nov 1 - orange | sunkiller | @sunkiller-microfics | word count: 909
If James had been paying attention, he might have realised what was happening a lot sooner than he did. It's just that it wasn't always easy for him to keep his focus on one thing at a time. His mind was chaotic at the best of times and an uncontrolled maelstrom at the worst. Meditation could only do so much, and would only calm him for so long. And medication made his head feel heavy, thoughts and feelings blurred like he was feeling his own feelings without his glasses on. Faded around the edges, nothing quite sharp enough.
The first time it happened, he barely noticed it at all. It had been so quick that he'd nearly missed it completely, so he didn't take any time to ponder the significance of Barty swapping their plates at the pub, not until they were being cleared away and he saw the orange smear of leftover tomato seeds on the younger mans plate. James would have bitten into his burger without checking it hadn't been included, and would have gagged at the slimy texture. Wouldn't have eaten anything after that first bite actually, as even taking it off would have left the meal tainted.
He hadn't taken any time to notice, but Barty had. Strange, that he didn't recall ever outright telling anyone he didn't like tomato. He'd always order meals without, and never cooked with it at home. But he'd never told anyone. But he put it away in the back of his mind, Barty must just really like tomato, is all.
The second time it happened, he didn't notice it at all until much later. He'd been so neck-deep in studying for exams that he was sure he was going to fail anyway, vision blurred from reading and wrists cramped from writing, that he'd collapsed into bed as soon as he'd returned to his flat. Hadn't even removed his notes from his bag before succumbing to slumber - fully dressed, only his shoes removed as he always did that at the door. He told himself it wasn't his fault that he was repeating his first year of uni, and he did have more support from the school this time round. Studying with Regulus, Evan and Barty had been jarring at first, all of them were so whip-smart and they took to the subject matter with such ease that James would often have to put his headphones on to block out their chatter as they didn't need to try nearly so hard as he did. So it had been a surprise to him the next morning, when tucked in between his own notes were Barty's. With added commentary and explanations that somehow worked ten times better than anything their lecturers said, almost specifically targeted for the way James' mind worked.
He tried to return the notes the next day, apologies falling from his lips for taking them accidentally. But Barty told him to keep them - said he didn't need them - so he did. And he passed the exam, not exactly with flying colours but enough to see him progress to second year. He knew, logically, that it was thanks to Barty's notes that he'd managed it - but again, he didn't think too hard on it. Barty clearly hadn't needed the notes back since he'd passed too, he must just be so smart he only needed to go over the material once.
The third time it happened though, James did notice. He'd had to escape from the end of year party for some fresh air - it was too loud, too hot, too crowded and he just needed ten minutes to breathe. So he'd gone to the place he always went, where not even Sirius was ever able to find him. He was hiding away at the top end of the alleyway between his and Sirius' apartment buildings, sitting on an overturned recycling box with his head tucked between his knees when he heard the shuffling of footsteps only a few feet away.
It shocked him at first, to see Barty standing there, holding out an open pack of cigarettes in offering with a small smile on his face. But it shouldn't have - not really. Because as he took in the first drag, lighting his cigarette from the one still dangling between Barty's lips, it all clicked.
This wasn't the third time that Barty had noticed something about James and acted on it at all. He remembered all the perfectly sugared coffees handed to him in the library when everyone else was left to doctor their own, because pausing his reading to alter his drink would make him lose his place. All of the times Barty took control of the playlist in the car whenever his grip on the steering wheel became too tight because Sirius was trying to play metal again and James was driving and needed something softer. He remembered the way Barty was the only other person to instinctively remove their shoes in his flat, the way he would nudge the others to remind them to do it.
James may not have been very good at paying attention to the world - but Barty had been paying attention to him. And now, sitting shoulder to shoulder in silence in the mild July night, music from three floors up bleeding through the air, James was paying attention back. And he smiled indulgently to himself when he realised that he liked what he saw.
