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Today is one of those days where the afternoon feels like it’s had all the colors scraped out of it. The sky and pavement and windows and the glass at the bus shelter are all gray. Even the stickers smacked all over the glass seem dull.
I adjust my backpack and keep walking toward Charlie. My Charlie.
He’s sitting on the bench inside the shelter with his hood up, and his schoolbag braced between his ankles, one earbud in, with his phone face-down against his thigh.
Something tightens in my chest, it’s not that he’s alone, he likes that sometimes, or even that he seems a little sad, it’s kinda weird how still he is.
When I get closer, his eyes lift to mine, and his face softens, an exhausted sort of hello, before he looks down again.
“Hi,” I whisper.
“Hi.”
I sit beside him, our shoulders touching enough so he knows I’m there if he wants my warmth. I want to ask what happened and tell him again, that he never has to pretend with me, which is probably the exact sort of thing that would make him feel like he has to say something. And I don’t want that either. So I stay quiet, leaning forward with my elbows on my knees, and watch a crisp packet scrape along the curb in the wind.
Charlie’s music is loud enough that I can just hear the blur of it, there’s a quick drumbeat, then there’s a weird gray silence just like the day when the song ends.
He moves his hand, and for a moment I wonder if I sat to close, if he wanted more space, or maybe he’s reaching for his phone, but instead he digs the second earbud out of his jacket pocket and offers it to me.
“Thanks, Char.”
He barely smiles, but his fingers linger against mine for a second before righting his phone that was about to slip to the ground. The next song has already started as I fit the earbud, and it almost blasts my eyebrows off, “Fuck, Charlie!” Guitar and drums beat a wildly furious rhythm that bombards me.
It makes him laugh, and that is the best feeling ever.
He turns it down a notch for me, but his smile quickly vanishes as he closes his eyes.
We listen, the music pours straight through me, and into him, well, I guess it’s the other way around. I can feel the beat in us both through our shoulders touching, and Charlie’s fingers start tapping against his knee, at first barely there like he doesn’t realize, then harder as if he knows how to play this song on the drums.
His shoe nudges mine, I nudge back. Then our knees.
The song breaks into a chorus so radiant and angry it feels like opening a window in a room that’s been shut for months! Charlie takes a good, proper breath beside me, and he leans his shoulder into mine and then finally, rests his head against mine.
I don’t ask if he’s okay now, because I know he’s not ready for that question. I do my best to be warm and solid and stay pressed against him, while his playlist drags him back toward himself.
When the bus finally arrives, Charlie sighs and pulls the earbud free. “I gotta go. Mum's waiting, ya know?”
“Yeah.” I stand with him, our hands brushing as he picks up his bag. “I’ll text you in a bit, okay?”
He nods, kissing my cheek quickly. “Okay.”
Then, a second later, the doors fold shut behind him, and I wave as he finds a window seat and waves back as the bus pulls away.
My phone is already in my hand.
From Nick: I’m nearly deaf from your music, but I’m willing to forgive it
From Charlie: you should know that about me by now xx
I grin down at it, the whole flat gray day feels brighter, and I hope it does for him, too.
Me: I love you Charlie Spring