Parings: Dior x Charlie
W/c: 2,646
Summary: While at the doctor's office, Charlie finds out that Dior has a big fear of needles.
TW: Mentions of GAD- Generalized Anxiety Disorder
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THE MORNING SUN CAST ITS GOLDEN RAYS UPON THE UNSUSPECTING COUPLE, Charlie and Dior, as they found themselves in the confines of the doctor's waiting room. Dior found herself at the appointment without knowing the reason, while Charlie was equally clueless about why he was there since Dior wasn't unwell. Mrs. Goodjohn had picked him up on the way to the doctor's office, but now she was mysteriously absent, leaving them without any guidance. The whole scenario felt sneaky and devious, much like Dior and Charlie themselves.
Although, it was approximately 7am, and both teenagers were feeling quite exhausted. Dior had dozed off, her head resting on Charlie's shoulder, their hands entwined beneath them. Interestingly, they found themselves surrounded by elderly individuals, likely due to the early hour. The two young celebrities remained in that peaceful state for some time until a voice suddenly grabbed Charlie's attention.
"Dior Goodjohn?" A nurse whispered, her voice carrying a hint of anticipation, as she emerged from the door, a clip clutched tightly in her hands.
Charlie's gaze locked with the nurse's, his eyes conveying a silent understanding, and she nodded in acknowledgement.
With utmost tenderness, Charlie placed his hand on Dior's velvety curls, caressing them gently as he showered her head with a cascade of affectionate kisses, his shoulder reluctantly parting from hers.
"It's time to wake up, Dior. They're ready for you, angel," Charlie whispered gently as the brown head moved slightly. When she opened her eyes, she was greeted by a bright smile from him.
"Come on, beautiful," Charlie whispered, extending his hands gently. Dior tenderly grasped them, and together they rose to their feet, heading towards the nurse who warmly welcomed them. In an instant, the trio disappeared behind the closed doors.
"Miss Dior, how are you feeling today?" The nurse inquired, her tone filled with compassion as they strolled through the corridor, with the nurse guiding the path.
Dior couldn't help but roll her eyes in exasperation. The last thing she wanted was to engage in mindless small talk, especially during the early hours of the day.
"Tired," Dior whispered, exhaustion evident in her tone.
"I bet you are, girlfriend," the woman in her early forties remarked, "But it's best to tackle this in the morning," she suggested.
Charlie and Dior shared puzzled looks. Tackle what? Dior wondered. With a hint of worry, Dior's hand found Charlie's, fingers lacing together as they walked on. Before long, they arrived at their final stop.
"Okay, lovely. We'll be staying in this room today," the nurse announced, softly pushing the door open to reveal the small room. Dior raised an eyebrow, noticing that there was no examination bed, only a phlebotomy chair in the center.
"Just have a seat in the chair, Dior. I shall return shortly," the nurse declared before exiting the room. Dior complied, cautiously settling into the chair. Charlie followed suit, but chose to occupy the chair beside her.
"What do you think they'll do to me, Charlie?" Dior inquired, her voice laced with worry.
Charlie scanned the room, desperately seeking any clues. "Um, I honestly have no idea," he confessed. The absence of medical supplies made it nearly impossible to decipher the purpose of their visit.
Dior nodded gently, her gaze drifting towards her fingers as she nervously toyed with them, scarcely aware of her leg's subtle trembling.
Charlie stared at Dior, a mix of understanding and frustration bubbling inside him. He could sense Dior's exhaustion and couldn't help but sympathize with her. The uncertainty of what lay ahead weighed heavily on her, and Charlie wished he could ease her worries. It was far too early for Dior to be burdened with anxiety, and he couldn't help but think that all of this could have been avoided if the mysterious appointment, which should have been disclosed earlier, had been scheduled for a later time.
Dior's life was no stranger to anxiety. It was a regular companion, always lurking in the background. However, one fateful night, everything changed. Her anxiety spiraled out of control, leaving her feeling overwhelmed and helpless. Seeking help, she visited a doctor who diagnosed her with GAD - Generalized Anxiety Disorder. This meant that Dior's worries were constant and difficult to manage. Even though she was known for being courageous, stunning, and daring, her days were often filled with stress due to her commitments in acting, dancing, and pursuing a music career. Following her psychiatrist's advice, she made a conscious effort to keep her anxiety in check. And now, with Charlie by her side, their blossoming relationship provided a much-needed source of comfort and support during tough times.
Suddenly, the silence was shattered as the door swung open, snapping everyone out of their reverie. The nurse had finally arrived, carrying a sizable tray. Dior's body instinctively tightened, her eyes widening in anticipation as the tray drew nearer. It held all the supplies - a pad prep, band aids, gauze, a blood collection device, sample tubes, and most notably, a gleaming needle.
Dior's world spun out of control, her vision blurring as she teetered on the edge of consciousness.
