Chapter Text
It was hard to tell the laughs and the music apart, everything moulding together into pure serotonin inside Charles’ brain. His laboured breath was of no help as his own ears seemed somehow muffled by the constant forced intake of air with every jump, turn and lounge of his body into strange dancing positions he wasn't sure were even humanly achievable. However, it must have been humanly possible as Niko was consecutively earning herself a ‘Perfect’ from the robotic voice on the TV with but a flicker of her wrist and twist of her hips.
“s’not fair,” Charles took the small window of opportunity to swat at Nikos Wii controller, hoping to deter the motion sensor in his favour.
It was of no use, of course, and even getting his words out was a struggle in itself but he pushed through, determined to finish this outrageous choreo of ‘Timber’ playing on the small TV. Of course, Niko had rushed to choose the panda character– that furry black and white tosser– so Charles was left with considerably more dynamic movements. So really, it wasn't his fault he hadn't gotten to even the second star by the time he completed his last lap around Niko, who simply kneeled on the floor with a mischievous smile.
“Cry about it!” Crystal hollered from the couch, movement so abrupt half her drink threatened to spill all over Charles' new cushions.
He loved those cushions, even if he’d only had them for a maximum of a week. They had been costly. He’d only been in this dorm for two days, there was no way he was about to stain his sofa first thing. That would be a less than ideal welcome gift as far as Charles or his new soon-to-arrive roommates were concerned.
Charles would have complained to Crystal about it, he would have loved to use the pumped adrenaline from this god-awful dance into bickering with Crystal, but suddenly the song ended, causing the laughs to quiet as a buzzing energy of expectancy rose. The screen gleamed with a podium, Niko’s user ascending on the screen until she was awarded the crown of victory.
“Bollocks!” Charles made a point to groan loudly, throwing his head far back in a mocked exasperation, but the smile adorning his face was hard to miss and even harder to wipe off as Niko’s cheers filled the small dorm.
“Don't be a sore loser, Charles” Crystal’s drink was left abandoned on a strayed nightstand, one of three cheap and standard white nightstands scattered across the room, as she rose to her feet. She approached a giddy Niko who was holding his Wii remote as a sword which dealt a fatal hit to charles chest.
“Can’t be anything but a sore loser when you never win, innit?” Charles said, brows dancing ironically as he took a moment to pant for some air, resting his hands on his knees as he regained a steady breathing. For someone who played cricket almost religiously, he sure was in bad shape for dancing. Who cares, he didn't plan on making a professional career out of dancing, god knows how that would go down with his father.
Charles shuddered slightly, probably his tired muscles acting up after a successful night of just dancing competitions. He and the girls had planned a ‘gals night’, consisting of a lot of junk food and even more clumsy dancing at Charles' dorm– because, with a weekend left until classes were due to start, his two roommates hadn't shown up yet, leaving Charles with an, albeit small, three student dorm all to himself.
“Niko remains the unbeaten champion, of course,” Crystal squeezed Nikos shoulders before stomping– because there was no other way of describing the monstrous noise her platforms made on the wood flooring– her way to Charles' hunched figure, “Time to battle for second place, champ.”
Thus, against his better judgement and probably his doctor's judgement if he had one, Charles was keyword attempting to keep up with a duo choreo to a strange song Crystal had suggested called ‘asereje’. It involved a lot of leg movements which Charles was apprehensive about given his already tiring muscles, but when they reached a crazy jump in the choreo he flat-out refused to attempt it. He would take the loss and sleep with his knees intact thank you very much. Crystal however went all in, hitting pose after pose and who knew such a short body could jump so bloody high?
“You’ve got this Crys—” Niko was interrupted by garish thumps resonating in the dorm. It was strident, ground–shaking kind of loud, making them all three still almost instantly while the forgotten music kept playing.
The thumps persisted almost mechanically. It came from the floor, or rather the dorm under them, and it sounded quite angry. Whoever was making that noise had somehow managed to convey a lot of annoyance on a simple pounding at their floor– or their ceiling, Charles supposed.
“No way…” Charles whispered even if there was no need for it, feeling somewhat like being caught past bedtime as a teenager when his dad would bang on his door as a warning.
“Were they telling us to shut up?!” Crystal didn't even bother with the quiet part; she squealed fully, wheezing as she brought both hands to her mouth.
“It’s Friday, it's gonna get loud,” Niko supplied, rather dampened that their fierce competition had been cut short.
Charles was slightly miffed knowing his downstairs neighbour was somewhat uptight, but what bothered him most was the way they had chosen to deal with it. Talking was, for once, perfectly on the tables; a small complaint to his door followed by a polite apology from Charles. But whoever was down there was conceited enough to deem a smack to the roof (or floor) compliant enough.
