[upper east side] pink moon, light the darkest room | charlie

Charlie stared at her, his nostrils flaring softly with the depth of his breaths -- through his nose, rather than his mouth, which was firmly pressed in a hard line -- as he was trying, above all else, to remain calm. But being told that he no longer had autonomy or ownership of his own name didn’t sit well with him. That’s not how it works, he wanted to say, but was he right to think so? How did it all work?

“I’m not putting anything in your mouth,” he retorted, a distant part of his consciousness aware that only a few months ago, in a different environment, in a different situation, those words would be mutually smirked at for their suggestiveness. Here, now, he was too irate to recognise it. Had his feelings towards and around her shifted so drastically in such a short time?

Yes and no, but he couldn’t let on that he still loved her. Those feelings might go away someday, but it was all too fresh for them to not still be there, and all the more reason to fervently deny their existence. And what reason did he possibly have to no longer love her? She hadn’t done anything other than make a move to protect herself. Wasn’t that why he’d gone along with it?

“Neither do you,” he snapped, moving from behind the counter and almost tripping over the cat in the process. He half-huffed, half-sighed, mostly to himself, and stepped around her (mad at her now too, for ruining his dramatic storming off). “Accuse me of fucking some woman and acting like I wanted to be photographed with her,” he murmured under his breath, not really talking to Kate so much as wanting to reaffirm his own feelings about it all. Give himself some reason to get closer to not feeling.

He spun on the spot to look at her, considered taking the opportunity to take the last few strides towards the door and end this before it turned into a mudslinging match -- but he was too proud to let her have the last word; she’d had that last time and it had eaten away at him since. “Fine, don’t fucking tell me,” he said irritably, unreasonably. “Just remember I don’t have to tell you anything either,” he said, sounding more and more like a petulant child. “Whether it’s shit you read in the papers or whatever the fuck you dream up in your head.”

He waited a moment, shoulders tight, before deciding maybe he would just leave. No goodbye, he turned and walked to the door and let himself out with a soft slam.


OUT

Kate’s irritation with Charlie and distress that this might be the last time they saw each other for a long while were interrupted by Simon’s (again) untimely appearance. Her shoulders hunched forward slightly and she tried not to laugh by pressing her lips together tightly. He didn’t seem to be paying close attention right at that second, so she was thankful it would probably fly under the radar. Good kitty, she thought in her head as hard as she could, in case her kitten, for some reason, could telepathically hear her. He ought to be knocked down a few pegs. Kate surprised herself thinking like that.

Some woman, huh? An irritating surge of relief and confidence coming from the wrong places flooded Kate’s veins. One half of her brain was preoccupied with how he’d always love her, and the other half was consumed with the idea that maybe he never had and that was why they were here now, in this mess. She didn’t know which would help her move on more or which was more comforting for her distressed brain and aching heart, but only time would tell that, she supposed.

The last thing she was going to do was yell back and engage this kind of behavior. She’d stood up for herself adequately, and now the only way to act was solid. Kate would stand here and let him if he wanted to walk out, and he was headed that way fast. The fear of crying sat on her shoulders in front of him. It would become more than a fear once the door closed behind him. That was the fear itself: that it would inevitably become more than one.

“I know you don’t.” She told him with no hint of crease in her brow. Wished, though? Yes. She wished that he had told her. Told her so many things, so much earlier. The door shut soundly after him and Kate sank to her knees with the softest thud, resting her face in her palms.

The door shut, and her heart opened wide.