Chapter 1
"Evan? Evan! EVAN!"
Fuck. Evan jolted upwards, eyes bouncing away from where they were stuck onto black hair with green streaks.
"Huh? Sorry, mate, completely zoned out there, what's up?" Evan murmured, voice thick.
"Jesus Christ, Ev, you are such a lost cause mate." James laughed, smile wide.
"Was just talking about the match before you got sucked into the back of Crouch’s hair." He continued, arms folded over the dining table.
It was easy to get lost in your own head during lunches, the busy hall, full of students all in their own world, loud and obnoxious. Evan found himself slipping away from the conversations subconsciously, and his eyes would for some reason find a home on the table in the corner, glaring at the one person he didn't want to.
"Oh, the match, I forgot about that. Yeah, nah, I'm chill with it, we'll win for sure." Evan brushed off.
"This guy thinks he's so smooth.." Evan turned his head towards Sirius, sat diagonal to him, chuckling under his breath. ‘Seriously Ev, you were practically eye-fucking him!" he shouted, smirk only growing.
Evan glared at him from across the table, picking up his fork and aiming it at Sirius’ face. "Shut the fuck up Black, I could've been looking at your brother for all you know! And you don't have the be so fucking loud.." he retorted, eyes darting around the room to make sure nobody was looking at them.
Sirius just smiled back, a challenge in his stare.
"So you weren't looking at Crouch?"
Evan didn't bite, just rolled his eyes, sat back down and moved his fork from in front of Sirius to his plate, grunting in defeat.
"Leave him alone, Pads." James said.
Evan wasn't looking at Crouch, He was just … glancing around. It's not his fault if Barty’s stupid bright green strands stood out, or the fact that black lines of whatever tattoo he had could be seen peaking out from under his shirt, tracing down his back, or how when he stood up and stretched, Evan got a glimpse of his waistband, and if he looked closely he could make out the h-
"-VAN! Mate, lunch is over, everyone left." James was stood over Evan, looking at him with soft brown eyes, a steady tan hand on his shoulder, gently shaking him. "You were staring again.."
Evan pushed his tray away, grabbed his bag and walked away with James, ignoring that feeling in his gut telling him to look back, to get a second glance.
Him and James walked together, white buttoned shirts fitting their bodies, tucked nicely into their black trousers. They stood tall in the corridor, some students payed them no mind, but they got looks, girls twirling their hair and feigning nonchalance. Younger year guys looking at them with awe, hoping to be like them one day. James was the captain of the football team at their school, Evan played left wing. Their team was good. Great, in fact. Top of the school league in their county.
They had some admirers, of course. It was only natural with their good looks, popularity and talent. Despite this, they were both single, which simultaneously crushed and gave hope to every student at the school, as they were available, but nobody could get them.
"Hey Ev, are you sure you're okay? You've been zoning out a lot. I want you top notch for Friday." James’ smooth voice broke the silence of their walk.
Evan turned to face him, a small smile on his face. "James I swear I'm fine."
A small sigh to his left, James seemingly unconvinced but he didn't push further, which Evan was thankful for.
They turned into the classroom, bags swung over their shoulders as they marched towards the back row, to join their friends. Sirius was already sat on top of Evan’s desk, a sheepish look on his face.
"Evvvvv… Are you mad at me?" He began, puppy eyes out. Evan just rolled his eyes and tried to shove Sirius of his desk so he could sit down. "Seriously Evan. I didn't mean to piss you off about Crouch. Okay? You can't be angry!" Sirius continued anyway, much to Evan’s dismay.
"Shut up!" Evan hissed under his breath at Sirius, eyes flitting around the room. "Sirius, I don't care. Just, please, be quiet. He will hear you!"
"Oi! Rosie! Did you miss me?"
Fuck.
Evan turned slowly, hoping he was wrong, but he would know that voice anywhere. And that stupid nickname. Nobody called him Rosie. Well, nobody except..
"Crouch." Evan nodded slightly, stiff lipped.
"Come on Rosie, don't be like that. You not gonna gimme a smile?" Barty had entered the classroom unnoticed and had slowly been walking up towards the back row, Regulus in tow. He was now only a few steps away from Evan, leaning lazily on a desk, with his shirt untucked, and a smug grin on his face. As he leaned back a strip of skin showed, and for some reason Evan struggled to not stare.
"Fuck off Crouch, and stop calling me that."
Sirius laughed at this from behind him as he slowly slipped off his desk, he walked up to Regulus and slung an arm over his brother, who only scowled in response.
"That's so cute! We should start calling you Rosie." Sirius practicality gleamed.
Barty turned to Sirius, his grin falling into a frown,
"Don't."
