Regulusâ heart breaks as he stands there, just behind the willow tree, watching James and Sirius roll around on the grass, play fighting in their own little world.
Of course he left him. Of course James would pick Sirius over Regulus, wouldnât everyone? Regulus has never been picked first. Not once.
Not by his parents, who ignored him throughout his entire childhood to focus on framing Sirius as the perfect son and heir.
Not by Sirius, who ran away, picking James to be his brother and not bothering to ask Regulus to tag along.
Not in team games, where students would pick through the class one by one, and Regulus would be one of the last few standing.
Not by his friends, who all would chose their partners, or the other people in the group first. He joined last, itâs only fair.
Not even by the lizard who inhabits his dorm room, who picks the three other boys to crawl over to first, every time.
And certainly not by James.
He thought, for once, the cycle might be broken. He thought, for once, someone would pick him first. Heâd get chosen over someone else, just once.
He should have known better.
He should have known that the moment Sirius found out about he and James sneaking around in dark corridors and whispering sweet words to each other, James would have to pick.
He was foolish to think James would pick him over Sirius. He was foolish to think that James would pick him over anyone.
And as Lily, with her fiery red hair pulled back into braids, comes marching over to the boys, snatching James up by his collar and earning herself a cheek kiss, Regulus realises he should have seen that coming too.
Not even two weeks has passed since Regulus placed second to his brother, as he does in fucking everything, and James has already moved on.
Regulus would never be anyoneâs first choice, he should have known better.
He knows better now.
Itâs not until three months later that Regulus finally shatters from it. The crushing weight of never being enough, never being someoneâs first choice.
Itâs Slytherin against Ravenclaw for the quidditch cup, and there in the crowd, he spots his brother and James.
Theyâre decked out in silver and blue, and they donât look at Regulus, not even once.
Barty finds him in the showers, once the entire teams cleared out. Heâs dressed in a confusing mix of blue and green, for his own house and his friends.
Hes crying. Regulus doesnât think heâs ever cried this hard before. The water is pouring down over his head, and heâs still fully dressed in his uniform.
Slytherin lost. He lost them the match, because he was more focused on trying to catch James or Sirius looking his way just once than getting the snitch. They didnât, and he lost.
Barty clearly doesnât know how to handle this. The lowest heâs ever seen Regulus would have been prior to an exam he stressed himself out about. Besides, Barty has always been a little awkward when handling emotions.
Regulus tries to tell him to leave him be, he really does. But his words get all chocked up in his throat and he canât get out much more than a wail or a sob. It fucking hurts.
âWhatâs the matter, Black?â Barty asks, switching the water off before crouching down in front of him, âWhatâs got your knickers in a twist, hey?â
âI-Iâll never be⊠good enough.â Regulus confesses. Heâs never said it out loud before. Heâs not a vulnerable person, he doesnât do this. He knows better than to let out his sob story to someone, they can hold it over him one day. But he canât help himself, he finds. He needs to get it off his chest before it rips him open, âIâll never⊠b-be enough.â
Bartyâs silent for a while, clearly unsure of what to say. It only makes Regulus sob more. He pulls his knees up to his chest and hides his head in his hand, and he fucking cries. Heâs sure if anyoneâs still out side, theyâd hear it, but Barty locked the door when he came in. At least thatâs something.
âI can never be enough.â Regulus sobs again, and this time Barty kicks into action.
Heâs still awkward about it, Regulus can tell, he probably has better things to do than listen to Regulus cry as well, which only makes this worse. He pushes Regulusâ sopping hair out of his face and pats his face dry with the end of his Slytherin scarf before hauling them both to their feet.
âWho told ya that?â Barty asks, pulling his wand out to try his hand at a drying spell. It mostly works, so Regulus canât complain.
âI donât have to be told something to know it, Barty.â Regulus sniffles, wiping his eyes. They sting, and he knows he looks terrible, but thereâs no use in worrying about that now.
âWell⊠I think, if you havenât been told, it canât be true.â Barty shrugs, tucking his wand back in his pocket.
âFine.â Regulus nods, âMy entire fucking family has told me then, on several occasions.â
âOh.â Barty stills, and he has a look on his face of utter confusion.
Regulus shakes his head and goes to walk for the door, but he winces when he puts pressure on his ankle. He fell on it weirdly, midway through the match when he was knocked off his broom. It didnât bother him before, but it does now.
âYou hurt?â Barty asks, and Regulus nods.
Silently, Barty reaches out and wraps his arm around Regulusâ waist. He flinches at first, startled by the slightly intimate touch, but then Barty pulls Regulus to shift his weight, and he relaxes into it a little. Together, they walk back across the field, Barty carrying Regulusâ broom, and half of Regulusâ weight, and make their way back to the castle.
