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It has been seven weeks now, almost eight, and to be honest, Charles hasn’t been this happy with anyone before. Billy is funny, smart and most of all, a very good listener. You can tell you have his whole attention when you need it. He genuinly listens to Charles, in a way that’s completely new to him.
Maybe it’s due to the fact that Billy, to put it mildly, isn’t exactly a talker, but Charles definately feels there’s a special kind of listening Billy is doing. Since words aren’t something to be thrown around, getting to the point of things has never been easier. Funny. To get to talk about what’s really important, Charles had to meet a guy that mostly doesn’t talk at all.
His friends doesn’t know about Billy yet, of course. Anne surely knows how to be quiet if she wants to, but her boyfriend Jack is her polar opposite. Making him shut up usually involves him going to sleep. Those two are Charles’ closest friends, but he has a number of acquaintances he meets on regular basis. People he hangs out with on concerts, ball games and parties. He always knew he was a social guy, but it’s not until now that he’s realized just how much of a social life he has.
Billy doesn’t mind, at all. It’s not like he expects Charles to make a lot of changes in his life, just because he can’t be around people. He seems perfectly happy with being a part in Charles’ life in private. The only thing is: they’re both very much in love and the time in privacy can never be too long. They both joke about it, how they act just like any newly in love couple does, being increadibly irritating for everyone outside their little love psychosis, only in total privacy.
Charles’ friends and most of his regular acquaintances, know he’s seeing someone, but only Jack and Anne know it’s serious. That’s right. Charles may be the poster face of social confidence in most situations, but he’s not come out yet. Even Jack and Anne have no clue it’s a guy.
Most people he’s dated either have been irritated at him for, seemingly unnecessairy, being in the closet or by the fact that he’s bi. Billy is only into guys, but has absolutely no problem with Charles being bi, and that’s a huge relief. Now, it hasn’t exactly been a problem when Charles has dated earlier, but straight women and gay men often don’t take him seriously. It’s either ”I’d like to see you make out with a guy” or ”how come you’re not fully out yet”. Like bisexuality isn’t a sexual orientation, but a state of incapability to make a decision – or an opportunity to fuck orund twice as much and always looking for threeways. Charles really hates that. To Billy, thank God, Charles being gay or bi, isn’t interesting at all. In fact, he looked all puzzled when Charles one night brought the subject up.
Billy talks more now, but it’s still a slow progress and Charles is aware that Billy will probably never be comfortable for real with a lot of things Charles wants in his life. But as long as neither of them pretend otherwise, that doesn’t have to be a big problem. Charles doesn’t want to change anything with Billy, except making his anxiety disappear.
Charles really doesn’t mind Billy being quiet. The voice is just one way of communication and Charles has begun to think of Billy’s voice like myopia or a hearing handicap. No one would tell a person with glasses or a hearing device that they can’t use them, but still expect them to read from a distance or take oral instructions. As far as Charles sees it, selective mutism isn’t really that much different when it comes to handle communication. Different tools for different problems, right?
Billy should see a therapist. Social anxiety is hard enough to deal with, but in combination with selective mutism, it can be a pure hell. Charles sees that when they’re in public together. How Billy gets all red and sometimes dizzy when strangers interact with him. He doesn’t want Charles to say anything in those situations, but rather help him ignore or escape them, but it’s not always easy. To be honest, Charles often gets both angry and hurt on Billy’s behalf, when he sees how people – sober, grown-up strangers! – treat him.
Sometimes, Charles just wants to punch them, or push them up against a wall and tell them how much better the world would be if people like Billy could talk and fucking cunts like they could shut the fuck up. One part of the treatment Billy has, includes not to pretend he’s deaf. So, no matter how tempting that excuse is – and after some dates in public, Charles finds it really fucking tempting – Charles can’t help him out by speaking on his behalf in that matter. When Billy is all sweaty, shaky and pale with eyes wide from a silent panic attac in public, and still means it when he says he’s had a nice time, all Charles wants to do is to rob a bank, buy an island in the Caribbean and move there with Billy, building walls around it to keep him safe and relaxed forever.
