The Secret Diary of Charlie Dalton

This is me trying

"You look sick." Todd speaks up one afternoon during their study session. Charlie's wondering why he ever encouraged the shy boy to speak up when they were all together. Everyone is looking his way at that, but he keeps staring at the paper before him while the latin words are starting to blur into a black mess.

"Very charming, Anderson." He laughs it off, but their gazes linger and he begins to get uncomfortable. "He's right though." Meeks observes and leans forward to properly inspect Charlies pale face.

Of course Todd was right. He felt sick, really sick. He wasn't actually, but after two hours of Knox rambling about the date he had planned for Chris he might as well be. "Geez, can't a man be sick in peace?" He dared to look up and met Knox's worrying eyes and hated how his mind tricked him, if only for a second, into thinking it was love instead.

"Do you need someone to take you to the nurse?" Meeks pressed further, but Charlie shook his head. "It's nothing I can't handle." He laughs and they join in. How easy it is to lie to them, Charlie notes. How easy it is to hide his arms under long sleeves and his breath under mints and lots of toothpaste and his thoughts behind poor jokes. How little they must know him, if they haven't figured it out.

But Neil gives him a knowing glance. Neil always gives him a knowing glance. 'You're like that because of Knox, you're gay. You're a pathological liar. It's written all over you.' His eyes seem to scream and Charlie nervously begins to chew his pencil. Neil put up with all the shitty things he did. All the lies, all the snarky comments. Neil knew Charlie, he could read it when he wasn't telling the truth. Charlie was afraid of that. Suddenly he feels a pit in his stomach and it's so much worse then. He just wants to throw up.

He awkwardly shifts, Neils eyes not once leaving him, before he shuffles the papers across him into one big pile and begins to collect his belongings. "You know what, I think I'm gonna go to bed early tonight, I actually really don't feel so peachy." He stands to grab his bag and leave, then he lowers his voice. "I'm real sorry, but I'll have to miss another meeting."

"I don't think you should be alone right now, Char. You look like you're about ready to pass out on us. I'll come with you." That was Knox. Charlie is surprised about it. Some selfish voice cheers in agonising victory. 'He cares!'
But he knows he doesn't really want him to come along. He wants to be taken care of, yes, but he doesn't want to be seen at rock bottom. It's fine to be sick for one night, but he couldn't allow himself to let his demons get the better of him again tomorrow. He needed to be the fun one of the group, if he couldn't do that what was he even good for?

"Thanks but no thanks, Knoxious. I'd rather go to the nurse than have you watch me, stalker." He'd actually really like that. He pats Knox back as he leaves. Nobody follows him. Not even Neil with his awful knowing glance. Perhaps they don't care enough after all.

When Charlie gets to his room he dumps all his stuff under his desk and struggles to get out of his clothes. He's suddenly feeling really hot, sweating alot and the pullover he's wearing feels like a prison he can't escape. When he eventually makes it he throws on a white tshirt and his school sweatpants before he reaches deep into his closet to take a sip of the hidden bottle of Jack. It was preserved for meetings of the Dead Poets Society (he told himself) but now it felt like a forbidden medicine to make his head lighter. Everything seemed to serve that purpose these days. Then he falls into the freshly changed sheets of his bed.

His breathing is strangely shallow and he cannot for the life of him take even one breath that is deep enough to leave him satisfied. His blanket is too warm but not having it cover his body feels odd and like something is missing. There's pressure on his ears that makes him wanna throw up. He rolls in his bed for about twenty minutes until the feeling overwhelmes him entirely and he hastily gathers his toiletry bag and the almost full bottle of Jack before speeding out of the room to the shared bathroom.