‘That’s when my pen became my best ally to cope with the lack of bearings. To cope with the increasing pressure at home as well. Every week, my parents found a new way to phrase that I was the only hope for their name to keep on shining. Meanwhile, my grandfather waslamenting that I would have to do, since their best option had—’
‘What the fuck?’
Loris slams his pencil onto the desk with an appalled expression very similar to George’s when he thinks about the Ledwells. Except in Loris’ case, it’s abnormally arousing, so Charles decides to keep the detailed portrait of his family for another day – when he will be in better shape and able to grind his anger against Loris’ body.
‘Please make a note of this energy, for later. So… That was a lot already, but what fucked me up, and I’m only grasping it now, is that… I met new people at uni, and naturally we broached personal topics. I mentioned Fred, because erasing him didn’t feel right. And reflexively, I talked about Fred the brilliant lawyer-to-be, dating a car company heiress, destined to perpetuate the Ledwell glory if tragedy hadn’t struck. That Fred. The myth. I just blurted it out. But then I would hear myself, like when you’re on the phone and there’s an echo. My words would hit me back and… it was so confusing. I was second-guessing myself with no idea why I was second-guessing myself. And if I tried to unravel the sensation, my brain would split in half, it was… It was awful.’
Charles drops the pastels. He presses his fingertips against the black area of the drawing for a few seconds, then brushes its brighter parts.
‘It was awful, and thinking of Fred became a waking nightmare. Up until then, I enjoyed reminiscing about childhood memories, when he still fit all narratives. But from then on, even those perturbed me, because they highlighted that I didn’t have any clear memories from later on. That Fred either felt like a stranger or a product of my imagination. Something was off. Something was wrong with me, but I never told anyone. I was ashamed. I couldn’t admit to erasing my brother. So I buried those feelings, where they festered, and… I went real messy, real fast. I would go from sleepwalking through weeks at a time to suddenly being affected by absolutely everything…’
Charles runs his palms across the sheet. The easel wobbles, so he catches its support arm, but the pastels left in the open drawer tumble onto the floor.
‘Shit.’
‘It’s okay if you damage and replace it. I’d love a proper drawing board.’
Charles crouches and groans when the muscles of his thighs rebel against this sudden effort. He puts the pastels back into the box and remembers that he’s not wearing his own sweatpants just in time before wiping his fingers on the cotton. Stretching his back, he slogs towards the kitchenette to wash his hands in the sink.
When he turns around and leans against the worktop, Loris shifts his chair to face him. His caring attentiveness brings Charles back to the afternoon he opened up to him for the first time, with a guarded confession about his pen.
‘I’ve been using the past tense, but that’s more or less where I was stuck when we met. And the plan was to never tell you about Fred. I was back to not mentioning him, to avoid feeling insane. Besides, I didn’t want you to know how messed up I was. I wasn’t aware that you’re a weirdo who gets artistically turned on when I’m at my worst.’
‘That’d make another interesting Instagram biography.’
Charles smiles and folds his arms that grow heavier by the minute. ‘The night Patty came to the pub to collect some keys, she triggered a memory of Fred. An old one, but it involved his shenanigans and his secret girlfriend, meaning the part of him I had blotted out. So it brought that version of Fred back to life. It unlocked something. And in the following weeks, it felt safe to dig deeper. Thanks to you.’
‘Because I had no preconceived opinion?’
‘Yes, that too, which is why I lost the plot when you googled my family. Butmostly, it felt safe because that you kept Charland busy.’ Charles sinks his fingers into his sore neck. ‘You left very little room for my good old hindering crap to do its hindering thing. But after we kissed, it made a spectacular comeback, and I completely backtracked regarding Fred. Until I went to the pub to find you, but I found Patty instead.’ He hunches and rolls his shoulders. ‘Did she tell you about that?’
‘She said it wasn’t her story to share and— Wait. Stop those blunt moves.’ Loris gets up and outstretches his arm towards him. ‘You’re gonna make it worse. Let me.’
‘I can’t handle a torture session right now.’
Loris sits on the bed. ‘I’m gonna be gentle.’
Resting between his legs will likely impact the precision of Charles’ story, but some temptations aren’t meant to be resisted. He takes off the jumper and hastens to tuck himself against Loris’ hoodie.
‘Terrific plan…’
Loris wraps his arms around Charles to hold him close, in what feels like a reaction hug to everything he’s heard so far. Charles squeezes his wrists to reassure him. Going through the past seven years wasn’t the ordeal he feared. Now that his pain has been heard and accepted for what it was, it’s behaving inside his chest.
‘So, Patty…’ Charles says, wary that the comfort of the moment might lull him to sleep.
Loris releases his grip and pushes him into a straighter posture. Charles protests at first but admits that it’s a blessing in disguise as soon as Loris begins tracing patterns on his bare shoulders.
Staring at the window that now reflects the warm atmosphere of the flat, Charles recounts his interaction with Patty and how her revelations shed a steadfast light on who Fred was.
‘I’ve seen it. The mess of paint Fred left on a wall in Patty’s livingroom. It looks great inside that frame she chose.’
Charles tilts his head to invite Loris’ hand to move to his neck. ‘I’d like to see it too.’
‘Ask her. Patty adores you. Just yesterday, she was telling me to take good care of you. And it sounded like a warning that if I don’t, I’m gonna find myself jobless, homeless and headless.’
‘I’ll wait until Liv is back in London. It’s important that we go there together, because… I’ll tell you about my conversation with Liv now. But it might be… I… I’ve processed it, but it’ll never be alright.’
Loris has already pulled him back closer and murmurs, ‘I’ve got you,’ like he promised in the park. Charles curls up sideways between his arms, absolutely trusting that Loris does.