Itâs oddly silent.
Itâs always quiet, between them. Regulus isnât much of a talker, and when Barty runs out of stupid things to say he goes quiet and people watches. He usually watches Regulus, since theyâre always together, something that took a while to get used to. Barty really likes to watch Regulus read, it makes him a little self conscious of any strange expressions he might be making.
But itâs a strange sort of quiet now. Itâs silent. Regulus isnât talking, not because he doesnât want to, but because he feels ashamed for breaking down like that. He doesnât just break down. Men donât fucking break down. Especially not in front of people like that. He feels embarrassed that Barty found him.
Well, heâs grateful it was Barty over anyone else, seeing as though theyâre supposed to be close friends, Merlin forbid Sirius found him. But itâs still uncomfortable.
The only friend any of them have that likes to talk about feelings is Pandora. Regulus assumed this was because she was a girl, at first, however, Dorcas doesnât like talking about them either. Pandoras just strange like that, she cares about people in odd ways. Sometimes itâs nice, but mostly itâs terrifying.
Barty looks like he wants to talk. He also looks like he wants to watch Regulus, but every time he turns his head to do so he probably sees the red rimming of Regulusâ eyes and finds something much uglier than usual. It only makes Regulus feel all the more ashamed.
Barty starts whistling. Itâs not his regular noise filling whistles either, itâs his uncomfortable whistling. He doesnât want to be here, Regulus can tell. Merlin, he needs to get away.
âGoing back to your dorm?â Barty asks as they round a corridor in the castle.
Regulus nods, âIs Evan-â
âHeâs there.â Barty says, âCas too⊠dunno about Dora, sheâs always off with the fairies. If sheâs not hugging Dorcas about their loss then I dunno where she is.â
Regulus goes tense, âI donât want them to see me.â
Barty stops and swallows, âOkay⊠how about my dorm then? My roommates are all down by the lake. They snagged some firewhisky.â
âOkay.â Regulus agrees, because he has no where else to go.
Once settled in Bartyâs dorm, Regulus changes into more comfortable clothes. Plaid pyjama pants and a green knitted sweater he knows is his own that went âmissingâ last year. He doesnât question it, Bartyâs strange like that. He likes to collect things, and especially Regulusâ things.
Theyâre both sitting on his bed, Regulus tucked up under the covers and Barty sitting on the other end. Heâs flipping through one of his dorm mates magazines and whistling to himself, his regular whistling again. It calms Regulus a bit.
Lying there, stuck with his own thoughts, he canât hide from the images that pop into his mind every time he closes his eyes. All of Sirius and James, all of them examples where Regulus placed last.
Thereâs so many itâs hard to filter out which ones are new and which ones are old.
They all hurt just the same.
âWhatcha crying about now?â Barty asks, looking over at Regulus. He didnât even realise he was crying again, but he is. âDid I do something wrong? Iâll fix it, whatever. Get ya whatever you need, promise.â
âYou didnât do anything.â Regulus sniffles, rolling onto his back to look up at the ceiling. Bartyâs stuck posters up there, muggle ones of girls on motorcycles and punk bands, just to piss off his dad. âIâm justâŠâ
âGo on.â Barty asks, sitting up now, cross legged and attentive. âThereâs no one here, just me. Promise Iâll never tell.â
Regulus sighs and fiddles with his fingers, âI donât need your pity, Barty. Iâve survived this long, I can survive some more.â
âYeah, but youâre crying.â He says, and Regulus glares at him. âWhat? I ainât seen you cry before, itâs weird. I know itâs really gotta be botherin ya if youâre crying like this. What would Dora say?â
âSheâd probably try to hug me and make me cry more.â Regulus offers.
âDo you want⊠me to- uhm, hug you?â
âNo.â Regulus glares at him. âI donât want your pity, I said.â
âItâs not my pity, Regulus!â Barty splutters, âItâs a bloody hug. Dora says there really good for ya! I love her hugs, you know. Get âem all the time. I- I know Iâm no Pandora but⊠I mean, I can offer ya a real bony one.â
Regulus snickers and looks back up at the roof, âNo thanks. Thatâs weird.â
âIs it?â Barty asks, âCause⊠cause Iâve been listening to what sheâs sayin and⊠I think it would be nice.â
âIf I hugged you right now?â Regulus raised an eyebrow at him.
