Disclaimer: note my standing disclaimer as well as "wine colored grass" is a song title from Evan Dando (a small thing but still…)
Author's Notes: another shout-out to all my fellow Adam angst/slash lovers out there! Whew, I say this has been a humbling experience but I'm quite proud of myself for not being like a lot of people out there and just pout that you don't get any reviews. Come on, I'm writing this because (as weird as it is!) I love seeing my favorite ducky get tortured (and comforted of course by Charlie) not to see if I can pull in a popularity contest. Sorry if that sounded rant-y and/or basically useless; just been bothering me b/c I read a bunch of fics today where it's all "if you don't review then I won't write anymore!" If no one's reviewing that usually means no one's reading so if you don't write anymore then no one will really care. Come on now, I know you all are smart, just use them brains that are in there somewhere!
Anyway, here's the story~
~*Radio Song*~
~*Chapter Two*~
Charlie's POV
I got off the bus onto the dirty sidewalk and glumly kicked an empty soda can out of my way. I wished maybe Adam had come with me; but I wasn't sure if he was ready to see where I came from. Sure he had an idea but it's one thing to hear about it and another to actually go. Besides, I didn't want him to go all pity-mode on me.
I stopped by the drugstore and picked up a new stick of deodorant as well as a
package of licorice for Adam. He likes
to drink soda through it like a straw, which is kind of gross because the
licorice ends up dissolving but it's fun to see him get excited about something
as small as candy so I don't mind spending an extra dollar on it.
"Home sweet home," I muttered. I smoothed down the front of my shirt for luck. I stepped onto the sagging porch, wishing this weekend were already over with. How did Adam ever convince me to come back here? With a sigh, I pushed the door open.
"Mom? I'm home," I called. The house seemed pretty empty but who knows; last time my mom had been passed out on the living room floor. That incident running through my head, I checked through the entire house. Mom wasn't home. I frowned. Where could she be? It was still kind of early; maybe she was still working.
I tried calling the diner. The person that answered just told me my mom left. Finally, the front door opened but it wasn't my mom that walked through. It was the latest installment of her boyfriends. This one was of the scowling, dark types with a twelve o' clock shadow pretty much all over his face. He wears that same jean jacket that holds a musty combination of alcohol and sweat.
"Where's my mom," I said suspiciously. He looked at me and his look of disgust deepened.
"What you doing here?" David demanded. He was headed for the refrigerator and just as how I expected, he took out a can of beer.
"I live here," I said.
"Yeah? Well so do I now and when I'm here, I make the rules." Charlie narrowed his eyes. What was his problem? He barely said two words and here was this David character biting off his head. Usually I'm a pretty easy-going guy so I would let this go but for some reason it just really pissed me off today.
"You know what? I don't think you do. I've lived here longer and god knows I've known my mom longer so I think you're full of shit. You know what else I think? I think you don't deserve my mom at all. And I want to know where the hell my mom is."
David just kept drinking and glaring at me with his small, bloodshot eyes.
"You think you're all tough don't you, what? You gonna find a girl to beat up then leave like your dad did? You're just like your dad."
"Fuck you, you don't know my dad and you sure as hell don't know my mom."
"Listen kid, I told you, when I live here my word goes and I
want you to get the hell out of my house."
"Not until you fucking tell me where my mom is!"
"Charlie?" We both jumped as the front door opened and Charlie's mom stepped into the kitchen, looking at me, her child, confused.
"What are you doing home," she finally said. I tried so hard not to cry. I shouldn't be so emotional.
"I'm glad to see you too," I finally said. My voice cracked, dammit, and now they have a clear entryway to how vulnerable I am.
"Its just…honey you should tell me beforehand when you're coming home. Don't you…don't you have homework left to do?" she said, looking frantically from me to David.
Suddenly, it started to click. She wanted to…shit I don't even want to think about it. The point was she wasn't quite ready to give up this romantic weekend with David and it sure as hell wouldn't be very romantic with her kid tagging along. It hurt a lot that she was even thinking about sending me back. The whole "it's us against the world" attitude we had when I was younger had just been shot to hell. Now it was "let's see how fast we can get rid of the kid." No, it was "let's see how fast I can replace my kid." My mom suddenly didn't need me and she didn't want me around. She had David and that's all she needed.
"Sorry Mom," I finally said, when I found my voice. "I'm sorry that I thought that you might have been happy to see me. I'm sorry that you're stuck with me all weekend. You know what? Just forget it, I hate you Mom."
My mom just looked a little startled but David looked pissed.
"Don't you dare talk to your mother that way," he hissed.
"No, don't you tell me how I can talk to my own mom!" I screamed. I turned my look back at my mom who was now starting to cry openly. "All these years Mom, I thought we had each other and that was enough for you. Then suddenly you have more boyfriends over than a prostitute. God, I kept trying to convince myself that you didn't hate me as much as you hate Dad but obviously I was wrong. You think we're the same don't you? You see him when you look at me don't you? Don't you!"
