Ruin us
Barty was pissing Evan off.
This wasn’t unusual for him; it was in his nature to be a fucking idiot. But the problem was, he was being a hurtful fucking idiot and Evan had had enough.
Ever since the party, things had changed. Their friendship had changed, if you could even call it that. The bond between them had always been messy, all tangled wires and heated glances, the sort of touch that leaves your skin buzzing and your heart thumping, wondering what the hell you are.
Evan had known Barty his whole life, their families interlocked by various buisiness deals and Tuesday dinners. They had a shared love of hockey but trained on separate teams. Where Evan had risen because of his status and money, his skill perfected by years of expensive training and calculated late nights, Barty had raw power and a type of pure talent that you were born with. He had a reputation because he wanted one and forced everyone around him to accept it.
It was something Evan admired.
Despite their opposite teams, they had trained together and remained friends. Evan didn’t know much about Barty’s situation until their last year in middle school, just before they graduated and went into summer holidays. It had been bad, even thinking about it made him feel sick.
Barty and Evan were known as a duo, even in school, but Barty had these sort of episodes. He would stop turning up to class, ghost Evan for days on end, get angry at everything, and then he would isolate himself completely.
Sometimes though, he was manic. In Evan’s opinion, the manic episodes were worse. Barty would smoke weed, drink until he threw up and passed out, and not go home for days. Evan would find him in a heap in some abandoned parking lot or alleyway.
Barty never really wanted to be home, though. He avoided it at all costs, staying at Evan’s house most days and going who knows where on the others. Evan didn’t really understand why, not until one random Thursday evening.
It was dark outside, pouring with rain and hail, thunder growling in the sky ominously. Evan was wide awake, the light from his phone illuminating the room in an eerie white light. He hadn’t seen Barty in two and a half weeks. It had been the longest Barty had disappeared for, but this time he hadn’t seen the episode coming. He had just disappeared and Evan’s texts had stopped sending.
Evan sent one last message, the hundredth one that day, pleading Barty for any sign of contact. He was so concerned; he hadn’t slept a wink since he’d gone missing. He had dark bags under his eyes and his cheekbones looked sharper with the lack of appetite. Evan sighed, rolling over onto his back to reach for his charger.
His parents often went on buisiness trips, leaving him alone in the huge house. He did have a sister, but she ran away a long time ago. It was strange, her very presence felt like a fever dream. Whenever he brought her up, everyone acted like they didn’t know who he was talking about, or just changed the subject.
Even his parents refused to speak of her, and when he pushed it had only resulted in a few bruises and shattered champagne glasses on the dining room floor. He didn’t dare try to bring it up again.
He was so busy thinking about everything, staring up at the ceiling with thoughts swarming around him noisily, he barely even noticed the small ping. The ringtone he had set for Barty.
It took him a moment to register the sound, but then he was sitting up lightning fast and rubbing his eyes. Evan reached blindly to get his phone, heart beating faster and faster as he saw Barty’s name flash up on his screen. He had read all the texts, and at the bottom was a single reply.
BARTY:
are you home?
{23:46pm}
The blonde blinked at his phone, tired brain trying to piece together the text and its meaning.
EV:
Yeah, why? Are you ok
{Read: 23:47}
No response.
EV:
Barty?
{Read: 23:50}
No response.
Evan sighed, staring down at his phone screen for a bit. Then he was chucking his duvet off and walking down bare foot to the kitchen to get a glass of water, eyes snapping to his phone every few seconds. He was shaking, his heart beating erratically in his chest as he sipped at his water. But then-
BARTY:
i’m outside
{23:57}
help
{23:58}
Evan stared down at the text for a second, his brain barely catching up with his body before he was hurling it into action. He could feel his bare feet burn against the cold wooden floorboards as he came to a halt at the front door, breathing heavily as he wrenched it open to a familiar figure.
Evan could only barely recognise Barty, despite the many years he had known him.
The boy had blood covering nearly every inch of him, and he was all doubled over with pain and cold. Evan couldn’t even see his face, but he could see the dark splashes dripping from it. He was drenched with rain and blood, fingers trembling and the few bits of bare skin he could see was bruised so dark he could see it in the gloomy light the streetlamps shone.
“Barty.” Evan choked out,
Barty raised his head at his name and Evan’s heart dropped. He brought a shaking hand up to his mouth.
“I’m sorry.” Barty croaked, tears glistening in his eyes. “I'm so sorry- I couldn’t do it anymore. Please help. I don’t know what to do.”
