boba-pearl-writes

[boba-pearl-writes]

8/5 - desperate - word count: 773 - pt 2 of this - @rosekillermicrofic

Barty couldn’t stop staring at Evan’s face.

They’d gotten out of the party as soon as Evan realized that Barty’s nose wasn’t going to stop bleeding without going to the hospital wing. That was a few hallways ago, and Evan’s hand was still in Barty’s.

Every single nerve ending on Barty’s hands - which Barty, although he knew nothing about the human body, assumed was a lot - was on fucking fire. Barty looked down at their joined hands and brushed his finger over Evan’s knuckles just to see what would happen, to relieve some of that restlessness, and Evan’s hand stiffened in his. Barty considered stopping for a second, because he didn’t want Evan to ignore him again, didn’t want to have to go through the past week all over again.

But then, Evan’s hand relaxed in his, and he looked back up. Evan's cheeks were slightly red, barely visible over his dark skin, but Barty could tell anyways. How could he not, after having stared at Evan all these years, so intently like he was trying to memorize him?

Barty wondered for a brief moment if this was overstepping, if he was close to messing this up again. But, honestly? If there’d been any overstepping it had been that night, when he’d tasted Evan’s lips. And those words from when they were at the party played over and over in his mind. “We’re good, Bee.”

So what did he have to fear?

Barty gazed at Evan’s face, at how those beautiful hazel eyes determinedly looked straight ahead, at those blond dreads falling out of Evan’s messy ponytail. On an impulse, Barty brushed the dreads away from Evan’s eyes with his free hand, the tips of his fingers brushing Evan’s face. Evan sucked in a sharp breath and stopped in his tracks. Barty stopped a few steps ahead of him, not anticipating the sudden pause.

“Barty,” Evan whispered, his eyes sad - almost scared - as he turned to face Barty. “What are we doing?”

Barty raised an eyebrow. “Walking to the hospital wing?”

Evan huffed in frustration. “No, Bee, you- I- the fucking kiss.” The way Evan said those words scared Barty. Like Evan couldn’t wrap his head around the idea that they’d kissed. Like the forgiveness Barty had just gotten was about to be taken back.

“What about it?” Barty asked, trying for a confident tone, but his voice shook like it was carrying the weight of the world.

“Was it real?” Evan asked - or more whispered, his voice like a breath released into the air between them, a secret just for this empty hallway.

“Was it for you?” Barty asked, desperate. Please, Merlin, a small voice in the back of his head begged. If I’ve ever wanted one thing in my fucking life, this is it.

“I-” Evan looked like it physically pained him to say the words. Barty could see the beginning of tears in his eyes. “Yeah, Bee. It- when we kissed-” Evan trailed off, the adoring look in his eyes, the way he looked at Barty like he’d hung the sun and the stars and the entire damn sky said more than his words ever could.

“Yeah,” Barty said. “Me too.” His voice seemed too loud, too cracked for such a tender confession. He always thought himself too rough, too violent to be loved, but then came Evan- Unassuming, quietly crazy, beautiful Evan Rosier holding his entire fucking heart in his hand, beating and bloody. 

“Fuck,” Evan said, his eyes wide. Barty grinned, pulling Evan closer by the hand he was still holding.

“Yeah, fuck,” Barty said. Evan’s hands clasped the front of Barty’s shirt, crumpling the fabric in his hands like he was holding onto sand. Barty slipped an arm around Evan’s waist, pulling him close, closer. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yeah,” Evan said, as one of his hands slipped up to cup the back of Barty’s neck, pulling him down to his level. “Yeah, you can fucking kiss me.”

When their lips met, when they sunk into each other again, it was like they’d somehow melded- like Barty had been made whole by Evan, and Evan by Barty.

Evan tasted like fruit punch and firewhiskey, because of the party. There was also a strange metallic taste Barty couldn’t - and didn’t particularly want to, right now - figure out. 

“Bee, your nose,” Evan said, breaking away from Barty’s hold. Oh. That’s what it had been. “We need to get you to the hospital wing.” Barty pouted. 

“Five more minutes?” He asked, not really a question, because he knew Evan was thinking the same thing he was.

