Chapter Text
“How have you contributed? You think you’d be able to become independent after college? Charlie, open your eyes, you don’t know what real life is really like,” Charlie’s father taunts his son, scoffing at the stupidity in a form of a helpless person sitting just opposite the dining table.
Charlie glances back at his mother, searching for at least for a hint of understanding and belief.
From time immemorial, Charlie remembers being fed with sentences like this which only undermined his confidence. Partly, Charlie gets why he still looks like a child in his parents’ eyes, but they surely can’t have him for someone who’s completely useless forever. His parents feel distant most of the time. Charlie blew a chance of talking to them the moment he realized it’s pointless to argue with someone who is blinded by their own truth. But still, the flame inside him hasn’t extinguished completely. He still hopes he can talk some sense into them and defend himself for once.
“But everybody starts from zero,” Charlie reasons. He doesn’t need anyone breathing down his neck, controlling him like an infant. That’s what the life is about: learning, gaining skills, making mistakes. If everything would be so easy, there wouldn’t be a single problem all around the broad world. The mistakes are meant to be made, so Charlie can learn from them. It’s not a sin to be not always correct.
His father huffs an irritated breath. He folds his arms on his chest and leans into the chair. He looks Charlie up and down, searching for anything what can make Charlie go speechless in a matter of seconds. “Charlie, you’re not cut out for to take care of yourself. You think it’s so easy, isn’t it? The imagination is what’s drawing you closer, I’m certain. But let me tell you, you aren’t ready.” He spreads his hands, questioningly looking right into Charlie’s eyes. He doesn’t mean any of these words. Otherwise, he wouldn’t speak to Charlie as if he was a child whose parents try to explain to him the most basic things on the world.
Irritation sneaks up on Charlie, and Charlie strives to keep his cool. He clenches his hands under the table and breathes out in order to calm down.
“Your father’s right, Charlie. It’d be better if you stayed here for a while. That way, you don’t have to think about paying the bills and chase after a job aimlessly. You have yet to discover the world, step by step. There’s no need to rush it,” Charlie’s mom dismisses the thick tension between her husband and her son. Her voice is loud enough to reach Charlie’s ears, caressing him like rays during springtime. The words are tender, not meant to harm him in any sense.
But she wouldn’t change the sides and stand by Charlie. That pisses him off. Charlie hates the way how his own father thinks of him to be totally clueless, and all his mother does is agree with him. She nods at any statement he makes, not letting out what she really thinks. Charlie knows there would be consequences, but that doesn’t mean she has to throw away any given opportunity and call it a bad luck when she didn’t even try.
“You can’t possibly hold me here! I can take care of myself. Stop pretending I’m irresponsible and give me a chance, finally,” Charlie raises his voice, justifying his decision, his conviction. He could never get hands on justice, slipping past his fingers. Every time, he looks like an ungrateful child before his parents when he expresses his views. He’s not sure if his siblings were treated like this. Maybe it’s because they all moved out when Charlie was still too innocent to taste the bitter reality.
But Charlie doubts his parents did the same to same.
Charlie has the misfortune to be compared to his older brother any suitable moment. Those words hurt more than any injury ever could. Tattered in invisible scars of derisive banter, he endures it. He really doesn’t have a choice.
The people he’s lived with since his early childhood never felt like a real family.
Looking back, it was all the same.
The yells, the cries, the constant remarks which were meant to demean Charlie were getting worse the more mature Charlie became. And every time his father taunted him about his dreams, Charlie flew away because he understood that no matter how loudly he will be speaking, the words will never actually reach them. They would drown in the see of doubts before Charlie would say them out loud.
The sound of the slap fills the room along with a quick yelp.
It burns his face. Charlie can feel how the red slowly gathers in his cheek, stinging under only a light pressure. “You don’t talk to your parents in a tone like that. We don’t deserve to have you yell at us. All we are doing is trying to help you before you manage to ruin your life. Save that behavior for your friends, and let’s see who will stay by your side. Do you think you can find a girlfriend if you will be stubborn and try to prove how much of a hero you are?”
Charlie wishes he could erase the look his father gives him while he is towering over him, furious. Like fire, which is out of control, spreading around like a disease, tearing apart everything.
Charlie almost immediately stands up, cupping his face with a hint of embarrassment flowing his body. He marches to his bedroom, not sparing a single glance back at either of his parents. When his hand reaches the door handle, he hurries inside and makes sure to close the door behind him quietly, not wanting to add fuel to the already widespread fire.
His room is the only place which left in debris.
Charlie locks himself in the room, not allowing anyone to enter. Not that anyone would try to sit with Charlie and have a talk with him for once as with an adult person. He clumsily throws himself on his bad, feeling numb to the feeling. He doesn’t feel real. Totally hollow.
