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Barty Crouch Jr. shouldn’t be nervous, but for some reason he is, as he makes his way down the street, hands lost in his pockets.

It rained earlier, leaving the street wet and the ends of Barty’s pants soaked and dirty. He’s aware he could’ve prevented this by simply lifting his pants, but the mental picture he has of himself looking like a princess tiptoeing down a flight of stairs isn’t really doing it for him. So, while he could ruin his masculinity and make things easier, Barty doesn’t. He’s just always preferred to look good rather than feel good.

Dorcas calls it trauma.

Barty calls it style.

It’s 3 pm, meaning the traffic is horrible, which is one of the reasons Barty decided to walk instead of taking a bus. Another reason is that it takes longer to walk. By walking, he can postpone a scary interaction for a few minutes more. 

Barty bites his lower lip, exhaling through the nose. 

It’s been a year. A year since Barty fucked up. A year since Regulus led Barty on. A year since Evan left. 

He didn’t come back home for Christmas, didn’t visit on weekends, or when he had time. He blocked both Barty and Regulus on everything, and whenever Barty begged him to respond through Pandora, she would ignore him too, pretend like she didn’t receive any messages and only text back when Barty asked about something else. Then she’d go back to her happy self and reply as if nothing was off.

During the first few months especially, Barty spent a lot of time looking at plane tickets from London to France. He fantasised about flying to France and apologising, fantasised about bringing Evan home and going back to being best friends. But it wasn’t ideal, was it? What was Barty supposed to say to Evan? What was he supposed to say to his best friend who had apparently been in love with him for years? How did you tackle that? Because yes, Barty loved Evan, he did. But like that?

Barty wasn’t in love with Evan, not the way Evan was in love with him at least. Despite wishing Evan had told him about his feelings, Barty understands why he didn’t. What would they have done? How would they have continued on as best friends if Barty knew Evan fancied him? Knew that when Evan smiled at him, it wasn’t with friendship in mind?

So in the end, Barty stayed where he was. Alone in London. Feeling like his whole life had been turned upside down in the matter of a few seconds.

After Evan had left, Barty and Regulus had a massive fight with lots of tears and yelling. Regulus confessed that he didn’t know if he wanted to be with Barty like that . Then he begged Barty to stay, to not leave him alone. But what was Barty supposed to do? How was he supposed to stay when his heart had just been crushed two times in less than an hour.

Tears rolled down Regulus' face and the word “please” left his mouth repeatedly like he was on some sort of autopilot. Barty thought he looked a mess, so unlike himself that it was almost pathetic – practically crying on the floor, begging and whimpering like a hurt animal. 

In that condition, Barty left him, storming out of his own flat with only two final words to offer Regulus. 

“Get. Out. ”

When he returned, there was no sign of Regulus anywhere. The only thing he found was a bloodied key on the floor with the initials E.R. written on it, which he quickly stuffed into a drawer so he didn’t have to think about what it meant.

After that, he cried.

It took Barty and Regulus two months to start talking again. However, one random night Regulus showed up on Barty’s doorstep, tears rolling down his cheeks as if he had been crying since the last time they saw each other. At first, Barty fully intended to slam the door in his face. Then Regulus spoke, his voice breaking on the first syllable.

“I- I’ve been disowned. My parents found out I’m gay.”

Evan’s voice inside Barty’s head tried to point out that Regulus always did this. Somehow always made his own problems theirs. But Evan had also been right about Barty. With Regulus, Barty was a lost cause, doomed to let Regulus get away with everything. So of course, all Barty did when Regulus showed up in front of his door on a random Wednesday night was wrap his arms around him and let him inside.

After telling Barty everything and then apologising, Regulus slept on Barty’s couch. Though neither mentioned Evan, both of them were somewhat okay despite everything that had happened. The three of them – Barty, Regulus, and Evan – had always been codependent on each other, and though Barty was hurt, he had missed Regulus during the two months alone. How Evan managed to survive all alone in foreign country, Barty didn’t know. If he had been in Evan’s position, he would’ve folded so quickly and returned, being the first to apologise.

Which is why he is now walking down the busy streets of London, trying to convince himself that he isn’t nervous. It’s fine. Just like Regulus and Barty are fine, Evan and Barty will be fine too. It's been a year. Evan has had time and space to adjust, and Barty has had time to regret and regret even more. He’s ready to apologise, to get his best friend back, and perhaps just forget everything if Evan will let him.

There’s an anxious part of him that suspects Evan doesn’t want to go back to how things were before, that he has found new friends and already has plans to move back to France once the summer is over. Or maybe he can’t go back to being friends with Barty because there’s a part of him that can’t stop wanting Barty as more than a friend. Barty isn’t sure which option is worse, but he’s certain neither is acceptable.

He’s getting his best friend back, whether Evan wants to or not.

The moment Barty’s finger leaves the doorbell, Barty contemplates jumping through the window across the stairwell. It’s roughly half a metre on each side, and the broken glass probably doesn’t feel too good on bare skin. However, it’s faster than going down all the stairs again, and for some reason the pain almost seems appealing compared to what might await Barty on the other side of the door.

Breathe , he tells himself, forcing himself to stop fidgeting with the loose thread in his right pocket. As Regulus usually tells him in his dramatic manner, Barty's going to unravel his pants if he keeps it up. 

With a low curse, Barty squeezes his nose bridge with two fingers. His foot won’t stop tapping against the marble floor, and the sound really doesn’t help with his nerves. Why can’t the door just open so he can get it over with, say hi and run away like a coward. 

Perhaps, they’re not home? Barty’s mind suggests, and he looks up at the door, feeling his heart slow down just a tad. He’ll wait a minute and then leave if there’s still no one by then.

However, Barty doesn’t even manage to get his phone out of his pocket before a girly laugh emerges from behind the door and the door knob turns. As the door is opened, Barty rethinks all his life choices in the matter of a millisecond, regretting at least eighty percent of them.

