Charlie isn't sure why he's even agreed to come to a party.
Well he does know. Eliza insisted and Charlie's never been too good at saying no. And so even though the bruises on his face still linger and the bruises on his heart are still fresh he's agreed to come along. Because Eliza's puppy dog eyes are almost, almost, as good as Finn's.
Finn did have the advantage of being undeniably handsome as well admittedly.
But Charlie's clasping a bottle of cider in his hands and wallowing instead of enjoying himself. He's doing the same thing he's been doing for the past few days, thinking about all the times he did things like this with Finn. All the times they stood at parties with their backs pressed against the wall, sharing secret smiles and drunken kisses.
Now the alcohol isn't helping raise Charlie's spirits like it usually would but instead is just serving to make him feel worse.
Charlie doesn't even know why Eliza wanted him here, she disappeared off less than half an hour into the evening with a simple call of 'I'll be back later' and that was an hour ago and Charlie hasn't seen her since. He just wants some company, to look less like a loner and more like someone who's actually enjoying themselves.
He wishes he was more outgoing, more like Finn. The sort of person who could strike up a conversation with a random stranger and be best friends with them by the end of the night. But he's not that person, and so he keeps to himself – like he always does – and thinks of Finn – like he always does.
Speak of the devil and he shall appear. And Finn does, in black skinny jeans and a tight black top, smiling the way Charlie thought was reserved just for him.
He imagines it playing out the way Eliza no doubt intended – because he's pretty sure he knows why she was insistent on him coming to the party now. He imagines catching Finn's eye across the room and offering him a small smile. That maybe Finn would have just the right amount of alcohol in him to be tipsy enough to think that Charlie was worth talking to. That maybe the two of them could fix things in a secluded corner of the party and everything might just work out okay.
It's not going to work out that way though.
Because Finn is swaying as he walks, clearly already drunk judging just by the way he slurs his words. He's trying to whisper into the ear of the person next to him, a boy with bone straight black hair and a lip ring, who could not look any less like Charlie if he tried.
Charlie watches on as Finn wraps an arm around the boy's waist to pull him closer and he tries to push down the jealousy rising inside him. Finn deserves to be happy, and if hooking up with random boys at stupid parties makes him feel that way then who is Charlie to deny him that pleasure.
But it hurts, like shards of glass are lodged in his lungs, digging every time he breathes and he feels breathless and dizzy and like he's in some strange sort of parallel universe where things have been flipped upside down.
Charlie has – without realising it – become sort of dependent on being the only person that Finn wants. He's become used to Finn's smile being reserved him and become used to Finn looking at him like he's the only other person in the room. And now Finn is refusing to even meet his eye and he's smiling at the boy next to him like he's the only ray of sunshine in a room of gloom and Charlie can't take it.
He's drowning and fuck, why can't he breathe? Why does he have to feel that way? Why can't his heart just give up? Realise that a boy like him isn't made to love, but to destroy instead. Made to ruin both himself and any chance at a happy ever after. Charlie wants to give up on hope and his foolish heart but he just can't, in the same way he can't stop the way his heart is beating erratically and the way that just looking at Finn makes everything seem a little bit better, smoothes out the bad parts so Charlie can pretend that everything is okay.
