Untouchable

A New Face

"I knew I did from that first moment we met. It was... Not love at first sight exactly, but - familiarity. Like: oh, hello, it's you. It's going to be you."

- Mhairi McFarlene - via 5000letters (via perfect)

"Charlie!!" 

Nobody has ever said my name like that since. That voice, holding memories and youth, pierces my heart and corrodes my thinking. Everything comes back to me in waves - the half-hearted hugs, childish hand-holding. Whether I like that or not isn't what is important. Even after time has passed; weeks, months, years, however long, I still feel the same way I did back then. The same way I felt through the white, fluorescent hallways, under the trees with the prickly leaves, up the brick steps, and back in that dimly lit auditorium. And every time a wave crashes onto my shores, I am slowly, but inevitably, transported back to that place where we first noticed each other.

"Who's that?" I asked Nia, one of my friends who decided to audition for the school musical with me. 

"That's Oli, he's like my brother's best friend. He's kinda zesty." She answered with a laugh. 

"Yeah, he does look kinda fruity," I said. 

In all truthfulness, I now realize that was my mistake. Calling someone 'zesty' does not, and I mean not, truly make them gay. I looked back at the boy wearing a white long-sleeved polo and gray khaki shorts. He was with his friend now, across the gymnasium, laughing and smiling. Thinking about it now, he was beautiful. He had a fair complexion and cheeks that became rosy when he ran about. His practically golden hair swooped into delicate curtains on either side of his face, and when he ran his hand through it, his locks of hair would fall perfectly onto his forehead and settle as if they didn't move at all. I don't understand what kind of magic that was. Somehow, I was lucky enough to experience that. I remember thinking, "Why did he always have to be so pretty?" Plus, he had these green or, I think, hazel eyes that felt like they were pulling me in. Even now, it makes me swoon; weak in the knees. Falling into your already-made bed, and the bed is cold, just how you like it. What brought him together, however, was his body. I won't try to even get into the details, but he was so freaking pretty I can't even comprehend it. He was a few inches shorter than me, had pretty hands, and I don't even know. Is it bad his body was pretty too? I was young and didn't even see him like that, but still, he was pretty like that. You would never catch me admitting that to anyone. I loved his hair the most, though. However, he was untouchable. He was two grades younger than me. In no way was it possible I could like someone younger, I thought. I didn't usually swing that low, yet the gap was only 18 months, like Nick and Charlie from Heartstopper. Ironically, Charlie is my name. Unlike Nick and Charlie from Heartstopper, I won't get to experience how Charlie felt pining over Nick, who liked him back. 

"Oli, come here!" Nia yelled, breaking me out of my trance. Shit, she must've seen me staring, my mind wouldn't sit still. I can't put a name to the feeling. My heart raced, time stopped, my breathing slowed, and there was a pang in my heart. Sometimes I'd even hallucinate things. In this case, when Oliver walked over, I saw flower petals and pink but also golden sunlight. Whatever that feeling was, it was bright and shining its warmth onto me. I couldn't breathe. 

"Nia, what?" He spoke. He spoke. His voice. His voice. That feeling was back. I felt numb and unable to breathe. When he was in front of me, it was a completely different experience. He had moles scattered on his face, ran down his neck, and went along his collarbones. His eyelashes fluttered when he blinked. Him up close is different from watching from afar as I've done with all my previous crushes. At the time, I thought it was going to be a "2-month crush" where you never talk to them and the feelings eventually fade away.  So I denied it when people asked if I felt anything for him. It wasn't like I could ever tell any of my crushes I liked them anyway. She told him something I didn't hear. I was much too consumed in my thoughts to know what she said. All I knew was that I was staring him down, and he was returning that stare.

"Charlie say hi!!" She said. How could I say hi, I thought.

"...Hi."  I laughed out of embarrassment. How could I let her watch as I stared him down? That was stupid. 

"Hi. Charlie, right?" He asked. He asked if that was my name. Is this a meet-cute out of those dumb, cheesy rom-coms? 

"Yeah. Oli?"

"Yup!"

His friend called for him, and I waved goodbye. I decided to watch him throughout the musical auditions. The auditions were for dance, so I got to see him run around. I was tired, but he wasn't. Did he have a battery pack on him or something, I joked. Either way, he still looked flawless. He barely sweats. Could I have just been jealous of him? That's probably what it was. He was pretty, I wasn't. He was white, I wasn't. He looked good in white, but I didn't. He was blond, and my hair was as black as night. That's why, for almost 10 months, I endured the pain. The pain of knowing I liked someone, but they didn't. Of course, he liked me, just not in the way I hoped or wanted him to. He liked girls, and I wasn't one. 

It was the end of auditions, and my mom picked me up. I remember going over everything that happened before I went to bed with a certain blond-haired boy's voice and eyes still lingering in my mind. Acquiescence took over. It filled my brain to the brim with the thought of Oliver, who may or may not have let me call him his nickname, which was very cute and fitting, and how he said my name. Charlie, Charlie, Charlie, Charlie. It was pretty, like him. He made my name sound pretty. I still reminisce about the sleepless nights I spent thinking about him and all the fake scenarios I had made up. They were beautiful, tragic, but beautiful. I keep every single one of them locked away in a chained box in the back of my mind. That's where they'll always be, and that's where they'll always stay. Because they were fake, only fragments of my childish imagination that I wished were real. Of course, I knew they were fraudulent. They had no purpose other than to fuel my hopes and dreams of the thing we call love. Or in my case, the infatuation that includes Oli. He haunted my dreams and slayed my demons at the same time. It scared me, how much I could like him. And I couldn't ever tell him I did, because, at the time of my thought process, I wasn't even sure. I knew I couldn't like him, and I most definitely shouldn't have, but I did. I contemplated for hours on end whether or not I truly did like him as I believed I did. I doubted, and doubted, and doubted, and it should've been enough to discourage my attraction towards him. But it wasn't. And I fell into a deeper hole than before. 

Feeling the tears well up in my eyes, I nuzzled my face into my pillow. I pretended it was him. Fortunately, that helped me sleep that night. I proceeded to do that every night because it was comfortable. It did not provide warmth, but it gave me security. I was happy, I think. Still, there was a deep feeling in my chest. It lessened as I closed to the conclusion of my senior year, but it was always there, lurking in the dark corners and hiding from any sort of light.  I missed him, but I didn't realize I could get closer. 

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