[right][sub][color=gray][b]FT.[/b] [color=D3D3D3][b]Charlie Decker[/b][/color] [@BrutalBx][/color][/sub][/right]
[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/JcevYAT.png[/img]

[img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/210412/6d17770d9f181d91202bca3863f137e9.png[/img][/center]
[indent][indent][color=gray]The hues of the early morning unraveled as a promise kept. Sun rays of brilliant colors eased their way through one of the windows of the James household bringing the freshness of a new day to a restless girl. Her hair was rich and deep, full of pure waves of the Earth. Her skin was that of enchanting snow, which only made the rose in her cheeks stand out strikingly so. Her hands, though dainty, had smeared lead and small calluses. Clearly, she was a girl who spent her days with a practical love and didn’t mind getting her hands dirty.  

Her name was Penelope James and this was how she liked to spend her mornings.    

Taking in the fall air, as she leaned against the window ledge, the understated gem, who wore nothing but a [url=https://img-fs-3.wnlimg.com/p/770/c4f/5c7/df1eeb41f7aafbf39bbe8bf/x354-q80.jpg]thin tank and plaid shorts[/url], found herself turning to the next page of a book of someone that was dead, but not really. Someone that understood the situation of living through such terrible times, yet is an inspiring testament to the human spirit and how we all, regardless of where we come from, have a right to freedom.  Books, where pen meets paper, wait to speak their truths and welcome you to a conversation of preserving ideas. Ideas that could be fleeting and elusive as dreams, but if you let it, they could be a philosophy that shines a new way of thinking, ultimately living on forever, in the heart and mind of the reader. 

Serene and in the peace of her solitude, surrounded by perfect temperature, ambience, and a treasure chest of nature’s colors, Penelope whispered to herself a quote out loud, [color=fe6f5e]“As long as this exists, this sunshine and this cloudless sky, and as long as I can enjoy it, how can I be sad?”[/color] Call her a nerd or whatever, but without knowledge and a bold heart, how would positive change happen in history? The catalyst of change was caused by those whose minds were racing between education and catastrophe. Maybe this is why she preferred non-fiction genres, especially biographies, autobiographies, and memoirs. These stories show that while you have little control over [i]who lives, who dies, and who tells your story[/i], there can be at least one person that keeps your memory alive. The flame that could go out continues to burn because someone is thinking of you. 

Smiling to herself, her mind and heart completely invested in the story of Anne Frank, she sat down on the window ledge, savouring every bittersweet, joyous, and heartbreaking part of this autobiography, in no rush to go to the ending, simply living in the ‘in-between’ — the good, the bad, and the ugly. She had time to spare, knowing well enough that her mother was in the kitchen drinking coffee and reviewing her monthly expenses, her father was already gone for the day, catching up on paperwork at the station, and her sister was still sleeping like a dead man. 

Penelope loved the morning.

[color=D3D3D3]“You know, if any other pervert saw you in the window looking like that, they’d probably put you in the back of a van, you know that right?”[/color] 

The deep voice came from behind, followed by a tall, lanky frame pushing his way through the small window and not so gently pushing Penelope off of her ledge. Crumpling to the floor face first, ass up in air, the “intruder” did a not so graceful forward roll that would make the Edenridge Cheerleaders hate him even more than they already did.

[color=fe6f5e]“Uh-huh.”[/color]

[color=D3D3D3]“Lucky for you, I’m your own personal private pervert so you’re fine.”[/color]

[color=fe6f5e]“Is that lucky though?”[/color] She teased, staring at her next door neighbor through her peripheral vision. [color=fe6f5e]“If anyone is going to kidnap me, it’ll probably be you.”[/color] Poppy dramatically rolled her eyes, bringing in more sass than she intended, before reaching for her bookmark. Once her book was closed, she left it on her dresser and made her way to her best friend. Gazing at him, Poppy amusingly eyed his movements as he struggled to get back on his feet. [color=fe6f5e]“One day you’ll stick the landing. When that day comes, I'll let you in on a secret, but until then…”[/color] The half dressed freshman mouthed, [color=fe6f5e]“...My lips are sealed.”[/color] 

