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Cameron had red hair.
His mother did too, and his little sister. In fact, Charlie knew a lot of gingers, Meeks and Cameron being 2 of very many. Welton itself was full of people with orangish red hair, but for some reason Cameron’s had always seemed just a few shades brighter. Not by a lot, not so much that it was alarming, just more- well, saturated. He couldn’t explain it.
Come to think of it, he couldn’t explain a lot about Richard Cameron, even if technically he wasn’t that complicated at all. He knew too much about him though, noticed too much, felt every single smallest thing like it was a big red sign in front of his face. Like the fact that Cameron used to love little bugs, when they were younger.
Right now, they were about 13ish, and Cameron wasn’t Cameron, he was Richie. Purely because everytime Charlie had tried to call him Rich, he’d pointedly made a joke about who was actually rich, and that had to get annoying after a point.
Anyway, bugs.
Specifically ladybugs.
They were sitting in a park, the memory was fresh in Charlie’s head, it was the one closer to Cameron’s house. It had been a long day, and they were both sitting on the pavement beside a set of swings dreading the moment Mrs. Cameron would come out and tell them it was time to go home. Mr. Perry had come to pick Neil up only a few minutes ago.
Charlie was idly digging his hand into the wood chips, when he looked up to see Cameron grinning at something on the ground, Charlie couldn’t see what over the set of their legs. He’d pulled his hands out, still watching as Cameron's smile seemed to grow more. “What is it?” He’d asked finally.
Cameron’s head had snapped to him, his smile somehow becoming more reluctant. “Oh, nothing.” When Charlie had just raised an eyebrow, Cameron rolled his eyes, picking up his hand and moving it between them so Charlie could see the small ladybug crawling across it.
“Gross, get it off! What the hell-” He jumped back automatically, trying to smack at Cameron’s hands but he’d pulled it close to his body and then away, standing up like Charlie was the insane one.
“What- What are you doing? Stop!” Cameron kept moving away from him, though he was laughing lightly as he set the bug down on a leaf and watched as it crawled away.
Charlie kept looking at him, though he didn’t think he was doing it on purpose he couldn’t just not. Cameron had crouched behind the bush, and was still smiling fondly like he was seeing the wonders of the world in that tiny little bug. “Idiot,” He’d muttered. He remembers thinking that Cameron had really long eyelashes, and there was a single freckle on his cheek that was slightly bigger than the rest.
And then Cameron jumped slightly on his heel, “Oh, oh, Charlie look it’s spreading its wings.”
“It’s a bug, Richard.” But Cameron had just waved him off, still looking just as in awe, he’d kind of wondered what it would be like if Cameron had looked at him like that. Like he looked at a fucking ladybug. He’d tried not to laugh, instead he’d felt a smile tug on his lips, one that stayed for hours until he’d sat down for dinner way back at home.
(Years later, he’ll tell Richard he should’ve realized it then. Maybe if you weren’t so thick headed, he would respond, though he’d be blushing, and Charlie would only smile in return.)
___________
Fall came and left, any trace of it existing buried deep beneath blankets of pearly white snow. Charlie never really liked the snow all that much, besides of course, on Christmas. It made the walk to town, or anywhere for that matter, needlessly tiring and cold. It made the cuffs of his jeans wet, his hair got all frizzy, and his nose and cheeks much too red for his liking.
It was one of those days, where absolutely nothing was going right that he found himself trying not to burst a vein from pure annoyance and anger. (Hormonal, he would say now, but back then he hadn’t known.) He was kicking the muddy brown snow around, aiming for nothing at all. Neil was behind him, trying to get Charlie to wear a scarf before he froze completely.
His father had said he would need a scarf. He wasn’t going to admit his father was right.
“I’m fine. ” He said, for the millionth time, rubbing harshly at his cheeks. He knew they had to be a bright red, the rest of his skin being much paler because of the weather would only heighten it. It made him feel, he didn’t know the word, girly. Like he was blushing. Which was ridiculous, Neil too looked pretty red and he was fine. But it irked something in him, something he couldn’t explain.
“We don’t know how much longer--”
“ Neil. ” Neil groaned, finally sitting back down on the bench and piling the scarf on himself instead. They were waiting for Charlie’s parents to get here and pick them up for Christmas break.
It was a few more minutes of idle waiting, and debating just going back inside the school when Neil noticed Richard walking out and called out to him. Charlie, weirdly, felt the urge to look in the other direction. Like he’d been caught. He fought it, turning towards the entrance of the school and watching as Rich waved, walking over to them like a waddling penguin.
He got cold easy, he’d said, a while ago actually. The first winter they’d known each other. So it was no surprise that there was another coat atop his Welton one, and a wool hat balancing on his head. It was a bit too small, Charlie noticed as he walked closer, it wasn’t big enough to be pulled down and cover his ears properly. Still, Charlie wanted to grab the scarf from Neil (he was already wearing 2, for God's sake) and wrap it around his bright scarlet ears.
