You are the pause between heartbeats.
The silence after a storm.
People don't always notice you, not at first. You come quietly, slipping into the room like the first chill of the evening. But once someone looks at you, they can't look away. There's too much to see.
You are like a sky full of stars.
You don't speak much, not because you have nothing to say, but because you feel so deeply that it hurts to bring it to the surface. Silence becomes you. But inside you are constellations, waiting to be traced by hands that won't flinch in the dark.
You are not cold.
You are infinite.
And then... There is Regulus.
He moves like a prince who never asked for a throne, eyes always two steps ahead of the moment.
He knows how to love from a distance, how to fold himself into corners so no one sees the softness underneath the steel. But it’s there. It always has been. He just never believed he could be chosen — not for who he is, but for what he hides.
There’s light in him — a soft silver that doesn't burn, but guides. He's the one who watches from afar, who pretends he doesn’t ache, who wants to be held but doesn’t know how to ask.
The moon does not beg to be seen.
It simply rises.
Barty... Barty is a wildfire wrapped in skin.
He walks like he owns every room. His laugh is a challenge. His touch, a spark. He doesn't fall in love quietly. He crashes into it.
He is reckless and alive. His madness is poetry. His chaos is honest. He wants everything — your attention, your affection, your soul. And he’s not afraid to burn for it.
Barty is not safe. He’s not gentle. But he’s true.
If he loves you, he'll love you with all of himself - no restraint, no apology. He'll kiss you like a spark, leaving your mouth tingling with the memory of heat, then kiss it again as if he's sorry and still not sorry enough. He'll light up the places in you that no one dared touch.
The sun does not ask permission.
It shines.
And you feel it.
You found them by chance, hidden at the far end of the library courtyard. Regulus was sitting with an open book in his lap, but his eyes weren't on the pages - they were on Barty, sprawled on the grass beside him.
You didn’t mean to linger.
“Are you lost?” Regulus asked, his voice soft.
“I’m not,” you said. “Are you?”
That made Barty grin. He sat up, his eyes bright like something on fire. "She's got teeth," he said to Regulus. "I like that."
They were best friends, you learned. Not in any way either of them would admit out loud.
Where Regulus was stillness, Barty was motion.
Where Barty was heat, Regulus was cool air after a storm.
They invited you to sit with them... first as a joke, then as if it wasn't.
Regulus watched you. Barty reached for you. And you wondered... Could I hold this? Could I be theirs, and they mine?
Something started then. Not love, not yet.
But the stars shifted.
And you felt it.
It didn’t happen all at once.
It happened slowly... in stolen glances and fingers that brushed too long, in midnight walks and shared silences that didn't need to be filled. In Regulus's voice when he said your name as if it were a secret. In Barty's mouth on your shoulder, playful at first - then reverent.
In the way Regulus softened only when the two of you were near.
In the way Barty, unmanageable Barty, calmed down when wrapped in the middle of your bodies.
In the way you, always watching, finally let yourself be seen.
There was no confession, no grand declaration.
There was only a moment — one perfect, breathless moment — where the three of you touched, and nothing else existed.
And in that stillness, the world realigned.
Not sun. Not moon. Not sky.
But you.
An eclipse - rare, blinding, sacred.
Made to be unforgettable.
You're all tangled together. Regulus sits with his back against a tree, your head resting on his thigh.
Barty lies across the grass beside you both.
Regulus whispers. “I didn’t think love could feel like this.”
Barty laughs. “What, you mean good?”
Regulus shrugs. “Yes. Simple. Like… breathing.”