Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Nick first noticed it when his school trousers felt loose around the waist. He'd had to tighten his belt an extra notch that morning, frowning at his reflection in the bedroom mirror. The trousers had fit perfectly just a few weeks ago when Mum had bought them for the new term.

"Growing spurt in reverse," he muttered to himself, adjusting the waistband. At seventeen, he supposed his body was still changing, even if it seemed odd to be shrinking rather than growing.

He didn't think much of it until Charlie mentioned it three weeks later.

They were cuddled on Nick's bed, Charlie's head resting on Nick's chest as they watched Netflix on Nick's laptop. Charlie's fingers were tracing absent patterns on Nick's stomach through his t-shirt when they suddenly stilled.

"Nick?" Charlie's voice was careful, measured in that way that meant he was trying not to sound worried.

"Mmm?" Nick's hand continued running through Charlie's curls, not looking away from the screen.

"Have you... have you lost weight?"

The question made Nick's stomach clench uncomfortably. He could feel Charlie tense against him, and when he looked down, Charlie's face was pinched with concern.

"I don't know, maybe a bit?" Nick tried to keep his voice light. "My trousers have been a bit loose lately. Probably just growing or something."

But Charlie was already pulling back, sitting up to look at Nick properly. His dark eyes were wide and searching, scanning Nick's face and body with an intensity that made Nick want to squirm.

"You look thinner," Charlie said quietly. "Your face is... your cheekbones are more prominent. And your wrists—" He reached for Nick's hand, circling his fingers around Nick's wrist. "They're smaller."

Nick gently pulled his hand away. "Charlie, I'm fine. It's probably nothing."

"Nothing?" Charlie's voice cracked slightly. "Nick, sudden weight loss isn't nothing. How much have you lost?"

"I don't know, I don't really weigh myself—"

"You don't know?" Charlie was sitting up straighter now, and Nick could see the familiar signs of anxiety creeping into his expression. "Nick, you have to know. How can you not know?"

"Because it's not a big deal," Nick said, trying to project calm even as his own worry began to spike. He could see where this was heading, could recognize the warning signs from Charlie's darker days. "I feel fine. I'm eating normally. It's probably just—"

"Are you?" Charlie interrupted. "Are you eating normally?"

The question hung heavy between them. Nick stared at Charlie, seeing his own reflection in Charlie's worried eyes, and felt something cold settle in his stomach.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean..." Charlie's hands were twisting in his lap now, a nervous habit Nick knew well. "I mean, are you actually eating normally, or are you just telling me you are?"

The accusation hit Nick like a physical blow. "Charlie, no. No, I would never—"

"You wouldn't tell me if you were," Charlie said, his voice getting higher, more strained. "You'd hide it because you'd think you were protecting me. But Nick, I can see it. You're thinner. Your clothes don't fit. You're losing weight and you're acting like it's no big deal, but it is a big deal, and I need you to be honest with me."

Nick felt his chest tighten. "I am being honest. Charlie, I swear to you, I'm not restricting. I'm not—I would never do that. You know I wouldn't."

"Do I?" Charlie's eyes were bright with unshed tears now. "Because the Nick I know wouldn't lose weight without noticing. The Nick I know would be concerned about sudden weight loss. The Nick I know would—"

"The Nick you know isn't perfect," Nick said, more sharply than he'd intended. He immediately regretted his tone when Charlie flinched. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap. But Charlie, I promise you, I'm not doing anything to lose weight on purpose."

Charlie stared at him for a long moment, and Nick could practically see the wheels turning in his head. Charlie knew eating disorders. He'd lived with one for years, had learned to recognize the signs and the lies and the careful deflections. And now he was looking at Nick like he was seeing all of those things.

"I don't believe you," Charlie whispered.

The words hit Nick harder than a shout would have. He felt something crack inside his chest, a sharp pain that had nothing to do with physical illness.

"Charlie—"

"I can't do this," Charlie said, standing up abruptly. "I can't sit here and watch you disappear and pretend everything's fine."

