sun tea in the summer

Barty was gone the first three weeks of summer. Evan didn’t know where he was, just that he was still coming. 

In fact, the only text conversation they had was as follows:

Tuesday, June 26th

[03:26] BUMBLE BITCH!!!: hey i’m not gonna be around for a lil sorry 

[11:04] Pre-Crisp Anakin Wannabe: no worries

everything okay? 

Thursday, June 28th

[15:11] Pre-Crisp Anakin Wannabe: b? 

The lack of responses made him feel more anxious than he’d been in years. Which, honestly, was saying a lot – seeing how the last few years had been. 

Right now, he was tossing up the only three options that would come to mind. Barty was either dead, ditched him, or stuck somewhere nobody wanted to spend very long thinking about.

“What’re you thinking about?” Pandora asked, pulling him away from the spiralling thoughts. They were sitting on the back deck together, a journal pulled up in her lap and his phone in his hand. He was supposed to be reading a book, but he didn’t have an ounce of focus (not to mention he couldn’t see shit out of his sunglasses).

“Nothing,” He shrugged, reaching for the glass of sun tea he poured. It was beyond warm now from sitting in the sun for so long. Gross.

“Barty?” She guessed, raising a brow. 

Evan took a long sip from his drink, stretching it out as long as possible to postpone answering her. “No.” 

She shrugged, but her eyes had that look. The ‘if you say so…’ look. “Okay.” 

“I guess I get stressed when he goes home for a while. I don’t find his dad a fun person to be around myself, so it has to be thousands of times worse for him. Just–Whenever he comes back, he looks so…not Barty.” 

Pandora hummed something, but he didn’t really hear her. He kept going, deep-down knowing that was exactly what she was hoping for.

“It’s kind of pathetic, being all worked up after only a few weeks of being apart. We used to only see each other in the summer, and now I feel deprived within days. It’s stupid,” He laughed deprecatingly under his breath, leaning back into the seat. The sun had made the metal approximately three hundred degrees, but he tried his best to ignore it. 

“Well, things have changed since back then.” 

Evan looked over at her. She’d moved to lay out flat on the deck, carefully arranging her limbs so each of them were equally in the sunspot. They both inherited warmer bronze skin from their father’s side, but she always said she liked the deeper colour that summer brought on better. “What’s changed?” 

One of her eyes opened to squint at him. “You guys are a lot closer than back then, you know? You’re attached at the hip, basically.”

After a split second, she rushed to add on more. “I don’t mean that in a bad way, either.” 

“You think that there’s something going on between the two of us, don’t you?” Evan hissed back, not really meaning to. It was the first thing his mind went to. The thought hadn’t really left his mind ever since that conversation with Sirius, and talking to Regulus only made it more pressing. It never managed to leave his mind in general, especially seeing as pretty much everyone at school seemed to have some collection of thoughts about their friendship.

“What? No. I mean, if there is, that’s fine,” She picked herself up onto her elbows. “I just meant that you live together now, you know each other inside and out. You’re bound to miss him when he leaves, I’m sure he misses you just the same.” 

“There’s nothing going on between us.” 

‘’Van’,” Pandora sighed exasperatedly. “I didn’t say there was.”

—

When Barty did come back, it was the middle of the night. It only took three taps of his fingers against the glass before Evan was diving over the bed and ripping the window open. Barty toppled in, nearly tackling Evan in the process to hug him. Without hesitation, Evan wrapped his arms back around him. 

“Ev,” His voice was thick and rough and not right at all, but that was for later. For now, Evan could just hold onto him tighter. He passed his hand over his back, brushing against the top of his neck.

Barty leaned into his hand just slightly. When he tilted his head back, he looked – for the lack of a better sounding word – horrible. His red-rimmed eyes looked sunken in, dark bruise-like colours staining the skin beneath. 

“Do you–Do you need anything?” Evan dug his nails into his palm, resisting the urge to hold onto Barty’s exhausted face. “Are you okay?” 

“‘M alright. I’m fine. Dandy, even. I didn’t mean to–” 

Who the hell says dandy? “Shut up.” 

After another few seconds of awkwardly looking at each other, Barty turned away and dug through the dresser until he seemed satisfied with a handful of clothes and disappeared. When they were little, they stuck to one person having one side of the dresser and the other person having the opposite side. Quickly, they found out neither of them had any plans of folding their clothes, and just decided to let everything mix together. 

At school, they could tell their stuff apart just by what Barty wore, but during the summer it was usually just gym shorts and t-shirts – it didn’t really matter who wore what.

Barely two minutes later, Barty was in bed tugging Evan on top of his chest. They slotted into their normal positions, his arms pulled tight around them and Evan’s head tucked beneath his chin.

It was stupid, but Evan thought it felt like coming home after a trip away. 

“I won’t leave again. Promise,” Barty whispered after a beat of silence passed between them. It sounded like he was telling himself more than he was Evan. 

Nonetheless, Evan gave a small nod. 

—

The next morning, the two of them sat at the kitchen table with Pandora. She didn’t say anything about him showing up apart from a soft greeting when they walked in the room. In fact, nobody made a big deal about it. When Evan’s parents and grandma saw him, all they gave was a warm smile and ‘It’s nice to see you, Barty’. 

Evan knew there was something lingering on the tip of Barty’s tongue from the minute they sat down, but he left it to simmer. He’d spit it out eventually, it was usually near impossible for Barty to keep anything to himself.

It only took another thirty seconds before he gave in. 

“Can I join the football team this year?” 

Evan nearly choked on his water. “What? Wait, are you asking for permission…?” 

“Fine. Is there room on the football team for me this year?” Barty looked strange, almost like he was embarrassed to be asking in the first place. His head was tilted down, fingers loosely tapping along the side of a glass of water. 

“You want to join the team?” Evan was still confused. Barty never cared particularly much about football over the years, just enough to agree to kick the ball around occasionally. 

“Figured I may as well, I should probably try to be decent at something before we graduate,” Barty laughed dryly, trying to make his words seem like a joke. Something must have happened between him and his father while he was gone.

“I think we need a new goalie,” Evan shrugged, attempting to cover up his flinch in reaction. “They’ll have tryouts like usual, but I’d think you’d hold a fair chance against a first year.” 

He was trying to joke about it, but Barty only nodded and pushed the waffles on his plate around with his fork. 

Pandora spoke up this time. “I don’t think Reggie is going to be captain this year, the whole thing with Sirius well…you know how his family is. He’s a bit stressed. If ‘Van gets captain it’s an automatic in for you.” 

Regulus was never ‘a bit’ stressed, it was either all or nothing. He had all the reason to be stressed, after all. Sirius was just officially exiled from the family, and Regulus was expected to carry out some sort of weird rich people duties now. Evan still didn’t understand all of the politics that went on with the Black family, but it was enough for it to be featured in the school newspaper. Freaky.

As much as he was sure it was awful for Regulus, the chance at captain was very exciting. Evan nearly dropped his fork. “Really?” 

“You could at least pretend to not be thrilled, ‘Van.” 

He opened his mouth to retort, but was met with absolutely nothing to say back. She wasn’t really wrong, he was more than ecstatic. He’d wanted to be captain since he was thirteen. 

Barty slapped a hand over his back, like he was attempting to knock something out of Evan’s throat. “Perfect, then! You’ll be captain, I’ll figure out how to be a goalie. Dream team material,” He paused for a moment, thinking about something. “Wet dream team material, even. Will this up my popularity?” 

“Ugh, you need to be sedated,” Pandora groaned, shoving her chair back before loudly setting her plate in the sink and leaving the room completely. 

“You’ll have to get up early now, you know,” Evan raised an eyebrow, partly expecting for Barty to drop it there. He wanted Barty on the team, he did, but he’d already decided he would take over as captain and he wanted his team to win. He needed Barty to put his all into it.

“I suppose I can make that happen,” Barty sighed dramatically, flinging himself backwards to stretch over the back of the chair.

—

They made a plan to get ready for the school’s football season, even though summer had just barely begun. 

First off, they’d start running together in the mornings. Barty wasn’t out of shape, not at all, but definitely wasn’t in enough shape to last a 90 minute football match. Evan hardly made it through each game, and he wasn’t even playing the whole time.

The first week was the most productive when it came to running, that was for sure. They were up before the sun even finished rising, chasing each other through the neighbourhood in jumpers. Unsurprisingly, the will to wake up at five in the morning quickly disappeared, and then they weren’t leaving until eight, nine, ten, sometimes not until eleven.

That was where the issues started. It was hot. Not exceptionally so, but far more warm than it was when Evan was running back at school. He was pretty sure it never felt like this in previous years, but, climate change or whatever. Pandora knew more about it than he did.

So, it was far too warm to be going out in jumpers or long sleeves anymore. Hell, being in a t-shirt was pushing it. Evan wasn’t one to run around half naked – even at the beach he tended to keep at least a tank-top on.

Barty didn’t hesitate to pull his shirt over his head mid-run, wrapping it around his neck and catching it each time it began to slip (It took six repeats of that before he gave up and just held it. Evan counted.).

That was the next issue. Evan had seen Barty shirtless hundreds, probably even thousands of times but he hadn’t since summer began. There were little marks littered along his shoulders, ones hardly perceptible unless you were, well, Evan. He could tell when a single hair of Barty’s was out of place.

Still, Evan pretended to not notice – mostly because he caught Barty glancing back at him when he tried to lag behind and see. 

That wasn’t the only reason he was looking, though. Which was where the list of issues went from miniscule to colossal. Maybe there was a teeny tiny chance that Pandora was right when she said things changed, and maybe there was a similar chance that Sirius was somewhat accurate with his observations – because Evan couldn’t stop staring. 

Even though Barty didn’t do sports, or really work out all that much in general, he was naturally lean and unfairly muscled. His waist was one that Evan worked for months for before even getting a glimpse of, what type of person would he be to not look? 

