sabato 00:37
You know how in every television show there is, whenever the girl cries, the guys always has to take her back to his place and then they kiss? Like it's the norm to take a girl back to your place in her most vulnerable state?
Paulo said fuck that, and he took Charlene back to her own place because of course, you'd want to go in the comfort of your home if you were crying. He knows how to treat a girl right.
Maybe.
Because Charlene's lying on her couch crying while he's sitting right at her feet, panicking because he doesn't know what to do.
"It's okay, Charlene, it's okay!" he rubbed circles on her back. "Okay, I don't think I'm making this any better. Sorry."
What is he supposed to do? Is he supposed to call an ambulance? Take her to A&E—no, now that he thinks of it that's a dick move. He should let her decide for herself, but he's not so sure that he should leave her alone.
But then, he should be comforting her. At least doing something other than rubbing circles on her back—does she think it's annoying?
"Um..." Paulo stuttered, letting the words escape his lips. "Should I call someone? I should—I should call the suicide hotline, right? They're trained and—"
"No—" Charlene said, the first word she's said since breaking out in tears on the bridge, "does it look like I want to talk about my life problems with someone I don't even know?"
"Well, they're trained and professional—"
"No, Paulo." She sat up, breath still hitching as she rubbed her now-red eyes. At first, he thought she was finished crying, but of course Paulo's always wrong and she's back at it not even ten seconds later.
Should he...call someone? He's not really sure what to do now. I mean, she doesn't have a boyfriend, he doesn't know any of her friends, and she's far from home. What could he possibly do to have her at least stop crying?
"It's okay, Charlene," he rubbed her back comfortingly. "I care about, okay? You're a good per—and you're crying even more, okay—everything is fine."
Come on, Paulo! You can do this! What does someone want after crying a lot? A dog? A boyfriend?
Ice cream.
"Hold up," he told her as he left the couch to wander into her kitchen. Her simple, small kitchen with beige walls and little cute magnets on the refrigerator as he opened the freezer to find more than enough pints of ice cream. Vanilla, strawberry, mango sorbet, chocolate chip cookie dough—you name it, she's got it all.
Christ, this girl must either love ice cream or she has a problem with ice cream, he's not sure which one but it doesn't matter.
He quickly snatched two pints—one for Charlene and one for him, of course—and some spoons before trotting back to her, seeing her finally calming down her mini breakdown.
Her eyes were red, cheeks awfully stained with tears, and she was sniffling. It's a horrible sight to see—someone right after an emotional breakdown and there's nothing much you can do. For once, Paulo feels useless. He doesn't have the experience to handle this, but she obviously needed someone, and he's not leaving anytime soon.
"Here." He handed her the pint and spoon, sitting next to her as she nodded silently and breathed shakily.
What just happened? he asked himself.
One minute, he was just taking a spontaneous walk to calm his nerves during an argument with Anto and the next, he's in her apartment, calming her down from an emotional breakdown and eating ice cream in silence.
He suddenly feels awful for all the things he's called her—emotionless, dull, lifeless because clearly, there was something bothering her this entire time. Had he known....no, he shouldn't blame himself. He didn't know, but he was glad he more than kind whenever he was with her. He doesn't know that much about Charlene other than the fact that she's from Croatia and likes brioche bread, they're still somewhat acquaintances. New and foreign.
"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked. "You don't have to if you don't want to."
"It's fine," she said in a small voice.
Seriously, what the hell is happening? He still trying to figure that out. He's not sure if this is a sign from God, or if he was at the right place at the right moment.
But boy, was he glad he was there. Otherwise, something...horrible would have happened, and he wouldn't have known.
Did she want to die? Was she on the bridge because she wanted to.... Paulo can't even bare to think of it.
"D-Did you...were you..."
"Yes," she responded and Paulo felt his heart sink into his chest. Oh, God. "I was going to before you showed up."
As he looks over at Charlene, it's difficult to process that a woman like her would have wanted to end it all. To think of ending it all. Paulo can't even think of it.
"I was just...I was just so stressed out. Not about work or money or any of that, but because I wasn't happy," Charlene explained, sniffling a little bit. "I was so unhappy for the longest time, and I was tired of it. I was so tired."
Paulo can't really relate to her—he grew up happy, achieved his dreams, and now he's reaching higher than he ever thought he could. He was the exact opposite of her, and yet, he could still feel her pain. "Whatever it is you need, I'm here for you."
"Thank you," she whispered, breathing finally calming down, no tears left to cry.
He just smiled at her. "Don't mention it. If I knew..."
"You don't have to—"
"No, Charlene, I care about you," he told her. "So many people care about you." And I don't know who they are, but you matter.
