You can let it go
Post-date blues led to Barty wrapped in Regulus’ arms spilling out secrets that made his stomach hurt. He knew Regulus would never judge him for going back. He was one of the only people who knew how scary leaving could be.
When you grow up in an abusive house you eventually get used to it. You find normalcy in the everyday routine of struggling. You learn when to nod and shake your head, how to hide things that shouldn’t be found, how to make people proud enough that they leave you alone. You learn how to survive. And maybe you won’t even realise what's going on. You’ll mention something in passing to your friends and be faced with concerned looks and quiet whispers of ‘are you okay’. And you’ll say you’re fine. Because it had to be normal. Because it’s easier to tell yourself that it was normal than it is to accept that you didn’t deserve it.
Then one day you’ll leave that house and realise just how different the world outside of it is. You’ll look around and see that no one else is just surviving. So you’ll hunt down the familiar. You’ll find someone who makes you feel like you never left. And if you shut your eyes just tight enough, the bruises can feel just like love. When that stops working you’ll look for other ways to punish yourself, like hookups and designer drugs. You’ll treat the high like your new lover until it wears off. And then you’ll realise that no matter what you do, you still hate yourself. The burdens of your childhood are so woven into your skin that when removed you come apart like stitches.
But finally you’ll find someone who doesn’t recoil when they see the bruises, who doesn't promise an end all cure. You’ll find someone who sees you, who sees all the cracks and flaws and little specks of light. And they will hold you in their arms and very softly whisper ‘I won’t hurt you, you’re not alone anymore’. And it will be a promise.
And that person had been Evan. And now Barty was so close to being able to keep him. He couldn't fuck this up again. But he had to go back to his dad.
“I pity my body for ending up with my mind, y'know? I feel so guilty towards who I was as a kid and how much I fucked us up. I really ruined everything.”
“Not everything.” Regulus hummed softly, brushing his hand through Bartys hair, bringing it out of his eyes. Regulus had never been the best at comforting people. He had been raised to never show emotion. But he could always tell what Barty needed. And a bottle loosened lips no problem. “You have Evan now, you have me. We love you Barty, even if you’re too thick headed to see it sometimes.”
“Cheesy bastard.” He grinned, bringing cold glass to his lips and swallowed back liquor like medicine.
“Tell anyone and I’ll stab you.”
“I’m sure you will.” He grinned, passing the bottle back to Regulus. “I’m glad things went well with you and sunshine. It’s nice seeing you so happy.”
“Now who’s cheesy?”
“Never denied it, did I Arcturus?” He stuck his tongue out, making Regulus flick him in the side of the head. “Ow you whore! Anyways, that's two out of three pairs of homos who had worked through their shit.” Shit. He hadn’t meant to say that.
“What? Who are the other two?” Regulus raised a brow sceptically, pulling the bottle away from his face.
“Nothing. It doesn’t matter Reg.”
“Barty. Tell me or you’re sleeping on the doorstep.”
Well that wasn’t very fair was it? “You can’t get mad, okay? Um, Remus and your brother.”
“Oh.” Regulus looked down, chewing on his lower lip. “I thought Sirius would have told me if he was gay.”
“I don’t think he really realises it. You know how he can be.”
He let out a weak laugh. “Yeah. Just like you, huh? How’s Remus doing then?”
Barty smiled. “Powering through. He really loves him though.”
“Remus could do better.”
He laughed softly, eyes crinkling. “You’re my best friend, Regulus.”
“Kill yourself.”
“Will do.” Regulus shoved him to the side. He was so fucking happy in that moment. And then of course, he had to remember. “I’m seeing my father soon.”
Regulus tensed, looking over at his friend. “You’re really gonna go?”
“I have to.”
He gave Barty a sympathetic frown, eyes fixed on the floor. “Do you though?” And Barty could only nod. “You know I’ll support whatever you choose to do, but it's obvious he's just hurting you more.”
“He’s family.” Is all that Barty could muster.
“Family doesn’t do that to you. All you share is blood.” And he knew Regulus was speaking from experience. And maybe that's why it hurt so much. Maybe that's why Barty didn’t try and find any more excuses.
He just turned to Regulus with a desperate look, and in the quietest voice possible he asked, “Will you drive me?”. And of course Regulus would. He would do anything for Barty.
“Yeah. Of course I’ll drive you Barty.”
“Hey Regulus?” The boy turned to him, brow furrowed. “What was it like, leaving?”
There was a moment's silence before Regulus took a deep inhale and began to talk. And as he spoke Barty sat and listened in as if it was some sort of instructions, as if he was searching for an answer between the words.
“It was scary. Really fucking scary. I kept questioning if I had made the right choice. And for a while some part of me missed them. Because of course they were shitty and everything, but they were still family, right? And I missed that. But then again, I had Sirius. And he had been ready to leave for a lot longer than I had. And then I had the Potters and I learnt that my parents had never really been family. They had given birth to me and raised me but I don’t think they ever really liked me. And slowly I became happier. And I realised that you don’t need to live scared all the time. It gets easier after a while.”
