I can't keep my feelings in disguise [kate]

new years 2002

Charlie’s fingertips were tracing patterns across Kate’s bare shoulders, his brown eyes gazing happily into hers, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Here, with her in his arms, he was the most content he’d been in weeks – perhaps months. It was hard to imagine the turmoil their relationship had been in just a few short weeks ago.

A part of him wondered if Kate had taken this house to be an attempt to buy back her favour. That wasn’t his intention. It didn’t hurt if it helped his case, of course, but that wasn’t why he’d spent the last few weeks getting Fran to house hunt for them. In and of itself, communicating with Fran should show Kate how much Charlie loved her. He didn’t hate his girlfriend's sister, but they butted heads something awful. She was just such an insufferable know-it-all. Charlie didn’t like being criticised at the best of times, let alone with the preciseness that Fran could pinpoint the chinks in his armour.

But he didn’t need armour now. Not here.

The day after Boxing Day, when all the festivities had finally started to die down, Charlie had suggested to Kate they go stay in a hotel for a few days. He’d had enough of her family and their lack of privacy. He couldn’t stand being around Fran any more. Screaming children were driving him crazy. All things that she could find easily believable (because in truth, he hadn’t been lying about any of it). A little deflated, she’d agreed to please him. He’d been worried the plan would fail if she’d stood her ground and demanded to stay, much like she’d stood up to her father on their arrival, but thankfully Kate had been predictably willing to appease her boyfriend, who was so far out of his comfort zone.

But they hadn’t gone to a hotel. Charlie had brought her here. At first Kate had assumed it was some sort of rental, a home you could hire out for a week or something like that. They hadn’t explicitly said they’d stay in California for the New Year, but it had been hinted at. When he’d told her it was theirs, that he’d bought it for them, her reaction had been better than anything he could have predicted. They wouldn’t be moving here permanently, but he’d wanted Kate to feel like he was committed to this relationship, and he also wanted them to visit her family more often – but to be able to do so without needing to impose, or hide. He was used to having Kate all to himself, and that didn’t work in her family home. This way they could visit, but they could also retreat to their own space.

They’d spent the last four days getting acquainted with the place, in various states of sobriety. Tonight was no different. They’d ventured out briefly for an early dinner, but come straight home (it was home, wasn’t it?) and started celebrating the impending New Year. Charlie wasn’t sure what time it was. There was no clock in this room. Not yet, anyway. Had they missed the countdown? Was it still two thousand and one, or could they leave that year and all the bad things that had happened in it behind them?

Charlie shifted slightly, pushing some hair out of her face and tucking it behind her ear clumsily. They’d had a fair amount of tequila this evening (him more than her), and Charlie was feeling it. “I love you too.” he replied as she gushed at him, once more, about how wonderful the villa was. He offered her a lopsided grin. “I just want you to be happy, always.”

They were naked and lying on the couch together, hair a mess with strands floating about, bottles of tequila and various mixers strewn about on their coffee table. It was quite blissful, really. Their home was still relatively bare in terms of where Kate wanted to go with it and with the furnishings, but she wasn't eager to get going on that. They'd had the bare necessities moved in and had full access to their pool and their hot tub, both of which she'd been taking advantage of. Bathing-suit-less, in accordance to her boyfriend's obvious preferences. The christening of their new space in one of her favorite locations in the entire world had seemed much more appealing and important than anything else, so in the last few days, they'd gone out once or twice and had spent the rest of the time getting to know their new home -- and each other, if it were possible -- on an even deeper level.

Countering her boyfriend's soft smile, a slightly wider grin seemed to be permanently etched into her feminine features. She couldn't remember when it had gotten there and thought maybe that it might've been hours ago, and she was becoming convinced of the notion it might never leave. And she was one hundred percent fine with that. Kate was almost positive she'd never been happier in her life, and she was almost equally positive that the large amount (for her) of alcohol she'd consumed this evening only had a small bit to do with that.

Kate zoned deeply into the color of his eyes and stroked at his hair with a light touch, enjoying the way the strands felt underneath her little hands. It was beyond her how somebody could love her enough to want to buy her an entire house. A villa, even. A villa worth... more than she could comfortably fathom. She'd been afraid to ask her boyfriend how much he'd spent on it, and she didn't really want to, either. Kate didn't want to feel like it had been a transactional thing and was much more endeared to the idea that it had been a gesture of love and kindness. Her boyfriend loved hard and was an endless tap of kindness for her, she thought. He was more than wonderful.

"I still can't believe you did this," Kate told him in a quiet voice, working hard to enunciate her words, "It's so perfect. It's a dream. More than anything that I could have ever expected or wanted." A dreamy sigh fluttered away from her smiling mouth. She paused for a second and searched his eyes once more, trying to decide whether or not she should press on. It seemed safe. "I love you."

