Page 25

CHAPTER 24

A LITTLE LESS ALONE

CHUCK

It was even worse than he’d imagined.

Chuck pulled the baggy sleeves of the hoodie Tommy had given him in the car down to cover his hands and sunk onto his couch. David sat across from him, frowning down at his phone. Knowing David, he was probably reading blog posts on how to care for someone in the depths of a depressive episode. Tommy watched him from the opposite end of the couch in sweats and one of Chuck’s t-shirts, his hair damp and messy. The distance between them felt vast, like every inch apart cemented in Chuck’s mind that a relationship between him and Tommy in the wake of this was unattainable.

He probably wanted space from him .

But he was here waiting for you , another voice in his head reminded him.

It was time for Chuck to tell him. He knew he had to.

“I have clinical depression.” Tommy’s gaze snapped to him, while David’s expression turned understanding, encouraging. No going back now . “I was diagnosed in college. I went to see a therapist and it was all fine. Um, then a few years later I started using medication to help me manage it, and it worked for a long time.”

He watched David lift his black baseball cap from his head, threading fingers through his hair before setting the hat back in place. “I thought things were going well,” he said, concern clearly written on his face. “What changed?”

“There were some side effects I was tired of, and my psychiatrist suggested I try out a different medication to see if it could help.” Mustering what he hoped was a wry grin, Chuck gestured to himself. “Obviously it’s not working.”

“Who did you talk to today?”

Chuck glanced over at Tommy, his proximity even from the other end of the couch lending him a tiny bit of strength. “First stop was my psychiatrist, Dr. Mahoney, and then I had an appointment with my therapist, Dr. Anderson.”

Across the room, David shifted in his seat. “What’s the plan?”

Chuck deflated, exhaustion making the effort to form words feel like a monumental task. "I'm supposed to try these meds for at least another month to see if the side effects even out, but Dr. Mahoney said I can just titrate back off of them if it feels like too much” He rubbed his sleeve over his eyes. “I scheduled some extra therapy appointments. That should help.”

Devastation flashed across David’s face. Beside him, Tommy was quiet.

“So there’s nothing we can do right now?” David asked.

Chuck shook his head.

“How can we support you?”

Tears streamed down his face. He was cracked in half, guts spilled out on the floor and there was nothing he could do about it.

Wordlessly he reached for the man who he thought might make all of this a little easier to bear, even as the guilt of roping Tommy into his madness squeezed his chest tight. But Tommy was right there, his warm, solid body enveloping Chuck; even though Chuck was taller, his limbs longer, Tommy somehow managed to make him feel safe. A little less alone.

Chuck curled up against Tommy, the weight of his arm around his shoulders a reminder that he was still alive, that he inhabited a body that was more than the mind he was currently trapped in.

“I’m here.” The word was so soft it was barely a whisper, spoken right against his ear.

Chuck caught his breath, wiping his cheeks. He could feel David’s gaze on them both from the other side of the room, but he didn’t look at him as he tried to explain what he needed.

“It’s not going to get better right away,” Chuck admitted, his fingers picking at a loose thread on the knee of Tommy’s sweats. “Just…don’t sit around and wait for me to be normal and happy.”

He glanced up at Tommy, who gave him an encouraging nod. He went on. “Swimming is good. I don’t always want to, but it helps. The water. The exercise. And I’ll want to be alone but maybe don’t—” Chuck had to stop, swallowing harshly as his eyes burned again. Fuck, wasn’t he cried out yet? But he shook his head. This was all part of it. “Maybe don’t let me be alone for too long,” he finished.

It was an odd feeling, being suspended between a lethargic numbness that cast his mind in a haze of gray and sudden waves of panicked helplessness that made him feel like maybe he couldn’t make it through this.

But then David’s voice, low and steady, brought him back to reality. “We’re here for you every step of the way, Chuck. All you have to do is ask and we’ll be there.”

“I’m probably not going to ask,” Chuck admitted. “That’s just not how this works for me.”

“Then we’ll show up,” Tommy said, giving Chuck a firm squeeze. “No matter what, we’ll keep showing up.”

David nodded his agreement.

A muted wave of gratitude filled him, and he wanted to say thank you, wanted to tell the two men how much their presence meant to him. He needed them to know he’d always thought his depression was something he had to face alone, but now his best friend and the man he loved were there, standing steady by his side.

That was the worst part about depression. No matter how many times he’d settled into a routine that lulled him into thinking he had managed his mental health, every fucking time he was reminded that his depression was as much a part of him as his freckles or his toes. It wasn’t going anywhere.

And right now he was stuck in it, the haze dragging him down until all he wanted was to close his eyes and sleep. Maybe on the other side of this he’d be able to vocalize his gratitude to his friends. Maybe, when he wasn’t drowning, he’d tell them how much he loved them.

“I’m going to head out,” he heard David say. His eyes must have drifted shut.

