Oliver Ausman Lives Again

four

This chapter is dedicated to moonfruits ! Thank you so much for the support and for leaving one of the nicest comments I've ever gotten :')

I open the door to Charlie's room slowly, peering inside. The space is shrouded in a soft green glow, courtesy of the night light next to his bed. In the dark, I can just barely recognize the blonde hair poking out from under his quilt. I step inside and close the door behind me, trying to think of how to explain all this to him.

I'm already packed, and this is one of the last things I need to do before I leave. I've got a duffel bag full of clothes and necessities sitting on my bed, ready to go. My wallet is tucked in the back pocket of my jeans, heavier than it's ever been. I sifted through all the gifts I got and picked out all the money-- combined with what I already had, I ended up with almost five hundred dollars, which I figure should be enough.

I walk over to his bed, sitting gently on top of the navy blanket. Charlie doesn't move, and I wonder for a second if I should just leave him be. But the vague note I plan to leave Peter and Mom doesn't seem sincere enough when it comes to Charlie. He deserves a proper goodbye.

I place a hand on his shoulder and give a light shake. "Charlie," I whisper. He's too much of a deep sleeper for that to have any effect, so I try again. "Charlie."

His eyes scrunch and he hums a confused response, obviously not fully awake yet. His eyes finally open, eyebrows furrowing as he registers my presence, coming to. 

"Oliver?" He rubs his eyes, sitting up and reaching for the glasses on the shelf above his headboard.

"Hey, you don't have to get up," I insist, not wanting to keep him awake. "I just have to tell you something."

He puts the wire frames on anyway, scratching his head and smoothing out his hair, which is stuck in every possible direction. "What?" It's hard to tell if he's asking what I have to tell him, or just in general confusion. 

"Um, I'm going somewhere-- I won't be here in the morning, and I don't know when I'll be back." I dance around the subject, but don't like the way it makes me feel-- just as much as I deserve to know the truth, so does Charlie. "Uncle Morris told me something at the party today." 

Charlie stays silent, his head tilting to the side. I'm sure I must seem a little out of it since I'm so hopped up on adrenaline, so I try to take a deep breath, not wanting to freak him out.

"Peter isn't my dad," I blurt. I have to wonder, was anyone planning to tell Charlie? If Uncle Morris was right, and under normal circumstances I would've been told on my eighteenth birthday, where would that have left Charlie? Would they have expected me to keep it a secret from him until he was older?

That seems to wake him up. "What?"

"Your uncle Isaac is my biological dad," I explain, holding a finger up to tell him he needs to keep his voice down. "Mom and Peter never told him, or me. I know where he works and I'm gonna go find him. I want to meet him. I want to tell him."