Slapped by Reality (Venti Fanfiction)

Chapter 5

 Half awake, I hear the door creaking open. So I lazily sit up from my laying position and glance towards the sound.

I see Charlie, who's muttering something about my cart. He has the same dark brown hair as me, but his is curly and wild while mine is short and straight. Not to mention his slight beard. He's wearing a cream shirt, black pants, and brown leather belt and boots. His expression reads tired and annoyed as ever. Asking how his day is will result in disaster, probably.

'Selfish. Look at you, Maude. Judging again.'

I don't reply. Because it's right.

But even still, I hope it isn't. But do I really hope it isn't? Do I really not want to be selfish? Or am I just telling myself lies? Because if I am, I want that to change. Except, do I really want to change? Or am I lying to myself?

It always comes down to that. Comes down to, 'is it true, or am I lying to myself?' And every time it comes down to that, I don't know the answer. It's like everything's been turned upside down, I can't tell between right or wrong.

"Oh, you're awake? How are you?"

His voice still sounds intimidating, even after all these years. How long ago was when I met him? Ah, I was just four or five. His voice is deep, it rumbles like thunder. It seemed like he was always on the verge of yelling even if he was speaking calmly, quietly. But now, I'm older. It's been more than ten years. And because this morning especially, his voice isn't scary anymore. It's almost soothing.

"Better," I say. Charlie likes short, easy-to-understand answers. Sometimes I like them too. Sometimes needing to say every detail is frustrating.

Charlie grunts and pulls his boots off. I eye my shoes, which are still on and take them off as well.

"You don't need to take them off. You shouldn't, actually. The floors are disgusting. I take the boots off to wear these shoes, right here," he explains while pointing to a pair of dark leather shoes on the floor.

"Oh, okay." I slip my shoes right back on.

I stare at the letter on the coffee table from this morning while listening to him doing his shoe thing.

Then he walks over and sits next to me, propping his feet onto the table with a sigh. "So, how're you with the whole situation?"

Sometimes I forget that Charlie is actually my relative. That he loves my parents just as much as I do. I almost forgot until he brought this up. I'm sure he feels sad and scared just like me. Maybe a different sad and scared, but still sad and scared. Being next to him feels comforting. I haven't said too much, but it's like we can already see the mutual feeling, the mutual emotion. An invisible line, each end tied around our hearts.

"Horrible. But better than before."

"Mmm." Then a silence. I don't say anything because Charlie doesn't say anything first.

He speaks again. "You came way later than planned. Want to share?"

I've now found another thing I like about Charlie. He doesn't push me to say anything. If my parents or grandma found me this upset and late and tired, they would want all the details. Pry them right out of me. I know they do it because they love me, but sometimes it's too much. Then again, sometimes it's helpful. But sometimes it's really annoying. Sometimes the best way to cope is to keep it to yourself and let the sadness drain away itself.

I think Charlie understands that. Because right now, he's giving me a decision to share or not share. And I like how he uses the word 'share.' It's not me blurting everything out to him. It's me giving some of the experience to him. That's what it feels like to me.