Play It Again, Charlie (64 page)

Awareness flickered across Will's face. His lips shaped a circle.

“I don't mind, Charlie,” he answered just as slowly, his head falling to one side before he swung open the passenger door. There was a complicated moment of action and then a second of stillness as both of them moved and then stopped, and then Charlie shivered again as Will got him in the seat with his cane next to him and then leaned over him to buckle his seat belt.

He closed the door and was back on his side with the engine started before he spoke again. He exhaled heavily and then started to drive without looking over at Charlie.

“I know you're a little better, or the worse, for what smells like tequila, but I have to ask... . Why do you think I didn't like the sober-Charlie?”

“You left.” Charlie closed his eyes and let his thoughts swim. He swallowed the taste of vomit.

“You kicked me out.” Will sounded like he was correcting him.

Charlie opened his eyes. “No, I didn't. I am damn sure of that.” He had no idea why Will jumped and shot a startled look at him.

“But you... .” Will shut his mouth and faced the road again. There wasn't much traffic in this direction. It wasn't going to take them long to get home. Charlie leaned his head back and thought about rolling down the window, but he didn't want to move. The same old, sad music was playing. He didn't want to hear it so he started talking.

“Nana wants me to thank you for the flowers.” It would be impolite not to pass that on. Will glanced at him again. His mouth remained a tight line, as though he was holding words back. Charlie scowled but dropped it with a sigh.

“Jeanine says I only talk when I'm not sober, but that's not true,” he volunteered and got another quick look of disbelief. “I have a therapist. Had... I haven't seen him in a while. I talk to Jeanine all the time, but it's mostly about work or her love life. Then there's my family.” He felt too hot and sick again and turned toward the window, where it was cooler. “But I can't talk to them. My sisters, my abuela, they don't want that from me.

“You weren't right. It's about me, but it's not about me. My family wants me to be something else. Something strong.” He rolled his wrist and then stopped when it made him feel sick again. He stared at the dashboard instead. “Or better, all the time. The man. I can't... . You, that's not what you want, either, I know, but... .”

“Go on.”

Charlie jerked his head around when Will finally spoke. He parked and turned off the car and didn't look at Charlie as he undid his seat belt and then got out of the car and came around to his side.

He cleared his throat, but his voice stayed husky. Will shuddered when Charlie whispered against his throat, but didn't say anything about Charlie leaning on him this time.

“You won't leave?” Charlie asked the skin underneath Will's ear and felt more than heard Will's indrawn breath. “You don't have to do this.” Will's hands tightened around him. He didn't bother with the cane before slamming his car door and turning Charlie in the right direction. He gave a small grunt, probably because Charlie was heavy, but he didn't let go.

“I don't mind,” Will murmured a few minutes later, and Charlie nodded right as another shiver hit him.

“Good.” He panted but had to explain again, in case Will didn't get it. He raised his voice too. “I won't be like this all the time.”

“Drunk?” He wondered if Will really didn't understand or was pretending not to. Charlie shook his head. It was a mistake.

“Will, I don't feel well.” It just slipped out. He was sweating.

“Oh my God. What the
hell
were you drinking?” Will was breathing hard too, sort of furious and amused at the same time as he dragged Charlie out of the patch of flowers they'd replanted not too long ago and toward his door. Lights came on all over the place, but at the moment Charlie didn't care if anyone saw them or not.

Will had to dig through Charlie's pockets for the keys to the door, and when they were inside the kitchen with the door closed and the light on, he swore out loud. Charlie didn't think it had anything to do with how Charlie stumbled and pushed him into the door, or how he buried his face in Will's neck again and ran his hands over his chest. It kept the world from spinning.

“You seem like you're feeling better.” Will unfroze after a second and slid away from him. He glanced around and then went for the pain pills. Charlie trailed after him but stopped and tried to take them with some water when Will handed them to him.

“What do you want me to tell you?” he asked afterward, wiping his mouth, and he watched Will watch him. He touched his hip. “It did hurt. You said that and it's true. It did. It still does. Aches, sometimes. I wish it didn't. But... .”

“You have to be strong for them. I get it, Charlie.” Will's voice was soft but he wasn't moving. “You hid it from them, didn't you? I bet that makes it hurt worse. All there, with you every day, until you're miserable and cranky, and still you deny it.”

