Charlie didn't say another word after that. He hung out with his friends the next break, not skipping a beat with his boisterous banter. Somehow, he seemed louder and more energetic than even before we started getting close. Was this his way of acting out? Is that the reason he acted like that in the past, because something had been bothering him? Even hurting him.

My eyes were set on him every second we were in the same vicinity. Our last class was Geography, and Charlie spent more time slapping his arms and forehead than paying attention in class. He used the edge of the table to make the ruler ricochet against it skin, but when it slid, it cartwheeled through the air and got him on the eyebrow and everyone besides me laughed.

Even Ikeisha giggled. But they didn't know why he was like this.

While he didn't get hurt, the teacher did send him outside of the class. He hadn't been this disruptive since the first day we were pushed into doing poetry together. Now I was seeing him in an entire new light. Something must go on in his life that makes him act like a clown. To draw attention to himself. To be noticed. Was there something missing in his life?

But after whatever happened with Jesse Atkinson, why would he want to draw this much attention to himself? He'd seemed so shaken up before, so afraid. It almost seemed counter-intuitive. I didn't really understand, but I wanted to. Since I'd be going home with him today, I hoped to find out for myself.

Just what makes Charlie Rascal act like a rascal?

I wrote a note to Ikeisha and slid it to her beside me on the desk. I'm going to Charlie's.

Her eyes widened, cheeks pinkening. Sorry Keish. "Why?" she mouthed.

The teacher was busy writing on the board so hopefully she wouldn't notice us sneaking messages and communicating during class.

Something happened, I wrote.

"What?" she mouthed as her brows furrowed into worried lines.

I don't know yet. I want to find out.

She pursed her glossy lips and nodded. Keish was by far the prettiest and most glamorous girl in school. It was different seeing her have a crush on somebody; it didn't happen often. The last one she ever talked about was a few years ago, before my crash. It's strange to think that now, after all this time, the person she'd end up liking was none other than Charlie Rascal.

Someone who's gay. Someone who likes me.

I was going to have to tell her the truth, at least about my side of things. But when would be the right time? Was there even a right time? I glanced at the closed classroom door, knowing Charlie would be standing idly outside of it. Alone with his thoughts out there. What would he be thinking? What would he be feeling? What if Donovan or Jesse caught him out there and we didn't know?

The thought made me clamor up from my chair, making my chair slide and drawing the class's attention towards me.

"Yes, Mr. Keats?" the teacher said, looking me at me expectedly. "Something you wanted to share?"

I looked around the room, barely meeting Ikeisha's eyes as she looked up at me in surprise.

"I need the bathroom," I muttered and headed straight for the door.

If something happened to Charlie out there, we wouldn't even know. He could be hurt again, all by himself. The moment I swung the door open, I saw Charlie flinch from where he stood against the wall. He looked at me with surprise, then let out a deep breath. Seeing him safe and somewhat settled, I was able to relax.

"Sorry," I mumbled, closing the door quietly behind me. "Didn't mean to startle you."

He grinned easily, too easily, and wriggled his eyebrows teasingly. "What's wrong? Did'ya miss me?"

"No," I grumbled, staring at the floor.

Maybe I had no reason to worry. I was probably overthinking and projecting my own fears and insecurities onto him instead. Well, at least he was okay. He started humming to himself and leaned his head against the wall, looking up to the ceiling while his weight was supported by his head alone. He swung a little, then hauled himself back upright.

He was really fidgety.

"Something up?" he asked, dazing at me curiously. His eyes were so dark and intense, I realized I hadn't really noticed it in a little while. Maybe I wasn't imagining it. I could see the weight he carried through his darkened gaze.

"Nothing," I said, turning back to the class door. Now that I knew he was fine, there was no use lingering around. "See you when the bell goes."

*

Charlie stared at the ground for most of the way to his house, with only short bursts of energy and saying random stuff I didn't get. But for the most part, he seemed listless; despondent. Did the Dean really contact his parents in the end? Did he know he was about to be in trouble? Maybe that's why he wanted me there with him.

But even as we got here, he seemed hesitant to walk through his door.

"You all good?" I asked.

His head snapped up towards me in surprise. "Huh? Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

I shrugged as he opened the door and went inside. It didn't look like anyone was home yet. His mum probably finished later at around the same time as mine since they work together. We went straight to his bedroom, which was way smaller than mine. His bed was a double, with its head pressed against the wall.

