charlie-carrington-blog

[charlie-carrington-blog]

nathanielcrawfish:

   it had taken nathaniel nearly two years to master the guitar. he’d first embarked on his musical journey with his now favorite instrument around the age of twelve. his first guitar, a cheap piece of shit that he’d actually smashed out of spite, had been a christmas present from his father. later, when nathaniel’s parents divorced and it was jeremiah’s weekend, it slowly developed into a reason for the boy to hide out in his room. the only reason it had taken him so painfully long to learn was because he vowed early on to be his own teacher. at the time, he’d been painfully recluse and couldn’t stand to be around anyone at all. also, his issue with authority figures already rampant at this point. one time, though, with sweaty palms, nathaniel had ventured out of his room to ask if jeremiah would listen to him play a song he’d been learning. that did not happen on account of jeremiah crawford being passed out on the kitchen floor with an empty beer bottle in his hand and a familiar smidge of white under his nose. now, however, nathaniel’s eyes were shut tight and muscle memory took over. he didn’t need to look now. he could just…feel.

   after that traumatic childhood event, nathaniel truly started to desperately depend on the music  and the street graffiti to drown out the world and his own thoughts. ironically enough, it then slowly turned into the thing that got him out into the world and connected him with like-minded people. he participated in open mic nights, he joined band after band after band, learned valuable things about recording and producing and really felt like became a person he liked. as he sang now, the tingly feeling all over his body was welcomed like an old, beloved friend. his veins were running with electricity. beyond his closed eye lids, vivid imagery of himself singing this same song at a bar in colorado flashed by in scenes. he could see the crowd sparking joints and chugging beers - could almost hear the sounds of their laughter and loud cheering. he saw himself too. face flushed red, almost out of breathe, but alive. fuck, so so so alive. the sudden sound of a creaking floorboard brought nathaniel’s eyes flying open and froze his voice in his throat. standing in the doorway was a face he’d always hoped to see when scanning any crowd. as foolish as it felt, nathaniel’s heart had still held onto hope that maybe….maybe one day. one time. now that the time had come, he didn’t know what to say. wasn’t that always the case? a familiar heat was climbing up the back of his neck. he smiled shyly and let out a small chuckle. “i’m flattered, carrington.” the two hadn’t seen each other since the drunken st. patty’s day kiss and much to nathaniel’s dismay, he did not feel any less smitten with charles. the way he leaned up against the doorway, gazing at nathaniel lovingly definitely did not help the situation. he swallowed hard before continuing. “you’re not intruding one bit. in fact, i was about to spark a joint if you’d like to join me.” he pulled the tightly rolled j from behind his ears and smirked a bit. “maybe i’ll even play a little more for you.”

anxiety somehow always found its way into charlie’s system when nathaniel was around. sweaty palms, heated cheeks, shaky hands- charlie was used to being a mess in front of nate. in fact, he had grown to embrace it, grown to love it, like the boy sitting on his bed before charlie. it had been awhile since he had seen nathaniel, actually. he almost missed the sensation of his heart pounding and the slight quiver of his voice. the last time charlie saw nate was st. patrick’s day- a night that mortified him to no end. he regretted how sloppy he got, how freely those damn feelings flowed out of him. he regretted acting on those feelings, feelings that he swore were gone. he didn’t regret the kiss, definitely not, but he refused to let his mind linger on it. shaking his head, mostly at himself, charlie took a step into nathaniel’s room. “offering to share your joint and play more guitar? you must be in a good mood,” he chuckled as he took a seat on the bed, trying to leave enough space between them. maybe he was making a mistake, but after everything with tyler, maybe being honest with nathaniel (with himself) was the right move here. taking a deep breath, he looked down at his hands, trying to compose his thoughts. “hey, look, i...” he mumbled, not satisfied with how he started. shaking his head slightly, he frowned at himself, “i’m not the smartest guy, so bare with me, words aren’t my strong suit.” now was the time to be honest, he realized that. if he was going to be around nathaniel, he needed to do this. “i...” he let out a pathetic laugh, before grimacing down at his hands, “i keep thinking about st. patrick’s day and the past, like a lot. and i think i need to be honest here. i really want to kiss you again, and- and not like just a quick kiss or anything, but li-like...”

