I imagine they bonded over art and literature. They'd trade books constantly, always leaving little annotations until even they didn't know who's book was who's

They'd rave to each other about their respective crushes (barty and james)

wc: 255

{TW, slight gore. But barely. Also a cuss word}

Barty sat in the safe house, nimble fingers rolling the eyeball Evan had given him back and forth between his thumb and forefinger. Over the past week, he had lost too much. He had lost Evan, his other half, his soul, his voice of reason, the only person that would ever be for him in the history of ever. Barty was feeling manic enough as it is, and he had ditched the BPD meds all together. He wouldn’t be alive for much longer, he knew. But he had to stay alive for Regulus. Had to keep him safe.

He read the daily prophet, looking for where the ministry might be before he saw it

“THE HEIR OF THE MOST ANCIENT AND NOBLE HOUSE OF BLACK HAS BEEN PRONOUNCED DEAD”

Barty must have read it over and over again. He was having hallucinations. He had to be! Maybe he had finally broke and was seeing things, right, RIGHT?!?

But no. The more he read it, the more true it became. He read it again, and broke into maniacle laughter.

He was alone. 

Completely and utterly alone.

Evan: Dead.

Dorcas: Dead.

Regulus: DEAD.

Dead

Dead

Dead

Dead

Dead

Dead

Dead

Dead

Dead

Dead

Dead

Dead

Dead

Dead

Dead

Dead

Dead

Dead

Dead

Dead

Dead

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Dead

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Dead

Dead

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Dead

Dead

Dead

All of them were DEAD and Barty couldn’t do a damn fucking THING about it.

He slammed his head against the table, letting out a gutteral scream.