Three Months Later
Three months later, the storm had finally settled. Barty, along with the others—Evan, Regulus, James, Sirius, Pandora, Lily, Mary, Marlene, and Dorcas—found themselves in a crowded pub, drinking to the pulse of rock music and cheering wildly for the spectacular ballet performance Pandora and Lily had just delivered.
When Evan’s sister announced she wanted them to meet someone special, Regulus and Barty had been caught completely off guard. That special someone turned out to be none other than Lily Evans—James’ ex.
By now, Regulus and James had been solid for two months. They had needed time to sort through the wreckage, to get to know each other again from scratch, without the weight of old wounds pressing between them. Seeing Lily again had been unexpected, but to Barty’s surprise, neither Regulus nor James had a meltdown over it. They handled it with a maturity that might’ve been impossible months ago. Maybe they had all grown up. Maybe high school dramas were exactly that—just high school dramas, meant to be left in the past.
Pandora, who had become something of a best friend to Barty, had shared the story of how she and Lily got together. It started as a deal—one where they pushed each other, training relentlessly, both determined to claim the lead role in the ballet performance. Ironically, neither of them got it in the end. The new girl, Trelawney, had swooped in and taken it, leaving them both to laugh at the absurdity of it all.
Still, something good had come out of it. A rivalry had turned into friendship, and friendship had turned into something more. They were still fierce competitors, still battling for the top spot at the ballet academy. The only difference now? They kissed in the in-betweens.
Barty no longer fought with Potter or Sirius, though the occasional bout of bickering still surfaced—soft-hearted insults thrown just for the sake of it, because, well, why not? Regulus, too, had found some semblance of peace with his brother. It had taken them years to get here, years of resentment, silence, and missed chances. Who would’ve thought that after all this time, they’d finally figure it out?
Ever since James Potter had walked into Regulus’ life at eleven, everything had shifted. Sirius had been swept up in James’ orbit, leaving Regulus behind in the shadows. But now, nearly a decade later, it felt as if Regulus belonged to them both just as much as they belonged to him. And he was happy.
Barty, for all his own chaos, was happy for him. Because even if he was dizzy and pathetically in love with Evan Rosier, seeing Regulus smile still felt like heaven.
As for the races? They had long been left in the rearview mirror—well, illegal racing had, at least. After winning the final race of the challenge, with Lupin trailing in second and Black in third, a scouting agency had reached out. A spot in the big leagues was his for the taking.
In five months, Barty wouldn’t just be racing for bet money—he’d be racing for real.
Things were good.
Really good.
He got a rose tattoo at the back of his neck, right where the medulla oblongata was located—an unspoken vow, a silent confession. As if to say he couldn’t live without Rosier. After all, if the medulla oblongata is damaged, death is inevitable.
Evan had declared his love for him right then and there, no hesitation, no second-guessing. And in that moment, Barty had asked him to be his boyfriend—to finally make it real. To leave behind the fleeting thrills, the meaningless hookups, the reckless self-destruction.
He wasn’t one for blind faith, but with all his might, he hoped that this—they—would be something that lasted.
Sometimes, it felt unreal how everything had settled in the end. His father had spent years convincing him he was worthless—rejecting him for nothing and everything, tearing him down just to inflate his own ego, leaving Barty to rot in the feeling of being unloved.
But his father could go fuck himself.
Because Barty was loved. He was successful. And in five months, he was going to be loaded. He had his guy, and he had an angel at his side. Safe to say, he was doing just fine.
The only thing missing was Evan’s comic—the one he had finally finished but still hadn’t dared to share with Barty. Maybe he was shy. Maybe he didn’t want anyone to see it.
But Barty wanted to see it. He’d ask about it when they got home.
For now, though, he had to deal with a sulking Sirius Black, who was nursing cheap beer at the bar like it was his only friend.
Barty slid into the seat next to him, sprawling his arms over the counter with casual ease. “What’s with the face? You look horrid. It’s making me feel handsome.”
Sirius scoffed, half-annoyed, half-amused. “Do you actually think I’m horrid? Like actually horrid?”
Barty raised an eyebrow. “You’re seriously asking me that?”
Sirius sighed, shaking his head as he took another sip of his beer. “Yeah, forget it…”
Barty leaned back, eyeing Sirius with mild amusement before shrugging. “I don’t think you’re horrid. Just annoying. Mostly because you’re the brother of the guy I loved.” He tilted his head. “This about Lupin again?”
Sirius exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair.
Barty already knew the answer. Sirius had been pining after Remus Lupin since the day they met, but Lupin was a tough nut to crack. He had a deep-seated grudge against rich people, and Sirius Black was the richest of them all. They had settled into something resembling friendship, but it wasn’t enough—not for Sirius.
Remus barely tolerated him. Or at least, that’s what he wanted everyone to believe. But Barty knew better. Regulus knew better. Lately, his best friend had been spending more time with Lupin, and according to Regulus, the guy couldn’t go five minutes without bringing up Sirius.
Sure, it was usually to insult him—grumbling about Sirius’ arrogance, his dramatics, his infuriating charm—but obsession was obsession, and Remus Lupin was obsessed.
“He drives me mad,” Sirius muttered, staring into his beer. “You know he still hates me? Even when we end up spending time together, he won’t cave.” He huffed a laugh, hollow and tired. “Maybe I am just a condescending rich asshole.”
“Yeah, you are,” Barty teased, swirling the drink in his hand. “But, uh… Lupin is downright obsessed with you.”
