I stare at the crash, it actually works
Barty had been more or less absent since their date and Evan didn’t know whether to feel worried or hurt or both. He hated this silence, hated how none of his messages were even read, how none of his friends knew what was going on, how even Regulus couldn’t answer his questions.
He was prepared to storm out of the house and grab Barty by the collar of his shirt like in those exaggerated cartoons you watch as a kid and berate him for leaving Evan so alone. Matter of fact he was getting his shoes on when he got the text.
Reginald👨❤️💋👨👨❤️💋👨
Barty’s at his dads
Let me know if he texts you?
Please
What? And Barty hadn’t told him? Why wouldn’t he tell him about this? Especially after last time. Thoughts of what had happened before were spiralling in his mind. The quiet, the avoidance, it made him ill.
Evan
Of course
Thanks for telling me
He put his phone down and took his shoes off and pretended like his heart wasn’t in the process of breaking. Evan fell against the couch like a shot man and squeezed his eyes shut extra hard, trying to think of anything but Barty.
“What do you think happens when you die?” His voice was barely a whisper against Evans clavicle, bodies pressed together and over heated under layers of blanket. The steady weight of Barty pinning him against the bed. Before replying he would breathe in slowly and smell Barty’s strawberry shampoo. He would let the question rattle about somewhere in his chest before it rooted itself in his soul. It was part of him by the time he found an answer.
“I don't know. Where do you want to go?” He regretted the question as soon as it left his lips. He knew Barty would ask him the same verbatim. He knew he would have to answer. And how was Evan to tell Barty that he would stay right here? No matter the offers of money or travel or fame, he would stay here with Barty in his arms. The tragedy of a friendship tainted with unrequited romance.
“Somewhere warm. Somewhere far from home.” He drank it in. This was not love like the story books but something akin to religion. Evan would spend his nights getting high on the hesitant touches of Barty. Finding a buzz from each and every time Barty called him a friend. Never more than friends. It was self-harm almost. “Where would you go?”
“I don’t know, Barty.”
“I like when you say my name.” And oh, if Evan’s heart could speak it would have let out some sort of pathetic whine. A sad thing it was really, so desperately mad over someone who was in love with noone but the idea of an escape. “You make it sound lovely.”
“It is lovely.” He doesn’t really mean to say it. It was not a lie, far from it, but it feels like a secret he was supposed to keep. He felt like he was betraying himself by talking.
“No. It’s not, Ev.” He could feel Barty’s frown against his neck, though he couldn’t see the boy's face. “It’s always been my fathers name. He just decided to put it on my shoulders next.”
“He’s not Barty.” He heard a laugh. A weak one, but a laugh nonetheless. “I’m serious! He’s just- I don’t know what he is, but he’s not Barty. Because the Barty I know is cool and funny and smart and so so good when he tries to be. And he’s nothing like his father.”
“You’re my best friend, Evan. Really, you are.”
It was hard to pretend that it didn't feel like a knife wound. “You’re mine too, Barty.”
And when one memory ended another one would begin. They say your life flashes before your eyes when you die, and Evan was certain that some deep down part of him was dying at that moment. It was cold and shivering and needed help but Evan didn’t have the heart to tell anyone else. So he let that part of himself bathe in the ice water and drown, and one day it would wash up on shore and he would realise this was really just suicide. The ache he gave up healing was his first step in killing himself.
“Our home. I can’t believe I finally get to call it that.” Evan felt that familiar burn at the back of his throat, but he wasn’t going to let himself cry. Even if this time it was happy tears.
“All ours, Rosie.” Barty whispered back. “And we don’t need to hide to kiss anymore.” Evan wanted to tell him they had never needed to hide. That Evan wanted nothing more than to be loved out loud. But he knew Barty couldn’t offer that. He knew it would just be cruel to ask.
“We should decorate.” Anything to get his mind off of himself.
Barty nodded quickly, and oh Evan loved his smile. He wanted to trace over it and print it inside of his eyelids so he could see it every time he closed his eyes. He wanted to taste every inch of skin and worship that man. “Yes oh my God! Um well I think we should do themed rooms. We can have like bat decor, you know for me of course. And roses! It’s a bit cheesy I know but hear me out Evs.” Just hearing the excitement in Bartys voice made his heart jump.
“Yeah. That sounds nice Barty, that sounds really really nice.”
“I love you Evs.” It sounded so real. You really couldn’t blame Evan for thinking that it had really meant forever. Not when Barty was looking at him with those eyes, head tilted to the side and a dopey smile plastered to his face.
“I love you too. You’re my favourite person, Bats.”
