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Recently, Nick found himself staring directly into the lights of coming traffic. Spots danced across his vision and the car swerved a bit, but he continued. You’re supposed to look at the line on the road across from the driver's seat when oncoming traffic lights are too bright. It’s supposed to give you enough of a map or line to follow so you don’t run off road. Nick ignored this. In fact, Nick made a conscious effort to stare as hard as he could at the bright lights of everyone else. Everything was so bright. White lights, red lights, it was all so bright. Too bright. It felt good. Nick refused to shut his eyes, staring at everything and nothing. Driving, driving, whirring, buzzing, speeding, speeding…
A loud honk interrupted this particular spiral. Nick came to only to realize he had swerved into the right lane. He blinked hard and jerked the car back over. The sudden movement created even more tension, if that was even possible. His jaw was locked, he couldn’t scream or make a sound even if he wanted to. Waves of nausea rolled over him, his inner ear balance was completely off. Almost home. Almost home to Charlie. And Nellie. Almost home.
The rest of the ride, Nick opened his eyes as little as possible, afraid of getting entranced by the bright lights again. Why had he done that? He knew it could cause an accident. It might hurt someone, and Nick could never live with the knowledge his dumb action had hurt another human. Then it occurred to him that he might’ve gotten hurt. He opened his eyes wide again, staring directly into oncoming traffic.
Charlie was confused. And also pissed.
“You smoked without me? Rude! Also you know driving while high is a hazard to others.” Nick snorted. Charlie was literally vibrating. Nick’s mood lifted a bit at the sight of how radiant Charlie was, a bit of his adjacent warmth crept in. He was glad the redness of his eyes just looked like he was high. He didn’t want Charlie to know that he had actually spent the whole drive glaring at every bright light he passed in an effort to feel something.
Charlie continued:
“Also hello! You’re home early. Did you speed again? Speeding while high, my god, Nick! When did you become a risk taker?” By this time Nick had taken off his coat and was sitting on the closest chair to the door, a hard stool where they normally kept towels to wipe Nellie's feet after she had been outside in the snow. Nick had pushed the towel off, too exhausted to make it to the couch. Charlie kept talking.
“I had a brilliant breakthrough on my novel today! You know I’ve been struggling with putting too much of myself in my main character, following too close to my own storyline? Well, hear this!” Nick’s spirits rose with Charlie’s good mood. He still remembers the days where Charlie’s darkness stole every good feeling from him, and even though the darkness had faded with the right medications and therapy, he still treasured whenever Charlie was bright. Seeing him smile was enough to get him off his feet. He took Charlie’s hand and pulled him into a hug. They fell into each other. Charlie appreciated the hug for the hug, but Nick found greater happiness in that hug than he had felt in days. He struggled talking about his feelings, he didn’t know how Charlie could talk to someone about serious things. It seemed like it was more work than good, so he just occasionally talked to Charlie about things that were bothering him. Not recently though. Nick had been just going through the motions for a long while now. The more he kept it to himself, the more it grew, until today when he had almost reached his breaking point. He needed to talk to Charlie. But how?
Nick pulled away first, much to Charlie’s dismay, but he continued to hold his hand all the way to the kitchen where Charlie had prepared dinner. Bless him. For dinner they were having one of Charlie’s experimental soups. He had gotten into throwing a bunch of ingredients into a pot and letting it simmer till it “felt right” which often meant the vegetables were soggy or rock hard. Nick didn’t care. Charlie seemed excited and that’s all that mattered.
“On top of the breakthrough with writing, I think I have accidentally created the most wonderful soup ever!” Charlie said, “Our squash plant is on its final legs so I took the last ugly squash that we’ve been ignoring and chopped it up nice and small,” Charlie paused to laugh, “This time I didn’t slice my finger, thank you very much. But anyways. Yeah. So I boiled the squash and also every other green thing we had in the fridge, most of which were disgusting and slimy, but that’s besides the point.” Charlie held up a bowl eagerly. “Try some!”
