Lost Boy - Chapter 3: Chapter 3
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Finn is surprisingly punctual the next day. Charlie has been sat at his desk for the past five minutes, waiting for some sign that Finn has arrived.
But at exactly eleven Charlie hears his phone chime.
From: Finn
I'm downstairs loser, come meet me
From: Finn
Sorry for calling you a loser, it was a split second decision and I now realise the error of my ways
From: Finn
Seriously though come down, I look like a weirdo just standing around
Charlie resists the urge to type out a reply, to remind Finn that patience is an appreciated trait. Instead he grabs his jacket off the back of his chair, checks he has everything he needs for what seems like the thousandth time and then begins to make his way out of the door.
Finn is indeed waiting outside, looking casual as he leans against the stair railing.
Charlie rejects the smile his lips try to curve into as soon as he sees Finn, squashes those feelings right down. It's a lot easier if Charlie focuses on all the disadvantages.
Charlie can't like Finn because Finn is Matthew's best friend. He can't like Finn because Finn doesn't like him back. He can't like Finn because he doesn't like boys.
Finn is firmly off limits and Charlie just needs to make sure he reminds himself of that.
"You ready?"
"No I just decided to come down here for the hell of it," Charlie replies, sarcasm lacing his tone.
"I swear you weren't always this mean," Finn says, his tone lazy, "or maybe in my fantasies I just obliterated those memories."
Charlie knows that he shouldn't question it, but he can't stop himself.
"Fantasies?"
"You didn't think it was just you thinking about me naked did you, it's a two way street Martin."
For a moment Charlie thinks Finn knows about what happened last night. And then he remembers the conversation from dinner and everything makes a little more sense. It doesn't stop him from stammering though; words always prove to be obstacles when Charlie spends time with Finn.
"I – well – I don't."
"Whatever you say."
Finn winks. Charlie blushes.
This seems to be how all of their conversations proceed. Finn jokes about them doing something sexual, Charlie tries to pretend he hasn't thought about it too. Finn always smirks or winks or just smiles with that knowing glimmer in his eyes and all Charlie can do is stammer and blush.
Finn must know the effect he has on the other boy.
"Anyway," Finn continues, "it's fine whether you do or you don't, just telling you that I'm totally down for anything."
Somehow Charlie's cheeks get redder and all he can do is stare at his shoes for a few moments before clearing his throat awkwardly, looking up and refusing to meet Finn's gaze. This is not how he wanted today to go.
"So uhm, the tour."
"Of course sweetie," Finn tells Charlie, "one tour, coming right up."
And then Finn turns away, urging Charlie after him with a tug on his sleeve, and the tour is underway.
---
The campus sights aren't actually that interesting Charlie soon finds out. And the tour ends up being less about the fascinating places to visit and becomes more focused on ensuring that Charlie doesn't get lost when he tries to navigate the way to his lessons on his own.
Of course Finn is more than happy to point out places that he thinks are cool. But as seen as though they're mainly bars where he's hooked up with someone before or coffee shops which are great for study Charlie pays little attention to what he's saying when he pauses to show Charlie something.
Charlie stops to look, just not at the supposed sight of interest. He finds that his gaze snags on Finn more time than he might like to admit, and he can't seem to tear his gaze away. He tries to convince himself that there's nothing wrong with that, that acquaintances – friends, maybe, possibly, Charlie doesn't know – look at each other all the time. But it still feels wrong, as if Charlie is crossing all sorts of boundaries and breaking all sorts of rules. Things that he didn't even realise existed until he'd crossed and broken them.
But Charlie can't stop noticing the way that Finn laughs like he genuinely means it, can't help noticing the easy, affectionate smile that never seems to leave his face, can't help noticing the hint of muscle that he can see every time Finn points something out and his shirt lifts slightly.
Charlie really shouldn't notice any of these things, but he does. And once he starts it's impossible to stop. Much like once Charlie's eyes catch sight of Finn's lips and all the memories of the kiss come rushing back, he can't stop thinking about that either. Can't stop thinking that Finn is referencing it every time he says something.
It's getting to the point where Charlie is barely listening to Finn anymore, he's too caught up in his own thoughts. Too busy thinking back to that night, lips pressed together, arms tangled around necks. Fingers in hair.
And Charlie knows that thinking about this isn't helping with the whole getting over what happened thing. But he can't help it, once his thoughts are there there's no returning.
Nights should not plague someone like this one does. Memories should not keep someone awake. Touches should not be so torturously memorable. Kisses should not be comparable to revelations, should not hold so many secrets. Finn should not be the person that Charlie knows he is falling for, fell for three years ago. University should not be this complicated two days in, Charlie should not be thinking about whether Finn likes him back. He shouldn't care, it shouldn't matter.
But somehow it does. And all these things that shouldn't be just are. It doesn't matter how many times Charlie tries to convince himself of the impossibility of it all, he can't ignore the fact that the party still haunts him, that he still wakes up having dreamt about it. He can't ignore the fact that that kiss seems to mean more to him than thousands of other memories, that it's stuck with him more than anything else he thought he'd left behind when he moved here.
"Charlie," Finn's tone is firm, "Charlie."
He drags out the two syllables of Charlie's name until he's almost singing it. His voice winding its way into Charlie's thoughts and dragging him out.
"Earth to Charlie," Finn's hand is placed gently on Charlie's arm, applying a slight pressure, "you know I would find it insulting that you zone out on me but I'm going to pretend it's not because I'm boring and totally because the thought of me topless is better than looking at me with a shirt on."
Charlie stammers. It appears that's his immediate response around Finn. And luckily Finn can't tell the difference between Charlie stammering because of Finn's suggestiveness and stammering because he's been caught out.
"I mean I get it," it seems that somehow Finn is still talking, "can't say I've never been caught thinking about a cute guy before."
"I wasn't thinking about you," Charlie's voice is slightly too high pitched but he decides to pretend that he doesn't notice.
"Can I ask you one question?" Finn's tone is suddenly serious, gaze locking with Charlie's. "And I'm not asking to be vain or nosey or to be a dick. I honestly want to know."
"Go for it."
"Why do you try to squash whatever it is you're feeling? Do you honestly think your dad's right?"
"I don't know what you mean."
"Charlie, please, just answer the question."
"I don't squash any of my feelings," Charlie replies, and he wishes that it wasn't such an obvious lie, "look I know what happened between us that summer might have made you get the wrong impression but I don't swing that way. So sorry if I don't reciprocate your feelings or whatever but I'm just not interested in you as anything more than a friend."
"Good to know," Finn says, "and just so you know, I wasn't asking cause there was any feelings involved. I was asking cause bottling it all up inside it a sure fire way to make yourself hate the world. I mean it was a great kiss, don't get me wrong, but it was only one kiss, it didn't mean that much to me."
