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Sticky floors. Speakers close to blowing. Sex Pistols rattled the walls.
Bodies danced. Heat radiated from every surface. Hands that always seemed too full.
Strobe lights. Long queues to the loos. A girl stood far too close.
Evan looked away, his eyes falling on the polished bar. He watched the bartender drag a towel over every drink spill, drying up the never-ending waste of money that poured out with every drop of split drink.
Elbows on the bar, legs dangled off the stool. He felt short, he knew he wasn’t. A crowd stumbled over, pushing themselves in right by Evan’s side. Drink after drink shouted through the air, breaking through some of Johnny’s vocals and setting the bartender to work.
They all sported the same leather, the same spiked hair, the same platform boots with spikes that screamed they belonged in that place.
Evan did not belong there.
They must be thinking the same, as they all glanced at him, thinking he probably didn’t notice. Then, their laughter cut through the air.
A round of shots and mixed drinks in their hands, and they were gone. Back on the dance floor.
With a crowd like that, Evan stuck out like a sore thumb, but somehow, he only gained attention from everyone he didn’t want.
A bowl of crisps. A glass of water. A deep breath as Evan hated himself for his stupid routine.
A Friday evening. A Friday night. The same routine.
A meeting of eyes. A wave. The Adverts took over from the speakers and filled the space instead.
Evan groaned as he watched Barty - stupid, pathetic, perfect Barty - wave at him and then turn around to the first girl he saw.
Evan couldn’t watch the rest, he never could.
He never understood it, never saw what Barty did in girls with pleated skirts and leather jackets. Crazy hairstyles and body modifications. Fishnets and makeup. Teeth that were always stained with lipstick.
He wished Regulus were there. At least then he wouldn’t be alone in his misery. Evan spun around on the stool so he could stare at the wall instead of the crowd. Usually, they partied all three, and when Evan said party, Regulus and Evan sulked in a corner while Barty got piss-drunk and shoved his tongue down any girl with a mouth.
Evan liked partying, he just didn’t like partying with Barty.
At least with Regulus there, he could drink his misery away, but when it was just him and Barty, Evan was left to be sober and miserable. Because if he wasn’t sober, Barty would probably die before he got home.
Evan ordered another glass of water just to keep his sanity. The bartender looked at him like he was ruining his entire day. Maybe Evan was. He just sat there, out of place, didn’t buy anything expensive, and blocked space up to the bar.
Evan didn’t want to be there either, he was just waiting until he could leave.
He swirled the water around in the glass, watching it hit the sides without spilling. He wasn’t sure how long he sat like that before he felt an arm around him.
“Hiya.” Barty rested his head on Evan’s shoulder. He always did, like Evan’s shoulder was meant to hold Barty’s head, yet, Barty never let his head stay there forever. Eventually, he always pulled away. “Still only drinking water?”
Evan hummed, glancing up at Barty. His face was flushed, his eyeliner smudged. He had lipstick marks on his face, down his neck. Evan reached out to rub some off his cheek.
“Ah!” Barty swatted his hand away, jumping far and almost into someone walking past behind them. “Don’t touch me like that.”
Barty proceeded to rub his own cheek, a frown on his face as he kept his distance from Evan rather than clinging to him as he had a second ago.
“Are you ready to go?” Evan asked, ignoring how his whole being stung from Barty’s distance.
“Aye, sure.” Barty shrugged. Evan held up the glass of water, handing it to Barty. He took it and finished it off before they left together.
The night air was fresh, the summer heat somewhat still lingering despite the sun setting hours ago. The streets weren’t quiet, music from the clubs made it outside when people ran in and out through the doors. Everywhere smelled like piss and cigarette smoke.
Barty stumbled around on the cobbled streets like a fawn learning to walk, his hands coming up every now and again to either grasp Evan’s arm, the wall of the nearest building, or some silly T-pose as he tried to keep his balance.
“Maybe you could walk like a normal person if you didn’t wear those ridiculous boots.” Evan muttered when Barty almost tripped into him, and Evan had to stabilise them both so they didn’t fall right down to the ground.
“Fine.” Barty stopped, stubbornly dragging his boots off his feet. He fell three inches without his platforms, resuming the height Evan was used to between them. “Here.”
Barty shoved the boots in Evan’s arms. For Evan to carry. Because why wouldn’t Evan carry them? He didn’t have an answer to that because he would. Evan didn’t protest, he only grabbed them in his hands as he watched when Barty walked more stably on his socked feet.
Digging through pockets. Cigarettes in hands. Lighter clicked and they lit up.