Nick opened his mouth for Charlie to put a steaming spoon of the mysteriously brown? Purple? Soup. It was… Definitely soup. It did taste a bit like someone had blended a salad and poured chicken broth over it, but Charlie was proud so Nick loved it. Funny how food tastes better when you’re around someone you love. Nick remembered eating lunch today, but he couldn’t recall what or how it tasted. The same thing with breakfast. The only thing he had fully tasted today before this soup was the blood on his tongue when he bit it to keep from screaming during one of his long meetings.
“So? How is it?” Charlie was poking him with the spoon, gently pressing it on various parts of his face.
“It’s absolutely brilliant, my love.” Charlie’s hands started waving around excitedly and Nick had to duck to avoid being smacked by the spoon. They were both laughing. Nick could feel the light Charlie shone in his chest. Charlie always knew how to open the windows that Nick shut so tight.
While Charlie skittered around the kitchen, preparing another bowl of the soup salad, Nick sat down at the table. Their table only had two chairs, one for Charlie, one for Nick. That was all they needed. Sure, they had foldable chairs in the closet for when they had company, but for the most part only two chairs stood at their table. One high backed with ornate details that someone had obviously hand done. This one was Charlie’s. They had found it on the side of the road, about half a mile from their home. Finders keepers, Charlie said. The other, a shorter chair with padded armrests and a green cushion that Nick had stolen from the couch. This was Nick’s chair. Both had been chosen lovingly and with their main user in mind. Some nights, Nick and Charlie swapped seats. Nick complained that Charlie’s seat had no wiggle room, and Charlie insisted Nick’s chair was too short for him, even though he was only an inch or two shorter. They always switched back before the end of the meal.
After Charlie had successfully gotten another bowl of soup (he had spilled the first one in his rush), they sat down and started to eat. To this day, Charlie still takes three deep breaths before every meal and eats at half the pace Nick does. It’s okay though. Old habits die hard and Charlie hadn’t relapsed in three years. It was their little routine. They both cherished the little moments, like dinner rituals or silly mannerisms. Often they would tell the same jokes they had told a million times and still laugh like it was the first time they had heard it. The soup was growing on Nick. Maybe he liked the salad soup. From the look on Charlie’s face though, it appeared as more spoonfuls disappeared, the less he liked it. In order to combat some of the anxiety of eating, Charlie had begun making faces to distract himself. Nick would laugh at the faces and then Charlie would laugh and soon the next bite had been eaten. Nick giggled now, nearly choking on the salad soup. Charlie giggled as well and soon they were both cackling. Nick loved how much they laughed.
“Guess the soup wasn’t too great after all,” Charlie said once they had caught their breaths. “Maybe next time will be better.”
“The salad soup was excellent, my love, don’t ever disrespect your cooking like that,” Nick said.
“Salad soup?” Charlie's eyes got wide. “That’s what it tasted like! Blended salad!” They laughed again. More light flooded Nick’s chest.
Cleaning up the kitchen quickly became the couple’s favorite chore. They had lived together for 2 years now and relished the time spent cleaning. If their younger selves could see them, they would’ve been horrified. Charlie put on some music, he had been on a Paramore kick lately, so the familiar chords of Fake Happy started to play. Dramatically grabbing the soup ladle, Charlie screlted the words. He could not sing. But he was enjoying himself and that made the pterodactyl sounds more appealing. Nick couldn’t sing even on days where he didn’t hate himself, so he just swayed to the beat while washing the dishes. Charlie always managed to use every utensil in the house for his soups, which made no sense to Nick, why would he need a chicken tenderizer? Was he tenderizing the squash? Who knows. Nick didn’t care.
