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Regulus Black sunk onto the cushioned kneeler he had dragged noisily to stand before the stained-glass window depicting St. Valentine. 

It’s not a statue, but he figured it would do. 

The cathedral had long since closed for the night, and the echo of Regulus scraping the heavy wood along the stone floor still vibrated in the dark hollow halls leading to the roped off rooms. If he let the air still around him and closed his eyes, he could hear the nuns tidying up for the night. He always found the shuffling of their orthopedic loafers comforting.

He steadied his breath and looked up, St. Valentine looking forward and into the empty pews with his suffering but indifferent gaze, Regulus falling completely out of his line of sight. He pulled the rosary out from under his shirt and pulled it over his head, wrapping it around his hand and running his thumb over the beads. 

With one last pleading look at his only confidant in the vacuous emptiness, he closed his eyes and clasped his hands. 

“Please, please, please—” His voice trembled. “I take such good care of you guys; I make sure your glass is shiny, the floors clean, I put the bibles back after every service, I make sure you always have at least one candle lit. I spend all my time here, taking care of this place and talking to you guys and I never once have asked for anything. I show up on time, and I don’t even care when my paycheck comes late.” 

He slipped the rosary beads between his thumb and forefinger methodically like he’d seen the bona fide worshippers do. 

“I’m a good person.” Regulus winced, squeezing his eyes shut so hard white began to swirl behind the lids. “At least, I think I’m a good person.” 

He peeked one look up at the stained-glass saint. St. Valentine had not miraculously shined down upon him. 

“I’m only asking for one thing,” 

Regulus closed his eyes once more and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly and rolling his shoulders back confidently. 

“I want to fall in love.” 

⸙

The old city of St. Augustine was not his first choice of place to move for college but like most things in his life, Sirius had trailblazed ahead of him, and it was easier to follow than to make his own path elsewhere. 

The Black siblings were a no-brainer to the Flagler College admissions board, taking into account their generous contributions to the Crisp-Ellert Art Museum to help put white-out over some of the blemishes on Sirius’ record. Regulus had gotten in partly on his own merit, his fifteen-page essay on the religious idols of the 18th-century would leave anybody in a state akin to coming off the Gravitron ride at the county fair after a generous helping of fried-anything. 

Sirius had left home a year before him, leaving Regulus to fend for himself out in the stately country homes of West Virgina where his father would take him on trips to visit their coal mines in hopes the dust and drilling would inspire him to leave all that art history fluff behind and one day take over the business. 

Orion Black stopped taking Sirius on these trips long ago. This is due to an incident his father and older brother only refer to as “That Day”. Regulus and his mother never fully put together what happened, mostly because the two never spoke about it again, but they did manage to get the gist of it when Sirius spent the following weeks memorizing all of Abigail William’s lines from Arthur Miller’s The Crucible. 

One of Orion’s project managers was mysteriously fired the next day and Walburga Black found herself shooing a distressed woman off their porch after that. 

Nobody talks about “That Day”, but Regulus and his mother did agree that Sirius played a harrowing Abigail Williams.

Sirius refuses to talk about it even today as they sit hundreds of miles away from home in the living room of his student housing, he kept steering the conversation back to all the professors whose classes he should avoid signing up for and all the places that offered student discounts. Regulus gave up his efforts and started taking mental notes. 

“My job is hiring if you want to ditch the covenant.” His brother said distractedly as he ran his tongue along the seam of a joint. 

“I like my job.” He said sternly, but all weight was taken from his assertion. It was hard to be serious when you’re sinking so far into a beanbag your ass is touching the floor. “Why would I want to tell ghost stories while dressed like a pirate for minimum wage?” 

“I’ll have you know; we get to keep our cash tips!” James Potter, Sirius’ roommate, sat up-right suddenly like he had been a part of the conversation all along and hadn’t been snoring on the couch moments ago. Regulus sneered at his accusatory finger. 

“They let you dress up like a wench if you ask.” Sirius added. 

“Oh, goody.” He rolled his eyes. 

“Much cooler than sweeping a church,” James groaned, rolling onto his side to face the back of the couch and digging a hand into the back of his shorts to scratch an uncomfortable spot. 

“It’s a cathedral, not a church. Go back to sleep, would you?” Regulus hissed, then screwed his eyebrows up at Sirius, gesturing at James as if to say Do something. 

“Just saying, the basilica is a good summer job, but when school starts you’re going to want something where you can do nights.” Sirius shrugged, putting the end of his admittedly perfect joint in his mouth, it bounced as he spoke. “Plus, the job comes with free booze.” His brother cupped his hands around his face and lit the joint with a lighter he seemingly materialized out of thin air.  

“My job has free booze too.” He scoffed. 

“The blood of Christ doesn’t count.” He heard James say through the muffle of the couch pillows, he then swung his arm out for Sirius to place the joint between his fingers. 

Just as Regulus found himself worrying about James setting a couch cushion on fire, he was jumping at the sound of someone struggling to get the front door open before slamming it shut. 

“I should really tighten the hinges on this shit.” A disembodied voice came from the front hallway. 

“Nah, you just gotta’ jiggle the door up a little.” Sirius shouted in the general direction of the voice. Then suddenly the grumbling and heavy footfalls were assigned a corporeal form as another man joined the living room from the dark of the foyer, he dropped his keys into the coffee table bowl and kicked his boots off with such absent practice that he was a blur for the first ten seconds of his arrival. He moved about the apartment tossing his bookbag off and shucking off his hoodie, until finally he stood between the living room and kitchen and noticed Regulus. 

“This is my little brother, Regulus; he starts classes this semester. Regulus, this is Remus; fine arts major, aannd our weed dealer.”  Sirius waved his hand around between them, but Regulus’ hearing had gone muffled like he was in laying in a soapy bathtub. 

He and Remus had kept their eyes locked since before Sirius had spoken, looking at each other not only like they were—strangers, yes—but like they were another species entirely. Regulus had never seen somebody so uniquely attractive, even in the shimmering multicolored lights of the living room he was glowing bronze like an ancient statue. His arms bore silent muscle, a scar cut across his Roman nose. He stood in a fucking dirty white tank-top, so obviously the kind of shirt that comes out of a pack of five and it was horribly stained with red clay. 

A sculptor? A pottery artist? Did he not know he should wear an apron? 

“How are you?” Suddenly his spell broke. Remus had come closer, extending a hand for Regulus to shake. Remus had to bend down to reach him with how deep and crumpled he was in the beanbag. Regulus immediately felt small and inadequate in his sweatpants and one of Sirius’ old theatre camp shirts. 

“I’m here.” Regulus quipped with an involuntary roll of his eyes. He shook Remus’ hand politely, trying not to make a face at how it felt like Remus was shaking his whole arm out of its socket. Almost instantly, he parted his lips to speak again, realizing that he hadn’t asked Remus how he was in turn, but Remus beat him to it while sporting a lopsided grin. One of his eyes closed more than the other handsomely when he grinned like that. 

“I know the feeling.” He hugged and let go of Regulus’ hand, which floated between them momentarily before he dropped it. Remus ran a hand through his hair, grabbing a curl that looked nearly straight from being fussed with all day. “I’m going to, uhm” He swallowed roughly, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he worked his throat, “Fix the door.” 

And he was gone, deeper into the apartment where some shuffling and movement could be heard in what Regulus presumed was his room.

“Who was that?” Regulus hissed at his brother, who lazily rolled his eyes over to him. 

“Remus, I said this already.” Sirius shrugged, ash falling onto his shirt and making him jump. 

“How long has he lived with you?” How many times has he been hiding somewhere out of plain sight from Regulus. 

“I dunno’ like the whole time?” Sirius drawled like he was stupid.

“What are you? The cops?” James grumbled. 

“Seriously, please don’t bust our weed dealer. He actually pays rent on time.” Sirius added with a grimace.  

Regulus sat back in his seat when Remus appeared once again, this time holding a cordless power drill. Who the fuck owns a cordless power drill that they keep in their room? He listened as James and Sirius went back and forth reminiscing on the short-lived roommate they had before

Remus, and how the last guy left his dirty socks by the front door. Regulus barely heard a word of it, listening to the sound of the drill working on tightening bolts, pressing them flush to the metal of the hinge until the drill-bit couldn’t go any deeper and the sound seemed to rattle his brain. 

The sisters once told him; God will reveal things to you when the time is right. 

Now was really not the time, God.

Not when he looked like he rolled out of bed to come over to his brother’s house and raid his fridge in search of microwaveable dumplings. Which is exactly what he set out to do today, not meet the secret third roommate who maybe does pottery and owns power tools and probably doesn’t know how hot he is in the eye of somebody who spends all day surrounded by portraits of holy men. 

He had to leave the scene immediately, and against his better judgment, he did. He blames it on some kind of fight or flight tunnel vision.

Regulus ungracefully fought his way out of the beanbags clutches and stood, pressing a kiss to the top of Sirius’ drowsy head and kicking James in a semblance of a goodbye. 

