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"I'm not doing this."
"Don't be so dramatic. You see each other all the time—hell, you live together."
Stephen takes another sip of his red wine and points at Knox. "That's besides the point."
They're standing together at the snack table dragged up to Gerard's roof for Chris's "Thank God We Survived Midterms/We're All Too Poor to Travel for Spring Break" party. The rest of their friends are scattered around their corner of the roof, along with people Stephen doesn't recognize but assumes wandered up from their own apartments at the mention of free food. Everything is going great and is miles better than spending another Friday night alone in his room.
The only problem, of course, is the one person he would be ignoring at home: his roommate, best friend, and ex-boyfriend, Charlie Dalton.
Knox looks skeptical as he says, "I don't really think it is. You live together , a party's not that different."
"Knox! There is wine!" Stephen gesticulates with the hand not holding his glass. "You know how wine gets me!"
Ever since he and Charlie broke up, Stephen has been experiencing... self-control issues. It's not because he wants to punch them in the face (or at least, not any more so than unusual) or anything like that; it's really the opposite.
Since they broke up, Charlie's been a better person than they've ever been before, really. They're always super considerate and caring and all emotionally available? It's weird, but not bad, except for how it makes Stephen want to totally make out with their face, which he can't because it would ruin his tough stance on maturity.
"Yeah," Knox says, interrupting Stephen's quickly deteriorating train of thought. "You've got it so hard. There's someone who is madly in love with you that wants to be a better person and you love them back. Boo frickin' hoo." He sighs and stares off into the distance conveniently behind Chris on the other side of the roof.
Stephen considers responding but decides not to when he realizes that it would just be asking for another speech about how Knox and Chris were meant to be together. He really isn't in the mood to deal with other people's romantic entanglements when he is stressed out enough by his own.
The problem wasn't that they didn't love each other. They wouldn't have gotten this far as both a couple and friends if they didn't. Anyone in the same room as Charlie and Stephen for long enough could see it—not because they basically had cartoon hearts floating over their heads or were always all over each other (they were actually the opposite), but from the way one was tilted towards the other when standing next to them, or how Charlie always had one ear open to Stephen's snide comments and they would glance at each other ruefully when someone else said something reminiscent of one of their many inside jokes.
They were in love, that was for sure. But as Stephen had quickly learned in the two months they were together, that wasn't everything. They could be Jack and Rose on the fucking Titanic and it wouldn't be worth shit if they couldn't, say, communicate. Or if they had different ideas of commitment. Or if one of them was emotionally unavailable past a certain degree.
Stephen shakes his head once to clear his thoughts and brushes back the bit of hair that's fallen in his eyes. "Knock it off, Knox," he says as he leans back against the table.
Knox raises his free hand defensively. "I'm just saying. Don't throw away something honest because you're stubborn." He munches on a baby carrot like he hadn't just said something profound enough that Stephen has completely frozen mid-sip.
"Hey!" Stephen looks up again when Knox starts waving at someone by the door. There isn't enough time for him to hide (as much as he wants to) before Charlie sees them and heads across the roof to join them. Stephen knocks back the rest of his wine before they get there both as an excuse to turn back to the table and as something to steel himself with.
He's still fiddling with the nozzle on the boxed wine when Charlie and Knox finish their ridiculous secret handshake. Every year or so they add more to it, so the original thirty second exchange they invented in fifth grade is now considerably longer.
"Hey, Stephen," Charlie says when they notice him still standing there. "How's it going?"
"Fine."
Knox has an expectantly hopeful look as his gaze bounces back and forth between the two, like a kid watching their divorced parents making nice at Christmas, not knowing the difference between actual happiness and their forced grins. "How are you, Charlie?" He asks.
Even Charlie seems to notice how ridiculously chipper Knox is and raises an eyebrow. "I'm doing great, Knoxious, thanks for asking."
