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Something nobody tells you when you start meds was just how tired they could make you. Well, okay, that is something they tell you, but what they don’t tell you is how vivid your dreams could be as a result. Charlie wasn’t sure if it was scientifically proven, or even if it was a universal experience, but he knew that when he was more tired, when he was sleeping better, his dreams were clearer, more detailed, more vivid. Sometimes, they were so clear that Charlie wasn’t sure where reality ended and a dream began.
It left him feeling off-kilter every time he woke in the morning. By the time he got to Nick, though, he was able to parse through what he remembered and could figure out what was a dream and what was reality. He went over his memory of the dream, telling his boyfriend about them, and Nick listened with rapt attention, every time. Nick clearly loved hearing about Charlie’s dreams. It made Charlie feel a bit better about feeling like he was losing his mind.
Things had been especially off lately. Charlie wasn’t sure anymore what was a memory and what was reality. He’d started on an increased dose of medication, making him feel strange all the time. He sometimes had to spend hours parsing through what he could remember. His friends would sit with him at lunch and fill in the gaps, telling him whether something truly happened. It felt a bit like a nuisance.
Now, Charlie woke slowly. He couldn’t remember falling asleep, couldn’t remember much of yesterday at all. His eyes felt strangely swollen, like he’d been crying, but he had no idea why. He was swaddled in his blankets, in Nick’s jumper and joggers, the joggers he only wore when he really needed comfort, though he couldn’t remember why.
Charlie went to his phone and opened his messages with Nick. Weird—they hadn’t spoken since early yesterday afternoon, and now it was nearly three in the morning. The last thing was Nick wishing him luck with the doctor and Charlie telling him he loved him. Usually Nick messaged him again, telling him about things he saw or thoughts he wanted to share, and Charlie usually messaged back, and—
He gasped. It hit him like a freight train, the memory, clear as day. But it couldn’t be real. Was it real?
Charlie hadn’t spoken to Nick much yesterday, he’d been in and out of doctors’ appointments all day while Nick had been out with his mum. Until—
No. No, it couldn’t be real.
But… it felt real. Why else would Charlie be wearing the joggers? Why else would he have cried himself to sleep for the first time in a long time?
Because Nick…
Nick was dead.
Charlie dropped his phone. This couldn’t be… could it? Nick wouldn’t be… gone.
But he could remember it so well, too well. He’d gotten a phone call from Sarah as he’d been getting ready for dinner. He remembered feeling confused about Nick’s silence and now, with Sarah calling, he’d felt a bolt of worry. Why would his boyfriend’s mum be calling?
Charlie had answered with trepidation. He could hear the familiar sounds of a hospital in the background. He couldn’t remember exactly what Sarah had said, but he’d gotten the gist: car accident, Nick died on impact. Sarah was in and out all day, so she’d only now been able to call him, and she was so sorry, and—
Charlie had been in shock, more than anything. He’d cried, he remembered that, but not as much as he would’ve expected from himself. His boyfriend was dead. The person he loved more than anything was… gone.
He wasn’t in shock anymore. He cried, sobbing and screaming as he cried, and cried, his body trembling with the deep pain in his chest. It felt like something was tearing him apart from the inside, like something was scratching from the inside of his stomach, trying to find its way out.
His lights flicked on, three people rushing in at once as he sobbed uncontrollably. His family tried to console him, but it didn’t matter, because Nick was dead, he was dead, he was fucking dead dead dead—
“Charlie,” his mother tried desperately, but Charlie could barely hear her. In that moment, he hated her. He wanted to follow Nick to the one place he couldn’t, Nick left him behind. Nick was gone, gone for good, and what could Charlie do? He was fucking seventeen years old, he had his whole life ahead of him, and he was dead. Nick was dead.
He sobbed, nails like claws as he scratched himself, trying to get the thing out of his body. It hurt, it hurt so fucking bad, and he knew that he’d never be able to feel okay again. Because Nick was dead. Nick was dead.
“He’s gone,” he cried. “Nick’s gone, he’s gone—“
“Charlie, what are you talking about?”
“He’s gone—“ Charlie screamed, sobbed, ached. He couldn’t fucking do this. How could anyone expect him to do this? Was he just supposed to go to school on Monday? Was he supposed to give a eulogy? Was he supposed to keep breathing?