Charlie isn't sure why hearing Finn say that hurts so much. Maybe cause he was hoping maybe that night meant as much to Finn as it did to him. Maybe because Charlie wishes he didn't have to lie about his feelings time and time again. Wishes he had the courage to say the truth, let everything spill out and overflow.
"Ready to carry on with the tour?"
It seems Finn is done with the topic. And Charlie supposes it's about time he was too. And things might be simpler if he'd come to that conclusion three years ago, and things might be easier if Charlie knew that he definitely was done with it, wasn't just forcing himself to think that way. But things never do seem to be simple or easy where Charlie is concerned and so he'll just have to make do.
He offers Finn a small nod, a tight smile.
"Sure."
Finn pulls on a new face then, a fresh mask being pulled on to cover the old one. Charlie is reminded that he doesn't know Finn, not really. All he knows about Finn has been learnt from snippets of overhead conversations and from subconsciously watching the other boy. But there's one thing Charlie knows for certain, Finn has a thousand different pieces of himself ready to show to people. Never the whole picture, just an edge or a small handful of the pieces. He swaps personalities like Charlie swaps clothes, he decides what best suits the occasion. And Charlie doesn't want a piece, he doesn't want Finn to pretend to be the person he thinks Charlie wants, he wants Finn, whoever the boy is.
But Finn's offering Charlie a bright smile, one that drives the shadows in his eyes away. And Charlie can see the mask being pulled tighter, gets the impression that Finn is withdrawing from him. Charlie tries not to ask Finn to stop.
"So where to next?" Charlie asks.
He tries to keep his tone calm, to not let Finn know that he's noticed. Charlie has never hated the fact that he's quite observant before. But this feels weirdly personal, like he shouldn't know that Finn swaps smiles.
"I don't know about you but I'm absolutely starving," Finn replies, "there's this place about ten minutes away that does the most amazing pizza I have ever had if you wanna go."
"Sounds great, lead the way."
The pair walk in silence and it's clear that something between them has shifted. Charlie feels a desperate need to fill the gap between them but he's not sure how to, and so he keeps quiet, watches his feet move their way along the ground and tries to keep his eyes off of Finn.
Finn doesn't look at him either.
"So..." it seems that Finn too is searching for something to say, but unlike Charlie he actually knows the words to use, "what are you actually doing here? God that sounded harsh, I meant like what are you studying. I'm pretty sure I've already mentioned how glad I am that you're here."
Charlie lets out a nervous laugh that bubbles up inside of him.
"I think you mentioned it last night, but it's always nice to hear. I'm studying English, literature, y'know, books and stuff."
"I know what literature is Charlie," Finn pauses briefly, "don't know why anyone would want to study the goddamn thing though."
"It's interesting," Charlie's tone is defensive.
"I never said it wasn't. Just said that I don't think it is."
"I'm not sure anything has ever confused me more than that sentence," Charlie replies simply.
"And what you just summed up is my entire reaction to English literature, I just don't get the whole analysis part, I mean the curtains are blue, they don't represent sadness or depression, they're just blue."
"Whatever."
"That sounds like you're admitting defeat," Finn says teasingly.
"I just know that you're never going to admit that you're wrong."
"I never am," a brief pause, "and anyway I never claimed to be right. But you can stick to your books and curtains, and I'll stick to the facts."
"God you can tell you're a scientist," Charlie tells Finn.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing," Charlie replies, a slight smile tugging at his features, "absolutely nothing."
Finn has a retort lined up ready but he doesn't get a chance to use it. They're already at the restaurant and Finn's love of food overrides his love of getting the last word in.
"Fuck," Finn mutters as the pair wait to be seated, "just thinking about the pizza is enough to make me drool. I can practically taste it."
"I suppose we don't need to even bother buying you a pizza then," Charlie replies dryly, "I mean you can already taste it."
"Yeah but imagining the taste doesn't really do a lot to satisfy my hunger."
As if on cue Finn's stomach rumbles, a loud sound that echoes through the small area they're stood in and cuts apart their conversation. The two of them can't make eye contact, as when they do they begin to giggle like they're four years old again.
The receive a funny look from the waiter when he finally arrives to take their order. But a charismatic smile and a slightly flirtatious wink from Finn later and he's offering them one of the best seats in the restaurant, a pretty big table – much bigger than just the two of them need anyway – overlooking a garden area below, big arched windows letting light flood in.
"Perfect," Finn says.
Charlie expects the waiter to leave then, but Finn places a hand lightly on his arm and smiles up at him warmly.
"What do you suggest from the menu?"
Charlie isn't entirely sure why Finn is bothering to ask, he's been going on about some pizza he loves the entire way here. And Charlie supposes that the waiter is cute in that he looks like he belongs in a boy band, hair that flicks to the side and bright blue eyes, but does Finn really think that now is the best time to be flirting with someone?
Not that Charlie cares. At all. Absolutely not.
"I love the meat feast."
"Pity I can't have a slice of you."
Charlie resists the urge to roll his eyes, he can't believe Finn just said that. There's no way that a line as terrible as that it going to work.
Except it does.
He's not sure how it happens but Charlie watches as the waiter scribbles down his number before handing it to Finn and walking away with a not so subtle wink.
Charlie can do nothing but stare open mouthed.
"I can't believe that just worked."
"Not everyone is as hard to get as you."
"I'm not hard to get," Charlie says, his tone strangely defensive.
"Sure you're not," Finn replies, "I mean it's not like you avoided talking to me for a year or anything when I was clearly interested."
Finn makes it sound as if he's just joking but Charlie can't help but take his comments seriously.
"I didn't think you were actually interested."
"Yeah, cause I just tend to go around kissing boys for no reason."
"Back then you did," Charlie points out, "hell it seems like you still do."
Charlie's words are teasing but Finn still seems offended. Charlie decides to attempt to do some damage control.
"I just mean," he says, "that back then there are always used to be rumours flying around about your latest boy. I didn't see any reason for me to think that I was any different."
"It doesn't matter anyway," Finn replies, "cause you don't swing that way right?"
Charlie can't stop his voice from faltering, from showing his indecision, from making the lie clear.
"Right."
There's no denying that both of them know that Charlie's words aren't truthful but Finn doesn't confront him outright.
"Cause you know, if you had been interested, and you hadn't avoided me then you might have realised that I was interested."
Charlie is intrigued and tries desperately not to let he show.
"Really?"
He soon fails.
"You think I'd risk Matt killing me for kissing his brother if I wasn't really interested?"
One boy's cheeks are blushing red. The other's lips are being overtaken by a smirk which soon drops into an affectionate smile.
"Fair point," Charlie manages to stutter out.
"But hey," Finn says, "you weren't interested, fair enough, so I moved on."
