Love Burns (Charlie Weasley X Reader)

Chapter 18: More Than You Can Handle

Chapter 18: More Than You Can Handle

I woke up alone in bed. Charlie, true to his word, had slept on the couch the after our fight the previous night. Really, it wasn't much of a fight. I just talked at him for a few minutes while he listened, looking very similar to a wounded puppy.

I felt a little bad about taking my frustration out on him, but I hoped that it would at least open up the air for a conversation about the job offer from Dmitri. Charlie's opinion about the job meant a lot to me, and I didn't want to do anything without consulting with him first about what taking the job would mean. Of course, if he wasn't on board with me taking the job, that didn't necessarily equate to me turning the job down, but I wanted to make sure that I wasn't going to be making a big decision without at least talking to him.

I cracked the door open and quietly made my way to the bathroom to brush my teeth and situate myself. Then, I went to the living room. Charlie was still asleep, hunched up on the couch in his clothes from the day before.

I shook my head at the sorry sight of him and grabbed a blanket from the bedroom, covering him up. It was a Sunday, so we both had the day off.

I began to brew some tea and fished through the cabinets for something for breakfast, settling on oatmeal with banana, one of Charlie's favorites. Once it was finished, I carried a bowl over to the couch and nudged his foot.

"Hey," he mumbled sleepily as he awoke, his eyelids fluttering to block out the sunshine that streamed through the window.

"I made you breakfast," I said and held the bowl out to him. He blinked up at me. "Oatmeal," I told him.

With a stretch, Charlie sat up and accepted the bowl, looking around tiredly. He had dark bags under his eyes, which were sliding shut slowly as he fought off sleep.

"Didn't sleep well?" I asked, rubbing my upper arms awkwardly.

"No," he responded groggily, jolting at the sound of my voice. "You?"

"No."

"When was the last time we didn't share a bed?" he asked, rubbing his eyes, cradling the bowl of oatmeal in his lap.

"When I was visiting Sirius."

"One night," he said.

"Before that... probably before we shared a cabin," I said, flattening an invisible fold in the rug by the couch with my foot.

"Not a big fan of it," he said and swirled his spoon through the oatmeal, his eyes cast down.

"Me neither. I'm sorry I got mad."

"No, I'm sorry. I interrupt you a lot and I get distracted easily. I've been so inconsiderate lately. It's like Bill used to say; I don't listen sometimes, I just wait until it's my turn to talk," he said and ran a hand through his flaming hair.

"But I've been so nervous that I really haven't been trying all that hard to share the news," I said and shrugged my shoulders. "We've both been a little out of line."

"That doesn't excuse my behavior." He paused. "Is it true? That you don't like my frog shirt?" he asked.

"I think it's tacky," I said. He nodded and looked at the ground.

"Tell me about the job offer," he said suddenly and turned toward me as I sat down beside him on the couch.

"You should eat your oatmeal before it solidifies," I said and gestured to the bowl of oatmeal that was getting cold.

"You've waited long enough to share the news," he said, "and I want to know."

"Alright... Well, Dmitri has been doing work on the side, I guess, and he wants me to be his apprentice or whatever," I said.