Work Text:
Charlie was barely awake when he arrived in the office; his eyelids were still sticking together when he blinked, a palm desperately trying to scrub the sleep from them in an effort to drive in a straight line. He managed to not park his car at an angle, clambered out of it, and lumbered into the office after missing the keyhole to the employee entrance’s door a couple times.
Sluggish, half-conscious, and blurry-eyed — it was the perfect combination for Pim to absolutely scare the hell out of him when he opened the door to the break room.
He wasn’t even sure where the other critter had come from, but as soon as the stale lighting hit Charlie’s eyes, so did Pim’s shouting and jumping right into his bubble.
“Charlie! Charlie! Charlie, oh, you won’t believe it!”
Charlie startled at his presence, senses overwhelmed in an instant, a grimace covering his face as he squeezed his eyes shut and waved a hand dismissively in Pim’s general vicinity. “Ugh, dude— calm down, it is way too early for this.”
Pim huffed impatiently but backed away, giving Charlie his due space. Charlie couldn’t help but rub his eyes again, desperate to get the lingering sleep out of them. By the time he fully opened them again, a layer of fuzz crowded the corners of his vision and the bright white lighting struck his corneas. Pim’s small figure slowly re-entered his line of sight, his expression seeming as though he were about to explode.
“What is it?” Charlie grumbled, a vague inclination of the fact that Pim had something to tell him returning to the forefront of his mind.
“My sister is getting MARRIED!” Pim shouted, crowding Charlie again and haphazardly waving around what must have been the invitation in his hand — right in Charlie’s face.
Charlie flinched at Pim’s instant return back to a hundred-and-ten percent. He withheld another complaint, however, and eyeballed the invitation in Pim’s hand. Sure enough, it had a picture of Amy with that same wide-shouldered guy she had been with at the Pimling family dinner a year ago. He was surprised to see they were even still together, let alone getting married.
“Huh,” Charlie said, “that’s surprising.”
“Oh, isn’t it wonderful?” Pim continued, following Charlie as he began to shuffle across the break room to dig through the fridge for a Red Bull he was certain he had put in there a few days ago. “They’re in love and they’re getting married and I get to see it happen!”
Charlie chuckled, half at Pim’s wording and half because there turned out to be three Red Bulls in the fridge. “I mean, you are her brother,” he said, grabbing ahold of one and cracking it open, “why wouldn’t you be?”
Pim stuttered over his words as he began his next sentence. “W-Well, growing up, she did always say she would never let me anywhere near her under any circumstances, especially on a day as important as her wedding,” he laughed but it was lilted with a tinge of awkwardness, “of course, I knew she didn’t mean it!”
Charlie blinked at Pim over the top of his can, slurping slowly as the words churned through his head. “...Right,” he said, watching Pim’s expression sift through a flicker of emotions before he continued on with his thrilled tirade.
“It’s going to be so nice to see her get married,” Pim prattled, “I was always worried it would take her a long time to find the right guy because she was always very picky about her boyfriends. Clearly, there was no reason for me to do so; she met the love of her life!”
Charlie squinted doubtfully. “Clearly,” he said into his can.
Pim stared up at him, seeming disappointed at Charlie’s lack of enthusiasm. A bit guilty, Charlie gulped down his mouthful of Red Bull a little quicker than he originally intended and offered Pim some support, “Um, that’s really great, though, man. I hope it goes well.”
To Charlie’s relief, the words seemed to brush back Pim’s disappointment. The critter smiled happily and continued to chatter about the upcoming wedding.
The work day went over pretty smoothly — especially once Charlie got the opportunity to chug down another energy drink. What time Pim didn’t spend astutely doing his job, he spent telling anyone who would listen that he was soon to have a brother-in-law. Charlie noticed, however, that for some reason Pim’s excitement toward the subject of Amy’s wedding was on a steady decline — and not in a way that suggested he was becoming accustomed to the idea, but rather that something else was beginning to crowd his mind. It wasn’t exactly hard to miss Pim acting unlike himself, considering who he was was boisterous and talkative.
So, when they were driving back from their last job of the day and the car was dead silent, with Pim staring hard at the road with his brow uncharacteristically furrowed, Charlie decided to prod him for a reason.
“What’s up with you?” he asked plainly, not missing the way Pim startled at the sound of his voice, as though he had been deep in his own head and Charlie had interrupted him.
Pim struggled to answer for a moment, tapping his thumbs against the steering wheel. “I’m just thinking about Amy’s wedding,” he said eventually.
Charlie sniffed and stared out of the passenger window, watching with mild interest as some jackass on a bicycle swerved through traffic and almost hit a car. “Yeah? I thought you were pumped up about it.”
Pim was silent in response, and when Charlie turned his head he saw that Pim was loosening and tightening his grip on the steering wheel over and over again. A prickle of concern was beginning to stir in him, growing uncomfortable at Pim’s off-putting behavior.
“Dude,” Charlie urged.
Pim jerked in his seat, startled again. “Sorry,” he sighed, “I’m just thinking about the wedding.”
Charlie stared at him for a long moment — long enough that Pim glanced away from the road to acknowledge it. “What?” he asked, clearly getting antsy under the gaze.
“No shit you’re thinking about the wedding,” Charlie gruffed, “but you’re freaking out about it now, and you freaking out is freaking me out.”
Pim frowned, voice coming out anxious, “Oh, gosh, I’m sorry, Charlie. I-I didn’t mean to upset you.”
Charlie shook his head, “Don’t apologize, man. Just tell me what’s up.”
Pim’s expression twisted anxiously, the sort of look that just didn’t quite belong on his face and made Charlie’s own gut tighten with another tinge of discomfort. Eventually, Pim let out a big sigh and shifted in his seat, “It’s just, well— my family can be a lot, and—”
“Bit of an understatement,” Charlie interrupted, wincing when Pim side-eyed him, quickly shutting his mouth.
Pim continued, “The whole wedding is over an entire weekend. Friday night they’re having a dinner with all of the family to celebrate, then Saturday is the actual wedding, and there’s a party on Sunday with some sort of… photoshoot, I think? And that’s…” Pim trailed off, mouth curving into a flat line.
“A lot?” Charlie offered, trying to keep his tone neutral.
“Yeah,” Pim nodded. Another pause of silence filled the car, a quiet ad on the radio and the obnoxious engine of a pickup near them the only sounds. Eventually, Pim spoke again, “It’s easier to visit when I choose to. Gosh, I hope that doesn’t make me sound like a terrible son.”
Charlie snorted at the ridiculousness of the statement. “Far from it,” he said, “you put up with a lot from them.”
“Charlie,” Pim chided, sighing again when Charlie only shrugged in response. “I am excited for Amy to get married,” he continued, “but…”
“You’re there ‘cause you have to be. And for a while,” Charlie finished.
Pim audibly swallowed and nodded again, guilt clear in his expression. The sight of him so distressed set Charlie on edge and made something in him horribly uncomfortable. He wasn’t sure what, but he knew that he needed something to get Pim to go back to normal so that he could too. Almost immediately, an idea struck him, and he blurted it out before he could think it through.
“What if I went with you?”
The suggestion evidently shocked Pim, because his foot jerked on the gas pedal and caused both him and Charlie to lurch in their seats. Charlie turned to Pim, mildly annoyed by the reaction, while Pim flashed him an apologetic grin. He coughed awkwardly and made a show of grabbing the steering wheel in a manner that would please a driving instructor, as though a silent promise to continue driving like a normal person.
“You, um, you would do that?” Pim asked softly after a moment. The tone of his voice made Charlie unable to look in his direction, instead opting to watch their surroundings pass by outside.
“Yeah,” he said nonchalantly, “family is rough, I get it. Just might make things easier if you have someone to complain about it to.”
“Oh, thank you, Charlie,” Pim praised, “it’s going to be so much fun with you there!”
“Uh-huh,” Charlie sighed, scratching his leg absent-mindedly. He glanced down at his cargo pants and wondered when the last time he had worn anything other than them or his sweatpants had been. “Uh, I don’t need to buy a new suit, do I?”
“Not at all!” Pim replied, “All of the color coordinating is in the bridal party. I think Amy’s only request was that, um,” he laughed a little awkwardly, “nobody looked ‘disgusting’.”
Charlie snorted, “Ooh. Bad news about me going then.”
Pim laughed in surprise, but quickly defended Charlie against himself, “Oh, don’t say that about yourself, Charlie!”
Ever the procrastinator, Charlie would wait to get his old, rumpled suit dry-cleaned two days before the wedding, despite having three months to prepare. It was just his luck that he got a call on Thursday that they were behind and that his suit wouldn’t be done until Friday afternoon.
Similarly, it was his luck that the first thing Pim asked him Friday morning was if he had everything ready to go so that they could head directly to their hotel after work.
“Uh,” Charlie had said usefully, “yeah, totally.”
He spent his lunch break that afternoon lead-footing his way to the dry cleaners.
