Chapter Text
It's-- look. it's not that Charlie's mad at Knox, never that. it's more that -- well, Knox can't shut up about all the merits of love poems in an age increasingly focused on sports, and that's Knox, no harm no foul. but Charlie's kind of noticing that of all the love poems that Charlie reads to the society, none of them refer to him. or, more accurately, all of them describe some blonde girl he met at a dinner party, which, in Charlie's humble opinion, is the single lamest place to meet someone.
But, he digresses.
Either way, despite how he can't meet Knox's eyes for about an hour after society meetings, he's not going to tell anyone, not even ever empathetic Neil, about his stupid crush. This is a problem between Charlie and Nuwanda, as far as he's concerned, and is therefore his business exclusively. and besides, he's got a reputation.
Or, he did, before stupid Cameron took the wrong notebook into chemistry and read all of the stupid journaling Charlie had pretended not to have done, and stood there, in their dorm, threatening him with exposition.
Charlie puts his hands in his pockets and pretends to not care as Cameron rants to him about the moral failings that were apparently inherent in falling for your best friend. There are none, Charlie thinks as he listens, Cameron is just really damned homophobic.
"Look, bud," Charlie cut him off, "I don't know if you've been paying attention at all to what Keating implies about Whitman, but the general modern consensus that boys liking boys is not a problem. Give me back my notebook." Cameron only held it further away.
"What if I tell your dad?" He says, like a shithead. "That'll probably get you expelled." Which, shit, because that was definitely the worst-case scenario.
"Dude, come on." Charlie says, "Why do you care? It doesn't affect you at all--"
"I don't want to have to see that lifestyle at a school that prides itself on traditional values," Cameron says very matter-of-factly. Seriously, Charlie thinks, does this kid understand the Dead Poets Society at all? When the hell have they abided by traditional values?
"What do you want from me? It's not like I've been obvious about it."
"If you stop making fun of me, and all the other stuff, maybe I won't tell anyone," Cameron says, with maybe the most infuriating grin possible. Really, Charlie thinks when he remembers his dad's choice comments at mealtimes, does he even have a choice?
And that's how Charlie went from among the freest of the Dead Poets to shackled by Cameron's omnipotent shadow. He stopped bringing the saxophone to study halls because Cameron raised his eyebrows at him and pointedly looked at his stationary. He stopped pressing up against Knox in the cold Dead Poets Cave because Cameron eyed their closeness and cleared his throat. He stopped deliberately giving wrong answers to Keating, not because of Cameron, but because he stopped feeling like himself, without his bravado but with a constant threat over his head. It's not that he hadn't thought of the consequences of loving Knox, but now that stupid, traditional, buzzkill Cameron knew, the consequences seemed, for the first time, real. (Cameron doesn't want to hold the meetings every week. He thinks they should happen once a month. "Yeah, I guess, same," Charlie says, looking at Cameron's shoes, to the incredulity of his friends. The meetings dwindle in number after that.)
&
It was about a week and a half of constantly looking over his shoulder for the worst of his friends when he is stopped on his way across the courtyard by Meeks.
"What is good, my fine friend," he begins, fully prepared to bullshit his way out of Meeks' concern. It doesn't look like it works.
"What's wrong?" Meeks asks, removing Charlie's arm from where he had slung it over his shoulder.
"Nothing wrong. Busy week. Latin sucks." Frankly, Charlie is offended his smile is not alleviating Meeks' concern.
"You're not being yourself," Meeks says, unimpressed.
"What is the self?" Charlie answers. It's better that he misquotes poets than be honest, he thinks.
&
Neil tries to talk to him, during a study hall, which is stupid because it's been three weeks and Charlie was actually kind of distracted for once, having a paper sword fight with Meeks, Todd, and Knox.
"Dalton!" Neil calls, and Charlie gets so caught off guard that Knox disarms him, grabs his wrist, and twists it behind his back.
"Not fair Neil!" Charlie responds, before stamping on Knox's foot in an attempt to get free. It doesn't work. Knox brings his paper sword up to Charlie's neck, keeps it there, and Charlie grins at Neil. Some things are worse than losing a paper sword fight. Charlie decides that to talk to Neil about feelings is one of those things, so he taps twice at Knox's arm, picks his sword up, and pats Neil on the shoulder.