Though Barty knows who will open the door, the sight of Evan still leaves him breathless and with a feeling that his mind isn’t functioning correctly. The year apart has served Evan well. His hair has grown a few extra centimetres, and he has gotten more piercings in his ears. They suit him. 

Oh , how they suit him. Gold and dangly and absolutely hypnotising.

A smile lays comfortably on his lips, and his head is turned so he can keep his eyes on someone behind him as he finishes a sentence Barty hasn’t heard the first part of.

“-Think you get what I mean.” Evan interrupts himself as his eyes land on Barty. His smile disappears instantly, and something inside Barty screams at Evan’s sudden mood change. It’s Barty’s fault, he knows. The reason Evan now looks like he’s about to vomit or hide under a bed is Barty. And fuck, if Barty hates that.

Evan opens his mouth, then closes it again before looking away. Though Barty can’t see Evan’s mind, he knows Evan well enough to understand the cogwheels in his head are spinning faster and faster with every second. But hey, Barty interrupts himself, at least he’s somehow working , that’s more than you can say about Barty himself, who’s probably been staring for a creepy amount of time by now.

Evan shifts his gaze again, and this time when their eyes lock, he looks more composed and determined. Like he’s ready to get it all out after running away for a year. Barty’s not ready. Not in the slightest.

“Barty,” Evan says simply, and Barty is suddenly reminded that he hasn’t said anything yet. “Hi.”

Evan’s gotten taller, Barty realises. Not much, but enough for Barty to notice. They’re almost at the same height now.

“Hey.” It’s pathetic. It’s not enough. It’s not what he really wants to say. It’s all he can get out.

Evan’s looking at him, and it feels impossible that it’s been a year. That the last time they looked at each other, Evan had tears in his eyes and words of confession on his lips. Barty’s just as dumbstruck as he was then.

“It’s- It’s you,” Evan stammers. “You’re here.” And yes, he is. Barty’s here , and he can’t even really grasp it himself. “On my doorstep. You’re- Wait, why are you here?”

If it’s even possible, Barty’s sure his brain just breaks a bit more. Why is he here? Isn’t that just a good question? Because he’s Barty, and Evan’s Evan? Because he wants to? Because Evan’s his best friend and Barty misses him? Because, because, because-

“Well,” Barty starts, finally moving his gaze away from Evan. “To be honest I’m not exactly sure. Because it feels like the right thing to do?”

Get the hint , Barty begs silently, waiting for some big revelation to show on Evan’s face, but all he gets is a mumbled “oh” and tight grimace. I miss you.

“Yeah.”

Silence takes over when neither of them continues, and Barty once again wishes he could sink into the floor and disappear. If only the world could spare him a bit of pity. If only Barty could stop staring and say something useful for once. It’s not possible though. Barty can’t - not even if he wanted to - tear his eyes off Evan. It’s been a year, and Barty feels like there’s so many little details in Evan’s face he has completely forgotten. Like how light his freckles actually are or the exact way his curls fall. If given the opportunity, Barty would happily spend hours studying them again until he’s sure he won’t forget them again.

Out of the corner of his eyes, a sudden movement attracts Barty’s attention, and he seems to realise around the same time as Evan that they aren’t alone. Never have been.

Evan’s right arm is draped over the shoulders of a redhead Barty is certain he has never met before. Her left arm is wrapped around Evan’s waist, and with the other hand, she carefully fiddles with Evan’s ring on the hand resting on her shoulder. She doesn’t seem to realise that she’s fidgeting, but Barty notices. 

She’s pretty, Barty thinks. Too pretty. Big green doe eyes, long hair to her waist, and a short summer dress with matching earrings. And she seems so, so comfortable, leaned up against Evan like it’s something they do often. Like they’re familiar with each other. Like they know each other very, very well. Like-

Barty feels his heart sink. He’s pretty sure he’s either going to faint or say something very stupid. Fortunately though, Evan saves him by speaking up.

“Oh yeah, sorry, Barty, this is Lily-”

Lily . What an ugly name.

“-Lily, this is Barty.”

Barty doesn’t like her. He decides it in less than a second, and if you look at it objectively, he has no reason to decide so, but he’s certain. He does not approve of her.

“Lovely to meet you.” She’s got an even worse voice, too sweet and kind, like she’s intentionally trying to lure you into a trap and then drink all of your blood like a vampire or something equally worse. 

“Yeah, sure,” Barty drawls, not really in control of what leaves his mouth at the moment.

“Wait!” A new voice pipes up from inside, and Barty feels some of the irritation subside as excitement takes over when he realises he recognizes the overly happy girl voice. “Barty?”

Pandora only just gets through the door, before slamming into Barty and wrapping her arms around his neck so he can spin her around. The overwhelming smell of her invades Barty’s nostrils, but it’s not enough, and Barty hides his face in her shoulder, giggling into her sweater as he lets himself really feel her.

Since the Rosiers’ departure to France, Barty and Pandora have facetimed and exchanged messages – never about Even though – but no amount of talking or looking at each other through a screen can compare to being face to face again. Not even if it’s only for a few minutes. Oh, Barty’s never letting her leave again. 

“Holy shit, Panda,” Barty grins, finally letting Pandora get both feet back on the ground. She doesn’t pull far away, though, staying in Barty’s arms as she flashes him a big smile radiating with light and happiness. “Fuck, it’s been forever.”

Barty pulls her into another hug, feeling her ease rub off on him. She has always been one of his favourite people in the whole world. Even before Evan.

