Worthy to Think the World Of

Charlie was sat on the couch wearing Forrest’s sweatpants, one of his long sleeved shirts, and his Seaside High School hoodie. She held a mug of tea (that Forrest had made for her, which surprised Charlie probably more than anything he’d done thus far with how perfect it was) and watched Forrest’s back as he lit the bits of newspaper in the centre of pile of wood. Once the fire got going, he joined her on the couch, bringing his feet up onto the coffee table. He’d changed into sweatpants too, but his tolerance of the cold was much better than hers, so he only wore a t-shirt.

The rain pattered against the windows and thunder rumbled on occasion, but it was sort of like white noise to Charlie. She was too focused on Forrest, and how he’d put his arm around her shoulders without any sort of warning, thumbing the material of the hoodie absently while he stared at the fire.

“My dad died,” he said, his voice so soft she thought she might’ve imagined it. “Today’s the anniversary. Five fucking years.”

She didn’t say ‘I’m sorry’ because the words didn’t really mean anything. Instead, Charlie traced the curve of his jaw with her eyes, the bump on the bridge of his nose, the contemplative frown on his lips, and finally stopped at his eyes, flickering gold in the firelight. “He’s the reason you jump,” she said instead, because she’d pieced it together by then.

“It’s kinda morbid,” Forrest replied. Charlie gripped her mug tighter, wanting to reach over and touch him somewhere, anywhere, but chose to keep her hands to herself. His arm around her shoulder and his side pressed against hers were enough for now to remind her that he was there. “Memento mori. I learned about it in English class, sophomore year. It’s a reminder of our own mortality; that death is exists and it’s inevitable for all of us.”

“You’re right,” she said. Forrest furrowed his eyebrows at her. “That is morbid.”

It got a half-hearted chuckle out of him, at least. Forrest searched her face, his eyes flicking down to her mouth every few seconds, before finally turning back to the fire. “Are you hungry?” he asked. “Or do you wanna do something? We’ve got a million boardgames.”

Charlie sipped her tea and brought her legs up, criss-crossing them. One of her knees leaned against Forrest’s thigh. “I kinda like just sitting here with you.”

“Good. ‘Cause I’m too tired to move anyway,” Forrest sighed, leaning his head back. His eyes fluttered shut and Charlie took the opportunity to stare at him again, because she could never get enough. After a few minutes of silence Charlie wondered if Forrest had actually fallen asleep. She leaned in, studying his face for any signs of wakefulness, her nose almost touching his.

Then the corner of his mouth quirked up and his eyes flew open, staring at her with amusement. Charlie made a surprised noise and fell back, suddenly grateful that she’d put her tea down earlier and it wasn’t spilling all over her. Once she’d righted herself, now sat facing Forrest with one leg tucked beneath the other, Charlie slapped his chest, hard.

“Don’t do that!” she exclaimed, frowning at him.

Forrest chuckled, not looking like her blow had hurt him at all. His eyes sparkled, bright and green and magnetic. Charlie’s frown deepened to a pout, and she refused to look at him regardless of how much she wanted to. While she stared pointedly at the fire, Charlie realized that her behaviour would probably be considered flirting, something she thought she’d forgotten how to do, and she’d done it with Forrest as easily as talking.

Fingers brushing against her jaw made Charlie jump, she’d been so absorbed in her own thoughts. Forrest’s hand drew back and he was grinning again, but his eyes were softer than before. Charlie blinked at him, a small smile making it’s way onto her own face. “Hey,” he murmured.

“Hi.”

“You know how sometimes…you don’t really realize how much you need something until it’s right there, and suddenly it’s like…’this is good, this is where I’m supposed to be,’ and everything feels right?”

Charlie bit her lip, because she knew exactly what Forrest was talking about; it was how she felt whenever he looked at her, especially lately. Unable to voice her thoughts aloud, the enormity of everything almost too much to bear, Charlie nodded.

“That’s how I feel about you,” Forrest said. He grabbed her hand, enveloping it in his, rubbing a calloused finger across the back of her palm.

To Charlie, it was obvious why somebody could fall in love with Forrest. He was beautiful and kind, and although he had a bit of tumultuous dating history, his better qualities made up for it. He didn’t let the sadness in his past overcome him, but used it as a reminder to be strong and make every second count. He carried a genuine smile and didn’t disregard anyone, and as far as she knew, he didn’t have any enemies. But what she didn’t understand was how he could possibly need her. In Charlie’s mind, she was broken beyond repair, with less than stellar social skills, messy hair, and a past that haunted her every day. He could tell her that he cared, that she was important, and although she heard him, it didn’t make sense.

“Why?”

