39. Chapter 39
Chapter thirty-nine
Chuck
He hemmed and hawed for about half an hour, but Chuck eventually decided it was worth it. He still had Robinson’s room number, so he strolled over and knocked. It was a quarter to eight, so it wasn’t early, but also not unconscionably late.
The door opened and Robinson answered in a tank top and those some basketball shorts from the night they hooked up. His eyes widened for a moment, then he crossed his arms over his chest. “Hi. Everything okay?”
“Sort of?” Chuck looked up at the door jamb to try and collect himself before looking back at Robinson. “Listen, would it be okay if I came in so we could talk?”
Robinson seemed to get smaller, but he did eventually nod and step back. “Must be bad news for me.”
The door closed and Chuck gathered his thoughts. He knew this was well beyond the bounds of what they’d agreed to, but the idea and Robinson’s words scraped at the back of his mind and wouldn’t leave him alone. He had to do this. He needed it and he needed Robinson to hear him out on this topic. “Thanks for your help with Ryan.”
“How is he?” Robinson sat cross-legged in the office chair, a maneuver that cracked Chuck’s back just to look at.
“He’s going to sleep on the couch in my room tonight. I think that’s just best. He doesn’t seem too drunk, but I got a couple glasses of water and some pain pills into him and he passed out.” Chuck sat down gingerly on the arm chair in the corner. “But I wanted to tell you, this had nothing to do with you.”
Robinson snorted. “Right.”
“Ryan’s apparently been sneaking drinks ever since Andrew died. This is just the first time he got caught. Which speaks wonders to my parenting prowess.” He leaned forward, not letting himself fall into that particular spiral right now. “I know that you, like, refuse to give yourself a break about anything, but I just really wanted you to hear that. And hear a thank you.”
“Great. I appreciate it. Glad Ryan’s okay.” Robinson spun slowly in his chair until he was facing the mirror above the desk, keeping eye contact with Chuck in the reflection. “How much was he drinking before me versus after me?”
“Robinson, stop.” Chuck got up, spun Robinson around, and squatted so he could look Robinson directly in the eye. “Apparently someone needs to tell you that you’re not God, which is shocking. Usually megalomaniacs are much harder to be around.”
“Excuse me?”
“Well, what other explanation can I draw? You think that you and you alone are able to bestow substance abuse issues on people by proximity alone. You must think you’re at least a superhuman.”
“If I mentioned something—”
“Come on, Robinson. You had to have done some introspection between getting over an addiction and spending time in jail. You have to know that blaming yourself for something that’s clearly not your fault is unhealthy. Especially when there’s blame to go around that makes much more sense.” Chuck stood, and he knew he should probably stop, but there was such a velocity to the words he couldn’t hope to hold them back. Not this time. Not after biting his tongue so many times before. “You need to forgive yourself or stop blaming yourself or adjust the way you see yourself. I don’t know the solution. I’m a glorified data entry worker who didn’t realize his son has been secretly getting drunk for the last year. But you’re not, like, unworthy or whatever narrative is in your head. You’re not just a meth addict who spent time behind bars.”
“I know that.” Robinson shot to his feet, forcing Chuck to stumble backwards. His face was red and his jaw set hard. “And I don’t need to be lectured about moving on from a guy who can’t even cum without crying about his dead husband.”
The words should have stung, but Chuck had numbed himself to that. He’d kicked himself over and over for fucking up like that, and he’d largely come to the same conclusion. “I know. I haven’t moved on.” Chuck sat back down in the armchair and looked up at Robinson. “It’s a hell of a lot easier to tell someone about how to do better than to do better yourself. Even more reason to think that I’m right.”
Robinson’s neck muscles tensed against his skin. “Fine.” He sat back down as well, feet on the floor this time instead of crossed beneath him. “I can accept that I didn’t turn your kid into an alcoholic by breathing on him.”
“And I can accept that I shouldn’t have tried to get into anything with you when I clearly wasn’t done processing Andrew’s death.” He sighed. “I really thought I was okay, if that matters at all. I wouldn’t have stepped into anything with you if I thought there was any chance that I’d hurt you like that.”
Robinson’s body relaxed a little bit, shoulders slumping forward. “I know. And it’s not like you can take the full blame. We were supposed to be having a little fun and nothing more. I’m the one who got way too into you and couldn’t keep his emotions in check. Got attached, fed the crush until it got too strong.” He offered a tight smile. “See? I can be a little introspective.”
Chuck snorted a little, but most of his mind was elsewhere. That was an admission he hadn’t expected. Chuck thought he was the one who’d gotten too deep into this. Had he really misread it so badly? I didn’t know Ryan was drinking behind my back. Seems like that fits nicely.
Still, he had to approach this carefully. Gently. Just in case he was wrong and he overstepped. “You weren’t alone. If we were just having a casual fling, I don’t think I’d have turned into a sobbing mess.” He looked for any sign from Robinson that he should stop this line of discussion, but none made itself obvious, so he continued. “It didn’t feel so wrong because I had sex with you, I don’t think. That was great. It felt wrong because I wanted to keep being around you after the sex. It was like everything before could have been explained away as trying to get my dick wet.”
Robinson laughed, and it was a bit more natural. “That’s definitely how I like to be talked about.”
“You know what I mean.” Chuck shook his head. “When I still felt connected to you after that, I couldn’t ignore it anymore. I caught feelings, and they weren’t fading.” He locked his gaze on Robinson, giving every iota of his attention. “They still haven’t faded.”
The air seemed to grow thick with ice. Chuck had an inkling of desire to run, but he suppressed it. Robinson was right about one thing: he couldn’t just let himself stagnate because he missed Andrew. He was always going to miss Andrew. He wasn’t going to let some vague sense of guilt prevent him from ever seeking out another guy. Especially not when the universe was going to drop a good, sweet guy in his lap. The kind of guy who would not only protect his kids, but who his kids felt comfortable around. Ryan hadn’t run or tried to lie about getting drunk. He seemed good with Robinson, and Robinson was good with him as well.
“I can’t open up and get hurt again.”
Robinson’s words cracked through the ice and pierced straight through. A line of pure steel cable connecting the two of them. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“I know.” Robinson shook his head. “But not wanting it and keeping it from happening are two different things.”
Chuck could feel this all slipping out of his grip again, and that burned hotter than any guilt or shame. So he snagged onto that cable and yanked, barely even thinking about what he was saying, just trying to get closer to Robinson again. “I’m doing the party after this is all done. You were right. I needed something. Called some friends. They’re going to handle a lot of it, I’m going to host. And you should be there.”