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“Charlotte?”
Henry circles around a tree, brushing his fingers across its cool, rough bark as he casts his gaze around at the vibrant forest. Shafts of sunlight filter through the leaves, warming his face and patches of luscious greenery across the forest floor. There’s a light breeze, and when it sweeps past, the vegetation shutters and sways, as if moved by its melodic breath.
It smells earthy, fresh, a contrast to Swellview’s artificial scent. While home smells like concrete and plastic, here smells like running water and blackberries. He inhales, gentle, sweet air filling his lungs.
He receives no response. He ducks under a low hanging branch, then steps into a sunlit clearing, a river gurgling through the center with shiny pebbles bordering either side, and the very blackberries he was smelling growing nearby. He approaches the prickly bush, gently plucking a berry from its stem, and rolling the fruit between his thumb and forefinger.
He catches movement out of the corner of his eye. He turns, scanning his gaze over the empty space, “Charlotte?”
There’s no reply, only the chirp of birds high in the trees. As he pops the berry in his mouth, he wonders where she might’ve gone, it wasn’t very long ago that he last saw her. He combs through his memory, Charlotte’s face forming in his mind’s eye.
“This is a canoe, not a ship,” he recalls her saying, her hands on her hips as she stared at the boat floating on the calm lake, kept in place by the hold Jasper had on it.
“What’s the difference?” Ray rolled his eyes, “they both float on water.”
“Oh!” Schwoz looked up from where he was blowing up his floaties on the shore, “I thought you were talking about ships! You know, like pairing two peoples together.”
“Oh yeah, like Bedward from Twilight,” Henry responded, pausing in untangling Ray’s fishing line to grin over at the shorter man.
“Bella and Edward!” Jasper exclaimed, “I love that ship.”
Ray scoffed, yanking the canoe out of Jasper’s grasp and nearly causing him to topple into the lake. “I was thinking more along the lines of Chenry.”
“What?” Charlotte’s cheeks darkened, her tone flustered.
“Yeah, what?” Henry echoed, his heart doing an odd flip in his chest.
”You heard me,” Ray shot him a wide smile as Schwoz cackled, “we all see the way you two gaze at each other.”
“Gaze?” Charlotte sputtered defensively, “we don’t gaze, there’s no gazing.”
“Yeah,” Henry agreed, though it almost felt wrong rolling off his tongue, “it’s just really good eye contact.”
“Pff, really good eye contact?” Ray mocked, shoving his Tackle box into the canoe, “stop lying to yourselves.”
“We’re not lying,” Henry protested, his fingers starting to fumble with the fishing line.
“C’mon, you guys, just admit you’re in love,” Jasper said in exasperation as he climbed back onto the shore, and Henry could feel heat crawl up his neck, a fluttery sensation filling his stomach.
“I don’t love him!” Charlotte cut in, her fists clenched. Before anyone could respond, she turned on her heel and took off into the woods.
“That’s gotta sting,” Ray said after a few moments, breaking through the awkward silence that settled over them.
Henry could only glare at him, dropping the fishing line before heading after Charlotte, but beneath the irritation, a hollow ache formed within him. Ray wasn’t wrong, it did sting, more than he thought it might. He knew she was talking about romantically, she still loved him as a friend, but that thought only seemed to make the ache worsen.
He shakes himself out of the memory, turning to pick another blackberry from off the bush. He winces when a bramble catches on the back of his hand, biting into his skin, and latching onto his sleeve. He goes to pry it off, but another pair of hands beats him to it, gently freeing him from the prickly vine.
He lifts his head, slowly tracking his gaze up to Charlotte’s soft, intelligent features. The sun illuminates her profile, turning her dark curls a golden caramel, and shimmering in the depths of her apologetic irises. Her grasp is gentle and warm as she pulls his hand away from the thorny bush, sending a tingly sensation through his fingers and up his forearm.
“Thanks,” he manages, his voice coming out quieter than he intended. He proffers the berry he acquired, “you, uh, wanna blackberry? They’re good.”
“Um, no. But thank you,” Charlotte tacks on quickly, letting go of his hand.
“Oh, okay,” he feels colder without her touch, but dismisses the feeling.
“What’re you doing out here, I thought you were helping Ray?” She asks.
“I,” Henry hesitates, “I wanted to see if you were okay.”
“I’m fine,” she lies through her teeth, he can tell by the way her voice pitches up an octave.
“Are you sure?” He follows up tentatively.
“No,” Charlotte smiles, though it looks more like a grimace. She sighs, gesturing towards the water’s edge, “you wanna sit?”
“Uh, sure,” Henry discards the berry, his appetite lost, then follows her to sit by the river.
He pulls his knees to his chest, loosely wrapping his arms around them. He watches as Charlotte attempts to find a comfortable position, speaking once she’s mostly settled, “so, did you … did you wanna tell me something?”
“Why would you think that?” She wrings her hands, her eyes cast down.
“I don’t know,” Henry shrugs a little awkwardly, “asking someone to sit is just a pretty serious request, y’know? Someone always has to tell me something when I’m sitting.”
“Would you prefer to stand?” She raises her eyebrows in faint amusement.
Some of the tension leaves his shoulders. He smiles, “the damage has already been done. Besides, I walked all this way to find you, I don’t wanna get up now.”
“You run around Swellview for hours in a day, and you’re telling me that not even a mile knocked you off your feet?” Charlotte asks, though it’s more of a statement.
“Swellview doesn’t have this many hills, okay?” Henry defends, “hills make things a lot more difficult.”
She rolls her eyes fondly, his heart swelling with affection at the familiar response. He squashes the feeling quickly, reminding himself of her words. “I don’t love him.”
“So…” he draws out, his expression sobering, “seriously, is there something you wanted to talk about?”
“Yeah,” Charlotte’s smile fades, “I wanted to apologize for what I said earlier.”
“Why?” Henry fiddles with a pebble, its surface shiny from being in the water, “your words were valid.”
“They were insensitive,” she contradicts, “I wasn’t thinking about how they’d affect you, or anyone else.”
“You were mad, I get that,” he tries suppressing the squirming within him, “if anything, Ray was being insensitive.”
“But he’s Ray,” Charlotte insists, “he’s always like that, I should’ve known better than to react like that.”
“It’s fine, Char,” Henry tries to reassure her.
“No, it’s not!” She bursts, “what I said isn’t even true.”
He freezes, his mind scattering in fifty different directions. “Which part?” He asks tentatively, his heart tumbling nervously in his chest.
Charlotte opens her mouth, but for several moments, no sound escapes her. “Uh,” her cheeks darken, “m-mainly the last thing.”
Henry has to take a breath in order to steady himself, forcing his mind not to get too carried away. “You mean,” he hesitates, “you mean the thing about not loving me?”
“Yeah,” she mumbles, shamefaced.
It’s silent as he processes her words, slowly untangling their meanings. He doesn’t dare to hope, not wanting to make a total fool of himself, besides, he still isn’t completely sure if she’s talking about romantically or platonically. He decides to bite the bullet and ask, shifting to face her fully.
“So, you … you do love me?” Henry chooses his words wisely, “like, as a friend, or…?”
Charlotte looks extremely uncomfortable, all tense and curled in on herself. He almost regrets asking. “Or…?” She echoes.