"Give me a minute, I've got a rematch calling my name." Neil looks between him and Knox, then joins Pitts in working on what is undoubtedly the history essay due next week.
"En garde !" Charlie shouts, attacking Knox with renewed vigor and ignoring the way his face heats up when he loses again.
Neil gets him eventually, when they're the last two getting ready for bed, but he doesn't make him talk. He looks him in the eye, gives him a small smile, and pulls him into a hug. Burying his head in Neil's shoulder, Charlie thinks about how old Neil seems sometimes, and feels a lump in his throat.
&
Detention, when he serves it for not doing the history essay, is terrible. Not only because it's insufferably boring, but also because Knox is there with him, for getting caught on the roof, and he’s staring so deliberately at Charlie that he’s having a really hard time ignoring it. And that also sucks, because any other time, he would revel in Knox's undivided attention, but now all he can see is his dad's face condemning "unnatural men" and telling him to stay away from "those kinds of folks." It's kind of hard, he thinks, to stay away from himself.
"Are you mad at me?" Knox asks, after a while. Charlie finally turns to look at him.
"I'm not-- no, I'm not mad at you."
"Then why are you ignoring me?" Knox asks, leaning back in his chair and kind of challenging Charlie with his gaze. Charlie shifts a bit in his seat.
"I'm also not ignoring you," he says, not meeting Knox's eyes. "I've been really busy." He can still feel Knox staring at him.
"What?" he asks, defensive. Knox shakes his head and doesn't reply, but Charlie still kind of wants to cry.
&
It's a Friday night, and they're all supposed to be going home for a three day weekend, but Charlie's parents are off in London and Knox's are in Prague. It's a Friday night, and Charlie accidentally sees Neil and Todd kissing in the shadow of an arch in the rain.
Charlie doesn't look for long, but he feels a part of his chest unlodge at the sight, as Todd pulls back and laughs, wraps his arms around Neil, and Neil ruffles Todd's hair and kisses his head.
They look really, truly happy, Charlie thinks as he walks back to his and Cameron's dorm, and it makes Charlie think he could be happy too. That he was right in saying it's not wrong to love another boy, that it's not unnatural, and that maybe he could kiss boys, too, and his dad didn't have to know. He stands at the top of the stairs after climbing them for a minute, just breathing, before turning the corner to walk towards his room. The lamps that light the corridor gild the ceiling like they haven't done for about a month, since Cameron threatened him. The windows glitter with rain like they're crystals, and Charlie smiles without anyone watching him.
When he opens the door to his room, Cameron isn't there, he's gone home, but Knox, very conspicuously, is. Charlie greets him with a genuine smile.
"Let's go on the roof," Knox says, and Charlie really looks at him, for the first time in a month, and wonders how he refrained for a whole thirty days.
When they've climbed from the bridge to the roof of a hallway, the rain has stopped, but Knox still lays his blazer on the ground so they don't get wet, ("To hell with the blazer, I guess," Charlie teases, earning a shove from Knox.) They sit down really close together, on account of the blazer only being made to fit one person's shoulders. They stare at the sky for a little, before Charlie announces, "I'm never rooming with Cameron ever again, I swear to God." Knox raises an eyebrow.
"Too much of a goody-two-shoes, is he?"
"He doesn't appreciate my sax, is the thing." and Knox erupts into raucous laughter and Charlie really does feel like himself.
When the two quiet down, Charlie's face heats up because Knox keeps looking between him and the sky.
"What?" Charlie asks.
"Nothing," Knox says. "I missed you."
"I didn't leave," Charlie says, but he knows you don't have to be gone to be missed. "I missed you too." He says.
"Was it me?" Knox asks, and Charlie's heart really hurts. He doesn't ask what Knox means, but answers, "No."
"What was wrong?" Charlie looks at Knox, who looks at the stars that have begun to light. "Was it Cameron?" Knox asks again, and Charlie says "Yeah."
"What was it -- you don't have to tell me -- but what did he do?"
"He read something I wrote."
"Was it -- what was it about?"
Charlie thinks of how to answer, then says, "You know what they say, about Shakespeare and about Wilde?"
"Like about the sonnets?" Knox asks.
"Yeah, about the sonnets."
