Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

        Nick Nelson would have been lying if he’d said he hadn’t been nervous to return to Leeds for University.

He’d spent the summer back in Croydon, with his mom and his dogs that he always misses with a terrible ache in the center of his chest during his school terms when he’s ripped away from them. The summer hadn’t been like others, where Nick busied himself with partying and relaxing. The summer had been quiet, the kind of quiet Nick needed after all the noise that had been the last three months of his spring term.

They hadn’t done much, and that alone had been everything to Nick. They’d watch films almost every night, all of them -- Sarah, Nellie (their gorgeous border collie), and Nick – cuddled on Sarah’s couch that created such a safe, warm space for Nick that felt so much like home. During the day, they’d spend the hours of sunlight strolling the town. Eating and shopping. They distracted themselves with delicious food and buying things they didn’t really need but just liked enough to buy anyway. On some days, when they felt like doing something that felt like summer, they’d take Nellie and themselves to the beach where Nick was careful to lather up on sunscreen, so he didn’t end up like a lobster afterwards. They’d sit in the sand, Sarah with a book in her hand, Nick with Nellie neatly tucked into his side, watching the waves crash into the shore in a repetitive pattern. He’d lose himself there at the beach. Letting his mind drift into nothingness.

In wasn’t all leisure all the time. Nick didn’t have that luxury. He still spent the summer practicing rugby, keeping up his shape. He ran, lifted weights at the gym, and went over drills on his own in a field with imaginary players that only existed in his head. He knew the importance of keeping his skills sharp, especially for his last year of Uni. He needed to be more impressive than ever this final year if he wanted to go pro. And going pro wasn’t so much a want, but a need. He needed to go pro.

 Even though rugby was still something Nick worried about over the summer, it’d been nice not having to worry about expectations set by anyone for himself but himself for a whole three months. His mom, unlike his dad, never put any pressure on him. She’s always been the spokesperson for “do what makes you happy, sweetheart. If you’re happy, then I am too.” And the best part about it is that Nick knows she means it. She’s never asked anything of him, except that he be a decent human being. And in that regard, Nick’s always tried to do right by her. The problem has always been that he’s also always tried to do right by his dad, who definitely has a mountain pile of expectations for him. Especially when it comes to rugby and his future in the sport. Luckily for Nick, his dad had his hands full with David during the summer. David, his older brother who’d already joined professional rugby, and had much bigger expectations set for him by their dad because of it.

His dad barely called during summer. Which, as sad of a reality it was, Nick found himself very grateful for. However, whenever he did call, and Nick felt compelled to answer (which was every time) he made sure to remind Nick about those expectations he set for him. Without fail, Nick’s dad would bring it up every time they did talk on the phone during the last three months.

         “Don’t forget your responsibilities, Nick. Go back to Uni and focus.”

         And Nick knew what he meant by those words. He meant “Stay focused on rugby. And only rugby. Don’t humiliate me again by getting caught kissing another boy. Because I will not have and do not want a gay son.’

         Even after everything that happened in the middle of last term, Nick and his dad never really talked about it. They talked about it, but they also… didn’t. They talked about how Nick was throwing away his future, about how he needed to get the situation under control as soon as possible so he didn’t. But they never talked about the situation itself. It was like his dad could not, and would not, even entertain the idea of his son being even remotely into men. When the video spread, and word inevitably got back to his dad – because anything that happened in rugby, especially when it came to Nick and David got back to their dad – all his dad told him was to rectify the situation. Immediately. He didn’t ask Nick why the video had even been captured in the first place, who the boy in the video was, or what it meant about Nick. His own son. He didn’t care. He wanted Nick to make out like it never happened. Like it meant nothing even if it did.  He wanted Nick to move past it and focus on playing his ass off in rugby. Whatever else it meant about his son, Nick’s dad couldn’t care less. If it wasn’t about rugby and Nick, or Nick and rugby, it didn’t matter to him.

         Nick did what his dad had expected of him. He tried to bury the video by ignoring it. By pretending he knew nothing about it. He tried to untangle all the parts of himself that were so tightly ribboned around Thomas by creating distance. Distance that Nick didn’t want but was forced to create anyway. And when Thomas eventually left Uni because the harassment he’d received from the video got to be too much, and Nick had been too much of a coward to stick by his side during it, it got even easier for Nick to pretend that chapter of his life had never even been written.

Even if Nick was breaking apart in all sorts of places, he kept himself perfectly together. All his seams that made him who he was stayed perfectly stitched. His dad’s voice in his head reminding Nick to keep it together making it possible. Even if it was all pretend. It was the best pretending he’d ever done.

He spent the last months of that term year on autopilot. He didn’t talk to people about himself. Even when his shitty and blatantly homophobic teammate Harry Greene asked on the day after the video was spread, and all his teammates had seen it, and Nick had called a meeting with them to try and clear whatever thick air had begun to fog their team’s comradery, “so, are you gay, then?”

Nick hadn’t answered. Well, he had. But it wasn’t a direct or elaborate answer. It was a half-truth, and one that Nick felt he needed to give to maintain the status q.

         He’d said, the flush spreading across his cheeks and chest and his skin’s pigmentation doing nothing to hide his discomfort and embarrassment at the shout of the question, “No. I’m not gay.”

         The room had fallen silent. And Harry had opened his mouth to ask another demeaning question at Nick’s expense when Sai spoke before Harry could.

         Sai, his other teammate and flat mate, and someone Nick had considered a friend up until that point but wasn’t sure if he could continue to after the video, said, “Honestly, who gives a fuck anyway? We’re here to play rugby and win. And Nick is the only reason why we’re good at either of those things.”

         “I agree,” Cristian, his other teammate and flat mate and considered friend, had piped up.

         “All this is doing is distracting us from what matters, which is winning the fucking championship,” Otis, another one of his teammates and flat mates and considered friends, had added, “so, can we refocus on that?”

         Nick had smiled at all of them, his heart suddenly feeling too large for his ribcage. It swelled at the idea that people who he had considered friends were actually just that. And from the looks of it, even to their knowledge of the video, they’d remain that. They were supporting him, despite what his sexuality might or might not be. They’d been there for him when he needed them the most. And they didn’t back down even when Harry rolled his eyes and looked completely unamused by their responses. They stood by Nick, smiling right back and nodding in a way that silently told Nick he didn’t have to answer to Harry or his prying questions. That to them, he was still just Nick. Their friend. Their flat mate. Their captain. Nick thanked them for it so much more fervently than he could put into words.

So, he didn’t put it into words. He didn’t put any of it into words. Even with their support, he didn’t talk about it. He just nodded in return, and never brought it up again.

Nick just felt like he couldn’t. Because if he did, if he faced what it meant, no amount of pretending would keep him together.

         He knew he wasn’t using the best coping mechanisms to deal with it all, but he was just surviving the best he could until he could get a break from Uni and everyone on campus who suddenly knew things about him that he was still processing himself.

         That’s why summer break creeping in on him had felt like breathing in fresh, new air into his lungs. He’d needed to step away, to regain clarity in his mind that he couldn’t find in the same hallways he’d found Thomas’ lips in. In the same study halls he’d found people whispering about him. In the same campus bars and restaurants that he’d found people oddly staring at him in. The summer break would help him truly, and properly, forget. And everyone else too, he hoped.

Not knowing whether people had or hadn’t was what had Nick so nervous going back to Leeds University. The summer had given him the peace and tranquility he’d needed after those last, odd, months of his spring term. But it wasn’t like it had washed away all the memories of it. And he wondered if it would be the same for everyone else too, and Nick would be returning to the same situation he’d left Uni in. He wasn’t sure he could bare it if he did.

  Unfortunately, time is something else that is entirely out of Nick’s control. It trickles on, even when we beg it to stop or slow down. Even when we want the minutes to pass by like hours, and the hours to pass by like days. They never do. Time sticks to its rules. So, summer came and went quicker than Nick was prepared for it to.

         Oh well, time said to Nick.

         Fuck off, Nick said back.

         It turned out, Nick hadn’t needed to be so nervous.

He returned to his same flat, the one in the nicer building on campus, with his same flat mates – Cristian, Otis, and Sai and things felt similar. They felt… normal. They’d all greeted him with hugs and a slap on the shoulder. The first night, they’d all ordered pizza and bought beers and sat around their living room sharing stories about their summer. Nick’s had been the most boring, which wasn’t how it usually went, but didn’t surprise him considering exactly how he’d spent the summer. Despite that, it had felt oddly like old times. Like the times before the video. Like the times before anything but rugby, having a good time, and getting pissed mattered. It had been nice.

         That was the first sign that things would be okay.

         The second was when Nick realized he was no longer getting odd looks from people in the study halls and his lectures. Last term, after the video spread around, it felt like people would look at Nick like he was a newly discovered species that they were all unsure how to approach. Now, he was getting very similar looks to the ones he’d gotten before the video. Looks he was used to. Girls ogling him during lectures, biting the tips of their pens and pencils in suggestive manners as their eyes met while their professors went on about something neither of them seemed to be paying attention to. Nick would raise a brow with a small smile on his lips, a silent question to test the waters. And whatever girl had been giving him the eyes would react exactly as they always did – shyly. Giggling to themselves, ducking their heads, and looking away, suddenly not feeling as brazen when Nick returned their glances.

The third sign that things would be okay, or at least back to normal, came when strangers, or people he’d had very limited interactions with, would scream out ‘hey, Nick!’ to him in the hallways, high fiving him as they walked by. When the video spread, people seemed to avoid Nick. Where people had once fought for his attention, it seemed no one longer wanted it after the video. Like people didn’t know how to approach him. But that desire form his attention had seemed to return, with people more than happy to seek it out again.

The fourth sign that Nick had been more worried that necessary was that whenever he heard about gossip from Imogen, his very loud, very nosy friend he’d met during a theater elective his first year in Uni, it seemed to be about what people did during the summer, and not what happened six months ago with Nick, Thomas, and the video. For a while after the video spread, Imogen would either stay silent around him or tell him that she didn’t want to share gossip with him. And Nick had known what both of those things meant. The campus gossip was all centered around him, and none of it was good or kind or things he wanted to hear about himself. Now, it seemed that was the last thing people cared to talk about.

The fifth and final sign that things were fine came during their second week of the term, when the rugby team got together for their first practice of the season. Nick had half expected people on the team to still not be able to meet his eye like they hadn’t once the video spread. He half expected for the same half of his team that had barely been able to play with him during their last term to return with the same attitude. But all his teammates, even Harry Greene, were eager to hear Nick’s plan and drills for them for the season. Everyone met his eye, everyone looked to him for guidance, and trusted him to take them to the championship again. Just like they had before they decided something about him was different.

Nick wasn’t sure if they’d changed their mind about that, or if they’d all simply forgotten about it all together the same way everyone else seemed to have.

         Nick knew he should have been finding all the signs that very little had changed comforting. That he should be relieved and happy. But three weeks into term, and his life molding itself back into a version he recognizes, Nick doesn’t feel comfort. Or relief. Or happy.

He doesn’t feel much of anything, really.

He feels very numb.

         Maybe it’s because, although it seems everyone else has forgotten – Nick has not.

         Nick still remembers all of it. And he remembers all of it. All. Too. Well.

         Because out of all the signs he’s gotten in the last three weeks that everything’s okay, that the world has moved on and Nick should too, there’s been one, unignorable sign, that things are not as okay as it seems. That Nick is not as okay as it seems. And he has not moved on. He’s reminded of it every time he sticks his key inside his doorknob and reaches to turn the knob. Because every time he does it, he pauses. His hand stays still on the knob for a few seconds before he snaps out of it and finally opens the door. Because for those few seconds that his hand stays stuck on his doorknob, he remembers. He remembers everything about that night. Like it happened days ago, not months ago.

         That’s another thing about time – it never stops moving, but sometimes it feels like it does anyway.

         He remembers being on a high, coming back home after his first time out at a gay bar with Thomas. Sweet, innocent Thomas whose smile shown light on the darkest of Nick’s days. He remembers how he discarded their one rule that one time because he was falling. He was free falling into the abyss of love, and a love he’d never experienced before because he’d never tapped into that side of himself. That side that liked men, and thought they were attractive, and dreamt about what they’d taste like on his tongue. What they’d feel like on his skin. Thomas had been his wildest fantasies come true. And so, Nick had discarded their one rule of not kissing or touching in public for just that one moment when he was too caught up in his high to think it would matter. He never thought it would have the consequences it had. That someone would be walking by the corridors of his building at that same moment and catch sight of them. Think so much of it that they’d reach for their phone and record them. The idea of something like that ever happening never crossed Nick’s mind.

So, on his high, Nick had pressed Thomas up against his flat’s door. On his high, he'd dug his hands into Thomas’ hips, feeling adrenaline as Thomas gasped into his mouth at the touch. On his high, Nick had kissed Thomas more passionately than he’d ever kissed anyone before. And Thomas had lost his hands in Nick’s hair, and they’d stayed like that for an entire two minutes. Two minutes that went from being theirs, to being everyone else’s. And ruining everything.

On his high, he didn’t turn the knob when he should’ve of. He hadn’t pushed them inside his flat to do those very same things to Thomas in the privacy and safety of Nick’s flat. Where no one could watch. Where no one could ruin it for them and turn a sweet moment into one filled with regret and shame.  

         Nick has tried to stop himself from thinking about it. But he fails each time he sticks his key in his door, whether to unlock it or lock it, and places his hand on the knob to turn it. He can’t stop the guilt he feels. The shame. The longing.

         It’s the only sign in the first three weeks of term that things are not okay. And out of all the other signs that show Nick things are, the one that proves things are not, seems to be the only sign Nick remains fixated on.  

         Amaya moves her hips slowly on top of him. Her tan skin is glowing with a thin sheen of sweat as she does. If Nick was more into this, he’d lean in and lick it off her chest, drag his tongue to the nape of her neck to suck at her pulse joint. But he’s really not that into it. He’s trying to be. He’s been trying since she showed up at his door, looking as beautiful as ever. But he hasn’t been able to get there. He used to be able to get there within seconds of feeling her skin on his hands. Now, it feels like even when he’s feeling all of her skin on his skin, the sparks can’t come to life.

 It’s not for a lack of Amaya’s looks. She’s attractive as hell. Small waist, nice ass, and perky tits that fit perfectly in the size of his hands, and bounce wonderfully when she’s riding him like she is now. Her tan skin contrasts beautifully with her dark, green eyes and long, dark hair that falls perfectly down her back in a cascade of waves. Back during his freshmen year in Uni, when they first got acquainted and started hooking up, Nick would have an insatiable hunger for her that he couldn’t get rid of until he was inside her.

It hadn’t even just been about her looks then. Her looks were what had grabbed his attention then, but it was her attitude that had made Nick’s attention stay. She didn’t react to Nick like other girls did, and he liked that. Nick had gotten attention from the moment he stepped foot in Leeds University. He didn’t brag about it, and he didn’t like to let it inflate his ego too much, but it was just a fact. And not one that he was oblivious to. Whether it was due to his name or his looks, girls threw themselves at Nick. During his first month in Uni, he’d had multiple girls beg him to take them home and fuck them senseless. For some guys, that would’ve been a turn on. For Nick, it just made him feel like a prize to be won. A trophy fuck, in the worst way possible. It didn’t turn him on.

         Amaya had been different. The first night they met at the campus bar, he’d walked up to her with his best Nick Nelson smile, having spotted her from across the bar and having his attention caught by her in a way that hadn’t happened until that moment. He’d offered to buy her a drink, and instead of melting under his attention, Amaya had eyed him suspiciously. She’d looked him up and down, a slight scowl on her face as she did. When her eyes finally came back up to meet Nick’s eyes, she looked unimpressed. Like he wasn’t anything to marvel over. For whatever self-deprecating reason, Nick had found that very, very hot.

         She’d shrugged, noncommittally, like she could care less whether he did or didn’t buy her a drink. So of course, that led to Nick paying for all her drinks that night. She’d only let him kiss her once he’d walked her back to her flat later in the night, when they were much more intoxicated, and she was a little more willing to let Nick touch her. She’d invited him in and pushed his heads between her legs. Nick had obliged, giving Amaya what she wanted. And she took it from him with greedy fingers and when he was sure she’d cum, she gave him nothing in return. Instead, she’d said, “you can leave now.”

         Nick found himself chasing after her for weeks until she finally gave in and let him fuck her. Nick wasn’t a creep. He hadn’t chased and broken her down until she agreed to let him fuck her. She had wanted to from the start, but she enjoyed the little dance they did. She enjoyed the chase. She enjoyed having the most desired bachelor on campus falling to her feet. Nick didn’t just assume this, she eventually admitted it to him after the first time they fucked and he felt slightly grossed out with himself, wondering if he was a creep. She’d quickly reassured him he was not.

         They continued with their charades for all of their freshmen year. They never asked each other for labels. Neither of them wanted it. Nick wanted to play rugby and have fun. He didn’t want to be tied down to a relationship, or the responsibilities that came with it. He had enough responsibilities with rugby and his studies, he didn’t need to add a girlfriend on top of it all. Amaya didn’t want to be tied down either. Nick didn’t know if it was the money, the pretty privilege, or a combination of both that made Amaya who she was. But who she was, was someone who loved being chased around by men. Just like Nick had chased her. They were like a collection of conquests for her. How many men could she make beg to taste her? To feel her? She loved the game. And more than that, she loved winning. The more men she had desiring her, falling to their knees for her, the more she felt like she was winning.

 So, they were hardly exclusive, but always found themselves falling back into each other’s beds anyway with a respectful, mutual, understanding that they didn’t belong to one another.

         The only lull in their sexual relationship came during their sophomore year, when Nick met Thomas and found that that the hunger he’d once felt for Amaya had finally been satiated. And a new hunger had manifested in the form of Thomas. Nick’s priorities changed, and suddenly, rugby and his studies weren’t the only responsibilities he could handle. Or the only ones he wanted to handle. Suddenly, a relationship – love – wasn’t so out of reach. But then the video happened, and things changed and went back to how they were just like that.

 Amaya was the first and only person Nick brought to his bed after Thomas, right before the end of the term. He was hoping that by doing that, he could go back to a version of himself that was comforted by much simpler things – like good sex. She hadn’t given up much of a fight when he propositioned her, and she hadn’t brought up the video either. Nick has never asked her whether she even saw it, though he’s sure she has.

They fucked rough that night. Nick had grabbed on to her, and thrusted in her, like the harder he did it, the more likely he was to feel the same kind of fullness he used to feel whenever they did have sex. Before Thomas. Before there was more. She’d enjoyed it, coming multiple times and actually complimenting Nick during sex which she didn’t do often – even when she enjoyed it to a formattable degree. But Nick. Well, Nick hadn’t enjoyed it as much as he’d wanted. He’d asked her to leave right after they were done and although it wasn’t like they cuddled or stayed the night after they had sex, he’d also never kicked her out so quickly after he came inside the condom while he was still inside her either. He’d thought it had bothered her, a look of irritation flashing across her features momentarily when he asked her to go. But Amaya being Amaya, quickly recomposed herself. She’d picked up her clothes and walked herself out without another look back at Nick.

         They didn’t talk for the entirety of the summer. Nick wasn’t sure they’d ever talk or touch again after that last time. But then he’d found himself in the same line at their campus café, standing right behind her as they both waited to order their coffee. And right there, in that line, Amaya had decided for them.

         “Getting your usual shit coffee order then?” she’d asked, without barely glancing back at him from where he stood behind her in line.

         “Nice to see you too, Amaya,” Nick had managed to choke out, trying his best to keep his voice casual and even and their banter normal and familiar.

         She’d look back at him then, an eyebrow quirked up and a small smile on her lips that would have looked like a frown to anyone who didn’t know her as well as Nick did.

         “I’m only happy to see you when you’re naked.”

         “Touché.”

         “In your dreams, Nelson.”

         Although she had been crass and crude, Nick had known what it meant. She’d left the door open for him. Nick hadn’t been sure in the moment whether he wanted to walk through that door again or not. But for the last three weeks, Nick has felt the tightening in his muscles worsen. He’s felt the testosterone levels in his body too high, even with his strict workout and practice regime. He’s felt the stress in his bones calcify. And he was starting to think that all that had something to do with the fact that he hasn’t had, or even thought about having, sex in the last three months.

         So, thinking he’d found a great solution, he’d texted Amaya. She’d responded about an hour later. And well, now here he is. Inside her, with no actual desire to be.

         Except – wait. It takes Nick several seconds as blinks himself back to the present to notice that he doesn’t feel her warmth around him anymore.

         He looks up and isn’t but also is surprised to see that Amaya’s not there anymore. She’s not on top of him any longer.

He looks around frantically, wondering how long he was blanked out for and how far she could’ve gotten, when he catches sight of her at the foot of his bed. She’s tying her hair up into a messy bun at the top of her, still fully naked. Nick hopes that means that it hasn’t been long since he blacked out, getting lost so far in his own mind that he didn’t notice exactly when they stopped having sex. Or more so, when she stopped having sex with him.

         He feels hot shame crawl up his chest and gnaw at his throat.

         Jesus, what kind of an asshole is so uninterested in sex with a girl he propositioned it takes him (probably) minutes to realize they’re not having sex anymore.

         He sits up, not knowing what exactly what to say.

         “Amaya,” is all that escapes his lips. It sounds needy and apologetic already, and instantly, he knows she’s only going to hate him more for it.

         She doesn’t look at him. She doesn’t answer him. She doesn’t react at all to him calling her name. She continues with what she’s doing, which looks a lot like she’s trying to get dressed.

         Amaya’s a tough person. She has thick skin and an almost impenetrable armor around her every emotion almost all the time. Nick learned that about her fairly quickly into them stumbling into bed together all those years ago. It was why they were so good at sleeping together and expecting nothing more from one another. But even someone like Amaya has to feel some sort of hurt, even if it’s just to her ego, to what Nick’s just done. And if her behavior is anything to go by, colder and more detached than usual, his guess is right.

         Fuck, Nick thinks to himself.

         He feels awful, but he has no idea how to make the situation better.

         He calls her name again. This time, hoping it doesn’t sound as pitiful as it did seconds before.

“Amaya,” he says as he scoots up the bed and tires to reach for her. But she gets up the moment his hand goes out. Like she’s worried that if he touches her, he’ll poison her.

         Nick sighs, long and exhausted, “Amaya, what happened? I—”

         “You’re not into it,” she answers quickly and coldly as she picks her clothes up off the floor and throws her shirt over her head. Getting dressed at an alarmingly fast pace.

         Nick doesn’t offer an immediate response. He’s still at a loss for words. Especially because she’s not wrong, though he wishes she was. He wishes he wanted her the way he used to. That things were simple they way they used to be before Thomas. Before the video. Before his life felt wildly unlike his own.

         “No, I’m just…” his voice trails off. Pathetically.

         Nick doesn’t know how to lie. It’s a flaw of his. He can say half-truths, but he can never say a full lie. Right now, he has no half-truth to give that can save him from the situation.

         “Not into it,” she finishes for him, as she jumps into her jeans.

         It’s quiet around them, just the sound of Amaya’s clothes covering her body again filling up space that feels thick with tension and disappointment. Nick can’t tell whose disappointment it is, but he’s pretty sure it’s both of theirs.

         He buries his face in his hands, not knowing what else to do. He’s frustrated and annoyed, even though he’s sure those emotions should only be reserved for Amaya right now. Despite that, he can’t help feeling them too.

         Nick just feels – he feels so unlike himself these days. But it feels like he’s the only one aware of that. He came back to Uni, and everyone is treating him like nothing ever happened. Like nothing about him changed. And maybe he should be grateful because he was so worried it’d be the opposite, but he’s not grateful. He’s angry. He feels dismissed. Unseen. Unheard. Uncared for. And worse than that, he feels alone. Like there’s no one he can even talk about what all of that feels like with.  

         “Look, Nick” Amaya says, and Nick removes his hands from his face to give her the decency to at least look her in the face after he’s likely made her feel like crumbled up piece of paper in the corner of his room when she’s speaking to him.

         When he looks at her, her face is unamused and neutral, as it usually is. But there’s a tightness in her eyes too, one that he knows he’s placed there. He wishes he could be the one to remove it too, but he can’t even make sense of himself. As much as Nick wishes he could, he’s fully aware then that he can’t help her.

         “I think you’re fully aware that I don’t care whether you want to fuck me or not. I’m not out of options. You know that as well as I do.”

         Nick does know that. But he also knows that even if that’s true, what he’s just done is still shitty.

“I’m so—” he goes to apologize, but she doesn’t let him finish.

         Speaking over him, Amaya spits out, “but don’t ask me here to fuck and then completely waste my time. I could’ve been doing other, better things.”

         “I’m sorry, I didn’t – I was into it. I just got lost there for a second,” he tries to explain, but Amaya looks truly unconvinced by his words. He can’t blame her. Even to his own ears, they sound rehearsed, practiced. Like someone reading off a script. There’s no sincerity behind them. And that’s likely because there really isn’t. He wanted to be into it. But he wasn’t. From the very start, Nick’s mind and body were not into it.

         She scoffs, “You were into it for like maybe the first five seconds. You’ve barely touched me since we started and had me doing all the work. And even then, you literally started going soft inside me.”

         Well, fuck.

         It’s worse than he thought.

         Nick doesn’t remember that part, but maybe that’s because his mind was so fully detached from his body while they were having sex. He believes her, even if he can’t recall it happening.

         Amaya huffs when Nick doesn’t have anything to say.

 “Like I said,” she says harshly, “I’m too hot and too in demand for this. So honestly, the next time you want to hit me up to come over for a fuck,” she glares at him, “don’t.”

         Nick searches every corner of his mind for words that might help make things right and comes up empty. But even if he could find something, anything to say, Amaya doesn’t give him the opportunity. She walks out on him a second later, not even bothering to look back as she slams the door shut.

         Nick winces at the sound. But not just the sound. His behavior. What just happened. All of it.

         He falls back on his bed with a load groan that doesn’t even hold half of the pent-up frustration he feels. Frustration he was hoping would dissolve the moment Amaya turned up at his door and looked at him with those fuckable eyes of hers. But he couldn’t even give her or himself that.

         “Fuck,” he says to no one.

         He lays there like that, one arm draped over his eyes as he tries to block out just how terrible he feels. As if his arm can shield more than just his eyes. Eventually, he removes his arm from his eyes and grabs for his phone to check the time and notices it’s still early, barely past eight. He’s meant to meet some of the rugby lads at the campus bar for ‘90s night.’ He’s not really looking forward to it, especially now, but there’s meant to be a loud DJ, good music, and Sai, Otis, and Cristian have been begging Nick for a fun night out since term started. Nick has been putting it off because he’s simply not had it in him. He thought after a good sex session with Amaya, he’d find it again. That desire to live and not merely exist. But that didn’t happen. And with the realization that it’s still so early because the sex lasted an embarrassingly short time, thanks to him, he feels even less enthusiastic about the whole thing.

         He contemplates just skipping the night all together. Showering and climbing into bed to attempt to sleep off the misery that keeps making its way into his bones, then slipping right into his soul. But then he thinks better of it, mainly because he’s already disappointed one person tonight. He doesn’t want to disappoint three others.

         Though it takes every single last drop of strength and willpower his body has left, Nick gets himself up from his bed and hops into the shower. It takes minimal effort to do that, since he’s already naked. In the shower, he tries to wipe off the shame, the guilt, and the filth he feels on his skin as he scrubs. He thinks maybe if he scrubs hard enough, he’ll scrub away everything that makes him who he currently is from his skin, and new skin will grow, turning him into someone else entirely. Someone that he’s actually proud to be.

         He stands underneath the hot water for an underminable amount of time. He just watches as the soap washes off his skin and flows into the drain, hoping it’s taking all the bad stuff with it. After his skin is starting to the burn from the heat of the water, he turns it off and steps out. He dries himself as slow as he can, trying to kill time, and dresses himself slowly too. He’s not wearing anything extravagant, so getting dressed takes a lot less time than he needs it to. His outfit for the night is simple. Just a white t-shirt and plain blue jeans that go a bit wide at the bottom. He bought those during the summer, during one of those shopping strolls with his mom, and putting them on makes him miss the summer even more than he already has been. Maybe he wasn’t healed then, but he felt a lot better than how he feels now. He pushes those thoughts to the side as he throws his denim jacket on as well, because although denim on denim is usually tacky, it's 90s night and he feels like it’s very 90s wardrobe.

He fixes his strawberry blonde hair – that he will always argue is not actually ginger – in the mirror, parting it like he always does and pushing it back, so it stays out of his eyes. It’s not hard to accomplish, since he got a cut just before term started so it’s not as long as it is when it does consistently and annoyingly fall into his eyes. He finishes getting ready by throwing on some cologne and clasping his favorite watch around his left wrist. It’s an omega and swatch collaboration one, with a brown leather band and an off-white, almost washed out, face. His dad gifted it to him when he was fifteen, and he had made rugby captain during secondary school. The youngest member of the team to ever make captain. His dad had been so proud of him then. It’s been a long time since Nick has made his dad that proud.

         He sighs, trying to release the disappointment he’s become to everyone around him in one breath, and reaches for his phone to check the time. Again, time has made it its mission to be Nick’s worst enemy. Only forty-five minutes have passed. It’s still another hour and some for 90s night to begin. Nick thinks about crawling into bed again, scrolling through social media until his eyes are bleeding with irritation from the light from his phone screen and his mind has gone blank with all the brain rotting material one can find on the internet. But then, something inside him says, ‘fuck it.’ He knows the bar is likely to be empty at this time, because the actual fun event isn’t mean to start until ten. But he thinks that maybe it isn’t the worst idea to have some drinks by himself at the bar. Try to forget how terrible his night has gone so far and try to wind himself up for a better night ahead.

         Without trying to overthink it Nick leaves his flat and starts making his way to the bar. It’s a path that he knows well since he’s walked it many, many, times during the last three years. So, he walks it absent-mindedly. The only thought that clouds his mind is texting Amaya a proper apology. He even reaches for his phone a couple of times, drafting up a text to her only to delete it right after. He doesn’t think she’d appreciate it. Amaya would think he’s pitying her in some way. And Amaya, being Amaya, would hate the idea of anyone, but especially Nick Nelson, feeling sorry for her. She’d send him to go fuck right off, and then probably block his number afterwards. And although he doubts he’ll ever text her again for the same reason he texted her tonight, he wouldn’t want that.

         But if he’s being honest with himself, Amaya’s reaction to an apology text from him is only half the reason he doesn’t send it. The other half is because he doesn’t even know what he’d say.

         Sorry for not being at all interested in fucking you even though I asked you if I could. It’s not you – I swear. You’re hot, and a good fuck but I simply can’t seem to care about that anymore. Because life’s been weird since the video came out and I’m trying not to let that get to me, because it seems like everyone else has forgotten. But I haven’t. I can’t.

Yeah, there’s no way he’s saying all that.

Even if it would feel good to talk about it with someone, anyone, he doesn’t think that Amaya is the right someone to break his silence over it with. She would probably have no idea what to say to him, and he wouldn’t blame her. Their relationship has always been founded on lust and a good time. Superficial things. Nothing that runs deeper than that. And Nick unloading all that on her would make it run much deeper than the depth their relationship is capable of handling. So, Nick doesn’t send out an apology text. He just makes a promise to himself that he won’t reach out to her for sex in the future. He’ll just stay back and hope that Amaya finds a new person to fuck regularly that can blow her mind the way she deserves. Because if tonight was any indication, that person isn’t Nick anymore. And one can never be too sure, but he has a strong inclination to believe it will never be him again.

Because the matter of the fact is that Nick’s changed. He changed the moment he met Thomas and let him in. He changed even more the moment that video was leaked. How he’s changed is still a mystery to him. But it’s one he’s going to have to uncover sooner or later.

But right now isn’t the time to do it, because before Nick knows it, he’s standing right in front of the double doors that lead into the campus bar. He walks in a bit slowly, not knowing what to expect since it’s just a little over nine and the main event is not meant to start for almost an hour. He peeks his head in through the doors as he walks in and takes in his surroundings. Dimly lit blue lights wash over the room, and Nick immediately notices that there’s quite a bit more people than he expected lounging about tables that are perfectly arranged all around the bar’s open floor. The only bright side to their being more people than Nick expected to find is that it’s noisy enough that people don’t really hear the opening and closing of the door as Nick enters. He’s grateful for that because he doesn’t really want to be spotted. He didn’t come earlier to the bar to socialize. He just wants to sit down with a drink in his hand and his thoughts to keep him company.

He walks into the room with his head ducked, and heads straight for the table-top bar. He tries to subtly look around the room to see if there’s another sitting on the tables that he recognizes and will likely come up to him for small talk. He’s slightly delighted to find that most of the faces making up the crowd are not ones Nick can pinpoint names to. Nick knows a lot of people on campus, so the fact the doesn’t know many of the people in the bar right now must mean that they’re all likely to be freshmen. Maybe there are some sophomores too that he’s just not met. Despite his popularity, he doesn’t know everyone on campus. It would be impossible for that to be true.

 He looks to the far end and dead center of the room, where almost everyone’s attention seems to be. There’s a stand-alone microphone, a chair, and a warm, yellow spotlight illuminating whoever is standing underneath it. At the moment, it happens to be a girl who can’t be over five foot tall, with vibrant red hair that she has pulled into two space buns. She’s wearing combat boots that go up to her knees, a leather skirt, and a crop top that’s leaving little to the imagination with a black choker necklace around her neck. She’s kind of fit, but has a very round, baby face that lets Nick know that even if he were into hooking up with strangers these days (if he can’t do it with Amaya, everyone else is doomed) she’s too young for him. Nick’s too busy taking in her appearance to notice she’s actually speaking too. Right into the microphone, a piece of paper in her hands as she does.

Nick wants to make out the words that are leaving her mouth at a certain pace and tone, but then he’s interrupted by the person behind the bar.

“Hello Nicholas,” the voice greets him. It’s a familiar voice that belongs to a friendly face. When Nick looks up, he’s not surprised to see Imogen standing there, an empty glass in her hand that she’s drying with a white towel. She’s wearing a black crop top that stops right before her belly button and high waisted denim shorts. Her hair has two thin braids on either side of her face, tied together by colorful rubber bands at the end and framing it nicely. He can tell instantly that she tried, with minimal effort, to dress up for 90s night.

He smiles at her, “Hi, Im. Didn’t know you were working tonight.”

“Wish I wasn’t so I could party with you guys for 90s night. That’s going to be very fun,” she says, setting the glass down on the bar top, “but alas. I am a slave to the system.”

Nick chuckles, “Aren’t we all?”

Imogen hums in response.

“What can I get you?” she asks him.

“Something strong,” he answers sincerely, hoping he doesn’t sound as desperate for it as he feels, “maybe a whiskey sour?”

Imogen wrinkles her nose at him, “this is still a campus bar, Nicholas. Don’t make me get fancy.”

“There’s barely anyone here, Im,” Nick fights back, “I promise when it actually starts getting crowded, I’ll ask for something low effort.”

She gives him a suspicious look and then rolls her eyes, which Nick knows means he’s got her. Imogen’s always had a bit of a sweet spot for Nick. During their freshmen year, he was sure she had a crush on him. He almost slept with her too, just to satisfy her crush and his desire to fuck her. His desire to fuck her was purely physical, because he found her attractive with her big, blue piercing eyes and gleeful smile. But then he thought better of it. Because Imogen was the kind of friend that could be a real friend, and he didn’t want to fuck that up by sleeping with her, amplifying her crush on him, and then breaking her heart by not being into her in the same way she was into him. It was one of Nick’s better decisions, since they’ve had a solid friendship since then and Imogen has thoroughly moved on.

“Fine,” she tells him, and then moves behind the bar to make Nick his not-very-fancy, but kind-of-fancy-for-a-campus-bar drink.

Nick looks back at crowd a moment later when he hears people snapping. He looks to where the spotlight is and sees the girl who had just been speaking bowing her head cutely, a bit bashful from the attention. Nick quirks an eyebrow, unaware of what’s just happened.

He turns to Imogen, who has her back to him as she makes his drink, “what’s this anyway? Why’re people snapping?”

Imogen laughs as she pours different types of liquors into his cup, “it’s slam poetry night. They do it every third Thursday of the month from eight thirty to the nine thirty,” she turns around, the cup that was empty moments ago now filled with a sloshy liquid that’s about to make Nick’s insides burn with something other than actual hurt, “it’s basically a bunch of freshmen lit majors coming ‘round and reading off their ‘poetry.’”

She makes air quotes around the word “poetry” with her one free hand, which lets Nick know she’s seemingly unimpressed by what she’s heard so far.

Nick laughs at her brashness, “that’s harsh, Im.”

She shrugs as she hands Nick his drink across the bar, placing a napkin underneath it before she sets it down, “not all of it is rubbish. Some of it is good. But God, these kids definitely think they’re far deeper than what they actually are.”

Nick takes the drink easily, raising it to his lips and looking at Imogen over the rim before he takes a sip, “thanks so much, by the way.”

 She waves him off like it was no big deal.

The taste is strong and sour and exactly what Nick is chasing tonight. He just wants something to drown out his conscious and subconscious thoughts and feelings, all of which he’s just tired of. The pressure of it feels bricks on his bones. For one night, he wants to let the alcohol take control, and he wants it to spiral him into a feeling of elatedness that he hasn’t felt in a long, long time.

He's about to compliment Imogen on her bartending skills, letting her know that the drink is good, when another voice booms through the microphone.

“Thank you, Emily,” the voice says, and Nick turns to find Mr. Johnson, a creative writing professor, speaking into the mic. Nick only knows him because he accidentally signed up for his course during sophomore year. He’d wanted out almost as soon as the term started. Mr. Johnson’s assignments took far more skill than someone with Nick’s writing abilities could handle. Eventually, because he is rugby king Nick Nelson, he was able to get out of it. But he doesn’t think Mr. Johnson ever quite forgave him for quitting dropping his course so quickly. Once, he’d picked up Thomas from that very same class during spring term, and Mr. Johnson had scowled at him from inside the lecture hall as Nick waited outside for Thomas. Judgement and disappointment in his eyes as he did.  

Mr. Johnson lets the snapping die out before he speaks again into the microphone, looking down only momentarily at the clipboard he has tucked under his armpit as he says, “please welcome Charlie Spring to the stage.”

The crowd snaps again, and Nick wonders why they don’t just clap, when he hears a commotion erupt on the far left of the room. It’s a group of people that Nick, once again, doesn’t recognize. He thinks he recognizes one of the girls that’s standing and hollering because she’s in his year. The only reason he’s not sure it’s who he’s thinking it is because this girl always has different colored hair – blue, purple, pink, and he’s sure he once saw her with green – so it makes it hard to be sure that it is her. Tonight, her hair is black, and cut right below her neck making her look unlike he’s ever seen her look before. But if it’s who he’s thinking it is, it’s the same girl that he has a faint memory of at one of his rugby games once, yelling to the other team how much they sucked. They formally met once in passing at a party, and Nick thinks he remembers her name being is Amy.

Nick’s eyes are focused on her, wondering whether she is that very same girl he thinks she is, until he looks over to the person who she’s coaxing out of their chair.

And it feels almost as if time stops, as if Nick could possess such a power, when his eyes land on the boy who is very clearly resisting Amy’s attempts at getting him up from his chair.

The boy is – well, if Nick was poet like some of the people currently around him proclaim to be he’d have a better word for it but all he can think is – breathtaking. He is simply, breathtakingly, a sight for sore eyes.

He has a head of dark curls, with each curl coiled so perfectly that it makes Nick want to tug at them. See just how perfectly they’d likely bounce back into place. His face is all sharp angles that could cut Nick, and he’d be glad to bleed at the opportunity of just getting to touch that face with his own bare hands. As the boy smiles at Amy, trying to get her to stop tugging at his arms, Nick sees dimples form on either side of the stranger’s cheeks. Dimples that he wishes he could poke, he could feel, and he could make appear over and over again. He has round, big eyes, that even under the dim blue lights, shine. Nick can’t tell what color they actually are, but they look deep and rich, and Nick finds himself waiting for the boy to step underneath the warm light so he can really see them. So he can really see all of him, actually.  

“Charlie Spring,” Mr. Johnson calls again into the microphone, and Nick hopes that it’s enough to get him up there. Because Nick is dying for a good look at him.

He’s full on staring but can’t help himself not to. He watches as Amy lets – who Nick assumes is – Charlie’s arms go. Charlie shakes his head, his smile falling just a bit from his face as he says something to Amy that Nick tries to make out from the comfortable distance. He thinks he says something like, ‘I can’t believe you’ but he’s too far away and it’s too dark for Nick to know for sure.

All Nick knows is that his eyes follow Charlie all the way as he walks through the tables, bowing his head as he walks by the people sat at them. Once he reaches the center of the room, Charlie shyly stands underneath the warm glow of the spotlight, and it shines on him like he was made to be underneath it. Perfectly. Enough for Nick to see so much more of him, and still, not enough. Because underneath the spotlight, where all of Charlie is exposed to Nick’s naked eye, he looks even more ethereal than Nick thought. Nick drinks him in like he’s the whiskey sour that Imogen just made for him. He’s wearing a fluffy blue jumper and black jeans that rip at the knees. He has classic, all white converse on and his eyes are a deeper shade of blue than Nick has ever seen it on anyone else and it makes him want to know all the thoughts behind them. Nick also notices that Charlie is a couple of inches shorter than Nick himself with a tiny frame and small waist that would make it easy for Nick to wrap one of his arms around and reach his front with.

At the full sight of Charlie, something inside Nick cracks open. It’s like he can feel it snap the moment it does. It’s something that Nick thought was dead and long forgotten. But he feels it, as he stares at Charlie underneath the warm light, resurrect itself.

Desire.

The very same one he needed to be feeling when he was having sex with Amaya but hasn’t felt since Thomas.

He can feel it for the stranger that looks around the room like he’s scared of everyone who’s looking right back at him and takes out a piece of paper from his back pocket.

Nick feels entranced as he watches Charlie unfold it in his tiny hands. Nick’s never cared for poetry before, but suddenly, he’s poetry’s biggest fan. Because he feels more anticipation for what words are about to escape Charlie’s beautiful, round mouth than he has felt for anything in months. Nick’s hanging on every word that’s about to leave Charlie’s mouth. He’s desperate to know what his voice sounds like. What words he’ll hear from it.

Charlie looks nervously around the room, his eyes darting around and not landing on anyone in particular. He clears his throat into the microphone and says, “hi everyone.”

Nick feels himself intake a sharp breath at the sound of Charlie’s voice because it’s as perfect as the rest of him seems to be. It’s soft and sweet, and Nick feels something in the shape of Charlie reach inside his chest and tug at the very same heart he was sure was done beating for anyone else.

“My name’s Charlie, um,” Charlie stammers, and it’s so adorable Nick can’t help the smile that takes over his face at the sight of this person, this stranger, flustered in front of him, “I know Mr. Johnson already – well. Okay.”

Charlie breathes in as some laughter is heard from the crowd. Nick hopes its kind laughter, and people are laughing because Charlie is effortlessly adorable and not because they’re making fun of him. Nick doesn’t have time to look around to inspect it though, because he’s too focused on Charlie’s face and the words he’s about to speak, too captivated by everything he is, to look away.

“Anyway,” Charlie says, “here’s a silly little thing I wrote. My friend, Amy, thought I should come up here and share it with you. I did not really agree with her. So, if it’s complete rubbish, please blame her and do not boo me.”

Another burst of laughter can be heard from people around the bar, and Nick’s own laughter is mingled in with it this time. He surprises himself, not having felt a genuine laughter erupt from his insides in the weeks that he’s returned to Leeds until just now.

Everything about what he’s feeling is unexpected. And it should scare Nick. Should scare him enough to send him running out the bar without looking back. Scare him enough to try to get as far away from Charlie as possible. But it’s having the opposite effect on him. Nick doesn’t want to run from Charlie. He wants to run towards him. He’s finding it difficult to stay in his chair and not walk right up to Charlie, take his face in his hands and ask, “where have you been?”

Charlie breathes and speaks again, keeping Nick put right where he is, “here we go.”

Charlie clears his throat again, and Nick feels his eyes boring into the boy under the spotlight as words begin tumbling out of his mouth.

“There are thorns where pedals should be.

And aches where peace should be found.

Try as I might, my tears only drop as a choke back a sob.

And never because I am graced by so much laughter that my tummy begins to hurt.

Because there are thorns where pedals should be.

And I often wonder if they will always remain.

And I fear that I know that they always will.

But maybe one day, when I least expect it, a tiny flower will start to grow on those very same thorns.

And there will be thorns where pedals should be, but there will be flowers too.

And tears won’t only fall when I choke back a sob, but also when I am laughing.

Throwing my head back in newfound bliss.

And peace will finally be found where ache used to be.”

As Charlie finishes, a tremble in his voice as he reads the last of his words, he looks up and his eyes immediately find Nick’s. When they’re eyes meet, Nick feels himself stop to breathe. He feels himself, the very same version made of up of parts he’s been keeping tucked away and hidden and repressed, exposed to this stranger. To this stranger that can somehow know him better than anyone else in his life does. That has somehow, and probably unknowingly, read every single one of his sentences out loud. Right to him. And for the first time in three weeks, and maybe even longer, maybe even months. Maybe even ever, Nick feels seen. Truly, and undeniably, seen. Not as a rugby prodigy. Or as an attractive man on campus that everyone wants a piece of. Not whatever else people have decided for him what and who he is. But seen, as the person Nick actually is. The person he wishes, with all his might, he could show everyone else he is.

In that one look they share, it feels like Charlie already knows who that is, without ever having said a single word to him.

Nick’s lips part. Why? He doesn’t know. Nothing escapes them because he doesn’t know what he’d say to Charlie even if he was within earshot, which he most certainly is not. But they part anyway like Nick has something to say. And he does. He has so much to say but no one idea how to say it. But the words stay stuck where they’re trapped, because at the moment that Nick’s lips part, Charlie looks away, breaking the contact like it never happened.

But Nick knows it did. The evidence is written on the sparks that one single moment of eye contact left trailing behind all his nerve endings.

People stand and snap, and Amy yells loudly for Charlie from her seat. Nick doesn’t stand, but he snaps along with the rest of the crowd. As silly as he finds the snapping opposed to good, old-fashioned clapping, there’s no way he can hold back from praising, in whatever way is appropriate, what he’s just heard.

Charlie ducks his head, bowing momentarily before stepping away from the spotlight. He looks extremely shy and uncomfortable as people praise him as he walks back to his seat. Nick watching him the whole time, unable to help himself. Secretly hoping that Charlie locks eyes with him once more. He continues to stare as Amy wraps Charlie in a hug, and Charlie hugs her back, suddenly facing in Nick’s direction as he does. That snaps Nick back into reality, and he tears his eyes away from Charlie no matter how much his body is begging him not to. No matter how hard it is to.

He remembers, suddenly, that there’s no point in anything he’s just felt. He can’t act upon it. This is just going to be another thing he’s forced to forget.

When he turns, he finds Imogen looking at him. She has a little smirk on her face, that is all too knowing for Nick’s comfort. He does his best to ignore it.

“Wow,” she whistles, “that was something.”

“Yeah,” Nick says, bringing his glass back up to his lips and taking a giant swig of his sour drink, avoiding Imogen’s gaze, “guess some of them are talented.”

“Hmm, sure seems like you thought that one was.”

Nick doesn’t ask her to elaborate. He doesn’t need her to. She doesn’t need to spell out for him that she noticed just how hard he was gazing at Charlie. His staring was so intense he’s sure that’s the only reason they even met eyes to begin with. Nick was probably burning Charlie up with his intense gaze, making it impossible for Charlie not to feel the sensation on his skin and look back at him.

Nick tells himself that’s the reason that their eyes met, and not for any other cosmic reason that might mean something beyond Nick’s comprehension. Something silly and impossible like maybe their eyes met because Charlie was made for him, because only someone that was somehow tied to him could speak the very same words that encompass Nick’s entire existence.

No, it couldn’t be that. It could never be that. Because the universe wouldn’t be so cruel as to make the one person Nick Nelson could never have the one person he needs the most.

So whatever funny thoughts Nick has swirling in his head, or whatever rampant emotions Nick can feel spreading across his chest, or however pretty Charlie Spring may be – none of it matters. Because Nick needs to focus on rugby. On his career. On making his father proud and happy with him again. And Charlie Spring will not be the reason any of those things happen. In fact, he would be the detriment to all of Nick’s plans if he lets him be.

Nick cannot, under any circumstances, let him be.

Chapter Text

         Charlie Spring would have been lying if he’d said he hadn’t been nervous to start at Leeds university.

         It was a long-awaited change, and one that Charlie felt he truly needed to make to feel alive again. But that didn’t mean that it was easy. Change is always hard, and for Charlie, change has always felt like vitriol being injected into his soul. It was why he’d maintained such bad habits for such a long time. Like, not eating to remain in control of the things that happened in his life. As if not having a French fry or an extra slice of pumpkin pie would mean that he’d be able to have a good day that day. Because if he did have the extra French fry or the extra slice of pumpkin pie, then bad things would happen, and the bad thoughts that he desperately tried to keep dormant in his mind would run rampant. Like an unsupervised child in a grocery store. Running up and down every isle of Charlie’s mind, knocking down items from the shelves and turning him into someone who was in complete decontrol of his emotions. It would be havoc if he allowed that to happen. If he allowed control to slip from him so easily.

But it turned out, not eating actually didn’t put Charlie be in control of his life.  And Charlie’s mind, which felt infected by dark thoughts, could not be remedied by how much he rationed and portioned his food. Even on his best days of making sure to count every single calorie he ingested, Charlie still felt like he simply wanted to stop existing. He still felt wildly out of control of his emotions, and he felt overwhelmed and drowned by the voices inside his mind that made Charlie hate himself. That self-hatred that felt like it grew more and more as time went on manifested itself in many ways. And it ruined him in many ways too. One of the ways it ruined him the most, was how it drove Charlie to accept love barb wired around abuse.

That abuse, that Charlie had confused for love, first came to be in a boy named Ben Hope. It had started out quietly, and unexpectedly. In the choir room on a sunny Tuesday afternoon. Charlie had just been accidentally outed in his all-boy secondary school. He’d been eating less and less, hoping that way he could stop people from whispering about him any time he as much as entered a room. Maybe that way, he could stop the year 11 bullies from shouting derogatory words at him during lunch or every time he passed them in the hallways. He was hiding away during lunch that sunny Tuesday afternoon, as he found himself doing more and more often. He was practicing playing drums when Ben Hope walked into the room. He was handsome in a picture-perfect kind of way and at the sight of him, Charlie’s stomach flipped. When he sat down right next to Charlie, his body touching Charlie’s carefully, he’d praised him about how brave he’d been for coming out. His words and their proximity made the lining of Charlie’s stomach became riddled with butterflies, flapping their wings and causing his breathing to become uneven. When Charlie tried to explain that it hadn’t necessarily been a choice, Ben had just spoken over him and told him how he wanted to know more about him. It was like he’d barely heard Charlie speaking although Charlie had spoken at a perfectly reasonable volume to be heard. That should have been the first warning sign that Ben Hope would not hold all the love Charlie so desperately craved to be given to him by someone else. Instead, Ben knocked their shoulders together, and gave Charlie his boyish smile, and Charlie reeled at the attention. He thought, “maybe this could be love.”

Things started out quiet and remained that way. Ben would only see Charlie right before form started or right after school ended. He made sure no one saw them together outside those windows of time. He would pass by Charlie in the school hallways and not even spare him a glance his way. He made sure he always controlled where and when they met up, when and how often they spoke. And even though Charlie’s best friends, Elle and Tao, tried to warn Charlie that something was not right in their dynamic, Charlie never listened. He didn’t want the fantasy to be ruined. He wanted to believe that Ben was his boyfriend, Charlie was loved, and everything would be okay. He let Ben take and take and take and give so little in return. A lot of the reason for that had to do with Charlie not believing he deserved any better. The voices in his head telling him he didn’t.

The more control Ben took from Charlie, the less Charlie began to eat. Three months into knowing Ben Hope, Charlie began to wither away. He became a shell of himself. And yet, he remained as he was.

It wasn’t until mid-way through his final year in secondary school that Charlie reached his breaking point.

It began when he attended the school formal with Elle and Tao, hoping he could sneak in a dance with Ben at some point. Ben, as usual, ignored Charlie in public. Where in private he kissed and touched Charlie all over, in public Ben pretended he was utterly unaware of Charlie’s existence. The school formal had been no different. Charlie had hung back, lurking around the corners and watching as Ben danced with other people, mainly girls. Charlie took it upon himself to drink all the alcohol he’d snuck in a flask as he continued to be ignored by the one person whose attention he wanted more than anything. As if it would numb the pain that he felt at having his fantasy bleed into his reality. The voices in his head fought against one another. The louder ones told him that what he and Ben had was as good as he could ever get, and the quieter ones that fought to be heard told him what they had was the furthest thing from love. Charlie was sure that he would be going home alone that night, to soak his pillow with tears that would feel like acid rain on his cheeks as he broke into sobs in the comfort of his room. But then Ben caught him in the parking lot. He didn’t say anything to Charlie. He just grabbed his hand, made sure no one was around, and pushed him against his car’s door. He’d kissed Charlie without saying a word, aggressively pushing his tongue past Charlie’s lips and opening Charlie’s mouth with his own with little care. The kiss was rough and fleeting. When he pulled away, he’d told Charlie to get in, and Charlie did, not knowing what for or where they’d be going. Ben didn’t say a word as he drove and Charlie didn’t dare break the silence, scared that if he did, he’d lose whatever moment Ben had just created for them.

When they pulled up to a cheap motel, Charlie and Ben still didn’t speak. Ben got out of the car and Charlie followed close behind him, unsure of what came next but feeling something in the pit of his stomach that made him nervous. But it wasn’t the good kind of nervous he’d felt all those months ago when Ben had caught him in the choir room. It was the bad kind of nervous, the kind that made him feel like something was amiss. Charlie pushed it down anyway.

The moment they stepped into the room, and Ben locked the door, Charlie felt suffocated. But even though he felt like leaving the moment they arrived, he didn’t say anything. He let Ben take control, like he always did. He let Ben push him onto the bed and start undressing him just as roughly as he was kissing him. Charlie felt his nerves double as he realized where Ben was headed, what he wanted to do. Charlie tried to voice his concerns so many times, but the words always got stuck in his throat. Never making their way out. He laid stiffly as Ben touched him and moved him like Charlie was a puppet and Ben was a puppet master. Ben never asked Charlie a single question that night. It was as if all he cared about was what he wanted, and Charlie was just there to make sure he got just that.

It wasn’t until Ben flipped Charlie over like a rag doll, and Charlie heard Ben rip a condom open with mouth, that the panic really started to set in. Even if the voices in his head told Charlie that he needed to take what he could get, Charlie’s heart told him otherwise. His heart begged him to say what he wanted, to stop it all, because this wasn’t the way his first time was meant to go. He deserved a first time that was both sweet and meaningful, and nothing about what Ben was doing was either of those things. Charlie tried so hard to say the words. He’d tried with all his might. He’d tried to mutter up a ‘no’ as Ben began to push into him. But the word fell on his tongue and dissolved before it could escape his lips, and Charlie had just laid there. Letting Ben buck his hips roughly into him as Charlie gripped onto the sheets in pain, taking yet another piece of Charlie all for himself.

Charlie didn’t think things could get worse after that. Until they did.

Charlie had gone to look for Ben, feeling ready to talk through what had happened the night before, and how Charlie felt mistreated in more ways than one by Ben. He thought that would have made him feel better, as he’d never felt as low as he had the next day. But when he’d found Ben, he overheard him speaking to his year 11 friends about Charlie.

“I feel like that gay year 10 was following you around all night, mate,” one of the boys had said.

Charlie had heard Ben laugh manically, “that little fag? God, what a pathetic thing. I’m sure he wanted to suck my dick or something but as if I’d ever let that weirdo near me. Not even if I was the last man on Earth, mate and I couldn’t find another warm hole.”

There’d been nothing but malice in his words. He’d taken something from Charlie that Charlie would and could never get back, and he hadn’t done it with even an ounce of kindness.

Charlie came home that day with tears streaking down his face and the will to live leaving his body entirely. He felt that no amount of food rationing could ever make him things better. Ben would never love him. No one would. Because Charlie was broken, and the voices were right – he’d never be happy. He just wanted all of the pain to stop and he felt the only way to achieve that was to become nothing. To become no one.

Tori had found him on the bathroom floor fifteen minutes later. The doctors said that if she’d found him even two minutes after that, Charlie would’ve achieved what he’d set out to do when he downed a bottle of pills.

Charlie woke up in a hospital bed, remembering very little about how he’d ended up there. That was when Jane, Charlie’s overbearing and controlling mother, had come up to his side. She’d taken his hand in hers and looked at him with eyes she’d never looked at him with. And Charlie knew that she could finally, finally, see him. Truly see him. Him and all his broken pieces of that she had also played a hand in. They decided together it was time to glue Charlie back together again.

Charlie didn’t leave the hospital for the rest of the school year.

By the time he finished year 10, his graduation party had a guest list of exactly nine people.

His mom, his dad, his little brother Olly, his older sister Tori, Elle, Tao, Isaac (a friend he’d made during his inpatient stay), and his therapist, Geoff (who remained his therapist even after he was discharged).

His inpatient stay had helped Charlie immensely. He wasn’t the same person he’d been when he was admitted once he was discharged. But Geoff had warned him that mental illness was not that something that easily went away, if ever. That Charlie would probably have scars all over him that no one else would be able to see, but he’d still be able to feel every day, for the rest of his life. So, Charlie had left the hospital still fragile, and still rebuilding. He continued with therapy, and he continued trying to use the tools he learned from therapy to repair himself, piece by piece.

He couldn’t return to school. Going back to the same hallways that Ben had once walked, that the bullies had once tortured him in, was still too much for Charlie to handle. Jane had agreed for Charlie to remain homeschooled. She’d changed too. She wasn’t the same mother she’d been before Charlie tried to take his own life. Suddenly, she was caring, and nurturing, and did her best to be understanding. It was as if she felt that Charlie’s life could be gone in any given moment’s time, when she least expected it, and she could not bear for that to be true.

Once it was time for Charlie to go to Uni, Charlie had choices to make. Jane didn’t outright say it, but Charlie knew that she was scared if he went somewhere that wasn’t within arm’s reach, Charlie would slip right through her grip. And she’d lose him again. That time, forever. Charlie couldn’t deny that he was scared of the same thing. He still wasn’t a fan of change, and Kent was home. It was familiar, even if it held memories that he tried hard to erase. It also held memories he wanted to keep. Kent was where he had Elle and Tao, his two best friends since primary school who had never left his side. Even during the lowest times of his life, they were there to pick him up. It was where he could take Olly to the park, only a five-minute walk from their childhood home, and they’d spend the afternoons with Olly using all his energy and Charlie feeling cured by the end of it. It was where he could play Mario-Kart with Tori on their couch, as she tried to find creative ways to get Charlie to lose (and never succeeding).

Kent was safe. It was what he knew. And Charlie needed every little bit of good and safe to keep those voices in his mind dormant and quiet. So, he stayed.

His first year at Kent University had been fine. Really, it had been. There’d been so many familiar faces, and everything felt recognizable to Charlie. Nothing felt new. And at first, Charlie found comfort in that. He thought that was what he would need to keep himself on the road of recovery, not straying and spiraling into old and dangerous habits. But as time went on, and Charlie continued down that road to recovery, he realized he wasn’t content with things being ‘just fine’ anymore. He wasn’t okay with just being comfortable. For the first time in his life, Charlie felt ready for change. He’d done all the healing that he could do in Kent. In the comfort and safety that Kent had provided for him, he’d found himself again. But Charlie was ready for what came next. What other version of him he could become. He felt that outside of Kent, maybe Charlie could discover what the version was. He could fall in love, actual love for the first time in his life. He could make new friends that would introduce him to new hobbies he’d otherwise wouldn’t know he could enjoy. He could take on new challenges, new experiences. Charlie had pieced himself back together in Kent, but he was ready to reinvent himself elsewhere.

The conversation with Jane had been tough. They’d slipped back into old habits of arguing loudly with one another, neither seeing the other’s perspective on the situation. But after a couple of hours after they’d yelled in each other’s faces, Jane had quietly snuck into Charlie’s room and apologized.

“I know how far you’ve come, Charlie,” she’d said, her voice trembling with emotion, “I’m just… worried. But if you think this will be good for you, I’ll support you.”

“Thank you, mom,” Charlie had replied, and then they’d hugged, and everything felt like it would be okay again.

The process to transfer universities went more seamlessly than Charlie could have imagined. He had been in between Leeds University and Birmingham, but then Elle connected him with a friend she’d met at one of her many art exhibitions – Amy. Amy had fire red hair and spoke brashly. She was free spirited and direct. She was in her final year at Leeds University, and she offered Charlie two things: a chance to live in a housing situation that wasn’t, in her words, “complete filth like most of the first years are given but no choice to live in,” and a chance to, in her words again, “really have a grand old fucking time.”

Charlie thought he’d do good with both her offerings. So, by the time summer rolled around, Charlie was meant to start the fall in Leeds University, rooming with Amy and her other roommate since their freshman year, Jess. He was excited and nervous at the same time.

That summer in Kent, Charlie focused on spending as much time as he could with his loved ones. He’d cook dinners with Jane almost every night, something that had bonded them when he was first recovering from his eating disorders. He’d hang out with Tori and her boyfriend Michael almost every evening before the wandered off on their own, just talking about life and drinking cups of wine. He did film nights with Toa and Elle as much as he could and visited the library more times than he could count with Isaac, reading more books that summer than he ever had before. His weekly meetings with Geoff turned into biweekly meetings and by the end of the summer, Geoff reduced their meetings to once a month. As the summer came to an end, Charlie was in a very, very good place.

Unfortunately, as summer ended, the realities of the fall and all the changes Charlie was about to endure began to kick his nerves about the whole thing into overdrive. The more cynical part of Charlie made him doubt himself about whether he’d made the right decision. He was worried that without the safety blanket of home and familiarity, he’d spiral into a version of himself he never wanted to become again.

Old Charlie would have let the thoughts fester inside his own mind until they infected all of it and he did spiral. New Charlie voiced his concerns out loud to others. He told Elle and Tao, during their final film night for the foreseeable future how he was actually feeling when they’d asked.

“I’m just a little bit scared,” Charlie had said, “that maybe this wasn’t… the right decision. Maybe I’m not as ready as I thought I was.”

Elle had quickly come to his side, pulling Charlie into her arms as she rubbed a gentle hand up and down in his back, “Charlie, no one is ever one hundred percent ready for change. Change is always a little bit uncomfortable but that’s the point. No one grows if they stay comfortable. That’s why it’s called growing pains.”

“Exactly,” Toa had said, “it might feel a little or a lot weird at first, but then you’ll be more used to it. It won’t feel so new and so unknown. Besides,” he came to take a seat on Charlie’s other side, “if you really don’t think you like it, you could always come back. Kent will always be here. And so will we.”

Charlie hadn’t meant to, but at the unwavering support of his most solid friends, he’d cried. But letting it out felt good, and he’d needed the reminder that he was more capable of adapting to change than he gave himself credit for. And that if things didn’t turn out like he’d planned, Charlie would always have the option of coming back home.

He was still nervous as ever the first day he arrived on campus. Leeds University was twice the size of Kent University and held twice as many people. All of which were strangers to Charlie. Jane and Tori had driven him on the first day and helped him bring in all his (three) boxes into Amy and Jess’ living space. They lived on one of the nicer housing buildings on campus, usually reserved for third years. Amy had greeted him with a smirk and a messy head bun and Jess had introduced herself with a handshake and a shy smile.

Jane and Tori left shortly after they arrived, and to Charlie’s surprised, Jane had seemed fairly relaxed by the time they went. She hadn’t looked at Charlie with the same eyes she had so many times before. Eyes that held worries about Charlie’s ability, or inability, to keep himself together. She looked at him confidently, like she was sure that even though they’d be miles apart, he could. It made Charlie’s heart ache, but it also gave him hope that she was right. That he could do it, even on his own.  

As Charlie settled in his new room, Amy had asked Charlie if he needed any help unboxing his things, but Charlie had told her it was okay. Organizing his room was something he wanted to do on his own. By the time he was done arranging his things the way he wanted them, something inside Charlie’s chest swelled.

It felt a lot like hope.

Hope for something greater. Hope for the life he was looking to create for himself in Leeds.

Amy wasted no time fulfilling the promises she’d made to Charlie. Amy had done exactly as she’d said she would and had taken Charlie under wing in just the first three weeks of him being there. She dragged him everywhere with her. She gave him a grand tour of the campus, or as much of it as she could. She showed him where the best restaurants were, where the campus bar was, where the best study halls were and where the school’s library was so he could get some peace and quiet when he wanted to study somewhere that wasn’t the confined space of his bedroom. She showed him the best routes to get to his lectures and gave him the scoop on all his professors. She introduced him to everyone who stopped to speak with her, which was quite a few bits of people. She made sure to take him to all her social gatherings whenever she had one. And best of all, she and Jess had introduced Charlie to the LGBTQ+ Society club on campus that they were both a part of. It wasn’t a club filled with many members. It was made up of a few thirty or so people. But it was unlike anything Charlie had ever been a part of. Charlie had never felt more understood, more a part of something, than when he stood in during their club’s meeting, deciding whether or not he’d wanted to join. By the end of it, he was a member and looking forward to getting to know other people in the club more intimately.

About two and half weeks into term, Charlie was getting the opportunity to do just that. It was one of the LGBTQ+ society club’s members birthday – Darcy – and her girlfriend – Tara – had planned a night out for them and anyone who wanted to join at one of the queer bars in town – ‘The Boozy Barebacks.’ Charlie had met them briefly during the first time Jess and Amy had brought him to one of their meetings. They were a bit of an odd pair, with Darcy seeming overtly extroverted and silly and Tara seeming more grounded and a bit more serious by nature. During that same meeting where they’d all been introduced by Amy, Darcy had swung an arm around Charlie, her blonde hair tickling Charlie’s shoulder as she did, and said, “another gay! We need more gays here.” Tara had quickly excused her, and asked Charlie what he was studying. They were both pleasantly surprised to find that they were both English lit majors. She told Charlie that he should come to one of the campus’ poetry nights in the campus bar, held every third Thursday of the month. At her suggestion, Darcy had exaggeratedly yawned, like it was the most boring thing to invite Charlie to. Then Tara had elbowed Darcy in the ribs where she’d, again, exaggeratedly bent over like she was in excruciating pain.

“Stop being a tit,” Tara had warned Darcy, “because you come to every poetry night that I’m performing.”

Darcy had relented, “yes, yes but that’s because I love you. Charlie does not love you. He doesn’t need to endure such pretentious torture.”

Darcy had rolled her eyes and waved her off, something Charlie felt she probably did often, and said to Charlie, “I promise you it’s something worth checking out if you love writing as much as I think you do.”

Charlie had made a mental note of it, because Tara was right in her assumption – Charlie truly loved writing. He had a journal filled with his scribbles. He’d found it rather therapeutic to write down his thoughts, his feelings. It was an exercise Geoff had shared with him during his inpatient stay at the hospital, but it was an exercise that turned into a hobby for Charlie. He doubted he’d ever have the guts to perform any of his writings on stage, but he would love to see and hear others’ words. People’s words and stories had a way of bringing people together. It was like music, without the extra stuff. He’d also made a mental note to get to know both of them more. He felt there were things both Darcy and Tara could teach him and after all, that was what Charlie had come to Leeds for. For reinvention.

Charlie’s biggest hesitation at accepting Tara’s invite was that he had never been to a gay bar before. Kent’s LGBTQ+ inclusivity wasn’t very, well – inclusive. There wasn’t much of a LGBTQ+ scene in Kent, or any LBGTQ+ establishments for Charlie to have had visited. Charlie’s reason for his hesitation turned out to be Amy’s biggest motivator to get Charlie to go. At the discovery that he’d never been to a gay bar before, Amy insisted that Charlie had to go. The problem with Amy is that she’s not very good at being told ‘no.’

 So, Charlie had agreed to go. Mainly because Amy was annoyingly persistent, but also because he’d come to Leeds to step out of his comfort zone and experience life differently.

That evening, Charlie waited outside their flat’s door as Jess and Amy scrambled to finish getting ready inside. They were both running a bit behind, as they crammed into one bathroom despite each having their own to get ready. It was the first time Charlie began to suspect something other than platonic was going on in between them. He told himself he’d make sure to ask Amy about it as some point in the night.

As he stood up idly outside their flat, leaning against one of the pillars around their hallway and scrolling through his phone, he heard a jingling of keys nearby that caught his attention. At that point, Charlie really hadn’t met any of their neighbors. Amy had explained to him that as seniors, they all had wildly different schedules. And social lives. Feeling curious as to who was in the same building as them, Charlie poked his head around the pillar. He was caught off guard by the person he saw standing a few feet away from him. Because the person was a man, and that man, was the most attractive person Charlie had ever seen.

Charlie couldn’t stop himself from staring at the stranger that seemed to pause, his keys in the lock and his hand on the doorknob. The man, who seemed temporarily frozen in time, was wearing a very tight tank top and grey joggers. The tank top hid nothing from view, and Charlie could make out every curvature of muscle underneath it. His exposed and bare arms were strong and just as muscular as what Charlie imagined his chest and stomach were. His legs were thick too, the joggers barely fitting as loosely as Charlie imagined they were intended to fit. His hair, the color of what reminded Charlie of auburn leaves falling down Kent’s trees during the fall, was wet and pushed back. He had pale skin, and even from as far as Charlie stood from him, he could tell the stranger’s skin was littered with freckles that matched the same color of the man’s full head of hair. From his side profile, Charlie could make out a perfectly round nose and plump lips. He was taller than Charlie, maybe a few inches or so. The last thing Charlie noticed about the stranger was that he had a gym bag slung over his shoulder which, coupled along with his physique, told Charlie he had to be some sort of athlete.

As the man stood there, his hand still on the knob but not making an attempt to turn it just yet, Charlie kept wishing he would turn his face towards him. Just so Charlie could catch a full glimpse of it. Because Charlie was sure he was gorgeous. Greek God kind of gorgeous that Charlie had never, ever, witnessed in real life before. But just as Charlie was preparing to take a better look, Amy and Jess stumbled out of their flat. Very loudly. Well, Amy was loud – in usual Amy fashion.

That seemed to have startled the stranger, who looked over his shoulder briefly at the commotion. At the idea of being caught staring like a creep, Charlie hid behind the pillar again, out of the stranger’s line of sight.

“Alrighty, lezys and gays, let’s go!” Amy shouted excitedly. Her voice echoed around the building’s halls, bouncing off the walls. Charlie cringed at the idea of the stranger having heard her. So, he looked back to see if he was still standing outside his flat’s door and looking their way. But when Charlie peered around the pillar, the stranger was gone, likely back into his own flat.

Charlie didn’t mention it until they were at the very end of the campus trail, waiting for their Uber to pick them up.

“Do you know who our neighbor across the hallway to the left of us is?” he’d asked timidly, hoping his voice didn’t give away how eager he was for Amy and Jess’ answers to be ‘yes.’

“Uh,” Jess had said.

Amy looked at him with an eyebrow raised, “I definitely don’t, creepily, know each of my neighbors like that. You’ve got a description or something?”

Charlie felt his cheeks flush with heat, “he’s… fit. Like, really fit. Tall, auburn hair. Muscles.”

Charlie felt hot at how he was describing the stranger, but he truly had no better words for it. He could’ve said beautiful. Gorgeous. All of Charlie’s wettest dreams come true but he was sure Amy would never let him live it down if he did.

Amy had looked at Charlie with a pinched expression, clearly at a loss to who on Earth Charlie could have been talking about. Charlie was about to tell her to forget it when a look of realization came across her features.

“Oh! Oh,” she’d repeated, “you mean Nick Nelson. Jess, did you know Nick returned to our building?”

Jess had looked unaware of the information, and shrugged, “I hadn’t noticed, no. I haven’t seen him but then again, we don’t regularly see him.”

All the while, Charlie had the strangers name replaying over and over again in his mind.

Nick Nelson. Nick Nelson. Nick Nelson.

Amy had turned back to Charlie, “you think he’s fit, huh?”

Charlie’s cheeks were going to remain a permanent shade of red if they kept this up.

“You have eyes,” he’d said, “you know he is.”

Amy had shrugged like she couldn’t be bothered by the fact, “he’s attractive, I guess. In a very conventional kind of way.”

Charlie couldn’t necessarily argue that, but he also couldn’t see how it made a difference. Nick Nelson was the most attractive person he’d ever seen, conventional looks or not.

Amy had sighed, “I guess he came back to the same flat as last year, though, I didn’t expect he would after everything that happened.”

Charlie was curious now. Clearly, Nick Nelson was a someone.

“What'd you mean?”

Amy had looked at Charlie like she was contemplating whether she should tell him what she knew or not. Charlie was prepared to beg for any scraps of information on Nick Nelson she’d offer him.

Turned out, he didn’t need to beg.

“I’m not into gossiping about people’s personal lives so I can’t tell you the full details or anything,” Amy had said, “but last year someone took a video of him kissing some boy named Thomas right outside our very same hallway. And it spread around campus because people are assholes, and shit got weird.”

Charlie had known what Amy was telling him as awful. It was an awful invasion of privacy that he was sure Nick didn’t deserve because seldom people deserved that. But he’d also felt something else entirely. He felt a bit giddy – giddy with the idea that Nick Nelson could potentially, have a romantic interest in him because he could, theoretically, be gay.

“I – well, that sounds awful. But he’s… gay?” Charlie couldn’t help but ask the question.

Amy gave him a smirk that told him she knew exactly what he was getting at.

“I don’t have that piece of information for you, Charles. Unfortunately, no one does. Before that Nick only had a reputation for sleeping with women. And a lot of them, from what I heard.”

“Didn’t he have a whole thing with Amaya Rodriguez?” Jess had asked Amy.

Amy had shivered at the mention of the name, “Oh God, yeah. That bitch. Sorry, I don’t go around calling women derogatory slurs, but that girl thinks she’s the hottest shit to exist. She thinks she’s doing the sun’s job, that’s how fucking fat that head of hers is.”

Charlie had been trying to remain focused, paint a clear picture in his head as to who Nick was and whether or not Charlie had any chance with him, but they kept diverting.

Jess had laughed at Amy’s little outburst, “she is hot though.”

Amy had glared at her, “shut up.”

“I don’t think I’m following,” Charlie had said.

Amy looked at him again, seeming bored with the conversation at large.

“Let me simplify it for you. Nick’s dad is like, a rugby legend, so Nick’s rugby royalty from what I understand, and I understand shit all about sports so let that tell you what it needs to. He’s the captain of the team, was regularly fucking one of the hottest,” Amy voice had done something funny when she mentioned Amaya again, “on campus, and has never been a part of anything queer as far as I’ve known. And I know everything gay on campus. I don’t know what the deal with the video was, but no one’s even brought it up again. So, long story short – I wouldn’t go there. Seems complicated and why waste your time on complicated when you can have fun?”

Charlie had dropped it then. Not only because he didn’t quite know what to say to Amy’s explanation, but also because their Uber had arrived right at the nick of time. The rest of the night, Charlie had tried to push thoughts about Nick out of his mind. He wanted to enjoy his first time in a gay bar without thinking about someone who seemed exactly how Amy had described them – complicated. But he couldn’t stop but wondering what the gaps in Amy’s knowledge of Nick were. Clearly, there was a lot about him that people knew, and a lot about him that people didn’t. Charlie was far more interested about the parts of Nick that people had yet to uncover.

He tried to remind himself why he’d gone to Leeds. And it wasn’t to get roped into something that could cause him more harm than good. So, that night at the gay bar, Charlie did his best to stop his interest from peaking. He took in the lively atmosphere, the wonderful strobe of lights that colored everyone in different kaleidoscopes of colors. He’d never been to a place filled with so many people who were alike and unlike him at the same time. The bar had been freeing in a way that wondering about Nick Nelson wasn’t. After one too many drinks, and a lot of dancing, Charlie had ended the night doing something he’d never really done before. He ended the night pressed up against one of the bar’s walls, a stranger’s hand on his hips and a stranger’s tongue in his mouth. And Charlie had enjoyed it, even if when he ran his hand through the stranger’s honey brown hair, he imagined running his hand through a darker, aurburn shade instead.

What could he say? Charlie’s curiosity has never been good at putting out the fires it starts.

But it turned out Charlie never had to be so nervous to come to Leeds. It was all turning out well.

It’s the third Thursday of the month, and Charlie is in his bedroom getting ready to attend his first slam poetry night, when his phone dings on his nightstand. He goes to check what the notification is and finds it’s a text from Daniel.

Daniel is the guy he met about a week and a half ago at The Boozy Barebacks, who he’d spent most of his night dancing and kissing with. At the end of the night, he hadn’t invited Daniel back to their shared flat. Mainly because it was a bit awkward for Charlie to do that with roommates but also because that’s just not a thing Charlie’s used to. As unfortunate as it may be, Charlie’s list of sexual experiences starts and ends with Ben. After Ben, it took Charlie a long time to even be comfortable to think about having that kind of intimacy with someone again. Once he was ready, gotten over the trauma that the experience with Ben had left with him, there was no one experience that intimacy with. Kent is a small town, filled with not many openly gay people. Charlie wasn’t really left with many options. So, that’s left him with not knowing if he’s even the kind of person who even can do it – who can engage in random, meaningless, sex. A part of him thinks he isn’t, that he’s always been and always will be a bit of a hopeless romantic, even when it comes to sex.

He opens the text anyway, intrigued as to what Daniel’s texted him for. They haven’t spoken much since that night. Charlie was sort of under the impression that they wouldn’t ever speak again. Daniel doesn’t go to Leeds, and he’s a couple of years older than Charlie. Charlie was sure he’d see him as a random, one-off thing and that they exchanged numbers purely out of courtesy.

Daniel (barebacks): hey! Just left work and was thinking about you x. Any chance you’re free tomorrow night? We can go to the bar again.

Charlie reads over the text a couple times, unsure of how he feels about it. More than that, he’s unsure of how to reply. From their brief encounter, Daniel doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who’s looking for something serious or a relationship. They didn’t speak about it much, but that was because they were too busy grinding up against each other or sticking their tongues into each other’s mouths. Which kind of tells Charlie everything he needs to know on that front. Besides what Daniel might be looking for, Charlie’s not sure what he’s looking for either. Back in Kent, he was hoping to eventually find someone to fall in love with. But in Leeds, he’s not sure if that’s what he’s still looking for. Or should be looking for.

Amy would tell him to have fun. To meet Daniel, but only for sex.

“Try more dick!” she’s been telling him for the last three weeks, anytime the topic of relationships comes up.

But Charlie’s still not sure what he truly wants. Half of his heart still clings to his old ideals about love and sex and relationships. The other half is curious as to what it might feel like to just be free. Since he can’t decide what he wants to do, Charlie leaves the message unanswered and goes back to standing in front of his mirror to assess himself. He fixes his curls, making sure that none of them are sticking out or appear too frizzed. Once he makes sure of that, he gives himself a once over in his full-length mirror. He’s wearing his favorite baby blue jumper, ripped black skinny jeans, and his all-white classic converse. He thinks he looks pretty good, which is not something Charlie ever would’ve thought of himself even a year ago.

He's about to step out to let Amy know he’s ready when she barges in.

“You ready, Charles?” she asks loudly, leaving his door wide open.

Charlie narrows her eyes at her, “have we not discussed the knocking situation enough already?”

Amy rolls her eyes at him, “oh, please. It’s not like anything worth knocking over is going on in here,” she gives him a look, “Unfortunately.”

Once Amy is done dismissing his requests, she rakes her eyes over his attire and whistles. The entire thing makes Charlie feel a bit more self-conscious than he’d like and he hugs himself around his middle.

“Stop that.”

“You look so good,” she compliments him with a friendly smile, “maybe you’re looking to pick up a tortured soul tonight so I would have a reason have to knock on your door before coming in?”

Charlie rolls his eyes at her, “no,” and then, because Amy is turning out to be one of his closest friends and maybe he wants a bit of her input, he adds, “Daniel, the guy from the bar, actually just texted me to see if I was free tomorrow. He wants to go back to Barebacks.”

Amy’s eyes light up at the news, “well you are free, aren’t you?”

Charlie shrugs his shoulder sheepishly, “I guess.”

“Oh Charles,” Amy sighs, “just live a little. You don’t have to fuck him if you don’t want to, or do anything, actually. But if the other night is anything to go by, it seems like you kind of want to. What’s stopping you?”

Charlie doesn’t know how to answer that question without divulging into his past that he’s not sure he wants to revisit or talk about just yet. He’s sure he and Amy will grow close enough that one day she’ll know every single scar he carries with him and why, but right now, they’re not there yet.

“Casual sex is just not something I’m used to,” Charlie answers instead. It’s honest without giving too much away.

“I don’t know how,” Amy says, “if I was gay, I’d beg you to let me fuck you. You’re adorable and the perfect twink.”

Charlie’s not sure how to feel about that compliment. He blinks at her.

“My point is you should enjoy yourself however you’re comfortable. I feel like you were into it last week. Just let things flow. Maybe you don’t fuck, but you let him blow you, at least. Think about it?” Amy asks, looking genuinely concerned about Charlie’s sex life.

Charlie can’t help but laugh at the obsceneness of it all.

“I’ll think about it,” Charlie tells her, “For now, let’s just go to slam poetry night. I’m ready to hear words from, what was it you called them?” Charlie smiles at her, “tortured souls?”

“I’m mostly going just to see you up there,” Amy says.

Charlie gives her a puzzled look, “I’m not going up there.”

“Hmm.”

“Amy, do not start.”

“Come on, let’s go! Tara and Darcy are waiting for us.”

Amy walks out of his room without another word, but Charlie’s not naïve enough to believe she doesn’t have something up her sleeve. He doesn’t ask her more though because when he checks the time, it’s almost seven thirty, and the night is about to begin. He takes his phone from his nightstand and unlocks it to re-read Danie’s text once more. As his thumb hovers over the keyboard, thinking of what to reply, Charlie still can’t come up with what he wants to say. So, he locks his phone again and heads out the door.

         Jess is out with some of her other friends for the night, so she’s not joining them for the night. They make their way out the flat, and ss Amy has her back turned to him, locking their door, Charlie looks over his shoulder in what he hopes in a subtle manner towards where Nick’s flat is. He hasn’t seen him since that one night over a week ago. And it’s fine, totally fine. Probably for the better even. But Charlie would be lying if he said he didn’t peer over his shoulder often when leaving and entering his flat, wondering if he’ll be lucky enough to catch a full glimpse of him or even a small glimpse of him again. He hasn’t been lucky yet, and tonight doesn’t seem to be turning out to be any different. Because when Charlie subtly looks over, he sees no one, not even one obscenely good-looking Nick Nelson, standing by the door.

         He turns away, and then he hears a slamming of a door to his left that catches his attention all over again. It echoes so loudly even Amy stops what she’s doing and looks over. The sound came from the slamming of Nick’s front door, but it isn’t Nick that is walking out of it. Instead, it’s a girl. A very attractive girl. She’s definitely within Nick’s league, with her olive skin and her small waist and piercing green eyes. But as she marches down the hall, towards Amy and Charlie’s direction, she looks rather upset. Her mouth in a thin line and her eyes cold as ice as she walks in a hurried pace away from Nick’s flat and away from their building.

         Charlie tries to drop his gaze, not wanting to outwardly stare. Amy finishes locking the door at the same moment, and then turns so she and Charlie could exit the building too. Charlie takes a step to his left to give Amy space to lead the way, still not entirely sure how to get to the campus bar without her direction. But just as he does, he bumps right into the angry girl leaving Nick’s flat.

         She stumbles slightly, and Charlie tries to grab onto her elbow to steady her when she rips it away from him like his touch will burn her.

         “Can you watch yourself?” she sneers at him.

         Charlie is about to apologize when Amy steps in, “oh, fuck off, Amaya. You’ve got the same pair of eyes as the rest of us. Use ‘em, why don’t you?”

         As Amy says her name, it clicks in Charlie’s head who she is. She’s the same girl Amy had told him about the first night he ever brought up Nick Nelson. The first night he ever even learned of his existence.

         “Or tell your useless boyfriend to watch his fucking step.”

         Amy cackles at Amaya’s mention of Charlie being her boyfriend, the idea laughable for many reasons. None of which Amaya would have a single idea about. Before she can even find out how ridiculous her statement is, she groans and continues walking off, the same angry stomp to every one of her steps as she does.

         Amy watches on, a small smile and a look of disbelief on her face as Amaya fades from their view.

         “What a fucking cunt that girl is.”

         Charlie giggles lowly, “she’s a bit mean, but you handled that very well.”

         “Yeah, because I don’t care how hot she thinks she is. She’s just anybody to me,” Amy shakes her head, “guess Nick’s lost his touch because phew. Anyway, aren’t you glad I told you stay away from that? Look at the mess you would be involved in.”

         Before Charlie can properly process her question, she loops her arm around his and starts walking them back to the very same way they were headed. Charlie doesn’t let his mind think about what he’s just witnessed too much. It’s not of his business, and Amy has a point because he’s glad it isn’t. Whatever drama Nick and Amaya have seemed to have found themselves in, Charlie’s happy he’s not in the mix. So, he occupies his thoughts with more pressing issues that actually make a difference to him. Like Daniel, and what exactly he’d like to do about him. That’s what’s important. That’s what will affect Charlie.

         When they walk into the bar, the place is more packed than what Charlie imagined it would be. There are round tables all around the establishment with faces Charlie can’t recognize occupying almost all of them. Amy scans the crowd and quickly finds Tara and Darcy sitting on a table to the far right of the room, more towards the back of where the stage is in the center towards the front. The stage is really just a spotlight on a stand-alone microphone and a chair. He sees his English lit professor, Mr. Jefferson with a clipboard in his hand to the left of the microphone, with students coming up to him to sign their names to that very same clipboard.  

         Tara and Darcy greet them with excitedness, and Darcy and Amy quickly go off to the bar to order them a round of drinks.

         “Are you planning on sharing anything tonight?” Charlie asks Tara as they sit on their own in the table.

         Tara shakes her head, “not tonight. I’ve had a bit of a writer’s block lately, you know?”

         Charlie could relate to her at many other points in his life, but lately, it’s like the words flow out of him and stick themselves onto his notebook like it’s his birth-given right. Maybe it’s all the newfound inspiration, but these days, Charlie can’t seem to put his pen down. He doesn’t tell that to Tara though, knowing how annoying it is for people to dismiss your struggles with their own triumphs.

“Yeah, I get you,” he says instead.

“Are you?” Tara asks him right back.

Charlie shakes his head, no. Even though he’s been writing so much, Charlie still doesn’t have the confidence to read his own words out loud to a room full of strangers. All of Charlie’s scribbles are personal, holding pieces of Charlie in them that he’s not sure he’s ready to give out to the world. Maybe by the end of term he’ll feel more ready. But right now, he doesn’t.

“Not a chance,” Charlie laughs a bit breathlessly, “though Amy hasn’t stopped bugging me about it.”

As if she could hear him speaking about her, Amy returns with Darcy and their drinks at that very same moment, which also happens to be at the very same time the first performer heads onto the stage.

As the night goes on, they watch performer after performer take the stage. It turns out, their campus is filled with a lot of people who write and care to share their writings publicly with others. Some people are unmistakably brilliant, making Charlie’s writing feel far inferior in comparison. Others are not as impressive, but all the same, Charlie admires their confidence for going up there and sharing with people who could easily judge them for it. It’s a confidence he only wishes he could possess.

 They snap for everyone regardless, out of courtesy, but a little bit harder when someone’s gone up there and really touched them with their words.

Darcy and Amy continue to keep the drinks flowing and in between performers, they chit chat. During one of the interludes, Charlie’s phone buzzes on the table. Tara and Darcy are deep in a conversation about poetry while Amy and Charlie sip on their drinks and watch the back and forth. Darcy’s arguing that poetry is meant to rhyme, if not it’s not poetry. Tara is educating her on the fact that no, not all poetry is meant to rhyme and it is still poetry. Charlie’s ninety percent sure Darcy’s just trying to get under Tara’s skin.

He picks up the phone to see another text from Daniel has come in. He swipes right to open it.

Daniel (barebacks): if you want to try something new, I have a few other places I could take you. Think about it? x

         Charlie stares at his phone screen.

         He still hasn’t come up with a decision on what he wants to do, but he can’t deny that it feels good, and different, being so heavily pursued by someone. He can feel Daniel’s desire for him oozing through every pixel making up his digital screen as he reads over the texts. It’s not something Charlie is accustomed to. In his relationship with Ben, if one could even call it that, Charlie was the one who did most of the chasing. Most of the desiring. Ben just took what he could from it.

         Charlie’s not even aware that he’s smiling at his phone until Amy calls him out for it.

         “Oh God, Charlie, look at you smiling at your phone like a fucking cornball. Just fuck him already!”

         At her outburst, Tara and Darcy stop their bickering and turn their attention to Charlie. Charlie hates being the center of attention, so he feels himself slip a little bit more into his chair at the sudden abundance of it.

         “Wait,” Tara puts out a hand as if to pause the moment, “who is she telling you to fuck, Charlie?”

         “Is that bloke you were sharing spit with at Barebacks?” Darcy questions.

         “Yes!” Amy answers for him.

         “Oh,” Darcy says, “well, mate you were practically fucking him with clothes on. Maybe try it without clothes on? What could it hurt.”

         Charlie groans into his hands.

         “I mean, I wouldn’t put it like that,” Tara glares at Darcy before softening her gaze at Charlie, “but you two were definitely… connected. What’s your hesitation on going out with him?”