Her grin only widened when he returned her sentiments and then some. She wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. Have these homes and more. Live their lives together. Lose and gain. All of the above, she wanted it with him, and she wanted him to know. Her loose lips were making things even easier to say than normal, of course, and this spurred her on and encouraged her ideas. "I am happy," Kate told him seriously. "I think it might be past midnight now, so I'm ... going to say this," She cleared her throat as if to prepare for an important speech. And it was, in her mind. She thought it was something he really needed to hear. "I... am happier than I've ever been. Because of you. And I want to spend... all the rest of the new year's eves with you." One hand continued idly stroking at his hair, and the other searched around for his fingers. "That's what will make me happy always. Forever."

Charlie listened to Kate attentively, blinking hard to focus on her through the effects of the tequila. In his current state it was difficult to concentrate on anything but her, and how she felt draped over him. Her skin was soft and cool against his. Tangled up like this on the couch reminded him of when she’d first moved in; the first few days they’d been alone, together. Not sneaking around backstage. Or trying to be in the same room at the same time without her sister following them. Or hiding from her school friends in alleyways.

When Kate had come to live with him Charlie hadn’t really known that that was his intention. Like almost everything he did it had been spontaneous. When they’d been writing and organising her move across the Atlantic Kate had been under the impression that Charlie would find her some place to stay – and well, he hadn’t. He’d procrastinated something awful until the last minute and then brilliance had struck: she could just live with him. It had been a bit of a shock for Kate, to have that thrust upon her. Charlie had mistaken her surprise for hesitation, and then doubled back and suggested the spare room until she found somewhere more suitable. That had lasted all of a few hours, and from then they’d been inseparable. Well, until before Christmas. But that didn’t matter now. All that mattered was being here, in the present.

“Really?” He smiled first, then as her words sunk in his face became serious; a small frown creased his features as his fingers found hers and slipped between them, squeezing gently. He had meant it; he wanted nothing more than for Kate to be content – he knew that now, after all the pain and hurt he’d caused her, that her happiness was the thing he cared about most.

Charlie didn’t say anything for a moment. He was thinking and the copious amounts of tequila meant he had to do one thing at a time. Speak or think. A scramble of thoughts were vying for his attention. He was trying to simultaneously think about both the future and right now. Charlie wasn’t the type to muse about what was yet to come, not any further than a few minutes ahead at a time generally. He didn’t like to worry about what might be, he preferred to live in the now. It was more exciting, and you didn’t spin yourself into a dark hole with all of the ‘what if’s?’. So although Kate was talking about forever, he didn’t really know what that meant. Or, he didn’t think he did. Did he?

He loved Kate. He loved the way her brown eyes crinkled at the corners when she smiled. He loved the freckles on her nose. The sounds she made when she was half asleep. And a million other things. He hated the way he’d hurt her, and he wanted nothing more than to wipe that from their memories. His alcohol-added brain decided that there was one way to make her happier than she already was, to make her happy forever and forget about what he’d done to jeopardise their happiness. He didn’t even consider anything else – it was the only option, obviously. “If that’s what you want then... we will.” His words almost slurred; they were cosy and the booze was making him sleepy, but he just wanted Kate to know. “We should do it.”

Her cheeks were starting to hurt. She could feel dull aching at the corners of her mouth, which realistically meant that she'd just... been smiling too much. Nice problem to have, considering the hellacious few weeks they'd endured preceding Christmas. He smiled back at her and his face kind of fell after that, which was worrisome, but she figured that she could safely assume it was because he was digesting the information and attempting to decide what he should say next. Kate understood that. Dropping the "f" bomb, and not in the context of cursing, was a big deal in a relationship. Maybe the next one after the "l" word, and they were barreling down milestone hill at a pretty fast pace, considering they'd only started saying I love you aloud three months ago.

Kate was drunk, and she didn't have time to consider the implication of Charlie's words (that if it was what she wanted, they would do it, and that it might not necessarily be what he wanted, but that he wanted to make her happy regardless and was willing to endure it for the sake of that) other than that he'd said them. She was pretty sure that was what it meant, anyway. Her grin had vanished from her face, and the light in her brown eyes had changed color to something a little less... bubbly and pink, and a little more serious. Mauve. Or blue. She felt even happier than she had just a moment ago, but it was a different sort. The kind that settled on your shoulders like a nice heavy blanket. It was less in-your-face than post-sex euphoria cuddles on the couch. With tequila. That had certainly added an interesting aspect to their conversation.

"You..." She began shakily, her voice coming across a little more timid than she'd intended, "Do you... mean." Kate cleared her throat nervously. She almost felt as though saying anything out loud would jinx it. Or cheapen it, or somehow the same thing coming out of her mouth might scare him out of it and then she'd really be a mess. The brunette was suddenly slightly more aware of how intoxicated he was, but he was speaking clearly enough for her to understand. "Do you think we should...?" Kate frowned a little as she struggled to fully understand, and she gripped his hand tighter, searching for some nonverbal validation that she wasn't off the rails.

