Vulnerable
Regulus woke up in Barty and Evan’s room, curled up on the edge of the bed. Barty and Evan weren’t in the bed, but the lights were on in the bathroom, the shower running. The television was on, playing a rerun of The Simpsons. Regulus groaned and sat up, running a hand through his hair, flattened from the side he slept on. Suddenly, the shower stopped. A few minutes later, Evan walked out of the bathroom, only a towel on his waist. That wasn’t surprising. He tended to walk around shirtless back at the apartment. What was surprising was Barty walking out behind him, looking completely refreshed. Regulus narrowed his eyes at them.
“Were you two…?” Regulus asked suspiciously, pointing between them. Barty laughed.
“Nah. No. I was brushing my teeth,” he said, grinning ferally. It didn’t really change Regulus’s suspicions.
“...While he was in the shower?” Regulus asked, suspicious, as Evan walked past him, digging through his suitcase for some clothes.
Barty shrugged. “Sure.” He could hear the towel drop behind him. Again, not surprising, considering Evan had absolutely no care back at the apartment. What was surprising, was Barty’s eyes flicking behind Regulus, to where Evan was changing.
“Yeah no,” Regulus said, standing up. “I’m done. I don’t really care what you guys do when I’m not here, but I don’t want to be around when you do it.” Regulus just walked out the door, Barty and Evan laughing and shouting their goodbyes as he left.
Regulus stopped by his room, only to change into jeans and a black Rolling Stones t-shirt. Then, he went down to the lobby for the hotel breakfast buffet. He didn’t feel like going out and trying to find somewhere good in a city he wasn’t familiar with.
The second he walked into the buffet, Sirius stormed up to him. Regulus just sighed.
“What do you want, Sirius?” Regulus asked, boredom seeping into his voice. Sirius looked angry, confused maybe. Regulus couldn’t be sure. He didn’t really care, either.
“Last night. You complimented me,” Sirius said, sounding confused. His hands were fidgeting with the hem of his David Bowie t-shirt that Regulus was pretty sure he had owned since before he left.
“I did,” Regulus said simply. It was a factual statement. It wasn’t something worth denying.
“Why?” Sirius asked, bewildered.
Regulus forced away the smirk that threatened to crawl up his face. “We’re coworkers, Sirius. Coworkers can compliment each other.”
Emotion flickered through Sirius’s eyes. “But we’re not just coworkers, Reg. We’re bro-”
“No, Sirius,” Regulus said shortly. “We’re not. We haven’t been for a long fucking time.” Regulus walked away, out of the buffet. He was hungry, sure, but he’d rather starve than spend time in Sirius’s presence.
There were interviews today. Three of them in a row, starting at noon. Regulus would have to get ready, pick out an outfit, spend time with Sirius, spend time with Sirius, spend time with Sirius. This was going to be exhausting. He decided to turn off his notifications on his phone. He didn’t want anyone to reach out to him.
He put on some music, from some trans pop punk artist that Pandora had sent him. He liked the music enough to listen to it, but found it hard to remember the artist’s name. He hummed along to the verse, unable to remember the words. He sang the chorus though, laying down and smiling as he sang.
“It's my mind that I'm having to fight with
A party that I wasn't invited to
And they know what they know now
I'm still waiting to find out”
Regulus heard knocking at his door, but chose to ignore it. When the knocking didn’t stop, he sighed, pressing pause on his music, and standing up to answer the door. He glared as he opened the door, to see James, looking anxious.
“Oh. James. Hi,” Regulus said. Very eloquent. James smiled sheepishly, sighing, relieved.
“Reg. Hi,” James said before hugging Regulus tightly. He kissed the top of Regulus’s head. “I was worried about you.”
“Why?” Regulus asked, furrowing his brow.
“Sirius told me about what happened in the buffet,” James said softly. “I kept texting you, but you didn’t respond. And frankly, love, I didn’t trust your emotional state after that.”
Regulus chuckled, smiling a bit. Suddenly, the words hit him, making him a little confused. “You have my number?” He had made the continuous, and awful mistake of forgetting to give James his number.
