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“How’s your brother?”
The question is too casual for them, Barty knows that. He also knows he’s meant to be clocking in for his shift at the off-licence but fuck what he knows, his brain’s going into haywire and he’s pretty sure he’s going to puke his guts out any time soon. Regulus Black does that to you; he looks at you in a certain way that churns up all your insides and makes you feel like the whole world’s gone to shit. He makes you feel like you’re meant to be something, but God forbid his.
It’s cold in the living room, and Regulus probably feels it too with his subtle shivers and the way he’s pulled his sleeves down to his fingers. Barty should probably offer a cup of tea but he hasn’t done the shopping in a while, and there’s no way he’s turning the radiator on ‘cause gas prices are fucking ridiculous.
It’s a little crazy to him how only the night before he was high out of his mind on his kitchen floor with zero calls or messages on his phone for the last four years, and now, Regulus Black sits in his seat in his run down apartment. It’s not like there was any warning either; it was two in the afternoon when he’d been woken up to banging on his door and a slice of cheese on his arm. He shouldn’t be here. They shouldn’t be talking, and he shouldn’t know that Barty stayed in a place like this.
Regulus keeps his godforsaken eyes on Barty, never leaving him to look at the state of the wallpaper peeling back or the stain on the carpet that just won’t come out. “He’s okay, yeah. Great, actually.” When he speaks, Barty can feel his voice reaching into him to wrap around his heart and squeeze the ever life out of it. “He says hi, by the way.” Barty can’t fucking breathe.
He stands up abruptly, his back towards Regulus as he heads into the kitchen. With everything out of sight and his head in an empty fridge, he calls out, “You want a drink?” He doesn’t have any drinks.
“Just a water would be nice, thanks.”
He’s pretty sure he’s hyperventilating, certain that he’s going to drop the glass from his hands and it’s going to smash into a million pieces. He’s bled too much from his hands for Regulus. Maybe he would again. Maybe his brain’s still haywire.
Barty carries out the water to Regulus, looking away when he takes a gulp. They sit opposite each other, Barty’s leg bouncing the whole time and his fingernails between his teeth. It’s a dirty habit, but dirty habits are all he’s ever known.
Regulus looks up at him through his eyelashes, “Don’t be nervous, Barty. You used to come over to mine all the time, now I’m at yours.”
Pale skin turned red, God, don’t you look so pretty? They sit under fluorescent lights, listening to the static of the CD player, but Barty’s only really paying attention to the rhythm of giggles and whispers while they lay upside down on the beat up sofa. Regulus hardly ever drinks but when he does, it’s a beauty to witness. His cheeks are all flushed and he can’t keep his hands to himself. His fingers poking, touching, holding. His holy fingers.
“What was that movie about anyway?” Barty whispers and Regulus is thrown into another fit of laughter. Barty wants to keep this moment. Hold it close to his heart forever. Somewhere in the haze, between glossy eyes and pretty smiles, Regulus touches him again. His holy fingers running over his hair before they’re pressing into his sides. Barty fidgets away, his own laughter escaping him.
Regulus gasps, “Mr, Crouch, are you ticklish?” He says with a grin and mischief in his eyes. He’s not actually ticklish, he’s just fifteen and maybe all this is too much for him right now. He doesn’t know what any of it means. He’s just a boy.
Barty shakes his head, looking at the clock and back at Regulus. “It’s getting late. Your parents will be home soon, and your mum doesn’t like me very much.”
“She doesn’t like anyone. But you’re right.” Regulus says, and although Barty first made the suggestion to leave, he doesn’t want to be right. He wants to stay here. “Let’s go for a walk at least?”
And who is Barty to say no to Regulus?
It’s something surreal and Barty thinks maybe he’s still hallucinating from his packet last night when Regulus fucking smiles at him. Teeth all white and pearly, too good for him. Barty keeps his head down, itching at his throat and staring at his beat-up converses.
Barty gulps. “So where are you now then?” He asks. He doesn’t care, not in the slightest. But the silence is somewhat unbearable and so what if Barty doesn’t like talking? He’s not about to sit with Regulus Black staring at him in silence.
“London. Central actually. You’d love it, it’s so you.”
He doesn’t know what that means. He’s never known what anything Regulus says means. He’s always had a funny way of talking, like he doesn’t belong in real life and real moments. He talks in a way that takes you someplace else.
