Just A Coincidence

“Well, you look like shit,” Pandora quipped as she slid into the booth across from Evan.

“Geez, sis," Evan shot back, rubbing his eyes. "And you look sooo dazzling,” he added, lacing his words with sarcasm.

They were tucked into a small, cozy restaurant that specialized in breakfast, the kind of place where the coffee was strong and the eggs came with a side of grease. It was just past ten in the morning, and though Evan was glad to finally catch up with his sister before her day got too hectic, he could barely keep his eyes open from the sleepless night he'd dragged himself through.

Last night, after Barty had ditched him at the party, Evan saw no reason to stick around. Chasing after Barty was pointless; by now, he was probably holed up with that boy, Regulus, locked away in some bedroom doing God knows what. Evan had no interest in walking in on that scene, so he’d left without looking back.

He couldn’t quite pinpoint why he was so angry. Maybe it was the fact that Barty wasn’t at all what he had expected—and that was disappointing. When his grandfather spoke about Barty, Evan had pictured someone he could actually get along with. Someone intellectual, maybe even kind and thoughtful. After all, most people Evan knew in France had a certain refinement, an unspoken etiquette that governed their every move. Evan had grown accustomed to that world, its predictability, its polished manners. But Barty was a hurricane—wild, unpredictable, and chaotic—and Evan wasn’t used to that kind of storm.

London was going to be a challenge, no doubt about that. Even something as simple as getting to this restaurant had been a nightmare. The metro system worked well enough, but the sheer size of it was overwhelming—so many roads, so many people, all moving at breakneck speed. One wrong turn, and he could’ve easily ended up at the wrong station, lost in the chaos. It felt like navigating a maze, every street a potential misstep.

All in all, he was feeling a bit homesick. 

But he had to cheer up, right? That’s what Barty had told him, at least. It was only his second day here, and already writing off both London and his neighbor seemed a bit premature, maybe even rash. He couldn’t let his frustration settle in so quickly—not yet. There was still time for things to turn around.

Pandora pulled him out of his gloomy thoughts with a playful smirk. "I always look dazzling," she teased, flashing him a wide grin.

"Hm," Evan mused with a faint smile. "How's ballet?"

"It's... going," she said, her tone noticeably more subdued.

Evan's brow furrowed with concern. "What? Something happen?"

"No, nothing bad," she replied, waving her hand dismissively. But the way she bit her lip before continuing made it clear something was bothering her. "There's this girl... she's competing with me for the lead role, and honestly, it’s just messing with my head. I can’t focus like I should."

"Is she any good?" Evan asked, just as the waiter set down two cups of coffee and a pair of blueberry muffins on the table. The warm, sweet aroma hit him, and his stomach growled in response. Without hesitation, he tore into the muffin, grateful for the distraction.

"She's magnificent," Pandora said, her voice laced with frustration. "That’s the problem."

Evan paused mid-bite, raising an eyebrow. "Magnificent how?"

"She’s bold. And it’s like no matter how hard I push myself, she’s always one step ahead." Pandora’s fingers drummed anxiously on the table, her earlier confidence fading. “I´ve never been the bold type. But her? It makes her stand out.” 

"But you’re good," Evan said, leaning forward. "You’ve always been the best at ballet."

"Yes, but technique is only part of it," Pandora sighed, taking a thoughtful sip of her coffee. "It’s about more than just nailing the steps—it's attitude, identity, that something extra."

"Does that make sense?" she added, her eyes searching his face for understanding.

Evan nodded slowly, though a part of him still didn’t quite get it. "I mean, I get what you’re saying, but I’ve always thought you had that too. I’ve seen you dance. You make it look effortless."

Pandora gave him a small, grateful smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. "I do… but she has something else, something I haven’t quite figured out yet."

"Well, sis, you’re a Rosier," Evan said, flashing a mischievous grin. "Stand up for yourself. Turn her into mud."

