a quest for greener pastures —「charlie &. cachi, day 1」

When the river came into view, I’d been struck how much it reminded me of home.

I hadn’t expected to feel homesick so soon, but there I was, knapsack heavy over my shoulder, lute in hand, lost at the sight of waves crashing up along the shore. The cat tails swayed in an uneven breeze, and I swear I could hear the croak of a frog not far off.

They’d told us that there would be pieces of home in every arena, part as a mind flip and to keep us from breaking down completely. You could drum up an old piece of your heart from the sound of that river, or the way the sun scattered across the surface. Xavier would’ve said that I had gone soft too quick, and I’d have told him that was the problem sometimes. Not just so I could hide behind a double entendre, but that your head and your heart could never be too far off.

The type of people who tried to make ‘em separate were the ones that cracked apart.

I’d wandered away from Cor and Alpha because of the need for space. And the general fact that I had no clear sense of direction. Nor did I think about how there were still twenty other kids who wanted to hear another cannon go off today.

Probably still trying to get away from the sight of a girl losing her fucking head, too.

Christ.

And then it was as if the clouds parted and my prayers were answered – the ones I’d been making back in the apartment – that I had to throw up a thumbs up to the big one up above.

Charlie, out in the water, in nothing but his trunks.

I ain’t gonna spare you from the fact that he was the type of guy with rounded shoulders and a chest that popped out, you know, with the line in the center, where you could see the sort of work ten had weathered into his body? The careful shape of his back screaming down toward his waist, sheer athleticism. Thick thighs, ones he could snap my neck with, I’ll tell you that.

“Well now,” I strummed out a few cords, eyes staring down at his shorts. I couldn’t get a good view from the water whether or not he was hanging low or if he was a grower. There was time to find all that now.

“Charlie, you don’t have to threaten me for a good time.” I slipped my finger between the strings and raised an eyebrow. “Though I'm more into hand to hand.”

Water dripped down from his temples and into the river. Circles cascaded across the surface.

It wasn’t even fair that he could get himself wet and still look like that.

“Would it make you feel better if I stripped down with you?”

What sort of boys did Charlie grow up with?

I wished I’d paid more attention to what he’d said and done, less about how he looked. Was always the trouble when I didn’t place the emphasis on someone’s heart. Easier to let them go that way when you hadn’t taken a look at who they were as a person. I knew he had a family, cared about them, too – he wasn’t the type of boy to just let go of the people in his life. And I admired that, at least. We were similar in that way.

But I’d be lying if I wasn’t a little chafed by his existence. You ever look at someone and just know they’re what people expect men from Ten to be? And you sit back behind them out of focus in photos as the boy who also ran, the one they already knew was getting cut before things got serious. And you leaned into that – I leaned into that – because I was used to low expectations.

No one was wearing a Cachi pin expecting anything other than a few laughs and a throwaway line before I got run through the heart with a sword.

Well.

“Nice to see you too, Charlie. Real nice.” I grinned from ear to ear. He tried to warn me off about one of his allies, but it doesn’t faze me. I’d already survived a hell of a beating in the bloodbath. I wasn’t missing what might’ve been my only chance here. I strummed another chord. “I’m thinking of starting a tribute band – get it? Heh.”

He mentioned Xavier and the justice building and I paused. I came closer to the shore, quiet, and started stripping off the layers of clothes they’d put on me, now flecked with dirt from the cave and dried blood and tossed them next to me. When I’d wiggled out of my boots I was left standing with a pair of boxers and my skin drenched in the sun.

“Xavier?” His name came out and yet it felt so far away. I closed my eyes and tried to picture him and how he’d pressed me up against that big wooden door. We’d been together until we hadn’t, when he’d pulled away and we knew plain as day it was an end for both of us standing there.

I reached over into my bag and pulled out a little vial, popped the cork and took a drink. The gold liquid was warm as it passed down my throat. I started into the water and got close enough to Charlie to face him.

“He and I grew up together, and if I ever made it back yeah, we could have a thing going. But that was lust in the moment. Last time we got to see one another, and I wanted him bad. Sort of… well, for someone to make me feel the way I wanted before everything went to hell.” I held out the vial with the gold liquid – the truth serum – and angled it toward Charlie.

“You ever have everything going crazy around you, but get to feel something so good, nothing else mattered?” I whispered then. I stared at his chest again, how defined his whole body was. “To answer your question, I’m good now.”

I wondered what he tasted like.

“You want to feel that way, too?”

I’d done my best not to think too much of what I’d left behind.

There were two young girls who I’d give my whole life for if I could (I guess I already was?) and a little boy back on that farm. Cows that needed tending. A space so far out of view of these capitolites it’d never even make one of their screens, not unless they put together a schlocky flick about how the other half lived.

His mention of homesickness brought a shiver up through my back.

I guess I’d been living my whole life like a hound for adventure. Because when you live in a space where the most exciting thing is chasing a horse down that’d broken out its stable or a cow finally giving birth, you look for any means to make your own magic.

I’d found that in Xavier at an early age, when both of us could tell that schooling wasn’t going to lead us anywhere. We could cut up with one another and that was life, man – to have someone else who got me, who knew even shoveling cow shit we still had something special. Felt lucky, too, to sweat in the same heat or stand in the pouring rain, shoulder to shoulder with someone who’d fill your belly with all the laughs you needed.

“Truth serum – you know the game makers. Tastes like cinnamon, honey, and milk to me.” He drank before I could answer. Who knew what the truth was anymore, other than what we convinced ourselves?

Nostalgia had a hold on both of us, then. I couldn’t say if he’d passed it to me or I’d given it to him, but the fever burned between us.

And I just wanted – needed – to have someone who could know what that big sky country felt like.

“I’m sorry if that’s what I… what people have put on you,” I said. I listened to the water splash along the pebbles collecting along the shore. No one had ever looked up to me as some golden boy. The impression had always been so long as I kept my head above water, I’d have gotten further than anyone ever could’ve guessed.

My existence had never mattered to anyone, so I’d had the freedom to create my own image. And it was easy to preserve who I was if it meant leaning into being the boy no one thought would make it to graduation.

“I like to joke, but sometimes, I want more people to know that there’s shit I can care about.” It felt good to admit in the shadow of Charlie.

I moved closer to him and placed my hands on his hips. I stared up at the boy who’d refused his golden boy status and saw the butcher. The one who’d stripped away what I’d been pining over and revealed someone even better.

“Don’t think too much about it.” I gave a bit of advice and grinned. I slid my hands around his back and pressed in closer. “I’m a big believer in doing what feels right.”

I came close then, face in front of his, water dripping down both of our bodies, and prayed he could feel the same pull.

Not love, not lust.

Just a little piece of home.

“Is this okay?”