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“Charlie doesn't have dimples.”He doesn't remember saying it. They stare at each other and Pim thinks he's fucked it up. Why did he say that? Who even asked? He thinks she's gonna scrunch up her nose, gonna scoff and say 'You know better than me? Someone who grew up with him? Someone who loved him? What's wrong with you?' He doesn't wanna make anyone upset (and gosh, he hates being yelled at) but before his mind can go further into the depths of regret, she smiles.“When he's kissing you, yeah.”

first smiling friends fic!! please be nice to me, i havent written anything in years hahai dont know if i plan on expanding on this story specifically but i do want to write more!! please let me know where i can improve and what was your favorite scene <3TW: Slur use (F slur, specifically); implied and/or blatant homophobia; vomit/emesis scene; religious trauma/religion mention (Charlie is Catholic); gore mention (in a nightmare); if there are any of topics I missed, please let me know!!EDIT: thank you everyone for the support!!! I'm so so glad so many people were brought to tears because that's exactly the feeling I was hoping to bring with this fic LMAOive gotten so much fanart so im gonna link each piece in the story itself!!! ❤️❤️❤️

It's an average day at the Smiling Friends building; the break room is empty, the quiet hum of the fridge and the dripping of the coffee maker fills the otherwise silent space, and everyone is sitting at the table. Charlie is sitting by Pim, who is on his laptop, Alan is sitting by him and Glep is… actually on the table. It's a slow day, Charlie thinks as he looks around. But… maybe that isn't quite right.

He blinks once, takes in the scene again; the break room is empty. There's the noise of the fridge and the coffee maker but neither of those things are present. In fact, the room is empty now and Charlie feels sinking dread in his gut. He scans the room and he sees the wallpaper starting to tear. Behind it, sticky, red… something is pulsating and his instincts are suddenly screaming at him to leave.

He tries to get up but doesn't budge. He tries again and it feels like he's burning up. His hoodie, though a usual comfort, is dampened as he sweats. His hands dig into the chair, his back almost fused to the damn thing. He can feel his heart thumping as he tries to stand, to kick, to do something to escape the burn and the room. He needs help.

Charlie calls out to Pim but he doesn't even blink. He only stares at the laptop, oblivious to the burning Charlie is experiencing. Alan isn't as lucky; his eyes are wide as his skin starts melting. It's like a mirror, seeing what's going to happen to Charlie. Next to him, a sick, red flesh mound sits– it's all that's left of Glep, besides his hat. Charlie can't help to notice his green skin peppering the mass. His stomach churns. His eyes are heavy but he can't move his head anymore. He can't bear it and yet, he has to look down. He has to. When the yellow critter finally manages to look down, there are flames at his feet. In the flames, there are hands and the hands are reaching for him.

They've already got the chair, all they need is him.

When Charlie wakes up in a panic, sweating and grasping the sheet, he closes his eyes tight again. First, his breathing. He's sucking in air but it feels like he can't breathe, like his lungs have suddenly dissolved and what he can breathe will never be enough. There's just not enough , God damn it.

He then starts to count his breaths. They last a mere second but soon, he can hold two seconds of breath. Then three. It takes time but he's already awake and he's lost some sleep so he might as well use it wisely. Besides, rushing this sort of thing has never helped him.

Once he can breathe, Charlie opens his eyes. He finally takes in the scene to see he's on the floor, his blanket hanging off the bed. It's probably what actually woke him up when he takes a moment to think. With a sigh, he pulls himself up to sit on his knees. It feels like heaving a sandbag, massive and slow but he gets it. His brain is now starting to thump against his skull and his hands shake, ever so slightly.

Charlie supposes he's never been a decent person, no matter what his job is or who may object to such facts. The point is that maybe Charlie was always destined for it. The lakes of lava, the blood red sky and the various bodies that demons have desecrated. He remembers telling Pim that he doesn't want to talk about it but it's hard when he thinks of Hell.

He thinks he remembers it, at least. He had managed to get a glimpse of it all when God had literally come down from His kingdom above to save his sorry ass. He thinks he remembers swirling clouds, ash in the air from newly burned bodies, the smell of fire and brimstone flooding his senses at the last minute before coming back to life. He knows he remembers it, he has to.

No nightmare has ever been as real as that one.

He feels a deep, deep pit in his stomach when he remembers it. He had briefly considered opening up about it but how can he? At most, a zealous, Bible-thumping priest will only use it to scream at people at the mall and at worst, his friends decide he's truly fucked in the head and leave him be to deal with his issues solo. He can't stand the idea of either scenario so he simply shuts up.

Though with this being the fourth instance of some shit nightmare, Charlie knows only one man he can trust with getting his shit together.

With a groan, he pulls himself up and takes a second to stretch, feeling his bones crack and pop. Fuck, he's tired but it feels like his brain is on high alert. His skin is still crawling and he can feel the vibe of the day already: shit. Stupid fucking nightmares. He already knows the spiel Pim will be on when he sees Charlie but he can't bring it in himself to care. He's just too tired. But because he's just tired, Charlie knows just the thing for this.

He starts rummaging through his bedside table's drawers. He's gotten much better at rolling blunts but he already knows his body isn't as awake as his brain so something quick and easy should do the trick. Once he finally finds a pre-roll, he grabs a lighter from his hoodie that's slowly falling off the chair. He ignores the shakiness in his hands when he flicks the lighter on.

Charlie pauses.

Air.

The outside air is cold and humid. It's early February and he knows he remembers the news guy mentioning some icy rain with a something or other temperature drop and harsh winds but he doesn't care. He just holds his hand to the lighter to make sure it doesn't go out and once his blunt is lit, he takes a deep breath.

He feels it in his lungs, circling and soaking into him. It's harsh for a second, a small cough escaping Charlie, but then it's smooth and by the time he's realized it, the blunt only has a third left of it. There’s a part of him that’s disappointed he couldn’t fully enjoy it but his body is thankful. It doesn't take long to kick in either; it starts in his brain and he feels the calm of it washing over him like a wave. The buzzing in his head has dissipated. Fucking finally .

It always seems to help, he figures out. Whenever the stresses of the day get to be too much or if he's gotten way too close to death, Charlie knows Mary Jane has his back.

Once Charlie finishes the blunt, he drags himself back inside and slowly lumbers towards his bed. He grabs the blanket off the floor and collapses. The bed has never been softer. He doesn't even notice the time change to 3:26 A.M.

He also feels like he barely got any sleep when he wakes up to his alarm blaring at him. Charlie grunts and tries to reach for his phone but his hand only meets cheap wood. The alarm is still going off and he's confused until he realizes that the phone fell with him last night. With a groan, he manages to reach out enough to tap the ‘Dismiss’ button and narrowly avoids passing out again when he notices the time.

He needs to be at work in fifteen minutes. Fuck !

He's at least thankful Mr. Boss is so understanding, at least compared to some of Charlie's previous bosses. He tells Charlie to just ‘come in with your best smile!’ and says to not make a habit of it. Not that Charlie had planned on it. In the back of his brain, he prays it's at least an easy day.

—

Somewhere between the rollercoaster collapsing and the cotton candy machine spewing hot, melted sugar everywhere, Charlie decides he's over this fuck fest of a day. The client was supposedly simple but trying to get the owner of the local carnival to smile was proving more difficult than it appeared. Of course, since he owned all the rides and had traversed many fairs and carnivals and such, he had lost his motivation to continue running his own attractions. Pim and Charlie couldn't figure out why he was so darn unhappy until they figured out the man's new wife was the true source of his “agony.” The duo had managed to convince the owner he deserved better but letting him watch her get trampled by an elephant was also good enough too… apparently.

All in all, not the weirdest day he's had.

The drive to the bar is typical; they talk about the weirdest things from the job and some jokes, more at the expense of the carnival but Charlie knows Pim can take a joke. It's evident by the way Pim does a little giggle then says “Oh Charlie, it's too soon!” or how he bursts out laughing and says “Oh that's so bad! But sooo funny Charlie!”

The memory of Pim’s laugh makes a knot in Charlie's stomach as they pull up to the bar.

“Ya know, I haven't really been to a bar in a long time!” Pim says, excited as he steps out of the car and shuts the door. “Do you remember the last time, Charlie?”

Charlie’s lips feel dry. He wants to say “Doesn't matter, we're here now so let's get wasted!” but the words don't come out. Why won't they come out? He really thinks about it but he can't make out a memory until Pim snaps his fingers.

“Oh! A few weeks before Christ..mas..”

The air changes immediately and Charlie grabs that shit to stuff into his back pocket. He doesn't want to think about that right now, he just says, “That long? Well let's fix that man.” Then he pushes Pim forward, trying to make sure he doesn't dwell on anything stupid.

It's not a long time in the grand scheme of things– only two months– but he's itching to get a drink. He's sick of feeling like shit and he knows a drink will help him unwind. He’ll need it.

Pim looks like he wants to say something but doesn't, opting to follow along. They pass the bouncer, pass the I.D. check (though Pim gets pestered by the bouncer) and they make their way inside the bar; it's a dingy little place and there's nothing but 80’s retro crap everywhere but the music is bumpin’ (and the Jack Daniels behind the bartender is calling to Charlie) so they decide it's a good bar and take their seats at the front.

In good Pim fashion, he brings up something on the T.V. to start the conversation but Charlie's mind is fuzzy. He wants to order a drink quickly but the knot in his stomach is tightening. He doesn't think he'll throw up but the night is still young and Charlie is nearly thirty. Anything is possible.

—

It's 1:05 A.M. when Charlie and Pim leave the bar. The yellow critter doesn't even know what they talked about. He's stumbling next to Pim, who's trying to open his phone for something, and he’s so glad he’s hammered but he can't remember anything from the bar.

It feels like that a lot more lately– moments fleeting and anything not traumatic is immediately removed from his memory. Charlie tries to think about which of them suggested an Uber so they don't drive but he's so drunk and he feels good for once so it doesn't matter. Why does he have to remember? He hears Pim slur a question (or maybe a statement?) but he's thinking– thinking hard about the bar. He doesn't remember their drinks and he doesn't remember winning at pool and he doesn't remember kissing that guy with glasses and–

Oh. His stomach churns.

“Pim, man, I–” He covers his mouth and Pim stops what he's doing. His eyes are hooded, his shirt is untucked with a couple of stains, and he's texting someone but he's focused on what Charlie's about to say.

“I'm gonna hurl.”

“H– oh God, Charlie!” Pim says and he quickly rushes Charlie to the alley next to the bar. “Here!” Pim averts his eyes as Charlie's stomach is flipped, holding his own mouth with one hand (so he doesn't follow suit) and the other rubbing Charlie's back. The phone is on the ground, cracked.

He's so drunk and the night air is so cold and fuck, Charlie should have brought his gloves but he feels like shit. What did he want to talk to Pim about? He takes a look around and wipes his mouth. He's throwing up in the alley next to the bar on a Thursday night. The night reminds him of every other night he's done this and his stomach is twisting, shame starting to pool in his stomach.

Isn't he a man? What is he fucking doing ? Pim is staring at him with concerned eyes and Charlie starts to clam up. He can't do it. It's too fucking stupid. But then again, he's been to Hell; he knows what's waiting for him when he dies. He doesn't think he'll get another chance. He already regrets this but he’s come this far right? He can’t go back yet.

“Charlie, d-do you need wadder?” Pim says, the alcohol lacing his words. “I can go back inside–”

“Somethin's gotta change.” Charlie mumbles.

“Charlie?”

He looks at Pim and the knot returns.

