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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Charlie hesitated at Liam's door. It wasn't flimsy plywood like his own, but a thick, heavy oak bodying the step to guard him. His legs felt like running, heart racing, but he remained regardless.
ㅤTransparency and trust were the two most vital building blocks for any relationship, and even though he'd never felt ready before, Charlie was determined to make this one work.
ㅤHardening his resolve, he jabbed the doorbell, ready for this fight.
ㅤLiam opened the door within seconds, grinning like a fool. "Hey."
ㅤHis hair was a mess, dripping and stringy, falling everywhere over his forehead like a boy's. Warm, he looked. Skin flushed from the shower and steaming from him in the cold—domestic—like a package deal with the gold-lit home behind him. He would've thawed Charlie's cold hands if he reached out.
ㅤ"You look happy."
ㅤ"I am," Liam pleasantly confirmed, stepping to the side to let Charlie in. The wall of heat and the flavour of homemade supper cottoned him like a hug. "I had a good day."
ㅤAlthough it took a moment to acclimatise to the sudden... comfort, he couldn't control the smile gracing his lips, his tension melting into something else that welled in his chest. He fixed Liam's strewn shoes when he neatly lined up his own. They were nice and shiny.
ㅤ"I'm glad." He was. "What did you get up to?"
ㅤLiam's pearly grin closed in something sheepish, and he speared his fingers into his sopping hair. "Well... This and that. Did some tidying, shockingly, and also just a bit of painting."
ㅤ"Oh, yea?" Charlie's head cocked. "I remember seeing canvases in your room." He also remembered the crime scene that demanded forensics to successfully tidy—it was certainly beyond Liam's ability.
ㅤLiam nodded, wandering off to the kitchen, but not before Charlie caught sight of his pinkened cheeks.
ㅤ"Have you eaten?" he asked, crouching to look in the oven. Steam cauliflowered out in a puff, garlic watering on his tongue.
ㅤ"No, not yet."
ㅤSmiling, Liam opened some cupboards. "Brilliant. I'll make us both something. See what I can throw together."
ㅤIt was so silly. The beef casserole must've been cooking for at least an hour to smell this strong. Throw something together, who did Liam think he was tricking?
ㅤ"Want help?"
ㅤ"Nope!" Liam pointed at a stool under the kitchen island. "Just sit there and look pretty for me."
ㅤObliging, Charlie propped his chin on his hand, watching Liam's tall, lean frame manoeuvre around the kitchen, muscles pulling under his forearms as he peeled and cut potatoes. Water bubbled softly as Liam's lips lifted ready to smile—and they did. Easily. Every time their eyes met, he was smiling.