He nodded along, absorbing each word like the gospel. He got that. Because Barty had never felt this fucking scared. No amount of threats of beatings instilled as much dread as the idea of leaving. And that fact just made him a bit sad really.
“Well what if I don’t have a Sirius, Reg? I’m alone in this. And I don’t know if I can do it.” He hated feeling weak. He hated people seeing him like this. But of course Regulus would always be different.
“You have me.” Yeah. That's true. “You have Evan, and Pandora, and Dorcas, and Remus, all of us. We all care about you, Barty. A lot.”
“It really scares me when you get all sappy y’know?” He teased, flashing his teeth. If he smiled and laughed at all the right times he could pretend he didn’t feel sick to his stomach. Fuck, Barty really hated being scared.
The days building up to the visit were no better. Anxiety built somewhere deep in his gut, festering into an ugly shape that he tried his best to call a friend. His appetite waned and his sleep lessened. He felt dead. Dead and trapped inside of his body. And slowly he stopped messaging people. Minutes to reply turned to hours and slowly the notifications stopped. No one wanted to bother him. But God did he need to be bothered. He needed someone to notice, someone to help him fix this.
Regulus brought him food and tried to clean his room some days. Every once in a while James would stop by. Evan stopped by once but Barty had been asleep. Regulus had just passed along a message that they should meet up again soon.
There's a moment where you realise you’re sick, but not really able to do anything about it. Barty knew this wasn’t normal. He had experienced this so many times before. And he knew it was only going to get worse from here. He was depressed. And he didn’t want to eat, or move, or do much of anything really. Just sleep. Sleep was good. It didn’t hurt as much as everything else.
If Barty could describe how he felt, he would compare it to a slow sort of rot. It's sombre and unforgiving and more of a chore than anything else. His mania felt the opposite, an unnatural glow in his eyes. It felt like he was having every possible thought all at once and lacked whatever part of his head was supposed to tell you when things were a bad idea.
The worst part of this all was that he had medication. He had a way to treat this and make it more bearable. But he fucking hated it. It made his head all foggy and he just didn’t feel like himself. So he would stop taking it, and then he would get worse. And he would just have to pretend everything was okay, even when he felt like dying.
“Barty? I’m so sorry to wake you, but your dad’s on the phone.” Regulus came into the room with a worried expression, sitting down on the end of the bed. He passed Barty the phone, who took it with steady hands and a stoic look. “I’ll leave you be.”
“Dad?” He kept his voice stable. Part of this whole surviving thing was the numbness. His tone had no emotion, no weakness.
“Bartemius. I’m expecting to see you soon, yes?” He flinched internally at the harsh voice.
“I am. My friend is driving me tomorrow morning.”
“Friend? Which friend? It better not be that fa-”
He cut his father off quickly. “Regulus. Regulus is driving me.”
“Oh. At least he’s more respectable. We have a lot to talk about, Bartemius. I expect you to be prepared.” He sucked in a breath before humming in reply. “Use your words. I raised you better than that.” He bit down on his tongue.
“Of course, father.” He kept his breathing slow. If he held his breath he could hold back words that would surely get him in trouble.
“In that case I’ll see you tomorrow. Good bye, Bartemius.”
“Good bye, father.” The phone beeped when his dad hung up, and Regulus miraculously opened the door right in time. He snatched the phone from Barty and sat down next to him, drawing comforting circles on his back.
“It’ll be okay, yeah? You can call me and I can come pick you up right away if you need. I know I can’t talk you out of going tomorrow, but if you want to we can never ever go back there again after. He doesn’t deserve you, Barty.”
“I know, Reg. I know. Let’s just not talk about it, please? Can you just stay here for a bit.”
“I can. Yeah, I can.”
Barty woke up with Regulus’ arms around him the next morning. It should have been peaceful but his stomach was filled with such intense nausea that he had to sprint to the bathroom to throw up into the toilet. He needed to cry, but he would never let himself. Instead he just went back to his room and pulled a backpack out of the back of his closet and began shoving random things he deemed useful into it. Cigarettes, gauze, antiseptic, pens, his sketchbook. Things that were necessary for surviving that house.
The car ride was long and slow. Barty didn’t mind that. He would have happily driven for hours with no destination in mind if it meant avoiding his father. But he was still too scared to leave. Too scared to run. Isn’t that funny? Isn’t the saying ‘fight or flight’? But Barty couldn’t do either. He couldn’t fight back, and he was even too scared to turn tail and leave. He just stood still and took each hit, pretending he didn’t mind how it hurt.
“Stay safe, Barty. Text me if you need anything.” Regulus hugged him extra tight before driving away. And with a deep breath,
Barty rang the doorbell.