Evan Rosier knows he’s a troubled kid. He knows because of his constantly dropping grades and impossible behaviour. He knows because his teachers tell him, and his parents punish him. He knows because of the looks strangers send him and the harsh words his classmates direct at him.
Evan is never enough; he’s never good at anything, and that’s just how it has always been.
He is a failure, a lazy teenager with far too low ambitions, and his father hates him for it. Evan, though, has learned not to care. After all these years, you kind of just get used to it: the disappointed sighs, whispered insults, and violent discussions.
There was a time when Evan couldn’t find peace with never achieving goals other people set for him. There was a time when he tried his hardest and fell to the bottom of the pit, harsh and swift. And though people laughed when he failed, Evan couldn’t get enough of the rush when he almost succeeded. The outstretched hands and encouraging chants. Hopeful eyes and beginning smiles. Evan loved it. He loved when his dad would say “that was better” and try to hide his proud smile behind a neutral expression but failing. He loved it when his mother would laugh – not at him, but with him – and stroke him over the head. Evan loved to impress.
But the high never lasted.
The expectations rose or Evan fell. It didn’t matter which, just that no matter how much Evan tried, he was never able to reach the standards, only just grace it before he fell, and the bar raised. “Yes” became “no” and “can” became “cannot”. Friendly eyes lost their sparkle, and beckoning hands started pushing.
Evan doesn’t know when he stopped trying completely, but at the certain point, he was at his life’s worst. He had no reason to wake up in the morning because there was no way he could ever satisfy his parents’ and everyone he knew’s expectations. So, he started drinking.
Sometimes he still drinks, but it has gotten better. Evan might still be just as useless and ambitionless – sometimes he wonders how he ever became a Slytherin in the first place – but once in a while Evan actually enjoys life.
Drinking his problems away led to a whole lot of problems, but it also ensured one good thing.
Barty Crouch Jr.
Barty Crouch Jr. isn’t good. Evan will never claim he is, because that would be a lie. He’s a mess, he’s cruel and insane. He’s spiteful and will never drop a grudge. No, Barty isn’t good – not even remotely.
But to Evan...
To Evan, Barty is the best thing ever.
One night – where both of them were drunk and probably also a bit high – Barty had walked into Evan’s life with his back straightened, eyes blurry from alcohol, and a shit-eating grin on his face that showed off his crooked teeth. He had muttered something unintelligible and handed Evan a half-smoked cigarette. Back then Evan hadn’t known who Barty were, hadn’t known about his issues, and even if had known, he wouldn’t have cared since he didn’t care for a lot at the given time.
Barty had been a complete stranger, and Evan hadn’t even looked at him twice, but after that first night they had met, there was no going back ever again.
The two of them found each other at a dark place they never thought they’d escape, a place they still haven’t escaped, but they created a light source in the dark. A flickering and creepy flame lit by a broken lighter, and in the dim light, they slowly – over time – saw each other’s faces, saw each other’s pain and flaws. Things they’d never get a chance to right or get rid of, ugly sides of themselves even they didn’t know of. But despite all of it, they ignited a light, a flame of hope. They burned down who they were before each other and built up new people from the ashes. It was still the same flesh and bone, but a new combination.
Barty Crouch Jr. walked into Evan’s life, far, far, far from good, but changed it for the better, nonetheless.
He grabbed Evan’s hand in the dark and pulled him – not out into light, but further into the darkness, and maybe it should’ve been frightening, but this time had Evan someone to cling too as he dived into the shadows, someone who wouldn’t let go of him, someone who didn’t have unreachable standards for him, someone who called himself Evan’s friend, someone Evan called his friend.
So far, Evan only knew one type of darkness: utter blackness, but Barty showed him that there were nuances. He showed Evan that you could paint with more than one shade of black, showed him black was used for more than pain and anger.
Barty didn’t improve Evan’s lifestyle; he simply gave him a reason to live.
And for that, Evan owes him everything.
Because with Barty, Evan was gifted more than the will to live, he was given a friend and a soulmate, someone to go through life with.
Evan knows that no matter what changes in his life now, he won’t ever let go of Barty’s hand. Whether the boy wants to or not, he’s stuck with Evan, forced to escort Evan through life, because the truth is that Evan can’t picture his life without Barty in it anymore. Without Barty, he isn’t complete and never will be.
