36. Chapter 36
Chapter thirty-six
Chuck
Chuck had tried over and over to put himself back into that headspace from the night before, and he never could seem to find it. He remembered most of it, at least in the vaguest sense. The detail hadn’t stuck. Everything else had been too overwhelming and he only really remembered stuff starting when he got out to his car.
But he knew enough to tell that he hadn’t handled it well at all, and judging from the look on Robinson’s face, they agreed with each other on that point…and probably a lot of other points that made Chuck look bad. Not look bad. This is about shit I legitimately fucked up .
Finally, Chuck knew he had to say something more. He was the one who wanted this conversation in the first place. “I screwed all the way up last night, and I don’t want you blaming yourself. You were great. I…wasn’t as ready as I thought I was for something like that. Not that I didn’t have a good time, it’s just…you didn’t deserve that. And I don’t expect things to go back to how they were, but I thought it was important you heard that. You deserve to hear that it wasn’t you, and that it shouldn’t be a reflection on you.” Chuck shivered, like the tension needed some path to exit and that was the only one available. Not that it helped much.
Robinson’s jaw was tight and he shook his head before he said anything. “I shouldn’t be mad at you, but I am. And that makes me mad at myself, and then it feels like you hurt me in a whole different way. Which isn’t fair, but knowing that doesn’t change anything.”
Chuck nodded. He wasn’t about to disagree or try to invalidate what Robinson was expressing. He had every right to those emotions, and Chuck couldn’t even muster a fault in the logic that Robinson hadn’t called out on his own.
Robinson sighed. “I know this is hard for you. And I think…maybe this was just a nice time we had with each other, and now it’s over. We can just try to forget that last bit.” Robinson’s entire body was visibly tense, but he pushed ahead. “I was thinking about it too, and I just think that makes the most sense.” He ground his jaw together, neck muscles straining.
Chuck nodded, trying to avoid the massive drop and hit and shatter that those words brought. It felt like a punch to the jaw, followed by a knee to the gut, and then getting spit on when he hit the ground. His plan had been to apologize and try to be okay with Robinson again. Not this. Even if this made the most sense.
It makes sense on paper. That doesn’t mean it really makes sense.
Chuck shoved all that commentary and all those feelings down into the box where he kept all the other inconvenient things that it was better not to tell people. He nodded and clapped his hands against his thighs. “I can do that.” It was…not a lie, but Chuck knew he couldn’t have said as much if he was under oath or on truth serum or whatever. “Thank you. I really didn’t mean to—”
“We’re pretending the last part didn’t happen, remember? Nothing bad happened, so no need for apologies.” Robinson nodded brusquely, then reached forward.
Then pulled his hand back.
Then reached forward again and patted Chuck on the arm a couple times before he finally turned and walked away. He fiddled with the mic pack on his waist as he did, and didn’t even hint that he might stop or slow or look behind him.
Chuck’s chest tightened and he took a few moments to breathe. He had a good guy, even for a little bit, and he’d screwed it all up. Sure, it was only a week less time than they would have had together, but that number didn’t feel right. He put it together as he saw Robinson walking away.
It wasn’t just lust.
It wasn’t just guilt.
It felt like something real and good slipping out of his fingers, and he needed another minute just to exist with that reality before he could put a good face on and rejoin the others.
God I hope I can .
By the end of the day, the house was feeling decidedly more homey than he would have expected. Yes, they were almost done with the three week, madcap renovation, so it made sense, but once again, he was struck by how suddenly it was all coming together. The new kitchen, completely open now, but not yet fully finished, really helped things. So did the fact that they had furniture in the living room again. Not everything—Andrew’s chair was still a gaping emptiness in the space—but it felt like the sort of place someone actually could live again.
Nick was upstairs reading, but Colby and Ryan were making good use of the new setup. They would have to move the gaming setup back into storage before work started back up the next day, but for the evening, Ryan and Colby were kicking ass back and forth across the virtual soccer pitch, and only cussing a little bit. Mostly Colby, which Chuck had to smile at, in spite of how he was feeling otherwise. He remembered being that age, and he remembered thinking swearing was cool and adult.
Rather he pick up that habit from me rather than getting shitfaced when I was supposed to be studying.
Chuck was almost done on garbage pickup. He was told they could use the kitchen if they absolutely needed to, but it was really better if they avoided it until the next day, at least. So they’d gotten Indian take-out, and the restaurant they liked always packed everything separately. A package for the naan, and a separate package for the roti, and each entree obviously was on its own, and each one came with its own container of rice, and then the little containers of chutney and pickles and raita, and then the order of gulab jamun they always split for dessert—point was, it was a lot of trash and, since there were no dishes to wash, picking up after their meal was as close as he was going to get to cleaning up.
Plus, it gave him a little time away from the boys to just be with his own thoughts. The sting of his conversation with Robinson had faded, but if he thought about it, it flared back up. And like a sore spot, he kept prodding at it over and over, not even meaning to. He couldn’t leave it alone, as if the ache was somehow pleasant.
Maybe it is and I’m really fucked up. Maybe it’s me reminding myself that I’m a married man, even though my husband is dead. Real healthy, Chuck .
He hadn’t even been able to broach the subject of the housewarming thing with Eliza. He was too shaken up and just kind of wanted to disappear, which was thankfully much easier to manage. He holed up in the master suite, only leaving a few times, when the crew needed to do work in there. Most importantly, he kept himself separate from Robinson. That was best for both of them, and they only ran into each other twice beyond the initial talk outside. Once on pure coincidence, and once because Robinson had a final question about something in the kitchen. It didn’t feel awkward at all, but Robinson certainly wasn’t eager to keep the conversation going. In and out, no extraneous information exchanged.
Probably for the best, he figured. Once he got the last of the trash picked up and bagged, he slipped on his shoes and headed outside. The slight chill in the air was more than a little welcome. Some other feeling, something to shock his system a little bit. In the dimness and the cold, the world seemed a little lighter and easier to maneuver through. Just so long as he didn’t think too much.
Because that’s always my God damn problem .