Lost Boy - Chapter 5: Chapter 5

For a brief moment Charlie is pretty sure that he's a time traveller.
The music coming through the speakers is much the same, a mix of heavy drum beats and unintelligible singing. The dark corners are still there, gazes are still lingering, and Finn's stood by Charlie's side, a few drinks past tipsy.
Charlie himself is holding a bottle, but he's barely drunk from it. He's more busy trying to ensure that Finn doesn't kill himself falling down the stairs – which has nearly happened already, three times – and is too busy trying to make sure that he remembers every moment of this night. Because despite Finn's perhaps overly intoxicated state the pair of them are having a good time.
They've spent most of the night dancing, or what they count as dancing anyway. Rhythmic jumps and flailing limbs set to music. But they're happy to do it, and so they carry on, even when their movements are met with Eliza's raised eyebrow and a roll of her eyes.
"You having a good time?" Finn asks.
It's a question that he keeps on asking, as if he's worried that the party is all suddenly going to become too much, as if Charlie's feelings aren't evident in the wide smile on his face that he can't seem to hide however much he tries. In fact it's a question that Finn has been asking repeatedly for the past few days, ever since Charlie admitted that he was ashamed of his own feelings. Finn hasn't tried to be sympathetic or tried to 'help', instead he constantly tries to make sure that Charlie is having a good time, as if he'll leave if Charlie says it's getting too much. Charlie doesn't know exactly what the repercussions are; he's had no need to say he's been having a bad time just yet.
"Yep," Charlie replies simply.
Finn reaches out, as if he's going to take Charlie's hand in his, but then seems to think better of it. He's started to realise that Charlie has some boundaries he's afraid to cross, has started to realise that letting Charlie make the first move when he's ready is better than forcing them to move faster than necessary. Charlie isn't sure whether he still meant what he said, whether he really does like him, all he knows is that he's glad Finn is still sticking around.
"I really don't think you've had enough to drink," Finn says.
It's so much like three years ago that Charlie has to stop and remind himself that time has moved forward, that this is a different party, and a different Charlie and Finn.
"I think I have, somebody's gotta make sure you stay alive."
"And that person should not be you, it's your first year at university, you should be getting drunk without thinking about it."
"I just think-."
"No," Finn tells Charlie, "don't think. If you don't stop from this point on I'm gonna stop calling you Charlie and start calling you Mr Overthinker."
"Well that's just not very nice."
"Well you're just not very nice."
"Great comeback there Finn," Charlie says teasingly.
Charlie is definitely starting to stammer less when he's around Finn. It's as if with every moment spent together Finn draws more words out of him, replaces it with a little bit of his confidence. And so Charlie stumbles over his words nowhere near as often, there are still brief moments, when doubt overcomes him, when he'll retreat inside himself mid-conversation and stammer out an excuse to leave that neither one of them believes.
But Finn is patient, and slowly the two of them are moving forward. Baby steps in a direction that Charlie is unsure of, but he's not focusing on the destination (is much too terrified to focus on the destination) and so instead he savours the words they exchange. Allows himself to savour the kiss in the brief moments he allows himself to revisit it, like someone on a diet taunting themselves with the thought of the most delectable chocolates imaginable. Charlie is aware he could make a move and maybe everything would shift, but he too often thinks of the repercussions and so he settles for a friendship, and allows himself to fantasise about what being more than friends might really be like.
"You okay?"
Charlie sighs, can't believe Finn is asking again.
"I'm fine," Charlie assures him, "same as I was when you asked like five minutes ago."
"Just making sure."
"I'm not a two year old child Finn, I don't need you to constantly be trying to take care of me," Charlie's words might be harsh but his tone is teasing.
He winds his fingers through Finn's and tugs the other boy ever so slightly closer. They're still leaning against the wall, but now their shoulders are pressed against one another, arms brushing. For a moment Charlie swears he can feel their pulses line up, not just so that they're synchronised but so that it's as if there's one heart between their two bodies, Charlie soon ushers that thought away though, blames it on the alcohol, on a skewed perception of the world rather than any actual feeling.
