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They tell you that it is impossible to cast the avada kadavra without murderous intent, but Barty felt nothing as he uttered the killing curse. He wasn't sure he could ever feel anything again.
721 days, 4 hours and 39 minutes since he got the news of Regulus' death.
Two fucking years and some more. He honestly didn't know what he was doing here anymore. Why he was alive. What his purpose was. Who was he without the one person who had ever made him feel something real?
He stared silently at the corpse before him. A man in his forties, some stupid muggle he didn't even know the name of. The Dark Lord had wanted him dead and so he had killed him, because he had nothing better to do. He was soaked, like everything else. It was chucking it down in northeastern London and Barty's hair was clinging to his brows. He no longer had the green streak that he had sported for so long.
He tried to convince himself that he had wanted to kill him, but that wasn't true. The truth was that he wanted to feel that he wanted to kill. He wanted to feel something. Anything.
The anger he had nursed for so long was gone. He tried to reach for it and it wasn't there. Nothing was there. He was one big great stupid nothing.
"Why the fuck did you do this to me?" He laughed hysterically, tearing at his own hair.
He refused to look to his left where Regulus stood. He could no longer stand the sight of him.
His eidetic memory ensured that he was still as pretty as he once had been, at 17. It was Fate's cruel mockery to have him turn into one of his eternal schizophrenic hallucinations. Or was it? Maybe it was his phantom, or maybe none of this was real and he would wake up soon in a warm bed at Hogwarts with his— his— with him at his side.
A sharp flick of his wrist and the sky lit up with the mark of the Death Eaters. The skull felt fitting; that was all he had time to think before he apparated.
He landed in the room he now occupied. It was a small flat he had bought with Rosier money, since he and his father no longer were on speaking terms and he had been shut off from the old bastard's wealth. Evan had ensured he still had a place to stay, a bed and a soft pillow to rest his head upon. Or well, he had torn the pillow apart a week into getting the room. Now he slept on the bare mattress (when he did sleep, which was basically never); but it's the thought that counts, isn't it!
He was grateful, yeah he was, but he also hated him for trying to make him stay alive for another day. He hated everything and everyone nowadays.
"Avada kadavra!" he shouted hoarsely, casting the spell and sending deathly green light spilling out of his wand. The bookshelf with all its books and weird little trinkets from Pandora exploded.
Regulus didn't fade. Instead he appeared to be almost mocking him for his stupidity. His features had barely moved, but Barty could sense it still, it was there in the minute details of his face that he had learned to read so well.
"What do you want with me?! Confringo! Confringo!" What was left of the bookshelf was blasted away.
He sank to his knees, breathing hard as if he had actually fought someone. Tears gathered at the corners of his eyes, despite the fact that he hadn't cried for 721 days, 4 hours and 43 minutes and by now knew better than that.
There had been poetry books on those shelves. His books, the margins filled with his slanted cursive.
He hunched forward, the sobs escaping his wrecked throat. He gasped with them, feeling his damned ribcage fight for air even if he never wanted to take another breath again.
"Please," he whimpered, hating himself more than he had ever done before, "please, leave me alone. I know I begged you to haunt me once but I can't take it anymore. Please, Regulus…"
He put the wand to his head, heaving with his grief. It would be so quick. Only two words stood between him and death. He could be rid of this agony once and for all.
Frantic knocking startled him out of his spiralling thoughts. He lowered the wand as Evan burst into the room with the help of a quickly uttered alohomora. The relief was stark upon his face when he saw him sitting there on the floor in front of the exploded bookshelf.
The room itself was blurry to him with all the tears, but he saw Evan's figure approaching him and felt his touch as he brought him into a fierce hug. He let him, crying into his shoulder like a child.
"Please, make it stop. Make him leave me alone, I can’t— I—" He gasped, unable to think.
Evan hushed him before he could say anymore and tightened his hold. "He's not real, Barty, there's nothing there. You're just hallucinating."
He laughed hysterically.