“Thank you.” Tommy said. “For everything, Hughes. Thank you.”

He heard a slap that sounded like hands clapping together. “Text me if you guys need anything.” David’s voice again. Then there was the rough tickle of whiskers brushing against his forehead and a soft press of warm lips. “Love you, Chuck,” his best friend said softly, and then he was gone.

Chuck heard the door click shut. He slumped into Tommy’s warm body, subconsciously burrowing his face into Tommy’s chest.

Tommy brushed his fingers up and down Chuck’s bicep. “Can I feed you?”

Chuck wasn’t hungry, but he nodded. He knew from experience that even though he didn’t give a shit about food right now, he needed to eat.

“How about mac and cheese?”

Chuck’s stomach gave a little twinge of interest. He licked his chapped lips. “From the box?”

Tommy’s huffed laugh was warm against Chuck’s hair. “Yeah, baby. From the box.”

The last thing Chuck heard before sleep dragged him under was Tommy’s distant voice saying “Okay, Angel. Let’s go make your dad some mac and cheese.”

* * *

Chuck woke up hours later with a pillow tucked under his head and a blanket draped over his body.

Tommy must have been waiting for him, because by the time he’d sat up and rubbed the grime from his eyes, Tommy was placing a glass of water and a bowl of vibrant orange mac and cheese down on the coffee table.

Tommy sat quietly on the other end of the couch, most of his attention trained on his phone while Chuck slowly worked through the bowl. It was fine, and while his body would have preferred to not eat, the inexplicable yet familiar comfort of noodles and powdered cheese was enough to keep him going through the motions of chewing and swallowing.

When he was finished, he drained the glass of water and slumped back into the cushions. He watched Tommy, his eyes tracing over the flop of brown hair that curled on his forehead and the tiny cut where he’d nicked himself shaving at the lake house.

It struck Chuck, then, that Tommy was right there beside him. The truth was out. He knew everything, and he was still there.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” Chuck said, his words coming out in a whisper. Tommy immediately put his phone down, giving Chuck his full attention. “With everything we were doing physically, I know I should have said something.” Tommy’s brow furrowed, and his lips twitched like he was going to respond. Chuck held up a hand and went on. “I just wanted this to work between us so badly.”

“Baby,” Tommy started.

Chuck shook his head. “You didn’t know about this when we got together. When you agreed to be with me, you didn’t know about the depression or the meds or the side effects. And if it’s too much, I’ll understand.”

Tommy blinked at him, an expression of incredulous indignation on his face. “Are you serious?”

“It’s been too much before,” Chuck replied, thinking of breakups and slammed doors and the inevitable fallout from being a broken man.

The couch dipped as Tommy shifted closer, and Chuck saw the look of complete devastation written on his face in the wake of Chuck’s words. “Chuck,” Tommy said, bringing his hand up to cradle Chuck’s face. “I’m here, baby. I’m here, I’m yours, and I’m not going anywhere unless you ask me to.”

Chuck felt his lower lip tremble. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure, you stubborn ginger snap.”

Chuck smiled then, and while he was sure it was merely a shadow of the expression normally associated with the feeling of happiness, he clung to the fact that it was something. Something more than okay. Maybe even something good.

“It’s pretty late,” Tommy went on, softly stroking Chuck’s cheek with his thumb. “Do you want to head to bed or stay up awhile?”

“Bed.”

“Go on, then.” Tommy offered him a small smile. “I’ll get everything cleaned up.”

Chuck stood, shaking the stiffness from his cramped legs. “I…” he started hesitantly, “I think I want to sleep alone tonight.”

He watched Tommy’s face carefully, bracing himself for the hurt caused by his words, but Tommy just nodded, his expression understanding. “Sounds good. I’ll come check on you in the morning.”

Chuck stood there, frozen, not entirely sure what he was supposed to do next. Tommy stood beside him, watching him like he wasn’t sure either. Like he wanted to touch him but didn’t know if he could.

“I’m not going to be a very good boyfriend while I’m figuring this out,” Chuck whispered, trying for an apologetic smile. “I’m not going to have much to give.”

Tommy nodded, his eyes intent as he looked at Chuck. “That’s okay.”

Chuck didn’t know what to say. It didn’t make sense— how could someone be okay with being in a relationship with someone who had nothing to give them? Someone who was so fucking empty they could barely find anything to give to themself?

“Can I give you a hug?”

Tommy stood there with his arms wide open, and Chuck decided to trust that Tommy knew himself and his own needs. Regardless of his own doubts, Tommy was there, and when Tommy wrapped his arms around him, and Chuck dropped his forehead to rest on his hard shoulder, he was exactly the kind of warm and steady Chuck needed.

Soft lips pressed to the side of Chuck’s face. “I’m here,” Tommy whispered, the words a promise. “I’m here.”