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Charlie Dalton had been expelled. He was set to leave soon and currently was in his and Cameron’s room grabbing his things.
Cameron watched him from his side of the room. Cameron told himself that he was trying to keep his distance from the other boy, but part of him knew that if he really wanted to be away from him then he would just leave the room. Cameron had no obligation to stay as Charlie packed, in fact it would have probably been better if he wasn’t here. Still, he stayed where he was. Charlie had his back turned to him, but Cameron could see the anger in the way Charlie grabbed the remainder of his things. The aggression in his movements. The fact that he looked tense. Scared.
As Cameron watched him, he absentmindedly brought a hand up to his face. The image of a fist coming for him flashes in his mind, it had happened so fast he wasn’t even sure if it felt real. If it wasn’t for the pain he felt and the blood he had spent a few hours cleaning up, he might not have believed it actually happened. The blood and pain was gone now, but he still felt liquid dripping down his face and the sensation of Charlie's fist to his nose. He thinks the feelings will haunt him for the rest of his life.
"Are you going to say anything, or are you just going to stand there?" Charlie spoke, breaking the silence in the room. His voice was hoarse and words stabbed through the room like a knife. He didn’t turn back to look at Cameron, but Cameron still felt like he had to look down to the floor to avoid a problem. Cameron was sure Charlie knew that he was watching him, there was no way he didn’t, he wasn’t sure why Charlie speaking was what caused him to look away.
"I have nothing to say to you." Cameron replied curtly. That wasn't true, it was never true. There was always so much Cameron could say to him, so much that he wished he would. So much that he knew he never could. None of it would be something Charlie would care to hear, things that would only make things worse between them. Right now the words that lived on the tip of his tongue consisted of small strings of 'I just wanted to help', 'I didn't want it to turn out like this', and 'I'm sorry'. None of those words mattered now, none of them would change anything. Still, Cameron didn’t dare to speak any of them.
“Then why are you here?” Charlie spoke, Cameron could hear the glare in his tone, Cameron winced at the words. Not due to the tone, he was used to Charlie speaking to him in that tone, in a bitter way he took comfort in the familiarity of it. He winced because Charlie saw right through him, right through his bluff. Why was Cameron here? Did it matter? Cameron stayed quiet.
At that moment Cameron glanced up at Charlie again, and there he saw Charlie looking right back at him. Cameron was right, Charlie was glaring right at him. Along with the anger in them, his eyes looked misty. Like he wanted to cry, or he couldn’t cry anymore. Cameron didn’t like to see him like that, but he couldn’t look away now. It would be like backing down from the final challenge that was Charlie Dalton. Cameron brought a hand up to his neck and absently started fidgeting with the cross that hung there. A nervous habit. “What do you want, Charlie?” Cameron finally said, the name felt wrong on his tongue.
Charlie stared at him for a moment, like he wasn’t expecting the question. “You don’t want the answer to that.” Charlie eventually replied, then gave a bitter, humorless laugh. He wasn’t laughing at Cameron, but he wasn’t laughing with him either. It was like he just needed to fill a spill, needed something else to release some of the vile that was building in his throat.
“Maybe I do.” Cameron spoke, despite the fact that his mind yelled at him to just stop talking. To leave. He spoke with a false confidence that he would never actually hold.
“Drop it.” Charlie breathed out. It wasn’t a suggestion. The two of them continued to stare at each other, like both of them were willing–hoping–that the other one would look away first. Neither of them did. They stared like that for what felt like a lifetime, but it couldn’t have been more than a minute. Then Cameron watched as Charlie took a step toward him. Then another, and another, until they were barely an inch away from each other.
Charlie didn’t say anything, he just stood there staring Cameron down, daring him to speak up again despite him telling him not to. It was like a trick question on a test. Cameron shouldn’t speak, he never should have. He was falling into territory that he shouldn’t, it was the most dangerous game. Cameron looked up at Charlie, his hand still wrapped around the cross on his neck “What do you want, Charlie?” he asked again. The name still felt like poison in his mouth.
The air in the room was still for a moment, once again they just stood there staring each other down. Then Charlie moved again, he brought a hand up to grab Cameron by the collar of his shirt. Then he pulled him forward, getting rid of any of the remaining distance between them and bringing their lips together. The kiss wasn’t kind, but nothing between them ever was. Cameron barely had the time to react or kiss back before Charlie pulled away and pushed Cameron back. They still weren't very far from each other. Charlie stared at Cameron still, but it was different this time. They were no longer locked in a stare down. Now Charlie was just staring at Cameron’s face. He released Cameron’s collar and brought his hand up to touch the place he had punched Cameron earlier. The touch was much lighter this time, a feather touch. Cameron thinks this will haunt him too.
“Looks like it didn’t bruise, lucky you.” Charlie spoke, before he chuckled again. The same release of emotions as before. Cameron barely processed his words. His head was spinning from everything that had just happened, his mouth felt cold.
“Well,” Charlie moved his hand and held Cameron’s cheek for a moment, before he pat the space and pulled his arm away “,I hope it hurts.” After that it was like the spell had broken, Charlie turned around and went back to grabbing his things. He picked up the box he had been shoving things in and he walked out the door, not saying another word, not looking back at Cameron.
Cameron stared at the door after he left, choking out a shaky breath. When was the last time he was actually breathing today? He wasn’t sure he was during the whole conversation. The air was trapped in his throat. Cameron brought a hand up to his mouth and held it there. ‘I hope it hurts’. The words were ringing in his ears.
Cameron didn’t think Charlie was talking about his face.