ᴏᴍɴɪꜱᴄɪᴇɴᴛ ✵ʀᴇɢᴜʟᴜꜱ ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ✵

𝐗𝐗𝐕𝐈𝐈𝐈

☾ ʀᴇɢᴜʟᴜꜱ ☽

»»-------≪ °❈° ≫-------««

The very first time Regulus tells someone he loves them, she runs away, and that is a burn worse than the whiskey corroding his throat. It's a strange thing — heartbreak, that is — a desolate expanse of seemingly endless grey. What hurts most is the complicity of it all, he knows she feels the same way, and how tragically cruel it is that such isn't enough.

Storm clouds of cologne shroud their dorm room, so thick that it's difficult to draw breath. Amycus, the culprit, douses himself in the horrid, musky civet scent. In front of the long mirror, Barty's lips are tightened into a narrow line as he struggles to loop his tie around his neck. Evan is already concerningly drunk, swaying back and forth with a bottle of firewhiskey precariously held in his hand. Regulus takes another sip, then stares down at his drink, tipping the glass slowly and watching the amber hues eddy around.

"Sharing is caring, you know," Amycus barks at Evan, pointing to the bottle.

"Fuck Sharon," Evan says, borderline slurring his words, "I don't care how caring she is."

Regulus internally groans and rubs his temples, no doubt the blond will be a liability tonight.

"Evan," Barty huffs in annoyance, hands dropping to his sides from a dishevelled collar. "Can you help —"

His words aren't interrupted, per se, but they do fall because Evan instantly and pettily turns his back on him, and starts to pour firewhiskey into a silver flask. Barty garbles out a noise of frustration and curls his fingers into claws in Evan's direction like he's strangling something. This sort of tension between them is unlike any before and has become the new intolerable norm.

Amycus barely keeps it together while Regulus empties his glass in one deep swallow before he stands from the bed and crooks his finger in a 'come here' motion. Barty does so, and Regulus fixes his tie into the Full Windsor knot with ease; practically a muscle memory from when Orion forced him and Sirius to perfect it during early childhood.

When Regulus finishes, he patronisingly pats his friend's cheek. "You're welcome."

"Thanks, mate," Barty beams and puffs his chest out once he returns to the mirror.

Amycus now stands at the door, tapping his foot impatiently. "Can we go now?"

"Yes," Regulus replies wearily. "Let's get this night over with."

"Not so fast, lads," Barty chirps. His eyes flash with mischief as he breaks out into a wicked grin, and retrieved from his pocket is a vial of iridescent, pastel-coloured liquid. "I have a gift."

At once, all previous dread for this ball transforms into excitement as Regulus gapes at the Elixir of Euphoria. It seems to stare back at him, and he imagines the shimmery contents whispering to him with a depraved smile, "come play." Barty uses the dropper to deposit two drops of the potion onto his tongue, then passes the vial to Regulus. He doesn't hesitate to drop a measured amount into his mouth and the sweet warmness slides down his throat.

The beginning effects are nearly instantaneous as he hands it off to Amycus. He feels the world ebbing with his breath and a fundamental calmness blossoming within him. Pandora used to always talk about "channelling energy" and this sort of vitality that courses throughout his veins is what he can only assume she meant.

Still, his mind is not yet conquered, so Regulus doesn't lack the prudent logic to know Evan is far too intoxicated to handle any drugs. "No," he commands, swiftly snatching the potion from the blond's fingers. "You're already pissed."