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[img]https://i.imgur.com/0PWoKqn.png?1[/img] [img]https://i.imgur.com/lZp205x.gif[/img] [img]https://i.imgur.com/3hfu7MH.png?1[/img]  
[b][color=darkgray]December 4, 2016, The James House[/color][/b]
[sub]A [@LovelyComplex] & [@BrutalBx] Collaboration
Featuring: [b][color=FE6F5E]Penelope James[/color][/b] & [b][color=D3D3D3]Charlie Decker[/color][/b][/sub]
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[indent]Conflicted, Penelope James looked at herself in the mirror as she slowly wiped the lipstick off with a cotton pad and water. She couldn’t decide if she was sad, angry, or a bit of both. When she saw herself, she saw someone who was weak, pathetic, and undeserving of love. When she saw herself, she saw someone stupid, insignificant, and full of wordless spite. Spite at the world, spite at herself. Spite. She was a fool to believe today would be any different. All she wanted was for him to notice her and that never happened. It never would happen.

It was stupid... these feelings.

From her lips to her eyes, Poppy grabbed her sister’s makeup wipes and gingerly started removing her eyeliner and eyeshadow. If she was disappointed in anyone it would be herself and not Charlie. She was too scared to share with him how she felt, she was too scared to take the first step, because she was too scared to be rejected by him. 

The idea of losing Charlie completely terrified her. She knew him all her life, they grew up together, and having him at her side was something that came second nature to her. She couldn’t imagine a future without him because all she wanted to do was be there for him. All she wanted to do was love him. 

At this point, the tears started sliding down her cheeks. 

No, don’t. Don’t cry. Don’t do it. 

With no control of the ache in her heart, and her teardrops turning into a waterfall, Poppy could barely see her reflection. Her deep breaths began to rapidly pick up. She felt like a shallow shell and she was having a hard time making it stop. Dropping the wipes in the sink, she covered her face and wailed. 

All this she kept locked up because she wanted to be strong. The reality was simple, she was a hot mess, who would never be anyone’s rock. She didn’t know how her father could do it so well. She didn’t know how he could support the town, especially the southside that was tethered to a harsh reputation, and still make time to check up on her friends, like Decky and Jade, and his family.

All her friends, they were incredibly lost and constantly falling into the repetitive patterns of Southside history. They each walked to their own sad song and had no means of changing the rhythm to something more uplifting. Her friends had their own ships in a storm, but no one had a sail. As she watched them struggle, safe on land, she wished she could be their sail… but no one wants a torn sail. No one wanted her. 

Penelope knew she should be grateful that her father worked his ass off to be where he is today. That her cards for a Southie was better than mostly everyone else’s and her family were breaching the line that would finally get them recognition with the northside. She should be grateful that her parents drowned themselves in work in order to make a difference. She should be grateful that her only issue was… 

Loving Charlie. 

But how could she? She was selfish, incredibly selfish. All she did was think of herself. She didn’t even visit Decky today because she was too busy thinking about Charlie asking her to be his girlfriend. She was stupid and probably would’ve been more happy if she visited Mordecai instead. Yet, all she wanted was Charlie. She just wanted Charlie. She just wanted Charlie. She just… no, she needed Charlie. She loved him so fucking much, it hurt.

Realizing her crying turned into hyperventilation, Poppy tried to steady her breathing. She needed to stop. What if Charlie visited? She didn’t want him to see her crying. Rushing to the bathtub, Poppy turned the shower on, still fully clothed in her red dress. Hopping in the shower, she sat under the falling water to let it blend with her tears. Closing her eyes, leaning against the wall, she let the water take over, absolutely soaking her. Calming herself, she breathed in and out. Breathed in and breathed out. Breathed in and out. In her meditative state, she lost track of time and felt her body finally relaxing…

Everything hurt.

From his head down to his toes, every fibre of his being was either stinging, burning or aching. Charlie’s face was a crimson mass of dried blood from his nose and mouth and a nasty split on his forehead. ReyRey had really given him a beating and if he was honest, he was surprised that he escaped with his life. Other people weren’t so lucky. A girl was dead and it was his fault. Charlie Decker was a murderer now just like his old man. He may not have tainted the drugs himself but he dealt them and that was enough. He killed Allison Davies. 