         Charlie’s very grateful form Tara’s soft demeanor compared to Darcy and Amy’s more brash approach.

         He shrugs, unsure of himself, “I’m just – I don’t know if I trust people like that. I don’t know anything about him. How am I supposed to know if he’ll... you know. Take care of me?”

         Charlie doesn’t mean it in the way he thinks they take it. He doesn’t mean take care of him in a romantic, fluffy sort of way. He means take care of him in a way that the only other person Charlie has given access to his body didn’t. Ben just took from Charlie that night like he took everything else from him. The sex wasn’t enjoyable, and it didn’t feel good because Ben didn’t take a single second through it to contemplate Charlie and his needs. For a long time after Ben, one of Charlie’s biggest hesitancies about having sex with someone else was that they’d treat him exactly the same. That they’d treat the whole experience like it was for their pleasure, leaving Charlie as an after thought. Or a “warm hole” as Ben had once called him.

         “Charlie, just set boundaries. If what you want is a relationship, and he just wants to fuck around then don’t—” Amy begins, but Charlie cuts her off to explain himself.

         “Not like that,” Charlie explains, “more like – what if it’s not good? What if he’s too rough or only cares about his own pleasure?”

         “Oh,” Amy shuts her mouth, contemplating the question.

         “I mean, bad sex is bound to happen,” Tara chimes in, “if it sucks or he’s being a greedy bastard, send him to go fuck himself and walk out. Sex should be enjoyable for all parties involved.”

         “I agree with Darcy,” Tara says, “if it isn’t what you’re expecting it to be, you have the right to stop it whenever you’re uncomfortable.”

         Charlie’s always known what they’re telling him to be true. He knew it even when it was happening to him with Ben, and yet, he wasn’t able to do it. He wasn’t able to say the words or do anything to stop it. The words had died in his throat, along with a little piece of Charlie that night.

         “Yeah,” is all Charlie says though, “I guess you’re right.”

         “Of course we are!” Darcy proclaims.

         “Now go and see if the dick is any good,” Amy encourages him.

         Charlie gives them a small laugh that is more forced than genuine and looks down at the texts. Daniel’s already proving to be a lot better than Ben. For starters, he’s going after Charlie. Even when Charlie didn’t reply to his first text, sent over an hour ago, he texted again. Making his intentions clear on, at the very least, wanting to see Charlie again. Charlie thinks that’s a good place to start.

         He takes a deep breath in as he types out a message. He can feel all eyes on him as he does but ignores it as his fingers move along the keyboard, actually typing out words. It’s the furthest he’s gotten all night, and he doesn’t want to lose momentum. When he’s done typing out the message, he holds his phone out for all of them to see.

         Charlie: Hey, sorry for the late reply! Been a bit busy today. Barebacks sounds great. Meet you there tomorrow around 8? x

         “Very good,” says Darcy, cheering her drinks to him.

         “I like it,” Tara adds.

         And Amy, being Amy, leans in and presses send for Charlie, “all done!”

         “Amy!” Charlie shrieks. She simply shrugs and winks at him. He would be angry with her if he didn’t want to send the message. But the moment Amy sends it, he feels the rush of excitement take over him that confirms that he does, in fact, want to see Daniel again. He’s not sure if sex is on the table, but Charlie’s open to having a good time again and seeing where that may lead them.

         Daniel’s message comes in almost immediately.

         Daniel (barebacks): GREAT! You’ve seriously made my night. See you tomorrow at 8 xxx.

         “Wow, he is thirsty for you,” Amy laughs across from him.

         Charlie shakes his head but can’t help the smile that takes over his face, because well – Amy has a point. And it feels nice to be the one being wanted for a change. Charlie is always so used to doing the wanting. He doesn’t give Daniel a reply and just hearts the message and returns to listening to the next person coming onto the stage.

         He’s listening intently to this petite girl whose face is so round and juvenile it’s making Charlie wonder how she’s old enough to be in university when he hears the door of the bar open. Instinctively, Charlie looks that way. He plans to look only for a moment, just to get a quick glimpse of who else will be joining them and then return his attention to the performer. But Charlie’s mind registers who it is almost instantly, and he does a double take, his gaze getting stuck to Nick Nelson himself. The very same person he’s wanted to see in over a week. It feels like the universe has finally given Charlie the access he’s been requesting from it.  

         He looks just as good as Charlie remembers him, maybe even better now that his hair is styled in a James-Dean way, pushed back and to the side, and he’s dressed like something out of a 90s erotic calendar spread. He has high-waisted straight leg jeans on and a denim jacket to match. He looks angelic under the dim blue lights of the bar as he discreetly makes his way to the top bar, ducking his head the entire time like he doesn’t want to be recognized. Unfortunately for him, there’s not a room Charlie thinks Nick can enter where he wouldn’t recognize him.

         He’s staring at the back of Nick’s head when he feels Amy smirking at him from across the table.

         “Someone caught your eye?”

         Charlie picks up his drink and drinks the rest of it through his straw, “no. Nope.”

         But of course, Amy can see right through him, and cranes her neck backwards to see who it is Charlie was just ogling at. Charlie internally curses himself for being so obvious when she returns her gaze on him and looks thoroughly amused.

         “You two are being rude,” Tara hisses through a whisper.

         “Sorry, Tara,” Amy doesn’t sound the least bit sorry, “Charlie’s just drooling over our golden boy, neighbor. Mr. Nelson.”

         “Nelson?” Darcy’s eyebrows go up, “as in rugby prodigy, allegedly kissed a boy one time, Nick Nelson?”

         “Shhh!” Tara shushes them.

         “Charlie’s got a bit of a crush,” Amy says, her voice low.

         Darcy gives Charlie a look, “bad person to have a crush on I’m afraid. Nick Nelson is a mystery to us all and I’m pretty sure he’s going to remain that way.”

         “I do not have a crush,” Charlie tries to defend himself, “I saw him once and thought he was fit. That’s all.”

         “I’m as gay as gay can be,” Darcy says, “and even I can see that. But still, keep it there.”

         “Oh my god,” Tara glares at them all, clearly losing her patience.

         They all remain quiet until the girl on stage ends, and then they’re all snapping mainly out of politeness because Charlie barely registered any of what she said. Too preoccupied by Nick. Too preoccupied by Amy telling everyone he has a crush when he certainly does not.

         Tara turns to Charlie once the performer is done, “you have a crush on Nick Nelson?”

         “No!” Charlie tries not to scream out, “I saw him once when we were leaving the flat and I thought he was attractive. I have never even spoken a word to him.”

         “I feel sorry for him,” Tara says, “it can’t be easy being him after everything that happened last term. I’ve talked to him a couple of times. He’s actually nice, just very obviously guarded.”

         “Emotionally unavailable is what she means. Likely deep in the closet too,” Darcy interjects, “which is why you should stick to Daniel.”

         Charlie is about to defend himself once more by stating that he does not have a romantic interest in Nick Nelson, just that his eyes that are objective to truth, when he hears Mr. Johnson call his name to the stage. Immediately, Charlie’s eyes go wide, and he looks at Amy who is already standing, and hollering and snapping her fingers very loudly for him.

         She puts her hands out in either side of her, “what?” she asks innocently.

         “What have you done?”

         “Given you a little push is all,” she answers easily, a smile on her face.

         “Amy, I don’t even have anything to perform. What is wrong with you?”

         “Many things,” Amy stands, moving over to Charlie who is still stuck in his seat, looking up at Amy like she’s grown another head, “but this is not one of them. Check your back pocket.”

         Charlie’s scared to do what she’s asked but does it anyway. In his back pocket, he feels a piece of paper that he certainly did not put there.

         “What is that?” Charlie asks, feeling the paper and still looking up at Amy wide eyed.

         She tugs at his arms, trying to pull him up and out of his chair, “remember that poem that you left on the kitchen counter the other day? It’s that. I snuck it into your back pocket once you decided those were the jeans you were going to wear. Did you really think I was that interested in what you would wear?”

         Charlie was a bit caught off guard with how many times Amy had asked whether he’d decided what he’d be wearing. He thought it was odd, as she never really paid that much attention to his wardrobe before, but never would have imagined she’d come up with such an elaborate plan either.

         She gives Charlie another tug that really sends him up and out of his chair. And then they’re wrestling, limbs fighting for control as Charlie protests. As angry as he wants to be by Amy’s stunt, he can’t help the smile that his mouth breaks into as they push and pull on one another.

         “Amy, I can’t do this,” he says, feeling the fear rise through his body like bile even though he’s smiling through it.

         “Yes, you can,” she reassures him, “your poem will be the best of the night by a long shot. And you’ll feel more confident for it.”

         Charlie shakes his head, “Amy.”

         “Charlie,” she says, a bit more seriously, “you came here to break out of your shell, didn’t you? This is how you do it.”

         Charlie knows she’s right. He thinks about Elle, and how she told him no one grows when they’re comfortable. How growing pains are called that because growing out of one’s own comfortabilities can be painful. It can feel like the panic Charlie is feeling having to read out loud what he’s wrote about himself to a room full of people that do not know him. But maybe that’s his lifeline. Maybe that’s what’ll get him through this. The notion that these people do not know him. They don’t know that his words are a window to his soul. They’ll just think he’s a good writer or a bad one and won’t know how much weight or meaning his words hold to him. About him.

         He shakes his head at Amy as Mr. Johnson calls his name to the stage again, “I can’t believe you did this.”

         “It’s the push you need,” Amy winks at him.

         He makes his way to the stage; his head bowed the entire time. He can feel so many eyes on him, but he doesn’t dare meet any of them. If he locks eyes with anyone, he won’t be able to do it.

         He comes to the stage, his eyes focused on no one in particular as he introduces himself to the crowd as if Mr. Johnson just didn’t. He catches himself, and that elicits laughter from the crowd. Charlie convinces himself it’s friendly laughter, and people are laughing with him not at him. Not like the bullies back in Kent used to do when they’d mock him in the school hallways. He swallows and continues. He blames Amy for his performance and asks the crowd to blame her too if it’s shit, as he rightfully should, as he reaches for the paper in his back pocket. The crowd laughs again, and it sounds cheerful to his ears. It gives him a bit of confidence as he unfolds the paper in his shaky hands and swallows. He takes a deep breath in, and simply just dives in.

         He reads the words that are personal to him but unknown to everyone else. And he reads them with a bit of a shaky voice and shaky hands, but he doesn’t feel shame or embarrassment as he reads them. If anything, he feels the opposite. He feels a sense of relief wash over him as he divulges a small piece of himself to a room full of people who will never know how much the words mean to him but are listening intently to him anyway.

         When Charlie reads the last words, his eyes snap up and, as if an invisible string is tying him to the person who his eyes immediately find, he locks eyes with Nick Nelson sitting across the room from him. It’s as if there’s a magnetic force pulling them together, the contact unbreakable.It’s a moment that in reality lasts seconds but feels like a blimp in time where it lasts hours. Because Nick Nelson, who is still sat at the bar, is staring so intensely at Charlie. He’s starting at him like if Charlie’s words did provide a window into his own soul, and Nick is peering through that very window, getting a look at everything that Charlie is, everything he isn’t, and everything he hopes to become. And as Charlie looks back into honey-colored eyes, he feels as if he’s peering through the same window in Nick. His soul, suddenly bared to Charlie by Charlie’s own words. It’s a silent, and nerve wrecking understanding of one another that passes by in the seconds that they stare at each other. It’s unlike anything Charlie’s ever experienced before, and for a moment, he wonders if he’s just making it up. When Nick’s lips part, Charlie is scared that he is. He’s scared that everything he’s just felt with one single look is a figment of his imagination, and Nick was about to silently mouth to Charlie why on Earth he was staring so hard. So, Charlie rips his eyes away and looks around the rest of the room shyly.

He tries not to worry about the volume of the snapping around him, a bit louder than the snapping he’s heard all night. He keeps his head down as he walks back to his table, people paying him compliments as he passes by their table. The entire time, Charlie can feel the heat of Nick’s stare on him, burning through his skin. He hopes that the fire that burns behind Nick’s eyes is one of passion and not disgust, but he’s too to meet his eyes again and find out. Instead, he lets Amy pull him into a hug the moment he reaches their table again. She’s yelling how proud of him she is in her ear, but Charlie can barely make out the words. He’s drowning in an emotion he can’t quite place. In an emotion with Nick’s name written all over it.

As Amy holds on to him tightly, Charlie realizes he’s facing Nick’s direction. He opens his eyes to look over, just to see if Nick is still staring back at him with the same force he’d been staring at him moments before. He’s hoping that if they lock eyes again, he’ll know for sure whether he’s made it all up in his mind, or if it’s real. But when Charlie looks back, Nick’s no longer even turned his way. His back is to him as he chats with the girl behind the bar.

Charlie doesn’t let the disappointment take over. He turns away from him too and gives Tara a hug and Darcy a high five before he goes to take his seat again. From where he’s sat, his view is of Nick is as obstructed as Nick’s view of of him is. It’s a good thing.

“Thank you to everyone who came out tonight. You’re all brave for sharing your words,” Mr. Johnson speaks into the microphone, “I encourage you all to stop by again next month. For now, the bar is going to be rearranged for 90s night, which all of you are more than welcome to stay for as well but must get out of your tables now so they can do so. Have a great night everyone!”

Darcy groans, “bloody hell. 90s night? How tacky is that?”

Tara shrugs as she stands, “can’t be that bad. I’d actually stay if any of you were willing to stay with me.”

Charlie’s heart is pounding. He knows he has a choice to make, and the choice will either throw him towards Nick or away from him.

“Babe, I love you,” Darcy says to Tara, “but I am not staying for 90s night. That is going to be filled with those rugby idiots and their groupies. I’m going back to the flat.”

“As much as I’d love another round of drinks,” Amy says, “I agree with Darcy. 90s night is not my vibe.”

         “Wow, you two are so fun,” Tara teases them, and then she turns to Charlie, “what about you, Charlie?”

         Charlie swallows.

         He knows he can stay. He can stay and go up to that bar, and introduce himself to Nick. He can test out whether that electric chemistry he felt when they met eyes is true and palpable or whether it’s another one of Charlie’s mind’s tricks. Because that is what he felt. A deep understanding for a man he’s never said a word to that sparked an electric current in him that he can still feel dancing along all of his nerve endings.

         But then Charlie remembers that all he knows about Nick is that he seems to have kissed a boy once, and never addressed it again. That on this very same night, he saw the very same girl he’s allegedly been sleeping with for years leave his flat. That everyone around him has warned him that Nick might not be a bad person, but he’s definitely one with many skeletons in his closet that he seems to let no one else know about.

         Nick is everything Charlie did not come to Leeds for. He didn’t come to Leeds to end up as someone else’s shameful secret. He didn’t come to Leeds to fall for another emotionally, unavailable man. He didn’t come to Leeds to sell himself short of experiences and fall back into old patterns and habits that led Charlie to one of the darkest times of his life. He came to Leeds for something else entirely.

         So, whatever funny thoughts Charlie has swirling in his head, or however gorgeous and time stopping Nick Nelson may be, or as much as Charlie can still feel the fireworks dancing along his skin at the mere memory of their eye contact, Nick Nelson is not the person that will provide Charlie with the experiences he left home for. He can’t be – because the universe would not be so cruel to make the one person Charlie was made for, and was made for Charlie, the one person who would be impossible to have. Because from everything Charlie has heard, it’s clear that Nick Nelson has some baggage of his own. And Charlie has enough baggage for two, maybe even three people. He can’t handle any more.

He came to Leeds for a fresh start. For a new beginning. So things could be different for him. And Nick Nelson isn’t going to be the reason they are. In fact, he would be the reason things remained exactly as they were back home for Charlie. And Charlie cannot, under any circumstances, let him be that reason.

         So, with his dignity still in place, Charlie says, “I’ve got early lectures tomorrow. Sorry, Tara.”

         They leave the bar no more than two minutes later. And Charlie does not regret his decision, even if there’s a pull in his heart that leads him in the opposite direction of where his feet are taking him.

         His feet take him forward, his heart calls him backwards into the bar where Nick Nelson is still sat. For once, Charlie listens to his body and ignores his heart all together.  

Chapter Text

Nick’s cursing himself for leaving his coursework so last minute. It wasn’t necessarily done on purpose, although history is by far his least favorite subject. He finds it boring, tedious, and so far from his interests he can’t seem to dedicate himself to any of his assignments the way he should be. The way he needs to be, because his grade in his history course is slipping. His last few assignments have either been missed enitrely, or so half-assed they might as well have been missed too. He knows he’s barely been putting in an effort, and he knows he needs to change that. Because unfortunately, for Nick to continue to be able to play rugby, which is something he most certainly needs to remain focused on, he needs to keep up a certain GPA.

Nick’s never been extremely studious, but he’s always done what’s necessary to not let his grades slip and GPA become another stressor for him. But lately, it’s just been harder than usual to keep his head on straight. Though he’s been trying everything imaginable to feel like himself again, Nick just keeps coming up short. He thought he’d feel better after 90s night. The event had actually been fun, and he’d achieved his goal of getting absolutely pissed to the point of having to be supported by Sai and Christian during their walk home that night. But he woke up the next morning feeling physically and emotionally unwell. It hadn’t been the remedy he’d hoped it be.

Nick’s been trying to push a certain blue-eyed, curly-haired, absolutely breathtaking, poet and soul baring somebody out of his mind too, but it seems like the harder he tries, the more space that somebody occupies. He keeps coming back to Charlie’s words, the way he looked at Nick, and the connection he undeniably felt when their eyes met. And he knows that a big part of the reason this person keeps taking up his space in his mind that he does not have the luxury of giving to them is because that moment made him feel the most like himself he’s felt all term. Which is ridiculous, and should be impossible, because Nick knows nothing about Charlie and Charlie knows nothing about Nick. They didn’t speak that night. Charlie had left right after slam poetry night had ended. Nick had tried to tell himself he wasn’t disappointed by that because after all, Charlie isn’t someone or something Nick can do anything about. What would it have mattered if they’d met? Had a conversation? It couldn’t. It shouldn’t. But it did anyway. And it still does.

Nick cannot stop thinking about him. Anytime his mind replays their brief interaction, there’s something that tugs at Nick’s insides. It’s a strong, gravitational pull that seems to grow the more he resists. And he resists. He has to, even if he doesn’t necessary want to.

So, yeah. With all those wonderful, conflicting emotions, Nick’s mind has just been elsewhere.

Which is why he finds himself walking into the campus Library on a cloudy and windy Sunday morning with less than twenty-four hours to turn in his history coursework. In the last three years, Nick’s barely been to their campus library. He’s never really had much of a reason to. Today, he has two. The first being that he really needs to focus. Rooming with three other rugby lads is fun, but it can be entirely too ditsratcing. Especially on Sundays when all they want to do is get drunk and go out to bars to achieve that particular goal. The second reason is that he needs to find the book he should have gotten weeks ago to help him complete his assignment. Usually, Nick orders the books he needs for his courses with enough time on Amazon. Seeing as how he’s put this off until the last possible hour, he didn’t have that option this time around. So, the library it is.

But since Nick’s barely been to the library in his last three years on campus, he embarrassingly had to ask for directions from strangers as he walked around, a bit clueless on how to get there. And since he’s barely every visited the library to begin with, he’s feeling overly intimated by all the shelves of books around him. He’s disconcerted to admit that he’s not entirely too sure how to navigate the library.

He's walking up to Barb, their campus veteran librarian who is surely twenty years past her retirement age, to ask for some guidance when she snaps her eyes up at him before he’s reached her desk entirely.

She has thick framed, square glasses that magnify her eyes a funny amount and frown lines that are likely now permanent. Her glare as he approaches her makes Nick feel scrutinized already, without a single word even leaving her mouth. He stands back a few feet away from her desk for good measure, scared that if he gets too close, she’ll bite his hand off for even daring to step too close in her vicinity.

His interactions with her in the past have been limited, but he does have a distinct memory of throwing around a rugby ball in the courtyard once and accidentally bumping her shoulder with it. Maybe she hasn’t forgiven him for that, although he made sure to profusely apologize for it the moment it happened. It truly had been an unfortunate accident.

He opens his mouth to greet her when she sticks her hand out to him as if she’s waiting for him to place something in it, “library card, Nelson.”

Of course, she knows him by name too. And the way she says his surname doesn’t mean her knowing him by name is a positive thing. It usually goes one way or another on campus when people recognize who he is just based off his last name. Either people treat him like he’s some sort of celebrity, or they treat him like his a privileged, good for nothing asshole. Right now, Barb is treating him like the latter.

Nick hesitates for a moment, before reaching into his pocket to hand her his library card without a word. Nick’s usually not so rude. He always greets people when he approaches him, but for whatever reason, he thinks it’s better for him to say nothing to Barb. Instead of appreciating politeness from him, she’d probably sniff her nose up at him and scoff. He gets the impression she’s not one for small talk, and she definitely has no interest in engaging in it with Nick.

She curls her fingers around the card and brings it up close to her eyes, despite wearing glasses that certainly have a lot of prescription on them, to examine it.

“Hmph,” she scowls, “I’m surprised you have this.”

Nick doesn’t tell her this, but he’s surprised too. He’d spent all morning turning his room upside down looking for it when Otis warned him he wouldn’t be able to get into the library without his library access card.

“But I’m very obviously a student here,” Nick had protested, unsure of where he’d put his library card that he never used. He hadn’t seen it in years. He was sure it was entirely misplaced, and no amount of searching he did would make it appear.

“I get you, mate,” Otis had said, “but Barb is a huge stickler. She won’t let you in without a card.”

Nick had groaned like he was in excruciating pain, “Fuck,” he’d ran a hand through his hair in frustration, “can I just borrow yours then?”

“No can do,” Otis had, unhelpfully, said, “she won’t let you in if it isn’t your card. It’s technically one of the rules. And, like I said, she’s a stickler for those.”

Nick had grown frustrated, “then what the fuck am I supposed to do if I can’t find it?”

“Not much you can do at this moment, mate. You’d have to apply for a replacement and because Barb is like one hundred years old and our only librarian, it takes like three to five days to process,” Otis had said.

“I don’t have three to five days to spare. My assignment is due tomorrow.”

Otis had just stared at him, “maybe come with us to get drunk then?”

He’d been absolutely unhelpful, but at the very least, he’d motivated Nick to go through all of his things very thoroughly to find the damn library card. Not turning in his assignment tomorrow was not an option. And therefore, not getting into the library was not an option. Eventually, after spending almost two hours rearranging his room to find the damn card, he did. It felt like the skies parted and light had shown itself on Nick, his luck finally turning out.

“I never throw away such important things,” Nick says to Barb, a smile on his face he hopes melts her icy exterior towards him.

It doesn’t. She just glares before scanning Nick’s card in the card scanner and muttering under her breath, “so important you haven't been here in eons.”

He wants to let her know that he’s heard her, but he doesn’t. Because well, what good could come of it? And he still needs her help.

He clears his throat, “Um. I was hoping you could help me find a specific book I’m looking for. It’s called –”

Before he can finish, Barb cuts him off as she reaches a hand out to give Nick back his library card, “what’s the genre?”

It takes Nick a moment to gather himself as he carefully plucks his card back from Barb’s grip.

“It’s…,” he thinks, “history?”

Barb looks more unimpressed by him as more words tumble out of his mouth.

“What kind of history? Fiction or non-fiction?”

“Would it be easier if I told you the title—”

“Look here, boy,” Barb says sharply, “do you think I have time to spoon feed you exactly where to find your book? I know you must be used to all things being handed to you, but I am a very busy woman. Even though I know this library by the back of my hand, I can only waste my time offering you so much guidance.”

Nick wants to argue that although he’s sure Barb is very busy, there’s no one else in line trying to come up to her for help. So, technically speaking, she is free to help him as much as she’s capable of doing so. However, Nick can tell by their entire interaction, and the way she’s just spoken to him, that she’s one of the people who regard him as a privileged, good for nothing rugby lad simply because of who his father is and what that entails. Truthfully, he can’t entirely blame her. Some of the things and ways she thinks about him are true. Although Nick would argue nothing has ever been handed to me because he's chosen to work for the things he has, it’s undeniable that he didn’t necessarily have to. Because of who his father is, some people would easily give Nick whatever he asked for. He knows it’s how his older brother David got through most of his time in Uni. But Nick’s never been like his older brother, and he never plans to be. He can’t really blame Barb for thinking otherwise though.

So, Nick just answers Barb’s original question, although he’s not sure it’s the right answer.

“Fiction.”

Barb looks him up and down once, before pointing her finger in a very vague direction, “it should be somewhere on those shelves to the right towards the back. Look for the section that says ‘history – non classics.’”

Nick doesn’t find any of her directions very helpful and thinks that he could’ve saved himself an entire two minutes of being berated because he’d already figured he’d need to find the history section. The only helpful piece of information she gave him was that he might find his book under the ‘non-classics’ section, although he’s not entirely sure that’s true either because he can’t seem to remember whether his book is actually fiction or not. He’s sixty percent sure it is though.

“Thank you very much for the help, Barb,” he says politely, hoping that maybe that could sway her opinion about him.

She just grunts, “uh huh,” in return though, so Nick’s pretty sure he wasn’t very successful in his attempt.

He walks over to where Barb vaguely pointed to and looks up at the signs looking for the one she told him he should be able to find his book. He’s walking a bit absent-mindedly as he reads off the sections titles and stops when he sees ‘history – non classics.’ He stops in front of one of the shelves, every space filled with one book or another and feels slightly overwhelmed. He’s not sure how the books are rearranged. Whether it’s by the author’s first and last names or if it’s by book titles. He feels like his living up to the stereotype of being a not very bright, rugby lad as he tries to navigate the shelves.

He turns a corner, unaware of what he’s even looking at. He’s about to pull out his phone from his front pocket to see what the title of the book even is, so he has a better idea what to look for and if he’s in the right section for it, when he sees something from the corner of his eye.

When Nick looks forward, his heart feels like it’s about to jump out of his rib cage and expose itself to the person whose eyes he meet. Because, as if the universe is taunting him, sitting in one of the corners of the shelves is no one other than Charlie Spring. Charlie Spring, who is sitting with his legs out in front of him, a notepad on his lap, a book opened on the floor on one side of him, his bookbag on the other, a pen in one of his hands, and Nick’s heart in the other. Charlie Spring, who is looking right back at Nick with his deep, rich blue eyes that Nick has thought about, and dreamt too much about, in the last week and a half since he first looked into them. At the slam poetry night, there had been a distance between them that hadn’t shown Nick everything he’s looking at now. In broad daylight, with every single feature of Charlie exposed to Nick, Nick feels hit by it, by the same desire and want he felt that night, but with the double the force. It’s impossible to see Charlie so clearly and not feel it. And even more so to not feel it, and not act on it. Because now Nick can see the curvature of his cupid’s bow, the glow of his tan skin, the texture of every single one of his dark curls that Nick is dying to touch, and not do it. Not touch him. At how close Charlie is now, and how much of him Nick can see, Nick cannot walk away the way he knows he should. He cannot simply look away and return his focus on what he originally came to the library for.

The universe has left Nick Nelson without choices. It has done the choosing for him. And it has chosen Charlie Spring.

“Hi”

 Nick can’t help the smile that takes over his face at the sight of him.

“Hi,” Charlie greets him back.

Charlie’s lips curl into a soft smile, and suddenly Nick wants to do everything and anything in his power to be the reason he gets to see that smile again and again and again.

Nick feels like every nerve ending in his body has come to life with just their one-word exchange.

Nick takes him in, in what he hopes is a subtle matter. He looks down at Charlie’s notebook, words written down on it that Nick can’t decipher from where he stands, and then returns his gaze to Charlie’s face. He did that mostly to try and hide how he’s really just looking at all of Charlie, unable to help himself when he has such a clear view of him. Something that he’s been wanting since a week ago.

 He notices that Charlie has another jumper on, this time cream colored, and baby blue jeans that are also ripped at his knees. He has converse on again too, but this time they’re all back and low-top. And my God, Nick doesn’t stand a chance.

He catches Charlie’s spread his fingers out out over the words of his notebook, as if he’s shielding them from Nick’s curious glance. As much of a fan Nick is at Charlie’s words, Charlie is horribly mistaken if he thinks that’s what Nick is most intrigued by right now.

“I don’t really come here often,” Nick says, trying to play as cool as he most certainly does not feel, “but is it usual for students to study on the floors in between the bookshelves?”

If Charlie’s complexion was as light as Nick’s, he’s sure he would’ve seen his cheeks turn a light shade of pink. But Charlie’s complexion does wonders for him, and Nick can only subtly make out that his cheeks have turned a different shade than the rest of his skin tone at Nick’s words.

But even with the subtle change, Nick feels accomplished that he could elicit that kind of response from Charlie.

“Uhm, no. Probably not but I – well, I,” Charlie stammers, and Nick feels his heart clench around Charlie’s fist, “I just was looking for—for a book and then—”

“I’m just teasing you,” Nick says, the smile still on his face as he tries to save Charlie from feeling truly embarrassed. It wasn’t Nick’s intention. His intention was to—

Flirt, the voice ins Nick’s head says.

Nick ignores it.

Charlie giggles at Nick’s admittance, and instantly, it’s Nick’s favorite sound.

Holy shit. He is fucked.

“I see,” Charlie nods his head along, “well, you got me there.”

“I see that,” Nicks says as he sticks his hands in his pockets to stop them from shaking with how much he’s fighting the urge to reach out and touch him. It’s so fucking ridiculous, how he feels like his body and his mind overtake any rational thought Nick has ever been able to come up with when it comes to Charlie.

They stare at one another silently, for a moment, and Nick’s brain is almost malfunctioning while he tries to think of how he can just get one more word out of Charlie, when Charlie breaks the silence and does the work for him.

“I’m Charlie,” he introduces himself.

And because Nick’s brain is folding in on itself, he replies, “I know.”

One of Charlie’s eyebrows raises, “oh?”

Nick tries his best to explain himself without rambling and losing his cool exterior that he’s kept up until this point. Even if all his insides are screaming at him and his heart feels like it’s doing gymnastics inside his chest.

It’s been so long since Nick has felt anything remotely like anything he’s feeling right now. He thinks that even then, he’s never felt it to the intensity he does in this moment.

“I saw you perform at the last slam poetry night. Mr. Johnson had to call your name a couple of times to the stage before you actually went up.”

Charlie ducks his head a bit at the memory, “oh, yeah. That’s because my friend, Amy, signed me up without my knowledge and I was sort of… not ready?”

Nick finds that a small laugh escapes his mouth without him having to put thought into it. Lately, it’s felt like every smile, every laugh, he’s given since the start of term has taken genuine effort on his part to bring to fruition. With Charlie, it feels like breathing. Thoughtless, second-nature.

“Yeah, I’ve met Amy a couple of times, she can be,” Nick tilts his head from side to side as he searches for the right word to describe her without sounding offensive, “very opinionated. Abrasive.”

“Wow,” Charlie smiles, not a hint of offense on any of his beautiful features, “you sure you’ve only met her a couple of times? Because you’ve just described her to the tee.”

Nick smiles back as he leans his shoulder on the bookshelf, and it dawns on him that this is the most consistent he’s smiled in a while, “Well, I hope she didn’t make you feel too uncomfortable, because you know – boundaries. But, in my honest opinion, even if she did overstep, I’d say it might have been worth it. Your poem was…” everything. Perfect. All my sentences read out loud, “amazing.”

Charlie’s definitely blushing now, looking sheepish at Nick’s compliments.

“Thank you,” he says, his voice a bit lower, “I appreciate that.”

“I really mean it,” Nick pushes on, as if there’s any reason to, as if Charlie’s given him any indication that he doesn’t believe his praise. He hasn’t and yet Nick can’t stop himself from giving more of it to him, “I wish I could write like you. Put my thoughts into words so seamlessly. What you have is such a talent.”

Charlie shakes his head a little, “it’s really not… anything special. It’s just writing. I’m sure you could write as well as you think I do if you wanted to.”

Nick looks back at Charlie like he’s offended by his suggestion, “nothing special? It’s very special,” Nick argues, “I feel like being able to write well is a thing you’re born with. And believe me, I wasn’t born with it like you were. I took Mr. Johnson’s creative writing course by accident my sophomore year and had to beg my counselor to switch me out because there was no way I was going to pass that course.”

Charlie giggles again, a bit louder this time, and the dimples on either side of his cheeks expose themselves. Nick can’t help but openly stare at them.

“Well, I mean,” Charlie looks at Nick through his lashes, “one could argue that being good at sports is much more of a talent and a skill. It requires more discipline. And it’s not really something that I’m good at but I believe you are?”

He poses it as a question, but just from that alone, Nick knows Charlie has the answer.

Nick doesn’t know why he feels slight disappointment at Charlie’s subtle admission that he is well aware of who Nick is. It was to be expected. Most people on campus know who he is. For whatever reason, Nick was just hoping Charlie wouldn’t know him for the things Nick is known for before they ever got a chance to speak. He was hoping that Charlie would be able to see him the way he thought he did the first time they ever locked eyes. Not for all the ideas people have of him, not for all the expectations people have set for him, but for who Nick actually is. It’s harder with all the smoke and mirrors in the way of Nick’s well-known reputation obstructing the point of view Nick would have wanted Charlie to see him in.

His mind automatically wonders what assumptions and conclusions Charlie’s already made about him by the information that he’s been giving. And he wonders what that information even is.

Nick tries to swallow down the nerves he starting to manifest inside him, “I guess so. But rugby, and any other sport really, is something that if anyone practices enough, they’ll eventually be good at. It’s not like a skill you’re born with. Not in my opinion, at least,” Nick lifts his one shoulder that isn’t leaning on the shelf up, “I think writing, drawing, being musically gifted – are all skills that you are born with. People can train themselves in those things, but they’ll never be as good as the people who just have it.”

Charlie stares back at Nick like he’s tracing over every one of his words, really taking them in.

“Well, then,” Charlie gives him a small, shy smile, “thank you for thinking that I have ‘it.’”

“You definitely do,” Nick blurts out, his mind speaking words without his consent, “I’d go to every slam poetry night if you were performing.”

What. The. Fuck? He berates himself inside his head.

Because what the fuck is Nick’s mind doing? That was so outright flirtatious, Nick doesn’t even know where to stick himself. He’d feel worse about it, about how red he can feel his face getting, if Charlie’s wasn’t the exact same shade. Charlie breaks eye contact, looking down at his notepad for the first time since Nick walked in on him doing God knows what on the library floor.

Probably writing more words about Nick that he’s not even aware he’s doing.

“I—Uhm,” he clears his throat, “w-would love to have you there. Anytime I’m performing.”

Nick should end the conversation now. He knows he should. Because what good is going to come out of it if he continues? But it’s like his mind won’t listen to him. Won’t listen to any rational decision he’s trying to make. It’s been overridden by every desire and every want his heart has. And all of those wants and desires are in the shape of Charlie Spring.

So, instead of ending the conversation, he formally introduces himself, “I’m Nick, by the way. But I think you knew that already.”

Charlie looks at him like he’s a bit embarrassed by the fact the he certainly does, “I might have.”

Nick nods, and then asks, because he physically cannot help himself from wanting to know more about Charlie, “Are you a first year, then? I ask because I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around before the other night.”

Nick doesn’t think it. He knows it. He knows that the first time he’s ever seen Charlie on Campus was a little over a week ago during that slam poetry night. And he knows that must mean Charlie is new on campus because with the way his body reacts to him, there is no way Charlie could have been roaming the same halls as Nick for more than a couple of weeks and Nick never would’ve noticed him.

It's as if there’s an invisible anchor on Nick’s chest that ties him directly to the one on Charlie’s – pulling him in even when he wants to push back and go far away.

“No, I’m actually a sophomore,” Charlie answers, and Nick can’t help but feel confused by that information until Charlie adds, “I’m a transfer student from Kent.”

Nick’s intrigue only heightens at the newfound information.

“Kent? That’s a bit of a way from Leeds, isn’t it?”

Charlie nods, “I guess so.”

“What brought you here, then?”

Charlie doesn’t answer right away. Nick can see thoughts swimming behind those dark, blue eyes of his, as he contemplates how to reply to Nick’s question. That tells Nick that Charlie’s about to give him an answer that’s true but withholding information. Nick knows this because he does the exact same thing when someone asks him a question that he doesn’t, and truly can’t, outright lie to but doesn’t want to say more than he’s comfortable with.

“I just wanted a fresh start,” Charlie says, “Kent is home but it’s small. I just wanted something more, I guess.”

Nick has so many questions for Charlie. So many questions he wants to ask so he can get to know him. Really know him. But he knows it isn’t his place. So instead, he asks, “And are you liking Leeds so far? Is it providing you with the fresh start you were hoping to find here?”

Charlie’s lips quirk up again, a small smile on them that Nick wants to trace with his pointed finger. Over and over until he can recognize his mouth simply by touch and without sight.

“So far, yes,” Charlie answers, and Nick can tell he’s being earnest, “Leeds is something else entirely. It’s so big, and there are so many people here. All different kinds. It just feels like there’s a pandora box of new experiences I can have here that I could never have back home.”

Nick looks at Charlie, hoping his expression doesn’t give away how much longing he has to be one of those experiences. Knowing he can’t.

“Well, I’m glad then,” he says, “Leeds is definitely filled with a lot of different people who can introduce you to a lot of different things. I’m sure Amy’s already done some of that for you.”

Charlie nods, “she has. She actually introduced me to—” he stops himself, and Nick doesn’t automatically ask Charlie what he was going to say. He gives Charlie a moment to decide for himself, whether he wants to give Nick the bit of information he was just about to. Nick wants it more than anything, he wants every little bit of Charlie that he’s willing to give him. What he’s not willing to do is take anything from Charlie that Charlie isn’t willing to give him without being coerced into doing so. No matter how much he wants it.

Charlie looks away for a moment before meeting Nick’s gaze again.

“She introduced me the LGBTQ+ Society club on campus and it’s like… nothing I’ve ever had before? Back home, in Kent, there’s not a lot of community for queer kids. It’s just nice to be surrounded by people who understand you in that way.”

Nick feels like he can’t breathe.

He feels like he’s lost all the air in his lungs, and it’s been replaced by nothing but Charlie, Charlie, Charlie.

He’d suspected, of course. He’s not one to label people based off looks, or mannerisms, or anything elusive like that. But sometimes, the contents of the book are exactly what the cover portray it to be. He’d guessed that Charlie was queer, but having the confirmation of it is something else entirely. It burns Nick’s insides with curiosity. With want. With need.

Knowing Nick could have Charlie in that way is entirely different than simply thinking he could.

He tries not to say anything stupid. He takes a moment to compose himself, hoping Charlie doesn’t take his momentary silence as something negative. But Nick feels unable to speak right away, scared that if he does, he’ll say something he’s never really said to anyone other than Thomas out loud. Scared that the excitement he feels about this information he truly can’t do anything about will overtake him and he will do something about it that he shouldn’t.

“That’s good,” he eventually says, and even to his own ears, his voice sounds strained, “that’s really good. I think I’ve met some of the people from the club in passing before. I think one of them is named Tara? Dark skinned, short. Always has her hair in really nice braids?”

He’s steering the conversation away from Charlie a little bit, but only because he’s sure that’s the only way he won’t expose parts of himself he’s not ready to.  

Charlie’s smile is knowing, “yeah. Tara Jones. She’s great.”

Although Nick is the one who brings her up, he doesn’t really remember much about her except that she’s always been really kind any time they’ve interacted. After the whole ordeal with Thomas, she was one of the only people that offered Nick a smile whenever their eyes met in the hallways instead of an odd look. He could feel the acceptance for him radiating off her, the same way he could feel everyone’s unacceptance radiating off them.

Nick pulls himself out of his thoughts.

“Well, I’m glad you’re getting well acclimated, Charlie,” he gives him a genuine smile, “welcome to Leeds.”

“Thanks,” Charlie says in return, a bashful look on his face.

“Sorry for, uh,” Nick scratches the back of his head shyly, “interrupting your… you know.”

“No, it’s totally okay,” Charlie reassures him.

“I’m just looking for this book...”

“Anything you need help finding?”

Nick should say no. He should say no and look for it on his own. Even if he’s a little bit lost, he’s not a total idiot. Contrary to what Barb surely thinks of him. He’s capable. He doesn’t necessarily need Charlie’s help. And he shouldn’t take it, because he should really go back to focusing on what he came to the library for. To weed off distractions and finish his assignment that is due in less than twenty-four hours. Nick didn’t come to the library looking for Charlie. But somehow, the universe put him in Nick’s path anyway.

Nick thinks the universe is one cruel son of a bitch, and he’s standing outside of one of its greatest inside jokes.

So, even though Nick should reject Charlie’s offer, he doesn’t. He doesn’t because even though his skin is scorching with a want he cannot extinguish by divulging in it, he can’t seem to untangle himself from Charlie.

“Well, if you don’t mind,” Nick says.

Charlie’s smile grows, “I don’t mind,” and then he’s on his feet.

Nick has to look away because, fuck. How is he not supposed to touch him if he’s going to come even closer?

He tries to focus on the situation at hand to distract himself of how much his hands ache with every second that passes that they’re not on Charlie. He keeps them busy by fishing out his phone again from his front pocket and looking over the course syllabus he’d pulled up earlier that has the book he’s meant to do his assignment on.

When he goes to show Charlie, he finds him peering over his shoulder already. He stops himself from jumping at their proximity. It’s not because he’s frightened by it, but because he’s drawn to the electricity he feels between them. Like a poor moth to its unforgiving flame.

“What’s the book?” Charlie asks, his eyes first on Nick’s phone and then on Nick’s face.

Nick cannot look into Charlie’s eyes that up close and not do something entirely out of place. So, he doesn’t look back. Instead, he keeps his eyes on his phone, one hand behind his back, and the other gripping his phone tightly.

“It’s called, ‘The Book Thief’ by Markus Zusak.”

“Ah,” Charlie clicks his tongue besides him, “that’s a good one. Not sure if we’re in the right section though.”

He steps to the side, creating space between them and Nick finds himself both grateful and ungrateful for.

“Barb told me to look in this general direction, but she was pretty vague,” Nick tells Charlie, able to look at him now that he’s not right there.

“It should be around here, but not like, right here,” Charlie says, breaking eye contact to look at over the shelves.

He cranes his neck back, and as it extends, Nick imagines what it would feel like to place litter that space with his mouth. Would he like it? Would he squirm underneath Nick’s embrace and ask for more? What would his voice sound like, gravely and needy, as he Nick trails kisses all over his neck?

Nick snaps himself out of it and tears his eyes away from Charlie.

Jesus, he needs to get a grip.

“What’s your assignment on?” Charlie asks, moving around as he tries to figure out where Nick’s book may be.

He leaves the current section there in and Nick follows close behind him. Unfortunately, there’s not many places Charlie would go that Nick doesn’t think he’d follow him to.

“I have to write a paper tying the book to real life events that took place during the same time frame. I think it needs to be like, five pages long,” Nick answers.

Charlie stops and turns to face Nick momentarily and when they’re face to face like that, Nick feels the air leave his lungs once again.

“Would this be your first time reading the book?”

Nick feels terribly unequipped by the answer he’s about to give Charlie.

“Uh,” he stammers, “yes.”

“When’s the assignment due?”

“Um,” he stammers again, “tomorrow.”

“Oh,” is all Charlie says in return, but Nick can tell that he’s concerned for him. He should be more concerned about why he’s concerned for him, but all Nick can focus on is how much he likes that.

His brain is definitely malfunctioning.

“You look worried for me,” Nick admits.

Charlie’s eyes give him an answer before his mouth does. Nick doesn’t know which he likes more.

“Only a bit!” Charlie says, looking a bit timid, “it’s just – the book is kind of a long read. And then finding ways to tie it to real life events can take quite a bit of time. And I mean, you told me yourself you’re not much of a writer. But – no. I’m sure you’ll do fine!”

Nick’s panic about the assignment begins to set in as Charlie paints his bleak reality for him with bold strokes. Charlie’s right. Nick is screwed.

As if Charlie can sense Nick’s panic about the sudden realization, he adds, “hey, it’s okay. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to freak you out.”

“No, it’s—it’s not on you,” Nick says, raking a nervous hand through his hair, “it’s on me. I should’ve dedicated myself to this weeks ago.”

It’s silent between them as Nick looks down at his shoes, trying to breathe through it. He’s trying to work through solutions in his mind. He’s in a time crunch, so really, what he has to do is likely skim the most important parts of the book – which he can find out which those are on the internet. Then he’s going to have to google everything about the war that he can tie into the book, with no time to allow himself to read the textbook and try to decode it. He’s probably going to have to stay up all night to get this done, which means he’ll likely be extremely tired at practice tomorrow but—

“Nick,” Charlie says and at the sound of Nick’s name on Charlie’s mouth, on his tongue, Nick snaps out of his own thoughts and looks up at him.

Charlie should’ve never said his name, because now Nick is not going to stop thinking about the way it sounds around his voice. The many different ways Nick could make it sound.

Nick blinks those thoughts off, “huh?”

“I said,” Charlie says, his big eyes looking sincerely at Nick, “I could help you… if you’d like.”

God, Nick would love a chance to spend more time with Charlie. He knows he’d be willing to give up almost anything for it. But it doesn’t – he shouldn’t. And honestly, it isn’t for all the obvious reasons his mind keeps seeming to forget about why it’s a bad idea, but also because he’d feel a bit like he’s taken advantage of Charlie’s kindness. This is Nick’s own doing. He made his bed, now he has to lay in it. He doesn’t want Charlie helping him fold the sheets and laying down right next to him. Not metaphorically, at least.

“Charlie, I couldn’t ask that of you,” Nicks says honestly.

“Well,” Charlie’s lips curl upwards again, “it’s a good thing you didn’t then. I offered.”

Nick releases a breathy laugh, “well, technically, yes. But still. I—I feel bad, you know? This isn’t your responsibility.”

“I know that,” Charlie says gently, “but I want to help. We all procrastinate sometimes. I’ve been where you are. I really don’t mind.”

They’re just looking at one another, the static of chemistry humming between them the longer they hold each other’s stare. Nick doesn’t know how he’s going to survive spending hours with Charlie as he helps him with this assignment without doing something that could land him somewhere dangerous. But he also doesn’t know if he could survive this assignment without Charlie either. He possibly could, but it would take so much out of him. So much more than Nick currently has in him. He definitely underestimated the work and how bad of a decision it was to wait till the last minute. And Nick cannot fail this assignment. It would put him a really bad spot in terms of his GPA. It would just be another burden on his shoulders that Nick doesn’t know if he could bare.

So, for those reasons, he says, “Thank you, Charlie. Really, thank you. I promise I’ll find some sort of way to make it up to you.”

Charlie beams at Nick’s acceptance, and Nick isn’t sure if Charlie is just someone who really enjoys helping people, or if he’s looking forward to spending more time with Nick. He doesn’t know, but he’s really hopeful that it’s the latter.

“I’m sure you will,” Charlie says and then, he does something, and he does it so quickly that Nick’s not sure if he’s imagining it. But Nick thinks he sees Charlie’s eyes flicker down to his mouth momentarily before reaching his eyes again. But it’s quick, quicker than any of their encounters have been so far. And it’s gone before Nick can register whether it was real or not.

And before Nick can think any more on it, Charlie is turning his back to him again, in search for Nick’s book.

“Okay, I think the book might actually be here,” Charlie says, as he moves into another section, disappearing from Nick’s view.

For the moment that they’re not in each other’s line of sight, Nick throws his head back, closes his eyes, and gives himself a reality check.

He can do this. He can work on this assignment with Charlie without doing something that will be completely detrimental to his well-being.

Nick inhales deeply and releases the breath no more than a second later. He thinks it did enough to collect himself. Then he follows Charlie into the same section he went into it.

It takes Nick and Charlie approximately three hours and thirty-three minutes to finish the assignment. Nick knows this because he spent the entirety of the time trying to focus on the assignment and losing his focus to trying really hard not to touch Charlie. The latter was taking so much more effort.

With how close they were sat together, both of them hovered over Nick’s laptop in one of the libraries’ private study rooms, it would have been easy for there to be accidental contact. The brush of shoulders. Their knees knocking together. Their hands bumping into one another as they both reached for the keyboard at the same time. There were just a lot of ways they could touch, and Nick could absolutely not let that happen. Because he was sure once his skin got a feel for what Charlie’s skin felt like on it, Nick would never be able to stop touching him. And that would be a problem.

“Just add a coma there,” Charlie says, pointing to a sentence Nick has been blankly staring at, “and I think we’re done.”

Nick does as he’s told the moment Charlie pulls his hand back and Nick is sure he won’t accidentally brush his hand with his own. Once he does, Charlie declares them officially done.

Nick sinks back into his seat, most of the tension leaving his body. He knows his body hasn’t been tightly coiled for the last several hours simply because of the stress of the assignment. He knows it’s also been because being stuck in a room with Charlie has kept Nick on an emotional rollercoaster. The very same one he’s been on since he first learned of his existence.

As much as Nick likes being around Charlie, he doesn’t like that he has to hold so many parts of himself back when he is. It can easily get exhausting.

“Finally,” Nick says, letting out a long, deep breath.

Charlie lets out a small laugh, “I’m sure you’re glad that’s over with.”

“I sure bloody am,” Nick concedes.

Charlie offers him a small smile, and Nick gives him one right back.

As hard as being so close to Charlie has been for him, he’s grateful for his help.

“Charlie, I really can’t thank you enough for helping me on this. I know I’ve already said this a million times but—”

“Then don’t say it again,” Charlie cuts him off, “really, Nick. I enjoyed this.”

Aw, fuck.

Nick wants to tell him that he did too. That despite how tight his entire body was fighting off his incessant want to be closer to Charlie with the temptation dangled right in front of his face, he enjoyed spending the last three hours in his presence. Not only because Nick could never get tired of looking at him, but also because in the last three hours he’s gotten to know Charlie a little bit more. And Charlie is – well, he’s insanely smart. He’s quick witted. He’s funny too. He made Nick laugh, genuinely laugh, several times during the last hour. He’s sure there’s much more to him. And Nick wishes he could get to know every last piece of him.

But admitting that feels like crossing into a territory Nick can’t cross into.

“I owe you,” he says, instead of admitting just how much he enjoyed it too, “really. Whatever you want, it’s yours.”

Charlie looks at Nick like he already knows what it is he wants. And for a moment, Nick thinks he’s going to tell him what that is. But then Charlie looks away and scoots his chair a bit away from Nick as he goes to pick up his things.

“Like I said, I’m sure you’ll figure out a way.”

Nick doesn’t say anything in response. Mainly because he knows the many ways, he’d like to thank Charlie, and none of them are appropriate. Or possible. So, he goes and starts picking up his things as well. They pick up after themselves in silence, the energy in the room suddenly a bit charged with something Nick can’t place.

They leave the room and the library in the same fashion. Silently, but side by side.

Once they exit the library, the sun has settled, and nighttime has fallen over them.

Nick turns to Charlie, not quite ready to say his goodbyes but knowing that their impromptu time together has come to an end.

“Well,” Nick says, feeling a bit awkward all of a sudden, “thank you again, Charlie. I promise I’ll figure out a way to make it up to you.”

“So you’ve said,” Charlie gives him a playful smile.

Nick feels his cheeks heat, “yes. Yes, I’ve said that enough. And uh, this isn’t the way I’m going to make it up to you, but do you want me to walk you home? It’s late.”

It’s true but just as selfish as it is selfless. Nick’s not quite ready to stop being in Charlie’s company yet.

Charlie looks away, and Nick can instantly tell he’s made him uncomfortable.

He feels very dumb. Charlie’s a big boy who can walk himself home, no matter how dark or light it is outside. Also, it’s not like they were just on a date or something where Charlie would think it isn’t weird that Nick’s just offered to walk him home. He probably doesn’t want a stranger knowing where he lives. God, Nick can be a real bimbo sometimes. He opens his mouth to apologize, when Charlie says, “we actually live in the same building.”

At the sudden declaration, Nick feels stunned into silence.

         It can’t be.

         It just can’t be that they live in the same building.

         “Pardon?” is all Nick says.

         “I promise I’m not stalking you,” Charlie says quickly, looking at Nick like he’s embarrassed or ashamed.

         “Charlie, I don’t think that at all,” Nick reassures him, “I’m just – how did I not know we lived in the same building?”

         Charlie shrugs, “you’ve never seen me, I guess. To be fair, I only saw you once. But then Amy confirmed that you lived there. Across the hall, a couple doors down.”

         Shit. Nick really does fit the jock stereotype too well sometimes. He’s known that Amy lives in his building since the start of sophomore year, when she moved in while blasting very loud, very head-banging music the entire time she did it. Sai had been so intrigued with her he’d gone to her door to offer her a house-warming gift in the form of a pie he’d baked for her. He’d tried so hard, putting on an apron and everything. And when he’d hand delivered it Amy had thanked him and then immediately shut him down by telling him he had no chance because she was a lesbian. Christian and Otis gave him slack about it for weeks after.

         Nick should’ve pieced this together the moment he realized how close Amy and Charlie are. They aren’t just friends, they’re flat mates. And Nick and Charlie are neighbors.

         “We’re neighbors,” Nick says, “wow.”

         “Yeah, I know,” Charlie says, “I was thinking of how to bring it up because I knew we’d be walking the same direction once we left and then it might seem like, weird.”

         Nick laughs, “that might’ve been a bit strange.”

         Charlie laughs with him, but it sounds a bit nervous, “yeah.”

         “Well, now I’m definitely walking you home.”

         Charlie rolls his eyes at Nick, but there’s no heat behind it. It’s obviously playful, and Nick has never thought that anyone rolling their eyes on him is endearing but on Charlie everything and anything is adorable. He almost wants to say something ridiculous so he’ll do it again.

         “You don’t have much of a choice, I think,” Charlie teases.

         “There’s always a choice in life,” Nick says, trying to sound philosophical and smart.

         Charlie giggles, “so deep.”

         “I try.”

         They walk back to their building with Nick asking Charlie questions about Leeds and what he’s experienced on campus so far. It seems like the safest topic of choice, and one where Nick feels comfort giving his input without making the whole conversation too personal.

         Once they reach their building, they stop at Charlie’s door first. The entrance is more towards his side. At seeing just how close Charlie’s been all along, Nick can’t believe it took a random meeting in the campus bar for them to run into each other. He thinks the Universe is crueler than it is mysterious, and it’s messing with his damn head.

         “This is me,” Charlie announces, although they both know it is.

         Nick smiles, “and I’m over there,” he points with his index finger, although he knows Charlie is aware of where his flat is.

         They stand around awkwardly again, the charged energy Nick had felt earlier when they were in the library room returning. Nick doesn’t know what’s going through Charlie’s mind, but his is reeling, trying to find a way to end the night that is both appropriate and not rash.

         “So, should we exchange numbers?” Charlie asks.

         Nick tries to not let the surprise at the sudden question show on his face.

         He doesn’t know if he does a good job though, because quickly after, Charlie adds, “how else are we supposed to keep in touch so you can, as you said many, many times, ‘make it up to me’?”

         It makes total, and logical, sense, what Charlie’s asking of him. And Nick’s not so far up his own ass that he thinks everyone wants him in that way. But he’d be lying to himself if he didn’t feel the interest radiating off Charlie the same way he feels it humming in his own bones. Nick knows what people being interested in him looks and feels like. He’s had it happen to him so many times over the years. And though he hasn’t felt that in so long for himself, he knows he feels it with Charlie. But he can’t do anything about it. Every reason he had for not introducing himself to Charlie a week and a half ago at slam poetry night still stands.

And having Charlie’s number on his phone is crossing over into that dangerous territory Nick had to try so hard to hold back from when they were in the library room. It’s as tempting to him as a single touch of their skin would be. Because then Nick would have easy access to him. It would be easy to text him every day, get to know him more, make plans to hang out. It’s too, too tempting. And it isn’t that Nick doesn’t want to give into that temptation. He wants to more than anything. It’s undeniable that he likes Charlie. That there’s some weird, cosmic, out of body connection that they share that feels inexplicable to Nick. Because in the last four hours he’s been around him, Nick has felt lighter and happier than he has in weeks. In months. He’s done denying that truth to himself, but there’s another truth he can’t deny either.

         That truth is that Nick knows is not in a place to give Charlie everything he deserves. He’s still figuring himself out and worse of all, he’s still determined to be the version of himself that other people expect him to be. Charlie may not be asking much of Nick, but Nick would never dare give him scraps of him. And not being able to give Charlie everything he wants to, everything Charlie deserves him to, will destroy him. He’s already hanging on by a thread.

So, as nice as their day was, and as much as Nick let himself indulge a bit, he knows he needs to end it here. Exchanging numbers will not end it here.

         “I’ll get creative,” Nick finally answers, rejecting Charlie’s offer in the gentlest way he can think, “we’re neighbors, after all.”

         If Charlie’s disappointed by Nick’s response, he does a stupendous job at hiding it. His features and expression are unreadable to Nick.

         “Alright, then,” Charlie says, “I guess, I’ll see you around?”

         Nick honestly hopes that he won’t. Because the more he’s around Charlie, unable to have him in the way he wants him, the more torturous it’ll become. But he doesn’t tell Charlie that.

         “Yeah, I’ll see you ‘round,” Nick tries to smile.

         Charlie gives him a small smile, “okay. Goodnight, Nick.”

         “Goodnight, Charlie.”

         Charlie turns his back to him and goes to stick his keys in his lock. Nick is watching him, wanting so badly to reach out and say something else. Do something else. Just to steal another moment with him. But he doesn’t because well, he just set that line and boundary for himself when it comes to Charlie for a reason.

         He realizes how creepy he must look just standing there watching him, so he quickly moves to his own flat. Nick sticks his key in his door and puts his hand on the knob. He pauses, but not for the reason he usually does. He pauses to look back at Charlie one last time before he goes inside. When he looks over, Charlie’s already look back at him.

         Their eyes meet and sparks dance behind his eyes just like they did a week ago when their eyes connected for the first time underly dimly lit blue lights. And in that moment, Nick knows that Charlie knows that they both know that it happened, even if none of them mentioned it today.

         Charlie puts his free hand up and waves, and then he’s gone. Disappearing into his flat quickly.

         Nick stays staring in his direction, where he was just standing within reach a few moments ago. He wonders to himself whether he’s making the right choice or not.

         Then he hears his dad’s voice in his head again.

         ‘Focus, Nick’

         He shakes himself out of it, turns the knob and heads inside. Nick doesn’t realize it right away, but it’s the first time in weeks since Nick has been able to unlock his door, turn the knob, and not think about Thomas. About the moment that changed everything for them. For him.

         And that the credit for it is all due to Charlie Spring.  

Chapter Text

Charlie’s sitting on their living room couch, with his knees bent almost all the way up to his chest. The sliver of space he leaves is for his notebook to lay comfortably on his lap as he scribbles away. He’s not writing anything particularly groundbreaking. He’s just laying out his thoughts on paper, both his headphones in as he’s serenaded by the melancholic lyrics of Harry Style’s Cherry. Jess is sat on the love seat on the other side of their living room space, strumming away on her guitar as she tunes it and practices a melody Charlie can’t hear over his headphones.

They’ve been sitting comfortably like that, both lost in their own worlds, for at least an hour. Charlie has come to find that he and Jess are able to do that with one another. Considering they’re both quieter and calmer by nature, they seem to be able bask in a silence around one another that is neither awkward nor uneasy. They’re happy to be around one another while they both indulge in their own, respective hobbies, not necessarily having to fill the space with conversation. It’s nice, and a stark contrast to Charlie’s relationship with Amy.

With Amy, Charlie feels like he’s constantly having to exude energy. Amy is someone who is full of it. She’s the extrovert that neither Jess nor Charlie seem to be. Amy is loud, and chaotic, and on one hundred percent energy levels one hundred percent of the time. Charlie wonders how she’s ever able to sleep, because when she’s awake, she doesn’t every seem to get tired of just being on. Charlie admires her for it though. He admires how she is so unapologetically herself and doesn’t feel the need to tone herself down or shrink herself to a more formidable size just so other people can make the space for her. People either do make the space or they don’t, and neither choice really matters to her.

Frankly, Charlie likes both Jess and Amy, and his relationships with both girls, equally but for entirely different reasons. Jess is the right company to have when he’s not feeling very chatty or like doing much of anything that requires a lot of effort on his part. She’s the perfect person to be around when he just wants to be and exist but not necessarily do it on his own.

Today is one of those days.

He’s lost in his random scribbling when someone flicks his ear to grab his attention. He doesn’t need to look up from his notebook to know who the culprit is. There’s only one person he shares his flat with that would do such a thing, and it isn’t the person who he’s been sharing a space with without a word for the last hour. So, that leaves one and only viable option left.

Charlie’s not surprised when he looks up and finds Amy grinning down at him in total amusement. Probably from herself.

When Charlie simply smiles at her in greeting, not removing his headphones to make actual conversation, she huffs and puts her hands on her hips. When Charlie still doesn’t react, Amy mimes for him to remove his headphones.

Reluctantly, and with a deep sigh, Charlie removes one headphone from his ear that stops the music entirely. Harry Styles is no longer singing to him about a past lover he wishes never moved on.

“Hi, Amy,” Charlie says sweetly.

Amy flicks his ear again, “Oi! Don’t act like speaking to me is such a chore.”

It usually isn’t, and usually Charlie enjoys their conversations, but lately his energy levels haven’t been up to par with Amy’s. Not that they ever are or could be. But usually he’s able to keep up. Today though, he’s just wanted to recharge. Which is why he was sitting in peaceful silence with his other, calmer, roommate. A bit grateful that Amy was out and about doing whatever it is Amy gets up to. She’s not one to stay in the flat for too many hours on end. She gets restless when she does.

“Sorry,” Charlie apologizes, not wanting his friend to feel unappreciated, “I’m just a bit, you know. In the zone.”

Amy’s gaze momentarily flicks to Charlie’s notebook. Charlie shields it by spreading his fingers over the words he’s written and it’s only then that he realizes that the entire page is filled with his hand-writing.

“Writing more material for the next slam poetry night?” she teases.

Charlie narrows his eyes at her, “I will decide whether or not any of my material every makes it to slam poetry night again.”

“Alrighty, big guy,” Amy puts her hands out in front of her in surrender.

They’ve had a talk since the first slam poetry night about boundaries. Although Amy came from a good place, with the best of her intentions, Charlie wants her to understand that sometimes he doesn’t want to be pushed as much as she’s capable of pushing. A nudge is fine. A nudge is what he needs. What she did that night felt like pushing him in front of a moving train. He made it clear that the next time she wanted to get Charlie out of his comfort zone, maybe she could do it with a bit less force.

When Amy continues to stare down at Charlie, he wonders if she’s waiting for him to make some sort of small talk before she leaves him to his writing.

“How was your time out of the flat?” Charlie asks politely, hoping that he’s appeasing her need for a quick chat so he can be left alone again.

“Fine,” Amy’s grin is back on her face, and there’s something mischievous about it that makes Charlie a little scared about what’s causing it, “actually, a little eventful.”

“Yeah?”

“Yup,” Amy says, her hands on her hips again. She cocks her head to side as she squints down at Charlie, “anything you want to fill me in on, by the way? Anything you’ve been, rudely, keeping to yourself?”

Charlie’s got no idea what Amy is very obviously alluding to. Anything eventful that’s happened in his life since he’s gotten to Leeds he’s shared with Amy. And really, the most eventful things that have happened have had to do with his nights out with Daniel. They’ve only been out together twice since Daniel asked him out during slam poetry night, and anything worth noting from both of those nights Charlie has shared with Amy in great detail. Probably a bit more detail than necessary. But he’s getting back out there. Exploring his sexuality in a very freeing way that he’s never had before. And Amy is the most sexually free friend he knows and has. She’s been instrumental in helping him feel more confident in exploring that side of himself with Daniel, which he’s been enjoying more than he anticipated he would. Even if everything so far still hasn’t gone as far as it can.

At the thought of Daniel, he remembers that he left him on read an hour ago before he began scribbling on his couch. Daniel invited him out again this Thursday night, to another bar around the area. It will be their third outing and, Charlie knows there are no rules to dating, but he knows that sometimes people have expectations from those general, made-up ‘rules’ anyway. He’s not necessarily opposed to obliging by those unsaid, unofficial rules. But he’s still not sure whether he’s ready or not yet. Danie’s been nothing but kind and giving throughout their brief sexual encounters up until this point. Every doubt Charlie had about hooking up with him, Daniel has squashed with his attentiveness to Charlie’s pleasure as if it’s as important as his own. Which maybe it is. Still, Charlie’s not fully convinced that he’s ready to just jump into the next obvious step with him.

He reminds himself to really take a moment to think it over before he replies. And also, to do it once he’s done dealing with whatever Amy is trying to get at.

“Um, no?” Charlie answers, a bit unsure although he doesn’t where the unsureness is coming from. He is sure.  

“No?” Amy questions him, like she knows something he doesn’t but should.

“No,” Charlie says again, this time firmer and more sure, as he laughs at the ridiculousness of their entire exchange.

Amy’s eyebrow quirks up, but the telling smile on her face never falters, “No, you say. Well, then,” she crosses her arms over her chest, “could you think of any reason why Nick Nelson just flagged me down in the courtyard, full on sprinted towards me, and asked me what your favorite dinner food is?”

At the mention of Nick Nelson, Charlie’s stomach dips in the same way it does whenever he’s experiencing a sudden drop on a rollercoaster.

Okay, so maybe there is something that Charlie hasn’t shared with Amy. But in his defense, he hasn’t shared it with anyone. He’s barely allowed himself to think of it. In truth, Charlie hasn’t known what to make out of his one lone encounter with Nick that day at the library. It’s been a little over a week since then, and not to Charlie’s surprise but much to his disappointment, he hasn’t seen or spoken to him since. It’s expected, of course, since Nick so politely, and kindly, rejected Charlie’s offer at exchanging numbers. Charlie didn’t even know someone could reject someone else so graciously. It’d been hard to feel upset with Nick over it, considering how he nice he’d been about it.

The problem is that Charlie has conflicting emotions about their day all together. Because he couldn’t make out any thoughts in Nick’s head about their time spent together, and the abrupt ending just made it all harder to decipher. Charlie’s sure that maybe it’s not as complicated as he’s making it out to be. Maybe Nick really did just use him to help get his assignment done in record time and then discarded Charlie like the afterthought he likely is to him.

But then there was the way Nick spoke to him, the way that at some points in the conversation, Charlie was sure he’d been flirting with him. He’d literally told him, verbatim, “I’d go to every slam poetry night if you were performing.” Something he’s been replaying in his head on a constant loop. And yes, from their brief encounter, Charlie could pick up that Nick seems like someone who is just nice in general. But that comment, that compliment, had been undeniably personal. And there had been the way Nick had looked at him. His honey-colored eyes with specks of gold that Charlie would be happy to count individually for the rest of his life, held something both intense and soft anytime Nick looked at him that day. And then there was way he kept repeating his name too. Like it was some sort of mantra for him. It was like every time he said any simple sentence to him, he had to insert Charlie’s name in it. Like he liked the way it felt around his tongue. Like the way it sounded when it left his mouth.

Charlie could relate. Because anytime Nick had said his name that day, Charlie felt himself go weak in the knees in such a pathetic, pre-teen sort of way that, regardless of the self-awareness, he could not help. He was grateful that he’d been sitting for most of their conversation, because he’s not sure he would’ve been able to take hearing his name in Nick’s voice so many times and kept himself up right at the sound of it. Not that he would’ve minded falling into Nick’s arm. He was more than willing to do that, to know what it felt like to be held by Nick’s nice, strong, rugby arms.

There was just undeniable chemistry between them. Charlie could feel it even when he was sat on the ground, but the moment he stood and came closer to Nick, it was impossible for him not to be smacked by the force of it. Not to feel it lighting up every single nerve ending in his body. His synapses were taken over by all things Nick.

He was positive Nick was feeling it too. But then there were other things that made Charlie doubt himself.

Nick had almost looked uncomfortable when Charlie mentioned the LGBTQ+ Society and feeling very much at home with the members. He’d thought about whether to say it or not before he actually did. He’d ultimately decided to because Charlie hasn’t been in the closet in years, and he wasn’t going to put himself back in it just because Nick might be uncomfortable about him being gay. Not that he could imagine he was if he’d once felt comfortable enough to kiss a boy right in front of his very own door. Or so, the rumor goes. A part of him had also wanted to know how Nick would react to the news. He was sure he’d suspected, but confirmation was something else entirely. The problem was that part of his plan kind of backfired on him, because Charlie had been unable to gauge whether Nick’s reaction to the revelation had been positive or negative. It was impossible to not notice the change in pitch in Nick’s voice when he’d replied, his chords a bit strained. But he’d only said nice things to Charlie. No subtle digs or microaggression in place.

More than just that, it had felt to Charlie that Nick had been taking very careful precautions to make sure no part of him and Charlie every touched. Charlie wasn’t sure if he’d been imagining it or not at first but felt like it was confirmed when they sat in the library room together. Nick would wait at least five seconds or more whenever Charlie leaned in to point something out on Nick’s laptop screen before he leaned in and did as Charlie suggested. It was as if Nick was making a very, conscious effort of it.

Then, of course, the most conflicting part of it all had been how Nick had rejected getting his number at the end of their time together. Despite insisting he’d make it up to Charlie over and over, he turned down the idea of making communication between them easier by just taking Charlie’s number. That had made Charlie feel very foolish. Like he’d definitely misread any positives about their interactions and had read far more into it than there was to and had glossed over all the negatives because his mind was cruel and bending his reality to fit a narrative that didn’t actually exist.

Charlie was almost fully convinced he’d gotten it all wrong. All the good stuff anyway. And that he’d likely just been played like a fiddle by Nick Nelson so he’d have someone facilitate getting his last-minute assignment done. Despite feeling that way, Charlie couldn’t help but sneaking a glance over at Nick right before he disappeared into his own flat, ready for their day to fade into a memory that would feel more like a dream in the long run. He just wanted one more moment to remember that it was real. And that’s when it hit him that maybe his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him.

Because when Charlie looked back at Nick, Nick turned his face at the exact same time and looked right back at Charlie. And for a moment they’d stayed just like that. Just staring intently at each other, unspoken words jumping out in the one single glance. Just like it had felt the first time they’d ever met eyes in the almost exact same fashion. Though neither of them brought that up, that moment confirmed to Charlie that it had existed, and they were both aware of it. The look behind Nick’s eyes during both of those interactions felt something like longing, and desire, and understanding.

Charlie should have walked over and questioned it. But the whole day had felt like a push and pull. Like Nick had been pushing Charlie towards him, then pushing him away from him. Like he was unable to decide what he actually wanted to do. And it had made Charlie tired, and unsure of so many things. Charlie doesn’t have the confidence in himself yet to tackle things so straight forward, so he’d done what he usually does when he’s faced with adversity. He walked away from it. He quickly went into his flat, not another word exchanged between the two, and let himself wonder for far too many hours about the whole thing. Because no matter how much he had wanted Nick to just pull him into his arms, Charlie couldn’t have been further confused as to what it was that Nick had wanted.

Since then, Charlie has tried to not let an influx thoughts of Nick Nelson flood his mind and his senses. Mostly because when he does allow himself to wander, he still feel like he can’t make sense of the day. He still can’t seem to fathom a firm grasp on it. There’s also been that very loud thought that, whatever their day meant to either of them, it likely doesn’t matter. Because it’s likely never to be repeated again. For good reason too. If Charlie feels this conflicted over one hang out, he’ll probably feel like a pretzel if they have any more. He hasn’t wanted to get hung up on it. He’s been okay with forgetting it ever happened and focusing his energy elsewhere and on others. On people like Daniel, who’ve made their intentions with Charlie crystal clear and straight forward. Daniel doesn’t pull back or push him away.

And he hasn’t mentioned it to Amy, or anyone else, for those very reasons. Well, because of that and also because she’d probably tease him relentlessly for it and insist he’s crushing on Nick. Which he isn’t.

Or at least, he isn’t trying to.

Nick continuing to act like a total juxtaposition isn’t helping on that front. He hasn’t reached out or cared to make an attempt to reach out to Charlie, despite knowing they’re neighbors, since the last, and first, time they spoke over a week ago. But he’s apparently hunted Amy down to ask what Charlie’s favorite dinner dish is, clearing trying to keep his word on making it up to Charlie for the help he’d provided.

Charlie really doesn’t understand a damn thing when it comes to Nick Nelson. He’s like a math problem that, no matter what kind of methodology Charlie throws it at, he can’t seem to solve. And even worse, he doesn’t understand why he’s so stuck on it. Why he can’t simply brush past it. Move on. Let go.

Charlie blinks up at Amy, bringing himself back to the present.

He’s aware that on the other side of the room, Amy’s question has even caught Jess’ attention. She’s stopped strumming her guitar and is looking over at them expectantly.

“Um,” Charlie swallows, feeling a bit at a loss for the appropriate words, “I’m not – he did what?”

“I’m just walking by the courtyard, right,” Amy explains, animatedly swinging her arms and marching her feet, “just minding my business, coming back from pints with Darce and I hear someone call my name. It’s a bloke’s voice so I just, naturally, ignore ‘em. But then,” Amy pauses, giving Charlie wide eyes for effect, “I hear it again and I’m like about to yell out, ‘I’m a lesbian, fuck off!’ when I turn and see a very eager, very fast Nick Nelson sprinting towards me.”

Charlie sees it perfectly in his mind. Suddenly he’s jealous Amy’s seen Nick flushed and out of breath and Charlie hasn’t. Because wow, if his imagination is even half as good as reality, it must be a sight.

“In my head I’m like, ‘what the fuck is Nick Nelson running towards me for?’” Amy continues, being as animated as ever with her hands, “but before I can even ask him, he asks me, all polite and shy and shit, what your favorite food for dinner is. Tries to explain that he’s not being a creep and he owes you one. And I’m here thinking, ‘what could Charlie Spring possibly owe you for Nick Nelson, when you two don’t even know one another?’”, she tucks her chin slightly and gives Charlie an unamused glare, “unless you do know each other, someway, somehow, and you’ve not told me about it. So, tell me. Has Nick Nelson lost his mind?”

Charlie doesn’t think Nick’s lost his mind, but he might just make Charlie lose his. Instead of focusing on how he’s going to answer Amy’s question, all Charlie can focus on is wondering what Nick is going to do with the information Amy gave him regarding Charlie’s favorite dinner food.

Is he going to ask Charlie out to dinner?

 Is he going to show up at his doorstep with bags of food?

 Charlie’s head spins at the possibilities and his heart races as the thought of spending more time with Nick. An occurrence he didn’t think would ever be repeated. And especially not so soon.

“Earth to Charlie,” Amy says in a sing-song voice, waving a hand in front of Charlie’s face.

Charlie tries to get his mind to stop reeling and focuses on the conversation being had.

He looks up at Amy, “what did you tell him my favorite dinner dish was?”

He hears Jess snicker from the sofa couch at the same time Amy looks at him affronted, “are you deflecting, Charles?”

Charlie is certainly deflecting, but he’s very curious as to what Amy told Nick. And even more curious, seething with it actually, as to what Nick might do with the information.

“No, I’m genuinely wondering.”

Amy gives him a sarcastic smile, “I told him you love a good goat cheese salad with beets. Lots and lots of beets.”

Charlie knows that Amy is well aware how much he hates goat cheese on his salad and can’t stand the taste of beets.

“You would never do me so wrong.”

“And you would never do me so wrong by not telling me if you have been salaciously conspiring with Nick Nelson!”

Charlie can’t help the fit of giggles that escape his mouth at Amy’s little outburst. She really is the worst when she feels out of the loop. Jess laughs along with him, clearly finding as much amusement in Amy’s behavior as Charlie is. They look at each other from across the room and Charlie knows they’re thinking the same thing. Amy looks between them and throws her hand up.

“Now you’ve got Jess on your side too, huh?”

Jess quickly defends herself, “hey, I’m on no one’s side. To be fair, I’m just as curious about this whole thing as you.”

That’s when all the attention goes back to Charlie and questioning eyes hit him from all angles.

Charlie feels like he can’t hold back this little piece of Nick he’s kept to himself. He also thinks there’s really no point. It’s not much of anything. And also, he’s sure if he doesn’t give something up, Amy won’t either and perhaps Nick entrusted in her what he plans to do with the information she gave him. And Charlie really, really wants to know what that is.

He sighs, “there’s really not much to tell, honestly. We ran into each other at the library about a week ago. Completely by chance, and we talked a little bit. One thing led to another, and I ended up helping him with some of his history course work. That’s it.”

Amy and Jess share a look before their gazes return to Charlie.

“Is that what he owes you for?” Amy asks.

Charlie nods curtly, “yeah.”

Amy looks at Charlie like she’s processing.

“And is that all that happened?”

“Yes.”

“Then how come you didn’t mention it?”

Charlie’s not sure how to answer that without sounding entirely pathetic.

He shrugs noncommittally, “it didn’t seem like something worth mentioning, honestly. I thought he was mainly fibbing when he said he’d make it up to me or whatever. We didn’t even exchange numbers or anything.”

Because he didn’t want to. I definitely tried.

He doesn’t say that part out loud. Hoping that if he downplays it, Jess and Amy won’t see past his half-truths.

Amy eyes Charlie suspiciously, and for a moment, Charlie thinks she’s discovered that there’s way more than Charlie’s letting on. But then she drops her hands from over her chest and seems to relax, and Charlie knows she’s not going to push and prod anymore.

“Well, he seems very keen on it. Might just show up here with a bouquet of flowers with the dinner.”

Charlie tries to not let himself imagine it. Because that exact scenario is quite literally everything he could wish for.

“I doubt that,” Charlie says instead, “what did you tell him my favorite dinner food is then?”

“You know what your favorite dinner food is, Charles. Or I would hope you do.”

Amy moves away from him, seemingly satisfied with the information she’s collected from Charlie and not caring to engage in more conversation about it. Which Charlie is only partially thankful for. He has his own questions for Amy. And his questions involve trying to figure out exactly what Nick plans to do with the information Amy provided him. Or what she could gather on what he plans to do, based off their conversation.

Charlie follows her with his eyes as she moves towards their kitchen area.

He tries to sound not too euthanistic and not too interested when he asks, “did he say, or maybe mention, what he plans to do with that information?”

Amy smirks as she opens their fridge, looking at Charlie like she can see right through his question and straight to his heart. Nick’s name written at the very center of it.

“Hoping for a little dinner date, then?” she teases.

Charlie instantly regrets asking and letting his perpetual curiosity when it comes to Nick Nelson get the better of him.

Charlie rolls his eyes, “did he say or not, Amy? I just don’t want to be caught off guard.”

Amy doesn’t respond right away, clearly enjoying dragging this out to watch for Charlie’s reaction. If he squirms under the anticipation of her answer, she’ll know where he stands. He does his best to keep his exterior cool, calm and collected as he watches her reach for a can of coke in their fridge and pop it open.

She’s still smirking at Charlie as she takes her first sip of the beverage, making an exaggerated “ah” sound as she does. She clearly enjoys having Charlie on edge, dragging it out until he steps over and reveals his true feelings.

She stares at Charlie quietly for another moment or two before leaning one of her arms on the kitchen island, “he didn’t say anything other than ‘thanks’ and then walked off. And honestly, I didn’t care or think to ask because I was mostly seething at the possibility of something far more interesting going on between the two of you and you not having told me about it.”

Charlie silently curses himself for not having provided the information to Amy sooner so perhaps she would have been more invested in the situation. Maybe then she would’ve asked Nick the right questions and she’d be able to give Charlie a better picture of what to expect. Because now Charlie is not going to be able to stop thinking about it. Or him. He’s going to have Nick on replay in his mind like he’s Charlie’s favorite song. He’s going to let him mind think and create different scenarios as to what Nick will do now that he knows Charlie’s favorite dinner dish. And he’s going to drive himself insane with the anticipation of wondering when exactly Nick will do anything with the information.

The only thought that helps Charlie not kick himself is that he’s not sure it would’ve made a difference if Amy had known. Amy is nosy, but not with people whom she doesn’t know on a personal level. She’s generally not one to poke or prod around to people who she doesn’t consider friends. The outcome might’ve been exactly the same.

So, Charlie would’ve been going insane in his head anyway.

“Nope,” Charlie eventually confirms for Amy, “nothing very interesting which is why I didn’t say anything about it.”

“Kind of anticlimactic, Charles,” Amy weighs in.

Tell me about it, he thinks.

He thinks Darcy was right when she called Nick Nelson a mystery. And when she said he’d likely remain that way. Because all Charlie has come up with all of his direct and indirect interactions with him are blanks. He has nothing but assumptions and theories, but no concrete answers.

The mystery that is Nick Nelson lives to see another day.

“Alright, I’m home! What is so pressing—”

The words die on his lips as he catches sight of Amy leaning over their kitchen counters, a very telling smile on her face as she pops a chip in her mouth. It takes Charlie a moment to assess, to really take in his surroundings. When he does, he realizes there are containers of food laid out all over their kitchen island. Containers that he automatically recognizes from his favorite chips and fish restaurant on campus – ‘The Fisherman’s Lover.’

He’d tried the restaurant on his first week on campus with Amy and had liked it so much he’d had it for dinner every single day for a straight week after. After that first week, Charlie had to bring himself back down to reality. He had to remind himself he’s a university student living on a budget. He can’t afford to eat out every day, even if he really wishes money was not a hurdle and he could get himself fish and chips every evening. Since then, he’s compromised with himself and only orders food from there once a week. It’s been a good decision for his pockets as well as his physique, something Charlie doesn’t pay a neurotic amount of attention to these days but still remains a lingering thought in the back of his mind.

And now there’s so much of it laid right in front of him, like someone suddenly decided money is not a hurdle and Charlie’s budget be damned.

         He’s been in the library all day, trying to get his coursework done so he doesn’t have his responsibilities weighing on him for his night ahead. He has plans with Daniel. Eventually, Charlie replied and agreed to go on another date with him. He knew that if at any point in the night Daniel was expecting something Charlie still wasn’t sure he was ready to give him, he could just say no and come back home. Charlie’s getting better every day at putting his needs and wants first and verbalizing them to others around him. So, When Amy had texted him to come home immediately, he imagined it wasn’t a true emergency (because it’s Amy) but something that was important enough that he should hurt home to. Because he’d been pretty much done with coursework, he’d been able to fulfill he requests rather quickly.

         However, the last thing he’d expected to come home to, the last thing he’d expected to be needed so quickly at home for, is what stands before him.

         “Did you buy out their whole bloody inventory?” Charlie asks, removing his backpack from his shoulder as he approaches the island. The smell of the freshly battered fish and the fried to perfection chips sends him stomach churning with sudden hunger.

         “It would seem like it, right?”

         “What’s the occasion? Not that I’m complaining!” Charlie quickly adds in, so grateful for Amy’s out-of-the-blue but grand gesture,  “Believe me, this is everything I could dream of but I’m just wondering why?”

         “Not sure,” Amy’s smile is as pristine and impish as ever, and it dawns on Charlie that he’s missing something, has been missing something since she’s walked through the door. And she’s about to reveal to him.

“I wish I would’ve done something so thoughtful. But this was actually dropped off by someone else.”

         Charlie’s mind knows the answer quicker than he can even process it.

         “Nick?” Charlie asks, trying to make sure his voice doesn’t sound overly enthusiastic, so Amy won’t catch on to how flustered he is at the realization.

         “Yup,” she pops the ‘p’ and her smile grows wider.

         Charlie doesn’t know why, but the first thing he thinks to ask is, “Oh. He dropped this off? You spoke with him?”

         He doesn’t know why he thinks that’s the best reply if he’s trying to avoid her continuing to push the narrative he’s putting so much effort in trying to dispel. Even to his own ears he can hear the eagerness of his own inquiry. The thrill he finds in Nick showing up at his doorstep for dinner for him, and the pangs of disappointment he feels that he wasn’t around to receive him.

         Amy’s smile continues to persist and Charlie’s sure the next words to leave her mouth will be at his expense. It surprises him when she replies, “He wasn’t there when I opened the door. He had someone else drop it off. But I know it’s from him because who else would provide us with such lovely dinner only three days after I told him your favorite dinner was ‘The Fisherman’s Lover?’ Seems like too much of a coincidence.”

         Charlie agrees with Amy. There’s no way this whole charade isn’t Nick’s doing. But Charlie can’t help the frustration he feels at Nick’s delivery of it. Frustration he’s not even sure he’s allowed to feel but can feel stretching out through his very being anyway. Frustration he’s trying very hard not to let show because he knows Amy will pick up on it and draw her own conclusions as to why he’s feeling that way that Charlie’s not sure are accurate or he wants uncovered by anyone but himself.

 He knows a lot of it is the confusion he continues to feel over Nick’s actions. This is just another added onto the list.

 He did a kind, and thoughtful, gesture for Charlie and his flat mates, because of course Nick would be too polite to grab dinner for Charlie and not everyone else he lives with –  but wasn’t the one to even make the delivery. He went out of his way to make something that is very personal, impersonal. And Charlie can’t help but wonder why.

He knows it can be as simple as Nick not having the time. Nick being busy elsewhere but still wanting to follow through. But there’s something in Charlie’s gut that tells him that’s not it. That Nick could’ve done this himself, but he deliberately chose this route. He deliberately chose the road that would least likely lead him straight to Charlie, even if that seemed to be the intended destination.

“Well, this is nice,” Charlie says, hoping his voice sounds exactly like the emotion he’s trying to convey – appreciation, happiness, delight –  and not whatever he’s actually feeling, “’least now I don’t have to worry about food before I meet up Daniel.”

“Mmm,” Amy hums, “It’s very good too. Fresh.”

Charlie goes to grab one of the containers, trying to avoid continuing to talk about it. Because the more he does, just like every other time he thinks about Nick Nelson, the more he’ll entangle himself in a web of confusion, forged by all of Nick’s conflicting gestures.

As if Amy, or the universe, or Nick himself, finds joy in adding to that web of confusion, Amy slides a rectangular envelope across the kitchen counter to Charlie.

Charlie’s about to ask what that’s about when he looks down and sees his name spelled out in unfamiliar handwriting written on it. Charlie’s eyebrows pinch, and he looks over at Amy. She’s chewing on another chip, but that smile is still shining through.

“He left a note for you too.”

Charlie just stares at it for a moment. Taking in Nick’s penmanship. It’s exactly what Charlie would imagine it to be like – a bit messy. His Is are a bit crooked and his rs are not entirely distinguishable from vs. But it’s perfect because it’s so entirely him. And he’s fully aware that it’s a crazy thought for him to have, considering he barely knows him. But still, the sentiment remains.

Charlie’s hand shake as he picks it up. He steadies them, hoping Amy doesn’t notice their light tremor. He’s not fully aware as to why he’s so easily riddled with nerves over an envelope containing lord knows what in it. But he knows a lot of it, if not all of it, has to do with the envelope, and its contents, being from Nick.

Charlie simply eyes the envelope. As much as he’s dying to know what’s inside, he doesn’t feel comfortable opening it with Amy staring at him like he’s some sort of tourist attraction. He flicks his eyes up to her and tries to feign nonchalance as he sets it back down gently.

“Not going to open it?” Amy questions.

“Not right now,” Charlie says, looking away from her so she can’t see where his apprehension is coming from by a single stare, “I want to eat first. I don’t have that much time left to get ready to meet Daniel.”

It’s quiet between them as Charlie opens up one of the containers, the battered fish and golden chips looking as great and smelling even greater, just like the always do. It’s enough to dull his senses a bit. To dull out the rush of emotions he’s feeling from Nick’s gesture. From his envelope.

He forces himself to start picking at the food, truly feeling the hunger rumble in his belly and chasing that feeling. Because there’s something else in the pit of his stomach too, and it’s the shape of Nick. And Charlie can’t let that consume him. Especially not in front of his most meddling, opinionated, friend. He tries not to let his gaze wonder to the envelope, burning his curiosity as it sits right next to his container of food.

“Well, I’m going to go eat in my room because I don’t have a hot date tonight, and I want to pig out and watch Love Island,” Amy eventually announces.

When Charlie looks at her, he can’t quite read through her expression what her intentions are. Amy’s not one to ever eat alone. She’s not one to do much of anything alone. She likes to be constantly surrounded by her friends. So, it’s strange she’s opting for that option now, when Charlie is obviously available. Or making it seem like he is. He wonders whether Amy’s gotten to know Charlie better than he’s noticed. And if she can tell that he’s itching to open the envelope but he’s not entirely comfortable doing it in front of her.

He doesn’t try to uncover her reasoning behind it though. Truly, because it’s not what he has most of his attention on currently. There’s something looming over his mind at a much larger scale, and her absence will make it easier to unravel it.

“Alright, then,” Charlie attempts to give her a genuine smile, appreciation ebbing through his emotions if she’s doing what he suspects she is, “enjoy your free dinner and your crappy reality TV.”

“Oh, I will. Can you put Jess’ away for now? She’s practicing with her little band, so she won’t be home for a bit.”

Charlie nods, “will do.”

Amy gives him a nod back and then she’s picking up her container, turning to exit and retreat to the comfort of her bedroom. Right before she turns the corner, she stops, and looks at Charlie over her shoulder, “thank Nick for me if you see him, which – don’t ask why, but I have a feeling you will soon.”

Before Charlie can question why Amy has that feeling, and then refute her reasoning all together by telling her she’s likely wrong, she’s turning again and disappearing from his view. He doesn’t let himself ponder over Amy’s words, and forces himself to focus on finishing his delicious fish and chips instead. He only shifts his gaze to the envelope a couple of times while he does, trying his hard to show restraint and control.

