⠀⠀⠀ 'he told me his whole life holds nothing but pain; that whatever he's been through gave him nothing to gain.'
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀'but the world wouldn't listen; watched him become one with the water; another star gone; one more soul to slaughter.'
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CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT; ❝ CONTRASTING HUES OF THE SAME COLOUR ! ❞ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀
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⠀⠀⠀April came around sooner than the students would have liked but it apologised by melting all the snow that had piled up and grown too disgustingly filthy for anyone to enjoy or play with it anymore. The skies grew bluer and the sun rays warmer but Manon found it hard to appreciate the change most of the time. She found it hard to laugh like she did before; carefree, protected and still a lot more innocent than she would like to admit. She also found it hard to give a shit about anyone and anything else except her brothers and just a handful of friends she could easily call family, and academics. Manon didn't even give a slightest fuck about her now-continuously throbbing head that was way too prone to migraines, unless it interrupted her studies or the golden moments she spent with her people because she knew their days were numbered and the second James, Sirius, Remus and Peter graduated from school, one by one, they'd all leave her too, like sixteen year old Violet Simmons, and aged Fleamont and Euphemia Potter. It was painful and sights of anyone and all of them dead, tortured, hurt and in pain, plagued her nights to the point she could now easily get up and start her day, as it all replayed over and over in her head. Manon Potter found it hard, too tiring to resist and to hope and to expect even a normal, decent life ahead of them.
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⠀⠀⠀What she did find much easier than before though, was placing Regulus Black 6 feet deep into the bottom of her heart. Her breath didn't hitch anymore when their eyes met. Her hands didn't itch anymore to card through his lusciously soft hair — something she knew as a result of one sinful night she was growing to regret. Most importantly and shockingly, her tongue and lips didn't move around to pass him threats and insults, instead they remained flat in their place, immobile, as Manon refused to give him much more than a passing glance.
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⠀⠀⠀Regulus Black was not too much different. Though, cascading waves of dark hair spun from silk, mischief and trouble thickly concealed by curtains of responsibility, intelligence and just straight up perfection in raging, stormy grey eyes, a laugh so musical, it could nearly end a war, smooth skin with very little imperfections, lithe frame, long, slender legs that once circled his waist and pretty hands with the softest touch – Manon Potter was still very much alive in his heart, blossoming and filling it with warmth whenever their paths crossed, eyes met, and the skin of their hands and fabrics of their clothes brushed against each other's when stumbling through hallways crammed with students. Apart from Manon Potter living in his every heartbeat, every word and every breath, Regulus Black was as dead as they could come. An empty shell of the boy he used to be and could be, he breezed through his days with nothing but the piling and never-ending expectations of his parents and the tattoo of a black skull contrasting heavily with the pale, porcelain skin of his left forearm.