He looked up at his house, decrepit as it was, his home. The lights were off of course, his mother would be well asleep by now and lucky for him she slept like the dead so he wouldn’t wake her. She had already been through too much and her seeing him in this state, considering it may be one of the last things she ever did see, that was just a notion that Charlie didn’t want to face. He had spent the evening telling himself it was all for her. The money was so that she could medicate and hopefully sometime soon be able to afford proper treatment. Charlie did make bank tonight but Rey made sure to take every penny away as he hit him with that crowbar.

Dark eyes wandered across the driveway to the house next door, the James house. He was supposed to be with Poppy now. Tonight was supposed to be the night he finally told her how he truly felt, how he had felt from the moment they met. Yet that didn’t come to pass and now there they were. After pulling his aching body down the small divide between his and Penelope’s homes and bedrooms, Charlie began to climb the trellis outside her window. It was a climb he had made a thousand times before but this time it felt more difficult and just that little bit longer than normal. Finally he climbed through the open window and into her room. He could hear the shower running and thought better than to disturb her, so Charlie simply sat himself in a chair and hung his head back. 

What a night.

What broke her out of her daze wasn’t anything from outside but her own sneezing. She didn’t know how long she had been there in the tub but now she was cold. Penelope did feel a little better, after giving herself a good, long cry. Sometimes, a release like that really was all you could do to stop the painful thoughts. With a fuzzy head, she turned off the shower, stood up, and reached for her towel. 

A couple minutes passed where she was drying her body and her hair, her dress touching her petite frame ever so tightly. After drying herself to the best of her capabilities, shivering while doing so, she made her way to the bathroom door. She needed to warm herself up before she caught a fever. Or maybe she already had one. She didn’t know. A fever would be better than the heartbreak she was filling. 

Like the walking dead, she opened her door, with a gorgeous yet incredibly damp tiny red dress on, and went to her dresser to get a tank and pajama pants. Barely registering how exhausted she was, she did find the boy, beaten and bruised, on her office chair, lit by the moonlight peering from her window. Still, she needed to change, so he could wait. 

Rather than address him immediately, she went back to the bathroom, taking note that she needed some lotion on her skin, before it dried out. As she took care of business, behind the closed door, she offered in the highest octave she could muster this night (her voice was barely audible and can only be heard if you were actively listening), [color=fe6f5e]“I’ll bring the first aid kit,”[/color] before sneezing again.   

Charlie flung his head forward, a spec of blood falling onto Poppy’s carpet as he watched her enter the room. She was still clad in that beautiful dress she wore earlier but now it had been drowned in sadness. He didn’t say a word as she moved around the room. This was an all too familiar feeling. Charlie had developed a habit of entering Penelope’s chambers with some sort of wound. Genuinely, if Decker didn’t have bad luck he’d have no luck and by extension, so did Pops.

As the small girl went back into the bathroom, Charlie leaned forward and painfully began to pull off his leather jacket, letting it drop to the floor. He heard her sneeze and managed to smile, even just the sound of it was cute to him. [color=D3D3D3]“Bless you.”[/color] He glanced out of the window from which he had entered and the sound of sirens had begun to fill the night; they were close by and Charlie had no doubt in his mind where they were headed. When Edenridge woke up tomorrow, things would never be the same again; for anyone.

There was a light [color=fe6f5e]“Thank you,”[/color] on the other side of the door. It was deprived, lacking energy and emotion. Even in this state, Penelope mustered enough courage and strength to talk to the boy that hurt her. Unintentional or not. His plights caused him to forget about the people that mattered the most to him. 

Still, she wouldn’t be the “Street Angel” of the Southside, as Mordechai would call her, if she didn’t push her burdens aside to lift others up. After a couple of minutes, pajama-clothed Poppy came out with a bowl of water, soap, a wash cloth, and a first aid kit with antiseptic lotion and bandages. Not saying another word to her beloved friend and after she placed everything on her desk, she grabbed his chin with her cold hand and examined his wounds. 