Besides, it was right there in front of him every single morning. He’s just finding something to distract himself from the actual thought of running. That seemed right. 

—

The quickly-becoming-familiar thwack! of a tennis ball landing in Barty’s hand rang out ten, twenty, thirty times before he held a hand up for a break. After bingeing a disturbing amount of hockey movies, the two of them came to the conclusion that Evan needed to throw anything and everything at Barty to improve his reflexes.  

Evan was more than pleased to have an excuse to throw things at him, and by the progress over the few days since then. Maybe Barty really would shape up to be a decent goalie. 

“‘M thinking of getting a piercing,” Barty panted out, bending over to rest his hands on his knees. Today was the first day of extending their routine and it wasn’t going all that well. They’d already run for far too long, deciding to stop at the field on their way back to practise near the goal. Evan wasn’t really aiming to get the ball in, especially since it was so small, but he was pretty sure he read some article about practising where you perform. 

“A piercing?” Majority of the girls in their dorm had different piercings. It seemed like it was becoming something among the guys, too, though.

“It’d look awesome and it’d piss my father off, so it’s perfect.” 

Yeah, alright. Seemed like a nice plan. “Where would you even get it?”

“Didn’t really think about that part yet,” Barty admitted, lifting his head up from where he was hunched over.

“I like that kids, what’s his name? The nose one,” Evan bent down to tie his shoe tighter, frowning until he answered his own question. “Ethan. Septum.” 

“Yes! That one, that’s the one I want. Those look good, but maybe just my ears. Maybe both. Probably both.” 

Evan knew Barty would do both, so he decided he’d do his ears. Only if they found somewhere professional to get it done, though. He didn’t want an infection or anything, like Dorcas did when Marlene pierced her ears in the locker room. That was nasty.

Barty, instead of agreeing on a shop, announced that he’d already ordered piercing needles and a few different earrings. The supplies would be there within a week. 

—

It took more sweat-through shirts than it should have for Evan to stop bringing one in the mornings. The lack of clothes shouldn't have felt as weird as it did, but he was immediately hyper aware of every single time Barty looked at him. He wasn’t self conscious of his body – he was fairly certain of that – but every time Barty glanced over, he felt like he needed to look away. Like he was standing there butt naked and blushing. 

They only did half of their route this time, stopping in the field to pass around an abandoned ball instead. 

For never really playing goalie before, Barty was improving quickly. By the time tryouts came around, he’d be good. He was tall, but still the right height to be quick on his feet, which was probably the most important part. Somehow, they’d also discovered he can jump unusually high, which definitely helped his case too. 

Evan stood a bit into the field, passing the ball from foot to foot before sending it flying at Barty, who dove and caught it in his arms before whooping loudly. 

“Did you see that? Damn, I’m good,” He sat up from the dirt, grinning triumphantly. His hair was full of cut up grass, mud stains already evident on his skin as well. Evan had to bite down on his lip to hold back a grin. “I’ve got a good teacher, too, I guess.” 

Evan swore he saw Barty look him up and down. 

“Oh, hot for teacher or something?” Evan teased, stilling for a moment before hearing Barty laugh. Thank God.  

“Definitely,” The words hung painfully in the air before Barty shook the grass out of his hair and kicked the ball back to Evan. “Let’s do that again?” 

—

Since Evan didn’t have much of a say on how they would be pierced, he declared they at least needed to wait for the house to be empty apart from the two of them. In a stroke of luck, things lined up that his Mum, Grandma, and Pandora were going on some sort of weekend trip together, leaving the two of them behind. 

His Dad had already gone back home. He and Evan’s Mum got along better now, but he still had to travel a lot for his job – and generally was a bit of a hater when it came to the lake house. Loser.

After playing the oh-so-incredibly-disappointed part while the three of them backed out of the driveway, they both sprinted back into the house as soon as the car went around the corner. Evan was somewhat surprised that they even left, seeing how reluctant his Mum was to leave the two of them all alone for a weekend. 

Ten minutes later, they stood in front of the bathroom sink with a bowl of ice, a still-wine-stained cork, the first aid kit, and the rest of the supplies Barty ordered. During the wait for the supplies, it was decided that Evan would do his ears and Barty would, predictably, do both his ears and septum. 

As they waited for the YouTube tutorial to run through its cycle of ads, Barty sat on the toilet with ice cubes pressed to his ears. Apparently, they were supposed to help numb the area a bit. Evan hoped it was true, he already didn’t have much interest in letting his fifteen year old friend stab through his flesh. 

Well, Barty turned sixteen a bit ago, but Evan knew his brain wouldn’t be catching up to that age for a while. 

They watched the tutorial twice to make sure they mostly understood it. Evan was somewhat confident in his ability to do Barty’s ears, but not so much when it came to his nose. That seemed very far outside of his skill set.

Barty stayed sitting on the toilet while Evan wiped off his ears, throwing the wipe somewhere in the room before getting ready. “Are you sure about this?” 

“Yup, why? Scared?” 

“I’m about to stab a needle through your flesh, and then you’re going to do the same to me. This is a stupid idea,” Evan situated the needle at the marks they made while he talked, fumbling with the cork for a moment. It wasn’t that Evan wasn’t excited, he was, but rather that he was still hung up on doing it themselves.

“Sounds like a great idea to me,” Barty shrugged, his eyes flicking up to meet Evan’s for a second. “You can do it, we watched the video like eight times–” 

“We watched it twice.” 

“Close enough. You won’t fuck it up, just go.” 

Evan pushed the needle. It went through much easier than expected, which he didn’t know if that should freak him out or not. “Oh, shit!” 

“What?” Barty turned his whole body towards the mirror, bringing his own hand up to his ear where the needle still hung. “Sick!” 

Carefully, Evan replaced the needle with a studded earring. If you didn’t look too closely, it looked pretty decent. 

The other side turned out somewhat uneven, but Barty didn’t seem to mind. He was vibrating with excitement regardless of how they looked.

A few minutes later, they swapped spots. Barty was holding onto Evan’s jaw, focusing intensely on making the markings mostly even with each other. His fingers were fucking freezing. 

Barty licked his thumb, using his spit to wipe off marker that ended up in the wrong spot. Evan shuddered thinking about spit on his ear, but just glanced up to look at Barty’s growing-closer face instead. 

By now, he had every single inch of his face memorised, but it always seemed like there was more to see every time he looked at him. Barty’s freckles were finally dark, the weirdly-hot summer making them stand out even more. 

“See something you like?” 

Evan's gaze flicked away for a second before returning. “Your freckles are darker.” 

“They are?” Barty seemed genuinely confused, turning and leaning into the mirror until his forehead nearly touched it. “Huh, I never noticed.” 

They were obvious, at least Evan thought so. “I like them.” 

Barty turned back to him, holding onto his head once more to evaluate the dots. “You have a birthmark on your shoulder, it’s shaped like Africa.” 

“Africa?” Evan couldn’t really remember ever paying attention to anything with his shoulders. His head was tilted back and forth, up and down, rotated in every possible direction. He was starting to suspect Barty was a little more irked by the uneven piercings than he let on. 

“Yup,” Barty finally stopped his inspection and held the cork behind Evan’s ear, nudging the needle around until it was in the right spot. “Oh my god, hold still.” 

“You’re scratching my ear with a needle, B. I think that warrants being slightly uncomfortable–” He finished his sentence just as Barty shoved it through, realising he hardly felt it at all.

A minute later they both stood in front of the mirror, leaning in and turning their heads every which way. Evan’s were even. 

Barty’s septum bled a lot. They needed to throw out a towel or two, but it came out mostly right, so they agreed it was worth it. 

—

When she got home, his Mum did act like she was going to kill him – just as Evan predicted. 

At least his Grandma liked them, she actually spent that night’s dinner telling stories about doing her ears herself back in university. Apparently she used a safety pin and a potato to do it, which made Evan glad they at least had the right needles.

Pandora asked if they could pierce her belly button, citing that it was only fair.

Barty, of course, said yes without hesitation and was immediately threatened with dish washing duty for the rest of the summer. After everyone went to bed, Evan promised her they’d do it as soon as they got back to school.

—

When Barty said he wouldn’t leave again, he lied. 

Not really, but sort of.

After an unfortunate run in with Mr. Crouch on their running path, Evan was invited back over for dinner. At least, that's what they were told, but when they got there it seemed to be an entirely different situation than dinner.

First off, the piercings didn’t go over very well.

Then, Evan was stuck sitting at the dining room table in silence, Mrs. Crouch a few seats away from him. She was staring blankly at her lap, fiddling with what he assumed was a napkin. He was curious about her, but had the feeling that if he asked her anything she wouldn’t answer. She’d never been much of a talker the handful of times they’d met previously.

The food hadn’t been brought out yet, so they didn’t have anything to occupy themselves with apart from eavesdropping on the already-several-minute-long argument between Barty and his father. 

After school was brought up, and Evan snorted at one of Barty’s remarks about Regulus, Mr. Crouch asked for his son to follow him. They’d gone a few rooms away, so it was a bit difficult to hear what was being said, but the main parts were easy to pick out.

“What did I tell you, son? I told…you needed to get rid…boy! He puts a bad…on the family!” 

“Why can’t I have a friend of my own choosing?!” 

“You’re fucking obsessed…m! What are you, gay?” 

“And if I am?”

Evan froze. The air in his lungs disappeared, his eyes slowly moving to look at Mrs. Crouch. She looked pained, face stiff and eyes averted like she might cry. She didn’t look back at him. 

“No son…could be…!”

“Well, I…your fucking son, aren’t I?”

He wanted to get out of his chair. He should get out of his chair, right? Go and get Barty and get the fuck out of the house. 

Tentatively, he put his napkin back onto the table. Mrs. Crouch’s eyes darted over to look at him. She looked desperate. Evan didn’t know if it was for the arguing to stop, for him to get her son out of there, or for him to just leave. 