"Charlie, don't you want me to be happy?"
"Like hell you're happy and you'll never BE happy until you admit to yourself that Dad left us. You have to stop lying to yourself."
"That's enough," David said, in the most commanding voice he could, seeing as how he was so damn drunk. Mom looked over at him so gratefully like she was so happy to have a real man that was able to handle a situation like this so well.
"You're just like your old man," he slurred. Well so much for handling the situation. "You should do your mom a favor and just get out of her life." I started to walk away when I snapped. I turned around and punched David hard in the jaw. He staggered back a few steps and my mom screamed. Before I knew it, David had punched me in the stomach.
"You think you're smart pulling something like that? I can kill you!" He punched me several more times in the stomach and I staggered to the ground, spitting out blood.
"Fuck all of you," I said. It hurt to breathe. Somehow I got my duffel bag over my shoulder and staggered out the door. I waited out there on the porch for a few minutes but neither my mom nor David came out. Not that I was expecting them to or anything.
I didn't know where I was going. Even though I've lived here all my life, nausea was filling me and covering me like a damp carpet. I could feel cold sweat forming on my upper lip. Somewhere in all the mess of things, between the screaming that was echoing in my mind to the phantom hands of David punching me in the stomach, I could see Adam. He'd be worried if I just stayed out here like this. A bus stop. I'll find a bus stop and take the next one back up to Eden Hall. I don't want to worry Adam.
I kept walking, stumbling, then finally falling to my knees. They banged on the pavement and I fell over onto grass and concrete. I grabbed my stomach and I started to gag. Turning over, I threw up all over the grass. Over and over again until my stomach was empty and my mind was heavy and dizzy with dehydration. I started to throw up blood and I coughed and rolled over, trying to get as far away from the mess I had made as possible.
"Are you happy Mom?" I said. The wind picked up my words. "That I'm fucking throwing up like a drug addict on the streets like Dad? Proud of me, aren't you?" I rolled over and finally the world started to turn black. The last thing I saw was Adam, his eyebrows creased in concern. I tried to tell him I was okay but he disappeared and so did I.
~*~
Adam's POV
I tried to tuck the blankets more closely around me but it was still freezing. I hadn't slept all night and hadn't once taken my eyes off of Portman's sleeping form. There were bloodstains all over the blankets and some on the carpet. The washcloth had been discarded by the foot of the bed.
I thought when the sun rose and the day grew lighter, what happened would fade away into nothing but a nightmare and I would realize that that could never happen. That nothing happened last night and it was all just a really bad dream. But as the day lightened, I could only see stark reality all around me and everything in my room was just a reminder of what had happened. The sky outside was bleak and gray.
Portman had barely moved all night but finally he started to stir.
"Holy shit, my head hurts so fucking bad," he finally croaked. I stayed silent, too terrified to say anything.
"What the hell am I doing here?" he said, looking around. "Banks?" Was it possible that he had no idea what had happened? I swallowed; my mouth was paper dry.
"You…you had a fight with Fulton or something," I finally said. "You wanted to spend the night here because Charlie's gone home for the weekend." Portman frowned but nodded.
"Oh, sorry, I guess I drank too much." I rummaged around for a water bottle.
"Water?" I offered. He took it gratefully and drank down the whole thing. His eyes rested on the bloody cloth on the ground.
"What the hell…"
"You got a bloody nose." My voice was shaking so hard I was surprised Portman hadn't said anything.
"A bloody nose?" He felt his nose and shifted it back and forth. "Actually it is kind of sore. Must have gotten into a fight that I don't remember or something." I nodded lamely. Portman got out of bed and pulled on a couple of things lying around. I couldn't look at him as he put on some sweats over his boxers and a sweatshirt.
"Kind of cold in here isn't it?" Portman said as he closed the open window. I felt sick. I could hear my heart inside my chest and my breathing became harder. I felt like walls were closing in around me. I wanted Portman out away from me.
"Hey, thanks for letting me crash here," he said. He reached out to pat me on the shoulder but I shrunk away. Underneath the covers I gripped the knife tighter. Portman just liked mildly puzzled but started for the door.
"Alright, see you around Banks." He was out the door. I started to shake and I could barely reach the garbage can in time as I threw up.
"I'm sorry." I leaned against the wall, too tired to stand on my own. "I'm sorry I'm so weak. I'm sorry this had to happen." I turned around and slammed my fists into the wall, making the bulletin board fall to the floor. The skin on my fists broke and bled.
