ᴏᴍɴɪꜱᴄɪᴇɴᴛ ✵ʀᴇɢᴜʟᴜꜱ ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ✵

𝐈𝐈

☾ ʀᴇɢᴜʟᴜꜱ ☽

»»-------≪ °❈° ≫-------««

Regulus Black is quite familiar with this feeling. Dreadful mornings, despite his customary to them, are his enemy. As soon as his eyes open, the burden on his chest is there, so heavy that his lungs constrict and it's difficult to breathe. The noise that escapes his mouth borders between a whine and a groan, unable to shake the way his brain feels like it will swell beyond the capacity of his skull, and the layer of dehydrated saliva that coats his cracked lips. Consequences of another night raiding Grimmauld Place's liquor collection.

A body nestles up against him, one arm drapes lightly over his, and he feels breasts brush against his back. He can hear her breathing, soft and steady, peaceful like, and it makes him envious. His eyes peek over, curiously, to bare porcelain skin that's nearly illuminescent in the sunlight that pours through the tall glass windows. Molly.

Or was it Holly?

There are very few memories that vaguely cross through his aching head, most of which consist of the girl shoving her tongue down his throat or sucking on his neck. Well, besides the blurry flashes of Evan profusely vomiting in the sink, but Regulus hopes that was just a part of a strange dream, and the pipes underneath are not clogged with bodily fluids. Regardless, he might not have caught the girl's name at all, they were quite busy.

Regulus swings his legs out of the sheets tangled about them, and sits on the edge of his bed as his fingers immediately grip the mattress. Waves of nausea add to his misery when he feels the room sway. The thought of a hearty breakfast, cigarettes and coffee, is enough to practically make his dry mouth salivate. The brunette beside him stirs and lets out a light moan as she stretches out her arms.

She glances up at him with a soft smile. "Good morning."

As a response, Regulus merely grunts his acknowledgement of her. Instead his eyes search the floor for his clothes that were no doubt thrown upon last night, and soon he reaches over to carelessly throw on his wrinkled green collared shirt, leaving it unbuttoned and only popping the collar. He flashes her a guilty smile in his top and underpants.

"Listen, Holly —"

"— It's Ada."

"Same difference, just —" Regulus stops abruptly. He tilts his head. "Ada? Are you sure?"

Any sign of softness that appeared on her face before diminishes into complete and utter irritation. "I know my own name, you tosser."

"Right, er, sorry," Regulus says in a tone that sounds anything but. Distractedly, he searches through the pockets of his trousers and growls under his breath when his fingers don't reach a pack of cigarettes. Grumpily shoving his legs into said trousers, he faces Ada with a smile that is so clearly forced. "You were lovely last night... from what I can remember. But —"

"— But I should fuck off now?" Ada suggests, pulling a lavender tank top over her head.

The ghost of his guilty smile still remains with a shrug of his shoulders. "Well, I most certainly planned to say it in a much more polite way."

She rolls her eyes, and mutters a word that might have once wounded Regulus if he still had the emotional competence to care, but he is empty, and those bittersweet feelings have been pushed far in the depths of his subconscious, unable to be reached by anyone.

Once she's fully dressed, earthy brown eyes meet his stormy grey ones. No words leave her pursed lips, but he can still hear what she wishes to say through her mind. 'I guess that mark on his forearm should've warned me of his impertinence.'