| Rosekiller Microfic | Word count: 894 | This is the first thing I've written in a while that's actually short enough for me to consider it a microfic! |

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“Regulus!” Barty yelled from across the dorm. Regulus had just closed the door behind him, but he was already contemplating walking out again, because he wasn’t in the right mood to deal with whatever had Barty opening and slamming the doors to his night stand so desperately. Really, he reminded him of a raccoon who’d lost some piece of trash they’d wanted and was now rifling through a dumpster in the hopes of finding it again.

Maybe he could just leave Barty and his oddities to Evan today?

One look at Evan’s bed told him that wouldn’t be happening. Evan had his glasses on and a book in his lap, and he was completely engrossed. He hadn’t even looked up when Barty had yelled Regulus’s name.

Regulus sighed. “What, Barty?”

Barty poked his head up from where it had been practically buried in the bottom drawer of his stand. He really did look like a raccoon. 

“Did you eat my last chocolate frog? I can’t find it.”

“No,” Regulus said, because it was true. He had his own stash of chocolate frogs hidden away from both Barty and Evan, he didn’t have any need to steal theirs. Although, just because he hadn’t taken it didn’t mean that no one had.

“Have you checked with Dorcas?” he asked. “She has a pretty bad sweet tooth, and she comes up here often enough to have taken it.”

They both knew there was no point in questioning Pandora, because she didn’t “believe” in chocolate, said it was very obviously the leading cause of dragon pox, and no one could convince her otherwise. Despite the fact that any of them had yet to contract dragon pox, of course.

Barty straightened fully at his words. 

“I swear to Merlin, if she took my last chocolate frog—” he cut himself off, perhaps thinking of an appropriate retaliation. “If she took it, I’m going to murder her. No, wait, I’m going to murder Marlene first while she watches, and then I’m going to murder her, and get the information to her Gringotts account, and buy myself a thousand chocolate frogs with her gold, and then I’m going to—”

“What in Merlin’s sweet name are you even talking about, Bee?” Evan interrupted incredulously. He’d finally looked up from his book, tuning into Barty’s rant at possibly the worst time, and Regulus could tell he had zero context for why Barty was so mad.

“He lost his chocolate frog, and he thinks Dorcas took it, so naturally he’s threatening her entire bloodline, of course,” Regulus supplied helpfully. Barty turned a nasty glare on him, which he ignored.

Evan’s expression turned sheepish. He looked at Barty and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, opening his mouth. 

“Er, sorry, but that might’ve been… me?”

Barty blinked dumbly. Regulus could only imagine the kind of betrayal he was feeling and was mentally preparing himself for flying insults and accusations and threats, or potentially even a physical altercation. 

But it didn’t come.

“Did you at least save the card?” Barty’s voice was surprisingly calm, given the way he’d been so mad at the mere idea of Dorcas stealing his chocolate just moments before, and it felt like Regulus was experiencing whiplash.

“Nah, it was just Dumbledore, so I figured you wouldn’t want it.”

Barty shrugged. “Well, in that case, then I guess it’s fine.”

Fine? He’d just been ranting about how he wanted Dorcas dead for such an act, but now that he knew it’d actually been Evan, it was fine? If he were the type of person who wore his heart on his sleeve—which he was very much not—then he was confident that his jaw would be hanging open, practically lying on the floor.

The same floor that Bart was now padding over, making his way to Evan’s bed as easy as could be.

“Anyways,” Barty said, “what’re you reading?” 

Evan smiled at him, the special smile that Regulus had come to notice he only ever aimed at Barty. “It’s a Muggle book that Pandora got for me. I think she called it a “murder mystery,” or something. You’d like it.”

“In that case, can I… ?” Barty gestured vaguely towards the bed, right next to where Evan was sitting. He had hardly even pointed before Evan was shifting over and allowing him some space for Barty to clamber up, any and all chocolate frog-induced rage long forgotten.

Once he was settled there and tucked into his side, Evan started thumbing through the pages. 

“I’ll go back to the beginning, so you know what’s going on,” he murmured. 

Regulus got the distinct feeling that he could catch on fire and neither of them would notice, too wrapped up in each other to even look up. 

It. Was. Ridiculous. Absolutely, one hundred percent, ridiculous. If both Barty and Evan couldn’t figure out what it meant that Barty had absolutely flipped his lid about the chocolate frog, instantly deflated when he found out that Evan was the one who had actually eaten his chocolate, only to then cuddle up in bed with him, then Regulus couldn’t help them.