“Fuck.” Evan hissed, staring at Barty’s crumpled face. He fumbled to put the latch on, stepping out onto the shining street and helping his best friend inside hurriedly, shutting and locking the door behind him.
Barty groaned in pain as Evan laid him down on the sofa, ordering him to stay still as he grabbed the first aid kit and kneeled down beside the couch at his head. Barty’s eyes were glassy, fluttering shut every so often and his breathing was shallow.
“I need you to stay awake, Barty. Tell me where you’re hurt.” Evan demanded, voice taught with the strain of holding back tears as he opened the first aid kit and scrambled for the bandages. “What the fuck happened?” His voice broke, fingers trembling violently as he fiddled to unravel it. He was purposely not looking up at him to hide the few tears that were stinging his eyes.
“I don’t know. I’m so fucking tired.” Barty mumbled, wincing.
“That’ll be those fucking head wounds, idiot. Why didn’t you come sooner?” Evan snapped back. “Fucking shit !” He finally yelled out in frustration as his hands failed him yet again, throwing the bandages back into the box and running his hands through his hair.
Evan cursed, slamming his fist down on the box.
“Evan.” Barty coughed wetly, blood bubbling at his lips. He forced his face into a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, hand reaching out to Evan. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not! What about this is okay?” He said, gripping Barty’s crimson stained hand in his.
“Well, I'm with you. That’s more than okay.” He grinned.
“God, you’re an idiot. Take your shirt off.”
“Trying to undress me already Rosie?” He raised an eyebrow, letting out a chuckle which morphed into a small groan of pain.
Evan shook his head in dismay. Looking down at his hands, though, he saw they’d stopped shaking. Barty was a fucking smart idiot. A contradiction, yes, but then Barty was a contradiction himself so it made even more sense.
“C’mon, I’ll help you sit up. I need to see the damage.”
Barty hesitated. He was stock still, looking at him with a strange expression.
“What? What’s wrong?” Evan frowned. Barty never hesitated.
“Nothing. Ev- what you’re gonna see it’s-“ Barty shuffled, grimacing. “It’s fucked up. I just don’t want things to change. I don’t want you to see me any differently.” He avoided the other boy’s gaze which softened considerably.
“Barty, nothing I could see could change how I see you. I just want you not to be dying on my couch, please.” Evan smiled. Barty managed to smile back, heaving a deep breath.
“Yeah. Okay, then. Let’s get this over with.”
It took a while to be able to sit Barty up, shrug his hoodie onto the arm rest and actually coax his t-shirt off. It was so ripped and sodden with blood, they had to peel most of it off in pieces. When it was all revealed, Evan paused and stared. He was speechless. Barty leaned back against the armrest, eyes shut tight.
“Shit…” Evan mumbled.
“Yeah.” Barty said, voice coming out as more of a sob. He rubbed his face with one hand, an excuse to cover his tearful face.
The bruises that patterned his torso, and presumably the rest of him too, were concerning shades of purple, black and blue. He had several cuts up his arms and small gashes and wounds all over his chest. It was a painful sight.
“Can I touch?” The blonde asked tentatively.
Barty let out a small whimper (OF PAIN) but nodded, his eyes still covered with the back of his hand.
Evan traced his fingers lightly over the skin, pressing lightly to a few of his ribs to check they weren’t broken. He was making his way over to the bottom left rib bone, where he could see the biggest bruise blooming. Holding his breath, he pushed lightly down on the rib bone, and as expected Barty’s eyes flew open, suddenly crying in pain.
“Shit! What the fucking fuck?” He spluttered bewilderedly, eyes wide and neck craning to look at where Evan’s fingers were. Evan was watching him calculatedly with his bright green eyes, continuing to prod and feel gently around the bone as Barty grimaced and grit his teeth in pain. “Fucking hurts man.” He grumbled, letting his head fall back onto the arm rest.
“When or how does it hurt? Be more specific.”
Barty rolled his eyes, waving his hand. “I don’t know, when I breathe. And when you’re fucking pressing down on it!”
Evan sighed.
“Listen, I’m no doctor, but you’ve definitely got a cracked rib. The rest of the bruises should heal up, but we need to keep the cuts clean or they’ll get infected.” His fingers trailed across the injuries as he spoke, looking up to meet Barty’s burning gaze with sad eyes.
“Okay.” Barty whispered, suddenly withdrawn again.
“How are your legs? The same condition?”
Barty nodded in response, eyes going a little emptier. Evan’s chest still prickled with anxiety.