Evan kissed him again

[boba-pearl-writes]

8/3 - interpret - word count: 781 - @pandalilymicrofics

Taking Pandora over to visit Lily’s parents and Petunia was probably the worst idea Lily had ever had, and that included her drunken kiss with Barty back in high school. It wasn’t her parents that were the problem, it was more her sister. Well. It was more accurate to say it was all Petunia that was the problem.

Her parents didn’t have a problem with her coming out to them as bisexual. Why would they have one now that she had a girlfriend? That part was pretty self explanatory.

Petunia hadn’t had a problem with her being bisexual either. As a matter of fact, Petunia had actually taken her to her first pride parade, wearing an outrageously bright rainbow t-shirt all the while. But then why did she have a problem with Pandora? Literally the sweetest person on Earth- sweet, playful, funny, and, oh, did she mention, the love of her life?

Lily had always been a logical person, and from the moment she started talking about Pandora, she’d noticed Petunia’s blank face and felt the disapproval radiating from her sister in waves. She’d been able to interpret that as Petunia not liking Pandora.

So. Why again had she thought this was a good idea?

They were at the dinner table, Pandora chatting to Lily’s parents happily, while throwing nervous looks at Petunia every once in a while. Petunia, for her part, was picking at her food, the corner of her lips pulled down. Pandora looked like she thought she might be eaten alive any second. Lily wanted so desperately to pull her into her arms. 

“Petunia? A word?” Lily said, more of a demand than a question. Petunia looked slightly surprised at how dull Lily’s tone was and she fought hard not to roll her eyes. Before she got up, Lily squeezed Pandora’s hand lightly and reassured her. “I’ll be right back, sweetheart.”

Lily walked to the living room, out of way enough that her parents and Pandora couldn’t hear what was being said. Petunia followed her without a word.

“Why do you hate my girlfriend?” She asked, getting straight to the point. Petunia looked rather affronted at the statement.

“I don’t hate your girlfriend.”

“Then talk to her,” Lily asked, raising an eyebrow in challenge. Petunia pursed her lips, not saying anything. “‘Tuney, she’s Pandora. She’s the sweetest person ever- literally what do you have to fear?”

“I’m not scared of her,” Petunia said incredulously. “She’s nice and I do really like her.” Petunia hesitated for a second. Lily was a bit more relaxed now that she’d said that out loud, but she was still confused.

“But…?” she prompted.

“But, well. Lils, I- You hang out with her too often,” Petunia said, her tone almost that of a whiny kid.

“I ‘hang out’ with my girlfriend too often?” Lily asked sarcastically, putting air quotes around the words.

“Lily,” her sister said, almost like she was pleading with her to understand her point of view. Lily softened.

“‘Tuney, I love you. But I also love Panda. So, so much.” Lily sighed. “I just want you two to get along,” she said, almost feeling like the little kid who’d looked up to her big sister so much, who’d loved her unconditionally and been loved back in return. Even when things were rocky- especially then.

“Lily, I- it’s stupid,” Petunia muttered the last two words under her breath. Lily waited. “I just don’t want us to grow apart again.”

“‘Tuney, we won’t,” Lily said, surprised by the emotion in the confession. Petunia looked unconvinced, the beginnings of tears in her eyes. Lily put out her hands like she was four and Petunia was six again, and she was asking for a hug. Except now Lily was nineteen and Petunia twenty one and nothing had changed because Petunia pulled her in like she had all those years ago, because she was sinking into her sister’s favorite hoodie and it felt like home, like them again.

“Petunia, you’re my sister. Obviously I’ll always love you,” Lily said, wiping at her eyes, when they pulled away. “But- Pandora’s the love of my life. I- ‘Tuney, I can’t describe in words how much I love her.” Petunia laughed at that, albeit fondly.

“Oh, you’ve tried. Many times,” she said, with a shit-eating grin. “Especially when you’re drunk.” Petunia put a hand to her forehead, sighing dramatically. “‘Oh, ‘Tuney, Pan’s just so perfect, I love her so much. She’s so beautiful and her hands. Oh, her hands-’” Lily cut off her sister, slapping her on the arm, and they both burst into laughter.

“Oh, god, do I really sound like that?”

“No,” Petunia said, smug. “You’re worse.”

[boba-pearl-writes]

7/29 - advice - word count: 88 - @rosekillermicrofic

“Why would I take relationship advice from you?” Regulus asked skeptically.