“Oh, Charlie, that’s such a nice suit! I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear one before,” Pim said once they had clocked out and were sifting through their luggage in the backseat of Charlie’s beat-up SUV, making sure they had everything ready for the weekend.
Charlie shrugged as he closed the door to the back of the car, “Not a lot of occasions for me to wear one.”
He and Pim climbed into the front seat, Charlie starting up the car and struggling with the stereo’s Bluetooth connection for a solid minute or two, pleased once he had his music going. After confirming the address of the hotel with Pim, he plugged it into Google Maps, shoved his phone into the cheap plastic holder glued to his air vent, and peeled out of the parking lot, smirking to himself when he saw Pim grip his seat out of the corner of his eye.
From what Charlie knew, Amy’s wedding was at some upscale resort close to Pittsburgh. The hotel was built into it, making it the obvious and expensive choice for where he and Pim would be staying. Alongside the hotel bill were the payments for the food they’d be eating that weekend at the wedding — not even including the family dinner they’d be attending on the actual night they arrived. Maybe if Charlie had known how much the trip would be taking out of his wallet, he wouldn’t have offered to tag along — he had thought about saying so to Pim, but one thought of the little guy’s guilty expression and he bit his tongue.
“Charlie, have you ever played My Cows?” Pim asked a half hour into the drive.
Charlie squinted in confusion, eyes still on the road. “No.”
One glance at Pim and he saw a wide smile forming on the other man’s face. “Well, it’s a game where whenever you see a cow farm, you claim the cows before I can. But if I see a graveyard, I can kill your cows and you have to start over.”
Charlie nodded, “Okay. Wait, does it have to be a whole farm or—?”
“Any cow!”
“Like that?” Charlie asked, pointing to a truck passing them with a conveniently huge cow sticker on the right half of their back windshield and something about beef underneath it. “My cow.”
Pim made what could only be considered an affronted sound. “W— No, that’s— that’s not an actual cow—”
“You said any cow,” Charlie argued.
“But that’s a sticker!”
“You said any, dude.”
Pim huffed, “You knew what I meant when I said—”
“I’ve never played this game before, man, how am I supposed to—”
“—I mean, it’s common sense, Charlie—”
“—know what you mean or— common sense? Do you think I’m stupid?”
“I never said that!”
“What’d you mean by that then?”
“Well— I-I, uh, I dunno—”
“You think I’m stupid.”
“I don’t think you’re stupid, don’t say that!”
“Hey man, you started it—”
“I just wanted to play a game, I didn’t think—”
“MY COWS!”
Pim froze at the interruption, whipping his head around to where Charlie was pointing out of the windshield at a range of cows across the freeway.
Charlie bit his lip as he watched Pim turn, barely containing his amusement as he turned back around to glance between Charlie and the cow farm.
“You’re not very nice,” Pim said after a moment, but he was very clearly biting back a smile. Charlie’s grin didn’t stay contained and he chuckled openly, his laughter eliciting Pim’s own.
They were forty-five minutes out from the hotel when Charlie began to feel rather tired, mulling over the idea of going to dinner with Pim’s family in his head and feeling his exhaustion double just at the thought. It was almost seven and the sun was setting early and he had a bad sleeping schedule — it was a recipe for disaster.
He eyed Pim in the passenger seat, sitting there with a book open in his lap and reading glasses on. Charlie was impressed he could do such a thing in a moving vehicle — Charlie could barely read a street sign without getting car sick.
He wondered if he would be opposed to skipping the dinner.
“Hey,” Charlie said, curling his fingers around the volume knob to quiet the music. Pim perked up, closing his book with a thumb between the pages he had been reading. “I was— Uhh.… how important is the dinner tonight?”
Pim blinked up at him, confusion crossing his features. “What do you mean?”
Charlie bit his lip hesitantly. “Well… I mean, it’s just a dinner, right?”
Pim squinted at him. “Charlie, we aren’t going to skip it.”
Charlie grimaced, shoulders tight with disappointment at the denial and at being caught so quickly.
“We really can’t?” he pushed.
“Charlie,” Pim cautioned, drawing out his pronunciation of the ‘r’ in Charlie’s name in a way that made Charlie fold rather easily under the light pressure.
“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled.
They arrived at the resort just in time to park and immediately headed to the restaurant, which was thankfully attached to the same block, allowing them to brisk past a couple of buildings on foot and quickly find the restaurant.
“We should still be fairly early,” Pim was saying as they paced down the sidewalk, though he only sounded half-sure.
“Shit, man. When was the reservation for?” Charlie wheezed, trying to contain his huffing and puffing. He couldn’t remember the last time he had moved this quickly for anything.
“Ermmm,” Pim said usefully, flashing Charlie an awkward and clearly unknowing smile.
They stumbled rather ungracefully through the doors of the restaurant, out of breath and a bit sweaty, drawing some attention from guests toward the front. Pim took it all by the reins, though, grabbing Charlie by his sleeve and settling them in line behind the other waiting guests.
“Fuck,” Charlie panted, receiving a dirty look from a nearby woman as the curse left his mouth. He ignored her and peered into the dining area. “I hope we were early,” he mumbled to Pim.
“Graham said it was around eight,” Pim replied, also looking in.
“Around or at?”
“I-I’m not sure,” Pim admitted.
“Dude,” Charlie groaned.
“I know, I know,” Pim apologized, scrubbing his face with his hands. “Just—” he watched as the group in front of them was taken care of by a hostess, meaning he and Charlie were next. “Here. Let’s find out.”
They stepped forward to be greeted by an overly friendly smile from one of the hostesses. “Hi! Do you have a reservation?”
“Yes, um, Pimling,” Pim answered, “party of twelve.”
The hostess nodded and started tapping haphazardly on the company iPad in front of her. Charlie, who was just now regaining his breath, sighed in relief at the idea of finally getting to eat after being in the car for nearly three hours.
“Um,” the hostess stuttered, glancing between Pim and her iPad. “The Pimling party was scheduled for six. You’re… a bit late,” she said awkwardly.
”Six?” Pim and Charlie exclaimed simultaneously. The hostess stared uncomfortably at them.
“Dude, if this is because you read a text wrong—” Charlie started, feeling the weight of his exhaustion and hunger starting to hit him.
Pim interjected before he could get too far into his rambling, “No, no, no, it was a phone call. He told me eight, I swear!”
Charlie sighed, frustrated, but a flicker of guilt curled in his stomach as he saw Pim’s clearly bewildered expression. He glanced at the hostess, who was visibly unsure of how to proceed, and then at Pim, who was clearly suffering from the same symptom.
Charlie rubbed his eyes tiredly and put a hand on Pim’s shoulder, “Come on, man. It looks like we missed it.”
“I don’t—” Pim stuttered.
“It’s alright,” Charlie urged, nudging Pim gently forward and leading them out of the restaurant. Once they were back out on the sidewalk, Pim let out a sharp, baffled cry.
“Why would he tell me eight if it was at six?!”
“I don’t know, man,” Charlie asked tiredly. “You’re sure you didn’t mishear—?”
Pim quickly interrupted, “No! He said eight! Gosh, now— now Amy’s going to be upset with me for missing the dinner and—”
“Enough, enough,” Charlie cut in, Pim’s fretting and sad little face making his stomach turn, “can we please just get something to eat, dude? I haven’t eaten all day.”
He glanced down at Pim, quickly diverting his line of sight again when he saw that despairing expression still on his face.
“Yeah,” Pim mumbled after a moment, “anywhere’s fine.”
Charlie sighed and looked around the block they were on, searching for anything that looked cheap, desperate for something quick that wouldn’t be another blow to his checking account. He spotted a broken neon sign in a plaza down the strip, reading “BURGERS, BURGERS, BURGERS” and was instantly convinced.
They walked down the road to the burger place, Pim’s head burrowed in his phone, probably texting his family to apologize for being late and to inquire about the time mix-up. Charlie could feel the urge to bark at him to knock it off rising in his throat, but he swallowed it down and let Pim do his own thing. Besides, by the time they had meandered through the door of the restaurant, Charlie couldn’t think of anything other than getting food in front of him.
Once they were sat down with two pleasantly wide, foil-wrapped burgers, a tray of fries, and milkshakes, and Pim was still absorbed in his phone, however, Charlie’s annoyance grew, even as he took a bite considerably too big.
“Dude,” he said through his mouthful, “eat, man.”
Pim startled at Charlie’s speaking and quickly set his phone down on the table, a mix of frustration and guilt covering his face as he did so. “Shoot, I’m sorry,” Pim sighed, “I don’t mean to be rude, Charlie.”
Charlie ignored the unnecessary apology. “I’m sure Amy will get over it,” he said instead, “it’s just the reunion dinner.”
Pim frowned, meekly eating a fry or two, “That’s easy for you to say. It really upsets Amy when things don’t go according to plan.”
“Why do I get the feeling,” Charlie said between bites, “that ‘really upset’ means acting like a bitch.”
Pim’s face morphed into shock. “Charlie!”
