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Chapter Text

It's been two weeks since the last time Evan saw Barty. 

Whatever happened in Bali between them was ignored and buried alive just as Barty wished for, and Evan didn't have a good excuse to see him before now, since their crafted schedule had been designed already and Barty would sense if Evan lied simply because he wanted to see him. 

He still doesn't know if Bali was a good idea or a horrible one. Whatever attraction he hid from Barty was put into the spotlight in the trip, and Barty wasn't far off from what Evan was feeling. He could feel their mutual attraction like a third presence between them, but Evan would never choose to do something if Barty didn't allow him to. And he didn't. 

Evan could see little by little an invisible burden heaving Barty down. He never met someone so uncomfortable with being himself as Barty, and the more Evan saw him as a real person, the more Barty became skittish and distant. He started to drink one cocktail after the other like Evan wouldn't notice, he deflated between conversations and got a faraway look on his face while he played with his mom's necklace. But when anyone else looked at them, he would smile, put up a show and laugh like nothing was wrong. It scared him how quickly Barty could turn into another person when he wasn't being himself, like he was so disconnected from his real essence that becoming someone else was a muscle memory. 

Barty is hiding something. Maybe something from Evan or from himself, he's not sure. But there's too much pain in his eyes, a mess of broken glass he didn't try to clean up and still gets cut by it. Evan didn't think he was going to say that after meeting Barty for the first time, but for someone so sharp, Barty is soft on the inside. 

He represses too much inside of himself, and from the moment he realized he desired Even in some capacity, he tried to be detached from it, like he didn't know how to deal with something as simple as that. 

Evan knew when he made his peace with his attraction for Barty that he could never be the one to take the first step. He was paying him for a job, he was already the one with too much power in his hands and he wouldn't be like the others. Barty wanted him to be, maybe to prove something to himself, maybe because it was what he was used to, but he said to Evan in the middle of the dancefloor that he wished he paid him for sex, because Evan thinks Barty would be more comfortable with that than with whatever was going on with them in Bali. And Evan wonders how someone could be more comfortable with having sex for money than being truly attracted to someone, with the opportunity of choosing to have sex because you want it, with talking with them instead of playing a part. 

And he can't help but think, what happened to Barty? 

What's the story that can make Evan make sense as to why Barty's so sick with the idea of being himself instead of an idea? That can explain why he'd prefer to be paid to have sex instead of choosing to have, to be attracted to someone he actually wants and it's not just a job? That can explain why he's so opposed to being human? 

Evan knows he could've argued, tried to show Barty how their attraction wasn't fake and promised Barty to take care of him, to not be like the others. But it didn't seem fair to try to make Barty change his mind. He wanted to keep himself safe, out of Evan's reach, and Evan couldn't take this away from him. If Barty ever changes his mind, Evan will be there, but it has to be his decision if they can be more than just a contract. If Evan can be more than just a client for Barty. 

He wanted to keep them as a job, so Evan didn't try to be anything but that. 

If he tried to make him change his mind, he wouldn't be much different from the other men in Barty's life, trying to take a real piece of him. 

Evan doesn't want to take anything, he wants to be offered parts of Barty, not steal them. 

Though he knows his attraction and curiosity towards Barty didn't go anywhere, he'll respect his wishes and keep things professional. He still has many things he wants to ask Barty, to understand him, but he won't dare to prove to Barty he was right in being wary of him. 

They'll see each other again for an auction Barty will go as his date, and Evan is at least relieved they had two weeks to go back to the polite and distant relationship they had on their first date, the one Barty dodged his questions and made sure Evan couldn't see anything too telling under his walls. Evan is not sure how he can take a step back after they had such a short, yet deep and intimate, time in Bali. How he can forget Barty's eyes when they're filled with lust, how his body feels glued to his, or how his waist feels under his palms. He feels like he already knows too much to come back to before, yet Evan still knows nothing. It's complicated and confusing, but much like Barty, Evan is a good actor. 

Good enough to pretend the brief time they had together doesn't keep him away at night with body burning and running fantasies going through his mind. 

He's in the middle of getting ready when his phone starts vibrating, and he feels his body tense when he sees it's his mom. 

She barely calls Evan, and Evan barely calls her, but when she does, she normally will cause a fucking mess. 

He takes a deep breath before answering, knowing it'll be worse if he doesn't. 

"Mother."

"Evan," she greets, her voice already irritated. 

"What can I do for you?" He asks her easily. It's been five months since he last talked to her, and the conversation wasn't really pleasant because Evan told her he wouldn't be present at her birthday party this year. Worst decision of his life. 

"Can you explain to me why Bianca Vanity knew about my own son dating someone new while I didn't?" She asks him, making Evan close his eyes and curse under his breath. "She asked what I thought about your new boyfriend and I looked like an idiot because I had no idea what she was talking about!" She screams in his ear. "I'm your mother and you couldn't tell me you're dating someone new? After everything you put me through with the failed engagement?!"

"It's pretty recent," he tries to placate her. 

"Yet, Bianca Vanity knows and I don't," she snorts. "Do you know how embarrassing it was? To realize you were hiding this from me? To learn from her that you took him to Bali with you?" 

He's thinking about firing Emma for having such a big mouth. Evan knows Emma for a long time, way before she started to work for him, their moms are in the same book club, and though Evan's relationship with his mom is nonexistent, he forgot that Emma is very close to her own and has a loose mouth. It barely crossed his mind she could tell her mother about Barty. 

"I wasn't hiding—"

"Oh, please, Evan," she cuts him off with a scoff. "You were. Just like you hid the end of your engagement. Just like you hide everything from me. Haven't I suffered enough? What do I have to do to be included in your life?" 

Evan doesn't try to argue with his mom, anything he says can be turned against him. She's a master in making all about her and painting Evan as the villain. She never calls, doesn't remember his birthday, didn't raise him, barely talks to him and knows about his life, but it's always Evan who's the bad son, who doesn't call or care, who hides things from her and shuts her off from his life. 

So he keeps his mouth shut, because even if he's almost thirty, his mom still makes him feel like a child. Like when Evan used to reply and she would thin her lips, turn her back to him and give Evan the silent treatment. It was his punishment for her own ego, if Evan wasn't quiet and pliant, then she didn't want him around. 

"I want to meet him." 

No. 

Fuck no. She can't meet Barty for a ton of reasons, he doesn't pay Barty to meet his problematic mother for once and he'll be fucking mad at Evan for suggesting such a thing. Evan doesn't want Barty around his mother because she's— She's not someone you want around. And if he knows her, he'll know too much about Evan and this part of himself it's not one he wants Barty to see. 

"I don't think that'll be possible, mom," he tells her as gently as he can. But it's in vain. With her, it always is. 

"I'm your mother! I deserve to know your boyfriend," she complains. "Why can Bianca Vanity know about him but I can't? Are you ashamed of me or something?" 

"No, mom, that's not—"

"I want to meet him," she demands. He hates when she feels entitled to his life, and the worst part it's that she barely cares about meeting him, she's just with hurt pride because she didn't know while other people did. "If you don't introduce him to me, I'll find a way to meet him on my own terms," she threatens him. 

And he knows she will. Fuck, she'll go after his entire life and meddle to meet him, because she thinks she's superior and it's okay for her to do it. 

Barty wants his privacy, but his mom won't give a shit about it and she'll try to poke him to show Evan she can. It'll be like a way of punishment, and Evan knows her well enough to think she won't do it. 

"Only you," he finally decides. "I don't want Alfonso meeting him."

"He's too busy, anyway," she says. "I'll be in Cornwall on the weekend, come have lunch with me and bring him."

"I'm not sleeping there," he warns her. "We'll have lunch and then we're leaving." 

Evan will probably kill himself if he has to spend the entire weekend with her. 

"Fine by me, you're always quick to part your ways from me, I'm used to it," she says as a jab. "At least this time you're showing up," another one. 

"I already apologized, mom," he says tiredly. But apologies are never worth enough to his mom, she can make tons of mistakes, but if Evan makes one in a lifetime, she'll use this against him all the time. 

"Apologies won't change a thing, will they?" She humphs. "Be there by twelve o'clock."

"Okay," he sighs. "I have to go now." 

"Won't you say that you love your mother?" 

"Love you, mom," he says emptily. 

She doesn't say it back before she ends the call, and Evan suddenly feels very tired. His mom has this effect on him. 

Growing up, Evan never understood quite well why she never bothered to ask him questions, in spending time with him when it wasn't for her own gain. He never understood why his tears meant he was out to get her, or why she always had to cry louder if he was upset because her pain was more important than his. All his life, Evan got used to being quiet and submissive because then his mom didn't view him as a villain. She was filled with ego and superiority, but if you pointed that out she'd break and make her pain everyone's problem, including Evan's. She would shut down because she knew her silence hurt him more than her angry words, and at some point Evan just got used to the silence, learning little tells that kept his mom away. 

Now that he's an adult, it's easy to keep his distance, and since her entire life it's in Monaco now, he barely sees her. He prefers it that way, his mom is too much to deal with and she refuses to admit she has a problem. Evan's life doesn't have a space for her, and besides some calls throughout the year and her annual birthday party, Evan doesn't see her at all. She's his mother in name only.