Pandora let out a short laugh, shaking her head. "Turn her into mud? What are we, twelve?"

Evan shrugged, smirking as he took a bite of his muffin. "I’m serious. You’re a Rosier. You’ve got the name, the talent—use it. Show her she’s not even in your league."

Pandora rolled her eyes but couldn't hide the smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "You make it sound so easy."

"That’s because it is," Evan said confidently. "She’s just another obstacle. You’re Pandora Rosier. Act like it."

"Funny of you to say," Pandora mused, a sly smile creeping onto her face. "I know for a fact you still haven’t started your new comic."

Evan froze mid-bite, his eyes narrowing. Damn it, she got him.

"That’s different," he grumbled, shooting her a scowl.

Pandora chuckled, clearly enjoying the hypocrisy. "Oh really? How is it any different? Please, enlighten me."

"What I do..." Evan began, fumbling for an excuse. "It’s not like I’m competing against anyone. I’m just competing against myself."

Pandora raised an eyebrow, amused. "And that makes it better how, exactly?"

Evan sighed, leaning back in the booth. "Because if I fail, it’s on me. No one’s watching. No one’s judging. It’s just... personal."

Pandora took a sip of her coffee, shaking her head. "Evan, whether you're competing against yourself or someone else, it's still a challenge. Stop making excuses and start drawing."

Evan contemplated her words for a moment, then shrugged, a hint of frustration creeping in. “I don’t even know what to draw.”

“Just draw anything,” Pandora said, her exasperation evident.

“Did you know Stan Lee got the idea for Spider-Man because he saw a fly on the wall?” she pressed on, trying to inspire him.

“Of course I know that,” Evan shot back, quick to defend his pride. “What do you think I am, a noob?”

Pandora rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her smile. “Well, then. Get inspired! If a fly can spark a superhero, you can find your muse in anything.”

Evan sighed, staring down at his half-eaten muffin. “You make it sound so easy.”

“It is easy,” she insisted. “You just have to let go and create without overthinking it.”

Evan took a sip of his coffee, pondering her advice. Maybe she was right; maybe he just needed to start, even if he didn’t know where it would lead.

“Look, Ev,” she said, leaning forward. “The problem with you is that you think too much.”

“Think about soccer,” she began to say. 

“What about soccer?”

“Well, you used to play it,” she pointed out. “And what was always your problem?”

“That I was always one step behind,” Evan admitted, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice.

“Exactly! And do you know why?” Pandora asked, her eyes sparkling with the thrill of making a point. “It’s because you thought first and then reacted.”

Evan frowned, considering her words. “So what, I should just... not think at all?”

Pandora chuckled softly. “Not exactly. But in soccer, if you’re thinking before you move, you’ll always be too late. You see it. Think about it. Move. Right?”

“Right?” Evan replied, unsure of where this was heading.

“Most of the time, that approach worked for you when you first started soccer. But when you tried to score against stronger players on your team? That was a different story. You didn’t have the physical abilities to keep up. If you were processing things at their speed, you’d always be a step behind.”

“But there was nothing I could do—” Evan began, but she cut him off.

“Try thinking as a reflex,” she said, her voice firm.

And what did that even mean? Evan furrowed his brow, trying to wrap his mind around her advice. Reflexes didn’t require thought; they were instinctual. Could he apply that same principle to his art?

“Then why aren’t you applying that methodology?” Evan challenged, raising an eyebrow.

Pandora narrowed her eyes, considering his words. “I don’t know. I suppose I’m still a long way from my awakening.”

“But awakenings aren’t something you can just wait for,” Evan pressed on. “They happen when you least expect them. You’ve got to be in the zone, but you won’t even realize you’re there until it happens.”

“Exactly.” 

A proud grin spread across Evan's face. “I’ve really missed talking to you,” he said.

“I missed you too,” Pandora replied, “even if you do cut yourself short most of the time.”

“Cut myself short?” Evan shot back, mischief dancing in his eyes. “I’m literally way taller than you.”

