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miniscule-meow · 22 days ago

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Charlie & Felix: The Aftermath

This could have been two parts... but I wrote it as one so. BIG chapter! I hope you're into that sort of thing.

Masterpost

Wordcount: 4k

Warnings: swears, blood mention, puking? (idk. it's not graphic)

First Part | Last Part | Next Part

~*~

Light from the old truck’s headlights snag on bits of foliage as the trees lace together overhead. He drives as smoothly as possible down the quiet gravel driveway leading to his house. The path breaks through the tree line, and winds through a stretch of field, approaching a solitary structure.

“Your house is huge,” Charlie slurs from the passenger seat.

“Accommodations, since my school decided to transfer me here. They wanted me to have somewhere secluded, rather than risking me busting through the dorms. They called it a ‘barndominium.’”

“Wait. You didn’t like, get a choice or anything?”

“It doesn’t work like that,” he huffs in response. “I stopped getting choices when I started growing taller than 20 feet.”

“Oh. ‘m sorry.”

He just shrugs in response before he hops out of the truck, looping around to the passenger side in time to catch Charlie as she half stumbles- mostly falls out of the bench seat. He rights her, attempting to hold her steady on her swaying feet. She’s so close to him. He fights to maintain a regular size, getting all gigantic because he’s flustered isn’t going to help anything. Besides, he has more control than that, he asserts within himself. Though, he grits his teeth against the itch in his marrow- the electric feeling in the depths of his being that’s begging to be released.

Charlie curses and apologizes again, resting her head against his chest.

“You good?” He looks down at her

“I think I’m gonna throw up” she mumbles into him.

He quickly ushers her inside, taking her to the bathroom. Charlie rushes to the toilet and drops to her knees, already retching. His body moves without thought. In an instant, he's beside her, collecting her blonde curls, holding them away from her face as she vomits.

"I don't want you to see me like this," she chokes out between heaves, waving an arm at him trying to shoo him away.

"It’s a little late for that." He says, not budging.

Finally, after expelling the contents of her stomach, she flushes the toilet. He lets her hair slide through his fingers as he lets go. His thumb rolls over his fingers, then his fingers press into his palms. He closes then flexes his hand, unable to shake the feeling. The ghost of her warmth clings to his skin.

'Since when did I become her guardian-fucking-angel?' He thinks to himself, his brow furrowing.

"Ugh, I'm so sorry," she groans, sitting back on her heels, her voice muffled by her hands, "I'm never going to another party. never. I’m sorry."

"Maybe you just need better friends,” he crouches beside her, “You know, the kind that won't ditch you?"

Charlie blinks, staring into the middle distance for long enough that he thinks she's just zoned out completely. Then, her shoulders tremble- at first with laughter bubbling up from her chest. As he realizes that this is not a happy sound, she's choking on a sob, crumbling further into the floor.

Felix's frown deepens, he didn’t mean to make her cry. Uncertainty prickles across his shoulders.

He does not know what to do with the heap of curls, glitter and emotion that has found herself curled up on the cold tile of his bathroom.

Does he reach out to her? Does he say something? 'There, there. Don't worry...'

He's not good at stuff like this.

He stands, mumbling something about getting her some water, and he carefully steps around her.

It’s probably best to just let her sort herself out for a moment, he decides.

He steps out into the hall, making his way over to the kitchen. He finds himself flexing his hands again. He gets her a glass of water, then he heads over to the master bedroom, grabbing her a change of clothes. He grabs a simple black T-shirt, and a pair of black sweats that say “Rosehill” in white lettering, with the school’s red rose logo cutting through the word.

He takes his time walking back to the bathroom, knocking gently on the open bathroom door. She’s sitting up again, and though she looks miserable, she isn’t crying. This is a good sign, he supposes as he wordlessly hands her the glass. He sets the change of clothes down on the counter, and fishes through the cabinets for an extra toothbrush, unopened. While he’s at it, he grabs a towel and a washcloth and sets those on the counter as well.

She watches his methodical movements with hazy eyes, red from throwing up, puffy from crying. Her makeup is smudged around her eyes, streaking down her cheeks. His heart lurches, he looks away.