“Let’s get you into a bath, then I can treat everything, and you can sleep. Sound good?”
“Yeah.” Barty responded weakly, dragging his eyes over to Evan’s face.
Evan gently guided his best friend upstairs and into the bathroom. He stripped him, washed him, wrapped his arms and head in bandages and then dressed him again in spare pyjamas, giving him an ice pack and a few painkillers.
Barty held the shirt up to his nose, a small smile tugging at his lips.
“What?” Evan chuckled. “Why are you smelling it like that?”
Barty shrugged.
“Smells like you.”
Evan’s stomach twisted. He shook it off and turned off the bathroom light, following Barty into his bedroom. When Barty climbed into Evan’s bed later that night, they laid on their backs on the mattress.
“Evan?”
“Yeah?”
“Did I tell you what happened?”
“No.”
“Oh.” He paused. “I can’t remember any of the last two hours. I can barely remember the last couple weeks, up until I came to yours. Is that bad?”
Evan shook his head even though Barty couldn’t see it.
“I don’t think so. Do you want to tell me what happened?”
“Yeah. I need to tell someone, y’know?”
“Sure. Tell me, I'm listening.”
And so, Barty told him.
He told him right from the beginning.
How his mother committed suicide when he was only 9, how his dad had turned into nothing but anger. He told Evan about the bruises, showed him his scars and tried to laugh off the tears he was holding.
“But then that old bastard decided to ignore me, instead. We went three years barely talking, up until my first episode. Then it all went to shit. I just wanted him to look at me. Like, really look at me. I saw him two times a week at most. That shit’s depressing as fuck. But when he did notice me, it was worse. He was just…angry. Nothing else.”
It had gone on like that for the rest of Barty’s life, the cycle of wanting more and then getting what he wanted in some twisted way. At least his dad looked then, though. Sometimes he would piss his dad off just to feel something. Just for an excuse to hurt.
When someone else wasn’t hurting him, he was hurting himself.
Kind of pathetic.
“I didn’t feel this one coming, either. The episode thingy.” Barty croaked. His breath was shaking as he paused. “It was so stupid. I was just numb- I wanted to feel y’know? I just stole a shit ton of alcohol from my dad and drank it all. Then I came back absolutely pissed with all the bottles, just to rub it in his face.” He sniffed, his chest rising and falling rapidly.
“He knew what I wanted. So, he- he gave it to me. Right in the palm of his hand.” A sob racked his body, stopping the story in its tracks.
Evan searched for Barty’s hand in the darkness, feeling a pain so physical that it burnt his chest. He squeezed it encouragingly. Barty let out a long, quivering exhale to calm himself.
“It hurt. He hurt me. The worst he’s ever done, really. I don’t know how long it lasted, how long I was there for, just lying in a pool of my own fucking blood. I don’t remember. I think the episode started at some point after, though. Maybe it like, triggered it? Is that possible?”
Evan shrugged, enough so Barty could feel it.
“It’s possible.”
“Yeah well…the next thing I know is that I'm covered in blood and he’s fucking chasing me down the road. He dragged me back to that house every time I tried to leave. I don’t even remember doing these.”
Barty brushed a hand up the bandages on his arm.
“I was probably trying like, snap me out of it or something. But- shit. It’s just been a repeat. It’s like something snapped inside him- and I was hiding- but every time he saw me, he hurt me. He was so angry. And the most fucked up thing is that I can’t stop thinking that I just- I don’t know what I did wrong. Not even after everything he’s done.”
§………§
Barty hiccupped, turning his face away so Evan couldn’t see the tears streaming down his face. But he knew that even if Evan couldn’t see him, he could feel his sobs since they were practically pressed shoulder to shoulder.
Evan sat up, switching on the bedside lamp. He clutched Barty’s hand tightly as he glared down fiercely at the boy, who had looked up in surprise.
“Barty, trust me. You have to know- everything that fucking dick did to you was in no way your fault. He was a sad old man who took out his pathetic little feelings on an innocent child, and I will fucking tell you this until it gets into your thick skull, okay? You didn’t deserve any of it, and there is no way you’re taking a step back inside that house again.”
Barty’s eyes were wide with something close to fear and Evan felt guilt flash through him. He forced himself to relax, loosen his grip a little and soften his gaze. He smiled gently, slowly raising a hand to smooth out the crinkles in Barty’s shirt and brush the tears from his cheeks.
“You’re safe now, yeah?”
“Yeah.” The dark-haired boy whispered, lips tilting up into a smile even as his eyes watered.
