Archive of Our Own ^beta

As Nick wakes up, before he’s aware of anything else, his lips stretch up in a goofy grin. Like the trees behind the window on his train back home, his mind flashes with memories. Or are they dreams? His eyelids are still closed, but he can see dark curls between his fingers, twin dimples, and twinkling blue eyes brighter than a cloudless sky shining on a mirror. He is familiar with such visions. They come to him nearly every night. They usually leave him so sorrowful in the morning that he almost wishes they didn’t happen anymore. Almost.

Today, however, his smile doesn’t depart from his face for one second, even as his foggy mind tries to push away the branches of confusion from the path of his consciousness. Little by little, feelings resurface from the murky waters of inebriation. First, Nick remembers a hand. Long fingers grasping his hip, clinging so tightly he can still feel the burn of it if he focuses enough. Then, the distinctive smell of coconut, lips softer than a Persian rug, and the crook of a neck so perfect against his nose, it might have been carved around his own face.

Finally, the most exhilarating combination of words he’s ever heard, pronounced by the most heart-stopping boy he’s ever seen:

"I’ve liked you since I was fourteen, Nick."

With a jolt, he startles awake. Is this true? Does Charlie Spring, the boy he’s been pining for since year 11, really like him back? It can’t be. The miraculous sentence must be a remnant of a distant dream, one of many ridiculous fantasies he indulges in when his consciousness evades him. Usually, his imagination conjures up wild scenarios: Charlie crossing the uni library to grab his face and kiss him senseless; Charlie cheering him on during a rugby match and confessing his undying love from the grandstand; Charlie asleep in his bed, his nose burrowed in Nick’s neck, a serene smile on his face. And yet, the sensations have never been so realistic, nor strong, before. 

In an attempt to wake up properly, the blonde picks up his phone from his bedside table. His heart is hammering in his chest, and his hands slightly shake as he remembers the blue-eyed boy finally accepting his follow request on Instagram. If the notification isn’t there anymore when he opens the app, it’ll mean he imagined the whole thing. He’s not sure he’ll be able to cope with the disappointment, but he must know. Squinting his eyes against the bright screen, he eventually unlocks it.

There, over the cute photo of Nellie he took during the summer holiday, is something he never dared to imagine. His breathing stops abruptly. 

It’s a message from Charlie.

Charlie <3, 10:27

Good morning, Nick! Hope you didn’t catch a cold - you were bare-chested for a good portion of the night after all. As much as I liked it, I would hate for you to miss the date you invited me on ;)

On the pitch, Nick has been shaken many times over the years, but even the most violent of tackles didn’t wind him as much as this text. He didn’t imagine anything, then. The kiss, the declaration, the date... It was all real. He could honestly cry with relief. Now reassured, his brain finally allows him to recall last night’s events. Charlie yelled at Nick after he stupidly kissed him out of nowhere in a round of truth or dare, Nick explained himself, Charlie forgave him, they confessed their crush on each other, they kissed again, and Charlie agreed to go on a date with him. 

Then, Sai interrupted them with an apologetic look, explaining that Christian, Nick’s roommate, was too drunk to remember where his keys were and needed to go back to their room as soon as possible. Sai’s girlfriend was an active member of the LGBT soc that organised the party, but Christian had no connection with it and crashed the gathering to drink free beer with his mates from rugby. His presence was tolerated, but letting him vomit all over the expensive-looking carpet in the living room would surely take it too far. 

At the time, Nick had been furious with Christian for interrupting his precious time with Charlie, but now, he’s weirdly relieved. Reading the younger man’s words in the unforgiving light of day is like waking up at the top of a mountain. The view is breathtaking, but one misstep and the fall would be fatal. Without a doubt, he would have made a fool of himself if he’d just stayed ten minutes longer. Charlie would’ve realised he’s just an uncultured lad who’s not worth his time. 

And yet, he agreed to go out with him.

As soon as the realisation hits him, a wave of anxiety overwhelms him and dunks his head underwater. In his brain, a voice that sounds like his own mumbles incoherently, so loud that his head feels too small to contain it all. The noise echoes off the walls of his psyche like the shells that jam between two blocks in the Super Mario Bros game he used to play on his Nintendo during long car journeys. Nevertheless, amidst all of the brouhaha, some thoughts emerge clearly.

He’s been crushing on me for four years without ever talking to me... What if he thinks I’m someone I’m not? What if he made up an image of me in his head, and I don't live up to his expectations in the end? Quelle idée brillante j’ai eue. Quel imbécile je suis de lui avoir proposé un date. What if he finds me boring after talking to me for more than five minutes? What if he’s only attracted to me in the dark? No, that’s dumb, he clearly said he’s liked me since school. Even worse, what if he only likes my looks? I fancy him way too much to have a strictly physical relationship with him, but I don’t think I could tell him no if he tried anything. 

A ping coming from his phone breaks him out of his frenzy. Before he can think about ignoring it for the sake of his poor heart, which is currently racing faster than Charles Leclerc’s Formula 1, his thumb is already unlocking it. 

Charlie <3, 10:29

I can’t wait, btw. We could meet at the library at 7 p.m. if that’s fine with you? Lmk❤️

Why can’t he be confident like Charlie? Just last night, he was convinced that Nick kissed him as a prank, and now, he’s flirting with him like crazy. All it took was a simple clarification and a makeout session. Not that Nick’s complaining, by the way. He’s got a whole vivarium wriggling in his tummy upon reading these messages. He just wishes he could be cool like that. But then again, Charlie could have anybody he’d like, so no wonder he’s not particularly stressed about it. 

Nick shakes himself up. Wallowing in self-pity won’t help him woo the boy he’s liked forever. He has to get ready. But first, answering Charlie’s texts. After a few minutes of pondering, his thumbs hesitantly hovering over his keyboard like a bird of prey, he comes up with something that somehow sounds both flirty and incredibly gauche.

Me, 10:33

Good morning, Charlie! 7 p.m. would be great. I was thinking Alfredo’s for dinner?

Also, no cold in sight. When I think about how last night ended, I feel a little hot, actually ;)

Even if the response hadn’t come immediately, Nick wouldn’t have missed it with how laser-focused he is on the screen.

Charlie <3, 10:33

Oh, do you, now? 🤭

Nick lets out a snort as his cheeks colour furiously. He certainly feels hot all over now. His poor attempt at flirting hadn’t been a total disaster, then. Well, at least Charlie was nice enough to go along with it. For a moment, he thinks this is it, they won’t talk anymore before the date. This wouldn’t be bad, per se, but he can’t help but feel disappointed at the idea. He could get used to waking up to a good morning message from Charlie every day, before exchanging flirty texts back and forth. Does this mean he won’t be able to keep the discussion going tonight?

Then, before he can think of anything to revive the conversation, dots appear on the screen, indicating that Charlie’s typing. They keep disappearing and coming back again as if he’s not sure if or how he should say it. 

Charlie <3, 10:36

Actually, could I maybe choose the restaurant? Sorry, I’m a little particular about food.

Crap, doesn’t he like Alfredo’s? Nick’s first reaction is to feel angry with himself. He was the one to ask Charlie on a date, and so far, he failed to send the first message and to suggest a restaurant to the younger boy’s liking. However, his instinct tells him not to make a fuss about it. Not everything has something to do with him. Maybe Charlie just feels more at ease in an environment he’s familiar with. Anyway, he doesn’t need to know the reasons. Charlie’s comfort is way more important to him than his ego.

Me, 10:37

Of course!! No sorries necessary :) 

What were you thinking?

Charlie offers to bring him to his favourite place in town, which serves typical Spanish dishes. Nick is more than happy to oblige. He’s more accustomed to French cuisine, but there are few foods that he doesn’t like, so he figures he’ll be alright. He senses relief in Charlie’s grateful response, which proves that he’s not alone in this. They both like each other, and they’re both nervous about tonight, even if one of them hides it better than the other. It puts his mind at ease a little, and he suddenly has the urge to communicate his thankfulness to Charlie. 

Me, 10:49

Oh, and Charlie?

Charlie <3, 10:50

Yeah?

