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Charlie had never been good at emotions. He’d been that kid in class who was taken to another room to look at pictures of faces and decipher their emotions. He’d learnt the basics (frown = sad, smile = happy, open mouth = surprise) but, as soon as things got complicated, such as when fake smiles were brought into the equation, he tapped out. It wasn’t just other people’s emotions either: it included his own too. Nor did it stop with emotions: it continued with sensations like pain and touch, as he often struggled to identify where exactly he was hurting. Charlie’s favourite examples were all the ‘growing pains’ he had endured as a kid (were they in his knee or his ankle?) and the anxious stomach aches that followed him into adulthood (was it in his side or around his belly button?) All in all, reading emotions for Charlie was a lot harder than reading a book, which he couldn’t do either. Perhaps there was some correlation between illiteracy and emotional intelligence.
When Charlie spent time with his best friend, Mac, he often found himself scrunching his eyes up in an attempt to understand how he was feeling. He could just about identify the tingles in his fingertips whenever they brushed up against Mac. He could also acknowledge that there was a warm fuzziness somewhere inside him (his bets were on it being in the pit of his stomach) and that, occasionally, he’d need to gulp in some extra air when they got close. The sensations didn’t make him hate Mac, so he figured they were pleasant enough and potentially even a positive thing.
Charlie wondered if friends always made people feel like that, but then Dennis came along and made Charlie feel different. Dennis was complicated, often wearing a frown and furrowed eyebrows, regardless of his mood. Within a week of meeting him, Charlie realised Dennis wore a mask worthy of a theatrical performance and there was no point in trying to pull it off. Mac loved Dennis, which Charlie was almost certain of because of the way Mac’s face lit up whenever they hung out. Perhaps unrelated to Mac’s feelings, Dennis made Charlie feel… bad. Dennis made Charlie’s eyes burn sometimes, and he made Charlie frown more than he would normally. Sometimes he made Charlie want to yell at the top of his lungs, but he always held it in so that he didn’t upset Mac.
Thankfully, since they’d become adults, Mac had learnt to be himself again, rather than being an extension of Dennis. That meant Charlie learnt to like Dennis and, although it had taken years, positive feelings were beginning to outweigh the negative when Charlie was in his presence. Mac going back to being Mac also meant the nice tingles and the fuzziness returned in full force, which made Charlie look forward to the time they spent together again.
If Mac were a book and Charlie could read, he’d have read him cover to cover repeatedly to memorise the text. Of all the aliens on the planet, Mac was the one Charlie strived to understand the most. His book used big words like “suppressed” and “despondent” that Charlie didn’t understand, so he ended up filling in the blanks with assumptions more often than not. So, when Mac turned up at 3 am on a dark Thursday night, Charlie analysed him as best as he could. His eyes started on the way tufts of Mac’s hair were sticking up before moving past the dark circles around his eyes to his pursed lips. He observed the jacket loosely hanging off his shoulders, zipped halfway. He stared at the trainers on Mac’s feet, one untied and the other tied in a neat little bow. Scrunching his eyes up, Charlie tried to put the pieces together. Frown = sad, he knew that much. Mac usually took pride in his appearance, so the hair and the untied lace indicated something negative and out of the ordinary. All in all, Charlie concluded that something was wrong.
“I need to talk to you,” Mac eventually said once he realised Charlie was too caught up in his head to greet him. Charlie blinked, replaying Mac’s shaky tone in his mind. It screamed bad. Negative feelings. “Will you go for a walk with me?”
Going out in a grubby shirt and white sweatpants that were littered in holes didn’t feel ideal, so Charlie frowned. He grabbed his jacket and slipped on a pair of mismatching socks that had been discarded on the floor some time ago. After putting on his own shoes, he stepped outside and shut the front door behind him so that he didn’t wake Frank up. Mac didn’t say a word until they reached the end of Charlie’s dimly lit street. Only then did he mutter, “I’m gay.”
Charlie didn’t mean to laugh. It had just come out before he could stop it. He didn’t even find the situation comical; it was simply the tension in the air that made Charlie want to lighten the mood. He kept his gaze fixated on the ground so that he didn’t see Mac’s (most likely) adverse reaction. “Sorry.” He ended up mumbling.
Luckily, Mac knew Charlie. He knew that Charlie wasn’t malicious; he just had some weird quirks, like being the kind of guy who would laugh at a funeral out of discomfort. “I like guys, Charlie.” Mac reiterated, just in case Charlie missed the point.