“So… tie?” Crystal was less than pleased with this result, the discontent painfully obvious in her side eye as she slumped next to Niko on the couch.
“Nah, you can have it,” Charles retreated, knowing what battles to fight, “I reckon you were doing better than me anyways.”
“Damn right.”
They fell into a comfortable, or perhaps exhausted silence as their adrenaline died down, leaving them nothing but slightly sweaty and spent bodies draped over the couch and bed alike. Charles loathed his bed here; the mattress was too stiff and thin, making his hips bare the worst of it in the mornings. Right now he was knackered enough to not care, the mere feel of his sheets a promise of rest and comfort.
“I'm so excited for you both starting your college life,” Crystal was the first to break the silence, clearly having the most energy left courtesy of the energy drink she surely had drank while the other two danced. He couldn't even blame her; after a whole year at college, Crystal had learned her limits with studying and relaxation, seemingly concluding that one energy drink could save her a lot of trouble.
“Yeah, I'm chuffed,” his tone was flat and he hoped the girls missed the roll of his eyes. Charles was rarely this cynical but the adrenaline drop had left him groggy and rough at the edges, losing the grasp he had on his emotions that so easily could slip away from him.
“We know you don't want to be here, but at least you have us, right?” Niko’s voice was gentle, the cadence reminiscent of his mom but years younger comforting an even younger Charles after a nasty fall from a bike. It had been silly and so had been his tears, but his father had never taken kindly to silly– or Charles for that matter– so that bike had his life cut short. He’d never picked up a bike after that.
The issue about his college arrangement was a sour one. Coming from the countryside, it was a matter of time before he had to leave his parents' farm and head for the big city with all that tosh about dreams and the future. However, the prospect of finding a college, and therefore a job to sustain the needed housing, was always a matter of if, rather than when. It was hard leaving his house, leaving his mother behind, so far away from him, unable to look after and care for her. Up until a month ago, Charles was sure he wouldn't be able to. His mother had made it easier for him to decide. Or perhaps harder, as she gave him no choice. By some miracle that Charles knew came with a handful of sacrifices on her part, she had gotten him a scholarship to some pretentious rich attendee college with dorms on campus and all.
“Sure,” Charles settled for, already having forgotten half of what Niko had said but knowing they were in treacherous-personal-feelings territory he was not keen on discussing, “Plus I got to spend a whole week in a dorm all by myself.”
And if Charles had to leave home earlier than expected, if he had failed to hide the admission letter from his dad, if he had to hastily grab clothes and flee from his house, well nobody needed to know.
“Speaking off, we are still on for the skatepark tomorrow, right?” Crystal clicked her tongue twice, fingers playing with a loose hem of the couch.
“Course, I fixed the loose wheel on the skateboard yesterday,” Charles explained, making a tightening motion with his hands to mere air before offering a thumbs up without opening his eyes, “should be good to go.”
And that was that. Shortly after, the girls left for their dorm at what must have been not more than ten past twelve– basically Saturday– and Charles gladly took for his bed in fluffy pyjama pants. He’d have to get used to the new bed, the faint feeling of railing picking at his hips no match for the hoard of pillows and blankets he had back at home. Would they even be there by now? Or would his mother have put them all away? He didn't miss home, he’d take this awful bed every time, he just wished home– his mother– didn't miss him.
>X<
The sun was not shining when Charles left the dorms around midday. There was no forecast of rain yet the stubborn English sky remained bleak and grey, plagued with ancient smoke from the city and, for a change, Charles found himself missing the clear skies and sparse clouds of the countryside.
There was no use in dwelling, he’d learned that long ago when long nights became loathed with doubts and her mother’s hugs turned scarce, so with his skateboard in one hand and a run-down phone in the other he kept his pep in his step through the outskirts of the campus.
He had no clue where he was going, truth be told. Navigating campus ground was hard enough, the multiple parks, corners and shortcuts were all too much for his mind to remember, let alone the busy streets of a booming city like London, where either you get with the program or you get run over by the mass of people trotting the streets.
As it stood, Charles was trying to figure out the path towards the skatepark Crystal had shown him some days ago. The digital map on his phone, which made strange jumps whenever he crossed a street, was set on confusing him. Charles had half a mind to not scream at it with frustration, but he was the one who couldn't remember where to take the bus so, if anything, he should scream at himself. That wouldn't be half as satisfactory though.
As he stumbled through the pavement right outside campus grounds, the busy street where most buses and taxis drove through ran just beside him. He was too preoccupied with glaring holes into his phone screen to notice the dip in the pavement signalling one of the many car exits for the parking lot on campus.