“L-like, uh,” he stammers, darting his gaze back down to the pebble in his hand, “you know, more than friends? Like, do you love me, or love love me? Or, that sounds stupid, like, I know you love me as a friend, I think, but are you thinking bigger? Please tell me to shut up…””
“Henry,” she touches his arm gently, “shut up.”
“Okay,” Henry squeaks.
Charlotte inhales, then moves her hand to wrap her fingers around his, trapping the pebble between their palms. “I love you as a friend,” she confirms, “but … I wouldn’t be opposed to something more.”
She looks at him, her intelligent eyes parsing his expression. He’s not sure what to think, the second his mind processed her words, it’s like his brain completely blanked. Shocked, he thinks, is a word to describe how he’s feeling, but it’s also so much more than that.
“Hmm?” Is all Henry can manage in his stupor.
“I wouldn’t be opposed to something more,” Charlotte repeats.
“Really?” He stares at her in a mixture of hope and surprise.
“Yeah,” she nods shyly, “do, uh, do you feel the same?”
It takes Henry a second to respond, excitement bubbling within his chest, “y-yeah, yeah, I do, I mean I feel the same.”
“You do?” Charlotte looks at him, wide eyed.
“I thought it was obvious,” he laughs, releasing some of the tension in his shoulders.
“No,” she says in exasperation, “you were denying Ray’s words just as much as I was.”
“What was I supposed to do?” Henry asks, just as exasperated, “admit that I’ve had a crush on my best friend since we were 16, and give the others more fuel to throw on the fire?”
“What?” Charlotte gapes, “since we were 16? Henry, that was nearly two years ago!”
“Yeah, I know,” he mutters, “it’s been a trying time.”
“You’ve been hiding it for that long?” She fires back.
“Yeah,” Henry blushes.
“How have you been hiding it for this long?” Charlotte demands incredulously.
“How have you been hiding it for this long?” He retorts, “sorry, but you’re a terrible liar.”
“Which makes you a terrible observer,” she cuts in, “which isn’t all that surprising, you’re an oblivious boy.”
“You didn’t notice either,” Henry points out, “so you’re just as oblivious.”
Charlotte glares at him. He backtracks, “or I’m just really good at lying because of, uh, superheroing.”
“Better,” she nods approvingly, “but not entirely correct.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asks defensively.
“It means you’re just as bad at lying as I am,” Charlotte pokes him in the chest, “I figured out you were Kid Danger barely even a month after Ray hired you.”
“Yeah, well…” Henry fumbles over his words, “that was, like, four years ago, I’m much better now.”
“Mmhmm,” she hums, unconvinced, but doesn’t press the matter.
“I’m serious,” he insists.
“I didn’t say anything,” Charlotte holds up a hand, a smile twitching at the corners of her lips.
“You didn’t have to,” Henry pouts, though can’t help but feel a little amused.
“Do I ever?” She asks rhetorically.
He considers arguing against her point, eventually submitting to the fact that he doesn’t have much of a chance. “Fair point,” he concedes.
They laugh, falling into a comfortable silence. He examines their clasped hands, wondering if this will finally be his reality. For two years he’s been living with this flame, trying to suppress it, but maybe he won’t have to anymore.
“So,” Henry says after a few moments, “where do we go from here?”
Charlotte looks at him thoughtfully, the sun’s light catching in her eyes, “where do you want to go?”
They lean closer to each other. He has to swallow back the anxious lump in his throat in order to speak, his breaths becoming a little uneven. ”Wherever you are,” he responds, cringing internally at how cliche it sounds.
She huffs in amusement, “that was really bad.”
“I know,” Henry’s cheeks redden.
“Then why’d you say it?” Charlotte teases.
“Because it’s true,” he admits, hoping she can’t feel the way he’s shaking.
Something in her expression shifts, a warmth softening her features. She takes his pebble, and tosses it into the stream in order to lace her fingers through his, their palms flush against each other. He lifts his head, their eyes locking as the air between them grows heavy with electricity.
Time slows, Henry’s heart doing the opposite, ratcheting up to a frantic thrum. Their surroundings disappear, leaving only him and Charlotte in its wake. He only has eyes for her, and he doesn’t think he’s ever been this absorbed in another person’s presence.
They shift closer, the distance between them shrinking as their breaths intermingle. Subconsciously, he reaches up to cup the side of her face, gently running his thumb along her cheekbone. His lips brush against hers, and…
Henry awakens with a start, streaks of navy blue bleeding across the vibrant greens of the forest until a canvas ceiling is all that remains. He inhales unsteadily, his sleeping bag twisted around his legs. He rolls over, and gets a closeup of Jasper’s face.
He yelps, startling away.
INTRO
“What’s wrong?” Jasper asks, now awake, and sitting up in his own sleeping bag.
“Shh,” Henry shushes him, glancing across the darkened tent at Ray and Schwoz’s sleeping forms.
Jasper raises his hands defensively, then lowers his voice, “okay, okay, sorry. But seriously, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Henry brushes him off, getting his breathing back under control, “there was a … noise, just startled me.”
“A noise?” Jasper frowns, “like, outside the tent? We should go check it out.”
“No,” Henry says quickly, then backtracks at the odd look the brunet sends him, “it’s probably nothing, besides, we should probably get some more sleep.”
“Are you sure? It’ll only take a second,” Jasper tries to persuade him, “we could check just in case…?”
“Seriously, dude, it’s fine,” Henry insists.
“C’mon, it’ll make you feel better,” Jasper unzips his sleeping bag, pulling Henry up with him.
“Is this really necessary? It was probably just a rabbit,” Henry protests even as his friend drags him out into the chilly night air. Instinctually, his gaze drifts past the campfire and towards Charlotte’s tent, but he looks away just as quickly.
“You know you’re sweating, right?” Jasper turns on him once they’re a distance away from the campsite, folding his arms across his chest.
“What? No I’m not,” Henry contradicts, though is overly aware of his damp palms and the prickly sensation along his spine.
“Hen,” Jasper deadpans, “I think I know sweat when I see it.”
Henry makes a face, though can’t deny the truth of that statement. For as long as he can remember, up until they were in their early teens, the brunet always had sweaty hands, and even had to take medicine for it. He doesn’t think it’s a problem anymore, but that experience, he assumes, would’ve given Jasper some knowledge on it … as gross as it sounds.
“Well, it was hot in there,” Henry shifts uncomfortably on his socked feet, “of course I’m sweating.”
“It’s, like, 50 degrees out here,” Jasper points out.
“Really? Whoo,” Henry tugs on the neckline of his t-shirt, “no wonder I’m so hot.”
“Is that why you’re shivering?” Jasper cocks an eyebrow.
Henry groans, carting his fingers through his hair, “can we not do this? I thought we were looking for noises? Or listening or whatever.”
“Henry,” Jasper sighs, clasping his shoulder, “there was no noise.”
“How would you know?” Henry gestures at his friend in exasperation, “you were sleeping.”
“Because you’ve been acting weird ever since we got here,” Jasper states, his face drawn in a serious expression.
Henry pauses, taken aback by the brunet’s uncharacteristic attitude. Jasper hardly ever confronts him, and if he does, it’s never this straight forward, that’s more Charlotte’s thing. His insides recoil, quickly casting her image to the back of his mind, and refusing to dwell on his dream, or how close her face was to his…
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he mutters, wrapping his arms around himself.
“I think you do,” Jasper counters, his tone softening, “c’mon, bro, talk to me. You’ve been avoiding Charlotte the whole time we’ve been here, did something happen?”
