Being Wrong

Travis noticed Charlie watching him the next morning in math class, but as soon as Travis met his gaze, Charlie looked away. Well, so much for that potential friendship. Travis folded his arms on his desk and rested his chin on them.

It had been such a brief thing, but Travis really had hoped they could be friends. Besides being ridiculously cute, Charlie was also quiet and liked music. While Travis had been playing him that first song, he'd felt like the ideal friend. If Travis were honest with himself, though, he knew very little about Charlie and what he was actually like. Charlie kept so much hidden that he'd been mostly a blank slate for Travis to project his ideal friend onto. Travis probably would have ended up disappointed regardless.

Even so, he couldn't help but mope a little. All he wanted was one friend who he could just have over to chill with, someone who could provide him with the company he lacked while living alone without complicating things too much. He shushed the part of his brain that reminded him that wanting to plant kisses all over Charlie's cute little face was totally a complication, whether or not Charlie would have been amenable to that.

And sure, Travis had friends. Several of them. He’d just… never really fit comfortably with them. It was fine at school or when there was a planned activity, but there was nobody he meshed with well enough to just hang out with without any real plans.

All Travis wanted was someone to chill with who wasn't his cat, but nothing was ever that simple.

#

Charlie desperately wanted to go and sit outside Travis' door that evening and listen to his music as he usually did, but he didn't dare. Things were different now. Somehow Charlie had messed things up. Was there something he’d been supposed to say after Travis came out to him? Charlie still couldn’t puzzle it out.

The prospect of the weekend had sounded appealing when he was at school, but now that it had actually come around Charlie found himself looking forward to Monday. When the school week started again Charlie was sure he'd change his mind again, but just then any escape from his grandparents sounded appealing. Why couldn't they just ignore him like his dad had most of the time? Everything Charlie did seemed to end up being the wrong thing. There was no point in trying.

On Saturday Charlie's grandparents tried to get him to help with gardening, but they didn't have spare gloves for him. His job was weeding the garden beds, and his hands quickly got covered in dirt and plant juices. Charlie wiped his hands on his jeans, but the feeling of discomfort couldn't be so easily brushed away. It was under his fingernails. Charlie sat back on the paved footpath leading through the front garden and grimaced down at his hands.

"Come on, chop chop," Charlie's grandpa said, his tone jovial. "You've still got five more garden beds to go and you're not even finished with that one yet."

Charlie stared around at the rest of the garden. Five more, and the one he was on now was the smallest. At the feeling of something tickling his arm Charlie looked down to find an ant crawling on him and made a face as he flicked it off. It was hot outside and he had started to sweat.

Charlie's grandpa knelt down beside him. "The garden looks nice, doesn't it? We've all got to do our part to keep it looking good. It won't take long if we work hard."

Charlie felt his throat tightening and he shook his head sharply as his shoulders hunched. He wanted to do his part, he wanted to be good, to be useful. He didn't want to get in trouble again. He just couldn't. He'd reached his limit and now he just wanted to wash off all the uncomfortable feelings flooding his senses. How could he communicate that when he didn't even feel like he could speak without crying?

The corners of Charlie's grandpa's lips tugged down as he watched Charlie. He looked like he was about to reach a hand out, then thought better of it and pulled it back. He glanced over his shoulder to where Charlie's grandma was working on the other side of the garden before turning back to Charlie. "I don't know what the right thing to do about you is. We always thought you made such a fuss over everything because your mum spoiled you, but now look at you. You've gotten quieter about the fuss you make, but everything is still just as big a deal. I don't know what you've been through with your dad, but I doubt it was any kind of spoiling."

Charlie's chest squeezed painfully tight and he had to fight to keep his breathing even. He wanted so desperately to be understood, for someone to tell him it was okay, that he was okay. That he wasn't bad or broken or wrong. That he couldn't help his struggles and that they weren't his fault.

Instead, his grandpa gave him a helpless shrug. He was just as lost in this as Charlie was. "If you get your work done, maybe we can see about getting some batteries for your tape player."

Suddenly, Charlie was furious. His music. He wanted it back so badly, but completing the simple task he'd been assigned felt impossible. Everything was always out of his grasp and it was always made to be Charlie's fault.

Once upon a time Charlie would have shouted and screamed, thrown things, maybe pulled up some plants and stomped on the flowers to make his frustration with the world thoroughly known. That kind of behaviour had been beaten out of him, though, so now he bit down hard on his knuckles, his face buried against his knees. He was crying, and he didn't care that he was crying. He didn't want to exist anymore.

"Oh, Erin, help!" Charlie heard his grandpa call out across the yard. At her approach he asked, "What do I do?"

"What's wrong, Charlie?" Charlie's grandma asked from somewhere beside him. "Did an ant bite you?"

"I don't think it's anything like that," Charlie's grandpa said. "I don't know what to do about this boy."

Charlie heard his grandma sigh over the sounds of his own ragged breathing. "Come on, let's go back inside and get you washed up."

That was exactly what Charlie wanted, but he felt rooted to the ground, unable to move, like he would fall apart if he unlocked his muscles.

"Up you get, Charlie," Charlie's grandpa said, and then Charlie felt hands under his arms, trying to pull him to his feet. Charlie let out a high pitched hurt animal sound and the hands immediately withdrew as Charlie curled further in on himself.

#

Travis hadn't been watching Charlie, not really. He'd just happened to have decided to water his small garden while Charlie happened to be out helping his grandparents with their garden. Being there specifically to watch him would have been creepy, so of course Travis wasn't. He was just watering the garden very thoroughly.

