Heartstopper: Volume Four

What's inside (8 sections)

1. Wanting to say it
2. Nick and the call he keeps putting off
3. When food becomes the hard part
4. Getting help
5. Summer into autumn and a dinner that hurts
6. How it looks, who surrounds them, and the show
7. Key takeaways
8. FAQ

I picked up Heartstopper: Volume Four expecting comfort. I had read the first three volumes back to back on a rainy weekend, and I loved how Alice Oseman, who writes and draws the whole series herself, lets small moments carry weight. A hand held under a table. A text answered fast. This fourth book is still about Nick Nelson and Charlie Spring, but it reads heavier from the first pages. It was published by Hodder Children's Books on 6 May 2021 as a 384 page graphic novel, collecting chapters five and six of the webcomic that started online. I finished it in one evening and went back through it slower the next morning.

Quick grounding helps if you have not read the earlier books. Charlie is gay and out at school, a year below Nick, gentle and quick to worry, still carrying bruises from bullying. Nick is bisexual, a rugby player with a big soft streak, out to his mum and close friends but not yet to his distant dad. They are boyfriends. Their circle includes Tao and Elle, plus Tara and Darcy, an out couple a little ahead of them. Teachers Mr Ajayi and Mr Farouk hover at the edges. Volume Three took them to Paris and left a thread hanging about Charlie skipping meals. Volume Four pulls that thread all the way.

Oseman opens in that warm place on purpose. Nick and Charlie are together and happy in the tactile way teens are happy. Cuddling on sofas. Falling asleep on calls. Charlie wants to tell Nick he loves him and keeps almost saying it, then swallowing it. Around them it is late spring into summer. Exams ease. Days get long. I liked how Oseman lets this part breathe. She gives them jokes and soft kisses. It makes what comes next land harder.

Wanting to say it

The early chapters circle around those three words. Charlie rehearses them in his head. He types them and deletes them. He looks at Nick across a lunch table and feels his chest go tight. Nick is not blind to it. He watches Charlie with open fondness and worries he is pushing too fast or not fast enough.

There is a run of scenes at Nick's house and Charlie's house that show how domestic they have become. Tea in kitchens. Dogs underfoot. Mums who know and make room. Nick's mum is steady and warm. Charlie's mum is loving but slower to see trouble. Both boys have learned which sofa cushions mean you are staying for dinner. Those details matter because Oseman draws home as safety. Blankets. Mugs. Phone chargers left in each other's rooms.

The love question ties into physical closeness too. They talk about what they want, what feels right, where to stop. Oseman keeps these talks plain and kind. They pause. They check. Nothing is framed as a big moral test. It is two boys learning how to be close without hurting each other. Charlie wants his first time saying he loves someone to feel true, not rushed because he is scared. I found those pages moving because they resist pressure. No grand speech on a beach. Just care in small panels.

Friends notice the shift. Tao sees Charlie glowing and relaxes a little. Elle teases them gently. Tara and Darcy offer the quiet confidence of people who remember this stage. Darcy is loud and funny about it. Tara watches for signs that Charlie might be struggling even while happy. That watching turns out to matter.

Nick and the call he keeps putting off

While Charlie wrestles with saying he loves Nick, Nick wrestles with telling his dad he is bisexual. His mum already knows and supports him. His friends know. Much of school knows or suspects. His dad lives apart, talks mostly about sport and results, and has a way of making feelings feel inconvenient.

Oseman draws this avoidance well. Nick stares at his phone. He opens his dad's contact and closes it. He mentions the idea to his mum and then backs off. He talks to Charlie late at night about whether it even matters, since he barely sees his dad. Charlie tells him it is his choice. Tara tells him the same. Still, Nick feels split. He wants to bring Charlie to family things without editing. He wants to stop bracing when his dad asks about girls.

The phone becomes a visual anchor for this worry. Oseman draws Nick's cracked screen more than once, a small damage that stays visible. It reads as a stand in for how Nick feels around his dad. Still working, still his, but with a fault line he cannot stop touching. Leaves and rain fill margins when moods dip. Little sparks appear when Nick and Charlie touch. Posture tells you plenty before dialogue does. Nick hunches when he thinks about his dad. Charlie curls inward when food comes up.

