They had celebrated at the bar Charlie was currently occupying a year and some change ago. Their party that night consisted of two after all the unpacking that came with finding a place together. It was always a rarity to see Steven Meeks drink himself stupid but it was a levity that had been shared even though the paranoia that someone he knew would see him haunted his glasses. His mind had been a treadmill of Steven for so long, something Pitts had said to him, "You need to stop living asleep. Contrary to popular belief that's not where dreams get accomplished. Decide what you want, stop moping and go get it."
That had been five hours ago, funny how Charlie's reluctant acceptance of the end was taking place at the landmark where it had started. When he tried to refocus his eyes and blink, all of his senses retracted back into history. Taciturn memory flooded his nerves as he was thrown back to remember exactly what the ginger boy had been wearing that night and how he had smelt under Charlie's prying fingers.
The glass of cheap beer sweat in Charlie's hand masked how his anxiety had slicked its way across his palms. It was Friday. They always used to go out together on Fridays. Now it was just another cold and hollow night like all the rest since - Charlie violently shook his head in an attempt to break free of the misery his inner cyclical thoughts generated. The bartender's soft question about a refill was a welcome distraction until she had started asking familiar questions of her once familiar regular.
How have you been?
Why haven't I seen you in months?
What have you been up to?
And Charlie's favorite one that had been casually pelted: Where's Steven? The questions had rather blindsided him like he hadn't remembered that he had avoided the bar circuit of the city turf that Charlie and Steven had marked together as their own. All the other places Charlie had been for the past weeks had been anonymous and only knew Charlie's unaccompanied face.
It was weird to hear what his old bartender had cooed, about how sweet they had been together and so inseparable too as if Charlie needed the world to remind him of the Steven-shaped chasm that his life had become. Non verbal cues informed her that conversation hit a raw nerve that he was displaying. A shot glass full of liquid brown apology was served to him smoothly that he swallowed without ceremony.
Time passed faster than the drinks did down his throat, he didn't want to think, didn't want to talk but managed to win double his week's wages in a few rounds of pool. The balls scattered across the table like wandering constellations, one of the bystanders cracked a joke that had the couple of patrons laughing. All Charlie could think of was how much he missed the sound of Steven's breathy chuckle. It was always evident whenever Steven made that sound, Charlie had done something good, something right. The burnt up loss of that validation left nothing but ashes of cold devastation that refused to let Charlie escape and threw him back into nights when that laugh had happened.
When Steven had moved in, it didn't make headlines that free parking let alone any parking wasn't anywhere to be seen especially on a Friday. Neither one of them would have actually been able to afford the cost of paid parking anyway as the new city dwellers were still without regular work and only a few hours of residence beneath their belts. Steven stubbornly refused to back his van into the back alley that led to their flat to make the unloading significantly easier. "If I move from this space, someone else will take it, I would die if I got ticketed or towed, Charlie." Ever the goody two shoes perfectionist but he had a point that Charlie couldn't argue against.
The refusal had ended up throwing open the gate to a wild and unexpected night. The pair of them laughed like wolves celebrating the city's orange moon. Taking risks was a part of being young, at least one of them had decided ,and so through speeding traffic the two of them ran with a queen sized mattress in tow through the middle of a dangerous intersection.
Panting and breathless when they reached the door, they paused a second to laugh some more. "We're never doing that again, Charlie." Steven's smile was deliciously sharp and hypnotizing - but he was right in the end, Steven hadn't even bothered. That mattress was still somewhere lounging about, hidden in the closet to whisper Steven's cologne every time Charlie walked past it.
After drinking at the bar, they had sat together on that mattress that lay on the bare wood floor. The promising light of the full moon shone through the stained glass window to splay patterns of colour across Steven highlighting his figure like a creature of grace. Knees up and huddled together, Charlie's arm curved around his shoulder, they gazed at the mess of clothes, boxes and the textbooks littered across the very empty and furniture-lacking living space. The silence was heavy and thick with all of the necessities and chores that had yet to be accomplished.
"We really need a pasta maker." Their new home, their first one together, was brightly christened with the divine sound of Steven's unbridled laughter. A soft kiss was administered affectionately to Steve's forehead, the lead up before Charlie pulled him close into the inner crescent of his body on the bed. They had held each other through a night that had been illuminated with a future of infinite possibilities and paralyzing young adult anxieties.