“Pim, I need your help man.”

—

The morning after leaves Charlie with a shit hangover and an even shittier feeling in his stomach. If he’s being honest, he can’t really remember what he talked to Pim about. He catches bits and pieces of the bar but it's such a blur that it gives him motion sickness. His head is pounding so much and his stomach hurts. He hopes he didn’t say anything to Pim.

Charlie jumps when his phone dings, a text from someone. He groans a little but takes a moment to slowly lower the blanket covering his head. Thankfully, he’s kept the blinds closed in his room but there’s just enough light filtering in that his eyes strain and his head throbs. He thinks he should be passed out in the alley but he’s made it home instead.

Pim.

He scans the room for his phone and finds it tossed on the ground, next to his hoodie and his clothes. He hadn’t even noticed he was naked. He doesnt smell anything sour so he doesn’t think that he puked over himself but… well, he has done some really stupid things before.

The journey of making it to his phone is a debilitating experience; the leftover alcohol in his system staggers his movements and the pain in his head is harsh but once he manages to crawl out of bed and pick his phone up. His instincts are right when he sees Pim’s smiling face in his notifications.

‘Hope you feel alright! Woke up with a bit of a hangover LOL!’

The knot starts to drift upwards to his throat and Charlie swallows it back down so he can reply.

‘feeel lik eshit lmaoooo’ He types back, not bothering to check the spelling. The brightness of his phone hurts so he turns it down. Pim replies back immediately.

‘Just take it easy and drink some water! I’ll see you later :) ’

Charlie can’t think of what to say. He doesn't remember asking Pim to come over later, he barely remembers the night before. He tries to rack his brain but his few active brain cells hiss at him so he just sighs and tosses the phone onto his bed. He goes to his bathroom and rummages under the sink before locating a near empty bottle of ibuprofen. He knows his doctor cleared him for it but there's a lingering fear that this will be his last relief. It never happens so he doesn't know why he’s so anxious over it but he can’t stop his hands from the tiniest of shakes as he pops it open.

He takes a couple pills out and makes his way to the kitchen. There’s a half empty water bottle on his counter so he opts to just drink that then he surveys his apartment. He thinks of cleaning it but a weariness starts to bubble up. His head hurts and his body is begging for sustenance but the bed is calling to him.

He hates that about himself, he thinks. He hates how easy it is to crawl into bed and cover his head with the comforter. He hates how the dishes are piling in his sink and his clothes are building up in the corner of his room. He hates the carpet because when he walks barefoot, he picks up crumbs and dust and he hates how his feet are already taking him to his room.

Just a quick nap. For the hangover.

—

Charlie wonders when it was decided he was going to Hell. He has his theories, obviously: some misdemeanor in his early teens or maybe an alcohol filled night with some college buddies. Maybe it's because he's slept with quite a few girls and hasn't found a wife yet. Or maybe it's because his first word was ‘fuck’ and he never apologized for it because why would anyone apologize for something like that. The list goes on in Charlie's mind.

He thinks back to childhood. He had asked Father Abraham if kids could go to Hell and he had said ‘no’ so Charlie had joked that it was better to kill yourself then. He ends up with switch marks and he's told if you kill yourself, you go to Hell. He thinks maybe, because he was an idiot and insisted on using the ax to chop down that stupid tree, that's why he went to Hell. It's basically killing yourself, right?

He thinks back to adolescence. He's fourteen and Marsha Ram is sitting next to him at the Fourth of July Cookout Extravaganza (which is really behind Farmer Mike's barn and he's got the field cleared for fireworks so no repeat of last year happens) and he's nervous. She giggles at him and Charlie can't help but laugh back and she hands him another beer. He knows he shouldn't but he takes it. They hold hands and Charlie feels like he's gonna burst. They talk, get close and finally, they go to the darkness of the barn. Charlie thinks maybe that's why he's going to Hell, because he brought her down too.

He thinks back to the week of his eighteenth birthday. He's volunteering at church camp because he owes the fucking pastor a favor and he's so sick of this place and the town and his fucking family. He already knows his bags will be packed when he gets back home. He's irritated as shit but some young guy, probably twenty if he had to guess, procures a blunt from his vest and they hit it off. Charlie does life guard duty while he teaches the kids proper stretching techniques and some song-related prayers. He lets Charlie handle the roughhousing when the boys call for a tug-a-war and he soothes the losers while Charlie high-fives the winning team. On the last night, they have a bonfire and Charlie gets the knot in his stomach when they kiss behind the outhouses.

He doesn't even remember his name. Maybe that's why he's going to Hell.

Maybe Charlie was doomed from the start. He tries to rationalize, tries to say that there's no way. It's just a fucking guy , why would he suffer for that? He tries to think of loopholes, a reasoning for it. He finds he can't when he remembers his sweet grandmother resting in Hell.

Maybe, this too, was bound to happen.

—

He's suddenly awake when he hears banging on his front door. It takes a second for his eyes to adjust but he finds he's slept for… a while. It's 11:30 A.M. but he can't remember when he made it home or when he fell asleep. He mutters a curse when the knocking on his door starts up again. He throws off the blanket and has half a mind to yell before realizing he's still naked. The pounding in his brain makes itself known and he finds he's in a shit mood now.

Charlie quickly puts on some pants and his hoodie before hoofing it to the door. When he opens it, he's mildly surprised to see Pim standing there with a small box of cards and a folder.

“Charlie!” Pim says excitedly, unaware of how loud he really is, “Good afternoon!”

Charlie rubs his face with his hands and before he can say anything, Pim starts again, “Ah, still recovering from the hangover huh?”

“More like dying.” Charlie mumbles, stepping aside to let the little critter in. “What brings you by?”

Pim steps inside but looks at Charlie and suddenly, he seems… smaller. Unsure of himself. He goes to the table and sets the folder down. “Oh, well, I don't know if you remember much from last night…”

“Not really, man.” Charlie says. He has an idea but the knot is threatening to escape via mouth so he doesn't say anything else.

Pim holds up the box of cards, “Oh! Well, we got to talking and I asked about your day and you told me you were having trouble sleeping and then you mentioned being hungry…? Anyway, I asked if I could help and you had already mentioned food so… yeah!” He laughs nervously and taps the box with his fingers. “Sorry, you probably don't remember all that, huh?”

Charlie's face must give it away. Did he actually go through with asking Pim for help? He feels embarrassment creep up inside him and he rubs the back of his neck, “Sorry, my memory is still a little… fuzzy. You- you don't–”

“You're fine Charlie!” He says cheerfully. Pim hands the box to him and starts to fidget, tapping the buttons on his clean, white shirt. Charlie, by comparison, probably looks homeless. “It's probably… stupid but since you asked–”

Charlie has all but stopped listening as he goes through the cards. Recipes. They're all recipes for food and they're… they're all handwritten? He just keeps going through them as Pim speaks.

“Well you mentioned you can't cook and I thought that was sad! I-I mean, not sad as in bad but you're very good at burning things.” Another nervous laugh. “And I know you told me it's not that big of a deal but I spent a little bit of time finding really easy recipes!”

He takes out a card and it's a casserole, a breakfast one at that. His stomach growls quietly as Pim rattles on.

“I know you also don't really… eat vegetables but they're so good for you and they can be really good! I know this spice mix that will make any veggie or side dish taste absolutely amazing! Plus if you use frozen veggies, that's even less work since I know it's a hassle to cut them, haha!”

On the recipe card, at the very bottom, is a little note that reads ‘Pim tip: Add sriracha for a spicy kick!’ in red marker. The knot in Charlie's throat wants to strangle him so bad but he won't open his mouth. He can't.

“Oh! And if you want, there's also just some recipes using boxed dinners too! It's not the healthiest but it’s better than having Salty’s all the time. N-Not that it's bad! I just… well, you know.” Pim fidgets a little and Charlie puts the card back.

“If… if you don't want to use it–”

“Pim.”

Pim freezes and looks up at Charlie. He's holding the box close to him but he can't help but smile. “You didn't have to do this, ya know man?” He asks. Had Pim really pulled together a small box of recipes for him ? Just because he asked? Did he make it? How long did it take? Did… did he stay up all night?

“Oh, but you're my best friend Charlie!” Pim is quick to give him a hug and Charlie lifts the box so Pim doesn't hit it. “What are friends for?”

When has anyone ever thought this much of Charlie Dompler? What partner has ever put in work the way Pim has? He doesn't know what to say but he can't bring himself to say anything meaningful. He knows he's going to say something stupid so before that happens, he pats Pim on the back, “Thanks, man.” He says. “I owe you one.”

Pim beams, “I'm just happy to help!”

The knot wraps around his stomach. God, he's hungry.

—

If Pim thinks back, he remembers pretty much everything that happened the day he met Charlie Dompler.

Well, maybe that's an exaggeration. If he's honest, Pim doesn't really remember the girl that invited him to the house party. He knows she took his psychology class and that she sat behind him (or next to him?) and that she called him ‘Pink Pimling’ as a cute nickname and not a cruel one like when he was in grade school but her name is just out of reach. He feels bad but it's not like he’ll see her again. Not that he needs to remember her, it's just that he'd like to thank her for inviting him that day.

He's twenty-seven and he's so close to graduating that, honestly, he should be spending his last few months studying. He's worked his ass off for over six years so the thought of goofing around when he's so close causes a certain anxiety to stir within him. What if he fails? What if it's all for nothing? What if his sister is right?

Then Girl comes along with a simple solution: a house party!

Calling her Girl seems a little cruel but any other name he tries to use doesn't fit her face. She doesn't even matter, really. All that matters is that after one day of studying with him in the library, she laughs at him and pats his little head, and then says “Boy, let’s get that stick outta yer ass!”

Pim swears he doesn't have anything like that up his ass but she laughs. He doesn't think it's at him but… it wouldn't surprise him.

The party is loud, smelly, and too far out of Pim's comfort zone. He's not really an alcohol kind of guy (beer tastes… a little gross honestly) and he doesn't do drugs so it leaves him a wallflower. He's a wallflower and he keeps looking for Girl but he hasn't seen her since she brought him here and God, why did he wear a good shirt for this? Why is he here? How did he let himself get here? Doubt crosses his mind and starts to crowd his thoughts as anxiety takes a hold of him. His beer is getting warm. Everyone is towering over him, he doesn't know many critters his size and regular people tend to just walk over him.

He feels… small. He asks himself why he listened to Girl (her name is still clouded) He's so busy talking to himself in his head that he doesn't notice the yellow critter run out of the garage and straight into him. It's the strangest meet-cute, if he's being honest.

Pim can't remember exactly what Charlie had stolen but there was a little… argument that left the yellow critter fleeing and bumping into him. Pim lays on the floor as a couple of guys ask if he's fine and he rubs his head. At least his nerve didn't get caught on anything. He makes a frightened little cheep as a guy runs out of the garage and yells “FUCK YOU DOMPLER!” The guy looks like he's about to run after him but another hand from the garage grabs his shoulder and tells him to let that “yellow-nose fuck” go. The guy scoffs and retreats back and Pim is still laying on the floor.

Once Pim is up, he brushes himself off and checks his person; phone still on him, no blood anywhere on him but he does see a small smear of it on the floor and–

Wait, blood?

The guys that helped him have already walked off but Pim looks around anyway. Was it this Dompler’s blood? Was he hurt? The anxiety intended for himself shifts to the stranger and he takes it upon himself to find him. Which is easy; there's almost a path set for where the critter has pushed his way through the crowd of people to get outside. Pim readies himself and quickly takes off.

