by Renny Abbas
The dreams were terrible. He woke up screaming once, twice, three times a night. Only now it was just him he could see in the dream. He saw Toby, every night, ripped to shreds and he heard Finn’s voice screaming.
Every morning he got up dazed, exhausted, and barely human. The only thing he was aware of was keeping his distance from Finn. He took the long way to work so as not to pass the flower store. He ordered food from places that were miles away that he had to drive to. He didn’t get coffee from Krista. He didn’t walk to the park. And he avoided looking at the flowers on his windowsill.
As Saturday drew closer, Charlie barely left the house. Work was the only thing he went to. Otherwise, he stayed in his room and fought off the sleep that threatened to claim him. He hated the dreams. He hated Toby. He hated himself. He hated those damned flowers on the windowsill. Their leaves were probably starting to brown. He needed new ones. But he wouldn’t get them. He couldn’t. Those daises and those roses and bush honeysuckle would wilt away and die and nothing would replace them. Because he couldn’t go back to Finn’s store. And he certainly couldn’t go anywhere else. It wouldn’t be the same.
Those were the thoughts that swam through his head as the hours ticked by and evening gave way to night and midnight came and went. And somewhere in all that time and thinking, Charlie fell asleep, too exhausted to keep fighting. He didn’t dream. Everything was just darkness and deep, deep silence. And he drifted through it, completely unaware, like he was floating through space.
Then, a loud buzzing cut through the black and he jerked awake to his apartment buzzer cutting through to his room. He looked over to the clock on his bedside table groggily. Midday. It was Saturday. And he hadn’t gone to the flower store.
He flopped down into his pillows with a sigh and threw an arm over his eyes but then the buzzer sounded again and he groaned before heavily getting to his feet. He stumbled to the door and hit the button to open the door, not bothering to check who it was.
Less than a minute later, there was a quiet knock on the door and Charlie, slightly more awake now, opened it. And what he saw left him completely speechless.
Finn.
Finn with a bouquet of purple roses and nothing else.
Finn with no cocky smile, no glittering eyes, nothing but that open and kind face.
“Hi,” He said.
Charlie could only stare.
“I would have called,” Finn continued, “but I never actually got your number.”
“It – It’s okay,” Charlie mumbled.
“Can I come in?”
Charlie nodded slowly and stepped back, not once taking his eyes off Finn. Surely, he was dreaming. Surely, he had just fallen back asleep again and this was some cruel trick of his tired mind. Finn was gone. Finn was keeping his distance. Finn didn’t want to see Charlie. And yet, Finn was there. With flowers which he then placed in the vase on the windowsill, after removing the old ones.
“What, um, what are you doing here?” Charlie asked. “I thought you – you needed –“
Finn sighed and turned back to Charlie.
“I haven’t stopped thinking about you all week,” He said bluntly. “I’ve thought about everything. More than I probably should have. More than what’s healthy. But I have. And I… well, I only have one thing to say to be honest.”
At that point, Finn made his way back across the room towards Charlie. And he came close. Closer than Charlie was expecting and he took a hesitant step back. And Finn smiled gently.
“Charlie,” he murmured, and he paused, visibly struggling with the thoughts in his head, something that Charlie recognised, “I – I really just want you to know something.”
“What is it?” Charlie said, bracing for the worst. He had no idea what to expect. He was still half certain this was a dream. But he could feel Finn’s breath on his skin and the warmth of his body. It felt so real. “Tell me.”
Finn looked him dead in the eye and wrapped his hands around Charlie’s upper arms.
“I really need you to hear me when I say this, okay?” He said and Charlie nodded. Finn squeezed his arms. “Listen – it’s not your fault Toby died.”
Charlie just blinked.
“What?”
“It’s not your fault.”
“You – what?”
“Listen to me Charlie, it’s not your fault Toby died. How the hell were you supposed to know what would happen? It’s not your fault.”
“Finn, I –“
“No. Listen. It is not your fault. Okay?” There were tears in Finn’s eyes and Charlie felt a lump rise in his throat. He had never heard someone say those words. Ever. And Finn could tell. “I wanted to blame you. I really did. But the more I thought it over, the more I realised I couldn’t. Because it wasn’t your fault. You did nothing wrong. Do you hear me?”
Charlie didn’t know what to say. He was so completely exhausted. And his dreams haunted him with Toby’s laughing eyes. But he felt like a huge weight was slowly being heaved from his shoulders and his lungs took in long shuddering breaths. Tears fell and his shoulders shook and he had no words. All he could do was look at the man in front of him and nod, before wrapping a hand around the back of his head and kissing him with every bit of energy he had left in his body.
The End
