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Charlie was one year into recovery.
Geoff was right when he told him recovery wouldn’t be linear, the road wouldn’t be paved for him already, he would have to walk on it and clear it himself, tripping on every dent of the way. Fortunately, he could do that hand in hand with those who mattered, when he had a good support system he wouldn’t need to worry about stumbling on his journey and getting caught in a ditch. And up until then, things were going fine.
Good, even!
Charlie didn’t believe in any of that ‘‘light at the end of the tunnel’’ bullshit. He knows there is no end of the tunnel, there is no way of escaping the voice in his head, his life is in the tunnel. The only thing he can do is find a way to bring the light inside the tunnel, instead of relentlessly pushing that voice to the back of his head in a desperate attempt to ignore it, stop giving it importance. Make the voice in his head as small as it had made him feel.
And that had gone quite well. The road is still far from smooth but Charlie has never been this hopeful about the rest of his life before. How couldn’t he be? The way Tori smiled at him each time he finished a meal, an occurrence that had become quite regular and made him so proud of himself, gave him so much strength, he wanted to keep seeing his sister as serene. Tao had taken it upon himself to make the journey even a tad more lighthearted, lift a little weight off Charlie’s shoulder. He had Charlie write down a bunch of his fear foods, with an emphasis on things he used to love but now seemed way too far and difficult, and every week during their film nights, which now included the entire Paris Squad, everyone would bring their own revisited version of the ‘‘Fear Food of The Week’’, and that would be dinner for the day.
At first, Charlie had agreed reluctantly, not sure if he would be able to chew on brownies or finish a plate of cheesy nachos ever again as he wrote the list down on a notebook in purple ink. During his stay at the psychiatric hospital he had met an older girl, Megghy, who seemed to always be tubed but would never miss a chance to sit next to Charlie when he looked like he was going to burst into tears during meal time. She’d rub his back and suggest they ‘‘tackle the challenge together, to make it less scary’’ before offering a smile and picking up her own portion. Charlie will never forget the first time he could clear a serving of buttered noodles because of the way Megghy had squealed and hugged him so, so tight, making him feel pride instead of the self-loathing he had grown accustomed to. A few days before his dismissal, during art therapy, Megghy had tied a lilac ribbon around his wrist and held his hand as she explained it was a symbol of his strength and a reminder of everything great life is keeping in store for him. When he left, she hugged him and made him promise to keep her updated on his life and studies, and to become someone he would be proud of. Her anorexia was keeping her from going to college, so Charlie gets it, really. He still keeps the ribbon on his nightstand and his meal plan binder is decorated with lilac stickers and little motivational quotes written in the same colour, Nick’s courtesy.
Eventually, Charlie found out that being surrounded by his friends and having Nick hold and reassure him through the night makes the ordeal of eating a lot easier.
Still, despite having the best support system he could ask for, there were things Charlie just couldn’t voice out loud, moments in the depth of the night or early morning in which ugly thoughts took over and putting any of that into actual words to somebody who actually knew him, had an image of Charlie in their head just seemed like a terrible idea. He knew it wasn’t logical, he learnt the hard way how bad bottling up ugly emotions could be, so what he does instead is open a Tumblr blog.
Charlie knew it was probably an awful idea, a terrible one because there are so many weirdos on the internet and that site specifically was said to be packed with teenagers who glorified his illness and encouraged each other to starve themselves. But aside from frightening pro-ana communities and a concerning amount of unnecessary discourse, Tumblr offered anonymity, and Charlie needed it so bad. He needed to scream all his ugly feelings into the void, and this was the second best thing, apparently.
What Charlie certainly wasn’t expecting was for his blog to gain so many followers who seemed to be way too invested in the stories about his days and his journey of recovery. He didn’t necessarily care about his follower count, but receiving asks from people telling him his small happy rant about how proud of himself he was for finishing a whole bag of crisps, snacks being especially hard for him, was the last little push they needed to finally take the first step towards recovery made Charlie want to keep sharing his progress. He was happy.
Of course, he was bound to get some nasty anonymous asks every once in a while, questions about how somebody as lovely as his boyfriend, if he even existed, would want to stay with someone who can’t look at a bowl of white rice without bursting into tears, somebody else insisting eating disorders were ‘‘first world problems’’ and to just man up and eat. Charlie didn’t let them get to him, though.
On a particularly cold December evening, as he scrolls through his inbox while sitting on the kitchen counter, waiting for Nick to finish up dinner, one anonymous question catches his eye.
It reads ‘‘how do you know he won’t leave for someone who’s already healed?’’ and Charlie isn’t sure whether it was sent with malicious intent or it was just somebody in a similar situation needing some reassurance. He raises his eyes from the screen and watches as Nick skillfully flips a meat patty. With a smile, he locks his phone and hops off the counter.
Charlie grabs Nick’s shoulder with his fingers and squeezes gently one, two times to get his attention.
‘‘What is it?’’ Nick asks, eyes still focused on the patties.
‘‘I gained weight.’’ Charlie announced with a smile and Nick’s head whips towards him immediately.
The smile that took over Nick’s face could have honestly rivalled the sun.
‘‘Did you?!’’ He half-yells and breaks into a happy laugh as he leaves the fork he was using to cook dinner to completely turn around and wrap his arms around Charlie. ‘‘I’m so proud of you.’’
Suddenly, Charlie feels his boyfriend shift in their hug, and he is being picked up.
‘‘Must be because I’m such a great chef,’’ Nick jokes and Charlie audibly laughs as he feels red lips leave small pecks all over his neck. ‘‘This is all me.’’ and Charlie feels Nick squeeze his thighs before leaving a trail of kisses along his jaw and he for the life of him cannot bring himself to stop giggling.
‘‘Do you–ah, struggle more with lifting me now?’’ he can barely manage the phrase out because Nick is everywhere, kissing him everywhere and it tickles and fills his heart with pure joy.
‘‘Oh, so heavy, yes’’ his boyfriend couldn’t sound more sarcastic if he tried and Charlie laughs. ‘‘Oh my god no, no, I can’t carry you’’ and Charlie feels himself fall a little behind as Nick arches towards the floor pretending the boy is too heavy for him. ‘‘You’re so heavy now, I can’t do it.’’
Charlie doesn’t think he has ever cackled this hard before. ‘‘Don’t you dare drop me!’’ God, Nick is so ridiculous.
‘‘Luckily I’m also very strong.’’ and Charlie is being lifted again. ‘‘Very strong.’’ Nick affirms before throwing Charlie over his shoulder and carrying him back to the counter as the smaller boy screams, body shaken by giggles.
Nick sits Charlie back on the counter, ever so gentle, and immediately goes in for a kiss.
Charlie almost, almost, laces his legs around his boyfriend’s middle, ready for a well deserved make-out session, arms around Nick’s shoulders already, when the older suddenly breaks it off.
‘‘Oh my god, I burnt the patties’’ he almost yells before racing back to the pan where the meat was, admittedly, looking a little burnt.
Charlie seems to not be able to do anything but laugh, way too happy in contrast to his boyfriend who was now frantically looking around the kitchen to find a dinner alternative for the both of them.
Swiftly, he unlocks his phone and types a quick answer to the question he had been eyeing earlier- ‘‘I just know’’ before jumping off the counter and sliding the phone in his back pocket.
‘‘We could have rice?’’ Charlie suggests and Nick lights up for the second time that evening.