{CW: depression, mentions of suicidal thoughts}
| CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
| everything is temporary
ᴏᴀᴋʟᴇʏ ᴄᴀʀɪʟʟᴏ
"Are you hungry?" Nolan asked, removing his head from where it was resting atop mine. I shook my head against his shoulder, continuing to pick at the pills on my sweater.
The past few weeks had drained me. I'd spent my time practicing for Sonarstice, shooting the music video for Lovestruck, doing interviews and a few photoshoots. Everything was going so well, until it wasn't.
The first signs came a week ago, when I couldn't for the life of me get out of bed to go to rehearsal. I ended up telling my band I was sick, and I hadn't shown my face anywhere since.
Nolan was by my side the entire time, coming over every single day that week and staying over the past few nights to make sure I had everything I needed—which wasn't much.
"What did you have for breakfast?" he asked, repositioning himself so he could sit more upright. I relaxed into his arms again, closing my eyes. I didn't want to talk. I just wanted to lay here like this.
"I don't remember," I answered honestly, my voice a little hoarse from not having talked all day. Every thought and event had now blurred together. I'd lost track of reality, not knowing whether my last breakfast of dry cereal was this morning or two days ago.
"If you want anything, I'll make sure you get it. Even if I have to go to the grocery store ten times a day."
"You don't have to do that."
"I know. But I want to." He pushed some of the tangled bird's nest of hair out of my face with a timid smile.
"Why?" I asked, closing my eyes.
"Because I love you."
I was starting to forget what that felt like. Everything was like a dream. I was aware of everything happening around me, but something consistently felt odd as my feelings were filtered out of every single one of these experiences. They were stuck behind this bulletproof glass wall; they were right there, but I had no way to access them.
In the state I was in, it wouldn't feel fair to relay the word back at him, so I squeezed his hand softly. I wasn't looking at his face, but I could imagine a soft, lazy smile on it.
"I'm gonna go pee," I said so he would let me out of his deathly grip. As I stood up, the world spun. For a moment I couldn't tell up from down or left from right, until Nolan's hand held onto mine, and the world gradually started to slow down.
"Please eat something," he begged, grabbing a box of protein bars he'd bought and holding it out in front of me. The box had wrinkled due to his clasp on the thing, and he looked at me with such desperation in his eyes that I was getting worried.
I took the box, taking out one protein bar. Just the simple act made his eyes light up, so I continued, tearing the plastic off halfway.
As the smell of protein powder and peanuts hit my nose, another wave of nausea came over me. My stomach churned, but I forced myself to take a bite anyway. It felt as though my esophagus was closing up every time I chewed on the bar. For a moment I thought I'd go into anaphylactic shock, but the feeling quickly faded into a dull nausea again.
"Are you okay?" Nolan asked, holding onto my arm.
"Yeah," I said as the queasiness slowly disappeared. I forced on a small smile, but it quickly went away as gastric acid almost made its way up my throat.
I held my stomach, which was making weird noises as my organs finally seemed to be active again. "Uhm, I'm going," I said, pointing at my bathroom door.
His hand lingered in my hair as he looked over my face with a concerned gaze, but he kissed my forehead, letting me go anyway.
Once I locked the bathroom door behind me, I let out a deep breath. A familiar face locked eyes with mine. For a second, this unsettling feeling rose from my chest, until I recognized the reflection was simply my own.
I inched closer to my mirror, touching my face. I looked different. My eyes were sunken in as though I hadn't slept in ages, even though I'd been sleeping more than enough lately. My facial hair had become a bit patchy, and the hair on my head looked lifeless and thinned out.
I took off my sweater to see what else had changed, only to be shocked at the sight of blue and purple bruising all over me. I knew I got dizzy spells more frequently lately, and I had the tendency to bump into stuff a lot, but seeing the colors all over my skin was something else.
With my fingers I traced the colored spots coloring my skin. I hadn't remembered it ever getting this bad, and although I could acknowledge it, I couldn't for the life of me find it in me to care.
I pinched at one of the spots on my arm—a deep purple one. As the pain from the earlier injury resurfaced, I felt pulled back to earth. For just a few seconds, everything was real again. Not just the impulses my nerve endings were sending to my nervous system, but also the low rumble of the ventilation system in my bathroom, and the taste of the morning breath that had been building up over the last couple of days, and the cool tiles beneath my feet as my toes curled.
And then Nolan's lowered voice pulled me out of it.
"Oakley, are you okay in there?"
My eyes shot open and I looked at the door I'd locked prior.
My voice trembled as I replied. "Yes," I said. I coughed, turning on the water. "I think I'm gonna go take a shower."
"Okay," he said, but I couldn't hear the sound of his footsteps yet.
I took off the rest of my clothes and stepped into the shower, pouring hot water over my injured body.
•••
I stepped back out bluer than I'd been before. My body was now constantly aching, with every small movement a new shot of pain went through me.
I grabbed a towel and wrapped it around my waist.