Charlie shrugged under Pim’s mortified gaze, “I’m just saying. She either really cared about this dinner going well, meaning she would have made sure you knew when it was, or she didn’t think it was super important, so she wasn’t worried about everybody making it on time. I mean, you said Graham told you when it was. Why didn’t she?”
Pim frowned, dropping eye contact to stare nervously at his food. “W-Well, I texted Amy but she never answered. But weddings are really stressful, especially one as ornate as this! So I just texted Graham instead.”
Charlie slowly reached forward to sip at his milkshake, smacking his lips thoughtfully. “Pim, she had three months to get back to you. Isn’t that kind of weird?”
“Graham probably told her that I reached out to him,” Pim reasoned, rubbing his brow and suddenly appearing rather tired. “It’s going to be fine,” he said, but it seemed like he was reassuring himself more so than Charlie.
Charlie shrugged and left it there, scarfing down more of his food and offering to eat Pim’s when he noticed it was still there.
They walked back to the hotel after dinner, Charlie satiated and ready to pass out in his bed. The two of them stopped by the car to unload their luggage and haul it inside, joining the queue of people waiting to check in. Once at the front of the line, Charlie — who decidedly took the lead on booking their room after the whole Brazil fiasco — gave his name to the worker and waited for their room keys.
“Mr. Dompler, correct?”
“Yeah.”
The worker squinted at their computer in a way vaguely familiar to the hostess at the restaurant earlier, and Charlie got the feeling that they were about to receive more bad news.
“Okay, so somebody was supposed to give you a call but clearly they didn’t; our facility has been having some plumbing issues and that room actually flooded last night. Now, we can refund that room and move you to another one, but we only have singles available. Is that okay?”
Charlie felt a deep sigh leave his chest. He glanced at Pim, who was rather obviously encased in his thoughts and not listening, an anxious expression on his face.
Damn it.
“Yeah, that’s fine,” he grumbled, “can you split that bill in half?”
“Certainly,” the clerk said, doing some clicking and typing, “I’ll move your guys’ payments to the other room and refund what’s left over from your original choice.” They reached under their computer and set two keycards on the countertop. “Your room is four-forty-three and your checkout is Monday morning at eleven. Have a wonderful stay.”
Charlie muttered a thanks and pawed the keycards off of the desk, handing one to Pim, who blinked back into reality when Charlie waved it in front of his face.
“I think I’m ready for bed,” Pim said tiredly as they walked to the elevator. Charlie chuckled a bit uncomfortably, knowing that Pim hadn’t been tuned in to his conversation with the clerk at all. Pim chuckled too, thinking Charlie was amused at his comment.
This is going to be a rough weekend.
“Oh,” Pim said when they walked into their room.
“Yeah,” Charlie sighed.
“Erm… where’s the other bed?”
Charlie tipped over his suitcase to lie it on the floor. “Flooded,” he replied, kneeling on the ground to rifle through it.
“...Huh?”
Charlie let out a frustrated breath and looked away from his suitcase to glare at Pim. “Dude, were you listening earlier at all?”
Pim paled at the question, embarrassed. “N-No, I’m sorry,” he mumbled.
Charlie huffed and dug through his unfolded clothes, looking for his sweatpants. “Our room got flooded, so we had to take this one instead.”
Pim was silent for a moment. “They didn’t have any other ones available?”
“I’m gonna shower, dude, I’m not gross,” Charlie grunted.
Pim quickly retorted, “I-I didn’t mean it like that, I’m sorry!”
“It’s fine,” Charlie said, though his tone was sharp. Upon finally finding his sweatpants, he grabbed a tank top and boxers as well, lifting himself off of the ground and moving around Pim to go straight for the bathroom. He could hear Pim begin to say something else, but he closed the door behind him.
Under the weak, lukewarm spray of the shower — no kidding about the plumbing problems — Charlie thought about what he could be doing if he had stayed home instead. Maybe playing some video games, doing some toking, and sprawling in his own bed. He sighed and leaned his head against the shower wall, gently knocking his forehead against it a few times as he tried to not get too frustrated about the fact that he couldn’t do any of those things right now or for the next three nights.
Pim didn’t say anything to him when he came out of the bathroom, only brushing past him with his own armful of pajamas and shutting the bathroom door. The quiet and uneasy feeling in the room set Charlie on edge, leading him to flop down on one side of the hotel bed and stuff his face in his phone, scrolling aimlessly and trying to distract himself.
Of course, though, Pim eventually left the bathroom and Charlie felt the weight of the bed dip beside him, his stomach mirroring the feeling.
“I’m sorry I’ve been so distracted,” Pim mumbled after a moment.
Charlie briefly fiddled with the power button on his phone before decidedly turning it off and rolling onto his back, turning his head to look at Pim. The other critter was in black flannel pajama pants and a white t-shirt with some off-brand logo on it. This close, Charlie could see that he still had a bit of water from the shower drying on his face.
Swallowing hard, Charlie looked away before they could make eye contact, but he knew Pim was looking at him.
“I’ve been kind of a dick about this, don’t worry about it,” he said. In his periphery, he could see Pim’s fingers gently pulling at a loose thread on his pants, more intent on playing with it than actually removing it.
“You didn’t have to come with me, though,” Pim said, “I should be a better host.”
Charlie eyed him fully now, brow raised. “It’s not your wedding,” he said.
Pim gave him a sideways glance, “You know what I mean.”
Charlie shrugged, averting his gaze. “Sure.”
It got quiet again, Charlie’s eyes drifting around the room restlessly. He and Pim argued enough that it wasn’t incredibly weird, but something about this was different. Pim was uncharacteristically on edge in a way that got under Charlie’s skin and made him feel weird inside — and both of those experiences were new in their own way, meaning Charlie had no clue how to appropriately deal with them other than just outright ignoring them or getting irritable.
Forcing himself to yawn, Charlie rolled back over to face the wall. “Alright. Goodnight, man.”
“Uh— right. Goodnight, Charlie.”
They woke up early the following morning — or, rather, Pim woke up early and then had to wake Charlie up, too.
Pim spent his time getting ready in the bathroom while Charlie utilized the complimentary coffee maker atop their room’s small counter, blinking slowly as he watched it brew into a thin paper cup. He had unfortunately forgotten to bring any energy drinks with him.
“When do we need to be there?” Charlie asked, leaning toward the direction of the bathroom to better project his voice.
“It starts at one, so twelve!” Pim called through the door.
Charlie glared at the door then, as though Pim would be able to tell. It was only eight.
“Fuck this,” he grumbled, abandoning the freshly brewed coffee to crawl back into bed.
Face pressed against a pillow and still fairly tired, Charlie managed to start dozing off pretty quick. At least until the bathroom door opened and Pim saw him lying back down.
“Charlie, come on,” Pim huffed. “We need to get ready.”
“Still got like a million hours, dude,” Charlie retorted, muffled against the pillow.
He heard Pim sigh, which amused him enough to turn his head and peek at the other critter. He regretted it instantly, sick at the sight of Pim in his dark blue dress pants, brown suede shoes, and white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled over his elbows.
“I was hoping we could get breakfast together,” Pim elaborated, fiddling with the fold of his pants pocket.
Charlie blinked at him, feeling very awake all of a sudden. And his mouth rather dry. He wanted to turn away but it seemed abruptly impossible to do so.
“Yeah, I guess,” he said weakly.
Pim immediately smiled in response and Charlie felt the pit in his stomach grow.
“Well, get ready then!” Pim insisted happily.
“Yeah,” Charlie rasped, tearing his eyes away.
Charlie took his time getting ready in the bathroom, trying and failing to not think about Pim waiting around for him in the other room, all dressed up. He swallowed hard as he tugged on his pink-gray shirt, fiddling with the buttons at the cuffs as he tried to replicate the rolled-up sleeve look Pim was dawning. He struggled and haphazardly twisted them up instead, calling it good enough and tucking the bottom half of the shirt into his pants.
“I’m good to go,” he announced as he walked out of the bathroom, nose twitching from the smell of the cologne he had just sprayed — he was certain it was Pim’s considering he had forgotten to bring his own and reached for the first thing he saw on the vanity.
Pim stared at him for a moment, eyes flitting over his outfit. Charlie could feel himself growing uncomfortable under the gaze, and said with a bit of an edge to his voice, “I don’t, uh, dress up very often. So. If I look bad, sorry, I guess.”
Pim blinked and shook his head gently, “You look great, Charlie.” His tone was soft and weird and rubbed Charlie the wrong way. “Erm— your, heh, sleeves do need fixed though,” Pim acknowledged, and before Charlie could respond, Pim was slipping into his personal space, mumbling, “Here, let me,” and touching his arm, thumb sliding under Charlie’s bunched up sleeve and grazing his skin.
Charlie could feel his teeth grit but he did nothing, instead playing this odd sort of game with himself where he went back and forth between carefully watching and looking away entirely.
“If you don’t do it properly you’ll wrinkle your sleeves,” Pim explained, folding the cuff back with gentle precision. Charlie struggled to inhale properly as Pim’s toothpaste-laden breath wafted between them, something in his chest telling him that they shouldn’t be so close like this. Despite the thought, he allowed Pim to continue to adjust his other cuff.
