Written for the The Wizarding World's Annual Hunger Games Competition.

Prompts: [song] Alone Sometimes — The Mowgli's, [word] Dark

This story makes the most sense when you listen to Alone Sometimes.

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Why he still lived at their - now his - apartment, Barty didn't know. Well, he did. The sole reason was that he simply didn't have anywhere else to go. No family, no friends, no one who would welcome him in their home. The only one who'd tolerated him - who'd loved him - had gone. And it was driving him crazy. Regulus was no longer there - no longer with him -, but the whole house reminded Barty of Regulus. It was like a ghost that was always there; in the corner of his eye. Hidden, but present, no matter how hard Barty tried to wish it away.

A few days ago, in a fit of rage, Barty had thrown all the pictures in the house on the street and obliterated every possession Reg had left behind. But even with everything that could remind him of the boy - no he became a man long ago - gone, Barty could still see the memories before his eyes. Every corner of the place was filled with images of him and Reg. Them drinking coffee in the kitchen, playfully chasing each other around the living room, laughing at each other's stupid jokes, just being happy.

It drove him crazy. And made him so, so angry.

Barty growled and covered his ears, trying not to hear Regulus' laughter, but it was an illusion - a memory playing out before his eyes - and he couldn't block a sound he was imagining. He backed away, until he stood against the wall. Desperate, he send a spell to the ghost chasing him. A burn marked the carpet where the magic had hit. For a moment, the laughter stopped and Barty let out a soft sigh of relieve. But then it came back, louder and attacking his ears from everywhere. All the happy memories there, in that room, taunting him. Barty collapsed and glided down the wall. His hands still covering his head while he let the tears stream down his cheeks. The smell of burning fabric filling his nose.

"Just go away,' he muttered.

Abruptly, he stood. And used the back of his hands to wipe the tears away. No. He wasn't going to do this. He wasn't going to sit there crying. He wasn't going to let his life be destroyed by the one he cared most about, but who didn't seem to care about him.

The wooden door slammed shut behind him and he ran. The rhythm of his footsteps calming him down. Cold air left and entered his lungs in a hurry and finally he felt like he was breathing again. A small smile tugged at his lips and he accelerated even more, pushing himself to go past his top speed.

It didn't matter. He'd left, so what! He'd lied - so many times -, but Barty wouldn't lose sleep over it anymore. Regulus had gone without being bothered by it, so why the hell should it bother him.

Barty stopped, catching his breath. He'd left the ghosts behind in that stupid apartment. They didn't have a hold on him here. It was night, the street was deserted and he was alone. Finally alone. No one asking him how he was coping and no ghosts of the past haunting him.

His hands touched the brick wall of the building behind him and he felt like he had a grip on the world again. He hadn't been alone in so long and had forgotten how much he loved it. How the peace and quiet made his mind clearer and made him able to make his own decisions, without people forcing their opinions on him.

He stayed that way, seated on the street. Breathing in the night air, the wall supporting his back. Until the morning came and the place became flooded with people.

Regulus had left without even telling him. He'd just gone, only leaving a lettre - just a single sentence on a piece of paper.

'I'm sorry'

Barty hadn't believed it and for a week, he'd been waiting for Reg to come home. But he didn't. And now Barty was suffocating. He couldn't breath, even though the room was filled with oxygen. And it was killing him.

The dark mark burned on his arm, urging him to his master. He wondered why he continued going on missions, but still he disapparated.

He bowed before his Lord: "Where do you want me to go?"

And he kept going.

He could live without Reg. Regulus didn't need him, so why the hell would Barty need that coward. Barty told himself this over and over again. Trying to convince himself. And at some point, he started believing it.

When the screams had died and everyone had left, his own thoughts took over again. It felt good to be alone. No worries, no expectations. Every time he heard the silence a smile tugged at his lips and he couldn't help, but feel alive. No screams or laughter that made him unable to think. Just him, the night and the quiet.

Maybe it was just his fucked up mind, but he didn't miss Regulus anymore. He'd stopped having nights where he woke up, afraid because he couldn't find Reg, only to remember he'd left. Now he felt like he had won the lottery. Love was weakness. Loyalty was what would survive in the end. And his loyalty lay with his Lord.

And god did he love those moments in which it was just him. Alone in the dark. The battle over and bodies spread all over the place.
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I'm thinking about writing a second chapter from Regulus' POV, but for now I'm marking this story as a oneshot.