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Knox Overstreet was the golden boy.
He came from an excellently structured family, was good at sports, popular, coveted by girls, the pride of his parents.
Besides being an incurable romantic, he was also very handsome, which facilitated his casual romantic relationships, but, over time, he realized that he should introduce one of the girls he dated and slept with to his parents. He should get married, have kids, and, if he was a son of a bitch like his father, commit adultery once in a while.
He chose Chris Noel.
She was like him, beautiful, charming, and sometimes, he would walk around holding her hand, showing it off like a trophy. They were the perfect couple. At least, they convinced themselves that they were.
He had everything under control until the last week of his sophomore year, when he had a pathetic fight with Charles Dalton, his classmate and friend. Somehow, that was the trigger for everything Knox believed in to crumble like a sandcastle too close to the tide. Subtle, predictable, and inevitable.
Inevitable. That's what Charles was.
Knox was the sandcastle, simple. Perhaps an imposing image, but built of fragile material.
Charles was the ocean, the overthrowing force that had control over many things. Abyssal, mysterious, and destructive.
They hadn't spoken for a week. Charlie had said something rude to Knox about his untouchable relationship with Chris.
"Well, Knox, if you've managed to convince yourself that she's more special than all the others you've had, then make her the mother of your children.
...It's hilarious. You think you're so good that you believe she loves herself a little more, just because you love her."
Knox memorized every word and rewound them in his mind every time he looked at Charlie's face. Whether concentrating on some school assignment, smoking his thousandth cigarette during poets' meetings, showering, laughing, dozing during class...
He was deeply offended. But not because he thought his friend's words were lies; they were painfully true. He had never been so contradicted in his entire life, and it made his blood boil in unimaginable ways.
He didn't bother to pretend he wasn't angry.
It happened during one of the countless poets' meetings.
Knox recited a romantic poem by Lord Byron, while, soon after, Charlie recited an original poem and made a point of reading it while looking deep into Knox's eyes, as if he knew truths that Knox hadn't even admitted to himself.
"One of your thousand hearts
Will fall for the one who shines like a pearl
Removing her from the shell, touching all of its parts
Like she wasn't the thousandth girl
Your daughter will have the hair of the first one
but the nose will resemble the third.
While the second looks just like your son.
It's useless to start counting back.
Since you won't tell her she's just the one who looks better on your neck.
That she's the self-love you lack.
Haunted by the heritage of the kisses left all over your skin.
I hope your least favorite kid resembles me."
Everyone understood what the poem was about, but they didn't associate it with Knox. Charlie was the only one who knew about all the pretense for the sake of the traditional family Overstreet.
Neil quoted Hamlet, Todd, Sylvia Plath.
Pitts recited a clichéd sonnet and Meeks only talked about the book he was recently reading.
Cameron almost recited the entire biography of Frost, the chosen poet of the moment.
In the end, everyone started heading out of the cave, but Knox found an excuse to keep Charlie there for a few more minutes.
"Charlie, can you stay and help me find my ring? I think I lost it..."
Charlie, who already had one foot out, turned and smiled. That damned smug smile.
"Of course, I have a flashlight."
Before going back inside the cave, he waved to Neil, indicating that the others could continue without them for now.
"Hey, Knox? Lost your wedding ring?"
"What's wrong with you, huh?"
"What are you talking about?"
Charlie was a walking open book, unable to hide his smug smile.
"Don't play dumb."
Knox approached, intending to intimidate him with his size.
"It's a shame you didn't like my poem, I wrote it especially for you! Didn't your parents teach you to say thank you when you receive a gift?"
"Seriously? A hypothetical universe where my children will have the physical characteristics of everyone I've slept with?"
Knox raises his voice, Charlie turns around his corpulent figure and sits on a rock, lighting his cigarette.
"Makes you think, doesn't it?"
Knox turned to look him in the face and said,
"You should stop daydreaming and leave my relationship alone."
"Notice how I didn't say anything to offend her. Why would I? She's good, very good... And you're good too, so you got the best of both worlds."
"I'm not with her because of family pressure."
"Oh, of course not, love. You're with her out of a guilty conscience."
The petname disconcerted Knox for a moment.
After a brief silence that seemed endless, Charlie stood up from the rock and began walking towards him, also trying to intimidate, but not with his physical stature. With his words full of truth.
"A guilty conscience because you could never fall in love with any of the various girls you've been with, so you convinced yourself that you love Chris to try to coerce yourself into eventually loving her for real.
She deserves someone who loves her, and we both know that."
Knox unleash his guilty.
"I know! I know perfectly well, okay? I know how I feel, I don't need you playing psychologist, throwing everything in my face!"
"If you know, why are you so bothered? Have you been trying to ignore this absence of feeling?"
"That's exactly what I'm doing."
"You can't ignore a problem and expect it to magically disappear!"
Knox began pacing in circles, raising his voice.
"I have no choice! I can't give any opening that reveals what I truly feel. I have a reputation to uphold, Charlie!"
