Real Sweet (But I Wish You Were Sober)
Barty POV, Rosekiller, TW: Alcoholism, idk what else- Pt 1 probably
It's a crowded party, filled with younger students drinking for the sake of conformity and older years drinking to get drunk.
Barty is the second type.
He stumbled toward an empty chair in the corner of the room, allowing him a perfect view of the Slytherin common room and its contents. He doesn't even notice when someone sits down beside him until he feels their lips on his neck.
Instinctively, he jerks back. However, thanks to his drunken state, Barty misjudges just how much force is necessary and accidentally ends up on his back on the floor boards. To make matters worse, his ankle hooked around his companion's waist and brought them crashing down on top of him.
It's a boy, Barty sees now, with golden-blonde hair and bright hazel eyes.
The other boy is resting above Barty, peering down at him curiously. Circe, Barty thinks, he must be pissed. That is when Evan decides to shoot his shot for the second time, aiming for Barty's lips.
The thing is, as much as Barty wants this, Evan would never forgive him. Sober Evan, that is. Evan who has a pureblood girlfriend and a tendency to cry whenever Barty brings it up.
'It' being the fact that at every potential opportunity, Evan finds a way to get to the level of drunk that alcoholic's envy and makes an attempt to snog his best friend.
Sure, Barty indulged him the first few times. It was selfish, he knows that, to take advantage of his friend in moments of weakness. But can you really blame him? Barty had been falling for Evan since he first saw him on the Hogwarts Express when they were eleven.
Now, they are sixteen, drunk and accustomed to the pain.
Barty turns his head and Evan's lips collide with his cheek. Evan pulls back, looking at Barty with wide, almost mournful eyes.
"Rosie?" Evan smiles, remembering his fondness for the nickname despite the alcohol's effects. "We can't do that, okay?" Evan nods hesitantly but he's still peering down at Barty with piercing hazel eyes.
"Yeah, alright." Barty mutters. He does his best to manoeuvre out from under Evan without alerting the boy he's trying to do so. When Barty finally manages it, Evan's eyes have glassed over and, in truth, he looks quite sweet, if a little vacant.
While hating to shatter the image, Barty hoists him up from the wooden floor. Evan looks mildly disgruntled but he leans into Barty just as easily. He's smaller, just by a few centimetres and so much lighter. Barty can smell his shampoo.
Barty supports him all the way up the stairs and to their room. The curtains are drawn around Regulus' bed when they make it. For good measure, Barty casts a fresh silencing charm around him.
Instantly, Evan collapses onto Barty's bed, it being closest to the door. He curls in on himself and is asleep in what seems like seconds. Barty sighs, he's going to have to levitate him into his own bed in a minute.
Or just carry him. An unhelpful voice supplies.
Yeah! A fireman lift! Like in those muggle movies! Another joins in.
Barty rolls his eyes. "Fuck no." He whispers, turning for the bathroom. He strips off his shirt, well technically Evan's shirt, and turns on the sink to brush his teeth.
His gaze snags on the rose tattoo on his forearm, then the letters across his knuckles. Rosie.
Regulus had told him then, Most people don't get more than one tattoo for their best friend, if any. Barty brushed him off. I'm not most people, Reg.
Barty turns the tap off and heads back to where Evan lays. He hasn't moved an inch.
Do it, Crouch! The same voice says. Lift him!
If a voice can shrug, this one does just that. Wing it.
Barty cursed under his breath. Still, the idea had some merit. A slight indulgence, but an indulgence all the same. It wouldn't really be all that different from supporting Evan as they walked up here, would it? Just a different kind of support.
Evan didn't stir as Barty swung two arms under him, nor while Barty carried him, in a fireman's lift as requested, to his own bed on the other side of the room. Not even when he landed, with a thump, on the top of the covers.
He didn't curl in on himself again. Instead Evan lay just as Barty had left him, on his side with one hand curled beside his face. A single strand of dark blonde hair fell into his face. Without thinking, Barty reached and tucked the imperfection behind Evan's ear.
This, of course, did wake his best friend up.
Evan fell onto his back, looking up at Barty. "Were you- were you watching me sleep? And where's your shirt?"
Barty felt the flush in his cheeks. "Why? Do you want me to watch you sleep?" Evan huffed a laugh. If he noticed Barty avoided the second question, he didn't say anything. "I'll see you in the morning." He turned his back on Evan who made a noncommittal noise.
Barty draws the curtains around Evan's bed with a flick of his wand and wanders over to his own.
Barty draws his own curtains, buries his head in his hands and doesn't emerge until late that next day.