"Nolan?" I asked. I looked around the bathroom, looking for something at least semi-clean to wear. There was only a single sweater I'd chucked in the corner earlier this week, and a pair of shorts I must've done the same with.
"Yes?" he asked.
"Can you get me some clothes?"
I grabbed another towel and placed it over my shoulders, effectively covering up the colors I'd given myself, and unlocked the door.
As I peaked my head out, I watched him searching around in my drawers, not just grabbing stuff at random, but even thinking about it before adding it to the pile. Once he was done, he smiled at me, and my heart stopped. His green eyes were looking at me with such admiration I never thought someone would have for me.
"Thank you," I said. He kissed my cheek. I still hadn't brushed my teeth in a few days, of course he wouldn't kiss me.
You're disgusting.
I closed the door again, locking it behind me before putting on the clothes he'd given me.
As the fog on the mirror cleared up, a progressively clearer image of myself appeared. A purple sweater in which I was swimming.
I eyed the other sweater in the corner and took off the purple one, putting the gray one on first and only then layering the purple one on top.
It looked a little better. Maybe he wouldn't notice.
I started finally brushing my teeth—I did it for a lot longer than usual to get all of the bad breath out.
I stepped out of the bathroom and made my way back over to my bed.
"Hey there," he said as I lied down in his arms. He kissed my cheek. "Feeling a little better?"
I nodded wordlessly, watching him. His eyes were locked to mine. He didn't even look at the rest of me.
I kissed his lips gently, waiting for him to act, but as I pulled away, he only had a stupid rehearsed smile on his face.
I kissed him again, kicking my leg over his so we were face to face. His hand moved down my back gently as I left a trail of kisses down his neck.
"Are you okay?" he asked, running slightly out of breath. He had an eyebrow raised as though he was confused.
I nodded, quickly reconnecting our lips. I used my tongue to enter his mouth, pressing my body closer against his. He clutched at the fabric of my sweaters as his tongue found mine, and I groaned against his lips as he agitated one of my bruises, sending a wave of sharp pain through my body.
Having him beneath me felt wrong, but I had to prove that he was the one I wanted. I needed to show him that even though I was going through a rough patch, I'd still want him here with me. He was a part of me.
"Fuck," he swore, his face all red as his eyes finally took in my appearance. He looked me up and down, his hands following his eyes down to my knees and back up my thighs.
I connected my lips with his again, letting my hands trail down abdomen to the waistband of his sweatpants. And he was mesmerized by me. His eyes were filled with longing as I pulled his pants down, like he wanted me. Like he loved me.
But I messed up. I hesitated for just a split second before I kissed down the same trail my fingers had followed. I thought he didn't notice at fist, as his skin was just as hot as before, and he hadn't moved an inch, and he was still growing more solid with ever kiss, but then right as my fingers dipped into his boxers, he grabbed my wrists. And I knew why he stopped me, but I didn't want him to.
"Wait," he said, his eyes wide as the both of us sat up, so we were facing each other. He pulled at my waist gently, so I could be closer to him, but I rolled my eyes, refusing to move. "Are you sure you're okay?"
He looked at me with this stupid look on his face. His eyes scanned mine, trying to look for that apprehensiveness I showed earlier.
"Yes," I said, leaning back in to gently suck at the skin in the crook of his neck. And he wanted it, I knew it, but for some god awful reason he pushed me away again.
"Your sister is literally in the other room."
"Then we'll lock the door and be quiet," I said, ready to get up, but he held onto me tighter, his hands pushing into a bruise on my hip. I winced a little at the pain, but didn't try to move again.
My sister wasn't the reason. I knew that already, but the worry in his eyes only confirmed it.
"What is it?" I asked, growing frustrated. "Do you want to fuck me or not?"
Nolan bit on his bottom lip, his face turning a deep shade of red. He rested his hands on my thighs, and I'd lost his visual attention to the ceiling. "It's not that I don't want to."
"Then what is it?"
"You never initiate it," he said, like it was a bad thing that I did. He couldn't even look me in the eyes anymore.
"Cause god forbid I actually want to be intimate with my boyfriend for once." I crossed my arms.
"No, that's not..." his eyes were frantically avoiding mine for several seconds before they finally rested on me, but he was frowning. He wasn't looking at me with that same admiration as earlier. "There's something wrong. You're acting... a little crazy."
I wanted to scream at him, I wanted to get up and throw things around, I wanted to take his car and crash it into a fucking wall. But instead, I clasped his shirt between my fingers tightly. He swallowed hard and his face went white. He'd only ever been on the receiving end of my anger once. I never wanted him to be, but some sequences of words could only make me see red."You do not call me crazy," I told him. "You can call me sick, you can call me a monster, or ugly. I know I'm all of those things. But never imply that I'm crazy again."
Tears ran down his eyes, and regret started to pour in. I knew what it looked like. It looked like I wanted to hurt him. I would never hurt him.
