I never celebrated New Year's – I never had anyone to celebrate with – and I wasn't surprised that Carlisle didn't want to go out with his friends either. He was quite subdued, trying to force happiness but unable to. We stayed home on New Year's Eve, eating pizza and chocolate and whatever other treats I could coax between my boyfriend's lips. In a last-ditch effort to make him smile, I forced him to tell me his favourite movie, and then tracked it down online. We ended up watching 'The Shining', and I hated it from the moment the opening credits flashed across the screen. It helped having Carlisle cuddled up against my side, though, a blanket wrapped around both of us.

"You okay?" I asked quietly, gently running my fingers through his hair while he lay with his head in my lap. We'd been invited out for drinks with Alistair and company, and I knew Carlisle felt pretty shitty about turning him down again.

He nodded slowly, leaning back against me. "Yeah…thank you for staying home with me…"

"Where else do you think I'd go?" I teased softly. "They're you're friends, not mine. I only get to go because you're so clingy." Shuffling under him, I moved until I was flat on my back, keeping him tightly tucked against me. Holding him like that felt different than it used to; I was sure I could have broken him if I'd used too much pressure, he felt so fragile.

The quiet laugh my observation provoked lifted a weight off my chest, though, and I smiled as his lips gently brushed mine, the shy form of a kiss. "Please, you've barely let me out of your sight since I've come home."

I squeezed his waist. "I'll feel better when you are happier." My fingertips slipped under his t-shirt, teasing the small of his back as he wrapped his arms around my waist. Out the window, fireworks lit the sky, marking the new year rolling in. The movie was momentarily forgotten as we refocused our attention on them. "Should we go out and watch?" I asked carefully, noting his interest. Him having an interest in anything lately was a miracle.

Hesitating, he glanced up at me. "You want to go for a walk?"

"Yeah; they'll be clearer on the street." I sat up, hurrying down the hallway to grab our jackets before they were over. Carlisle had managed to put his shoes on by the time I got back, and I quickly did the same as he pulled on the extra clothing. Within a minute, we were running down the apartment stairs to get outside.

I slipped on the icy path as we hit the concrete, laughing as he grabbed my arm to steady me. He knotted our fingers together, keeping hold of my hand as we walked slowly toward town. The streets flashed with bright lights during each burst of colour, and it threw dark shadows behind us.

"…pretty…"

"They do this in London, don't they?"

"Sometimes. I used to watch it there too." He stepped closer so that our arms brushed as we walked, leaning his head against my shoulder when we stopped at the end of the street. We had a fairly clear view of everything through a break in the buildings, though the peace was somewhat disturbed by near-by party goers stumbling home from a gathering. "It's not quite as romantic by yourself, though."

I chuckled, wrapping my arm around his waist. "I know; this is the first time I've ever really spent new years with anyone, let alone someone that I love." Giving him a gentle squeeze, I leaned down to kiss him. His fingers knotted in my hair, deepening it.

Unfortunately, it was only a few minutes before the cold started getting to him; he wasn't able to combat the drop in temperature in his current state. He was cuddling into my side in search of heat, and was starting to shiver a little bit. I wrapped my jacket around him, pulling him in to a tight hug.

"Home before you freeze."

.

.

Carlisle had to work today, and it was killing both of us. It was his first day behind the counter in over a month, and dealing with a hoard of rude vacationers wasn't really ideal. I just hoped they were nice to him. Before even leaving, he was anxious and not feeling the best, only managing a few sips of coffee and a couple of mouthfuls of cereal for breakfast.

"It'll be okay," I tried to assure him, not quite believing it myself as I rubbed his hand. I knew he wasn't ready to go back yet; fuck, he was still unsettled by me leaving him at home by himself all day.

"I know," he answered unsurely, trying to force a smile as our eyes met.

"And if anything goes wrong, call me and I'll come and get you," I promised.

All too soon, he was hugging me goodbye, departing with a nervous kiss. I wasn't going to be getting any work done today; I was nervous on his behalf. Getting less than three hours sleep was bad for anyone, let alone someone who was already emotionally unbalanced. I was sure I was going to be picking up pieces when he got home tonight.

I kept my phone firmly in my pocket all day, thoroughly expecting to have to quit half way through to bail my boyfriend out. It stayed silent, though, and it created both a sense of relief and heightened my nerves. I was so antsy by the end of the day, I decided to pick him up rather than wait for him at home.

The doorbell rang as I pushed through the door of the bookshop, and Carlisle winced without glancing over to see who it was. He had a small line of customers in front of him, and having another obviously wasn't something he was thrilled about. For old times' sake, I picked up a newspaper and joined the line.