"You care so much about your family's name but not your own! What's inside you that's so embarrassing?"
"I'll never tell you anything!"
"Why not?"
"So you can write a poem about it at the next meeting? Thanks, but no."
Charlie walked toward Knox and stopped in front of him, preventing him from continuing to pace in circles.
"What's wrong? Nobody knows you like I do anyway! What are you afraid of?"
"Of many things! I'm not like you."
"Fuck you, Knox. You're ridiculous."
More shouting.
"I'm ridiculous?! As far as I remember, you were the one who said my nonexistent children inherited features from the people I slept with! What do you want? Attention?
Do you really want my children to have your face that bad?"
For the first time, Charlie was speechless for a while. Knox took a while to realize what he'd said.
His mouth opened and closed a few times before he mustered the courage to answer Knox. He pretended not to care about what had crossed his mind for a split second.
"Haunted by the heritage of the kisses left all over your skin.
I hope your least favorite kid resembles me."
"I don't remember being one of those purely carnal, insignificant relationships you've had."
Charlie said, frowning.
"But you're always so invested in my feelings that it irritates me."
"Because, believe it or not, Knox, I care about a selfish son of a bitch like you."
"Selfish? I'm preserving not only my image, but my parent's."
"You didn't even want this. You didn't want to preserve anything!"
The tone of voice rises from both sides again.
"I didn't ask for this! I have no choice!"
"Don't you ever fantasize about what you really want?"
"Damn it, Charlie all the time—"
"Then be a man and act like nothing exists! Seize the fucking day!"
For some reason, Charlie's last sentence silenced Knox's thoughts.
Seizing the day. It was something he couldn't do, not today, not ever.
"I'd rather die knowing I'll never be a worthy man, letting my shell reflect that of a real man. My shell, my reputation, my life... I know how to lie to myself, Charlie."
"But you don't know how to lie to me."
They both knew.
Charlie toned down his intense radiance in order to silently soothe Knox.
Knox discreetly surrendered.
It was something between the two of them. The lingering glances during poets' meetings, in class, in the shower, anywhere.
When they laughed together, when they cried together, when they were silent. The absence of verbal expression of feelings, somehow, made them even more real.
Charlie, the most indiscreet person in the world, found a way to touch Knox without anyone looking, except for the times when he ironically kissed his hand as a feigned act of chivalry or casually hugged him by the shoulders. Of course, it all started with a joke, like:
"Wow, if you want me, just say so!"
"Of course, you're obsessed with me."
"You want me so much you look stupid!"
Until it stopped being a joke.
After that night, classes ended and they didn't speak to each other for the entire summer vacation. It wasn't difficult since they lived far apart and never bothered to get in touch. But the empty days passed quickly and, in the blink of an eye, the next school year began.
Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. Four months.
Knox and Chris had gone out together one Saturday night for dinner and to spend time together, and it was only after his girlfriend left crying that he realized how oblivious he had always been to their relationship. Now, more than ever.
At first, he hadn't understood the reason for her tears, until he realized that the last few times they were together, he had barely looked her in the eyes, talked to her, or kissed her.
If it were a few months ago, he would have blamed Charlie. Now, he knows he's guilty. That's the weight of the lie.
He slowly saw control slipping from his hands. He started drinking, going out alone at night, getting into fights for sport.
The only love he wanted to experience was inconvenient. The only thing left for him to feel was pain. When filled with anguish, he didn't feel the emptiness echoing inside him.
He became trapped in a routine after breaking up with Chris.
He would sneak out at night, drink irresponsibly, and when he wasn't physically fighting with someone in town, he would train alone, punching the big tree near the cave where he would sit and wait until he sobered up.
Maybe he would have said something to Charlie if they were still talking. It had been 5 or 6 months since they had exchanged words deeper than a "Hi" and a "Bye."
Perhaps no one knew, perhaps no one noticed his disheveled hair every morning, his slightly deeper dark circles under his eyes, his bruised and calloused hands.
But Charlie noticed, and over time, he put the pieces together.
On one of Knox's monotonous nights, where he had gotten into yet another fight that would have made his parents yell at him for 40 uninterrupted minutes, he went to the tree he frequented every weekend and sat on its roots.
He had a cut on his lip and was certainly sober by now, he just didn't want to go back to Welton. Not now.
Not now that he heard someone approaching.
The rustling of leaves and the breaking of branches warned that someone was approaching in short steps. The sound came from behind the tree.
The smell of Marlboro Red made him suspect who it could be.
Charlie's figure circled the tree and looked him in the eyes before glancing at a space in the tree's roots.
"Hey, is anyone sitting there? Or do you really come to the forest alone whenever you can?"
Knox didn't move his head, only his eyes. His gaze, which had previously overflowed with frustration and anguish, now softened, pleading for something he feared to name.
He didn't say a word, only moved slightly to the side so Charlie could sit as comfortably as possible.
An uncomfortable silence settled in. Charlie examined his friend's hands, wounds different from those he already knew. Up close he could see his bruised lip and a superficial scratch on his cheek. Knox felt Charlie's gaze burning.
