For Jo and Leia, from Harry and Clara
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It hurts. You suppose that you should be accustomed to pain when Brad is involved, but it doesn't make it hurt any less. The pain, in fact, is worse than it usually is. This time you don't see the hint of recognition in his eyes; all you see is anger. There is no way to make this better, and you're not going to pretend that there is.
Instead, when you see him in the hallways at school, you drop your gaze, unwilling to look into those eyes that just a week ago held love for you. You need a distraction, you know this. Because if you're left to your own devices any longer, you'll surely drown in sorrow.
That night, you call the only person you know won't pity you for loving the wrong person – Charlie. When he answers, sleep is evident in his voice but he still comes with you. He'll always come with you. You drive as fast as you dare, blaring the music as loud as it will go, just to drown out the memories.
With him, you feel free. You don't feel the shackles of secrecy anymore. You don't have to hide who you are, and for the first time, you realize how much you wanted this freedom all along. Charlie has a way of comforting you without the words. He listens to you ramble about nothing in particular, and he nods at all the right times.
And somehow, you still manage to end up at the golf course that you used to come to with Brad late at night. You don't know why you came here. Maybe you've become so accustomed to coming that routine brought you here. Maybe it's because a small part of you is hoping that he shows up. But deep down, you know he won't.
You exchange stories and wine with Charlie for a while, watching the night come to life before your eyes. Through the drunken haze, you see Charlie smiling up at you. And the sudden urge to kiss him overwhelms you. Without hesitation, you press your lips against his. You feel him freeze beneath you, but you don't pull away.
A few seconds later, he relaxes. You pull away and apologize, but he just brushes it away because he's Charlie and everything just rolls off his back.
.
Charlie becomes your safe haven. He's where you can go when you want to do something to make you happy. He's where you go to forget. You pick him up, and take him to the first place that pops in your head. But every night is the same; you end up somewhere where you and Brad used to go, talking about Brad.
Charlie, though, never tells you to shut up. He never gets angry at you for talking about Brad. And for that, you're thankful.
You pass him the cigarette, and just talk. Sometimes, you play the music so loud that you can't hear your own thoughts as you drive through the tunnel. In those moments, you can barely hear Charlie over it as he climbs through the sliding glass, enjoying the ride. It's enough to make you really smile. He can do that – make you happy without really trying. It makes the pain go away for a while.
It's just before sunrise when you get him home, but he never complains. He stays in your truck, and lets you kiss him. You kiss him with everything you have. You're trying to fill a gap that will never completely be closed, but it doesn't stop you from trying. Before he leaves, you murmur, "Thanks, Charlie," against his lips.
He gives you a soft smile and walks away from you.
.
You don't know why you brought him here. You just want to fuck someone and you don't want to go that far with Charlie. You whisper your advice to him and take most of his cigarettes, leaving him on the bench while you go to find someone for the night.
After a few minutes of searching, you find someone. And mentally, you compare him to Brad, but you push the though away as you press your lips to his. He reacts almost immediately. It's a fight for dominance that you've never had before; it's not enough to make you pull away.
When you finish, your heart just hurts. The guy, with a name you didn't ask for, asks for a second round, but you shove him away roughly. It doesn't feel right with him. You fix your clothes and make your way back to Charlie.
He's still sitting on bench where you left him. When he sees you, he gives you a grin that you can't find in yourself to return. You walk to your truck and Charlie immediately follows. As you drop him off at his house, you press your lips against his, thinking it feels better than the nameless guy's.
.
You know it's a bad idea going back there. But you want some physical contact and know no other way of getting it. Charlie sits on the bench that he always occupies while you're here picking up someone.
As you go to walk away, you hear a groan. Your eyes move to the source of the sound, all the while, praying that it isn't who you think it is. But you see the unmistakable brown hair of Brad. And your heart stops.
From the looks of it, Brad is too caught up on the man in front of him to notice you. You turn to Charlie, and nod your head toward your truck. Charlie heads for your truck without having to be asked. He doesn't question you and he doesn't try to comfort you, for which you're thankful.
When you climb in your truck, you take a deep breath. You promised yourself that you wouldn't cry over Brad any longer, but you think that you might. Seeing him with someone who isn't you, with his hands tangled in hair that isn't yours, it hurts as bad as the day he called you a faggot.
You glance over at Charlie as you drive. He's just a distraction. That's all he's ever been. You tried to love him; you tried to care about him as more than a friend because he's safe. But you can't force yourself to do it because Brad will always come first in your life, even though he doesn't love you like you love him.
You pull into Charlie's driveway. And he closes his eyes, waiting for a kiss that you won't give anymore. Because kissing Charlie isn't right to him because you care about him, but you don't love him, and you can't pretend you do. His eyes flicker open a few moments later, an unspoken question on his lips. "Good night, Charlie," you whisper.
He says his goodbyes and gets out of your truck. As the door slams, you whisper, "I'm sorry," to nothing.
A/n – thanks to the lovely Paula for beta-ing this and telling me I didn't murder it.