At its end was a desk with a small space to walk between, and a built-in cupboard with a single sliding door. I guess the tiny space worked for a small guy like him. I tried to imagine Ben or Trey getting around inside of here. They'd probably knock their sides on his computer desk just by walking through that space. The thought made me chuckle, reminding me how lucky I was to get the master bedroom out of everyone in my family.

Charlie slumped down on his bed and stared at the ceiling. He briefly lifted his head and smiled at me before gesturing for me to join him. No sooner than I laid down beside him, his bedroom door opened. We both bolted upright with surprise, not that we were caught doing anything, and I watched his mum barge inside.

"What in God's name is the matter with you, Charlie?" she asked. "I get what, a week or two of peace and then of course I get a call from your Dean."

I glanced at his mum; Vivienne, I think her name was, and saw her every feeling of anger and disappointment written across her face. Was that a look he got from her often? It felt awkward enough for me just to see it, I couldn't imagine how it felt like to be on the receiving end of it. She barely opened her mouth again before noticing me beside him. Her brows raised in surprise.

"Aubrey. I didn't notice you there for a moment, sorry," she said, then turned her attention back to Charlie. "You, come down and speak with me right now."

Instead of listening to his mum, he lay back on the bed and rolled over so that he was facing away from me. "I don't want to," he mumbled.

"Charlie, your brother is going to be here in less than ten minutes. If you don't tell me exactly what you were thinking beforehand then so help me God-"

This was difficult to witness. Whatever was going on in Charlie's head, wasn't this out of character for him? He didn't seem like the rebellious type. Rowdy and energetic, sure, but not one to defy his mum from what I'd seen of him. Couldn't she tell? He's her own son, why wasn't she picking up on that?

Maybe that's why he wanted me here. Maybe he just wanted some help.

"Um," I cut her off, "I need the toilet. Can you show me where it is?"

I let my eyes linger on hers for just a moment too long, hoping she'd catch my drift and walk me out of here. "Alright," she sighed. "Follow me."

When we left his room, I slowly closed the door behind us, watching him remain still on his bed facing away from us. She seemed to have cottoned on because she led me into their loungeroom and offered me a seat. Was this what he meant by bringing me here? Would he be upset?

"Is there something you wanted to tell me?" Mrs. Rascal asked. She looked a lot older than my mum, maybe by ten or so years. More tired. Exhausted. Her ashy blonde hair looked partially unkempt as if she'd been in a rush, while the bags and dark circles in her eyes hinted to her exhaustion.

"Yes, um, please don't be mad at Charlie," I said, wondering what message I wanted to get across and how I should say it. "It would be good if you would listen to him first."

"How can I listen if he won't get up and speak to me?" she asked, leaning her elbow on the table and slumping her shoulders first. She collected hair in her fingers, pulling and twirling it in her fingers.

"But I think you can listen to the things he won't say," I say, but figured that probably didn't make much sense. "Because I think something bad happened and he won't talk about it. He said he would, but he seemed to change his mind at the last minute in front of the Dean."

"How much do you know?" she asked, frowning. Her voice was relatively low and hoarse. "What did you see?"

"Nothing, really," I said, but quickly panicked when she sighed and looked like she was about to get up. "But I found him in the bathroom at school with blood in his mouth. When I tried to take him to the sickbay, he said it's not his blood."

Mrs. Rascal's eyes slowly widened. "Whose was it?"

"His name's Jesse Atkinson. We first came across him in that fight on Wednesday. He was there, and Charlie just told me he felt him up back then. This time he started spouted off some crap about me before walking out."

"Felt... him up?"

I nodded. "Jesse's a huge creep and probably gets away with everything just because he's the Principal's son, and-"

She looked shocked. "The Principal's son?" she asked. "No wonder he won't... say anything."

There was a knock at the front door and Mrs. Rascal shot up from her seat. She wiped her eyes and plastered on a false smile for me. "Thanks, Aubrey. I'll deal with this. You head back on up and spend some time with him."

I nodded and got up just as she opened the door. A tall older guy came in carrying a brief case and kissed her on the top of her head. "Hi Mum."

Charlie's brother? But he was so much... older. Never mind that. Now that I told her what I knew, and it was pretty obvious what we can deduct from that, was she going to go up and talk to Charlie about it? Would she console him and promise that she'd make that guy pay? I watched as she ushered her older son inside and headed straight for the jug.

"I'll pop on the kettle for you," she said as she held it over the sink and poured water from the tap. "Would you like tea or coffee?"