Mayb in a few years, Evan won’t be talking to the same people as he is now, maybe he’ll have new friends, Evan doesn’t know. But he does know one thing: Barty will still be by his side, his hand still firm in Evan’s.
Maybe Evan will never leave the darkness, maybe he’ll always suffer a bit from memories and “what ifs”, broken promises and a lost childhood, but Evan is okay with that. Barty is there with him, like Evan is there with Barty. Barty will be there to stop Evan when he tried to drown his feelings in alcohol and Evan will be there to prevent Barty from losing his temper.
Barty is Evan’s best friend, and Evan is Barty’s.
That's why Evan doesn’t slip into his own bed again when he realises Barty’s empty.
It’s nearing three am, and Evan has so far slept undisturbed like the rest of the boys in the dorm. His bladder wakes him, and after using the bathroom real quick, Evan loafs back into the dorm, hoping to fall asleep quickly again.
His half-closed eyes, though, catches sight of the empty bed, and Evan instantly gives up on sleeping, knowing damn well he won’t close an eye before he knows if Barty is okay.
It’s crazy how quickly Evan’s heart picks up its pace once he thinks of Barty. It doesn’t even have to be anything serious like Barty’s health and mental stability. It can be a sly smirk, a stupid comment, or a flip of his hair. Practically everything Barty does is precious to Evan’s fragile and hopeless, little heart. Whenever it sees him, it leaps in Evan’s chest, chanting hi repeatedly like a lost puppy.
Snoring fills the room, and Evan decides to focus on that instead of his heart as he tries to figure out where Barty could possibly be. The common room isn’t a bad guess since Barty likes the couches, but if he’s up worrying at nearly three am, there’s no way he’d risk being found so easily.
A light breeze hits Evan frown behind, drawing attention to the fact that it’s colder in the dorm than normal. The wind catches Evan’s hair, playing softly with it as Evan turns around and locks his gaze on the slightly open window.
Bingo.
Lately, because it’s summer and the weather is nice, Barty likes to sit outside. He hates warm, crowded rooms and tight-fitting clothes because they remind him of his father and early childhood memories, and Evan has found that Barty especially likes to be outside when it’s colder, like during the nighttime. On a bad night, he’ll sit outside for a few hours, most likely in complete silence, and doubt himself and everything he knows.
It’s scary to see him like that since Barty is always so lively and wild. He can’t sit still, can’t be quiet and definitely not both at the same time.
Evan cracks the window open a bit more, so there is enough space for him to crawl through, and he winces when the hinges creak too loudly. Fortunately, no one stirs in their beds, and Evan continues, hopping up into the windowsill before crawling through.
Because the Slytherin dorms are placed in the dungeons, the windows only just poke up over the ground, meaning Barty – and anyone else who would dare to sneak out of the windows – has direct access to the fields from the dorm.
Evan crawls out onto the grass levelled with the windowsill and carefully closes the window ajar in the same way Barty did. He hopes the wind doesn’t catch it and makes it either creak or bang. Really, he just hopes no one realises that he and Barty are out of their beds. He really doesn’t need another detention.
It doesn’t take Evan long to find Barty since it’s not the first time Barty has done anything like it. Actually, Evan has come to expect it to happen. It's a part of their life by now.
Barty has pulled his legs up to his chest, and his arms are loosely hugging his hunched form, a cigarette dangling from the right hand. He doesn’t look up as Evan slides to the ground next to him.
“Hey.”
“Hi.”
Barty’s voice is flat, like he’s not really present and unaware of the fact that he’s actually speaking to Evan.
It has happened before, and Evan has learned it’s best to just let Barty return whenever he’s ready, and he patiently lets the silence take over.
“Did it, uh,” Barty stutters after a few minutes, “get too cold in there? With the window open, I mean.”
He doesn’t turn his head to face Evan and instead lets his eyes dwindle on the horizon, still with a zoned-out expression in them. Evan isn’t fooled by it, though. If Barty’s talking, he has definitely returned to reality. He just wishes he hadn’t, hoping to slip back into that loophole in his subconscious and block off the unwanted thoughts and memories.
You can’t hide there forever, though.
“No,” Evan answers flatly. “It’s actually really hot in there. Could definitely use some airing.”
“Oh, okay.”
A few seconds pass in silence, and Evan curses himself for not coming up with a plan or at least something to say. Normally, Barty will welcome Evan with a sweet smile and start up a conversation, something nice and easy that’ll help him forget and Evan will let him because he wants nothing but to make Barty smile. But it isn’t always like that. Sometimes Barty zones out like now, goes silent on the outside and disappears into himself and his screaming thoughts.
