Charlie pulls the blanket back up and whispers, "Loves . . . His name was Rupert. He was like you. Exquisite. Perfect. More like a man than a boy. The sun rose for him--birds sang, traffic stopped.
"His mum caught us kissing and freaked out. He was sent off. Didn't see him again for--oh, three or four years, and when I did he treated me like someone he'd barely known."
He sighs. "But by then I was very cynical and experimental. No love for Charlie--just everything else. Groupies--they can be a lot of fun, if that's what you want."
"She'd laugh. Oh, my mum was great. She was--vibrant, you know? She came to every show. She bought me my first guitar. She was so proud of us when the single hit." He stops and sighs, and kisses Bartleby more.
"Yeah." More and more kisses, sweet and full. "She died before it all fell apart. I'm--I'm kind of glad for that. I'd've hated for her to see how Liam and I fought, towards the end of it. She wanted us to look after each other."
"Yeah." He gets to his feet, rather reluctant but aware of the numbness in his extremities. "What do you know. You got me to talk about my family after all."
"Indeed," Charlie murmurs and picks up the thermos. He puts his arm around Bartleby's waist and kisses him. "Or you're just so easy to talk to. Or I want to tell you everything."
no subject
"And he loved me back."
no subject
no subject
He sighs. "But by then I was very cynical and experimental. No love for Charlie--just everything else. Groupies--they can be a lot of fun, if that's what you want."
He kisses Bartleby's mouth again.
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
[ooc: finish?]
no subject
[ooc: finish]
no subject