notwalking | DPS (DA PANS SOCIETY)

[Neil scoffs a little, but it's not so much unkind as it is resigned. He brings his own knee up, but keeps it there, resting an arm over it.]

Yeah. Harvard. That's ten more years away from the real world. You wouldn't want to follow me there.

So don't go.

[ Like it's really that easy. He knows it's not. But they're not talking logic right now. ]

Run away with me instead. To the real world.

[They're not talking logic right now, which means there's no reason argue that it could never be anything more than pie in the sky. Dreaming is okay sometimes. It's all some people have.]

Alright. Where are we going first? Make it somewhere far away - the trip's the best part.

[ Thank god, he goes with it. He usually does – the two of them can spin off wild adventures for a future that will never come for hours if they have the time to do so – but sometimes, Neil's in such a mood that he'll only bristle and shoot it down.

Not too rooted in reality, and not yet too seized with unsettling, unsustainable energy; it's his favorite way to see his best friend. Charlie grins at him, easy as ever. ]

The west coast. Keating's told me about San Francisco, the poets there. People start over there all the time. Why not us?

San Francisco. [Neil draws out the word, considering.]

My father never has anything nice to say about it. [A mischievous gleam in his eye, there.] It's perfect.

Tell me more. Keating's been there? What did he say?

[ Charlie squeezes his fingers around Neil's, pulls a thoughtful face. ]

I dunno if he's been there. It didn't sound like he had personal experience. But he knows all about the beat poets there. You know some guys got arrested for publishing and selling one of their books a couple years ago?

[ Charlie had, of course, immediately asked Keating where he could find a copy of said book. Certainly not in Welton's expansive library, nor in any of the community ones he could bike to. Keating promised to fish up a copy for him if he kept coming to their little discussions. It's an easy bargain, as far as Charlie's concerned. ]

Seems like a good place for people who don't fit in. Or don't want to fit in.

Is that you, Charlie? [Neil's voice is wrought with excitement.] You don't want to fit in?

I think I'm tired of it.

That's what Keating's trying to teach us about, right? Non-conformity?

[ Charlie lacks the precise language to explain to Neil that it's not that he doesn't want to fit in, it's that he doesn't. Can't. The idea of settling into the comfortable, pre-planned life that's been set out for him since he could walk and talk itches down deep to the marrow of his bones. It isn't him, and he only knows how to be him. Now more than ever, with Keating stoking the fire of his rebellious spirit, showing him that there is a whole world out there beyond what fathers and teachers want for them.

If it takes running away, then he'll run away. If he loses his parents, his money, so be it. There's no price too high for freedom. ]

Think about it. Really think about it, Neil. Never having to answer to anyone again. Don't you want that?

[Charlie is the type of person who can't be anyone but himself, and Neil is the type of person who's only himself last. That's how it feels, anyway. He's a great performer, spectacular at fitting in.

[But he wants freedom to. He wants it badly. He wants it so badly that he doesn't realize that's what he wants at all. He just wants.]

I do. [His eyes are out on the horizon suddenly, fingers intertwined with Charlie's, resting.] I think about it all the time.

[Quieter, maybe...just a bit tired:] All the time.

[ Charlie turns his eyes back out toward the sunset too, the last dying rays burning into the surface of the pond. ]

You think too much. In general.

[ Which does directly contradict him just telling Neil to really think about it, but– listen, he's here for a good time, not a logical time.

Neil's still holding his hand. They're still nestled close. Charlie decides to test his luck, reaches over with his free hand to brush fingertips over Neil's bicep, down to the crook of his elbow, down his forearm to wrist to where their hands are joined, then back up. A light touch, enough to raise gooseflesh, not something they normally do.

It'll kill him if Neil pulls away or tells him to back off, but it's fine. Charlie's lost this game before. You can't win if you don't play. ]

[Neil gets lost for just a moment, eyes on the flaming pond. There's a gentle touch to his arm, but for a second or two, he doesn't react. It seems to hit him all at once. He turns to Charlie, half-laughing, but it dies quickly when the hand slips further down his arm. His smile fades, but not into a frown. He looks a bit guileless, if anything, watching Charlie as his skin prickles.

[His lips start for "what" but he never says it; instead...]

Sorry, I...lost focus. For a second.

I guess you're right...

[ He's seen Neil lose focus like that countless times before. He's used to it. Waits it out. Watches his friend come back to himself, then come back to Charlie.

He meets that guileless look with a raised eyebrow, a quirk of his lips that's definitely more genuine smile than cocky smirk. ]

You still with me, slick?