"I'm not disappearing—"

"Yes, you are!" Charlie's voice broke completely now, tears spilling over. "You're getting smaller and you're lying about it and I can't—I can't watch someone I love hurt themselves. I can't do it again."

Nick stood up too, reaching for Charlie, but Charlie stepped back.

"I need to go home," Charlie said, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. "I need to think."

"Charlie, please don't leave like this. We can talk about it—"

"Talk about what? About how you're going to keep lying to me? About how you're going to keep pretending nothing's wrong while you waste away?"

"I'm not wasting away!"

"Then prove it," Charlie said, his voice steady despite the tears. "Get on a scale. Go to a doctor. Prove to me that you're okay."

Nick opened his mouth to argue, but Charlie was already grabbing his jacket, already heading for the door.

"Charlie, wait—"

"I love you," Charlie said without turning around. "But I can't watch this happen. Not again."

And then he was gone, leaving Nick standing alone in his bedroom, staring at the closed door and feeling like the ground had shifted beneath his feet.

Chapter Text

Nick didn't sleep that night. He lay in bed staring at the ceiling, Charlie's words echoing in his head. You're getting smaller. You're lying about it. Prove to me that you're okay.

The worst part was that Charlie wasn't entirely wrong. Nick had been losing weight—he could see it now, when he looked for it. His face was thinner. His clothes were loose. His wrists did look smaller when he really examined them.

But he wasn't restricting. He knew he wasn't. He'd been eating the same as always—maybe even more, actually, because he'd been hungrier lately. Always hungry, no matter how much he ate.

So why was he losing weight?

The next morning, Nick dug through the bathroom cabinet until he found the old digital scale his mum had bought years ago and never used. He set it on the bathroom tiles and stared at it for a full minute before stepping on.

The number that appeared made his stomach drop.

He'd lost nearly two stone.

Nick stepped off the scale, waited for it to reset, then stepped back on. The same number appeared. He did this three more times, each reading identical, each one confirming what Charlie had seen and what Nick had been trying to deny.

Two stone. In less than two months.

His hands were shaking as he got dressed for school. No wonder Charlie had been worried. No wonder his clothes didn't fit. No wonder Charlie thought—

Nick's phone buzzed with a text from Charlie: Can we talk after school?

Nick stared at the message for a long time before typing back: Yes. I weighed myself this morning.

Charlie's response came immediately: And?

You were right. I've lost weight. A lot of weight.

There was a longer pause before Charlie's next message: Thank you for telling me. We'll figure this out together.

The relief Nick felt at those words was overwhelming. Charlie wasn't leaving him. Charlie still wanted to help. They could work through this together.

But first, Nick had to figure out what was actually wrong with him.

Chapter Text

The doctor's appointment wasn't for another week—the earliest Nick could get in without explaining the situation to his mum, which he wasn't ready to do yet. In the meantime, he started paying closer attention to his body, trying to catalogue everything that might be relevant.

The weight loss was the most obvious symptom, but as Nick thought about it, he realized there were other things too. He'd been feeling restless lately, fidgety in a way that was unusual for him. His heart seemed to race for no reason, especially at night when he was trying to sleep. He was always warm, even when everyone else was cold, and he'd been sweating more than usual during rugby practice.

And he was tired. Bone-deep, exhausting tired, despite sleeping longer than usual (albeit poorly) most nights.

Charlie noticed too, now that he was looking.

"You're shaking," Charlie observed on Thursday afternoon. They were sitting in Charlie's bedroom, supposedly doing homework but mostly just being together. Charlie had been watching Nick with worried eyes all week, and Nick was trying his best not to feel suffocated by the attention.

Nick looked down at his hands. Charlie was right—there was a fine tremor in his fingers that he hadn't noticed.

"Huh," Nick said, trying to sound unconcerned. "Weird."

"Nick." Charlie's voice was patient but firm. "Talk to me. What else have you noticed?"

