Work Text:
Charlie should have never had access to the internet during his early teenage years.
Being the major nerd he was (is), he very easily fell into online fandoms as soon as he understood how to navigate social media. His Tumblr blog was filled with reposts of his favorite shows’ scenes, cute boyband members, and memes of all kinds.
It’s embarrassing when he looks back at all of his old personal posts.
In a way, it was nice. Being on the website helped him come to clearer terms with his sexuality, offer an open space for him to inquire and question, and find support that was much more difficult to seek out in person. Sometimes, Charlie wonders if he would have ended up a repressed, overcompensating gay: trapped in the woes of internalized homophobia and deep-seated yearning for a clear identity. Really, Tumblr saved him a lot of trouble.
At the same time… it really, truly ended up causing more grief for him in the end.
Because the site was also famous for romanticizing the fuck out of mental illnesses. And as Charlie would later discover, he had a few of those.
Late night deep dives into the site led to lots of discoveries. Weird, cult-like followings of cute boys and girls, some of the best music Charlie has ever been able to find, some… explicit gifs and pictures…, and of course: the pro-anorexia, pro-self harm, pro-oversharing side of the internet.
Charlie wishes his parents had monitored his phone usage more.
It truly was an education fueled by morbid curiosity. Staring in disbelief at how people could starve themselves to skin and bone, tracking calories and weight in the tags, commenting on other people’s bodies. Staying up late to read long, long posts where people listed out every deep, dark, depressed thought that they had ever seemed to have had. Fingers twitching as he scrolled through images of cut skin, bubbling blood, white overlapping scars on wrists and thighs and stomachs…
What would have Charlie’s teenage years been like if he never knew those things existed? If he didn’t know that anorexia was an option, that hurting yourself seemed like such a ‘release’ for so many people, if he never heard the internal dialogues of very hurt and mentally ill people?
He wishes things went that way.
But instead, Year 9 happens.
Instead, Charlie is outed. He’s thrust into the spotlight in probably one of the worst environments to be the center of attention. Especially with his particular identity.
Suddenly, Charlie goes from being a quiet, shy, smart kid on the borders of the crowd, unseen and unbothered, to being the center of attention. Bad attention, with bad intentions.
“Look at this faggot!”
“Get your queer germs away from me.”
“Hey Charlie, suck any good dick lately?”
“Fucking gay trash, go kill yourself.”
“I bet you spy on us in the locker room- how nasty!”
“Ew; the freak is looking at me! Do you think he’s going to try and rape me?”
“Must suck to be such an ugly fag- no one will ever love him!”
These phrases haunt Charlie. There were even worse statements too. But fuck. Charlie isn’t even able to pretend that those words didn’t hurt.
It’s not everyone who is that harsh. There’s plenty of boys who just avoid eye contact, or make faces from afar. A decent amount of people who still look through him, still treat him like the quiet kid on the outskirts.
But it’s enough people being outwardly cruel and violently homophobic- so much aggressive bullying- that it really fucks him up. Enough to knock Charlie way off track and send him reeling. Something snaps in his brain, and the floodgates open.
Charlie spends his Year 9 days actively hiding and running from threats. He eats lunch in the art room, finding surprising solace and connection with Mr. Ajayi- who is open to telling Charlie that he is also gay. Even though it’s a comfort, Charlie’s stomach twists too much. And his art room lunch portions get smaller and smaller, until he only manages to nibble on a few bites before putting his lunchbox away. If Mr. Ajayi notices, he doesn’t say anything.
Charlie doesn’t mean for an eating disorder to happen. But really, most people don’t. He just… feels nauseous all the time. Always so worried and anxious about what he’ll face at school. And he can’t control the comments and the shoves and the stares. But he can control how much he eats. Just like what the blogs he reads say.
It’s so stupid, in hindsight, to think that he was ever in control.
As the bullying gets worse, so does Charlie’s mental state. He begs off school too often, claiming migraines and stomach aches, insomnia and dizziness. His parents watch him worriedly, his mom with slightly more frustration. Tori peeks through the crack of his doorway each morning, usually stoic expression cracked with worry.
