Work Text:
Closing the door behind him, he didn't bother to lock it. He didn't know if he trusted himself in a locked room. "That was dramatic." A hollow laugh left his lips and he collapsed back against the door, his lips quirking in an almost smile. Evan was back, the world made sense again.
"Wanker."
He pushed himself off the door, wrenching open the medicine cabinet and reaching for the first bottle he could find. The pills were small, little white circles cradled in the palm of his hand that used to make him see stars. Now they just staved off the truth, let him linger in delusion. He swallowed them dry, it wasn't enough to fuck him up permanently. Just enough that he'd be able to see Evan again.
"Reg's pissed at me." Setting the bottle back down on the shelf, Barty closed the cabinet, dragging a hand through his green-tipped hair as a heavy sigh escaped his lips. "I threw a cup and fuck if it didn't make me feel like an arsehole."
It was funny, in a way. How much easier it was to be honest with Evan after.
"He's worried about you." Evan was a blurry shape in the mirror, not quite there, not quite solid. Wasn't that just fucking fitting? Barty tore his gaze away from the mirror, away from the almost Evan. Turning on the shower, he stripped off his clothes, letting them lay in a crumbled heap on the cold tile floor. He groaned as he stepped under the steady stream of water.
It felt like little needles pricking his skin and Barty tipped his head back, his eyes closing as the hot water ran down his ink covered body in rivulets of lava that forced his muscles to ease. "It's not like I'm going to do anything stupid."
All things considered, he was actually handling things damn fucking well.
He didn't need to see Evan's expression to know that he would be unimpressed. "Right, because hiding away from the world and drugging yourself so you can hold onto a dead man is the picture of positive mental health." There was something pointed in Evan's tone that made Barty want to snarl.
"You're dead, you don't get to judge me."
In a sick, twisted way, it was growth. It was the first time that Barty had uttered the words out loud. Look at him, he was totally killing it at the whole grief thing.
He scrubbed until his skin was pink, as if he could wash off the filth he felt clinging to him, dragging him down into the depths, beneath the dirt, to Evan. Barty would have let worms feast on him if it meant that he could press close to Evan again. At the same time, it was a relief that he had shut up and let Barty get on with it. Even if he had to peek around the shower curtain to make sure he was still there.
Evan was sitting on the toilet, leaning against the wall while he inspected his nails with that perfect air of boredom that had once driven him insane.
"You just going to ignore me now?"
Barty's stomach did a stupid flippy thing that might as well have been reflexive when Evan's eyes snapped up to find him. "Look, I get it, okay? I know you're not really here." Okay, fine, that was a lie. The jury was still out on whether Evan was a hallucination or a ghost, but either way he was there so Barty wasn't going to examine it too closely. Horses and mouths, or whatever.
"You spend most of our time together telling me to shut up or piss off."
"I wouldn't if you didn't keep bringing up shit I don't wanna deal with."
The prickle of irritation that stabbed at his chest was enough, this was almost enough. It was comfortable and familiar. It was them before they had become them and Barty was fucking starving for it.
Evan didn't rise to his feet, not really. Instead he was suddenly standing on the other side of the shower curtain, as if his movements occupied the space it took for Barty to blink. It was disconcerting as shit. "Spooky motherfucker."
The grin spread across Evan's lips was priceless. Raw and feral, and utterly his. "Monster fucker," came the amused reply. "You're so into me."
He wasn't wrong.
✨🌹✨
Tipping his head back against the cool tile wall, Barty let a sigh ease from his lips, closing his eyes against the spray pelting his face. "I am, yeah." He let the words hang, tugging back the shower curtain to smirk at Evan, ignoring the water that splashed out onto the fluffy bathmat. "What're you gonna do about it?"
If Evan's smile had been feral before, the way his lips curved up at the corners as he dragged his eyes over Barty's lanky frame was ravenous. Evan didn't need to touch him for Barty's cock to twitch in interest, he didn't need to be real to make him come undone.
"Well aren't you just a needy little thing." Evan's voice was a rich, low purr and Barty groaned as he let his hand drag over his chest, his palm roughly brushing over a rosy pink nipple that instantly pebbled at the contact. It had been too long since Barty had been fucked, having a dead boyfriend sucked like that.
Sure, he could have gone out, could have gotten blackout drunk and thrown himself at anyone who was willing to so much as look at him—man, woman, or otherwise, he wasn't picky. It would have been easy to shuck off his skin and slither into some faceless stranger. Instead, he stayed home and got high. Why the fuck not? It was the only way he could see Evan.