He thought he’d made a clean escape until he rounded the corner and saw Remus checking his work, swinging the door on its now silent hinges. 

He was as tall as the godforsaken doorframe. 

“Heading out?” He said, stepping aside and holding the door open. Remus watched as Regulus threw his house slippers on and grabbed what he now realizes is his insanely loud lanyard. The keychains jostled in his grip. 

“Yeah, classes tomorrow.” He tried to smile, side-stepping Remus’ space politely. 

“I heard.” Of course, Remus was literally in the room when Sirius said this. 

“Right.” Regulus finally made it out the door but was still stuck in Remus’ orbit.

“You sure you wanna’ walk home by yourself?” 

“Yeah, it’s fine. I live in the dorms, not too far.” He gestured in some direction vaguely while walking backwards slowly like Remus was some kind of predator ready to pounce.

“Right.” 

“Right.” 

Remus was looking down at him. Regulus was looking up at him. 

“See you around, then!” Regulus turned on his heel and made for the street, mouthing every curse word he knew under his breath when he was sure Remus couldn’t see his face.

“See you around.” He heard Remus call out. 

He kept walking and didn’t look back, he couldn’t look back, because if he did it would make his embarrassment all too real. 

Regulus kept walking until he reached the street between his campus and the cathedral he so dearly fell in love with over the summer. He scanned the outer wall until his eyes landed on that larger-than-life stained-glass window of St. Valentine. 

Regulus crossed the empty night time street and walked right up to it, stomping his feet and cocking his hip, looking the saint right in his flat uncaring eyes. He crossed his arms and sighed disappointedly.

“If you weren’t a canonized saint, I’d have a few choice words for you!” Regulus barked at the glass like a madman in the dead of night.

St. Valentine obviously remained unmoved by this outburst.

⸙

His first week of classes consisted of a lot of sitting in uncomfortable chairs while professors read their syllabus’s to the class line-for-line in a monotone voice that suggested they had been stuck doing this with their first-years in some purgatory type loop. 

It goes without being said that stepping back into the cathedral felt like stepping back into a warm bed at the end of the week. 

The nun who manages the giftshop had been kind enough to let him work full days on the weekends and come in whenever he had time during the week, which worked for Regulus on so many levels. 

He could study behind the counter during those slow weekdays where tourists weren’t flooding the place and touching everything, and he could stand in the back during those weekend masses and enjoy the few hours he had all to himself cleaning up before and after. 

It had been going perfect that first week of adjusting to his new schedule. It was Sunday, and he’d managed to stay awake during Spanish mass and just had to get through the English. 

The ancient pipes had decided to bless them by actually working today, so he found himself lost, enjoying the added touch of music to the service.

Until disaster struck.

Mass came to a grinding halt when the furthest back pew toppled backwards, the bolts ripping out of the very stone floor and sending a sitting duck row of three families onto their backs. 

Their faces all fell at Regulus’ feet, their legs poking out into the air as they seemed to remain seated, nestled in the pew horizontally. 

Regulus looked down at them in horror, the families looked up at him in shock. 

After apologizing profusely and ushering them to new—safer—seats, Regulus and a few kind fathers rolled the toppled pew back onto its legs and continued on with the service. 

No harm done claimed the families, their hearts softened by the Sunday goodwill. 

As everyone cleared out, Regulus came to a realization. 

The maintenance crew didn’t work Sundays. 

He knelt down to assess the damage, hoping he could will the bolts to stay by screwing them back in with his fingers, but he found the bolts were simply rusted and rotting entirely. They were rudimentary and now too skinny to fit the eroded holes they sat in. 

He pocketed them as a relic, it’s not everyday you come across 18th-century hardware.

The pew wobbled loosely when he sat  to test it, and he knew immediately he couldn’t leave it like this in case an afternoon tourist decided to take a load off, out of the hot sun, on this particular fated pew. 

He could call a repair shop. 

But, It’d have to come out of his own pocket. 

He could call Sirius! 

But, Sirius was only good for leading male roles that carry an air of mischief, and the occasional cross dressing in the Shakespearean tradition.

Scratch that.

He could call Sirius, and have him call Remus!

No. 

Regulus—although admitting to himself deep down that he did want to talk to Remus again—did not want to talk to Remus. 

What had followed that first interaction was as close to praying as you can get without actually praying, he was choosing to call it manifesting.

When he walked through the art department, he scanned the sea of heads for one towering a voice them. Only to avoid Remus, of course. 

Last night, at Sirius’ place he asked where Remus was—helping a friend set up a show, in case you were wondering—if only to make sure he didn’t have to suffer the near stuttering spells Remus induces in him.

Even earlier this week, when he stalked Sirius’ tagged posts to find Remus’ instagram account, he did it only to make sure Remus wasn’t already following him, thus opening an avenue for possible communication even via text. 

Regulus did not want to talk to Remus. 

Not only did he not know if Remus was gay, although he was picking up some serious vibes, Remus was incredibly out of his league, made him nervous and off-balance, and most importantly made art.

Regulus couldn’t make art. That’s why he resided himself to studying it like rest of the metaphorical artistic eunuchs sent away into the basement archives of galleries all around the world.

He could not stand the idea of being in Remus’ presence one-on-one, yet it was everything he yearned for. He spent the week in droning classrooms daydreaming about what Remus would like, what kind of art he makes, what his portfolio must have looked like when he applied to this school.

Did he have one of those big nerdy portfolios wider and longer than his torso? Did he throw a piece in there from highschool that everyone advised him against but he wouldn’t be convinced on abandoning based off of its sentimental value alone? 

Regulus Black did not want to talk to Remus Lupin. The very idea churned nausea in his stomach that felt suspiciously like a wave of butterflies. Their wings were still wet and newborn from their cocoons, and it made him sick. Why they chose to hatch now, inspired by this mystery boy, was keeping Regulus up at night. His butterflies couldn’t even fly yet, just scale his insides with their creepy little legs and drag their unfurling wings behind them.

But alas, he only knew one person who would show up with his power tools and help him free of charge on this blessed Sunday morning. 

“It’s 10 in the fucking morning, Reg.” Sirius sounded like he’d be hit gently by a sixteen-wheeler. “Yes, and yet I’ve been up for hours like normal people do. I need your help with something.” Regulus leant on the creaky unstable pew.

“What?” The sound of sheets rustling on the other end. 

“Can you send me Remus’ number, I uhm need his help with something.” He cleared his throat.

“Are you trying to buy drugs?”

“No! I’m not trying to buy drugs!” He whisper yelled, scared the very walls would hear him.

“Okay, then why do you need Remus’ number?” 

“Something broke here at work and I think he’ll know how to fix it. Now, stop gatekeeping and help me out.” Regulus hissed, beginning to pace. 

“Mm’fine, I’ll send it now.” Sirius said groggily. After a moment of silence on the other line, Regulus’ phone vibrated against his ear. 

“Thank you, you can go back to sleep now, you creatin.” 

“Bye, love you.” He could hear Sirius nestling back into his sheets on the other line. 

“Love you too, thanks.” Regulus said reflexively.

When the tone signaled Sirius had hung up, he immediately went to his messages, and there it was. 

A shared contact from Sirius.

Remus Photographer Another piece of the puzzle. 

Photography. 

Regulus wouldn’t have pegged him for that. It seemed important enough that Sirius logged him on his phone with that descriptor. Come to think of it, how many Remus’ did Sirius know that he even needed something to distinguish just what Remus this contact belonged to. 

Aside from the point. 

He tapped on the call button before he could second guess it. 

Regulus hoped Remus wasn’t the kind of person to decline calls from unknown numbers. He also hoped he wouldn’t be rudely waking him up, asking for help like he owed him something. “Hello?” 

Of bat, Remus sounded awake and alert. A bit confused if anything, but from the sounds on the other line Regulus could tell he was out somewhere. 

“Hi! It’s Regulus, Sirius’ brother?” 

Why did he say like like it was a question, he is Regulus, Sirius’ brother.

“Oh, what’s up?” 

It sounded like he was at a coffee shop, somewhere bustling, where people shout ‘Order for Ally?’ in the background.

“I’m sorry to call you out of the random-”

“No! It’s okay.” Remus interrupted him, then the sound of something shifting close to the mic, like maybe he was pressing his cheek to the sound of Regulus’ voice using his shoulder. 

“Oh, okay sweet.” He smiled to himself and nodded, not realizing Remus couldn’t see him. “I was wondering if you were busy?” 

“Nah, I’m at City Perks editing some stuff. Stealing their wifi.” He laughed to himself on the other line, Regulus imagined the handsome grin again.

“Oh! You’re close to my job then?” 

“Yeah, why?”

“One of the pews over here basically ripped out of the ground and I can’t get someone over to fix it before we open to the public for the rest of the day. I was wondering if you could come by and maybe just bolt it back down until we can get somebody in?” He bit his lip, not realizing he was wandering the back of the cathedral with his phone to his ear. 