It scares Evan when it happens. Because he knows Barty. He knows him so well, he can predict his every move and every word, and when Barty shuts down, Evan can’t predict what happens. He can guess, but he’s rarely ever right, and that scares him.
Evan knows Barty, but the silent limp on the floor adorned with Evan’s best friend's face isn’t Barty. It’s a shell of the boy Evan knows, and whenever a rough day occurs, Evan has to find his best friend. He has to dig inside that pile of trauma and self-doubt to find his best friend, to save him. It scares Evan so incredibly much because he doesn’t know what he’ll face trying to pull Barty out of the pit in his mind. He doesn’t know what disturbing secrets Barty will reveal or what he might need from Evan. Every time Barty vanishes Evan doesn’t know if he even can find him and if so, will he find him in time? What if one day, Barty will disappear into himself and never return?
It might be the worst thing to ever happen, so while Evan might be scared, he won’t ever give up. Not when it’s Barty.
Evan loves him, and he’ll gladly ruin himself in the process of saving Barty.
“Do you have an extra?”
Barty has lifted his cigarette to take a drag from it, and his eyes are moving again, slowly gliding over the dark field before them. He has an endlessly tired expression on his face, and though his hair is falling into his eyes, Barty doesn’t seem to care.
Evan almost wants to lean in and brush it away.
“Sorry. I don’t.” The Barty Evan knows doesn’t ever apologize. “You can get this one, though.”
Wordlessly, Barty hands over the cigarette, and Evan accepts it with a low mumbled “thanks”. Barty hums in return, leaning his head back against the wall behind them and taking a deep, exhausted breath. His eyes flutter shut for a second, and Evan resists the urge to take Barty’s hand and give it a light squeeze. He looks so incredibly fragile, nothing like his rebellious self, and Evan knows that despite Barty’s kind offering of the cigarette to Evan, he desperately wants it himself, practically needs it if he wants to survive another night.
Evan quickly takes a short drag before offering it back to Barty, who takes it without arguing. He puts the cigarette to his mouth and mirrors Evan’s action with practised movements. It clearly calms him.
“You okay?” Evan asks because he has to know, needs confirmation or refutation, anything to go off. A pry into how he’s doing.
“Yeah,” Barty sighs after another drag of the cigarette. Once he lowers it, his fingers instantly start fidgeting with the dingy stick. Barty doesn’t seem to notice, though. “Just needed some time alone.”
“Oh, I’m sorry then,” Evan says, frowning. He’ll help Barty, but only if the boy wants his help. Evan knows what it’s like to be “ helped ” against his will. “I can go if you want me to.”
“No,” Barty says, and for the first time tonight, he turns his head and meets Evan’s gaze. A silent plea paints the dull green irises with panic, and Evan knows – instantly knows – he won’t be going inside to sleep again if Barty doesn’t too. “That wasn’t what I meant. Please stay.”
Barty looks pained, as if there’s something bothering him, but he doesn’t want to talk about it and burden Evan with it. It’s a sweet thing – really – but Evan wishes he would just cut the shit and let it all out. Suppressing feelings only makes things harder. Evan doesn’t ask, though. He knows better than that. If Barty wants to talk about something, he’ll eventually open up, and the only way for Evan to speed up that process is to make Barty comfortable by small talk.
“You stargazing?” Evan asks. Barty averts his gaze to the night sky, an enthralled expression taking over his face as if he just now realises the stars are out and fully visible. The muscles in his neck and shoulders untense, and a peaceful silence settles between them.
Evan takes it Barty wasn’t stargazing before. But he is now.
“Know any constellations?”
If Regulus were there with them, Evan would bet he could’ve already named every star visible from their spot along with all the constellations and their stories.
“No,” Barty mumbles, hugging his folded legs a bit tighter and resting his chin on his knees.
“Lovely,” Evan comments. Barty falls into silence again after that, and for a few moments Evan is content with just looking at his best friend. Despite his sad expression, Barty is an attractive boy – even with a pout and dark circles under his eyes. Evan understands why all the girls are all over him, and a part of him is jealous of Barty. Jealous of his looks and ability to attract others. It shouldn’t be fair to be that good-looking.