He tries to shove it all down, getting ready so he can pick Barty up.

God, Barty. 

He has no idea how he'll convince Barty to come with him to Cornwall, and Evan knows that making up a lie so he can't go will make everything worse. His mom won't understand, she'll make a big problem out of it. He knows the best solution is to make sure the encounter happens because then she'll lose interest quickly, but if he delays the meeting, she'll get offended and make it Evan's problem. 

He tries not to think about it while he drives to the street Barty sent to him, the one that's not his real street. 

Evan wonders if someday he'll tell Evan where he lives. 

He's already there when Evan parks the Maserati, looking fucking pretty in a dark burgundy suit and black silk buttoned shirt. He enters the car quickly, his nose a little red from the cold wind. It's almost spring, but it's still cold enough to not make Barty shiver with only a suit jacket. 

"Hello," Evan greets him. 

"Hi," Barty barely looks at him, like if he does, all hell will break loose. 

He's not sure what he was expecting from seeing Barty again, but Evan wasn't expecting this tense and awkward mood. After they danced in the club, Barty avoided him the best he could without making it look like something was wrong. He stuck to Mary and Lily, drank too much to look like he only wanted to have fun and slept on the way back to the hotel. He was hungover the next morning when they flew back to London, sleeping for almost the entire flight and being dropped at this same street when they arrived. 

Maybe he should've expected things to be awkward. Liking or not, Barty shared a vulnerable part of himself with Evan in Bali, and now they're pretending it didn't happen. He's not even sure if he would let Evan approach the topic without snapping. 

"How have you been?" He decides to ask. 

"Good," he says easily, finally turning his head to look at Evan. 

Evan missed his pretty face, but he finds himself yearning for the deep desire he got used to seeing in Barty's eyes when directed to him, not this blank version where he doesn't let anything out. 

"You?" He asks him back. 

He wished he could tell him he couldn't stop thinking about him. About what happened on the trip. The way Evan held him, touched him, saw a part of him. But he can't, because this is just business.

"Good," he repeats Barty's answer. "Shall we?" 

"Sure," he agrees, resting his back on the seat. "Want to tell me what tonight it's about?"

"It's an auction organized by Amelia Bones, her family is very aligned to art and she organizes them every year to raise money for a non-profit organization she rules," he explains, starting to drive. "Amelia is very nice, her older brother not so much, he can be a prick and he rarely realizes."

"Great," Barty mutters under his breath, watching the window. "Who do I have to impress?" 

"No one in particular," he tells him. "Most people there know Rabastan, and rich people like to gossip, so we just need to make it believable. We don't need to stay long, the auction will probably start early, we can leave once it's finished and avoid the after-party," he explains. "But…" Barty snaps his head to him with his hesitance, like this is worthy of paying attention. "Rabastan's brother might be there."

"Ah," he smiles, unamused. "Is he going to be a problem? Do I have to put up a show for him?"

"I don't think he'll care much about you," he tells him honestly. "He'll say whatever he wants to make Rabastan pissed, even if he doesn't speak to you at all for the entire night. They have a competitive relationship," he says carefully. "They're pretty close, but they're always competing for things, so when Rabastan eventually loses, Rodolphus finds some sort of contentment with this."

"Did they ever compete for you?" Barty asks, arching his eyebrow.

"Not really, but Rodolphus did make casual remarks about me being with the wrong brother," Evan comments, something he never said to Rabastan himself. Not because he was thinking about it, Rodolphus is handsome much like his brother, but he was too boisterous and self-centered, and Evan didn't want to cause a rift between the brothers. Rabastan loves his brother, even if Rodolphus doesn't respect him enough to keep this sort of comment to himself. 

"Makes sense," he comments, almost to himself. 

"What does?" 

"Why Rabastan was so interested in me and made Severus size me up," he replies. "He's used to being spoiled and competitive. Doesn't like having his things taken away from him because his brother did this to him for his entire life." 

He can't deny Barty is right. Rodolphus was always smarter, liked and popular, Rabastan got used to his shadow and once he started to have his own things, he felt entitled to them. 

"I guess," Evan doesn't confirm or deny. "I'm only warning you because he can be a little… Over the top. But he won't be rude to you." 

"I'm used to rude men," he waves him off easily. "Just keep me company and we're fine, I don't like being on my own in places like this."

He wants to ask why, but he knows Barty won't answer. 

"Fine by me."

They fall into silence and Evan's skin itches under his Tom Ford. Before, he wasn't so self conscious about talking to Barty, but now it feels like they drew a line on the sand and Evan is too afraid to cross it. Now, he thinks he saw too much already and can't go back to ask meaningless things to him, so he keeps himself quiet, feeling like they're offbeat for the first time since he met Barty. 

He doesn't tell him about his mom and what he needs to ask him, knowing it's better if they talk about it after they're done with the auction, since Evan is sure Barty won't like it. 

The auction is being held in one of the Bones' huge manors, decorated specifically for events like this, a huge fountain in front of the enormous house with columns and big windows. The valet parks Evan's car while he guides Barty inside, giving off their names and entering the manor easily. All people are dressed in elegant clothes and expensive jewelry, with a flute of champagne on hand while they talk politely to each other. The first floor is entirely designed for events, two enormous ballrooms on each side and the big stairs in the middle where they're holding the auction, now closed and being watched by security. Classical music plays around the place, the two bars with people waiting for their drinks while others are sitting at circle tables placed close to the small stage to watch the pianist and the violinist playing.

It's all very fancy, and quite honestly, boring. 

Evan places a smile on his face while he guides Barty through the ballroom to his left, his hand itching to touch him properly on his lower back, but Evan only allows his hand to hover against it. 

Barty grabs a glass of champagne and holds himself easily among the people, relaxed like he's not in the middle of a shark tank. It still amazes Evan how good he can pretend to be anyone, the perfect, doting boyfriend, the eye candy in Evan's arms, the elitist, the polite, the elegant— Barty has too many faces, but none of them are his real one. 

"Are there politicians here?" Barty asks him. An odd thing to ask. 

"Not that I'm aware," he replies. "Amelia mostly invites old money and some promising new business partners for her family." 

"This place reeks of fakeness," he comments quietly, looking around like he's analyzing a battlefield. Strangely enough, Evan thinks he fits here. Much like everyone else, Barty is playing a part, but he's too smart and sharp to fall for the fakeness of it all, seeing under the glamour easily. He's used to being chased by the sharks, Evan realizes, and he got quite good at deceiving them.    

"It does," he agrees easily, spotting Amelia's red hair between the guests. "Let's greet the hostess," he nudges Barty to follow him. 

He puts a grin on his face, walking to Amelia, her hair in a loose updo, a few strands escaping, the cherry red of her hair matching her green dress. 

"Oh, Evan!" She greets him excitedly, giving him two airy kisses. "Thank you so much for coming."

"Wouldn't miss for anything," he says smoothly. Evan is also very used to playing a part in events like this, he knows how to smile, how to be charming, how to make himself look interesting and at ease. "Thank you for the invite, as always, you outdid yourself."

"Wait until you see the pieces I managed this time," she winks at him. Then her head tilts and she looks surprised for a second, gaping at Barty like she can't believe it. "My my, Evan, and who's this?" She asks curiously. 

"Amelia, this is Barty, my boyfriend," he introduces them. "Barty, this is Amelia Bones."

Barty smiles at her dazzling, a hint of mischief and flirting on the edges, looking like he's the main character anywhere he goes. 

"It's a pleasure to meet you," he tells her. "Your gala looks stunning, much like you, I must admit." 

Amelia giggles, offering her hand to Barty so he can kiss it, looking at Evan amusedly when he indeed does. 

"Oh, Evan, where do you keep finding those?" She asks him. "Such a pretty boy," now she turns to Barty. "I hope you enjoy the party."

"I will," he winks at her. 

"I'm leaving you to it, you must have other guests to greet," Evan tells her. 

"We'll talk later," she says, smiling. "Don't get late to the auction in a few minutes!" 

"Of course," he agrees, already moving. "Excuse us."

He manages to leave Amelia, already engaged in another conversation, and Barty downs his champagne quickly, like he's bored already and needs something to do.

"Ready to make meaningless conversation?" Evan asks him quietly. 

"Why else would I be here," he sighs before opening a winning smile on his face, holding Evan's bicep and blinking his beautiful eyes at him. "Lead the way, darling." 

And Evan knows Barty is on the way to doing his job flawlessly. 

It's distracting, how he holds Evan, smiles at him and laughs at his comments in a group of people like Evan always makes him laugh no matter what he does. He introduces Barty to important businessmen and elitist wives, and all of them swoon at his feet, enchanted by his charm and blinding smiles. Wanting a piece of him. Barty acts like he's used to it, barely cares that everyone who stops to pay attention to him looks at him with too much interest. 

Evan feels protective of him, for some reason. Like he needs to hide Barty from this hungry powered man and envious woman, all ready to reach out and take a piece of him as a reward. It makes him think about how many times he was in this position, being held by a rich man and shown around, playing someone that everyone wants to pay attention to. Evan senses an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach, thinking about what Barty is doing for him, what he's paying him to do, and wondering how Barty can do it. To put himself in this spot like it's easy to put on a mask. 