“Sorry about the speech I just got…” Evan let out a short huff of air to fill the gap.
“Defensive?” Barty filled in, a spark returning to his eyes slightly.
“Sure.” Evan agreed, shaking his head slightly as he flicked the lamp back off and slumped down onto the mattress again. He shuffled closer to the boy next to him, relishing in the feeling of his flesh under his fingers, the realness of it all, sucking in his warmth and his presence.
“Ev, you don’t have to worry about me going back or some shit. He kicked me out anyway, said he was done with my bullshit.” Barty mumbled, forcing a breathy laugh.
“Hmph, what a dickhead.” He grumbled back; voice low with sudden tiredness. “You weren’t even there most of the time. Now you’ll be here all the time, it’s not that much difference.”
“I’ll be here all the time?” Barty asked quietly.
“Yeah.” Evan agreed, realising he hadn’t shared this particular fact with Barty in all the chaos.
“And…You’re okay with that?” His voice was unsteady.
“Of course. You’re my best mate.” Evan responded, squeezing his hand a little where he was still holding it. Barty sighed.
“Thanks. Just- thanks, Ev. I dunno where I’d be without you.”
“Probably in a ditch bleeding out somewhere.” Evan laughed, even though it wasn’t funny. It was too true to be funny.
Barty stayed with Evan until the end of graduation and well into the Summer Holidays.
After that, well, they had gotten into Hogwarts. Evan announced that he’d quit his hockey team before Barty, but he followed quickly in his footsteps.
From there, Barty got the train to London and booked a hotel for a few weeks where Evan joined him shortly. He’d had to come up later because of his family, but he was more than ready to leave.
He had been done, done with the team they wanted him to play in, done with their money and briberies and absences, done with the mystery, done with the lies and done with being fucking hurt by people who didn’t even love him.
There was not much left for him there, and Barty had become his whole world. Evan had come to a realisation at some point that night, or maybe that week. He had felt it consuming him until he acknowledged it, turned around to face it.
In the end, it just crashed over him like a wave. How he remembered it, the moment had been when he opened the door to his best friend, practically dying by the light of the streetlamps and covered in blood.
He had barely recognised him, and yet that was the moment that Evan had realised he was in love with Barty.
He thought that was it for him, truly. But life always finds a way to go on, Evan’s found. Life doesn’t fucking care. It doesn’t matter if you’ve just realised that you’re completely in love with your best friend, who would never fucking reciprocate those shitty feelings.
And even if he did, he could never give Barty what he needed. Barty craved physical affection, he needed that intimacy. He practically shagged everything he saw.
Evan was just- different. He didn’t talk about it a lot, he’d never really met someone who understood it. That sort of emptiness, the lack of feelings. It wasn’t like he’d never thought about sex, or it grossed him out, but it just never seemed that important to him.
He couldn’t help who he was, he couldn’t change it. He knew that. But it didn’t change the fact that who he was just wasn’t enough. It didn’t make it stop hurting.
So yes, the world is shit, but Evan’s decided there’s better things to do than dwell on how much he hates it.
Still, it brings him back to the point of the party where his whole perspective had changed once again. It wasn’t fair.
It wasn’t fair that Barty kissed him, it wasn’t fair that Barty was ignoring him, it wasn’t fair that love had gotten in the way of everything again. Even hockey had changed, and that was his breaking point. Hockey was more than just a sport to him, but he was left useless, distracted, and furious.
The kiss had happened so quickly, but he remembered it so vividly.
Evan had felt his jealousy tightening like a corset as the night went on. Barty had always loved parties, loved hooking up with people, dancing, getting drunk. And it was fun. Until it wasn’t, until all those moments built up. Those tiny bits chipping away at Evan’s heart.
Barty’s attention was like a spotlight, and Evan was drunk under it. Not to mention he was already drunk enough. It was kind of late into the evening, and his heart had felt so cracked and broken in his chest, he’d wanted to curl up and cradle it until it mended and fused back together.
He didn’t know where Regulus had gone. He had disappeared somewhere, mumbling something about fresh air.
His gaze longed to search for Barty again, but he knew it would only cause him more pain.
He needed a break.
Stumbling up the steps, he tried each door until he found an unlocked one. A bathroom. He let out a long breath. Evan had staggered over to the corner and leant against the wall, eyes unfocused as he tried not to think about the image of his best friend who he was very much in love with kissing yet another girl.