To anybody else he probably looked like a teen girl twirling the cord of her house phone while she talked to the boy on the other side.

“You’re lucky I have my tools with me.”

“You carry that stuff around?” 

“Yeah I always carry twenty pounds of tools, everywhere I go.”

Every man had his quirks, Regulus guessed. He shot a hesitant look at the portrait of Saint Joseph kneeling next to the Mother Mary. He wondered if Mary put up with Joseph lugging around all his tools too. 

“Sounds heavy…” 

“I’m sorry, that was a joke. I was helping my friend install her exhibition. I don’t…carry them all the time.”

“Well, it was meant to be.” Regulus sent a wink Mother Mary’s way. 

“Sure was, I’ll be there in a bit.” The sounds of a chair being pushed out and items being collected. 

“Oh! Come in through the giftshop, the main door is locked.”

“I’ve got you.” 

I got you. What an odd thing to say to someone you hardly know, He’s got me. What did it say about Remus’ character if that’s how he talked to people in need of his help. 

Was Regulus swooning? Maybe he was swooning, he really needs to get that under control.

“Alright,” Regulus hung up before anything else could come out of his mouth and slammed his hands to his sides, shoving his phone back into his pocket. 

He made sure he was alone, scanning his surroundings and looking out into the pews before running to the empty giftshop and noisily spinning the rotating rack of prayer cards. 

Regulus picked the one he was looking for out of its cubby and held it in front of his face like it was made of gold. 

Saint Rose of Lima stared off into the distance with her flower crown and gentle features, a knowing Mona Lisa smile gracing her lips. Regulus huffed out a laugh and held her image to his chest. 

“Give me even a teaspoon of your grace, and I promise I’ll water the flowers outside everyday personally.” But just as Regulus was going to tuck the prayer card into his pocket he gripped it back onto his chest and closed his eyes. “And I know I’m not supposed to ask for this, but please make me look hot, even if it’s just in his eyes. Okay, thank you.” 

He kissed the card for good luck and swore he’d pay for it later instead of putting it back on the rack. After making sure it was secure in his back pocket he snuck off to the employee bathroom and pet his hair down in the mirror. 

His unbranded and plain black shirt and pants didn’t speak anything of him, but it didn’t not do him any favors. 

He had made peace with Remus only ever seeing him in his uniform and pajamas thus far, so he ducked back out and got behind the giftshop counter. 

The walk from City Perks Coffee to the cathedral wasn’t long, and if Remus had left as soon as he hung up he’d probably be halfway here. 

His legs being that long and all.

Regulus quickly repented to the ceiling. 

He busied his hands and mind with unpacking some new merchandise; silver and gold little coins depicting different saints. Regulus ran the pad of his thumb over one of them, finding it a bit soothing. 

Just as he sorted the last coin into the foam insert of the table-top display tray, the bell over the door rung, then subsequently got slammed into again. 

“Motherfu-” Remus rubbed his forehead with a wince taking a few blind steps into the shop.

“Hey! Remus,” Regulus quickly cut him off stressing his name, rounding the clerks desk and shutting the door behind Remus. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that, but be thankful the sisters weren’t around.” 

“My bad,” He groaned, his occupied hand holding a small but heavy looking duffel. “I’ve been living here for almost a year now, I should be used to ducking.” 

Regulus found himself smiling insanely wide just having Remus in his presence again, standing out of place at his job. He tampered it before Remus could see. 

“Must suck being so tall in a city built in the 1700s. You would’ve been a giant back then.” He poked.

“Yeah, tell me about it.” Remus found it in him to chuckle. The pain of being smacked in the face by the shop bell having subsided, he finally looked at Regulus head on. “Hi,” He breathed, followed by that old Hollywood grin Regulus had been haunted by all week. 

“Hey,” Regulus said back, that’s when he suddenly realized how close the two of them were standing in the threshold of the giftshop. He took a step back and started leading him towards the wobbly pew. “I hope I didn’t ruin any plans.” He called behind himself, leading Remus through the giftshop and into the cathedral itself. 

When Regulus reached the back pew and rested a hand on it—like he was soothing an injured friend, assuring the pew that help was on the way—he glanced back at Remus. 

Remus’ eyes lingered on all the stained glass and oil pastel icons, all the tortured and reverent, damned and innocent. When he reached the line between modern hardwood and ancient stone that separated the gift shop and the cathedral, Remus crossed himself upon entering, kissing his fingers silently after the Holy Spirit. 

It tugged at Regulus’ heart, and he finally understood what writers meant by their hearts skipping a beat. He fixed his face as Remus neared, not commenting on the gesture. 

“You see, it’s…” Regulus gave the pew a shake, demonstrating that the bolts of the bench had come out of the floor entirely. 

He stepped aside as Remus got inbetween the rows, crouching to see the eroded and worn out holes in the wood and the stone. 

Regulus watched, as respectfully as one could inside of a place of worship, as his shirt rode up in the back. He caught a glimpse of the loops of Remus’ dark jeans and the brown leather belt threaded through them. The band of his boxers were a red plaid. 

When he sat back on the heels of his boots, the  back of his shirt revealed itself to be a cheesy graphic design. 

  I Escaped Jail!

Old Jail 

St. Augustine, Florida 

“I’m going to need masonry anchors, I’m sure your maintenance guys would have some laying around.” He said, getting back up with a groan like some old man would. 

“I can let you check in the supply room?” Regulus offered, pointing behind himself with his thumb. 

“That’d be great, save myself a trip to the hardware store.” He dusted his hands off and walked closer to Regulus, his lips parted as if in thought. “With all the stuff hanging around here I’m almost positive you’ll have some.” He repeated, muttering to himself as his eyes robed the place.

“Yeah, cool.” He nearly squeaked. Looking up at Remus from this angle it looked like the ornate roof and ambient lighting gave him a halo. 

Remus wet his lips when he caught Regulus momentarily staring, his eyebrows twitching. 

“I guess I’ll…” Remus’ hand shot up for that fussed with curl, Regulus immediately catagorized it as a nervous habit. “I’ll follow you?” 

“Yeah, this way.” Regulus busied his hands with getting his noisy lanyard of keys out, and sorting through the endless rings for the supply room keys. He led him past Mary and Joseph and fumbled with the roped off door of the supply closet. 

“Duck,” he reminded Remus when he got it open, smiling to himself when it earned a chuckle. Remus indeed needed to duck. 

They stood in the cramped room, Regulus watching Remus dig around the maintenance crew’s shelves. The only sound being their breathing and the plinking of screws and anchors that Remus deemed fit for the job falling into his hand. 

“That should do it.” Remus mumbled to himself, gesturing for Regulus to lead the way again. 

“Awesome, you can go ahead. I gotta’ lock up.” 

“Sorry, I just feel like this is your domain.” Remus let out a chuckle.

“I trust you, you don’t need an escort.” He smiled politely, locking the door they came through while Remus watched, holding his noisy little handful of screws out in front of his chest. 

There was a overgrown-boyish charm about him. His treasured bits in the cup of his hand, the nervous smile, the messy curl and his tourist attraction T-shirt. Maybe it was the way he followed Regulus around the cathedral like he was scared to be left alone in it. 

Regulus pondered all this as he sat on an adjacent pew and rested his chin in his hand, watching Remus and his drill dissapear under the seat of the pew and reappearing to grab the next anchor and screw after noisily drilling the bench more and more securely to the ground as he went. 

Finally, Remus was standing up and dropping his tools into the bag. He beckoned Regulus over to check his work, the two of them standing way too close to be holy, even if they were doing nothing wrong. 

Regulus shook the pew, and it didn’t give not one inch, good as new. 

“I’m pretty sure it’s good karma to help repair a place of worship.” Regulus teased.

“Ah, no. I do it for the love of fixing benches on my day off.” Remus joked back as he zipped his bag up. 

“I owe you one. I don’t think we’ll even need to get it professionally fixed.” Regulus gave it another rougher shake. Nothing.

“You did just get it professionally fixed.” He smirked cheekily as he straightened back up, letting Regulus lead him out. “And I know how you can pay me back.” 

“Name your price,” Regulus stopped, turning back to him with a roll of his eyes but a smirk on his lips. 

He hoped Remus would ask him to buy him lunch or a second midday coffee, then Regulus could pretend it was a date. At least the people around them would think it was, and then it’d be true in their imaginations.

That was more than enough for him right now.

He watched as Remus dipped his finger tips into the big marble bowl of holy water that stood at the back of the cathedral. 

His biceps strained the hem of his shirt sleeves as he reached up and pressed his blessed wet fingers to his forehead, then absentmindedly flicked the excess onto his tool bag, blessing them too in turn.

“Let me take you on a date.” 

Regulus’ mouth went dry. The bowl of holy water sat there, it’s surface disturbed. 

“You’re…” Regulus didn’t know why, but he didn’t want to say it here.

“Bisexual, really. But, yeah.” Remus said it with his shoulders squared. 

