#bri’s microfics

[bri-cheeses]

| May 30th | Prompt: Benefits | Word count: 689 | *slight* sexual content implied but it’s barely there I promise (it mentions being fwb and also the presence of a hickey) | @rosekillermicrofic |

-

Evan saw her before Barty did. The girl making her way across the room, eyes fixed on him, friends giggling in a pack behind her.

He marveled about how she didn’t get the hint that he wasn’t exactly looking for a relationship right now. Barty’s arm was wrapped around his waist. Evan’s legs were in Barty’s lap. Barty was leaning in and whispering something into his ear at this very moment, lips brushing against his skin.

But, he supposed he couldn’t fault her for making the mistake of thinking that him and Barty were just friends. After all, that was what Barty thought, too—even though the hickey Evan was currently sporting had been left there by him.

Oh, the wonders of being friends with benefits.

“Excuse me,” said the girl, having successfully made her way over to the couch where they were sitting, “are you single, by any chance?”

She flashed a pretty smile at Evan, who didn’t get a chance to respond before Barty was growling, “Can’t you see that we were in the middle of a conversation?”

His fingers dug into Evan waist as his grip tightened.

The girl blinked, looking over at Barty in surprise. “Sorry, I just thought—”

“You thought wrong,” Barty interrupted. “He doesn’t want or need your advances.”

The girl’s face fell, and a flash of annoyance shot through Evan at Barty’s words.

Who was Barty to be making his decisions for him? Evan certainly didn’t get an opinion when Barty was the one getting approached by other people.

“Who says I don’t want her advances?” Evan asked before he could think better of it, and something flashed in Barty’s eyes.

Barty reached up and tapped a finger against the mark on Evan’s neck.

“This does,” he said.

“Oh really?” Evan asked incredulously. “Did it say anything when Charity Burbage flirted with you last week? Or when you kissed Hestia Jones after the quidditch match? Or all the other times I tried to come back to the dorm but couldn’t because you were with somebody else?”

Barty opened his mouth to say something, but Evan was done listening.

He turned toward the girl and gave her a smile, and if it was slightly fake, no one needed to know.

“Hey,” he said, reaching out a hand, “I’m Evan.”

She took his hand and gave it an uncertain shake. “I’m Violette.”

“And I’m Barty,” interjected Barty, despite his presence in the conversation being completely unnecessary. He gave Violette a grin, but it was more teeth than smile.

Violette didn’t take the hand he offered, instead looking between Barty and Evan with a strange look on her face. Something like understanding dawned in her eyes.

“I see what’s going on here,” she said. “I think I’ll just… leave you to it. Nice meeting you,” she shot over her shoulder at Evan as she left, giving him one last flirtatious look before disappearing into the crowd.

“What was that?” Evan demanded as soon as she was gone, rounding on Barty.

Barty scowled. “What was what?”

“You acted liked a deranged guard dog.”

The grip on Evan’s waist tightened further.

“I didn’t like the way she was looking at you.”

“What, with a smile?”

“I didn’t like it,” Barty repeated.

“You’re going to have to give me a better answer than that, or I’m leaving.”

Barty worked his jaw, avoiding eye contact with Evan. Evan waited.

And waited.

And waited some more.

When it became clear that Barty wasn’t going to say anything, Evan shoved Barty’s hand off his waist and stood up.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t wait a moment or two for Barty to speak, but Barty didn’t even look at him as he stood there, waiting in vain for some semblance of an answer.

“Fine,” Evan told him angrily. “If that’s how you want it to be.”

Then he left Barty behind, sitting alone on the couch and still glaring at the ground.

And all Evan could think as he made his way through the throngs of people was a bitter “Of course.”

Oh, the wonders of being friends with benefits.

-

[thevikingwoman]

✍️ definitely Illia and Illia/Veyer!! I love how you write her thoughts and her inner turmoil. but also I'd love to see more of Bhrianna too! ❤️

Thank you!

Veyer has me by the throat so I’m sure I’ll write them. We will see how it goes for Illia and them, considering they’re not a romance and all.

I will write Bhrianna! I love my non angsty wayfarer

[galadae]

✍️ more Bri! I love her! I’d love to see both some aeran moments but also some Bri alone.

Oh and I’d love to see some of Kith

thanks viking! ahh I should write Kith, they're so fun. And I have a lot of ideas for Bri too!

[addisonstars]

till' death do we part

written for day 13 of december for @jegulus-microfic with the prompt "jail" totaling 827 words (oops)

tw: implied/refrenced homophobia

James gets a call from the county jail at 11:37 p.m. and to say that he wasn’t happy was a bit of an understatement. Regulus, Barty and Evan all went out for drinks tonight, claiming it was “boys night,” and James didn’t care. (He may have cared a bit though when Regulus went out in that outfit and James didn’t get to see it in action. 

But he definitely did care that Regulus said he’d be home before 11, and he had yet to receive a call, or even a text from Reg saying that he was still alive or that he would be a bit late. What he instead receives is a call from the county jail at almost midnight. 

He begrudgingly picks up, wondering who would be calling him from jail. “Hello this is James Potter-Black speaking.” 

A pause occurs on the line before Regulus, of all people, starts talking. “Hey babe,” he laughs sheepishly, sounding a little drunk. 

James almost laughs himself, if not for his head spinning with thoughts. What could Regulus be in jail for? Why would he be in jail? It was probably due to the influences of Barty and Evan, those motherfuckers. 

“You wanna explain something dear,” he rolls off the bed, slipping into some sweatpants and shirt. Grabbing his keys and wallet, he walks to his car, already driving to the police station. 

“Um, can you come get me?” He sounds nervous, a little embarrassed to be where he is right now. 

James rolls his eyes, “I’m already on my way, love.” 

“Oh thank you,” 

“Mhmm, but do you want to tell me why you're in there?” He flicks on his blinker as he makes a turn, waiting to hear Regulus’ voice through the speakers. 

“I’ll explain when you get here, ok? And do you mind bailing Evan and Barty out too?” 

James sighs, because of course they were all in jail too. “Whatever you want, baby; just you better have a real good explanation as to why you're for one, in jail, and two, in jail.”

“I do. I think.” 

“I’ll see you soon love, please don’t get beaten up while you're in there.” 

***

After James pays the fine and gets all three of them out of jail, they pile into his car. In the morning they will come back for Regulus’s. 

“So,” he clears his throat, “any three of you want to explain what the fuck you were doing in jail.” 

Barty and Evan hold their hands up, as if they did nothing wrong. Regulus looks away but starts talking. “I…um…punched someone.” 

James tightens his hands on the steering wheel. “Ok,” he said, and that's not what he thought it was for, “why did you?” 