I sank to the ground and my gaze landed on the fallen bulletin board. It was overflowing with notes and papers thumbtacked on the corkboard in haste. They were mainly notes passed back and forth between us and a handful of notes that Charlie had received from other people in our classes. There were also schedules and post-its reminding us of plans or practices.
I picked up a particular note that was to Charlie, signed Adam.
Hey Charlie, it started. You look like you're actually listening to the lecture. Listen, I know we have practice late today at 5:00 but we should get to the rink faster like 3:00 and just goof around for awhile. We haven't had much fun on the ice lately.
That was true. Near the end of hockey season, everyone was pretty much sick of each other and there were constant squabbles on the ice. But never between Charlie and me.
Anyway, I'll talk to you at lunch. ~AdamI stared at the letter. The person who wrote that wasn't me. I tried to remember who that was, who I was. I could only think of the boy with blonde hair, parted meticulously to the side. Blue eyes. I could only think of the stranger I saw when I looked in the mirror.
~*~
Portman's POV
I laid in bed with the sickest hangover ever. The only thing that made me feel even worse than that was what happened. I tried to pretend like I was sleeping as I ran over what happened in my mind. What the hell made me do that? Why Adam?
I tried not to think of Adam behind me on the other bed. I tried not to think of Adam looking scared and confused as he tried to escape. I couldn't stand this silence any longer. I discreetly checked my watch. It read 9:21. I rolled over and faked a yawn.
"Holy shit, my head hurts so fucking bad," I said. "What the hell am I doing here?" I looked over at Adam who was awake. It sickened me to see him lying there with a glazed look over his eyes.
"Banks?" He seemed to come back to life, if you could call it that. His eyes focused but they still kept that careful blank look, careful to not reveal anything. I tried to look oblivious. I listened to Adam claim that I had a fight with Fulton. Well of course I did. I remember everything. But I just watched Adam with a half interested look, trying to look as though I was hearing everything for the first time.
I asked him about that washcloth soaked with my blood. I deserved it. The ground should be soaked in my blood for what I did. He looked so small and scared there. I could tell, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. I wanted to protect him so bad but fuck; I was the one who hurt him.
I could tell he wanted me out. Good, I wanted to go too. I didn't want to be around him anymore. He made me feel too guilty, too bad. He made me want to love him and protect him and kill myself all at the same time. Fuck, what the hell was wrong with me? I remembered what I said to Fulton. It would be just like this shit life to do this to me; turn me gay the minute I scream to my best friend that I'm a homophobe. Fucking hell I hate this.
"Hey, thanks for letting me crash here," I said. I reached out to, I don't know, pat him on the shoulder or ruffle his hair or something. He moved away from me. Adam was so scared. I was shocked for a second but then again, why should I have been? I should have known he'd be terrified of me, some rapist. Finally, I said something else and walked out the door.
I waited on the other side for a couple of minutes. I heard Adam throw up and I wanted to run back in and help the guy out but I was cemented there, listening to everything he did.
"I'm sorry," I heard him say. Then I ran.
~*~
Charlie's POVIt took me a several minutes to figure out where I was. The sky was gray and yellow and it made me sick. I sat up, groggily to find the grass around me tinted with red. Wine colored grass. It was covered in blood; my blood. I dug around my bag until I came up with a bottle of water that I drank down. I felt so numb. For a minute I thought I had died but I knew that afterlife couldn't possibly be this shitty, unless I went to hell for being such a bastard. I fell back into the grass.
It was still early; people wouldn't come across this street until at least a couple more hours. That gave me enough time to get myself together and walk to a bus stop.
"Hell wouldn't be half as bad as this," I said to myself as I got to my feet. The world twisted around me then finally righted itself. "Then again, you wouldn't be in hell, would you Banks?" I kept walking and kept talking to my best friend.
"You'd probably be in heaven, the highest order of angels plucking those damn harps. You're so perfect Banks. But at least I've got you here. I don't want to lose you to those angels. You keep my demons away."
Early risers and joggers looked at me in worry as they passed me. Passing by a puddle I caught my reflection. My shirt was stained with blood, my face was gaunt, and I was talking to no one. I wanted to stop them, the joggers and other passerby; I wanted to shake them ask them if I scared them that much. They all gave me a wide berth. Adam wouldn't do that.
I waited at the bus stop for a couple of hours until the buses finally started to run and got on the first one. I stopped when I entered the bus and turned around. I put two fingers to my lips and flung them out to the dismal world.
"Bye Mom. You got David's hand, long may it wave." I stumbled onto the empty seats where I collapsed and fainted.
~*~
Portman's POVI don't know why I did it. I wish I knew but I had no idea. I had drunk too much. Dammit, I was drunk. It was barely an excuse; hell it wasn't even an excuse. But I don't know what possessed me. I just knew that I wanted Adam.
