When Phil gets up, tired of monosyllabic opinions, Charlesbarely has time to refill his constricted chest before Elsy slumps against him. She pulls the TV remote out of her dress, slides it hidden behind his back, then raises her phone.
‘Look.’
18:21 HRH CATRIONAIn my study? Really, Elsy?
18:21 HRH CATRIONACharles’ hair needs a trim.
Horrified, Charles shoves the phone next to the remote.
Elsy laughs, stroking the nape of his neck. ‘She’s right.’
‘Well, I’m not going to the barber until I forget that text exists. Until I forget Catriona exists.’
‘You’re losing the energy.’
‘The exhibitionist side of it? Yes. It will never happen again.’
‘We’ll see about that when I put my finger on what triggered you.’
‘Nothing triggered me… As I said, it had been too long.’
‘Indeed.’
Elsy nestles closer and Charles shuts his eyes, shaken to the core by how much he wishes her touch on his neck felt different.
He wasn’t seeking intimacy with Elsy because, lately, he’s only been longing for high-inducing massages and craving after honey-scented hair to bury his face into. Because the smile scrambling the concepts of time and space was framed by a stubbly sharp jawline. Because he was lulled to sleep by the echoes of a deep and accented voice.
For weeks, his brain did a fine job at disguising this fixation as a consequence of his new-found lucidity and the emotional impacts he was adjusting to. But the costume no longer fits now that his body has taken over.
And it doesn’t matter whether or not Charles was attracted to Loris from the start. He was when he kissed him, he is tonight and he will be the next time they meet.
Some of the tears thickening behind his eyelids arise from this terrifying reality. But most of them are due to the intuitive certainty that such reality comes at much too great a cost to consider tackling his bully over it.
‘Are you sleeping?’
‘Short power nap…’
‘I’ll go hide the remote in the safe. But what if Hannah can hack the safe from her phone? Or using the microwave panel? Damn it. I’ll just get her drunk!’
Elsy stands up, and Charles wedges his bottle between his thighs to fold his arms in front of his face. To dry with his sleeve the distress he might fail to contain.
***
Charles has never been great at basketball, and it didn’t help the accuracy of his pill throws that all the tears he held back at Elsy’s broke free as soon as he sat against his bathroom door. So on balance, he did well, only missing the toilet bowl six times.
He gathers up the loose pills on the tiled floor, chucks them into the water with the rest of Spencer’s stash and hastens to flush. He can’t wait and risk being tempted to swallow one.
Back in his room, he sits on the edge of his bed and unlocks his phone. He can’t afford to wait for this either. He’s already tempted to rethink the answer he came up with, one throw at a time.
He clears the pain from his throat and slides up the voice note key in his chat with Loris.
‘Hi… I’m sorry for replying so late, and I’m sorry for not having the balls to face you. I… I just can’t. So… yes, I recall what happened and my analysis is… I wanted to kiss you when I kissed you, but in general I don’t.I’m not into guys, I don’t— I’m not interested in you that way. And I don’t know if I sent mixed signals before, and even if I didn’t, this one was confusing enough on its own… It’d be normal for you to get the wrong idea, but I don’t want you to— Especially if you’re into me and— But I’m not saying you are! I don’t know, but if— Shit, I’m sorry… This is terrible. It all sounded better in my head, and that says something because nothing ever sounds good in my head… So all this to… apologise for acting on a brief moment of confusion. And I apologise for the way I reacted and… and then worried you. You didn’t deserve that. You mean a lot to me and I’m grateful that I met you when I did. I needed you and— The moments we shared, I needed that, but I’ve been too distracted lately and it’s been affecting some… It’s not good and I believe it’s best if we don’t see each other for— If we… If we don’t anymore. It’s just better for me… I’m sorry about your drawings. I hope you can finish them without me, but you might not want to after this… And I kept your polo shirt, I’ll have it sent to you. And… It’s a long shitty mess of an answer, and it’s probably hurtful, so I’m sorry that you met me when you did, and that you had to deal with all my crap… I’m just… so fucking sorry.’
Charles pinches his lips to push back a sob, sends the voice note and sinks a thorn into his chest.
He tosses the phone aside and gropes his way to his desk. He grabs a pair of scissors and his notebook, and starts cutting its pages above his bin. The pages covered in half-baked ideas for a novel he won’t write and the pages filled with far-fetched theories about a brother who never existed. Charles shreds them all to pieces, nicking the skin of his forefinger in the process, and once there’s none left, he drops the cover of the notebook on top of the dangerous ravings he should have never indulged in.
After a quick shower, he goes back to his phone and trips mentally.