Hopefully not the latter, because he wasn’t going to leave without Barty.

He pushed his chair back, the dull drag of wood against wood filling the room. She nodded dismissively at Evan out of the corner of his eye, which he took as permission. Quickly, he made his way down the hallway the two of them had disappeared into earlier. 

“Of course…I always knew you were a…You’ve got your fucking…pierced and everything!”

“Would it…you to not think…image for once!”

Evan rounded the corner, stopping abruptly at the end of the hallway. Barty and his father were practically at each other's throats, their faces leant together and snarling. Neither of them noticed him. 

He strode forward, hoping to be able to just grab Barty and leave. 

Of course, that wasn’t how things worked out. 

Barty’s fathers head whipped around to look at Evan when he was nearly next to them, his face growing red as his eyes settled. “Oh, here he is, the boy that turned my son into a—” 

“Don’t fucking talk to him!” Barty yelled. His hands shook next to his sides. Clenching into fists and stretching out, over and over. For once, Evan was startled by the look in his eyes – something heavy and violent. He’d never looked that way before. 

“I’ll speak however I want, son.” Evan felt himself shrinking beneath Mr. Crouch’s stare. “How long has this been going on, huh? How long have you been—” 

Barty launched forward, using his father’s suit jacket as leverage to fling himself at his head. Immediately, Evan watched his fingers go for his father’s eye sockets, changing to his neck when his father swung back. 

Oh fuck.

His father fought back, fast and hard and heavy. It wasn’t long before Barty’s hands dropped from his throat and were clawing at anything they could grasp. There was blood flying, grunts of force slipping between both of their lips. 

Evan didn’t know what to do. What was he supposed to say? ‘Stop!’ didn’t seem like it would have much of an effect in this situation. He’d seen enough fights at school of people yelling that to no avail.

Instead, he stepped forward, tugging at the first fistful of clothes he could get. His original plan may have been to just tug Barty away and run, but now he just grabbed at whatever he could hold. 

An elbow slammed against his jaw, his grip going slack as he blinked through the flash of pain. Once confirming all of his teeth were still there, he grabbed more fabric and kept pulling, yelling incomprehensibly. 

After what felt like hours of very unsuccessful tugging, Evan met Barty’s eyes just as he bit down on his father’s ear. His father howled, hands dropping away from his son and clamping down onto his head. 

“Come on!” Evan wrapped himself around Barty’s torso and tugged, somewhat feeling like he’d have an easier time pulling a rabid dog away from a bone. 

A tense second passed before things seemed to click and Barty went stiff. Without a word, he grabbed onto Evan’s wrist and walked the both of them out of the house.

They walked in silence for almost five minutes, Barty only dropping his wrist once they were in the middle of the woods between the houses. His eyes looked wild and red-tinted bruises were already forming across his face and neck. “God, fuck!” 

“B, it’s okay, let’s just–” Evan muttered shakily, attempting to seem somewhat in control. His entire body was trembling, and he was pretty sure he would have started sobbing ten minutes ago if he wasn’t focusing on Barty – who was standing uncharacteristically still a few feet away.

“It’s not fucking okay Evan! My dad just…” Barty’s voice broke off with a cough, his hands flying around in an attempt to communicate what he meant. “My dad–! Fuck. I didn’t mean to—I shouldn’t have—I’m sorry .” 

From the moment that Barty learned how to use the word ‘ sorry ’ a year ago, Evan knew that he would say it far too often. “What’re you apologising for? You don’t have anything to apologise for. This is not your fault.”

Barty choked on his breath, some noise between a sob and a cough coming out. “I brought you here!”

It was impossible to ignore that Barty said ‘you’, rather than ‘us’. It made Evan’s chest ache, knowing that Barty didn’t give a shit about what his father did to him, but was rather concerned about what Evan overheard. 

“Stop,” Evan walked closer to him, grabbing onto his face to make their eyes meet. Barty’s were full of tears and it made him feel sick. “None of this is your fault. You didn’t do anything to deserve to be treated like that.” 

He skimmed a thumb over Barty’s cheek, unsure on what he was really supposed to do next. What he really wanted to do was go back inside and murder his father, but Barty was much more important than him. 

Barty’s lip quivered, just barely, before he bit down on it. “You’re supposed to be mad at me.”

That did him in, a small and pathetic noise rising from Evan’s throat. “Why would I be mad at you? I’m not angry. I’m scared , B.” 

He was scared. Pretty-fucking-terrified, really. He was scared to think about all of the times that Barty had trudged through the woods to go home to this . All of the times that Barty came back to him afterwards. 

“I’m sorry,” Barty whispered, looking closer to tears than he had before. “I try to not–I’m not like that.”

“No. No,” Evan furrowed his brow, blinking back tears. “I know that, Barty. I’m not scared of you. I could never be scared of you. I’m scared for you! I’m sc–You shouldn’t have had to grow up somewhere that you needed to learn to fight to protect yourself.” 

Barty grimaced, turning out of Evan’s grip. He stood silently for a moment, bringing a hand to grasp onto the back of his neck. “You’re bleeding.”

“I’m alright,” Honestly, Evan’s jaw reallyfuckinghurt, but he knew when to keep that to himself. His breath hitched. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Barty answered immediately, the words tumbling out of his mouth before Evan’s question really even left his mouth. That, of course, made the answer completely void, especially in combination with the lone tear trickling down his cheek.

“Think about it for a second, please,” Evan spoke lowly, more of a plea rather than a request. He’d been around Barty long enough to know that he’d trip onto a sword and say he’s just fine.

 “I’ll be fine. Just…ow,” There was a line somewhere between more and less concerning, and his answer was teetering back and forth along it. A small smile tugged at his lips. “You should see the other guy.” 

“I–Please.” 

—

After a painfully quiet walk home in the dark, they managed to climb into bed without seeing anyone or speaking a word.

“I could never be afraid of you,” Evan whispered. He wasn’t even sure if Barty was still awake, his breaths coming out steady and slowly from beneath him. 

A few minutes passed and there was no response, so Evan shut his eyes and did his best to sleep. It was hard to even think about sleeping. 

Just as he finally began to drift off, Barty replied. “I believe you.” 

—

The rest of the summer was unusually quiet. Barty didn’t want to do very much, which was understandable. Evan didn’t mind, either. If anything, he was thankful to be able to lay around for the majority of the day.

That being said, they still kept up with the football practice and occasional trips to the creek. They even went back to the abandoned house once after snatching a can of spray paint from the garage. This time, they finally painted their names rather than squiggly blobs. 

When they settled into the tent for the night, Evan found it funny how small it seemed now. Years ago, it seemed like if you were on the other side of the tent, you were on the other side of the world. Now, if the two of them laid in line with each other, they could cover the whole space. 

“Wait, who’s that?” Evan pointed at the laptop's screen. They were about halfway through Ready Player One and Evan hadn’t been paying attention in the slightest.

Not that the movie didn’t seem good, it did, but there were so many things to dwell over now that summer was coming to a close. 

It would be their second-to-last-year at Hogwarts this year, which brought on a variety of different issues. First, half of their friends would be leaving at the end of the year. Evan didn’t really mean to become friends with mostly the year above, but it wasn’t his fault that everyone in his year was irritating. 

The whole ‘whatthefuckamigoingtodowithmylife’ aspect was there, too. Evan knew he would go pro with football, at least for a few years, but then what? He wasn’t going to be able to play forever, not that he even wanted to, but what was supposed to follow that? 

A lot of retired players coach, or manage a team, or maybe even come up with some ridiculous shoe brand and slap their faces on cereal boxes. None of that sounded appealing in the least. 

Maybe that was a problem for a different day, a different time, one where he wasn’t sixteen years old and ignoring his best friends bickering. 

“..not even paying attention! Ugh,” Barty paused the movie, glaring at Evan before his gaze softened. “What’re you thinking about?” 

“Nothin’.” 

“The crushing weight of existing on the earth? Or maybe the pancakes at school? Or Regulus’ infatuation with James fucking Potter?” He guessed, moving to close the laptop all together.

“Nothing,” Evan shook his head with a groan. “Now I’m thinking about the stupid pancakes, though.” 

Hogwarts had a lot wrong with it, but if there’s one thing they could do there, it was make some good fucking pancakes. 

A long silence passed between the two of them, to the point that Evan nearly fell asleep. At the sound of Barty’s quick intake of breath, he opened his eyes and looked over at him.

“I don’t think I would ever come back here without you,” Barty laid on his side, walking his fingers across the plastic lining that covered the floor.

“I won’t leave, I’ll be here every summer.”

“Swear it?”

“Swear it,” Evan promised, just like he had for the last ten years. He knew without a doubt that he wouldn’t come back without Barty here either. 

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Evan and Barty’s plan went off without a hitch. 

Well, during tryouts Evan did get a little nervous that it would all be for nothing – especially after watching Barty tangle himself up in his own feet and eat shit twenty seconds into his turn – but both of their names were on the list. 

“Dude! Look!” Barty shoved Evan, his finger shoved against the piece of paper tacked onto the Great Hall’s wall. “Oh, we are getting so pissed tonight.” 

Evan blinked a few times, staring blankly where Barty’s finger wiggled around his name. Captain. “Holy shit!”

“What does starting mean?”

“Holy shit!” Evan repeated, this time reading Barty’s name listed next to ‘Starting Goalkeeper’.

“What? Is that good?” Barty looked at him, face scrunched in confusion. “Ow, don’t push me!” 

“You pushed me first, you baby. Starting means that you’re, like, captain of the goalies. Sort of. Close enough to that.” 

Barty’s eyes widened, a toothy grin raising on his face. “This is going to annoy the shit out of Reggie!”

—

Obviously there was a celebration in order.

Just like every other party, Evan let Barty pick what he wore. This time around, it was a cropped shirt paired with a pair of pants. Normally Evan refused to wear anything cropped, but Barty went completely red when he put it on, so he decided to go with it. 

