Author's Note: First and foremost I wish to give a special thank you to HalloweenBarbie, UntilNeverDawns, xSamiliciousx, HumanSpectre and the two guest reviews on chapter two. Also another thank you to those whom even favourited and followed the story for that act alone means the world to me. I am so glad in reading the reception of this story - it keeps me going. I always appreciate reading what you guys have to say and everytime you praise my writing, it seriously warms my heart. So here is chapter three to you all - which I hope you all enjoy so dearly. Disclaimer: I owe nothing that corresponds within the WWE, except for Charlotte - she is my creation within this universe. Expect another chapter soon after this (depending how many actually review). So please do review your thoughts, I am eager to know what you all have to say!
III: Stitches & Mondays.
He's getting better. It has been a month of rain and three weeks of living with the rabid dog known as Jonathan Good and regardless of it all - the two strangers still remain strangers even within the same vicinity. Living together however has built a system of dependency and an experience of learning. Charlotte managed to learn that Jonathan is a chain smoker, and of course he abuses the gym she holds downstairs more than often. She also learned that he hates wearing colours unless they are earth-tone. Surprisingly enough a revelation was made of relationships towards other people because Charlotte at coming home one late afternoon from school found them engaged in one another - physically. Jonathan simply enjoys sleeping around with women, and also having a good fourty ounce along the side.
Sometimes he's really bitter, cold just how she is - but in the end they need one another. Charlotte, on this Saturday night found herself eyebrows furrowed as she pushed with her index finger the glasses up against the bridge of her nose. From his armpits she could smell the old-spice deodorant from his pits and found herself a bit more relaxed in that sense. Jonathan stared at the honey coloured tendrils of Charlotte as he tucked loose strands behind her ear. Her hair felt like satin, velvety, and smelled like peaches. Because of her hair, he began eating peaches.
Charlotte glanced up at Jonathan who kept a smug grin against his lips and she could only chuckle as she the proceeded with miniature scissors to snip the stitches from his almost-fully healed wounds. He didn't wince not once and every time she would ask,
"Does it hurt?"
"No." He would always answer. Or would bitterly remark as always "Stop worrying so god damn much and just do it." He would always curse underneath his breath afterwards. He never failed doing so.
Charlotte would continue to snip away at the stitches. Just the one on his arms was sixteen. His chest was about twenty. His other arm, his right arm was fifteen. All about the same range really. The other cuts healed in time, and his bruises were gone. The two found themselves sitting on her bed as he was there shirtless - contaminating the sweetness of her room with his masculinity.
"I know you're glad that the thunders have eased down." Jonathan learned that Charlotte is scared of lightning and thunderous roars. She has a rather unhealthy obsession with reading. And also that every Monday Night she has no problem tuning into watching WWF with him because apparently she loved watching wrestling just as much as he did. In the end it proved to be a bonding mechanism for the two - causing them to look forward for Monday night's for the sake of cheering for heels and satirizing the poor gimmicks.
"Very..." She sighed heavily in relief as she then finished the last snip before she would then move over towards his chest. Regardless of injuries Jonathan always insisted on going downstairs to work out. He called it a relief and so she couldn't fight against his wishes due to the fact that it would only result a quarrel. Although it's been a month, Charlotte came to the conclusion that feels as though she's known Jonathan for longer. There was something about him that ironically enough brought forth a sense of ease even if he's someone that could simply jeopardize the direction her life is going.
Her fingers lightly grazed over his chest as she would feel her cheeks warm themselves up. This is the first time she's willingly touched a man. She tried to shy her face away as she would ease the tension from her eyebrows. Jonathan with much curiosity eyed Charlotte whom he could clearly note the cherry fade on her blossomed cheeks. His fingers itched to know the texture of her flesh, just how he wondered if her tears felt like the rain.
Charlotte realized that Jonathan doesn't sleep. And if he does it's like a power nap of four hours top.
The stitches on his chest began to hurt, for clearly the scar was much deep. "Whoever did this to you wanted you dead."
"A lot of people do. I ain't shit." Nonchalant. That angered Charlotte causing her to slightly dig the scissors into the healing tissues of his skin. Jonathan this time grimaced in pain and due to reflexes shoved Charlotte away from him causing her to fall off the bed. Charlotte would only wince as she would rub the back of her head that came in contact with the floor.