From his bed, he hears the enraged voice of his father from the downstairs. “I told you he will be a problem,” he complaints into the death silent house.
His mother whisper-yells, “And what you want to do, kick him out because he isn’t giving in to you? He’s your son as well!” His mother wasn’t one for the problems but liked to throw the difficulties out the window, saying it’s for the better good. As a child, Charlie never understood her behavior, who decided for her to act that way.
“I already have one. Why would I want another one! You know he wasn’t meant to be here, you said it yourself when we had Maddie that you don’t wish to have another kid, and here he is!”
Another scar on his already damaged heart.
The walls are suffocating Charlie. His green crystal eyes water, and he bites his lip to not let a single whine escape past his lips.
He remembers sitting as a child on the staircase, listening to the heated discussion echoing from the kitchen, but the words were incoherent for Charlie to understand. They seeped with so much anger and disgust, he couldn’t simply comprehend the meaning. He bets that’s what he heard as a child. He wants to plug his ears until he hears nothing but peace and give in to the tenderness that tickles his heart.
It takes a while.
He has trouble falling asleep. Sobs fall out of his mouth, and Charlie tries to suppress them. The pain in his chest tightens and chokes Charlie mercilessly. He can hear how hushed the conversation downstairs has become, inaudible for Charlie.
After beatless moments, he finally falls into the infinite realm that used to be black. He expects a tranquil night, hoping there won’t be anything to bug him once he drifts to sleep. Because that’s the only realm where he doesn’t listen to the insults.
Instead, he was greeted with another cry.
A dream.
“I didn’t raise you like this!”
Well, if it can be considered a dream.
He observes the woman before him, watching the tears slide down her face.
“Lo siento, mamá.”
The next morning, Charlie wakes up covered in his sweat, tears dried on his flushed cheeks. His messy hair frames his face. He takes in his own room which didn’t change since yesterday. Charlie closes his eyes and attempts to recall the missing parts of the lively dream.
A memory.
Charlie knows the saying going around. From a certain age, you start to see present and pasts memories of a person you will fall in love with. Your dreams aren’t yours. There are reminiscences of a single person you are predestinated by fate.
He blinks a few times, breathing steadily.
A memory of a boy which seems to share the same misfortune as him.
For the past few years, each night Charlie has experienced the same shuddering feeling, travelling in the world with limited time. Just rarely the night is made up from pure joy and wholehearted giggles. The memories are patched with dejection most of the time. Sometimes, the feelings are so immense Charlie is sure he can feel the weight on his chest when he wakes up.
Quackity has told him it happens to him as well.
Naturally, Charlie can’t remember everything, the core moments lost in the morning mist. It feels too intimate to know the details about a stranger, but the unique bond is what makes Charlie believe there is a special connection between them.
Quackity has offered Charlie to come live with him in an apartment together with Wilbur, but Charlie feels too sheepish to live with the couple. He knows he would be a fifth wheel if he decided to give it a chance. Sooner or later, it would feel awkward when Charlie would come home after another wasted day just to see Quackity and Wilbur being all happy, blinded by the delight. It’s like living with his parents, but the couple doesn't give a damn about Charlie’s life decisions.
Well, maybe slightly.
And thus, Charlie is forced to live with his parents until he finds himself an apartment he can actually afford. It’s actually way harder than he thought. The rent of the apartment houses in the downtown are simply expensive. Charlie would like to live in the heart of the city but as he scrolls through the prices, he feels he will be living with his parents for longer than he hoped for.
Luckily, he has found a job rather quickly which surprised not even his parents, but him as well. He didn’t think he will be lucky the first few months after he graduates.
But after constant scrolling thousands of different sites, looking for a tiny but not cramped apartment for a single person which is conveniently located, he has found a jackpot.
When he casually announces to his parents he’s moving out, his father taunts him again. Nothing new. Charlie still feels like a small child who’s being scolded when his father brings out the old lecture to introduce Charlie to life. And so, Charlie mentions he’s not moving in with anyone else and wants to live alone for the time being. They look shocked, bewildered by the fact. As if they really have been thinking Charlie can’t take care of himself.
He wants to leave as soon as possible. So, Charlie gladly takes the opportunity to leave his house which long ago couldn’t be called his home. Charlie can take care of himself and even proves it when after the first month he doesn't crawl back to his parents’ house, begging for mercy. From time to time, he receives a call from his father, but it feels so forced Charlie feels stupid to act like he isn’t holding a grudge against him.
The summer slowly kisses the sky with blue paint, sending a pleasant wave of heat through the busy streets. The air is filled with the scents of fruits and field flowers.
Charlie presses the button of the elevator, his hand gripping the plastic bag with groceries. His other hand holds the phone to his ear, letting Quackity’s voice fill the empty hall with a laughter. “I thought you said you don’t need my help?” Quackity sing-songs, enjoying Charlie’s misery.
