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Barty Crouch Jr. has never felt worse than he does at this moment, wanting – no needing – only two things in the whole world.

To cry. 

And Evan.

At this point, the need is practically embedded into his soul, making him feel incomplete whenever he remembers Evan doesn’t want anything to do with him. The rejection makes his limbs shake and chest ache, and worst of all, he doesn’t understand why. His mind is a mess. He is a mess. Why does it have to hurt so much? Why would Evan reject him when he looks at Barty like that? Why, Why, Why?

When Regulus came home a few hours later, Barty had already cried himself seven different rivers and gone through the five stages of grief a couple of times. Barty sat on the sofa, curled up around himself with his head between his knees, contemplating his existence, when the front door opened. Though Barty knew he looked a mess, he still rushed to his feet to get to Regulus before he could leave Barty alone with his suffering. 

“Evan,” Barty exhaled, stumbling to follow Regulus, who was already heading for the stairs and his escape route. “Is he- Is he mad? Of course, he’s mad. Is he okay? Regulus, please, just say yes or no. That’s all I need to know, please.”

Suddenly Regulus stopped, lifting his head so he could look Barty in the eyes as he talked. He didn’t look like he had good news. “Barty, whatever you did, you’re going to have to fix it yourself.”

Barty bit his tongue to not let out a pathetic whimper. 

Regulus knew. Probably not what Barty had done in detail, but that he at least had done something, and that was apparently enough. The disappointed look on Regulus’ face spoke for itself.

“Please, Reg. I didn’t mean to hurt him. I really, really didn’t. And I swear I’ll find a way to make it better, I’ll-” Barty’s voice broke, tears blurring his sight again. How was he supposed to make things better when he had thought he had done the right thing earlier?

“I know,” Regulus said apologetically. “But- If you want his forgiveness, Barty, you’re going to have to fix this on his own. I’m sorry, no matter how much I want to, I can’t help you. Not this time.”

“I’ll fix it, Reg, I will,” Barty insisted. His breathing was ragged and his head was spinning and thudding so much he feared he might faint if he didn't sit down again. “I’ll do anything. I just- He doesn’t want to talk to me. If he’ll just let me talk to him, I’ll fix it. I’ll fix everything.”

“Barty, breathe.”

“I can’t breathe, Regulus. I can’t fucking breathe. Not when he’s- I just- I need to know. Please, just tell me. Is he okay? Or did he at least seem to be okay?” Anything. He’d take anything Regulus could give him. Any sort of comfort or pain. Anything would be better than ignorance.

Regulus stayed quiet for a few seconds, taking in Barty's dishevelled state with remorseful eyes. Then he coldly said, “no. He didn’t look okay. I don’t think he’s okay at the moment.”

Barty had been wrong. Ignorance was better. Way better.

“I- I have to talk to him.” He’d barge into the flat, force Evan to listen, to make him understand. He could make it work. Barty would find a way. He always did.

“No, Barty, don’t.” Regulus stopped his frantic attempt at getting to the door with a hand on his elbow, and though it was careful, it was more than enough to halt him. “You need to give him some space. You could use it too.”

No, Barty protested silently. More separation wouldn’t help with anything. Barty was made for physical touch, for talking nonstop, for constantly being around the people he loves. Time and space would make him go mad. He’d go insane before he could ever make things right between him and Evan.

“Take some time to calm down and let him do the same. A year did me and Evan good, see? Despite last year, I think we’re pretty fine now. All we had to do was wait it out and then talk it through like normal people.”

Regulus might have said more, but in reality, Barty zoned out after Regulus said “a year”. Barty can’t go another year. Isn’t this whole situation they’re stuck in the result of them being separated for a year already? Who knows what chaos they’d create if given another year to let their feelings marinate and develop.

So, no, they can’t go another year without speaking. Not even another week. Barty won’t let it happen. If there’s one thing he established in the months after Evan’s departure to France, it was that he’d never let Evan leave again. That once Barty got him back, Evan would be stuck with Barty forever. The two of them were a package, a deal, a unit. They were meant to be together. One way or the other. In every universe.

Barty didn’t tell Regulus that, instead he only nodded, eyes zoned out on the door handle.