As if being summoned by Evan’s not-thinking-thinking about him, Barty had come looking for him. He peered his head through the door, a grin splitting his face as he came swaggering over. He had evidently just come from his latest dance-slash-make out with some random girl on the dancefloor- red lipstick marks were littering his skin and his hair looked all mussed up, those girls’ hands having run through it at least a million times tonight.
“What’s up? You just disappeared mate.” Barty blinked, cocking his head to the side in the way that Evan adored more than he probably should.
“Nothing’s up, and don’t call me mate.” Evan snapped. He hadn’t really meant to, but at this point he had somehow lost control of his tongue. Barty stared at him in surprise.
“Why…why not?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Okay. Why are you up here though?”
“It doesn’t matter. God, I need to leave.”
“Why? What’s wrong?” Evan just shook his head, trying to walk to the door. “Did I do something?” Barty frowned, moving to block the exit.
“I don’t know, what do you think?” Evan had snapped, shoving his shoulder with a glare.
“I don’t know, that’s why I fucking asked you, prat!” Barty retorted, pushing him back. Evan was considerably more drunk than him for once, though, having downed every drink he could get his hands on to block out the sound of his heart breaking. He fumbled back a bit, hands gripping the sink as his eyes narrowed in fury.
“Why are you here anyway? Why don’t you go check on that stupid girl you were dry humping on the dancefloor instead? Looks like you were having enough fun eating each other’s faces back there.”
“What’s your problem with Kat? She has nothing to do with this!”
“I don’t have a fucking problem with fucking Kat!”
“Well you evidently do, or you wouldn’t be running away and slagging her off!” Barty threw his hands up in emphasis.
“I don’t have a problem with her, I have a problem with you Barty.” The blonde bit out.
Barty flinched, eyes widening with hurt then darkening with anger.
“So, I did do something? You make no fucking sense! What did I do?”
“You fucking kissed her!”
“What?” Barty’s eyebrows shot up. He paused. “Evan are you…are you jealous?”
Evan swallowed, lip trembling slightly as he stared like a deer caught in headlights.
“Evan if you liked her you should’ve said something.” Barty sighed softly, smiling. “I didn’t even know you knew her. You can have her if you want.”
“Bloody hell Barty, you are so stupid.” Evan groaned, dragging his hands over his face. “I don’t fucking want Kat. I’m not jealous of you, I'm jealous of her.”
“Wait, what?” Barty shook his head in confusion. “Why?”
“Because, I fucking love you!”
The music below was loud, but the silence was too. It felt like forever where they just stood there looking at each other, both in equal amounts of shock until Evan shook himself and began to stride past Barty, hurriedly making his way to the door.
“Wait! Evan, stop!” Barty caught his wrist, trying his hardest to pull him back. “Evan please, just pause for a fucking second-”
Evan did not pause. Barty was blabbering.
“-obviously I love you too, but I'm a little confused here. You can’t just leave after that!”
Barty begged, eyes stinging with hurt.
He forced Evan to a halt, gripping onto his arm so tight it might’ve left a bruise.
The fluorescent lights of the bathroom lit up Evan’s eyes as he stared. He was already crying, it felt like his heart had been weeping for years now. Barty had that effect on him.
“You don’t love me, Barty.” He whispered weakly, squeezing his eyes shut. “Not in the way I love you. You don’t want me.” His words were firm, but his hands shook.
Barty grabbed them to stop them from trembling, as he always did. But this time he had held them tightly as if he could convey his feelings through that simple act. But Evan couldn’t understand. He’d never understood Barty, he felt like it was a losing battle.
“Shut up, Rosie. Shut the fuck up. Don’t tell me what to feel, you fucker, because I do love you. More than anything, actually, so what’s this about?”
“Barty you don’t understand. That’s not the type of love I’m talking about. Just forget it.” Evan attempted to dismiss him, tugging away with the intention of leaving.
“What? What don’t I understand? You’re always saying I don’t understand, have you considered that maybe- maybe I do?”
“Barty, stop, you don’t-“
“No, you stop. You stop telling me that I don’t love you, when that’s all I’ve ever fucking done! I don’t care, Ev.”
“ If it’s getting hurt you’re scared of, then get it into your head that love hurts either way, because right now you’re hurting me!”
“Love isn’t that simple!” Evan abruptly stopped struggling, eyes narrowed as he rounded on him. “You’re completely watering it down, for what? If this is to get me to be some sort of onetime thing- I won’t do it. I don’t want a one-time-fuck then we never talk again, Barty. This is what I mean. It’ll ruin us. ”
“When have I ever said that I wanted to fuck you? All I’ve said is that I love you and you refuse to listen to even that!” Barty pulled him in.
