barty wasn’t typically one to bring home strays and by strays, you mean new members. but here he was, standing at the front door to the flat with a boy who looked no older than fifteen; an arm looped around the back of his neck.

barty had began to hang around the wrong crowds when he was a teen. it had lead him to becoming friends with all sorts of people who did all kinds of ‘under-the-counter’ jobs. you lived with him and his boys, and occasionally a couple girls when the boys when bring along new relationships.

barty and you had been dating since year eleven, and although the relationship had definitely not been smooth sailing, you two were happy. you lived in a dingy flat in a dingy part of town in love (for the most part), and that was enough.

the two of you were intelligent and had definitely not lived to your full potential. nonetheless, you applied your skills to your “work” and made sure that getting caught was out of the equation—new people didn’t guarantee that.

barty walked towards the center of the room, down the hall and into the living room where everyone was.

“who’s this?” a boy with sandy brown hair asked from beside you. barty smiled and gestured to the very-young-boy next to him.

“this—is Connolly”

people snickered at the name. it sounded posh.

barty shot you a pointed look, almost demanding you to introduce yourself and welcome the boy with warm, embracing arms. you had to trust barty’s judgement, which was hard because you usually stayed home and whatever you said mostly went.

“isn’t he a bit youn—“ a blonde haired girl with curls—a new relationship from one of the younger boys—quipped. you shot her a look and it shut her up.

i guess…giving barty the benefit of the doubt was the only way to respond.