It only does more to make him feel worse. The words he read online, in those long vent posts, always come to mind. Negative self-talk, insults to oneself: they become less of meaningless words someone else said and more of true facts about Charlie, according to Charlie’s brain. His rapidly deteriorating brain. Because now he’s worthless and stupid and selfish and disgusting and a disappointment and a waste of space and he should just give up and he takes up so much time and energy and air and money that people could use elsewhere and he’s so worthless and worthless and worthless and worthless and-
Charlie’s mind feels like a fast-forward reel of every negative statement he’s ever read. Nonstop. He starts to lose it. (His mind).
It’s a particularly bad day that causes his first close call. One where someone had punched him in the stomach in the bathroom, had spit on his face and laughed, saying “What’s it like to be an unloveable waste of space, Charlie Spring?” among other horrible comments.
When Charlie arrives home, first of his family, he sweeps into his room with an unfamiliar desperation in his bones. He grabs his pajamas and moves to his desk for the other item. An exact-o knife to be specific. Something Charlie used for art projects in the past.
He closes the bathroom door and locks it, feeling like he’s just locked all the air in his chest in as well. It takes a minute to calm down enough to breathe.
Charlie stares at himself in the mirror, seeing red-rimmed eyes and shaky hands and truly: a mess. He throws his clothes onto the counter, and digs through the sink cabinet.
Now, Charlie is smart. And while he wants to hurt himself at this moment, he also has the innate fear of discovery. Getting an infected cut and exposing his dirty secret to his parents seems like the worst idea ever. So he pulls out the rubbing alcohol, disinfects a new blade for the knife, and washes his hands throughly. He strips down to his boxers and sits on the edge of the tub, white noise roaring in his ears nearly louder than the overhead ventilation fan buzzing.
The knife sits along the skin of Charlie’s upper thigh. He’s scared. How hard does he push? What if he goes too far? What if he can’t stop the bleeding? What if he needs stitches and he has to tell his parents and then everyone will know and they’ll put him in a psych ward? What if-
He doesn’t realize how long he sits there, contemplating, until a banging on the door startles him. It makes him jump, moving in just the right way to make the tiniest nick on his leg, a small drop of blood pooling up as he stares.
“Charlie? Can you hurry up please? I want to shower before our dinner out with grandma tonight.” Tori calls through the door.
He didn’t realize that he’d been sitting there long enough for Tori to get home. Charlie replies, trying to mask his shaky voice as he grabs toilet paper to absorb the tiny drop of blood. No more blood fills the space since the cut is so thin and small.
“Okay, I’ll be out in just a minute!”
Charlie watches as Tori’s shadow disappears, then moves quickly to redress and put away the knife. His hands shake violently, and he has to pause to take some deep breaths. The toilet paper with the evidence gets thrown into the toilet and flushed. Charlie washes his hands, avoiding eye contact with the mirror, then the knife is hidden in his pocket. He speed walks to his room, locking the door.
So, his first attempt to self-harm is thwarted. He wishes that the rest of his attempts were as well, but that’s not how things work out. Things get worse before they get better, as most things do.
His first successful attempt happens not long after.
It’s another bad day. Bad comments, physical violence, roaring insults in his head. The whole way home, he thinks “If I just hurt myself, if I cut, then I’ll feel better. It’s what I deserve.”
The timing is awful. It’s a Friday, and once he gets home, he remembers that he’ll be home alone for the weekend. His parents were taking Tori to visit their aunt, and Charlie had decided to stay home. His mom had been upset, but his dad pacified her once Charlie explained that he had his midterm exams coming up and wanted to spend the weekend studying. Really, he just wanted to lay in bed and forget the world.
His parents planned to leave straight from work and pick up Tori from school, their bags already packed and in the car. So, Charlie was alone.
A sense of excitement and dread swirls in his stomach.
It feels like a death march as he moves to grab the knife again, setting up in the bathroom the same way as last time. Only this time, there’s less urgency and more time to steep in the dark thoughts his rotten brain spits out.
He makes the first cut. The skin tears and Charlie can’t tell if the sound is loud or if his brain imagines it. It stings. The blood bubbles up. His brain shouts:
More! It needs to be even! Eight is a good number. A safe number. Four rows of two. But it needs to be even on both legs! That’s two four rows of two which is sixteen total. Sixteen is okay but not that good. Or if we add another row of four to each leg that makes three rows of four and twelve on each leg which isn’t as nice as eight on each leg but it equals twenty four and twenty four is such a nice number, it’s eight times three or six times four and six and four are such a good pair and although three is iffy, eight is the best! So three rows of four on each leg, for a total of twelve on each leg and twenty four cuts total is perfect. Make even rows! Make the cuts the same length! It needs to be perfect!