“There you are,” Pim said when finished, evidently pleased with his work as he stepped back to eye Charlie again.
“Great, can we go?” Charlie nagged, unsure of how much more ogling he could take, uncomfortably aware of the heat rising in his face.
“Oh, uh, of course!” Pim said, looking weirdly guilty but overcoming it with his cheeriness. “Let’s go!”
As they took the elevator downstairs, Pim clarified his breakfast plans, detailing how he had seen a cafe across from the hotel when looking out of their window earlier that morning. Charlie nodded along, barely listening after glancing down at Pim and realizing the top button of his shirt was undone.
Pim chattered all the way to the cafe, Charlie doing his best to avoid eye contact with the sliver of Pim’s visible chest and keep them from getting run over when crossing the street. Once at the doors of the cafe, Charlie mentally prepared himself for whatever gourmet breakfast experience Pim had devised for them — but was sorely disappointed when they entered and it was a simple diner-style coffee shop. If he hadn’t already, Charlie was feeling well overdressed now.
“Why did we dress up for this?” he asked once they were seated, interrupting whatever it was Pim was talking about at that point.
That odd guilt flashed across Pim’s face again. “I-I just thought it would be nice. You don’t ever, um, j-just get fancy for fun?”
Charlie cocked a brow, willing Pim to remember who exactly he was speaking to.
Pim seemed to get it. “Heh. Right,” he chuckled tensely.
A server approached the table then, taking their drink orders and briskly walking away, leaving them to their stilted conversation.
Charlie was wishing more and more that he didn’t invite himself to the wedding; it was so weird with Pim. Why was it so weird? They were never this weird.
“Sooo,” Charlie started, scratching his neck, “uh, how big is the wedding? I know we’re at a resort, so…”
Pim, seeming relieved at an in for actual discussion, let out a short whistle. “It’s big! Graham told me there were going to be like, two hundred guests.”
“Holy shit, dude. Who even knows that many people?”
Pim giggled, “Right? Amy was pretty popular in high school, I guess.”
Charlie snorted at that. “Dude, isn’t she older than you? Who still has that many friends from high school?”
“I dunno! I know I don’t,” Pim shrugged, “I can’t remember the last time I talked to someone I knew that long ago.”
“Oh, dude, I can. Just one guy, though; the other died in a gruesome rock-climbing accident. This guy, Frunk, though, he—”
Pim interrupted, ”Frunk? Like— like Frank with a, with a ‘u’?”
“Yeah. That’s— what, is that like a w— have you seriously never met a Frunk before?”
“I mean, evidently not because that’s— I didn’t know the name; I didn’t know that was a name.”
“Well it is.”
“W— I— You knew one, so yeah. Obviously it is.”
They stared at each other for a moment, before both opening their mouths again, continuing to speak over each other:
“I mean, what kind of name is Pim?”
“I didn’t mean anything by it, I’ve just never heard of a— um, I-I dunno, that’s just my name.”
“Pim is kind of weird,” Charlie continued, emphasizing every letter, ”Pim.”
Pim’s brow twitched. “It’s not that weird.”
“Have you ever met another Pim?” Charlie challenged, enjoying the way Pim’s expression tightened a little more at the comment.
“Well— no, I guess I haven’t. But that doesn’t make it a weird name.”
“And your last name is Pimling,” Charlie continued, “that’s kind of funny.”
Pim’s gentle irritation visibly grew. Charlie couldn’t contain the smirk on his face, which only seemed to fuel the other critter’s annoyance.
“Maybe I think Charlie is a weird name,” Pim shot back lamely, “it’s short for Charles. Which— which is kind of funny sounding.”
Charlie was unable to withhold his laughter. Pim’s bunched shoulders loosened at the sound and his frown melted into a puzzled, but relaxed smile.
”Charlie,” Pim huffed, accent curling sweetly around the letters, “you have to stop messing with me!”
“It’s so easy to rile you up, though,” Charlie grinned, “it’s—” and his grin dropped as he almost said cute , quickly stuttering as he wracked his brain for a significantly less affectionate term, “—uhh, funny. Hah.”
Pim furrowed his brow, but he was still smiling, a soft tinge of red on his cheeks. Charlie could feel his brain turning fuzzy at the sight and unconsciously glanced down at the space where Pim’s shirt collar wasn’t buttoned.
“Here are those drinks,” their server interrupted, seemingly surprising both Charlie and Pim as she appeared, sliding two wide mugs onto the table. “Can I get anything else for you?”
“U-Um, yeah, can I get the avocado toast?” Pim said, and for some reason, he was glancing at Charlie.
Charlie, confused by the look, raised a brow but turned his attention to ordering when the server turned to him. When she finished writing it down and left with the promise of getting their food out to them as soon as possible, Charlie nudged Pim with his foot under the table.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“Huh?”
Charlie squinted at him. “You gave me a weird look when the waitress came by?”
Pim audibly swallowed, “Did I?”
Charlie cocked his head at him and mulled over the strange behavior. Then, he remembered where exactly they were and where they were going in a few hours. Damn wedding, Charlie huffed internally, making Pim all… weird.
Charlie sighed, “I told you, man, you can just tell me when something’s up. I know I was dicking around a second ago, but if anything is on your mind, you can say it.”
Pim opened and closed his mouth, seeming suddenly nervous. His eyes moved between Charlie and the table. “I-I mean— um.”
Charlie continued, desperate to keep all of the wrong emotions off of Pim’s face and from disturbing what little peace of mind Charlie was still clinging to. “I’m not that dense,” he said, “I can tell.”
Pim turned a bit pale. “Y-You can?”
“Yeah, dude. You’re super obvious.” Just tell me you’re thinking about the stupid wedding again, Charlie thought to himself, wondering how long it would take for Pim to say it. The little guy was always trying to downplay how stressed he was — Charlie wasn’t sure he could take any more pathetic looks of despair.
Pim’s breathing audibly shifted. “Oh,” he said, licking his lips anxiously, something Charlie had to peel his eyes away from. “I— well. Are— are you— are you upset?”
Charlie grunted, “I mean, I’m more bothered that you can’t just admit that you’re freaking yourself out.”
Pim struggled to look up at him, which ignited an odd feeling worse than when Pim did look at him. “I’m— freaking myself— is, are you— do I—”
Pim was saying a lot and very little at the same time. Charlie was becoming increasingly antsy at the excessive twitching Pim’s face was doing as he struggled to settle on an expression. Simultaneously, his annoyance was growing because Pim wouldn’t just say it.
“Come on, man,” Charlie interrupted and Pim halted his blubbering immediately, “I shouldn’t have to try and convince you to talk about this stuff. I mean, I came here pretty much just for that reason.”
Pim audibly choked, even though nothing was in his mouth, “Y-You what?” he wheezed.
Charlie glared at him, peeved by the question. “What do you mean, ‘what’? What do you think we’re talking about right now?” he asked sarcastically.
Pim’s face flushed and he jerked up in his seat, “W-What do you think we’re talking about?!” he blurted.
Charlie could feel his head spin in bewilderment. “I don’t know, maybe how you won’t just admit that you can’t stop freaking out about your sister’s stupid wedding,” he huffed, gesturing frustratedly over their coffee mugs.
Pim stared at him with wide eyes and Charlie scoffed more so out of perplexity than exasperation.
“Y-Yeah,” Pim choked out, “I— yeah, I’m really worked up about that. A lot!”
Charlie leaned back into his seat, rubbing the side of his face irritatedly. He tried to replay their back-and-forth in his head but it was so odd he couldn’t manage.
Pim stuttered on, tone a little more genuine and a little less frantic, “I— I am stressed about it. That’s— I was hoping being with y— having breakfast would be nice. A, um, distraction.”
Charlie slowly sat back up, resting an arm along the back of his chair as he did so. “Clearly it’s not a good one if you’re looking at me weird,” he grumbled.
Pim frowned and reddened, probably embarrassed about being caught. Charlie sighed and took a drink of his stupid fancy coffee from the stupid cafe in his stupid nice clothes that he was wearing for his stupid friend.
“You gotta power through,” he advised, “it’s just a wedding. Amy’s the center of attention tonight; don’t worry about anybody freaking out on you.”
Pim meekly stared at him, beginning to melt a little into his chair. “Yeah,” he said softly, but he still looked fairly worn down — almost disappointed, which was strange. Charlie didn’t like that.
Needing it to stop, Charlie swallowed around the knot forming in his throat in response to the words rising out of it, “Besides, I, uh, I’m gonna be there for you, man.”
Pim blinked, then smiled just a bit.
“Okay.”
They arrived at the venue at exactly twelve, sleeves unrolled, and suit jackets and ties adorned.
Charlie had to admit, it was nice as hell: the venue was a wide hall, garnished with white ribbons and flowers along the walls and even the floor. The arch at the end of the room was wooden, looking as though it belonged in a garden with various flowers strategically woven into its shape. Across the floor, there were well over a hundred large, round tables with silky tablecloths and white petals, ornate bouquets of ivory and green at the center of each. The lighting was made up primarily by the sunshine coming in through the tall windows on the second story of the hall, painting the room a soft yellow.