I smiled at him when he glanced up and our eyes met, and he tried to mirror the gesture as a look of relief flashed across his face. "Ready to go home?" I asked as I finally reached the counter and was the last 'customer'. Dropping the paper onto the countertop, I reached for his hand over the wood.

He nodded slowly, running his free hand through his hair to get it off his face. "Yeah…" I was suddenly really glad that I hadn't made him walk home; he looked exhausted. Not needing to be prompted again, he started shutting down the till. I pulled the open sign inside, locking the front door to try and cut down the amount of time it was until he could go home. There wasn't much else I could do to help; the rest of it required actual training. It only took Carlisle another few minutes to finish up though, and his hands were shaking as he hurried.

I hugged him as he came around the front of the counter, and he buried his face in my shoulder. "Do you want to stop and get something for dinner on the way home?"

"…I feel sick, Garrett…" he mumbled, wrapping his arms around my neck.

I sighed, but left it alone; there was no point in pushing it if it was only going to upset him. He was quiet on the short drive home, fighting falling asleep and unable to hold a conversation. I kept my hand on his leg, and he'd wrapped his fingers around mine. His hands were freezing, and there was no warmth soaking through his jeans like there should have been. He really needed a decent meal and a good sleep. "Did something happen?" I asked gently, squeezing his thigh.

"…no…I'm just really tired…" He tried to smile, but he couldn't quite manage it.

"Work wasn't too bad, though?"

"It was fine…happy to be going home, though…" Despite his words, he didn't look much happier to be in the front door, still holding my hand but watching the floor. We settled on left-overs from last night for dinner, and he picked at his food rather than eating it, but it was better than nothing.

.

.

Over the next few weeks, he was on a downward spiral. The first real red flag was a locked bathroom door. Carlisle had never locked me out before, and although he was within his rights to do it, I suddenly felt ill. I got changed and re-made the bed to pass the time until he was ready to face me again, forcing myself to settle and not wind him up anymore.

It wasn't long before he came to join me, immediately melting into my side and resting his head on my chest. I wasn't even sure if he knew he'd done it, but it still stung a little bit. He wasn't so cold now, which was a blessing, but he was pale and shaky, not looking very well.

"Are you sick?" I asked quietly, pressing my hand against it forehead. There was no fever, but it didn't bring me any comfort, only heightening my confusion.

He immediately shook his head.

"Carlisle," I warned, nudging him so that he sat up again.

"…Jet lag…" he mumbled, refusing eye contact and fidgeting.

I rejected the answer. "You've been home for weeks, it doesn't last that long. Don't lie to me."

"I don't know what else to tell you…"

"The truth," I prompted, reaching for his hand to interlace our fingers; I didn't want him to think that I was mad at him, however irritating his vagueness was.

My boyfriend just shrugged, his hold on my hand weak. "…I can't sleep, Garrett…"

I felt like we were going in circles. "I know, Carlisle, you also aren't eating." I pushed him back against the bed, gently pressing our lips together, kissing his neck when he turned his head away a little.

"That's not the issue-"

"It's an issue for me," I told him bluntly. "You need to eat a proper meal more urgently than you need to sleep. It's no wonder you're not feeling well." I was forced to let his hands go as he tried to jerk free, visibly upset with me now. Frowning as he curled up to get away from me, I brushed his hair back off his face as a safer option; he needed help and I couldn't give it to him.

.

.

I knew he didn't get to bed before four AM most nights, and at seven every morning I woke up with his body wrapped around mine, and I had to wake him up so I could get up to go to work. This forced him to get up too, despite only being down for less than three hours and it being his day off. He silently refused to stay in bed once he was alone, far too anxious and having panic attacks when he woke up if he did manage to drift off again.

I couldn't do it to him. Not this morning. Not if sleep was what he wanted so desperately. As soon as my alarm beeped at seven AM, I quickly shut it off, rubbing Carlisle's back to hold him against me when he tried to pull back, only half awake. "Stay, Carlisle, it's okay," I soothed, kissing the top of his head. "Go back to sleep."

It didn't take too much to relax him enough to fall asleep, and I quickly sent a message to my boss, telling him I was sick. I shuffled down the bed and settled the blankets over us again. It didn't take long for me to go back to sleep either.

At eleven o'clock, I slid out from under the blankets, going to make something to eat for both of us when he woke up. Carlisle managed to sleep for another few hours, eventually wandering out in search of me. I slowly wrapped my arms around him, kissing his forehead.

"…you stayed home with me…"

"Yeah, I didn't want to wake you up." Rubbing his shoulder, I felt him relax into me as he mumbled a thank you. "Sit down and have something to eat." I pulled out a chair to make him sit and started dishing up the food.

"…Garrett…" he pleaded.

"It has to happen," I reminded him. I sat across from him at the table, watching as he struggled to take a bite.

