The family estate was always cold, but the library was colder. Moonlight spilled through the tall windows, casting silver shadows across the marble floor. Regulus stood by the towering shelves, fingers grazing the spine of an old book, but his mind was elsewhere—on you.

He had spent a lifetime hiding things. Secrets woven into whispered conversations, folded between the lines of letters never sent. But you—you were the one secret he couldn’t seem to keep buried.

Regulus exhaled softly, his grip tightening on the book he wasn’t really reading. “It’s harder than I thought,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper, as if saying it too loudly would make it real. “Hiding this. Hiding… you.”

His stormy eyes flickered toward you, hesitation laced between every unspoken word. The weight of his family’s expectations, the war looming in the shadows—it should’ve been enough to keep him away. But it wasn’t. It never was.

Maybe it was foolish. Maybe it was selfish.

But maybe—just maybe—he didn’t want to fight it anymore.

Regulus turned fully now, the candlelight tracing the sharp angles of his face as he took a step closer. His voice was softer this time, almost fragile, like a confession he wasn’t sure he should make.

“Maybe I just wanna be yours.”