Henry averts his gaze. A few feet away, the lake reflects the stars, pinpricks of light dancing across its dark surface. His mind etches Ray and Jasper in the water with the canoe, Schwoz on the shore with his floaties, and Charlotte nearest to him with that exasperated look on her face.
“Nothing happened,” he erases the figures from his mind, his stomach tying into a knot.
It’s not entirely a lie, nothing’s happened between him and Charlotte while they’ve been here, but it’s not something recent that’s bothering him. Ever since the zoo she’s been plaguing his mind, following him during the day, and torturing him at night. Love confessions is all he ever dreams about anymore, and it’s agonizing, because he knows that can never be his reality, no matter how many times his dream self says otherwise.
Charlotte said it herself, she doesn’t see him that way. Heck, she refused to let him save her because she was scared that he’d kiss her. That hurt more than he’s willing to admit.
“Are you sure?” Jasper asks doubtfully.
“Yes,” Henry says, lacing his voice with as much conviction as he can muster, “it’s fine.”
Jasper still appears skeptical, but drops it, “okay…”
“Can we go back to the tent now?” Henry asks, hugging himself a little tighter at a passing breeze.
“What, are you cold?” Jasper nudges him playfully.
“No,” Henry huffs, indignant, “I want to sleep before Ray makes us go hiking tomorrow.”
“You mean today?”
“Whatever,” Henry waves him off, “same difference.”
“Well,” Jasper’s voice pitches up in disagreement.
“C’mon,” Henry grumbles, taking a turn in dragging the brunet back to the tent.
SCENE BREAK
“I’m just saying, this face should be on Mount Rushmore.”
Henry rolls his eyes from the back of the group, taking up the rear as they march through the woods. Ray, expectantly, has taken the lead, Schwoz and Jasper close behind with Charlotte a little off to the side. They’ve only been walking for thirty minutes, but Ray has already gotten into talking about sculptures of himself, one of his newest obsessions.
“Yeah!” Jasper agrees with Ray’s statement, gesturing with his walking stick, “I want my face up there, too.”
“Pff, like they’d put your face up there,” Ray scoffs, “Mount Rushmore’s for the greats, not bucket-loving teenagers.”
“Mount Rushmore’s for presidents,” Charlotte contradicts, but the boys ignore her.
“I don’t love buckets anymore,” Jasper protests, “that was just a faze, I’ve completely grown out of it.”
“Then what’s that?” Ray gestures to the bucket in the boy’s other hand.
“It’s to go to the bathroom in,” Jasper explains defensively, “it’s a life hack. Don’t have a bathroom nearby? Use a bucket or a jar.”
“And did you pull that one out of your collection?” Ray jibes.
“No,” Jasper denies, though it’s an obvious lie.
“Why don’t you just, like, use the woods?” Henry comments awkwardly, “is the bucket really necessary when you have, y’know, all … this?”
“Gross,” Jasper wrinkles his nose, “we’re not animals, who pees in the woods?”
“Uh,” Henry unintentionally glances at Charlotte, her vaguely disgusted look making his face heat.
“Normal dudes,” Ray answers the question, seemingly unbothered by the fact that there’s a woman in their presence.
“My sister,” Schwoz adds, causing all of them to grimace.
“Ew,” Henry says.
“Did not need to know that,” Charlotte agrees.
“C’mon, man, you can’t just say stuff like that,” Ray reprimands the scientist.
“Why not I can’t?” Schwoz demands, “it’s the truth.”
“Because this is America,” Ray explains unhelpfully.
“What if your sister doesn’t want you telling people about that?” Charlotte points out, “I mean, I wouldn’t want people talking about my bathroom habits behind my back … or at all.”
“Bah,” Schwoz waves off carelessly, “she doesn’t have feelings.”
“Everyone has feelings,” she retorts, “whether you look like a horse or not.”
“Yeah,” Jasper seconds.
As the conversation proceeds, Henry gets increasingly more uncomfortable. He’s not exactly sure why it’s bothering him so much. It’s just another of their odd conversations, one of many that Charlotte’s been a part of, but he suddenly wants to divert the conversation for her contentment.
“Y’know, I think my face would look great up there,” he says, interrupting whatever Ray was saying, something about American rights and freedom of speech.
“What?” The others ask collectively.
“Mount Rushmore,” he expounds, “I think my face would look good up there.”
That sends Ray into another rant about sculptures, and has Charlotte rolling her eyes, but at least they’re not talking about bathroom habits anymore. He fades back into the background, simply listening as the others talk and laugh. He feels sort of disconnected, like an outsider looking in, observing the world through a pane of glass.
It’s strange. Any other time, he’d be getting in on the conversation without any regard for how his words may affect someone, and would be walking right alongside Ray. He’s never felt so isolated within his own group of friends, it’s like he doesn’t belong.
He glances at Charlotte, then to the trio a couple feet to her left. He wonders if she’s feeling the same isolation, if she’s on the same side of the glass that he’s on. He shakes his head, returning his attention to the conversation.
“So, you’re saying we’ll find Schwoz’s pot of gold at the end of the river?” Jasper asks slowly. Henry’s a little thrown by the change in topic.
“Yes,” Ray snaps his fingers decisively, now stopped by a path leading down into an opening in the trees.
“No,” Schwoz protests.
Jasper gasps excitedly, “when we get there we can set a trap!”
“So we can have three wishes,” Ray agrees.
“Then we can get more gold!” Jasper exclaims.
“No!” Schwoz continues to protest, but he’s ignored.
“Wait, what are you guys talking about?” Henry cuts in, confused.
“We’re racing to the end of the river to get Schwoz’s pot of gold,” Jasper fills him in.
“Then setting a trap to beat three wishes out of him,” Ray adds.
“No!” Schwoz shouts.
Henry frowns, “what? The pot of gold is at the end of the rainbow.”
The three other men share an incredulous look. “Who told you that?” Schwoz scoffs.
“Your dad?” Ray smirks, high-fiving the scientist.
Henry folds his arms across his chest indignantly, “whatever, doesn’t matter. Why are you guys talking about this anyways?”
“Because there’s a river,” Jasper gestures down the path With his bucket.
Henry steps up next to his friend, looking in the direction he was indicating. Below, a stream gurgles through the center of a clearing, smooth pebbles bordering either side. A blackberry bush grows near the water, and he’s certain he can no longer breathe.
“Last one to the end’s a rotten tomato!” Ray exclaims.
“Wait,” Henry grabs him before he can take off, stifling the sudden panic he feels, “I thought we were hiking?”
“We were,” Jasper nods.
“But now we’re doing this,” Ray punches Henry playfully, “c’mon, let’s have some fum.”
“Yeah, c’mon, man, what’s your beefy’s?” Schwoz takes a turn in punching him.
“Ow,” Henry scowls at the shorter man.
“Isn’t it your gold they’re trying to get?” Charlotte points out from the background.
“My beefy’s is that we came out here to hike,” Henry says in exasperation, “so, if that’s what we came to do, that’s what we should do. There’s perfect trails awaiting us just over this hill.”
Jasper and Charlotte send him odd looks, Ray rolling his eyes. “Well, there’s a perfect pot of gold awaiting me at the end of this river, so…” the man bolts down the slope, Schwoz taking off after him.
“Wait!” Henry tries in vain to stop them, grasping uselessly at empty air.
“I’m running too!” Jasper follows after the duo, leaving his walking stick behind.
