the dark end of the street [charlie]

Fflur had been pretty successful in avoiding everyone who knew her the past several years -- it was easy to do when all she had to do was leave France unannounced. She kept in touch, of course, and it was easy to not be tempted by their drinking when all conversations happened by post. That is, until she and Robin, her pretty much live-in boyfriend, realized they had a mutual acquaintance who neither of them were related to or had previously dated -- formally dated -- because if anything had happened between her and Charlie Baker, she had been blissfully unaware (drunk) and had blacked out the memory completely (remembered the entire thing and how horrible it was) so it didn’t really count.

Robin had had his catch up with Charlie; she supposed she ought to be worried she hadn’t successfully dismissed all those people from her ‘past’ life or that said people also knew her also sober boyfriend, but Fflur was mainly upset that she was in England. Fflur didn’t much fancy Northern England in particular, but she fancied Scotland even less, so when Charlie had given her those two options, she had to settle on the lesser of two evils. That, and it was hard not to want to see Charlie, as much as she knew she ought to have a better resolve.

She was in Yorkshire, somewhere, on a late Sunday afternoon, seated in a warm corner of a small restaurant, hands clasped around a cup of tea. She was early -- a recurring side effect of her sobriety, she supposed. In hindsight, she should have used that extra time to give Banshee’s album a proper listen but even when they were friends she couldn’t really listen; it was too weird. Then when that one song had been on the radio over, and over, and over again, she had pretty much written off the whole thing. Still, she was prepared to bullshit her way through her compliments. Fflur shifted in her seat, her gaze flicking toward the door as it opened and the day’s last light spilled in, bringing a new customer that wasn’t Charlie.

Shifting again, Fflur shrugged off her jacket and pulled down the sleeves of the shirt underneath, her hands quickly re-finding her mug -- they felt so empty without holding onto something, whether a drink or a cigarette or anything, really. It wasn’t an all out pub -- they had a roast special and people milling about with coffees and everything -- but there was enough alcohol around to make her grateful for the tea keeping her occupied.

The door opened again and Fflur looked up, her eyebrow arched. The awkwardness she thought she would feel seeing Charlie wasn’t there -- and why should it be? Not drinking was her own decision, catching up with Charlie was her own decision -- ditching her in Paris had been his decision but she was pushing that from her mind -- so this could only be as weird as she made it. Ignoring everything about the last time she had seen him, Fflur stood up when Charlie was close enough and pulled him into a hug. “All that Banshee money, you’d think you’d look a little less shitty.”

This probably wasn’t the best idea he’d had in recent memory, but it certainly wasn’t the worst. Charlie had sent Fflur an owl before Christmas, not long after seeing Robin, because once he'd known Fflur and Robin were seeing each other he realised he couldn't put off seeing her forever -- and really, he wanted to see her -- but neither of their schedules had really had an opening until now. It had been one thing after another, her with school, both of them with their own holiday plans. They’d finally locked in a date, and Charlie had offered to make the trip North, knowing that Fflur now had a day job and he didn’t.

The only spanner in the works was that Kate had left him a few days ago. Packed up her things and gone. Since then, the drinking had started. It was a miracle he’d even remembered to come – well, that was part of it, wasn’t it? He’d remembered last minute, or rather been reminded, by the slip of parchment held on his fridge by a magnet. He’d been going for another beer when he’d seen it, done a double-take, then realised he was due to meet Fflur in less than thirty minutes, nearly two hundred miles away.

He’d splashed some water on his face, quickly changed into jeans and a t-shirt, grabbed his battered leather jacket and his keys, and started apparating north. He’d suggested a place on the outskirts of Sheffield, so he at least knew where he was going. Arriving in a nearby alley, Charlie walked briskly the few hundred yards to the restaurant.

The musician entered and began scanning the room immediately. He dismissed a young waitress who approached him asking if he needed a table by pointing in the general direction of the corner Fflur was sitting in as he spotted her familiar blonde bird's nest. In his hurry to get here he hadn’t even thought about seeing her again, or what they might do or talk about. He hadn't seen her since he'd skipped out on her after that night, and he definitely didn't want to talk about that.

It had been a sign of their respective changes in maturity (supposedly) that they’d arranged to have a meal rather than go out with the explicit intention of drinking. Unfortunately for Fflur, Charlie was like to carry on as he’d started the day, with more alcohol – whether she chose to partake or not.