"And started hitting on waiters."
"And started hitting on waiters," Finn repeats in agreement, "cute waiters it should be said."
"Debatable," Charlie replies, a teasing smile tugging at his features.
"What are you on about? He was hella cute."
"Just not my type."
"Was it the whole male thing? Cause you know that doesn't bother me right?" Finn says jokingly.
"That might have been a factor," Charlie admits, trying to bite back a smile, "but even if y'know, I liked guys, he wouldn't be my type."
"Who would be then?"
Charlie isn't sure he can answer this question without saying Finn's name.
"I haven't really put that much thought into it," Charlie replies, trying to deflect the question.
"Sure you haven't," Finn doesn't sound like he believes Charlie, "except I can tell that you secretly have."
"I don't know, I guess my type for guys would be pretty similar to the type of girls I like."
"Probably. So go on."
"Tall. Funny. Smart. I don't know," Charlie lets out an awkward laugh, "just a generally awesome person."
"You're totally describing me."
"Modesty is valued too."
"Damn it and here I was thinking I'd got it in the bag."
When Finn smiles Charlie notices the way that small dimples form. His entire expression is easy, a lopsided smile displayed and his eyes glimmering. Charlie bits his lip, tries to stop his smile from taking over his features. Spending time with Finn never fails to put Charlie in a good mood as if his enthusiasm is infectious. Charlie swears he never smiles this much when Finn isn't around (he also swears he never stammers or blushes this much either).
"Sorry to disappoint," Charlie eventually says, "I guess you just don't make the cut."
"I won't give up," Finn tells Charlie, "one day you'll be telling everyone what a cute motherfucker I am."
"Please dear god don't say you're going to sleep with my mother."
"Y'know how you don't think the waiter's cute cause you don't swing that way, same sort of situation with me and your mum."
"Are you saying if you were straight you might think my mum was cute?"
A thoughtful expression crosses Finn's face and he shrugs.
"Probably, I mean your mum is a bit of a MILF."
Charlie offers Finn a glare.
"Finn!"
"What? Is truthfulness not one of those things you like in a person?"
"Not when you're saying that you'd sleep with my mum."
"Well I wouldn't," Finn points out, "I'm just saying I understand why people might want to."
All Charlie can do is stare at Finn open mouthed for a few moments before he recovers.
"I can't believe we're talking about this," Charlie says, "can we please change conversation before I'm put off my food entirely."
"We wouldn't want that now would we, especially not when I brought you here just so you could sample the amazingness that is the pizza here."
"What if I decide to have the pasta?"
"Then you're a fucking idiot but it's not like I can stop you," Finn says, his words harsh but his voice affectionate.
"I think I'll have the pizza anyway, don't wanna risk your wrath."
Charlie can't say he's particularly hungry either way. But the amount Finn has raved on about this pizza he almost feels like he has to at least try it.
"Good child."
"I'm only like two years younger than you."
"Exactly, compared to you I'm practically ancient."
Charlie resists the urge to roll his eyes at Finn's response and instead makes his disdain clear by shaking his head slightly.
"You're an idiot," he tells Finn.
"A loveable one though."
"Debatable."
"You can't deny the truth Charlie Martin."
"I can when it's a complete and utter lie."
Finn lets out a gasp and a pout takes over his features.
"I'm not sure anybody has ever said anything that has hurt me as much as you just did then," Finn says.
"Shit Finn I'm sorry. Please don't be mad at me."
Charlie did not realise that saying that would have such dire repercussions. He'd assumed Finn would realise he was joking without much in the way of complications.
And Charlie has no idea how he can make the situation better, has no idea what to say or what to do. Taking the words back doesn't seem like quite enough and Charlie has no other idea how to help.
"Relax Charlie," at first Finn's tone is teasing but it becomes more serious as he takes in Charlie's panic and he places a gentle hand on Charlie's arm, "seriously Charlie, I was joking, it's fine."
Something must change in Charlie's expression as Finn removes his hand.
"Did you seriously think I was mad?"
"I thought I might have said something wrong."
"Jesus Christ Charlie, do you worry that you're gonna say things wrong a lot?"
Charlie doesn't answer the question directly.
"I don't wanna say anything to make you annoyed," Charlie tells Finn.
Finn sighs, a sharp exhale that seems to summarise all of his feelings, some frustration, a little understanding.
"Please stop doing that," Finn says, "there's nothing you can say that will annoy me, not that much anyway."
"Easier said than done," Charlie mutters.
"I know that, I'm just asking you to try, to stop censoring yourself. I hate to think I'm not getting the real Charlie, hearing what you'd really like to say to me."
Charlie thinks that now would be the perfect time to bring up Finn and his kaleidoscope of personalities but he doesn't have the courage to do so. Again it seems too personal, seems too close to admitting that he spends more time watching Finn than he does thinking about his own future.
"Uh-huh," Charlie nods, not really committing to anything, just promising Finn enough that he'll leave the topic alone.
It's a tactic Charlie has become accustomed to utilising. Whenever he and his Dad argue about Charlie's life choices, he simply nods, goes along with the ideas until he thinks he can get away with not doing so. You have to edge things out until you can run in the opposite direction.
"Seriously Charlie, tell me the truth about something, like what the hell are you thinking about right now?"
This is another thing that Charlie has become an expert at. Lying. Anything to get his dad off his back. Anything to stop Finn from hanging onto this conversation.
"I'm thinking about what my lectures are going to be like."
"Boring," Finn says jokingly, but at least he believes him.
"I never claimed to be an interesting person."
"I know, but I always thought you were, still do, even if your thoughts are about as interesting as French lessons."
"I used to love French lessons."
Finn rolls his eyes.
"Why am I even surprised about that?"
Conversation continues until the food arrives, pausing only briefly when the waiter returns to take their order. Finn offers another wink and the two exchange smiles once again. Charlie holds his tongue, tries not to glare.
And when the food does eventually appear Charlie can do nothing but stare at it open mouthed. The only word that can possibly describe the size of the pizza is colossal, one of them alone takes up nearly the entire table and Charlie isn't entirely sure what balancing act the waiter performs in order to place them both down. And Charlie, who doesn't eat much even when his stomach doesn't feel like it's tying itself in knots, has no idea how he's going to manage this meal.
"Enjoy," he says.
When he departs Charlie looks at Finn in mild panic.
"You didn't mention the size."
"I said they were the best pizzas I'd ever had."
"I thought you meant they tasted great," Charlie replies, "and I thought size wasn't important anyway."
"They do taste great," Finn says, "they just also happen to have the bonus of being massive. And size is important Charlie, at least when it comes to food it is."
"I think it's important for a lot of other things," Charlie murmurs under his breath.
Unfortunately Finn hears him.
