A/N: I couldn't resist doing these two again. Oh, how I love the tragedy of the ship that is Regidion! Written for Men's Boxing in the Hogwarts Games.
Prompt: 20. Guilty
Pairing: Regulus Black/Gideon Prewett
This is wrong.
Boys aren't supposed to want this. You're not supposed to want this, want him.
(Purebloods, Blacks, Slytherins aren't supposed to want him. Silly Regulus, you're all of those things.
Act like it.)
You're not supposed to lie beside him and want nothing more than to bundle him in your arms and just stay there, still, until you feel your hearts synchronise and your breathing slow.
You're not supposed to watch the flutter of his fair eyelashes on his cheek and think about how beautiful he is, how perfect, all blue-eyed beauty and fire-red hair.
You're not supposed to sit up, slip an arm around his waist and caress the skin of his stomach as your lips find his.
You're not supposed to love him like this.
(You're not supposed to love a Gryffindor, no, no, anyone but a Gryffindor.
Anyone but a Prewett.
Anyone but him.)
But then there's the unequivocal, undeniable, utterly unquestionable fact that you do.
You love him.
So you kiss him anyway and only cry when your curtains are drawn and the lights are out and you're alone. Because you love him and you have him, even if only behind closed doors, but you can't stay with him and your future, your destiny, your parents are strangling all your hope and Gideon, Gideon, Gideon.
The guilt creeps in when you lie awake, running over your skin in sickening waves, and your stomach drops and twists and, oh, Gideon.
Your hand holds tight your left forearm, fingernails pressing in, digging into your flesh, so that you can distract yourself from the burning. The burn of betrayal, of weakness, of guilt.
Blood dribbles down your wrist in stilted droplets, bright against your skin.
You're not supposed to do this.
But you need to.
Because maybe, one day, you'll be strong enough to hold him, to tell him comforting lies, and carry his weary, wary heart in the palm of your hands until the end of time.
(And, maybe, just maybe, you'll love him enough to not care who sees.)