What He Left Behind

A week and a half later, I am at Charlie’s house, along with the rest of the band. They write some songs for a while and sort out boxes of merchandise for their band which has just been delivered. I persuade Charlie to give me a shirt for free, since I am their biggest fan, after Harlee of course.

During the evening, I don’t have much of a chance to talk to Charlie as he’s busy writing songs, so I talk to Stan instead. Stan is hilarious. He tells me stories about all of the stuff he and Charlie get up to, and about all of the trouble they have gotten into. He’s so childish and immature I can’t help but laugh. He’s similar to Charlie but different at the same time. They both seem to have a habit of getting into trouble, but Stan’s the kind of person that goes looking for it so he can have a laugh.
With Charlie, trouble seems to follow him around. Charlie’s dark and brooding and thoughtful, but Stan’s light-hearted and laid-back and goofy. They kind of balance each other out.

At around 10.30pm, the guys all leave, but Charlie asks me to stay a while longer.

“I need to run something by you,” he tells me.

“Okay, what’s that?” I ask.

“Shut the door, I don’t want to wake my brother up.” I push the door to and then sit down on the bed, stretching my legs out over Charlie’s, just as an excuse to touch him. Charlie lights up a joint of weed, much to my annoyance. I cough because I don’t like the smell. He notices me spluttering and pulls back the curtain to open the window. It’s dark outside but I can see a bunch of houses all the way down to the main road, which is congested as always.

Charlie exhales the smoke out of the window. I appreciate the gesture but it’s not so much that I’m worried about; it’s the damage he’s doing to himself. That niggling feeling in the pit of my stomach returns, because I want to help him so badly. I don’t want to sit back and watch while he gradually destroys himself.

In a bid to distract myself from worrying about him, I try to think about something else. Charlie and I talk about how good the evening was, and I tell him all of the funny things that Stan was doing.

“Can you hurry up with that?” I nag, gesturing to the spliff, “It’s cold.” Charlie grabs one of his many black hoodies from the end of his bed and passes it to me.

“Put this on and quit whinging you stupid marshmallow,” he orders and I roll my eyes before slipping my arms into the jacket. It smells like Charlie and it’s warm and cosy and huge on me. I pull the sleeves over my hands and wrap it tighter around my shivering body.

“What are you going to show me then?” I ask.

“It’s this song I wrote,” he begins, finally putting out the joint, “It’s not great, so I need your help to tweak it a bit. I’m not even sure if I’ll play it to the guys to be honest; it’s kind of personal. I trust you.”

I smile; Charlie trusts me.

“Okay, let me hear it.” He takes a deep breath and hesitates for a second before looking down at the guitar and starting to play. He sings about his mum leaving and how lost it made him feel, and about his brother’s drug addiction and how he hates seeing him like that. It’s possibly my favourite thing he has ever written. Charlie has a way with words; his music is the best way I know to truly understand him. And I love anything that helps me understand him a little better. It’s like finding another clue to solving the infamous mystery that is Charlie Hemmingway.

I think carefully about what to say but realise I’m lost for words, so instead of speaking, I shift closer to him and lean into his chest, wrapping my arms around his torso. He lets out a small laugh, placing his arm round my shoulder and pulling me closer so that I am cocooned by his warmth.

“Do you like it?” he asks, almost timidly.

“I love it Charlie, it’s so real and genuine and emotional. I think it’s really good.”

“Thank you.”

“I think you should play it to the guys.”

“I don’t know doll,” he shrugs, “You know I don’t really talk about that stuff.”

“You don’t talk about feelings in general Charlie,” I smirk.

“Look who’s talking,” he teases, squeezing my waist because he knows I’m insanely ticklish there. I giggle and squirm in his arms but he refuses to let go of me.

“Seriously though,” I laugh, trying to regain my breath, “You should play it to them. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I’ll think about it,” he decides. We sit silently for a second and then Charlie suddenly presses his lips to my cheek, setting my skin on fire.

“What’s that for?” I ask.

He shrugs, smiling like I’ve never seen him smile before. “You’re just…great.”

“You’re not so bad either,” I smile, nuzzling my head into the crook of his neck because he’s wonderful and I love everything about him and I want to be close to him at every opportunity I have.

We remain silent for a few minutes, both of us deep in thought. After all, the song gave me a lot to think about. I can’t help but admire Charlie. Sure, he’s a bit rough around the edges but when I think of everything he’s been through, is it any wonder? I hate that he’s addicted to drugs but if he’s seen his older brother who he clearly looks up to turn to drugs, then surely it’s inevitable he’s going to get into drugs himself. I hate the way he doesn’t really respect women, but if the one woman who was meant to love him unconditionally has left without any sort of reason, then it’s no wonder.
I’m not saying that any of those things are okay, but underneath the drugs and the alcohol and the attitude and the arrogance, there’s a hurting boy who’s had a troubled childhood and a series of damaged relationships and a lack of positive role models and who wants nothing more than to be loved and to make something of himself through his music.

