A Likely Story

8. closed tear

*Warning: SPOILER ALERT- if you're reading The Fault In Our Stars or Harry Potter, finish reading them and then read this chapter!*

We were sitting inside the book maze, in a corner that the late summer sun had decided to grace with its presence, concentrated into a puddle of light that ensconced us in its warmth. I was resting against the T's, with my head against a fat copy of Anna Karenina that was slotted into the bookshelf behind me, and Charlie was next to me with his back against a scatter of U's. There was a packet of Jaffa cakes next to us; Charlie had gone out to get them after we had realised that they contained both chocolate and oranges.

Then the silence was broken. “No!”

I glanced up to see Charlie looking down at the book in his hands with a pained expression. “Hedwig's dead,” he said dramatically, turning the page as if it was too painful to dwell on for long.

“Oh get over it,” I said unsympathetically, biting in a Jaffa cake and yawning. “I swear you've read that before anyway.”

He flicked to the next page dramatically without looking up. “I have, but only heartless people like you get over things like that.”

“And yet you're perfectly fine with the concept of Augustus Waters dying,” I retorted.

“He's not real! No real boy talks like him!” He looked at me, his expression exasperated. “We've had this conversation! Also,” he added diplomatically, “I never said I was perfectly fine with it. No one can read that book without at least one closing.” I grinned: we'd had a conversation recently where we had christened the moment where you reach a scene in a book that is far too taxing on your emotions and you have to slam the book shut for a few seconds.

In response I slid down to the floor and put the book I'd been holding over my face, inhaling the rich scent of old pages. He tapped his fingers on the cover, and the sound expanded a little inside my book house as I stared at the words blurred with closeness.

“Is that any good?” he asked. I spoke from inside the book.

“So far it's about a girl called Maggie Tulliver who is much cleverer than the idiotic males around her.” I lifted the book a little without bothering to get up and peeked out of the top so that I could see him. “I can relate.” He hit me lightly on the head with Harry Potter and The Deathly Hallows, and I grinned, noticing that his thumb was in between the pages again, marking his spot.

I opened my book again, and he went back to flipping through his. I knew he was finding all his favourite parts, something I did often with books I'd read before. He caught me looking at him and gave me a lazy half smile.

“Ron's just come back after being a bit of a twat,” he informed me.

“I hate that bit,” I said. “No, actually I hate the part before he leaves, when they're all getting irritated with each other and you can just tell something bad's going to happen.”

“When he comes back though,” Charlie said, his face lighting up. “That is some good realistic writing.”

I laughed. “Is that all you can think about?”

“It's important, making things realistic. There's no point in deluding yourself with fantasy,” he said seriously.

“You know what's unrealistic?” I said thoughtfully, biting my thumbnail. “The fact that they all stayed such good friends. None of them felt like they had to be mean to fit in, or... I don't know.”

He was silent, tapping the corner of the book in his hand on the floor.

“Like, the bad guy was obviously Malfoy with his bad friends. There was never any question of whether Harry's friends were bad for him or not, they were just automatically good, and they stayed friends because they were all meant to be friends.”

I wanted to stop, but I felt the urge to keep talking, to try and get him to understand. “It's almost like J.K Rowling made it so that the good people found good people, and the bad people found bad people.”

“Which is just so unrealistic,” I continued, “because sometimes people who desperately want to be good end up with people who make them feel as if they're going bad inside.”

There was a small silence. Then Charlie spoke, drawing a circle on the floor with his finger.

“Do you feel like you're going bad inside?” he said quietly.

I pulled my legs towards my chest, wrapping my arms around them and resting my chin on my knees. “Sometimes.” I felt the need to elaborate. “Sometimes I wish I could just know that I'm a bad person and hate myself completely and get it over with, but there are times when I wonder if I'm not. But then I realise that I am, and I guess... I guess it's the realising bit that's awful.”

There was another silence in which I wished I hadn't said any of it. I looked at my feet, feeling my cheeks heat up. “I don't know why I just told you that,” I said uncomfortably.

“Truly bad people are very rare,” he said, ignoring my last sentence. “And even then, they're not completely bad. Hitler wasn't bad. He had a very bad idea, and a very twisted view of how things should be, but he wasn't bad.”

He stopped, and I leaned my head against the bookshelf behind me, thinking. Then I heard him exhale sharply.

“And you, God-” he said suddenly, turning to me. “You're not bad, Lula. Not even a little bit.” He looked at me, his expression almost angry. “You're smart and funny, not to mention-” he coughed, his cheeks reddening and turning an endearing shade of pink, “not to mention you read a lot,” he amended. “And you need to know all that, because right now I think I like you more than you like yourself.” He paused, and ran his hand across his cheek nervously. “I think I like you more than I've ever liked anyone before.”

There was a moment of silence. My heart felt like it was beating in my mouth, and I shivered, feeling like I'd just been thrown out of a warm house into a snowstorm where I couldn't see what was happening. “Charlie...”

He laughed in embarrassment, reaching up to touch his cheek, and I'd never seen him look so flustered or vulnerable before. “Sorry, that was stupid of me,” he said, standing up abruptly like he couldn't bear to be next to me for even another second.

Without even realising it, I found myself grabbing for his wrist like a life saver and pulling myself up to look into his eyes the colour of caramel and clouds.

There was a silence as we looked at each other, mere inches apart. The sound of our breathing seemed to be intensified in the room that felt like it was getting smaller and smaller.

“Me too,” I said quietly, and the fear came through in my voice with a waver.

Then he stepped forward and his lips brushed gently against mine. I felt a shiver pass through my body.

He pulled away and looked at me questioningly and my heartbeat felt like it governed my body, beating intrusively into every single little crevice and corner. I felt my eyes roam over his face, the face that gave my heart a migraine.

“You do have a cute bum,” I admitted, and he was laughing as he leaned down and pulled me towards him, kissing me again. I tasted chocolate and oranges and smiled.

His lips were warm and urgent against mine, and I breathed in the scent of oranges and soap that felt more comforting and familiar than anything, ever. I pushed myself up onto my tiptoes and wrapped my arms around his waist as his fingers entangled themselves in my hair and I felt like I was about to explode.

We surfaced for air and my lips felt like they were on fire. I'd never felt like that with Matt or anyone, and it was scary. His expression was hazy with happiness. “Lula, I really do like you...” he murmured as our lips crashed together again and we clutched each other, surrounded by bookshelves and sunlight as I kicked the frightened feeling away.

Author's note:

Oooh Charlieeee! It actually took me much longer than I expected to write this chapter- it was so hard to write! :O I've just been given a huge thing of Jaffa cakes for my birthday so I had to include them somewhere in this chapter :) I really hope you guys appreciate my efforts haha :) Thank you all so much for reading, you are all amazing. Hope you liked this chapter! xxx