[charlie-carrington-blog]

charlie had only been back in the high-rise for a couple of hours, but he was already dreading it. he was doing his best to keep a smile on his face, however, the idea of running into his fiancée was enough to make him nauseous. since he returned home from his vacation with tyler, he felt hollow and in need of something that he couldn’t identify. when he received the notification that filming for season two would begin soon, he paled at the thought. his reasons for being on the show seemed less and less like his own, and more and more like his parents’. he didn’t consider the cast to be his friends, at least not the genuine type. he only trusted a few of them, one of which he was on his way to visit: willa. if anyone could cheer him up, it was her. charlie turned down a hallway, heading for the blonde’s room, when he heard the guitar. he slowed his pace and cautiously approached the room – the door wide open. as he got closer, a more than familiar voice rang out (‘i got something to say...’) and a small smile spread across charlie’s face. leaning against the doorframe, charlie shoved his hands into his pants pockets and quietly listened. it had been a long time since charlie had heard nate sing, too long really. the last time- the last time he had, they were in nathaniel’s old place. charlie laying on the floor, staring at the cracks in the ceiling, legs crossed and foot tapping. he would daftly think about taking up the drums that afternoon, think about telling nate, think about them playing together – maybe even playing tiny gigs together in tiny dive bars. a week later nathaniel would be gone though, and those thoughts would disappear with him. charlie watched the boy’s fingers as they gracefully strummed the strings and his hand glided along the neck of the guitar. nate looked good with a guitar in hand, he sounded even better when he sang along. at first, when it was all still new to him, charlie would regularly tease nathaniel about his voice (‘oh no, please, no more of that awful wailing, i beg of you!). but after awhile, charlie found himself asking nate to sing just one more song. to be honest, charlie grew to love nathaniel’s voice, it often smoothed his nerves and gave him peace of mind. even in this moment, charlie felt no need to seek out willa, at least not right then – he rather listen a bit longer. without much thought, charlie shifted his weight and moved his shoulder along the doorframe, his body relaxing into the position. however, the wooden frame creaked with his movement and charlie’s heart raced, his cheeks reddening as he made direct eye contact with nate. “oh fuck, um,” he quickly straightened up, removing his hands from his pockets and rubbing them on his thighs. looking away, he could feel the blush spreading up his neck to his ears. “um, h-hey, sorry i wasn’t trying to intrude or anything... it sounds- you sound good, though...”

it had been three weeks since nathaniel had received a letter in the mail from the show’s producers notifying the cast about specific dates and times to be back on set to begin filming season two. at first, nathaniel had grimaced, tossing it to the side and effectively pretending he hadn’t read it or even opened it. at first, he dreaded the idea of going back to the highrise and having to work with his pretenious co-workers once again. during the three weeks of free time that the cast was granted, however, nathaniel had taken up a little bit of a renovation project. well….actually “a little bit” was an understatement. in order to turn the abandoned warehouse into the art space he knew it was destined to be, it would be more like a full-scale operation. still, he hadn’t felt this good since when he first landed in colorado. he was doing things for himself, he wasn’t staying alone in claudia’s “much too spacious for one person” house. having to come back for filming had completely slipped his mind and when the time did come to return, his grumpiness had melted…..slightly. this is still nathaniel crawford after all. he returned to his room at the highrise and was currently playing guitar at the edge of his bed while also loudly singing “joe arpaoi is a punk” by andrew jackson jihad. 

[charlie-carrington-blog]

willaduffy:

“This is a very pressing matter Charlie, you never know I could very well meet the love of my life on one of these trips and if that happens I would die of mortification if i wasn’t adequately dressed!”

“Also don’t be a big baby, i barely even touched you! Now this is a punch.” She clenches her right fist and punches his shoulder again, this time with a lot more strength behind it. As soon as she completed the hit she quickly runs away far enough to place some furniture between them, laughing all the while.

“The love of your life?” He laughs too hard at the thought, “Okay, wait wait, so you're planning to find a boyfriend while we’re abroad?”

“Wait, wha-” he can barely get his response out, before her fist makes contact with his shoulder again. This time it hurts, and he recoils in pain. “Damnit! Okay, now that hurt!” Grabbing his sore arm, he tries to think of the quickest route to Willa. He grins as he goes to jump over one of the chairs in-between them, “Now it’s my turn!”