It doesn't take long and a guy almost fell over him but that's about the least disastrous thing that's happened to him at a college party. When he's outside, he looks around. There's plenty of cars parked in front of houses but with the way they're all decorated, Pim assumes it's for a fraternity of sorts. He immediately sees the yellow critter on the curb, near a black car.

Pim gathers his courage and approaches him, “Um, excuse me.”

The yellow critter just freezes, then he slowly turns around. When their eyes meet, Dompler breathes a sigh of relief, “Oh thank God, I thought you were James.” He says, visibly looking more relaxed. There's also smeared blood under his nose.

Pim acts immediately, pulling out a handkerchief, “Oh my goodness! Are you alright?”

“Huh?”

“Your nose!” Pim exclaims. Dompler reaches up to touch his nose and when he retracts his hand back, he just stares at the blood on his hand.

“Huh. Guess that punch wasn’t– is that a fucking Gwimbly II, Twisted Tales shirt?” He asks, pointing at it with the bloody hand.

Pim is taken aback by the question and he looks down, holding the shirt. “Oh! This old thing?” He laughs quietly, “I've had this for years. Have you played all the games?”

From then on, it's a match made on Earth. It's a friendship that, by all accounts, shouldn't work. Charlie is a pessimist, Pim is an optimist; Charlie likes his spice but Pim is a real baby about it; Charlie likes the color fuchsia but he'll kill Pim if he tells anyone so Pim tells everyone that Charlie likes blue and Pim likes red and that's that.

When Pim thinks back, he's glad he met Charlie that night. In a way, Charlie pushes down Pim's barriers and his fears and he manages to convince Pim to do all kinds of stupid things that a nearly-thirty year old should probably not be doing. He brings out a confidence in Pim that he doesn't think quite fits him but when he sees Charlie laugh, when he gets that pat on the back and the classic ‘Didn't know you had it in ya!’ and he praises Pim, a cacophony of butterflies materialize in his stomach. Pim boils it down to the adrenaline of doing something stupid followed by getting away with it so he thinks very little of it. Knows he should, at least.

Maybe that's why, in the bar, after dealing with a crazy carnival caveat and watching his wife get flattened by an elephant, Pim decides that maybe he should let loose tonight. He usually “lets loose” by gazing at the stars with his UFO watching group or having a heated discussion with the book club at the Wilted Flowers Retirement Home but he knows that those are tame. They're safe and they're easy for a small critter like Pim. He's tried other hobbies but everything is just so… big. He's better off being safe.

Pim stares at Charlie, who is already three Jaeger bombs in, as he shit talks his way through a game of pool. They were discussing some of Charlie's other food recommendations but when he saw the pool tables were open, he just couldn't resist. And now, he's going at it with a skinny (albeit handsome) guy with glasses, who stumbles around like he's also three drinks into the night. Pim swallows. Then he sips his beer.

“Oh my God,” A woman’s voice says, “Pinky?”

Pim straightens up at the nickname. It was a semi-famous name for him in college but… no, no, that was at the very edge of the state. It's probably a four, maybe five, hour drive and really, everyone knows you go to college to leave. It doesn't really matter what you're leaving behind honestly, all that matters is that you get out. But when Pim looks around– he's still trying to rationalize that it's not him because who even cares about little Pim Pimling?– his eyes immediately find the face for the voice. It's been over six, seven years maybe, but her face hasn't changed. Maybe she's got snake bite piercings and one cute star earring on her left ear and her hair is now shoulder length but there's no mistake.

“Clarissa!”

Pim knew he would remember her name. He also remembers how nice she was to him. He smiles brightly.

She doesn't give him a second to think, just runs up and takes his hands, “Pink Pimling'!” She laughs. “Oh my God, I thought I recognized you!”

“You remember me?” Pim asks. He's genuinely curious.

“You were the smallest critter in college, how could I not?”

Oh.

There's a brief disappointment that that's what he's remembered for but he smiles back at her. He notices a… rather gorgeous woman behind her and his brain malfunctions; it's not that he came to the bar for a fling, goodness no! It's just… well, he can't help it. She's tall, that's the first thing he immediately sees, black curly hair, piercing brown eyes and a star earring on her right ear. She's wearing a black, tight fitting dress that's right above her knees and… tattoos. Pim has always wanted one, and usually he sees skulls, dragons, scary images on men. But on her, there's colored butterflies going up her leg. A cat tattoo that says “Don't be a pussy!” Is on her arm. Pim is envious. Maybe he wants a butterfly tattoo.

Clarissa laughs, “Eyeing my wife, Pinky?”

Oh. Pim immediately feels his face burn up and he waves that assumption away, “O-Oh, gosh no!” He laughs nervously, “I was- well I didn't, I mean she–” Then he pauses, the words setting in. “Oh my God, your wife ?”

The woman smiles brightly as she holds up her hand. There's a ring on it. Pim can't help it, the nasty feeling of envy looms in his stomach (along with a knot he's been trying to untie) but he's also so happy for her. How can he not be?

Clarissa holds her other hand and gives her a little peck on the cheek. Pim shakes one of her hands with joy, “ Hello Clarissa's wife!” He says, waving his other hand, “It's so nice to meet you!”

Clarissa giggles, “Still just as sweet as cotton candy, aren't you Pinky?”

His face continues to burn and he takes his hands away to drink the beer in front of him. He wants to defend himself, from what he doesn't know, but before he gets a chance to say anything, she stands straight up and looks to the side, “Oh my God, are they done? Hold on Pinky, I gotta show these bitches what a real game of pool is.” She then kisses the black-haired woman on the cheek again, “Get me a drink? Pinky’ll keep you company.”

And then she's off.

The woman laughs but Pim just holds out his hand, “I'm Pim!”

She looks at him as she sits on the barstool and offers her own hand, “Marsha. Buy me a drink?” She asks innocently.

Pim does just that. Doesn't have to but he can't help it. He's nice like that.

He finds out that talking with Marsha is easy; compared to Clarissa's energy, she’s slow, takes her time. She listens quietly to Pim as he talks about some old game he used to play when he was a tadpole, about long forgotten rhymes from middle school. She just smiles at him. Pim thinks she must be bored out of her mind until she asks about his job.

“I work with the Smiling Friends.” He says, taking the beer into his hands again. He doesn't remember asking for a second one. “I'm here with my best friend, Charlie!”

Marsha sits up a little straighter when she hears Charlie's name, “Best friend but he ain't here?” She asks playfully.

“Oh, he's been playing pool.” He points to the back, “Over there– oh, he might be playing against Clarissa right now, actually.”

When she looks at the pool table and she sees her wife, she smiles. Pim sees her eyes scan the other participants– Charlie stands, chugging a can of beer with a pool cue in his other hand, and the guy he was previously playing with– and the smile fades. He sees her place her hand on the table as she squints. For a second, maybe Pim thinks she might be upset. Is Charlie flirting with her wife? Well there was no way for him (or Pim) to know she preferred women and just as he is about to come to Charlie's defense, she scoffs.

“Is that fuckin' Dimples?”

Pim stops thinking. She… knows Charlie? But… his last name isn't Dimples so she can't possibly… When he looks at her though, the way her eyes widen, the way she's so suddenly focused, she must know him. So he asks “Wait, you know Charlie?!”

She laughs, “Charlie Dompler? I went to middle and high school with him!”

“You did?!”

Now, Pim doesn't consider himself weird– not that there's anything wrong with that! It's just, personally, Pim would say he's a very put together person; he keeps his apartment clean, devoid of messes, he makes sure everything gets put away and he makes sure everything has its spot. He knows his cues, or at least does his best to adhere to them because well-put people don't feel a burning jealousy when someone knows his best friend, his best friend who's never mentioned anything about his life as a teenager. His best friend who keeps his walls up and his doors shut, who changes the subject anytime Pim gets dangerously close to talking about his family. His best friend, who Pim never finds out if he's broken up with a girl until it's already been four or five months and he doesn't know until Charlie is making out with another pretty face and he tells Pim, “Jesus dude, relax. Me and her are done, didn't you know?”

Pim never knows.

But he wants to. He feels the knot unfurl in his stomach and it becomes something akin to a circus: there's everything and nothing happening inside him, a clown car spills its’ passengers onto the ground, lions are jumping through flaming hoops, a tightrope walker tiptoes dangerously on the line of his resolve. The music in the bar is loud but Pim feels louder when he asks, “What was he like?”

Marsha stares at him but only for a second. She then smiles and runs her finger along the rim of her nearly empty whiskey glass. Her nails are long but he maintains focus on her eyes. “Ooh, you wanna know?” She asks. She already knows the answer.

By Pim's third beer, he knows he has to call an Uber but he doesn't care. He’s found out more about Charlie from this woman, who he has never met or heard of, than he has in the seven years they've known each other. He finds out Charlie was on the football team in high school for three months before a fight gets him kicked out. He learns Charlie had braces in middle school but they got removed at the end of high school, that Charlie’s senior prank was getting his uncle to haul an old ass truck onto the football field and he rigged it so that when the hood was opened, a fuckton of balloons were set free along with an explosion of glitter. Pim also learns they never find out it's him. Clever Charlie.

But, if Pim is being honest, it feels… scummy to learn all this from a girl he doesn't know. This girl, who claims to know Charlie but could be bullshitting through it all and is about to drop a bombshell which could ruin Charlie's life, she could also be setting up Pim for… well, he doesn't know exactly. Usually pretty girls pull on his nerve and laugh when he yells about it or sometimes, they ask him to dance only to laugh because he's too short and they're always so tall and gosh Pim, why would they dance with you ? Pretty girls don't really like guys like Pim, so he assumes that she might feel the same way, that she might pull his leg about Charlie just to mess with him and then start a lie about him because why not?

What was he talking about again? God, he’s getting drunk.

Marsha just leans on one hand, staring at Pim and holding her glass as night goes on. The conversation of Charlie's middle school antics pause as she drinks the last of her whiskey and then asks “Charlie never told you about that?”

That? He finds himself asking. Well, no because Charlie never tells me anything, I guess. He's not even told me about the senior prank thing because that's funny and usually Charlie tells me stuff like that so it feels strange to learn about all this from a woman he's never even mentioned before. And ya know, Charlie tells me all sorts of things but he’s never talked about any of that. He doesn't ask this or say anything like that though. Instead he says “I guess not.” He then rubs the back of his head, laughing nervously, “Not a good friend, am I?”

“Oh, it's probably not you.” Marsha reassures him. “Dimples has always had a… shit life, I guess?” She shrugs. It's a simple, innocuous little reflex.

Pim thinks it's like sweet, honey water; he's a fly dancing around her, pestering her about a guy she hasn't seen since her teens, but she keeps leaving these traps for. He thinks the conversation could be done but then she drops just a taste of Charlie's past life and he wants to drink it up. He wants to learn everything about Charlie. He needs another drink.

“C-Charlie?” Pim asks, genuinely perplexed, “Charlie doesn't… well, he never really talks about his family or anything before… before we met.” He knows of his famous uncle but…

“Guess I don't blame him.” She sighs again, a dramatic kind of sigh but… sincere too. “Dimples is kinda–”

“Charlie doesn't have dimples.”

He doesn't remember saying it. They stare at each other and Pim thinks he's fucked it. Why did he say that? He thinks she's gonna scrunch up her nose, gonna scoff and say You know better than me ? Someone who grew up with him? What's wrong with you? He doesn't wanna make anyone upset (and gosh, he hates being yelled at) but before his mind can go further into the depths of regret, she smiles.

