Author's Note: So...I was in the mood to write angst...so here is some angsty!Charlie. I figure this takes place somewhere between Neil's death and Charlie's expulsion. Also...if you want to see it in this way, there's implied Charlie/Todd, otherwise it can be taken as just friendship as well. :)
Disclaimer: I don't know the Dead Poets...just Todd's kidney...
Charlie Dalton sits alone in the cave, nursing a burnt down cigarette and staring at the opposite craggy side from which he sits.
Not Nuwanda. Just Charlie.
Nuwanda died when Neil pulled the trigger.
With a shaky hand, Charlie takes out his pack of cigarettes and removes yet another. He's lost track of how many he's had; he just knows there's five more left in the pack, but, depending on how cold he gets, or whether he decides to resurface from his grief, he knows that soon all of his smokes will be gone.
Right now, he doesn't care if his voice begins to sound like a gravel road, or if the still hot butts of his previous seven cigarettes send the cave alive with flame. Right now, Charlie just wants to take the edge off. And he can't do that when the other poets are around. He has to be strong when they're around. He's their rock. And he's crumbling.
He's not super human, and he's not immune to pain. He can hide his feelings inside of him for as long as he wants, but they're just festering. And he's just Charlie.
Footsteps entering the cave make Charlie's muscles tense as he goes rigid. He's not irritated; he's just preparing himself for the onslaught of his friends' anguish. But it's not the poets. It's just one. It's just Todd.
Charlie gulps and tries to subtly wipe his eyes, but Todd knows him too well and plops cautiously next to him. Without further hesitance, Todd wraps his arms tightly around Charlie, cradling him against his chest as Charlie finally lets it all out. He can't hold back anymore and the tears fall from his eyes, soaking up into Todd's jacket. And Todd just sits there, rubbing his friend's back and saying nothing.
The recently lit cigarette falls to the stone floor of the cave, hissing when it reaches a small patch of snow that's leaked through the opening at the top. Charlie hates being the one that needs comfort, but Todd understands as he rocks them gently back and forth, humming low.
Finally Charlie feels that he's cried enough in front of another guy to embarrass himself for the rest of his life and pulls away slightly, reaching into his pocket once again for another cigarette. But this time Todd plucks the pack from Charlie's fingers and tosses them out of Charlie's reach. "You don't need any more Charlie," Todd whispers, not stuttering at all.
And Charlie, too exhausted both in body and mind to argue, just nods, leaning heavily against Todd. They're just sitting there staring across the cave at the spot Neil last sat, thinking about the past and what had been, and thinking about the future and what can never be.
Charlie sighs loudly, running his hands over his face and into his hair, staring down at the smoldering cigarette on the ground before him. What a waste. Like him. He's never been extraordinary in school, always getting only decent grades like the rest of the slackers, if such a thing exists at Welton. He's only a semi-talented goalie, with a fifty-fifty save percentage. Rowing wasn't exactly his strong point; he pulled through with minimum effort, what with it being a team thing, he could just breeze by. He never could write poetry; that's why he had to plagiarize off of Shakespeare and Byron. The one thing he has been good at is pulling pranks and angering the current administration.
That's not exactly something he's so proud of anymore, though. Not when Neil, who had real acting potential, isn't around to enjoy or chastise him anymore. Neil had purpose. Neil was brilliant. And Charlie's…just Charlie.
Todd leans back against the cold cave wall, observing Charlie with calm eyes. Todd knows Neil didn't want any of them to be hurting. Not that that makes him feel any better. But what really hurts is how much this has affected Charlie. He thought nothing could break Charlie. But this has. He sees through Charlie's façade. The other boys are blind to how easily Charlie snapped, except for maybe Meeks, but Meeks doesn't talk much now anyway, so it hardly matters.
Todd's the true poet of the group, but right now words are betraying him and he can't formulate a sentence of comfort for his friend. He wishes he could, but wishes only go so far and are never really answered. Instead Todd settles for resting his hand on Charlie's shoulder, and Charlie seems content with that.
They listen to the wind screaming outside of the cave, huddling closer for warmth since Charlie never did start a fire like he had originally planned, and now neither of them cares enough to even begin building one. They take solace in the fact that they can comfort the other just by being present. Words don't need to be exchanged between them. They understand.
With Todd, Charlie doesn't need to prove himself as something more than he actually is. He can let down his defenses and his walls and his barriers. Todd can see it all, and Charlie is okay with that. With Todd, Charlie doesn't need to play the role of the cocky, overly confident womanizer that he puts up as a front with everyone else. Todd sees right through him, and Charlie is okay with that. With Todd, Charlie doesn't need to keep everything locked away inside; he can open up and let every sharp and painful feeling flood out. Todd feels right along with him, and Charlie is okay with that as well.
Todd's arms find their way around Charlie in a comforting embrace once again, leaning his head on Charlie's shoulder, both of them taking in deep breaths, not wanting to succumb to tears again. Although, if they did, it would be just fine, because they're there for each other. They're just enough.
And for the first time in a while, Charlie feels alright with being just Charlie.
Author's Note: So there we have it...no real plot or anything...just...kind of there. Leave a review if you feel so inclined :D Thanks!