[ His fingertips rest on Neil's upper arm, just above the inside of his elbow, gently circling. ]

[Neil's all too focused now - focused on Charlie. The touch is tender. Charlie's smile is...one only Neil really sees, he thinks. That makes his heart pound. He ends up letting out a laugh, nervous and a little too high-pitched. He clears his throat.]

I'm with you. Of course. Always.

[ Charlie's heart isn't exactly slow and steady at the moment either. Neil makes him crazy like no one else does; it's not like Charlie follows so readily after anyone else, after all. He's spent years at Neil's side, and he's only ever wanted to stay longer, be closer.

He's pushed little by little over time, testing what he could get away with between them, but this is by far the most he's tested Neil. The fact that he hasn't made an excuse to back away yet says a lot. His eyes are still on Charlie's, wide and wondering, trusting.

He thinks he can get away with more. ]

Close your eyes. You're still thinking too much.

[Neil does trust him. He trusts that he's thinking too much. It feels like he's thinking too much. What's the goal, then? Not to think of anything at all, maybe. Closing his eyes, it feels easy, all darkness and sensation. Think of nothing. Charlie will tell him what to do next. He waits to hear that voice (and, so, he isn't thinking of nothing - of course, he isn't thinking of nothing).]

[ And there it is. Neil closes his eyes.

Neil Perry sits next to him, the fading light of the sunset through the trees settled and shadowed in the planes of his face. Hair a little mussed like it always is at the end of a long day when he hasn't had time to neatly comb it. Dark lashes fanned out against high cheekbones, slightly parted lips.

It's the best chance Charlie will ever get. If Neil shoves him away, if they have to laugh it off and pretend it never happened, so be it. One perfect moment might be worth all that pain.

He doesn't let go of the hand held tightly in his own, even as he leans in close. His other hand drifts up Neil's arm, his shoulder, raises to hold his chin.

Charlie draws him in the rest of the way, that little distance still between them. Holds his face there, more tender than he's ever held anything in such rich, foolish hands, and lets their lips meet. Soft. Softer than he's kissed anyone else, guy or girl. No one else gets Charlie like this.

It's a kiss that could ever only be meant for Neil.

He'll only ever be meant for Neil. He's sure of it. ]

[It's Charlie.

[His hand is squeezed - it's Charlie. A finger tucked under his chin - why question it? Charlie. The scent of his breath gets closer - Charlie. Neil's face is held...

[This part happens slowly. Time crawls, that moment before their kiss. Neil feels his stomach drop like someone looking down at the street from a tall building. It's probably a joke. That's the thing. He doesn't like that. But it couldn't be that. It's Charlie. He holds him so tenderly...

[This part happens fast. They kiss. It isn't enough. Neil's heart leaps into his throat, his hand grips Charlie's, tight, his eyes have to squeeze to stay shut--

[Soft, soft, impossibly soft, because it's Charlie, and Neil knows Charlie, his gentleness...

[But then it's over. Neil doesn't want it to be over. Reality slips back in too fast. His eyes open. He stammers like an idiot, questions that don't make it past the first word - cuts himself off, laughing--

[Laughing. Grinning. He hangs his head and scratches at the back of his neck. Let Charlie speak first. Surely he'll have something to say. Give Neil a moment to let the world stop spinning.]

[ Neil doesn't pull away, doesn't shove him off. His lips move softly against Charlie's as the chill of autumn's dusk begins to edge into their bones. It's the greatest thing to happen in his young life, and it's over too soon.

His own eyes open to see Neil smiling– grinning, wide and toothy and infuriatingly charming. There's no shock, or rage, or hurt, or– whatever else Charlie's feared for so long that it now feels royally stupid. He feels himself grinning too, boyish and wild.

He lets the hand beneath Neil's chin fall down to rest against his shoulder. ]

Well? Did that do the trick, or are you still thinking?

[ He squeezes Neil's other hand, a single pulse to try to get his attention, his tone smug and playful all at once. ]

'Cause if at first you don't succeed...

[Attention grasped. Neil looks up at Charlie, grin smaller, but not unhappy, not uncertain - unsteady, maybe, but not in a bad way. He stares at Charlie for a good few seconds, trying to process his words. Once he finally does, he lets out a bright laugh, shaking his head.]

No. No, I'm not thinking anything at all. I don't want to start. Jesus...

[A sudden nervous tightness in his throat. He swallows it down, another laugh squeaking out. His smile fades into a bite to his lower lip. He squeezes Charlie's hand.]

That's alright? It is?