âYeah⊠and other times.â Barty shrugged, âI dunno, might be dumb but⊠weâre supposed to be friends, ya know? Friends hug. Cas hates âem, unless theyâre from Dora, but Evan and I hug sometimes.â
âYouâre being weird.â
âIâm not trying to.â Barty frowned, âI just⊠I care about you, I suppose.â
Regulus swallowed. The only person whoâs said that before has been Pandora, but she cares about everyone.
Barty⊠well, he doesnât care about much at all. He cares about so little, that Regulus thought the only thing he probably cared about was pissing off his dad and Pandora herself. But apparently thatâs not true.
Regulus doesnât want to believe it. He doesnât want to hurt himself by believing that he could be one of the very few things Barty has come to care about.
But theyâre friends, and Barty watches him a lot, and collects Regulusâ things, and helps him when he cries, and offers to hug him.
Now Regulus is crying for a whole other reason.
âOne hug?â Barty offers, sticking out his arms, âIâll make it so quick and if you hate it we donât ever have to do it again.â
Regulus contemplates it. He doesnât remember the last time he was hugged.
He knows the last good one was Pandora, maybe last year, when they were leaving for summer. Quick and carefree. The last bad one, that was James. Not that it was bad at the time, but it hurts to think about now. It was false stability and ended in heartbreak. The last time he was hugged to be soothed though? His mind takes him back to Sirius, when they were still little.
âFine.â Regulus mutters, sitting up under the covers, âBut make it quick.â
âYeah, yeah.â Barty nods and moves in, âSorry if Iâm uncomfortable.â
Regulus nods and sits very still as Barty wraps himself around Regulusâ shoulders. Itâs awkward, to say the least. Theyâve never done this before, and theyâre going about it very strangely.
âReg⊠you gotta relax a bit.â
âHow am I supposed to relax when I have a boney man attached to me?â
Barty scoffs and squeezes him a little tighter, âJust put your head on my shoulder, orrite. Relax, just for a second.â
Regulus huffs but does it anyway. He leans his head over to rest on Bartyâ shoulder and drops his own, and⊠oh, itâs nice. Itâs actually really, really nice. Bartyâs soothing his back, and twisting his finger around the end of Regulusâ hair. And itâs nice.
He canât even feel Bartyâs ribs poking him or anything. Itâs really, really cosy.
Regulus pushes him away, wiping his tears.
Barty gives him a guilty smile, âTerrible?â
âNo.â Regulus sniffles, âIt was actually grossly nice.â
Barty snickers and nods his head, âWell, if you ever need another hug, Iâll give ya as many as ya kneed.â
âThanks.â
âNo problems, Black.â
Regulus fiddles with the ends of his sleeve, refusing to look up at Barty, who he knows is sitting there and staring. Heâs so quiet, when he stares. Itâs as if any noise Barty makes would ruin his ability to set his full attention solely on Regulus.
Itâs so strange. Heâs so strange.
âYou canât tell anyone.â Regulus mumbles.
âWhat, that we hugged?â Barty laughs.
âNo.â He scoffs, âWhat I said before, wanker. In the showers.â
âOh.â Barty nods, âWell, I wasnât gonna anyway. Course not, Reg. I know you. I know you hate people knowing your business.â
Regulus nods, âYou really wouldnât have told anyone? Not even Dora?â
âCross my heart.â Barty smiles, doing just that, âI know sheâs my best friend, but you are too. It means something, you know?â
âOh.â Regulus mumbles.
Barty can only laugh at him, and Regulus turns a little pink.
âCan I⊠no, donât worry about it.â
âNo, go on.â Barty offers, âItâs just you and me.â
Regulus sighs, âI just⊠Iâm tired of not being good enough, Barty.â
âI dunno what you mean, Black. Youâre bloody brilliant.â Barty says, flopping down on his back like a starfish, âYou shoulda been in Ravenclaw with your smarts, and not to mention your skills as a seeker. Youâre top of the class, Reggie, course youâre good enough.â
Regulus thinks Barty will never understand how much that singular sentence fucking means to him, even if he tries to explain it. It stings, how good it feels to hear it. He never has. Not once.
âNot just in school, Barty. Everywhere else.â Regulus mumbles, wiping his teary eyes. Theyâre stinging again, and he really doesnât want to cry, but he knows he will. Itâs so stupid. âEverything else. Iâm justâŠâ
Barty rolls onto his side, propping his head up on his elbow to look at Regulus, âLike, with your family?â
Regulus nods, chewing on a hangnail.
âYeah, I get that.â Barty sighs, âIs this about⊠those who must not be named?â
Regulus closes his eyes to compose himself, and nods again.
