Work Text:
Some days Babe knows the exact number of days Charlie's been gone. He knows down to the minute, the seconds ticking in his peripherals. Other days he forgets, thinks he can hear Charlie's tread up the stairs with coffee. He holds his breath on those days, in case, just in case Charlie rounds the corner and beams at him.
Those days are by far the worst when he's struck with constant anticipation of turning and finding Charlie behind him, next to him, somewhere near him.
There are days between where he just pretends that Charlie never happened, never came into his life. Those are the ones that nearly break him. His mind makes sure to punish him harshly for simply putting Charlie in a box and trying to forget that he ever existed. Those nights are the ones he can smell Charlie's scent, feel him in the house, the pressure of his arms around his body.
Those are the days he weeps openly when he's assaulted with his last words to Charlie, how he looked away in anger, refused to even acknowledge him.
It's on the morning after Babe wept hard enough that his voice gave out, he trudges downstairs to find Jeff sitting in his kitchen. It's a knee-jerk reaction to ask him what the fuck Jeff's doing in his house, but he's actively been trying to not be an asshole to the people around him.
They don't talk. Jeff doesn't look at him. Babe makes coffee for the both of them.
Eventually, finally, Jeff says, "You're killing yourself."
Babe scoffs. Wants to ask so what? who cares? He wants to be cruel, wants to say his worth is only entwined in how much money he can earn for Tony when he's eventually fucking sold, or how much he can earn for Alan by winning races. The only person who saw worth in him is dead. He wants to say it all, nearly does, but like Jeff can read his mind, says, "My brother wouldn't have wanted this for you."
"Your brother is dead," Babe seethes. He's heartbroken but angry, yes, because Charlie fucking promised he'd never leave, and look what he went and did.
"My brother loves you," Jeff shoots back. "Don't disrespect Charlie's actions by destroying what he died to protect."
Babe's breath hitches. He looks away from Jeff's piercing gaze. He remembers the morning before Charlie's final race, how Charlie whispered how much he adored Babe.
"I don't know why he even wanted me," Babe says more to himself. "I was awful to him and-"
"Charlie loves you. I won't pretend to know what he sees in you," Jeff scans his appearance with distain, "but he loves you. Get your shit together, for Charlie, if not for yourself."
And he's gone. Just like that.
Babe hangs his head, wipes his face. He heads for the bathroom, but Jeff's words don't strike him until he's under the spray.
"Wait,"