"You know," Finn says, his voice so slow it could be considered a drawl, "I remember the last time you and I hung out at a party."
Charlie shakes his head, but he can't help but smile.
"You mean the party when I followed you around the house like a lost puppy?"
"A very cute lost puppy," Finn corrects, "A very cute lost boy who was a hella good kisser."
"Was a hella good kisser?"
"Well it's been so long I've forgotten. Maybe you could remind me?"
"Damn you're smooth when you're drunk," Charlie tells Finn, an affectionate smile tugging on his lips.
"I'm smooth all the time."
"Smooth as chunky peanut butter."
"Now who's not being very nice?"
"Sometimes the truth hurts Finn, but that doesn't stop it being the truth."
Finn's brow furrows and for a few moments he stays quiet, as if he's trying to find the right words to say. Charlie interjects before Finn so much as opens his mouth.
"Now who's overthinking things?"
"I swear you were a supporter of doing that a few minutes ago."
"I'm a supporter of it, but only when the time is right."
"And who says the right time isn't now?"
"I do."
"And of course you're always right," Finn's head dips slightly and Charlie can't tear his gaze away from Finn's lips.
"Of course I am."
Both of them are just a little bit breathless, and they haven't even done anything. Charlie knows that it's to do with the recklessness of it all. Charlie imagines that this must be what addiction feels like, pushing the boundaries just to feel the rush. Perhaps everything would be a lot simpler if he was refusing to allow himself to be even so much as friends with Finn. At the moment he's placing the drug on his lips and refusing to let himself swallow.
It's almost painful. And yet Charlie gladly subjects himself to it.
"So," Charlie says, "is this what you usually do at parties when you're not having to deal with annoying fifteen year olds?"
"What? Lean against walls with guys who have clearly friend zoned me?" Finn replies.
"No, I – I don't know what I meant."
"Usually – when I'm not having to deal with fifteen year old boys following me about, which I have to say doesn't happen very often – I talk to the cutest boy in the room."
Charlie's gaze drops to the floor.
"Go on then," he mutters.
"Go on then where?"
"Go talk to the cutest boy in the room."
"God Charlie you really are an idiot."
Finn doesn't elaborate and yet Charlie's cheeks still heat.
"I'm not the cutest boy in the room," he stammers.
"I never said you were," Finn says, his tone light, "stop being so vain Charlie. I'm not talking to the cutest boy in the room cause I'd look kind of crazy talking to myself."
"Oh."
"I'm joking you nerd," Finn lightly bumps his hip against Charlie's, "of course you're the cutest boy in the room. Who else would it be?"
"I – I don't know. Just someone else."
"It's weird."
"What is?"
"How much three years can change things, we're still at a party and yet everything is different."
Charlie can't help but agree, because sure Charlie's still looking at Finn as if he's not sure if Finn has created the world or is about to destroy it, and Finn still has that easy grin on his face. But they're in a different place, miles from where they started and this time when a nervous smile is offered, it's Charlie that receives it. It's almost as if this party is a reflection of the one before, but that it's somehow become distorted. Like Charlie and Finn have entered a house of mirrors, the kind that reflects a different them back. The similarities are undeniable, but there's still something inherently different.
Charlie looks down at where the pair's fingers are intertwined, thinks about what his father would say if he knew.
"So you talk to the cutest boy at the party," Charlie recaps after a few brief moments of silence, "then what next?"
"Well it depends on how it's going. Whether everything's going well or if I'm making a fool of myself."
"Let's say, hypothetically, that everything is going well."
"Well?" Finn repeats. "Then I'd probably suggest we dance, or if we've just been doing that offer to buy him a drink. And if it's going really well I'd suggest we go somewhere else."
"Somewhere else?"
"Just somewhere quieter, outside or upstairs or wherever's easiest to get to."
"And what do you do when you get to somewhere else?"
"What's with all the questions?"
"I asked first."
Finn sighs. But he doesn't argue with Charlie's logic.