The call itself, when it comes, is not staged as a showdown. Nick goes to his dad's place. His older brother David is around, loud and dismissive. Nick says what he came to say. His dad responds with distance. He does not shout. He deflects and changes the subject back to safe ground. It leaves Nick replaying lines on the bus home, wondering if he said it wrong. He did not. Nick cries. Charlie holds him. Nick's mum speaks to her ex privately and makes her position clear.

I respected that choice. A screaming rejection would have been simpler to draw and easier to resolve. A shrug is harder to carry and harder to write well. Oseman writes it well.

When food becomes the hard part

The middle of the book turns toward Charlie's eating disorder and self harm, and the tone darkens in a way that surprised me even after the hints in Volume Three. Charlie starts skipping meals more often. He tells people he already ate. He cuts food into small pieces and moves it around. He counts and restricts and feels panic when plans change. He also harms himself in private and hides the marks.

Oseman does not draw this for shock. She draws routine. A skipped breakfast here. A lunch given away there. Hands that shake. A boy who is tired all the time and snaps at people who love him. Nick notices first in small ways. Charlie seems cold and dizzy. Tao notices too, though he misreads it at first as moodiness. Elle notices with growing alarm.

What makes these chapters painful is how logical Charlie's thinking sounds inside his head. Oseman gives us thought boxes that loop. If he eats less, he will feel more in control. If he feels more in control, the worry will quiet. Charlie believes he is protecting Nick by hiding it. In fact the hiding creates distance. Nick feels shut out and blames himself. He wonders if he did something wrong. That insecurity is drawn with care. He is sixteen and watching someone he loves go pale.

There are scenes at school lunches that stayed with me. Charlie sits with friends, jokes along, pushes pasta aside, says he had a big breakfast. Tao offers chips. Charlie declines. At home he tells his mum he ate at Nick's. At Nick's he says he ate at home. The lies stack. His sister Tori, who has always seen Charlie clearly, watches with narrowed eyes.

Oseman also shows self harm with restraint. She does not linger on method. She shows sleeves pulled down, quick glances at arms, a bathroom door locked a little too long. When Nick learns more, his reaction is fear mixed with love. He wants to help fast. He learns there is no fast fix.

If you have lived with an eating disorder near you, these pages may feel close. No tragic beauty filter. Just exhaustion, cold hands, bruises that last. The art helps. Charlie gets smaller in panels. Backgrounds empty out. Then a warm panel breaks through, Nick holding Charlie's hand in bed, both in hoodies, foreheads touching, and you remember what health could look like for them.

Getting help

Help arrives unevenly, which felt real. Nick tells an adult he trusts. Charlie's parents are brought in after a crisis makes hiding impossible. There are talks with a counsellor and a GP, discussions of referrals and support plans, mentions of waiting lists and next steps rather than instant cures. Charlie resists at first. He feels exposed and angry. He worries he is a burden. He worries Nick will leave.

Nick does not leave, but Oseman does not turn him into a saviour either. Nick learns to say what he can and cannot do. He can sit with Charlie during meals without policing every bite. He cannot be Charlie's treatment. Adults need to carry that part. Mr Ajayi steps forward here with quiet steadiness, checking in without prying. Mr Farouk backs him up.

This balance around support is one of the strongest parts of the book. Love helps, but love alone does not treat illness. Charlie needs professional help and family backing alongside Nick's loyalty. A parent sitting in on a meal. A friend who stops joking about diets.

Summer into autumn and a dinner that hurts

Time moves in this volume in a way the earlier books did not attempt. Summer fills many pages with heat and long evenings, then Oseman jumps forward by months into a new school year. Hair grows. Uniforms return. Tao and Elle shift. Tara and Darcy face their own pressures about future plans.

The jump matters because recovery is not linear. Charlie has better weeks and worse weeks. Some meals feel okay. Others feel impossible. Nick learns to read the signs without hovering. He also learns he has limits. He gets tired and scared. He leans on his mum and on friends.