“Do you, uh, have plans tonight?” Evan asked, holding his arms up in the air while Barty fussed with a belt around his waist. His fingers kept lingering along Evan’s stomach, making his skin burn. 

“Nope. Hoping Xeno has a joint or two, though,” Barty hummed, finally buckling the belt and backing up to look at his work. “You?” 

“I never have plans for these things. If Xeno has stuff, find me?” They both had football practice tomorrow, but neither of them minded showing up hungover or with residual highs lingering. The latter made early morning practises a bit more tolerable, actually.

Barty walked over to the mirror to judge his own outfit, which was the usual pairing of pants and a questionable top, and shot a ‘well obviously!’ over his shoulder. Evan’s gaze lingered on the flash of his waist, the way his muscles contracted when he twisted and turned. All of the training over the summer did him very well. 

When they finally got to the party, it was the usual situation of sticking with each other at the beginning before eventually getting separated until the end of the night. This time Ravenclaw was hosting, so Evan got sucked away into talking with his sister, Xeno, Regulus, and the rest of her friends. 

At some point last year, Xeno brought along a kid, Kirin, from the year below them into the group. Evan thought he was sweet, they’d studied together a few times for the classes they had together. There was a sneaking suspicion between him and Pandora that Kirin like liked Evan. Honestly, he was fine with that – Kirin wasn’t bad looking and was fun to be around. 

Maybe it was just what he needed. 

“So, Evan, excited about being captain this year? I heard Barty got onto the team, too,” Kirin asked happily, grinning at Evan from where he sat on the couch. 

“Oh, yeah, thrilled,” Evan eyed Regulus carefully, just in case the wound was still fresh, but he was staring off in the other direction. “Barty and I trained a lot this summer so he’d get on. Turned out pretty good, I’d say.” 

“You taught him, then? He looks great,” Kirin’s pupils were completely blown, obvious even in the shit lighting, it was clear he wasn’t on his first (or second, or third) drink of the night. “In more ways than one.” 

Evan just hummed in acknowledgement, gazing around the room before processing the words. “What?” 

“Hm? Nothing.” 

The two of them talked for the rest of the night, conversation ranging across quite literally anything. It only paused when Evan’s voice started to slur, the extra shots of firewhiskey hitting faster than he intended. He knew he should have eaten that extra roll at dinner.

“Want to get out of here?” Kirin prompted, putting his hand on Evan’s shoulder and muttering into his ear. 

Evan nodded, he was more than ready to go lay in his bed and with his luck, throw up in his own toilet. Kirin grabbed onto his sleeve, pulling him up and leading the both of them into the hallway. It felt like they were walking forever . 

“Mhm. Looking forward to my bed,” Evan muttered, focusing on each individual floorboard he stepped on. 

Kirin looked over at him, scrunching his brow just slightly. “Shit, you’re gone.” 

“‘M right here.” 

Evan blinked and they were standing in front of the Slytherin dorms. Huh. 

He turned to look over at Kirin, who was wrapping his fingers around the hem of Evan’s shirt. His eyes were disorientingly blue, bright enough that Evan wondered if he’d ever thought about brown contacts. There was a fleeting concern in the back of his mind that Kirin was reading his soul, his thoughts, whatever Professor X did.

“I was planning to kiss you,” Kirin talked slowly, like Evan was a child. He tilted his head. 

“I will kiss you another time, scout’s honour,” Evan laughed under his breath, thoughts not really settling on what Kirin wanted. He patted his pockets for the key to the common room, tugging it out by the lightsaber keychain Barty had gotten him years ago.

“You were a boy scout?”

“What’s a boy scout?” 

Kirin grabbed the dorm key out of Evan’s hands, unlocking the door and tucking it back into his pocket. He ushered Evan inside, but didn’t cross the threshold. “I’ll see you in class, Evan. Night?” 

“G’night.”

—

Evan kept his promise. Several times over, in fact.

He liked Kirin. The way that Kirin would push his hair back and tilt his chin, the way that Kirin would wrap his arms around him, the way that Kirin always seemed to know what to say when words locked themselves in his throat.

—

“Where’re you off too?” Barty’s voice came from the bathroom, where he was laid out across the floor. Whenever he felt remotely weird, he was always found there. This time around, his legs hurt from practice. Evan was clueless on what that had to do with the potential of vomiting – if that was even his concern – but by now, he’d learned to not ask questions. 

“Kirin and I are gonna walk around for a bit, I think? You need anything?” Evan called back, leaning back onto his bed while he wrestled a boot on. Barty talked him into getting them a few weeks ago and he very much so regretted it, grieving the sneakers he’d worn long enough to be able to slip them on quickly. They were still in his closet, but he felt obligated to wear the boots. 

“Mmph,” There was a small scrambling sound, presumably Barty crawling up to his feet, because he emerged from the bathroom a few seconds later. He looked all weird, arms crossed and a small frown lingering on his lips.  “I’m fine. I was gonna ask if you wanted to do something tonight – it’s, um, all good though. I’ll drag Reggie away from pretty boy or something.” 

“Oh. You sure? I mean, you can come with me if you want? Kirin won’t mind,” With a small pop!, his boot finally slid on. 

“Nope! No,” Barty answered far too quickly, heading for the door in an instant. His hand paused on the doorknob for a second, his head going over his shoulder just long enough to grunt out a quick goodbye.

“Bye?” Evan watched the door shut and wrestled the other shoe on in silence.

—

“That exam totally fucked me – I’m screwed,” Kirin covered his face with his hands, elbows nearly going into the plate of food he had in front of him.

“C’mon, I’m sure you’ll be just fine,” Evan bargained, patting him gently on the back. “Your grades are great. Regardless, I bet you did well – you say that same thing after every other exam.”

“No, not this time. It was bad, Ev,” Ev . Evan twitched at the sound of it, hardly holding back a quip about only his friends calling him that. Kirin was his friend, but not in the same way. Kirin continued to whine in the background of his thoughts. “My parents are going to murder me if I fail anything, they already say enough about the tuition and textbook costs.” 

That one Evan could agree with. He was still on a full scholarship for football, but Pandora only had a partial scholarship, and shit was the tuition high. Not to mention the costs of books and the ridiculously priced calculators they made students buy (Evan was pretty sure he’d only needed it once so far).

“You’re not gonna fail. We can go to the library more or something, I have good marks in that class.”

Kirin lowered his hands, tucking them into his armpits instead. He looked over at Evan, hair sticking every which way and lips down turned. “Of course you have good marks in that class. You have good marks in every class.”

“Don’t really have any other option,” Evan pointed out, heart twinging when Kirin’s face dropped. He chased after his words, trying to cover it up. “I know you didn’t mean it like that.”

“I didn’t,” Kirin squirmed in his seat, glancing down at his food. “I’m not gonna eat this. You want to go back to yours? Mine?” 

With that, they headed out of the restaurant and began the trek back from Hogsmeade. It really wasn’t that long, but it always felt like ages.

Every now and then, Kirins hand would swipe over Evans back, like he was debating if he should hold onto him. His hand paused for even longer every time, feeling strange and unnatural. Evan didn’t say anything. 

Just as they were about to head back into the school, Barty rounded the corner with a football in hand. Regulus popped up behind him a few seconds later, James in tow. They’d been dating publicly for a few weeks now, only god knows how long they’ve actually been together.

“Hi Evan!” James waved, tugging Regulus closer. Barty glanced up from the ground, smiling softly before his eyes narrowed on Kirin. 

The drama.

“James,” Evan nodded, watching Kirin stick his hand out from the corner of his eye. He was hoping they'd be able to escape without the whole introduction thing, but of course Kirin just had to be nice.

“Hi, I’m Kirin. Evan’s, uh, friend,” He was smiling, turning to greet the other two. “Regulus. Barty. Did you guys have football practice tonight?” 

Fuck, did they have practice? 

Barty shook his head, eyes slightly narrowed. He looked like he was tearing Kirin apart in his mind. Or maybe he was tearing Evan apart, it wasn’t all that clear. “No, uh, we just did a scrimmage with a few other people. It was whatever.” 

“Shit, I would have shown up if I knew. I’m probably supposed to be at those things,” Evan scratched at the back of his head, tugging his coat around him a little tighter. 

“Barty didn’t tell you?” Regulus spoke up, Barty’s elbow slamming into his side as soon as the words left his mouth.

Evan did his best to hide any form of surprise, feeling his stomach drop just slightly. He bit down on his lip until he felt the faint taste of blood. “No, he didn’t.” 

“I forgot. I meant to tell you,” Barty chased, looking incredibly insincere.

“You’re fine, I had plans anyways,” Evan stuck his arm behind Kirin, more so hovering over his back rather than touching it. It seemed to do the trick, Barty’s face twisting in response.

“I–We gotta go. Right?” Barty blurted, not even waiting for James or Regulus before he started to walk off. James shot an apologetic look over his shoulder, while Regulus looked like he was holding back a laugh. 

After a few seconds of silence, Kirin turned and looked up at Evan. He shifted his weight a few times, scuffing one of his shoes against the cement loudly. “I don’t think Barty likes me very much.” 

—

“Are you and Hufflepuff a thing now?” Barty coughed, passing the joint back over to Regulus.

All of them, meaning Evan, Barty, Regulus, Dorcas, Marlene, and Pandora had climbed onto the tiny space of roof that was reachable from a window in the Ravenclaw common room. It was a miserably tight squeeze, but there weren’t many other places to go.

“Are you not bored of asking about this yet?” Evan raised his eyebrows, running his fingers along the rough tiles of the roof. 

Barty went silent, staring at him with a pale face. For a second, Evan wondered if he was being too harsh about it, but god was he annoyed by it. All of the times Barty hang around someone, Evan didn’t say a fucking word, what was the issue when roles were reversed? 

