i love you in the same way (there’s a chapel in a hospital)
wcbah verse more charlie here
based off the prompt; — “so, uh… how’d your date go?” wcbah verse (but not required reading)
TW : mention of past abuse, mention of injury/scars from abuse, cursing, idiots in love
the door slams and charlie winces.
he can’t help it. scrambles to sit up on the couch, pull the blanket tighter over himself as he grabs handfuls of the blanket until his hands turn white-
“Hey,” He calls gently, feeling dumb for the way anxiety bubbles and eats at his belly, “In the front room.”
It's your house he's in, but it might as well be both of yours, the way you both spend so much time at one another's house. Besides, charlie would rather die than tell his father you're on a date and hear about it, and besides, he smelled how much liquor he had today-pass all along
He hears your shoes hit the wall and you’re slowly passing through rooms, your hand in the air as you let down your hair you spent an hour getting just right.
And you’re just as beautiful as charlie remembers.
That much time hasn’t passed, and he sees you everyday, but fuck-even with your make up a mess from the date, and the clothes are old and worn with age-he still thinks you look beautiful
He knew it was bound to happen.
When summer came and the tourists came with it, the people who could afford boats and jet skis and the incredibly high grocery prices you could never dream of, came people, and charlie knew they would be out of their mind to not think the world of you. He does; why wouldn't they?
He remembers the day clearly:
charlie spends his days in the hot summer sun, the sun beating on his back against old scars that linger and loop and curve into one another, the sun burns against them, makes them angry all over again and if he closes his eyes, really slams them shut, he can think of the nights he got them all over again
charlie tries to not think about it.
Instead, he throws his time and thoughts into work; Ms.Anderson needs her sea wall redone, and Mr.Burns wants stairs on his porch redone, Mr.Reyes wants the seaweed raked-he spends his time in the water, his old pants that he's constantly pulling up rolled to his knees, his shirt long discarded and thrown onto the yard
He's humming to himself, thinking of you, of coming over after he's done with the chores, throwing the shirt over the laundry line and flopping onto the porch in the old chairs that creek and groan with age and spending the rest of the night with you
"charlie!"
He jumps, hearing his name. it's a habit, more than anything, the fight or flight still hasn't left, even when he turns around and it's you, his eyes are wide and he looks panicked, even if his voice doesn't say it
"Hey sunshine,” he leans against the rake, playing it cool, trying to not think about the seaweed that's up to his waist, "Missed you."
You're giggling, and smiling, which isn't weird necessarily, charlie has always called you a ray of sunshine, as he slowly wades over in the water to the seawall, where his hand spots you out of instinct as you sit on the edge, let your toes dangle in the water: "Guess what."
"Hm," He smiles, all his weight against the rake, a smirk on his lips, "You won the lottery."
You huff, dipping your toe into the water just to throw it out so he's lightly splashed: "charlie, be serious."
Finally, he laughs with ease: "Alright, alright. Fine. Let's see-you fixed the light in your house."
You huff, "I forgot how bad at guessing games you are," you tease, "I'll tell you."
You're all but squealing, and while it's nice to see you excited and happy-seeing you all of the above and in one piece is unheard of
His hand rests on your knee, "Go on, sunshine."
You giggle, "You remember James, right?"
charlie has to stop himself from letting you see his eyes narrow, "James from two houses down?"
You nod frantically, "Yeah! Okay so-I brought over their laundry and it was just James there, right?"
"Yeah?" charlie says slowly, holds in the part of him that wants to say: If he hurt you-if he laid one finger on you, moved one piece of hair-i'll kill him, i swear i will- charlie knows he's not much of a threat, ask him father, but this is you, and that's different.
"He asked me out!" You squeal, "He wants to go to the Commander on Friday."
Immediately, your face drops when you see he isn't excited, isn't jumping around with you-
"baby-"
charlie chooses his words carefully. He's a dick? he considers, decides against it, Isn't for people like us? What if it's a joke? let me protect you-
"charlie, you are such a dick." You huff, carefully getting off the wall, "Fuck, I'm so stupid, thinking you'd be excited for me."
"Sorry I didn't immediately jump up and down, sunshine." charlie huffs, his chest is hot and he feels like his father's son immediately, "He seems like an asshole. Maybe you two are made for each other-"
"Fuck you." You say one more time, your finger jamming in the air, "Fuck you."
Days pass.
It's weird, not seeing charlie everyday, going out of your way to avoid him when you're getting mail, or when you have work around the house to do-not having your best friend to talk about your anxieties about it with, about every thought
it's thursday and the anger you had in your chest at charlie has subsided, leaving a charlie sized shape there now instead. You're gathering up your shoes, tired and ready to apologize and about to throw open the door when charlie stands on the other end, his fist raised in the air, ready to knock
"charlie."
"sunshine."
It's said at the same time, and you both know, just like that, it's all forgotten and forgiven.
"Are those from my garden?"
charlie holds a small bouquet of flowers in his hand, a death grip on them. You insisted he make a space in his yard for a garden, make the house more of a home-and he obeyed, kept it up after all this time.
"They're apology marigolds," he laughs at the small bouquet, turns them over in his hand, "For being a dick."
He spends the night the night before, in your twin sized mattress, his feet hanging over the end, his forearm or chest your pillow-and you're thankful for his presence, makes the anxiety that gnaws as you hear a car on the gravel pull up, honk twice.
charlie hides the grimace at him not even coming to the door, being a dick, as he expected but he doesn't let his face show it, his hand under your jaw:
"Be safe," he says gently, his voice is low and gravely, like it's a secret between you two, "I love you."
He leans in, his hand goes to behind your head as he pulls you in, kisses the top of your forehead and watches as you run out.
He's back to now as you come into the house, using one hand to take the earrings out of your ear.
"So," charlie pushes as he sits up straighter, "Tell me about it."
You sigh, flop into his lap like when you were little and he was going through the growing pains; you swore you woke up one day and he was no longer the tiny guy you knew last night, is tall and lanky like he's learning to walk for the first time-
immediately, his hands wrap around your waist, his chin on your shoulder, what he'll insist is the most comfortable spot in the house-not the chair on the porch that hits the sun just right, or the old rocking chair upstairs-right here.
"You know it kills me to say this," you say gently, your head against his chest, the other plays with his hair gently, grabbing the curls and running your hands through them, "But you were right. James is a dick.I ended the date early; said I wasn't feeling well."
charlie bites his tongue, to stop from saying what he's thinking which is: this is the one time i don't want to be right, darling.
Instead he sighs, the pad of his thumb gently rolls over your face, the freckles he has memorized, "I'm sorry it didn't work out, honey."
You shrug, "They'll be other dates, right? With different people."
He nods, resists the urge to say the obvious, to let it be him: "that's right." He lands a messy kiss to your head.
"Get changed," he throws his chin at your kitchen table, where some of his old pajamas, some old pants and a shirt from his high school band days folded carefully, "I got us some ice cream. You're just in time for the show."
You snort as you stand, but obey and grab the clothes, can already smell him on it- "What show?"
He smirks, looks at the mirror that overlooks the small lake as the sun slowly sets, "Stars will be out soon. Wouldn't miss it without you."
You hesitate, theres nothing else to say, before you pad gently to him, pull him close and kiss his forehead as you pad to the bathroom.
He waits until you are gone for his hand to gently rest where your lips touched, his face bright red.