Charlie did more singing than cleaning, but that was okay. Even on bad days, Nick loved being able to take care of Charlie any way he could. It made the darkness that sometimes resided in his chest more bearable. Nick didn’t know where his darkness had come from. He knew that his first year with Charlie had affected him in ways he didn’t want to admit, but why were those days still haunting him, five years later? Charlie was so strong, and look at him now. He was doing so well. The relapse three years ago had been circumstantial and he had been able to get help before it escalated. Nick was in awe of Charlie. In awe of how he grabbed his darkness and shoved it into the light. How even on the days where the darkness crept in, he was able to see past that moment. Nick’s own darkness felt vampiric, as if any exposure to the sunlight would kill him. Nick knew he shouldn’t compare himself to Charlie, but it’s hard sometimes when you live with the strongest, brightest beam of light. Charlie still had bad days. No amount of medication or therapy would fix that. Even on the days where his light was subdued, even on the worst days which still revealed themselves at least once a month, he could always see a future. All this being said, Nick was so wrapped up in his clouds that he forgot how many years it took Charlie to get to where he is now. The therapy, the meal plans, the inpatient stays. All forgotten.
The dishes were clean and sitting on the rack to dry, chairs had been pushed in and the table wiped. It was only 8PM. They had a whole evening. Normally they’d watch a movie, but Nick was so tired. Charlie could tell how sleepy he was so he grabbed Nick’s hand and led him to their bedroom. Their bedroom. The safest place in the house for both Nick and Charlie. The safest place for bad weather, for long nights, and for light to come in. Their apartment was home, but their bedroom was a safe haven. Maybe it was cliche, but they had enough fairy lights hung up that they hardly ever used the side table lamp, and, god forbid, the overhead light. Nick had actually been the one to enforce that rule, which made Charlie well and truly swoon. The overhead light was overstimulating for the both of them, so they unscrewed the lightbulb and only used the ceiling fan. The fairy lights were enough.
The two entered the room in very different styles. Despite the growing starlight in Nick’s chest, he was still dragging his feet. He opted not to take a shower or to even get changed and instead sat down on the bed immediately. Charlie had pulled Nick in, entering the room gracefully and giggled a bit when Nick made a beeline for the bed. Charlie didn’t shower either, nor did he need to change because he was already wearing his typical writing day attire. Basically pajamas with rotating sweatshirts.
They both sat on the bed for a moment before Charlie laid back. Nick followed. They were both lying on the bed over the covers staring at the ceiling. Nick didn’t know what to do. He knew he needed to talk to someone, he knew he couldn’t just be attached to Charlie’s hip at all times. He had to figure out a way to stave out the darkness that wasn’t codependency or staring into headlights. Turning his head to look at Charlie, he let his face relax for the first time today. No forced smile or facial expressions. He was taking his mask off and he could see Charlie doing the same. Some days were easier to unmask than others. Normally Nick would come into the house unmasked and rambling about whatever. Then there were days like this one where the mask refused to slip, lest he show weakness. The days where he felt the weakness were always the days where he was afraid to show how weak he truly was.
Charlie spoke first. “I know you weren’t high, by the way.”
Nick was disgruntled. “Oh?”
“Yeah,” Charlie said, “You looked like you had had a shit day so I decided to joke a bit to make you feel better. Plus you didn’t smell like weed and Nick, I love you, but you suck at covering up the smell.”
Nick couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Guess I wasn’t as good at hiding my feelings as I thought I was.”
“Love, you can’t hide anything from me even if you tried,” Charlie said. This statement would make anyone else nervous. No secrets? It was human nature to keep secrets. But it calmed Nick. Their relationship was at a point very few relationships ever reached. Sure, they had spouts and times where their love was rougher than others, but they knew in the back of their heads that they were stuck forever. Nick never thought he would be this happy being stuck.
Charle kept speaking.