Me, 10:50

I can’t wait either :)❤️

Charlie <3, 10:51

❤️❤️❤️

***

When Nick finally emerges from his room, he’s met with the saddest vision ever known to man: Christian is sitting on a stool in the shared kitchen, head hung low and eyes as pinched as a miser’s purse. He weakly holds his left hand in front of him in a poor attempt to protect himself from the sun shining through the curtained windows and uses his right one to feed himself with difficulty. Still, it doesn’t stop him from commenting on Nick’s appearance, of all things.

"You look weird."

Nick lets out a snort.

"You’re one to talk." He bites back nonchalantly. "I’m surprised you’re already up. Couldn’t walk straight last night. I had to walk you home."

"Yeah, cheers by the way. I owe you one." He continues munching on his cereals for a while, his eyes trained on Nick’s movements. "I didn’t mean it like that, though. You’re smiling with your teeth. It’s weird, you never do that." Christian explains suspiciously as his roommate goes over to the cupboard and takes out the flour, the eggs and some brown sugar."

He’s craving chocolate chip cookies and he needs something to occupy his hands to prevent them from raking through his hair incessantly. He just came out of the shower and blow-dried his strawberry blond locks before adding some gel to get them to fall in a swoop on his forehead, just like an American model he saw on his Instagram feed. It’s not very different from his usual style, but it has more volume and some strands stand up in a messy way that screams more casual than he could ever pretend to be. Baking it is, then. 

"Am I not allowed to smile, now?!" Nick scoffs indignantly, his head burrowed in the shelves.

"Didn’t say that. Wow, now you’re getting out the baking supplies, too! What’s happening?"

"What do you mean, "what’s happening?"?! I’m making cookies, so what?"

Maybe this is due to his mildly panicked state, but Nick is beginning to get a bit frustrated with his friend. What’s his deal? Is he still drunk? The blonde turns around and starts dropping the ingredients on the countertops with more force than necessary.

"You only bake when you’re feeling anxious about something." Christian persists, scraping the last of the yoghurt from his bowl. 

The grating of the spoon against the ceramic makes Nick’s eye twitch. He can’t stand the sound of cutlery. It reminds him of awkward family dinners spent in silence. It reminds him of his dad, relying on the French news broadcast to fill the void left by his disinterest. Nick despises it. He shakes his head and answers anyway.

"That’s not true. I baked you a birthday cake last year, remember?"

"This is different." His friend counters. "It’s not someone’s birthday today, is it?"

The two friends stare at each other wordlessly. If Nick hated silence a little less, maybe he wouldn’t cave. But he doesn’t, and Christian knows he’s won.

"No, it’s not." He finally admits.

Well, shit. As oblivious as he may be, his roommate can be surprisingly perceptive sometimes. In fact, this isn’t the first time he’s proven to be observant in regards to Nick’s behaviour. Back in school, even before Nick had found a word to describe his sexuality, Christian as well as Sai and Otis noticed his interest in Charlie. It made telling them easier when he finally found the words. With a sigh, Nick exhales all his previous frustration with his friend. He’s lucky to have him.

"Do you know what I was doing before Sai got me to take you home?" He begins, resuming his recipe with ease.

"No. I can’t remember shit, to be honest."

"I was talking to Charlie."

Nick tries to act cool, but he’s developed a Pavlovian response to the younger man’s name, and the corner of his mouth goes up in an enamoured grin at the simple mention of it. Thankfully, Christian has gotten up to put his bowl in the dishwasher and he doesn’t clock it.

"Charlie… As in Charlie Spring?"

"Yeah, mate, Charlie Spring," Nick answers with a slightly breathless voice, still in awe of last night’s turn of events. 

Christian stops in his tracks and turns around to face him, a euphoric expression on his face.

"You finally talked to him!" He exclaims before giving an enthusiastic pat on the blonde’s arm. "Man, good for you, I thought you were going to pine in silence until the day you’d die! Did you make a move on him?"

"Yes. We kissed. Turns out he’s liked me since school, too. We’re going on a date tonight."

"No way! Get it, lad!!"

Nick leaves out the fact that he kissed Charlie despite himself in a chaotic game of truth or dare as well as the following half hour he spent being yelled at by the drummer. Christian doesn’t need to know that just yet. People will get details later if all goes well. God, he really hopes it'll go well.

"I get the smile, now." Christian goes on, collapsing on the couch, a hand still covering his eyes. Nick suspects it’s for show more than anything. He seemed fine a few minutes ago. Rugby lads can be such drama queens sometimes! "How come you’re so anxious, though? You say he likes you. That’s practically a sealed deal, then."

Nick lets out another sigh. He feels like one of those plastic balloons that take ages to deflate. He’s right to feel nervous, though, isn't he? He’s only made of air, his insides are hollow. He’s a popular guy of no substance, only powered by other people’s breath.

“I don’t know, mate. We don’t know each other very well. I’m definitely excited, but… I just really need it to go well. I’ve waited for this for a long time."

Sensing the seriousness in his friend’s voice, Christian lets his hand fall from his eyes and sits up to take a proper look at Nick. He studies him for a while, perhaps recalling all the times he gushed to their friend group about Charlie’s curls or dimples. Maybe he understands for the first time how deep his affection runs, and why Nick never accepted his numerous wingman offers.

"You truly like him a lot, don’t you?"

Nick’s cheeks burn, but he’s not ashamed. How could he? Only fools would be immune to Charlie’s charms. 

"Yeah, I do." He confirms in a steady voice.

It’s ridiculous how much, actually. Is he an idiot for falling this hard before he’s even gone on one date with the man? Probably. But who cares? This is one of the best feelings in the world. Charlie liking him back is the only thing that beats it.

"Aw, you should relax and try to enjoy the moment. Just be yourself, man. I’m sure it’ll be okay."

***

It’s just after 3 p.m. by the time the cookies are done. Nick wishes he’d done more batches. Now that he’s put on the outfit that he carefully laid out on his bed this morning, he still has two more hours to kill, and the anxious feeling in his rib cage is back. The commute to the library usually takes him twenty-five minutes max, but his bus could be late, or worse, he could miss it. Then, he’d have to walk all the way - which would take him around one hour - and he would arrive all sweaty at the meeting place. This would be a disaster. So, just in case, Nick plans on leaving his flat at 5 p.m., two hours before his date with Charlie.

He knows he should stop going in circles and try to study, for example, but he’s unable to focus on anything. How could he when he knows he’s going on a date with Charlie fucking Spring in just a few hours? The knots in his stomach are ribbon bows that only Charlie’s fingers can undo, and he won’t be able to relax until the night has successfully ended. Too much is at stake here.

Nick re-does his hair and fiddles with his black belt until he feels like it’s perfectly centred. For the hundredth time, he looks at his outfit in his bedroom mirror and wonders if he looks elegant enough. He’s wearing dark grey dress trousers and a black cotton sweater that hugs his chest just so. He doesn’t wear these clothes often as it’s not his usual style (he’s much more at ease in sweatpants and Adidas jumpers), but Tara assured him that they make him look smart when he bought them for a job interview last May. He didn’t get the job in the end, but he’s almost certain it wasn’t because of his outfit. He hopes it wasn’t, anyway.

He plops down on his bed with a sigh. Should he bring Charlie something? That’s what people do in movies, right? Flowers seem too cliché and inconvenient for a night out. Moreover, Nick has the feeling that his date prefers to choose what he eats, so bringing some of his cookies is out of the question too. Why does everything have to be so complicated? He forces himself to take a few deep breaths. He’s hardly ever been this stressed about something before, and he feels a little pathetic about it. He knows he’s not risking his life or anything, and yet… 

Suddenly, he has the urge to call his mum. He’s quick to repress it, though. Sarah knows all about his crush on the curly-haired boy and he’d rather die than have to admit to her that he’s screwed up his chances with Charlie if tonight doesn’t go as planned. He’ll wait until they’ve gone on a few more dates before bringing it up to her. Nonetheless, the thought of his mother being excited for him calms his nerves a little. His mind clears, and he’s finally able to think again. He’ll leave his flat two hours early and stop in the city centre to find a gift for the younger boy. 

Until then, he sits up against his headboard and unlocks his phone. He opens the Instagram app and clicks on Charlie’s profile. There, he finds endearing pictures of him with his friends Tao, Elle and Isaac. Nick recognises them from school, and the thought of them still hanging out in uni makes him smile. There’s also one or two with a reluctant-looking girl who has the same blue eyes and ebony hair as Charlie. Nobody’s tagged, but Nick guesses it’s his sister. According to one of Tao’s comments, her name is Tori. She’s really pretty, but she doesn’t radiate the same light that draws the blonde boy to her brother.