[ Jesus. The funniest thing about Neil, the thing that's tortured Charlie the most for years, is that he has no idea how he looks. He laughs, his eyes crinkle up, he bites his goddamn lip– he's beautiful.

Charlie's had eyes for many people throughout his young life. He's never thought one of them was beautiful.

Their clasped hands have been an anchor point, but he finally lets go now so he can turn more toward him, both of his hands over Neil's shoulders. They smooth over them, up to the sides of his neck and back down again. ]

It's alright with me. Is it alright with you?

[ Say yes. Let yourself want this one thing.

And then, inevitably, his own expression starts to creep into a smirk. ]

Try it again if you're not sure.

[When Charlie puts his hands on Neil's shoulders, it's easy to feel nervous - only for a moment, only because he hadn't at all expected to be kissed. He pulls his lips in, a funny sort of face that pulls back out into a laugh, a grin. He rolls his eyes just a bit, so terribly fond. His heart is in his throat.]

Yeah. I should. [He should. Charlie kissed Neil. Now Neil gets to kiss Charlie.

[He does, and it's a little quicker than the first one. Neil isn't satisfied with that, so he dips back in for another, just a little slower.

[His blood seems to ignite. It's an excitement he's yet to feel - alive, awake, inspiring. He doesn't know what it means, but maybe he doesn't want to. It could mean everything.]

Ha...[He closes his eyes. He's still smiling.]

Jesus, Charlie...You really think we could? No. We can. We have--

Yes. Yes, it's alright with me.

[A sudden worry, though, despite. His smile fades just a bit. He bites his lip again.]

Just between you and me. Right?

[ He figured Neil would pull away again, keep talking, keep questioning. All Charlie wants is for them to stay in this perfect moment, shrouded from the rest of the school, kissing until darkness falls around them.

But it's an important question.

Charlie drapes his arms over Neil's bony shoulders, clasps his hands loosely behind him so he's trapped in their loop. Looks at him in the eye for a moment, his own expression unreadable. He wants to remember this: How Neil looked when he was allowing himself to want something, to have something; to want Charlie, to have Charlie. ]

Yeah. Just between you and me.

[ It's serious, significant. This moment and any others like it are for no one but them.

Then he breaks that somber air with grin, eyebrows rising. ]

You really think I wanna deal with the rest of them knowing? They'd never shut up about it. It's hard enough to keep 'em in line.

['Just bewteen you and me,' - a promise, hanging their between them. Neil lets it settle over his heart. He trusts Charlie implicitly - more so than he does anyone else in the world, he thinks. And he knows that that trust is well-founded. No one else has to know, and--

[Neil laughs, bright and sudden, the sound bursting through the air around them. He feels joy - just what he's always chasing, so rarely finds in moments that aren't far too fleeting.]

They'd never. Shut up. [He laughs again, fond to death of his friends, fonder still of Charlie. He wants to kiss him again, but he waits only because he knows he'll be able to--

[He'll be able to...now. And tomorrow. Whenever he wants...

[His heart is in his throat again. When did his arms find their way around Charlie's middle? Just the same way Charlie has his looped around Neil's neck.]

Well, I think they'd be jealous. Personally. [A clear tease - he can't even begin to consider whether or not his friends have the same unconventional feelings that he has toward--

[Yes. Better not to think about it, really.

[He finds himself looking away again, between them, still smiling at the ground as he bites his lip.]

I like it better. This way.

Just between you and me.

[ He hears the tease in Neil's words, knows they're not sincere at all, but he can't help but scoff. Neil's one of the biggest brains he knows, and he's a real idiot sometime. Some of them really would be jealous, but not of Neil.

It's a fierce satisfaction that runs through his veins. Of all the people who could have gotten Neil Perry, it was him.

It's just between them.

Charlie scrubs an affectionate hand through Neil's hair, messing up that perfect schoolboy cut and grinning at him, wide and wild. ]

We're gonna have to find more hiding places.

[ Some hopefully even more private than this. ]

Come on. It's getting dark.

[ Hager will check on their common room before bed, and Charlie doesn't really give a shit about demerits, but he's got to spend at least a little while convincing Neil that this little affair won't reflect badly on his pristine Welton record.

He stands, a hand extended to haul Neil up too, right into his arms for one last embrace. ]

Edited (when da subject line gets eated...) 2024-11-16 08:15 (UTC)

DPS (DA PANS SOCIETY)

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"hooray he's at baseline!"

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OH KILLING U FOR THIS THE WAY I AM KILLING U

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we can probably move toward a wrap OUGHHH

godddddddDDDDDDDDD SEE YOU IN JANUARY