“You’re the one not listening! This will ruinus!”
“I don’t care.” Barty spat. “I’ve been waiting too long to care, Ev.”
Taking Evan’s face in his hands, Barty had waited for him to pull away, eyes flitting down to his lips.
Evan hadn’t pulled away.
Instead, he’d teetered forward slightly, Barty’s lips suddenly the only thing he cared about in that moment.
Barty was the first to smash their lips together.
It felt like nothing he’d felt before, like no one he’d kissed before. But then, Evan had always been different.
Barty had always been determined not to hurt Evan, the reason why he’d brushed the crush off as some unimportant lingering tension between them. But he had been hurting him in just doing that.
It wasn’t like he wanted to; he just didn’t know how not to.
The kiss was warm and heated, alcohol lingering in each laboured breath. Barty sunk his hands into Evan’s hair, pulling him closer. It was a small sliver of peace, a bright warmth that pooled in Evan’s stomach. But just as quickly as the feeling had arrived, it left in a single heartbeat. Evan pulled away, his heart sinking as it rattled around in his chest like a bird trapped in a cage.
They were drunk.
Barty was drunk.
This couldn’t happen. No matter how much he wanted it to. No matter how much it hurt.
So, Evan left him there. He staggered downstairs, through the stream of people crowding around something in the middle of the room and out into the fresh air. He didn’t dare stop moving his legs until he was at least a few blocks away, tears streaming down his face and sweat in his eyes.
He could still feel the kiss.
The feeling of Barty crowded up against him, the warmth in his stomach, the buzz of his lips.
Evan took a cab back to the dorm, opening the door with shaking hands. He dragged himself through the tasks of getting ready for bed, his mind feeling numb and cold.
Before he got into his own bed, he paused. Looked at Barty’s empty one. Stared.
A strange feeling washed over him gently, but he didn’t have the energy to articulate it. Raising a hand to his lips, he could feel the memory of Barty’s lips against his. He pulled the covers over him and squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to sleep.
The tension in the dorms was thick the next few days, Evan had dark bags under his eyes, and he looked more dishevelled than he had in years. He knew it was bad, but he didn’t care. Barty and Evan hardly spoke, and even when they did, they argued. Regulus avoided being in the apartment anymore, the atmosphere was so thick. It broke soon enough, though. Evan couldn’t even remember what had even started the argument.
Barty and Evan argued a lot, sometimes more serious rows than others, but never as bad as this one. It had breached every rule, crossed every line and called out each insecurity they had buried underneath their skin. Every insult he could think of had been hurled into the air, ripped from his chest until they were both raw and vulnerable.
Barty was not a silent crier, but as the two panted and stared at each other in fury, a silent tear rolled down his cheek. Then another, and another until a flood of thick tears was streaming down his face. He was wiping them away, struggling to maintain eye contact as Evan moved closer.
It hurt to see Barty like this. But he hurt him too, and there was still that deliciously satisfying zing when his words scratched a little too deep. Just deep enough to scar. To bleed. The boy flinched when Evan placed a hand on his jaw, letting out a small sob himself. It was barely audible, but Barty’s eyes followed the sound to his lips. He took his time returning his gaze to Evan’s eyes, and when he did Evan was already leaning in to press their lips together gently.
The world was quiet, thrumming silently under each tick of the clock.
Then Barty pulled away, fresh tears glistening in his dark eyes.
“Fuck you, Evan.” He croaked, brows furrowing in hurt as he shoved him away. Then he was gone, out the door.
Moments later, of course, Evan rushed to pick up a spare pair of keys and his phone. He swung open the door, reeling back to see his hockey captain on the other side, fist raised evidently about to knock.
“Oh, hey James. Here for Reg?” He murmured, flashing a grin he knew was pathetic.
“Erm- yeah. Are you alright mate?”
Fuck, he must look like shit for James to comment on it.
“Yeah, fine. Have you seen Barty?”
He got what he needed from James and hurried down the steps, stopping to peer down below. He could see Barty’s figure walking down by the school, heading for the gates. Evan swore under his breath and picked up the speed, squinting around for Barty again. He barely managed to catch up, he was walking so fast. Evan could tell he was crying, even from here.
“Barty, wait! Stop, you fucker!”
His shoulders tensed and he seemed to begin walking even faster, slipping out the gates and down the street. Evan huffed indignantly at being ignored, frowning and using a burst of speed to catch his shoulder. Even as he did so, though, Barty threw him off violently, refusing to even turn around.