âRight.â Barty says, âDid Sirius do something? You know he barked at me the other day, like a fucking dog. So Iâll go hex him, happily, if you want?â
âNo, Barty. Donât.â Regulus shook his head, âHe didnât⊠I⊠they both justâŠâ
âGo on.â Barty said softly, softer than Regulus has ever heard him speak before as he slowly sits up to get level with him.
âIâll always be second best.â Regulus mutters, and then he starts crying again. Hot tears down his cheeks, redness in his eyes, stuttering over himself as he shakes.
âOh, RegâŠâ
âHe- he just picked James, over his own blood brother. Every time itâs James and⊠and I⊠and James just⊠I loved him. I loved him Barty, I was in love with him. I think part of me still is, but⊠he, he picked Sirius too. He picked Sirius, and Lily, because sheâs just⊠sheâs so pretty, and smart, and sheâs got everything that Iâve got but, sheâs just⊠sheâs just so much better.â Regulus heaved, pressing a hand to his chest, âEverywhere, I see it everywhere. Not just with them, but mostly, I- Iâll never⊠Iâve never been someoneâs first choice, Barty. Ever. And I donât think I ever will be. No one picks me just because they can.â
His shoulders shake as he cries, his breath short and stuttered. When Barty reaches out in offer for another hug, Regulus falls forward into his arms, head pressed against his friends chest.
It feels so safe there, to be cradled in Bartyâs arms, itâs warm. He cries a puddle through his sweater, but Barty doesnât seem to mind.
âShh, Reggie.â Barry sooths, lightly scratching his nails over Regulusâ back and sifting his fingers through his hair. âJust breathe, love. Just breathe.â
Regulus follows his command, taking deep breaths and timing them with the rise and fall of Bartyâs chest beneath his head. He relaxes there, letting his eyes fall shut, and Barty continues to rub his back and play with his hair.
âIâm so tired.â Regulus mumbles through the last of his tears, âIâm going to fall asleep if you keep doing that.â
âThatâs okay.â Barty laughs softly, âHow about we lie down?â
âIsnât that weird?â Regulus asks.
âIsnât everything I do weird?â
Regulus shrugs and follows when Barty pulls him down to lay against the pillows. Barty slips under the covers with him, and pulls Regulusâ head against his chest again. Bartys heart is beating faster than it should be, but Regulus ignores it and wiggles around until heâs comfortable.
Once again, Barty strokes his back and scratches his scalp, and folds himself into Regulus a little.
He presses a little kiss to the top of Regulusâ head, and his heartbeat speeds up rapidly.
Regulus tenses, âWhy is your heart beating like that, Barty? Are you okay? Did I make you uncomfortable?â He questions, already coming up with a million terrible reasons for it. Heâs been so stupidly selfish about his own problems he didnât even notice how uncomfortable heâs made his supposed best friend.
âNoâŠâ Barty half follows as Regulus sits up, leaning back on his elbows, âNo, Reg. Obviously not.â
Regulusâ shoulders relax a little, âWell, then what is it?â
Barty looks away, âCome on, donât tease, Reggie. Iâm not in the mood.â
âIâm not teasing.â He shakes his head, âWhatâs the problem?â
âThereâs no problem, obviously.â Barty snickers, âCome on, we can just⊠we can forget about it by tomorrow if itâs weird.
âWhatâs weird, Crouch?â Regulus pressed, âI donât understand.â
Barty looked at him for a moment, eyebrows drawn together in the middle, and his mouth slowly fell open, âYou donât know?â
âKnow what?â Regulus asked.
âAbout meâŠâ
âAbout you⊠what?â Regulus shook his head.
âAboutâŠâ Barty sighed, shaking his head in delirium. He laughed, at himself, mostly, which only confused Regulus more, âEveryone said it was obvious. I just thought we both⊠I thought we had an understanding. That weâd both ignore it and go on with our lives.â
âWhat the fuck are you talking about, Barty?â Regulus asked, shoving at his chest.
âOi!â Barty snickered, âThat I⊠well⊠I thought you knew youâd be my first choice for everything.â
Regulus froze, scowling at him for a moment, âDonât tease-â
âNot teasing, Reggie.â Barty looked away, taking a short breath. âLook, if itâs⊠if itâs too weird, I get it. But, Iâm okay pretending, if you want.â
âP-pretending?â Regulus whispered.
âYeah.â He shrugged, sitting up and loosely hugging his knees, âPretending Iâm not in love with you.â
Regulus didnât have an answer for that. He was truely wound speechless. Barty⊠loves him?