Charlie reached Fflur’s table wearing a lopsided grin, all worry expelled from his thoughts momentarily as he remembered how much he'd missed her, “Alright, trouble?” He wrapped his arms around her, returning her embrace – perhaps a little tighter than sober-Charlie might have done. Charlie laughed at her comment, hoping (perhaps misguidedly) that she couldn’t see how little he’d been sleeping. “Yeah, well, you don’t look as rough as you usually do,” he said in a backhanded compliment, smirking as he slipped out of his jacket and took the seat opposite her, kind of launching into it in his eagerness to sit.

The waitress came over and asked if either of them wanted to order, Charlie glanced at Fflur, his dark eyes spotting the tea on the table between them. He pulled a funny little face. He’d forgotten that she was apparently not drinking now. His gaze flicked back up to her face; she did look a lot better than he remembered (though perhaps he'd been trying to convince himself of something). Her skin was clearer, her eyes brighter – her general appearance just, a marked improvement on his memory. Shame the same couldn’t be said of him. “Er, a bitter, please. Whatever’s on tap.” He replied, not the least bit concerned about the potential temptation that might provide for his friend -- did a small part of him want her to be tempted? The waitress turned and left them, and Charlie began fidgeting with the cutlery on the table, running his finger along the fork handle. His eyes darted back to Fflur, “So, how are things? How’s Robin?” He smirked.

All that money, he might have been able to smell better, too. It was instantly recognizable of course, and did nothing but jog her memories. A mixture of stale smoke, staler alcohol, and Charlie in general; it was comforting, and she held onto him for a second too long. She shrugged as she took a step back, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “I showered. Put in that extra effort just for you.” She resumed her seat and found her tea almost immediately, taking a quick sip before cradling the cup in her hands.

Fflur shrugged as Charlie’s eyes moved from her tea to her face. She knew that he knew, and in that moment she was mostly grateful that he didn’t draw attention to it, embracing that more than the anxiety she felt when he ordered a beer despite her sobriety. She dropped her gaze to his fidgeting hand, mesmerized for a brief second before realizing with a sharp drop in her stomach that this might be an impossible situation. Charlie, drinks, Charlie and drinks. “I—“ she started, cut short as Charlie posed his own question.

“Oh, fuck off,” she replied with a roll of her eyes. But she waited a beat and smirked. “He’s well, thanks. Sad he couldn’t make it but he can hardly stand spending time with one of us, let alone the both of us.” She shrugged, running her thumb up and down the porcelain of her mug. Robin was genuinely busy, but no one needed to know how highly (or otherwise) people thought of each other. “And, er…” she paused and furrowed her brow. The girlfriend’s name had been mentioned, it must have been. Charlie certainly hadn’t told her, but RObin must have; rr, to make her feel a bit better about not remembering it, it must have never come up. “The American?” That should narrow it down while only hinting at her and Robin discussing Charlie’s existence.

The waitress was exceedingly and almost annoyingly prompt, returning with Charlie’s beer as Fflur’s question left her mouth. She averted her gaze from his pint to her tea, shrugging again but not bothering to check if he was paying attention to her. Attempting to be as casual as possible, she took another sip, doing her best to not focus on literally anything else.

Charlie grinned, “Yeah, don’t blame him. Must be hard enough putting up with you twenty-four seven.” His dark eyes searched her face. He was glad they’d been able to slip back into their usual playful camaraderie without any awkwardness (and on her part, without needing to not be sober). As the day had drawn closer, Charlie had grown a little anxious that it wouldn't be the same. That it had been too long. That he'd ruined it. He was kind of glad, selfishly, that Robin couldn’t make it. He liked Robin, obviously, but he wasn’t sure how the dynamic might change with the two of them together – and with Charlie being the third wheel. It wasn’t something he was planning to experience any time soon. Better to get back on side without having to tiptoe around Robin's feelings.

“You guys live together, right?” He wasn’t actually sure. If she worked at the school did that mean she had to live there or could just choose to? Was Robin even allowed on the grounds? Charlie couldn’t remember ever having seen anyone that wasn’t a professor in the castle, excluding Filch and the giant. Maybe they lived in Hogsmeade? Charlie had just addressed his letter to Hogwarts, knowing it would find her there (as long as she hadn’t been fired), but also not really wanting Robin to receive it and take it the wrong way -- Charlie hadn't told him about... any of it. Had lied, in fact, but he assumed Fflur wouldn't be outing them if she did remember. Anyway, maybe they didn’t live together at all – not all couples did, and very few probably moved in straight away like he and Kate had done. He frowned at the thought, unable to keep his emotions from taking over his facial expression.