It’s another internal monologue that should be a warning sign to Charlie. Later, he’ll realize it ties in with his OCD. The need for specific numbers, for evenness, breaking down and grouping numbers until it feels right.
But in that moment, he barely notices. It guides his hand into movements, setting the cuts into rows on his upper thighs. Three rows of four on each leg. He doesn’t cut super deep, but enough that the blood bubbles up on each cut, filling in the space that he drug the blade through. When he’s finished, his brain is quiet after focusing on the task so closely. He stares at the red for a long time. Eventually, tears bubble up and spill over too.
What the fuck had he done? What was wrong with him?
Everything feels fake after that. Snapshots of events. The process of cleaning the blade. Getting into the shower and gently rubbing off the tacky, partially dried blood. Hissing as his soap makes them sting. Patting the cuts dry with his towel. Checking that no blood got on the towel. Gently rubbing bacitracin over the split skin. Finding the biggest bandaids in the cabinet to cover them. Still having a few lines peeking out the edges. Getting into bed. Feeling the ache in his leg when he lays on his side and put pressure on it.
That was the worst weekend. He barely left his bed, barely ate a thing, mostly just drank water, used the bathroom, slept, and stared at the wall.
Eventually, the bullying becomes too much. The sensation of clothes rubbing on healing cuts, the ever present hunger, the isolation from everyone he cares about. It all comes to a head one Wednesday at lunchtime.
Charlie had barely slept, his mom had yelled at him before he left, and another boy had cornered him in the bathroom to spit insults and push him around. So when he walks into the art room, and Mr. Ajayi turns with his kind smile and asks “Hey Charlie, how are you today?”, Charlie just… breaks down.
Suddenly he’s sobbing, hands coming up to cover his face as he blubbers like a little kid. He hears Mr. Ajayi’s chair screech backwards, the door behind him close, and arms suddenly wrap around him. Charlie latches on to the teacher as heaving sobs wrack through his skinny body.
It takes a while for him to calm down. Once he’s able to pull away, Mr. Ajayi grabs a tissue box so that he can clean himself up, then guides Charlie by the shoulder to sit at one of the tables. Mr. Ajayi sits on the same side of the table, chairs turns to face one another.
“Charlie, what’s going on? I’ve noticed that you haven’t been doing okay for a while, but I didn’t want to push you into speaking before you were ready. But you clearly need help to solve this. So talk to me, and I’ll do everything in my power to help.”
The teacher’s gentle and kind voice makes his chest ache, and suddenly he’s spilling out everything about the bullying and the teasing and the homophobia he’s been dealing with for months.
“I’ve just been trying to deal with it but it’s all day all the time and I’m so sick of it, I’m so sick of hating myself and being afraid to come to school. And I don’t want to talk to anyone about it and burden them with my problems, but I don’t think I can do this on my own anymore. I just want to give up,” Charlie whispers, rubbing as his eyes as more tears spring up.
“I’m so sorry that you’ve been dealing with this Charlie. You don’t deserve any of that. You are such a kind and intelligent young man, and there is no excuse for everyone else’s behavior. You’re not alone anymore, Charlie, let me make that clear. I’m going to help, okay?”
And he does.
Mr. Ajayi speaks to the headmaster, and a mandatory lesson is taught to all classes about bullying, discrimination, hate-crimes, and homophobia. Charlie gets a sick satisfaction at watching the people who judged him twist their faces in shame and discomfort. The headmaster makes it clear that any signs of bullying will receive a harsh punishment.
Mr. Ajayi also enlists a group of sixth formers from his art classes to watch over Charlie. They work as a protection squad, escorting Charlie around and making sure that he is okay. The support is so welcomed.
He also calls Charlie’s parents in for a meeting. He asked if Charlie would rather speak to them on his own terms, but he had clammed up and denied that option. So, his parents come to the school, and Mr. Ajayi explains everything that had been going on.
His parents tear up and hug him when they learn about the bullying. They promise to support him more and repeat that he can always come to him when stuff is going wrong. It helps a bit, but later that night, Charlie overhears his parents in the kitchen. His mom is anxiously ranting to his dad, asking “How can we trust him to be honest with us when things got this bad and he didn’t say a thing?”
