When Regulus went into the cave he already knew he was going to die. His decision had been made, he had accepted his fate, he was ready. So imagine his devastation when we came out of the cave still entirely there, alive. breathing. The thing about living is that nobody tells you how to do it after you’ve already decided to die. Regulus had made his decision, so why was he still here?
Most days he would wake up with a sick sort of sinking feeling in his stomach. The feeling that he was living on borrowed time that he never deserved in the first place, the feeling that he should have died in that cave, that he did die in that cave and that this was all some cruel joke the universe was playing. Sometimes Regulus almost lets these thoughts slip. Sometimes he feels like he doesn’t really have control over his mouth and that scares him because he knows that Barty, and Evan, and Pandora and Dorcas, will never truly understand. They’ll try, sure, they’ll try real awful hard, but that doesn’t mean they will. Nobody will.
Though Regulus would never admit it to anyone but himself, he thinks he wanted to die. He thinks he would have made everyone's life better if he had simply died with the locket. But no, instead he has to live with severe aquaphobia and an addiction to painkillers that hadn’t even been prescribed. Since the cave, Regulus couldn’t step foot near water of any sort, his weekly baths were bad enough. He could hardly handle those, let alone anything else.
By now the war has ended, Voldemort's dead and Regulus has finally made it out of that house. He should be happy, he should be relieved. So why isn’t he? Regulus shares an apartment with Barty who doesn’t usually comment on his drug use. Sure, he would like for Reg to stop but he knows it’s not that easy. He’s been through it too. That’s why Barty doesn’t ask him to stop, he knows that if Reg wanted to he would try. So instead he’s just there for him. He’s there to put back the pieces when he’s breaking apart. When he’s shattered on the floor, Barty’s there to hold him until he’s okay again. He doesn’t question things or ask him what’s wrong, he just listens and stays.
It’s really that simple, he stays. Barty Crouch Junior is probably the only constant in Regulus’s life. Everyone else leaves. Everyone. Leaves. But not Barty, Barty’s been with him since first year and their friendship hasn’t changed since. He always comes back. They help each other.
Regulus often sits at his desk for hours staring at blank pages as he tries to write out his feelings. That’s what everyone tells him to do, to write. It’s what people expect of him. He used to write a lot, he would sit at that desk and write until his fingers bled, until his ink bottle ran dry, he would write until every page was full, until he couldn’t anymore. It was something he loved doing, making up stories in his head and spilling them out on the paper. Usually the words would just flow, but recently he’s discovered that he can’t anymore. Writing doesn’t give him the freedom, the release that it used to. He can’t write anymore.
Everyone only ever knew him as Regulus Black, the boy from the horrible home, who wrote just a bit too much and was forced into the dark mark when he was far too young. They knew him as a writer, a poet, and now he couldn’t even live up to that. Every time he sat down at his desk, nothing would come to his mind. He couldn’t write a single sentence, let alone pages upon pages.
He shouldn’t complain, Regulus knows that. He’s here, he’s alive, he shouldn’t be, but he is. He knows he should be grateful for this “second chance” that he shouldn’t waste it on drugs and wallowing, but he can’t help it. He doesn’t know who he is anymore.
~
“Reg?” Barty asks gently as he holds Regulus. “Reg.” Regulus takes a deep shaky breath before responding.
“Hmm?”
“I just— You scared me, that’s all.” Regulus gets into his head, he always does. I scared him. Of course I did, of course I do, this is why everyone leaves. Oh fuck he’s going to leave. He can’t leave. I don't want him to leave, but he’s going to leave.
“Oh.” Regulus breathes, too quiet. His hands tighten into fists against Barty’s shirt. I scared him.
He pulls back slightly, something venomous lacing itself into his voice. “You don’t have to stay, you know.” Maybe if I give him the choice—maybe if I expect him to leave, he won’t. Maybe if I act like I don’t care, it won’t hurt when he goes. I really don’t want him to go. Barty stiffens.
“Regulus—”
“If this is too much, just say it- If I’m too much.” Merlin, I'm being difficult again, what am I saying? Why am I doing this? Why do I push people away? It’s my fault they leave. It’s my fault.
“That’s not what I— I just hate seeing you like this, you know. It hurts. Seeing you like this? Hurts.”