“There was some guy calling me a…faggot… and some other shit like that.” He carefully avoids James' eyes on him. “He noticed my wedding ring and snorted and said that it was probably a guy that I was married to, and that I was just some…” he sniffles and trails off, visibly distressed and not wanting to repeat what the guy said to him. 

James has to keep himself from swerving off the road when Reg tells him that stuff. He doesn’t want to quite comment on that information yet, so he looks in the rearview mirror and pointedly stares at Barty and Evan, asking that they chime into this lovely conversation. “We just helped Regulus beat the guy up. Truly.” 

He believes that he really does; those guys would do anything for Regulus. They sit in silence the rest of the drive, going to drop Barty and Evan off at their flat. On the way to their own house, James reaches out to grab Regulus’s hand and squeezes his hand. 

“Hey love, Reg,” Regulus looks up at him, remorse etched in face. “I’m not mad at you, I’m not. I’m glad you stood up for yourself.” He smiles at Regulus. “Maybe next time, don’t, ya know, take it to where you're going to jail for it, but I’m not upset about it, I promise love.” 

Regulus nods. “And you don’t have to tell me what the guy said or anything. I don’t really want to know what he said or I might have to go beat the guy up himself,” he laughs, trying to brighten the situation. 

Looking over at Regulus, he still looks a little distraught. “Reg look at me.” Regulus obliges, looking James in the eye. “I love you. I love with all of my heart, and nothing will ever stop me from loving you. Not homophobes, not somebody's words, and not even death will ever stop me from loving you, ok? Nothing. I love you Regulus Potter-Black, and nobody will try to stop me.” 

Regulus nods again, “I know. I love you too, Jamie. Maybe even more than you love me.” He smirks.

James laughs, rubbing Reg’s ring on his fourth finger. “Never. There’s no way.” 

-a.s.

[bri-cheeses]

| Rosekiller microfic | Word count: 496 | A follow up to this microfic |

-

“We’re not dating,” Barty said definitively.

Adriata blinked. “I’m sorry?” she said.

“Evan and I,” Barty said slowly, “are most definitely not dating.”

“Really?” She sounded absolutely flabbergasted, and Barty could not be more confused.

“Um, yes? I’m not sure where you even got that impression in the first place.”

“You’re literally cuddling in front of a fireplace at one in the morning,” she pointed out. “And that’s a common occurrence. It’s not our fault we all assumed you guys were dating.”

“We?” Barty echoed.

Again, that snort from Regulus. Barty cut him a look, and he immediately went back to reading as if to say, “Don’t involve me in this.”

Barty looked back to Adriata as she stared at him, mouth slightly open. “Yes, we. As in the entire castle, Barty.”

“Excuse me?”

“Well, what were we supposed to think?” She exclaimed. “You two smelled each other in Amortentia, you’re always touching in at least one way, and I’m fairly certain that your eyes have turned into hearts by now with how often you look at each other like you’re in love. Assumptions were going to be made, Crouch.”

“Still,” he said skeptically, “that’s a pretty big leap to make.”

Adriata’s mouth fell open and she turned to Regulus, who had given up on pretending to read by this point.

“Is he always like this?” she asked.

Barty looked at him and waited for his reply, feeling relieved to have someone here who was on his side.

Regulus nodded solemnly. “They both are. It’s horrible.”

“Excuse me?” he said again. Were his eyes and ears malfunctioning, or had Reg really just turned on him?

“Barty,” Regulus said, leveling a flat look at him, “I have lived in the same dorm room as you two for six years. Trust me when I say it’s been painful to watch you guys tiptoe around each other.”

“I’m not—I’m not tiptoeing around Evan,” Barty said faintly.

“You are,” Adriata supplied helpfully. Regulus nodded.

A warm puff of air from Evan’s lips caused Barty to look down. The firelight was still casting shadows across his face and his eyelashes fluttered slightly. His parted lips were full and Barty could imagine the exact shade of pink they would be if it were daytime. A curl had fallen across Evan’s face, and Barty brushed it away.

“I don’t like Evan,” he said, but his voice shook slightly.

Another warm exhale. Something fluttered in Barty’s stomach.

“Right,” said Regulus.

The light danced through Evan’s hair.

“I don’t,” Barty insisted, but it was less sure than he’d like it to be.

“Sure,” said Adriata.

Evan’s hand tightened in Barty’s shirt, and the flutter in his stomach turned into the flapping of a thousand wings.

And oh.

Maybe he did like Evan. Maybe he had liked Evan for a while now, even.

“I like Evan?” Barty tried to say, but it came out more as a question.

“Yes,” Adriata stressed as Reg muttered, “Finally.”

-

[bri-cheeses]

Jersey vs. Hoodies - Part 1

| Rosekiller microfic | Word count: 799 | I wrote this a while ago and am finally deciding to post it so be thankful lol |

-

“Is that Potter’s jersey?”

Regulus looks up, startled, as Evan drops his books onto the table between them. The sunlight filtering in through the library window swirls dust motes around, lighting Regulus’s curls as he replies.

“Excuse me?”

“I said,” Evan reiterates, sliding easily into the booth, “is that Potter’s jersey?”

Regulus’s stills.

“No.”

Evan looks at him pointedly. “You sure about that?”

“Yes.”

“It’s a Gryffindor jersey, Reg.”

“What an astute observation. Now if you don’t mind, I’m trying to get work done, so I would appreciate it if you could leave me alone.”

With that, Regulus dips his quill into his ink pot and starts writing again. Evan just stares at him as the scratching of the quill on paper fills the air.

But based on the way Regulus glances up sharply a few moments later, he acutely feels Evan’s gaze on him. And he is not pleased.

“What is it?” His voice is tight and impatient.

“Is that Potter’s jersey?” Evan asks again, somewhat stupidly.

“Is that Barty’s hoodie?” Regulus snaps nastily.

Evan’s face flushes with the humiliation and anger that comes from that simple, incredibly cruel remark. It wouldn’t be as bad if Regulus hadn’t known exactly what he was doing by saying something like that—after all, Evan had filled him in on everything just last week.

Evan stands up with a clenched jaw, beginning to stuff his books into his bag with more force than strictly necessary.

A series of vivid images flashes through his mind as he does so: Barty stumbling into the dorm late one night, slightly drunk after attending a notorious Hufflepuff-style party. Evan looking up and laughing at the state Barty was in. Barty coming closer and telling Evan that he had the prettiest laugh he had ever heard, and Evan swallowing thickly.

Barty’s lips on his, mouths tangling together in a single glorious, catastrophic mistake.

One thing had led to another, and Evan had landed himself in what he privately thought was the worst yet best choice of his life. Being friends with benefits with Barty was terrible, but it was also more than Evan could’ve ever asked for from Barty. So he had taken it.