“Oh, bugger off,” she retorted, though an amused smile tugged at her lips. “Are you going to tell me what kept you up last night?”

Evan let out a resigned sigh. “My neighbor,” he explained.

“Geez,” Pandora exclaimed, her eyes widening. “Not even two days in, and you’ve already slept with your neighbor?”

“What?! No, I—” Evan began to protest, his eyes going wide with disbelief. “I’m not banging my neighbor! Oh for fuck’s sake, Panda! Why do you have to be like this?” His cheeks flushed crimson.

Pandora couldn’t help but burst into laughter. “Geez, Ev, relax! I’m just teasing,” she said, her grin wide. “But your face is pretty red. You fancy him, don’t you?”

“No, I don’t—” he argued, the words coming out a bit too defensively.

“You don’t?” she challenged, leaning in with a mischievous smile.

“No!” Evan shot back, but his voice wavered. “He’s—” he hesitated, searching for the right words. “He’s an ass.”

“Rude and loud, obnoxious and inconsiderate!” he concluded, crossing his arms defiantly over his chest.

Pandora gave him a quizzical look. "What exactly happened last night?" she asked.

“Well, for starters,” Evan began, his frustration bubbling up as if he had been waiting to let it all out, “in the morning, he banged on my door like a lunatic. And when I told him to get lost, he literally shoved the door open and walked into my apartment like he owned the place! Can you believe that bollocks?"

Pandora raised an eyebrow, trying to stifle her amusement.

“So anyway,” Evan continued, rolling his eyes dramatically, “he only left after I told him my name, and then he told me his—as if I cared.” He sighed, exasperated.

Pandora couldn’t help but find the entire situation oddly entertaining, her grin widening.

“And then last night, when I’m obviously jet-lagged and hoping for some peace, especially with all the glowing reviews Grandpa gave me about this guy, you know what he does?” Evan threw his hands up in disbelief. “He throws a full-on rager. My walls were literally shaking from the volume. So, I get changed, march over there to confront him, and it’s chaos. Strangers everywhere, the corridor packed, smoke hanging in the air, booze spilled all over—chicks, guys, probably drugs too. I don’t care about the drugs, but seriously? First night and you do that to your new neighbor?”

It was all rather amusing, wasn't it? Pandora bit back a laugh, clearly entertained by his indignation.

“I’m practically shoving my way through this nightmare, people bumping into me, pulling me by the arm, and I finally find him. I start yelling to get his attention, but does he listen? No! He’s too busy making out with some guy! Music’s blasting so loud he couldn’t even hear me calling his name.” Evan let out a sharp breath. “So yeah, my first night here, and what do I see? My obnoxious neighbor locking lips with some guy in the middle of a damn house party. Have some decency, you know?”

"Well, whatever," Evan grumbled, waving his hand dismissively. "Thing is, I finally manage to get his attention, but then the guy he was kissing decided to butt in—like, clearly, the conversation wasn’t for him, right? So, long story short, I told the guy to get lost. And you know what my lovely neighbor did?" Evan's voice rose, still fuming. "He made me apologize. Me! As if I was the one causing all the noise and chaos!"

Pandora snorted, trying to suppress her laughter, but Evan pressed on, ignoring her amusement.

"Yeah, I apologized—because apparently, I’m the problem here—and then, what does he do? He hands me a cup of alcohol and starts dragging me around the party, going on and on about what I like to drink, like we’re suddenly best mates. And the whole time, he wouldn’t let me get a word in, not a single word," Evan said, exasperated. "It was as if he knew I came to complain, and he just wasn’t having it."

Meanwhile, his sister raised an eyebrow, fully invested in the absurdity of the story now.

"After who knows how long, he suddenly just offers me to stay—or not. Says he doesn’t care either way, but then adds that he’s in desperate need of some head, and there’s a ‘pretty boy’ waiting for him upstairs. So, he just leaves me there, stranded in the middle of his ridiculous party to go get his dick sucked! Can you believe that?!" Evan threw his hands up in frustration, his cheeks flushed red with indignation.