Charlie could tell instantly that he'd said the right thing. The grin on Kate's face softened into a warmer expression. It was different to all the other smiles she'd given him. It wasn't even really a smile, was it? But he could see in her eyes that she was happy. That he'd made her happy. That was all he wanted. If he could never hurt her again, never cause her any more pain--

Charlie was struggling to keep his eyes open, but he did his best to meet her gaze. Did she not hear him right? Did he even say it aloud? Explicitly? He couldn’t remember, already. "That we should get married?" he said slowly, his tongue almost stumbling over the words and that strange little smile still playing across his lips. He mulled it over, for once not doubting her need for clarification or, worse, taking it as a subtle rebuff. His free hand continued tracing shapes over her skin as his own brow furrowed in response. There wasn't really any reason not to, was there? If it would fix everything, it seemed the perfect solution. She would be his. He'd never lose her. They were going to be together anyway, what difference did it make, really? Besides, it didn’t have to happen right now. He was just promising that it would happen. That was all she needed – to know that he wasn’t going to leave her for someone else. That he’d always come back to her.

He squeezed back, vaguely aware of her intensified grip on him – as if he might try to escape. The musician nestled down on the couch to get more comfortable and pulled Kate closer to drape further over him. Charlie’s chest rose and fell with the effort of breathing whilst she lay half on top of him. They should go to bed, but it was so comfortable here. "Mhm." he eventually replied, exhaling deeply and his eyes finally closing. "We should." he murmured, already half-asleep.

--

His head was throbbing. He needed water. And food— where was he?

Charlie’s brown eyes opened blearily and he stretched his jaw a few times, moving his tongue around in his mouth with some effort to try and get some moisture back. Relief washed over him when he realised the petite form beside him was Kate. For a moment he’d thought—he hadn’t recognised the surroundings and usually that meant he was somewhere unfamiliar. In the bad way. But then it came back to him: this was their new home. Well, additional home.

He lifted his head to try and see if Kate was already awake (as was usually the case) but regretted it immediately. Charlie let out a low groan as his head pounded, resting it delicately back on the cushion. “Fuck.” He swore quietly, eyes scrunched up against the bright light filtering through the curtainless windows as he brought one arm up to shield his face, in doing so dislodging their blanket slightly. He felt movement next to him and shifted a little in response, "Sorry." he mumbled through his arm.

Her eyebrows raised enough that the headache she was developing, beating dully behind her eyeballs, shot straight to the front of her face. She immediately frowned and shoved them back down and that resulted in quite the caricature of an expression change, but she didn't notice. Kate was much too fixated on the reality of the matter: that he'd said they should get married. He was proposing to her. She swallowed and shifted up a little in his lap, hissing apologetically when her elbow rammed too hard into his arm in her readjustment. "Sorry, I --" was just excited. Just surprised. Just... all of the above. Kate turned her body as much as she could without disturbing him or disentangling their limbs and looked at him directly in the eye. If she hadn't felt it, she could tell from the small glow the floor lamp was putting out and glaring in his deep brown eyes that her own were shining.

"I -- yeah. We should," She was nodding enthusiastically, having forgotten in her abrupt onset of euphoria that there were going to be repercussions to agreeing to such a thing. She had also forgotten that maybe his drunkenness, and the way he was slurring just a little, might've been a contributing factor to his loose tongue. Usually ever the worrywart, all of that hadn't interfered with Kate's answer. Of course she wanted to marry him. He had to know that if she'd stayed, especially after the things with Layla had happened, she was serious. That she wanted, more than anything else, to build a life with him and try to put the bad things behind them. The new year seemed a pretty timeless symbolic way to begin again.

Kate was tired too, and her headache was beginning to throb like an ice pick poking at her right eye every time her heart beat in her chest, so she was not offended in the slightest when her boyfriend's.... fiance's, now? eyes drooped and fell shut. Despite the painful side effects the alcohol had so graciously addled her with, Kate curled her head against Charlie's and closed her eyes, drifting off into the early morning of January 1st with a content smile curving her mouth.

--

She'd been sleeping soundly and unusually late into the morning until she'd felt Charlie stir next to her. Frowning, she opened her eyes and exclaimed when the light assaulted them open-fire. Her small hands flew up to cover and rub roughly at them, but Kate was disappointed to learn that wasn't going to help after a few tries. "Ugh," She muttered under her breath, wrinkling her nose at the smell of her breath. Absolutely disgusting. Smelled like the alley behind a bar in there. Too fast, she sat up and leaned her elbows on her thighs, attempting to find the motivation somewhere inside herself (somewhere being the operative word, she had no idea where) to get off the couch and brush her teeth.

