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Nick is having a fucking horrible day. A horrible week, really. They know they’ve been lucky up until this point, having come out twice and having been met with almost nothing but love and acceptance, aside from the odd comment from a rugby lad, most of which, Nick acknowledges, were aimed at Charlie before Nick had even come out the first time around. All in all, Nick knows that tons of people, their boyfriend included, have had immensely worse coming out experiences than Nick has.
But none of the love and acceptance stops how much it hurts the first time Nick has to deal with hate being very clearly directed at them.
The first time, it’s a comment on Instagram, on what seems like a pretty innocuous post as far as Nick is concerned. It’s just a picture of a mug of tea, in Nick’s new “It’s a beautiful day to respect other people’s pronouns” mug (a coming out gift from Cherry), and copy of “Less,” which Nick is currently reading. Even the tags are fairly ambiguous, and Nick honestly isn’t even sure how the commenter found it. But find it they did. The notification pops up on Nick’s phone indicating there’s a comment on their post, and they click in expecting the usual comments from friends, maybe a comment from Isaac about the book choice; instead, it’s an entire paragraph from an account Nick doesn’t recognize going off about “how unnatural” it is for people to “have pronouns” and how God didn’t give people a gender for them to flout “His will.” It doesn’t even make any sense as a comment, but it’s still deeply upsetting to read.
Nick immediately deletes the comment and reports and blocks the account, but they can’t stop thinking about it. About the fact that some random person on the internet was so offended just by the mere concept of people like Nick existing that they felt the need to leave a hateful comment.
Nick tries to forget about it, and if it had just been the one incident maybe it would have been okay, but a few days later, Nick is out at the shops picking up some ingredients for dinner. They’re just turning into the baking aisle when an annoyed looking man comes barrelling through, his shoulder colliding with Nick’s as Nick turns the corner.
“Sorr—” Nick immediately starts to say, but they’re cut off as the man, clearly taking in the pins and patches that decorate Nick’s denim jacket, glares harshly.
“Jesus, you fucking queers,” the man spits out. Nick flinches. The man shoves past Nick, knocking them into the shelf, and growls lowly “can’t even stay out of the fucking way.”
Nick stands there for a moment, shelf digging into their back and heart thundering as they try to get their breathing under control. After a long moment, they push themselves back to standing fully and, in a haze, finish their shopping as quickly as possible.
The moment the door of the flat closes behind Nick, the safety of home encompassing them, they burst into shocked sobs.
***
Hours later, Nick is curled up on the couch. The TV is on, but they’re not really watching; they’re mostly just lying there, staring blankly and feeling the deep desire to just disappear.
Eventually, they pick up their phone, noting a couple of texts from Charlie—just the usual constant stream of messages the two of them keep up—and nothing else of note. Nick both desperately wants to talk to Charlie and can’t even begin to fathom a conversation about the mess of emotions crashing around inside them. Charlie will understand, Nick knows, but it also feels unfair to put that on Charlie, who spent far too long dealing with bullying of his own. The thought that Charlie suffered this kind of treatment constantly for so long and still manages to smile and be kind and thoughtful and loving, while Nick is having a breakdown over just a couple of comments makes Nick curl even tighter into a ball, as if they’re hoping that if they become small enough, they’ll just pop out of existence entirely.
***
Nick wakes up on the couch at an ungodly early hour, feeling groggy and dehydrated. They head to the sink and chug a glass of water and then shuffle into the bedroom to try to sleep some more, hoping to feel human again when they wake.
They lie in bed for a while until it becomes clear that, having fallen asleep on the couch in the early evening, they are now well and truly awake and won’t be going back to sleep any time soon. Nick sighs and heads back to the living room. They put on Two Weeks Notice—because who doesn’t love a Sandra Bullock moment—and pick up their phone. Another message had come through from Charlie while Nick slept:
Charlie (22:45)
Hey babe, haven’t heard from you all day - I hope you’ve been up to something fun! Love you. Sleep well <3 <3 <3
Nick’s stomach twists a bit at the message, feeling terrible for having left Charlie hanging all day and vowing to send him a message at a slightly more reasonable hour of the morning.