“When he's kissing you, yeah.”

Marsha looks back at Charlie and Pim feels that ugly jealousy looming over him again. He looks at Charlie too and he sees Clarissa laughing while Charlie seems to be playing rock-paper-scissors with the other guy, with the glasses. Charlie throws a rock and the guy throws scissors and he smiles, throwing his hands up but stumbling just a bit so the guy grabs onto Charlie's shoulders to make sure he doesn't fall. Pim looks back at Marsha, the scene only fueling his envy but he doesn't know why he's envious.

When he sees her still staring at the scene, hand under chin and the other swirling her glass of whiskey (when did her glass get refilled?) and he sees that soft look of longing in her eyes, Pim feels the envy biting at his insides. She's only known Charlie when she was a teen, at best, but she's looking at him so… nicely. Like she could never regret meeting Charlie Dompler. Her face says a million things and they're all good. What's he gotta do to have someone look at him like that?

“S-Sorry for being noisy,” he starts, “but how… how long were you guys together?”

That makes her laugh, “Oh my God, we weren't even together! We only got ‘intimate’–” She holds up visible air quotes, “–once during summer break!”

Pim starts to feel stupid. They weren't even together? “I-I didn't mean to pry!” He tries to defend, “It's just, well– Charlie never– I mean he doesn't not talk about the past but–”

She interrupts, “Oh no, you're fine! It's just, well, we probably shouldn't have been doing that sort of thing when we were that young.” A giggle slips past her lips, “You know how it is. We were great friends and… well, it doesn't need to go further than that, yeah?”

Pim nods. Of course he gets it. He ignores the “when we were young” part and sips his beer again. Oh God, is this the fourth beer? When did he get a fourth one? His vision is blurred, more so than usual, and he has a feeling that if he stood up, he'd probably fall over. But he nods so she knows he understands, even if he's never dated a girl; even if his first kiss was a pity one at the only party he ever went to in school and it was only because of a dumb game of spin-the-bottle, even if the jealousy is clawing at his stomach like a beast demanding to be set free.

“It's like…” She tries to gather the words but she just smacks her lips, “Its like I didn't like him, it's just that my preferences were always… atypical.” Tap of the glass. A clink rings out a couple times.

Pim feels even more stupid now. She wasn't staring at Charlie, she was looking at her wife and Pim feels so, so…foolish. It's why he hides the ugly feelings– they just make him feel worse for nothing. But he doesn't say that, Pim instead says “Because you like women.”

“Guilty as charged!” Marsha laughs again. She's a giggly type of drunk, Pim assumes as she keeps talking. “Charlie was great but I knew the moment we finished, it could never work out. If I can't like ole Dimples that way, then who's left for me, ya know?”

Pim just listens, sipping his (very gross tasting) beer as she goes on, “It's like… I mean, it's probably T.M.I. but it was fine? He was fine, I was fine, it wasn't, like, amazing but it confirmed things, ya know?” Another sip of her whiskey, “But like, everyone knew everyone so it's not I could just tell him that maybe I didn't like guys cuz I was too scared to even think about kissing girls.”

He thinks it makes sense when he thinks about it. Pim knows he grew up in a religious household but… well, some of the Christians Pim knew growing up were kinda, sorta very homophobic. It's sad but Pim understands a little bit more about Charlie.

He thinks he would die.

“What'd you say to him?” He asks. The beer can is empty now but he's holding it tightly, invested in the story.

“Told him my ma would kill him if anyone found out so that did the trick.” She sighs again. “Probably woulda killed me too, if she knew, honestly.”

Pim's imagination wants to go wild. He wants to ask Charlie about everything but knows he'll get nothing from him. The trapeze artists in his chest are using his heart valves to swing around and hit his lungs. They're also making his heart beat pretty fast, obviously. “I don't think he's told me about any of that.” Pim says quietly.

Marsha just stares at him for a second, like she's trying to find the right words for him. She pauses her thinking to ask for a couple glasses of water (one for her wife, he assumes) and she runs her finger around the rim of her empty glass. “Sometimes…” She trails off. Pim looks at her, eyes a teeny bit hooded as the alcohol runs free in his system, and she sighs one last time. “Sometimes talking about bad memories… well, they're too much. I know I don't have a lot of good memories from home. I bet Dimples feels the same; talking about is like, worse, ya know?”

Oh.

Pim feels like an asshole.

He's been sitting here, jealous that this girl knows more about Charlie than he does– he hadn't considered that maybe Charlie wants to forget it all. Maybe he's hours away from home and he wants it like that because maybe his parents were cruel or maybe some schoolmates pestered him into the pessimistic person he is today. And maybe Charlie always shuts down Pim because Pim is sitting here, optimistic as ever and oblivious to the real world, and Charlie is a realist; this is the world. He has to live with it and accept maybe things are shit because that's just how it is: it's shit.

“Oh.” It's all Pim can say. The cigarette smoke in the bar must be giving him a headache cuz he suddenly feels like he needs fresh air. He sets the can down and looks at Marsha, “Can you excuse me? Gotta find a restroom.” He explains. “Watch my stuff?”

Her smile falters, like she feels bad but she shouldn't because Pim is just overreacting (like usual), “I got you. I think it's in the back.” She says, pointing to the corner, where the pool tables are.

He feels the trapeze artists in his stomach making knots of the safety net and he just smiles and nods at Marsha. He jumps off the barstool and is about to be on his way when he notices that it's just Clarissa by herself. He looks around but there's no sign of any yellow critter that looks even close to Charlie. He makes his way to Clarissa, who's smoking a cigarette. His head throbs but he does his best not to breathe in the smoke. He must be stumbling too.

“Clarissa!” He calls out.

She glances around for a second before looking down at Pim and smiling. “What's up, Pinky?”

“Have you seen Charlie? The, uh, yellow critter.” He tries to keep his words from slurring but fuck, he's always been a lightweight (no thanks to his height, that's for sure).

“Oh, I think he went to puke outside.” She says, shaking her head.

Pim's heart is an elevator and he feels the cables breaking. Charlie left?

“Is that so?” He asks, stuffing the hurt down and keeping his voice steady. “I better go check on him then, haha.”

Before Clarissa gets another word in, Pim makes a beeline to the door. He all but bursts through, quickly looking around. His breathing is rushed as he looks at the parking lot and lets a sigh of relief escape him. The car is still parked (thank God) but he knows they're both too intoxicated to drive. He hates the thought of leaving it overnight but he refuses the thought of driving under the influence. Pim glances around but, unfortunately, there's no one outside.

The trapeze artists are using the knots to make even bigger knots as the tightrope walkers fall to their deaths. His heart starts to speed up again. Charlie is way too drunk and so his mind starts to wander as he walks in circles– If Charlie throws up and chokes on his vomit, it will be Pim's fault. If Charlie falls into the street and gets run over, Pim couldn't forgive himself. If Charlie is mugged and killed and he isn't saved this time, he–

Pim covers his mouth. He can't lose Charlie again. The thought of it is bringing tears to his eyes.

Fortunately, for Pim at least, he hears… heavy breathing? He looks around again, trying to take deep breaths and, in the alley beside the bar, he can see two figures holding onto each other. They appear to be making out and while Pim would usually let them be, he has to find out where Charlie is. He runs over to the alley and the sight…

Well, it's something.

In the alley, beside the bar, the moon is bright. It's just enough light that Pim can see that the two figures making out are Charlie and the tall, handsome guy with glasses. Charlie has his hands at his sides and it's like they can't get close enough; they're rubbing each other and the other guys hands are under Charlie's hoodie and–

Pim runs back to the entrance of the bar and presses his back against the wall. He's breathing hard and his heartbeat is running a mile a minute. Did Charlie see him? No, both of their eyes were closed… right?

It takes Pim a minute to process the scene. Charlie is unmistakable but… was he really kissing a guy? He's never really gotten that vibe from Charlie, if he's honest. He's only ever known his friend to kiss women, keeping them on his arms and their lips on his own. Of course, there was that time in the enchanted forest but…

This is… new.

And yet, when Pim thinks about it, maybe it makes sense. Charlie has never told Pim anything and Marsha is an expert on the things Pim's never thought of. She's grown up with him and Pim has mostly had him as a coworker. A guy he met at a party. He knows things from her that he wouldn't have guessed of Charlie. Maybe this is something like that; something only people he trusts can know this.

What kind of friend is he to take these small truths from him without his knowledge? What would Charlie think?

In some scene from an old movie (or maybe a retelling) a line bounces from the screen and infects his head: be the kind of guy you wished had helped ya! Pim can't figure out if it was a silly cartoon or some crazy movie he snuck from his dad's room, before he sold ‘em all, but… it sticks with him. When his mother and father begin fighting, he looks in the mirror and smiles. When school stresses him out or other kids pick on him, he smiles. There's no use thinking of it. Whether he stands still or if he's running for his life from a Rottweiler, time moves the same. He still gets home at five so he doesn't get in trouble.

Time moves, so he moves too.

But. But… maybe Pim's been an awful friend. Maybe he can't be Charlie's best friend, even if Charlie is his best friend. The knots in his stomach cling to his heart and constrict it. He doesn't want it to hurt but not thinking about it seems worse. Saying it would kill him.

He's not Charlie's best friend.

He's not a good friend.

He can't be. He can't be. No, if he were good, Charlie would let him, he'd let him in . He’d be the kind of guy that Charlie can call if he needs help with something. What's it matter that Charlie hates Blue Moon beer and he loves Sex On The Beach but he never orders it for himself so he drinks off Pim’s glass when he orders it. He'll drink the rest of Charlie's Budweiser and it will taste gross but Charlie will have that lopsided smile he gets when he's tipsy so the taste doesn't matter– the sight is enough. What's it matter that he knows Charlie is a beast at dancing because they played Just Dance when they were drunk at his apartment and Charlie made Pim swear to never tell a soul about it? What's it matter that he even makes sure Charlie is inside and tucked in bed? Makes sure his friend is safe and his doors are locked, it's why he's got that extra house key.

What a friend Pim is, thinking of Charlie like that.

But Pim… Pim can be better.

So he decides.

He decides that he's going to be better and help regardless. He decides he'll keep himself at arms length and he'll keep his distance but make sure to… watch Charlie. To keep him safe. He needs to get home because Charlie almost tripped once on the stairs when they first hung out and it's terrified Pim to know his friend could break his neck so easily. Because he's a good friend, he won't let this revelation alter his view of his best friend. His best friend. Nothing more.

His heart is strangled in his chest. He's so goddamn drunk . He needs to go inside and get some water.

Enough fresh air.

Pim drags himself inside and Marsha immediately sees Pim, like she was expecting him. He's surprised she even remembered him.

“Hey, you alright?” She asks, kneeling down to meet his eyes.

Her brown eyes are locked with his and she's so pretty . Charlie was so lucky.

Gyah. His head throbs again with the smoke still. His stomach churns.

“Need water.” He slurs. She's quick to retrieve the water and bring it to Pim. He takes it, swallows and lets it sit. It's cold but God, it's refreshing. His stomach seems to settle at the coolant entering his body and he coughs a teeny bit. He remembers to breathe.

“Oh, that's. That's better.” He confesses, then he hands the glass back to her, “Thank you.”

“Need some help?” She asks. Pim stares at the stool for a brief moment before looking at her. They lock eyes and…

Well, he concedes, “If you don't mind.” He says, rather timidly.

She smiles at him and lifts him up, “Oh wow, you're lighter than I thought.”