Barty looked down at Evan, who was sleeping with his head on Barty’s shoulder. His mouth was slightly open, and Barty smiled softly as he dropped his head back on Evan’s. “Well,” he said slowly. “I do seem to be doing better in the love department than you.” Regulus rolled his eyes, but didn’t say anything more.

Barty looked at Regulus pointedly.

“Fine, Barty,” Regulus groaned, conceding. “I can’t believe I’m saying this but- tell me more.”

[boba-pearl-writes]

7/29 - reflection - word count: 976 - @rosekillermicrofic

Barty and Evan haven’t been talking to each other for a week.

It wasn’t a conscious decision. Or, at least, not on both sides. For Evan it might’ve been. Barty didn’t know. All he remembered was that night, when he was drunk and Evan was high and Barty probably was a bit, too.

They’d been looking at the sky, and Evan had made some stupid joke about Regulus always watching them. And Barty had laughed, because it was funny. Simple as that. Reg knew they both did stupid shit, so he supervised them, like they were little kids who’d been given scissors. And, honestly, that comparison wasn’t that far from the truth.

Barty looked back at Evan, to tell him another stupid joke, because that’s just how things between them were. They said things, they laughed, they leaned a bit closer every time, over and over.

Evan was already looking at him, his hazel eyes soft as he gazed at Barty like he was drinking him in. Barty’s mind went blank. He blinked. He inched his hand towards Evan’s, inched himself closer to Evan. Evan leaned forward. Barty matched his movement. That’s just what they did, right?

Evan’s lips landed on his own, and Barty’s hand caught Evan’s. And fuck.

Fuck.

That was not what they did. What friends did.

Barty pulled away and stood up. He ran away. Evan had kissed him, and he’d run away.

Which brings them to now. The stupid Gryffindor party that Dorcas had wanted them all to go to, that Regulus and Pandora had immediately agreed to because, surprise surprise, they were also dating Gryffindors. Bloody traitors, the lot of them, Barty thought bitterly as he leaned against the table with the drinks which, surprisingly, contained a vast variety. At least the Gryffindors knew how to have fun, Barty conceded.

He stared at the opposite corner of the room, where Evan was with Dorcas, talking in hushed whispers and laughing at other people’s outfits, as usual. Except this time, Marlene was with them too, an arm thrown around Dorcas’s shoulder casually.

Evan never looked at him. Never so much as glanced back.

Suddenly, a figure with black hair blocked his vision. Barty recognized him right away, and how could he not? The Sirius Black. A reflection of Regulus, except with less bite and more bark. Barty pulled his lips into a smirk. Oh, he was going to have fun with this. If he was going to be left alone by all his friends and ignored, then he deserved at least this bit of fun.

“Crouch,” Sirius said, with a displeased expression.

“Black,” Barty acknowledged.

“Stop looking at Marlene and Dorcas like that,” Sirius said, cutting right to the chase, his voice flat. This seemed… different from their usual, somewhat bantering, somewhat insulting exchanges. “Are you fucking homophobic?”

What. “What the fuck are you on about?” Barty asked, too drunk to be able to even start to comprehend how Sirius had arrived at that conclusion.

“You’re staring at them like you hate them.” And, okay, no. Barty was definitely not taking that.

“I thought you were smart, Black,” he said, voice cold. Sirius went to interrupt, but Barty cut him off. “Dorcas is my friend, and I love her like a sister. Though, you wouldn’t know much about loving siblings, would you?”

And there.

Barty saw the exact moment the question clicked in Sirius’s mind. The exact moment his teeth grinded against each other and his fists clenched.

“Fuck you,” Sirius spat out. Barty smiled, something that looked completely innocent, but, really, he just wanted to egg Sirius on. He reveled in that anger. In that moment where you weren’t sure whether you were going to be punched or insulted. Barty opened his mouth to say something else, but Sirius’s fist hit his face.

Barty backed up against the wall with a groan, clutching his face. By the wetness on his fingers, he could tell his nose was bleeding. Fuck Sirius, he thought venomously.

“What the fuck, Barty?” That was a new voice, though Barty was surprised at the harshness. He’d never heard Evan sound like this before, this angry. Usually, he wasn’t the type of person to raise his voice at anyone, but- wait. Evan?