“Why are you still here then?” Regulus snaps. I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry. “I hurt people, that’s what I do, I don’t want to but I do, and now I’m hurting you, Merlin, I’m hurting the only person who ever gave a shit. You should go. You should- everyone else leaves. Why did I think you’d be any different?”
A look of hurt, then anger, crosses Barty’s face before he defends himself. “Hey, that is not fair. I am different Reg. Don’t you dare put me in the same category with everyone else. I’m not Sirius, I’m not your parents, I’m not James, I’m not leaving. I just don’t want to have to watch you leave me. And at the rate you’re going, it’s gonna happen. I can’t lose you Reg, I don’t want to.”
The words hang between them for a moment and Reg moves closer to Barty, hiding his face in his chest. Regulus desperately wants to believe Barty, but it’s really not that simple. He knows better. Not yet. You will though. Everyone does.
~
Barty had spent the last several days trying to convince regulus that he wasn’t going to leave. He knew that Regulus was fragile and that it wasn’t going to be easy for him to trust that Barty would stay, but he was sure as hell going to try. It started with small things, laying in bed all day, holding him when he was falling apart. Telling him to eat when he needed to and Reg actually listening. It was the little thing that mattered.
Regulus no longer spent hours crying on the floor, he didn’t start shaking and sobbing over the tiniest things or anything at all. No more panic attacks. He was just silent. Barty couldn’t tell if this was a good sign or not. He knew that emotions were a thing and that everyone felt them, even those who pretend they don’t, even Regulus. He knew that even though Regulus put on fake smiles and fake laughs, that he wasn’t truly okay.
Barty can tell that Reg wants to get better, but he also knows that it’s hard for him. Addiction is a difficult thing, he knows that, of course he knows that, he’s been through it himself. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t wish that things could be easier. That Regulus could just get better simply because he wanted to get better.
~
Regulus had gone silent.
He wasn’t talking much, he wasn’t crying, he wasn’t doing much of anything actually. Occasionally Barty would tell him to eat something, usually he would listen only because he didn’t want to make him upset like he had the first time he had refused.
He was trying to get better, he swears he was. Regulus would try taking slightly less each time, and he was trying not to drink as much. He couldn’t really tell if it was working but he hoped it was. He didn’t want to scare Barty, he wanted things to get better. He wanted to believe in something. So he was believing that Barty wouldn’t leave and that would get sober. He would get clean. Sure he was so far up in denial he could be in the fucking river, but denial was how you get what you want right? Deny deny deny, until finally you just believe it.
That’s what he wanted to think. He wanted to be better, for Barty, for Pandora, for everyone. He just didn’t know how.
~
Regulus is happy. He hasn’t had a drink in weeks and hasn’t been doped up on painkillers for at least 7 days. He thinks this is it, he’s better, he’s sober, he’s clean. Things can get good again. He believes in himself, he believes that he won’t get back into old habits.
Seeing Barty’s smile when he tells him that he’s clean means the world to him. It’s like everything suddenly matters again just because Barty’s there and he’s smiling and he’s happy for him. Regulus is happy.
~
Regulus is angry. After being sober for weeks, he caved and let himself have one little drink, but one little drink turned into four and that turned into six and that turned into a very drunk regulus laying on Barty’s chest and crying and crying because he couldn’t for the life of him figure out what was wrong with him.
He just wanted to get sober, why couldn’t he get sober?
“Why am I like this? B, why do I do this to myself? I do this to myself, I know I do but I don't know how to stop, I want to stop. I want to, for me, for you. But I don’t know how. I thought I did, I thought I was clean, I thought I was sober and then… I wasn’t.”
“I know, Reg, I know. I’m sorry. I know you’re disappointed, I know you want to be better, but that takes time, love. It takes so much time and I’m sorry for that. I wish I could do more for you then I’m doing, I’ve been through this, I should know but I don’t and that kills me because I want to help you but I can’t I don”t know how and I’m so sorry Reg.”
All that Regulus wanted to do was get sober, why was that so hard? Why couldn’t he just flip a switch and stop craving the alcohol and the drugs every second of every day? Why, why, why, there were so many “why’s”. Regulus is angry. At himself, at the world, at Barty for not doing enough and doing everything he possibly could. He was angry.
