Cardigan-Barty
Barty is sitting in his living room, on the sofa in front of the television and holding a mug of coffee, wrapped in woolen clothes with a fire crackling in front of him. It should feel comforting, but instead, he feels the lingering sickness of old memories long passed.
He recalled a different winter, decades back, when his trust was yet to be broken and he had the best group of friends he could ask for. He felt like he belonged. That had been an odd feeling, life at home was very different so being wanted was a lot to take on. Of course, it had all been too good to last. Everything went downhill so fast and suddenly, the two people he trusted more than anyone else were no longer in his life. There had been no more drunken nights rubbing and singing together, no more late night chats, no more morning cuddling before they had to go to class. Nothing. It was all over in the blink of an eye.
He hasn’t seen James at all since they fought at the party all those years ago. They haven't messaged each other about the situation. The kiss by the lamppost had been their last and Barty is okay with that. He tells himself that every time James comes to mind. It’s fine and it was for the best. He doesn’t need James anymore, he hasn’t thought about him for ages. The thought of him barely even crosses his mind anymore. He moved on, lived more, gained new experiences and dealt with different pain.
It was only in moments like this when Barty remembered him. When it was cold and lonely and he felt a pull of nostalgia dragging him back into the past.
The memories of it never really leave. A first love never does. It doesn’t matter how terribly it ended or how long ago it was, every so often you would always get that longing for it, that desperation to have it back, even if you knew it was bad for you.
He thought he knew James. No, he did know James. Then he had changed. Maybe he had changed again since. Barty had no way of knowing. Part of him hoped he hadn’t. Hoped he had stayed the same. He didn’t like the idea of a James he didn’t recognise walking around with the same memories Barty had. It felt wrong. He felt a bit angry about it but he didn’t know why he still felt so strongly about somebody he had not seen since he was 17. He wondered if James felt the same way. If he sometimes wondered how Barty was doing. If he ever considered how differently things could have gone if he had done something differently. If he had not had an affair with Regulus, if Dorcas hadn’t told Barty what she heard, if he had apologised differently, if Barty hadn’t pulled away from their kiss. When he thought about James, he properly thought of him, like he had just remembered his existence and needed to confirm everything he knew about him in order to remember him properly.
It hurt, sometimes, forgetting about James in favour of other issues, like things with work and his other friends. It felt disrespectful to the memory of him. To the memories that helped to shape him as a person.
He promised himself that James would always have a place in his memory, whether he deserved it or not. Because despite the pain he had caused him, James was one of the best things that had ever happened to him. People always said that your first love is the worst love because you will take anything you can get without thinking about how bad it truly is but Barty did always like to prove people wrong. His first love was the purest he had ever felt before it went wrong; maybe that was the reason why it had hurt so much. He had loved James with more of his soul than he should have allowed and had never loved anybody the same way since. Again, he wondered if James felt the same.
Or maybe he didn’t, James was usually the type to make big shows if his feeling and as of yet, he had done nothing of the sort for Barty in the past 20 years, maybe he had a husband and children. Maybe he had married Regulus and forgotten about Barty all together. The thought made him feel ill.
Eventually, he decided that he didn’t care. Whoever had James now had the new James, the James who cheated on his boyfriend and then begged for forgiveness.They had the new James, the mean James. They didn’t have the old James. The James that had disappeared one July. They didn’t have giggly, egotistical, dramatic James who wrote poems for Barty and recited them in front of the entire school. They didn’t have the same James who panicked on picnic dates over leaving the figs behind or used smiley emojis after every text unless he was mad. They didn’t have his James. That James was kept safe and sound in Barty’s memory. They may know him now, but Barty knew him first and he would never forget that. The real James lives on, but the frozen moment from so long ago was just as alive. Just as real. And he belonged to Barty and Barty alone.
They may know you know, but I knew you first. I always have.
He smiles to himself as he takes a swig of his drink and pulls the cardigan over him tighter, so it felt like a warm hug. Barty smiles as he repeats the phrase over and over in his mind.
They may know you know, but I knew you first.
They may know you know, but I knew you first.
They may know you know, but I knew you first.
.I knew you