Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

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Imposter syndrome is the persistent inability to believe that one's success is deserved or has been legitimately achieved as a result of one's own efforts or skills. James is suffering with it now, as he sits crosslegged on the floor of his undecorated penthouse flat.

It’s a lovely neighbourhood… The type that James grew up in in Mexico. Upper middle class and a community. There are two parks that are only a short walk from James’ flat, there’s a coffee shop and a bakery. There’s a cresh, not that James would need to put Harry there but… maybe a job opportunity.

James doesn’t deserve a flat as nice as this. He “earnt” this money by riding a dildo and talking about how moldy his previous one was… Who is this PillowPrince guy?

The flat is two bedroom, one bathroom. It’s bare. Empty. He’ll have to wait a bit to decorate it… He has the stuff from his old flat he supposes, but… hopefully if this arrangement with PillowPrince continues, he’ll have enough money to decorate.

He has his bed, dining table, desk and some lamps from his old flat… He needs stuff for Harry, kitchen stuff, living room… Things on the walls to make this place less minimalist.

God, what is his life?

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Evan pulls his phone back, caressing Barty’s ass. “Did so well, Bee. Such a good boy.” Barty whimpers weakly, limp. “Want me to clean you out or let it leak out?”

“Mm…” Barty hums, rolling onto his red arse and back, Evan had his fun shall we say. “Leave… Cuddle, daddy.”

“Okay, baby boy,” Evan packs the toys they’d used away and cuddles into Barty, pulling his favourite blanket over them. “Was that okay, sweetheart?”

Barty nods, clinging to Evan and nuzzling into his neck. Barty’s softer like this. None of that volume in his mind rattling around. None of the overthinking, none of the intrusive thoughts, none of the things that make Barty… Barty. But this is still a big part of him. It’s the him he is when he’s with someone he trusts and god is Evan glad to be someone Barty trusts.

Evan remembers when he first met Barty. It was the same day he met Regulus and… he just felt incredibly sorry for both of them. Barty was high off his ass and was being held up by Regulus while Regulus kept popping happy pills. They were… a sad sight. They’d known each other since they were incredibly young. Close families and all that.

Evan had always sort of felt like he was intruding, at least until he and Barty started dating. He always sort of felt like Regulus and Barty were endgame… well until Barty showed up at his doorstep with slit wrists and a runny nose telling Evan he’d relapsed again.

Rolling over and cuddling his face into Evan’s neck, Evan feels Barty start to slowly slip into the vicious grips of sleep.

“I love you,” Evan whispers, always too scared to say it when Barty can hear.

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James spent the day tiring Harry out… Which, believe him, is a hard task when both you and your son are hyper people… But now they lie on Harry’s bed that Harry helped James pick out (a sort of toddler bed with spiderman on the footboard and sides. It has a cute spider web tent over it too, it’s the type of bed James could only dream of buying Harry before PillowPrince…) they’re both tired and Harry is only just hanging on to the edge of consciousness.

“Papi, can you sing?” Harry asks sleepily, looking up at James. How could James ever say no to that little face?

“Of course, baby,” James replies, lying Harry down and kneeling next to his classy ass bed. “Get comfy hm?”

Harry wiggles into his soft new duvet, making a content little happy noise and looking at James expectantly. God, James has never related to ABBA more… His funny little boy… He remembers first seeing Harry, thinking he looks just like James, but with Lily’s eyes. Harry was just as wiggly then and will hopefully always be. Bambi. James’ Bambi.

“There’s a faraway land so the stories all tell,” James starts the familiar tune softly, his voice low and warm. “Somewhere beyond the horizon. If we can find it then all will be well, troubles there are few. Someday we’ll go to… Solla Sollew… Solla Sollew. Solla Sollew… Solla Sollew.”

Harry slowly drifts off to the sound of his father’s song.

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Evan sits on the balcony, legs hanging through the railing as he lies on his back, staring up at the stars. Regulus’ star is out tonight, shining brightly… Almost as bright as Regulus shines.

The houses Evan lives in are smaller than most people would expect for the CEO of Pear phones… He has two cottages. A cottage near the estate in France that Regulus lives on and the one he’s currently staying in. A little cottage in Krakow, Poland that he’s recently started sharing with Barty. It’s homely and warm, no big lights, the entire house lit up by lamps and some LEDs in the main bedroom for when Evan and Barty want to make sex a bit more colourful.

It reminds Evan of the house he grew up in, the one that’s long knocked down now… Further east than Krakow and by a lake that hardly anyone knew about.. Evan’s mother used to tell him and his sister of a land not far from that lakeside cottage he grew up in, in the form of a lullaby.

“They say breezes are warm there and people are kind,” Evan sings softly, fiddling with the ties of his grey joggers. “Maybe it’s something like heaven… I close my eyes and I see in my mind, skies of bluest blue… Solla Sollew…”

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Barty stirs alone. He sits up slowly and blinks as the darkness comes into focus. Evan’s outside, looking at the stars again and thinking. As usual, Barty decides to leave him to it as he hears Evan’s warm and low voice gliding over soft notes.

The lullaby Evan sings to himself most nights is similar to one that Barty’s mum used to sing to him about a place away from her husband… Away from the hurt he causes.

“I’ve had so much trouble finding my way there,” Barty hums, picturing his mother playing with his hair as she comforts her daughter. The son his mother never got to meet. “When I get close- It disappears. If we can get there, we’re gonna stay there.”

Barty meets eyes with his mother as he hears her voice in his ear, “If it takes us miles…”

“If it takes us miles…” He echoes, tearing up slightly.

“If it takes us years,” they finish as she disappears and Evan steps back inside the bedroom, walking over and sitting next to Barty, wiping the brunette's eyes.

“My sweet boy…” Evan whispers, lying down and pulling Barty into his chest, kissing the younger boy’s hair as Barty starts softly crying into Evan’s shirt.

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Narcissa lies in Regulus’ bed next to him. He told her about Jamie and while she doesn’t fully approve she understands how lonely Regulus feels so much of the time. Yes, he has Evan and Barty but they have each other more than they have him.

She also understands how this time of year is harder for Regulus. It’s been 5 years since Sirius left, to the date and it hurts remembering that… Even if Regulus is the reason Sirius got away.

5 years ago, Sirius kissed one of their servants. One of their male servants. He kissed one of their male servants while drunk off his tits at a party. Walburga and Orion lost it, it was all over the tabloids. Sirius was beaten half to death when Regulus found him so he had sent Kreacher to take him to London. The place Sirius wanted to go…

Narcissa still remembers the lullaby Sirius used to sing to Regulus. Honestly, Regulus doesn’t think he’d still be alive without Narcissa.

She plays with his hair as she starts singing, “High on a mountain or lost in the sea, sooner or later I’ll find it. I have a picture of how it will be on the day I do… Troubles will be through and I’ll be home… with you.”

He’s not. Sirius isn’t home and may never be. It reminds Regulus of a quote from the book Heroes. The only book Sirius ever recommended him. “It’s amazing how a heart makes no noise when it shatters” and oh isn’t it?

“Solla Sollew… Solla Sollew,” Narcissa chirps warmly as the violent throes of sleep pull Regulus in like a corpse being pulled away in the tide. “Solla Sollew… Solla Sollew. Solla Sollew… Solla Sollew. Solla Sollew….”

She leaves the gap for him, and Regulus forces out weakly, “I’ll be home… with you.” His voice glides softly over the high notes, the traces of femininity never truly leaving.

“Solla Sollew....” Narcissa finishes, them both surely drifting into the swirling abyss of rest.

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