….
She leaned against the doorway, arms folded, watching the flickering light of his desk lamp cast long shadows across the cluttered floor.
"…are you done yet?"
Regal didn't even look up at first.
His pen kept moving over the printout, eyes tracing something only he seemed to understand. But then he finally turned, brow still furrowed, and blinked at her like he had forgotten where he was.
"Ah. Sareen. Were you waiting for me?"
His voice was quiet, almost guilty.
"It is past one, Regal." She stepped into the room slowly, barefoot, rubbing her arm. "Also, Gwen and Keanu are already at the flat."
He looked over at the wall clock like it had betrayed him, then ran a hand through his hair, which was messier than usual.
Tomorrow was day one.
The official first day of filming [Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone].
And he still hadn't stepped away from the desk.
Seren didn't blame him, really.
She had watched this same scene a hundred times over the past few years.
Him, hunched over some draft or breakdown or storyboard, eyes glowing with that ridiculous, stubborn fire in them.
He used to have nothing, just a second-hand laptop, a stupidly big dream, and a personality that most producers thought was too sharp for someone his age.
And yet here they were in another country.
His project.
His world.
"Come on." She said, nudging his shoulder lightly. "You have squeezed everything you can out of tonight. Let it go. For …today."
He didn't argue - just stood and shrugged his coat onto one arm. That was his way of saying he trusted her. Even when he didn't say it aloud, she knew.
As they stepped into the hallway and out through the quiet building, she caught him glancing sideways, like his mind hadn't quite let go yet.
"So… what about the costumes?" Regal eyed her. "You finished finalizing everything with the team?"
Seren had grown up hearing that tone, back when his 'team' was just a notebook and a dream he refused to let go of.
She exhaled, not annoyed, just tired. "Yes, boss. Everything has been cross-checked, sorted, color-coded, and sent to Edith. An hour ago. You are not the only one who works late around here."
He gave a small nod.
But she could tell he was still thinking - calculating whether she had caught every little detail.
It made her smile, though.
Because Regal had never, not once, treated her like just his sister when it came to work.
She had stopped being 'Regal's sibling' in the eyes of the crew months ago.
She was Saren now - officially part of the costume department.
A real designer with real hours and real headaches, which six months ago, she couldn't even imagine.
She had always thought she would hate films.
The very idea of it used to feel like a wound - after everything the industry had done to their life growing up, the instability, the absence, the noise of it all.
Cameras and scripts and red carpets had been the reason behind too many late dinners and broken plans.
But life had a way of folding in on itself.
Because now the two most important people in her life lived in that world.
Keanu. Regal.
So she did what she always ended up doing when it mattered - she stepped into it too.
And when Regal asked her if she wanted to try out for a position on the costume team for [Harry Potter], he hadn't looked at her like a sibling.
He had just handed her the packet with the application brief and said. "Show them what you can do."
Because with Regal, if you got the job - it meant you earned it.
Also Regal himself wasn't quite sure about her skills…
Because he didn't use [Insight] on her.
He felt it wasn't needed.
He claimed it wasn't necessary.
That if she got through, then she belonged there.
And if she didn't - then it wasn't her path. Simple.
But his inner self knew the truth.
He just didn't want to look at her that way. Didn't want to reduce her to data points and personality lines.
She wasn't just another name in the cast or crew.
She was family - the only real blood left in this world for now.
And Regal… Regal didn't take that lightly.
They walked in silence for a bit, London's night air brushing past them like a half-whisper, and Seren could sense something in him - tense but buried.
She nudged him gently again, breaking the silence."Honestly, why do you always go full director mode even when we are not on set? You ever think of asking something normal?"
Regal raised an eyebrow. "Like what?"
"I don't know." She said, pretending to think. "Like... how would you feel about becoming an uncle?"
That got him. He stopped walking.
"…Wow. That escalated quickly."
She tried to hide the nerves behind a crooked grin. "Yeah, well. Just thought I would throw it out there."
"Is that a hint?" He asked, narrowing his eyes. "Should I be calling Keanu?"
"Don't!" She interrupted sharply, eyes widening.
He raised an eyebrow. "Something wrong between you two?"
"No… nothing is wrong. We are good. It's just… we haven't really talked about kids. Not even once. And now I am worried he might hate the idea."
Regal gave her that steady look he always used when he was sorting through someone's emotions. "Has he ever said he doesn't want kids?"
"No."
"Ever said anything that would make you think he hates the idea?"
"…No."
"Then stop being a buffoon."
"Hey!" She smacked his arm. "I am being vulnerable here!"