Fflur asked Charlie the question he had been hoping to avoid. Rookie mistake, really – asking her about Robin was bound to invite her to ask about Kate. He wasn't sure he wanted to talk to Fflur about her. Charlie’s beer arrived like a gift from the gods, and he eagerly picked it up and took a sizeable drink reflexively. It was only as he placed the glass back on the table that Charlie’s gaze fell on Fflur’s mug again, and a tiny surge of guilt settled in his gut – but nothing compared to the gaping hole that seemed to be occupying his chest. “Kate.”  He said finally, quietly, staring a little intently at Fflur’s tea and sitting back in his seat as if it offended him.

“I don’t know.” The brunette murmured honestly, not sure how to explain the situation other than to start by saying “We’re not... together anymore.” He picked up his pint again and took another long drink, his fingers staying wrapped around it like his life depended on it, the glass already drained by a third.

 â€œYeah, well,” she paused, taking a sip of tea instead of offering her choice of innuendo, something about how hard it was to live with her. “Whatever.” She smiled as she shrugged, her hands wrapped around her mug again. “Nah, we don’t. I mean--” she paused, unsure how to explain it without making herself seem like a mooch, or any more than he already knew her to be, she supposed. “I’m at his more than mine, but I get all my meals free if I technically reside at the school.” Okay, no way to phrase it without sounding like she just needed the free stuff -- but how was that any different than before? She shrugged again as she bit her lower lip and made a half smile. “Real domestic, I know.”

Fflur raised an eyebrow as Charlie corrected her forgetting the other woman’s name. The mood had shifted considerably; was he really that offended that she hadn’t remembered her name? He wasn’t reading into that, was he? That she had forgotten it on purpose because she was hung up on him or something, right? Of course, she knew it was an easy name to remember, so maybe he had every right to be offended. He probably only remembered RObin’s name because they were mates, right? Fflur was sure Charlie wouldn’t have committed his name to memory if the situation had been any different.

“Ah.” Fflur averted her eyes, tipping her mug forward to look down at her last sip of tea. She had hoped she was wrong about him being offended, but not like this. “Fuck.” She drained her cup and set it back down, chancing a glance back up at Charlie to gauge her next step. They had been close once, she supposed; but they hadn’t talked for nearly three years. What were they now? They had discussed their personal lives before -- if you could call disparaging past lays in dark bars a ‘discussion of relationships’ but she figured there had been certain exceptions, too -- so she figured she might as well ask. What was the worst that could happen? He’d just not talk to her some more.

But the more he was talking, the less he was drinking. “Er, do you wanna talk about it?” She looked at him for a few seconds before catching the eye of the waitress, pointing at her empty mug with a pleading look before returning her attentions back to Charlie. “What’d she do?”

Being in the rare position of never having to worry about money, Charlie sometimes temporarily forgot that some of his friends were not in quite so comfortable a position. He knew, generally, with whom he should split the bill out of pride, and who was quite happy for him to pick up the whole tab. He tried to be considerate about it. And he never did it for someone he wasn’t genuinely fond of. When he and Fflur had been ‘drinking buddies’, for want of a better term, he’d always bought their rounds. He didn’t mind. It was worth it to have someone who would drink with him and not judge him for how much.

Despite the unsavoury nature of their relationship and the minor detail that they hadn't seen each other in three years, Charlie definitely considered Fflur a friend. He actually felt more than a little guilty that he hadn’t spoken to her in so long. That was his fault, and he wondered how different things might be now if he'd had the balls to go back and apologise.

Charlie simply nodded, “Well it’s... better than rushing into anything.” Been there, done that. He rolled his lips kind of awkwardly, unsure how to ask about her and Robin without sounding interested, “How long have you two been...?” He hadn’t actually gleamed much about his mutual friends’ relationship from his catch-up with Robin, and that had been a couple of months ago so anything he had learnt he’d probably forgotten -- or tried to forget. It hurt, a little, to talk about relationships when his own had just ended, but he didn’t really want his reunion with Fflur to be all about him and his self-pity.

