Poured my heart out, spilt all my truth
Barty was an unhappy person. That's how it was and how it would always be. Just like how every relationship he’s ever in is doomed for some sort of unhappiness. Maybe that wasn’t how it had always been, but it was now. When he woke up he carried the weight of every promise he had ever broken. He put on a subpar outfit and left the house. That was one thing Barty was good at at least. He didn’t like staying still,never in one place for too long. Barty was out day and night, learning stories of strangers that he would people watch or getting drunk with whatever pretty girl looked at him twice. When he was at home, he would try his best to shut off his brain. Every time he let his thoughts wander he was met with images of blonde hair curled around his fingers, a hand tracing up his back, and the taste of tar on the backs of someone's teeth.
So yeah, Barty avoided the house. It’s not like it was even really his house. He had left that god forsaken flat when everything blew up. He lived with Regulus now, and every day he felt more and more grateful for the boy. Regulus let him keep his secrets, that's really all he needed.
He had been thriving– okay fine, living somewhat well, with this schedule. Of course Evan had to go and fuck it all up. He had been having a perfectly normal night. He was at his favourite bar, the only one where the bartender knew how to make a decent paloma. Maybe you wouldn’t imagine someone who looks like Barty to enjoy a fruity drink but we can’t really help our personal tastes. Anyways, he was watching as Remus mixed up the drink, holding eye contact the whole time. Remus always puts on a little show for him. Barty thought it was because he had helped the man with his sub-par flirting skills a few times, maybe also that he lived with the brother of Remus’ ‘best friend’. Barty had a feeling there's was more between those two, but he was in no position to call them out on keeping it a secret.
But then his phone starting ringing. If only he had left it one do not disturb for once on his life. Maybe the night wouldn’t have been ruined. He looked at the caller ID. ‘Evan Rosier🌹’. The full name tasted bitter in his mouth, a leftover memory of the nicknames they used to share. But he couldn’t even keep Evan’s old contact. Every trace of the boy was gone from his life, every mark gone from his skin.
He answers, whispering softly, ‘Evan?’ A plea, or a prayer maybe, that something would happen. That he’d have a chance to talk. At the same time, there was a weight in his chest, a longing to hang up and throw his phone at a wall.
He heard the beep. Evan actually fucking hung up on him. Maybe it had been an accident. Barty wasn’t sure if he would have preferred that or not.
“I’m gonna head out now Remus, close my tab?” Remus nodded, charging him before passing the card back.
“Stay safe, Barty.” Remus smiled as Barty left.
“I always am.”
That one fucking night and everything Barty had been struggling so hard to fight against was coming back at him. And then he had to go and invite Evan to that god damn party.
It had been about a week since that incident, a week until the party. He flinched every time his phone rang, scared that he would see that name when he looked. It was never Evan, it was always just Regulus, or Dorcas, or his father. This time it was the latter.
“Dad.” He spoke, voice clear. He fixed his posture, as if his father could see him through the phone.
“Bartemius, I wanted to make sure you were still set to visit home soon? Your mother and I wanted to speak to you about something.”
He knew better than to object by now. “Yes father. Like I said I’ll join you for Christmas.”
“I meant before that. This is important, don’t disappoint me.”
He bit his tongue to stop himself from audibly sighing. “I can make it down there in early November? Just under a month?”
He could almost hear his father stiffening, his voice going rigid. “That’ll do. Goodbye Barty.”
“Yeah, bye dad.”
“And Barty? Remember our promise.”
He hung up, groaning and falling back onto the couch. Fuck the promises, fuck the visits, fuck the ‘important conversations’. He bit his lip, tasting a faint bit of blood before wincing and rolling onto his stomach. Everything felt boring. Maybe time for another hook up? Yeah, that’s probably all he needed.
He had avoided the bar for a week after the call with Evan, it was probably time to brave it again yeah? He ubered there with no intentions other than to find a girl who was willing to sleep with him and get as wasted as possible.
Upon entry, Remus gave him a knowing glance. He could read Barty like a book. Their friendship wasn’t like how Barty was with Regulus. Regulus was like a brother to him, but you don’t tell your brother everything. Remus was different. He could quite literally tell Remus everything without worry of being judged. Remus just stood and listened and mixed drinks, occasionally offering a nod or half smile.
He found himself drunkenly flirting with a girl and sharing one of her smokes. They weren’t his usual brand but he was too wasted to care. The night ended with him on the floor of her bedroom. It was nothing special, not bad by any means but he knew there had to be more. No matter how many nights he spent with strangers from the bar he could only think of one person. Other people were pretty, they could be good in bed, they could be funny, but no one would ever measure up to Evan. No one could love Barty like Evan could.
In the morning he slipped out of the girl's bed before she woke up, completing the walk of shame with an awful hangover headache. He had some unread texts from Remus that he knew he had to check.
the hot bartender
Hi Crouch
Checking to make sure you didn’t get murdered.
Not that I’d care.
Barty
saf and suond 🫡🫡
thansk for the check in rem
the hot bartender
Np mate
Btw who was that bloke who called you the other night?
