Chapter Text
Lack of Colour
Xander turned over on the blanket, the soft sand shifting under him as his hand fumbled around in search of his sunglasses. Blinking against the light, he rubbed his eyes as he came around from sleep, before slipping his Raybans on and settling back onto his back, his eyes on the blue, cloudless sky. He yawned and stretched out, arms above his head and torso twisting slightly – dipping his head back he scanned the beach behind him, the world upside down.
She was standing at the waterline, facing out to sea, her hair blowing in the coastal breeze before settling across her shoulders and falling down her back. It was longer now than it had been at Christmas, almost brushing her waist. He allowed his eyes to rest on the pale skin of her shoulders and back, taking in the band of her blue bikini top, the halter neck strap hidden under her hair. He felt a pulse of desire at his core as he imagined running his hands over her warm skin, following the contours of the roundness of her backside and the strength of her thighs. But as he watched he saw her arms go around her waist to hug herself, and he knew that it wasn’t to ward off the cool breeze.
They were both tired. After finishing work yesterday he’d driven up the A24 – I could do that drive in my sleep, now – to collect her and her belongings from the uni halls, and drive them through the end-of-rush-hour traffic to her new digs in Hampton Wick. The flat, above the little Italian restaurant near the station, had such a poky flight of stairs that they had had to take turns carrying the boxes up as it was too narrow to pass each other. They’d stopped for a quick sandwich in lieu of dinner, before unpacking the kitchen boxes. Her flatmate Gina had already been in to claim cupboard space the day before, but there was plenty of room for Charlotte’s stuff, and they’d worked together quietly. Xander knew she’d been pleased when they’d found the place on the student rooms site, a few months back – but something was off with her, as she’d unpacked, and he found himself wondering if she was truly happy. There was a quietness in her, a lack of colour in her face, but they had needed to get finished so they could drive back to Sanditon with the bags she needed for her summer at home, so he hadn’t addressed it with her.
Home. It had been months since their conversation in the middle of the night. The memory of her vulnerability and uncertainty as they reconnected at Christmas caused a little pang of sadness in him, as he watched her now under the summer sun. Her excitement about what she was learning – and the pride she felt at being at university, finally – hadn’t lessened these past six months, but the workload had driven her to long evenings at the library, and later and later FaceTime calls, where they yawned behind hands as they tried to share what they had each been up to. He’d missed her, with an ache that grew with each quiet “Love you” as they rang off. Still, she was here with him now, and he had her for the summer. Time to love her back to herself.
They’d sunk into bed exhausted last night, spooning together comfortably but falling asleep straight away. And she’d been up and about when he woke up, smiling as he stumbled downstairs for a coffee, already gathering together the things they’d need for a day at the beach, insisting they go and relax for the day after the hard work of the day before. The purple smudges under her eyes bothered him, and he knew, as he always did, that he would do anything to make her happy. So they’d bundled into the car, determined to beat the tourist traffic and secure a roadside parking spot to avoid having to pay at the council car park. Takeaway coffees in hand, they’d picked out a spot on the sand and spread out. She’d seemed relaxed as he spread the suncream over her creamy skin, laughing as he’d gently tickled her side, sighing as he nibbled her ear. But she’d settled down onto her towel, so he’d made himself comfortable beside her, resting his hand on the small of her back. And had clearly dropped off to sleep.
Xander clambered up to his feet, leaving his sliders by the towels and picking his way barefoot across the warm sand, avoiding the shingle and seaweed accumulated at the high waterline. She was still watching the waves, and so he snaked his arms around her waist and dropped his face to her shoulder, breathing in the scent of her hair, all lemon and thyme, sunscreen and fresh air.
“You ok, sweetheart?”
She turned in his arms, moving her arms around to his waist, and the touch reassured him – her smile as she looked up into his face was warm despite not quite reaching her eyes. “Not too bad. Did you enjoy your nap?”
“I did, but I missed you when I woke up. That’s twice today I’ve woken up alone, and…” he dropped his lips to her shoulder, “you are not to make a habit of it.”
“She snorted gently, not replying, but not moving away from his kisses. He pulled her body closer, glad that she moulded herself to him, and gently reached for her jaw, resting his hand on her cheek and looking into her eyes. “I’m glad you’re home.”
They stood that way for moments that stretched, her chocolate-brown eyes meeting his, but unreadable, and his thumb feathering over her cheekbone, until she leaned into his palm and closed her eyes, sighing.
His worry spiked, what was wrong with her? But as she leant into him, he focused on the fact she was not withdrawing, as she would have done in the past. He needed to be patient, he knew.
“Has something happened, love? You seem… distracted.”