"Stay with me, Bee."
Barty let his head loll to the side to find Evan. Evan's icy gaze was fixed on him and he wondered if there had been so much as a moment when it had strayed. The vibrant blue had already been swallowed up by black, like twin chips of coal that threatened to consume him entirely.
"Why don't you make me?"
The familiar words fell from his lips and Barty pouted his frustration. Once upon a time, it would have been enough for Evan to shut him up, to jam his fingers into Barty's mouth until he was gagging around them, until spit dripped down his chin. Evan would have told him he was pretty for the tears that would have pooled in his eyes, before licking them off his cheeks.
Now Barty wanted to cry for a different reason, one that was decidedly less sexy.
"Show me how much you want it." Evan's voice was a low, breathy rasp that made the hairs on Barty's arms stand on end. "Come on, baby. Get those fingers nice and wet for me."
Barty groaned, squeezing his eyes shut as he lifted his hand and slid three fingers past his lips, shoving them in deep enough that his fingertips brushed his throat, tears pricking the corners of his eyes as he gagged.
"Easy now, baby." Evan's voice was closer now and Barty's eyes fluttered open to find him looming over him, pressed into the small shower so close that their chests nearly brushed together. Or they would if Evan was really there. "Slow it down, for me. Wanna savour you."
Barty swallowed around his fingers, drawing them back enough that the pads pressed against the flat of his tongue instead as he batted his lashes up at Evan in a rare show of obedience.
"That's my good boy, just like that."
Barty whined, a pitiful sound. He needed Evan to touch him, needed more, and his hips bucked forward against the empty air, desperately seeking friction. He wanted to touch himself, his skin was burning for it and he pressed back into the cool tile, letting the sharp shock of sensation ground him as he waited for permission to chase that beautiful edge.
Evan, ever the sadist, smirked as he leaned back against the opposite wall, his hungry gaze devouring the flush that had spread down Barty's chest. "Look how much you want it, dirty little thing. You're desperate for me, aren't you?"
Barty nodded, his lips parting around a silent plea as his free hand rose, his fingers tangling in his dark hair. He groaned when he tugged, the sharp pain sending icy sparks down his spine. He wanted Evan's teeth on him, he wanted to be marked by the other man until he wore a necklace of bruises that left no doubts about who he belonged to.
Pulling his fingers from his mouth with a pop, letting them trace a path towards his aching cock. "Please, Rosie…"
Barty had never been one to plead, it had never made a difference before and, as a result, the words had come to taste like glass on his tongue. However, Evan was different, he was the exception to an otherwise ironclad rule. With Evan, his pleas didn't just lead to casual indifference or the harsh kiss of pain.
Was it any wonder that the words left his lips so easily now?
"Go on, baby." Evan crowded close, his gaze dragging down Barty's lanky frame, his fingers twitching as if to reach for Barty himself. He wished that he could. Given half the chance, he would have cracked Evan's chest open, if only so he could burrow deep beneath his skin to make a home beneath his ribs.
He settled for curling his fingers around his cock instead, squeezing ever-so-slightly as he stroked himself languidly, a groan slipping from his lips as he began to fill out in his hand.
"That's it, sweetheart, show me how much you want it."
It was all the encouragement Barty needed to pump his fist faster, his lips parting around a raspy sound that reverberated off the tile around them when he swiped his thumb over the tip. He couldn't resist the urge to collect the pearly bead that had formed there, lifting his thumb to his mouth so he could press it between his lips. The salty-sweet taste of himself made him groan and he let it pool on his tongue. "Want you to spit in my mouth, Rosie."
The raw need on Evan's face was almost unbearable and he pressed closer, bracing his arms on either side of Barty's head to cage him in. Barty could imagine the feeling of Evan's breath ghosting over his skin and he tipped his head back to stare into his hungry gaze. "Look at you," he laughed, feeling more than a little satisfied when he bit his lip and Evan's eyes dropped to his mouth. "You look like you're gonna snap if you don't stick it in me."
"Careful, baby." Evan's voice was a dark growl of a thing that rumbled in his chest, his muscles coiled tight as though he were a hair's breath away from surging forward and consuming Barty whole. "I might not be able to touch you, but that doesn't mean that your pleasure isn't mine to do with as I will."
Fuck.
