<<eleven>>

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E for epilogue
E for end :(

Third person's pov:

"What's the thing you love most about me, Charlie?"

"Nothing," is Charlie's robotic retort; it's the one he's learned to subconsciously reply to all of Leo's never ending questions with. He takes in the usual offended gasp, Leo's responsive whine and the press of a thin hand poking at his side. "What's got you curious?"

"There must be something you love a lot. Tell me."

It's the winter, it's chilly outside, warm inside. Charlie's trying haphazardly to study for an upcoming exam,especially since he didn't do well for the last; stiff fingers curled around one edge of his textbook, and Leo splayed himself lazily over the mass majority of Charlie's bed, entertaining himself by fiddling with Charlie's free hand, toying with his fingers.

Charlie turns his gaze, sees Leo's dyed hair, the pale hue of his skin, his eyes, far too brown for anyone's good. Just like nutella. Leo matches his stare, then, and Charlie looks back down to his book with a careful facade of disinterest. "There's nothing to tell."

Leo whines like an absolute child; there's times when he's eighteen, and others, he's eight. He tugs on one of Charlie's fingers hard, pushes out a nasally, "Char, you don't have to be so cold while we're by ourselves. Just tell me what you love most and I'll leave you alone."

Charlie has always been the colder one; he rarely expresses his emotions while Leo has always been the more, insecure one.

Insecure,
Hell, Charlie has always been insecure whenever he's with Leo but he doesn't show it. His vulnerability. What if he lost Leo all over again? He couldn't take the pain. He knew that one day Leo would realise how much he lacks and how much he's flawed and eventually leave him.

Leave him alone?
It's a lie, and they both know it. Charlie glances over so he can stare at Leo until that fib breaks.

"Alright, so I won't leave you alone, but I won't bug you as much."

"How good you are at giving head," comes Charlie's bored answer. He turns a few pages in his textbook, nonchalant. "Happy?"

"You're lying."

"Is that so?"

"Of course. I'm not good at giving head-I'm phenomenal," Leo returns; Charlie groans so hard his shoulders deflate and it only makes Leo smile. "So tell me the real truth. You and I both know that there's something you favourite."

"Tell me what your favourite is, first," Charlie compromises, tone strained and vaguely annoyed. He doesn't care too much, he's never needed the validation that Leo downright craves (you're such a liar,Charlie) ; that doesn't mean he can't prolong Leo getting his way. "And then I'll think about telling you mine."

Leo narrows his eyes-Charlie presumes he's searching for a hint of dishonesty. The irritating weight on his shoulder grows a little heavier, then, and he feels Leo's smile against the curve of his jaw. "Your dimples."

He's definitely not intrigued. Not one bit. "Why's that?"

"It's nice," Leo says. He sounds thoughtful, like he's trying to compose his thoughts into something articulate, legible. The fact that he's struggling with that in the first place-

Well, it makes Charlie's chest swell.

"I mean, when you smile a real smile,it appears and it's just so intriguing and ...it shows that you're really happy with me"

Charlie was speechless,

Leo giggles. It's sweet and fluffy, just like the rest of him, and he slings an arm over Charlie's chest, lays a series of kisses over the column of his throat. "And your voice too, I really do love it. when we're alone like this, you speak soft. Peacefully. You spoke to me throughout my first nervous breakdown in our first concert. It's a lot more soothing than silence."

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