AT AGE FIFTEEN Charlie Martin is still trying to find his place in the world. He's in that awkward in between stage where he can't decide if he wants to kiss girls or run away from them. He's taller than most of his year, lanky, and walks with his head bowed, as if he's not quite comfortable in his body. At age fifteen Charlie still isn't sure what he wants from life.
AT AGE SEVENTEEN Finn Sullivan is the life of the party, the centre of attention. He's at that stage where it feels like he's going to live forever, that he can do anything and not have to worry about the consequences. He's got an easy smile, muscular arms, eyes that gleam whenever he laughs. All the girls are falling for him, he's falling for all the boys. At age eighteen Finn doesn't think he's ever been happier.
It's October, three years ago. Charlie's house, Matthew's party.
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It's the kind of party where everything sticks. The countertops covered in spilt drinks and bodies glistening with sweat. It's the kind of party that gets the rumour mill turning. The kind of party made just for secret kisses.
Summer has ended and everyone knows it. For some, it's a celebration of the arrival of their last year. For some it's a party to signify the end of a chapter. For some, it feels like just the beginning. A chance to start afresh. Charlie's brother Matthew is in the latter group. Charlie is desperately trying to pretend that he's not jealous of that fact.
It's the kind of party where everyone puts aside their differences for just one night. Where hatchets are buried, arguments forgotten. It's the kind of party where everyone is happy, where there's a feeling in the air that suggests that anything could happen, that anything is possible.
For one night everyone feels immortal.
Charlie isn't usually allowed to come to the parties. Tonight is different, Charlie's been begging to come to one for months and even Matthew couldn't find a reason to say no this time.
He grabs a bottle of cider off the side. Matt can't be mad at him for one bottle.
Charlie's not enjoying the party as much as he thought he might. He feels disjointed, like he's trying to play a role that he didn't even want to audition for. It might be something to do with the fact that Charlie is the youngest person there. It's more likely that it's to do with the fact that everyone else is celebrating the fact that they've only got a year till freedom when Charlie has only just realised he's in shackles.
Everybody else seems more alive than they ever have been before. It's almost infectious, for a moment Charlie feels like he could be someone else just for a night. Someone braver, someone more honest.
But right now Charlie feels more like a spectator than a participant.
Finn is dancing in the back garden when Charlie spots him. He's all confidence and mischievous smiles. Charlie wants to say something to him but his step falters, he can't seem to find his voice. And so Charlie says nothing, just sits down on one of the rickety patio chairs and watches. Contents himself with being here.
He so desperately wants to be someone else, but he's not sure who.
Finn's still dancing, bottle raised high up in the air as he jumps on the beat. Charlie's gaze tracks Finn as he moves across the garden, as he talks to whoever calls his name. Charlie can't tear his eyes away. There's something about Finn, there always has been.
Charlie's gaze drops when Finn catches him looking. His cheeks heat, palms sweat. He's been caught, and he's not sure what happens next. Charlie has spent a worrying time watching Finn, for reasons unbeknownst to even himself. It's not purposeful, it's more that Charlie zones out, and when his reverie ends he finds Finn in front of him and then he can't look away. Charlie blames it on intrigue; Finn is just so different from everyone else in this town. He's confident, a leader. He's the only person Charlie knows who's happy to announce to the world that he likes guys, is happy if everyone knows.
That's the whole reason Finn's not allowed round anymore. Except on nights like this, nights when Charlie's dad is out of town and Matthew throws parties. Nights that Charlie isn't usually a part of.
He is tonight, and he wants to make the most of it. He's just not sure how.
"Hey Charlie!" Finn calls his name.
Charlie feels as if his whole body stands on edge. He's not sure how respond. Perhaps Finn's going to call him out in front of everyone.
"Yeah?" Charlie's voice is weak.
"Come dance," Finn's is strong.
At first Charlie feels the reluctance pulling him back. The nervousness telling him to say no. And then Charlie registers Finn's friendly smile, the daring glint in his eyes and Charlie thinks fuck it.