"We'd probably talk," Finn says, his voice suddenly soft, dropping so that Charlie can barely hear him, "and I'd probably flirt a lot like the terrible person that I am, might even admit that I thought he was the cutest person at the party."
"And?"
"If things were going really well at this point, like impossibly well, I'd kiss him. Maybe do a little bit more."
"Oh. Do you always do 'a little bit more'?"
Charlie isn't sure why he asks, isn't sure that he wants to know the answer.
"Most of the time," Finn says, "I'm going to be totally honest right now, I usually do a little bit more and that's it, I never tend to go out of my way to see the guy again."
"How come?"
"Seriously Charlie can we stop with all the questions?"
"Sorry," Charlie mumbles, "I'm just, I don't know... curious."
Finn has to stop himself from muttering that it's the wrong the kind of curious. The kind that involves far too many questions and nowhere near enough kisses.
"I'm not really big on the whole commitment thing," Finn says after a while, "it's not like I'm a player or anything remotely close, I mean I like to flirt but that's it. It's more that I'm not ready to settle down, I'm twenty, got my whole life ahead of me and all that. I'm sure if I met the right guy I might think differently, but right now I don't see anything wrong with messing around with guys who want to mess around, y'know."
Charlie can't say that he does know precisely, having never been in a situation remotely close to Finn's, but he guesses that he can kind of see the logic behind what Finn is saying and so nods slowly.
"Basically you're saying you don't wanna waste time on guys that you're not going to end up with long, long, term?"
"That sounds harsh but yeah, I guess."
"But how do you know if you're gonna end up being long term if you don't allow yourself to try it?"
"I don't I suppose, I guess I'm just relying on the idea that as soon as I see the guy I'll know."
"And what if you don't?" Charlie presses.
"Then I'm gonna die alone surrounded by hundreds of cats."
"Aren't you allergic to cats?"
"You're right, even they don't want to be with me," Finn says jokingly, "but come on, we don't need to talk about my future as a crazy cat person - minus the cats – you wanna dance some more?"
"Nah, I think my feet are already wanting to kill me, I don't wanna give them anymore ammunition."
Finn laughs, dimples forming and the corners of his eyes creasing slightly. When he smiles Charlie can see the happiness, like it's its own colour, one that shines bright in Finn's eyes.
Taking a deep breath, Finn directs the smile in Charlie's direction.
"You wanna go outside?"
Finn doesn't mean for his voice to sound quite as suggestive as it does. And yes, he's testing the waters, knows that Charlie will remember exactly why he likes to take boys outside, but he's nervous. And he does actually want to take a break from the party, doesn't want Charlie to feel like Finn is ushering him into anything.
"Sure," Charlie is just a little bit breathless, as if Finn's smile has sucked all of the oxygen away.
Finn isn't sure he's ever felt this nervous before, is sure that his heart is racing so quickly that it must be about to leap out of his chest. He tells himself to steady his breaths, that there's no reason Charlie should be any different from any other boy before. But he is, and it's undeniable.
So Finn rakes a hand over his head, still unused to his own lack of hair, and offers Charlie a tentative smile. He considers reaching out a hand, but decides it against in the end, worried it will seem too patronising, too much like he's expecting something from Charlie.
In all honesty Finn just wants to feel Charlie's hand in his, wants to reassure the other boy that everything – whatever everything may be – is going to be okay.
"So..." Charlie says, "the boys you usually take outside mid-party."
"We're back on this are we?"
"I just have a few more questions."
Finn rolls his eyes, rubs the back of his neck again, ducking his head slightly.
"Do they know that they're not going to last any longer the party?" Charlie asks. "Or do they think they have a chance at the whole long term thing?"
"I mean I don't exactly announce it to them, that'd just be weird, but I mean they must know by now, it's not like it's some big secret that I'm trying to keep people from. I'm not trying to lead people on and mess them around, I'm just not ready for anything long term."
"Fair enough."
"Why?" Finn asks. "It kind of seems like it's bothering you."
"I guess I just don't understand why people would do this with you if they knew it was only for a night?"
"It's fun Charlie," Finn replies, he tries not to sound exasperated, "it's kind of like I'm horny, they're horny so why the hell not, it's not like they necessarily want anything more than a night."