“Please, just talk to me!”
“Go home Evan.” Barty spat quietly, his back still turned.
“No! Not until we sort this out!”
“Sort what out?” He scoffed.
“Us!” Evan practically sobbed, stopping in his tracks. He was so tired. He wasn’t sure what he would do if he lost Barty. Probably fucking die or something. Barty finally turned around, eyes narrowed. A sliver of hope flickered in Evan’s chest, but it sizzled out almost as soon as it was made.
“There is no us, Rosier. I hate you. Get that into your fucking head and go home.” He sneered.
Evan flinched at the mention of his surname, but Barty didn’t have the mind to care at the moment. He turned sharply on his heel and stalked off, leaving Evan to pick up the bits of his heart that had shattered all over the cracked and dirty pavement.
Evan returned home. He didn’t know where Barty had even gone, he’d tried calling him but to no avail. Evan was awake but in bed and Regulus had silently retreated to his own with a small smile on his face. It was so obvious he and James were head over heels for each other, he wasn’t sure how the whole school didn’t know.
It wasn’t as if Evan was really in a place where he could talk about people’s love lives right now, though.
When Barty stumbled in at 3am that morning, Evan was still awake. He watched in the safety of the darkness as Barty tripped over himself trying to get ready for bed, eventually falling asleep with a bottle of vodka and his jeans only halfway off, shirtless. Evan got up, careful not to wake him as he slid the bottle from his grasp and tipped it down the sink, wrinkling his nose as he noticed the foul stench. Turns out there wasn’t just vodka in there.
Gross.
Throwing the now empty bottle in the trash, he returned to Barty’s bed. Even though he hated him right now, hated him for breaking him so easily, he was still his best friend. With soft hands, he carefully shimmied off his jeans, freezing when Barty stirred.
“Ev?” The boy croaked, eyelashes fluttering in an attempt to open them.
“Yeah, it’s me.” Evan replied in a hushed tone, throat tight. His fingers paused in their act of lifting Barty’s shirt.
Barty smiled sluggishly, letting his eyes fall closed with a hum. Evan let out the breath he was holding, instructing him to lift his arms up as Barty cleared his throat to carry on.
“I was hoping it was you. Not letting some stranger take my pants off.” Barty snorted. Evan sighed. At least he was complying, no matter how somewhat half-arsed.
“You’d rather someone you hate do it than a stranger.” Evan grumbled bitterly, mostly to himself. Barty heard though. He let out a groan, arm flailing about and a hand grabbing the front of his shirt.
“I don’t mean that shit, Ev. You should know by now, I can’t fucking hate you.” He grinned, but then his smile fell a bit as he added a soft, “Not even if I tried.”
Evan slowly pushed the hand away, pulling the shirt over his head.
It smelt bad. But a familiar bad. Like cigarette smoke and many different types of alcohol. Evan swallowed harshly, feeling his stomach sink slightly as his throat prickled. Chucking it in the wash pile with the jeans, he pushed Barty onto the bed properly, so he was lying on his side, and pulled the duvet over him. The blonde stared for a moment as he brushed the hair back and paused. He had already fallen back asleep.
Padding over to the kitchen, he shoved in Barty’s clothes along with a few of his own and busied himself with making his personal hangover remedy. Barty needed his strength for Saturday, he couldn’t have him feeling shit this close to the game. Even if it was only Thursday.
He left the glass and a few painkillers next to his bed and climbed back into bed, eyes finally falling shut with the relief of Barty being back.
They didn’t speak again until the game, and even then, not until halfway through when James had had to physically pull their heads out their arses. They were fucking it up for everyone, just because they couldn’t stick to the rule of ‘keeping it outside the game’. Even so, he was glad they did start talking.
“Are you feeling okay from Thursday? You came in pretty shit-faced.” Evan started, laughing awkwardly in an attempt to cover up the guilt on his face. Barty’s eyes flitted up from his face from where he was staring at his skates, eyes softening slightly.
“Yeah. I’m doing alright, thanks to you. I’ve had your hangover remedy enough times to know it when I taste it.” The dark-haired boy’s face split into a small grin. Evan smiled back as best he could, almost weak from relief.
“I’m sorry for everything. We can just go back to how we were, yeah?” He got out, eyes boring into Barty as his face flickered through emotion, opening his mouth to say something but being cut off by the sudden shriek of the whistle. Their break was over.
“Yeah, sure, whatever you want.” Barty muttered into the tense silence, his shoulders slumping slightly in defeat. Evan didn’t have time to ask what the hell that meant.
