The party was still in full swing. The dim light from the common room flickered, casting shadows on the stone walls as the noise of laughing students and loud music filled the air. Barty Crouch Jr. had already consumed more than his fair share of firewhiskey, and the warmth from the alcohol buzzed through his veins. It made him feel light, untethered, like the world around him didn't matter—like he could forget the weight of everything he had been carrying.

As the night wore on, he lost track of time. The laughter of his friends mingled with the clinking of glasses, but his thoughts always seemed to drift back to one person—Evan. Even in the chaos of the party, Evan had remained a quiet, distant figure.

Barty watched him from across the room, his gaze heavy, lingering. Evan's quietness was hard to ignore—he had been like this for a while now, withdrawn and seemingly far away from everyone, including himself. But tonight, Barty couldn't just push it aside. Something about the way Evan stood at the edge of the room, away from the crowd, seemed to pull at him. It unsettled him more than he liked to admit.

In a drunken haze, Barty finally made his way over to Evan, stumbling slightly as he moved through the crowd. Evan was sitting in a chair near the edge of the room, absent from the chatter around him, his eyes lost somewhere far away.

"Hey, Rose," Barty said, his voice slurred, leaning down to place a hand on Evan's shoulder, his words a little too loud, a little too intimate. "Why are you hiding in the corner, baby?"

Evan looked up at him, startled at the sudden attention, but Barty didn't seem to notice. Instead, he grinned and sat down beside him, the room spinning just a little too much for him to keep his balance. "You're so beautiful, you know that?" Barty mumbled, his voice thick with affection. "Like a damn rose, all delicate and perfect. I—"

Before Evan could respond, Barty slung an arm around his shoulders, his head spinning even more now. "I'm really drunk, baby," Barty continued, his speech slurred as he pulled Evan closer to him. "But you're so pretty. You're so pretty, Rose."

Evan tensed slightly under his touch but didn't pull away. He didn't know how to react to Barty's sudden, overzealous attention, especially when Barty had never really acted like this before—not like this, anyway. He was used to Barty's teasing, his flirtations with everyone, but this felt... different.

"Let's get you to bed," Evan muttered, trying to help Barty to his feet as he felt the weight of the older boy lean heavily against him. It wasn't that Evan didn't care for Barty—he did, in his own way—but right now, the overwhelming scent of alcohol on Barty's breath, the unsteady nature of his steps, felt like too much. Evan didn't know what to make of it, but he knew it was his responsibility to make sure Barty got back to their room.

With a groan, Barty let Evan guide him toward the door. "I don't want to go to bed, Rose," Barty protested weakly, stumbling slightly. "I wanna stay with you... baby..."

Evan sighed, his patience wearing thin as he led Barty up the stairs. "You'll feel better in the morning, trust me," Evan said, his voice quiet but firm. "Just let's get you to bed, okay?"

As they entered their shared dormitory, Evan gently helped Barty onto the bed, his heart heavy. He hadn't been in the mood for this—the party, the attention, all of it. He hadn't been in the mood for anything, really, not since... well, for longer than he cared to admit. And yet here he was, trying to take care of Barty in the midst of his own misery.

"C'mon, Rose, help me with my shirt," Barty mumbled as he flopped onto the bed, his words barely coherent. "I'm hot."

Evan hesitated, feeling a knot tighten in his stomach. It wasn't the first time he had helped Barty with something like this, but tonight felt different. The air felt thick, weighted with something unsaid. But with a sigh, Evan carefully helped Barty take off his shirt, his hands trembling just a little as he tugged it over Barty's head.

As he did, his gaze fell to Barty's chest, but it wasn't the usual sight that grabbed his attention. It was something else entirely.

Evan's eyes widened in shock.

Evan's wrists.

The sleeves of his shirt had shifted slightly as he had helped Barty, revealing pale skin underneath, marked with faint scars—thin, jagged lines that stretched across the delicate skin of his wrists.

Barty froze. His drunken mind stilled for the briefest of moments, and his eyes locked onto the scars with horror. He couldn't look away.

Evan immediately shifted, trying to hide his wrists, his expression tight with discomfort. Barty's heart slammed against his chest, his breath catching in his throat as he tried to make sense of what he had just seen.

"Evan..." he whispered, his voice trembling. "What... what are these?"

Evan bit his lip, his eyes avoiding Barty's gaze. He didn't want to speak, didn't want to say anything that might make this worse. He wasn't ready to share this, especially not now, not when things with Barty were already complicated enough.

But Barty's hands were already reaching for him, pulling him closer. He didn't care that he was drunk; the sight of Evan's scars shattered something inside him. Without thinking, Barty gently cupped Evan's face in his hands, his thumb grazing his cheek softly, like he could somehow fix everything just by being close to him.

"Baby..." Barty whispered, his voice breaking, filled with emotion. "I... I love you so much. I love you, Rose. Please don't hide from me, okay? I need you to know that I love you, that I don't care about these scars. You're perfect to me. I... I need you."

His words tumbled out in a haze, his drunk mind struggling to string them together, but the sincerity was clear in his voice. "I love you, baby. I'll always love you." He repeated the words over and over, like he could somehow make Evan believe it if he said them enough.

Evan didn't say anything in return. He couldn't. But his heart was hammering in his chest. The weight of Barty's words, the way he held him, the way he kissed him—again and again, on his forehead, his cheek, his lips—it all made Evan feel things he hadn't let himself feel in a long time.

Barty continued kissing him, softly and tenderly, as if trying to erase every ounce of pain that Evan had been hiding. "I'll never let you go," Barty murmured between kisses. "You're mine. You're my Rose."

Evan couldn't answer, couldn't return the words—not yet. But as Barty held him close, kissing him with a tenderness that felt so foreign and real, Evan allowed himself to close his eyes and let go of the walls he had built around himself. Just for a moment, he let himself believe that Barty truly cared, that maybe, just maybe, he didn't have to hide anymore.

Barty curled into Evan, seeking comfort as he wrapped his arms around him, his breath heavy with alcohol. "I'm sorry, Rose," Barty murmured, his voice cracking. "I'm losing it... I love you, I love you so much. I don't deserve you, but please... please stay..i love you,"

 Edit: what do you think so far?