Heal My Wounds - 7ate9

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Summary:

In a world where any touch from your soulmate heals physical wounds, Charlie keeps finding that he'll randomly heal faster than usual. It takes a while to figure it out, but he does. Eventually.
Notes:

Thank you to my amazing beta, Moomywill!! You were such a big help!

As for the tags, I'm not sure what else to add. I'm mostly sure that everything is covered, but pls comment if there is anything else you think should be tagged!!
(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:
It had been three weeks since Charlie had first been outed, and he wanted to die.

He still remembered that first day with stinging clarity. He'd felt relieved, having finally told his friends and family what he was, and all of them reacted well. And then—

"Look, it's the gay boy, Charlie Spring!"

It was Harry Greene. Up until then, Charlie had been certain Harry didn't know he existed. Charlie had looked up, surprised, to see Harry's laughing face.

"Look at the little fag," another one of the boys had called out. Charlie had felt like his heart was about to fall out of his chest.

It was occurring to him then that everyone had been looking at him. They had all been looking at him, staring at him, and whispering. And it was then that Charlie realised: everyone knew.

He hadn't known what to do. He'd stood there, terrified, way too close to crying, before someone steered him away. Tori had him by the shoulders, walking him right back to the bus. They'd gotten back on and went home together.

He spent the next few days at home, crying and wallowing, until his mum told him that he had to go back. And every day since then had been hell.

It started out with offhand comments and remarks. Then, it escalated to full-on verbal abuse. After a week or so, someone had shoved him. That first shove seemed to unlock something, and it seemed like the whole school decided to use Charlie as their physical punching bag.

Charlie kept his head low now, but that didn't seem to minimise much of the harassment. He just passed the threshold of the front gates when something hard hit his back, causing him to stumble. He could have easily righted himself, if not for the two hands pushing him forward. He collided with the ground, hands skidding across the pavement where he'd tried to catch himself. His head bounced against the concrete, eliciting a slight hiss from between his clenched teeth.

He heard laughter from all sides. Everyone had seen his epic tumble. Great.

Charlie reluctantly climbed to his feet and tried to nonchalantly dust himself off as he mentally assessed himself. His hands were stinging, and his forehead ached, he could feel a bruise forming on his back, and his knee lit up in pain when he tried to apply pressure. Before he could stop himself, he accidentally wiped a red streak across the front of his white uniform shirt. Charlie paused and looked down at his hands, which were torn up. He winced at the sight.

Charlie hurried inside, hoping to find an empty restroom where he could tend to his wounds. He'd learned by now that the nurses would just shrug and hand him some bandages and send him on his way. At least this way he could save himself the embarrassment of having to explain whatever just happened.

It wasn't long, though, before Charlie gave up. His hands needed wrapping, and his head was starting to thump. Maybe he could get away with a concussion and use it as an excuse to stay home for a few days. Maybe his mum would see her son, bloodied and bruised and concussed, and agree that he could stay home from school forever. Unlikely, but encouraging.

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