“No no no … ah, come on!” Henry pursues them, giving up partway into the clearing.
Agitated, he paces just along the edge of the shore, combing his fingers through his hair. Every sight, every smell has him returning to his dream. By the river, in front of the thorny bush, Charlotte invades his vision.
“Are you okay?”
He tenses, whirling around to face the source of the voice, “Charlotte! I thought you went with the others…?”
Confusion and concern cloud her sun softened face, “what’s up with you? You’re acting … weird.”
“Weird? How am I acting weird?” Subconsciously, Henry steps away from her.
“You’re quiet, and all spacey,” Charlotte settles her hands on her hips, “what’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” he groans, “why does everyone keep asking me that?”
“Because you’re not acting like yourself,” she reasserts, “c’mon, Hen, talk to me.”
“There’s nothing to talk about, I’m fine,” Henry insists, the words coming out a little harsher than he intended.
“I know when something’s bothering you,” Charlotte moves closer to him, her features hardening.
“Nothing’s bothering me,” he continues to deflect, taking yet another step away.
“For the love of,” she drags a hand down her face in frustration, “Henry, what did I just say? We’ve been friends for years, I know when something’s bothering you, and I know when you’re lying. The pacing? The frantically running your fingers through your hair? Something’s bothering you.”
Henry averts his gaze, his cheeks growing hot. As always, she’s right. He’s known her since Kindergarten, which was over a decade ago, of course she knows all of his nervous ticks, just as much as he knows hers.
He suddenly feels very translucent, like she can see right into his soul. He hasn’t told her anything, but the look in her eye is not unlike a hawk, parsing, wise. Despite this, he knows she has no clue what’s going on in his head.
The thought is reassuring, though he still squirms internally. “Yeah, so?” He mutters, nudging a pebble with the toe of his shoe.
“So, tell me what’s going on,” Charlotte says in exasperation.
“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Henry crosses his arms.
“Why not?” She asks impatiently.
“Because I said I don’t wanna talk about it,” he retorts, a mixture of frustration and desperation coiling in his chest, “geez, Charlotte, how much clearer do I have to be?”
Hurt flashes across her face, but he’s too wrapped up in his own emotions to give it much thought. He turns his back to her, intent on getting as far away from her as possible, but he’s stopped almost immediately. He walks right into the blackberry bush, the brambles latching onto his shirt and exposed flesh.
He curses under his breath, instinctually trying to pull free, but the thorns only dig further into his skin. Getting attacked by a bush hurts a lot more in reality than it did in his dream. He freezes, unsure of how to proceed with nearly every part of him caught by the prickly vines.
“Hold on, I’ll help you,” Charlotte sighs, gently taking his wrist.
Deja vu slams into Henry like a freight train, and he snatches his hand away with a yelp. Like the evil thing it is, the bush claws his skin, latching around his forearm. He regrets wearing a t-shirt, never mind the heat, he should’ve worn his flannel.
“Ow!” He cringes in pain, “that hurt so bad.”
“Are you okay?” Her concern resurfaces.
“Uh, yeah, I’m fine, I mean I’m good,” Henry corrects himself, steering away from any phrasing relating to the dream.
“Why did you scream?” Charlotte asks, still poised to help him.
“Uh, because … there was, um,” he searches frantically for an excuse, “a … a bee. Yeah, a bee. See? Bzz, ooh, there it goes. Ah, you missed it.”
“Did you just say bzz?” She raises an eyebrow incredulously.
“Hmm? No, it must’ve been the bee,” Henry says, “and you know how much I hate bees.”
“Okay…?” Charlotte draws out.
“Mmhmm, hate those guys,” he nods decisively, “they’re always bugging me. Heh, see what I did there?”
She stares at him blankly, “…what?”
“‘Cause he’s, y’know, a bug, so he’s bugging … yeah,” Henry clears his throat.
“Do you want me to help you?” Charlotte asks.
He pauses, “uh, nah, I’ve got it.”
He reaches up to peel a bramble off his shirt, only pulling multiple others with him. He winces, trying to maneuver his arm through the branches with little success. His skin burns, red, crisscrossing scratches appearing on his body.
“…Please help.”
she exhales, pinching the bridge of her nose, “alright, hold still.”
Charlotte moves to help him, but is distracted by the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps. They turn their heads, watching as Ray, Jasper, and Schwoz race towards them, a swarm of bees at their heels. The trio flail their arms, yelling things he can’t understand.
“Oh my gosh!” Henry’s eyes widen, his heart plummeting into his stomach. “Get me out, get me out, get me out, get me out!” He panics, his voice going up multiple octaves as he tugs frantically at the prickly vines.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Charlotte grasps his biceps, attempting to halt his movements, “you’re gonna hurt yourself!”
“Get me out!” He shrieks, “not the bees! Please, not the bees!”
“Okay, okay,” she makes quick work of untangling him, nimbly detaching the brambles from his arms and clothes.
Once free, Henry all but leaps away from the bush, latching his fingers around Charlotte’s, “c’mon!”
He only makes it a few steps before realizing he’s holding her hand, her palm warm against his. He stops abruptly, letting go as if he’d been burned. What is he thinking?
“What?” Charlotte asks.
“Uh, nothing,” he says, his words tumbling over each other, “just, uh, I’ll wait for the others, you go. Save yourself, I’ll be fine.”
“‘Kay?” She spares him one last odd look before taking off.
Henry watches as she sprints up the trail, disappearing over the hill in a matter of seconds. He forgot how fast she is. Ever since she started doing the 10K run, her stamina and speed have increased over the years.
The sight reassures him, knowing that if she were ever in trouble, her chances of getting away would be high. That’s why he encouraged her to continue doing the runs, and why after the Bysh incident, he convinced Ray to include her and Jasper into their training sessions. Unfortunately, this also means she can get away from him quicker.
He sighs in disappointment, looking longingly at his thoroughly scratched up hand. It still tingles with her warmth, and the memory of her presence. If only she felt the same way about him, it would make things a whole lot simpler.
A buzzing draws his attention back to the present, and he whirls around just as Ray plows into him, sending him crashing to the ground. He cries out in surprise, then curls into a ball as Schwoz tramples over him, yelling something about honey and his bear proof suit, Jasper running by a moment later. He luckily has the decency to avoid stepping on him.
“C’mon, Hen!” The brunet shouts. Henry doesn’t need to be told twice, scrambling after his friends.
COMMERCIAL BREAK
“It’s not my fault!” Ray exclaims from where he sits on the other side of the campfire, Jasper tending to the orange flames at his feet.
“It was too your fault!” Schwoz retorts, his arm extended to Charlotte who treats his bee stings.
“Hold still,” she swats the hand he’s using to point accusingly at Ray.
“Be gentle,” Schwoz pouts.
“It’s a little your fault,” Jasper agrees, albeit tentatively, ”you did baseball style whack a beehive.”
Ray chucks a pinecone at him, the boy ducking with a yelp, “how was I supposed to know we were gonna be attacked by bees?”
“Anyone with common sense would know that,” Charlotte comments irritably.
On the log across from Ray, Henry half listens to the conversation, bracing his elbow on one knee as he examines his arm. Messy is the only way he can think to describe it. Not only does he have a web of scratches, but red, angry welts also mar his skin, adding to the stinging pain lancing through the limb.
The other arm is just the same, though not as bad. He sighs, clearing his throat. His lungs feel tight, like a band is slowly curling around them, but it doesn’t bother him much, it’s just a reaction he has to bees that will eventually go away.
