CANNONBALL ⇒ jegulus

SEVENTEEN

Regulus wakes up to the sound of the shower in the bathroom nearby and James quietly humming. It's a soft sound and Regulus sighs blissfully as he sits up. He let's a hand fall to his belly.

"Mornin', sprog," He greets.

Regulus finds it ridiculous to be speaking to his unborn child, essentially just speaking to his belly, but he can't help but find himself rubbing small circles to the surface of his bump. "C'mon, let's go get you fed, mmh? Uncle Sirius has probably nicked all the French toast,"

Regulus slowly dangles his legs over the side of the bed. He stands, approaching the large pile of laundry of his and James' shared clothes that they had so effortlessly managed to compile together into one humongous mountain of sweaters and football jerseys.

Regulus pulls on a pair of his washed out denim jeans. They're faded and most indefinitely past their prime, but Regulus can't bear to part with the beloved trousers.

Regulus had worn them the night he'd run to Andromeda's, so full of fear and anxiety with his head overflowing with thoughts of exactly how many ways his mother and father were going to kill him once they'd found out their youngest son had followed in their eldest child's footsteps.

It had been a year and maybe a few months after Sirius had left.

Regulus saw his brother at school and at school only after Sirius had taken off into the night and was never seen at the Black household again. They often brushed past one another with a curt nod and sometimes even a small smile.

Andromeda had been his safe space, her and her cheery husband and their amusing toddler he was often left to babysit. Regulus owes his cousin's hospitality to why he and the small pink haired little girl are thick as thieves.

Regulus sighs softly as he tugs the jeans on. He opts to throw on a sweater before buckling up the jeans only to find, to his and his raging body dysmorphia's horror, it doesn't fit.

Regulus let's out a small, slightly gutted gasp, his mouth hanging open as he looks down to see a small sliver of his pale belly sticking out from beneath the black sweater, the small curve of his abdomen on show.

And here I though black was supposed to be slimming, Regulus thinks grimly.

He decides he will deal with his sweater issue once he has his pants pm properly. Regulus attempts to tug up the zipper, he even tries to force the button to cooperate with him but a las, he finds himself un-benefitted and confused.

Fuck, fuck, fucking fuck.

Regulus appears to have piled on baby weight over night. He urged the zipper and the button to close, they mock him and remain open. Regulus sighs deeply. Neither his pants or his sweaters will fit him anymore.

He regrets his offer to even feed his baby and then immediately feels guilty over that tiny shred of regret he had found himself feeling. Mother's were supposed to want to feed their babies, but Regulus can't find it in himself to want to add even more potential weight to his already expanding physique.

If his mother were here to see this, she would probably scream at him for being so careless with his weight gain.

Just as Regulus is about to frustratedly sob at his articles of clothing, James reenters the room; messy dark hair damp and a towel around his waist. His incredibly toned and lean waist, his waist that holds no extra belly fat, no stupid baby bump beginnings and absolutely wouldn't prevent him from dressing himself decently.