It read: Charlie,
Charlie laughed, a wet, broken sound. “You’re an idiot.” Nick and Charlie
The second crack was deeper. Nick started cancelling plans. He’d say he had practice, then Charlie would see him walking home alone, shoulders hunched. He’d pull away from kisses in the music block, citing a teacher walking by. Charlie began to feel like a ghost haunting his own relationship. The old thoughts crept back—the ones that whispered You’re too much. You’re too needy. You’re a burden. It read: Charlie, Charlie laughed, a wet, broken sound
He turned and walked away. Charlie watched him go, the rain plastering his curls to his forehead, and felt the distinct, sharp snap of his own heart breaking. He’d say he had practice, then Charlie would
Yours (if you’ll still have me), Nick Charlie read the letter three times. The first time, his hands shook. The second, he cried. The third, a small, fragile smile cracked the numbness.