“Okay.” His voice was low and the lack of confidence and attitude was shocking even to himself. In a sudden, Regulus appeared in Barty’s vision again, looking concerned with his brows pulled together. Barty knew it was his way of asking Barty if he was going to be fine. And to be honest, Barty didn’t think he was going to be fine, which he assumed Regulus already knew. Yet, he assuringly nodded yes.

Faking to be okay wasn’t anything new. Not for Barty. Not for Regulus.

And most definitely not for Evan either.

…

Despite wanting to do something, Barty stays in his bed for four days straight, eating nothing but cereal and whatever leftover take-out he can get his hands on. Regulus occasionally pokes his head through the door to Barty’s room, asking if he needs anything. However, Barty is always quick to dismiss him and tell him to go back to being an inconsiderate shit, to which Regulus usually scoffs and slams the door in return.

Barty doesn’t like being mean, but he also only wants to talk to Evan. He’s considered writing a note to Regulus saying he’ll only start talking again if Regulus gets Evan to want to see him again. But Barty also thinks Regulus might just rip the paper and be happy that Barty’s decided to shut up for once. It can go both ways, to be honest.

On the fifth day, Barty finally gets out of the house. Regulus is nowhere to be found, and there’s no more cereal – not the good kind, at least. So Barty gets dressed, goes to the supermarket, fantasies about bumping into Evan, and then goes home again when it doesn’t happen.

It’s a boring walk, and Barty doesn’t really get anything out of it except the cereal box and fresh air. But one of the two has got to affect Barty’s brain in some way or another, because once he gets home, Barty doesn’t immediately fall into bed. 

Maybe it’s the smell that reeks not only from the bed but the whole room in general, or maybe it’s the picture on the fridge featuring the three of them about a year after they met for the first time. They can’t be more than twelve in the photo, looking so young and inexperienced. Evan’s even wearing braces, trying to hide them by smiling with his mouth closed. He used to be insecure about it, and Barty used to crack jokes to try to get Evan to laugh or smile so the brace would show. In Barty’s eyes, Evan needn’t worry about looking foolish. He always thought Evan looked cute.

Picking up his phone, Barty checks the time as if it can somehow make the solution to his issue easier. It doesn’t. 

After a minute of biting his lip contemplatively, a wave of “fuck it” finally washes over in him, and suddenly Barty’s racing into his room, grabbing the nearest somewhat clean t-shirt he can find. He’s not busy in any way. Still, Barty feels like he’s got an important deadline.

Barty’s already halfway down the stairs when he faintly hears the door to the flat slam shut, lock clicking. He’s got nothing with him except his phone, a zip-up shirt he’s only managed to get half on, and his conscience. Hopefully, it’ll be enough.

Barty runs most of the way for several reasons. First of all, it prevents him from thinking too hard about the mistake he’s most likely about to make and accidentally getting cold feet. And second of all, his mind requires it, needing to get rid of the adrenaline rushing through his boiling blood. 

Sprinting down the street feels good. The wind ruffling his hair and clothes feels good. Going so fast he can’t breathe and his muscles ache feels good. 

Thinking about Evan doesn’t.

The people Barty encounters all give way when they spot his running silhouette, and it only spurs him on to go faster. Faster, faster, faster. That way, the regret and remorse can’t catch up with him before it’s too late. Maybe it’s foolish, naive to think Barty can fix it like this, but again, Barty’s running from his feelings and thoughts. He’s running from himself, and therefore he can’t rethink his choices, doesn’t allow himself to.

Though Barty feels like he might die when he reaches his destination, he still wishes the way was longer. Wishes he could take the run again just to postpone it all for a bit longer. 

He could, he knows. Barty could go home, pretend like it never happened, and Evan would never know. The two of them could go back to pretending. 

They could. But Barty won’t let it happen. Not this time.

Opening the door to the stairwell, Barty pathetically wishes he had bought flowers or something else like normal people do when they want to apologise. Perhaps Barty could soothe the situation and simmering anger by offering Evan chocolates in a sappy heart-shaped box. 

Barty stops, wincing at the mental picture. Or no, the more sensible part of his brain comments. Perhaps it’s pretty okay he hasn’t done anything like that. They’re not normal people after all, are they now?

The two of them making up has always included way more swearing and insulting rather than apologising.

Going up the stairs is rough. Not because he just ran, but because he knows that once he knocks on the door, it’ll be too late to turn around. Once Evan realises Barty’s here, there’s no going back. They’ll need to go through another fight. Even if Barty wants to apologise, there’s probably still a few nasty things Evan wants to yell at him. However, Barty will have to find a way to slowly guide their conversation in the right direction.