Nick sighed. They'd been having this conversation in various forms all week, Charlie gently probing for information while Nick tried to downplay his symptoms. But Charlie knew him too well, could read the worry in Nick's face even when Nick tried to hide it.

"I've been tired," Nick admitted. "And my heart's been racing sometimes. And I'm always hungry, but..." He gestured vaguely at himself. "Obviously that's not helping."

Charlie frowned. "Racing heart, weight loss despite increased appetite, tremor..." He trailed off, and Nick could see him thinking. Charlie had spent enough time researching medical conditions during his own recovery to know more than most teenagers about the intersection of physical and mental health.

"What?" Nick asked.

"I don't know. Maybe nothing. But those symptoms together..." Charlie shook his head. "I'm probably overthinking it. What did you tell the doctor when you made the appointment?"

"Just that I wanted a general check-up," Nick said. "I didn't want to worry anyone unnecessarily."

"Nick, you've lost two stone in two months. That's not unnecessary worry, that's a legitimate medical emergency."

The word 'emergency' made Nick's chest tighten. "It's not an emergency. I feel fine, mostly."

"You feel fine... except for the unexplained weight loss, racing heart, tremor, fatigue, and excessive sweating," Charlie said dryly. "Nick, I know you don't want to worry people, but this is serious."

Nick knew Charlie was right, but admitting that felt like admitting that something was really wrong with him, and he wasn't ready for that yet. He'd been telling himself it was just stress, or growing pains, or maybe he'd picked up some minor bug that was taking a while to clear. The idea that it might be something serious, something that required medical intervention, was too frightening to fully acknowledge.

"The appointment's tomorrow," Nick said finally. "I'll tell the doctor everything then."

Charlie reached for Nick's hand, carefully threading their fingers together. Nick's hand felt smaller in Charlie's grip, more fragile, and Charlie's worry was written clearly across his face.

"I'm coming with you," Charlie said.

"You don't have to—"

"I'm coming with you," Charlie repeated firmly. "You don't have to face this alone."

Nick squeezed Charlie's hand, grateful beyond words for the support even as he felt guilty for the worry he was causing.

"I love you," Nick said quietly.

"I love you too," Charlie replied. "And we're going to figure out what's wrong, okay? Whatever it is, we'll deal with it together."

Nick nodded, trying to project more confidence than he felt. Charlie's certainty was comforting, but Nick couldn't shake the feeling that tomorrow's appointment was going to change everything.

Chapter Text

Dr. Rahman had been Nick's GP since he was small, and she'd always been kind but no-nonsense. She took one look at Nick when he walked into her office and immediately pulled up his file on her computer.

"Nicholas," she said, scrolling through his records. "It's been a while since I've seen you. Your mother mentioned you'd booked an appointment yourself—that's unusual for you."

Nick glanced at Charlie, who was sitting in the chair next to him despite Dr. Rahman's initial surprise at his presence. Nick had explained that Charlie was his boyfriend and that he wanted him there for support, and Dr. Rahman had simply nodded and made a note in the file.

"I've been losing weight," Nick said, deciding to be direct. "Quite a bit of weight, actually. And I've been having some other symptoms."

Dr. Rahman's eyebrows rose. "How much weight, and over what time period?"

"About two stone, over maybe six or seven weeks."

The doctor's expression immediately became more serious. "That's significant. Tell me about the other symptoms."

Nick went through his list—the racing heart, the tremor, the fatigue, the excessive sweating, the constant hunger despite the weight loss. Dr. Rahman listened without interrupting, making notes on her computer.

"Any changes in your sleep patterns?" she asked.

"I've been having trouble sleeping. Feeling restless."

"Changes in mood? Anxiety, irritability?"

Nick thought about his snappiness with Charlie, his general feeling of being on edge. "Maybe. I've been a bit more... wound up, I guess."

"Any family history of thyroid problems?"

"I don't know," Nick said honestly. "Mum's never mentioned anything."