"Shit!" Jonathan snapped himself off the bed and to her side as he would try to pick her up but Charlotte would only shove him away.
"What the fuck is your deal? I'm trying to help you up." Charlotte looked up at Jonathan due to his remark and simply bore her green eyes into his blues with a glare.
"Don't fucking touch me!" She barked right back as she would hold onto her head and sucked her teeth while getting up from the floor. Jonathan's head began to hurt as he felt scorch from her word. He folded his arms over his chest and Charlotte would simply toss the scissors aside and stomped right out of the room. Jonathan stared down at the scissors as with frustrations his once muddied boots (now clean thanks to Charlotte) would kick them aside - as he then walked towards the window at hearing the familiar honk of a horn.
The red Porsche parked right outside the gates of her palace. Jonathan would quickly walk towards the hallway. "If you wanted to fucking leave me next time just say so!" He felt all the more bothered knowing Hayden was picking her up. He always hated him, resented him, yet his acidic sentiments bubbled all the more after seeing him fuck countless of girls in the backseat of his car while parked in school. Or for even putting his hands on Charlotte. He knew that Charlotte knew that he isn't exactly the faithful type - and that fact alone wilds his every insides.
Jonathan didn't know what to do - he heard her slam the door downstairs and with much certainty he's sure she did that with purpose. The sound only echoed through the eeriness of her home and Jonathan found himself only plopping himself on the bed of her room and took hold of her television remote and began to watch whatever graced the media's presence.
Waiting. Waiting for her to comeback. Or no, he couldn't.
"Fuck this." He grabbed the spare key she'd given him before he would take hold of his jacket and began to walk out the door of her home. He made sure to slam it just as hard before locking the door and heading out on his way.
What made him think twice of leaving was the one boom of lightning before he walked away.
Charlotte came home to an empty home. And much to her luck thunder began to prosper once more as every boom sent an unnerving chill down her spine. She was hoping to find him here; she was hoping to give him some take-out that she managed to grab on her way back after an strenuous afternoon and night with Hayden. She was hoping to just finish taking off the stitches and allowing his skin to roam freely. To clean his wounds once more.
Loneliness was always a force that was dominant in the way Charlotte lived her life. Regardless of all those who 'fawn' at her feet in school due to her status and even physical appearance - regardless of being with the person she least wishes to even share intimacy with - she felt alone. Her parents were never home and it was at a young age she realized she has nobody but herself. And Jonathan, her dog.
A pet? No. Not a dog.
She sighed as she dropped the bag of food onto the kitchen stand before she with little energy would tread upstairs. The only time she would snap into a different movement was because of the crackles within the dark skies. Charlotte slept with her door closed.
Every day she waited for him. He never was in English. He never was there Mondays anymore. From October fall - four months passed and it was February within a treacherous winter. He wasn't here. He wasn't there. He wasn't anywhere. But she hoped the Stray Dog would find its way back, for her to tend to the wounds she didn't finish taking care of. And for her to have someone rest on her lap as she watched Monday Night Raw.
February - Winter.
Everyone returned from their breaks that were elongated due to the excessive amount of snow throughout of January. The excitement was evident amongst the seniors of her class as their main concern was the Spring Fling that isn't until the end of March, beginning of April.
Charlotte now walking down the hallways would greet those who would greet. Small chat with those whom would speak, and kiss Hayden on his lips. Of course, she never failed to wipe her lips clean from the contamination that stems from them onto the collar of her burgundy knit sweater. But the murmurs that were once silenced would now grow little by little as Charlotte would pull her belongs out of her locker room before she would turn around and found herself pinned against the metal framing. Her eyes widened, as she would muster the urge of wanting to gasp. No, lies - the urge to swoop into her arms the person before her.
But she didn't. Something about him wasn't the same. As he towered over her she stared into those pained blue eyes and Charlotte bit her bottom lip. Her forest pairings would only quiver along with her lips as Jonathan would only pant heavily. Charlotte wanted to touch his face, ease the pain. He was hurting, she could tell. She could feel it. She could see it, evident in eyes that spell treachery but occult misery.
"Jon..." She muttered as that would only cause him to crack a grin before tucking a strand of her gold locks behind her ears.