James smiled awkwardly, running a hand through his messy hair. “When you joined the tour, we got an email with the phone numbers of you and your bandmates.”
Regulus just stared at him. “And you never thought to tell me? Or text me??”
“I didn’t want you to think I was weird!”
Regulus just shook his head and laughed, wrapping his arms around James’s neck, pulling him down to kiss him. “You are weird. But I still like you.”
James stayed with Regulus while he got ready for the interview, putting on the gorgeous black dress shirt that James had bought for him the other day, the one with silver buttons and green thread. James seemed to approve, if the way he looked at Regulus was anything to go by. As Regulus tied up his curls into a short ponytail, he saw James dialing a number on the room phone.
“What are you doing?” Regulus asked, pulling his curls tightly into the pony. James looked away from the phone, to smile at Regulus.
“Sirius said you didn’t have breakfast. I’m ordering you room service,” he said, sweetly, before turning back to the phone and waiting until someone picked up.
“Yes, hello,” he said. “I’d like to order room service.” James nodded and hummed. “Yes, I’d like to order a black coffee, blueberry muffins-” he seemed to have been cut off, nodding. “Oh. Blueberry pancakes, then. And an apple danish. Yes. Thank you.” James put down the phone, turning back to Regulus with a grin.
“You didn’t have to,” Regulus said, smiling.
“But I wanted to. And you need to eat,” James said warmly, gently grabbing Regulus’s arm and pulling the smaller man into his chest.
“We don’t have time, James. I have an interview at noon,” Regulus said, still smiling. James stuck his tongue out at him.
“Well I suppose they’ll have to wait,” James grinned, and Regulus loved him.
Wait.
No.
Love wasn’t right. It couldn’t be. After all, Regulus couldn’t know what it was. He had never loved someone romantically before. Almost every tattoo on his skin was a family member, or a friend, or an ex who left him. Nobody he had dated and loved. Regulus had just resigned himself to that fact, something that was just that. A fact. Something that was eternally true, and would never change. Every relationship would end before it could reach the point of love, and Regulus would be forever alone.
And then there was James. James, who was warm, and silly, and shining. James, who tried endlessly to make him laugh. James, who cared, far more than anyone Regulus had ever known. James, who seemed to be infinitely kind and caring, always there for him for reasons Regulus couldn’t understand. James, who couldn’t seem to help the way people were utterly drawn to him. James, who touched like the gentle warmth of spring, and smiled like the sun.
Maybe he did love James. He couldn’t be sure. After all, he didn’t know love. Still, James seemed to be one of the few things that was real. And Regulus couldn’t help but cling onto him.
James sat with him as he ate the blueberry pancakes that were delivered to his room. It might be his favorite breakfast now. It reminded him a little bit of James. Regulus didn’t bother saying goodbye when he left for the interview. He was afraid that if he opened his mouth, he would say something stupid that he would regret. Something he wouldn’t really mean.
The first interview was with a young woman named Zoe Huang. She was sweet, too sweet for journalism. Regulus hoped she’d survive the industry long enough to be rich and happy. He highly doubted it though. She asked them questions about the tour, how it was going, if they had any plans for after it ended. Regulus answered every question with an overly sweet smile. He silently wished her luck before he left.
The second interview was with a man named Adam Ryans, who was, frankly, an asshole. Regulus had the misfortune of seeing how he treated his assistants, yelling at them about his coffee, his dry cleaning, his notes. After being so rude to them, he sat down with a smile that oozed charisma. Regulus couldn’t help the scowl that seemed to linger on his face. He asked the most irritating questions, overly personal, desperate for a scandal. Regulus was sure to answer them, clipped and vague.
The third interview was the worst. A middle aged woman with cold, cruel eyes. She didn’t bother with the politeness, false or otherwise, a scowl across her face. She was organized, stiff. She sat straight, her graying hair tied tight behind her head. Patricia Kane. A renowned bitch.
