(Nick's POV)
Charlie and I are currently laying in bed beside each other, doing our own thing, divided by complete quiet and tension. As I press onto the next chapter of the book that I'm reading, Charlie is figuring out what song he wants to learn the drumming part for next. Once the previous page falls back and onto the many before it I pause, after all I'm not quite ready to read the next chapter since what I just indulged in was deep. It hit home.
"I think that in an alternate universe I'm a Marvel character." I nonchalantly state, pieces of writing that are now stuck in my brain circling my mind. Charlie peers up at me and visibly blanks, "what?" Okay, fair enough. What I just said is very random and confusing. Suddenly my thinking process pauses and I can't say what I'm thinking in my head. It feels like I'm playing a video game and suddenly everything just started lagging. I can't do anything, all I can do is wait in anticipation for everything to reset and get back to working. "Char- I um," frustrated with myself I sigh, "ugh, fuck me."
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My boyfriend slips a post-it note covered in songs that he's considering into my novel then shuts it, snatching it and placing it on his nightstand afterward. From there he closes Spotify and puts his phone down, immediately grabbing both of my hands once his own are free to do so. "Would you like me to help you piece this together?" There's this warming look of sincerity in his eyes, but there's worry also dancing behind them too.
He's stealing a tactic of mine from me. Back when Charlie had frequent anxiety attacks, panic attacks, or when he just couldn't quite get his words to jump past his Adam's apple, I'd ask him simple questions in order to link his words together. That made it easier for him to say what he needed to, because it was less overwhelming. For example, I'd begin to narrow it down by slowly throwing different ideas, as to what it could be about, at him. Like, "is this because of what happened the other day?" or "have you told me about what's causing you to feel upset before?" If he hadn't mentioned anything to me yet we'd go from there. I'd patiently wait for him to unpack everything, (or at least whatever he felt comfortable putting out there in the moment.)
Following my many examples, Charlie starts at step one, whittling down to a topic like an event, a person, a feeling, or anything that has to do with why we're having this conversation in the first place. "Are you insinuating that you're a hypocrite? Or that you're for whatever reason being ignorant?" He softly questions me. As a way to reply I shyly nod. Char calmly glides his thumbs across the backs of my hands, "okay...is this about something that you've said in the past and now regret?" Before responding I take a deep breath, "sort of? I just- I had a revelation. It's to do with what I just read and the conversation between my mother and me earlier today."
His lips part as his eyes widens a tad out of slight shock, "well, that's a lot because both of those seem to be vastly different, so let's break it down for you. How about we start with how those topics tie together?" That sounds like a great benchmark. The tension in my muscles eases a bit, the pounding heart behind my ribs taking a brief moment to slow down.
"Well, the book that I'm reading is about a masked vigilante who runs around helping the people of Hell's Kitchen. He's quite stubborn, but always puts others before himself since he has no regard for himself. In fact, he places his worth all the way below anyone else's. Those around him, his loved ones, are always scolding him for constantly contradicting himself when he saves others, when he can't quite possibly fathom the idea of doing the same for himself. In his mind, as the protector and the caregiver of many human beings, he doesn't also need to be cared for. Basically, he has a savior complex, but not when it comes to himself. And I-" my breath stifles a tad but I still keep solid eye contact with Charlie, "I see myself in him."
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My mouth is dry now, and my eyes are free of expression. I watch as Charlie's pupils dart around, he's assessing, thinking. Though, eventually, he finally says, "I knew that getting help was difficult for you, but I didn't know the extent of it. Love, do you think that lowly of yourself?"
I immediately shake my head, denying his light 'accusation', "no, no, no! I don't, it's just that I have a hard time seeking help and accepting or knowing that I need it. I hate the idea of possibly making you feel like you can't come to me because I'm emotionally distraught. I desperately want to be that person, I don't want you to stop talking to me. And I- if I tell you what exactly mum and I discussed I'm afraid of just that. I fear that you'll shut me out thinking it'll benefit me when it won't because I value knowing that I'm your rock."
Despite having more to say I stop right there, this conversation is twisting and turning a lot. Or at least it feels like it? I don't know, my mind is racing. Honestly, I can't remember what I just blurted out.
Now, onto what my mum said. What if this hurts him? What if I curse him with guilt that attaches to him like a bloodthirsty leach? "I have more to say...but can I just lay with you for a bit? I'm afraid that I'm going to lose the feeling of your warm skin and your tender touch to what I state next." Anxious, Charlie raises a brow but nods, "you're worrying me..but yes, of course, we can do that."
Soon enough we're cuddling, I'm the big spoon whilst he's the little one. My lips are periodically pressing against his neck and shoulder, earning a slight smile from him. "My mum thinks that I have trauma from that night and that I should talk to my therapist about that. I disagree though, that's stupid because it's not true." I finally got it off of my chest, and now my brain is conflicted as to how to feel.
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Charlie immediately exhales then turns to face me. "Your mom is probably right on both ends, and I'm not going to lie to you, I do feel guilty, but that's okay. This is something that we can work through. Nothing about being in a relationship is perfect, but I know that being loved by you is. I'll talk to Geoff about how I feel about what you said, okay? But, you need to promise me that you'll talk to your therapist about all of this too, including this current conversation, please."
I drag my closest hand down the side of his torso, "I promise." Now my heart feels heavy, and I know that so does his. "I love you, Nicholas, I love you so much, and I swear to you that nothing could ever change that, okay?" Suddenly my stomach fills with butterflies, "I love you more Charlie, I love you so much."
Following my words my lover clears his throat, "on that note tomorrow is your day, tomorrow is 'Nick's day', and then after that day it's 'date day' because we haven't gone out like that in a while."
I continue to gaze into his piercing blue eyes as they twinkle, "that sounds nice. But you know what else sounds nice? Fucking you after our date." Charlie instantaneously goes red, "don't do that! We were having a sentimental moment and now I'm going to be horny."
I pull him closer to my body and whisper, "that's my job sweetheart, sorry not sorry." He rolls his eyes, "sometimes you're a dick." He chuckles, "but I thought that you love dicks? Especially mine." Charlie sassily turns around and grabs my book, forcing it into my hands, "okay, that's enough, for the love of god please keep reading before I combust thanks to you and your words."
Why are we like this?
Author's note: Respectfully, I hope that this somehow brought tears to your eyeballs. Alsooo, upcoming smut???? 🫢🫢
(p.s: I just had to write a reference to Daredevil, 😗)