They’d have to figure it out for themselves, he decided, and began getting ready for bed, casting disbelieving looks at Barty and Evan while he moved about the dorm. 

They didn’t move an inch the entire time.

Ridiculous, Regulus thought.

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Exchanging Potions

Word count: 1,902

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Summary:

Barty made an impatient gesture.

“Give me your cauldron,” he instructed.

Evan just stared at him. Barty stared back, not budging an inch.

“What do you mean, “give me your cauldron”?” Evan finally asked.

Barty huffed. “Rosie, don’t make this difficult, just let me—”

“Whatever you’re thinking, it’s a bad idea.”

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Or, the one where Barty switches his good potion with Evan's bad one, because that's what good "friends" do.

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New Rosekiller fic from yours truly!

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Word count: 1,961

Summary:

“So, you guys here on your anniversary trip or something? How long have you been together?”

Evan choked on nothing.

Meanwhile, Barty burst into laughter.

“Sorry,” Evan managed, face burning. “We’re not, uh, we’re not—”

“No?” The lift operator’s eyes widened in embarrassment. “Sorry, I guess you just seemed like a couple. I don’t know. Sorry.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it.” Barty said, throwing a jovial arm around Evan’s shoulders and pulling him in tight with zero regard to Evan’s feelings about it.

Then, in true Barty fashion, he said something that made Evan choke on nothing for the second time in a single minute.

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| Rosekiller oneshot | Word count: 1,172 | Happy New Year’s! | I’m really happy with this one, even if it was written at 2 am and probably has more mistakes in it than my fics usually do lol :) |

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Hufflepuff parties were notoriously loud and boisterous, and there was never any fear of having no one to talk to for how friendly everyone was. Gryffindor parties were bold and exciting and pushed just past the lines of what was allowed, fast-paced and always the talk of the school the following day. Ravenclaw parties were practically nonexistent, but Evan was sure that they had their moments, as rare as they might be.

But not a single one of them could compare with the party that Slytherin put on every single year to celebrate New Year’s. Slytherin had, without a doubt, the largest common room out of all four houses, made all the bigger by the removal of excess chairs and furniture. Chandeliers had been spelled by seventh years to hang above the crowd and cast everything in a glittering glow, and even the giant windows looking out into the lake had been charmed to show a beautiful night sky. It was rumored that at midnight, they would show. massive display of fireworks, though Evan wasn’t entirely sure how true that rumor was.

“Evan,” sang a smiley Barty, putting a strange and yet familiar feeling in Evan’s stomach when Barty swayed closer to where he was standing. “Been enjoying the champagne, then?”

He nodded towards Evan’s hand, where he held an almost empty glass that had previously been filled by a generous, if not shady, seventh year who had supplied the entire guest list with a bowl of champagne and spiked punch. Evan wasn’t much of a sucker for the sticky sweetness of the punch, but he had always enjoyed his fair bit of champagne at family galas.

“You know it,” he responded easily, and downed the small amount still in his glass in one gulp. “Never mind that, how are you enjoying the party?”

“Oh, it’s fine,” Barty brushed off quickly. “But look, I have a proposition for you.” He paused, only continuing at Evan’s raised brow. “It’s just, Cas has Marlene, and Pandora’s got Lily, and even Reg has Potter to kiss at midnight, and that leaves us two alone and miserable. So why don’t we just… kiss each other?”

It was said oddly, halting at some points and rushing at others, and though he could still make out what Barty was saying, it was hard to comprehend.

“You want to kiss me… at midnight? So you won’t be lonely?”

“That’s the gist of it, yeah,” Barty said, biting at his lip and rocking on his heels. “I mean, if you’d rather not, that’s fine too, I just thought—”

“No, wait, give me a second to think first.”

Barty’s mouth shut with a snap, giving Evan some much needed time to consider.

The easy thing to do would be to say yes and be done with it. Because hadn’t he always wanted to kiss Barty, to know what his lips felt like against his own? Wasn’t he dying to know what he was missing out on, and wasn’t this the perfect opportunity to finally find out?

The easy thing to do would certainly be to say yes.

But Evan’s blood was singing in his veins, and he felt bold as he stood there with the empty champagne glass in his hands, liquid bravery holding true to its name.