Evan is not a stranger to pretending, he grew up in those places, surrounded by people like this, but he can't imagine it's comfortable for Barty to be surrounded by vultures. 

They all love him, more than they ever liked Rabastan. Rabastan knew what to say, but he was never this charming, this easy to fall for. Barty bewitches everyone around them but Evan… Evan realizes he doesn't like it. Not because they are paying attention to Barty but because it's not the Barty he's used to. The one that can change moods quickly, surrounds himself with barbed wire and cuts people with his thorns, who has difficulty in being himself and can't swallow his own desires easily. 

He knows this in his arms is the Barty he needs to get back at Rabastan, but it's not the Barty Evan wants. 

They leave one more group of people, and before anyone else can get to them, he stops Barty, turning him so they're face to face. 

"What?" He demands, forcing his face to relax though he can see that Barty is actually tense with Evan's attention on him.

"You're used to parties like this, aren't you?" He asks him, quietly so no one can hear their conversation. 

"Define used," he says nonchalantly. 

"You know how to act, what to talk, when to laugh," he points out. "You're not uncomfortable or lost. Which makes me wonder when, exactly, you had access to parties like this. You made it sound like you were never brought to places like this to be arm candy."

"I didn't," he replies easily. "No one ever paid me to be somewhere like this, you're still the first one, darling," he says the last part with mockery. 

Evan holds his cheek with his palm, not wanting to think why he does it, but he drinks up the hint of instability in Barty's mask when his breath falters slightly with the touch. 

"When?" He asks softly. Wanting to understand. To know how. "You're a good actor, but I can see you're used to this scenario. So when?" 

"Mind your own business," he finally snaps, making a move to turn his head to the other side, but Evan stops him, needing to see something truthful in Barty even if it's his anger. 

"I'm just asking a question," he mutters, looking directly at his eyes. 

"And I don't want to fucking answer," he smiles sweetly at him, making it seem to outsiders they're having a pleasant conversation. 

Evan finally lets go of him, but with Barty's reaction, he thinks it doesn't have to do with his job but something else entirely.

Barty grabs another flute of champagne, drinking everything at once like he needs to find a fix. He wants to point out he's always drinking around Evan lately and maybe he should slow down, but before he can, a voice he knows all too well stops him. 

"Evan Rosier!" It's said with excitement. 

He turns his head, smiling forcedly to Rodolphus Lestrange as he makes his way to Evan. 

Rodolphus looks a lot like Rabastan, same tall build, brown skin and pointed nose. But Rodolphus is bulkier than Rabastan, his hair shorter and his eyes darker. Still, he's a very handsome man, just like his brother is. 

He pulls Evan to a hug when he's close enough, giving him a slap on his back like they're long-lost friends. 

Evan didn't talk to anyone in Rabastan's family after the end of their relationship, they were all a bit too posh and stuck up, but they always treated Evan wonderfully, certainly better than his mom ever treated Rabastan. They invited Evan to family trips, to holidays and talked to him about his company. They're not a perfect family, but they were always more family to Evan than his actual family. He didn't just lose Rabastan when they broke up, but everything that Evan gained when he was with Rabastan as well. He wouldn't say he loves the Lestranges, but he got used to being a part of them and now his place is being filled by Callum.

"Hi," he says, "How have you been, Ro?" 

"Me? I'm grand," he smiles at him, breaking their hug. "But I miss you, brother-in-law."

"Not anymore," he tells him lightly. 

"You'll always be the only brother-in-law in my heart, fucking Cal has nothing on you, Rosier," he messes his hair almost affectionately. "We miss you." 

"I'm sure you do,"  he nods, swallowing the lump in his throat that makes him remember everything that changed in the past months. 

They hear a throat scratching, and Evan turns around to see Barty watching the both of them with something calculated in his eyes. He holds Evan's hand, bringing him close to himself and away from Rodolphus. 

"Aren't you supposed to introduce me to people, darling?" Barty asks him with a fake pout. 

"Right," he nods, a little confused with this reaction. "Barty this is Rodolphus. Ro, this is Barty, my boyfriend."

"Boyfriend," Rodolphus repeats, looking really fucking curious and surprised. He then pays attention to Barty, and Evan doesn't like the way his eyes turn into something interesting, looking Barty up and down and morphing his smile into something almost predatory. "I didn't know you were available, Evan, seems like I lost my shot," he says jokingly. "Mom still wanted you as her son-in-law." 

"Ah, you're a Lestrange," Barty snaps his fingers like he just remembered something. "Knew the name was familiar."

"Evan didn't talk about me?" He puts a hand on his chest. "I'm wounded, Ev." 

"He knows about you alright," he snorts. 

"Bast knows?" He asks Evan, though he doesn't take his eyes off Barty. 

"I'm not sure," Evan shrugs. "It's not like we talk much, is it?" 

"Severus knows," Barty tells him innocently. 

"You know Severus?" Rodolphus sounds surprised again. 

"Evan took me with him to Bali," he rolls his eyes fondly. "A business trip, so Severus was there, sure. Just between us, Evan is kind of obsessed with me."

Evan smiles at that, because even though he's just saying that for show, he's not wrong. 

"I can see why," Rodolphus comments under his breath, his eyes lowering. 

"Eyes up, Rodolphus," Evan tells him easily, though there's a bite in his tone. 

"And possessive too," he adds, smiling wolfishly at Evan. "Bast will flip his shit," he laughs, like he just won something. "This is what he gains from dumping you. I told him he was making a mistake, but it seems like he's too late to try to get you back, huh?"

Evan tries not to react to the implication that Rodolphus tried to make Rabastan change his mind, that there was a possibility of Rabastan going back on his decision. But would it make a difference? He betrayed Evan and broke his heart, there's nothing left for him anymore and no space in Evan's life. Whatever chance he had, he doesn't anymore. Not after he sent that fucking wedding invitation. 

"Way too late," Barty tells him. "You can tell your brother he lost. I won."

"The kitten has claws," he says impressively, a grin on his face. "Are you open for a fun night with three?" He asks, half joking, half meaning. But by the interest he's showing to Barty, he knows it's more genuine than a joke. 

"Rodolphus," Evan grits out. "No."

"Doesn't hurt to ask," he shrugs, fixing his suit. "You nailed with this one, Ev. I would be proud if I didn't know Rabastan will get fucking crazy when he knows."

"Not like he has a right to get crazy," Evan comments. "He broke up with me and is getting married in a few months, isn't he?" 

"So you received the wedding invitation, after all," he mutters. "Fuck, Bast is a fucking asshole, I told him he shouldn't send it to you."

"It's alright, we're going," Barty promptly says. "There's no reason for tension, we can be mature about it, can't we, Rosie?" He asks Evan sweetly. 

"Of course," he nods. "It's Bast's decision, I'm sure everything will be fine."

"I'm really sorry for what he did, Ev," Rodolphus says, and it sounds genuine. He can be a prick, but he also can be nice in a few moments. "It wasn't fair to you and you deserved better than how things ended."

"You don't need to apologize on your brother's behalf, Ro," he tells him, uncomfortable with this whole thing. It feels a bit nice to know Rodolphus doesn't support what Rabastan did. That they didn't sit in a circle to laugh about how stupid Evan was. That no one was making a mockery out of his feelings. "Things ended up how they were supposed to, and it brought me Barty," he looks at Barty, not even completely pretending to be smitten by him. "So maybe I should thank him for dumping me," he jokes. 

"I know I do," Barty mutters, smiling softly at him, completely the opposite of the animosity he was sporting before Rodolphus came into the picture. 

"Aren't you two cute," Rodolphus comments, making them break their eye contact. "I'm happy for you, Ev. You deserve it, truly. My brother didn't deserve you and it shows," he scoffs. 

"I agree with you," Barty smirks. "You're definitely the smartest one."

"The better looking as well," he winks flirty at Barty. "I guess I'll see you at the wedding, then?" 

"You will," Evan nods. 

"Alright, take care of yourself, Ev," he gives a tap on his shoulder. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Barty," he picks Barty's hand and gives a lingering kiss at it. "Gentleman," he nods before walking away. 

They stay in silence for a few beats before Barty drops his hand and huffs. "He has issues."

"He's too flirty for his own good," he comments. "He already has two divorces on his belt."

"Because he has too much love to share?" Barty arches an eyebrow. "I know his type."

"What's his type?"

"The one that thinks too much with his dick and thinks everyone wants to suck him off," he says. "It's a little shocking he never openly made a move on you."

"He does love his brother," he tells him. "And I would've said no."

"Even after he just dumped you for another guy?" He asks him. "Fucking his brother would be a better revenge than getting yourself a hotter boyfriend."

"Not my style," Evan says. It didn't even cross his mind, and though he was broken and mad, Evan wasn't cruel enough to step so low. 

Barty looks at him with something in his eyes, making sense of something that's just understandable inside of his head. 

"You're too nice," he ends up saying. 

"Why does it sound like a bad thing?"

"He stomped all over your heart, probably cheated on you and sent you the fucking wedding invitation," he lists, and Evan feels like Barty just punched him. "Still, you refuse to be cruel about it. And the worst part is that I believe you did love him, so it's not because you were apathetic to it."