Barty stepped up on his toes, placing one of the cigarettes between Evan’s lips. Evan froze and only watched as Barty's fingers brushed his lips.
The heat radiated off his fingers and spread throughout Evan’s body. What was left when the second had passed was only the taste paper of the filter and ache in Evan’s chest.
“Yours or mine?” Barty asked, taking a drag as if Evan wasn’t seconds away from breaking down from a brief brush of fingers on his lips.
“Mine’s closer.” Evan mumbled from around the cigarette. He grabbed the boots with one hand just so he could take a drag of his own and not drop the cigarette if he needed to speak again.
The smoke curled up towards the starry sky above. The streetlights danced on Barty’s skin. The wind pulled slightly on his hair.
He shivered, Evan automatically stepped closer.
Barty looked around, Evan followed with his own gaze everywhere he looked. There were a group of people just across the street, drinking bottles of beer that they then threw against the pavement until they shattered. They laughed, and Barty took a step further away from Evan when he saw them.
Stopped around the corner. A cigarette dropped to the ground while hands fumbled for keys in jeans pockets. Locks turned with a squeak.
The door creaked more than the locks.
Barty climbed the stairs quickly, almost slipping on his mismatched socks. He had a hole in the heel. Evan saw it for a second, and then Barty’s heel met the stairs as he pushed up two steps at a time.
When Evan reached his flat door, Barty was bouncing on his feet by it.
“Slowpoke.” Barty teased as Evan pulled the door open. He only managed a huff before Barty slipped inside before him and went straight for the living room.
“Take off your fucking socks, they’re dirty as hell, and I don’t want them on my sofa.” Evan muttered, locking the door behind him before he dropped Barty’s boots down in the hall.
“Fine.” Barty called back, his voice an echo in Evan’s space. Barty had his own flat a few streets away, but somehow, he seemed to always spend more time in Evan’s. With Evan. He was always around Evan.
Evan kicked off his trainers and followed into the living room. Barty had taken off his socks and left them on the rug. He flopped down on the sofa, like he lived there, already making himself too comfortable for the night.
“How about next week, you go home with one of the many girls you shove your tongue in?” Evan said with only slight bitterness in his voice. He knelt and balled up Barty’s socks before he went back into the hall to put them in his boots.
“Why?”
“Don’t you wanna shag them?” Evan stepped back into the room, sitting down on the coffee table as Barty took up the entire sofa. “Like you used to?”
“The scene gets boring quick, Vanny.” Barty stretched, his vest riding up and exposing all of his bare stomach. Evan would be a fool not to glance over it, but he would be even more daft to actually stare. “Old Barty, sure, but I’m twenty now, and I’m rethinking life choices.”
“Really? You’re thinking?” Evan leaned back on his hands, turning to meet Barty’s deep eyes. Brown and dark like the night. Evan could get lost in them as he could in a forest after nightfall. They were just as dangerous as the wolves and bears that might live in that forest.
“Yes, thank you very much.” Barty shifted, tugged on his clothes, hiding the sliver of skin that was previously exposed. “And while I had my fun in college and after graduating, I’ve decided to tone it down a little. Play the field more than just hit a try, you know?”
“Is that a rugby metaphor?”
“Aye, right, you don’t watch rugby.” Barty smacked his lips. “You understood it, though, no?”
“Of course, I did.” Evan rolled his eyes. He might not know anything about rugby, but he understood what Barty was trying to say. “You’d rather date than hookups.”
“You’re so smart, Evan.” Barty sat up, his legs swinging back down to the floor. They bumped knees with the swift motion and Barty’s lack of coordination. Evan jumped because it hurt, but Barty didn’t seem to feel anything. “So aye, rather just come home with you.”
“Well, I might stop partying soon.” Evan shifted his legs around to make space and busied himself so as not to look at Barty. They ended up with an alternating leg each, thighs and knees all shoved tight together. “I’m getting too old for drinking.”
“Is that why you just shug water nowadays?”
“Yeah, it is. Don’t wanna make a fool out of myself.” He gave Barty a pointed look, who chuckled.
“I do that quite often.” Barty exhaled, his breath hitting Evan’s neck and only then did he realise how close together they actually were. Only in private would Barty let his touches linger or sit close for longer periods of time. “You’ve never though.”
“I have, you were just too drunk to remember.”
Feet on a table. Hands in tousled hair. Lips locked with another boy. Not Barty - oh, how Evan had wished it was Barty - but a boy nonetheless.
Barty didn’t remember it, the rest of the school did.
And ever since then, Barty never lingered too long.