He eludes me. Girls are easy. They giggle, they wear revealing clothes, and you compliment them, on their hair maybe. They make sense. You flatter them and they want you back. Adam's different. It was because I couldn't have him that I want him.
I didn't even know about my sudden swinging the other way until last night. He didn't know but I was watching him before…well before I became a moron. He was lying there in the moonlight and it had turned his hair silvery. He was looking up at the ceiling, dreaming about who knows what.
And then…I don't even want to think about it. It's making me feel sick. Fuck this. I drink some more, to forget and try to rewind and erase what happened.
~*~
Letter to Casey from CharlieDear Mom,
You tell me to take responsibilities for my actions. You tell me that I have to be mature because I'm now the man of the house ever since dad left. But I don't see how you didn't realize that I'm still a kid. And being the kid that I am I'm going to blame you for this.
I was fine with the way we were. I loved you and you loved me, or so I thought. Then you can't stop wanting to feel loved. Obviously I wasn't enough for you, was I? I don't even know if I'll send this to you. If I did, if I ever got mad enough to want you to read this, then you'd probably be reading this in the messy kitchen with blood still on the floor. David would be standing behind you, rubbing your shoulders, telling you that you don't need me.
Well, Mom, you might not need me. You and David might not need me in your new life. You guys might not need this bit of leftover scraps from your old life. You guys don't want any extra baggage pulling you back. You want to start over without memories from your old life. You might not need me but I need you. When Dad left you were everything, I thought at least we had each other. But I was wrong.
If that's the way you want it to be then so be it. I don't need you anymore either. I used to love you, maybe I still do, but I'm through trying to give you something you won't return. Sometimes I thought money was the problem. I thought maybe if I worked really hard I could earn money with hockey. So maybe I will. I'll become rich and famous and maybe then you'd want to call me your son.
I'd pass by home, Mom. I'd see you and David standing on the porch, waving and ready to take me back. And I'd turn to my friends; I'd turn to Adam. I'd tell him, "See that house? I lived there alone for seventeen years." It's because of you I'm hurting; mother dearest, I hate you.
Your selfish and immature son, Charlie
~*~
Adam's POVI can't feel anything. I just want to die. I rest my head on my knees, digging my fingernails into my skin. I can't bring myself to hate Portman. He doesn't even remember. I'm almost angry. I wish he'd remember. Then I could scream and yell at him. Ask him what the hell he was thinking. Now it's just all in my head. I don't care anymore.
The whole day I lie in bed, clutching my wounded arms, wishing the room would stop spinning. I feel weak. I was always weak; I've always tried to hide it. Boys are supposed to be strong. They're supposed to be able to take care of themselves.
Have I really changed that much? Am I that different from the person I was yesterday at this time? I don't bother changing the bloody sheets. I didn't know I could hit hard enough to make Portman bleed that much. Instead, I just bunch them up and toss them in a corner. The spots on the floor are still visible.
I try to hide them but I feel like they're boring holes into my brains. They scream at me, reminding me what happened. I crawl away into a corner of the room. They tug at my arms and pull my head back to force me to see the events that occurred that night. I hide deeper in myself and I'm floating there, in the blackness, lost to the world, until something pulls me back to the surface.
Someone's knocking on the door. The sound reaches me slowly and it takes a while to register in my brain. I would normally ignore it but this time I don't. Something tells me I shouldn't. I pull myself out of the dark depths of my mind and I lift my head. I walk to the door and it takes all my effort to open it.
There stands Charlie, looking as spent as I feel. We just stand there, staring at each other.
"Charlie," I breathe. He sways and falls into my arms and I catch him. He buries his face into my chest, my nose pressed up against his hair. This is all we need; this is all we will ever need.
~*~
a/n: whew, that was kind of long (to me anyway, my chapters are usually annoyingly short…) anyway, please R&R on your way out!
Denverhockeygirl- oh wow, you have no idea how surprised I was when you reviewed my story. I love your "Handbook for the Sellout." Absolutely love. So I was really flattered when you reviewed my story, thanks for liking my stuff!
Crazy4nc128- Portman is a very bad boy…I'm ashamed to admit that I would probably jump on Banks too if I had the chance *hangs head in shame* haha...but I wouldn't do it if I knew it'd hurt him so much! Oh, and like doesn't even begin to describe my love for your stories ^^
Canadian-hockey-girl- poor banks, poor Charlie, poor everyone. Why must I be so sadistic?!
Andrea- I totally agree that Charlie and Adam fit together…somehow it doesn't bother me at all when it's Charlie and Adam unlike when it's Adam and, say, Julie, my teeth start to gnash in jealousy…(btw, your spelling errors weren't bad at all!)
Gina (anne918)- I'm a sucker for angst of all kinds…I was originally really obsessed with Legolas angst (Lord of the Rings) and then started on MD and Adam…poor Adam…*heh*