“Come up with a better reason.” The words fell off his tongue with a strange ease, delightful and terrifying all at once. He even laughed at Barty’s bewildered expression, that’s how free he was.

Forget the champagne, this newfound boldness was his chosen drink for tonight.

“I don’t understand,” said Barty.

Evan didn’t hesitate. “If you want me to kiss you, then change your reason for having me do it. Me being your only option isn’t a very compelling argument.”

Barty stared at him. Evan stared back. This was it, this was them hurtling towards a line that couldn’t be uncrossed. It was the type of thing that would typically have Evan running for the nearest exit, but instead he stood there, unrelenting while he let the tension build and Barty reach his own private realization. It took a beat, but because Evan was looking so intently at Barty’s eyes—he loved Barty’s eyes, he would always love those eyes—that he saw the idea hit them, widening slightly as it happened.

“Yes?” Evan prompted, seeing that Barty wasn’t eager to make the first move.

His voice must’ve spooked him, somehow, because Barty looked down at his toes shyly.

“I think—” he began, then lowered his voice to an unintelligible mumble.

“Sorry, didn’t quite catch that,” said Evan. He took a daring step into Barty’s space, so close that there was hardly enough room for Evan’s champagne glass in between their two bodies. Every last nerve Evan possessed lit up at their closeness.

Barty’s eyes were startlingly fierce, determination glinting in their green depths when he whipped his head up in response to Evan’s movement, the boldness in the gesture a stark contrast from the timidness from before.

“I said,” Barty enunciated, grabbing Evans’s glass and shoving it into some poor passerby’s hand, “kiss me for the sake of kissing me, kiss me because you want to, kiss me because I want to kiss you back.”

Evan didn’t hear the noise of protest from the recipient of the champagne glass, he didn’t hear the countdown from ten begin to start, and he sure didn’t hear Pandora’s squeal of excitement or Dorcas’s and Regulus’s amused snorts as they took in their two friends.

All he heard was Barty’s quiet exhale as he stared at him, eyes wide and mouth parted in anticipation of Evan’s response.

“Now that,” said Evan, “is a much better reason.”

His smile was so wide it hurt, but it didn’t prevent him from curling an arm around Barty’s waist and pulling him closer and closer and closer yet, until they were pressed together.

He and Barty had clicked instantly the first time they met. They had simply gotten each other with an ease previously unbeknownst to either of them, and it had been addicting. And standing there together, years later, Evan was confident that they had never understood each other better than they did right then.

“Happy New Year’s,” he whispered as the countdown hit zero.

“Happy New Year’s, Ev,” Barty whispered back.

The way their lips met was surprisingly soft for something so inevitabile. Barty’s lips against his own felt right, like they were made to fit there and there only, like he and Evan were a matching set that were never meant to be sold apart. It was soft and somewhat tentative, but it was absolutely perfect.

It felt like standing on the edge of a cliff, it felt like looking down at the ocean below, it felt like jumping. It was everything and nothing all at once, and Evan only wanted more.

It felt, he thought, as fireworks lit up the false night sky just outside the window, like a new beginning.

Cheers to a new year, he supposed.

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Fall Break — Part 3

| Rosekiller microfic | Word count: 888 | Part 2 is here |

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“We’re really not like that–” he began, but she interrupted.

“Do you know what the first thing you started talking to me about was when I first called you this semester? It wasn’t how you were liking your classes, or whether or not you had a nice dorm, or even how you had seen some cute girl at the coffee shop down the corner or something along those lines–no, it was how you and Evan had been up late the night before, too busy talking and doing whatever it is you boys do to go to sleep at a normal hour. And there was that time I FaceTimed you only for Evan to pick up, apologizing on your behalf for being unable to talk, seeing as you were passed out in his arms on the couch together. And that time I came down for the weekend to surprise you for a visit, and I ran into Dorcas outside of your hall, who very politely informed me that I wouldn’t be able to see you right at the moment because you and Evan had gone out to eat together, and that time Regulus was teasing you in the background when you were on the phone with me about how you barely had time to keep up with your classes anymore because you were too busy keeping up with Evan, and really, Barty, are you sure that you two aren’t actually dating?”

Barty sat there, dumbfounded. How his mother had managed to notice specific instances of all those little things that had somehow worked their way into his and Evan’s relationship unbeknownst to either of them was beyond him, but here she was anyway, standing in the kitchen and forcing him to see his friendship with Evan in a new light.