The family dinner near the end brings many threads together. Nick brings Charlie to a meal that includes his dad and David, hoping honesty will make room. Instead the evening turns tense. David makes cutting remarks, the kind older brothers make when they want attention and know where it hurts. Their dad fails to step in with clarity. Nick tries to hold his ground while protecting Charlie, who is already anxious around food and scrutiny. Cutlery, serving dishes, questions about portions, all become loaded. Charlie tries to eat to keep the peace and feels panic rise. Nick watches his boyfriend shrink in a chair and his dad look away.

I found this sequence hard to read in the best way. Oseman stages it with tight panels, close on hands and plates, dialogue overlapping. You feel trapped at that table. No one throws a plate. The damage is quieter. A boy goes home hungry and shaky. Another boy goes home angry at his father in a way that settles into resolve.

Afterward the book slows down again. Apologies are made where they can be. Boundaries are drawn. Charlie's parents step closer. Nick's mum holds firm. The volume does not end with a cure. It ends with steadiness. Two boys learning how to love each other through illness, not around it.

How it looks, who surrounds them, and the show

I want to say more about the art because Oseman draws and writes, so story and image never split. Her line is loose and expressive. Faces do heavy lifting. Charlie's eyes go distant when he restricts. Nick's brows lift and pinch when worry spikes. Bodies tell stories too. Charlie hugs his knees, makes himself narrow on beds. Nick folds in when his dad calls. Hands recur constantly. Hands held, hands texting, hands pushing plates away. The cracked phone screen keeps showing up in Nick's palm. Rain and leaves drift through gutters when sadness pools. It is simple work that carries feeling without clutter.

The ensemble earns its pages. Tao starts the volume still guarding Charlie, still scared that couple life will take his friend. He learns to voice fear instead of snapping. Elle brings an outside eye. She sees Charlie fading before others admit it. Tara and Darcy show a more settled couple facing different questions about visibility, which gives Nick and Charlie a glimpse of what lasts beyond first love. Tori, Charlie's sister, has a few sharp lines that cut through denial.

Series arc matters here. Volume One was meet and spark. Volume Two was coming out and bullying. Volume Three was honesty on a trip. Volume Four is care under strain. Each book adds a layer without dropping earlier ones. The stakes widen from will they get together to how do they stay together when one of them is unwell. If you reread, you can see seeds for food worry as early as Volume Two in throwaway lunch jokes.

One short note on the screen version. The Netflix adaptation brought many new readers to these characters. The show covers much of this material but softens and reorders some beats for television pacing. The book remains the fuller record for interior life, because comics can sit inside a head in a way cameras struggle to match.

What bugged me, fairly. Pacing sags in the late summer stretch before the school return. A few party threads repeat the same reassurance without moving plot. David is written thin, more device than person. Readers new to comics may find the time jump confusing, since months pass in a few page turns. And this volume is not for everyone. If you want only light romance, the middle chapters will feel heavy. If you need full resolution on treatment, you will not get it here. Oseman chooses honesty over closure, which I respect even when it left me restless.

I closed the book thinking about that early wish to say he loves someone and how much harder those words feel once illness enters. Charlie does say it. Nick says it back. The words do not cure anything. They do make the next hard meal a little less lonely. Not a finish line. A hand staying on the table.

Teachers get the last word in a bonus sequence after the main story. Mr Ajayi and Mr Farouk share quiet scenes away from students, talking about care and their own lives. It is gentle and a little funny, and it reframes them from supervisors to people with worries of their own.

FAQ

Is Heartstopper: Volume Four part of a series?

Yes, it is book four in the Heartstopper series by Alice Oseman, collecting chapters five and six after Volume Three.

How does the book handle Charlie's eating disorder?

It shows skipped meals, lies about eating, and self harm without glamour. Nick offers steady presence while parents, teachers, and counsellors carry treatment.

How long is the book?

The Hodder Children's Books edition from 2021 has 384 pages and ISBN 9781444952797.