He tries to find a clear thought, a clear emotion, a clear string of words, and offer it to Dev. He wants to find a way to make Dev understand. “Two months ago, I came on this show believing I wasn’t worthy of love, and now you want to know if I’ve thought about marriage and kids? Dev, I haven’t. I never thought any of those things were an option for me. I’m not saying they aren’t—I’m just saying I don’t know right now. I need time to figure myself out.”
Dev looks down at him, pushes his glasses up his nose with two fingers. “I don’t want time, Charlie. I want to walk away before we both get hurt.”
“I’m already hurt.”
“Charlie.”
“Dev…” He reaches out in the only way he knows how, in the only way he has left. “I love you.”
Charlie expects to feel better once he’s said it. Instead he feels naked and exposed on the bed. He’s handed Dev something delicate, and Dev’s got this look in his eyes like he might smash it just to see what happens.
“You don’t love me.”
“Don’t tell me how I feel. I love you.”
Dev shakes his head dismissively. Charlie might punch him. He might grab onto his ankles like a little kid and never let go. When he sees the silent tears gathering behind Dev’s glasses, he does neither of those things. “I love you, Dev,” he says again. He’ll keep saying it until Dev believes it. “I love everything about you.”
Charlie pulls Dev’s face down so he can kiss his tear stained cheeks.
“I love you because you try to understand my brain even though you’re terrible at being patient, and because you’re passionate about the stupidest things, and because you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. I love how you make me laugh. I love your ugly cargo shorts, and I love how cranky you get when you’re hungry, and I love how stubborn you are, and I don’t love you despite those things. I love you because of those things.”
Dev releases a sob at hearing his words paraphrased back to him.
“I get that you’re in pain right now,” Charlie continues. “I know that this show isn’t what you want it to be, and I get that you’re pulling away because you’re scared of how much it’s all going to hurt, but I love you. I love you so much right now, I can’t imagine ever not loving you. And it’s okay if you don’t love me back yet. I can love enough for both of us. Just please stop pulling away.”
“Charlie.” They are the two loveliest syllables in the whole world when Dev says them. Dev reaches down and kisses his mouth, his chin, his eyelids, his ears, like he’s creating a sensory map of Charlie’s face. “I love you. How could I not love you?”
Charlie grabs his wrists to hold him in place. “Then let me choose you. Choose us. Please.”
Dev desperately clings to the front of Charlie’s tux. He buries his face deep in the fabric, and his words struggle their way out. “We both knew we weren’t going to get a happily ever after.”
“We could.” Dev is floating away, and Charlie believes that if he holds tight enough to Dev’s hips, he can keep him. “Just stay, Dev. Just choose to stay.”
* * *
The next morning, it takes Charlie a while to understand why Dev isn’t in bed. Why his luggage is gone. Why Charlie’s jean jacket and his oatmeal body wash are missing. Why there is a torn-out piece of notebook paper on the pillow next to him, neatly folded into thirds.
Charlie reads the letter. Once. Twice. He reads it ten times. He doesn’t cry—at least, not then, not when he first understands Dev is not coming back. There’s no panic, no anxiety, no spiraling. There’s only the aching sense of sureness about who he is and what he has to do.