Marlene lifted her head from Dorcas’ lap. “Hm? Evs got a girlfriend?” 

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” He huffed, tucking his knees up to his chest. “Besides, Kirin and I are just friends.” 

“Our Kirin?” Marlene asked, rubbing her eyes.

Regulus scoffed, reaching back into his bag of popcorn. Whenever they smoked, Regulus consumed that shit. “You are all painfully oblivious.”

Evan grit his teeth, letting his forehead rest against the top of his knees. He figured it was about time to discuss whatever was going on, Barty lasted a lot longer than he expected him to. Well, lasted without saying anything. There had been plenty of suspicious glances and frowns from him the past few weeks. 

They weren’t dating though. Sure, they hung out. Sometimes they shared a peck or six, sometimes they just sat at the lake and talked. Nothing more than that. 

“You’re always with him,” Barty whined, pouting. It seemed like he was trying to be playful with it, but Evan still felt a flash of defensiveness.

“Yeah, friends usually do this thing called hanging out. What’s it to you, anyway?” 

Next to him, Evan heard Pandora cough. It wasn’t in a ‘wow my lungs are fried’ or sick way, so he glanced up just in time to catch Regulus giving a weird wide-eyed shrug in Barty’s direction.

“Jesus,” Dorcas snorted, her hands tangled in Marlene’s hair. “The kids are fighting, babe.” 

“We’re not fighting,” Evan and Barty spoke at the same time, eyeing each other. To prove his point, Evan scooched over until he was pressed against Barty, who very clearly did his best to not stiffen.

Okay, so, maybe things were weirder now that Evan was hanging out with Kirin more often. Getting caught just as Kirin pressed a kiss to his lips in the library the other day wasn’t much of a help, either.

Pandora shifted on Evan’s other side, now further away, and ran a hand through her hair. “Did you guys know it’s a full moon tonight? And there’s this retrograde thing going on…”

—

“Hey, did you see what Filch posted? About curfew?” 

Evan startled awake, lifting his head out of his arms. He’d come to the library hours ago to attempt to learn some material, but clearly it didn’t go very well. He looked up, finding a very anxious Kirin staring down at him. 

“Mmhm? No,” To be perfectly honest, Evan couldn’t give a shit about curfew. It wasn’t that he was breaking the rules, the only times he stayed out past was if there was a party. Rather, it was the fact that he was consistently in bed early enough to be teased by the rest of his dorm-mates. 

So he likes a good night's sleep, sue him.

“Oh, you look like shit,” Kirin plopped into the chair next to him, brushing the stack of discarded papers and books to the side.

Yeah, so maybe the whole ‘good night’s sleep’ ambition wasn’t going his way at the moment. Evan wasn’t used to always sleeping alone. 

He and Barty were still…something. Squabbling. Mediocrely-pretending-to-be-upset-with-each-other-over-things-Evan-was--only-slightly-aware-of would probably be a better way to put it.

Well, Evan was aware of what could be the issue, but he didn’t see much of a reason behind it. Barty was jealous over nothing. 

Either way, it left them out of each other’s beds and with uncomfortable interactions for the past two weeks. It made Evan want to claw his skin off, throw himself in front of something moving very fast, things like that. 

Did he say anything? No. He wasn’t going to be the first to bring it up, he didn’t want to be a little bitch about it. Barty was a big boy, he could deal with his jealousy on his own. 

Potentially.

“Ugh,” Was all Evan responded with, letting his forehead drop back onto his folded arms. 

A hand settled on top of his arm, a thumb moving back and forth in a way that was probably meant to be soothing. Normally, Evan would find it as such, but this time around it just made him want to scream. 

He shook the hand off, relocating his arm-pillow a few inches over – out of Kirin’s reach. 

“What’s up? Is something wrong?” 

“What’d Filch put up?” Evan replied, talking directly into his sweater. Wasn’t even close to a good attempt at misdirection, but Kirin seemed to take the bait after a quick beat of silence.

He sighed, fingers tapping along the wooden top of the table. The sound of it made Evan feel even worse. “Just that he moved it to be earlier, we won’t be able to see each other as much.”

“Oh,” Evan mumbled, tilting his head so his words were more understandable this time. “Well, we can still hang out in class and stuff?” 

“Yeah, I mean, I guess. Just…don’t really want to kiss you in front of our entire history class. I really like hanging out with you, you know.” 

Huh?

Slowly, Evan lifted his head. He could feel redness creeping onto his cheeks, but he really just wanted to ignore that Kirin said that at all. It’s not like they were shagging each other or anything. They were hardly even kissing.

Well, Evan didn’t know the average hang-out to kiss ratio, but he’d assume it was pretty low when compared to that.

Still, no offence to Kirin, but he could drop the kissing act between the two of them and be right as rain. From his perspective, it was more of a ‘hey, we’re friends, you’re cute, let’s kiss and never think about it’ thing rather than ‘I want to stick my tongue down your throat and make us official’ thing.

“I-Uh,” He glanced around the room, drifting over the very few stragglers that still milled around. Outside the large windows, it was nearly pitch black. 

Shit, did he miss dinner?

“You’re being weird,” Kirin pushed, his eyes growing soft. “Are you okay?”

“I’m not being weird,” Evan reached across the table to grab the mound of papers, pulling them into a somewhat neater stack in front of him. “I just haven’t been sleeping well. Exams and stuff.”

Clearly unconvinced, Kirin geared up to speak again. So Evan pushed his chair away from the table, leaping out of it as if it was lit on fire. 

“Did I miss dinner? God, I’ve been sitting in here all day. Fucking starved.”

—

The sounds of arguing lingering in the staircase up to Evan’s room weren’t exactly uncommon. It’s to be expected if you put Regulus and Barty in the same vicinity. It doesn’t matter that they’re close friends, and have been for ages, as soon as they find something to argue about, all bets are off.

Evan hovered a few steps away from the door, taking a deep breath in an attempt to prepare himself. 

“You’re being ridiculous, Crouch,” Yikes, the last name. 

“This,” Evan figured Regulus was gesturing to something, but without being able to see him, it just seemed stupid. “...is nobody's fault but your own!”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Footsteps creaked past the door, returning seconds later. It was probably Barty pacing. 

“You just love to self sabotage, it’s fucking pathetic,” Evan froze, hand paused above the door knob. This was probably the part where he should definitely intervene, but yet he couldn’t move.

Barty laughed. “Self sabotage? I didn’t even do anything!” 

“That’s the problem, isn’t it?” Regulus’ lowered voice was what made him finally turn the knob. 

“You have to be joking. The problem is that he’s—!” 

A floorboard creaked beneath Evan’s weight and the room went silent. 

He glanced between the two of them.“I wanted to make sure you guys weren’t killing each other.”

“Hm, perfect timing,” Regulus said, head tilted to the side and looking all too innocent.

Barty didn’t say a thing.

—

A week later, Evan decided he was at his wits end with Barty.

He was still doing his whole grumpy, dramatic, asshole thing, making pretty much everyone who spoke to him miserable. 

They’d just gotten back from dinner. Barty was curled up in his bed, flicking through some comic book he’d grabbed at Hogsmeade a few nights ago. Evan tugged his shoes off, still the fucking boots, and started to shed every possible layer of clothing. 

“Is Kirin coming over tonight?” Barty looked up at him, his eyes seeming to catch on Evan’s bare chest rather than his face. He tugged a jumper over his head.

“Doubt it. He’s all obsessed with Filch’s new curfew shit.” 

Pages rustled before Barty said anything back. “Mhm.” 

“Why?” Evan figured now was as good a time as ever to push on it. Maybe he’d finally get a real answer, one that wasn’t just a mumble or dismissive shrug.

“Dunno. Was gonna ask if you, uh, need the room.” 

Maybe it was said naively, after all Barty didn’t really know anything about Evan’s sexuality status, but it hit where it hurt nonetheless.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Evan paled, brain teetering between wanting to chop Barty into tiny pieces and needing to vomit everywhere. “Oh, that’s fucking rich, Barty.” 

Barty sat up this time, tossing the comic book onto his nightstand. He didn’t look surprised at all by Evan’s reaction, his face void of any emotion. “What? I’m being courteous.” 

“What the hell is your issue? You’re–You’re fucking obsessed with him! You’re making everyone miserable with this act, you know that? Every single time I even hangout with him, it’s like I have to tiptoe around you for the next twenty four hours. Everyone does! Now you’re interested in our sex lives too? Jesus Christ, B. You need to get it together.”

“And since it interests you so much, we’re not together. We’re not shagging each other. There is nothing between us. Yeah, we’ve kissed a few times. Is that the issue?” Evan snapped, standing at the edge of Barty’s bed. 

“Ev–” 

“I’m not done. Is that what the issue is? That you want to date him or something? Well, go ahead, he’s a great kisser too.”

Barty’s jaw tightened, his eyes shifting to look like something else entirely. Evan continued.

“Or, or is the issue with me? Is it the fact that I’ve made a different friend? That we aren’t attached at the hip every waking moment of the day?” 

“I’d hardly call the two of you friends,” Barty scoffed, or he tried to, because it came out sounding like he was on the verge of tears. For some reason, it only made Evan more upset.

“I can’t do this with you right now,” He walked back over to his bed, tugging the throw blanket off of the edge and onto his shoulders, and headed for the door. 

“Evan? Wait!”

He let the door slam behind him.

—

When Barty came around to apologise the next morning, it didn’t take more than two minutes of hearing him out for Evan to forgive him. 

It was most definitely a severe character flaw, he was confident in that, but he didn’t have it in him to stay angry with Barty – not after he was all teary eyed in his bed, admitting he was being a jealous shit.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t relishing in it, though.

“It freaked me out, you not being around. Seeing you and him–Hearing about–I just.”

“I forgive you,” Evan reminded, having already said it once before. 

