Page 23

CHAPTER 22

ANYTHING BUT

CHUCK

Fuck.

It had all been too good to be true, hadn’t it?

His new relationship with Tommy and his ravenous sex drive? The way the little, everyday anxieties had been absent from his life? He’d been an idiot to think things were actually getting better. He’d really believed the new medication was working, so much so that he’d let himself hope.

But there was no arguing with the way he felt. The restless, frantic energy that had filled his body over the last few days had abandoned him completely, punting him off the edge of some proverbial cliff to free-fall into the dark, desolate solitude of his own mind.

He hadn’t slept—couldn’t, with the looming fear that every good thing that had happened recently was about to be yanked away, the rug pulled out from under a fleeting fantasy. He’d gone downstairs in search of coffee at about 5:00 am, when there was no hope of getting more sleep. He’d watched Tommy for a moment, the piece of hair that flopped down onto his forehead and the spot of drool on his pillow made him seem so sweet, gentle, and endearingly boyish.

Chuck knew Tommy was flawed, that he came with baggage and self-doubt and pieces of his past that gave him uneven edges. But where Tommy’s imperfections gave him character and made him relatable, the darkness that clawed at Chuck made him feel unworthy of any of it.

It wasn’t getting any better. Even with the cup of coffee he’d grabbed from the breakfast spread and the fresh breeze tracing over his too-tight skin, even with his feet dangling in the water and the early sunlight dancing on the surface of the lake, Chuck felt lower than ever.

Tommy found him at some point, and his touch on Chuck’s rigid shoulders felt a million miles away. “Wasn’t sure where you were,” Tommy said, lowering himself to sit on the wooden dock beside him.

From the corner of his eye he saw Tommy smile at him, and he knew he was supposed to say something. He needed to reassure Tommy that everything was fine, this was his day to impress his boss, and— Fuck, his swim . Chuck couldn’t stand in the way of that. He couldn’t let his own bullshit weigh down the man who he cared about so deeply.

It all felt impossible. He willed his face to do something approximating a smile and nudged his elbow gently against Tommy’s. It was nowhere near enough—he knew that, but it was better than nothing.

Chuck tried to gather himself as Tommy led them back to the house to join everyone for breakfast. He heard the nervous turn in Tommy’s voice as he bantered with his co-workers, falling back into his habit of showboating to hide his vulnerability. Chuck could hear it, but there was nothing he could do but put one foot in front of the other and try to keep his head upright.

Chuck was painfully aware of the people around them, of the fact that this was Tommy’s moment and he’d chosen to bring Chuck along as his date . Tommy had inadvertently set a bomb off in his life by coming out unexpectedly at a professional event, one that could determine his future and a promotion that was important to him.

Chuck didn’t eat—he couldn’t do anything but sip coffee, even though he knew it would only make him feel worse in the long run. He felt Tommy’s glances, and knew he was worried.

“You okay?” Tommy whispered, concern etched onto his expressive face as he leaned over into Chuck’s space.

“Fine,” Chuck managed. “Just tired.”

Tommy searched his eyes and Chuck tried to hold his gaze. Tommy’s thumb brushed over Chuck’s chin. It was a weird thing to do, touching a chin, but it was such an oddly sweet gesture that Chuck had to will himself not to cry. “Go take a nap,” Tommy commanded softly, still looking at him like he was trying to figure out what was bothering him.

What would he do when he realized the thing that was destroying him was Chuck himself?

Chuck nodded, grateful for the excuse to retreat. His limbs were wooden as he climbed the stairs, throat tight for no reason at all. He should drink some water—he knew that, but the thought of detouring to track down a glass made the dread already filling him swell like a spreading bruise.

He crawled into the unmade bed he’d shared with Tommy the night before. The sheets were fragrant with the scent of detergent, something he hadn’t noticed the night before. He’d been so consumed by Tommy, overwhelmed by his body and his earnest brown eyes.

Fuck. Tommy .

Embarrassment and shame tasted bitter on Chuck’s tongue even as he burrowed down into the bed, pulling the blankets tight around himself until only his face stuck out. He was here with Tommy. He was supposed to be out there supporting him.