“It has!” Pandora agrees, squeezing him tightly in return. Though Barty wants to keep her in his embrace, he lets Pandora pull all the way back this time, remembering there’re still other people in the stairwell. “Do you want to come inside? Me and Lily are making cookies. Oh, you have to stay for cookies. Then you and Evan could also-”

Barty interrupts before she can say something that’ll accidentally make things worse. Pandora’s lovely, she truly is, but she has horrible timing sense, and it’s impossible to make her feel ashamed. She could be in a room filled with awkward silence and staring gazes and still not realise something was off. 

“Thanks, but no thanks,” Barty says, his gaze flying to Evan, who’s still looking at him. Barty tries to tell himself it’s something he imagines, but his stomach does a thing. “I, uh, have to get going. I’ve got places to be. Just wanted to say welcome back.”

Evan nods, and for a second Barty feels like it could be just them.

God, he’s so handsom-

“Are you sure?” Pandora asks. “The cookies will be ready soon. We could play a card game or something. It would be loads of fun. We could even-”

“Pan,” the redhead interrupts, gaining Pandora’s attention. She’s still standing with her arm around Evan, and now she carefully tilts her head, resting it against Evan’s chest. “Maybe another time, hm?”

It’s an innocent suggestion, but Barty sees it for what it is. A way to distract Pandora from the tension clearly oozing from the dangerous space between Evan and Barty. Unlike Pandora, the Lily-girl has realised Evan and Barty might not be on “let’s get cookies and play card games” terms. 

“Yeah,” Barty reluctantly agrees. “Another time maybe. I’ll see you.” 

Barty gives Pandora a sweet smile before turning to Evan, dutifully ignoring Lily. Evan’s face is neutral, and Barty is certain he would prefer Evan being mad compared to this. It’s impossible to read him. Impossible to get any idea of what he’s thinking about, and it might drive Barty a bit mad.

He feels like he’s trying to solve a puzzle but he’s missing all the pieces and sitting by a table while staring blindly into the polished tree surface. And to make matters even worse, he doesn’t even know what the puzzle would look like if he completed it. What amazing image would it reveal?

“Evan.”

“Barty.”

I miss you.

“Regulus might want to get in contact with you. Just talking, you know.”

No reaction. No surprise that Barty and Regulus are still talking. No flashes of hurt or remembrance. Absolutely nothing.

“Oh, okay.”

Barty sighs, giving Evan a curt nod as farewell before turning around and refusing to look back as he disappears down the stairs. He pretends to not hear them mumble to each other, pretends the slam of the door doesn’t hurt just a bit, but in reality Barty feels even more lost than when he arrived.

The walk back to his and Regulus' flat is long, and the rain even starts pouring again, soaking Barty’s hoodie in a few minutes. By the time Barty opens the door, he’s just as cold outside as inside.

Regulus is sitting on the sofa with a book in his hands, and he doesn’t bother to look up from it as he tells Barty to take off his shoes before stepping on the carpet. Barty does, silently stepping on the ruined back of his converse so he can wiggle his feet free.

“So,” Regulus says when Barty doesn’t immediately say anything. Though he hides it well, Barty knows Regulus is nervous to hear what he has to say. The two of them had agreed it was smarter to let Barty talk to Evan first alone, since he and Evan always had been closer. But also because they didn’t know how mad Evan would be. “How did it go?”

Barty stops with his back facing Regulus, mindlessly recalling every detail he can remember. Then he lets out a pent-up sigh and says outright:

“Evan’s got a girlfriend.”

…

At the time the clock reaches 8 pm, Barty has been sprawled out across the sofa for at least four hours. He had planned to go for a run, but even when the rain stopped, Barty didn’t feel like it, which is why Barty is currently moping on his own couch while Regulus fidgets around the living room with a nervous energy all over him.

“Reg, do you mind,” Barty slurs, helplessly reaching towards his phone on the coffee table, not even a metre from him. He knows he can reach it if he simply bothers to sit up, but it’s easier to get Regulus to fetch it for him.

“No,” Regulus interrupts him. His back is turned to Barty and he faces a mirror, putting on a pretty necklace Barty thinks might be a gift from him. “Get it yourself.”

“You didn’t even let me finish,” Barty groans into the couch, seriously considering taking a nap right there and then. They have to be out of the house by 8.45, and Barty still hasn’t changed. If it wasn’t for Regulus insisting on Barty tagging along, Barty would’ve cancelled plans the second he had heard Evan was back. 

It feels like their short encounter has sucked Barty dry of energy – something that never happens – and now he’s only a sorry shell of himself.

“Didn’t need to,” Regulus says, leaving no room for arguing as he once again disappears upstairs to retrieve more jewellery he can hide behind. Or perhaps an even sluttier top. The one he is currently wearing is only open in the back , after all.

Geez, It’s just a party . Barty wants to stop Regulus’ restlessly walking around and tell him so, but to be honest Barty gets why he’s fretting so much. The party is held at the Potters’ household, which means Sirius is going to be there. Originally, Barty and Regulus hadn’t planned on going, but since Sirius personally sent an invite to Regulus, Regulus has been freaking the fuck out upon receiving the text message, overanalysing everything.

Heyy Reg
A friend of mine is hosting a party and I was wondering if you’d wanna come?

Barty thinks Regulus might kill him if he tries to get him to calm him down. But on the other side, if he was dead, he wouldn’t have to think too hard about his issues with Evan. He doesn’t reckon Evan and Pandora will be there tonight – they’ve just gotten home – but still, there’s some part of him that tells him he can’t be completely sure before he’s checked.

Regulus comes down the stairs again and, to Barty’s amusement, he has actually changed the black top to a partly see-through shirt with long sleeves.

“I like the other one better,” Barty mumbles, rolling onto his back and folding his arms behind his back. Regulus doesn’t react, heading straight for the mirror again. He’s brought even more jewellery down this time, and Barty watches as he starts changing his earrings. “Open backs suit you better. Also, the material of this one looks shit.”

“Crouch, you can be a judgemental bitch when you’re ready to go. Until then, you better keep your useless mouth shut.”