“No, you don’t. You deserve like, twenty more minutes of grovelling. I prepared a long enough apology for that, too. Sit tight,” Barty sniffed, his eyes red lined. Evan didn’t really have a reason to cry, he was the only being apologised to for fuckssake, but that didn’t stop him from wanting to cry. 

Maybe this was what Pandora was talking about when she said his star sign was overly empathetic. 

“It’s. It’s always been us. I was scared.”

It was always them. Evan and Barty. Barty and Evan. For their families, it’d been that way since they were seven. For everyone else, since they were twelve.

“It’s still us, I don’t think there could ever not be an us.” As soon as he said it, he realised it made it sound like it was a romantic thing, but he didn’t bother to change it. “Swear it.”

“Stop being nice, you’re supposed to still be upset with me,” Barty groaned. “I was being awful, Ev. I’m sorry, really. I’ll even apologise to Kirin.”

That surprised Evan. “You’ll apologise to Kirin?”

“For you, yeah. I know that doesn’t fix anything. I–I can wait, if you need to. You know. Think about it, I guess. Actually, I’m going to wait. You’re going to make me wait.”

“B–”

“Evan Harper Rosier, let me finish!”

—

Barty wasn’t kidding when he said he’d make Evan wait. He wasn’t joking about the grovelling thing, either, because it continued past the rest of his (shockingly heartfelt) speech.

In fact, right now, Barty was running off to fetch Evan something from their room – no complaints, no jokes, just an ‘ of course! ’ and he was off. 

Regulus was stretched out on the floor just beneath his dangling feet, head parked on James’ lap. Every now and then he’d nail the shit out of Evan’s foot with his fist, but it wasn’t enough to make him move. “I put money on him giving up on that by the end of the week.” 

“I think it’s sweet,” James fawned, rubbing a thumb along Regulus’ cheek. Evan thought they were disgusting. “Barty’s always been like this for you. He’d jump off a cliff if you told him to, Evan.” 

“I think he’d jump off a cliff if anyone told him to,” Evan countered, shivering. The Slytherin common room had a fireplace, but it wasn’t a very good one, and it’s not like the stone walls provided with much heat. 

“He’s been wrapped around your finger since we met,” Regulus curled up tighter, very clearly elbowing Evan’s ankle on purpose in the process. “It’s disgusting.” 

“Shush, Reg,” Pandora squinted her eyes open, having been ‘asleep’ in the corner for the past thirty minutes. “I agree with James, it’s sweet!” 

Footsteps thudded down the stairs, Barty popping out of the doorway with a blanket and jumper in arm. “What’s sweet?” 

Pandora closed her eyes again, tucking her feet beneath her. “You’re sweet.” 

If someone saw Barty, they would have thought he’d just been awarded millions of pounds. “Aw! Thanks, Pan.”

He pressed the jumper into Evan’s open hands, climbing up to sit next to him before throwing the blanket around both of them. “Now I just need to get your brother to agree.” 

“Wha–?” Regretfully, Evan could feel a blush creep up his cheeks. “I think you’re plenty nice.” 

“Nice and sweet are not the same thing,” Barty argued, rubbing a hand up and down Evan’s arm once he tugged the jumper on. It wasn’t doing a thing to get him warmer, but he didn’t mention it.

Instead, he just grumbled and leant back against Barty – trying his hardest not to think about seeing Kirin that night.

—

It was a good year for Slytherin football. So far, they were completely undefeated. They’d nearly lost to Gryffindor a handful of times, usually only making it past by the skin of their teeth, but they still managed to make it through – which was all that really counted.

Naturally, Evan took that opportunity to practically work everyone to the bone for more than just a few weeks. At least they would all be more than ready for the rematch in a week, right? 

Slytherin had to win. As far as Evan was concerned, it was the only option. 

“Evan, it’s not that serious. Can’t you see everyone is about to practically pass out?” Regulus was panting next to him, digging through his bag for a water bottle. The air was cold, which definitely made it significantly harder for everyone to catch – and hold onto – their breaths. Evan surveyed the field, watching everyone practise passing drills. Barty and some second year were trading turns in the goal. 

“We’re going to win.” 

“That’s not even close to what I’m talking about. You won’t have a team by then if you keep this shit up. Dorcas’ knee is going to fall apart on her before then.” 

Dorcas fucked over her knee in third year, having it kicked in by some Ravenclaw. She was out for the rest of the year and majority of fourth year, at that. Evan always kept her playing on the field for shorter times, only putting her on whenever it was really necessary. She was one of their best players, he wasn’t going to risk it. 

“I’ll take her out then. Was going to give everyone the weekend off, anyway,” He shrugged, pulling a whistle out from his pocket to mark the end of practice. Everyone on the field groaned loudly, chatting as they shuffled their way toward the locker rooms. 

“Just…be careful,” Regulus slung his bag over his shoulder, glancing over at where the Gryffindor team was walking on. More accurately, glancing at James. Evan sighed. 

“I don’t need your advice, Reg. I’ve got it,” He stuck his hand up to grab onto a ball, spotting Barty launching it at him from the corner of his eye. 

“How do you always catch it?” Barty launched himself at Evan, giving him a split second to wrap his arms around his legs so neither of them fell over.

Luckily, he was more than used to doing it by now. “You reek.” 

“You wound me, Rosie.”

“Trying out new ones, are we?”

Barty hummed in his ear, chin digging into his shoulder. His wet hair was rubbing up against Evan’s face, who’s hair was equally damp with sweat. Still didn’t make it any less gross feeling. “Like the flower, suits you. Pretty and spikey. Definitely not because of your last name either, I’m far more creative than that.” 

“Oh, so you think I’m pretty?” Evan snorted. He shoved half of the things on the bench into Barty’s hands, which still were slung around his neck, before starting off towards the showers.

“The prettiest,” Barty whispered, his grin pressing up against Evan’s ear. 

Evan’s hands tightening around where he held onto his thighs, enough that he had to focus on not doing that before his nails joined in on it. Instead of answering, he focused on heading towards the locker room at a snail's pace – it turns out Barty plus a bunch of equipment was much heavier than he expected.

By the time they made it in there, and Barty dropped everything onto the supply table, the crowd was thinning out. Understandably so, everyone wanted to shower in their own bathrooms rather than the gross ones there.

Barty’s voice returned, just as distracting as it was minutes ago. “What’re you thinking about? The game?” 

“Uh, yeah,” Evan muttered, dropping his hands away so Barty could jump down. “I know it’s really not that big of a deal. I’m being dramatic over it all.” 

“We’ll win. You’re in charge, afterall,” Barty reassured him with his stupid smile, turning around before skipping off to the showers. He was probably the only one who liked the locker rooms showers, insisting that the hot water lasted forever. Evan still refused to touch those things, he was pretty sure that if he looked at the ground for longer than thirty seconds he’d be able to see the bacteria on it.

—

When Evan showed up at Kirin’s dorm, he should have known it wasn’t going to go in his favour. 

Kirin had asked him to meet him there once he was done with classes, which wasn’t particularly unusual, but what was unusual was being greeted with a kiss and pushed into the wall. 

Evan pushed him off, raising his eyebrows. “Hi?”

“Hey,” Kirin smiled lazily, putting his forehead against Evan’s shoulder. “Just happy to see you.” 

So, yeah, Evan was royally fucked. Atrociously, absolutely, completely, inescapably fucked. He knew he should have said something about it weeks ago, or it probably would have been better to do with when the whole thing started, but there he was – like an idiot. 

“Hey, so, can we talk about–” Evan started, shifting his weight awkwardly. He was cut off by Kirin practically leaping at him, reconnecting their lips. Once again, he pushed him off.

“What’s up?” Kirin was studying every inch of his face, looking confused. Evan didn’t know why, because this was nothing like what they ever did before. 

He left his hands on Kirin’s shoulders. “What’s up with you ?” 

“I dunno. We haven’t gotten to hangout like this in a while. I wanted to, uh, take advantage of our time I guess.” 

Evan could feel himself go white. “Oh.” 

Kirin blushed, looking away. “I–” 

“I’m not–No,” He admitted, words coming out jumbled and on top of each other. For a second, he wondered if he should look for the waste basket. 

The two of them stood close together for an uncomfortable amount of time, the fog only breaking when Kirin nodded, coughed, and spun around. “Okay, that’s okay. What was it you wanted to talk about?”

This was the part Evan was less than looking forward to, and now it was so much worse. How do you break up with the boyfriend you never dated, thirty seconds after shoving him off of you twice when he tried to make a pass at you? Great fucking question. 

“Uh, I wanted to clarify things between the two of us–”

“Did you come here to call whatever this is off?” Kirin whispered, managing to read his mind – per usual.

“Yes,” Evan said sheepishly. “I just, I need to figure things out. I’m…confused about things. I can’t do whatever this is, I’m sorry. Really, you’re, like, perfect and I’m so shitty for doing this now of all times. I’m sorry.”

“Just tell me it isn’t about Barty. Please?” This should have been expected, but alas, it wasn’t. It was unexpected enough that it felt like Evan was hit in the chest with a football, like he needed to catch his breath. He wrung his hands in front of him.

Kirin looked guilty, but genuinely curious. “I shouldn’t have asked that.”

“I shouldn’t be so surprised you did,” Evan moved to fiddle with his belt loop. “It’s a good, uh, hypothesis or whatever. It’s not about Barty, I promise.”  

Probably, anyway.

“Alright, okay. I really liked—really like you, but I get it. Maybe in the future, or something?” God, Kirin looked like a kicked dog begging to be comforted. “We can still be friends, right?”

“‘Course,” Evan didn’t specify which question he was answering, he wasn’t sure if he could bear to stare Kirin’s sad little puppy eyes any longer than he already had been.

—

The final game between Slytherin and Gryffindor came up quickly.

Slytherin was in the lead by one. It wasn’t even halftime yet, but Evan was sure he was about to topple over on the field. Gryffindor was running them in fucking circles, everyone could tell, but that didn’t mean they could just ignore the players darting around with the ball. 

