Play It Again, Charlie (65 page)

“You were happy to see me?” Will's gaze was bright, but the question was subdued, like he didn't quite believe that. “You were sad I left?”

Charlie's stomach turned at that ridiculous question, and he shook his head, spinning world be damned. He nodded. Will didn't move. Charlie decided to study his sleeping cat.

“Yes.” But he looked back at Will without meaning to, and his voice got rough. “Yes, I was.” He didn't sound sad, he sounded angry, furious at something that wasn't Will's fault. He pulled his hand away, and Will let out a small, hurt sound. Charlie instantly slid his hand back over his stomach.

“Are you pissed at me?”

“You left.” It barely slipped out, and it wouldn't have at all if not for the alcohol. Charlie heard it anyway, frightened and bare, and frowned at himself, his pounding head, his nervous, dry mouth. “But I don't blame y— ”

The sensation of Will turning into him and putting a hand on his hip shut him up. Will's breathing quickened, then he dropped his head to mumble against Charlie's chest.

“I didn't think you wanted me to stay. You didn't say so. I didn't even know how much I wanted you to until you didn't. It didn't feel good, Charlie. It felt like you didn't want me.”

“Who wouldn't want you?” Charlie was honestly lost. Will made a noise, maybe pissed off too, and then his hand pushed at Charlie's shoulder, shoving and holding him still at the same time. It was painful and even more confusing.

“You have this weird way of seeing me.” Will's tone wasn't graceful or refined or even playful. His voice was a bruise. “To you, I'm this thing everyone wants, aren't I? That's... it's just not true.” He seemed to realize he was babbling and that Charlie was about to protest because he cleared his throat and raised his head. “But
you
want me, Charlie, don't you? Even though you never said.” He wasn't being sarcastic; he was far too earnest and out of breath.

“What I want.” Charlie couldn't quite get it out. “It's too much.”

“You know what I want?” Will didn't seem to hear him as his words picked up speed. “It probably seems stupid. I mean, all this time you've been worried the sex was all I wanted because it was the only thing I said I wanted, when it wasn't. God, did you even
want
to do those things to me?” The tiny voice wasn't how Will should sound at all.

Charlie shook his head and swallowed when Will's gaze locked onto him, demanding an answer. “That was something I would never have dared to ask for.”

Will just snorted. “Yeah, right, Charlie. That's why I had talk you into it and— ”

“No.” Charlie moved, pushing Will further into the bed and then leaning over him to make himself as clear as he could. “I mean it, Will. I like being that for you.”

He was hot, possibly flushed, but so was Will, who licked his lips and made a clear and obvious effort to respond.

“Charlie.” His chest heaved. “'Tell me no dreams'. I mean, if you're on fire... .” His hand found Charlie's shoulder again. “I mean...
words
. I just wanted... .” He huffed and turned his face away. “To
know
, you know?” Will turned back. “If you felt like I did. It was nice, more than nice, but I don't know about these things and... .”

“You want me?” Charlie had a vague memory of Will calling him messed up. He wanted to know how Will could want him if that was true, but he couldn't seem to ask. Even drunk he knew it was stupid. He swallowed and jerked away from Will's silent stare, falling back to his pillow and shutting his eyes tight.

Will let out an exasperated breath. He was still pressed to Charlie's side but turned to face him, practically curling around him. Charlie opened his eyes. For a few moments they just lay together.

“What's too much?” Will broke the silence. Charlie didn't quite follow, but an answer slipped out anyway.

“Everything.” He couldn't take it back. Will had heard, judging from his quick, dry inhale. It was a frightening, clingy thing to admit to, especially with Will already so unsure. “Stay,” he changed it to, though it was no less pathetic. “I just... want you to stay.”

“You're not asking for much, are you?” He couldn't tell if Will was being sarcastic or not. “Fuck. I want... .” He pressed closer and finished in a whisper. “You really want me?”

“Will.” Charlie sighed and Will went quiet, maybe happy to let Charlie make a bigger fool of himself. “How could you think I don't?”