“Lotta people say that…” Pim mutters as he sits on the barstool and sighs.

“Four too many?”

“I think I'm just tired.” It's not really a lie, more like… the result of his day. “We've been running around all day honestly.”

“You and Dimples?”

Pim pushes the knot in his chest down back into his stomach so he doesn't puke, “Yes, we work together.” He hadn't mentioned it before?

She stares at him for only a second. Her smile is soft as she speaks. “Thanks for taking care of him.”

“How do you know I take care of him?”

“‘Cuz ya just checked on him, right?”

There it is. His heart is going to be crushed from the circus tent surrounding it and squeezing . He feels it deep but, through it all, he smiles. He hopes the feeling doesn't show on his face, whatever feeling it is. “Of course.” He says, like it's obvious. Like what else could you expect? “He's my best friend.”

Marsha smiles. Pim doesn't realize when his face had flushed so much but it becomes very obvious when she smiles. So pretty. Charlie likes pretty people, he reminds himself. And Charlie himself is pretty so it's obvious he likes pretty people.

So thankfully, Pim is not a pretty person. Thank goodness.

“He doin’ okay?” She asks.

“Just getting some fresh air.” He automatically says. Like he's trying to cover for him. He sees the second glass of water and his stomach churns again. No, he won't. Pim doesn't know why but he's stubborn today. It doesn't happen much. And sometimes, it's only useful for forcing yourself to keep from vomiting when you think of–

Pim stops thinking. He just stares at Marsha the rest of the time. Not today.

Thankfully, Charlie is suddenly behind him (when had he entered the bar again?) and Pim jumps in his seat.

“God, Charlie!” He snaps out. Well, sort of… barks out? It's slurred and not at all threatening. Then he sees Charlie and his anger is… suddenly a fog. It was there in his body but when he sees Charlie, hat almost off, cross-eyed almost, he can't help it. It's sooo funny.

He covers his mouth to keep from laughing. “C-Charlie?” He snickers out.

“Bro, les… bro les go home.” He slurs out. Marsha struggles to hold in a laugh. Any other words are complete gibberish as Pim downs the rest of the water and pays for his tab, “Sorry Marsha, gotta make sure he gets home safe.” He says, making sure his coat is on and his phone on his person.

“Don't be, you were a delight to talk to.” She coos at him. His heart is thumping but he can't let the dam burst. Not yet.

“Hope to see you around!” He says. He hopes she didn't hear the choke at the end of his voice.

“Martha?” Charlie slurs.

He doesn't remember her.

So they stand in the cold February air, at 1:05 A.M. (which Pim knows because they need an Uber and if he weren't drunk, he'd be too tired to drive anyway) and Charlie is puking in the alley.

The man with the glasses is nowhere in sight. Good riddance.

Then he says to Pim.

“Pim, I need your help, man.”

Now, Pim knows Charlie went to Hell. He knows he went on a wacky adventure and won't talk about it. He also knows that must mean God exists. That makes believing in it easy, right? It's a fact, right ? But unfortunately Pim is… not as convinced. He wishes it was sometimes, mostly to simply understand, but he thinks it's not for him. He almost reconsiders when he hears those words.

His friend, Charlie Dompler, man of little known, has asked for help. When has that happened? Was it his promise?

Fuck, he's tearing up.

“Oh Charlie,” he slurs, “I-I– Anything.” He sounds breathless, fuck, he probably sounds desperate but he doesn't care. Charlie is his motherfucking friend . “Anything, Charlie.”

The drive home is a blur. They agreed to get home to talk privately and Pim did not mention the kissing but Charlie also did not mention the kissing so… So he simply doesn't say anything. Charlie can tell him when he's ready. For Charlie's sake.

He doesn't remember getting dropped off but he remembers helping Charlie up the stairs, dragging him up. He laughs at Charlie's welcome mat again because it says "WARNING: GAMER INSIDE" and he's drunk so it's extra funny tonight. Charlie just presses his forehead against the door panel and groans. The body cleanse he had earlier must have been a relief so he's essentially just a tired husk trying to find a bed.

He does remember the conversation afterwards.

“Er, you…” Pim starts when they're inside, flipping the yellowing light on before keeping his hands in his coat pockets. “You said you needed help? With what, exactly?”

Charlie, still very intoxicated, slowly makes his way through the apartment. It's probably a nightly routine of checking the rooms (another thing Pim has never known) but he's fascinated all the same. Then he takes the hoodie off. As he does, Pim does a quick scan of his apartment: it's… gotten worse? He remembers it being messy but it still feels a little excessive. His head snaps back to Charlie when he hears a muttering sound.

“Charlie?” Pim asks. He's standing in front of the doorway of his room. Pim stands by the table to keep balance (God, the weariness in his bones is settling in) but he watches.

Then he starts stripping his clothes off.

“Charlie!” Pim makes a surprised sort of squeak and he quickly rushes Charlie into his room. The yellow critter mutters something about being pushed around in his own home but Pim quickly shuts the door. His face is burning bright red. Right. Charlie does that. He's… funny like that.

Pim lets a smile cover his face and he laughs. He can do this. Charlie is his friend. His best friend. Just Pim being there is enough.

He can do that.

He waits for a bit before he hears the squeak of the bed and he opens the door, “Charlie?” Pim asks, the room dark.

“Hnggg.”

“...Right.”

Pim goes to Charlie's side and brings the blanket up. If Charlie knew, he'd be so embarrassed but Pim likes tucking in Charlie; the smile that covers his face, the satisfied little noise he makes, it…

Pim stops himself and smacks his cheeks lightly. Focus. Or “lock in”, as Charlie says.

“Mmmmm.”

Pim looks at Charlie who's very nearly drowning in blanket (he knew Charlie got cold easily) and pillow. The trapeze act of knots continues on his heart. He has to lock in, God damn it.

“Yes Charlie?” He asks.

“I…” A pause. Pim is standing by him, able to look him into those sleepy eyes. When did Charlie get a stepping stool by his bed? Is it for him?

“I wanna, uh, eat. Like… better.” He says but it's tinged with embarrassment. His face is already orange from the alcoholic heat but it almost appears red as he continues. “Ya know, I got a pacemaker and the doc- doc says I gotta eat better and I know you're a good guy...” He trails off, losing his train of thought. He says it fast too, trying to push it all out. He would probably compare it to grinding teeth, to being the hardest thing he's ever done. He hates it and Pim can see it.

Pim hadn't even known he had a pacemaker.

Lock in.

He puts a hand on Charlie's nose, “And you need help with…” He pauses to think of the right thing to say. “Like for a diet, of sorts?”

It's quiet for just a second too long and Pim starts to feel his heart sink before Charlie catches it for him.

“Yeah. Yeah, somethin' like that. I… I know you got it.” He slurs, “And you're the nicest guy, and-and the coolest fuckin’ nerd and-and funniest– like on God, you're my best friend. And I wanna thank you and ohhh God, I'm so tired.”

He drags out the last word but the whole spiel unties the knots around his heart. He can finally hear it.

“Oh Charlie, I love you.”

The world stops. Pim lets any fear disperse. He loves Charlie. He loves him as everything and even as nothing, just the thought of it is enough for him. But he also loves Charlie as his friend. His potential partner. His road buggy passenger. His second in command when they go to the arcade and play Space Wars V .

It's everything, Pim decides. Why did it take him seven years to realize it?

Charlie, however, is quiet. Then he lifts his head just a teeny bit, “For real, dude?” He asks. Is that hope in his voice?

“Of course. And…” He looks at Charlie. When he sees his eyes, Pim knows he's not all there; Charlie did drink a lot. “And… you're drunk. But I mean it– y-you're my best friend, I care about you. Anything you need, I'm here.” He hopes Charlie remembers this, at least. He hopes Charlie remembers the love and longing in his voice. It might be a stupid wish but… just to see.

If it works, it works. If not, he's an adult. And if he can at least see Charlie smile, then he'll take it.

For Charlie.

The yellow critter just curls up further into the sheets, “Thanks man.” He mumbles, “Thanks man y– ya know, you're the best. Yer the fuckin’ GOAT dude.” Then it turns to gibberish.

Pim can't be disappointed because why would Charlie suddenly blurt out a love confession? And Pim has already made the promise so getting his hopes up like that… Gosh, he's had too much to drink! He stands up, forces his heart back down, and takes a deep breath. He breathes. Blinks away tears in his eyes.

If it works, it works.

But Pim is suddenly full of energy and determination– Charlie wants his help? By God, he's gonna help him. He thinks back to all the times he's visited Charlie. He hates washing dishes but he does know how to use the dishwasher. He must have forgotten to buy the little pods, so he simply gave up. That sounds about right.

So grocery list: pods, and food. Easy food. He starts a list as soon as he gets home, still a little drunk but thinking of all his lazy dishes he has in his head for long days at work. The handwriting is… atrocious, honestly, but it's a rather long list. And he knows Charlie might need super simple recipes because maybe he has bad days and it's anything like Pim's bad days, just walking is a hassle.

But Pim will do it. For Charlie.

He ends up sleeping on the couch at three A.M. and is only woken up from his slumber at five A.M. because he very desperately needs to pee and rushes to the bathroom. He considers trying to sleep back in but when he thinks of Charlie, he feels that motivation again.

For Charlie.

Thankfully, Pim has leftover flashcards for when he had to watch his younger cousins. Which is rare , thank God. He makes the format up on the spot: on the front, the ingredients; the recipe on the back, towards the left and maybe a tiny drawing on the right. Pim has his phone next to him as he searches for simple dishes. He wants them to be good but he wants to ease Charlie into the idea first. Drunk Charlie and Sober Charlie don't get along that well.

When he checks the clock again and he rubs his eyes, strained after writing for so long, he sees it reads 6:57 A.M. and he remembers Charlie.

Realistically, Charlie won't remember. But Pim keeps the night close to his heart. He lets the tightrope walkers parade, lets the lions growl in the spots, lets them run around but he doesn't care. Why care anyway?

Time keeps moving. So does Pim.

—

In the middle of August, Charlie is dying at work. The A.C. is out and the repair guy isnt there yet but fuck , he could use a soda. But he can't because they're out and God, he must be dying. He's melting on the table. It's fuckin’ hot.

Glep sits on his beanbag, fanning himself with a fan that has a pink flower design. Allan and Pim have been tasked with filling the fridge with water and some Gatorade so they don't die but mostly, it's to keep everyone hydrated. It's a slow day, thankfully.

“Asadbomashajs?” Glep asks.

“Have I?” Charlie sits up to look down at himself. His hoodie is draped behind on his chair and his white shirt is stained from the sweat. His stomach still protrudes, “I mean, Pim's been helping me eat better so maybe that's it but, uh, but thanks man.”

Glep lets out a satisfied little noise and continues fanning himself, closing his eyes.

Then the door opens, “ Hello Charlie! Hello Glep!” Pim says, a bag in hand and sweat on his head. Allan trails behind him, his tie wrapped around his head and a case of water bottles in his arm. The scowl on his face speaks volumes of his current feelings.

“You good man?” Charlie smirks, leaning back in his chair. “What, is it hot out?”

“Ha ha.” Allan says dryly, “I am dying of laughter.” He sets the case on the floor, near the fridge, and he starts to put them in. Pim gets in his chair and pulls out the Gatorade, pushing a blue to Charlie and putting a red one in front of him. He takes the pink one to Glep and Allan takes a green one from him.

“Sweet, sweet electrolytes.” Charlie says before starting to chug it.

Pim just smiles at him, “Water is good, too! Don't forget Charlie!”