She shook her head. "No, I don't. I can easily be replaced. I'm nothing special." She picked at her ice cream.
"Uh—you speak four languages."
"What's so special about that? Millions of people do, I'm just another person." Her tone grew sad. "Juventus can just replace me if they wanted to. If I'm not good enough, if I'm not enough."
"Well then, I hope they don't. You're are the best tutor and person ever, and I don't even have to know you all that well to know that." Paulo gave her a big, fat, genuine smile as if all the smiles he gave her weren't real. You know, he does care a lot for this small Croat, even before any of this happened, and that says a lot.
While Charlene looked at him, silvery eyes piercing into his own, he took her into a hug.
"I just hope you know that you matter," he murmured. Letting her chin rest on his shoulder, Paulo hugged her even tighter. "And that I care alright?" he said, pulling away from her and keeping his hands on her shoulders. "I wouldn't want anything to happen to you."
Paulo's not so sure right now. He's not sure if he's being nice, or if he's absolutely smitten in the worst time possible, but those two are none of his worries as his mind is focused on Charlene. You know, he thought a lot of good things about her. She was a good person, maybe she just didn't see it. Didn't believe in herself.
"You should go," she whispered and he frowned.
He didn't want to—okay, maybe he should go.
Saturday morning. Midnight. Eating ice cream with his English tutor after her emotional breakdown.
What a day, honestly.
But he nods in defeat, standing up from the couch as Charlene followed him to the front door of her apartment.
"You can keep the ice cream," she said. "Just give the spoon back on Monday."
Monday. Maybe he should do something nice for her Monday. I mean, he hopes he'll see her on Monday.
He reaches into his back pocket for that receipt from the supermarket a while ago and grabbed the pen on the counter to scribble something on it. "Here's my number. If you need anything."
She smiles. "Thank you."
"Take care, Charlene."
He smiles, twists the doorknob and leaves.
//
lunedi 13:45
"Paulo, you dummy, why do you have a tray of cupcakes?"
Mario looked at Paulo with such confusion—why was this man holding a tray of cupcakes, and why isn't he giving me any?
To add on to his confusion—they were in the waiting room for English tutoring. Mario just finished his session but can't help and stare at how stupid Paulo looked holding the cupcakes. There had to be at least two dozen cupcakes in there, alternating from vanilla to chocolate.
But of course, he was looking this stupid only for Charlene.
"Don't tell me they're—"
"Uh-huh," Paulo responded with a sweet smile.
Mario sighed and placed a hand on his head. "Dio Mio, brother, you have a girlfriend. If you think that cupcakes and unicorns and sugar will make her—"
"What?" he laughed. "No, no, Mario, you got it all wrong. I'm bringing these because I can."
"She's pretty."
"Yeah, and your point is?" Paulo wasn't doing this to flirt with her, he wanted to make her feel like she mattered. After the incident over the weekend, he read articles about depression just to educate himself. He didn't want to be offensive towards her or anything, he didn't want to make things worse. "I'm being nice. She does a lot putting up with us and Mattia."
Mario snickered at the Mattia's name. Even though she turned him down, the poor Italian thought he had a chance with her and even got a hair for that sake. "Well, good luck. It seems like she's gotten more monotone today."
"Don't say that, she might be tired after all." Paulo furrowed his eyebrows at the Croat, seeing him shrug before walking away.
You know, some people shouldn't assume things without knowing the picture behind the curtains, he thought, turning the doorknob and entering the room with a happy grin. "Hey, Charlene!"
She looked a little better than the last time he saw her—she looked as if whatever happened never even happened. But Paulo knows better than to assume beforehand. Not everyone displays the same symptoms.
"Hi, Paulo. What are—"
"They're for you." He set the cupcakes down on the table. "Surprise!"
Charlene's expression towards the cupcakes makes it seem as if she's overwhelmed. I mean, it is a dozen cupcakes, and if Paulo thinks she can eat them all...he's right.
"I, uh—thank you?" she gave him a small smile. "Did you do the homework?"
"Yeah!" Paulo reached into his pocket and pulled out the homework, folded into a perfect square, and handed it to her. "It was so easy, the Duolingo helped me."
"Mm. At least someone did it, Mario did like three questions."
"Eh, he's kind of dumb." He shrugged.
Sometimes he feels like he's the only one who actually enjoys these tutoring sessions, other than Mattia. It makes him realize how Charlene feels—unwanted. This was her job, the foundation of her living, and no one has the balls to show her their appreciation.
It's easy to show love and appreciation, it's just so sad no one has the heart to do so. Charlene's a human, too. She's a good person, and Paulo thought she deserved a lot of things in the world.
"Are you okay?" he asks out of desperation. He knows it's probably not the best things to say, but he's concerned for her.