Stephen can't help but laugh a little into his glass as Knox nods, oblivious. When he looks up again, Charlie is watching him with that certain brand of quiet adoration Stephen hadn't realized he had grown so familiar with. They don't look away when they realize Stephen is looking back, just smile. After a moment, Stephen finds himself smiling back and has to quickly look away.
"So how'd your physics final go?"
Their small talk is just casual conversation, like they were only friends catching up after a hectic week, like they hadn't each broken the other's heart. Every glancing smile sent Stephen's way from Charlie and knowing laugh at Charlie's inside jokes from Stephen only seemed to bolster Knox's excitement. He was practically vibrating, eager to give them the last push to topple them back into each other's arms, and Stephen was wary.
As Charlie is telling them about the girl who showed up twenty minutes late to their final, Knox starts edging towards the snack table.
"And so she's pounding on the door," Charlie says, "but everybody's already on like page two of all this shit, so the prof's just like—Knox, what are you doing?"
Knox is miles from inconspicuous as he picks up and shakes every bag on the table to find the only empty one. "Hm?" He says as he turns from his task with the face of innocence. "Oh, I was, uh... Hey, we're out of tortilla chips."
Charlie rolls their eyes and takes the bag before Knox can finish the thought. "Alright, fine, I'll go get more. See you in a sec." They turn and nod to Stephen before heading to the stairs, shaking their head at Knox's beaming smile.
"You're the best, Charlie!" He calls after them. Knox seems unperturbed by their lack of response and turns on Stephen, who suddenly feels very exposed.
When Knox continues to look at him and not say anything, Stephen asks, "Why are you staring at me like that?"
"Nothing." Knox smiles more and tucks his hands into his pockets. Stephen wouldn't be surprised if he started whistling, he looked that pleased. On one hand, Stephen didn't want to know, but on the other, he knew Knox was going to taunt him with not knowing until he asked.
"Already, give it up," Stephen says when Knox starts rocking back on his heels and humming. "What is it?"
Knox glances at his wrist as though there's a watch on it and says, "Gosh, Charlie's been gone a while, don't you think? Maybe they need some help finding those chips."
"It's been two minutes. Max. That's not even enough to get to all the way downstairs."
"But maybe," Knox leans in conspiratorially, "you should go help them."
It only takes a few more nudges and winks before Stephen relents. He throws up his hands, heading toward the stairs as he says, "Alright! Fine."
"You won't regret it!"
Stephen lets the door swing shut behind him and goes a few steps before pulling out his phone to call Gerard. He understood full well what Knox was trying to do, but the possibility that he may agree was enough to warrant getting a second opinion.
"God, would you tell Knox I'm getting the freaking chips and I'll be back in, like, ten minutes," Gerard says in lieu of a greeting. Only two seconds into the call and he's already confirmed Stephen's suspicions.
"I knew it," Stephen says. He leans back and shifts the phone against his ear. "I knew it was a trap."
"Knew what was—Is Knox trying to parent trap you guys again?"
"Got it in one."
Gerard laughs for an inordinate amount of time at that, so long that Stephen is tempted to hang up on him.
"You're not helping, Pitts," he warns, "and you're seriously risking your best friend status."
"Oh what, like you're gonna give it to someone else?" Gerard asks. "Who, Charlie ? Obi-Wan, I'm your only hope."
Stephen rolls his eyes and says, "Now I know you're doing it on purpose. You've seen that movie as many times as I have, don't pretend you don't know the line."
"What's the problem, princess?" Gerard asks, wisely deciding to refocus the conversation. "How can the Jedi master be of service?"
It takes a lot of restraint but Stephen lets it slide. "I think I want to get together with Charlie," he says, in a much less enthusiastic tone than the statement warrants.
"Yay!" Gerard brings the enthusiasm, but Stephen shuts him down immediately.
"No," he says sternly, "not yay. Read me the list."
"Are you kiddi—?"
"The list, Pittsie."
Through the phone Stephen hears the familiar sound of Gerard sighing and unfolding a piece of paper. As he starts to read, Stephen mouths along.