He only holds a thumbs up and the bottle slowly empties. When the deed is done, he leans back, “Man, fuck this heat.” He gripes, “I'm sweatin’ my tits off here.”

“Not your luscious tits.” Allan deadpans and Pim breaks out laughing with Glep. Charlie just keeps smirking, his hands moving to jiggle his chest. Allan just moves the door, hiding a smile he's trying to fight back. It's a slow day. The coffee machine is off and the fridge is loud but it's got a nice hum to it. Charlie finds comfort in it.

Nightmares have let up too. Maybe it's ‘cuz it's hot out but it doesn't matter now.

“Ya know,” Pim pipes up, “We could all go to the beach on Saturday! It's been so long and it is pretty hot out, whaddya say?”

“Hmm,” Allan closes the fridge and crumples the plastic that was holding the water bottles, “Sand everywhere or chlorine in my eyes…”

“Ugh, beach for me.” Charlie says, “Last time I went, I saw a kid throw up in the pool. I'm good, man.”

Allan scrunches up his nose, “Gross. I'll take my chances with the sand.”

Glep just shrugs, which is good enough for a ‘yes’.

Pim cheers, “Hooray! A beach adventure!”

Charlie can't help but laugh. Just a few months ago, he was throwing up in alleys and letting his days pass him by. He remembers some days as phases: sober and not. And sure, he's had a couple bad days here and there, but he has to admit: he does feel better. According to Glep, he's slimmed down but thinks that's ridiculous. If he were any skinnier, he'd never be able to get rid of a girl.

Such is the life of an alpha male.

The day ends with no calls or wild surprises, so everyone leaves. But Charlie and Pim are walking to his place and Pim is happy with the progress his friend has made.

The first week was hard; he never realized how much he drank until he was five days in. He had snapped at Pim, said something cruel, then stormed out. It simmers in Pim and he starts his breathing exercises. He keeps reminding himself of the situation: Charlie is addicted. He's trying to kick the addiction. He's just grumpy from the withdrawal and Pim happens to be there so naturally, he becomes Charlie's outlet. He understands, he's patient.

Pim is patient and he words hurt, sure, but quitting cold turkey is hard. And he's already buried those awful feelings so much that he can take it. Sure, growing up with his family was… non preferable but Charlie must have it worse. He tells himself this and, even if it is a little selfish, he says it can't be his fault. Not his fault at all.

Time moves on but Pim takes it as it comes.

On the other hand, Charlie feels horribly guilty.

What if that was all Charlie was? Just an alcoholic, stuck in an endless loop of trying to get better, failing, snapping, and doing it all over again? What if he lashes out at Pim, grabs the closest thing and hucks it at him? What if his friends look at him with those same eyes he's seen in the mirror? What if he looked in the mirror one day and saw his dad looking back–

He stops. He can't, no, he won't let that happen. Never.

The fucking cycle ends with him.

But thankfully, Charlie starts to live without drinking a beer everyday after work. He struggles but he learns that not every day is a hard day so he doesn't need to smoke all the time. He comes home, cooks the boxed meals exactly as the directions say and he fucks it up and it's just a teeny bit burned, but Charlie eats it and he lives. He lives because he's alive again, he thinks, and so he tries to be better.

The food thing is hard, he won't lie, only because of how easy it is to just have someone else make the food. He's also liable to burning the simplest of things but in his defense, Charlie is at least trying. He stuck with quick meals for a minute but Pim insisted on helping out. Whether it's helping Charlie pick up his living room or cleaning the kitchen, Pim is there. They hang out more, Charlie realizes.

The thought makes him smile.

“What are we watching today Charlie?” Pim asks, walking alongside him.

“Evil Dead.” He says, smiling, hoodie wrapped around his neck. It’s a bloody film but it's silly, so he thinks Pim can handle it.

“What's it about?”

“These guys get, like, locked in a cabin and they have to survive the night with zombies an’ shit.” Charlie is beaming. “It's a classic man, Bruce Campbell does a– does a great job, ya know?”

Pim simply nods. He doesn't know but he's at least excited to watch it.

At Pim’s house, they get to work. It's a routine for their Fridays now; Charlie gets the popcorn ready, the movie ready, and Pim goes to take a shower ‘cuz he's smelly.

“Sure you're good, Charlie?” He asks from the bedroom, gathering his pajamas. “It was pretty hot so–”

“So I'm sweaty and smelly, yeah yeah.” He waves off Pim, though he knows Pim won't see it, “I'll take a shower at my place, it's not a big deal.” The microwave beeps and he takes the bag, letting it sit on the counter while he fumbles for a bowl.

“If you say so!” Pim calls back. Then the bathroom door clicks and the shower turns on.

It doesn't long for Charlie. He finds the bowl they use and opens the bag, careful so the steam doesn't burn his fingers. Once in the bowl, he pulls out the cheddar cheese topping and drapes the snack in it. There's a part of him that thinks butter would totally make it but he hesitates. At least it's not fast food? He decides a little doesn't hurt and pours some over the popcorn. He covers, shakes the bowl, then tries it.

God. He hasn't had popcorn in a while. It is so fucking good.

He heads over to the couch and sets the bowl down. He loads the movie and stares at the menu. All he needs to do now is wait.

Wait and…

Look, Charlie is no better than any guy out there; if there's someone you like, telling them you like ‘em is probably dead last on the list of things you’d like to do. If he's honest, he can shake off rejection like a champ. Girl snubs him at the bar? Whatever, man. Girl flips her hair at the grocery store? He'll lay off.

But Pim?

He sighs, resting his arms on top of the couch as he leans back. It's not like he's confessing to Pim, God no. He's just… telling Pim like it is. Sometimes he has girlfriends but… well, guys aren't off the table. With how kind Pim is, he can't ignore the feeling of fear and anxiety starting in his head. He doesn't have many close friends but at least he has Pim.

And he's always got his uncle.

When he thinks about it, his uncle has always had Charlie's back. They'd just jump into his truck, start off down a long stretch of road, and talk. His uncle, who hogties pigs and regularly gets into fistfights at the bar, who taught Charlie what it was to be a man– a good man. A better man. He remembers that he used to be afraid of his uncle until they went on a tractor ride, down to the nearest convenience store.

From then on, Charlie knows he’s safe with him.

When Charlie has no one at eighteen, his uncle is there. Big red truck, mud caked on the tires, slurs coming at him from behind as he walks to his uncle's truck. It's dusk but the light hurts his eyes, everything fucking hurts really. It accumulated over the course of his life, the tension with his parents, and it hits the breaking point today. Another harsh remark is thrown.

His parents don't know how much the slurs truly hurt. They want him strong but he's a lover, not a fighter.

His uncle points a finger, says something back, but Charlie is blocking it out. He just opens the passenger door, throws his shit in the back, and pulls the hood up. He pulls the little straps on his hoodie and he closes it, letting his nose stick out. The only thing left of Charlie Dompler. At least he's safe here. No one can call him a fag for crying now.

The driver door opens and his uncle gets in. He slams the door shut. He can hear the rage in the jingling of the keys, the slam of his foot on the gas, the squeak of the tires. They drive to Whitney Houston on the radio.

They drive and his uncle asks him something but Charlie doesn't want to come out yet. It feels like he's going to die. It feels like too much. A hand touches his shoulder instead, “Don't listen to ‘em, Charles.” His uncle says, “I got you.”

From then on, it's just been them. But now it's just Charlie. And maybe…

Well, he thinks, maybe it doesn't have to be like that.

The knot starts to form as the shower turns off. He has no reason to think Pim would even be bothered by it but, well, he supposes he's never even given it a thought himself. People are good at faking smiles, keeping their true selves contained, and he knows it because he does it too. Everything before now has always been behind corners, in the dark hiding so no one would taunt them, or worse.

But he doesn't want that anymore, he thinks.

There's no parents here. There's no group of high school seniors or old ladies that can't mind their business. It's just Charlie. He's an adult. He can handle it now.

…Maybe.

Either way, he takes a deep breath, steadying himself. Then he says a prayer. Despite the self-hating spiel from the beginning of the year, Charlie finds that this part of him can't be why he'll be tortured in the afterlife. His love of men can't be why he's going to Hell. It's just… ridiculous. Why care about something so small? Why give him the ability to love if he can't use it the way he feels? If God truly hated him for it, why save him?

He's been trying to go to church more, mostly for answers. Charlie thinks he’ll burst into flames when he steps foot inside but nothing happens. It's just him and the quiet of the Lord. He remembers being younger, hating church because going so early sucks and he hates the old ladies who always talk shit behind everyone's back. But he doesn't hate God so he seeks refuge with his Grandma, who encourages keeping Him close to your heart.

“I don't have to go to church?” He asks enthusiastically one day. He's been staying with her for two weeks now because he's fifteen and he's so angry all the time that his parents just can't seem to handle him. He's just too much. It's the third time they've skipped out on church but his grandmother is loud, uncaring of such inconveniences.

“Unless you can get the bus to ride all the way out here, ain't no reason to go! Lord's always with ya, ya know?” Then she starts laughing in her rocking chair. “And Sunday is the Lord's day of rest! We shouldn't be doing anything anyway!”

Charlie smiles brightly at her. Still does, when he thinks of her.

And yet, he also pushes down the pain he feels when he thinks of her. She didn't seem… unhappy in Hell? But the thought does sort of upset him, so he's glad when Pim finally emerges from the bathroom.

“Hoo- ray !” Pim says, raising his arms up, “Movie night!”

The knot quickly rushes to his throat. Fuck. Just act cool Charlie.

“Goofy ass.” Charlie says, turning back to the T.V., throat drying up. “Now grab the drinks and get over here man, you're wasting time.”

Pim does just that– a simple Coke for him and a bright looking bottle of… juice? for Charlie– and then he settles next to him. Charlie just starts the movie.

Afterwards.

He'll tell Pim afterwards.

But that doesn't come. Instead, Pim gets a notification on his phone and, in good Pim fashion, taps it quickly to just view it and get on with his night. The camera in the movie pans by fast, crawling on the ground and shaking, like it's searching for something. Charlie tries to focus as the perspective shifts to the group of protagonists but he looks back as Pim gasps. “Oh, Clarissa added me as a friend!” He says suddenly, happily.

“Ooh, old fling?” Charlie jokes, nudging Pim's arm with his elbow.

“Oh gosh, no.” Pim's face flushes slightly, remembering the bar. “No, we met up sort of recently, actually. She's got a lovely wife now, ya know?”

Charlie's stomach starts to twist. Fuck, he didn't plan on this so soon but it's… perfect, right? Like if he's gonna tell Pim, he has to do it now right?

“No shit?” Charlie asks, trying to make it seem like it's the heat getting to him. He takes his shirt collar and pulls on it a couple times, trying to cool down. The group of protagonists, doomed from the moment they enter the T.V. screen, scream as they nearly crash their car. It would have been a better death anyway.

Pim nods and opens his mouth to speak. Then he hesitates, “Y-Yeah. I don't… well you probably don't remember it but it was the last time we went to the bar.” He hopes Charlie can't hear the anxiety in his voice.

Charlie actually conjures up some anxiety of his own. He hates remembering that he can't remember some of those nights. “Oh God, I didn't like, look stupid in front of her, right?” He asks.

“I think she beat you at pool?”

“No way!” The yellow critter laughs. Does he laugh too hard, too much?

“Yes way!”

And then they laugh together. The knot is threatening to choke him out soon.

“Did you meet her wife?” Charlie asks.