Nick flips over to Instagram, relieved not to see any new comment notifications. They scroll idly, liking a few posts from friends and smiling at the various comics and memes in their feed, occasionally sharing something to their story. They stop for a moment on a cartoon showing a cat flopped on the floor and covered in a blanket with text reading “I don’t have the energy to exist today.” Nick pauses for a moment, feeling a little too exposed by the image on the screen. Before they can second guess the decision too much, they share it to their story and then tap out of the app. They drop their hands to their sides and their head back onto the couch cushion and just sit there for a long while, feeling drained and lonelier than they have in a very long time.
Nick must doze off after a while, because they’re woken by their phone buzzing, where it still rests in their hand on the couch.
Charlie (8:45)
Morning <3
Nick blinks down at the message feeling like a truly terrible partner. They get up and wander into the kitchen to put the kettle on and then look back down at the phone, trying to figure out what to say to Charlie. Unable to really come up with the right answer Nick simply texts back:
Nick (8:49)
Morning <3
Charlie responds almost immediately.
Charlie (8:50)
How are you doing, love? What were you up to yesterday?
Nick doesn’t know how to even begin to respond in text, so instead they pick up the phone and immediately hit call.
“Hi beautiful,” Charlie greets, “how are you?”
“Char,” Nick manages to get out in a slightly strangled voice before they feel tears beginning to form and streak down their cheeks.
“Oh, Nick, sweetheart, what’s wrong?” Charlie asks immediately.
Nick tries to speak, but they can’t even manage to form words or get more than the occasional squeaky sob out. Charlie sits on the other end of the line whispering reassuring words until Nick’s sobbing calms enough for them to speak.
“Sorry,” Nick eventually gets out. “I just had a really bad week.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” Charlie asks gently.
“I think so,” Nick says, hiccupping a little over the lingering feeling of tears. They tell Charlie about the Instagram comment from earlier in the week and then, voice cracking, about the incident at the shop the day previous.
“And I know,” Nick says, “that so many people, including you, have had to deal with so much worse and for so much longer.” They wipe at their eyes, trying not to start crying again. “But it just hurts, y’know?”
“Nick,” Charlie says softly, “it’s not a competition of whose trauma is worse. You went through something horrible this week, and you’re allowed to be upset about it.” Nick sniffles and Charlie continues. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there with you.”
“S’not your fault,” Nick says, also wishing that Charlie was there.
“I know,” Charlie says, “but that doesn’t mean I don’t wish I could somehow have protected you.”
“I just don’t understand why the words of literal strangers hurt so much,” Nick admits.
Nick can hear Charlie sigh sadly before he speaks. “Because it reminds us that there are still people in this world who will hate us and wish horrible things for us without even knowing us. And because it hurts to have your identity weaponized against you.”
Nick takes that in for a moment. “I think that’s probably what hurt the most, I mean aside from literally being pushed into a shelf,” they say, “the way that guy said ‘queer.’ Like he took the word that feels most like me and attacked me with it.”
“I really wish I could hug you right now,” Charlie says after a moment.
“Me too,” Nick tells him. “But it helps to talk about it.”
“Yeah,” Charlie says, “I can’t say I recommend the alternative.” Nick knows all too well how long Charlie went not talking to anybody, but there’s levity in Charlie’s voice when he says it—the ability to joke about everything he’s been through hard won through years of therapy and constant work—and Nick appreciates his attempt to lighten the mood, even though the subject is still so heavy.
Nick chuckles wetly. “No, I imagine not.”
They sit there quietly for a moment, just listening to the sound of the other breathing through the phone.
“I’m really sorry you experienced that, Nick,” Charlie says eventually.
“I know,” Nick replies. “But I’ll get through it.”
“I know you will, love.” They’re quiet again for a moment before Charlie says, “I have to go, I’ve got to get to work. But text me if you need me, okay? And I’ll call you tonight if you’re still up for our video date.”
“Yes,” Nick says, “absolutely. I definitely need the distraction of my naked boyfriend, please.”
Nick hears the warm chuckle through the phone. “Tonight then.”
“Yeah,” Nick says. “Tonight.”
When they end the call, Nick still feels sad and hurt, but they also feel a little less like they want to disappear. And when Nick checks the Instagram notifications that have come through while they were on the phone with Charlie, they see DMs from multiple friends in response to the post Nick had shared, all checking in and giving Nick space to talk, if they want it. Nick smiles, spirits lifting even more.
Things aren’t perfect. Nick’s pretty sure they’re never going to be. But in less than half an hour, it feels like Nick’s entire mood has shifted, and the shitty events of the week are no longer overwhelming their ability to remember all the good things they have, and all the people who are in their corner.