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In retrospect, Richard Cameron and Charlie Dalton hated each other at first sight. They met before Welton, and soon grew hatred for each other ever since. The only thing bonded them together was the relationship with Neil Perry.
One time Charlie brought two strange girls with him into the cave where the poets society was gathering. Richard had always been apprehensive about these meetings, should anyone found out that they had broken a good 10 rules of the school, they would be doomed. But he went anyway, he didn’t want to be the left-out, which Charlie would be pleased if he did. The cave was dimly lit, the flickering candlelight casting shadows on the walls. Charlie was in his element, animated and carefree, reciting verses with exaggerated flair. The girls giggled, leaning closer, and Richard felt a sharp twist in his gut. Maybe anger, maybe desolation, maybe self-pity. He didn’t want to know anyhow.
As they sang poems, their voices harmonizing like a sweet melody, Richard sat in the corner, he was nothing but a silent observer. He hated how easily Charlie charmed everyone around him. The way he could light up a room while Richard lingered in the shadows, feeling like an outsider in his own life.
One time Charlie couldn’t sleep at night and he kept tossing and twisting in his bed. Richard lay there, counting the minutes, wavering between ignoring Charlie as he was supposed to or asking what was wrong. Charlie’s cough grew louder, more frequent, cutting through the silence like an unwelcome guest. ‘This is what you get for playing in the snow for hours last night instead of going straight back to the dorm from the cave, dumbass’, thought Richard bitterly. But part of him felt a twinge of concern. He didn’t want to admit it, but he cared—maybe too much. Charlie never listened to him, even though Richard was right.
“You’re good?”
“Not now Cameron, ‘m not in the mood of being made fun of.”
“I’m not making fun of you right now. I told you guys it was a bad idea to not go straight home, it was freezing out there and none of you actually listened to me!”
“And I told you that you could leave alone just fine, yeah?”
Richard was unable to empty his thoughts and drift off to sleep till Charlie’s coughing eventually stopped. And Charlie was left with a confused remembrance of a warm towel on his forehead the next morning. He blinked at Richard, the moment hanging between them like a fragile thread. “Did you…?” - “Just shut up, Dalton,” Richard replied, trying to mask his embarrassment with irritation. But inside, he was unsettled by the warmth of his own care, the way it twisted into something resembling affection.
One time the poets society and Mr. Keating went out for Neil’s play. The atmosphere in the theater was electric, a tangible buzz of anticipation swirling through the air as the audience settled into their seats. Richard situated himself on a seat next to Todd as they were pushed in hurry for the play to start. Out of Richard’s surprise, Charlie plopped down next to him, a wide grin on his face that seemed to light up the dim theater. Excitement mingled with dread and anxiety ignited a silent thrill deep inside him. Charlie was a whirlwind of energy, and Richard couldn’t help but feel a thrill deep inside him. It was exhilarating and terrifying all at once. What if someone noticed him sneaking glances at Charlie? Or worse, what if Charlie caught him?
He was acutely aware of Charlie’s presence, the warmth radiating from him, making it hard to concentrate on anything else. The play was unfolding before them, but Richard’s attention was divided. He tried to focus on the performance, but his peripheral vision was drawn to Charlie, who was utterly engrossed. As the actors took the stage, Richard felt the tension in his chest tighten. Charlie shifted in his seat, leaning forward with rapt attention, and Richard caught a fleeting glimpse of his profile. The way the light caught his features made Richard’s heart race even more. He had to remind himself to breathe, to not let the thrill overwhelm him.
Until Charlie turned towards Richard, their eyes locking for a brief moment. Richard felt a jolt, a rush of adrenaline that made him want to look away, but something held him there. Charlie’s expression softened, a hint of understanding flickering in his gaze. It was as if they were sharing a secret in the crowded theater, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken tension that hung between them.
“Just wait until the big scene,” Charlie whispered, his voice low and conspiratorial. “Neil is going to blow everyone away tonight!”
Richard couldn’t respond, too caught up in the moment. The play continued, but he was lost in the feeling of being next to Charlie, the thrill of their proximity washing over him. He was terrified of being discovered, but at the same time, the fear only heightened the excitement. As the actors delivered their lines, Richard found himself stealing glances at Charlie more frequently, each one feeling like a small victory. There was something intoxicating about the way Charlie animatedly reacted to the performance, his laughter and gasps drawing Richard in further.
One time Richard found himself crying, but it was to no avail, no one could hear him. Neil Perry was gone. Neil Perry, the only person who knew Richard’s feelings for Charlie, they had been good friends since forever. He would have been alive, could have lived a successful life, could have not stopped shining. “What should I do Neil, what should I do, what should I do? Neil, this is so unfair for you, you could have been a doctor, but it all messed up, unfair, I knew this wouldn’t end well, I told you so, no one listened to me, I told you so…”
One time, “I say let Keating fry” blurted out of Richard’s mouth. It was spoken out of rage, because why none of his friends understood what trouble they had gotten into. “It’s about being smart. We can’t just follow him blindly!”
Charlie stood up abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor, and in one swift motion, he closed the distance between them. “You don’t get it, do you? You’re so busy trying to be a good student that you’re blind to what’s really happening here!”
Before Richard could respond, Charlie’s fist connected with his jaw, the pain sharp and immediate. Richard stumbled back, shock and betrayal coursing through him. The room went silent, all eyes on them, the weight of the moment pressing down like a heavy blanket. It’s wrong anyway, his feelings for Charlie Dalton. But he couldn’t help but feel a profound sense of loss. He was heartbroken—not just from the physical pain, but from the realization that their bond had fractured in an instant.