Another thing with the talking, is that even when Billy has a moment when he’s relaxed and talks and laughs with Charles in a way that makes it impossible to think he has a problem with talking or anxiety at all, he often gets very tired afterwards. That’s a different kind of silence, Charles discovers. It’s like Billy is shut down from exhaustion, but not sleepy. He compares it to soreness after a hard hour at the gym and sure, that’s a quite good way to describe it, but it still pains Charles more than he’s willing to let Billy know, to see him having such a hard time with things most people take for granted.
In another way, dating someone to whom a movie night, a coffee or even shopping isn’t blasé puts things in perspective. Charles secretly loves to go out with a person he can show all his favourite places, knowing he’s the ”door” to them. Suprises of any kind in less than two days notion are out of the question, so Charles’ sense for spontanity must stay back, but he doesn’t mind that at all. He can be spontaneous when he sees his friends or by himself and seeing Billy react on a surprise one time is more than enough. Charles felt really shitty afterwards, but he’d longed so much for Billy, he didn’t think straight. Knowing when Billy would be off the gym, Charles decided to wait for him outside as a surprise.
To put it mildly: not a good idea. Billy, of course, forgave him as soon as the panic attack was over, but Charles still felt like an asshole. Billy, apparently being all bundled up in his own mind, shutting the world out like a pro, got so suprised seeing Charles outside, he had a fucking horrific panic attack. How’s that for a start on a romantic evening? Charles had to practically lead him away to his car, just to get him out of public, and then Billy started to hyperventilate. He couldn’t communicate at all, his breathing haltered and Charles didn’t know what to do but driving straight to the ER.
While having Billy laying with his head in his lap in the waiting room at the ER, Charles learned another thing: just how impossible it would’ve been for Billy to get help without someone who could speak on his behalf. With Billy still in his lap, Charles had to tell the nurse about the social anxiety and explain to her what selective mutism was. That it was in no way certain, or even very likely, that Billy would talk even when the panic attac was over. What had caused it? Well, his boyfriend surprised him outside the gym. You know, that kind of stuff we all get nausea, dizziness and trembles of fear from.
At first, Charles had refused to leave Billy alone with the nurse and later the doc. Not until Billy had some kind of sedative medicine and Charles could see the effect of it. The tension must’ve been extreme, ’cause when the meds kicked in, the change in Billy’s posture was so visible it almost freaked Charles out more than the panic attack. Yeah, and then the tears, of course.
Now it’s been six days since the fit and despite being extremely tired, Billy’s feeling much better. The psychiatric ward of course isn’t a very funny place to stay at, but it’s safe and the staff is nice. This afternoon, Charles has taken some time off to visit him. They’ve had video calls every morning and night, short ones just to see each other, and Billy has given the staff right to contact Charles, as well as answering any questions he has.
Billy’s only been outside once since the fit, to get home and collect some clothes, accompanied by Charles and two members from the staff. He’s not had any visits and no phone calls. Charles doesn’t know much about Billy’s family, but he knows there’s a father somewhere, working on a boat or something. He doesn’t want to snoop in that. Billy will tell him in his own good time.
This day, Charles has been permitted to visit Billy for the entire afternoon. That is, if Billy wants and has the strenght, of course. Charles brings his laptop in case Billy wants to see a movie, his favourite chocolate and an old t-shirt Billy uses to borrow sometimes when he sleeps at Charles’ place. Usually when they spend the night together, they both sleep naked, but Billy isn’t always comfortable with that and Charles simply keeps that t-shirt under the pillow for Billy to use as he like.
Charles can’t wait to see him. He almost forgets he’s entering a closed psychiatric ward. All he can think about is to see Billy again. There’s a little procedure before he can enter. No shoes are permitted for patients or visitors and Charles also has to leave his jewellry, his keys and his belt in a locker during the visit. The things he brought for Billy all pass the test, except from the headphones to the laptop. To be honest, Charles hasn’t thought about how many people in here who actually wants to hurt, or even kill themselves and that gives him the creeps. Billy isn’t suicidal, not even self destructive, thank God, but still… No! No such thoughts.
The moment he enters the actual ward, a woman in about the same age as himself, greets him.
”Hello, you must be Charles Vane. Billy’s waiting for you. Room E. I’m Liza and I have the afternoon shift today.”