In the end, the game was won, and they were fine. But that didn’t stop the nagging feeling Evan felt whenever he looked at his friend. Once everyone had cleared from the lockers, he hung back with Barty.
“Hey, um, can we talk?” He asked, wincing at how bloody nervous he sounded.
“Sure.” Barty set down his bag, sitting down. “I was gonna ask you the same thing.”
Evan raised an eyebrow in surprise, leaning back against the lockers. “You wanna go, or should I?”
“I just wanna get it over with. I don’t think I’ll be able to get the courage to do it if I don’t do it right now. I’ll overthink it.” Barty laughed softly, trailing off as he bit his lip, leaning back against the lockers too as he stared at Evan. He didn’t know where to even start, he obviously didn’t have a plan beyond this.
Evan smiled weakly, laughing as he ran a hand through his hair.
“God, we’re awful at this.”
Barty tried to laugh, but it died down quickly in his throat. He swallowed anxiously, fiddling with his fingers as he visibly tried to conjure up the courage to say what he needed to.
“Evan, I know I’ve been hurting you. Even at the party- I knew about your feelings, but I brushed them off because I didn’t want to deal with my own. Do you understand? It wasn’t to do with you. In fact, I thought I was protecting you.” He started, hands shaking.
“Protecting me from what?” Evan’s voice was harsh against Barty’s ears and he almost flinched. He paused, mind reeling and heart stinging.
“Protect you from myself.” Barty whispered eventually, voice cracking. He took a deep breath, getting ready to speak again and trying his hardest not to look at Evan.
“Look, I don’t want to hurt you anymore. I’m a fucking idiot for not seeing what was in front of me. But fuck, Evan. Now that I do see, I can’t walk away. I can’t go back to nothing, yeah? But if you want to do that, then I will. Because I love you Evan, and I’m not going to lie I don’t think I’ve ever loved anyone like this. Merlin, I think I’ve said those three words to you more than I have to anyone my entire life.” Barty forced out a choked laugh, but it sounded more like a sob as he covered his face.
A tear trailed down his cheek which he wiped away, clenching his fists. Barty hated crying. He always had. He couldn’t bare to bring himself to even look in Evan’s direction.
“Look at me, Barty.” Came Evan’s voice, and Barty cursed love. He cursed how it made him do dumb things. Barty reluctantly raised his head to look at him.
He looked weak. Evan’s heart hurt and as he looked at him, he knew he would give in. He knew he would forgive him, because Evan always did, no matter what he tried. And he knew they would work, simply because they had to. It wouldn’t ruin them. Not now.
Evan reached out and Barty pulled him in, sighing as he guided the boy in between his legs. He gazed up at him, smiling with the love he’d hidden for years practically pouring out of him.
“I love you, idiot. I’m tired of fighting us, it hurts more to resist it than let it happen. Maybe we’ll hurt either way, as you said. So why not be happy for a bit? If it ruins us, at least we’ll be ruined together.” Evan said in a low voice, just loud enough for Barty for hear. Just for his ears.
Barty’s face broke into a genuine grin as he placed his hands either side of Evan’s face. Evan leaned down and Barty gently captured the blonde’s lips in his own. It wasn’t like the other times. It felt like nothing he’d felt before, like no one he’d kissed before. But then, Evan had always been different.
It was probably because he loved him.
Fuck, Barty loved him. That shit was scary.
A few months ago, Barty would’ve scoffed and told someone to piss off if they told him what had happened today, but here he was. Here he was, sprinting back to the dorm and checking that Regulus wasn’t there, pushing Evan down onto the bed and pressing hasty kisses to whatever skin he could reach, sharing soft giddy giggles and secret smiles in the spell of the night blinking in through the window as it had suddenly grown dark.
It was nothing heated, Evan had told Barty that he wasn’t into that. Barty had only laughed and told him he didn’t care. So, they went on, just basking in the purity of each other’s love that they’d kept tucked away for years, letting it soak into their skin, feeling it buzz delightfully. It was just breathy moans and sweet nothings, slow kisses and fingertips brushing in the dark. The motive seemed just to be trying to get as close as possible to each other, stripping off shirts and jumpers, tracing shapes and stars into each other’s skin.
It left a warm glow that neither had ever felt before practically oozing from their hearts, dripping from their words like honey as they slowly drifted off to a slumber in one another’s arms. It may not last forever, it may hurt them more in the end, but at least they were happy now.
That’s all that mattered, in the end.