[charlie-carrington-blog]

juniperswin:

juniper was itching for something, and she didn’t know what it was. she was still in her pajamas, which was just a huge t-shirt with some dumb slogan you would see walking down a trashy boardwalk and heart dotted boxers she didn’t remember getting. she hadn’t done much today, aside from lay around, scrolling through social media, feeling the constant dread weighing on her chest. she wasn’t surprised to see someone in the kitchen when she went to go see what snacks were lying around, he looked tired. “sure,” she said, with a grin, knowing full well he had barely recognized her presence. “rough day?”

charlie lifted his head and gave the girl a once over, vaguely wondering if he had seen her t-shirt somewhere before. after a moment of consideration, he decided he hadn’t and pushed himself off the counter. he grabbed a beer from the fridge, opened it, and passed it towards juniper. he raised his own bottle, tipping it toward her, before taking another sip. letting out a tired laugh, he nodded, “yeah, you could say that.” he looked at juniper again and smirked, “your day just starting?”

[charlie-carrington-blog]

willaduffy:

Willa sighs dramatically, halfheartedly punching Charlie in the shoulder. “You’re supposed to help me! Not leave me with the same question i had before!”

Charlie snorts as he feels Willa’s punch. Jokingly he pouts and rubs at his shoulder, “Ouch, well excuse me! Sorry, but not all of us have the answers to life’s most pressing questions.”

[charlie-carrington-blog]

“Does it matter? I’m sure it’ll be somewhere warm, so why not just pack for warm weather?” He considers his words for a moment, before he hums in thought, “But maybe they’ll take us somewhere cold, like Russia or the Alps...”

“Anyone have a clue as to where our first destination is gonna be? I’m going to  need ample time to pick the perfect outfits to pack.”

[charlie-carrington-blog]

[charlie-carrington-blog]

tylerzhenry:

a stranger? she’d be silly not to understand how he could think that of her, but it still hurts. of course he was confused, she was confused herself. it seemed as though she had to be a different person everyday - tyler the fashion infuencer, tyler the fiancé, the it-girl, ivy league tyler, tyler the perfect daughter, tyler the witty bitch, tyler the drama queen, tyler the poised princess, tyler the token black girl - and to no end. it wasn’t entirely her fault. almost every aspect of her entire life had been planned without her permission, and being with charlie was no exception. she had been acting for so long that it almost felt natural to be more than one person. for a long time she wasn’t sure about with face to put on with him, but over the past few months she worried about it less and less. the masks had slowly but surely come off , and at last she had felt like she was being herself.  but when she looked at her reflection in the mirror she still couldn’t exactly pinpoint who was looking back at her. of course charlie thought she looked like a stranger. she was a stranger to herself. “what? no, i - p-please don’t say that. charlie, you know me. you know me.” the words come out like a beg, like some spell that could make this all better - please know me, please tell me who i am, please understand. “you know me.” hearing his reply spreads an instant feeling of shame throughout her body. for a split second she wants to tell him everything. she wants to explain how things had gone so wrong, what was going through her mind when she had first contacted jack, how she could do something so dishonest and absurd. she wants to tell him about her parents, how her desperation for their attention and love had pushed her to the edge, how their abandonment stirred crazed thoughts in her mind and drove her to do foolish things. how jack was the answer, at least at the time. how charlie’s sincere empathy and concern had touched her so deeply that she didn’t feel so alone in this world anymore. she wants to tell him that he’s changed her, helped her, almost saved her from whatever curse had clutched her heart for so long. she wants to explain everything that was going through her mind, her lips even part to do so, but in an instant, charlie has thrown his whiskey glass across the room, the impact of the loud smash making her shriek. a chill runs down her spine. “god dammit!” she howls, her hands at her sides folding to make fists almost instinctually. who was she? she almost lets out a laugh. she doesn’t respond to the question. at this point she couldn’t really tell him - didn’t really know. what she did know was that for him, she wanted to be the tyler he had seen in her. the tyler he had been with for the past month, the one that was always smiling and easy to be around. the tyler he had held in his arms at night, and woke up to in the morning with a grin on his face. she wanted to be that tyler for the rest of her life if it meant that they would be happy. she shakes the thought out of her head. it didn’t matter anyway, not now. whatever picture he had painted of her was gone now. all he saw was a monster. but she could be that tyler, too. “fuck me? fuck you!” she shouts back. the words dart out of her mouth before she has time to stop them. “storming in here like some self righteous jerk! throwing glasses at people like a carbon copy of atticus! fuck you, charlie!” she huffs as she watches him storm into the bedroom. “not everything is simple, not everything is easy to explain. you wouldn’t - you wouldn’t understand, charles. you won’t. not this.” what was he doing? was he planning to leave? her jaw trembles. she knows it won’t be long until the tears come, but she holds onto her composure for dear life. she observes him in bitter silence as he haphazardly tosses his clothes into his suitcase, then tosses it in the living room. her stomach twists at his ultimatum. she knows she’s not going to get another chance to tell him, she knows he had every right to be doing this, she knows that if she doesn’t tell him the truth that their relationship could be irrevocably damaged. she takes a second or two to consider these things, and she knows the right thing to do. she just can’t bring herself to do it. “no,” she softly speaks, her head slightly shaking from side to side. she lowers her head. tyler can’t believe she could be such a coward. “i can’t..” she whispers, barely audible. she blinks and a single tear dashes down her cheek. she doesn’t move to wipe it away. “i can’t,” she whispers again, her voice still pitifully low, now wavering. the sentence physically pains her to say. another tear falls, and then another. she tries to close her eyes to make them stop, to make it all stop, but it doesn’t work - the world around her still continues to crumble. she doesn’t want him to leave. she feels like she’ll break into a million tiny pieces if he walks out of the door and leaves her here alone, but her mouth won’t let her tell him the truth. she doesn’t know if either of them are truly ready to hear it. she doesn’t want to say her faults, she can’t. “i can’t.” she says a final time, her hand lifting to wipe away stray tears. she exhales a defeated sigh, finally looking charlie in the eyes. “i’m sorry,” she tells him genuinely, but it sounds so impersonal, like saying sir at the end wouldn’t have made much of a difference. “i’m sorry, but i can’t.”