“Because I’ve never felt like I can be myself around other people,” he began, staring at their hands, how they fit perfectly, and that there was a strange sort of beauty to the freckles splattered across her pale skin. Forrest liked Charlie’s freckles, but had never noticed they weren’t just on her face, and he liked the ones on her hands and arms just as much. “Not that I pretend around other people, I don’t believe in pretending to be something you’re not, there’s just some stuff that I don’t tell anyone. But, I dunno, there’s just something about you that makes me feel like it’s okay to say those things. You know me better than anyone else in the world.”

She’d suspected, but finding out it was true put an enormous burden on her. Forrest claimed that she knew him inside and out, and yet she’d hardly shared herself with him. It was unclear to Charlie whether for not he expected her to reciprocate, tell him everything about her, when it was quite possibly the most difficult thing she would ever do and she didn’t think that she was ready.

“You still confuse me, for the record,” she said, frowning. “People warn me to be careful around you, but your reputation is kinda misleading. I know you aren’t just trying to hook up or whatever, and I’m not sure if you’re aware of it, but that’s what everyone else thinks.”

Forrest’s eyebrows knit together as he absorbed this information. But then his expression smoothed out and he reached up, tucking an errant curl behind Charlie’s ear. “I don’t care what anyone else thinks. Your opinion is the only one that matters,” Forrest replied with certainty.

It was a bold statement, and one that Charlie couldn’t possibly believe was true. Even when she shut down, there was still a part of her that worried even the people who didn’t know her didn’t like her. It was impossible not to care, even if you didn’t want to or said that you didn’t, it was a lie. Everyone cares, some are just more aware of it than others.

“You care what Neil and Piper think,” she reminded him. “What about the guys on the soccer team? Or is it football? Nevermind, it doesn't matter. They’re your friends, you must care what they think.”

“Okay, sure, they’re important too, but that’s not what I’m trying to get at here.”

“Then what is it?”

Forrest searched her eyes, squeezing her hands. “I’m trying to tell you how important you are to me,” he said, gaze sparkling with sincerity. “I know there’s some stuff in your past that has made you think that you aren’t worth the effort, but I think that those people are assholes and they don’t know you like I do.”

“You hardly know me at all!” she exclaimed, too overwhelmed by his words to be so close to him any longer, and tore her hands from his before standing and walking over to the fireplace. She braced herself against the mantle with one hand, raking the other through her tangled curls. “We’ve known each other for, what, two months? And I’ve barely told you anything, and I know you’ve been patient, but how can you possibly feel all those things when you don’t even know my middle name?”

“What is it?”

“What?”

“Your middle name.”

Charlie blinked at him, her shoulders sagging. “Amelia.”

“Okay,” he nodded, coming over to her. His hair fell into his eyes when he looked down at her, and Charlie thought that she’d never wanted something so much in her entire life as much as she wanted this boy, and yet the idea of him wanting her was terrifying. “Now, has anything changed?”

“No,” she said, confused.

“So it doesn’t matter if I know your middle name or—or...the name of the hamster you had when you were seven! I don’t—“

“I didn’t have a hamster,” Charlie interrupted, frowning at him.

Forrest smiled. “I was trying to make a point, Charlie.”

“Sorry.”

He paused before starting over. “I don’t know why you don’t believe me when I say that I care about you. All I’ve done is tell you the truth, so why would I start lying now?”

“I just don’t understand why you would want me like this,” she replied quietly. “I’m broken.”

“You aren’t,” he argued, cupping her face in his hands, thumbs brushing across her freckled cheekbones. “You think you are, but you’re thinking of whatever person you were before you came here. Do you want to know what I see when I look at you?”

Charlie was quiet, teeth biting down hard on her lip. She didn’t know if she could handle hearing any more. “Can it wait?”

His eyes, so hopeful, clouded with confusion. “Why?”

“Because I’m not ready.”

Slowly, Forrest nodded. He leaned down until his forehead pressed against hers; she could see the gold flicks in his celery green eyes. “Too much, huh?”

“It’s just—“ Charlie blinked rapidly, hardly able to focus with his breath hitting her lips and his hands sliding down her arms until they reached her hands, where he entwined their fingers. “It’s not your fault, really, you’re wonderful. I’m a mess.”

“What happened to you?”

He asked it so quietly, Charlie wasn’t certain he’d even intended to ask it at all. It was more like he was voicing his thoughts aloud by accident. When Forrest’s eyes widened and he swallowed nervously, Charlie figured she was right.

It was hard, but she stepped back, feeling cold all over once she was out of his grasp. She hugged herself, fingers curling into the sleeves of Forrest’s sweatshirt, and bowed her head so that her hair fell over her face and he couldn’t see the conflict in her expression.

Once she’d composed herself, Charlie picked up her head and turned toward the window. “Has it stopped raining? I should go home.”

“The storm’s going to last till tomorrow at least,” Forrest replied. Only when his hand brushed against her elbow did Charlie realized he’d walked over. “Is everything ok? I’m sorry I said that, it just slipped out.”