“Rosie?” Barty whispered. At that moment, he could care less about everyone around them, about what had just happened with the older Black, and even about his broken nose. He lifted his head up, only half aware of the blood now dripping onto the front of his shirt. And, fuck. Evan looked heavenly, his blonde dreads tied half up, his eyeliner slightly smudged, glaring at Barty like this was all somehow his fault. Barty couldn’t care less. Evan was here, talking to him. “Why’re you ‘ere?” he asked, voice coming out slightly strange because of the blood clogging his nose.

At this question, Evan’s glare softened. “I’ll always be here, dumbass. Especially for when you get yourself in trouble.” Barty tried to smile, on cloud fucking nine because Evan was finally talking to him, saying sweet things and being nice, but then he winced, his hands coming up to cover his nose. Right. The broken nose. Evan frowned, reaching his hand to cradle Barty’s cheek. He gently pried Barty’s hands away from his nose and cleaned up the blood with a tap of his wand and a whispered spell.

“We might need to get you to Pomfrey,” Evan said thoughtfully, as blood started oozing out of Barty’s nose again.

“Are we good, though?” Barty asked, wanting to make sure that he hadn’t fucked up. That the last few days had just been a fluke, some kind of cosmic error, that they’d go back to normal. Just Barty and Evan.

“Yeah,” Evan looked up at Barty, his expression unreadable, but his eyes fond. “We’re good, Bee.”

pt 2 here

[boba-pearl-writes]

6/12 - conclusion - word count: 144 - @rosekillermicrofic

“So, to get to the Gryffindor common room, we need an inside man-“

“Man? Don’t you mean person? Shit, I thought you believed in equal rights, Rosie.” Evan and Barty were planning on sneaking into the next Gryffindor party. Or, well, how it was going, Evan was planning and Barty was being a menace.

“Shut up, Barty. An inside person! So, in conclusion-“

“The fuck is this, an essay for McGonagall?” Barty leaned back in his chair, so far back that it was a wonder he didn’t tip over entirely. He had a careless smirk on his face, like he was being infuriating on purpose, and Evan knew he was.

“Shut up, Barty,” Evan said, as he glared at him. Barty’s smirk grew wider and Evan could guess the next words out of Barty’s mouth before he said them.

“Make me.”

And Evan did. 

[boba-pearl-writes]

6/8 - sugar - word count: 376 - @rosekillermicrofic

Evan was sulking. 

Him and Barty had gone to Hogsmeade the other day, and bought a bunch of sweets from Honeydukes. Evan, in particular, had stocked up on his favorite - sugar quills. 

He’d shoved all of them into a box under his bed for later when they’d gotten back, and had slipped into Barty’s bed. They’d talked, and kissed, and then there’d been a bit less talking. 

That wasn’t why Evan was sad, though, obviously. No, the reason Evan was sulking was because of what happened the next day. 

He’d woken up and checked under his bed, inside the box that he’d made sure to lock. His sugar quills were gone. All of them. Just fucking disappeared into thin air.

“Reg,” he called out. “Did you take my sugar quills?”

“Shut the fuck up.” Which was not a no, true, but it was as close to an answer as Evan was going to get. He also knew Regulus didn’t have much of a sweet tooth, so it wouldn’t make sense that he’d taken them. 

And Barty… he didn’t have reason to suspect Barty. After all, they’d gone together and Barty didn’t even like sugar quills that much. Though, there wasn’t any candy that he wouldn’t eat. 

But for now, he wasn’t a suspect. 

“Bee,” Evan whined. “Someone took my sugar quills.” As soon as Barty came into view, Evan knew that something was off. He was smirking, and had a look on his face. The kind of look he always had when he got up to something that he knew would get him into trouble. 

“Aw, Rosie,” he drawled. “That fuckin’ sucks.” He leaned down to press a kiss onto Evan’s closed lips, like a silent comfort. Evan smiled and pulled him in closer by the front of his shirt. Usually Evan would be opposed to kissing this early in the morning but Barty, surprisingly, didn’t taste of morning breath. 

He tasted heavenly, like smoke and sickly sweetness. Almost like the taste of-

“Wait a fucking second.”

Evan pulled back, narrowing his eyes at Barty. He’d been an idiot to trust him, especially with matters where candies were involved. 

“Did you take my sugar quills?” The laugh that Barty let out just confirmed it. “You prick.”