charlie can’t even look at tyler as she insists that he knows her – he might have, maybe, but not anymore. he might have known a version of her, one that gave off the impression of fondness and genuineness. the girl before him though, no, she was a different story, a different person. “what else am i supposed to say?” charlie isn’t speaking to tyler, not directly at least, “what am i supposed to say now that i know the truth?” he tries to ignore the tremble in his voice, because now is not the time to cry- ‘carringtons don’t cry, boy’. charlie wants more than anything to cry, though. he wants to put his head on tyler’s shoulder and wrap his arms around her, to cry it all away. to sob until his body shakes and his eyes burn, he wants tyler to hold him and tell him it isn’t true. that it’s a misunderstanding and she’s the same person she always was. but that’s not happening. “i don’t know you, i don’t- i don’t think i ever did,” he admits, his eyes watering, tears threatening to fall. he shakes his head, looking away. as much as he hates it and it hurts to say aloud, it’s true. charlie laughs bitterly at her comments, his pace racing. “self righteous jerk? you think i’m in the wrong here?” bullshit. bullshit. bullshit. but suddenly he feels like he’s been knocked to the ground as his stomach drops, carbon copy of atticus. when charlie was eleven, he witnessed his father throwing plates around the dinning room. his mother told atticus that she wouldn’t bare another child, that she wasn’t sure she could. atticus, of course, took that as a personal attack, had raged at charlie’s mother – had threatened her. charlie was certain that he would never become his father. “don’t, tyler, do fucking not,” he warns, taking a step back from her. but she’s right, he was more like his father than anything else. his foot bumps into his duffel bag as he accusingly pokes a finger at her, “you know what? i wouldn’t understand, you’re right. we’re two completely different people. i may be an ill-tempered, alcoholic disappointment, but at least i’m honest. i was always honest with you.” charlie watches as tyler breaks down, and he wants to embrace her. he wants more than anything to wipe away her tears and kiss her gently. he wants to make her smile, to tell her some cheesy joke and see her laugh. he wants to… but he can’t. he can’t let this go without an explanation, and if she can’t give that, then he can’t stick around. her apology sounds as howl as his heart feels. he clicks his tongue in disappointment as he throws on his jacket. slowly bending down and picking up his bag, he thinks that maybe this is for the best. maybe things were never meant to be between them, maybe people like him don’t deserve happiness. pulling out the handle of his suitcase, he turns back to tyler one last time. “you know, for a moment there, i thought we had a chance. for a moment there, i really- i really loved you,” he whispers, still too weak to look at the girl, “i’ll see you around, tyler.” he gives her a small nod, before he pushes his luggage out and closes the hotel room door behind him.

before //

[charlie-carrington-blog]

omg hello everyone!! sorry i wasn’t around yesterday, but i’m here and ready to rumble! to the new members, hiya! – and to the returning members, what’s going on??!

anyway, just wanted to say hi and let’s plot, even if we have plots, let’s muse and plot more~