“Charlie, Charlie, calm down—“
He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe anymore. And he didn’t fucking want to. He didn’t want to breathe anymore. Nick was gone.
Nick was gone.
“Nick is fine, Charlie—“
“No, he’s not, he’s not, the accident yesterday—“
“There was no accident—!”
“Sarah told me!”
Jane shook her head desperately. “There was no accident, Charlie, Nick is fine!”
Charlie sobbed. How did his mum not know? Didn’t he tell her? What did he do? Did he just leave? Did they let him?
“Sarah called, remember?” He asked. “They were in an accident. Nick’s gone.”
Charlie’s breath tripped and he lost it again. He choked on a sob, wanting desperately to asphyxiate on his own tears and screams. He wanted to die, right now. He never wanted to experience another day without Nick. He didn’t want to keep living if Nick wasn’t living, too.
Charlie could hear more voices, but he didn’t listen to them, they didn’t matter. Nothing mattered anymore. Nick was gone and Charlie didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything anymore. Nick was gone.
He let time slip away, sobbing over and over again. He wanted to lose himself, wanted to let go. He couldn’t yet. Not with his family right here, keeping him from letting his grief take control.
Charlie sobbed helplessly, oblivious to his family. It could’ve been an eternity, but he didn’t care. He wanted to drown in his grief until he didn’t feel it anymore, until he didn’t feel anything anymore.
He found himself swaddled in a comforting embrace, familiar arms pressing him to a familiar chest, his face burrowing in a familiar neck and inhaling a familiar scent. Charlie pulled back, desperate for it to be true. He needed it to be true, he needed—
“Nick!”
He dove back into his boyfriend’s embrace, hands clutching at Nick’s back. He cried again, relief and grief and fear melting away through his tears. Nick just held him like he was the one who thought Charlie had died, like he couldn’t bear to let him go. Charlie held him right back. He’d never let him go again.
“You were gone,” he said helplessly, sobbing through the words. “You were gone, you were gone.”
“I’m right here,” Nick soothed, his voice like a balm on Charlie’s aching heart. “I’m here, baby. I’m right here. It was a dream, Char, it was a bad dream. It wasn’t real. I’m okay. We’re okay.”
Charlie listened to the platitudes as Nick repeated it, over and over. Nick’s okay. Nick’s okay. He’s okay.
Tori brought in a glass of water that Charlie managed to sip. His hands trembled so violently that Nick had to help keep the cup steady so he didn’t spill. Still, Charlie was able to get down half the glass. He felt marginally better afterwards. He felt sick with lingering grief and anxiety, but it was dissipating. Nick’s presence never wavered, their sides pressed together from shoulder to foot as Charlie gathered himself. He slumped into Nick, exhausted.
“I’m sorry,” he said to the room at large.
Nick shook his head. “You know the rules, Char.”
Charlie shrugged a shoulder. “I woke everyone up and caused a big thing.”
“You were afraid,” Nick corrected. “You thought…” He cut himself off with a deep breath. “I dunno how I’d react to thinking the same thing about you. It’s okay, Charlie.”
Charlie turned and buried his face in Nick’s neck, inhaling the scent from his skin and reveling in the feel of his pulse against his cheek. He’s okay. He’s okay.
“Do you want to try to get some sleep, love?” Nick asked carefully. When Charlie tensed, Nick added, “Or, if you’d rather, we could cuddle and watch a movie?”
Charlie sat up, looking into Nick’s concerned eyes. “You’re not leaving?”
Nick’s smile was so sad, but he shook his head all the same. “I’m staying right here, Charlie. Unless you want me to go—“
“No!” Embarrassingly, Charlie’s eyes filled with tears again. “Please.”
“Okay, I’ll stay.”
Charlie sighed in relief. He fell into Nick again, boneless. With help from Julio, the two manoeuvered Charlie underneath the covers with Nick at his side. Nick pulled up a movie on Charlie’s laptop and Charlie curled up against his boyfriend. Nick was still here. Nick was okay.
It took a long time for Charlie to fall back asleep. Every time his body relaxed, almost slipping under, he jerked himself awake, anxious, searching for Nick. He was there every time with a hand against Charlie’s cheek and calming words on his tongue. Eventually, Charlie managed to go back to sleep, his ear pressed to Nick’s chest, lulled into peace by the beat of his heart.