”Is he talking?”
”Very little, but he’s really trying. He’s looking forward to see you.”
That’s an understatement. Sometimes Charles has wondered if he’s been too pushy. If Billy really wants to be with him, or if he’s still not certain. The greeting Charles gets now, makes every thought of that sort vanish.
Billy practically clings on to him and Charles’ forgets all about not showing too much emotions and scoops him up in his arms.
”Oh, God, I’ve missed you so much, baby!”
”I’m sorry… I fucked up.”
It’s just a whisper to his neck, but Charles hears it and he hugs Billy even tighter.
”Hey, hey… Don’t apologies, honey. You’ve done nothing wrong, it’s not your fault what happened and if you say that again, I may start screaming and then they probably make me leave.”
Billy laughs. It’s very short and quiet, but still a laugh and Charles buries his nose in his neck, drawing Billy’s scent deep down in his lungs. They move to the bed, to sit down and Charles kisses the sensitive skin while stroking the back, feeling Billy’s spine under the t-shirt. He plants kisses everywhere he can reach from this position.
Charles has missed Billy so terribly these days he’s barely been able to function properly. He’s gotten orders mixed up and has been checking his phone every ten minute in case he’s missed a call or a text. Nothing interests him but how Billy is holding up. Is he eating? Sleeping? Does he have nightmares? What if there’s a new nurse working the nightshift, that doesn’t know how to calm him? What if Billy’s crying himself to sleep, without anyone to comfort him? Does the meds work? How long do you have to be in love with someone before it’s not too early to say I love you?
What Charles feels for Billy after this quite short time together, is beyond him. It’s coming on to him so gradualy, it’s hard to know how long he’s felt this way. He can’t think of anyone else. Whenever he’s been to a party or met his friends for a game or just hanging around, the absence of Billy has been more present than the company.
Charles is crying. It’s not the right moment. He’s not the one being cooped up here, surrounded by strangers and taking meds that makes him even more tired. He shouldn’t be the one crying, but he can’t help himself. He’s afraid, so very afraid he’ll loose Billy, afraid for Billy to loose himself.
Billy strokes his back, mumbling little sounds that aren’t words, but more of hums. Eventually, the worst flood of confused emotions are calmed within both of them and Charles makes Billy lay down with him, his head on Charles’ left arm, tucked in his embrace with Charles’ hoodie as a blanket.
Charles notices how the staff come sneaking on them, but he couldn’t care less. Besides, he’s never been to a psychiatric ward before and who the fuck knows? Maybe snooping on their patients during visiting hours is part of their job to make sure no one’s smuggling in a razor blade in their cigarette pack or something? Billy sniffles a little and Charles kisses his hair.
”I brought you the t-shirt. And Aero Mint.”
”You’re the best…”
Two sentences. I’m sorry… I fucked up. You’re the best…
”I’m not mad.”
”I know.”
Three. Charles’ heart flutters. Billy is talking to him.
”I… I can’t really explain what happened.”
”That’s alright. You had some sort of panic attack.”
”Thing is, I was happy to see you that night. I don’t know why I freaked out.”
”You got surprised, and you don’t like surprises. I forgot that.”
”You know it’s not that I don’t want to be with you, right? ’Cause I really do.”
Eight. Sentences. Weeks. How many more do you need before it’s not too early to say I love you?
”I want to be with you too. More than anything.”
”But I’m so fucked up, Charles… You realise this is not a fucking broken leg or asthma or some other physical shit people wont bat an eye at?”
”I don’t give a fuck about what others think, Billy. You know that.”
”But it’s still a fucking mess to deal with for you. With me… Right now I can talk with you, but I don’t want you to wait for… I mean: it must fucking suck to be with someone you don’t know if he’s gonna talk to you or not.”
Thirteen. Charles pulls him closer. Hugs him hard and kisses his hair.
”You are talking to me, Billy. The only thing that sucks, is that you don’t feel alright. I’ve read lots about selective mutism by now, so believe me when I say that I know you’re not crazy. You’ve made huge fucking progress since I first saw you. You used notes and mimicked, for fucks sake! Isn’t it just, you know, natural with a backlash every now and then?”