"It's not the size that matters Charlie Martin, it's what you do with it."
Charlie chokes on his drink.
"Or what they do with it," Finn continues, "I suppose it rather depends on who's bottoming."
Charlie cannot believe that they are talking about this in a public place, in a restaurant, and that Finn doesn't even look embarrassed. Instead he looks as if they're discussing something as mundane as the weather, casually reclined in his seat munching on a slice of pizza.
"I do not want to talk about this," Charlie stresses every syllable, desperate to get his point across.
"Sorry," Finn says, "I have no concept of personal information; I don't mind talking about these things."
"I'd noticed."
"Sorry," Finn repeats.
"It's fine, just... I'm trying to eat."
"Is the idea of me having sex really that repulsive?"
"No... Just... I... Well, I'd rather not, y'know, talk about it."
"Fine. But y'know if you ever do then I'm more than happy to. Likewise if you ever wanna do it then I'm your man."
"I... Well... I don't think... It's not that... I just."
"Charlie I was joking."
Charlie lets out a sigh of relief. Because it seemed the whole he had dug was just getting deeper.
"Uh, yeah, I know, I was just saying."
"I mean you're cute and all, you've got that whole innocent, blushing look down to a T. But would I bang you, I'm just not sure."
Charlie can't say that he knows how to respond to that.
"Oh... right, okay."
"Again I'm joking," Finn tells Charlie, "I'd bang you anytime, all you have to do is ask."
Charlie can't stop the next few words from coming out of his mouth.
"Do you flirt with everyone?" He asks.
"Not everyone, never girls."
Charlie rolls his eyes.
"You know what I meant."
"Flirting is harmless," Finn points out.
"Not always," Charlie replies, "sometimes it give people the wrong impression."
Finn pauses as if he's going to reply, as if he's going to stick up for himself. Instead he sighs deeply, waits a few moments before saying anything.
"Flirting is harmless," he repeats.
And Charlie has to resist the urge to shout at Finn, to tell him just how flirting isn't harmless. Charlie wants to tell him about the sleepless nights and the constant doubts and never knowing whether taking the leap was worth the fall. He wants to tell Finn that he'll probably go back to his room and overanalyze every single thing that Finn has said, look at every possible double meaning, every single possible hint. That he'll go back and wonder if Finn meant anything he said, if he could possible mean the same.
Charlie keeps quiet. Offers Finn a tight lipped smile, doesn't let the words slip out of his mouth.
And Finn is quite happy to keep on munching on his pizza, completely oblivious to the thoughts whirring through Charlie's head. And Charlie is quite happy to ignore those very thoughts, to pretend that they're not his, that they don't exist.
It's easier said than done.
But Charlie tells himself that he doesn't feel anything for Finn, and lying to himself is surprisingly easy. He tells himself something and he's happy to believe it. It's lying to other that's the difficult part, pretending that his feelings are neutral.
"You're barely eating," Finn says after a few minutes of silence.
It's true. Charlie has made his way through half a slice of pizza so far whereas Finn is nearly halfway to completion.
"I'm just not hungry."
Each piece of pizza feels like a deadweight in Charlie's stomach, he can't even say he's particularly enjoying the taste. And it's nothing against the pizza, Charlie just has days where eating seems like the worst idea on the planet, where he's just not hungry, and today seems to be one them.
"You've barely eaten anyway."
"I'm not hungry," Charlie repeats.
"You okay?"
"Fine."
Charlie's tone is automatically defensive. He's sick of people questioning why he's not eating and everyone questioning him and he's just tired of not being the person that everyone wants him to be. Sometimes Charlie thinks it would be awfully nice to just fall asleep for a few years and wake up when everything is working out well.
It's just a pity that that's not an option.
"Charlie?" Finn actually sounds nervous for once, his tone tentative and gentle.
"Yeah," Charlie lifts his head slowly to meet Finn's gaze.
"You mad at me?"
"No – I'm just –"
"It's fine, you don't have to explain it to me, just as long as you promise me you're okay."
"I'm good."
"Promise?"
Charlie lets out a laugh, tries to dispel the tension that he seems to have caused, that feels like it's smothering him, is smoke in his lungs.
"I promise."
"Pinky promise?"
"Don't be an idiot Finn."
Finn pouts, widens his eyes so that he looks unbelievably adorable, so that Charlie has no choice but to wrap his little finger around Finn's.
"Pinky promise," Charlie mutters.
"I'm going to ignore your refusal and your lack of enthusiasm and pretend that you actually meant that," Finn says, "else I'm not sure our friendship is going to last very long."
"Our friendship?"
"Yeah you're my friend."
"Friend?"
"Bro, buddy, pal, mate, sidekick, companion, ally, comrade, whatever the hell you want to call it."
"I quite like comrade."
"Yeah but comrade with benefits doesn't really have the same ring to it."
"Ah but comrades who copulate does," Charlie replies, a small smile on his face.
"I like it," Finn says, "comrades then. So if you don't mean our pinky promises then the camaraderie isn't going to last long."
"Would that really be such a bad thing?"
"Have you noticed that you don't stutter when you're insulting me?"
"I – I don't stutter."
"Sure you don't," Finn raises his eyebrows, "or maybe it's just around me."
And then Charlie receives the same wink that the waiter did. And he can feel the heat rush to his cheeks once again, can feel them getting redder and redder. He tries not to bury his head in his hands, tries not to hide away, tries to hold Finn's gaze. But embarrassment is flooding through him.
"The blushing too," Finn continues, "you do that a lot. It's kinda sweet."
Sweet is the last thing Charlie wants to be described as, he'd prefer ruggedly handsome or awesome. Not that Charlie wants Finn to think of him that way, totally not because of that, just in general, not at all him in particular.
Not at all.
"Shut up."
"Make me."
Charlie's gaze flickers towards Finn's lips, he tries to ignore the subconscious gesture. Tries to convince himself that it didn't happen.
"I don't think I can," Charlie attempts to keep his tone light, joking, friendly.
"I think there are a few ways," Finn raises an eyebrow. It's a suggestion and a challenge rolled into one.
The two of them both know what they're talking about and Charlie just needs to decide whether to accept the dare. It would be so easy to lean over the table, let his fingers linger on Finn's cheek, let their lips brush. But Charlie can't help but think off the repercussions, of what people would say.
And yes Finn is looking at him with an affectionate smile. And yes Finn is suggesting that Charlie does what he really wants to do. But Finn is offering an unknown amount, and Charlie can't give up everything if Finn's not even being serious.
If it's going to be just another kiss in their story, one which Finn acts as if it never happened and Charlie wishes that it never had.
"You – you're not my type," Charlie says slowly, "remember?"
"Of course, cause you don't swing that way right?"
Charlie takes a deep breath, savours the bitter taste of the lie in his mouth.