“Let’s cut to the chase, shall we?” she said, less a question than a statement, her hands folded on her desk. “You’re Serpentine, and you’re currently on tour with renowned indie rock band, the Marauders. However, what is there to know about you? Let’s address some rumors that have been floating around about you.”
“Mr. Crouch-”
“You can call me Barty,” he grinned, but Regulus could see how fake it was. How hard his teeth were grinding.
“Mr. Crouch,” she said coldly. “Is it true that you are the denounced criminal son of British politician, and former law enforcement officer, Bartemius Crouch Sr.?”
Barty snorted, his laughter cold and sharp. Regulus knew how often Barty had lied on the subject of his last name, claiming he’d never heard of the man, or that it was his mother’s maiden name, with no connection to his father at all. As far as Regulus was aware, no one outside the band knew.
“That asshole? Fuck, no,” Barty laughed sharply. “No, it’s just a coincidence. I happened to have a single mother, so I have her maiden name.”
Patricia narrowed her eyes at him. “Then explain the Jr. at the end of your name?”
Barty frowned. “You must be mistaken. I’m just Barty Crouch. No Jr. necessary.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Honestly, I’m glad he’s not my dad. I mean, the guy is cruel-” Regulus knew that all too well. Countless times, Barty had knocked on Regulus’s window, beaten and bruised, and whispering angrily about how someday he would leave. Regulus remembered praying that he would. “He’s known for being a homophobic ass-”
“You have a problem with his viewpoints?” Patricia asked coldly. Barty just snorted. He hadn’t really stopped laughing.
“Yeah, I do,” Barty said, snarling.
“Why is that?”
Barty laughed again. “Well, I’m very gay, you see, and I don’t really support people who think that I don’t deserve to exist.”
Patricia’s gaze got colder. “Ah… well, there are many who don’t support… your kind. Frankly, it’s a bit unnatural. I don’t see the issue with Crouch Sr.’s viewpoints.”
Barty snarled, glaring daggers at her. “The issue is that he thinks that ‘my kind’ don’t deserve to exist, simply because we love differently than him. And even if I wasn’t so ridiculously queer, it makes shit sense to despise a group of people for who they love. Hating any group of people for anything outside of their control is, frankly, ridiculous.”
“Well it’s not outside of your control, is it, Mr. Crouch?”
“Yes, it is,” Barty seethed. “Nobody decides to be gay, just like nobody decides to be straight. I didn’t wake up one day and decide I like dick!” Barty laughed coldly. “Nothings going to change that, by the way. I’m gay, and that’s not going to fucking change.”
“Mr. Crouch, please sit down-” Patricia said as Barty stood up, laughing madly. He looked insane. That was how Regulus could tell that he was furious.
“No!” Barty said, running a shaky hand through his hair. “No, I did not come here to be disrespected, and I will not just sit here and take it!” Again. The word lingered in Regulus’s mind. He won’t sit and take it again. Regulus stood up, shaking.
Barty didn’t say anything else. He just stormed away, Regulus at his heels. He chased him out to the parking lot, where Barty climbed into the driver's seat of the rental van. It wasn’t quite as comfortable as the one they had at home, but it would do. Regulus climbed into the passenger's seat, placing a hand on his shoulder. Barty covered his face with his hands. Regulus could just barely hear him sobbing. He was a quiet crier. He never wanted it to be seen. Too vulnerable. Regulus knew the feeling.
“Fuck, I hate having my name attached to that asshole,” Barty laughed, a little maniacally. “I hate him so much, and I hate that people can guess, and I hate that he hated me, and I hate that ma loves him for some fucking reason.” Barty placed his hands behind his neck and scratched, pulled. He just kept scratching, until Regulus grabbed his hands.
“Hey,” Regulus said. “Stop. You’re okay. You’re free.” Barty’s eyes were wide, scared. Regulus opened his arms, and Barty collapsed into them, sobbing. Regulus wasn’t the best for this. He had too many issues that he wasn’t sure how to solve, but he could hold over until Evan got there. And that seemed to be enough for Barty, clinging to him as he sobbed.