Finally Clean

The sheets are rumpled, and the plates are broken on the kitchen floor. Everything is thrown everywhere. No place in the flat is untouched after Barty’s rampage last night. This rampage ended in Regulus falling into bed with him again after he swore he was done. He promised himself he would never run back to him again. Regulus pledged to himself that when he kicked Barty out of their flat, that was the last time they would ever see each other again. But when Barty showed up the previous night drunk and pissed, Regulus opened the door and let him inside. He regretted this decision seven minutes after letting this tornado back into his life. 

“I know you’re sleeping with him!” Barty had shouted. Him? Who the fuck am I sleeping with? Regulus rolled his eyes; it had not been the first time Barty had accused him of cheating on him. But even if Regulus had slept with somebody last night (which he hadn’t!), it shouldn’t matter to Barty because they were broken up! 

"I didn't sleep with anybody last night!" Regulus yelled back, his brain screaming not to continue this stupid discussion. But Regulus didn't listen. He needed Barty to know. He needed him to know he didn't cheat on him (even though they aren't technically together?). He wanted Barty not to think of him like that. Because even after all the shit that Crouch had put him through, Regulus still cared what his ex-lover thought of him. After all, they'd been together forever now. Since they had both figured out they liked the same sex, the two had linked to each other. So it wasn't always bad. Initially, it was nice navigating life together and trying to figure things out side by side. When they were young, the two would fall into bed together. A mess of giggles and confusion. They'd cuddle and, when they were feeling daring, explore each other's bodies. So yes, Regulus knew Barty's body inside out. Knew every sound it would make and how to achieve it. Some would think this history meant Regulus knew Barty himself, but most would think wrong. Regulus used to know him, the smiley raven-haired boy who would bring Regulus sweet treats after school was over. But the boy had turned into something darker as the years passed; his smiles wore away, and something evil replaced the hopeful glimmer in his eyes. 

“Then why was another car here last night?” Barty slurred, his eyes foggy. “You’re caught, Reggie, just apologize and we can work through it.” 

That was my rental car. Dickhead. Considering you fucking crashed mine. Regulus thought. “Barty, we broke up; the people I have over my house are no longer your concern.” How could something that started out so beautiful end up so broken? Regulus knew the answer; it was the pills and the alcohol. Something changed in his now ex-boyfriend after he picked up the habit. It started slow, with weed on the weekend and the occasional drink if he was feeling festive. But then it morphed until Barty had used the alcohol as a crutch; instead of leaning on Regulus with his problems, he allowed the drink to take control of his life. 

“It is my concern, Regulus.” Barty mocks Regulus’s use of Crouch’s full name. “I know what’s best for you. It’s my job to take care of you.” 

Regulus laughs, “You never took care of me! You think showing up piss drunk at my flat at 2 am is taking care of me?” Barty rolls his eyes. 

“I did more for you than you ever did for yourself.” 

“Which was next to nothing, so thank you, Barty. Thank you so much for treating me like royalty.” Regulus’s words are lathered in sarcasm. Thinking back on all the times his lover would come home late, lipstick marks on his white collared shirt. He thought of all the times Barty would drink too much and get angry. And when he was furious, there was only one thing he wanted to do: destroy. But after he was done tearing apart their flat, there wasn’t much left to ruin, nothing except Regulus himself, who then found himself on the receiving end of Barty’s fists—screaming for help. Help that never came. 

“You’re acting like a tosser, Reg. I’ve been there for you.” Barty throws back. 

"Yeah, when we were children, Barty!" Regulus is fuming now. How dare he say he's been good to Regulus when he has the scars that prove otherwise. "Shall I remind you where I got these from?" He holds up his arms; scars and bruises litter his forearms. Barty flinches. "Or how about those broken ribs? Fell off a ladder? Yeah fucking right!" Tears are now streaming steadily from Regulus's grey eyes. He can hear his mother's shrill voice in his head. Boys, don't cry, Regulus. Quit your tears and pull yourself together. Absolute disgrace. He can see her disappointment, feel it seeping into his skin and ripping his soul apart until there's nothing left to take. Barty is silent. There's nothing he can say back to that. Because they both know it's true. They are each so broken, and no amount of trying will solve anything. 