Regulus waited for the very roof to cave in for some reason. When it didn’t, he felt himself nodding timidly.

“Sure,” He let a gentle smile creep onto his face. 

“Awesome, I’ll text you then?” Remus breathed out through a chuckle, like he was holding his breath. His hands went right back to that curl, with the same hand that was still slightly damp with holy water.

Regulus unlocked the main door for him, it being time for public tours anyways. They stepped out into the sun and the bustle of the streets, the midday tourists ready for the next thing to do after brunch and drinks.

“You have my number.” He looked up at him, squinting his eyes in the light, Remus nearly blocking it out for him. 

“Tonight?” Remus started walking backwards, toward the sidewalk, but he didn’t take his eyes off of Regulus.

“Tonight’s fine.” Regulus forced down a manic grin. 

“Drinks after? Or during dinner?” Remus started to shout now the further he got. 

Regulus let an unbecoming giggle bubble in his chest, “Both!”  “Okay!” Remus threw his arms out.

“Thank you, again!” Now they were shouting at each other from across the way.

“No problem!” 

Regulus watched as he started down the sidewalk. At that, he turned back toward the main entrance.

Then suddenly, “Regulus!” Remus was quickly retracing his steps and back into Regulus’ line of sight. 

Regulus whipped around, his hand almost on the door of the cathedral, “Yeah?!”

He watched Remus catch his breath, “Italian or Asian?!”

“Italian!” Regulus shouted back, letting himself laugh fully at this man’s absurdity. “Remus, just text me!”

“Yes! Perfect! I’ll see you later!” Remus pointed at him, and Regulus nodded, still genuinely laughing for the first time in a what he comes to realize is a while. He waved goodbye at Remus as he was sent back on his way and ducked into the cathedral, ignoring all the pedestrians who had watched the entire exchange, staring between he two of them. 

He bit down on his smile as he had to walk the whole way through the pews and saints back to the giftshop desk. 

As soon as he sat down on the stool, his phone buzzed. Remus had texted him already. 

Remus Photographer: You’re gorgeous when you laugh.

Regulus thanked God nobody was around to see him quietly bang his head into the counter top like an insane person.

He reached into his back pocket and pulled out the prayer card of St. Rose, she seemed even more beautiful and her cheeks even rosier. 

As soon as one of the sisters came around to let him take his break, Regulus went straight to the maintenance closet where he and Remus had shared air and stood too close. 

He grabbed the watering can and filled it up in the deep utility sink. 

Sister Kelly looked at him funny as he marched up to her and paid for St. Rose’s prayer card, not saying a word about the sloshing watering can in his other hand. 

“Are you feeling alright, Regulus?” She called after him before he could leave through the shop door and into the courtyard. 

“Never better, just felt like watering the flowers today.” He assured her, shooting her what he thought was a convincing smile and shrug.

“Well, that’s wonderful, dear.” She gave him one of those all-knowing glances over her wire rimmed bi-focals and smirked as she looked over Regulus’ receipt. 

The flowers did look thirsty, Regulus thought to himself outside. 

⸙

Remus Photographer: Which dorms do you live at? 

Regulus: ponce de leon hall

Remus Photographer: Can you be at the front gate by 8:00?

Regulus: i indeed can

Remus Photographer: I’ll be waiting for you.

The nerves didn’t set in until now.

Regulus had just been waiting for that text. He’d gotten to his dorm room and torn through his still half-unpacked boxes for exactly what he wanted to wear. He didn’t even need to play something in the background to distract himself from his own spiraling thoughts. His roommate spent the hour and some change waxing poetic about the upperclassmen in his theatre classes that wouldn’t even look his way. 

Honestly, he was glad he was rooming with somebody like Barty Crouch Jr. because he didn’t have to do a lot of talking. All Regulus had to do was nod his head and thoughtfully hum when appropriate. It was a good gig. They had met before at a mixer Sirius insisted he go to, and Regulus found him smoking away from the crowd and asked to bum a cigarette. Barty didn’t ask any questions, but he did make a lot of conversation. 

Within the first ten minutes of getting to know him, Regulus could tell you how he had run away from home with a drag troupe that put on Rocky Horror shows, how exactly Barty’s father received that news, and most interestingly, how Barty made the money to put himself through this school. In case anybody was wondering, it involved a lot of body glitter and a lot of strange custom videos.

On the bright side, Barty was neat and respectful of Regulus’ space, in that department he could not ask for more. His only flaw was the scathing fashion advice he offered freely between whining about his stage crush. 

“It’s like, I can’t tell if he thinks he’s better than everyone and that’s why he won’t look at me, or if he wants me so bad he can’t look at me…You know?” Barty said, sitting with his back to the bathroom door while Regulus showered. 

Regulus responded by sticking his head out of the shower curtain and yelling “Uh-huh!” before getting back under the spray. Shampoo was getting in his eyes. 

Then, shouting over the sound of his hair drier while he sat on the toilet lid, “And then, on Friday he shot me this look after we did some monologues, and I was like woah did I do so good that he finally noticed me!?” 

“Maybe!” 

While he was lying on his bed watching Regulus pick out his outfit, he kicked his feet in the air and propped his head up on his hand. “But, who knows. He’s totally out of my league anyways, and everyone in class said there’s a rumor about him only dating older guys. Oh! One girl said the only reason he gets so many lead roles is because he slept with the director last year.”

A sense of Deja-vu washed over Regulus then, and his nose twitched like he’d smelt something. 

Then, his phone dinged, and it was wiped from his memory. 

“Tuck your shirt in and wear a belt, class it up. You’re going on a date not the skatepark.” 

Regulus was too busy typing to show he’d heard him, and by the time he tossed his phone back onto the bed, Barty had rolled onto his side and was deep into a sped-up recipe video on his phone. He took his advice anyway, obediently tucking his shirt in and tugging on a canvas belt. His slightly baggy jeans were the same blueish grey as his eyes, and he’d rolled the sleeves of his tight graphic tee to add something to it other than the screen-printed photo from The Battle of Los Angeles. The murky image of a UFO with spotlights hitting it from all angles looked like a sunburst after so many washes. 

Just to waste time and avoid thinking he slowly and deliberately put on each piece of jewelry. Every ring was a ward; a wreath of skulls against death, a tiny crown of delicate poison ivy vines—a microdose for immunity, a silver-tongued snake helped pick through lies. Each earring was something he needed to hear more of; Sirius’ confidence came from the star, tranquil words came in waves out of the seashell, and a stud with an imbedded opal for happiness. Around his neck and tucked into his shirt he wore the rosary he bought on his first day at the basilica, its cool onyx beads and long chain centering him. He knew it wasn’t exactly correct to wear it like this, but he’d come to find it incredibly grounding. If nothing else, it protected him. 

After he rolled on some perfumed oil Sirius had given him, he checked his phone again, and

Regulus realized it was still fifteen minutes too early to be ready. He sat there for a while, rubbing his perfumed wrists behind his ears and along his pulse points like his mother said he should once a long time ago. He took a deep lungful of lilac and petrichor before deciding he had to keep moving before his brain caught up with him. Armed with nothing but his phone, wallet, and the promise that Barty would be awake to open the door when he returned, he wished his love-sick roommate goodbye and started walking down to the main entrance of the school. 

Other students were heading the same way as him dressed in their Sunday night happy hour bests, and others were ambling around in their pajamas and sneaking cafeteria food back to their dorms. You’d think with all the clothes Regulus had on he wouldn’t feel so naked. Nobody was looking at him in any kind of way, yet he felt flayed open. He’d worked himself to perfection, shiny and clean, anybody could take one glance at him and know he’d spent the last hour trying. It was incredibly vulnerable; it could even be embarrassing if Remus didn’t put the same level of care into his appearance.

He didn’t have to worry about it for too long. 

Regulus had worried that he’d be standing in front of campus for a while, just waiting, not knowing exactly what to do with his hands and not wanting Remus to walk up on him while he was buried in his phone. Instead, as he walked nearer to the gates, he saw Remus was already there. He stood, typing a message with one hand and the other messing with that curl. 

“Hi.” Regulus watched Remus startle slightly. 

“Oh shit, hey! I was just texting you that I got here early.” Remus fixed his posture, tucking his phone into one pocket and inadvertently opening himself up for Regulus’ perusal. 

He didn’t think we would like a man in army green trousers and a brown plaid flannel as much as he did. He was eye level with his shirt, so obviously, he had to read it. The design was clearly handmade and stamped on messily, but done so more than lovingly. 

“Crows Before Bros, Support Your Local Murder?” Regulus read out, shooting a smirk up at Remus. “Really?” 

Remus opened his flannel for Regulus, revealing a dumb-looking crow on the shirt pocket. “What? This girl, Marlene, at my job makes them! She said I could get one for free if I promote her work.” 

Regulus chose not to mention how mind-numbing the waft of Remus’ cologne he got was, woody and spiced. 