“’Fuck’ is right.” He replied with a heartless little laugh, taking another sip of his drink. He looked at Fflur, mildly surprised by the question, but even moreso at the fact that yes, he did want to talk about it. With her. He hadn’t been able to do so with anyone, he’d just been wallowing by himself, or receiving a lecture from Sam, or trying to forget by going out with Liam. He tried to figure out how best to start, opening his mouth just as Fflur prompted him.

What’d she do?

Charlie just laughed, mirthlessly. “I thought you knew me better than that.” He grinned, though his eyes were sad. He wasn't sure if Fflur was trying to make him feel better by giving him the benefit of the doubt, or if she'd somehow forgotten how he tended to treat his girlfriends. Friends too, apparently. Charlie had hoped he'd changed, for Kate, but bad habits were hard to break. His expression slowly fell, and he drank deeply again while he considered his reply. “She didn’t do anything.” He replied finally. His gaze dropped from looking at Fflur to the table; he didn't want to see the disappointed look in her eyes. “I cheated on her.” he admitted quietly.

“I dunno, a few months.” She paused before adding, “August.” She did a quick count in her head; that was five or six months and officially her longest relationship; it was probably a good thing she hadn’t realized that before now or she might have spooked herself. Still, it was oddly comforting that she was so… comfortable, for lack of a better word. She impressed herself, even.


Fflur shrugged, offering CHarlie a half-smile. She was, fully, just giving him the benefit of the doubt, because even the shittiest people -- of which Charlie was one -- had the ability to change. Or she liked to think so, anyway, for her own sake. She lifted her mug to her lips to take another large sip of her tea as he did the same with his beer, not remembering she had already finished i off. She glanced toward the bar and saw the waitress working on something, and she willed it to be her next cup.

“Oh.” She kept her eyes trained on Charlie’s face even as he looked away from her. If she had to pick any one reason for Charlie’s relationship to sour, cheating would have been it. She had always felt better not knowing his exact relationship status whenever they -- she sighed and shrugged again. “Well,” she said after thirty seconds or so of silence. “That was stupid.” The waitress returned with her tea then, and she traded her for her empty mug, wasting no time before wrapping her hands around the new one. “I think he’ll need a refill,” she nodded at the continually decreasing volume of liquid in Charlie’s glass before the waitress turned away again.

Ordering Charlie drinks while telling him how stupid he was in the same breath -- things were starting to feel normal again.

She took a sip of tea, knowing it was too hot for it to be a good idea, but needing to buy herself a few more seconds. He was her friend, yes, but men like him were also the reason she had avoided commitment for so long. “I hope she was worth it,” she said as she rolled her eyes, assuming she probably wasn’t if past precedence still held true.

Charlie raised his eyebrows, “New record?” He smirked, casting his eyes down at his drink as the expression faltered. Even if they only counted the months Kate had physically lived with Charlie, it had been his longest real relationship (Honey, he knew now, had just been more of an arrangement). Add the months she’d still been in school and they’d been writing and, well, it was no surprise that he’d thought this was it. The real thing.

“Yeah, it was.” He agreed, not seeing any point in trying to argue, or make himself look less of an arsehole. Fflur knew him well enough to know it was his fault, and only his. He wasn't going to insult her intelligence by pretending otherwise, as much as he wanted her to not think less of him than she undoubtedly already did. Fflur hadn’t met Kate, and he was glad they hadn’t gotten around to that double date he and Robin had sort of joked about. Partly because he didn't want to see Fflur and Robin cuddling up, but mostly because Charlie didn’t want Fflur to see just how good he’d had it, how colossal a mistake he’d made. Some of his girlfriends in the past, though nobody deserved to be cheated on, they weren’t exactly worth crying over. But Kate was different. There wasn’t a bad bone in her body, and he’d still not been able to control himself. The musician looked up as his companion ordered him another drink and he nodded lightly, draining the remainder of his glass in a couple of quick gulps.

Charlie shot Fflur a dark look at her next comment, but quickly realised that she wasn’t wrong to be disappointed in him – if that’s what it was. He was disappointed in himself. Angry, even. Mad that he’d been unable to say no. “No, she fucking wasn’t. Thanks to her I gave Kate—“ He snapped, before he stopped himself. He rapidly tried to change tack, in hopes of avoiding any probing, but the alcohol already in his system wasn’t helping him to think clearly or work quickly, “I don’t even know her name. It wasn’t—I was drunk.” That seemed to be the usual excuse, didn’t it? But it didn’t stop him.