[boba-pearl-writes]

7/1 - tear - word count: 508 - @rosekillermicrofic

Barty lay awake in the dead of night, like always. He was on his back, slightly overheating as Evan was sleeping cuddled up to him and the covers were pulled up high. They slept like this every night, since Evan ran cold. 

Barty was always a bit too warm for comfort, but he would die before he asked Evan to move. This was… soft. Domestic. Something he never thought they could have, now that they were working for the Dark Lord.

Barty stared at the ceiling, his arm starting to go numb since it’d been under his head for so long. His other hand was tracing shapes on Evan’s arm that was slung across his chest. Tracing along scars, old and new, familiar tattoos, and nonsensical patterns. Tracing softly, so that Evan wouldn’t wake up.

A bit later, maybe a few minutes, maybe an hour, he was suddenly aware that Evan was moving next to him, his arm around him growing tighter. He turned to Evan, worried as he saw his face scrunched up in an expression Barty could clearly identify - fear. He was mumbling words in his sleep - “no”, and “help”, and “Barty”.

“Rosie,” Barty whispered, gently shaking Evan by the shoulder. His shaking grew more insistent as Evan started breathing hard and twisting away from Barty’s grip. “Ev. Evan. Wake up.”

Evan’s eyelids fluttered like he was trying to pull himself away from the clutches of his dreams - nightmares, more likely - and he sat up, breathing hard, and his eyes wild. Barty pushed himself up, too, and his heart broke as he saw a tear slip down Evan’s face. 

“Ev?” Evan turned to look at him, and Barty was just about to ask if he could touch him when Evan wrapped his arms around him in a tight hug, burying his face into Barty’s shoulder. Barty wrapped Evan in a hug that was just as tight. “What’s wrong?”

Evan mumbled something into Barty’s shoulder. “I didn’t hear that, angel,” Barty said gently, and Evan pulled away from him, wiping at his eyes.

“You’re okay,” Evan said, as if that phrase carried all the weight in the world. He still had an iron grip on Barty’s shoulders, like he was scared that, if he stopped holding Barty to him, he would disappear.

“I’m okay, sweetheart.” Barty ran his hands up and down Evan’s sides, a quiet reassurance. “Did you think I wouldn’t be?”

“No- well-” Evan hesitated for a second, before settling on an answer. “Nightmares. You know how it is.” And, yeah. Barty did know- after all, this was expected, when they were in danger every day. Barty pulled Evan into a hug again, the both of them just staying in each others’ warmth. 

“You were dead, Barty,” Evan said, voice choked as if it took everything out of him to say those words. Barty squeezed him closer, like making sure nothing would ever come between them. And nothing would, if he had a say in it.

“You can’t get rid of me that easy, Ev.”

[boba-pearl-writes]

6/27 - sex - word count: 992 - @rosekillermicrofic

Evan was suffocating. 

It was a normal, maybe even peaceful day, and Evan felt like he couldn’t breathe. To be fair, though, this feeling had been building up for quite a bit. 

And all of it had to do with Barty. Everything did, now - the good and the bad - because Barty was his. Finally, after months of dancing around each other and drunk kisses during parties, Barty was his. 

But now, Evan worried that his - for lack of a better word - secret, would bring all of that down. Every time he looked at Barty, every time he saw him staring back, every time they touched, every time they kissed; every single time, Evan would worry. 

Why?

Well, that had a lot to do with the fact that Evan never had, and never would, want sex. He’d found a word for it a few months ago, when talking to Pettigrew during a party. He’d said he felt the same, and Evan had relaxed, if only for that one conversation. Maybe it wasn’t just him.

Pettigrew had called it being “asexual,” and Evan thought that was a rather apt name for it. 

But Barty, as Evan had heard and, on one unfortunate occasion, seen, was the complete opposite. Before Barty and Evan had gotten together, Barty could usually be found with his tongue down another person’s throat at any party, and find his way to that person’s bed the night after. 

And now, Evan thought that was inevitable. That he’d be in that position and he would say no, and then, quite obviously, Barty would leave him. 

Barty’s leg nudged his own, breaking him out of his thoughts. They were in a charms lesson, and Flitwick was teaching something  or the other about giggling charms. Barty slid a note over to him. 