Charlie has never been to a party like this before, his are usually composed of soft drinks and fruit juice, sandwiches cut into little triangles and sausage rolls, terrible top forty hits playing over crackly speakers. They're never like this, there's never people clutching bottles of beer, never a thumping bass beat quaking the ground beneath him. There's never a boy holding a hand out towards him, easy smile tugging at his features. Charlie never feels breathless.
The question is how to dance at a party like this; the solution seems to be to copy everyone else. Repetitive jumps up and down, fists pumping into the air, sweaty bodies pressed closed together.
Finn offers an encouraging smile, a slightly patronising thumbs up.
For the first time tonight Charlie feels like he belongs at this party, feels like he's someone else. He returns Finn's smile. The smile doesn't quite seem to fit his face right, but he tries it on, like it's a new item of clothing.
The music surrounds them and Charlie is starting to understand it. Is starting to learn why people dance like this at parties like this. Is starting to understand how it makes them feel so awake, makes the blood zip through their veins and their heartbeat sing, marching in time to the beat beneath them. Charlie is dancing and he's starting to feel like he never wants to stop. He's lost in a daze, and the only thing anchoring him is Finn's shoulder pressed against his.
Somewhere in the hoard of bodies dancing, Finn's hand slips into Charlie's.
At first Charlie feels like he should pull away, that's what anybody else would do. But Charlie quite likes the reassuring way that Finn's fingers are threaded with is. The way that their bodies are connected in the most innocent of ways. Charlie quite likes feeling like Finn doesn't want him to leave.
Charlie's eyebrows raise slightly when his gaze meets Finn's, a question without words. Finn offers no explanation, his smile simply grows a little wider, the glint in his eyes becomes a little more daring. Challenging Charlie to let go.
Charlie always loves a challenge.
The two of them are dancing. They're surrounded by people, their hands hidden. Charlie is glad, he doesn't want to know what everyone would say.
Finn's just one boy in a group of what seems like hundreds but Charlie notices everything he does. Every jump, every breath. Everyone else is fading into the background, fading into insignificance and Charlie has no idea why.
Finn has always stood out. He's different from everyone else in this town, announces it rather than hides it. He's always stood out, but never quite this much.
Charlie's watching him, like he has done numerous times before. But this time, Finn's watching him back. It's strange; neither of them appears to want to look away first. Charlie can feel Finn's gaze searing his skin, can feel his eyes on him as if it's a fire burning him away to nothing but ash.
For the first time tonight Charlie feels immortal too. Like tonight is the night where he can do anything and not have to worry about the consequences. Tonight feels like a night for taking risks, for finally figuring out what the hell he wants. Tonight feels like the kind of night to do something risky and dangerous. Tonight feels like the kind of night where Charlie might finally figure out who the hell Finn really is.
Of course Charlie has heard snippets of gossip, has even had brief conversations with the boy in question before now. But Charlie gets the feeling that Finn shows people different parts of himself, but that no-one ever really gets the true Finn. Not even Matthew. And Matthew is Finn's best friend.
Thoughts of Matthew send Charlie's gaze searching for the boy in question. Charlie hates to think what Matthew would make of this scene. His brother and best friend holding hands, sharing looks that singe at the skin.
Finn seems unaware of Charlie's wandering thoughts, but he seems to be aware he hasn't got Charlie's full attention. He squeezes, applying a light pressure to Charlie's hand, enough to capture Charlie's attention once again.
This feels more dangerous than anything ever has before. These knowing glances as they dance, this secret touching. Charlie isn't sure what any of it means but he's just as afraid of stopping it as he is of letting it continue.
"You okay?"
Charlie can't tell if Finn is shouting or whispering but either way Charlie hears him loud and clear though no-one else appears to turn their head.
"Fine," Charlie shouts, he's not sure he'll be heard over the music otherwise.
Finn smiles wickedly, before jumping madly when the song reaches its chorus. Limbs flailing as Finn begins an air guitar solo that puts everyone else's enthusiasm to shame.
"I love this song," Finn says.
It's almost as if he's confiding that bit of information to Charlie, he says it as if it's a secret that only he and Charlie know.
Charlie simply nods in response.