~
Regulus is tired. He’s tired of the pounding headaches, of the shaking hands, of the tiny voices drilling into his head that he needs to take more. He’s tired of everything. He just wants to sleep, he just wants alcohol, he just wants painkillers, he just wants to stop. He just wants everything to Stop. He wants to breathe. Regulus is tired. Just one drink shouldn’t hurt right?
~
Regulus is proud. He’s proud that he suppressed the urge, he’s proud that he stopped it from happening, he’s proud that he threw everything out, he’s proud that he made it at least a little bit. The urge had almost overtaken him, it told him to drink, to down the bottle of vodka and chase it with painkillers, but he had stopped himself.
He’s not quite sure how he did it, but he did, he managed it, and he was okay now. He felt a little nauseous, he wished he could drink, but he can’t, he knows he can’t. For him, for Barty, He can’t. So he stops. He pours the vodka down the sink and throws the pills in the dumpster outside his apartment. Regulus is proud, he’s proud of himself, he’s proud of how far he’s come, he’s proud.
~
Regulus was sober. Finally, he was sober. It was difficult, and it hurt, but he was. It had taken six months, six months of highs, and lows, and thinking he’d made it only to relapse days later but he was finally sober. He no longer used alcohol and painkillers as a release, he could write again. He could write again. Barty was happy and that made Regulus happy, Regulus was so happy.
He got a job at some freelance company where he could write pretty much anything he wanted. The hours were good and so was the pay, it was a perfect fit. Barty was working in a tattoo parlor, he and Evan had applied together and both got hired. Reg hasn’t had to fight the urge to reach for a drink, or down a few pills in quite a while. He’s proud of himself for that. He knows that he wouldn’t have gotten anywhere if it weren’t for Barty. If Barty hadn’t been there to hold him through the relapses or tell him he’s proud of him when he could stay away from the drugs and the alcohol, he doesn’t think he could have done it. He would have given up at the first sign of difficulty.
He feels different now, he feels better. It’s like energy is just flowing through his veins in the best way possible and he’s so purely blissful that he made it this far.
For a while everythings good. Everyones happy, work is good, life's good, everythings good. That’s what Regulus wants to believe anyway. Regulus is happy so everyones happy, that’s how it works. But that’s not how it works.
Barty’s tired. He understands Regulus, he knows his pain, he knows that there will be bad days, bad nights, where he doesn’t want to do anything, where the addiction will take over. And he’s ready, he’s prepared to be there for Regulus, to tell him to ignore the urge and to take a healthier route instead. He knows that won’t always work either.
Barty loves Regulus. With his entire heart, he loves Regulus so much, but he’s so tired. He just… He needs a moment to himself. He needs to breathe. Breathing is important every now and again, it’s important so that you don’t suffocate. So you can live. Living and surviving are two different things. Living is.. Being alive, awake, there. Living is feeling the rush of adrenaline when you wake up in the morning, living is being excited to go out, to do things.
Surviving is trying to live, but not. Surviving is like… staying in limbo. You’re here but you’re not really here. You’re tired, and all you want is to just go to sleep forever but you know that you can’t, that you shouldn’t. So you don’t. So you survive.
That’s what Barty was doing, surviving. But it was okay. It was so incredibly okay because Regulus… Regulus was living. And that was so important to him.
Everything finally comes crashing down around Barty when he zones out doing a tattoo. He almost hurts their client and messes up the tattoo in the process.
“Barty?” Evan asks but gets no response when he notices that Barty isn’t entirely there.
“Hey, Barty, snap out of it.” Barty’s eyes focus, it’s like he’s being pulled out of a trance.
“Huh?” He asks.
“Hey.” Evan said, realizing just how close they had gotten. “You uh- zoned out. Mid tattoo, figured I’d get you out of the daze. Come here. We should talk.. I think”
“Alright, give me a second.” Barty turns off the tattoo gun and places it on the tray. “Hey man, I’ll be right back.” He tells the client who grumbles slightly in annoyance.
Evan leads Barty into the back room and stays quiet a moment.
“What’s this about Ev?”
“Are you okay?” He blurts out.
