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Rosekiller Microfic 3/20 "Voice"

I didnt plan on doing another but i was bored and have had hadestown!rosekiller stuck in my head so I thought this was perfect. This is a hadestown AU but you dont have to know hadestown to understand it- its basically a retelling of the Greek myth of Orpheus and Eurydice.

Word count: 1,061

Barty let out a cry as Evan slammed into him, their arms wrapped tightly around each other. Each boy's heart thumped against their chest, and they fell in a steady rhythm. Evan smelled like smoke and blood, so unlike himself. The usually white curls that Barty so loved to bury his hands in were dirty.

“You came for me,” Evan whispered, pulling back to look at Barty. His eyes were wide, frantic, and circled by dark rings. He had coal smudged across his sharp cheek bone. “I thought you hadn't heard me shouting,”

Barty's heart lunched. Staring at Evan, it was easy to forget where they were; the Underworld, surrounded by tortured souls. Evan was still beautiful, even colorless and sick-looking. But now, Barty forced himself to look away. He couldn't bear to face Evan or his own shame. “I hadn't,” he croaked out. “Hermes told me. I had been…I was so lost in my work and my song…I-" Barty dropped his head to Evan's chest, digging his nails into the latter boy's arms. “You're still alive,” tears burned his eyes. “I thought it would be too late,”

Evan nodded, his hands trembling as he cupped Barty's cheeks and forced him to look up. “Barty,” he whispered. “Take me home,” were his weak words. It was then that Barty realized how heavily Evan was leaning on him, how light he felt in his arms. Almost like his lover was a spirit already. He tightened his arms around Evan.

Barty's expression was pained. “I have no ring for your finger. Nor a wedding bed or a feast to set the table,” he whispered. “Not like I'd said before. I thought I could do it. I thought I could force nature to make those things for us,”

Barty felt agony as he thought back on everything he'd promised Evan, back when Evan had first walked into the inn and Barty had fallen in love instantly. He remembered the look of hope on Evan's face as Barty had sung his unfinished song, strumming his lyre. Bright red roses had bloomed around them, like drops of blood on the pale mattress they had been perched upon. Right before Evan let Barty push him down and love him gently. Back when he had promised Evan everything, and the boy had believed him. When he had believed himself.

Evan gave him a look of sympathy, his lips slightly parted. After a moment, he laughed softly. “I don't care, you idiot. Take me home.”

“But it's cold, back there. And so dark, there's no food- it's miserable-” Evan cut him off.

“Barty,” he said, firmer now. “Take me home.”

Hades was going to let them go. Under one condition. It was Barty who knew the way out. He would have to lead Evan. They would both be allowed to live if they made it back the whole way without Barty turning around to look at Evan. If Barty did look back, Evan would die and his soul would be trapped in the underworld forever. Barty would lose him. Without any other choice, they agreed.

Barty had always been a proud boy- people warned him not to be blinded by his own arrogance, but he had never been able to listen. When he had fallen in love with Evan, he had been sure he could always protect him. Despite everything that had happened, Barty was still sure. Evan, who never trusted anyone, trusted Barty completely. Perhaps this was fate's definition of playing fun.

“Follow my voice,” Barty whispered, gripping Evan's hands with his own. He kissed Evan's cheek softly, their noses brushing. Evan nodded, eyebrows furrowed in determination.

“Whatever happens, whatever you may hear, don't dare look back. I'll be right behind you,” Evan assured. “You must not look back,”

And so they began.

The road to hell was cold and long, filled with howling wolves and broken songs. Even against the biting wind, they walked confidently for a while. All was silent except for the occasional reassurance from Evan that he was still there. For all his confident stride, Barty felt dizzy with worry for his lover behind him. He kept his whole body focused on listening to Evan's soft breaths and the sound of his feet on the path.

They had done well, until Barty heard a voice, deep and gravelly.

“He's not with you anymore,”

Barty felt a surge of panic. “Huh?” He shouted, about to whirl around to see if the voice had been telling the truth.

“No!” Evan shrieked. “Stay facing forward! What are you doing?”

Yet the voices continued, getting louder and overwhelming Barty. Evan was gone. Why would Evan ever leave the luxury of the underworld to live a life of poverty with him? Evan wouldn't follow.

Barty could feel himself going mad with pain, emotional and mental. He raked at his chest, sobbing out. In the distance behind him, he heard Evan's voice pleading.

“I'm right here, Barty. I'm still with you. Keep going, I'm right here. Listen to my voice!”

His words sounded distorted and false, and Barty became more and more sure that Evan had left. That he was no longer behind him.

Barty kept pushing forward but he felt sick and scared. He was so tired. He wanted his lover safe and in his arms. He tried to stay focused on Evan's voice among the shrieking and violent ones, but his Rosie's cries grew fainter and fainter.

He saw the light of the world above several feet in front of him, and reached out to touch it with his fingers. He was forcing himself not to turn around, and he called his rose's name.

“Evan?” He wailed. Barty never wailed, he never lost composure in such a way.

No one responded except the voices telling Barty that Evan was gone.

“I can't do it,” Barty sobbed, for he was certain Evan was not with him anymore, that he had gone back to the Underworld. He forgot what the fates and Hermes had warned him- that he should not be deceived by the wretched souls of the underworld who wished to bring him pain.

The moment he spun away from the light, all the voices stopped and all Barty heard was Evan's anguished “No!”, loud and clear from directly behind him.

Evan was gone.

And Barty was alone.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

@rosekillermicrofic

#golly gee #rosekiller #marauders era #first wizarding war #marauders #evan rosier #barty crouch jr #slytherin skittles #the pantheon #the emeralds #rosekiller fic #rosekiller oneshot #rosekiller microfic #liv fics❀

GOD.

Just standing there staring at the place where, for all he knows, Hughes uttered his last words. Look at how small the roped off area is, where they must be doing the investigation. He didn't get very far. He just...fell. Do you think Roy's thinking about that? How he must have died under this streetlight?

And this is even giving it some ease--at this time sealant had not really been in wide use, so there's every reason to believe that a few days to a week later, there would still be blood sucked up by the stones. Do you want to look at it, Roy? Do you want to see what sort of fantasy continent drew out its bays and archipelagos in Hughes' blood?

He can stand there and run the scenario over and over again, but it's like that story of the chessboard: No matter how you move the pieces, the prince dies anyhow. If he had picked up the phone, he only would have heard the shot. But maybe then he'd know what Hughes said.

But it doesn't matter. The phone just sits there, no matter how many times you could swear you hear the effusive crackle on the other end of the line.

PLEASE DO NOT COMMENT ANYTHING THAT COULD EVEN REMOTELY LEAD TO ME REALIZING SOMETHING OR KNOWING SOMETHING NEW. Do not confirm, deny, draw attention to something I missed EVEN IF I SHOULD HAVE SEEN IT, contextualize in a cultural or historical way, anything. I hate that I have to be so specific but I am trying to experience this show totally clean. IF YOU SPOIL ME I WILL BLOCK YOU.

QUICK LINK TO THE SPOILER-FILLED FUNTIMES DISCORD HERE. THEY WOULD LOVE TO HEAR THE THINGS YOU KNOW AND YELL ABOUT ME

#Doc watches Fullmetal Alchemist #FMA ep 26 #Golly gee