He's so caught up in tonight. So confused by the fact that Finn is actually talking to him, seems to care that Charlie is having a good time, that he has absolutely no idea how to respond.
"Come on," Finn says, gesturing towards the house, "you need another drink."
Charlie's not entirely certain that that's a good idea. Matt told him not to drink anything and he's already had one bottle. The last thing Charlie wants to do is piss off Matt when his brother has only just started inviting him to these parties.
Finn can obviously sense the indecision on Charlie's face.
"Fine," Finn begins to correct himself, "I need another drink."
Of course Charlie knows that Finn doesn't need assistance to get himself another drink but dancing doesn't feel the same if he's not dancing with him and so Charlie follows him into the kitchen. Finn has dropped Charlie's hand, but that doesn't stop it from feeling like there's an invisible tether between them.
"So how's your first party?" Finn asks as he tries to locate the bottle opener.
"It's good," Charlie replies honestly.
Finn's eyes scan Charlie's face as if to look for any sign that Charlie is lying. Charlie watches as his eyes flicker with indecision and as he chews on his bottom lip. Caught between two possibilities, not entirely sure which one to choose.
"You should have come to one before," Finn says eventually.
"Matt wouldn't let me."
"Of course he wouldn't."
This time when the gaze meets there's something different about Finn's expression. He appears to have made his mind up, and when Charlie looks away, he can still feel Finn's eyes on him.
"I'm glad he let me come to this one," Charlie tells Finn when the silence feels like it's getting too heavy, when Charlie feels like he might choke on his words if he doesn't say something.
"I'm glad he let you come too."
There's something secretive in Finn's words, something he's not saying, something Charlie feels like he's meant to know. Charlie's never been very good at reading between the lines though; he's always preferred facts to be laid out in front of him rather than meant for him to find.
When Finn begins to leave the room without a word Charlie isn't sure what to do. He doesn't particularly want to follow Finn around like a lost puppy but he doesn't want to become a spectator once again either. But Finn is leaving and Charlie doesn't want to annoy him by following behind.
Finn turns in the doorway to face Charlie.
"Are you coming or what?"
Charlie hurries after Finn. Their hands brush this time, and somehow it feels intimate than when they were holding hands before. Finn offers Charlie a smile.
The party's in full swing, people seem to be everywhere and all of them seem to want to talk to Finn. Charlie stands back, not quite part of the conversation, not completely detached from it either. Finn is in his element, wide smiles, energetic hand gestures. This is the Finn Charlie is used to seeing, the Finn whose smile doesn't hide secrets, the Finn that Charlie aspires to be. Confident, unique, a born leader, no time for doubt.
This is the Finn that was born to rule the world.
This isn't the Finn that was just holding his hand, the Finn that seemingly couldn't make up his mind. They're two different sides to the same boy, two different masks available whenever Finn needs them.
Finn never talks to anyone for that long. A quick hello, a brief chat and then he's off, onto the next person.
He keeps on throwing apologetic looks over his shoulder in Charlie's general direction. But Charlie doesn't mind, he's just glad that someone at this party doesn't mind spending time with him. Glad that he finally feels like he's part of it.
"Come on," Finn urges.
They're heading up the stairs now, Charlie has no idea where they're headed but he doesn't care. It's as if his entire house looks different when Finn is leading him through it. And there's definitely something different about it tonight. Whether it's the boy or the party or just Charlie, Charlie doesn't know. But he does know there's something humming through his veins that feels like adrenaline and it's making his head spin and his heart race.
It's Finn, Charlie concludes. There's something about the other boy that changes everything. That makes everything brighter, more exciting. Charlie has no idea what it is, has no idea why he's even hanging out with Finn tonight, but he's enjoying it.
Finn heads towards Charlie's bedroom and Charlie nearly reminds Finn that it's off limits for party-goers. Then Charlie remembers that it's his own bedroom, and therefore he's probably allowed in it.
"Uh, it's kind of messy," Charlie says as Finn pushes open the door.
Finn takes a quick glance around the room before replying.
"You're pretty good compared to your brother," Finn replies with a crooked smile, "his room's a tip."
"That it is," Charlie agrees.