It also pains Evan whenever Barty brings back a random girl to the dorm because for some reason Barty always chooses the least attractive girls. It pains Evan that such an ungrateful and unattractive girl gets to spend time with Barty because they never know, never realise just how lucky they are that Barty even looks at them. It pains Evan because he knows they don’t know how amazing Barty is, and that he does. Evan knows Barty better than all his hookups do, appreciates him so much more, so why does Barty feel a need to search for appreciation from strangers when he can just turn to Evan?
Barty’s eyes lock on the sky, and Evan knows he’s going to have to say something to avoid losing Barty to his mind again. Evan wonders what the voices might be telling him.
“Well, you’re lucky then,” Evan says, breaking out into a mischievous smirk. He hasn’t looked away from Barty and still doesn't when Barty trains his gaze back on Evan. “'Cause I do.”
Evan moves from his place next to the wall to a grassy spot in front of them, laying down with a contented sigh and loving the feeling of Barty’s eyes following his body.
“You know constellations?” Barty asks, voice coated in disbelief.
“Well, of course,” Evan smirks, and Barty huffs out a contemptuous laugh.
“I hate to break it to you, Rosie, but you’re failing astronomy.”
“Crouch,” Evan warns playfully, “shut it. I know my constellations perfectly fine. Regulus has taught me well.”
“Oh, has he now?”
“Yes, now come here,” Evan says, patting the space next to him. Though he won’t admit it, the thought of Barty laying down next to him and so close makes butterflies erupt in his stomach. It’s stupid because they’ve done stuff like this and worse several times, yet it never fails to make Evan nervous and blush.
Barty gets up from his spot to move over to Evan, and as he lays down, Evan bites his lip to contain his stupid smile.
It’s also different in the middle of the night. Barty’s hookups never get to see him like this, vulnerable and sleepy. This Barty is reserved for Evan only.
“Okay,” Evan starts, mentally choosing a random star in the dark sky above them. “Do you see that bright one up there.” Evan points it out, enjoying the heat radiating off Barty’s body when he leans in to see exactly where Evan is pointing. “That’s Bikock.”
“ Bikock? ” Barty asks. He turns his head, fixing his eyes on Evan’s face, and he’s so, so close, and Evan doesn’t look away from Bikock , but he can still glimpse the half-grin on Barty’s lips that matches Evan’s perfectly . “ Really, Evan? Big cock?”
“Barty!” Evan exclaims, barely keeping the smile from his face as he pretends to be deeply offended. “No need to be so dirty-minded, you disgusting motherfucker. It’s called Bikock. ”
“Oh, sure, and what about that one?” Barty points to a star to their left. “No, wait, let me guess. Pu Shi?”
Evan laughs, lets his happiness float out into the night because no one can hear them. It’s just the two of them, and Evan couldn’t wish for anything else. If he could, he would stay like this forever.
“Merlin’s tits Barty, no,” Evan cackles wholeheartedly, trying to sound affronted and imitate Regulus’ prudish tone. “That’s the doggy star.”
Evan is pretty sure Regulus had mentioned a star called something like that at one point.
“The doggy st-”
Barty interrupts himself with a laugh and Evan joins in, turning around to hide his face in Barty’s shoulder. Quickly, before Barty can comment on it, Evan wipes the corners of his eyes and continues, now with a genuine and big smile on his lips.
“Anyways, you see there’s three stars around Bikock.” Evan points them out to a snickering Barty as he talks. “There, look. Together the four of them plus that one over there, creates a constellation called the motel.”
“The motel?”
“The motel.”
Evan manages to look grave, and Barty lets him carry on without commenting any further.
“And at the motel, there lives this woman. It’s the two stars over there.”
“That doesn’t look like a woman, though.”
“What?” Evan bursts out. “That’s definitely a woman. Can’t you see her curves?”
“There’s literally two stars, Ev. That makes one straight line, so if it is a woman, she’s definitely not very curvy.”
Evan opens his mouth, but the words get stuck halfway up because Barty’s right. Two dots do make a line. Barty has crossed his arms and is now smirking at Evan expectantly. His eyes have reclaimed their gleam, and though Barty has outsmarted him, Evan doesn't care. He has already won in his own favourite game. That lively Barty-smile is a price on its own.
“She has a curvy personality, though,” Evan finishes, shrugging.
“Oh, of course,” Barty says, lifting his hands in surrender. “I should’ve guessed.”
“You should.”
“Anything else you can point out for me?”
“Well, yes, of course,” Evan says, searching the sky for another random star to make up yet another random story about. “That one right there is called the ant.”