"Gonna go brush my teeth and put some clothes on, be right back." She stood up with a pop and wrapped her arms around herself, shivering hard as she waltzed into their brand new master suite. "Shit, it's cold in here." Kate muttered to herself, teeth dramatically chattering, and threw on a baggy sweatshirt with a pair of stretchy black pants. They'd left the door to their patio open just a crack overnight and some ocean air, blown in from the beach, had filtered in and was settling into the rooms in their house, particularly their bedroom. She plodded, very much disheartened about the damp morning temperature, into the bathroom to pee and then to her sink to wash her hands and brush her teeth. Her muscles hurt, even with small movements like that. Too much lactic acid buildup or whatever it was, and she needed a tall glass of water. She lost herself in her thoughts while she scrubbed at her teeth in little circles and by the time she remembered to rinse her mouth, she knew it had most definitely been longer than two minutes.

Tipping toward the large mirror situated above the counter, Kate braced her hands on the vanity and recounted the events from the night previous. It had arguably been... one of the best nights of her life. She remembered it all. In her returned sobriety, however, she understood it was a distinct possibility that Charlie would not remember as vividly. Or at all. She was usually the one far more drunk than he, but last night had been an exception to that, what with his starry eyes and slurred sentences. He wasn't normally so candid with his thoughts and feelings. It made her wonder if he meant them at all, if it was so... out of character for him to be expressive like that. Kate squeezed her eyes shut with a small distressed noise and hoped with every ounce of might she possessed that their attempt to start new would not bowl them over back down the same hill they'd just climbed up.

She knew Charlie would start worrying if she was gone more than a few minutes, so on her way back to the main living space, she closed the sliding door to their patio shut and rubbed her arms, which were warming up thanks to the amount of fabric she was wearing on her body now. "Do you want some water?" She asked him almost timidly without looking at him. She padded with lighter feet into the kitchen to retrieve two glasses for them, and sat back down gingerly on the edge of the couch, tentatively looking down at his reclined form. "Here," Kate urged him gently, encouraging him with her cold hand to sit up and drink it.

Charlie felt Kate move, so if she hadn’t been awake before she was now. He twisted his torso slightly, about to wrap his arms around her— when she sat up. He turned the motion into a general readjustment, frowning as he brought one hand up to rub at his neck. It wasn’t an overly large settee, and even with the two of them curled up together Charlie’s feet had still been hanging off one end whilst his head was butted up against the armrest at the other. It had obviously been a comfortable enough position for them to fall asleep in last night, but he wouldn't be making a habit of it when there was a perfectly good bed in their bedroom.

“Mhm.” He replied with a soft nod to her announcement, once again regretting the movement of his head. Charlie made a little noise of discomfort as he frowned again. God, he really shouldn’t drink so much. Or at least, he should make an effort to have some water before going to sleep — he had the feeling that he rarely had the best motor functions, or mental capacity, before he drifted off to do so, however.

Once Kate had clambered off him Charlie sat up slowly, delicately. With effort, he pulled his feet back towards him and sat, setting them down on the floor and pulling the blanket over his lap. The brunette hunched over, head in his hands and elbows resting on his knees. With his eyes closed, he briefly considered going to the bedroom and trying to go back to sleep, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to. Not with a headache like this.

Kate reappeared after a few moments. He could only tell by the sound of her soft footfalls on the bare wooden floor. His eyes were still shut firmly against the bright sunlight, his head still tilted down to reduce the glare trying to sear through his eyelids. The light airiness of the living spaces had been a plus to this home, but right now he would happily have blackout curtains lining every window. Charlie leant back against the cushions, his head lolling slightly with his eyes still closed. “Mm,” he grumbled in answer to her query – in hungover Charlie-speak that was a ‘yes’.

Less than a minute later Kate was sitting beside him, her cool hand touching on his arm. He forced himself to sit upright and open his eyes, taking the glass from her and drinking it down in a few large gulps. One thing partially taken care of, Charlie looked at Kate. She seemed slow and quiet too. She was probably hungover as well – they’d clearly drunk a lot. Possibly more than they’d ever drank together before. Charlie could remember dinner, then coming home and opening a fresh bottle of tequila. It had started with margaritas, but he was pretty sure they’d started having shots at some point (both with and without the use of glasses). Sex. More shots. More sex. And then maybe some more shots? It all blurred into one, so he couldn’t really be sure.

“Thanks,” he mumbled quietly, leaning to peck her cheek before standing gingerly, letting the blanket fall unabashedly. Without an explanation he slunk off to their ensuite, as would be standard routine back home. Charlie splashed some water on his face, brushed his teeth, and found some painkillers in his washbag to help with the headache. If he thought he felt like shit, he looked worse. With a little difficulty (Kate had ‘unpacked’ their clothes in her excitement that it was their house) he found some clean boxers, a plain white t-shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants.