Dr. Rahman nodded and stood up. "I'd like to examine you, if that's all right. Nicholas, could you hop up on the examination table?"

The physical exam was thorough but gentle. Dr. Rahman checked Nick's heart rate and blood pressure, listened to his chest, felt around his neck and throat. When she pressed on the base of his throat, Nick winced.

"Tender?" she asked.

"A bit."

She had him hold out his hands, palms down, and Nick could see the tremor more clearly than ever. She checked his reflexes, looked at his eyes with a small light, felt around his neck again.

"Nicholas," she said finally, helping him sit up. "I'm fairly confident about what's causing your symptoms, but I'd like to run some blood tests to confirm. Based on your presentation—the unexplained weight loss, increased appetite, racing heart, tremor, trouble sleeping, and what feels like an enlarged thyroid gland—I suspect you have hyperthyroidism."

"Hyper-what?" Nick asked.

"Hyperthyroidism. It means your thyroid gland is producing too much thyroid hormone. The thyroid regulates your metabolism, so when it's overactive, it essentially puts your body into overdrive. That explains the weight loss despite increased appetite, the racing heart, the restlessness, all of it."

Charlie leaned forward in his chair. "Is it serious?"

"It's very treatable," Dr. Rahman said reassuringly. "But it does need to be treated. Left untreated, hyperthyroidism can cause some serious complications. The good news is that once we get your hormone levels under control, Nicholas should start feeling much better."

Nick felt a wave of relief so intense it was almost dizzying. "So it's not... I mean, it's a real medical condition? It's not something I'm doing?"

Dr. Rahman looked puzzled. "Of course it's not something you're doing. Hyperthyroidism is an autoimmune condition—your immune system is essentially attacking your thyroid gland and causing it to overproduce hormones. It's not uncommon in teenagers, and it's certainly nothing you could have prevented or caused."

Nick felt Charlie's hand slip into his, squeezing gently. When Nick looked over, Charlie's eyes were bright with unshed tears.

"I'm sorry," Charlie whispered. "I'm so sorry I accused you of—"

"It's okay," Nick said quickly. "You were scared. I understand."

Dr. Rahman looked between them with interest but didn't comment. "I'll send you for blood work today, and we should have the results by early next week. In the meantime, I want you to take it easy—no strenuous exercise until we get this sorted. The racing heart and other symptoms can be hard on your body."

"What about rugby?" Nick asked.

"No rugby for now, I'm afraid. Once we start treatment and your levels stabilize, you should be able to return to normal activities. But for now, rest is important."

Nick nodded, though the thought of missing rugby season was disappointing. Still, having an actual diagnosis, a real explanation for what had been happening to him, was worth more than any sport.

"Are there any other questions?" Dr. Rahman asked.

Charlie raised his hand tentatively. "Will he gain the weight back? Once he's being treated?"

"Most patients do gain back at least some of the weight they've lost, yes. It may take time, and everyone's different, but his metabolism should slow down to a more normal rate once his hormone levels are controlled."

Charlie nodded, looking relieved.

"I'll also want to see you again next week once we have the blood work results," Dr. Rahman continued. "And Nicholas, I'd like you to tell your mother about this. I know you're nearly eighteen, but this is the kind of thing where family support is helpful."

Nick's stomach clenched at the thought of telling his mum, but he knew Dr. Rahman was right.

"Okay," he said. "I'll tell her."

As they left the surgery, Charlie was unusually quiet. It wasn't until they were sitting on the bus that he finally spoke.

"I'm really sorry," he said, not looking at Nick. "I should have trusted you. I should have known you wouldn't lie to me about something like that."

"Charlie, you were protecting yourself," Nick said gently. "You saw someone you love losing weight rapidly and not seeming concerned about it. Of course that would trigger your alarm bells. You reacted exactly how someone in recovery should react."

"But I hurt you."

"Yeah, you did," Nick said honestly. "But I understand why. And now we know what's actually wrong, so we can fix it."