My mind flashes back to the handful of times he’s talked about his mother. I feel like that song shows his true feelings towards her. The raw emotion in his voice sends shivers down my spine because I can tell how much he is hurting. When he talks about his brother, it breaks my heart because I know that feeling all too well and it haunts me like a nightmare. I pray to god that neither Charlie nor his brother endure the same fate Austin did. I couldn’t bear for either of them to go through losing each other, and to be honest, I don’t think I could bear losing Charlie.

I feel for him. No matter how much Charlie pretends he’s okay, I know he’s not. I’ve always known music is the one place he can really let out his emotions, but that song takes it to a whole new level. I feel like I’ve just seen the deepest parts of him, and it’s a bittersweet feeling.

“I love you,” I say to Charlie, because it’s as simple as that. I could go on about how thoughtful and funny and interesting and talented he is. I could go on about all our memories and random conversations and how much they mean to me. I could go on about all the amazing things he has done for me and how grateful I am. I could go on about how relieving it is to have somebody that understands me better than I understand myself. I could go on for a while actually, but I know if I
start, I’ll never stop.

Those three words seem to sum everything up though. I love Charlie. I love him more than anything in the world and I’m sure there is nothing that will ever stop me from loving him. I love him with every piece of me. How could I not?

-

We talk for a while longer after that. Charlie says that he loves me too, although I don’t think that he means it in that way. I’m not even sure if I mean it in that way. I definitely have feelings for him but I think it’s too early to say I’m actually in love with him. All I know if that I love him to death in the best friend sort of way.

Charlie says that I might as well stay over. I got changed after school before I went to Charlie’s so I can easily wear the same clothes tomorrow to school. He gives me one of his shirts to sleep in and some old joggers which fit fine once I’ve rolled them up a bit at the ankles. I’m exhausted, so I go straight to sleep, relaxed and completely at ease knowing that everything will be okay so long as I have Charlie in my life.

-

The next day, I feel so comfortable and happy where I am that I don’t want to move, but I force myself to go to school. Charlie drops me off but decides not to actually come into school himself, which irritates me slightly, but I shrug it off, telling myself to stop being so controlling over him; it’s his life. At lunchtime, I say hi to Stan and the guys quickly before going to sit with Amber, Tristan, Harlee and Keegan.

“Do you guys want to hang out tonight?” I ask. I didn’t really have anything specific in mind, but I’m so happy at the moment and I’m hoping with every piece of me that the floor won’t fall through again, and I feel like if I keep busy, there won’t be any time for things to fall apart. Besides, I’m beginning to love spending time with these people.

“Hell yeah,” Harlee grins, “What should we do?”

“There’s a show down town for this indie rock band I know,” Keegan suggested.

“Honey, what do you not understand about me saving for college?” Harlee demands.

“But the tickets are only cheap.”

“No buts, I’m trying to save for college and you’re not even being supportive,” she cries, throwing her arms up as she storms out of the room. A look of panic crosses Keegan’s face as he gets up and chases after her, leaving just the three of us smirking and rolling our eyes.

“He’s whipped,” Tristan chuckles.

“Don’t be mean,” says Amber.

“Come on, she’s fucking crazy. Harlee’s a laugh, don’t get me wrong, but she’s nuts. Keegan’s a complete mug to run around after her like that.” I laugh. Tristan does have a point. I have noticed Harlee’s short-tempered snappiness towards Keegan and admittedly, she does have ridiculously high expectations of her boyfriend, but I just find it funny. I can’t imagine Keegan feels the same.

“We can just hang out at mine tonight if that’s easier,” I suggest.

“Oh I don’t know, that might not be good enough for the drama queen over there,” Tristan teases.

“Shut up,” Amber laughs, rolling her eyes, “Noelle that would be lovely if you don’t mind.”

“Yeah sure,” I grin. Maybe it sounds stupid but it makes me so happy that I’m socialising again and doing normal teenage things. I stopped all of that when things started going wrong with Austin, and it got even worse once he died, and I’ve always worried that I’d never know what it feels like to be ‘normal’ again.

I don’t know if normal is the right word. Maybe it’s more of a stability thing. I haven’t had stability in a long time, if ever; my father is a workaholic and my mother is severely depressed, my mental state is volatile and my brother’s fucking dead.

I guess there’s something comforting about having a solid friendship group. Sure, Harlee’s temperamental with Keegan but she’s nothing but nice to me. I like having friends that I can rely on, that I know beyond reasonable doubt will still be here tomorrow and the day after and the day after that. I love Charlie to bits but he’s not your average definition of ‘normal’, but these four people, they’re down-to-earth and they’re happy and they’re not goddamn drug addicts. Everything is simple and easy and fun and I don’t have to wake up each morning hoping against hope one of them hasn’t fucking topped themselves.

It’s a relief, even though it shouldn’t be because no one should ever have to feel like that in the first place, but I did for a while, but right now I’m okay. My mind suddenly feels overwhelmed and I realise I have once again thought into so much detail that I’ve tired myself out. It’s a silly habit I’ll eventually grow out of.

That’s what Austin used to say.

‘It’s a silly habit I’ll eventually grow out of.’