He doesn’t know how, though. Because apparently, Barty’s either horrible with his words or Evan’s just good at finding the faults and mistakes or both. 

Barty knows he fucked up. Three times. First time was when he was oblivious to Evan’s feelings and hooked up with Regulus, which he doesn’t think can be blamed solely on him. A lot of people made a lot of mistakes that morning. The second time was when he kissed Evan at Potter’s party. That one, Barty can at least admit, wasn’t his finest moment. And the last time was when he asked Evan out. 

If Barty’s honest, he’s not exactly sure where or how he fucked up there. If Evan has feelings for Barty – which Barty’s certain he has – shouldn’t he be ecstatic? Shouldn’t he be jumping at the opportunity?

Of course, Barty can see that he might have fumbled with his words and that showing up uninvited at Evan’s flat wasn’t the best idea. But what else was he supposed to do? As far as he knows, he’s still blocked on Evan’s phone, and after the party, Evan sure as hell wasn’t going to ask him to come over on a random Thursday afternoon.

So, Barty’s nervous. He wants to make things better again, will do anything Evan asks of him, but what if Barty doesn’t succeed? What if he fucks up again? When will he fuck up again? Because he will. Barty knows he will.

Stepping away from the door, Barty lets his hand drop to his side and uncurl. He can’t knock. Doesn’t have the balls to do it. Not when the risk is this big. Not when the risk is losing Evan forever. 

Barty sighs, plummeting down on the stairs with his head in his hands. He misses the time where his and Evan’s friendship wasn’t this complicated, misses the time when Barty didn’t doubt Evan’s love for him. Misses the time back when Barty could sit next to Evan in complete silence and know it was a sign of familiarity and not a sign of drifting apart, breaking up without even being together. 

Barty still isn’t sure what he feels for Evan, isn’t sure if the feelings are friendly or romantic. All he knows is that Barty doesn’t believe in soulmates, but Evan is definitely his. 

He’ll be Evan’s, if Evan wants him in return.

“Barty?”

For a second, Barty thinks it might actually be Evan standing in the open door behind him. However, the clear female voice convinces him it’s not. 

Light illuminates the girl from behind, showing off soft curves and long hair hanging freely around her upper body. A skirt sits low on her hips and, if it were only a few centimetres longer, it would drag along the floor. It doesn’t though, instead showing off the tip of her white-painted toenails. All in all, Barty thinks she looks heaven-sent.

“Oh, shit,” Barty exclaims in a sudden, rushing to get up from the floor. He hadn’t heard the door open. “Dora. I- Fuck. I shouldn’t be here. Don’t bother. I’ll be on my way. Goodbye.”

“He’s not home,” Pandora says, voice as soft as the angel she looks like.

Barty almost trips over his feet as he comes to a halt already halfway down the first flight of stairs. He wants to say he’s unbothered, that he couldn’t care less, but if even Barty himself can tell that he’s lying, he’s not sure wants to know what Pandora can read in his face and posture. In that sense, she’s always scared Barty a bit. Especially with that calming gaze that never fails to make Barty feel like he’s transparent.

To a lot of people, Pandora is a weird whimsical girl with childish hobbies, but to Barty she’s way more. He has a theory that she’s been born in the wrong body, that she was meant to be a goddess or a witch in another universe where everyone worships the ground she walks on. He even thinks she might be a good queen if she ever gets the opportunity.

“Do you want to come inside? Evan won’t be home for another few hours.”

There’s silence for a while, then Barty says, “Thank you.”

Pandora smiles in return, as if Barty’s words were a gift on their own. And she’s too nice to him, considering how much of a fuck-up he is. She’s just always been too pure, too kind-hearted for this world in general. Making his way up the stairs again, Barty can’t help but feel like he’s doing something illegal by stepping into a flat that partly belongs to Evan.

Don’t try to fucking contact me. Not through social media and not in real life.

“Do you want something to drink or eat?” Pandora asks, carefully closing the door behind them. Silently she accepts Barty’s zip-up and hangs it on the coat rack as Barty toes his shoes off. His shoulders are sagging and the rush of adrenaline pumping through his blood only a few minutes ago is now gone.

The Pandora-effect. She doesn’t even have to utter a word and Barty always feels lighter than he has in days. No, weeks, if not months. Maybe even back before Barty and Regulus slept together.