"I-I…I was never allowed to eat unless my father said I could, and…" Forcing a deep breath, he fought not to cry. My heart sank when I realised that he was asking me for permission.

"He doesn't have any influence over what you're allowed to do now." Reaching over, I squeezed his hand. "Eat your breakfast, Carlisle."

He nodded, taking a careful bite of it. It looked like it hurt to swallow, and I hoped he wouldn't vomit. That was the last thing we needed. Panicking, he fought to take deep breaths, fighting a meltdown. Again, he only managed a few small mouthfuls before putting his fork down.

I watched as what little colour was left in his face drained, reaching across the table to squeeze his shoulder and get him to look at me. "Are you going to be sick?" I asked softly, brushing my thumb over his cheek. "Carlisle?"

"…n-no…" he mumbled uncomfortably, too scared to look up at me. It was anxiety driven, no doubt. He pushed the bowl back across the table so he didn't have to look at it, folding his arms against the table top and resting his forehead against them.

I didn't know what to do with him. I touched his leg under the table, and he apologised quietly. Acknowledging it seemed pointless, so I just shifted closer, wrapping my arms around him. "It'll be okay, Carlisle, we'll find a way to get you better," I promised, kissing his neck.

He leaned back against me, still very tired and a little upset now. "…I-I'm getting dizzy, Gar…" he mumbled. Turning to face me, he knotted his fingers in my shirt. I could hear the fear in his voice and he was hyperventilating.

I just hugged him, sighing as I realised we were going to have to wait out yet another panic attack.

.

.

Everything came to a head a few days later.

I was quite literally twiddling my thumbs at work, flicking paper clips at an old coffee mug as a form of amusement until the end of the day. I usually wouldn't have had my phone on my desk, unless I was on my lunch break, but I'd left it there today. My stomach dropped as Carlisle's number lit up my screen; he had no reason to be calling me in the middle of the day unless something had happened.

I answered it immediately, fleeing into the stairwell to try and gain a bit of privacy and attempt to avoid being caught by my manager. It was hard to calm down before I answered it, but it wouldn't help if I panicked before he did. "Hey, are you okay?" I almost rolled my eyes at myself; it wasn't much of a greeting when realistically he was probably fine. It wasn't like it was illegal for him to call me midday, so my panic was a little unwarranted really.

"Uh, Garrett, right?" a foreign voice asked carefully.

"…Yeah," I answered slowly, my pulse picking up as I went over every horrible scenario in which a stranger could need to have Carlisle's phone.

"I work with your boyfriend, but he's not feeling well and needs to go home. Is there any chance you can take him? I can't really leave the counter."

"Yeah- yeah, of course. Is he alright?" My heart was drumming in my ears as I headed back toward the office, bracing myself to face my boss. The woman's answer down the other end of the phone line was a little lost on me; I was too focused getting out of work for the rest of the day. Promising that I would be there soon, I hung up, bursting through my boss's office door.

He jumped at the sound, looking up at me with a scowl. "What, Parker? Did your mother not teach you to knock?"

I ignored him; I really wasn't in the mood for his bullshit right now. "I have to go home. My partner is sick, and he can't drive so I really need to take him go. I-"

He looked at his watch. We still had three hours left of work until home time. "Go, Garrett. Just make sure you've got that report in to me by Friday night."

That pulled me up short; he'd literally never been nice to me before. "…really?"

He nodded. "Yes. Go home and make sure your family is okay; it isn't like you'll do any work sitting here worrying anyway." Although he was grumbling, his out of character response to my demand lifted a weight off my chest. I wasn't actually doing any work anyway, but that wasn't the point.

I fled immediately, practically flying to my car. This wouldn't have been half as bad if it had been Carlisle who had called me, because at least then I would have been able to make sure he was alright, but having to take the word of the woman who I'd never met was killing me. Each red traffic light had me impatiently fidgeting in my seat. I comforted myself with the fact that he couldn't have seriously hurt himself, or they would have called an ambulance, not me.

The woman behind the counter offered me a warm smile as I came entered the bookshop. "I've seen you in here a few times," she chuckled. "That all makes sense now."

"Yeah…is Carlisle okay?" I asked, unable to help pushing. It was probably rude, but I didn't care at that point.

Her smile faded a little. "Take him home so he can get some rest. I think he needs to lie down for a while." She led me back into the staff room, and despite the situation, the thought of the two of us spending an evening eating pizza in here together all those months ago brought a smile to my face.

I thanked her and rushed to crouch in front of Carlisle. "Hey, are you alright? What happened?" Brushing my thumb over a graze on his cheek, I frowned. He was very, very pale and not really focusing on me.

"…w-why are you here?" he asked softly, closing his fingers around mine to get my hand away from his face.

