Coming Home [Completed]

Ch. 1: Godspeed, Glory

The date was Saturday, April 2nd, the time was 1:37 AM, and Charles Lucas Holloway was an absolute mess. He had been this way for a long time now, a long descent into isolation, and borderline alcoholism had led him to this point. Now, he was lying face-down on the air mattress in Julia's basement after having just come out in the most chicken-shit manner possible, a change to his Insta bio.

He wouldn't have even come out at all, had it not been forced upon him. The inciting incident for his coming out could in retrospect be described as a death rattle. Charlie had seen it happen with his grandfather a few years back. A comatose body making one final push, momentarily appearing to still have a chance at life. Salvation appears closest at the lowest moments. The past eight months have been a cascade of indignities and horrors for Charlie, but this was his nadir, so far at least.

Ever since he was too young to realize what was going on, Charlie always had someone to pine over and fixate on. For a long while, that role had been filled by his ex, but that could no longer be the case. He'd somewhat gotten himself over his former boyfriend after he found a new object for his affections, Ollie Marsden. They shared a few classes together and were hockey teammates.

The previous extent of their relationship had been occasional acquaintances, but Charlie had managed to convince himself that Ollie was flirting back whenever they interacted. Ollie's blond curls and soft features bore a passing resemblance to a certain someone, but Charlie reasoned that Ollie was much taller so that couldn't be the case. His love-struck, clouded judgment caused him to ruin everything.

Alcohol, his constant companion for nearly over a year now, was partly to blame for this mess he found himself in. He had chosen to ignore that Ollie Marsden had never given any indication that he was anything other than the straight-as-an-arrow, fratty jock he presented himself as. Intoxicants couldn't be fully to blame for one of the worst decisions of Charlie's young life.

At a Tate Morgan house party earlier that night, Charlie's self-delusions manifested into real-life action when he lunged forward to deliver probably the most-cringeworthy kiss ever to Ollie's unexpectant lips, in full view of most party attendees.

Practically the whole grade had been there to witness it and undoubtedly the rest of the school would know about it by Monday morning. There really was no point in trying to deny it, even if the thought of blaming it on an errant drunken prank gone wrong did cross his mind. Julia, the ever-practical one, had helpfully extracted him from the party before he could formulate any absurd denial. After all these months, Charlie had finally come to the conclusion that the charade wasn't worth it anymore.

He was too hesitant and his hands were trembling too much to do anything other than replace his Insta bio with a line from Gloria Carter's poem from the end of "Smile," love who you love because life isn't guaranteed, smile, with a single rainbow flag emoji. Even now, he couldn't bring himself to bolder action. With that accomplished, he allowed the darkness of a drunken sleep to wash over him.

The past few months had not been kind to Charlie. His parents separated shortly after his coming out to them and his father moved out, while Charlie remained with his mother. The break-up had led to even further isolation. Eva and Patrick still wouldn't speak to him and he mostly hung out with his football teammates. He could only spend so much time with Julia and Tate or he'd begin to feel like a third wheel.

Charlie had always been a heavy drinker during parties, but since junior year started, his proclivities got worse and were no longer confined to parties. He became quick-tempered and disinclined towards any work. His grades suffered, but a lack of focus also cost him on the field. He may have been a bigger part of the offense than the previous season as the team's leading scorer, but it was his fumble that cost them a playoff game and a chance at the state title.

Julia woke him up the next morning with a bottle of water and the promise of scrambled eggs with hot sauce, his favorite, waiting for him upstairs. He slowly made his way up and then gingerly ate his eggs, for fear of not keeping them down. As he ate, Julia rambled about how many inquisitive texts she'd received and how much she loved how he came out. Ever supportive, always kind.

Cautiously, Charlie interrupted her stream of consciousness, "hey, Jules, you know how you helped Tate dye his hair red last summer?"

"Sure do, such a shame the school made him shave it all off. He only had it like that for like two months, but it was so hot," she replied, with a lilt in her voice.

"Well, um, would you be able to do it again? But like, with my hair?" he tentatively asked, explaining "I've always wanted to go blonde and I've been thinking that with everything else that's happened I might as well now."

"Oh my god, yes, of course, I'll help!" Julia said, obviously excited by the prospect of dying my hair. "We can go to the beauty shop to get bleach and dye after we clean up here, can't leave a mess or my mom will freak."

The act of dying hair was simultaneously both more and not as complicated as Charlie had thought it would be. With Julia there to help, his role was simply to sit there on the edge of her shower as she mixed the blue powder and developer in a plastic bowl. He was surprised that she put on gloves before applying the bleach, which she did with a dye brush.

Julia warned that the solution might burn, but as the brush raked over his scalp, Charlie felt a cooling sensation. After completing her work, Julia instructed the younger boy to shower and make sure the dye was thoroughly rinsed out of his hair. She left the bathroom for him to do so and started playing "Nikes," the intro track to Blonde, from a speaker in her living room.

The process of fully removing the bleach from his head took a few songs to complete, but when Charlie turned the water off, exited the shower, and saw his reflection in the mirror, he felt reborn. Julia let out a sound that Charlie had never heard come out of her mouth before as he showed off his new look.

"Godspeed" came on by the time we had settled down after oscillating between giggling at each other and gassing each other up for several minutes. Wishing you godspeed, glory

There will be mountains you won't move. We finished the remaining two songs on the album and then just sat there for a long while.

Julia broke the silence, which had been almost reverential for Frank Ocean, after the end of "Futura Free," asking "so, have you given any thought about how you're going to handle Monday?"

Monday acted here as a euphemism for when Charlie would be forced to confront the blowback resulting from his decision to express his true self to the world. And, if he was being honest, Charlie would admit he hadn't thought that far ahead.

"Honestly, I'm beyond the point of caring," Charlie said firmly, even though it was only half-true if that. "If those guys give me shit, then I just won't play football. I'd like to see Coach try to win states this year without my help."

"You can be awfully full of yourself sometimes, Char."

"But you love me for it?"

"Love you despite it is more like it."

"I don't know what I'm going to do when you and Tate graduate," he admitted.

"What do you mean?"

"Eva and Patrick still won't talk to me. I'd imagine most of the guys won't want to come within ten feet of me after last night, so that kinda just leaves you and Tate."

"You'll figure something out. You're strong, Charlie, you can make it through one year, and then you'll be in college and that'll be so much better."

"You're wrong."

"What?"

"I'm not strong. I'm weak, I'm a coward. I've spent the past nine months on a basically nonstop bender because a boy broke my heart."

"Maybe you'll be like Samson. This hair will give you some newfound strength."

"I hope you're right. I'm scared, Jules. I might be able to handle Monday, but what comes after that?"

Julia reached forward, grabbing Charlie's hands, almost as if in prayer, "you may not believe me when I tell you this, but I think you're the bravest person I know, Charlie."

Charlie found himself at a loss for words in the wake of his friend's high praise, so she continued, "now, c'mon, we have to tone that hair so it doesn't look so metallic."