Charlie knows that it’s a valid concern. But the fact that he’s worrying his parents makes him feel even worse in the end. When he heads back to his room, some internal part of him decides that he can’t really tell his parents when things go wrong. He doesn’t want to stress them out more.
Tori comes into his room that night, and wordlessly gestures for him to move over in bed. Even though he’s nearly taller than her now, she makes him scooch down so she can hold him like she used to when they were younger. It’s comforting to hear her heartbeat and feel her long fingers in his hair.
“You can always talk to me. I know it can be hard. And you have a bad habit where you think that sharing your feelings with other people will burden them. But I love you and I want to know how you feel. I am happy to take a burden off your shoulders. You’re my baby brother and I want to help you, Charlie. So talk to me, okay? I’ll do whatever I can. Even if it just means listening. I love you. I hurt when you hurt. That’s what love is,” she whispers into the darkness.
Charlie hugs her closer, tears spilling out onto her sweatshirt as he nods. He pretends that he doesn’t notice her wiping her own tears with her sleeves, sniffling softly.
Tori is different than his parents. His parents aren’t bad, but he trusts Tori in a different way. Her love means a lot.
Then comes the reparations with his friendships.
Throughout this mess, he’d been pulling away from Tao too. But once the school has their mandatory bullying lecture, he’s quickly accosted by his friend.
“Charlie. Why didn’t you tell me things had got so bad?” Tao asks, brows furrowed with worry.
“I just… I didn’t know how. I didn’t tell anyone,” Charlie admits, facing the floor. He hears Tao sigh, before he’s wrapped in long limbs.
“I’m not going to make you feel bad for struggling to talk about it. But I am expecting you to talk to me from now on if things are going bad, okay? I’m not afraid to verbally assault some homophobes.”
And things get better. Charlie is now followed by sixth formers and his close friends and Mr. Ajayi checks in with him often. Tori sticks to him like glue, and listens to him, and acts as a buffer with their parents.
He gets closer to Issac and Elle. Elle transitions not long after the lecture about bullying, feeling more confident that the school had been wiling to address the problems. Charlie is proud to support her, and understands everyone else better in the process. If someone was bullying her, he’d want to know. It makes sense that the people in his life would feel the same way about him.
His mental health is still wobbly and wonky and some bad days still lead to self-harm. But he’s out of that pit. And he’s happy about it.
———
Of course, Charlie’s life turns upside down again within the next year. And it’s due to two different boys.
The first is Ben Hope. (Fuck Ben Hope.)
Ben makes Charlie feel happy. A! Boy! Likes! Him! He wants to kiss Charlie! He thinks Charlie is cute!
It’s nice to feel wanted.
Except… Ben doesn’t really make him feel wanted. It’s a thing of convenience. Ben only meets when he has time and when he feels like it. They don’t meet outside of hidden hallways and empty rooms. They don’t text outside of planning to meet up.
When Ben rejects the notion of them being ‘together’, of them being ‘boyfriends’, Charlie’s heart takes a step back. He’s reading the signs of disinterest… but Ben still wants to kiss? So is it just that Charlie is attractive to him but his personality is not worth dating?
Truly, Ben makes him feel like garbage. He makes Charlie doubt himself.
So: fuck Ben Hope. Especially after what happens with him in Year 10.
The other boy that changed Charlie’s life is the one and only Nick Nelson. Nick is a breath of fresh air after the past struggles Charlie has had.
Nick is kind. Nick is funny. Nick is so fucking sweet Charlie can’t handle it. He’s adorable and a little shit and so heartfelt and genuine and honest and a people pleaser and a total rugby lad and lame and cheesy and handsome and cute and he has the biggest heart and Charlie is obsessed.
It’s so easy for Charlie to fall for him. Even if he does think that Nick is straight for the longest time.
Becoming friends with Nick is easy and brings a lot of joy into his life. The process of reaching more with Nick is a lot more rocky.
That night at Harry’s birthday party is a whirlwind. Feeling unsure when he arrived, the joy at seeing Nick. The sinking feeling when Nick is goaded into talking to Tara, that familiar feeling of being unwanted rising up and forcing his feet to leave. Seeing Ben-fucking-Hope again and finally having the balls to push him away. Nick finding him again, saying such sweet things, grabbing Charlie by the hand. Running through the hallways of the venue, laughing breathlessly with the sunshine boy, sitting side by side on the floor.
