Work Text:
A cool breeze blows from the window, making the lace curtains in Dennis's room sway gently, while random glam rock plays softly from the tape recorder, blending with Mac's snoring. The three of them, as usual, got wasted on wine stolen from Barbara. Mac always drank faster than anyone and passed out after awkward comments or stories told with too much hype. This time, he exhausted Dennis with his karate-style hand-chopping faster than usual and blacked out earlier. Dennis didn't drink that much, "I'm enjoying the taste and a light feeling of intoxication," he would always say, with a slight jab at Mac and Charlie. In reality, he was terrified of losing control, doing something stupid, or saying something he would regret. Charlie was resilient on his own, he swallowed Mrs. Kelly's pills, sniffed glue, drank paint, and finished off whatever was left in the glass bottles he found in the living room and kitchen in the morning. Anything to go numb, so the wine only made him slightly buzzed, even if he drank a couple of bottles.
It was Mac who came up with the idea to steal alcohol from Dennis's mother. They were only fifteen, and for three months straight, they had been getting wasted every single week. Sobriety was repulsive to all of them. It wasn't just Charlie trying to burn his brain out with whatever he could find, Dennis and Mac were just as lost, lonely, and alienated as him. The world didn't accept them, but Mac hoped to fit in, while Dennis deluded himself with fantasies that he was too good for everyone else. Charlie, on the other hand, always knew his place was somewhere in a dusty basement, or between Mac and Dennis on a battered couch, under the bleachers, or right here on the carpet in Dennis's bedroom.
After Mac passed out, Charlie and Dennis would just lie on the floor staring at the ceiling, or sneak out to smoke cigarettes Charlie swiped from his mom's purse. Dennis liked Charlie, a little more than Mac, in a completely different way too. At school, he barely approached them two. He didn’t want to shatter his delusions, the image he had built up in his mind. They were teased. Charlie humiliated himself, eating spiders and sniffing bleach, hoping to get the popular kids to like him, hoping that this time they wouldn't beat him to death. In reality they only laughed at him, which wasn't so bad actually if it gave him an opportunity to laugh along with everyone. Charlie was too short, frail, and weak unless he went feral, sometimes his body would fill with strength and rage, and he wouldn't just fight, he would attack like a wild animal with claws and teeth. They still teased him for being a girl, which cut Charlie way too deep, though he never showed it, because if you ever show the bullies they're hitting a nerve, they'll just press harder. Only a few people knew Charlie's secret, and honestly, nobody cared that much about it. He was okay with being disgusting in the eyes of the entire school, as long as nobody was wondering what was under that baggy t-shirt. He tried to be more masculine, he wore clothes a bigger size, tried to look taller, took wide strides, but he only caught more strays from it.
Mac was bullied too, not like Charlie, he irritated people in a different way, without any particular reason. On top of that, he had a ridiculous name and the eyes of a kid whose parents didn't love him. Surely, the Golden God shouldn't have been hanging out with weird losers, but after school, where he figured nobody would see or find out, they were friends.
Charlie and Dennis sat on the floor, finishing off the bottle of wine, while Mac was sprawled out on Dennis’s bed, his face was comfortably buried in the soft, fresh pillows. Charlie was staring at the lava lamp closely, and Dennis was staring at Charlie. Both of their lips were stained red from the wine, and in the colored glow of the lamp, Charlie looked even more beautiful to Dennis than usual. He had big catlike eyes, a sprinkle of freckles, and plump lips. Charlie hated getting haircuts, brushing his hair and taking care of it in general.
It was almost at the shoulder length and sticking out in a messy way. Nevertheless he had a good hair. Dennis would casually play with Charlie’s hair sometimes, so he knew for a fact it was incredibly soft. He even was a bit envious of it, because his own expensive shampoos and masks, the endless jars in his bathroom, never made his hair that soft. He would like to touch Charlie more often, to just calmly rest a hand on his waist or lay his head on his shoulder. He even wished he could just walk up to him at school during recess, but in his wildest dreams, he thought about how they could hold each other, stroking a knee, or how he could snuggle his nose in his tender neck hoping to catch a soft gasp, or to give his thigh a playful pinch. It scared Dennis a little. He wasn’t gay, definitely no, so as Charlie... Dennis would cut his own thoughts short right there. Of course Charlie was a guy, more of a man than either of them, really. Charlie never whined when he stubbed his toe or got punched right in the eye, unlike Mac, who could start whimpering over the tiniest scratch. Dennis had read about bisexuality in his sister’s magazines and thought about it, but not for too long, philosophically deciding that it didn't matter or that it was all just too convoluted anyway. Mostly, Dennis preferred to wonder if Charlie had freckles on his ass.
Charlie looked so innocent, barely looking back at Dennis while tracing patterns on the carpet with his finger. He used to raise his head, as if about to ask something, only to look back down. Dennis wanted to wash Charlie’s hair, brush it, and maybe pop that pimple on his nose. Deep inside, Dennis loved Charlie just the way he was. Mac was constantly trying to conform to a superficial idea of an ideal. After meeting Dennis, he started showering more often and using some kind of cologne - always way too sweet, completely suffocating Dennis. Even then, Mac was still just too boring, too sweet, too Mac. Charlie sighed again and looked at Dennis, even opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it. It was getting a little irritating, and Dennis was already dying of curiosity.
"What?"
"Um... Well... It’s… Nothing."
Charlie drops his eyes to the floor and picks at his fingertips, biting his lip.