[charlie-carrington-blog]

tylerzhenry:

tyler bites her lip as charlie steps away from her. a small gesture, but it feels like a punch to the gut or a twist of the heart. how had things changed so quickly? it all feels like some really bad dream that she can’t quite wake up from. all she wants to do is hold him somehow, place her hands on either side of his face and make him see that this was all just a big misunderstanding. he knew her, he had seen who she really was, had grown closer to her over the last few weeks. it was her fault for not showing that side of herself sooner, she knew that, but he had seen it now, didn’t that count for anything? wasn’t that a reason to be more sympathetic? did he have to speak to her like that? her frown deepens on her face at his question. “you’re usually coming in this room with a smile, or about to tell me some joke. o-or recounting some story about something you saw while i was away from you. you’re usually - you’re gentle and open, and not… so callously composed.” she sighs, trying her luck again and stepping closer to him. “you’re warm, charlie. you’re warm and you’re kind and -” her voice falls to a whisper. “ you’re not this.  you don’t look at me like this, like i’m some stranger or something.” she watches him pour another drink and her heart is beating even faster now. she can’t even think straight because of the sound of blood pumping in her ears. but then all at once, her heart sinks to her stomach at his words. she knew the question would come one day, but she hadn’t expected it so soon. she hadn’t quite formulated her excuse, doesn’t know how to make it sound reasonable out loud, like it does in her head. for half a year now, she had felt like her actions were justified. this long, meticulous, plan of hers had a reason - a good reason, in her eyes. but now, seeing charlie’s face, looking at him regard her the way he was, things weren’t so emphatic anymore. she felt so foolish. she had never wanted to involve him like this, he didn’t deserve to get caught in the crossfires of an aim that wasn’t really meant for him. but she can’t bear to explain all of this to him, either. she isn’t ready. “i can’t tell you. i don’t - i don’t want to tell you…” she whispers, eyes falling to her feet. she feels a warm pressure build behind her eyes and her cheeks at the thought of telling charlie her secret. what would he think of her? surely it couldn’t be worse than what he thought of her in this moment. any reasonable person would have just told the truth, and her fiancé was an understanding person, she knew that. but for tyler, it’s easier to allow charlie to believe that she was crazy, or horrible, or maybe even a selfish monster rather than know the truth about her. because to know and to understand would mean that on top of all of those bad things he saw in her, he’d know that she was pathetic too. pathetic and scared, and driven by an inescapable sorrow that had festered in her since childhood. and right now, she felt vulnerable like a child. it was all becoming too much to handle. when she speaks again, her voice is almost unrecognizable. the wall that had gradually come down over the past month by virtue of charlie’s softness, now steadily rising again and was clearly present, like a third person in the room. the mask she always wore when she was afraid, now securely put back on. she knew that there was no turning back from the things that she was going to have to say to him. she folds her arms over her chest, her head lifting to look at him again, eyes almost as cold as her tone. “you wouldn’t understand.”

charles had been called a lot of things, some he enjoyed, others he rather forget. but callously composed – that was new. he would have laughed it off like any of tyler’s other insults, if it weren’t for the fact that all he felt was anger and disappointment. he could barely hear her kinder words, gentle and warm, over the pounding of his heart. “well i’m sorry, ms. henry,” he begins, but as he takes in tyler’s state, his words lose their bite, “but you do look like a stranger to me...” the tyler he knew was a lie, she always was. just an act for the media and prying eyes, she was never the girl she pretended to be with charlie. and it’s charlie’s fault for believing otherwise. just like the publicity stunt with jack, charlie had gotten swept up in something that was deviously tailored for- for what? the public? for attention? for fun? he had just been a fool on a string, meant to play the role of a concerned fiancé, and maybe that’s all this was to begin with. maybe these past months meant nothing to tyler, just another way to make it more realistic, to make their relationship seem more realistic. charles stands frozen, waiting for tyler���s response, waiting for an answer. he can’t even stomach the idea of drinking more whiskey, he needs to know why first. why would she make it all up? the girl’s reply makes charlie sick as his stomach twists and his heart clinches. “you can’t...” he can barely speak above a whisper as he stares at her in disbelief, “you d-don’t want to tell me?” charlie instantly thinks of the moment in the kitchen, in the show’s high rise, when tyler cut her hand. he remembers her pushing him away, telling him he wouldn’t understand. charlie swallows thickly as he tries to think of something to say. looking down into his glass again, he feels like the old charlie – the one who found comfort at the bottom of a beer bottle, the one who was too afraid to make his own choices, the one who he tried to move on from. determined to talk this out, he looks back to tyler and feels his heart stop at the cold eyes looking at him. you wouldn’t understand. charlie feels his blood boil as his cheeks redden from a strange, overwhelming mixture of embarrassment and frustration. without much thought, charlie spins away from tyler and throws his glass of whiskey at the wall. the sound of shattering glass does nothing to calm his temper and he turns back to his fiancée face flushed with anger, “what the fuck? who the fuck are you?!” he doesn’t bother to look at her or wait for a response, he doesn’t need one now. he needs to- he needs to leave. before he throws anything else or worse... “fuck you, tyler. fuck you, fuck jack, fuck everyone,” he growls before he walks away and into the bedroom. quickly pulling his suitcase out of the closet, he throws his remaining clothing into it. “how can you even say that to me? i wouldn’t understand huh? then help me understand!” he yells over his shoulder. zipping up the suitcase, he drags it into the living room and throws it next to his duffel bag. “tyler, i...” he stops himself, and takes a deep breath, “either you tell me why, or i leave.” it’s not much of a bargain when you think about it, but the idea of staying in a room with the girl one more minute makes his skin crawl. he glances at the stain of whiskey on the wall, feeling far too much like his father now.