And Pim wasn’t kidding — there was a shitload of people packed in there.
“Wow,” Pim gasped softly in amazement, “this is so beautiful!”
“Yeah,” Charlie agreed, genuine. When Pim didn’t respond, he looked over, startled to see Pim’s lip curling and eyes watering.
“My sister’s getting married here,” he said tearfully.
Charlie patted his shoulder awkwardly, “Yeah, man, she sure is. You don’t, uh, have to cry, though.”
Pim sniffed and carefully wiped his eyes, “I’m so happy, Charlie.”
“Uh-huh.”
At that moment, Pim’s cousin, Graham Nelly, appeared seemingly out of thin air, wearing an untucked button-up with a poorly washed-out stain on the stomach. “Holy shit,” he said, seeming surprised despite his monotonous tone, “you’re actually here.”
Pim smiled widely at him, though Charlie had half a mind to punt the guy for lying about dinner last night.
“Graham! Hello! Of course I’m here, I wouldn’t miss it for the world!”
Graham chuckled in a manner Charlie could only relate to Beavis and Butthead. “Huh. Yeah. Crazy.”
“Is Amy getting ready?” Pim asked, “Can I see her?”
“I dunno, man,” Graham said usefully. Charlie rolled his eyes.
Abruptly, Pim’s mother emerged from the sea of guests, a glass of wine in her hand. “PIM! PIM! PIM,” she shouted in her scratchy, pitchy tone, somehow still audible even over the echo of conversations. Pim lit up at the sight of his mother, stepping away to hug her, leaving Charlie with the cousin.
The cousin who was actively staring at Charlie like he had bugs on his face.
Irritated, Charlie grunted, “Hey dude, why the hell did you lie to Pim about the dinner last night? We could’ve eaten on the way here but instead, I had to drive three freakin’ hours starving to death.”
Graham blinked at him so slowly that Charlie could vaguely imagine the sound of his eyes opening and closing. “I dunno.”
Charlie sighed, resisting the urge to loosen the tie around his neck. He glanced at Graham, who was still staring at him.
“Dude. What’s your deal?”
Graham laughed grossly again. “I am real fuckin’ baked right now, man. This new pen I got fucks .”
“Really, dude? Wedding hasn’t even started yet,” Charlie grumbled, then took in Graham’s relaxed state. “...Got it on you?”
Another chortle. “Ahah. You know it. Want a hit?”
“Not in here,” Charlie said, urging Pim’s cousin out of the hall.
By the time Charlie rediscovered Pim, feeling significantly lighter, he was sitting at a table with his mother, chatting animatedly. She didn’t seem to be listening very closely, absorbed in her drink, but she was responding nonetheless.
“Oh! Charlie, there you are!” Pim said upon spotting him. “I saved you a seat,” he smiled, gesturing to the empty chair beside him.
Charlie mumbled a thanks as he settled down at the table, pointedly ignoring Pim’s beaming expression. “Hi, uh, Mrs. Pimling,” Charlie coughed, nodding at Pim’s mother.
She took no notice of his greeting, engaging Pim in conversation again. Charlie scoffed softly at the interaction, more surprised than annoyed. He had never really been sure if she just didn’t like him or couldn’t recognize anyone who wasn’t a member of their family — he didn’t really care either way, instead slipping his phone out of his pocket to play on as he listened to Pim chatter.
He had his browser open on the New York Times’ webpage when Pim interrupted him.
“Charlie,” he said softly.
“Hold on,” he said, “the Connections today is really fucking hard.”
Pim had the decency to let out a soft giggle at his troubles before continuing, “It’s about to start.”
Charlie fumbled to put his phone away, cursing again as he tore his eyes away from “Words That Begin With Music Genres.”
The room was still humming with talk, now significantly more hushed, Amy’s soon-to-be husband standing stiffly at the altar, appearing exactly as Charlie remembered him; the only difference was his hair was gelled back. Beside him were his groomsmen, all of which looked fairly similar to himself, enough to elicit a breathy laugh out of Charlie.
“Charlie, why are you laughing?” Pim whispered, glancing around as the first few notes of the Wedding March began to play.
“They all look the same, dude,” he said a bit too loudly, loosened up by the hits he’d taken off of Graham’s pen. The few surrounding people who heard him eyeballed him.
”Charlie,” Pim chastised in a hiss, smiling purely out of nervousness.
“Sorry, sorry.”
The DJ came over the speaker then, asking everybody to stand up for the bride’s entrance. Charlie arose from his chair a bit awkwardly, throwing a quick glance at the groom, who had the decency to look like he might throw up. For his sake, Charlie hoped he didn’t.
A few preteen-aged girls in little pink dresses walked down the aisle, tossing flower petals as they did so, followed closely behind by Pim’s father and Amy.
Amy’s dress was sleek and tight and almost startlingly revealing at the bust — Charlie averted his eyes out of respect, reorienting his attention to Pim, who was beginning to softly cry beside him. A flourish of discomfort and affection pulsed through Charlie’s chest, and he set a sweaty hand on Pim’s shoulder, which was received by Pim’s own hand coming up to clutch it. Charlie tried not to think too hard about the feeling of Pim’s fingers curled over his own and just squeezed the other critter gently.
It seemed like an eternity before Amy reached the altar, Charlie wondering if the drag of time could be blamed purely on her flaunting her dress or the weed or the point of contact between him and Pim — maybe a bit of all three. Either way, it took decades before the DJ was finally telling everyone to sit back down, allowing Charlie to breathe a little easier.
Charlie zoned out for the rest of the ceremony, letting his mind wander as Amy swore loyalty in sickness and in health to the brick wall standing beside her.
He deliberated over the last twenty-four hours and how weird things were between him and Pim, trying to look for any reason beyond Pim’s anxieties about the wedding. He couldn’t think of anything too out of the ordinary, though he was avoiding the subject of his own feelings entirely.
He couldn’t go there — if he did, he couldn’t turn back.
Besides, all of the bizarre rousings he got from just looking at Pim were already too much; there was no way he could even begin to actually try and think about them.
Damn it, he groaned internally, this counts as thinking about it.
Charlie grimaced externally at the realization.
He shoved the thoughts down and longed for another toke off of Graham’s pen, disappointed at the fact that he knew there was no chance he was going to see the stupid guy again with how many damn people were at this wedding. He wasn’t sure Graham had even followed him back into the venue afterward.
Just then, Charlie caught a glimpse of the sunlight reflecting off of Mrs. Pimling’s wine glass and realized that, unless she brought her own wine and glass to the wedding, that meant there was probably a bar somewhere in this godforsaken venue. He sighed with relief at the thought of getting his hands on a drink as soon as Amy and Alpha Male of the Year finished up their vows.
Fortunately for Charlie, it wasn’t long before Amy and Whatshisname stepped out of the room together, the DJ announcing that the reception would begin in another hour. Everybody clapped as they left, whooping and hollering, the room bursting back to life once they were completely gone.
“Oh, that was beautiful!” Pim rasped, tear streaks on his face. Charlie frowned at the sight but tried to remember it was because he was just happy. “Charlie, wasn’t that beautiful?” Pim asked him, looking up at him with his big, wet eyes.
Charlie felt his stomach turn and nodded aggressively, “Yeah, it was great or whatever; I’m gonna go get a drink.”
“Oh— okay,” Pim said, Charlie not giving him much of a chance to respond as he stepped away from the table hurriedly, knowing that wherever the bar was, it was about to be crowded.
He was lucky enough to find it on the opposite end of the massive hall, practically hidden behind a giant tarp hung up for the purpose of taking photos in front of it. He was right about it getting crowded, even though it was only two in the afternoon. He supposed he didn’t have much room to judge, however, considering he had practically sprinted across the venue to get to it.
“Whiskey,” Charlie panted to the bartender once he reached the barside, “neat. Four fingers.”
The bartender side-eyed him as they reached for a bottle of Jameson. “Three’s the limit. You want more, you can buy more.”
Charlie grumbled an insult under his breath but let it be, giving the bartender a weak smile when he was handed his glass. He had hoped all of the money that went into the wedding budget would have included the bar — evidently not.
Halfway through his second glass, Charlie began to feel some guilt curling in his gut. He hoped Pim was enjoying the wedding — and he hoped he wasn’t searching for him; Charlie was definitely on the path to getting tipsy and it was barely three o’clock. A knot was building in his throat, which he tried to wear down with the whiskey’s burn. Thinking about Pim right now was making his head hurt. He didn’t want to think about why.
Of course, on his third drink, Pim found him.
“Charlie? Have you been at the bar this whole time? I— I was looking for you,” he said, sounding antsy as his eyes flickered between the glass in Charlie’s hand and Charlie’s face.
Charlie squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, as though it would will Pim to go away. “Uhh, yeah,” he admitted, hesitant. He shifted to face Pim better, the movement feeling a bit sluggish. He tried not to grimace as he realized the whiskey was starting to hit him.
