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Charlie Dalton did not believe in high hopes, especially in drowning situations, especially not to allude yourself in order to not feel the pain that came with hopelessness. If something was happening, there was no point sitting and wishing it away. No, he thought it was almost cowardly. Just face it, he would tell himself. You’re gonna fail that test, dad is gonna get angry, you’re not gonna make the football team, if you didn’t have hopes you couldn’t be disappointed. It was pessimistic, sure, but it left no room for failure, so that was alright. He could live with that.
Richard and him were alike in that way, he supposes. Although he thinks he does it more as a defence mechanism whereas Rich just simply did not believe in himself enough. It poked and prodded at him the first time he’d figured that little bit out. Unnecessarily irritating, the thought would settle low in his belly and tug him to the floor and he’d never figured out why. Well, maybe he had.
So the first time he’d been drunk off his face after New Years at Welton, and Rich called him a ‘daft idiot who had no regard for his own self preservation’, well, he couldn’t stop himself.
“Can I kiss you?” Cameron had stopped, blinking in surprise.
“No, of course not.” And he wasn’t disappointed. He didn’t have hope to begin with. He could blame it on the drink, the fact that his eyes were hazy and Richard eerily looked like Rebecca from down the street, he could. He didn’t. He didn’t like lying all that much either.
Instead, he moved back, said “Oh, I’m sorry.” And tried to leave the room all together. Maybe he did have expectations, it was only normal, and God did he hate himself for it. No, but he couldn’t leave the room without Richard grabbing the end of his sweater instead of his hand, and holding him there.
“You don’t have to leave, Charlie.” He looked defeated in a way that drunk Dalton couldn’t work out. He could almost see the knot in Camerons chest, watching as it tightened bit by bit, straightening his shoulders and giving him an annoyingly stiff posture.
“I don’t really wanna stay, Cam.” He didn’t know he’d said it until the words had left his mouth. Another side effect, he supposed. The movies weren’t kidding about alcohol making you lose it a bit. He didn’t think it was a lie though, for some reason he couldn’t stand being there then. The dull ache never intensified, it stayed where it was. Where Richard Cameron stood. It always had, he supposes. He didn’t think he’d be able to pinpoint when it had started. A part of him thinks he’d been falling in love before he’d even met Rich, with every sonnet he read and every breath he took, all of it was just build up. Build up to this. Where it would fall like a building that was never meant to stand in the first place.
“That’s not fair.” He saw the knot stretch a bit more, too tight, it was splintering off at the ends. Maybe if it pulled a little more it’d break completely. Charlie wondered what that would unleash.
“Why not?” He wouldn’t cry. It’s something cowardly people did, it shows weakness, that he can be hurt. And well he was hurt, but nobody needed to know that. If he focused hard enough though, he thought Cameron might start crying. That didn’t make sense either, Richard was still one of the bravest people he knew, he wouldn’t cry. He had nothing to cry about.
“I- I don-” He struggled with an answer, Charlie could hear his heartbeat picking up. Maybe that was his own. Did alcohol heighten your senses? No, of course not, he was a kid but he wasn’t stupid. Richard's cheeks seemed to get redder, the knot so close to breaking that Charlie wanted to reach out and break it himself and scream just tell me, stop being afraid, and tell me. What? he didn’t know. “I don’t want you to leave, please.”
Charlie debated his options then, nothing made sense to him, Richard should’ve been repulsed and kicked him out himself. And then he almost laughed because it would take too much in him to refuse the ginger anyway. Maybe he was pathetic. Maybe he did have hope.
“Okay Ri, whatever you want.” The knot didn’t snap, not the way Charlie wanted it to, but it did seem to loosen. Richard smiled in a way that broke his heart a little more, made him want to fall on the floor and bawl. He didn’t, he smiled back and sat on his bed, staring at the floor. He could feel more than see Rich sitting down beside him, staring a bit too softly at the side of his head. He couldn’t look back, he’d had enough breaking for one day.
“I’m sorry.” He mumbled out after a few minutes, and Charlie glanced at him before looking away.