The most recent picture that he’s posted makes Nick’s heart stop. It’s a shot of Charlie drumming furiously on stage. His long curls are suspended in the air by the force of his head’s movement, creating a halo around his face that almost makes him look Christ-like. His eyes are closed and he looks lost in the music, alone in a universe in which he is the sun.

Il est absolument magnifique.

The sheen of sweat glowing on his neck is the last nail in Nick’s coffin. Without warning, an overwhelming desire washes through him, mixing violently with his nerves. He thinks that he might die if he doesn’t kiss Charlie again tonight.

When Nick finally looks up after having scrolled through every post, every caption, and every old story available on Charlie’s profile, it’s already 5:04 p.m.

"Oh, shit!"

***

Unsurprisingly, Nick ends up being early. And yet, when he walks towards the university library at 6:50 p.m. on the dot, Charlie’s already there. He’s standing with his legs crossed, his head bent over the phone in his hands. Nick silently thanks the universe. He always feels stupid when the people he’s meeting with see him come from afar and watch him slowly walk towards them. Nick’s also very flustered by how adorable Charlie looks right now. He’s wearing a blue chequered flannel shirt and black jeans that are ripped at the knees. His curls are as springy as ever, and Nick dreams about burrowing his hands in them again. Finally, Charlie has a ring on his right hand, which makes the older boy’s belly flutter for reasons he doesn’t want to examine too closely. 

Charlie lifts his head when Nick is eight feet away from him. Even if his face splits with a smile that makes his dimples pop out (oh, god), he looks kind of surprised. Whether it is to see him so early or to see him at all, Nick will never know.

"Hi!" Charlie says shyly.

"Hi!"

They’re now awkwardly standing, not sure how to greet each other. Nick desperately wants to kiss Charlie’s dimpled cheek, but he doesn’t want to make him uncomfortable, so he doesn’t. He almost raises his hand to shake Charlie’s, but he luckily realises at the last moment that it would be way too formal. 

Before he’s able to make a decision, Charlie careens into his chest, hugging his waist and furrowing his nose against his pounding heart. Nick is so shocked that he doesn’t move. His brain is freezing, and he can’t bring himself to stir, for fear that it would break the magic and Charlie would disappear before his eyes. He closes his eyes in pleasure, and just when he’s about to get his shit together and circle Charlie’s shoulders with his arms, the younger boy backs away, avoiding his eyes. Fuck, it took him way too long to reciprocate his embrace, and now he’s embarrassed. 

Charlie clears his throat, his cheeks red and tragically devoid of dimples. 

"Right…"

Charlie’s eyes are trained on passing cars to his right. He’s clearly self-conscious about the hug. Nick, however, can’t look away. Once again, he’s feeling awe-struck in front of this boy whom he’s liked for most of his teenage years. Since his stupid brain is set on humiliating him today, that’s exactly what he tells Charlie.

"You’re so pretty…" He whispers reverently. 

Fuck. Did he really have to say that out loud? Charlie’s head snaps back towards him. He looks caught off guard, but visibly pleased. Then, as soon as his embarrassment fades, his features take on a mischievous expression.

"The prettiest in the room, wouldn’t you say?" Charlie teases with a crooked grin and gleaming eyes.

He pretends to be annoyed but in truth, he’s relieved that Charlie’s not self-conscious anymore. He can’t stand the idea of hurting the dark-haired boy’s feelings, even unintentionally. 

"You're never gonna let me live this down, are you?"

"No, I don't think so," Charlie replies with a joyous look.

Nick only shakes his head good-naturedly. It’s funny how much he doesn’t care about being the butt of the joke if it’s one that makes Charlie smile like this.

“You’re very… You’re very handsome too," Charlie compliments, taking a step towards Nick so that they’re almost chest to chest. When he puts one of his golden strands between his fingers, Nick stops breathing completely. “I really like the hair."

They look into each other’s eyes for five intense seconds, during which Nick is convinced that time stops, the tide reverses, and the stars explode. Gravity changes from vertical to horizontal, pulling him towards the boy in front of him. Nature is bending to accommodate the tug between their souls.

Then, Charlie abruptly pulls back and starts walking. He throws him a thousand-watt smile behind his shoulder and exclaims:

"Shall we go, then? The restaurant is not too far from here. It’s pretty close to my flat, actually. I go there all the time with Tao."

Nick shakes himself out of his stupor and catches up with Charlie.

"Were you there for a long time? I’m sorry I kept you waiting…"

"Oh no, don't be, you didn't!" Charlie reassures. "I had a shift this afternoon, so I was already here."

"Right."

As they move side to side, their hands keep brushing. Every time they do, a little spark goes up Nick’s arm, and he has to physically stop himself from taking Charlie’s hand in his. He’s too anxious to make any kind of move on him, even if Charlie seems to have fewer reservations. 

"What’s that?" The younger boy asks while pointing at the brown package in Nick’s hand.

"Oh, it’s for you. I wanted to get you flowers, but then I figured a bouquet would be quite cumbersome…" Nick knows he’s rambling, but he can’t stop himself. "Then, I thought about chocolate, but we’re already getting dinner, so that would have been pretty weird, right? At this point, I didn’t know what to get, so I just…"

“Nick!!" Charlie interrupts, laughing in disbelief. "Just give it to me!" 

If he’s got to be honest, he wouldn’t have remembered its existence if Charlie hadn’t mentioned it. His date is simply too distracting. Nick hands him his gift, terrified of his reaction. He feels the need to explain himself, even if the present is pretty self-explanatory. 

"I noticed you reading Greek Mythology in the library. Well, obviously you know about that, I asked you about it. But, yeah. I went to a bookshop and asked for advice, and they gave me this…"

Charlie opens the package delicately, careful not to tear up the paper. Behind the wrapping, the cover of Henry Maddox’s new book appears. Nick had no idea who this guy was two hours ago, but the bookseller was so enthusiastic about his work that he simply had to go with his recommendation.

"Oh my god," Charlie whispers, clearly astonished.

Nick can’t read his face. Is it a good or a bad "oh, my god"? The uncertainty makes him panic.

"Is it weird that I did that? It is, weird, isn’t it? It just felt strange to come empty-handed… Fuck, I knew I should have gotten flowers…"

Charlie puts a hand on Nick’s mouth, effectively stopping his word vomit. 

"Stop talking. You didn't need to get me anything, but this is a wonderful gift. I wanted to get it since it came out but I never got around to it. Thank you so much, Nick."

What happens next could be out of one of the blonde’s dreams. Charlie gets on his tiptoes, kisses his right cheek, and takes his hand in his. Then, he starts walking again, trailing a stunned Nick behind him. If the spot on his cheek still tingles fifteen minutes later, it’s nobody’s business but Nick’s.

***

The restaurant is packed. Thankfully, Charlie had the foresight to book them a table earlier in the day. When Nick thanks him for it, Charlie tells him that he’s happy he did as it was apparently the last table available. He also thanks the blonde for accepting the change in plans so willingly, explaining that he likes to know what he’s going to eat ahead of time. He doesn’t go into details as to why. Nick senses that there’s a story to be told there, but he wouldn’t have pushed it even if the waiter hadn’t come to get them.

The server is a slender man whose smile slightly throws Nick off. His brown eyes are wide open (he doesn’t blink once in the minute he’s there) and his movements are slightly erratic. He looks like an overeager puppy when he assures them that he’ll do his best to accommodate their needs throughout the night even if their orders will most likely take some time as there’s a wedding dinner taking place in the main area. Nick briefly thinks that it’s an odd place for a reception to take place, but who is he to judge? The waiter places them in an isolated corner, at a small table near the kitchen and the bathrooms. He hands them the menu before disappearing as fast as he came.

Nick watches him leave, momentarily distracted by the weird vibe this waiter has going on. Feeling Charlie’s eyes on him, he turns back to him. They exchange small smiles before diving into their menu. Unsurprisingly, there are only Spanish dishes on there. What’s more unexpected is that Nick doesn’t recognise any of them. He knows of paella, tortillas, and tapas, but there isn’t any of that on the card. After a bit of confused reading, he decides that he’ll have whatever Charlie’s having. He’s not a picky eater by any means and it will give them something to talk about in case they feel particularly uninspired. 