His efforts end up falling short very quickly. Charlie’s embers of curiosity eventually grow into a seizing fire that can only be put out the moment Charlie rips open the envelope Nick left for him. It’s burning through his insides, coursing like a forest fire that can’t be stopped. Until it is by revelation and revelation alone.

He reaches for the envelope, picks up his container, and heads to the privacy of his own bedroom. Even though he’s sure Amy picked up on his desire to do this alone and actually obliging him, he doesn’t want to risk her walking in on him at the kitchen ripping open the envelope with eager fingers. Even more so, he doesn’t want her to walk in on him mid-way through going through whatever the envelope holds inside of it with either a dopey smile or a resentful frown on his face.

 Once he’s in the comfort and confinement of his room, he sits on the edge of his bed. He holds the envelope out before him and stares. He traces over his name, and his original thought remains. The handwriting screams out Nick and Charlie thinks he’d probably recognize it as his anywhere, even if he was completely unaware of it being his.

He shakes his head, getting rid of us such intense and irrational thoughts and thumbs the flap of the envelope to gently rip it open.

When he does, he’s not surprised to find a folded piece of paper inside. There are other things, but all Charlie cares for is what Nick has, undoubtedly, written in the folded piece of paper.

His careful hands unfold it, and before him, he sees a lot more of Nick’s handwriting. Words laid out on paper for Charlie by Nick. It’s a letter, and Charlie’s heart practically leaps out of his chest and scurries down the hall, ready to plunge itself right into Nick’s arms. He puts a hand on his chest, as if it will keep his heart from doing such a thing, and it keep it right in place.

He starts to read the letter, and instantly, his mind is able to replicate Nick’s voice as if Charlie has the pleasure of just hearing it seconds before. He didn’t, but his mind is good at remembering things Charlie tries so hard to forget for his own good.

‘Hi Charlie!

 I hope Amy didn’t lie to me to embarrass me, or just for shits and giggles (both seem like something she’d do to be honest), and this place really is your favorite for dinner. Even if it isn’t, I do hope you enjoy your meal because well, this place is actually pretty great. (Fun fact: it’s actually my favorite on campus too).  Aside from that, you do deserve to enjoy it for being so nice and offering to help me the other day. You really didn’t have to, since you barely even know me! But you did, and I really can’t thank you enough for it. It meant a lot to me. I don’t know if this accurately shows you just how much because I know this is a very cliché way to make it up to you, but hey we’ve all got to eat haha. I’ve tried to make it a bit more original by throwing in gift cards for you to use at this same place whenever you’re feigning for some fish and chips in the future. And if Amy lied, and you don’t care for this restaurant, then I apologize but I’m sure you’ll grow to like it because it really does have some of the best fish and chips I’ve ever had!!

Thanks again, Charlie 

Your neighbor,

Nick Nelson.’

Charlie reads over the note twice. Three. Maybe even four times. Maybe even more. He does it so much, he loses count. He can’t help himself. Everything about it tugs at something inside Charlie. And the revelation that Nick’s favorite food spot on campus happens to be the same as Charlie’s sticks to the surface of his mind. He knows it could mean nothing more than a mere coincidence. Charlie considers himself a smart, and logical person, and understands coincidences are more common than people know. But for some reason, when it comes to Nick, nothing feels like a coincidence. Everything feels meaningful and purposeful, even if it’s due to no effort on either of their parts. It almost as if there are parts of Nick tethered and tied to parts of Charlie Like there’s something attaching them to one another that is neither tangible nor easily explained.

Charlie tries not to chase that feeling. Because there’s the stark and bleak reality that pales in comparison. The reality that Nick tried to be as far removed from the gesture as possible. That although he bought dinner for Charlie, and wrote him a sweet and endearing letter, he didn’t go opt for the option of taking Charlie out to dinner. Which would have been the option that would’ve provided them with actual time spent together. Nick decided on the option that wouldn’t provide that, and instead would keep them at a reasonable, measurable distance. He stuck so feverishly to his decision that he didn’t even dare deliver the food himself for the risk that he’d catch Charlie at his own doorstep.

It's all so inconsistent and contradicting and once again, Charlie finds himself feeling stumped by Nick’s decisions. He feels the same tug of war, the same push and pull, from Nick that he did that day at the library.

Charlies sighs and begins to fold the note back to its original state, where the writing on it wasn’t visible anymore. He doesn’t think if he continues to read it it’s going to help him reason or make sense of the choices Nick’s made so far. He tries to distract himself by grabbing the envelope and finding exactly what Nick said he would inside. Inside, are 3 different gift cards for ‘The Fisherman’s Lover,’ each for $20 pounds.

And at that, Charlie’s back at square one.

Nick Nelson just spent a lot of money on Charlie to repay him for spending three hours of his day helping him on coursework. It’s such a mindboggling, over-the-top gesture for someone whose number he didn’t even want to take, whose face he didn’t want to risk seeing again by asking him to either go have dinner with him or dropping off the food himself.

Nick Nelson is really fucking with his mind.

As Charlie tries to understand why, his phone vibrates in his pocket. He fishes it out to see Daniel’s texted him.

Daniel (barebacks): can’t wait to see you tonight. Ur going to be the best part of my day as u usually are x.

Charlie’s heart flutters with appreciation. Appreciation for someone who is so outwardly forward with his affection and adoration for Charlie, even if most of it stems from lust instead of anything romantic. It doesn’t bother Charlie that it isn’t the former, because Charlie feels similarly towards Daniel. And they’ve both been very clear with one another where they stand. They’re not looking to sweep each other off their feet, go out to romantic dinners, and profess well stated declarations of love to one another. They’re looking for pleasure in its most primal and physical from. Charlie can easily bask in Daniel’s attention. In his careful touch and his desire to make Charlie feel good. No confusing or conflicting emotions or actions involved.

There’s no push and pull with Daniel. There’s just a pull. A sexual, superficial, pull but one that fulfills Charlie’s needs without leaving him wondering what those needs are.

And that’s what and who Charlie needs to be focused on. Not his neighbor, who feels like so much more, who he can’t quite make any sense of.

Charlie puts the note back in the envelope along with the gift cards. He stands from his bed and goes over to his bedside table. He opens the first drawer, and carefully makes a spot for it in the corner. He stares at it for a moment longer, before burying it underneath his socks and underwear. As if that way it could bury whatever blossomed between them that day in the library.

No. Before that, his mind reminds him.

Charlie is made painfully aware that it blossomed the first time they ever locked eyes, and only seemed to spring to life even more that day at the library.

He closes the drawer roughly, tells his mind to quiet down, and texts Daniel back right after.

Charlie: can’t wait to see you either xxx.

         It’s a little excessive, but Charlie thinks that if he plays it up, he’ll convince himself it’s perfect the way it is.  

Charlie spends the rest of his evening getting ready for his night with Daniel, and putting in the effort as he does that Daniel deserves from him. He does all this while pushing any sprouting thoughts of Nick Nelson to the ground, squishing them down with a hard stomp of his foot before they have a chance to take over his entire mind. And it would be so effortless for them to accomplish that.

         He showers to loud music, blaring and jarring and deafening so he’s able to block out the echoes of Nick’s voice, and his words, in his mind. He fixes his hair, and dresses himself in a plain white t-shirt, a denim jacket, and his favorite blacked ripped skinny jeans while not thinking about how he had the very same pair on the day he first laid eyes on Nick. And when he exits his flat about an hour later, ready to meet Daniel at a bar he picked out in town for them, he certainly doesn’t look towards Nick’s own flat. He definitely doesn’t contemplate going over, knocking on his door, and saying thank you for the dinner. And he doesn’t even waste a thought on pushing past Nick’s door, slamming Nick’s back against his own wall and then asking him, ‘what gives?’

         No, Charlie doesn’t let his mind do him such a disservice. Because Charlie didn’t come all the way to Leeds to repeat and foster old and detrimental habits. If Charlie is an afterthought to Nick, then Nick is an afterthought to Charlie. And if he isn’t, then he needs to do a better job at showing it.

         Charlie makes himself comfortable in the back of the uber as it drives him to meet Daniel at a quiet Asian inspired bar in town. The entire car ride over Charlie is battling with his mind who seems to not be focused on what he wants it to. Instead, it keeps bringing him back to a corner in his bedside table, on the top drawer. At one point, Charlie even asks the uber driver to turn up the radio. Desperate to find a solution to drown out his mind.

 When he arrives, Daniel’s waiting right outside the bar door for him. His smile is unabashedly on display when he sees Charlie walking towards him. Charlie takes him in and immediately feels a pang of desire in his gut. It’s not an intense, earth-shattering feeling. It’s not like – no. Charlie’s not going to let his mind draw up that comparison. Because this is good. It’s good. It’s fine. Daniel looks better than fine. In fact, he looks really good tonight. Not that Daniel doesn’t usually look good. Charlie’s been attracted to his honey-brown, slicked back hair and ink-stained skin since the moment they met. But tonight, there’s something more to Daniel. Maybe it’s his leather jacket, or his tight-as-skin black pants, or his black collared shirt, or the way his hair is falling perfectly over his forehead. Or maybe it’s just the charged atmosphere of what Charlie knows he wants by the time the night ends. Whatever it is, Charlie can tell he’s pulled out all the stops for him tonight.

Charlie’s still not sure he’s ready to end the night with Daniel the way Daniel is likely hoping they do. He’s still not sure however Daniel plans to charm him tonight will be enough. But he’s not running away from it either. He’s open. Charlie’s told himself he’s going to follow the feeling the night brings him in Daniel’s presence. And right now, it’s at least getting rid of another nagging, and pressing thought in his mind.

By the time Charlie’s standing right in front of him, Daniel greets Charlie with a bone-crushing hug, like he always does. It’s sweet, and warm, even if it’s devoid of anything too electrifying. Even if it doesn’t send his stomach in a whirl, or his heart into an earth-shaking stammer.

“You look so good,” Daniel whispers in his ear as his arms are wrapped around Charlie.

Charlie smiles against Daniel’s neck, “you too.”

When they pull away from each other, Charlie can see the glint in Daniel’s eyes that Charlie is not sure will still be there by the end of it. He’s certain it depends on how the night will unfold and ultimately end for them. Whether it will go as Daniel predicts it will, or Charlie will have to force them into another reality.

Daniel holds the door out for Charlie to step through, and Charlie thanks him as he does. He takes it in the quiet ambiance once he’s inside. Unlike the other two times they’ve been out, this place is a lot more intimate. The lighting is dim, barely a glow over the overall dark room. The décor is hard to make out, but it’s culturally appropriate, with Japanese lettering on the wall and gold and red accents throughout the establishment. There’s a low hum of music in the background and the volume of the few people chattering about matches. It’s the quietest place they’ve ever been to with one another, and Charlie immediately understands the mood Daniel is trying to set even with the place he picked out for them tonight.

 Daniel steps around Charlie with ease and a friendly smile. He beckons Charlie to follow and leads them to the bar. It’s a circular countertop made of what Charlie can recognize as bamboo. It’s trapped under glass and tiny warm lights that give off a faint illumination.

Daniel takes a seat in one of the red-leather barstools, with gold ink Japanese lettering on the face of it. Charlie follows suit and sits right next to him to his right.

Instantly, Daniel turns to him, and their knees knock together. Charlie knows it’s on purpose, can feel Daniel’s intent on wanting to just have them touching tonight. He also knows he should feel a jolt of electricity run through his spine at the contact. He should feel a spark start at the base of his spine that leaves flickers of fire across it as it makes its way to the back of his neck. But all Charlie feels is unsure, and slightly underwhelmed by how little he feels.

He tries to mask it by giving Daniel a weak smile.

Daniel gives him a strong one.

“Can I order you my favorite cocktail from here?” Daniel asks, his voice low and sultry. It’s so obviously being done on purpose, and Charlie tries to let himself lean into it instead of feeling a bit irritated by the charades.

“You’ve been here before?” Charlie inquires.

“Yeah,” Daniel replies, “not too many times, but enough to have tried one of their best cocktails. So, will you trust me?”

Charlie knows there’s a double meaning behind Daniel’s question. He’s not just asking Charlie to trust him to order a drink he’s betting he’ll like for him. He’s asking Charlie to trust him in other ways too. Charlie’s still not sure whether he does, but a drink won’t hurt.

He shrugs, “go for it.”

Daniel stares at Charlie for a beat longer, a smile on his lips that conveys everything his mouth won’t say. And then he’s turning from Charlie slightly, only enough to flag down one of the bartenders and order them a cocktail that is definitely unique to the bar he’s brought them to because Charlie’s never heard the name of it anywhere else.

They spend their time swapping stories about their respective days. Daniel works in a small tattoo shop and tells Charlie about all the designs he tattooed for the day and strange stories about the people who he tattooed the designs on. He explains to Charlie how people who get tattooed love oversharing, primarily because they’re stuck there for hours and bored but also because sometimes it’s easier to tell your problems to a stranger.

“Sometimes I feel like half my job is to be a highly underqualified, underpaid therapist,” Daniel jokes.

Charlie tells Daniel about his day too, which isn’t as exciting or interesting in comparison. He talks about his lectures, his coursework, and he absolutely does not mention Nick’s kind dinner gesture. He leaves it out on purpose. For the sake of not having it overcloud his mind again. He’s been doing a good job so far keeping it tucked away in a corner. Charlie can feel its presence, though, like a gray cloud looming over a blue sky. Waiting for just the chance to turn the sky from a bright blue to an overcast gray. But at the very least it’s not stuck in the forefront of his mind. Which Charlie would appreciate more, if actively not trying to talk about it didn’t just make it harder to not think about it.

He pushes it down with Daniel’s soft laughter. His gentle and purposeful touch. A hand on his knee that travels lightly up his thigh. Squeezes when Charlie says something particularly endearing or funny. A brush of his curls with Daniel’s fingertips when one strays a bit over Charlie’s eyes. He floods it out with the sweet taste of his cocktail, surprisingly refreshing and thoroughly enjoyable. Daniel was right about Charlie liking it. Because he likes it enough to let Daniel order four more for him and let it continue to wash him ashore to Daniel, and not to where he truly longs to be.

By the time the night starts to dwindle down, Daniel finally approaches the topic head on. He reveals the elephant that’s been hanging in the same room with them long before they even arrived to the bar. He calls out their bluffs, blows out the smoke.

Confidentially, but not quite meeting Charlie’s, he says, “I was thinking we could head back to my place after this. Would you be interested in that?”

The question doesn’t catch Charlie off guard. He knows what Daniel’s expectations, what his desires for how they night will go, are. He’s known since the moment the plan was made. What he still doesn’t know is if he wants to meet those expectations.

Twirling the straw of his last alcoholic beverage for the night, Charlie looks at it as he replies, “I do have lectures tomorrow.”

“Don’t you start a bit later, though?”

Charlie curses himself for texting Daniel enough for him to have such a knowing about his school schedule. He should find it somewhat endearing and flattering that Daniel’s paid close attention to such details, but he doesn’t feel much of any of that. Instead, he just feels cornered and left without excuses.

Charlie’s about to tell Daniel that he just wants to head home, that he’s going to call himself an Uber, when he feels Daniel place a gentle hand over his own that rests on his lap. The delicate graze catches Charlie’s attention, and without a second thought, Charlie turns his face to catch Daniel’s dark brown eyes with his own.

“Charlie,” Daniel speaks softly, leaning in just slightly, “I think we’ve had a pretty good time together these last couple of times we’ve hung out. I think we both know what we want out of this, and I think we’re both okay with what that is. But I can feel your hesitation right now. I guess I’m just wondering if I’ve read it all wrong?”

Charlie takes a moment to process Daniel’s words before answering his question. The thing is, Daniel hasn’t read it wrong. He’s read it just for what it is. The last couple of times they’ve seen each other, Charlie has enjoyed the feel of Daniel’s tongue in his own mouth. The feel of his lips on his skin, around his cock. The ache of his hands grasping at Charlie with wanton need and pure lust. He’s liked the attention Daniel has offered him, without the crushing weight of something more than Charlie can’t give him because that feeling is not there. He’s liked and continued to like that there’s no pressure to them. It’s fun, and it’s freeing, and Daniel has never been selfish during their encounters or greedy or cruel.

So, what is Charlie’s hesitation?

He’s not Nick Nelson. And you want to feel that feeling when you have sex again. And he’s the only person who can give it to you, his mind loudly proclaims.  

Charlie tells it to shut the fuck up and shakes himself out of it.

Again, his mind is speaking thoughts that have no right to be there. He crushes them down with acceptance. Acceptance that what Daniel offers him is exactly what Charlie did come to Leeds for. New opportunities. New experiences. Fun.

“You haven’t,” Charlie eventually says in a breath, “you haven’t read it wrong. I think I’m just… nervous.”

Daniel’s lips turn upward, not in a mocking way, but in a way where he can sympathize with Charlie. He removes his hand from Charlie’s and places it on his cheek, cupping it with a firm but soothing grip.

“I promise I’ll take care of you,” he practically whispers, “haven’t I done that already?”

Charlie nods, small but sure. Because really, Daniel has. Daniel has provided Charlie with sexual experiences that he’s never had the luxury of before. Maybe it isn’t love. Maybe it isn’t the exploding fireworks over a dark night sky that illuminates all of Charlie’s heart in a way he craves. Maybe it isn’t more than just sweet, physical release. But it’s something he’s never had before. And Daniel, not anyone else, has given that to him. Charlie thinks that has to count for something.

“Let’s get out of here,” Charlie says, and then before Daniel jumps out of his chair, he adds, “but you need to get me back home at a decent time. I do really have lectures tomorrow.”

Daniel chuckles, and salutes Charlie like he’s a soldier, Charlie’s his sergeant, and he’s at the mercy of all his orders.

         Daniel takes care of the bill, and when they walk out into the night, he intertwines his fingers with Charlie’s as he walks them to his car. Again, it doesn’t send the rush or thrill of budding love through Charlie’s core. But it does send a zing of desire and positive anticipation through him.

         He reminds himself that what he and Daniel have is good. It’s good because it’s predicable and familiar. Charlie’s not left wondering how Daniel feels of him, or what he wants from him, because Daniel has made his intentions clear from the start. And with every kiss, every text, every touch, he’s kept those intentions clear and consistent. He hasn’t driven Charlie to try and decode his actions and words just to know what he’s thinking. His thoughts are laid out for Charlie so willingly. For Charlie to read each one at his own discretion.

 So maybe it isn’t love. But it’s enough.

         Charlie just tells himself, throughout where the night takes them, that it is.  

         Charlie exits his favorite beverage spot on campus, the cold evening air hitting him instantly. Usually, he’d wrap his arms around himself, trying to shield himself from the sudden gust of winds that chill him, but his hands are occupied with a cool passion fruit, raspberry lemonade. As he takes another sip, the refreshing taste continues to be satisfying and exactly what he needs – even if it is a strange choice of a drink for someone who’s about to go to a bar and party. Amy teased him the moment he announced he was going to go pick one up while he waited for Amy and Jess to be done getting ready.

         “A lemonade, Charles?” she’d huffed, “we’re not going to church. We’re going to a fucking gay bar for Christ’s sake. Have a beer with us!”

         Charlie had declined and had simply let her protests glide off his skin as he walked out the door with her still calling out to him how lame his choice of a pre-game beverage was.

         Charlie’s going to drink alcohol when he gets to the bar. He’s going to let himself indulge and partake then, but in that moment and this one, he just wanted the refreshing taste of the very same drink he’s just purchased. And Charlie’s getting better and better every day at making choices truly for himself, for his wants, and not for the benefit of anyone else. It’s why almost a week ago, right after he and Daniel had sex, he ended whatever it was that they had going on.

         The decision didn’t stem from having a less than pleasurable night with Daniel. In fact, the sex had been plenty good. Daniel was clearly experienced, and he listened to the silent cues Charlie’s body conveyed, and the verbal ones Charlie had found himself brave enough to speak out on. He was just as giving during sex as he’d been throughout any of their other physical encounters, and Charlie had left his house feeling grateful and content with his decision that he hadn’t been fully sure of until the final tail of their night. He’d been pleasantly surprised to find he held no regrets despite how last minute he'd made up his mind. But he’d also left Daniel’s house feeling different. Sleeping with Daniel, despite understanding that their depths of their relationship was more akin to shallow waters than the vast ocean, had proven something to Charlie. It proved to him that he was capable of a bit of meaningless and casual sex, and able to enjoy it for what it was. It had almost opened the flood gates for Charlie to continue to explore a part of himself he wasn’t even sure existed before he took the leap of faith with Daniel. Now that Charlie is fully aware it does, he can’t see the point in continuing his relationship with Daniel. Their story felt complete after. They’d both filled their purpose to one another and continuing felt like a waste of time, and opportunity, for the both of them.

 So, he’d ended it, feeling proud and, unliked his decision to sleep with him, sure of the decision to end things. Daniel had seemed a little blindsided, like perhaps he’d expected them to regularly keep sleeping with each other after the band aid had been ripped off. First time jitters and worries tossed. But Charlie’s band aid wasn’t about sleeping with Daniel, it was about physical intimacy in general. And what his experience in Daniel had shown him was that he’d been scared of a monster that didn’t actually exist. Now that the monster had revealed itself as a figment of Charlie’s imagination, he wants to continue to explore. And Charlie sees no point in continuing that exploration with one person who was never and is never going to be more than just someone he sleeps around with. To Charlie, if he wants to explore a sexual side to himself with no further commitment, it makes sense to do with other people. Other people who are a lot like Daniel – trustworthy, kind, selfless in bed – but not Daniel himself.

Charlie feels happy. He feels like a chapter in his life has closed. A chapter that held insecurities and fears about something he’d burned out too quickly and too long ago. And now he’s made way for a new chapter. One with a twinkling flame of newfound confidence and a newfound version of himself that he is ready to dive into it. To truly get to know.

He starts to make his way back to his flat to see if Jess and Amy are finally ready, when he looks up. It’s instinctual, like something other worldly has pulled his gaze off the ground and upward and forward. It’s so strong, and such a pull, that Charlie knows exactly who his eyes will land on before they do.

He’s truly not surprised to see a sweaty and slightly flushed Nick Nelson leaving the campus gym across the way from him. He’s not surprised because Charlie’s body only has such a visceral reaction to Nick’s presence. He’s never known his body to almost become awake with something else entirely in someone’s vicinity like it does whenever he’s around Nick’s. It is for that reason and that reason only that Charlie is not surprised. Because other than that, he would truly expect Nick Nelson to have better plans for himself on a Friday night than just a late-night workout session. He would expect Nick to be out with his rugby friends, making the rounds out in town. Drinking, partying, picking up girls that would probably flail into his arms with as much as a single glance from him and little effort beyond that.

But instead, Nick Nelson is exiting the campus gym, in a green hoodie and grey joggers, and his hair pushed back from perspiration. He looks heavenly, like something carved from the Gods himself. Charlie can stay at him for days and never wish to see anything else. Never get bored. Because he’s captivating, he’s picture-perfect, and he’s looking right back at Charlie.

Wait.

He’s looking right at Charlie.

It takes Charlie a moment to realize it, because he’s too entranced by everything that Nick Nelson is, and everything he wishes to do with that information. But then their eyes are meeting, and that spark that sends shivers up and down his spine and flames burning through his skin returns. Make a reappearance from the first time they ever locked eyes to every single time after. Just another moment added to the list.

Nick’s smile takes over his whole face, almost like it’s second-nature for him to smile at Charlie in such a way, as they stare at one another. Before Charlie can register his body movements, his feet are taking him towards Nick and his face is mirroring the same expression. And before he can will his brain to stop listening so effortlessly to his uninhibited heart, he is standing face to face with Nick Nelson, whose met him halfway.

“Hi,” he breathes.

“Hi.”

There’s a comfortable silence that follows for a moment after they’ve greeted each other where they’re simply just smiling at one another. Charlie thinks the whole thing is ridiculous and absurd, but the battle he wants to fight with himself is a pointless one. As much as Charlie hates the gravitational pull he feels with Nick, it is undeniably stronger than any will power he possesses.

Nick lets out a breathy and nervous laugh, “Isn’t it a bit weird that we’re neighbors but this is the first time I’ve seen you in weeks? And here of all places?”

Charlie doesn’t quite have a genuine answer to Nick’s question, although he doubts Nick is expecting one. He does wish he had one though. He does wish the universe could explain to him why it continues to put Nick in his path in the most unlikely of times, in the most random of places.

Charlie gives him a weak shrug of his shoulders, “opposite schedules?” he offers. Although he knows it’s not that simplistic. Nothing about him and Nick feels simple, even if it feels easy.

Nick gives him a small nod, and a lopsided smile that does something to Charlie’s insides. It twists and it squeezes, and it leaves its mark almost immediately.

“Guess so,” Nick says, and then, “how have you been?”

Charlie takes a moment to collect himself internally before replying, “good, yeah. And you?”

“Good,” Nick replies a little too quickly, like it’s a reflex answer instead of a genuine one, “busy, but good. I actually, um, did really great on that paper you helped me with. I was struggling for a moment there with my marks, and that really helped me get back on track.”

Charlie’s smile grows as he feels genuine pride at having had a positive impact on Nick’s life, even in the most miniscule of ways.

“I’m really glad to hear that, Nick.”

Something quick flashes through Nick’s eyes, but it’s gone almost at the same moment that Charlie notices it.

“Yeah, it’s—I really can’t thank you enough.”

Charlie laughs, because Nick truly has done just that.

“You have thanked me enough. And you even got me something to ‘make it up to me’. Just like you said you would.”

Nick’s smile flashes bright through the nighttime’s shadows, “So, Amy didn’t lie to make me look like a complete tosser?”

Charlie giggles, “she did not.”

“Thank God for that,” Nick huffs out a laugh, and it sounds like a relief. Like something he has genuinely been concerned about since he asked her and since he delivered on his promise of making it up to Charlie by trusting her knowledge.

But if you were so concerned, why didn’t you knock on my door and ask me yourself? No – why didn’t you take my number when I offered it to you so you could text me and ask me and maybe we could’ve gotten dinner together? Charlie wants to ask. But he doesn’t of course. Even if Charlie’s feeling more confident than he ever has in his life, he doesn’t dare ask Nick a question that would open the door to something he’s not sure Nick would ever allow himself to walk through.

“It was great, truly. All of it. The dinner and the gift cards,” Charlie contemplates mentioning the letter, before he decides he wants to even if it’s just to gauge Nick’s reaction, “and the letter. That was my favorite part.”

Charlie watches as Nick’s cheeks become a rosy shade of pink at Charlie’s comment, a different flush from the one he’d been sporting when he walked out of the campus gym. It’s not from physical exertion, but from an emotional response to Charlie’s words.

Nick tries to subtly clear his throat, “that was definitely nothing special. I wish it could’ve been but like I told you – I’m not a writer like you. I was a bit embarrassed to even give it to you, actually.”

“Why?” Charlie asks a little too quickly.

“Because I was certain that it wouldn’t hold a candle to anything you’ve ever written.”

As if they’re going tit for that, blow for blow, Charlie can feel his own cheeks heat at the compliment. He’s grateful that his skin is darker than Nick’s and therefore, a lot better at concealing it.

“Well, thank you again for thinking so highly of my writing but I actually really appreciated your note,” Charlie says, his eyes darting a bit around their surroundings to avoid looking at Nick directly in the eyes and not being able to hide the crimson overtaking his shade of skin, “I wanted to thank you for it – all of it, but. I didn’t know how. Knocking on your door felt a bit… intrusive?”

He then does look at Nick, and Nick’s eyes are still right on him. They haven’t left Charlie since they caught each other from across the campus, and Charlie wonders if Nick gives everyone this much attention when he interacts with them, or if it’s specially reserved for Charlie.

Charlie almost puts the question out there to bait Nick, to see if he’ll pull him in and tell Charlie he should’ve. That he’s always welcome to come knocking on his door.

But Nick pushes. Gently.

“I wasn’t expecting a thank you, honestly. It was my ‘thank you’ to you and all I wanted was to make sure it was enough.”

It wasn’t enough. Not because it wasn’t thoughtful or sufficient payment for the favor Charlie provided to Nick, but because Nick didn’t come directly attached to it. Because Nick was actually, all too absent from it.

He doesn’t tell Nick that.

“It was perfect.”

It wasn’t, but it could have been if you would’ve just been more there.

“Glad to hear it.”

Charlie shifts his weight from one foot to another, not sure how to respond to Nick in a way that will keep the conversation going a little longer. Unintentionally, that gives him the answer he’s looking for. Because as he shifts his weight, the light from the streetlamps catches on the pin clasped to Charlie’s baby pink t-shirt. And it catches Nick’s attention.

His eyes slip from Charlie’s face for the first time since they caught each other’s eyes, and land on Charlie’s pin.

It’s no bigger than the size of a nickel, but it’s adorned expertly on Charlie’s shirt. Right over his heart. It’s in the shape of a waving flag, with the colors of the flag representing the “gay men” pride colors. It’s a gradient that goes a dark purple to a light minty green, and as Nick eyes it curiously, Charlie wonders if he recognizes it. He wonders what it means if he does.

He's about to explain its meaning to Nick, but then Nick reaches out a hand. He reaches out his hand like he’s going to touch it. And Charlie’s breath hitches at the anticipation of Nick touching him. Because he’s thought about it too often. About what Nick’s touch would feel like on his bare skin. And even though this wouldn’t be Nick touching his bare skin, it would be close enough to it that would leave Charlie no choice but to be determined to find out what their skins feel like on one another.

But just as Nick reaches, he falters. At the last second, right before his fingertips reach forward and touch, he pauses. Like there’s an invisible force that’s suddenly built a barrier between them, forbidding them from actually coming in contact with one another.

He points with his index finger, as if that was his original plan, “I like this.”

Charlie can’t take his eyes off Nick. Not that he usually finds the task easy, but now it’s like his eyes are permanently glued on him. Studying his every move, waiting for that shield he so obviously carries around him to crack and let Charlie in.

But tonight’s not the night that’s going to happen, if it ever does.

So, Charlie manages to say in the most even voice he can muster, “thanks. It’s, um,” he gathers his thoughts, “we’re going to a new gay bar in town. It’s called ‘Truth’ and it’s supposed to be like, a more wholesome bar, I guess? They require all their attendees to wear their pins that symbolize their sexuality.”

Nick’s gaze finally flicks upwards to meet Charlie’s eyes again, and he drops his hand. Charlie immediately notices the drop in temperature from the loss of the almost contact.

“That’s a bit… won’t people feel a bit outted?”
         Charlie can’t help the small laugh that escapes his lips, “it’s a gay bar. If you’re there, you’re likely already out to some capacity or okay with being outed to the other people there. I think they do this so there’s no confusion as to who people may or may not be attracted to?”

Nick gives him a small, playful smirk, “if it’s a gay bar, shouldn’t it be implied that most people of the same sex that go are already attracted to one another anyway?”

Charlie can see his point. He laughs it off, not truly knowing the intention behind the concept but liking the idea anyway.

He puts his free hand up in surrender, “I won’t pretend to entirely understand the concept, but I like it!”

Nick gives him a small laugh, “I guess it is cool to wear your sexuality that proudly on your chest. And be in a room full of people who are doing that very same thing.”

Charlie’s not sure if he imagines it, but there’s almost a solemness underneath the surface of Nick’s words. It’s not too outright or forthcoming, but the hints of it exist. They’re there. And it only intrigues Charlie further.

Charlie wants to say something, anything, to get a piece of Nick to reveal itself. A piece that Charlie knows is hidden behind self-doubt and other people’s expectations. But before he can think of the right thing to say that is neither too pushy nor too invasive, Nick is speaking again. Like he’s caught the same thing Charlie has, and he wants to reel back in as soon as possible. Pretend he didn’t let it slip through his armor.

He scratches his brow with his pointed finger in a way that makes Charlie feel that he may be a bit uncomfortable, “Well, I hope that you enjoy it. It sounds like it’ll be a great time,” and before Charlie can even get a word in, maybe an invitation extended to him, Nick barrels on, “I’m staying in tonight. This week has kissed my ass. So, I’m going to grab myself some fish and chips and head back to the flat.”

It's an escape route.

Charlie can recognize one when it’s laid out right in front of him. Because Charlie has created so many of those on his own, for himself, in the past. Back when he was hiding from so much pain, running away from it only to find that there was truly no way out without confronting it head on. That avoidance had eventually led him to become stuck in a maze of suffering that had been from his own doing. From his own choice to never tackle any of it head on. Until the walls of the maze collapsed in on itself, and in the rumble Charlie laid. Alone, afraid, and unable to escape any longer.

He wants to give Nick a better way. He wants to go into Nick’s maze before it tumbles in on itself and help him get out in a way that no one was able to help Charlie. But then he remembers that it isn’t his responsibility, and in this one conversation, Nick has done more pushing than he has pulling. He’s pushing Charlie far back, not letting him past the walls he’s built. And Charlie cannot, and should not have to, bulldoze his way in.

“Sounds boring,” Charlie teases, opting for light heartedness because it’s what he feels Nick wants. It’s what he feels is all he could handle. And it’s all he feels he’s required to give him.

Nick gives him a small shrug of his shoulders, “I’m afraid that is what I am. I’m not  very interesting.”

“I doubt that” Charlie blurts out, before he can think better of it.

Charlie expects Nick to argue, to keep the banter going back and forth to make the situation feel less heavy than the weight Charlie has seemed to just drop onto them. But Nick doesn’t. He doesn’t say a word. He simply stares at Charlie, and there are so many thoughts looming behind his honey-colored eyes. Every single one that Charlie wishes he was privy to. That Charlie wishes he could hold in the palm of his hand.

But Nick blinks, and the thoughts are gone. Stored away somewhere Charlie can’t reach. The metaphorical push returns, and Charlie can feel the strength behind it even before Nick speaks again.

“Don’t,” he says, and he says it in a tone that is meant to make Charlie believe it’s all just fun, “I’m truly your stereotypical rugby lad. Gym, food, sleep.”

Charlie doesn’t say anything in return. Because he doesn’t believe it. And Nick knows he doesn’t. He has to, the same way that Charlie knows none of what Nick’s just said is true to anything Nick really is. It’s who he presents himself as to the world, but Charlie can see through it. How he can see through it, is beyond his comprehension. But he can. He knows as well as he knows his own name, that he can.

“Repeat,” Charlie says. He smiles, even if it’s the fakest smile he’s ever given Nick Nelson.

Because it’s not his job to expose Nick to himself. It’s not his job to convince Nick to stop pushing. To just pull Charlie in the way that would make them both happy. Charlie’s job is to repair and rebuild himself. That’s all. So, he goes along with Nick. For once in his life, he’s not fighting against the tide. He’s flowing with it.

“Right,” Nick says, the smile on his face not reaching his eyes, “have a good night then, Charlie. Be safe.”

“You too,” Charlie echoes.

Nick ducks his head, and then he’s walking around Charlie. Walking away from him.

It takes every bit of self-control for Charlie to not turn around and reach out for Nick. To let Nick stick to his choices – all the ones that don’t involve Charlie. It takes everything in him because there’s a tugging on his chest, strong and merciless, that aches for Nick. That screams at Charlie’s insides to go after him. His heart is thrashing in his chest. Throwing a tantrum. Yelling, begging. But Charlie’s mind stands firm. Charlie’s mind creates the barricade it needs to. It creates the voice of reason it has to. It protects Charlie. For maybe the first time in his entire existence, Charlie’s mind doesn’t betray him.

His mind says, “this time, no.”

And his heart is forced to listen, even if it whales, “but why?”

Charlie doesn’t look back. Instead, he walks forward, his eyes trained on the pathway ahead of him. The pathway absent of Nick Nelson.

Nick Nelson is an unresolved mystery, but Charlie is not going to be the one to unravel it. He can’t.

Chapter Text

Nick’s really not feeling like himself these days. In honesty, Nick hasn’t felt like himself in a very long time. When he first realized he was bisexual, he felt like a new part of himself had been unlocked. And yet, there was nothing he could do about it. But then Thomas came along. And Nick couldn’t hold back from his attraction to Thomas and that let head to finally, finally, start getting to know that part of himself. Getting to thoroughly explore it with someone else, had made Nick begin to understand himself in ways that he never had before. Before Thomas, Nick was just everything everyone around him expected him to be. Good at rugby. Fun to be around. A lad. A prodigy. Maybe there were so many parts of himself he was repressing before then, but it was easy to ignore when the part they all wanted him to play was the only part he’d ever known. He knew it like the back of his hand. But with Thomas, and their relationship, so many new parts of him became visible for the first time in Nick’s life. Parts he couldn’t just hide away anymore. It felt freeing in so many ways, like the roots of something that had always been embedded in Nick finally being able to sprout into something else. Navigating the branches and the petals that became to form was a tad bit difficult. But having Thomas’ hand to hold as he let the flowers he’d never let see the light of day before bloom made it all much easier to endure.

And then it all went to shit. And the flowers died. They’ve been dead for too many months. Nick’s done everything to no longer water them and keep it that way. He’s remained focus on practice. On making sure he’s in his best physical shape to perform when he’s on that field the way so many people expect him to. He’s kept up with his studies to his best of his abilities. He’s hung back with his friends when it’s necessary and been far more outgoing than he’s felt like being just for the sake of keeping up appearances. He’s uncomplicated his love life, staying far away from anything that could bring those flowers back to life and complicate it all over again.

Nick has really, really tried to just feel like him again. Maybe not him, but the version of him he was for so long that, despite its many flaws, was comfortable and safe. And it still hasn’t been enough. And it hasn’t been enough because all those flowers may no longer be alive, but the branches remain. The roots refuse to go back underground. The parts of himself that he exposed can’t simply go away just because Nick tries to bury himself in old habits and pretend that’s the remedy. It’s become more and more apparent each day, as Nick’s frustrations with himself continue to grow. The disassociation between who he’s presenting himself as, and who he is, grows more and more.

And Nick can’t even kid himself. He can’t even deny that he knows that there’s one major thorn in all his branches that is making it all so much harder.

Charlie fucking spring.

Nick thought he could truly end it after the day in the library by doing something as simple as turning down Charlie’s offer of exchanging numbers. Looking back on it, it’s laughable that he even thought that would do a damn thing. Because it didn’t. It hasn’t. And Nick knows that it won’t.

Charlie spring has been taking over his every waking thought. And it doesn’t stop there – he’s been plaguing his dreams too. He’s everywhere, even if he’s not actually anywhere. Because really Nick has only bumped into him one other time since that day at the library. It was last Friday night, and it was in the most random of places too. Just as he was leaving his late-night workout session, which had been so impromptu simply because Nick could not get his mind to shut off. Reeling with thoughts of the season ahead, of his victories, of his mistakes. Of Charlie Spring. And then there he was. Like an omen he can’t escape. And Nick should’ve just walked away but it’s like his body, his mind, and his soul cannot resist. He walked towards him, and they chatted. Not enough, because Nick’s not sure he could ever get his fill of Charlie, but it’d been something. Something to keep him afloat.

 Nick had almost even reached out and touched him at some point, before catching himself. Thank God he had, because if he’d almost forgot to speak simply when Charlie said his name, the sound sweeter than any piece of candy he’d ever tasted, then touching him would have surely ended him.

The conversation had ended a bit abruptly, which was entirely Nick’s doing. He’d side stepped him again, hopeful that if he exited the conversation quickly, Charlie wouldn’t have been able to see past the fascade he keeps trying so hard to keep up. Nick doesn’t know if he succeeded. But what he does know is that it took every ounce of strength he had left to walk away from Charlie Spring. But Nick doesn’t know how much strength he has left. How much he can keep fighting himself. How many more times he can walk away.

Because fucking Charlie Spring.

With his deep blue eyes and his dimpled smile and his mop of curls on his head that Nick keeps imaging being able to run his fingers through. With his gentle voice around Nick’s name that creates a sound Nick doesn’t think he’d ever get tired of. With his stupid ripped skinny jeans and his easy-going attitude and his – everything.

Every single one of their interactions overwhelms Nick while still not feeling like enough.

“Nick,” Otis says besides him, “did you hear what Cristian’s just said?”

They’re in the changing room, having just finished another successful practice. They have their first game of the season in a couple of weeks, and the team has never been playing a better, more cohesive game on the field. It’s the one thing in Nick’s life that seems to be on the right trajectory, and yet, Nick couldn’t really care less about it.

He pulls his shirt over his head and looks at Otis, then Cristian sitting on the bench. Still shirtless with a dopey look on his face.

Nick shakes his head, “sorry, mate. I was… a bit lost in thought there.”

“That’s alright. I wish I could’ve tuned him out too. Our mans has just said the most pathetic thing to date,” Otis says, but there’s not bite in his words. He’s taking the piss, as they usually do.

Even banter with his friends doesn’t bring Nick the same joy it once did.

“Oi!” Sai says, one leg up on the bench next to Cristian, “don’t be a prick, mate. Our friend is in love.”

That catches Nick’s attention. Out of the four of them, Cristian is the biggest lover boy with the heaviest commitment issues. They all used to think it was Nick, until they realized Nick wasn’t someone to actually fall in love. He liked a good time and wasn’t an asshole to the people he hooked up with. But he never made empty promises or drew out relationships he couldn’t stick to. He was honest and up front and never really willing to do more or promise more than a good time in bed. Until Thomas, of course.

It wasn’t that Cristian purposefully made promises he couldn’t keep. When he made them, he fully believed he could keep them. And he could, but always for a short while. Cristian fell in love as quickly as he fell out of it. Back in their freshmen year, Nick had introduced his friends to Imogen. By the second time they hung out, Cristian swore he was going to marry her. They dated for three months before Cristian met Lauren, and then she was the new girl of his dreams. And so on and so forth. He doesn’t do it with bad intentions, even if it’s had some dire consequences in the past. It’s as if he truly can’t help himself.

Nick wonders what poor girl is now the object of all his desires.

“You’re in love?” Nick asks Cristian, a playful and slightly skeptical smile on his face as he does.

Cristian nods, the grin on his face never wavering, “I am in proper love, mate. She could be the one.”

Nick feels genuine laughter erupt and escape him. Laughter that he’s only experienced one other time in the last six months. That one another time being with Charlie Spring. But Cristian’s willingness to delude himself every time when it comes to relationships can’t be found unfunny. Because if Nick had a dime for every time he’s heard the same phrase from Cristian, well then maybe he’d have enough to skip town, create a new alias for himself, and truly stop feeling like an outsider in his own skin.

Otis laughs along with Nick and from Cristian’s side, Sai says, “you two are a bunch of assholes. We need to supportive.”

Nick tries to stifle his laugh by bringing the back of his hand to cover his mouth, “right, of course,” he manages to get it under control before he asks, “who is she, then?”

Cristian’s eyes soften and his smile glows as he replies, “her name is Daisy. She’s a siren.”

“A what?” Otis asks confused.

“A siren, O-tits,” Cristian says frustrated, calling Otis by his very special, mocking nickname.

“Do you know what that is?” Nick asks Cristian.

“’Course I do! It’s a woman with a beautiful voice,” Cristian answers easily.

Nick and Otis exchange a look. There are some battles not worth fighting.

Nick turns back to Cristian, “so, she’s a singer.”

Cristian nods all proud like he is the one who gave her the gift of having a good voice.

“The very best.”

“Okay,” Nick smiles, “and how did you two meet?”

“She serenaded me,” Cristian answers, the softness in his eyes multiplying in what Nick assumes is his mind replaying the memory.

“Alright, mate when are you going to bring it back down to Earth?” Otis says, sounding annoyed by Cristian’s answers.

He likely is. The boys have always been good at getting on each other’s nerves. Sometimes Nick wonders how they’re dynamic works so well when they’re all so different. Maybe it’s because they’re all so different that it does.

“You guys are killing my hopeless romantic heart,” Cristian pouts, “Sai, tell ‘em! Defend me.”

Said looks down at Cristian like he’s contemplating whether he should do as he’s asked or jump ship and join Otis with the taunting of Cristian’s actions. He seems to decide to be a good friend to Cristian, and leave Otis on his own this time, as he sighs and looks seriously back at Nick and Otis.

“We were walking by the courtyard and some girl was playing guitar and signing. She does have a great voice, so naturally, it caught our attention. Then Cristian caught sight of her, and well – she’s pretty. So of course our friend went up to her.”

“And I told her she had the most beautiful voice I’d ever heard. And then when she looked up at me, I told her she had the prettiest face I’ve ever seen,” Cristian adds.

“All true,” Sai confirms.

“And then she fucking giggled and my god, I wasn’t sure I hadn’t died and gone up to heaven,” Cristian says, and Sai rolls his eyes, “and then I ask her when I could hear her again some time because how am I expected to walk away from the love of my life?”

“Bloody hell,” Otis mutters.

“So, she invited me to watch her, and her band perform at music night tomorrow. We’re going.”

“We?” Otis asks, implying the assumption is a bold one on Cristian’s part.

“You have to support me! You guys know I can get a bit in my head when talking to girls. Sometimes I get a bit carried away,” Cristian’s been known to come on a bit too strong from time to time, “I cannot fumble this one. I need my wingmen there.”

“I already agreed to go,” Sai says.

Otis looks at him with a deadpan expression.

“The way you enable this behavior is sickening, mate.”

Sai puts both his hands on out, “what do you mean? I’m just trying to be a good friend!”

Otis looks at Nick, and instantly he knows that he’s going to ask Nick to lead the way. They’ve always done that. Since the four of them became well acquainted since the start of freshmen year, it was like they all silently agreed to appoint Nick not only the captain of their rugby team, but of their friendship group to. They tend to look at him for guidance on things. Stupid, inconsequential things. Like what they should do with their free weekends, what bars they should hit up, what girls they should hit on. Nick’s not sure how it ended up that way, since he’s never seen himself as much of a leader. He’s well aware that his dad is a lot of the reason he became rugby captain, and his skill is the other half. His personality, however, probably wasn’t even a contender.

“What do you think, Nick? Should we indulge these idiots?” Otis asks him.

In the past, even though Nick can’t understand it, he’s always fallen into his role as the captain of all things them with ease. Now, he feels highly underqualified. Highly inefficient.

He stumbles a bit on his words, “I—I mean.”

He feels three pairs of eyes on him waiting for a response. Waiting for him to give them something. Cristian, Sai, and Otis watch him expectantly.

Nick looks back at all of them, contemplating what he should say. What he wants to say is that he has no desire to go out to music night and have to put on a brave face, when he feels like he’s struggling to keep himself together with each passing day. He wants to stay on his mundane routine. The same one he gave to Charlie, which wasn’t much of an exaggeration. The routine helps him from derailing the way he’s just one wrong move away from doing.

But then there goes Charlie sticking to every single surface of Nick he can find. With just one single, passing thought, all things Charlie Spring begin to take over him.

Maybe he can use a distraction.

Nick looks around again, trying to sound confident when he says, “I think it’s worth a shot. It sounds like a good time even if Cristian absolutely blows it. Music, drinks, and watching Cristian make a fool of himself? Count me in.”

Cristian tells him to fuck off, Sai tells Otis to take after Nick and be a good friend, and Otis playfully rolls his eyes and claims to be disappointed in Nick for budging but ultimately agrees.

Nick tries to let the light heartedness of his friend group overshadow the darkness that continues to spread throughout his soul like an infectious disease. But it’s not enough. And Nick’s beginning to worry nothing ever will be. That there is no cure. That his insides are necrotizing, and he can’t stop it. He can only watch as he becomes a shell of a person.

He probably needs music night to go well more than Cristian does.

Nick is lounging around his kitchen with Sai and Otis. They’re three beers deep each, talking mostly rugby but throwing in the inconsequential nonsense every so often. They were really only supposed to have a drink or two while they waited for Cristian to decide his outfit but are now down to just three beers left. And it’s all because Cristian is essentially having an existential crisis. He’s been panicking about his outfit, changing every time he puts one together as he isn’t satisfied with any. He’s taking this whole thing a little too seriously, in Nick’s opinion. He’s going to meet a girl he fancies (and will likely no longer fancy in a month knowing Cristian) not the damn Queen of England.

His antics are getting on Nick’s nerves.

“Cristian!” he yells from his spot in the kitchen, hoping Cristian can hear him through the walls separating them, “hurry up, mate! You’ve been getting ready for over an hour.”

Not even a minute later, Cristian is appearing in their kitchen looking absolutely distressed. His eyes are wild, his hair is sticking up in places it shouldn’t be from pulling shirts over his head too many times, and his jeans are undone, indicating he’s likely just changed into yet another pair.

The thing about his outfit choices so far is that they’re not all that far apart from one another anyway. So far, all Nick’s see him change into and out of are different colored t-shirts and different wash colored denim jeans. So, how is it so hard for him to just decide?

“I just can’t find the right outfit. Nothing looks good! Or right!” Cristian cries, looking thoroughly panicked like he’s a in a life or death situation, unsure of the route that’ll lead him to life and far from death.

They all just stare at him.

Sai speaks first, “Cristian, mate, no offense but you’ve literally just kept changing into the same thing. Just different colors.”

“Seriously, man,” Otis throws his hands up, “what time does she go on? Cause it’s eight-thirty and the whole thing started half an hour ago. If you keep this up for another hour it won’t matter what you’re wearing, you’re going to miss her.”

Nick watches as reality looms over Cristian, his face transforming from distressed to thoroughly panicked at Otis’ words. He’s right, and Cristian’s panic kicks into full over-drive with the thought of missing, or having already missed, his girl.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck,” Cristian begins swearing, looking around frantically but not knowing where to move.

“Cristian, just fix your hair and let’s get the fuck out of here!” Nick yells at him. He’s trying to be helpful, but he can’t help the bit of irritation that seeps through his words.

He’s not trying to be insensitive to his friend – even if his behavior is irritating him. Nick just feels on edge all the time. One wrong move, and his jumping from barely okay to absolutely grouchy in seconds. The beers have helped loosen him up. He hopes the ambiance of music night does the rest of the work.

“Fuck!” Cristian screams, to no one in particular.

He stands there for a beat longer, his eyes darting left and right, his hands sprawled out and his legs opened wide like he’s gearing up for a tackle on the field. Nick is about to yell at him some more, bring him out of it, when Cristian seems to snap himself out of it. He runs off quickly, quicker than Nick has ever seen him run on the field and disappears to his room once more.

Nick sighs, “he has no idea what time she was going on, huh?”

“Probably not,” Sai tells him.

“Bloody hell,” Otis mutters.

They wait another five minutes, and Nick is about to tell them they should just have the last three beers because they’re likely still not leaving anytime soon, when Cristian runs out of his room.

“We need to go,” he says in a huff, “like now.”

“Ohhhh,” Nick says in a funny tone, “now we’re in a rush?”

“Are you going to help me score the girl of my dreams or keep being a grouchy prick?” Cristian bites back.

There’s not too any venom behind his words. He says it in a playful kind of way. The same kind of way they speak to one another when they’re bantering. But Nick feels the sting of it anyway. Maybe because he knows he has been a grouchy prick lately. Not intentionally, but it seems that his intentions never seem to count as much as he tries to get them to.

When Nick doesn’t respond right away with his own cheeky comeback, the mood in the room shifts. He feels it instantly. The lightheartedness they’re all going for turns into something slightly more dreadful.

“The girl of your dreams for like the next three months,” Otis says, managing to slice through some of the weird tension that’s come over them.

“Oh, fuck off, Otis,” Cristian says, “go find yourself a crush that actually reciprocates your interest and then we can talk about love.”

Otis throws Cristian the finger, Cristian throws him one right back. And then they’re laughing at one another, like they always do.

“Alright, let’s go you lame excuses for friends,” Cristian says, and this time, Nick doesn’t give him any sort of push back.

They all pile out of the house together and Cristian is fast on his feet the moment they lock the flat up. He’s walking faster than Nick can keep up with. Though his speed has improved throughout the years – a weakness on the field his father had no tolerance for – it’s still not one of Nick’s greatest strengths. His showstopper is, well, his actual strength.

Nick’s trying to catch his breath behind his group of friends that are lankier, relatively shorter, and all around lighter than Nick. Otis and Sai might as well be track stars on the field instead of rugby players. Cristian’s not impressively quick, but right now, with how fast he’s just walking, Nick is starting to wonder whether he’s just been holding back in the last three years.

Nick is the last to walk through the door when they reach the campus bar, where the music event is taking place. ‘Music night’ is an event the university has been throwing regularly since Nick started almost three years ago. It happens about once every two to three months, depending on the other events the campus activity coordinators have come up with up. He’s been to some in the past and the turnout ranges, but it’s usually sparsely full. Definitely a decent amount of people in the crowd, but enough spaces and gaps in between the groups that form that doesn’t call for the open floor to have bodies squished together. Nick instantly knows that something about this ‘music night’ is different, because as soon as they walk in, Nick is crashing against Sai’s back. He’s about to tell him to move on, but then he looks over Sai’s head and the room in front of them. There are a lot of people around, leaving barely an ounce of space between the bodies gathered.

 Nick has always thought that the people who perform on ‘music night’ are undeniably talented, but most of the time they’re performing songs that are undeniably sad – and sad music doesn’t necessarily align with Nick’s music taste. He’s much more of an old school R&B, occasionally enjoying American rap like Drake and J.Cole, and soft jazz when he’s not in the mood to listen to someone’s voice. He guesses he’s an odd one out, or people’s interest in listening to sad music has doubled over the past year – he could probably thank Taylor Swift’s rising popularity for that – because the place is far more packed than Nick’s ever seen it.

“Holy shit!” Sai screams in front of him, over the chatter that is taking up a good amount of volume, “this place is slammed!”

Nick nods, although no one’s looking at him, “it really is.”

“Please welcome to the stage – sapphic cowgirls!” the voice over the PA announces.

Nick claps along with the crowd, but near the front of it, there’s an undeniably louder group rooting for the performers about to take the stage. Probably friends of the band.

Nick watches a girl dressed in an ivory long, shoulder strap summer dress and brown cowboy boots takes the stage. She has fair skin and a thick head of long wavy hair that she has aggressively parted to the side. She has long, dangly earrings with daisy flowers at the very ends of them. She’s pretty, in a very folky indie kind of way. Instantly, something in Nick’s head clicks and he realizes the girl taking the stage, front and center in front of the mic, is Cristian’s Daisy.

He realizes it at the same time he hears Cristian yell from the front of their group, still standing very close to the entrance and to the far back of the overall crowd and stage, “Fuck! That’s her! What’re the chances we get here right when their set begins? It’s fate!”

Nick rolls his eyes, though he’s smiling at his friend’s delirious mind.

Nick is about to say something when he sees the rest of what he assumes is the band, come onto the stage as well. Nick catches sight of him at the same time the unknown voice comes over the PA again, “apologies. Please welcome sapphic cowgirls featuring Charlie Spring to the stage.”

Suddenly, Nick understands the reasoning behind Cristian’s luck. The universe didn’t do Cristian any favors, it did what it always does – it brought Charlie and Nick together in the most unlikely of places. Nick’s plan of distracting himself tonight from his thoughts about Charlie be damned.

It’s insane, what catching sight of Charlie does to Nick. One look at him, and everything around him fades to nothing. All he can see, the only spotlight in his vision, in his mind, in his damn heart, is one Charlie Spring.

He looks adorable as he shyly avoids eye contact with the crowd and makes his way behind the drum set.

The drum set? Charlie can play the drums?

Nick’s fighting a losing battle.

Nick takes in every movement, every facial expression, and every article of clothing he’s wearing as he watches Charlie situate himself. He’s wearing an all-white shirt with a big rainbow heart at the center of it overtaking his entire chest. The bottoms of the shirt are frayed, and he has on what Nick is going to safely assume – giving how many times he’s seen him wear the damn thing – are Charlie’s favorite pair of skinny, black ripped jeans. His shoes are the all classic white converse he wore the first time Nick ever saw him. He looks angelic, his deep blue eyes shining and his black head of curls glistening under the stream of lights that illuminate their spots on stage. Suddenly, Nick is determined to get to the front of that crowd just to get a better look at him.

“Budge up,” he tells Sai.

Sai looks over his shoulder and gives Nick a confused look but moves aside as much as he can to make room for Nick to pass through. Otis gives him a weird look also as Nick moves past him as well in the limited space they have and makes his way to the front where Cristian is.

Cristian gives him worried eyes and is about to say something when Nick speaks before he has a chance, “just follow closely behind me. I’m getting you to the love of your life, Cristian.”

Cristian beams, and Nick only feels slightly guilty for bluffing. So, it’s not entirely (or really at all) for Cristian’s benefit. Maybe Nick is acting entirely out of self-interest. But it doesn’t really matter, does it? What Cristian doesn’t know, can’t hurt him. And he’ll still surely reap the benefits of it. Get one step closer to the love of his life (for the next 3 or so months, that is).

Nick uses the burliness of his physique to make space that doesn’t necessarily exist as he waves through the crowd. He definitely shoves and pushes against a few people, but he does it with only enough force to get them to move and not send anyone tumbling down. Some people grumble as he moves around them, but Nick fires off soft ‘excuse me’s’ and ‘sorry’s’ as he does. Some people who turn to give him a sour face for his actions – Nick’s not a rude guy, and he knows what he’s doing is poor concert etiquette, but he has one goal, and he can’t be damned not to reach it – but instantly resign when they recognize him, giving way more easily. Nick doesn’t like to use his status or his popularity for special treatment, but every now and then, he’ll indulge a bit.

After what feels like a much longer travel, they finally make it to the front. They’re not dead in the center, a bit further left of the stage, but they’re only a couple of rows of people behind being in the very front. Daisy is practically within arm’s reach for Cristian, and Charlie is Nick’s direct line of sight. It’s truly a win-win.

“Nick, you fucking king, you!” Cristian smiles at him, grasping onto his shoulders and pulling him in for a side hug for a favor he thinks was entirely done for him.

Nick did it for himself, but he won’t ever tell anyone that.

Nick smiles back at his friend's enthusiasm, “Don’t ever say I don’t do anything for you.”

“I could never!” Cristian says, still hugging Nick, “you’ll be the best man at the wedding.”

“Oh, really?” Sai says besides them, eyebrows up in offence, “how quickly you’ve forgotten the first person to support this relationship.”

“You’ll be the ring guy,” Cristian throws him a bone.

Sai huffs anyway.

Then Cristian is untangling himself from Nick and the look on his face entirely transforms. His eyes go soft, and his smile becomes impossibly larger and goofier. He waves his hand up through the crowd and waves like he’s trying to catch someone’s attention, but when Nick follows his line of sight, he realizes he already has. Daisy is smiling right at Cristian, giving him a small wave with her hand tucked to her side. She’s not being overly obvious, although Cristian is having no problem letting everyone in the crowd know he knows the lead singer.

Nick can’t help but smile at the entire exchange, even if it’s all a bit over the top.

He looks past Daisy to where Charlie is now sat on the drums. He’s holding drum sticks in his hands now, looking down at the drum set in what seems to be a concentrated manner. Nick wants to break him out of his trance through telepathic communication he's not sure exists, and have him look up.

Just look up, Nick says in his head, hoping the message somehow reaches Charlie.

Even though Charlie seems to be the source of most of his problems lately, he also feels like the only solution.

Charlie raises his head, and Nick thinks it’s about to happen. They’re about to lock eyes through a crowd of people again, when Daisy steps a bit to the side and obscures Nick’s view of Charlie and Charlie’s view of Nick.

“Hi everyone,” Daisy says into her mic, a favorable smile on her face as she looks out to everyone.

The crowd woos and greets her back and Cristian almost falls to his knees right there and then. Nick will admit, she does have a soothing voice.

“Thank you for joining us tonight. I want to give a bit of an introduction of our group – Sapphic Cowgirls – if you’ll allow me.”

The crowd cheers again, Cristian competing with the group to their left for who is the loudest, and that encourages Daisy to continue.

“On the guitar, we have the lovely Jess,” Daisy says, gesturing to the girl standing to Daisy’s right.

Nick’s not entirely sure, but he’s 90% convinced that’s his other neighbor – Charlie’s other flat mate. Jess has a full head of very large and loosely coiled curls with bangs that halo her face and cover her forehead very distinguishably, which is the primary reason Nick recognizes her.

 Jess strums off a pretty neat cord to drive her introduction home and then something else clicks in Nick’s head. He’s taller than most people, so Nick only has to slightly crane his head to look over at the group of people who were being the loudest the moment the band was announced to come on stage. He’s not at all surprised to be able to make out Amy standing there, even she’s a bit harder to get a good look at considering how short she is. He scans the rest of the people with her, and sees Tara Jones, who he believes is Tara’s partner, a blond girl with her arms wrapped around Tara’s shoulder, and another boy and girl Nick doesn’t know by name.

There’s only about two small groups between Amy’s and Nick’s, and Nick prefers to keep it that way. He doesn’t know what it is, but there’s something about Amy that unsettles him. When he’d had to flag her down and then asked her about Charlie’s favorite dinner food, the way she’d eyed him made him feel like she could see through the pounding of his heart. Not that it was pounding from having sprinted to catch up to her when she was, likely ignoring him when he was calling for her, but for Charlie. For his want to satisfy Charlie the best he could while still maintaining a comfortable distance.

A comfortable distance the universe always seems to turn to shit.

“On bass, we have our very talented Chelsea,” Daisy speaks again, causing Nick to turn his neck and look to the stage. He barely cares to look over at Chelsea, though Sai mutters a “Jesus Christ” under his breath that Nick is sure has something to do with the sheer shirt she’s sporting that shows off her pierced nipples to anyone who’s willing to look. Nick doesn’t really fall under that category of people. Nick can’t seem to care because he’s too focused on whose introduction comes next. Not that Nick needs one for him. But he’s just hoping that he’ll have a clear view of him, and maybe Charlie will spot him in the front of the crowd and their eyes will lock and all of Nick’s struggles in the past weeks might fade away.

Daisy moves out of the way, as she gestures behind her. Charlie is no longer obscured by Daisy and becomes visible to everyone, but more importantly, to Nick.

“And filling in for us on drums tonight, is the adorable Charlie Spring,” Daisy introduces him.

Charlie gives the crowd a small and nervous grin, and brings one of his hands with a drum stick up to give a wave.

Nick claps loudly for him, though he doesn’t holler no matter how much of Charlie’s attention he wants to grab because he doesn’t want to grab anyone else’s. Amy’s group does the exact opposite, shouting at the top of their lungs, whistling, and even starting a small and quick chant of Charlie’s name that catches everyone’s attention.

Nick glances over quickly, a bit envious of their ability to so openly display their affection for Charlie without having to hold back. And even more envious when they catch Charlie’s attention easily, his eyes glossing over Nick in the crowd to look over at his supportive friends.

He’s happy Charlie has such a great people around him. He’s just upset he’s not one of them. Though it’s much of his own doing, it’s not his own choice.

Daisy continues, coming back to the center and obscuring his view of Charlie only slightly. He knows she’s the lead singer, and therefore should be standing where she is, but it still annoys him that she keeps blocking his view of Charlie.

“And I’m Daisy.”

 Nick’s eardrums almost bleed with how loudly Cristian yells, and he has to use his hands to cover his ears just so he doesn’t go deaf.

He sees some people turn to them, and Nick almost wants to apologize but gets a little frozen when he catches Amy looking at them. They meet eyes, behind the groups of people that were standing between their own respective groups that have moved enough to make it possible. There’s a glint in her eyes that is all too knowing, and a smirk on her lips that unsettles him. He looks away quickly and turns his attention back to Daisy.

 “Tonight, we’re going to play you a song of lovers who love furiously even though life kicks their asses, and they don’t quite get the ending they hoped for. We hope it reminds you to love anyway,” Daisy says, as she places the microphone back on the mic stand, “this is ‘Fast Car.’

The band takes a moment to settle, letting the applauses and roars from the crowd quiet down, before starting. And in that moment, Daisy moves and inch to the right, and Charlie and Nick meet eyes. It’s a brief exchange, so brief that if Nick would’ve been blinking when it happened, he would’ve missed it. But he can tell it existed by the way something in him feels alive, the very same thing that always does whenever they look at each other. Whenever they’re around each other. Charlie’s smile grows in that brief moment too, and Nick is only aware of it because when Daisy turns and Charlie is forced to place his attention on her, Nick can see the smile return to its normal shape. Not quite causing crinkles to form in the creases by his eyes the way it does whenever they’re exchanging a glance.

Something in Nick’s chest swells that he’s about to elicit that kind of smile from Charlie.

Daisy nods at her band mates and puts three fingers up. Nick watches as she puts them down, one by one, signaling a count down.

“You’re about to be blown the fuck away, lads. You’re welcome,” Cristian says proudly. Thinking Daisy is going to be the reason they thoroughly enjoy this performance. Nick thinks that it doesn’t matter how great Daisy is about to be. The credit to how much he’s about to enjoy this is due to entirely someone else for him.

Nick is trying his best not to so obviously and openly stare, but he can’t help but be fixated on Charlie as Charlie begins to move his drumsticks over his drums, eliciting a tambourine kind of sound and rhythm as the song starts. Jess joins in shortly after on her guitar, but Nick’s focus remains on Charlie. Entranced by Charlie’s subtle but smooth movements.

After a couple of beats of just that, Daisy starts singing. Nick has no idea what the song they’re performing is, because he’s never heard it before. But he can see Cristian’s own enchantment with Daisy’s voice as he happily gazes up at her and sways the song she’s singing that he’s sure Cristian is not familiar with either. Nick can hardly blame him. Her voice is good. Folky and country-like, despite being English, and soft and sultry in just the right places. Nick’s not even sure exactly what words she’s singing. She could be reciting atrocities, but in her melodic voice, it would likely sound like biblical verses. She’s undoubtedly shining through, but still to Nick, the star of the show is Charlie. His face is etched in concentration, with his eyebrows slightly furrowed. Nick can tell he’s sucking on the inside flesh of his cheeks, and his lips are pursed as he plays along.

Charlie’s movements are small and repetitive, but Nick watches in awe like he’s performing the most intricate drum notes to exist. And then, something shifts. Daisy’s voice goes up an octave or two, and Charlie’s movements change. They’re more forceful, and the drums he’s playing become just as prominent as Daisy’s vocals. As Charlie play his new notes that bring a different life to the song, he begins mouthing the words that Daisy is singing.

Nick can’t not pay attention to anything Charlie’s mouth does, so for the first time since they started playing the song, Nick is paying attention to the lyrics too.

‘So, I remember we were driving,

Driving in your car,

Speeds so fast felt like I was drunk,

City lights lay out before us,

And your arm felt nice wrapped around my shoulder

And I-I, had a feeling that I belonged.

         I-I had a feeling I could be someone,

         Be someone,

         Be someone’

         Charlie’s drum playing really picks up at the tail end of the chorus, and Nick can’t help but join in with the loud cheering that he now knows is coming from Amy’s group. He’s killing it, and Nick feels proud of him. For him. Probably far prouder than he should feel, giving his position in Charlie’s life and how it’s not very significant. But he can’t help it. There’s something about the words he’s just mouthed too. Something about them that feels personal.

         The song draws back again for the second chorus, though Daisy’s strong vocals keeps the crowd engaged. Some people can even be heard singing along. Nick pays more attention this time, taking in the lyrics that are actually – nice. A bit too fitting.

         The universe is having too much fun at Nick’s expense.

         But he waits anxiously for Charlie’s part again during the chorus. It comes again, and Nick feels the pride in his heart double at the mere sound of it. And Charlie’s little smile as he beats down on his drum, bringing a different kind of life to the song. The song calms once more, and Nick can feel it about to spring (no pun intended) out at him again at the very end. He knows it, and yet he’s not prepared for when it happens. In what Nick assumes is the final chorus of the song, Charlie beats on his drums with the right amount of power and tenacity. It’s heard loudly everywhere, but more prominently Nick thinks, in his very own bloodstream. It feels like the beating of his heart changes to match the beating of Charlie’s drum. In perfect synch.

         Once the last chorus ends, Charlie slowly transitions his loud drumming to the slow rhythm of the song. He does it with such expertise that Nick thinks only skilled musicians are capable of. Nick’s heart yearns to know everything about Charlie. How and why he’s so good at playing drums. What else, beside writing too, is he good at?

         Daisy is down with her knees on the floor, making a whole show of it as the song comes to an end. Something that catches Nick’s attention only because he can feel Cristian salivating at the sight of her next to him.

         He’s paying enough attention to Daisy again that he can make out her final lyrics.

         ‘You got a make a decision,

         Leave tonight or live and die this way.’

         At registering the words, Nick’s gaze flicks back to Charlie.

Charlie, who Nick wishes he did have a fast car he could put him in and drive off with. Take them to a place where things are less complicated and Nick can allow himself to be put back together, piece by piece, by Charlie.

 Charlie, who plays his last beat so softly, almost as softly as Nick wishes he could press his mouth to this.

Charlie, who looks right at Nick as Jess’ guitar carries out the final note.

         Charlie gives him a full dimpled grin, and raises a playful brow at him that says, ‘well?’

         Nick gives him a smile back, and a nod. He brings his hands out in front of him in a praising applause that says, ‘well done.’

         Daisy breaks their contact by standing and stepping right in front of their line of sight again. She asks the crowd to give it up for the band, and the crowd easily obliges, erupting in loud sounds of claps and hollers and praises. Not that the response is any surprise to Nick. Even if he didn’t want to come apart and put back together again by their drummer, it would be hard to dispute that they absolutely crushed it.

         “Thank you for having us!” Daisy screams into the mic, “we are sapphic cowgirls! Featuring Charlie Spring.”

         The crowd’s applauses pick up volume once more, Daisy bows her head very dramatically, and then they’re making their way off the stage to make room for the next performer. Daisy walks off first, Chelsea next. Charlie goes right after, Nicks eyes following him the whole time, and Jess goes last.

         Cristian turns to them all, his eyes glassy with – are those tears?

         “I think I’m having a stroke,” Cristian says, “she was perfect.”

         “They were honestly really good,” Sai says, “I didn’t know that song before this and now I want to add it to my Spotify.”

         “Talented group,” Otis adds, “but, wait. Cristian, mate, not to blow your bubble but doesn’t sapphic mean something lesbian?”

         Cristian scratches his head, Otis looks puzzled, and Nick shrugs his shoulders.

         They’re a bit of an oblivious bunch to the queer community and language but given that 3/4s of them are straight, and all of them are in sports, the world can’t blame them too much.

         “One way to find out,” Nick says to mostly Cristian, “let’s go get them a round of congratulatory shots for their performance. They deserve it. And then you can make your move.”

         Once again, Nick is making decisions that are in way larger part for his own benefit and masking it as if it’s all for Cristian. But once again, Cristian is still going to benefit from it anyway, so Nick can’t find himself caring to fill badly about it.

         Cristian certainly seems grateful, as he slaps a hand on Nick’s shoulder, “this is why I needed you all here. And most of all you,” he tugs at the collar of Nick’s shirt for emphasis, “you’re the best wingman to ever exist.”

         “I again want to remind you, I was the first person supportive of you and your obsession,” Sai grumbles.

         “You’ll be the ring boy,” Cristian tells Sai.

         Nick laughs lightly, Cristian pats Sai’s head in what’s meant to be a reassuring matter, and then they’re walking towards the direction of the bar.

         The bar is surrounded by a decent crowd of people, causing them to wait their turn. This time, Nick doesn’t cut through the crowd. Doing it once already made him feel douchey enough, but doing it twice in one single night, and cutting to get faster service, are levels of assholelery that he isn’t willing to climb. Not even for Charlie. Though he does contemplate, only because it’s for him.

         As they wait, Nick feels the pit of his stomach bundle up nerves shaped like Charlie. It’s a wild arrangement of them – the good kind of nerves that flutter their wings, and the bad kind that makes him feel almost nauseous with the feeling. He lets the motions pass through him though, knowing there’s no turning back now anyway. Cristian is determined to get the girl and go full on with Nick’s plan.

         They finally make their way to the front of the line. Nick has managed to wipe his hands enough time on his pants to get rid of the perspiration that has begun to form from the bundle of nerves taking space in his stomach. And then, when their bartender comes up to them, he feels the palms of his hands begin to sweat like all that hard work he just did was for absolutely nothing.

         Because his bartender, as the universe would have it, is Amaya.

         He hasn’t seen her since the last time when he went soft inside her and she practically cursed him out for wasting her time. She looks good as ever, in an overly tight tank top that shows off her cleavage and very tiny shorts that would make any man, or woman, fall to their knees for a bit of her exposed flesh. But for Nick, it does nothing. If he was barely interested in her the last time he saw her, this time, his interest is in the negatives. It’s all lost.

         All he feels is awkward.

         “Amaya,” he says, and she’s looking at him with a dead expression, “what’re you doing here?”

         “Isn’t it obvious?” she waves her hand around to her surroundings, “bartending.”

         “Right, but. Why?”

         Amaya comes from an extremely wealthy family that is putting her through university penny free, just like Nick’s own father. She doesn’t need the job or the money, so Nick is just wondering why on Earth she’s working. And why it happens to be on the same night that he’s trying to find the courage to spend some time with Charlie, even if he knows it can lead nowhere else.

         “Bored,” she shrugs, like it’s a perfectly reasonable explanation, “and bartending is fun.”

         He knows by ‘fun’, she means ‘full of attention’ which she lives off.

         Nick thinks of what to say. But comes up blank. He never did send out that apology text, and he’s been grateful enough to not have ran into Amaya after their failed attempt at having sex. But of course, in the worst of times, she’s standing right in front of him. And she’s looking at him with a mix of indifference and rage.

         “Are you going to order, Nelson?” she lifts a brow and crosses her arms over her chest, pushing her cleavage out even more so. In the past, Nick’s eyes would’ve danced along it. Even lingered. Now, he just gulps.

         “Uh, yes,” he says, “sorry.”

         “For?”

         “Pardon?”

         “What’re you apologizing for?” she says, almost like she’s exhausted of having to explain herself.

         Everything. Leading you on that night. Giving you bad sex. Wasting your time. Not being able to give a single shit about you in that way anymore.

         “Oh, uh. Nothing – just. For taking long to order,” Nick clears his throat. His palms are drenched.

         “Then get on with it,” she says.

         “Right, right,” from his peripheral, Nick can see the guys eyeing them strangely, clearly not understanding why their interaction is so damn strained, “let me have eight shots of… anything. Tequila?”

         Amaya glares at him, and for a moment, Nick thinks she’s going to say a snarky remark. But as if she thinks better of it for whatever reason, all she does is hold out the palm of her hand for payment. Nick fishes out his card from his wallet in his back pocket and hands it to her. She yanks it with a bit of force, and then turns to get their order.

         He doesn’t look at his friends who are all exchanging glances and looking at him too. He’d rather not address it. He wouldn’t know how to explain it without divulging into other explanations he certainly doesn’t want to be talking about. Especially when he’s about to go up to Charlie, a move he had out of pure want but didn’t think through properly.

         Cristian is the brave one, that comes up next to Nick at the bar top and says, i, “thanks for the drinks, mate.”

         Nick just nods, “anytime.”

         A beat, and Nick knows Cristian’s going to comment on whar they all just witnessed.

         “Is everything okay between you and Amaya?” Cristian finally asks.

         Nick nods again, hoping Cristian will take his laugh of verbal responses as a hint that this isn’t something he wants to talk about.

         Another beat of silence washes over them and Nick thinks it might almost happen. Cristian might actually just drop it. But, Cristian is oblivious, the most oblivious one of their group, and can’t sometimes seem to take the hints that are so obviously glaring at him in his face.

         So, he says, “I just ask because that was just a super strange interaction for two people who fuck each other’s brains out.”

         Nick fights off the wince he feels at Cristian’s words. It’s not because he says them in a way or tone that comes out harshly, but because him saying it out loud serves as a reminder of how much has changed.

         “Used to,” Nick corrects him.

         “Wait – you’re not sleeping with her anymore?”

         “No,” Nick confirms, though he’s not sure why he keeps talking. The more he talks, the more Cristian will perceive it as a green light to continue the conversation Nick didn’t want to have in the first place.

         “Oh,” Cristian replies, and Nick knows he’s going to say something else before he does, “did something—”

         Nick doesn’t let him finish. His frustration is bleeding out of him from this entire conversation. He just wants it to be over. To give Cristian a response that won’t give him room to ask anything else and prolong it.

         “I got bored of fucking the same chick,” Nick says, almost defensively, “time for something new.”

         It’s not a complete lie, but he knows it’s the most asshole way of saying it. He’s not proud of himself for it. But he just wants Cristian to get off his back, to stop forcing him to face things he’s trying to walk away from not towards.

         “I guess that makes sense,” Cristian relents, finally, “even if Amaya is super fit. I can see how that could get boring.”

         Nick doesn’t say anything else, even if he feels slightly awful about the picture he’s just painted. He knows that the truth is not anywhere near as simple as the explanation he just gave Cristian. He knows that the reason he and Amaya are done sleeping together has very little to do with Amaya herself, and a lot to do with Nick’s own internal conflicts that continue to become more and more complicated.  

         When Amaya comes back a couple of minutes later, a new performer has taken the stage. It’s a younger, newer face, whose singing something sad on her acoustic guitar that fills the room with distracting music. Grabbing Cristian’s attention and moving it away from Amaya and Nick.

         Amaya slams Nicks card down on the bar top, gives him his receipt, and tells Nick his shots will be right out. Nick puts his card back in his wallet and puts it back in his back pocket, then signs the receipt leaving Amaya a hefty tip. It’s the only form of an apology he can give her. Not just for the last time they say each other, but for all the bullshit he just spewed to his friends about her. She likely deserves a lot more than that, but it’s all Nick can offer her.

         She comes back a moment latter and hands the shot glasses out to all of them, two each. Although they all have the same amount of shots to give out, Nick knows he wants to be the one to hand Charlie his.

         “Thanks,” Nick tells Amaya before walking off, “have a good one.”

         Amaya doesn’t even dignify him with a response. She just gives another bored look and moves on to her next customer in line. Nick can’t blame her. Despite cold and crass just being Amaya’s natural personality, he’s definitely bruised her ego too. Bad combination.

         Nick tries not to let it bother him too much and he turns his back to her and moves to his friends. The boys huddle around, each of them holding out two shots in their hands.

         “What now?” Sai asks, because it suddenly dawns on everyone that they don’t know where the band actually is in the crowd. Except, Nick does know. Or at least, he has a very good idea.

         “Follow me,” he tells them, without giving much away.

         Luckily for them, a lot of the crowd has dispersed. Getting through it isn’t as tight knight as it had been when they were making their way through it to try and see Daisy’s band close and up front. Nick is able to make way with much less brute force and dominance this time around, and also without bumping into people and having their drinks spill over.

         He makes his way to the far left of the room, where Amy and their group had been standing when sapphic cowgirls had been performing. He isn’t at all surprised to find that all members of the band have joined them. His eyes immediately look for, and easily find, Charlie.

         What he didn’t expect, of course, is the guy who he’d seen earlier in their group be so close to Charlie. He’s leaning into Charlie, whispering something in his ear that is making Charlie cover his mouth as he giggles. It sends a rush of jealousy straight to Nick’s gut, with a force that feels like a punch.

         Before, Nick had barely taken him in. He’d written him off as just another one of Charlie’s friends. But now that he’s all up in Charlie’s personal space, Nick can’t help but pay close attention to the guy who seems to not just be a friend. Or at least, he seems to be trying to not be just a friend. He’s tall, about Nick’s height, but with a much slender build even if there is some muscle there. His skin tone is darker than Nick’s by multiple shades, and it pairs well with his dark green eyes. His hair is similarly styled to Nick’s, except it’s shorter and black.

He’s not a bad looking guy. But Charlie can do better. Much better.

         The sight of them so close though is enough to make Nick stop in his tracks. It’s enough to make him lose the bit of confidence he was clinging to.

         Cristian stops next to Nick, “all right, Nick?”

         Nick tears his eyes away at the same moment he thinks Charlie looks over at him. It’s not like Nick to pass up a chance to lock eyes with Charlie, but he couldn’t take another second of it. As is, he’s struggling not to just turn and forget the whole thing even if it leaves his friends dazed and confused.  

         He looks at Cristian and tries his best to put on his best mask, “yeah. I just want you to take the lead now. She’s your girl.”

         Cristian visibly tenses, “ah, fuck. What do I say?”

         “How about something simple like, ‘got you guys these shots to celebrate your legendary performance’?” Sai suggests.

         Cristian looks at Nick for approval.

         He really can’t be damned to care right now, but he tries to stop being selfish for once tonight and actually be the friend Cristian has been thinking he’s been all night.

         “That works,” Nick says, “except maybe don’t say legendary. And be cooler about it.”

         “What the fuck?” Sai says.

         “Got it,” Cristian says at the same time.

         They walk up to them and Nick watches as Daisy turns and smiles wide at the sight of Cristian. Maybe Cristian isn’t entirely delusional, and this girl might be the one for him.

         Nick stays behind, letting Otis and Sai stand in front of him. He needs some distance between Charlie, the mystery guy, and himself. Minutes before, he was jumping at the opportunity to be near him. Now, Nick can barely bring himself to look over.

         “Hi Daisy,” Cristian greets her, “remember me?”

         “’Course I do!” Daisy replies, all bubbly.

         “Well, these are my mates. Sai, Otis and you probably know Nick,” Cristian vaguely gestures to each of them, as much as he can with two shots occupying each of his hands. Nicks not too thrilled the way he’s introduced him. He can feel all eyes on him. There are two pairs he avoids the most – Charlie’s and Amy’s. He smiles sheepishly at them, not meeting anyone’s eye for too long in particularly and avoiding those two altogether.

         “I got you and your band some shots to celebrate,” Cristian tells Daisy, “You were – I mean, you all, were so good. Best performance of the night.”

         “Awe, Cristian!” Daisy coos, “that’s so thoughtful. Thank you. Join in, band,” Daisy says to them.

         Cristian hands Daisy her shot, Otis hands one to Jess, and Nick quickly goes to hand one to Chelsea. He lets Sai hand one to Charlie, still avoiding direct eye contact even though he can feel the heat of Charlie’s stare burning holes in the side of his face.

         “Cheers!” Jess proclaims.

         “To Sapphic cowgirls!” Daisy shouts.

         They all bring their glasses up and over their heads and clink in the middle. And then their all throwing back their shots. The tequila burns, but not as much as the jealousy that Nick feels has taken over his whole body. He grimaces, though he’s not sure if it’s because of the tequila or the jealousy.  

         “Kind of rude of you, Nelson,” Amy says next to him, and he only jumps slightly because he hadn’t noticed her coming to his side, “where’s the rest of our shots?”

         She gestures with her hand to the rest of their friends, whom Nick left out but not really purposefully. Though now thinking about it, he really should’ve ordered thirteen shots to not be rude. Well – maybe twelve. He doesn’t care if the guy hanging all over Charlie feels left out. In fact, he almost hopes he does.

         He brings himself out of such vile thoughts and looks at Amy, “I—uh. I’m sorry, honestly it kind of slipped our minds.”

         Amy eyes him a bit warily, “I’ll let it slide this time because of the dinner you got us the other night,” Nick flushes red as Amy pioneers on, “it was fucking fantastic. Thanks for that.”

         “Yeah, no problem,” Nick says, scratching his brow in a nervous tick.

         “Nick bought you dinner?” Otis asks, and Nick’s worst nightmare comes true.

         He overhead, and now he’s looking in between Nick and Amy suspiciously.

         “Not really me. I’m a lesbian, remember?” Amy grins, clearly finding enjoyment in reminding Otis of his failures. Nick would find amusement in the laughable memory, if the next words that came out of Amy’s mouth didn’t leave a looming dread over him, “it was for Charlie. Payback for help on an assignment or something. Right?”

         Amy looks up at Nick questionably. Maybe even challengingly.

         Nick feels hot under the stare.

         “Yes,” he says, trying to sound confident in his answer. Even if it’s the truth, the whole-hearted truth, something about the way Amy asked it makes Nick believe she knows the other truth. The truth he’s been trying to bury since he met Charlie.

         “You know Charlie?” someone else asks, and when Nick looks forward, he sees that it’s Tara’s partner who still has her arm swung around her shoulder.

         Great, now everyone’s fucking listening, Nick thinks to himself.

         He suddenly feels cornered and is trying to find escape routes any which way he can. He’s about to just excuse himself to the loo and walk himself back to his flat, away from the chaos that feels like is starting to brew.

         But then Charlie is standing next to him, looking at their friends, coming to Nick’s defense in his own way, “we just met a couple of weeks ago. I helped him with his coursework, so Nick got us some ‘A Fisherman’s Lover’ for dinner to pay me back.”

         Nick can tell everyone, including his own friends, are mulling over the newfound information. He wonders what they’re making of it, if he should add something to make it sound as nonchalant as Charlie just has. But Nick can’t think of anything to say that won’t come out in a shaky voice that’ll give away just exactly how he’s feeling.

         “I fucking love that place,” Chelsea says, “best spot on campus.”

         “I don’t know,” Tara argues, “the fish can sometimes be too battered. It’s like all breading and no fish.”

         “Too battered?” Amy gawks, “what’s wrong with you? Are you a low-key serial killer?”

         And then they’re all engaging in a conversation that doesn’t center around Nick and Nick feels like he can breathe again.

         That is, until he remembers Charlie’s still right next to him.

         “Hi,” he hears Charlie say.

         Mindlessly, Nick turns to face him, “hi.”

         Charlie’s whole body is already angled towards Nick. He smiles up at him, something warm and soft in it, “I didn’t… expect you to be here tonight.”

         Nick didn’t expect to see him either. In fact, he’d come to this whole thing to avoid confronting everything he’s been feeling about Charlie. Last thing he thought would happen was that he’d see Charlie on stage. Playing the drums. And feel an overwhelming compelling emotion to be around him after.

         But here they are.

         “Cristian’s convinced he’s fallen in love,” Nick tries to explain easily, “what I really didn’t expect was to see you up there playing the drums like you’re Ringo Star. Any other talents I should know about from now, so I don’t keep getting caught off guard?”
         Nick’s surprised by his smooth delivery giving how fucking nervous he feels. And how much of the sting from the jealousy still lingers. But it’s worth it, for the way Charlie seems to blush from Nick’s words.

         “Ringo star? Please,” Charlie shakes his head, “I’m not that good. And I wasn’t supposed to be up there, by the way. Their drummer got a stomach bug last minute and couldn’t make the performance. I just filled the spot.”

         “Uh, I would argue that yes, you are that good,” Nick quickly compliments him, “I know you weren’t supposed to perform with them, but I can’t imagine anyone else having done it better. How long have you been playing the drums anyway?”

         “Since primary school. I was in band,” Charlie looks a bit shy as he gives the information, probably scared of how Nick will receive it. What Charlie doesn’t know is that anything Nick learns about Charlie he’d treat like it’s the discovery of the eighth wonder of the world.

         “That’s so cool,” Nick’s not sure he would think that if the information was given to him by anyone else, but because it’s Charlie, he means it entirely, “look at you – a musician, a writer. Painter?”

         Charlie blushes again, and Nick wants to continue speaking just to keep getting the same reaction out of him, “No chance. I can’t draw or paint for shit.”

         “I’m sure you could if you tried.”

         “You think too highly of me.”

         “Or you don’t think highly enough of yourself.”

         Charlie looks away, and Nick starts to doubt whether he said the right thing. Maybe he struck a nerve or crossed a line. Jeez, he doesn’t even know Charlie well enough to be saying such brass things. He’s about to apologize when Charlie returns his gaze to Nick, not look of discomfort in his eyes.

He does change the subject entirely though, “It it nice of your friends to buy us shots.”

         Nick’s eyes dart all over Charlie’s face. He’s drinking him in, slowly. Taking in the sharpness of his cheekbones, the depths of his eyes, the fullness of his lips. God, he’s beautiful. It’s almost distracting. And it’s so alluring, it makes Nick take the credit that is his.

         “It was my idea,” Nick admits to him, and he watches as Charlie goes over the meaning of Nick’s words in his head. Before Nick pulls Charlie in a little too close, closer than he can, he adds, “Cristian’s crushing very hard on Daisy. I’m just, you know. Playing wingman.”

         If Charlie’s disappointed by Nick’s explanation, he doesn’t show it. If anything, he just shows disinterest.

         “Ah,” is all he says.

         There’s an awkward lull in the conversation that makes those bad nerves in the pit of Nick’s stomach take over, crowding out the good ones. He opens his mouth to try and keep that from happening, but right in that moment, the boy who’d been all over Charlie earlier makes his way over.

         Nick watches with blazing eyes as he stands close to Charlie again and loops a careful hand around Charlie’s waist. It rests, lightly, on Charlie’s left hip. It makes Nick want to cut off his hands just so he can’t ever do it again.

         Nick can’t help but look, then remembers he’s on full display. He flicks his gaze away, back to Charlie’s face. But Charlie’s looking at him like he’s caught him, like he saw Nick staring and knew what he was thinking as he was.

         “Sorry to interrupt,” the asshole says, “was just thinking of heading to the bar and wanted to ask if you wanted another drink, Charlie?”

         Charlie looks at Nick, then at the boy who is once again crowding his personal space – does this guy know boundaries? Unless there are very few of them drawn between the two because, well.

         The thought alone makes Nick sick to his stomach.

         He needs to get away from them as soon as possible. Without fully giving himself away.

         “Uh, sure,” Charlie says, barely looking at the guy, then he’s looking at Nick before Nick can just turn and talk to anyone else, “Nick, this is Manny. Manny this is Nick.”

         “Yeah, of course,” the guy – Manny apparently – says, “Nelson. Rugby king.”

         Even the way he says it makes Nick’s skin crawl. It’s not necessarily in complimentary way. Nick decides not to let it phase him, because as much trouble as it’s caused him in his life, it’s also something he’s not shy of. He’s good at rugby, and yes, he has a reputation that precedes him.

         “Yup,” Nick says, squaring his jaw only slightly, “that’s me. And you are?”