Pim seemed to realize it, too, judging by the way his eyes were narrowing. Charlie cringed.
“Are— are you getting drunk?”
Absolutely. “No,” Charlie scoffed, “this is my first drink; line was long.” He ignored the bartender’s gaze.
Pim’s expression barely changed, clearly skeptical. He began to walk closer, Charlie’s nerves fraying the nearer he got to him. “Charlie,” he murmured and Charlie swallowed hard, “I— y-you said you were going to be here for me tonight. But you keep running off.”
Pim’s tone was sheepish despite the displeased look on his face. Charlie felt the remorse tingling in his chest right beside his apprehension, fingers tightening nervously around his glass.
“Uh,” he struggled, “I’m, uh, sorry. I—” he smacked his lips, scraping his liquor brain for an excuse, “—I’m not great with, uh, big crowds.”
Pim frowned suddenly, guilt overcoming his features. Charlie immediately regretted his lie.
“Oh, Charlie, if I had known that—”
“N-no, don’t worry about it, dude. I could’a said somethin’,” Charlie cut in, wincing as he began to slur. Pim eyed him in a way that worried him that the other critter might be seeing past his ‘one drink’ fib.
“Charlie—”
Suddenly, a high-pitched voice barged into their conversation: “Oh my god. Are you Amy’s little brother?”
Pim and Charlie turned to see an orange female critter with fried blonde hair, dressed in one of the bridesmaids’ outfits. She had a martini in one hand and the other on her hip.
Pim and Charlie glanced at each other, both clearly wondering who this person was. Pim spoke up, “Oh, um, yes! Are you one of Amy’s friends? I must say, your dress is lovely!”
She blinked at him and then laughed in a brief sequence of obnoxious snorts. Charlie decidedly took a long drink of his Jameson.
“Wow,” she cackled, folding over and smacking her knee, “you really are just like she described! Wow!” She whipped her head around then, yelling for ‘Libby’ to ‘get the hell over here.’
Another critter joined her, also in a bridesmaid’s dress. Her skin was green and she had an orange spray tan.
“Libs, you won’t believe this,” the first girl said, pointing to Pim with her drink, “this is Amy’s little brother!”
Pim smiled but looked a bit confused. The innocence on his face had Charlie feeling a bit resentful at the girls’ odd behavior toward him. His stomach was beginning to hurt. He took another drink.
‘Libby’ gasped, “No way!”
“Yes way!”
“Wow,” Libby continued, “look at you! You— you’re—” and she erupted into laughter, as if unable to contain herself. The blonde joined her.
Pim awkwardly laughed too, “Heh, yeah! Um, is Amy still getting ready for the reception? I was really hoping to ask her about giving a toast — she doesn’t really like surprises, so—”
Libby broke out into more raucous laughter, interrupting Pim’s sentence. Pim blinked, confounded, but withstood the noise. Charlie glared at her, unknowing that it looked more as though he were blearily gazing.
“Oh! Ohhh,” Libby howled, wiping her eyes as she recovered. “You know what? Let’s go see her,” Libby said, thin brows raising excitedly.
Pim lightened up considerably, “That would be wonderful!”
Libby and the other girl eyed each other mischievously, snorting again, and Charlie couldn’t help himself. He stepped away from the bar, limbs a bit unsure where they would land but ultimately making it beside Pim.
“Hey, what’s—” he struggled, then tried again, “You’re actin’ weird. What’s goin’ on?”
The two girls side-eyed him, significantly less amused by him than they were by Pim.
Pim put a hand on Charlie’s arm, causing Charlie to jump a bit as he craned his head to look down at him.
“They’re going to take me to see Amy,” Pim said, smiling, “don’t worry, Charlie.”
Something in Charlie’s chest ached. “Pim,” he slurred, watching his friend grimace at the waft of whiskey-breath fanning his face, “something is not right here.”
“It’s fine, Charlie,” Pim insisted, backing away from Charlie and his bad breath. “I’ll be back! Um, maybe slow down on the alcohol. A-and if you’re overwhelmed go get some fresh air!”
Charlie wasn’t given the opportunity to retort, Pim joining the other two critters and disappearing into the crowd. Charlie huffed indignantly and spun back around to the bar.
Fine, he thought to himself, don’t listen to me.
“Can I get another whiskey?” Charlie garbled to the bartender.
“You’ve had three, man. No more.”
Charlie scowled at him, “What kind of bartender are you, huh?”
The bartender scoffed, “Bud, you’ve drained ninety bucks in the last thirty minutes and it’s still daylight outside. Go on.”
Wounded by the acknowledgement, Charlie glowered and submitted, grumbling as he shuffled away.
I shouldn’t have come here, he told himself for the umpteenth time that weekend. This is so stupid. I’m so stupid.
He waded through the guests, spotting his seat from earlier and flopping into it, his head spinning and foggy. The whiskey was definitely kicking in — it was probably a good thing that he had been cut off.
Charlie pulled his hands into his lap and sat awkwardly, glancing around at the other guests. He wondered if they could tell he was inebriated. His neck felt hot.
Fuck, he cursed inwardly, this is stupid. So stupid. He cleared his throat and reached up to loosen his tie a bit. One of the other people still sitting at the table side-eyed him and he grinned uncomfortably.
Desperate for distraction, Charlie dug his phone out of his pants, thumb leaving a track of sweat across the screen. He opened and scrolled through every app he could think of, at one point unmuting a video of Burnout: Revenge gameplay and startling when it played loudly, quickly putting his phone on silent. He closed social media after that and opted to play one of the few mobile games he had, starting an attack on Allan’s village in Clash of Clans. He chuckled when he got a text that simply read, “Fuck you.”
By the time he looked back up, Charlie was alarmed to see that Amy and her new husband were sitting at the sweetheart table in the front of the room, accompanied by their wedding party — including the two girls that had been poking fun at Pim earlier.
Charlie squinted, confused, and glanced at the empty chair beside him. Where was Pim?
Charlie turned back to his phone and opened his messages. There wasn’t anything other than Allan’s text from earlier. Charlie frowned and began to text Pim.
Today 3:37 PM
Charlie: whar r u
Charlie: w*her
Charlie: *whe
Charlie: u get it
He stared at the screen, anxiety wounding as it remained on “Delivered” for longer than he would have liked. A sigh of relief left him when it changed to “Seen”.
Pim: I'm outside.
Charlie blinked.
?????
Pim: In the garden.
y r u outsied
?
Pim: Amy kicked me out):
Charlie’s heart clenched.
Shit. Shit shit shit.
He didn’t think too much about the implications of someone hurriedly stumbling out of the room during the best man’s toast, but he also didn’t really give a shit considering he was both tipsy and now personally beefing with Amy and her stupid wedding.
Charlie stepped out of the venue hall, entering a thin, empty hallway that seemed to go on forever in either direction. He frowned, glancing around desperately for some signage that might lead him to the garden.
Maybe he was just drunk or this venue hated its guests, but he couldn’t see anything.
Damn it.
He decidedly chose a direction and began moving, a hand rising to occasionally brush the wall and keep him upright, knees feeling untrustworthy in his current state. He wandered the halls of the venue for an indeterminable amount of time, getting frustrated when he reached dead ends or exits that only led to parking lots.
He wasn’t sure how long it had been, but Charlie, now with his collar open and tie completely undone around his neck, finally found a set of glass doors leading out to the garden at the back of a hallway he was sure he had passed before in his perilous search.
The influx of sunlight nearly blinded him as he stepped outside, Charlie wincing and shielding his eyes. Squinting against the harsh light, he followed the stone bricks under his feet into the garden’s courtyard, passing under an arch wrapped with flowers.
He had to admit, it was pretty: stone walls encased the garden, lined and hung with a variety of flowers, a myriad of colors bringing the space to life. At the center of the courtyard was a wide water fountain, cascading and reflecting the sunlight in its waters — and on its flat brim sat Pim, hunched over with his head in his hands.
Charlie swallowed and slowly approached, feeling his mouth go dry as he realized Pim’s suit jacket was lying beside him, sleeves sloppily bunched over his elbows, tie visibly loose around his open shirt collar.
He’s upset, Charlie reminded himself, shame rolling through his chest.
Pim looked up as Charlie sat down next to him. His eyes were red, sadness etched into his expression. He softly rasped a hello.
Charlie thought that if he saw Amy that moment he would do something wildly irrational.
“What happened, dude?” he asked instead of lingering on that thought, idly watching as Pim wiped at the corners of his eyes.
Pim shrugged weakly, staring out at the flowers around them. “Amy, um, said that I wasn’t supposed to be here,” he elaborated faintly, then let out a humorless laugh, “I guess she wasn’t lying about not letting me come to her wedding.”
Charlie’s brow furrowed. “That’s bullshit,” he huffed, “she literally invited you.”
“She said she didn’t know how I got that,” Pim sighed, sniffling.
Charlie grumbled, feeling his resentment stirring, “I don’t understand why she’s such a bitch to you.”
