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His mum's pointing it out wasn't what tripped Nick into noticing that there might be something off with Charlie, Charlie who barely ate his food; leaving his plate nearly entirely untouched.
Nick stood there and watched it, his boyfriend's plate, as though he could get some sorts of explanation out of it, just by staring at it alone.
(Charlie came for dinner at his place, but Charlie... wouldn't eat, or if he did, Nick knew it was barely enough.)
He first noticed something might be going on with Charlie during their trip to Paris, actually.
Charlie had said... he'd said he already ate when Nick bought him ice-cream, but Nick knew Charlie barely ate anything that morning. Though Nick kind of brushed if off as nothing, at that time. Maybe Charlie really just wasn't feeling hungry, and the last thing Nick wanted was to be a controlling boyfriend.
No, Charlie had enough people trying to control him; Ben... the thoughts still made Nick's blood boil, and he'd always have to keep reminding himself Charlie got out of that toxic relationship. It was over. Ben couldn't hurt him anymore.
Sometimes it felt like it wasn't over.
Because Charlie fainted next.
Nick remembered, how pale Charlie looked that day, prior to his passing out, how... shaky he was. He just told himself it was probably nothing, he was being too worried. Charlie was fine.
He wasn't quite fine when he fainted in Nick's arms, was he?
"Nick," Nick remembered Charlie calling his name. He remembered turning around and knowing immediately that something was wrong, because Charlie was as pale as a ghost, and his legs were trembling. Though he didn't remember rushing to Charlie to catch him before he hit the ground; Nick thought it was kind of an instinct, his reacting before his brain could catch up on what he was doing, since — before Nick knew it — he was already cradling Charlie on the floor.
But he did catch Charlie. He didn't let him fall.
Is it enough, Nick? You caught him, congratulations. But is everything really okay?
Nick had been thinking about that ever since. More like, the thoughts refused to leave his head. It never mattered if he was taking a shower, brushing his teeth, doing his homework or trying to stay focus in class, he always thought — worried — about Charlie.
Something was wrong, and Charlie wouldn't talk to him about it.
He probably never would, Nick was coming to realizing that now.
And if Charlie never talked to him about what was wrong, and Nick never asked for fear he might cross that boundary he swore he'd never cross...
If something happens, something that should have been avoided, but you choose to ignore the signs until it's too late...
Nick knew he'd never forgive himself if something happened to Charlie because he didn't do anything now.
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"Was the food not good?" Nick trailed off then, softly, as soft as he always was whenever he was with Charlie.
"What?" Charlie lifted his gaze up from his phone, looking at him from where he made himself comfortable on one of Nick's beanbags in Nick's room.
"You... barely ate," Nick kept his tone free of any accusation, any assumption.
"Oh," Charlie said, and Nick noticed the way he gulped. "I just... wasn't really hungry."
Right. Nick nodded then. It bothered him that this was precisely what he expected Charlie to say, and Charlie did say it.
"Charlie," Nick said again, when Charlie went back to looking at his phone.
"Yes?"
Nick opened his mouth when Charlie looked at him again. He wanted to ask if there was something wrong, clearly there was, if someone or something was bothering him, why wouldn't he just eat. But he couldn't directly ask any of these aloud, not without risking scaring Charlie away.
(But Nick knew now, something was wrong. It wasn't all in his head. He wasn't being overly protective. Tao also agreed with him when he mentioned his worries to him, and Tao might be the one who knew Charlie better than any of them.)
Somehow Nick ended up just gasping wordlessly, looking ridiculously awkward in front of Charlie, trying to... search for the right way to say this.
Nick ending up sighing, before he joined Charlie on the floor in front of him, looking him in the eyes.
"Okay, now you're being weird," Charlie said, rightfully so.
"I..." Nick looked the other way for a moment, before his eyes met Charlie again. "You know you can talk to me, right? about... anything. Anything at all. Whatever's on your mind, whatever's been bothering you. Or... if you feel like you can't talk to anyone else, I'm here."
