Page 102 of Break the Rule
“Annie.”
Andrew grabs his wallet and keys off the edge of the kitchen island. Before he can leave, Charlie grabs onto him and holds on tightly. There’s a second where Andrew doesn’t move, before he returns the embrace, his hug solidifying something in Charlie.
He knows Andrew is probably mad at him, making guilt gnaw its way up Charlie’s spine. Andrew is right, he should’ve told Alec, but the prospect of Alec being mad at him—even deservingly so—was something he couldn’t handle. He’s always been Alec’s hero, his safe space, and the idea of falling down off the pedestal his baby brother put him on a long time ago is something Charlie can hardly bear to imagine.
“Don’t be mad at me,” Charlie whispers.
It’s pathetic since Charlie deserves Andrew’s ire, and will deserve Alec’s too, but the idea of the people he loves most in the world being mad at him makes Charlie feel sick.
“I love you,” Andrew says, and it’s not ‘I’m not mad at you,’but it’s enough for Charlie to exhale the breath he’s holding.
Slowly but surely, Andrew returns the embrace, and Charlie sags into it. He sometimes wonders how other people cope living life alone, not having a twin who shares not only your DNA but a piece of your heart. Even now, when Charlie’s being a shithead, and Andrew needs time apart, he knows Andrew loves him. He’s always known, and something about that unconditional support—of knowing the one person who shares everything with him will always be there—has always made it easier for Charlie to be himself.
“Will you come over early tomorrow?” Charlie asks.
“Obviously,” Andrew answers.
Charlie loosens the embrace, letting Andrew take a step back. “Can I call you from the grocery store?”
“No,” Andrew replies, the quirk of his lip making Charlie smile.
“Please.”
“I’m turning my phone off.”
“You wouldn’t be able to cope, worrying if someone needed you.”
Andrew flips him off, walking backwards to the door. “Fine, it’ll be on silent. Don’t call me unless it’s an emergency. A real one, Charlie.”
“Fine,” Charlie sighs. “I mean it’s only grocery shopping. How hard could it be?”
Andrew's resounding laughter stays with him, echoing in his head once he’s standing in the middle of said grocery store pushing a mostly empty shopping cart and frowning at the ransacked shelves.
“Do people not eat any time besides Thanksgiving?” Charlie mutters to himself, wondering how the fuck all the food can disappear in one goddamn day.
Somehow, Charlie has nothing that is on his list besides the beer, but he does have a cart filled with various chips and crackers and a few candy bars. Andrew was right, he should’ve eaten before he came because walking around hungry has led to Charlie adding anything that looks vaguely good. Luckily, he’s made it through the snack and sweets aisles and into the one with breadcrumbs. Unfortunately for Charlie, the only thing he wrote down was breadcrumbs, not realizing how many fuckingkinds there were. There are two completely empty spots on the shelf, leaving Charlie to pick between Italian breadcrumbs, panko breadcrumbs or gluten-free breadcrumbs. He knows they don’t need gluten-free, so he ends up grabbing both panko and Italian breadcrumbs, unsure which one Alec will need and not wanting to chance it.
Things don’t get easier from there because the next item on his list is butter. There are at least a dozen brands, and each brand has different kinds—regular, organic, plant-based, margarine, spreadable, whipped, salted, unsalted, grass fed, European, sweet cream, Irish, and even herb butter. If Charlie didn’t know better, he’d swear someone was playing a prank on him. Why in the hell are there so many kinds of butter? Surely they can’t be that different. Does this constitute an emergency? It feels like it.
Pulling his phone out, he stares at his recently called, noting that all of them are Andrew or Eden. Eden might know, but Charlie isn’t sure he wants Eden to see him in this particular moment of distress and taps Andrew’s name, about to call when he stops himself. Andrew is probably relaxing, the last thing he needs tonight is Charlie bugging him about butter. Charlie can figure this out. Maybe.
Five minutes later, the only thing Charlie has figured out for sure is that butter is overpriced, and the internet's opinion on which one is the best varies wildly. It also apparently depends on what the butter is being used for, but Charlie has no clue. He’s pretty sure Alec uses it in almost everything.
Holding a horribly overpriced foil-wrapped block of organic butter in one hand and a cardboard package of store brand in the other, Charlie decides that grocery shopping is one of the worst things he’s ever experienced. He promises himself to hug Andrew extra tight next time he delivers Charlie’s groceries. He ends up tossing in several kinds of butter including salted,unsalted, whipped and a half-priced turkey-shaped butter for shits and giggles.
Finishing the rest of the list proves to be a lesson in patience because there are absolutely no fresh cranberries, and when the employee directs Charlie to the canned variety, he has to choose between a can of what looks like jello and something that makes a sloshing noise when he shakes it. Again he buys both, pretty sure he’s never going to be put on shopping duty again.
He’s trying to figure out what the fuck nutritional yeast is when his name is yelled.
“Charlie King, is that you?”
Charlie’s eyes dart down the aisle to a lone figure. Tall, brown hair, and piercing green eyes. It’s been a long time since Charlie last saw him, but he’d recognize him anywhere—one of his best friends from high school.
“Zach?”
Zach strides down the aisle, lowering his hand basket before pulling Charlie into a hug and clapping him on the back. “It’s good to see you, man.”
“You too, I didn’t realize you were back in town?”