         Tone it the fuck down, the voice inside his head warns him. Nick knows he should. Nick being all macho, chest puffed, over Charlie is not giving the platonic vibes it should be. But it’s hard to temper his emotions. The seething loathing and jealousy he feels over this guy.

         “Manny’s the treasurer for that LGBTQ+ Society club I told you about,” Charlie interjects, clearly trying to take control of the conversation before it spirals.

         Of fucking course, this guy would be just what Charlie needs.

         “That’s nice,” Nick doesn’t mean it, “nice to meet you.”

         “You too,” Manny returns to him, though Nick’s sure he means it even less, “so, Charlie?”

         Charlie looks uncomfortable as he looks between them, “sure. Nick, would you like one?”

         Nick doesn’t want a single thing from Manny. Except for him to remove his hand from Charlie’s hip. Yet, he wants everything from Charlie. Anything he’s willing to offer him. Then Nick reminds himself he can’t even take it, even if Charlie did offer it. But Manny probably could, and Charlie deserves that.

         Fuck. Me.

         “No, thanks,” Nick responds, “need a moment to let the shot you know, digest. You two go for it though.”

         There’s a look of something that flashes through Charlie’s face, but Nick doesn’t stick around to find out what it is. He extracts himself from the situation and backs away, going to stand with his friends who are mingling with Charlie’s friends. Nick’s beginning to wonder why he ever thought getting all of them to interact would be a good idea. He made a haste decision based off high-running emotions at the mere sight of Charlie. And then he was a total dick to someone he doesn’t know, because he was feeling jealous and possessive. Over a person who isn’t his. To any capacity. Could likely never be his.

         What are you doing to me, Charlie?

         “You look stressed over there,” someone says.

When Nick looks up, not even realizing he’d been looking down, he realizes the person who said it is Tara’s partner. And they’re speaking to him.

Tara elbows her partner’s ribcage, “ignore her,” she tells Nick with a friendly smile, “this is my loud, insensitive partner, Darcy.”

Nick gives her a small wave, “nice to meet you.”

“See? He thinks it’s nice to meet me,” Darcy says to Tara tucked underneath her arm, “don’t elbow me again for just pointing out the obvious.”

Tara elbows her again, “please ignore her. How have you been, Nick?”

Awful.

“Good,” he lies, “and you?”

“Good just a little, you know. Overwhelmed. This our last year. Thinking about what comes next is a bit stressing.”

Nick would be able to relate if he was as much worried about that as he’s been on what’s been going on with him. He fakes it anyway.

“Yeah, thinking about the future is always a bit scary.”    

“Unless you have your whole future planned out for you like you do,” Amy, who Nick has no idea when she came to his side again, joins in.

Nick looks at her, hating the words that have just left her mouth. Not because they’re untrue, but because they are.

He tries to shrug it off, “I guess so. Though, I still have to work hard to make that happen.”

“Do you though?” Amy questions him, cocking her head to the side, “I’m pretty having ‘Nelson’ alone gets you in to the pro leagues. You don’t have to be half as good as anyone else. Mediocre at best.”

Although Amy’s not entirely wrong with her analysis, she’s not entirely right either. Yes, Nick could get to where he wants to go purely riding of the coattails of his father’s success and their family name. But Nick’s never wanted to be that guy. He’s always worked his ass off to be the best rugby player he can be so people can’t equate his success to him just being his father’s son.

“You’re not wrong,” Nick tells Amy, “I could just be a Harry Greene for example. But I’ve worked really hard anyway because I’m not just trying to get into the pros by riding off my father’s name. I want to get in because I’m talented.”

Amy looks slightly impressed. For Amy, that is. Nick’s not sure Amy’s the kind of person who’s easily impressed by anyone.

“Even if you were just riding on your dad’s success, I don’t think it’s a bad thing,” someone else chimes in, and when Nick looks it’s the other friend with them that Nick hadn’t recognized from earlier. She’s plump, with a stunning skin tone that’s close to Manny’s but looks far better on her. She has beautiful long, dark hair that she wears down her back, “I’d definitely take advantage of my parents’ success if they had any.”

Amy cackles next to Nick, and the sound is a bit infectious. He laughs a little, along with her.

“I’m sure your parents are successful in their own way,” Nick tries to be polite.

The girl gives him an incredulous look, “not at all, mate. I’m the only saving grace in my family. First generation university attendee.”

“Congratulations,” Nick says genuinely.

“Thanks,” she replies like it’s not a big deal at all, “I’m Sahar.”

“Don’t say ‘nice to meet you’ again, for the love of God,” Amy interjects before Nick has a chance to say just that.

Nick laughs, because well – Amy is a bit funny.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Nick smiles, side eyeing Amy a bit.

Amy gives him a look, then a smile, then a laugh.

“Idiot.”

After that, the conversations continue to flow well. Nick’s surprised how so seamlessly their friend groups embed into one another, although they couldn’t be further apart in personalities and interests. Nick finds Charlie’s friends very different from his own. They’re more open, unphased of saying what they think. They don’t hold back, even if their opinions may cause a stir. And they’re able to carry all types of conversations, from deep topics to superficial banter. Nick’s friends usually keep it at superficial banter. It’s nice to see a group of friends get deeper with one another. Talk more. Express themselves more freely. Even if Nick doesn’t fully engage in it.

The only horrible part about his night is Manny and Charlie. Even the performers, although a lot have sung sad songs, have been enjoyable. But Manny has clung to Charlie’s side all night, keeping Nick far away from him. Nick is fully incapable of handling the feelings inside him that appear when he catches sight of them. When Nick gives his back to them, he can almost forget that feeling in the pit of his stomach that seems to overtake him whenever he sees them together. He can almost fully enjoy himself, because really everything else about the night is going great and smoothly. But when he sees Manny lean into Charlie, or worse, Charlie lean in back and giggle, he wants to throw up. When he sees Manny wrap his arm more comfortable around Charlie’s waist and pull him in, and Charlie sloppily crashing into Manny’s side, he feels like death is looming at the corner. When he sees Manny push a stray curl out of Charlie’s face affectionately, he feels like death’s already come knocking on his door. And he wants to punch the poor guy, though he’s not doing anything Nick wouldn’t do if he could.

He knows it’s irrational. It’s stupid. It’s pointless emotions washing over him, but he can’t help it. He can’t help but feel physically ill and unwell at the sight of it.

It just sucks he’s barely had any time with Charlie because of it. Although, for that, he knows he’s half to blame. He’s sure he’s caught Charlie trying to come up to him a few times, but every time, Nick’s found a way to dodge him. Each time Nick’s struck up conversation with someone else at that very moment or dragged someone to the bar with him. Whenever Charlie’s entered a group conversation he’s in, Nick’s found a way to silently exit it and move on to someone else again.

He's not sure if Charlie is taking it personally. He can’t imaging he isn’t. But what is Nick supposed to tell him?

‘It’s not you, it’s the guy who has been glued to your side all night. I can’t stand watching you be affectionate and flirty with someone else because I want you all to myself even though I can’t have you?’

Yeah, no.

So Nick’s been letting it play out the way it’s been playing ut.

Surprisingly, the person he’s spent most of his time with tonight is Amy. Though they’ve been in the same campus for the last three years, and neighbors for two, this is the most they’ve ever said to one another. They’ve been chatting it up all night. Amy’s learned things about him, and Nick has done the same. She’s obviously made fun of him a lot too, but Nick actually finds her humorous. She’s also been the only one to go to toe to toe with Nick on the number of alcoholic beverages he’s consumed. Every time Nick’s gotten a drink, Amy has too.

Nick’s been drinking far past his limit, but he’s just kept hoping with every drink the numbing effect will eventually take place, and Nick will be able to have a conversation with Charlie without caring about him and Manny.

However, many drinks later, and Nick is still chasing that feeling. He’s not sure what keeps Amy doing the very same. He’s wondered at multiple points in the night if she’s trying to escape something too. But he doesn’t ask. They just drink and drink and drink.

At one point, while they’re ordering yet another drink at the bar. Amaya serves them again, being as cold as she was earlier. Nick’s far looser, and far more friendly, even if the desire to fuck her doesn’t return. Amaya is immune to his charm though, giving Nick a nasty look despite his niceness.

He still can’t blame her, but Amy seems the exact opposite.

“I don’t know how you fuck that girl,” Amy says when they leave the bar, Amaya-made drinks in their hands, “she’s such a cunt.”

Nick laughs so loudly he feels various eyes on him, but he can’t help it. Amy’s harsh, but at least she’s honest.

“I’m not fucking her anymore,” he tells Amy, his tongue looser because of the alcohol.

Amy eyes him but doesn’t ask why like Cristian did. Instead, she nods once, “good.”

The night goes on and on, and by the time Nick even notices, their group are amongst the only people left in the bar. ‘Music night’ came to an end hours ago, the bar already called ‘last call’ and the night is dwindling down. Everyone’s pretty piss drunk, even if Nick and Amy are by far the most.

He’s standing around with Amy, Otis, Daisy, Cristian, Sai and Sahar. He can hear Charlie, Manny, Tara, Darcy and Jess behind them chatting too, but he’s too focused on a funny story Daisy’s just told. The details are a bit fuzzy, giving his entire brain is, but he’s still in a fit of giggles.

Cristian’s arm is around her shoulders, and the night going well for him makes Nick happy. At least it went well for one of them.

“Okay, okay,” Otis says, wiping away tears and shifting gears, “I do have a question for you though, Daisy. Unrelated to your story.”

Daisy smiles kindly, “fire away.”

“Your band is called ‘sapphic cowgirls’, yeah?”

Nick rolls his eyes, thinking he knows where it’s going.

Daisy nods along, “yes,” she drags out the ‘s’ for effect.

“Okay, right,” Otis continues, “so, correct me if I’m wrong but doesn’t sapphic mean something lesbian?”

Nick can’t help the laugh that escapes him, and he can feel it catching the group behind them’s attention. He can feel the gravitational pull of Charlie. Like he always does when Charlie’s in the same room as him. Or the same space. That’s how he knows he’s getting close. He keeps his back turned though, focused on Otis’ spiraling.

“Where the fuck is this going?” Amy asks next to him, not seeming actually bothered despite the use of her words.

Nick shrugs in response.

“Again, yes,” Daisy answers with patience.

“Then… I mean no offense,” Otis says, and Sai groans which causes Nick to giggle again, “but wouldn’t that mean you’re, you know. Gay?”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Amy says, “are all straight men this obtuse?”

“Amy,” he hears Charlie say in warning, though it’s light. He’s so close, probably right next to Amy who is right next to him and yet Nick can’t bring himself to look over.

Daisy shakes her head like she’s disappointed by the question, but the smile says she’s not taking it to heart. Eventually, she answers, “bisexual people exist, Otis.”

Otis looks embarrassed suddenly. Nick feels his muscles tense a bit at the open mention of the sexuality no one knows also applies to him, but he lets the liquid he’s consumed all night keep him relaxed.

“Oh, yeah,” is all Otis replies with.

Nick almost feels bad for him, had he not dug his own hole by asking such a weird question so openly. Nick’s ready to move on from the conversation though, having it tread too close to uncharted Nick territory for his liking. Nick’s about to redirect them, when Cristian speaks.

He looks at Daisy, “you’re bisexual then?”

Daisy gives him a sweet nod, “I am.”

What happens next, nothing and no one could have prepared Nick for. Nick doesn’t see it coming either, like a moving train that appears out of nowhere. Crashing into him with a force that’s bone crushing, and unlike anything he’s ever felt.

“That’s cool!” Cristian slurs. And maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the comfortable ambiance, maybe it’s Cristian letting his nerves of getting at girls get the better of him, but when he says next makes Nick feel like his whole world has tumbled.

“That’s totally fine with me,” Cristian barrels on, “like totally. You’re like Nick! Bisexual people are cool.”

Nick freezes instantly. And he notices the same way the tension becomes sharp so quickly between all of them. He notices the way Otis and Sai give Cristian a wide-eyed disapproving look. He notices the way other people give each other wary looks, not knowing how to or if to intervene. If to say something. If to do something.

Nick, himself, doesn’t know what to do.

So, he does the only thing he can do. He blocks it all out and walks off. He doesn’t know how he doesn’t drop the glass in his hands. How he manages to leave in on the bar top as he storms off in a rush.

He feels the ringing in his ears and the uncomfortable pressure in his chest that feels like it’s crushing him. Collapsing his ribcage in, making his heart bleed and his lungs feel small. He feels like he can barely get a breath in. Suddenly, breathing has become something he has to think about, to do. He feels the blood rush through his veins in a treacherous way, with too much force and too much venom. He feels the world falling apart around him, his vision blurring at the edges as the sky falls over his head and the ground gives out underneath his feet. He feels like everything he’s ever been, everything he is, and everything he hopes to be, is gone. Replaced by the empty shell of him.

He's bent over on a wall, trying to keep himself up. But it’s hard, so hard when he can feel his body floating as he gasps for air.

What the fuck is happening? What the fuck is happening?

He feels like he’s dying. Truly. He feels like his final moments on earth are numbered, and he’s clutching onto his chest, trying to relieve some of the pressure and then he hears it. The voice through the rushing of his blood, through the ringing of his ears, through the pressure crushing him.

“Nick.”

It’s muffled as it goes through, but it does. Nick knows who it belongs to instantly.

But he can’t look at him because he can’t look up. Because he can’t breathe.

He hangs his head low, trying his best but nothing is getting better.

Then he hears it again, and it pierces through more that time.

“Nick.”

It’s almost enough but not quite. He’s about to just give up, just shut his eyes and let the dreadful feeling consume him when there’s a hand on his chest. It’s not his own.

And suddenly, like a miracle, everything stops.

The ringing in his ears goes silent. His blood stops rushing and goes back to pulsing through his body at a normal speed. The pressure in chest subsides, giving room for his lungs to breath in air more normally.

With one touch from Charlie, Nick feels healed.

“There you go,” Charlie says gently, his hand just as gently, but also firmly, on Nick’s chest, “breathe. Easy. In and out. In and out.”

Nick looks at him and Charlie’s face is so close to his. Closer than it’s ever been. He focuses on his eyes, what he thinks is his favorite feature of Charlie’s. He’s been mesmerized by their unique color since the day he first saw him. They’re unlike any other shade of blue that Nick’s ever seen. They’re blue, but so deep and dark one wouldn’t be able to tell at first glance. But then the more you stare, the more obvious it becomes. The brighter they seem.

Nick puts his hand over Charlie’s almost instinctually, and he thinks he hears Charlie intake a small breath. But if he does, Nick doesn’t stay fixated on that.

Instead, he focuses on how calming Charlie’s touch is.

It’s like he’s the calm through the storm. The eye of the hurricane. The rest of the Nick’s life is chaos and destructive, but at the very center of it all lives Charlie and his healing touch. And in that center, Nick can just be. He can float in the ocean, instead of being drowned by its cascading waves of hurt and confusion.

Nick stands up a bit, still needing the wall behind him for support. He doesn’t let go of Charlie’s hand, and Charlie stands up with him, not letting go either. They’re looking at one another, their faces inches apart. Nick’s eyes do what they want, and his gaze flicks to Charlie’s lips. If a single touch from Charlie could heal so much in him, he’s sure a single kiss would dissolve all his life’s miseries. Charlie’s so close, Nick could just wet his own lips, lean in, and do it. But then Nick catches himself.

There are so many reasons why he shouldn’t do that. He’s struggling to remember most of them, but he takes in their surroundings. Nick doesn’t know how he got there, but they’re standing right outside Nick’s door.

Nick then remembers the best and only reason he needs to remember to not make the same mistake twice: Thomas.

He leans back a bit, creating space between them. He leans his head back on the wall, his legs still struggling to keep him up. He closes his eyes and tries to regulate his breathing.

He squeezes Charlie’s hand as he does, and when he feels the steading of his heartbeat and his lungs return to their normal size, he lets go. The anchor Charlie served as no longer needed. Nick is at shore.

Charlie leaves his hand on Nick’s chest for just a moment longer before he drops it. Nick misses is instantly.

Nick takes another couple of breaths before he opens his eyes and turns his head to look at Charlie.

Charlie’s leaning his shoulder on the way, watching Nick carefully. He offers the smallest of smiles, and Nick grabs whatever little bit of energy he has left to return it.

 It’s quiet between them, neither offering words right away. It’s not an uncomfortable silence though. It’s soothing almost.

Charlie breaks it after some minutes.

“This might be a silly question but, are you okay?”

Nick contemplates lying. He contemplates telling Charlie he’s fine, he just had a weird moment, but he doesn’t even know why because Cristian’s an idiot, and he just needs to sleep off the alcohol. But he doesn’t have it in him to lie. It’s like he’s gassed out on lying for the night.

“No,” he whispers, like he doesn’t want to let the secret spill, “I’ve just been so confused. So, so confused,” he inhales sharply, “lost.”

Charlie watches him. A sadness in his eyes that isn’t sympathetic, but empathetic. Like he truly understands.

“Figuring out… who you are, is challenging. It’s possibly one of the hardest things someone can go through,” Charlie whispers back, “take it from someone who knows.”

“I think I know who I am, I just don’t know what to do with it,” Nick says, opening up a piece of himself that lives in the shadows. He doesn’t know why he feels comfortable doing it with Charlie of all people, but he does. And he can’t push back on it anymore tonight. It might literally break him in half.

         It’s quiet again, and then Nick asks him because he just has to know. He has to ask. He can’t stand not knowing anymore. Especially after what’s just happened.

         “Do you know,” he exhales, “about me?”

         His voice is small. But Charlie doesn’t look at him like he is.

         “I don’t know nearly enough about you,” Charlie answers, and Nick knows he’s dodging the question in his own way. The sidestep is enough to let Nick knows Charlie does know. It’s not surprising, but it feels heavy. Before Nick can dwell on the meaning of it, Charlie adds “but I wish I did. I would like to.”

         His words make Nick’s heartbeat pick up, but not in the panicking way learning that Charlie has some knowledge of Nick and the video, probably has since the moment the met. But in a refreshing kind of way.

         “I don’t think you do.”

         Charlie huffs out what feels like a forced laugh and shakes his head once, “Nick, please don’t tell me what I want. I know what I want. And I just told you what that is. You don’t have to, you know, formally accept it. But you can’t just tell me what it is I do or don’t want.”

         Nick doesn’t know what to say to that, so he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he lets his heart go, beat at whatever rhythm it wants with Charlie’s existence pumping it through.

         “Why do you want to get to know me?” Nick eventually asks, his voice barely audible.

         “Because I think you’re someone worth getting to know,” Charlie answers easily.

         It’s quiet again. Nick keeps failing at finding the appropriate words. He wants to fight Charlie, but he doesn’t think Charlie would let him. He thinks of maybe admitting to Charlie how he thinks the exact same of him, probably even more, but doesn’t think he can summon the right words and phrases to say it properly.

         “Look, Nick,” Charlie speaks again, “I meant it when I just said I know how hard figuring yourself is. I was in your shoes once. At least in some respects. I found talking to and surrounding yourself with people who… understand you, helps. It helps a lot, actually. Much more than hiding away.”

         Nick feels his stomach drop at the insinuations in Charlie’s words. They’re dancing around it, but they’re both fully aware of it too. ‘It’ being Nick’s sexuality, and his own personal qualms about it.

         Though Nick isn’t sure Charlie understands what those qualms are. Nick’s not ashamed of being bisexual. He never has been. He just knows there’s nowhere in his world where it fits. If everything that happened with Thomas last term, and the fucking video, proved anything it’s that.

         Nick’s explanation dies in his throat. He’s just looking at Charlie. He could never get tired of doing just that.

         “I’m going to say something, and it might make you feel a bit panicked. But please understand I’m just – I want what’s best for you. So, try your best to remember that. Okay?”

         Nick feels his heart beat spike just at the suggestion in Charlie’s words. He almost thinks to tell him just not to, but he can’t do that to Charlie. He just can’t. He gives a weak nod instead. A nonverbal cue for Charlie to keep going.

         “The LGBTQ+ Society meets every Wednesday at five. Our next meeting is tomorrow. I think you should come,” before Nick can spiral Charlie continues, “not for any particular reason. And you don’t have to speak if you don’t want to. You can hang back. Just listen. Just watch. People share a lot of helpful stories and give a lot of helpful advice. It’s a good support system. And if nothing else, I’ll be there.”

         The last bit is his strongest selling point, because Nick thinks he’d follow Charlie anywhere he goes.

         But he’s not sure he can do it. He’s not sure if he’s ready.

         Nick opens his mouth, “I –”

         Charlie cuts him off gently, “you don’t have to decide right now. Just think about it, yeah? I truly do think it could be helpful. Even if you’re not actively participating, which please don’t feel pressured to.”

         The conversation is starting to feel heavy, and Nick can feel the bile climbing up his throat. He just wants everything to stop. If he had the power to manipulate time, he wouldn’t hesitate to use it.

         “I think I need to lay down,” Nick says.

         Charlie nods, “you probably should.”

         Nick stares at Charlie a bit longer, trying to etch out his features perfectly so he can recreate the image in his mind whenever he likes. Then, when he decides it’s time, he kicks himself off the wall. His legs feel like Jell-O and his bones feel achy as he does. He really does need to go to bed.

         “Charlie,” Nick says before he turns and goes to hide away in his flat, “thank you.”

         It’s not even a fraction of what he wants to say, but it’s all he can muster under the circumstances.

         Charlie smiles softly, “anytime, Nick. Go get some rest.”

         “You too,” Nick replies.

         And then, because he’s tired of fighting his instincts, and he’s too tired to keep fighting that pull on his chest that leads him right to Charlie, he hugs him.

         Without allowing himself to overthink it, Nick wraps his arms around Charlie’s middle back. He doesn’t squeeze and he doesn’t hold him too tightly. He pulls him just enough. He can tell Charlie is caught off guard by it, because he stiffens momentarily at the suddent contact. But then Charlie’s body relaxes against Nicks, and he circles his arms around Nick’s shoulders. Their bodies flushed together makes Nick feel everything all at once. All those sparks he feels whenever their eyes simply meet turn into flames of want, desire, and something far more powerful than Nick is capable of understanding. He can’t make it out what it is, because he's never felt it before. And he knows he’s not about to figure it out tonight. All he does know is that he could stay with his arms wrapped around Charlie for the rest of his life, happily succumbing to that feeling spreading wide across his chest and all his nerve endings, and never find himself needing anything else.

         Suddenly, like Nick’s mind is finally starting to work again, he remembers where they are. And where they’re holding one another.

 It’s a hug, not a damn kiss or anything salacious enough to warrant video evidence of. But Nick still knows it’s risky. As right, and as warm, and as electrifying having their bodies flush against one another’s is, Nick reluctantly lets go. Trying to save them both any trouble.

         Nick pulls back only enough at first to be inches from Charlie face. He sees Charlie’s eyes dart all over his face, like he’s counting every single freckle. He wants to ask Charlie what he’s thinking of when he stares at Nick like that. But he doesn’t. He just detangles himself completely, creating that necessary distance between them.

         Nick steps back, “Goodnight, Charlie.”

         Charlie stays where he is, “Goodnight, Nick.”

         He turns and doesn’t allow himself to look back, because if he does, Nick’s not sure he’ll be able to continue to resist temptation. So, he walks into his flat without another word or glance Charlie’s way. When he gets into his room, he collapses on his bed. His eyes drift off easily, the emotional turmoil of the day sending him into exhaustion.

He dreams of how it feels to hold Charlie. Safe, warm, soul connecting.

In his dreams, he never lets go.  

Nick couldn’t do it.

He’d gotten as far as walking towards the room where he found out they were meeting, the information waiting for him an envelope with his name on it that had been pushed through the bottom slit of his flat’s door. Someone had then slide it through the crack in Nick’s bedroom door.

But when he got there, the door closed and the sound of too many voices coming from the other side, he chickened out. Maybe it’s all just too fresh. Maybe he needs more time to pass between what Cristian said out loud to a group full of strangers and facing some of those very same people. Maybe he’s just not entirely sure what he’s meant to be doing there. What is he seeking out exactly? Community, understanding?

Nick doesn’t even know if they could offer him that. Not even people who are in his close circle seem to be able to. During practice that morning, Nick pointedly avoided Cristian, Sai, and Otis’ eyes. He never once looked over at them, never once made direct eye contact or conversation. He’d left to practice before they did, and made sure to leave practice way after they did too. During practice, he could Cristian was trying his best to speak to Nick, but Nick made sure he never gave him the window of opportunity. He kept them all busy with drills, running plays, and not providing many breaks in between. He threw them all into the game as much as he was throwing himself into the game, to avoid confrontation.

Nick is sure that Cristian was trying to grab his attention to apologize, but Nick doesn’t think he’s ready to speak about it to any capacity. Not even to an accept an apology. And it isn’t only because he’s angry at Cristian. Though he is, even if he’s not sure whether it’s fair for him to be or not. He knows what Cristian said wasn’t said maliciously, and he also understands that what he said is probably not brand new information to anyone given everything that happened last term. Though a lot of people have acted like it never happened, he’s not too sure people have actually forgotten. He’s sure people have drawn their own conclusions of it by now, and the conclusion is likely that Nick does like men. To some capacity at least.

So, it isn’t just that. It’s because Nick doesn’t feel ready to talk about it yet. What it meant. The implications of it. At least not with just anyone. Though his friends are not just anyone, Nick knows that they’re also not the right people to talk about it with. They wouldn’t understand. Maybe the people in the LGBTQ+ Society were more the right track, but as much as Nick had tried, he just couldn’t walk in through that door.

But there’s another door that’s been open since last night. One that Nick has kept closed and lock for a long time that feels swung open. He doesn’t think he’s going to be able to continue to walk past it like it doesn’t exist. Like it doesn’t matter. Because it does, and now that it’s open, Nick feels that he needs to find a way to walk through it.

Nick hadn’t found the courage to attend the LGBTQ+ Society meeting, but he’d found it enough to go up to Charlie’s flat door and give it a gentle knock.

He didn’t find quite who he was looking for, but he found someone who could help him get there. He’d found Amy answering on the other side.

For once, her look didn’t hold anything behind it that scared Nick. In fact, it was hard for him to read the look in her eyes at all.

She hadn’t really greeted him, just asked, “looking for Charlie?” like she could see through his flesh and straight to his brain.

“Yes,” he’d said, easily. He didn’t offer any more information or form of an explanation as to why. He didn’t really want to, and she seemed to have respected that because she didn’t ask. She simply told him where he could probably find him.

That’s why Nick is back in the campus library. It’s not lost on him that half of his total number of visits to the library during his three-year university experience have been in the last couple of weeks.

He wanders about the space, not bothering to ask Barb for directions. This time, he doesn’t actually think she’d be any help in helping find what he’s looking for. Who he’s looking for.  

Nick peers his head through plenty of bookshelves before he finally finds who he’s been wanting to see. On the floor, sat in between the shelves of the ‘thriller’ section with his legs sprawled out, a book in his hands and a notebook on his lap, is Charlie Spring.

Charlie looks up as Nick walks further in, approaching him. Nick wasn’t sure whether he’d see a disappointed look in Charlie’s eye when they came face to face because he hadn’t shown up to the meeting. But he’s happy to find that there’s no judgement in Charlie’s eyes. Which shouldn’t be as surprising as Nick finds it. Charlie’s never been anything but kind.

Charlie smiles at Nick, inviting and warm.

“So, I guess it is customary of students to do this?” Nick gestures with his hand to Charlie sat down on the floor, drawing back on the first conversation they ever had. The first time they ever met.

Charlie’s smile grows a bit, “maybe it’s just me.”

Nick hums, “do you mind if I join you?”

Charlies shakes his head, “not at all.”

With all the courage and bravery Nick has left in him, he walks and takes a seat right next to Charlie. He’s not flush against him, but their shoulders are inches apart. The bolts of electricity can be felt in that small sliver of space Nick leaves for them not to touch. Yesterday, his mind was too busy and too focused on the pain to pay attention to how it felt for them to touch. Today, that fog has cleared enough that direct contact is dangerous. More dangerous than ever before with how vulnerable Nick still feels.

Nick looks forward, not directly look at Charlie, though he can feel Charlie staring at his profile.

Nick leans his head back against the bookshelf. It’s uncomfortable, but not any more than the conversation Nick is trying to have. But he knows he needs to have it with someone. And a part of, though terrified, wants to.

Nick draws in a deep breath, before exhaling.

“I tried to go today,” he says, his voice small. Shame creeping into it.

“Nick, it’s okay,” Charlie quickly reassures him, “it was just a suggestion.”

“I tried,” Nick says anyway, though Charlie’s not asking him to explain himself, “I just—I don’t think I’m ready yet. To just… you know.”

“I understand,” Charlie sounds like he does, “I really do. I only suggested it to try and be helpful but you’re the one who determines, at the end of the day, what will actually be helpful to you.”

Nick turns his head slightly to get a good look at Charlie. He’s wearing a fluffy blue jumper that makes that deep, blue color of his eyes pop out even more. Nick almost compliments him on it, then reminds himself he’s not here to flirt. He’s here for something much more important.

 “But… and I really hope I’m not overstepping too much,” Charlie says, his voice barely above a whisper, “but I really do think you should find someone to talk to. Maybe a room full of people is not the place to start. But anyone. It helps.”

Nick swallows. He wants to wrap his arm around Charlie’s shoulder and pull him into his chest and have that be enough. But he knows it isn’t.

He knows Charlie is right.

“I think you’re right,” Nick tells him, and Nick uses the motivation of Charlie’s grin that reveals those adorable dimples of him to say what he says next.

“So, can we go somewhere private?”

Chapter Text

Nick’s words echo through Charlie’s mind.
         He feels the stammering of his heart in chest, outlined in the shape of Nick’s question. He’s not sure his chest has enough space to deal with his heart’s thunderous movements at what Nick is implying by what he’s just asked. He’s almost afraid it’s going to jump out of his chest. Land perfectly in the palm of Nick Nelson’s hand.

He thinks the unexpectedness of it is also throwing him off. Because only twenty-four hours ago, Nick was so terrified of the idea of speaking about himself so candidly, he ran out of the bar without a word in a clearly distressed state. Charlie found him in hunched over in their hallway, having a full-blown panic attack. But now, he seems ready to talk to some capacity. And he wants to talk to Charlie. He’s choosing Charlie to talk about this with.

Nick is choosing Charlie.

And that alone is making it hard for Charlie to remember his own name. Much less how to form coherent enough words to give him an immediate response. He doesn’t try to let this show on his exterior. On the exterior, Charlie tries to exude calmness. He keeps his facial expression as neutral as he certainly doesn’t feel, and he hopes that Nick can’t hear or feel the intense beating of his chart.

It’s only been a few seconds of silence that have stretched between them since Nick’s asked, but Charlie doesn’t want to let it stretch out further. He doesn’t want Nick to get the wrong idea. To think that Charlie has no interest in this. Because Charlie has more interest in getting to know this little piece of Nick Nelson than he takes interest In most things. He also doesn’t want Nick to retreat, to take back his offer. Charlie would respect him if he did, of course, but he’d still be disappointed over it.

He wants this piece of Nick that Nick is offering to him, even if he’s not sure why he’s offering it to him to begin with. The semantics of it all can wait. It’s there, right in front of Charlie form Charlie to take for him. He’d be damned if he didn’t.

“Yes,” Charlie says, his voice soft and not overtly eager. He makes sure not to use a certain infliction in his voice that would give off just how much he wants this. Just how dead-set he is to have it. The last thing he wants is to scare Nick off.

Nick sits still beside Charlie, the words floating through the space between them and sinking into his skin. Charlie watches as they do, and Nick keeps his doe eyed expression that lets Charlie know that he’s still struggling with this. With opening this part of himself to someone else. Charlie wants to reach a gentle hand up to his cheek and reassure him with one single touch that it’s okay. That Nick can trust him. Because Charlie would never do anything to hurt him. But he keeps his hands on his lap and his words of reassurance to himself. He's not going to push Nick into something Nick doesn’t know for certain he wants to do. He wants Nick to come to that decision on his own.

After a few beats of silence, Charlie tells him as much.

“Only if you really want to, Nick,” Charlie adds, “if you’re not – if you don’t feel very sure then we don’t have to do this right now. Or at all.”

“I want to,” Nick answers quickly, the words tumbling out of his mouth before Charlie’s finished his own, “where can we go?”

Charlie grabs on to Nick’s offer with shaky hands but a tight grip. It’s his now, and Charlie’s mind scrambles to find easy solutions to make sure it stays his.

He goes through their options silently in his head.

Their flats are the most accessible and closest to get to, but he doesn’t actually think either of their places would be a good idea. Their bedrooms would offer the kind of privacy they’re looking for, but they’d have to bypass both of their roommates. Charlie’s not sure what kind of state Nick is in with his, but after last night, he’s sure they’re not in the best of places. Charlie and Amy are also in a sort of weird place after last night and he’d rather not risk her saying anything that could send Nick running out of their flat in a panic. Plus, Charlie’s not sure he’s ready for the kind of intimacy being in Nick’s bedroom, or having Nick in his own bedroom, would create.

Nowhere else on campus seems like it would be able to offer the privacy they need. The only place that seems somewhat suitable are the private study rooms in the library. But the library is reaching its closing hours, and Charlie is sure Barb is minutes away from berating them into being more mindful of the time.

Just as Charlie begins to grow frustrated at his lack of resolutions, an idea strikes him.

“Maybe we can go somewhere off campus?” he suggests. As his mouth catches up with the ideas in his head, he continues, “I know a pub that’s pretty much a hole in the wall and doesn’t really generate a crowd. It’s open until late and, even if there are some people around, we’d be pretty anonymous there.”

Nick doesn’t offer an immediate response, and Charlie knows he’s contemplating it. He’s not quiet for what feels like long, but it’s enough time to make the unkind voice in Charlie’s head begin to make Charlie doubt himself.

         What a stupid suggestion, the voice chastises him, he wants to go somewhere private, and you offer a place in public? Are you an idiot?

         Charlie looks away from Nick for a moment and down to this lap. The voice in his head is always so cruel. And it always sounds just like Ben. It doesn’t make an appearance as often as it used to, but as Geoff always tells Charlie during their sessions – it might never go away. When he’s feeling nervous, he knows it’s more likely that the voice will return to spew its venom like it is right now. It makes Charlie want to curl in on himself, to tell Nick to forget he even mentioned it. He’s about to do just that, when he hears Nick speak next to him.

         “Alright,” Nick says.

         Charlie’s head snaps to look over at Nick, who is offering Charlie the smallest of smiles. Lop-sided. Sweet. Kind. Inviting. Charlie’s not sure who it’s supposed to soothe – Charlie or himself. And just like that, Charlie is reminded that he’s not the only nervous one of the two. In fact, he’s probably not the most nervous one out of the two at all.

         “Okay,” Charlie breathes, “um, I don’t have a car here though. So, we’d have to Uber if you’re also all right with that.”

         “I can drive us,” Nick offers easily, “if you’re okay with that, obviously.”

         The way they check in with one another, testing out each other’s levels of comfort, makes something in Charlie’s heart swell. It’s not something that Charlie is used to. But it’s something he can see himself getting used to.

         He can’t help but smile at Nick, “yeah, I’m okay with that,” he thinks he’d always be very okay with sharing any space with Nick, “thanks for offering.”

         “Yeah, of course,” Nick smiles.

         Neither of them makes to stand or to get going right away. They stay sat side by side, looking at one another with small smiles on their lips. Smiles that feel reserved for no one other than each other. There’s an understanding between them Charlie’s never felt between himself and anyone else. There’s just something about the way their eyes meet. Like the ocean meeting the Earth at the shorelines.

Even though Charlie should make to stand, looking at Nick Nelson is not something Charlie ever thinks he could tire of. It feels like staring at your favorite piece of art. You never get bored of looking at it, even if nothing about the piece ever really changes the longer or harder you stare. But you don’t need it to change. In fact, you hope it never does. Because it’s so beautiful in so many ways and it feels comforting and familiar. You can always find something new to fall in love with even if there’s nothing actually new about it at all.

Charlie could do it all night. Sit on the library floor, Nick’s faces inches from his. He could count all the specks of gold in those eyes of him and be content doing so.

But then Nick breaks the contact.

“Let’s get going then,” he exhales as he starts to stand, “I don’t want to keep you out too late.”

Charlie wants to tell him he shouldn’t be worried about that. Because it’s the last worry on Charlie’s mind. Charlie would never mind staying up late with Nick. He’d never mind spending any amount of time with Nick. It could be twenty-seconds or twenty-years, and Charlie would cherish every single moment. But of course he doesn’t say any of that. Instead, he nods like there’s any validity to Nick’s words and starts grabbing his things.

He closes the book he borrowed off the shelf first and then his notebook where he’d been doing some scribbling. He grabs his pen and places it on the spine of his notebook before he’s about to stand. When he looks up, he sees a familiar hand reaching out to him. Charlie is aware that he doesn’t need Nick’s help to get to his feet, but he’s also aware that he’d take any chance he could get at touching him. Sometimes there are things in life you don’t necessarily need, but that could never outweigh the sheer amount of want you have for it anyway. Nick’s touch is one of those things.

He’s been thinking about how it feels to be touched by Nick, how it feels to touch Nick, since it happened for the first time last night. He doesn’t think he could erase it from his memories, from his synapsis, if he even cared to try.

When Nick first gently placed his hands over Charlie’s on his chest, Charlie’s entire body felt like it had been woken up by the contact. Like, unbeknownst to him, his body had been stuck in a deep slumber before then. All his nerve endings came to life, being shocked into full consciousness by something electric and strong and impossible to deny the existence of. The blood in his veins felt pumped with something new, something hard for Charlie to put a name to. And then, when Charlie didn’t think it could get any better or any more intense, Nick had hugged him. At first, it had caught Charlie completely off guard. He hadn’t expected Nick, who had seemed so careful not to touch him before, to full on wrap his arms around him. But once he did, Charlie felt like he’d been painted an entirely new color. As their bodies collided and Nick’s arms enveloped Charlie into a tight embrace, Charlie felt the strokes of Nick’s paint brush all over his skin.

Charlie’s been touched far more intimately before. Yet, no one else’s touch has ever made Charlie feel the way Nick’s does. No one else’s touch could compare to how it feels to be touched by Nick.

Charlie takes Nick’s hand without a smidge of hesitation.  

The feeling that comes over him once his hand is placed in Nick’s is instant. It’s the exact same one that came over him the night before, but it feels even more intense now that he’s fully sober. He feels awake and alive in a way he didn’t think was possible. Their contact lasts seconds, but the sensation of it lingers even when Charlie’s to his feet and Nick pulls his hand back.

“Thanks,” Charlie says meeting Nick’s eye and wondering whether in them he can tell whether Nick feels even a fraction of what he does when they touch. But Nick’s eyes hold up walls Charlie’s not tall enough to climb over. He’s still so guarded, even when he’s offered to let Charlie in.

“Anytime,” Nick says, and then he looks away and clears his throat, “follow me, I guess?”

Charlie would follow Nick anywhere.

Tonight, he follows Nick out of the campus library and across the courtyard to a garage Charlie’s never been to. They walk side by side, in mostly silence. Their footsteps in perfect synch with one another. Each step they take is the only noise that can be heard between them. As they walk, Charlie tries to subtly sneak glances Nick’s way to gauge how Nick is holding up. Nick’s gaze is stuck to the ground, but even when Charlie can barely catch a glimpse of the look in his eyes, he could tell Nick is going through some sort of inner turmoil. His thoughts are probably running rampant, weighing him down as they hit him from every direction. Charlie understands the feeling of having your own thoughts, the own voice in your head, feel like poison. A poison that lives in you that is so hard to get rid of.

He wants to say something to pull Nick away from that poison. But Charlie’s not too good at this. He’s not very good at being comforting. Throughout his life, he’s the one who’s needed the comforting. To be on the other side of it is as new to him as he’s sure this whole thing is to Nick.

They make it to the garage in what feels like minutes. They take the stairs to the second floor and then Nick is fishing his keys out of the pockets of his jacket and Charlie sees a car unlock in front of them. It’s a four door BMW that looks far more expensive than anything Charlie could ever afford to drive in his life. It looks freshly washed as it’s all white paint shines underneath the parking garage’s fluorescent lights. It shouldn’t surprise Charlie that Nick doesn’t only have a car, but it’s a pretty luxurious one. He’s googled the Nelson name once or twice. He knows how well-off Nick’s family is. Far more well-off that Charlie’s own.

“Your car is really nice,” Charlie compliments him.

“It was a gift from my dad last semester,” Nick says, a heavy tone to his words, , “for making it to the championship.”

“Nice,” Charlie says, trying to his best to sound sincere. He does mean it sincerely and doesn’t want Nick to think otherwise.

He feels Nick shrug next to him “I would have preferred he’d stuck around even after we lost more than I appreciated the car.”

Charlie suddenly feels like a tool. It isn’t like him to misread a situation so greatly.

“I’m sorry,” he quickly apologizes.

When he looks over at Nick, Nick has his eyebrows pinched.

“What?” before Charlie can explain, Nick shakes his head, “No, Charlie, you – don’t apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong. Sorry if I came off passive aggressive. Wasn’t towards you.”

The softness in Nick’s tone directed towards Charlie is completely contradictory to the harsh tone he had when speaking to about his dad. It makes Charlie feel less guilty for not having caught on so easily to Nick’s sour mood at the mention of his dad.

“Plus, you’re not wrong. It is a nice car.”

Before Charlie can respond, Nick comes around the passenger side and opens Charlie’s door for him. Charlie can’t help but slightly trip over his own feet, his step stuttering at Nick’s gesture. It’s a chivalrous act of kindness Charlie’s not used to being on the receiving end of. Even Daniel, who’d been very nice to Charlie as he’d actively pursued him, had never been so gentlemanly to open car doors for him. Suddenly, Charlie is left wondering whether he needs to up his own standards, or Nick is something else altogether. Something special.

There’s a chance both are true.

Charlie ducks his head, a sudden feeling of shyness coming over him as he climbs into Nick’s car, “thank you.”

“It’s no problem,” Nick assures him.

Charlie takes in the interior of Nick’s car once Nick has shut the door and given him a few seconds to himself. The interior is almost as nice as the exterior, with all gray leather seats that still have that new-car smell to them. The rest of Nick’s scar smells like a mixture of something floral and citrusy. It’s one of the cleanest cars Charlie’s ever been in, and Charlie isn’t sure whether that’s attributed to Nick’s own cleanliness or how little he uses his own car.

He quits looking around and faces forward when he hears Nick’s door open, and Nick enter the car.

Nick settles into his seat, taking his phone out from the front pocket of his jeans, “do you know the name of the pub?” he asks, “so I can put it in the GPS. Unless, you know it well enough to just give me directions.”

Charlie could probably give Nick directions if he tried hard enough. But right now, all his senses feel flooded with Nick, Nick, Nick. The confinement of their space is new to them. They’ve never been so close, in such a tight space. It makes Charlie’s senses focus on all things Nick. The smell of him. The feel of him. The sound of his voice. It makes his brain fuzzy, and unable to focus on anything else.

“I don’t think I could get us there without some guidance,” Charlie says honestly, still look forward, “sorry.”

“No need to apologize for that, Charlie,” Nick huffs out a small laugh next to him, “Know the name then?”

“Yeah,” Charlie says, ignoring the way it makes him feel when Nick corrects him for apologizing out of turn, “it’s um, ‘Gary’s pub.’ It shouldn’t be more than like a ten-minute drive.”

Nick hums, and Charlie glances Nick’s way momentarily to see him typing away at his phone. He looks away again, looking down to his jeans and picking at the fabric just to occupy his hands with something.

“This look right?” Nick asks next to Charlie.

Charlie looks over to him, and his eyes immediately go to Nick’s face and not the phone screen he’s holding out to him. It’s like Charlie can’t help himself. He can’t help the way his body reacts to him. The way all of him feels propelled forward to Nick. The want is insatiable, driving him forward even when Charlie can’t see the road ahead of him. Even when he should be driving with caution, it wills him to drive recklessly down a road he’s unfamiliar with.

He doesn’t even realize he’s staring until Nick looks at him and Charlie quickly looks down to the phone, feeling flustered at being caught.

He can barely make out on the screen, his brain screaming at him. The beat of his heart thumping with so much force that it rings loudly in his ears.

“Yup,” Charlie says, trying to sound nonchalant though it’s so far from how he feels, “that looks right.”

Nick doesn’t say anything right away, but Charlie can feel him staring at him. Charlie’s too scared to look back at him, afraid that all of his emotions will be on display for Nick. That he’ll see just how much Charlie feels for him, and it’ll overwhelm him.

“Charlie,” Nick says softly, “are you okay? If you’re uncomfortable with this—”

Charlie’s head snaps to look at Nick, “no, no I’m not. I promise. I’m just,” completely obsessed with you it seems, “I don’t want to do anything that will make you feel uncomfortable. I’m – I feel very lucky that you even want to talk to me about this, Nick.”

Nick’s eyes go all over Charlie’s face, in a way that feels like he’s trying to hold him to his memory. Like he’s trying to capture snapshots of Charlie in his mind well enough to revisit whenever Charlie isn’t around. Charlie feels self-conscious under his gaze, but he doesn’t look away for the fear that Nick will still think Charlie is uncomfortable being this close to him. Doing this with him. It couldn’t be further from the truth. And maybe he also wants to make sure Nick does get a good look at him. Could draw Charlie from memory if he very well wanted to.

“I feel very lucky that you’re willing to listen,” Nick whispers.

Charlie has to fight off every nerve ending that is begging him to get closer to Nick. That’s screaming at him to inch a little more forward. To diminish the space between them more and more until there isn’t any space left. To get as physically close to Nick as possible, crossing a line that neither of them will ever be able to come back from. And as much as Charlie wishes he could just give in, he fights with every logical thought he is capable of creating within his own headspace. Because being a shoulder for Nick to lean on, someone for Nick to confide in, is more important than anything else Charlie wants to be for him. To him.

So, instead of leaning in, Charlie leans back, “let’s do this then.”

He buckles up and moments later, Nick follows suit. Nick turns his car on, the engine revving to life. Nick’s car stereo system turns on along with his engine, and through his speakers, a familiar song starts to play. Serenading them at an optimal volume, is Luke Combs singing ‘Fast Car.’ Charlie instantly looks over a Nick, a smile he is unable to bite back curling his lips. Nick’s cheeks go impossibly pink. Even under the dim lighting, Charlie can tell how flushed he is.

“Well,” he clears his throat and pauses the song, though it’s too late for him to play it off, “that’s embarrassing.”

Charlie can’t help but giggle, “it’s not. Not at all. I can’t blame you. It is a great song.”

Nick gives him a shy smile, “If you’re going to insist I play it, then I have to.”  

Before Charlie can protest that’s certainly not what he said, Nick is hitting play on his phone again. Charlie laughs and shakes his head but doesn’t complain because he does quite like the song. He enjoys Luke Comb’s voice filling the car up with the same song Daisy sang to them the night before. As Nick pulls out of their campus, Charlie absent mindedly drums his fingers on his thighs, following the same beat as if he were playing his actual drum set.

He starts miming the words too. Charlie’s not much of a singer, but he’s always had a thing for lyrics and make it a point to learn all of the ones of his most liked songs. Charlie notices the volume on Nick’s stereo turn down a notch or two midway through the song. It’s a subtle difference, but one that Charlie catches.

“I think I like Daisy’s voice on the song more than I do his,” Nick says next to him.

Charlie tears his ears from staring out his window, nothing as great to look out to  on the road as the person sitting right next to him. He takes in the way the city lights dance around Nick’s features, feeling more comfortable openly admiring him with Nick focused on the road ahead of them, facing away from him.

“Well, the original is actually sung by a woman,” Charlie tells him, “I think a woman’s voice may just be more naturally suited for the song.”

“Maybe,” Nick says, “or maybe I just don’t enjoy the country twang as much as I just do the beat of the song. And the lyrics.”

Charlie nods in agreement before remembering Nick isn’t looking at him.

“Yeah,” Charlie says, “when I first heard it, I didn’t care too much for his voice either. But I liked the instrumental and the lyrics a lot.”

“Was it easy to learn to play on the drums?’ Nick asks him.

Charlie contemplates his questions before answering, “I think so. It wasn’t very hard. Definitely not the hardest song I’ve had to learn to play,” he admits, “it was only kind of difficult to learn because their drummer called out of the performance at the literal last minute. Like, only two hours before their performance. So, that’s about as much time as I had to learn it.”

Nick glances quickly over at Charlie before returning his attention to the road, “wait, seriously?”

“Yeah,” Charlie laughs at himself, “normally, out of fear of being absolutely shit, I wouldn’t have tried to learn a song in that short amount of time. But Jess was in a panic, and I just wanted to be a good friend.”

Nick repeats the same motion again – looking at Charlie so quickly before returning his eyes to the road that Charlie would miss it if he weren’t paying such close attention to him – “You had only learned the song on the drums a couple of hours before the performance?”

“Yeah,” Charlie confirms.

“Wow,” Nick’s hands grip his steering wheel, his knuckles going a bit white, “you’re so – that’s so,” he breathes out, “impressive. Honestly, that’s so fucking impressive.”

Charlie feels the familiar feeling of heat return to his cheeks, and he looks out to the boring road again to try and get it to disappear almost as quickly as it came to be.  

“It’s really nothing,” Charlie says, his voice trembling only slightly. He hopes Luke Combs is still playing loud enough to conceal it.

“Like hell it’s nothing. You played so good, Charlie,” Nick compliments him, and Charlie’s face becomes even more red than it was just moments prior. Something he hadn’t considered a possibility. And despite Nick not being able to see his face, he continues, like he’s enjoying the response Charlie’s giving him at his own words, “I don’t think anyone that heard you play would’ve guessed you only learned the song a couple hours before the performance.”

Charlie shrugs, trying to stop the beating of his heart that feels consumed by Nick and all his sweet words, “anyone who’s been playing drums as long as I have could’ve done it just as well. Trust me.”

“I do,” Nick says, almost automatically, “but not with this. I don’t think just anyone could’ve done what you did yesterday with only a couple of hours of practice.”

Charlie giggles, unable to help himself with the fit of nerves overcoming him.

 He wants to tell Nick he’s not as deserving as the praise he’s giving him as Nick seems to think he is. But he doesn’t, only for the mere fact that he has a strong suspicion that they can just continue going like this. Around and around in circles, like they’re in a merry go-round. With Charlie telling Nick he’s not as impressive as Nick keeps telling him he is, and Nick telling Charlie that he definitely is. And it isn’t that Charlie thinks he could ever get tired of Nick complimenting him, but he doesn’t want his face to be the shade of a tomato by the time they get off the car. And by the streets they’re driving by, Charlie can tell that time is fast approaching.  

Only minutes later, they come up to the same street the pub is located.

Charlie points out his window, “you can park anywhere on this side of the street. The place is on our right.”

Nick does as Charlie instructs, paralleling parking on the opposite side of the street where the pub is. It’s a fairly easy task, as there’s barely any cars parked on the street. Charlie is thankful for that, feeling like he made the right choice suggesting the pub for them to come and have this private conversation.  

Nick shuts off his car, and the silence that overtakes them is still. The anticipation of the conversation they’re about to have can be felt all around them as they unclick their seatbelts. Nick steps out first and Charlie follows suit, taking a deep breath in and exhaling right as he gets down from the car. He knows that Nick has far more reasons to be nervous, but Charlie stills feel wrecked with nerves too. Twenty-four hours ago, he didn’t imagine being in this scenario with Nick. He didn’t imagine being the person Nick went to, to have this conversation. At the campus bar, Nick had barely spoken to Charlie. He’d opted to spend most of his time with Amy, and Amy had seemed to reciprocate that interest. It had bugged Charlie more than it ought to have, considering all the attention Manny was dousing him in. But Charlie couldn’t help it. And he couldn’t help being short with Amy today either. It would have been less surprising to Charlie if Nick had decided it was Amy he wanted to be having this conversation with. But, no. it’s Charlie. He picked Charlie.

And now they’re here, walking down the street to the pub where they’re about to talk about something that is weighing heavily on Nick’s mind. Charlie is about to be able to relieve some of that weight from him, and all he’s hoping for is that he does it in a way that Nick is deserving of.

         “Where is this place?” Nick asks, looking around as they cross the street. Charlie can’t blame him for being unable to spot the place. He’d almost missed it too that one time he came with Amy and Jess.

         “Right over there,” Charlie points over to a wall that doesn’t look like it holds a whole pub inside of it, “it’s easy to miss.”  

         “No kidding. How’d you find this place?”

         “One night we’d finished at the gay bar and Amy was craving pizza. There was nothing open at the time serving pizza in the area that we knew of, but you know Amy,” Charlie tries not to let any sort of bitterness he might still feel towards his friend for the previous night seep through his words, “persistent. So, she googled and found this place. At first, we thought she’d lost her mind, but eventually we were able to actually find it.”

         Nick laughs beside him, “Amy’s something else.”

         Charlie’s stomach twists, “yeah.”

         He leads the way once they’re on the other side of the street and a few feet away. Remembering exactly where the pub is the closer they get to it, Charlie reaches for the pub’s door first. There’s no title at the front of the establishment, and Nick quirks an eyebrow up in confusion. Charlie doesn’t answer him with words, and instead holds the door open for Nick to walk through. Nick, without asking questions, does. Charlie walks in after him.

         He’s hit with the smell of overcooked pizza, cheap cocktails, and brick walls that are definitely going old instantly once they step inside. Despite how much of a makeover the place is in need of, the atmosphere is cozy. The warm globe lights give it a soft glow and the creaky wooden floors and rusted booths give it character. Something about the pub feels like a home away from home. There’s barely anyone sitting around the tables or bar top, giving that it’s a random Wednesday night and the place is probably only known by locals who’ve been visiting the pub their whole lives, or strangers that happen to stumble upon it by chance.

         Suddenly, Charlie feels proud for having thought of it as the place for them to talk. It feels like the right place to have the sort of talk they’re about to have.

         “Do we seat ourselves?” Nick asks him, turning his head slightly to look over at him.

         “Yeah,” Charlie steps in front of him, “follow me.”

         He leads them to a booth near the very back of the pub. Not that the pub is very big to begin with anyway. The front, the middle, and the back are only a couple of feet apart. But the booth at the very end provides enough distance between Nick and Charlie and the other patrons that sit at the bar drinking what Charlie can make out as Whiskey Neats.

         Charlie takes a seat on one side of the booth and Nick takes one across from him.

         Nick folds his hands on top of the table and Charlie’s keeps his on his lap underneath it. They don’t immediately start speaking. And it’s obvious that they’re also avoiding direct eye contact. Nick looks around the pub like there’s anything interesting in it to look at, and Charlie does the same because he doesn’t want to creepily stare at the only person in the room that has his attention. They let whatever song is playing on the speaker’s that Charlie is sure neither of them knows, lowly hum in the background as they continue with their dance of avoidance. The thing is, Charlie’s not sure how to get them to start having the conversation they came here to have. If he’s entirely honest with himself, he’s not even sure what that conversation is. He’d agreed to going somewhere private with Nick to talk without even knowing exactly what he wants to talk about. He has an idea, of course, but until Nick starts the conversation, he can’t be too sure.

         “You weren’t kidding about this place being a hole in the wall,” Nick eventually says, still not meeting Charlie’s eyes.

         “Yeah,” Charlie says, watching Nick’s side profile.

 He can feel the nerves radiation off Nick, similar to the ones stirring inside himself. He’s not sure how to soothe it, how to make things feel less tense. But he thinks alcohol is always good at loosening people up. He doesn’t want them to consume enough to feel the way they did last night. Just enough to ease some of the obvious tension that is looming over them.

         “Do you want a drink?” Charlie offers.

         Nick turns his head, and they meet eyes for the first time since they got out of the car.

         “Uh, yeah. Sure,” Nick answers.

         Charlie nods, “okay, what do you want?”

         “Just a beer,” Nick says, “anything they have on draft is fine.”

         “Okay,” Charlie makes his way out of the booth and then Nick is reaching inside his pockets to hand him money.

         Charlie shakes his head, “on me.”

         “Charlie,” Nick says in a pleading tone.

         But Charlie shakes his head again. Just because Nick is obviously better off than Charlie when it comes to money doesn’t mean he can’t buy them a drink on his own tab. He walks away, not allowing them to go back and forth on it.

         The same woman who’d served them the night they’d come in with a drunk and hungry Amy is the same woman behind the bar. She’s looks to be somewhere in her late fifties, with a head full of gray hair and wrinkles by her eyes that show off her age. She’s neither kind or unkind, and simply greets Charlie with a nod of her head and then quickly asks him what he’d like to order. He gets Nick whatever beer is on draft – he’s sure she gives him something German – and orders a rum and coke for himself. It’s the safest bet of a drink for a pub like this. She fixes their drinks up fairly quickly and asks Charlie if he’s going to want menus for food. Charlie’s not hungry, never feeling the urge to eat whenever he’s on edge or a ball of nerves like he is now. But he takes a menu for Nick just in case he’s in the mood for mediocre pizza that has the crust way overdone and borderline burnt. He pays, grabs the menu, and heads back to their booth.

         He hasn’t even consumed the alcohol yet but he already feels some of the tension tightly coiling his insides dissipate.

         Nick is on looking down on his phone when Charlie returns. Charlie places the menu down at the edge of their table first, and hands Nick his drink after. Nick quickly empties his hands to grab the drink from Charlie, putting his phone down. Charlie puts his drink down on his side of the booth before sliding into it.

         Once he’s sat directly in front of Nick again, he looks at him.

         Nick smiles, though it’s small, “thanks for the beer.”

         “No problem,” Charlie smiles back.

         Nick curls his hands around the beer glass, and Charlie’s eyes can’t help but follow the movement. Something about the way his hand looks around a cold glass makes Charlie wonder what it would feel like curling around his neck. Adding just the right amount of pressure.

         He’s snapped out of his thoughts when Nick says, “I could’ve paid, you know. I’m the one who dragged us out here.”

         Charlie shuts the part of his brain down that seems to be winding up into dangerous territory. It has horrible timing too. He metaphorically shakes the unwarranted, dirty thoughts from his mind. Willing his mind to stay focused on what they’re here for.

         “Did you?” Charlie cocks his head to the side, “I remember being the one to suggest it.”

         Nick gives him another small smile, “technically yes, but I’m the one who asked to go somewhere private to talk.”

         “And I’m the one who agreed so,” Charlie lifts his glass to Nick, “cheers.”

         Nick doesn’t fight him on it, and instead raises his glass to clink against Charlie’s, “cheers.”

         They both take a drink, and Charlie has to look away as Nick swallows to stop his mind from continuing to go down that rabbit hole. He’s not sure why it’s suddenly so focused on how physically attracted he is to Nick, but it’s like a switch has suddenly turned on that he can seem to turn off.

         He returns his gaze to Nick only once he thinks it’s safe for him to without his mind continuing to conjure up dirty thoughts. It makes it easier to keep those thoughts at bay when Nick isn’t even looking back at him. He’s looking out to the rest of the pub again, and Charlie knows he’s still finding it hard to talk about what he asked Charlie here for.

         Silence overtakes them again. It’s not lost on Charlie that they’re finding it difficult to breech the conversation. Nick seems to really be struggling. Charlie tries to help them, though he’s not sure how to approach it. He gives it his best shot anyway.

         “So,” Charlie speaks, “do you feel like this is private enough to talk?”

         Nick turns his face towards Charlie, his eyes finding Charlie’s instantly. Like magnets, their gazes can never stay away from one another for too long.

         He snorts a small laugh, “given that it’s just us and maybe like two other people who certainly don’t know who either of us are, I’d say yes.”

         “Good,” Charlie nods, and then takes another sip because he’s not sure he’s doing a good job at getting Nick to speak despite giving it his best efforts.

         Nick takes another sip too, before setting his glass back down. He looks down and plays with the condensation that’s pooling around the end of his glass with his index finger. Immediately, Charlie’s mind conjures up an imagine of that same index finger tracing Charlie’s lips, opening his mouth and sticking –

         Jesus, can you stop? Charlie yells at his own brain. This is more important than that. So, can you stop being so fucking horny for two seconds?

         “—being awkward, I’m just finding it hard to figure out how to, like. Start.”

         Charlie’s gaze flicks up, unaware of when he it went downwards to follow the movement of Nick’s index finger.

         Oh great, now I’ve missed what he’s said, Charlie chastises himself and his sex-fogged brain. He uses his brain power that isn’t focused on what it might be like to have sex with Nick Nelson to piece together what Nick’s just said. He concludes that he’s apologizing for how tense this whole thing feels, despite it having been his idea to begin with.

         “It’s okay. I promise,” Charlie reassures him, keeping his hands on his lap underneath the table to avoid the urge to reach out and grab one of Nick’s, “I know I’m not being very helpful, either. Sorry about that. I just don’t want you to feel, you know, pressured or anything.”

         “No, you’re,” Nick sighs, “you’re fine. And I don’t feel pressured. I want to do this it’s why I asked, I’m just,” he exhales again, like if releasing all the air inside himself will make room for the words to escape his mouth, “I find this so difficult. I haven’t – I haven’t talked about this with anyone before.”

         Charlie sits up a bit straighter, wanting to give Nick his full unaltered attention, “by ‘this’ do you mean… your sexuality or,” Charlie swallows, willing himself to be brave. Come on, Charlie. Be brave for once. He deserves it, “everything else?” Charlie finishes.

         Nick looks down to his glass again, “all of it, honestly,” his voice is barely above a whisper, but Charlie is paying such close attention he doesn’t miss a single word, “my sexuality – maybe I’ve talked about it with one other person.”

         Charlie’s sure he knows who that other person is. He’s sure that it’s the same person who was lucky enough to get to know Nick in a way no one else has before. He has to be referring to the boy in the video that Charlie’s never actually seen and only ever heard about. He feels a sudden pang of jealousy in the pit of his stomach in the shape of the stranger. He instantly feels wrong for feeling that way. He can’t be angry with someone he doesn’t know for having Nick in a way he dreams of having him. Especially when it probably brought them both a lot of pain.

         “Take your time,” Charlie tells Nick, “I know this can be hard to talk about.”

         Nick’s eyes gaze back up to Charlie, “Charlie, I want you to understand something,” Nick says, “I’m not ashamed of my sexuality. I’m – I’ve known I’m,” he pauses, but it’s quick, barely putting a lull in their conversation, “bisexual for a long time. It didn’t freak me out for the reasons you probably think it did. Or for the reasons it probably does other people.”

         The confirmation of Nick’s sexuality doesn’t stun or excite Charlie the way he thought it would. A few weeks ago, Charlie might’ve reacted entirely differently to the news. Today, he thinks it’s such a small part of Nick’s story, and he’s more intrigued to know the larger, more glaring parts.

         “Have you known that about yourself for a long time?” Charlie asks, genuinely curious as to understand Nick better. To know his story more in depth.

         “Not that long. I’d say I realized I figured it out in year 10,” Nick answers, “there was this transfer student from America that started on the rugby team. I’d never really felt that way about a guy before then. But once he came around, I knew there was something different in the way I felt about him. I didn’t only think he was very fit, I found myself wanting to spend all my free time with him. I knew what a crush felt like. I’d fancied loads of girls during primary and secondary school. I knew the only difference there was that he was a guy.”

         “And that realization didn’t freak you out in the slightest?”

         “No,” Nick answers genuinely, “well, not because it meant I  also liked men in that way. The only reason it made me feel uneasy was because I knew that even though I did like men like that, I could never do anything about it.”

         Charlie knows why Nick felt, and likely still feels, that way instantly.

         “Because of rugby.”

         “Because of everything that it means to be Stephane Nelson’s son,” Nick corrects him.

          At Nick’s admittance, Charlie feels hurt for Nick. And he looks back at him, he can see the hurt Nick is carrying around with him too. Heavy, like the burden that being his father’s son has thrown on him. Charlie doesn’t know how he’s missed it before. During every glance they’ve ever exchanged, during every time he’s so unabashedly stared at him. Maybe Charlie was distracted by his beauty, or maybe Nick’s armor is too strong around to have let Charlie see past it. But now that Nick has allowed for cracks in his armor to appear, revealing bits of his true self to Charlie, Charlie can’t unsee it. Charlie can trace the lines of sadness surrounding Nick’s eyes. He can see the slump of his shoulders with the weight of whatever is holding him down – expectations, confusion, a mixture of both. He can see the pieces of Nick falling off, the seams breaking apart no matter how much he’s trying to keep them from doing so.

         “’Expectations are premeditated resentments,” Charlie says. Nick looks at him like he’s not sure where the blurb came from. Charlie quickly explains himself, “it’s um, it’s just a quote from Neil Strauss about how, well – when expectations are placed on us, a lot of the time we just grow resentment for whoever placed them there. Because expectations placed on us by other people are usually hard to meet.”

         As the words leave his mouth, Charlie feels silly and foolish. He mostly spoke without thinking. It was just the first thing that came to mind as he stared back at Nick, noticing for the first time how clearly his dad’s expectations of Nick have affected him. But if Nick’s response, or lack thereof, is anything to go by, he doesn’t think he’s said the right thing. He can feel the unkind voice in his head beginning to gear up to berate him once more, make him feel small.

         But then Nick nods like he agrees with Charlie, “something like that. Sorry, it’s just. You’re just – you’re a little too smart for me, I think.”

         Nick gives him a small, self-deprecating laugh and the mean voice inside Charlie’s own mind gets silenced once more by the kind words Nick’s just spoken to him.  

         Charlie shakes his head, “not at all. I can see why that caught you off guard. I kind of just blurted it out. It was the first thing that came to mind, but I’m sorry—”

         “Charlie, don’t apologize for being smarter than me,” Nick cuts him off, “which you are. I’ve known that since the moment we met. Or did you forget how that went?”

         Charlie doesn’t think he could ever forget how they met. But instead of admitting that out loud to Nick, he looks away and takes another sip of his drink. He hopes the coolness of his drink can undercut how hot his cheeks feel. It’s like it’s an instant reaction he has at Nick’s word. Nick has such an easy effect on him. Embarrassingly easy.

         “Anyway,” Charlie says, trying to segway the conversation back to Nick. Because this is about Nick, not Charlie. And Charlie wants it to remain that way.

         “Anyway,” Nick echoes, “you’re right about expectations set by others being hard to meet. I’ve always felt that way, but it doesn’t mean those expectations don’t exist. Or that I haven’t always tried to meet them. Being queer has never had any place in those expectations. So, I’ve always sort of ignored it. Pretended it doesn’t exist.”

         “But it does exist,” Charlie says, “and it’s an important part of you.”

         Nick’s voice drops an octave as he stares into his glass again, “I know.”

         Charlie allows Nick a moment to gather his thoughts, which Charlie can tell he’s doing. They both take another sip of their respective drinks, the alcohol working their way into both of their systems. He hopes it gives them both the confidence they need to continue this conversation. To get something out of it too.

         “It was easier in secondary school to ignore. No one was openly queer in my school, so the chances of being able to explore that side of myself were none,” Nick explains, his gaze still turned down to his glass, his index finger trailing the drops of liquid forming outside of his glass, “but then I came to Leeds. And well, you’ve seen how it is here. There’s a lot of different kinds of people. It made it hard to push to the side.”

         “I’m sure it was never easy,” Charlie says, understanding how even when he didn’t want anyone in his all-boys school to know of his own sexuality, hiding it never made him feel better.  

         “No, but it felt more doable before Leeds,” Nick says, “my freshmen year was probably the easiest here. I was so focused on rugby I didn’t have that much time worry about anything else. Not even all the new temptation surrounding me. Because University is where your skills matter the most. Scouts come out, take a serious interest in you for the pro leagues. My dad didn’t let me forget it that entire first year.”

         Charlie listens, hanging on every word Nick is saying. He feels like so many parts of Nick are slotting together, in a way that paints a much clearer picture for Charlie of who Nick is. Of what his story entails. He doesn’t interrupt, or ask questions, though he has so many. He lets Nick continue to speak uninterrupted, solving the puzzle and plugging in the pieces himself and his story as he goes.

         “Things kind of changed last year,” Nick says, and then he stops. Charlie gives Nick a necessary moment to himself. He knows the conversation they’re having isn’t an easy one for Nick to be having. He’s surprised it’s gone as smoothly as it has so far.

         Nick’s eyes meet Charlie’s again. He looks at him carefully, as a question he hasn’t dared speak dances behind his eyes. It’s on the tip of Nick’s tongue, and Charlie waits for his tongue to release them.

         When he does, Charlie is only slightly surprised by what his words are.

 “Have you seen the video?”

         Nick jaw clenches when, and Charlie doesn’t miss the way the rising and falling of his chest becomes more obvious and picks up speed.

         Charlie quickly tries to put his mind at ease, “I haven’t. I – that’s a huge invasion of privacy, Nick. I truly wouldn’t want to even if I was given the opportunity to. Which I haven’t, by the way.”

         If he hoped to calm Nick down with his response, he doesn’t seem to accomplish that. Nick still looks like he’s on the edge of a cliff, scared that one wrong move will send him tumbling down.

         “But you know about it?”

         Charlie knows there’s no point in denying that he does.

         “I vaguely heard about it once,” Charlie answers earnestly, “but because I asked about you, not because it just casually came up in conversation.”

         Charlie sees the flicker of surprise come across Nick’s face at Charlie’s confession. Instantly, Charlie wishes he could stuff the words back into this mouth. The problem with words, however, is that once they’re spoken, they cannot be taken back. There’s no ‘delete’ or ‘undo’ button in real life, no matter how much in need of one you may be. That’s the main difference between writing down your words and speaking them out loud. It’s why Charlie has always preferred the former.

         Nick lifts a brow, the smallest hint of a smile lifting one corner of his mouth higher than the other, “you asked about me?”

         Charlie’s brain scrambles to come up with a decent explanation that won’t make him sound like he was pathetically pining after him.

         “Yeah, one time that I saw you out in the hallway and noticed we were neighbors. I've asked Amy about all our neighbors," Charlie says, coaxing his half-life with half-truths, “you’re not special.”

         He says the last bit jokingly, hoping it allows Nick to believe every one of Charlie’s words as complete truths. Luckily, it lands well, because Nick laughs at his words, not seemingly the least bit skeptical.

         Charlie joins in, the sound of Nick’s laughter instantly dissolving any worries he just had.

         “Wow, okay. Couldn’t have let me believe I was for just a second?”

         “No, sorry,” Charlie says, leaning into the banter, “can’t feed your ego.”

         “Oh, you think I’ve got an ego?”

         “Kind of inevitable when everyone on campus treats you like some sort of small-town celebrity.”

         “Mm,” Nick says, “they even invade my privacy like one too.”

         At the mention of the video once more, Charlie feels the mood shift again. Charlie allows them a moment to adjust to the change. Because as much as he enjoys laughing and goofing off with Nick, Nick didn’t ask him to hang out for a laugh and a drink. Nick asked him to speak because he probably has an undeniable urge to put out the fires that are burning him from the inside out. The fires that hold emotions that Nick feels like he’s suffocating in, unable to breathe in anything but the smoke. And if Charlie can be what puts out those fires for him, or an aid for Nick to do it himself, he wants to be able to do it effectively more than he’s ever wanted to be good at anything else.

         “I’m sorry that you got outted like that,” Charlie says sincerely, “it’s just a shitty thing to do to someone. You didn’t deserve it.”

         Nick takes another gulp of his beer before replying.

         “More than that, I didn’t expect it,” Nick scoffs, “kind of naïve, I guess.”

         “I don’t think so,” Charlie tells him, “It’s not the kind of thing most people see coming. It catches us by surprise when things like that happen.”

         Nick looks contemplative before he speaks, and Charlie wishes he could open his mind and peek through it. See all those thoughts Nick won’t say out loud.

         “I was naïve for thinking it could ever work,” Nick says, “although, I’m not sure I ever did think that. I think I just stopped resisting because well, he was --,” Nick stops himself. He looks at Charlie, an unsure look in his eyes as to whether he should continue. Charlie nods at him, silently encouraging him to do so. As little as Charlie wants to hear about Nick being in love with someone else, he knows it’s an important part of Nick’s story. And Charlie wants to know all of it. All of what Nick is willing to share.

         “We were just friends first. I ended up taking drama as an elective last term because I needed some sort of arts credit, and it seemed like the easiest. We got paired up in a class project and we just got along well from the start,” Nick says, both his hands now curled around his glass, “I was attracted to him right off the bat too, but as usual when it came to my attraction to guys, I tried not to let myself feed into it.”

         “What changed?” Charlie finds himself asking. Curiosity getting the better of his tongue.

         Nick doesn’t seem put off his question, and instead answers, “nothing,” he shrugs, then his shoulders sag, “everything? It wasn’t – we ended up going to one of Tara’s parties actually. He was a friend of a friend, and we somehow ended up there. I was drunk, and there was no one around that reminded me of what I was meant to be focused on. One thing led to another, and when we were alone, I kissed him.”

         Charlie can see it so clearly in his mind. A drunk Nick, feeling uninhibited by the effects of alcohol flowing through his bloodstream. Scratching an itch he had for years prior in a quiet moment when nothing was around to hold him back. Or remind him to hold himself back. A part of himself being revealed and being catered to for the first time ever. It must’ve felt so freeing.

Something in Charlie’s heart tugs at the memory that isn’t his.

         “I freaked out immediately once we stopped,” Nick laughs, but it sounds sad, “and ran out on him. I was sure he’d either out me to the whole campus or hate me.”

         “But neither of those things happened.”

         Nick shakes his head, “no. Instead, he found me on the field in the middle of the night the next day. I was trying to erase the moment, pretend it didn’t happen, by just throwing myself into rugby. Even if he hadn’t shown up, it wasn’t working.”

         Charlie’s mind conjures up an image of Nick on the rugby field at midnight, kicking the ball around, doing laps. Hating himself. And his person showing up at just the right time to break through that self-hatred.

         “He came, and to my surprise, he wasn’t upset or acting like he had some sort of leverage over me. Instead, he told me he was worried about me. Just wanted to make sure that I was okay.”

         Charlie feels that same pit in his stomach he felt earlier for the stranger. He knows it’s jealousy. He knows it’s because he wishes he was in the stranger’s place then, and even more so, now. He knows it’s irrational and unfair. He knows that isn’t going to stop him from feeling those emotions anyway.

         “That’s sweet.”

         “It was. He was. So, instead of shutting the whole thing down like he deserved me to because nothing good was ever going to come of it, I kissed him again.”

         Charlie can feel the guilt Nick feels and carries for the situation that plagued him and the stranger. His hands ache to touch him if only to take some of the misplaced guilt away.

         “Nick,” Charlie says, “what happened isn’t your fault.”

         “But it is,” Nick argues, “in a way, it is. Because I knew I could never give him a normal relationship, but I continued on with the charades anyway. I gave him halves, when he deserved so much more, because I wanted my cake and to eat it too. I took advantage of the fact that he was so understanding during all of it and didn’t protect him from the inevitable. Regardless of the video, it was never going to work out. And I knew that from day one and didn’t stop it anyway.”

         “Maybe you were hoping it could work out. Because it’s obvious you really care about him.”

         “I did, but it never changed the fact that I knew it couldn’t and wouldn’t ever work,” Nick says, and Charlie can hear the emotion in his voice, “and then the video happened. And not only was I proven right, but I was also selfish again. Instead of facing it with him, I hid away from it. I pretended it didn’t happen because I couldn’t face the backlash and my dad pretty much told me to make it out like it was unimportant. Like it didn’t matter.”

         Charlie feels a strong emotion come over him for another stranger. He feels anger towards Nick’s dad. For putting all the weight that he’s put on Nick. For being the cause of so much of Nick’s pain, for the slump of his shoulders, for look of sadness in those beautiful eyes of his. For not allowing his son to be who he is without shame.

         “And I did. I made it out like it was nothing when it was everything to me. I left him there, to deal with all that shit on his own. And it was so much shit, Charlie. So much that he ended up leaving school because of it and I – I did nothing to stop it. Even to this day I can’t face it,” Nick’s voice breaks, and Charlie sees the floodgates of emotions open as tears streak fall down Nick’s face like waterfalls, “you have no idea how much disassociating I’ve had to do in this fucked up head of mine to even have this conversation. I’m a fucking coward. I’m a fucking—”

         Charlie can’t take it anymore. He can’t take watching Nick rip himself to shreds in front of Charlie.

         His hand reaches out across the table, taking Nick’s in his own. The contact sends an instant zip of electricity up and down his spine, but he ignores it as he tries to calm the storm inside Nick’s mind with a single touch. Hoping that with one touch he can relieve him of some of his pain, of some of his own self-loathing that Charlie believes is entirely misplaced.

         “Stop,” Charlie’s voice cracks, “please don’t talk about yourself like that.”

         Nick’s eyes shine with tears as he stares back at him. His hand folds into Charlie’s and whether it’s a conscious or subconscious movement, Charlie can’t be sure.

         “Nick, what you dealt with – what you’re dealing with, is a lot. You repressed a part of yourself for so long to appease other people. Do you know how much additional weight that had to have placed on you? Is still placing on you? Maybe you didn’t handle everything as well as you could’ve. Or how you would’ve wanted to in an ideal world. But you weren’t the villain in the situation, you were a victim too. You did the best you could, even if you don’t feel that it was good enough. And the fact that you asked me here to have this conversation means that you’re trying to do better.”

         Nick’s cheeks are stained with his own tears as he stares back at Charlie. They’re still falling from his eyes like rain falling from Kent’s February skies, and Charlie wants to make it stop. He wants Nick’s eyes to shine from happiness, and not because they’re tear ridden with pain and hurt. But he lets Nick cry through it anyway, to release the emotions he’s sure he’s been bottling up for far longer than he should’ve been.

         Nick’s eyes search Charlie’s like he’s hoping to find answers in them to questions he’s not yet asked, “How do I become better? How do I get rid of this – of this feeling inside of me that makes me feel like I’m barely even a real person?”

         “You stop just existing, and you start living.”

         Charlie knows he offers the advice like it’s easy. He knows it isn’t. He’s living proof that it’s much easier said than done. But once Charlie took back control of his own life, that was when he started to realize that doing just enough to hold yourself barely together and get by wasn’t enough in the slightest. That there was, is, so much more to life than just coasting by. It’s what prompted him to leave Kent, in search for that something more. And though it’s presented its own challenges, Charlie’s feeling the most alive he’s ever felt. He wants the same thing for Nick. He thinks he deserves that much.

         “How do I do that?” Nick asks, his voice hoarse and sullen.

         “It’s not easy, but it starts with you,” Charlie answers, “it starts by you not allowing yourself to hold back parts of yourself. Not pretending that they don’t exist or that they don’t matter.”

         “Charlie,” Nick breathes in through his mouth, and lets it go the same, “I don’t know if I can do that. All the things that held me back before still exist. I still have rugby, and my dad and –”

         “Like I said, it isn’t easy. There will always be reasons as to why it’s easier to continue as you are. But none of those reasons are for you. And none of it is as important as yourself,” Charlie reminds him, “Nick, you’ll always feel like you do right now until you fully embrace who you are. Take it from someone who knows firsthand. I let myself be treated like shit by myself and others for a long time because I was hiding who I was. It just led to be being more unhappy. The more I hid away, the worse it all became until I felt like a shell of myself.”

         Nick looks at Charlie like he’s rivetted by his words,

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” Nick’s voice is soft, and his hand squeezes Charlie’s, “But Charlie, I can’t just – come out. I’m not trying to make excuses, but it’s just not that simple for me. Sports and queerness mix like oil and water.”

         “I understand it’s complicated,” Charlie says sincerely, “but, the good and bad news is that you kind of are out already. Unfortunately, someone did a shitty thing to you, but it did the hard part of letting people know a part of you that you’ve always found hard to express yourself.”

         “I’m not too sure it did. People don’t seem to care for that video or remember it.”

         “People remember it, Nick,” Charlie tells him, “They’re all ignoring it or writing it off as a one-off thing because nothing else has happened since then. But believe me when I tell you, people remember, and people wonder.”

         Nick looks slightly frightened by Charlie’s words, which wasn’t Charlie’s intention. But if the idea is to get Nick to feel more accepting of himself, more secure in his own skin, than Charlie thinks these are necessary growing pains. He won’t deny the truth to Nick. He’ll help him face it.

         “So, am I just supposed to confirm it for them then?”

         “No,” Charlie quickly answers, “or – I don’t know. Your journey, and how you go about it, is entirely up to you. Maybe a big public announcement isn’t what you need. Nor do I think you owe anyone that. I just think – maybe stop hiding away. Stop holding yourself back because you’re scared of what comes from it. Play rugby, but kiss boys too if that’s what’s going to make you feel happy. What’s the point of being the best rugby player in the league if you’re miserable?”

         Charlie lets the question suspend in the air between them. He doesn’t expect Nick to answer right away. He actually doesn’t expect an answer at all. He expects Nick to ask himself the question, and come up with an answer that will lead him down the right path. Whether he ever shares that answer with Charlie or not, Charlie’s not too concerned for. He, above all else, just wants Nick to be happy.  

         He knows that this conversation has caused something between them to change. And something inside Nick to change as well. He can feel the storm clouds inside Nick’s mind subside, making way for some light to peek through. He can feel Nick find it easier to breathe without choking on the water of the same ocean that kept pulling him under. For once, he’s able to swim to the surface. What he’ll find there, neither of them can be sure.  

         “I’m scared,” Nick admits.

         “I know,” Charlie says, and he holds on to Nick’s hand tighter than he was before.

         “But I want to – I want to try. Everything you’ve said. I want to try not to hide. If it’ll help me feel better, then I have to.”

         “And I’m here,” Charlie tells him, “to help you through whatever you need. I know I said this to you last night, but I really meant it when I said community is important. Just being surrounded with people like me here has helped me feel more me than ever before. And I wasn’t struggling quite like I used to when I got here.”

          Nick nods like he’s taking in Charlie’s clear offer of a friendship, “I’d like that. I can’t promise you I’ll be going to any LGBTQ+ society meetings anytime soon, but I wouldn’t mind doing this again. Maybe next time with some of your friends joining us.”

         Charlie smiles, his heart jumping out of his chest and into the palm of Nick’s hand, “I’m sure everyone would love that.”

         Nick gives him a sad laugh, “I wouldn’t be so sure.”

         “Please, Nick,” Charlie says, “you know everyone wants a piece of you. You’re the small-town celebrity on campus, remember?”

         The mood shifts into something lighter and then they’re sharing a small laugh.

         “Yeah, okay,” Nick says rolling his eyes, no heat behind it.

         “Seriously though,” Charlie says, “you’re always welcome. And I’ll always be here for you.”

         Nick looks away from Charlie only momentarily before his gaze returns, an intense look in his eyes, “I can’t thank you enough for that. Or just – doing this with me. Hearing me out. It’s already helped so much.”

         “You don’t have to thank me. I did this selfishly,” Charlie teases, although there’s more truth to it than he’d be willing to admit, “I wanted to get to know you more.”

         Nick snorts, “gotten to know a little bit more what a disaster I am, huh?”

         Charlie shakes his head, “I wouldn’t say you’re a disaster. Just – you know. Going through the usual full on gay crisis most of us go through during the early days of discovering our sexualities.”

         Nick laughs, “did you go through your own gay crisis, then?”

         Charlie thinks for a moment. In some ways, he did. In others, it wasn’t ever anything new about himself that he’d happened to discover like Nick seems to have.

         “Not really,” Charlie says, “In a way, I always knew I was gay. I didn’t just wake up one day, or have a fit guy join the rugby team, and say, ‘oh, I guess I’m gay now.’ I kind of always knew it was boys for me.”     

         There’s a sort of comfort to their conversations now that didn’t exist before they got to the pub that makes Charlie answer Nick like he’s talking to an old friend. It isn’t lost on him, however, how their hands are still connected. Despite the fact that Nick has stopped crying and doesn’t seem to need the physical touch to anchor his emotions, he hasn’t let go. He’s not too sure that’s something old friends do with one another.

         “Do you feel like that made coming out easier?” Nick asks him.

         “No, but that’s because I went to all boys school for primary and secondary. Truham wasn’t necessarily LGBTQ+ friendly. Even if you weren’t involved in things any of the activities the popular lads were, it just wasn’t inclusive like that. One of my best friends, Elle, had to transfer out almost immediately once she came out as trans. The bullying became almost too much instantly.”

         “Wow,” Nick gives Charlie a sympathetic look, giving Charlie’s hand a squeeze, “that sound shitty. I’m sorry.”

         “It was really shitty,” Charlie agrees, “and it made it way harder for me to feel comfortable with coming out to a bunch of people I already knew were homophobic. But sort of it like you, I wasn’t really given much of a choice.”

         “Oh, someone took a video of you snogging a boy and spread all over school too?” Nick asks, a hint of playfulness to his tone. Him making a joke of a rather serious situation that’s likely been tearing him down for months makes Charlie feel like something in Nick really is changing. He doesn’t think he would’ve made the joke even two weeks ago.

         “If only it had been that poetic,” Charlie returns the same joking tone to him, “Unfortunately, it was much more lackluster. Someone just heard two of my friends who I’d just come out to talking about it, and since no one else had come out as gay before, well. Everyone knew about it by the end of that week. And suddenly I went from being the band geek no one cared about, to the gay band geek everyone felt they had the right to talk shit to.”

         Nick’s mouth tilts downwards, the playful tone vanished, “were you – was the bullying bad?”

         Charlie looks down at their intertwined hands. It helps aid him when the memories of some of the worst times of his life flood his mind at Nick’s question.

         “Yeah, kind of” he finally answers, “and it led me down some of the lowest and worst times of my life. But – it’s okay. The story has a happy ending,” he looks back up to meet Nick’s eyes and gives him a smile to let him know he’s okay, “with a lot of work, and a lot of therapy, I got out of it. And now here I am. Gay and out and proud and unwilling to ever put myself back in the closet for anything in the world.”

         Charlie was hoping his words would make Nick feel better about both of their situations. But the downward tilt to Nick’s mouth remains. The despondent look in his eyes isn’t overcome with relief or hope. ‘

         “That’s good, Charlie,” Nick eventually says, and though Charlie feels like he means it, Nick’s facial expression isn’t one of joy or happiness still, “that’s really good.”

         Before Charlie can say something in return, Nick gives his hand one final squeeze and lets go entirely. Charlie’s hand instantly feels cold without Nick’s enveloping it. He misses the contact like if he had cut off his own limb. He stares at his hand, now alone and without Nick and just laying on the steel table. It feels wrong, but he can’t imagine doing what his body is begging him to do. He fights his body’s desire to reach out again, and instead slides his hand over the steel table and brings it back down to his lap.

         Charlie’s still not sure what he’s said wrong, but he can tell that something about what he said didn’t land like he wanted it to. He can tell by the way Nick is avoiding his eyes again. He watches as Nick wraps his hands around his glass again and downs the rest of his beer in one single gulp. Something about it makes a twinge of desire coat Charlie’s inside. He doesn’t think it’s appropriate to be feeling that when something about them feels off. So, he chugs his own drink in an attempt to extinguish the feeling.

         He’s about to say something to Nick once the mixture of rum and coke travels down his throat, landing in his stomach and providing him with some minimal liquid courage. But then Nick speaks first.

         “So, um,” Nick coughs into his fist like he’s scratching an itch in his throat, “I wanted to ask you if you could please keep this conversation between us? I’m really going to try and work on being more accepting of myself, and figuring out how to do that in a way that fits, but I don’t want, you know – I just think—”

         “Nick, I get it,” Charlie puts him out of his misery, “Of course this will stay between us. You can trust me.”

         The look Nick gives him is too hard for Charlie to be able to make out. Some of Nick’s guard is still up, and Charlie wonders whether it’ll always be that way. Whether no matter how much Nick lets Charlie get to know him, he’ll never let him get to know him entirely. Maybe there will always be parts of Nick he’ll keep guarded. Away from Charlie.

         “I do. I really do,” Nick says, breaking Charlie out of his string of thoughts, “and I know that makes no sense, given how little I actually know you. But I don’t know. I just know that I can trust you.”

         Charlie swallows down an emotion that feels unfamiliar to him but has Nick’s name written all over it.

         With the emotion giving Charlie very little choice in the matter, Charlie confesses, “I feel the same way.” 

         They stare back at one another, and in that one singular look, Charlie can make out all the unspoken words they don’t say. That they don’t dare to speak out loud. All the understanding that they, as two strangers, have between one another. It runs deeper than either of them can understand or comprehend. Charlie doesn’t know what it is about them that makes them different, he just knows that they share something that most people don’t. He wonders if he’ll ever get to know what that is.

As always, Nick is the one to break them from their trance. He clears his throat and picks up the menu that had long been discarded at the edge of their booth.

         “Is the food here any good?” he asks, scanning the menu and changing the subject entirely, “I’m not like, super hungry but I think I could go for something small.”

         “I only had a bit of the pizza the one time we came, and it was a little too overdone for my taste. But if you’re hungry, it’s an option.”

         Nick looks over his menu to Charlie, “I’m not really hungry for something as heavy as a pizza. I was thinking more of a snack. I think I saw an ice cream place on the other side of the street. Want to get some?”

         Charlie’s nerves have subsided substantially for him to be okay enough to eat. But he knows that the only thing he really has an appetite for is Nick. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to satiate that appetite though, and he’s sure that it won’t be tonight anyway.

         So, he nods, “I can go for an ice cream.”

         “Let’s do it then.”

        Luckily for them, the shop was open for fifteen more minutes when they walked over. Nick orders bubble gum flavored ice cream, and because Charlie has actual good taste when it comes to ice cream flavors, orders rich chocolate. Despite Charlie’s instance on paying for his own ice cream cone, Nick pays for both.