"Hurting him wouldn't make the pain lessen."

"But it would make you feel a little better," he rebukes. 

"Would it?" He laughs humorlessly. "It wouldn't give me any satisfaction." It wouldn't bring him back to me. 

"Hitting back it's not the worst you could've done," he comments. "I think you're just not used to fighting back. Maybe he knew that too, and that's why he did all of this."

Unfortunately, Barty is right. Evan fought back at some point, until he realized it was pointless. Fighting back didn't earn him his mother's love, or Rabastan's love, or anyone's, to be honest. Fighting or not, Evan was never seen or heard, so he just gave up. 

"I wasn't aware we were on the day to analyze me." 

"Not so nice when it's done to you, huh?" He smiles bitterly at him. "Let's go upstairs, the auction will start soon." 

And just like that, the topic is closed. Barty goes back to pretending, but Evan feels himself elsewhere. Months before when Rabastan left and he was alone, thinking about everything he could've done differently, but knowing fighting for him was out of the question. Evan wasn't going to fight for someone who discarded him so easily. As soon as Rabastan said he was leaving him for Callum, Evan knew he was a wine-stained shirt he couldn't wear anymore. If it was anything else, maybe he would try. He would be pathetic for him. Fight for him. Try to rebuild their relationship. But not when he chose someone else over Evan. 

And though he didn't fight back or choose to be cruel about it, he knows that Barty is the worst kind of payback he could offer to Rabastan. Because it's the one where he shows him that Rabastan broke him, but Evan moved on to something better nonetheless. Barty is Rabastan's payback, even if he's fake just like the illusion that Evan is fine after what he did. 

The rest of the auction flies away smoothly, Barty gets bored, but he does his best to pretend he's not, reading about the pieces being auctioned and asking Evan questions. 

It ends well, and they say their goodbyes as soon as the auction ends. Barty is in no mood to talk, his eyes heavy with sleep and the amount of champagne he drank, so the drive back to his it's quiet, but not uncomfortable somehow. The air between them changed from when they were going to the gala, now it's a silence that agrees they're not awkward or tense, just tired and in their own heads. 

When Evan parks in front of the building he drops Barty off, he knows he needs to tell Barty about his mom. It's Thursday, so Barty has only tomorrow to be prepared and he knows that dropping the bomb just a few hours before won't help his case. 

"We need to talk about something," Evan says, Barty looks at him with curiosity in his eyes. "You won't like it."

"What a good way to start it," he mumbles. "What is it?"

"I need you to meet my mom," he says quietly. 

Barty says nothing for a few seconds, just staring at Evan like he heard it wrong. 

"Excuse me?" 

"My mom wants to meet you."

He laughs, then. Shocked and discredited. "Fuck off, Evan."

"I'm not joking," he grips the wheel tightly. 

"No," Barty says. "What the fuck? No. I'm not meeting your fucking mom."

"Barty—" he starts, already sighing, but Barty cuts him off. 

"Save it, I don't care," he shakes his head. "This is becoming out of line. I agreed with going on fucking dates, and you took me on a week trip to Bali already, now you want me to meet your mom?" He sounds mad, all of a sudden. "This isn't what we agreed on. It's too much. Do you hear me? It's too much. And for what? Fucking with your ex's head?" He scoffs. "This was a mistake."

"Calm down."

"Don't tell me to fucking call down!" He snaps. "You want me to meet your mom," he sounds almost out of breath. 

"I don't," Evan denies. "But I'll need you to, yeah."

"Go fuck yourself, I'm not meeting your mom," he denies. "Why did you tell her about me?"

"I didn't," he breathes out. "I wouldn't. I don't want you to meet her as much as you don't." 

"Because I'm a fucking whore and why would you want someone like me around your precious mom, right?" Now he sounds pissed again. 

"Stop twisting my words," he grunts. "Can you listen without cutting me off?" 

"Fine," he grits out. 

"Emma's mom goes to the same book club as my mom. Emma probably said something about us to her mom, which was completely my fault for not telling her to keep it quiet. And her mom commented about it with my mom because she assumed she knew," he explains. "And now she's pissed because she didn't know beforehand, so she wants to meet you. It's my fault, I'm sorry."

"It is your fault," he agrees. "Nice explanation. Still no."

"Barty," he grunts, rubbing his eyes. "You need to go. Please."

"No."

"You don't understand," he pleads. "My mom— She feels entitled to my life, okay? And she's feeling entitled right now. If you don't go, she's going after you on her own terms. And I know you're hiding something from me, but if we don't go on our own terms, I'm not sure I can protect you from her. Because she might go after you to punish me."

"Is your mom a fucking psycho or something? Just say I'm sick, I don't know."

"It won't work," he sighs. "The more I deny her what she wants, the more she'll get offended that I'm not doing what she wants. If we go, she'll lose interest as soon as you get there. I promise you she won't try to get to know you, she wants to feel like she's not being snuffed out of my life." 

"She won't ask questions?" 

"No."

"Not even about us?" 

"No."

Barty frowns. "I'm not sure I get it."

"She wants to see you, know about you, but she doesn't want to know you," he explains. "Really, it'll be easy, just go with me and every time she tries to ask you something, say anything and ask her back the same thing. Just make her keep talking about herself and agree with anything she says."

"What is she? A fucking narcissist?" He snorts, meaning as a joke. Evan doesn't reply, he just keeps looking at Barty in silence with tense shoulders. "Oh, fuck," he says, realization drowning him. "She is, isn't she? Shit, I'm sorry, Evan."

"It's fine," he breathes out. "But really, it won't be that hard. She's not— She's not going to be pleasant. But it'll be easy and I promise you she won't meddle in your life or care much about us. It's only to soothe her bruised ego because someone else knew about us before her." 

Barty bites his lip in contemplation, like he's not sure if he should agree or not. And Evan gets it, this is not what they agreed with. 

"I know it's not what I told you we would need to do, but I wasn't expecting her to know about it," he tells him sincerely. "We don't talk, not properly, anyway. It's my fault Emma told her mom, but it's easier if we go. Please, think about it."

"Will she really sniff out about me if I don't go?" He asks him. 

"My mom is unpredictable," he says honestly. "Sometimes she thinks everyone is out to get her and she crosses boundaries, so I wouldn't put it past her." 

"Fuck," he mutters. "Fine, I'll go. But know it's against my will and I'm fucking pissed at you. It's the last time I'm doing something we didn't agree on for you. After this, no more family meetings, no more trips. Just the dates until the wedding. Are we clear?" 

"Yes," he nods, knowing what this is about. He's pushing Barty into one more situation that can make them step out of the strictly professional realm. One more situation he was running away from. "Thank you, Barty. Really."

"You're paying me for this," he reminds him, like Evan shouldn't be grateful because of it. "When are we going?" 

"I'll pick you up Saturday at seven AM," he tells him. "We're driving to Cornwall."

"You're taking me to fucking Cornwall?" He grunts. 

"I promise you we'll be back by Saturday night," he says. "Just lunch and then we're heading back. No lingering there."

"It's not like I have a choice," he says bitterly. "Whatever, I'm seeing you Saturday, then." 

He knows Barty is mad at him, but he looks more scared than mad. Like the prospect of being around Evan for too long just the two of them makes him tense and sick at the same time. He didn't want to make Barty uncomfortable, but he's not sure they have another choice. Evan doesn't want to go either, but with his mom he knows he can't bail.

Evan is scared too. Barty will see too much of Evan. He probably could piece his whole life together just by meeting Evan's mom. He'll see why he never fought back, why he's so submissive. He'll be able to notice every single issue in Evan, and Evan will feel naked. Bare for Barty's prodding. It's not something he thinks he'll be comfortable with, so maybe both of them will be uncomfortable for their own reasons. 

"I'm really sorry, Barty."

"Just don't drag me to something else after this," he warns him. "I'm not saying yes a third time."

"Okay," he nods. "I'll see you Saturday. Good night."

Barty doesn't reply, only huffing before he gets out of the car, hitting the door too strongly to close it. This time, he doesn't wait for Evan to leave before he starts walking away, possibly to his own place, and Evan just hopes things won't go to shit. 

He needs this to work out without revealing too much about himself, but somehow, he thinks he'll lose more than Barty will this time. 

❦

Barty has no idea what the fuck he's doing anymore. 

As soon as he came back from Bali, he thought more than once about breaking their deal off. Suddenly, the idea of meeting Evan again made him feel claustrophobic and Barty wanted to throw up every time he remembered everything he started to feel and slipped away from him on the trip. It's funny how two days alongside Evan were enough to make Barty forget why he tries so hard to not be himself, and he was properly freaked out about it once he was back in London. 

Coming back to his job and keeping his distance from Evan helped, and like that, Barty slowly came back to his routine, to the balance he found for himself. With mind-centered, he was sure he could finish his job with Evan. He made his choice, they were going to be professional with each other again and everything that happened on the trip would be buried in fucking Indonesia, away from Barty. He could shove whatever he thought he felt for Evan down, put a smile on his face and act like Evan's touch didn't do irrevocable damage inside of himself. He could do his job. 