Pim stiffens, “Ah. Yes. She was…” Gorgeous. Beautiful. She was your first and she told me so many things about you that you probably don't want me to know. She's told me about how you used to be and I know you kiss men and– “She was stunning. Really pretty. You'd have liked her.” Pim settles on those words instead.

Easy does it, Pim. He locks the cage his ugly feelings are in.

“I mean, maybe.” Charlie says.

He rubs the back of his neck, free hand fidgeting with his phone. Fuck, he's running out of steam. He has to say it now. He doesn't know if he has any courage left in him and he knows it's almost gone anyway, so he needs to tell his best friend. He needs to tell Pim because Pim has dealt with his sorry ass for the last few months, helping and encouraging and keeping Charlie in line, and he owes Pim this much right? To let him in, to lower his walls and bare his soul? He hasn't made it easy, he knows, so he can at least do this, right?

The knot is twisting. It's squeezing his stomach now.

Pim interrupts his thinking, “You okay Charlie? You're looking a little… green?”

Charlie stares at him. He must look pale, like he's about to be sick. Must look like an idiot who's too afraid to even say what he thinks. “I…” Fuck, speak Charlie! He realizes the knot has crawled up and tied his vocal cords together. There's no reason for him to choke up, he's not in the barn or the summer camp or anywhere else. He's here, with Pim; he's safe.

There's no one he would be safer with.

He tries, one last time. Just all at once. Fuck it. “I'm just gonna come out and say it, alright Pim?” He starts, talking fast. “I… I get it. Like– Like I get it, ya know? Like…”

He trails off. God, what the fuck was that?

Pim just looks… lost. “You… get it?”

Charlie gestures to the phone, “No man, I get it. Like–”

“Like, like you like women? I knew that–”

“No!” He snaps. Pim jumps and Charlie wants to jump into oncoming traffic. He hadn't meant to yell like that but the frustration is killing him. “No, no, like– okay, you know how baseball has two teams? And Clara is playing–”

“Clarissa?”

“Shut up– anyway, she's playing for her own team. And I'm playing for my team, ya know? So I get it and that's all– that's what I'm saying, ya know?”

He can tell by the puzzled look on Pim's face that he most certainly does not know.

“...Charlie, I know you like women. Thats–”

“Oh my fucking G– PIM, I’M GAY!” He finally yells out, the exasperation pouring out as he stands up, “Like… well, like not, not completely , but like yeah, I fuckin’ like girls and I fuckin’ love guys! I like big tits on both and I love redhead girls and guys with beards and I'm the kind of guy that has cake and eats it too! I eat out and I eat in! I-I’m–” He chokes up, “--I like both and I… I…”

What has he done?

When he feels something on his cheek and he reaches up to touch it, he's horrified to find he's crying. Charlie quickly turns away.

“Fuck, fuck– I'm sorry Pim, I just– I didn't mean– look, let's just watch– oh my God, it's still playing.” With shaky hands, he reaches out to the table to take the remote.

Pim is faster.

He snatches the remote and holds it to his chest, staring at Charlie. He's standing now but he now has a determined look in his eye. The room goes quiet as the movie gets paused. The characters are invested in the two critters now, their eyes wide and frozen in place. For once, Charlie is unsure of how to proceed– has he misread Pim? No, no, is Pim upset he yelled? That doesn't seem quite right either.

Either way, Charlie is like a statue: stiff, unmoving. He avoids eye contact as he focuses on the T.V. screen, trying desperately to blink the tears away but instead, he thinks he might drown in them. His hand reaches up, clutching his cross.

“Charlie.” Pim says, firm.

Silence. He can't look at Pim.

“Charlie… look at me?”

He gulps.

“Please?”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck – Charlie is gonna puke. He almost feels his stomach trying to push the acid up, into his throat. The knot is the only thing holding it back. Looking at Pim might unfurl it though. It's why he can't.

He feels Pim’s hand on his own. His breathing feels loud, unnecessary. His heart is racing. He's suddenly seventeen again, locked out of the house. He's fucking around, kicking corn stalks in a open field because fuck Old Lady Dolores and her big fucking mouth. He's so angry and confused and the only comfort now is ruining her produce because she likes to spread rumors that are not true and they end up getting his ass beat. When he's done with his fit, he's openly sobbing on the ground, hands clutching his heart and the cross and asking for forgiveness for these sick thoughts.

Does Pim think he's sick too?

Charlie is drowning in these thoughts. But he starts to breathe, get some air into his lungs, when Pim hugs his leg.

“Charlie,” he starts, quietly, “I… I'm so happy you told me that. I'm happy for you.”

The air is thick. Charlie covers his mouth.

“And I know it might be… corny or sappy but I'm so proud of you. It must have been so… so scary for you, right?” The dam breaks, Charlie can't stop tears from pouring out of his eyes, “But even though you were scared, you still did this. You came out to me Charlie, and I want you to know that I love you so much and I'm so… I'm so happy for you.”

Charlie is seventeen. Charlie is twenty-seven. His knees are weak and he's so tired that he can't help it– he falls to his knees. The remains of a corn stalk are crushed by him. Pim steps back just in time and he holds his best friend. He's in a field, holding himself, and begging God to forgive him. He's in Pim's living room and they're hugging and Charlie is sobbing into Pim's shoulder, who holds on so tight that it might even bruise tomorrow.

They both keep living, surviving.

The knot in his stomach does not unfurl. Instead, it sort of… fades. Like a barbell made lightweight. Like the weariness inside him becomes easier to bear and he can finally breathe. He thinks the fights in school should have made him tougher but he's not tougher at all. He's flesh and blood, a living and breathing thing and because he breathes, he cries and because he cries, Pim is quietly reassuring him that he's here and he is loved.

He doesn't think anyone has told him that so sincerely before.

Charlie Dompler thanks God for Pim Pimling.

—

It's midnight and Pim is immediately awoken when Charlie accidentally kicks him out of his own bed. He makes an ‘oof’ sound when he hits the floor but aside from that, it's quiet. He rubs his head and his eyes and then he looks up at his bed.

Charlie is taking up the whole bed, blanket draped over his legs. His hoodie is tossed on the floor and his shoes are kicked off. Pim doesn't remember falling asleep during their talk.

Pim tells Charlie about Marsha. He's honest (to a point) and he laughs when Charlie's face is bright orange, embarrassment clouding his thoughts. He tells Charlie about their talk, what he saw, what he did.

“You made me cry for nothin’!” Charlie half-yells, pushing Pim jokingly.

Pim doesn't think it's for nothing.

He doesn't remember what time they start talking but it's cathartic. He listens to his best friend carefully, taking in every word, every second. It's so, so rare for Charlie to be this open so Pim laps it up, savors it. For every insecurity, flaw, complaint, Pim takes it all. When did he become so obsessed? They've always been friends so why does Pim's chest ache so much?

God, he's thirsty.

He goes to the kitchen, making sure to tiptoe, and retrieves a bottle of water from under the counter. He opens, chugs it, tosses it, then he sits at his kitchen table and lays his head down on it. As much as Pim's body is begging for rest, he takes a moment to admire the quiet. Sometimes, it's nice– people might yell or honk their horns outside but at home, the quiet is comforting. Sometimes, it's suffocating– remembering how he has no one when he gets back home and the only thing waiting is the hush of the apartment walls, well, it hurts.

He jumps, hearing a thud come from his room and a quiet “ fuck ” to accompany it. Pim waves when he sees Charlie standing there.

“Can't sleep?” He asks.

“Was gonna ask you the same thing.” Charlie replies.

Pim just crosses his arms, laying his head on them, “Got thirsty. You're free to sleep on my bed, if you like.”

“Find out I like guys and you're already hitting on me?” Charlie jokes.

Pim is too tired to retort so he shrugs his shoulders.

It's quiet again. He closes his eyes and he hears Charlie slowly padding his way towards him in the dark. He feels sleep trying to take him away but Pim has always been hopeful so he stays awake. Maybe Charlie will pick him up and carry him to bed. Maybe he's bringing a blanket to keep warm. The thought of such a simple yet endearing thing makes his heart thump loudly in his chest.

The footsteps stop in front of him.

“Pim?” Charlie's voice is loud now that he's by Pim.

“Mmm?”

“You still awake?”

Pim opens his eyes and Charlie is kneeling on one knee, now on eye level with him. His chest aches.

“Charlie?"

Charlie just gently places his hands under Pim's face. His thumbs rub his cheeks.

“We on the same team?” He's quiet. So quiet. Pim can feel his breath barely hitting his face and he's suddenly so awake, his heart just won't calm down. When he looks at Charlie's mouth, he can't find a divot or notch. He remembers the night at the bar, envy filling him and turning his stomach. He places his own hands on Charlie's hands.

Are they on the same team? Pim nods.

Marsha was right. He does have dimples.

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yeah this thread is getting stupid

we've already broken page 2 and now we are breaking 3 as well probably

is this rizz chat?