”I don’t get it…”
”What?”
”I… I really don’t mean to sound like a fucking drama queen, but I don’t understand you, Charles. I may never recover enough to live a normal life. You… you could get out of this.”
”Is this your way of leaving me, Billy?”
”No! No, I…”
”Then fucking drop it. Look, I know it will be different from a, for lack of better words, more common relationship, but it’s not as if I didn’t understand that from the start. You didn’t suddenly stop talking, so I’m not in this with any unrealistic expectations.”
”Is there any way I can scare you off?”
Eighteen. Charles knows the difference between anxiety out of pure pain and the anxiety Billy feels when he wants something, but is hold back from the illness. Evil little voices inside his head telling him he wont fix it, isn’t worth it, can’t be happy, will be exposed to others ridicule. Charles has always been confident, he’s not afraid to make a social mistake or two and the extent of Billy’s angst when it comes to the things that actually makes him happy, is the scariest part. Charles will never allow any fucking angst to decide for him. He rubs Billy’s shoulder gently.
”Not that I know of, and if I did, I wouldn’t tell you anyway. I’ll never help you to find an excuse for not keep trying to have someting both you and I want, Billy. I’m in love with you and I thought you were in love with me.”
”I am.”
”So do you really want to give up now? Even if we both want whis? I mean, if you get fucking violent or start… I don’t know… believing you’re a comic figure or something I may get second thoughts, but not from this. No way. And we don’t need to rush into anything, especially not now. You need your space, I get that.”
He leans down to kiss Billy’s tense mouth.
”You seem tired.”
He really does and no wonder. This is a fucking day’s work in Billy’s state and he’s probably exhausted. Charles strokes his hair and nods at the bag on the floor.
”Brought the laptop with me. Wanna cuddle to Kill Bill 2?”
They both love Tarantino and especially that film. The dialouge, the portraits, the music… Billy nods. Smiles. His eyes are very tired, both from the fit and the meds, but they’re not empty or absent. And he has talked with ease. At least considering where he is and what he’s been through the last days. There is no other place else in the world where Charles wants to be right now, than by his boyfriends side, even if it’s currently on a narrow bed in a psychiatric ward.
Boyfriend… They’ve not even fucked yet. At least, not in the way they both want to. Hands and mouths are always nice, but even though they’re both pretty openminded on that subject, it’s never been a good time to take the next step. Billy’s too skittish, not about the actual fucking, but anxiety is hardly a turn-on.
Charles wants to give Billy time. He’s never been a very patient guy before, but on the other hand he’s never needed to be. He’s used to both men and women giving in to him easily, flirting and showing what they want. And they don’t want him. They want to fuck him or him to fuck them, but compared to Billy, they all fall short, ’cause they’re rarely interested in getting to know Charles. With Billy it’s all about getting to know each other and Charles loves it.
The visiting hours are soon over and Billy is almost asleep. Charles doesn’t want to leave yet, but the ward has it’s routines and Billy is quite relaxed now. They’ve had a good time, even if it’s been on a psychiatric ward. When Charles slowly moves to raise from the bed, Billy squeezes his hand.
”Please, don’t go yet.”
”I wouldn’t if I didn’t have to, darling.”
He really wouldn’t. It aches to leave, to know that Billy will be alone again. If Charles could, he’d stay right where he is, holding Billy close until he has to get to work in the morning.
The door opens and a nurse comes in.
”I’m sorry to interrupt you, but visiting hours is over, Billy. Charles can come back another day.”
Charles clears his throat, still holding Billy in his arms.
”When will he come home?”
”Can’t say. It depends on what the doctor says.”
”And when is she coming?”
”Tomorrow morning. I’m sorry, but it’s really time for dinner now and we don’t allow visiters during meals.”
”Please, can he stay…?”
Billy’s voice is very quiet, but the nurse hears him. He looks like he genuinly feels sorry for not allowing Charles to stay, but rules are rules.
”I’m sorry, Billy, but that’s not possible. It’s against the rules.”
Billy looks like he’s about to cry again, but then he just nods. Charles gives him a kiss on the cheek.
”I’ll call you later and say goodnight. Alright?”