“Do you wanna talk about it?” The invitation was right there. Nick didn’t have to worry about being the one to bring it up. So he opened his window, just a crack. He talked about how he hated his job, hated it so much that oftentimes he would feel drunk and would be unable to recognize the faces of his coworkers. Charlie said it was called dissociation. Nick kept talking. About how he only felt real when he was around Charlie, about how much he hated being alone, about how some days the world felt so bleak. He realized what he had said might be offensive to Charlie, so he sputtered a bit, trying to explain that he knew Charlie was there. He knew he could always come home to him. But sometimes it felt like no one else existed except for Nick himself. He explained he wasn’t even lonely, just lifeless. How stale he felt. Like an old rag that was once a beautiful article of clothing, but had been turned into nothing more than a dishrag kept in the very back of a drawer. He even confessed about his tendency to stare into oncoming traffic, how he felt that if he stared long enough, maybe the bright lights would open his eyes up all the way and clear the fog that lived in his head. Charlie just listened, holding Nick’s hand and rubbing at the tender part between his thumb and pointer finger. His other hand was wrapped around Nick's head, stroking his hair. He didn’t say anything, even when Nick paused to breathe. When Nick was finished, they both breathed for a while. Then, Charlie spoke.
“I love you so much.” It wasn’t what Nick had expected, he had assumed Charlie would tell him everything was gonna be okay or some bullshit. He didn’t know why he expected that. In this state he always assumed the worst of people.
“I love you and I’m so sorry that you’re hurting. Would you like listening or problem solving? Relating or just comfort? How can I support you right now?” Nick didn’t know what he needed.
“I think… a mixture of relating and comfort,” he said. Charlie nodded and smiled.
“That’s what I figured. Lucky for you, I feel very similarly, like, 85% of the time.” Nick nodded, and Charlie continued lightly scratching his scalp. “Like I said earlier, I think you’re dissociating. I’ve spoken about it before, you know I struggle with it a lot.” Nick did know that, but he didn’t know that THAT was what this feeling was called. How did Charlie deal with it? “It really really sucks. And the worst part is there isn’t a ‘cure’ or medication that will make it go away. It’s just the brain's response to its surroundings. Like the opposite of adrenaline. It’s not fight or flight, more like freeze. Instead of acting out against the harmful stimuli, your brain is retreating in on itself.” Charlie had explained this to Nick before, but never in regards to Nick. It had always been Nick listening to Charlie trying to explain the way he felt. It was weird being on the opposite side of the line. Not that he hadn’t been here before, Nick did have bad days where he would talk to Charlie. The hiding and isolation were new for Nick. “And the staring into the headlights thing… You know that could be considered self harm, right?” Nick was taken aback.
“But that’s not…” He started, but Charlie interrupted.
“It is, Nick. Most people look away when the car lights are too bright. Most people wouldn’t put themselves in the danger of potentially causing harm to their eyes, or getting in a car crash.” Charlie had also explained to him in the past the multitude of things that were considered self harm, but this hadn’t been on the list. “It may seem silly, but that doesn’t make it any less destructive than actively harming yourself.” Nick opened his mouth to say something, but Charlie beat him to it. “I know you’ve been hurting, Nick. I’ve known for a while. But I also know that you aren’t someone I can just ask about things like this. I know I have to wait for you to be comfortable. I am willing to wait until you’re comfortable. I hope you know just how much it means to me that you’re sharing. I’m so proud of you.” Charlie leaned over and kissed Nick’s forehead gently, leaving his lips there for longer than was needed. Nick could feel his face finally getting red. Out of the both of them, Nick cried the most, but lately he hadn’t been able to cry at all, despite constantly feeling as if he could at any moment. The pressure behind his eyes was almost a relief and the first tear slipped down his face. Charlie moved a bit and kissed where the teardrop fell. The pressure in Nick’s head was being released. All the emotions and lack thereof were being soaked up by the quilt they had on their bed. His window had finally opened. Charlie moved again, this time with Nick so that he could hug him easier. He knew Nick liked being held during times like this. Charlie knew everything about Nick. He rocked slightly and whispered things into Nick’s hair while he cried.
“It’s okay, Nick. You’re okay. I’m okay. We’re okay. I love you so much. Thank you for sharing this with me.”