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It was like muscle memory.
The same way it was muscle memory to drop his keys into the dish by the door, take his shoes off, and set his coat on the rack.
The same way it was muscle memory to shift in their bed to make room for the other sleeping body and small army of dogs they’d adopted.
It was like muscle memory.
Charlie took a deep breath, looking at the blood on his thighs.
God, he had made a mess. He had made a mess.
But sometimes the only way to make sense of all the worries in his mind was to do this. If he bled, it meant he was human. It meant he was alive.
Someone had once asked him what it was like to do this. Charlie didn’t know how to explain. How could one even begin to explain it?
It felt sometimes, like his body didn’t belong to him. Like he was an intruder in his own body, and he couldn’t reason with his brain that he did belong here. That his heartbeat was his own, that these bones held him up for a reason. This body was his.
Yet it had never felt like it was a home.
They had a flat now, on the outskirts of London with three adopted dogs. Books, plants, and pictures lined the walls. It was a small flat, but it was their own home. Charlie wished that someday he could make his body feel like how their flat felt. Warm, safe, and their own.
“Char? Love, where are you at?” Nick called from the hallway.
How was Charlie going to tell him? He suddenly felt like was fourteen again, not twenty-five.
“Charlie?” Nick was outside the bathroom door now. “You’ve been in there a while. Are you ok?”
Charlie took a deep breath, standing up and wincing. He had forgotten about that burning feeling from the cuts, how it was like a bee sting.
“Nick…”
“Can I come in, love?” Nick asked softly.
Damn, Nick and all his kindness, part of Charlie’s brain thought. Damn how kind he was, how he had stuck with Charlie through all of it. They’d been together for so long, and Charlie could never imagine not having Nick by his side.
Charlie didn’t want to imagine his life without Nick there.
“I’m going to come in,” Nick continued. There was a small pause, and then the door quietly creaked open and Nick appeared.
He had been cooking, the soft flush of his cheeks and flour stains on his trousers told Charlie as much. Nick had recently taken to cooking or baking. He liked to bake for some of the lads on his rugby team and the juniors he trained.
“Oh, sweetheart,” Nick sighed, stepping in and taking Charlie in. “You’re alright.”
Nick moved in and gently guided Charlie to sit on the toilet again, then resting himself on the bath ledge.
“I’m sorry,” Charlie whispered.
“What have I said about sorry?”
“I’m sorry… I’m sorry I still do this,” he breathed. “I’m sorry it’s the first thing I do. I just can’t stop. It’s like a muscle memory, Nick. I’ve done it before I even understand what’s happened. But it’s the only way I know I’m me, that my body is mine .”
Charlie wasn’t sure when the tears started, and he wouldn’t have noticed until Nick gently knelt before him, wiping them away.
“You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” Nick started, keeping his hands there. “You don’t have to explain this. I wish you wouldn’t do this, but also I know this is what you used to cope with for so long. I can’t ask you to just stop that, because that would do more damage.”
Nick moved, opening the bathroom cabinet and taking out the first aid kit.
“What I will ask is that you’re safe when you do it. That you use a clean blade, I know how you get with blood, so if it’s too much for you to clean up, then ask me to help you.”
He took out the antiseptic wipes with what Charlie could only describe as practiced ease. Tenderly, Nick wiped along the cuts.
There was the burn again, and Charlie hissed but Nick kept going.
“You’re not alone,” Nick said softly. “I’m not going anywhere. I don’t love you any less because of this. I love how strong you are, and how brave you are letting me help you like this. I love you more than I can even begin to explain, Charlie Spring. You’re not any less deserving of love because you relapsed.”
Charlie could feel the tears streaming down his face, watching as his boyfriend carefully wiped the blood from his thighs and then wrapped them with the bandages.
“I don’t think they’re deep enough to need stitches,” Nick looked up from where he was kneeling, then softly pressed a kiss to each bandaged thigh. “Do you want some lemon drizzle cake?”
“You made lemon drizzle cake?”
“I did,” Nick grinned.
Charlie shook his head, feeling a quiet laugh bubbling from him. How had he found someone so wonderful?
How had he found Nick Nelson?
“Who’s birthday is this one for?”
“It’s for Eva,” Nick stood up, opening his hands and helping Charlie to his feet. Charlie leaned on Nick, trying to use his boyfriend to steady himself. Nick didn’t falter, he kept supporting Charlie. “Her mum died last year, so she said she doesn’t really want to celebrate her birthday.”
“So, you made her a cake?”
“Well, in theory,” Nick grinned. “You’re going to be my guinea pig.”
“That’s a bit counterproductive, Nicholas Nelson. Tending to my battle wounds only to poison me with cake,” Charlie teased.
“Ah, you saw through my plan,” Nick gasped. “Whatever shall I do now? I will just have to suffocate you… with kisses.”
Quicker than Charlie could react, Nick scooped Charlie into his arms, peppering his face with kisses wherever he could reach.
“Nick, stop!”
“Never!” Nick grinned, equally as breathless as Charlie.
They stood there for a moment, just the two of them and the sound of London echoing in their hallway.
Charlie clung to Nick, burying his face away and Nick understood. He remained perfectly still.
“I hope someday, Charlie, you can understand how much I love you and how much happiness you bring me. But I don’t mind reminding you every day until you do.”
“You’re so cheesy,” Charlie whispered, looking up at Nick. “You’re my favorite person.”
“And you’re mine,” He answered, pressing another soft kiss to Charlie’s lips.
They walked back to the kitchen together, the lamps casting a warm light into the room. Charlie saw Nugget, Nellie and Nex curled together in their basket. He saw the skyline beginning to change from purple to black, stars slowly taking their place in the sky.
He also saw the badly decorated cake that was sitting at a slight angle, with melted icing and a scribbled ‘Happy Birthday!’
Well, it looked more like Nappy Birthair but Charlie wouldn’t comment.
“How does it look?”
“Wonderful,” Charlie smiled, making a mental note to fix the icing tonight when Nick was asleep.
“Hopefully it tastes wonderful as well,” Nick grinned, producing a small plate of the cake.
Charlie sat at the kitchen island, taking a small bite of the cake. His mouth was immediately hit with the lemon, but a soft undertone of sugar.
Nick definitely wouldn’t be going on the Great British Bake Off anytime soon, but maybe he could get away with this cake.
“It certainly is a lemon cake.”
“Lemon drizzle , cake. It’s lemon drizzle,” Nick corrected, trying the cake and then frowning. “That’s not a drizzle.”
“No, it’s not,” Charlie smiled, taking Nick’s hand. “But I know she’ll appreciate that you took the time to do this for her.”
Nick took another bite, shrugging slightly. “Well, it’s not shit.”
“No, it’s not shit,” Charlie chuckled in return, finishing his own slice up. “You’re a good person, Nick Nelson.”
“So are you, Charlie Spring.”
“I love you.”
Nick smiled, pressing a tender kiss to Charlie’s forehead.
“I love you too, Charlie.”