(Untitled)

[teenagerenegade]

Normally, though Charlie loves snow. He grew up in Upstate New York, so he figures that it's kind of a requirement. He worries about Edmund, though. He knows what he went hrough. He does his best to keep him warm. Today, he built a snowman outside their hut (he spends less and less time at his own hut), stayed out in the snow until his cheeks

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[like_arrows]

I'm gonna go ahead and blame the ice for the fact that I step out of the Compound and nearly run some kid down. And yeah, it could just be that he's sitting there and I'm not looking where I'm going, bundled up to my ears with this scarf wrapped around my face, but I'd rather blame the weather. Because this weather -- I'm not cut out for it. I'm a California girl, born and bred, thanks, and we don't do snow. Except that around here, I have no choice.

I hold a hand out in front of me to steady myself, nearly catching it on the guy's shoulder and then stopping. "Sorry, sorry," I say quickly, "are you okay?" And then I get a better look at him, holding onto whatever those are pretty tight and I take a step back, uncertain. If he's not okay, I'm not sure it's anything to do with me.

[teenagerenegade]

"Yeah," says Charlie, nodding and not even looking up at her. His hands tighten on what he's holding and that's when he realises that he can't feel his fingers very well any more.

"Yeah, I'm okay."

[like_arrows]

I nod, even if he's not looking to see it, and start around him, but -- I don't know, call me a sucker or a sap or whatever, but I turn back around, hands buried in my pockets, because he's just sitting there and I don't know him, but it's still hard to walk away. "No offense," I say, "but you don't really look it. Aren't you cold out here?"

[teenagerenegade]

"Yeah," says Charlie, numbly. He can't quite tell if he's crying or not and he swipes at his face with the heel of one hand, anyway. "Yeah, I'm pretty cold."

[like_arrows]

Yeah, okay, walking away's officially not an option, even if it's not any of my business. Easing down on the steps next to him, I draw my knees up against myself. "You wanna go inside? Or -- I don't know, talk about it to a total stranger?"

[teenagerenegade]

"I don't really want to talk about it," says Charlie, shaking his head and glancing over at her. Like he always does, he notes the details; she's pretty, delicate and, like he always does, he subconsciously compares her to the only girl he's ever really known well.

She's nothing like Susan.

[like_arrows]

"Fair enough," I say, because, well, it is. God knows I wouldn't talk about ninety-eight percent of the shit going on in my life to anyone who asked, let alone a perfect stranger. "Sorry, I know that was nosy. I can cut out if you wanna be alone." I mean, I can't even manage my own life, who am I to offer to listen to anyone else's problems?

[teenagerenegade]

Charlie shakes his head again before he even really knows why. She's sitting close enough that he can feel the warmth coming off her and that's sort of really comforting right then.

"Hi," he says, quietly, and he offers her one hand, gone red at the joints. "I'm Charlie Bartlett."

[like_arrows]

"Nico Minoru." It feels right to answer in kind as I shake Charlie's hand. Whatever's going on, I'm not gonna pry, but if he's willing to let me stick around, well, that feels right, too. "Nice to meet you, Charlie."

[teenagerenegade]

"That's a really pretty name," says Charlie, who's always quite liked being plain Charlie his whole life. People with middle names like Felix like simple first names like Charlie.

Finally, he swallows down the lump in his throat.

"What would you do if you knew you'd really fucked up but there was absolutely nothing you could do about it?"

[like_arrows]

I glance down at the snow, all marked with footprints, and my fingers twisting together where my hands rest in my lap. "Remember that I fucked up," I say after a moment, quiet. "And try not to do it again." I just wish that was as hypothetical as he makes it sound for me.

[teenagerenegade]

"I don't know if that'll do it here," he says, looking down at the note in his hand again. "I don't know if that's going to be enough."

Charlie's always been good at remembering when he's fucked up; he keeps a record in his head.

[like_arrows]

"I don't think it ever is," I admit. "Just remembering, not being able to do anything. But sometimes that's it, that's all you can do -- own up to what you did, hate yourself a little and don't forget." There's just too much you can't fix, too much that, once it's done, it's done. It's not comforting, but it's honest and I'd rather be honest.

[teenagerenegade]

Charlie's got a list of things he hates himself a little bit for. Charlie learned a long time ago that the key to self confidence is being a good performer, but that doesn't mean he doesn't remember every single thing he didn't quite get right.

"I'm not going to forget," he says, quietly.

[like_arrows]

Looking at him, I believe it. Even when it doesn't show on the surface, all the wrong things, the bad things, they stay. They stick. Nothing makes them go away for good. "It gets better," I say softly. "Most things do anyway. Eventually."

[teenagerenegade]

"I hope so," he says, and he looks down at his hands. His fingers are so cold that he doesn't feel like he's gt a chance of moving themanymore. "You want to go insde, Nico?"