"Of course."
Q
But at exactly eleven Charlie hears his phone chime.
From: Finn
I'm downstairs loser, come meet me
From: Finn
Sorry for calling you a loser, it was a split second decision and I now realise the error of my ways
From: Finn
Seriously though come down, I look like a weirdo just standing around
Charlie resists the urge to type out a reply, to remind Finn that patience is an appreciated trait. Instead he grabs his jacket off the back of his chair, checks he has everything he needs for what seems like the thousandth time and then begins to make his way out of the door.
Finn is indeed waiting outside, looking casual as he leans against the stair railing.
Charlie rejects the smile his lips try to curve into as soon as he sees Finn, squashes those feelings right down. It's a lot easier if Charlie focuses on all the disadvantages.
Charlie can't like Finn because Finn is Matthew's best friend. He can't like Finn because Finn doesn't like him back. He can't like Finn because he doesn't like boys.
Finn is firmly off limits and Charlie just needs to make sure he reminds himself of that.
"You ready?"
"No I just decided to come down here for the hell of it," Charlie replies, sarcasm lacing his tone.
"I swear you weren't always this mean," Finn says, his tone lazy, "or maybe in my fantasies I just obliterated those memories."
Charlie knows that he shouldn't question it, but he can't stop himself.
"Fantasies?"
"You didn't think it was just you thinking about me naked did you, it's a two way street Martin."
For a moment Charlie thinks Finn knows about what happened last night. And then he remembers the conversation from dinner and everything makes a little more sense. It doesn't stop him from stammering though; words always prove to be obstacles when Charlie spends time with Finn.
"I – well – I don't."
"Whatever you say."
Finn winks. Charlie blushes.
This seems to be how all of their conversations proceed. Finn jokes about them doing something sexual, Charlie tries to pretend he hasn't thought about it too. Finn always smirks or winks or just smiles with that knowing glimmer in his eyes and all Charlie can do is stammer and blush.
Finn must know the effect he has on the other boy.
"Anyway," Finn continues, "it's fine whether you do or you don't, just telling you that I'm totally down for anything."
Somehow Charlie's cheeks get redder and all he can do is stare at his shoes for a few moments before clearing his throat awkwardly, looking up and refusing to meet Finn's gaze. This is not how he wanted today to go.
"So uhm, the tour."
"Of course sweetie," Finn tells Charlie, "one tour, coming right up."
And then Finn turns away, urging Charlie after him with a tug on his sleeve, and the tour is underway.
---
The campus sights aren't actually that interesting Charlie soon finds out. And the tour ends up being less about the fascinating places to visit and becomes more focused on ensuring that Charlie doesn't get lost when he tries to navigate the way to his lessons on his own.
Of course Finn is more than happy to point out places that he thinks are cool. But as seen as though they're mainly bars where he's hooked up with someone before or coffee shops which are great for study Charlie pays little attention to what he's saying when he pauses to show Charlie something.
Charlie stops to look, just not at the supposed sight of interest. He finds that his gaze snags on Finn more time than he might like to admit, and he can't seem to tear his gaze away. He tries to convince himself that there's nothing wrong with that, that acquaintances – friends, maybe, possibly, Charlie doesn't know – look at each other all the time. But it still feels wrong, as if Charlie is crossing all sorts of boundaries and breaking all sorts of rules. Things that he didn't even realise existed until he'd crossed and broken them.
But Charlie can't stop noticing the way that Finn laughs like he genuinely means it, can't help noticing the easy, affectionate smile that never seems to leave his face, can't help noticing the hint of muscle that he can see every time Finn points something out and his shirt lifts slightly.
Charlie really shouldn't notice any of these things, but he does. And once he starts it's impossible to stop. Much like once Charlie's eyes catch sight of Finn's lips and all the memories of the kiss come rushing back, he can't stop thinking about that either. Can't stop thinking that Finn is referencing it every time he says something.
It's getting to the point where Charlie is barely listening to Finn anymore, he's too caught up in his own thoughts. Too busy thinking back to that night, lips pressed together, arms tangled around necks. Fingers in hair.
And Charlie knows that thinking about this isn't helping with the whole getting over what happened thing. But he can't help it, once his thoughts are there there's no returning.
Nights should not plague someone like this one does. Memories should not keep someone awake. Touches should not be so torturously memorable. Kisses should not be comparable to revelations, should not hold so many secrets. Finn should not be the person that Charlie knows he is falling for, fell for three years ago. University should not be this complicated two days in, Charlie should not be thinking about whether Finn likes him back. He shouldn't care, it shouldn't matter.
But somehow it does. And all these things that shouldn't be just are. It doesn't matter how many times Charlie tries to convince himself of the impossibility of it all, he can't ignore the fact that the party still haunts him, that he still wakes up having dreamt about it. He can't ignore the fact that that kiss seems to mean more to him than thousands of other memories, that it's stuck with him more than anything else he thought he'd left behind when he moved here.
"Charlie," Finn's tone is firm, "Charlie."
He drags out the two syllables of Charlie's name until he's almost singing it. His voice winding its way into Charlie's thoughts and dragging him out.
"Earth to Charlie," Finn's hand is placed gently on Charlie's arm, applying a slight pressure, "you know I would find it insulting that you zone out on me but I'm going to pretend it's not because I'm boring and totally because the thought of me topless is better than looking at me with a shirt on."
Charlie stammers. It appears that's his immediate response around Finn. And luckily Finn can't tell the difference between Charlie stammering because of Finn's suggestiveness and stammering because he's been caught out.
"I mean I get it," it seems that somehow Finn is still talking, "can't say I've never been caught thinking about a cute guy before."
"I wasn't thinking about you," Charlie's voice is slightly too high pitched but he decides to pretend that he doesn't notice.
"Can I ask you one question?" Finn's tone is suddenly serious, gaze locking with Charlie's. "And I'm not asking to be vain or nosey or to be a dick. I honestly want to know."
"Go for it."
"Why do you try to squash whatever it is you're feeling? Do you honestly think your dad's right?"
"I don't know what you mean."
"Charlie, please, just answer the question."
"I don't squash any of my feelings," Charlie replies, and he wishes that it wasn't such an obvious lie, "look I know what happened between us that summer might have made you get the wrong impression but I don't swing that way. So sorry if I don't reciprocate your feelings or whatever but I'm just not interested in you as anything more than a friend."
"Good to know," Finn says, "and just so you know, I wasn't asking cause there was any feelings involved. I was asking cause bottling it all up inside it a sure fire way to make yourself hate the world. I mean it was a great kiss, don't get me wrong, but it was only one kiss, it didn't mean that much to me."
