The feelings bubbling inside of his chest hurt, they were selfish and possessive and something that was so unlike Barty. It's not like he was above being jealous, but his jealousy had never felt so raw and unfiltered before. He had never felt so insane and dizzy in the past, and the feelings bubbling and oozing out of every scar littered on his body scared Barty.
Barty himself scared Barty.
And if Barty feared himself, did that mean that his sweet Regulus did as well? No way. Regulus Arcturus Black, the heir to The Noble House of Black, was the one to fear. Not Bartemius Crouch Jr, the heir to absolutely nothing ever.
But, Barty could never fear his love, and he was probably the only person who can say that confidently. Regulus was the only one he could ever love more than he loved himself.
No, Barty feared the way he loved and adored his lover. Their love was rough, raw, unforgiving, possessive, and just,, well,, a qualified mess. They would get into silly little fights over silly little things neither of them would've noticed if it hadn't been for it involving the other.
Like-
Barty did not and literally could not stop himself from groaning both internally and externally whenever Potter and his goons came up to the Slytherin table during studying hours, or any of their meals, and spoke to Regulus. But, whenever the group was just existing around Barty, he never noticed them. It was only when Potter talked to Regulus that he noticed. And oh did he notice.
And Regulus would get grabby and needy whenever Evan or Pandora decided to be extra touchy with Barty, or if Barty had just made his rounds around the school to waste time (aka not being around Regulus). But, if Barty was around him for a good portion of his day, and Evan & Pandora kept their paws to themselves, Regulus wouldn't even think about being so unbelievably and uncomfortably clingy.
With that being a known fact, people knew that Regulus and Barty's... relationship was far from ideal or romantic, and most people would even deem it unhealthy or toxic, but the only word that had ever come to Barty's mind when reconsidering his relationship was intoxicating.
But, that was just the word to describe Regulus. The only word to ever describe him. Regulus would pull you in with his soft gray eyes, soft freckles, and addicting smile, and you would never be the same. But, Barty was okay with that. Barty needed that.
Barty, for a lack of a better word, craved Regulus. Craved Regulus' nails digging and scratching his already bruised and broken skin. He craved Regulus smiling and praising him for doing something as simple as waking up or breathing. He craved Regulus uttering soft and quiet sweet nothings and praise into his ear in French.
"Je suis si fier de toi, mon amour." Regulus would whisper quietly into the darkness of their shared dorm. His soft and delicate fingers would slip through Barty's fluffy curls and unknowingly untwist and untangle every single knot of thread inside and outside of Barty.
"Tu as été incroyable aujourd'hui," Regulus would start with a steady breath as the two of them sat in their common room, their hands laced together in a mess of fingers in the center of the mess of blankets and pillows that scattered and littered their floor. He would continue just as softly as before, "Vous ferez encore mieux demain." Regulus would finish the praising with a kiss to one of Barty's bruised and battered knuckles.
Barty never had a clue what these soft and delicate words meant, but he never threatened to ask. Mainly because Barty would do the same, but in Spanish. Whenever Regulus came specifically to his bed, and curled into Barty while trying to simultaneously curl into himself as well, Barty already had a few sets of words he'd adored to whisper into Regulus' ears.
"Lo estás haciendo muy bien, estrella." Barty would praise the head of soft black locks of curls. He'd run his cracked and calloused hands through a few ringlets as Regulus' breathing evened out slowly. He'd pull the ringlets apart and twirl the curls around his tan fingers. Similarly to how Barty would pull the strings on Regulus’ heart, twisting and tangling them until they fit nicely nestled next to Barty’s own.
Barty knew that Regulus didn't understand a word he had said, and Regulus has more than half the brain required to ask, but maybe that was comforting. Maybe Regulus enjoyed listening to Barty bark out nonsense in a language he'd never personally understand because he didn't understand what Barty was saying? Regulus got screamed at in languages he did understand, maybe he wanted to be praised in one that he didn't understand. One that he never had a desire to understand.
But, Regulus did know a few words, a few pet names he had learned the meanings of, and his favorite was Estrella. It translated to star. That was one of the few pet names Regulus allowed because it reminded him of his brother.
The brother who had run away, out of sight - out of mind, the brother who could only send glances his way instead of speaking to him. The brother that had burned the letter that Regulus sent him, right in front of his own eyes. The brother that had burnt and fried all of the unconditional love that Regulus had for him.
But, Sirius was still that very same brother that Regulus longed for more than anything. And Barty knew this, of course, because Barty knew Regulus like he knew his own wand.
"Él se preocupa por ti, cariño. Lo sé." Barty would whisper into Regulus' ear after they had passed the Marauders in the long and drawn out halls of Hogwarts. His heart ached deeply as Regulus would smile softly at the unknown words spoken to him directly.
Regulus would mutter a soft, "Merci, mon cher," with an earnest smile on his face, and a soft red shade covering his freckled, pale cheeks. Regulus would then grab at Barty's robes softly as he muttered the words, just to distract himself from the sinking feeling bubbling in his stomach.
Barty knew that he was a form of comfort for Regulus, and Regulus was the same for him.
But, he wasn't warm or welcoming at first. He was cold and standoffish. He used to scoff and roll his eyes whenever Evan, Pandora, Dorcas, or even himself tried to invite Regulus to Hogsmeade for some shopping or even to go to The Three Broomsticks. Sometimes Barty even saw crystal tears welling up in young Regulus’ eyes when Barty asked to help him with a rather tough potions assignment.
