Everything's fucked up. Everything's so fucked up and Charlie can't even got to Aly's, because if everything's so fucked up with Edmund and Luna, there's every chance that everything's screwed up with Aly, too, and he's not sure that he can take it ( Read more... )

Okay, so he's been kind of planning this for about a week at this point. He's seventeen, so he thinks about sex a lot, but this week's been kind of ridiculous, since they haven't really done it since he got sick ( Read more... )

Charlie's not sure he's ever felt this sick. It's been days and he's still getting new blisters, and his head's swimming, and he's having a hard time swallow. At least the puking's stopped. He's alternately hot and cold, kicking the sheets off as quickly as Edmund can pull them back up over him. He's trying not to scratch because he's a grown- ( Read more... )

Narnia. Fucking Narnia. It's been most of a day and Charlie sort of feels like he's getting the hang of it. Edmund's disappeared off to God-knows-where again, leaving Charlie to sort of cool his heels on his own, but he's found fruit trees and apples and the talking animals sort of make sure that he's not wanting for something (there's something ( Read more... )

At home, Charlie had tried to stay occupied. He'd read a little, written a little, played cards with himself. He'd gone for a swim in the waterfall pool and all of it waiting for Edmund. In the end, he ends up lying on his bed and dozing flitfully, even if he has just been asleep for a few days. What he's realising is that he doesn't sleep that ( Read more... )

This is not the first time he's drunk wine. He keeps telling himself that ( Read more... )

"You should," Edmund said, following after Charlie. This time when he pushed him it was back onto the bed, Edmund leaning over him, braced up by his arms. His knees hit the edge of the bed between Charlie's thighs, but he didn't climb up just yet.

"You going to make me listen to your African drums now?"Lying flat on his back, Charlie looks up at ( Read more... )

Enough is enough.

It's been nine days, a week and a half, and Charlie's had enough of feeling like an asshole. Both Neil and Juno spoke a lot of sense and, if he was honest with himself, they had only been telling him what he'd decided for himself. Whatever had happened, it wasn't the worst thing that could have happened, and nothing was ever ( Read more... )

Some days are better than others.

Charlie still feels like a monumental fuck up, but he's not letting it get to him. He's got a hut now, which is pretty sweet, even though there's not a lot of him in there, yet. It's not like he's got a lot of stuff, although he has pinned the photograph of him and his Mom to the wall where he can see it when he ( Read more... )

For the second night, Charlie can't really sleep. It's not that he's not sleeping; he spent a couple of hours dozing on a sofa in the rec-room earlier in the day, but night comes and, suddenly, he's wide awake because, every time he closes his eyes, all he can see is Edmund's mouth and the way his hair slips into his eyes. For a while, in fading ( Read more... )