"No!" she gasped, desperately scrambling out from the sterile lab chair.
Charlie's brow furrowed in confusion, while the nurse attempted to calm the situation.
"Please, just let us-"
"NO!" Dior's voice trembled, her heart pounding in her chest as she pressed herself against the cold, unforgiving wall.
The nurse's expression softened, cautiously approaching the distressed teenager whose every breath was a struggle.
"Dior, listen," the nurse pleaded, extending a comforting palm. "Don't give in to panic. You will be al-"
"DON'T TOUCH ME!" Dior's anguished scream pierced the air, her voice cracking with the weight of her despair. With a burst of adrenaline, she bolted towards the door, leaving everyone in her wake.
"DIOR?!" Charlie sprang to his feet, propelled by a surge of adrenaline. He dashed out of the room, his eyes frantically scanning the corridor for any sign of his beloved angel. Dior was swift, like a bolt of lightning, and Charlie knew he had to catch up.
"DIOR?" he called out again, his voice filled with urgency as he raced down the hallways, his gaze darting in every direction. Just as he was about to seek help, his acute hearing kicked in, allowing him to discern faint sobs amidst the chaos.
Charlie relied on his heightened senses, following the sound of the sobs. Each step he took, the cries grew louder, guiding him towards a secluded storage closet, its door tightly shut.
With caution, Charlie reached out and grasped the doorknob, his hand trembling slightly. He turned it, slowly opening the door, unsure of what awaited him inside.
The sight that unfolded before him was a torment to his very core. Dior, consumed by anguish, paced back and forth, her tear-stained face a testament to her pain. Each breath was a struggle, her chest heaving violently, her nostrils flaring desperately for air.
With utmost care, Charlie closed the door behind him, his presence a gentle whisper in the room. He approached Dior, his steps as light as a feather, his arms outstretched in a tender offering.
"Dior..." Charlie's voice was a soft caress, his words carrying the weight of empathy. Dior found herself drawn towards him without even realizing it, their souls connecting in that moment.
Tears streamed down Dior's face, her breaths shallow and labored as if suffocating. Her heart raced uncontrollably, the intensity of it all consuming her. Her gaze avoided Charlie's eyes completely, while her hands uncontrollably slapped against his forearms with a gentle, repetitive motion.
"Listen to me, pumpkin," Charlie whispered urgently, his voice gentle yet authoritative. Dior gazed back at him, her brown eyes shimmering.
"It's gonna be okay. I need you to breathe for me. Can you do that?" Charlie inquired in a hushed tone, his voice steady. Dior maintained her focus on him, her hands delicately placed on his arms as she struggled to regulate her breath, frantically seeking a sense of calm within the chaos.
"In and out, beautiful. Focus on my voice," Charlie guided. Dior obeyed, but lost his gaze as she contracted on her breathing.
"Breathe slow... slow... copy me, okay?" Charlie directed Dior's attention by gently placing a finger under her chin, locking eyes with her as she obediently complied. Charlie and Dior both took a moment to inhale deeply.
"That's it," Charlie commended. "Can you tell me what happened?" he inquired gently.
Dior's mind raced, her heart pounding faster as she dwelled on the trigger of the anxiety attack. Anguish contorted her face, a sob breaking free from her lips as her hands gently struck against Charlie's forearms. "Needles," she whispered, her body squirming in discomfort.
"Hey, it's okay. I've got you. Just take a deep breath for me," Charlie reassured Dior, his hands soothingly holding onto hers, gently massaging them. It was needles.
Dior attempted to regain control of her emotions once more, yet it seemed even more challenging than before. The weight of her exhaustion threatened to overwhelm her, until her gaze landed on Charlie's neck. It was then that she noticed his necklace.
Charlie's eyes traced the path of his girlfriend's gaze, and a smile slowly spread across his face as he comprehended the object of her attention. Dior's hand shook as it reached out, her delicate fingers coming into contact with the rough texture of the cross pendant hanging from the silver chain. She tenderly caressed, gently stroked, and smoothly glided her fingers over the cross, a sense of calm washing over her as her sobs gradually transformed into quiet sniffles.
In the midst of her distraction, Charlie seized the moment to gently wipe away the tears streaming down her cheeks. The unassuming necklace that adorned his neck daily seemed to possess a magical quality, easing Dior's GAD with just a touch of the dangling charm. However, on the fateful night of Dior's most intense anxiety attack, Charlie was nowhere to be found, intensifying the situation.
Charlie patiently bided his time, observing Dior's restless movements while gently caressing her luscious brown curls. Only after a moment did he finally break the silence.
"Hey, I get that you're not into getting your blood drawn and all, but we're here together, so we gotta get through this, alright?" Charlie whispered gently, exuding a sense of tranquility in his tone. Dior immediately tensed, letting out a quiet whimper.