Except he wasn't expecting how hard it would be to see Evan again, gorgeous and expensive in a dark suit, showing him off like Barty was the most exquisite thing in the entire gala. He didn't expect the burning feeling in his stomach when Evan managed to see the truth behind Barty's behavior or the anger he felt when Rodolphus was touching Evan like he had a right. 

He also wasn't expecting Evan to say Barty needed to meet his fucking mom. 

Barty panicked. Meeting Evan's mom seemed too real, something beyond the lie they were crafting, and Barty almost bailed out again. He didn't want this type of responsibility, it was more than what they agreed on and more than Evan was paying him to do. Meeting his mom had nothing to do with Rabastan and Barty feared what this would do to him. 

He was doing fine with the idea again because he knew he could avoid Evan the best he could. That he just needed to pretend for a few hours, surrounded by people who made things easier. But he's not sure how he'll be fine with being in a car with Evan for four hours just so they can meet his mother in Cornwall. 

Barty is anxious, his hands clammy and he's hitting his feet on the sidewalk repeatedly while he awaits for Evan to arrive. 

He should've said no, but Evan didn't seem like he was joking or being manipulative when he said his mom was going to meet Barty one way or another and would probably dig into his life without an ounce of respect. He's not sure what to expect from the woman, but Evan didn't seem comfortable with asking Barty to go either, so he's probably getting himself into a big fucking problem that has nothing to do with him. 

The Maserati finally arrives, and Barty enters the car quickly, not wanting to see the curious eyes watching him get inside a car that costs more than his flat. 

"Good morning," Evan greets him. He's not smiling like he usually is, and it makes Barty even more anxious. 

He looks good, soft, wearing a light blue sweater and dark jeans. Evan looks casual, but his shoulders are tense. 

"Morning," he mutters, getting comfortable in the seat he'll be in for the next few hours. 

"I brought you coffee," he offers him a foam cup.  "There's cookies and muffins there," he points at a paper bag. 

"Thanks," he accepts the coffee, content that's coated with sugar. 

Evan nods, starting the car and turning the aux on, something he normally doesn't do. Barty thinks he's putting on some music because then they can avoid talking, and it feels almost good to know that Evan is uncomfortable with this whole thing as much as Barty, but Barty can't understand why he'd be uncomfortable with this. 

He thought for a moment that it was because of his job and Evan didn't want him near his mom, but he said more than once to Barty that he and his mom don't have a good relationship, so it's probably not that. Barty also doesn't know what to think about the fact that Evan didn't find it funny that Barty attempted to joke about his mom being a narcissist, and he's not sure if she really is or not. He's getting into this blindly, and it creeps him out a bit. The idea that he'll be seeing glimpses of how Evan's childhood was doesn't sit well with Barty, it feels too personal. Something he shouldn't see so they can maintain the balance of professionalism. 

Barty surprises himself when a Depeche Mode song starts playing, he was expecting something more classy coming from Evan, but he enjoys the music quietly, drinking his coffee while he watches London passing by. 

He dozes off at some point, and when Barty awakes, they're in an empty road, the engine of the car growling now that Evan is driving with a fast speed, something he can't do in the city. 

"How far are we?" He asks, rubbing his eyes and grimacing at how stiff his neck is. 

"One more hour, probably," Evan replies, stealing a glance at Barty.

"Are you sure you're not breaking some transit laws by driving this fast?"

"I am," he snorts. "There's not much supervision here, anyway."

Barty grunts in response, enjoying how fast the car is speeding. He likes the adrenaline, it makes him feel alive. Barty grabs one of the muffins, munching slowly while a New Order song plays softly under the loud noise of the car. 

"What do I need to know about your mom?" He finally manages to ask. "Something your boyfriend should know, I mean."

Evan takes a while to reply, like he's thinking about what he should tell Barty. 

"Don't call her Mrs.Rosier," he starts saying. "She remarried, so she's Elaine Rossi now, my stepfather is called Alfonso, they live in Monaco, so mom only comes here once a month for her book club or for Cornwall in the summer, but it's quite rare." Barty doesn't comment on how fucking odd it is that she only comes to London once a month for a meaningless book club. "I have siblings."

"You do?" He asks surprised, turning his head to stare at Evan with mouth agape. 

"Eliot and Evangeline," he replies, gripping tightly at the wheel. "Twins. They're ten years younger than me. We're not close. At all. By the time they were born, I was already on my way to a boarding school, so we grew up very apart. Their father was never a father to me, so the only thing that really linked us was mom, but they moved to Monaco when I was nineteen, so I only see them through my phone screen or once a year on my mom's birthday. I'm very detached from them," he tells him, like it's nothing. But Barty tries to imagine. Losing a parent then needing to adapt to a new person in your life, and from what Barty could grasp, Evan's stepfather never tried to be a dad to him, even if Evan was far too young and needed one. Then, his siblings are born and he barely spends time with them, being more of a stranger than a brother. 

"Doesn't it bother you?" He finds himself asking, even if he shouldn't. 

"I'm not a Rossi," he shrugs. "I'm a Rosier. My place was never with them and my stepfather made sure I knew about it since I was very young." 

"And your mom did nothing?" 

"My mom is not a normal mom," he says. "Motherhood is not for her, I'm not even sure why she had the twins, probably because Alfonso wanted his own kids," he shrugs. "She didn't care much about me. And I should already warn you that she's not going to be overly nice or a good host. To make sure everything goes smoothly, just let her talk about herself and agree with her. Don't try to fight her even if she says something absurd, it'll exhaust you and you won't be able to win."

"Jesus," he mumbles. "You're making it sound like she's impossible to deal with."

He snorts at this. "You'll understand when you meet her." 

"You don't want me here, do you?" He decides to rip the band-aid off. 

"No," he confirms quietly. "But it has nothing to do with you or the fact that we'll be lying. She's just not someone I want around you. Christ, I don't even want her around me." 

"Were you serious when you said she's a…? You know."

"Unfortunately," he sighs. "My stepfather tried to send her off to a psychiatrist once, but it didn't go well. She refuses to admit she has a problem, since she's sure she's perfect. It's complicated, but I'm not around her much to be able to tell you in heavy detail about it. My stepfather tries to keep the twins away from her the best he can, narcissist parents can affect their kids' lives, and though he's an asshole, he's a good dad for them." 

"Why doesn't he ask for a divorce?" 

"Wouldn't fix things, and it probably would give him more headache," he explains. "I don't think she'd deal well with a divorce." 

"What about you?"

"What about me?" He asks back.

"You said narcissistic parents can affect their kid's lives. So what about you?" 

Evan keeps driving, not replying to Barty. He thinks he won't, that maybe he asked something too far off from what Evan wants him to know. It's a big thing to ask, something Barty has no right to know. 

"I was mostly quiet," he replies, surprising Barty. Evan is tense, he can see it, but he's offering him something nonetheless. Trusting Barty with this truth. "I learned from a young age that as long as you didn't reply or tried to show her you were upset, things were fine. She'd leave me alone with the nannies or with my grandfather and everything would be fine. I felt disconnected from my mother my whole life, fighting her off or implying she had a problem always went wrong, so I just learned to be quiet for my own benefit. She barely paid attention to me, anyway. Her sense of who she is it's too big for her to notice anything else." 

He starts picturing Evan as a kid, without a father, keeping himself quiet and away from his own mother because she never could put him first. A mother who was only focused on her grandiosity and never spared a single glance at Evan. He tries to picture Evan, wanting his mom's attention but receiving nothing in return. And for someone who doesn't care much about others, Barty finds himself feeling sorry for the kid Evan was. The one that never knew how motherly love felt like and grew up without it. 

Barty wonders how lonely Evan truly was, growing up like this couldn't have offered him much company, and he thinks he can understand. Why he's so bad at fighting back; he never could, could he? Not when fighting back certainly earned him more than just a few screams back. Barty won't pretend he understands how being raised by a narcissistic parent is, but he thinks it's way more than just learning how to be quiet and submissive in order to let your parents stay at the top.  

"I'm sorry, Evan."

"It's fine," he waves him off easily, and he really seems fine about it. But Barty can't be fine with any of it, he feels bad for him and though it's weird and uncomfortable, he wants to make Evan feel better. To comfort him, somehow. 

But he doesn't, because that would be crossing some lines and Barty can't. He needs to keep this professional, and meddling in Evan's personal business it's anything but. 

They fall into silence, just the low rumble of the car and the music between them, and Barty realizes he's not even nervous about meeting Evan's mom. She's certainly not someone he wants approval from, and he just wishes this could end quickly. He wants to go back to before, before Bali, before he got tangled with Evan's personal life like this. He wants safety again, when Evan wasn't a current asset in his life yet. When Barty didn't threaten to spill everything to him every time Evan was around him.

He's almost relieved when they finally arrive at the house, the salt air and strong wind surrounding him, while the fainting noise of the waves plays softly in the back. 

The house it's beautiful, big and all surrounded with white stone walls. Tall windows, large doors and a beautiful garden that's about to bloom entirely in spring. The property is surrounded by a green landscape and tall cliffs, close by the sea. Barty thinks he can see a tennis court in the distance and a big pool, wondering just how big the place is. 

