Nick and Charlie life after high school one shots

It's cruel what you mind can do

DISCLAIMER  This does contain graphic depictions of self harm so if that triggers you I wouldn't recommend reading this part.              It was like muscle memory.

The same way it was muscle memory to drop his keys into the dish by the door, take his shoes off, and set his coat on the rack.

The same way it was muscle memory to shift in their bed to make room for the other sleeping body and small army of dogs they'd adopted.

It was like muscle memory.

Charlie took a deep breath, looking at the blood on his thighs.

God, he had made a mess. He had made a mess.

But sometimes the only way to make sense of all the worries in his mind was to do this. If he bled, it meant he was human. It meant he was alive.

Someone had once asked him what it was like to do this. Charlie didn't know how to explain. How could one even begin to explain it?

It felt sometimes, like his body didn't belong to him. Like he was an intruder in his own body, and he couldn't reason with his brain that he did belong here. That his heartbeat was his own, that these bones held him up for a reason. This body was his.

Yet it had never felt like it was a home.

They had a flat now, on the outskirts of London with three adopted dogs. Books, plants, and pictures lined the walls. It was a small flat, but it was their own home. Charlie wished that someday he could make his body feel like how their flat felt. Warm, safe, and their own.

"Char? Love, where are you at?" Nick called from the hallway.

How was Charlie going to tell him? He suddenly felt like was fourteen again, not twenty-five.

"Charlie?" Nick was outside the bathroom door now. "You've been in there a while. Are you ok?"

Charlie took a deep breath, standing up and wincing. He had forgotten about that burning feeling from the cuts, how it was like a bee sting.

"Nick..."

"Can I come in, love?" Nick asked softly.

Damn, Nick and all his kindness, part of Charlie's brain thought. Damn how kind he was, how he had stuck with Charlie through all of it. They'd been together for so long, and Charlie could never imagine not having Nick by his side.

Charlie didn't want to imagine his life without Nick there.

"I'm going to come in," Nick continued. There was a small pause, and then the door quietly creaked open and Nick appeared.

He had been cooking, the soft flush of his cheeks and flour stains on his trousers told Charlie as much. Nick had recently taken to cooking or baking. He liked to bake for some of the lads on his rugby team and the juniors he trained.