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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Whilst Liam didn't have to wait long from the universe's perspective, down on Earth the interlude became tedious. Having long lost his patience, he'd surrendered his anxiety for calm frustration instead. And perhaps making peace with his parents' judgement of him was partly to thank, because his pacing had stopped, and sleep started arriving to him easier at night. Everything felt more under his control.
ㅤRunning his fingers down the bumpy ripples of paint, he was visiting his old pieces, pricked with guilt for neglecting them all. Dust murkied the images like the fog of memory, and he swiped a cloth over the sepia dust to see their bright colours once again.
ㅤExcept for Charlie's painting—that was far too embarrassing to look at, and he would've thrown it away if he wasn't saving himself from the mortification of the sight of it.
ㅤIt was just a lovers' spat, was what he assured himself.
ㅤIt was late at night when his phone buzzed, tolling like death's bell. Charlie's name glared venomously, stinging his retina. He held his breath to read his verdict.
ㅤredy now met me at the old fo
ㅤfox*
ㅤDrunk, then.
ㅤEven when they'd been on speaking terms, Liam was careful when navigating Charlie's drinking, holding his tongue. Charlie was his own person, and Liam wasn't his mother, so he hadn't wanted to compromise the peace of their relationship by overstepping. But he really hated it.
ㅤIf they were going to end after all, maybe he should've.
ㅤIt was past midnight by the time he got there, exhaustion dragging him under the loud, golden bustle of the pub. People huddled outside in the freezing air, cigarettes glowing and dripping, and they hadn't seemed to notice their faces were stained red from the cold wind.
ㅤHe swallowed the heavy lump in his throat, and scrambled for his phone with stiff fingers.
ㅤWhere?
ㅤat back, Charlie replied.
ㅤLiam weaved through drunken crowds, women stumbling over their two left heels as he passed. Rounding the corner and reaching some quieter benches in the back garden, he spotted Charlie sitting on his own.
ㅤHis jaw clenched as he stared, his pulse jumping nervously.
ㅤCharlie was staring downwards intently, as though reading something etched into the grain of the table, brows furrowed in thought. His face was flushed the same endearing pink which sometimes warmed when Liam flustered him, and his body wobbled slightly with the wind.
ㅤHe looked cold.
ㅤLiam didn't give himself a chance to stall. He marched towards him, and sat down opposite like he belonged there. He crossed his arms and waited, riddled with nerves under his stern expression. After their last 'conversation', and the bite of Charlie's anger, he found it hard to well with hope. On this table tonight, regardless of what happened, they were going to come to a decision.