“It’s only fair,” Nick tells him, “you paid for the drinks.”

They walk out of the shop side by side, both of them licking at their cones like they were more than hungry for a small snack.

Charlie licks a strip from the base of his cone to the top of his ice cream scoops. He swallows and then says, “out of all the things I’ve learned about you tonight, your ice cream of choice being bubblegum has to be the most not only the most surprising, but the most atrocious too.”

Nick cackles at Charlie’s insult, “oh, fuck off. Sorry, I’m not basic and didn’t order chocolate.”

Charlie licks at his ice cream cone again, enjoying the delicious flavor of chocolate bless his tongue and cater to his taste buds.

“Call me basic all you want. I’d rather be that for ordering chocolate than an abomination to humanity by order bubblegum.”

“Why don’t you taste it before shit talking it?”

“I’d much rather die.”

Nick rolls his eyes with a smile on his face as he moves to take a seat on the curb of the sidewalk. Charlie joins him a moment later, leaving a small space between their bodies. The night is still and quiet around them, the streetlight and light from the ice cream shop the only thing illuminating either of their faces. It feels peaceful, being sat next to Nick on an otherwise empty street, doing something as mundane as enjoying ice cream with each other. In another life, this would be all Charlie ever needs to feel complete.

Maybe in this life too.

“Can I ask you a question?” Nick says, breaking the comfortable silence.

Charlie turns his head slightly to get a good look at him. The shadows dance across Nick’s face under the minimal lighting, and even with such little visibility, Charlie can make out how beautiful he is. He’d find it unfair if he didn’t enjoy it as much as he does.

“Sure,” Charlie answers.

Nick continues looking straight ahead, “why did you really leave Kent to come to Leeds?”

It’s not the question Charlie expects him to ask, so it takes him a moment to come up with an answer.

“What I told you in the library is the truth,” Charlie says, “I left Kent because there was really nothing left for me there to grow. I thought Leeds could provide new opportunities that Kent just couldn’t.”

“Like what?” Nick questions, “What did you think you could get here in Leeds that you couldn’t in Kent?”

“Everything,” Charlie sighs, “Kent is a small town. I knew most of the people I was going to university with there that I’d known since primary and secondary school. Like I told you before, Kent’s not very diverse. I knew I wasn’t going to be able to have a sense of community there. I wasn’t going to be able to find someone to fall in love with there.”

Nick turns his head, his eyes landing on Charlie’s like they’re coming home, “you’ve never been in love?”

“No,” Charlie says, and then he scoffs, “up until recently I’d barely ever even had sex.”

It comes out so casual. The words slip from his mouth without a second thought. He blames it on the newfound comfort he’s found when talking to Nick, like a warm blanket that envelopes him with security and understanding that feels too nice to ignore. But once the words tumble out, Charlie finds himself once again wishing there was a real life ‘delete’ or ‘undo’ button. He feels slightly like he’s just overshared and embarrassed by that. He’s trying to find a proper way to apologize for it when Nick speaks before he a chance to.

“Sounds like moving to Leeds was the right move then.”

“I, um,” Charlie trips over his words, wishing he would’ve thought more carefully before he spoke just moments before, “sorry. I kind of just blurted that out and I didn’t mean—”

“Don’t apologize,” Nick tells him, “You have nothing to be sorry for. You just answered my question.”

Before Charlie can tell him that no, he did not just answer his question but also shared something a bit more intimate that appropriate for two people barely starting a friendship, Nick says, “I’ve noticed you do that a lot.”

“Do what?” Charlie asks.

“Apologize when it isn’t necessary. When you haven’t really done anything that you need to apologize for.”

Charlie knows Nick is right. It’s a bad habit of his that, even after all the intense therapy, he still hasn’t been able to get rid of. He picked it up when he started seeing Ben. Ben always made Charlie feel like a bother. Like a pestering wound that never healed. Charlie felt the need to apologize just for breathing improperly besides him. He apologizes a lot less for things now, but sometimes it’s hard to kick the habit. The fact that Nick has picked up on it from their limited encounters lets Charlie know that maybe it's still more prevalent than he thought.

“It’s a bad habit of mine,” Charlie’s voice is soft, “and I feel like apologizing for that but I won’t.”

He says the last bit in a joking tone, to ease the mood. It works, because Nick gives him a small laugh beside him.

“Please don’t.”

Charlie licks a bit more at his ice cream, trying to avoid it melting into his hands. He returns Nick’s question to him.

“So, have you?”

“Have I what?”

“Ever been in love.”

Nick doesn’t answer right away. He can feel Nick stop besides him, contemplating Charlie’s question.

“I suppose ‘almost’ doesn’t count,” he says.

Charlie didn’t realize he was holding his breath for Nick’s answer until he feels his lungs deflate once he registers Nick’s response. Selfishly, he knows it was the one he was hoping for.

“I don’t think anything besides a ‘yes’ does, to be fair.”

“Guess we have that in common, then.”

“Guess we do.”

They finish the rest of their ice creams in a shared, snug silence. It’s the kind of silence that only comes when two people really, truly understand one another. Charlie doesn’t think there’s many people in his life he has that with. Maybe he has it with Toa and Elle. Tori. Isaac. But those are people he’s known for years. Being able to have it with someone who he still feels like he hasn’t even gotten to know for more than brief moments in time feels special. It feels unique. It reminds Charlie that there’s something about their connection that is unlike anything he’s ever experienced before.

They stay that way until they both finish their ice creams, down to the cones. Once they do, Nick is the first to stand, wiping his hands on his jeans.

Charlie looks up at Nick, waiting to see if he’ll offer his hand again before getting to his feet himself. He knows he doesn’t need Nick’s help to do that, much like he didn’t need it at the library. But just like back in the library, he wants it. As if the universe is willing to grant Charlie all his silent requests, Nick gives his hand out to Charlie palm up. Charlie takes it with ease, and that inevitable feeling that overcomes him whenever they touch is starting to feel more and more familiar. Nick lets go as soon as Charlie is securely on his feet, so the contact last far shorter than Charlie would’ve liked. But it’s still enough to leave Charlie’s skin buzzing from the contact the entire walk back to the car.

They’re both quiet as they walk step in step, but Charlie knows they’re both thinking it. How he knows that he’s not too sure. Maybe it has to do with that weird, and unique connection they have to one another. But he knows they’re both thinking that under different circumstances, even if they were so lucky, the entire night could be looked at in an entirely different lens. Even if neither of them will say it, he knows that they both know it.

In another world, this would have been our first date. It would’ve been the first time you let me see you for who you are. And then you would’ve taken me home and kissed me like I was yours.

But in this world, Charlie knows that this is not that night. In this world, the best to come of their night together is Nick learning to accept himself a little bit more. Them getting to know each other a bit better as people. Maybe forge a new friendship.

It’s good, and Charlie’s happy it’s happened. But it doesn’t feel like enough. Then again, when it comes to Nick Nelson, nothing ever really does.  

Nick brings Charlie back to reality as he opens his passenger door for him. As if it’s customary for him to do that for him.

Charlie gives him a shy smile, “thanks.”

Nick gives him a nod in return.

As Nick drives them back to campus, he hands his phone over to Charlie to pick a song to play on his stereo system for the drive.

 Charlie’s not surprised to find very little he recognizes. It’s a lot of American rap and R&B – not quite what Charlie himself listens to.

“Okay, your taste in music is the second most surprising thing I’ve learned of you tonight,” Charlie teases, “maybe also the second most atrocious.”

“Oi!” Nick says, “I have so much Drake in that playlist. There has to be at least one song you enjoy from him. It’s Drake.”

Charlie sighs like he’s exhausted by Nick’s lack of variety but he does actually find a Drake song he recognizes and likes to some degree. He plays ‘Fire & Desire’ to appease Nick and have something playing on their short drive back. Nick doesn’t comment on Charlie’s song choice, but when Charlie sneaks a glance over at him, he sees Nick bopping his head along and mouthing some of the words. Charlie takes note of how relaxed Nick looks. Far more relaxed than he did when they were driving to the pub. His head is leaned back on his seat, and only one hand is on the steering wheel. The other is resting on the gear shit. Inches from Charlie’s own that is resting on his lap.

Charlie’s pinky flexes at the proximity of their hands, wanting to reach out and take Nick’s in his own again. But he refrains.

When they make it back to campus, it’s even quieter than it was when they left. Everyone seems to be safely tucked away in their flats and dorm rooms. When Charlie checks the time, he’s surprised to find that It’s a bit past midnight. He really hadn’t noticed how long they’d been out for, or how quickly the time had passed them by when they were.

         On the walk to their building, Nick comments on how knackered he’s going to be for rugby practice tomorrow.

         “I’m definitely going to struggle to stay awake for lectures,” Charlie tells him, understanding the fatigue they’re both about to experience for being up so late.

         Charlie’s definitely not used to staying up this late when he has early morning lectures the next day. He should be itching to get to bed as soon as possible. He imagines Nick should be feeling the same. He expects him to quickly depart once they reach their building. But when they do, and they come up to stop in front of Charlie’s flat, Nick doesn’t leave immediately. Charlie doesn’t go to open his door immediately either. It’s as if neither of them is ready for the night to end, even if they’re both going to heavily regret their choice to be up so late in the morning.

         Charlie fully turns his body to face Nick. They’re standing eye to eye, a couple of feet apart.

         In other world, this would be the part where you kiss me.

         In this world, it’s the part where they awkwardly say goodnight to one another.

         “I hope this helped,” Charlie says.

         “It did,” Nick assures him, “it really did. I really – Charlie, thank you.”

         “You know what I’ve realized you do a lot?”

         Nick looks at him with a bit of a confused expression, “what?”

         “Thank me when it isn’t necessary.”

         Nick gives him a breathy laugh, “Charlie.”

         “You don’t need to keep thanking me for this,” Charlie looks at him seriously, hoping Nick understands he means it, “I’m flattered that you wanted to open up with me. It really means a lot to me. More than I can put into words.”

         Nick cocks his head to the side and squints at Charlie, “But I thought you were supposed to be good with words?”

         Charlie affectionately rolls his eyes, “ha. Ha.”

         Nick gives him a smile. A signature, lip-sided Nick Nelson smile, “seriously though, talking to you took very little effort on my part. You make it easy.”

         How am I not supposed to fall in love with you when you say things like that, you giant, rugby idiot?

         Charlie swallows, “you’re easy to talk to, too.”

         Though there doesn’t really seem to be anything left to say, or any other way for Charlie to drag out the conversation, neither of them turns to leave. They stand there out in the hall, both of their feet planted to the ground where they stand. Like they’re unable to break apart. Unable to leave each other’s presence.

         But Charlie knows they have to depart eventually. He could stay out in the hallway with Nick all night, but that doesn’t seem practical or feasible. Prolonging the inevitable won’t really do them any favor. So, with a heavy heart, Charlie starts to say goodbye.

                  “Well—” Charlie starts to say at the same time Nick says, “maybe we should exchange numbers this time.”

         Nick’s word stun Charlie. What he was going to say dies on his tongue, never making it out his mouth. He can’t even help the surprised look he knows he has on his face.

         “I mean, this was helpful. I meant it when I said I’d like to do it again,” Nick explains, “and also, if the idea is that I get more of a sense of community I think the most comfortable way for me to do that would be through you. So, well – if you’re comfortable or okay with swapping numbers, I think it would be a good idea.”

         Charlie can tell Nick is rambling a bit. Trying to sell Charlie on it. Little does he know Charlie doesn’t need excuses or explanations to do what Nick’s just asked of him. He’s been wanting Nick’s number on his phone since the first day they met. His reaction comes from not expecting Nick to want the same thing. Especially not after the first time he so politely rejected the idea. It only further confirms what Charlie already knows is true – something has changed.

         “Of course, I’m okay with it,” Charlie says, “and um, as far as community goes – we’re actually getting together tomorrow night for slam poetry night. Tara and her partner, Darcy. Jess and Amy. And me. If you want to join.”

         Charlie silently curses himself for making the invitation sound like a triple date. Although, he’s hardly sure what’s going on between Jess and Amy just that something is. But if he can barely make it out, he’s sure Nick is oblivious to it too.

         Nick gives him an amused look, “will you be performing?”

         Nick’s earlier words to him blare through his mind like they’re being spoken into a megaphone. Refusing to go unheard.

         I’d go to every slam poetry night if you were performing.

         Charlie mutes them.

         “I’m not,” Charlie answers, “I don’t have any worthy material. I’m just going to enjoy other people’s words.”

         “Something tells me that isn’t true. I’m sure you have loads of worthy material,” Nick tells him, a playful glint in his eyes,

         “Don’t be so sure.”

         “Mm,” Nick hums, and then, his facial expression turns a bit more serious, “thanks for the invitation, Charlie. I’d like to go but I just – it might be too soon still. I’ll think about it though.”

         At Nick’s words, Charlie is reminded that everything that happened with Cristian and his friends only just happened yesterday. It feels like he’s lived lifetimes since then.

         “No pressure,” Charlie says understandably, “it was just an invitation. A suggestion, if you were up for it.”

         “You seem to like to give me a lot of suggestions,” Nick teases.

         “Well, they’ve been pretty good so far, haven’t they?” Charlie teases right back.        

         “Mm, so far I have no complaints about your suggestion services.”

         “Well then make sure to leave me a five-star review.”

         “Demanding. Maybe it’ll be four stars now.”

         Charlie giggles, and Nick laughs. And Charlie in unsure how they do it so easily. How they can flow in and out of conversations, in and out of emotions with such ease. It’s unlike anything he’s ever had with anyone else. And that alone should scare Charlie, but if anything, it entices him further.

         After a beat, Nick removes his phone from the front pocket of his jeans. Charlie watches as he unlocks it and a second later, he’s handing it over to Charlie. Charlie types out his number swiftly, handing the phone back to Nick to let him decide what contact name to save Charlie under. Nick types something, likely just Charlie’s name for his contact, and puts his phone back inside his front pocket.

         “I’ll text you,” Nick tells him.

         Charlie gives him a small nod, “okay.”

         “Okay.”

         Silence.

         Charlie’s still finding it difficult to end their night. More than that, he’s finding it difficult on how to end it. In his perfect, made up, alternate universe, this would be the moment they’d hastily meet in the middle. Their bodies crashing into one another. Nick’s hands would cup Charlie’s face and Charlie’s hands would fall to Nick’s waist. And like they need it more than they need air, they’d connect their lips. Pouring all of their desires, all of their hopes and all of their wants from and for one another into desperate kisses.

But Charlie’s very aware that this isn’t that reality. This is a reality where their goodbye is far less romantic, and far more platonic. Even if it doesn’t feel sufficient, the only way to end their night is to say goodnight. So, that’s what Charlie does.

         “Goodnight then, Nick,” Charlie says.

         “Goodnight, Charlie,” Nick says.

         Nick makes to step around Charlie and then, like he has a sudden change of heart, he steps into Charlie’s space. He wraps a careful arm around Charlie’s shoulders, and with a gentle tug, pulls Charlie to his chest. There’s no force behind it. And it isn’t needed, because Charlie goes easily, like his body was made to be pressed against Nick’s. And when it is, there’s hardly anything in the world that could convince him otherwise.

         Charlie breathes in and his senses are overloaded with all things Nick. He smells kind of like his car, something floral and citrusy but also something different. Something Charlie can only categorize as something ‘Nick.’ Underneath where he rests his cheek on Nick’s chest, he can feel the terseness of his muscles. As he wraps his arms around Nick’s back, he can feel the firmness of Nick’s back muscles underneath his hands despite the lack of pressure he’s putting. And when Nick rests his own head on top of Charlie, Charlie can’t help but flutter his eyes closed. He wishes he could stay in this moment for a lifetime, Nick’s arms feeling like the only safe haven Charlie will ever need.

 But it’s over far too soon. After a few seconds, Nick untangles himself from Charlie and Charlie does the same back, even if no part of him wants to let go.

         Nick takes a step back, his eyes darting all over Charlie’s face.

“Bye,” Nick’s voice is barely above a whisper, like he doesn’t want to utter the words.

         “Bye,” Charlie whispers back.

         Nick walks away this time, and Charlie stays where he is. He gives it a few moments, and when he turns his head, he’s not surprised to see Nick looking back at him. He stands in front of his door and gives Charlie a small wave. Charlie gives him one back. Then Nick looks away and puts the key into the keyhole of his door. Charlie fishes for his keys out of his own pockets to do the same. Before he fully disappears into his flat, away from Nick, he takes one last glance back. He always tries to steal as many glances of Nick as he can. Nick is almost gone by the time Charlie looks back, walking inside his flat with his back turned to him. With nothing else left for him out in the hallway, Charlie walks into his own flat.

         It’s quiet and dark, with everyone likely sound asleep in their own bedrooms. He goes straight for his own room, feeling exhausted from the day’s events. Not the bad kind of exhausted, that makes him feel draine, but just the right amount the leaves Charlie perfectly ready for bed.

He goes through his usual bed-time routine, trying his best to not let his entire night with Nick replay in his mind on a never-ending loop. But as he brushes his teeth, he can’t help but see the look in Nick’s eyes at the pub when he let himself be new levels of vulnerable with Charlie. As he washes his face, he can’t but see Nick’s face as they ate ice creams, their laughs meshing into one as they bantered. And as he lays his head down in his pillow, he can’t help but remember the feeling of Nick’s body flush against his own. A feeling that Charlie can easily see himself chasing. Can easily see himself becoming addicted to.

         He tries not shake that thought of, knowing it won’t do him any good, as he plugs in his phone to charge and checks for any new notifications he missed in his time out with Nick. He barely checked his phone when he was out, and he tells himself that’s the driving force behind checking it now. But he knows what he’s really looking for, what he’s really hoping to find is a new notification from an unknown number. An unknown number that would undoubtedly belong to Nick. He tries not to let himself become too disappointed with the fact that there’s no new notifications from an unknown number, although the feeling comes over him without their being much for him to do to stop it. It seeps into his bones as he skims over Manny’s messages that he’s received throughout the night. None of them igniting a fragment of a flame that one look, one word, from Nick starts in him.

One look from Nick could set his entire insides ablaze. Something that twenty looks from someone else could hardly accomplish.  

         Charlie stays up for twenty more minutes scrolling through his phone. He tells himself he’s just unwinding. But he knows what he’s actually doing.

 The text never comes in.

         Unable to hold off on sleep anymore, he locks his phone and gets ready to rest. As he tosses and turns, trying to get into a comfortable position, he knows the restlessness comes from the lack of Nick’s text. He wills himself to stop spiraling, to remember his promise to himself. His promise to not let himself continue to be defined by unemotionally available men. Despite how much Nick let Charlie in tonight, despite how much he opened up to him, there’s still so much of himself Nick needs to figure out. There’s still so much of himself he needs to make space for in his life before he can even think of making space for Charlie – if that were ever even a thing he would consider. Charlie can’t and isn’t going to wait around for that day to come.

         He isn’t.

         He falls asleep repeating that to himself.

         The next morning, Charlie’s alarm goes off as it always does at six in the morning. When Charlie goes to turn it off, feeling more tired than usual because of how late he went to bed the night before, he notices a text from an unknown number. Charlie’s body reacts instantly, feeling suddenly every awake. He sits up on his bed, his heart stuck in his throat as he opens the messages.

         Unknown: Hi, good morning!

         It’s Nick btw.

         Charlie’s excitement is tempered by his mind’s reminder that the barriers that stand between them still exist in the daylight. Still exist despite a few texts from Nick.

         He repeats it to himself again. His promise. The same one he fell asleep repeating to himself the night before.

         If it becomes harder and harder to remember as he exchanges a string of texts between him and Nick throughout the day well – Charlie can blame it on his poor memory.  

Chapter Text

Nick has been breathing in what feels like new air for the last two weeks.

It’s refreshing. Rejuvenating. A re-birth of sorts.

A gust of new wind that he didn’t know he needed until he had it. Now he feels like any other air he dares to breathe is polluted with all the things he’d rather avoid. He knows who is to thank, or to blame (depending on how he looks at it) for the fresh air that now fills his lungs. He knows it’s all been brought on by one Charlie. Fucking. Spring.

  Since their conversation that night at the bar, nothing has actually changed. Nothing tangible nor measurable by any means. But things still feel different. And that feeling of change came almost immediately.

The day after their talk, when Nick had finally grown the courage to text Charlie and keep his promise to himself to actually listen to Charlie’s advice, to actually do something to make himself turn the gray skies he keeps painting over his own town into brighter colors, was when the change officially started. Somehow, they wounded up texting back and forth all day until they fell asleep. And because neither of them managed to get a good night text before their departure into dreamland where other versions of them would meet, the conversation carried over to the next day. And then the same thing seemed to happen the night after, and then the night after that, and then every night since for the last two weeks. And if Nick purposefully leaves his phone in his hands as he lays down with his cheek on his pillow, pretending his eyes are drifting with very little will power of his own to stop them when really, his mind is still awake and racing and capable of sending a simple text – well. Who needs to know?

Texting all day with Charlie hasn’t changed much about his days anyway. Just the way he feels throughout them. But Nick still goes to practice. He still goes to the gym. He still does his coursework. He tells himself he’s still focused.

He’s also just not so angry all the time anymore.

So much so, that he finally let Cristian apologize to him just four days after everything happened. Just four days of texting Charlie day in and out made him feel ready enough to let the conversation he’d been avoiding and putting off with Cristian take place. What would’ve taken him at least four weeks on his own, took him four days with Charlie by his side. How could he resist that sort of remedy?

Cristian had acted like he had his tail between his legs throughout the entire conversation. He’d ducked his head, barely made eye contact, and profusely apologized to Nick for, in his own words, “spewing drunken bullshit.” And Nick, to his surprise, said something that vindicated them both.

“It wasn’t bullshit,” Nick told a desolate Cristian, “But it still didn’t need to be said in that way. Or by you. Or at all.”

Nick hadn’t known what to expect Cristian’s response to be. But what it was, was a small smile, and then a very firm nod.

“Will never happen again,” Cristian promised.

“I know,” Nick believed him.

Once that reckoning came to be, it felt like there was no more smoke left for Nick to breathe. From that moment on, it was all the fresh air Charlie kept blowing his way.

He knows he can’t rely on Charlie to fix all his problems for him. But he’s good medicine. A good catalyst to start the cure. Nick’s feeling brighter, and lighter, than he’s felt in months.

And he refuses to let it go. But he also refuses to mess it up. So, he’s drawn a clear boundary, even if he hasn’t spoken it out loud to anyone else. It exists, even if no one but himself knows that it does, and he’s going to respect its existence.

The boundary is simple and effective – keep Charlie Spring in his life as a friend and only a friend. He will not betray his boundary. Even if touching Charlie feels like a hit off a drug whose high he could never match with anything else. Even if just talking to him through a digitalized screen feels much better than talking to people in the flesh. Even if Charlie understands part of him he can barely make out himself. Even if all that, the line has been drawn on the sand. It is bold and thick and uncrossable. Nick will not blur it. He and Charlie will continue to forge the beautiful friendship they started two weeks ago – maybe even before then – and Nick will not make it more. He will silently wish for it. He will silently dream of it. But he will never, ever, allow himself to live it.

Because he understands that Charlie is important to him. For him. And he understands that if he were to make a romance out of their friendship, he would only be making a mockery of them both. Nick could probably live with making a mockery of himself. It wouldn’t be the first time. But he could not live with making a mockery out of Charlie. He barely survived it when he did it to Thomas. He just knows he wouldn’t if he were to do it to Charlie.

It would be the end of him, and Nick is finally starting to see the beginning of him.  The real him.

Of course, there are some things that not even the winds of change can help or fix. Like Nick’s first game of the season being two days away. He feels the pressure of it threatening to pulverize his bones. He knows how much is riding on him playing at his best, and how much of an expectation there is for him to do just that. Not just from the person who loves to build expectations for Nick that are so high he can barely climb them, but from everyone else around him. It isn’t just his dad that Nick is at risk of disappointing. It’s also his teammates, his coach, the scouts who have taken a train ride out just to see him play.

 Himself.

The weight of it threatens the lightness he’s been finding in every step he’s been taking in the last two weeks. And so, even though he’s purposefully avoided seeing Charlie in person again since that night and has resorted just to texting him in leu of his own set boundary, he thinks he needs to up his dosage to calm the unnerving feeling that’s menacing his newfound tranquility. He doesn’t want to become undone again when he finally feels the pieces of him coming together and staying that way. So, he does something a little reckless. A little bit against his own rules and regulations but something he finds absolutely necessary.

He texts Charlie to ask him where he is on campus, so he can go pay him a visit.

Charlie’s text comes back as it always does – minutes later.

         Charlie S.: wow to what do I owe this honor??

         i’m in the lemonade café across the gym

         Nick doesn’t even bother replying, he just walks himself from where he is to where Charlie is. In his mind, he justifies his actions. He tells himself that he’s not crossing any boundaries. He tells himself he’s simply tending to his needs, taking care of himself in the same way he’s been trying to do for the last two weeks. He may be upping his dosage but he’s not overdosing.

         It’s fine.

         He walks into the lemonade café, the same one he once saw Charlie coming out of across the courtyard at an ungodly hour where he’d been trying to throw his problems into a workout. When he’d mistakenly thought he could sweat off the misery and self-loathing.

         He finds Charlie in one of the round tables by the window. A purple lemonade in one hand and a pen in the other. A book wide open on the table, his notebook to the side and Nick automatically knows this medicine to cure all his ailments is much better than anything he’s ever tried before. It’s much better than pushing his physical limitations at the gym. It’s much better than running rugby drills until his legs go numb. It's much better than trying to bury himself in meaningless sex or depthless hang outs with people who he can barely call friends. Because when he catches sight of Charlie, in his fluffy blue jumper and his tussled curls, he feels like he could float through air. And when Charlie turns his head, suddenly aware of Nick’s presence as well, and blue ocean waves crash into the dirt on Nick’s own earth after two long weeks – he feels like his bones are made of steel.

         The smile that takes over Nick’s face is instantaneous and Charlie mirrors it perfectly.

         Nick approaches his table, “hi.”

         Charlie’s eyes look up at him, lit ablaze by something he can’t quite pinpoint, “hi.”

         Nick pulls on one of the empty chairs right next to Charlie, “this seat taken?”

         “Mm,” Charlie’s smile turns playful, like a kid in a playground getting ready to play hide and seek and make sure it’s one hell of a round, “kind of. Was reserving it for someone whose presence is both a rarity and a luxury.”

         Nick’s smile widens despite his best efforts, “is this person some sort of celebrity?”

         He sinks down to his seat, his body angled towards Charlie’s.

         Charlie eyes him, and every time he does Nick feels like he’s on full display. Like Charlie can read every single thought he’s having or worse – every single thought he’s about to have before he has it.

         “Something like that,” Charlie responds, “how’re you?”

         Nick can’t help the small laugh that escapes his lips, “Charlie, you’ve been talking to me all day.”

         “Yes, but I haven’t seen you in two weeks,” Charlie argues like it makes all the difference in the world, “texting is not the same. I can see much more of you face to face.”

         “Okay,” Nick chooses to indulge him, his elbows on his knees as he scoots a little closer to Charlie’s vicinity, “and what do you see?”

         Charlie’s eyes leave traces of heat as they skim all of Nick’s face.

         “You look a bit tired,” Charlie answers.

         Nick can’t help the sad laugh he lets out, in direct contrast with the genuine one he’s just given Charlie, “well, that’s a nice way to say I look like shit.”

         “That is not what I said,” Charlie quickly defends, “you never look like shit, Nick. I don’t think it’s possible for you to look like shit.”

         Charlie’s words stick to his skin and threaten to become eternally etched on to it. Like a tattoo only he could ever see or feel but would be unerasable. And that’s dangerous. Because the mere implications of Charlie’s words make the line Nick has so carefully etched into the sand thin.

         Remember your boundary, Nick tells himself inside his own head.  

         Nick pulls his body back, no matter how much it screams at him to do the opposite – to inch closer. He creates that necessary space between them to keep his boundary intact, where it needs to be for both of their sakes.

         “It’s very possible. And happens more often than you think,” Nick deflects, and in an even more desperate attempt to not mess everything up, he changes the subject and looks from Charlie’s face to his book on the table, “what’re you reading?”

         “I doubt that,” Charlie replies, and Nick is learning that Charlie Spring is not good at letting many things go, “and I’m not reading. I wish I was – that would actually be enjoyable. I’m studying.”

         “What’re you studying?”

         “I’m trying to fulfill my language credit so,” Charlie sighs heavily, “I thought it’d be cute to challenge myself and took French. It isn’t cute. It’s dreadful.”

         The thing about the universe when it comes to Charlie Spring is that it hardly ever sides with Nick. It never makes things easier for him. He is the punchline to the universe’s cruelest joke, because the universe always does the exact opposite. It creates recipes that throw Charlie Spring right in the mix and bakes it into a pie always left on the foot of Nick’s doorstep. And who could resist a pie whose crust is burnt to perfection? Whose jelly is filled the absolute right amount – not too much, and not too little? Maybe there are others that could resist such a magnetic pull, such fruits of temptation dangling in front of their faces, daring them to take just a bite. But Nick is not one of those people.

         So, he asks, “why is it dreadful?”

         There’s a glint in his eyes that he’s not sure Charlie can recognize. Hopes he can’t.

         “Because I’m bloody awful at it!” Charlie proclaims, exactly as Nick predicted he would.

         “Pourquoi? Le francais est une langue tellement simple. Tu es trop intelligent pour y reflechir autant.”

         Nick lets the moment be soaked by Charlie’s skin. The reaction is everything he could dream of and more. Charlie’s eyes widen, then his cheeks pink and then his mouth gapes like he’s a fish out of water, trying to grasp for air. Charlie’s not trying to grasp for air, but he’s surely trying to find his composure.

         Nick can’t help the boastful smile that takes over his mouth.

         “I’m sorry – what?” Charlie’s mouth hangs open momentarily, before he shuts it again and asks, his voice incredulous and his eyes wide, “you speak French? Fluently?”

         “Oui,” Nick smiles proudly.

         “Stop that,” Charlie warns him, “since when?”

         Nick cocks his head to the side, and furrows his eyebrows in playful confusion, “Despuis ma naissance?”

         “I don’t understand what you’re saying!” Charlie frustratedly exclaims, though his smile and the color in his cheeks betray him. Nick knows he’s not actually frustrated at all. He’s amused. Maybe even more than that – he’s intrigued. He’s turned –

         Boundaries, Nick’s own voice reminds him, shutting down the previous thought that went against him. And with that final reminder, he dials it back.

         He lets out a small laugh, “a quick Google search would tell you my father is French.”

         Charlie’s eyebrows shoot up, “oh, and why would I ever have Googled your dad?”

         Nick shrugs, “maybe you’d want to learn more about me?”

         “Oh wow. You do have an ego,” Charlie says, and before Nick can defend himself, he continues, “but no. I have not Googled your family name. I only want to learn about you from you.”

         “And what have you learned so far?”

         “You’ve got terrible taste in ice cream and also, music. And now, that you speak French very fluently.”

         Nick bites his lower lip to keep himself from cackling again, “wow, two weeks of texting and that’s all you’ve got to show for it?”

         “The other things I’ll keep to myself, however this,” Charlie uses his index finger to poke at Nick’s thigh, and the contact sends stars to appear behind Nick’s eyes. It’s that gold rush again. The feeling of being lit up like a fourth of July sky. Nick’s eyes can’t help but stare at the contact, even if briefly, “this is surprising. And something I’m very interested in.”

         Nick opens his mouth to respond, but the first thing that comes to mind doesn’t feel appropriate. Him asking Charlie, ‘how interested?’ feels like a direct violation of his boundary.

         So, instead, he says, “my dad is French and spoke to us in French all his life. He wanted us to know the language because he knew the language and well, I think my dad truly sees us as extensions of himself.”

         “Well, you’re not. You’re your own person” Charlie’s index finger, the same one who’d just been teasingly poking at Nick’s thigh, caresses it. Nick’s not sure if it’s an absent-minded, second-nature move because Charlie’s eyes don’t leave his as he does it, as he speaks.

         But Nick’s heart feels lodged in his throat. He wants all of Charlie’s gentle touches everywhere. All over him. He thinks that if he could have that kind of medicine, he’d never feel poorly again.

         But boundaries.

         Nick clears his throat and looks down to Charlie’s book on the table, just to keep himself from doing something incredibly stupid, “tell him that.”

         “I will,” Charlie says confidently, “give me his number.”

         Nick looks back at Charlie, and Charlie is giving him a grin that makes his dimples pop out. Nick gives him a smile back, because how could he ever resist when Charlie is looking at him like that?

         Then, because Nick is equal parts a masochist and an opportunist, he says, “I can help you with your French coursework.”

         Charlie’s surprise flickers through his face like a lantern burning quickly through the nighttime, “will you really? It’d be more like tutoring than it would be like, a single assignment.”

         “That’s alright,” Nick genuinely says, because he can’t think of anything worse or better than spending more time with Charlie, “I think you need it and you know,” he braces himself, knowing the line he’s drawn on the sand for his own well-being is about to be exposed to the person standing on the other side of it, “what’re friends for?”

         He lets the word hang between them, stretching and taking up the space it needs to, to make itself at home.

         Friends!

         Friends.

         Friends?

         It doesn’t quite feel right. Appropriate. Like the word is incapable of wrapping itself around them. Unable to frame their relationship, or what they are. But it has to.

         It has to.

         “We’re friends, are we?” Charlie asks, amusement laced onto his every word.

         “I would think so,” Nick replies, trying to sound cool and sure and like the word is the perfect fit, “I don’t think I talk to anyone quite as much as I do you. And I don’t talk to anyone about the things I do you either, so yeah. I’d say we’re friends.”

         Charlie gives him a curt nod, “Okay then. Friends.”

         Nick doesn’t let himself linger on the undertone of Charlie’s words. Whatever disappointment either of them feel about the boundary won’t change that it needs to remain.

         Charlie adjusts accordingly. Like he always seems to do. And before Nick has the chance to brace himself, he’s mourning the loss of contact as Charlie retreats his touch. It feels like the best suited punishment he could give him. Nick tries to pretend it doesn’t put him behind bars.

         “So, when would like the tutoring to start?” Nick asks, trying to keep the whole thing on the right side of the line he’s not willing to cross.

         “Whenever you’re available,” Charlie answers, “maybe we could meet up in the library like twice a week? I know you’re very busy, but whatever days you feel you won’t be too hung up on practice.”

         At Charlie’s mention of rugby practice, Nick is reminded as to why he was seeking refuge in Charlie again. The game looms over him like a dark cloud, thunder threatening to strike with promises of dread. He pushes it aside as he looks at Charlie, letting the mere vision of him push the dark cloud aside and make way for the bright rays of sunshine a glimpse of him always brings.

         “Twice a week can work,” Nick’s not sure anything that he’s setting up will work. He’s actually quite sure of the opposite – it might be the death of him. But being in Charlie’s presence for the brief time he’s been in it is the best he’s felt since the last time he saw him. The texts suddenly feel like too little. Not nearly enough to get his fix. The dosing has increased.

         “Great. Thank you,” Charlie tells him, and before Nick can tell him a thanks isn’t necessary, Charlie asks, “The first game of the season is in two days, isn’t it?”

         The sudden reminder of his game feels like harsh waves crashing over his own grave. His anxieties surrounding what’s expected of him rise above the sea line, creating tsunami waves of doubt and insecurity and everything he’s been trying to escape. As if it’s written all over his face, Charlie leans in slightly.

         “Nervous about it?” Charlie asks gently, his voice a calming agent to the tidal wave of Nick’s anxiousness. Nick doesn’t think he’ll ever know anyone else who knows him better than he does himself the way Charlie seems to. He reads him like he wrote the very lines that make up Nick’s skeleton. It’s a bizarre thing. But also, a comforting one.

         “A bit,” Nick breathes, the fresh air Charlie provides him blowing away through the darkness that always threatens him at every corner, “there’s just a lot – you know. Riding on it.”

         “I won’t pretend to fully understand,” Charlie admits, “but just know that as long as you play in a way that makes you proud, whether you win or lose the actual game, that’s a win. And that’s all that really matters.”

         Nick knows Charlie’s words are the reality he is fighting so hard to frame for himself. But they’re still far out of reach. A dangling fantasy that feels unbelonging.

         “I’ll try to remember that,” he tells Charlie, because that’s the best and most honest he can do.

         There’s a blanket of comfortable silence that wraps itself around them. It feels like the same one they found themselves in two weeks prior. Nothing about it every feels like unresolved tension brewing beneath the surface, but more like a silent understanding shared between them. Even when they’re not speaking, Nick can hear him. And he’s sure Charlie can do the same.

         “Do you plan on going?” Nick asks a moment later, breaking the silence.

         He doesn’t want to hold his breath for the answer, but suddenly Nick’s lungs feel too full to bring in any more air. The question is loaded with a longing that fills him with dreadful anticipation, not giving way to any other rational emotion. He waits for Charlie to answer, like he’s a kid waiting by the door for their parents to finally come home. Waiting anxiously for that familiar feeling of security and safety to envelope them once more.

         “Amy’s really pushing to make a whole thing out of it since Daisy is going for Cristian,” Charlie says, “I’m just not very sure if, you know. I don’t know.”

         Nick doesn’t know a damn thing.

         “I actually don’t know?”

         Charlie releases a breath that feels heavy, “just – you hadn’t mentioned it. I didn’t want to show up and have it feel like I’m invading your space or inserting myself where I shouldn’t?”

         Suddenly, the picture is painted crystal clear in Nick’s mind. The oils paint along the edges of Charlie’s own insecurities, his own unsureness. With bold strokes, it traces Charlie’s worries, outlining them in a way that is undeniable to misinterpret. Even for someone like Nick whose never been very good at understanding art.

         Nick deflates, releasing the air he was holding onto in one breath that sounds like something between a sigh of relief and a laugh. To Nick, he knows it’s both.

         “Charlie, I don’t own the field—”

         “Not literally but—”

         “You’re always well within your right to go to any game you’d like to go. You don’t need an invitation from me.”

         “What if I wanted one?”

         What was that word again that Nick used to describe their relationship? When Charlie speaks in that kind of tongue, it feels pointless to pretend. It feels useless.

         Boundaries! He shouts at himself silently.

         “You know that I’d love for you to be there,” Nick answers, and the line that was once so clearly etched on the sand fades a bit, “I hadn’t mentioned it because I’ve been very, as you said, nervous about it. Guess I was trying to avoid thinking about it as much as possible.”

         “You’re going to do great,” Charlie assures him, his sincerity beaming through the look in his eyes and the firmness of his smile, “especially if I’ll be in the crowd. It’ll be like a good luck charm of sorts.”

         Nick scoffs playfully, “and then you say I have an ego.”

         Charlie giggles, and Nick’s smile grows. The sound has easily become his favorite record.

         “You do,” Charlie says.

         “So do you,” Nick says right back, “so will you go?”

         “I think there’s a ninety-percent chance you’ll see me in the crowd.”

         “Just remember whose tutoring you in French,” Nick playfully teases, “it’s important to be supportive of your friends who are supportive of you.”

         Charlie hums underneath his breath, “Fine, I’ll go. But only because I really need your help in French and not because I care about being supportive. I’m acting purely for self-preservation.”

         Nick knows Charlie’s words hold no actual value. They’re counterfeit. But what knowing Charlie will be there to watch him play does to him is entirely too real.

         “I’ll take it,” Nick admits.

         And just like that, Nick’s illness over what awaits him in two days’ time feels cured.

         Everything about game day feels like a dance that Nick knows all the steps to. It makes sense, considering that Nick has been doing the very same dance for the last three years.

Every first game of the season, the team spend most of their day in bed. It gives them the chance to reset their bodies as well as their minds. Their muscles relax for the first time in weeks while their minds adjust into all the feelings that arise from switching their mindsets from ‘practice mode’ to what coach calls ’game mode.’ Then, two hours before the game, the team meets in the locker rooms. Anyone who still feels their muscles stiffed with exhaustion and overexertion sees the physical therapists while everyone else stretches, slowing waking their muscles up again after a long day of barely using them. They pass water bottles along, each of the members encouraged to drink at least three twelve-ounce bottles before game time to keep them well hydrated. The lads talk, they joke, and words of encouragement can be heard all around the room. Where many of them wouldn’t consider each other friends outside of the team, on game days, they all behave like they’ve been best friend since childhood.  

The biggest difference for Nick this year, which seems to make all the difference, is that he’s had Charlie with him all day. Only by text, which is the way Nick usually has him. But he thinks it’s the only reason he’s gotten his mind somewhat right for the game. Because although he’s doing an all too similar waltz, he can’t seem to stop tripping over his own feet. Something about this season feels different. He’s not sure if it’s the pressure of it being his final amateur season – the reality strike of finally going pro hitting with the force of lightning. Or if it’s something else entirely.

His dad had called him early in the morning. There have been birthdays that Stephane has forgotten to call for, but when it comes to game days – he’s never missed a single one.

“Are you focused, Nick?” he’d asked him right as the conversation was coming to its end.

He’d asked Nick about their game play fifty different ways before the question came. Nick knew it was coming, and yet the tires screeched along the road, bringing him to an unexpected and forceful stop.

         Just as Nick had opened his mouth to answer his dad, a text from Charlie had chimed in.

         Charlie S.: if you think toad is a better option to play in MK than yoshi, I already know I’ll beat you

         He and Charlie had been talking about Mario Kart; a game Nick was starting to learn Charlie was a self-proclaimed pro in. He was also learning Charlie was competitive, and something about that was intriguing to him in a way that maybe it shouldn’t have been. For two people who were friends. And only friends.

         As much of a paradox that it was, the welcomed distraction Charlie’s text and overall presence provided him, allowed Nick to be able to answer his dad on the other line, who no doubt would not hang up the line until Nick gave him the answer he so desperately needed.

         “Yes,” he’d said, sounding sure. His voice unwavering. Whether he was as sure as he appeared was something not even he could answer.

         But it had been enough to appease his dad, which was really all Nick could ask for. They hung up shortly after that, with his dad making a promise to come visit and sit in for a game later in the season. Also, something that wasn’t atypical of him. The beginning of the season was neither promising nor exciting enough for him to attend. He’d wait, until whether Nick and his team could play good and long enough to get to a point in the season where they’d be worthy of his precious time. And whether or not Nick would harvest enough scouts’ attention to get him into the big leagues. Time would tell them both what Nick’s future in rugby held.

         Nick exchanges texts with Charlie until there’s only ten minutes left till the game starts.

         Otis taps Nick’s shoulder with the back of his hand, “you ready, mate?”

         Nick looks up at him, his phone in his hands as he finishes reading Charlie’s last text.

Charlie S.: goodluck!! Enjoy this W because once we start playing MK you’ll be taking many Ls x

It’s the most comforting text he’s ever received before a game – and he’s not sure whether that says a lot about him or a lot about what Charlie means to him. Maybe it’s both.

Nick hearts the message, then locks his phone, throws it in his locker and gets ready to give his speech. It’s another game day ritual – the captain gives a big speech, right before the first game of the season that’s filled with a lot of words that make everyone feel important and memorable. It’s meant to boost everyone’s morale because when people feel like they’re already winners, they tend to become that. A self-fulfilling prophecy of sorts.  Nick’s been doing it for the last two years and usually it’s one of his favorite parts about game day. He’s always enjoyed being lighthouse for their team. Being the leader that guides them all home to victory. Usually, Nick practices his speeches at least five times throughout the day, hoping to not stumble over his words and reveal the false confidence he’s always wished wasn’t disguised under cloaks and daggers. But today, he hasn’t practiced it. Today, he hasn’t rehearsed his words until they feel like second nature to him, ensuring a smooth delivery. Today, it doesn’t feel like it’s ever felt before.

It's just a reminder that something about him is changing, even if he’s not sure what. Or what it means.

His teammates huddle around in a circle, arms looped around one another’s shoulders in comradery. Nick takes a look at all of their expectant and hopeful faces, staring right back at him. He knows what they’re waiting for – those valiant words to leave his mouth to give them all the spirit they need to go out on that field and be the best they can be.

Nick looks at Cristian, hoping to be anchored down by a familiar and welcoming face. Cristian, as always, has a bright smile on his face. Nick uses it as blind faith.

Nick clears his throat, “first game of the season, lads,” he looks around to everyone and no one in particular, “we all know how hard we’ve worked leading up to this. We’ve put every ounce of effort because for a lot of us, this is our last year playing here. Or together. Or at all.”

The words hold more weight than he intended them to, but he can feel the truthiness to them in his rib cage. This is the final season he’ll play with the team he’s been leading for the last two years, and some players he’s known since he was just a freshman with a complete different set of dreams and aspirations. Cristian, Otis, and Sai – who have become more than just teammates and flat mates to him but good and true friends. This is the last time they’ll likely ever start a season together.

“Just know, it’s been an absolute honor. And no matter how this game or the rest of the season goes, I had the time of my life playing this sport with each and every single one of you. Let’s go give them hell, boys!”

Though Nick’s heart doesn’t beat as feverishly for the sport as it once did, it still beats the same for the people he’s made connections with because of it. That is what drives him to give a speech he thought of on a whim. The words come so naturally because they are natural. Whereas before Nick always felt like he needed to give a performance, which was why he spent so long going over every word he articulated and rehearsed like a mad man, this year Nick just speaks on how he feels. And it feels so much better. So much more authentic because it is.

The lads all clap and yell, slapping each other’s shoulders and pumping each other’s fists. The energy in the room is high and Nick knows that they’re going to play a good game, even if it isn’t enough for them to win.

He feels a hand grip his shoulder, “well done, Nelson. Don’t think we’ll ever have another captain like you.”

It’s coach Singh at his side, smiling up at him like a proud mother. It makes Nick feel pride, in himself and his accomplishments. Because two years ago coach Singh thought what many people still think of him – that he was some spoiled kid who expected special treatment because of who his dad is. She made it clear to him from the start that she didn’t give handouts, and if he expected to become captain like his dad told her he needed to become, he needed to earn it. Nick respected her for shutting his dad down, and in a very professional manner, telling him she couldn’t be bought. Gaining and having her respect right back has been one of the most rewarding parts of his journey. Hearing her say she doesn’t think they’ll ever have a better captain is more than he ever thought she’d think of him.

“Thanks, coach,” Nick tells her, his emotions caught in his throat disabling from saying everything else he’s feeling and thinking.

“Let’s do this!” Otis yells to the team, the testosterone easily felt all about the room.

Nick feels that familiar feeling of adrenaline pump through his veins as he and his teammates run through the tunnel, ready to hit the field and hear the crowd clap and yell for them. It’s a home game, which always makes playing more enjoyable because the energy of the crowd is for them, and the team can bounce of it when they’re feeling low.

Nick is the last to ascend from the tunnel, and he waves out to strangers who he’s probably passed in the hallways dozens of hundreds of times. He looks out to the crowd, pretending his eyes are not looking for one particular, familiar face. But his heart knows the truth even if his mind refuses to accept it.

Nick finds him after only a couple of attempts at looking out to the hundreds of faces sitting and standing in the stands. He thinks he could find him in any crowded room with the same amount of ease. No matter the size of the crowd, or the odds stacked against him to do so, Nick’s eyes will always find their way to Charlie’s. Because there’s just something about Charlie Spring that always pulls him in. Even across the field, in a sea of people he could easily blend in with. Get lost in. Nick finds him. And Charlie finds him right back.

Nick’s heart summersaults in his own chest, hurting his rib cage at the sight of him. He’s wearing a green Leeds jumper and his favorite pair of skinny jeans that always leaves so little to Nick’s imagination. But that isn’t what starts the beating of Nick’s heart – it’s the look on his face. He’s smiling like a kid on Christmas morning, all bright eyed and filled with joy. He’s clapping excitedly as the team piles onto the field. On one side of him is Amy, and on the other is Daisy, looking out to the field with a similar look on her face. He’s sure she’s looking out to Cristian. But Nick barely spares her or anyone else around Charlie’s immediate vicinity a glance. The only person he’s fixated on is Charlie. He feels himself stop to stare. Stop and smile back with just as much happiness as he can feel from Charlie, even at such a distance.

In Nick’s mind, everything and everyone else around them fades to black. There’s a spotlight right on Charlie, putting him on full display for Nick. Allowing Nick to trace every detail so his memory never fails him.

He's very well aware friends probably don’t and shouldn’t stand and stare across a field at each other like some sort of star-crossed lovers. Especially when they seem to be mimicking the actions of actual lovers. But that is kind of what they feel like to Nick sometimes – two jets crossing each other’s jet streams under the same sky. Never quite finding the right way to come together but flying under the same moon. He knows that way of thinking is dangerous, in the same way he understands driving under the influence is dangerous. It’s a car crash waiting to happen. Nick can’t stop himself from gripping the wheel though, ready for impact if it allows him another moment of the winding road that is Charlie Spring.

What was that boundary again?

“Nick!” he hears Sai call after him, a few feet ahead of the field.

And that is the only reason Nick moves from where he stands. It is the only reason Nick breaks eye contact. But right before he does, he waves out to Charlie. He could be waving to anyone else in the crowd that’s watching him. But he knows Charlie knows it’s for him. It’s obvious in the way he gives him a small wave right back, a gleeful look on his face like he understands the moment is theirs and no one else’s – even if they’re the only two that know it.

It’s their little secret.

Nick jogs to catch up to the rest of the team who are huddled on the field. They throw their arms around one another once again, each of them ducking their heads as they form a circle and Nick lets Harry Greene obnoxiously shout out words of what only he would consider encouragement. Just to let him feel like he’s actually contributing something.

“Lets go out there and play like men!” he yells, “and give the crowd what they want – which is a fucking victory!”

It does the job, because the rest of their teammates seem properly hyped up about it. They disengage. Coach Singh gives her praises, her own words of encouragement that are far more Nick’s style than Harry’s words were, and then the game begins.

Right before they step out to this field to start kick off, Nick looks back over his shoulder – a couple of bleachers up in the stand, to his left, he finds himself diving into the ocean once again. Another pair of smiles are exchanged, and it’s the most adrenaline Nick could ever get and need from a single glance. His heart beats how it used to on the first game day of the season but this time, it is not lost on him that the reason has entirely nothing to do with the game itself. That the beating of his heart blooms from another sprouting love, one that he keeps telling himself is entirely platonic. Nick’s pretty good at lying to himself sometimes, but he knows it only ever lasts for so long.

He lets the lie that is still running for the time being keep him steady. Just as he looks away, it’s game time.

Nick is at his peak the moment the game starts. He doesn’t fumble a single pass. He is able to make and stick to the correct plays. He assists his team and allows other members to shine but he also goes for it when there’s any opening for him to do so. He’s playing the best rugby he’s probably ever played in his university career. If his dad were in the stands, he knows he’d be proud. He knows he’d be boasting about his son on the field. He knows any train ticket scouts purchased to come out and see him, though he didn’t spot many in the crowd, were well worth the purchase. The worries Nick had about disappointing so many people by not playing good enough rugby, is proving to be outright futile. He’s staring them right in the face and proving them wrong. But there reason why Nick is playing the best rugby of what could be his entire rugby career is not for the reasons he originally wanted to. It’s not because this is his last season as an amateur. It’s not because this is his last season to be scouted. It’s not because he’s hoping his dad is hearing about it somewhere, cursing himself for missing out on the game. It’s all entirely misplaced and for a reason he never even thought possible. Nick is playing the best rugby of his life for the same reason most of his actions these days seem to orbit around.

Charlie Spring.

Knowing Charlie is in the stands watching his first Leeds rugby match makes Nick want to be the best. To impress him. To give him something to think about later. Maybe that way Nick will linger in Charlie’s thoughts as much as Charlie lingers in his. He knows it’s irrational and ill-placed and that he should be playing the game as well as he is for the right reasons. But every time he scores, and he looks up at the stands, and he sees Charlie yelling and clapping like he’s the proudest person on Earth for him, Nick thinks he is.

They play a very good game. In the past, the team’s start has always been rocky. They can win the first match of the season, but it takes a lot of valiant effort and it’s usually never by much. Today, they finish their eighty-two-minute match with a staggering and record-breaking 28-5 run. It’s one hell of a way to start the season, and if Nick was the person he was over six months ago, he would have been on a cloud no one could ever bring him down from. He would’ve roared with the victory. He would’ve puffed his chest and yelled out to the crowd, and he would’ve hoped his dad would grieve what he missed. But something in Nick is undoubtedly different. And so, those very things he would’ve felt, he barely feels. He feels content to win, but only because he sees Charlie’s beaming face in the crowd at the victory. That is the reason the victory feels special and euphoric. It’s the only reason he lets his teammates dump the keg filled with cold water over his head as they violently yell. It’s the only reason he lets them lift him up on their shoulders and carry him around like he’s the king of the field and everyone else needs to bow down to him. He could care less for everyone else’s praises, but he hopes it entices one person to feel proud of him.

Once the theatrics are through and he’s put back down on the ground, Harry Greene is gripping one of his shoulders with a force that could easily be purely aggressive and not at all friendly. Harry’s always had some sort of quiet resentment for him, clear to Nick by certain actions and words. Disguised for Harry as banter. Nick’s always let him off the hook for it, looking the other way like he can’t see past his true intentions. This is just another one of those times.

“Mate, that was fucking insane!” he yells right in his ear, “we fucking destroyed them.”

One thing Nick has learned about bell ends like Harry is that they’re rich on everything – including audacity. It’s really rich of Harry to include himself as an integral part of their victory. As if he is one of members of the team who contributed to it, when the reality is he did very little beside slip on the field and miss a couple of passes. It definitely wasn’t his best game, but Nick decides to let him live in the delusion he usually finds Harry in.

“We did,” Nick gives his best fake smile, “if we play every game like that, we’re a shoe in for finals.”

“For fucking sure, mate,” Harry slaps his shoulder, “I’m so glad I rented out that house for the after party. I mean, even if we lost, we’d have needed the little pick me up, yeah? But it’s so much fucking better now that we just get to keep riding this high, mate!”

Harry’s usually the one to set up all their post-game activities. He’s always been the one to plan it because he likes to splurge on it. Nick appreciates it, to an extent. Even if he’s not necessarily in the partying mood, even if he really just wants to top off his high with the person who placed it there, he knows he can’t miss out. Even if he didn’t necessarily play the game for his teammates, he knows he should’ve. So, of course, he’s going to go celebrate with them.

“Glad you did it too, mate,” Nick lies effortlessly, slipping off his tongue like a truth, “sounds like it’s going to be a great time.”

Harry smiles so ferociously, Nick is almost worried he gave too much praise.

“It sure is,” Harry squeezes his shoulder, “maybe we can ourselves fit little birds to blow off some steam with, huh? We definitely deserve it.”

Nick fights off the urge to roll his eyes. He really should be used to it by now, and usually he is much more tolerable of Harry’s antics because he is used to the stupidity that leaves his mouth. But that tolerance has been dwindling as of late. Harry always has something idiotic or misogynistic or somewhere in between both to say and Nick’s always let it slide off him like it’s no big deal. He lets it go this time again, but this time, he leaves claw marks behind as he does.  

“Sure, mate,” is all he says in return, and then he’s pulling away from Harry and ending it there.

He finds Cristian first, and they share a brief but forceful hug. He does the same with Otis and Sai after and then once he’s gone around giving enough fist bumps to keep the rest of the team satiated, he goes to try and find the person that will satiate him.

The crowds are clearing as everyone that was occupying them begins to leave the stadium now that the game is over. Just as Nick looks through the swarm of people huddled like sardines as the shuffle out, the universe does what it usually does. Under unforeseen circumstances, it brings him to Charlie with little resistance. Just as Nick catches sight of him, Charlie, Daisy and their group of friends consisting of Jess, Amy, Tara and Darcy, come to the sidelines. Daisy runs into Cristian’s arms like they’re in some sort of romance film, and Nick only watches momentarily as they share a passionate kiss on the field. Nick hasn’t really asked Cristian much about Daisy since the last time he saw her, which happened to be the same time Cristian made Nick have an existential crisis. The same one that brought Charlie to his doorstep. Cristian hasn’t brought her around the flat since then, but he’s gone most nights and always has a goofy, lovestruck look on his face when he’s texting on his phone. Nick’s assumed things have kept going and that they’ve kept going well. Given Cristian’s dating history, he’s sure their expiration date is fast approaching, but regardless of that, Cristian seems happy for the moment. That much is not up for debate.

His attention is quickly redirected to where his soul and his heart are always pulled towards.

Nick and Charlie lock eyes like it’s their birthright. The smile that spreads on both of their faces are reflections of one another.

         Without needing to think about it, their feet gravitate towards one another, closing the space between them like it never belonged there in the first place. Once Charlie is standing right in front of him, Nick feels the very same happiness he always feels he’s chasing but he can only ever find in Charlie’s presence. It’s like all he can see and feel when they’re that close is Charlie. The strings of his hearts attached to parts of Charlie that he’s still discovering. He’s only faintly aware that they’re not actually the only two people on the field. But that doesn’t seem important enough.

         “Hi,” Charlie greets him, his cheeks pink. Nick can’t tell if that’s because of the temperature or something completely unrelated.

         “Hi,” Nick says back, “you came.”

         “’Course I did,” Charlie says easily, “Daisy and Amy, you know. Very persistent. Wouldn’t have let me stay home.”

         “Ah,” Nick says, a faint smile on his lips at Charlie’s half-truths, “of course, of course. I’m sure that’s the only reason you came.”

         “Why else would I have come?”

         “No idea. I guess there would be no other reason.”

         Charlie breaks character first. He giggles, and Nick knows he can never tire of that sound by now. Anytime he hears the sound, it’s the closest his heart ever comes to exploding.

         “I’m mostly teasing,” Charlie relents, “I really wanted to see you play too.”

         Nick tries to keep the beating of his heart steady, “did you now? And what did you think?”

         Charlie’s smile deepens, the dimples that haunt Nick so stunningly making an appearance, “I think I now really understand why everyone refers to you as the rugby king,” he says, “people say it all the time, but I didn’t really understand just how much you deserved that title ‘till tonight. You were amazing.”

         The words threaten all of Nick’s hard-set boundaries. Because they’re all Nick was playing so well for. Hearing them is confirmation, it’s validation. It makes his ribcage hurt with feeling.

         “Thank you,” Nick manages to get out, despite the emotions filling his insides, “I don’t usually play this well. I guess I was just,” really trying to impress you, “pumped.”

“Don’t be modest.”

         “I’m not. You know I have an ego.”

         Charlie giggles again and Nick laughs too, and everything about the night is already so much better. It’s a greater victory than the match.

         Once their laughter dies down, it’s quiet between them for a moment. They just smile at one another, the moment tattooing itself into their memories with careful precision.

         It’s Charlie that interrupts their moment of silent adoration.

         “So, uhm,” he starts, “I assume you have some big celebration plans? You must after a game like that.”

         By Charlie’s words, Nick’s reminded of Harry Greene’s planned celebration that he has very little interest in attending. He contemplates it, even if just for a fleeting moment – dumping Harry’s plan altogether and leaving it to the wolves. Making plans he won’t have to force himself to have a good time in. Plans with Charlie, which could be as simple as getting ice cream again or sitting underneath the stars on the field once everyone else is gone and talking about everything and nothing. But he knows he can’t. He does have some responsibility to his team, and part of that responsibility is showing up. But he also has some sort of responsibility to himself. Charlie has been monumental in reminding him of that.

         That’s how Nick finds himself saying, “we’re having a bit of a celebratory party at some house Harry rented near campus. I’m not too sure who will be there but,” he braces himself for impact, “you should come.”

         He waits for Charlie’s response to assess the landing – it can either go very smoothly or be a deadly collision. Deadly only to his emotions, of course.

         He watches the subtle cues of Charlie’s features that will give away what he’s thinking – whether he’ll humor Nick or reject him entirely. Charlie’s eyes widen only a smidge, his resolve slipping only for a second. If Nick wasn’t always so fixated on every look that ever crossed his face, he surely would’ve missed it. Unluckily for Charlie, he notices everything about him.

         “Should I?” Charlie asks, then he releases a breathy laugh that Nick has already come to recognize as one of Charlie’s nervous laughs. He doesn’t know when he started to know all of Charlie’s quirks and mannerisms like the back of his hand, just that it’s started to happen.

         “Why not?” Nick gives a noncommittal shrug, trying to appear as if his insides aren’t on fire waiting for Charlie to either set him ablaze or make him feel cool again, “It should be fun and I’d – well, I’d love to be able to celebrate with you.”

         That was super platonic! Way to go! the voice in his mind mocks him.

         So, it doesn’t sound purely platonic. He can live with that, if it’s eases Charlie into attending.

         Charlie doesn’t answer right away. Nick can tell he’s contemplating in his head, going over his options. The anticipation makes Nick shift on his feet.

         “I’d like to celebrate with you too, I’m just not sure if it’s my… vibe?”

         It isn’t Nick’s either, which is exactly why he wants him there. Nick is about to tell Charlie as much, but then they’re interrupted by Amy.

         She comes to Charlie’s side and faces Nick. She raises her chin in greeting towards him.

         “Good game, Nelson,” she compliments him in true Amy fashion – where it barely feels like a compliment, “I’ve come to a couple of your matches in the past. Don’t think I’ve ever seen you play that good. Newfound motivation, perhaps?”

         She raises a questioning brow at him, but the look in her eyes tells him she already knows the answer. Nick can feel his cheeks grow hot underneath her assumptions and loud accusations, and he’s grateful that he just played a physically taxing game to have to blame it on.

         “Amy,” Charlie says, like he’s her father chastising her for misbehaving in public.

         Before it can turn into a thing, that it certainly isn’t because of boundaries, Nick says, “I was actually just telling Charlie that I usually don’t play that well. Must’ve been something in the air.”

         “Or, you know. Some—”

         “Nick was inviting me to an afterparty at some house Harry Greene rented outside of campus,” Charlie cuts her off, his voice an octave higher than what would be deemed natural.

         It catches Nick slightly off guard, but Amy doesn’t seem the least bit put off by it.

         “Oh,” Amy says, “the invite is exclusive just to Charlie, is it?”

         “Of course not,” Nick quickly says, although that was how his intentions had started, “you’re invited as well. All of you are,” Nick says, gesturing to the rest of their friend group – Tara, Darcy, and Jess – standing closer than they had been minutes ago and surely hearing the conversation, “I’m sure Daisy is going as well.”

         Amy nods her head continuously, an all too knowing smile on her face that makes Nick as nervous as it usually does.

         “I’m sure she is since she’s actually dating one of the guys on the team,” she replies. Before Nick or Charlie can say anything to that, she continues, “but since you invited Charlie first, I’ll let him decide. We did have some plans for the night, but. I’m down for whatever.”

         Charlie gives Amy a look, but it’s quick and gone before Nick can fully decode it. Then he looks back at Nick. Nick tries not to look back at him with pleading eyes, but he also hopes Charlie can see, with one look, just how much he needs him to be there. Given how much of Charlie has been able to read off Nick with such little intel in the past, something tells him Charlie can see right through him.

         “It sounds like it could be fun,” Charlie says, and the fires that have been burning Nick inside are gone. With just a few words from Charlie, he’s blown them all away. The smoke is gone, the fresh air he’s been breathing in for the last two weeks, back in his lungs.

         “It will be,” Nick assures him, trying not to sound too eager to do so, “should we all maybe catch an Uber together then?”

         Charlie lets him down gently, “we did have some plans to go to a queer bar off campus, and I think we should still do that just cut it short to head to the after party after. So, maybe we can just meet up there?”

         “Yeah, of course,” Nick says, just content with Charlie agreeing to go.

         “See you there, then?”

         Nick can’t help but smile, “yes. See you there.”

         “See you there, Nelson,” Amy chimes in and then she’s turning her body towards where Cristian and Daisy are still entangled in one another, “oi! Leave some of your sex chronicles to the imagination. We’re heading to the queer bar and then to these lads’ after party.”

         That catches Daisy’s attention enough to where she detaches her mouth from Cristian’s and turns to Amy excitedly “you’re going?”

         “Nick’s convinced Charlie, and Charlie’s convinced us.”

         Daisy yells in excitement and the rest of their friends look slightly confused by the turn of events but not fazed by it.

         Charlie and Nick share a look, one that doesn’t need words to be understood. Nick likes that they can do that with one another. Almost as much as he likes that he gets to spend of the night basking in Charlie’s company.

         As friends of course.

         Nick doesn’t waste too much of his time getting ready for the after party. It isn’t because there’s no one to impress – there’s definitely one person whose breath he’d like to hitch when they catch sight of him. But more than his desire to elicit such a response from Charlie, is his desire to be able to bask in the sun that is Charlie Spring. The very same one that always warms his skin, reminds him of times in childhood when things were simpler, and Nick wasn’t so terrified of the things he didn’t understand.

         He showers in record time. He dries his hair fairly quickly, putting only enough product to make it stay in place so it doesn’t stick up funnily or fall into his face too much. He throws on his favorite Leeds Rhino hoodie and a pair of deep blue jeans. He finishes off his look by putting on his classic white high top chuck sneakers and he’s satisfied with his appearance. He, Sai, Otis and Cristian have all decided to share an Uber to Harry’s rented house, so he waits for them to finish getting ready in their kitchen while drinking a beer. He knows there’ll be plenty of alcohol at the party, but he needs something to take a bit of the edge off. He’s excited to get to spend the night with Charlie, but there are also butterflies outlining his stomach that bring nerves he always tries so hard to keep dormant to life.

         Friends? Remember that?

         Nick’s trying his best to.

         The boys take longer to get ready than Nick by a decent amount, and it’s about forty-minutes after Nick’s done before they’re ready to start heading out of the flat. He doesn’t berate them for it, knowing that he got ready at an unfair, lightning speed. As they head out, he texts Charlie to let him know they are. They haven’t been texting as much since they both left the field and the stadium – Charlie busy drinking with his friends and Nick busy trying to get ready at record time to see him – but he did promise to let him know when they were heading out so they could arrive at relatively the same time.

         He’s locking up the flat behind them when Cristina comes to his side, “Daisy is super happy that you invited Charlie and their mates to the party tonight. I think she was feeling awkward about it before.”

         “Oh,” Nick turns the key in the lock, not wanting to look directly Cristian just yet for the fear that he’ll see his own selfish reasons for doing what he did written on his face, “why do you think that?” Nick asks, not wanting to draw too much attention to his invitation to Charlie for the same reason he can’t meet his eye.  

         “I don’t know, I think she just feels a little like she doesn’t fit in with some of our group,” Cristian says, and he sticks by Nick’s side even when Nick has finished locking their door and turned to start walking.

         “I guess that makes sense,” Nick says, understanding why she’d feel that way a little too much. Sometimes he feels that way himself. Like ever since he discovered something about him was different than the rest of his friends, the rest of his teammates, he suddenly doesn’t fit in as easily as he did before. He doesn’t voice those thoughts out loud, of course. Cristian’s still not someone he’s willing to have that kind of conversation with.

         “Yeah,” Cristian says, “so thanks for that. She loves all of them, but she absolutely adores Charlie. She’s always going on about how awesome he is.”

         Nick hums, unsure of how to sing his praises about Charlie without unlocking things he’d rather keep stored away. He needs to, especially from prying ears and eyes. He begs for Cristian to drop it there, but given who his friend is, he’s not sure it’ll be a possibility.

         “Who’s awesome?” Sai asks, turning his head slightly to look over at Cristian as they all begin walking as a group to the edge of campus to call their Uber.

         For fuck’s sake, Nick curses internally.

         “Charlie,” Cristian answers easily, “he’s a friend of Daisy’s. He was the drummer for ‘Sapphic Cowgirls’ on music night.”

         “Oh, curly haired lad?” Sai asks for clarification.

         “Isn’t he also our neighbor? Rooms with Amy and Jess?” Otis adds on to the conversation.

         Nick wants the ground to swallow him the longer the conversation continues, scared it’ll take a turn down a street he doesn’t want to drive down with these passengers.

         “That’s the one!” Cristian confirms, to Nick’s horror.

         “He was at the game tonight, wasn’t he? With their group?” Otis questions.

         “Yeah,” Cristian confirms, “he was. And then Nick invited them to the after party which is honestly great for Daisy because I think it’s helped with her anxiety about the whole thing.”

         Nick can feel the moment slipping out of his control, the narrative spiraling into words he never wrote. He keeps calm though, trying not to let the panic about his true feelings, his true intentions behind the whole thing, be uncovered.

         “You invited Charlie?” Sai asks, and it’s clear from his tone he doesn’t understand the reasoning behind it.

         “They’re pretty good mates,” Cristian answers for Nick, like he has any actual clue what Charlie and Nick are, “aren’t you?”

         He feels three pair of eyes on him as they reach the end of campus, simultaneously coming to a stop just as Nick really wants the entire conversation to end. Nothing about what Cristian has said is untrue, nor is it something he’s trying to keep secret. It’s everything underneath it that he wants to keep to himself. That he’s scared if he talks too loudly, too proudly, too openly about he won’t be able to. But if he avoids it altogether, he knows it’ll be just as obvious. Nick scrambles to find a middle ground that will sound both convincing and unharming.

         “Yeah,” Nick swallows, “I guess we are? He helps me with history coursework, and I help him with his French coursework.”

         Nick’s gotten so good at telling half-truths throughout the years it sounds convincing enough even though it isn’t half the truth. Not even a quarter. He’s massively downplayed their relationship, but he couldn’t think of any other way to just end it. He feels disappointment in himself. Hot shame burning all the progress he’s made in the last two weeks like it wasn’t ever real. Or worse, that it was, but it can be so easily dismantled.

         “Cool,” Sai says.

         Before the conversation can continue, Nick changes it entirely, “I think we should call the Uber. I’ll get this one and one of you gets the one back?”

         “We can split both,” Cristian offers.  

         “Just split the one back amongst you three,” Nick tells them, “I can pay for this one on my own.”

         They only protest a bit after that but eventually let it be. They know Nick would’ve done it even if they’d continue to fight it. Just like they know Nick will likely pay for the ride back on his own too. Nick’s always been generous with his money with his friends. He’s aware he has more funds than most people he surrounds himself with. Way more than he needs. It’s the least his dad could do, so it’s the one thing Nick has always exploited a bit.

         The Uber arrives shortly after Nick calls it. The car ride over the lads ask their driver to connect Otis’ phone, and they jam to loud American rap that hypes them up for the night ahead of them. Nick tries to be in the moment, but his mind keeps wandering off to thoughts about Charlie. About seeing him again. Spending the night by his side. The conflicting emotions crash into one another. On one ocean’s end he finds nothing but dreadful anticipation, nerves that make him double-guess his choices. On the other, he finds blissful longing. A maze of wonder that leads him through warm fondness.

         He tries to shut his mind off and tries to lean into the more positive emotions that seem to be overtaking all his friend's. His friends are on cloud nine by the time they arrive to the house, while Nick is still unsure how he feels. He thinks it’s a solid mixture of hopeful and worrisome anticipation. His palms have started to sweat with the nerves, and as he pulls out his phone to text Charlie, he swipes them on his jeans to secure his grip.

         Otis is commenting on his awe of the size of the house as Nick types off a quick text to Charlie letting him know they’ve made it to the house. When Nick looks up and onwards to see what Otis is so impressed by, he understands. The house is about three stories tall and looks more like a mansion than it does just a house. Harry really does always outdo himself when it comes to these things.

         “Are your girls and her friends almost here?” Sai asks.

         Cristian looks at Nick, “was that Charlie you just texted?”

         Nick feels like a spotlight has been lit above him.

         “Uhm,” to his own ears, he sounds unsure, “yeah. But maybe you should call Daisy.”

         As Nick tries to throw it back on Cristian, his phone buzzes in his pocket. Though the music is blaring inside the house, it can only be faintly heard where they stand outside. It’s quiet enough that they all hear the text come in. Nick has no way of avoiding reaching for his phone and checking it.

         He does so, though his hands tremble slightly with everyone’s eyes watching him.

         Charlie S.: TOOK U LONG ENOUGH!!

         lol jk. we’re going to call the Uber now. we’re not that far from the address you sent me so we should be there in like 10 min.

         Nick: Okay! See you here :)

Nick types out quickly and without thinking, hoping his face is neutral as he does it.

         He looks up at his friend’s expectant faces. Sometimes he wishes they wouldn’t always rely on him, even for the simplest of things.

         “He says they’re leaving now. Should be here in around ten minutes, so what would you like to do, Cristian?”

         “Mate, I love you and your relationship that I ever first supported,” Sai points out, “but I’m not waiting out here for ten minutes. I’m heading inside.”

         Nick’s grateful someone else in the group has taken some initiative, even if it’s not necessarily the decision he’d like to make. He’s just not sure there’s going to be much for him to enjoy inside without Charlie. But he waits for Cristian to say something, to be the one to first show interest in waiting outside so then he can just be the good friend that waits with him and not the one with the actual desire to.

         “I’m with Sai,” Otis says, “sorry, Cristian.”

         Nick stays silent, looking at Cristian waiting for him to say the words.

         The words don’t come. Instead, Cristian looks to Nick with the same eyes he always does when he’s looking for his guidance. And Nick just knows he won’t make a decision until Nick does. He can feel Sai and Otis’ eyes on him too. He could offer to wait outside with Cristian if that’s something Cristian would like, but he also feels like he’d give himself away as the one who wants to wait if he does. His fear of being found out by his friends triumphs his desire to wait for Charlie to head inside. It’s not necessarily a proud moment for him.

         “Same,” Nick says, reluctance clawing at his throat as the words escape.

         “Yeah, we can always just meet them inside,” Cristian says, easily resigning himself to his friends’ wants.

         And Nick feels like the worst friend for judging him for it, when he’s just done the same thing.

         Just like that, Nick knows the first couple of minutes of his night are not going to go as he’d like them to. Without Charlie around, he fears there will be very little for him to care for. But he follows his friends inside the house anyway, like it was the only choice that mattered. The inside of the house is as impressionable as the outside, with chandelier ceilings and fancy wall art. There’s not much else of it he can see, as the place is extremely crowded. Bodies sticking to one another without a sliver of space in between. The lights are purposefully dimmed as strobe lights that were carefully placed in the corner of the rooms provide most of the obscure and fleeting lighting. Colors of green and red light up the faces making up the crowd. The music is even louder inside, to a volume of noise that would make it impossible for anyone to hold a conversation even as close and personal as they all seem to be due to the limited space. The speakers are playing something techno and upbeat that makes everyone dance as best they can despite their limitations.

         Nick immediately would like to be anywhere else but there. He swallows that though, knowing the only thing he’s been looking forward to all night is minutes away from being his. The guys stand around, taking in their surroundings. Nick stands around with them, not really caring to move too far from the door. Just waiting for Charlie to walk through it at any given minute.

         “This place is massive!” Sai yells over the music.

         The boys nod in agreement.

         “Should we go find where they have the drinks?” Otis screams over the music as well, leaning in so they can hear him.

         “Hell yeah!” Sai agrees.

         Nick intrinsically groans as his friends finally taking an initiative is coming at a cost to his own convenience. But once Cristian nods with a smile in agreement as well, Nick goes along with the group. Otis starts leading the way, but the crowd is too large and there’s too little space for him to maneuver them through it effectively. Nick, becoming a bit irritated at his friend being shoved back and them making very little progress, ends up taking the lead. He’s bigger than the rest of them. Not so much by height but definitely by build and weight, so he’s able to get through the crowd with ease. Looking over people’s heads, he’s able to find what he believes is the kitchen area and leads them to it.

         He’s happy to find the area not as crowded but just as spacious as what he’s seen from the house so far. The music is also not so loud in the kitchen. It’s still loud, but some sort of conversation can be had. The lightning is also brighter, white lights hanging over the ceiling, and there’s a beautiful granite countertop island with an array of drinks at the center. Just as the boys go for the drinks, Nick spots a familiar face. Not the one he’s waiting for, but still one that warms him to see.

         “Imogen!” he calls out in greeting.

         She’s making herself a drink when he catches her attention. Once she realizes he’s the one who’s called for her, she drops the cup in her hands and opens her arms wide to signal him to come in for a hug. He does with ease.

         “Nicky!” she says excitedly as her arms wrap around his shoulders, “I knew I’d see you here.”

         Nick chuckles as their arms release one another, “I mean, I am the captain of the team.”

         “Yeah, yeah,” she dismisses him, “I’m sorry I couldn’t make the game. I was working at the bar – as if anyone would have been there while the game was going on! But I got out enough in time to make it to this and was really hoping you’d complete your captainly duties.”

         “You know I always do.”

         “Mm,” Imogen smiles up at him, and then she’s looking behind him to Sai, Otis, and Cristian who he hadn’t noticed were still stuck behind him, watching their whole exchange. Nick turns his body so he’s blocking her from their view, but the look he sees on his friend’s faces is one he recognizes. Sai and Otis look smug, while Cristian looks slightly uncomfortable. Immediately, he knows they’ve misread their interaction.

         Imogen gives them a friendly wave, including Cristian.

         “Hello boys,” she smiles sweetly at all of them, because Imogen never really held a grudge against Cristian over the way things ended between them, “good game, yeah? Ready to celebrate your grand victory?”

         “We sure are,” Sai replies first.

         “We’ve really got our captain to thank,” Otis adds, “you should’ve seen him. Probably played the best rugby he’s ever played.”

         Imogen looks at Nick and raises a brow, “is that so?”

         Nick shrugs modestly, though he knows it’s mostly true, “I was feeling motivated.”

         By what, he doesn’t specify.

         “Well, it is the year to get scouted,” Imogen reminds them, “all you boys should be playing your best game.”

         “We’re not all as talented, I fear,” Otis says.

         “Work harder, then!” Imogen replies, her bluntness never missing an opportunity to present itself.

         “All right, Imogen?” Cristian awkwardly asks, standing a bit to the side.

         Imogen gives him a simple smile, “yeah! How about you, Cris?”

         “Good, yeah,” he gives her a soft smile, and a part of Nick knows he’ll always feel bad for how things ended between them. They were all close friends before, and though Imogen holds no ill will towards Cristian for falling out of love with her as quickly as he fell for her, things have never been quite the same since then. Which is understandable but doesn’t stop it from being unfortunate.

         “Well, I’m going to make myself a drink and go back out there to dance my ass off,” she announces, then she turns to Nick and puts a gentle hand on his forearm, “hopefully I’ll see you out there later?”

         Nick’s not sure anyone will see much of him once Charlie gets there, but he tells her the opposite.

         “Yeah, definitely.”

         She gives a smile then turns to make her own drink. Nick grabs a cup for himself to do the same but feels his friends awkwardly hovering around waiting for Imogen to finish. To not make anything weirder than it already feels, he hands them all a cup as well.

         Once Imogen is done fixing herself a drink, she yells a quaint “bye!” over her shoulder to all of them as she exits the kitchen.

         Otis is the first to make a comment.

         He whistles under his breath, “mate.” He shakes his head with a devious smile on his face that says he knows something. Though there isn’t anything to know.

         Nick rolls his eyes in annoyance, ready to shut down whatever ideas any of them are getting in their heads about Nick and Imogen. Sometimes his friends are such lads they can’t see past their own misguided ideologies.

         “I definitely think she’s into you,” Sai says before Nick can correct any of them.

         Nick opens his mouth to bring logic into the conversation when Cristian speaks.

         “You know it’d be okay with me, right? Like. I wouldn’t care. I’ve got Daisy now anyway.”

         Cristian says the words with as much clarity as he can muster, but the darting looks in his eyes gives away his discomfort at the entire idea. Nick knows it’s not because he’s still hung up on Imogen – it wouldn’t make sense given he was the one who cut the whole thing off and left her for the next girl. But there’s obviously still something very strange about dating a friend’s ex-anything.

         Nick puts it all to a stop.

         “Me and Imogen are just friends,” Nick says sternly, “she’s nice and bubbly and kind to everyone. Not just me. Why do you think her, and Cristian hit it off so quickly? Which, speaking of, I’d never do that given how fucking weird that is. So, please none of you make that a thing. I happen to like Imogen as a friend and wouldn’t want to make shit weird.”

         There’s a brief silence that comes over them as the boys give each other looks.

         “We’re sorry, mate,” Sai apologizes, “we just – I mean I just felt a vibe.”

         “There’s no vibe,” Nick says, knowing full well he’s right. When he calls Imogen a friend, the word fits them like a glove.

         “Alright,” Sai puts his hands up, “sorry.”

         “Stop apologizing,” Nick gives a small, forceful laugh, just enough to get his friends to not make it a bigger deal than what it is, “I just wanted to clarify before you lot made it into something that it isn’t.”

         “Fair,” Otis says.

         “Let’s just make some drinks, and enjoy the night,” Nick offers, and as they always do, they follow his lead.

         Nick’s mixing coke and rum when his phone vibrates continuously in his pocket. He fishes it out with his free hand, swiping on the three texts from Charlie that have just come in. His heart rate picks up, the pounding in his chest taking over the pounding of the music that can be heard all throughout the house.

         Charlie S.: we’re here!!

         holy shit this place is huge

         and also very crowded inside lol. where are you?

         Nick clears his throat, feeling something stuck inside of it. He’s sure it’s a piece of his own heart. The other piece is waiting for him somewhere inside the same four walls he finds himself in.

         “They’re here,” Nick says to collective group.

         He looks up and finds Cristian putting his own phone away. He probably got texts from Daisy at the same time Nick got texts from Charlie. The parallels to their circumstances despite the stark differences in their relationships is not lost on Nick, but he pretends it is anyway. It’s easier that way.

         “Yeah, Daisy just texted me too,” Cristian tells them, “We should go out there and find them.”

         “Yeah,” Nick agrees, “everyone got their drink?”

         “I think I’ll wait in here,” Sai says.

         “Me too,” Otis joins him, “I want to take advantage that people are not crowding the liquor to get some in my system before going back out there.”

         Nick nods but doesn’t decide to stay behind this time. It’s not as odd anymore if he helps Cristian find his girl and her group of friends now that they’ve finally arrived.

         “We’ll be back,” Nick tells Otis and Sai and then he and Cristian are maneuvering out of the kitchen into the common area of the house. It’s just as crowded as it had been moments before when they arrived. Nick tries for a brief moment to let Cristian lead the way, but everyone around them pushes and shoves and just like when they came in, and it doesn’t allow him to move through the crowd. Plus, there’s just something about the way that Nick can spot Charlie in any room that could be put to good use in a scenario like they’re one they’re in. He lets those invisible strings do the work for him. Like there’s some sort of magical power to it, the strobe of lights reflect off a head of dark curls that Nick knows belong to one person in particular.

         Nick’s smile at the sight of him in instantaneous and he’s very thankful that Cristina can’t see his facial expression when his back is to him.

         He angles his body only slightly backwards to look over at Cristian, “they’re over there!” he yells over the music and points his finger in the vague direction of where he’s just spotted Charlie.

         Bulldozing through the crowd is easier once he’s found new motivation. Everything in his life becomes easier when it centers around Charlie.

         Charlie and his friends are still moving in the crowd, probably trying to find a comfortable spot for them to park in. With how crowded the place is, Nick doesn’t think they’ll find it. But he speeds up, trying to catch Charlie before he continues to thread through people. He doesn’t even bother to make sure Cristian is keeping up with him. He’s like a racehorse with visors on. He only has one prize on his mind.

         He reaches his prize and claims it with a gentle touch to an elbow. It’s enough to catch Charlie’s attention. He turns his head, a perplexed expression etching itself onto his features. Nick watches at the expression changes in real time. His furrowed eyebrows iron out, and the confused glint in his eyes turns with recognition. But not just recognition, happiness too. Even in the dim lighting, it’s undeniable. And then his mouth that had been spread into a thin line seconds ago morphs into that very same smile that turns all of Nick’s nightmares into dreams.

         “I was looking for you,” Charlie says, and he’s talking an octave higher than he usually does so Nick can hear him, but Nick’s not sure it’s necessary. Now that he’s in Charlie’s presence, nothing else feels as loud, “I had texted you, but you hadn’t responded so I—”

         Nick steps into his space a bit more, “I know. I saw the text and came out here to look for you too.”

         When Charlie stares up at him like he is now, his dark lashes bordering his deep blue eyes causing depths of desire to show themselves in the pit of Nick’s stomach, Nick thinks about his easy it would be to cup his face in his hands and flutter those same eyes closed. At the very same moment Nick’s lips met Charlie’s. The thought takes him over in the moment, although he knows that where they stand would be the worst place for him to give into his fatal fantasies.

         Any place would be the worst place to let that happen because friends shouldn’t be going around kissing each other, his logic berates him.

         “Well, you found me.”

         “I did.”

         The chemistry sizzles between them. And just as Nick thinks he should extinguish it, but makes no move to, Amy does the work for them.

         Pressing herself into Charlie’s side and making herself visible to Nick, she pierces through, “where the fuck can we find some liquor here? If I’ve got to deal with this many bodies, I need more alcohol!”

         Nick laughs, because as abrasive as Amy is, he actually enjoys her directness.

         “Come,” he moves around them, placing his hand gently on Charlie’s shoulder as to not have him stumble as he does. He does not let himself think about the jolts of electricity that run through him as their bodies press against one another as he moves around him either. He’s a bit thankful now that they’re constrained on space.

         “Follow me,” he tells Charlie and Amy as he begins to part the crowds of people to lead them to the kitchen where he just was.

         Nick doesn’t expect Charlie to place his hand around his elbow, tethering him to Nick as they walk. He tries not to let his feet fail him at the unexpected contact, and trucks along. He tells himself Charlie does it simply not to get lost in the crowd as Nick guides them and not for any other reason.

         By the time they get to the kitchen, Nick is happy to find it’s as empty as it was when they left it. Sai and Otis are still hanging around, both of them laughing at something when they walk in. When Nick turns, he’s ready to re-introduce Charlie and Amy, but is surprised to find that it seems their entire friend group has followed them to the kitchen. Piling in are Jess, Tara, Darcy, Daisy and Cristian.

         “Holy fuck this place is filled with people,” Darcy says, looking relieved to be out of the crowd, “thank fuck there’s multiple floors here. I don’t think I could be out there all night.”

         “This is ten times worse than any club I’ve ever been to,” Jess agrees.

         “Do you usually have this big of a turn out or is your unusual, good game play tonight to blame?” Amy asks the boys, but she’s looking right at Nick.

         “I wouldn’t say it’s unusual,” Nick tries to defend himself, though he’s well aware that he doesn’t always play such dazzling rugby, “so I would say this is the usual turn out.”

         “I disagree with the first half of your statement, so I will conclude the second half is a lie.”

         She doesn’t let Nick give her another response. She walks off right to the center of the granite-countertop island and starts fixing herself a drink. She greets Sai and Otis with a low effort wave and Nick can’t help but snicker.

         “You really did play a great game today,” Tara says, “if you boys continue to play like that, you’re definitely going to the finals.”

         “That’s definitely the idea,” Cristian tells her, his arms wrapped around Daisy’s middle, pressing her back to his front.

         At the sight of them, Nick feels an unusual burst of jealousy spread through his chest like poison. He’s not sure what exactly he’s jealous of. Maybe it’s the openness of their relationship. Maybe it’s the mere existence of it.

         “I think we’re making it no matter what,” Otis gives his two cents, “this is our last year – we’ve got something to prove.”

         His words strike a chord inside Nick. One that sends anxiety spiraling through his every nerve ending. He’d rather be talking about anything else other than rugby and the expectations for the rest of the season their first game has set. Or what the future in the sport holds for any of them. He may have his future clearly played out for him, but it doesn’t mean he’s comfortable facing it often.

         He tries to switch the subject as smoothly as possible, without giving away his discomfort.

         “How was the place you guys were at before this?”

         “Super fun!” Tara bubbly replies.

         “Definitely not as crowded at this,” Darcy adds.

         “Charlie was certainly having fun,” Amy pours a generous amount of vodka into two cups, looking up at Charlie as she does, “but, being the good friend he is – he traded it in for this.”

         Nick’s not the brightest crayon in the box, but even he could read between Amy’s cryptic lines. He’s picking up exactly what she’s putting down. The kind of ‘fun’ Charlie was having before they got there was the kind of fun that involved someone else. Someone else who probably ran their hands through curves and edges of Charlie’s body Nick will never have the luxury of knowing in the same way.

         The embers of jealousy he felt watching the closeness between Daisy and Cristian bursts into a raging flame at the mental image of Charlie’s physical closeness with someone else.

         He knows friends shouldn’t feel that much jealousy towards their friends. He never felt that kind of jealousy whenever he saw Imogen with Cristian, or whenever he’s seen her with anyone else since. Drawing comparison between his friends is making it harder for him to ignore that him that there is no part of him that voluntarily wants to be just friends with Charlie Spring.

         “Stop it,” Charlie chastises Amy, “this is exactly where I want to be.”

         The words do nothing to soothe the burning flames of Nick’s jealousy that threaten to undo any boundary he’s created. Threaten to make Nick forget why he even created it in the first place.

         He remains quiet though, sipping on his drink like it’s water to keep his hands busy. To keep his mind from spiraling. He uses the alcohol as a crutch to numb the thoughts that knock at the door he refuses to open.

         It’s for Charlie’s own good, he reminds himself. Hoping it’s enough.

         Nick hangs back as the rest of their group fixes themselves drinks and chat about nothing in particular. He makes himself another drink before they begin to disperse out of the kitchen, the space becoming crowded with other party guests that don’t belong to their group. Jess, Daisy, Cristian, Sai and Otis opt to remain downstairs, enjoying the techno beats of the music blaring through the speakers. Charlie, Amy, Tara, Darcy and himself opt to explore other floors of the three-story house, wanting to get a bit away from such large crowds and loud music.