"Nick?" Charlie placed his phone on his side.
"I..." Nick gulped, "I've noticed that you... that you haven't been... eating."
"I mean I wasn't hungry,"
"Charlie," Nick didn't mean to rudely cut Charlie off, but Charlie shut up almost immediately. Something about his reaction, too, screamed wrong in Nick's head. "I'm... I'm sorry," Nick said, voice softened. "But Char, come on, please... I know you know what I'm talking about." I googled it, eating disorders and their symptoms, Nick kept this part unsaid, though.
"I..." it was Charlie's turn to stutter now, his turn to avert his eyes.
Nick wasn't going to tell Charlie to look at him. He wasn't going to... do that, control Charlie and tell him what to do. He was... here to support him, and he so desperately hoped that Charlie knew this.
"I know what you're talking about," Charlie said, after a pause, though he still wouldn't look Nick in the eyes.
Nick moved a little then, so he was sitting cross legged in front of Charlie, signaling him he would listen.
"I know that I'm... a mess, that I've messed things up," Charlie added, with tears coating his eyes.
Nick mouthed a breathless what? and then, "No, no, Char, no. That is not... that is wrong. You're not... you're not messed up." Is this really how you see yourself?
Charlie chuckled bitterly. "It's okay. Everyone kind of knows that I'm... a mess."
"Well, they're wrong then," Nick said, with so much certainty in his voice.
Charlie looked at him again. "You don't think I'm... a fragile mess?"
"No, I don't. Because I know you're not. I'm just..." Nick paused, feeling like he might choke on that lump that'd apparently foamed in his throat at some point since he joined Charlie in his room and started bringing this subject up. "I'm... quite worried, Charlie."
"You're worried about me."
"That doesn't mean you're a mess though," Nick reached for Charlie's hand, holding it gently. "I know... things haven't been easy for you. All these... bullying. It's completely okay if you're not okay. I just want you to know that I'm here, and you can talk to me."
"I don't... I don't know, Nick." A tear rolled down Charlie's face. "I don't want to be a burden," he added, after a sob.
"You're not a burden, Char." Nick wiped that tear off his face with his thumb, using his free hand. "We said we'd always talk to each other if something was bothering us. I'm your boyfriend. You can always, always talk to me."
"I..." Charlie breathed through his mouth, blinking several times to get rid of his tears. "Sometimes I keep hearing these voices," he went on then, and Nick listened, "they're always in my head, telling me — no, repeating to me what people said about me, in my face. They're... mean, terrible things. And I know, I know I shouldn't let them get to me, because at the end of the day, they're just noises. But sometimes, when you start hearing them again and again and again, you start to actually believe them. At least I can't be that miserable if I'm skinny, right?"
"Charlie, no." Nick was crying too. He didn't know when he started crying, he rarely ever cried, but he was crying now. "You — no, that's... that's not true. You —" You can't think like that about yourself. That is wrong. It's not true. But Nick thought he was at a loss for words. There were many things he wanted to say, a lot of things running through his head all it once, it was almost making him dizzy, but he didn't know what he was supposed to say. Only that Charlie's belief was wrong. Those bullies who made him think this way were wrong.
"Before I met you, it used to get so bad that I..." Charlie swallowed hard. He was averting his eyes again. "That I would start... distracting myself."
"You would start... distracting yourself," Nick looked at him. He wasn't exactly clueless about where this was heading, judged by the pain in Charlie's voice, the look on his face. Nick was just hoping that he was wrong and that it wasn't what he feared it was.
But Charlie wouldn't look at him. His eyes traveled to the long sleeves covering his entire arms. It was Nick's sweater, what Charlie was wearing.
Charlie removed his hand from Nick's hold. It was noticeably shaking as he slowly rolled up the sleeve, and Nick thought he forgot how to breathe for a moment, like the world — his world — suddenly stopped turning, but at the same time the room was spinning too fast, and he was feeling suddenly very dizzy, lightheaded.