Charlie isn't sure why hearing Finn say that hurts so much. Maybe cause he was hoping maybe that night meant as much to Finn as it did to him. Maybe because Charlie wishes he didn't have to lie about his feelings time and time again. Wishes he had the courage to say the truth, let everything spill out and overflow.
"Ready to carry on with the tour?"
It seems Finn is done with the topic. And Charlie supposes it's about time he was too. And things might be simpler if he'd come to that conclusion three years ago, and things might be easier if Charlie knew that he definitely was done with it, wasn't just forcing himself to think that way. But things never do seem to be simple or easy where Charlie is concerned and so he'll just have to make do.
He offers Finn a small nod, a tight smile.
"Sure."
Finn pulls on a new face then, a fresh mask being pulled on to cover the old one. Charlie is reminded that he doesn't know Finn, not really. All he knows about Finn has been learnt from snippets of overhead conversations and from subconsciously watching the other boy. But there's one thing Charlie knows for certain, Finn has a thousand different pieces of himself ready to show to people. Never the whole picture, just an edge or a small handful of the pieces. He swaps personalities like Charlie swaps clothes, he decides what best suits the occasion. And Charlie doesn't want a piece, he doesn't want Finn to pretend to be the person he thinks Charlie wants, he wants Finn, whoever the boy is.
But Finn's offering Charlie a bright smile, one that drives the shadows in his eyes away. And Charlie can see the mask being pulled tighter, gets the impression that Finn is withdrawing from him. Charlie tries not to ask Finn to stop.
"So where to next?" Charlie asks.
He tries to keep his tone calm, to not let Finn know that he's noticed. Charlie has never hated the fact that he's quite observant before. But this feels weirdly personal, like he shouldn't know that Finn swaps smiles.
"I don't know about you but I'm absolutely starving," Finn replies, "there's this place about ten minutes away that does the most amazing pizza I have ever had if you wanna go."
"Sounds great, lead the way."
The pair walk in silence and it's clear that something between them has shifted. Charlie feels a desperate need to fill the gap between them but he's not sure how to, and so he keeps quiet, watches his feet move their way along the ground and tries to keep his eyes off of Finn.
Finn doesn't look at him either.
"So..." it seems that Finn too is searching for something to say, but unlike Charlie he actually knows the words to use, "what are you actually doing here? God that sounded harsh, I meant like what are you studying. I'm pretty sure I've already mentioned how glad I am that you're here."
Charlie lets out a nervous laugh that bubbles up inside of him.
"I think you mentioned it last night, but it's always nice to hear. I'm studying English, literature, y'know, books and stuff."
"I know what literature is Charlie," Finn pauses briefly, "don't know why anyone would want to study the goddamn thing though."
"It's interesting," Charlie's tone is defensive.
"I never said it wasn't. Just said that I don't think it is."
"I'm not sure anything has ever confused me more than that sentence," Charlie replies simply.
"And what you just summed up is my entire reaction to English literature, I just don't get the whole analysis part, I mean the curtains are blue, they don't represent sadness or depression, they're just blue."
"Whatever."
"That sounds like you're admitting defeat," Finn says teasingly.
"I just know that you're never going to admit that you're wrong."
"I never am," a brief pause, "and anyway I never claimed to be right. But you can stick to your books and curtains, and I'll stick to the facts."
"God you can tell you're a scientist," Charlie tells Finn.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing," Charlie replies, a slight smile tugging at his features, "absolutely nothing."
Finn has a retort lined up ready but he doesn't get a chance to use it. They're already at the restaurant and Finn's love of food overrides his love of getting the last word in.
"Fuck," Finn mutters as the pair wait to be seated, "just thinking about the pizza is enough to make me drool. I can practically taste it."
"I suppose we don't need to even bother buying you a pizza then," Charlie replies dryly, "I mean you can already taste it."
"Yeah but imagining the taste doesn't really do a lot to satisfy my hunger."
As if on cue Finn's stomach rumbles, a loud sound that echoes through the small area they're stood in and cuts apart their conversation. The two of them can't make eye contact, as when they do they begin to giggle like they're four years old again.
The receive a funny look from the waiter when he finally arrives to take their order. But a charismatic smile and a slightly flirtatious wink from Finn later and he's offering them one of the best seats in the restaurant, a pretty big table – much bigger than just the two of them need anyway – overlooking a garden area below, big arched windows letting light flood in.
"Perfect," Finn says.
Charlie expects the waiter to leave then, but Finn places a hand lightly on his arm and smiles up at him warmly.
"What do you suggest from the menu?"
Charlie isn't entirely sure why Finn is bothering to ask, he's been going on about some pizza he loves the entire way here. And Charlie supposes that the waiter is cute in that he looks like he belongs in a boy band, hair that flicks to the side and bright blue eyes, but does Finn really think that now is the best time to be flirting with someone?
Not that Charlie cares. At all. Absolutely not.
"I love the meat feast."
"Pity I can't have a slice of you."
Charlie resists the urge to roll his eyes, he can't believe Finn just said that. There's no way that a line as terrible as that it going to work.
Except it does.
He's not sure how it happens but Charlie watches as the waiter scribbles down his number before handing it to Finn and walking away with a not so subtle wink.
Charlie can do nothing but stare open mouthed.
"I can't believe that just worked."
"Not everyone is as hard to get as you."
"I'm not hard to get," Charlie says, his tone strangely defensive.
"Sure you're not," Finn replies, "I mean it's not like you avoided talking to me for a year or anything when I was clearly interested."
Finn makes it sound as if he's just joking but Charlie can't help but take his comments seriously.
"I didn't think you were actually interested."
"Yeah, cause I just tend to go around kissing boys for no reason."
"Back then you did," Charlie points out, "hell it seems like you still do."
Charlie's words are teasing but Finn still seems offended. Charlie decides to attempt to do some damage control.
"I just mean," he says, "that back then there are always used to be rumours flying around about your latest boy. I didn't see any reason for me to think that I was any different."
"It doesn't matter anyway," Finn replies, "cause you don't swing that way right?"
Charlie can't stop his voice from faltering, from showing his indecision, from making the lie clear.
"Right."
There's no denying that both of them know that Charlie's words aren't truthful but Finn doesn't confront him outright.
"Cause you know, if you had been interested, and you hadn't avoided me then you might have realised that I was interested."
Charlie is intrigued and tries desperately not to let he show.
"Really?"
He soon fails.
"You think I'd risk Matt killing me for kissing his brother if I wasn't really interested?"
One boy's cheeks are blushing red. The other's lips are being overtaken by a smirk which soon drops into an affectionate smile.
"Fair point," Charlie manages to stutter out.
"But hey," Finn says, "you weren't interested, fair enough, so I moved on."
"And started hitting on waiters."
"And started hitting on waiters," Finn repeats in agreement, "cute waiters it should be said."
