Chapter Text
He should be fine.
Right?
Charlie is much better. He’s even more confident than before. He still struggles of course but that can only be expected.
Why does he feel like this though?
Why is there a weight on his chest whenever he tries to breathe?
Things are better.
Charlie’s better.
So he is fine.
But he looks at Charlie and everything from the last year comes crashing back to him. Being on holiday and not being able to help him. It was hard. But it doesn’t compare to what Charlie went through.
He’s had it so easy
And still has.
So why does he feel like this? Every time he closes his eyes he thinks of Charlie in the bathroom. His chest tightens and his breathing hitches. What if he’s not there for him? What if he’s not there in time? What if he’s not good enough?
Maybe he isn’t.
Being away from Charlie for so long made him feel…dependent. It’s like he doesn’t have a real identity without Charlie. So much of Nick’s love and passion goes into Charlie and he’s not sure if there’s much left. Who is Nicolas Nelson? Because he doesn’t want to be the ‘fake gay kid, who can’t just admit he’s gay’. But then Charlie is there with him and for a moment it feels like everything is going to be alright–he’s whole again. Yet, then it goes straight back to worrying about what might happen to Charlie one day.
He feels like he can’t breathe.
But it doesn’t even matter, none of it does. It’s so stupid. Charlie is so much stronger than him. Why is he so fragile? He doesn’t even know who he is without Charlie. That says so much about him.
He scruffs up Nellie’s hair and chucks on a mint green adidas jumper and jeans. Once he has brushed his teeth and gotten ready he looks in the mirror. He’s fine, he's ready. He jumps in his car ready to go have a picnic lunch with Tara. It was her idea, Nick thought it seemed a little random but agreed to it anyway. Maybe a distraction would do him good.
“Soooo, are you excited about Uni?” Tara gleans at him with her assertive but kind eyes.
“Wha, oh yeah, I guess so. Not much to it really is it?” He pretends to be distracted by watching Nellie run around a tree at the park.
“I mean, why wouldn’t you be? You’ll get to make loads of new friends, go to late night parties, you know party’s at University are like ten times better than here right?”
He laughs. “Oh, and how would you know that?”
“I do my research.” A soft smile and a laugh brightens the mood.
Just for it to be brought back down again.
“You know you’re allowed to be excited, right?”
“I know,” He glances at her with a very unconvincing nod, then looks back out at Nellie.
“I am.”
“Nick, you know I’m always here for you, right?”
“What? Yeah of course.”
“You can talk to me, and any of our friends for that matter. I know that these last few months have been really hard on you.”
“Well, no. Not me, they were hard on Charlie, though.”
“Charlie has been through so much and it’s so good he has such a large support network, especially you. But I’m not talking about Charlie, I’m talking about you. How are you doing?”
He swallows, “I’m fine. Really.”
“You don’t have to pretend you’re fine. We’ve been through this, it’s unhealthy to keep all your problems to yourself.”
Nick shakes his head and bites down on his lip, suddenly feeling overwhelmed with emotion. A burning sensation rises in his chest. Next thing Tara has an arm wrapped around him pulling him in. Tears stream down his face in long drawing lines of guilt and sorrow.
“It’s alright” Tara whispers, “you’re going to be alright.” She rubs his arm in the hold.
“I’m scared,” he chokes out through a sob.
“That’s okay, being scared is okay.” She squeezes him tighter and after a few moments he pulls away wiping his tears. “We’re all here for you, I’m here Nick. Talk to me.”
“I know, but, I just can’t. Not right now.”
Tara nods and squeezes his hand.
_______________________________
He still doesn’t feel better. But he is managing it and Charlie hasn’t really noticed it that much so that’s good.
Charlie’s distracted talking to Elle about something to do with the painting she made for him. The group is all separately chatting away.
Somehow the Paris Squad never looks bored. They are always laughing and smiling about something and hyping eachother up about University and GCSE’s, as well as planning when they are all going to hangout and what happened the last time they hung out.
Nick is in his own little world vaguely listening, when he spots a dark blue sharpener in Tao’s hands—tossing it from one to the other.
He continues fidgeting with the sharpener. Nick watches as Tao pulls out the blade of the sharpener in boredom and curiosity and drops it onto the lunch table in front of them. Picking it back up, he directs the point of the blade to the table and attempts spinning the metallic shard.
Nick watches, the voices of the friend group a distant blur to the object in front of him that holds so many memories in Nick’s mind. So many torturous instincts come over him. He has to fight every urge to snatch the blade out of Tao’s hand and throw it away so it doesn’t harm anyone else like it did Charlie. Every inch of him is telling him to yell at Tao to tell him to put it down. Sequences of a bathroom, lines, blood and a broken Charlie surface his mind. The complete look of utter defeat on Charlie’s beautiful features as he collapsed to the tile floor. Nick’s heart stomps up and down, up and down, up and down. His lungs suddenly feel like they’re collapsing.
“Nick?” Someone says.
“Nick are you okay?” Charlie’s voice.
“You don’t look too good. Do you feel ill?” Another member of the party. More chorused voices add on to the questions and statements.
Charlie squeezes his shoulders tighter to try and get his attention, (he hadn’t even realised the weight of Charlie’s hands being there before hand).
“Do- do, you think you’re having a panic attack?”
A beam of light hits the rotating blade. That’s it.
Acid rises up his throat and before he can even look up it’s pouring out of him onto the grass. There are multiple hands on his back now, one of them feeling so familiar—Charlie. Everyone is talking to him, especially his boyfriend, but he can’t hear them. The gagging subsides and he is left to look at an incredibly worried looking Charlie.
But he doesn’t see the Charlie who is rubbing his shoulder asking him if he wants a sip of water. He sees Charlie on the bathroom floor, covered in blood. The blade is still on the table. Tao has forgotten about it and is looking at Nick. Between the blade and Charlie and the voices it’s just too much and he jolts out of the seat and bolts around the school building til his back is flat against the cold wall. His breathing starts to even out as he takes some deep breathes.
Nick stares at the ground trying to focus on something other than the screams in his chest when a hand lands on his arm.
It’s Charlie, again. Not the ‘Charlie on the bathroom floor” Charlie, just Charlie.
“What’s wrong? Do you feel sick?” He asks gently.
Nick just nods and feels himself being directed into the school and next thing right in front of the school nurse—Charlie’s hand in his. The guy, who Nick forgot his name is sitting at a small little desk in the corner of the sick bay furthest away from the bed. Upon them entering he looks up
“Hi, Nick here, really needs to go home, he just vomited.”
“Oh, no. Poor thing here, do you wanna sit down or lay down? It's fine either way.” He pats the middle of the sick bay bed and then the bell rings. Jacob (oh yeah that’s his name) looks at Charlie.
“You better go to class. Don’t worry he’ll be right.”
He smiles.
Charlie hesitates but reluctantly let’s go of Nick’s hand and gives him a goodbye hug, whispering in his ear, “message me as soon as you can, I hope you feel better.”
Then Charlie leaves.
Nick mutters some excuse about some off sushi he ate for breakfast and sits down. Sarah comes and picks him up not long after with a frown.