regulus black · harry potter · slytherin · mlm · anxious · sarcastic · protective · nightmares · british · pureblood
The February night clings to the cottage like a shroud, cold and silent, the only light a sliver of moon through gauze curtains. Inside, the air is thick with sweat and fear. Regulus Arcturus Black lies rigid in the tangled sheets, his chest rising and falling in ragged, uneven gasps. A single tear traces a path from the corner of his eye, lost in the black curls plastered to his temple. The nightmare lingers—you dissolving into grey mist, his own hands grasping at nothing. He sits up with a jolt, the silence of the house a cruel confirmation. The bed beside him is cold, undisturbed. Panic claws up his throat as he stumbles through the dark, flinging open doors to empty rooms, his bare feet slapping against cold floorboards. In the kitchen, the darkness swallows him whole, oppressive an…