“What?” Barty questions.
“Are you okay?” Evan asks again, harsher this time.
“I mean, yeah. Totally. Reg’s okay, so I’m okay-”
“No, Barty, Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” Barty says, though he sounds unsure. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because you keep zoning out at work, you look tired all the time. You aren’t your usual self, and frankly- Look. Bee, I know you love Regulus, I know that you love him so, so much, but that doesn't mean you can stop having you as a priority. Right now that’s what it looks like. You’re putting everything into making sure that Regulus is okay, that Regulus is happy. But what about you? Barty, love. You deserve to be happy too. You deserve to be okay”
Barty goes quiet. Nobody’s ever cared enough to notice all of that. Nobody’s ever mentioned his weird little habits, or when he gets like this. Nobody’s cared enough to ask him if he’s okay. But Evan does. And that does something to him, He’s not sure what, but it makes him want to open up. It makes Barty want to tell Evan everything, everything he’s thinking, everything he’s ever thought. He just wants to curl up in a ball and cry.
Barty’s never felt like this before. He didn’t think he could. “I don’t know how.” Barty says quietly.
“You don’t know how to what, love?”
“I don’t know how to be okay. How to put myself first. I never have. I don’t think I can. If- if everyone else is okay then I’m okay, that’s how it works. That’s how it has to work.” Barty isn’t quite sure who he's trying to reassure, Evan or himself. All he really knows is that he has to be okay. He has to be. Because If he isn’t okay, how is he supposed to help everyone else who’s not okay?
“That’s not how it works. You need to take care of you, nobody else is your responsibility. Reg, is not your responsibility. He wouldn’t want you to be risking your health and your mental state just because ‘he’s okay’. So enough with this “He’s okay, I’m okay” bullshit. That’s not how it works and you know it. You need to work something out. Figure out what works and what doesn’t, that way you can both be happy and you don’t have to worry about being tired all the time or messing up a tattoo because you were too busy zoning out. I love you Bee, but you need to help yourself. You need to learn how to put yourself first.”
“I don’t know if I can” Barty can feel the tears burning behind his eyelids, he can feel his hands start to shake. He can feel Evan wrap his arms around him so tightly, and so comfortingly, It’s probably his new favorite feeling. But he can also feel that as soon as Evan embraces him, Barty will break down. He’ll start sobbing, he won’t be able to stop. He’ll let go of everything just to be there with him. Evan was a safe space, Evan was someone that Barty could go to if he needed to talk or to cry or to laugh, he was there, he was always there.
Evan was to Barty what Barty was to Regulus, but he knew how to take care of himself while doing it.
~
The next few weeks were a rollercoaster to say the least. It went something like this:
Sure, he still barely slept. Sure, he still felt like he was standing on the edge of something steep, something that made his stomach churn. Sure, he still needed something—anything—to quiet his thoughts. But that was just how it was. It had always been that way. It wasn’t getting worse. He wasn’t getting worse.
Except, he was.
Barty noticed first. He always did.
"You’re not eating again," Barty murmured, standing in the doorway as Regulus picked at his untouched plate. His voice was soft, careful, like he was afraid of spooking him.
Regulus exhaled sharply. "I ate earlier."
"That’s a lie."
Regulus didn’t respond.
Barty sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “You need to eat.”
“No I don’t” Regulus mumbles.
“Yes. you do.”
~
“We should have a movie night!”
“Barty, what?”
“You heard me! Let’s invite Pandora and Dorcas and Evan over and watch the Titanic or something.”
“You, Barty Crouch Junior, want to watch the titanic?” Regulus narrows his eyes.
“What can I say, I’m a helpless romantic at heart.”
3 hours later
“WHAT THE FUCK ROSE. THERE WAS TOTALLY ROOM ON THAT DOOR WHY ARE YOU HOGGING IT ALL TO YOURSELF YOU SELFISH BITCH?”
It’s safe to say, Barty was really into the titanic. And Evan was really into Barty.
The entire room erupted into laughs when Barty kept yelling at the screen.
“I’d totally be the drunk guy. Like, come on, Surviving just because I drank too much and my body heat was high? That’s totally a ‘me’ thing to do.”