A squeaky screech of tyres made him jump, the sound too close for comfort as a pretentious vintage blue car came to a halt mere centimetres away from Charles' now tensed legs. In the panic of avoiding being bumped into, Charles’ skateboard had taken a fall, his now free hand flying onto the hood of the car to balance himself. Too close, too damn close. What happened to pedestrian’s priority and all that? With half his heart in his throat, Charles' fist unclenched at his side, the small spike of fight or flight dissipating, or rather mutating into annoyance at whoever was driving this car so recklessly.
“Mate, what the hell was that?! You almost ran me over!” Charles' voice was raised quite above a comfortable range but he didn't mind as he approached the car, its removable roof gone leaving the driver in clear sight.
Behind the wheel, a boy about Charles' age with a pale complexion contrasting an opaque blue suit was clutching his chest rather cartoonishly. He looked fresh out of a very old movie his mum might have enjoyed, in his vintage car that somehow matched his suit, the perfect almost classical quiff and prim posture, not even slouching into the leather seat. The only thing amiss, or perhaps the only thing giving away his participation in the modern world, was his big squared sunglasses rimmed with silver and the name of some cushy brand on the side. Even if they hid most of his reaction, Charles could tell the exact moment when the boy recovered his composure, hands returning almost leisurely to the wheel.
“My speed was hardly fast enough to cause damage,” his tone was laced with nonchalance as if he didn't possess more than three speech tones– or he wouldn't even bother to invest energy into this encounter by keeping his voice flat and stuffy.
“You have to be more careful,” Charles huffed in disbelief. Yes, maybe he had a tendency for the dramatic but he at least deserved an apology as a law-abiding pedestrian, right?
“You did not look both ways,” it was said so matter of factly that Charles almost forgot they were arguing. It was more of a statement, not an excuse or justification, just an bothersome observation.
“I was looking for the bus!” Charles’ tone on the contrary was exalted and almost offended as he flailed his hands in front of the other’s face, “Bloody system is a nightmare.”
The stranger had the nerve, the bloody audacity, to look Charles up and down with an arched brow peeking just above the sunglasses. Charles couldn't fathom what he could possibly be trying to achieve with that and it drove him even madder.
“Wrong side of the street,” the guy simply nodded towards the zebra crossing a couple of metres down the road and, without even taking his hands off the steering wheel, turned to look at Charles, sun catching over the tinted glasses surface as he moved, “bus lines go in the other direction.”
How the fuck is he supposed to react now? He was so ready to fight this stranger for no apology being given but now somehow he felt compelled to thank him for helping him find a damn bus stop. No wonder Charles felt his brow about to twitch with irritation. Even under those sunglasses, Charles could tell the stranger felt smug. Even if his lips had not changed from a thin almost bored line, Charles knew he felt like smiling mockingly. He would not give him the pleasure of a thank you. God knows rich boys around here needed to be taken down a peg sometimes and Charles was highly committed to the cause.
“Right.” Charles chirped awkwardly, bending down quickly to retrieve his forgotten skateboard.
He had already lost too much time– time better spent at the skatepark with Niko and Crystal– so, wanting to end this … strange? peculiar? disconcerting encounter, he made a bold 180 turn and beelined to the zebra crossing in the busy street.
Entitled pricks would always be entitled pricks and Charles was honestly surprised he had not run into one sooner, what with this college being top of the food chain for rich nepotism babies. He was sure it would only get worse from there. This guy, even if a little pretentious, was at least never outwardly mean to him– if you ignored the whole almost running him over, which Charles would not be forgetting anytime soon. Was the bar that low? It shouldn't be. But Charles was used to snobby noses looking down on him, his darker complexion and thick British accent could speak for it. He had never given it much thought, after all, every other kid back home spoke just like him, but it was impossible to ignore how posh people spoke around here. Lots of big words as well, where’s the fun in that?
Speaking of fun, Charles did manage to catch the right bus, paid a rip-off fare for it as well, but even when the bus driver seemed to believe he was in some fast and furious reprice, Charles strolled into the skatepark twenty minutes past their agreed meet up time.
It wasn't hard to spot the two girls lingering on one of the corners against a ramp prop; for a Saturday the park was abnormally empty but Charles would not start complaining. Crystal sat crossed-legged over her skateboard while Niko swayed lightly on her very pink very bright rollerblades, chatting idly about probably a new manga Niko was reading.
Charles made his way over, approaching from Niko’s back while being extra quiet just to keep the element of surprise. Hey, one should be able to scare the brains out of one's friends once in a while, keep it interesting.
When he was close enough, and also when he got spotted by the ever-so-aware of her surroundings Crystal, Charles jumped over to Niko, catching her waist and making her spin on her wheels with more speed than she was expecting, “got your wheels!”
