Hollow Grace

ᴛʜɪʀᴛʏ ᴛᴡᴏ - sᴇᴠᴇɴᴛᴇᴇɴ

December 8th

The space in the bed beside him was empty. Yawning and stretching, Charlie laid his arm across the cool sheet and, feeling the mattress, groggily opened his eyes. Evan was no longer next to him. The clock read eight a.m., meaning he had retreated to his own room, electing not to rouse Wright. Charlie disliked waking up alone, even though since the move to Portland, he and Evan were nearly inseparable. Once Sylvia and Casey had drifted off, the guys would sneak into each other's rooms in turn and stay until morning, before quietly slipping back to their own beds before the alarm clock chimed.

They had a convenient excuse prepared in case of exposure — the pretext of panic attacks, a truth Evan in particular didn't need to feign. Charlie wasn't yet ready to disclose the real reason behind these nocturnal excursions. Sylvia was, admittedly, a remarkable woman, but Charlie, who was accustomed to finding a catch in everything, couldn't quite bring himself to be forthcoming. Evan maintained a patient silence, though he clearly longed to remain in Charlie's bed even after the alarm went off.

Maybe today is the opportune time to finally come clean to Sylvia?

Charlie stretched languidly one last time and sat up on the bed. Yesterday's group therapy had been surprisingly productive. Other people's incessant whining no longer irked him so much, and he had mustered the courage to recount a rather difficult life episode to the group. In response, he seemed to have garnered genuinely sincere empathy. One girl even imparted advice on how to stop being afraid of her tyrannical father. She truly had cause for fear, judging by her narrative. He thought... her name was Sheila.

As Charlie was unhurriedly dressing, anticipating the lengthy proceedings, Evan's shaggy head peered into the bedroom. Seeing Charlie already on his feet, he squeezed his whole body through with a grin.

"You're finally up, sleepyhead."

"Yeah, I'm up... Why's it so quiet?"

"I was planning to bring you breakfast in bed and all that jazz," Evan approached Charlie and, hugging his torso, affectionately rubbed his cheek against Charlie's neck.

"Ooh, that's exactly what I'm craving," Charlie purred contentedly. "I'll have eight shots of espresso and... this dish right here," he poked Evan's chest.

"This dish has to marinate until evening. But I promise, breakfast is gonna be absolutely delicious. I made it myself."

"I'm chomping at the bit to try it..."

Evan, with a sly smirk, swept Charlie up in his arms. During rehab and his diet, Wright had shed a considerable amount of weight, and Evan lifted him effortlessly. Charlie gasped in surprise, looping his arms around Evan's neck.

"I could've walked myself... oh..."

"Today you've got dibs on the VIP treatment!" Evan responded and carried him out of the bedroom into the communal living room. Hearing his footsteps, Casey bustled loudly in the room.

"Mom, turn it on!"

To the accompaniment of a traditional birthday song, balloons, streamers, and themed décor in soft, pastel hues materialized before Charlie's eyes. Casey and Sylvia stood in the center of the festively decorated living room, holding a small bento cake. Evan started singing along with them, deliberately missing the notes and laughing. Charlie smiled self-consciously and clutched Evan's shoulders tighter, unsure how to react. He had remembered his birthday himself the day before, but he definitely hadn't told his friends...

"We didn't know what time you were born, but we definitely know how old you are!" Casey exclaimed cheerfully. "Morning cake with a candle, sir!"

"Are you gonna smash it in my face?" Charlie scoffed, hiding behind irony. Evan set him down right in front of Casey and gave him an encouraging clap on the shoulders.