It was one of those things they never spoke about. The whole school called Evan slurs. Regulus would glare at anyone who did. Barty remained in the background. He didn’t run, he still cared, he was just…cautious.
“Maybe that was for the best then.” Barty whispered.
“Maybe.”
Barty nodded slowly as he leaned back. Evan wanted to take off his jumper. He was always so warm in Barty’s proximity. Evan almost moved to do so when Barty opened his mouth again.
“Have you ever read the Iliad?” He asked, eyes fixated on Evan. There was something in them, something Evan didn’t know what it meant. He couldn’t make it out. It was a first, he had always been able to read Barty like a book.
“No?” Evan furrowed his eyebrows. “I mean, we talked about it in class. I doubt you listened to a word of it.”
“I didn’t.” Barty chuckled faintly. “But I copied Reggie’s notes. He happens to have a full copy of the Iliad too.”
“Doesn’t surprise me. He would be the type to obsess over Ancient Greece.” Evan waited for Barty to get to the point because he was definitely going somewhere.
“Aye, he would. I borrowed it off him.” Barty tapped his fingers against his thigh. If he moved his hand an inch to the left, they would be on Evan’s thigh instead. “Read parts of it.”
“Why the fuck would you do that?” Evan couldn’t quite grasp the idea that Barty would willingly read anything.
“Because in the notes, Reggie wrote something about Achilles. And I found him interesting.”
“Isn’t the whole book about Achilles?”
“Well, yes, but this specific part…” And Barty broke eye contact. He looked down at his hand, fiddled with the hole in his ripped jeans. “It made great arguments already in Ancient Greece. Over if it was love or friendship.”
“Achilles and Patroclus?” Evan recalled that they had discussed that in school. The only reason he remembered was because everyone had looked at Evan as if he were the reason they were even discussing the matter of gay relationships in Ancient Greek literature.
“Aye.” Barty glanced up at Evan. “And I used to think they were just friends, but then I thought about it and–”
“You’re losing me.” Evan whispered because his heart started racing from the look Barty gave him and the incredibly weak implications. Evan’s heart was running with it, but his brain yelled to get more context, to understand more.
“Okay, again, uhm.” Barty chewed on his lip, his leg started bouncing, rubbing against Evan’s with every small motion. “Maybe I’m just confused, and you’re not.”
“No, I’m definitely confused.” Evan didn’t understand where he was going anymore. He thought he did, that was why his heart started racing, but it turned out his brain was wise to wait for Barty to continue because none of what he said made sense, at least not to Evan.
Barty groaned, throwing his head back.
“Forget it.” Barty leaned his head against the backrest of the sofa, staring at the ceiling. Evan stared at his Adam’s apple as it bobbed with him swallowing. “I don’t know what I’m saying anyway. I’m pissed, just ignore me.”
There was a beat of silence. Evan tried his best to figure out what Barty meant. Was he just acknowledging Evan’s sexuality after years of ignoring it? Was that his way of saying he was okay with it? That he understood it?
“Why were you thinking of Achilles and Patroclus in the first place?” Evan broke the silence. He wanted to know.
“Well, at first it was just this curiosity. Why would these old philosophers argue over this?” Barty gestured with his hands as he spoke, but he kept staring up at the ceiling. “And I thought I’d just forget about it, but every once in a while, they popped back into my head.” Barty started chewing his lip again. “And with every time, I realised more, they were lovers. It was so obvious. So why did they argue against it?”
Barty sat up straight again. Deep brown eyes met Evan’s.
“And then, I realised, maybe I was just confused. Maybe I slept with girls because I was confused. Maybe I keep kissing girls because I don’t want the truth.” Barty swallowed hard. “I’m Achilles.”
Evan felt his heart stop. It had been beating, racing, he had felt it, and then it all just stilled.
Forgotten breath. Stopped heart. Clammy palms.
“But Achilles wasn’t confused; he knew he loved Patroclus. It was everyone else who looked at them and judged them, and I feel like that’s us, right? Back in school. I hated hearing our names together. Rather everyone thought you were slumming it with Reg than with me.”
“Barty–” Evan rasped, his voice lost somewhere in his throat. His vocal cords didn’t vibrate; nothing in Evan’s body worked.
“No, listen.” Barty moved his hand an inch to the left, right on Evan’s thigh. “Shit. Okay. Here goes.” Barty took a shaky breath. “So a few months ago, I kinda got over that, and I realised I was just chasing endless, meaningless pleasure that didn’t even feel good. And it really hit me. I’m Achilles, and you, Evan, you’re Patroclus.”