         They ascend the stairs to the second floor and are all a bit surprised and relieved that there’s far less people occupying the space. It’s still not anywhere near empty, but there’s at least space for people to move more freely. To be able to dance. And the music is also different from the music playing on the first floor. It’s far more pop-radio, and Nick recognizes the song playing as being one of Dua Lipa’s. He vaguely knows it, but it seems to be all the inspiration Amy needs to let loose. She immediately grabs Tara and Darcy, dragging them to the open space to dance, leaving Charlie and Nick to stand next to one another more near the walls. Nick distracts himself by watching Amy. He’s still not sure he can look at Charlie and not show him the flames of jealousy he can still feel the searing pain of. So, he chuckles as he watches Amy move freely, waving her hands in the air and spinning in circles. Her movements are a disoriented mess, and Nick admires Amy’s ability to always be herself and have fun. There’s a lot that lives in her that he wishes lived in him.

         “You are two are not exempt!” she yells over to Charlie and Nick, “you better come over here and dance!”

         Nick’s never been a good dancer. As much coordination as rugby takes, he has very little when it comes to dancing.

         He waves her off, “no, no.”

         “You don’t like to dance?” he hears Charlie ask beside him.

         Nick, still scared Charlie will see through him like he always does, turns his head to look at him. He has a small smile on his face. One that doesn’t allow Nick to disappoint him.

         “I’m just absolute rubbish at it,” he earnestly tells Charlie.

         Charlie lifts a shoulder, “who cares? Believe me, none of us are professionals. It’s just for fun.”

         Charlie doesn’t allow Nick to formulate an argument against him. In a swift movement, he’s standing in front of him. He puts his hand out for Nick to take and Nick thinks it’s unfair. There are very few things in life he’d say no to Charlie Spring for. So, reluctantly, he places his hand with feather-soft pressure in Charlie’s, and lets Charlie drag him to where Tara, Darcy and Amy are dancing a few feet away.

         Charlie releases his hand the moment they reach the group, and Nick wishes he hadn’t even though it’s best that he did. Nick doesn’t really dance. He mainly watches as the girls enjoy dancing with one another. Tara shimmies around Darcy whose look of admiration at her partner is impossible not to notice. Amy does whatever she wants – in true Amy fashion. She twirls Charlie around then spins around him and it’s just good-natured fun. Nick mostly just moves his shoulders to the sound of the music and tries not to stare at the way the lights reflect off Charlie’s jubilant features. He could get used to seeing Charlie in this kind of environment. Enjoying himself. Finding bliss in the little things such as just enjoying some silly dancing with his friends. Nick’s careful not to touch him too much. It’s reminiscent to the first time they ever spent hours in each other’s presence. When Charlie unexpectedly came to Nick’s rescue. Something he hasn’t really stopped doing since they’ve met. But the alcohol is doing what he wanted it to. Loosening him up. Making him vulnerable. He’s not sure he could counteract the spark he feels any time they touch under the influence. If he can barely hold back when he’s sober, he’s not sure how much he can hold out when he isn’t. So, he keeps a comfortable distance, but he catches Charlie’s eyes so many times. Too many times to count. Sometimes Nick is the one who gets caught staring. Sometimes it’s Charlie. But whoever yields first, someway, somehow, their glances always make their way back to one another.

         After sufficient dancing, and sufficient longing, Nick quietly removes himself from their little dance circle and goes to stand back by one of the walls. His drink is gone, and his mind is swirling with thoughts he keeps trying to repress. Thoughts with Charlie’s name all over them.

         The last time he found himself in a similar situation, it catalyzed a disastrous turn of events. He’s keen on not letting history repeat itself, but he’s also not sure there’s any history to repeat. What he had with Thomas was wonderful. New and eye opening. He can’t discredit Thomas for being the first boy he ever allowed himself to care for in a way that wasn’t purely platonic. Nor does he want to. But what he and Charlie have is unique to anything Nick’s ever had with anyone in his life. There’s no one who understands him so effortlessly. So graciously. Nick’s not sure he believes in soulmates, but if he did, he’s sure Charlie would be his. Because it feels as if their souls were split into two, and his landed in his body and Charlie’s in his own. Like they’re woven together in a way that they never have been, or will be, with anyone else.

         Platonic soulmates exist though, don’t they?

         “Hey.”

         Nick looks up, not realizing he was staring down at his empty cup. Lost in thought.

         Charlie is standing right in front of him. His curls are a bit messy from the dancing, and there’s a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead from the exertion too. And throughout every little imperfection, Nick can only see beauty.

         “Hi,” he greets him back, ignoring the way his stomach flutters, “alright?”

         “Yeah,” Charlie nods, “the girls want to go get refills downstairs. Do you want to go with them?”

         Nick doesn’t, actually. He doesn’t think any more alcohol will help him. And he can’t fathom being surrounded by so many people again and such loud music. He’s been lucky that Harry or none of his other obnoxious teammates have come looking for him yet, and he’s trying to avoid and prolong it as much as he can.

         “Not really, honestly,” he awkwardly replies, “not because of them just because it’s so loud downstairs. It’s honestly even loud in here. Hard to have a conversation.”

         “Do you want to?” Charlie asks, “have a conversation, I mean.”

         “With you? Always.”

         Reel it back, Nelson. Reel it back, the voice in his head warns him. But the smile on Charlie’s face drowns it out. It betrays him.

         “Well, there’s a whole other floor we haven’t explored. Maybe it’s quieter?” Charlie suggests.

         There are warning flags popping up at every corner. Alarms going off in his head that are meant to protect him. That are trying to remind him of his boundaries. Of time’s past. Of everything Nick has been fighting himself so hard to avoid. And yet, the pull he feels to Charlie is stronger than all of it combined.

         “We should find out,” Nick suggests, “but would your friends be okay with you ditching them to spend some time with me?”

         It’s the last wrench he’s throwing in the universe’s plan.

         “Nah,” Charlie tells him, then he takes Nick’s empty cup in his own hand, “I’ll ask them to get us refills and that we’ll meet them back here in a bit. They’ll understand.”

         Nick’s not sure what Charlie means by that, but he doesn’t let his mind think too much about it. Instead, he lets Charlie take the reins and watches as he steps back and goes over to his friends. None of them seem disappointed or irritated, though Nick does catch Amy’s eye right before Charlie turns around to walk towards Nick again. It’s the same look she’s always given him. Like she knows the same things he denies to himself.

         “All good,” Charlie says with ease, “shall we explore?”

         Nick gives him a smile, “we shall.”

         Charlie leads the way, though they’re both strangers to where they’re headed.

         The third floor is emptier than any of the other floors they’ve been in. And it’s by far the most quiet. There’s no music playing, and all that can be heard is the chatter of the very few people occupying the space on the couches laid against the walls. Instantly, it’s Nick’s favorite floor.

         But he still doesn’t think it’s the privacy he craves for them. He’s been overstimulated by their environment. The loud music. The strangers whose flickers of recognition he’s caught on their faces in passing. He just wants what he’s been thinking of all night – some alone time with Charlie. Not for any reason that could overstep his boundaries, but just because when Nick is alone with Charlie, he feels the most himself he's ever felt. And he enjoys that feeling.

         There are long hallways that lead to doors that Nick thinks about walking through. He takes the lead this time, selfishly pulling Charlie away from everyone else around them. Charlie follows close behind.

         “This place is huge,” Charlie observes.

         Nick nods, “it is. So many rooms too.”

         “Wonder what’s inside of them.”      

         Nick laughs lightly, “probably a lot of hooking up we don’t want to walk into it.”

         Nick turns when he fails to hear Charlie’s footsteps behind him. They’ve reached a point in the house where the hallway has converted into a more open space. The space around them is circular, and there are three doors. Two to either side of them and one directly in front of them. Charlie stands at the very center of it, right with Nick.

         “Should we try our luck then?”

         “Charlie,” Nick tries to warn him.

         Charlie doesn’t head his warnings. Similarly to how Nick doesn’t either. He instead dives headfirst and open the first door he thinks of. It happens to be the door to their left.

         Charlie peaks in first, with Nick still standing at the center watching him.

         He gasps, and Nick wants to tell him he told him so. But once Charlie gives Nick a mischievous grin over his shoulder, he knows he’s bluffing.

         “No one’s hooking up in here,” Charlie tells him, “and I definitely think you’re going to want to see this.”

         He walks in, and as always, Nick follows him.

         Charlie was right. The room is exactly the kind of space Nick’s been wanting to share with Charlie since the match ended. It’s a pitch-black room, illuminated by artificial stars that have been carefully placed along every wall. They’re not the kind of stars one could buy off amazon. They’re not the kind of stars that kids put on their childhood bedroom walls to disguise the fact that they have trouble sleeping in pitch darkness. They’re life-like, mimicking constellations one could find in the actual night sky.

         It’s beautiful. And it’s exactly what Nick had in mind when he thought about how he’d like to spend time with Charlie. How he’d like to celebrate his win. It isn’t the real thing. They’re not laying down on the pitch watching the actual stars that hang above them, but it’s close enough.

         “Imagine if we could see the night sky like this every night,” Charlie whispers, like he’s scared to speak too loudly and break something. The only thing Nick thinks he could break with his words is his heart. The same one he keeps carefully held in place in his hands.

         “Would be a dream,” Nick says, his eyes locked on Charlie as Charlie’s eyes roam all over their surroundings.

         “Should we, maybe sit down?” Charlie asks him.

         Nick doesn’t answer with words. Instead, he just moves himself to the ground. He holds out a hand for Charlie to do the same and not stumble. Or at least, that’s how he compartmentalizes the action in his head. It’s not an excuse to touch him.

It’s not.

         Charlie gives Nick his hand, and soon after they’re both laying down on their backs in a strange room that doesn’t feel strange at all. Looking up at a ceiling that looks so much like the same sky they have hanging over their heads every night. But the night sky doesn’t look the same, even if it is. It’s The city lights take precedence. Obscuring the natural beauty and all the twinkling nights that hang in the sky with their own glow.

         “Isn’t crazy that we have this with us every night fall,” Nick says out loud, “but we can never actually see it because we have all these other lights blocking it out. Making it as if it doesn’t exist. But it does.”

         “Wow,” Charlie says, “that’s very philosophical thinking.”

         Nick snorts, “alright, all you had to say was you disagreed.”

         “But I don’t,” Nick can feel Charlie shift, the small space between their bodies dwindling further, “and I think that can be applied to many things. There’s a lot of things that can be standing right in front of us that are hard to notice because of all the outside noise.”

         Charlie always gets it. Gets him.

         Nick already feels pieces of his soul healing in the two minutes they’ve spent alone together. Just talking.

         Nick swallows, “right.”

         “Is everything okay?” Charlie asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

         Nick turns his head and isn’t surprised to find Charlie in the same position. Looking right at him. A lot of Charlie is hidden underneath the darkness of the room despite the stars taking up every wall. The lighting is minimal, but even under such minimal light, Nick can make out the ocean waves of Charlie’s eyes. Crashing right into him. Like the always do.

         “What’d you mean?” Nick asks for clarification, matching Charlie’s volume.

         “Like, with you,” Charlie explains, “I don’t know. I feel like you played the best game of your life. Everyone’s been saying it. But you’ve felt distant all night. Like you’re here but you’re not.”

         Because I’ve really just wanted to be alone with you all night but we haven’t had the chance until now.

         Because I did play a great game of rugby, but it was mostly to impress you and not because I feel any kind of real love for the sport anymore. I fear I have no actual love for it left.

         Because I just want to be myself like we talked about, but I’m still finding it hard, and I know so much of that is because of rugby. And my dad.

         You’re the only thing that makes me feel like me. And I can’t have you how I want you. And other people can. And I hate that almost as much as I hate myself for not allowing myself to give into this.

         Are all the things he doesn’t say.

         “I’m still working through everything,” is what Nick actually says, “and yes, I guess I did play good rugby but – I don’t know. It didn’t feel as satisfying as it has before, I guess.”

         “Can I ask you a maybe stupid question?”

         “I don’t think you’re capable of something like that, but yes.”   

         “Do you like rugby?”

         Nick can’t remember the last time anyone’s ever asked him that. Or if anyone’s ever asked him that. Nick’s been playing the sport since he could walk. The moment he was capable of holding up his own weight on his own two legs, he was on a field with his dad and his brother throwing a ball around. Then he was in little leagues, and school teams, and the sport just became a part of him. Became so heavily embroidered in everything Nick is and isn’t, he never stopped to wonder why. Or if it had ever been for him to choose, whether it would have been his choice.

         “If I’ve overstepped, I’m sorry—” Charlie starts to say, but Nick quickly butts in.

         “No, no. Charlie, don’t apologize,” he tells him earnestly, “I’m not quiet because I’m offended. I’m quiet because no one’s ever actual asked me that before. I haven’t had to think about that in a long time. If ever.”

         “Really?” Charlie sounds taken aback by the revelation, “but – I would think that if your life is so centered around it, someone would’ve bothered to ask whether that was by chance or choice.”

         “You’re the first,” Nick reveals. To himself and to Charlie.

         Not even Thomas ever asked him that question.

         “Well, then. I really am sorry.”

         “Charlie—”

         “Nick, I know it feels like you don’t have much of a choice when it comes to these things. And honestly, the fact that no one’s even asked you the most basic of questions explains why you feel that way. But I just want you to know that you do have choices. You are the only person who really gets to decide. I know it may not feel like that’s true. But it is. I promise.”

         Nick freezes into silence. The emotions caught in his throat are too much for him to bare. Too much for him to allow words to form. As if Charlie can sense the tidal waves overrunning him, he does the only thing that can calm the storm. His pinky reaches out to Nick’s where their hands lay flat between them. It’s the smallest touch of comfort, but it’s everything to Nick. He lets go of any reservations he might have of touching Charlie in a darkened roomed and he makes a choice.

         He hooks his own pinky with Charlie’s. The touch bringing forth a candescent glow that can be felt all around them.

         Danger alarms be damned.

         Suddenly, the space between them seems futile. The inches feel like centimeters, and the dreams Nick has about closing that space and bringing their souls back together as one don’t seem so far off from reality. He’s having a hard time remembering why he was every opposed to it when Charlie is the only thing that ever feels right without him forcing it to.

         Then his phones start disrupts the comfortable silence. Breaks through the glow. Brings Nick back to Earth. The very same one where they’re not the only two people under the same galaxy. And Nick jumps at the sound, at the reality, and breaks contact immediately.

         He brings his phone out of his pocket and sees Sai’s face flashing on his phone screen. He answers, and immediately has to bring the phone a couple of inches away from his direct ear tp keep from going deaf. Sai is definitely calling him from inside the party, the background noise making it so he has to yell into his own phone.

         “Mate, where are you?” Sai slurs into the phone, “you’ve been gone for ages! The team’s all here on the first floor taking celebratory shots but we can’t do it without our captain!”

         “Yeah, come on, rugby king!” Nick hears another voice try and yell into the mouthpiece of Sai’s phone on the other end of the line. Instantly, he knows who it belongs to, and it makes the hair on his skin stand with irritation.

         “Come join the team! Unless the reason you’ve disappeared is because you’re getting some good pu—” Harry starts to yell, when Nick abruptly cuts them.

         “I’ll be right down,” Nick says into the phone and then he hangs it up. The stark contrasts between the quietness of the room and the noise outside can be felt all around them the moment Nick does.

         “Um,” Nick clears his throat, “I think we should go downstairs.”

         “Probably,” Charlie says, “but what do you want to do?”

         Nick knows what Charlie is doing. He’s trying to remind Nick about those choices he thinks he has. But Nick thinks about how Charlie isn’t understanding that when they’ve all been ripped away from you, it’s hard for one to ever imagine having that power again.

         So, Nick says, “I need to go down.”

         And Charlie doesn’t fight him on it.

         Instead, they both reluctantly get up. They both reluctantly leave the night-sky look-alike room. They both descend the stairs, the voices, the music, and the overall volume growing louder and louder as they pass each floor until they’re at the first. The entire time neither of them say anything to one another. Nick can feel Charlie’s disappointment as much as he can feel his own. The moment that was theirs, gone. Vanished.

         They make their way around the strangers overcrowding the space, and that’s when Nick hears Otis call out his name. He finds him a few people ahead. Next to him are Sai and Cristian, and then Harry and all his other teammates.

         “Nick!” Otis yells at him, “over here!”

         Nick turns to momentarily excuse himself from Charlie, but when he does, he finds that he’s already gone. Likely to find his own friends.

         It feels bone crushing. But by the time Nick turns to face his friends again, he has his best fake smile plastered on his face.

         “Lads!” he greets them, trying to match their energy levels.

         “Oi! Look who’s decided to join the party,” Harry obnoxiously says, “were you too busy enjoying someone else?”

         He winks exaggeratedly at Nick, and Nick fights the urge to punch the smug expression off his dumb face.

         “I was told there was cause for celebration,” Nick deflects, and then because it’s a part he knows how to play all too well, he turns and opens his hands wide. Addressing the crowd of people that have circled around them, eager to watch them. Eager to watch him.

         “So, where’s the fucking celebration?” he yells out to everyone, and the crowd goes wild at his fingertips. He makes a gesture with his hands as if he’s asking the crowd to go wilder, yell louder. And he is, but only because that’s what he thinks he needs to be doing.

         The moment his eyes meet Charlie’s across the crowd that’s gathered around him and his teammates, he feels embarrassed by his actions. Charlie’s eyes don’t hold anything behind them. There’s no heat or judgement. But there’s none of their usual kindness either. And that is as much of a punch to the gut as all the self-loathing he feels in this moment for himself.

         Charlie breaks the eye contact, turning his head to talk to who Nick thinks is Amy as whoever it is, is too short for Nick to see over the people crowding his space. He turns to find girls handing out shots of clear liquid to him and his teammates. He pounds is back, pretending to enjoy the sensation of the alcohol going down his throat with the same aggression he’s pretending to enjoy any of what he’s partaking in. It couldn’t be further from the truth. He hasn’t enjoyed anything about tonight the way he enjoyed the five minutes of stillness he had with Charlie upstairs. But he’s made his bed, and Nick intends to lay in it.

         He doesn’t approach Charlie after the shots have been passed and so has the moment hey wanted him downstairs for. He hangs around his teammates, listening to them drunkenly talk about their rest of the season and the success they expect to face. Once again talking about things Nick is finding hard to face. Cristian disappears about five minutes into the depthless conversation, likely to find Daisy and bask in her company. And Nick feels jealous again. Jealous that he can’t do that so easily with Charlie. Charlie, whose face he hasn’t seen it what feels like far too long.

         Imogen saves him about fifteen minutes later.

         “Nicky!” she throws her hands up as she walks up to him, a drink in her hand a stumble in her step that lets Nick know she’s had a bit to drink. Nick thinks maybe that’s what he should be doing more of.

         More drinking. Less mopping.

         That’s a choice, isn’t it, Charlie?

         “Im,” Nick smiles down at her, “having fun, yeah?”

         “Well, duh!” she says easily, “aren’t you?”

         He doesn’t tell her the truth.

         “But of course.”

         “Good! Because this is all for you guys anyway.”

         He doesn’t think any of it is for him. If it was, it would look nothing like this.

         “Right, right.”

         “Cristian and his girlfriend are cute,” Imogen says, no heat behind her words, “he actually seems quite smitten with her.”

         Nick rolls his eyes, “Im, he’s smitten over everyone new. He was that exact same way with you.”

         “Not really,” she responds, not seeming bothered by her own declaration, “I have a feeling this one might stick.”

         Nick is perplexed by how easy-going Imogen is about her ex—whatever they were. Especially when Nick can’t stand the mere thought, much less the sight, of Charlie – who he is not at all romantically involved with – with anyone else.

         “Does it not bother you at all?”

         “No!” Imogen shakes her head, “why would it? That feels like ages ago and also, everyone deserves to be happy, Nicholas. I’m happy he seems to have found his. I’ll find mine.”

         Nick has no doubt about that. He’s about to tell Imogen as much when a new song starts playing on the speakers.

         “Oh my god!” she shrieks, “I love this song!”

         Nick stops and listens. The beat is nice, as is the voice singing over it, but Nick doesn’t recognize it.

         “What song is this?”

         “One of your girls by Troye Sivan,” she squeals, “it is so good! Have a listen!”

         As if she’s not taking her own advice, or she is but in an entirely different context, Imogen begins to dance along to the rhythm. She grabs Nick’s hand and twirls herself around him, using him mainly as a prop to move about. He laughs, because he can see where his friends get the idea that she’s into him. But Imogen is such a free spirit, much like Amy, that she just makes everything and everyone around her a situation that suits her.

         As Nick sways to the music, letting Imogen use his hands to spin herself around as many times as she likes, he takes in the words of the song.

         Give me a call if you ever get lonely.

         I’ll be like one of your girls or your homies.

         Say what you want, and I’ll keep a secret

         You’ve got the key to my heart and I need it

Nick absorbs the meaning behind the words. And as he’s serenaded through the voice singing them back to him, he looks up and meets the very same eyes he could crash into a million times and still go for one more.

         It’s lightning in a bottle every time they lock eyes. Sparkling adrenaline, contained by glass ceilings.

         Nick thinks that if there was ever a time to make a choice that mattered, it’s this one. He’s about to leave Imogen to dance on her own, which he’s sure she wouldn’t mind given how independent she’s always been. He’s about to go through the people physically separating them and show Charlie he’s capable of making choices for himself, when Harry Greene comes right in front of him. Blocking his way. Intervening on his plans.

         “Mate!” he slaps Nick’s shoulder like he always does. Force disguised by friendliness. It takes Nick a moment to process the whole thing, and to notice who’s standing right next to Harry.

         It’s Amaya. She has a tight sequence black mini dress on that even he can tell is riding up too high, with her long hair down and falling down her back in the way that’s made Nick’s heart jumpstart in the past. He hasn’t seen her since that night almost three weeks ago, when he ran into her bartending at music night. And just like then, he sees her undeniable beauty, but has no reaction to it. Not like he used to. The only thing he notices about her that’s different is that she’s visible drunk. Or at the very least, not sober. Her eyes are glossy, and she can barely stand without leaning on Harry for support. In the three years Nick has known her, he’s never seen her be a sloppy drunk. She’s always held her liquor well.

         “Amaya,” Nick says worriedly.

         “She’s been asking for you all night, mate,” Harry smiles to Nick, but there’s no warmth to it. Even the way his arm is snaked around Amaya’s waist to help hold her up, as it’s clear she can barely stand on her feet, makes Nick’s stomach churn with uneasiness. It doesn’t feel like the intention behind the touch is for helpfulness. It feels predatory. Nick feels an instant need to protect her. Whether or not Harry is just spewing lies to cause some sort of drama, or some sort of friction, and Amaya hasn’t actually been asking for Nick all night – which would make more sense to him than if she was – he wants to take her far away from Harry.

         “Give her to me,” Nick demands, his jaw clenching.

         Harry gives him a slimy laugh, “by all means, mate. That’s what I came here for. She’s all yours.”

         Harry lets her go, though Nick notices the way his touch lingers on her lower back. It sends a shiver of disgust up Nick’s spine but he’s too focused on Amaya to worry about Harry or his stupidity.

         Once Harry isn’t supporting most of Amaya’s weight, she stumbles. Nick grabs onto her shoulders to steady her. Her head is lolling around, signaling that she’s had far more to drink than she should’ve. He’s confused by all of it – Amaya’s actions, Harry’s word. But the one thing on his mind is getting Amaya to safety. And that means getting her out of the house.

         “Amaya,” Nick repeats, holding Amaya’s face in his hands like he has so many times before, but in completely different context, “what’s going on?”

         She giggles, though her eyes are half-hooded and barely open, “Ifm, frdunk.”

         Her words are barely coherent, and Nick knows what he needs to do. For the first time, in a long time, it just so happens to be what he wants to do too.

         “Imogen, can you hold her up while I call an Uber?” Nick asks over his shoulder, loud enough for Imogen to hear.

         Imogen quickly stops dancing and comes to his side, holding onto to Amaya who is now in her arms.

         “You’re leaving, mate?” Harry asks, unbeknownst to Nick that he was still lurking around.

         “Yeah,” Nick replies dryly, “I need to get her home.”

         “Ooooh,” Harry coos obnoxiously, “can’t wait to get her home, you mean?”

         Nick looks up from what he’s doing on his phone – or what he’s trying to do, if Harry’s stupidity wasn’t sending him over the ledge. He gives Harry an incredulous look, which given how self-centered Harry is, he’s not even sure he registers as such. He’s still giving Nick a smirk, like he’s on the joke. Except there is no joke, and even if there was one, Nick sure as hell wouldn’t let Harry in on it.

         “Mate, what the fuck—” Nick starts, not caring anymore if the situation escalates.

         But then he’s interrupted. A familiar voice cutting through the void.

         “What’s going on?” Charlie looks in between Nick and Harry, and then to where Imogen is trying to keep Amaya up.

         “Who the fuck are you?” Harry looks Charlie up and down, a look of confusion and hints of disgust on his face.

         “A friend,” Nick answers before Charlie has the chance.

“A friend?” Harry questions, giving Nick and Charlie a look that lets Nick know he doesn’t get it. He doesn’t need to.

“Yes,” Nick says through gritted teeth, “and he’s going to help me get Amaya home. Go enjoy your night, Harry.”

         “Are we –”

         “Harry!” Imogen shrieks, “can you piss off already? The girl is so drunk she can barely stand, and I am far too small and weak to keep holding her up so can you just let them work out how they’re going to let her get home and go back to your stupid party?”

         This is why Nick loves Imogen. She sometimes speaks the words he so desperately wishes he could speak himself.

         Harry’s always had some weird sort of respect for Imogen. At least more than he does most women. So, he backs up, his hands up in the air in surrender.

         “This is a buzzkill anyway, mate,” Harry says as he’s leaving.

         Once Harry is out of ear shot, Nick thanks Imogen.

         “Sure, whatever,” she says annoyedly, clearly struggling to hold up all of Amaya’s weight, “just call the Uber already so you can take her back. I wasn’t joking when I said I can barely hold her up.”

         “I can help,” Charlie offers, and then he’s coming around to Imogen to do just that. Nick watches as Charlie wraps one of Amaya’s arms around his own shoulders.

         Nick knows he needs to thank Charlie for his help too, but with Amaya’s weight supported,  he focuses on getting Amaya home first. He quickly calls for an Uber, typing in the address of Amaya’s flat on campus that he still remembers by heart.

         He sticks his phone back in his pocket, “Uber should be here soon. We should wait outside.”

         “Yeah, alright,” Charlie says.

         Nick gives Imogen a quick side hug, “thanks again for the help, Im.”

         “No worries,” she says kindly, “sorry your night got cut early.”

         “It’s fine,” he tells her, knowing it mainly is. The only thing about the night he’ll miss out on is Charlie. And it’s a big miss, but he’ll have other chances to be in his presence. Hopefully for longer.

         Nick loops Amaya’s other arm over his shoulder, and together, he and Charlie move through the crowd and step outside. The fresh air instantly cools Nick’s skin, and the contact is welcoming. Amaya moans in their arms, which signals to Nick that she feels the same. At that very moment, Amaya unwraps the one arm she had around Charlie’s shoulder and wraps both her arms around Nick’s neck. She crushes her body into his, resting her head on her chest like she’s rarely ever done. They’ve been intimate in many ways, but gentle touches were never their thing. It catches Nick off guard as much as it makes him uncomfortable for Charlie to be standing around while it’s happening.

         He’s not sure what Charlie knows about him and Amaya, if anything. But because Amy knows all about it, along with most of the campus, he’s sure Charlie knows enough where this entire situation is justifiably weird. Maybe it shouldn’t be considering he and Charlie are just friends, but well. Nick is having a hard time upholding that lie the longer it goes on.

         “Um,” Nick tries to say, unsure where to place his hands on Amaya – a new problem for him, “thanks, Charlie. Really, I appreciate it. You can go back inside if you want. I’ve got it from here.”

         Charlie doesn’t respond immediately. His eyes flicker from where Amaya is cuddled into Nick’s chest and Nick is standing holding her against him. He wants to explain but isn’t sure how that would make things better.

         “You sure?” Charlie asks, “I don’t mind waiting for the Uber. You know, in case she gets sick or anything.”

         Nick would steal a couple more minutes with Charlie any chance he got, but this one seems like a weird one to do that in.

         “I feel like I’ve stolen you away enough for the night,” Nick says, “I want you to be able to go enjoy it.”

         “Don’t think there’s much left for me to enjoy inside anyway,” Charlie admits, “If I didn’t feel like a knob just leaving my friends behind like that, I’d catch this Uber ride with you back to the flat.”

         Nick knows he means it. He knows he means every word. It makes his bones ache.

         “Alright, then,” Nick concedes, “Uber should be here any moment now, anyway.”

         “This is kind of you,” Charlie tells him, “You know, to look after her like this even though you two aren’t – well. I mean I don’t know—”

         “We aren’t,” Nick confirms for him, “but I’ve known her too long to not care about her in some way still.”

         Even though you’re the reason I’ll never care for her like I used to.

         The words die in his throat.

         “Good,” Charlie nods.

         Nick’s not sure he means it that time.

         But there’s not enough time for him to find out. The Uber arrives right then and there, pulling up the curb of the sidewalk of the street that’s quiet and unlike everything going on inside the house on the very same street.

         The Uber driver rolls down his window and confirms Nick is the passenger who called. Once Nick’s confirmed it, Charlie opens the back door of the car for them. Nick carefully places Amaya on the seat, having to pry her hands away from his neck as he does it. Her eyes are fully closed now, and she seems to be losing consciousness. Nick thinks that a brief nap on the car ride over to campus would probably do her some good. Help her sober up.

         He turns to Charlie, not having the right words to that would capture the totality of what he’s feeling. At a loss at how to give him a proper goodbye. This seems like a pattern when it comes to Charlie. Maybe there are no words in the English language that would suffice.

         “Thanks, again,” Nick says, though he knows it’s not nearly enough, “I – you’re always there. When I need you.”

         Charlie gives him a half smile, “I don’t mind it.”

         Nick sighs, heavy. Like he’s exhaling every frustration he feels with every string of fabric that stitches together their situation. And then he’s pulling Charlie into his arms. Wrapping them tightly around Charlie’s smaller frame. Like if that way, it’ll hold them together for eternity.

         He breathes in air. The clean air. The fresh air. Everything that’s kept him going in the last two and a half weeks.

         Nick pulls always too quickly after, but knowing he must with the Uber driver waiting.

         “Get home safe,” Nick tells Charlie.

         Charlie nods, “you too. Text me when you do?”

         Nick gives him a curt nod, “will do. Bye Charlie.”

         “Bye Nick.”

         Nick gets into the passenger seat of the Uber, waving at Charlie as he does. He watches from the rearview window as Charlie fades from view as they drive off the street. It isn’t until they turn the corner that he sees Charlie turn to head back inside the house.

         Getting Amaya into her flat’s bedroom in the state she is in is an exhausting task that Nick knows she won’t be nearly as appreciative of as she should be when she wakes up the next morning and sobers up. He does it anyway. Knowing he meant it to Charlie when he said that the years of knowing her meant he still cared for her in some way, and enough, to be a friend to her.

         He puts her down in her bed and leaves her mumbling to herself as he goes into her kitchen and looks for two ibuprofens and something he can feed her, though his options are limited given how late into the night it is. He finds enough ingredients in her and her flat mates’ kitchen to make her a simple ham and cheese sandwich. He knows it isn’t something she’d eat under normal circumstances, but given that she’s barely all there, he doesn’t think she’ll protest too much.

         He comes into her room ten minutes later with the pills, a cup of water, and a sandwich to find her half naked on her bed. From the clothes scattered on the floor and her dresser drawers half open, Nick assumes she was trying to change out of her dress but was only able to find the top half of her pajamas.

         It makes him laugh to himself.

         “What’s funny?” she asks him, Amaya’s usually demeanor peering through her drunk state. It lets him know the nap on the Uber drive over and the walk to her flat has helped her burn off some of the alcohol.

         “You,” Nick tells her easily, “now sit up. I’ve got some food, some pills, and water. All three of which you need.”

         “Such a dad,” she rolls her eyes at him, but does as she’s tell and sits up against her bed’s headboard.

         He hands her the water first, then the pills. She takes them easily. Once she’s finished swallowing them down, he hands her the sandwich he made for her.

         She eyes it carefully, but seemingly still inhibited enough that she ultimately decides it’s good enough and takes a bite. Nick’s relieved.

         He sits at the edge of her bed next to her, watching as she takes bites of her sandwich like it’s actually something she enjoys eating and continuously washing it down with water like after every bite she remembers it isn’t.

         “I’ll get you more water before I go so you have some in the very likely chance you wake up in the middle of the night quenched with thirst,” Nick tells her, not knowing whether it’s futile or not. She might not remember a damn word he’s said. Or a damn thing about the last half of her night in general.

         In the soft light of her room, sitting in nothing more than t-shirt and a half-eaten sandwich on her lap, Amaya looks so vulnerable. It’s the most beautiful she’s ever looked to him. And yet, it does nothing to his pulse. Again, he knows Charlie is to blame for that.

         “You’ve always been so nice to me,” she says lowly, “I always the one who was a bitch. I am a bitch. Is that why it didn’t work out between us?”

         Nick’s not sure where the statement or the question comes from. Amaya’s never shown any remorse for how she is, or how she carries herself. Honestly, it was always a big part of the reason Nick was always attracted to her. Besides the obvious good looks, Amaya’s always been comfortable in her own skin. Nick always admired her for it. Maybe he envied her a bit for it too. And he also doesn’t understand what ‘us’ she’s referring to that didn’t work out. There was barely even a them. But whatever feelings her words stem from, Nick doesn’t think it’s the right time to talk about it.

         “Amaya, I think we both know there was much more, or less to it – depending on how you look at it – than that,” Nick tells her, only scratching the surface, “but it doesn’t matter, yeah? I’ve always liked you exactly how you are. And so have you. You’re just… a little drunk right now.”

         Amaya gives him a small smile. And then her hand finds his on the bed. She intertwines their fingers, and Nick lets her because she needs the comfort more than he does in the moment. He expects it to stay there. But she escalates it. It’s quick, especially for someone who was so drunk half an hour ago they could barely stand on their own. But in a quick movement, Amaya’s sandwich is discarded on her nightstand and she’s halfway into Nick’s lap.

         He sees her flutter her eyes close and try and rid of any distance between them. Like if it’s an instinct he can’t help, Nick pulls away.

         “Amaya,” he says, “I don’t – this isn’t a good idea.”

         “Why? Because I’m a little drunk?” Amaya asks him, like she doesn’t see the big deal, “we’ve had drunk sex plenty of times. You know I always want you. Drunk or not, you have my consent.”

         She closes her eyes and leans in again. What she’s saying is the truth and he knows it, but usually they’ve both been drunk. And they’ve both wanted it. Both of those things do not apply tonight.

         “It’s not just that,” Nick says, pulling away once more and hoping he doesn’t have to spell it out for her further.

         He doesn’t. Amaya opens her eyes and backs away. Sitting down on her back legs. Her eyes search Nick’s, like she’s looking for an answer to a question she hasn’t asked yet.

         “Why don’t you want me anymore?”

         The questions shatters Nick’s heart. A piece that had been reserved for Amaya for such a long time that he knows no longer beats. There’s no blood rushing towards it anymore. The supply has been cut off. And the piece has necrotized.

         “I—” Nick opens his mouth to try and explain, but he stops short of an answer. He doesn’t even know where to begin.

         “Is it because you’re gay?” Amaya asks. She says it nonchalantly, like his answer won’t affect her and she just wants one.

         Charlie’s words echo through his mind – ‘But I just want you to know that you do have choices. You are the only person who really gets to decide.’

         He makes a decision in that moment. To be honest. For once. To speak the words out loud to someone who isn’t Charlie. Or himself. The only two people he’s ever had the guts to admit it to. 

         “I’m not gay,” he says, and then, finding any ounce of courage he can cling on to he adds, “I’m bisexual, actually.”

         Amaya nods in understanding, “okay, then. That means you could still be into me so – why aren’t you?”

         She doesn’t blink at his revelation. She doesn’t fuss. She doesn’t question. She doesn’t care. And not in a mean, brushing off kind of ‘I don’t care about your problems’ way. But in a way that doesn’t make the information feel important enough to flail over. Like it’s normal.

         Nick can’t thank her enough for it.

         “It’s complicated,” Nick says, “and really nothing to do with you. And more to do with me.”

         “And the stuff that happened to you last term?” she boldly asks.

         The alcohol must really be doing something to her, because she’s never dared had to have this conversation over the last six months though she’s had multiple opportunities to. Or maybe it’s more than that. Maybe something’s been going on for a while, and the reason she got drunk tonight is because of it. Whether he thinks tonight is the right night to find out or not, he knows he likely is going to anyway.

         Nick tries to swallow down his emotion at her question, “yeah.”

         “That was shitty,” she says, “I’m sorry I wasn’t like there you know. I didn’t know how to be.”

         “I didn’t let you be,” Nick says in her defense, knowing it’s the truth, “I didn’t let anyone be there. I just buried it underneath the rug like it never happened and it never mattered. When it did. It mattered so much.”

         “Were you in love with him?”

         Nick knows now more than ever that he wasn’t. He was falling, but he never quite hit the ground. They never had the chance.

         “No,” Nick answers honestly, “but I was falling in love with him.”

         Amaya brings her knees up to her chest, looking like a scared little kid, “I want to be in love.”

         The words are a shock to Nick’s system. For as long as he’s known Amaya, she’s never cared for trivial things like love and relationships. She’s always cared about having power over people. About being admired. The other stuff well – it seemed like she always felt it was beneath her. It was why they worked so well for so long. Not because Nick had the same ideas about those things, but because he too had no space for them.

         Maybe they’ve both changed in ways neither of them can understand.

         “Since when?” Nick asks, intrigued by the sudden change of heart.

         She shrugs, small like the rest of her, “I think I just got bored of all the meaningless connections. The meaningless sex. It was fun for a while but now I just feel…,” she pauses, looking off to the distance like the answers awaits her somewhere there. She seems to find it, “empty.”

         Nick knows that feeling too well. Not for the same reasons but, he thinks that doesn’t make much of a difference.

         “I understand how you’re feeling,” he confesses to her, “I’ve been feeling like that myself.”

         It’s only as they’re staring at each other in the quietness of her room that Nick can see the tiredness in Amaya’s eyes. Exhaustion brought on by the feelings that live inside them both.

         “Have you?” she questions, “since when?”

         “Since him,” Nick admits.

         “I guess that makes sense.”

         “What about you? Since when did you start feeling like this?”

         Amaya looks pensive before she answers, “I think right after we tried to have sex in the beginning of the term, and it didn’t go as planned. I left there feeling so angry. At first, I thought it was just a shot to my ego. And then I got that gig at the campus bar to you know, counteract that and grab attention. Get hit on. Pick up hook ups. Seek that validation I thought you had taken from me,” she takes a breath, “but that came so easily, and it still didn’t make me feel better. I think that’s when I realized I didn’t want the sexual validation, but I just wanted someone to like me. Like me, not just the sex.”

         Nick feels guilty for being the catalyst to Amaya’s insecurities. He feels a pang of hurt for this person who he’s known in so many ways but is getting to know in an entirely new way. It’s funny how that works, he thinks. You can know someone for so many years, and think you know all of them, and then they show you a new part of them you never knew existed and it’s like you’re seeing them again for the first time.

         “I know you’ve mainly had luck sleeping around, but I think that’s because that’s what you always gave off that you only wanted. If you made it known that you were open for more, someone would fall into your lap just as easily as they do for the sex,” Nick says sincerely, “someone will like you for who you are, Amaya. Especially if you show them this side to you. How could they not?”

         “Do you?” she asks quickly, like she’s been biting down the question on her tongue for longer than the couple of seconds Nick was just speaking for, “like me like that now that you see something different from me?” 

         Nick has the answer immediately in his head once she’s asked, but he doesn’t answer right away. Mainly because he doesn’t know what explanation to give her that makes sense. Because the answer is no, and he’s sure she knows that. But he’s not sure whose fault that is. Whether it’s theirs – for carrying on a relationship for too many years that never allowed them to have much depth and now it’s too late to break through their self-made ceilings. Or if it’s entirely his – for not understanding himself or his emotions enough to open up to anyone in a way that would make it easy for him to fall in love. Or if it’s Charlie’s – for occupying too much space in both Nick’s thoughts and his heart that makes it impossible for anyone else to have a shot.

         Nick decides to ask a more important question, because he doesn’t think this about him.

         “Do you like me like that?”

         Amaya’s green eyes don’t feel as fierce as they usually do as they stare back at him.

         “I think I could,” she says softly, “it would make sense, wouldn’t it? We already have the sexual chemistry. And you’re – you’re a very good guy.”

         “Thank you,” he says, “but just because you think of me as a good guy doesn’t mean that’s enough. I’m not the only good guy out there. And I think if you’re looking to be in a relationship, and find love, it shouldn’t be a game of ‘I could like you.’ It should be, ‘I just do.’”

         “Is it really that simple?” Amaya asks him.

         Nick knows that feeling, that rush, that undeniable want layered in so many versions of that one-syllabled word, is that simple. He knows it because of Charlie. Because he tries to fight it off every day, but the growth of it doesn’t halt anyway. It’s what to do with that feeling that isn’t as simple. At least for him. He hopes for Amaya it’s a lot easier.

         “I think so,” Nick tells her, hoping to bring her some sort of comfort with his answer, “it’s cliché but I do think that when you know, you know.”

         “You think you’ll know when you know?”

         He knows he already does.

         “Yes.”

         Amaya stretches out her legs and leans her head against the headboard. She seems ten times more sober than she did only an hour ago. Nick hopes that’s true, and that she remembers every bit of their conversation in the morning. Despite not liking or loving her like that, there’s affection he feels for her. It’s not the same kind of affection he feels for people he’d do much more than just sleeps with, but it’s the same kind of affection he feels for people like Imogen. It’s purely platonic, but it makes him care for her well being. Her sloppiness tonight makes much more sense to him now that he has a full picture. He wishes that she doesn’t continue to find herself in the same situation she did tonight because she’s unhappy about something in her life.

         “It’s not me,” she declares.

         “And it’s not me,” he declares right back.

         She hums in response, “so where does that leave us, then? Strangers again.”

         Nick doesn’t think that sounds right.

         “I don’t think so. It doesn’t have to leave us at that at least. I’d like to think of us as friends.”

         The word doesn’t feel foreign when he uses it to describe their relationship. It doesn’t feel wrong or unfitting. It feels just right, like that is what he and Amaya should’ve been all along. It only serves to highlight how much of a lie Nick’s been telling himself when it comes to his relationship with Charlie. Because if he and Amaya are friends, there’s no way that is all he and Charlie are either. What he feels for Amaya, not even what he’s felt for her in the past, could ever compete with what he feels for Charlie.

         But he’s still not sure what he’s meant to do about that.

         “Friends?” she raises a brow, bringing Nick back to the present.

         “Friends,” he repeats, knowing it’s what’s right for them.

         She holds out her hand to him, “friends.”

         He takes it, and they shake on it like becoming friends is a kind of business transaction that requires this sort of thing. He laughs at the obscenity of it all, and shortly after, Amaya is giggling along with him. An understanding ebbs and flows between them that didn’t exist before tonight, and Nick is grateful that it now does.

 There’s not much for either of them to say after that, so they don’t try to fill the space with meaningless chatter. The words they needed to say to each other have already been spoken. Nick waits until Amaya finishes her sandwich, then as promised, he refills her glass of water and leaves it on her nightstand so she could reach for it at any point in the night. They give each other a small hug before Nick sees himself out of her flat.

         On the walk back to his own flat, there’s only one thing replaying in his mind: how silly it was of him to ever think he and Charlie were ever just friends.

         What a load of absolute bullshit.

Chapter Text

“So, have you decided?”

The voice comes through muffled. Charlie’s physical body is sitting next to Manny at the school library, but his mind is elsewhere. It’s where it seems to be most days – lost in some imaginary island where Nick Nelson the only other inhabitant, and their interactions play on a continuous loop for Charlie to deconstruct. He takes their interactions apart, piece by piece, and tries to make sense of each one of them.

Friends, they’d deciced. But Charlie’s mind hasn’t seemed to have gotten the memo. Neither has his heart, but he finds that easier to silence most days.

“Charlie?” Manny says, clearly trying to bring Charlie back to real-time. To real life. The one where the person he lays naked and asleep with sometimes isn’t the person his heart yearns for but the person he settles for.

It sounds worse than it is when he frames it like that. Because it isn’t like he doesn’t like or care for Manny at all. He does. But it’s more like no one holds a candle to how Nick Nelson makes him feel. With all his pushing and pulling, with all his fickle mindedness and contradicting actions – he’s still the one Charlie has to exorcise his thoughts from like he’s fighting off demons.

What a fucking joke, he yells at the universe.

Get used to it, it yells right back at him.

Charlie blinks himself back to the present. He lifts his head from where it was resting on his hand moments ago and turns to look at Manny. He has expectant eyes on Charlie, and Charlie’s not sure what to do with those expectations. He’s never made any promises to anyone he’s been hooking up with. He doesn’t see the point where he doesn’t feel ready to commit to a relationship. And after how he ditched Manny last time – the night of the rugby match and the after party – he expected Manny to full on give up on any hopes he might’ve had for them. It wasn’t Charlie’s proudest moment, but he wasn’t going to invite Manny to a party for Nick, that Nick had invited him to. It didn’t feel right to do – even if he’d had plans with Manny first to go the queer club with all their friends. He’d upheld those plans, just cut them short. And left him at the bar to go meet with the person who he’d actually been envisioning all night.

“What was that?”

Manny laughs, low and like he doesn’t mean to, “distracted?”

“No,” Charlie lies, “just – thinking.”

“About slam poetry night?”

“Yeah,” Charlie lies again.

“So, you haven’t decided?”

Charlie’s been going back and forth about it all week in his head. He has some material. He actually has a lot of material. For the last couple of weeks, it’s felt like he hasn’t been able to stop writing. He’s had a lot of feelings to work through, a lot of moments to draw inspiration from. His hesitation comes from the material of his work. It isn’t subtle, mainly because he hasn’t been writing for other people but for himself. And so much of the subject matter in his work is about Nick. About he and Nick. About his feelings about them. It’s even gotten close to making him feel pathetic over just how much he’s been able to write about it all.

He knows there’s no way to actually explain that to Manny. Despite how unofficial they are, he knows how Manny feels about him. And how he feels about Nick.

“I’m still on the fence about it,” Charlie admits to him.

Manny’s about to say something, but Charlie’s phone buzzes on the table and interrupts him. Charlie’s grateful for it.

He picks up the phone and sees a text from Nick.

He opens it, tilting his screen slightly away from Manny’s prying eyes as subtly as possible. It isn’t for any particular reason. It’s not like Charlie’s trying to hide anything from Manny. There’s also nothing to hide. But he still believes his business is his business.

Nick N.: I’m omw! Lectures ran a bit longer than expected but should be there in like 2 min.

Charlie types out a text back, instructing Nick where to find him in the library and then locks his phone. He places it face down on the table and doesn’t miss the way Manny eyes the movement. He doesn’t comment on it though.

“All good?” Manny asks nonchalantly, but Charlie can hear the tension beneath his words.

“Yeah,” Charlie avoids meeting Manny’s eyes, pretending to be distracted with his French coursework laid out in front of him, “just Nick letting me know he’s running a bit late but is almost here.”

“I think that is the strangest friendship you have,” Manny comments, though Charlie doesn’t remember asking for his opinion.

He feels his annoyance grow at Manny’s unnecessary commentary.

“And why’s that?” Charlie asks, his voice terse.

“I just don’t understand what you two have in common,” Manny says, and Charlie hear the distaste in his voice, “like, what do you two even talk about?”

Manny has no idea how mistaken he is. How Charlie has more in common with Nick than he does Manny, than he does most people. And he agrees, it’s odd given how little they have in common on the surface. If people were mainly to take one look at either of them, he’s sure they’d think the same as Manny. On the outside, it seems they couldn’t be any more different. But it’s everything that people don’t know, that they don’t understand, and that they can’t see about either of them, that makes whatever it is they have plausible. Underneath the surface, they’re made of the same parts.

Charlie doesn’t feel the need to defend that though. Of all people, to Manny.

“Why do you dislike him so much?” Charlie asks instead, wondering if Manny’s dislike for Nick is just over the jealousy he feels over their friendship or if it’s more than that.

         When Manny isn’t quick to answer, Charlie turns his head to look at this face. He raises his eyebrows at him in questioning, but Manny simply looks away and down at his lap, twirling his pencil in his hands.

         “It’s --,” he stops short of his full answer, and at the lasts second, seems to change it, “I don’t really know him, honestly. But I don’t know – I just don’t trust him.”

         “Well, I do,” Charlie tells him.

         “Charlie,” Manny pleads, and when he looks up at Charlie, Charlie can see genuine concern in his features. Charlie’s about to pry, but then he feels a familiar presence. When he turns forward, he sees Nick walking towards them.

         God, he is breathtaking.

         He’s wearing a regular baby blue t-shirt that hugs his torso just right. It’s loose enough to not look pretentious, but tight enough to give way to his muscular physique. He has jean shorts that show off his thick thighs and those black vans he seems to love to wear. His hair is perfectly parted, as it always is, and he has his backpack slung over only one of his shoulders looking like something right out of a movie. Charlie doesn’t think he’s ever found anyone as physically attractive as he does Nick Nelson.

         They meet eyes, and Nick’s face breaks into a grin. Charlie’s does the same.

         He can hear Manny huff next to him.

         When Nick finally reaches the table, he greets Charlie first.

         “Hi.”

         “Hi.”

         “’Sup, Nelson?” Manny inserts himself.

         Nick’s gaze flicks over to Manny, “hello. You’re…,” he shakes his head, an airy laugh escaping his mouth that Charlie cannot make out to be fabricated or natural, “sorry, what was your name again?”

         “Manny,” he answers with finality.

         “Right!” Nick snaps his fingers, like the memory is coming back to him, “right. Sorry. How’re you?”

         “Not as good as you, I guess,” Manny says, and Charlie can taste the venom in his every word, “heard that first game of the season was one for the books. Scouts should be flying out for the next game.”

         Charlie can see the tenseness in Nick’s demeanor at the mention of rugby and scouts. He hides it well, but there’s something about Nick Nelson that allows Charlie to see through the masquerades. Most of them anyway – some things about Nick are still out of reach even for Charlie.

         “So, the rumor goes,” Nick answers, his voice even though it’s clear to Charlie he’s trying to cut it short.

         Manny opens his mouth, and Charlie’s about to speak over him to stop him from saying anything to push the situation further. But Charlie doesn’t end up having to do so, because whatever Manny was thinking of replying with, he seems to think better of. He shuts his mouth a moment later, and then begins picking up his own books laid out on the table.

         Nick and Charlie don’t’ say anything as Manny picks up his things, sticking them into his own backpack before standing.

         “Well, I’ll leave you two to it then,” Manny hovers over Charlie and places a soft hand on his shoulder, “see you later, maybe?”

         They don’t have plans to meet up later tonight, something they’re both aware of. But he knows Manny can cling to the fact that their meet ups are usually spur of the moment decisions anyway, and it isn’t entirely out of character for him to bring up that way if Charlie were to call him out on it. But they both know why he does it and that isn’t coincidental or innocent.

         He’s sending a message to Nick.

         “We’ll see,” Charlie tells him, sending a message to Manny.

         Manny gives him a small nod, “I’ll text you,” then he lifts his head to look Nick in the eye, “see you ‘round, Nelson.”

         Nick brings two fingers to salute Manny, and that’s how they say their goodbyes to one another. A moment later, he leaves them. Charlie looks up at Nick, half expecting him to take the seat next to him, the same one Manny had just been occupying. But Nick takes the empty seat across from Charlie, only deflating some of Charlie’s wishful thinking. Getting a full view of Nick’s face sitting across from him is not something Charlie would ever complain about, but he’s always willing to be as physically close as possible to Nick as nick allows him to be.

          “So,” Nick says, his voice light though the tension in his shoulders gives him away, “es-tu pret a commencer?”

         Charlie’s cheeks redden instantly at Nick’s voice speaking in fluent French to him, the same way they did the first time Nick ever shocked him with his knowledge of the language. And he’s left to question his own decisions. Because how is Charlie meant to focus, meant to learn anything that he’s meant to about the language, when all he can focus on when Nick speaks it back to him is the way his voice would sound saying things he wants to hear from him?

         Things that are not at all academic.

         Fucking focus, he tells himself.

         He shifts in his seat, sitting up straighter to remind himself that this is meant to be educative and not just an excuse to hear Nick Nelson speak French to him for hours on end. Supplying him with enough content to revisit in the darkness and privacy of his own bedroom.

         “I think you said something about starting?” Charlie says, unsure of himself.

         Nick gives a small laugh, “I asked you if you were ready to start. So, close enough.”

         “I’m really trying,” Charlie says.

         “You’re doing well,” Nick assures him, “but I’m here to help with whatever you need me to.”

         They stare at each other from across the table, Charlie thinking of all the things he’d like Nick to help him with that have nothing to do with the coursework. And are probably not appropriate for two people who’ve decided to be friends. He wonders if Nick is thinking the same thing. Knowing that it doesn’t matter either way. Nick told him they were friends. And Charlie didn’t disagree or fight him on it.

         He knows it’s what best for them. Things are too complicated on both of their sides. Charlie’s still learning what intimacy looks like for him. Nick’s still figuring out what everything he’s yet to discover about himself looks like. It doesn’t stop the desire that crashes Charlie into Nick like so many waves do, but he keeps it at bay. Controlled.

         Charlie brings himself to break the moment and flips his book towards Nick, “just start with the basics. I think the goal at the end of this tutoring session is for us to at least be able to exchange a few, uncomplicated sentences in conversation that I understand at least eighty-percent of.”

         Nick’s signature lop-sided smile makes an appearance, and Charlie’s brain threatens to melt into itself, “very specific metrics.”

         “I like to be clear. And precise”

         “I appreciate that,” Nick tells him, “Gives me clear objectives.”

         “Shall we then?”

         “Oui,” Nick answers, and then he winks at Charlie. It nearly sends his heart into cardiac arrest, and Charlie really starts questioning his life decisions. He’s glad Nick’s attention is quickly redirected to Charlie’s textbook, so Charlie is able to catch his breath out of Nick’s line of sight.

         The tutoring session lasts about ninety minutes in total. The time flies because even though Nick takes his role as Charlie’s French tutor seriously, and they focus a lot on the coursework, there’s a lot of laughter and banter that goes on during their tutoring session as well. They get sidetracked a couple of times, joking about nonsense and then talking about things unrelated to the course work. It’s like they can’t help it when they’re around one another. It’s easier to be lighter on their feet, the weight of whatever feels like it’s holding them down evaporating when they’re in each other’s presence.

         Charlie knows being in Nick’s company and enjoying it as much as he does every time, is as dangerous as it is euphoric. Charlie’s learned the hard way that lying to himself usually leads him down dead-end streets or worse – to horrific collisions. So, he’s not denying that he has a bit of a crush on Nick Nelson. Not to himself at least. But what he’s starting to become fearsome of is that this isn’t just a crush. That his feelings run much deeper than what a crush entails. That every time he basks in Nick’s company, he starts to miss it even more when it’s gone. And that pure longing will lead him down a road he won’t be able to drive off.

         They’re finishing laughing over a retelling of a time Nick’s older brother, David, made a complete ass of himself trying to pick up a girl in French. He thought he had called her gracious when really, he’d called her fat. She’d slapped him, and Nick had been unable to contain his laughter over the whole exchange the same way they’re barely able to contain their laughter now that he’s telling Charlie the story.

         “Okay, okay,” Nick says, and then he’s composing himself, “let’s put it to the test if this has been a successful tutoring session or not. I’ll start it out, and you answer the best you can.”

         Charlie nods, “yes, Professor Nelson.”

         He doesn’t miss the way Nick’s cheeks flush with color at the improvised nickname. Charlie is always so thankful that Nick’s complexion doesn’t help him hide his emotions or reactions. He does enough hiding as is.

         Nick coughs into his fist like he’s choking on Charlie’s words, and Charlie feels smug that he can do that to him. It seems only fair, giving all the effects Nick has on Charlie.

         “Avez-vous trouve ce tutorat utile?” Nick asks and it’s Charlie’s turn to try and hide his own blush. He’s been hearing Nick speak French for the last hour and a half, but when he speaks in full sentences, he can’t help but feel wanton desire pool over his insides.

         He tries to focus on the actual words though, reminding himself that this a test.

         He goes over the words in his head, and he’s pretty sure he’s understanding what Nick is saying.

         “Oui,” he smiles, knowing he could leave it there but pushing himself if just to impress Nick a little bit, “tu es un, uh,” he laughs at himself, trying to think of how to translate the word in his head, “tres bon, um. Professuer?”

         Nick laughs and the sound is as sweet as sugar.

         “Attention au surnom. Ton petite ami pourrait etre jaloux que to m’appelles professeur.”

         It’s a lot of words for Charlie to process and translate in his head, so it takes him a moment to somewhat make out what Nick’s just said. He repeats it in his head a few times, unsure of whether or not he’s actually understood any of it. Because if he’s translated correctly, he thinks Nick has just mentioned something about Charlie’s boyfriend being jealous of a professor. And the whole thing makes very little sense to him.

         Charlie’s eyebrows pinch, “wait. ‘Mon petit ami’? Doesn’t that mean ‘boyfriend’?”

         Nick looks sheepishly down to their textbook before his eyes meet Charlie’s again, “oui. C’est Manny ton petit ami?”

         Charlie’s head is spinning. The conversation Nick is trying to have feels like one they should have in a language they’re both fluent in.

         “English, please,” Charlie asks of him.

         Nick obliges, “I just said, ‘isn’t Manny your boyfriend’?”

         His eyes dart back and forth between the textbook and Charlie’s face, an indication that he’s flustered by his own question. The question itself perplexes Charlie, and he doesn’t know exactly where it comes from.

         “Um,” Charlie tries, “why would you think that?”

         Nick seemingly struggles to hold his gaze, but does so as he explains, “well, I’ve seen you two together a couple of times. You seem… close. And he doesn’t really seem to like me very much so I – I just figured that made the most sense.”

         When Nick pieces it together the way he just has – it does make the most sense. Charlie can see where he got the idea from, though it’s entirely wrong.

         “I could see why you would think that, but you’ve got it wrong. Manny is not my petit ami. He’s just my ami.”

         Nick nods in understanding, “good job using those words correctly.”

         He knows Nick has gotten what he’s wanted from the conversation, and now he’s pulling away again. One thing about Nick that remains consistent is his ability to do that – push towards Charlie, and then pull back in the same breath.

Charlie finds himself at a crossroads. There’s something that’s been lingering in the back of his mind all week, and if he wants to bring it up, he doesn’t see where he’d ever find a better or more fitting opportunity. He can let it go, of course. Let the moment pass him by, leave Nick with the answers he so was so obviously seeking and leave himself wondering about the questions he so desperately wants to ask.

He decides on the latter before they’re able to properly move on, seizing the opportunity.

He does his best to ask it as seamlessly as possible, “et Amaya? Est-elle ta petite amie?” 

Just asking the question makes Charlie feel sick. He’s pretty sure he knows the answer to the question he’s just asked, and that’s why it hardly scares him to do so. But it’s the only question he’ll bring himself to outwardly ask. Because the question he actually wants to ask is outside the parameters they’ve created for one another. Regardless, it still opens up the pathway that leads him towards the answer he’s been wanting to know for the last week.

He knows it’s not necessarily his business but could argue the same for what Nick’s just asked him. He argues with himself that it’s his curiosity getting the best of him, and sometimes in order for curiosities to make waste they need to be snuffed out. Extinguished. All he is, is curious. Curious about what happened that night after Nick’s post-rugby match party. He’d been meant to take Amaya home – looking after her since she’d clearly been incapable of looking after herself that night. An act of kindness Charlie should’ve seen as chivalrous, but really just caused his skin to feel pricked by needles. Once Nick had safely gotten Amaya home, he was meant to text Charlie when he got back into his own flat. But that text never came. Charlie had pathetically checked his phone repeatedly that night. He’d even not gone over to Manny’s after the party, making the excuse of him being too exhausted. But he hadn’t been too exhausted to stay up another hour, just waiting for Nick to text him. To let him know he was in his flat. Safe and away from Amaya.

The text never came. Not that night anyway. It came the next morning, as it always does. But Nick didn’t mention much from the night before. He had only thanked Charlie once again for his help and asked Charlie how the rest of the night had gone.

Awful without you, was the truth and what Charlie had wanted to reply. But something entirely less pathetic and needy was what he had actually replied. When he threw the question back at Nick, Nick told him it’d gone better than expected but left it at that. And since then, Charlie has wanted to know what ‘better than expected’ means. Given the knowledge of Nick and Amaya’s history Charlie has, albeit limited, his mind conjured up the worst of ideas. Ideas of Nick’s skin tangled up with Amaya’s skin in ways Charlie’s skin never would be with their titled relationship as ‘friendship’ plagued his thoughts. It sent Charlie’s skin ablaze in the worst of ways. And it still does any time he thinks of it. Like he is right now. Thinking as he waits for Nick’s response.

Nick raises a brow, “non,” then he shakes his head once, “Amaya’s never been my girlfriend. We were – you know.”

Charlie can’t help himself as he says, “yeah. I just thought maybe that was a thing again because the other night you took her home and I mean, I thought you’d spent the night because you never told me you got home. Which obviously you didn’t have to—”

Nick immediately cuts him off, “Sorry, that’s completely on me for not texting. I was just exhausted from the entire night. The game, the party, the – everything. But no, I didn’t – we’re not – we’re just friends now.”

“Like us?” Charlie asks, the words tumbling out of his mouth before he can stop them. Or think better of them.

Nick doesn’t answer right away. Charlie sees him swallow, like he’s washing away words that are threatening to spill out that he’s not sure he wants to speak. Charlie wishes he’d just say whatever was the first thing that came to his mind. But Nick’s mind still had padlocks all over certain areas. Inaccessible to Charlie.

“Yeah, I guess,” Nick replies, looking away momentarily before his gaze returns to Charlie, “probably not as close.”

Charlie feels relief at Nick’s answer. In part, he’s relieved that Nick and Amaya didn’t sleep together that night – though he realizes his hypocrisy. And understanding that he’s never cared that much who any of his other friends are or aren’t sleeping with. The other part of him is relieved that even if he and Amaya live under the same category, Nick regards their friendship as holding more significance. Something else he’s never done with any of his other friends – cared about where he ranks on their list.

How much longer will we be able to keep up these charades?

“You probably are one of my closest friends at the moment,” Charlie admits.

Nick gives him a look he can’t decode, “Same here. Which is probably why Manny hates me.”

“He doesn’t hate you,” Charlie defends, though he’s not sure the depth of Manny’s dislike for Nick, only that it exists.

“It’s fine,” Nick gives a laugh that feels inauthentic and not entirely like it is fine, “people can get territorial when they’re sleeping with someone.”

Nick’s words, and the nonchalance in which he speaks them in, freezes Charlie in his seat. He knows he’s never really hidden to anyone what he and Manny have or don’t have, but he never expected Nick to air it out so blatantly. So easily. So unaffectedly.

Charlie looks down at his notepad for a moment, wanting to collect his own thoughts before he speaks again.

“Charlie,” Nick says gently, and when Charlie looks back up at him, he can see the apprehension in his stare, “sorry if I overstepped. I didn’t mean –”

“You didn’t,” Charlie answers, though he’s not sure whether he means it, “I just – I didn’t know it was that obvious.”

“I mean,” Nick shrugs with one shoulder, “his behavior towards you, his behavior towards me, all of it. It kind of gives it away.”

“Just because I’m sleeping with him doesn’t mean he’s my boyfriend though. I didn’t just lie about that.”

“of course not,” Nick says understandingly, “I slept with Amaya consistently for two years and I never considered her my girlfriend, or anything close to it, either. I wasn’t trying to insinuate you lied.”

Charlie feels hot jealousy over Nick’s words. Words that only pay homage to what Charlie’s already been told by others. To what he already knows. Hearing Nick speak of its existence however sends new imagery into Charlie’s head he’d rather ignore. Mixed with the jealousy are also feelings of him being bothered. Bothered that he can’t shake off a past relationship between Amaya and Nick, and Nick seems hardly frazzled by a similar relationship in the present time between Charlie and Manny.

All irrational thoughts. All still looming and circling around in his head like hungry sharks smelling blood in the water.

He changes the subject, “honestly, I’ve never even really had a boyfriend.”

“Really?” Nick asks, a hint of disbelief in his tone.

“Yeah,” Charlie confirms, “I’ve never been in a relationship.”

“I guess that makes two of us,” Nick says, making Charlie feel seen.

“Not even with…” Charlie doesn’t say his name, but he knows Nick will know who he’s alluding to.

“That was probably the closest I’ve gotten,” Nick says, “but – it was too complicated to be an actual relationship, I think. Anything before that is either too juvenile to count or too unserious to consider.”

At Nick’s words, a face Charlie hasn’t thought of in ages comes to the forefront of his mind. The image his mind comes up with is very life-like, as if it hasn’t been years since Charlie’s seen him and only mere hours. His memory does a good job at getting down every detail of Ben’s face it can remember. It seems to remember everything – even the smug expression he’d always give Charlie. Like he knew something Charlie didn’t and would never know.

 Ben. Whose handsome face used to send his stomach into knots of longing that eventually turned into embers of dread, and now just causes him to look back on their time together as time wasted.

It’s the closest Charlie ever got to a relationship too, and it seems so pitiable now. That Charlie had ever considered what they had to even scratch the surface of what a relationship should be. Of what love could be. When Ben barely even treated Charlie like a person, much less an equal partner. But nowadays, Charlie doesn’t feel things like he did when he was with Ben. He has enjoyable sex, and he never leaves a partner feeling dissatisfied with the experience. But those bright eyes he once looked over at Ben with haven’t existed since. Or maybe –

He looks up at Nick, a scoff escaping his mouth involuntarily.

Nick looks at him quizzically, “what?”

Charlie shakes his head, the image of Ben fading, “just – you made me think of the one person who I also thought I’d had the closest thing to a relationship with at some point. Looking back at it now, it’s truly ridiculous that I ever thought that.”

“Why?”

“Because he was a dick. And treated me like a prop. But even now, that I see it exactly for what it was, he really was the only person I ever got close enough with to think of it like that. Even though he didn’t deserve it.”

“He sounds like a massive knob,” Nick concludes, and Charlie thinks he doesn’t know just how much that’s true.

“He was,” Charlie says, “he just took and took from me. I wanted love, and it was like he was a shark in the water that could sniff that out. But instead of giving me love, he took what I could offer and manipulated the situation just enough that it felt like he was giving me even a fraction in return.”

Charlie’s mind combs through the memories. The braids of lies Ben would always feed him, woven tightly with the bits of affection he’d show him when it was convenient.

“In private, he’d touch me like I was scared. In public, he’d pretend I was nothing more than gum stuck to the bottom of his shoe. I didn’t love myself enough back then to stop it,” Charlie says, emotions swirling inside his chest he hasn’t felt in a long time.

Nick’s expression changes, and the look in his eyes is empathetic. His fingers twitch on the table, a subtle move Charlie could easily miss if he wasn’t always so aware of everything that is Nick Nelson.

“He sounds like an absolute waste of space. Only an absolute idiot would treat you that way. You deserved – deserve better.”

“I did. And I do.”

Nick sighs, like he’s trying to release some of his own emotions, “you’ll find it.”

You’re better. You’re better than better – you’re everything. Are we really just friends?

Charlie’s words never make it out of his mouth. Instead, they stay trapped in the same vault he holds all his longings for Nick in. He doesn’t know how much longer it will be able to stay locked away.

“I will,” Charlie nods, like it could ever be anyone else but Nick.

It has to be, he reminds himself.

Because Nick and Charlie are just friends. A decision Nick made clear as day, and Charlie followed like he had no protests.

Nick clears his throat and looks down at his phone to check the time. Charlie knows their session is coming to an end. The worst part about being in Nick’s presence is that there’s always an expiration to it.

“I think we might need to conclude today’s study session,” Nick says.

Charlie doesn’t fight him, “that’s alright. Thanks. I feel like I learned quite a bit.”

“Good,” Nick gives him a half smile, “I’m glad I could be helpful. Do this again next week?”

“Yup.”

They begin picking up their things without making much conversation. Charlie’s eyes try to refrain from stopping and staring at Nick, but he loses the battle from time to time. It’s hard not to look at something that is so dazzling, and in such proximity. As Charlie tries to keep busy, he hears Nick zip up his backpack.

“Uh,” Nick says, and Charlie looks up, feeling permission to do so without feeling creepy, “tomorrow’s slam poetry night, isn’t it?”

Charlie nods slowly, “yeah.”

“Are you performing?”

Fuck. Me.

“I don’t know yet, honestly,” Charlie says, not giving Nick the explanation he also didn’t give Manny. For entirely different reasons. Or perhaps, too similar of reasons.

“So, there’s a possibility?”

“Maybe?” Charlie says, unsure of anything.

“Then I’ll see you there,” Nick tells him, a smile appearing on his lips.

“Nick,” Charlie says, a warning tone to his words, “you don’t have to. I – I truly don’t know if I will. I don’t want to waste your time.”

“Even the possibility is worth it,” Nick stands, pulling his closed backpack over his shoulder, “et meme si vous ne jouez pas, le temps passe avec vous n’est jamais du temps perdu.”

Charlie has no idea what Nick’s just said, but he’s not sure it entirely matters. The accent on his voice doesn’t allow his brain to properly compute anything.

“I have no idea what you just said,” Charlie admits, trying to keep his breathing from turning labored.

“Probably better that way,” Nick says, giving Charlie a mischievous, lop-sided smile that will stay engraved in Charlie’s mind for the rest of the day, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Charlie can never say no to that.

“Okay.”

“I’ll text you,” Nick says, backing up to exit the library. Leaving Charlie sat exactly where he is.

“Yeah,” Charlie says, a smile involuntarily taking over his face.

They stare at each other for a bit longer, Nick slowly backing away. It continues until Nick is forced to turn to exit the library without bumping into someone. Or worse, tripping over his feet.

Charlie stays sat, making no move to leave even though he has nothing left to do in the library. Nothing else really keeping him from standing and heading back to his flat. He could study some more, but really – he knows what he wants to do isn’t that. Instead, Charlie opens his notepad that he’s yet to put away. He grabs his pen and stains his page with ink that traces over the words he doesn’t dare admit to out loud.

Charlie had texted Nick to let him know that he was going to head out soon to the campus bar for slam poetry night and made a not-so-subtle attempt at asking if he wanted to walk over together. Nick had texted back quickly, letting Charlie know he was already there and would see him soon. That had been enough to wilt away at any bravery Charlie has managed to muster in the last twenty-four hours. He’d convinced himself up to seventy-five percent to possibly perform something he’d penned down just the day before, when Nick had left him at the library. But now, he feels unsettled. He feels the doubt creeping in on him at every corner of his mind. It isn’t just because Nick’s not going to walk with him to the slam poetry night. He’s not even sure why that’s even ruffled his feathers, but it’s everything. Maybe he was hoping in that short walk he’d find a glimpse of what he’s always waiting for. The glimpse of something more. And that would have been enough to convince him to just go for it.

Charlie’s shaken out of his thoughts by a knock on his door.

“Come in,” he calls out.

Unsurprisingly, Amy emerges from the other side.

“Manny’s here,” she announces.

“Great,” Charlie says, but even to his own ears it sounds flat.

Amy snickers, “maybe you should have another talk with Manny about the expectations of your relationship. I don’t think he’s getting it.”

Charlie sighs heavily, “I’ve made my expectations perfectly clear from the start, Amy. If he’s still clinging onto the idea of ‘more’ even though that is not at all what I promised him, then that’s his problem.”

The words are clipped, cold and detached. Entirely unlike himself. And the irony hits him just as brutally as the harshness of his own words.

Isn’t that the exact same thing I’m doing with Nick?

No, he quickly answers himself, no.

He’s not sure repeating it will make it true. And that’s even more frustrating than the entire situation.

Amy gives Charlie an all-too-knowing look, “what’re you pissed about right now?”

“Nothing,” Charlie answers, though it comes out exactly like if he is.

But he isn’t. Or at least he’s not trying to be. He doesn’t know why he feels irritation scratching at his skin. He doesn’t have the answers he wants. And yet, maybe that’s exactly the answer.

“Charlie,” Amy says, stepping into his room and closing the door behind him.

He knows what she wants, but he can’t do this right now.

“Amy, don’t,” he tells her, “Let’s just go. Is Jess ready?”

At the mention of Jess, it’s Amy’s demeanor that shifts. Charlie’s been noticing something off between them the last couple of days. But he’s been too stuck in his own head, in his own worries, to ask. He’s honestly also been scared to. Whenever he’s tried to breach the conversation to Amy about whatever it is Amy and Jess have going on, she’s retreated. As much as open book Amy seems to be about everything, when it comes to Jess, it’s like she completely shuts down. Closes everyone off from prying further.

“Jess isn’t going,” Amy says, “she’s not feeling well.”

Charlie knows it’s a fib. It has to be – considering Jess had been strumming her guitar in their living room, seeming perfectly fine just two hours ago before Amy had returned home from wherever she’d been. But he doesn’t call her out on it or ask what exactly it is that’s going on. They don’t really have the time, and given where his headspace currently is, he doesn’t have the capacity either.

“Okay,” is all he says, and then because he doesn’t want Amy to make it a bigger deal than it has to be in person he adds, “Nick will be there. He’s joining us.”

“Nelson?” Amy raises her brows.

Charlie nods, “the one and only.”

It sounds bitter to his own ears. It makes him feel tainted.

Amy’s face transforms into one of delight. Happiness radiates from her smile. All it does it push pins of that irritation that had been scratching at Charlie’s skin right through it.

“Cool!” Amy says enthusiastically, “he’s actually pretty decent company.”

Charlie has the sudden urge to make her stuff the words right back into her mouth.

“What’s your fascination with Nick Nelson? Are you into him or something?” the words are harsh and bathed in anger. An anger he can’t place the origin of.

Amy looks disgusted by Charlie’s insinuation, “what are you on about? Have you completely forgotten I’m a lesbian?”

“No, obviously not, Amy. But anytime Nick is around, it’s like you cling to him. Or you try to. It just doesn’t make sense.”

Charlie never got into it with Amy after music night. But that entire night, he’d been annoyed at her closeness with Nick. It wasn’t only because he’d wanted to be in her shoes. It wasn’t only because Manny’s attention wasn’t sufficient, and what he’d truly wanted was Nick’s, and Amy seemed to be getting most of it. But it was also because Amy seemed to be seeking that attention from him just as much as Nick had seemed to want to give it to her. They’d been practically inseparable, and Charlie had been a background character. Or at least, that’s how it had felt like to Charlie. And it made him angry as much as it did uncomfortable. He’d wanted to tell Amy something about it the days that followed, but after everything that happened with Nick – he hadn’t. He’d given her a bit of a cold shoulder, but he never actually brought it up. He’d thought it was maybe a one-off thing too. But every time they’ve all been around each other, it’s as if Amy butts in. He knows she’s outgoing and abrasive and has a presence that demands to be felt, but to Charlie it feels like she’s always butting into his moments with Nick. Inserting herself where she has no business to.

He feels like he’s reached a breaking point where he can’t just swipe it under the rug anymore.

“I’m just trying to get to know him, Charlie,” Amy tells him, and the hard lines in the side of her mouth tell him she’s not happy about his accusations.

“But why?” Charlie asks, his voice dripped in frustration, “you’ve been on this same campus with him for three years. Why do you suddenly care for him?”

“Because of you,” Amy whisper yells, “why the fuck else would I care?”

“What do you mean ‘because of me’?” Charlie asks, still not understanding the logic behind any of her reasonings. His head pounds with confusion.

“Charlie, I’ve been trying to get to know Nick for you. To make sure that he’s not – that he won’t hurt you,” she admits, and before Charlie can delve further into it, she continues, “I know you two are just friends, but I know firsthand how complicated ‘just friends’ can become when not all feelings involved are strictly friendly. And no matter what you say, I’ve seen how you look at him, okay? I’m not blind. And believe it or not, I care about my friends. And I look out for them. I consider you a friend. But if you’re jealous and think I could or would even do something like that, I’m not sure we really are friends.”

Charlie instantly feels guilty. Guilty for assuming the worst of Amy’s intentions when all she’s ever done is exactly what she’s just said – tried to look out for him. Perhaps her approach hasn’t always been the best, but when Charlie first met her, he told her he was trying to go to Leeds for a change. For a reinvention he absolutely needed. And she’s been instrumental in helping him make those changes. In making him break out of his own chains.

“Amy, I’m sorry,” he says sincerely, “of course we’re friends, I just—”

She stops him, “honestly, I don’t care. I’m ready to get out of this fucking place where it seems that everyone I live with doesn’t know me very well. So, let’s just go.”

She doesn’t give him a second to defend himself. She turns swiftly and opens the door, walking through it and disappearing from his vision quickly. Charlie wants to run after her and talk it through. Get to a solution and atone for his sins. But once glance at the time on his phone lets Charlie know that there’s not time for such a lengthy, and heavy conversation.

He grabs his folded piece of paper with words that feel too personal to speak and yet too important to keep just on paper and slides it into his back pocket. He tells himself he’ll decide once he’s there.

Charlie steps out of his room to find Manny waiting for him in the kitchen. Amy is nowhere in sight.

“Hey,” Manny beams.

Charlie’s heart deflates at his inability to meet him there, “hey. Where’s Amy?”

“Uh, she said she’d wait outside.”

“We should get going,” is all Charlie says in return.

He makes his way past his kitchen and heads for his door, but a hand on his elbow stops him just as his hand reaches the knob.

Charlie turns his face reluctantly and finds Manny staring at him with worried eyes.

“Everything okay?” he asks, his eyes searching Charlie’s face for answers he’ll never be able to find.

“We’re late,” is what Charlie replies with.

Manny’s look of disappointment isn’t lost on Charlie, but there’s too much disappointment to go around for it to be a priority to him anyway. So, he opens the door and steps outside, knowing Manny will follow without a fuss. He finds Amy leaning against one of the pillars, phone in her hands. When she looks up, she quickly looks away from Charlie and turns to walk towards the campus bar.

She walks ahead of Charlie and Manny the entire way there, and Charlie keeps the reasonable distance between them knowing it isn’t the time or place for them to continue the conversation they were having in his room. He knows they need to finish it at some point though, he just knows it won’t be right now.

By the time they entire the campus bar, tensions are running high. Not only between Amy and Charlie, but also between Charlie and Manny. He can feel Manny’s apprehension rolling off him like waves. His nuisance with Charlie’s attitude towards him. The night is off to a bad start, and Charlie is hoping Nick will serve as the light he very much needs. He finds himself desperate for Nick’s golden rays of sunshine to hit him and bring back his glow. Shed daylight on nightfall.

But when they walk into the campus bar, and Charlie’s eyes easily find Nick as they always do, it isn’t sunshine that hits him like daylight. Instead, it’s rolling clouds of gray that fill him with dread. Because at the campus bar is Nick, looking as handsome as he always does. He’s wearing tight denim jeans that hug his thick thighs just right, a faded black jacket that excellently shows the broadness of his shoulders, and a smile aimed directly at Amaya. She’s on the other side of the bar, bartending. She’s wearing what most of the bartenders do – an all-black outfit. She specifically has on a black tank-top that shows off her cleavage and her hair is picked up halfway, making pieces of it fall into her face like some sort of goddess. She’s making a drink while sharing a laugh with Nick, and it makes Charlie seethe with jealousy.

“I’m going to find Darcy and Tara. They texted they got us a table,” Amy says to Charlie. When Charlie looks down at her, he can tell that she’s caught him staring with the same sour expression he can still feel on his face.

Usually, Charlie would care that he’s been caught. Today, he doesn’t have enough strength in him to.

“Okay,” Charlie tells her.

“I’ll let you know where so you can come over once you grab Nick,” she says dryly.

Charlie just nods. Amy walks away and Charlie so much hopes Manny will follow her and wait for Charlie at the table too. But he doesn’t of course. He stays put, right by Charlie’s side.

Charlie doesn’t address him. Instead, he walks straight to the bar, crashing right into Nick and Amaya’s bubble of laughter.

When Amaya catches sight of Charlie she smiles, and Charlie forces himself to do the same. It only comes much more naturally when his gaze slides over to Nick on the other side of the bar. He’s leaning against it with one of his elbows, but the moment he sees Charlie he stands up straighter. His smile remains, reaching his eyes and Charlie wonders just how much of it comes from him and how much of it is due to Amaya.

“Hi,” Charlie greets him with a small wave.

Nick’s eyes dart in between him and Manny before landing back on Charlie, “hey, Charlie,” he nods at Manny, “Manny.”

Manny waves in return.

         The four of them stand around in an uncanny silence, eyes looking at each other with uncertainty.

         God, this is fucking awkward.

         Nick tries to slice through it.

         “Charlie, this is Amaya,” he introduces them, as if Charlie needs the introduction. It burns him that Amaya likely does, completely unaware of his existence. “Amaya, this is Charlie. And his mate, Manny.”

         Amaya gives Charlie and Manny a friendly smile, “it’s nice to meet you guys.”

         Charlie does something so unlike him in that moment.

         “We’ve actually met before,” he tells her, remembering the one time their paths crossed out in their hallway. She’d actually just been leaving Nick’s house, after they probably did what Charlie would very much like to not think about. “One time outside our hallway. I bumped into you accidentally and you told to me to watch where the fuck I was going.”

         Amaya’s smile drops quickly at the mention of Charlie’s words. There’s a flicker of recognition in her eyes, and for a moment Charlie thinks she’s going to say something snarky in return. He’s almost hopeful that she will, so he’ll have somewhere to rightfully place all the anger he’s felt building inside of him in the last twenty-four hours. Maybe longer than that.

         Amaya composes herself quickly, “I have a slight recollection of that. I’m sorry – I was being an absolute bitch. Amy was right to put me in my place. I hope we can start over.”

         Charlie feels like an absolute tool by her gracious response. How much of it is sincere or just for show because Nick’s eyes are hard pressed on their entire interaction, Charlie can’t tell. But he can’t deny that she looks and sounds honest. Her eyes hold no malice behind them, and the small smile she offers Charlie afterwards lacks the confidence Charlie expects it to have if she was putting on a show.

         Charlie is caught off guard by it, given everything he’s ever learned about her from Amy.

         “Uh,” he struggles to find the right words, “it’s alright. Sorry I just brought that up that way.”

         He feels his cheeks heat with embarrassment, grateful for the low lighting of the bar and his complexion.

         “Honestly, I respect that,” she beams, “how about I get you and your friend a drink on the house before you take a seat, and the show starts? An olive branch.”

         Charlie tries to smile sincerely, “you don’t have to do that.”

         “I want to,” she says.

         Before Charlie can say much more, Nick cuts in, “oi, I had to pay for my drink.”

         “I wasn’t unnecessarily rude to you lately,” she defends herself.

         “Debatable,” Nick argues, but it’s playful and it’s banter, and it makes Charlie want to claw at his own skin.

         Amaya rolls her eyes and turns away from them to go, Charlie assumes, make their drinks.

         When she disperses, Charlie’s unaware of the white-knuckle grip he has on the bar top until Nick’s voice breaks through his jumbled thoughts.

         “Char,” Nick says gently, “you okay?”

         Charlie’s head turns to find Nick leaned in, closer than he was moments ago. His face is always so ethereal so up close, each freckle creating constellations in Charlie’s mind he wants to revisit every night. But it’s the nickname that sticks itself to the walls of Charlie’s brain. His heart too.

         “Char?” Charlie questions, a playful smile adorning his own lips.

         Nick looks slightly embarrassed. He opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. Then closes his mouth, like a fish out of water, gasping for air. Then he licks his lips, and Charlie follows the movement with his eyes.

         Nick finally lets out a breathy laugh, “that kind of just came out.”

         “I like it,” Charlie admits. He’s never had anyone call him that before, but he likes the way anything sounds around Nick’s tongue.

         “Do you?” Nick leans against the bar top, his shoulder barely missing Charlie as he does. His head entirely turned to him, tilted slightly, and Charlie sees the glimpse of a version of Nick he’s only ever seen the first time they ever met in the library. A teasing nature that felt a lot like flirting that lit up Charlie’s insides. The same way it does now.

         “I do,” Charlie says, and if he leans his weight a bit more to his left, no one needs to know it was intentional.

         Nick’s about to say something when Manny speaks over them.

         “I’m going to go find the table,” he announces, “I’ll text you, Charlie.”

         Charlie looks over his shoulder to Manny, who has his jaw set and his face stone cold.

         “Okay,” Charlie replies, feeling only slightly guilty that he forgot all about his existence the moment Nick was within the same vicinity, “thanks.”

         “Sure,” Manny replies, and then he walks away. Charlie feels bad that he’s happy about it.

         Nick shakes his head, a smile on his lips, “told you he hates me.”

         “Who cares,” Charlie says, because something about him tonight is not allowing him to hold back. Maybe he’s tired of it. Tired of holding back everything he’s actually feeling and trading it in for the way everyone expects him to feel.

         Nick observes him, “you’re a little feisty tonight.”

         “Maybe I’m just tired of biting my tongue,” Charlie says.

         Nick’s eyes scan his face, “well isn’t tonight the perfect way to stop doing that?”

         This is what Charlie had been waiting for. What he’d been wanting Nick to help him with. He’d been wanting to know if Nick would push him towards the shadows, or if he’d pull him towards his own warm sun. It seems Nick has made his choice, even if it’s just for the moment. Even if he’ll likely change his mind latter, like he always seems to do. It’s enough of a choice to help Charlie with his own.

         “Maybe,” Charlie says, though he knows what he should do. He’s ninety-percent convinced. He turns his face away from Nick to look onward to where the microphone is being set up in far center of the room. He sees Mr. Johnson just to the side, students coming up to sign themselves onto his clipboard.

         “Here you go!” Amaya’s voice comes through, bringing back Charlie’s attention.

         She puts down four drinks, that all have a hue of orange and pink to them. Something like a sunset.

         “You made me one too?” Nick asks, amusement in his voice that brings back the pins of jealousy that had previously been pricking at Charlie’s skin. He had a momentary break from it, but the force of it is just as strong when it returns.

         “Yeah, yeah,” she waves him off like it’s no big deal, “what’re friends for?”

         Charlie looks down again, “but wait, who’s the fourth one for?”

         “Amy,” Amaya answers easily, “you can tell her it’s a peace offering.”

         Nick’s eyebrows raise so high, Charlie’s surprised to not find them lost behind his hairline, “look at you,” he tells her, like he’s impressed by her efforts.

         Charlie can’t think of anything he’d enjoy less, so he tries to interrupt it. Cut through their cloth of history that threads them together in ways he isn’t, and likely never will be, threaded with Nick.

         “What is it?” he asks, shifting the attention from Amaya to the drink.

         “It’s sort of like a tequila sunrise,” she answers, “but with vodka.”

         Charlie nods like he’s impressed and satisfied with her response, when she could have told him it was gasoline and he have reacted just the same. Only satisfied that her moment with Nick has ended.

         “Very interesting,” Charlie feigns, “thanks, Amaya. Consider the slate cleaned on my end. I’ll try and convince Amy of the same.”

         “Thanks, Charlie. Nice to meet you again – this time under better circumstances.”

         “You too.”

         He gives her a friendly smile and she gives him one back before her eyes slide right over to Nick. They share a look and a smile too, and Charlie can tell there’s something beneath it. He just doesn’t know what that something is. He doesn’t want to stick around to find out though, unsure he could take it if it meant there was some sort of rekindling of flames between the two of them.

         They’re friends – him and Nick – he knows this. His heart is just having a hard time catching up. Charlie’s never been too good at letting his heart understand logic.

         He looks away from them and grabs his phone to check his texts from Amy and Manny, letting him know where their table is. They’re sat somewhere to the right of the room, and according to Amy’s text, by a girl with purple hair. Charlie thinks that should be easy enough to find. He puts his phone away and picks up two drinks, not quite looking up to Nick yet in fear he’ll find him and Amaya making eyes at one another. But when he looks up, he’s surprised to find Amaya gone. He looks to his right to find her serving another customer, then whips his head around to catch Nick staring at him, two drinks in his own hands already.

         He half expects him to ask Charlie something about Amaya, but when he speaks, he just says, “lead the way?”

         Charlie nods, “yeah, follow me.”

         He walks in front of Nick, towards the general area of where Amy and Manny both let him know they’d be. He looks for the girl with the purple hair, thinking that’ll stand out enough in the sea of people he’s walking through. But he’s a bit distracted, Nick’s gaze behind piercing through his skin, aiming straight for his heart. He doesn’t look over his shoulder, instead focused on finding Amy and their friends. He eventually does spot them, but because he hears Darcy’s loud laugh from somewhere in the crowd.

         That’s when he allows himself to look over his shoulder at Nick, unsurprised to meet his eyes immediately, “over there.”

         Nick nods and lets Charlie lead the rest of the way until they’ve reached the table. Tara and Darcy give Charlie beaming smiles as they catch sight of him. Amy’s back stays turned to him, and Manny doesn’t look as pleased with his presence. Though Charlie’s not sure that’s because of Charlie himself and his actions at the bar, or the company he’s keeping.

         “Charlie boy!” Darcy yells out to him, her smile showcasing how excited she is to see him.

         Her face contorts to one of surprise once Charlie shifts a bit, revealing Nick to her line of sight. He hadn’t mentioned to anyone other than Amy that Nick was coming along, unsure if he’d even be coming himself until moments before they were meant to head out.

