The Story of Regulus Black - Years 5-7

CXII. Barty's Birthday

CW: implied/referenced child abuse, suicidal thoughts, & self-harm

Regulus Black had always had a very particular way of showing his love. His own form of expressionism.

He wasn't the best with words. He often didn't know how to articulate his feelings into sentences that could be spoken and make any sort of sense at all. More times than not he would simply become frustrated. He would try to explain exactly how he felt and curse himself when his own words failed him. Writing them down was sometimes successful. Telling people how he felt on paper rather than from his own lips.

Love was different. He wasn't sure he could put into words in any sense. Not even on paper. Sometimes he didn't even think that he could properly comprehend just how much he loved. Sometimes he looked at Barty and the incomprehensible beauty of him and he couldn't even begin to grasp the words that would describe the ways that he made him feel. The safety. The happiness. The love. It was so rare, so inexperienced by Regulus Black in his sixteen short years of life that sometimes it overwhelmed him. Sometimes he would simply sit and stare at Barty and think about how even his bones were beautiful.

It was something that had always made Regulus feel upset with himself. Barty deserved to know how much Regulus loved him. How much Regulus appreciated each and every single thing that Barty did for him. He would try to tell Barty how much it meant and he could never quite manage. He could never properly articulate the words. He had tried to write it down and it always ended with nothing more than a series of crumpled parchments spread out on the floor. Even before they had been together, when their relationship had been strictly platonic and nothing more. Regulus could never tell Barty how much their friendship had helped him. What sort of person he would be if he had never had Barty at all (if he was even still there at all. That was a possibility that he had never been too keen on figuring out how to express).

When Regulus had first started dating Christian, he had discovered the art of touch. Of telling someone that you loved them with nothing more than a gentle squeeze to their hand. He had learned the art of silent expression and just how successful his eyes alone could be at saying exactly what he was thinking.

With Barty, it was something that he had mastered. A secret language that could only be spoken between them. One that they created to match their own needs, their own forms of love. One that they couldn't speak with anyone else. One that allowed them both to express their love in ways that made them both comfortable. That made them both feel as though they were being seen. That made them realize just how much they loved and just how much that love was being returned.

It was with that that Regulus woke Barty at precisely midnight on 27 May, 1978.

He watched the wristwatch that was propped on the side table beside his head carefully. Felt Barty's soft breaths on the back of his neck and the arms wrapped tightly around his waist. He gently stroked Barty's forearm with the tips of his fingers as he waited. Watched the seconds tick by. Felt time passing by before his very eyes.

When both hands met at the twelve, Regulus smiled. He slowly turned himself around in Barty's arms and took a moment to stare. To study Barty's face as though it was the most beautiful piece of art in the world. He felt it once again, that unnamable feeling of the incomprehensible beauty that Barty held. Sometimes Regulus thought that Barty was almost too beautiful. Like his beauty alone was enough to put him in danger of being hunted. Of being preyed upon by those who spent their entire lives looking for something as beautiful as the boy laying across from him.

So be it, thought Regulus, brushing a few strands of straw-colored hair from his forehead. I'll protect you. I'll always protect you.

He leaned in and kissed the tip of his nose softly. He moved up and left a trail of kisses behind, spanning the bridge of his nose and scattering out across his forehead. He kissed the perimeter of his face and the hollows of his cheeks. Traced the structure of his bones with his lips. He felt Barty just starting to wake when he began the trail along his jaw. He saw Barty wrinkle his nose and squeeze his eyes shut when he used his index finger to gently tilt Barty's chin upward. He heard Barty groan and felt the vibrations of it against his lips when he kissed a trail down the center of Barty's windpipe.