Pandora blinked at him, then burst into uncontrollable laughter.

"Why are you laughing?!" Evan demanded, his voice rising with disbelief.

Pandora wiped a tear from the corner of her eye, still giggling. "Ev, you definitely need a chill pill," she said, the words barely making it through her bubbling laughter.

"A chill pill?" Evan repeated, his lips dropping into a deep frown. "Panda, do you have any idea what my life is going to become if my neighbor pulls stunts like this every weekend?"

Pandora's laughter softened as she shook her head. "Look, I get it. But you’re acting like your whole world is ending because of one wild night. You’re new to the city, adjusting takes time."

Evan crossed his arms, still sulking. "Adjusting takes time? I won’t survive if my apartment turns into Party Central every weekend."

Pandora rolled her eyes with a playful grin. "You’re overthinking it, as usual. Maybe your neighbor was just testing you, seeing how far he could push. Or maybe he’s just a chaotic lunatic. Either way, you need to relax before you end up being that neighbor—the grumpy one who kills the vibe."

Evan scowled. "I don’t care about the vibe. I care about sleep."

"Look, you don’t actually know if he’s a raging party animal," Pandora pointed out, her tone shifting to something more reasonable. "It was probably a one-time thing. Maybe it was his birthday or something."

Evan shot her a skeptical glance. "Well…sure, maybe. But still!"

Pandora shrugged, taking a sip of her coffee. "You can’t just blacklist him after one night. You’ve barely been here two days."

Evan let out an exasperated sigh. "Maybe, but he broke into my apartment—who does that?"

Pandora smirked. "Okay, that’s definitely weird, but you have to admit, it’s a little funny."

"Not remotely," Evan deadpanned.

Pandora chuckled softly, shaking her head. "Fine, fine. But give him a chance. Who knows, maybe next weekend he'll invite you over for something chill, like a movie night."

Evan rolled his eyes. "Or maybe next weekend I'll be filing a noise complaint."

“Oh, Ev,” Pandora sighed, a playful smile dancing on her lips. “You’ve always been such a drama queen.”

Evan jerked his head back, eyes wide with indignation. “And you’re not?” he shot back, incredulous.

“I am,” Pandora admitted, chuckling through her grin. “After all, we are twins.”

“Just don’t let this guy get to you, alright?” Pandora urged, her tone serious. “Focus on your comic.”

“I wish I could,” Evan replied, frustration lacing his voice.

“It’s not a matter of wishing; it’s a matter of choosing.”

“Here we go with your riddles again,” Evan pointed out, rolling his eyes.

“It’s actually pretty straightforward,” she countered. “People make mistakes, but they also make choices. Letting a day go by without creating is a mistake—maybe even a week. But it’s been a year, Evan. That’s not a mistake; it’s a choice.”

Evan wasn’t in the mood to be called out, especially after the night he’d had. But he knew Pandora was right—she always was. He sighed, letting his thoughts drift through all the chances he’d had to sit down and start the comic, each one slipping away like sand through his fingers. It was a choice. He was continuously choosing not to create, held back by the fear that whatever he produced wouldn’t measure up to his own standards.

As he stared out the window, watching the clouds drift lazily by, Evan felt a heaviness settle in his chest. Each day that passed without him picking up a pencil or sketching a single panel felt like another opportunity lost—a reminder of his self-imposed limitations.

“What if it’s not good enough?” he muttered, almost to himself. “What if no one cares?”

Pandora leaned closer, her expression softening. “You’ll never know unless you try. What’s the worst that could happen? You create something you don’t like? You learn from it, and you move on.”

He shifted in his seat, irritation bubbling beneath the surface. “You make it sound so easy. You don’t understand the pressure I feel.”

“Pressure is just a part of it,” she countered. “You’ve got to turn it into motivation. The only real failure is not trying at all.”

