Page 53 of Pages of My Heart
Charlie
Charlie jerks awake at the shrill sound of the alarm clock and reaches out on instinct to slap it off.
“Charlie?” Thomas mumbles, pulling him back by the hips so that their bodies are flush once more.
Absolute dread washes over him as reality hits, and he feels Thomas’s body tense up behind him a second later.
“Shit—did we fall asleep? Is it six already?”
“Yeah.” He lays a delicate kiss to Thomas’s palm, too scared to turn around and see the heartbreak in his husband’s eyes. He feels a distinct ache from their rough lovemaking and he’s gladfor it. It’s something he can take with him—a physical reminder of who he belongs to as the bus carries him away from home.
Thomas breathes heavy against the back of his neck, seemingly unwilling to let go of his tight hold. This is worse than Charlie ever imagined. How will they adjust to being apart when they have become so dependent upon one another? They are only their true selves with each other, and only truly relaxed when alone in their home.
“Oh, Charlie—” Thomas’s voice breaks. The kiss he places on Charlie’s neck is almost a bite and Charlie’s breath shudders.
“Tommy, touch me,” he whines, dragging Thomas’s hand down to his groin and gasping when Thomas’s hand circles around his rapidly swelling cock.
“One more time. Please. I know you’re sore, but I’ll be gentle, I promise.”
Charlie reaches over to the nightstand and passes back the Vaseline. A moment later Thomas is bending his leg up and sliding inside him with ease.
“Kiss me, Charlie. Give me your lips.”
Charlie tilts his head back and looks into Thomas’s eyes for the first time since waking. Tears fall almost immediately, before they can even bring their mouths together. It’s as if Charlie’s body breaks, his muscles turning to dust. He’s utterly helpless in Thomas’s arms. Thomas’s lips quiver against his own and Charlie’s heart begins to fracture. The mix of their sobs and moans is an unsettling combination. Thomas’s thrusts are soothing and tender, but they quickly bring him to the unavoidable end.
“Now, sweetheart,” he breathes against Thomas’s mouth. They reach the crescendo together, Thomas’s tears wetting his face as they kiss and cling to each other.
Charlie allows Thomas to wash him in the shower, turning when instructed to do so, but otherwise just observing his husband’s determined effort to get the job done without further tears. Thomas is so beautiful. More beautiful even than the day they first met. He loves how Thomas has matured—how his jaw has widened, and his chest expanded, broad and muscular. He loves his strong hands and elegant, long fingers. He loves the curve of his shoulders and the brawn of his arms glistening under a hot summer’s day sun. He loves it all.
“Thank you,” he whispers as Thomas rinses the shampoo out of his hair, careful not to get any in his eyes.
Thomas presses a kiss to his forehead, then gathers Charlie into his arms. They remain pressed together until the water begins to run cold.
Once dry, Thomas insists on helping him dress, which they do in silence. They have forty minutes left before they have to leave for the bus station. Words become increasingly hard to find.
“I’ll make you breakfast,” Thomas says.
“No. I can’t.”
“Charlie.”
Charlie shakes his head. There is no way he could keep anything down right now, the nausea in his stomach worsening with every passing minute.
Thomas nods and heads out of the bedroom. Charlie allows him to go, taking the time to double-check the contents of his bag one last time. He can hear Thomas in the kitchen, still occupied, so he retrieves the letter and gift he’s hidden in his nightstand drawer and places them under the covers on Thomas’s side of the bed. At first he’d wanted to give them to Thomas before he left, but now he thinks this will be better—something for Thomas to come home to rather than just an empty house.
He takes his bag to the front door, then returns to the kitchen.
Thomas is placing food into a paper bag. “I made you a packed lunch. Sandwiches and an apple. For the bus ride.”
Charlie takes it and simply nods his thanks. Twenty-five minutes left. “I’ll put this in my bag.”
Once he’s added his lunch to his few meager belongings, they are left standing in their sitting room, staring silently at one another. There’s too much time and not nearly enough. Thomas’s eyes fill with tears and Charlie’s chest aches like his heart is trying to crack open his ribs and carve its way out. Moving across the room, he turns the radio on and fiddles with the dial until he finds a station with a pretty song.
“Come on, dance with me. Just like the night we met.” He holds out his hand and Thomas walks to him, ignoring his hand in favor of wrapping both arms around his back, face slumping against his shoulder. He holds Thomas tight around the waist, closes his eyes, and they sway to the music for two whole songs.
“We need to say a proper goodbye now, cause we won’t be able to at the bus stop. Or should we not say goodbye at all?” Charlie pulls away so he can look into Thomas’s eyes and gauge his thoughts. There is a tear trailing down his face, so Charlie brushes it away and waits for an answer.
“No goodbyes,” Thomas says. “Just, I love you. I love you with my whole damn heart and soul, Charlie Miller.”
