Once upon a Midnight Dreary - Regulus Black

Chapter 22: epilogue

ℑ'm lying among the softest, most comfortable cushions, the blinding sunlight shining through the slatted blinds. The shadows of the bedroom are slowly being chased away by the rising sun, humidity lingering in the air. It's going to be yet another warm day, the kind that leaves people panting like a dog and urges them to scramble for cover in their cooled houses around lunch. Only the lucky ones can escape the heat; Regulus and I are apparently not lucky, because this old rickety building has no air conditioner. It's always too warm during summers and shiveringly cold during winters, but it's located a few minutes from the city center and the beach, and the cracked brick walls are covered with grapevine and ivy, so it doesn't look that lousy from the outside.

The bed is so comfortable I don't want to leave it, especially as gentle lips start planting the most tender pecks on my forehead, eyelids, temples, nose, cheeks, jaw and chin. I can't help but heave a contented sigh; the butterflies in my stomach are still ever so lively and quick to start fluttering their wings.

The kisses suddenly stop, and the usual sullen remark arrives without fail, "Are you ever going to wake up, or are you planning on spending the whole day in bed?"

I force myself to blink my eyes open and squint up at Regulus. He is poising himself above me, his black locks spilling across his perpetually frowning forehead. He's wearing the expression of one who's deeply discontented with the world, always ready to nitpick and grouse about the things he finds annoying.

"Good morning to you, too," I say easily. I then ask, because there is no clock in the main bedroom, "What time is it?"

"Ten minutes to seven."

"You made it seem like it was already three in the afternoon."

We have this conversation every day, but neither of us ever get tired of it. Life with Regulus includes routine-like bickering, almost as if I were living with a forever-grumbling centenarian. At the same time, life with Regulus also includes peppermint tea in bed when I come down with the flu, late night cuddles because he always stays up waiting for me to get home from work, plenty of burnt meals, bundling beneath heavy comforters on snowy winter days, and poetry recitations in the original French after I spend long minutes cajoling and persuading him.

Life with Regulus includes holding hands no matter where we go, the most alluring blushes — because I'm still the only one that can get him flustered enough to flush scarlet —, long walks down the beach, lazy afternoons with me resting my head in his lap as he caresses my splitting headache away.

Life with Regulus is the simplest and most serene life with no big adventures or great surprises, but that's what makes it so excellent in the first place.

"Since when are you up?" I lock my arms around his waist and he lowers himself onto me straddling my stomach, but I can barely feel his weight because his frame is so lithe and featherlight.

"Four. I couldn't sleep. Had a nightmare again."

"You should have woken me. I would have comforted you." I sit up with him in my lap and hug him close. His arms tighten around my shoulders immediately, returning my embrace without a nanosecond of hesitation. Yet, his voice remains surly when he speaks.

"How? Even now you're barely conscious."

"Just to let you know, working a fifteen-hour shift is not a walk in the park. I have to recover from the physical strain."

He raises a cynical eyebrow at me. "Which was when? Last month?"

"I can still feel the aftereffects of it."