The waitress returned with a fresh pint and he was straight into it, trying not to think about the night he'd ruined everything, with a girl he didn't even know, or the other nights he'd been with other women that weren't Kate -- the nights he was hoping she didn't know about, or would ever find out about.

Fflur just sipped on her tea, suppressing the roll of her eyes that was perfect for this moment. She had expected -- though knew he should -- him to agree with her, but she wasn’t going to fight him on it. She was right, after all. Returning his nod with a shrug, Fflur glanced at a couple sitting a few tables over, rather than watch Charlie drain his glass.

She shrugged again as Charlie made it clear that he didn’t appreciate the snark, then watched with raised brows as he declared that she -- that other woman -- definitely wasn’t worth it. He stopped short, and she decided not to pry, for now anyway. She didn’t need all the details -- she could probably piece together the highlights well enough from memory -- but it was always nice to know that she wasn’t the biggest pile of trash at the table. She snorted, just barely holding back her next question: then why do it?. “There it is,” she sighed. Being drunk was the best and easiest excuse, but she still had the smallest hint of a smug smile.

There had been a noticeable lack of fuck ups in Fflur’s life since replacing vodka with tea. It was almost worth it. Almost.

Charlie tucked right into his fresh pint, and Fflur did the same with her tea, ignoring how it burned her tongue. She leaned back in the booth, relaxing her shoulders as she considered the man across from her and whether or not she should change the subject. But he was on that drink without a second thought -- not taking her new situation into account -- so she figured she could return the favor and make him talk about his new situation a bit more. “What’s that you gave her?” She looked at him expectantly, her expression neutral; it was hard not to smirk, considering she had a pretty good idea what it was.

He frowned at Fflur’s reaction, avoiding her gaze momentarily before she spoke again. Charlie knew exactly what she was implying. “Alright—” he snapped as his expression soured, his voice suddenly harsh, “I get it, you’re perfect now that you’re sober, right?”

As soon as he'd said it he wished he hadn't. Charlie rubbed his palm over his face and sighed heavily, “Sorry. Fuck, I didn’t mean—” It wasn’t Fflur’s fault. If anything, she was being the most accepting of anyone he’d told so far. Admittedly she’d known for all of two minutes, but Sam had immediately begun lecturing him, and Liam had started bagging on Kate as if it had been her fault, so thus far Fflur was on top. He shouldn’t attack her, especially not like that.

Charlie knew it must be difficult not to partake, especially when one of your old drinking buddies was sat right in front of you downing pint after pint with ease. Charlie’s long fingers twitched around his glass, wondering if he should swap it out for something non-alcoholic, both for her sake and his.

“How’s that going?” he asked, a little more softly, referring to her sobriety as he nodded gently at her tea. He wanted to know why. Why was she doing this? How long, too, he supposed. Had there been some catalyst or was she just trying to be a better person?

He lifted his drink to his lips when Fflur posed her question, and he stopped dead before taking a sip – his tawny eyes flicked up to meet hers and he lowered the glass slowly. He thought (hoped) she’d missed that. Charlie scowled. It wasn’t exactly the worst thing he’d ever done, especially not to Fflur’s extensive knowledge of his escapades, but that didn’t make it any less horrible – or embarrassing. That was the worst part. And he'd been more upset about that at the time rather than his girlfriend. He rolled his lips as he mulled over the best way to say it, but realised there was no nice way to do so. “An STI.” He mumbled, barely audible over the din around them.

Fflur really shouldn’t have laughed when she was accused of being perfect. She knew he meant it poorly, but she was so far past caring about other peoples’ — including Charlie’s — opinions on this matter that she couldn’t help but snort again. Shrugging, Fflur averted her gaze, back to the bar for a second before focusing again on something else less suspicious. Truthfully, it did help to think of herself as just slightly better than other people who weren’t making the same sacrifice that she was -- she needed that to be able to keep herself proud and somewhat motivated — but it only helped so much. ‘I was drunk’ was her excuse for the past decade of her life, and she she surely discounted the majority of her actions, especially those with Charlie, because of it. Now she had no excuse and had been treading lightly because of it, bordering on boring.

Still: she wasn’t the biggest pile of trash at the table.

She shrugged again, cutting off his apology with a small shake of her head. “No, you’re right.” Nodding, she finished her thought, as seriously as possible: “I am perfect.” The serious look could only remain for so long; now that the subject had been broached and wasn’t hanging silently and awkwardly between them, it was easy to talk about it like it was all a joke. It kind of was, wasn’t it?

