Darling boy

Chapter 11

Charlie woke up to find himself wrapped around Will, his head nestled against Will's chest, one arm slung over his waist. For a moment, he lay there, groggy and disoriented, his mind slowly catching up to the fact that he was cuddling with his bandmate. As soon as the realization hit, he flinched away, nearly tumbling off the bed.

"Whoa, easy there," Will said, a lazy grin spreading across his face as he caught Charlie's wrist to steady him. "Rough morning?"

Charlie groaned, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. "I hate mornings," he muttered, his voice thick with sleep. "And I hate you. Let go." He shot a half-hearted glare at Will, whose grin only widened.

"Aw, don't be like that," Will teased, propping himself up on one elbow. "You're kind of cute when you're grumpy."

Charlie's cheeks flushed, though he quickly covered it by rolling his eyes. "Yeah, well, you're kind of annoying all the time," he shot back, shoving Will's hand away. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and rubbed his face, trying to shake off the fog of sleep. It wasn't like he hadn't slept with bandmates before—well, not exactly like this—but waking up tangled in Will's arms had been a surprise. And not an entirely unwelcome one, to his own frustration.

Will chuckled and sat up, stretching his arms over his head. "So, what's the plan for the album?" he asked casually, as if last night hadn't happened at all.

Charlie blinked at him, then rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh... I think we should revisit a couple of tracks we scrapped," he said, falling easily into the topic of the band's upcoming album. They talked through song ideas and potential changes, the conversation flowing naturally, like two guys discussing work over coffee rather than two guys who had just been all over each other in the back of a car the night before.

After a quick breakfast of eggs and toast that Will threw together—while Charlie grumbled about the eggs being undercooked, just for the sake of complaining—they parted ways. Charlie left the penthouse feeling a little unsettled, as if something intangible had shifted between them, but he couldn't put his finger on what it was.

Back in his apartment, the emptiness hit him as soon as he stepped through the door. It wasn't anything new; his place was always quiet, filled with a kind of stillness that settled into his bones if he stayed still for too long. He dropped his keys on the counter and let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

Charlie made his way to the bedroom, opening the drawer beside his bed and pulling out a small bag of powder. He sniffed a line of crack, letting the familiar sharpness flood through him, followed by the dull, numbing buzz. Then he grabbed a can of iced black coffee from the fridge, sipping it absently as he wandered back to his room.

He stood there for a while, staring at the clutter of CDs scattered across the floor—Radiohead, Jeff Buckley, The Smiths. His gaze fell on the drawer next to his bed, where he kept some lube stashed away. He reached for it without really thinking, an old habit, and found himself lying back on the bed, giving in to the easy escape of pleasure. His mind drifted, unfocused, and afterward, he felt a rare moment of peace.

He cleaned up and changed into some comfortable clothes—sweatpants and a loose band tee—and picked up his guitar. He played through some of their songs, then let his fingers slide into the familiar chords of "Lucky" by Radiohead, his favorite song. The music filled the room, giving it a warmth that it rarely had on its own.

Later that evening, a message buzzed on his phone from the band's group chat. It was Will, announcing that they were going to have a pajama party with a ridiculous theme: everyone had to wear the most outrageous pajamas they could find.

Charlie stared at the screen, a small smirk curling his lips. He didn't really own pajamas, let alone ridiculous ones, but he wasn't going to be the one to back out of a challenge. He dug through his closet and found a black shirt that said "manslut" across the front and paired it with some sweatpants adorned with a Hello Kitty print. It was the closest he had to 'ridiculous.'