Right. He looked away, slapping at his face lightly right as Richard had made it to them. “Merry almost Christmas.” Neil said in greeting, grinning under all of the fur from the clothing around his neck.
Charlie snorted, “He isn’t going to have a merry Christmas until we get our results back.”
“It’s true,” Richard nodded, “It’s ridiculous they make you wait.”
“ Some of us are just glad the tests are over.” Neil responded.
“Yes well, I’m special I guess.” He grinned, and Charlie had to bite down on a smile. He rubbed at his cheeks again, a bit harder after feeling the cold nip at them. Maybe he should have taken the scarf.
Rich turned to him, frowning slightly, “Stop that, what are you doing?”
Neil answered before he could, “He hates how pink his cheeks get.” and goddamn him. Charlie was just going to say that he was cold. Like, you know, a normal boy.
Camerons frown deepened, he stepped forward, pulling Charlie’s hands away from his face. It wasn’t anything extraordinary, they’d obviously touched on numerous occasions, but Charlie could feel Neil’s eyes on them like dirt sliding down his back. He didn’t know why it felt awful, when he glanced over Neil’s gaze held absolutely nothing negative. Still, the feeling stayed, long after that moment.
“You look cute,” His voice was quiet, probably in an effort to make sure it seemed sincere. Charlie still thought he was making fun of him. “Don’t do that, you’ll hurt yourself. Just get a scarf if you’re cold.”
He felt something hot curl in his stomach, like a fire erupting and travelling through his veins. Fury he’d decided. Which, in retrospect should and did feel quite dumb, Richard hadn’t said anything horrible.
Still, he’d scoffed, pulling back. “Don’t tell me what to do, Cameron.”
Charlie pretended to ignore the small flash of hurt that moved through his features.
( It wasn’t fury, he would say later. I’m sorry. And Richard would laugh, setting down a plate of eggs and hash in front of him before kissing his forehead. What’s gotten into you, today? Charlie would say he didn’t know.)
_________
There was a universe of thoughts that resonated between the two of them, or so it felt anyway. Each one bouncing off the edges of the bubble where they ended and the real world began. He thinks there was a singular point, he couldn’t quite label the exact moment, where he began to crave that universe more than his normalcy.
And of course it scared him. Like a guilty pleasure though, if no one knew it then does it really count?
“I cannot sleep.” Charlie announced, more to the ceiling than to Richard. He hummed, turning to his side so he could face his roommate and watched as Charlie did the same. His eyes looked quite tired, like he was barely trying to keep them open.
Richard smiled, slowly, “Hi.” He felt his heart ache softly, folding in on itself.
I think I might be dying, was what Charlie almost said. Go to bed is what he wanted to say. “Your eyes look really-” He’d paused, apparently catching up with his mouth.
Cameron frowned, looking up as if he’d be able to look at his own eyes before returning his gaze to Charlie. “Really what?”
Blue.
Pretty.
Lovely.
“Tired.” He cleared his throat, turning just slightly away so he was focusing on the small wall space besides Rich’s head.
“Oh.” He rubbed at them, “I’m not tired though.” Charlie didn’t say anything in response, he wouldn’t admit it but he felt his heart beat, every single one. It wasn’t fast, per se, just loud and almost sluggish. He tried to count the rivets in the wall. “You alright?”
“Course.” He thought his answer was too immediate. It probably was.
“Okay,” though Charlie didn’t think he believed him. Richard waited a few moments, Charlie kept counting, and he got up and off his bed. His movements were slow, careful. Richard Cameron was slow and careful.
He stepped over the few textbooks on the ground, Charlie watched his every movement. And he sat so near the edge of Charlie’s bed that it was a surprise how he didn’t fall right off. “What’re you doing?”
Rich shrugged, “Keeping you company.”
Charlie’s eyes darted between the bed and his roommate. “Why- why so close?” He thought he might’ve phrased that awfully.
“Would you rather I-”
“No.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
The night blurred out before his eyes minute by minute. He didn’t shift once, because at some point Rich had rested his hand against Charlie’s shoulder, rubbing soft circles with every tick the alarm clock made, and he wouldn’t want to move if the world ended.
( You knew, then? Richard would ask, his face still holding lines from the pillow. He’d just woken up, when Charlie had started speaking. I didn’t let myself know, but I did. Rich would nod, a sleepy smile on his face as he stretched, reaching to his side table for the cup of coffee he knew Charlie had already placed. I think I always knew. But Richard didn’t hear that bit.)