"I guess I just don't see how it could be so simple."
Charlie's voice has dropped so that it's quiet now and the smile slips from Finn's face as realisation dawns.
"It could be this simple," Finn catches himself before he says something stupid, "I mean I know why it's not but one day it might be."
Charlie considers taking back what he's just said, pretending that he doesn't want any of that but it's pointless and he knows it.
"One day," Charlie mutters.
"I promise."
"I hope you're right."
"I'm sure I am, I mean when am I not?" Finn bumps his hip against Charlie's, allows the easy smile to settle on his face once again.
"Like ninety percent of the time," Charlie retorts.
"Now that's just cruel."
"I'm sure you'll survive, I mean it's not like you can say that I'm wrong."
Charlie can't remember the last time that he smiled this wide, or the last time he laughed this much. It's not like Charlie's never been happy over the past few years, it's more that it's been a muted kind of enjoyment, the kind where he's worried that it could be ruined or disappear at any moment. This is different, this is better, it's the kind of happiness that is euphoric and feels like it could exist forever. It's the kind of happiness that Charlie loves getting caught up in.
"I totally could claim that, what with it being true and all."
"So you admit that you are wrong ninety percent of the time?"
"No," Finn splutter, "I just – I."
Charlie would be lying if he didn't admit that there was something quite nice about Finn stammering instead of him. As if a role reversal has taken place, as if the next thing Charlie knows he's going to be going to parties and kissing random guys, is going to be flirting with strangers in restaurants without a second thought.
Maybe one day is all Charlie can think.
"I meant that you being wrong was true," Finn eventually manages to say.
"I knew you'd get there eventually," Charlie teases, "you just needed a bit of time to catch up with the conversation."
"Go away," Finn pouts, and looks adorable in the process, "you knew what I meant."
"Clearly I didn't."
"I hate you."
"And yet you invited me to 'go for a walk' midway through a party none the less."
"I have no idea what you're trying to insinuate."
"I'm not trying to insinuate anything."
"You act like such an innocent little thing," Finn says, only half joking, "I bet you're secretly very very kinky."
"N – no."
"I guess I'll just have to wait and find out."
"I guess you will. Wait. No. What?"
Finn just offers Charlie a lazy wink and hopes he hasn't pushed things too far this time. That he hasn't ruined all progress he made with baby steps by taking one giant leap.
"I just mean," Finn tries to pick his words carefully, "that if the opportunity arises to find out how kinky you really are then I am totally down."
Charlie ducks his head and both boys pretend that Charlie's cheeks don't flame. Charlie refuses to let their gazes meet but when Finn moves his hand so their fingers brush – not quite linking together – Charlie doesn't pull away. It's strange how Finn's touch can be so comforting and terrifying all at once.
"So," Charlie says eventually, "we're on a walk, what next?"
Finn sighs.
"Have you ever heard of just enjoying the moment? We're taking a walk on a nice night, you're in great company. What more could you want?"
"I could be inside reading a book with no one around to bother me," Charlie replies, only half joking.
"You didn't have to come to the party if you didn't want to," Finn sounds strangely hurt.
"I wanted to."
"I just, I'm worried you're not enjoying yourself."
"I am," Charlie attempts to assure him, "I'm having a great time. I enjoyed the dancing, and even though you got tipsy you were still pretty good company."
"Pretty good company?"
"Great company."
"Can I ask you a question?"
Finn takes a deep breath, most of the effects of the alcohol have faded but Finn can only blame what he is about to do on an alcoholic side effect. Maybe there's still a lit bit left pumping through his brains, convincing him that this is a good idea.
"Sure," Charlie sounds nervous. Finn resists the urge to reassure him.
"You know when we kissed."
Finn can see the 'which time' dancing on Charlie's lips before he even says it.
"The most recent time," he quickly explains, "did you feel anything, like did you enjoy it at all?"
