rambles and shambles

charlie & bambi [pt.1]

Charlie hated the creaking sound of the children's swing set. It scratched against his eardrums, pierced the quiet of his thoughts. He didn't know what to think. There was so much to think about but he couldn't put it into words, not even in his own mind. So he just sat there, in a stunned sort of silence, his thoughts filled of trivial things. The elephant in the room begged to come to the surface, but he pushed it back down. He didn't know what to think about it all.

Feet dragging in the gravel, he gently swayed back and forth on the swing. The children's playground was empty at this time of night - of course it was, his phone had read just before midnight last time he'd checked. Charlie didn't know how long ago that was. The cold bit at his exposed skin, but he didn't bother zipping up his jacket. The cold kept him awake. The cold kept his mind alert.

He tried to focus on pushing his feet into the same bit of gravel every time his feet reached it, he tried to keep his mind on that one, simple thing. Tried to think about the dirt on his shoelaces and not the scars on his arm. He tried to focus on the sounds around him - on the wind absently rustling the trees instead of scars in his mind. Instead of the memories replaying over and over in his head. But he couldn't even do that. Tears threatened his eyes and he tried to blink them away. Real men don't cry.

Real men don't think about men like he did.

The squeaky sound of the gate behind him made him jump. He tried to wipe away his tears but they kept on coming. Shit.

"Hello?"

A deep, musky voice he couldn't place called out across the playground. Charlie didn't reply, not trusting his voice not to give away his tears.

"You alright, mate?" The voice called again, this time accompanied by hesitant footsteps.

Charlie took a deep breath and said, "I'm fine - perfect actually. I love sitting and crying on my own in a fucking kid's park in the middle of the night. Favourite pastime of mine, honestly."

The footsteps halted, only slightly, but Charlie noticed. Charlie also noticed the sharp intake of breath but no words followed. Good, he'd left them speechless.

"I-" The voice replied, this time sounding a lot closer, "Saw you from my window, just thought you'd might like some company or somethin'"

Charlie stopped the swing with his feet and buried his face in his hands. He felt a strong hand rest on his shoulder and he tried not to flinch away. If his dad saw this, there would be no escaping him this time.

"What are you doing?" He asked, voice muffled by his hands. The stranger removed their hand but only to go and crouch in front of the crying boy. He then placed his hands on the boys arms an-

"Fuck!"

Charlie snatched his arms away as soon as the strong, muscular hands wrapped themselves around his fresh scars.

"Holy- so sorry, I didn' mean to!" The dark haired stranger in front of him exclaimed, jumping back from the shaking boy in front of him.

Charlie couldn't stop the tears now, his wrists throbbed with pain and he was shocked at the sudden touch. He jumped up from the swing and tried to walk away but the stranger wouldn't let him leave like that. He slowly turned to face them. The half moon shone on the boys face, his hazel eyes were clouded and his forehead was creased in concern. He was so fucking perfect and it hurt Charlie to see that. It was boys like him that had gotten into this mess. Boys like him with muscles and ruffled hair. With high cheekbones and killer jawbones. Boys that he'd couldn't help but notice them as soon as they walked into the room. Boys. Perfect fucking boys and not girls. Real men liked girls. Real men saw girls like he was seeing the stranger.

"I'm Bambi."

Was that a joke? Bambi, the weak motherless deer, had nothing on the God-like being in front of him.

"Charlie." He whispered. "I'm Charlie..." Bambi smiled at him. Bambi. Smiled. At. Him! He felt butterflies going wild in his stomach.

"You're cute, you know that, right?"

"You think so...?"

"So cute." Cute. Not hot, but cute. He could live with that. Something twinged inside of him at Bambi's words. Real men don't flirt with guys. The tears spilled again. He'd ruined it, of course he had. He couldn't talk to a guy for one minute without crying like the pathetic baby he was. "Oh... Charlie! Did I do something wrong?"

Apart from being a guy? No, nothing. He turned around and made for the gate.

"I'm going now, I'm sorry i'm a fucking mess."

"No!" The emotion in Bambi's voice made him stop. They'd only known each other for a few minutes and yet he seemed to care enough not to want him to go. Not yet anyway - give it a while and he'll leave like everybody else. "Please don' leave. I only just got 'ere. Whatever's the matter, I can help you sort it..."

Charlie had to laugh at that. There was no quick fix to this problem. There was no fix at all. No matter how hard he tried, he'd never be able to think of a girl what he thinks of Bambi. He just shook his head and went back to sit on the swings.

"You can't fix me. I'm done for."

"Oh trust me, I can fix anybody..."

"You can make people straight? Please."

"Oh-"

"Yeah that's right, I'm a ponce."

"Me too, as the mad hatter once said, 'all the best people are'"

Charlie laughed, "I'm pretty sure it wasn't him that said that..."

"What? I'm wrong? Nonsense, he must have said it at some point."

"Sure..."

Bambi had joined him on the swings, their legs brushed against each other as they gently swung. They sat in silence for a few minutes, just enjoying the sound of the creaking sings and the nightlife around them.

"Maybe... maybe next time you can come to me... if it gets- if it gets bad again?"

"If it gets bad again?"

"I- You know... at home."

"I'm not going home."

"Oh."

"I'm going to crash at my friends house or something... I'll figure it out. But I am not going home."

"You can always stay at mine tonight?"

Charlie thought it over in silence for a minute. It was highly unlikely he was a murderer, and if he was, well Charlie wasn't going to have lasted much longer on his own anyway.

"O- okay... thanks."

finite.

words: 1139    time taken: 67 minutes   date: 26-01-19   written by: r