“Unfair!” Niko squealed, grabbing at Charles’ arm to stabilise herself but dragging him into the movement in the process. It was a tangle of limbs and giggles but with Charles’ feet rooted to the ground and no kinetic energy to be exploited, Niko was soon back in control of her own two wheeled feet.
“The audacity of this man,” Crystal gruffed from further down, not even bothering to stand up.
“You’d get bored without me,” Charles rested his skateboard against the ramp’s side before shooting Crystal an upturn smirk.
“We did just fine this past thirty minutes,” she deadpanned, pulling most of her curls up into a makeshift bun. It seemed she had learned her lesson from the last time when her hair had ended up tangled under Niko’s rollers after a pretty nasty fall.
Thirty minutes was kind of dramatic on her part though, and if it weren't for that lad’s horrific driving skills he would a hundred per cent have made it on time, “Not my fault–”
“Never is.” Crystal interrupted with a very loud roll of her eyes.
She always had a way of enunciating her words with a distinct disdain Charles had learnt to appreciate. Maybe all the theatrics and sarcasm had to do with her upbringing– even if Charles was mostly unaware of the details, he sensed Crystal hadn't been the most cared for child despite the copious amounts of money thrown her way. News flash, money can't raise a child. Neither can parents sometimes, but that was a discussion they’ve never had and never will probably. They’d always been more of the bickering type, not the feelings. No, that part was always reserved for Niko, sweet, caring, kinda strange Niko, who had not once received a nasty look or a spikey comment from Crystal. Charles could pretend to be jealous about it but happy couples are hard to come by in this day and age so he’d let it slide.
“This one prat almost ran me over, be nice I'm still in shock,” Charles spluttered quickly, his tone trembling mockingly as he pouted.
He wanted some sympathy points, sue him. He was not gonna lose this one– he would play the distraught card anytime if that meant seeing Crystal’s defeated look again and again like a pleasant pat on the back.
“Oh my god Charles, are you okay?!” Niko’s worried voice stung a bit, causing the part inside his brain wired to not be a burden, to not cause trouble or make people worry, to light up with a red dot; the predecessor of a warning.
“Yeah, yeah, takes heaps more than a vintage grandpa car to finish me off,” Charles pretended to puff his chest and hit it but he soon realised it actually hurt, “although I could’ve pretended to be in immense pay, get some financial compensation from some rich bloke’s money while I'm at it.”
“Oh, that reminds me!” Crystal’s energy goes way up, she even untucks her legs to better convey her news, “I caught wind of a party next Friday, something about celebrating the term starting which I think is just fancy talk for ‘we want to get drunk and live in denial of our responsibilities’ and I'm all in for that. Plus, one of the rich rich guys is hosting it so you know they got the good alcohol.”
Parties. Right. College parties. Sure. Don’t get it wrong, Charles was by no means an outsider to parties or alcohol; he’d had his fair share of hangovers, he even discovered that somehow riding off the alcohol in his system made bruises easier to deal with, but one thing is doltish house parties back at his hometown and another vastly different, maybe even outlandishly so, was a college party in the house– no, sorry, mansion of some rich kid he barely knows, with even more snobby attendees. Though the prospect of experiencing a bougie party life for once in his life was not unappealing. Could expensive booze dim the nervousness in his stomach? Guess he’ll find out.
“I haven't had a single class yet and you are already trying to get me drunk, such a bad influence.” Charles clicked his tongue disapprovingly.
“I'm also encouraging you to be social and maybe, bear with me, make some college friends. Crazy concept, I know.”
“Oh my gosh, what are we gonna wear?” Niko jumped in, clearly enticed with the idea of the party. There was no way Charles could back down now, not with how excitedly Niko talked about outfit planning and outfit shopping and outfit fitting, and— Honestly, Charles couldn't even understand half of it if he tried so he tuned them both out with all the love and patience he had cultivated over the decade long friendship they've had.
It was so bizarre getting to share college life with Niko and Crystal truth be told. They were from completely different words, not just Niko being from Japan and Crystal from the States but from their childhoods, their families, their experiences. They came from money, he didn't. They had a proper education, Charles can't remember half his high school years, lessons merging with anger and pain crumpling his chest through it all. They had a place to go back to, he didn't; He might as well be sentencing himself to death if he ever goes back.
Familiar hoarse shouts resonated like a dampened echo inside his head, so distorted and crooked it could almost be mistaken for the creaking of an old tree branch, a swing’s pressure picking away at its bark as it swayed back and forth, back and forth, scream and shout, back and forth. It had been very clear he was not to come back after leaving for college. He was not welcome anymore and a part of him reminded him he never had been anyways.
So he had to make this work. He would make it work.