"What will you have?" Nick asks Charlie once the curly-haired boy seems to have made up his mind.

"Some patatas bravas." Charlie answers. "My abuela used to make us some when she visited us at Christmastime. My dad's roast dinner was awful, so it was the only thing I could stomach."

Oh, Nick knows patatas bravas. He eats some every summer when he’s on holiday in Menorca with his family. He didn’t even see them listed on the menu. He must have been too distracted by Charlie’s left foot, dangerously close to his ankle under the table.

"I'll have the same, then!"

"Are you…sure? Spanish food is not really spicy, but the sauce they use here is deadly. It can feel really hot if you’re not used to it."

"Oh, I'm sure I can handle a little spice," the older boy retorts with a flirty smile.

You’re really hot, is what he initially thought, but thankfully didn’t utter out loud. Flirting with Charlie feels like walking on a tightrope. It’s incredibly exhilarating, but he doesn’t know how he ended up here. He’s not sure he possesses the necessary skills for it. A few minutes ago, he still felt like he could puke from stress, and he’s only just now daring to look into Charlie’s crystal teal irises.

From the corner of his eyes, Nick sees the strange waiter from before appearing at their side. In front of him, Charlie chuckles at his daring response, and his cheeks colour a light shade darker. 

"No, but I'm not kidding," he insists. "It really is something."

"Are you two ready to order?" The waiter asks with his nasal voice.

"Yes," Nick replies readily, "we’ll both have the patatas bravas, please!"

"It's your funeral…" Charlie mutters so that only his date can hear him, shaking his head in amusement. 

"Would you like something to drink?"

"Char?" Nick asks without thinking.

"A diet Coke, please."

"And I'll have a Perrier. Cheers!"

As the waiter leaves, Nick redirects his attention to Charlie. The younger boy is trying to repress a smile although his delicious dimples betray him. His eyes shine with delight, but it’s the bashful look on his face that makes Nick pause.

"Char?" He repeats, wonder apparent in his voice.

Nick wavers, then realises what he just said. The tightrope begins shaking slightly under his feet.

"Oh. I'm sorry, it just slipped out…"

His face is burning and he curses his genes for making him so prone to going red. He must look like such a ninny right now…

"Is it what you’ve been calling me in your head the whole time?" Charlie teases, not hiding his wolfish grin anymore. 

That’s so embarrassing. Now Charlie knows he gives him nicknames in his head when they’ve talked maybe two times in their life before. He probably thinks he’s such a creep…

"Sorry -"

"Stop apologising, you idiot," Charlie interrupts, giggling. "I like it!"

"S-"

"Don't!!"

"Okay, I’ll stop." Nick concedes despite still feeling anxious. Luckily, Charlie doesn’t seem upset. That was a close one, though. He knew he would say something wrong eventually, but he didn’t think it would be this early in the night. His brain scrambles to find something, anything to say. "Have you been giving me nicknames too, then?"

"Who told you I’ve been thinking about you at all?"

As jittery as he feels, the blonde has to remind himself that Charlie’s just kidding. Yesterday night’s events are proof of that. 

"You did. Last night. What was it, again? "I’ve liked you since I was fourteen, Nick"?"

"Okay, you got me mister "I’ve waited years for this". Hmm, let’s see.” Charlie pretends to think about it, scrubbing his chin exaggeratedly. "The rugby king?" Nick makes a face of disgust. "Freckles? Nellie’s brother?"

"You know about Nellie?!" He blurts excitedly.

Now, this is a topic Nick can talk about for hours!

"Of course, I do! That’s the reason I’m even talking to you in the first place."

"Oh, I see how it is, you only like me for my dog, then?"

"No, I only like you for your arms. Your dog is just an added bonus."

Nick blushes bright red. "I only like you for your arms." The sentence rings back in his head. The tightrope shakes so violently that he loses his balance. He’s only holding on with his arms, his fucking arms that Charlie seems to like more than him.

The little voice in the back of his head returns.  

You’re not good enough. He just likes how you look. He just wants to shag you. 

He’s kissed some people at parties, but he’s never gone further with any of them. He couldn’t stand the idea of sleeping with people he didn’t like romantically. He couldn’t stand the idea of sleeping with people who didn’t like him romantically. Most importantly, he couldn’t stand the idea of sleeping with someone who wasn’t Charlie. He knew this was stupid, as a relationship with the younger boy only became a possibility yesterday night, but he just never could, and he wasn’t about to force himself to do anything for the sake of it. Moreover, his first year of uni was stressful enough without having to engage in the intricate world of relationships, be they romantic or not.

He gets the same queasy feeling that he often experiences when strangers try to take him home with them, only worse because this time it’s Charlie who provoked it. Nick shakes his head. This was only a joke, right? He wouldn’t be here on a date with him if he didn’t like him. He wouldn’t have spent four years liking him if it was just a matter of physical attraction. Right?

Charlie looks like a proud little shit. Definitely a joke then. So Nick reigns it in and moves on with the discussion. He can do it.

"Do you wanna see pictures, then?" The blonde offers with a slightly quavering voice. "Of my dog, not of my arms." He laughs because he’s embarrassed, but he doesn’t find it that funny.

Charlie, however, bursts out laughing and shakes his head with what looks like fondness.

"Do you even need to ask?"

Nick whips out his phone from his trousers’ pocket and places it between them so that Charlie has good visibility of his screen. When he unlocks it, his heart stops completely. The photo of Charlie playing the drums is displayed on the screen. Worst of all, the bookmark logo on the bottom right of the screen is white, indicating that Nick has saved the picture. He feels like all the enamoured and slightly indecent thoughts the image evoked in him are contained in this logo. His organs drop in his stomach. He’s spent so much time watching the pic before leaving that he made himself late and hasn’t checked his phone since then. Fuck. Him.

The ruby lad exits the page as fast as he can but he’s not quick enough. Charlie has already seen everything.

"Nick! Were you stalking my Insta?!" Charlie’s tone is gleeful, but Nick doesn’t hear it.

A last tremor makes his hands let go of the rope, and he feels himself falling. 

"Oh, my god. Oh my god…" He whispers, sounding more and more fearful each time.

"Don’t you dare say sorry! You’re allowed to look through it. I mean, you waited long enough..."

All the voices he tried to push down are now screaming together in his head. Rationally, he knows Charlie isn’t angry, he just told him so himself. He knows that. And yet, he can’t help but feel like he’s ruined everything. His biggest fear about tonight was that he would look like an imbecile in front of Charlie, and that's exactly what happened. On several occasions, on top of that. What’s more, Charlie has been nothing but kind to him, but he didn’t exactly prove him wrong in thinking that there is a chance he only likes him for his looks, which put him even more on edge.

"Nick, are you alright?" Charlie's voice is gentle despite the distinctive nervousness that begins to impregnate his words.

Nick doesn't feel as bad as he did last night when Charlie rejected him after they kissed for the first time, but it's a close call. He puts his hands on his eyes, the tip of his fingers applying so much pressure that stars begin to illuminate the darkness inside his eyelids. He doesn't want to see Charlie's face in case there's a look of disgust on it. He doesn't want to see anything. Fuck that. He doesn't want to be seen, or perceived anymore.

"I’m sorry, this is so embarrassing…" He groans begrudgingly. 

"You’re fine, everything’s fine…" 

Charlie gently lifts his hands towards the boy’s face and prises his palms away from his eyes. He tangles his fingers with Nick’s and rests them on the table, his thumbs drawing reassuring patterns on the blonde’s skin. 

Nick takes a shuddering breath. His heart knows that he’s okay and that Charlie isn’t mad... But his brain doesn’t. It goes into survival mode, and he blurts what it thinks is the most logical option, even if deep down, he knows it’s the worst idea he’s ever had. 

“Maybe we should just be friends."

Charlie’s thumbs stop moving. In an instant, his cheeks grow pale and his gaze hardens. Even so, his hands stay on Nick’s. 

"…What?" His tone is clipped, and Nick hates himself for it. 

He has to explain himself, even if he’s himself only half convinced of what he’s suggesting. His anxious brain is jumbled and nothing seems to make sense anymore. He’s got the feeling that talking to Charlie will help, though. His thoughts often look less scary when they’re out in the open.