Would she settle her other son in and then go up? Would she send me home so that she could have a proper heart to heart and offer her love and support? Promise to protect him? Tell him everything would be okay?

"Coffee thanks," the son replied, coming over to the table. He glanced at me and gave me a brief hello before sitting down and pulling his briefcase open in front of him. "How's work these days? Things still going smoothly?"

"It gets busy sometimes," she said as she pottered away in the kitchen, then followed up with a giggle. "Or maybe I'm just aging quicker than I thought."

She had no intention of going up and being there for her hurting son. Maybe this was the real reason he wanted me to be here. A mother who was quick to get angry and disappointed, but slow to care for and protect her child. Was this the real reason Charlie acted like a clown in class? Acted up in general?

I turned away and stormed up the stairs, even though I could feel both Mrs. Rascal's and the older son's eyes on me from the back of my head. If she wouldn't be there for Charlie, then I would. The thought made me so angry. Why would someone make their child feel alone? How could he speak up and be honest if she was so quick to shut him down before giving him a chance to even open his mouth?

What was that doing to him?

I charged into his bedroom and almost slammed the door behind me. Charlie startled upright and looked at me, shocked. "Is it windy? Why'd the door slam?"

I moved straight to the bed and all but hovered over him before pulling him against me. He didn't waste time putting his arms around me either, and before any time passed at all, our lips were locked, and our fingers ran through each other's hair. There was no way it was okay to leave him alone like this. If he ever asked me to stay with him like this again, no matter what, I'd be by his side.

*

It was getting late and Charlie's brother had already left some time ago. Charlie seemed to go quiet when we heard their muffled laughing, making me wonder what the situation was between them. He must see his brother often if he didn't come in to see him. But why did he go so quiet? Were they fighting? A full-grown adult man... fighting with Charlie?

We had dinner with his family. It felt tense, but I think don't think Mr. and Mrs. Rascal even noticed the way Charlie was acting. His mum didn't bring up the Dean again, and they just asked me some polite questions and talked about their days. His dad did have some offhand dad jokes and seemed like a pretty funny guy, but I found it weird how he thought nothing of Charlie's apathetic participation over dinner.

He perked up again when we came back to his room. With a slow and almost seductive look at me up and down he asked, "Should we get you something to wear then?"

I nodded and accepted a yellow tank top and what looked like stretchy short shorts. It was too awkward to leave his room, so I made him face away from me on the bed while I changed by the door. I hadn't noticed the Pikachu print on the shirt until it was on, but it was so tight around my body and barely reached my midriff. Pulling it down didn't help and I was too worried about stretching it.

Did it really fit Charlie?

The shorts were so tight that if they were black, they'd almost pass for a gimp suit. Not only that, but half my pubic bone was exposed. There was no way I could let him see me like this. My face flushed at the idea of being seen like this. Our height difference was way too extreme. I'd have to text Mum or Dad to bring me some pajamas over instead.

"Don't..." I said, but my voice came out as a quiet squeak. I cleared my throat and continued, "Turn around."

"Turn around?" he repeated. "Okay."

"Wait, no!" I spun around quickly, realizing too late what I'd just done.

Charlie looked me up and down in astonishment. "Suits you better than I thought."

"Shut up," I grumbled and snatched my uniform back up. "Turn back around."

He burst out into a laugh and tried to snatch my uniform away from me. "No, no. Don't change. It looks great, I promise you."

"I will beat you up," I said.

But his target switched from my uniform to my waist, and suddenly I was sprawled on the bed beneath him. He had dark, hungry eyes while they roamed the entire length of my body. I wanted to crawl into a mortuary furnace and die. But he leaned forward and kissed me, smiling tenderly down at me.

"Don't you know?" he asked in a gentle whisper. "You're beautiful."

He brought his head down to my collarbone and left a trail of kisses along to my shoulder, then back to my lips. It just about set me on fire. I ran my fingers through his hair and held him against me while his body lowered and settled comfortably on top of mine. But he didn't do anything more after that. He slumped down against me and buried his head in my neck, which I'd occasionally feel him leave a kiss.

My arms moved on their own, wrapping around him and holding him firmly against me. The pressure on top of me felt so warm and secure that I could almost pull out my hearing aid and fall asleep just like this. His slightly scrunched uniform shirt had given my hand easy access to trail up his back and stroke his skin, while my other hand stroked his hair.

He let out a content sigh as he drifted off to sleep.

Just like this, I did the same.