Charlie sighs. “That’s right, I don’t but... Can’t I look for an excuse to hang out with my friend?” Charlie watches the number above the door descends second by second. Quackity leaves another fit of giggles fill the pleasant call.
The summer outside feels cold comparing to the years before, but Charlie is glad he isn’t sweaty. He wouldn’t bear constantly wiping his palms in his shorts or running his hand over his forehead just to wipe the forming drops of sweat. Maybe it’s because it’s just the beginning of the hot season, and the late-night calls mixed with heat are just about to appear once Charlie will be too comfortable with the weather forecast.
The doors of the elevator slide open, and Charlie is quick to slip inside. He pushes the button right next to the bright five and waits for the door to close again.
“I think we can make a stop tonight,” Quackity hums. Charlie hears a rustle from the other side of the call and supposes Quackity has just gotten up from the couch. “I’m just gonna ask Wilbur. Not that he will say no just to make sure if he doesn’t have already his own plans.”
Charlie nods and almost instantly hears Wilbur’s hoarse voice. Quackity asks him a question and then repeats himself, now adding an annoying undertone to his voice. Wilbur answers him, the reply incoherent. Charlie smiles when he hears as Quackity huffs another breath and gulps down a remark all while Wilbur is laughing loudly for Charlie to hear.
For a moment, Charlie wonders how it feels to know who your soulmate is. To have them closely after searching for them in the places where not even the sunbeams can reach. Quackity tried to explain it to him million times: the way your heart is twisting in a familiar way when your eyes meet, how your stomach is full of butterflies all while your heart flutters, but Charlie isn’t sure if he’s ever experienced a feeling so strong towards someone it makes his head spin.
All there connects Charlie with his soulmate for now are the memories popping up in his dreams. He can’t recall all of them, forgetting most of the parts the moment he rises up from his bed, blinking away the last remains of sleep. However, there are still some which haunt Charlie to this day, feeling pitiful towards the boy who he’s closest to only when his eyes are closed.
The doors of the elevator open again for them, and Charlie promptly steps out. The sunlight seeps through the windows, falling just before Charlie’s feet.
“Yeah, he said he’ll gladly come to see you,” Quackity mutters, adding another light comment. Charlie replies with a low hum, carrying through the almost empty hall.
“Okay, that’s settled then,” Charlie says and giggles when Quackity says his bye. He ends the call which result in a quick beep. Charlie slips the phone into his pocket and fiddles for his keys instead.
Charlie runs his eyes over the hall and takes in how one of the doors right next to his apartment is left widely open. Curiosity soaks his body upon noticing several cardboard boxes left unguarded before the entrance. Peace rules over the area, interrupted by the hushed talking from the same habitation the cardboard boxes sit before.
A clonk resounds in the silent building as Charlie steps closer to his apartment.
“Estúpido idiota. Te dije que tuvieras cuidado, ya volcaste una de las cajas,” the voice semi-shouts, getting Charlie’s attention. The bewilderment oozes from his face as he approaches the door. Any other time, he wouldn’t even spare a glimpse and narrow it straight to the familiar door.
Maybe it’s the foreign accent which draws Charlie to at least have a quick look before he can run into his own apartment, or it is just a pure bewilderment to see who his new neighbors are.
“Llevas quejándote desde que llegamos. Roier, cállate, por favor.”
As Charlie passes by the boxes, he sneaks his sight into the apartment. He takes in two people around Charlie’s age. One of them is kneeling over a spilled box, gathering some stuff from the floor. A black cap is slowly falling from his head uncovering the sweaty dark hair under the cap.
Charlie moves his green eyes on the significantly taller man who hovers just beside his friend. The black shirt is enveloping his body, hugging his curves delicately. Charlie ducks his head to the side, trying to get a better look at his face.
As if reading his mind, the man turns around and faces Charlie. The glasses are sitting on his nose, black irks shining from behind them. His tanned skin makes a great contrast with his hair which frames his pretty face. The golden earring on his right ear matches the frame color of his glasses. The stranger’s lips almost instantly turn upwards when their eyes meet.
Charlie feels himself heat up. The outburst inside him makes him so overwhelmed he stands still for a slight moment.
In the air hangs something familiar, as if this has happened before, as if Charlie is able to guess the name of the person standing before him. Charlie wants to take in every detail, engrave this in his head forever.
His heart races miles.
Charlie doesn’t know if he should introduce himself, he is too taken aback by the beautifully crafted face which is smiling right at him.
Instead, he awkwardly nods his head towards the man as a sign of his soon depart and nearly runs to his door, slipping the key in his doorknob swiftly.
Well, that was more than just odd. His body feels like he’s on fire.