He glances up, feeling the eyes of someone on him. He meets Ray’s gaze, the man’s brows knitted in faint concern. Jasper notices, having been arguing with the older, and instinctually follows his line of vision, his own brows pulling together.
“What?” Henry asks, feeling self conscious under their stares.
“You okay, kid?” Ray asks, gaining the attention of Charlotte and Schwoz.
“Yeah? Why?” Henry frowns, scratching his forearm.
“Your skin’s all red,” Ray points out.
Henry rolls his eyes, “it’s called a sunburn.”
“I know what a sunburn looks like,” Ray retorts, “that doesn’t look like a sunburn.”
The man gestures at his arms, and Henry looks back down, rotating both wrists to compare either side. He sees what Ray’s talking about, the redness from his bee stings spreading out and inflaming the areas around the welts, two on the right and one on the left. He runs his fingers lightly over the discolored skin, heat radiating off the angry patches.
“Oh, that,” he shrugs, “it’s just from my bee stings.”
“Why does it look like that?” Jasper wonders, moving away from the fire to get a closer look.
“Looks like the rash I had on my…” Schwoz starts.
“Henry!” Charlotte stands abruptly, leaving the scientist’s side to hurry towards him.
“What?” Henry flinches, having to grip the bark of the log in order to remain upright.
She grabs his hands, forcing him to extend his arms into the dying light of the sun. “Henry,” she repeats in a quieter, more serious tone, “this is from the bee stings?”
“Uh, yeah?” He responds, “it’s not that big…”
“It is a big deal!” Charlotte snaps, “look at your arms! They’re all swollen.”
“It’s just a bee sting, Char,” Henry tries reassuring her.
She glares at him, and he can feel himself shrink under the stare. “Just a bee sting?” She demands, “just a bee sting? Henry, a normal bee sting doesn’t get this red and swollen.”
“Well, for me it does,” he argues.
“That’s not normal!” Charlotte exclaims, her grip tightening.
“She’s not wrong,” Jasper pipes in from Henry’s other side.
“Are you having any other reactions?” Schwoz asks, him and Ray now standing behind Charlotte.
Their proximity sets Henry off like a cornered rabbit, the already stifling walls around him closing in. He mentally berates himself, questioning the absurd disconnection between himself and his friends. His breaths grow shallow, his blood rushing in his ears.
“I-I don’t know,” he stammers, looking anywhere but at their faces.
“You need to talk to us,” Charlotte insists.
“We can’t help you if you don’t talk,” Ray seconds.
“Yeah, c’mon, Hen,” Jasper squeezes his knee supportively.
“Let us help you,” Schwoz says.
They crowd further around him, varying expressions of concern etched across their faces. His chest constricts, “stop.”
The four share quizzical looks. “What?” Ray asks.
“Stop,” Henry chokes, his hands starting to shake, “back up.”
“Why?” The three boys chorus.
Henry meets Charlotte’s gaze. In that short instance, she seems to understand. “Give him some room,” she lets go of him, urging the others back a few steps.
“What’s wrong?” Jasper asks.
She shushes him, and returns to Henry’s side, though doesn’t touch him. Now he really feels like a trapped animal. His ears burn, but focuses on breathing through the straw his lungs have become.
“Hen?” Charlotte prompts gently.
Henry swallows thickly, raking his fingers through his hair, then holding his head in his hands. “My throat,” he manages to force out.
“Is it tight?” She presses, her tone soothing.
He nods faintly, “yeah.”
Ray mutters a curse. Charlotte turns to him, “run into my tent and get my bag.”
“Got it,” the man does as told, not even questioning her.
“Jasper, Schwoz, get me the cooler and some rags,” she directs the other two.
“Aye,” Schwoz agrees.
“On it,” Jasper salutes her before they hurry off.
Charlotte returns her attention to Henry, hesitating before speaking, “can I touch you?”
“Um, yeah?” He says unsurely.
This doesn’t feel right. She shouldn’t have to ask for his permission, though in the same instance, her proximity only heightens his anxiety. Her presence should be comforting, it always used to be, but ever since his dream, no, ever since the zoo, things have been different.
Her lips thin doubtfully, but thankfully doesn’t question him, “I’m gonna move you to Jasper’s camping chair, okay?”
Henry nods, allowing her to take his arm and guide him around the fire. He doesn’t think he needs the help, but protesting takes too much energy, and if he’s being honest, he’s starting to feel a little lightheaded. Subconsciously, he holds onto her wrist for support, though only realises he’s doing so once he’s already sitting down.
Charlotte situates him into a leaned over position, his elbows on his knees and head in his hands. He’s not completely sure what she’s doing, but trusts that she has a reason for her adjustments. By the time she’s finished, Ray has returned with her bag.
“Thanks,” she takes it, rummaging around in one of the pockets before pulling out a bottle.
“What’s that?” Ray asks, crouching beside her so he’s at eye level with Henry.
“Benadryl,” Charlotte responds, twisting off the cap and pouring some of the syrupy liquid into it.
“What’s it for?” He presses, his gaze flicking worriedly to Henry every so often.
“It’s for preventing swelling and allergic reactions,” she answers, “in this case we need it for both.”
“But he doesn’t have any allergies,” Ray frowns, confused, “kid?”
Henry shares a look with Charlotte, exhaling shakily. “I think I do,” he mumbles.
“From the bees? But I’ve seen you get stung before,” Ray says, “it’s never been this bad, except for the time you got stung on the tongue, but even that wasn’t this bad.”
“He only got stung once that time,” Charlotte points out, “and even then, his tongue swelled up.”
“I thought it was just numb?” Ray asks.
“It swelled up a little, too,” Henry massages his temples.
“We got the stuff!” Jasper calls, dragging the cooler along from behind while Schwoz carries a couple rags.
“Bring it here,” Charlotte waves them over, then proffers the Benadryl to Henry, “take this.”
He takes the tiny cup from her, eyeing the reddish substance with apprehension. He’s no stranger to taking medicine, it’s kind of an occupational hazard, pain being inevitable after being shot, stabbed, or burned when out as Kid Danger. The amount of painkillers he takes in a month is probably unhealthy, but it keeps him functional at school, at least when he’s there.
Despite being accustomed to taking medicine, he still hesitates, doubt flooding his mind. Would it even work? What if his throat only continues to close up, and he won’t be able to swallow it?
The thought only tightens the band around his lungs, as if wanting to test the theory. His pulse quickens, and he feels a hand settle on his back. He lifts his head, familiar blue irises meeting his brown.
“Kid,” Ray murmurs, his voice low and comforting, “you gotta breathe.”
“I…”
“You need to breathe,” Ray reiterates, “you’re gonna be okay.”
For a moment, Henry imagines the blue and gold domino mask on the man’s face, only seeming to make the concern and seriousness more evident. That tone, it’s one he’s been on the end of at least a dozen times, though lately there hasn’t been much of a need for it. He’s a better fighter, and if he slips up, usually the damage isn’t too bad.
It’s the tone Ray uses if he’s hurt, or having an anxiety attack. It’s used a lot when they’re in uniform, though not always, sometimes it’s after a mission in the Man Van, or back at the Man Cave. But no matter where it is, he always sees or imagines him in the mask.
