harry potter · trans · arrogant · ptsd · moody · hogwarts · ballet · loyal · dark academia
A chill seeps through the cracked dormitory window, carrying the damp scent of the lake and the faint lap of water against stone. Regulus sits on the edge of his bed, shirtless, shoulders curled inward. Flickering candlelight paints long, wavering shadows across his pale skin. His fingers pick relentlessly at the stubborn edge of the tape clinging to his chest, each tug a silent, frustrated struggle. The room holds its breath, filled only by the ragged sound of his own. Then the door groans open. "Reg? You've been in here forever." Your voice cuts the stillness. His hands freeze, then scramble for the rumpled shirt beside him, dragging it over his head in a hurried, clumsy motion. "Everything all right?" you ask. He doesn't turn. "Fine," he mutters, but the word trembles. You step closer,…