“Feel free to take a shower. There’s soap and stuff in there. I grabbed you some clothes you can sleep in, if you wanted to. I had an extra toothbrush. Toothpaste is here,” he gestures as he talks, feeling so stiff and awkward. “Anything else?” He wonders aloud.

“I think I left my phone in the truck.” Charlie murmurs, wiping her eye, smearing her eyeliner across her cheek.

“Right. I’ll grab it and plug it in for you. You… do whatever.” He leaves her to her own devices, this time shutting the door behind him. He’s only a few steps away when the lock clicks, and he hears the shower start to run.

He grabs her phone from the truck, her phone case is green and dotted with little stars and mushrooms. It’s vibrating when he picks it up. She’s getting a call from Jeremey, in fact, she’s missed five calls from him already. The call ends, sending him to voicemail. Almost immediately, the screen lights up with another call. The contact image appearing on the screen is a picture of the two of them, Charlie and Jay, side by side. Seeing them next to each other, he can definitely see the resemblance.

He stares at the phone in his hand. He could just leave it. He should just leave it. Just let the call go to voicemail like the rest of them and let Charlie deal with her brother later. He sighs, at the same time though, Jeremey can get pretty worked up about stuff. He could just let him know that Charlie is alright, that way he’s not freaking out all night. It would be a quick conversation.

How bad could it possibly go? He feels like he’s jinxed himself just by thinking that.

He seems to be starting a collection of bad decisions. Why couldn’t he pick something regular to collect- like stamps, or bottlecaps?

He answers the phone.

“Charlotte, thank fuck,” Jeremey’s voice explodes through the speaker. Felix jerks the phone away from his ear with a wince. “You can’t just send the most cryptic message and then vanish like that! What did you do, throw your phone into the fucking ocean? Are you alright? What happened.”

“Hey Jay, this is Felix,” He already regrets doing this. He could have sent a text.

“WHAT,” Felix is ready for him this time. Expecting the outburst, he’s already pulled the phone back some distance. Jeremey is off like a rocket, slinging accusations and threats in equal measure.

“Listen, Jay, do you want to know what’s going on or not,” he snaps after several failed interjections.

Jeremey goes quiet on the other end of the line. Though, Felix can still hear him muttering under his breath.

“She went to a party, got super drunk, her friends ditched her, and she called me to go pick her up. That’s it. From what I can tell, nothing else happened. I mean, she’ll definitely feel like hell tomorrow, but she’s in one piece. She’s fine.”

“She called you?” Jeremey questions after a moment.

“Yeah. I was also surprised, believe me,” Felix confesses.

“Let me talk to her.”

“She’s taking a shower right now. I can tell her you called, but honestly it might be better if you spoke to her in the morning, when she’s had a chance to sober up.” He doesn’t imagine that a conversation with Jeremey would be... productive for her right now. Not his decision to make of course, but Jeremey isn’t typically the comforting type, and Charlie has already been going through it tonight.

“She’s- where did you take her?” He can hear the suspicion and the venom building in his tone.

“Back to my place,” Felix replies, grimacing. This isn’t going to be pretty. He should have lied.

Jeremey makes an incredulous, strangled sound. His volume spike is instant.

“You mean to tell me that she called you, and then you decided to take my very drunk sister back to your place? Is that what I’m hearing right now?” His rage is barely contained, “What kind of sick attempt at a power play even is that?”

“Jay. It’s not like that. She—”

“You expect me to believe that you’re helping her? Out of the goodness of your cold, black heart?”

“No,” he says dryly, sarcasm seeps into his tone, “I expect you to keep yelling. You’re good at that.” This is, of course, the wrong thing to say. But he can’t help himself.

“Fuck you, man. Stay away from Charlotte. She doesn’t need you using her as a pawn in your fucking redemption arc, or whatever it is you're planning.”

Felix frowns at the phone. He can’t deny the fact that building an amicable relationship with Charlie would look good on his record. Something like that could very well get his position at Rosehill reinstated. It wasn’t like that didn’t cross his mind. But he’d hardly call that “using her.” Besides, even if he was trying to befriend her for selfish purposes, he was doing a terrible job at it.