"I don’t know, I just… I keep messing things up, and you don’t really know me, do you? Maybe you just like my arms, like you said. Maybe there’s nothing to be liked beyond my looks. Maybe you just want to get laid - and if so, no judgment here, but that’s really not what I’m looking for! I really like you, Charlie, I have for a long time, and I don’t think I could settle for that."

However this is going, Nick is at least proud of himself for expressing his boundaries. He’s got a bad habit of saying yes to things he doesn’t want, but it would seem that he’s getting better at saying his piece. He just hopes that he won’t lose Charlie in the process.

"Nick…" The boy breathes out, achingly soft.

At the beginning of his speech, his cerulean eyes were wide with fear, but now, as a determined look reaches his features, they’re full of unmistakable affection. They’re wildly distracting, but Nick has to get it all out.

"All the couples I know - Tara and Darcy, Sai and Soph - they’ve been friends first. They knew what they were heading into before starting dating. What if you go home tonight, and realise this was a mistake? That you’ve wasted four years of your life on me? Or worse, on someone you thought I was, who doesn’t really exist?"

Charlie’s grip on his hands tightens. His expression leaves room for no doubt. He won’t give this up.

"Okay. Listen to me, Nick. Firstly, I’ve not wasted four years on you. I didn’t let my crush stop me from being content with my life, and I hope you didn’t either. Even when I thought I could never have you, even when I tried to make my infatuation go away, you sparked a joy inside of me that no one else could. Just the sight of you, being so kind, and so good to everyone, always brought a smile to my face. I’m very sorry I joked about only liking you for your looks. I didn’t think you would take me seriously. For the record, I really like you, and I definitely don’t "just want to get laid". Whatever happens tonight, I won’t regret it. I’m sure of it."

With each of Charlie’s words, the fog dissipates and the voices quieten. Nick is almost moved to tears by the gentleness of the boy he reveres. He takes on every insecurity he might have without judgement and dismantles the reasoning behind his biggest fears. There’s only one thing left to be addressed.

"You don’t think I’m…" He begins tentatively, eyes filled with apprehension. 

"Do I not think you’re what?" Charlie tilts his head, his demeanour patient. 

"Well… dumb? An idiot? A himbo, or whatever you want to call it?" Nick’s looking at the wooden table, unable to reach Charlie’s eyes. He feels stupid just for asking this question. A smart man would never have to be reassured about that, evidently.

"I’m surprised you even know that word!" He exclaims with a startled chuckle. Then, his eyes widen comically as he realises what he’s just said. "Not because you’re ignorant! It’s just… you know!"

"I know," Nick answers with a laugh of his own. "I learned it pretty recently, actually. Darcy calls me it sometimes. At first, I didn’t really mind it, but then…"

"But then I looked down on you when you tried talking to me about my reading and told you I would never like you?" Charlie guesses somberly.

Look at him connecting the dots so fast. This just proves my point. He’s the smartest person I know.

"Well… Yeah," Nick confirms. "You’re so brilliant, and I’m just… Me. I don’t read all that much, I’m not good at maths like you were in school, I don’t have any musical ability…"

Charlie’s face becomes pensive. He looks like he’s faced with a problem and he’s examining all the possible solutions in order to solve it. 

"You study education, right?" Nick silently nods. "Well then, shaping the minds of the new generation isn’t a job for idiots, is it? I’ve heard you’re top of your class, too. Isn’t it true?"

"Well, yeah, but this is only my first year. I had to change majors after failing my first year…"

"Plus, you’re the rugby team’s captain." Charlie carries on, ignoring the blonde’s attempts at devaluing himself. "I think leadership requires great emotional intelligence, don’t you think? Now, it’s true that we don’t know each other all that well, but that’s what dates are for, right?"

Nick is not on a tightrope anymore. He’s on a beautiful sandy path leading to a beach. He can see the waves in Charlie’s eyes, but his inner ocean is calmed by the sound of the drummer’s voice.  

Charlie is incredibly, wonderfully good, and Nick likes him even more than he thought possible. A genuine and grateful smile forms on his lips. Everything's going to be okay because he's not alone in this. He has the best person he knows right alongside him.

"Right. I’m so sorry about dumping all my insecurities on you right away. They’re not yours to fix, and I should be able to handle myself better than this…"

"I think we should ban the "s-word". It’s getting ridiculous!" Charlie teases.

This makes Nick chuckle, before looking away. His cheeks are burning, but he’s not ashamed. Charlie is that good. He’s able to fluster him without making him feel bad about himself. Not anymore, at least.

"I’m glad we talked about it." The curly-haired boy continues gently. "I’d much rather know what’s bothering you and put your mind at ease than let it fester. Now, I think you were about to show me pictures of Nellie…"

For the next fifteen minutes, they talk without interruption, happy to tell each other stories about the people they love. Nick tells Charlie all about the walks he goes on with his mum and Nellie when he’s back home. He lets him know about the time he caught Darcy trying to chug one pint of vodka and how he and Tara had to confiscate her glass. He even mentions how Imogen felt really bad about what happened last night. Charlie assures him that this isn’t her fault and that if it wasn’t for her, maybe they would have never been honest about their feelings for each other.

Charlie tells him about his best friend Tao’s love for movies (which he calls "films"), Isaac’s dedication to reading at least four books a week, and Elle’s passion for art and fashion. He explains to him why Henry Maddox’s work is so transformative, and gushes about the time the professor answered one of his questions at a book convention. He talks adorably fast when he gets excited, and this makes Nick’s belly flutter with a million butterflies. 

They hold hands the whole time. Soon, Nick has forgotten all about his previous concerns. They make each other laugh, and he’s delighted to say that Charlie’s dimples have not left his face for one second after his ridiculous outburst about being friends. Nick’s getting bolder, and he dares to swipe his thumb on Charlie’s index finger, shivering at the stutter it provokes in the younger one’s breath. His eyes periodically fall on Charlie’s lips, and he’s thankful about the table separating them, otherwise, he might do something stupid like plant his lips on his. 

Halfway into one of Charlie’s rants about their old maths teacher, Nick has a breakthrough. Yes, Charlie is way out of his league; yes, Charlie may wake up tomorrow and realise that he could do much better than him, but fuck him if he isn’t going to enjoy it while it lasts, however long that may be. He’s the luckiest motherfucker in the history of the universe right now.

Nick is in the middle of a Coach Singh impression when the dishes finally arrive at their table.

"We’re very sorry for the delay," the eager waiter apologises, "it’s a bit of a crazy night! I hope you enjoy your meal!"

They’re forced to untangle their hands and Nick already mourns the loss of Charlie's touch. All the emotions have made him hungry, though, so he dives in enthusiastically, taking a giant mouthful of Patatas bravas. He doesn’t understand why Charlie watches him with such wide eyes and an open mouth until the taste hits him. 

Oh. My. God.

The dish is so spicy that his eyes begin to water. The patatas bravas he’s tasted in Menorca have never been so fiery. He’s almost certain they’re not supposed to be so hot. If Charlie hadn’t warned him before they ordered, he might have thought that the weird waiter spiked their plates with deadly hot pepper. 

The sensation is getting too much in his throat, and Nick starts coughing. Mortified, he tries to hide it in his fist, but at this rate, he’s making enough noise to compete with the screaming toddlers of the wedding reception. In the distance, he sees their server clapping out of rhythm to the music, dancing a few jig-like steps. Good thing he didn’t hear him, he might have been very hurt if he saw him react this badly to the dish he brought him.

"Are you alright, there, Nick?" Charlie inquires with a smirk.

The little menace. Nick doesn’t want to admit defeat just yet, though. Weirdly, he wants to live up to Charlie’s family’s roots. Most of all, he could do without another humiliation tonight, even if he’s now sure that it won’t make Charlie run for the hills.

"Hm hm. You were right, it's very good!" His voice is unusually high and falsely relaxed.

"Isn't it?" Charlie retorts, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "What do you like about it?"

"The… chilli pepper. Very… tasty…"

"Nick, stop pretending you're not dying, your face is redder than a baboon's arse."

This is all it takes to get Nick to drop the pretence. 

"Oh my god, I can't feel my tongue anymore!!" He cries out in despair.

Charlie bursts out laughing as Nick gulps his glass of Perrier. 

"And it took so long to come too, we'll be here until midnight if you order something else!" The younger boy giggles, gleeful about his date’s misery.