Barty's hand drifted back to his cock, before Evan clicked his tongue. "Not so fast, baby." It was tempting to ignore him, to stroke himself to completion, Evan's orders be damned. What was he going to do about it? Evan couldn't exactly drag him out of the shower by his hair and bend him over the sink.
"My poor, sweet boy." Evan's tone was laced with dark amusement and Barty shot a half-hearted glare at him, of course the sadistic fucker would laugh at his desperation. "You want it so bad, don't you? But not enough to take without asking, hm? Because you're all mine and you know it, even if that filthy mouth of yours is just begging to be punished."
The sound that fell from Barty's lips was just as desperate as any plea that might have formed on his tongue. "Please punish me, Rosie."
"Hands on the wall for me, slut."
Barty scrambled to comply, pressing his palms against the tile as he felt Evan close in behind him. A slow breath eased from his lips as he braced himself for a blow that never landed. He loved the way Evan could go from sweet to mean like that; as if he knew what Barty needed without him having to ask for it, as if he were something precious to be cradled in Evan's hands, right before he was shattered on the dirty floor.
"Such a good boy, now spread those pretty legs for me."
Barty bit his lip as he did has he was told, arching his back just so to present himself to Evan. The hungry groan that he earned for his efforts was enough to make his lips curve in a devious smirk and he wiggled his ass in a playful display that would have earned him a smack if—
No. He wasn't going there. Instead, he reached back to spank himself, the loud crack of his palm echoing in the shower stall.
"Did I tell you to move your hand, slut?" Evan sounded more amused than anything and Barty, unrepentant as he was, twisted his head to shoot an unapologetic smile over his shoulder. He couldn't resist the urge to drag his tongue over his teeth, before he caught his lip between them just to watch the way that Evan's gaze zeroed in on his mouth.
In the past, his disobedience would have come with consequences. Evan might have dragged him out of the shower by his hair and spanked him until his ass ached. Or maybe he would have buried his teeth in Barty's throat, getting himself off between his thighs while he breathed filthy things into his skin.
He wanted Evan to touch him, he wanted to feel the brush of his hand against his cheek, he wanted him to smooth his wet hair away from his face. Hell, Evan could have punched him and Barty still would have thanked him for it.
Barty's hips canted forward at the thought, his sensitive tip brushing against the tile. The cold friction made him hiss and he squeezed his eyes shut, returning his hand to the wall, his nails digging into the grooves between tiles for purchase. "I really want you, Daddy."
The world slipped from his lips unbidden and Barty sucked in a sharp breath, a rush of warmth coursing down his face to leave blotchy red marks across his cheeks and chest.
"Colour?"
"Green."
Evan's silence was a heavy thing and Barty whined as he rocked against the wall again. It wasn't the most comfortable sensation, but it was something. "I wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean it, okay?" The sharp edge that crept into Barty's voice should have been proof enough of how close he was to losing it entirely.
"Perhaps." The silence lingered for a moment longer while Evan's gaze bore holes in Barty's back, a scorching assessment meant to determine the truth of his words. "You're not going to call me that today, okay?" he said finally. "Not when I can't give you what you need."
Barty growled his frustration, his fingers digging into the grout, before he dropped his hands to his sides and turned to face Evan. He was beautiful. Water tracked rivulets down his chiselled chest, highlighting the meticulously sculpted definition of his muscles. Barty wanted nothing more than to follow each and every droplet with his tongue.
"Do we need to stop?"
It was maddening, even in death, Evan was a creature of control. Barty wanted to lose himself, to give in to the rush. To drown in sensation and never surface. So what if Evan wasn't around to provide the usual level of aftercare he needed after entering into a dynamic like that? As far as he was concerned, it was a problem for future Barty to deal with.
"No, Sir."
Maybe it wasn't what Barty needed, but fuck it if he wasn't going to take what he could.
Evan's smile was worth his grudging obedience and Barty let his hand slide down his stomach, his fingers flexing with anticipation. He'd just closed them around his aching cock when Evan clicked his tongue, his lips curving in a disappointed frown. "I didn't say you could touch yourself, sweetheart."
"Fuck, Rosie." The words tore from his lips in a desperate whine, his lean frame trembling, taut with need and frustration in equal measure. "Please. Just let me touch myself, let me cum for you."