"It's been a while Princess..." His voice - hoarse. Before he could remove his hands that were pinned above the head of Charlotte, it was all a blur as the once vivid image of Jonathan was before her was gone. She sucked in air to feed her lungs as she realized it was all a blur. Everyone was minding their own business; the murmurs came from the masses chatting amongst themselves. Jonathan Good wasn't before her. He was a fixation of her imagination. At this point - that's exactly what he felt like.
A part of her wanted to cry for her self-delusions. But she didn't dare. No, not before everyone.
She held her books close to her chest before she proceeded to walk down the hallways that felt almost like the passage to a death camp. Her memory of the month she spent with Jonathan a simple dance fleeting within the wind that carried the winter snow.
"Fuck baby that was so good..." Hayden rolled off Charlotte whom simply rested on her bed, naked as her eyes bore themselves into the greens of her room. Into the lights that are meant for the Christmas tree hung at the borders of her room for the sake of bringing some light into the pit of darkness. She paid attention to the trees she herself painted onto her wall along with the vines.
She felt ruined once more. Religiously she always did every time Hayden touched her insides. But of course, she dealt with it. This is it - this is the man she's (according to her parents) meant to spend the rest of her life with. This is apparently the will of the cosmos. But really of both their parents for the sake of maintaining the wealth and relationships between the Roves and Hawthorne's.
Her Monday Night so far has been nothing but lightning. Before she knew it, Hayden would simply press his lips gently onto her own as he was already fully dressed and left her home. She remained naked on her bed, as she would gather her velvet black sheets and wrapped them around her frame before she with shaking knees would stand up from the bed.
Charlotte didn't know what she wanted to do with herself, as she glanced towards her table side she realized it was three minutes before Monday Night Raw was to start. Quickly she rushed to get dressed by slipping on an oversized shirt and shorts. She felt the cold material touch her exposed flesh and sighed as she then ran down the stairs and at arriving to the living room she found herself only falling onto her rear. Her eyes widen.
This can't be my madness kicking in? She stared to fall down memory lane as then she remembered when she found Jonathan one Monday after coming late from school watching Monday Night Raw. Rob Van Dam just defeated The Rock by disqualification and she stared in awe and bummer – one for missing the match, in awe because she realized there was something they could both identify with. The love for the industry that is professional wrestling. She remembered the look of question in his eyes as she plopped herself next to him and began to watch. She only passed him the bag filled with take-out as she once more was lazy to make anything on her own due to the time of the night.
"So you like wrestling huh?"
"Too much for my own good."
"I promise you now Princess," He turned his head and flashed that infectious grin of his. "You're gonna see me on the big screen. Don't forget." She remembered those words, believed his words, and until this day her nerve never shook in the belief that he's going to make it somewhere.
And now, Charlotte found herself stumped, loss for words developing as she would clear her throat and rub her eyes. He sat there, eyes focused on the screen as what caused him to look away was the thud from her falling onto her ass. Jonathan would rub the back of his head, as then his hands wandered from his head to his chest. Right above where his heart would be located was another scar. Charlotte stared at the blood that covered his chest, that seeped right out of the wound and only stood up.
She approached him, looked down at him as he remained seated. She kneeled before him, she squeezed in between his legs as her hands trailed the wound. He winced lightly as she would look up into those blues that washed over peace within her system.
"I managed to make it on time."
"The show just started." She whispered as she was about to get up from the floor however only remained grounded as Jonathan would take hold of her shoulders and kept her where she kneeled. She cleared her throat, as she felt her cheeks fluster once more.
"It hurts. I think it needs stitching."
"You're back?"
"For as long as you want me around." Charlotte that night didn't pay attention to the wrestling matches. She pre-occupied herself with furrowed eyebrows at the wound before her. She would often glance up to Jonathan, whom would never fail to tuck her lose strands behind her ear, as he rested his head onto her torso, and she knitted his flesh away.
It wasn't so cold anymore. And the idea of coming home wasn't dreadful either.
"I missed your food, the free clothes, being pampered, and your constant nagging. But also you taking care of me."
"Never forget the food huh?"
"Mainly I couldn't stand the idea of you hurting or me writhing in pain when I'm away from you." Charlotte wanted to cry, but didn't. She never even heard those words from her own family. Not even from the man whom claims to love her. Instead she's hearing it from Jonathan Good.
The Stray Dog, who found its way back.