The Charm Offensive

“Oh, hey, okay. You’re serious.”

Dev pushes up imaginary sleeves like he’s getting down to business, ready to follow Charlie’s spiraling thoughts down
whatever paths they need to take.

“You’re so good at seeing other people. I wish you could see yourself.”

He always wants to reach out for Dev, no matter how hard Dev pulls away. He wants to reach and reach and keep reaching.

For someone who claims to love love, you’re really good at pushing it away.

He’s just sad for him, for the little kid who fell in love with love stories where no one looked like him, no one thought like him, no one loved like him.

Charlie was so utterly Charlie. Earnest and vulnerable and sweet.

Dev is usually the one who takes care of people. No one ever takes care of him.

“How can I help when it gets like this?”

Dev folds himself tighter against Charlie, all those lovely sharp points digging in. “You can just stay,” he says, at last. “No one ever stays.”

Charlie thinks about all the times he’s pushed someone away because he didn’t want them to see his anxiety and his obsessiveness, and he thinks about what he really wanted all those times people took him at his word. He climbs back onto the bed and reaches out for Dev. Dev pulls away, fights him off, eventually curls down against his chest, and holds on tight. Dev sinks deep into Charlie, crying into the folds of his oxford shirt.

he grabs onto the back of Dev’s T-shirt
with both hands, presses his forehead into Dev’s throat, telling Dev what he needs in the only way he can communicate right now. He needs to be hugged. Held.