"I called him, Carlisle," his co-worker told me. "You asked me to see if he could take you home, remember?" Seeing that he still looked confused, she turned to me. "Your boy fainted this afternoon, I think he hit his head on the way down," she explained. "I wouldn't be surprised if he's given himself a concussion."

"Thanks," I sighed, standing up and pulling him into a tight hug. He was aware enough to wrap his arms around my waist, tangling his fingers in my shirt. I leaned down to kiss him gently, rubbing his shoulder as he leaned against me. "Are you alright? You haven't hurt yourself?"

"I'm okay," he mumbled back. He sounded miserable, and I just wanted him home and in bed now.

"Let's go then. Tell me if you're going to pass out again." I kept my arm around his waist as he stood up, and he immediately stumbled into me, dizzy.

"Garrett…" he whispered, his knees buckling under him a little.

"You won't fall," I assured him, gripping his jacket to make sure. Parking the car as close as possible to the book shop had definitely been a good idea. It was purely to appease my laziness at the time, but by the looks of it, the chances of Carlisle being able to walk very far were slim. He was already unsteady and had barely made it to the door.

"Are you sure you don't want to go to the hospital, Carlisle?" the woman asked, watching the ordeal play out.

"…J-just need to go home, Sue…"

"I'll keep an eye on him," I promised, offering her a tight smile. The uneven cobbles on the path made keeping upright even harder, and Carlisle tripped and stumbled all the way to the car. I opened the passenger door and made him sit, letting him catch his breath while I stood in front of him to stop him falling. "Are you going to throw up? You're really pale."

He shook his head. "…just dizzy, Gar…"

Taking him to the emergency room really wasn't seeming like a bad idea, judging by the way he was going. "You need to see a doctor, Carlisle, this really isn't good," I murmured, kissing him again.

"…need to eat…" His breaths were coming in short, sharp gasps and he was trembling a little. He folded his arms against his knees, resting his head in his hands. "…God…"

Keeping my hands on his shoulders to stop him slipping, I stepped forward so he could lean against me. "Jesus, Carlisle…"

"…do you have to go back to work?" he asked anxiously.

"No, I've got the rest of the day off." After a few more minutes and him managing to put his seatbelt on, I got in the car and started home, keeping my hand on Carlisle's leg. His fingers stayed wrapped around mine, but his hold on me was weak. "We really need to sort this out; this can't go on any longer," I sighed.

"…I have to eat, but I feel so sick…" Suddenly fighting tears, he was already having a panic attack.

I squeezed his hands, running my thumb over the back of his fingers. "Let's just get you home first."

.

.

He managed to eat about half of what I put in front of him, but looked downright ill throughout the process. He didn't make it to bed, though, falling asleep on the couch as he lay with his head on my lap. I was half watching the TV, half watching Carlisle. Even unconscious, he was uneasy. It was frustrating; I was slowly watching him come undone, and I didn't know what to do about it.

I pressed my hand against his forehead, checking again that he didn't have a fever, and sighed heavily. He wasn't warm; this was self-induced. The curtains weren't shut properly, and I squinted into the light as it filtered through the small gap, hoping it wouldn't wake him up. Reaching over, I pulled one of the blankets we kept on the arm of the couch over him, rubbing his arm through the fabric. It made him fidget, but he didn't wake up.

Suddenly overwhelmed with a sense of sadness on his behalf, I slid out from under him so that I could lie down too. I wrapped my arms around him as I lay back, pulling him into me and locking him against my chest. I hadn't shut the fucking curtain, though, and it was shining directly on my face. Groaning, I hid my face in his shirt, kissing his neck when he stirred a little.

My boyfriend was more awake than I had given him credit for, clumsily rolling over to face me. "…what's wrong?" he asked softly.

I kissed him gently, sliding my hands down his back to squeeze him. "I'm just worried, Carlisle."

"About…?"

"You. What else have I got to worry about." My attempt at teasing didn't work very well; I couldn't keep my voice light enough.

"I'm scared," he admitted.

"So am I." Shifting again, I tried to get my hands under his clothing, wanting more contact with him. It made him want to be closer to me as well, burying his face in my shirt.

"…I can't do this anymore."

I hated seeing my usually bright boyfriend so hopeless, and I forced myself to ignore the burning behind my eyes. "You have to, Carlisle. It'll get better again." It felt like a fucking lie after all this time of telling him that.

"…I want to go see a doctor…?" He was quiet, suddenly tense like he was waiting for me to rebuke him. Despite it being his own idea, I could see it made him nervous and that he was uncomfortable with it.

I leaned forward to kiss him lightly. "If that's what you feel like you need to do, then yeah."

"…You're okay with it, though…?"

"Whatever you want to do, Carlisle, I'll support you."