“Charming, I’m going on a date with a walking billboard.” He teased, finally finding it in himself to meet Remus’ eyes. Remus didn’t respond for a moment, just looked down at him with this shine in his eyes. Like maybe he couldn’t believe it. 

The streetlights came on around them, and for that momentary stalemate, they were probably the only two people in the old city. 

“Can I hug you?” He said all of a sudden, deep and hushed. 

Regulus’ heart leapt to his throat and he had to swallow once to shove it back into place, “Yeah,” 

He stepped forward and opened his arms, but Remus must have overshot how much he’d have to slouch down to accommodate Regulus, because he ended up with his arms around Remus’ neck, and God his eyes almost rolled back. 

He was pulled slightly onto his toes when their fronts pressed together, and he could feel everything; Remus’ face against his neck, hands around his waist, the warm skin of Remus’ throat against his inner arms, his rosary imprinting into his sternum. They held each other for a shared breath before Remus set Regulus back on his feet. 

If you asked Regulus, he was still strung up and skimming the ground.  “If I didn’t get that out of the way I would have thought about it all night.”  It tumbled out of Remus’ lips like a confession. 

“Me too,” Regulus agreed, feeling less nervous now that the ice was broken. Their surroundings then came back to him, and he tilted his head in either direction down the street. “So, where are we headed?” 

“Uh, this way,” Remus pointed towards the coast and stepped to the side to let Regulus take the inner sidewalk beside him. “Not too far of a walk.” 

“Nothing is ‘too far of a walk’ in St. Augustine.” 

⸙

The restaurant was named Saint; Regulus couldn’t make it up if he tried. They sat at an angle from each other in a way too intimate corner of the outdoor seating area, and their server seemed to keep forgetting they were there at all, which left a lot of time for nervous conversation over empty drink glasses. 

If Regulus looked to the left, he could look out into the water and spot the far away lighthouse on the other side of the city, it’s light made a slow haunting sweep over the city for a while after sunset until it shut off for the night. Everyone who lived in St. Augustine knew that meant that the lighthouse had opened up for its nightly ghost tours. While Regulus watched its beam power down in the distance, something in the foreground caught his attention. 

One of those tacky replica pirate ships floated down the water. They were so close they could hear the tour guide’s voice over the loudspeaker.

“Didn’t know Sirius was working today,” Regulus scoffed once before turning his gaze back on to Remus. Remus was already watching him, relaxed in his chair with an arm slung over the back of it, his expression a bit dopey as he looked at Regulus like he was a puzzle to solve. “Does Sirius know you asked me out on a date?” Regulus lifted his eyebrows at him. 

The man across from him sucked his teeth, “Not exactly,” he smirked. “But if this goes well, I guess we’ll have to tell him, huh?” 

“Getting a little ahead of yourself, aren’t you?” Regulus shot back, swirling melting ice cubes with his straw. 

“Yeah, I tend to do that.” He muttered in response before putting his elbows on the already tiny table and leaning forward. “So, what’s your favorite kind of art?”  “Is this your idea of flirting?” Regulus couldn’t help but chuckle in disbelief. 

“Maybe,” Remus pushed, tilting his head. 

“Will my answer affect how well this date goes?” Regulus leant in over the table just as far. 

“Maybe,” Remus’ lips twitched into a half-grin. 

“Is it cliché if I say religious icons?” He raised an eyebrow, watching Remus’ expression. 

“It would make the whole working at a church thing make sense, but no, I can’t say I’ve heard that answer before.” Remus shook his head and started messing with Regulus’ melting ice cubes too when he got bored of stabbing at them with his straw. “Explain though, why is that your favorite?” 

Regulus stopped short for a second there, his lips parted in a failed response. 

Nobody had really asked before. 

“I don’t know,” 

Remus’ shoulders shook, “You have to know.” he stated like it was obvious. 

He looked off into the restaurant for a moment, seeing if he could spot their server. He needed another drink. 

“I guess nobody has ever really asked me why I like them. I just kind of talked at people about them whenever I could, or I would sneak a paragraph or two about them into my papers in high school.” He admitted, still staring off into the dimly-lit restaurant. When he turned his face, Remus watched him, thoughtfully silent, letting Regulus fill the space. “My mom used to say I was a monk in a past life but she raised me with too good of taste to spend my life in a tunic.” He let out a nervous little laugh through his nose. 

“So, if you had to explain why you find them fascinating, what would you say?” Remus said softly, and the world around them fell away. 

No tourists rushing past them to get to their dinner reservations, no cars flying down the road, and fuck Remus was tracing a single finger around the knob of Regulus’ wrist bone while looking into his eyes and it felt like the dirtiest thing anybody had ever done to him. 

“They’re grotesque.” 

Remus’ face pulled into one of those handsome grins. “Really? Go on,” His throat worked devilishly around the words. 

“I’m not using that word how a lot of people would think; negatively, I mean. I’ve been around a few of them when I did this program in high school. We went into this museums archives, one of these fancy temperature controlled rooms, and I saw the living, rotting faces of these biblical figures and you could smell it. I feel like it’s one of the only forms of art that teems with life; oil pastels and watercolors dry and get sealed and that’s it. Sure, you’ll have to do some maintenance after a century or two, but it doesn’t feel or start to morph into other things, or sometimes even-” Regulus had to make a weird gesture with his hands and squeeze his eyes shut for a second before rubbing his temples and taking a deep breath. “Am I too much yet?” Regulus asked Remus, who he found enthralled when he opened his eyes. 

“Not at all, pretty boy. But hold that thought.” Remus raised two fingers in the air and finally flagged their server over. 

Regulus took the chance to sit up straight in his seat, righting his clothes and clearing his throat nervously. He watched with his mind racing as Remus ordered a few things, pointing at the menu and smiling politely at the server before handing it off, he made a sign with his hand to signal a second round of their drinks before turning his full attention back onto Regulus. 

In the split-second before Regulus was going to jump back into it, Remus nonchalantly reached down to grab the leg of Regulus’ chair and dragged him closer with a noisy scrape of its iron feet. Like he weighed nothing. For some reason, Regulus could feel the warmth radiating off Remus even if they weren’t touching, just their sides being this close was comforting. 

When Regulus turned to face Remus, he very comfortably draped a bent knee over his lap under the table, and Remus without a second thought wrapped a large hand around his calf. 

If Regulus were on a first date with anybody else, this would never have happened. Why Remus was different, he didn’t know. Regulus would’ve tucked himself under Remus’ arm and watched the ships pass by all night if he let him. That level of instant comfort scared him, but the thrill of leaning into it made him feel inexplicably good. 

“Okay, so sometimes these paintings do what?” It was like he was pressing the play button on Regulus.

“Right, so some icons have no exact maker, they just appeared.” 

“Wait, I’ve heard of this.” Remus interjected with a smile, squeezing his grip on Regulus once. He leaned past him to help the returned server place their drinks on the table. Even the way he said thanks and nodded his head was accidentally charming. “One of them is something like the Veil of-” 

“Veronica.” Regulus finished for him, earning him another squeeze, Regulus smiled around a sip of his fancy gin cocktail. Remus mirrored him behind his tumbler of bourbon and smashed berries. “And when you look at the actual relic they have of it, it’s this eerie amorphous blob really, but when you stare at it you start to see this dark imprint of Jesus’s face and its just scary but its miraculous, apparently! And there’s so many of these icons that people say aren’t made by human hands, which is crazy right? Art that’s somehow supernatural or divinely made? It’s terrifying, and I love it.” 

He hadn’t noticed how much he was gesturing with his hands until he let them fall into his lap. 

“Sorry,” He started immediately. 

“No, no. You’re fucking gorgeous when you talk like this.” Remus looked like it hurt. 

“God, talking about art is flirting for you.” Regulus rolled his eyes. 

“This is better than flirting, keep going.” 

“There’s this phenomenon, right?” Regulus lowered his voice, and Remus leant his head closer to his, like they were sharing a secret. “Where at random icons will start weeping. Now, modern art snobs will tell you; ‘Duh, when you slap wax and egg yolks onto rotting wood your painting is gonna’ start doing crazy shit’. But, the Vatican will literally send somebody to confirm if these icons are literally crying from their eyes, and there have been times when these things are shedding tears of myrrh. So, imagine, these religious figures, by being painted are somehow being brought to life. This art feels and it weeps for the world, and it’s just…” Regulus caught himself lost in Remus’ eyes as he trailed off, looking for the words. “I just can’t explain how beautiful that is to me.” 

Remus’ lips parted, “Can I ask you something?” 

Regulus felt his spine straighten a bit, “Yeah?” 

You’ve said too much. He thinks you’re insane.

“Are you Catholic yourself?” 

Regulus nearly choked on his drink. “No, I was raised in a capitalist household.” He laughed. 

Remus laughed at this too, sitting back in his seat but still rubbing his thumb over Regulus’ leg with a stretched arm. “Did Sirius get that joke from you or did you steal it from him?”  “That’s not a joke, that’s literally what our dad would tell us.” He assured. 

“No fucking way, so you’re not religious at all?” 