“Oh fuck you, Professor,” Will answered, too softly to be angry, and he lifted his head to stare down at him. Since Charlie couldn't get up without falling over and wasn't quite sure where anything was except Will, he let him, trying not to move, focusing on the still strength at his side.

Finally Will settled back down against him. He didn't speak. Charlie waited, dizzy when he opened his eyes, when he closed them, until he had to do something.

“I don't know what this means,” he admitted, and Will laughed, amused and fond and sad too. He ended it by burrowing down under the covers and scooting closer. Charlie wondered if Will was aware of how tightly he was holding onto his arm. Charlie could feel his grip even through the swirling haze.

“It means, see how you feel about it tomorrow, Charlie.” Will was still so quiet and unconvinced. Charlie turned onto his side to curl into the mattress and took Will's arm with him, his hand, until Will was pressed close against his back and Will had to slide a leg over him to get comfortable.

Charlie knew how he felt about it. He thought it had been obvious, and he pulled Will's hand up to his and left them together, tight against his chest. He could feel Will's startled, fast breathing and closed his eyes.

“Whatever you say, Will,” he whispered. He was so tired the world was black and spinning behind his eyes, but he shivered at the shocked exhale against the back of his neck and held on to consciousness until he felt Will say his name and then relax against him.

Charlie's phone was ringing, and he had the feeling it had
been
ringing. The sound was far away, but Charlie recognized it and turned to find it without thinking. The sound wasn't coming from the floor, where he was pretty certain he'd left his pants, but when he thought about it, he had a memory of Will removing them and then Will crawling into bed with him. Then he remembered what had happened after that.

He sat up fast and knew it was a mistake the moment the morning light hit him and all the blood in his entire body seemed rush into his head, which began to throb. His mouth was bone dry, but he held still and waited until some of the headache eased and there wasn't so much horrible spinning.

There was no sign of Will in his bedroom, but the door was partly open, and once the phone stopped ringing he could hear an ominous banging sound coming from his kitchen. The sound made him smile for a moment. Then he froze, because Will hadn't been in his apartment yesterday because Will thought Charlie had kicked him out. There was more, something he needed to remember.

There'd been some talk of this morning, though he couldn't remember it at the moment. He didn't think it was the hangover making him feel so cold, though it might have been the reason that the smell wafting in from the kitchen made him recall how many times he'd thrown up the night before.

He closed his eyes, opened them, then very, very slowly slid out of bed and went into the bathroom.

He tried not to think of Will's hands running over his back to soothe him and completely failed. It was a further humiliation to see that Will had also cleaned up the mess he'd made. He noticed that after he'd gone and flushed, but he washed his hands and splashed cool water on his face and slurped some from his hands before coming back out. He found a fresh pair of briefs since his used ones were also in a neat pile of dirty laundry and then stumbled into an athletic shirt and some jeans. He left the plastic bracelet from the club where it was, though when he touched it he remembered the noise and calling Will.

He sucked in a breath and left his bedroom to find Will or his phone, whichever came first. He hoped it was Will.

The smell was burning bread, which he identified as he entered his kitchen and saw Will staring at a blackened piece of toast. Will jerked his head up, then twitched like he wanted to throw the toast away but it was too late because Charlie had already seen it.

“Your toaster is complicated.”

“You're cooking?” He shouldn't sound so surprised, he knew that, though Will didn't seem offended. He set the toast aside and dusted the crumbs from his fingertips. He was wearing his jeans from last night but one of Charlie's shirts and probably Charlie's underwear, as well. He looked scrubbed and showered and wonderful.

“I'm trying,” he remarked playfully and then shrugged. “Coffee? That I can do. I can make coffee to die for.”

Charlie nodded gratefully at the offer, though he knew he needed water, then paused to frown when Will moved and he could see the stove.

One of his pans was now also blackened and full of what had once probably been eggs. There was a fork in the pan, something Charlie was too tired and too hungover and too nervous to deal with, though he did pull out a silicone spoon and leave it pointedly by the stove. That pan was useless now, but judging from the look on Will's face when he turned back around, he got the message.

“Shit.” He gulped, and maybe it was because Charlie felt like crap, but he noticed how Will looked cold and sick too, like he was anxious too. “Did I ruin your pan? Sorry.”