He's not sure what else to say, he's not sure which words to choose to bridge the gap that seems to have formed between them.
Charlie isn't exactly unsociable but there's something about Finn that makes all the words stick. They've had conversations before, brief exchanges of words whilst Matthew is in the shower, quick chats over food. They say hello if they see each other in the corridor but never anything more. So to be stood here, alone, in Charlie's bedroom, is strange.
"Your first party's always a weird one," Finn says.
He's pacing Charlie's room, fingers running over every surface. He pauses every so often to examine something closer, a souvenir from their trip to Paris when Charlie was seven, a certificate for 100% attendance that Charlie hasn't gotten round to throwing out, a picture of Charlie and Matthew from their mum's wedding last year.
"You either get too drunk or not drunk enough," Finn elaborates, "personally I think you haven't drunk enough."
The comment is accompanied by a small smirk, mischievous, daring, electrifying.
"Matthew said I wasn't allowed to drink," Charlie replies.
"He probably has a point," Finn says, "you're fifteen, plenty of time left to pass out at parties."
"Is that what you're planning on doing tonight?"
"Passing out?"
"Yeah."
"No way," Finn tells Charlie, "I have other plans for tonight, ones that won't go ahead if I'm busy being unconscious."
"What kind of plans?"
"Ones that you don't need to know about."
Finn taps his nose, offers Charlie a secretive smile. Their hands brush when Finn moves behind him, examining Charlie's bookshelf.
"You read comics?"
"Yeah."
Charlie seems to be incapable of offering detailed answers. He feels short of breath, dizzy. Charlie's spent so long watching Finn, challenging himself not to feel a certain way, that being this close to him - their skin touching - almost hurts. It's like a searing pain running through his veins, an electric shock passed from Finn to him.
Charlie tries not to let it show on his face.
"I used to read these," Finn says, holding up Hawkeye, "they were great."
"Why did you stop?"
Finn simply shrugs.
"I don't know."
It's weird, how well Finn seems to fit in with the clutter of Charlie's room. Charlie's always thought it strange that Finn always appears like he belongs in Charlie's home more than Charlie himself does.
Charlie can feel a question bubbling up inside of him, threatening to erupt.
"Hey Finn," Charlie says.
"Yeah?"
"Why are you up here with me? I mean there's a whole party going on down there," Charlie gestures towards the stairs, "and yet you're up here looking through my comic collection. It hardly seems like much of a competition. You don't have to spend time with me cause you feel sorry for me."
"Do you not want me here?" Finn asks.
It sounds almost like a challenge. Like he already knows the answer and is daring Charlie to say it.
Charlie almost chokes on the words as he says them.
"No," Charlie replies, "I want you here."
Finn smiles wickedly.
"You know I catch you watching me sometimes," Finn tells Charlie.
Charlie can feel all the air leave his lungs, because Finn is not supposed to know. Charlie knows that it's strange how often he finds himself looking at Finn, knows that it's not normal. Charlie doesn't know why he does it.
"I used to think you were one of those people that looked at me cause they thought I was cool," Finn says, "or because they found me different, I mean there's no one else like me around here. I'm the only non-white, non-straight individual for a good few miles and so yeah, people stare. But not like you."
"What do you mean," Charlie's voice is weak, barely more than a whisper.
"You watch me like I used to watch the captain of the rugby team at my old school," Finn says casually, "you watch me like you think I'm cute."
Charlie blushes.
"I don't think you're cute."
"Hot then? Attractive? Handsome? Which adjective would you rather I use?"
"I don't think you're any of those things."
But deep down Charlie knows he does, knows that there's a reason he stares at Finn, knows there's a reason his heart is racing right now and his palms are beginning to sweat. But he can't think Finn is cute or hot or attractive or handsome. Charlie doesn't want to think of the repercussions if he does.
The panic is clearly obvious on Charlie's face as Finn moves a little closer, a reassuring hand placed on Charlie's arm.
"Charlie, hey, it's okay to feel that way you know."
And maybe it's okay for Finn to feel that way. Maybe in another life it's okay for Charlie to feel that way. But there's a reason Finn's not allowed in the house, and so there's a reason that it's not okay for Charlie to feel that way.