Evan's head tilted to the side, his face an impassive mask, the carefully curated boredom in those sky blue eyes was enough to make Barty want to snarl like a wild thing. If he could, he would have buried his teeth into Evan's neck, digging deep until the salty tang of blood flooded his mouth. Instead, he raised a hand to his face, curling his fingers so he could dig his nails into his skin. He dragged them down his cheek, for no other reason than to relish the burn. It wasn't what he needed, not really. However, starved for sensation as he was, it was a start.
"Look at you," Evan hummed, his eyes sparkling with sadistic amusement. "Such a desperate thing for me, aren't you? But you know the rules, dirty boys don't deserve to touch themselves." He crossed his arms as if to punctuate the point, his lips curving deviously when Barty whined. "But maybe you can still earn it," Evan murmured sweetly. "Would you like that, slut? To show me how pathetic you can be for me?"
Barty groaned, his hips twitching as he pressed his back against the tile, breathing through the roar of his blood in his ears. "I hate you."
Evan's impassive facade crumbled, laughter rumbling in his chest. "It's such a pity I can't put a muzzle on that disobedient mouth of yours." Rather than lean closer the way Barty desperately craved, Evan stepped out of the shower, arching a brow at the broken sound that tore from Barty when he realised what was happening.
"It's okay, pet." The soothing tone was a balm to the panic that clawed at Barty's chest from the inside, like icy fingers that threatened to puncture his lungs. "I'm not leaving, I just wanted to get comfortable for the show you're about to put on for me." Evan sat on the toilet, his muscled thighs parting to give Barty a clear view of his cock. It was rock hard, sitting snugly in Evan's hand as he gave it a couple of languid strokes.
Barty's mouth watered at the thought of tracing his tongue along each and every one of the prominent veins running from the base of his shaft up to the plum-hued tip.
"Face the wall again, baby. I want to see you open yourself up for me."
"Fuck yes," Barty hissed, pressing his cheek against the wall as he braced a hand on the tile. He arched his back just so, smirking at the groan it dragged from the man behind him. He didn't need to see Evan's face to know that those beautiful eyes would be fixed on him.
He wiggled his hips from side to side as he spread his cheeks, holding himself open as he leaned more heavily against the wall. The bite of the cool tile as it kissed his nipples sent a jolt down his spine and Barty groaned as he squeezed his eyes closed, lifting his free hand to his mouth so he could suck on his fingers again.
"That's it, baby," Evan grunted and Barty had to press himself harder into the wall to resist the urge to turn around. "Show me how pretty you can be." It was all the encouragement Barty needed to curl his fingers into his flesh, pulling himself wider, his fingers slipping from his mouth with a wet pop.
Barty groaned as he lowered his hand behind him, swirling his slick index finger around the tight ring of his hole. He couldn't help but push, feeling the muscle strain when he thrust his finger in. "Please, Rosie," he gasped, gritting his jaw as he pushed deeper. "Wanna fuck myself for you."
"Slowly, pet."
Evan's soft hum made Barty groan again, a guttural sound that pooled in his stomach before it pushed up his throat to spill from his lips. He didn't want slow, not after the way Evan had already drawn things out. His cock was weeping, heavy and forgotten as it bobbed between his legs, but he resisted the urge to wrap his fist around it.
Instead he slid his fingers back past his lips, moaning at the musky taste that flooded his mouth when he dragged the flat of his tongue across his fingertips. "Such a good slut, tasting yourself for me." Evan's voice was a low growl and Barty didn't need to look back to know he was stroking himself. The knowledge that something as small as him groaning around his own fingers was enough to put that wolfish quality in the other man's voice was enough to make his cock weep.
Slipping his fingers back between his cheeks, Barty let them dance over his hole, his breath catching as he pulled himself open wider and dipped his finger back inside.
The sound Evan made behind him was enough encouragement for him to press deeper, a soft gasp leaving him as he pushed a second finger past the tight muscle. Barty's hips rocked forward, a hiss catching in his throat as the tip of his cock brushed against the cool tile once more.
"Good boy, just like that." Evan's encouragement was all he needed to dig deeper, working himself open as he humped the wall, the smooth tile almost enough to create the friction he so desperately needed.
He whined when he pressed in a third finger, the sound of Evan grunting behind him spurring him on as he rocked himself against the wall. "Please, Rosie, wanna touch myself."
He twisted his head to peer back at Evan, before he thrust his fingers deeper, arching his back as he angled them up towards the spot that would make him see stars. There was something about taking himself apart like this, like he was performing onstage for an audience of one. It was a heady rush that made Barty's blood sing in his veins, even as need coiled tighter in his stomach; like a dam that just needed one last push to burst.
