alternatively, three moments of clarity and one moment of heartbreak. [ feat. @royisms ]
“you can call me charles”
it’s a late night at the office and there’s an early morning the next day. both charlie and amanda know this, but it never stopped them from staying up late, and it doesn’t tonight. with both of them living such busy lives - charlie a newly elected government official and amanda running a successful campaign herself, the pair found every moment they could. sometimes, it was 3am between a bottle of red wine and some green.
charlie pulls themselves off their fire escape, extinguishing the remainder of the joint.
i once set off every smoke alarm in this building, they told her earlier when she watched them climb out the fire escape and light a joint for the first time. i’m not letting that happen again. and although he most certainly did in the coming months, that night, charlie wandered back in without having to deal with the fire department.
midnight conversations about shit neither of them understood were common. about god and science, about skeptics and supernatural, about the fear of the unknown. one might have argued they were too optimistic for their own good sometimes, but charlie enjoyed the late nights and early mornings with amanda, where they could fall asleep with her in their arms, their tall body wrapped around her small frame.
charlie barely remembers it, but in the back of his memory sits a piece of a conversation they’ve had only had with a handful of other people.
“you can call me charles, you know that right?” they whisper, eyes fluttered closed. “i don’t use it in the house because people are assholes.” their words begin to slow slightly, as if the speed was being turned down. “but i like the name. it’s why i never changed it fully. i just don’t like giving those dickheads power over me. but you can call me charles… if you want.”
“the breakup”
they are never at a loss for words. of all the public speaking and here they are, sitting on the kitchen counter, fumbling over syllables. they wonder if she notices. they wonder if she can tell every time they sit on a counter now they think of him. it’s an idle distraction - although not completely harmless - for the moment. for some reason, knowing what they’ve planned to do tonight has taken charlie’s brain through the ringer. they wrote something down and scrapped it a hundred times and how exactly do you break up with someone who’s perfect for you but the timing just isn’t right?
they near spill the words out of their mouths at the same time, and it takes charlie a second to process what’s happening, but they laugh about it after… a long time after. at first charlie is sad about the fact that they both thought there was too much going on to keep the other in their life. something about that fact makes it all the more painful.
“just friends”
tequila before a what’s sure to be a shitty week in the house is common at this point, but tonight, there was something else behind the drinks.
after rekindling their friendship, charlie and amanda find themselves stumbling out of the one bar that’s open past two am, holding onto each other. charlie’s probably more drunk than amanda, or at least, he believes that’s the case. his tall, lithe frame is teetering on his heels. his hands hold her body for balance even though she is much smaller than they are. still, there’s no denying they’re both out of it. she runs ahead for a moment, and charlie nearly topples over before they catch their balance. they watch her spin in front of them and charlie smiles, admires the way her body moves again, hopes they aren’t crossing a line with their eyes. they show off the new piercing sitting in their left ear. charlie asks if maybe next they should get a belly button piercing and their laughter elicits a couple of grumbled groans from annoyed neighbors.
the taxi ride back to amanda’s was something charlie didn’t realize they were waiting for. the stories are familiar until amanda whispers “you know, you were some of the best kisses i’ve ever had.” and charlie smiles and says thank you and part of him wishes she had said something more.
and as if god herself heard charlie’s prayer, he feels amanda’s breath fall out ever so gently…. “do it again?”
they barely make it into amanda’s apartment before charlie’s hands move to amanda’s waist, holding her as if letting her go again would be the worst decision in the world. their bodies intertwine again, and this isn’t the first time, but god, charlie knows this is the worst.
she says “we can call this closure right?”
he can’t help but think, no. i can’t. they don’t say that out loud.
“at your door”
that hot july night, amanda shows up unexpected.
charlie’s glasses sit on the bridge of their nose, hair tied in a messy top knot. they move their papers aside to get up off the floor when the doorbell rings and their eyebrows twist together for a moment as they look through the peephole in their door, not sure who would be stopping by tonight. like second nature, charlie slides open the deadbolt and the door as soon as he sees who’s on the other side. before it’s even is fully open, charlie’s immediately asking questions. what’s up? is something wrong? are you okay? what happened? the words stumble out of their mouth quickly only because he doesn’t know why she’s here.
she doesn’t answer with her words.
it takes all of thirty seconds before amanda’s shoes have been popped off in the entryway and charlie is carrying her into the bedroom, lips tangled into each other. their paint-covered tank top is thrown across the room, amanda’s skirt is on the ground and all of a sudden their bodies hit charlie’s mattress before the world stops for a split-second. their eyes meet. charlie’s brown pupils and her green ones find each other in a moment between heatwaves. they don’t need to ask if she’s okay - deep down, they know the answer. they know that amanda probably needs their warm body tonight and nothing else. but something about this split second between them changes things. as if their eyes tell each other stories neither understands. their lips move down to amanda’s slowly, softly. charlie knows what his kiss means, what it really means.
i love you so much. i want you. i need you. i miss you.
please come back to me.
they don’t say any of those things, but confusion compounds when she kisses back softly, as if the unspoken dialogue between them is a cracked cypher code. as if maybe she gets it.
that night is different than any other they’ve spent together. for the first time, charlie takes control in a way they never have with her. amanda has always been the one to instigate, to lead, to show charlie exactly how they want to be loved. but this time, the movements between them are soft, gentle, as if neither wants to break the other’s already broken pieces. charlie handles her with care that night. it’s the first time they don’t just fuck each other, the first time they touch each other in a way that cuts deeper than the nails on each other’s backs. this time it is raw, and honest, and more than just good sex.
the next morning, charlie wakes up before she does, feels their long hair falling out of the elastic wrapped around their brunette locks and walks over to the washroom. the small task of redoing their hair breaks them that morning. they feel their eyes well up ever so slightly, throat tightening around the truth sitting in their lungs as they stare at their face in the mirror, blurry without glasses. they know that despite what last night may have seemed like, charlie isn’t an idiot, and neither is amanda. he knows when the universe just makes things work and he knows that is very different from when amanda doesn’t call him for months on end only to show up at his door and immediately press their lips together. he knows that he is nothing more than her safety net - a home when the wind breaks walls.
it doesn’t stop them, though. it never has. they splash their face with water and pretend they weren’t just a mild mess in the bathroom, picking up their glasses from the floor where they had fallen the night before and move back into the bedroom, stopping in the doorframe to look at amanda’s sleeping frame, smiling tragically at the blonde - as if maybe they could stay in this moment forever.
she shifts and wakes up. charlie catches her movement through the lens of his horn rimmed glasses. his vision is clear now, but it’s tainted pink today. she looks over at him and he smiles back before crawling back into bed with her. their lips pressing together again, soft and gentle, a good morning charlie didn’t ask for.
that’s when charlie knows he’s fucked.