Charlie looked no more comfortable in the company of his grandparents than he had at school or alone with Travis. He was weeding one of the garden beds, and gradually he began to look more and more agitated. Travis went to turn the hose off before he drowned the plants.

A loud yelp made Travis freeze as he was reeling in the hose. He abandoned the hose and headed for the fence, heart hammering in his chest.

Charlie curled in on himself, his knees pressed to his chest and his face buried in them. Next to him, his grandparents hovered uncertainly as they tried to encourage him with gentle words. No one was hurting him.

When Charlie's grandma noticed Travis watching she shot him a scowl, and Travis retreated. He wasn't needed. He'd just... he'd been suddenly so afraid that someone was hurting Charlie. It didn't make sense, feeling so fiercely protective over someone he hardly knew, someone who didn't even want to be his friend.

Or maybe it did. Travis' hand snuck up under his shirt as he headed back into his flat, chasing phantom bruises that had faded years ago. Robby hadn't been able to protect him all the time.

Travis sat down on the sofa and picked up his guitar.

#

Charlie breathing stopped as he heard the first few notes of guitar music, then resumed at a less frantic rate as he lifted his head to listen as Travis' voice joined the sounds. It wasn't until the chorus hit about a minute into the song that Charlie realised he recognised the song and it became easier to make out individual words. I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell... It was fitting enough that it felt personal, like somehow it had been intended especially for Charlie.

Charlie stood and brushed dirt off his jeans. He wanted to go closer. He wasn't allowed. He turned and went inside instead. He needed a shower.

#

On Sunday morning Charlie announced he was going to try to catch up on some school work, and apparently that was deemed a good enough use of his time because his grandparents left him alone for the rest of the day. Through the open glass door that led out onto the garden Charlie could hear the distant sounds of music coming from Travis' stereo.

Charlie wished he could go over to Travis' house and sit on Travis' sofa, surrounded by the sounds of music while he studied from his textbooks, but he'd ruined any chances of that pretty fast. Nobody wanted to be friends with someone weird like Charlie, least of all someone cool and popular like Travis who probably had lots of friends.

Charlie glanced up when he saw the curtains that hung in front of the glass door shift and saw Artemis' head poking inside. She glanced around curiously, sniffing the air, before slowly slipping inside with her head lowered cautiously. She jumped up onto the bed and made her way over to Charlie, purring loudly even before Charlie reached up to scratch her behind her ears.

"Does Travis know you're here?" Charlie asked quietly, and Artemis made a curious mrow sound in response as she rubbed her head against his hand. "I can't go over there anymore. I shouldn't have ever. Travis doesn't want to be my friend."

"Mrew?" Artemis asked as she flopped herself down across Charlie's lap.

Charlie shrugged. "I don't know. Nobody really likes me. I'm too weird, I guess. I make people uncomfortable."

"Mrrow," Artemis said, curling onto her back so Charlie could rub her belly.

"Yeah, except for you. You don't care as long as I pet you."

"Mrr," Artemis agreed.

Artemis was in the way a bit, but Charlie found if he placed the textbook on his bed in front of him and leaned over he could still read it. Somehow Artemis' quiet company cleared Charlie's head, made it easier to focus on his work. Charlie wondered, as he stroked idle lines up and down Artemis' back, if this was how it felt to have a friend.

Hours later Charlie's grandpa knocked on his door to tell him it was time for dinner, and Artemis leapt off his lap and ran back outside like she was being chased. Charlie sighed. Time to interact with humans again.

#

Charlie had seemed to be avoiding the lunchtime performances since Travis had snapped at him for touching his guitar, but on Monday Travis spotted him sitting against the wall of one of the buildings at a safe distance, quietly watching as Travis played. Travis wished he'd come over again and look up at him with awe filled eyes. Charlie was too far away for Travis to even make out his facial expression. Still, he played to him. Despite the small crowd gathered in front of him, in Travis' mind he was playing to an audience of one.

Now he sang the silly love songs he wouldn't have sung directly to Charlie, a flirtation in the only form he dared. Charlie was probably straight. Travis really should stop imagining soft pink lips too often chewed and pretty blue eyes as he let words flow into the microphone. This wasn't some grand romance. This was a stupid crush that he just couldn't seem to let go of.

#

School didn't get easier and Charlie didn't make friends. Maybe he was giving up too soon, but by Tuesday it seemed to Charlie that things would never improve. How could he catch up with his classmates when he was constantly anxious and couldn't focus on what his teachers were saying? His mum had always told him he was smart, but it didn't feel like it. No matter how hard he tried, his brain refused to cooperate and focus when he needed it to.

#

It was kind of heart breaking seeing Charlie at school every day, always alone, always visibly anxious. By Wednesday, Travis was starting to wonder if he should try to approach Charlie again. Maybe things weren't permanently and irreparably ruined between them.

But what could he say to Charlie that wouldn't just make things weirder? He'd done a pretty embarrassing job of coming out to Charlie, and Travis knew from experience that just about every guy he talked to who knew he was gay assumed he was into them. In Charlie's case, that also happened to be true.

And... could he really, truly claim that his stupid crush played no part in motivating him to want to try again with Charlie? Sure, he felt sorry for Charlie, worried about him being all alone, but he couldn't deny that he had a fixation. By the end of Wednesday, Travis had reached no solid conclusions.