And now here he was, having stolen Barty’s hoodie, which had been haphazardly thrown onto the floor by his bed—probably by Evan himself, if he’s being honest—and wearing it around just so he can pretend to actually have something of Barty’s.

But the point is, Evan hadn’t told Regulus about all of that just for him to be able to hurt Evan whenever he feels like it.

And so Evan starts to walk away, teeth clenched in anger and face still flushed red. He’s breathing entirely too hard, too—he can feel it, but he had had a terrible day before even coming in here, and he just doesn’t have the effort to calm himself down.

Then, from behind him, he hears Regulus call out, “Evan, wait—”

Evan whirls around to find Regulus looking at him with concern in his eyes. The pity he finds there does nothing to smooth out Evan’s boiling temper.

“That was a shitty thing to say and you know it, and I can leave if I want. And I do,” Evan adds with an air of finality, about to turn back around when Regulus’s voice fills the space between them.

“No, no, you’re right.”

Evan stops.

“I shouldn’t have gone there,” Regulus continues, starting to anxiously twist a strand of hair around his fingers. “It’s just that I get defensive and… well, I say stupid things. But yeah, it—it is James’s jersey.”

Evan just looks at him silently. He’s still mad at Regulus, but… Regulus has wanted this for a long time. And Regulus is one of Evan’s best friends, even if he does say some out of line things sometimes.

“I’m happy for you,” Evan tells him.

Regulus smiles softly, a faint blush making its way to his cheeks.

Evan smiles a little in response and shifts the strap of his bag from where it’s digging into his shoulder. Regulus eyes the action, an unimpressed look appearing on his face.

“You can come sit back down now, you know. If you’re not still mad at me.”

His familiar, slightly sarcastic tone is comforting, and Evan’s anger eases a bit more as he walks towards where Regulus is sitting.

“For the record,” Regulus murmurs as Evan sits down again, “I hope Barty gets his act together soon.”

Evan feels his stomach flip at the mention of Barty, but he can’t deny that it makes him happy that Reg is rooting for them as well.

“Off the record… me too, ” Evan admits.

Then he slowly gets out his books again, and he and Regulus begin to study in companionable silence.

-

(Part 2 is here)

[bri-cheeses]

| May 17th | Prompt: Infuriate | Word Count: 946 | I really think I need to reevaluate what the word “micro” means but oh well | @rosekillermicrofic |

-

“Evan,” Barty said in one big rush, crashing through the door to their dorm, “if you had to rate my kissing skills on a scale of one to ten, what would you give me?”

Evan paused in the middle of closing the bathroom door behind him. His hand still hung on the doorknob as he stared at Barty.

“What?” he said. His hand slid off the doorknob and came to rest awkwardly at his side.

“What would you rate my kissing skills?” It was clear from Barty’s tone that he was very insistent on getting an answer from Evan.

Evan sighed, realizing he wasn’t going to get out of this.

“I don’t know.” He groaned and scrubbed a hand over his face. “I’ve never kissed you before, so I can’t really judge.”

Barty’s face fell, corners of his mouth turning down. Evan hurried to finish his thought. “That being said, other people seem to like kissing you well enough—” maybe too well, he thought bitterly— “so I’d give you… an eight, maybe?”

Barty looked taken aback.

“An eight?” he said incredulously. “And what would you rate yourself?”

“Merlin, Bee, I don’t know,” Evan groaned again. “Something like… an eight and a half?”

“Oh, no. That won’t do. That won’t do at all,” Barty responded. “I’m at least a nine, and I’m not saying you’re bad at kissing, but there’s no way I’m not better than you.”

“How would you know?” countered Evan. “You’ve never experienced one of my kisses.”

And oh, what was he doing? There wasn’t anything but pain waiting for him at the end of this road. He knew that. And yet… he was curious about what Barty’s reaction might be.

Evan looked closely at Barty as he took several steps forward, squinting at Evan. Barty’s eyes traveled down, then back up again, and goodness, had he just checked Evan out?

“That won’t do at all,” Barty repeated. “I really need to prove that I’m the better kisser.

Evan scoffed to distract himself from the pounding of his heart.

“You are not the better kisser,” he said.

“Oh, but I am.” Barty’s smirk caused Evan’s brain to temporarily short-circuit, making it difficult for him to even think about backing up as Barty stepped closer.

“I think,” Barty began, reaching out a hand. Evan followed his gaze downward as Barty began to fiddle with the edge of Evan’s shirt, then continued, “that we should hold a contest, of sorts. Just to see who’s better, of course.”

“Of course,” Evan echoed, still distracted by Barty’s fingers playing with his shirt. He sucked in a breath as Barty’s hand grazed his skin.

Barty looked up at Evan’s face with a mischievous spark in his eyes. Their faces were now barely a hairbreadth apart, and Evan could feel Barty’s breath on his skin as he whispered, “I think you’ll find that I’m much better than a mere nine.”

Evan couldn’t stop himself from blurting, “You gonna do anything to prove it?”

Look—Evan had been waiting for this moment for years, and he wasn’t all too keen on waiting any longer.

“Maybe I will,” Barty said, and slid his hand around to Evan’s back, hand underneath Evan’s shirt as he pulled him in sharply. Evan’s breath hitched, and Barty grinned wolfishly.

A rush of heat spiked in Evan’s chest.

“You, Barty Crouch Jr,” Evan breathed, “infuriate me.”

“Mmm,” murmured Barty, leaning in closer, “is that so?”

“Yes,” Evan stated somewhat distractedly. It would be so easy to tangle his hand in Barty’s hair and pull him down for a kiss.

So that’s exactly what Evan did.

The kiss was messy, both of them trying to prove a point, but it was perfect. Barty’s hands were everywhere—on his waist, gliding across his back, brushing against his cheek. It sent shivers through Evan, and he fisted his other hand in Barty’s shirt. Honestly, he didn’t think he would ever be able to let go.

“Tell me I’m right,” Barty whispered against his lips, and Evan thought that he might just do anything Barty asked if he only kept on kissing him like that.

“You’re right,” Evan gasped. “Definitely higher than a nine.”

He could feel Barty’s answering smirk against his mouth.

“Thought so,” Barty said smugly, then kissed him again. And again.

And again.

“Wait,” Evan gasped some time later, a thought having occurred to him. “I thought this was just to see who the better kisser was?”

He regretted having to stop kissing Barty, but it was a necessary question. He needed to know the answer before he did something he really regretted—such as confessing his stupid crush, for example.

Evan braced himself for the worst, to have his heart torn to shreds and stomped on like so many times before. But Barty just smirked, then said, “I just wanted an excuse to kiss you. It was never about who the better kisser was. Although, I must say that you happen to be somewhere in the nines yourself.”

