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Shooting Star (n): a visual meteor appearing as a temporary streak of light in the night sky.
The House of Black had been obsessed with the celestial realm for all of living memory. They charted everything in the night sky. They even named nearly every family member after some part of it, usually stars. So when Regulus met James Potter, who blazed into his life like a fallen star, he felt an appropriate amount of wonder.
And yet somehow James always acted like he was the most sublime creature on Earth. Like nothing compared to the favor of Regulus’ gaze lingering on him for just a moment longer than strictly necessary. Like Regulus had been some curious god stepping into the world below without expecting any devotion. Regulus adored James, and James worshipped at his altar, laboring day and night purely to make Regulus happy.
As if his thousand watt smiles didn’t make Regulus momentarily forget how to breathe. As if a light touch of James’ hand on Regulus’ cheek didn’t make Regulus weak in the knees. As if the interplay of their breath before a kiss didn’t cause his heartbeat to stutter. As if the sound of James’ laughter didn’t drown out any thoughts in Regulus’ head.
His sun, his moon, and all of his stars.