âI meant it⊠Iâd pick- Iâd pick you over everything else in this world. I really mean it, Reggie. I promise.â Barty mumbled, âYouâre my first pick, always have been.â
Regulusâ heart stops in his chest for a moment. His throat hurts and his eyes sting again. Regulus doesnât think heâs cried as much as he has today through his entire life, including when he was a baby.
He canât help it, crying again. Because Regulus believes him. Bartyâs always been devastatingly honest, even at the worst of times. So why would he lie about this? And he looks so earnest, sounds it too. He sounds like he really, truely means it.
No ones ever picked Regulus first, besides Barty Crouch Jr, who has a collection of Regulusâ things, and who stares at him unashamedly, and consoles Regulus when he cries even if it makes him uncomfortable.
And Regulus has been too self centred to ever notice.
But Barty is in love with him, and by the sounds of it he has been for a while. Apparently everyone knows it.
He thinks about it for a moment, while he sobs and cries and heaves. Barty does all that he can to soothe him, reaching out to wipe away tears, and hold him, and rub his arms and back.
Regulus doesnât think heâs ever felt as safe as he doesnât when heâs around Barty. Which is an odd thing to realise, because Barty is kind of a loose cannon. Heâs violent, and angry, and snarky and rude. But with Regulus heâs always⊠well, heâs funny, and he can still be a little rude sometimes, but heâs also kind and generous and a little odd.
Regulus now realises all that oddness heâs noticed is just things Barty does that signals heâs in love with him. But Regulus has never noticed, heâs never looked to see how Barty doesnât do all these very things with other people.
Heâs Bartyâs first choice.
And now that he thinks of it, Barty might just be his.
Heâs the only person Regulus trusts to see him like this. Not even Pandora could, as much as he loves her. Regulus just hates being vulnerable. But he supposed itâs a little different with Barty, because heâs always been a little vulnerable with Regulus.
Itâs comforting, to say the least, to have confirmation that heâs wanted. That heâs cared for. That heâs somebodies first choice.
And Barty loves him, which is strange. Heâs never looked at Barty in that way before. And sure, Barty makes plenty of jokes about finding Regulus fit and wanting to snog him and so on and so forth, but heâs never thought too deeply about it.
He does that with other people, doesnât he?
Now that Regulus thinks about it, he definitely doesnât do it as much as he does it to Regulus.
Barty pulls away, rubbing up and down Regulusâ biceps, as he gives a nervous smile. Itâs crooked, like most of Bartyâs smiles, but this time Regulus really notices it.
âIâm sorry if itâs weird, I dunno what to do, Reggie.â Barty tries, âHow do I stop you crying?â
Regulus sniffled and blinked his tears away slowly, refusing to cry anymore. His cheeks are all wet and sticky, and his eyes fucking ache, as well as his throat, but heâs not thinking about that.
âDo you really mean that?â Regulus sniffles, and he blinks away a few more tears, âMe being your first choice?â
âOf course, why would I lie about that, Reg. It clearly means a lot to you- I just⊠I thought you knew.â
Regulus scrunches up his nose, âWell, why would I cry about how Iâm no oneâs first choice if I knew I was yours?â
Bartyâs quiet for a moment. He retracts his hands and ducks his head to mumble, âI just thought⊠well I thought I didnât really matter, at the end of it all.â He shrugged, âIâd do anything for you- I already have, you know, and⊠I just⊠I thought you knew. And I thought it didnât matter to you because⊠well, Iâm the same, I suppose. I donât think anyoneâs picked me first either.â
âYou still⊠even thinking that I just- I just didnât care about you, or your feelings or⊠or anything at all, you stillâŠâ Regulus scrunched up his nose, ducking his head to catch Bartyâs eye, âYou still would have picked me first?â
Barty nodded, âDone anything for you.â
âOh.â Regulus whispered, shaking his head, âBartyâŠâ
âYeah?â Barty asked, swallowing a large lump in his throat.
Regulus kisses him. No thoughts, no warnings, no nothing at all. He just leans forward and kisses him right on the mouth.
Barty pulls away first, almost immediately, wide eyed and startled, âWhat the fuck did you do that for?â
âI donât know.â Regulus muttered, touching his lips, âYou just⊠I⊠you love me, and⊠fuck, Barty. Youâre my best friend.â
âYeah.â Barty nodded, thereâs water in his eyes now, and Regulus can tell heâs trying to hold it back, âAnd you just kissed me. Please donât- donât do that. Iâm⊠I canât handle that, Reg. I can handle us being friends, even though itâs driving me mad, but⊠I just- I canât-â
âWell, donât you want to be more?â
âFucking hell, Regulus.â Barty leers back.