He grinned again and started to lean back in, but Evan’s mind was reeling.

“Wait,” he said, and Barty immediately froze. “You wanted to kiss me?”

Barty blinked. “Well… yes? I’ve wanted to for a while now, if I’m being totally honest. Why? Is that not okay?”

Evan shook his head vehemently. “No, no, it’s definitely okay. More than okay, really,” he confessed.

Barty smiled in that lovely way of his, where his eyes crinkled around the corners and his face seemed alight with joy.

“Good,” he said, “I had hoped so.”

Then he leaned in for another kiss, and this time, Evan was more than happy to oblige.

-

[bri-cheeses]

Barty grips the edge of the fancy sink, knuckles turning white. He stares at his reflection: eyes wide, hair mussed up, and panic etched onto every one of his features.

He’s at some type of fancy gathering his dad was invited to, and really, Barty’s should’ve known that Evan would’ve been forced by his own family to come, too. He should’ve known that Evan would have to wear a fancy suit, that he would have to look even nicer than usual—and wow, does he look nice.

Barty tightens his grip. This is most definitely not the time or place to have the realization that you have feelings for your best friend—who is, by the way, a guy. But really, now that he thinks about it, this all was inevitable. With a face like that, with a body like that, with an ass like that… well, Barty couldn’t help it, really. Add a suit and the fact that it’s Evan, and Barty was a goner.

How could he have not noticed this all before? The lingering glances, the attention he always paid to Evan’s mouth, how mad he’d get if he hears whispers of Evan hooking up with someone else… it all made sense now, and wow, Barty was in deep, deep shit.

And he still had a party to attend to, too.

[bri-cheeses]

| May 1st | Prompt: Rose | Word Count: 343 | @rosekillermicrofic |

“Evan…” Regulus says hesitantly, eyeing him from across the table, “why do you have a rose in your cup?”

Evan doesn’t respond, instead choosing to continue eating as Regulus studies his glass of water—which does, indeed, have a white rose in it.

After several moments, Evan finally decides to acknowledge Reg’s question.

“I didn’t want it to die, now did I?” he says, shrugging as if it’s normal.

Regulus clearly does not agree with this outlook, narrowing his eyes in suspicion. He’s opening his mouth to say something when Barty comes bounding into the Great Hall with his usual amount of swagger, interrupting Reg before he ever gets the chance to speak.

“Evs, you’ll never guess what I did today in Care of Magical Creatures,” Barty says jovially, sliding onto the space next to Evan. Their legs press together, but Barty makes no effort to move away.

“Hmm…” Evan thinks for bit. “Did you set something on fire?”

Barty grins and grabs a bowl of mashed potatoes, beginning to pile food onto his plate.

“No, but I did set free all of the fire crabs we were going to be studying today. Accidentally, of course.”

“You’re joking!” Evan laughs.

“Nope, I did it when the teacher wasn’t looking. It was hysterical.”

Then he pauses, his gaze finally landing upon the contents of Evan’s cup.

“Aw, Rosie, you kept the rose I gave you!”

His eyes crinkle around the edges as he beams at Evan and nudges him with his leg. It does weird things to Evan stomach, who looks down at his plate and smiles softly.

His gaze is pulled up moments later, however, as Regulus puts two and two together.

“Wait,” he says, “you’re the one who’s been giving Evan roses for this entire week?”

Barty just laughs and puts an arm around Evan, who leans into his solid body easily.

“Well, I wouldn’t want my boyfriend to feel neglected, now would I?” Barty says with a devilish grin.

Reg’s mouth drops open.

“Boyfriend?!” he yelps.

Barty and Evan just laugh.

[bri-cheeses]

| May 12th | Prompt: Kiss | Word Count: 827 | @rosekillermicrofic |

“Barty,” Evan whined, stretching a hand up to where Barty was dangling Evan’s notebook over his head, “give it back!”

Barty grinned and raised the notebook higher. “Why d’you want it so much? Got something in here you don’t want me to see?”

The truth is, Evan did have something in there he didn’t want Barty to see—countless sketches of quick green eyes, a slim nose, a devilish grin, and beautiful brown hair. Which, of course, all came together to form drawings of the boy in front of him, who could open the notebook at any time and see those mortifying doodles.

So, he did one of the things he did best.

“No,” Evan lied. It came out only slightly unconvincing.

“You know what?” Barty’s thoughtful tone of voice caused Evan’s stomach to sink. “I think that you do have something in here you don’t want me to see.”

Evan sucked in a breath. “Barty.” His voice was low and dangerous. “I swear to Merlin, if you don’t give me that notebook right now—”

“Alright, alright, relax,” Barty laughed. Evan had always loved his laugh, but he wouldn’t lie and say that it didn’t make him feel slightly nervous at this specific moment in time.

“I propose a trade,” continued Barty. “You give me something, and I’ll give the notebook back.”

Narrowing his eyes at him, Evan gave Barty an assessing look. It was very likely he was telling the truth and that he really would give Evan’s notebook back, but it was almost as equally likely that he wouldn’t. So Evan considered the risk, weighing both options in his head, then made his decision.

“What would I have to give you in return?” He asked.

Barty’s eyes gleamed.

“You’d have to give me…” he paused, ever the one for dramatics, “….a kiss.”

Evan felt his eyes widen, and he felt the need to check if his ears were working properly. “Sorry?”

“I said, you’d have to give me a kiss.”

“And—” Evan paused, “and why would you want me to give you a kiss?”

Barty’s expression grew more serious. The way he held eye contact with him made Evan blush, a rush of heat warming his face.

“I think you know why,” Barty said. His voice was intense and filled the space between them easily. Evan blushed harder.

“Then I suppose… that I would like that trade.” Evan winced at his words; he sounded like an idiot. But, after all, he was an idiot—just a love-struck one.

Barty’s grin returned and he swayed forward slightly, arm lowering the notebook. “Then what are you waiting for?”

Good question. What was Evan waiting for? Barty was here, right in front of him, and he wanted a kiss from Evan.

So Evan grabbed the collar of Barty’s shirt and tugged him forward, bringing his mouth down to his own.

Barty’s lips were soft and demanding as he stretched out his hands to grab Evan’s waist, then pulled his body towards his own. His strong grip caused an explosion of uninvited butterflies in Evan’s stomach.

Evan reached up a hand and threaded it through Barty’s hair, gasping against his lips. His eyes were closed, but he could feel Barty’s desire in the way that he kissed—hard, explorative, and all-consuming.

Evan could’ve stayed there for hours, but they inevitably broke apart from one another some time later.