Regulus shook his head slightly, “I don’t even know what I’d be, really. I talk to the saints at work like they’re my friends, I sprinkle a little Wicca into my routines, but I don’t believe in ghosts weirdly enough.” 

Remus nearly jumped out of his seat. 

“You don’t believe in ghosts?” 

Regulus laughed at Remus, who had wide eyes and a grip on his leg. “No?” He said with a smile. Clearly, Remus felt strongly about this. 

“You just waxed poetic about paintings crying and appearing out of thin air. You talk to saints, which is basically talking to the spirits of who they once were. You live in St. Augustine, one of the most haunted cities in the world! How do you not believe in ghosts?” His date was in total disbelief, they argued enthusiastically with smiles on their face the whole time, only taking pause when their food was brought to the table. 

Through a mouthful of lobster arancini Regulus responded, “I don’t know! It’s different, the whole talking to them and asking for advice is like talking to their soul. Which I guess lives in pieces at my job because their statues or paintings are there. It’s a ritualistic faith based thing, there’s candles and shit! Aside from that, I don’t believe in the whole poltergeist-y, Paranormal Activity kind of ghosts.” 

Remus filled Regulus’ plate with a bit of everything while he spoke. “Trust me, you don’t want to see those, they’re the worst kinds.” He muttered. 

“You seem knowledgeable about this.” Regulus noted, batting his eyelashes for a man who generously shared his ‘100-layer lasagna’. 

“I have to deal with them every day and night at my job. I’m actually surprised you haven’t had your first St. Augustine ghost experience yet, you’re way past-due.” 

“Did you ever tell me where you work?” 

“No, but I do the tours at the Old Jail…” He admitted, stealing a taste of Regulus’ main course. He reached over and stabbed a few gnocchi onto his fork like this wasn’t the first meal he and Regulus had ever shared. Regulus didn’t care so much that he thought to himself he would have rather fed it to Remus off his own fork. “Before school started back up, I exclusively did the nighttime tours.” 

“No shit, you wear the whole inmate costume and everything? With the stripes?” Regulus smirked. 

“It’s not a costume, pretty boy. That’s my uniform.” Remus shot back, equally amused. 

“I like when you call me that.” 

“I bet you do,” 

Regulus made sure Remus was watching when he licked a bit off sauce off of the corner of his lips. Remus, was indeed locked onto the whole display. 

“So, you’re saying if I do your tour, I’ll see a ghost?” 

“There’s a damn good chance.” 

“Can I request you as my tour guide? I want to see you do your whole shpiel. I bet the scar adds to the whole thing.” Regulus gestured to his own nose in reference to his. 

“Baby, this scar is why they hired me.” Remus played along. 

“I bet it is.” Regulus smiled. “What’s the scariest thing that’s happened to you?” 

“On the job or just while I’ve been living in St. Augustine?” 

“Both,” Regulus sat back and got to cleaning his plate, it was delicious, and Remus was about to be his dinner time entertainment. 

Remus looked deep in thought for a moment, looking at Regulus suspiciously like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to tell a particular story. Then, he wiped at his mouth with a napkin and tossed it into his lap. 

“So, Sirius and James will never tell you this themselves, but our apartment is haunted.” He said very seriously. 

“I never got that vibe.” Regulus screwed up his eyebrows. 

“You’ve never spent the night.” Remus smiled sardonically. “We don’t like to talk about it in the house because we think it kind of gives it power. We call it ‘Interdimensional Bigfoot’ to try to take away some of its power over us. Kind of make fun of it, in a way.” He put the name in air quotes. 

“What does…Interdimensional Bigfoot do?” Regulus asked. 

“The first time I saw him, he was standing in the far end of the hallway when I walked out of my room, and all I saw was the kitchen light on behind it and a shadow so tall its head almost touched the roof. But, it had no features and no light reflected off of it, it almost absorbed light. It was opaque and blank, but my brain recognized it as alive but not quite human. But, it was trying to be.” 

Regulus felt goosebumps rise along his arms. “That’s fucking horrible, no thanks…” He doesn’t even know what he would even do in that situation. 

“Oh, that’s not it. Sometimes we’ll hear the doors open and close while were all in the living room, or we’ll hear somebody sit down on the ends of our beds. And one time while I was home alone, I heard ‘Sirius’ calling me out into the living room. Except Sirius was at work with James that night. I checked his location, he was literally in the ocean at the time.”  Regulus stopped chewing at this point, his fork paused halfway to his mouth. 

“The guys have their own stories. So, I know I’m not crazy.” Remus finished, going back to his dinner. 

“What about the ghosts at work?” Regulus went on. 

Remus scoffed, “Oh, they love me. I take care of them, and I talk to them a lot, so they don’t mess with me, I guess. A lot of people who’ve worked at the Old Jail have told me that the ghosts of the inmates take care of the people who wear the same uniform as them. And, if you ask them nicely, they’ll really put on a good show and earn you a shitload of tips.” 

Regulus laughed then, smiling incredulously at Remus. He thought this guy would think he’s crazy for having ancient saints as friends, yet, here he was telling Regulus about how he works hand-in-hand with ghosts to give groups of tourists a scare to write back home about.

He sat listening intently as Remus went through a catalog of encounters; some hilarious, and some downright nightmare-inducing. By the time they’d finished they were sharing a limoncello cheesecake and polishing off their drinks, Regulus was totally fascinated. 

“I want a ghost story of my own now.” Regulus pouted after the bill came back.

He had tried to pay for his half, but Remus had just pretended to take his debit card and pocketed it before handing the server his patent leather booklet back, revealing only after that it was on him. 

“I’ll show you all the best spots then. How does a little walk sound?” Remus said without looking up from writing the tip and signing the bill. 

“Sounds nice.” Regulus fixed his pout. “I don’t want to go home yet for some reason,”  “Funny, neither do I.” Remus smiled down at him as he got up. 

He offered Regulus his hand, and Regulus took it without a doubt in his mind. 

It felt like it was where his hand was always meant to be. Like his hand had never truly rested comfortably until now.

Right as they walked out onto the sidewalk Regulus tugged on Remus’ arm. “I never asked if you were religious. Are you?” 

Remus’ chest shook with a genuine laugh. “I’m a bisexual, fine arts major who grew up

Irish-Italian.” 

Regulus looked up at him with a roll of his eyes, “Meaning?” he stressed. 

“Baby, I’m Catholic in the way a Spirit Halloween nun costume is Catholic.” 

⸙

They could’ve walked the whole city and still, neither of them would’ve felt like going home. 

Remus seemed to have a story for every corner of St. Augustine. Whether it was ghost stories or all the spots Sirius and James had thrown up and fell onto their faces, he told the stories so well that Regulus clung a little closer to him or ended up doubled over in laughter. 

The night had cooled as it turned into the next day, and Regulus doesn’t remember when he ended up swallowed by this lovely, soft flannel shirt but he knows that it smelled like warmth and paint and bourbon, and it made him want to choke on it. They had stopped for drinks at Prohibition Kitchen, lured in by the live music playing inside, and after stumbling back out into the city with renewed vigor Remus’ tour seemed even more enchanting. 

It led them right to where Remus had first asked him on this date. St. Augustine’s Basilica stood before them in its dark unlit glory, and Regulus looked up at its exterior with newfound interest as Remus wrapped up his history lesson on exploding corpses and English conquerors. 

Regulus always wondered what tiny piece of good old St. Augustine’s body ended up behind glass and henceforth deemed a canonized relic. 

So, there they were only a street away from Regulus’ dormitory and standing at a crosswalk while the lights changed for no one in particular. 

“Time to walk you home?” Remus hummed, tucking a curl behind Regulus’ ear while he clung to his arm, Regulus a little more on this side of drunk. 

“I don’t want to…” He tried not to sound like he was whining. 

“Me either, but we’ve got class tomorrow.” Remus sighed. “Trust me, if I could take you back to my place I would.” This made Regulus dig his chin into his bicep, looking up at him with wide eyes. “Not like that, I mean. Not that I wouldn’t mind, but not like this. I’m sorry, I mean-” 

The smile growing on Regulus’ face made him trail off, Remus getting lost in just looking down at Regulus with a smile spreading on his own face. 

“Say something, please. Before I spontaneously combust.” Remus nearly whispered. 

“I want to go home with you too.” Regulus admitted. “But you’re right, not like this.” 

Even in his drunken state, the one thing Regulus realized he had forgotten to mention burned lowly. The embers of it gave a sizzling pop as if to remind him it was still there. 

“Let’s get you home then, pretty boy.” Remus started them in the direction of their campus, wrapping his arm around Regulus’ waist.

Remus didn’t just drop him off at the front gate, he walked him through the college, and they laughed their way up the stairs to Regulus’ dormitory. Once Regulus had successfully led them to his door, he pressed his back to it and turned in Remus’ arms, his chin tilted up and the crown of his head against the wood. Remus’ hands floated up to his hips. 