She tolerates him at best. Her calling him tonight had to have been… a one off- a fluke. She said it herself; she didn’t have anyone else to call. He’s a last resort, the absolute bottom of the barrel.

“You don’t get to wake up one day, decide your someone else, and then expect everyone to fucking play along," Jeremey continues his barrage of anger. "I don’t trust you. I sure as hell don’t forgive you. If you so much as breathe wrong near Charlotte, I’ll shut you out of her life so fucking fast, you’ll think you imagined her.”

“Great,” Felix says, finally getting a word in edgewise. He could get into it with him about how Charlie should have a say in the matter of who gets to participate in her life. But, that would just wind Jeremey up more. The whole point of answering the phone was so Jay wouldn’t freak out all night. It’s not worth getting into all that with him right now. “Are you done?”

Jeremey just hangs up on him.

“Fucking perfect,” Felix says, looking down at the phone, surprised to see that his hand is trembling.

What was he expecting? A thank-you?

For once he tries to do something right. She needed help. She asked him for help. He picked her up, got her water and a fucking toothbrush and now her brother wants to skin him alive.

He can’t pretend to be shocked by that. It probably isn’t really even about Charlie. It's more-than-probably the reaction he deserved. But still. He didn’t expect it to feel like this.

The frustration and rage boils through him, culminating in an ache deep in his bones.

He wants to break something.

He takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself. Now isn’t the time for him to lose it. He’s still got Charlie to look after. He can’t take this out on her. The only thing she’s done wrong is trusting him. She shouldn’t get burned for that.

Breathe, Felix. Plug in the phone. Get your shit sorted.

Rigidly, he forces heavy steps back inside, nearly bumping his head against the door frame. He swears under his breath, ducking into his house and grabbing a charger. He plugs her phone in by the couch.

He steps back outside, stalking forward into his front yard. He rears back, sending his fist into the trunk of a nearby tree. It doesn’t do much to make him feel better, but it does split open the freshly healing wounds across his knuckles, rather efficiently.

He grows, an attempt to ease the pressure in his bones, the electricity crackling down his spine and over his fingers; to quiet the noise in his head.

He’s so tired.

Tired of making mistakes, tired of trying to clean up his own messes. Maybe he just can’t do anything right. Maybe he’s trying, but he’s just not good enough. He wasn’t good enough for his parents, he wasn’t good enough for Rosehill. What makes him think that he could possibly be good enough for Charlie?

After all, isn’t he just using her? Is Jeremey right?

He tries to hold on to his anger, it's something that he understands at least. It's easy to be mad about something. But this is somehow so much more than that. This is complicated. It's confusing.

Fuck.

He passes 30 feet, 40, he’s not slowing down when he reaches 50’. Usually, when he wants to get big, that’s where he feels most comfortable. That’s when people start looking like dolls, but he’s still able to interact with the world around him with some preservation of grace.

He doesn’t care about that right now. He pushes, shoving all of his energy into the transformation. His hurt, his frustration, his confusion, all just pushing himself further, bigger.

His black hoodie begins reaching its limit as he passes 60’. Once the fabric starts to pull tight across his shoulders, he pulls it off. As soon as it’s removed, it snaps back to its original size, basically disappearing between his fingers. He tosses the hoodie onto his porch; he’ll get it later.

Thankfully, the rest of his clothes are able to stay intact, even at the upper limit of his ability, 100'. He stretches, relishing in the freedom his size awards him. The large barndominium looks like a dollhouse next to him. He lifts his arms high, stretching up into the sky, before setting down in the field in front of his house.

He stares up at the stars, alone with his thoughts. He feels like he doesn’t know anything anymore.

~*~

Charlotte steps outside, the warm light from the house spilling into the front yard. She didn’t find Felix in the house anywhere, but it’s impossible to miss him once she opens the front door. Her heart stutters at the sight of him. He’s much bigger than she’s ever seen him before, and she is struck by the sudden realization that, even at his scariest, he was holding back.

She isn’t quite sure what to make of that.