By the time he made it back into the living area Kate was in the kitchen, setting about making some food. He hadn’t thought he could really eat that much before, but the smell of a cooked breakfast (albeit with a Mexican-American twist) made his stomach grumble quietly. Charlie walked up behind Kate, wrapping his arms around her and nuzzling into her neck affectionately. “Happy New Year.” He kissed her cheek, then released her and moved to the fridge. He pulled out a carton of orange juice, then opened a few cupboards before finding the one with the glasses in. He retrieved two and placed them on the bench, pausing to look at Kate briefly. “Last night—” he started, turning his attention to start pouring, “—was the best New Years Eve I've ever had.” he grinned.

Kate watched him retreat to their bedroom and held in an apprehensive breath. He hadn't said anything to her. There was still a possibility that they were on the same page, but it seemed to be shrinking away into the distance and she felt ridiculous levels of anxiety spiking her blood and making her heart pump more loudly in her eardrums. Maybe part of that was the hangover, but Kate was positive that some of it was her impending nervous breakdown. Maybe that was being a little dramatic, but she wasn't quite sure how she would ever recover from the embarrassment and humiliation of being proposed to and then listening to Charlie retract it. And wondering what that meant about them, and how he felt, and what she should do. The thoughts were all racing around her brain at a janky pace, kind of like her rationale and her emotions were trying to perform a three-legged race and were failing because of the residual mild alcohol poisoning. That was what a hangover really was, wasn't it? Mild alcohol poisoning. And people still drank?

That didn't matter, anyway. If her predictions -- or, really, suspicions, they might be unfounded after all, were right -- the most painful side effect of this was not going to be her headache. Or the muscle pain. It would be the utter rejection she was going to have to endure due to some drunken suggestion he'd made while he'd been out of his mind.

Kate let the pressure in her lungs go, finally, and she stood for the second time that morning to saunter woefully into the kitchen. She clattered around a little while she set out the pots, pans, things from the fridge, and spices she needed to make eggs for breakfast. And maybe something else, but the eggs would be fine for now. With some spinach, red peppers, sausage, and cheese, they'd be tasty and heavy enough to satisfy their cravings without condemning them to sluggishness for the rest of the day.

"Happy New Year," Kate answered him with a smile, focusing on her task, which was perhaps too aggressively beating the eggs and the other cut up medley of things around the pan. She wasn't a very good liar, and she was aware that her boyfriend -- whatever he was now -- was not an ignorant person to her usual behaviors, and that he would pick up on the fabricated cheer she'd tried to filter into her voice. She almost wished she'd only smiled and not said anything at all, but that would have been equally unlike her and so it was inevitable that he was going to pick up on it. That something was wrong. Then she'd have to go into a whole spiel about how she remembered the events from the night before and that she was a little bit sure, at least, that he didn't, and of course if he didn't remember she didn't want that to be the real thing. Kate was doubtful that Charlie would want to consider it a real proposal if he didn't recall actually doing it, but it had felt... so real to her. Her breath stalled in her chest again and the brunette winced, exhaling the caught air slowly.

Charlie was pouring the orange juice, which she appreciated, though a small gesture -- she noticed those things -- but then he said something that really caught her off guard. He was... decidedly beaming. Kate's expression went slack and she set her spatula down with a muted clang, turning the burner off now that the eggs were cooked and ready to eat. "You can go ahead and get your plate," She told him, her tone fluctuating in a disjointed sort of way. He'd given her a little glimmer of hope, if slightly misplaced, with that remark and she was going to have to get to the bottom of it. Promptly. She couldn't stand this anymore.

"What, um..." Kate blurted, the first word sounding sharper than the filler she vocalized after it, "What exactly do you remember? From last night?" She asked quietly, only just loud enough that he could hear her, and leaned back against the counter with her hands tightly curled around the granite. If her knuckles were turning white, she didn't notice.

In his current state of mild disrepair Charlie had missed Kate’s melancholy mood at first, but as he took a sip from his glass his brow furrowed – and not just from the mix of cold juice on freshly brushed teeth. Obediently, he approached her (and the food), picking up an empty plate as he came around the counter to the same side as her. Something was off. He wasn’t sure what, yet, but there was definitely something amiss. Maybe... maybe she just wasn't feeling well. They had had a lot to drink. Hopefully, that was all. Surely.

Charlie had barely started shovelling some of the eggs onto his plate when Kate spoke again – or started to, anyway.

He set the plate down on the bench gently, letting go of the spatula with a soft clang as he listened to her. Slowly, the brunette turned to look at his girlfriend. “What?” He frowned as the realisation dawned. The fact that she’d asked him that question heavily suggested, no, almost guaranteed, that there was something he didn’t recall from last night. Fuck. Charlie was meeting her gaze warily, staring into those warm brown eyes, trying furiously to remember saying or doing something that might’ve upset her – because he surely couldn’t have done anything good if she was acting this way.