“Oh,” Barty tuts, a smile growing on his lips. “Someone’s moody.”

Regulus flips him off over the shoulder, and Barty laughs, lazily stretching like a giant cat.

“I mean it, Barty. Go change. I don’t need your stupid comments right now.”

Regulus has pulled out his eyeliner and is now carefully adding a small wing to the end of his eye. Though he seems normal, getting ready for a party like any other night, Barty knows he’s worried. That though he doesn’t show it, there’s a part of him that wants to join Barty on the couch and stay there for the rest of night so he can dwell in his misery on his own. Maybe if Barty wasn’t so miserable himself, he’d make Regulus talk about it. Instead, Barty simply sighs, gathering strength enough to get up and head upstairs.

In the end, Barty is the first ready to go, Regulus still changing shirts at the last minute.

…

The music is probably considered loud, but Barty thinks it’s a bit lame as he and Regulus arrive a quarter past 9 pm. 

The top Regulus has chosen is a new one Barty hasn’t seen him in before, and Barty has to admit it looks flattering on him. Maybe – who knows – he’ll steal it in a couple of weeks when Regulus has forgotten it in the back of his closet.

Despite being overly nervous, Regulus seems very calm. Even as he and Barty catch sight of Sirius and Potter chatting lazily to each other across the room, Regulus keeps his mask up, nodding leisurely towards what Barty assumes must be the kitchen.

“Let’s get something to drink,” Regulus says over the music. His voice is flat, as if he really doesn’t care that his brother looks as if he just realised his younger brother actually decided to show up.

“Sure,” Barty mutters under his breath, letting Regulus drag him into another room. For Barty, this party will only become interesting if he downs a lot of alcohol very fast. Perhaps he might even be lucky enough to find a sweet girl or something to make time pass.

As Barty and Regulus walk through Potter’s house, Barty comes to realise that Mr. and Mrs. Potter have got to love their son and each other a whole lot. On every vertical surface, pictures in various sizes and shapes hangs, showcasing how perfect their picture-perfect lives are. Giant teeth-smiles, birthday cakes and birthday boys, graduation day, excursions, and holiday moments. Happy, happy, happy. Barty feels like he might vomit.

It’s physically impossible for someone to be that constantly happy. Something has got to be off.

Barty doesn’t ask what Regulus has got them as the boy returns with two filled glasses. All he does is take a big churn of the glass Regulus offers to him. It tastes slightly fruity, like cherry or strawberry, with an undertone of vodka. If Barty could’ve chosen, he would’ve preferred just plain vodka. However, Regulus knows, so Barty doesn’t comment on it, putting an arm around Regulus to try to get him to stop fidgeting with his necklace.

“Relax, Reggie. This – right here – will hurt tomorrow if you don’t relax your shoulders,” Barty says, squeezing behind Regulus’ right shoulder blade. 

Regulus brushes his hand away, taking a sip from his drink, before saying, “Fuck off.”

“Meanie. I’m trying to help you.”

“Never asked for your help, did I now?” Regulus mutters into his glass. His eyebrows shoot up in question, and Barty sighs, for once genuinely trying to be a good friend. He knows from experience how hard it can be, reconnecting with someone from your past you aren’t exactly on the best terms with.

“Fine,” Barty grumbles, looking up to the hallway behind Regulus. “I’ll go find someone else to pester. Then you and Sirius can talk shit through without my glorious opinion. By the way, if my calculations are correct, he’ll be over here in five.”

"Five?"

"Four."

At that Regulus’ head shoots up, panic shining in his piercing blue eyes. Barty knows Regulus will scold him for leaving later, but at the moment, he can’t bring himself to care, giving Regulus an assuring pat on the shoulder and using it as leverage to push past him. So, therefore Barty only smiles as he passes Sirius in the hallway before disappearing into the living room where the music is louder and drowns out Regulus’ frantically whispered protests. 

If it weren’t for the lighting and the crowd of drunk people dancing – if you can call it that – to the beat of the music, Barty thinks the Potters’ living room would look more like an art museum rather than a place to host a party. Or if you look away from the house’s massive size, all the small fragile knick-knacks of porcelain could make it look like it belonged to a grandma who lived alone because her husband had died at an early age and her kids refused to talk to her because she wasn’t okay with them being gay.

After carefully making his way around the whole room and testing out the vibes of different people, Barty somehow ends up heading in the direction of James Potter himself. He doesn’t really like the guy, and he’s also pretty certain Potter doesn’t like him, but really, someone needs to start the party somehow. And what’s a better way than with some good banter or maybe even a fight. It could also create the distraction Regulus would need if he needs to flee.

Potter stands with his back resting against the wall. One arm is folded across his torso, and the other is holding a drink identical to the one Barty’s holding. It wouldn’t surprise Barty, if Potter’s the reason they're serving these sweet drinks with such a low alcohol percentage. Barty has a feeling Potter’s the type to only drink coffee and tea if they’re filled with sugar and milk.

A smirk finds its way to Barty’s lips as he slowly draws closer, carefully dodging the people in the way. He can’t wait to see Potter’s face when he realises Barty’s here. If Barty remembers correctly – which he does – Barty managed to get Potter arrested for something Barty had done the last time the two of them saw each other. Who knows, maybe Barty doesn’t have to start anything. Maybe Potter will do the job for him.

“Potter,” Barty tuts, putting on a fake surprised expression. “Didn’t expect to see you here, buddy. Missed me much?”

Potter stops mid-sentence, turning his head to fix his gaze on Barty, and oh, how Barty revels in the way his fingers tighten around his glass. Barty almost wants to point to his neck, grin, and say, my turn next .

However, he doesn’t manage to get anything else out before Potter’s companion turns around, red hair and summer dress flowing around her as she does so.

Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

For the second time today, Barty realises he has started a conversation with someone who can’t really stand him at the moment without noticing the redhead by their side. And for the second time today, she couldn’t have chosen a worse moment to appear in.

“You,” Barty says, mask slipping momentarily.

“Barty,” Lily says, recognition shining in her eyes. A smile spreads on her lips as if she’s actually delighted to see him.

“Didn’t know the two of you knew each other,” Potter chimes in. His brows are pulled together, and Barty remembers his own face might still be distorted in slight disgust and annoyance. Quickly, he gathers himself, staring arrogantly back at Potter with more confidence than he actually has.

“We don’t,” Barty states at the same time Lily says, “We met earlier today, actually.”

Potter nods slowly, and Barty shifts his gaze to stare her down. He knows that if he finishes his glass soon enough, he’ll start a fight with her and not Potter. 

“He’s a friend of Pan and Evs,” Lily elaborates, even though no one asked, and Barty hates the way her mouth automatically forms the nicknames Pan and Evs.

Fuck you, Lily , Barty thinks, glaring daggers into the back of her head.

“Oh, wait, I think I knew that actually,” Potter ponders, taking a sip from his glass. Something – maybe it’s the annoyingness, Barty’s not sure – in his voice makes Barty look away from Lily and back to Potter. Forcing himself to take a deep breath in through his nostrils, Barty offers a really fucking fake smile, Potter returns in the same fake-ass manner.

“And how about the two of you? How do you know each other?” Barty asks as sweetly as he can muster without gagging. If you ignored his tone and the context, you might think it was normal chit-chat etiquette, but both Lily and Potter are too smart to not catch on to the bitterness.

“Exes,” Potter explains simply, using his free hand to gesture between them.

“Ah,” Barty says, nodding understandingly, and then just because Barty loves the chaos, he opens his mouth again. “So, who broke up with whom? Or was it like a mutual agreement because y’all sort of realised how annoying you guys actually are?”

Potter’s facial expression doesn’t change; however, Lily actually lets out a gasp at the implied insult. It can’t be a complete surprise to her, though; Evan has got to have warned her, especially after this afternoon. Barty’s not really a nice person at all, and if Evan hasn’t told Lily, then he’s changed more than Barty would’ve thought possible.

“For the record,” Potter shoots back, his voice brimming with irritation Barty’s certain he’s having a hard time restraining. “She did. But we’re still very good friends. I’m sure that’s more than you could say about your exes.”

“What can I say, Potter? I tend to enjoy life with it’s a bit more quick and rough, if you get what I mean,” Barty says, keeping up the passive-aggressiveness. Potter looks like he’s one insult away from jumping Barty, and it surprises him that they don’t need to be more drunk to fly at each other. “I know it might be an unfamiliar concept when you’re such a vanilla guy yourself.”

Barty isn’t sure when he and Potter came so close to each other, but he suddenly realises he can touch Potter from where he stands. Therefore, if Potter had the guts to do it, he could punch Barty in the face without even moving. He looks like he’s contemplating, Barty thinks, leaning in slightly to tempt him even more. However, before Potter can decide, a new third voice interrupts, sending goosebumps erupting on Barty’s arms.

“Barty?” Evan’s voice cuts through the music, and fuck, Barty should’ve realised he would’ve been here. If his girlfriend is out partying, why would he stay away?

Oh, for fuck’s sake. Wouldn’t things just be easier if Regulus had decided he was still mad at Sirius and wouldn’t attend this stupid party? Wouldn’t things just be easier if Evan hadn’t come back home to mess with Barty’s head again?

“Evan,” Barty says, carefully turning around. He drags the last syllable out as if it somehow can give him more time to think of a good explanation for why he’s pestering Potter and his ex – Evan’s girlfriend. Barty feels like he’s a kid, who’s been caught with his hand down the cookie jar.

It doesn’t matter, though. Evan knows why from the second he and Barty lock eyes. Barty can see it in his expression. No matter what sort of lie Barty could pull out of his imaginary hat, it wouldn’t be enough to convince Evan that he’s innocent. Evan knows him too well. And Barty knows Evan too well to try.

Beside him, Pandora stands with a drink in each hand, looking like she’s more excited than concerned about Barty talking to James Potter. She knows about their past – just like everyone else, including Evan – but for some unbelievable reason, she doesn’t seem to understand that Barty likes to annoy Potter for the sake of annoying him and nothing else.

Solely based on Evan's body language, Barty would guess he knows damn well Barty’s the one who started it all.

“Can I talk to you, Barty?” Evan asks. It’s not a question. They all know it – or maybe except for Pandora.

Yes! Barty’s insides scream in an instant. He doesn’t say it though. This isn’t the type of talk he wants with Evan right now.

“ Now , Barty.” Evan insists when Barty stays silent for too long. Because Barty doesn’t want to infuriate Evan more than he already has, Barty nods, slowly sauntering towards Evan.

“I suppose you may,” Barty says, offering a sincere smile, which Evan doesn’t return.

“Lils,” Evan says, ignoring Barty as he holds out his drink for her. “Do you mind taking care of this for me until I get back?” 

Lils.Ugh.

Lily accepts his glass with a sweet nod, and Barty physically has to bite his tongue to not sneer at her. Fortunately, Evan is quick to move on, turning to walk away with determined movements. A smell of his cologne hangs in the air when he whips past Barty, and Barty has to suppress the urge to stop him, wrap an arm around his waist, and hide his face in Evan’s hair.

“Panda,” Barty says in farewell, gaining a typical-Pandora grin. “Potter.” Not surprisingly, that gets him nothing. “Lils.” Nothing again. Then Evan grabs him by the wrist and drags him away before he can leave more damage in his wake than he already has.

Evan doesn’t stop before he’s practically been through the whole house, and Barty lets himself be pulled in whatever direction Evan wants, hoping that his own willingness will make Evan calm down a bit at least. In the end, they end up outside on the porch, with Evan forcing Barty to sit on the stairs.