“You okay? You’re pouting,” the note read. Evan rolled his eyes and scribbled something back. 

“I am NOT pouting.”

Barty muffled a chuckle under a cough. He leaned over and whispered directly in Evan’s ear - “oh, darling, you are, and it is adorable.”

Evan turned bright red, and Barty had to “cough” again, which drew Flitwick’s attention over to them. They quieted down, but Barty leaned over again a few minutes later, when the whole class was drowned in chatter. 

“Are you okay, though?” He asked, the crease between his eyebrows betraying his worry. Evan gave him a lopsided smile.

“I- yeah, Barty, I’m okay.” Barty’s arm came around him, pulling him close into Barty’s side. 

“I’m not buying that, and you are going to tell me later,” Barty said. Evan tensed, his mind running through several different possibilities, all ending with Barty being disgusted with him, Barty being disappointed, Barty leaving him. 

Barty leaving was something Evan didn’t want to imagine, or to think about.

He didn’t want that, period. He didn’t, but it seemed sort of inevitable now, didn’t it?

-x-

When Evan came back from the shower, Barty was already sitting on his bed. He looked up as he heard Evan approaching, and smiled up at him. 

“Hey,” Barty said, as Evan sat down next to Barty.

“Hi.” Barty studied Evan’s face for a few seconds, then entwined Evan’s hand with his own. 

“You still look sad,” Barty said, his voice soft. Evan stared down at the blanket, his free hand picking at the hem of his shirt.

“It’s nothing,” Evan whispered, moving to leave the bed, to do something, anything that got him out of this situation, out of telling Barty, but Barty held his hand firmly. He wasn’t going to let him leave. 

When Barty wanted something, he fought for it. And right now, what Barty wanted most was Evan. 

“It’s not nothing, Ev. If it’s important to you, it is for me, too.” When Evan didn’t say anything, Barty spoke again. “Us against the world, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Evan tore his gaze from the bed, and looked at Barty. He looked calm, and comforting. “Barty, I have something to tell you.” Barty nodded, a bit confused, but as if inviting him to speak. “I’m… I’m asexual. Do you know what that means?”

Barty thought for a moment. “I can take a guess, yeah,” he said. Evan felt the suffocating feeling growing, his mind so fast it felt dizzying. Barty would say something, and he would get up and- and he would leave. “So?” 

Wait, what? Evan stared at Barty incredulously.

“What do you mean ‘so?’ I’m asexual. Barty, I’m- I’m never going to have sex with you.”

“No, you aren’t.”

“Doesn’t that bother you?” Evan asked, as if pleading Barty to just tell him that he wasn’t it for Barty anymore, to just get it over with. 

“Evan,” Barty said firmly. “Evan, I love you.” Barty grasped his hand firmer, and came closer to him. “I love you, and not anything more than what you’re comfortable with. Just you. Nothing more.”

“Oh,” Evan whispered, taken aback by how deadset Barty sounded, on him. “You still love me?”

“Did you think I wouldn’t?” Barty asked, frowning. He kissed Evan on the cheek, then smiled. “I have loved you, Evan Rosier, as if you were a part of my soul, since we were twelve, and I’m not going to stop because of who you are. I never will.” Barty’s free hand came up to the back of Evan’s neck to pull him into another kiss, then he paused. 

“This is okay, right? Kissing, touching like this? You’ll tell me when it’s not?” Barty clarified, worry knitting his brows together. 

Evan smiled, smiled properly, for the first time in a week, and brought his hands up to cup Barty’s face. “I appreciate you checking, but yeah. It’s okay Barty. It’s amazing.” Barty grinned, and Evan pulled him in this time. 

He breathed Barty in - his love, his pure adoration for Evan, that he never hesitated to show - and he was no longer starved for air. 

[boba-pearl-writes]

marauders as things my friends said:

Regulus: if jesus met you, he'd spit on you Barty, without hesitation: and I'd get turned on.

[boba-pearl-writes]

honestly, if you’re going to make james mean and spoiled. you kind of have to make him and regulus bond over making fun of people.

i want to watch james and regulus gossip in the courtyard, and realize that they have a lot in common.

once they get together, it’s hell for everybody.

[boba-pearl-writes]

6/22 - respect - word count: 634 - @rosekillermicrofic

“What would you have done?”