Evan looks almost miserable when he finally parks the car close to the house, his body still tense and his jaw clenched. He sighs, like he's getting ready for a battle, and Barty finds himself watching him with sick interest. It's the first time he's seeing Evan so out of his depth, so real and in touch with his own emotions. There's no mask right now, only the truth in where Barty can see how uncomfortable he is with this meeting. 

"Let's go," he says. "The faster we can end this, the better."

"Okay," Barty nods, taking his seatbelt off. 

They get out of the car, and in his own way of showing support, Barty tries not to think much about it before he interlocks his hand with Evan's, squeezing it and following him to the small stairs that leads them to the front porch. 

He presses the doorbell, but who opens the door is not Evan's mom but a kind woman with soft cheeks and white strands, dressed in a white modest dress.

"Good morning, Mr.Rosier." 

"Bertha, it's good to see you," Evan greets her, and it seems genuine. "How have you been?" 

"Good, good," she replies easily, rushing them inside. "You look healthy," she pats him on the cheek softly. "You've been doing okay?"

"Yes," he nods. "This is Barty," he introduces him, "My boyfriend."

No matter how many times Evan says it, it's still strange for Barty to have the title directed to himself. 

"Oh my! What a handsome boy," she gushes. "It's nice to meet you, Mr…?"

"Just Barty is fine," he smiles at her. 

"Bertha has been working with us since I was twelve," Evan tells Barty. 

"So she knows all the embarrassing stories," Barty teases him. "Now I know who I should talk to."

Bertha laughs warmly, patting Evan on the arm. "I've got a lot of stories about this boy, I won't disappoint you," she winks at Barty. 

Evan smiles, opening his mouth to reply to her, but his smile quickly drops when a loud voice screams, "Evan?"

"That's probably mom," he comments, smiling less warmly to Bertha now. "Is she in the living room?" 

"Yes," Bertha nods. "You go make yourselves comfortable, I'll check on the food," she squeezes Evan's arm almost supportively. 

Evan fixes his posture, his shoulders broader, and like he's talking himself into it, he starts walking, pulling Barty to follow him. They walk through a perfectly white and decorated hallway, entering an archway that leads to the living room. 

Barty is not sure what he was expecting from Evan's mom, but he wasn't expecting the woman sitting on the grey sofa. 

For starters, Evan's mom is… blond. Hair just above the length of her collarbone, a golden blond that's too shiny under the small sunlight coming from outside. He can see Evan in her, in her honeyed brown eyes, her perfect nose and high cheekbones, but she's also the opposite of her son. She's tanned, probably from too much sun in Monaco, and her blond hair and rosy cheeks tell Barty that Evan is probably the spitting image of his father. 

She's a beautiful woman, classy and elegant, wearing a long beige skirt and silk blouse. Evan smiles at her, though it seems fake, walking in her direction and giving her two kisses, one on each cheek. She hugs him, and to their credit it's not stiff or awkward. 

"Finally you decided to show yourself around," she comments, her tone a little poking. 

Evan doesn't comment about it, "You look great, mom." 

She doesn't say thank you. "Is this him?" She focuses on Barty, her laser eyes looking him up and down like she's trying to come up with a price for him. 

"Yeah," Evan nods, bringing Barty closer by the hand. "Mom, this is Barty. Barty, this is my mom, Elaine Rossi."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Barty smiles at her, trying his best to look polite. 

"He's better than the last one," she tells Evan, a little rudely since she didn't address Barty at all. Her tone gives Barty a whiplash. "Too many piercings, though," she scrunches her nose. "But that's okay, you're gorgeous, honey," she tells him. "Nice to meet you. Now, come. Let's sit, I'm sure you'd like to drink something, no? The trip was probably very exhausting."

Barty is not sure how he should act. If he's supposed to be quiet or engage in conversation. She's not what he was expecting, but Barty can admit he was probably waiting for the female version of Patrick Bateman in American Psycho. 

"It was okay, and we're fine, thank you," Evan tells her, sitting and bringing Barty to sit next to him, their thighs touching. "How have you been, mom?" 

"Oh, you know, the same old," she waves him off. But then she starts talking for the next few minutes about how she's been, which fairly was what Evan asked, but then she starts talking about this amazing party she has been planning for the twins that'll be nineteen in April, how incredible the new house in Spain it's becoming and how she's successfully one of the richest wives in Monaco at the moment, it even was written in the journal. 

She uses the word I again and again and again. Her sense of grandiosity it's quite subtle, and maybe Barty wouldn't even think much about it if Evan hadn't said something about her disorder, but now that he knows where to look, he realizes she didn't bother to ask a single question about them. 

Barty is a new person, so she delights herself in recounting every little achievement of her life to him. About how she used to be a model, a tennis player that won so many trophies and competitions, about that time she started to study law and was the best in her class. On and on. And Barty can't do a thing other than listen to her and nod at what she says, too scared of saying the wrong thing. 

He wouldn't say she's acting like a bitch, it's more like she really doesn't realize she has been talking about herself for the last minutes without a pause. Like her own existence is so important she needs to list every single one of her achievements, putting herself in the center of everything. Evan barely blinks, engaging in her own illusion of superiority though Barty doesn't think it's the healthiest way of dealing with this. He tries to picture someone like her being a mother, and Barty can imagine it was pretty fucking horrible. She doesn't look mean or cruel, but he can't deny she's negligent and unaware of her own ego. 

They finally go to the dining room, sitting at a big wooden table with the french door open, showing the back porch with a swing and a jacuzzi, a hammock between two trees for reading. 

Elaine starts asking Barty some questions, but when he says he's Russian she starts talking about when she went to Russia, and was poorly treated, something Barty can see because russians are not patient enough for the type of woman she clearly is. When she asks more about his family, Evan asks her to tell him that one story where they went to the Swiss Alps and she forgets all about him. She loves to talk when no one is telling her to stop or disagree with her, her ego boosting the more Evan agrees with her and they pay attention to her. 

Barty starts nursing a headache, and he can't enjoy the food with her talking nonstop, thinking it was a very bad idea for them to pay attention to whatever she was saying. 

"So, are you two planning on marrying?" She asks, the first thing she asks about them.

Barty almost chokes on his white wine when she asks such a question. 

"It's too soon to think about this, mom," Evan says smoothly. 

"I'm just trying to make sure you won't pull that stunt again," she comments easily. 

"Stunt?" Barty frowns, being stupid enough to ask about it. 

"Oh, yes, you know," she snorts, "The one Evan canceled his wedding and told me a week before the ceremony," she tells him. "Everyone was so excited, so imagine my shock when he announced the wedding was canceled. It was one of the most embarrassing moments of my life. Imagine all of my family and friends calling me to ask what happened, and I couldn't even reply because I also didn't know. We were already in Vienna, you know? Where the ceremony would've happened, but guess what, none of the grooms were there, were they, Evan?" 

Barty knows Evan said it was pointless to fight her, he should just listen to her rambling about how her son's canceled wedding affected her and embarrassed her without commenting about it, but Barty feels a fierce and strong urge to defend Evan's honor. He has no idea how the end of the wedding really affected him, but he can see it cut him deep, and he doubts his mom wasted a second of her life to think about how it affected Evan. 

"Don't you think you're being too rash?" Barty comments before he can control himself, Evan squeezes his thigh under the table, probably to make him shut up, but now that he started to talk, he knows he won't stop. Barty never had an easy temper. "Evan just had his wedding canceled, his fiancé left him, he was mourning an entire relationship, I think calling you to warn you about it was the last thing on his mind."

She looks at him with angry eyes and a disbelieving expression. 

"Excuse me?" She demands, looking at Evan like it's his fault Barty just said anything. "You have no idea how it was for me, to deal with the fallout on my own."

"Think for a second about the fallout Evan was dealing with," he spits out. "It was his wedding. His engagement. You've nothing to do with it." 

"Barty," Evan cuts him off calmly, shaking his head. "Sorry, mom."

"How can he say I had nothing to do with it? Evan is my son," she tells him, finally remembering she has one. "It was mortifying to deal with a canceled wedding, everyone was expecting them to marry!"

Barty has no idea how this woman can't see that the only person who can be mortified and feel betrayed is Evan. 

"It wasn't about you," he tells her, very diplomatically. 

It's the wrong thing to say, naturally. She gasps like she can't believe Barty dared to say such a thing, and she's about to open her mouth again to argue when Evan suddenly stands up. 

"I'm sorry, mother," he tells her, again, even though he has nothing to apologize for. He barely defended himself, like it was totally plausible that his mom was making the disaster of his failed engagement about her. "I'll have a few words with him, you don't need to worry about it."

"You better, this was way out of line," she says coldly, like she's a completely different person now that Barty pointed out her fucked behavior. 

Barty can't help himself, scoffing at her audacity, but before he can say something, Evan is pulling him away from the table to another place in the house. 

He ends up hiding in an alcove in the house, the enormous window showing a cliff and just a hint of water in the distance. 

"How can she say that?" Barty asks as soon as they stop, mad. "You were the one who had to deal with the fallout, he left you, but suddenly this is about her and her embarrassment because your wedding was canceled?" He scoffs. "This woman has issues, I bet she didn't ask how you were, did she? Barely cared, I bet. You know what? I'm going to tell her some truths," he starts moving again, but Evan holds him in place. 