Leaving Billy there is hard. Doesn’t matter that Charles knows he’s taken care of. The nurses seems nice and of course it’s good that Billy gets help, but Charles also knows by now, that no one else will call or visit. The nurse who’s following him to the door is the same that let him in earlier. As Charles gets his shoes back, he gives it another try.
”Look, I know you’re just doing your job and all, and I’m sure you’re doing what’s best, but I feel really bad about leaving him.”
”I understand that, but you can come back tomorrow.”
”But he’s so lonely. Could you at least promise you’ll call me if anything happens? Even if it’s in the middle of fucking night? It’s not that I don’t trust you or anything, but...”
He swallows hard. Fuck. When did he get this emotional?
”I can’t stand having him think he’s alone in this, you know. Just give me a call if anything happens, okay? And I mean anything.”
”Can’t do that without his permission, but I promise we’ll ask him if he wants us to call you. Alright?”
”Alright. Thank you. And you can call literally anytime about anything.”
”That’s good to know.”
But who’s Charles gonna call? And what’s he gonna say? Hi, my secret boyfriend is at a psych ward at the moment so I need some distraction if I’m not to spend every night worrying sick for him. Thought we could have a beer. How’s your life?
He leaves the clinic and once he’s back home, he do the only thing he’s capable of at the moment. Cries in the pillow until he’s calm enough to actually do anything.
***
He should’ve looked for help earlier. The doctor probably doesn’t intend to sound accusing, but she does anyway. So does the nurse. How has Billy been able to attend school at all and what’s he doing in a university program? They’re genuinly puzzled by that, and Billy doesn’t know if he’s to be offended or not. Since selective mutism isn’t exactly a common issue, he’s not expected anyone to know very much about it on a clinic for all kinds of emergency cases. But they obvious lack of understanding, the way they seem more interested in how his studies are going than to help him tackle the anxiety, still hurts.
”This man who’s been visiting you. Is he your boyfriend?”
Nods.
”Try to talk, Billy. I know it’s hard, but it’s important you keep trying. Is Charles your boyfriend?”
”Yes. Not sure.”
They’ve not said it out loud. Not confirmed it with that word anyway. But they’re in love and Billy doesn’t want anyone else. Charles says the same. Billy swallows.
”I think he is.”
”You’re not seeing other people?”
Seriously? Billy seeing other people? His irritation must be visible, ’cause the doc changes the question.
”What I meant was, are you a couple? He’s not seeing other people?”
Until now he didn’t, Billy wants to shout, but of course he doesn’t. He really didn’t need that picture. Not that he actually believe Charles would go behind his back like that, but dealing with all the other doubts are more than enough right without adding another. He shakes his head.
”Try to use words, Billy.”
”No, he’s not. We’re exclusive.”
”How long have you been dating?”
”Almost two months.”
”And how is it working?”
”Fine.”
”Charles knows about your problems?”
”Yes.”
”How long have you had this problem?”
”Years.”
”How old were you when it started?”
”Eleven or twelve.”
Billy shrugs. He’s not sure, actually. He’s been able to handle it well enough to live an almost normal life for years and prefers not to think about the past too much. The doc frowns.
”That’s quite late for this kind of anxiety problem. Usually selective mutism is shown and diagnosed between the ages three to eight. You had no treatment?”
”I see a therapist.”
”I meant earlier. When you were a teen?”
”No.”
”You had no help what so ever?”
He shakes his head.
”Try to use words, Billy. Did you get any help?”
”No.”
”But your parents and teachers, they must’ve seen you had problems?”
”Guess so.”
”And they didn’t contact a psychiatrist or even a speech therapist?”
This is exactly why Billy doesn’t want to contact the health care system for help. The doc is upset. She sounds angry and it makes Billy’s whole body go on red alert. This has happened so many times before, with teachers, docs, nurses, other kids parents, adults in general. Billy’s silence, or things connected with it, seems vastly provocative to them and they never have the patience not to act out on their frustration and give Billy a chance to hold off the fear. He’s getting completely drowned in other peoples emotions and he can hardly breathe, and talking is so far away it could just as well be as impossible as growing wings and fly.