Standing at his full recent six foot frame, the raven haired boy bowed like a failed magician at the beautiful brunette. The mention of a secret was not lost on him but he decided not to acknowledge it. With Penelope it could’ve been anything. It could be what she had for lunch yesterday or perhaps it was the last great mystery of the universe solved by a freshman high school girl from Massachusetts? Or maybe, just maybe, it was three little words, three syllables that he had been waiting to hear for ten years. Words he longed for but feared oh so terribly.

Charlie had been climbing through Poppy’s window for the better part of those long ten years but not once has he ever stuck the landing. The last time he used her front door was in second grade at her birthday party and even then, that was only because Logan had pushed him off of the bouncy house and he had cut open his cheek. Nurse Poppy made it all better though. A little kiss to take the pain away and a sick Power Rangers band aid to make him feel like a badass ignited feelings that he has held close ever since. 

Breaking away from time long past, he began, [color=D3D3D3]“I brought breakfast,”[/color] Charlie slung his bag off of his shoulder and unzipped the large back section to take out an obviously piping hot brown paper bag. [color=D3D3D3]“Fresh from the Pancake Diner, four Grammy nominated bagels with an assortment of toppings for m’lady, just leave me the one with cream cheese. You know I do love the shmear.”[/color]

[color=fe6f5e]“Aw shucks!”[/color] Penelope went to the bag he was holding up and took a peek, getting a nice waft of toasted bagels, [color=fe6f5e]“A man after my own heart,”[/color] she beamed. 

Fixedly looking up him with her big, fun-loving eyes, purposely for a moment too long, she decided to pull away and walk backwards. Stretching her arms up high, revealing more of her stomach, she casually ordered, [color=fe6f5e]“You know the drill, if you want to eat on my bed put a towel on it. If not, there’s always the floor. I’m going to throw some clothes on real quick.”[/color] 

Charlie tried and failed not to look at his friend as she stretched. They were hidden together in her room like they always had been, just the two of them. In their own private world how could he not notice her? It was a fated kind of thing; Charlie and Poppy were meant to be together, everybody knew that except for them, apparently. He lay a towel down on the bed as requested and took a bite out of some toasted goodness.

[color=D3D3D3]”Don’t be long, I got English with Beau first class today and he will kick my ass if I’m late again.”[/color]

With that, she nodded and scurried to her bathroom, which was connected to her sister’s room too. 

In the bathroom, she had some clothes waiting for her on hanging hooks. If her mom walked in on them with her wearing something this skimpy that would be the end of her. Her nipples were showing through the tank too. [i]Ugh.[/i] She had to do better. 

[color=D3D3D3]”Fuck, get it together Decker...”[/color]

Charlie sat down onto her bed with their breakfast and reached into his bag again, pulling out his latest read. Many might consider it a great juxtaposition that someone who looked like him, dirty flannels, black jeans, and a leather jacket that he didn’t know who Mark Twain or F Scott Fitzgerald were. Yet if one were to venture to the other side of Penelope’s window and into Charlie’s own bedroom you’d see a collection of books, grabbed from yard sales, thrift stores, and e-bay. First editions of forgotten classics and poetry. There were times where Poppy would look for some attention, knocking on his window trying to get him to go on some adventure but Charlie would be too engrossed in his literature to notice. She hated that and he knew she hated that.

He turned the page of his book, taking another bite from his bagel. [color=D3D3D3]”If you don’t get a move on, Pops, I’m eating your breakfast. I don’t even give a fuck.”[/color]

[color=fe6f5e]“Don’t you dare!”[/color] Jesus. No chill at all. He never gave her enough time to get ready! Then again, she had a whole hour to get ready but instead she chose to read her book. Before changing into anything, she knocked on the door that connected to her sister’s room, [color=fe6f5e]“Max! You better be up.”[/color] Ever since her sister got her driver’s license, she’s been sleeping in later and later. Well, it doesn’t help that she stays up all night being an overachiever. 