They were faster than Slytherin, which didn’t help the case either. James seemed to be everywhere at once, sliding between players and jumping over swipes at his feet freakishly deer-like. 

Sirius only re-joined the team this year, and there was clearly still some sort of drama between him and Regulus. Evan thought they were good with each other again, but apparently not. They were going after each other the whole first thirty minutes, only stopping because the referee threatened Regulus with a red card. 

(In all honesty, Evan was surprised that was enough to get him to call off. When he asked about it, all Regulus said was “I’m an asshole, but I’m not a losing asshole”. Which, well, was fair.)

Now that they were in the middle of it all, Evan could hardly remember his own teammates' names. Instead, he was just screaming ‘ pass the damn ball! ’ and ‘ open! ’, alongside a number – if he was lucky enough to catch it.

Evan’s voice may be hoarse, but Barty looked fucking exhausted. He’d already thrown up behind the net after the first twenty minutes. Despite that, he looked absolutely murderous when Evan suggested switching out – and then very quickly backed up with his point by cussing out their other goalie. Typical.

As time continued to tick down, Evan and Marlene were shoving into each other with one goal; trip the fuck out of the other and get away with the ball. As soon as his feet gained a grasp on it, he swore he felt her teeth graze him. There was no time to fight for a call, so he did his best to cover the ref’s view and flung an elbow into her side.

“Oi, Rosier!” She screeched after him, but he was already heading up the field.

His mistake was glancing back at Dorcas when she yelled something, James taking the opportunity to swipe the ball out from under him. With a muffled curse – Evan couldn’t risk a red card now – he took off after the ball once more.

They grew closer and closer to Slytherin’s own goal, uncomfortably close even, Barty watching the ball on high alert while everyone else rushed forward. He was bouncing back and forth on his toes, eyes flicking between the ball and the rest of James, trying to predict where he’d go next.

Within a half a second, the sharp smack of James’ foot against the ball filled the air and Evan felt his stomach drop. He stopped, standing still as it flew towards the corner of the goal. It would be a tight one, one with a 50/50 chance of hitting the goal post. If Barty didn’t catch it, and it went in, it would probably be all the football teams would talk about for weeks.

Time seemed to slow as it got closer, despite the fact that the ball was moving pretty fucking fast. Whenever they did the god-awful testing at the beginning of the season, James always ended up at the top of the ranks for the power behind his kicks. 

Barty dove to meet it. Evan heard the ball connect with his chest and took a breath, eyes darting down at the grass while he let the rest of the sounds flutter back in.

He heard the quick thuds of Barty’s body starting to hit the ground, a brush of the grass as the force threw him backwards, but then there was something else. Something Evan didn’t know the reason for. He looked up just in time to watch Barty’s head collide with the hardly-padded goal post.

The stands went silent. Evan was fairly certain his heart stopped in his chest. Nobody was moving, not even an inch. They all waited for Barty to get up, flash his dumb grin and a thumbs-up, to say ‘damn, pretty boy! you love leg day for a reason, huh?’ but he wasn’t moving.

Not a twitch on his cheek, not the football-player-patented ow-ow-ow rock of a leg, nothing.

Evan’s world swarmed from nothing to everything all at once. He was sprinting forward, nearly tripping over himself while he skidded to a stop.

Barty laid still, the only signs of life being the fact that his chest moved quickly and his face was just barely scrunched into a twist of pain. 

“B? Barty? Barty?” Evan dropped to his knees next to him, grabbing his head in his hands. Barty’s cheek twitched underneath his grip, but nothing else. 

Gently, Evan locked his hands over Barty’s ears. There was absolutely no doubt he’d have a concussion, and Evan had no interest in making him hurt more from screaming right above him. “Can someone come and fucking help me?! Where’s Pomfrey?!”

There were a few more seconds of stunned mutters before Pandora came shooting over the fence that separated the stands from the field, dropping to her knees right across from him. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Dorcas throwing things around at the team bench – hopefully searching for the first-aid bag. 

“Don’t! Don’t touch him!” Evan snapped at the first glance of hands, the fact that the scarred pair belonged to Remus processing a moment later. 

“Okay, okay,” Remus pulled his hands back, raising them in a sign of surrender. As soon as Dorcas dropped the supply bag next to them, he started to dig through it. He pulled out a rag, holding it out to Evan. “Press this to the back of his head, we need to see if he’s bleeding, alright?” 

With a nod he gingerly lifted Barty’s head to gently dab the towel around. Blood came up from the back of it. Remus told him to hold the rag to it, that they needed to help it clot, before he, too, started yelling for Pomfrey. 

She still was nowhere to be found, but someone yelled back that she was on her way. Not fucking fast enough.

Blood filled Evan’s mouth while he hovered, having been biting down on his cheek as hard as he possibly could to keep the tears at bay. It didn’t work, of course it didn’t, he was hanging over his unconscious bestfriend. 

Through a cloud of tears, Evan vaguely made sense of Remus slipping his hand beneath his own, to stabilise the towel. He glanced down at his hands before saying something to him, watching how his hands were shaking so hard that Barty’s head was moving along with him. Fuck.

Pandora’s hand settled on the top of his back, the cold of her rings and bracelets making its way through the thin jersey material. 

Someone was talking to him. Maybe, probably, that seemed like a thing that people would do in this sort of case. His sister’s hand moved, calmly rubbing up and down. Evan wanted to push her off of him, to tell her to get away from her, to yell at her, but instead a single sob slipped through his lips. 

This time, she was the one yelling. “Where the fuck is Pomfrey?” 

It took five more minutes before she was by their side. She’d brought a stretcher, along with a couple of seventh years learning how to be healers, and was in the process of trying to manoeuvre Barty’s limp body onto it.

After the second try, Evan pleaded with her. He couldn’t just stand there. “I can do it. Stop, I can do it.” 

Cautiously, he slipped his arms beneath Barty and lifted him onto the stretcher – followed by Remus, who was still holding the rag to his head. 

Barty wasn’t very heavy but, as Regulus would describe it, built like a feral dog. Tall, mean, and lean. Evan could see it, the way his ribs never seemed to cover no matter how much he ate, and the muscle that seemed to appear out of nowhere.

As soon as he pulled his arms away, there was a hand on Evan’s arm and a voice in his ear. “I’ll take it from here, Mr. Rosier.” 

“What? What do you mean?” His voice wavered, even though he tried his hardest to prevent it.“You can’t just walk in here ten fucking minutes late and expect me to leave!” 

He wrapped a hand around a handle on the stretcher like a little kid, as if that would prove his point.

“Mr. Rosier, Evan is it? I promise you can see him immediately after I run tests, but I need to take him there now,” Her voice was soft, almost like she was begging with him. Evan shivered. 

“Evan, why don’t we go get some water?” Pandora’s fingers snaked around his free wrist, her face leaning into his line of sight. He stared at her, jaw tightening. “Come on, ‘Van.” 

Evan sucked in a breath, looking down at Barty’s unmoving face. He checked over his body, making sure that his chest still rose and fell and that he was alivealivealive. “Fi–Fine.” 

He dropped his hand away from the metal rod, letting Pandora tug him away. Pomfrey ran off quickly, disappearing into the doors that led to stadium tunnels connected to the school.

Evan blinked and they were sat on the team's bench. A water bottle was pressed into his hand, an arm wrapped over his shoulder, voices directed in his direction, but Evan couldn’t understand a single thing. He wasn’t trying to anyway, his eyes wouldn’t leave the doors. 

At some point, Regulus materialised in front of him. Slender fingers wrapped around Evan’s jaw, pinching down until suddenly he could hear again. “Rosier.”

They stared at each other. Regulus’ eyes were red-rimmed. Ha. The little shit does care.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Evan sniffed once, set the water bottle down, hunched over, and promptly vomited on Regulus’ cleats.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.” 

“Here, ‘Van,” Pandora stuck a towel in his grasp, probably trying to subtly tell him there was puke on his cheek. He stayed hunched over, staring at the torn apart grass. 

He needed to pull himself together. This wasn’t about him, he knew it wasn’t, so why did it feel like there was something inside of his chest, ripping and tearing at the things that mattered most to him? 

“I–I gotta go,” Evan wiped at his face and stood up, meeting eyes with James through the small huddle of people that still lingered.

“What? Sit back down, c’mon.” 

It wasn’t James’ fault, it wasn’t James’ fault, it wasn’t James’ fault.

But Evan was mad and upset and someone had to be blamed, right? 

—

As soon as Pomfrey tucked herself away in her quarters for the night, Evan climbed onto Barty’s bed and tucked himself in the corner. She told him she was breaking every rule in the book by letting him be in there past visiting hours in the first place, but she must have been able to tell he wasn’t going to leave. 

So, as long as he ‘kept an eye on Barty’ and kept the ice pack on his very bruised hand (correct punching form is not a natural instinct, apparently), she’d look the other way. Easy enough. Wasn’t like Barty was going anywhere.

She said she gave Barty something to sedate him, that it might take a while for him to wake up. From tests, it didn’t seem like there was any overwhelmingly serious damage, but she wouldn’t know for sure until he was awake. 

It was weird, sitting next to Barty without being grabbed onto or touched in anyway (or talked to, for that matter).  Usually, unless he was asleep, he could hardly keep his hands to himself.

They would trace Evan’s spine, or rub across his cheek, or brush up against his neck and make him shiver. Even when he was asleep, he always seemed there . This Barty was nothing like that. 

Instead, his horribly tattooed (afterall, he’d only given the fourth year eight pounds of a bunch of awful stick and pokes) fingers laid still – only moving when the mattress was jostled.

Still, Evan settled himself next to Barty and did his best to convince himself nothing was wrong. He didn’t sleep for even a second, eyes locked on the small, but steady, movements of Barty’s chest.