âWhat?â Regulus scoffs.
âYou canât just fucking⊠donât say that.â He shakes his head, taking a moment to compose himself, âDonât be stupid, orrite. I canât fucking⊠I love you, Reggie. I canât handle⊠possibilities because Iâm just⊠Iâm gonna drive myself crazy thinking about them. And thatâs not good.â
âIâve never had someone love me before, Barty.â Regulus whispers, âIâve never had someone⊠I want- I want to chose you too. Youâre my best friend, and I already do choose you. But I want to do it more. I want to⊠please?â
âI donât understand, Reg.â Barty whispered back.
Regulus took his hand, smoothing his fingers over Bartyâs rigid knuckles. Theyâre rough and scarred, just as they always are. Just as Regulus knows them to be.
âI donât really either, Barty.â He admits, âI never knew you felt that way, and Iâve never thought about it- you- us. Iâve never thought about us like that before, but I⊠I can picture it.â
Barty closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.
âIâm not trying to hurt you, Barty. I donât want to lead you on. I want to try. Donât you want to try?â
Barty keeps his eyes sealed shut and he shakes his head no, âWhat happens when you get bored of me? What- what happens when Potter comes crawling back to you? What happens when you realise Iâm fucking⊠more insane than you thought? Iâd- donât tempt me, Regulus, because I meant what I said, Iâd do anything for you.â Bartyâs breath trembles, âIâd kill him, Iâd kill them both. Iâd kill all of them, just to make you happy. So you never feel like a second choice to them ever again- I- I mean it, Regulus.â
âI know.â Regulus breaths, and it scares him, what Bartyâs saying, because he does know. Itâs not just words. But those words arenât the part that scare him, itâs the fact that he likes it that does. It makes him want. âI know, Barty. And I know that if I hurt you, truly, truly hurt you like this, youâd make my life a living hell. I know.â
âWhat about Potter?â Barty asks, trying to mask tears of his own, âDonât you love him?â
âMaybe.â Regulus admits, regretfully so, âBut I donât want to. Heâd never⊠he could never love me the way you could anyway. The way that I need.â
âAnd how do you need it?â
âTo be your first choice.â Regulus whispered, âHow do you need it, Barty?â
Barty took a deep breath, thinking about it for a moment. He looked up at Regulus with a pout and hopeful eyes, âI just want to be good enough for love before anything else.â
Regulus smiles, âYou are.â
Barty shakes his head.
âYou are.â Regulus confirms, âTo me, you are.â
Barty sniffles, âDo you love me⊠like that?â
Regulus sighs, âN⊠no.â He scolds himself for the truth, because it seems to shatter Bartyâs heart to pieces. âBut I want to, Barty⊠I want to love you the way you do me. And I think I will. You just have to let me.â
âReally?â Barty sobs.
Regulus nods, âWill you let me?â
Barty nods and leans back in, and Regulus kisses him again. They both had wet cheeks, and headaches, and heartaches from crying, but they kiss anyway. And Regulus cries again, for hopefully the last time, because Barty kisses like he never wants to stop.
Regulus has never been kissed like that before.
Regulus has never been loved before.
He thinks with Barty, he might just be enough.
â
â
â
Bartylus shippers unite.
This oneâs so angsty Iâm sorry but I canât help it and yerr Reggie kinda has misogynistic views which is gross but itâs the fucking 70âs and look at his parents. I USUALLY write them all to be better than that and not arseholes but I wanted to make this one hurt.
Also I donât think Iâve written from Reggieâs pov before sooooo that was interesting.
Idk I liked this. Let me know your thoughts :)
Read here on ao3
If you want to read more of my stuff you can find it all here :))
Tagging everyone that expressed interest in the angsty bartylus one shot lmao: @lapassemirroir @mayflywrites @garlicbread4ever @moonyluv-s @managingmischeif @stxr-bxy @the-lionsheart @crimsonlovebartylus
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please do something with nancy wheelr i miss my baby
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SAVE ME FROM WHAT I WANT - nancy wheeler
author's note: my beautiful jean genie anon, i love you so much for asking for this and i hope to god you like it. this honestly maybe might be a prologue to something bigger i'm toying around with (spot the references l o l) but-- let's just get into it, shall we???
content warning: nancy wheeler being semi in denial about her sexuality, nancy wheeler is a lesbian, mentions of pussy eatin but no actual pussy eatin, references to complicated stancy and jancy, mention of parent illness, a little angst and a little fluff
word count: 1.7k
The first time Nancy Wheeler kissed a girl was not a light bulb moment.