But Evan didn’t open his eyes, instead choosing to lean his forehead against Barty’s for several seconds afterwards. He had the worst feeling that this would all turn out to be some cruel joke Barty had decided to play, just to see how things would turn out. Evan was afraid that if he opened his eyes, everything would simply slip away, the way dreams did after waking up in the morning.

“Evan,” Barty whispered. His mouth was still close enough to Evan’s that he could feel him speaking. “Look at me.”

Despite his apprehension, Evan lifted his head and opened his eyes shyly.

Barty’s beautiful face greeted him, his expression wrought with wonder. He looked slightly dazed, too, and Evan realized with no small amount of pleasure that Barty was still clinging to him tightly.

“Bee,” he breathed, looking into Barty’s eyes.

Barty seemed to share the unspoken sentiment and his mouth curved into a soft smile.

“I’ve been waiting ages to do that,” Barty confessed.

Evan mirrored his smile, an intense feeling of joy spreading out from his middle and to the tips of his fingers and toes.

“Me too,” he said. Then he added playfully, “We should do that more often.”

Barty huffed a small laugh and, using his convenient hand placement on Evan’s hips, tugged him forward until their chests were a hairbreadth from touching.

“I think,” he said lowly, lowering his mouth until he was murmuring against Evan’s lips, “that you are correct.”

And then he crashed their lips together once more, clearly eager to start testing Evan’s theory.

[bri-cheeses]

Jerseys vs. Hoodies - Part 3

| Rosekiller microfic | Word count: 662 | Part 2 can be found here |

-

“Merlin, you two are hopeless,” Regulus mutters under his breath.

Evan goes tense and looks over to see Barty’s reaction, but Barty is much too preoccupied with staring at Evan’s torso. It’s slightly unsettling, to be honest.

“Bee?” he prompts. “What are you looking at?”

Barty’s eyes climb up from Evan’s chest to his eyes, causing Evan to shiver.

“You’re wearing my hoodie,” he says.

Evan breathes in sharply.

“Oh,” he manages, then tries his hardest not to stumble over his words as he blurts, “I can take it off if you want. It was just the closest piece of clothing by my bed—” a blatant lie— “and I didn’t look at it before putting it on—” another lie— “and I’m sorry, I’ll take it off right now and—”

Barty’s hand covering his mouth cuts him off before he can start spiraling.

“It looks good on you,” he says, holding eye contact with Evan, who can feel Barty’s heartbeat against his lips. There’s something deeply intimate about the moment, and Evan doesn’t dare break eye contact as Barty slowly lowers his hand and opens his mouth to say something.

“Merlin,” Reg mutters again, because of course, “take the bedroom eyes somewhere far away from me, please.”

Evan immediately wants to scream at him, because that’s the second time today that Reg has ruined one of Evan’s moments with Barty. But the damage has been done, and he can feel the shift in energy before Barty even says anything.

“I mean, we can if Evan wants to.” Barty grins wolfishly up at Evan, eyeing him in a way that’s downright sinful. Evan tries not to feel too disappointed at the change in topic. After all, this is exactly what he had signed up for.

“Not today, Bee,” Evan murmurs as he turns back to his work. It might just be the hardest he’s ever had to try to focus on schoolwork. “I need to finish this essay.”

There’s a beat of silence as Evan scans through his previous work in an effort to resume his earlier train of thought, Barty a tempting distraction to his left. Barty tends to have this effect on him. Especially when he looks at Evan like he wants to drag him to the dorm and not let him come down for a good long while.

“Barty’s feeling neglected, Evan,” Regulus proclaims, breaking the silence.

Evan can’t help it. He looks over to the boy beside him, and sure enough, Barty’s gone back to pouting. Seriously, he needs to stop with this whole “wanting Evan’s attention” thing, or Evan’s going to get the wrong idea.

Evan aims his next words at Regulus, because it’s just easier.

“Tell him to get over it,” he says.

“He says to get over it,” Reg parrots, and Barty glares at him with enough force to make a weaker man wither.

But Regulus just blinks calmly and dips his quill into his ink pot, then writes his name on his essay with a flourish.

“Done,” he pronounces. “Now, I’m going to go get some dinner. Have fun and please don’t burn the library down.”

“Reg, we still have another twenty-ish minutes until dinner starts,” Barty points out, very obviously ignoring that last barb.

“He’s going to see Potter,” Evan stage-whispers. Barty snickers as Regulus’s face goes red.

“You know,” Regulus begins, narrowing his eyes at them, “before you said that I almost felt bad about leaving the two of you here alone together, considering everything going on between you, but now I’m actually pretty interested to see how this all plays out. Have fun dancing around each other like always,” he finishes, gathering his stuff.

Barty and Evan are both stunned into silence as Reg stands up and begins to walk away.

Only Barty recovers in time to call after him as he leaves, “Nice jersey, Reg,” and Evan groans because now is most definitely not the time.

Regulus simply gives them the finger in response, then disappears around the corner.

-

(Part 4 will be coming out on Saturday)

[bri-cheeses]

“Have you ever been in love?”

The question seems to take Evan by surprise. “What?”

Barty repeats the question, shifting up into a sitting position. His hands dig into the ground, still damp from last night’s rain. “Have you ever been in love?”

There’s a beat of silence. Then, looking down at his feet, Evan quietly answers, “Yes.”

Suddenly, Barty is mad at himself for asking. He can’t even say why he asked in the first place; he simply had the thought, and being the impulsive person he is, he asked without thinking. Now he wishes he hadn’t, if only to have avoided this odd burning in his chest caused by Evan’s answer. And really, he should drop the topic, based on downcast tint to Evan’s response, but he can’t seem to let it go. So instead, he presses the issue.

“When?” he asks, looking intently at Evan.

At that, Evan looks to his left, purposely avoiding eye contact with Barty. He stubs out his cigarette on the grass next to him, a thin curl of smoke rising up from it as he does so. “A long, long time ago.” His voice is dark with something Barty can’t name.

“Did it end well?”

Evan cuts him a look. “Who said it ended?”

At his words, something twists inside Barty. Suddenly there’s a lump in his throat as he works to get out his next sentence. “Well, you said a long time ago. So I thought that it was a, uh, past thing.”

“Yeah. It was a long time ago. When I… fell in love.”

Barty knows he’s the one who started this conversation, but he really hates the way Evan says love in reference to some mystery person. At least he used past tense, though, meaning it’s a thing of the past.

“So what happened?” Barty questions.

“They didn’t want me in the way I wanted them. Still don’t want me that way.” There’s something bitter in Evan’s tone, and he’s gone back to refusing to look at Barty. In contrast, Barty stares at him intently. He feels as though he’ll be able to see through Evan’s exterior and into his insides, where all his secrets are hidden, if he only looks hard enough.