~
The fight started out small. Something about the way Barty had looked at him, something about the way Pandora had laughed. Regulus didn’t even know where it came from, but the moment it started, it didn’t stop.
“Stop looking at me like that!” Regulus snapped at Barty. His chest was tight, his hands trembling. His heart rate was skyrocketing. “I don’t need your fucking pity.”
Barty flinched, his eyes flashing with surprise. “What the hell, Reg?”
But Regulus couldn’t stop. The words were pouring out, jagged and bitter, and he couldn’t control them. “I don’t need anyone’s pity. I didn’t ask for any of this—any of you—I didn’t ask to be here. You can leave, you know. You’re not stuck here with me. Everyone else left, maybe they had the right idea.”
Barty opened his mouth, but no words came out. The hurt in his eyes was almost too much for Regulus to bear, but it was too late. He’d already gone too far.
“I didn’t mean—” Regulus started, but the damage was done. He turned and walked away, his feet heavy, stomach twisting as he hears Barty’s soft sigh behind him.
~
It was late, the cool night air brushing against their skin as they lay on the grass, staring up at the stars. The group had decided to escape the noise of their lives for a while, just to be in the moment.
Regulus was next to Pandora, her head resting on his chest as he pointed out constellations. “That one’s Orion’s Belt,” He said, tracing the three stars with his finger.
Barty, lying on the other side of the blanket, snorted. “You’re such a nerd, Reg.”
“Shut up, Barty” He grinned, rolling his eyes. “You’re just mad because I know more than you.”
Barty, ever the romantic, pointed toward a particularly bright star. “That one’s for us,” he said quietly to Evan, who glanced at him with a raised brow. “It’s the brightest. I like to think it’s us, you know? Always standing out, always shining.”
Evan smirked, leaning closer to Barty. “Always full of cheesy lines, aren’t you?”
“You love it,” Barty shot back with a wink.
For a moment, they were all quiet again, just listening to the soft hum of the world around them. The stars seemed so distant, but in that moment, they felt so close, like a little piece of magic in the universe that had found its way into their lives. That didn’t last long.
~
Regulus had decided that he would go out with his brother. Sirius messaged him and asked if he wanted to go to the local pub and chat about things. Regulus agreed. He figured, what’s the worst that can happen? He’s sober, things are great. Sure they’re going to a pub, but one drink won’t hurt. He can control himself.
“Come on, Reg. It’s just one more drink,” Sirius urged, holding out a shot glass.
Regulus glanced at it, his head already buzzing from the last few rounds. He wasn’t drunk, but the weight on his chest was growing heavier by the second.
“No,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I don’t need it.” Reg knew that he couldn’t. If he took that drink, he wouldn’t stop. He would take more and more and more until everything he had gone through this past year would have been for nothing.
Sirius waved him off. “You sure? You’re the life of the party right now.”
But Regulus wasn’t feeling it. He wasn’t feeling anything, really. His emotions felt like they were in a fog, and the only thing that made them clearer was the burn of alcohol. And so… he took the glass from Sirius, downing it without a second thought.
“Good man,” Sirius grinned. It wasn’t his fault. He didn’t know that reg was technically sober, he didn’t know that this would set him back. All he really wanted was to spend time with his brother. So he supposes he can’t really hold it against him.
Regulus didn’t return the smile. He felt nothing. And that was what scared him more than anything else.
~
The sun had barely risen, and the apartment was quiet. The first light of dawn crept through the blinds, casting soft shadows on the floor. Regulus was already awake, but he wasn’t about to be the first to make coffee. That job—that sacred task—belonged to Barty.
Barty stumbled out of their bedroom, hair a mess and eyes still half-closed. “Morning,” he mumbled, stretching.
“Coffee?” Regulus asked, already reaching for his mug.
Barty smiled lazily. “You know it. Gimme a minute.”
Regulus settled into his usual spot at the kitchen counter, the soft hum of the coffee machine being the only sound in the apartment. There was something quite calming about these moments, the early mornings when it was just the two of them, still in that sleepy haze, but comfortable with each other.
As Barty made the coffee, Regulus leaned back against the counter and watched him, his gaze soft. There was a sense of peace in the ordinary, in these moments where everything just felt... right.