There were no choirs of angels singing, no great and fantastic revelation about who she is.Â
Because itâs not like she hadnât thought about it before.
Nancy, a student of the human scene, has entertained the curiosity the same way one might like, want to see what happens when they throw a watermelon off the top of an eleven story building. The fall and the impact will surely be thrilling, but then thereâs the cleanup. Did you know itâs illegal to throw watermelons off buildings in most US states? So theoretically, if she were to throw the watermelon, she could always toss and run. But then sheâd have to live with the guilt of not going back and owning up to her mess. It could have really hurt someone. Maybe it did!Â
But the temptation to throw is still there.Â
Anyway, she doesnât think about it that much. So itâs fine.Â
She only thought about it when her feminist lit professor paused at her desk, returning the paper sheâd written about Gloria Steinem infiltrating the Playboy Club. Professor Gonzalez, who Nancy canât quite bring herself to call Flo despite her insistence, has sleek black hair that tumbles over her shoulder like dark and deadly sand through an hourglass. It fell in a sheet then too, almost hitting Nancy in the face as Flo told her, âThis is great. I know Gloria, and she would totally love this.âÂ
Despite Nancyâs best friend derisively protesting that Professor Gonzalez does not know Gloria, are you shitting me, Nancy entertains daydreams where she and Flo and Gloria Steinem meet up in a dark bar for a gorgeous, stimulating meeting of the minds. In some versions, Flo goes home first, leaving Nancy and Gloria alone. In other versions, the versions that throw heat on Nancyâs cheeks even just thinking about them, Gloria goes home first and Nancy and Flo are staring at each other through the brine-heavy buzz of dirty martinis.Â
Nancy doesnât even like dirty martinis.Â
She discovered this at some dorm get together or another, where one of her similarly-affected-by-pretentiousness coursemates attempted to mix them. Badly, she assumed, because they tasted like crap. She winced on every sip.Â
âSomeone once told me these were supposed to taste like pussy,â her best friend had said from the common area couch, to which Nancy had snorted, Jesus!, a little gin and vermouth and brine coming out of her nose.Â
âAnd?â That came from a girl in a smart ponytail, who was wearing smart suit slacks and a smart sweater in ultra smart, muted colors. She had taken a seat next to Nancy on the floor by the fire, and Nancy found herself awkwardly adjusting her off-the-shoulder sweatshirt. She should have dressed up for this, right? But these common room salons were always happening, and it felt like it was so hard to gauge the dress code.Â
âHow does that flavor profile match up?âÂ
Nancy realized that the low tone this girl was speaking in wasnât meant for the room. It wasnât even meant for her best friend, whoâd posed the question. It was just meant for her.Â
Ah, Nancy mouthed. âUm. I donât know. Iâve never⊠tried it.â
Oh, the girl mouthed back, her head cocked toward her shoulder. âMaybe you should think about expanding your palate.âÂ
Nancyâs stomach had jumped and she had drunk the rest of her shitty martini way too fast. By the time she had figured it was time to head to bed, her head felt like it was floating a couple of inches above her neck, and she was hand-in-hand with the smart girl from the fire.Â
Back slumping against the door in a clumsy stumble. Nancy giggled. The girl, who said her name was Sal, which Nancy thought was very glamorous, leaned against the door next to her.Â
âI wish I dressed like you,â Nancy said, reaching out to finger the arm of her sweater. Cashmere. Something expensive. People were always wearing expensive things here. They looked so grown-up, so continental, compared to Nancyâs department store skirts and pastel shades.Â
âWe can swap outfits,â Sal hummed, the words coming from low in her throat as she tilted her head towards Nancyâs, âif your roommate isnât home.â
Nancy Wheeler, even four crapshoot dirty martinis in, is not obtuse. Seeing double might make it a quadruple entendre, but she still knows one when she hears it.Â
âI⊠have a boyfriend,â sheâd whispered, almost into Salâs mouth. That was, at the time, only half true. She and Steve were still navigating long distance in a post-Jonathan-breakup world. It wasnât perfect yet, so no promises were made. But history weighed heavy on them.