Part of the Slytherin wanted to outright ask her what he’d done, but he was terrified of the answer. Everything had been going so well – they were back where they’d been before all of the mess, if not in an even better place. What could he have done to ruin that? He couldn’t have gone and—no, there was no way. They wouldn’t have woken up entangled if that had happened. She’d be nowhere near him, let alone cooking him eggs for breakfast. Plus, they'd been together the whole night – he was absolutely sure of that.

“I—“ he started, turning his body properly to face her. Maybe he should just... go through the night, maybe something would pop into his head that was just lurking out of reach of his immediate memory. Charlie wet his lips slowly, “I remember going out for dinner,” he paused, wondering if he might have said something inappropriate to a waitress – but he'd been relatively sober at dinner, “then coming back here and... drinking. Having sex.” He brought one hand up to rub at the back of his neck absently, unsure how much detail she was expecting from him. “... Why?”

Kate could see the wheels turning and wrong puzzle pieces trying desperately to slot together as his big eyes searched her own. The longer he waited to respond to her, the more her face fell into a disappointed expression -- and she wasn't necessarily disappointed in him, really, just... upset that he'd been so far gone he'd been saying things he didn't mean. Kate wondered again for about the tenth time that morning how many times that happened while Charlie was drunk, and wondered how credible she could consider any of those sentiments. Any of those I love yous. She wondered if he'd even have fallen in love with her if they hadn't been drinking the first night they'd really met again -- not as friends. Would she have been interesting enough or pretty enough or just generally enough if they'd been stone-cold sober for him to leave a note in her bedroom telling her to write him? All the things she was doubting because of this turned her stomach.

She let him verbally process aloud and nodded lightly, twice, at the end of his narration of their night. "Yeah," Kate began unsteadily, "What--" her voice cracked and she swallowed it, closing her eyes hard for a moment to recollect herself and regain control -- though not much. Kate was absolutely positive her boyfriend knew she was in distress, otherwise he wouldn't have been looking at her like that, but she needed to tell him why and not prolong the cruelty any more than she had to. Leaving him hanging was unintentional, of course, but it was difficult to find the words. She wasn't sure they existed inside of her anywhere, and garnering the strength to make them materialize was requiring a spectacular amount of emotional energy from her.

"You don't... remember what happened after that?" The brunette sealed her lips and bit them down together, gritting her teeth hard and tensing her jaw when he looked at her with the same worried, almost blank expression he'd fixed her with just a second ago. She sighed heavily and opened her mouth to speak, although there was another beat of silence before she started. "Charlie... last night," Kate murmured to him, looking into his eyes, even as much as it pained her to do that as they welled uncomfortably, "last night, you proposed to me."

Her lower lip trembled and she sucked in another inhale, feeling her lungs burn when they reached capacity. "And I said yes," Kate's voice was distinctly unstable now and it was getting worse and more pathetic as she continued. However, there was no going back now. No burying the hatchet, so to speak. She had to tell him. This time, at least, expressing to him that she felt awful (because of something he had done) was easier than it had been the last time. Kate was unsure whether that was a positive sign or one that she was just becoming used to the way this could be. That idea made her uneasy and her throat cinched up tight inside of her neck. "I -- you sounded so serious, I thought -- and then we woke up this morning and you didn't remember any of it and I don't really know what that means,"

The tears gathering in the corners of her brown eyes inched their way down her cheeks in salty little tracks, one by one as they fell, and she didn't bother to wipe them. She had a feeling the worst was yet to come.

Charlie’s headache had been starting to retreat, but now it was threatening to come back with a vengeance. His brow furrowed; the expression a visible representation of the confusion within. Kate was clearly struggling to tell him what he’d done and he’d evidently been inebriated enough that he couldn’t remember it on his own – which was never a good sign. “... After?” He looked at her blankly, moving his head to one side in a half-hearted shake. The suspense was absolutely killing him, and if she didn’t hurry up there was a slight chance he might just tell her to spit it out – and he probably wouldn’t be nice about it either. Then her eyes were welling and—

'You proposed to me.'

“I what?” Charlie laughed instinctively, then his face fell as the gravity of those words hit him and he realised that Kate was serious, and she was crying. The brunette stepped back from the bench, and from Kate. It didn’t make sense. He wouldn’t— he wasn’t ready for that level of commitment and he wasn’t about to risk ruining what they had built back up by asking that of her too soon. Or at all, yet. So why would she think he’d proposed to her? In his shock he didn’t even hear her confession.

Charlie turned it over in his head. He still couldn’t remember it, even with her prompts. Flashes of bare skin and mumbled admissions, but he couldn't make out anything clearly. Had he really been that drunk? Drunk enough not to recall, and also enough to even say it in the first place? “What—“ he started, looking away briefly before forcing himself to look her in the eyes, frowning again at seeing tears falling down her cheeks, “what exactly did I say?” She must have misheard or misunderstood him. That was the only explanation.