Normally, he would have looked in another direction, would have avoided the gaze as much as possible, but what did he have to lose?
He looked at Charlie. Both with their heads resting against the tree, a few centimeters apart, shoulders almost touching.
"Charlie, I really wanted to hate you..."
He said in a whisper, his breath had a faint smell of alcohol.
"You spent all these months avoiding me without hating me?"
He said in the same tone, without looking away. His breath, however, had the same smell of cigarettes as always.
"It's not your fault that I was a coward."
Charlie looked directly at his hands. It hurt just to look at them.
"Fighting doesn't make you any less of a coward. This isn't the fight you should be picking."
Knox, in an act of intimacy, to feel close to Charlie, looked at his own hands too, since that was where his friend's gaze lingered.
Charlie took the opportunity and looked back at the boy's face, adding:
"Your parents must be furious."
Knox laughed humorlessly.
"They are. It doesn't matter much."
"It used to matter a lot."
"I think I'm more afraid of what's inside me than of my parents... You were right, Charlie."
"Right about what?"
"Right about what?" Knox asked, puzzled.
Charlie could have said that he was always right and that he had never been wrong in his life, but now it was different. He was serious and wanted to understand what was going on in his troubled mind.
"Right about me. About my feelings and about the mistakes I made.
You had me go from what I thought was smart and careful to seriously slipping out of control.
And that's why I wanted to hate you, but I can't. I really can't."
"I'm sorry."
This was probably the first time he had heard Charlie say that sincerely, without any hint of irony.
"I'm really sorry, Knox. I could have been more subtle."
"That's who you are, Charlie. You weren't born to be subtle, and you shouldn't force yourself to be something you're not... That's what I've been doing, and it doesn't end well, you know."
"You talk as if I weren't a coward too."
Nuwanda himself said sadly. The man who would rectify his own name and renounce who he once was for the sake of his personal growth.
"You are the bravest person I know."
"If I were so brave, I would have come after you from the beginning. If I were so brave, that day in the cave, I would have hugged you and said it was okay, that deep down, we're alike."
"Are you saying we just pretend in different ways?"
"I'm saying that when it comes to you, it's like I can't even think. I can't even move."
"That's how I've been feeling for a long time, about everything."
Knox said as Charlie looked away to light another cigarette, offering one to his friend beside him, who refused.
"All I want is to want nothing."
Knox said, looking towards nowhere.
"Wanting me is a curse, isn't it?"
Charlie laughed, showing his teeth, as if he wanted it to be a joke. But they had left the humor somewhere in the past, where feelings had been cauterized and hidden for a long time.
"It just doesn't make no sense. Why can't it work out in my head? Why can't I be happy? There are definitely reasons I should be."
Knox could cry now if he had the energy.
"Reasons like Chris?"
"Yeah but, in the end, the actual reason is you."
Charlie's eyes widened slightly. Knox continued.
"As miserable as I may seem right now, this is the happiest moment I've had in the last few months. You're the last vestige of truth there is for me to believe. There's so much I should have told you, I should have asked you for help, and now I want to talk about everything I haven't told you lately.
Let's talk about the torn-up skin on my fingers right where it meets my fingernails.
Let's talk about what you call smart and careful, is seriously slipping out of control."
Charlie felt his chest sink, his heart beat faster. For the first time, he felt swept away. For the first time, Knox was honest with himself and with him.
He dropped his cigarette on the damp grass and brought his hands to the bruised face of the guy who was emotionally undressing beside him.
"Your idea of control is being unhappy forever? Knoxious, come on..."
Charlie said in a gentle tone, free of any aggression or haste.
Knox touched the hands resting on his face and closed his eyes for a moment. Charlie simply admired his tired, wounded, yet more beautiful face than ever before. His sincerity made him more human than he had ever been.
Knox opened his eyes and said,
"I'm gonna have to learn that this love will never be convenient."
"Knox..."
"I don't know what to do."
"I don't know what you're willing to do for us, Knox. I don't know what you think control is, but I swear, convenient or not, my love for you would keep me alive forever. I don't need you to be perfect, I don't need you to lie or love me more than anything, I just need you to be mine.
You're all I want, I'll figure out the rest."
It was going to be hard.
They were going to suffer, they were going to fall together, but they were already falling in love, so they didn't need to get up all the way through. They didn't need lies, they didn't need to deny who they were.
It would hurt, it would take away many things. Burn many bridges.
But something about that challenge comforted Knox, and it wasn't just the opportunity to not have to fight to be perfect.
It was Charlie's love.
That was the only fight he wanted to fight.
The only person he wanted to bleed for.
The damp, heavy night was immortalized by the taste of tobacco mixing with alcohol and iron.
Another motivation to persevere in the face of adversity.
They would never be welcome, but when they were alone, the whole world became just the two of them.
That was enough for them.
Tears of joy ran out of their eyes.
Cold and eternal, like they were tatted.