Charlene nods, eyes focused on the paper in front of her, pen making marks there and there. Usually, Paulo's silently freaking out because he gets nervous when she corrects his homework. Unlike his peers, he actually tries on the homework she gives.
"I, uh....I didn't know if you liked vanilla or chocolate, so I got both," he gestured towards the cupcakes.
"So you got two dozen cupcakes. For me."
He nodded. "If you don't like one flavor, I can eat them. I like chocolate."
"Go ahead. Take the chocolate, I'm not really a big fan of chocolate anyways."
Paulo mentally giggled like a child and opened the tray, picking up a chocolate cupcake with the most frosting out of all of them. "How was your morning today?"
She shrugged. "Like every other morning."
"...Which is?"
"I wake up, and I don't get up until an hour and a half later. Slow. Paulo—" she handed him back his paper. Five slashes in purple ink. "So you said it was easy?"
He frowns. "It's the green bird's fault."
"Okay, blaming Duolingo doesn't count," she chuckled softly, the first emotion she's showed him since Saturday.
"At least I did the homework!" He pointed out and sat back in the chair. She hadn't texted him to talk, but she used his number to remind him about the homework since no one really likes the practice tests.
"Yeah, yeah." She smacked her lips, opening the desk drawer to retrieve a worksheet for Paulo. It was nothing complex, just vocabulary building exercises. "So, today we're going to go over more adjectives, so you aren't using the same ones over and over again."
"Sat-is...." Paulo tried reading one of the words from the paper. "Sat-is-feed." He looks up at her for approval.
"Satisfied."
"Satisfied, yes!" He smiled at her, but her attention was glued to the paper.
He frowns a little, just a little, so she won't notice it. He makes it seems as if he's intensely focusing on the paper, focusing the intricate details of the white, bleached, thin paper, but he's just glancing up to look at Charlene.
If you asked him, she had just reverted back to her old self. Maybe trying to make it seem like she didn't have an emotional breakdown right in front of him over the weekend.
I mean, yeah, sure she texted him but it was purely so that he would do the homework. It was nothing more than six words—Please remember to do the homework. He responded with Yes and three happy, smiley face emojis just cheer her up. He even brought her cupcakes. But she's acting as if it ever happened.
"All of these are synonyms for happy, so you're not stuck using the same vocabulary all the time."
"Hm."
"We're just gonna pronounce them and use then in sentences, one by one. That sound fine?" He nodded, sneaking a quick glance at her. "So first we have 'delighted.'"
"Delighted," he spoke and paused for a split second. "I am delighted that you are here."
"Just like that," she says in satisfaction. "Next we have—"
"Are we not going to talk about what happened?" he suddenly asked, and Charlene's expression immediately changed, making Paulo want to take it all back. But it had to be done sooner or later.
She's silent, lips pressed into a thin line, and doesn't meet his eyes but rather, she's looking down at her lap as if she's ashamed of what happened.
Now Paulo's frustrated, all he wants to do is help. He wants to make sure that she's alright because that's what a decent human being does, even if he's not the best person, the least he can do is have some decency. But he's just shoving the cupcake further into his mouth, watching to make sure she's fine.
"This is weird," she spoke, fiddling with her nails. "No one in my life has known about this, so it's weird to have someone care about me. I take care of myself, but I'm very good at it."
"You have me," Paulo grinned, and she finally returned it back, only to have it disappear in seconds.
"You probably don't know, but I don't like talking about my...personal problems out loud. Or during work. I get distracted."
"But you don't have to feel...trapped. I'm with you 'til the end of the line."
"That's a quote from Captain America, you—"
"Okay, but I'm saying is—" Paulo couldn't stop grinning, and thankfully, she was smiling, too. "We're friends, you can talk to me whenever you need me."
It's amazing how many people can't do this simple thing for their friends. They know they're having some serious troubles, and they just leave them to drown.
But not Paulo. He's an actual friend, he cares about Charlene even if she probably doesn't consider him a friend.
She finally looks up at him, and her eyes are once again the dull grey color he knows. "Whenever, wherever..."
"Yeah, just like the song!" he beamed. "Whenever, wherever, we're meant to be together! I'll be there and you'll be near..."
Oh my God, she mouthed. Sometimes Charlene can't even believe the closest person she has to a friend is Paulo, and this is what goes on in his head.
"Okay, okay!" Paulo giggled after seeing her pained expression. "But just promise me that you'll talk to me whenever you need to."
He leaned, resting his elbows on his thighs and held out his pinky towards her, and she sighed and took his pinky with her own in a promise.
"'Til the end of the line."
a/n: heyy whats poppin guys i'm on vacay right now but where are my readers from?? i'd love to know!! :)