He did love Kate, and a part of him had an inkling that he wanted to marry her one day – but that was exactly it: one day. And maybe that wasn’t the only reason for his hesitation. Charlie seemed to hurt her so often, did she really deserve to be locked into that sort of life with him? But, he backtracked now, she’d said yes. What did that mean? That she was ready? Well, if he really thought about it he’d known that for months hadn’t he? Up until Layla, anyway. Kate didn’t hide how she felt about him, not like he did.

The frown hadn’t left his handsome features, if anything it deepened. He wasn’t going to be rushed. “Kate, I’m not ready.” he said simply, sharply.

Her heart clenched sharply in her chest when he laughed at her, the tones humorless, crisp, and cold. He was laughing at her. Was the idea really so absurd that it had caused a spontaneous reaction like that one? Did he really find her so absolutely silly and the notion of marrying her so distant that he could comfortably laugh at her? Kate had to resist gritting her teeth in anger. Of course, it was a normal reaction to be upset that her boyfriend thought this way, right? She wasn't going to fault herself for being hurt. She hadn't suggested the idea in the first place, he had, and now he was acting like it had never happened.

Kate's own knee-jerk response fell out of her mouth in an offended little grunt. He had the audacity to fact-check her when he'd been so drunk he couldn't recall any of it without her help? She ground her teeth together and tensed her jaw, the tears spilling from her eyes reminiscent of mixed feelings that were separate and far from sadness or longing. This was unfolding even worse than she'd foreseen it doing and her heart was breaking inside the confines of her chest. Her breath rattled when she sucked another one in and she avoided eye contact with her boyfriend -- that was all he was, now, she was one-hundred per cent positive of that fact -- she wanted to avoid saying or doing anything she might've seriously regretted.

When she felt she'd regained an ounce of composure, she flattened her brow and looked back up at him, trying, despite the way she felt, to keep her words and her gaze firm. "We were talking about forever," The brunette cleared her throat roughly when it closed up again. She always thought it would be easier to muddle her way through a sentence amidst crying before she actually tried to speak, and then she was consistently proven wrong. One of the hardest physical tasks to accomplish, really. "And then you said that 'we should do it.'" There was another pregnant pause. Kate closed her brown eyes to put a barrier between them for a moment and reopened them when she located another sliver of courage. "I wasn't sure what you meant, so I asked you what you meant," She exhaled heavily, "And you said that we should get married. And I said that we should, and then... we fell asleep."

Exhausted, even from so few words, she lifted her pair of shaking hands to cup her face for a second. It was too humiliating to be looked upon in such a state after being laughed at and met with a copious amount of skepticism that she was even telling the truth. To top it all off, now, he was snapping at her. And telling her that he wasn't ready. Of course he wasn't ready. Had he thought she needed him to say it flat-out in order for her to understand that? Kate's face crumpled more under the guise of her palms and she waited to reveal it again. It felt less comfortable being so vulnerable and hurt in front of somebody who didn't even take her emotions seriously. "Then why would you say that to me? That's..." She scrambled in the dark for a better word than the one that came out. "...awful,"

A frown was etched into her pretty features and the tears were still falling periodically in almost-silent patters against the tile of the kitchen floor. The eggs had been forgotten about. Her headache seemed dull fuzz in the background. In the foreground, well. Heartbreak. Some girls kept that as a staple in their lives -- was she one of them? She wondered whether that made her weak or strong.

Charlie felt a little pang of remorse somewhere in his chest; he shouldn’t have laughed, but she had completely blindsided him. Even now, he didn’t remember asking her to marry him. His gut felt like a pit of writhing snakes, and he was struggling to comprehend how the morning had deteriorated so quickly. It was his fault, as usual, that she was crying, and he briefly wondered if maybe Kate would in fact be better off without him – but he quickly shoved that thought away. He didn’t like it. Didn’t want to even entertain it. As much as he was pushing her away right now, he didn’t want her to leave him.

Charlie could see that she wasn’t just upset – she was angry at him, frustrated. He mirrored her expression, his frown firmly in place as he set his jaw and looked away from her. Charlie’s line of sight was focused on a place that didn’t exist – he was staring furiously at nothing, just avoiding her gaze. The atmosphere was charged and Charlie had forgotten all about how hungry he was and his headache and everything else that had been bothering him a moment ago and now seemed so insignificant in comparison. When she finally started speaking again Charlie’s scowl slipped into something softer for a brief second before deepening, his ears straining to listen to her despite the fact there was nothing else to distract him.

Charlie didn’t say anything for a minute. He was processing, or trying to.

Out of the corner of his eye Charlie could see Kate hiding her face, and rather than elicit the usual feelings of concern, it simply reminded him of his supposed guilt and made him angrier. He flicked his eyes up to meet hers, the waspish tone of his voice not having lessened any despite the revelation that it had been him that had seemingly started the forever conversation – well, according to her, anyway. “I don’t fucking know,” he snapped. He was struggling to find the answers himself, and even if he had, he didn’t know if wanted to tell her the truth.