He waits for an answer, knows what he wants to hear. Because yes, Finn doesn't do long term, and yes, Charlie in the end is just another boy. But Finn at least wants to know if Charlie felt anything close to what he did, because kissing Charlie was undeniably different, strangely enlightening. And Finn is marginally terrified by just how much he wants to do it again.
"I – well I," Charlie stammers.
"It's okay if you didn't y'know feel anything, or didn't enjoy it, I was just wondering."
Charlie is releasing shaky breaths and Finn just wants to tell him everything is going to be okay, wants to take back all the words and apologise for pushing everything too far. Deep down Finn feels like he knows what Charlie's honest answer is, and so he's not sure why he's pushing Charlie to say it, especially when it's clear that Charlie doesn't want to.
Perhaps it's because Finn still has a niggle of doubt until Charlie says it.
"I – I," Charlie tries again, but his voice breaks.
The words are in his throat and they're ready to spill out but they just won't come. Charlie feels as if his Dad has a hand clamped over his mouth. It should be easy for Charlie to admit that he enjoyed it, that he wouldn't mind trying it again sometime, but instead all he can do is open and close his mouth repeatedly, looking at Finn with an apologetic expression in his eyes.
"Look Charlie," Finn is desperate to repair the damage to their friendship he has so clearly caused, "forget I asked, it's not that important."
It is though, and they both know it. But Charlie has never been more terrified, because there's no denying that he felt something when the pair of them kissed, and there's no denying that a more confident, less petrified Charlie would kiss Finn again in a heartbeat, but Charlie isn't sure he's ready to offer Finn everything, to give up everything for him, not when Finn is the kind of boy who's not ready for commitment, who doesn't do long term.
If someone is going to cause Charlie's world to fall apart, he at least wants them to stay to help repair it. There's no guarantee that Finn will do that.
But Charlie can't stand the silence, can't stand leaving the question unanswered. And yes, maybe he's powered slightly by the couple of bottles of beer he's drunk tonight, and maybe he's not drunk but he's definitely a little tipsy. To the point where doing nothing seems like a terrible idea and he can only see one solution.
"Hey Finn?"
"Yeah?"
Charlie has Finn's attention now, and their gazes lock, Charlie hovers slightly, still caught up in a slight moment of indecision but slowly he leans forward, Finn's breath warm against his cheek.
It's a slow ordeal, the nervousness between them almost tangible. But slowly, Charlie inches forwards until there's barely an inch between them.
"I don't want pity kisses," Finn murmurs, before Charlie can lean any closer, "I know what's it like to kiss someone cause it's what you think you're supposed to do. Not that you're supposed to kiss me, but, I don't know."
"Shut up Finn."
"But – I."
"I said shut up."
The kiss is lazy and luxurious, their movements slow. Charlie's hands slide up to Finn's shoulders, lightly gripping onto the fabric of his t-shirt, refusing to let him go. Finn cups Charlie's cheeks, fingers slightly skimming his skin as if he's trying to commit every curve of Charlie's face to memory.
The whole thing is a brief affair before they're both pulling away and hands are dropping back to their sides. At first their gazes refuse to meet and then Finn lets out a soft laugh. Looking up Charlie can see that a wide smile has spread over the other boys face.
"So it wasn't a pity kiss then?" Finn eventually asks.
Charlie can't tell if it's hope or surprise he detects in Finn's tone.
"No."
"I'm glad."
"Me too."
"Does that mean you'd kiss me again then?" Finn asks, daringly.
"Probably."
"Probably?"
"Don't want to promise anything that I might go back on."
"Fair enough," Finn sighs, "but just know that it you ever want to kiss me again then I'm totally down. Anytime, anywhere. You can call me at four in the morning and I'd still come round to kiss you."
"Seriously?" Charlie asks, his voice full of disbelief.
"You're a pretty damn good kisser."
"Good enough for you to get up at four in the morning?"
"Apparently so," Finn replies, he laces his fingers through Charlie's and squeezes slightly, "god I must seem hella whipped."
"Hella whipped?"
Finn nods almost absentmindedly, tilts his body so he's leaning against Charlie's.
"Do you ever think about just saying fuck it?" Finn asks. "Just going for what you want, following your heart, all that motivational speaker shit."
