who ? charlie weasley and oliver wood when ? tuesday evening, 7th september where ? charlie’s what ? heartbreak status ? complete
The repeat dream Oliver had had for almost a week before it had finally stopped had not left him in a great mood. Which, most likely, was expected, or rather, anyone else in his position also would not have been very happy to wake up for days from what surely was some sort of a nightmare. Except it felt... real? Oliver was still trying to get his head around that. He had never really been into fortune telling, tea leaves, dreams or crystal balls, but even Oliver couldn’t deny that the dream felt realistic to the point of worrying.
It was hard to imagine a future in which Oliver and Charlie wouldn’t be ‘Oliver and Charlie’ or ‘Charlie and Oliver’ or any other version of their names jointly put within quotation marks together. The problem was the sense of bitterness that the dream had left Oliver with. Oliver Wood did not think himself a bitter man, in fact, Oliver couldn’t think of ever being someone so bitter. But he had been. In the dream. He had been so unhappy and it scared him. It scared him a lot. Not having Charlie in his life was frightening. Not just because Oliver loved Charlie, but because Charlie was his best friend.
The friendship the two shared had always been the thing that had stopped Oliver from pushing further, from asking for things he didn’t think Charlie could give him. These past few months had been... amazing. They really had been. And sure, there were... issues, to put it kindly, but Oliver tried so hard. The whole sex thing was... well, it was something he was working on and had no doubt he could manage, but even that, the dream had sort of put a negative on.
All of this had left Oliver scared. Scared of losing Charlie as a friend because of, well, something. And he didn’t have a great plan, Oliver knew that, but he had a plan. One which he hoped could ensure their friendship even if it would draw an end to their romantic relationship. It was a price Oliver was willing to pay.
They’d had a dinner, like they often did, which had been lovely, as it often was. Now sat by the fire, drinking tea, Oliver looked over at Charlie almost sadly, but mostly worried. “I need to talk to you about something,” he said, fingers brushing over the mug in his hands softly.
--
Charlie had been just as preoccupied by the dreams. Not that he knew Oliver had shared them; considering they’d been dating for months now they really were incredibly useless at communicating. He’d pasted on a happy face as best he could, buried himself in work when he couldn’t do it any more. Nights like this helped; dinner together, cups of tea, Fizz curled up against his knee snoring gently.
Looking over at Oliver curiously, he nudged Oliver’s knee with his gently. “Thought we’d been talking?” He said, his voice light, teasing. He didn’t like the look on Oliver’s face though. That wasn’t a good news face.
“What is it?”
--
They had been talking. Mostly about quidditch and dragons, the two favourite subjects, and Oliver was very tempted to just turn the conversation back to that and pretend he didn’t have more to say. Except then they’d just circulate back to this conversation, Oliver was sure. Or well, he would, since he was the one attempting to initiate it. Except Oliver didn’t really know how to do that. He’d never been particularly great at planning, which was now rather regrettable.
“We’re best friends, right?” He asked not sure whether that was the right place to start, but at the end of the day, it was the bit that Oliver most cared about in the whole thing. “Like, even though we now have,” there he waved a hand between them. “This?” He said presuming Charlie would know that Oliver was referencing their relationship past the point of friendship. “We’re still friends, yeah?” Well, Oliver assumed they were. Friendship like theirs didn’t just... go away because of kissing and handjobs, did it? Oliver hoped not, at least. Even if his dream indicated differently.
--
Charlie looked puzzled. It was a weird question to be asking; Oliver had been his best friend since he’d joined the Quidditch team at school. Not having him in his life was unthinkable, no matter what the dreams had suggested. They were just dreams, after all.
“Course we are,” he said softly. “Even with this,” he mimicked Oliver’s hand-waving between them, smiling a little. “You’re my best friend. Always will be.” When anything happened - with work, with his family - Oliver was the first person he thought of telling. And he was sure his coworkers were fed up of him starting sentences with ‘Oliver said...’ or ‘Oliver did...’. Perhaps it was because he had such a large family; Charlie never felt the need to seek out a large circle of friends. He thought that as long as he had Oliver, he wouldn’t mind if he didn’t have anyone else.
--
Oliver smiled when Charlie confirmed that they were best friends, always would be. Except that was the problem. Oliver realised that following some dream, no matter how sad it had been, was a ridiculous thing to do, but it did scare him. Just the idea of not having Charlie there to be... well, to be Oliver’s best friend. He loved what they had, truly, but Oliver could live and be happy without it (maybe) but he couldn’t be happy without Charlie’s friendship (definitely). And Oliver just didn’t think he could fix things if he fucked up, which he was sure he would. It hadn’t happened yet but it would.
“It means a lot to me,” Oliver said slowly, almost thoughtfully. “Our friendship,” he clarified. “I mean, so does our relationship but it’s not--” Oliver wasn’t really sure how to explain. He absolutely loved Charlie had done so for years but he also loved the fact that Charlie laughed at the stupid things Oliver did, and that Charlie was there for Oliver to cry at after losing a game, and that Charlie--all the things about Charlie, really. Charlie was great. “I think we should break up,” Oliver said almost out of the blue. He then made a face because it sounded so... shit. “I don’t want to lose you as a friend, Charlie,” Oliver added almost too softly, the words sounding both sad and pathetic even to him. “I don’t think I could live with that.”
--
Charlie stared at Oliver. There was a roaring in his ears, the kind that came after you’d been deafened by a dragon’s roar. When you’d got close enough for the hairs on your arm to curl and crisp in the heat of it’s breath, and stood your ground.
