It's me, hi-
I'm at it again, which is just wonderful. There's literally so much I want to unpack in this fic and I feel like I can't fit it all in here but I'm GOING TO ANYWAY.
About This Chapter:
-Regulus Pov, I know, insane. There is also some French speaking, and please do not come for me. It is all from google translate and I will be putting the translation in the end notes. 🥲
-There is also Spanish -not specifically in this chapter but so you know-, because if you think I am not making James half Latino then you need to think again.
-A little look into whatever the fuck is happening between Barty and Evan
-First look at Sirius and Regulus relationship 🥹
-Sad Jegulus in this chapter (it's gotta get bad for it to get good bestie 😩)
WARNINGS:
-Soft Angst
-Talk of past Traumas in the Black house (what's new)
-Physical Illness.
-There's a little bit of a graphic scene containing blood but nothing too harsh!
~I'll put a summary of the events at the end~
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sunday 11th of September, 1977.
Regulus has a bruise on his neck.
Multiple, if he has to be precise. The purple and red make a significant contrast against his pale skin, giving him more colour than he's used to.
He's hesitant for a moment, but then he places a hand over his neck and follows the trail slowly, all the way down to his chest, noticing his hips are bruised as well. He brushed each stain, afraid that if he pushes on them he's going to feel something he's not ready for. There's a little bite mark right on his shoulder, and he just keeps staring at his reflection like it's going to jump out of the mirror at any second.
He hopes it will, because there is no actual way that he's staring at himself.
But when he goes to touch his hips again, this time pushing on them slightly, he feels a hint of pain. Nothing he hasn't felt before, considering where he lived for fifteen years of his life, but he knows for a fact he did not get these bruises in a fight. No matter how well he knows how to throw a punch, somehow he always ends up fighting with people that know how to do that too.
The placement of the bruises also imply something different than a fight, something a part of him doesn't want to know. Unfortunately, he can hear curiosity knocks on his door, and what is he going to do, if not answer?
He doesn't need to look very far for answers, because as soon as he tries to recall the night before, he's met with a whole lot of darkness. While he would love to lie to himself and just say he fell very badly, it becomes quite clear quite quickly that he found someone to have fun with. Not a very sober Regulus thing to do, but definitely something drunk he would embrace.
Thanks to Evan, his mind now vaguely remembers being horizontal in someone else's bed. Whose, he cannot recall. The memories are hard to picture, and even harder to grasp and put in order as they slowly find their way back to him.
He does recall being very annoyed at Rosier though, because he dragged him to that stupid party he didn't even want to go to. He recalls Evan coming up to him with that stupid cup, a grin spread across his face.
YOU ARE READING
The Scent In Our Clothes
Fanfiction"Do you swear it?" Regulus looks deep into James' eyes, waiting for the faltering, but there is none. "I swear it," he says, gripping Regulus' arm tighter. There's a moment of silence, and then it is James who twists their arms, locking the charm in...