“I’ll change,” Barty whispered, his eyes changing from anger to sorrow. “I’ll do better for you, Reg. I swear by it.” His words were still slurred, and his breath stank of vodka. This should have been a sign to Regulus that Barty would have no recollection of this promise come morning. But hope fluttered in his chest, or was it fear? He couldn’t tell the difference these days. Either way, Regulus sighed and looked away. Wiping his tears on his sleeve. 

“I don’t know Barty. What the fuck happened to us?” His voice is small, afraid, distant. Everything he feared he would become had happened. He let this man turn himself into a monster. He let the monster destroy him as well. He had allowed Barty to use and control him. Why? Because he deserved it? Did he? Regulus doesn’t know. Surely, he deserved some type of punishment for the shame he had brought his family, but did it have to be in the form of the person he loved most hurting him? 

“I never meant to hurt you,” Barty says as he slumps his shoulders. And Regulus knows this isn’t true. He’s seen the way Barty’s malicious eyes gleam before hitting him. Or how his lips would curve into a grin before holding Regulus down and forcing him to have sex with him. But at this point, Regulus is just too tired to fight it. He had gone three days without seeing Barty, the longest he had ever gone. All he knows is that his life has been chaotic; it’s uncharted territory without the constant dragging him down for all his 25 years. Barty moves closer to Regulus, the familiar warmth engulfing Regulus as he breathes in Barty’s familiar scent of vodka and cheap cologne. Regulus is still hesitant when Barty inches from him. However, he is still hesitant when Barty lifts his arms, meaning to bring Regulus into a hug. However, after years of hands being raised for other reasons, Regulus flinches. His eyes shut, and he turns away, bracing for impact. “You really think I’m a monster, don’t you?” 

Regulus can’t answer that question. He embraces the hug that’s being presented to him, fearing that if he rejects it, his fate will be worse. 

“I don’t know how to answer that, Barty.” He feels sobs trying to break free from his throat again but refusing himself the satisfaction of emotion. “I feel so far away from you.” 

“Then come closer. I don’t bite.” He jokes, but Regulus knows he does bite. Hard enough to draw blood. Regulus brings himself closer, unsure of what’s to happen. And that’s when it happens. Barty brings their lips together for a kiss. It tastes vile like something isn’t right. He’s tasted this way for a while. Ignoring all of this for the comfort of familiarity, he kisses back. 

“I don’t think I want to-” 

“Good thing you don’t have a choice.” Barty snips and Regulus hangs his head low in defeat. Following him into Regulus’s bedroom, tears are spilling from his eyes, and he feels empty. A hollow beating in his chest which he knows is fear. A beating where he knows there should be a heart, but there isn’t. His heart was stolen against his will years ago, and eventually, Regulus got too tired to fight for it back. So he fulfills his duties that night, a punishment he is sure he deserves for some reason. As Barty forces Regulus’s mouth open and forces his cock down his throat, he cries. He cries for his stupidity. He cries for his parents; oh, how they would love his agony. And he cries for Sirius. He desperately wishes he could be as free as his older brother. 

Once Barty deems it’s over, he lays down with a huff next to Regulus. Barty is unclothed and sweating and panting like a disgusting pig. Regulus is still in his evening attire. He never got off. Regulus was used to this, for their entire relationship had permanently been fixed on Barty’s pleasure. Regulus was there to get him off. Regulus was there to look good for him so he could get off. That was how the system had worked. Regulus never minded it, not caring about being touched much anyway. Being sexually abused will do that to a person, he’d think to himself whenever Barty would ask him when he became such a prude. Soon enough, Barty is sleeping soundly next to him. The comforter rose slowly with his breath. Regulus can’t sleep; he doesn’t want to sleep around his ex-boyfriend. Or are they back together again? Regulus doesn’t know. He never has known; his relationship with Barty was always on Crouch’s terms if Barty had met another boy (or girl) he wanted that week. He’d toss Regulus aside until he had used the other person to his liking. 