It’s hard to hear Evan, for Barty, right then, over the rush of the blood thudding in his ears, the commotion of the battle they’ve left behind. 

“What?”

“If there’d not been a war. What would you have done?” Evan looks up at him, pale and eyes shining with pain, but so, so earnest. Pleading, like he wants an answer. A glimpse into the life they never got and never will. 

Don’t think like that, Barty urges himself. But then again, when has he ever listened to anyone?

“I would’ve loved you,” Barty says, and it’s sincere, and simple. He kisses the tip of Evan’s nose, then both of his cheeks. He continues peppering kisses on Evan’s face as he gives weak giggles.

“We could’ve had a house together,” Evan says, tears beading up in his eyes, and the first one to break through is like a burst dam. Barty’s heart twists watching Evan like this, now. He could- he could kill the person who did this. He would. He would do it. “Maybe- maybe with Reggie, and Dor, and Panda.” Each of those names leave Barty feeling like he wants to throw up. 

He misses them. With his whole body, like someone has carved out a piece of his heart and squeezed it, bruised and bloody. And he feels that hole inside him aching. He tries to imagine a different universe where- where Evan is right. 

A universe where they’ve built a life away from the father Barty never respected, and away from the responsibilities of the House of Rosier. Away from the Dark Lord and serving him, but safer and together nonetheless.

He can’t. He can’t see any further than what he sees around him now, and that’s the final nail in the coffin. The realization that here, now, is the only thing that’s real. 

“Evan,” he sobs out, clutching at him, cradling Evan to him like it’s their last day to be together. And it is. It is and Barty will never be the same after. He didn’t even think there was going to be an after. After all, it had always been them, together, against the world. Not just Barty, nor just Evan. And Barty had thought it would always be like that. “Rosie. Don’t leave me. Don’t- don’t do that.”

Evan lifts up a hand to his face and brushes away the tears. Barty leans into his touch, melts into it - it is the only comfort Barty has ever known, in his miserable little life. “Don’t cry, Barty. Don’t cry, please.”

“I’m sorry,” Barty weeps. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re perfect,” Evan says with conviction, even as tears trail down his cheeks. “I love you, Bee, you’re beautiful. You’re perfect.” He says it like it’s a fact of life, like Barty is the only thing that there is in the world worth praising. 

He’d loved that tone, once. The one Evan’s voice took on when it was just the two of them, when they were whispering secrets to each other that were snatched by the air between them. Now, Evan’s whispered words seem like an ultimatum. 

“Stay,” Barty begs, pleads, even though he knows it’s out of their control. Evan pulls Barty down and he goes willingly, his arms around Evan growing tighter, to keep him with Barty. 

And there was another kiss like this, wasn’t there? In form, but not in circumstance? One when Barty thought he’d never again be unhappy, never let that smile out of his face, as long as he had Evan’s beautiful hazel eyes in his sight. As long as he could see that reassuring shade of brown with flecks of green that danced in the light. 

Barty couldn’t see those eyes anymore.

He never could bring himself to smile again.

[boba-pearl-writes]

AHHH TY FOR THE TAG!! I love love love writing tag games

1st word - dysfunction

Nothing ever worked right in that mind of hers - it was like a machine with several screws loose.

2nd word - engage

Nothing ever worked right in that mind of hers - it was like a machine engaged in the most important labor, thinking, but with several screws loose.

(is that allowed I added an extra ‘d’ to the word-)

npt!! @bleep-bloop-boo @uhhlifeig @a-dam-heartstopper-fan @the-fourth-dimension69 aaaand idk any other moots that write so open tags (tell me if you don’t wanna be tagged next time-)

this tag game thing is for those who feel like writing, dunno what to write about, or do but don't think it'll be good:

pick something from this wheel

and write a sentence inspired by it. the word you got cannot be used in the sentence, nor described. it has to inspire the sentence.

then pick from this wheel

take your first sentence; put the second word into it in a way that make sense without changing anything (you can add tho). no matter what your first sentence was, fit the second word in- make the first sentence a context, despite how stupid it'll sound.

idk how to explain properly tho, so i'll go:

1st word: black

1st sentence: truth may not be told in full, for the hark unseeing I can cause brings what most know as the darkest of visions.

