Experience (Heartstopper stories) (Smut)

Past

*Trigger warning: Depression, suicidal thoughts, drug abuse, relationship abuse, alcohol, blood.

Charlie

As I flopped onto my old, twin-sized mattress a cloud of dust erupted around me. Perceptible only in the rays of sunlight that bled through the blue curtains on the window next to my bed. I could feel warmth of the rays on my feet and the comfort of the indentation in the mattered. A memory of my younger self, forever embossed in the middle of the mattress. It felt like a hug. The best kind of hug, or maybe second best kind of hug, welcoming me back home.

It had been two years since my last visit home. I spent the last few holidays with Grant and his family in their mountain home. It was never as romantic as I had fantasized, but maybe that should've been a sign. I reflected on the left turn my life took in college. I had majored in English Literature. It began in the wake of my break up with Nick as an escape from the sadness, but grew into an obsession. I read and wrote hundreds of thousands of words, but came up short in finding the meaning of life. After a while, the books weren't enough, so in my free time I filled the void by filling my holes. I was young, dumb, and full of cum as some would say.

It wasn't until junior year that I found Grant, or more that I stumbled into him and then puked on him. In that moment, instead of beating the shit out of me or taking advantage of me, he took pity on me.

My friends had abandoned me for being "reckless" and I had begun the trek home when I ran into Grant's group. According to all of his friend's stories, I was stumbling around drunk and alone on a Saturday night. I heckled them as they passed me by and Grant kindly stopped to make sure I was getting home ok. He caught me as I was beginning to tumble onto the cement sidewalk and instead of thanking him, I threw up. Being the great martyr that he is, Grant offered to take me back to my apartment. He said we lived in the same complex and that he was on his way there anyway. He was a liar.

As his friends went on without him, I tried to get away from this stranger, but he insisted. I was rightfully suspicious, but at that point it was normal for strangers to follow me home and have their way with me. But at that moment, I wasn't in the mood and I wanted nothing to do with him. Even if he was the hottest, sandy-blonde, blue-eyed, muscular, stranger with the sweetest grin with no specific place to be on a Saturday night.

He asked me for directions the entire walk home as if he had no idea where our apartments were. As I drifted in and out of my black out, I realized how stupid I was being. But I couldn't stop it. Honestly, I would have ended up sleeping in a ditch again if not for his help. We made it to my apartment, he picked through my jeans pockets searching for keys, lingering too long in certain, sensitive areas. I protested softly. He carried me to my bathroom and positioned me gently as I vomited again. He rubbed my back as I puked, he cleaned us both up, and put me to bed. This perfect stranger sat next to me and played with my hair as I slept and told me everything would be alright. I believed him.

In the morning he confirmed my drunken suspicion. He told me he was only visiting his friends that weekend. I willfully ignored the bright red flag and allowed him to make me breakfast and then lunch and finally dinner before I fell in love. It took 8 months of long-distance dating for me to transfer schools and move in with him. Schoolwork, work, my friends, and my family became secondary to my love for him. I slipped into the comfortable ignorance of cloud nine that verged on obsession. My love was an ocean and he was the moon that controlled my tides.

After a month of living together, he cheated. I left him, but forgave him as facing the loss of that love was more that I could bare. He cheated again and he swore to be better. I went back, wounded, and threw myself even harder at him. He loved me and he wanted to change for me. I was so focused on my studies that I alienated and I was a horrible boyfriend for making him feel so lonely and disconnected.