Chuck had known, in his gut, that all of this would be too much for Tommy. That the reality of Chuck’s depression would always catch up with him. It would always take the good things away. But he’d been so hopeful, as if maybe the new meds would make everything easier. And they had, for a split second. For a few precious days, he’d felt the way he imagined normal people did—unburdened and free to dive headlong into the giddy happiness that came with falling in love.

Before, his feelings for Tommy had been simply a crush. He could see now that the man he’d once known as his friend was somehow even more capable as a lover. The more time they spent together as romantic partners, the more he watched Tommy bring to the table—more depth, more heart, more more more .

And Chuck? Chuck had nothing to give but a broken mind and a heart that wanted more than it could ever have. Now that he saw all of Tommy, how was he supposed to hold back? How was he supposed to not fall for him?

There was nothing he could do about it now, even though his mind demanded he do something , anything but lie there in the dim light, hiding from the world on a beautiful summer day.

* * *

Chuck must have fallen asleep, because when he woke up it was with a sticky, dry mouth and a throbbing headache. And after only a second of blinking awake, dread overwhelmed him and he almost choked on the force of it.

He had to dig deep to force his body from the bed. A glance at the clock showed it was almost noon. You slept too long , a voice in his head chided, as he slipped on his board shorts and a t-shirt.

Chuck stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror while he scrubbed his teeth. He couldn’t quite believe the man in the mirror was him. He’d gotten new freckles from the past few days in the sun, and even though he knew, rationally, the face he was looking at was his own, it was like he was a spectator trapped in the body of a stranger.

But all of that had to wait until after he got his ass down the stairs and figured out how in the fuck he was going to get his shit together long enough to stand by Tommy’s side while he swam his race. He could hold it together for a few hours. Hell, he’d done it before.

He found Tommy outside on the patio, flushed and shiny with sweat from playing sand volleyball. “I crushed it,” he gushed, obviously proud of himself, and Chuck wished he was in a place to echo that, to tell Tommy how proud he was of him.

Chuck gave him a weak smile and leaned into his sweaty body when Tommy wrapped him up in a hug.

“Feeling better?” Tommy asked as he pulled away, looking intently at Chuck.

“All good,” Chuck replied. His voice sounded echo-y in his own head, like the distant shriek of a whistle while underwater. He swallowed, amazed at the effort the single movement took. “Are you ready for your swim?”

Tommy’s lips curved into a soft and sweet smile, and Chuck’s heart broke. Why couldn’t he be the man who Tommy saw when he looked at him? “I’m ready, coach,” Tommy said, his tone teasing. “Ate a banana at breakfast and everything.”

The next minutes passed in a haze. Chuck was vaguely aware of sticking close to Tommy’s side as they filled their plates with the prepared sandwiches laid out on the patio. Someone pressed a cold glass of lemonade into his hand.

He could have sworn people were aware of his silence, that they were watching him and wondering why he was so quiet. Worst of all was the realization that it wasn’t at all about him but about Tommy. They’d be wondering why Tommy had picked someone like him, who was sulking and expressionless and dull.

God, what the fuck had he done?

“So after lunch we’re playing cornhole over by the pool house,” Tommy said, his voice slightly muffled around the bite of the sandwich he hadn’t fully swallowed. Normally Chuck hated that, but there was something endearing about Tommy’s furrowed brows and the way he held a hand up to cover his mouth. “And after that is the swim.”

Chuck wet his bottom lip, tasting lemonade. “Okay,” he managed, hating how flat his voice sounded.

“Want to be on my team?” Tommy asked, and Chuck somehow deflated more, unaware that it was possible to sink even lower than he already had. Tommy looked so hopeful and eager, like all he wanted in the world was for Chuck to stand next to him for a game of bags with his coworkers.

Chuck couldn’t do it. He’d thought he could pretend, but time had run out and he couldn't hold off the despair that clogged his throat. He pushed to his feet, stumbling slightly. “I need to go to the bathroom,” he said, and turned, keeping his head down as he walked as quickly as he could to one of the half-baths tucked down a hallway.

He shut the door behind him and collapsed onto the floor. Tears welled up in his eyes, and as they spilled down his cheeks a sob wrenched from his chest like huge hands were wringing him dry. Sob after sob, and he wasn’t even sure what he was crying for.