"Don't cry, I'm sorry," I whispered, my fingers loosened their grip on his shirt all on their own, and instead my hands started shaking. "I'm sorry, I'm scaring you. I would never hurt you. I would hurt myself before I could even think about it. I promise I couldn't live with myself if I ever felt the urge to hurt you."
"No, it's my fault," he said, looking down at the tiny space between us. It was like he wasn't really here anymore.
"Nolan?" I asked, holding onto his cheek. "Talk to me. What are you feeling? Did I hurt you?" I asked, now my own tears matching his as I inspected his body. I couldn't have hurt him. I couldn't stand myself if I did.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I should've just had sex with you and then this wouldn't have happened. I love you."
"No, I'm sorry. You're always making sure I don't feel pressured, but you shouldn't feel pressured either."
He looked up at me, wide teary eyes looked back at me with a little frown, like he wasn't expecting the answer I'd given him.
"I don't have to make it up to you?"
"What?" Now it was me who was frowning. "Of course not. Did... did someone teach you that you should?"
He didn't answer, but that was enough for me. He'd told me brief stories about some of his exes before—especially his first. The one who was quite a deal older than him. This was really the first time I saw the direct impact it had. His anxiety and panic attacks could've come from many places, but this... this was that man's doing. There was no denying it.
"He hurt you," I said, wiping away his tears. "That's not okay. Did you not realize?"
"He didn't rape me. He always gave me the option to walk away. I chose to stay."
He manipulated him. Nolan knew his ex had been a horrible boyfriend, yet it was like whatever manipulation tactics he had did work on him. It was an infection that was just about to clear, and the way I spoke to him just now had opened a new cut, allowing the infection to slowly take over again.
I knew having the conversation about whether or not he was assaulted would not fix it. It would only allow the infection to sicken him even more. I wouldn't let that happen. As long as he was with me, I would keep him safe. I would never hurt him.
"Okay," I said. "Just remember that you'll always be safe with me, okay? I would never pressure you, just like you would never pressure me."
He nodded, his green eyes sparkling as though the words really touched him to his core. Like it was his first time hearing them.
"I was supposed to be comforting you while you were struggling," he said, chuckling. "Somehow you always end up taking care of me."
I smiled. "Nothing makes my day better than hearing you laugh."
He blushed, but tried to hide it by connecting our foreheads. "You know, if you ever initiate something like that again," he kissed my nose, and then my left cheek, and then my right, "I don't think I'll be able to last." He finally kissed my lips, not allowing me to speak, but I had to know.
"What do you mean?" I mumbled in between kisses. It was like he couldn't stand to part, even to catch his breath. Not like I minded. I like it like this.
"You're so hot." I tore myself away from him, scanning his features. And in that little time I gave him, he doubled down.
"You are the most beautiful man I've ever laid eyes on, Oakley. Maybe I don't tell you that enough. Maybe that's why you initiated it. But you deserve to know this: the moment I met you on the set of Gen's music video, I wasn't speechless because of my anxiety. I was nervous, yeah. It was just you I had a hard time breathing around."
Nolan was a lousy liar. When he lied, his nose would flare subtly, his voice would fluctuate like he was singing the words or it'd fall completely flat, and his eyes would widen slightly as though he'd already been caught.
None of that was happening now. I didn't expect tears to fall from my eyes.
"There's just so much... wrong with me," I managed to say, staring at the ceiling. The little skylights blurred into streaks and then into lights again. Maybe there was something a little crazy about me.
"There's nothing wrong with you, Oakley," he said. His tone had changed. "You're going through something. That's okay." A few beats of silence later, he asked me a question. "Do you think you need professional help?"
"No," I said, shaking my head. This should pass, as it always did. In fact, I was starting to feel better.
Unless if was a fluke. Maybe in a week from now, I will starve myself to death, dying before I get the chance to do better. Or will the bruises not be enough, leading me to upgrade to razor blades? Would it remain on the surface or would it get deeper than that?
How much longer until I can't take it anymore and snap?
It was as though Nolan could read my mind, because when I looked at him, I was met with wet, green eyes, accentuated by his darkened lashes and a reddened nose. I hated seeing him like this.
"I'm so sorry," I said, burying myself in his chest. He wrapped his arms around me tightly, pressing against the bruises on my waist. It was comforting in a weird way.
"It's okay," he whispered.
"Everything is temporary," I said. I should feel better soon. I had to believe that.
"Right," Nolan said, finally smiling again. Through his tears and nervous sweating, he still found a reason to smile. "Everything is temporary, except for us."
I buried my face into his chest again.
As much as I wanted to believe him, there was this little voice in the back of my brain telling me that things would go horrifically wrong before they got better. But I knew better than to speak the words into existence.
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
Sorry for the late update! This chapter was so difficult to write, I was going through a bit of an existential crisis so I didn't think writing this chapter would do me any good, hence why I had to take a little break.
I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter!
Bye! <3