"He is— he is. He's always here and he won’t leave me alone!" he shouted, pushing Evan away as he stood up again. This time he looked right in his ghostly face as he talked to him. "You bastard, tell me why you died!" He picked up one of the wooden shards lying on the floor and messily threw it at him. "Tell me how! At the funeral they said it was some terrible accident, but we both know that isn't true, and if you had died fighting then you would have been praised, so Regulus, tell me what happened that night! Tell me why you haunt me so!" He went forward to hit him square in the face but Evan managed to wrangle his arms behind his back and stop him.
"He's not real, Bee. Regulus is dead. He's been dead for two years. What you're seeing isn't real," he gritted through his teeth as Barty fought him.
721 days, 4 hours and 57 minutes.
He wanted to get to his star. He wanted to hold him, to touch his soft moonlit skin. He wanted Regulus to card his fingers through his hair and give him the distractions he needed to finally sleep.
It haunted him that he couldn't figure it out. It was as Regulus said, all that intelligence and yet you're so stupid sometimes, Barty. No matter which way he turned it he couldn't fucking figure it out. One day alive, the next moment dead, and he never none the wiser.
He hung his head and let himself relax in Evan's hold.
Once upon a time, he had believed that they were all playing some elaborate joke on him. When they said Regulus was dead he had laughed, because he was standing right there. He was talking to him. He could touch him. The frightful and pitying stares wouldn't cease though, and Evan kept repeating that his reality wasn't true. Since then he had begun to repeat it like a mantra in his head; the days, the hours and the minutes since Regulus disappeared. To remind himself that he was dead.
Sometimes it didn't work. Sometimes he craved him so much that he couldn't allow Evan's reality to be the real one.
Sometimes he truly didn't know. It was easy forgetting, when Regulus was alive and well and so close to the touch.
"Hey, you're alright. I've got you. Let's sleep, yeah? Let's lie down and get some shuteye," Evan murmured to him, slowly guiding him to the mattress with only a soft duvet and none of the pillows he once had had.
He lay down without explaining that it wouldn't matter. It was some comfort though when Evan slid in beside him, the warmth of his chest tangible at his back. He would stay. He wouldn't be alone with him.
He watched as Regulus lay down as well, only a few inches away, facing him. His eyelashes were so thick and dark, like a doll's. Barty's chest ached as he looked at him. He was so horribly beautiful.
He didn't know how much time had passed, but Evan's slow breaths behind him told him that he was asleep. Slowly he reached out and touched Regulus' cheek, exhaling harshly when he leaned into it and that small smile turned the corner of his mouth. He moved closer, wanting to breathe the same air as him. He wanted to be inseparable.
"You should sleep," Regulus murmured softly into the still night.
He grimaced, the tears filling his eyes again. "I know," he said, brushing his nose against his. He played with one of his raven curls for a moment before opening his mouth again. "But what if you're not here when I wake up?" he whispered fearfully. "I won't survive then."
Regulus raised himself slightly, kissing the tear running down his cheek.
"I will be. Why would you ever think that I would leave you?"
Barty felt his breath against his jaw and closed his eyes, but opened them soon enough again. Regulus was lying down now, staring at him with that dreamy grey gaze.
"I can't," he whined petulantly, putting an arm around him and pulling him closer. "I'm too aware."
He knew that Regulus would know what he meant. The hyper awareness, the feeling of his teeth and eyes and bones. He tried to focus on Regulus' warmth instead.
"Hey, it's okay. I'm here, I won't ever leave you." He relaxed as Regulus began to lightly and carefully scratch the hair at the nape of his neck. "Focus on this. This is real," he murmured to him, kissing him softly. Then, a soft whisper. "Sleep."
Barty found he had already closed his eyes, lulled into it by Regulus' soft words and touch. He felt his breaths slow and deepen, content with the knowledge that he was there, and would be there to hold him if he woke up from another nightmare again. Sleep came to him unknowingly, hastily, as he lay in the embrace of his favourite star.