“Thanks, but I’m good.”

Pandora hums lightly before leading way into the living room where she plops down on the couch, motioning for Barty to sit in the armchair opposite. He does. 

“I suppose you came here looking to talk to my brother?”

Barty sighs. He knows damn well that if Pandora asks, he’ll answer, and he has a feeling Pandora knows as well. She could ask for his biggest secret and Barty would offer even more. For her, he’ll split himself open so she can study him underneath a microscope. 

Perhaps it’s the pureness that radiates off of her, but despite being a bit abnormal, Barty would trust her with his life in an instant. If she told him he could fly, Barty would throw himself off a cliff to test it out. Yes, her mind is a chaotic mess to outsiders looking in, even for Barty at first. But now, after years, more and more about her is starting to make sense. She’s more cunning and understanding than people give her credit for. At the same time, she’s poetic and logical, using both her feelings and brain to understand the world. She’s somewhere in between being a therapist and a scientist. 

Barty definitely prefers her to the woman Regulus calls his therapist. With her antiquated fashion style and pimpled neck, Barty refuses to talk to her. He’s not interested in being infected with whatever skin condition he has, and whatever kind words Regulus can utter about her won’t change his decision. He’s also in no need of therapy. Call him biassed, but Barty’s not going anywhere near her if he can avoid it. 

“Yes, I know Evan said he didn’t want me showing up here, but I had to. I have to talk to him, to tell him I’m sorry and to make him understand.”

“You don’t have to prove yourself to me, Barty,” Pandora says, tilting her head as if the angle can give her a better view of what might be happening in Barty’s head. She has pulled her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around herself, making her look like a ball dressed in all white. If anyone else did it, Barty would’ve frowned at them, but it’s Pandora. Pandora can do whatever she wants to. “I know you’ve never meant to hurt anyone.”

Her words sting. Not only are they true, but they also confirm Barty’s suspicion that he’s in Pandora-therapy.

“I just,” Barty begins, stopping himself as he realises he's about to defend himself again. It’s all he does, isn’t it? And it’s just as much to convince the others as it is to convince himself. Across from him, Pandora smiles in a manner that makes Barty question if she can actually read his mind.

“You just?”

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Barty confesses with a sigh. He feels tired, wants to hop onto the couch and curl up into a ball right to her, so she can stroke his hair and tell him everything is going to be fine. Pandora doesn’t lie, so if he could get her to say it, maybe it would come true.

“The fewest people know what they’re doing. Everyone is blinded by some aspect of their humanity. However, in my eyes, you might be one of the most seeing people I’ve ever encountered. So, I do think you know what you’re doing. I just think you’re afraid to admit it to yourself.”

Pandora shrugs carelessly, letting her chin rest against her left knee as if she’s tired too. For a few moments, Barty just observes her, wishing he somehow knew how to read her. Has she spent the last couple of days waiting for an opportunity to use that phrase, or did she come up with three seconds ago? Perhaps she was possessed by the goddess she was supposed to have been?

“Panda, I love you, but if I knew what I was doing, Evan wouldn’t hate me.”

“He doesn’t hate you. He wants to, but he really doesn’t. He tells you he doesn’t want you to show up here, but if he’s being honest with himself, it’s the only thing he really wants.” 

“So he likes me?”

“The word like doesn’t quite describe what he feels for you. But you know that, though, don’t you? Once again, you’re just too scared to be honest with yourself.”

She knows him too well. 

Knows Evan too well too.

“Maybe,” Barty says. That’s all he dares to confess to now. Who knows what hell he’ll bring upon them if he lets it all out too soon. “But unfortunately, that’s not the scary part, I think.”

Pandora’s brows furrow a bit, looking like she’s finally hit a wall she can’t break down immediately.

“Evan’s feelings for me have never scared me – I don’t think so at least. It’s never made me uncomfortable. He has never made me uncomfortable. It’s something else.” Barty’s not sure he understands what leaves his mouth anymore. Pandora looks like she gets it, though. Like she’s having her own conversation with Barty’s brain and Barty’s just awkwardly present in the back corner.

“You’re afraid of your own feelings.” Barty’s certain. Pandora’s witch, making Barty’s blood run cold and boil at the same time. “When you say you don’t know what you’re doing, you actually mean you don’t know what you’re feeling.”