         “Nick,” she says, composing her face to one of less surprise, “you’re joining us in the tortured poet’s club?”

         “Hey,” Nick says nicely, “just as a bystander. Definitely not as a poet.”

         “No shame, my boy,” Darcy reassures him, “I’m also only a bystander. These two are the poets,” Darcy points her finger back and forth between Tara and Charlie.

         “Hardly me,” Tara says humbly, “but definitely Charlie. Nice to have you, Nick.”

         Nick smiles her way, “thanks, Tara. Nice to be here.”

         Then, before they take their seats, Nick hands Amy a drink. She feels the coolness of the drink hit her shoulder, and it’s the only reason she looks up over at him. Her eyebrows are furrowed as she does, clearly confused.

         “What’s this?” she asks, looking from the drink Nick is handing her to Nick.

         “A peace offering,” Nick tells her, the smile tattooed on his lips as he does.

         “From who?” Amy asks, her gaze flicking to Charlie.

         Charlie suddenly wishes he would’ve thought of it, knowing very well there’s peace to be made between them.

         “Amaya,” Charlie reveals though, pulling back the curtain on his own shitty behaviors.

         Amy looks completely taken aback and Nick laughs at the expression on her face. Just as he does, he takes a seat next to her. Charlie knows it’s the logical thing to do, given there are only two available seats, and one is next to Manny. Charlie knows it would be weird for him to forgo the seat next to Manny for the seat next to Amy, given that Manny very much can’t stand Nick for whatever reason, and it would make the whole thing unnecessarily awkward.

         Charlie takes his seat, handing Manny his drink with a weak smile. Manny barely returns it.

         “Amaya Rodriguez made this drink for me?” Amy asks, her question completely directed to Nick like if Charlie hadn’t been the one to inform her, “as a peace offering?”

         Nick nods, tongue in his cheek at Amy’s reaction.

         “Is she on drugs?”

         Nick laughs, hearty and true, “she’s going through a reform of sorts.”

         “What the,” Amy says bewildered, “are you fucking her again but this time good enough that she’s not just a snarky bitch all the time and found her heart?”

         Nick, who had been taking a sip of his own drink before Amy spoke so candidly, sputters. The only reason none of them get sprayed is because he catches himself right on time. Darcy cackles loudly. Manny even looks amused.

         Tara scols Amy, all motherly and embarrassed on her behalf, “Amy!”

         Charlie stays quiet.

         “Nick, don’t feel the need to answer that,” Tara assures Nick, then she gives Amy wild wide eyes that let her know she’s not condoning her behavior.

         Nick shakes his head, but he doesn’t meet anyone’s eyes as he says, “I’m not – we’re not sleeping together anymore. Just friends.”

         “Well, maybe then that’s what you should’ve been all along,” Amy quips.

         “I’m getting a little offended here,” Nick tells her playfully and Charlie thinks he’s had enough of that. He feels the emotions he’s been bottling up along with their accompanying words threatening to spill over. He’s very aware it isn’t the time or place.

         He gets up a bit abruptly, his chair scraping along the floor catching everyone’s attention. He feels all eyes on him, but it’s Nick’s gaze that sends sparks of electricity through his every nerve ending. It’s nothing new – he feels it every time, and yet, he always can’t help but feel it. He doesn’t meet his eyes though. He doesn’t mean anyone’s eyes.

         He just excuses himself.

         “Going to the loo,” he lies.

         He doesn’t give anyone time to decipher whether it’s a lie or not. Or anyone time to volunteer to accompany him. Charlie bolts a moment after he announces it, pretending he’s heading for the bathroom located at the far end of the room. Luckily for him, the sign-up sheet is in the same direction.

Charlie feels the pounding in his heart against his own ribcage as he jots his name down in the sign-up sheet Mr. Johnson hands over to him the moment he approaches. Even his inviting smile isn’t enough to stop the rapid beating of Charlie’s heart. He continuously glances over his own shoulder as he jots down his name, riddled with nerves that one of his friends will catch him. He knows it’ll just take one person to say one wrong thing and it’ll send his newfound determination crumbling. It’ll keep those emotions and those words bottled in, hidden away. He doesn’t intend to fully let them escape. To let them become fully visible. He just needs to release some of it. Air it out. Let it breathe. Maybe then Charlie can go back to being able to keep up with the lies he keeps telling himself when it comes to Nick.

It was easier before, when Nick was an idea. The more he gets to know him, the less it feels that way. The harder it becomes for Charlie to pretend it is that way.

He hopes this serves as remedy.

Charlie heads back to his seat at the table, adrenaline and something that feels so much like Nick coursing through his veins. Making his hands slightly shake. He tucks them in between his legs as he takes a seat again. It takes him a moment to catch up with the conversation, but he deciphers that Darcy is raving about that queer club they visited weeks ago, and everyone is listening in.

“’Truth’ is just the most wholesome gay bar I’ve ever been to,” Darcy explains to no one in particular, “and you know I’m not like, one for innocence or anything but it’s just got such a nice family vibe to it and it’s fucking fun. I can’t believe we’ve barely gone back.”

“Well, we are also about to enter the middle of the term,” Tara reminds her, a gentle hand on Darcy’s, “with exams coming up, some of us are focused on that instead of just partying.”

“Babe, you’re brilliant,” Darcy tells her, “Stop working so hard. This is also some of us’ last year here. We’ve got to live a little.”

“Darcy, all you do ‘is live a little’,” Tara narrows her eyes at her partner, “you and Amy skip lectures like three times a week to go get drunk!”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Amy says defensively, and then they’re all speaking over one another.

Charlie tunes most of it out, not really in the mindset for banter. With he and Amy in a weird place, and his mind feeling galaxies away, he remains quiet. He goes for a sip of his drink. Then he feels Nick lean over, his scent of citrus and something else taking over his senses.

He turns his head slightly, to see Nick’s body mainly angled towards him.

“Everything good?” Nick practically whispers, the question obviously only for Charlie’s ears, “you just left a bit… I don’t know. It felt out of the blue.”

Charlie can’t say what he wants to. Not just yet.

“I just really had to use the bathroom,” he lies again, his volume matching Nick’s. It feels like they’re cocooning themselves into a moment that is only and just theirs.

“Alright,” Nick gives him a small, lop-sided smile, and it feels like dynamite to Charlie’s insides, “all good, then?”

“Yeah,” Charlie smiles back, “and you? Finding this okay? My friends are a little chaotic. As you’ve probably already been able to tell.”

Nick’s smile widens, “I like your friends.”

“They like you too.”

Static. Chemicals. Electricity. All of it buzzes between them in the small moment they’ve carved out for themselves.

And then it’s gone. Blown out by someone else. By Manny.

“What about you, Nelson?” Manny’s voice booms through, ripping right through whatever cocoon Charlie and Nick had been sheltering themselves with, “have you ever been to a gay club?”

Charlie whips his head around quickly to glare at Manny. He hopes Manny will catch his eye, will see just how disapproving Charlie is by his question. It feels calculated. Targeted. Like he’s trying to extract information from Nick that he’s fully aware Nick isn’t comfortable giving. Like that’s his goal – to make Nick feel uncomfortable and like an outsider in their group. Manny was there the night it happened – the night Nick stormed out of the same bar they’re all sat in when Cristian drunkenly and stupidly said something he shouldn’t have let slip so easily.

He and Charlie never talked about it after. It had been in the earlier days of them hooking up. Manny hadn’t tried to stop Charlie when he’d gone after Nick, and the next time they saw each other, Charlie made it a point not to bring it up. Manny didn’t bring it up either. He’d made a comment, something about the night ending so awkwardly, but that’d been all. They’d never touched upon it again.

But Charlie can see what Manny is doing and he has to physically stop himself from kicking Manny under the table.

Charlie is about to say something, anything, to get the target off of Nick’s back when Amy beats him to it.

“What does that matter to you, Manny?” she asks, her voice giving away her own irritation at the question, “are you looking for suggestions or something? Because with the amount of time you spend in them, I don’t think you need any.”

If Charlie wasn’t so annoyed with himself for not speaking up quicker, he would appreciate Amy’s call to defense more. It’s clear Manny doesn’t appreciate it at all.

Manny gives Amy a face, “cute, Amy. But I don’t believe I was asking you.”

“I don’t believe I give a shit.”

Charlie can feel the tensions rising. He’s about to try and calm the water, but once again, he’s beaten to the punch. This time, by Nick.

“I have,” Nick blurts out, quickly drawing the attention back on him. When Charlie looks at him, he could sense the fear in his eyes, but the determination in the set of his jaw. He doesn’t look at Charlie. Instead, he looks past him, right to Manny.

“Once though, so if suggestions are what you’re looking for, I don’t think I could be of much help.”

“Was just trying to make you feel included in the conversation, mate.”

“Good looking out then, mate.”

“No problem,” Manny says, “mate.”

Charlie wants to call ‘time-out!’  But life doesn’t have those, though there are many moments in Charlie’s life he wishes the option could’ve been available to him.

“Which one have you been to, Nick?” Tara asks sweetly. She’s smiling, bubbly and bright like she always does. Unlike Manny’s question, there’s no accusation behind her words. It’s the opposite. Charlie can tell she’s trying to make Nick comfortable, feel like he can openly express himself without being judged or ridiculed for it. And Charlie just feels horribly inadequate. He’s Nick’s closest friend at the table, and yet everyone but him has tried to make the situation better for Nick.

What a useless rat you are, the mean voice in his head says. He quiets it down by taking gulps of his drink as he waits for Nick to answer.

“I honestly don’t remember the name,” Nick says, and Charlie can feel his tense body next to him. He’s trying. Charlie can tell he’s trying. But even with Tara’s kindness, it’s hard for Nick to openly speak about his queer experiences.

Charlie knows there’s probably two reasons for that. The first is that he’s still not fully comfortable with people understanding that he is queer. And the other is likely because all of his queer experiences are likely tied to one person – the very same person whose memory clearly brings Nick pain.

In Charlie’s understanding, he puts away any of his personal feelings and he does the only thing he can think of to do to help. The only thing he’s ever felt has easily helped before.

He carefully places a gentle hand on Nick’s thigh. It’s barely above the knee, and Charlie hopes it doesn’t make Nick feel preyed or hit on and just acts as the comfort blanket Nick’s touch always brings him. He rubs circles with his thumb, though he doesn’t dare look over at Nick as he does it.

Nick’s muscles seem to relax underneath Charlie’s touch.

“We should take you to ‘Truth,’” Darcy declares, a genuine smile on her face.

“It really is so fun and so wholesome,” Tara adds, her sweet smile directed right at Nick, “it’s just an atmosphere that makes everyone feel so welcomed. I think you’d like it.”

Charlie stops letting his friends do the work for him and speaks for the first time since he’s wanted to, his hand still gently holding onto Nick’s thigh, “don’t feel pressured though. It is a great place, but you should only go if you want to. And it’s really okay if you don’t.”

He lets himself look at Nick then, and when he does, he sees the turmoil in Nick settling. He doesn’t know whether it’s his own touch, his words, or everyone’s kindness that has kept Nick from spiraling, but it’s clear to Charlie that they’re doing something right. Because Nick looks at Charlie with less fearful eyes, and more hopeful ones. Hope that even if he isn’t hidden away, he won’t combust under the exposure of his true self.

Charlie squeezes his thigh lightly. Just a reminder that he’s there for him.

Nick gives him that same lop-sided smile that Charlie has come to know as one of his favorite Nick Nelson smiles, “sounds like it could be fun.”

And Charlie knows what he’s saying. He knows the implication of such simple words. He knows it’s Nick’s way of trying. Of doing what he and Charlie spoke about all those weeks ago at the hole in the wall bar. He’s doing his best to do his best, and Charlie feels all the air in his lungs escape him. Replaced by everything Nick Nelson.

“Fuck yeah!” Darcy says excitedly.

“We will have the best time,” Tara joins in, “we need to plan it.”

“I’m always down for that,” Amy says, “so is Manny.”

“Oh fuck off, Amy,” Manny sneers.

Throughout all the noise around them, Nick and Charlie stayed locked in on one another. The magnets in their chests pulsate with something Charlie doesn’t understand yet. As soon as he starts leaning into the feeling, Mr. Johnson’s voice blares through the bar’s speakers.

         Nick looks away first and Charlie does right after, not wanting to appear like a creep for staring at Nick. Though he could never tire of it.

         “Good evening, everyone,” Mr. Johnson speaks into the microphone, the same one Charlie is going to speak into at some point in the night, “thanks for joining us again for slam poetry night. I’d like to call up the first student to perform,” Mr. Johnson looks down at his clipboard, “Please welcome Sarah Blake.”

         Someone in one of the tables closer to the microphone stand gets up from her chair. Her friend's snap for her and then so does everyone at their own table.

         Reluctantly, Charlie removes his hand from Nick’s thigh and uses both his hands to snap. He could feel Nick shift when he does it, and Charlie’s not sure if it means he misses the touch the moment it’s gone or he’s happy that it is. But with the way he feels Nick scoot his chair in and subtly, a bit closer to him, he thinks it’s the former.

         He’s not sure friends are meant to enjoy each other’s touch that much. No matter how platonic it might be.

         “I really don’t get the snapping thing,” Nick whispers to him.

         “Just got with it,” Charlie whispers back.

         They listen to many other performers. Like every other slam poetry night Charlie has been to, some are great, and some are painful to sit through. In between performers, Tara and Darcy work out the details of their outings to ‘Truth’ that they want to do in a couple of weeks. Nick gives very little input but seems like a willing participant. Charlie’s not sure if it’ll actually happen. If Nick won’t get cold feet the nearer and more real the plans become. But he enjoys watching Nick open himself up to the idea, especially to people he hardly knows.

 Manny’s presence next to Charlie is hard to ignore as well. He mainly stays quiet, and Charlie mainly ignores him, but the tension between them is thick and undeniable.

Nick and Amy head to the bar a couple of times, bringing back drinks for the table. Charlie tries not to feel sour over it, though the taste in his mouth is unmistakable.

         During one of the times Nick and Amy head back to the bar, Manny leans into speak right into Charlie’s ear. Charlie flinches at the closeness and the sound.

         “Do you think we could step out a moment to speak?” he asks.

         Charlie creates space between them, giving Manny an incredulous look, “about what?”

         Manny looks pained as he replies, “Charlie, I know you’re upset with me.”

         “Do you not think I have a right to be? You know what you were trying to do as well as I do.”

         Manny sighs, “I was being passive aggressive, yes. But I have my reasons.”

         “What’re those reasons, Manny?” Charlie challenges him, his patience for Manny’s behavior and his excuses for such behavior wearing thin.

         “Charlie,” Manny pleads.

         And maybe if Charlie felt for Manny what Manny wanted him to feel, he wouldn’t say what he says next. But because he doesn’t feel that, because he knows he can’t bring himself to for many reasons, all of them engulfed in a flame with someone else’s name, he says exactly what his mind and his heart are thinking. In a very rare occurrence that they are in agreement.

         “There’s no rational excuse for your behavior because you and I are just friends. Who yes, occasionally sleep together but we are not more than that, Manny. And I’ve told you before I have no interest in being more than that,” Charlie says, “I’m sorry if that hurts you but it’s just how I feel. And because it’s obvious you feel differently, and it’s causing you to act a bit like a prick with people who don’t deserve it, maybe we should just stick to being friends without those kinds of benefits.”

         Charlie knows he’s been candid enough that it’s bordering on cruel, just as much as he knows that isn’t him. It’s never been him to intentionally hurt anyone’s feelings. And he isn’t necessarily trying to do that to Manny, but he’s not sparing them either. Charlie’s just fed up. He’s fed up with Manny’s attitude. He’s fed up with his rudeness towards Nick and his inability to give up on his ideas of Charlie.

         Manny’s eyes harden at Charlie’s words, “he’s not who you think he is.”

         “You don’t even know him,” Charlie defends, fighting to keep his voice low so the others don’t hear, “and this isn’t about him anyway. It’s about your attitude.”

         “Do you think you do? And don’t bullshit me, Charlie. This has everything to do with him.”

         “I know him better than you do. And no, it doesn’t.”

         Yes, it does.

         “Charlie,” Manny practically begs, his voice going from angry to soft in seconds, “just – can we talk outside in private, please?”

         “Manny, it’s done,” Charlie tells him, knowing it’s over no matter what Manny continues to plea with or for, “I’m sorry. I thought we were both on the same page. Doing this for fun, but – I don’t think we are anymore, and I don’t want to hurt you more than I already am. Or have,” he braves himself for what he says next, “I can’t give you what you want.”

         Manny’s facial expression turns rock hard again, and Charlie can tell his final words were a nail to the coffin he’d already created for them. He thinks maybe he should’ve stepped outside to do this, but he can’t bring himself to do it. He can’t bring himself to give Manny the space to beg or make a case for himself. He wants a clean kill, and this is the cleanest he thinks it’ll be.

         “Neither can he,” Manny’s voice is low and forbidding as he speaks, “he will never give you what you want from him.”

         The words have sharp edges to them, and they pierce new holes in Charlie’s heart, leaving him unable to form any words of his own. It doesn’t seem like Manny has any interest in hearing them even if Charlie was capable of speaking them, because in that moment he forcefully stands. The scraping of his chair is loud and as menacing as the words he just spoke.

         Charlie stays stuck, trying to patch up the holes Manny’s just left behind for him. But the truth doesn’t allow Charlie to easily do that.

         Charlie looks up at Manny, who looks ahead of him. Charlie doesn’t need to turn around to know who he’s looking at.

         “You good, mate?” he hears Nick as behind him.

         “Peachy, Nelson,” Manny answers sarcastically.

         “Charlie?”

         Charlie still can’t speak. He feels the blood gushing over the holes. His inability to stop it.

         He thinks maybe he should step outside. He should get a breath of fresh air to clear his mind. To help fix his heart that feels utterly irreparable. But then – the universe steps in.

         “Please welcome out next performer, Charlie Spring,” Mr. Johnson calls, “Charlie Spring to the mic, please.”

         “Charlie!” he hears Tara yell in excitement.

         Charlie does turn then, looking up at Nick who is still looming over him. He has two drinks in his hand, and a puzzled expression on his face as he looks ahead to Manny who’s still standing in front of Charlie. Charlie waits, for that gravitational pull to bring him down to Charlie. It does.

         And when he looks down at Charlie, his expression softens instantly. And Charlie sees the glimpse of it, the glimpse of all those suppressed desires coming through.

         “You’re performing,” he says. Like he can’t believe it. Like it’s everything he’s ever wanted.

         “Should I?” Charlie gets himself to ask.

         “Of course,” Nick answers with ease.

         Charlie uses every bit of sun Nick has just given him to counteract all the venom Manny has. He stands but doesn’t look directly at Nick. He doesn’t look at anyone. He hears the snaps around him as he walks up to the stage, but he keeps his head down. The beat of his heart thuds loudly inside his chest, and it’s a rhythm he’s come to know well.

         It beats – Nick, Nick, Nick.

         Maybe Manny is right. Maybe Charlie is a fool. But it won’t stop the beating of his heart. That much he’s sure of.

         And Charlie knows, that even if friend's is all they can ever be, it’s better than being nothing at all. He just needs to let some of the blood out. Some of those feelings that’ve been building inside him out so he can be okay again. So, he can accept his reality, and put rest to some of his mindless dreaming.

         Mr. Johnson steps aside as Charlie steps up. The spotlight obscures his view from most of the crowd, and he’s thankful for it. He wants to pretend in that moment that he’s only giving the words he’s about to release to the world to just one person. Just one person that’ll understand and not all other listeners that’ll wonder who he’s carved into all of his poems as of late.

         “Hi everyone,” he speaks into the mic, the echo loud as it bounces off the walls, “my name is Charlie Spring, and this is a little something I wrote.”

         He reaches for the folded piece of paper in his back pocket, and with shaky hands unfolds it to reveal the words he’s sure he knows by heart anyway.

         He takes a deep breath before he starts.

         ‘Is it the way he speaks?

         Or is it the way he breathes?

         Just how is it that my soul recognizes him with such ease?

         I fight my own heart,

         My logic screaming at me to not let myself come apart.

         Do old habits just really take their time to die that hard?

         I can feel myself starving for his touch,

         I don’t think even I realize just how much,

         I just know It’s getting harder to ignore that he has me in his clutch.

         He holds me in the palm of his hands,

         I fall into him like he’s quicksand.

         And it all just makes it so much harder to understand.

         That if our souls are truly connected,

         Why must this burning feeling remain neglected?’

         As Charlie speaks his final words into the microphone, he is met with an array of praise. His friends have ignored the proper etiquette for slam poetry night and clap loudly for him. The rest of the rooms respects the unspoken rules of slam poetry night and snap for him, but they do it with enough rigor that he knows they’ve enjoyed his words. But all of it is drowned out the moment Charlie lifts his eyes from his paper, and they find the person he knew they would. That he knew would be staring right back at him like so. Just like the first time they ever met eyes, in this very same fashion.

         Except the first time they ever met eyes they were strangers. The invisible string that tied them together then has only grown tighter since, now that their eyes know each other as more than strangers. Their eyes know each other as well as their hearts do, and the confinement of friends seems as futile as the words Charlie’s just spoken. Because he knows, even before he starts to make his way back to his table, that they won’t talk about it. That they’ll keep pretending like neither of them are aware of the truth. That Charlie’s words are not just random artifacts of his mind but the very words his wishes he could speak to Nick as openly as he feels he can speak to him about everything else.

         Wishes don’t always come true.

         Charlie breaks the eye contact first. He bows his head, and steps away from the spotlight. He walks back to his table of friends with his head still bowed. He only lifts it when people he walks by pay him compliments and he politely thanks them. When he finally gets to his table, all his friends are at their feet waiting for him. Except for Manny, who Charlie notices is gone. When he left, Charlie’s not sure. He’s not sure it matters either.

         Nick is there. Standing back a bit, but when he and Charlie meet eyes again, it feels like Nick is holding his breath. Charlie can relate.

         “Charlie!” Darcy yells, putting an arm right around his shoulder, “I knew you were a talented writer but you’re definitely giving Tara a run for her money now!”

         “Darcy,” Tara says exasperatedly, “don’t be so rude to me! But she’s right Charlie – that was amazing.”

         Charlie smiles, though his heart feels lodged in his throat and his rib cage aches with a feeling he can’t really describe. He wants to hear what Nick has to say, but he looks at Amy first whose presence is just as hard to ignore.

         She’s standing in between Nick and Charlie, her arms crossed a bit over her chest. It’s a direct symbol of her still being cross with him for the assumptions he made earlier.

         “You didn’t need a push this time,” Amy tells him.

         It takes everything in Charlie not to let his eyes gaze behind her to Nick, “I guess not.”

         She looks at him like she knows exactly why he didn’t, but if she truly does, she keeps it to herself. She nods.

         “Good job, Charlie,” she says, “those words were truly beautiful.”

         “They really were!” Tara exclaims, and then she’s moving in to hug Charlie. He gets crushed in between Tara and Darcy’s embrace. He doesn’t really mind it. It’s less painful than the crushing sensation he might feel when Nick brushes his words under the rug. Just as he has every look. Every touch.

         When they let go, Darcy says, “I must know though, who is the muse? There’s absolutely no way I’m going to believe you pulled those words from thin air.”       

         Charlie’s heart nearly drops out of his body.

         “Oh my god,” Tara interjects before Charlie is left floundering like a fish, searching for an explanation that won’t give away the truth, “ignore her. Darcy has no idea how to mind her own business,” she turns to Darcy, “A writer’s subject matter is meant to be subjective and anonymous, babe.”

         “Is it?” Darcy asks, “because I know everything you’ve ever written about me.”

         “Do you now?” Tara asks.

         And then they’re engaging in something lovely and coupley that involves a lot of teasing and lets Charlie off the hook.

         “I’ll go get you a drink,” Amy tells Charlie, and though she’s doing a kind gesture, there’s not much kindness behind her eyes when looks at him, “you know, for doing that on your own. Took guts.”

         Charlie doesn’t have the right words. He knows he needs to make things right between him and Amy, while still maintaining that she needs to respect his boundaries as much as he knows it isn’t the time to do that. He just nods and gives her a small smile that she doesn’t return.

         Amy moves past him, and then there’s nothing and no one standing between him and Nick.

         They lock eyes and Charlie can see it behind Nick’s as much as he can feel it in the space between them – the same war of tug-of-war Nick has been playing with him since the start.

         Charlie takes a step forward, even if he’s not sure if Nick is going to push or pull this time.

         “So,” he says, trying to keep his voice casual, “what did you think?”

         He’s scared of what Nick might say. But he’s more scared of never finding out.

         Nick gives him a small smile and lets out a breath that he was likely holding for too long, “I thought you were brilliant. But then again, you always are.”

         Charlie feels the words stain his soul.

         “Not really,” Charlie replies, “but thank you.”

         They stare at each other, neither of them speaking. And Charlie can sense it. Not the battle between them but the battle Nick carries inside himself. His own war that is likely far more complicated than Charlie can comprehend, and he wants to reach a hand out and tell Nick it’s okay to meet him in the middle. That it’s okay that they don’t give into anything else, that maybe that’s for the best. But that it’s also okay to air it out a bit. With a sentence. Or a phrase. Or a poem like Charlie just did.

         Although Charlie doesn’t feel lighter like he hoped he would once he gave way to some of his feelings. Instead, standing in front of Nick, waiting for him to say anything, he feels heavier than before. So heavy that he’s sinking into the ocean floor.

         Nick opens his mouth, taking a shaky breath in before he says, “Charlie, I—”

         “We need to take a seat guys,” Tara says behind them, “next performer is up, and we don’t want to be rude.”

         “When are you going up?” Darcy asks Tara, “because honestly if it weren’t for that, I’d be done with this. How will anyone, beside you, top what Charlie just performed?”

         Tara rolls her eyes affectionately at her partner, “I’m probably a few people after. Take a seat, Darce. And you two too.”

         Tara and Darcy take their seats first. Reluctantly, Nick and Charlie do too. The next performer goes on, and silence is forced amongst them.

         Nick doesn’t look at Charlie, though Charlie can’t help but steal glances at him. He can’t help but flex his own hand in his lap. His fingers desperate to reach out for Nick. He’d take the same miniscule touch they had at Harry’s party. Just pinkies looped together. A small sign that there’s an energy between them that cannot be destroyed.

         But all Charlie gets is Nick keeping a reasonable distance between their chairs for the rest of the night. He doesn’t make direct conversation with Charlie about anything, but especially not about Charlie’s words. He engages with conversation with the entire group and even then, his words are limited. He seems retreated inside himself in a way, and Charlie wonders whether he made the right decision. For either of them. Because relief is the furthest thing Charlie feels even if it’s the only thing he’d been chasing.

         By the time the night ends, there are many promises of an upcoming night out to ‘Truth’ with all of them and many praises for Charlie’s poem. Charlie’s grateful no one mentions Manny’s untimely exit, though he’s sure they all suspect Manny and him aren’t in good standing. Despite all that, all Charlie is left with and is only able to focus on wondering what Nick might be feeling. It’s like there’s an impenetrable wall between them that stops him every time he gets close. He’s felt it before. Bumped into it many times in the past. But lately it’s felt like it’s come down. Like it’s barely there. Tonight, it feels like it’s back.

 The walk back to their flats is quiet. Amy doesn’t say much, and Charlie can feel how tense things still are between them the whole way there. Nick is also quiet. And Charlie is left reeling in his own mind. Nick drops off Amy and Charlie first at their door, and Charlie waits to see how he’ll say good night. He says it like it’s just any other word. He doesn’t hug Charlie, or Amy, and he doesn’t offer more than a simple good night either. Charlie is left to watch as Nick disappears from view, walking towards his own flat a couple of doors down and going inside without a look back. Amy and Charlie have a similarly bland good night with one another once they’re inside too.

Charlie is too exhausted by the time his head hits his pillow to dwell on it. But he feels restless that night, tossing and turning with one relentless question on his mind.

What have I done?

         Charlie stares back at himself in his full-length mirror.

         He gives himself a once over, feeling only slightly self-conscious about how his top is a little more cropped than the usual tops he wears. It’s hardly a crop-top, but the fabric does end before the waistline of his own jeans, revealing bits of flesh that Charlie would’ve never allowed himself to show off even just two years ago. He’s come a long way since then, struggling so much less with his self-image and sense of self-worth. He’s grown into himself. Built his confidence from the literal ground up.

         And yet, Charlie stares back at himself feeling like a rubber band stretched to its full capacity. For the last two weeks, he’s felt so tightly wound up, he’s just waiting for the moment that brings him to snap. The moment that’ll make whoever is stretching him out so much to let go. To unwind him with a forceful and stinging slap.

         After slam poetry night, Charlie hadn’t known what to expect from Nick. He thought maybe he’d never hear from him again. Or worse, that Nick would tell Charlie that he didn’t feel even remotely what he suspected Charlie felt for him by his poem, and that was the reason he needed to stop being Charlie’s friend. The last thing Charlie had seen happening was Nick texting him the next morning like the previous night never happened. Like if Charlie’s words had never been spoken. Like he’d never heard them. And to continue on that way, for the next week and a half. Even during study sessions, Charlie has searched for signs of change in Nick. Even the bad kind of change he fears. Like the kind he was sure would happen after that night, given how Nick had initially reacted. But – nothing has changed. Nick continues to be the same. To push and pull and do it so eloquently it barely registers in Charlie’s head. And maybe that should bring him comfort. Perhaps he should be thankful. Thankful that he didn’t mess anything up by being bold and brash without being fully direct. But instead, Charlie is still holding out for that feeling of relief. It never comes. And the frustration builds like waves. Stretching him out further and further and Charlie knows, can feel it – he’s on the edge of breaking.

         They actually ended up planning their night out to ‘Truth’ – something Charlie was sure would stay as an idea and not actually manifest into actual plans. But Tara and Darcy were persistent, and eventually, they all made their schedules work. So, tonight, Daisy, Jess, Amy, Tara, Darcy, Charlie, Nick, Cristian, Sai, Otis and himself are all meant to go out to ‘Truth’ together. They’ve framed it as something fun and lighthearted and not anything related to Nick’s sexuality which Charlie understands Nick’s gratefulness towards. Charlie wants to feel excited but instead he just feels flat.

         In the last week and a half, Amy and him still haven’t hashed out it. He’s not sure his poem helped on that front either. Unlike the rest of his friends who let the subject of Charlie’s words go the moment the night was over, unable to connect the dots that would lead them back to Nick Nelson, Charlie could tell that Amy figured it out right away. Somehow that’s only made their rut harder to get through. And Nick is acting like nothing’s happened either. And everything is moving on, but Charlie feels stuck in time. Stuck to that moment a week and a half back where he made a confession of sorts, and it didn’t matter. Not one bit.

         He sighs, heavily. Trying to release that tension in his shoulders. Trying to unwind the frustration in his muscles. It doesn’t work of course, but he feels better for at least attempting it.

         He walks out of his room and towards the common room area. There he finds all the girls gathered around, seltzers in all their hands as they speak about something Charlie can’t make out. They’re all dressed in glittery and loud colors, showing off their vibrant sexualities and personalities.

         Tara spots him first.

         “Charlie!” she shouts for him, “done getting ready?”

         Charlie’s been ready for a solid half hour. He was just gathering the courage to face this without bending so far back he’d break in two. He doesn’t tell her that.

         “Yeah,” he gives her his best fake smile, years’ worth of training has made him an expert at it, “was just not sure about the shirt so kept changing it.”

         “The shirt is everything,” Daisy says, “love that it’s like kind of cropped, but kind of not? Subtly looks good on you, Charlie.”

         She gives him a wink and a friendly smile, and Charlie tries his best to match her chipper energy. He’s not sure he succeeds.

         “Want something to drink?” Amy asks from behind the kitchen counter where she’s standing.

         Charlie looks at her over his shoulder, “sure. Thanks.”

         “Sure,” she responds, not meeting his eye as she turns to the fridge to grab something for him.

         Charlie’s not a fan of where their friendship currently stands, but he’s also not sure how to fix it. He doesn’t think he’ll get the opportunity tonight anyway.

         Just as Amy slides a can of seltzer towards Charlie, there’s a knock on their door.

         “Oh, that should be the boys!” Daisy excitedly announces.

         “You can open for them,” Jess tells her.

         Daisy doesn’t waste the opportunity and Charlie’s heart doesn’t miss the cue. It starts beating rapidly, to the rhythm that is only reserved for one Nick Nelson. Charlie grabs the seltzer, taking a giant gulp from it. He allows himself only for a moment to believe that it could drown out the feelings that culminate inside him any time he’s anywhere near Nick. As if anything could. When he sets the drink down, at the same time Daisy opens the door, he catches Amy’s eye. She keeps her expression as neutral as she usually keeps it, but one arch of her eyebrow confirms what Charlie already knows. She can read through him. He looks away quickly, redirecting his attention to his new guests.

         Cristian comes through the door first, hugging Daisy like he hasn’t seen her in years and just returned from war. He lifts her from the ground and twirls her in his arms, and the whole thing is disgustingly adorable. If Charlie wasn’t so envious of them, his smile at the sight of it might actually be genuine. Sai and Otis are right behind him, carrying a bottle of tequila over their heads.

Charlie knows that leaves Nick as the last person to walk through the door. He feels the anticipation pumping through his veins, making him feel unsteady on his feet. He stopped reacting so fiercely to Nick’s presence once he became more acclimated to it, but after slam poetry night, he feels the way he used to feel when he’d see him. Before he actually knew him. Like his ribs know he’s coming, and his heart waits for him to.

Charlie’s heart nearly stops beating at the sight of the person that actually comes through the door next. Another unexpected turn of events, and his heart feels the treason his mind instantly marks it as. Because walking through the door isn’t Nick, it’s Amaya. Amaya, who is dressed in a lilac mini skirt showing off her modelesque long legs, and black corset top pushing her perfect cleavage upwards to look even more perfect. Her tan skin is sparkling with small specks of glitter, and her piercing green eyes are even more noticeable with the dark winged liner around them. The top half of her hair is pulled back, the rest is down in waves with pieces framing her already perfectly chiseled face. Her black go-go boots go up to her knees, giving her the perfect look between innocence and sexiness and Charlie’s face heats. If he thought himself envious of Daisy and Cristian’s relationship, it is nothing compared to how he feels for Amaya’s looks. And the way that he can’t deny that any man interested in women would undeniably be interested in her. How could they not? If Charlie was even five percent interested in women, Amaya would occupy the entirety of that interest on looks alone.

Charlie’s not-so-cropped crop top suddenly feels mediocre and completely inadequate in comparison.

The room feels as fixated on Amaya as Charlie is. So much so, he almost misses Nick who walks in right behind her. But he doesn’t, because his heart would never allow him to. That invisible string that ties them to one another would never let Charlie miss him.

If Amaya is a goddess, Nick is a God. And it makes so much sense why they used to sleep together so often. They’re equally as attractive as one another, complimenting each other perfectly as far as physicality goes. If anyone attracted to women can’t help but be attracted to Amaya, the same could be said about Nick when it comes to men. He looks like something straight out of a magazine with his all-white ribbed tank top, with nothing but a stitched anchor at the center, and his high wasted denim jeans giving way to his waist. His hair is done as it usually is, making Charlie continue to wonder what it would feel like to run his fingers through it.

Amaya knows what that feels like, the cruel voice inside Charlie’s head reminds him. Contaminating the very thought.

And then, because Charlie’s heart is already on the verge of cracking in places where old breaks used to be, the voice says, he brought her for a reason. Even after your pathetic confession, he’s brought her. Take a hint, Charlie. Get the message.

Charlie looks away from them immediately and grabs the seltzer to down as much of it as he can in a single gulp. It’s not very much, and he almost chokes on his attempt. He coughs into his fist, trying to be subtle about it. But Amy’s standing right in front of him, and she has an expression on her face he’s seen before. Something like determination. Determination for what is the only thing Charlie is unsure of.

She moves around the counter as everyone gets to their feet to say hi to the boys. And Amaya. Charlie hangs back, feeling himself unable to do more than watch. The rubber band stretches a bit more, and he feels like it’s on the final stretch. Anything else, and Charlie will sure snap.

“Amaya,” Amy says, coming up to her with her chin lifted slightly, “to what do we owe the pleasure of being in your company tonight? I wasn’t aware we would be.”

Amaya looks at Amy like she’s ready to come back with a snarky reply. And for a moment, Charlie thinks she will, and the night will be ruined before it even starts. Which wouldn’t be the worst thing. But then he sees her features soften, her mind reeling her natural instincts back.

“It was last minute invite,” Amaya tells her, “And because I want to expand my social circle, Nick was kind enough to include me.”

“Expand your social circle?” Amy asks, a hint of bewilderment in her tone, “when have you ever had trouble with that?”

Amaya sighs, like she’s exhausted by Amy’s questioning, “Amy, how about instead of interrogating me you offer me a drink? ‘least you could do seeing as I saved you a good amount of quid the other night.”

“I thought that was meant to be a peace offering,” Amy narrows her eyes.

“It was. And this could be too,” Nick interrupts, stepping into the conversation for the first time although it isn’t lost on Charlie that he’s been by Amaya’s side for the entirety of it.

“Your turn,” Amaya smiles at Amy, and there’s something wicked in it that is just as attractive as the rest of her.

Amy doesn’t immediately give in. She lets the offer suspend in the air for a moment -- in true Amy fashion, she doesn’t make to move until she decides on her own to. And then, with another sigh she turns. She indicates for them to follow her with her hand over her shoulder. Charlie, too focused on the look exchanged by Amaya and Nick the moment Amy turns her back, doesn’t immediately realize that they’re walking right towards the kitchen. Right towards where he’s still standing.

He thinks of making his escape before they reach him. But it’s too late. Their flat is not nearly big enough to provide enough time between them walking towards him and him leaving the area to not make it noticeable that he’s fleeting because of them.

Amaya catches his eyes first, and smiles wide at him, “Charlie, right? Nice to see you again!”

Charlie wonders how much of that she actually means.

He smiles back, knowing he barely means to, “Hi,” he says, “yes. Nice to see you again too, Amaya.”

“Amaya, come pick out your flavor,” Amy says from where she stands with the fridge door open, “last thing I need is for you to complain about which flavor I pick out for you.”

Amaya chuckles underneath her breath, rolling her eyes at Amy’s obvious sarcasm. She excuses herself from Charlie to go around the kitchen island to where Amy is. When she does that, she removes herself from in between him and Nick, who’d been standing right behind her. Charlie thinks there might be some sort of symbolism to that, but he can’t bring himself to care.

Nick comes into view, and the rest of Charlie’s vision blurs. The only thing in focus, is Nick Nelson standing two feet in front of him.

“Hi,” Nick says, a lop-sided smile on his face.

“Hi,” Charlie swallows, “all good?”

He sees the swift expression of confoundment cross Nick’s face at Charlie’s words. But he recovers quickly, his expression returning to one of less strain.

“Uh, yeah,” he gives off a breathy laugh, his hand coming up to hold the back of his neck momentarily before he brings it back down to his side, “and you?”

“Yeah,” Charlie lies, and takes another gulp of his seltzer that is practically done, “yup.”

Nick takes a step closer, and then his eyes roam Charlie’s body, clearly taking in his outfit. Charlie has never wanted to be invisible more in his life.

“I like your shirt,” Nick compliments him.

“I rather hate it,” Charlie says, a bit harshly.

Nick’s smile falters slightly, “I think it looks great on you, but you might still have time to change if you feel that way?”

Charlie dismisses him, “nah. It’s okay,” and then, because Charlie can feel it eating away at his soul, he adds, “why didn’t you mention you were going to invite Amaya? Not that it matters or anything, but I just think you caught everyone off guard.”

He hopes it sounds convincing. He hopes Nick can’t hear how much it actually does matter. To Charlie more than anyone.

“It really was a very last-minute invite,” Nick explains, “Amaya’s been trying to – I don’t know, find herself, I guess? I can relate and just want to be a good friend.”

“Kind of you,” Charlie can taste the own venom on his tongue.

Nick takes a good look at Charlie, and the intensity of his gaze is too much for Charlie to bare. So, he looks away, drinking the last bit of seltzer he has left.

“It was a bit selfish too,” Nick says, and Charlie can’t help the way his head turns to look at Nick, the words slicing through him at their insinuation, “she’s one of the only other people I’ve openly told my sexuality to.”

It’s not what Charlie was expecting him to say. He was fully expecting Nick to say that he’d given the invitation as a way to get them closer. To get them back to where they’d been. But what Nick reveals stings just the same. And Charlie knows it’s wrong, and horrible, and egocentric that he feels that way. He should be happy Nick has gotten to the point where he can speak his sexuality out loud to other people besides himself and Charlie. But all he feels is like he’s lost a piece of Nick reserved for him to the person that has so many pieces of Nick Charlie will never have.

“You told her?” Charlie asks.

Nick nods, “I did. The night of Harry’s party when I dropped her off at home. We had a heart to heart and – it just felt right to tell her the truth.”

Charlie wants to smile. He wants to tell Nick he’s proud of him. He wants to do what he knows is right, but Charlie can’t. The rubber band is stretched too far. And Charlie can’t stretch it out further. The tautness of it is too threatening already.

So, Charlie says, “I need another drink.”

He doesn’t allow Nick a moment to respond. Instead, he just steps away and goes straight for the fridge where Amaya and Amy no longer stand. He opens it with more force than he knows is necessary and grabs the first seltzer he can find. He opens the can at lightning speed and chugs at it just as quickly. As if he’ll find all the answers and all the resolutions to all his indispositions in the liquid.

He jumps when he feels a hand on his elbow. Every cell in his body recognizes who’s touch it is.

“Char,” Nick says, his voice as gentle as his touch, “is everything okay?”

No. Everything is not okay. Can’t you see how my hearts beats for you and only you? And if you can’t, why can’t you? Is that you can’t, or that you won’t?

“Yeah,” Charlie lies again, something that is far too easy for him to do, “why do you ask?”

Nick removes his hand from Charlie’s elbow slowly, and Charlie misses the feel of it the moment it’s gone.

“I don’t know,” Nick says lowly, careful to not let anyone else hear, “it just – something feels off between us. It could just be my own mind playing tricks on me, but. I just had to ask.”

He looks timid and unsure standing in front of Charlie. Charlie wants the words to come out. He wants the words clawing at his throat to make their escape like they so desperately seem to want to. But just like so many other moments in Charlie’s life when words should have been spoken to keep a moment from happening or to make a moment happen, they remain unspoken.

He stays quiet, unsure of what to say. He thinks he’s running out of lies.

“If there’s anything bothering you, please let me know. I – I need you tonight, Char. This is a big thing for me, and I can’t,” he takes in a shaky breath and releases is just as quickly, “I can’t do it without you,” Nick admits, his voice gravely as he speaks.

The vulnerability in his words and his stare are palpable and Charlie feels like the worst friend in the world. He’s been blinded by his own wounds, his own problems, to see that what Nick is going through is bigger than whatever Charlie feels between them. At the end of the road, Charlie and Nick agreed to be friends. That is what they are. Charlie has to accept it, the same way Nick is learning to accept himself.

“Everything’s fine,” Charlie says gently, “I promise. I’ve just – things have been a bit complicated. You know, with Manny and stuff. But that doesn’t matter. I’m here for you. You know I am.”

Nick’s gaze shifts for a moment, at the mention of Manny.

“Do you want to talk about whatever’s going on with Manny?” Nick asks, though his voice doesn’t seem to give off the impression that he wants to talk about it.

He’s in luck, because neither does Charlie.

“No,” Charlie decides, “I want us to have a good time tonight. I want you to feel comfortable. Let’s focus on that.”

Nick gives him a soft smile. For the first time in the night, Charlie gives him a genuine smile back.

Their tiny moment of actual bliss is interrupted by a rattling sound on the kitchen island a few steps away from them. It catches both of their attention, each of them whipping their heads around to see what’s caused the clatter.

It takes Charlie a moment to realize Amy’s just dumped a bunch of pins onto their kitchen island countertop.

“Alright, queers and lads,” Amy says loud enough to make sure everyone in the room has heard her, “there’s a pin for just about every sexuality one can think of here – you’re welcome. Pick the one that best suits you and pin it to your shirt. Club rules not mine!”

Amy picks first and then everyone is going up to the countertop to pick their own. Nick looks to Charlie with worried eyes.

“Pick whichever one you feel most comfortable displaying,” Charlie all but whispers, “you don’t owe anyone anything.”

The irony in his words is not lost on him, seeing as he’s felt owed by Nick for the last week and a half. A notion that is starting to feel sillier and sillier as time goes on. Yet, the rigidity of his rubber band remains.

Nick and Charlie walk up to the island together. Charlie picks his pin with ease and doesn’t pry to see which pin Nick chooses. He wants him to feel the least amount of pressure when he comes to this, understanding that the moment is a big one for him even if he doesn’t proudly display his true sexuality on his chest.

When Charlie feels like enough time has passed for Nick to have chosen a pin, he looks over at him. Nick meets his gaze quickly, and they share a smile. A moment later, Sai and Otis call everyone around for a round of tequila shots. They don’t have enough cups or shot glasses for everyone, so they pass the bottle around, each of them taking a shot straight from it careful to not let their mouths touch the opening of the bottle. It lasts all but five minutes, with some of them complaining about the harshness of the liquid when it’s so bare. Right after they’ve finished with those shenanigans, Amy is ushering everyone out the door. Nick and Charlie step out together, each of them still shivering from the shots they took. And then somehow, as everyone piles on outside to join them on their walk to the edge of campus to call their Ubers, they become separated.

Charlie ends up next to Darcy and Tara somewhere in the front of the group. When he looks over his shoulder, he sees Nick and Amaya walking at the very back of it. Side by side. They’re talking about something Charlie can’t make out, but there are smiles on both their faces and the sight of it makes Charlie want to rip out his own eyes. Knowing that isn’t a possibility, he looks forward, begging himself to ignore it.

By the time they reach the end of their campus building, Amy takes the lead as she usually does.

“There’s absolutely no way we’re all fitting in one car, so,” Amy says, “five in one and six in the other.”

“I’ll call one of the Ubers,” Nick offers.

“So noble of you,” Amy says, sarcasm oozing through her words.

Nick just laughs it off, obviously accustomed to Amy by now.

“Alright, while Nick and I do that, start forming your groups,” Amy tells everyone.

Tara and Darcy quickly bunch together. Jess follows. Sai and Otis also group themselves together with Cristian and Daisy for Nick’s car. There’s one more seat available in each group, and only Charlie and Amaya left to sort themselves out. He waits, wanting to see who it is Nick gravitates towards.

“Would you feel comfortable riding in Amy’s car?” he hears Nick ask Amaya. It’s low, just meant for them. Charlie can’t help but eavesdrop.

“Without you? No,” Amaya quickly responds, “I still don’t trust that she’s not plotting to kill me every time I just as much as turn my back to her.”

Nick chuckles and Charlie hates the sound of it when it’s brought out of him by her.

“Really? That’s a bit dramatic, Amaya,” Nick says, all lighthearted. Then, like he can feel Charlie’s presence hanging nearby, his eyes look upwards and find Charlie’s.

Charlie looks away immediately, not wanting to seem so obviously hearing in on their private conversation. He knows it’s obvious anyway, and probably even more so with the way he looked away so quickly. But all he can care for is just how obvious it is that Nick and Charlie won’t be riding in the same car. Nick will choose to be a good friend to Amaya, and Charlie will honor it by yielding to her as well.

He walks up to Jess and puts his head on her shoulder without saying anything. He shuts his eyes, hoping for a moment of peace.

“You tired Charlie?” Darcy asks, unable to help herself from noticing everything around her.

“A bit,” Charlie answers. It isn’t a lie, though it’s not physical exhaustion he feels. It’s emotional.

“Well, pick up the energy, Charlie boy!” Darcy tells him, “We’re about to have one hell of a night. I cannot believe we’re going to a queer club with Nick Nelson and the rugby lads. That combination alone should tell us it’s going to be wild.”

Charlie tries to laugh, like he’s in any mood for it, “sure, Darcy.”

Before Darcy can tell him much more, Amy announces the Ubers should be arriving shortly. They all stand around, not talking about anything of much substance. Charlie tries to hide his disappointment behind forced smiles and inconsequential chatter that doesn’t involve Nick. He gives them the space he needs from them to be able to not break. He’s on the verge of it. Can feel it in every fiber that makes up who he is. He’s fighting it off the best he can, but he’s not sure his best is good enough.

 The Ubers then arrive, and they split, each group climbing into their own car.

Charlie sinks into the seat by the window, next to Jess who is sat next to Amy. His body is physically in the Uber with his friends, but his mind is lost elsewhere. He wants to bring his spirits up, be in the moment. But there are so many things wandering throughout his mind. So much poison he can feel seeping into his every thought. He hasn’t felt like this in so long. These feelings of inadequacy and self-consciousness weren’t foreign to the old version of himself, but Charlie’s been good at shutting out the vicious voice in his mind, the one that sounds so much like Ben’s, for so long that they are foreign to the version of himself he was sure he’d become. But tonight, he’s faced with the bleak reality that maybe he hasn’t made as many strides as he once thought. That perhaps he’s not as different as he thinks he is. Perhaps he’s never outgrown that version of him, and all it takes is one slip to bring him back into the maze.

He's only able to bring himself back into the moment when he hears a snippet of something that catches his ear.

“—relationship is rather odd,” someone says.

He realizes it’s Jess, sat next to him.

“The whole thing is odd,” Amy comments, “Amaya Rodriguez has been a raging, self-centered bitch since the moment I met her. Now she’s suddenly docile and nice? Why?”

“I think we’re being harsh,” Tara says, always the peacemaker, “people can change. Didn’t Nick say something about her going through a reform or something?”

“He did but,” Amy says, then stops. Whatever she was going to finish the sentence with, she thinks better of. Charlie’s not sure why, but he has an inkling that’s got to do with him.

“I mean if anyone here knows anything it should be Charlie boy,” Darcy says, redirecting all eyes on Charlie, “you and Nick seem to be kind of close friends. What’s the deal with him and Amaya? And just Amaya in general?”

He can feel everyone’s attention on him, waiting for his response. Charlie has always hated so much attention on him. He’s always just craved individual attention. And he’s always starved when it comes to that and overindulged when it’s a collective group.

He shifts uncomfortably in his seat as the attention on him remains.

“I…” Charlie doesn’t even know what to make of it himself, “he says they’ve agreed to be just friends and that she’s, I don’t know – looking to be better? Beyond that I – I really don’t know much.”

“He did tell me they weren’t sleeping together anymore during music night,” Amy adds, “don’t see why he’d like to me about that, of all people.”

“But they’re so attached,” Jess points out, “I mean – she told you she’s trying to expand her social circle, but she goes in a car with Nick and his friends that she’s known for as long as she’s known him. I think this whole thing is a ploy to get back together with him. And this time, not just as fuck buddies but like a full-blown relationship.”

When Jess puts it like that, it’s hard for Charlie not to see the logic in it. It’s already difficult for Charlie to wrap his head around why their physical relationship came to an end. He knows Nick had his whole thing with that boy, but once that was over, he doesn’t understand why everything with Amaya didn’t resume. And he can hardly comprehend how they go from being that to just friends. He and Nick are also just friends, but he knows how he feels about that. What if Amaya feels just the same?

Charlie can feel himself spiraling and that rubber band pulls back ever so slightly, testing his limits. All of it makes him sick to his stomach. So much that he feels like he might throw up as his thoughts swirl around his head.

As if the universe is willing to grant him some mercy, their Uber comes to stop at that exact moment. It halts the entire conversation and where it was headed, shifting the group’s focus to their timely arrival. Charlie could get on his knees with gratitude.

They all pile out of the car one by one. Charlie lets himself be the last, using the few seconds of silence and solitude he gets to recompose himself. He wants to push his own personal feelings aside and be there for Nick, how he has been throughout this journey. How Nick’s asked him to be. But he’s starting to fear that by prioritizing Nick’s growth, he’s destroying his own. He takes in a deep breath and counts to three. He releases it only then.

When he steps out, he nearly bumps into Amy. She’s standing right in front of the vehicle, like she was waiting for him. When they meet eyes, he knows that she was. He knows what she’s going to say. But Charlie can’t stomach it. He just can’t.

“Charlie, I think –”

He doesn’t let her finish.

“Amy, please leave it,” Charlie pleads.

For once, Amy does as he asks. She doesn’t protest. She doesn’t push. She respects his boundary like if she’d be the one to draw it herself. He can tell it doesn’t come easily to her. He can see the frustration in her eyes, the indecision in the way her mouth still slightly hangs open, like the words are at the tip of her tongue and she’s doing her best to just not speak them. At the end of it though, she doesn’t. She turns from him, leaving him with all her unspoken words that he knows anyway.

When Charlie looks up, he sees that Nick’s Uber has arrived as well. Their groups mesh into one again. Charlie looks for Nick and finds him standing next to Cristian. It’s better than if he had seen him standing right next to Amaya, though Charlie’s not sure how many mores times throughout the night he’ll get so lucky.

He doesn’t go up to Nick, and instead stands next to Jess and walks next to her as the entire group makes their way over to make the line to the entrance. It’s not an extremely long line, but still one that’ll have them standing and waiting around for a good ten minutes. Everyone is lost in conversation around him, and Charlie is lost in himself. He looks down at his shoes as he waits, trying to reel it back in. Trying to stop himself from feeling as pathetic as the voice in his head is trying to remind him he is.

He starts wondering how many mistakes he’s made when it comes to Nick Nelson. And how many he’ll continue to make. And as if Nick can hear those very questions, he comes up to Charlie a moment later. Charlie only knows it’s him because he’d recognize those chucks on him anywhere. They nudge lightly against Charlie’s own vans.

Charlie blinks and looks up.

Nick is standing before him, and there’s a timidness to him that Charlie doesn’t expect.

“Hi,” Nick says, his voice as timid as he looks.

“Hi,” Charlie says back.

“I, uhm,” Nick clears his throat into his fist, “Will you help me put this on?” he asks, and before Charlie can wonder what exactly he’s asking of him, he’s opening his palm up to reveal a pin. No bigger than the size of a nickel, lying flat on Nick’s palm is a pin with the bisexual flag colors. Charlie stares down at the pink and royal blue that lay in his hands, with an overlapping purple stripe right in the middle.

Charlie can’t help but feel a sense of pride. It makes him smile again, genuinely, for only the second time that night.

“Of course,” Charlie doesn’t need to think about this, “yes.”

He grabs the pin gently from Nick’s hand. Skin lightly grazes skin, and the touch is light as a feather and as charged as an electron. It’s chemical, but Charlie does his best to ignore it because he understands this isn’t about him. It’s about Nick. It’s about Nick taking the monumental step forward to being comfortable enough to wear his true sexuality on his chest in a room full of people who don’t know him and a group of people who do. Without trying to overthink his every move, Charlie goes to place the pin on Nick’s shirt. Right over his heart. If Nick was picky about the placement, he doesn’t voice it. He lets Charlie do as he wants and says nothing about it.

         Charlie can feel Nick watching him the entire time he does it. He tries not to wonder too much about what Nick might be thinking. Once he’s sure the pin is secured on Nick’s tank top, Charlie’s gaze goes upwards, meeting Nick’s careful eyes that having stopped looking at him. It’s not something Charlie can find himself complaining about.

         “It looks good on you,” Charlie tells him.

         One corner of Nick’s mouth lifts, “yeah?”

         Charlie nods, “yes. I’m proud of you.”

         Nick breathes in, “you’re here,” he exhales, “everything is so much easier when you’re here.”

         Charlie doesn’t know what to say to that. So, he doesn’t say anything. He lets the words be soaked up his skin, making their way to his blood stream and then straight to his heart. It doesn’t seem like Nick knows what to say either, because he doesn’t say much more. He turns and stands next to Charlie. They wait in mostly silence as the line gets shorter and shorter. Before ten minutes are even up, they’re almost at the front.

         “You feeling ready for this?” Charlie asks Nick, not looking over to him as he does.

         “As ready as I’ll ever be,” is Nick’s response.

         Charlie knows it’s as good as it’s going to get.

         They reach the front, everyone in their group showing their IDs for admission. Once they’re all inside, Charlie is engulfed in a world that he doesn’t visit often but wishes he lived in every day. The music is loud and pulsing, coursing through their veins like their own blood. The lights are a kaleidoscope of colors, ranging from blue to red to every other color in the rainbow as it dances on their skin. The atmosphere is euphoric, and the euphoria from everyone in the room spreads like smoke.

         It makes Charlie feel better already, just being in an environment that is so welcoming and open. Charlie always feels like the truest version in places that feel safe for him, and people like him. He hopes Nick can feel the same. But when he turns to see the look on his face, Nick’s been dragged away by Sai. His arms are around Nick’s shoulders, and he’s saying something to Nick that Charlie can’t make out but he’s sure is fairly positive given the giant smile on their faces. It makes Charlie happy that Nick has what he can make out to be supportive friends. Even if they’re all not entirely sure what they’re meant to be supportive of.

         Charlie goes towards his own friends, all of whom are making their way to the bar. The bar of the club has always intrigued Charlie. It doesn’t have a definitive shape, with dips and curves all throughout the edges of the bar. It’s lit up by neon lights, with little mushroom paintings all over the bar top.

         “What’re you going to order, Charlie boy?” Darcy asks next to him.

         “Something strong,” he answers easily.

         Darcy gives him an encouraging slap on his back, “atta boy! First round’s on me.”

         “No, no!” Charlie hears a voice protest, “first round is on me.”

         Before Charlie can register who the voice belongs to, he sees Cristian come up right in between himself and Darcy. He snuggles himself in between them, smiling big and wide at them both.

         “I’m opening up a tab,” he tells them, “Just order whatever you want under my name.”

         Darcy’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, “well you definitely don’t have to tell me twice.”

         Cristian laughs and so does Charlie, always finding amusement in Darcy’s free-spirited fun. She works on flagging down a bartender for them quickly now that she knows Cristian’s paying. Charlie becomes distracted by the mushroom drawings on the bar top, tracing it with his finger as Darcy does her best to get a bartender to open up Cristian’s tab and take their orders.

         “I mean it,” he hears Cristian say right into his ear, “get whatever you want!”

         Charlie looks at him, and gives him a small smile, “you really don’t need to do this, you know? Daisy’s pretty lost on you already.”

         It’s true. Charlie can see it every time they merely meet eyes.

         “I’m not really doing this for Daisy, to be honest,” Cristian reveals, “this is more for Nick.”

         Charlie is as perplexed by Cristian’s statement as he is intrigued.

         “Nick?” he questions.

         Cristian nods, “yup! I just want him to feel like it doesn’t matter you know? Whatever he is or isn’t we’re all his friends, even if we’re different, and love him either way.”

         The sentiment makes Charlie’s heart sputter. He almost wishes Nick was around to hear it himself. He looks over his shoulder, searching the crowd for him but doesn’t find him right away. It’s only when he looks across the top of Cristian and Darcy’s head that he catches sight of Nick’s. It takes him a few minutes to notice him standing in between Amaya and Amy. Charlie quickly tears his eyes away, the cruel voice in his head looming at the corners.

         “You know I think it’s really cool that you two are such good mates,” Cristian says, and Charlie feels the deflation of all his dreaming in those simple words.

         He says nothing of it, of course.

         “Yeah,” Charlie says, unsure how many more times he’ll be able to handle anyone, even himself, referring to him and Nick as friends.

         Good mates.

         Darcy saves the day, wrapping one arm around Cristian’s shoulder just as their bartender makes their way to them. Charlie’s seen them a couple of times that they’ve been here in the past. They have a pixie cut and sleeves of tattoos on tattooed skin, a non-binary flag pin always pinned in the center of their shirt.

         “My friend here is opening a tab and allowing us the pleasure of putting our first round of drinks on it,” Darcy says enthusiastically, “so, please open a tab under Crissy and add one of those signature flamingo cocktails on it.”

         Their bartender smiles and nods, “and for you, Crissy?”

         Cristian, if phased by the nickname, doesn’t show it one bit. Instead, he smiles without a care in the world, “I’ll take one of the flamingo cocktails too.”

         “Very good choice,” their bartender tells them, “And for you?” they ask Charlie.

         Charlie’s looking to drown out so many emotions. He’s looking for gold in liquid. So, he doesn’t go for the same flamingo cocktail which he’s had before, and is yummy but more sugar than it is alcohol.

         “I’ll take a double vodka club soda,” he says determined, “and a tequila shot.”

         “Oh shit,” Cristian says next to him.

         “Fuck yeah, Charlie!” Darcy says encouragingly, “let me actually get a shot too!”

         “Me too!” Cristian joins in, and then because everyone is taking Charlie’s final attempt at not breaking as a sign of adulterated fun, Cristian adds, “actually, a shot for everyone right here!”

         He gestures to their group, everyone that’s huddled at the bar with them. It catches people attention, and soon everyone is hollering and clapping and generally having a good time. Charlie wants to join in, but he feels more like the bartender that clearly finds amusement in their antics, but it also slightly annoyed they have to make eleven shots.

         Charlie waits for his drinks next to Cristian and Darcy that engage in light-hearted conversation. When their bartender finally brings them their drinks, he’s more than happy to start indulging. But he’s told to wait by Darcy, so that they can all cheers and take their shots together. Charlie plays along, being a good sport.

         Like you always are. Always willing to put everyone before yourself.

         They gather around, making a circle of sorts. Charlie’s eyes continuously land on Nick, despite his very little desire to actually look his way. He doesn’t know how much more he’ll able to swallow watching Nick laugh and smile with Amaya. Every time it feels like a punch to the gut. He’s standing next to Amy, who’s standing next to Amaya, and when his eyes look back to Charlie, he gives him a full-fledged smile. Charlie almost feels guilty for not being able to return it.

         “Alright queers and lads, I don’t know how we ended up here,” Amy says, “but here we are. To ‘Truth!’”

         Amy lifts her shot glass over her head, and everyone else in the group follows suit.

         "To 'Truth!’” they all echo, not entirely in unison. And then they’re all pounding back their shots – not entirely in unison either.

         The alcohol is liquid gas as it descends down Charlie’s throat, but he welcomes the warm feeling of an upcoming buzz he already feels in his veins.

         The night really seems to start in that moment. Daisy twirls and then grabs Cristian in what seems to be a singular movement, leading them to get lost in the crowd in the dance floor. That prompts everyone who wants to dance to follow along. Jess goes and Amy is quick to follow right after. To Charlie’s surprise, she grabs Amaya’s arm.

         “Let’s go,” Amy tells her, “I’m dying to see your moves.”

         “You’ve seen my moves plenty of times, I’m sure,” Amaya rebuttals.

         Amy doesn’t give her a response and instead just yanks her arm harder. Amaya trips a bit over her own two feet but then starts moving.

         It leaves Tara, Darcy, Sai, Otis, Nick and Charlie to awkwardly stand around. Charlie’s usually in a dancing mood when he’s in these places and given that the place is no more crowded than it usually is, he’d likely already be on the dance floor if it was any other night. But it isn’t any other night. For so many reasons. Some which Charlie still can’t face.

         Charlie looks over at Nick, who is looking right back at him. He looks like he’s about to move towards Charlie and then Tara speaks abruptly. Nick’s feet stay where he stands, across from Charlie.

         “We’re not just going to stand around now, are we?” Tara asks them, looking around at everyone like she’s challenging them.

         Sai awkwardly shifts his feet, “I don’t – is there even anyone here who’d want to dance with us?”

         He gestures to himself and Otis and Charlie almost finds it so amusing he spits out his drink. He doesn’t of course, but it is a close call.

         “Oh my god,” Tara laughs, “don’t be daft! There’s plenty of people who want to dance with you here! Let’s go.”

         She grabs Sai and Otis’ hands and starts pulling them towards the dance floor. For a moment, Darcy and Charlie and think they’re off the hook, but then she quickly reminds them they’re not.

         “You three as well!” Tara adds, still standing in front of them, “let’s go!”

         “Babe, you know dancing isn’t my thing,” Darcy groans.

         “I don’t care! Let’s dance!” Tara tells her.

         And because Darcy goes wherever Tara calls her to, she starts following her and the lads to the dance floor with just one roll of her eyes. Knowing there’s no chance Charlie and Nick will be able to stay behind without being pestered, Charlie starts following too. And before they all even realize they had very little to no choice in the matter, they’re all on the dance floor. There’s a song with a good beat Charlie only faintly recognizes playing, and it’s enough to get Tara moving easily. Darcy quickly molds into Tara’s own dance moves. And just as Charlie thinks the boys might explode with awkwardness, Amy appears.

         She grabs both Sai and Otis’ hands and lifts them up over their heads, “move, idiots! Just do whatever!”

         Then taking her own advice, Amy starts dancing in the most uncoordinated set of moves Charlie’s ever seen her partake in. But it does the trick. As if her own silliness unlocks the carefreeness in everyone around her, the boys start moving like they actually know what they’re doing. It’s a party trick only someone like Amy could pull out of her hat so easily. So effortlessly.

         Charlie watches in amusement, not noticing himself swaying. Without meaning to, his shoulder bumps into Nick’s.

         “Sorry,” Charlie apologizes.

         Nick gives him a soft smile, “what have I told you about you overusing that word?”

         “That wasn’t an over usage when I literally bumped into you on accident.”

         “I didn’t mind.”

         Sometimes Charlie wishes Nick would stop saying things like that. Sometimes he wishes he never would.

         Charlie takes a sip of his drink, “how’re you liking this so far?”

         “I like it,” Nick says, “it’s very…. Colorful.”

         Charlie giggles, “I hope you’re having fun.”

         “Of course I am,” Nick answers, and then, “Charlie, I—”

         He doesn’t get to finish his sentence.

         A moment later, a sweaty and clearly out of breath Amaya comes jumping up to Nick. Charlie makes space for her, stepping away.

         “Shots!” Amaya declares in Nick’s face, bouncing up and down making her cleavage look even more appealing than before, “we need more shots.”

         Nick laughs but puts his hands on her shoulders to calm her. And that’s about enough of that Charlie can take. He can’t stretch any further. And he can’t snap. Not tonight at least. He genuinely wants Nick’s experience to be a good one, whether that be because of him or despite of him. And in the moment, Charlie doesn’t think it’ll be because of him. He doesn’t think he’s capable.

         So, he exerts himself. Without a word, he takes a giant gulp of his drink, and he grabs Amy’s hand. They may not be in the best of terms, but if there’s one person that’ll just get lost in the music with him, it’s Amy. He drags her a bit away from their friends, hoping they don’t follow, and further into the crowd. When he finds a spot a comfortable and safe distance away, he turns to face her.

         Amy looks at him questionably, her eyes squinted as she looks up at him.

         “I just want to dance freely and not worry about a damn thing,” Charlie tells her openly, “please.”

         Amy’s not the kind of person to easily back down or butt out. She has many amazing qualities to her, but Charlie knows neither of those are any of them. However, one thing Charlie has probably taken for granted in recent weeks is Amy’s ability to be a great friend. Because as if those qualities are innate in her, she does exactly what Charlie has barely asked of her.

         She doesn’t ask him questions. She doesn’t say another word. She dances. Her limbs creating thoughts of their own and Charlie’s do just the same. He doesn’t know how long they stay like that. Just them two, moving around one another, then moving entirely independently from one another. Just letting the music do the work for them.

A couple of people approach both of them to join them, and lately Charlie’s gotten good at burying his feelings into nameless and pointless acts of affections with strangers, but tonight is not that night. Tonight, he just wants to find some peace in and with himself.

         Unfortunately, their therapeutic dancing session only lasts about ten or so minutes. Like a tick Charlie can’t get rid of it, Amaya appears before them. She’s with Tara and Darcy only though, shots in her hands.

         “Got you guys some drinks!” she says, as she hands out shots to both Charlie and Amy.

         Charlie can’t ignore Nick’s lack of presence by her side.

         He downs the shot, not waiting for some sort of group cheers, and uses the liquid courage to ask, “where’s Nick?”

         “He’s being lame and hanging back at the bar,” Amaya gives him a smile, “they’re not very good dancers.”

         “Men are so lame,” Amy comments, “why the fuck are either of you into them?”

         Amaya laughs off the question. Charlie actually takes a moment to contemplate it. Then Amy starts dancing like she never asked it. Amaya starts dancing right away too. The moment she does, Charlie can feel the people around her be sucked in by her very existence. She’s a magnet for attention, from both the men and the women in the room that have the potential of being interested. Charlie can grab attention, but he’s never quite pulled at it the way he’s witnessing Amaya do it. And something about it bothers him more than it probably should. And then he’s bothered that he’s even bothered.

         He knows what his mind is doing. It’s creating a competition between him and Amaya that doesn’t need to exist but it starting to manifest anyway.

         He’s annoyed with himself. With his mind, constantly plagued with sicknesses he can’t just overcome. Suddenly he’s parched.

         Without a word, Charlie leaves them. He heads straight for the bar. He is so determined to drown out all his feelings, he barely notices Nick. Charlie barely noticing Nick is not a normal thing for him. It’s further confirmation that his mind isn’t on right.

         “Hey,” Nick says, as Charlie nearly walks right by him without a single glance his way.

         “Hi,” Charlie says, trying to sound as normal as he definitely doesn’t feel, “all good?”

         “Yeah,” Nick gives Charlie a look, and Charlie looks away to grab the bartender’s attention, “this place has good vibes. How about you?”

         “Yeah,” Charlie says, and then he’s putting two fingers in the air and calling a bartender over. It gets the attention of someone behind the bar. Not the same bartender from earlier, but a boy with hazel eyes and dark black hair on his head. He’s handsome, and if Charlie’s heart wasn’t wasted on someone he can never have, it would matter.

         “Can I have a double vodka and club soda, please?” Charlie orders, not bothering for formalities.

         “Sure thing,” the guy says, a tight smile on his face, “you want anything?”

         Charlie turns his head to face Nick, realizing the bartender is talking to him because Nick is still standing right next to Charlie. Only a couple of feet away.

         “Just a beer, please,” Nick orders.

         “Gotcha,” the bartender responds, “either of you have a tab open or opening one up?”

         Charlie is about to respond, but Nick is quicker.

         “You could put it under ‘Nelson.’ Open tab.”

         “Nick, you don’t –”

         “Please,” Nick tells the bartender.

         The bartender’s eyes dart between Nick and Charlie but he eventually just nods. A moment later, he’s gone, charging their order to Nick’s tab and grabbing their drinks.

         Charlie sighs, “you didn’t have to pay for them.”

         “It’s not a big deal,” Nick assures him.

         Charlie thinks anything Nick does is a big deal. Nick doesn’t understand. He possibly couldn’t.

         Nick leans in, “Charlie, are you sure everything is okay?”

         The question is one far too complicated for Charlie to answer.

         But he does anyway.

         “Of course,” he lies – like he has been on all night – “I told you earlier I was fine. Why wouldn’t  I be?”

         Nick’s eyes scan him, and Charlie can feel him inside his own mind. Searching the corners. Undoing the cabinets. He hopes it’s as hard for him to decode as Nick’s head is hard for him.

         “You just seem…” Nick’s voice trails off, and for a moment Charlie thinks he isn’t going to finish the thought. He’d be grateful if he didn’t. But he does.

         “Off.”

         “I’m not,” Charlie resists, “I just want to give you space to, you know – explore. I don’t want you to feel suffocated by me.”

         The way I’m beginning to feel suffocated by you. By all I feel for you.

         Nick gives him a soft and slow smile, “Charlie, I could never feel suffocated by you, I think. I like spending time with you. And I told you earlier – having you by my side for this is the only reason I even have the courage to be here right now.”

         Is Charlie the shittiest friend in the world? He’s beginning to think he is. Being utterly selfish over his pathetic and unrequited feelings when his friend is in need of him. Has asked for his help.

         You are as selfish as you are pathetic, the mean voice in his head sneers at him.

         Charlie plans to squash it all at once with his actions.

         “Let’s grab our drinks,” Charlie tells Nick, “And then lets go dance with our friends.”

         “I’m not a good dancer.”

         “It’s for fun,” Charlie reminds him, “you’re here to have fun and let loose with people that are just like you. Like us.”

         “Okay.”

         “Okay.”

         Once their drinks come, Charlie drags Nick and Sai and Otis back to the dance floor. They find Amaya and Amy easily, each of them dancing a bit closer than when Charlie had left them. They’re also accompanied by Tara and Darcy too. Charlie lets loose the moment they all come together. With a drink in his hand and the right intentions in his heart, he nods at Nick to do the same. To just let the music take him and enjoy himself. Nick seems to get the cue. He starts moving. His movement are not as free and loose-limbed as the rest of them, but Charlie can see the tensions in his muscles dissolve with each beat he attempts to hit. Even in his tank top, his muscles fully out in display, each outline that of mountains, Charlie can see the ease in them. Until eventually, everyone is dancing. And everyone is having a good time. Even Charlie, who still holds his breath any time Nick and Amaya get too close. But they never get close like that. They never make Charlie sicker to his stomach. Nick and Charlie don’t touch either. They dance in each other’s orbit, but their galaxies never quite meet. And Charlie wonders, though he tries not to.

         Will it always be enough to just float in Nick’s orbit?

         About five songs later, Nick touches Charlie’s shoulder. Charlie almost feels electrocuted by the touch.

Almost.

         “Want another drink?” Nick asks, right in Charlie’s ear, his hot breath making Charlie shudder. But it’s his touch on the small of Charlie’s back that makes Charlie’s knees forget their purpose.

         Charlie tries to hold himself up.

         “Yes, but I can pay for this round,” Charlie says, trying to turn his head just enough for Nick to hear him.

         “No need,” Nick tells him, and then his hand is sliding over Charlie’s waist until his touch is gone, “I’ll be right back.”

         Charlie looks at Nick and barely nods. He’s lost not only on his touch, but also by the way Nick’s hair has started to stick to his forehead. It isn’t slicked back anymore, parted perfectly to the side like it usually is. It’s wet from the sweat of dancing, and flat from the same thing. And if Charlie expected that to make him less attractive, it’s only had the opposite effect.

         Nick backs away from him slowly, then takes Sai and Darcy with him to the bar to get drinks. Charlie stays behind with the rest of their group and continues to dance. He gets closer to Tara, as Amaya and Amy continue to dance mainly with one another. It isn’t a complaint in Charlie’s book, just an observation. They’re all coming down from the song that’s just finished playing when the next one comes on.

         The melody starts and Charlie immediately recognizes it. He’s heard Amy playing it all over the flat ever since it came out.

         Arianna Grande’s voice blares through the speakers, and the crowd goes wild.

         ‘I didn’t think you’d understand me.’

         “Holy shit!” Amy yells, jumping up and down and holding onto Amaya’s hand very tightly, “I fucking love this song.”

         “What song is this?” Otis dumbly asks.

         “The best fucking song,” Amy tells him easily, “you lot better fucking dance and sing. Let’s go!”

         And then the chorus starts and it isn’t because Amy’s demanded it, but more because the beat and the atmosphere around them is too hard for Charlie to ignore. He starts bopping up and down himself, shaking his head and dancing circles on his own. The energy in the dance floor is so contagious even Otis gets into it and before Charlie can even register what is happening, he and Amy are yelling the lyrics right back to one another while giving it their all with their uncoordinated and absolutely chaotic dance moves. He can feel eyes on them, and usually it would make Charlie terribly subconscious that he’d stop. He’s not sure if it’s the alcohol or everything else, but Charlie can’t seem to give a damn. For once in his life.

         “Know that you made me,” Amy sings to Charlie.

         “I don’t like how you paint me, yet I’m still here hanging,” Charlie sings right back.

         Together, they sing, “not what you made me, it’s something like a daydream!”

         Then the entire dance floor can be heard singing.

         ‘But I feel so seen in the night.’

         Then it’s like time slows down. It’s impossible, Charlie knows. But as he listens to the lyrics, so loudly being sung by everyone around him, his heart picks up on them too. His mind is unable to tune it out. And it dawns on Charlie that no amount of alcohol was going to come to his rescue tonight. No amount of dancing was going to cure his illness. No amount of anything will stop Charlie’s own truth from revealing itself. Because as the crowd sings, Charlie’s rubber band is stretched to its last end. And it finally snaps.

         He finally snaps.

         He feels the waves of his emotions crash into him like a shipwreck. Like the shipwreck that he is. His mind doesn’t lie to him for the first time in the entire night. It answers his question from before with absolutely clarify. With no bit of ambiguity.

         It is not enough to just float in his orbit anymore. You can’t pretend any longer than friends is all you are. Or all you want to be. Or all your feelings allow you to be. The jig is up.

         Charlie’s eyes find Nick’s. He’s several feet away, so many people in between them. Yet, he’s all Charlie can see. His vision entirely focused on him and nothing and no one else. He barely makes out the person standing next to Nick. He knows it’s a guy who isn’t Sai, and that the guy has his arm around Nick’s shoulder. He knows the guy is probably speaking sweet nothings into Nick’s ear. But he knows Nick can’t hear it. Because it’s in that moment that his eyes find Charlie’s too. Like they always do.

         In that same moment, the beat comes to a halt, and all that can be heard throughout the entire room are Ariana’s isolated vocals – Charlie hears it loud and clear too.

         We. Can’t. Be. Friends.

         But unlike Ariana Grande, Charlie wouldn’t like to keep pretending. He can’t.

         There’s a question in Nick’s eyes. And there’s an answer in the way Charlie shakes his head. Just once. So subtly, anyone else would’ve missed it. But Charlie knows Nick doesn’t. He knows it in the way Nick’s jaw seems to go slack, and his eyes soften. He knows that he’s unmasked himself in front of Nick. He feels everything he’s built on false pretenses crumble around him. All of a sudden, anywhere near Nick is the last place he wants to be.

         S, he goes. He doesn’t think about his friends or what they must be thinking as he silently backs away from them. A look of horror on his face. Tears springing into his eyes.

         He knows he can’t blame Nick. Neither does he. He blames himself. For allowing himself to play the fool once again. For allowing his heart to feel the stabbing pain he feels in the moment. It’s the kind of pain that knocks the wind out of you.

         Charlie feels almost out of oxygen by the time he reaches the exit door of the bar. Then when he does, he realizes it’s pouring. Rain coming down hard above him. Unforgiving, like the rest of his emotions. And he thinks, fuck it, because he has very little left to lose and everything to gain from just creating distance. Distance he should’ve kept all along because this was always going to be the outcome. Just because he tried to fool himself into believing he was okay with being less, and a tiny part of him always hoped for more, it didn’t mean anything was ever going to turn out differently.

         He doesn’t even know if it’s rain or his own tears streaking down his face as he walks in the rain. But he’s too focused on his own two feet and his own throbbing head to notice right away that someone is calling his name.

         It takes that person around three tries until Charlie actually hears it.

         “Charlie!” he finally registers, and when he does, he stops.

         Charlie stops aimlessly walking, his destination unknown and turns to face the person calling after him.

         The moment he sees Nick running right for him, every cell in Charlie’s body seems to explode. He’s sizzling with something hot and bothersome, as Nick’s pace picks up as he moves towards Charlie. Every atom that makes up who Charlie is reacts.

         Nick’s chest heaves once he’s reached Charlie. He’s standing right in front of him, clearly out of breath, and Charlie wonders it’s just the running that’s had that effect on him.

         “Charlie,” Nick breathes as rain pours around them, “what’s going on? Why did you just run out like that? And where are you even going? It's pouring out here.”

         Charlie pauses. He takes a good look at Nick. And he hates that the only thing he can really think of is how obscenely beautiful he is. The rain glistens on his skin, wetting his eyelashes and matting down his hair to his forehead in only a way Nick Nelson would make appealing. It’s so confounding, and Charlie contemplates lying one last time. Leaving it all behind and finding his own way to bury the truth. But he knows his heart won’t allow him to. It’s going to make him spill his secrets because they’re already bleeding out inside him. Consuming him.

         It’s simply just too late to bury it.

         “You know,” Charlie says, “you have to know.”

         Nick’s pinched expression irons out the moment he’s able to process Charlie’s words. Just by that one change, that one look, Charlie knows that Nick knows exactly what he’s referring to.

         “Charlie,” he says like an apology. And Charlie can’t accept that. He won't accept that. 

         “I’ve tried to fight it. Rationalize it in my head. I’ve tried to steer with caution, but it has been utterly useless. Because despite all your pushing and pulling, and all of my logic screaming at me, I cannot help the way I feel,” Charlie can feel his own rattled breathing as he speaks, “about you. And I think you know it isn’t the way friends feel about friends. You’ve likely ignored it because you don’t feel the same or because you refuse to feel the same and that’s okay– but you can’t deny that you know how I feel. It is written on every look I throw your way. And literally written in the poems I’ve woven you into and read out loud to a room full of strangers just hoping you'd understand. So, you have to know. And now, that we're both fully aware of it, I need you also know - to understand that I just can’t do this anymore. I’m sorry, Nick. But I can’t. I can't just be your friend, because it is literally destroying me to keep this all neatly tucked away. I just can't anymore.”

         He can barely feel his fingertips by the time he’s done. The loud beating of his heart makes his chest hurt. He sees Nick swallow, but he doesn't respond right away. Their eyes never leave on another's, but Charlie can’t wait around for Nick to think of the perfect thing to say. Just the right thing that will reveal but also conceal the right bits of information. No – Charlie refuses to. He just can't keep playing this game with Nick. So, as much as he doesn’t want to, he turns on his heel and gives his back to Nick. And Nick might be right, he has no idea where he's headed in this thunderstorm, but he just knows he can't be around Nick like this. 

         He’s already a few steps ahead when he feels Nick’s hand grab his own. The touch is a burning flame to his longing desire. Before he can react to the touch, Nick is pulling him into a nearby alleyway. And before Charlie can fully register what is going on, his back is against a brick wall and there’s a tiny roof over their heads. The rain isn’t pouring all around them, but they’re still drenched all the same.

         Nick stands before him, closer than they've ever been. So close, Charlie traces a raindrop that rolls off Nick’s nose, hitting his upper lip. 

         “If you think that I have to know all that, then you I think you also have to know,” Nick says, but his voice is low and yet, rings so loudly in Charlie’s ears.

         Charlie’s eyes meet his, “Nick, I don't know what you –“

         “You have to know how absolutely difficult it is for me to be around you and not touch you,” Nick takes a step forward, and the small space he'd been leaving between them becomes even smaller, catching Charlie's breath, “how hard I have to try to keep that distance. So much that my hands ache every time I leave you from how hard I hold back. Because any time we’ve threatened that distance, it has the same dangerous addictiveness to it as what I assume heroin has. And how absolutely frustrating it is for me not to give in to that addiction. How absolutely infuriating it is for me to have to watch you parade around with idiots that don’t deserve even a quarter of you, but even more so how infuriating it is that I need to keep my mouth shut about it because neither do I. Neither do I with the shit that I can offer you. That every time I pull back it isn’t because I want to but because I have to. Because ever since I’ve met you, I’ve had to fight off every single desire, every single instinct in my body. And it is exhausting but I’d continue to do it if it meant that I'd get to have even just a fraction of you. Because no one and let me clear so you understand – no one makes me feel the way you do, and that has been both everything I’ve ever dreamt of and everything I’ve ever feared.”

         By the time Nick is done talking, Charlie’s back is fully flattened against the brick wall behind him. Nick’s arms box him in, with each on either side of his face. Their faces are inches away from one another, Nick's hot breath hiting Charlie and warming him right up. Charlie would only have to move a few centimeters for them to touch. But he’s not too focused on that and instead more focused on his breathing. It’s like he’s forgotten how to do that, every one of Nick’s words taking all the oxygen available to him.

         “If by any chance you didn’t know any of that, I hope now you do. And that there's no doubt in your mind that we've both been enduring the same fucking torture.”

         Charlie’s not sure if he gasps, or if another noise entirely leaves his mouth. He just knows whatever noise it was he just made – one wrapped in the disbelief of Nick’s confession – catches Nick’s attention. Nick’s eyes flick down to his mouth. They linger, momentarily. Too momentarily. Because their back on Charlie’s in an instant. For the first time since the first time they ever did this dance, Charlie can feel both of their waves crashing into one another at the same time. Their jet streams finally crossing the same galaxy. And he thinks Nick is going to do it. He’s going to do the very thing Charlie has imagined so many times in his head, in so many different settings, in so many different ways. And yet he knows the reality of it could never compare to Charlie’s wild imagination.

         He’s going to kiss me, Charlie thinks.

         But then Nick does the exact opposite. He abruptly pushes himself off the wall, creating that distance he just said takes everything in him to create time and time again. He seems to have enough energy left in him to do it one more time. Because He gives Charlie one final look, one that Charlie tries to make out but as usual – can’t. And without saying another word, Nick walks back and away. Back into the rain. Leaving Charlie on his own.

         The moment Nick is gone, Charlie can feel the oxygen return to him. Charlie takes it in all in, in quick bursts, literally catching his breath. He puts a hand on his chest and looks up, his head spinning with every word Nick just spoke to him. With every meaning behind them too.

         He is left bereft and reeling, with those swirling thoughts that feel like a greater storm in his mind than the one physically taking place around him. And all Charlie can think are three simple words.

         What.

         The.

         Fuck?

Chapter Text

Nick makes it home a quarter past midnight. He doesn’t even know he managed to do it without falling apart. His mind is still trying to come to terms with everything that happened. Everything he said. Completely unplanned. It’d just been like word vomit – the words tumbling out of his mouth like a bile he needed to get rid of. Like a bile he could no longer hold down. It was as if the moment Charlie said his truth out loud, Nick couldn’t deny his any longer either.

It was just like watching someone else vomit. You suddenly get the urge to do it too.

Nick doesn’t even know how he said half the things he said. He was mortified the moment he stopped talking. The moment it was all out there. Mainly because Nick knows there’s no taking it back. There’s no going back. And he doesn’t know what they’ll look like moving forward. He doesn’t know what the next steps are. He doesn’t know what corner they’ve just turned.

It took all his strength to push off that wall. To get as far away from Charlie as he possibly could. Because even if they had just confessed all those repressed feelings to one another – sharing the sentiment of torture of wanting one another in unfathomable ways – what did it really change? What good would it have done for Nick to give into those feelings further? To take his words and turn them into actions? Into actions he’s been devoting way too many of his thoughts to.

Nothing good could come of it.

Thomas was a lesson. He won’t turn Charlie into another.

He doesn’t let anyone know he’s left until he’s about to hop in the shower. He sends a text to the group chat composed of him, Sai, Otis and Cristian and lets them know in a simple worded text that he had to head home unexpectedly. He tells them his tab is still open and to get whatever they want until their night is over. He doesn’t wait for a text to come back from any of them. He doesn’t care to answer questions or give more information. He locks his phone right after he’s texted, putting it on do not disturb, and gets into his shower with scathing hot water.

He lets the water wash over him and he stays there like that. As he thinks about Charlie and everything their night entailed. He’d envisioned it going completely differently. But maybe he shouldn’t have. Maybe that was just Nick being naïve all over again. Because he knew something was wrong with Charlie from the very start of their night, Charlie’s attitude had been skewed since the beginning of the night – his attitude indignant when Nick first walked into his flat. Nick thought for a moment it was a simple as Charlie being jealous that Nick had brought Amaya, the same way Nick would’ve felt if Charlie had brought Manny. But his heart knew better. His heart knew there was more to it than simple jealousy. His heart, the same one that feels all too tethered to Charlie’s knew that Charlie’s was aching with a pain that ran much deeper than envy for an ex-lover. The whole night Nick tried prying it out of him, in hopes that maybe it wasn’t this. Maybe it wasn’t Nick’s very presence in Charlie’s life that brought him to such anguish.

And then that look in Charlie’s face when they met eyes across the bar during that final song they were there for told him exactly what his heart had been trying to tell him all night. It was a look filled with so much despair, so much despondency, and Nick just knew it in his ribs that he was the reason why. He knew he’d been the cause.

Maybe he didn’t need to follow Charlie out into the rain. Maybe he didn’t need to match Charlie’s confession with one of his own. But he can’t imagine having just let him leave like that. And then say the things he said and think that Nick didn’t – doesn’t – care for him in the very same way. He just couldn’t. No fiber of his being would allow him to.

He thinks about it all until he’s crying.

Nick’s never felt so hopeless. Not even with Thomas and the video did Nick feel at such a loss. The solution to that problem seemed simple compared to this one. Even if he made the wrong decisions then, he decided something. Now, he has no idea what to do. What’s right and what’s wrong. Maybe he should do nothing, and let timing do whatever it needs to. But to put his and Charlie’s fate in the hands of time doesn’t seem right either. He thinks of them never speaking again, and the sob escapes him involuntarily.

Nick throws his head back in anguish.

What the fuck do I do? He asks the universe. She seems to always have all the answers.

This time though, there’s nothing on the other end. There’s silence. And Nick thinks about how the universe only ever gives him the answers he never asks the questions to. But when he needs it the most, the universe pretends not to hear him.

He cries in the shower until he can’t seem to cry anymore. Until his body physically can’t produce anymore tears. Nick can’t remember the last time he’s cried this much. Maybe he’s never felt such an abundance of misery.

He flops down on his bed feeling drained after his shower. There’s no better way to describe it – Nick feels drained of all his energy, of all his emotions. He feels hallow and like a shelf of himself. He’d usually never go to bed with his hair still wet, hating the feeling of a wet pillowcase, but tonight that seems like the dumbest worry to have. So, he doesn’t have it. He just lays down and begs for sleep to come. He wants to escape his reality, find Charlie in another parallel universe, in another plane where a version of them that have been dealt much better cards exist. Maybe that version of them could’ve just met in form when they were still in secondary school – and so many of the horrible things that have happened to each of them wouldn’t have happened. And they’d just be happy.