“The ant?”
Barty looks like he’s one second away from losing his brows in his hair. Evan wants to reach over and smooth out the furrows on his forehead.
“He has a name,” Evan says gravely.
“Of course he has. Does he have a friend too?”
Evan doesn’t know what star he’s trying to point at, but there are plenty, so he has to be pointing to at least one.
“Yeah, she’s right there. Sasha.”
“Sasha,” Barty repeats, nodding approvingly to himself. “She sounds nice.”
“She’s actually a bitch,” Evan makes up, proud that he keeps up a neutral mask.
“Oh, how tragic,” Barty says without missing a beat, and really, he deserves an award for that poker face.
“And right there next to Sasha, the two bright ones and that one that kinda twitches a bit and that cluster of stars down there. You see them? Yeah, that’s the banana.”
Barty laughs, and oh, how it fills Evan with a giddy feeling. He wants to do it again, wants to go back in time and relive it because it’s better than alcohol, it’s better than drugs, better than everything. If Evan can make Barty laugh, then everything else doesn’t matter. Evan doesn’t let his feelings show, though, keeping up his act as he turns to look at Barty, hoping to get a view of his face lit up by a rare, sincere smile.
“Why are you laughing? I’m serious,” Evan says, pushing up on an elbow. Despite laughing, Barty answers immediately.
“I’d rather you were Evan.”
It’s a joke, a stupid one, but Barty stops laughing and focuses his gaze on Evan with a cosy look in his eyes. He looks content and relaxed, and Evan feels oddly exposed underneath his gaze.
“I like him more,” Barty continues. “A lot more in fact.”
Evan doesn’t blush, and he definitely doesn’t look away to the sky because he feels like he’s melting. Barty keeps smiling that easy smile, and Evan is about to say something just to get him to stop when Barty beats him to it.
“Thanks.”
The words “ for distracting me” hang unsaid in the air.
“You're welcome.”
It’s simple words. Words that, said on their own, don’t really mean anything special, but in the right context – like now – they can mean the world. And they do. To Evan, Barty’s “thanks” is everything. Because Barty doesn’t usually say stuff like “thanks” or “sorry”. He doesn’t do formalities like “please” and rarely ever says “hi”, only smacks someone on the ass as a way of greeting. Being casual isn’t who Barty is, so to Evan, such a simple word means everything. He feels so incredibly special when Barty shows him that different, sweet, and kind side of himself. Like it was crafted just for Evan and Evan only.
Barty gives a last gentle smile before turning to look at the stars again. He has folded one arm behind his head, and the other is holding the cigarette close to his lips so he can easily take a drag from it. It’s almost finished, and Evan knows Barty is trying to make it last due to how long he has already fiddled with it. Evan wishes he had a cigarette, simply so he could offer it to Barty and get to see that smile directed at him again.
He doesn’t, though, and a sedate silence falls over them. Some people think Barty and Evan don’t possess the ability to slow down, but in reality, they often sit next to each other silently at nighttime when the dark memories come creeping up on them.
It’s the depressing truth, that being loud and obnoxious is a mask, preventing the unwanted feelings from floating to the surface. Sometimes Evan doesn’t know what he would do with himself if he didn’t pretend to be fine. He can imagine Barty feels the same way.
Though his eyes have regained a little sparkle, Barty still looks anxious, and Evan can practically see the thoughts being yelled at repeat in his mind. A part of Evan wishes he knew how to make them shut up, wishes he knew how to help Barty better. Because while Evan can take Barty’s mind off of things, make sure he directs his attention at something kinder and soothing, Evan can’t make the hatred and doubt disappear. No matter how much he goes off the rails, he can’t erase the trails of trauma in Barty’s mind. He can’t heal the wounds with nothing but his hands.
Evan is looking at Barty, but Barty isn’t reciprocating the eye contact. His gaze is fixed on the sky, and with every passing second, he looks more and more haunted.
Evan can try to stop him from falling into the dark pit, Evan can try, leap off the edge to catch Barty before he drops. But when it comes down to it, Evan can’t haul them up from a free fall if there’s no ground to stand on.
“Okay,” Evan sighs in defeat. He needs to do something, doesn’t want to lose Barty, and he knows they won’t get to ignore the main problem forever. “I'm just gonna ask. Do you want to talk about it?”
