NINETEENTH
CHARLIE
School has been an absolute nightmare lately. Between the endless assignments, looming exams, and trying to maintain some semblance of a social life, I feel like I'm drowning. Every day feels like a race against the clock, and the stress is starting to get to me. But at least Christmas is coming. The thought of a break, a time to relax and celebrate, keeps me going. Also, I am taking my Master's now. It's been almost two years since I graduated with my Bachelor's degree. I can say that I changed so much. I don't know if it's for the better, but yeah, I became more... matured. I guess?
Jack has been seeing a therapist regularly now. We've found a support group, and Eddie and I have been taking turns accompanying him to sessions, making sure he knows we're there for him. On the surface, everything seems to be getting better. Jack's medication has been adjusted, and he's been more diligent about taking it. His therapist seems hopeful, and Jack talks about the progress he's making, the tools he's learning to manage his depression.
As Christmas approaches, the festive spirit starts to seep into our lives. Jack and I decide to celebrate together. We put up a small tree in our apartment, stringing lights and hanging ornaments with a mix of nostalgia and hope. The act of decorating, of bringing some light into our home, feels like a small victory.
"Remember this one?" Jack holds up a worn, handmade ornament. It's a little crooked, painted in bright colors that have faded over the years.
I smile, taking it from his hands. "Yeah, we made that in our first year together. I can't believe we still have it."
He chuckles, a soft sound that warms my heart. "It’s a survivor, just like us."
We hang the ornament together, and for a moment, the weight of everything feels lighter. We laugh, reminiscing about past Christmases, about the silly traditions we've created over the years. It feels good, normal, as if we're reclaiming a piece of our lives that had been overshadowed by his struggles.
On Christmas Eve, we have a quiet dinner at home. Eddie is spending the evening with his family, so it’s just Jack and me. The apartment is warm, filled with the smell of roasted chicken and the soft glow of Christmas lights. We eat by candlelight, sharing stories and trying to focus on the positive.
"Do you remember the first Christmas we spent together?" I ask, sipping my wine.
Jack smiles, a genuine smile that reaches his eyes. "How could I forget? You burned the cookies, and we had to order takeout."
I laugh, the memory bringing a warmth to my heart. "Yeah, I was so embarrassed. But you made it perfect anyway."
"You've always had a way of making things special, Charlie," he says softly, reaching across the table to take my hand.
After dinner, we sit on the couch, the Christmas tree twinkling beside us. Jack seems more at ease, his guard down for the first time in a while. We exchange gifts, simple tokens of our love and appreciation for each other. I give him a cozy sweater, and he gives me a beautiful necklace with a small, delicate pendant.
"It's perfect," I whisper, tears of joy in my eyes.
"I’m glad you like it," he replies, his voice filled with emotion.
We sit in comfortable silence for a while, the only sound the crackling of the fire in the hearth. Outside, snow begins to fall, blanketing the world in a peaceful stillness.
Suddenly, a familiar song drifts through the open window, the melody sweet and haunting. It's "Unchained Melody," one of our favorite songs.
Jack stands up, holding out his hand to me. "Dance with me?"
I nod, taking his hand as he pulls me to my feet. He wraps his arms around me, and we sway gently to the music, the world outside forgotten. His touch is warm and reassuring, his heartbeat steady against mine.
As the music envelops us, Jack lifts me slightly off the ground, spinning me around the small living room. We laugh, the sound mingling with the melody, creating a perfect harmony. In that moment, everything feels right, as if the weight of the past months has lifted, leaving only the pure, unadulterated joy of being together.
The song ends, and we stand there, holding each other, the silence filled with unspoken promises and dreams. Jack leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead.
"I love you, Charlie," he whispers, his voice filled with a raw honesty that takes my breath away.
"I love you too, Jack," I reply, my heart swelling with emotion.
We settle back on the couch, wrapped in each other's arms. The night is peaceful, the world outside our little sanctuary a distant memory. But as the days pass, I start to notice subtle changes in Jack. At first, it's just little things: a forced smile here, a distant look there. He becomes quieter, his laughter less frequent. The sparkle in his eyes, the one that had started to return, begins to fade.
One evening, as we're sitting on the couch, I glance over at him and my heart sinks. He's staring at the Christmas tree, but his eyes are vacant, lost in some far-off place. I reach out, taking his hand in mine.
"Jack, are you okay?" I ask, my voice soft, trying not to alarm him.
He turns to me, a small, strained smile on his lips. "Yeah, I'm fine, Charlie. Just tired."
But I know he's not fine. I can see it in the way he moves, in the way he withdraws into himself. The therapy, the support groups—they were supposed to help. And maybe they are, but it's clear that something's not right.