"Debatable," Charlie replies, a teasing smile tugging at his features.
"What are you on about? He was hella cute."
"Just not my type."
"Was it the whole male thing? Cause you know that doesn't bother me right?" Finn says jokingly.
"That might have been a factor," Charlie admits, trying to bite back a smile, "but even if y'know, I liked guys, he wouldn't be my type."
"Who would be then?"
Charlie isn't sure he can answer this question without saying Finn's name.
"I haven't really put that much thought into it," Charlie replies, trying to deflect the question.
"Sure you haven't," Finn doesn't sound like he believes Charlie, "except I can tell that you secretly have."
"I don't know, I guess my type for guys would be pretty similar to the type of girls I like."
"Probably. So go on."
"Tall. Funny. Smart. I don't know," Charlie lets out an awkward laugh, "just a generally awesome person."
"You're totally describing me."
"Modesty is valued too."
"Damn it and here I was thinking I'd got it in the bag."
When Finn smiles Charlie notices the way that small dimples form. His entire expression is easy, a lopsided smile displayed and his eyes glimmering. Charlie bits his lip, tries to stop his smile from taking over his features. Spending time with Finn never fails to put Charlie in a good mood as if his enthusiasm is infectious. Charlie swears he never smiles this much when Finn isn't around (he also swears he never stammers or blushes this much either).
"Sorry to disappoint," Charlie eventually says, "I guess you just don't make the cut."
"I won't give up," Finn tells Charlie, "one day you'll be telling everyone what a cute motherfucker I am."
"Please dear god don't say you're going to sleep with my mother."
"Y'know how you don't think the waiter's cute cause you don't swing that way, same sort of situation with me and your mum."
"Are you saying if you were straight you might think my mum was cute?"
A thoughtful expression crosses Finn's face and he shrugs.
"Probably, I mean your mum is a bit of a MILF."
Charlie offers Finn a glare.
"Finn!"
"What? Is truthfulness not one of those things you like in a person?"
"Not when you're saying that you'd sleep with my mum."
"Well I wouldn't," Finn points out, "I'm just saying I understand why people might want to."
All Charlie can do is stare at Finn open mouthed for a few moments before he recovers.
"I can't believe we're talking about this," Charlie says, "can we please change conversation before I'm put off my food entirely."
"We wouldn't want that now would we, especially not when I brought you here just so you could sample the amazingness that is the pizza here."
"What if I decide to have the pasta?"
"Then you're a fucking idiot but it's not like I can stop you," Finn says, his words harsh but his voice affectionate.
"I think I'll have the pizza anyway, don't wanna risk your wrath."
Charlie can't say he's particularly hungry either way. But the amount Finn has raved on about this pizza he almost feels like he has to at least try it.
"Good child."
"I'm only like two years younger than you."
"Exactly, compared to you I'm practically ancient."
Charlie resists the urge to roll his eyes at Finn's response and instead makes his disdain clear by shaking his head slightly.
"You're an idiot," he tells Finn.
"A loveable one though."
"Debatable."
"You can't deny the truth Charlie Martin."
"I can when it's a complete and utter lie."
Finn lets out a gasp and a pout takes over his features.
"I'm not sure anybody has ever said anything that has hurt me as much as you just did then," Finn says.
"Shit Finn I'm sorry. Please don't be mad at me."
Charlie did not realise that saying that would have such dire repercussions. He'd assumed Finn would realise he was joking without much in the way of complications.
And Charlie has no idea how he can make the situation better, has no idea what to say or what to do. Taking the words back doesn't seem like quite enough and Charlie has no other idea how to help.
"Relax Charlie," at first Finn's tone is teasing but it becomes more serious as he takes in Charlie's panic and he places a gentle hand on Charlie's arm, "seriously Charlie, I was joking, it's fine."
Something must change in Charlie's expression as Finn removes his hand.
"Did you seriously think I was mad?"
"I thought I might have said something wrong."
"Jesus Christ Charlie, do you worry that you're gonna say things wrong a lot?"
Charlie doesn't answer the question directly.
"I don't wanna say anything to make you annoyed," Charlie tells Finn.
Finn sighs, a sharp exhale that seems to summarise all of his feelings, some frustration, a little understanding.
"Please stop doing that," Finn says, "there's nothing you can say that will annoy me, not that much anyway."
"Easier said than done," Charlie mutters.
"I know that, I'm just asking you to try, to stop censoring yourself. I hate to think I'm not getting the real Charlie, hearing what you'd really like to say to me."
Charlie thinks that now would be the perfect time to bring up Finn and his kaleidoscope of personalities but he doesn't have the courage to do so. Again it seems too personal, seems too close to admitting that he spends more time watching Finn than he does thinking about his own future.
"Uh-huh," Charlie nods, not really committing to anything, just promising Finn enough that he'll leave the topic alone.
It's a tactic Charlie has become accustomed to utilising. Whenever he and his Dad argue about Charlie's life choices, he simply nods, goes along with the ideas until he thinks he can get away with not doing so. You have to edge things out until you can run in the opposite direction.
"Seriously Charlie, tell me the truth about something, like what the hell are you thinking about right now?"
This is another thing that Charlie has become an expert at. Lying. Anything to get his dad off his back. Anything to stop Finn from hanging onto this conversation.
"I'm thinking about what my lectures are going to be like."
"Boring," Finn says jokingly, but at least he believes him.
"I never claimed to be an interesting person."
"I know, but I always thought you were, still do, even if your thoughts are about as interesting as French lessons."
"I used to love French lessons."
Finn rolls his eyes.
"Why am I even surprised about that?"
Conversation continues until the food arrives, pausing only briefly when the waiter returns to take their order. Finn offers another wink and the two exchange smiles once again. Charlie holds his tongue, tries not to glare.
And when the food does eventually appear Charlie can do nothing but stare at it open mouthed. The only word that can possibly describe the size of the pizza is colossal, one of them alone takes up nearly the entire table and Charlie isn't entirely sure what balancing act the waiter performs in order to place them both down. And Charlie, who doesn't eat much even when his stomach doesn't feel like it's tying itself in knots, has no idea how he's going to manage this meal.
"Enjoy," he says.
When he departs Charlie looks at Finn in mild panic.
"You didn't mention the size."
"I said they were the best pizzas I'd ever had."
"I thought you meant they tasted great," Charlie replies, "and I thought size wasn't important anyway."
"They do taste great," Finn says, "they just also happen to have the bonus of being massive. And size is important Charlie, at least when it comes to food it is."
"I think it's important for a lot of other things," Charlie murmurs under his breath.
Unfortunately Finn hears him.
"It's not the size that matters Charlie Martin, it's what you do with it."
Charlie chokes on his drink.
"Or what they do with it," Finn continues, "I suppose it rather depends on who's bottoming."