“About what?” It was a miracle his voice was still working, his throat felt incredibly raw and tight.
“I- I don’t know.” Lies, Charlie thought. He did know, Charlie knew too, but he wasn’t angry about it. Of course not. He couldn’t describe the feeling. Disappointment sounded too harsh. Reality, perhaps? Yeah, that was it.
“You don’t have to be sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.” It wasn’t a lie, it was a half-truth, yet it still sent fires through his lungs, burning the oxygen out and making him want to get up and gasp for air.
Richard waited a few beats before responding, “Did you mean it?”
That did get Charlie to laugh, bitter and short, and if you were paying close enough attention it probably sounded more like an upbeat sob, if that was a thing, he wasn’t sure. “I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it, Richard.”
“You say a lot of things you don’t mean.” That wasn’t untrue either, Charlie couldn’t control his tongue when he was angry. Or his fists for that matter.
“Not this.” He could feel Rich’s eyes search his face, stare at him like a piece of poetry that he couldn’t understand. Usually, that made Charlie quite uncomfortable, too vulnerable, but not this time. This time he turned and met Richard’s eyes full on. Look at me, he wanted to say, please, look at me and have me, because I think I’ve always been yours.
“2 years.” Richard said, his composure resting like he’d heard Charlie anyway. Charlie furrowed his eyebrows, confused.
“What?”
“2 years until we graduate, 2 years we share a dorm, 2 years is all we have.” He couldn’t tell if it was the drinks or not but he was still pretty darn confused.
“What? One of us gonna die senior year?”
“No, but this wouldn’t work forever Charlie,” Why not, if only he could scream, but he knew why. “2 years, no promises past that. It’ll end.”
Charlie smiled sadly, feeling the odd sense of something blooming in his stomach. He wouldn’t give it a name until much much later, until it was much too late to stop it, until it tore at his organs and forced him to bleed out. “I never have hope anyway.”
Richard moved a little forward, so close that Charlie could count every shade of colour in his eyes, memorize them so they were his to keep when all of this ended. “You can’t hate me after.”
I could never hate you anyway, but he didn’t say it. Instead he kissed him, a kiss like a stab that would leave it’s wound much too long, like an unwanted guest that always hung around, never leaving his gut. Never take away the hurt. But it didn’t matter then because Richard’s lips were soft, and he tasted like coffee and chocolate, and well, how could anything else matter in comparison? It didn’t stand a chance.
________
Hope. That sick feeling in his stomach was hope, he’d come to find. And God, did it blossom beautiful flowers that hid their thorns perfectly. Called butterflies into his stomach that distracted from the bees, wonderful yet so, so ugly.
Richard wore his sweater out in public, hope.
Richard held his hand while grinning and running down a field, hope.
Richard kissed his forehead and then his nose while whispering goodnight, hope.
Richard said he loved him, hope, hope, hope, hope.
Their game was a cruel and tragic one, a game they played so well that sometimes Charlie forgot that’s all it was. A game. A timebomb attached to his happiness, one that would go off far too soon. He could almost hear it in his head, every time he smiled a little too wide, every time Ri said beautiful bullshit to him, every time something made him feel a bit too content and his heart a bit too full. Tick, tock, tick, tock, you’ll lose him, you’ll lose him.
Still, sometimes he forgot anyway.
Like when they snuck into town on the warmest night, walking through the alleys with the giddiness they only seemed to have around each other. They’d found an empty field full of fireflies and little string lights, a bit too perfect. The reflection of them bounced through Richard’s eyes as he stood there explaining why it is that fireflies have light, and Charlie listened without interjecting too much even though the words were flying over his head.
And then they’d lie down, and Rich would explain the different constellations and what they meant, and Charlie assumed he knew everything. Maybe he did, Charlie wouldn’t be surprised. It made his heart swell in the distant feeling of proudness. He’d find books on this later, research and read so that next time he’d be able to keep up with the conversations. He knew how much Cameron loved to talk about everything he knew, knew how he hated feeling like a burden, sometimes Charlie thought he knew everything about him.