“Who was it?”

“Does it matter?” Evan’s voice is biting as he sharply turns his head back towards Barty.

“Yes. No. I don’t know.” Barty leans back onto his elbows, tearing his gaze from Evan. It’s almost comical how their positions have changed; now, Evan stares at Barty, and Barty looks out over the lake in an effort to avoid his gaze.

“It was no one important, okay?”

“Oh.” Something settles in Barty when he hears that, even if Evan’s tone contrasts with his dismissive words. “They were—still are—an idiot, though. Just for the record.”

Evan laughs in that disbelieving way of his, as if he’s sharing an inside joke with himself. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Barty says definitively. “I mean, you’re perfect. And whoever can’t see that is an idiot.”

“Perfect?”

“Yup.” Barty means it, too.

“Yeah, well,” Evan scoffs, “it isn’t good enough for them. So it doesn’t matter.”

“Well, you’re good enough for me,” Barty says hotly. “So don’t worry about that asshole. Because and me? We’re best friends, and you’ll always be good enough for me. You know that, right?”

Evan is avoiding Barty’s gaze again. He picks at the grass next to him, focusing on that instead. “Right,” he says somewhat bitterly.

“I mean it,” Barty insists. “You are.”

Evan looks at him, smiling sadly. “Thanks, Bee. But it’s getting cold. I think I’ll head back inside if that’s all right with you.”

“I—okay. Yeah, uh, sure.”

With that, Evan gets up and begins the walk back to the castle. Barty watches him go, thinking their entire exchange over.

He’s not entirely sure where the conversation went sour enough to get Evan to leave, but clearly something must’ve caused his abrupt departure. Even if Barty had thought he had said the right things to get Evan to cheer up again. He had meant what he said, too; Evan always would be good enough for him. Barty honestly couldn’t imagine a better best friend.

So Evan shouldn’t, Barty thinks heatedly, have ever been hung up on some asshole who couldn’t even see how amazing he is.

Barty continues to sit there, close to the shore of the lake, and watches Evan’s retreating form. And as he watches Evan reach up to wipe at his eyes, trying and failing to act like it was nonchalant gesture, he resolves to find out who Evan was talking about. And he’s going to make them, whoever it may be, pay for how they hurt Barty’s best friend.

[bri-cheeses]

Evan’s busy reaching across the bar for a couple of drinks, arm outstretched and easy smile on his face, when Regulus walks up next to him.

“Two butterbeers, please,” Regulus nods to the bartender.

Evan turns his head in surprise, clearly not expecting to have been followed. “I was getting you guys drinks, you know. You didn’t have to get up.”

“Yeah, I know. But I needed a bit of a break from all… that.” Regulus tilts his head towards a booth in the corner, indicating the chaos currently taking place there. He’s just escaped the aftermath of Barty attempting to flirt with Remus just to make Sirius mad, which has not ended well. Just like Barty intended. Honestly, Regulus doesn’t know why he puts up with him.

Regulus opens his mouth to continue, feeling somewhat hesitant. He’s not sure how Evan will react to what he’s about say, but he’s going to try anyways. “And also because I wanted to ask you something in private. Or at least, away from them.”

“Hold on,” Evan replies. The bartender’s just handed him his drinks, and he’s trying to find a way to carry them. “Okay, carry on.”

Regulus doesn’t waste any time. “You’re in love with Barty.”

Evan doesn’t look up from the drinks, not giving Regulus’s accusation even a slight reaction. “That wasn’t much of a question, Reg.”

If Regulus didn’t know better, he’d say Evan was completely unbothered by this whole situation. But he does know better, and Evan’s completely straight face as he fiddles with the glasses is a dead giveaway.

“You’re not going to deny it?” He’s genuinely curious. It’s unlike Evan to not, at the very least, try to avoid answering directly.

“Why would I? It’s the truth, and I know you’re not going to tell him.”

“But you’re not really the type of person to be okay with… sharing this sort of thing.”

Evan looks up now, small smile making its way to his face. “No, I’m usually not. But honestly it’s been going on so long that it’s more trouble than it’s worth to keep it hidden. From you, at least.”

“I—” he pauses, not entirely sure what to do with that. “How long has this been a thing?”

“Oh, about…” Evan squints, as if he can look back in time and pinpoint the exact moment it started. “Five years now?”

“Five years?”

“Don’t sound so surprised, Reg.”

“Why shouldn’t I?”

“Because it’s really not that out of character for me.”

Evan flashes another smile and makes to leave, but Regulus blurts out, “Why haven’t you done anything about it? If it’s been so long?”

Evan glances over at their booth. Regulus follows his gaze, where Barty is now gesturing wildly with his hands in what is probably an attempt to avoid death at Sirius’s hands.

“Because,” Evan says, still looking at Barty, “it would ruin our relationship.”

He sounds so resigned to the fact that Regulus’s heart clenches. He feels like a bad friend. He had no idea, absolutely none, that Evan had been feeling this way for such a long time. “You can’t know that.”

Evan looks back at him, amused expression on his face as he asks, “Can’t I? It’s Barty; even if he did feel the same way—which he doesn’t—he would never be able to let himself commit to a relationship. The fear and discomfort would eat him alive. You know that.”

Regulus does, in fact, know that. But it doesn’t stop him from wanting to fix this, somehow. From wanting to try to get Evan to fight for a chance, at the very least. “But you’re Evan. There used to be be bets about when you guys would finally sort out your shit and start going out.”

Evan blinks, clearly not having known that.

“And it wasn’t because people knew you were in love with him—hell, I didn’t even know that—it was because of the way you both look at and act around each other. And I know that you’re too smart to have not noticed any of that, Evan.”

“Well. Maybe. But that’s also just who he is. He looks at practically everyone like that, acts like that with everyone. So you can stand there and tell me that I’m special, but I’m always going to see that for what it is. A lie, Regulus. And I don’t need you to lie to me. This whole thing is already bad enough already, I don’t need you adding to it, too.”

“But—”

“Don’t, Regulus. Just don’t.”

Regulus changes tactics. “How can you stand it?”

Evan gives a sad smile. “Like you said; I’m Evan. I’m always going to be in love with him, no matter what he does, really. And he’s Barty, so he’s going to do a lot of shit. But that’s just the way things are, I suppose.”

“So you’re just going to let him shatter your heart and stomp all over it?”

Evan smiles bitterly. “He’s been doing that for years, Reg. You’re a bit late to the game.”

Regulus hates this, hates Evan’s defeated tone and tired eyes. “How are you just so calm about this? Don’t you hate it?”

Evan considers that. “I did, for a while. I spent a long, long time hating it. But it only cost me energy I couldn’t afford to lose, and it didn’t change anything in the end.”