Barty can’t bring himself to look up from his lap where his hands nervously twist around each other like two snakes tied together at the ends.

“Well, you’re in luck then,” Pandora continues, suddenly straightening her back as a smile finds her lips again. She looks happy like this, helping others, and Barty thinks that no matter what she ends up doing with her future, she’ll be working with people. She’ll be helping those who need it. She’ll accomplish wonders. “I’ll help you find out.”

“How?”

“Well. Describe your feelings for him to me.”

“Evan?” Barty asks. Pandora has got to know he’s aware it’s Evan she’s referring to, still she nods reassuringly. “Isn’t that like…weird? When he’s your brother and everything.”

“It’s only weird if you want it to be weird,” Pandora states matter-of-factly, and Barty mentally shrugs. When it comes down to it, he’ll believe whatever she says. Even if it doesn’t make sense to him.

Looking down to his lap again, Barty lets himself really dig into the back of his head, hoping to just find a box labelled “my feelings for Evan Rosier”. He doesn’t; instead, he somehow makes his way into the middle of a labyrinth, where every way is a dead end.

“I don’t know. Evan’s my best friend, you know. He’s…just always been there, I suppose.” Despairingly Barty throws his hands into the air, feeling even more hopeless than before. “I love him. I just don’t know if I love him like that, if you get what I mean.”

Sensing he needs a push in the right direction, Pandora breaks in. “Have you ever thought about kissing him?”

“Uh,” Barty stutters, feeling different answers instantly crawl up his throat and lay themselves on his tongue, ready to come out if he’ll let them. Fuck, yes! Well, I’ve done more than just thinking, have I not? The real question is when have I not? “Yeah. But like, who hasn’t thought about kissing their best friends at least once?”

At that Pandora raises a suggestive eyebrow, causing Barty to gulp. Despite having so many answers to choose from, he apparently chose the wrong one.

“Have you ever thought about kissing me?” Coming from everyone else, it would’ve sound flirtatious, but coming from Pandora, it just sounds curious.

“No?”

Pandora raises her other eyebrow, and Barty quickly continues, fumbling over his words as he tries to make it better.

“I love you too, Panda, I've just never seen you as anything beyond a sister. It’s got nothing to do with you at all.”

Pandora laughs. It’s an easy sound, and it makes Barty relax a bit. After a few seconds, Pandora says something again.

“So you’ve thought about kissing Evan, but not me?” Barty gets the implied point even before she continues. “I though you said everyone has thought about kissing their best friends at least once. Best friends, as in plural. Are there other friends you’ve wanted to kiss, or was your statement misleading on purpose to keep yourself from understanding your true feelings?”

“There’s more,” Barty swiftly answers, only realising how bad it sounds afterwards. Pandora is going to think he’s thought about fucking more than half the friend group – not that he hasn’t, but he’s not sure he wants Pandora of all people to know that. “I- Okay, don’t tell her. But Cas is pretty. I’ve thought about it once. Or twice. But not more than that!”

Pandora giggles, and Barty feels his own cheeks heat. He’s starting to regret opening up.

“Is it different then?” she asks, to which Barty frowns. “When you think about kissing Dorcas, is it different from kissing Evan?”

“Oh, yes!” Nodding, Barty leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “It’s very different. Kissing Cas would be…”

“Fun?”

“Yeah, exciting, almost – not sexually exciting, though. I love her, but she’s a lesbian and I respect that. Kissing Cas would be thrilling because it’s so unexpected. Kind of weird. You know, I’m just sort of curious. Like, what would it be like? What would it feel like?”

“What about Evan?” Pandora urges. She’s moved again and is now sitting on the floor in front of the couch with her arms folded on top of the coffee table. Her chin rests on the back of her hand, and her eyes are solely trained on Barty’s face.

Barty opens his mouth, wanting to answer, but no words come out. What would kissing Evan be like? He knows what it’s like, has felt Evan’s lips against his own and wants them there again. And again. And again. 

But why?

Why does he want to kiss Evan?

“I- I want to kiss Evan, I do. But…for no reason. Just…because. It’s always so easy with him. He’s so easy to be around, and sometimes I just want to lean in and kiss him. Sometimes just on his forehead. I don’t know what to say, Dora, he’s just very kissable sometimes.”

Barty shrugs for the hundredth time that day, keeping his gaze anywhere but on Pandora as she comes with her conclusion, her ruling.

