𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚎 𝚋𝚎? {𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚎 𝙳𝚊𝚕𝚝𝚘𝚗}

'ɴᴜᴡᴀɴᴅᴀ,

A very irritable Neil was sitting on my bed when my eyes cracked open. I could feel the dried tears in my eyelashes and my face, I was rubbing them off when I realised Charlie and I weren't alone.

It must've been the boy peacefully asleep in my arms because his breathing steadied mine, and I gestured to Neil to keep quiet. I unhurriedly took Charlie's head from my stomach and laid him back on the carpet.

Careful not to make any hasty movements or noise to break his delicate slumber, I motioned my brother to follow me into the bathroom.

I was washing my face when he finally spoke up, "So you've been sleeping together?"

"Good morning to you, too," I took out the napkin and dried myself, "We've been together for almost two months now, so yes, we sleep together sometimes. Are you going to tell on me?"

He rolled his eyes as if I was being dramatic, "No, I'm not a child, Della. God."

"Could've fooled me with your silent treatment."

"As if you weren't mature enough to start an open conversation afterwards," He piped back. I shushed him, asking him to keep his voice low for the fast-asleep boy in the next room. "You didn't even tell me about Charlie!"

I kept silent, I had no excuse. I was scared to tell him, obviously, but I knew he would understand sooner or later. I kept pushing it off until it was too late.

"I had to find out in Mr Keating's class, of all things! And imagine my surprise when everyone else was just... okay with it," He breathed, "All of them knew. Everyone but me."

"If it helps, I didn't tell any of them. They just knew."

"It doesn't help," He looked at me like I had said something atrocious, "I'm your brother, for god's sake. You can always talk to me. I told you about Todd seconds after it happened!"

"I know, I'm sorry," I sat at the edge of my bathtub, staring at my agitated brother. Oddly enough, now that I knew he knew, I was calm. All my anxiety had faded and I was ready to accept the consequences. "Is your play going well?"

He raised an eyebrow in defiance, "What, you're gonna tell on me then?"

"What," I was stumped, "No, why would I..." Then it clicked. "Jesus, Neil, I wasn't going to rat you out. I was concerned about you, I was scared for you. You know how father reacts, I was trying to look out for you."

"You have a weird way of doing that, that's for sure," He mumbled, but his challenge was evaporating as if he was only slighted by me ratting him out, and everything else was just an excuse to validate his anger toward me. "The play is going great. I'm Puck."

"I know."

"Todd and I practise by the lakes in the evenings, we saw you yesterday," He leaned against the sink, "You're happy with Charlie, right?"

"I am, I don't think I've ever been this happy."

"It didn't seem that way last night," He trailed off.

"That's... complicated," I whispered, my hand now in my hair, trying desperately to preoccupy myself. "It was less his fault and more me confronting my demons."

"I saw the tears, just now," He pointed to my room where Charlie was still fast asleep. "Did he hurt you?"

My eyebrows knitted, trying to figure out what he meant, "He... no, why would he hurt me?"

"Della, you can come to me any time, if you... you know, if you need help."

It registered, the meaning layered in his apprehensive words, "Oh my god, Neil, Charlie isn't abusing me! That bastard is helping me breathe easier, he's the reason I'm alive. I was crying because of our dear father. I looked troubled last night because I wanted to die. I was going to kill myself, and if it wasn't for Charlie... I—"