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Their friendship had always been a paradox. Barty, intense and emotionally volatile, found an odd sense of stabity in Evan's calm detachment. Evan, in turn, valued the spark Barty brought into his otherwise meticulously controlled life. They had met at Hogwarts, two misfits in their own ways. Barty overshadowed by his father's expectations, and Evan burdened by the weight of his family's legacy.
Over the years, their bond deepened. For Barty, it became something more. A yearning that twisted his thoughts late at night. He couldn't sleep for hours, thing about how he could fix his feelings. He knew Evan would never feel the same about him. The never talked about it but he still knew. Yet, Barty couldn't help but crave more. He fell in love with his best friend.
By their final year, Barty and Evan had developed a bond that needed no words. They were often seen together—Evan with his effortless composure and Barty with his restless energy. One evening, they sneaked out to the Astronomy Tower, a bottle of firewhisky Evan had procured tucked under his arm. They sat next to each other, legs dangling.
“To what?” Evan asked, raising his glass.
“To freedom,” Barty said. Evan raised an eyebrow. “Ambitious. But I’ll drink to that.” They clinked their glasses and drank, the warmth of the firewhisky cutting through the cold night air.
“You know,” Barty said after a moment, “I think you’re the only person who really gets me.” Evan looked at him, his smirk replaced by something softer.
“That’s because you’re the only person who’s honest about who they are. Everyone else? Liars. Pretending to be something they’re not.” Like me, Evan thought, but didn’t dare to say it.
One cold winter evening, they sat next to each other on Evans bed, under the guise of planning Regulus's birthday party. They knew Reg hated his birthday, but everyone should have some happy birthday memories. Regulus was out, probably meeting his secret boyfriend again. Thinking about happy birthday memories they fell into a carusell of not so happy birthday memories.
"Do you ever think about leaving?" Barty asked suddenly. Evan glanced at him. "Leaving what? The war? The school?"
"All of it," Barty said. "The war, my father, this whole bloody mess. We could go somewhere else, you and me. Start a new life. Somewhere warm."
Evan chuckled. "and do what, Barty? Open a pub? Run a farm? You'd be bored out of your mind in a week."
"I'd be free," Barty said quietly. there was a rare seriousness in his eyes.
"Freedom doesn't exist, not really. there's always someone pullng the strings," Evan said.
"At least this way, we get to pull some of them ourself."
Evan didn't answer. Instead, he reached out and rested a arm around Barty's shoulder, a rare gesture of comfort. Evan wasn't a touchy person. Most of the time he hated physical touch. But with Barty it was fine. "You don't have to stay, you know. If it ever get's too much..."
"You know I'm not going anywhere without you," Barty said, his voice barely above a whisper.
--
One evening, Barty finally spoke. He had been discussing the possibilities in his head for ages.
"Evan," he began, his voice hesitant. Evan glanced at him, arching a brow. "You're being dramatic again. Spit it out."
"I think I love you," Barty said, the words hanging in the air between them. Evan was silent for a long moment, his gaze fixed on the stars above. When he finally spoke, his tone was measured but kind.
"I know," Evan said simply.
Barty's heart clenched. "And?"
Evan went silent again. He tapped his fingers against his own thighs, contemplating the word that had started to take root in his mind a while ago: asexual. It fit, like a key turning in a lock. But saying it aloud? That was something else entirely. He knew he could trust Barty, but to come out with the truth right now? Evan exhaled sharply, his chest tight with a feeling he couldn’t quite name, though he’d tried. For years, he’d thought himself incapable of romantic love. He didn’t feel the pull others described, the longing for touch or intimacy that seemed to drive them. Yet here he was.
It wasn’t desire, Evan realized a while ago, but something deeper. He loved Barty, not in the way most people meant when they spoke of love, but in a way that was no less real. He loved the way Barty made him feel alive, the way their arguments felt like a game only they understood, the way Barty trusted him without question.
And it terrified him. Because what did he have to offer? He could give Barty loyalty, protection, a bond that would never break. But he couldn’t give him what the world expected love to be. Evan leaned back, his gaze steady.
"And... i can't give you what you want, Barty," he finally said, turning to face him. "Not because I don't love you, I do. More than anyone else in this damn world. But i don't feel the same way about you."
