Nick sat in the waiting room of the therapist’s office every Tuesday for six months, doing his homework, waiting for Charlie to come out. He never complained. He never made it about himself.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, so only Charlie could hear. “I love you.” Nick and Charlie
“Hey, Char?” Nick mumbled, not opening his eyes. Nick sat in the waiting room of the
Nick smiled, a slow, contented curve of his lips, and snuggled deeper into Charlie’s lap. Outside, the city hummed. Inside, there was only the soft sound of breathing, the turning of a page, and the space between two heartbeats—a space that had once been filled with fear and doubt, and was now filled, entirely and irrevocably, with the simple, profound quiet of home . doing his homework