Inquiring about Nick’s feelings. Feeling brave enough to needle for more answers. Finally taking that jump, the one he can tell Nick isn’t quite able to make, to ask if he wants to kiss.
Kissing Nick Nelson. The silence ringing in his ears. His pinky burning where their fingers are twisted around each other. The softness of Nick’s lips. Of his breathing. The nervous look away. Nick’s brave hand pulling them back together. Kissing over and over as pure dopamine rushes through his body. The feeling of Nick’s jaw under his thumb, his fingers pressed to Nick’s neck, his short hair at the back of his head rubbing against Charlie’s fingers. Nick’s solid hand on his shoulder.
It’s a dream. Charlie can’t believe how full his chest feels. He could have never anticipated this.
But…
But Nick leaves.
A voice calls for him. They jump apart. And with a mix of emotions on his face, Nick glances at him, then leaves.
And Charlie is alone once again.
It feels like a full rejection.
It feels like Ben all over again.
It takes everything in Charlie to calmly speak to his dad over the phone. But he breaks down as soon as he gets in the car.
His dad doesn’t force him to talk. Charlie isn’t sure what to say anyways.
Tori is asleep when he gets home. He’s not sure that he’d have the words for her either.
He opens his desk drawer. Heads to the bathroom. Carefully counts out rows and columns to get to a safe number and relapses.
The guilt eats at him. Charlie wonders how he could ever admit to someone that he does this to himself. He wonders what Nick would think about them. Then he reminds himself that Nick probably hates him, that Charlie definitely forced him into kissing, that he is no better than Ben. That Nick might not want to be friends now, that he made Nick so uncomfortable probably. Nick has always had trouble saying no to people. Why did Charlie force him!
He falls asleep at some point but doesn’t sleep for long. Charlie stumbles through his morning, until he goes to open the door and there’s Nick. Sweet, beautiful Nick. Soaking wet.
Once Nick is in his room, Charlie jumps on the chance to apologize. And he never could have anticipated that Nick would kiss him again. And again and again.
The truth finally clears it’s way. It wasn’t Charlie- it was Nick. Nick was confused. Nick is confused. But he wants to kiss Charlie. He just needs time.
And Charlie gets it. He’s been there. He had the help of online communities to guide him through his discovery of his orientation, but Nick doesn’t. He needs time. Charlie is more than happy to offer that.
He does ask to keep it a secret. Part of him understands, and the other part sinks as it reminds him of Ben. He hates that everything reminds him of fucking Ben. He hates that he’s so insecure that he feels the tiniest bit upset that Nick wants it to stay between them.
But most of his worries are washed out by Nick’s smile. Bright and happy and kind. It’s so hard to be in a bad mood when Nick Nelson is in his life. When Nick Nelson likes him. When Nick Nelson kisses him and smiles at him in that fond way and holds him so fully and throughly that Charlie wonders if he found the best hugger in all of human existence.
Everything is good for a while. Although Harry is harassing him more, Charlie is mostly able to ignore it. He’s used to it- even if Nick explains that he shouldn’t be in the first place.
Then it all comes crashing down again. Because nothing good lasts for Charlie Spring it seems.
It happens in two major parts.
First, Charlie ruins Nick’s relationships with his friends. Nick is forced to defend him because he is too weak, and he’s forced to abandon his friends in order to be with Charlie. Which doesn’t seem like a fair trade off since multiple good friends is not equivalent to Charlie’s meager existence. (It’s crazy the way his brain twists things to make him feel like trash).
So, Charlie comes to the conclusion that he needs to break up with Nick. That Nick would be better off without him. That Nick deserves better than being tied to some dumb, worthless, boring, mentally unstable loser. Because everything bad going on in Nick’s life right now is 100% Charlie’s fault.
Second, Tao learns that Nick and Charlie are going out. And Tao has been upset for a while that Charlie hasn’t been hanging out as much.
So right before Charlie makes his big case to Nick about why they should break up, Tao rejects him. Says that they really aren’t even friends anymore at this point. Charlie’s stomach ends up dropping somewhere in his knees.
Then he gives Nick the speech. Watches as his face screws up, his black eye less so as it probably still hurts. The black eye that was all Charlie’s fault. His stomach drops to his feet.
And it gets worse, as most things seem to do in Charlie’s life.
Tao is fighting Harry. Tao is FIGHTING Harry. What the fuck.