Kiss me, dangerous Been so lost without you all around me Get anxious Lead me, don't look back, it's all about youIn the dark right now Feeling lost, but I like it Comfort in my sins, and all about me All I got right now Feel the taste of resentment Simmer in my skin, it's all aboutBlood stain on my shirt, new bitch on my nerves Old nigga got curved, going back on my word Damn, bitch, you so thirsty Still don't know my worth, still stressing perfection Let you all in my mental, got me looking too desperate Damn, you ain't deserveBroad day, sunshine, I'll find a way to fuck it up still Can't cry about the shit that I can't change Just my mind, gotta get outta here Tough crowd, I hate it, can't stayIn the dark right now Feeling lost, but I like it Comfort in my sins, and all about me All I got right now Feel the taste of resentment Simmer in my skin, it's all aboutBlood stain on my shirt, new bitch on my nerves Old nigga got curved, going back on my word Damn, bitch, you so thirsty Still don't know my worth, still stressing perfection Let you all in my mental, got me looking too desperate DamnIt's what you say and how you do me How I'm 'posed to trust, baby? 'Posed to love? It ain't 'posed to hurt this way, all I need is the best of you How I got to say it? Give me all of youIn the dark right now Feeling lost, but I like it Comfort in my sins, and all about me All I got right now Feel the taste of resentment Simmer in my skin, it's all aboutBlood stain on my shirt, new bitch on my nerves Old nigga got curved, going back on my word Damn, bitch, you so thirsty Still don't know my worth, still stressing perfection Let you all in my mental, got me looking too desperate Damn, you ain't deserveKiss me, dangerous Been so lost without you all around me Get anxious Lead me, don't look back, it's all about youIn the dark right now Feeling lost, but I like it Comfort in my sins, and all about me All I got right now Feel the taste of resentment Simmer in my skin, it's all aboutBlood stain on my shirt, new bitch on my nerves Old nigga got curved, going back on my word Damn, bitch, you so thirsty Still don't know my worth, still stressing perfection Let you all in my mental, got me looking too desperate Damn, you ain't deserveBroad day, sunshine, I'll find a way to fuck it up still Can't cry about the shit that I can't change Just my mind, gotta get outta here Tough crowd, I hate it, can't stayIn the dark right now Feeling lost, but I like it Comfort in my sins, and all about me All I got right now Feel the taste of resentment Simmer in my skin, it's all aboutBlood stain on my shirt, new bitch on my nerves Old nigga got curved, going back on my word Damn, bitch, you so thirsty Still don't know my worth, still stressing perfection Let you all in my mental, got me looking too desperate DamnIt's what you say and how you do me How I'm 'posed to trust, baby? 'Posed to love? It ain't 'posed to hurt this way, all I need is the best of you How I got to say it? Give me all of youIn the dark right now Feeling lost, but I like it Comfort in my sins, and all about me All I got right now Feel the taste of resentment Simmer in my skin, it's all aboutBlood stain on my shirt, new bitch on my nerves Old nigga got curved, going back on my word Damn, bitch, you so thirsty Still don't know my worth, still stressing perfection Let you all in my mental, got me looking too desperate Damn, you ain't deserveKiss me, dangerous Been so lost without you all around me Get anxious Lead me, don't look back, it's all about youIn the dark right now Feeling lost, but I like it Comfort in my sins, and all about me All I got right now Feel the taste of resentment Simmer in my skin, it's all aboutBlood stain on my shirt, new bitch on my nerves Old nigga got curved, going back on my word Damn, bitch, you so thirsty Still don't know my worth, still stressing perfection Let you all in my mental, got me looking too desperate Damn, you ain't deserveBroad day, sunshine, I'll find a way to fuck it up still Can't cry about the shit that I can't change Just my mind, gotta get outta here Tough crowd, I hate it, can't stayIn the dark right now Feeling lost, but I like it Comfort in my sins, and all about me All I got right now Feel the taste of resentment Simmer in my skin, it's all aboutBlood stain on my shirt, new bitch on my nerves Old nigga got curved, going back on my word Damn, bitch, you so thirsty Still don't know my worth, still stressing perfection Let you all in my mental, got me looking too desperate DamnIt's what you say and how you do me How I'm 'posed to trust, baby? 'Posed to love? It ain't 'posed to hurt this way, all I need is the best of you How I got to say it? Give me all of youIn the dark right now Feeling lost, but I like it Comfort in my sins, and all about me All I got right now Feel the taste of resentment Simmer in my skin, it's all aboutBlood stain on my shirt, new bitch on my nerves Old nigga got curved, going back on my word Damn, bitch, you so thirsty Still don't know my worth, still stressing perfection Let you all in my mental, got me looking too desperate Damn, you ain't deserveKiss me, dangerous Been so lost without you all around me Get anxious Lead me, don't look back, it's all about youIn the dark right now Feeling lost, but I like it Comfort in my sins, and all about me All I got right now Feel the taste of resentment Simmer in my skin, it's all aboutBlood stain on my shirt, new bitch on my nerves Old nigga got curved, going back on my word Damn, bitch, you so thirsty Still don't know my worth, still stressing perfection Let you all in my mental, got me looking too desperate Damn, you ain't deserveBroad day, sunshine, I'll find a way to fuck it up still Can't cry about the shit that I can't change Just my mind, gotta get outta here Tough crowd, I hate it, can't stayIn the dark right now Feeling lost, but I like it Comfort in my sins, and all about me All I got right now Feel the taste of resentment Simmer in my skin, it's all aboutBlood stain on my shirt, new bitch on my nerves Old nigga got curved, going back on my word Damn, bitch, you so thirsty Still don't know my worth, still stressing perfection Let you all in my mental, got me looking too desperate DamnIt's what you say and how you do me How I'm 'posed to trust, baby? 'Posed to love? It ain't 'posed to hurt this way, all I need is the best of you How I got to say it? Give me all of youIn the dark right now Feeling lost, but I like it Comfort in my sins, and all about me All I got right now Feel the taste of resentment Simmer in my skin, it's all aboutBlood stain on my shirt, new bitch on my nerves Old nigga got curved, going back on my word Damn, bitch, you so thirsty Still don't know my worth, still stressing perfection Let you all in my mental, got me looking too desperate Damn, you ain't deserveKiss me, dangerous Been so lost without you all around me Get anxious Lead me, don't look back, it's all about youIn the dark right now Feeling lost, but I like it Comfort in my sins, and all about me All I got right now Feel the taste of resentment Simmer in my skin, it's all aboutBlood stain on my shirt, new bitch on my nerves Old nigga got curved, going back on my word Damn, bitch, you so thirsty Still don't know my worth, still stressing perfection Let you all in my mental, got me looking too desperate Damn, you ain't deserveBroad day, sunshine, I'll find a way to fuck it up still Can't cry about the shit that I can't change Just my mind, gotta get outta here Tough crowd, I hate it, can't stayIn the dark right now Feeling lost, but I like it Comfort in my sins, and all about me All I got right now Feel the taste of resentment Simmer in my skin, it's all aboutBlood stain on my shirt, new bitch on my nerves Old nigga got curved, going back on my word Damn, bitch, you so thirsty Still don't know my worth, still stressing perfection Let you all in my mental, got me looking too desperate DamnIt's what you say and how you do me How I'm 'posed to trust, baby? 'Posed to love? It ain't 'posed to hurt this way, all I need is the best of you How I got to say it? Give me all of youIn the dark right now Feeling lost, but I like it Comfort in my sins, and all about me All I got right now Feel the taste of resentment Simmer in my skin, it's all aboutBlood stain on my shirt, new bitch on my nerves Old nigga got curved, going back on my word Damn, bitch, you so thirsty Still don't know my worth, still stressing perfection Let you all in my mental, got me looking too desperate Damn, you ain't deserveKiss me, dangerous Been so lost without you all around me Get anxious Lead me, don't look back, it's all about youIn the dark right now Feeling lost, but I like it Comfort in my sins, and all about me All I got right now Feel the taste of resentment Simmer in my skin, it's all aboutBlood stain on my shirt, new bitch on my nerves Old nigga got curved, going back on my word Damn, bitch, you so thirsty Still don't know my worth, still stressing perfection Let you all in my mental, got me looking too desperate Damn, you ain't deserveBroad day, sunshine, I'll find a way to fuck it up still Can't cry about the shit that I can't change Just my mind, gotta get outta here Tough crowd, I hate it, can't stayIn the dark right now Feeling lost, but I like it Comfort in my sins, and all about me All I got right now Feel the taste of resentment Simmer in my skin, it's all aboutBlood stain on my shirt, new bitch on my nerves Old nigga got curved, going back on my word Damn, bitch, you so thirsty Still don't know my worth, still stressing perfection Let you all in my mental, got me looking too desperate DamnIt's what you say and how you do me How I'm 'posed to trust, baby? 'Posed to love? It ain't 'posed to hurt this way, all I need is the best of you How I got to say it? Give me all of youIn the dark right now Feeling lost, but I like it Comfort in my sins, and all about me All I got right now Feel the taste of resentment Simmer in my skin, it's all aboutBlood stain on my shirt, new bitch on my nerves Old nigga got curved, going back on my word Damn, bitch, you so thirsty Still don't know my worth, still stressing perfection Let you all in my mental, got me looking too desperate Damn, you ain't deserveKiss me, dangerous Been so lost without you all around me Get anxious Lead me, don't look back, it's all about youIn the dark right now Feeling lost, but I like it Comfort in my sins, and all about me All I got right now Feel the taste of resentment Simmer in my skin, it's all aboutBlood stain on my shirt, new bitch on my nerves Old nigga got curved, going back on my word Damn, bitch, you so thirsty Still don't know my worth, still stressing perfection Let you all in my mental, got me looking too desperate Damn, you ain't deserveBroad day, sunshine, I'll find a way to fuck it up still Can't cry about the shit that I can't change Just my mind, gotta get outta here Tough crowd, I hate it, can't stayIn the dark right now Feeling lost, but I like it Comfort in my sins, and all about me All I got right now Feel the taste of resentment Simmer in my skin, it's all aboutBlood stain on my shirt, new bitch on my nerves Old nigga got curved, going back on my word Damn, bitch, you so thirsty Still don't know my worth, still stressing perfection Let you all in my mental, got me looking too desperate DamnIt's what you say and how you do me How I'm 'posed to trust, baby? 'Posed to love? It ain't 'posed to hurt this way, all I need is the best of you How I got to say it? Give me all of youIn the dark right now Feeling lost, but I like it Comfort in my sins, and all about me All I got right now Feel the taste of resentment Simmer in my skin, it's all aboutBlood stain on my shirt, new bitch on my nerves Old nigga got curved, going back on my word Damn, bitch, you so thirsty Still don't know my worth, still stressing perfection Let you all in my mental, got me looking too desperate Damn, you ain't deserveKiss me, dangerous Been so lost without you all around me Get anxious Lead me, don't look back, it's all about youIn the dark right now Feeling lost, but I like it Comfort in my sins, and all about me All I got right now Feel the taste of resentment Simmer in my skin, it's all aboutBlood stain on my shirt, new bitch on my nerves Old nigga got curved, going back on my word Damn, bitch, you so thirsty Still don't know my worth, still stressing perfection Let you all in my mental, got me looking too desperate Damn, you ain't deserveBroad day, sunshine, I'll find a way to fuck it up still Can't cry about the shit that I can't change Just my mind, gotta get outta here Tough crowd, I hate it, can't stayIn the dark right now Feeling lost, but I like it Comfort in my sins, and all about me All I got right now Feel the taste of resentment Simmer in my skin, it's all aboutBlood stain on my shirt, new bitch on my nerves Old nigga got curved, going back on my word Damn, bitch, you so thirsty Still don't know my worth, still stressing perfection Let you all in my mental, got me looking too desperate DamnIt's what you say and how you do me How I'm 'posed to trust, baby? 'Posed to love? It ain't 'posed to hurt this way, all I need is the best of you How I got to say it? Give me all of youIn the dark right now Feeling lost, but I like it Comfort in my sins, and all about me All I got right now Feel the taste of resentment Simmer in my skin, it's all aboutBlood stain on my shirt, new bitch on my nerves Old nigga got curved, going back on my word Damn, bitch, you so thirsty Still don't know my worth, still stressing perfection Let you all in my mental, got me looking too desperate Damn, you ain't deserve

Kiss me, dangerous Been so lost without you all around me Get anxious Lead me, don't look back, it's all about youIn the dark right now Feeling lost, but I like it Comfort in my sins, and all about me All I got right now Feel the taste of resentment Simmer in my skin, it's all aboutBlood stain on my shirt, new bitch on my nerves Old nigga got curved, going back on my word Damn, bitch, you so thirsty Still don't know my worth, still stressing perfection Let you all in my mental, got me looking too desperate Damn, you ain't deserveBroad day, sunshine, I'll find a way to fuck it up still Can't cry about the shit that I can't change Just my mind, gotta get outta here Tough crowd, I hate it, can't stayIn the dark right now Feeling lost, but I like it Comfort in my sins, and all about me All I got right now Feel the taste of resentment Simmer in my skin, it's all aboutBlood stain on my shirt, new bitch on my nerves Old nigga got curved, going back on my word Damn, bitch, you so thirsty Still don't know my worth, still stressing perfection Let you all in my mental, got me looking too desperate DamnIt's what you say and how you do me How I'm 'posed to trust, baby? 'Posed to love? It ain't 'posed to hurt this way, all I need is the best of you How I got to say it? Give me all of youIn the dark right now Feeling lost, but I like it Comfort in my sins, and all about me All I got right now Feel the taste of resentment Simmer in my skin, it's all aboutBlood stain on my shirt, new bitch on my nerves Old nigga got curved, going back on my word Damn, bitch, you so thirsty Still don't know my worth, still stressing perfection Let you all in my mental, got me looking too desperate Damn, you ain't deserve

@pengu101

page 2 was Supergamer's fault

lol

lol

lol

lol

pengu101

somerset England

pengu blue

pengu is now blue

red-yellow is dead

zanum is now

page 2 was Supergamer's fault

I just did what I was supposed to do lol