He didn't smile this time, just kept his gaze steady. "You are overthinking. You two are solid and have a lot of time for that. So, take your time. No need to rush into things before you are both ready. Just… make sure you are on the same page, that's all."
Midway, his tone was firmer than usual, more serious. It slipped out before he could soften it.
Honestly, Regal had been slightly sensitive about such a topic ever since he visited Stephen's apartment just a few days ago - how easily things could get tangled when words weren't said in time.
"…Got it." Seren said after a pause, quieter now.
Regal nodded, satisfied. "Good."
A beat passed, then she looked at him sidelong, a smirk forming. "When did you get so old, though? You sound like a grumpy dad."
He grinned. "Don't forget we are twins. If I am old, so are you."
"Ugh. Thanks for that."
"Anytime."
They walked a few more steps in silence, the night cool and quiet around them. Then Regal added, almost too casually:
"Hmm, maybe there is a chance you might become an aunt before I become an uncle."
She stopped mid-step.
Blink.
What? Her head snapped toward him, eyes wide in disbelief.
He laughed immediately. "Kidding. Obviously."
She narrowed her eyes, then bumped his shoulder hard enough to make him stumble half a step.
"Not funny." She muttered - but the smile curling at the edge of her lips betrayed her.
"Little funny." He said as they reached the car.
She rolled her eyes. "You are lucky I didn't have anything to throw."
He grinned, opening the car door. "Next time, carry tomatoes."
She gave a grumpy smile as she entered the car.
For all the madness that tomorrow would bring - lights, actors, pressure, magic - this was the part she knew they had both remembered.
The part where he was just her brother.
Not the director.
Not a genius.
Just Regal.
Her idiot twin.
The dreamer who once pitched a wizard story to a room of two skeptics and made them believe.
And tomorrow… Tomorrow, the cameras will finally roll.
….
Outside, London was winding down - quiet, as if even the city itself knew something important was about to begin. The streets were mostly empty, save for the rare car sliding past or the shiver of leaves brushing against one another in the dark.
The kind of night where thoughts felt louder.
Regal drove with one hand lightly resting on the wheel, his posture loose but his eyes alert, always scanning the road the way he did with everything in life.
Seren sat curled beside him in the passenger seat, knees tucked up, her arms wrapped around her worn canvas bag like it was a comfort blanket.
"You nervous?" She asked, watching him from the corner of her eye.
There was a pause - small but telling.
"No." He said calmly, too calmly.
"…Liar." She murmured, half-hidden behind her bag, but smiling.
He chuckled, barely shaking his head. "Okay. Maybe a little."
"Do you think they will get it?" He added softly, not taking his eyes off the road.
His voice had that quiet conviction again - the one that came out when he wasn't selling a pitch, but baring something personal.
Seren had heard that voice before.
Late nights after rejections.
After the first short film bombed.
After [Following] got ignored by every production house. That same whisper that refused to stop.
She turned in her seat to face him. "I think they will… Or more likely, you will."
She leaned her head back, thinking for a moment. "If anyone can make people believe in it… it's you. You already made me believe in it, and let's be honest, that's a miracle in itself."
He glanced at her, curious. "What do you mean?"
"You know what I mean." She laughed. "I hated fantasy stuff as a kid. Couldn't stand all the shiny, glowing wand nonsense and 'Wingardium-whatever.' It always felt like cartoons for people who took it too seriously."
He smiled. "Yeah. I remember you making fun of Mum for crying during the last movie."
"She was sobbing like someone died!" Seren snorted. "And I swore I would never watch another magical anything again."
She hesitated, fingers picking at a loose thread on her bag.
"…But when I read your script." She said softly. "It didn't feel like fantasy. It felt… weird to say, but - don't laugh - I kept checking the letterbox that week. Like maybe a Hogwarts letter might actually show up."
As soon as the words left her mouth, she froze.
Oh no.
Too much. Too honest. She could already feel it.
The sibling death sentence: giving them ammunition.
She looked at him - but he was quiet. Too quiet.
Then, with slow precision, Regal pulled the car over to the side of the road.
And erupted.
"HAAA—haaa—HAHAA—oh my god—YOU?"
He was cackling like a lunatic, slapping the steering wheel. "This girl thought she would get a Hogwarts letter?!"
"It wasn't—! I didn't actually—!" She tried to defend, but it was over.
The damage was done.
Regal was laughing like it was his full-time job. And sure, it wasn't that funny - he had heard fans say the same thing dozens of times - but this wasn't about that.