Billy is highly sensitive for other people’s emotions and that’s exhausting. Charles is the only one who doesn’t force himself on him like that and that’s why Billy can talk to him without panic. But this doctor, no matter how logical her reaction is – of course Billy knows she only wants to help – is scaring him for real now and his whole body locks up in angst. He doesn’t say another word and can only hold on to his knees, crouched up in the chair and wait for the storm to pass.
It’s always horrible, but there are worse and less worse fits as well. This one is so bad his ears get blocked, sweat is dripping from his whole body and the room is spinning around. He can’t hear what the doctor says anymore. The fear has once again become a living organ taking over his body and all Billy knows now is unnamed horror and pain.
***
Charles doesn’t explain. He’s been on the edge since he came back, could hardly sleep the first night, has constantly been looking at his phone and when the clinics number shows on the display, he practically jumps off the couch and answers while running outside to get some privacy.
”Hello?”
”Hello, is this Charles Vane?”
”Yes.”
”This is Ursula Wallace, nurse at the psychiatric ward.”
”What’s happened? Is he alright? Can I talk to him?”
”Billy’s had a quite severe panic attack and we’ve promised to call you.”
”When did it happened? How is he now?!”
”Yesterday. He’s slee…”
”Fucking yesterday?! And you didn’t call me until now?!”
”Since Billy’s an adult and we have professional secrecy, we need for him to confirm we can call you.”
”Even if he’s already said you can? How the fuck is he supposed to confirm anything in a fucking panic attack?!”
”Please, sir, calm down. He’s feeling better now and he wants to see you. You can come by tomorrow and…”
”Tomorrow? I’m coming over now!”
”It’s…”
”Against the rules, yes I know that, but please… Ursula, he’s all alone. You hear me? All fucking alone and scared and you can’t expect me to just sit here and wait when I know he’s… What would you do if it was your boyfriend, huh?”
”Mr. Vane, please…”
”You can say Charles, but I’m still coming over and if you don’t let me see him, I’ll just sit outside until you let me in. You really think Billy’s gonna feel any better if he can’t see me? Can’t you at least call his doctor and ask? Please! I beg you.”
What little calm he had, is gone with the wind. If he showed up now, they’d probably have him locked up too. By now, Charles is sobbing in the phone and the nurse sighs a little, but she sounds both friendly and understanding when she speaks.
”Believe me, Charles, I understand how painful this must be for you, I truly do. If you could try to just calm yourself a little, so we can talk properly, okay?”
”Okay…”
”Good. We’re not helping Billy, or you, by working yourself up like this. Listen, we have our rules and I can’t just break them as I believe you understand. If I should bend that rule and let you come by, I would be in trouble, so I can’t allow that. What I can do, is trying to contact Billy’s doctor and make her aware of the situation.”
”You could do that?”
”I can try, but I can’t promise anything. It can take some time before I get to her and when I’ve made her aware of your request, she still might not have time to call you right away, since she’s busy with a lot of patients.”
”I understand that.”
”And there are no guarantees for her bending the rules even if I get to her, you realise that? In fact, the chances are almost non-existent.”
”Just talk to her… Please!”
”Are you alone now, Charles?”
”No. I’m with some friends.”
”Do they know about this?”
”No…”
Perfect. Full-blown crying mode.
”Charles? Are you still there?”
”Yes…”
”I suggest you’re staying with your friends now, okay?”
”Okay…”
”And when we hang up, I’ll try to contact Billy’s doctor and either she or I will call you back as soon as possible. And by soon, I mean as soon as I can get in contact with her and she has time to spare. You understand?”
”Yes.”
”Good. I know it’s hard, but try to remember we’re taking care of Billy. It’s still better for him to be here, even if he’s lonely, than being at home right now. Right?”
”I know… Could… could you give him a message?”
”Only if I consider it something that wont upset him.”
”Just tell him I’ve called. That I miss him and think of him all the time. Could you tell him that?”
”Yes.”
”Thank you.”
When they hang up, Charles has completely forgotten where he is. He sinks down on the balcony floor with the phone in his lap.
”Are you alright, Chaz?”
Anne and Jack are standing in the doorway, with worried looks. Charles wipes his face.
”It’s… I’m sorry I… Didn’t mean to be a party pooper.”
