Chapter 3
“Get me coffee.”
Barty scoffed the moment Mary finished her sentence. If you could even call it that. He was tempted to hang up on her, but he knew better than to do that. “Can’t you do it yourself? Or maybe just order it through the app,” Barty replied, switching the phone to his other ear. The café was two blocks over from where he was, but he couldn’t really be bothered to walk the distance.
“No, I’m busy. And I’d rather not order through the app. Anyway, don’t you want to go see that blonde barista? Evan right?” Mary asked, and Barty could practically see her smug smile.
“Shut up, Macdonald,” Barty hissed. Mary cackled over the phone like the evil witch she was. “Fine I’ll go get your stupid coffee. Only because I want one too.” Mary let out a noise of disbelief, right before Barty hung up on her. She would be appeased with coffee anyway.
He walked quickly, doing his best to ignore his pulse, which was starting to pick up at the prospect of seeing Evan again. After what he had done last time, Barty was determined to get back at him.
Finally reaching the café, Barty pushed open the glass door. The bell chimed cheerfully, as Barty stepped through. “Welcome!” Lily called out, not looking up from where she was taking orders from the long queue of people. Ah. Barty had forgotten it was lunch time. The café was bustling with people, with more people streaming in and out the doors.
On instinct, Barty searched for blonde hair behind the counter. Regulus, Remus, Dorcas and Lily were all there. Where was Evan? Barty moved over to the display, showing all the food they sold. The muffin was looking particularly good right now. He considered getting one for Mary, being the amazingly nice friend he was. “Get your hands off the display,” Regulus snapped from where he was grabbing a brownie. Barty made a face, but complied.
Waiting, it was about twenty minutes before the crowd finally started thinning, and eventually, there was only Barty left. Barty started making his way to the counter. “Mary’s usual. Also should I get a muffin?” Barty wondered aloud. Regulus shrugged, already grabbing a plastic cup.
“Evan Rosier! Get your ass out here! It’s been twenty five minutes already! It’s my turn for a break!” Dorcas yelled right then. Barty’s heart skipped a beat, looking up immediately from where he was staring at the muffin. The curtains of the back room parted and Evan stepped out, flipping Dorcas off as he did so.
And oh. He looked absolutely beautiful. His light blonde hair was tousled, and the light brought out the even lighter strands. His brown eyes shone. His fingers were deftly tying the strings of his apron, and Barty stared, fascinated.
“Ow, fuck Regulus!” Barty yelped when Regulus hit his hand with Mary’s drink. He glared at him, taking Mary’s drink and the muffin, sealed nicely in a box.
“Smettila di fissare. Sembri uno sciocco malato d'amore (Stop staring. You look like a lovesick fool),” Regulus said, his Italian as fluent as always.
“Sembra dannatamente etereo, Reg. Non puoi biasimarmi (He looks fucking ethereal Reg. You can’t blame me)!” Barty protested, dragging his eyes away from the literal perfection named Evan Rosier. “Come una rosa. Sai (Like a rose. You know)?” Barty continued, pausing when it hit him. A rose. Rosier. He burst out laughing, and Regulus rolled his eyes.
“Rose? What do you know?” Evan asked, walking over. Barty raised his eyebrows in surprise. Evan knew Italian? From the looks of it, not a lot.
“Didn’t know you knew Italian either, Rose,” Barty replied, fidgeting with the plastic bag. He felt like he was testing the waters with Evan. Either way, Rose was the perfect nickname to fit Evan. Perfect, like him.
“Anddddd this is when I leave,” Regulus called, doing just that. Barty flipped him off behind his back. “Fuck you, Crouch.” Regulus added, disappearing behind the curtains. Barty dropped his hand, finally fully giving his attention to Evan.