There was something in Will's tone, something he wanted to focus on but couldn't. Strong, Will had said, but Charlie just wanted to lie down.

“That's what people want. They don't want,” Charlie said as he waved at himself, splashing some water out of the glass, “a mess who can't walk, who lives out of a hospital. Ann saw, but even then she was sure I'd be okay, so I had to be okay. I love her, so it's fine. It's why I keep her pillows. It's fine.” He was so tired.

“Pillows.” Will couldn't stop staring. “
Fine
. Of course.” He stared for another moment and then took a slow breath and a step back. “You
are
kind of a mess, aren't you?” His eyes were hot with some emotion Charlie couldn't figure out.

He put a hand to his stomach. He would be okay again in no time, he thought, and wanted to tell Will that. Then the water and the pills hit him, and he bent over to heave into the sink.

He'd be dying of embarrassment if he weren't still pretty drunk. Will was suddenly standing next to him again. His hand settled halfway down Charlie's back, and he was talking like Charlie couldn't, in a silky, easy stream of words.

“You're okay. Just don't come up until you're done. Oh, what a mess you are. Look at you.” His hand started moving in circles, as though he had a lot of experience dealing with bad drunks. Charlie heard each feather-soft word, and his stomach clenched as though he might throw up again. One of Will's hands landed on top of his on the edge of the sink. “Look at you, Charlie.”

“Sorry,” Charlie managed when it was over and he was too wrung out to do anything but wait until the morning to hate himself. Will ran the cold water when he raised his head and then pulled a towel from the drawer. When he'd soaked it, he put it to the back of Charlie's neck. Charlie almost moaned at how good it felt.

“Wouldn't trade it,” Will said to the towel, then he glanced up at Charlie before looking away. He ducked under Charlie's arm again. “How about we go to the bathroom now, huh?”

The only sign it was a strain was the grunt Will let out when he deposited Charlie on the top of the closed toilet seat. “Don't move.” He dashed out and was back in a minute with another glass of water and new pills. “Rinse first.”

The stern expression on his face was different, and Charlie was tired, so he did as he was told and sat back when Will peeled his dirty shirt from him and used the wet towel to wipe his face.

“You're still looking at me like that.” Will glanced at him again as he dropped that towel and got a fresh, damp washcloth to wipe through Charlie's hair. He paused when Charlie pushed forward to sigh against his stomach.

“Sorry.”

“Charlie.” Will's fingers absently measured his hair, then let go. “You are not going to like yourself in the morning.” He patted Charlie's head and let out a shaky breath before stepping back. “Mouthwash.” He wasn't asking. He grabbed it and poured out a capful without a word.

Charlie obediently swished and spat and handed it back.

“I can do this myself. You don't have to.” He had to try again, though he knew what a pathetic picture he made.

“You know what, Charlie?” Will wiped his hands on a towel and stepped in to pull him to his feet. His words were clipped and precise. “I kind of doubt that. I kind of think if I wasn't here you'd be passed out on your bathroom floor and covered in puke like a twenty-one-year-old. I think you'd wake up in agony, and yet when your sisters would call you in the morning, you'd tell them you were fine.
Fine
. Then you'd listen to them for hours and not once mention that you could use some help because you wouldn't want them to think less of you, as if anyone could.”

He hadn't turned on the bedroom light. With the bathroom light behind him, Charlie couldn't see Will's face, but Will sat him on the bed and then hovered there, breathing hard.

“Shoes,” he said after a while, snapping his fingers and pointing to Charlie's feet, and Charlie did his best to kick them off. He choked when Will went for his belt and then his pants, but when they were on the floor and he reached up, Will stepped back.

“You don't have to go. It's a long drive.” Charlie knew it was lame. He knew Will was mad at him, disappointed in him for being such a mess. He still couldn't seem to care. “You could stay.”

Will tossed his head, an old Hollywood diva with Charlie's vomit all over his clothes. “Huh. Right. Ask me that again in the morning, if you still want me around.”

“I can't imagine who wouldn't. Paul was an idiot.” Charlie fell against his pillow, though he hadn't meant to lie down. He instantly felt heavy. His vision seemed to darken, fade.