And upon further inspection, Barty found that he had to admit his mother had a point. He and Evan weren’t normal friends. Normal friends didn’t sleep in each other’s bed every other night, normal friends didn’t want to be in each other’s company every second of every hour, and normal friends certainly weren’t too busy with each other to even think about dating someone else.

Memories came unbidden to Barty’s brain. The people all over campus telling Evan and him that they were a cute couple, only to be laughed off hysterically. Barty whining about having no love and Regulus jokingly suggesting that he simply start dating Evan since it would be so easy, except now that Barty thinks about it, it hadn’t really sounded like Reg was joking. The pact he had made with Evan to marry and move in together if they were still single by the time they were thirty five, and the little seedling of hope in Barty’s chest that he had thought so odd. The fact that multiple people had broken up with him because he was, in their words “too close to Evan” to truly be close with his partner like he supposedly should be, along with the fact that people had done that to Evan, too, for the same reason.

And yes, they were good friends. They had always had a nice, very platonic friendship that was just… very, very close at the same time. That’s how Barty had always viewed it. But if he took a step back and tried his hardest to think about it from an outsider’s perspective, things looked a bit different. And maybe the reason he had never tried looking at it from an outsider’s perspective before was because deep down, he had known what he might find.

His mother was still quietly looking at him, a knowing glint behind her eyes. Barty was half hysterical as he made eye contact, his mouth wide open in disbelief and his hands gripping his mug much too tightly.

“I,” he said, and stopped. He tried again. “I have to, uh, I, call… Regulus. Yes. I have to call Regulus.”

He nodded shortly as if to seal a deal, and the corner of his mom’s mouth twitched. He was thankful that she didn’t say anything, though, instead choosing to nod understandingly, giving him free reign to stand up and frantically pull up Regulus’ contact on his way out the kitchen.

He hit the call button as soon as he was out of earshot. His foot tapped an inpatient rhythm against the hardwood floor, just barely enough to accent the ringing of his phone, but there nonetheless.

“Regulus,” he said as soon as the call connected, not even waiting to see if Reg was actually even listening. “I need your help.”

Regulus was silent except for a long-suffering sigh that filled the space between them, but Barty didn’t stop to acknowledge his friend’s familiar impatience. Instead, he took a deep breath to prepare himself, then blurted out in one huge, potentially catastrophic jumble of a sentence, “Am I or am I not kind of unknowingly dating Evan?”

The sigh Regulus let out once more was so weary that Barty wondered at how he didn’t have wrinkles yet, if he was truly feeling that old. Still, the wayward thought was not enough to cause him to miss Regulus’s very much exasperated earth-shattering response.

“Finally,” he said, somehow sounding relieved and annoyed all at once. “I thought neither of you would ever realise.”

-

(The End!)

Fall Break — Part 2

| Rosekiller microfic | Word count: 493 | Part 1 is here |

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“Huh?’ he asked stupidly once he had secured his hot chocolate once more. “I don’t have a love life, Mom.”

She shook her head vehemently. “Utter nonsense. Don’t think I’d believe that for one second, with how often you talk about him. My, the way you go on about that boy sometimes is truly impressive–”

“I’m sorry, who?” Barty asked, but she wasn’t listening, carried up in her whirlwind fantasies of some non-existent significant other Barty had.

“–and don’t get me started on the amount of times you talk about him like he’s hung the moon and stars and all the planets in the galaxy–”

“Mom, I don’t what–”

“–and you two go on dates all the time, don’t think I don’t know that–”

“Mom, who are you even talking about right now?”

His raised voice finally seemed to get through to her, as if his bewilderment had finally reached a point where it warranted halting in her rant.

She blinked slowly in disbelief. “Barty, you know who I’m talking about right now.”

Barty just took a long sip of his drink in response, raising his eyebrows pointedly by way of saying “Please do fill me in on this so-called boyfriend of mine, Mother.”

She evidently understood what he was trying to communicate by staying silent, because she sighed and set her cup down on the table with an exasperated thud.

“Why, I’m talking about Evan, of course.”

Barty spewed his hot chocolate all over the counter.

“Barty!” his mom exclaimed, but he wasn’t about to let her get away with this one by lecturing him about his manners.

“I’m sorry, but have you lost your mind? I am not dating Evan!”