"No, no, I'll be okay, I can do it…"

He’s trying to convince himself as much as he’s trying to convince Charlie, to be honest.

"Are you sure? I don't mind waiting. I'm having a really good time," Charlie promises softly.

Nick melts. Not only is he nice enough not to tell him "I told you so" but he's also happy to be here with him. How is this man real?

"I'm a big boy," Nick maintains, ever the optimist. "I'm sure the second bite will be better now that I'm used to the taste."

The second bite isn't better. In fact, it might be even worse.

Still, Nick keeps taking small bites as they talk, careful not to eat too much at once. The spice is way too strong, though, and he finds that he can’t ingest any more at the risk of making himself retch. When Charlie is distracted enough by the story of how Sai and Sophie met a year ago, Nick drops his fork and stops eating. His stomach is still rumbling, but he’ll get a dessert to make up for it.

For the most part, he’s too enthralled by Charlie’s lively presence to think about addressing it, but by the time Charlie’s practically done with his plate, Nick decides to come clean.

"Charlie, I have to tell you something, but you have to promise me you won't be mad at me."

"What?" His eyes cloud with worry in an instant, but it quickly disappears when he hears Nick’s next words.

"This food is hotter than the sun, and I think that if I take one more bite, I might die."

Because Nick’s the luckiest person in the world, that’s the moment their loon of a waiter decides to materialise beside them.

"Is everything okay?"

"Oh, it's delicious, thank you!"

Once a people pleaser, always a people pleaser…

"I'm glad you don't find it too spicy, most patrons can't handle it!" The waiter’s smile is truly unsettling. He wouldn’t have looked more pleased if Nick had complimented his professional expertise.

"Oh, not at all," the blonde nervously bumbles. "Make sure to give my compliments to the chef. I love spicy! Give me… all the, uh… spice."

The man thanks him more profusely than he would have if Nick had promised to hire him as a personal chef before making his way to the kitchen.

"Oh, my god, Nick!!" Charlie blurts out, gobsmacked. "Why didn't you say anything? He could have given you something else!"

The drummer can't contain his laughter anymore. It’s clear that he finds Nick utterly ridiculous, but the latter doesn’t care. When it comes to Charlie, it would seem that he’s fine with a lot of things.

"I couldn't do it" Nick protests, pouting unconsciously. "What if he got upset?"

"Ni-iick!! That's his job, he wouldn't have gotten upset!"

The way Charlie pronounces his name, interrupted by a giggle, makes his inside burn into flames and melt faster than a pious person’s prayer candle.

"Still, I don't like complaining…"

"Awww, you dork, you want to be liked so much!" He’s clearly laughing at him, but his tone is laced with so much endearment that Nick can’t bring himself to care.

"I don’t!"

"You do! You can’t stand the idea of people taking a dislike to you, and it's adorable."

They look into each other’s eyes, both transfixed by the amount of tenderness they find there. For a splendid second, Nick thinks they might lean towards each other, and reunite the lips that belong together like sand and water. Alas, a shrill voice makes them jump apart.

"Hi again!"

"Oh, god…"

It’s the waiter again. What does he want, now? Charlie’s cracking up once more, delighted by this strange turn of events. 

"The kitchen was so pleased to receive such nice compliments from your table that they decided to gift you these Padron peppers. As they say in Spain, "Pimientos de Padron, unos pican y otros no"! It means that some of them are as mild as bell peppers, but others, about one in ten, are really hot! Isn’t that so much fun?!"

Nick would rather cut his own dick off than play the pepper roulette, thank you very much. He turns back to Charlie, so visibly ecstatic that he’s practically jumping up and down on his chair. 

Well… Maybe the pepper roulette is not so bad after all.

"Oh! They didn’t need to do that! I thought they were snowed under orders…"

"They wanted to! You both waited so patiently, you deserve something on the house, as a token of our appreciation!" The man just stands there with an unwavering smile and unblinking eyes. As an afterthought, he adds: "Also, there’s no chef here. Just cooks!"

This finishes Charlie off. He wheezes with laughter, hiding his face behind his hands. Nick is left blushing, ashamed of his earlier spouts of nonsense. Thankfully, the waiter is too busy looking like an AI and doesn’t seem to notice anything wrong in their behaviour.

"Right. Well… thank you so much…" Nick murmurs with a sheepish smile.

"Come on! Taste it!"

"What?" He sounds ridiculously discomfited, but he can’t help it.

What the fuck is wrong with this robot lookalike?! Was he hired by one of Charlie’s admirers to neutralise the competition?! This is the only possible explanation!

"Taste it! One in ten! I want to see your reaction! Though I bet you can handle even the hottest ones since you liked the sauce on the patatas bravas!"

Charlie’s head is resting on his fist, and his eyes are gleaming with naughtiness. Nick suddenly fears the other boy’s reaction. 

"Come on, Nick, taste it!" Charlie challenges with an evil smirk.

Nick starts sweating, looking nervously between his date and the weirdest waiter he’s ever seen. Then, he exhales, braces himself, and takes a tiny bite of the condiment. 

As expected, it tastes awful. It’s definitely the one in ten the cyborg was talking about. He doesn’t want to hurt the man’s feelings, though (if the guy even has some), so he tries not to look like he’s two seconds away from dying, even if he can feel himself getting red and sweaty already.

"Hummmmm… Yep, it’s -" He’s cut off by a violent cough. Then, sounding as if he might start crying: "It’s incredible. Thank you so much, sir."

Fortunately, the waiter is as oblivious as ever and appears satisfied with his reaction.

"It was our pleasure. Have a nice rest of your meal, sirs!"

When he’s finally gone, Nick spits everything in his napkin, making horrendous retching sounds as he does so. Then, he gulps his entire glass of water, but it doesn’t make it much better.

"Charlie, you’ve got to help me!!" He whines, so desperate for this atrocious taste to leave his mouth at once that he forgets all his previous inhibitions. 

At this point, Charlie has held back from laughing for so long that tears are now streaming down his face. He waves his arms helplessly, trying to communicate to Nick that he's currently unable to speak. In any other circumstances, the blonde might feel a surge of pride at the sight of his crush dying of laughter because of him, but the spice numbs everything else. He's so hot that he feels drops of sweat forming on the back of his neck. He can't stop messing with his hair by dint of raking his hand through it anxiously, and his carefully styled strands start to stick to his forehead.

"I’m not kidding, Char, that was a murder attempt!" He insists dramatically.

"Oh my god! You really have to learn how to say no to people, Nick!" Charlie manages to assert between fits of laughter.

"I think it might be a little too late for that…" Nick goes to refill his glass of water and realises that the carafe is empty. "Oh, fuck me. I’m not calling him again, he might come back with a dish hot enough to kill Scoville himself!"

The younger boy lets out a big snort, a hand shooting up to cover his mouth immediately. He’s cracking up too much to feel abashed, anyway. 

"Give me your coke!" Nick orders frantically. Then, sheepish about using this tone of voice: "Please."

"Oh no, I’m sorry, Nick, but that’s a really bad idea! Spices and coke don’t mix well, you can trust me on that."

"Okay. Then fuck it, I’m stealing this table’s water."

Nick gets up and walks toward the deserted table next to them. Before he’s able to reach it, though, he’s stopped in his tracks by large hands grabbing his shoulders. When he turns away, ready to tell someone off for touching him so gruffly (in truth, he would more likely politely ask them not to do that please), he’s met with such a surreal vision that he once again wonders if he’s still asleep after all. The wedding guests are doing a conga, and for some reason, he’s now at the head of it. The man who took hold of him is pushing him away from the table, guiding him towards the makeshift dance floor of the main area. 

"Are you fucking kidding me…?" Nick despairs under his breath.

He tries to stop in his tracks, but it earns him drunken protests from the guests behind him. At their table, Charlie is doubling over in laughter. Nick throws him panicked looks but the younger boy’s too busy wiping tears of mirth from his cheeks. Reluctant to ruin the fun of a couple on their special day, Nick lets himself be hijacked, even going as far as clapping awkwardly when someone’s grandmother glares at him disapprovingly.

After a while, Charlie does get up. Nick watches him gracefully cross the dance floor and approach the man behind him. At first, the guest is yelling at the blonde to add his date to the cortege, but with a gentle voice and a dazzling smile, Charlie manages to convince him to let Nick go. He grabs the older boy’s hands and pulls him towards him, effectively pulling him out of the conga. 