The coffee was ready, and Barty handed him a cup with his usual early morning grin. “Here you go. Best cup of coffee you’ll ever have.”
Regulus took it, savoring the warmth in his hands. “You say that every time.”
“Well, I mean it every time,” Barty replied with a wink. “It’s always perfect. I’m just that good at making coffee. You should know this by now, you drink it every day. And you love it every day”
Regulus sips his coffee, eyes flicking over to Barty. “I’m glad you’re here,” he said quietly. “I’m glad you’ve stayed.”
Barty smiled, reaching out to brush his hand against Regulus’s. “I’m glad, too. You’re my best friend Reg.”
~
Barty was out with Evan.
The silence in the bedroom was suffocating.
Regulus sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the prescription bottle in his hand, turning it over like the answer might be printed on the label. He was so tired.
Of pretending.
Of disappointing people.
Of chasing something that always slipped through his fingers.
He could hear Barty’s voice in his head—soft, insistent, warm. Reggie, just hold on a little longer, yeah?
But Barty wasn’t here. He was out with Evan, laughing, drinking,living.
Regulus swallowed hard, exhaling through his nose. It was better this way. But it wasn’t. But it was? Barty would miss him, sure, but he’d get over it wouldn’t he? No, Regulus wasn’t going to kill himself. He just needed to take the edge off. A couple pills was all. No one had to know, did they?
Of course, Regulus wasn’t exactly in his right mind at the moment, he had a few too many drinks the hour prior. In hindsight that wasn’t a great idea. But that’s the thing about hindsight isn’t it? It’s the past, it’s already happened, you can’t change it.
Just like Regulus can’t change the fact that everyone leaves him. That everyone's going to. Just like he can’t change the fact that he has an addiction. Just like he can’t stop the tears falling down his face or the trembling of his hands as he reaches for the phone, or the gnawing feeling in his gut that isn’t going to end the way he intends it to.
His thumb hovers over Barty’s contact a moment, he almost doesn’t press it, he almost leaves him alone. And in hindsight that would have been a good idea.
But then the voicemail tone beeped, and he let out a shaky breath.
“please- please- barty can you just, can you make it stop- please- i- i need it to stop. I don't want to feel this way anymore” Regulus knew it wasn’t fair of him to ask Barty of this. He knew that only he could make things better, it was his fault this was his reality anyway. “I- I just I need this to stop, please make it stop, help me make it stop. It's like my head keeps buzzing and ringing and it won't stop and it keeps getting louder and I don't want to die and I want it to stop, please make it stop"
He pauses.
"I love you."
And then he hung up.
Regulus stared at the bottle. He knew this was wrong, he knew that in the morning he would regret this. He knew, he knew, he knew. But that didn’t stop him from downing the pills. In hindsight, it may have been too many.
~
Evan and Barty had fun. More fun than they’d ever had actually. Last night was truly magical, and not just because they had had sex for the first time. No, it was so much more than that. It was… It was two souls intertwining, it was “I love you” and so much more. It was the perfect night. Barty couldn’t have asked for anything better.
The next day Barty woke up alone. He wasn’t in his room, or even his apartment. The sheets were different, and the walls were painted a comforting shade of grey. Memories of the previous night came back in a haze and left Barty practically drooling over them.
He was in Evan’s apartment.
So where was Evan?
Slowly, Barty got up from the bed and found his clothes strewn across the room, he grabbed his boxers and a t-shirt before heading to the kitchen where Evan was already waiting for him with coffee and breakfast.
“He cooks?” Barty asked, a lazy grin tugging at the corners of his lips.
“But of course he does, How else is he supposed to impress sleeping beauty?”
Barty was mid-laugh when his phone buzzed.
"Who’s that?" Evan asked, raising an eyebrow.
Barty glanced at the screen— The most recent notification was pandora. But before that- Regulus. A voicemail.
His stomach twisted. Regulus never left voicemails.
"One sec," Barty muttered, stepping outside to play it.
The second he heard Regulus’s voice—thin, distant, wrong—his blood ran cold.
"please- please- Barty can you just, can you make it stop- please- i- i need it to stop-"
No.
No, no, no.
His breath caught. He barely heard the rest before he was dialing back, hands shaking, tears already burning behind his eyes.
