Chapter Text
Alan turned to Charlie. “Charlie, if you’re going to be in a mood like this all day, you’re welcome not to join us.”
“I’m just saying, I’d really like it if you asked in future before inviting fifty people to the house, my house, for a party –”
“Fine, in the future I will ask. Now go and smarten up, because it’s lovely weather and people will start turning up soon, and I expect you to be a gracious host.”
“It’s not my party!” Alan waved the comment away and Charlie sighed. “We’re in California,” Charlie mumbled, going upstairs. “Lovely weather isn’t a proper reason to have a party. And you only got back yesterday, how long have you been planning a party in my house?”
Charlie sat on his bed and turned an envelope over in his hands. It had arrived this morning, and looked official, and he thought he knew what was in it.
He knew, in recent months, he’d lost more weight than was healthy, and he hadn’t been sleeping or eating enough. Now even the little things were getting to him – Jamie’s laugh, his in-jokes. The mid-terms, the work he had to do, the students not turning up, the lecture itself, Larry for leaving, Megan for taking him away, his dad for ignoring him, this party, Don for joking about him, and everyone for not noticing he was about to fall apart. He quickly read the divorce papers and threw them back on the bed, then changed, because it was expected and he didn’t want to cause any more trouble.
Walking into the garden, he smiled slightly at Alan’s friends, and nodded to the neighbors. Everyone local that Don and Alan liked seemed to be here, and even some people he didn’t know, but he shrugged it off. Must be with Robin.
He checked his watch and decided that after ten minutes he’d escape to the garage. He’d made an appearance and that was all that was needed. None of these people really cared, anyway.
“Heya, Chuck!”
Charlie swore under his breath, forced a smile and turned to Jamie. “Hey.”
“It’s funny, spending so much time here. Must be because you have a great house. Evening beers one day, brunch the next, party today. It’s nice.”
“Yeah, it’s great.”
Colby stepped around, leaning heavily on his crutch, and nodded at Charlie. “Hey, Charlie.”
“Hey.” He hoped Colby would save him.
Colby turned to Jamie. “Don’s over there,” Colby pointed. “I think he said he wanted to talk to you.”
“Oh, cool. See ya, Chuck.”
Charlie was endlessly thankful to Colby and hoped it showed on his face. They chatted until Don and Robin stood together by the front door. Charlie zoned out a little as Robin thanked everyone for coming on such short notice and she hoped they were enjoying themselves, then Don took over.
“So, uh, we found out some news. And dad decided everyone had to know.” Alan shook his head, grinning, and Don continued. “Dad suggested that Robin and I took this opportunity to let everyone know that we’re expecting a baby, and we found out this morning. And once dad found out, there was no stopping the rest of you,” Don laughed.
Charlie’s stomach twisted. Don and Robin were pulled into group hugs and walked away, mingling again. Charlie made an excuse to Colby and Nikki when she appeared beside him and escaped to the garage, closing the door behind him.
He couldn’t decide if he was angry or sad. He didn’t know who to get angry at, or if there was anything or anyone to blame at all, and that left him confused. He didn’t know how to get over it, and didn’t know what to do with himself.
Dropping onto the couch, he remembered his divorce papers, and supposed he should be grateful that it was an amicable breakup. His emotions were still all over the place, but he didn’t know how to explain without coming across as attention-seeking and needy, especially now it was Don’s time to celebrate.
He didn’t realize he was crying until he heard someone come into the garage, and knew he couldn’t hide how red and wet his face was, or even stop in time. He wrapped his arms around his head and doubled over, hoping that whoever it was would leave him alone.
“Charlie?”
He couldn’t speak to Colby, not now. His breath caught in his throat and led to more sobs. Then there was a hand on his shoulder and Colby was beside him, and Charlie leaned closer, crying.
Colby let him. He wasn’t sure how long he spent rubbing Charlie’s shoulder and waiting for the sobs to let up, for Charlie to pull away when he was done, and look embarrassed.
“I’m sorry, you didn’t need to see that.”
“Hey, when you gotta cry, you gotta cry.”
Charlie shook his head and wiped his eyes and his nose, avoiding Colby’s gaze. “I didn’t want –”
“To be seen, I know. You’ve been avoiding everyone since you got back.” He said it as a statement, but to Charlie it felt like an accusation. Colby must have noticed his face because he carefully rested his hand on Charlie’s shoulder again. “That’s okay, you know? If you don’t want to talk, you don’t have to. I sure as hell won’t if you just want me to sit here. Or leave. Nothing worse than people thinking they know how you feel.”
Charlie swallowed, and wondered how Colby knew everything.
“They tried to talk to me. Dad and Don. When I came back, and they gave me advice and tried to make me feel better.”
“But they didn’t know what was wrong.”
Charlie nodded, and closed his eyes, so Colby continued.
“When I came back from Afghanistan, all I wanted to do was to shout and to break things and punch people and cry and get a hug at the end, and have someone tell me it was okay to be confused, because I wasn’t sure. And I wanted them to care because they wanted me to feel better, and come and talk to me first, and stick it out when I tried to shove them away.”
“Not because you were ‘doing an Ethan’.”
Colby raised his eyebrows. “You heard that?”
Charlie nodded. “I was listening to music and it was the dip between songs.”
Colby sighed. “Jamie’s an asshole, just ignore him.”
“Not easy.”
“I know. And for what it’s worth, I think I have an idea how you feel. The little things all build up and they seem bigger, and even when they’re not that big it doesn’t matter, because just one can bring you down for a really long time.”
Charlie rubbed his eyes. He wasn’t sure how Colby could keep voicing how Charlie felt so easily. “What made you feel like that?”
Colby pursed his lips. “PTSD after Afghanistan. I was diagnosed with depression and put on pills for a while, and I had to go to therapy.”
“I’m sorry.”
Colby shrugged. “I wasn’t the only one. At first I didn’t want to go because it seemed pathetic to just talk about how you felt, but it really helped me. And I talked to people who went through the same kinda thing. Even if we couldn’t say how we felt, if we couldn’t put it into words, someone else did. That helped.”
Charlie took a while to work out what he wanted to say.
“Amita and I got a divorce. The papers came today. The breakup was…friendly. Or, about as friendly drifting apart can be. Amita had a miscarriage. I got lost in my own head afterwards, and I regret not being there for her, and for starting P vs. NP again because that was stupid.” He took a breath. “We didn’t tell anyone about the baby. We wanted Don and dad to know at the same time, and on the same day as Amita’s parents. Timings were difficult, and we didn’t want to talk about it after...” he cleared his throat. “I’m sure Amita told her parents, but I couldn’t say it, not before now. I’ve not been thinking clearly. That, uh, that was six months ago, and I don’t really want to talk about it that much. I just want some time to get over my marriage and my baby without a house full of people expecting me to be happy.”
Colby gave Charlie a squeeze. “I’m sorry. Must have been hard for you today.”
“Yeah. Uh, you won’t tell anyone, will you?”
“No, I won’t. And, y’know. The same for me.”
“Of course.” Charlie sighed. “I have to go out there again, don’t I?”
“We can leave it a while, give you a little down time. Do you want me to stay?”
“Please.”