“You want to kiss him for the sake of kissing him?”

“Yeah,” Barty exhales. “That describes it pretty well. Oh! And he’s pretty.” Very fucking pretty.

Pandora shifts again, and Barty carefully diverts his gaze back to her. She’s smiling into her hands now, giggling as if she knows something Barty doesn’t. It’s frustrating, yet pleasant to see her take this whole conversation so lightly. She somehow manages to tell Barty to relax with nothing but her relaxed composure.

“What?” Barty asks, feeling his own giddy smile threatening to show.

“Oh, nothing,” Pandora grins in return, lifting and dropping her shoulders in a way that implies it’s indeed not nothing. “What about Regulus? Do you still want to kiss him?”

“Fuck,” Barty curses, something suddenly dawning on him. “I completely forgot about him.”

Once again, he’s gazing at his hands still tangled together in front of him. They’ve continued to fidget, but now it’s more to keep him entertained rather than his anxiety. 

“Do I want to kiss Reg? I suppose I do, yeah,” Barty admits. There was a time when kissing Regulus was all he could think about. A time when the opportunity to see Regulus, to talk to him, would make his heart speed and his hands sweaty. After that, there was a night – a single one – where he got to try it out. Got to kiss Regulus as much as he wanted to, only for it to be taken away from him the morning after. Since then, Barty’s thought about kissing Regulus once in a while, but not as much as he used to. Something about the betrayal had put his feelings to an end.

Realising he’s stalling, Barty quickly starts talking again, before Pandora can ask. “Again, it’s different from imagining kissing Cas or Ev. It’s- this is going to sound bad, but it’s more of a…sexual context. Like half-memories, half-fantasies. Like a step before making out.”

Pandora nods, eyes narrowed as if she tries to see through his words and directly into his soul instead. 

“Okay, let’s for a moment forget I’m Evan’s sister,” Pandora chuckles, making Barty snort in return. If he’s honest, he’s already dreading her next words. “But you want to kiss Evan without tongue, and Regulus with tongue?”

Barty presses his lips together. “Yes. But no. I definitely want to kiss Evan with tongue too, and I suppose I wouldn’t mind kissing Regulus without tongue. Like a peck.”

“Okay,” Pandora says, and Barty really doesn’t get what she concludes from his waffle.

“Yeah.” 

“Would you say what you feel for them is identical?”

“No, not at all,” Barty gets out before suddenly stopping himself, frowning again. “Or. Well, things have changed a bit lately actually.”

“How so?”

“A year ago when I fancied Regulus, I was constantly nervous around him, practically shitting my pants. I’d get excited whenever he tagged along, and I did everything to impress him. I wanted him to like me. It was all I could think about, Dora. I would lay awake at night, trying to come up with jokes just so I could tell them to him the next day.”

“And Evan?” Pandora asks. Without Barty’s notice, she has lifted her head from her hands, straightening up again, and now she looks like she might be figuring out the core of Barty as he rambles on. 

“I,” Barty stutters, grimacing to himself. He never really thought about Evan back then. “I couldn’t stop making a fool of myself to try to get Regulus’ attention, and when it didn’t work, when he hurt me or indirectly rejected me, I’d turn to Evan. I loved him – still do and always will, by the way. I just…I guess I took him for granted. He was constantly there for me. He’d make me feel loved and seen, and he did it so easily. So flawlessly. And yet, I just ignored him in favour of Regulus.”

“You knew Evan loved you, but wasn’t so sure with Regulus?”

“Yes, but,” Barty objects, desperately fumbling for the words. “I knew Regulus cared deeply for me, I just didn’t…”

“You weren’t a hundred percent sure?”

“I wasn’t,” Barty confirms. Just like Barty has always loved Regulus, Regulus has always loved Barty. He’s just never been very loud about it, not like Evan was, and Barty takes it he’s scared to read the situation and their friendship wrong. What if Regulus didn’t like him? What if he only pretended to because he had no one else?

What if no one actually cares for him and Barty’s just a naive attention-seeking loser?

“I’ll come back to this in a second. Promise. But you said things have changed. That your feelings aren't what they used to be.”

