Silas and Charlie

d a y - t e n

THE :

END OF

ELUDING

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"I am the beginning, and end of my own destiny, my fate is mine, and mine alone. I will not let others run my life for me." - Silas Blue

Mariah looks up at Charlie, smiling and yet somehow managing to look like he'd just slapped her in the face. Charlie's insides feel twisted, mangled and incoherent - for a single second, he wishes she were more like Silas, how he could always tell what she was feeling, which was usually anger or even spite. But he banishes the foolish thought and manages to fake a smile of his own on, his mouth spreading too thin across his face; flat and insincere. But he asks the question anyway, only because it begged an answer.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

She doesn't respond right away, instead allowing time for her to bite her lip and look down at the floor. "Nothing, I just was kind of excited about our date last night." Charlie rubs the nape of his neck nervously, fingers threading in and out of tense muscles; buying himself time, with his mind still sorting out the details of yesterday. Trying to figure out what every little action meant, between shards of moonlight the memories seemed perpetual. Silas' hand on the steering wheel and his feet up on the dashboard, not caring where they were going or why their hearts beat in time.

Charlie was stuck deep in the sea of something he didn't know how to explain in any word, or shape or expression - an epiphany in it's finest form. Although it wasn't easy for him to admit, that he had completely forgotten about cancelling on Mariah, all the left over adrenalin had seemingly robbed him of all rationality.

"I'm sorry, something really unexpected came up. Forgive me?" Something tugs in Charlie's chest and he fights back a grimace, he knew he wasn't sorry in the least, and Charlie Lewis didn't lie.

Mariah looks up, and she nods slightly, "there's nothing to forgive." He chuckles, brushing a stray piece of hair out of her face, and then lightly kissing her forehead. She genuinely grins, wishing she never had to leave the locker bay, but the bell was scheduled to ring in about two minutes and apparently she had farther to go than Charlie did.

"Text me later?" She suggests teasingly, and he nods whilst simpering, "of course." Mariah beams, "great," she says, and begins to walk backwards, keeping her gaze on a smiling Charlie as long as possible - trying to stretch out her time before the bell rings and she's counted tardy. Charlie watches her retreating form, feeling strangely listless, and . . . bored somehow.

He growls in confusion, clenching his teeth and yelling at himself silently for being so, confusing. Just a few days ago, he was almost absolutely infatuated with that girl, counting up all of the little details that he noticed about her, how her nose wrinkled when she laughed, all of those perfect little moments.

And now she was like an old story told ten times over, Mariah had suddenly become uninteresting, unimportant even, because in every aspect of her she was composed of a same-ness, a winner of the genetic lottery not just in looks but in temperament.

The same factor that had rendered her predictable, calm, composed, beautiful and utterly flawless. God knows Charlie should've wanted that - but he didn't. He was just fumbling through the grey spaces in his heart; knowing where he could find the bright pigments of color - he knew who possessed them, and he knew she was in his next class.

The blue-black haired catalyst who he had spent so much time with last night that he'd returned home last night at three in the morning, and had been forced to sneak into the upstairs window by climbing the old oak tree and almost killing himself multiple times. But he didn't care, because she was beautiful, and he was infatuated - barely able to form a coherent thought.