Knox is quiet for a bit. Charlie looks at him, and he looks at Charlie. Charlie uncurls his hands from around his knees and lays back against the roof, his hands behind his head.
"Did you give your poems to that girl?" Charlie asks, to break the silence.
"What girl?" asks Knox.
"The blonde one. From your poems."
"There's not a blonde girl anymore," Knox says, and Charlie looks at him as he also lies back, one arm outstretched to his side and the other thrown over his eyes.
"Oh," Charlie says. He doesn't ask why.
"There's someone else, though," Knox says, and Charlie's stomach kind of jumps, a bit.
"Who is she?" Charlie asks, to cut the tension. It doesn't work, because Knox doesn't start waxing poetic about some new girl's hair or eyes or smile, like Charlie expected him to, but instead he opens one eye and looks, really looks, at Charlie. Charlie feels like his heart is in his throat and doesn't get why it's beating so fast, and he knows that his eyes are probably the size of the moon and the problem, he thinks, with Knox not talking about his new girl is that Charlie's heart isn't breaking, and that's unfair because now his stupid heart has hope, really has hope, and it's hard to breathe all of the sudden and Knox won't stop looking at him and now there's so much tension the air feels solid, and the moon and the trees and the sky can't draw his eyes away from Knox's, and then Knox kind of licks his lips a little and now Charlie can't stop looking at them, and his eyes kind of go hooded, he thinks, and, and, and --
And then either Charlie is passing out or Knox is getting closer, and honestly, Charlie can't decide which is more likely when he thinks apparently it's the latter, as Knox leans up on one elbow and brushes one hand along Charlie's jaw. Charlie really can't stop looking at Knox's lips, still, and then Knox stops moving closer, and they're kind of sharing the same air and Charlie's heart is so loud and so fast and so high up in his chest, and, and, and then --
"Can I?" Knox whispers, and Charlie manages to nod, and finally, they're kissing, and Charlie's head goes white, and it's so, so good, because his hands are finally in Knox's hair and Knox's hands are on his jaw and his neck, and it's like the entire damn world is spinning except for the two of them, and he feels dizzy and blissfully happy.
When they break apart, Charlie gets why Todd laughed in the courtyard, because he really can't stop smiling, and he shoves Knox a bit and shouts,
"Fucking finally!" and then both he and Knox are laughing, and then Knox is dragging him up so they're both seated and then they're kissing again, and it's not really good because they're both smiling too hard, but when they break apart, Charlie's hands are looped around Knox's neck and he smiles really hard into Knox's shoulder.
Knox starts to pet his hair, which is really nice, and Charlie feels him lean his cheek against Charlie's head.
"It's not a girl," mumbles Knox into Charlie's hair. Charlie shoots up so fast he accidentally knocks Knox's jaw. He kisses it to make it better, then says,
"Wait, you wrote me poetry?" and Knox rolls his eyes and pulls him back in for another quick kiss and then holds him again and says, "Obviously, Dalton, don't be stupid."
"Nuwanda to you," Charlie mutters as he drags Knox back into another kiss.
When it starts to get cold, and the rainwater seeps into Knox's blazer, they get up, holding hands, and retreat back to Charlie and Cameron's room, on Charlie's bed. Staring at Cameron's stupid orange and green quilt, with his back pressed against Knox's front, Charlie isn't deluded into thinking there's no longer going to be a problem, but he's got Knox, now, holding him, and he knows Neil and Todd are happy, too.
Maybe they'll talk to Neil and Todd in the morning, Charlie decides, before rolling over to give Knox another kiss.
"You want to sleep here?" he asks, and at Knox's eyebrow wiggling, groans. "Not what I meant and you know it. Take me for dinner first," and then Knox kisses him and says "Yes, dear," and he knows he's kind of teasing him but also knows he's kind of not, which makes him really happy, which is cheesy, but what can you do.
Later, when they're ready for bed, and Charlie's already winked at Neil in the bathroom, to his utter bafflement and later embarrassment, Charlie snuggles into Knox's shoulder and shoves him when Knox makes a really obnoxious cooing sound. It's kind of hard to push someone you're half on top of, and Charlie only moves further into Knox's personal space afterward, so his point is null, but, again, what can you do. Knox cards his fingers through Charlie's hair as he's beginning to drift off, and Charlie's last thought is that he's sure he's never been happier in his life.