Evan pinched the bridge of his nose, frustration mixing with the truth of her words. ““You don’t know what it’s like,” he sighed, the weight of his frustration palpable.

“Trust me, Ev,” Pandora replied gently. “I do know.”

“But I don’t let it stop me,” she continued, her voice steady. “Who cares? Whenever I’m on stage, everything could go wrong, but I trust myself. I know the technique. You do too.”

Evan looked at her, skepticism etched on his face. “It’s different for you. You thrive in that environment. I freeze.”

Pandora shook her head, her expression unwavering. “You think I don’t feel that pressure? Every time I step in front of an audience, there’s a part of me that’s terrified. But I push through it because I know it’s worth it. You have that same fire inside you; you just have to let it out.”

“Playing with fire is dangerous, sis,” he pointed out. “What if it burns?” 

“Then let it burn.” 

******

Evan would’ve preferred the stairs, but with his arms weighed down by more grocery bags than he could comfortably carry, the elevator was his only option. As the doors slid open, he was greeted by the last thing he wanted to see: his neighbor, Barty, shamelessly making out with the boy from last night—Regulus Black. Just put me out of my misery, Evan thought, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

He cleared his throat loudly to break up the scene. “Do you mind?” he asked, his voice sharp with irritation.

Regulus shot him a look of pure disdain, his dark eyes narrowed as though Evan had committed some heinous crime by interrupting. Barty, on the other hand, was clearly enjoying the moment. His lips curled into a smug smirk, even as they remained pressed against Regulus'.

After an awkward beat, Barty finally broke the silence. "Well, well, well…look who it is," he drawled, barely pulling away from Regulus. "Evan Rosier, in the flesh. Did you miss me already, or is this just a coincidence?"

Evan opened his mouth to respond, already on the defensive. “What—”

But just like yesterday, Barty cut him off mid-sentence. "Oh no," he said, shaking his head with mock sympathy. "This isn't about me, is it?" His fingers trailed teasingly along the back of Regulus' neck. "This is about him, right?"

Evan could practically feel his blood boiling. He wasn’t interested in Regulus. He wasn’t interested in Barty. This wasn’t some desperate attempt to see either of them. How was it his fault that they were the ones making out in the building's only elevator?!

“Oh, no offense, but—” Evan started, but once again, he was cut off. This time, it wasn’t Barty.

“Bee, I'm bored,” Regulus said flatly, his disinterest palpable.

Barty's attention snapped to Regulus in an instant, completely forgetting about Evan. “Are you, darling?” he asked, his voice taking on a soft, almost cooing tone. Without missing a beat, he leaned in closer to Regulus, pressing slow, deliberate kisses along his neck. “I’m sorry,” he murmured between kisses, “It’s all his fault,” he added, casting a fleeting glance in Evan’s direction, eyes glinting with mischief.

“What?!” Evan exclaimed, his mouth falling open in disbelief. “How the hell is it my fault that he’s bored?”

“Well, you are ruining the fun,” Barty explained with a smirk.

“It’s a Sunday night, you absolute crazy lunatics!” Evan snapped, his eyes wide with exasperation.

Regulus let out a low chuckle at this. “Hey, Bee,” he said, glancing at Barty with a mischievous glint in his eyes, “should we tell him that ‘crazy’ and ‘lunatic’ mean the same thing?”

Barty grinned, tilting his head slightly. “I think we should let him figure that out on his own, darling,” he teased, barely stifling a laugh.

Okay. Evan had definitely had enough.

"Are you two going to get out of the elevator or what?" he asked, his patience wearing thin. "Because either you get out, or I get in."

Regulus raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a smirk. “You’re too slow for that,” he said, his finger already pressing the button for the top floor.

Before Evan could even process what was happening, the doors slid shut with a quiet ding, and the elevator whisked them away, leaving him standing there, grocery bags in hand, feeling utterly defeated.

"Unbelievable," he muttered under his breath.