"It's not okay," Charlie replies, "you know why."
"He's wrong, you know that right?"
Charlie nods but his hands are trembling. Because what if he's not?
"He is," Finn says more forcefully this time, "you really think I'm gonna go to hell because I'd rather kiss a boy than a girl? You really think you are?"
"I don't want to kiss boys."
The lie is poisonous on Charlie's tongue and the tears are fresh on Charlie's face. And all Charlie wants is for Finn to leave and for Finn to stay. He wants Finn to hold him close and tell him everything is going to be okay. But because Charlie wants that, he knows that things aren't going to be okay. Never.
Finn's hands are on Charlie's face now, trying to wipe away the furious tears. His thumb swiping Charlie's cheek, down Charlie's jaw all the way to his chin until Finn is lifting Charlie's face up to look at him.
"Fine," Finn says, "it's okay if you don't, but it's okay if you do."
"How did you know?"
"How did I know what?"
"That you were," Charlie has to force the last word out, it burns his throat and his mouth and his tongue, "gay."
"I looked at a guy one day and thought how nice it would be to kiss him, then looked at a girl and thought how much I didn't want to kiss her and I just knew."
"You make it sound simple."
"It is, if you want it to be. You've just got to figure out what you want."
"Oh."
"Actually," Finn says, "scratch that. The figuring out is the easy part, it's the going for what you want that's the hard part. It took me a year after I figured out that I wanted to kiss a guy to tell a guy that I actually wanted to kiss him."
"And?"
"I kissed him and he was the worst kisser ever. Too much saliva, too much tongue."
Charlie's nose wrinkles and Finn laughs.
The tears have stopped now but Charlie is still in awe about how casually Finn can talk about all of this. As if he's not scared, as if the thought of kissing a boy isn't absolutely terrifying. As if knowing what you want and going for it is as simple as waking up.
"Go on then," Finn prompts.
"What?"
"What do you want? I'm guessing you know, so say it out loud, no-one else is here to hear you tell me. It's as good a time as any."
The words clog in Charlie's throat.
"I can't."
Finn winds Charlie's fingers through his, tugs him closer. And then Finn's tilting his head, moving his face ever so slowly closer to Charlie's.
"Tell me what you want," Finn says, his voice just a little bit breathless.
Charlie stays silent. He's terrified right now. What if someone finds out? What if this all backfires?
What if Charlie never gets another chance? What if Charlie is left to always wonder what if?
"I want to kiss you," Charlie murmurs.
For a moment Charlie thinks Finn hasn't heard him. The other boy remains silent, and then Finn releases a shaky breath, finally sounding just as nervous as Charlie feels.
"Do it then."
Charlie isn't entirely sure how any of this works. He's kissed a girl once before, in a shoe cupboard for seven minutes in heaven, it was sloppy and messy, hardly enjoyable.
Is kissing boys the same as kissing girls?
Finn doesn't mention Charlie's hesitation, in fact he says nothing, Just keeps his face pressed against Charlie's, gentle breaths causing tendrils of Charlie's hair to move slightly.
Eventually Charlie leans up slightly; the first kiss is feather light, Charlie quickly pulling away.
The room is silent. Inhale, exhale. Charlie reminds himself. Inhale, exhale.
Finn doesn't say anything and Charlie is strangely relieved about that. It's not that Charlie doesn't want him to speak; it's more that Charlie's thoughts are in need of utter silence right now. His mind is whirring, his thoughts still lingering on the momentary press of their lips together. To most people it would hardly be worth obsessing over, just a gentle brush of lips, but to Charlie it's the kind of kiss that has the capability to bring his whole world crashing down. And yet somehow, it's the kind of kiss that Charlie would gladly do over and over again.
Thoughts like that terrify and excite Charlie at the same time.
"See," Finn says after a few moments, his voice a little breathy, "that wasn't too difficult was it."
Their faces are still only inches apart; Charlie could lean in and kiss Finn if he wanted to. He could, he's not sure if he's going to.
