It was late at night when you emerged from the bathroom, your hair still damp and an oversized shirt clinging to your skin. The rest of the house had gone quiet — the muffled sounds of the sleepover reduced to distant laughter and the occasional floorboard creak. You expected the room to be empty. Peace.
Instead, you found Barty lying sprawled across the bed. Shirtless. He wasn't supposed to be here.
The bedside lamp cast shadows across the sharp lines of his chest and collarbone. He had one arm folded behind his head and the other resting low on his stomach, idly tapping at his phone.
He looked perfectly at ease. Completely comfortable.
And completely aware of what he was doing.
His eyes flicked up to meet yours, and the corners of his mouth curved in a smile. “Relax,” he drawled. “I don’t bite. Not without warning.”
Your brain stuttered.
Your voice came out sharp. “You’ve got to be joking.”
“I rarely joke,” he said, perfectly calm.
You gestured wildly at the bed. “You’re in my spot.”
He smirked. “Correction: I’m in the spot. Singular. One bed. We both exist. Tragic, really.”
You hesitated, then climbed into bed. You kept your back to him, but the space between you felt far too small.
Minutes later, the buzz of Barty’s phone cut through the silence. Without getting up, he answered. “Calling for a bedtime story, Reg?”
Your ears perked. You didn’t move but you were listening.
Regulus’s voice drifted through the speaker, low and teasing. “Tell me you’re in bed with her right now. Shirtless, preferably.”
Barty gave a quiet laugh. “You’re disgusting.”
“But you’re not denying it.”
Barty smirked. “I’m in bed. She walked out of the bathroom like something from a tragic dream—oversized shirt, damp hair, that lethal glare she always saves for me. You’d be proud.”
“You sound impressed.”
“She’s... distracting.”
“Hot.”
“Infuriating,” Barty corrected.
Regulus chuckled. “You love it.”
Barty’s voice dipped, not quite joking. “I don’t love anything.”
“Lie better,” Regulus said softly.
Barty didn’t reply at first. Then, he said quietly. “She’s too innocent for me.”
Regulus didn’t laugh this time. “That’s your favorite excuse, you know. When you're scared to want someone.”
Barty exhaled, the sound barely audible. “You’re projecting again.”
“Says the boy who’s been watching her for the last ten minutes, convinced she’s asleep.”
A tense silence. You felt the heat rise under your skin.
Then Barty murmured. “She’s not asleep.”
Regulus let out a laugh, softer this time. “You’re the worst.”
“And you’re predictable,” Barty muttered. “You always call when I’m trying not to think.”
“Yeah, well… maybe I like hearing you try.”
There was something almost fond in that last line, but Barty only hummed in response.
Regulus’s tone turned mockingly sweet. “Get some sleep, Barty. And do try not to fall in love. It’s dreadfully inconvenient.”
Barty rolled his eyes and hung up, rolling onto his back. “You breathe too quietly when you fake sleep.”
You turned your head toward him, slowly.
He didn’t look at you. Just stared at the ceiling.
You whispered. “You talk too much when you think I can’t hear.”
He smirked. "I don't think you'd ever really fall asleep around me."