“Yes,” Charlie answers. “What does that have to do with this?”
“You cried, Charlie. I’ll never forget choking on salt water, coming back to consciousness with that taste of bile and the sea in my mouth and the sight of your face. You were hysterical.”
“Well, yeah, my favorite person in the whole world almost fucking drowned.” Charlie wraps himself around Andrew as if he can physically keep the memory at bay.
“Jason and Theo were so quiet, but you were sobbing, and Alec’s little face was as terrified as yours. He tried to reach for me, but Jason held him back, and then you fell to the sand wailing.” Andrew tries to breathe in deep, but he’s too congestedand ends up coughing. Charlie is surprisingly quiet, patient even, waiting for Andrew to speak again. “It was horrible.”
“I can’t imagine almost drowning.”
“Not that,” Andrew says. “I mean, yes, but—making you all worry. For a while, I wished they hadn’t saved me because the guilt was almost more than I could handle.”
“Why the fuck would you feel guilty for almost dying?” Charlie’s hold on Andrew verges on painful.
“Because I was reckless. I knew better than to accept your dare. It was my job to keepyouin line. I’m the oldest. I was the one who watched out for you, for Jason and Theo and Alec. It was my job to be responsible.”
“We were fourteen, Annie. You were a kid.”
“I knew better. I knew better, and I made everyone worry, and I hated it. The guilt was suffocating. I’d wake up from nightmares, and you all thought it was because of almost dying, but it was because of the living part—waking up every day knowing I disappointed you all.”
“No,” Charlie interrupts, voice like venom. “No.”
“I did,” Andrew says, wishing he could stop the silent tears. He doesn’t want them. They’re going to make his nose run, and his head hurt more. He doesn’t want to say this, but after living with it for so long, there’s a release too, like pushing on a wound that hurts—the sharp pain almost a relief in a strange way. “I promised myself I’d never do that again. You guys needed me that day, and I let you down. I decided after that I’d make sure it didn’t happen again.”
“Fucking damnit, Annie.” Charlie is definitely crying which makes Andrew cry harder.
God, Andrew hates being sick. He’s definitely blaming all of this on his illness. He hates crying, and he hates being vulnerable, and he hates upsetting Charlie, yet somehow he’s doing all three.
“I’m sorry,” Andrew whispers.
“Don’t you dare apologize. I should’ve known. I should’ve fucking known. You started pulling away, but I thought—you’d get overwhelmed so easily. I thought I was helping. After Alec was diagnosed with ADHD it wasn’t that many years before we realized you were autistic, I thought—I thought I was too much. I know I’m a lot. I can’t imagine needing routine and order and being stuck with me.”
“I like being stuck with you,” Andrew interjects, unable to imagine his life with anyone but Charlie. His beautiful, bright, pain in the fucking ass twin.
“It can’t have been easy though, and I thought—I thought maybe it was helping you to have that time alone when things were too much. And all this time you thought—fuck.”
“Please don’t blame yourself, or I’m going to feel worse. It’s my fault.”
“No, it’s my fault.”
“It’s both of your fault because despite being relatively well-adjusted adult men, you’re both fucking idiots,” Eden says, standing in the living room carrying a tray with a steaming bowl of something that smells achingly familiar. “I madesopita de fideo.”
“I don’t have stuff for that,” Andrew says, wiping his nose on the back of the sleeve of Nicki’s hoodie he borrowed.
“All the ingredients were at Charlie’s place already. I didn’t have time to make it from scratch, but I thought—well, Charlie told me once yourabuelaused to make it when you were little when you wouldn’t eat anything else. It won’t taste like hers, it’s literally just that tomato chicken bouillon that Alec uses when he makes rice and somefideobut—,” Eden shrugs, trailing off like remembering Andrew’s favorite childhood safe food and making it when he’s sick isn’t one of the kindest things he could do.
“Thank you, Eden.”
“Also, fuck you for making me agree with Nicholas.” Eden groans, lowering the tray with thesopitaonto the coffee table. “He told us you don’t take care of yourself so we have to, and then I agreed with him. I’m never going to live this down, Andrew.”
“If you ever make me agree with Nicholas we’re done for,” Charlie pipes up.
“Liar,” Andrew laughs, which turns into a coughing fit that ends up half-knocking Charlie off the couch.
“I can move,” Andrew says once he’s finished coughing, realizing Charlie is now hanging off the back of the couch and there’s not enough room for Eden.
“See,” Eden says, making an exasperated face at Charlie. “He’s sick, and he’s trying to move for us. Fucking ridiculous.”
“I think that’s just how he’s wired,” Charlie tells Eden before turning his attention to Andrew to help him into a sitting position, half-leaning against Charlie’s shoulder. “But don’t think we’re gonna let you get away with this shit anymore. Not now that we know.”
