Page 134 of Break the Rule
Charlie is a big enough man to admit that he’d spent the week wallowing about rejection, partly because as Andrew aptly pointed out he really never had been rejected before, but also because it was easier to focus on his hurt pride than how broken his heart had been at the idea of losing Eden. Looking back, he hates that he let a week go by without forcing Eden to face him. He knows Eden. He should’ve known this is what Eden needed, to be reminded that Charlie isn’t afraid of him even when Eden is terrified ofthem.
Continuing to play with Eden’s hair, he’s pretty sure he could die happy like this. Somehow having Eden naked on his chest, letting Charlie touch him like this, is almost better than sex. There’s an intimacy to it, the kind Charlie is unfamiliar with. The kind he wants more of.
The longer they lie together, the more Eden’s breathing slows to the point Charlie wonders if he’s sleeping, but this thought is proven inaccurate when Eden breaks the silence with eleven painful words.
“I was four the first time they cut my hair off.”
Charlie’s hand stills, unsure if he should stop touching, but Eden reaches up to move it again, wordless permission for Charlie to continue. He does, stroking his fingers through Eden’s hair with all the tenderness he has always been denied.
“I don’t remember much, only that there was lice at the preschool they sent me to, and the foster family I was with had a lot of kids. They said they didn’t want me giving it to all of them, they didn’t have time to deal with it so the dad—I don’t even remember his name—just took me into the garage and buzzed it all off. I remember crying. I didn’t want short hair, but he told me to man up.”
There aren’t enough words for what Charlie is feeling, and he suspects none of them would help Eden process, so he bites his tongue and remains silent while Eden continues to talk.
“After that, I wouldn’t let anyone cut my hair for years. I screamed and bit, which is probably why no one wanted to keep me. My file said ‘difficult to manage’ under a lot of the placement transfers. My hair got pretty long again, and by the time I was in fifth grade, a lot of people thought I was a girl. It drove my foster parents at the time crazy. They hadn’t asked for a girl, was what they told me when they tried to cut it off. I was small, but I could fight. Only…only one morning, I woke up and it was gone.” There’s a hitch in Eden’s breathing, his entire body tense. “They cut it all off while I was asleep. I walked into the kitchen, and my foster dad, his name was Richard—just smiled and told me it was time I looked like a man. That was the first time I ran away. I waited until they went to work and I ran. I ran until my legs hurt. I was gone for two days before the policefound me sleeping behind a Walmart. When they brought me back, there was a trash bag with my stuff in it, and that was that.”
Words escape Charlie, leaving nothing but devastation and sadness for a smaller version of Eden who was hurt and betrayed and violated, for the version of Eden now who carries the invisible scars of that pain. Charlie will probably never get to know every trauma Eden experienced, nor does he think he has any right to dredge up things Eden’s not ready to share yet by asking. Maybe, just this once, he can be not just a respectful boy, but a good one.
Pushing up the stack of bracelets on his left wrist, Eden exposes the delicate underside, showing off the numbers tattooed there. Charlie’s noticed them before but never asked. He assumed it was a lucky number but now he suspects it’s the opposite.
“Thirteen. The number of homes that didn’t want me.”
“Eden.”
“Don’t tell me you feel sorry for me,” Eden says, sounding so small and broken that Charlie breaks with him. “Please.”
Charlie does feel sorry for him, not in a pitying way, but in the way you have empathy for someone because they never should’ve had to endure such trauma so young. He’s not sure now is the time to try and explain that though, so he focuses on the other things he feels too.
“I’m proud of you.”
“Fuck off.”
“My refractory period isn’t that fast, unfortunately.”
“Because you’re old,” Eden teases, some of his light returning. It’s not bright like the sun, but small and strong like a candle lit in the dark. Charlie really is proud of him. He survived in a world that did its best to try and dim his light so it would stop burning. Instead of letting them whittle him down to nothing, he became the match instead of the flame.
“You’re going to wound my ego, baby.”
“Your ego could take knocking down a peg or two. It’s a wonder you can fit that big head of yours in a room.”
“It’s not my fault I know I’m handsome and talented.”
“Fucking menace is what you are,” Eden grumbles, rubbing his face into Charlie’s chest. “What am I going to do with you?”
It’s likely meant to be rhetorical, but Charlie has never met a question he didn’t want to answer, especially this one.
“Keep me, I hope. Not to brag, but I’d make a sexy wife.”
“Shut up, Charlie.” Eden’s eyes are on him now, cheeks flushed red, not from exertion but something else.
“I’d like to keep you, Eden.” Charlie brushes the hair out of his eyes, tucking it behind his ear. “Will you let me keep you?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“You always have a choice.”
Eden swallows, crossing his arms over Charlie’s chest then resting his chin atop them. “You’re kind of needy.”
“Yes.”