Syrupy drunkenness weighed him down as he teetered towards the dreaded apartment His face bent in disgust and deep in thought that had him misstep. Charlie stumbled violently, a sharp pain blossomed in his ankle but caught himself on a conveniently close lamp post, it was hardly anything that would hinder his one man pity party. With an obvious limp and lips pressed tight in a wince, he crossed the shiny orange streaked black street when a stray ghost of a memory suddenly possessed him.
It was so hard to resist touching Steven when he was decorated in Charlie's clothes.
It was the most intimate sight Charlie had ever seen and continued to ignite him every single time. This time Steven was wrapped in one of Charlie's blue numbers looking so disheveled it didn't even register that Steven was a jerk since he wore Charlie's clothes better. The painter would have to bite his lip to try and contain himself when he entered the living room, Steven curled up quite happily with their chocolate point siamese cat in his studious lap. This was becoming too frequent to not be on purpose, it was blatantly obvious what happened whenever Steven wore his boyfriend's clothes and he had to know that Charlie would have him naked and squirming before the night was done.
The shirt in question rightfully belonged to Charlie but since Steven's loose ginger curls and large framed glasses wore it so well (rude) Charlie plotted his revenge and eventually had it removed. He was forced to recall how the cotton threads had slid slowly between the ridges of his fingertips as he helped Steven disrobe through his bashful, blushing protests that lacked sincere heat. Steven had been talking but even before hands had reached the hem of his shirt to explore the smooth skin underneath, the conversation had been lost. Words strung together had been sent to a space that Charlie's mind was not interested in because damn if his boyfriend wasn't doing this on purpose.
Were people even legally allowed to taste this good? It was like warming clay, and Charlie's hands were hot and persistent until Steven's lecture had softened into sighs that let Charlie know just how good he was doing. There had been an unbridled eagerness to Charlie's all encompassing touch on that unusually cold Friday night. A good memory to be lost in while he sat on the pavement, ankle a throbbing reminder of what a fuck up he was.
When their eyes actually met, Charlie's grip to reality shattered like the window he had been thrown out of last week. "I'm right here, Charlie." Was this a fever dream? Had someone laced Charlie's beer back at the bar? He rubbed his eyes in his drunken disbelief but there was no mistaking the freckled hands under his armpits that pulled the inebriated artist to his feet. "Let's go inside, I brought back some great Italian coffee."
Was this a religious experience that mirrored what Jesus felt when believers prayed his name in echoing churches saturated with naked need? While the dream of hearing his name in Steven's voice had plagued him, there had always been this sort of surrendered underlined understanding that it was a privilege that had long ago been lost permanently.
Now and suddenly it had appeared back into what was hopefully reality. It was still just a shell of experience because it was so hard for Charlie to believe that Steven what physically and honestly standing within arm's reach once again.
Charlie's hands drifted to his armpits as if he was testing how his nerves were firing to make sure Steven's touch had actually been what had picked him up and it all wasn't some sort of sick mirage.
With the fascination of a newborn, Charlie stretched his hand out before him and almost flinched when he made the slightest contact with the fabric of Steven's thick and dark jacket. The waters were tested further, a skeptical eyebrow alerted a subtle warning just before Charlie yanked hard to see if a real human weight would resist his ferocious pull. He balked and stumbled back with large bug eyes when indeed the solid form of Steven had a slight give to Charlie's strength yet remained solidly where his feet had been planted.
That sweet voice was talking to him, the one he had missed so much but this experience had him questioning the very fabric of his existence. When having such an existential crisis and fighting to discern what was real versus his dreams Charlie's head had been plunged under a sort of water from which he could hear Steven's voice but not process a single word. What was happening?! Whatever Steven was saying, Charlie interrupted him, frantic and still in a surreal state of disbelief.
"I know...that there are days, Steven, where I seem like a spilled puzzle box," With the fragility of a falling snowflake, Charlie reached for his other half's hand whom gave no resistance to the touch. "You're flipping over all the pieces and frantically searching for corners and straight-edges to make some kind of sense - just...please promise me you won't forget the picture I once made...the one I want to make again...the one that you help me become."