Groggily on the other side, her sister muttered, [color=52796e]“I’m up, I’m up. I hear Charlie. Tell him I said hi.”[/color]

[color=fe6f5e]“Max says hi!”[/color] Poppy called out to the boy waiting on her bed. Fortunately for the impatient boy, she only needed to throw on a [url=https://i.pinimg.com/originals/7c/1f/95/7c1f95d22b14ee5137a724c204e5eee0.jpg]big t-shirt dress[/url], black knee-highs, a jean jacket, and her overly used boots. Poppy was usually a jean kind of girl. Ripped or not ripped, she just liked pants. However, this year, she felt like taking a page or two out of Jade’s book and exploring the grunge style to look [i]cute[/i] (maybe even [i]sexy[/i] one day). Quickly, she applied makeup to give her eyes more of a pop, put a mid-tone warm nude matte lipstick on her lips, and finished her ensemble by adding a choker on. 

[i]Eh.[/i] 

Not anything the cheerleaders would notice, but she liked it. It was simple, yet still made her look attractive, in a comfy kind of way. Finally, she opened the door and rushed to the bed, hopping on it to get her bagel with strawberry cream cheese. Not starting up a conversation just yet, Poppy focused on devouring some of her bagel. After she chewed what she swallowed, she asked, [color=fe6f5e]“How’s your mom? She doing okay?”[/color] 

[color=D3D3D3]“Some days are better than others,”[/color] Charlie sighed as he closed his book and put it to one side. [color=D3D3D3]“Yesterday she had full vision, today she can only see out of her left eye. She’s trying to play it down but…”[/color] He began to fiddle with the ring on his left index finger, as he often did when he was uncomfortable or stressed out. Normally he wouldn’t divulge this kind of stuff but Penelope had always been different to most people. [color=D3D3D3]“The bills are stacking and working in the chop shop with Rey Rey isn’t cutting it. Decky mentioned he might have a spot on the corner for me.”[/color]

For as long as he could remember it has always just been Charlie and his mom. She worked day shifts at the Pancake Diner, nights at the Hole in the Wall or Edge of Sin and everything else she could in between to pay the bills. Charlie’s father was long dead and it was his actions that brought shame to the family. He was the reason the Deckers struggled. Charlie did what he could but it was never enough. 

[color=D3D3D3]“But that’s a last resort obviously,”[/color] He backtracked as much as he could, despite seriously considering the offer from Triple S. [color=D3D3D3]“Anyway, you want this book after I’m done? It’s Infinite Jest by David Foster Wallace.”[/color]

Frowning as she listened to him, hating the sight of Charlie feeling like this and struggling so much, but also glad that getting involved with Triple S was a last resort for him, Poppy muttered to his question, [color=fe6f5e]“Yeah that’s fine.”[/color] She knew very well he didn’t want to continue to talk about this topic, but she cared too much to stay silent. Wiping her hands on her towel, Poppy got off her bed and went to retrieve something. 

Gradually going on her knees to the floor, she pulled out a box from under her bed. When the lid was off, there rested a medium sized, old piggy bank and a few jars filled with coins and cash. Charlie would know this to be Poppy’s savings, from when she was small, all her allowances that she never spent, in order to help her family with emergencies and prepare for college. Placing it on the bed in front of him, she apologetically offered, [color=fe6f5e]“I know it probably isn’t enough but every penny counts, Charlie. And—”[/color] 

[color=D3D3D3]”Put it away Poppy!”[/color] Charlie snapped back. He was never short with Penelope, never unless something was wrong. He didn’t want her charity and he could never ask her to give up something for him. It’s not like she was a millionaire herself. [color=D3D3D3]”That's yours. I’ll figure something out.”[/color]

Frustrated but unwilling to show her, the Native American boy followed her off the bed and moved towards the window where he first entered the room.