And there’s not a lot Regulus can say in response to that, so instead he eyes Evan: the regretful smile, the sad slump of his shoulders, and the way his body is subconsciously turned towards Barty, even now. “Are you… going to be okay?”

“Of course, Reg, why would you even ask?” He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “This is just the hand life has dealt me. I’m used to it by now. You might as well get used to it, too. Nothing’s going to change between Barty and me.”

And with that, he shoulders past Regulus, drinks in hand. And Regulus watches him go, unable to unsee how painfully in love Evan is. He watches the way Barty’s entire face lights up when he sees Evan, he watches the soft smile Evan gives Barty in return, and he prays to anyone who’s listening that Evan will turn out to be wrong.

[bri-cheeses]

Jerseys vs. Hoodies - Part 5

| Rosekiller microfic | Word count: 971 | Part 4 is here |

-

Evan breathes in deeply. “Bee…” he says slowly, “I should probably tell you something first.”

Barty looks confused at the shift in tone, but he sits up straighter in order to listen anyways.

“Okay,” he says, and Evan’s never been more terrified in his life.

His next words come out shaky. “We’ll always be friends, right? No matter what happens?”

Barty frowns. “Of course. But Evs, what’s going on? Is everything okay?”

His concern is enough to cause Evan to close his eyes as if he can block out all the bad by the performing the simple gesture. But when he opens them again, the fear and apprehension is still there.

“No,” he says, and it’s the most truthful thing he’s said in a while. “Bee, d’you know when you came to me that first night, and you kissed me, and I kissed you back without hesitation? Do you remember that?”

“…yeah?” Barty says slowly.

“Do you ever wonder why I didn’t question it, never even took a second to ask you why you were doing it?”

He doesn’t give Barty a chance to answer, staring at the table instead of looking at Barty as he continues, “It was because I didn’t want you to stop. I just wanted you to keep kissing me, no matter the cost, no matter your reasons behind it. For that minute I let myself enjoy kissing you, the feeling of having you kiss me, because I had wanted it for so long. And yeah, it hurt afterwards when you said that it didn’t mean anything. But I said “fine” and “okay” because that’s more than I ever thought I would get from you, and I was thankful for that tiny little scrap even if it “didn’t mean anything.” And then you came back, and again I took the scraps. And again, and again, until we had this little arrangement and I wasn’t worried anymore that every time we ever did something, it would be the last time.”

Tears are starting to blur his vision, and he refuses to look over at Barty, who remains silent.

He chokes out the next sentence. “But it hurt every time you reminded me it meant nothing, until eventually I couldn’t keep all of this to myself. So I told Pandora about it. And that helped a little, but soon after Reg started to get suspicious and confronted me about it, and I was so incredibly tired and I told him just about everything. So yeah, he knows, and yeah, that’s what he meant when he said “everything going on” between us. Which I guess makes it a low blow, but,” he laughs humorlessly, “nothing lower than I’ve been dealing with recently.”

He doesn’t look at Barty. He can’t look at Barty, can’t bear to see his expression as silence fills the space in between them.

“Evan,” Barty says, and that’s when Evan knows it’s going to be bad. Not “Evs” or “Evie” or even “Rosie.” Just “Evan.”

He tries not to let the tears fall, but it’s a struggle as he simultaneously tries to keep Barty from noticing his watery eyes.

“Evan,” Barty says again, “look at me.”

“No.”

“Evs,” Barty pleads.

Evs, Evan thinks. He said “Evs.” Not “Evan.”

So Evan turns towards Barty. He wipes his eyes in an effort to get rid of any traces of his tears, but it’s evident that he didn’t do a good enough job as Barty’s face softens as soon as he takes him in.

“I’m so sorry, Evie,” Barty says, reaching out a hand and pulling Evan into his chest.

It’s a nice gesture, so sweet that Evan can’t stop himself from collapsing into Barty, despite the fact that he knows Barty’s just trying to soften the blow that’s bound to come.

Here comes the rejection, Evan thinks, but still clutches on all the tighter to Barty’s sweatshirt. Maybe if he can hold on tight enough, Barty won’t go.

“I’m so, so sorry I made you feel that way,” Barty whispers, and his hand makes its way to Evan’s head and winds into his hair. Evan closes his eyes tightly, wanting to stay here in this moment before everything comes crashing down around him.

“I never meant to do that to you,” Barty continues. “That was never my intention at all.”

He pauses, as if contemplating whether or not to say something.

“Do you know why I kissed you in the first place?” he asks. Unlike Evan, he waits for a response.

“No,” Evan mumbles against Barty’s torso.

“Well, I don’t know if you remember, but I was slightly tipsy.”

Evan remembers. Of course he does.

“I saw you sitting there on your bed, and thought, “Merlin, he’s so beautiful.” And you wanna know something? It wasn’t the first time that I had had that thought. Not even close. I just hadn’t acted on it, because… well, you’re my best friend, and I didn’t want to mess that up. But I guess the alcohol had gone straight to my brain, because I couldn’t stop myself from walking up to you and simply kissing you.”

“And I’m not proud of what I did afterwards, when I finally started thinking clearly again and panicked about you hating me because of what I had done. I told you that it didn’t have to mean anything. And if I could somehow go back in time and take that back, I’d do it in a heartbeat, consequences be damned. Because I really had wanted it to mean something. I still want it to mean something. I just didn’t think that you would want the same thing, so I never said anything.”

“But,” he says softly, his hand sliding out of Evan’s hair to cup his face and turn his gaze upward, “I’m saying something now.”

-

(The sixth and final part will come out sometime this week) (Hopefully)

[bri-cheeses]

| Rosekiller microfic | Word count: 875 | @thingthatoncewastruee this is dedicated to you because of this old post of mine | Oh also this is a ✨part one✨ |

-

The light from the crackling fireplace spilled out into the common room, casting a warm glow to the dark wood and green furniture that made up the Slytherin common room. Save for two figures sprawled out on the couch and one curled up in an armchair with a book, the room was empty of life, the pop and hiss of logs the only sound present.

Except, of course, the turning of pages coming from Regulus Black, and the soft breaths of Evan Rosier as he lay upon Barty Crouch Jr.

Barty should be doing something. Regulus was reading some book that was undoubtedly full of hopelessly confusing metaphors, and Evan was sleeping. But Barty was simply watching Evan as he rested, observing Evan’s chest rise and fall with each deep breath.

Barty noted the way the fire lit up strands of Evan’s blond hair and danced across one side of his face, playing tricks as it highlighted his friend’s cheekbones. Evan’s mouth was parted slightly, and warm puffs of breath ghosted across Barty’s sternum each time he breathed out. There was something enchanting about it, about the way Evan’s arms wrapped around his torso, his body fitting perfectly against Barty’s own as they lay there, entwined with one another.

