Nick needs Charlie

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I'm alive!

Tw: Strong OCD theme, anxiety, panic and paranoia. There's fluff towards the end though I swear :)))

Nick hadn't slept properly in over two weeks. He had been sleeping, but none of the nights of sleep he'd had were good. He kept waking up, worrying about what all his feelings meant. When he woke up, it'd take him a long time to get back to sleep. He'd lay there thinking. Thinking about Charlie, about how much he was drawn to him. Wondering what that meant.

Now, he sat on his bed anticipating Charlie's arrival. He sat crossed legged at first, but then moved his legs out, thinking that sitting crossed legged would make his legs ache. Then he started looking around his room, paying attention to all the small details of it. The tiny cracks on the wall where the paint had dried. The way the paint on the wall opposite him finished wavey as it met the ceiling.

An amuteur job by his dad before he left. Then he started thinking about his dad and how he missed him but also hated him. How dare he just leave like that. Then he hated the colour of the walls, how they reminded him of his dad because he'd painted them that colour.

Being surrounded by the colour suddenly made him anxious and claustrophobic and he started pacing around. Worrying about every small piece of clutter; clearing it up frantically. As if Charlie would see any of it and immediately dismiss him as a friend. After rearranging and picking up clutter his hands felt dirty so he went to wash them. But then he washed them once and he felt like he hadn't washed them well enough so he washed them again and again. Then again, for good measure.

Quickly, he went back to his room and checked it over again. Making sure everything looked okay. But then he noticed how messy his shelves looked. He knew, deep down, that they were okay, only he knew that the books were in the wrong order. But just him knowing was enough.

So he took everything off every single shelf and threw it all onto his bed. Then he ran his hands through his hair, quickly, making sure to grab it at the end and slightly pull it. As if the slight pain would bring him to his senses. It didn't.

He continued to re-arrange his books and ornaments, making sure everything was in its place. He was hardly half way through when his mum called up to him.

"Nick, Charlie's here!"

Nick began to panic, he wasn't ready. His room was a complete mess! Worse than before he started. He couldn't let Charlie come up here. His head span so he sat on the floor, his bed was still covered in stuff.

With his knees drawn up to his chest and his arms wrapped around them, he slowly rocked. It was something he'd always done - ever since he was little. He'd do it in Primary school when the other kids wouldn't let him play with them, then he did it on his bed when his parents were shouting downstairs and now he did it whenever his brain got too loud. Or he was anxious. It just brought him a bit of comfort.

"Nick, your mum asked if-" Charlie started, walking in Nick's room as if it was his own. Nick's eyes snapped up to meet Charlies.

The two of them had grown to be close friends. Both of them just seem to get along as if they'd known each other for years. Charlie really appreciated Nick's friendship and he didn't want to ruin it by telling him he fancied him.

Now, as Charlie stood at Nick's door looking down at him, his heart sank.

"Nick?" Charlie's voice was quiet and soft, but Nick shifted his eyes to look back at the floor.

"Nick" Charlie repeated, moving into the room to sit on the floor next to him, but Nick shifted away.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry" Nick muttered, squeezing the top of his knuckles with the tips of his fingers. His arms still wrapped tight around his legs. He couldn't even look at the mess on his bed behind him, or the tiny cracks in the walls, or even the walls in general.

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