Straight to voicemail.
His heart was in his throat, this was last night, what if he needed help? What if he drank too much? What if he’s in trouble? What if- what if- what if? There were so many fucking “what if’s”
"Evan—" His voice cracked as he walked back toward him. “Evan- I- I can’t breathe. I have to- Reg, he’s not. He’s not answering his phone and he left me a voicemail and he was begging for it to stop, begging me to get it to stop and I- I have to help him, because what if-”
“It’s okay, love. I know. I’ll drive you.”
Evan grabbed his keys off the counter and pulled Barty to his car.
~
The quiet hum of the car was unbearable. Every mile felt like it stretched longer than the last.
The voicemail had been a shaky, fragmented confession—Regulus, sounding so small, so broken.
“I- I just I need this to stop, please make it stop, help me make it stop. It's like my head keeps buzzing and ringing and it won't stop and it keeps getting louder and I don't want to die and I want it to stop, please make it stop”
By the time they pulled up outside the apartment, the worst of Barty’s thoughts had already taken hold. His hand trembled as he opened the door and stepped out, half-running toward the front door.
"Evan, stay here," he called out, his voice unsteady. "Just... stay here."
Evan didn't protest. He only watched, brow furrowed, concern etched deep in his features as Barty made his way up the stairs, practically stumbling over his own feet.
His heart was in his throat when he fumbled to unlock the door. The apartment was dark, far too dark for a place that usually had so much life in it. The silence hit him like a wave, washing over him and making the air feel thick and suffocating.
“Regulus?” Barty called out, stepping cautiously inside, every inch of him shaking.
There was no answer.
“Reg?!” A chill ran through him as he walked farther into the apartment, his mind still replaying that voicemail. He couldn’t breathe. The apartment felt too still, too empty. The sight of Regulus’s jacket thrown haphazardly across the couch—something was wrong. Something was terribly, horribly wrong and Barty hadn’t been there to fix it.
He paced the house frantically, His mind was already screaming at him, going a mile a minute,, but he couldn’t stop himself from opening the bedroom door. What he saw would be burned into his eyes forever. Barty knew that. Nobody could see the lifeless body of their best friend and not let it haunt them for the rest of their life. .
Regulus had been slumped against the side of the bed, his body limp, his pale face streaked with tears. The empty pill bottle lay next to him, its cap missing, and the faint smell of chemicals lingering in the air.
Barty’s breath caught in his throat, and everything inside him seemed to crash. His hand went to his mouth, but that didn’t make the raw guttural sound he made come out any quieter.
“No. No you’re not. Reg.”
His hands shook as he gently reached down to touch his shoulder. Regulus’s skin was cold—far too cold. His heart raced as his fingers trembled over Regulus’s arm, trying to find any sign of life, any flicker of warmth. Barty shook his shoulder, he shook his limp body. He couldn’t be… No. He was alive, he was sleeping.
But there was nothing.
Barty felt the world tilt. Everything felt like it was falling out from beneath him, like he was spinning in the most violent storm of his life, and there was no way to stop it. His legs gave out, and he sank to his knees beside Regulus, his tears starting to blur his vision as he whispered his name over and over.
“Regulus… Regulus…”
He couldn't breathe. The tightness in his chest was suffocating him, the air seeming to thin with every breath he tried to take. This couldn’t be real. It couldn’t. Regulus was asleep, he had to be. He had to be.
With shaking hands, he pulled Regulus’s body closer to him, clutching him to his chest. His sobs were uncontrollable now, raw and agonizing. There was nothing left to say, nothing that would fix this. Regulus was gone, and with him so was almost every piece of Barty.
He’d never told Regulus what he really felt, not like he should have. He’d taken every moment for granted, thinking there’d always be time, that there would always be another day to tell him, to show him how much he cared.
He thought Regulus was the one stable thing in his life, the one thing that he couldn’t lose. If Barty stayed then Regulus had to too. That was how it worked, that was how it was supposed to work.
And now it was too late. It was all too late.
The sound of Evan’s voice—distant, muffled—floated in from the doorway, but Barty couldn’t hear the words. His whole world was crashing down, and nothing was going to fix it.
Not anymore.
Not when Regulus Black was dead.