2nd word: cake

(wtf why'd i do this-)

2nd sentence: truth may not be told in full, for the hark unseeing I can cause brings to whom blew out the cake's candle what most know as the darkest of visions.

anyway npt: @regulus0cantswim0black @mairon-goth-minion @kylie-weasleyxo @b4rty-r0s13r-w1ll-fck-y0ur-m0m @danger-dayze @abductedhiko @my-castles-crumbling dk if you guys will, but i have to start somewhere so sorry <3

[boba-pearl-writes]

support - 6/15 - word count: 182 - @rosekillermicrofic

“Bee?”

“Yeah?”

“You know I’ll support you no matter what, right?” They were sitting in Evan’s bed late on a Saturday night. Well, Evan was sitting, and Barty was curled up, his head on Evan’s lap and his arms hugging his waist. Evan ran his hands through Barty’s hair, mussing it up and then smoothing it back down again. “I’ll follow you, wherever you want to go.”

Barty’s face turned up to look at Evan at the question. “‘Course, Evs.” He hesitated for a second, holding Evan’s gaze. “I would, too. For you.” 

Barty sat up a bit, and placed his hand on Evan’s face, brushing his thumb just under his eye. Evan’s eyelids fluttered shut, his eyelashes golden against his cheek. “You’re it for me, Rosie,” Barty whispered, like a secret for just the two of them. “Ride or die.”

“Yeah.” Evan smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair that had fallen into Barty’s face back. “Ride or die.”

Ride or die. Three fierce words spoken in a soft moment that were a promise and, as their story unfolded, a prophecy. 

[boba-pearl-writes]

wolfstar core

[boba-pearl-writes]

6/1 - pride - word count: 335 - @rosekillermicrofic

As Barty, Evan, and Regulus walked into the Gryffindor common room, the first thing Evan saw was the bright, rainbow colored banner that proudly declared “HAPPY PRIDE!” It had been enchanted to shoot out rainbow colored confetti every time someone came in its vicinity, and Evan was distracted by the fact that it only sputtered out a weak burst of confetti when Sirius passed by it to welcome them in.

“He’s not gay enough,” Barty said, with a disapproving tone, as Sirius came to stand in front of them. Sirius looked so offended that Evan wasn’t quite sure if it was mock-offense or the real thing.

“Excuse you, I am plenty gay!”

“Oh yeah?” Barty challenged, grabbing onto Evan’s shirt then kissing him full on the mouth. Evan pulled back, glaring at Barty. “How’s that for gay? I’m pride month ready, bitch.”

“Please,” Sirius said, crossing his arms. “The only thing you’ve got to be proud of is your inflated ego.” Evan snickered, and Barty turned to him, looking affronted.

“Rosie! How could you?”

“He’s not wrong,” Evan said, shrugging his shoulders. Regulus, seemingly done with all three of them, wandered off to find James, rolling his eyes. Barty and Sirius, however, did not seem like they were done with this petty argument, still staring at each other with a vague sense of apprehension.

Evan sighed, then wrapped his arm around Barty’s tie and tugged him down, hard. He kissed Barty, deeper than Barty had kissed him earlier. Barty melted into it, one hand on the back of Evan’s neck and the other on his back. Barty tried to deepen the kiss, but Evan pulled away. “The sooner we get back to our dorm-” Evan released his grip on Barty’s tie “-the sooner we’ll get to continue that.” Barty let out a breathless ‘uh huh’ and followed Evan as he walked away to find Dorcas and Pandora, who were already here. 

“How’s that for gay, Sirius?” Evan called behind his shoulder as he walked away.

[boba-pearl-writes]

5/31 - soul - word count: 128 - @rosekillermicrofic

“You know what I’ve always wondered?” Barty asked. Evan turned his head to look at Barty. They were both lying on Evan’s bed, Barty spread-eagled and Evan snuggled up to his side, Evan’s head resting on Barty’s arm.

“What?” Evan asked. Whenever Barty said something, it was usually either very random, or very unusual, or both. He sounded genuine now, though, so Evan was intrigued.

“Whether soulmates are real,” Barty said, tilting his face sideways so he and Evan were facing each other, so close they were breathing the same air. 

“And did you get an answer?” Evan asked, his voice a whisper in anticipation. A breath lost to the air.

“Well, they must be,” said Barty, leaning closer so that their noses brushed together. “I’ve got you.”