Pick Me Up
Bill looks from his broken arm to the pained expression on his younger brother’s face. This is one of the few times Bill has felt like the younger brother: weak and shaking in fear of something. Only he doesn’t have older siblings to comfort him. He has Charlie. Charlie, who looks more manly than he does with his features that are bordering on androgynous. He’s slightly jealous of that.
“Bill…I…”
Bill’s bottom lip quivers slightly and he’s irrationally pissed off at it for doing so. “You said you’d make sure I didn’t fall.” His voice is shaking and he hates it for not being strong, for his not being the older brother and being strong because now Charlie looks absolutely crestfallen. It’s not what he meant to do.
“I’m sorry, Billy,” comes the almost inaudible reply.
Bill pulls himself off the ground and walks towards the house, grabbing for Charlie’s hand and walking inside. Molly scolds them both soundly before fixing Bill’s arm and sending them both off to their room. Bill doesn’t argue and Charlie looks like someone’s punched him in the gut and stolen his broomstick. Bill feels guilty.
Neither of them speak for what seems like eternity before Charlie’s mouth opens and pours out apologies and, “Please don’t be mad at me, Billy. I didn’t mean to. I tried to get you. Please please please still love me. Don’t hate me.”
The last part leaves Bill in a state of shocked silence. “Hate you?” He gets up and moves quickly over to Charlie’s bed, sitting gingerly on the edge. “How in all of Merlin’s great insanity did you come to that conclusion?”
Charlie’s face is red with embarrassment, ears nearly the same color as his hair. “You got hurt and I promised to keep you safe and I didn’t do it right and now you…” He looks down, chewing on his lip: a habit Bill blames on himself. “You’ll never forgive me or trust me ever again,” he says despairingly.
Bill almost laughs but bites it back before it can get out. “Oh, Charlie. Such a drama queen. Of course I’ll forgive you and trust you. I may not trust brooms, however,” he jokes lightly. “And I don’t hate you. Not for a second.”
That’s all Charlie needs before he’s practically attached to Bill’s side, nuzzling against him. Then he’s pushed down on the bed, head in Charlie’s lap while his younger brother plays idly with his hair. “Never cut your hair, will you, Billy? I like it this long.”
Bill smiles quietly and nods. “As long as Mum allows it.”
“I’ll cut her hair if she dares try to cut yours.” Charlie, Bill notes, is the only reason why he likes to keep his hair long. He promised he’d keep it long because Charlie liked it and that’s a good enough reason for him.