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Josephine concludes the last sentence of her essay with a sigh before glancing at the time.
Almost time for patrol.
The night before, after the panic attack, she passed out in her dorm. Dorcas attempted to wake her for classes, but Josie insisted on taking a break, despite the guilt it brings.
At least she is still managing her schoolwork.
Embarrassment lingers after the previous night.
Having a panic attack in front of Regulus—well, he had one in front of her too. Yet, for her, others' emotions are not seen as weaknesses, while her own emotions feel like a different story.
A conflicting thought process.
Josephine stands from her bed, gathering her schoolwork into a pile before settling near the windows of her dorm. The window feels cold against her hand, a sensation that strangely eases her. She wonders about her friends and the prospect of going to see them, yet an inclination to isolate herself pulls her back.
Checking the time, she realizes it is time to prepare for patrol. Josephine adjusts her hair and changes into different clothes.
Walking out of her dorm, she narrowly avoids bumping into someone. "Sorry," she mutters. The girl's expression remains blank as Josie walks past; she just stares.
The girl has tan skin and dark brown hair, a few shades darker than her skin. Their eyes lock as Josephine proceeds.
Odd.
When she reaches the top of the stairs and turns back, the girl is still there. Josephine shakes it off as weird.
The common room is bustling with people, likely due to the start of curfew. She takes a deep breath before leaving. Too many people.
Brushing her hair from her face, she begins the walk to the great hall doors. Her nails are noticeably damaged. Well, she does have certain tendencies during panic attacks. At least it is only picking at her nails.
She reflects on the time she ran away—a low point, much like realizing what happened to her parents. None of those events, however, pushed her to the deepest low point.
She hopes she will never revisit that level.
Her emotions often surface as anger, a cover-up for her real feelings. Lately it feels as though anger comes forth more so then before. Anger aligns more with her idea of perfection.
Not the time for self-realizations.
Approaching the great hall doors, she spots Regulus, who seems early.
"Hello," she greets, her voice softer than intended. Regulus turns towards her, his dark clothes blending with the shadows.
"Josephine," he responds. Offering him a small smile, they begin to walk.
An odd energy hangs between them, likely because they both have things to say but hesitate to voice them.
"I'm sorry," Regulus suddenly stops and turns towards her. "For snapping at you the other day. I'm sorry."
She picks at her nails. "It's okay, just... what made you snap? So I don't do it again."
He sighs. "It wasn't you. I..." His voice trails off, as if struggling to articulate whatever troubles him.
Josie mulls over the events of that day. If Regulus did the same to her—continuously asking if she is fine or whatever—she guesses she would snap too. It would make her feel weak.
Perhaps it is the same for him? She assumes that in his house, emotions are considered weak.
"I get it," she interrupts him. "It's okay, I understand."
Regulus appears relieved, and they resume walking.
She really doesn't want to delve into the topic of her panic attack or anything related. At least Regulus seems to grasp that. Maybe that's why they get along so well. They are similar yet different.
"What's your favorite flower?" Regulus suddenly asks.
"I have way too many," she replies with a laugh.
"Name them then."
"Hmm, sea lavender, bell flowers, and... oh yeah, baby's breath!"
"I've never seen bell flowers," he turns to look at her.
"Well, they look like their name—little bells. It's so cute; Alora has some in her garden."
She notices Regulus smiling to himself slightly.
"Anyway, what's your favorite flower?" she asks.
He tilts his head in thought. "I'm not sure I have one."
"Come on, you have to have one. It's like the same with a favorite color."
Regulus laughs. "Okay, maybe... roses, I guess."
It sounds more like a question than a statement.
"Roses are classic," she nods. "You give off classic energy."
"Classic energy?" He raises a brow.
She smiles, nodding again. "Yeah, classic energy."
He shakes his head with a laugh.
Josephine smiles again, more to herself this time. At least they are okay now.