Evan knows the answer is no, so he isn't even surprised when Barty says it. Had their positions been switched, Evan would have done the exact same thing.
“No. He isn’t worth it.” He is Bartemius Crouch Sr. Evan doesn’t have to ask to know.
“Okay then.” It isn’t okay, though, and both of them know. Yet, neither address it.
They sit in silence for a little while longer, but Evan knows he’s poked a hole in the dam, and as suspected, it doesn’t take long before Barty sits up abruptly. His cigarette is finished, but Barty doesn’t seem to realise, gaze fixed on the sky in front of him as if there might be enough space up there for all his feelings.
“Fucking hell,” Barty curses. He looks dishevelled and lost, but to be honest, Evan has seen him in far worse conditions. “He’s not fucking worth it.”
Barty doesn’t like to talk about his feelings, and when he does, he needs to get it all out at once, which means Evan has to shut the fuck up. That’s the rule, and it also goes the other way, so Evan rightfully keeps his mouth shut as Barty dumps all his thoughts into the night. His words aren’t directed at Evan, and it honestly looks more like Barty’s talking to himself. Yet, Evan knows Barty doesn’t want him to leave. If he wanted Evan to leave, Barty wouldn’t be voicing his frustrations.
“I’m such a bad liar, really. Not worth it. ” Barty grimaces, glaring daggers into the grass under his fidgeting fingers. “Not fucking worth it, and here I am, overthinking everything . It’s just- I know he can’t fucking do anything. He’s so far away. He’s practically powerless when I’m here. He can’t touch me. He isn’t fucking worth it, that’s the truth.”
Barty pauses, and a sad and tired expression appears on his face.
“But,” he stammers. “I can hear him. He’s not here, but I can hear him. He's always in my fucking head, Evan. I think I might be going insane because I can hear him in here, and he’s constantly telling me to do better and criticising me, and sometimes I don't know if I'll get rid of him.”
Barty looks up at Evan, meeting Evan’s gaze with frightened green eyes. He looks lost, looks like he has seen something horrible that will be engraved on his retina for the rest of his life, looks like he’s one second away from ripping his own eyes out just to get rid of the vision.
“I’m scared, Evan. That’s the truth.”
The words hit Evan like a train going at full speed, and the feeling of falling, falling, falling instantly spreads through his body. Evan can only hope Barty will be waiting at the bottom, ready to catch him.
Barty has gone silent, and while Evan usually wouldn’t comment on anything, Barty’s eyes are filled with a secret plea. A plea for hope or a lie. Whatever he can get. He needs Evan to assure him that things will be okay even though they might not, because if they won’t get better then what’s the point?
Evan gets him.
“Barty,” Evan starts, sighing to himself. He wishes there was a way he could avoid lying, wishes there was a painless way he could help Barty. “I know it’s easy for me to say, that it’s empty words and nothing I haven’t said before, but you’re free. You really, truly are. He's not here. It’s just you and me, and we’re free. Your dad can’t reach you here, and you don’t have to pretend to be fine just to spite him. From this distance, Barty, your actions can’t affect him, and his actions can’t affect you.”
It’s not completely the truth. Of course, Barty and his dad can somewhat make life easier and harder for each other, but Barty does make it too big of a thing. Yes, his dad can send him letters and tell him to focus more on his grades, but that’s all. Bartemius Crouch Sr. doesn't have to know if Barty fools around during a party or if he’s befriending the “right” type of people. He can’t affect Barty in that crazy way Barty’s afraid of, so in some ways, Evan is telling the truth.
“So, stop trying to please him. For once, take care of yourself . Or let me do it. Say the word, Barty, and I will. Don’t let your dad keep you up like this. Like you said, he really isn’t worth it.”
Barty has realised his cigarette is finished, and now he’s picking at the burnt end with his bare fingers. A part of Evan suspects Barty might enjoy the pain from that and similar situations because he feels like he deserves it.
“I,” Barty says, his voice breaking. “I don’t know how to...How to not...”
He doesn’t finish the sentence; simply lets it hang.
“I’m gonna be honest and say I don’t either. But I promise you, we’ll find out.”
And Evan will try. For Barty, he’ll keep on trying forever. Whatever equations Barty sets up, Evan will find the solution – even if it takes the rest of his life. Evan hates maths, but for Barty...
Evan doesn’t think there’s something he wouldn’t do for Barty.