“You’re so good, Regulus when you do what I want. You’ve gained weight since the last time I’ve touched you. Work on that.” Barty mumbles sleepily. Thanks? Regulus says in his head past insecurities finding their way to the surface. Throughout their friendship and… relationship? (If you could call it that.) Barty had obviously controlled every aspect of Regulus’s life. This included who he hung out with, what he did with his free time, and what he ate. Which when he and Barty were together, was next to nothing. Regulus made a mental note of this and decided to dwell later. For now, the storm was over. And he was too fucking tired to kick Barty out. So he climbed out of bed and made camp out in the living room, a small butter knife clutched close to his chest as he was swept away into a dreamless, empty sleep. 

The sun shone through his broken blinds. It was far too early for anybody to be awake. But Regulus would not let himself fall back asleep, especially with Crouch still in his house. He picked himself off the couch, making sure not to step on broken glass as he crept to his bedroom, creaking the door open, preparing for the worst, only to find the room deserted. Relief floods his lungs, and he can finally breathe again. He lets out a long sigh and almost smiles when he sees something move out of the corner of his eye. He turns quickly, his arms flying to cover his face. 

"Wow. Don't freak out, just me." Barty's voice fills his ears, and he opens his eyes to find the one and only. Regulus can no longer breathe. He feels like he's drowning. Why is he still here? Why couldn't lighting strike you or something? 

“Oh.” That is all Regulus musters to say back. 

“Oh? That’s all you have to say to me, pet?” Barty snorts and sips what Regulus hopes is coffee in the mug. 

“Good Morning,” Regulus replies, plastering a fake smile across his lips. He doesn’t deserve this. Regulus thinks. He doesn’t deserve to see me smile. 

“Good Morning indeed, Reg. What’s on our agenda today?” Crouch asks, plopping himself down on Regulus’s couch. Acting like the living room isn’t completely destroyed from his hissy fit the night before. 

“I thought I told you I didn’t want to do this anymore,” Regulus says, his heart sinking. Barty scrunches his face up like he has smelled something vile. 

“Do what?” 

Regulus sighed in frustration, knowing that this conversation would only lead to further arguing. But he’s done. No turning back now, he guesses. “This! I don’t want to play house anymore. Act like we aren’t toxic. Act like we don’t hate each other.” All his feelings resurface. He feels everything. Every little dig Barty has thrown at him over the years, he feels every single beating he’s ever taken, every person Barty has been unfaithful with. And he simply allows himself to fully feel the entire weight of the situation he got himself into. This isn’t healthy. He tells himself. But what is? Regulus is afraid he’ll never know. 

“Hate each other? When did we decide we hated each other? I wasn’t aware of that shift.” Barty dares to say, crossing his arms over his chest. He sets the mug down on the coffee table and Regulus can see there isn’t coffee in it. Coffee isn’t clear, and he knows Barty isn’t drinking water. 

“You showed me where you stand in this relationship long ago, Barty.” Regulus has no words. His mind has gone foggy again. He shoves his emotions back under the rug, where they will stay if he has enough control. His mother always used to tell him to control his emotions better. She used to say to him that hisheartcontrolledhislife. This wasn’t a good thing to Walpurga Black. She thought it made Regulus weak. So, as he grew older, he had learned to keep such emotions under wraps. But sometimes Barty had just pushed too far, snapped all his restraints, and he would cry. He would sob and look for comfort from his lover, only to be further shamed and pushed away. Regulus learned he wasn’t worthy of feeling emotions. Somebody out there always has it worse, Regulus. Was another common saying from his mother. 

“Don’t pull that shit Regulus, I apologized,” Barty said, and Regulus wanted to scream at him. He wanted to yell and scream and push him, shove him to the ground. He wanted to pound his stupid face in. Regulus wanted to stomp on him, shove a boot in his face, and kick until he was lying there limp and lifeless. Maybe this wasn’t the healthiest thought, but Regulus thought it was valid. 

“Barty, I don’t have time for this anymore.” That was a lie. Regulus did have the time for pointless arguments and lazing around all day. But he’d rather not let Barty know that he wasn’t currently working towards a goal of any kind and usually spent most days in bed, not even bothering to get up. 

“What’s that supposed to mean? Are you breaking up with me, Regulus?” Barty asked. Regulus felt like he was walking in circles. He kept having to have the same conversation with Barty repeatedly. Regulus dragged his hands through his thick, black hair. Contemplating on pulling it all out just to feel something other than anger. 