This was about doing what older brothers, twin or not, were born to do.
Making fun of their sister.
"Your face!" He wheezed. "Oh my god, I am never letting this go."
She sunk lower in her seat, groaning into her hands. "You are the worst."
"Letterbox." He mimicked in a terrible high-pitched voice. "'Maybe today, it will come—'"
"Shut up."
Eventually, after five full minutes of chaos, he calmed down enough to start driving again.
They bumped shoulders a few times, her shoving him lightly, him swerving slightly in retaliation, and then the laughter faded.
The quiet returned.
But this time, it was a little warmer.
And Sareen, smiling despite herself, decided she didn't really regret saying it.
Soon, after five minutes the car stopped.
When he pulled up to the apartment, the porch light was still on.
A soft amber glow spilled out across the pavement like it had been waiting just for them.
Regal turned off the ignition. Neither of them moved.
"You ready for tomorrow now?" She asked again, this time without teasing.
He looked over, raising an eyebrow with that annoying, smug expression he'd mastered since they were nine. "I was born ready."
She snorted in cringiness. "Right. And I am the Queen of England."
But the grin on her face lingered as they got out of the car.
Because no matter how much he joked, she knew the truth.
….
Inside the flat, Gwendolyn was curled up in the far corner of the couch, legs tucked beneath her and a tablet balanced on her knee, her hair pulled back in a braid that had long since come undone.
She didn't look up right away - her eyes were scanning something on-screen with that same laser focus she always had when notes were involved.
Probably refining one of tomorrow's call sheets or checking continuity.
Keanu, predictably, was nearby with a binder thick enough to be mistaken for a legal document.
Seren had no idea what role he was preparing for - something intense, probably - he never did anything halfway.
As soon as the front door opened, Gwendolyn glanced up. Her voice came out dry but familiar.
"You two took forever."
"Blame your boyfriend." Seren yawned, already halfway to the kitchen, kicking off her shoes mid-step. "He is still micromanaging departments he already approved last week."
Keanu didn't even bother acknowledging the bickering.
He just stood and greeted Regal with that quiet, wordless handshake of theirs - more of a shoulder squeeze and mutual nod, the way men communicate entire sentences without saying a thing.
"Pre-shoot paranoia." Regal said, tossing his coat onto a chair. "You will understand tomorrow. When we are dealing with twelve-year-olds, fake owls, and a schedule that screams louder than any studio exec."
Gwendolyn finally set the tablet aside and walked over to him. She didn't say anything for a moment - just wrapped her arms around him in a hug that wasn't long, or dramatic, but solid.
The kind of hug that said breathe, you made it this far.
"You did everything you could." She murmured, pressing her cheek briefly to his shoulder. "Now it's time to let the team carry it the rest of the way."
Regal exhaled slowly, nodding against her. "Yeah. You are right."
Keanu spoke from the couch, his tone easy. "And you have got us. We are not going anywhere."
Regal raised an eyebrow. "Right. Mr. John Wick."
That cracked everyone up. Even Keanu smirked, flipping his binder shut like it was a mic drop.
It was almost two now, but none of them made any move toward bed. Seren stood in the kitchen doorway with a bottle of orange juice and no glass, just sipping from it like they were still teenagers.
Gwendolyn had sprawled back onto the couch with her feet now resting on Keanu's lap.
Regal sat on the floor with his back against the armrest, shoulders finally starting to loosen.
The air in the room had shifted.
Not solemn, not anxious - just heavy in a good way. Full.
They all knew what tomorrow meant for Regal.
The first shot.
The beginning of everything.
But tonight… Tonight wasn't about that.
They ate cold leftovers with plastic forks, talking about nothing and everything. Someone found an old box of biscuits and passed it around.
Seren dozed off for a few minutes, head tipped against the kitchen counter before jerking awake and pretending it didn't happen.
And somewhere between one story and the next silence, Regal looked up - just looked around the room.
And she knew he felt it too.
This strange little cluster of people.
Not all of them are tied by blood, not really.
But held together by something deeper - shared years, hard choices, blind trust, and the kind of belief that got you through every no, every door slammed in your face.
A family. Made, not given.
Seren caught his eye from across the room. She didn't say anything, just gave a soft, knowing smile.
Tomorrow, the cameras will roll. The lights would come on. And the world would get to see what they had built.
But tonight?
Tonight, they were just the four of them.
Tired, restless, barefoot dreamers in a dim London flat, huddled around the last quiet moment before the storm.
And somehow… It was magic already.
.
….
[To be continued…]
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