___________
“I don’t believe in love.” That was what a boy had said in his class, during their unit on Romeo and Juliet, the only minute Charlie had paid attention. “I think you can love anyone, but it’s all temporary, after a point you’re not in love you’re just used to them. You know what you’re supposed to feel, so you feel it. You know what you’re supposed to say, so you say it. It’s all- tedious. I think.”
Maybe his name was Sean, Charlie didn’t know. But the words bounced around in his head relentlessly. He didn’t agree, necessarily. He didn’t think about it much, actually. But he didn’t agree.
It was the only class discussion thus far that Richard hadn’t participated in (Charlie still called him Rich in his head, just not aloud), and Charlie thought he might be aching to hear his opinion. Which made him feel a little stupid, he didn’t understand love enough to be falling in it, or he didn’t think so. It would sound odd if he just asked him. He’d come to find that he liked hearing Rich’s thoughts regardless, it went from annoying to well- not. It felt almost calming in a sense, normalcy was laced in every tone of his voice. Familiar.
You feel more familiar to me than anyone ever has.
He didn’t say that.
“Boring class.” He’d said instead, his binder balancing awkward between his forearm and thigh as they walked down the hall.
“Wasn’t so bad.” Meeks responded. The others nodded, or agreed, all of it sounding like white noise to him though.
Richard didn’t speak.
They walked in a silence that hung between tension and comfort, their silences almost always did. Charlie set his binder and textbooks down, organizing them so he’d have his trig homework ready to go once he got back from his shower. He glanced at his roommate, so quick you would think he was doing something wrong. Maybe he was. He tried not to think like that, it made him snap at people that didn’t deserve it. Well, a person.
“No shower today?” Rich asked, once Charlie was standing by his desk too long.
“No, yeah I’m going.” He tried at a half smile, grabbing some clothes. He paused right before the door, turning back around.
It was not new that he found Richard Cameron intriguing, but you would think that at some point he would stop. He hasn’t, apparently. He watched as careful fingers undid shoelaces, the quiet concentration in choosing his afternoon book, the light tapping his foot did when something was bothering him.
“Seriously Charlie, go.” There was an awkward urgence to his voice, a strain in his throat.
“I don’t want to.” He did, he always felt gross and sweaty after school hours, but he had a feeling if he left the room he’d be missing something.
Richard sputtered in slight frustration Charlie thought was unfounded, he straightened his back out before turning to face Charlie. There were a million questions on his face, uncertainties, so many so loud that he didn’t need to say them for Charlie to hear. Still, he wished he would. It kind of broke his heart in a different way, to see those things displayed so messily but prominent.
But he should be uncertain.
Charlie realized for the first time, he didn’t know what was happening. He’d always thought he’d had some grasp over this, whatever it was. He was a step ahead, he knew, even if he didn’t let his everyday brain get hold of the information.
He felt a bit helpless, like he was lost at sea, floating with the tide but not moving anywhere.
Richard might be the tide.
His brain was too muddled to grab the metaphor properly.
They kept staring, and staring, like at some point they’d spot something that solidified their dream like situation. “Is it real?” Was all Charlie had said. He should be more specific, but it’s easier to be vague. If Rich said ‘ what is? ’ he’d make something up, and let his organs bleed out in silence. If he didn’t-
“Yes.” Charlie didn’t know what he’d expected, but Cameron’s voice was steady. “For me.”
“For me.” Charlie echoed. More silence. He hadn’t thought this far ahead. What now?
He could hear the story in his head, then the two came together, in a long awaited embrace. They wept, and they loved, and their story went on too beautiful for words.
He was not in a story. He was just a dumb, tired boy.
They came together anyway.
Fingertips melted into skin, and lips into lips, the soft taste of apples mingling into coffee breath. He can’t remember who was who, now. All he could remember thinking was God, what a poetic way to die.
(He didn’t need to tell Richard about that one, he already knew. Charlie thinks sometimes that he knew it better. You’re the most familiar person I’ve met, he’d say instead, when he found himself thinking too much about it. I will never leave. And Richard would laugh in his ear, the sound still just as intoxicating as the first time he’d heard it. I won’t let you.
Sean, it turns out, was very very wrong.)
___________
Charlie used to hate that he couldn’t remember the detail of things. The small movement of a bright copper red hair against a temple, the scratching of a pencil way into the night because if you need help, you can ask Cameron, and the distant sound of rain against the window while his nose was stuffed in the crook of a neck.
He thought he needed to hoard all of those moments, memorize every inch and second of each memory as if they would all be ripped right out of him. He could see them, even now, getting slowly carved out. The loss that came with the find.
But he didn’t. He forgot some things, and he smiled when Rich reminded him. There were so many memories now that he couldn't hope to bottle all of them up.
Richard grinned over his new fluffy socks, “We’ll just keep making more.”
“Okay.” Charlie smiled in return.