“No, Evan, you don’t understand. I don’t know how to not constantly worry. I can’t relax, and I can’t calm down. I can’t sleep. It's why I’m out here. So, I won’t bother anyone. I hate being alone because I’m never not alone.”
Barty touches his temple gently.
“Come sleep with me then.”
The words leave Evan’s mouth before he can really register them, and then he can’t take them back. It’s not because they haven’t done it before; they’ve slept in the same bed together several times, but they are older now. They’re not small kids anymore, and Evan doesn’t know if they’re still allowed to do stuff like it anymore. It could be interpreted the wrong way.
“Or if you can’t sleep, you can just lay down with your eyes closed and relax.” It’s too late to take the offer back, so Evan just innocently builds it up, prepares for rejection, and keeps his face as calm and neutral as possible. “And if you want to, I can tell you more about constellations.”
Joking is always the way to work yourself out of an awkward situation. It always works, takes the graveness out of the situation.
Barty chuckles to himself, and Evan hopes he’s somehow saved it.
“You serious?”
“Thought you wanted me to be Evan?” Evan asks because joking even more is an even better solution. And he wants Barty to say that one thing he insinuated before. “You liked him more, didn’t you?”
“I do,” Barty says, and despite the joke, he doesn’t seem like he thinks it’s something to laugh off. Evan also can’t help but point out to himself that Barty hasn’t rejected his offer yet.
Evan smiles – tries to keep his calm and avoid fainting – and lets his gaze wander to Bikock and Sasha in the sky. Gently, he looks back at Barty again – but only when he’s got his feelings under control – and simply lets his body relax in the moment. It’s crazy how crazy Barty makes Evan even when he’s the one who also calms Evan the best.
“Let’s go to sleep, Barty,” Evan says. He tilts his head to the side and lets his eyelids drop so he can just barely glimpse Barty’s smiling face. He looks so damncomfortable.
“Okay,” he answers, offering Evan his free hand. Again, it’s a simple action that Evan doesn’t know how to interpret. Do they still do those things?
Evan takes Barty’s hand in his without complaints, and he feels slightly giddy when Barty gives him an assuring squeeze. If Barty wants to still act like innocent kids, Evan won’t stop him. Gently, Evan squeezes back, using Barty as leverage to get up.
It’s a silent and slow walk back to the dorm, and Evan enjoys the warmth emitting from Barty’s palm against his own far more than he would like to admit. The air is chill, and when a gust of wind tousles Evan’s locks, goosebumps erupt on his bare arms. The t-shirt he’s wearing is thin and loose, allowing the cold to seep right through to his skin. He doesn’t mind it, though. Despite having left the window partly open, Evan suspects that the room will be warm enough to warm him and Barty up in less than a few seconds. It’s impossible for the dorm to stay cold during nighttime when five teenage boys all sleep in there.
The cold is also a welcome and stark contrast to the warmth radiating off of Barty's body right next to Evan. Outside – in the cold – Evan appreciates Barty’s presence far more. He lets his elbow brush Barty’s rib and lets his fingers tighten around Barty’s hand. It’s all innocent, two friends on a walk together at three am. Usually, Barty calls “three am” the hour where everything is possible, and Evan understands what he means.
Had it been three pm and not am, Evan doesn’t think they would have intertwined their fingers or sauntered across an empty field at such a relaxed pace and in a comfortable silence that speaks on its own.
At three am, everything is indeed possible.
None of the other boys are awake when Barty and Evan finally return, silently climbing in through the window, which is probably for the best. Evan also quickly realises he was right, that the room is still filled with a moist and warm atmosphere that only exists around teenage boys who have hit puberty, and a faint smell of sweat is hanging in the air.
Barty is the first to jump down to the floor from the windowsill, and he lands silently, like a cat sneaking in on its prey. Evan follows shortly after, trying to imitate Barty’s grace the best he can – which isn’t much, as he almost knocks over a lonely vase on a table. Fortunately, the only who reacts to it is Barty, who glares daggers at him, a smile trying to break loose on his face.
Evan bows, flashing Barty a row of teeth behind a lopsided grin. Barty rolls his eyes, nodding towards Evan’s bed. Come on, Rosie, it’s bedtime.
The imposed show-smile on Evan’s lips changes to a real one, and Evan relaxes at the thought of lying in bed with Barty by his side, relaxes because Barty wants to do it too. Evan might be a kid for wanting to sleep next to his best friend, but if he is, Barty is too. Perhaps that’s why they fit together so nicely.