“I am sick of having to have the same fucking conversation over and over again!” He screamed, his self-restraint slowly vanishing as he spoke to Barty, who still didn’t seem to understand. “We already are broken up!” 

Barty flinches like he’s wounded. And Regulus almost laughs. “Fine then.” Barty shrugs, and Regulus is only a little surprised. Crouch picks himself off the couch, not bothering to pick up his mug. And he starts to make his way to the front door. “If you wanna be a fucking pussy and don’t wanna work through things like a normal fucking person, that’s on you, Black.” Barty slurs. His eyes are cold, and his words are daggers.

This time, Regulus does laugh. He folds over laughing; it shakes his body, rattles his bones, and reverberates through his skull, the idiotic words that were just spoken. Barty just looks at him, his face full of surprise. “I have been working through things, I worked through things with you for 15 fucking years! Since we were ten years old, I’ve helped you work through your issues. For 15 years, I have taken beating after beating because of mistakes you made.” Regulus says this all while tears clump in his eyelashes. Partially from laughter and partially because it’s all true. He would wish his life on nobody. “So I’m sorry if I’m not utterly devastated that you are leaving again! Because you’ll be back, you always come back!” 

Barty hisses through his teeth. “You’re nothing without me, Regulus, you know that. You’re fucking nothing without me! But a used up, beat up, anorexic slut.” Barty throws Regulus’s front door open, “and that’s all you’ll ever be. Because it’s all you’ve ever known.” And he leaves. Regulus should feel some sort of relief that Barty has left. A weight that’s been on his shoulders for years still can’t seem to fuck off. He tries to ignore the words floating around his head. Used up, beat up, anorexic slut. Was he right? Is that what Regulus had become? He put his hands up in front of his face. His eyes traced down his slender fingers, gold rings scattered around each finger. Blue veins crawled up his hands and wrists. Wrists that looked so breakable, just touching them would make them shatter. This was Barty’s doing. No. This was his own doing. He had allowed himself to be manipulated for years. He let Barty treat him like shit and never once tried to fight back. Regulus saw himself for what he believed he was. Beat up, used up, anorexic slut. 

The tears fell on their own. Regulus doesn’t remember when he started crying that night, but he does know it felt like it would never stop. Regulus sat on the bathroom floor, a small razor held in his hands. His fingers fumbled around with it. He was given two roads to choose from. He could take his steps toward a happier life, finally freed from the chains of his abusive ex-lover. Or, he could fall back to where he was before. Both options were charming. They seduced him in their own ways. Ultimately, Regulus had made his choice. He knew what to do, so he picked up the razor from beside him. And right when he was about to throw the razor blade away, he smelt the smoke. 

"What the fuck.' He mumbled, dropping the razor from his hands and looking out his window to find the smell's origin. He gazed out his bathroom window, and there he saw the side of his house on fire. And a small black hooded figure running away from the flames. Barty had set his fucking house on fire. 

Smoke fills the living room as Regulus stumbles through the tiny house. Fumes filled his lungs, and he couldn’t breathe.

"Fuck!" He yelled, tripping over something on the floor, sending Regulus to fall on his face. He has no choice but to pick himself back up, the flames roaring around him. He's fucking crazy! Regulus decided, although he already knew Barty was nuts. This confirmed his thoughts. Regulus pulls himself back to his feet. He tastes blood in his mouth but ignores this as he tries to find a way around the flames taking up his whole house. But there's too much. Too many flames. Too much heat. Too much pressure to keep going. I'm sorry. All Regulus can think of as he feels hot flames take his body. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. He isn't sure who he's apologizing to, his parents? If only he were a better son, he wouldn't be here in this situation. His brother? Why could he be strong like Sirius? Barty? Part of him feels guilty for giving up on Crouch. Himself? Hardly. Regulus firmly believes he deserves everything that comes to him. Regulus's eyes are watering, mainly from the fumes but partially because he's accepting this is it. This is how he'll die at the hands of Barty. Alone. Just as he always had been. The last thing Regulus remembers seeing is a broken picture frame taken years ago. He's on Sirius's back, and they look happy. Happy. Regulus thinks it's such a foreign idea. He thinks maybe he could've been happy if he had taken the chances he was always too afraid to reach for. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispers, closing his eyes for what he hopes will be the last time. Alone.