“Charlie,” Pim scolded, then continued with his cheek resting in his palm, “...I’m not very happy with you either.”
Charlie’s face fell at that, eliciting another sigh from Pim.
“It’s the middle of the day, Charlie,” Pim continued, “and you’re drunk at my sister’s wedding.”
Charlie grimaced, unsure how to defend himself; he couldn’t think of any excuses. Maybe if he weren’t wasted, he could.
Damn it.
“Sorry,” he mumbled instead, cringing as the word left of his mouth.
Pim stared at him for a moment, and Charlie was vaguely aware of the fountain water rushing behind them and the breeze gently swaying the flowers around them.
“It’s okay,” Pim decided, “I know I was getting worked up about everything and it probably wasn’t very fun for you.”
Charlie frowned at that. Pim wasn’t wrong and Charlie hated that — hated that he had made it so obvious and that Pim was struggling by himself; that Pim was getting beaten down by everyone around him and he was one of the people doing the beating.
“No, man,” Charlie blurted, “it’s not okay. I said I was gonna be there for you today and— well,” Charlie glanced down at his disheveled suit, “I mean, just look at me.”
Pim seemed surprised by his outburst, but a small smile overcame his sadder features. “Don’t worry about it, Charlie. You probably weren’t expect—”
“I am worried about it!” Charlie interrupted, unable to stop now that he had started, “You’re so— so fucking nice to me and I can’t take it and I act like an asshole.”
Pim blinked, startled. He stuttered, clearly unsure what to say, “Um, I-I don’t—”
Charlie wasn’t done, opening his mouth again before Pim could figure out what to say: “I don’t even know why, dude. You— you make me feel weird,” he admitted, chest aching. He scrubbed the side of his face with his hand, not sure why he was saying any of this.
He turned to Pim, who was staring up at him with wide eyes. The look further unsettled Charlie.
Pim seemed to mull over Charlie’s words for a moment, ultimately resigning himself to say, “Y-you’re… you’re drunk. I think we should go back to the hotel.”
Charlie sighed and scratched his neck anxiously. “Yeah,” he agreed, “probably.”
Pim stood up from the fountainside, gingerly grabbing his jacket as he did so. He gently reached out and put a hand on Charlie’s arm, urging him to stand as well.
Charlie swallowed at the touch, breath struggling its way out of his nose as he allowed the movement to propel him forward. Back on his feet, he swayed for a moment, Pim reaching for him as though he would catch Charlie if he fell.
“Are you okay?” Pim asked as Charlie found his footing.
“No,” Charlie confessed, feeling thoroughly defeated.
Pim frowned and Charlie needed him to stop making that damn face.
“Knock it off, Pim,” he practically pleaded.
Bewilderment crossed Pim’s face. “W-what?”
“I can’t— stop looking at me like that, man, it kills me.”
Charlie’s throat was closing up as he kept saying things he definitely shouldn’t be saying. There was no reason for him to tell Pim about his feelings; especially not when Pim was already so distraught about Amy. This was selfish.
“I-I don’t know what you mean, Charlie,” Pim replied, clearly unsure what to make of Charlie’s conniptioning. He was peering up at Charlie with his eyebrows drawn together in confusion, a hand still on Charlie’s arm from helping him up, shirt rumpled and open at the collar just enough for a few chest hairs to show, and his mouth was curved down and — and now that Charlie was looking at his mouth, it was all he could think about.
Charlie wasn’t really sure what he was doing or why he was doing it, and he certainly wasn’t going to sit and think about why later — and if he did, he would say simply that he was drunk — but he decided then was the right time to grab Pim’s shoulder and tug him forward and kiss him.
He could feel his head go completely blank and dizzy as their mouths met, barely catching Pim’s gasp over the blood roaring in his ears. Pim was rigid against him, the hand on Charlie’s arm gripping in shock. Then — to Charlie’s elation and complete surprise — Pim softened and reciprocated, soft and warm.
Charlie could feel his own breath hitch, now clinging onto Pim’s shirt and trying to bring him impossibly closer, growing greedy as the other man became the only thing his senses could process. He parted his lips for more, desperate and forgetful of the whiskey still flavoring his tongue.
Pim jerked back, exhaling shakily, fingers still curled in Charlie’s sleeves. Charlie let out a surprised sound, blinking his eyes open to be struck by the sight of Pim flushed and gaping at him.
“You’re drunk, you’re v-very drunk,” Pim babbled, “you’re very, very drunk.”
Charlie wasn’t sure which one of them Pim was reminding, but the perplexed look on Pim’s face was enough to let the guilt wash over him.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, “dunno why I did that.”
“Uh-huh,” Pim nodded, rather flustered as he continued, “l-let’s just go back to the hotel, come on.”
Pim grabbed his hand then, leading him out of the garden through a gate in the back. Charlie stumbled along, startled by the sudden movement and horribly uncoordinated.
Pim tugged him all the way back to their hotel room, practically slamming the door behind them while Charlie meandered over to the bed and sat down, now dreadfully close to sickness after so much bustling and poor decision-making. Feeling rather ill and horribly warm, he shucked his suit jacket off and onto the bed.
“D-do you want some water? Or, um, do you need to sleep?” Pim asked anxiously, still red in the face and struggling to meet Charlie’s eyes.
Charlie barely processed the question, feeling his jaw begin to tighten and his mouth water. “Think I’m gonna throw up,” he garbled, and then promptly did so all over his own lap, grimacing afterward.
Lightly panting, Charlie looked up from the puke on his legs and at Pim, who seemed rather mortified.
“Oh gosh.”
“Sorry,” Charlie mumbled.
“Okay, um— let’s get you cleaned up. Uh,” he struggled for a moment, wincing as he looked at Charlie’s ruined slacks, then said decisively, “take off your pants.”
Charlie, who was still in his own world, was shocked to hear those words coming from Pim. ”What?”
Pim flushed, “Charlie, you know what I mean! Y-you’re covered in, in puke!”
Charlie looked down at his lap again, frowning as he saw that Pim was right. “Fuck,” he huffed, beginning to unbuckle his belt without a second thought.
“Oh goodness,” Pim muttered, averting his gaze.
Charlie crawled out of his pants, trying his best to keep them flat and the vomit from spilling off of them. Pim carefully approached, cringing as he rolled up Charlie’s pants, desperately attempting to encase its contents.
Now standing on the other side of the bed in just his shirt and underwear, Charlie scratched his stomach and smacked his lips, grimacing at the taste in his mouth.
“You should go shower,” Pim encouraged, looking unsure of what to do with his armful of Charlie’s pants.
Charlie barely processed the suggestion, nodded, and strolled past a struggling Pim and into the bathroom.
He sluggishly stripped off his remaining clothes and carefully stepped over the lip of the bathtub, starting the shower and hissing at the cold water that sprayed him. He quickly twisted the knob, frowning as it barely warmed up.
At the very least, between having puked and the shower’s frigid temperature, Charlie’s head had cleared up enough for him to focus on washing himself. He wrapped up quickly as the water lost what little heat it had, almost tripping in his efforts to get out. He realized only afterward that he forgot to put down a towel as a floor mat, effectively drenching the floor. He shrugged and reached for the towel he had used last night, lazily drying off.
Now dry, he looked around for his clothes and realized that he had failed to bring any in with him. He stood there for a long moment, unsure what to do.
“Charlie? Are you okay in there?”
He jumped, surprised to hear Pim’s voice sound through the door.
“Forgot my clothes,” he slurred back, then frowned at himself as he registered the fact that he still couldn’t enunciate.
No response came. An odd flash of worry ran through him, and still rather indifferent to his state, Charlie decided to open the bathroom door.
Pim was standing there, looking rather disheveled. At Charlie whipping the door open, he startled, eyes wide and face flushing as he rushed to look away.
“Charlie!” he shouted, “y-you’re naked!”
“Forgot my clothes,” Charlie repeated.
“I-I heard you the first time,” Pim replied, hands covering his face.
“Gonna get ‘em,” he decided, walking past Pim, who made an alarmed sound when Charlie brushed past him so casually.
Rifling through his suitcase, Charlie caught Pim saying something about the shower still running. He hummed in acknowledgement despite not processing the words, fishing out a pair of boxers and slipping them on, grabbing the corner of the dresser for balance when he nearly fell.
“Charlie— oh gosh.”
Pim, who had just come out of the bathroom, flustered further, struggling to maintain eye contact as he continued, “Y-you got water all over the floor.”
Charlie blinked at him, “Oh.”
Pim rubbed his neck awkwardly, then asked, “Did you brush your teeth?”
“Oh,” Charlie repeated, “no.”
Pim made a face. “Let’s fix that,” he sighed, gesturing for Charlie to come back to the bathroom. Charlie trudged across the floor, huffing tiredly as he joined Pim in the bathroom.
“Floor’s wet,” he acknowledged as he walked in.
While Charlie brushed his teeth, Pim mopped the floor with a clean towel. When Charlie finished, he slunk out of the bathroom, deaf to Pim’s plea to shut off the sink faucet.