Barty lifts the covers and crawls underneath them while Evan closes the window and draws the curtains, blocking out any light. He doesn’t need the light to know Barty’s holding the duvet open for him, and Evan slips over to the bed as soundlessly as possible, gliding into the free space on the bed. Barty drops the cover, and it falls down on top of Evan’s body, connecting with the mattress on his right side.
It feels so easy to be around Barty like this, yet so illegal.
It’s warm underneath the duvet, but in reality, Evan doesn’t really care. He can feel Barty’s body right next to his, and that’s all that matters. Some stupid and silly part of him wants to lean in closer, knowing Barty would allow it, but he doesn’t know if he actually dares to. His heart is beating faster than normally, and his mind is filled with a roaring silence. There’s no way he’s going to fall asleep if he doesn’t calm down.
It’s supposed to be Barty’s job; to calm him down, but currently Evan knows there’s very little Barty can do to stop him from feeling lightheaded.
The thing is, Evan isn’t even laying comfortably because he doesn’t want to move if it’ll accidentally bother Barty. Yet, Evan wants to move because if he does, pretends to try to get comfortable, he might accidentally brush his hand against Barty’s arm or rest his knee against Barty’s leg.
Why does it have to be so complicated?
“Ev?”
It’s a whisper, and it’s so damn close, Evan can almost feel it against his hair.
“Mhm?”
There’s a short silence following that as if Barty’s contemplating or thinking about something, and as the seconds tick by incredibly slowly, Evan can’t hear anything but the thudding of his heart.
“Do you wanna...?”
“Do I wanna what?”
Silence again. Thump, thump, thump.
“ Snuggle.”
Evan’s heart stops beating for a whole second before it resumes its wild pace.
“Snuggle?”
“Yes, do you want to snuggle, Evan? Cuddle. ”
Silence. Again. And then – despite Barty being unable to see it – a smile breaks loose on Evan’s face. He twists over, lets his body meet Barty’s, practically lays himself on top of him, wraps an arm around his torso – and then the best thing; Barty reciprocates. He does all of it too. The second Evan is in his arms, his hands come to rest on Evan’s waist and back, he tangles his feet with Evan’s and hides his face in Evan’s hair.
Evan knows Barty likes to yap; he knows Barty tells Regulus everything, but this-
This, Barty never shares. This, Regulus and no one else know about. This is theirs – Barty’s and Evan’s - and this is a sacred moment. It’s not because it’s a secret or something they are ashamed of; it’s simply something they don’t feel the need to brag about. It’s something fragile and kind meant just for the two of them.
When Barty whispers something vulnerable into the night, into Evan’s ear, it’s only Evan’s. It’s a gift and Evan will cherish it forever. He'll cherish Barty in his heart forever.
Similarly, Barty never mentions to anyone else how clingy Evan actually is, never mentions how he’ll attach himself to Barty’s hand or drape himself across Barty’s body to enjoy his warmth. He never mentions it to anyone. Despite having material he could tease Evan with, he doesn’t. Instead, he wraps his own arms around Evan and clings to him too.
And they stay like that, cuddled up together, their chest heaving and falling together. And finally, Evan feels relaxed; the nervousness has disappeared, replaced by calmness. Once again, It’s Barty’s doing.
It’s three am, the hour where everything is possible. The curtains are drawn, leaving the room in utter blackness, except...
It doesn’t stay black.
Once you get used to the blackness, it changes. Once your eyes grow accustomed to the darkness, you’ll see the nuances and the shades. Evan sees them. He sees there’s more to the blackness than anger and pain. He sees the boy he calls his best friend lying next to him with a smile on his lips. He sees love .
Darkness and blackness are often associated with hatred, but it’s a cover. And that doesn’t make the pain less real; it simply gives it a purpose. Anyone who isn’t used to living in the darkness will see nothing but blackness, pain, and hatred, but Evan, whose eyes are accustomed to the darkness, Evan who has lived in the darkness for years, sees the nuances and the love hidden within.
It’s a good thing it’s hidden, it’s a protection. A way to shield such a fragile thing as love from people who’ll try to take it away or destroy it.
The darkness is a protection, a safe space for those who know what to look for.
If a stranger were to look into the Slytherin dorm, they’d see the night and the blackness; they’d see no signs of love whatsoever.
Only those who have already lingered within the darkness would see Barty and Evan sleeping peacefully, cuddled up together, love wrapped around them like a second duvet.