"No," Charlie's voice is tentative, quiet, as if if he speaks too loudly the entire moment will be shattered, "it wasn't too difficult."
Finn smiles and all of Charlie's nerves seem to ebb away.
"Well then why don't you do it again?"
Charlie's taken aback by that suggestion. Because it's one thing to kiss a boy once, it could easily be passed off as intrigue or a simple mistake, but twice suggests that Charlie really means it. And he's not sure if he wants to admit that he does.
"Why don't you do it again?" Charlie challenges.
Finn laughs as if Charlie has said something ridiculous and a scowl creases his forehead.
"You know you won't be kissing thin air right," Finn says dryly, "I plan on doing it again. Just kiss me you idiot."
"That's not what I meant," Charlie replies, frustration seeping into his tone, "I mean why don't you kiss me."
"What difference does it make?"
"A huge one."
"Fine then."
Finn doesn't even hesitate. His hands are loped round the back of Charlie's neck and they're pulling Charlie to him. Lips meet, skin brushes, Charlie's hands fumble until they finally come to rest behind Finn's head.
It's the kind of kiss that makes a good secret. All fire, and passion. The kind of kiss that is seared into memories forever. The kind of kiss that fairy tales promise us, a happily ever after written out in a single meeting of the lips. The kind of kiss that little girls dream of and rarely ever get. It's the kind of kiss that could start a war or end one. It's the kind of kiss Charlie has always been terrified of being a part of, the kind of kiss that suggests that there's no turning back.
Finn pulls away, finger brushing against Charlie's cheek.
"Was that enough of a kiss for you?" Finn asks.
There are so many ways that Charlie could reply. 'I don't know, why don't we try it again.' 'Maybe third time's the charm.' But instead all he can do is stare at Finn and stammer. A wordless explanation of how much all this really means.
It seems that it's enough for Finn.
"You're a cutie," Finn murmurs, brushing their lips together once again.
"A cutie?" Charlie stammers.
Charlie has been called a lot of things in his life, but cute is not one of them. Well maybe when he was younger, when he used to come up to people's knees and was getting away with getting in the way. Nowadays there are several other adjectives people would reach for before cute. Awkward, annoying, shy. Anything but cute.
"Yeah," Finn says, "so I'm gonna kiss you again. If that's okay with you?"
The temptation to say no is strong; the word is on the edge of Charlie's tongue. But he can't tear his eyes away from Finn's lips, can hardly think of anything except for how they felt against his, how his fingers would feel against Finn's skin.
"That's fine by me," Charlie eventually manages to spit out.
"Good. That's - ," Finn says, pauses briefly, "that's great."
And then they're lost in each other all over again. Charlie's hands around Finn's neck, Finn's fingers tangled in Charlie's hair. They're kissing each other like the other person is the only supply of oxygen left on earth.
They kiss like no one is watching, and luckily, no one is.
-------------------
There are no more kisses that year.
And when the summer comes around again, it's a warm haze of endings and beginnings. Matt's last summer at home, Charlie's last summer to see Finn.
There are still no kisses.
The pair of them barely speak. There are occasional conversations when Matt has briefly wandered off. The usual catch up, a discussion of the weather or a chat about what's been on TV. There are no mentions of the party, no mentions of what happened in Charlie's bedroom.
If Charlie has kissed anybody else, it might have faded into the back of his memory. Instead it keeps his awake at night. He lies, unable to sleep, mind fixating on the press of their lips together, the feeling of Finn against him. Warm skin brushing.
The nights when Charlie can't stop thinking about Finn happen more often than Charlie would care to admit. They're the nights when Charlie tries to convince himself that there was nothing wrong with what he did. The nights when he fools himself into believing that one day he might dare to do it all over again. With Finn or some other boy.
Charlie still watches Finn. His gaze still lingers unintentionally, sometimes intentionally when he thinks no one is looking. It's harmless, but at the same time it feels impossibly dangerous. Charlie means nothing by it, but there's something about Finn, in the way he's so effortlessly confident and charismatic, something that grabs Charlie's attention without him realising it.
"What you thinkin' about."