It never occurred to him until now that Charlie almost always wore only long-sleeved clothing. Nick just didn't think anything of it until now.
He felt like his world came crushing down around him when he noticed faint lines of scars on Charlie's wrist. It wasn't really that obvious, but now that Nick knew where to look, he thought he'd never seen something more... obvious.
"How long?" Nick asked, feeling hot tears run down his face and he couldn't bother wiping them away.
"I... I don't do it anymore," Charlie said, before he quickly rolled the sleeve back down. He was rubbing at his wrist through the fabric of his (Nick's) sweater now. "Just that... back then when things were that bad, and I didn't know what else to do to... make the pain stop. To just distract myself from that pain, even just for a moment —"
Charlie didn't get to finish his sentence when Nick wrapped his arms around him tight, pulling him in a hug and burying his face at the crook of his neck. Nick was crying, more openly than Charlie now.
"I'm sorry," Nick murmured next, with his face still rested on Charlie's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Char. I didn't know."
"It's not your fault," Charlie said. He was... too overwhelmed to hug Nick back, but he found himself sinking — melting — into Nick's embrace nonetheless. Nick's touch, he never needed it this badly as he did now.
"Still I should have known. You were... you were hurt and I —"
"It's not your fault," Charlie wrapped his arms around Nick's back now. "It's not your fault, Nick. It's not," he kept on repeating then.
It feels like it is, Nick wanted to say that, but he closed his eyes and pressed his lips into a thin line, hugging Charlie so tight like he'd never let go again.
In the end he had to let go. Nick knew that. He held Charlie for as long as he could, though, and when he eventually had to let go, he carefully took Charlie's hand in his. His fingers rested on the hem of the sleeve. Nick was looking at Charlie, asking with his eyes, is this okay?
Charlie gave him a wordless nod, and Nick carefully — ever so gently — rolled up the sleeve of the sweater until the cuts — the scars — on Charlie's wrists were visible.
Nick fought back a sob. He wouldn't break down. Charlie needed him, and he needed to be strong for him now. He brought Charlie's wrist close to his lips, and softly placed gently kisses on the scars there, each and every one of them.
"I'm so sorry," Nick said again, kissing Charlie's scars like he could undo what'd already been done, by simply letting his lips touch that pain that'd been haunting his boyfriend for so long.
"Hey, it's okay," Charlie said, cupping Nick's face with his other hand. "Things are not that bad anymore," he gulped again. "Nick, I... I stopped cutting myself since... since I met you."
Nick held on to Charlie's wrist still. Their eyes were locked with each other's.
"I... I will eat," Charlie continued. "I will, I promise."
"Char, I... I don't want you to take care of yourself for me. I want you to take care of yourself for you."
Charlie paused for a moment, then he gave Nick a faint smile. "I know," he said, quietly.
Nick moved to cup Charlie's face, with Charlie's hand still cupping his face too. "But can you... can you promise me that you will talk to me, if things ever got that bad again? If you ever..." If you ever feel like hurting yourself again.
Charlie pressed his lips into a thin line. The 'I don't want to be a burden' written clear on his face, even if he didn't say them aloud this time.
"Char, please..." I can't stand the thoughts of losing you. If you go too far. I'm scared, Charlie. I'm so scared. Nick didn't — couldn't — say that, but it was clear in his eyes nonetheless, his thoughts, his fear.
"Okay," Charlie nodded. "I promise."
Nick pulled him into another hug then. His tears began soaking his own sweater that Charlie wore, and he could feel Charlie's tears soaking his shirt too. He didn't mind it. He only needed Charlie here, with him, in his arms.
He tightened his hug a little, and Charlie did the same.
"I'm sorry," Charlie said.
"We've banned the S word," Nick attempted to joke, knowing too well in the past ten minutes, he himself had said that word so many times, but his voice got lost in his own sobs.
"We're gonna be okay?" Charlie asked next, still holding Nick tight.
"We're gonna be okay," Nick said. He believed — truly believed — they were going to be okay now.
They would survive this. Together.