Page 123 of Break the Rule
“Then take pity on me and let me rot,” Charlie grumbles.
“No.” Andrew’s firm voice returns. “Shower. Shave. Put on clothes, or at least boxers, and then come out. Alec’s making breakfast.”
“Fine,” Charlie grits out.
“Good.” Andrew gives him a shove into the adjoining bathroom, pulling the door shut before he can try to escape. Not that he’d bother, knowing Andrew would simply force him get back in here.
Cursing under his breath, Charlie steps into the shower, turns the faucet on high and moves beneath the spray of water. It’s ice cold, and he curses louder, but doesn’t bother moving out of the spray while he waits for it to warm up, relishing in the shock to his system. Eventually, the water warms, but Charlie still doesn’t move, frozen beneath the spray as it belts down onto his head. The fact he does feel moderately better after being smelly and sweaty only makes him crankier. Fucking Andrew always being right.
Part of him wants to avoid using soap to spite Andrew, but knowing his brother, he’d probably march Charlie back into the goddamn shower. Grabbing his loofah, he squeezes a generous amount of his favorite apricot body wash and scrubs himself clean, refusing to acknowledge how damn good it feels to be clean after not showering for a week.
Deciding there’s no harm in acknowledging how right Andrew is, at least to himself, he scrubs his hair vigorously before getting out and deciding to go the full nine yards and shave as well. By the time he’s dry and dressed in a pair of boxers and a clean—albeit paint-stained t-shirt—and shuffling towardsthe kitchen, he has to grudgingly admit Andrew was right. He does feel better, smooth and clean and out of his bed. Fucking Andrew.
His mood is lifted more when he picks up on the scent of frying butter and what smells very much like pancakes. His suspicions about what Alec is cooking are confirmed when he makes his way into the kitchen and is met with the sight of Alec at the stove frying up a huge stack of Charlie’s favorite blueberry pancakes. On the kitchen island is a pink box of donuts Jason and Theo have clearly already raided, along with a huge bowl of fruit salad, a cooling rack covered in scones, and a massive pile of what smells like breakfast burritos already individually wrapped in foil.
“Sit down,” Alec says, shoving a huge plate of pancakes in front of Charlie.
“What’s all this?” Charlie asks, pointing to the rest of the food.
“I’m meal-prepping you food since you apparently can’t fucking take care of yourself.”
Unlike Andrew, whose tone was firm but kind, Alec’s is sharp. Whether it’s because Charlie ignored his texts and calls all week or because he kept Eden a secret remains to be seen. Knowing Alec, probably both. His rejection sensitive dysphoria has always been bad, which is why Charlie usually tries not to dick around with his baby brother’s feelings. Enough people have done that before. Charlie was supposed to be the one person who didn’t hurt him.
Turns out Charlie hurts all kinds of people without trying. Alec. Andrew. He still can’t believe he invited that dickhead Zach. Had he realized what he had done to Andrew in high school, he would’ve cut him out the next day, exactly why Andrew claims he never told Charlie. He wishes Andrew understood he was worth it. Not that he’s apparently very goodat showing the people he cares about that they’re important, judging by the fact that his boyfriend broke up with him, and he hurt two out of three of his brothers, albeit inadvertently.
“Alec,” Charlie sighs.
Alec’s expression falls, the hurt more pronounced than the anger and twice as painful. “Eat your fucking pancakes.”
Shoving his mouth full of enough food he won’t be able to speak and fuck anything else up, Charlie chews while watching Alec sauté something on the stove before flipping the burner off and pulling something else out of the oven. He doesn’t risk asking what it is, but based on the cheese bubbling on top and the scent of chiles, it’s something Charlie will very much enjoy later. You can’t go wrong with any food that’s got cheese, tortillas, and chiles in it.
By the time Charlie finishes his stack of pancakes and a plate of fruit, Alec has filled several individual containers with the casserole he made and supplied Charlie with a cup of perfectly brewed coffee.
“Where’s Andrew?” Charlie dares to ask, hoping he doesn’t get his head bitten off.
“He went out front to take a phone call,” Alec replies, tone clipped as he sets a massive skillet on the kitchen island. The sight of freshly sautéednopalitoshas Charlie’s stomach grumbling despite his full belly. To his delight, Alec scoops a generous amount into each of the meal-prep containers.
“Thank you.”
“Andrew made me,” he says, shoulders hunched.
“How long are you going to be mad at me, Ally?”
“Would you have told me about Eden if you weren’t forced?” He challenges.
“I don’t know,” Charlie answers honestly. “Yes, eventually. I just wasn’t ready.”
Alec stops bustling around the kitchen, turning his gaze on Charlie. “Why?”
“Because he’s…special. I think—” Charlie pauses, the weight of the truth heavy. “I think I’m in love with him.”
He waits for Alec to snap or yell, unprepared for him to come around the kitchen island and slam into Charlie with such force he nearly knocks him off his stool.
“You’re such a dumb fuck, Charlie.”
“I know.” Charlie wraps his arms around Alec, trying not to cry as his baby brother hugs him tight.
“Do you understand now?” Alec whispers, squeezing tightly.