Plummeting down on the cold tree, Barty opens his mouth to let out an insincere apology because Evan will crave it from him – though he’d probably prefer if it was sincere – and Barty would rather get it out of the way. However, Evan doesn’t let him speak, forcefully grabbing Barty’s drink and pouring it into the nearest bush without hesitation. Automatically, Barty lunges for his glass, yelling “ hey!” but his reaction is too slow, and Barty stops himself halfway through the word, letting Evan return the empty glass to his awaiting hand.

At least, it wasn’t a good drink, he tells himself, eyeing the glass with furrowed brows.

“What are you doing here?” Evan asks, the somewhat calm voice from before completely gone.

“Trust me, Rosie, I’d rather be anywhere else,” Barty says without looking up. Small drops of sweet liquid rolls down the outside of his glass, and Barty leans in to lick them off before they can reach his fingers and make him all sticky. 

Nope, he states mentally, definitely not a waste.

“Then why are you here?”

“Because sweet Reggie is trying to have his touching little bonding moment with Big Black.” That seems to get Evan’s attention, and Barty continues to speak since it might keep him out of trouble for a little while longer. “When we leave later, he’s so gonna kick my ass for leaving him alone, but like, I was not about to stay with him and listen to them whine together. Like, what does he think I am? A fucking peacekeeper?”

“Reg’s talking to Sirius again?” Evan asks. His voice is infinitely soft, and Barty can’t help but shoot a glance in his direction. He looks genuinely confused, which Barty gets. He himself hadn’t believed it when Regulus told him Sirius had texted.

“Well, I hope so. It’s the only reason we’re here, after all. I’m his best buddy slash wingman, whatever you really wanna call it. Like, we’re not together or anything, if you’ve been wondering. Just friends.” Barty’s aware that he’s rambling on. Even more than usual, but Evan is looking at him, and it’s nerve-wracking. 

Fuck , Barty curses mentally. A year ago, he wouldn’t ever have been nervous around Evan. A year ago, Barty would’ve been his calmest, cracking jokes and maybe even flirting – just for the fun of it, though. 

“So yeah, anyways, ” Barty says. Evan is still looking at him with big blue eyes, and if it wasn’t weird, Barty would like to just sit here and stare at him for a few hours. Despite the nervousness, it feels good to have Evan back. “He’s trying, Evan. And he’s not perfect, but he’s really, really trying. You should see him. It’s crazy. He’s practically a new person. Don’t think he has slept with anyone since last year.”

Barty means it. Regulus has changed, and Barty admires him for it. Since moving in with Barty, Regulus has only gotten his life more together. Of course, there were some nights where it was rough, but in general, Regulus’ lifestyle was improving a whole lot actually. 

When Barty asked if Regulus would be interested in moving from the couch to Barty’s bed, even if it was just as friends, Regulus insisted that they didn’t since it would only complicate things further. And when the two of them decided that they’d change the useless office across from Barty’s bedroom to Regulus’ bedroom, Regulus insisted on starting to pay rent too. He was owning up to the things he needed to own up to, and after almost a year, Regulus was even starting to sort out his past. He had also gotten himself a therapist.

“I think,” Barty ponders. “I think you’d be proud of him. Like seriously proud.”

Evan sits hunched over with his elbows on his knees, and Barty can’t see his face as he says, “okay.” After that, silence forms between them. A silence Barty has experienced thousands of times with thousands of people, but never with Evan. It’s unsettling, and though Barty wishes he could just pretend like everything is fine, he unfortunately has a habit of speaking when he probably shouldn’t.

“So,” Barty starts, already regretting the words he hasn’t uttered yet. “The redhead.”

Evan hums, and Barty can’t stand it, wanting to jump up and do something like he and Evan would’ve once done.

“When did, uh…the two of you…?” Barty says, leaving the sentence hanging unfinished in the air. He gestures with his hand as if he can’t really remember the words he wants to say, but in reality, that’s not why he doesn’t finish the sentence. He knows exactly what he would say, if he would let himself say the words. When did the two of you start fucking?

“When did we what?” Evan asks, and Barty really wants to pound his head into the doorframe behind them. 

“Uh, nothing, forget it,” Barty mutters, running a hand over his face. He’s so fucking tired, it’s actually insane. Could use a good long nap – or a bottle of vodka, that would get the job done too.

“Okay then,” Evan says, and it’s not okay then, but Barty can’t do anything but nod repeatedly. Again, the quietness envelops them, only disturbed by the occasional cars driving by on the road in front of them or the music coming from inside. Though the air is chill, it’s still warm enough to sit outside in the evening wearing only a t-shirt, and Barty remembers why summer used to be his favourite season.

Staying up to an ungodly hour and looking at the stars and sometimes just Evan. Going to the beach and sleeping with far too little sunscreen on, sometimes opening his eyes so he could watch Evan next to him. Fighting about the space underneath the air conditioner with Evan and ending up in a pile of arms and legs on the ground-

“ I didn’t know you were into girls.”

And Barty fucks it up again. Doesn’t even know why he says it, but he needs to know. If Evan has changed, Barty wants to know. Even if the two of them are mad at each other.

“I,” Evan stutters, and out of the corner of his eyes, Barty can see him press his lips tightly together and frown. “I’m not?”

“But you’ve got a girlfriend?” Barty asks, feeling Evan’s confusion rub off on him. How can you not like girls, but still have a girlfriend, that doesn’t make sense, that-

“Excuse me, what?” Evan suddenly exclaims, his head whipping around so fast Barty’s afraid his neck might snap. He has misstepped, it seems. He doesn’t know where, though, and as Evan searches his face for answers, Barty has to admit he doesn’t have any. “Girlfriend? Barty, I’m gay!”