It was like some giant fist had wrung all oxygen from Steven's body with the weight of Charlie's desperate stare. "How long have you been rehearsing that?" Electric smile flickered across his face to flash Steven's teeth and it left Charlie wanton, completely taken in.
Their mouths were together before his weight had Steven's back pressed against his car. It was an action of abject despondency, how dare you leave me.
Loving had always been Charlie's strongest suit and with the fervour of his pent up hurt and anger it was unleashed to wrap around Steven's legs, limbs, to hold him close and to never let a misunderstanding this grievous ever happen again.
It was difficult to decide to keep kissing him or to try and talk through Steven's surrendered sighs.
Even with the trapezoid mouth he had so missed nibbled between Charlie's teeth, he couldn't stop the urge to tell Steven just how stupid he was with tears that escaped from his liquor-reddened eyes.
Composure fought for dominance and finally won, "Where in God's name have you been?" Charlie forced out when he was able to separate from the hot saliva strings their mouths had made.
"What are you talking about, I've been in England. You knew that!"
"Eng…" Charlie's world had shifted way too much this night for him to be able to properly handle. "I fucking did not!"
"You bloody well did too!"
"I thought you had left me!" Charlie's exasperated shout countered, all humour fled from Steven's face. The severity of the situation and the provided explanation for Charlie's behaviour dawned across Steven's suddenly pale face.
"o-oh, Charlie…" hands with freckled constellations tenderly cupped Charlie's face and the subsequent tears that started to spill like the first of the season's snow. Soon his affectionate whisper breathed in Charlie's ear just the way it had used to when they had held each other close and gotten drunk off each other's scent. "Oh you idiot...this is why you need to listen to me…"
And now it was Steven that initiated their public kissing under the orange lamp lights to create another ghost in Charlie's memory that would haunt him eternally. It was a kiss so soft and tender and unlike anything that Charlie would ever experience again.
Steven had seen that Charlie had been limping earlier in the distance when he had driven up. There weren't any offered protests against additional assistance when he put Charlie's arm around his shoulders to let the injured lean his weight against the crook of his shoulder and neck. The stairs were a bit tricky since they were out of practice but with a slight struggle Steve managed to get the smashed boy up the two flights of stairs to their rented place.
"Do you have any idea how expensive it is to make a long distance call? We lived primarily off pancakes and peanut butter, Charlie. I tried to tell you several times it was a nine month radio intensive, someone had backed out last minute-"
"You could have written!" The shriek Charlie released was nothing short of hysterical. This was a lot to process in such a sudden and short amount of time. He had wasted how many nights over a breakup that apparently had never happened?!
"I-I-I…" Steven is left searching for words because Charlie had nailed him with guilt. "I did. Kinda. Sort of." Charlie continued to look despondent and like a puppy it tugged on Steven's already weak heartstrings. "So...we did a lot with radios, from the technical aspects all the way to like, reporting and writing sketches," Steven was starting to get excited at the memory but he promised to keep on track, "I built a radio...named Dalton…" When Charlie stiffened like a predator suddenly alert, Steven was left vulnerable under the sharp and penetrating gaze. "And...we worked extensively with those machines...but you know I'm an Eagle Scout so," Steven's tomato face stared down at his feet. Why this was so embarrassing for him was an embarrassment itself, "I'd send out little messages of morse code...frequently. Even after they told me to stop, actually." It was like Steven's words were a torch that caramelized sugar on top of Charlie's soul.
He would never look at creme brulee the same way again.
"Like?" Charlie slyly prompted, his fingers skipping up Steven's sleeve.
"Oh stupid stuff like, 'Dalton is just as difficult as you', 'buy milk' 'I miss you really wanna kiss you', that sort of thing." Steven melted into the softest smile as Charlie slowly reeled him close.
All of Charlie's further responses were hummed across the pale canvas of Steven's neck. He was left kissing in empty space when Steven pushed him away. It was somber when their eyes met, "I didn't write and I didn't call because I knew one word from you and I would have come home. I'm sorry. I thought...I thought you knew and understood…"
Old. So old.
