Warmth poured over my face as light filtered into the room, the sheets were cool against my damp skin, a weight fell over my chest, gripping me tightly. Nick's arm. He was cuddling me. Entangled in his grasp I tried my best not to wake him, as I reached for my phone. School started in less than an hour. I'd have to wake him soon if we wanted to get there on time.

Shifting back over, I felt him adjust on top of me. Stopping abruptly, I held myself in place. All of my oxygen suspended in my lungs as I tried desperately to maintain his slumber. Failing miserably, as I heard him mumble, "What time is it?"

I let out a small exhale before responding; my body still tense from his touch, "Six," I said gently.

"Already?" I hear him groan.

"Yeah, we should really get up," I say scooting over from him.

"No," He says groggily, still clearly under the influence.

"Nick," I sigh, "We've got to," I say, brushing a hand through his hair gently.

"No," He says again, his voice half joking, half serious. Taking his free hand within mine, he interlocks our fingers. "Stay," He says, just above a whisper.

My body relaxes under him. I give in, "Alright,"

"Yay!" He cheers cutely.

"Yeah, yeah," I shift in my spot. "Let me get you some pain medicine," I say rubbing his shoulder.

"Thank you," He blushes softly.

I walk down from my bedroom and into the kitchen

- Nick's POV -

A sharp pain in my head, I turn away from the light of the window, rolling over towards Charlie's night stand. He was so kind last night; taking me in. I nearly forgot to thank him, but I planned on doing so, profusely. I still hated the rumors that continued to spread. It was killing me and I knew it affected him deeply.

Trying to wake up a little more, I sat upright in my spot, rubbing the exhaustion from my eyes. My eyelids fell heavily, but sprung open as I spotted something on Charlies nightstand. The drawer was partially cracked open, revealing his diary. We'd talked about it before, he'd even read me a few pages during times of distress. He wrote about everything. It wasn't mine to see. My hand itched towards the leather bound pages. He had to have written about the rumors.

I knew I shouldn't have, but I caved. Checking the door for any sound of him, I snatched up the notebook and flipped to the center. His most recent entry was marked with a thin strip of ribbon, I flipped it over, letting it hang of the spine and examined the dates.

There had been nearly twenty entries since the morning he'd kicked me out of his house. Nearly double the amount I'd seen in here before. I couldn't imagine how stressed he's been, worried about us. The thought gnawed at the back of my brain, but I didn't have time to ponder it. I had to make a choice. If Charlie didn't trust me he wasn't going to come to me with any of this, he'd feel like a burden, despite my insistence that I loved to listen to him. I did the only thing I could think of.

I took a picture. Make that twenty. It felt sinful and invasive, but I had to fix this. Maybe it was foolish but this was the only way I saw how.

A low pitter-patter could be heard from the hallway, as Charlie ascended the staircase. Rubbish, I thought, stuffing the journal back into place quickly, before rolling back over.

"C'mon sleepy head," I hear him say from above me. I smile, taking the glass and medicine gratefully.

"Thank you again," I say, gulping it down. There's a long moment of silence before either one of speak, the only sound; a gentle breeze.

"Do you maybe want to just stay in today?" He asks quickly. "You don't have to say yes obviously, I was just thinking-"

"Yes," I say, cutting him off.

"Oh," He startles. "Okay then," He gives in with a smile. Crawling into bed next to me, we both sit up straighter. Another pause.

"Mario kart?" We ask in unison. I laugh and nod as he begins to text the group.

"Guess we're not going to school," He muses.

"No more worrying about failing," I chuckle.

"Oh no," He retorts with a smirk, "You're getting absolutely schooled,"

"Yeah right!" I fire back, snatching up a controller.

"It's on," He says determinedly.

He starts up the game, turning on the console. His attention's on the TV but I let my eyes linger a little longer on his face. The soft, rosy cheeks, that had likely been soaked in tears just nights before. Because of me. Those gentle eyes, once red from irritation. It hurt my heart.

I'll fix this Char, I have to.