"I know," Charlie leaned in and gently planted a kiss on the girl's forehead, showing his understanding. "Hey, what if we make a deal?" he proposed. "If you get this shot, we can head over to my place, snuggle up, and enjoy a movie marathon all day long?"
After a moment of contemplation, a smile tugged at Dior's lips. "Do I get your hoodie?" she inquired, her gaze meeting his.
Charlie let out a gentle sigh, his gaze brimming with love. "Always," Charlie replied, caressing her cheek.
At that moment, the pair drew closer and shared a gentle, electrifying kiss. The scene was enchanting from every angle and awe-inspiring from their point of view. Charlie tried to savor the kiss as his arms wrapped around Dior's waist, drawing her nearer. However, Dior tenderly touched his cheek and separated their lips, a soft giggle escaping her.
Dior's cheeks flushed with a tinge of embarrassment as she and Charlie reentered the room, the nurse diligently arranging the medical equipment. The sound of their footsteps caught the nurse's attention, prompting her to turn around with a beaming smile.
"Ah, you've returned, my dear," the nurse exclaimed, her voice filled with warmth and delight.
Dior simply nodded, her heart pounding with a mix of nervousness and forecast, as she eased herself back into the cold, sterile lab chair. The anticipation within her grew stronger, like a storm brewing on the horizon.
"I knew you were a courageous young lady, so I had a feeling you'd return. That's why I made sure to prepare everything for your arrival," The nurse mentioned. Dior examined all the tools, her gaze moving over them, but what really made her feel queasy was the slender syringe. Its sharp needle gleamed at the tip, with a plastic tube attached to it and a blood collection tube at the other end.
Dior found herself reconsidering the entire situation. This was not what she wanted at all. However, before she could voice her concerns, the nurse had already taken hold of her arm and placed it firmly on the sturdy armrest, securing a tourniquet band around her elbow. With a swift motion, the nurse peeled open a prep pad and glided it across Dior's skin.
As the nurse continued her preparations, Dior felt her body tense up, a mix of anticipation and fear building within her. Charlie stood by her side, his hand slipping into hers, offering a comforting grip.
Before long, Dior was fully prepared, and the nurse turned around, the needle poised between her fingers.
"Bubba...," Dior whimpered, her voice trembling, as she pressed her upper body against Charlie's abdomen.
"I know, Dior," Charlie whispered, planting a tender kiss on her soft curls as he wrapped his arm around her.
"Alright, miss Dior. Hold still," the nurse commanded, her voice laced with a mixture of authority and sympathy. As the needle inched closer to Dior's delicate skin, a surge of fear coursed through her veins. In a desperate attempt to shield herself from the impending pain, she buried her face in the safety of Charlie's neck, seeking solace in his protective hold.
Dior's eyes squeezed shut, bracing herself for the inevitable. The sharp prick of the needle pierced her skin, sending waves of discomfort rippling through her body. A cry escaped her lips, muffled by the sanctuary of Charlie's chest, as he cradled her head with unwavering tenderness.
"Shh, shh, you're okay," Charlie murmured, his voice a gentle balm to her wounded soul. His gaze never wavered from the sight before him, watching as the crimson liquid flowed into the collection tube.
The nurse's voice resonated with reassurance as she uttered, "Almost done," while Dior whimpered softly. In that very moment, a needle gracefully withdrew from Dior's delicate skin, causing a shift in the air as she lifted her face from Charlie's neck. Her eyes fixated on the nurse, who gently pressed a cotton ball against the punctured spot, followed by a swift application of a bandaid.
With disdain for the needle evident in her tone, the nurse declared, "Done," as she gathered her supplies. Dior exhaled a sigh of relief, her gaze locking with Charlie's, who wore an infectious smile.
"You did it!" he exclaimed, his voice brimming with excitement. Dior reciprocated his joy with a smile of her own.
"Dior, your mother has already taken care of the payments, so there's no need to worry. You two are all set to leave," the nurse reassured, a warm smile adorning her face.
"Thank you," Dior expressed, followed by a deep sigh. "And, I'm sorry for the scene I made. I have this thing-"
"Hey, it doesn't matter. Excellent job, honey!" the nurse interjected, her smile unwavering.
Dior couldn't help but giggle, a mischievous smile forming on her face too. In a flash, both Charlie and Dior walked out of the room, swiftly maneuvering through the hallway, until they finally emerged back into the bustling waiting room. Following the nurse's instructions, they approached the door, ready to embark on their journey down the seemingly endless corridor.
Charlie and Dior proceeded down the hallway as the door shut behind them.
Dior's voice resonated with unwavering affection, her delicate fingers entwined with Charlie's. "Charlie," she whispered, her words dripping with sincerity, "I love you."
Charlie couldn't help but smirk. "Well, obviously," he teased.
Dior let out a gentle chuckle before playfully rolling her eyes, as she felt a kiss on her forehead.