She takes a tentative step forward, wincing as the screen door clatters shut behind her. His head turns at the sound, his eyes glinting in the darkness as his focus lands solely on her. He doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t need to. At this size, his gaze alone is enough to overwhelm her. She had thought she had sobered up a good amount, she is no longer certain of that. She sways on her feet and has to remind herself to breathe.

As short as the history between them may be, it’s complicated enough that she feels some trepidation as she makes her way to the edge of the porch. She isn’t afraid of him, but he’s massive, and she’s finding it difficult to think straight right now.

The autumn air is crisp, and while the warmth of summer stubbornly clings to the atmosphere, the breeze is cutting, especially considering her hair is still dripping from the shower. She looks down at the discarded hoodie, and bends down to pick it up, acutely aware that Felix’s gaze has remained locked on her. She meets his gaze, then looks down at the hoodie, it’s still warm. She looks back at him.

“Do you want to put it on?” his voice is a low whisper. It’s almost cautious, like he’s entirely conscious of the effect he has at this size. Even still, she swears his voice rumbles through the earth, trembling the ground beneath her feet. She nods, not finding her voice just yet. “Go ahead,” he permits with a shrug.

She slides it on, pulling her damp hair from the collar and wrapping her arms around herself. It smells nice, like cedar, and old books. It’s much cozier than she would like to admit. It isn’t ill-fitting either, maybe a touch oversized, but that isn’t a bad thing.

“How do your clothes work?” It’s the first thing she can think to say to him, though once she says it out loud it feels… silly. She can tell he thinks it’s an odd question too because of the face he makes, scrunching his nose and furrowing his brow.

“I don’t know, it’s science or something.”

“Science,” she echoes skeptically.

“I didn’t make the clothes; I just wear them. I’m not a… fuckin’… textile chemist, or whatever.”

“Clearly not,” a smile pulls at her lips, she takes a seat on the edge of the porch steps. “Are you doing alright?”

“It feels like I’m supposed to be the one asking you that,” he says quietly.

“Well. You’re bleeding, so.” She nods to his hand, the blood on his knuckles glistening in the low light.

“It’s not a big deal,” he turns his hand to shield his knuckles from view. Charlie frowns, but she doesn’t press him further on it.

“I didn’t know you could get that big,” she says instead.

“I don’t usually need to,” he responds simply.

“But you needed to now?” she questions.

He’s quiet for a moment, turning his face back up to the sky. She doesn’t think he’s going to answer her, but then his voice rumbles through her once more.

“No. It just feels nice.”

“It doesn’t hurt at all? Like, your bones shifting or your skin stretching, your heart feeling like it’s under more stress or….?” She looks at him curiously, standing and daring to inch a bit closer to him. He keeps his gaze fixed on the stars.

“It’s nice,” he repeats with the smallest shake of his head. “It’s like I’m,” he hesitates, searching for the words to describe an impossible sensation to someone who will never have the chance of experiencing it. “It’s like I’m stretching something that’s been sore. Or… like I’m getting out of the car for the first time after a long road trip. It makes me feel… like it’s easier to breathe. I don’t know if that makes any sense.”

“I think I get it.”

“I talked to Jeremey,” Felix says casually, as if that is entirely unrelated to his bleeding hand, or his size. Maybe it is, but she has her doubts.

“Oh shit.”

“Sorry if that was like, and invasion of privacy. He kept calling you and… I don’t know, I didn’t want him to freak out all night. In retrospect… I’m not sure I helped anything though.”

“Did he lose his mind?”

“He was… very Jeremey about the whole thing,” Felix admits, and Charlie sighs, long and slow.

“I’m sorry. He always- I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. I’m the one that answered, I knew what I was getting myself into,” he’s quiet for a moment. “Jay and I used to be pretty close before... everything went down. I wasn’t,” he hesitates, “I wasn’t really a good friend to him.”

“Have you tried apologizing?” She asks. He looks over to her, raising a brow.

“Have you ever tried talking to Jeremey?” It’s an obvious deflection. But it isn’t one that she challenges, she doesn’t feel like she needs to. The flat look on Felix’s face tells her that he already knows.