For a minute, they swing their linked arms in rhythm, enjoying the music and each other’s touch. They’re staring into each other’s eyes as if they can’t look away. Maybe they can’t, or perhaps they just don’t want to. Nick is filled with so many emotions right now. Bashfulness. Gratefulness. Relief. Attraction. Affection. So much affection. It all comes out of him in a soft giggle that only amplifies when Charlie joins him. They step forward at the same time, putting their foreheads against each other. Nick breathes fully for the first time since he left Charlie yesterday night.

Suddenly, the brunette pulls away and heads decidedly towards the back of the room, yanking Nick’s arm in the process. With their hands still interlocked, they walk past their table and go straight into the men’s bathroom. Once they’re in, Charlie unceremoniously pushes Nick inside one of the stalls.

"What are you-"

"I’ve thought of something that might help."

To be honest, Nick had forgotten all about the pepper. Charlie is standing five inches away from him and is looking up at Nick through his long eyelashes. From up close, Nick can discern all the shades of blue and grey that blend in his eyes. It’s like studying a gemstone under a microscope. Deux pierres précieuses. They’re really pretty from afar, but from this near, they shine brighter than the entire solar system.

The atmosphere shifts between them. The giggles have given way to a raw intensity that Nick has never experienced before Charlie. The air around them thickens, and the blonde’s hands reflexively find the younger boy’s hips. 

"Really? What is it?" Nick’s voice is reduced to a whisper. Speaking louder would feel sinful as he wants to worship the angel in front of him.

When Charlie grabs his face with both of his hands and kisses him fiercely, Nick doesn’t feel stupid about calling this moment holy in his head. His lips feel more miraculous than any of the deities he’s heard about. Tragically, the drummer backs away almost immediately.

"Is this okay?" He checks breathlessly, mouth still close to Nick’s. The blonde wants to breathe his air for the rest of his life. Live off his exhalations. Of course, this is okay.

"Yeah…"

Charlie dives back in. He pushes Nick’s larger body against the wall like he weighs nothing, and that does funny things to the blonde’s tummy. One of Charlie’s hands travels from his cheek down to his bicep, whereas his other one buries itself in the short hair at the back of his head. Nick lets out an embarrassing whimper that turns into a moan when the younger boy slips his tongue into his mouth. He can feel Charlie’s lips morphing into a smirk, but he doesn’t care as long as he doesn’t stop kissing him. Nick brings his right arm higher on the brunette’s back, gripping his shirt in a tight fist while his left one circles his waist completely. 

Nick shifts their bodies so that now, Charlie is the one backed against the wall. The “humph!” he produces makes Nick look up in worry but Charlie only giggles in response to the question in the blonde’s eyes. So Nick resumes his previous ministrations. He kisses Charlie all over his face, paying particular attention to the spots that transform his face when he smiles. It’s a silent thank you to the features that invariably make his heart stutter in his chest. He places soft kisses on the lines around Charlie’s eyes, on the faint ones on his forehead, and on his dark eyebrows. Finally, he puts his lips on his dimples, two shiny buttercups in the valley of his cheeks. 

Nick can’t get enough of him. He feels like touching Charlie is a privilege that shouldn’t be granted to just anyone, so he makes his motions deliberately slow. Charlie deserves the lasting touch of an eternal being, not the fleeting caresses of a mortal one. Nick hopes he knows just how exceptional and precious he is. Just as this thought crosses his mind, Charlie’s hands reach his jaw so tenderly that the touch is almost painful. It hurts him to know his cowardice made him miss four years of such placation. Charlie guides Nick’s mouth towards his, and the song their lips sing in chorus sounds like a promise of eternity.

After a while, they part reluctantly, putting their foreheads together and exchanging panting breaths. Nick keeps his eyes closed, desperate to stay in the moment.

"Come back to mine." Charlie murmurs. "My couch is way more comfortable than these sticky walls."

For the first time since they entered, Nick takes in their environment. On the wall behind Charlie, there’s a graffiti of a giant penis, as there often is, and a few racist slurs. Charming. His brain reconnects at last. When he reflects on his previous worries - Charlie only wanting to have sex with him - Nick finds that he’s feeling calm. His offer could be totally innocent, and it also could not. Either way, he’s sure of two things. Charlie likes him for real, and he’s going to say yes.

"Besides, we still have to get some food in you." Charlie continues. Then, a nervous yet hopeful expression spreads to his face, which is absurd after what they’ve just done. "After that, maybe we could hang out, and talk a little more? It’s only 10 p.m."

Definitely no sex, then. Nick’s insides swim with a confusing mix of relief and disappointment. 

"Do you think we could do a little more of this, too?" He inquires with a flirty tone. "Since your abuela’s recipe caused irreparable damage to my mouth, it’s only fair that her grandson gives me a hand."

"I like the way you think, Nelson," Charlie smirks, happiness radiating off of him. "You’re totally right, I should right the wrongs of my ancestors. Defend the family’s honour and whatnot."

They walk out of the restaurant hand in hand after leaving a generous tip to the android waiter. Tao, Charlie’s roommate, is at his girlfriend Elle’s place, so he’s not in the flat when Nick and Charlie arrive. The younger boy sends his friend a quick text to inform him that he’s back home safely, explaining to the rugby player that Tao expects news from him. According to his blush when Nick asks him what his roommate’s reaction was to the news of him visiting, it’s safe to assume that Charlie failed to mention that he came home with him. That’s okay, he’ll be gone in a few hours, and Tao will never have to know if Charlie doesn’t want to tell him. 

The blonde makes himself comfortable in the very neatly organised kitchen as he watches Charlie busying himself at the countertops. The brunette has his back to him, and Nick suddenly feels overwhelmed with a wave of emotion. The simple sight of the younger boy taking care of him, preparing him a meal so domestically, is weirdly breathtaking. Right then and there, Nick Nelson knows for sure. Sooner or later, he’ll fall in love with Charlie Spring. That is if he hasn’t a bit already. It’s inevitable. He knows that whatever happens next, years from now, he’ll always wish Charlie was in his kitchen with him, bumping hips as they prepare dinner together. He should be alarmed by the intensity of his feelings, but he doesn’t feel scared anymore. How could he, when such a beautiful sentiment burns in his veins and warms his whole being?

He eats in silence on the couch, refusing to let go of Charlie’s hand even if it slows down his progress. When he’s finished, they cuddle up close. He puts the shorter boy’s legs across his lap and Charlie rests his head on Nick’s shoulder. He’s looking at him through his long lashes again, and the blonde can’t stop himself from placing a gentle kiss on his rosy lips. They talk in whispers, as if afraid to wake up the world with the loudness of their devotion. 

"Can you believe it took us four years and a game of truth or dare to get us to talk?" Charlie asks in disbelief.

"Hm, I’m sorry, I tried to talk to you several times, but you wouldn’t let me!" Nick protests, linking his fingers with Charlie’s.

"I know, I’m sorry."

"I seem to remember you saying something about the s-word…" The blonde chastises slyly.

"Shut up, you just said it! Plus, it doesn’t apply to me." Charlie pouts.

"I was joking, darling. And yes, it does! You shouldn’t be kind to others and mean to yourself. It’s not fair."

Nick cringes internally. He could not sound more like a primary teacher if he tried. It doesn’t matter though, because Charlie’s looking at him with so much awe that he can’t bring himself to care.

"I guess I’ve been kind of mean to myself for a long time," Charlie admits with a sigh. "That’s part of the reason why I never let myself get close to you. I didn’t think this (he makes a gesture with his hand to show how they’re tangled in each other’s arms) could ever happen to me."

Oh, Char… If only you knew how much better than me you are. You’re better than the whole world, actually.

"Me neither…" Nick breathes out before hugging Charlie and nuzzling his nose in his neck. He never believed he would get to do this someday, and yet he feels so safe here... This is already his favourite place in the whole world. "Thank you, Charlie…"

"Please, don’t thank me." Charlie winces. "Did you know that Mr Lange wanted us to sit next to each other in form? I was the one who told him no. I knew my crush would get even worse if I talked to you, and I didn’t want to risk that."

Nick did know, actually, and he still remembers the heartbreak he felt when he heard. But Charlie’s already beating himself up for it and he doesn’t want to make him feel even worse, so he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he chooses to reassure him.