He wanted to leave, but he didn’t know where to go. They weren’t in London; he wasn’t familiar with the area. The brunette gritted his teeth and simply stood, one hand resting on the bench in a tight fist, his short nails digging into his palm whilst his other hand reached up and ran through his hair again, tugging lightly at the lengths in his frustration. He wanted to ask her again, ask if she was sure that’s what he’d said, but he was wary of widening the metaphorical chasm between them. He settled for a sort of admission, once again not looking her in the eye: “If I said we should get married, that doesn't mean I want to marry you right now.”

She jerked in response to him snapping at her and felt the entire upper half of her body flatten like a board of plywood. Kate wasn't sure why angry men raising their voices in any sort of manner was scary in and of itself, but it sort of initiated a biological recoil that she couldn't shut off. Even though she knew that it was just Charlie and she shouldn't totally fault him for being upset -- he didn't remember anything, of course, it made sense he would be -- she did wish that he would be more gentle with her. Employ just a touch of grace the way she tried to do when her feelings were hurt, even if it had been, frankly, his fault.

Kate was half-convinced he still didn't believe her by the way he was dodging looking at her in the eye for more than about three seconds, and then fully, one-hundred-percent convinced when he prefaced his next blow with if. While she normally approved of his forwardness and his frank manner of speaking, (when he did speak), she thought about how much less... painful this could have been if he'd just taken a moment to filter through the things he was going to let escape his mouth. It still would have been painful hearing, in any way shape or form, that he didn't want to marry her, but maybe it would have been... a little less so.

The brunette leaned back against the counter and crossed her arms, staring at him while she flicked through a whole stack of things she could say to him in her mind. The contrast between this attitude and the one he'd had last night (or even five minutes ago) were absolutely staggering. It was almost scary, she thought, the speed at which his feelings for her seemed to be able to dissipate and reappear. And how, in her constancy and devotion, she seemed to be the one at fault. Kate knew she'd still say all the same things now that she had the night before -- why was that a thing to be angry at and scorn? What had she done wrong other than simply... agreed with him?

"I didn't make you say anything." She stated firmly, sucking in a long, shallow breath through her nose. "I... understand that you don't want to marry me now." Her brown eyes welled and Kate lifted a hand to wipe at them furiously again. She felt pathetic and low. "Are you... ever going to want to?" The pitch of her voice lifted during the latter half of her question, marred by her tears and her fear, and her brow knitted -- not in anger, just in sadness and disappointment -- while she looked at him. She was afraid of the answer and wished she hadn't needed to ask in the first place, but now it seemed relevant that she do so.

Charlie continued to look anywhere but at Kate. At the floor, out the window, at the cold, half-forgotten eggs on his discarded plate. Why did she have to spoil the morning by bringing this up? Everything had been fine. They’d been happy. Couldn’t it have waited? Or better yet, been forgotten about until he was ready to bring it up again? Kate knew he didn’t like to be pushed into things. Especially when he didn’t remember agreeing to them in the first place.

Charlie saw her move slightly out of the corner of his eye, and though part of him wanted her to just... do what every other girlfriend he’d ever had had done and storm off angry at him and his volatile moods, a larger part of him was grateful that she hadn’t. Charlie was being pulled in every direction internally. He didn’t know if he wanted to apologise and confess his love to her, try to distract her from this mess with physical connection, or push her away and seek solace somewhere else – with someone else.

“Didn’t you?” Charlie’s eyes darted up to meet hers accusingly and he regretted it immediately, the harsh frown he’d been wearing softening into something else. It was easier to be mad at Kate when he wasn’t gazing upon her tear-stricken face. “I—“ he faltered, his anger still simmering beneath the surface but not quite at the full rolling boil it had been moments before. Hearing her repeat his words made them somehow even less pleasant, and he knew, somewhere in his mind, that he disagreed with his own sentiment. Charlie wasn’t even sure why he was so reluctant. According to Kate, he’d been all for it last night. His own indecision frustrated him – he just wanted to feel sure about something, anything. He was more certain about Kate than he’d been about anyone else, ever, and that terrified him.

Charlie scowled and turned away from the petite brunette. Her question left no room for misunderstanding. It was direct; the musician had no way of avoiding it without giving a wordless answer – and he might be insensitive, but Charlie wasn’t so heartless that he would let her stew on that because even he knew that no answer was essentially a ‘no’ with this sort of conversation. Although, one could argue that the words he did get out were less comforting than he intended them to be. He sighed heavily, resigned to knowing whatever he said now wouldn’t be the right answer. “I don’t know.” He replied honestly, quietly, flicking his dark brown eyes up to meet hers belatedly.