𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚞𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚝𝚜

need to clear my head and get out of the city [n.c]

some slimebox, dedicated to -faithers-!! it's rather short but burnout is a bitch. i have a tonne of other things i'm currently working on/planning, but i might not have them out since irl school starts up on the 24th.

prompt; charlie is struggling and no one seems to notice, except for noah.

final word count; 1.3k

lyric from locket - crumb.

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something’s off with charlie, noah knows this.

he may not be the most perceptive of people, he might not be able to read people as well as ted or travis, but he knows things, and he notices things easier than other people do.

he often finds charlie staring off into space, trailing off in the middle of saying something when someone else starts talking louder. charlie’s stopped making puns, stopped joking, stopped talking as loud as he usually does, he’s even stopped playing games and recording with them. he’s stopped… being charlie. everything that makes charlie charlie is gone, erased from charlie’s brain, and it hurts noah, it hurts him so much to see the other man like this, it’s painful seeing the half-dead look in charlie’s eyes, complete with the ever-growing eyebags that signify sleep doesn’t come easy to him.

unfortunately, every single fucking time noah tries to talk to him, to ask him what’s wrong, he changes the subject, the fakest smile noah’s ever seen making its way onto his face, onto the husk of what used to be charles dalgliesh.

it’s even more irritating when you realise no one else notices. charlie has always been a good actor, too good, no one even suspects a thing when he’s around them, and charlie only drops his stupid fucking façade when he thinks no one’s looking. the light that previously permanently resided in charlie’s eyes has been snuffed out. he is empty, hollow, he feels nothing, and no one even knows what he’s going through, no one except for noah has bothered asking what’s wrong with him. no one except for noah seems to care.

and that’s precisely why noah is standing at charlie’s front door, hand raised anxiously, balled into a fist and resting gently against the door. it’s late, – eleven at night, if noah remembers correctly – he’s just tired of seeing charlie like this. he wants- he wants the man he fell in love with back.

that’s right. noah’s completely fucking balls deep in the shitshow that’s love, baby. he fell hard, too fucking hard, and now that charlie’s- like this, to put it simply, noah can’t focus on anything other than bringing a real, genuine smile to his face.

surely, he needs to stop stalling. he knocks on the door, once, twice, thrice, steps back and shoves his hands in his pockets. the cool september breeze flows through the air, brushing across his face, and he huffs, pushing his hair back. he wonders if charlie will even bother answering the door, if he’s going to ignore it and just go back to sleep (or doing whatever the fuck he’s doing).

the shuffling of feet on the other side of the door grows louder, the lock clicking and the screech of the doorknob turning brings noah back to what’s currently going down in front of him. the door swings open and charlie’s there, squinting questioningly at noah behind his glasses.

“noah? what’re-” charlie’s voice breaks and he coughs to cover it up, wiping a hand over his face. “what’re you doing here?”

“trying to find out what’s wrong. i’m here to help.” charlie stiffens for a split second, then he steps back reluctantly, letting noah step inside. he closes the door behind him, waits until charlie moves further into his abode to follow him. before he knows it, they’re both settled in charlie’s bedroom, a lamp is clicked on and charlie is back underneath his blanket, though he’s sitting up and wrapping it around himself, leaning against the wall. noah sees the way his cheekbones are sunken in, the way the bags under his eyes are dark and deep, the way his hair and face are greasy, and noah knows is way worse than he'd thought. “are you- are you feeling alright?” he asks, and charlie chuckles, though it holds no humour.

“not really, if i’m being honest.” noah waits for him to elaborate, to explain the feelings he’s been withholding from everyone else, and it’s a few moments until the older speaks up. “it’s been- it’s been a rough couple of weeks. i’ve been, uhm. having nightmares and shit? and they’re about- about you guys, you guys getting hurt and,” charlie swallows, breathes out shakily and looks away from noah, “killed, a- and i’m always the one that’s hurting or killing you and i- i don’t ever want to-” he bites back a sob, averts his gaze to his blankets, shoulders shaking. “i haven’t been eating well either, and i just feel so pathetic and annoying and i feel like i'm self-obsessed and not worthy of people's respect and i'm just. starting to think that maybe i’d be better off dead. no one would- no one would care, right?"

the silence after charlie stops speaking is deafening. noah wants to say something, he does, but he can't find the words to. he takes a moment to just think, compiling everything he's going to say. it wouldn't matter now, if he were going to start talking, though, because the other brunet begins talking again, voice shaking with the effort to hold back tears.

"and i can't handle the fact that i'm genuinely such a burden on you guys and that you all fucking hate me and-"

"that's not even remotely true." noah cuts him off suddenly, sitting up straighter. he leans over, quivering hands gently cupping charlie's cheeks, thumbs brushing away salty tears escaping from the other's eyes. "we all love you, charlie, you and your silly puns and your sense of humour and the way you always care about everyone you meet, how you get so invested into a character and how you can come up with rhymes on the spot, how you just brighten up every single room you walk into, surely. we don't hate you, charles. i- fuck, i would have to search deep to find anything i could ever hate about you, if there is anything. and yes, you have your flaws, but doesn't everyone? i don't want you dead, charlie," his voice breaks, but he continues, "i need you alive. i need you and your bright eyes and your sparkling personality and just- all of you. i need it. if you died, i don't- i don't know what i'd fucking do. you're worthy of everything, and i would give you everything if i were able to." 

charlie audibly sobs then, hiding his face in noah's hand and coughing softly. "noah," he chokes out, "thank you so much, i- i fucking- i love you too, and i just- i'm sorry i never told you about everything, i thought i'd get over it, thought i'd be over it by now, but i guess i'm just- just not."

“and that’s ok, charlie, it’s ok to not be ok.” he cards a hand through charlie’s hair, “just- promise me you’ll say something before it gets to be this bad. i want to help you, and i can’t if i don’t know what’s wrong, yeah?” charlie lets out a watery chuckle, shifts and buries his face into noah’s neck, nodding. “and i love you so much, you know that? we all love you, dude, we care about you so much.”

“thank you, noah.” the older murmurs, eyes slipping closed, and noah smiles, gently holds him whilst he rests. his breathing evens out within a few moments, the exhaustion that’s been drowning him finally overcoming his body. noah is glad he’s sleeping, glad the worry has slipped from his face, glad that he feels safe enough to fall asleep with noah.

noah gently presses his lips to charlie’s forehead, making a silent vow to keep the other safe. it’s a vow he intends to keep.