Expelled and needing to transfer for his final year, Liam had known immediately where to go. It was the place that'd taken everything from him; that'd ruined him so absolutely it'd twisted his personality beyond recognition.
The place where he'd met...
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"You don't have work tomorrow morning, do you?"
ㅤWith a chin propped up on his elbow, slumping over the granite counter, Charlie sighed. He wasn't even shifting on the hard kitchen stool anymore—not like Liam was.
ㅤ"Not in the morning, no," he replied, curt. "In the afternoon, though, yes."
ㅤThe last thing Liam wanted was to make Charlie's rough financial situation worse; that wasn't the sort of hateful revenge he sought anymore.
ㅤIt was a strange feeling, considering everything they'd been through—wanting to help Charlie of all people. The dragging weights one discerned as an adult never occurred during the half-conscious fog of childhood; and, perhaps, if Liam had only been a little more mature, had noticed more, he could've met a different end with Charlie as Rowan.
ㅤIf only he'd understood back then and treated Charlie gently, like a fragile vase already spilling over that he was—no room left to hold the ever-filling burdens in his small child hands. Of course little Charlie had cracked. What else could the boy have done with all of that?
ㅤPerhaps that was why Liam's hatred of Charlie's living situation was so inordinate when it had hardly anything to do with him anymore.
ㅤHe equally knew, however, from his adulthood clarity, that Charlie wouldn't accept any sum of money ever insulted with the offer. He would recoil, as if having been spat on, horribly offended.
ㅤLiam wasn't anyone important to the other man. So how could he meddle?
ㅤ"That's good. I'm sorry, but it looks like we might be staying for the night."
ㅤAnother sigh. "It's not your fault."
ㅤ"Maybe. But if I hadn't dragged you here in the first place, you wouldn't be having this problem." It'd come out in a mumble, but Charlie suddenly looked at him seriously.
ㅤ"Liam. If I really hadn't wanted to have come tonight, I wouldn't be here right now. Are you trying to make it your fault, or what?"
ㅤLiam's lips flattened. He hadn't even realised he was doing it, taking all the blame himself. His gaze fell to the countertop; a vaguely reflected silhouette stared back.
ㅤIt seemed he was trying to overcompensate for his previous error of pushing all responsibility onto Charlie, by instead blaming himself for every tiny thing.
ㅤThat wasn't healthy.
ㅤHe startled when someone cleared their throat behind them. He didn't need a bigger audience for his internal crisis—much less his sister who would not only notice, but might be tempted to send him back to therapy. God forbid.
ㅤAs if wearing this suit hadn't already been the torture of a lifetime. Tortured Iraqi detainees would've cried for his tremendous suffering—Charlie would've said flatly, had these woes been shared.