He thinks it’s his brain’s way of trying to ground him, keeping him rooted to the present. If Ray’s Captain Man, then he has to remain alert, because he’s Kid Danger, and he can’t let the man fight alone. It also reminds him that Ray’s a hero, his hero, and will always be there to pull him back onto his feet, no matter how mushy and cliche it sounds.
His heart rate slows, nodding slightly before swallowing the Benadryl, the action not nearly as hard as he intended it to be. It’s a little thick going down, but it doesn’t get stuck, and he doesn’t choke on it. Charlotte takes the cap from him, Ray patting him on the back.
“Good job, kid,” he smiles.
The corners of Henry’s lips twitch up in response, “thanks, Ray.”
He turns his attention back to the others, watching as Jasper and Schwoz dunk the rags in the ice water from the cooler, wring them out, then hand them to Charlotte. She takes the three they gave her, and shifts onto her knees in front of him, her brows furrowed in concentration. She stares at him, and he stares back, lost in the intensity of her eyes.
He’s seen this expression. No, he knows this expression, it’s just one of those looks that screams Charlotte. Just like her sass, and the girlish energy that emanates from her when she’s excited, the intense focus that takes over her features when they’re tracking down a villain, or when she’s doing homework is a look that you can often find her wearing.
But when it’s directed at him, he feels like he’s under a spotlight, gazing at the girl that plays his heartstrings. But instead of singing along to the melody, letting her know how he feels, the lyrics stay trapped in his chest. He attempts to say what he wants to say and let the words fall out, but he only ends up fleeing off the stage.
It’s like some depressing scene in a movie where the kid signs up for the talent show to impress a girl, then chickens out before the song has even started. Actually, his entire life is like that. A comedic movie or sitcom where everyone on the outside laughs, but the characters find no humor in the situation.
“Henry?”
He blinks, “hmm?”
Charlotte, like multiple other times today, seems like she wants to say something, but doesn’t. “Can I see your arms?” She asks instead.
“Yeah,”” Henry nods.
She drapes the cold rags over his bee stings. He recoils at the initial burn, not just from the welts, but from the scratches as well. “Ah,” he winces.
“Sorry,” she cringes apologetically.
“It’s fine,” Henry inhales a breath through his teeth.
“Why didn’t you tell us that you’re allergic to bees?” Jasper asks after a few moments of silence, perched on the now closed cooler.
Henry sighs, exhaustion settling over him, “I didn’t know.”
“You didn’t know?” Schwoz’s eyebrows come together in bemusement.
“How could you not know?” Jasper wonders.
“I mean, I knew, but I didn’t know,” Henry tries to articulate his thoughts, “like, I knew that I had weird reactions to bee stings, but I thought everybody did? And it’s never been this bad.”
“Yeah, no, not everybody,” Charlotte responds.
“Why is it so bad this time?” Ray asks.
Henry regards him helplessly, just as puzzled as he is. There was only swelling the last time, and a tightness in his chest, nothing to this extent. There wasn’t a hot rash threatening to crawl up his arms, or an invisible hand slowly crushing his windpipe.
“The symptoms get worse the more times you get stung,” Charlotte answers for him, unsurprisingly, “if it gets too bad, you need an EpiPen.”
All eyes fall on him, Charlotte’s the most intense. Their depths threaten to suck him in, the emotion within them daring him to protest the point that has yet to leave her lips. He averts his gaze, examining his scuffed up sneakers.
“This was pretty bad…” Schwoz draws out hesitantly.
“It’s still bad,” Ray corrects.
“I don’t need an EpiPen,” Henry protests.
“Henry,” Charlotte says patiently.
“Kid,” Ray says at the same time.
“No, I don’t need it,” Henry interrupts both of them, “I’m fine, it’s not that bad.”
“Not that bad?” Jasper repeats incredulously, “dude, you weren’t breathing.”
“Yeah I was,” Henry argues.
“Hardly,” Ray scoffs.
“I was,” Henry insists, “yeah, it was a little hard, but I’m fine.”
“I’m done believing that,” Charlotte folds her arms across her chest, now standing, “you’ve been saying that all day, but you’re clearly not fine. Whether it was hard or not, the next time you get stung is going to be much worse, and I’m not going to stand by and wait until you’re really not breathing. As soon as we get back to Swellview, we’re getting you an EpiPen, and you’re not fighting me on this.”
Words die in his mouth, the retort he was forming lodging in his throat. He can’t argue with her, anything he would say would only sound weak and childish. As always, she’s right.
The defeat must be obvious on his face, because her features soften, “you don’t always have to be strong, let us help you.”
Henry only bows his head. Ray moves closer to wrap an arm around his shoulders, guiding him against his chest. Jasper and Schwoz rest hands against his back, and Charlotte crouches in front of him to slip her fingers through his.
His throat tightens once more, for a different reason other than lack of oxygen or anxiety. All the emotions from the day bubble and spill over, the weight on his shoulders pressing down before lifting. Tears well in his eyes, and he blinks rapidly, willing them to go away.
“I’ve gotcha, kid,” Ray murmurs into his hair.
“Everything’s going to be okay,” Charlotte whispers, running her thumbs back and forth over his knuckles.
The barrier between Henry and his friends crumbles, the warmth of their presences seeping into his heart. With the barrier goes his defenses, and finally, he lets himself cry. His pride sinks into the far fetches of his mind, leaving his pain and relief on display, and his embarrassment nowhere to be seen.
Charlotte releases one of his hands to wipe away his tears, the pad of her thumb warm and gentle against his skin. He leans into her touch. Then and there he makes a decision, he’s going to tell her…
SCENE BREAK
Cast in shadow, Henry sits by the calm lake, relishing in the air that smoothly fills his lungs. Fresh, unrestrained. Oddly enough, he feels at peace, more relaxed than he’s felt all day.
Maybe it has something to do with his new found determination, or maybe he’s just in the eye of the storm, sitting in that brief moment of respite before all hell breaks loose. He has committed himself to telling Charlotte how he feels, but there’s still that tiny voice that keeps nagging at the back of his mind, finding ways to make him question his decision. He’s been ignoring it to the best of his abilities.
“You should be asleep.”
He flinches, unintentionally curling in on himself. “You’ve gotta stop doing that,” he grumbles.
Charlotte takes a seat beside him, her lips curling into a small smirk, “pointing out your poor life decisions?”
“Sneaking up on me,” he corrects, “sometimes I wonder if you’re trying to give me a heart attack.”
“I’m not trying at all,” she rolls her eyes, “you just haven’t been paying any attention.”
Henry opens his mouth, then sighs, “I guess…”
“But why is the question,” Charlotte turns her body to face him, her expression sobering, “I’m worried about you, Hen. This whole trip you’ve been … distant.”
“So, you’ve felt it, too?” He asks rhetorically, though it’s mostly to himself.
She regards him quizzically. He blows out a breath, tracing the uneven scabs etched across his forearms, “have you ever been so nervous about something that you, like, felt isolated from the people around you?”
“Yeah…?” Charlotte draws out, the wheels in her head visibly turning, “like you’re out of place? Disjointed?”
“Yeah,” Henry nods, his mouth suddenly feeling very dry.
There’s a pause, “you’ve been feeling this way?”
He wipes his sweaty palms off on his pajama pants, “uh, a little, but I don’t really feel that way right now. I mean, I’m still nervous, but I don’t feel so disconnected.”
“What changed?” Charlotte Wonders.
