Written for the Battlefield Wars. Given characters: Barty Crouch Jr and Regulus Black
Words: 819
"Barty, if we make it through this, promise me one thing," Regulus said, his eyes wide with honesty as he stared at his lover.
"What?" Barty asked. It wasn't what he wanted to say. He wanted to say, 'I'd do anything for you,' but the war had made him scared. Regulus had made him scared. Fear made him close off.
They were stood on the beach, the sounds of the waves crashing on the sand their only accompaniment: a thousand kisses given to the shore and not one of them returned.
"I want you to promise me you'll always love me, even if we don't make it through together. I want you to tell me that you'll always remember the times we shared together with a smile, even if you can no longer smile at me. Do you understand?" Regulus asked.
Barty stared, unsure. He didn't think he did understand, because when he tried to… it didn't make sense. It couldn't make sense.
"You mean… if you die…" Barty began, but he knew it wasn't right.
"No," Regulus said, his eyes heavy with an innate sadness.
"You can't mean what I think you mean. You can't. We're comrades in arms, Reg, we always have been. Soldiers. We grew up together. We fight together. And if we die, we're supposed to die together, side by side. That's how this goes, Reg. There's no other way out," Barty argued, laughing bitterly. If he didn't laugh, he knew he would cry, and he would not show that much weakness. Not today, not ever.
"What if we're wrong? What if He's wrong? Has that thought ever crossed your mind, even for a second?" Regulus asked, his pitch rising with every word.
The air was dark around them, but they were used to it. They were children of the night, warriors of the shadows. They were not meant to ask questions in the harsh light of day.
"I did," Barty admitted. "It was a Sunday afternoon. I remember it well. I remember thinking that if I questioned Him, I questioned everything I am, everything I know, everything I've ever believed in. So I stopped questioning. Asking questions gets you killed in this line of work. And I wasn't strong enough to look myself in the mirror and think, even for a second, that I might be wrong. I can't handle it, Reg. It's not me." Barty wasn't looking at Regulus. He couldn't. The last time he'd been so open about his feelings, he was sure he'd been a boy sat on his mother's knee. Regulus, well, he was the only person Barty would ever bear his soul to. He'd learnt, over the many years they had known each other, that if anyone would let him speak without question, without judgement, then it was Regulus.
"I think that makes you stronger than me," Regulus said, bringing his arm up to stroke Barty's forearm.
"No, it doesn't, it makes me a fool. A weak, stupid fool," Barty commented, sneering at his own self-assessment.
"Barty," Regulus began, his honesty turning to pity.
"No, stop it!" Barty shouted, emotions breaking through his facade like they were stones thrown at a glass house. "I always loved you, Reg. I always will. And you know what's worse? I don't know how to live without you. I don't know how to be anyone but me; I don't know how to live a life that isn't the one I live now. I don't know what I am, Reg," he finished, his anger turning to tears as he broke down completely, falling into Regulus' arms, trembling.
"You are one of the best men I've ever known. That's who you'll be without me," Regulus whispered as his own tears began to fall, holding Barty with a strength he never knew himself capable of.
The two boys did not know how long they stood there, on a quiet beach on the south coast of England. Long enough for the last heat of the day to leave them shivering. It was ironic, Regulus noticed, that the one place they had always come to live, where they could wholly and utterly be themselves with each other and a bottle of Firewhiskey, was the one place they came to die. He knew that when they were done, they would part ways, leaving their relationship cracked and bleeding on the wet sand beneath their feet.
"What are you going to do?" Barty asked.
"I can't tell you…" Regulus replied, guilty. Barty nodded.
"Well, good luck," Barty said past the lump in his throat. "Maybe, one day, when this is all over, we'll meet again. Maybe we can meet as friends, one more time."
"Maybe," Regulus said, agreeing on the surface, but inside, he knew this was the end.
He walked away from Barty, every instinct in him telling him to turn around and run back. He did not.