Evan shook his head, sighing. “Rose? That’s new,” he commented, moving around to prepare a drink. A latte? Maybe. Barty watched him closely. The way his fingers pressed the buttons. The way the sunlight streamed down on him just right, bathing him in it. His graceful movements as he skillfully drew a pattern on the latte. The way he quickly and smoothly put the cap on the latte, something Barty constantly struggled with. He picked up a marker, writing something in that elegant handwriting of his. Finally, he slid the drink across the top of the display, and it came to a perfect stop right before the edge.
Glancing down at the drink, Barty recognised it as the same latte Evan had made for him before. “Are you being nice? Who are you and what have you done with Evan?” Barty teased, breaking into a smile.
“Oh, um. An apology I suppose. For helping me. And for that day. I was still hungover and acted out I suppose. We sort of got off on the wrong foot, so…” Evan trailed off, sounding rather shy, his fingers drumming on the glass of the display. Barty gazed at him. He was so adorable, Barty just wanted to put him in his pocket.
Recovering quickly from the sudden cuteness attack, Barty simply shrugged. Shit. Why the hell did he do that? “No worries at all. It’s my duty as a gentleman after all,” Barty said, winking at him. Evan scoffed light-heartedly.
“You? A gentleman? That’s certainly controversial,” Evan joked back, turning to grab a cloth and beginning to wipe down the counter.
Barty once again found himself focusing on Evan and Evan only, tuning out everything else. He made something as simple as wiping a counter look so poise and elegant.
“È come un dio che cammina tra gli umani (He’s like a god walking among humans),” Barty mumbled, quite unable to look away from Evan.
Finishing, Evan walked back over to him. “I didn’t know you were Italian. Or well, I’m assuming you are,” Evan said.
“Oh yeah I am. Regulus though, that posh bitch can speak at least five languages fluently. Sometimes I wonder if he’s the Italian here,” Barty said. It drew a laugh out of Evan, and oh, Barty wished he had recorded it. It was lovely, like music itself. He could listen to Evan’s laugh on repeat and never tire of it.
He recovered quickly, glancing down. Something seemed to catch his eye then. “What’s that?” He asked, gesturing to a streak of orange on Barty’s arm.
“Oh. I didn’t see that. It’s paint. I paint,” Barty replied, rubbing at it. Interest sparked in Evan’s eyes, and he nodded in reply.
What was quickly turning into an amazing noon was interrupted by the piercing ringing of Barty’s phone. He took it out, glancing at the caller ID. “Fanculo (Fuck),” Barty blurted out. It was Mary. Even coffee might not appease the witch now. He considered ignoring it, but he couldn’t. With a sigh, he answered it.
“Barty Crouch Junior! Where the flying fuck is my coffee? What the fuck is taking you so-” Barty winced, holding the phone further away from his ear as Mary’s shouting grew even louder.
“Yes, I know. I’m uh, walking back now,” Barty said, putting the phone to his ear again when Mary finally stopped yelling. There was silence on the other end.
“I’m giving you fifteen minutes to stop talking to Rosier and get your fucking ass back here before I delete your game progress,” Mary threatened. Barty rolled his eyes, quickly hanging up on her.
“So, who was that?” Evan asked. “Fuck, wait, you don’t have to tell me,” he added quickly.
“It’s just Mary. She wants her coffee, so I’ll be going now,” Barty sighed, rather unwilling to leave. “Tell Reg and Cas yeah?” Evan nodded in reply. It took a moment for Barty to realise he was just searching for a reason to stay. Hastily, he picked up the bag of coffees and a muffin and turned around, leaving quickly, the bell on the door chiming cheerfully once again.
By the time he made it to his apartment where Mary was, fourteen minutes had passed. Barty entered, coming to a halt as he stared at her, who had his game pulled up and the selection box hovering on delete progress.
“Oh good, you came back with a minute to spare,” Mary sighed, grabbing her coffee and the muffin for herself, holding up a hand when Barty started to protest. “You took an hour to go get it, so I get the muffin.”
Barty rolled his eyes, but decided not to say anything. Taking his own latte, he turned the cup around till he found the writing.
Te rencontrer, c'était comme écouter une chanson et savoir que ce serait ma préférée - Rose