[color=D3D3D3]”The smallest act of kindness is worth more than the grandest intention; Oscar Wilde. I appreciate the thought, Pops, but you already do enough for me. You give me a reason to get out of bed.”[/color] He smiled at her before opening up the window, preparing to climb out. 

[color=D3D3D3]”Last person downstairs has to eat the mystery meat for lunch!”[/color]

[center][color=azure]●[/color][/center]

When Charlie started to climb out, his voice faded away and his image disappeared in thin air. Charlie was no longer here. He was gone. It was as if he never visited and she was standing by her bathroom door looking at a room, unlike the one she remembered. The vibrant colors of years before didn’t seem to hold true anymore. Even if it was summer everything looked and felt bleak. The sunlight was only a mirage because if the sun was actually out, if there was warmth and light coming through her window, she wouldn’t feel so tired and empty. She would want to go out and play. At least that’s what the Poppy of yesteryear would do. 

A throbbing migraine, both bitter and sweet, ran from her head through her veins and to her heart, causing her chest to swell. Most days no therapy, no pill, and no person could make this overwhelming sensation go away. She surveyed her room. A colossal amount of clothes, puzzle pieces, and memories blocked her sight from seeing the floor. Her bed, the only discernible thing in this room, was left untouched. It felt like someone hadn’t slept on it for days, months, maybe a year even. 

Time evaded her, but that was okay. It was her day off. Stumbling her way to her closet, she forcibly pushed it open, the door seemingly stuck because of the surrounding mess. There she knelt down looking at a couple of boxes with Charlie’s name on it. Opening one, she shuffled through it, trying to look for another hoodie, since his other ones needed to get washed, and pulled out his leather jacket instead. 

How long has this been in here?  

Curiosity crossed her mind and she tried it on. [i]Heh[/i]. Charlie is so big in comparison to her. Lethargically pushing herself up, she walked to her wall, by her entrance door, where a mirror used to be and stopped in her tracks, [color=fe6f5e]“Oh.”[/color] That’s right. She no longer had access to mirrors anymore. Lifting her right hand up, she examined the healing wounds of cuts from shards when she tried to hurt herself. 

Sighing, not thinking too deeply into it, Penelope found her feet moving on its own accord and there she was, looking at a letter she placed on her desk. An unread letter addressed to her. How much did time pass since she went downstairs to check the mail and see any notes on the fridge left by her parents? Thirty minutes? An hour? Two? Who knows. It wasn’t like time mattered. 

This was all just a bad dream and Charlie? Charlie was out with Decky probably getting into trouble. Those two were double trouble, but that’s part of why she loved them so much. Opening her side drawer, meant for files, revealing a novel written by Charlie himself and a pile of letters on top of it, Poppy swept the other letter into the void and closed it, ignoring its existence completely, like she always has.

Grabbing her almost dead phone off the hard surface of her desk, Poppy went down to her knees once more but this time, she dropped to her side to look at her messages. Her fall was softened by her clothes. She was wearing an outfit she picked out for yesterday, which included sweatpants, a big t-shirt of Eeyore from [i]Winnie the Pooh[/i], and the teardrop necklace of her sister’s ashes. A new addition for the moment, Charlie’s leather jacket, but she would likely change into a hoodie before she left the house. He would tease her if he caught her wearing his jacket and she would be damned if she gave him the satisfaction. 

Instead of looking at new messages, she found herself opening a text from Charlie asking her to meet up at the gym. Her eyes glazed over at the texts after that, where she had frantically messaged him throughout the year, his phone still being in service but paid by her parents. Exasperatedly sighing, she sent a message: [color=fe6f5e]Let’s meet tonight. [/color]

Hesitantly, she started adding ‘I miss you’ but was quick to delete it and instead sent: [color=fe6f5e]Do you remember the secret I never told you?[/color]

[/color][/indent][/indent]