Her gaze drifted down to her tea as his did, flicking back up to meet his eye as she considered the question. “It’s…” she started, unsure how to continue. No one had asked her that before. She wasn’t part of some group, didn’t openly discuss it with Robin, and besides the initial revelation, her sister never brought it up again. “If anything,” she restarted, shifting the subject slightly toward something else, “I probably smoke more now, so I’m not sure it even does me any good.” That was only half true, of course. She didn’t have chunks of time missing from her memory now -- though she wouldn’t mind missing some that involved having to teach -- like was so common about the past several years; she had the fleeting feeling that she wouldn’t have felt so drawn to Robin (again) if they hadn’t had this unspoken quality in common.

It was good to get the conversation back to things Charlie had done, rather than the things Fflur hadn’t (and wouldn’t). Her resolve not to smirk was weak. “Christ,” she paused to take a sip of tea. “That was sort of a dick move.” She played her words back to herself quickly. “Literally.” She exhaled sharply through pursed lips. “So I gather she didn’t take that news too well?” She did her best to keep her mind away from wondering if she needed to be worried about anything.

Charlie’s brow furrowed lightly in confusion as Fflur cut him off -- but he was grateful she had. She was being an arse for his benefit and he appreciated it. He didn’t deserve her help. He didn’t deserve much from anyone right now – except for a kick in the shins, probably, at best. If history was anything to go by, Fflur might do just that for him too.

His expression was relatively neutral as she met his gaze, bordering on sympathetic – which was rich, coming from him right now. But it was good. He needed something to distract him from his own woes, if only temporarily, and remember that other people had problems too. Charlie offered Fflur a weak grin, rubbing at the side of his face, “Well, lungs or liver – I guess one’s better than both.”

He wasn’t sure if he’d ever give up either of his vices, but if he had to pick one Charlie felt like giving up smoking would be the easier, or at least more preferable, of the two. Smoking was just a bad habit,  it had been the cool thing to do, once upon a time, but it didn’t really do anything for him. Not like drinking did. He wanted to ask Fflur why she was giving up on the booze, but he was scared to find out. Scared that he’d have a similar reason, or worse, that he was the reason.

Charlie could feel his cheeks warming as a result of his discomfort at revealing something so intimate and, frankly, embarrassing. He flicked his eyes up to meet Fflur’s and grimaced. “Mm.” He frowned, “No, obviously not. Would you?” He asked, though it was clear he wasn’t really looking for an answer -- he hoped she didn't take that as a sort of hint. He bit his lip and wondered if he ought to clarify that it was definitely a recent development (he wasn't completely irresponsible when it came to his health), but decided against it. Charlie took a long drink of his beer, already having forgotten his slight guilt at drinking in front of Fflur – it was far outweighed by his remorse over what he’d done to Kate. He placed his glass back on the coaster and stared at it for a minute, clearly deep in thought. “I fucked up, Fflur.” He stated quietly, not looking her in the eye. "I don't know what to do."

“Yeah,” she nodded as she weighed the importance of her lungs versus her liver. “Plus, smoking makes me look much cooler.” Of course, now that she had spoken about smoking for more than two seconds, she was itching to move outside. She wasn’t sure how she managed to convince herself, but sitting there for a few more minutes seemed to be slightly more necessary for Charlie’s sake. Alcohol consumption aside, she wanted to know more about his fuckup, some backwards way of making herself feel better about the world, about herself. Other people had problems, too. That was oddly comforting.

Fflur shrugged, silently answering his question with a couple of quick blinks. She watched him drink, certainly longer than necessary, her gaze slightly narrowed as he finished and studied it for a bit. This had quickly stopped being fun. He seemed genuinely upset, almost, if she knew what that looked like on him. Her usual response would be ‘Eh, fuck her!’ followed by a probable ‘I already did, that’s my problem!’, a laugh, and another round of drinks. This was… not that.

She resisted the urge to agree with him, that he had obviously fucked up, instead biting her bottom lip and studying his face, her eyes darting back and forth across sullen features. They sat in silence for a couple minutes; she knew she ought to say something but somehow her suggestion to apologize didn’t seem like the right thing, nor would telling him that she had never managed to get herself into this situation, and she had probably had just as much opportunity for it as he did.