His soft gray eyes would cloud with doubt as Evan pleaded to be friends with the young Black.
But, eventually, the gray eyes filled and clouded with so much doubt and distrust soon cleared and showed honest and complete emotions. Regulus’ eyes held all of the pent up emotions that Regulus held so deep and close to his heart, and Barty had learned to pick apart the soft gray eyes rather than the tethered and withered mess that was Regulus Black’s heart.
But, Regulus’ soft gray met Barty’s own dark green more often than not, and everytime they did, Barty felt himself melt into a puddle.
Barty found himself melting around Regulus so often that it should’ve concerned him, but he couldn't help himself. Regulus was sweet when they were alone, soft spoken and his words always dripped with admiration. Barty loved listening to Regulus speak, even with French being his first language, he always spoke with such certainty and Barty couldn't help but flush when he did.
Barty found himself gushing about Regulus more often than before, when their relationship was more casual.
Their relationship started as a soft and anxiety filled kiss in the broom closet by their transfiguration class. It had evolved into chased kisses before and after classes, hand holding, cuddling, and sweet pet names. Then, what it was now, is practically a full-blow relationship. That fact alone, the fact that Regulus chose him over someone like.. Potter was thrilling.
But, god did Barty hate that guy. The boy couldn't even try and amount to the man Barty was today.
Barty saw red whenever he even thought of Potter's disgusting hands even grazing his amante (lover). Barty felt a deep feeling of jealousy and pain whenever Potter flirted with Regulus, and the feelings would bubbles and boil in his stomach until he threw up.
But he knew, logically, that his boyfriend wouldn't stoop as low as to date someone as desperate as James Fleamont Potter, but James Fleamont Potter was still a desperate git. A desperate git that Barty couldn't stand.
While Regulus was green, James was red. Regulus was sculpted from the hands of Merlin himself, James was just,, James. Regulus liked old muggle books, James still used the word "mudblood." Regulus was as swift as a cat, James was as clumsy as a baby deer. Regulus' mind was as sharp as a blade, James' was as dull as a spoon. Regulus was midnight rain, but James was a shining sun.
They were too different to be even considered compatible. Regulus knew this, and so did everyone else around the young Black.
"Me and Potter? God that's tout à fait ridicule." Regulus cursed under his breath after Dorcas had even hinted at the idea. Barty didn't know exactly what the French statement was, but he guessed it was something along the lines of "stupid" or "ridiculous." So, he agreed with his love.
Barty swears that people who even get to think about breathing around Regulus Arcturus Black were truly gifted by Merlin himself, which included Barty. He was truly very lucky to be blessed with the gift that is Regulus Arcturus Black.
Barty was so gifted and lucky to be able to look at the beauty, and kiss him. Hold him. Love him. Breathe in the way he smelled, the way he tasted. Barty was able to pick and prod at little holes that most others weren’t, and he was so blessed for that. He was blessed for being able to break apart Regulus and hear him whine, and moan softly. Whimper and whisper sweet nothings as Barty pleasured him slowly.
Barty thought on all of this, all of the different and intricate parts of his beautiful relationship, as he was staring up at the popcorn ceiling of his bedroom in his cold and lonely household. Sometimes, Barty could feel how cold and alone he was when he was tired enough. He could feel the low ache in his stomach as he ate dinner alone, and a shiver run down his back as he walked the empty halls of his home.
He was just about to roll onto his side to finally drift off into his dreamland, a land that was entirely his own.
Key words: just about to. That was before he heard the softest knock on his stained glass window. It was just like Barty's body responded on its own, like his brain could recognize this person's knock. Maybe Regulus was so ingrained into his brain, his everything is carved into Barty’s brain so deeply that his body responded to Regulus blindly.
He opened his window and stared into the gorgeous gray eyes that stared into his own.
"Salut, mon amour." Regulus greeted with a soft smile on freckled face. Barty smiled widely and crookedly, his face flushing a soft red color at the slight language barrier.
"Hola, mi amor." Barty replied sweetly.
Dark green stared into a starry gray gaze and Barty melted. He helped the young boy into his room, and closed the window tightly before turning on his heel to face the man of the hour.
"Hi," Regulus whispered softly.
"Hey," Barty replied even softer.
Regulus giggled lightly at the soft atmosphere before taking a hold of Barty's scarred hands.
Maybe the two weren't good for each other.
Maybe the bubbling feelings still hurt as they burned holes into his heart. Maybe Regulus hurt all the same as he carved his way into both Barty's heart and his brain. Maybe Barty's insane and raw jealousy was okay, at least with Regulus. Because Regulus was familiar, safe, soft, and Barty’s home.
Because Regulus reminded Barty of his popcorn ceiling.
Because Regulus was always there.
So maybe, just maybe, the intoxicating, demanding, and borderline insane relationship the two found themselves in was okay.
And as Regulus’ soft pink lips touched Barty’s own, he had this sense of security. A sense of relief. A sense of deep and unfiltered love. So, maybe… just maybe… they’d be okay.
Maybe they were safe.
Maybe they were in love.
And maybe, that’s okay.
Maybe they’re okay.