"Someone's testy! Gosh Reg, how are you friends with this guy! Why can't we call him Rosie?" Sirius groaned from beside Regulus, who just removed his arm and laughed weakly.
Evan had remained silent, not wanting to start this fight, he wasn't in the mood. Barty however, didn't pick up on this, and stalked over to where Evan stood beside his desk, and placed his hand on Evan’s waist. Barty stood taller than Evan, his knuckles had some letters shittily marked on them.
"Cause, only I can call him Rosie, isn't that right, Rosie?" Barty leaned towards Evan on that last question, close enough that Evan could smell his cologne. The hand on his waist was firm, it felt good, but he wouldn't admit that. This guy just wanted to annoy him. And truthfully, he was succeeding.
Evan crossed his arms across his chest, pulled back, Barty's hand trying to cling onto his waist before having to limply fall back to his side as Evan sat down in his chair.
"None of you can call me Rosie. Crouch just does it cause he hates me" Evan mumbled.
An offended look fell on Barty's face, his jaw falling open as he planted his hands on Evan's desk to look over him, standing in front and caging him in.
"That's not true! Don't joke about me hating you Rosie. I call you Rosie cause you're my favourite, okay?" Barty said, voice holding conviction but he was taking the piss, and Evan could see through it.
Evan simply rolled his eyes, kicking Barty's shin under the table and watching as he strolled back to his desk when the teacher walked in.
He thought he felt James staring at him. He didn't check.
—
As he trailed towards the changing room, Evan let his mind wander. These days it felt like he was daydreaming more than he was actually awake. The pitch was full when he got there, James in the middle of the field, with his little red shorts and top, and his apparent permanent smile.
James gave him a wave when he noticed him, yelling out to be quick, to which Evan just nodded in response. Evan wasn't normally late, but he had to talk with his physics teacher about his test results after the lesson finished. His father hadn't been happy about his grade, wanting an A* instead of an A. Evan didn't get the fuss, but he ain't one to argue with his father about these things, so he had asked his teacher if he was able to resit it.
This lead him to walking towards an empty sports hall to get changed, the last one of his team to be there. As he approached the lockers, he had been so in his own head, he hadn't caught notice of a certain someone leaning against the lockers, lit cigarette in his mouth.
“Oh hello Rosie, didn't expect to see you here at this time." That voice rang out, his smirk audible.
Evan looked up to see Barty, leaning against the lockers under the shelter, puffing out a cloud of smoke.
"I could say the same for you, Crouch, you don't exactly strike me as the type to stick around for extracurriculars, although by the looks of things, you're not here for football." He gestured to the cigarette in his mouth.
"Ahhh, got me there Rosie, I'm not here for football, but you didn't say why you were late.’ Barty continued to pry. He watched as Evan put his bag in his locker and walked into the changing rooms, and hastily stubbed out his cigarette to follow him inside, rolling his eyes at Evan’s lack of reply.
Evan was shirtless when he walked in, taking his football top out of his bag to pull it over his head. He didn't grace Barty with a look as he spoke, "You wanna see me shirtless this bad?"
Barty laughed it off. "Rosie, come on answer me. Why were you late?" Barty was not letting this go.
"Since when do you have the football practice timetable memorised, Crouch? And why the fuck do you care if I was late? Huh?" Evan teased, voice growing frustrated as he pulled his trousers down and quickly put on his shorts.
Barty was silent for a moment.
Evan pushed off the bench and walked past Barty, if Barty was going to be weird, he would ignore him, simple as. But to no avail, as his arm was caught in Barty’s hand, his skin was rough and calloused, Evan noted, his hand big as it wrapped around Evan's wrist with ease.
"I call you Rosie, and you just call me Crouch. How is that fair? You should call me something else." Barty said, completely ignoring Evan’s questions. His voice was heavy with disdain as he said his name, Evan noticed, but he didn't comment.
"Jesus, I do not ask you to call me Rosie," Evan mocked, "in fact, I specifically remember asking you not to call me that." He pointed out, annoyance in his tone. He tried to pull his arm away, but this time Barty kept hold, he was bigger, he was clearly stronger, and so he didn't struggle to keep Evan in his hand.
"Why were you late?" He asked again, voice unwavering.
‘None of your fucking business, Crouch.’ Evan adding emphasis on his name. "Why are you even here?" He continued.
"Ha." Barty laughed, no humour in his tone.
"None of your fucking business, Rosier." Barty parroted.
He let go of Evan’s arm, with a harsh tug as he walked out the door. Evan turned to watch him go.
Even though he insisted upon Barty not calling him Rosie, he found that any other name felt wrong coming from him.
Well. Shit.