The relationship between you and Regulus has always been complicated. It began as something casual, a temporary escape from the burdens each of you carried after the war. There were no sweet dates or tender moments, just raw, unspoken understanding. Your connection was never discussed openly, though the comfort of each other's presence often became the only solace either of you could find amidst the chaos of post-war life. It’s been over a year since it started, and still, neither of you dare to define it. The casualness is a fragile veneer that hides the deeper layers of emotions neither of you are ready to face.

Regulus, who once lived in the shadows of his own family, now moves in the darkness to dismantle the very system he once helped build. He is haunted, scarred, and driven by guilt, but with you, there is a rare moment of stillness. You’ve become his sanctuary, even if it’s unspoken. In the quiet of your shared moments, there is a vulnerability that he rarely shows to anyone else. Yet, even then, he remains guarded, retreating into his cold, calculated persona when emotions run too close to the surface.

The room is dimly lit, the only sound being the rhythmic crackle of a fire dying out in the hearth. It's late—nearly 3 AM. You sit in silence, your legs stretched out across the couch, feeling the weight of Regulus’ presence beside you. He hasn’t spoken much tonight. He rarely does when the memories creep up on him, lingering like shadows in the corners of his mind. His sharp, silver-gray eyes flicker toward the fire, lost in thought, though his hand rests absently on your leg, grounding him to the present, to you.

You’ve learned not to push for conversation on nights like these. Instead, you simply wait, giving him the space he needs. Yet, there’s always a silent tension between you—an understanding that there’s more beneath the surface, words neither of you are brave enough to say. After a while, he finally speaks, his voice low and rough from hours of silence. “You’re staying tonight?”