If Barty were anyone else, he maybe could’ve found the situation amusing–here they were in the kitchen, hot chocolate all over the counter as his mom stared at him with those wide eyes of hers, and while he in turn stared back at her with a gaping jaw. As it was, however he was too caught up in his bewilderment to find his sense of humor.

“Evan is my best friend, Mom, definitely not my boyfriend.” Barty is pretty certain he would’ve noticed if he and Evan were casually dating, seeing as they saw each other every second of every day.

His mother looked taken aback. “Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure,” said Barty. “I definitely would’ve noticed that, if it were a thing.”

Really, there was nothing at all confusing about their relationship. They were just two guys who happened to never want to let the other one out of their sight, and was there really anything wrong with that? That just spoke of how close of friends they were.

His mother’s squinted eyes had him questioning his entire life. “Barty, believe me when I say that this is said with love, but would you really notice? Like really, truly think on it for a bit, then get back to me.”

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(The link to part 3 is not working for whatever reason, but it is on my page if you want to check it out)

Fall Break — Part 1

Rosekiller microfic | Word count: 643 | Part 1 of 3 | We’re finally back after a very long and much needed break :) | Have Barty and his mom being sweet | Btw this was definitely supposed to be finished last week but (ironically) Thanksgiving got in the way |

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Barty dropped his bags by the door, kicking his shoes off. It felt good to be back on familiar territory, in this place where he had spent all his Thanksgivings since he was a young child. The floorboards still creaked the same, the door opened with the same amount of slight resistance, and his shoes still slotted easily onto the rack just like they had when he was a kid. For that reason, and perhaps that reason only, he would never not be grateful that his mom had gotten the house in the divorce. Because despite all the subpar memories Barty had in this house, he couldn’t imagine not getting to come back here for fall break.

But even the nostalgia of seeing the old house again paled in comparison to his mother’s beaming face when she rounded the corner to see Barty standing on the welcome mat, still in his coat as she wrapped him in a crushing hug.

“Hey, Mom,” Barty squeaked out. His smile hurt his face, it was so wide.

His mom pulled back, giving him the chance to see her beautiful dimples and shining eyes. “Welcome home, Barty.”

Barty couldn’t say anything for a bit. His throat had closen up, because he still remembered how things had been around this time last year, with his dad fluctuating between icy cold silence and floor-shaking bouts of yelling that had his mom aging another year everyday. To have her looking so young and happy once more was really all that Barty had hoped for when his father had finally moved out, and so he could do nothing but stand there with her like that for a second or two, just soaking up being in each others presence once again.

“Dear me,” his mom exclaimed, interrupting the moment, “I almost forgot that I had hot cocoa on the stove!” She turned before he could get more than a confused noise out of his throat, but she didn’t leave without tangling her hand in Barty’s to pull him down the short hallway and into the kitchen. “Take a seat, take a seat,” she said, making sure he was comfortable before making a beeline for the oven. There, a small metal pot sat, overflowing with dark brown liquid that had clearly been boiling over for some time now. Barty’s laugh bubbled up out of him before he could stop it.

“Oh hush, you,” his mother teased, but there was no heat behind it. “You better be nice to me, or I’m not going to let you have any.”

“You wouldn’t,” Barty responded. His cheeks were beginning to ache from smiling so much, which he really didn’t mind, if he was being honest.

His mom waved a hand at him but didn’t argue, too busy fluttering around the kitchen and pulling out two mugs to pour the hot chocolate in. Barty watched on in amused silence as she tried in vain to not spill anything before eventually giving up and ladling it out into the cups, the cup scraping across the counter as she slid it to him. She chattered away all the while, asking him about everything from how his studies were going to how Regulus was faring in such a different environment compared to his old, private college. Barty responded easily, comfortable from his perch on the counter stool while he filled his mom in on everything new with his life.

Barty had just finished talking about how Regulus seemed to be doing just fine with the adjustment, considering he was now talking to James Potter of all people, and was busy picking up his drink to take another sip (because it was actually quite delicious, despite his earlier misgivings) when she hit him with the real kicker.

“Okay, okay, enough about Regulus’s love life–what about yours?”

Barty almost dropped the mug.

-

(Part 2 is here)

keep up the good work everyone 👏

sad rosekiller but make it the unsent project

Hey everybody, just wanted to let you know that due to personal reasons, I’m going to be stepping back from running this account for an undetermined amount of time. I might still post here and there, but the most it’ll probably be is around three times per week. I’m not expecting for it to be this way for much longer than a month or so, but as of right now I’m not really sure how things are going to pan out and so it’s possible it could be longer. Just know that I do want to come back, and I do want to be able to post more, but as of right now I’m just unable to.