“I know!” Barty blurts out, putting down his empty glass so he can lift his hands in surrender. His heart is beating too fast in his chest, and his brain is flying, grazing every thought it can pass without finding anything useful. “You’ve said before, but I didn’t want to assume anything, you know. It’s been a whole year, and people can change in less time. Maybe you just found the one, okay? I don’t know, don’t yell at me!”

“I,” Evan stutters again, opening and closing his mouth for a few seconds before turning away and chuckling . Barty feels his cheeks heat up with shame. “Oh, my god, why the fuck would you think I might be into girls, Barty? That’s like the weirdest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“I don’t know,” Barty says, shrugging. A bit of the passive-aggressiveness is sneaking into his tone and Barty hates that he can’t really control it. “Maybe because you’ve been all up in that redhead’s space, is all.”

“Is this about Lily?” Evan questions, and Barty doesn’t think it’s fair that he sounds surprised. Who else would it be about?

“ Is this about Lily? ” Barty mimics exaggerated. “Yeah, It’s about Lily . About Lils , wasn’t that what you called her earlier, hm?” Barty sneers at her name, throwing his hands up into the air before letting them fall to rest on his knees. “Such a nice gentleman, you were. Got her a drink and everything.”

The worst thing isn’t that Barty knows he should shut up, knows that he’s being unfair. The worst thing is that all Evan does is break down and laugh. Curls forwards and hides his face in his hands as a lovely, joyous laugh falls from his perfect lips. It’s crazy how fast it cures Barty’s annoyance, leaving him with a warm feeling in his stomach. Like Barty’s capable of doing more than starting unnecessary drama because he can’t keep his mouth shut.

“ Lily ,” Evan says when his laugh subsides. However, Barty’s glad to see that the smile doesn’t leave his eyes. “Is Pandora’s girlfriend. I am just as gay as I’ve always been.”

And, oh. Oh. It makes sense. Explains a lot of fucking things.

“Oh,” Barty manages, making Evan laugh again. This time, when he curls forwards, his hand comes to rest on Barty’s shoulder, and suddenly it doesn’t matter if Barty’s made a fool of himself. He’s gotten his Evan back – in some sense.

“Yeah,” Evan gets out between laughs. “ Oh.”

“But,” Barty starts, feeling his own smile grow. “How was I supposed to know?”

“You know I’m gay, Barty. You also know Pan’s literally pan. And have you seen Lily? She’s Pan’s type in a nutshell. Also, you could’ve just asked if it really was that hard to figure out, no need to bitch about Lily, like-”

“Fine, I get it. Shut up already, would you?”

“No,” Evan giggles, dissolving into laughter again. Barty sighs to himself, trying to ignore the way Evan’s voice does things to his stomach. It’s nothing new that Evan affects him like this, but combined with the nervousness, it feels like a whole new sensation. Barty knows it’s fragile, saw how it broke so easily last year, and though his hands weren’t meant to create or be gentle like Evan’s were, Barty will cherish this new feeling as carefully as possible. He’ll store it somewhere where no one ever will be able to reach other than him – and maybe Evan.

Finally, Evan’s hysterical laughter comes to an end, and as he straightens his back, Barty sits utterly still, hoping Evan will let his hand rest on his shoulder. Unfortunately, though, Evan carefully pulls his hand to himself, the chill air instantly stealing the newfound warmth from Barty’s shoulder away.

This time, the silence floating between them is a different type of quietness, a familiar one that makes Barty exhale with relief. It’s peaceful, and if Barty closes his eyes, he can even pretend like it would be okay if he leaned his head against Evan’s shoulder. Like nothing has ever changed. 

Oh, dreaming about this is different than experiencing it, Barty realises. Though reality is way scarier, the feelings make it worth it. No dopamine rush created by his mind could ever compare to this. To the real Evan. Right next to the real Barty. 

Just two real boys with real feelings. Such as anxiety and fear. But also love and happiness. 

Just two best friends. And this time, Barty won’t fuck up.

“So,” Evan says. His shoulders are sagging again, back curving softly, and his eyes are fixed on the horizon as his fingers unconsciously fidget with his ring. It’s gold, just like all the other jewellery he wears, and though Barty can’t see it at the moment, he knows the word Rosie is engraved on the inside. 

Barty gave it to him when he turned fifteen. Evan used to have a habit of biting his nails and picking at his skin, so the ring had been Barty’s attempt at getting him to stop. After years and years, Barty still doesn’t think he has ever seen Evan without it.

“So,” Barty echoes, propping his chin on his palm and tilting his head in Evan's direction. It doesn’t make Evan turn, but Barty knows he’s watching him out of the corner of his eye. Evan’s always been the type of guy to wear sunglasses for the sole purpose of staring at people without them noticing.

“How was France?”

“Hm?” Evan asks, confirming Barty that he had indeed been occupied with something else. Smirking to himself, Barty’s gaze doesn’t leave the night sky.

“France.”

“Oh, yeah. Nice, I guess.”

“You guess?” Bary chuckles softly.

“Fuck off. France was good, you know what I mean.”

“But do I now?”

“You’re impossible.” Evan rolls his eyes, shoving at Barty’s arm. However, it only makes Barty laugh more, which makes Evan grin too though he tries to hide it behind his cold facade.

After that, it’s all easy again. Chit-chatting about everything and nothing, just like they’ve always done. Barty’s newest favourite song and Evan’s art degree. Regulus’ taste in furniture – yes, Barty mentions that the two of them have moved in together – and Pandora’s upcoming trip to Japan in a few years. Whatever they can think of really. Sometimes it’s not even an actual topic, but just bickering for the sake of bickering.

“That wasn’t what I said, dickhead.”

“I know what I heard, Rosie. You can’t gaslight me this time.”

“For once, Barty, I promise I’m not trying to gaslight you.”

“...Is exactly what a gaslighter would say.”