“Just saying,” she shrugs.

She’s gotten closer to him than he expected. She looks like she’s just trying to take him in, not able to see all of him at once, instead just focusing on his elbow. She presses a hand to his arm; he watches her curiously.

“Did you know that you grow, like, every time we touch?”

“You noticed that, huh?”

“You aren’t exactly subtle.”

“Fair,” he says. “People don’t usually touch me. You do. A lot.”

“Oh,” she jolts, pulling her hand away, “I didn’t even think about that- that I- I’m sorry. I’m probably like, a lot, aren’t I? I’ve gotten that before. I’m sorry.”

“You’re fine,” he says, regretting that he said anything to make her pull away in the first place. “I don’t mind getting used to it.” She goes still, looking at him, her hands fiddling with the sleeves of his hoodie. They share a moment there, and he internally burns, embarrassed that he said that too.

“Are you sure?” She says quietly.

“Yeah.”

Taking that as some kind of invitation, she turns back to his arm. She studies the bend of his elbow, then braces a hand against him, and swings a leg up. Climbing him. It’s not exactly graceful, she’s coherent but obviously still intoxicated. He considers reaching over and helping her, but he doesn’t trust himself to do anything more than hold his breath. He doesn’t want to risk making her fall or scaring her. She manages to scramble up and settle herself in the crook of his elbow on her own. He scrunches his nose at the light tickling sensation of her adjusting herself. Eventually, she stills finding a comfortable enough spot against him.

“Felix,” she says after a comfortable silence, “can we be done fighting.”

Fighting?

Here she is, in all of his clothes, curled up on his arm... And she thinks they were fighting? He just blinks down at her.

“We… aren’t fighting.”

She looks at him, her mouth pressed flat, her brow furrowed.

“Alright. Yeah, I get what you mean. We’re good, Charlie. Don’t worry about it.”

“Okay, good. Because I was worried about it.”

They lay together in the field, comfortably existing within one another’s space. They look at the stars, but Felix can’t help but peer down at the girl who took it upon herself to curl up against his bicep.

He can’t even pretend to understand her.

Why doesn’t she hate him? What does she see in him that makes her want to give him a chance. Maybe it’s just the alcohol. Maybe she’s just an especially terrible judge of character. Either way, it baffles him. It shakes him in a way that nothing else has before. Whatever ounce of good that she sees in him… he wants to find it too.

Eventually, he decides the time for introspective spiraling is over, and he breaks the silence between them.

“Alright. We need to go inside before you fall asleep on me, and I’m stuck out here all night.”

She doesn’t respond.

“Charlie?”

Nothing.

“Oh hell,” he sighs, and begins strategizing on how to get her inside without disturbing her too much.

As slowly, and as carefully as he can manage, he shrinks back down, taking care to keep her steady. Eventually, he reaches a comfortable height where he’s able to hold her snug against his chest, while still managing to fit into his house. He ignores the thrumming of his heart in his ears as her damp curls brush against his cheek, the faint smell of his soap clinging to her. He sets her down on the couch, and steps away.

“No,” she groans. “You were so cozy.”

“I’ll get you a blanket,” he says, crossing the room to grab one. She makes a noise in protest.

“Look, Charlie,” he says, draping a blanket over her. “If you want to snuggle me, or whatever, that’s going to need to be a sober decision, okay?”

“We literally already were,” she mumbles, though she’s already wrapping her arms around the pillow and settling herself into the couch.

“That’s—” He stammers, “No, that’s so different.”

At that size, he might as well have been part of the landscape.

But to her, he was much more than that. He surrounded her. Living, breathing, warmth enveloping her completely.

As for him, he can still feel the spot on his arm where her miniscule weight lay, curled into him. So small, yet at the same time, all he could focus on.

So different. He tells himself firmly, though he rubs the inside of his elbow as he heads off to his room.

He wonders how much of this she’ll remember tomorrow, and how much of it she’ll regret.

#g/t #g/t writing #my writing #charlie and felix #Charlie & Felix #giant/tiny #i have been very very excited about this chapter specifically

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