before //

[charlie-carrington-blog]

[charlie-carrington-blog]

tylerzhenry:

one sentence from the boy’s lips and she knows that her entire world has changed. how she had let it get this far? not even tyler knew the answer. she damns herself as she watches charlie walk away from her, overcome by a wave of guilt. suddenly she’s panicky, her heart races as she scrambles for something to say that doesn’t come off as dubious. “i -” she murmurs, choosing to follow him further into their suite. seeing charlie like this put her on edge - alert and cautious about every word and every move she makes. “i don’t know, i didn’t say that. i didn’t expect anything, you just - i hadn’t heard from you.” she stammers finally, voice almost cracking from her fear. what had he seen? what did he know? did he know anything? could she still get out of this? she clears her throat.  “i-i just meant with your dad and everything, i guess. i know he can make you upset sometimes..” she says, this time more calmly, her tone a phoney shade of friendly. maybe she could bluff her way around this. maybe it had been something else that made the boy so tense. she prayed that this was the case, but when he opens his mouth again, she’s unsure. her heart flits and her hands grow prickly with the threat of sweat. was the alarm that consumed her really so evident that he could see it? did he see it? she inches closer to the charlie, eyes glued to his hands and how they lift the glass of alcohol to his lips. she grimaces at how much he ingests at once - an obvious indicator that something was very wrong with him. she frowns as he finally turns to face her. his expression is one that she recognizes in his features - the look of disappointment that plagues his hazel eyes, the sadness that curves his brow.  she has to resist the urge to run over to him then, because she’s a sucker for that look. but mostly, because she knows things aren’t the same between them, and she fears that they won’t be able to get back to where they were. “ are you sure? because - because you seem - not like yourself..” she takes another cautious step towards him, but stops herself from another. alone? she tries to ignore how much that word stings. the couple hadn’t spent more than five minutes apart for the entire month, aside from this weekend. they hadn’t wanted to be apart. she almost lets it go, almost walks out of the room to give him the space he obviously wanted, but she can’t. and then she does it, she asks a question that she knows she’s going to regret later. “what’s wrong, c?”