"'Dear Stephen, this is Stephen from the past via your best and brightest friend Gerard.' Aw, thanks. 'This is a list of reasons why you should not get back together with Charlie, no matter how much you think it's a good idea.' For the record, you aren't the only one."
"Keep reading."
"Alright, alright. 'Reason one: Charlie broke your heart. Seriously. Don't put us through that again. Reason two: Charlie couldn't be serious about your relationship and you deserve that. Reason three—' Meeks, please don't make me read this."
Stephen shakes his head. "The whole list," he reminds Gerard.
"Oh god," Gerard says. "Okay. You are so lucky you're my best friend. 'Reason three: the sex wasn't that great. The best you've ever had, maybe, but not worth it.'"
"And I really do appreciate it," Stephen says, but the list hasn't helped. Also, the last reason was a blatant lie, and he can't help but doubt the validity of the others as well.
"Anyway," Gerard continues, "'Stephen Meeks, don't you dare do this. Do not make out with Charlie just because you miss them or whatever sappy stuff you've come up with to justify this. Do not ruin this for us. Love, Stephen from the past.' There, are you happy?"
Stephen doesn't respond, instead pushing up his glasses to rest on top of his head so he can rub the bridge of his nose. Stephen from the past has (had?) some really good points, but Stephen from the present does too, and Gerard, and Knox , as much as it pains Stephen to admit it. It can't be that bad, right?
"I really love them," Stephen says eventually. Gerard hums on the other end but makes no effort to interrupt. "I mean, I really love them. And there's no reason for us not to be together again, right? But I don't wanna have to go through all of this again..."
"Look," Gerard finally interrupts, "you don't have to know anything one hundred percent right now. Just talk to Charlie, yeah?"
"Yeah..." Stephen trails off, already thinking about all the possible endings to this story. Its scarily easy to imagine Charlie's voice and wording for every conversation they could have next, just as scary as it is to imagine all the ways they'll no doubt surprise him. "Alright, we'll talk."
"Yay!" Gerard says again, and before Stephen can hang up he continues, "And hey, by the way, Stephen from the past doesn't know shit. This is the same guy who thought it was a good idea to replace the missing blender lid with plastic wrap. Stephen from the present knows better now."
Stephen thanks Gerard in a half whisper and ends the call wondering when all his friends got so philosophical. The concrete stairs welcome him in a long monotony as he makes his way down to the waiting cracked door of Gerard's apartment. He stands outside for a moment, listening to the short clatter of pans and occasional whispered swear as Charlie looks around the kitchen for the elusive missing chips. There's the sound of something being dragged across the floor before Charlie starts whistling the theme to some long cancelled cartoon and Stephen opens the door the rest of the way
"Hey," Stephen says when he gets to the kitchen. Charlie is standing on a chair and has their head in the top of the cabinet over the sink.
"Knox said there were more chips down here somewhere, but I can't find them." Charlie's head emerges and looks down at Stephen.
"I know." Stephen leans against the counter and shoves his hands in his pockets. "He sent me down here to help you."
"I'm sure that's what he meant," Charlie says sarcastically as they hop off the chair and start to look through the lower cabinets. Stephen shrugs and goes to join them, but Charlie swings shut the last door and stands before he can.
"Let me guess," Stephen says, "there never were any chips?"
"Of course not." With one final cursory look across the counter, Charlie sighs and shakes their head. "I don't know what I expected."
"To be fair, they were actually out of chips upstairs. I called Pitts on my way down here and he was out buying more."
"Yeah?" Charlie asks. "Why'd you call him?"
It takes Stephen just a couple of seconds too long to come up with an answer and Charlie's miniscule suspicion has grown exponentially by the time he says, "Uh, you know, wondering why he wasn't there. Plus the whole chips thing sounded kind of shady when Knox proposed it."
