Chapter Text
It is entirely possible that Charlie Hesketh has daddy issues. He’s not an idiot after all; he understands that it isn’t normal for children to have to steel themselves for every conversation with their father. He knows that it isn’t normal to have to suppress panic when faced with even the thought of being a disappointment. Unfortunately understanding the rather not normal quality of their relationship hasn’t done anything to extinguish his need for approval. It has however led to a foolproof method for managing the tightness of breath that comes with even hearing his name.
Step One: Breathe
He was seven the first time he realized he couldn’t breathe whenever his father frowned. It was nowhere near as dramatic as the panic attacks that started up in high school, the ones where his entire world begins to collapse around him. Instead it was just twinges, small bursts of panic where his chest would get noticeably tighter.
He heard his father comment to his mother that Charlie wasn't associating with the right sort. His mother scoffed. Children play with other children; they don't know to think of these things. But Charlie realizes that as much as she means to defend him she isn’t. Isn’t saying that his behavior is correct, just that he’s too little to realize he’s wrong yet. Charlie doesn’t like being told he’s too little to do anything, much less things that he’s going to have to do one day anyway.
He could be better. He wasn’t bad, really he wasn’t. He liked it when his dad was proud of him and he didn’t like it that he was making him upset by hanging out with the wrong people. He could be better. He would do anything to get the disappointment out of his father’s voice. He remembers the slight panic as his chest tightened and he realized his breathing was getting harder. He sat in the hall shallowly breathing until his nanny had found him ten minutes later, concern apparent on her face. She held him for a while, told him to just breathe with her, it would help. She was right, he stored that away right then and there, after talking to father he needed to breathe.
Breathing helped in the moment, but it didn’t change that fact that he didn't meet his father’s eye at dinner. Nor did it change the fact that the next day he refused to play with Jaime or Sammy or Jack at recess, no more playing house, no more fighting over who gets the dinosaur and who gets the Barbie. He told them as kindly and as firmly as he could that he needed to find the right sort.
Step Two: Hide
When breathing doesn't solve the problem—and it often doesn't when you're trying to relieve anything other than a tight chest—hiding at the very least keeps things private.
It wasn’t until fifteen and a C in upper level geometry that Charlie was forced to admit that he may have a problem. Not a panic disorder. Never anything with disorder in the name. But something that bore down on him until no amount of deep breathes made a difference anymore. Something that made his smile slide of his face the moment he stepped into a private room. Something that made him sob like a child until there was nothing left for him to do but bite his lip until it bled and press his face into knees.
But the thing was, people with disorders were weak. They couldn’t handle themselves. They couldn’t handle their emotions. Charlie wasn’t like that. He could mask about anything with a cocky grin—which wasn’t a lie. He was that much better than those around him and he knew it. It was all a matter of mastering it. Of making sure his private business stayed private. And he could do that, he did do that, and he had those moments—whatever they were—under control.
Step Two (Revised): Hide somewhere with a lock
Charlie’s single at Eton had afforded him privacy; but only when he remembered to lock the door behind him. Rufus very rarely knocked and it was only a matter of time before he found Charlie huddled in bed with a pillow pressed tightly against his face. Needless to say it was awkward for both of them. Rufus had excused himself almost immediately and they had never needed to discuss the fact that they weren’t going to talk about it. But Charlie is pretty sure he told Digby. They exchange glances whenever Charlie suddenly excuses himself from a room, but they never try to stop him.
Step Three: Physical Pain
There was a time when he was younger he nearly bit straight through his lip. His nanny had been a mess trying to slow the bleeding. She had fussed over him trying to figure out how it had happened, asking if he fell, or if he couldn’t feel his lip, was he numb maybe? Her worry was palpable as he just shrugged and avoided eye contact with every new question.
Charlie just couldn’t figure out how to explain it. How do you explain to someone that the world just got too fuzzy, that you needed something to clear it up? He couldn’t breathe like she had taught him if he couldn’t even feel himself not breathing. It was weird knowing you were gasping but in a far off sort of way that you couldn’t do anything about. He hadn’t bit his lip on purpose, but he had felt better once he did. He knew where he was when he was in pain. He didn’t say that to her. Charlie doubted he could have said that to her. Eventually she sent him off with only a resigned order to be more careful.
He made sure to find less obvious places after that. She would always fuss at the sight of blood but if he clawed at his wrists or thighs just to get a hold of things, she never needed to know.
Step Four: Compartmentalize
Whoever said that ‘you’ll feel better once who talk about your feelings’ hadn’t had any pride. Charlie had never really tried to articulate why his father terrified him as much as he did, but he doubted that telling someone about it would make any difference. It wouldn’t calm him down and it wouldn’t solve anything, it would just make sure that people knew. He didn’t need people to know what went on in his head. He certainly didn’t need them to know how damaged he was. He just needed to never think about it really.
He was very good at putting things out of his mind. A boy on the street catches his attention? Go fuck a girl. His exam performance didn’t match up to expectations? Stay awake studying until his body is begging for rest. He spends an hour sobbing on the floor? Examine the things that put him there and make sure they won’t be an issue in the future. Make sure the only thing he’s focusing on is being the best, everything else is unimportant.
Step Five: Clean Up
Once it’s all over and Charlie can breathe again there isn’t much else to do but clean himself up. He can never scrub off the shame he feels at being so weak, but he can make sure there aren’t any tear stains left under his eyes. He can make sure he looks like he’s ready for the outside world regardless of how he feels.