“Yeah,” Barty says, shaking his head and forcefully pushing the hurtful thoughts away. He’s fine, and he’s just overthinking things. He’s no longer living under the same roof as his dad; there’s no reason to doubt his friends' love for him. “Once you and Evan left for France, I think I realised that he was gone. Like, gone for real. He wasn’t there anymore. Things weren’t easy like they used to be with Evan around. I just fucking missed him, missed the way he made me feel safe. If Evan was next to me, things would be okay.”

Pandora smiles as if she finds Barty’s words endearing, and Barty licks his lips before continuing.

“And now, he's back. I thought everything would go back to being fine and easy, but they never did. Instead, now I’m nervous whenever I see him. It’s just like how it was with Regulus, except it’s just Evan this time. He’s mad at me, and I just want him to be okay. I want to be able to make him smile again. I want to do everything right just for him.”

Barty sighs despairingly, running a hand through his hair, frustration welling up inside him. Why does love have to be this complicated? Across from him, Pandora hums suspiciously, tilting her head and looking endlessly speculative.

“What?” Barty asks, brows furrowed.

“Would you say what you feel for Evan is the same as what you felt for Regulus?” She asks it as if it’s a trap. Like Barty can answer anything and she’ll still have predicted it.

“Yes,” he answers because it’s not a hard question. 

“And still,” Pandora adds, looking almost apologetically, “you describe your feelings for them so differently.”

“But- what?” Barty thinks his brain might have stopped working, or perhaps it’s Pandora who has stopped working this time. Perhaps she’s lost her marbles, gone insane, and now Barty’s the one looking like a fool, trying to get her words to make sense.

“When you talk about Evan, you talk about wanting him to be okay, wanting to see his smile. However, when you talk about Regulus, you sound like you’re describing an anxiety attack and not a crush. Are you sure you really liked Regulus like that?”

“What do you mean?” Barty exclaims, confusion clouding his mind. “Of course, I liked Regulus! I was practically obsessed.”

“Yeah, you were obsessed with getting him to like you, that’s obvious, but did you like him?” Pandora interrupts and suddenly Barty’s head is empty. He’s got no answer or objections. “Did you love Regulus romantically?”

Did he?

He wants to say yes because of course he loved Regulus. The nervousness was a symptom of his crush on Regulus, the need to impress too.

“Barty,” Pandora says. Her voice is soft and careful, like she’s afraid she’ll hurt him if she’s too rough. “Love isn’t painful.”

“I know,” Barty says breathlessly. His throat feels dry, and he’s afraid the armchair might disappear beneath him. “I know.” Pandora looks sceptical, like she’s once again trying to figure out if Barty’s lying to himself. At this point, Barty doesn’t even know himself.

“When I look at Lily I do get nervous. But it’s because I find her attractive and think she’s sweet. Not because I question her love for me. I don’t stress about trying to impress her, because I know she’ll love me anyway.”

Barty’s not sure he’s breathing. He wants to protest, wants to go for another run for the sole purpose of adrenaline filling the void in his head. The silence is too loud.

“I know,” Barty insists. The two words are all he can manage, so repeats them in the hope that they’ll be enough to protect him. “I know.”

“What you described about your crush on Regulus sounded uncomfortable. Love’s not supposed to be uncomfortable. It’s supposed to make you light up with a feeling of happiness. Even before Lily and I got together, happiness was the major feeling. Not fear.” 

From her spot on the floor, Pandora can look up at him even though his head is lowered. Her eyes are dilated and though her words cut through to Barty’s heart, she still looks comforting. Like there’s still only one thing she really wants, and that is to help. 

“Love can be easy, Barty. It doesn’t have to be hard feelings and insane gestures. It can be sweet and silent. It can be small pecks that don't have to mean anything. Kind glances and careful touches. The words “I love you” said out loud because the two of you are okay with the following silence.”

“Evan,” Barty says, because finally he seems to understand where Pandora is going.

I loved him – still do and always will, by the way.

“I’m not saying it is love in that way. I’m just saying it would make sense with what you’ve told me.” Pandora lifts her hands in surrender. “Perhaps you’ve just always loved him, but only realised it when you thought you lost him. The nervousness you’re feeling now – different from what you felt for Regulus – is because you love him. Not because you want him to love you.”

“No,” Barty objects, having finally found his voice again. He can follow Pandora’s thoughts, but only so far. There’s still things that don’t add up. “That can’t be true. If I love Evan romantically, it’s a new development. If I loved him like back then, I would’ve known.”

“How?”

“What?”