”Fuck the party. People are already drunk and they’re not looking for you.”
Anne sits down beside him and takes his hand.
”You can tell us, you know. You’ve been in a state for weeks now.”
”We know you’re worried about someone, Chaz. It’s clear as day. And whoever it is, it seems to be pretty serious.”
Jack stands by the balcony door, making sure no one makes them company. Charles starts to cry again and Anne puts an arm around him. Pretty serious. Yeah, you could say that.
”Met him at work. Took weeks before we even spoke, you know. We used notes.”
”Notes?”
Jack looks puzzled.
”He didn’t talk. He… he couldn’t speak even if he wanted to. It’s called selective mutism. So he mimicked his order and I got curious so I asked him out.”
”Using notes?”
”Yeah. He talks, but not very much and never in companies with more than one person.”
”Oh… That explain things, for sure.”
Jack sounds less surprised than Charles had expected and Anne shrugs.
”So, you’ve got a boyfriend with social anxiety and that, what did you call it…?”
”Selective mutism. Means he can talk, there’s nothing physical wrong with him, he’s just fucking terrified of talking for some reason.”
”So you’re using notes?”
”Not that much now, but in the beginning, yes.”
”So you talked to him now?”
”No, it was… Fuck!”
All these fucking tears. If Charles had known he’d be crying like this when he first laid eyes on Billy, he’d probably run for dear life.
”He’s in hospital, alright? Has been for more than a week and they have fucked up visiting rules so he’s all alone there and I haven’t seen him for days and now he’s had a fucking panic attack and I’m not fucking allowed to visit!”
Now Jack is sitting next to him as well. His friends are holding him between them until he calms down a little and Jack squeezes his shoulder.
”I realise this might be a very strange moment to bring this up, but when exactly did you plan on telling us about him?”
”And an even better question: Did you honestly think we didn’t know you’re bi? I mean, come on, Chaz! We’ve been friends since forever, give us some fucking credit.”
Charles only shrugs. Anne’s right. Of course they knew. Those two know him better than anyone, except for maybe Billy, and even if he’s never made a move on a guy in their presence, or even talked about guys in a way that could give a hint, they would figure it out sooner or later. Jack gives him one of his curious looks.
”How about the three of us get the hell out of here, get some food and then you come home with us, Chaz.”
”I don’t know if…”
”You can’t visit him, this party sucks and you didn’t think Jack and I would leave you sobbing all by yourself tonight, huh?”
Anne has always been a bit rough on the edges, but Charles actually likes that. Jack scratches his head.
”Tell us when you’re done with this so called party and we hit home. We’ll have dinner, get drunk and you can tell us all about your mysterious boyfriend. And you don’t have to mince words. I have a schizophrenic mother and a second cousin with frontotemporal dementia. I doubt your boyfriend, what’s his name, by the way…?”
”Billy. And he’s not crazy, he’s just… Sick.”
”Billy. You know, Chaz, I seriously doubt this Billy’s social anxiety problem could be even close to that kind of hell. I’ve experienced bat shit craziness first hand and trust me, you’d choose social anxiety any day over that. Now, lets get the fuck out of here.”
***
He called. Of course he did. Why did he doubt that? Billy’s laying on the bed, body and mind heavy and lethargic from the meds. He doesn’t want these meds, but he takes them anyway, since they’re helping. He doesn’t even need much. Is this how it feels to be relaxed? Not being in pain?
He’s still longing for Charles, but the feeling doesn’t consume him and that’s strange. Billy’s always been sensitive. He has his strategies not to get an overload of things tumbling inside his head. He knows which situations that make him relax, which ones that are strenuous but worth it and which ones that he can’t handle.
Yet! Handle yet. Words are important, even those you don’t say out loud. Billy turns around to lay on the side. He’s wearing Charles’ t-shirt. The man that somehow doesn’t get scared from his sickness, has called. The nurse, Ursula, told him. Charles will come and visit tomorrow. And he misses Billy. He’s thinking of Billy all the time, Ursula said. Billy almost smiles a little before the fatigue and meds puts him to sleep. For the first time in over twenty years, he doesn’t feel alone in his chaos.