Characters are property of CP Coulter. I definitely do not own Dalton or Glee.
Enjoy!
Freshman year, when Justin had come back from winter break with a sling on his arm and barely noticeable bruises under his heavy clothing, Charlie had mock punched him and called him a dainty little girl. It hadn't even crossed his mind to ask his new friend what had happened. Probably a skiing accident or a bar fight.
Instead he had started a ninja versus pirate debate. It wasn't that he was trying to avoid the topic to be polite, or that he was trying to cheer Justin up. Charlie actually hadn't thought to ask his friend if he was okay.
They weren't that kind of friends. Simple as that.
Sophomore year, on the first day of classes after winter holiday, when Justin rolled up his sleeves and revealed the bruises that were probably covering more of his body than just his arm, Charlie thought back to earlier in the day. He had thought that Justin was limping down the hallway…
This time he had thought more on the subject. When he thought about whether Justin's arm bruises were alone, he had let his mind roam over the idea of the rest of Justin's body. Quickly pretending this thought had not occurred, he took mental note to watch Justin leave class. To see if he was limping, of course.
But instead, Justin had left the classroom while Charlie was still in a worried reverie. He was already sitting down when Charlie showed up to lunch and was mocking something their history teacher had said.
It was so easy to be silly with Justin that by the time Charlie remembered his concern – as he watched Justin limp back to Hanover – it felt weird to ask about it. They usually texted jokes and homework questions all night, but the idea of texting his sympathies seemed…out of place.
They weren't that kind of friends. It was Charlie's only excuse.
Junior year, as Charlie watched Justin strolling back onto campus with a bag slung loosely over his shoulder and a black circle plastered snugly over his eye, he skipped right to worrying. It wasn't until later that day, when walking outside, that the Windsor and Hanover boys were close enough to talk, and Charlie wasted little time on greetings.
"Switzerland!" he called to the boy as he caught up with him.
Justin turned around and grinned, opening his arms for an appropriate hug. The kind that didn't last very long, where you pat each other on the back to avoid thinking of the warmth and emotion your hug was conveying. At least, that's how Charlie thought of it.
"Do your parents beat you or what?"
"What?" Justin's face contorted with laughter and surprise.
"If not that, then stop getting into fights when you're clearly too drunk to dodge."
"Oh." Justin raised his eyebrows as if considering a completely new idea. Charlie was talking about Justin's black eye.
Since when had Charlie and he become this kind of friends?
He didn't mind the idea of being that kind of friend with Charlie. Frankly, he didn't mind the idea of any time spent with Charlie. No one else made him laugh louder, no one else made him impatient waiting for a response to a text, and no one else made him comfortable enough to share his secrets.
"It's nothing, Chaz. Just a row with an old friend."
Suddenly, Justin felt uncomfortable instead, now unable to share this secret, even though he already had practically. He had told Chaz about his "mercenary" days last November as if he was telling him about a movie he'd seen once. But the idea of being closer to Charlie than anyone else panicked Justin more than it should have.
"An annual row?" Charlie refused to back down.
"What?" Justin didn't really think playing dumb could deter Charlie, but for some reason he felt compelled to try. Maybe he liked the idea of hearing Charlie admit that he noticed things about the boy.
"You come back, beat to shit, every January."
Charlie's eyelids sunk at the corners. While, somewhere in the back of his mind, Charlie felt his heart break silently at the idea of Justin repeatedly hurt, somewhere in the back of Justin's mind, he felt his own heart break at the expression on Charlie's face.
"Chaz…"
"Justin?"
Neither spoke for a moment as they locked eyes, Charlie's begging at Justin's.
"At least tell me you're okay," Charlie finally conceded. "Tell me not to worry."
This time Justin was sure that his heart break was audible. In contrast, his voice was not. "You worry?"
"Of course I worry," Charlie whispered back.
"Please don't worry." Justin didn't mean not to worry about his eye. He thought he meant not to worry about him, but in truth, he hadn't meant it at all. "It really is nothing. I always seem to stumble into someone or another. From the gang days. So in a way, it is an annual row."
"Can't you avoid that kind of company? Hang out in decent society?" Charlie's voice still hummed with desperation.
"That's just boring," Justin smirked.
"As glad as I am to see you entertained, I think I'd rather see you free of injury."
He gestured to Justin's arms, where he imagined bruises where there had been a year earlier. Justin, in an unplanned burst of boldness, grabbed the hand Charlie gestured with. He did not let it go.
"You're glad to see me entertained?" Justin smirked again.
"Is it really necessary to call me out on every embarrassing confession?" Charlie's eyes refused to leave their clasped hands.
"Two seconds ago I was wondering when we had become the kind of friends that talked about personal stuff, and now all I'm wondering is when we can become the kind of friends that are…well, not really just friends."
Justin used the hand he held to pull Charlie a little closer, either forgetting that they were in public or choosing to ignore it. Now Charlie stood only an inch away from him.
"I think…"Charlie breathed sharply as he felt Justin's breath on his lips. "That now would be a very good time."
Justin's lips curled into a smile only long enough to see Charlie begin the same action. He barely had to lean in to kissing the boy in front of him, but it felt like a leap. He didn't let the idea that he was indeed taking some form of leap distract him from the lips against his. He didn't let the catcalls from across the way distract him either. He felt only Charlie's lips, pressing back with the same desperation that had just laced his voice. And after a moment, the desperation slipped softly away from Justin's lips.
"You pick the fights, don't you?" Charlie whispered, leaning up to kiss Justin's black eye lightly. Not waiting for an answer, he added, "Please stop."
Senior year, as he wandered toward Hanover after Christmas break, Charlie eyed Justin suspiciously. He didn't see any signs of injury. But, he decided as he was led up to Justin's room, he should probably check more thoroughly.