Page 85 of Poolside

“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, everyfuckingtime 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.

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