“You didn’t move.” Regulus speaks again but it’s much firmer now, almost like an accusation. Barty looks up and Regulus’ head is turning around the room, judging. “It looks the exact same. Even the wallpaper.”
Barty’s eyes drag in the same direction as Regulus’, to a corner of the wall where the off-white paper has started peeling off the walls and a cobweb is weaved. It’s embarrassing. Pathetic, really.
Barty shrugs, then looks at the jug of water on the table and reaches for it. His hands are shaking and when everything slips out of his hands and falls, Barty’s throat itches a little more. He’s counting to ten in his head, remembering where he is and who he is. He’s way in over his head, he can’t even hear Regulus asking if he’s okay but then he feels hands on his shoulder, on his face, and suddenly he’s fifteen again.
Holy hands shake him out of his daydream and he gives a lazy smile. “Always been clumsy, right?”
Regulus tilts his head when he looks at him and Barty hates it. He hates being looked at like this, like there’s something wrong with him.
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
Hand in hand, running, giggling, in dark alleyways. Their whispers float between the trees and reach the stars. Tonight, they’re boys of the night and they’re so fucking alive. They’re safe in each other’s hands, even in corners where strange men ask for strange things.
“Four Lanes? Really?” Barty says as they stand in front of an Off-Licence, white fluorescent lights shining on them. The green eyed boy grins at him and pulls him into the shop.
It’s too bright inside, Barty thinks, blinking incessantly. The entire wall of the shop behind the store assistant is stacked with alcohol and cigarettes and they’re far too young to buy any of it.
An awful pop song is playing on the speakers softly and Barty hates it. But then Regulus is looking at him and singing along and maybe Barty was wrong. Maybe it’s a good song and maybe he loves it.
Regulus points at him, “You’re the only one, the only one.” Yeah, Barty loves this song.
They’re dancing in the aisle and the girl behind the counter is watching Regulus, hearts forming in her eyes. She’s gawking, her focus on him, and Barty doesn’t even blame her ‘cause he’s so damn sure he looks the same.
“I dare you to steal a pack of Reds.” Barty rolls his eyes, but he would. God, he really would for Regulus.
“I double dare you.” Barty says and Regulus grins.
“I triple dare you.” He says, even though he knows what’s coming.
“I triple dog dare you, now you have to do it.”
Regulus does it and a part of Barty thinks he only dared him because he wanted a triple dog dare.
His phone’s ringing but it doesn’t matter. Not right now when they’re sitting so close, Barty can smell lavender and oak wood. But Barty’s dazed and Regulus can probably tell because he keeps him upright with his holy hands on his shoulder, holding him still. He’s missed this, he realises, and he suddenly wants to cry.
“My dad died.” He says finally. Regulus stays quiet. “A few months after you left, and I thought about fucking time.”
“I haven’t seen my parents since I left.”
“It gets lonely, doesn’t it?”
“You have other people to stop the loneliness.” Regulus says, playing with the hem of Barty’s shirt.
“I had you.” Barty says after a minute. Things are silent again for a while and Barty furrows his eyebrows, looking up at the ceiling. “I had you.” He repeats.
They sit like that for a while, basking in a comfortable quiet and Barty wonders if they’re thinking about the same thing. If Regulus remembers their nights and who they were. Barty wonders if Regulus left all that behind too when he left. Maybe leaving does that to you. Maybe you forget it all to create space for the new memories. Better ones.
Deep inside, Barty knows that’s why he stayed. Alleyways and streets and houses where they found each other and created a home when they were too young to know anything. If Regulus wasn’t his, at least the memories were. Maybe that’s all they were made for.
Maybe boys of the night are really only for the night, and maybe Regulus found the sun instead.
Barty’s phone rings again and Regulus goes to grab it this time. “Someone called Evan is calling?”
“Boss’ son.” Barty mumbles. “Had a shift today but obviously I didn’t go.”
Regulus nods like it’s all the explanation he needs.
Barty’s crying his organs out. His heart emptied a while ago, as did his lungs, and now he’s not sure how much more he can cry before he’s left dry and empty. His door’s slammed shut, not sure why since he’s home alone, and his pillow is stained with tears.
Barty thinks he might die but reconsiders this because what if Walburga Black changes her mind? What if Barty has something to say to her which means Regulus can come out to play?
But then he feels the ghost of her hand gripping onto his as she spat in his face, “Don’t you or your filthy hands come near my son ever again.”. Barty hates his hands, wants to cut them off. He doesn’t know what they did but he hates them.