He needed his hand.
"Look at my needy boy." Evan leaned forward, his thighs flexing as he continued to work his shaft. Barty could practically taste the pre-cum beading the flushed tip and he stuck out his tongue in a silent plea for more. For anything. "Greedy pet," Evan hummed, letting his thumb circle the thick ridge of his crown, a tantalising dance that smeared pearly liquid across his puffy tip. "Want a taste do you, sweetheart? Why don't you taste yourself for me instead?"
Barty didn't hesitate, groaning as he lowered his free hand to grasp his aching cock. He gave it a couple of quick pumps, his head falling back in ecstasy as he finally found the friction he'd been denied. "Fuck, I need to cum. Rosie, please." He squeezed tighter, the crush of his fist almost bordering on painful as he resisted the urge to chase the release he so desperately craved.
Evan clicked his tongue in a show of disapproval that fell flat compared to the hunger burning in his eyes. Every erratic rock of his hips were a clear indication of how much he wanted Barty to fall apart for him and Barty was more than happy to comply.
"Show me," he breathed, the words barely audible over the rush of the water. "Paint the wall for me, baby."
It was all Barty needed.
Gritting his teeth, he pressed his forehead against the tile, letting go of his cock long enough to spit on his palm, before he grasped himself again, thrusting his fingers deep into himself with each and every pump of his fist. He was vaguely aware of the pathetic mewling sounds slipping from his lips, but they were lost to the rush of the water and the blood pounding in his ears.
"Rosie…"
The word left his lips as a strangled plea, as a prayer. His hips stuttered forward, thick ropes of hot cum spilling across the tile.
"Fuck."
Evan grunted, his own release was dripping over his fist when Barty looked back over his shoulder to find his gaze with his own.
"Fuck."
He pumped himself through the come down, leaning heavily against the wall before he eased his fingers out of himself. "You liked that, huh?" A faint smirk curved his lips as he watched Evan lick the spend from his fingers. The dark gleam in Evan's eyes was enough to tell him that they weren't finished yet. "I wish I could clean you up." Barty's bottom lip jutted out in a pout, his gaze dropping to the mess covering Evan's fingers.
Evan's lips curved in a smile, sweet and loving, a stark contrast to his earlier hunger. "You forgot to taste yourself for me, pet." Barty's cheeks flushed, he had meant to, had meant to savour the moment. It was a shame.
Or so he thought, Evan certainly didn't look disappointed.
"It's okay, my sweet." The warm rumble of the laugh that fell from Evan's lips felt out of place, but it was enough to make Barty whine. "You still have to clean up your mess, don't you?" Evan's brow quirked, his head tilting to the side slightly as understanding washed over Barty.
"Oh."
The word caught on the sharp breath that punched from Barty's lips and he dropped to his knees, bracing his hands on his thighs as he leaned in and dragged the flat of his tongue up the slick tile. The contrast of cool ceramic and hot cum made him groan and Barty chased each and every streak like a man possessed.
It wasn't enough, not really. Not when there was so much more he could have done for Evan. But, at least for the moment, down on his knees where he belonged, Barty felt like he had some kind of purpose again.
Being Evan's; It was all he had ever wanted once he'd stopped fighting the instinctive urge to rally against anyone presumptuous enough to tell him what to do. And rally against it he had.
However, being owned by Evan was nothing like his father's particular brand of possession. No, Evan had taught him the difference between being owned as an object and what it meant to truly belong. More than that, he had taught him what it meant to trust, to relinquish control and let himself be held in hands that promised to never let him go.
Until they had.
Until the dream had crumbled and all that was left to him was a memory. The ghost that only came when he dosed himself up on pills, chasing Evan's imprint like an addict denied his drug of choice. For a frantic moment, Barty was tempted to chase the high, to let himself crumble and fall apart. Slipping through the cruel fingers of life to drip, drip, drip away. Like water flowing down the drain.
Because, for all that he wanted to pretend otherwise, Evan wasn't really there; he wasn't really attainable. Even if, for just a moment, Barty had been able to forget. To find his way home. It was incredible how fast he could fall, how quickly his euphoria could crash, leaving Barty breathless and broken at the bottom of the shower. A wounded sound left his lips and Barty scrabbled at his chest, as if he could somehow dig out the wounded, jagged thing inside.