"Dude, I can see something's bothering you. Was someone picking on you at school?"
Charlie looks down with a sigh. He knows that Dennis wouldn't do a damn thing even if Charlie were beaten to death, maybe not. There’s a possibility that some random booze or drugs would mysteriously show up in the bully's locker, but that would definitely be an accident.
"Have you ever kissed anyone?" Charlie blurts out.
"Of course, plenty of times. Look at me, Charlie, everybody wants to kiss me, right?"
Charlie’s face had turned red, his eyes widened as if something deeply secret just been exposed. As if Dennis knew everything about him - every wet dream, every single tear, and about those scars on his thigh where absolutely no one could see them. As if he knew about his most sacred desire, the one Charlie himself wasn't even sure of.
"Well, I don't know, I don't really get how it works. You know, for some reason, nobody wants to kiss me. What am I doing wrong?"
Charlie was mumbling, then started talking faster and even louder, so Dennis got closer and placed a hand over his. He could have listed exactly what Charlie was doing wrong, why not a single girl would ever come near him, but Dennis thinks that Charlie isn't meant for all those pathetic people anyway. He’s too magnificent. Nobody can appreciate how unique he is.
"Is there really nobody?" Dennis whispered right into Charlie’s ear.
Charlie exhaled sharply through his nose, grabbed the wine bottle, and took such a big sip that the liquid stained his lips. His freckled cheeks burned red. Dennis moved even closer, he was nervous, but he didn't let it show. In a way Charlie was a psycho, he could just start screaming and throwing punches. One time, he snapped and attacked some guy, biting his arm until it started bleeding, that prick deserved it.
Sometimes Dennis wants for Charlie to leave teeth marks on him too, but he buries those thoughts deep down. Dennis didn't think Charlie would attack him, but the possibility was still there. Charlie resembled a terrified but wild little animal, so Dennis chose to be careful. He moved in completely close, gently stroking Charlie’s arm, and looked into his frightened green eyes.
"Charlie, I want to kiss you. Can I?" Dennis said it as softly and tenderly as he possibly could.
Charlie turned even more red, rashes spreading all the way down his neck and ears. He turned his head and awkwardly scratched the back of his neck. Dennis was so close that his breath brushed against Charlie's cheek, and Charlie could smell the mix of mint toothpaste and wine from him.
"You don't have to do this out of pity, dude. Or is this some kind of joke?" Charlie was fidgeting with the hem of his t-shirt, right where a small hole had already worn through. "I know you can be really cruel. Don't do this to me, you know..."
"Hey, easy, easy, Charlie. Just tell me, do you want to or not? It's just a kiss, we're not at the altar, bro." Dennis smiled again, the way he usually smiled at insecure girls, yet a little different, less rehearsed.
"The hell, of course I want to."
Before Charlie could start talking too much and too loud again, Dennis gently lifted him by the chin and pressed against his lips. He stroked the freckled cheek and applied a fraction of pressure to his jaw, asking to be let in further. At first, Charlie got so nervous that he froze and closed his eyes shut, but then he relaxed and parted his lips. Dennis’s slick, wide tongue claimed the entire space at once. For a second, Charlie even felt like he was going to suffocate, and it triggered some vague, dark memories, the kind of stuff he kept trying to burn out from his brain with glue, paint, and alcohol. Charlie cracked his eyes open to chase away the image of something scary; it was just Dennis, the most beautiful person, kissing him, squeezing his hand. He had absolutely no clue what to do, whether to copy Dennis or to just wait. On second thought, Charlie squeezed Dennis's hand back and timidly placed his other hand on Dennis’s shoulder. Dennis could feel Charlie exhaling through his nose, the sour aftertaste of his mouth, and his soft, still tongue. He broke away from Charlie for a split second just to whisper, "Move more, don't be scared." He wanted to call Charlie "baby," but decided against it, the situation was probably baffling enough for Charlie as it was, maybe next time. Dennis started kissing Charlie again, sliding his other hand to Charlie's waist, gripping it tightly. Charlie began to mimic Dennis’s movements, and it became more interesting, more pleasant. He moved even closer with a soft sigh, practically climbing into Dennis's lap, and that's when Dennis allowed himself to slip a hand under the t-shirt, stroking his lower back. Charlie bit Dennis’s lip, the way he’d seen it being done in a movie once, and they got even closer again, their teeth clacking together. Dennis’s hand traveled higher and it brushed against the elastic bandage Charlie used to bind his chest. He immediately slid his hand back down to stroke the curve of his spine. Charlie let out a groan, so soft, sweet, and practically girlish. Terrified of his own voice, he broke the kiss, biting lip, and stared at Dennis with wide, rounded eyes. Dennis smiled kindly, understandingly, and gave Charlie’s lips one more gentle peck.
"Wow, dude..." Charlie whispered.
Dennis’s smile turned proud and confident, and then he winked. Charlie wanted to ask if this would ever happen again; he seemed completely overwhelmed by his emotions. He felt like jumping and throwing punches, not caring where these feelings were coming from. Whether it was because it was his first kiss, or because it was Dennis. In that moment, Charlie didn't give a shit. Mac even mumbled something into the pillow, turning away from the moonlight. Dennis and Charlie looked at him with a smile.
They quietly climbed out the window onto the roof to smoke. They stared at the moon, taking turns dragging from the same cigarette, while Dennis was trying to figure out if it was a full moon or if it needed another phase, Charlie timidly placed his palm over Dennis's hand and gave it a little squeeze.