“It's okay.” Charlie waved it off. He could have distracted Will by asking what kind of eggs he had been trying to make, but his stomach warned him against it.

“How's your head?” Will was next to him with a cup of coffee in the next second, watching him carefully before he turned away to take a sip of his own. He was drinking from the cup with Mark on it again, because he was an evil minx who liked dramatic gestures. Charlie didn't remark on that either. He just stared at Will, in his clothes, in his kitchen, trying hard to make his breakfast when Charlie was the one who had pushed him away and then thrown up all over him when he'd come back.

Maybe Will was thinking something similar. “Quite the bender you had last night,” he said in the next second.

Charlie put down his coffee and made sure the stove was turned off as he went to the sink to get water. He leaned on the counter and let Will watch him as he finished one glass and took a drink from a second one.

“It's not just a cliche. I actually can't seem to cook eggs.” Will pouted after a while. It wasn't quite an act, but his expression wasn't as relaxed as it could have been. “And I looked it up online and everything. I can try again.”

“Please don't.” In an hour or so, Charlie might come up with a smile. Will pouted some more, then took a sip of coffee when the room went quiet.

“How bad is it? I thought you threw up most of the booze. And you got some pills down, at least.”

“It was cheap tequila and I didn't eat.” Charlie's excuses didn't mean much if he considered how many shots he'd done. He gagged and quickly drank some more water. “I don't think I should think about it right now.”

“Right.” Will nodded. “But, yeah, you have to ask for top shelf there. So you know for the future. If you want to get drunk and spill your guts again anytime soon.” Charlie glanced over and saw the brief, sly smile. He blinked, and it all hit him: being in the car, being in his bathroom, being in bed with Will, and how Will had been the one listening and Charlie had been the one saying anything and everything that had sprung to mind.

“Why are you cooking?” He changed the subject, but this time he put down the water to really observe Will as he answered. Will rolled his shoulders and gave an airy wave.

“I wanted to.” Will bounced and then scowled. “You know,” he began, far too casually, “you have, like, no food in here, Charlie.”

“Uh-huh.” Charlie shot him a sideways look, then moved, very slowly, to get himself some lactose-free milk to pour into his coffee. His fridge
was
mostly empty, but he'd known that. He was a mess, and now they both knew it. But it had to mean something that Will was still there.

“Did you... want some toast?” But Will's hesitation made him pause and turn around. All he got for his trouble was an innocent look.

“If you feel like making it. I think I left the toaster on a high setting.” His pills were out by the sink. The empty bottle was open, like a silent accusation. Charlie considered it as he swallowed two of the other ones with his too hot coffee. Will asking if he needed to get drunk again, pointing out that Charlie hadn't been eating, that he'd been taking too many pills for too much pain. He exhaled.

“No, I didn't take care of myself while you were gone,” he admitted, since that was clearly the point of this attempt at breakfast. Will stepped closer.

“You didn't, did you? I knew it!”

“I was fine.” Charlie said it out of reflex and knew it was a mistake when Will stepped back.

“Fine.” He slurped his coffee and then almost slammed it down. “You know, I think I'd like to ban that word.”

Charlie glanced over at him but his gaze got stuck. There was something about Will's furious, uncertain stare. It was similar to the way he crossed his arms, like he was truly upset but didn't know what to do about it, or perhaps just didn't know what he was allowed to do about it.

“Oh.” Charlie realized he'd said it out loud, like Will did, and quickly took another burning sip of coffee as he thought about it. Then he let out a breath and nodded. It was amazing how instantly most of the tension dropped from Will's shoulders. Charlie wanted to take away the rest of it too.

“I put other people before myself, Will.” It was worse than a therapy session. A therapist
had
to stay. “I've worried for so long I can't help it. I don't get drunk because I'm usually the one who has to drive people home.”

“Clean up after them?” Thank God Will got it. Charlie nodded again.

“People rely on me, and I don't mind. I like to be there for them. I like taking care of people. But sometimes... .” That was as far as he could go before everything got caught in his throat. He looked over into Will's intent expression and hoped that would do.