"Don’t be too hard on yourself. It was self-preservation, right? I hate to think about it, but I know I was part of a social group that made your life harder at the time. I’m not angry at you for prioritising your physical and emotional security."

Charlie shifts and both of them lift their head from the other’s shoulder. His gaze is darting around Nick’s face, going from one eye to the other. Slowly, his eyes mist over and his lips turn downwards.

"Thank you, Nick." He murmurs shakily, his expression lighting up with thinly veiled adoration.

The blonde knows he’ll be bursting into tears shortly if he doesn’t look away soon. Still, he doesn’t give way to the temptation. He feels honoured that his date is willing to show himself to him at his most vulnerable. Nick’s always been an empathic person, but Charlie’s face is on a whole new level for him. It’s no secret that he has a huge soft spot for him, but he discovers now that he’ll mirror each one of his emotions with one of his own. If Charlie’s happy, then he is, too. If Charlie’s tearing up, then bring out the tissues, because the waterworks are coming. 

However, he doesn’t want this beautiful night to end up with both of them weeping, so he kisses each one of Charlie’s cheeks (which brings out his dimples) and changes the subject.

"Let's play a game, okay?"

"What game?"

"Ni oui ni non."

"What?"

Nick cringes. He said the name of the game in French by instinct, forgetting that Charlie apparently loathes when he speaks it. He doesn’t really get it, but that’s the only explanation for him shuddering every time he said something in his father’s language last night. He even yelled at him to “stop fucking talking in French!” when he was trying to be angry at him and his drunken rambles led him to forget how to speak English for a while.

As for "ni oui ni non", he discovered it when he was young and bored on holidays in France. His brother David didn’t want him to come along when he went out with friends, so Nick stayed at home and played with his French cousins. His father always fought with his mum to get them to spend two whole weeks with him at the last minute despite them already having plans. He promised he wouldn’t be working while they’d be there, but in reality, he fucked off to the office every chance he got. "Ni oui ni non" wasn’t the most exciting game, but it was always a nice distraction.

"Hm, sorry, the yes/no game. I used to play a lot as a kid, and it always distracted me when I felt a little off."

"Okay," Charlie agrees with a wet chuckle. "Do you want to start?"

"Alright. Let’s begin with the most important question, so it’s out of the way. Do you think there’s a chance of you agreeing to a second date despite me making a fool of myself from start to finish?"

"What do you think, Nelson?" Charlie answers with a smirk and a renewed mischievousness. 

"That's the second time you've called me "Nelson", now. I thought my nickname was "Nellie’s brother"?" Nick sulks exaggeratedly.

"I’m not using it until I meet her," Charlie explains with a playful smile. "By the way, this is my way of trying to get you to let me meet her if you couldn’t tell."

"I guess "Nelson" is better than "Rugby King"." Nick tries to go for a lighthearted tone, but he fails to hide his grimace at the nickname.

"What’s wrong with "Rugby King", mate?" The dark-haired boy teases. "Don’t you like the praise, mister team captain?"

Nick represses a shiver of disgust.

"Don’t call me "mate"! Never call me "mate", actually."

"Oi, lad, what’s this face for?" The younger boy mocks him, using a way of speaking that distinctively reminds him of Harry Greene. "Can’t call your mates "mate" anymore?"

"Thanks, I hate it."

Charlie erupts in a fit of adorable giggles, tears long forgotten. Both of them put their heads against the back of the couch, eyes never leaving each other’s. They breathe for a while, content just to exist together. Nick only starts speaking again when he remembers the significance of what they were talking about.

"So, what about a second date?" He asks shyly.

The anxiety he felt at the beginning of the night has been washed away by the numerous waves of humiliation that disappeared with the tide, only leaving traces of Charlie’s laughter and kindness in the sand. He’s feeling pacified after Charlie’s multiple reassurances, but he’s still not sure that this is really happening to him. He’s dreamt about this for so long… Is the illusion going to shatter after tonight?

"You’re sure you want to go out with me again?" Charlie asks, avoiding his eyes.

Nick freezes.

"What? Why wouldn’t I be?"

How couldn’t I be?

"I mean, I feel stupid for only realising this now, but I basically forced you to go to a restaurant you didn’t choose, and you ended up paying for a meal that you couldn’t eat…"

The remorse in his voice is unbearable to hear. It’s almost startling after spending the whole night being teased and reassured by the younger boy, but his insecurity makes sense after his previous confessions. He’s being mean to himself again. Does he not realise what a gift his sole presence is? If so, Nick isn’t doing a good enough job. 

"Char. You didn’t force me to do anything. I wanted to. Plus, you did warn me about the hot sauce, and I didn’t listen to you."

"I guess you’re right."

"Of course, I’m right. I would love nothing more than to see you again. So. Second date. Thoughts? Oh, no, wait, let me rephrase it for the game. Do you, Charlie Spring, want to go on a second date with me? Please?" He pleads, batting his eyelashes.

"I do think there is a chance I might let you take me out again. Nowhere near spices, though."

"Oh, fuck you!"

"I don’t think we’re there yet, Nick," Charlie jokes with a sly smile.

Nick’s face goes up in flames faster than a puddle of petrol. He huffs in faux annoyance, frustrated by his own lack of chill. 24 hours ago, Charlie was still thinking he was making fun of him by pretending to be interested. Hell, a minute ago, he thought Nick might not want to see him again. Where does he find his confidence? Charlie might be the bravest person the blonde has ever known, and that only makes him want to snog him more.

"Can I kiss you again?" Nick asks. His cinnamon eyes are slightly hooded and his voice is laden with unabashed desire. The perspective of a second date with his school crush makes his head swim with euphoria. 

"Isn’t it my turn to ask questions?" Charlie retorts wittily.

"Can I?"

"Yes."

"Yes!! You lost!" Nick exclaims triumphantly.

Charlie rolls his eyes in response, an affectionate grin dancing on his lips. Then, his smile remains cheeky, but his gaze turns dreamier.

"No, I don’t think so," he admits in a voice that feels softer than silk.

"Pffff, and I thought I was the corny one!"

Their smiling mouths meet with one accord. Charlie's bottom lip feels so soft and plump between Nick's, it makes him sigh in delight. He tastes like coke and happiness, and that’s a flavour the blonde wants to commit to memory. All of a sudden, Charlie breaks the kiss, removing his legs from Nick’s lap to straddle him properly. This allows them to get closer, their chests grazing as they resume kissing.

As their kisses slow down, they fall into a passionate embrace. They bury their faces in each other’s necks, hugging very closely. A waft of coconut sets Nick’s senses alight, bringing him back to yesterday night. His head starts spinning a little. He’s holding on so tightly that his biceps are bulging against Charlie’s sides. The younger boy seems to be doing the same thing: his arms are circling Nick’s neck with so much force that the older boy is sure to feel it in the morning. He doesn’t care. There is no space left between them, but they’re still not close enough. 

"I know you secretly like how corny that was," Charlie whispers against his skin.

"No, I love corny shit, and that’s a secret to absolutely no one except you!" Nick protests gleefully. 

"Who knew that the rugby captain had such a soft side…"

"I contain multitudes."

Charlie backs away slightly and puts his hand on Nick's heart. He begins tapping out a rhythm that goes against its beat. A wordless communication, a silent "I know". 

"I like that you always ask before kissing me," Charlie acknowledges with a fond look.

"And I like you," Nick counters.

"Oh my goood, okay, that’s too much cheesiness for tonight. Let’s shut up, okay?"

"You’re my very own Padron pepper," the older boy insists. "Very rare and extremely hot."

Charlie lifts his head from Nick's shoulder to throw him a wildly unimpressed look.

"I’ll also destroy your mouth if you don’t shut up right now," Charlie threatens.

"Oh, please, do!"

They spend the rest of the night making out lazily, only separating to whisper about everything and nothing. As tiredness catches up with them, their giggles become softer and softer, until they only exchange exhausted but content smiles. Neither of them wants the night to end. Looking back at their date, Nick realises it’s been one of the best evenings he’s ever had despite all the things that went wrong. It’s been truly perfect in its own flawed way. Just like him and Charlie. They don’t make sense on paper, and yet… 

Nick doesn’t plan on staying, but around 3 a.m., they inadvertently fall asleep in each other's arms. They're woken up a blissful nine hours later when Tao's cries of surprise pierce through the quiet.