Charlie finally looked at him, eyes still worried. "What if the blood tests don't confirm it? What if it's something else?"

"Then we'll deal with whatever it is," Nick said, echoing Charlie's words from the week before. "Together."

Charlie managed a small smile at that. "Together," he agreed.

Chapter Text

Telling his mum was harder than Nick had expected.

He'd planned to sit her down calmly after dinner and explain the situation rationally, but the moment he said "Mum, I need to tell you something medical," Sarah Nelson went into full panic mode.

"Medical? What's wrong? Are you hurt? Are you sick? Nicholas, what's happened?"

"Mum, calm down, I'm okay—"

"Don't tell me to calm down when you're talking about medical things! Sit down, tell me everything right now."

So Nick found himself explaining the weight loss, the symptoms, the doctor's visit, and the probable diagnosis while his mum grew progressively paler.

"Two stone?" she said faintly. "Nicholas, how did I not notice you'd lost two stone?"

"It happened gradually, and I was hiding it," Nick said honestly. "I didn't want anyone to worry."

"Well, I'm worried now! Hyperthyroidism—is that serious? What does that mean for treatment? Are you going to be okay?"

"Dr. Rahman said it's very treatable. I'll probably need medication to control my hormone levels, but once that's sorted, I should feel much better."

Sarah was quiet for a long moment, processing. Then: "Your father had thyroid problems."

Nick blinked. "What?"

"Your father. Before he left, he was having similar symptoms—weight loss, restlessness, always feeling warm. I kept telling him to see a doctor, but he wouldn't go." Sarah's face was pinched with old worry and newer guilt. "I should have insisted. I should have made him go."

"Mum, you couldn't have made him do anything he didn't want to do," Nick said gently. "And his leaving wasn't about his health."

"Wasn't it, though?" Sarah's voice was quiet. "Hyperthyroidism can affect mood, can't it? Make people irritable, restless? What if he was sick and we just didn't know?"

Nick didn't have an answer for that. The idea that his father's abandonment might have been influenced by an untreated medical condition was both comforting and devastating—comforting because it provided an explanation that wasn't just "he didn't love us enough to stay," but devastating because it was too late to fix anything now.

"I'm sorry I didn't notice," Sarah said, reaching for Nick's hand. "I'm sorry you felt like you had to hide this from me."

"I wasn't hiding it on purpose at first," Nick said. "I didn't really notice myself until Charlie pointed it out. And then I was scared to worry you."

"Nicholas Nelson, you listen to me," Sarah said firmly. "I am your mother. Worrying about you is literally my job. I would rather be worried and informed than calm and ignorant, do you understand?"

Nick nodded, feeling younger than his seventeen years.

"Good. Now, what do we need to do? When are the blood test results coming back? When's your next appointment? Do we need to call the school?"

The practical questions were easier to handle than the emotional ones. They made a list of people to inform and things to organize, and by the time they were done, Nick felt less overwhelmed by the whole situation.

"Mum?" he said as they were finishing up.

"Yes?"

"Charlie thought I was restricting. When he first noticed the weight loss. He was really scared."

Sarah's expression softened. "Oh, sweetheart. That must have been terrifying for him."

"He apologized, but I think he still feels guilty."

"Well, he shouldn't. Charlie has lived experience with eating disorders—of course sudden, unexplained weight loss would worry him. His reaction was completely understandable and probably exactly what any healthcare professional would have advised."

Nick hadn't thought about it that way, but his mum was right. Charlie's concern, even his accusations, had ultimately led to Nick getting medical help sooner rather than later.

"You should invite him for dinner tomorrow," Sarah said. "After we get the blood test results. I think we could all use some good news to celebrate."

"What if the results aren't good news?"

"Then we'll deal with whatever comes next," Sarah said simply. "But Nicholas, one way or another, we're going to figure this out. You're not facing this alone."