“ha, my dad...” he laughs bitterly at the thought. she’s not wrong, for as long as charles can remember, atticus had never praised him for anything. he had only ever harshly criticized or physically reprimanded his son. spending time with his father was one of charlie’s least favorite pastimes. “my old man was actually the most pleasant part of the weekend,” he darkly muses, taking another sip of his whiskey. he tries to remind himself that he needs to be levelheaded about this, not to fly off the hinge like his father would. he’s not is father but... how could someone stay calm knowing that their fiancée had lied to them? how can someone stay indifferent when they know that all that time spent worrying was for nothing? how could tyler be so selfish? he didn’t expect this from her, he thought she was better than that. he thought he knew her- no. there has to be a different, a better, reason for all of that. he can tell by her trembling voice that she’s nervous about something, and for once, he thinks he knows exactly what it is. watching her closely, he can’t help the way his eyes narrow and his ears redden. there has to be a better reason, she wouldn’t be so selfish... right? as she takes a step towards him, he moves farther back and tightens his grip on his glass. “not like myself, huh?” he hums lowly, sips more whiskey, and walks towards the windows. “and since you know so much about me, tyler, why don’t you tell me then-” he turns back to her, eyes hard, “what am i usually like? since you know me so well.” he scoffs at the nickname. she recently began calling him that, and the moment she spoke it, his stomach twisted and his cheeks warmed. it was like a hearing a new language, the way it rolled off her tongue. it was different than carrington and charlie, it was new. he loved that nickname, because she was the first to use it, she had chosen it for him... he looks down into his glass, the whiskey light enough in color to see the bottom of the glass. he wonders if he can finish his drink in one gulp, almost welcoming the burn sensation – anything to get ruin of the disappointment eating away at his heart. he still feels too warm as he tries anyway and chugs the last of his drink. he frowns at the singeing aftertaste, but eyes the bottle of whiskey on the bar cart. “i’ll tell you what’s wrong, tyler, but only if you answer a question for me,” he bargains dryly as he walks back to the bar cart. he unscrews the cap of the bottle and pours himself another full glass. closing the bottle and placing it back in its place, he turns around and leans against the cart as he crosses his arms over his chest. he looks tyler over and frowns. it looks like the woman he spent the month with, the woman he couldn’t be apart from for longer than a few hours. it looks like the woman he texted ‘good morning’ and ‘good night’ to, the woman he began dreaming of walking down an aisle in white. it looks like the woman he thought he knew. but maybe he was wrong, maybe he didn’t know her at all... “why, tyler? just give me that much, why?” it sounds like a broken sob, and he has to look away to keep his emotions in check.

before //

[charlie-carrington-blog]

[charlie-carrington-blog]

vacation in the alps had been almost perfect. charlie's feelings for tyler had changed over the course of the show. after season one was wrapped up, charlie had spent a lot of time at their shared apartment – more than he normally would. he enjoyed being around tyler, something that was new for him. he felt like he had a genuine friend in the girl – he felt like he could actually see a future with her. one that didn’t involve harsh hushed arguments or pretending to be happy. when charles was informed about the trip to switzerland, he was excited, more time to bond with tyler? he wanted that more than he thought. at first, it was the trip in its entirety – the amazing mountains, the great skiing, the luxurious hotel. but in time, it became the little things, her gentle smile, her laugh lines, her cute snores. charlie’s feelings were slowly melting into something else, and he didn’t know what to do except bask in the sensation. he was having such a good time during the vacation that when charles received the call from his father to return to new york for the weekend, he almost refused. of course, he didn’t though. he packed his bags and promised to come back as soon as he could. charles was certain that the worst part of his weekend would be spending time with his father, however, that wasn’t the case. charlie landed back in new york and went straight to a company meeting. after three hours of talking oil and business, all he wanted was to go home and sleep- and maybe order pizza, but mostly sleep. he would also need to text tyler before he passed out, that was another must. yet as he reached the apartment door, charlie realized something was different. he couldn’t put his finger on it, but something was...off. after rummaging through his duffle bag for his keys, he gently pushed the door open and found the apartment in disarray. his eyes scanned the living room, chairs turned over, coffee table smashed, glass shattered about. as he slowly moved through the kitchen, he found things roughly the same, broken dishes and food thrown onto the floor. charlie was in the hallway when he heard it, though. it was the sound of someone moving about the apartment. someone else was home. grabbing the nearest object he could find, a cy twombly replica, he swiftly made his way towards the noise. the next forty-eight hours would prove to be one of the most telling and tormenting time of charles’ young life. after walking in on tyler’s “stalker”, jack, ransacking their apartment, charlie would then spend his weekend between mentally demanding meetings with his father and borderline insane confessions from jack. when charlie got back onto the airplane, he wasn’t sure what to do. tyler had lied. she had made the entire thing up and had played charlie for a fool. she had him wrapped around her finger, and when she said jump, he did. she lied and now he wasn’t sure who he was returning to – certainly not the tyler he had been falling in love with... before entering their hotel room, charles takes a deep breath. don’t loose it, charlie, keep calm. he slides the key card into the device and opens the door, half wishing tyler was on the mountain and not in the room. however, that isn’t the case as tyler jumps up from her seat. deep breaths, carrington, don’t think about it. ignoring tyler is the only way charlie can remain calm as he drops his bags and removes his jacket. he can’t even look at her, he feels nauseous and too warm. he wants to tune out her timid whispers, but her last comment catches his attention. “make sure i was okay? why wouldn’t i be, tyler?” he hisses, still refusing to make eye contact with her. instead, he heads further into the living room and over to the bar cart. “did you think something bad happened to me? were you expecting something to happen?” he harshly accuses as he picks up a bottle of alcohol and inspects it. he sits it down again, and grabs another, glancing over the label. satisfied with his choice, he grabs one of the whiskey glasses. “because you’re giving off that vibe and it’s...” he trails off as he pours himself a full glass of whiskey. he downs half of the glass in one go, wincing at the way the liquor burns his throat, before he pours more whiskey into his glass. he releases a deep sigh and shakes his head. this time he only takes a sip of his alcohol. “i’m fine,” he tiredly whispers, turning to tyler, “i just need some time alone.”