—

In the morning, Pomfrey came in saying a bunch of big words, poking at buttons on screens, and writing down numbers. Evan pretended like he was listening, nodding when it seemed appropriate, but he didn’t understand a single thing she said until just before she left.

“Do you happen to know the best way to contact Mr. Crouch’s family? They haven’t replied to my calls or emails. It’s obvious the two of you are close, so I thought I’d ask.”

His fingers twisted around the blanket. “They won’t be answering. I guess you can call my parents, if you have to, but his won’t be answering.” 

She hummed, frowning deeply before a flash of recognition seemed to pass through her eyes. With a curt nod, she said she’d be excusing Evan from classes for a few days and left. 

—

Regulus came later in the day, bringing Evan a change of clothes and his toothbrush. He still refused to leave Barty’s side.

It was tense.

“It wasn’t James’ fault,” Regulus spoke first, loudly dropping himself into one of the chairs next to the bed. He never did anything loudly, so Evan knew he was trying to make a point of some sort.

“I…I know. I wasn’t thinking. I just wanted to blame someone, and he made the most sense,” Evan ran a hand through his hair. He spent the majority of the night thinking about James, it was a little hard not to with how his hand still throbbed even now. 

“He’s fine by the way, James is. He feels awful, for the both of you. He told me to say that,” James had a heart that was far too big for his own good, because frankly, if the situation was swapped, Evan didn’t think he would say that.

“I’ll talk to him when Barty gets out of here,” Evan promised. Regulus just rolled his eyes. 

“You’re not going to leave until then?” 

“Wasn’t planning to. There’s food and showers here,” Evan spoke honestly. Why would he leave? He didn’t want Barty to wake up alone or confused. He needed to be there for him. 

Regulus laughed, loud and throaty and far more real than Evan had heard from him in a while. “Okay.” 

Evan scowled, “What? He’s my best friend.” 

“Evan, you haven’t left this room, let alone this bed, since you came here.” 

“I peed an hour ago.” He pointed to the bathroom in the hallway.

“Just saying, I would not sit here like that for you or Barty.” 

“Mildly offended.” 

Regulus groaned, picking up a pamphlet and flicking through it. The cover was plastered with some awful clipart, paired with the equally awful title of ‘PERFORMANCE ANXIETY: It’s Not Just For Teenage Boys’. “You’re so dense. The both of you, actually.” 

When Evan just watched him, he changed the subject. “Whatever. It’s Remus’ birthday, and I’m expected to show my face. So were you, but clearly you’re staying here with loverboy, so I guess I’ll just go alone.” 

“Don’t act like you aren't looking forward to your little sleepover,” Evan raised an eyebrow. Just as the words settled, he realised he should probably clarify what he meant, seeing as this was the exact scenario he lost it at Barty over. “Uhm, not in that way. Because we’re–you’re–we’re ace–I just meant, you know what I meant.” 

“Shut up.”

—

The first time Barty woke up, it wasn’t pretty.

Evan was on the verge of drifting off when he heard a low groan, quickly followed by a much louder complaint. Barty’s eyes were pinched shut, his head lolling off to the side in a mix of sedatives and apparently-not-working pain meds.

He leapt up from his spot on the bed, sticking his head in the hallway and calling for Pomfrey. This time around, she came quickly, injecting something into his IV and checking over his head with steady hands. He was knocked out before Evan could even sit back down.

—

It wasn’t until noon the next day that Barty awoke again, this time mostly coherent. Evan had woken up an hour ago, and was embarrassingly engrossed in some romance book he found in one of the other rooms when he felt something move.

He tossed the book off to the side, turning with wide eyes just in time to see Barty reach for his head. Evan slapped his hand away, somewhat convinced that just him moving would make everything worse. “Don’t do that, you idiot” 

“ Ow ,” Barty whispered, his eyes cracking open. “Mmmhm, Ev. M’ssed ya.”

“I’ve been here the whole time, dumbass.”

“Weeeeirdd dreams. I m’ssed ya.” Barty stretched his legs out, joints cracking. “What’s goin’ on?” 

Evan sat up a bit and brought his knees to his chest. “You slammed your head into the goal post during the game, bled all over. Ten stitches and a concussion.”

“Win?” 

“Game was cancelled. You looked dead,” Evan rolled his eyes, of course he would be more occupied with whether they won or not. 

“‘M okay.”

“ I thought you were dead.”

Barty blinked, tilting his head just slightly in some sort of understanding. “Can’t. Mmhm. Can’t get rid…of me that easily.” 

Evan didn’t say anything, glancing over at the dying flowers Pandora had dropped off. He could feel Barty’s fingers grabbing onto his pyjama pants, his leg twitching. 

“I swear it,” Barty’s voice was soft for only a moment, quickly taking up his usual joking-tone as soon as he deemed the moment as over. “Summer style.” 

“You’re an idiot,” Evan looked down at his pyjama pants, dropping his hand on top of Barty’s with a hum. It was stupid, but the words did make him feel a bit better. 

Barty yawned, taking a sip from a glass of water when Evan brought the straw to his lips.

“I’ve been hit in the head harder,” He had that grin, the somewhat cautious one where he knew Evan was about to bitch at him. He was right.

“You’re not funny.” 

“Yeah, because I’m hilarious.” 

Evan crossed his arms over his chest. “You have childhood trauma.” 

“It adds flavour, Ev,” Barty tsked, looking extraordinarily doped up on meds.

Pomfrey bustled in a few minutes later, shooing Evan off the bed so she could make sure Barty wasn’t lacking more brain cells than he had been previously. Not that Barty wasn’t smart, he was freakishly intelligent, just that he was, well, who he was. 

Somehow, they seemed to all have made it out alive, and as long as he didn’t start puking his brains out of anything, Pomfrey said he could leave within the next few days.

—

The next few weeks sucked. 

Barty was racked with migraines, ones so bad that he could hardly get out of bed some days. His grades tanked because of the absences. The letters from his father grew more and more frequent. 

Evan didn’t know they were still talking, but maybe it was one sided. It seemed like most things having to do with the Crouch’s were. 

Despite Evan’s best attempts of sneaking back into the room without a sound, he heard a quiet rustle of sheets and winced.

“Evvv?” Barty moaned, shoving his head beneath his blankets.

“I got you food,” He sat down on the edge of Barty’s bed, “Eat. You can’t take your meds on an empty stomach.” 

They learned that the hard way. All over Evan’s favourite sweater, too.

Barty reached his hand out from under the blanket, slapping it around in search of the plate. 

“Nuh-uh, the lights are off and the curtains are shut,” Regulus got blackout curtains for the room the day after Barty’s first migraine. He said they were so he wouldn’t be woken up by the sun, which was as close to a ‘hey, I bought these for you because I care about you!’ that Barty’d be getting. “You can emerge from your cave and eat.” 

“You suck.” 

“You swallow,” Evan handed Barty the plate when the blankets fell away, eyes lingering on his pout. “You need anything?”

“Nope. Just like I didn’t twenty minutes ago. Besides this, I guess.” 

“Oh, well, forgive me for caring,” Evan sighed dramatically, letting himself fall back onto the foot of the bed. 

“S’it’s okay, you’re cute when you care,” Barty spoke while chewing – Evan decided he could get away with it just this once , since he felt like death and all – his eyes squinted shut even though the room was practically pitch black. 

“So I’m cute now?” 

“Always have been,” Barty swallowed another bite, grabbing the loose pills off of the nightstand and setting the plate to the side. He swallowed them dry, which always made Evan want to gag. “C’mere?”

With a nod, Evan crawled his way up the bed and slid beneath the covers. Barty climbed on top of him until they were chest to chest, settling with a hushed whimper. Without hesitation, Evan threaded his fingers into his hair, the other hand moving to lay on Barty’s forehead. 

The weight and warmth of it helped, supposedly. He didn’t mind doing it, he’d stay there for hours if needed.

A few minutes of quiet conversation quickly dwindled to nothing, Barty’s words becoming slurred together and covered by yawns. Whatever the medication was, it always knocked him out for ages.

Barty sighed contentedly, latching his arms around Evan’s shoulders. Evan couldn’t see how it was comfortable, it wasn’t very comfortable for him, but he wasn’t going to question it. 

“I love you, Ev.”

—

It was several hours later and Evan still couldn’t seem to hold onto his breath. Of course Barty loved him, and he loved Barty, but it was never ever said in a way that wasn’t just ‘love you, moron.’ . 

The I meant something, right? 

—

Right? 

—

A week passed. 

Barty didn’t say anything about it, and it was eating Evan fucking alive. 

—

“This summer, do you want to go to mine for a bit?” Barty poked at his food with a fork, the noises of the Great Hall around them nearly swallowing his voice. School was over in a few days, so everyone was especially rowdy. 

“Yours?” Evan scrunched his face. There wasn’t even an ounce of him that desired to stay with the Crouch’s, he was surprised Barty was remotely suggesting it. 

“Not that house. Not with my parents, either, trust me,” They both seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. “There’s, uh, another one. By the ocean.”

He paused for a second, chewing on a piece of his dinner, but held a finger up so Evan would wait to answer. “I know you don’t get to see your family that much apart from the summer, so I totally understand if you don’t want to go. I just want to show you it but we don’t—” 

“Are you kidding? Mum and Grandma will be thrilled. Besides, I’ve always wanted to go to the ocean,” Evan was a lot more excited that he was trying to let on, biting down a grin. He’d never travelled much before, apart from going to his Grandma’s house. 

Between his Dad always travelling, and the fact that his Mum’s job wasn’t the most well-paying, there weren’t a bunch of options outside of her place. Evan didn’t mind, the best times of his life were at his Grandmas.

Barty blushed faintly, smiling. “Really? You’ll lose your mind, there’s a fuck ton of that seaglass shit you like. My Mum used to take me to this one diner, too, I hope it’s still there…”

By the time they finished dinner, they’d already written up a letter to Evan’s parents begging them to use the car.