The final straw comes a few days later. We’re at a small get-together with friends, celebrating the end of the semester and the holiday season. Jack tries to engage, to be part of the conversation, but I can see the effort it takes. His smiles don't reach his eyes, and he seems to be constantly on the verge of tears.
On the way home, I can't hold back any longer. "Jack, please talk to me. I know something's wrong. You're not yourself."
He sighs, running a hand through his hair. "I'm trying, Charlie. I really am. But it's hard. Harder than I thought it would be."
"Is the therapy helping? Are the meds working?" I ask, desperate for answers.
"They help," he admits. "But it feels like I'm just... treading water. Like I'm trying to stay afloat, but the current is too strong."
I feel a lump form in my throat. "What can I do, Jack? How can I help?"
He looks at me, his eyes filled with a deep sadness that breaks my heart. "Just be here. I don't want to drag you down with me, but knowing you're here... it helps."
I nod, tears welling up in my eyes. "I'm not going anywhere, Jack. We'll get through this. Together."
As we reach home, we sit in the living room, the Christmas lights casting a soft glow around us. Jack leans against me, and I hold him, feeling the weight of his struggle, the burden he carries. The festive decorations, the memories of happier times—they all seem like a cruel reminder of what we're fighting to reclaim.
Days turn into weeks, and the festive season passes. Jack's condition fluctuates, some days better than others. The support is there, the therapy continues, but the battle is far from over. And in his eyes, I see a pain that no amount of medication or therapy can fully erase.
One night, as we're lying in bed, Jack turns to me. "Charlie, I don't want you to feel like you have to save me. This is my fight."
I shake my head, tears spilling down my cheeks. "We're in this together, Jack. Your fight is my fight. And I'll be here, every step of the way."
He reaches out, wiping away my tears. "I love you, Charlie. More than you'll ever know."
"I love you too," I whisper, my voice choked with emotion. "And we'll get through this. One day at a time."
As I hold him close, I realize that this journey is far from over. There will be more challenges, more moments of doubt and despair. But there will also be moments of hope, of love, and of strength. And together, we'll face whatever comes our way, holding onto the belief that brighter days are ahead.
The first light of dawn begins to filter into the room, casting a soft glow over us. We lay there, wrapped in each other's arms, holding onto the fragile promise of a new beginning. The warmth of his body against mine, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, it all brings a sense of calm that had eluded me for weeks.
Jack's hand moves gently over my back, a soothing motion that speaks of his need for connection and reassurance. "I was so scared," he admits softly, his voice breaking the silence. "Scared you'd think less of me if you knew how bad it was."
"Jack, you have to know that's not true," I reply, my voice filled with a fierce conviction. "I could never think less of you. If anything, knowing what you've been through makes me love you even more."
He sighs, a deep, shuddering breath that seems to release some of the tension he'd been holding. "It's hard, Charlie. Sometimes it feels like I'm drowning, and I can't see a way out."
I hold him tighter, my heart aching for the pain he has been carrying alone. "You're not alone, Jack. You have me, and you have Eddie. We're here for you, every step of the way."
His eyes meet mine, and in that moment, I see the depth of his struggle, but also a flicker of hope. "Thank you," he whispers, his voice thick
with emotion. "I don't know what I'd do without you."
"We're a team," I remind him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. "And we're going to get through this. One day at a time."
His eyes bore into mine, filled with a mix of anguish and doubt. "I don't know if I regret it," he whispers, his voice trembling. "But maybe I shouldn't have told you who I was from the start. Then you wouldn't be suffering like this."
A lump forms in my throat as his words hang heavy in the air. The dawn continues to break, casting a gentle light over us, promising a new beginning. I hold him tighter, feeling his heart beat against mine, a reminder of the life and love we share.
"Jack," I say, my voice breaking, "your honesty brought us closer. I would rather face this struggle with you than live in ignorance. We are stronger together, and your pain is my pain. We are a team, and that means facing everything side by side."
He closes his eyes, tears escaping down his cheeks, and I brush them away gently. "I'm sorry," he murmurs, his voice barely audible. "I never wanted to hurt you."
"You haven't," I reassure him, my heart aching. "Loving you, being with you, is worth every challenge. We will face whatever comes our way together."
I look into his eyes, seeing the pain but also the flicker of hope, and I know that no matter what, we will find our way. "We'll make it through," I whisper, kissing him softly. "I promise."
Wrapped in each other's arms, we hold onto that promise, vowing to stand by each other no matter what the future holds. And in that moment, the world outside fades away, leaving only the strength of our love and the unspoken promise of tomorrow.
*****