before //

@charlie-carrington

after season one had wrapped, and the cast was allotted a month of a break, tyler was excited to get away on her own and relax by herself. she thought that she would have the opportunity to travel alone and finally escape everyone, but before she knew it she was being shipped away to the alpes with charles. something about a “couples vacation to show the public their bond as the wedding was approaching”, tyler wasn’t really sure nor did she care. spending time with charlie always felt like such a chore. she was certain that this trip would be insufferable and yet, to her surprise, it hadn’t been awful. nowhere close, actually. between spending their days skiing together in the mountains and cozying up in private, the two were having a good time together. they were finally at a point of mutual comfort with one another, and it was a nice change from their usual bickering. it was all forced upon them, of course. every public outing had been planned and prepped weeks in advance. but for the first time in a long time things felt natural between them. the vacation actually felt like a vacation, and tyler could see a light at the end of the tunnel. charlie wasn’t so bad. he had spent the entire month making her smile and laugh, genuinely, and when the thought of marrying him crept into her thoughts, she didn’t shun them out like she normally would. after a few weeks of getting closer to him, she almost embraced the idea of their future together. most of the time, tyler was so at ease she forgot that she was supposed to be acting. she had forgotten a lot of things  - the most important being a second staged break in with jack, her “stalker” back in new york. she had planned the event before they had left for switzerland, exchanged details of when and how, and had every intention of going through with it in the beginning. but upon spending so much time with her fiancé, she had a change of heart. she wasn’t so sure that she wanted to continue with this charade, or, at least, not involve charlie anymore. which would have been fine if she had remembered to call off the plans. but she was enjoying herself so much that her days started to merge into each other and her bliss had caused her to forget about the entire scheme. it wasn’t until charlie had left for new york for the weekend that she realized the mess that he would come home to. but it was all too late. all she could do was sit back and wait - wait for a worried text or a frantic call from the boy that would surely make her heart sink. but the call never came, and she went the entire weekend without a text from charles. she didn’t think much of it at first, perhaps jack had forgotten and their apartment was still in tact. perhaps everything was fine. but as the end of the weekend came around and she still hadn’t heard from him, she began to worry. it wasn’t really like charlie to not speak to her for so long, especially after the month they’d had together. finally, after almost three days of solitude, she hears their hotel room door open and - low and behold - there is charlie. she practically jumps up from her spot on the bed to approach him, but his ice cold demeanor makes her stop short. “hey, how was new york?” she asks casually, but he doesn’t respond to her. instead, he goes about his business as if she wasn’t there, like she didn’t exist at all. not speaking, not making eye contact with her as he hangs up his jacket or puts down his bags. she gives him a few more seconds before trying again. maybe he hadn’t heard?  “you didn’t text me or anything, so -” she starts again, this time in a doubtful whisper, uncharacteristically timid. she is immediately regretful of her decision to speak. “i just wanted to make sure you were okay..”

[charlie-carrington-blog]

Charlie leans back against the kitchen counter and pops the tab of his beer. If he’s going to attend business meeting after business meeting for the next few weeks without complaints, the least he could do is drink a goddamn beer – his mother owed him that much. After taking a long sip, he lets out a sigh of relief as his body relaxes. His father had been acting strange for the past week, asking Charlie to be present for every meeting, regardless of the situation. At one point, Charles had argued that he didn’t need to attend some event meeting about a luncheon (especially a luncheon that he wasn’t invited to), but his father had told him otherwise. At this point, Charlie just wants to lay down and never get up. Just a few beers, then a quick nap, before he leaves for his next meeting. He takes another drink, then notices a figure at the entrance of the kitchen. “Want one?” He lifts his beer to emphasis his offer, but he doesn’t bother glancing at the person.

[charlie-carrington-blog]

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[charlie-carrington-blog]