Deciding he was rather tired now, Charlie climbed into bed, lying flat on his back and curling the comforter over himself. Pim emerged shortly afterward from the bathroom, posture slouched and shirt half-tucked in his dress pants, which were now wet at the knees.
Charlie, tongue loose, said, “Y’look good.”
“Very funny,” Pim mumbled as he retrieved a new outfit from his suitcase. Neatly folded clothes tucked under his arm, he asked softly, “Do you need anything before I shower?”
Charlie shook his head, regretting the motion as his vision spun. Pim nodded and retreated to the bathroom, leaving Charlie by himself in bed. Drowsy and tuckered out, Charlie fell asleep rather easily, though he wondered why there was still sunlight coming in from the window as he did so.
When he woke up hours later, head aching dully and initially unsure of when he had even drank, Charlie would sit up slowly, trying desperately to adjust his focus and take in his surroundings.
Hotel, he would recall, Amy’s wedding… which was earlier. Shit. Way earlier.
He had drunk himself stupid after getting high. Of course.
He glanced around, surprised to find himself in just his underwear. Beside him, Pim was dressed in a sweatshirt and shorts, fast asleep with his phone on his stomach. The television was on and so was Pim’s bedside lamp. There was a pizza box at the end of the bed. It was dark outside, save for the sliver of moonlight creeping in.
Charlie rubbed his eyes, reaching for his phone from his nightstand. As he did so, he saw a glass of water and two ibuprofen. He glanced at Pim, huffing softly in his sleep, and tried not to mull over the way his heart reacted. After taking the medicine and draining the glass, Charlie grabbed his phone to check the time, sighing when he saw it was nearly ten.
He didn’t even remember falling asleep — come to think of it, he couldn’t remember a lot.
Charlie squinted into the dark of the hotel room, rewinding the day’s events in his head.
Pim woke him up. Charlie made coffee and didn’t drink it. They went to breakfast. They went to the wedding. Graham let Charlie hit his pen. Amy said ‘I do’... Charlie hid at the bar…
Think.
Pim found him. Then, some girls showed up and were being incredibly weird.
…Pim went with them… Charlie went to a garden…
When’d I go to a garden?
Okay, hold on.
Pim went with those girls. They were Amy’s bridesmaids. Right.
Then Pim was gone and they were back. Charlie texted him.
That’s right. Amy kicked Pim out when she found out he was there. He was in the garden, so Charlie joined him. Then—
Charlie felt his stomach drop. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.
He kissed Pim.
“Fuck,” he whispered, headache persisting at the knowledge, burying his face in his hands.
Then they went back to the hotel, right? And— Charlie showered, he remembered that; it was cold. And then he went to bed. And that was it.
He peered over at Pim between the fingers obscuring his vision, the smaller critter’s stomach moving slowly as he breathed, eyes closed and foot gently twitching in his sleep.
Charlie recalled him holding Charlie’s slacks. Then, Charlie recalled throwing up on them.
He frowned, shame ripping through him. He was such a jackass — Pim’s sister kicked him out of her wedding, and what did Charlie do? Got wasted, pushed himself onto him, and made him clean up his vomit.
“Fucking— what the fuck,” he muttered, shoving his face back into his palms. He was awful. He shouldn’t have come — not because he didn’t want to, but because he clearly just made things worse.
Pim stirred in his sleep then, and Charlie hushed his self-pitying, hoping that if he could let Pim have anything in the last twenty-four hours, it could at the very least be some rest. Thankfully, he was just rolling over.
Charlie wished he could leave, but he knew that would still be a dick move; Pim wouldn’t like that. Besides, that would leave Pim with no way to get back.
Charlie leaned back into the bedframe, rubbing his face. He didn’t think he could sleep after the revelations he’d just made; after realizing what he’d done.
He swallowed hard, the knot in his throat making it nearly impossible to do so. He had to face it: whatever this was, whatever was going on with him and the “weird” feelings he’d been having and tried so hard to pin on everything else — he knew what it was.
He was in love with Pim.
He was in love with Pim and he didn’t know how to handle it. He was actively fucking up their friendship and he had a horrible feeling that it was only going to get worse unless he got over it.
A part of him asked why he had to get over it — why it was out of possibility. Was it really that implausible?
I don’t even know if he’s gay, the other part of himself argued. I can’t be his awakening. That’s too much responsibility. Charlie had lived that already — he wouldn’t do it again.
You don’t know that he isn’t, the first part said. You could figure that out first.
No, no, no, Charlie grimaced, I shouldn’t even be thinking about Pim like this. It’s too weird. I’m not in love with him, he’s just nice to me and I’m an idiot.
Charlie shut down his train of thought, clambering out of bed almost frantically. He threw on his hoodie and a pair of shorts, slid on a pair of shoes, grabbed his wallet, hat, and phone off of the nightstand, and bolted for the door.
Of course, as he grabbed the handle — faintly, sleepily, he heard, “Charlie?”
He froze, slowly turning around. Pim was sitting up on his side, eyes barely open and looking incredibly soft.
“Just going for a walk, man,” Charlie said, heart in his throat.
Pim hummed tiredly, “Don’t forget your keycard.”
“Oh, shit,” Charlie mumbled, letting go of the door handle and walking back to his nightstand.
As he grabbed the key, Pim spoke up, still gazing at him through drowsy eyes, “Do you feel better?”
Charlie nodded, heart aching. Fuck, why is it so much worse now? “Yeah, man. Thanks for, uh, for taking care of me.”
Pim smiled and Charlie felt like he was going to be sick again.
“Of course, Charlie.”
“A-Alright, I’m gonna go now,” he said shakily, slipping the key into his pocket and hurrying away before Pim could do anything else to cause a physical reaction.
Practically breathless as he rushed to the elevator, Charlie stuffed his hands into his hoodie pockets and tried to think clearly.
Stop it, he pleaded with himself, don’t even think about him.
He needed a cigarette.
They left the hotel early on Sunday despite paying for another day. While Charlie was usually one to insist on getting his money’s worth, he wasn’t sure he could be alone with Pim for much longer.
While he didn’t want to talk about his feelings, Charlie did still feel guilty for how he had been over the weekend. So, halfway back home, when they were stopped at a gas station and Charlie was pumping gas, he decided it was the best time to apologize.
Pim, who had just been inside and was now eating a Charleston Chew, was startled when Charlie stopped him from getting back into the car.
“Uh, can I talk to you really quick?” Charlie asked, eyeballing the numbers rising on the pump instead of looking Pim in the eyes.
“Is something wrong?”
“No— well. I—” Charlie struggled, sighing and pushing on, ignoring the way his chest was aching, “I wanted to say sorry for being such a dick this weekend. You were having a hard time and I said I was gonna help and I, uh, I’m pretty sure I made it worse. So. Yeah. Sorry about that. I’ll make it up to you.”
He tore his eyes away from the pump to see Pim standing there awkwardly, looking a bit unsure what to say.
“Charlie—”
He interrupted, “And don’t say it’s okay. It wasn’t. I feel bad and I should, so don’t— don’t say that it wasn’t a big deal or anything.”
Pim blinked, expression still difficult to read. They both jumped a bit when the handle of the pump clicked, the tank full.
“Okay,” Pim said after a moment, watching Charlie screw his fuel cap back on. “Well, I forgive you, then.”
Charlie sighed, “No, dude—”
“You’re right,” Pim continued, “you were a bad friend this weekend. But I forgive you and— a-and about what happened in the garden—”
Charlie felt his heart drop and he practically slammed the fuel handle back into its place on the pump. “What garden?” he choked out.
Pim flushed. “Y-you don’t remember?”
“I don’t even know what you’re talking about, dude,” he continued, cringing as a voice in his head asked why the hell he couldn’t just be honest and let Pim say whatever he wanted to say.
“Oh,” Pim said, and — and he looked almost… disappointed?
Charlie couldn’t, and therefore didn’t, linger on that. “Well, thank you for forgiving me,” he continued on, “but I still feel bad. So let me make it up to you sometime or something. Um. Anyways, let’s, uh, go.”
Pim didn’t say much for the rest of the drive. Charlie didn’t ask and didn’t push, just bumped up the volume on the radio.
“Do you need any help with your stuff?” Charlie asked when they reached Pim’s apartment. He prayed the answer would be no — luckily for him, it was.
With his arms full and expression still painfully indecipherable, Pim stood outside of Charlie’s passenger door and said through the open window, “Thank you for coming.”
“Yeah. Uh. Sorry, again.”
“Charlie, I—” Pim began, but then seemed to decide against it, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Charlie’s stomach twisted painfully out of curiosity, but he just nodded.
“See you, man.”
He pulled away, glancing at the reflection of Pim in his rearview mirror, and feeling his heart pull painfully in his chest.
“Fuck,” he whispered, deeply unsettled as he felt his eyes water. He gripped the steering wheel and pushed it all down, swallowing over the emotion in his throat and willing his eyes to dry.
He wasn’t going to think about it.