I’m sorry for all this, but I hope everyone can understand and be gracious as I work through some things.

Thank you all so so much ❤️

| Rosekiller microfic | Word count: 834 | Inspired by this post of mine |

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“Hurry it up, Evs,” Barty called over the edge of the roof, peering down at where Evan was climbing out of the Owlery window. Evan’s movements were practiced after years of having snuck out in the same way, and even though he was much bigger than he had been when they had first started doing this, he made it out with ease.

“Don’t rush me, or I’ll lose focus and fall all the way down,” Evan responded before grabbing the lip of the roof and heaving himself up and over.

Barty could hardly stop himself from rolling his eyes as Evan gained his footing beside him.

“Please, you could do that with your eyes closed.”

“Yes, well,” said Evan. “You’re very distracting sometimes, you know that?”

Barty’s cheeks flushed, but he blamed it on the chilly wind that whipped through the points and valleys of the castle roof.

Then, with a cheeky smile, Evan was moving, carefully climbing down the steep and shingled slope to get to their spot.

Barty had found it in second year after a particularly bad day, in which McGonagll had passed back assignments and he had been greeted with a nice fat 82%. He’d never hated anything more, because he was a Crouch. He should have performed better, should’ve gotten an one hundred and then some.

Luckily, Barty had fixed that way of thinking in the time since. Partially due to Evan, who always, without fail, followed Barty whenever he disappeared in order to make sure he was okay.

That simple fact was why Evan was the only other one who knew about this spot. And of course, Barty still liked to come here after bad days, but as of the last couple of years it had become more of a hangout place just for the two of them.

It was Barty’s favorite place in the entire school.

Evan’s cheeks were flushed as he turned back to face Barty and ask, “You coming?”

His eyebrow raised in that familiar expression of his that Barty loved so much. Merlin, how did Evan not know?

“Yes, I’m coming,” Barty responded with a grin. He didn’t look where his feet were going before he stepped, much too intent on taking in Evan up here in the chilly October air, his own version of Evan that no one else would ever get to see.

Their knees knocked together as they sat down on the edge, feet dangling in open air. When they were younger, they had been separated by several inches, but they had slowly moved closer and closer until they were sharing each other’s warmth and breathing each other’s air. Barty tried not to read into it too much.

“I’ve got a present for you,” Evan said suddenly, turning to look at Barty. He reached a hand into the pockets of his robe, fist curled tightly around it to keep it from view. Not that it stopped Barty from craning his neck to try and see, though.

“Don’t get too excited,” Evan warned, but it was too late. Barty already loved it, whatever it was. Not that he knew what the occasion for it was, or could even foster a guess.

Evan motioned for Barty to hold out a hand, and Barty dutifully obeyed. A smile spread across his face as Evan dropped a familiar-looking box into his outstretched palm.

“A chocolate frog?” asked Barty, smiling softly back up at Evan.

“Yes,” Evan said, and didn’t elaborate. Barty waited.

“Fine,” Evan sighed, perhaps knowing well enough by now that Barty was more than content to wait and hear his thoughts. “It’s just, I read about this thing that Muggle kids do on Halloween, where they dress up in little costumes and go around to different houses. And there’s something about how if they do a trick, they’ll get a treat.” He nodded to the chocolate frog in Barty’s hand, which had been temporarily forgotten about in favor of looking at Evan as he spoke.

“Anyways,” Evan continued, “I just thought, since we never really got to have anything like that, it’d be kind of… nice. To have something, I mean.”

It was nice, Barty thought. They’d never really gotten to have much of a childhood, and both of their parents wouldn’t have let them be caught dead doing a Muggle tradition. So Evan purposely going against that to give Barty a little taste of that life they’d never get to live, well. It warmed him from head to toe, even with the cold breeze blowing around them.

Except…

“I didn’t do a trick, though.”

Evan just shrugged. “The world’s tricky enough already,” he said. “I don’t see why we should have to make it even trickier just to get a treat.”

Barty smiled, even though it made his frozen cheeks hurt. And as he sat up on that roof, eating the treat Evan had given him, he couldn’t decide which was sweeter—the chocolate, or getting to be there, right by Evan’s side.

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