Barty should be doing something other than creepily staring at his best friend, but Regulus wasn’t paying attention, and Barty was having a hard time pulling his gaze away from the boy sprawled across him.

He had a hard time looking away even as the door to the common room opened, causing a flood of light to come spilling in.

“Crap,” he heard a girl mutter under her breath as the sound of falling books resonated throughout the room. There was a sigh, then the sound of books being stacked upon each other once more.

Footsteps echoed on the wood floor as the girl moved about the room, coming closer towards the fireplace. Finally, Barty was able to see who the intruder was: Adriata Fawley, a sixth-year Slytherin who Barty was on friendly enough terms with.

A sudden thought struck him as she made her way to the right of the fireplace, where the staircase to the girls’ dorms was. Really, this was a conversation he should probably be sitting up for, but he couldn’t bring himself to disturb Evan.

“Adriata,” he called out quietly, trying hard not to wake Evan.

He stirred but did not wake as Adriata turned around, books still in hand, and said, “What is it?”

Almost immediately after finishing her question, she yawned widely, a hand coming up to cover her mouth. A sense of guilt washed over Barty—after all, it was late, and she probably just wanted to go to bed. But she was the perfect solution to his current dilemma, and Barty had already stopped her on her way up, so all he could do was finish his request.

“You know the Yule Ball, right?”

She nodded slowly, and Barty continued even as Regulus finally looked up from his book. He tried not to let his friend’s curious gaze get to him as he explained, “Well, I still need someone to go with, and I thought it’d be fun to go with you, if you wanted.”

The corners of Adriata’s mouth turned down, and Barty rushed to continue.

“Just as friends,” he added, desperately hoping she wouldn’t get the wrong impression and get scared off.

“Well,” Adriata said slowly, “I’d love to, but—” her eyes flicked over Evan’s sleeping form— “is Evan not available for some reason?”

Barty furrowed his brow. What was that supposed to mean? Did Adriata think that Evan was somehow going to interfere with the ball? Unless…

A low sinking feeling started to form in Barty’s gut. Had Evan asked Adriata to go to the Yule Ball with him? Was Evan going to go to the ball with Adriata?

Barty couldn’t stop himself from imaging Evan in a perfectly-cut suit with Adriata on his arm. Them laughing together. Getting food together. Dancing together. All while Barty watched from the sidelines.

He didn’t know why he cared this much. He was friendly with Adriata, sure, but that didn’t mean he had a crush on her or anything. But the thought of her going to the ball with Evan caused a sour taste to fill his mouth nonetheless.

Barty glanced back down at Evan’s sleeping face, and his voice tightened into a bitter tone as he responded, “No, why? Did he ask you to—to go with him, or something?”

“Huh? No,” Adriata shook her head, looking beyond confused. “No, nothing like that. I had just assumed that, well… you two would be going together, that’s all. Considering the fact that you’re, uh, you know. Dating.”

“What?” Barty squawked. Evan shifted slightly at the loud noise, and Barty immediately berated himself. He was only vaguely aware of a snort of laughter from Regulus’s direction as his mind scrambled to untangle Adriata’s words.

Dating? Him and Evan?

His gaze roved over Evan’s form once more, the way Evan’s head was tucked against Barty’s chest and their legs were twined together.

Dating, Barty thought incredulously as Evan nestled further into Barty’s torso, where had she even gotten that idea?

-

(Part two)

[bri-cheeses]

| Rosekiller microfic | Word count: 629 |

-

“Is this your shirt?”

Barty looked up as Regulus’ confused tone filled the space between them, turning off his phone as Regulus pinched a tee between his thumb and forefinger and held it up to the light. It was a light cream color that Barty could admit would look extremely out of place in his closet, an odd bright spot against his band tees and general dark ensemble of clothes.

“No, it’s Evan’s,” he said breezily. Never mind the fact that it was in his apartment, despite Evan living… not in Barty’s apartment.

Regulus let the shirt drop to the floor and wrinkled his nose. “Then what’s it doing in here?”

He tucked his legs up, sitting sideways against the back of the couch, and tilted his head at Barty.

“Oh, you know—” Barty unlocked his phone and went back to scrolling— “he just leaves things here sometimes.”

“Like his shirt?” Regulus asked skeptically.

“Well, he does have other clothes here.” A bit of an understatement, considering Barty had an entire drawer dedicated to Evan’s clothes alone, but Reg didn’t need to know that. “So it’s not like he was just walking around shirtless.”

Not that Barty would complain about seeing that, though.

“Ignoring the fact that you two are entirely too codependent, what were you even doing in the first place that caused his shirt to be left on your floor?”

Barty doubted Regulus really wanted to know the answer to that. He raised one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug, still looking at his phone. “Things happen.”

“Things?”

Barty flicked an unimpressed gaze up at Regulus, who was staring at him with furrowed eyebrows. If Regulus truly hadn’t figured it out by now, Barty wasn’t going to help him.

“Yeah, things. Showering, spilling something on your shirt… do us a favor and pick whichever puts your mind at ease.”

Regulus sighed. “Why’re you being so vague?”

“Why’re you being so nosy?”

Barty swore that Regulus actually rolled his eyes.

“Can you just spare me the dramatics and tell me why Evan’s shirt is currently lying on the floor by your couch?”

Regulus was staring him down now, clearly intent on getting an answer. Barty didn’t particularly feel like giving it, but he supposed it would be easier in the long run to tell him now instead of getting hounded about it for the rest of today.

So Barty held eye contact with Regulus as he flatly replied, “It was getting too hot in here.”

Well, no one could accuse him of lying, at the very least.

“And why couldn’t you have just said that in the first place?”

Barty simply sighed and went back to his phone.

“Because it’s not necessarily your business what Evan and I get up to when you’re not around.” If only Regulus knew how true that really was.

“I suppose that’s fine, considering I’m not entirely sure that I even want to know. Unless the police are involved and I need to pay your bail. But also… he has clothes at your place?”

Barty didn’t see how Regulus hadn’t put the pieces together yet. It’s not like him and Evan were actively trying to hide it or anything. What’s more, Regulus was a pretty smart guy who should’ve realized what was going on between his two friends ages ago. Barty just figured that James’s general obliviousness must’ve been rubbing off on Regulus.

“Yes, he does. Why, are you jealous? I can get you a drawer too, if you want,” he offered.

Regulus looked around the room, unimpressed.

“I’m good, actually,” he said. “What I was getting at is that you and Evan are way too close of friends to be healthy.”

Barty just smirked at his phone.

That was certainly one way of putting it.

-