“I saw you have new neighbors. The couple finally moved out?” Wilbur remarks when Charlie places a plate before him with various pastries he bought earlier today. Charlie doesn’t respond until he sits down on the bar stool. He folds his hands on the island and watches how Quackity is the first one to munch on the sweets. Wilbur holds the cup with the black coffee Charlie made. The steam is slowly rising form the cup.
Both Quackity and Wilbur radiate a very similar energy that wakes a person up. The same personality traits but different appearances: Wilbur’s brown curls look soft to touch, made from pure silk while Quackity keeps his hair hidden under a hat most of the time, not even when the sun would shine on everyone’s head. Only a few black strands protrude from under Quackity’s hat. Even the shade of brown in their eyes is slightly different, but they still spark the same, bathing in devotion.
“Yeah, for the best,” Charlie says in one breath. The walls in here aren’t the thickest, but it doesn’t take much effort to listen in to the conversations happening just behind the shared brick wall. “I was done with their bullshit. It was also so awkward to listen to them yell and then mutter the same insults once they stepped out of the apartment, pretending everything’s alright.”
Quackity’s eyes jump back and forth between Charlie and Wilbur. “I’d probably wouldn’t bear it and moved out,” Quackity admits and mirrors Wilbur’s unbothered face.
Charlie shrugs. He almost shed tears when he found the small ad for an apartment he’s been living in for almost over a year now. He wouldn’t give up on the this all even when he knew just how much loud his neighbors can be. He’d literally do anything if it meant to get out own his parents’ house.
Charlie shakes his head at the mention of his name.
“Did you greet them?” Wilbur poses another question and lifts the cup filled hot liquid to his lips.
Charlie purses his lips and scratches his nose. “I haven’t gotten a chance meet them. I just saw the boxes, so I knew something was up,” he lies, the words leaving a bitter taste on his tongue. He doesn’t want to mention the fact he stared at his rather hot neighbor for longer than any stranger wo. Not only that but he also fled from before the doorway as if he didn’t just pierce a whole through his chest.
“Either way, they look quite cool,” Quackity remarks and takes another chocolate muffin in his hand. He picks on Charlie’s confused look and slyly smiles when he notices how Charlie’s green irks carefully watch his friend’s move.
Something bubbles inside Charlie’s stomach. A hot unpleasant feeling gushes Charlie’s body withing matter of minutes before it has him sinking into the stool. Maybe the look the boy-next-door gave him was actually just to cast a spell on him because Charlie is sure that when he falls asleep, the last image he can see is the happy smile on his precisely crafted face.
“Do you expect someone out there will reciprocate your love? Do you think you deserve to be loved?”
Quiet. So quiet Charlie is sure he can hear the anger rising from the woman towering over him. A whimper escapes his mouth.
“Answer me.”
Charlie opens his eyes. He’s not sure if it’s the dream which forces his eyes open or the light sound carrying through his home. The hollowness brushes his heart, and Charlie scowls. He hates nights like this: when he feels watched from every corner, but he can’t do anything about it. It’s not really him who’s feeling that way. He wonders if his soulmate is also able to sense his emotions. The pure joy or the aftertaste of woe every time he wakes up into the new day.
Charlie attempts to stand up before he hears another light knock on his door. He puts on some proper shirt and pair of grey shorts to pretend he didn’t wake up just moments ago. He lazily walks up to the front door. He has to stop himself to put on a small smile before his hand meets the cool feeling of the door handle.
The moment he opens the door, Charlie takes in the person standing in the doorway. “Roier, no es–” The tall man from the other day stops talking when he realizes it’s not his friend (Roier was it?) and freezes on the spot. “I– I am sorry, I’ve mistaken the door. I thought... I hope I don’t disturb or anything.” He laughs sheepishly.
Charlie is hazed by his brown eyes so much he stays silent for a moment. He blinks a few times. “No, of course not– it happens. It’s nothing really,” he reassures the person standing just before him and waves his hand. Without thinking, he raises the same hand to his eyes and smears any last hunches of the slumber. He pushes his glasses up.
“Uhm, well nice to meet you...”
“Charlie,” he blurts out. “It’s Charlie.”
“Okay, then nice to meet you, Charlie .” The way he spells out Charlie’s given name sends him to the space. He’s floating, he must be with the way he experiences so many emotions at once. He can tell he’s getting dizzy just by simple staring, darting his eyes over the nameless man’s flushed face. Maybe he’s just too sleepy to actually recognize what is dwelling inside him.
Charlie giggles and leans his head on the side of the door, legs slowly giving out. He blames it on the morning. “And you are?”
“Mariana.”
Charlie feels he knew the name. He heard it somewhere. He just can’t remember why the name rings a bell.
He lets his heart sink into the pool of admiration. He attempts to ignore the fact the smile which tugs at his lips is a bit warmer and wide considering it’s narrowed at a complete stranger.