It was when they’d quieted down, fingers lazily tracing patterns on each other's hands when he’d found himself blurting it out. It had been a year, after all, maybe things had changed. “How do you feel about forever?”
He could feel Richard tense before losing his composure and slumping, and he just looked so tired, Charlie was sure he’d never felt that terrible in his life. “Charlie...”
“Yeah, yeah,” He cut him off, not sure he could hear the words said out loud, his throat was closing up and his heart was aching against his chest. He tried to smile sheepishly, like it didn’t bother him. “Sorry, don’t know what I was thinking.” But he did, God, he did.
Richard looked at him with so much pity that Charlie thought he could scream, as if all of this wasn’t affecting him in the same way. As if his heart didn’t skip beats or he didn’t feel like the world was ending some nights. Maybe he didn’t, maybe that’s why they were here to begin with. He said he loves you, he doesn’t. Not enough, anway.
“We can’t Char,” No, you can’t. One day, he’d work up the courage to say everything he was thinking. If he ever got there with Rich still around. His chest tightened with pain at that thought. “There’s just so-"
“I know, I know, just please-” He pulled away, suddenly finding it incredibly hard to breathe. Maybe the world was ending. He wouldn’t mind. Hell, he probably wouldn’t even notice it if that stupid boy was in front of him. Richard slowly pushed his hand into Charlie’s, softly wrapping around his fingers and squeezing. Charlie looked over at him again, watched the way freckles danced across his face, the way his lips sat in an apologetic way, the way his eyes burned so bright repressing tears that Charlie could almost feel it radiating off him. And he smiled, because what else was he supposed to do? Though it was sad and forced, “I know.”
“I’m still yours, you know?” Charlie ignored the way even that had an expiry date.
“I think I’ll always be yours.” Rich grinned softly, pressing a small kiss to his nose.
“Good.”
it’s a game, it’s a game, it’s a game
But Richard kissed him and he knew he’d forget again, he would.
Later that night, Richard would whisper to him with his head resting on Charlie’s chest. “Have you ever been hurt?”
Charlie thought about it, really thought about it. He didn’t think he had, not fully, not as badly as he’d seen others. Sure, his parents weren’t the most supportive in the world, but they weren’t like Mr. Perry, and he was the youngest so he did get quite spoiled. He hadn’t been in love before. Nobody he cared too much about had died or left him. “No.” he said, finally.
“Never had a person that hurt you so bad you could never forget it, get past it, had it change you?” Charlie didn’t like at all where this was going.
“No, why?” He was afraid to hear the answer, the fear only growing with every second too long Cameron took to respond.
Charlie felt him take a breath, “I don’t wanna be that person for you.”
He thought his heart may have stopped. It might as well have. He knew, he knew that Rich probably would be. Maybe he already was. He could feel Richard sniffle softly, holding Charlie’s torso tighter as he stuffed his face into the other’s shirt. He could be vulnerable too, he could say it doesn’t matter if you are, I’ll still love you the same, but he didn’t. Instead he forced a smirk, pulled Rich closer, and joked. “Please, you flatter yourself too much.”
Richard snorted lightly, it wasn’t real, Charlie could tell that much. Though he didn’t seem to know where the real started and the pretend ended nowadays. The laugh turned quiet, too quiet. “I love you.”
not enough, not enough, not enough
“I love you too, Ri.”
________
Charlie stared at the floor like it had personally offended him, glaring daggers and willing himself not to cry. The world was spinning circles around him, or maybe he was spinning, he couldn’t tell anymore. He didn’t even know how he’d got here, all he knew was one second he was standing at the end of year party and Richard smiled at him from across the room, and the next he was gripping his mattress and trying not to throw up.
He should be celebrating. He was graduating. His best friend was dead. He was about to lose the only person that barely made it all feel okay.
2 years
I love you
I think I’ll always be yours
Neil’s dead
I don’t wanna be that person for you
I’m still yours, you know?