"I – well – I can't."
"Forget it," Finn says, "I mean I get why you can't, but do you ever think about it. Almost sort of let yourself pretend."
"I -."
"Sorry I'm being an idiot, don't listen to me."
The two of them fall into silence, caught somewhere between comfortable and awkward. Charlie knows his next words could make or break the conversation.
"I do think about it sometimes," Charlie admits, his voice quiet, "I try not to, but sometimes I do."
"And," Finn prompts, "shit, sorry, you don't have to tell me."
"I don't know I guess it might be nice."
"Might be?"
"Well I never really think about it for very long, something always happens that reminds me it's wrong, that I'm not allowed to do that. And so I stop thinking about it."
"Do you seriously think it's wrong?"
"I don't know," Charlie says, and his voice is so honest that Finn is sure he can feel his heart break.
"Really?"
"I mean there's gotta be a reason my dad is so opposed to it," Charlie says, "I mean I'm not saying that there's anything wrong with being gay, you're fine, just maybe some people it's okay and some people it's not."
"And you think you're one of the people who it's not fine for? What kind of screwed up logic is that?"
"I don't know," Charlie tells Finn, frustration clear in his tone, "all I know is my dad is convinced that liking guys is wrong, will kill me if he ever knows I like a guy."
"You deserve to be happy though Charlie," Finn says.
"What if I don't though? I've done some really shitty things Finn, and what if this is my punishment?"
"Whatever you've 'done' it can't be bad enough to torture yourself over like you seem to be doing."
"Trust me Finn, it was shitty."
"What did you do?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
Finn's brow furrows slightly but he doesn't push the issue any further. Instead he unlaces their fingers and offers Charlie a friendly smile.
"We should probably head back to the party."
"I suppose so."
"I mean if you want to stay out here and make out for a bit longer I'm not going to complain," Finn is only half joking when he says that.
"Maybe another time."
Charlie tries to keep his voice light but the words fall flat, the moment, whatever it was, has disappeared. Instead Charlie has a guilt laden weight in his stomach, his thoughts are dragging him back to a crying boy and trying not to let the truth show. All Charlie wants to do is spit the self-hatred out, to make everything okay again. He's already tried that once though, and evidently it did nothing to help.
"You okay?"
This time when Finn asks the question, Charlie doesn't find it quite so easy to reply.
"Fine."
He's been telling people that for years, avoiding every worried conversation with that single word. And so why is saying it to Finn any different?
It's because Finn knows the truth.
"You know it's okay if you're not," Finn says, catching Charlie's arm so he can't walk away.
"I know that," Charlie says, "but I am, I am fine."
Maybe if Charlie says the words enough they'll come true.
"Promise."
"Why wouldn't I be?"
Charlie wonders if maybe that's the reason he and Finn get along so well. Finn spends so long being different people to please everyone else, hides behind several masks so no one ever gets to see the real him. And Charlie is constantly adding a new layer, paining on a new Charlie as soon as the cracks begin to show in the old one. They're both pretending to be other people in the hope that it'll make everyone else happy, both hiding their emotions behind their new persona in the hope that no one will ever ask questions. Both saying they're fine when they're clearly not.
Maybe broken things are attracted to each other, as if they can patch themselves together. Form new things from the shattered pieces.
"Are you sure?"
Charlie sighs, as if the questions annoy him, as if the fact that Finn cares doesn't make his heart swell, make him feel a little bit more okay.
"I'm sure."
Finn's hand trails down Charlie's arm and captures his hand once again, tugging him ever so slightly closer so that their chests are pressed against one another. Heartbeats loud through their skin, Charlie can feel Finn's chest rise and fall as he breathes, can feel the way that their heart rates are synchronising, adopting the same rhythm. Every spot where their bodies are pressed together Charlie swears he's getting electric shocks, that he can feel a current passing through him.
Their lips press together for the shortest of moments, it's soft, sweet, fleeting. Finn pulls away quickly.
"Sorry," he mutters, head bowing slightly, "I just needed one more, whilst I got the chance."