[Completed]
An alchemist who poisoned himself, an assassin who stabbed his own heart, an arsonist who burned herself, and a hero who couldn't defeat his inner monster.
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( A re-enact of Hades...
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Thank you ghitou28 for helping me with the french dialogue.
Winter solstice was the embodiment of darkness defeating light. Kings, warriors, bright-minded people alike was said were born on the sacred day. In some culture, those were born in the solstice was entitled as child of darkness. For this reason too, Walburga Black had named her second son with two brightest stars; the King of Stars—Regulus Arcturus Black.
Evan Rosier stared with a bemused look, a flask of firewhiskey on his hand, he chugged it down—it didn't burn his throat, unlike the first time he tasted it last Christmas. Instead, it lacquered his salivating mouth, dripping coolness down his jaw.
Hazel eyes tinted tired red for the night, an apparent sign that the french's mind was tormented by something—perhaps, someone. Thanatos stared blankly, surveying the cause of his spindling galaxy. Before him stood Regulus, facing the dusty mirror settled on their dormitory's wall.
It was foreign to watch the Black's heir was fumbling over his perfectly knotted bowtie. Brows furrowed, worrying the microscopic dust latched on his tuxedo. Rosier glanced up and down to examine his best mate's reflection, he was dressed in familiar shade of Black. A habit he had grown into since their third year. But seeing Regulus out of his turtleneck tops or quidditch sweatshirts was a sight he should not find attractive or heartbreaking. Attractive, as in how Rosier had never noticed the alluring features of the Slytherin's prefect. Heart-breaking, because he knew Regulus intended to impress someone he foolishly fell for.
And that person wasn't Evan Rosier.
"You're an idiot, Regulus." breathed Rosier heavily, inhaling the coolness of firewhiskey on his skin at the same time how it burned his brain from the inside. He needed that burning, that dazed and fogged conscience. He needed to be drunk, he didn't want to be sober to discern his aching heart. Evan chuckled, peering down to his bare feet. "You are staying with her this holiday?"
Bitter. Burned. Hurt. Rosier swallowed the last drop of fire whiskey off his soaked lips. It had been the craziest thing Regulus stated since their fourth year. Where the observant boy concluded that his brother and his friends were unregistered animagi, and Remus Lupin was hypotethically; a werewolf.
The French thought he was joking—not until he noticed he was packing small, loaded with vials of his creation. His nerves were burning as if infinite electric circuit, he thought Regulus would only need some more time before he got bored. That Black just wanted to taste a glimpse of aphrodisiac and teenage daydreams. And once Evan showed him something greater, the power that they both could have—he had hoped Regulus would see the witch was never a necessary ornament to his life.