Charlie cannot believe that they are talking about this in a public place, in a restaurant, and that Finn doesn't even look embarrassed. Instead he looks as if they're discussing something as mundane as the weather, casually reclined in his seat munching on a slice of pizza.
"I do not want to talk about this," Charlie stresses every syllable, desperate to get his point across.
"Sorry," Finn says, "I have no concept of personal information; I don't mind talking about these things."
"I'd noticed."
"Sorry," Finn repeats.
"It's fine, just... I'm trying to eat."
"Is the idea of me having sex really that repulsive?"
"No... Just... I... Well, I'd rather not, y'know, talk about it."
"Fine. But y'know if you ever do then I'm more than happy to. Likewise if you ever wanna do it then I'm your man."
"I... Well... I don't think... It's not that... I just."
"Charlie I was joking."
Charlie lets out a sigh of relief. Because it seemed the whole he had dug was just getting deeper.
"Uh, yeah, I know, I was just saying."
"I mean you're cute and all, you've got that whole innocent, blushing look down to a T. But would I bang you, I'm just not sure."
Charlie can't say that he knows how to respond to that.
"Oh... right, okay."
"Again I'm joking," Finn tells Charlie, "I'd bang you anytime, all you have to do is ask."
Charlie can't stop the next few words from coming out of his mouth.
"Do you flirt with everyone?" He asks.
"Not everyone, never girls."
Charlie rolls his eyes.
"You know what I meant."
"Flirting is harmless," Finn points out.
"Not always," Charlie replies, "sometimes it give people the wrong impression."
Finn pauses as if he's going to reply, as if he's going to stick up for himself. Instead he sighs deeply, waits a few moments before saying anything.
"Flirting is harmless," he repeats.
And Charlie has to resist the urge to shout at Finn, to tell him just how flirting isn't harmless. Charlie wants to tell him about the sleepless nights and the constant doubts and never knowing whether taking the leap was worth the fall. He wants to tell Finn that he'll probably go back to his room and overanalyze every single thing that Finn has said, look at every possible double meaning, every single possible hint. That he'll go back and wonder if Finn meant anything he said, if he could possible mean the same.
Charlie keeps quiet. Offers Finn a tight lipped smile, doesn't let the words slip out of his mouth.
And Finn is quite happy to keep on munching on his pizza, completely oblivious to the thoughts whirring through Charlie's head. And Charlie is quite happy to ignore those very thoughts, to pretend that they're not his, that they don't exist.
It's easier said than done.
But Charlie tells himself that he doesn't feel anything for Finn, and lying to himself is surprisingly easy. He tells himself something and he's happy to believe it. It's lying to other that's the difficult part, pretending that his feelings are neutral.
"You're barely eating," Finn says after a few minutes of silence.
It's true. Charlie has made his way through half a slice of pizza so far whereas Finn is nearly halfway to completion.
"I'm just not hungry."
Each piece of pizza feels like a deadweight in Charlie's stomach, he can't even say he's particularly enjoying the taste. And it's nothing against the pizza, Charlie just has days where eating seems like the worst idea on the planet, where he's just not hungry, and today seems to be one them.
"You've barely eaten anyway."
"I'm not hungry," Charlie repeats.
"You okay?"
"Fine."
Charlie's tone is automatically defensive. He's sick of people questioning why he's not eating and everyone questioning him and he's just tired of not being the person that everyone wants him to be. Sometimes Charlie thinks it would be awfully nice to just fall asleep for a few years and wake up when everything is working out well.
It's just a pity that that's not an option.
"Charlie?" Finn actually sounds nervous for once, his tone tentative and gentle.
"Yeah," Charlie lifts his head slowly to meet Finn's gaze.
"You mad at me?"
"No – I'm just –"
"It's fine, you don't have to explain it to me, just as long as you promise me you're okay."
"I'm good."
"Promise?"
Charlie lets out a laugh, tries to dispel the tension that he seems to have caused, that feels like it's smothering him, is smoke in his lungs.
"I promise."
"Pinky promise?"
"Don't be an idiot Finn."
Finn pouts, widens his eyes so that he looks unbelievably adorable, so that Charlie has no choice but to wrap his little finger around Finn's.
"Pinky promise," Charlie mutters.
"I'm going to ignore your refusal and your lack of enthusiasm and pretend that you actually meant that," Finn says, "else I'm not sure our friendship is going to last very long."
"Our friendship?"
"Yeah you're my friend."
"Friend?"
"Bro, buddy, pal, mate, sidekick, companion, ally, comrade, whatever the hell you want to call it."
"I quite like comrade."
"Yeah but comrade with benefits doesn't really have the same ring to it."
"Ah but comrades who copulate does," Charlie replies, a small smile on his face.
"I like it," Finn says, "comrades then. So if you don't mean our pinky promises then the camaraderie isn't going to last long."
"Would that really be such a bad thing?"
"Have you noticed that you don't stutter when you're insulting me?"
"I – I don't stutter."
"Sure you don't," Finn raises his eyebrows, "or maybe it's just around me."
And then Charlie receives the same wink that the waiter did. And he can feel the heat rush to his cheeks once again, can feel them getting redder and redder. He tries not to bury his head in his hands, tries not to hide away, tries to hold Finn's gaze. But embarrassment is flooding through him.
"The blushing too," Finn continues, "you do that a lot. It's kinda sweet."
Sweet is the last thing Charlie wants to be described as, he'd prefer ruggedly handsome or awesome. Not that Charlie wants Finn to think of him that way, totally not because of that, just in general, not at all him in particular.
Not at all.
"Shut up."
"Make me."
Charlie's gaze flickers towards Finn's lips, he tries to ignore the subconscious gesture. Tries to convince himself that it didn't happen.
"I don't think I can," Charlie attempts to keep his tone light, joking, friendly.
"I think there are a few ways," Finn raises an eyebrow. It's a suggestion and a challenge rolled into one.
The two of them both know what they're talking about and Charlie just needs to decide whether to accept the dare. It would be so easy to lean over the table, let his fingers linger on Finn's cheek, let their lips brush. But Charlie can't help but think off the repercussions, of what people would say.
And yes Finn is looking at him with an affectionate smile. And yes Finn is suggesting that Charlie does what he really wants to do. But Finn is offering an unknown amount, and Charlie can't give up everything if Finn's not even being serious.
If it's going to be just another kiss in their story, one which Finn acts as if it never happened and Charlie wishes that it never had.
"You – you're not my type," Charlie says slowly, "remember?"
"Of course, cause you don't swing that way right?"
Charlie takes a deep breath, savours the bitter taste of the lie in his mouth.
"Of course."
Q
End of Lost Boy Chapter 3. Continue reading Chapter 4 or return to Lost Boy book page.