The Charm Offensive(55)
“Yes, it does,” she says, her words a quiet invitation for him to keep talking.
“I can’t explain it, but when I’m kissing Dev, I’m not in my head about it. I don’t feel the pressure to make it work. It just works. And I don’t have to force myself to feel anything. I feel everything.”
He stops himself and cuts his eyes to Parisa on the bench beside him. She’s making her soft, gooey face, and she reaches up to brush his hair off his forehead. He continues. “And I’ve got these eight women, who are actually all kind of spectacular, but I just don’t want to kiss any of them. And I signed a contract that requires me to propose to one of them at the end of this. And I’m stuck here on this show with Dev for another four weeks, and he doesn’t want me.” His voice cracks at the end, and he tries to disguise it as a cough.
Parisa doesn’t buy it. “And you asked him that? Directly? You asked Dev if he wants you, and he said no? Like, to your beautiful face?”
“Well, not exactly…”
“Has it occurred to you that Dev also had to sign a contract to work on this show, and that his legally precludes kissing you?”
“Uh…”
“That kissing you is probably going to get him fired from a job he loves so much?”
“I mean, I considered—”
“And don’t you think there is a good chance Dev’s current depression was triggered by the fact that he likes you, too, and that it’s literally his job to help you fall in love with someone else?”
“Dev doesn’t have depression,” he corrects.
“Take it from someone who has been in a committed relationship with Lexapro and cognitive behavioral therapy since she was eighteen,” Parisa says, “your handler is in the midst of a major depressive episode.”
Charlie shakes his head. She’s wrong. Dev doesn’t struggle with his mental health. Dev is Dev. He’s always happy, always smiling, always thinking about other people. He usually thrives on set, fluttering around to everyone, helping and chatting and feeding off the energy of it all. He’s the most charming person Charlie’s ever met. That’s not the description of a depressed person.
And yeah, maybe he loves Leland Barlow because he sings about mental illness, and maybe sometimes he gets sad—like after his fight with Ryan, or outside the club in New Orleans—but that’s not the same thing as being depressed. Just because he hasn’t been his usual Fun Dev self lately…
Charlie remembers what Dev said in the town car, about Ryan only ever wanting Fun Dev, and it hits him. “Oh, shit. Dev struggles with depression.”
Parisa claps him on the back. “Knew you’d get there eventually.”
* * *
He’s not entirely sure what you’re supposed to do when you discover your sort-of friend who you also like to kiss might have clinical depression, but he figures he could start by talking to Dev. Except when he and Parisa get back to set, Dev is nowhere to be found. Ryan informs him that Dev’s gone home sick with Jules. Charlie has to wait until they’re done filming for the day.
When they get back to the hotel, he goes straight to Dev’s room, where the “Do Not Disturb” sign hangs on the doorknob. Jules answers, looking her usual combination of annoyed and exhausted, with a twinge of sadness tucked away in the corners of her eyes. “He won’t talk to me about what’s wrong.”
“Let me try.”
He steps into the room alone. The air is stale and thick with the scent of unwashed things, and a kick of anxiety rockets through him at the filth. But then he sees Dev cocooned on the bed, the comforter sealed tight above his head, and he’s able to push aside those thoughts.
Charlie opens the window before he climbs onto the bed and tries to pull back the comforter. Dev stubbornly holds on tight, but Charlie’s stronger, and he yanks the blanket away from Dev’s face. The sight makes Charlie’s throat close up: unwashed hair, no glasses, curled up in a tight ball.
“Leave,” Dev grunts into his pillow.
“Tell me what you need.”
“I need you to leave.”
Part of him wants to. The more powerful part of him reaches out to push Dev’s hair off his forehead. “Please tell me what you need.”
Dev opens his eyes and looks up at Charlie. They’re the color of his perfect violin and filled with tears, and he’s the most beautiful person Charlie’s ever seen, even now. “I need you to leave. I… I don’t want you to see me like this.”
Charlie thinks about all the times he’s pushed someone away because he didn’t want them to see his anxiety and his obsessiveness, and he thinks about what he really wanted all those times people took him at his word. He climbs back onto the bed and reaches out for Dev. Dev pulls away, fights him off, eventually curls down against his chest, and holds on tight. Dev sinks deep into Charlie, crying into the folds of his oxford shirt. Charlie tries to hold Dev like Dev held him that night in the bathroom, carrying his weight.
Most of the time, Dev is like a human bonfire walking around generously warming everyone with his presence. But burning that bright and that fiercely must be exhausting; no one can sustain it forever. Charlie wishes he could tell Dev it’s okay to flicker out sometimes. It’s okay to tend to his own flame, to keep himself warm. He doesn’t have to be everything for everyone else all the time.