"Hey." Evan's voice was gentle and he didn't quite stand, he didn't need to. He was just there, in the stall barely a foot away and yet so utterly untouchable. "I'm here, baby. It's okay. Stay with me, Bee."
"I can't…" Barty hated the way his eyes had begun to water and he dragged his arm across them, mixing water and tears until it was impossible to tell that he was crying. "I don't…"
"Colour?"
The question—its familiar place in their play—was an anchor. A way back from the void that threatened to steal him away.
"Green."
"There's my good boy." Evan's voice was a balm, it seeped into his pores and if Barty could have drowned in it, in Evan, he would have gladly given him his last breath. "You need to get up for me."
Evan might not have been able to hold him the way that Barty needed him to, but it was clear he wasn't about to let him spiral either. Pushing himself to his feet with a grunt, he dragged the back of his hand across his mouth, wiping away the last traces of what they had done; what he had done.
Because the truth of the matter, for all that his mind rallied against it, was that none of it was real.
Barty was alone.
"What if I don't want to?" He smiled, a faint curve of a thing that was undercut by the aching sadness in his eyes. He'd always been somewhat inclined to be a brat, to test the limits and push the boundaries of any kind of authority that sought to impose itself against him. Why should Evan be any different? Why should one man, no matter how wonderful he was, have the power to contradict the most fundamental nature of his very being?
It wasn't fair.
"You'll do it anyway." Evan's reply lacked any warmth, he was already spotty around the edges and Barty's lips tugged in a frown as he reached out to the other man, beckoning him closer. Evan didn't disappoint. He seemed to glide across the distance between them, until the tips of Barty's fingers passed through his chest. "You and I both know that you're not finished here yet, and I wouldn't want you to join me too soon anyway."
The hollow sound that left Barty's lips was closer to a sob than the laughter he'd intended. "This your way of telling me you're sick of me then?"
Evan's smile was a fragile thing and Barty wanted nothing more than to lift his hand and trace every line etched into his lovely face. Instead, he kept his hand where it was; his fingertips puncturing Evan's chest to find nothing more than empty air. Barty would have ripped Evan's heart out if he could, he would have carried it with him like the twisted souvenir of a love he couldn't bear to part with.
Or maybe he would have eaten it, just to take Evan inside him one last time and carry a little piece of him around with him forever.
"Never." There was a steely undercurrent in Evan's voice the left no room for argument. "Oh, Bee, there were many things in this world that I struggled to tolerate. But you? You were the only thing that made sense."
Barty hated it when he did that, when he spoke in past tense like it was already over.
The sound of footsteps in the hallway jolted him back to reality. Regulus' presence was an unwelcome reminder that the world didn't really begin and end with Evan Rosier.
And what a cruel thing that was.
"Don't say shit like that." Barty huffed a sigh, letting his hand fall back to his side as he retreated under the steady stream of water. It was rapidly losing its warmth, but he barely registered the chill sinking into his skin. "I just… I can't, okay? Not now. Not after we just..." He was fine, they were fine. So what if Evan was dead, they were figuring it out.
Sure, it wasn't ideal, but what relationship didn't come with challenges?
"Okay." Evan held his hands up in a placating manner, but his expression was anything but passive. Barty was so sick of people looking at him like that, like he was some fragile thing that might break. It was part of the reason he'd holed up in their flat since That Night. "You're right, that wasn't fair. Sorry."
Apologies were new to both of them. They were just another of one of those things that had always sort of gone unsaid between. Back when they'd still had all the time in the world to get around to them
✨🌹✨
Fuck. Why couldn't they just stay like this?
Barty's fingers shook as he turned off the water. Regulus was waiting for him, Regulus was worried about him. Barty was a lot of things, most of them could probably be found in the pages of whatever the current DSM was. But he was loyal when it came to his people and Regulus was his person.
He would have died for Evan, would have thrown himself into his grave and let dirt fill his lungs. But for Regulus, he would live. He refused to be yet another person who left him behind.
He just needed to figure out a way to keep them both.
It was for Regulus that he got out of the shower and towelled himself off, leaving his dirty clothes in a pile to be dealt with when he could be bothered. It was tempting to throw out every item of clothing he owned and start again, it would certainly have taken less effort. If he asked, Regulus would buy him whatever he wanted—guess there had to be some perks to your boyfriend dying on you.
He rolled his eyes at his own stupidity as he left the bathroom.