“It’s fine,” she said quickly, feeling the pressure rising in her chest again. “I can’t tell you, but it’s fine.”

She went back over to the couch and sat down, hugging her knees to her chest and practicing slow, long breaths. The cushion sank to her right as Forrest sat, one arm across the back of the couch behind her. “Can I ask you something else?”

“What is it?” She tilted her head to the side, cheek resting against her knee.

“Why don’t you want to tell me? Is it because it’s hard for you to talk about, or because you think I’ll judge you?”

Charlie considered his question. “It’s both.”

“You know I would never judge you, right?”

“Of course you would,” she said, rolling her eyes. Forrest started to protest, but she carried on. “Even if you didn’t say anything or consciously do it, you would form an opinion based on what I said. We can’t stop ourselves from thinking, Forrest.”

“Even if I did, whatever you say isn’t going to change how I feel about you.”

“Fine, but I’m still not going to tell you because I can hardly even think about it, much less say it out loud.”

“Sometimes talking helps. Especially with people who aren’t family.”

Charlie recalled how Forrest went to see a therapist up in Tillamook, the reason for which she now knew was his father’s death five years prior. “Well, I talk to your mom. Sometimes,” she said. “Why are you pushing this suddenly? Ten minutes ago you fine with me not telling you. Now it’s all, ‘you should talk to somebody, Charlie’ and ‘I promise not to judge you.’”

“I just want you to trust me enough to tell me things,” Forrest said. “I told you about my dad, which I’ve never done before. And I get it if you have a hard time saying stuff, but when you are ready, whether it’s five minutes from now or five months, I’ll be here.”

“Thank you.”

He nodded. “Now, can we stop talking?”

“I don’t want to play Scrabble,” Charlie said immediately. She was grateful he’d dropped the subject at least. They’d had enough heavy talk for the day.

Forrest chuckled. “I wasn’t talking about Scrabble, Charlie.”

“Then what—“ she began, stopping when his gaze flickered down to her mouth and back up again. “Oh.”

“I know I didn’t warn you the first time, but I had a lot of adrenaline and I really wanted to,” he rambled. “But I’d really like to do it again, if you’ll let me.”

Hearing Forrest tell her lovely things was one thing, but kissing him was quite another. Charlie hesitated, her heartbeat escalating, trying to figure out whether or not she was ready for this. He’d had the courtesy to ask this time at least, but now all of the pressure was on her once more. Charlie knew that Forrest was only doing what he thought was best, because he wanted this to work, for them to work, and she was the only thing standing in the way.

If she was ever going to be more comfortable with the verbal part, she supposed (a little self indulgently) that this would be a step in the process. Charlie wanted to trust him, to know him and for him to know her. But the anxiety and the memories were crowding her brain, making it almost impossible for her to focus on him.

In one burst of spontaneity — from where she wasn’t entirely sure — Charlie turned toward Forrest and pecked him on the lips. Short and sweet, leaving both of them surprised.

“You can’t expect me to be satisfied with that,” Forrest said after a moment, looking amused.

“Think of it as a ‘yes,’” she told him.

“Meaning I can kiss you? Properly, this time?”

Charlie smiled shyly, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. Forrest gave her a full-blown grin, teeth and all, and closed the gap between them a second later. With featherlight fingers, Charlie skimmed Forrest’s jaw and weaved her hands into his hair. He was being incredibly careful, lips soft against hers and hands fixed on her waist, and the experience was nothing like she’d expected. Charlie had kissed boys before, and the ones who wanted to do it as much as Forrest seemed to weren’t nearly as restrained as he was being.

“I’m not,” she said without pulling away. “Made of glass.”

“I wasn’t sure,” Forrest mumbled back. “You’ve probably got all these ideas about how many girls I’ve dated, and I have no idea what your relationship history is…I don’t even know if you’ve ever had a boyfriend. Though I would seriously doubt that. You’re too beautiful.”

She kissed him again, harder this time, her hands sliding out of his hair. She draped her arms over his shoulders lazily, letting herself get lost in his taste and his smell and the feeling of his body, and hooked one leg over his hips, straddling him. “I’ve had boyfriends,” she said, pulling away again to look Forrest in the eye. His were a mix of emotions, but she could see surprise most of all. He’d finally stopped with the whole ‘being careful’ thing and had slipped his hands beneath the sweater and shirt she had on, travelling up her sides and along her spine. His calloused fingertips were rough against her skin, but they pressed with an urgency that Charlie was wondering where he’d been hiding.

“Boyfriends? Plural?”

“Surprised?”

“You said you were different before I met you,” said Forrest, brows furrowed. “I guess I didn’t really think about it.”

Charlie didn’t reply, only reached down and successfully pulled off the sweatshirt while keeping the long-sleeved tee on. Her hair was even more of a mess once the material was tossed aside, but Forrest didn’t seem to care, so Charlie kissed him again and forgot all about it.