the world forgetting, by the world forgot
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“Charles?” He knows that it is his boyfriend, he knows his clothes his shoes his hair, and even his perfume now that he is so close, but he still doesn’t want to startle him.
He turns on his stool, confusion waving in his eyes. After a second he smiles, an innocent strange smile playing on his lips. “Sorry, do I know you?” He asks.
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"Can I help you?" Charles didn't even realize how he went from wanting to bite the guy to wanting to help him. The man looked at him and, oh, being looked at by those eyes was so much better than watching them dart around. A pair of big brown eyes with a confused gaze stared at Charles. Maybe he didn't speak English. "Help?" Charles asked, pointing at the board.
"Oh, you were talking to me," the stranger laughed momentarily, "I didn't think you were talking to me." he had a severe accent, but Charles was so lost in his (familiar?) voice to realize it.
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Charles stuck his head out of the window just as Carlos was exiting his apartment and whispered very loudly, "call me when you get home," he smiled at himself and then at Carlos once he looked up, "it would be really nice if you called me."
"I will."
Charles waved and closed the window. For the next forty minutes as Carlos drove home and ran inside, he couldn't control his smile. It kept getting bigger and bigger the closer he got to the house. To calling Charles.
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