Charles and Richard Chapter 25

The nape of the neck he was holding stiffened. The muscles were so tense that his whole body had gone rigid, and Charles could feel it all through their pressed-together bodies. Strangely, his lips didn’t tremble. Charles stuck out his tongue and pushed into his lips. It was only after a few seconds that Richard understood the meaning and parted his lips. He didn’t even know how to tangle their tongues. Charles had gotten a faint sense of it back at the willow tree by the lake, but now he knew for certain.

Richard’s first kiss was with Charles. Even taking into account that they were eighteen, his reaction was absurdly innocent. He was like a shy middle schooler. But Charles didn’t mind at all. Richard’s clumsy, slow responses were more endearing to Charles than anyone he had ever kissed before. He never wanted to pull away from Richard’s lips. Kissing Richard was, truly, so, so good.

Everything—Richard’s hot breath, not properly controlled, hitting his face, and his fumbling movements as he didn’t know what to do with his arms—excited Charles to the point of goosebumps behind his ears. When Charles finally pulled his lips away, Richard let out a sigh and dropped his head. Since Charles still had his arms around Richard’s nape, Richard was half-buried against his shoulder. Richard asked in a drained voice, mumbling.

R: Why… why… are you so good at this?

At that remark, just as unromantic as before, Charles nearly burst out laughing instead. Charles glanced down at Richard’s blond head leaning on his shoulder and answered.

C: If you kissed like that, you couldn’t be friends with anyone.

R: What do you mean…

C: It’s terrible.

R: …Sorry.

C: Anyway, get off now.

Charles mumbled without releasing his arms from around Richard’s neck. Richard’s shoulders shook as if he was laughing, then he pulled away from Charles’s embrace. Looking at Charles’s face and smiling, Richard’s cheeks were flushed. Charles averted his gaze from him. He had just kissed him, and now suddenly felt shy. It seemed to be because Richard had blushed. Charles fumbled for something to say and barely managed to change the subject.

C: B-by the way, what’s with your refrigerator?

R: Oh.

Richard said dully.

R: I just started living alone… I don’t know how to cook anything. And I don’t really know how to stock a fridge either.

Richard scratched the back of his head and confessed. Then, as if thinking of something, he hastily opened the kitchen cupboard and dumped a pile of snacks all over the table. At least he had bought things to eat while they hung out today. Charles, who didn’t particularly like snacks, looked down at them with a stoic face, then soon shrugged. Whatever, he thought. This was Richard’s own way of using his head to come up with a menu, so Charles decided to go along with it.

Charles’s heart had been pounding fiercely ever since he kissed Richard, but he pretended not to notice that reaction. Thanks to that, he treated Richard more gently than usual. When Richard struggled to connect the game console to the television, Charles helped him, and he didn’t scold him for having bought nothing but snacks, not even a bottle of water, let alone drinks. Charles said it was fine to drink tap water, but Richard insisted and went out to the market to buy something to drink. During that time, Charles was left alone in Richard’s apartment.

He looked around the apartment freely without having to worry about being watched. One room was a bedroom, and the other had a wardrobe and a bookshelf. Charles thought it would be rude to peek into the bedroom, so he left the door closed. Instead, he looked at the bookshelf. His refrigerator was a mess, but the bookshelf was packed with leather-bound, well-worn complete collections of Anglo-American and European literature, along with books Charles didn’t recognize. Every single book looked like it had been read. Charles realized that all those books were what Richard studied.

Getting bored of looking at the books, he returned to the living room. The whole apartment was desolate. In the entryway hung a single family photo that seemed to have been taken in London, but there was no other decoration. The living room was the same. It was as barren as if he were about to leave at any moment, without a single potted plant. The only thing that made it look lived-in was Richard’s clumsy housekeeping. It was then that Charles became intensely curious. The real reason Richard had come back. He couldn’t believe he had come back just to be friends with him. That was too old a story. Too much time had passed for him to believe it was sincere.

Charles returned to the sofa and sat down with a sigh. He had recently made up his mind to fix the situation, and as one example, he had kissed Richard. It felt like a terrible mistake. Like he had ruined everything. Was it really right to be getting along with Richard like this now, as if nothing had happened? Wasn’t this just heading toward more unhappiness? Should he confess right now, when he came back, and ask him to go out? Suppressing the sudden wave of anxiety, Charles forced himself to swallow a sigh. He couldn’t undo what had already happened. He had no idea how to fix this situation.

Maybe if he just let things flow, all these strange events would become natural. If physical contact increased like this, maybe they would naturally develop into lovers. Call it avoidance if you wanted. Charles could kiss Richard now, and he didn’t want to lose even that opportunity by doing something stupid. He cut off the spiraling thoughts. He didn’t want to think deeply. He wanted to leave things as they were. Maybe everything would turn out well. Of course, everything could turn out badly too.

There were no more kisses that day. Charles and Richard played a few rounds of games, then had dinner at Burger King. Charles told Richard to come learn to cook on weekends. Not from Charles, but from his mother. Unexpectedly, Richard refused. He said he didn’t want to trouble them with that. Charles was dejected at missing the chance to see Richard every weekend. Instead of showing it to Richard, he just nodded and said goodbye.

Richard didn’t come to Charles’s house like before. And now, things he hadn’t been curious about as a child suddenly became curious. Who did Richard have dinner with, then? Richard had always been alone, both as a child and now. Charles felt uneasy thinking that he probably ate takeout every night. But since he didn’t know how to convince Richard, he just kept it to himself.

A few days later, as Charles was heading to the bike rack after class as usual, someone called out to him. Charles met her eyes and blinked. He had passed her in the halls now and then, but he hadn’t exchanged a single word with her since Richard left.

Jennifer Schultz. As she had grown, her pretty blond hair—which had once been as lovely as Richard’s—had turned brunette. Her pretty face remained the same. Charles and Jennifer were aware of each other, but they never talked about their common topic: Richard. On the surface, it seemed like Charles was forgetting Richard, and Jennifer was the same. So it was only after five years that they finally spoke. As Charles instinctively sensed the moment he saw Jennifer’s face, the topic was Richard.

Jennifer: Hey.

C: ….

Jennifer: Don’t make that face. I just have one thing I want to ask.

C: ….

Jennifer: Is that Richard?