“I kind of just let my emotions go,” Henry gestures out awkwardly, “and, um…”
She tilts her head, silently encouraging him to continue. He laces his fingers together, pulls them apart, then wets his lips. This is a lot harder than he intended, why do dreams always have to make things seem so easy?
“You’re doing the tongue thing.”
Henry stops licking his bottom lip, “sorry.”
“I’m not going to laugh at you,” Charlotte says sincerely, “whatever’s on your mind, it’s clearly bothering you. What do I always say?”
“I told you so?” He guesses.
“No,” she glances up at the starry sky in exasperation, “don’t bottle up your emotions.”
Henry blinks, “oh.”
“So, it’s better to talk to someone about how you’re feeling instead of letting yourself crash and burn,” Charlotte continues, “you don’t want to get to a point where you’re overwhelmed and falling apart.”
“Like earlier?” He murmurs, averting his gaze.
“Like earlier,” she confirms, her tone soft, “it’s okay to have those moments, but there’s ways we can prevent them, too.”
“Mmm, I’d rather cry,” Henry jokes lightly.
Charlotte huffs, her smile returning, “that’s okay, too, but I’d rather you talk to me.”
“You’d make a great therapist,” he remarks dryly.
“Henry,” she complains, “you’re stalling.”
“Oh, now you’re not giving your patient time to think?” Henry leans away from her dramatically, “better start applying.”
“Oh my gosh!” Charlotte groans.
“Okay, okay, I’ll stop,” he chuckles.
“Thank you,” she folds her arms across her chest, “now, what else changed?”
Henry exhales, considering his response, “I, uh, told myself that I’d do something.”
Charlotte frowns, “do something?”
“More like tell someone something,” he admits nervously, his heart rate accelerating.
Her brows knit together, “tell them what?”
“Um, I wanted to, uh, tell them something that I … I’ve,” Henry’s voice cracks, and he shifts restlessly.
The confusion only grows more prominent on Charlotte’s face. Vaguely, he’s proud of himself for finally stumping her. The thought doesn’t linger, his anxiety wholly overwhelming.
“I wanted to tell them something that I’ve wanted to say for a long time,” he continues, scratching at the edge of one of his bee stings, “since we, um, since we were 16.”
“Who’s them?” She encases her fingers around his, halting his movements.
Henry stares down at their clasped hands, admiring the way her skin contrasts against his own, even in the darkness. Their shadows link on the grass before them, stretching towards the edge of the water. It reminds him of those silhouette paintings, the ones depicting two people hugging, or standing hand in hand in front of an orange sunset.
He turns his gaze back up to Charlotte’s, to the eyes he could drown in, “you.”
“Me? You wanted to tell me something?” She clarifies.
“Yes.”
“Since we were 16?” She asks incredulously.
Henry flushes, “uh, yeah…”
“That was nearly two years ago,” Charlotte chastises.
He returns to his dream, the sun illuminating her profile as they banter. He smiles a little, “I know.”
“Then what is it that you’ve been wanting to tell me for two years?” She inquires, exasperated.
Henry looks off to the side, watching the flames from their earlier fire slowly die out. He drops his unoccupied hand to his side, distractedly smoothing his palm over the blades of grass. He’s searching for something, though what it is, he’s not quite sure.
His fingers catch on something. It’s small, round in shape, and smooth to the touch. He picks it up, turning it over in his hand as he runs his thumb along the back, brushing away dirt.
It’s a pebble. Charlotte moves her hand to trap it between their palms, as if she knows exactly what he’s thinking. He almost laughs, wondering if he’s going insane.
He inhales a measured breath, calming the quivering sensation within his stomach. “I … Char, I wanted, since we … I’ve been thinking,” he shakes his head, “I don’t know how to say this.”
That concern from earlier creeps into her expression, her gaze shifting in consideration, “you don’t have to tell me … if you don’t want to.”
“No, I want to,” Henry says quickly, then grimaces, “I just don’t know how…”
“Why don’t you start from the beginning?” Charlotte suggests, “what led you to wanting to tell me this? That is if you even remember.”
He meets her pointed look with raw sincerity, “I could never forget.”
She blinks, taken aback. Boldened in a shy sort of way, he takes her other hand, further enlacing their shadows. Now sitting similarly to how they were in his dream, it feels almost surreal, like his subconscious is pulling memories from his unconscious mind and painting them before his eyes, but he knows he’s awake, he knows he’s living this moment in real time.
They’re not by a river, and the sun isn’t out, though she’s just as beautiful. Silver light dusts over her form, accentuating the shape of her face, and seeming to make her skin sparkle. It always amazes him how in any setting, she looks absolutely perfect, even without a stitch of makeup drawing out her more prominent features.
“I could never forget,” Henry repeats, “you’ve always been here, for as long as I can remember. We’ve been friends since we were five, and that’s practically forever.”
“Forever minus five,” Charlotte comments, but he has her full attention.
“Who remembers anything from before they were five?” He asks rhetorically.
“I do,” she smirks faintly.
“Yeah, but only in short glimpses,” Henry insists, “I remember some things from when I was, like, four, but not really enough for me to call it a memory. It’s more like a picture I found in the attic.”
Charlotte nods begrudgingly, “okay, I get that.”
“From what I remember, you’ve always been at my side,” he goes on, “you and Jasp, almost every memory I have is with the both of you. Playing in my backyard, meeting up to watch the newest episode of Walking Orange, the one time Jasper dressed up as Captain Man for Halloween and we had to be the bad guys.”
She huffs, “I remember that. Remember when he tried to convince Piper to be one, too?”
“Even at six she was terrifying,” Henry laughs.
“I’ll never forget little Piper, dressed in her pink fairy costume chasing him around the house with your dad’s bat,” Charlotte says in amusement.
“This is what I’m talking about,” he squeezes her hands emphatically, “I can think back on a time, and you’re always there. What I want to tell you, it’s not just one thing that brought me to it, it was over a decade of time spent together laughing, doing homework, or just sitting on the couch.”
There’s a shift in her expression, a sort of uncertain understanding, like she’s not sure whether or not she’s right. “Henry,” she says softly.
“Charlotte,” Henry returns, his gaze locked on hers, “ruining our friendship is the last thing I want to do, I don’t know what I would do if one day you disappeared, and never came back. I think I’d die. That’s why I haven’t told you this for two years, I didn’t want to lose you.”
Charlotte tosses his pebble into the lake, creating ripples in the otherwise undisturbed water. She rejoins their hands, staring back at him earnestly. “Hen, whatever happens, I’m always going to be here. We’ve gone through too much just for me to up and vanish. I’m not leaving you, I could never leave you. You’ve been in my life just as long as I’ve been in yours, and the thought of you disappearing is just as painful. Why do you think I spend hours on mission plans? Or why I scold you for being cocky?”
“I thought it just annoyed you,” he admits.
“It does,” she assures him, “but I also don’t want to see you hurt … or worse. I do the things I do so I can see you come back okay.”
Henry’s heart melts, the space behind his eyes burning. “Seriously?” He utters softly, “you do that for me?”
“To make sure you’re safe,” Charlotte confirms, “to make sure that when I wake up in the morning, I’ll know that you’re waiting for me at the Man Cave, or at my front door.”
This is the part where he thinks he should pour his heart out to her, tell her that he loves her and promise that he’ll be more careful. He should probably thank her for putting so much effort in for him, start crying and say something so mushy and out of pocket that it hurts. Somehow, none of that feels right.