You seemed shaken.
Barty
idk how to explain it
hes my sirius
the hot bartender
Oh
Yeah I guess that makes sense.
Barty knew there were some things that Remus didn’t tell him about Sirius, bedsheet secrets. Barty was all too familiar with those and he knew better than to pry. Sometimes people just weren’t ready to share parts of themselves with the world.
He made it home. Three days till that party, three days before he would be forced into shallow conversation and party ‘games’ with the man he used to think would be his forever. So, he did what he used to do for comfort, before the alcohol and girls and all that. Barty took out the long-forgotten sketch pad on his dishearteningly empty bookshelf. He found a loose pencil and opened to the first blank page he could find. When he started he had no idea of where exactly he was going with the sketch, but slowly shapes filled out. But no- it was all wrong. That hair was just a bit too loose and the eyes missing some sort of defining trait that you wouldn’t be able to see in a person until you had learnt the reasons for their stupidest fears. He looked at the finished piece with a sort of disgust. It was obviously Evan, with the same smile and skin and God- Barty really wasn’t over him was he?
Barty was no stranger to drawing Evan. He used to have a sketch book filled with only the boy. That book was long gone now, burnt in a fire with all the photos Barty used to possess. He flipped through his current book, examining sketches of Regulus sat on the couch reading a book, another one showed Remus mixing some sort of drink. He had even gone as far as to draw the cloth Remus carried on his shoulder and the pen he kept in his pocket.
Because Barty loves this. He loved being able to create. He loved seeing the finished product and knowing his own hands, the same ones that had done so much he wasn’t proud of, could create something beautiful. Even when that beauty showed bits of his soul that he himself wasn’t quite aware of.
“This is really beautiful, Barty. Why don’t you ever show anyone?” Evan whispered, eyes locked on the book.
Barty swallowed his breath, staring at Evan with nothing short of love. “I just trust you more, Evs.”
He closed his eyes tight and shoved the book back onto its shelf. He made his way to the bathroom and popped an ibuprofen in hopes it would cure his headache and let him actually get some sleep.
It worked, sort of. Barty found himself asleep, though it was restless and plagued with dreams, no, memories. A dream implies it doesn’t exist. This was once real, this is his own brain torturing him.
His head rested on Evan’s shoulder, both boys sat on the edge of the bed. It was the start of 7th year, one year till they graduated. Things were good. Evan flipped through the sketchbook, smiling at some pages and grimacing at others. Finally he focused on one.
“It looks a bit sad, no?” Barty could feel the vibrations of his voice as he spoke.
“It’s about love.” Love wasn’t sad, love was good.
“Bats, is this how love feels with me?” Barty thought for a moment before shaking his head no. “Is this how love feels at home?” More thinking, he nodded this time. Evan frowned, kissing the top of Barty’s head and not saying a word. Barty knew what it meant, he wasn’t stupid.
It’s not like Barty’s family had never loved him, it was just that there were sometimes priorities that came before loving their child. Raising him to be good enough was more important. But maybe conditional love isn’t really love at all. It’s expectations dressed up as caring. As long as Barty fulfilled their wishes, he could be their son.
He woke up at 1 am the next day, realising he had slept through the whole day. Even closer to the party, even closer to Evan. He was running low on coping mechanisms.
Barty stumbled down the stairs, fully aware that he might wake Regulus. He didn’t care all that much. He put on a song, humming along to the rhythm.
This city depresses me
But you try to be everything I need
He turned on the stove and put a pot of water on to boil. 1:00am soup sounded like what he needed.
We sat on the corner kissing each other
Felt like I could finally see in colour
When the chorus started, his humming turned into tapping on the counter top. There was something weirdly autonomous about this moment.
I was eighteen when I met you
Poured my heart out, spilt all my truth
I finally felt like I could feel for the first time
When I met you
He mixed the powder with the boiling water, hand tapping anxiously on the countertop as the song came to an end. He began pouring his concoction into a boil when hot water splashed and scalded his hand. “Fuck- Ow?” He was quick to put the burnt skin to his mouth, squeezing his eyes. He almost didn’t notice the footsteps coming down the stairs.
“Bartemius Crouch Jr., you better have an amazing reason for waking me up or I swear to bloody God I will kill you.” Regulus huffed, flopping down on the couch and wrapping himself in a blanket. “Genuinly kill yourself.”
Barty laughed. “Want soup?”
There was no answer for a while. “Yeah.” Barty used the extra water for Regulus’ soup before sitting down on the couch next to him, letting the boy rest his legs on Barty’s lap. “So what is it this time Crouch? Couldn’t sleep?”
Barty huffed, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, something like that.” Regulus frowned but didn’t push. Barty silently thanked him for it. The two just sat and ate their soup and pretended that everything was perfectly okay. And then Regulus went back to bed, and Barty was alone. His phone buzzed. Three words.
Evan Rosier🌹
I miss you
drunj too muhc
lmao
Barty sighed and left Evan on delivered, pretending the first message hadn’t made his chest flutter with hope. He pretended it didn’t break him to see it was a little drunken slip up.