“So, when are you taking me out again?” Regulus asked haughtily, a smirk playing on his lips. 

Remus scoffed, looking down at him with amusement. “Really? I thought tonight went horribly.” He murmured, slowly lowering his forehead to Regulus’. 

“Oh no, it did. But I’m willing to give you a second chance.” He wet his lips, tilting his chin up further. 

“How’s Friday night sound?” He said right up against Regulus’ lips. 

“I can do Friday.” Their lips were brushing on every consonant. 

“It’ll be a surprise.” Remus warned with a lilt of his voice, digging his thumbs into Regulus’ hipbones. A quiet noise left Regulus’ lips and their noses bumped.

“Do your worst.” 

Then their lips were sliding together. Bourbon, gin, the cigarette Remus lit up in front of Regulus’ favorite cemetery. His hands slid up to Remus’ neck and his thumbs pressed against the hinge of his jaw. Their lips locked perfectly, once, but they didn’t open their mouths any further, just interchanged their breaths like a promise to see each other later that week before breaking apart. 

It was chaste in a way, and respectful. Everything a first kiss should be, but the only first kiss for Regulus that didn’t end up with clothes coming off. He’d never gone on a second date, let alone planned one before the first date was over. They were just acquaintances hours ago, had never been friends, and more importantly never pretended like this was something other than what it was. Something in Regulus’ gut told him this was how it was supposed to be. 

“Goodnight,” Regulus whispered, still a breath away from Remus. 

“I’ll text you.” Remus said, and it felt reassuring, a sign that he wasn’t making this out to be more in his head. He straightened up and stepped away from Regulus, letting him call Barty to open the door. 

Regulus shot Remus a glance, checking him out as he stood there, indecisive on whether he wanted his hands in his pockets or not, and looking all together fidgety. Barty didn’t answer, and Regulus worried he’d slept through the call until he heard the lock flip from inside. 

“Well-” Regulus didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence, because Remus had pulled him in by the waist and pressed their bodies flat together. Regulus made a surprised noise right into his mouth and slung his arms around Remus’ neck in a perfect reenactment of their earlier hug. He got onto his toes and parted his lips for Remus, who wasted no time. 

He kissed Remus back with an equal amount of desperation, closing his eyes and resisting the urge to moan from deep within his chest, their noses danced around each other as they moved synchronously, letting their tongues meet momentarily before a subtle growl left Remus and they split just as suddenly as it had started. Regulus left his forehead against the other mans. 

“I’m fucking obsessed with you.” Remus said lowly. 

It should have been a red flag. It was a little—a lot—early to be saying something like that. But Regulus was in no position to talk, he manifested every second of this. Now, his legs were weak, and his heart was banging at his ribs to be let out.

“Me too.” He admitted.

Remus swallowed roughly and set Regulus down. “Text me,” He said with an air of finality.

“I will.” Regulus tried not to smile at his tone, wiping his lips with the sleeve of the flannel. He turned and cracked the door to his and Barty’s room, slipping through the space as to not let too much light in and disturb his roomate. “Bye.” He said quietly through the slit. 

Remus gave an admittedly awkward little wave and started walking backwards until he turned. Regulus watched as his hand shot for that one curl as soon as he thought he was out of Regulus’ line of sight. He smiled, watching Remus fuss with it and mutter to himself until he was gone. 

“How’d it go?” Barty groaned when he finally shut the door. 

Regulus sighed and threw himself onto his bed, it creaked and groaned under his weight as he kicked off his shoes and tore the flannel off his body. He bunched it up and pressed it to his face, his shoulders rising with how deep of a breath he took. 

Bourbon, paint, smoke. 

He opened his eyes and stared at the roof. Barty audibly propped himself up in his bed to glance at Regulus in the dark. 

“That bad?” Barty teased. 

Regulus felt a manic smile stretch his face. 

“I’m in love.” 

Remus: Be ready at 7:00 pm on Friday.

Regulus glanced at his phone from behind his textbook, chuckling at the message before picking his phone up.

He paused. If a boy is ovulating is that enough to convince himself that sleeping with the guy he wants to take things slow with is a good idea?

Moments later he was tapping the call button, it barely rang once before Remus was on the line.

“Yes?”

“Where are we going?”

“I said it was a surprise.”

“I was hoping you’d forget.” Regulus slouched in his desk chair. “What are you doing?”

“In bed, at home, bored. What about you?” His voice sounded so close to the phone, it was deep and rough. Regulus rolled his eyes for even thinking that.

“Barty finally worked up the nerve to ask his theatre crush out for drinks, so I’m all alone. And I’ve been so bored, I decided to get ahead of next week’s reading about the joys of fauvism.”

“Why didn’t you call me? I could’ve brought you food and we could’ve studied together.”

“I didn’t want to bother you.” Regulus picked at his bottom lip, he was a little too good at this.

“You could never bother me.” Remus replied instantly. It got a small laugh out of Regulus.

“Are Sirius and James home?”

He could hear Remus sit up in bed, sheets rustling. “No, actually.” He sounded like he’d just realized this.

“Where are they?” Regulus pressed.

“Uh, Sirius said he was going out and James is on a date.”

“So, you have the house all to yourself?” Regulus’ ears perked.

“Yeah, for now.” Regulus couldn’t tell if Remus had put it together yet or not, so he decided to make himself clear.

“Want me to come over?”

“Yes. Yes. Yes.” He could hear Remus’ relief. “I wanted to ask you to come over so bad, but I didn’t want to be presumptuous.”

“You’re such an idiot.” Regulus scoffed, “I’m on my way.”

“I will be counting down the seconds.” Remus stressed.

________

Regulus could hear Remus tripping over things to get to the door.

The walk over wasn’t bad; it was a slow off-season Wednesday night. Downtown crawled with mostly students or retirees with little middle ground.

“Hi,” Remus said when he got the door open.

Regulus smiled up at his goofy incredulous face. “Hi,”

Remus, was not wearing a shirt. Remus had more scars than the ones on his arms and face.

He stepped inside after Remus and watched him lock the door and move towards him. As always, the living room was lit with a purplish psychedelic glow, and Regulus doesn’t know if its color theory but the white scarring on Remus’ chest was glowing as if under blacklight.

Regulus put his body in front of Remus before he could lead him out of the living room and to his room. His fingertips almost grazed the one on his ribs.

Remus looked down at him, a confused wrinkle between his brows.

“If I ask will you get mad at me?” Regulus tilted his head up at him.

“Why would I get mad at you?” Remus seemed even more confused.

“I don’t know some people are sensitive about that kind of thing.” He shrugged, touching his cold fingertip to the edge of the one on Remus’ collarbone.

Remus’ skin twitched under Regulus’ very fingerprint, “I got attacked by a shark when I was thirteen.”

“You were?!” Regulus’ eyes widened and his face drew back.

Remus grabbed his hips and pulled Regulus against him. He made Regulus shiver when he laughed so close to his ear on his way to peck his cheek.

“No, I’m joking. It was a glass blowing accident last year.” Remus said like that made anymore sense and started walking Regulus backwards down the hall and into his room.

“Glass blowing? Why were you glass blowing?” He went on like nothing was happening.

“I was trying to find my medium. Then the medium blew up in my face.” Remus shot Regulus a quirky frown.

“Well, did you find your medium?” Regulus slid his hands down Remus’ arms just as he was led past the threshold of Remus’ room.

“Yeah, it’s not fucking glass blowing.”

Remus kicked the door shut and bent slightly to capture Regulus’ lips with his. Regulus instantly slung his arms around his neck and dragged him closer, reaching one hand up into his hair and deepening the kiss. Remus’ mouth opened for him instantly. The hands on his hips slid down and behind his knees, taking him right off his feet. He crossed his ankles at the small of Remus’ back and let himself be turned.

His back was slammed into the door to Remus’ room. He half gasped and half moaned at the surprise and feeling of Remus’ strength. Then he felt the deep possession in his hands as he squeezed Regulus’ body. The bruising way he kissed Regulus breathless. He came up for air before it was too late for him.

“One sec,” He took a second to calm down and try to quiet the urge to grind himself against Remus. His underwear was slick. “I forgot to tell you something.” He sighed and rolled his eyes at his own stupidity.

“Oh, okay.” Remus put him down instantly and followed Regulus to sit on the edge of the bed.

Regulus took a moment to look around Remus’ room. A bit small but enough for a bed, a desk, and shelves neatly organized with what seemed like anything an artist would ever need. Remus blended perfectly with his space in the warm lamplight. When his eyes fell back on Remus, he found him on the edge of his seat.

“I’m trans.” Regulus said very plainly and immediately he started to analyze everything that flickered across Remus’ face.

Remus only furrowed his brows and tilted his head.

“You want to be a girl?”

Regulus was speechless for the first time in his life.

He didn’t know how to do this. On every hookup app a suitor would know Regulus was trans before even messaging him, and everyone in their town knew Regulus was once shortly a girl. This wasn’t usually a thing he has to do.

