Title: Closer Than Most
Summary: Ten words, ten tiny snippets between Charlie and Patrick.
Warning: Slight mention of self harm.
Note: I decided to watch and reread The Perks of Being A Wallflower, and these prompt fills happened. Patrick is one of my favourite book characters of all time.
Closer Than Most
Lively
He was like the air on a cold and crisp December morning, startling and utterly awakening. His entire being seemed to tremble with limitless energy; his smile got him higher than any drug ever could. Patrick was a conductor of light, and Charlie really hoped that he knew that.
Cold
They stood close together in the bitter December wind. Patrick tightened his jacket and stood closer still, drinking in the warmth that emanated from Charlie's slight frame. They shared a secret smile, basking quietly in each other, thinking of central heating and hot cocoa.
Remorseful
Patrick didn't really get what was going on with Charlie. Most of the time when Patrick was drunk enough, he didn't give a damn. He just savored the taste of another boy, one that would fight to the death for him, someone so unaware of his own brilliance. And afterwards, he numbed his remorse with more wine and the hazy memory of Charlie's hands cupping his tear drenched face.
Heavy
His presence was heavy and suffocating, like a duvet on a summer's evening. Charlie could smell alcohol and aftershave and coconut shampoo. It made his head spin. When Patrick kissed him, an occurrence which seemed to be becoming regular, he let himself drown in him completely.
Forward
The air was humid and close that night. Charlie stumbled as Patrick grabbed his hands and danced with him in the pouring summer rain and they were happy. Patrick said again that he felt free, and Charlie could see it in his eyes, his smile, and the twirling circles he made as he spun around and around, the raindrops kissing his skin. He was free. They both were.
Cut
There were precisely seven scars on the inside of his left wrist. The other was smooth, like a blank canvas. Charlie couldn't stop staring. When Patrick told him to stop looking, Charlie had asked why. They were a part of him. They showed his strength. He didn't understand why Patrick started to cry.
Compromise
Patrick promised that he wouldn't let memories of Brad break him again. Charlie wrote him back and swore he would get better. Miles apart, they put those letters underneath their pillows, each hoping that the other would find the strength to uphold their promise.
Voice
The silence was nice, but Charlie already missed the sound of his voice. He sighed; wrapping his jacket around Patrick's shoulders as he slept on the ground. Throwing caution to the wind, he sat beside him and linked their fingers together. His hand was clammy, comforting. But it was no use, he still missed the sound of his voice.
Awkward
It was a stupid joke. Alice tripped up a drunken Patrick, who stumbled and took Charlie to the ground with him. They landed unceremoniously in a laughing heap on the carpet. Their eyes locked for a brief moment, and Patrick wondered if this would be even half as awkward if they were alone.
Unnoticed
He was beautiful. Beautiful in a way that demanded to be noticed and pointed out, but nobody ever seemed to do that. But it wasn't just physical, his aura was radiant and infectious, and Charlie smiled as they danced together, tipping wine and laughing with their friends. He'd let Patrick know someday how happy and free he made him feel, just by being so utterly wonderful.