Why was he chasing some dream when he’d had it so good before? He’d sustained a demanding job, cultivated joyous and fulfilling friendships, and, with therapy, had built a peaceful and stable life for himself. Sure, his dick hadn’t gotten hard and his libido had been shot most of the time, but now, crumpled on the floor of a bathroom in a mansion where he didn’t belong, Chuck thought those things felt trivial if it meant he’d never feel like this again.

Because the loudest and most persistent thing rattling around in his head was the excruciating fact that his romantic relationship with Tommy Littleton was always going to end like this, with Chuck unable to hide the broken pieces of himself and Tommy, when faced with the wreckage, walking away.

Time slipped away. Chuck sunk into himself, so deeply buried in a shroud of numbness he wasn’t aware of anything but his solitude and a resigned rage directed towards himself. It was one of the many curses of his depression: that he could feel a loneliness so painful while knowing there were people all around him.

He knew, he fucking knew if he asked, Tommy would drop everything and come running. It made Chuck feel sick to think he would be the one to take this moment away from Tommy, who’d worked so hard for something that seemed so fucking silly from the outside looking in. But none of that mattered, because Tommy had decided it was important to him. It was important enough that he got up before sunrise three days a week. Important enough to face his fears.

Discomfort and shame soured in him, sending a pounding through his head and heart.

It was too much. He wasn’t strong enough for this.

Distantly he heard a knock against the bathroom door. Shit . How long had he been in there? “Just a minute,” he managed to choke out, his voice raw from the sobs that just wouldn’t stop. He needed to get up, but his legs were stiff and his body was unresponsive.

“Chuck? Is that you?” The voice was muffled through the door, but he knew right away it was Tommy.

Fuck fuck fuck.

Fuck, Tommy was outside the door and he was going to see him and it was all going to come to an end.

Maybe if he stayed quiet, Tommy would leave. Chuck was coherent enough to know he was past the point of pretending. He wouldn’t be able to play it off as just a moment of exhaustion, not when his body still shook with silent sobs.

“Chuck.” His voice was louder, urgent. “Please, baby. Open the door.”

Resignation settled over Chuck like a heavy quilt. He reached over, fumbling with the lock. When it was unlatched his arm slumped back to the ground; the single motion draining the last of his energy.

He felt the nudge of the door against his leg as Tommy slipped inside. He heard his breath catch, a choked little gasp that made Chuck’s eyes burn even sharper. Warm hands brushed his forearms where he hugged his knees against his chest. Chuck couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes.

“Fuck, baby, are you okay? Did something happen? What’s wrong?”

Tommy’s voice was soft, but Chuck could hear the panic laced through his words. He tried to steady his voice, but it came out just as broken as he felt on the inside. “I can’t, T,” he admitted with a sob. “I just can’t do it.”

“Are you hurt?” Tommy’s voice was frantic.

Chuck shook his head.

Tommy made a broken noise of his own. “What do you need?”

“Your swim,” Chuck protested.

“Fuck the swim.” Chuck opened his eyes then, finding himself face to face with Tommy’s intent brown gaze as he kneeled on the floor in front of him. His brows were knitted together, the fine lines that framed his mouth deepened in a frown. “Fuck all of it, baby. Right now the only thing that matters is getting you somewhere safe.”

Chuck couldn’t respond, not as Tommy carefully pulled him up to his feet. Not when he guided them through back hallways he didn’t recognize, or when they emerged from a side door onto the cobblestone driveway where they’d parked Tommy’s car.

Tommy helped him into the front seat. Chuck watched, silent, as Tommy reached across him and buckled the seatbelt. “I’m going to go and grab our stuff,” he said, looking Chuck right in the eye. “And then I’ll be right back, okay?”

Chuck felt himself nod. At some point his sobs had faded to shuddering breaths, his despair fading into cold, numb, apathy.

He jolted when Tommy climbed up into the driver’s seat, throwing their bags into the back. The car turned over with a hum.

Tommy held his phone to his ear as he drove through the automated gates. “Hey, Hughes.”

Chuck turned his head to look at him.

“Something’s going on with Chuck,” he went on, gaze fixed on the road ahead of them. “He’s with me out at Lake Murray, so we should be back in a little over two hours. Will you meet us at his place?”

There was a long moment of quiet.

“Yeah, of course, man. He’s safe with me.”