The words were almost identical to what Charlie had said, and Nick felt a rush of gratitude for the people in his life who were willing to face uncertainty with him.

Chapter Text

The blood test results confirmed Dr. Rahman's diagnosis. Nick's thyroid hormone levels were significantly elevated, and several other markers indicated an overactive thyroid gland. Dr. Rahman prescribed medication to help regulate his hormone production and scheduled follow-up appointments to monitor his progress.

"It may take a few weeks to find the right dosage," she explained. "Everyone responds differently to medication. But most people start feeling better within a month or two of starting treatment."

"And the weight loss will stop?" Nick asked.

"It should, yes. And you'll likely gain back at least some of the weight you've lost, though it may take time. Your metabolism should gradually return to normal."

The relief Nick felt was enormous, but it was nothing compared to Charlie's reaction. When Nick called him with the news, Charlie actually started crying.

"I'm so glad it's treatable," Charlie said through tears. "I was so scared it was going to be something terrible."

"It is something terrible," Nick said gently. "But it's something terrible that we can fix."

"Yeah," Charlie agreed, laughing wetly. "Something terrible that we can fix."

The medication made Nick feel worse before it made him feel better. The first week was rough—nausea, headaches, and an increase in the restless energy that had been plaguing him. But Dr. Rahman had warned him that this might happen, and Charlie was there every step of the way, bringing Nick ginger tea for the nausea and sitting with him during the worst of the side effects.

"I should be taking care of you," Nick said one afternoon when Charlie arrived with homework and soup. "You're the one who's supposed to be in recovery."

"Recovery isn't linear," Charlie said, settling next to Nick on the sofa. "And taking care of someone I love is part of my recovery. It reminds me that I'm strong enough to be there for other people."

Nick looked at Charlie—really looked at him. Charlie's face was fuller than it had been a year ago, his color better, his eyes brighter. He'd been doing so well with his recovery, and Nick's illness had threatened to derail that progress.

"I'm sorry my being sick triggered your anxiety about eating disorders," Nick said.

"You don't need to apologize for being sick," Charlie said firmly. "And anyway, my reaction wasn't entirely about the eating disorder stuff. I was scared because I love you and I could see that something was wrong and I didn't know how to help."

"You did help. You're the one who noticed the weight loss. You're the one who pushed me to see a doctor. If you hadn't said anything, I might have ignored it for months."

Charlie leaned against Nick's shoulder. "We make a good team."

"Yeah," Nick agreed, pressing a kiss to the top of Charlie's head. "We do."

Chapter Text

It took six weeks for the medication to fully kick in, but when it did, the change was dramatic. Nick's energy levels stabilized, his heart rate returned to normal, and the constant restless feeling that had been driving him crazy finally subsided. He started sleeping better, and the fine tremor in his hands disappeared.

Most importantly, the weight loss stopped. Nick didn't gain back all the weight he'd lost—Dr. Rahman said that was normal and nothing to worry about—but he did gain back enough that his clothes fit properly again and his face didn't look quite so gaunt.

Charlie, meanwhile, had been working with his therapist to process his reaction to Nick's illness. He'd been worried that his immediate assumption that Nick was restricting meant his own recovery was more fragile than he'd thought, but his therapist had reassured him that his response had been both understandable and ultimately helpful.

"She said that recognizing the signs of disordered eating, even when they turn out to be caused by something else, is actually a sign that my recovery is strong," Charlie told Nick one evening as they walked home from school. "I know what to look for, and I'm not afraid to speak up when I'm concerned."

"That makes sense," Nick said. "And you were right to be concerned. I was losing weight rapidly and acting like it wasn't a big deal. That would be worrying regardless of the cause."

They'd had this conversation several times over the past few weeks, both of them working through the complex emotions that Nick's illness had brought up. Charlie still felt guilty for accusing Nick of restricting, and Nick still felt bad for dismissing Charlie's concerns initially. But they were learning to forgive themselves and each other, and their relationship felt stronger for having weathered the crisis together.