“Oh, yeah?” Sirius scoffed, dripping with sarcasm. “And what, exactly, makes you say that?”
Barty smirked, tilting his head toward the door. “Look who just walked in.”
Sirius’ gaze snapped up instantly, and the shift in his posture was almost comical. He stiffened, his fingers tightening around his glass as his eyes locked onto the figure stepping inside.
“What’s he doing here?” he asked, voice tinged with panic.
“Reggie invited him,” Barty said, far too pleased with himself. “Told him you wanted to see him.”
Sirius turned to him, scandalized. “What— Why the hell would he—”
“Oh, you know why,” Barty cut in, rolling his eyes. “Don’t be a wanker and just kiss him already. Look at him—he’s walking right over here with actual puppy dog eyes—”
“He does not—”
But before Sirius could finish, Barty was already slipping away, a smirk tugging at his lips as Remus slid into the seat next to Sirius.
“Hey,” Barty heard Remus say, his voice low, almost hesitant.
With a quiet chuckle, Barty left them to it, making a beeline for Evan.
Barty didn’t know if it was the alcohol, the music, or just Evan himself, but he was dancing—effortlessly, beautifully—and Barty’s heart stopped. It actually hurt to look at him, like staring too long at something that wasn’t meant to be touched. But he walked toward him anyway, because maybe he wanted to hurt over all that beauty.
“Bee!” Evan’s voice was bright as he caught Barty by the wrist, pulling him flush against him. “Panda was just telling me about how—wait… is that Lupin?” His eyes widened as he caught sight of something across the room. “Woah, woah—they’re kissing?”
“What?!” Regulus’ voice came out of nowhere, sharp with immediate disgust, despite being the one who had orchestrated the whole thing in the first place. “My brother is kissing? Ew, that’s horrid.”
James barked out a laugh, effortlessly slipping an arm around Regulus’ shoulders. “Well, then,” he murmured, smirking as he tilted Regulus’ chin up and pressed a distracting kiss to his lips, “guess I’ll have to make you forget all about it.”
Barty rolled his eyes, but he was far too focused on Evan to care about anything else.
“So anyway—Panda was telling me there’s going to be this big party back in France and—and—”
And then Barty was kissing him, cutting off whatever Evan had been about to say.
“Yes, I’ll go to France with you,” he murmured against his lips, breathless. “But you owe me a comic.”
“Right now?” Evan asked, a flicker of shyness in his eyes.
“Right now.”
Thirty minutes later, they were in Evan’s bedroom, and Barty was holding the comic in his hands. He took his time reading through it, absorbing every panel, every carefully drawn line, every word. And when he reached the final page, he couldn’t quite believe it.
Evan Rosier was brilliant. And, more importantly, the entire story was about him.
Barty had only been joking when he told Evan he should write about him. He wasn’t someone worth writing about—at least, that’s what he had always believed. But Evan had done it anyway.
The comic painted him as strong, something he only ever pretended to be. Yet it didn’t stop there. It captured him in a way no one else ever had—strong but fragile, brave but terrified, chaotic and messy yet deeply, painfully human.
And somehow, even in a superhero comic, Evan had made him feel real.
Barty turned the comic over in his hands, his fingers tracing the cover with an almost hesitant reverence. The paper was slightly worn, as if Evan had flipped through it a hundred times before finally handing it over. His throat felt tight, but he forced out a small, teasing scoff.
"You really wrote about me, huh?" His voice was quieter than usual, lacking its usual cocky lilt.
Evan, sitting cross-legged on the bed beside him, simply shrugged. "I said I would."
Barty turned his head to look at him properly, searching his face for something—mockery, maybe. A smirk, a glint of mischief in his eyes, something to undercut the weight of it all. But Evan wasn’t smiling. There was no teasing in his expression, no sarcasm lingering at the corners of his lips. He just looked at him, as if waiting for Barty to understand before he even spoke another word.
"Why?" Barty asked, and though he meant it to sound nonchalant, it came out softer than intended.
Evan sighed, running a hand through his hair before resting his chin on his palm. “You know… meeting you made me realize something,” he said, his voice thoughtful, as though he was still piecing the words together even as he spoke them.
Barty shifted slightly, angling his body toward him, elbows on his knees, the comic still resting in his lap.
Evan continued, gaze dropping to the floor for a second before returning to Barty’s. “Whenever I wrote comics, I thought the main character had to be extraordinary. Because superheroes… they’re fiction, you know? They’re supposed to be larger than life. They defy logic, they do the impossible. They’re not supposed to be human.” He huffed out a small laugh, shaking his head. “But then I met you.”
Barty’s brow furrowed slightly, his fingers unconsciously tightening around the comic.
Evan exhaled slowly, his lips pressing together before he spoke again. “You gave me a whole new perspective. The characters in my stories—they reject the ordinary and embrace the extraordinary. But you…” He trailed off, his gaze settling on Barty with something almost like awe. “You told me I was human and I was enough, well the same goes for you. You live your life in a way that turns the ordinary into extraordinary.”
For a moment, Barty didn’t move. His heartbeat was suddenly loud in his ears, a steady thud-thud-thud that he could feel in his throat, his fingertips, his ribs.
Evan’s words settled over him like a weight—warm and unfamiliar and dangerous. Because what the hell was he supposed to do with something like that?
After a beat, he licked his lips, forced out a breath, and muttered, "That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard."
But his hands still clutched the comic like it was something fragile, something sacred.
And Evan just smiled.