His emotions are so tangled that expressing one would be nearly impossible, never mind the hundred others knotting in his chest. Even if he tried to formulate something to say, he doesn’t think he would be physically able to open his mouth. Once again he’s been rendered speechless.
Henry’s always been better with actions. He’s more of the type to give hugs when he’s excited, or offer high-fives and pats on the back to congratulate someone. He likes to think he can control himself when he’s angry, but he has been known for chucking things, or hitting villains maybe a little too hard when he’s pissed off.
Compared to Ray, especially when they’re on missions, he’s pretty sure he puts more thought into his actions. Nonetheless, out of everyone, Charlotte’s the one who thinks. She puts thought into her answers, and almost always knows what to say.
Just like anyone else, she has her moments where she doesn’t know what to say, but that’s what he loves about her. She makes mistakes, and doesn’t always have the answers, just like him. She’s not higher or lower than him, definitely smarter, and definitely more level headed, but they both have their flaws.
They’re both people, with responsibilities, dreams, and concerns. They’re also very different, like how Charlotte’s a born genius, and how he’s a kid who had the skill to become Captain Man’s sidekick. All of her perfect imperfections, all of their similarities and differences, that’s what he loves about her and their relationship.
Like the moon and the stars. Like fire and ice, he could name a thousand things that go together, and that would be him and Charlotte. Point being, they have similarities in their differences, and that’s what makes them a team, a perfect pair.
He does what she wouldn’t do, listens to his heart and not his mind. He leans forward, gently pressing his lips to hers, because this feels like the right thing to do. He closes his eyes, feeling her lean into the kiss without much hesitation.
He half expects to wake back up in the tent, squished between Ray and Jasper, but the hands squeezing his own assure him that this is real. He’s kissing Charlotte, and it’s like nothing he’s ever experienced before. It’s like dawn, that moment when the sun first appears over the horizon, casting the earth in a brilliant light that takes your breath away, though in the same instance, it’s familiar, like home.
Cheering erupts from behind them, and they startle away from each other, simultaneously turning their heads to glare at the three men. “I knew it!” Ray proclaims, “pay up, boys.”
“We weren’t betting,” Jasper protests.
“Hey, I knew it before you did,” Schwoz retorts, “I told you they’d kiss before the end of our trip.”
“Do you have papers to prove it?” Ray challenges, “did you patent that idea?”
Schwoz frowns, “well, no, but…”
“But nothing,” Ray interrupts, “I’m right, you’re wrong, so zip it.”
An argument ensues with Jasper trapped in the center, trying and failing to play the mediator. Henry shares a look with Charlotte, bewildred and amused all at once. He wonders if it would be more appropriate to laugh in delight or die of embarrassment.
He feels dazed, barely able to comprehend the conversation that’s not even ten feet away. There’s a warm fog clouding his mind, not unlike how it felt when the Toddler snuck into the Man Cave and released the sleeping gas, though this is far more pleasant. He wonders if this is what it feels like to be drunk.
“Um, should we…?” He nods towards their campsite.
“Let’s go.”
Hand in hand, they get to their feet, moving around the others to head in that direction. They stop in front of her tent, mostly hidden from view. He averts his gaze, shy smiles adorning both of their faces.
“So,” he starts, his hands folded behind his back.
“So,” she echoes, her arms crossed over her chest.
Henry meets her eyes, “thanks, for all those things you said.”
“You, too,” Charlotte returns.
“For what?” He wonders, “I didn’t even say anything.”
“You said everything,” she contradicts, “even without saying anything at all.”
Henry’s cheeks grow warm, the butterflies in his stomach sending a tingly sensation throughout his body, “I’m guessing you know what I was going to tell you?”
Charlotte’s features soften. She rises on her toes to kiss him, her hand resting on his arm, “I love you, too.”
She disappears into her tent, and he hovers there for a moment, a stupid smile plastered on his face. Eventually he gets the sense to move, intending on crawling back into his sleeping bag, but finds himself drifting towards the voices still bickering by the lake. As soon as he approaches, the three stop to grin at him.
“Hey hey,” Jasper throws an arm over his shoulders in a side hug.
“How you feeling, kid?” Ray teases, ruffling his hair.
“Feelin’ good?” Jasper asks.
“Guys,” Henry complains halfheartedly.
“You know you love it,” Schwoz beams.
“Okay, okay,” Henry laughs, ducking out of Jasper’s hold only for Ray to trap him in another embrace.
“Now we only have a dopey teen to deal with instead of a pouty one,” the man remarks.
Henry rolls his eyes, “I wasn’t pouty, okay?”
“Oh, please,” Jasper scoffs, “you’ve looked like a sad puppy all weekend.”
“Your ears were practically drooping,” Schwoz agrees.
“Oh, Charlotte, I love you so much, but I’m too wimpy to tell you,” Ray mocks playfully, pitching his voice up into a pointedly annoying whine.
The others laugh, Schwoz making kissing noises while Jasper juts out his bottom lip like a kicked puppy. “C’mon, guys, stop,” Henry blushes, “that’s not funny.”
“It’s a little funny,” Jasper says cheekily.
“It’s hilarious,” Ray corrects, “and you didn’t laugh at all.”
“That’s ‘cause it’s not funny,” Henry slips out of the man’s hold, trying to fight back a smile, “you guys are embarrassing.”
“Aw, don’t be that way,” Ray nudges him.
Jasper raises his eyebrows, “embarrassing?”
“The only thing that’s embarrassing is you and Charlotte having a smoochy fest in the dark,” Schwoz says pointedly, a smug grin on his face.
“Schwoz!” A fiery heat crawls up Henry’s neck, spreading rapidly to his ears.
The others keel over in laughter, Ray pointing at him, “look at his face!”
“Dude!” Henry glares at them, flustered, “shut up.”
“Henry and Charlotte sitting in a tree, K I S S I N G,” Ray and Jasper start singing, Schwoz jumping in a minute later, “first comes love, second comes marriage…”
“WOW, real mature, guys,” Henry crosses his arms, trying to cool off the burning in his face.
“I call being best man at their wedding!” Jasper proclaims suddenly.
“No way!” Ray argues.
“I call being the waiter!” Schwoz throws his hand up. No one protests.
“What do you mean no way?” Jasper demands.
“I get to be best man,” Ray says stubbornly.
“That’s not for you to decide,” Henry runs a hand over his face, both in exasperation and to partially hide his embarrassment.
“So you are getting married?” Schwoz asks mischievously.
“What?” Henry’s eyes widen.
“Yes!” The three celebrate, the arguing doubling after the scientist‘s deduction.
“Oh my gosh!” Henry groans, “you know what? I can’t with you guys. I’m going to bed.”
He heads for their shared tent, Ray and Jasper trying to call him back while Schwoz laughs. He ignores them, though can’t help but smile. This is the kind of normal he remembers, without a cloud of anxiety obscuring their interactions, or an invisible wall between them that he can’t seem to break through.
Actually, now that he thinks about it, it’s not ever going to be the old normal. With his confession out in the open, and Charlotte’s admission, there’s no way their friend group dynamic is going to be exactly the same. He’s okay with that, though, nothing’s ever supposed to stay the same.
As long as he has Charlotte at his side, everything will be okay. She’s what keeps him whole. Really, she’s the one who keeps the entire team together.
As he unzips the tent flap, and crawls inside, a thought comes to him. “I wonder if there can be two best mans…”