Leaf On The Wind

You fucking idiot. You goddamn coward.

Charlie's breathing got more rapid as he eyed the plate of food in front of him, his heart at a steady rising rate as the voices got louder and his vision more cloudy. Mum and Dad weren't home yet, Tori was out and Oliver was still at school and he'd had the drive this time, he really did, he wanted to make them happy, you know? Make them all so proud-

He feels like a failure.

The fruit plate, lovingly made most likely this morning in a feeble attempt to keep the fridge stocked should something like this happen, a breakthrough of some kind, just sits there, his fingers brushing it before he snatches them away like they've been burned by fire and he wraps them around his legs and knees as he draws them up to his chin, a sob leaving him.

He can't do it. He wants to do it, so badly, but he can't. It's been months of this. This back and forth. Constantly having to retrain himself to eat again.

It's not like he hasn't been trying, not have others. More family dinners, more supervision at lunch whether it's Nick hovering over him like an anxious mother hen or when he's away somewhere else and can't be with him, Tao and Issac taking up the slack. He's even found that some of the players in the rugby team (sans Harry because he's trash like Ben is) are also concerned, as he finds himself being checked on by them in the hallways.

It's not that it isn't nice and certainly better than Year 9, but it's just so...smothering.

He rolls his shoulders as they quake, it hurts him thinking about it like that. He doesn't like to be a burden on anyone. Especially his friends and, god, Nick-

The older boy had been nothing short of just...fucking perfect. Almost too perfect in fact.

Charlie had always known that Nick had a lot of love to give and it certainly showed with the way he treated his mother and brother. It also showed when he was hanging around with him and his friends and if love was somehow a drink, Charlie just might drown thanks to him.

Of course, that analogy doesn't help how his lungs are making out like he's drowning now and before he knows it, he's up and spirling, food forgotten as the voices called louder still.

Coward.

Coward.

Coward.

The first shaky sob hits him as he reaches the hallway and the stairs become obsolete as he crashes beside them, huddled in a puddle of a long jumper, socks and sweats as he just shakes like a leaf, trembling like it's freezing when it's only August. His mouth becomes dry and his fingers dig crescent moon shapes into his palms and back as he holds himself or attempts to hold himself literally and figuratively together.

The sobs becoming more breathless tells him it's not working as he would like it to.

He doesn't know when it happens, but his fingers are soon sliding across the screen of his phone, clutched in an iron grip as he searches for Nick's number and dials it somehow, starting to choke on the feeling of his throat closing over when someone finally answers.

"Hello? Charlie, love? Is everything alright?"

Charlie doesn't know how to answer. He can't answer. All that comes out of him is a soft sobbing sound that basically describes everything he's feeling at that moment before a much louder one follows it, the concern in Nick's voice picking up. "Charlie, what's going on? Try and talk to me, please."

"I can't, I can't, Nick I don't want to-" His voice is pleading and it sounds like he's in agony as the word dance over his tongue, an acidic bitter taste following them (was that just the guilt or the admission of truth?) as he continues to break down, unable to form more.

Nick doesn't reply, but Charlie's sure he can hear the sobs as they travel from his all too thin chest to his mouth. He hates doing this, he hates being like this, he just wished he wasn't bloody alive, it would be so much easier to stop existing altogether instead of being a fucking intangible storm of emotions, he just-

He only looks up with the doorbell rings, followed by frantic knocking the likes Charlie's never heard before since forever. It takes him almost the same amount of time to reach his feet, but when he does, the door suddenly unlocks and bursts open, Nick standing there and looking like a giant sweaty mess in his hoodie and jeans and completely panicked as Charlie just stands there in bewilderment and shock, scatterbrained thoughts flying though in his state.

When did Nick show up? Was he even on the phone? Was he on the phone the whole time? How did he get here? Did he run? His house is like 10 miles away, that's impossible! He wouldn't run all the way to be here with him, would he? No, no, this is all just stupid, it's-

Nick can obviously see the moment he starts to re-crumble and drops his bag and everything to catch him before he falls back into the puddle shaped mess on the ground before, hands touching his face before his arms are cradling him like a young baby being held by its mother, Charlie's head against his chest as also falls, but much more gracefully that he was about to, kicking the door shut with a free foot as he sits on the stairs with him, whispering reassurances and much kinder words in his ear than what his head has been giving him for the past several hours, even days. Weeks. Months.

This is most likely what they meant in his therapy sessions by "slow process".

He doesn't know how long they stay there, curled up and cut off from the world outside before Charlie finally clams down. When he looks up, the panic on Nick's face has lapsed a lot, but he's still concerned as he uses his hoodie sleeve to dry the other's swollen eyes. "Hi."

"Hi." Charlie's voice is croaky, but it'll recover in a day or two. Maybe even a few hours, if he's lucky enough to not break down again, hiccuping as he speaks again. "I'm sorry."

"Don't say the 'S' word. No more 'S' words today. You've used your quota." Nick jokingly scolds and it makes him almost smile, but he knows Nick can see it's not reaching his eyes as his expression dips as well. "Are you okay, Char?"

"I..." He automatically wants to say "I'm fine", but he hesitates, eyes looking at anything but Nick's face before he admits "No, no I'm not."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Nick's lips are at his temple and it almost makes Charlie start weeping at just how much the other gives a shit. He doesn't, however, despite a few more tears leaving his eyes as he looks up at him. The red from him running here (seriously, what the hell was he thinking?) has faded and left a tone not too dissimilar to one of his beloved rugby balls as he looks back at him, brown eyes continuously looking him over.

What had Charlie done to deserve this boy? He hoped he would one day find out.

For the moment, however, he and Nick just sit there on the stairs and talk, the latter comforting him as he gets emotional again, voice cracking when he talks about what happened, but there's no judgement which still surprises, but makes him feel alive.

Always so on his side, Nick in his typical make-everything-better ways just compliments on how brave he's been and despite everything, that he should be proud no matter what because even if him trying to eat by himself is a step, it's still a step in the right direction.

So typically Nick Nelson.

"You are such a dork." Charlie manages to spit out during hiccups and Nick just grins down at him, blond hair finally starting to dry as the day rolls along. "Yeah, but I'm your dork Charlie Spring."

"I know." Charlie just smiles quietly up at him, things not looking so grey anymore as he rests against his chest and shoulder, Nick's arm a comfortable weight on his side. "Believe me, I know."