“Hey, hey, what? What's wrong?” Carlos asks, keeping his voice even and calm. It's admittedly a bit hard, seeing as Ché was usually more stoic than the goddamn statue of liberty, resorting to seething anger or indifference whenever confronted with.. Anything really. The last time he'd seen her even tear up was at that stupid Beetoven dog movie. Even then, she wiped her tears quickly, clearing her throat to hide any sniffles, which he thought was a little funny at the time.
“I don’t know! I don’t fucking know, okay? Fuck!” She says, a sharp irritation in her voice that gives way to something more vulnerable as she buries her head in her hands, breathing heavily as she tries to hold back sobs.
Carlos tentatively crouches down in front of her, sitting on the dirty cement beside her. He vaguely curses himself for wearing white pants, but can’t bring himself to care all that much. He sits in silence for a few moments, trying to think of the best course of action. He takes a deep breath, then reaches for her hand. She doesn’t pull away, but her hand stays limp in his. He places another hand on it, clasping her limp fingers in his.
“You don’t have to say anything.”
Ché sighs, shaking her head before bringing it up to look at him.
“You… ugh. God.” She begins, sighing in frustration as she tries to find the right words. Carlos watches her, pursing his lips impatiently.
“I..” She begins again, nails of her free hand digging into her knee. “I feel like a fucking charity case when you do this.”
Carlos frowns and feels his mouth open in indignation. “What?”
She snatches her hand out of his abruptly, crossing her arms over her knees. “I know you think you’re doing a good thing here, being friends with me. You know, a little pet project you can work on whenever you wanna feel all cool and altruistic and shit.”
“Ché.” He says, suddenly deadly serious. It makes her pause long enough for him to interject.
“I’m not falling for this. This.. thing you’re trying to pull, I know what it is.”
“You-“ She tries to interject.
“No, no. Ché, I swear to God. I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel that way, I truly am, but you can’t just decide you want to run from me.”
Her frown only deepens, her lips pursed as words begin to die on her tongue.
“You think you know me, don’t you?” She says, quietly.
“Have you ever considered that maybe I do? Maybe not everything, but enough.”
She doesn’t respond.
Carlos sighs, dragging an exasperated hand down his face.
“Are you afraid of that? Afraid I’m gonna wake up one day knowing you and hating you, is that it?” He says, sharper than intended.
“Shut the fuck up, shut up, stop acting like you’re some fucking psychologist-“ The tears flow freely now, dripping down her chin. She turns away.
“I don’t have to be a fucking psychologist to notice your self destructive shit, Ché.” He seems to cringe at the words as soon as they leave his mouth, his hand coming up to slap over his mouth. “I-I didn’t mean-“
She shakes her head and sighs. “No, no, you’re right.”
The air is thick with the apologies threatening to spill off of Carlos’ tongue, but incredibly, he manages to refrain. He lets silence cover them both like a suffocating blanket. Ché is the first to cut through it.
“I’m.. sorry. For whatever that’s worth.” She says, sounding much smaller than usual.
“Thanks.” Carlos says, trying to hammer at his brain internally, searching for the perfect thing to say.
“I’m fucked up, thouroughly. Horribly. I just.. ruin a lot of the relationships I have with people. And I’m not trying to be like ‘Oh, it’s not my fault, I’m just like that!’ But.. it’s just easier to not.. do it at all, I guess.”
“Ché-“
She pinches the bridge of her nose and groans, wiping her tear stained cheeks harshly.
“I’m sorry, I just don’t know what to do with.. this. With you. Fuck.”
Ché almost flinches when she feels arms enveloping her, she should, really. But she doesn’t.
“You wanna know something really fucked up?” He says, his voice half joking. Ché nods tentatively.
“You’re like, my best friend in the world.”
He feels Ché soften at his words, trying to pull away to look at him. He holds her tight, trying to avoid her seeing the tears pooling in his eyes.
“I love you, I hope that’s not too much.” He says, his voice barely above a whisper.
She can feel him getting increasingly tense the longer she delays responding. It’s slightly panic inducing and calming all at once.
“Thank you. I know it’s..hard.”
He finally pulls away, a watery smile greeting her.
“Not at all.”