Stephen looks down at the ground for a while, fighting the urge to take his hands out of his pockets and nervously tap them against the cabinet behind him. When Charlie is still staring at him as he looks up a few moments later, brow furrowed, he says, "I guess we should get back upstairs then."
"Stephen." Charlie reaches out and their arm blocks Stephen's exit he was trying to make without noticing. They had both inched closer to the door with every exchange but where Stephen had been doing it subconsciously, Charlie was obviously aware and following him.
"You know, we should really get upstairs, tell them there's nothing down here, I mean—"
"I'm sorry."
It's the first time Charlie's actually said the words and Stephen's brain can't process it immediately. It's not that he didn't already know—the sentiment was certainly there every time they'd talked since, an unspoken truth evident in every one of Charlie's actions post-breakup—but Charlie hadn't said the actual words before.
"What?"
As he asks it, Stephen realizes he had never really given them the chance. Every time the conversation got to the point where they would inevitably have to address what happened between them, Stephen shut it down. He thinks maybe Charlie wasn't ready to say it either, but that was a different thought for another time when his ex-boyfriend/love of his life wasn't standing in front of him apologizing.
"I'm sorry," Charlie says again.
"You—"
"I didn't want to screw this up!"
While Stephen was thinking, Charlie had lowered their arm, but there was no way Stephen could live with himself if he left now.
"I thought," Charlie continues quickly, "that if we stayed together too long it would get to the point where I fuck it up out of some subconscious desire to sabotage and ruin everything for myself and then we couldn't even be friends anymore because I love you so much that if I had to destroy this it would be with no way of coming back."
The words stumble out of their mouth like rapids, a dam with so much built up behind it that even the slightest crack was enough to bring the whole thing down.
"But I'm super impulsive and don't always think things through and it was like instant regret as soon as I did it. And we were still living together and it was super awkward but mostly it just hurt that everything was the same and exactly like before but infinitely worse because I was missing you while you were right there. It was basically the day after that I realized I fucked it up by trying to not fuck it up, but I couldn't take it back, and I didn't want to because you don't deserve that, but I just—I really missed you. In every part of my life. And I want us to be able to go back to what we had before I fucked it up."
It's as though Charlie used up all the words in the room and there were none left to use. Charlie seemed to have said all they need to and Stephen didn't know what to say.
"I really am sorry," Charlie repeats after a while. They seem cowed by Stephen's lack of response, a little awkward after pouring their heart out into silence. Apologetic is not a look normally seen on their face and it is what finally gives Stephen something to say.
"I don't know if I've ever heard you say that before. Y'know, that you're sorry."
"There's a first time for everything." Charlie's shrug is accompanied by a sardonic smile that quickly melts into a optimistic one as the atmosphere changes. They are still in the middle of the kitchen, still standing slightly at odds, but Charlie takes half a step forward and there's no resistance from either of them.
"And you're still an asshole," Stephen says matter-of-factly. He has to get it out before they start kissing and probably never stop.
Charlie nods. "I know," they say, "date me?"
Stephen can't help how infectious Charlie's barely concealed hope is and he starts nodding too. They grin at each other dumbly, their heads bobbing in unison, and Stephen says, "Yeah, I guess."
Apparently that was all they needed to hear, because before he even finishes his last word, Stephen finds himself with an armful of ex-ex-boyfriend and uncoordinated kisses being pressed all over his face.
"I missed you so damn much, Meeks," Charlie says, each word punctuated by another kiss to wherever they could reach. They deftly dodge Stephen's half-hearted attempts to bat them away, instead kissing his nose, cheeks, forehead, and cheeks again before leaning their foreheads together.
The brief reprieve in the onslaught gives Stephen, who hadn't noticed how hard he'd been laughing, a chance to catch his breath. When he opens his eyes again, it's to find Charlie already looking at him. They have an intent look on their face that Stephen hadn't realized he missed, but still knew signalled some oncoming sincerity that had been so rare before.
"So damn much, Meeks," Charlie repeats.
Stephen smiles.