the soft murmur of lady trowbridge’s ball carried through the sprawling garden, laughter and music diffusing into the crisp night air.

you had retreated here—the cool air seemed to offer a reprieve from the heat of the overcrowded ballroom.

your peace was awfully short-lived.

“you shouldn’t be out here alone,” regulus black’s voice broke the stillness, distinctly behind you. it was perpetually reproachful, as though he supposed he had any right to be reprimanding you.

you turned to find him standing there, his form half-shrouded in the obscurity of the garden. his black dress robes were meticulous as always, unlike his expression, which happened to be anything but composed. a blatant tension resided in the line of his jaw, paired with the subtlest flicker of something indiscernible in his brilliant eyes.

“i have came to say goodbye.” the words fell flat, clipped. it gave the impression that he was wrangling them out before they could knot themselves in his throat. unyielding, regulus took a step closer, his polished mien wilting rapidly.

“i supposed it would be better this way,” he persisted, albeit with a tone far more subdued, as though he were speaking to himself rather than you. “cleaner. simpler.”

his gloved hands flexed at his sides. this was not easy for him, regardless of his conduct—mind, that certainly was not without its flaws.

“but, of course, nothing about you is ever simple,” he added, the faintest trace of a private smile touching his lips.

his gaze met yours then, and whatever mask he’d intended to wear tonight crumbled. there was something raw in his expression, a grief he struggled to admit. “this is for the best,” he said, though the words lacked conviction. “i cannot—” he faltered momentarily, throat sliding as he swallowed his reluctance. his gaze flinched away from yours as if he could not quite bear to hold it. “you know why i cannot stay.”

but even as he said it, his feet didn’t move. he couldn’t bring himself to leave just yet.

he did not want to leave; not really.