“Who's Paul? Oh, right.” Will stood over him as though debating whether or not to tuck him in.

Charlie shook his head, then forgot about Paul. Paul didn't matter. “It's late to be driving. You could have an accident.”

“Would you worry?” Will must have decided to pull his blankets up around him. Charlie thought he might be passed out and dreaming already, because Will's tone seemed amused, not so angry anymore.

“So much.” The tequila wouldn't let him pretend otherwise.

“You already worry a lot, don't you, Charlie? About my safety, your family, everything.” There it was again, shock, realization, in the way Will said it. “You're so damn weighed down it's no wonder it hurts to walk.”

“What you must think of me.” Charlie quoted Will back at him. It hurt to even imagine Will furious or disgusted with him. “I tried to be what you want.”

Will made a sound and then didn't say anything for far too long. Charlie struggled to open his eyes and caught a glimpse of Will pulling off his T-shirt and folding it over his arm.

“What
I
want,” he repeated. He still didn't seem angry. His sigh was weary, but he placed the shirt at the edge of the bed and then removed his pants and did the same with them. “You aren't just a mess, you are incredibly fucked up, Charlie,” he remarked, but then he came around to the other side of the bed to climb in next to him.

“Sorry,” Charlie managed, aware he was apologizing too much. Will slid a hand over his side and exhaled on the back of his neck. Charlie was so hot it stuck and burned where their skin touched. “Sorry.”

“Don't be. It's actually kind of... .” Will tossed his head. “Shut up and go to sleep, Charlie.”

“You'll stay?” Charlie couldn't stop the question. “You'll be here?” Will's fingers curled into him, as though he was surprised.

“
Oh
.” Will moved like he might pull away, but didn't. He was barely breathing. “Oh, Charlie, if that isn't everything right there.” Charlie frowned, his head aching, and then Will spoke again, lightly. “Ask me in the morning, Charlie, my Charlie.”

It didn't exactly make sense, but Charlie was too tired to think it through, and Will was warm and safe at his back. He closed his eyes and let himself fall asleep.

He woke to the sensation of spinning and the awareness that the bathroom light was still on. He looked over to ease his dizziness by confirming where he was, and Will's hair brushed against his mouth. Will was under the covers and pressed up against him. Charlie must have turned, because he was curled around Will's back with one arm draped over him.

Sam was in a ball at the foot of the bed, by Will's feet. Will himself was breathing evenly, slowly in and out. Charlie wasn't surprised he hadn't taken the couch, but wasn't sure that ending up like this wasn't an accident, since they'd never lain like this before. He inhaled and held it, not wanting to sleep but not wanting to move.

His fingers flexed, curving into the flat, warm skin over Will's stomach, and then he shifted carefully closer, trying to get comfortable on his side without moving too much.

“Charlie.” Will startled him and eased his head back, so that when Charlie finally exhaled, some of his breath hit his throat. He smiled softly and then went still in almost the same moment as he opened his eyes. He pulled back, just an inch or so, but enough for Charlie to feel it though he didn't try to hold him.

For a second Will seemed confused too. “Is it morning?”

Charlie's mouth was dry, his throat burning with the need for water. He shook his head, though he supposed it was morning, even if it was dark outside.

“Oh.” Will took a moment, then slid further onto his back without taking his eyes from Charlie's face. “Are you still drunk?”

“Somewhat.” For whatever reason, his answer made Will snort. Maybe Charlie looked as dizzy as he felt.

“So everything's okay?” He frowned and didn't wait for an answer. “Then why were you groping me in the dark?”

“I wasn't.” Maybe his dizziness was just from being around Will again. He was having trouble keeping up.

“Tequila makes you pretty friendly,” Will pointed out. “Like a big drunk Charlie cuddle bear of my very own.”

“That wasn't tequila.” He knew he was blushing. He was never drinking again. “Cuddle bear?”

“Maybe a cuddle octopus.” He had no idea how much of his face Will could see, but he had a feeling it was a lot because Will kept staring at him. “If that wasn't tequila, what was it?”

“I told you.” It was difficult to keep himself from dropping back down to his pillow, where Will couldn't see him, especially when his limbs felt so heavy.