He stares at them, eyes wide and red. How did they betray him? He doesn’t understand, he’s just fifteen and he’s just a boy.
Regulus reaches into his coat and takes out an envelope.
“Turn to act five, scene three in your copy of Romeo and Juliet.”
Barty scoffs, his head down on his desk. Romeo and Juliet? He thinks. Who can think of Romeo and Juliet when there are bigger problems in the world. Problems with green eyes and holy hands and awful mothers.
Someone taps his shoulder and Barty lifts his head and turns around to face a blonde girl who passes him a note. He reads it under his desk and he can’t breathe suddenly, can’t focus on Romeo and Juliet, or anything apart from meeting Regulus at the bridge after class. They meet eyes and Regulus smiles.
“What’s this?” Barty says.
“I didn’t come here for no reason, Barty.” Their fingers skim each other as Regulus passes the envelope over and Barty praises God for all that is holy.
It’s dark when they’re standing on the bridge, above the cars and under the moon. Barty slushes his feet along the snow as they stand side by side. His hands are itching to reach for something but he keeps them in his pocket. It’s safer.
Regulus looks sad and it’s the worst thing in the world. If Barty could carry his sadness for him, he would. He’d take it to the ends of the world and pour it into the ocean until there was only happiness for him.
His lip quivers, his hand clutching onto the railing of the bridge. “Mum says we’re cursed. Says we’re going to die.”
He looks so pretty when the cars shine their lights as they drive by. Barty wants to take a picture. “So what?” He says. “We’re all going to die one day.”
“Yeah, but I’m afraid.”
“So is everyone else. Besides, if I’m gonna die, I wanna die with you.”
Regulus looks up at Barty, his cheeks wet and his eyelashes curled at the ends. Barty swears he sees a smile and it’s worth dying for.
They stand on the bridge for a lifetime, looking at each other and nothing else, because nothing else really matters at this moment. Not even the Goddamn moon.
“I’m getting married.” Regulus says, and it knocks all the air out of Barty’s lungs, he thinks he’s dying.
“To who?”
“He’s called James and he’s wonderful, really.”
“Run away with me.” Barty asks him while they walk through falling snow. “Let’s live on your family boat, Reg.”
There’s no response for a while and Barty so badly wants him to say yes. “It’s a triple dog dare, you’re a chicken if you don’t.” He says and it finally elicits a small nod from Regulus.
Barty’s excited, it’s him and Regulus against the world now.
Barty’s in two minds: he either rips the envelope in half or he stays calm. He’s not fifteen anymore though, he knows better than to make irrational decisions. He stays calm.
He blinks. “When did you meet?”
“Few weeks after I left.”
Regulus doesn’t show up at the boat. Or at school either.
Barty sees his face on the side of milk cartons and on trees and realises Regulus ran away already, without him.
Maybe he’s not cursed, and he just wanted to get away. Maybe you weren’t supposed to be.
None of it makes sense really. All it means to Barty is that they were always the same, Barty just wasn’t good enough to run away for. There’s nothing much to it so he nods and stands up, the envelope still in his hands.
“That’s great, I’m–I’m happy for you. Congrats.” He turns away from Regulus. “I gotta get to work.”
“Now?”
Barty sniffles, “Yeah, now.”
“Oh. Okay.” Barty rummages around his room, as silence fills the air for a minute before Regulus speaks again. “Are you gonna come?”
Barty looks at him.
“To the wedding, I mean. Are you gonna come?”
“I–um, I’ll have to see. Might be super busy.” Regulus nods, standing in the middle of the room.
Barty zips his jacket all the way up his neck, feeling the way it scratches at his throat. He pulls his sleeves down his wrists and grabs his keys.
“Barty?” He hums in response, still not looking. “I triple dog dare you to come.”
Barty looks at him. He wants to scream and cry and maybe both. It hurts every bit of him but he’d carry bucketloads of Regulus’ pain so he nods to make him happy. “Yeah. Yeah, Reg, I’ll be there.”
They walk to the door together, quietly and full of unspoken words. It’s haunting but Barty needs this over and done with. He needs another pack of whatever it was he had the night before and he needs to not be with Regulus under the moon.
Regulus’ phone rings and Barty recognises the tune: “You’re the only one, the only one.”
He prays for the ground to swallow him whole while Regulus answers the call as he gets into his car, “Hey, James.”