"Dr. Rahman says I can go back to rugby next week," Nick said as they reached Charlie's house.

"That's brilliant," Charlie said, grinning. "You've missed it."

"Yeah, I have. But it's been nice having more time to spend with you."

"Flatterer," Charlie said, but he was smiling as he said it.

They stood on Charlie's doorstep for a moment, comfortable in each other's presence in a way that had felt uncertain just a few weeks ago.

"Nick?" Charlie said suddenly.

"Yeah?"

"I know this whole thing has been scary and awful, but I'm glad we went through it together. I'm glad you trusted me enough to let me come to your doctor's appointments and help take care of you."

"Of course I trusted you," Nick said. "Charlie, you're the most important person in my life. When I'm scared or sick or confused, you're the person I want with me."

Charlie's smile was radiant. "Good," he said. "Because you're stuck with me."

"I can think of worse fates," Nick said, leaning down to kiss him softly.

As they broke apart, Nick reflected on how much had changed in just a few months. He'd gone from being perfectly healthy to seriously ill to well on his way to recovery. He'd learned things about his family history that changed how he understood his past. He'd watched Charlie's strength and resilience in the face of his own fears and triggers.

Most importantly, he'd learned that having people who love you means never having to face difficult things alone.

"I love you," he told Charlie, because it felt important to say it out loud as often as possible.

"I love you too," Charlie replied. "Now go home and take your medication. Doctor's orders."

Nick laughed, kissed Charlie once more, and headed home, feeling lighter than he had in months. There would be more doctor's appointments, more blood tests, more medication adjustments in the months to come. But he wasn't facing any of it alone.

And that made all the difference.

Chapter Text

"Nicholas Nelson, stand still!"

Nick tried to stop fidgeting as his mum adjusted his tie for the third time. They were getting ready for Charlie's eighteenth birthday party, and Sarah was treating it like a state dinner.

"Mum, it's just Charlie's birthday, not the Queen's jubilee."

"It's Charlie's first birthday since you've been well," Sarah corrected. "That makes it special."

She wasn't wrong. Nick's last blood test had shown that his thyroid hormone levels were finally in the normal range, and he'd been feeling like himself again for months. He'd gained back most of the weight he'd lost, his energy was stable, and he'd even made it back onto the rugby team in time for the spring season.

More importantly, he and Charlie had both learned to navigate the ongoing management of their respective health concerns. Charlie's eating disorder recovery continued to be a daily process, and Nick's hyperthyroidism required ongoing medication and monitoring. But they'd found a rhythm that worked for both of them, supporting each other without losing themselves in worry.

"There," Sarah said, stepping back to admire her handiwork. "Perfect. Charlie's going to think you look very handsome."

"Charlie thinks I look handsome in my ratty old rugby kit," Nick said, but he was smiling.

"That's love for you," Sarah said wisely.

As Nick headed out to meet Charlie, he thought about how much his understanding of love had deepened over the past year. Love wasn't just the butterflies and breathless excitement of new romance, though those were wonderful too. Love was also showing up for someone when they were scared and sick. Love was pushing someone to get help even when it was uncomfortable. Love was holding space for someone else's recovery while managing your own health challenges.

Love was Charlie noticing that something was wrong and refusing to let Nick ignore it, even when it triggered his own fears and anxieties.

Love was Nick trusting Charlie enough to be vulnerable, to admit when he was scared, to let Charlie take care of him.

Love was both of them learning that taking care of themselves was also a way of taking care of each other.

When Nick arrived at the Spring house, Charlie answered the door with a grin that could have powered the entire neighborhood.

"Ready to party?" Charlie asked.

"With you? Always," Nick replied, taking Charlie's hand.

As they walked into the party together, Nick felt grateful for everything they'd been through—the fear, the uncertainty, the diagnosis, the treatment, the recovery. All of it had led them here, to this moment, to this deeper understanding of what it meant to love someone completely.

And that was worth celebrating.