The Worst

Chapter 39

Charlie’s POV

“Yeah?” he murmurs into my lips, never releasing my face from his grasp.

“Yeah,” I smile into his, my small arms wrapping completely around his waist so that I’m able to bring his body closer to mine. “Me like you long time.” He chuckles and shakes his head, pulling me into him and resting his chin on the top of my messy bun.

“Glad to hear it. Didn’t want to sound like an idiot.” His accent comes out incredibly strong, the sound from his throat vibrating against me. I didn’t even know that this was what I wanted until now; how much different I feel-in a good way, that is. And it’s kind of scary. I know we’re not together yet or anything and I don’t want to rush it considering how long it took us both to admit our feelings for one another. But I’m over the moon and beaming with a joy that you wouldn’t believe. It just kind of makes me wonder what the hell I’ve been doing for the last couple of months.

We’re sat in the middle of his tipi, just holding each other for I don’t know how long, listening to the rain that lightly pitter patters against the tough fabric covering. Neither one of us has moved; I personally know I don’t want to-I’d hate to ruin the moment. “I like your beanie.”

“I like your bra. It’s got frilly shit on it.”

“Pervert.”

“Not really; your bra’s the equivalent, considering you’re not wearing a hat or anything, or a shirt, for that matter.”

“But you could say you like my socks?”

“Can’t see them. What if they’ve got holes in them? Or they don’t match?” I can hear the smile lacing his voice, making it hard to even argue with him at all. And yeah, he may have a teeny tiny point.

He pulls apart, standing up and offering me a hand. “Should probably get back.” And me being me, I want to ask him what just happened and where we go from here-I always did like clarity. But I don’t want to mess it up.

It.

But I feel a little better when he grabs a hold of my hand, lacing his fingers together with mine, pulling us both towards the front of the tipi. “Can’t believe it’s nearly three in the morning…who would’ve thought Captain America would take so long?” He notes, glancing at his phone. “But I guess when you’re dealing with an amateur...”

“Shut up. You were the one who said I hardly need any direction.”

“That was before you painted him with cat ears.”

*

Hand in hand, we make our way back into the house. I seem to be more concerned with keeping the noise down considering the time, but Zayn on the other hand could care less as he slams the door shut. He obviously hasn’t completely calmed down from earlier, especially when I notice the grip on my hand get noticeably tighter. But I run my thumb in soothing circles over the back of his hand, letting him know it’s all right. And it seems to work a little (he releases a breath and his shoulders relax), as he returns the gesture before we march into the living room.

Marley’s asleep against Tricia’s chest in one of the chairs. There isn’t any verbal exchange; he just lifts Marley from her chest, and gives him a kiss on the forehead before resting him against his own chest.

With Zayn still pulling me along, I glance back at Tricia and give her a small smile. She shockingly returns a half one (one I’ve seen on Zayn so many times before), while bringing a full glass of wine to her lips. I can’t hold anything against her-it’s really not my place at all, and I can’t even begin to imagine the effect this has on the both of them. But I do know (and hope) that whether she admits it or not, her lack of relationship with her son eats her up. And I can only hope that they get to a point where they can resolve their issues, not that I’m one to talk because we know the kind of relationship I have with my own mother.