Nick jumps in and Charlie feels sick as he once again has to go against his friend, then Tao-
Tao is emotional, he’s angry, he’s sad, he’s more upset than Charlie has ever seen him. He vents his frustration through growing tears.
And he says those dreaded words that have been itching and clawing at Charlie’s brain nonstop lately. He confirms what Charlie has been feeling.
“This is all your fault.”
Charlie is knocked breathless. He dissociates almost immediately. On auto-pilot, he walks to the desolate bathroom on the edge of campus and sits atop the toilet seat. He stares at the stall door, silence ringing in his ears. His hands pull his shirt out from where it’s tucked into his pants, and he sticks his hands underneath it. And he claws at his skin.
Over and over, repeated and rhythmic, he drags his nails in long lines all over his torso. Over his stomach, his ribs, his sides, his chest. They burn bright and present and he gasps as he’s shot back into his body from the fugue state he had been in. When he looks down after a while, there are tons of bright red and raised lines all over him. There’s speckling of blood in some areas where he pushed harder.
Charlie tucks his shirt back in. He leaves the stall and washes his hands, making sure to clean beneath his nails. With a glance at his phone (no new messages) he sees that he’s missed the entirety of his maths class. The bell rings and he heads to his next class. Alone.
He gets home first. He tears up his thighs the same way he did his torso earlier. This time with his knife. It’s sick how consistent these self-harm sessions are.
Later that night, his emotions are still jumbled inside and he doesn’t know how to process them. His head is screaming too much, so he decides to practice his drumming. But his emotions seep into playing too much, because Tori interrupts him.
He spills his feelings in the way he only can with Tori.
“Didn't you hear about Harry Green's fight with Nick and Tao? Both my fault, by the way.”
“Yeah. I'm like 95% sure they were both Harry's fault, and I wasn't even there. What's going on?“
“Before I met Nick, I was sort of going out with this other guy. I liked him, but... he made me feel like I was ruining his life. Like he didn't want me to even exist. And now Nick's lost all his friends, and he's getting into fights because of me. And I just feel like maybe I do just ruin people's lives. And it would be better if I didn't exist.”
Charlie breaks down. It’s the first time he’s admitted to feeling that way. Both to himself and to someone else. That his feelings have extended past just “I suck and hate myself” to “I don’t want to exist, I don’t think I should be alive”. What a scary transition.
Tori grips him tight as he cries. Charlie feels the desperation in her body, holding onto him as if it will keep him alive and safe just by force.
“You're not ruining my life,” she asserts in the shakiest voice he’s ever heard from her.
It’s comforting to know that someone still loves him. And it will likely be the one thing that will stop him from ever going that far. It’s good that he has Tori as an anchor.
But he’s still drowning.
Charlie stops eating again. He hides away from everyone. He sees Mr. Ajayi pick up on it quickly. He quits rugby.
Tao ignores him. Issac is impartial and quiet as always. Elle has always been closer to Tao. Darcy and Tara, although friends, are closer to Elle and Nick. And Charlie is avoiding Nick, avoiding that final curtain close on their relationship. He knows it’s over, but he doesn’t want to hear Nick confirm it.
It’s awful. He goes crazy in the evenings and night time: crying, staring listlessly at the wall while he plays his saddest playlists. Becoming more familiar with his exact-o knife. Punching his thighs until they bruise the next day. Pinching and scratching and doing everything short of mutilating himself. Charlie feels like he’s going crazy. Like he’s going to explode.
But if things always go from good to bad, the opposite is true as well.
He stands up to Ben again. Tao and him make up. And Nick, rugby king, huge sweetheart Nick, abandons a game in the middle of playing just because he spots Charlie for the first time in a week. He pulls Charlie inside the building, away from everyone, and doesn’t give him a chance to speak.
Nick confesses his feelings fully, explaining the depths of his emotions, and confirming that he is willing to fight for their relationship and wants to be with Charlie.
He wants Charlie.
Everything feels like it’s falling back into place. And when he kisses Nick again, it feels like coming home. Like he’s settled back in his skin. Like the torment his mind has been putting him through has finally stopped. He’s not so foolish now as to think it’ll be gone forever. But now, in this moment, he’s okay. Charlie is truly happy.
Nick takes him to the beach. It’s one of the happiest days of Charlie’s life. He confirms that they’re boyfriends and admits that he wants to start coming out. And Charlie is so overjoyed.
