Wouldn't Dream Of It

Chapter 27

A week had passed. A whole godamned seven days had passed since their encounter in the locker room and Charlie still wasn't talking to him. It wasn't that obvious looking away thing where you looked at a person and that person made a move of looking anywhere but back and would treat you like air or act like you were invisible.

But no, he was basically ignoring Jason's entire existence. He tried to pretend it didn't bother him but fucking hell man, it was maddening. Jason wanted to shake the man and demand him to talk to him, to smile at him. But he didn't. Jason seemed to do that a lot these days, want something but never actually try to get it.

He banged his head on the desk as he sat down in English lit, making Coach Langley give him a weird look. Jason gave him a thumbs up with a weak grin.

He knew staring was rude, but he couldn't help it when Charlie walked into the room and dropped down onto one of the desks. He was like a kid with a crush, fuck's sake. What was it about the man that pushed every single one of his buttons?

"Alright class, today we're going to be tackling a pretty deep topic", Langley leaned against the chair, his eyes roaming around the room, "Death"

"What about it, sir?", called somebody from the back.

"Well we've all experienced the death of someone close to us, and Henry Scott-Holland wrote a poem", the teacher pointed to the board, "A poem about death"

"And Laila, if you don't mind would you read the poem on page 69?"

A round of snickers filled the room and Jason mentally rolled his eyes. Laila's tiny voice filled the classroom and Jason listened.

Death is nothing at all.
It does not count.
I have only slipped away into the next room.
Nothing has happened.

Oh

Everything remains exactly as it was.
I am I, and you are you,
and the old life that we lived so fondly together is untouched, unchanged.
Whatever we were to each other, that we are still.

What the fuck

Call me by the old familiar name.
Speak of me in the easy way which you always used.
Put no difference into your tone.
Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow.

How can I? Jason thought, you're gone and I can't talk about you the same way

Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes that we enjoyed together.
Play, smile, think of me, pray for me.
Let my name be ever the household word that it always was.
Let it be spoken without an effort, without the ghost of a shadow upon it.

He did think of his dad, every damn day. Jesus Christ, he couldn't breathe. Jason grabbed the edge of his desk, trying to take in air as he felt his panic rise.

Life means all that it ever meant.
It is the same as it ever was.
There is absolute and unbroken continuity.
What is this death but a negligible accident?

Not an accident, shut up shut up shut up, fuck please shut up

Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight?
I am but waiting for you, for an interval,
somewhere very near,
just round the corner.

God, please

All is well.
Nothing is hurt; nothing is lost.
One brief moment and all will be as it was before.
How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting when we meet again!

Everything hurt, he was lost.

Jason couldn't move, couldn't breathe, he barely realized he was gripping the table so hard his knuckles were turning white.

"fuck", he stumbled out of his desk as a feeling of panic and pure fear swept through him making it impossible for him to focus on anything. He needed to leave, needed to be alone.

Why now, why him?

His brain barely registered the pain as he tripped on one of the desks, half falling out the classroom. Alone, alone, alone.

He needed to be alone.

Somehow, he ended up in the bathroom, grabbing the hard sink as the room spun around him. He could feel his body trembling, sweat cold against his skin and a blackness that was threatening to blind him. He blinked rapidly, trying to take in big gulps of air, almost crying in frustration when he couldn't.

Oh god

"Jay?", the word was whispered, calm as another wave of shivers shook his body. He could see Charlie from the mirror, but he couldn't see his face, he couldn't fucking focus.

A strong hand gripped his shoulder, slowly turning him towards a warm body. Startling blue eyes met his and hands cupped his cheek, tilting his face down.

"You're okay Jason, I want you to breathe for me", Charlie murmured to him, his voice soft yet determined, "Breathe with me, 1...2...3...4, yeah that's it, sweetheart"

Breathe, I can do that. I can do that.

He kept his gaze fixed on Charlie as his whole body still trembled but he was able to suck in a few deep breaths, the other man's voice and arms on his body comforting him.

They stood there wrapped up in each other, foreheads resting together until Jason was able to breathe on his own, was able to let go of that feeling of loss and fear. He slumped against Charlie and Charlie's arms immediately wrapped around him, pulling him close.

"You're okay, it's okay"

"Thank you", Jason whispered to him.

"Of course, I'm always here"

Jason almost cried, how could Charlie still be here, holding him, even after all the horrible shit Jason had said about him.

"I'm sorry", he blurted out, desperate, "Please, I am so fucking sorry, I didn't mean any of the shit I said", he grabbed Charlie hard when he tried to interrupt, "No listen to me, you're not clingy, you're perfect, so perfect and I need you, please don't let me go", Jason was half begging now and he didn't care that he was. This was Charlie, his Charlie.

Charlie pulled him into a tight hug until they were pressed hard against each other, "I know you didn't, I should've let you explain"

Relief, the overwhelming feeling of relief that swept through him made him sigh into the other man's neck. "fuck"

Charlie pulled back and looked up into his eyes before slanting their lips together. The kiss was salty from his tears but it felt like home.