A/N: Discussions of consent. Charlie and Bill talk about their relationship while Bill tries to win him back.

...

Charlie stepped outside his door, and closed it quietly.

"Reminds me of the old days, you and me. Sneaking around." Charlie rolls his eyes, with none of the affection that the gesture used to hold.

"Well?"

"Why are you sneaking around?"

"As if Matthew would approve of you and I alone."

"Why do you care about his approval?" Charlie sighs deeply. Bill twists up his mouth.

"Because I know that I don't approve of you and I alone." Bill wrung his hands in an uncharacteristically nervous gesture. Charlie is leaning on the door now, and he looks just like how he used to when he was young. Somehow. His slightly too good for a heroin addict posture. Those blue eyes, the defensive folded arms, he looked like how Bill remembered him.

When they'd dated, Charlie had never bothered with styling his hair, and had scabs and scars on his face, but now his face was almost clear, a few pits marking his cheeks but otherwise you wouldn't know. He'd gone to great lengths to disguise where he came from, and that Bill could understand.

"I want another chance." Charlie watched him from the doorframe, his eyes scanning, Bill could practically see his brain ticking around, trying to come up with what he should say next. Bill beats him too it. "Leave him, come with me."

"What?"

"Leave him. Leave Matthew. Leave this shitty apartment block. Leave your shitty job. Come with me." Nothing, so Bill continues his pitch. "Think about it, Charlie." Bill said, taking both of Charlie's hands into his own. "You work, every single day. You work two jobs. He hasn't worked in over a year. You're supporting dead weight. Come with me, I'll take care of you. I promise you that you will never have to work again in your life." Bill reached out and took Charlie's hands into his own. "Come with me, Charlie! Weren't we happy, together?" He questioned.

Charlie pulled his hands away, and kept looking into Bill's eyes, face impassive.

"Last time you said that to me, you were passing me a spoon and a lighter." He commented, and Bill takes note of his clothing. Charlie is wearing a well worn coat over a hooded jumper. He can't make eyecontact, because he feels ashamed.

"I love you."
"You love the idea of me." Charlie said, softly, and Bill knows. "I love Matthew, Bill. I've loved him for the last five years, and I intend to keep loving him until I can't love anymore. You don't need another chance, Bill. I'm not upset about the cheating anymore." Charlie said, not moving.

"Do you love him? Or so you love that he let you into his house. You don't owe him anything, Charlie!"

"Don't yell. My neighours don't like us enough as it is." Charlie said, rubbing his face with his hand and then folded them. "When I spent my first week here, I kept expecting him to take me to bed. I kept working myself up to the fact that he was going to take something from me, and I kept thinking I was going to let him. But he didn't." Charlie's lip turned up, slightly. "And I asked him if he wanted to go out because I thought that's what he wanted." He's still leaning, sharing his story. A story Bill suspects he's the first and the last to hear. "He did, but he didn't anything from me. He didn't kiss my neck, or insist I owed him anything. He thanked me for the evening, and asked if I wanted something to drink before bed." Pause, consideration. "The first time I went out with you, you took me to bed, and I was so sore the next morning I thought you had hurt me forever."

The pause is so thick it could have been cut with a knife.
"When I asked Matthew if he wanted to date me, if he wanted to be mutually exclusive with him, he asked me if that was what I wanted. I said it was. He told me I didn't owe him anything, I told him I know. He kissed me for the first time and I swear on my life, before that moment, I might as well never have been kissed, it was that soft, and that gentle. The first time you kissed me I was so high that I didn't even kiss back, and you bit my lip until I was bleeding. I only knew because you told me after." Charlie is looking down at the carpet now, telling Bill his thoughts.

"I asked him if he would have sex with me. He told me not if I didn't want to. I told him I might never want to. He told me told me that was fine. He didn't care about that. He just wanted to be with me. And you know what? He never has. He's never so much as kissed me without making sure it was okay first. It's been five years now, and I was sure, I was positive that he was going to insist, and he never has. I asked him why, when every other relationship I've ever had has revolved around my body, making a profit from it, taking enjoyment in it, giving me things to put into it, why he has never done anything like that." Bill actually feels sick now. "He told me something that no one ever told me before. He told me that my body belonged to me. He told me that no one had the right to touch it but me. It dawned on me, then, that Matthew gave me something no one else ever had. He gave me the right to own my own body, to connect to that part of me, that part I shut off. That part I was scared off." He looked over to Bill, those eyes deep as an ocean, and just as sad. "And you know, maybe one I will have sex with him. Maybe one day I'll be ready to open that part of myself. But you know what? Maybe I won't. And He'll be okay with that." Bill waited, Charlie looked like he was figuring out how to phrase something.

"For all the times I can remember getting into your bed, there is a time where I don't remember even saying that I wanted to." He told Bill, deadpan. "I was high, and you took advantage of that." Bill frowned deeply.

"What if he never works again."
"I told you, Bill. I don't care about the money. I would live in a box under a bridge with him."

"You're always so busy with work.'

"I know. Bill, I know this is hard for you to understand, but I like to work. I've always liked to work. I like my job, obviously it's not the job I want but I don't mind. I like to support Matthew. I like looking after him." Bill looks at him, eyes still wet.

"I love you."
"You love a submissive drug addict who would have done anything to feed his addiction. I'm not him anymore. I'm clean, and you know what, Bill? For the first time in my rotten fucking life, I have something good. I love him, Bill. I don't know much about love, or healthy relationships, but I know that I give a shit about him. I care about you." He said, and leaned in, pressing a kiss to Bill's cheek. "You were my first love, and I know you will have a special place in my heart forever, but we can't ever be how we were." He gave Bill a tiny, hesitant smile, before re-entering his apartment, leaving Bill in the hallway, tears on his cheeks.