"Barty, it's okay," he tells him lightly. 

And Barty wonders, how many times did she ignore Evan's feelings and made it about her and he had to tell himself it was okay? To patch up his own pain and wounds because she wouldn't do it for him and Evan had to remind himself that it was okay?

How much negligence did he suffer through a lifetime to make himself believe it was okay? 

"It's not okay," Barty says fiercely. "None of this is okay. She's your mother, she should be there for you, not make your pain and your disgrace about herself. This isn't okay, it's wrong. You don't deserve this, you deserve better." 

He barely realizes he's breathing heavily or that he's so angry his cheeks are heating up. It's just unfair, that Evan is such a nice, kind person that he'd sit there and let his mom say all of that just to avoid a fight. That he had to get used to this type of behavior because it was better than the alternative. 

Barty looks at him, really looks at him, and he can see that though Evan held his own easily, spoke calmly to her, his eyes are really fucking lonely, showing a broken side of Evan Barty had no idea it was there. This runs deeper than a kid who had to learn how to be quiet and easy, this is years of having his feelings ignored and shoved down to the point Evan's sense of who he is became something small and fragile. 

His mother made her presence too grandiose, and Evan had to shrink himself so they could fit into the same place, making himself too small. 

God, did he ever screamed about something in his life? Did he ever fought just for the sake of it? Because he was angry and nothing else? Without caring about others' feelings and only about his own? Does Evan know how to deal with himself, or every single one of his actions are for others' benefit just like he always did with his mom? And why no one ever tried to help him let things out instead of letting them feast on him? 

"It's not okay," he repeats, his words coming out choked. Barty barely can't understand why he's so upset for Evan, but something inside of him is shaking, because Evan is still standing, still calm and collected when he shouldn't. 

"Shh, sweetheart," Evan soothes him, bringing him closer so their hearts are beating together. His fingers rub Barty's nape, an oddly intimate gesture that Barty doesn't want to push away. "It's okay," he repeats. "I'm used to this. To her. It doesn't hurt anymore, I promise," he whispers to him. "She won't ever change and it's okay. I don't need her. Not anymore." 

"You should scream at her," he mumbles, closing his eyes and letting his forehead rest on Evan's shoulder, not thinking about anything else but this moment right here. He wants to offer Evan comfort, but somehow he feels comforted by Evan, like he's feeling more for him than Evan himself. "I'm so sorry you had to go through that your entire life." 

"It's fine," he promises him. "You don't need to fight her because of me. She barely understands why she's wrong, don't waste your energy trying to make her see, it'll be pointless," he tells him gently. 

Barty hates that he can't fix this. Can't at least make her understand why she's wrong and it's a terrible mother. Evan has been around this his whole life, so he knows it won't change a thing if Barty fights her on this or not. He knows a lost battle when he sees one. 

"Fine," he mumbles. "But I'm not okay with any of this. I'm only going to shut my mouth for you, but I think it's fucked up and wrong." 

"Okay," Evan agrees quietly. He takes hold of Barty's face, bringing his head up again so they're eye to eye, staring at each other. Evan's eyes are soft, his shoulders relaxed for the first time since they got here. "Thank you."

And it's a phrase that can mean a lot of things, thank you for coming here, thank you for helping me out, thank you for putting up with her, but above all, Barty thinks it's a thank you for seeing me. 

He swallows dryly, barely processing how big this is. This goes way beyond the job Barty is doing. This is the truth about Evan Rosier, and it's raw and private, but he's trusting the truth in Barty's hand and for once, Barty doesn't want to ruin it. He managed to get a glimpse of Evan's life, and he wants to keep it. To understand him. 

He started all of this because he was too curious about Evan to not try to figure him out, but Barty is realizing there's no mystery in Evan Rosier. He's a broken boy with a lonely childhood and a bad mother, too used to being flexible and quiet because no one ever taught him how to scream and fight. Someone who puts up a mask and can be confident and charming, but that's also broken inside.

Barty hates how much he can sympathize with him, because deep down, Barty's insides are almost the same. 

He doesn't pity Evan. He understands him, and the idea that they're the same scares him. Barty's worst fear is the one where he's seen above all else. 

Evan is not as cowardly as Barty. He's not scared of being seen. Not by Barty, at least. 

"We should go back," he ends up saying, not being able to pronounce any other words. 

Evan nods, clasping Barty's hand with his like they're a team, and maybe they are. Maybe the circumstances put them on the same side. 

"Let's go."

When they return, the table it's quiet. Evan's mom doesn't spare them a glance, and Barty realizes this is punishment. In her mind, her silence and the absence of her presence it's punishing, and Barty doubts she didn't try this before, when Evan was a fucking kid that just wanted his mom's attention and got the silent treatment instead. 

Jokes on her, because Barty has a better time now that she's quiet than when she was talking non-stop. 

They eat in silence, and Evan looks at ease, even if his mom is ignoring them, drinking her own wine and typing at her phone. At least she's bothering someone else and not them. 

After they finish eating, Evan shows him around the house, leading Barty to the small beach on their property, just a patch of sand but with waves big and strong. 

They don't talk. Barty doesn't think Evan is in the mood anyway, everything he saw was self explanatory. 

He realizes they're creating some sort of bond right now, while both of them stand side by side watching the waves breaking with shoulders pressed against each other. It's a quiet type of intimacy, the one they're developing at this moment. Barty feels like he knows too much about Evan now, understands too much, and Evan can't go back to when Barty didn't know this part of him. 

Through a single interaction with the person who birthed Evan, Barty thinks he can understand more about him than if he had explained to him with words. The act of seeing first hand what Evan has been putting up with his entire life allows Barty to sympathize and figure out between the lines the type of man it made Evan to become. 

It's a big thing. Huge, actually. Out of proportion sort of thing and it fucking scares Barty. 

But right now, watching the waves and feeling the salt air on his tongue, Barty thinks he cares more about Evan being upset than his own chaotic mess. 

He'll freak out about what this means for them,— for Barty, once he's alone. Now he just wants to make Evan feel okay because he's not sure someone ever comforted him about this. 

They come back to the house still in silence, and Evan goes to say goodbye to his mom alone, telling Barty to wait for him in the car. He knows Evan went alone because his mom is probably trying to make him feel bad about bringing Barty, probably telling Evan they should break up and that Barty is terrible. It makes Barty want to go to them so he can defend Evan, which is weird because Barty doesn't feel protective of people very often. 

There's just something in the way Evan dealt with her that indulges Barty to want to protect Evan. Bubble wrap what's left of him so he can keep it safe. He doesn't want to think about why he feels so entitled to Evan's well-being all of a sudden, but Barty will try to tell himself it's because he feels empathy towards Evan and no one ever showed him an ounce of it. Not with a mother like his or a stepfather that kicked him to the curb. 

When he returns, he doesn't look shaken up or sad, like the prospect of dealing with his mom is white noise after too long. His eyes, though, tell Barty another story. Maybe Evan forged himself to be a brick wall against his mom's words and behavior, but deep down, Barty can see in his eyes that though he's used to it, the action of being around his mom weighs on him. 

He's immune to a lot of things, but Barty finds the need to make Evan be kind to himself. To remind he deserves it. 

"Home?" Evan asks him, his voice low in the car. 

"Can we just go for a ride?" Barty asks him, not wanting to come back to London yet. "I never came to Cornwall before." 

"Just ride?" He asks him, making Barty nod. "Anywhere you want to go?" 

"Just not here," Barty says quietly. 

Evan looks at him, and Barty has the distant feeling that Evan is reading him, trying to find a secret thing in his eyes that Barty himself isn't aware of.

"Okay," he relents, agreeing.

Evan turns the car on, the engine purring, and he starts driving away from the house. Barty turns the aux on, opens his window so the spring wind rushes his hair. And they drive. 

He watches Cornwall pass through him, Evan driving like he knows every corner of the city. They pass through small houses made of cobblestone, tiny stores and restaurants and end up on empty roads, the sea in the back, making everything almost impossible to exist. 

Evan drives. 

Drives.

Drives. 

Barty gets lost in time, in the music playing softly mixed with the windy sounds coming from the open windows and the low rumble of the car. He feels like they're leaving all the bad atmosphere caused by Evan's mother behind, and Barty wishes deep down that Evan is feeling better. That it doesn't hurt much, and if it did, it's soothing now. 

He looks relaxed, lost in the moment and not chained to his thoughts. Barty feels his own chest getting loose as well, the tightness not suffocating anymore. 

Eventually, Evan stops by a cliff, the waves crashing against stones under it, the grayish blue sky like an infinite pool above them. He turns the car off, slipping his hand into his pocket to take a silvery tin for cigarettes and a fancy lighter, because of course Evan would have a fancy one.

"Do you smoke?" He asks. 

"Yeah," he replies, even if he only does it sometimes.

"Come on them," he opens the car door, unbuckling his seatbelt. "Let's have a smoke."

Barty follows him outside, feeling a little cold with the wind. It's almost spring so the temperature it's not that bad, but it's still a bit chilly. Evan sits on the Maserati's hood, almost on the edge, putting a cigarette in his mouth and lighting it. 