She sighed again, opening her eyes and settling her gaze over his shoulder. “It’s dad.”
“Oh, right...” He tried, not entirely successfully he thought, to hide the stiffening of his body as his anger at her father flared – uncaring and dismissive of Charlotte as that man was, it was always bubbling in him just below the surface. His hand dropped to take hers, holding it to anchor himself and hoping to stop the tension that was rising in him from affecting her. “What’s going on?”
“Mum texted me yesterday, he’s got to have some tests. There are some patches of skin on his back that the doctor doesn’t like the look of.”
“When did she text? This morning?”
“Late afternoon, while you were driving up.”
“Why didn’t you say anything last night?” Xander felt the flare of his irritation go from its habitual focus – on her selfish father – onto Charlotte, for keeping this from him for almost a whole day.
She flushed, looking down at her hands. ”You’d driven up after work, you were helping me out at the end of a long week. I just wanted you to not have my complicated shit land on you as well.”
He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly and as quietly as he could. Easy, Xander. He squeezed her hands. “Okay. First of all, last night wasn’t me doing something for you. It’s us, getting you set up and ready for next year, and then you coming home. You don’t have to be grateful.” He swung her hands slightly from side to side, and she looked down at their entwined fingers. “Secondly, this is not your ‘complicated shit’, this is your family. And they come with you. And I want you in my life. All of you.” He thought wryly that he couldn’t cross his fingers behind his back because she was holding them. I can deal with him for her. “And finally…” and now he dropped one of her hands to gently lift her chin so she met his eye, and the sadness he saw there broke a piece of his heart for her, “...you promised.”
An adorable crease appeared between her brows, as she puzzled out what he meant. He smiled softly, running his thumb gently over it to rub it away, raising one eyebrow at her. She smiled as realisation dawned.
“You promised,” he said softly, returning her smile with a soft one of his own, “that you’d stopped being fucking noble.”
She sagged against him, then, and he tucked her under his chin, where she fit so perfectly. He felt her shuddering breath, and held her close while she battled the swell of emotion that had risen in her, just like she’d told him her therapist taught her. He rubbed her back with long, gentle strokes all the way up and down her spine, until eventually the trembling stopped.
Kissing her head, he said, “I love you, Charlotte Heywood. And I’d appreciate it if you could try and remember that, eh?”
She laughed shakily, gently wiping a tear from her eye with her fingers. “Okay… I promised, you’re right.” She took a breath, “And I will try to remember.” Her smile reached her eyes this time, and she stood up her tiptoes, her hands on his chest. The warmth of her hands reassured him as much as her softened eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered.
He leaned down and rested his forehead against hers, relishing the calm after the storm – listening to the gentle lapping of the waves and the call of the gulls circling lazily overhead.
She broke the silence between them, “I’m sorry, Xan…”
“Nuh-uh, no apologies. I know this is part of it, the… unwinding of the past few years. I know it takes time. And I’m here. For all of it.”
She sighed, “I’m just so fucking tired. It’s so much harder when I’m tired…”
“Right,” he leant in to kiss her on the nose. “I have an idea of what will help. Follow me.” He tugged her back across the sand and towards the prom beyond it. “Ice cream.”
She grinned, “Ice cream cures everything. Well, most things. I haven’t tried it on seemingly interminable feelings of being a burden to people who love me.” She squeezed his hand.
“Well we have to try it immediately. For the sake of science.”
—-
He watched her licking the trickle of melted ice cream that was wending its way down the side of the cone, catching her eye and waggling his eyebrows suggestively to make her laugh. She giggled and something in him relaxed at last. The sun was high in the sky, and he let his head fall back, eyes closed briefly, relishing the warmth on his face. The ache of missing her was starting to subside, and the worry had passed.
She was alright. And he had her home.
“So, sweetheart, you have a choice.”
She glanced over, raising her eyebrows to show she was listening, while she smoothed the sides of the remaining ice cream with the flat of her tongue. His mind went immediately to ideas that had no place in public spaces. And required his girl to make her choice quickly. “We either go back down to the beach. But that requires applying even more suncream and it’s probably all sandy and annoying now, and I’m absolutely convinced you can’t be bothered with all that…” He scooted closer, his thigh pressed against hers on the warm concrete of the prom edge.
“Or…?” She tilted her head, mischievously, and he was sure her tongue was doing unnecessary things with the last of her ice cream.
“Or…” He leant in to feather his lips on her shoulder as he spoke, “…or we head home. And shower. You know, in the conveniently spacious walk-in shower…”
She pretended to think about it. “Hmm.” He bit her lightly and she chuckled. “I do feel annoyingly sandy…”