“No, a gaslighter would tell you you've lost your mind for assuming they’re gaslighting you.”

“Well, have I lost my mind then, Rosie?”

“Absolutely.”

It’s light pushes and only half-joking insults. It’s rolled eyes and easy smiles. Knees bumping against each other and hair falling into beautiful blue eyes. A strand of hair Barty just has to tuck behind Evan’s ear and body heat warming the space between them that doesn’t really exist since Barty at some point managed to sneak his arm around Evan’s shoulder.

A sudden urge to do something and a voice in his head warning him of the mistake he’s about to make. But isn’t that the thing, though? Barty’s brilliant at making mistakes and ruining the things he loves the most. Isn’t it already doomed to fail because despite knowing when he’s about to fuck about, there’s a different voice in his head.

But what if it doesn’t end badly? it asks, and Barty knows it will, but what if it won’t? What if ?

One second, Barty and Evan are laughing about something unimportant, then Barty’s lips are on Evan’s and everything just stops. Barty doesn’t know when his hand ended up on Evan’s cheek, but it’s there and Barty uses it to cup his chin and hold him close as he mindlessly moves his mouth against Evan’s.

They’re kissing, his mind informs him, yet Barty discards the idea that it could be real. Because why would he and Evan kiss? Why would Barty initiate a kiss with Evan when he loves Evan but just not like that? 

Evan sits completely frozen as if he, just like Barty, believes it to be some sort of far-fetched dream, which would also make sense since Barty’s around ninety-five percent sure the whole world doesn’t exist at the moment. However, it’s possible they’ve been moved to another universe where it’s just them and no one else.

Suddenly Evan goes limp, practically melts in Barty’s embrace, and in an instant all thoughts of why are gone. 

Yes, Barty thinks eagerly, tilting Evan’s head back to deepen the kiss. His tongue swipes over Evan’s bottom lip, silently asking for more, more, more, and the feeling of anticipation is doing things to his stomach, making him want to pull Evan closer and run his hands up his sides, and-

A hand fists in his shirt, and then suddenly he’s being pushed away. The magic is broken faster than Barty can blink, and the world comes into focus again, Barty’s fuck-ups rolling over him like a disastrous wave. It’s not a distant dream or a “what if” his hand has created; it’s all very, very real, and very, very much a mistake. It’s shame burning in his throat as Evan gets to his feet, scrambling to get away and tears threatening to well up because it all hurts.

Why? Barty asks himself pathetically. He receives no answer, though. The voice that encouraged him to go for it is silent, leaving Barty as the only one left to blame. 

Not even the alcohol can protect him. Barty barely drank anything, and Potter’s stupid drinks are practically just juice anyway. He’s all alone with the consequences of a stupid spontaneous idea.

I just got him back , Barty pleads helplessly.

It’s your own fault, his mind responds. And it is. 

“Evan. Evan, wait.”

“No. No!” His back is turned to Barty, his shoulders heaving and falling in a tempo Barty can’t follow. 

“Please, Evan. I’m sorry, I really am. I shouldn’t have- Please. Don’t go, don’t-”

Barty’s back on both feet. He’s reaching for Evan, stepping closer, pleading to get him to stay, and desperately trying to regain the warmth that was ripped away from him. Without Evan by his side, it’s too cold outside, and goosebumps make their appearance on his arms barred to the night.

“Evan,” Barty tries, but Evan doesn’t acknowledge him, doesn’t listen, doesn’t look at him, and it aches in Barty’s heart. 

A year ago, Evan’s departure was over before it even started – for Barty, at least. During most of the argument, Barty had no clue of what was happening. Tears were rolling, insults were thrown, and Barty was kept out of it like Regulus and Evan had their own little secret they didn’t plan on letting him in on. And when Evan finally broke and explained everything, it was too late. Barty had frozen up, unable to comprehend, and then it was too late. Evan was gone, and Barty wasn’t even sure if he understood fully why.

This time, however, Barty’s painfully aware of everything. Every mistake he made then and makes now. Knows Evan wouldn’t want him to get too close, but can’t stop himself from trying. It hurts worse this time because Barty doesn’t have an excuse.

“Evan,” Barty begs, voice coated with despair, and suddenly Evan stops and turns to face him. His face is twisted in regret and pain, and Barty wants to apologise, wants to make it better again, but he isn’t made for repairing and nothing makes it past his lips.

Evan holds his hand up, forcing space and silence in between them, and his steady palm against Barty’s chest feels like a knife. Don’t , it says and though Barty wants to ignore it, he doesn’t, simply answers with his own silent please. It earns him nothing, and Barty wants to repeat it, out loud this time. He really, really wants to, still, he keeps his mouth shut, scared to break the hesitation shown on Evan’s face.

As if it can sense Evan’s hand’s closeness, Barty’s hard hammers harder and faster for every second. Evan has to feel it, Barty thinks. He’s looking at Barty’s torso as if he can see directly through his skin to his heart, so he has to feel something. Has to feel how much Barty needs him close in whatever way he can get, has to feel the word his heart screams with every beat.

Please. Please. Please.

Barty wants Evan to look up at him. His own eyes are fixed on Evan’s face, studying every emotion Evan lets surface and tries to guess what he’s thinking. But he can’t. Barty doesn’t know Evan like he did a year ago. He’s got no idea of what Evan’s thinking and it’s driving him insane. He wants Evan to meet his gaze because the eyes are supposed to be the windows to the soul, but when Evan finally does look up, Barty’s just as lost as before. 

Please.

Evan shakes his head, expression firm. Then, with his hand still extended between them and both remorse and longing shining in his eyes, he whispers, “No. No, Barty. I’m not making that fucking mistake again.”

Just like a year ago, Evan doesn’t wait for Barty to gather his thoughts before running away and leaving Barty with the damage he alone created. Again, Evan isn’t the problem. It’s Barty. Always fucking Barty.