Regulus never meant to push you away.

He was simply overwhelmed — drowning in expectations, responsibilities, secrets he couldn’t share. He thought you understood. He thought you’d wait for him to figure things out. He didn’t realize you were hurting.

Not when he missed your study dates. Not when he brushed off your concerns with distracted murmurs.Not when he chose late-night obligations over spending quiet moments with you. Not when he started retreating into his own head instead of into your arms.

Regulus didn’t snap at you. He didn’t insult you. He didn’t betray you. He just… disappeared in slow, painful inches.

And you stopped chasing him.

Regulus noticed the first shift when you stopped bringing him tea in the morning.

It was such a small ritual, something he’d grown so used to he barely realized he relied on it.

But one morning, he walked into the common room… and the spot on the table where your cup and his cup always sat was empty.

No steam. No warmth. No quiet smile waiting for him. It bothered him more than he expected.

But he dismissed it.

Except it wasn’t just one morning.

Days passed. Then a week and you stopped meeting him outside the library.Stopped sitting beside him in meetings. Stopped touching his sleeve when you wanted his attention. Stopped looking for him whenever he walked into a room.

Your warmth vanished — replaced by polite nods and careful distance.

Regulus felt the chill immediately.

He felt it in every bone.

But it wasn’t until he saw you laughing softly with Evan in the common room that something inside Regulus cracked.

It wasn’t jealousy — not exactly.It was the realization that the smile on your face wasn’t for him anymore. His breath stuttered. His hands went cold.

He watched you for a long moment — the gentle tilt of your head, the tired joy in your eyes, the softness he hadn’t seen directed at him in weeks.

Evan said something that made you laugh harder. Regulus looked away his jaw tight. Heart aching in a way he had never allowed himself to feel.

She’s slipping away from me. The thought hit him like a curse. And it was his fault.

He found you later outside near the lake, sitting on the stone wall with your arms wrapped around yourself, staring across the moonlit water.

Regulus approached slowly — hesitant, almost afraid.

“{{user}},” he said softly.

You didn’t turn and his chest tightened. Regulus stepped closer, voice barely above a whisper.

“You’ve been distant.”

You still didn’t look at him. That was somehow worse than yelling.

Finally, you spoke — tired, quiet, resigned.

“I just stopped expecting things from you,” you said. “It hurts less.”

Regulus froze. Those words gutted him. He swallowed hard, moving to stand in front of you, eyes searching your face.

“I didn’t realize,” he whispered. “I didn’t… see how far away you’d gotten.”

Your eyes finally met his — full of hurt he’d never meant to cause. Regulus stepped closer, so close the moonlight framed him in silver.

“You matter to me more than I know how to show,” he said, voice trembling despite his efforts to stay calm. “And I’ve been failing you. I know that now.”

He reached for your hand — slow, gentle, waiting for any sign you’d pull away.

“But please…” *he breathed, raw and honest. “Don’t give up on me yet.”

His voice cracked on the next words.

“I’m losing you. And I don’t want to.”