Achilles. Patroclus. Achilles and Patroclus.
Barty. Evan. Barty and Evan.
Evan wasn’t sure if he was truly alive, or awake, or if whatever he was experiencing was actually real. He didn’t feel alive anymore since his heart was still, and he couldn’t find air to breathe.
But then, he felt Barty’s fingers on his thigh. They dug into it, maybe unconsciously, but they dug nonetheless.
Evan cast a quick glance at the ring-covered fingers with chipped nailpolish on each nail. Barty bit his nails, he repainted them almost every other day, and it was really his hand, his fingers, on Evan’s thigh.
And suddenly, life was breathed back into Evan as he gasped for air. He realised why he felt like his heart had stopped when he felt it again. It beat so fast that Evan was sure it was making its way out of his sternum.
Too fast to feel, but hard enough that Evan still did.
“I’d love it if you said something right about now.” Barty chuckled weakly. Only then did Evan take in his face. His cheeks were flushing rapidly. He looked on the verge of bursting into tears. “Anything, really.”
“I don’t know what to say.” Evan whispered, his voice refusing to come out louder.
“Oh…so, you don’t like me?” Barty’s voice was quiet then as well. No, not just quiet. Small. Evan had never heard him sound like that. Barty was the definition of confidence. He didn’t feel embarrassed, he never cowered or backed down from a challenge, so to hear him like that, small, vulnerable…it broke Evan a little.
“No.” Evan rushed, he reached out. His hands cupped Barty’s face. There was still lipstick on his cheeks, on his neck. Evan wished he could rub it off because after that night, Barty would be his, no matter what, and no one would ever touch him again. “No, I do. I just…I’m in shock.”
“But you do fancy me?”
“Of course, I fancy you, you fucking idiot.” Evan leaned closer. His forehead fell against Barty’s. “I’m your Patroclus, am I not?”
“Aye.” Barty’s face lit up in a soft smile. “You are.”
Evan couldn’t resist any longer.
Heads tilted. Breath caught. Lips met.
Not hard. Not fast. Just soft.
Evan brushed his lips against Barty’s like he was approaching a wild animal. It felt like one wrong move, and he would shatter whatever reality he lived in. If he went too fast, was too eager, everything Barty had said would come undone, and he would just be boring old Evan again, who was no one’s Ancient Greek hero.
Barty kissed back. He leaned closer. His fingers curled in the fabric of Evan’s jumper. He pulled on him like he wanted it to be harder, faster, more intense. More tongue, more saliva, them ripping each other to shreds.
But Evan refused. His lips remained closed as he softly moved against Barty, who was forced to do the same.
And once Barty met Evan’s movements, it was perfect.
Evan had never believed there to be such a thing as outerbody experiences, but he was experiencing one right then and there.
Eventually, they broke for air. Evan was prepared for it all to disappear when their lips were no longer together.
Barty still clutched his jumper, the other hand still dug into Evan’s thigh.
“That was…” Barty let go of the fabric, running his hand through his hair. “Terrifying.”
“Terrifying?” Evan would describe their kiss as anything but terrifying. Wonderful. Life-changing. Perfect. Yes, all of those.
“Aye, new. Different. Strange, but not in a bad way. Just…terrifying.” Barty shook his head before he glanced at Evan. “I just realised with every second that I’ve spent years kissing half the bloody city, and not a single person made me feel like you do. And I never went for you because I was confused and scared and stupid.”
“Well, we’re here now.” Evan caressed Barty’s cheek. Barty placed his hand on top of Evan’s. “So be scared because I’m not letting you go.”
Barty’s breath hitched. Evan’s thumb rubbed against the stubborn lipstick marks because he needed them off.
Barty didn’t swat his hand that time; he let him work. Evan wet his fingers, and he rubbed them until there was nothing left but Barty’s red and irritated skin.
“There.” Evan placed a peck right over where he had rubbed the final mark. “All clean.”
“All yours.” Barty smirked. “Does this mean I get to sleep in your bed now after nights out?”
“That’s what you’re thinking about?” Evan snorted because he wouldn’t expect anything else. “Yes, it fucking does.”
“Well, should we move this to the bedroom?” Barty purred, his voice low and sultry.
“If you’re not too scared.” Evan mocked, leaning close to Barty’s ear. He brushed back a few strands before he whispered. “I’m going to love you like Ancient Greek heroes.”
And when Evan pulled back and dragged Barty up on his feet, his entire face was a burning red, and he stumbled after Evan like he had forgotten how to walk.