“How would you have known?” Pandora asks. However, when Barty still looks as confused as before, she elaborates. “You said you’ve always loved Evan. How can you know it wasn’t a romantic type of love?”

“Because,” Barty stutters before he even has an answer. It couldn’t be. Barty would've known. Instinctively he should’ve realised, shouldn’t he? “Because- love is supposed to be like a rollercoaster right? It’s supposed to be exciting. What I felt for Evan wasn’t exciting. It was calm and safe and-”

“Easy?” Pandora finishes for him, and Barty once again has the feeling he has stepped directly into a neatly planned trap. Taking a deep sigh, Pandora momentarily looks away. Once her gaze returns, remorse shines in her eyes. “Barty. You don’t have to earn love. Love can’t be too easy.”

Barty opens his mouth but no sounds come out. His head is a mess of words and phrases being repeated. Love can’t be too easy. Fucking hell, Barty, I’m in love with you! Did you love Regulus romantically? I’m not making that fucking mistake again. Get out!

“Love is unconditional, Barty. You’ll always love Evan no matter what, won’t you?”

Yes.

“What did he do to deserve that?”

Nothing.

”Is it then fair that you have to earn his love in return?”

A part of him instinctively says yes.

When he was younger, he had to work for acceptance. If he wanted his father’s approval, he’d have to earn it. Everything had a price. By being a good son or getting good grades, he’d be offered an “i’m proud of you” or even a rare smile. Only on nights when his father looked in his direction, Barty could go to bed and feel content. Only then.

“I can’t tell you what you feel or what you felt, but maybe I can help open your eyes to things you can’t see yourself.” Barty shifts his gaze back to Pandora, who sends him a warm smile, silently telling him that she’s unconditionally proud. That she understands that it might hurt to dig up things like this, but that she’ll be here for him because she loves him too.

There’s a lot of people who love Barty. They all care for him, and Barty did nothing to deserve it. Yet he’s still worthy of their love.

Barty laughs humorlessly.

“I’m fucked, aren’t I?”

“No, you’re not,” Pandora says, offering up another careful smile “You’ve just been misled for a very long time.”

After that silence spreads between them, Pandora using it to study Barty and Barty using it to think. After a minute of contemplation, Barty speaks up.

“But do I love him, Dora?”

“I wish I could tell you, Barty, but I don’t know. Just tell him how you feel. Tell him what you told me. You don’t need to know everything now. The two of you can figure it out together later on.”

It’s not the end, Barty realises. He can continue to doubt his own and Evan’s feelings, because it’s what his father has taught him, but it won’t fix anything. Pandora has helped him as much as she can, but from now on, it’s all up to Barty – and maybe, Evan, if he wants to be a part of it. Barty’ll have to explore his feelings instead of oppressing them, he’ll have to relearn everything he knows about love. He’ll fail and he’ll succeed. And he won’t find the answers tomorrow. But maybe one day he will.

“I have to go,” Barty suddenly exclaims, practically jumping up from the armchair and shooting into the hallway. “Thank you for everything, but I have to go. Now.”

“Of course,” Pandora says, and Barty can hear the smile in her voice. It’s contagious.

One by one, Barty sticks his feet into his shoes, wriggling his ankles in hopes that he can get his shoes on without untying them. He doesn’t want to waste any more time than he apparently already has.

“Goodbye, you lovely, lovely creature,” Barty yells, embracing Pandora the second she comes sauntering into the hallway. She’s small in his arms and Barty easily lifts her up, doing a single spin before putting her down again. “I love you so, so much. I don’t think you realise.”

Blowing her a kiss, Barty rushes to the door, unlocking it with one hand and opening it with the other.

“I love you too,” Pandora shouts back, casually leaning against the doorway into the living room as if she wasn’t about to make Barty cry only a few seconds ago. 

She doesn’t just look like an angel, she is an angel, Barty thinks. A fond smile sits on his lips and even after hurrying out of the flat, it stays on his face.

Despite feeling like his insides have been shaken, Barty’s somewhat calm. His mind is a chaos, but there’s patterns and order in the mess, so Barty doesn’t freak out. Not completely, at least. He’s got a lot to do. Flowers don’t buy themselves, and sometimes words won’t come out the way you want them to, so there’s a lot of places to start. Still, Barty doesn’t doubt.

He’ll win Evan over. No matter what it takes.