His phone buzzed against the table and when he picked it up he found an onslaught of messages from Regulus.
Reginald 👨❤️💋👨👨❤️💋👨
He texted me
Somethings wrong
Evan I dont know what to do
He said not to pick him up
Fuck
Please respond
Call me
Evan fumbled the phone for a second before pressing the call button and holding his breath. He could basically taste his fear. It was sour on the back of his tongue.
“Evan? I’m panicking and I’m not sure what to do and I don’t know what happened-” Regulus’ voice was fast and breathy. Evan struggled to make out exactly what he was saying but what he could tell was that Regulus sounded really fucking scared.
“Hey- Hey, Reg, breathe okay? What did he say?”
“Um-” Evan thought Regulus might be crying, but he didn’t ask. “He just said that something happened and that I needed to not come get him. He said he would handle it himself.”
“Shit- What do you think I should do? Should I text him?” He dragged a hand over his face. His chest felt tight.
There was silence on the other end of the call until finally Regulus spoke. HIs voice sounded as fragile as a little kid who had just been shamed for something they didn’t yet understand. “I don’t know.”
“Regulus, go rest. I’ll let you know if he messages me. You do the same, yeah?”
“Of course. Thanks Ev. Stay safe.”
“You too.”
Evan wanted to scream. Why hadn’t Barty told him? Why had he been left in the dark about all of this? It wasn’t fair. Nothing was. Nothing had been for a long long time. Most nights Evan still dreamt of sirens.
Sirens. There was a ringing in his ears and a pounding at the bathroom door. He could hear Pandora crying. His hands were shaking causing the last few pills to rattle around. He was only 15. His parents hadn’t been home and so he had taken the letters out from between his record collection and laid them on the bed.
Everything had been lined up so perfectly. The bottle of his mothers antipsychotics had been left on the counter. He didn’t know how much he had to take so why not try all of them?
“Evan? Evan please get out of there. Please don’t do this. I need you- Please.” His sister's voice echoed. His muscles were tensing and his eyes were sealed shut.
His vision had begun to blur and he was certain this was how he would die. On the cold bathroom tile with his sister screaming from the other side of the door. Not a heroic death. Not even a lovely one. He didn’t die for any cause, Evan had never believed in anything strongly enough to die for it. And maybe that was the real tragedy. He was never even a full person. He had only really been breathing this last year. None of this had felt real. None of it had felt worth continuing. And he was so fucking tired.
He hadn’t learnt the full story of that night until about two years later, when the bruise no longer hurt to press on. Pandora had found the letters and ran to the bathroom. Evan had been found unconscious after an overdose induced seizure. He’d been driven to the hospital and his parents didn’t even take the time to stay with him. It was always Pandora. His better half.
He’d made her promise not to tell any of their friends and she’d made him promise that he would tell her if he started to ever feel that way again.
Things had been different since then. She watched him just a bit closer, held him just a bit tighter when they hugged. She was scared and Evan could tell. And it hurt to know that it was his fault she felt that way. But they had both kept their promises. At least that’s what he told himself.
He told himself the ache in his chest was normal, his oldest friend really. He told himself that he didn’t need help. That he wasn’t sick enough yet. That maybe if he waited just a bit longer someone would ask him if he was okay, and then he could say it all. He wasn’t keeping secrets. People just weren’t asking the right questions yet.
Bats 🦇
im cuming ober
im srory
so so sorry
He hadn’t been expecting texts, and for a moment he forgot how to move his hands. And even once he remembered they wouldn’t stop shaking and any message he tried to type out sounded like gibberish. Finally he settled on hearting Barty’s message and typing out a quick update to Regulus.
Evan
He’s coming to mine
Will update later
Reginald👨❤️💋👨👨❤️💋👨
Thank you
Take care of him Evan
He could taste his own panic. He couldn't move in fear he would fall, couldn’t breathe deeply in fear his lungs would explode. He just stood near the door like a dog waiting for its person to get home from work. Like this was a good thing.
But he was so desperate to just see Barty. Even if it meant kissing the bruises off, even if it meant cleaning the blood and helping him as he threw up into the toilet. It was all worth it to him. Did that make him a bad person? How his desperation for Barty surpassed any other thought in his vacant head? How his mouth was stained with Barty’s spit and he never wanted to taste anyone else? How he was just sitting there, not moving, hardly breathing, until someone knocked on the door. Until it all became real. Until he had no choice but to open it and be faced with whatever cursed thing waited for him.
With shaking hands he reached for the door knob, twisted, and pulled it towards himself. And oh, how his heart hurt. The cold metal burned into his skin but he could hardly feel anything now. Not with this in front of him.