“Why?” He asked, very softly. “I...did I do something?” The dark thoughts in the back of his mind pointed out that it hadn’t been Charlie, in the dream. That Oliver had cheated on him. Even with the tie of years of relationships, two kids, a house...it hadn’t kept Oliver with him. But that was a dream, that wasn’t them. He had to stop thinking about it like it was some kind of fucking prophecy.
“I don’t understand...”
--
Charlie’s question made Oliver’s eyes widen. “No, of course not!” He exclaimed genuinely surprised by the question. “No, Charlie, you’re--” and there Oliver sighed softly, almost deflated. “You’re perfect,” he said much more gently. It was true. Charlie was amazing. The problem was Oliver. The problem was always Oliver and he feared he would never really know how to fix that, how to be better and he needed Charlie.
With a small shake of his head, Oliver stared into the fire. “This will sound really stupid,” he said with a frown, not looking at Charlie because he really couldn’t. “But I had this dream, and I’m not saying I’m breaking up with you because of a dream, but it, I don’t know, it made me feel so unhappy and you weren’t there, or well, you were, but we weren’t friends and I can’t--” Oliver did realise he was probably not making any sense but he had no idea how to explain himself. All he wanted was for him and Charlie to be friends forever, even if it meant they weren’t going to be lovers forever.
--
“...oh.” Charlie blushed just a little; he still wasn’t used to Oliver’s compliments, frequent though they were. He shifted in his seat and turned to face Oliver a little more. He didn’t understand what was happening...not until Oliver started talking about a dream. Just like the one he’d had. Frowning, he looked down at his hands.
“Me too,” he murmured. “I mean,” he sighed, struggling to find the right words, getting irritated at himself for it. “I had a dream like that. We weren’t together any more, and you--you hated me.” Or that’s how it had felt, at least. And he had been just as unpleasant back.
“We don’t have to let it come true?” He suggested.
--
Oliver did glance away from the fire to look at Charlie when he said that he, too, had had a dream similar to Oliver’s. A dream in which Oliver had hated him. It couldn’t be the same dream, since Oliver hadn’t hated Charlie in his, but it wasn’t... dissimilar. Oliver had just felt bitter. In the dream and for ages after waking up. He had hated it so much, the feeling of resentment he had towards Charlie. It wasn’t something Oliver ever wanted to feel again.
“But what if it does?” Oliver asked saddly. He didn’t think either of them could guarantee that it wouldn’t and, well, Oliver didn’t want to take that risk. He rather be heartbroken but still Charlie’s friend than... a bitter man. Oliver didn’t want to ever feel that way, towards Charlie or otherwise. He wanted to reach out, run his hand over Charlie’s arm, seek comfort. But he didn’t. “I don’t want us to hurt each other to the point where we can no longer be friends,” Oliver admitted softly.
--
“We won’t,” Charlie said. He tried to sound confident. But the dream was still niggling in the back of his mind, the awkwardness that hung in the air between them when they tried to talk...it made his throat feel tight.
An indignant chirp from Fizz made Charlie realise he’d gripped her too tightly, her ruff flattened by his worried fingers. “Sorry, Fizz,” he murmured, managing a smile for her at least.
“What do you want to do?” He asked, blinking as he looked into the fire, tried to brace himself for the answer he knew was coming.
--
What Oliver wanted to do was rather different from what he thought was best to do. Ideally, he would’ve never had those dreams. Except, of course, that didn’t solve anything, just... delayed it. And that thought was precisely why Oliver worried. He’d been so sure he’d mess up ever since they had started this thing up and that fear hadn’t gone away, constantly niggling at the back of his mind. That wasn’t good, was it? Productive? And Oliver was just so frightened.
“I think we should go back to just being friends,” Oliver said finally, shaking his head before Charlie could say anything. “I’m not stupid, I know it’s not that easy, I realise we need... I don’t know? Time apart, maybe? But after, we can--” Oliver sighed. “We’re good, Charlie. We’re excellent as friends and that means so much to me,” he looked at Charlie sadly again. “Do you think we can?” Oliver asked the question full of hope.
--
Charlie stared into the flames. There was that roaring again; the heat of the fire feeling more like dragonbreath on his skin.
“I don’t know,” he answered, as much to lash out as to be honest. He hurt, and he’d never felt like this. He’d never had to deal with a relationship before, or a break up. He wondered if it felt like this for everyone.
“I think-” he cleared his throat. “I think you need to go now.” He couldn’t keep sitting here. Not if this was happening. For all the logic behind what Oliver was saying, he couldn’t quite accept it just yet.
--
Oliver didn’t want to go. Oliver wanted to make Charlie happy again. Except he was the reason Charlie wasn’t happy and Oliver didn’t know what to do with that. He could have taken it all back, he supposed, but, well, that wouldn’t really change the fact that he was so afraid. Afraid to lose Charlie. So Oliver nodded instead. “Okay,” he said softly, getting up.
Turning to Charlie, Oliver thought of all the things he could say, all the apologies he could make. “You’re my best friend,” he said in the end, opting for that rather than an ‘I love you’, which seemed somewhat inappropriate right now. “Truly,” Oliver added in the same tone he would have said an ‘I love you’ hours earlier.
“We’ll take a bit but then--we’ll be okay,” Oliver concluded, an assurance as much to himself as it was to Charlie. And then, with a soft ‘pop’ Oliver apparated home and promptly just sat down on his cold floor wondering how big of a mistake he had just made.