"Not the same way? You just said you love me..." Barty said confused. Evan smiled sadly, "yeah..."
"I don't understand," he said.
"Barty..." Evan said quietly, cutting through the stream of complaints.
“What?”
Evan took a slow breath, his hands shaking. He had rehearsed this moment a dozen times, but now, with Barty next to him, his sharp eyes filled with that rare flicker of concern, the words caught in his throat. Only moments ago Barty told him he loved him.
“I need to tell you something,” Evan began, his voice steady but low. “Something about me.”
Barty tilted his head slightly, the tension in his posture softening. “Alright. Go on.”
Evan hesitated, then pushed forward. “I’ve never... felt the way other people do. About romance. About... desire.” He glanced away, his gaze fixed on the distant. “I don’t want those things. Not with anyone.”
For a moment, there was only silence. Then Barty moved closer, his expression unreadable. “But you just told me...”
"I know, but it's not the same. I'm asexual, barty. My feelings are... different than yours," Evan cut in.
"So... that’s it?” Barty asked, his tone calm but thoughtful. Evan’s chest tightened. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” Barty said, gesturing slightly, “that’s your big revelation? You’re asexual. You don’t feel that way about people.” He shrugged. “Alright.” Evan blinked, his composure slipping into confusion. “That’s it?”
Barty leaned forward again, his eyes locking onto Evan’s with an intensity that could have melted stone. “Evan, I love you. Not because I expect anything from you, not because I’m waiting for something to change. I love you. The way you think, the way you carry yourself, the way you make me feel like I’m not completely alone in this mess of a world. That’s enough for me.”
Evan opened his mouth to speak, but Barty cut him off.
“Listen to me,” Barty said firmly, his voice steady. “I love you, and you told me you love me too, right? We’ll make it work. However we need to, whatever that looks like. I don’t care about what other people think love is supposed to be. What I care about is you, and the fact that I can’t imagine my life without you in it.”
Evan stared at him, the weight of Barty’s words sinking in. He had always assumed his truth would be a burden, a barrier. But here was Barty, looking at him with nothing but certainty in his eyes. “You mean that,” Evan said quietly, more a statement than a question.
“Of course I mean it,” Barty replied, his lips curling into a rare, soft smile. “When have you ever known me to lie to you?” A rare warmth spread through Evan’s chest, and for the first time in a long while, he felt something close to peace. For the first time, he felt a weight lift, like he could finally breathe. “Thank you,” he said, his voice steady.
“Don’t thank me. Just... stick around, alright? That’s all I need.”
Evan gave him a small, genuine smile. “I think I can do that.” Evan hesitated for a moment, gathering his thoughts. “I’m not comfortable with... anything physical beyond a certain point. Kissing is fine, but beyond that, I just don’t feel it. I don’t want to feel pressured into something I can’t give.”
Barty listened intently, his sharp eyes softening. “Okay,” he said simply. Evan blinked. “Okay?”
“Yes, okay,” Barty repeated, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “You think I’m going to argue with you about that? I told you, Evan, I love you. Not because of what we can or can’t do, but because you’re you. That’s all that matters to me.” Evan felt a warmth spread through his chest, a rare but welcome feeling.
“You make it sound so simple.”
“It is simple,” Barty said, leaning forward. “I’ll follow your lead. If kissing’s on the table, great. If you change your mind about anything, we’ll talk. And if you don’t, that’s fine too. We’ll figure it out as we go.”
Evan gave him a small, grateful smile. “You’re surprisingly reasonable about this.” Barty chuckled, leaning back again.
“Don’t get used to it. You’re the only one who gets this version of me.”
They sat in silence for a moment before Barty glanced at him again, a mischievous glint in his eye. “So, about this kissing thing...” Evan rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the faint smirk that crossed his lips. “Don’t push your luck, Crouch.” Barty laughed, the sound filling the room like a spark of light in the shadows.
And as they sat together, the unspoken understanding between them grew stronger. Proof that love didn’t have to follow anyone else’s rules to be real. He had proven that love didn’t have to fit into neat little boxes to be real. It was strange, this feeling of being seen, wholly and without compromise. Barty didn’t just tolerate his asexuality, he accepted it as part of who Evan was, without question. It was freeing, almost disarming, to have someone who cared so deeply and expected nothing Evan couldn’t give.