Sadly, this wouldn’t be the first time she cleaned him up and she was sure this wouldn’t be the last. This, however, was the worst she’s ever seen him beaten and bruised. That cut… it might need stitches. She was no doctor but she could at least prevent his wounds from getting infected. Quietly, Poppy let a sigh slip out of her lips, trying to contain her concern and sadness from the boy that was watching her. First, she would need to clean all this blood. And so, the young girl began the process of… 

Biting the bottom of her lip, feeling that growing sensation in her throat, of wanting to cry again, Penelope tried her best to not let it get to her, to not cry in front of Charlie, and instead started washing his face, avoiding the eyes, and applying pressure to his visible wounds. His stare made it hard for her to focus so if she just avoided looking at his eyes completely she could focus on making him feel better. 

He didn’t know if it was the lack of sleep or if it was the multiple hits to the head that he had taken that day but Charlie was beginning to feel drowsy. He didn’t allow his increasing in weight eyelids to close or his gaze to leave the soft delicate features of Poppy James. He gently placed his hand atop her free one, as if reaching out for dear life; she was his lifeline, she always had been. [color=D3D3D3]“There was once a man who became unstuck in the world – he took the wind for a map, he took the sky for a clock, and he set off with no destination. He was never lost.”[/color] Charlie leaned forward and pressed his head against Penelope’s, holding her close in his embrace and stopping her in her tracks from healing him. [color=D3D3D3]“I got lost tonight.”[/color]

Being pulled in a hug, Penelope didn’t fight it and let him hold her close, their foreheads touching. She listened to him spill his heart out through a quote, as he usually did, and her heart continued to break. She remembered hearing this poem from the documentary, [i]Castles in the Sky[/i].  With the hand that wasn’t holding the wash cloth, she grabbed onto his shirt, clutching it. [color=fe6f5e]“No. You’re not lost,”[/color] she whispered back, trying to remind him that no matter how bad things got they had each other,  [color=fe6f5e]“You’re home.”[/color] 

As much as she wanted this moment to last forever, she knew his condition was not good, so she pulled herself away from him and asked,  [color=fe6f5e]“Are you sure… you should be here? I…”[/color] Grabbing onto his hand, kneeling down so she was looking up at him, she frowned, [color=fe6f5e]“I don’t know how bad you are… if you sleep, what if you have a concussion?”[/color] Oh, there they were. Her watery eyes started to tear up.  [color=fe6f5e]“I don’t want anything bad to happen to you, Charlie.”[/color] 

[color=D3D3D3]“As long as you’re next to me, nothing bad can ever happen and if it does, it’ll just be our next adventure.”[/color] Charlie pulled himself groggily to his feet, climbing out of his boots as he did. As he took several steps forward, every painful step forced his mind to remember the beating he had endured from the vile ReyRey Gonzalez. He could feel the thud of every fist, the sting of every boot and the crack of every belt whip. Falling down onto the bed that he had shared with Poppy so many times, Charlie reached out to a photo of them that sat on her bedside table. Happier times. He was much smaller then, he had less bags under his eyes and he was decked out in stripes rather than flannel. [color=D3D3D3]“Till Kingdom Come.”[/color]

Against her better judgement, Penelope put the bloody rag in the bowl and made her way to the bed. Going on the side with the least space, she crept on it, laid down, and turned her body to face him. She positioned herself in a way where she was close to him, but not where she was hurting any of his bruises and wounds. As he lay there exhausted and on his stomach, she reached out to him, the back of his head facing her. 

The night felt incredibly long and for the first time this whole night, she could feel how heavy her eyes were. Curling up beside him, in her own little area, she grabbed onto his hand and pulled it close. Sluggishly, her eyes closed and she breathlessly muttered,  [color=fe6f5e]“Always.”[/color] 

Always, at his side. 

Always, together. 

Till Kingdom Come. 
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