——
A month goes by with things still going well. Nick and Charlie’s relationship continued to grow, while news of the Paris trip had everyone excited. Although school during exam season was exhausting, and Nick was finished before Charlie, he was still happy with how things were.
It’s at the meeting for the Paris trip where he learns some not-so-good information. Issac let’s it slip that Tao was likely the one who accidentally outed Charlie the previous year. It devastates Charlie.
A few days later, he goes around Nick’s house. He’s exhausted from school, so they decide to do a whole lot of nothing, but together. Nick flops onto his beanbag, and Charlie cuddles up next to him.
Nick quietly asks Charlie he’s upset with Tao, and it takes him a moment to find an answer.
At the end of the day, Tao didn’t do it on purpose. So he really couldn’t be too upset. But the bullying was still so rough that it does hit him in a sensitive spot.
He mentions this all to Nick, and then Nick asks him about the bullying.
“It was bad. Really bad. I felt like the news spread really fast and all the homophobes just came out of hiding. Whatever they did fueled everyone else, even if they usually wouldn’t have cared. They’d say the nastiest shit to me. Stuff I’d never want to repeat. Sometimes they even got physical with it. Pushing me and hitting me and… spitting on me. Cornering me. Calling me slurs. Just… awful. That was only a few people really but… there were a lot of judgmental stares. Lots of people who would stand away from me on purpose. It wasn’t everyone but it was enough. That’s why we had that lecture on bullying; I finally broke down to Mr. Ajayi about everything and he handled it.”
It feels good to explain the depth of everything. It’s like a weight off of his shoulders.
“I had no idea it was that bad, Char. God, I’m so sorry you dealt with that. I wish I could go back in time and find you so I could protect you from all of that,” Nick says, giving him those sad puppy dog eyes.
Charlie decides to be brave again. Nick makes him feel like he can do anything scary or hard.
“I… I started to believe what they were all saying. It made me really hate myself. My mental health has been really bad since. Back then… it got so bad and I got so low that…” Charlie swallows past the lump in his throat. Nick raises his hand to kiss the back of it gently.
“I used to cut myself. Sometimes.”
Charlie glances up for a moment and sees the pure devastation on Nick’s face. Suddenly, his arms are being gripped as Nick pulls him to sit across his lap and wrap him into an intense hug. It’s quiet for a bit as they breathe through their choked up throats.
They separate and lay their heads back against the chair, faces close together.
“Do you… do you still do that now?” Nick asks, concern etched through his expression.
“N-no!! I mean- hardly ever…” Charlie spits out, panic rushing through his body. Tears rush into his eyes as he thinks about the last few times it happened.
“I’m sorry…” he warbles.
“Hey, no apologizing!” Nick jokes with a forced laugh. Charlie’s lower lip wobbles.
“I hate that I do it. But when I get so low and feel so alone or I do something and I feel like the worst person or like something is my fault… I feel like I have to like… punish myself? I don’t get it but it just… happens…” Charlie explains as tears start falling. Nick reaches out to wipe them away. He leans forward to give him a soft and simple kiss.
“Does that mean that… it happened right before Sports Day? When everything went bad?”
Charlie can’t keep eye contact anymore. He squeezes his eyes shut, sobbing softly as he nods.
“C’mere.”
He pulls Charlie into another tight hug. The lack of rejection makes his heart ache in a good way. For so long, his self-harming had felt like his shameful secret. But here Nick was, holding him close.
“Can you promise me that you’ll tell me if you ever feel that bad again? Even if we’re fighting or anything bad? Please?”
“Yeah. I promise,” Charlie whispers.
——
Things continue to have ups and downs in Charlie’s life. Too many ups and downs for him to handle. Leading to the admittance of his eating disorder and eventual stay in an inpatient center. At the end of the day, his struggles with his mental health took over, and he needed serious intervention to help.
But things got better. There would always be good times and bad times. But the difference now was that Charlie had a support system. He had a family that was fully aware of his struggles: not just the surface level stuff. His friends were in the know as well and knew what to look out for and how to help him. And Nick: wonderful, loyal Nick. Nick was the biggest help, and his biggest support. Charlie knew that he could always talk about anything with Nick and that he would always be there for Charlie. And while that didn’t fix all his problems, it prevented them from escalating the way that they had when Charlie was alone.
Nick made sure that Charlie was never alone ever again.
And truly- it saved him.