Neil Perry’s death is a tragic-
Charlie, we can’t-
Neil was my best friend-
You can’t hate me
I never have hope anyway
He pushed his head into his hands and squeezed at his skull, trying to make it all stop. The door opened and Richard walked in, kneeling down in front of Charlie and pressing a hand against his hands. “Char? You okay?”
Charlie raised his head up slowly, biting his lip so he wouldn’t cry out. “Why am I not enough?” For him. For Neil. For anyone. Why was he never fucking enough?
Richard physically winced, his hand retracting ever so slightly before pressing hard again. He took both of Charlie’s hands, wrapping them with his own, concern flooding his face. Charlie wanted to punch him, it would be so much easier to just hate him. “Did I do something?”
He almost laughed, it’s more what you don’t want to do. He knows it's unfair, knows Richard told him all of the boundaries ages ago, he does. But all of it feels like too much all the time, like he’s gasping for air under water. It’s his own fault, he should’ve stopped himself. He should’ve never let it get so far. But then he looks at Rich’s face, the way his eyebrows furrow and his eyes grow just a bit bigger, and how he always has some random fact about everything and the way he always seems to taste like coffee, even when they’ve just woken up. And he knows that on some level this was inevitable, they’d always end up here.
He needed to know, he needed to know if this was as real to Rich as it was to him. If it hurt the same, if it boiled his blood and left him aching for days. Or if that was all just in Charlie’s head, something he was doing to himself. “Am I?” He urged, “Am I enough?”
He sounded desperate and downright pathetic, he thought he’d never hated himself more. Richard’s grip on his hands tightened, his gaze hardening in an almost defiant way. “Of course you are, when have I ever-”
“Then why the fuck are we doing this?” Richard froze, and then he stood up and Charlie followed him. He was angry, scared, hurt, so many things all mixed into one at the same time. He wanted to punch Rich’s stupid face, kiss him, tell him how much being with him hurt, tell him he wouldn’t trade any of it for the world, wouldn’t trade him or anything in the world.
“I told you the second we-”
“But why? ” Richard recoiled, moving further away from the other boy. He covered up his emotions, straightening his body and clenching his jaw.
“What do you mean-”
“I love you! Don’t you fucking get that? It’s worked hasn’t it? You- You liked this didn’t you? Us? So why does it have to end? Why do you have to throw it away like it didn’t mean anything-”
“It did mean something!” Richard was shouting too now, not loud enough that it would travel through the walls but still somehow too loud to Charlie’s ears.
“Then why? ” They stayed there for a few moments, just staring, observing. Their breathing was ragged, too fast, chests heaving with the built up anger and hurt they both saw coming from ages ago.
“I can’t keep doing this forever Charlie, hiding, lying, it’s not gonna work.” He sounded resigned, he’d already decided that, for a moment Charlie saw how exhausted Rich actually looked.
“We could make it work,” He was pleading and he knew it. He couldn’t handle this, any of it. He was just a kid, he wasn’t supposed to be dealing with all of this. Feelings that were too big for him to face, and fear that overwhelmed him to the point of drowning. Please, he wanted to beg, please, I’m yours, I don’t know how to be anyone else's, I’ll never be anyone else's.
“No, no we can’t.” Charlie squeezed his eyes shut, his hands turning into fists and his nails clawing at his palm. If he pressed any harder he’d be drawing blood. He opened them again, ignoring the wetness he could feel on his face. Richard blinked, looking down. “You can’t hate me.”
Charlie chuckled humorlessly, “That’s the whole problem isn’t it?” Richard didn’t laugh, instead he bit the inside of his cheeks to hold back a sob and let the tears fall freely through his red rimmed eyes. “So, this is it?”
Tick, tock, tick, tock,
I love you
I’m still yours, you know?
Good.
Tick, tock, tick, tock
“Yeah,” Rich breathed out, “guess this is it.” boom.
And before he knew what was happening, Charlie fell back onto his bed, face scrunching up with the tears he didn’t know he had. He didn’t even care that Richard was still there, he should know. He should know how much he cared, how much he loved, how sick he felt. He should know.
Hope was for cowards. Charlie Dalton was the biggest coward of all.