“I don’t know, mate. I don’t know how to repair relationships.” She paused to take another swallow of tea. “That’s what you want to do, right? Sounds like it, anyway.” It wasn’t anything she thought she would really ask him, nor was it something that she really expected him to do. From the mental picture she had of this woman, she had no idea what he saw in her, but really, who was she to judge? It had taken them three years of silenece for her and Charlie to get to this point. She was almost understanding these days. Almost. Not too much.

Charlie responded with a sad excuse for an agreeing smirk. He couldn’t remember exactly when he’d started smoking, but he was pretty sure it had indeed been all about looking cool at the time. Now it was just habit, one that he hadn’t really had good enough reason to try and stomp out. Kate hadn’t liked it – he knew. She’d never explicitly asked him to stop, but there had been hints. Perhaps he’d hoped that if he kept that going, when it came down to being asked to quit something (namely tobacco or alcohol), he’d be able to at least stop smoking. Well, that didn’t really matter now, did it?

But that got him wondering if Fflur knew how he and Robin had met, and subsequently nurtured their friendship. For that matter, Charlie didn’t even know if Robin still did that. He assumed as much – what else was there to do in-between jobs? Especially if drinking was now out of consideration. Surely Fflur knew. Charlie bit his lip, still staring absently at his near-empty pint glass. He wouldn’t bring it up, he didn’t want to land Robin in it, not really.

With that thought, Charlie was back to thinking about his own sorry predicament and everything that had led to it. How Kate had reacted the first time she found out what he had and hadn’t done in his twenty-six years on Earth. How he’d gotten her drunk not once, but twice, before she was of age even in England – let alone the States, where she still wasn’t legally allowed to buy alcohol. When would she go back? Would she go back? If she did, that was it. The cause was lost, if it wasn’t already. Maybe it already was.

Finally, Fflur spoke. Charlie lifted his gaze to look her in the eye. He nodded softly, “I just want her back.” He said honestly. “I,” he licked his lips, steeling himself, “I don’t… feel right without her.” He looked down again, scratching at a dent in the table awkwardly. It was a little uncomfortable talking like this with Fflur, but she’d heard much worse things come from Charlie’s mouth – this was just tender, rather than uncouth. It was a different level of their friendship, one they didn’t often stoop to. If ever. Better than going the other way, he supposed. “I didn’t mean to do it.”

Fflur frowned. She didn’t like this version of Charlie, and she was suspicious that he didn’t either. It hit her then that if it was her in this situation instead, she’d probably be handling it exactly the same. Of course, she could never be quite that stupid — she had plenty of practice not making as poor of choices as Charlie — and for her, that was saying a lot. “Have you, er,” she paused to frown again, her eyes fixed on Charlie’s finger scratching at the table. “Have you tried to talk to her? If it’s been a while, maybe she’s calmed down?” She chanced a glance up, by way of his nearly empty pint.

“Fuck,” she said after another minute. “You’re depressing me.” She drained her cup quickly and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “C’mon.” Fflur snatched up her jacket from the bench beside her and scooched out of the booth. She shrugged it on, pulling her hair out from the collar, then pulling out a few bank notes for the table, not stopping to point out any discrepancies with what had been their usual of Charlie wordlessly offering to buy her drinks. “Seriously,” she beckoned him again, not above pulling him up herself; either way, she wasn’t going to keep looking at this Charlie.

She lit a cigarette as soon as they were outside and she blindly picked the left direction to start walking in. She didn’t know what she was looking for: a record store or a park bench or just anywhere else that wasn’t a pub of some sort. She wanted to be a good friend, but sitting and watching him drink while listening to him wallow was not leading her toward a good decision.

Distraction seemed like a good enough alternative. “Want to know something hilarious and incredibly embarrassing?” She glanced sideways, still ambling down the sidewalk. Of course, she didn’t really care what Charlie wanted to know -- she was going to tell him no matter what, if only to get him to stop being such a Debbie Downer for two minutes. “Know how I was trying to explain my sister—“ and the many, many reasons they had such an interesting relationship “—and how in seventh year I had this huge crush on a mate? Aaand then she dated him?” They had discussed quite a lot at length, from being muggleborn to failed relationships to breaking the law, but at the time this had fallen into the category of ‘truly horrible life decisions’.

She shrugged, again not caring if he remembered, not that she could blame him considering they were rarely sober and there were certainly some things she wished he’d forget. “Anyway,” she started again after her dramatic pause, “That was Robin.” She laughed, at herself mostly, before trying to take as deep a breath as she could to fill her lungs with as much smoke as possible.