Sal reached out to pluck at Nancyâs old sweatshirt, the one sheâd cut the neck out of to make it drape around her shoulders like Jennifer Beals in Flashdance. It was a comfort thing, an old blanket, a teddy bear. âA Hawkins Tiger, no doubt?â
âUsed to be.âÂ
âAnd what does a Hawkins Tiger know about pussy?â This, Sal had whispered into the shell of her ear, arm tightening around her waist. Her lips met that spot of skin behind Nancyâs ears that she liked to have touched, how did Sal know that. Giggling lowly, Nancy tilted her head to meet Salâs lips, the kiss so small and so delicate that it hardly felt like launching anything at all. No great pull, no absolute passionate urgency.Â
Suddenly, as Sal flushed her chest against Nancyâs and deepened the kiss, she had a vision of splattered watermelon.Â
Projectiles are so dangerous.Â
âThey know⊠more than youâd think,â Nancy said, and smiled, and slipped away from Sal and into the darkness of her bedroom.Â
Better to be safe than sorry.Â
The second time Nancy kissed a girl, she didnât even look like herself.Â
She had come stomping into her best friendâs off-campus apartment (this girl being one year her senior) with her makeup kit in hand, like she was cashing in a makeover coupon that was about to expire. âPlease, help me out here. I need toâ it needs to be different this time.â
Now, that statement could have meant anything; it being New Years Eve, which they were about to celebrate, it being the most recent iteration of her breakup with Steve, it being her entire vision of herself.Â
Nancy was fashioned into a vixen of epically out-of-her skin proportions, but she loved it. And maybe it was the bottle of cheap champagne theyâd indulged in while getting ready, but she couldnât quit gazing at her sparkling sapphire eyelids, the dress with chains for straps draping over her lithe little frame, the body waves her perm had been gelled into. She felt so far away from the hardheaded provincial do-gooder sheâd admonished herself for being, a tiny bumpkin of a fish in the humongous, rushing, risque pond of college life. She felt alive and mischievous, like a nymph, her blood sparkling in her veins like the bubbles in her coupe. Â
She and her best friend set off out to a party, shivering against the sub-zero temperatures and whooping like hyenas all the way there. Arms linked, sharing what little body heat they had, their mood soon flatlined as they settled into the festivitiesâ average college fare, you know, with all of their other friends already paired off for their New Yearsâ kisses. They were the only two single people there, it seemedâ she, recently liberated and her best friend, taking her seasonal sabbatical from mistletoe-themed hookups. It reminds her too much of a boy she knew in high school, though sheâd never admit that.Â
But Nancy knows. And Nancy loves her, despite the collegiate wild streak that has alienated her a little bit. And Nancy wanted to show her as much.Â
Before the countdown even began, Nancy entwined their glitter painted fingers and said, âHey! Promise me something?â
âAnything, Pants.âÂ
âPromise me weâll always be as fun as we are right now,â she said, beaming. âPromise that no matter what happens, weâll never lose it.âÂ
Aw! her best friend had mouthed, and took Nancyâs heart-shaped face in her hands. She leaned in, lips pulling Nancyâs in. Like tulip petals, Nancy had thought, but hadnât exactly known why. They kissed and kissed, as the countdown raged and the ball dropped into sparkling smithereens. And as she felt her best friendâs tongue try and brace against her lips, Nancy pulled away. They stood together, forehead-to-forehead, giggling again.Â
When their bubbles finally flattened, they spent the rest of the night and much of the morning talking about what life would be like if they could be togetherâ because as much as Nancy loved her, and as fun as kissing her was, it was no watermelon. âIt was a gas,â her best friend said, in that Fitzgeraldian way she had about her.Â
They would celebrate the anniversary of what could have been, if they only worked out every year after.
Her first year out of college, Nancy spent her nights praying for a thrill. Six months filled with pulling doubles at a college bar in Indianapolis, hospital rooms, speaking to doctors when her mother couldnât, fighting against her brotherâs sullen silences and explaining to her sister what remission meant. Misery metastasized into monotony. She started staring down watermelons at the market.Â
And she knows thatâs a terrible thing to say and think, but itâs true. Even with all the support she had from Steve, who never knew exactly what to do when sheâd report on her fatherâs diminishing health with the cadence of a newscaster, or even the help she was getting from Eddie, who took her on as a roommate in his shithole apartment. He got her a job in that divey college bar so she could be closer to her family as they all fell apart, shuttling her back and forth to Hawkins in his van. He was a better sibling to Mike than she ever was, she thought. Mike certainly seemed to like him more.Â
The first time Nancy Wheeler realizes she really, really, really wants to kiss a girl, she stinks of fryer grease and spilled beer. And she should have expected it.
Expected to see her, anyway.Â
Steve had told her about it weeks ago, but she had smoked half a joint of Eddieâs without telling either of them and zoned out. Very unlike the Nancy Wheeler that Hawkins had once known.Â
She should have expected to see her, but here she is. Like a shock to the system, a last alarm. Nervous hands curved around a glass of Pilsner. Baseball cap on backwards. Cheeks ruddy with the chill of the city.Â
âOh! Heyâ hi, Robin.â
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