Regulus forgot he was trans.

“Though I will take that as a compliment, the answer to that will always be no.” Regulus joked to himself, “I was born a girl and now I’m Regulus.”

Remus changed his expression and nodded, seemingly deep in thought. Regulus leaned forward when Remus stayed silent for more than five seconds, only to jump back when Remus suddenly sprang back to consciousness.

“I have a question.” He raised his hand halfway.

“What’s your question?” Regulus said trepidatiously.

“What do you have?” He thinks Remus was trying to ask as politely as he could here.

Usually, that question would be offensive and intrusive, but seeing as Remus is the man Regulus is seconds from letting into his pants to do God knows what; he deserves to know.

“I have a vagina.” Regulus tried not to laugh but ended up blushing anyways. He held eye contact with Remus the whole time just to see if he’d get uncomfortable.

“Okay, this changes things.” Remus sort of spoke it to himself, his hand went for that curl.

Regulus heart squeezed frightfully, “What do you mean?”

Remus placed his elbows on his knees and fussed with his hair. “I’ve been daydreaming about giving you head all week. Now I have to like, change the anatomy settings on daydream you.”

Regulus let his prior nervousness escape with a laugh that had bubbled up in this throat. He was such an idiot.

“Do you still see yourself doing it?” Regulus asked coyly.

“Fuck yeah, that’s not even a question.” Remus straightened. “I like you so much, nothing will change that.” He insisted with his hands.

“Thanks.” Regulus didn’t know how to take that big of a compliment, so he changed subjects. “My parents were good about it and I transitioned young so, sometimes I forget I’m different.”

“I can imagine,” Remus turned himself back towards Regulus. “I have more questions, if you’re comfortable.” He steepled his hands.

“Ask your questions.” Regulus encouraged him.

“These are sex related.” Remus continued to warn Regulus. It was endearing, and it was driving him a little crazy. He nodded to show Remus he could go on. “Which hole do you prefer?” Remus squinted his eyes like he was waiting for Regulus to slap him.

Regulus smirked before he spoke, leaning in a little. “I like getting fucked in my pussy the most, but I like anal too.” He said smugly.

Remus’ pupils blew.

“I’ve never heard you speak like that.” He nearly whispered.

“I’m pretty good at talking like that.” Regulus assured, leaning back onto his hands.

“Do you understand what you look like while you talk like that?” Remus scooted closer, gathering Regulus’ legs onto his lap.

“Tell me, what do I look like?” Regulus bent his neck for Remus.

“You look like an angel, but you’re saying dirty things.” He huffed against his pulse before he sucked on it. “My brain can’t comprehend it. It’s like my hearing goes underwater when you talk like that.” Was groaned frustratedly along his collar bone.

He doesn’t know what it was about an artist coming undone while he bites the side of your neck, but Regulus urgently moved to straddle him as he sat on the edge of the bed.

“Touch me, since you’ve been daydreaming about it so much.” Regulus said between a kiss. Remus was hard under him; solid between his legs.

“Please,” Remus whined on his lips, his hands flexing on his waist.

Regulus didn’t anticipate the rush that gave him. He gave a testing roll of his hips against Remus’ body, just to see what he’d do. Remus’ lips parted, and a low almost edible noise escaped him. Regulus felt himself pulse.

“I’ve been daydreaming about you too.” He tangled his fingers in Remus’ hair and arched his body into him. Remus let his face be tugged around however Regulus deemed fit, his hands covertly massaged their way down his waist and around him entirely. Remus’s palms groped at his cheeks, pulling the waistband of his sweatpants askew when Remus guided Regulus into grinding himself on him again.

Regulus licked a stripe over Remus’ ear and slid his hands down his arms to chase the goosebumps as they formed, Remus moaned into his neck.

He thought he was in control of the situation. He kept toying with Remus, just trying to figure him out. He was whiny but all-consumingly possessive, Regulus could feel through his hands how much he wanted to tear into him. He couldn’t tell if Remus usually liked being power bottomed, or if he was just letting Regulus get away with it.

Just as he was about to test that theory further, he was flipped onto his back. Remus loomed over him for a second before straightening back up.

It was Regulus who was left breathless with his hands tossed by his head, not knowing what came next.

Remus planted his hands on the tops of Regulus’ thighs with a small squeeze. “Can I figure you out first?”

“Figure me out? What do you mean?” Regulus leaned up on his elbows.

“I want to know what you like, what makes you come, all of that.” Remus said, giving Regulus a little push that he took as a sign to move up to lay on the pillows.

Regulus scoffed as he did so, rolling his eyes. “Nobody has ever made me finish.” He said as a challenge.

“Then you haven’t been with the right person,” Remus shot back while adjusting himself in his sweats and rolling onto the bed next to Regulus.

“That’s what they all say.” Regulus turned into him.

Cuddling with a person for the first time was always a little awkward, especially in the states they were in. Regulus thought it would feel strange; going from making out to dry humping to just cuddling and talking about what each other is into.

Regulus never went for the communicative types, but he supposes he’ll come to appreciate it once he gets used to it. He cuddled up onto his chest like he thought Remus wanted him to.

He was expecting more questions from Remus, but instead he felt a warm hand sliding under his hoodie and an arm snaking itself under his body. Remus positioned Regulus to lay on his back but pulled one of his bent spread legs over his body. When he had Regulus settled half onto himself, Remus’ fingers hooked themselves under the waist band of Regulus’ pants and helped him slide them off.

Regulus’ breath hitched as he lifted his hips and used his own hands to rip them off. He felt more naked than ever, even if Remus wasn’t wearing a shirt, and he still had his hoodie and boxers on. The slick spot on his underwear and the way he let Remus’ hands ruck up his hoodie was far more embarrassing.

He turned his face up and found Remus examining him with low lidded eyes, Regulus ran his nails through the undercut of Remus’ hair.

“I was trying to take things slow with you.” Regulus tried joking to release some of the energy that had coiled up in his body.

Remus lifted an eyebrow, “We are taking things slow?”

“This is slow to you?” He said between some indulgent kisses on Remus’ bottom lip.

“Yeah, we’re not fucking. I just want to learn how to please you.”  Remus paused to savor the gasp Regulus let out when he traced his fingers down his happy trial and between his hips. “It’s like practice.”

“Practice,” Regulus agreed, wishing Remus would touch him. His fingers kept ghosting past where Regulus wanted his hands the most. He was hot and leaky, and so hard it’d started to hurt. The little tent he made was no match with what he was feeling Remus press up against his thigh.

“I like how your brain works.” Regulus said quietly, resting his arms behind his head just to get them out of the way.

He shivered as one of Remus’ hands encompassed his chest, his thumb and pinky reaching across to both skim over his nipples. Regulus arched into it with a whine, and Remus chuckled lowly.

“Are you usually this sensitive?” He asked, watching Regulus’ face as he rolled one of his nipples between his finger and thumb. The confusion melted from Regulus’ face.

“No,” He insisted, but his squirming at every touch wasn’t making a convincing case.

He really wasn’t. Regulus had resided himself to a life of faking orgasms from penetrative sex. This much time and attention on him was making him short circuit, and Remus was taking his time.

When fingers finally skimmed between his legs, Remus sucked his teeth like something had offended him. Regulus’ head perked up too see what was wrong.

Remus’ fingers ran up from the wet spot on Regulus’ boxers, barely grazed his clit on the way, and suddenly Remus’ hand was in his underwear. Regulus made an embarrassingly loud noise when Remus took two fingers and mixed them into his cunt, prodding his hole shallowly, and making a teasing circle around his aching clit.

“Baby, you’re soaked.” Remus muttered into his ear, and it was the only thing he could hear other than Remus’ fingers playing in his underwear. “Take these off, they’re a mess.”

Regulus nodded and used his own hands to peel them off and throw them somewhere. He spread his legs for Remus again almost immediately after, settling back into his spot next to him. He held onto the arm Remus had across his chest like he was on a roller coaster that was about to drop, Remus kept circling his finger around him.

“Okay, show me how you touch yourself.” Remus said in a voice too sweet for what he was asking for.

“Nobody’s ever done this with me.” Regulus stifled a giggle but brought an arm down anyways. He ran his fingertips around his holes to get them wet, not even caring that Remus was watching his every move. He was looking up at his face as he positioned his hand how he liked and started stroking his bottom growth with the sides of his thumb and index.

Remus watched intently for a few moments, still running his hands around Regulus’ bare inner thighs. Then, he looked down at Regulus’ face, catching him staring, and quite literally jerking off to Remus’ profile. Regulus didn’t even want to know what kind of dumb face he was pulling right now.

It probably looked even dumber when Remus’ hand gently insisted they switch off, and he didn’t miss a beat.

“How’s that feel?” Remus pressed a gentle kiss to Regulus’ parted lips.

“Really good,” He nodded shakily, trapping noises behind his lips.

He kind of felt on fire.

“Go ahead, I like hearing you. It’s a corner apartment; you’re not waking anyone up.”