It's late summer now, Charlie's sixteenth birthday just a few months away and he's helping his dad clean out the garage. A growing pile of assorted rubbish is growing in cardboard boxes and Charlie can feel the sweat making his t-shirt stick to his back.
Neither he nor his father is speaking. It's quiet work, the gentle murmur of the radio the only accompaniment. It's not how Charlie imagines that most boys would wish to spend their summer, it's not how he would wish to spend his summer. But all his friends are off on exotic holidays, or far too busy, not quite friendly enough. And so Charlie is stuck in the back garden, lifting heavy boxes and wishing that he was somewhere else, anywhere else.
The problems start when Matthew brings Finn back to the house.
It's a stupid decision, even Matthew must know that. Finn isn't allowed round the house, it's one of the few rules that Charlie's father insists on implementing.
But Matthew has spent the past few years developing his love for taking a risk, slowly becoming more defiant. Becoming less like their dad and more like a boy that Charlie doesn't recognise. He's seemingly desperate to break any rule that he can, and that includes bringing Finn home.
At first Charlie thinks it might all be okay. His dad raises his eyebrow and lets out a sharp exhale. He says nothing though, as if he's waiting for Matthew to back out.
Matthew isn't going to though, even Charlie can tell that.
It's only when Matthew and Finn begin to make their way inside that Charlie's father says anything.
"What do you think you're doing?"
"Going inside," Matthew replies simply. He tries to sound confident but Charlie can sense traces of nervousness in his voice.
Can see that his hands are shaking ever so slightly.
"He's not."
Nobody has to question who Charlie's father is referring to.
"Dad," Matthew begins.
"No. You know the rules."
"The rules are stupid."
"I don't want people like him going in my house," Peter Martin says.
"People like me?" It's the first time Finn has spoken up since he arrived.
Charlie gets the feeling that Finn was hoping that things might be different this time, and the disappointment on his face is clear. He's riled up though, pissed off, angry.
"You know, your type."
"No," Finn feigns ignorance, "please do explain."
"You gay lot," Charlie's father says.
"And why does my sexuality have anything to do with me being allowed in your house?"
Finn's tone is polite, but it's challenging too. Daring Peter Martin to say what is inevitably going to come out of his mouth.
"You're all going to hell, and I'd prefer it if you didn't drag my boys down with you."
"How would I take your boys with me?"
"I know what your type wants, you want to turn the whole damn world. It's unnatural what you do, and I don't want you trying anything with any of my boys."
"We're just friends-," Matthew interjects, but it's pointless, this is a fight he's never going to win.
"So go," Charlie's father continues, "leave my boys alone, I won't let you turn them, won't let you contaminate them."
For a minute Charlie waits for Finn to say 'too late'. He waits for the other boy to reveal his dirty little secret. Instead Finn makes sure that their two gazes meet and offers Charlie a secretive smile before making his way back down the porch steps.
"Fuck you Mr Martin," Finn calls over his shoulder as he walks away, "fuck you."
The Martin family stand in silence once Finn has disappeared. Charlie's palms are sweating and Matthew is shuffling from foot to foot.
"He's not allowed round here," Charlie's dad says, voice firm.
"I just thought - ,"
"No Matthew. Boys like that are going to hell, the whole damn lot of them. They've made their choices; you shouldn't be associating with them."
"He's my friend."
"No he's not, not anymore."
"Dad!"
"We've talked about this before Matthew, I've allowed it to slide, turned a blind eye but I won't let you spend any more time with that boy. Boys like that think they deserve the whole damn world. They don't."
"Dad - ," Matthew makes an attempt to interject.
"Matthew Martin, don't make me raise my hand."
Matthew shrinks back then, voice dropping so that Charlie can barely hear him.
"Sorry dad."
That night when Charlie goes to sleep, all he can think about is what his father said. All he can think about is the fact that he's going to hell, the fact that he shouldn't do everything he wants to, not according to his father.
Charlie Martin lies awake and thinks about how boys like Finn are apparently nothing but trouble.
Charlie Martin lies awake and thinks about how that's the kind of trouble he wouldn't mind being involved in.
Finn never comes to the house again.
/pars