He offers Barty one, and he accepts it, sitting by his side almost scared of fucking the car paint just by supporting himself on it. Evan lights his cigarette for him, and Barty inhales the smoke, realizing it's a menthol one. 

Evan lets the smoke out, clouding above their heads and prickling Barty's nose. 

"I didn't want to bring you with me," he starts saying. "I knew you would see too much. Things that had no place in a business like ours." 

Barty doesn't know what to say to that. If he should apologize or not. If he should tell him it didn't change anything, though it did. They both know it did. Something shifted today and they can't go back again, they already did this in Bali, but today is not something they can forget about it. Evan saw too much of Barty in Bali, but now Barty is seeing too much of him. 

He's not sure when they're going to stop seeing too much from the other. 

"When I was a kid, I never understood her," Evan starts saying again. "She never saw me, and I grew up trying to understand what was wrong with me. She was never cruel, but it never felt like I had a right to exist with her. My father was dead, Alfonso never interacted much with me and my mom was always busy with herself. If I took a wrong turn, she'd ignore me and give me the silent treatment and I was always worried about what was wrong with me. Can you imagine? To spend your entire childhood feeling like there's something irrevocably wrong with you? That maybe you were born wrong because no one cared about you?" He takes a long drag, blowing the smoke up. 

Barty is torn between telling him to not utter a single word anymore and begging for more. Wanting to know Evan Rosier it's a terrifying thing, but it's also the reason Barty got tangled in this. He fears the type of intimacy he'll have with Evan after he's done telling Barty about his lonely childhood, what the information will do to Barty regarding Evan, but he can't shy away from wanting to know more. He wants to listen to Evan because he deserves someone who will listen to him and care about him. 

"I was lonely most of my life," Evan confesses, and something in Barty breaks. Because this he can understand. The awful hole inside of himself that should be filled with more. The endless loneliness he feels no matter how many people he surrounds himself with. "The only person who ever paid attention to me was my grandfather, but he was a businessman, always too busy with his own life to make me feel loved. The house was too big, I was too lonesome, and my mother was never able to fulfill this aching need inside of me. I have friends now, people that love me, but I can't stop thinking that I was made to feel lonely for the rest of my life."

It's Barty's time to take a deep drag, his lungs filling with nicotine as he stares at the sea. 

He hates how much he can understand Evan. 

Hates how they're the same broken pieces that fit together. 

Evan's loneliness is a reflection of Barty's, and he doesn't like how understood he feels with his words. 

Barty had a happy childhood, he can't understand this part of Evan, but he can understand the loneliness. The feeling that maybe this is all Barty was made for. 

"I'm sorry about your mom," Barty tells him quietly, meaning every word. "And don't tell me it's fine because it's not. It really isn't, Evan," he breathes out. "You shouldn't live in your mother's shadow because she's too busy looking at her own reflection to see you."

"I know," he says, and he sounds conscious about it. "It's better now, though. I grew up and realized that just because she was my mom, I wasn't obligated to understand her or empathize. I'm not demonizing her, you know? She has a disorder, she can't feel enough empathy to understand the whys, but I also don't need to keep her around just because she's my blood. We don't have a relationship, and I made my peace with that. I'm not mad that she made me like this." And he sounds honest, like he can't hate her as much as he can't forgive her. 

Barty wonders how much Evan bled to be able to get to this moment, where he can be okay with how his relationship with his mom is. With how things happened from then to now. 

He could never do the same, but Barty thinks Evan is a better man than he ever could be. He's good. Barty doesn't even need to dig deep enough to know this. He doesn't make his wounds others' problems, and Barty can't tell him maybe he should because his whole life, Evan was used to letting things go. 

It's how he grew up to be, and Barty thinks Evan wouldn't be Evan anymore if he started to be bitter about everything. If he cursed his mother, if he punched Rabastan and his new guy or if decided to be mean about it. Evan is quiet and avoidant of a fight, but he could never be giving, there's a fire inside of Evan that he uses to keep himself warm,— alive. 

He had been through too much, and maybe Evan doesn't want to fight with everyone who let him down because he just wants someone who'll fight for him instead. That will love him enough to not disappoint him and fill the gaping loneliness inside of him. 

Barty thinks that Evan is not used to fighting for himself because of his mother who made him too small, associating speaking up as something bad, because he never was heard when he tried to. But he also thinks the reason why Evan didn't fight Rabastan or his mother is because he's tired of fighting for people's love and respect, the two things can coexist in the same person. Evan is not used to fighting anymore, but he's also not interested in fighting for attention and love. 

Barty and Evan can be alike, but they're also very different. 

Barty never gave up on having attention even when he knew it wasn't worthy anymore. Evan had the courage to do what Barty never could; he let it go. 

He won't pretend he figured it out the entire existence of Evan Rosier, but Barty is seeing parts of him he never thought he would be able to. He feels connected to Evan, finds himself respecting him at the same time he feels bad. Turns out, Evan can cause a lot of feelings and thoughts inside of Barty. 

"Tell me about your grandfather," Barty asks him. Evan turns his head, staring at Barty surprised by the request. He just wants to listen to something good, for once. To know that Evan wasn't entirely alone even if he felt he was. 

"He taught me how to play polo," Evan tells him, his cigarette almost ending. "I think grandpa was very alone, as well. My grandmother died, then my father did two years later and he and my uncle never got along. All he had was the company and me. It was rare, but sometimes I spent the weekends with him and he would teach me how to play chess and polo. Most of my happy moments as a kid happened because of him," he smiles a bit. A secretive, fond thing. "He wasn't a very affectionate or kind man, but he was good to me." 

"Then I'm glad you had him," he says softly, throwing his cigarette on the floor so he can hug his legs, though he tries his best not to dirt the car with his shoes. 

"We grew closer once I was older," Evan shares. "I miss him, sometimes." Barty understands a thing or two about missing people who are already gone. "What about you?" Evan asks quietly. 

Barty doesn't want to tell him, knowing his truth will close the bridge between them. Evan shared something, and if Barty shares something too, it'll be like a pact they're making. One that has nothing to do with Barty's job. 

But a part of Barty feels like it's unfair of him to snatch such a fundamental part of Evan and not give even an inch back to him. 

"I was never lonely when my mom was alive," he tells him, supporting his chin between his bent knees. "For every dark corner, she was light. She lit up every room she entered, to the point that even someone like my dad didn't have any other option but to love her. She was so loud, her voice could be heard from the entire house and she liked to sing every time silence set in," he smiles a bit, a fragile, soft thing he hopes Evan can't see, because it reveals too much. "Everything became dark and quiet without her. My dad lost a part of him without her, and I think he couldn't love me anymore after she died," he sighs. "I was never lonely with her," he repeats, "But loneliness was all I knew after she died." 

"I'm sorry you had to know what that feels like," Evan says soothingly. Feels like, as though Evan can see Barty is lonely, even now. Even after so much time passed. 

"Sometimes I miss her so much my entire body aches," he confesses, feeling a lump in his throat. "I will never stop missing her, you know? It's a forever type of thing I just need to get used to it, but I can't. Accepting the pain means I'm fine with her death, but the truth is that my life was never the same without her and everything just feels… empty." 

Evan doesn't say anything else, maybe because he knows no word would be able to fix this, or fix Barty's pain. Some things are not fixable, and some words are not enough to make it better. But Evan offers him another cigarette, presses his shoulder against Barty's and keeps him anchored, and somehow, that's enough. 

Minutes pass before Evan says, "She sounds like an amazing woman."

"Yeah," he agrees, quietly. "She was." 

And she would fucking hate what Barty did with his life. She would be fucking heartbroken, and Barty's self-hatred for himself eats him alive once more.

There's something deeply disturbing, yet comforting, in sharing things with someone else. Someone Barty knows won't judge him. The idea of being seen makes Barty sick, but the realization that he can take things out of his chest it's not the worst thing in the world. 

Barty doesn't think about what this means for them. To the agreement they made in Bali about focusing only on business. He just focuses on this moment.

"Thank you," Evan says, so quietly Barty barely hears it. 

He turns his head, cheek on his knees, and he finds himself mesmerized by Evan. How his skin glows with the sunlight, his eyes a beautiful, hypnotizing shade of gold and his little freckles doting his nose and cheeks. He's fucking beautiful, and Barty wonders if he's being too stupid into thinking he can escape this force of a man. 

"Don't," he ends up saying. "Turns out, I'm quite fond of you."

"Should I be honored?" He asks, a smile playing on his lips while his eyes light up with amusement. 

"You should," he snorts. "I'm not fond of many people." 

"In this case, I'm feeling very honored," his smile now widens, showing Barty his white teeth as his cheeks lift. "I'm kind of fond of you too, you know?"

His chest warms and Barty feels a small turmoil brewing in his stomach, his ears hot. 

"You better," he mutters. 

Evan's smile doesn't go anywhere, keeping Barty company even if he hates everything it does to him. 

"Home?" Evan asks again. 

This time, Barty knows they can't keep what happened in Cornwall in Cornwall. He won't be able to avoid this. 

Things just shifted, even if Barty doesn't understand why or how, but it did. He should've known Evan Rosier would mess everything up. 

"Yeah," he agrees, putting his legs down and getting up. "Let's go home."

Barty and his stupid, stupid curiosity.