“I know,” Charlie shoved his hands in his pockets to feign nonchalance. He figured Mac had known about his sexuality for a long time, considering his eyes were constantly lingering on men and he almost definitely had a thing for Dennis at some point.
“You… know?”
“Well, uh, yeah… You haven’t been on a date with a girl in ages, so I guess I was suspicious.”
Mac folded his arms and stuck his bottom lip out. His emotions were complicated, but Charlie was sure they were still negative. “There’s something else too.” Mac stopped and turned to fully face Charlie. Mac was avoiding eye contact, which was unlike him, so Charlie’s heart started to pound just a little quicker, and he found himself gulping in a bit more air. “Well, I think, deep down, I’ve known for years because,” Mac scratched the back of his head and groaned. “I’ve liked someone for a long time.”
“Oh, I know,” Charlie cursed himself for interrupting. He used to get told off for it in school all the time, but that had never stopped him. It was just difficult for him to identify when it was his turn to speak.
“You do..?”
The silence that followed indicated that Charlie was probably supposed to say something. “Yeah, you’ve been obsessed with Dennis since-”
Maybe Mac should have been told off for not waiting his turn to speak too, because he cut Charlie off. “Wait. Dennis?! No, no, you’ve got it all wrong.” Charlie scrunched up his face, wondering if he’d been misreading Mac’s book of emotions that entire time. He should have known. He was illiterate, after all. “It was you, you dumbass. I think I’m in love with you, bro.”
Charlie had never been sure about love. His picture of romance had been painted using dirty, watered-down paints and broken paintbrushes. His mom told him that love was a quick exchange; love was sleeping with somebody and barely speaking to them afterwards. The media told him that love was kissing and roses and the perfect Valentine’s Day. Dennis told him that love was a myth, made up by men to sell more shit in February. Whatever Charlie and Mac had, it was none of those things. What they had was the safety to be themselves and the occasional comforting touch when the rest of the world felt daunting.
“You gonna say anything?” Mac asked, eyes thin. He might’ve been irritated; Charlie wasn’t sure. For a second, they shared an uncomfortable silence, both too wrapped up in their heads to acknowledge the other.
Then Charlie swallowed. He shifted his weight from his left foot to his right. His stomach tingled and started to feel funny. “What does it feel like? Being in love, I mean?”
A deep frown spread across Mac’s face. “I dunno…”
“You don’t have to answer that. I’m sorry.”
“No, no. It’s just hard to describe. It’s like… I want to be with you all the time,” Charlie smiled at Mac’s words because he definitely wanted to be with Mac all the time too. “You make me laugh a lot, even when your jokes are shit.” They had spent countless nights laughing together at absolutely nothing, high on the moment (and whatever they had huffed). “I find you attractive,” As Mac’s cheeks flushed a deep pink, Charlie acknowledged that Mac was objectively handsome too. “When I’m with you, my hands get sweaty and my heart beats a bit faster and-” Mac let out a loud groan and hid his face with his hand. “This is so stupid. Please don’t laugh at me.”
For once, Charlie wasn’t laughing. He had scrunched up his face again as he focused on his own beating heart and sweaty palms. All that time, had it been love? Had Charlie been in love with Mac since they were kids? Charlie’s eyes burst open as he shoved down his desire to understand emotions and relished in the moment. He took a deep breath and intertwined his sweaty hands with Mac’s. Charlie had always despised eye contact, but that time, he couldn’t stop himself from getting lost in Mac’s eyes. Time slowed, the wind ceased, and Charlie’s emotional illiteracy was forgotten as he took a step towards Mac. Their chests touched, and the contact set Charlie’s skin ablaze. Closing his eyes, Charlie kissed his best friend.
Kissing had always grossed Charlie out, but at that moment, he wondered whether he had just been kissing the wrong people. When they separated, Charlie’s mind screamed at him to kiss him again. Again! Again! Again!
“You know what?” Charlie whispered. He was unaware of how much he had been grinning until his face started to ache. “I’m in love with you too.”
Maybe Charlie couldn’t point at a face and distinguish whether someone was frightened or shocked. Maybe he couldn’t always identify where in his body he was aching. Maybe he wasn’t always certain whether he was excited or anxious, but that was okay. He knew he enjoyed hanging out with and being close to Mac and that was all that mattered.