He flutters his eyes closed to that thought, hoping it brings him the tranquility he so much craves. Just as Nick feels his body begin floating into an oasis of calmness, a realm outside his current state of reality, there’s an abrupt knock on his door.

Nick’s eyes fly wide open. He has no idea who could be knocking at such an ungodly hour. He thinks maybe it’s his drunk friends returning from their fun night out – the same one Nick wished he would have been returning from with them. But they all have keys, so it doesn’t make much sense. He checks his phone just to make sure – just to see if there are any texts indicating Nick’s assistance at the door from any of them. There’s no such thing. There are messages from Cristian and Sai asking why Nick left and telling him that the club is ‘raging’ but nothing else. Instinctively, Nick checks his own thread with Charlie. To see if maybe there’s a message waiting there for him that will clam the panic he feels of the state of their relationship. But there’s nothing. The last message is from hours ago, when they were talking about getting ready for the night ahead. He solemnly wonders if those are the last texts he’ll ever share with Charlie.

The thought is too much to endure.

Whoever is knocking, will have to stay there. It’s not like Nick to ignore such a thing, but he also thinks that if was anyone worthwhile, they would call or text too. He shuts his eyes again, wanting whoever is at the door to go away and sleep to visit him. He thinks he’ll have his wish granted, but then the knock comes again. This time harder and louder. Whoever is at his door is persistent, and he doesn’t think they’ll just go away if he ignores them – which is exasperating. It takes every bit of Nick to climb off his bed and go get the door. He groans as he stands, and he scowls as he walks to his door.

He swings the door open, and the expression on his face immediately transforms into something else entirely the moment he sees who’s standing on the other side of the door. It’s the last person he expected to see. Especially so soon after everything. But standing in front of his door, with a subdued expression on his face, a slight hunch in his shoulders is no one other than Charlie Spring.

His curls seem damp, and he’s wearing an oversized t-shirt and joggers which lets Nick know they’ve likely just shared similar routines since they arrived home. And they probably didn’t arrive home long after one another.

“Hi,” Charlie says.

“Hi,” Nick says back.

Charlie’s gaze flicks downwards, towards the floor, before they come back up to Nick’s, “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“You didn’t,” Nick says, though it’s only half of the truth. It doesn’t matter.

Charlie lets out a breath, something like a sigh, “I just – can we talk?”

Nick doesn’t know what else they could possibly talk about. They’ve said all there is to say. They’ve both revealed their true feelings to one another, and he can’t imagine talking any more about it will make it easier for either of them. There’s a reason it took them so long to confess, a reason they denied themselves for as long as they did. Nick knows they’re both fully aware of those reasons. And yet, as he thinks of saying this to Charlie, and turning him away, and it feels wrong. Like the worst decision he could ever make when it comes to this.

“Yeah, of course,” he says, “want to come in?”

Charlie gives him a meek nod. Nick opens the door wider and steps out of the way to make room for Charlie to enter comfortably.

Once Charlie steps inside, Nick shuts the door behind them, and they both stand in his doorway looking anywhere but at each other. Though Nick’s eyes stray, they always find their way right back to Charlie. He’s impossible not to look at when he’s standing so close.

When Charlie’s deep blue eyes meet Nick’s amber ones after avoiding them for an appropriate enough amount of time, Nick only has one thought.

Fuck, you are beautiful.

He knows that isn’t helpful, all things considered, but he can’t help the thought from forming anyway.

            “Maybe we should go to my room to talk,” Nick offers, realizing immediately once he has said it how suggestive it must sound, “just you know, in case the guys come and we’re just here talking about – well, I just imagine whatever we’re going to talk about we’d like to keep just between us. If you’re okay with that, obviously” he tries to clarify.

            One corner of Charlie’s mouth twitches.

            “Yeah, I’m okay with that.”

            “Okay,” Nick exhales, “just, um. Come this way.”

            He turns, and feels Charlie follow close behind him as they make their way through the flat to Nick’s room. It’s not very different from Charlie’s own layout in his flat, given they live in the same building.            When they reach Nick’s bedroom door, he opens it and gestures for Charlie to step in.

            Charlie does, his head slightly ducked as he enters. Nick closes his door and when he turns back to face Charlie, he sees him looking around. Taking in Nick’s room. It makes Nick feel subconscious about how he keeps his room. It isn’t anything out of the ordinary for a university athlete. His bed’s not made – because he was just lying in it and there’s some combination of unwashed and washed laundry laying around in certain corners. For the most part, Nick keeps it pretty tidy. He has rugby trophies adorned all over his dresser and some on his walls – a testament to the looming influence it’s had in Nick’s life for almost the entirety of it. On one of the far walls, next to his bathroom, is Nick’s desk with his computer and coursework laid over it. He goes to stand by it, knowing it might be slightly suggestive in an inappropriate way if he takes a seat on his bed.

            He puts his hands in his pockets as he watches Charlie’s curious eyes roam around the room. Charlie looks at Nick only for a moment as Nick looks at him, and then he turns his head. His attention caught by the trophies in Nick’s dresser. Charlie walks up to one of them, and without word, takes one of them into his hands. He holds it tentatively, like he’s testing the weight of it. Assessing the writing in the bottom. He puts it back down a moment later and Nick can feel his anxiety peaking the longer Charlie observes and doesn’t speak.

            Charlie turns to Nick, staying a reasonable distance as Nick leans against his computer desk and Charlie stands by his dresser.

            “You’ve got a lot of rugby trophies.”

            Nick tries to shrug, “I play a lot of rugby, I guess.”

            “You know, you never answered my question,” Charlie says.

            “Which question?” Nick asks, perplexed.

            “The one about whether or not you actually like rugby.”

            Nick remembers the question as if it was asked by Charlie yesterday, when really it feels like that was asked lifetimes ago. Everything before tonight feels like lifetimes ago. Like it exists in a completely other timeline apart from the one they’ve just entered.

            Nick blinks, “I guess I never answered because I… don’t have an answer. Since I’ve never had to think about it like that, I just… don’t know. Whether I keep playing because it’s just asked of me, or if I actually enjoy it, or if it’s a weird combination of both.”

            Charlie looks around Nick’s room again, “I would think that for something you’ve dedicated so much of your time to, sacrificed so much of yourself for, you’d have some sort of an idea as to why.”

            Charlie’s astuteness makes Nick quiver with inadequacy. There’s no part of what Charlie just said that makes no sense, but to Nick, it’s just never seemed to make a difference.

            “I guess I just never really had a choice, so I figured, ‘what does it matter what I think?’”

            He knows how terribly sorry that sounds. But he doesn’t see the point in trying to sell it as something else. Charlie has already seen all of him. He knows everything Nick’s never dared to say out loud before because tonight, he did just that. Him trying to conceal further truths about himself would just be them killing time at the cemetery. Pointless.

            Which is why Nick doesn’t understand why they’re just talking about rugby.

            He’s about to say as much, when Charlie’s eyes snap to his eyes. There’s something like determination stuck beneath the deep blue of those eyes of his that let Nick know that he’s going to push him to his limits.

            “Do you know,” Charlie takes a breath in, like he’s bracing himself, “for certainty how you feel about me?”

            The question almost knocks the wind out of Nick.

            “Yes. Without a doubt,” Nick manages to say, even if his voice sounds weak and small in comparison to the cosmic size of his feelings, “I meant every word of what I said to you tonight.”

            Charlie’s eyes don’t leave Nick’s as he walks towards him. Carefully, slowly. The weight of each step he takes heavy in the atmosphere around them. A part of Nick wants to reach a hand out, keep him at arm’s length because he doesn’t know what he’s capable of if Charlie gets that close knowing what they both know now. Another part of him, one that seems to be growing larger by the minute after their exchange of words tonight, wants to reach out and pull him right in. He knows that’s the push and pull Charlie mentioned tonight. Just like he knows he’s going to stay right where he is, right as he is, and do neither.

            “Me too,” Charlie whispers, when he’s close enough to Nick for him to be able to hear it.

            Nick doesn’t know what to say. He’s still as lost as he was before Charlie was standing in his room as he is now that he is. So, he doesn’t say or do anything. Instead he looks at Charlie like he’s preparing to draw him from memory. His eyes roam all of Charlie’s face, every dip and edge and structure. He ends up at his eyes, taking them in. Being pulled into that deep ocean that’s held in them. The waters are calmer than they’ve ever been, and Nick wonders where it comes from.

            “I want to propose something,” Charlie eventually speaks, “and I don’t know if you’ll agree or if you’ll completely turn it down, but I think I need to try anyway. Can I?”

            Nick doesn’t think he could ever say ‘no’ to anything Charlie was to ask of him. When it comes to Charlie, it’s like Nick forgets the reasons why he makes up rules to his life. They don’t matter. They don’t exist when Charlie’s around. He’d rewrite every rule if it meant that it fit Charlie into his life. Nick nods, not sure what his own voice would sound like if he used it.

            Charlie takes the cue for what it is.

            “What you said earlier about never having someone make you feel the way I make you feel – I understand that. Because I’ve never had someone made me feel the way you do either. And more than that, I’ve never felt this way about anyone in my life. I like you, Nick. In a colossal and all-consuming way that I’ve never known before you. And I’m not sure I’ll ever know if there is an after you.”

            Charlie takes a breath, and Nick does the same, the tides of emotion swirling inside him as Charlie continues.

            “So many times in my life I have watched myself let a moment pass me by or, worse, let a moment happen when I wanted it to pass me by. I don’t want this to be any of those kinds of moments. I want to take this moment, grab onto it with all ten of my fingers, and make it mine. Ours. Because I know that what we have is different than anything I’ve ever had with anyone else, and I think… for you too. And that has to count for something. It has to mean something. It can’t just be for nothing. I know that it isn’t that simple because of – well, you know the reasons. I suspect they’re the very same ones you’ve held back for as long as you have. But I truly don’t care for that anymore. I care for this far more. So, as Meredith gray of me this might be, all of that is why I’m asking is you to make a choice. And to have that choice be me.”

            Nick feels his heart gushing. Stab wounds everywhere from Charlie’s words. Not because they’re not everything he would like to hear from Charlie, but because they’re everything he can do nothing about. Because he wants Charlie more than he’s ever wanted anything in his life, but there are reasons why he has refused to let himself have him. Have them. And it isn’t for his own sake, but for Charlie’s.

            “I don’t want to hurt you,” Nick manages to get out.

            “So don’t.”

            “Charlie,” Nick tries not to groan out the frustration he feels culminating inside him, “you just said it yourself it’s not that simple. It’s complicated. Because of rugby, my dad – myself. I don’t want to drag you into that. You don’t deserve to be dragged into any of it.”

            “It doesn’t have to be that complicated, Nick,” Charlie argues, his eyes shining through the dim lightning of Nick’s room with that same determination Nick saw in them before, “I know that it is but maybe it doesn’t have to be. You’re already taking strides to becoming a more authentic version of yourself. I mean, for all intents and purposes, you basically came out to a room full of strangers tonight. I’m more than happy to be on this journey with you.”

            “That was barely me coming out,” Nick argues, “and I was freaking out about it anyway. And a room full of strangers is completely different than – everyone else. Charlie, I’ve done this before. I’ve been here before. You know that. And yes, it destroyed me but fuck me. It destroyed him too, and I can’t – I won’t let the same thing happen to you. You matter too much. So fucking much.”

            Nick doesn’t feel great about mentioning Thomas to Charlie and worse – drawing a comparison between the two of them. Especially when he knows that as much as Thomas meant to him, Charlie means so much more. But that doesn’t change the fact that there their situations are comparable. What he’s just told Charlie is the truth – he has been in this rodeo before. And he fell off the horse with a loud thud on the ground, his rib cage practically shattered, and injuries sustained that he’s still healing from. Thomas’ fall was career ending, and Nick didn’t even stick around to help him with the aftermath because of all the fears that still live in him. He would never be able to live with himself if he and Charlie suffered the same fate and he doesn’t see how they won’t. How they can’t.

            “Nick, you don’t have to remind me of your history. I know about your past, and I still want to be a part of your present and future. I still choose you. Because I think this is different, I think you’re different. I’ll take whatever comes from being with you if it means I just get to be with you.”

            Nick knows Charlie is fighting with all his might. He’s fighting against the current of the water they’ve been swimming in since they met. He admires him for it, as much as he’s not sure any of his valiance is worth it. He still thinks the current is stronger than any fight they can put up, and they’ll eventually drift. Or worse – drown.

            Nick doesn’t know how to tell Charlie that, just like he doesn’t know how to tell him the opposite of that. Those feelings that push and pull Charlie in rage inside Nick, and he doesn’t know which to do. Push or pull.

            Push. Or. Pull.

            And then he sees the moment the light in Charlie’s eyes dim. The moment his face falls. Nick’s silence is an answer to him, and the answer isn’t the one he was looking for. Charlie’s head drops, his gaze flicked downwards, and all Nick can make out is a feeble, “okay.”

            In that simple word, Nick sees the decrement of all their potential. He sees the devolution of them, the loss of everything they’ve been and everything they have yet to become. Parts of him necrotize and it’s like he’s on the verge of losing the only organ that keeps him walking and talking every day. And it is the most unbearable pain he has ever felt. It makes everything he’s ever gone through – all the hurt and all the affliction – laughable in comparison. Suddenly, nothing can be worse than this. Nothing can be as horrid or as trying or as unimaginable as losing Charlie and of losing what they can be. What they already are.

            And Nick makes a choice he didn’t think he’d ever make.

            “Wait,” he hears himself say.

            Charlie’s still so close, having only taken a couple of steps back. Their eyes stay locked in on one another and before Nick can let anything else stop him – including himself – he gives into it. The feeling. The emotion. The connection that has existed since he stumbled onto Charlie Spring’s existence several months ago.

            Oh, fuck it.

            As if they’ve both played this scene out plenty of times before, they crash into each other in perfect synchronicity. Nick’s hands fly to cusp at Charlie’s face, and Charlie’s hands find any bit of Nick they can cling onto. And as if it was their birth right, their lips meet for the first time, slotting together perfectly. The moment their lips touch, Nick sees fireworks behind his eyes. He feels bolts of electricity flicker across his skin and send signals to his brain that invoke a feeling of pure ecstasy. Earlier he’d drawn a comparison between Charlie and heroin. Now, he knows what a stupid comparison that was. Because Nick is sure there is no high out there, off any drug, that can compare to the one he feels when he hangs off the lips of Charlie Spring with his own. If moments in life were accompanied by animations, Nick is sure there would be sparks and stars dancing over their head as the moment is created.

Charlie’s gasp is so sweet as their mouths collide. And the sound is so delicious Nick wants to savor every last drop of it. He tries with his tongue, parting Charlie’s lips and allowing him full access into his mouth. Into that beautiful mouth that has spoken all of Nick’s favorite words. Has made all of Nick’s favorite sounds. Probably has so many more of those dream worthy sounds hidden that Nick has yet to hear. That Nick has been desperate to hear.

Kissing Charlie the way he wants, the way he’s held back from doing so many times before, feels like coming up for air after being sure you’d never know the feeling again.

From one moment to the next, things start moving at a pace Nick’s having trouble keeping up with. He blames it on Charlie taking up every single one of his senses, barb wiring himself around Nick’s soul. Coloring him entirely. Staining him with every single touch.

Charlie’s fingers skim the bottom of Nick’s shirt, gently tugging upwards. He pulls away, breaking their kiss, and Nick misses his mouth instantly. Feels like a part of him is gone. Charlie’s eyes ask a question his pink and glossy lips, slick with a mixture of both of their saliva, doesn’t. Nick gives him a small nod signaling a very loud yes that he can’t speak either.

Charlie tugs with a bit more force once he’s gotten the green light from Nick and Nick quickly puts his hands up to let Charlie do most of the work of removing his t-shirt. Charlie gets into a bit of trouble once he reaches Nick’s shoulder, so Nick helps him by pulling it off entirely in one quick and well-known motion. It leaves him naked from the waist up in front of Charlie. Something about it makes him nervous. Not because Nick is self-conscious about his body. He doesn’t think very highly when it comes to many things about himself, but he knows he works hard for the body he has, and he knows it’s a good one. He’s more nervous about just being physically this close to Charlie. Though the way Charlie’s eyes drink him in should tell him there’s nothing to be nervous about. Charlie’s hands glide from the firmness of Nick’s abdomen up to his muscular pecs, then down to his bulky arms. Nick can tell Charlie is a bit awestruck by his physique, but Nick is still entranced by Charlie’s face. He lifts a hand back to it, cupping Charlie’s jawline. Charlie’s eyes gaze backup towards Nick’s face, but Nick’s eyes are zoomed in to Charlie’s mouth. He uses his thumb to trace Charlie’s bottom lip, and then he tugs it ever so slightly with the same finger.

“Addicting,” Nick reminds him.

“Then come back,” Charlie tells him.

Nick doesn’t need to be told twice.

He connects their lips once again with the same force and passion as he did the first time. He feels so many chains come apart as they continue to kiss, and Nick knows that he will never be able to be locked again after this. No matter what happens, there are parts of him that Charlie has just discovered that Nick will never be able to get rid of.

One of Nick’s hands goes to Charlie’s hip, squeezing lightly and pulling Charlie flush against his own body. He wants to be as close to Charlie as possible. He wants his skin to melt into Charlie’s. But there’s a piece of fabric in between their chests, and Nick doesn’t understand why neither of them have taken off Charlie’s shirt yet. He starts undressing him without breaking their kiss, his finger hooking on the bottom of Charlie’s shirt and pulling upwards. His knuckles graze the soft skin of Charlie’s belly as he creates this motion, and that’s when he feels the muscles tense underneath his touch.

Nick realizes in that moment that perhaps the pace they’re taking things has outrun them.

He drops his hand back to Charlie’s hip and slows their kisses down until he can comfortably break away. Their chests rise and fall as they try to catch their breaths. Nick can’t think of anything better than losing all his air to kissing Charlie, but he also felt Charlie’s hesitation when he tried to take things a step further. The last thing Nick ever wants is to make Charlie feel uncomfortable. Or pressured into something he isn’t entirely ready for.

“Maybe we should slow down for a second,” Nick reluctantly suggests.

            Charlie’s look is one of disappointment personified, “wait – why? Are you… not into this?”

            It’s absurd to Nick that the thought would ever cross Charlie’s mind.

            Nick’s hand on Charlie’s face holds him with even more affection, his fingers getting lost in the hair in the nape of Charlie’s neck, “believe me when I tell you this is better than anything my imagination could’ve ever come up with. I don’t think I could be more into this than I already am. I just – I don’t want you to be uncomfortable or feel like we need to do anything you might not be ready for.”

            “I’m not,” Charlie says quickly, “uncomfortable. At all. I’ve wanted this for so long. I don’t want to stop.”

            Nick can’t tell if Charlie is putting on a show for him, performing so Nick doesn’t pull away permanently. Because he knows how Charlie stiffened underneath his touch moments ago when he tried to take off his shirt.

            “Char, I just felt you get a little tense when I pulled at your shirt. Which is okay, trust me. I don’t –”

            “It isn’t that I’m uncomfortable I just,” Charlie’s eyes leave Nick’s, going downcast, “I’m a bit self-conscious about my body.”

            Nick can feel his heart shrink at Charlie’s explanation.

            “I can understand that,” Nick tells him, and then he places a gentle hand on Charlie’s chin, silently willing him to look back up at him, “but if you’re worried about me, or what I’ll think – don’t be. I don’t think I’ve ever been more attracted to anyone in my life.”

            Charlie’s eyes eventually meet Nick’s silent request, going up to gaze into his. But there’s still sadness stuck inside them, despite Nick’s reassurances.

            “I have scars,” Charlie says.

            Nick isn’t entirely understanding.

            “Scars?”

            Charlie swallows, and gives Nick the faintest of nods, “from when I used to… hurt myself.”

            It comes together in Nick’s head like pieces fitting into a puzzle. And then Nick can clearly see an image of Charlie taking a blade to his skin, drawing blood to purposefully elicit pain. Probably doing such a thing to deal with other kinds of pain that he was experiencing. It’s more terrifying than any other horror film Nick has ever seen.

            “W – when?” Nick manages to ask.

            “Not recently,” Charlie admits, “not in a very long time, actually. And I know this isn’t very sexy to talk about so sorry for like, dumping this on you right now. I just didn’t want you to take off my shirt and see it and think I’m gross.”

            Charlie has no idea how he and the word ‘gross’ could never possibly exist in a singular thought in Nick’s head. But Nick has every intention of letting him know.

            “I would never think that of you. Ever,” Nick tells him with rigor, holding Charlie’s face in both of his hands, “and it doesn’t matter that this isn’t sexy. This matters. And it matters a lot because I care about you a lot.”

            Charlie’s eyes dance between Nick’s, darting back and forth, “I care about you a lot too. But I don’t want to stop. Please,” Charlie breathes, and then he’s leaning in closer, “don’t stop.”

            Nick doesn’t think it’d be fair to say no to that. He knows there’s a lot about Charlie he has yet to learn, and this is a conversation he intends to revisit so he can do just that. So he can learn more about all of the parts who make Charlie who he is. Because Nick doesn’t think there’s any part to Charlie he wouldn’t be intrigued by. He wouldn’t care for. That he would be okay to leave unturned. But he also can’t deny Charlie’s momentary request. Mainly because his mouth has already started to go cold without Charlie’s on his.

            So, he kisses him again. Reconnecting their mouths and feeling that warmth overcome him at the touch. He doesn’t reach for Charlie’s shirt again, but his hands roam everywhere. Every dip, every curvature of Charlie’s body. Nick maps it out with his hands, wanting to know the land like he was the one who created it. They keep kissing feverishly, and Nick feels himself grow rock hard in his joggers. And then Charlie’s own dick, just as hard, lightly grazes his through their clothes and Nick can’t help the groan that escapes his mouth and makes his way into Charlie’s.

            If Nick thought they were going at a fast before, they hit full throttle once that happens.

            Charlie lifts his own shirt over his head, discarding it somewhere on Nick’s floor. He barely gives Nick a chance to admire him, attacking his mouth with his own less than second later and bringing his body flush against Nick’s. The skin on skin makes Nick’s skin feel like it’ll burn off him with the sparks he feels at the connection. Charlie’s hands wrap around Nick’s neck and Nick’s arms wrap around the small frame of Charlie’s waist and Nick doesn’t think he could ever want anyone more than he does Charlie.

            Charlie guides them back towards Nick’s bed, and Nick has no idea how far either of them are willing to go, but he knows that he’ll do whatever Charlie wants. He’ll let Charlie be the one who decides. Because just as it’s always been, Nick will follow Charlie wherever he decides to take them.

            Charlie falls down on Nick’s bed, their tongues still writing scripture on one another’s as they do. Nick tries not to put his entire weight on Charlie as he falls down right on top of him, holding himself up with one arm while the other continues to touch Charlie’s body. It slides down from his cheek to his neck, down his torso. Nick feels like hell is cold in comparison to how hot his hand feels touching Charlie like this. He reaches Charlie’s joggers, and just as he tugs at the waistband, he pulls back just enough to make sure Charlie’s okay with what he intends to do next.

            “This okay?” he gets out, his voice low and gravely with unvirtuous desire.

            Charlie nods, “yes.”

            Nick takes his answer and makes good use of it. He dips his hand into the waistband of Charlie’s joggers and cups him over his briefs. Charlie moans immediately, and Nick instantly knows that the sound is going to play in a repetitive loop in his brain every second of every day and every night for the foreseeable future. He’ll hear it when he’s awake. He’ll hear it when he’s asleep. He’ll hear it when he’s in his weird state of in betweenness. It’ll engrave itself into his mind, and Nick is far more than okay with that.

            He rubs gently at Charlie’s shaft, wanting to hear more and more of those licentious sounds Charlie makes. Charlie’s dick feels good underneath his palm. He’s not extremely girthy, but he’s long, and Nick wants to see it full frontal. Up close and personal.

            He stops kissing Charlie’s mouth, which is barely able to kiss back with the little moans he’s letting out – all opened mouth and gasping for breath – and starts kissing across his jawline. He follows the same trail with his lips that his hands left behind until his mouth is also at the waist band of Charlie’s joggers. His hand is gone, but Nick is ready to replace it with something greater.

            He looks up at Charlie who is up on his forearms, looking down at him with hooded and eager eyes. He doesn’t need to ask the question, he knows the answer. But Nick always looks for verbal consent.

            “Can I?” he asks Charlie, knowing he doesn’t need to explicitly say what he’s asking for. He knows Charlie knows what he wants.

            He’s sure they want the same thing.

            “Please,” Charlie answers.

            Nick doesn’t need any more consent than that. He puts his hands underneath Charlie’s butt, pulling down his joggers and his briefs in one seamless movement. He throws them to the side, discarding them alongside wherever Charlie’s shirt might’ve gone.

            Charlie lays fully naked in front of him, and the sight is one that Nick thinks belongs in a place like The Louvre. He doubts there is any painting as impressionable as the sight before him currently there. Because Charlie is heavenly, his soft and milky skin fully exposed to Nick’s blessed eyes. His dick is as perfect up close as Nick felt it was in his hand, over clothes. It’s pristinely kept, trimmed. And Charlie’s uncircumcised head is so pink, leaking with Charlie’s own precum that makes Nick want to lick at and know the taste of.

            He doesn’t waste a second more to find out. He’s waited this long but he can’t wait any longer. He won’t. With the unwavering resolve to know what Charlie taste likes, Nick licks at the head of Charlie’s dick with delicacy at first. He hears Charlie moan above him, and the sound is more satisfying than anything else Nick has ever experienced in his life. More than any win of a rugby match he’s ever played. More than any point he’s every proven anyone wrong for. Nick wants to hear it endlessly. Just as much as he wants to continue tasting Charlie. He wants his tongue to remember his flavor, the saltiness mixed in with the hint of sweetness. A taste so Charlie Spring coded Nick could not imagine him tasting like anything other than it. Nick’s mouth could be graced with only this taste for the rest of his life, and it would be enough. It would keep him entirely satiated, unbothered at ever having any other flavor enter his mouth.

            He licks again, this time with a bit more tongue and a bit more pressure, bring ing more of Charlie’s taste into his mouth. Hoping it leaves a trace behind when it’s over. He feels Charlie squirm underneath him at the sensation, and then he hears a breathy plea for more.

            “Nick,” Charlie whimpers, “please.”

            Charlie doesn’t need to say more than those few simple words for Nick to know what he wants. Nick wants it too. He wants to take all of Charlie into his mouth, as deep as he can. He wants his mouth to be filled with Charlie’s dick and he wants to hear Charlie’s moans vibrate around his throat as he makes easy work of tearing him apart with it. But Nick’s also slightly out of practice. The part of him that plagues him with insecurity mocks him in the back of his mind. Reminds him he’s not nearly as experienced as he should be to give Charlie the pleasure he seeks. Charlie’s far more experienced in this department – he’s told Nick with his own words, but Nick’s seen it with his own eyes as well. And it’s making him feel severely underqualified. It’s making him doubt his own ability to bring Charlie to his climax.

            But then Charlie bucks his hips up in desperation and it brings about a new wave conviction over Nick. Maybe he’s a bit out of a practice, but he’s never had his mind so set on anything else as he does on making Charlie Spring come so hard he sees stars behind his eyes. He loses his orientation, and maybe a bit of his vision, when he does.

            With the few skills he picked up months back, Nick takes Charlie fully into his mouth. Charlie moans obscenely, loud enough for his roommates to hear if they were home. He’s suddenly very grateful that his friends are still out enjoying the night he was meant to be enjoying with them as well. Twenty-minutes ago, Nick was disappointed he didn’t get to. Now, he can’t think of having made a better decision of coming home early.

            He takes all of Charlie slowly, carefully. Savoring every inch of him he devours further and further. The pace in which he takes Charlie is for both of their sake’s, but he can feel as much as hear Charlie’s enjoyment of it. Nick places a gentle hand on one of Charlie’s hips, to keep him steady since he continues to squirm at the sensations Nick is making him feel. There is a sense of pride in that, that Nick can do that for him, that takes over every single feeling in his nerve endings.

            Nick goes as far as he can without embarrassingly choking on Charlie’s dick. It’s almost all of it, but there’s a bit of Charlie’s dick that doesn’t make it to the back of his throat, and he uses his other free hand to wrap around the bit of base that remains outside of Nick’s mouth. Once he comfortably feels all of Charlie filling his mouth, Nick starts to move his head up and down, at a much faster pace than when he first put his mouth on Charlie’s dick. His hand follows suit, matching the pace.

            He knows he’s thinking about it a little too meticulously. He’s focused on the mechanics of his movements. Making sure his hand and mouth aren’t out of synch. Making sure he curls his lips back as to avoid grazing Charlie’s dick with his teeth – he’s had enough head in his life to know how unpleasant that feels. He’s making sure his other hand is not entirely useless either, grazing Charlie’s hip bones tenderly, causing other sensations that might send him right over the edge. And he knows this homed in attention he has on his movements is taking away from the delicious and celestial sounds Charlie is making. But he wants this to be something Charlie replays in his own head when he’s alone. When Nick can’t be there to bring him pleasure. When Nick can’t be there to touch him. He wants Charlie to touch himself to this memory. To the memory of Nick sucking him off better than most people have ever done before him. The thought of Charlie doing that is enough to let the blood rush back into Nick’s dick, making the rock hardness he’d lost a bit of during his concentration return at full force.

            Nick’s eyes gaze upwards to see Charlie still on his elbows, but his head hanging fully backwards, like he’s struggling to keep it upright with the pleasure building up inside of him. Taking over him. Leaving him breathless and senseless.

            Nick is doing that.

            Seeing Charlie coming apart like Nick has dreamt of doing so many times before is motivation for him to keep going. To keep doing what he’s doing and in fact, do it even better. Bring even more pleasure to Charlie.

            Nick removes his hand from Charlie’s shaft and uses it to fondle his balls, and then, feeling newly determined, he takes the rest of Charlie’s dick that he hadn’t been able to previously, into his mouth. It’s the deepest he’s taken him since he started, and it hits the back of his throat with a force that almost makes Nick cough all over Charlie’s dick. But his dedication to making Charlie believe he’s as good at this as if he were practicing every day overtakes the sensation. And Nick moves his mouth again, coming up to the very tip of Charlie’s dick and taking him all the way in once more.

            At the movement, Charlie lets out an unearthly sound that Nick knows he’ll hear echoing in his mind for long after this is over. Nick wants to hear it again, just so he his memory could get it as close to reality as possible. So, he repeats the movement, one, two, three times until Charlie is moaning and panting heavily. Unable to help himself from bucking his own hips up to Nick’s mouth. Nick places both his hands on Charlie’s hips to keep him from fucking into his mouth at a pace Nick won’t be able to keep up with. He works him as best as he can with his mouth, knowing Charlie is close with the sounds he’s making and the way his legs begin to stiffen underneath him.

            Then, Charlie gives him verbal confirmation of what he was already suspecting.

            “Nick,” Charlie pants, his voice sounding absolutely wrecked which makes Nick groan in return around Charlie’s dick knowing he’s done this to him, “I’m very close.”

            Nick brings him even closer, picking up the pace of his mouth. Working with the wetness that his saliva has created. And a couple of seconds later, Charlie is unloading his spend into Nick’s mouth. The taste is as explosive as his orgasm feels going down Nick’s throat. It’s the same saltiness and sweetness Nick had tasted on Charlie’s pre-cum, but ten times more potent. It’s mouthwatering, even if just to him.

            He waits for Charlie to soften, for his breath to become more normal before he pulls his mouth off him entirely. He hears Charlie intake a sharp breath as the cool air hits his dick again, after being encompassed in the warmth of Nick’s mouth.

            Charlie looks down at Nick, his eyes bewildered. Nick has no idea what he must look like from this angle, but he’s sure his mouth is pink and wet, his pupils blown wide from the thrill pleasuring Charlie just provided him. He smiles up at Charlie.

            “Holy fuck,” Charlie whispers, and then he brings a hand up to Nick’s face. His index finger traces his lips, and Nick’s mouth is so sensitive that the touch sends goosebumps to form on his skin.

            “Your mouth,” Charlie says, his eyes tracing the movements of his fingers on Nick’s mouth.

            “What about it?” Nick asks, a bit smug.

            “It’s perfect,” Charlie says, clearly mesmerized from what’s just happened, making Nick feel wildly accomplished, “you didn’t have to swallow though.”

            “I enjoy everything about you, Charlie,” Nick tells him, meaning every word of it, “especially the way you taste.”

            “Oh my God,” Charlie groans, “are you real?”

            Nick laughs, and Charlie smiles down at him.

            Nick doesn’t care if this is as far as they go tonight. He’d be more than okay with it. But what he wouldn’t be okay with is not kissing Charlie again. He misses his mouth on Charlie’s the moment his mouth isn’t on any other part of him.

            Nick climbs up his body again, his eyes never leaving Charlie’s.

            Once he’s hovering over him, his arms keeping him up and from crushing Charlie, he asks, “can I kiss you?”

            “You don’t have ever have to ask me that.”

            Nick chuckles, “I’m asking because you just –”

            “I don’t care,” Charlie says vigorously, cutting Nick off and not allowing him another moment to answer him before his mouth is on Nick’s again.

            The feeling overcomes Nick quickly and all at once. And then Nick is hit with the realization that nothing, nothing, will ever feel as great and as right as kissing Charlie Spring. As much as he just enjoyed making Charlie come with his mouth, it doesn’t compare to the feeling of utter delirium he feels when his mouth connects with Charlie’s. The feeling is an indescribable one as their mouths explore one another, pouring out every emotion they’ve been drowning in into one another. It’s a feeling that makes Nick believe he was created for Charlie. That his mere existence is only about because of Charlie. And there’s something filthy and sexy about kissing Charlie right after he came in his mouth, just as much as there’s something oddly comforting about it.

            As the kiss depends, and Nick’s insides turn to Jell-O, Charlie finds a way to flip them so that he’s straddling Nick. Nick is suddenly grateful that he’s still wearing his joggers, unsure of how he’d react to Charlie’s bare butthole grazing his bare dick. He can barely handle Charlie moving his hips, causing friction on his hard dick through his clothes. He’s trying to keep his hips from bucking up into Charlie, unsure of what Charlie wants to do next – if there even is a next – and not wanting to impose.

            Just as Nick feels his control and constraint slipping, Charlie stops their kiss. Nick looks up at him, out of breath from the desire burning his lungs to dust.

            Charlie chest drops and falls at a similar rhythm. He gives Nick one small peck on the lips before he’s bringing himself off Nick. Nick’s confused by the sudden change, but okay to let the night end all the same if they’ve reached the outskirts of Charlie’s comfort zone. Nick would be willing to do anything and everything with him tonight if Charlie desired it but is completely okay if he doesn’t.

            When Charlie starts moving off the bed, Nick full expects him to pick up his clothes from the ground and start getting dressed. Nick moves to do the same, sitting upright on the bed. But he stops himself from getting to his feet when he sees Charlie reach for one of Nick’s pillows instead and place it on the ground, a few feet away from his bed.

            Nick quirks up a questioning brow. Charlie doesn’t answer with words. Instead, he maintains steady eye contact as he drops to his knees on the pillow.

            Nick’s mind spins, but it doesn’t come to a definite conclusion as to what Charlie’s actions mean.

            “Come here,” Charlie says, his voice low.

            Nick could never stand a chance not doing what Charlie’s told him to when he says it in that voice.

            He gets to his feet quickly, standing right in front of Charlie. He looks down at him, as Charlie looks up. His thick lashes make his beautiful eyes seem even more doe-eyed, even more captivating. He is heavenly in every angle, but Nick wants to make a movie out of him in just this one.

            “I want you to fuck my mouth,” Charlie says, breaking Nick’s thoughts.

            His lungs struggle to take in air, “w – what?”

            Charlie hooks a finger in the waistband of Nick’s joggers, “I’d like for you to fuck my mouth. Control the pace. The depth. Use me how you want me. Please.”

            Nick can’t think of any offer he’s ever been given than is better than the one Charlie’s just given him. He can’t imagine not taking it.

            “Fuck, Charlie,” Nick groans, “I want you to I just – don’t want to hurt you at all. You’ll tell me if it’s too much?”

            “Yes,” Charlie answers easily, “I’ll tap you three times on your thigh if it’s too much so you can slow down or pull out. But,” Charlie gives him a small smile that is absolutely wicked, “I don’t think it’ll be anything I can’t handle.”

            Nick feels his dick twitch inside his pants at Charlie’s words.

            He swallows thickly. Then gives Charlie a confirming nod.

            He removes Charlie’s finger from his waist band and takes a step back. Their eyes don’t leave one another’s at Nick pulls his pants and briefs down in one movement. He steps out of them, leaving himself fully exposed in front of Charlie. Charlie’s gaze leaves trails of burning flames as they make their way down Nick’s face, and his torse, until it lands on his dick. He’s grateful it’s at its most impressive, fully hard and leaking with his own precoma. Nick’s never been one to brag about his size. His dick is average when it comes to length. He’s sure Charlie has him beat in that department. But he knows it’s always impressed people when it comes to thickness. When it comes to girth, Nick has most people beat.

            He sees Charlie’s mouth open at the sight, like he’s watering at the mouth from just the look of it alone, and Nick can’t help but feel gratification over his reaction. He knows he’s not done much when it comes to this to feel such ownership over it – beside have decent genes. But it’s still nice that Charlie seems to appreciate it.

            He steps closer, still keeping enough distance between them that won’t have his dick poking into Charlie’s mouth before either of them are ready for it.

            Nick looks down at Charlie, who finally meets his eyes again.

            “How is every part of you literal perfection?” Charlie asks.

            Nick smiles but shakes his head, “I think you should be asking yourself that.”

            Nick brings a gentle hand to cup Charlie’s chin, tilting his head back slightly to get a full look of his beautiful face in this angle. It’s everything, and suddenly Nick wishes his eyes were lenses of a camera, able to capture the image so it’s never tainted by time and his unreliable memory.

            “Pure perfection,” Nick declares.

            “Wait till you see me with your dick in my mouth,” Charlie says.

            Nick almost chokes on air. Sputtering then laughing. Charlie joins him. And it’s easy and thoughtless, going from wanting to fuck Charlie’s brains out to sharing a laugh with him like the they’re the best of friends. Then again, it feels that way because they are that way. The combination of those things makes Nick fearful of never having anything as fulfilling as them again in his life.

            He doesn’t know how he’s going to prevent them from being pulverized by outside circumstances, but he’s never felt more willing to do everything in his power to try.

            “Charlie,” Nick says his name like it’s the holy word. It is to him.

            “I’m ready,” Charlie says in return, bringing his hands behind his back.

            Nick takes in the sight of him on his knees in front of Nick. Fully naked himself. Ready for Nick to do with him as he pleases. Fully trusting Nick to take care of him in the process. The look in Charlie’s eyes is subdued, and when Nick’s fingers trace his lips, he pries his mouth open without Nick needing to do much to get him to.

            Nick keeps his fingers on Charlie’s lips as he takes his dick into his other, free hand. He pumps it once, then again, though he doesn’t need to. He’s fully hard, leaking at his head. He takes a step closer and places his hand that’s on Charlie’s lips back to his chin. He pulls softly, silently asking Charlie to open his mouth just a little wider. Charlie complies with ease, his eyes never leaving Nick’s.

            Nick uses the hand on his dick to guide it into Charlie’s mouth. He does it slowly, just as slow as he’d first taken Charlie into his mouth moments prior. Charlie doesn’t stop looking at him through his eyelashes, and that coupled along with the sensation of Charlie wet and warm mouth coming around his dick is almost too much for Nick to bare.

Almost.

            He feels his knees go slightly weak as Charlie doesn’t even bat an eyelash as Nick’s dick disappears fully into his mouth. Inch by inch.

            Once he’s almost at the base, he asks, out of breath like he’s just finished an intense work out at the gym, “this okay?”

            Charlie hums around Nick’s dick and the feeling of the vibration throughout his dick is toe-curling. Nick can’t help the moan that escapes him from the feeling.

            “I’m going to fuck your mouth now,” Nick manages to get out.

            Charlie hums again, and Nick is sure he’s not going to last long. But even if it’s short, he wants to enjoy it to its fullest potential. He removes his hand from Charlie’s chin and brings it around his head, his fingers curling gently into Charlie’s curls. He starts thrusting his hips, slowly with very little force. Just enough to bring movement. To make his dick disappear into Charlie’s mouth and then reappear again.

            Nick’s fucked other people’s mouths before. But no one’s ever looked like Charlie does when he’s done it. Charlie looks like he’s enjoying it as much as Nick, his eyes fluttering closed, his throat creating sounds of small moans and whimpers of pure desire and ecstasy. When Nick takes a peek at Charlie’s own dick, he’s not surprised to see it filling up again. He’s not as hard as he was when Nick sucked him off, but he’s half-way there. Charlie enjoying this as much as Nick is only makes Nick enjoy it more.

            He picks up the pace of his thrusts, his own moans and groans filling the space of his room that is otherwise occupied by silence. He curls his fingers a bit tighter around Charlie’s hair –  his hair that feels so soft underneath the palm of his hands and the ridges of his fingertips – and moves his head in the same rhythm as he’s moving his hips. At one point he brings himself fully into Charlie’s mouth and stays there, feeling Charlie’s nose touch the pubic hair right above his pelvic bone. Charlie’s eyes water as Nick enjoys the feeling of having his dick fully inside Charlie, but he doesn’t tap Nick’s thigh thrice to let him know it’s too much. Instead, he wraps a hand around his own dick and jerks himself lazily, like this is getting him off as much as it is Nick. And that alone is enough to bring Nick at the edge of his own orgasms. He chases it with speed and force after that, fucking into Charlie’s mouth with all the pent-up frustration he’s felt from having to hold back from doing this earlier. From having Charlie like this since the moment they met.

            He feels the pressure build in his abdomen. The rush of blood going straight to his dick. He feels his muscles tense, his knees buckle. And he knows he’s seconds away from experiencing one of the best orgasms of his life.

            “Fuck, Charlie,” Nick groans, “I’m coming.”

            Nick’s not sure if Charlie would be as okay with Nick coming in his mouth as he was letting Charlie come in his. So, he pulls off just as he climaxes. But Nick isn’t quick enough to capture it all in his hand, so a lot of it goes on Charlie’s face and even lands on his hair. Nick is apologetic for it, but he’d feel far worse about it if Charlie didn’t look like everything out of his wildest fantasies naked and on his knees, with Nick’s come all over him.

            Nick tries to catch his breath and keep himself from collapsing at the fierceness of his orgasm. He closes his eyes as he breathes through it. He hasn’t come that hard in a very, very long time.

            When he opens his eyes to apologize to Charlie, he sees Charlie smiling up at him. Seeming extremely satisfied from the situation. He picks some of Nick’s spend from his cheek and bring is into his mouth, licking at his thumb and devouring Nick’s come like it’s the greatest tasting thing. The sight of Charlie doing that is the final blow. Nick’s knees can no longer withstand the weight of him. So, he falls to his knees right in front of Charlie.

            “Holy shit,” Nick breaths, one corner of his mouth lifting as he sits face to face with Charlie, “that was – that was everything. I’m sorry I got come all over you, I just didn’t know if it’d be okay to come inside your mouth and I –”

            “Don’t apologize,” Charlie tells him, a small smile on his own beautiful, pink, and thoroughly fucked out mouth, “you could’ve. Easily. You taste great. But thank you for being considerate.”

            “Selfishly, I think I enjoy looking at you with my come all over you just as much as I would’ve enjoyed coming in your mouth,” Nick admits.

            Charlie’s smile widens, and his dimples peek out on both sides of his cheek, “then I’ll let you decide from now on where you come. My mouth or my face.”

            Fucking hell.

            Nick is doomed.

            “Fuck, Char,” is all Nick can think to say before he pulls Charlie in for a kiss with one hand behind his neck.

            The kiss isn’t as filled with as much heat as their other kisses throughout the night have been. This one is gentler, caressed with a sweetness and affection that lives inside Nick. Perfectly reserved for Charlie.

            When Nick pulls away from the kiss, he brings both of his hands to hold Charlie’s face. He thinks there’s something important Charlie needs to know.

            “I hope you know that absolutely nothing like this needed to happen tonight,” Nick tells him, holding his stare as he says it so Charlie soaks in his words for the truth that they are, “and I’d be just as happy because you’re here. And we’re – well. We’re here.”

            Charlie gives him a soft smile that sends bullets through Nick’s rib cage, straight to his heart.

            “I know,” Charlie tells him, “but I’m happy this happened. I’ve not only been dreaming about it since we met.”

            Nick lets out a laugh, “since we met? That long?”

            “Oh please,” Charlie says, “as if you don’t know how fucking attractive you are.”

            “Eh,” Nick shrugs, “I’m alright.”

            “Yeah, okay,” Charlie rolls his eyes affectionately, “I’m not going to feed your ego even more, but you know.”

            “Okay well,” Nick’s eyes move from Charlie’s eyes to his mouth, “so are you. So, the sentiment is shared. Has been shared.”

            He places a soft kiss on Charlie’s mouth, because no number of times he does it seems to be enough.

            When Nick pulls away, he examines Charlie closely. Not just the glint in his eyes, or the glow his skin seems to have absorbed from the night’s events, but Nick’s come that is still stuck on his cheeks and forehead, and coating parts of his hair. It’s beginning to dry, and Nick thinks they should wash it off before it fully does.

            Nick puts a hand up to Charlie’s cheek, “you should probably wash up before it dries and becomes harder to scrub off.”

            Charlie laughs lowly, “probably.”

            “Do you want to wash up here? I can give you a pair of briefs to put on before you go home,” Nick offers, not ready yet to no longer be in Charlie’s company.

            Charlie nods, “I’d love to shower with you.”

            Nick hadn’t really thought of them showering together, just letting Charlie shower in his bedroom so he didn’t have to go so soon. But he likes Charlie’s idea better. They could both use a shower anyway.

            “Let’s do it.”

            Nick feels recovered enough to be able to get up on his feet without wavering. He does so and puts a handout to Charlie to help him get to his own feet. Once they’re both up, Nick feels an overwhelming desire to hug Charlie. To wrap his arms around him and engulf him in his embrace. To bring their skins together once more, forging a sense of ‘one’ between the two of them. This time, there’s nothing sexual in nature about it. It’s just a want to be close to Charlie.

            So, he does just that. He wraps Charlie in his arms and brings their bodies as close to one another as possible. Being this close to Charlie with no layers in between them is somewhat arousing, even if Nick doesn’t do it for that reason. But beyond that, it’s abating. Alleviating of any stresses or hardships either of them have endured. Might endure. The feeling of being that physically connected to Charlie, bridging the gap between their emotional connection, is worth anything that might get thrown their way.

            Charlie holds Nick just as closely in return, and Nick wonders if he’s thinking the same thing. Feeling the same thing. He’s not entirely sure, but he thinks he is. Even if neither of them will say it out loud. Some things do not need to be spoken to be understood.

            They release one another a moment later, and Nick takes Charlie’s hand as he leads him to his bathroom. There, Nick lets go of Charlie’s hand only to run the water. When he turns, he finds Charlie standing in the middle of Nick’s bathroom, his hands crossed over his torso like he’s trying to conceal himself from Nick’s eyes. It seems that without the sexual undertone, Charlie has even less confidence than he did before to stand fully bare in front of Nick. What he doesn’t seem to understand is that Nick’s never laid his eyes on anything or anyone else more beautiful than a fully exposed Charlie Spring.

            But he doesn’t want to tell Charlie with his words. He wants to show him with his actions.

            “Do you like your water warmer or colder?” Nick asks him.

            “Warmer, usually,” Charlie answers, his arms still over his torso. His eyes not quite meeting Nick’s for longer than a couple of beats.

            “Same,” Nick smiles at him, “I think it’s ready. Come in.”

            Nick opens his bathroom curtains for Charlie to step in first. Charlie walks over and steps in. Nick steps in right after him.

            Charlie stands underneath the water, his back to Nick as he lets the water roll off his skin and soak his hair. Nick comes up directly behind him, some of the water hitting him as he places his hands on Charlie’s hip bones. He hears Charlie sigh at the touch, like it’s one that brings him a feeling of euphoria he can’t live without. As Nick watches the droplets of water hit Charlie’s skin, he feels the urge to trace their path with his mouth. He realizes as the thought forms in his mind that he can now. That he doesn’t need to stop himself from fulfilling his wants from Charlie anymore. They’ve crossed that bridge already.

            Nick presses a soft kiss to Charlie’s shoulder. And then another, and then another. He kisses all the way up to the nape of Charlie’s neck.

            “That feels good,” Charlie says.

            “Hmm, does it?” Nick asks, a playfulness in his tone as he pulls away slightly to grab some of his shampoo to wash Charlie’s hair for him. It isn’t an ask of Charlie’s, but yet again just another want of Nick’s.

            Charlie shoots him a smile over his shoulder, “cocky now, are we?”

            Nick chuckles as he squirts some of his shampoo into his hands. He rubs them together to lather them up and when he returns to stand directly behind Charlie, he uses one hand to slightly push Charlie away from standing directly underneath his showerhead. Charlie obliges with ease, but before he can ask Nick what he’s doing, Nick places both hands on Charlie’s head and starts moving his hands in a circular motion, working the shampoo through his hair.

            He hears Charlie gasps, and then giggle. Out of all the sounds that he’s heard come from Charlie’s mouth tonight, his giggle is still one of his favorites.

            “Wow,” Charlie says, as Nick washes his hair for him, “do all the ladies and boys who suck your dick get this kind of treatment?”

            “Only the special ones.”

            “Ah,” Charlie says, and Nick knows from his tone that he didn’t say the right thing.

            “So,” Nick prepares himself to add, “only you.”

            “I doubt that.”

            “Don’t,” Nick places a kiss on Charlie’s other shoulder, and then gently pushes him towards the showerhead again.

            Nick watches as Charlie rinses off the shampoo from his head, still in awe of how gorgeous he is and how Nick now gets to openly admire his beauty. Like he’s always wanted to. Like he never has been able to until now.

            “Do you usually shampoo twice?” Nick asks him.

            “Don’t take this offensively,” Charlie says, “but because my hair is curly and yours is pin straight, I’d rather not wash my hair again with your shampoo.”

            “Oi, what’s wrong with my shampoo?”

            Charlie giggles, “nothing! It’s just curly haired people need to use specific products to keep their hair from looking absolutely insane. That’s all I’m saying.”

            Nick sighs like he’s exasperated, but it’s all good-natured, “just conditioner then?”

            “Yes, please,” Charlie says sweetly.

            Nick does the same with the conditioner as he’d done with the shampoo, this time adding a couple of kisses to Charlie’s cheeks in the process. It causes Charlie to smile wide and true, and his reaction only makes Nick want to do it over and over and over again.

As Charlie washes off the conditioner, Nick grabs his loofah and squirts his body wash on it, getting ready to scrub Charlie’s body for him just like he’s washed his hair. Just as he goes to do it, it dawns on him that what he said to Charlie is true. He’s never quite pampered anyone the way he is Charlie just now. And that’s likely because he’s never wanted to. He’s never felt as compelled to. He's had shower sex before, with Amaya and other girls, plenty of times. But it was always just that. Another setting, another place, to have sex. To get off. Never did he care to wash their bodies for them, simply just to have the luxury of touching them. Even with Thomas, where their intimacy was more of just that – intimate – did he ever want to do what he’s doing with Charlie. There’s just something about Charlie that makes Nick want to take care of him. Envelope him in affection and adoration in a way he’s never wanted to do for anyone else. He’s grateful he doesn’t need to hold back from doing so anymore. Even though, Nick has entirely neglected his own washing up to do Charlie’s for him, he doesn’t care. He welcomes it.

He comes up behind Charlie and starts scrubbing his shoulders first. Charlie takes a couple of steps back from the showerhead to let Nick do the work for him and not let the soap wash off preemptively. Nick scrubs away at Charlie’s skin with pristine carefulness, like he’s delicate under his touch and too much pressure will shatter him. He works on his way down his shoulders to his back. He carefully passes through Charlie’s butt, not feeling quite brave enough nor bold enough to make a move he’s not sure either of them are ready for. Though Nick is ready for quite literally anything with Charlie – perhaps that should wait for another day.

Nick moves to Charlie’s front, lathering him up with all the bubbles Nick’s body wash has created on Charlie’s body. As Nick works his way through Charlie’s groin area, the back of Nick’s hand grazes Charlie’s dick and Nick doesn’t miss the way Charlie’s almost completely hard again. He can’t deny that his own dick has started to twitch since he’s begun washing Charlie, his hands roaming every single crevice of his body. His body that Nick is insanely attracted to. It’s surprising only because Nick usually needs more than ten or fifteen minutes to fully recover and go again. But everything when it comes to Charlie seems to be the exception, not the rule. Or maybe Charlie just helps Nick create a new set of rules. Like the ones he’s carefully crafted throughout the years have never mattered.

Against Charlie Springs nothing stands a chance.

As if they’re both perfectly in-tune with each other’s bodies, Charlie moves backwards enough, and Nick moves forward enough so that Charlie’s back is flush against Nick’s chest. Nick’s dick lays flat against the small of Charlie’s back, the very base of it touching the crack of his butt. If Nick bent down slightly, his dick would slide right in between Charlie’s cheeks, giving way to a new sensation for them both. It’d be like a gateway drug to when they ever get around to the real thing. But Nick is too preoccupied in the rapid change in Charlie’s breathing. His hand over Charlie’s chest lets him feel exactly the rise and fall of it.

It's intoxicating making Charlie feel this type of pleasure. The kind of intoxication that can easily become addicting. Tonight is the first time they’ve done anything like this, and Nick is already ready to go it again.

He drops the loofah to Charlie’s feet and using the lubrication of the suds of the body wash, he wraps a careful hand around Charlie’s dick. The way Charlie sighs at the touch is enough to keep Nick going. He slowly moves his hand up Charlie’s dick, and then down. Slowly working him up. Charlie’s whimpers can be heard over the showerhead and Nick nibbles at his earlobes in response to those sounds. Seemingly wanting to give Nick better access, Charlie’s head lolls back to land on Nick’s shoulder. He tilts it to the side. Silently he makes a request. Silently, Nick goes to meet that request.

He kisses down Charlie’s neck, leaving light pecks as he makes his way to his shoulder. All the while, Nick doesn’t stop jerking Charlie off at just the right pace to make Charlie squirm underneath him. Charlie’s hips meet Nick’s pace, causing the majority of Nick’s dick to slip between Charlie’s ass cheeks. The friction causes Nick to moan into Charlie’s shoulder, biting down as if that would be enough to satiate him of Charlie. He doesn’t think anything is enough. He doesn’t even know how his body is able to keep up with his emotions, but he guesses it’s just another one of those things Charlie Spring can bring out of him that no one else can.

Their moans blend together as Charlie thrusts into Nick’s hand and Nick enjoys his dick slipping in and out of Charlie’s butt cheeks. He’s so caught up in it, he doesn’t notice immediately when Charlie brings a hand around to pull Nick even closer by the back of his neck the scars right on the underside of his arm. It’s only when Nick goes to reach his other hand around Charlie to pinch his nipples that he does notice them.

The overwhelming desire to protect him, to shower Charlie with as much admiration as possible overcomes Nick all over again. And then he does something he’s not sure he should do but can’t help but do. He kisses the underside of Charlie’s arms where his scars are.

Charlie’s gasp is so loud is reverberates off Nick’s shower walls.

Nick pulls away just enough to ask, “is this okay?”

Charlie doesn’t answer right away, but he doesn’t stop thrusting into Nick’s hand either.

“Y—yeah. I just didn’t – I didn’t expect it,” Charlie says, his voice barely above a whisper like he’s too scared to speak the words louder.

Nick kisses his scars again, “you’re beautiful, Charlie. The most gorgeous human I’ve ever seen.”

Nick doesn’t think words will suffice, so he shows Charlie that he means it. He brings his hand around and pinches one of Charlie’s nipples in between his index finger and his thumb. He does it gently, and Charlie cries out. It’s enough to let Nick jerk him a bit faster, flicking his wrist just so at the top of Charlie’s head. He kisses every bit of skin he can get his lips on too. Charlie’s scars, then his shoulder again. Then Nick is biting down on Charlie’s neck as Charlie writhes beneath him. All over him. Causing just the perfect amount of friction for Nick to get close too. And just as Charlie tips over the edge with a loud yell, Nick makes sure to catch most of it with his hand. Nick meets him there a moment later, panting right into Charlie’s neck, and unloading himself on Charlie’s back.

They both don’t move or speak for a couple of minutes after, letting their bodies come down from their mutual highs. Letting their minds make sense of it too.

“Wow,” Charlie breathes, his breath finally evening out, but his head still rested on Nick’s shoulders with his eyes shut, “I didn’t think it would be even better the second time.”

Nick laughs into his neck, “I didn’t even think there would be a second time so soon.”

“Well, I can tell you this much,” Charlie turns his head so he’s looking at Nick, “there can’t be a third in, at least, the next three hours. I am officially drained from coming.”

Nick laughs again, this time Charlie laughs with him.

“I’m with you there,” Nick tells him, “Let’s actually wash up this time.”

“I don’t think I have the energy for even that.”

Nick places a quick kiss to Charlie’s lips, “then let me.”

Charlie doesn’t move as Nick detangles himself from Charlie to pick the loofah up and lather it once more with body wash. Nick washes Charlie’s body and his as quickly as he can with the little bit of energy he has left. Charlie lets him with little movement of his own, his energy clearly gone from their second round. They share lazy kisses as the water gets rid of the soap on their skin. And then even more once they’re out of the shower, drying themselves with Nick’s towel. It’s really Nick who dries them both, and Charlie that stands there watching him. Like he’s both in awe of Nick but also simply too exhausted to move. Nick doesn’t mind doing all the work. The night has taught him many things, and one of them is that he thoroughly enjoys taking care of Charlie.

He gives Charlie a clean pair of briefs and puts his own pair on as well. His briefs fit him snugly, but fit Charlie looser. Fitting him more like boxers than actual briefs. They share a laugh over it before Nick leads them to his bed, Charlie’s hand in his.

They lay down and turn, facing one another. Nick brings a gentle hand up to comb through Charlie’s damp curls. He feels exhausted, but blissful. And only one of those things is the last thing he expected to feel for a long time after their argument outside of the club. Nick didn’t picture their night going like this and yet – he doesn’t know how he would’ve survived if it hadn’t. There are thoughts, tornado warnings, roaming in the far back of Nick’s mind over the territory they’ve just entered. Something about it tries to remind him why he’s stayed away from it for so long. Why it’s dangerous. But the beating of his heart, the feeling in his rib cage, tells him this is the only path to take. That this is right, even if so many things can go wrong.

Nick decides to listen to the sound of his beating heart for once.

Charlie places his hands underneath his head as he looks at Nick. His eyes seem deeper somehow, new emotions swimming in them that Nick has yet to decode.

“You kissed my scars,” he whispers in the small space between them.

Nick caresses Charlie’s cheek with his thumb, the rest of his fingers scratching the side of Charlie’s head, “I did.”

“I didn’t think you’d seen them.”

In truth, Nick hadn’t. He doesn’t know if he was too caught up in the moment during their first round, too engulfed by the feeling of touching Charlie in all the ways he’s been dreaming about for the first time, to notice much of anything. But in the stillness of the shower, in the confinement of the space, he’d seen it. In a moment of vulnerability between the two of them, he’d seen the raise bumps on Charlie’s skin where Charlie used to take a blade. And the only thought Nick had was to try and take away whatever pain might’ve caused those scars to appear with his devotion to Charlie.

“I hadn’t until we got in the shower,” Nick admits, “but seeing them didn’t make me think anything negative about you. Or the way you look.”

“I mean, it’s okay if it did. It’s not something that’s like, attractive.”

“Charlie, I like every part of you. Everything that makes up who you are. That’s why I kissed them,” Nick says earnestly, “I wanted to show you that.”

When Charlie doesn’t say anything in return right away, Nick feels silly. Like the idea and notion only made sense in his head.

“Sorry, I think that only made sense in my head,” he says out loud, “I guess –”

And then Charlie doesn’t let him finish.

“You told me I apologize too much, and now you’ve suddenly picked up the habit.”

Nick shuts his mouth. Then smiles.

“Shut up,” Nick says, his cheeks coloring pink over his embarrassment at Charlie’s observation, “I was just trying to explain –“

“I know,” Charlie interrupts once again, “but I got it when you did it. And so you know, it’s the least I’ve ever hated any of my scars. So,” Charlie’s eyes look down momentarily before meeting Nick’s again, “thank you.”

“I’ll kiss every single one of your scars, then.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to.”

A moment of silence forms between them, and Nick feels that pulsing desire to kiss him again. It’s strong, and what’s even stronger is the knowing that he can. That now his hands don’t have to tremble from holding himself from giving into yearning. Into that longing. Nick doesn’t have to silently pine anymore. He can actually do something about the way he feels.

Nick scoots in closer, just enough to be able to touch his lips to Charlie’s without overstraining his neck. They kiss slowly, with light pressure. Unlike their other kisses during the night, this one holds a different kind of passion. Not one filled with lust, or a specific destination. But one that just suspends through time.

Nick pulls away to catch his breath, but just before he creates enough distance between them to carry a conversation, he lightly pecks Charlie’s lips once more.

When he lays his head back on his pillow, he finds Charlie smiling at him. Nick smiles back.

He hasn’t felt as light as he does laying down with Charlie like this in years.

There’s a question hanging on Nick’s tongue though. He knows asking it would dampen the mood. But he knows not asking it will be worse. It will fester, and he doesn’t want to let anything between him and Charlie fester anymore.

“Can I ask you a personal question?” Nick dares to speak.

Charlie lets out a breathy laugh, “I don’t think you could ask me anything that would surpass how personal we’ve been tonight.”

Nick laughs lightly, “Good point.”

“So, ask me,” Charlie tells him.

“How did you – well, not how. But – why did you start… cutting yourself?” Nick asks the question as conscientiously as he can. His voice remains low-pitched, each of the words he picked to ask deliberately thought of before being spoken. He knows it isn’t a question that, no matter how spoken, would bring about happy memories for Charlie. So, he’s not surprised when Charlie’s smile falters. When there’s a shift in the look in his eyes. One that feels far more sorrowful than the last.

Charlie takes a deep breath in, and exhales with the same force.

“It was a long time ago,” Charlie explains, his voice small, “do you remember when I told you about how I was outed? And then bullied?”

Nick does. It was the same night Nick told Charlie a certain truth about himself. They’d been too focused on Nick’s own turmoil to delve into Charlie’s past. But now that Nick’s gotten to know Charlie in a different way. Deeper. More meaningful. He can’t imagine not knowing this about him. About his story.

He nods, silently. Hoping Charlie will tell him more.

“Well, it kind of started then. Not the cutting. But the pain,” Charlie says, and Nick’s heart feels stuck in his throat, “it just kind of became a lot really fast. I wasn’t used to attention. Much less negative attention.”

“What would people do?” Nick asks, scared of the response but wanting to know nonetheless. Wanting to understand Charlie. Nick’s mom has always told him someone’s past can always explain their present. And Nick has never wanted to know the details of who someone is more than he wants to know Charlie.

“Just – you know. Be cruel. Vile. Say things that most people shouldn’t say to other people,” Charlie says, “It was like the moment they found out something about me was unlike things about them, they forgot I was human.”

“That sounds horrible,” Nick says, his heart aching at the thought of people being cruel to Charlie. He doesn’t know how anyone could be.

“It was,” Charlie confirms, “but it wasn’t the worst of it. It’s just where the pain started. And me not exactly knowing how to deal with it.”

Nick gives Charlie a moment to collect himself. He knows he’s gathering his thoughts, getting ready to answer Nick’s initial question. He prefers that Charlie does it this way. Gives him the full story. All the details that led to some of the worst kind of pains for Charlie, and the worst kinds of coping mechanisms.

“Then came Ben,” Charlie eventually speaks again. Nick doesn’t ask who Ben is, knowing Charlie is about to tell him. But upon hearing the name, though it’s the first time he’s ever heard it, he doesn’t think it’s the first time Charlie’s told him about this person. Not by name, but by nature. By circumstance.

“It was like he could smell the sadness that started to live in me daily,” Charlie says, and then he lets out a sad laugh, like he’s remembering something that isn’t humorous but pathetic, “And he liked that, because it meant he could control me more easily. He thought it made me weak. In a way, he was right.”

Nick’s mind connects the dotted lines. Drawing the bridge between this conversation and an earlier one he had with Charlie. About relationships. About the one person he’d ever had that he’d consider himself to be in a relationship with. He remembers Charlie telling him that once he looked back on it, he realized it could never have truly been that given the nature of it.

“That’s the massive knob you told me about once in the library, isn’t it?”

Charlie gives a small laugh, this time – one that isn’t laced with sadness.

“Yes. Him.”

“You said he used to manipulate you. Would touch you in private and ignore you in public.”

“Yes,” Charlie says, “he did exactly that. When we started seeing each other, it was because he approached me. He didn’t want to come out, but he wanted to be with a boy. He picked me because I was his only safe option. But his mind games became too much to keep up with. He would make me feel like I mattered, and then make me feel like I was invisible. Like I was worthless. It was confusing. And painful. But I didn’t want to leave him for the small moments where he’d actually make me feel good. So, to deal with the bad I’d – I’d cut myself. For a quick escape.”

Nick imagines the push and pull Charlie must’ve continuously felt with Ben. How much that must’ve messed with his mind, and his self-esteem, when he was already at a very low point in his life. And he hates Ben for it. He hates a stranger for causing that kind of pain to one of the best people he’s ever known. And then it hits him suddenly. That Nick has, whether by subconsciously or not, been doing the same thing. And he feels an overwhelming amount of guilt. His heart explodes in his own throat.

“Charlie,” he’s able to say, “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

“Nick, this happened a long time ago. And long before I met you. Seriously, stop apologizing –”

“No, I’m sorry because,” Nick takes a shaky breath in, “because I feel like I’ve done the exact same thing. Up until now, I’ve pushed you away from me and pulled you right in. You told me so yourself tonight.”

“Nick,” Charlie places a hand on Nick’s face, gentle but steady, “it’s not the same. You’ve had your own difficulties. Your own internal battles that you’ve been dealing with. But you are nothing like Ben. And this – this is nothing like what that was.”

Nick’s not sure Charlie is right. He wants to believe it more than anything, but the part of him that doubts himself makes it out to be a lie in his head. Something that can’t possibly be true. The situations are too similar. Nick’s behavior to alike to this stranger that never deserved Charlie.

Maybe Nick doesn’t either.

“I promise,” Charlie tells him, “I promise that you and this are entirely different.”

“I want it to be,” Nick says, because although he’s not sure it is, that much is true, “more than anything.”

“It is. Believe me. Ben was cruel. And he used me for his own selfish reasons. You stayed away from me as long as you did selflessly, not selfishly.”

When Charlie speaks of it like that, Nick is inclined to believe him. And more than Charlie’s own words, is Nick’s beating heart that bleeds Charlie into his very being. It is that feeling that has encompassed him since he ever saw Charlie that lets him know that he is different from Ben. Even if just slightly. What Nick knows is entirely different, is what they have. Because it’s different from anything Nick’s ever had with anyone else. Because Nick cares for Charlie in ways he’s never cared for anyone else.

“I care so much about you,” Nick confesses, “so much. And I wish that would’ve been there when this was happening to you. With Ben. With your—cutting. To maybe – I don’t know. Stop it.”

“No,” Charlie says, “I mean – I wish I would’ve known you years ago, but I had to go through those things to get to who I am today. Charlie from back then would’ve never had the courage to do half the things I’ve done in the past year. I definitely would’ve never said what I said to you tonight had I been that same person I was in secondary school.”

“I’m so glad you said those things.”

“Me too.”

Nick’s heart swells. His blood rushes and pulses through him feverishly. There’s only one thing that drives both things. And it’s the boy laying across from him.

Uh oh, the warning signs inside his mind say, you’re falling in love.

Before Nick can let them take over, he pulls himself into the present.

“How did things with Ben end?” Nick asks. Wanting to know how Charlie stopped the vicious cycle. Wanting to know every road that led Charlie to him. To them. To this moment and the ones that await them.

“The final straw was the night after our school formal. The night of it, Ben had ignored me all throughout the dance. And then he’d – well, he’d cornered me in the parking lot and taken me to a cheap motel where he – well we – you know.”

Charlie can’t finish the sentence coherently, and that tells Nick everything his words don’t.

The pressure in Nick’s chest grows at the implication.

“Charlie, did he –"

“No,” Charlie replies quickly, “or – I mean, not really. I didn’t say no.”

“But did you say yes?” Nick is quick to point out, “did he even ask?”

“I guess it was implied in the way I was participating that I was okay with it. And I was until – maybe at one point I wasn’t. But I didn’t voice that.”

Nick can feel anger building inside of him for a person whose face he does not know. Who’s voice he’s never heard.

“He should’ve asked. Or read the fucking room.”

“He didn’t care.”

“A knob is not nearly enough to describe this person.”

Charlie gives him a small chuckle, “he sucked, that’s for sure. But what he did after that was even worse. The day after the school formal, I went to go confront him about the night at the motel. Just how – I mean I guess how you said – he wasn’t considerate of me at all. How he’d really never had been. But when I found him, I overheard him speaking to some of his friends about how I was pathetic. Had followed him around all night. And how he didn’t care for me at all.”

“Jesus, what a fucking prick. Charlie, I hope you know you didn’t deserve any of that. And that he treated you that way because he probably hated himself.”

“I do know that now,” Charlie says, “but I didn’t back then. And hearing him say that made me want to not exist anymore. I felt like I just didn’t matter, so why did I need to keep on existing?”

Nick isn’t aloof enough to not know what Charlie is alluding to. But he feels his heart stop at the realization. At the understanding.

“I know it sounds awful. And it was. But that was the worst of it. And once the worse was over, the healing began. And well – here I am today.”

Charlie gives Nick a small smile, but for a rarity of a moment, Nick can’t return it. He can’t return it because he can’t fathom how Charlie had to endure such hardships to find the peace he feels today. He can’t comprehend how someone as beautiful and wonderful as Charlie had to go through those things. Did go through those things. And Nick’s heart hurts for him. He feels agony for Charlie’s past, even if it’s led them to this present time.

He doesn’t notice a tear fall until his cheek feels wet, and Charlie’s thumb wipes away at it.

“Nick,” Charlie says, “don’t cry. It’s okay now.”

But it wasn’t okay then. And that is enough to make Nick feel as he does.

He doesn’t say it though. Instead, he pulls Charlie into his chest. Into his arms. Into a space where he hopes Charlie doesn’t feel any of those terrible feelings ever again.

“I just can’t imagine a world without you in it.”

            Charlie raises his head enough to look above him to Nick, and Nick looks down at Charlie. One of his arms holds him closely to his chest, and his other hand holds his face. His beautiful, angelic face that Nick could never tire of staring at.

            “You don’t have to.”

            “Good,” Nick places a tender kiss at the top of Charlie’s head, where his hair is almost practically completely dry, “And I never want to make you feel that way. So, if I ever am, please, please, tell me to go fuck myself.”

            Charlie makes Nick’s favorite sound, “you would never make me feel that way. I know you wouldn’t.”

            “I’d never want to. And I’ll do anything I can never to.”

            “I know,” Charlie says.

            Without another word, he raises his head enough to bring his lips to Nick. The feeling is the same feeling of euphoria Nick’s felt all night when their mouths touch. Nick thinks they could do this for the rest of their lives and the feeling will never diminish.

            When they pull back, Nick whispers against his lips, “I really, really like you, Charlie.”

            And Charlie whispers back, “I really, really like you too, Nick.”

            Nick pulls back enough to smile at him. Charlie smiles back before resting his head back on Nick’s chest. Nick scratches at the back of Charlie’s head with one hand. His other is occupied holding onto Charlie’s on his chest.

            “I’m glad you told me about this,” Nick tells him, “I want to know everything about you.”

            “It’s not really something I tell most people,” Charlie admits, “it’s extremely personal. And sad as hell. But I figured if we’re doing this then – well, I want you to know me. Really know me.”

            “I want that too.”

            Charlie shifts and Nick lets him make himself comfortable. He contorts his body in a way where he’s laying comfortable enough to rest his chin on Nick’s chest and look up at him.

            “Then tell me something about you I don’t already know,” Charlie says, “share something with me you haven’t before.”

            “Well, there’s a way to put me on the spot,” Nick laughs, “what do you want to know?”

            “Everything,” Charlie says, “anything. Why don’t you tell me about that rugby lad that made you realize you were attracted to guys in that way?”

            “You sure you want to hear about that? Also, you said to tell you something you don’t know. You know about that.”

            “I know of it, but not like the details. And yeah, sure I don’t really care to hear how you were pinning for another guy, but I want to know how you came to discover things about yourself. How it made you feel. What you did about it.”

            Nick understands what Charlie means. Because he’d heard fragments of the story Charlie just told him before tonight, but never like how Charlie just shared it. Never in such detail. In such bareness. So, he tells Charlie the story about how he discovered his sexuality. Charlie listens and asks questions. And then Charlie tells Nick about himself and his mother – someone he used to be estranged with but has since become a lot closer to. Then Nick tells Charlie about his brother – someone who he’s always been estranged to but wishes he wasn’t. Charlie tells Nick about his inpatient stay. Nick tells Charlie about Sarah and Nelly. And they talk, and talk, and talk until they both drift off into sleep. And more than the sex, Nick falls asleep that night being the most intimate he’s ever been with another person in his entire life.

Nick turns, and when he does, his body knocks into something on his bed. It takes his mind a moment or two to realize it isn’t something that he’s knocked into, but someone.

He blinks his eyes awake, his mind coming into consciousness and memories of the night before flooding in like waters through a dam.

The fight outside the club. Nick going home early because of it. Charlie showing up at his door unannounced. Charlie proposing they be together. Nick giving into it. Their physical intimacies. And then their emotional ones. The emotional ones that lasted long into the night. So long, they fell asleep during one of them. Which one, Nick can’t remember. But it doesn’t matter. Because the someone in his bed isn’t just anyone.

It’s Charlie.

His back is to Nick. His curls draped over Nick’s pillowcase and most of Nick’s blanket covering his body. They’re still just in Nick’s briefs.

Nick smiles to himself. Falling asleep with Charlie is almost as nice as waking up next to him.

He goes to wrap his arms behind Charlie, drift off into sleep once more. When reality hits him like a freight train. The reality of Nick sharing a flat with three other people. And Charlie the same. People whom Nick doesn’t want to invite into their bubble right now. Scared that it’ll overcrowd the space they’ve carved out for themselves. Making it all far more difficult to manage. Nick’s still not oblivious to the obvious complications they’re going to face now that they’re doing this. Now that they’ve decided this. The less factors they throw in, the better chance they have.

Nick grabs for his phone on his nightstand and sees that it’s only a half hour past eight. He knows his friends got home late last night. Likely around three am or so when Charlie and he had finally drifted off, so he knows that they won’t be awake anytime soon. He doubts Charlie’s friends will be awake either. So, as much as Nick would like to keep Charlie in his bed, wrapped around his arms and sleeping peacefully, he knows there’s no time like now for Charlie to sneak out unnoticed by anyone.

He turns, ready to gently shake Charlie awake when he feels Charlie stir beside him. He watches as Charlie rolls onto his back, his eyes lazily opening up and meeting Nick’s. Even when he’s sleepy and barely awake, Charlie’s eyes manage to find Nick’s with ease.

“Good morning,” Nick smiles at him.

“Good – wait,” Charlie’s expression is one of confoundment, “did I stay the night?”

“Sort of,” Nick chuckles, “I think we didn’t notice when we fell asleep.”

Charlie hums, and then stretches his arms over his head, revealing his bare skin underneath Nick’s duvet. Nick’s eyes can’t help but go to Charlie’s bare chest. Truly a sight he could never bore of. And his body knows it, reacting almost immediately. He tries to blame it on morning wood, but he knows it’s just Charlie. Charlie, and the way he makes him feel. And as much as Nick wants to keep exploring those feelings, he knows they can’t get into right now. He knows Charlie can’t stay if they don’t want to risk their friends discovering them just yet.

“What time is it?” Charlie asks.

“About eight thirty,” Nick answers.

“Shit, it’s early,” Charlie yawns.

“Yeah, but,” Nick hesitates, unsure of how Charlie will take what he’s about to say, “I think this is our best window of opportunity to get you out of here without anyone noticing you spent the night.”

“Oh,” Charlie says, and Nick doesn’t like the way it sounds, “right. I didn’t – I hadn’t really thought of that. I guess I should go.”

Charlie starts to sit up, and Nick feels like he needs to explain before he makes Charlie feel unnecessarily unwanted.

“I don’t want you to go,” Nick says, placing a hand on Charlie’s thigh over the duvet, keeping him from getting off the bed just yet, “believe me, I wish you could stay. I just – I don’t think it’s the best idea to tell our friends about us just yet. Especially when we’re just starting to figure things out.”

Charlie looks at Nick but doesn’t respond right away.

“Yeah, I guess that makes sense,” Charlie eventually says, and Nick feels his could breathe again, “but you still do want to do this, right? Or are you having, you know – regrets?”

Nick instinctively scoots closer to Charlie, closing the space between them like if the physical closeness will convince Charlie of what Nick’s words can’t seem to do.

“Of course not,” Nick says, “I want this, Charlie. But it’s going to be complicated. You know that. I know that. And I think while we navigate this right now, it’s better to keep it between us. I do want to tell our friends. Eventually. When I’ve figured more of my own stuff out. And we’ve figured out how this works. But I want it to work. And I’m willing to do whatever I can to make sure it does.”

One corner of Charlie’s mouth goes up, and for the first time, Nick actually thinks he’s said the right words. And they’re words he means wholeheartedly. He wants this to work. Whether Nick believes it actually will or won’t is another thing. But he’s willing to try to go for what he wants for once, and now just what he thinks is possible.

“Okay,” Charlie says.

Nick grabs Charlie’s hand and presses a closed mouth kiss to his knuckles. He’s grateful that this new territory allows Nick to be able to show Charlie how he feels through physical touch. He’s never been the best at just using his words. Sometimes he can convey what he feels with gestures much more easily.

Charlie squeezes Nick’s hand before letting it go and hopping off his bed. He grabs his joggers and shirt from Nick’s floor from the night before and puts them on. Nick does the same, except he doesn’t put on his shirt. He does plan to go back to bed once Charlie leaves and can never sleep with that many layers of clothes. Once they’re both fully dressed, they walk towards Nick’s bedroom door.

Nick moves in front of Charlie and stops right before they exit.

“Let me check that the coast is clear,” he tells Charlie over his shoulder. Charlie nods and stays right where he is.

Nick slowly opens his bedroom door, trying to make as little sound as possible. He peeks his head out, looking down the hallway to see if he sees any of his roommates roaming about. As much as Nick doubts it, he doesn’t want them to be caught by surprise. After how he got caught by surprise by Thomas, he’s learned to be a lot more careful. He doesn’t see anyone but waits to listen for any voices. He doesn’t hear any either. Instead, there’s a calm silence in their flat that usually only manifests when everyone is asleep.

Nick, still being cautious, steps out his door and treads lightly down his hallway, listening and looking for anyone in the common room area. He doesn’t hear anyone, and once he enters his living room and kitchen space, he doesn’t see anyone either. He’s sure everyone is in their own rooms, sleeping soundly from a very drunk, very late, night out. He goes back to his bedroom, still being very quiet as he does. He finds Charlie exactly where he left him, looking down at his phone in his hands.

“Coast is clear,” Nick whispers.

When Charlie looks up, he gives Nick an amused smile.

“Okay then,” Charlie whispers right back.

He follows Nick out of his bedroom and down the hallway. In silence, they walk to Nick’s door.

Before Nick opens his door and let’s Charlie out, he turns to face him.

Charlie looks like someone who’s just woken up. With his unruly curly hair, and his puffy eyes, and his sleeping clothes on, and yet all Nick can think about is how many more times he’ll get to see him like this. How many more times he wants to see him like this. And he wonders how he can keep getting so lucky.

Nick, feeling a wave of emotions, reaches out for Charlie. He wraps him in his arms like it’s second nature to him. And maybe it is. Long before last night, long before there was much more than they could do than just this, Nick used to hug Charlie just like he is now. Not just, but close enough. It was the safe way to be close to Charlie. Or the safest. Nick doesn’t need to be that cautious anymore, but he stills enjoys holding Charlie in his arms just the same. Feeling the weight of Charlie right against him.

They stay like that for a bit. But it is short, given how Nick’s worry about their friends seeing them continues to cloud his mind.

He releases Charlie and then plants a swift kiss on his lips. It’s not nearly enough, but given their shortness on time, and the fact that they’re both likely suffering from morning breath, it’s all Nick can think to offer Charlie.

Charlie smiles up at him, “want to make sure the other coast is clear before I walk out?”

Nick can’t believe he almost forgot. He blames Charlie and the way he makes Nick lose all his wit.

“Yes,” Nick says.

He turns, and unlocks his front door, peeking his head out just like he had his bedroom door. He looks both ways and sees no one coming or going from their building. It’s far too early on a Sunday for mostly anyone to be awake, but Nick scans every inch of their corridor. He’s paranoid like that – too traumatized from what happened to him last term to not thoroughly inspect the space. To not thoroughly ensure there’s no one waiting outside his hallway for him, willing to record the entire interaction and spread it around campus. He does a thorough inspection before he concludes that there is, in fact, no one around.

Nick doesn’t close the door entirely when he goes back inside.

He turns his head to Charlie, “once again, the coast is clear.”

Charlie huffs out a laugh, “I’ll get going then.”

Charlie walks around Nick, but before Nick opens the door for him, he says, “I’ll text you when I’m fully awake.”

“Okay,” Charlie says, “I’ll talk to you soon, then.”

“Yes.”

Charlie gives Nick a final look before Nick opens the door fully for him and Charlie darts right out. Nick closes the door behind him, making sure not to make noise as he locks it in a hurry. He makes sure to walk lightly as he quickly walks down the hallway again and back to his bedroom.

Once Nick is inside his room again, it feels strangely empty. And he immediately knows why. It’s because Charlie isn’t there anymore. And any space that comes to know Charlie’s presence instantly feels his absence when he’s gone. Nick tries to shove the feeling aside, knowing he’s just done what’s right for them. He meant everything he said to Charlie. Every explanation he gave him about why he thought it was best for him to leave now. So maybe he left out the part where he also doesn’t want their friends to know because he’s still not ready to talk about it with his friends. He’s still not ready to outwardly discuss his sexuality, much less his relationship with another man, with anyone. But he doesn’t think he needed to say it. He’s sure Charlie sensed it.

Nick flops down on his bed. He looks to the side of it where Charlie had just been laying. Missing him already, he reaches a hand out and passes it over where Charlie had been sleeping.

He sighs.

He knows he’s not going to be able to go back to bed. Not now. Not without Charlie.

He reaches for his phone, bypassing every message from the boys and Amaya from the night before and going to his thread with Charlie.

He doesn’t think it matters anymore how vulnerable either of them are with one another when they’ve already been the most vulnerable they could be in the last twenty-four hours.

So, he types out a message that gives way to exactly what he’s thinking.

Nick N.: I miss you already.

Nick half expect Charlie not to respond. To already be in his bed sound asleep. But the text comes in seconds later, and Nick wonders if Charlie was staring at their message thread too. Thinking of what to text Nick or if to text him at all while he lays in his own bed, unable to fall asleep without Nick either.

Charlie S.: me too.

at least i have your briefs on to remind me of you x

Nick N: Is it the way he breathes or is it his boxer briefs?

Charlie S: omg do not make fun of my poem you asshat

Nick N: I would never!!

I actually related to it quite a bit.

Charlie S: shut up x

Nick N: Make me.

Charlie S: i would if i was still there.

Nick N: I wish you were x

Charlie S: maybe soon x. but for now we should try and sleep a bit more.

Nick N: I’ll try. But I think you’ve doomed me in being able to sleep without you.   

Charlie S: sleep on my pillow. maybe it’ll help.

goodnight for now x

Nick doesn’t respond. Instead, he hearts the message and locks his phone, not wanting to keep Charlie up much longer just because he’s finding it hard to sleep without him. He was the one who asked Charlie to leave. He’s the one who needs to reap what he sowed.

When Nick locks his phone, he looks back to the side of his bed where Charlie slept all night like staring at the space will magically make Charlie reappear in it. And then Charlie’s idea, along with an accompanying thought, enters Nick’s mind.  

Nick scoots over to that side of the bed until his head is on the same pillow Charlie’s slept it. He’s instantly hit with the scent of Charlie – something like cinnamon and spice. Something so Charlie. And it is only like that, breathing in Charlie’s scent, sleeping on his very same side of the bed, that Nick is able to welcome sleep again.

Chapter Text

Charlie spends the rest of his Sunday aggressively trying not to think about Nick Nelson. He quickly comes to find that his attempts are futile, and his failure is imminent. Try as Charlie might, his thoughts flow like a river down the stream of memories of the night before that lead him straight to Nick. To their night together. A night that Charlie hadn’t really expected to happen the way that it did.

Charlie really hadn’t expected much to come of him showing up at Nick’s door. He was fully expecting to face rejection – sure that Nick would stand his ground and remind Charlie why his proposition was a bad idea and one they should stay away from. The only reason he’d gone through with it was because he’d been restless the moment he got to his flat. He still felt the heat of their argument, their moment against the brick wall, hot on his skin. Burning him up from the inside out. Flames of a fire he couldn’t put out if he didn’t just try to fan them instead. Try because, with it all in the open, there was truly nothing left for him to lose. Even if he didn’t try, it’d be lost anyway. They’d be lost. To something else, and something unknown. So, what was really the worst that could happen after that?

 When Nick kept pushing back in his bedroom, Charlie felt himself crumble in the familiar way he’d anticipated and he was ready to walk out of Nick’s room, go back to his own flat, and wallow in his own misery. The last thing he thought would happen was for Nick to seemingly change his mind as quickly as he had. For him to suddenly turn the flight around, just as the plane was going down.

And now, in his room to his own self and his own thoughts, Charlie can’t stop thinking about it. Any of it. All of it. Nick’s hands hot on his body. As they touched him in ways they never had before. In ways that Charlie feels no one has ever touched him before. Which is not, logistically, true. But with how different Nick’s touch felt compared to anyone else’s, it very well could be. His thoughts continue to lead him back to Nick’s mouth all over his skin. Caressing him. Tattooing him with memories and sensations Charlie’s not sure he’ll ever be able to forget. Not that he wants to. He wants to remember the feel of it. Bask in it. Shower in it. Drown in it.

The only reason Charlie tries not to let Nick Nelson, and their night together, consume his every waking thought is because Charlie is a human being with other priorities. With other things to do. And consistently thinking about Nick is almost debilitating. It doesn’t allow Charlie to focus or concentrate on anything else. It barely allows him to care for anything else. All Charlie can seem to care for is how to repeat last night’s events. How he can make it happen sooner rather than later. And he knows that isn’t healthy, or sustainable. He understands he needs to temper his expectations when it comes to this thing between him and Nick.

Nick may have given in, but his reservations are still painfully obvious. Charlie knows that there’s a chance, and a pretty good one, that their plane still might go down. Reducing them to nothing more than ash and pieces of themselves. And if he wants to try and avoid a colossal impact, minimize the casualties if the plane does go down, he needs to take things at a pace that his heart may not understand. But it has to. It has to. Because as much as Charlie wants things to work out with Nick, he needs to be prepared for the possibility that they might not. It’s a very real possibility and one he knows would crush him entirely. But he has to be prepared enough to take care of himself. To not allow himself to completely disappear in the aftermath of that looming ‘what if’ that can easily become his reality.

So, Charlie tries to spend his Sunday distracting himself by burying himself in his coursework, while Nick takes his friends out for hangover food and a post-fun-night-out workout session. Charlie tries not to wonder if Nick can’t stop thinking about him during his mundane activities the same way Charlie can’t stop thinking about him during his. They text in between these mundane activities, but it’s so much like how they texted before they knew what each other tasted like it’s almost jarring. And not at all distracting. Charlie has to all but stop himself from sending out an explicit text – something like ‘when can I fuck you again, please.’ He definitely needs a better distraction.

He thinks about distracting himself with something more entertaining – his friends. But he’s scared of the questioning that might occur when he comes face to face with them again. Last night, he hadn’t really given anyone a proper explanation as to why he’d left, and he’d only let them know that he had once he was already in the Uber. Amy had blown up his phone the moment his text went out, but he’d forwarded every call. He’d texted her that he didn’t want to talk about it, and just wasn’t feeling well. He could see the bubbles forming in their texting thread, but then as quickly as they appeared, they disappeared. Like she’d thought better of whatever she was going to write out to him. She ended up just thumbing up his message, and they left it at that. He knows his friends are going to want to know what happened that led to Charlie calling it an early night. And he’s not sure if he’ll be able to convincingly lie. About any of it. And he knows Nick would rather they keep whatever they’re doing to themselves for the time being. So, he avoids being in his friends’ company for most of the day by keeping himself locked up in his room. And it isn’t until nightfall starts coming around that Charlie not only starts to get stir crazy, but also starts to realize something has to be wrong.

Once he sees the sun setting, he realizes he hasn’t only been camping out in his room, repeatedly failing at not thinking about Nick Nelson, but no one has come looking for him. Amy hasn’t come obnoxiously banging on his door, demanding he open and then demanding answers for the previous night or why he’s been MIA all day. She hasn’t even texted him today – to see if he’s alive or well or simply to know what went on the night before. Jess is usually much better than Amy with boundaries, but even she has been unusually quiet.

The more Charlie ponders on it, the more he realizes that the rift that has been forming between himself, and Amy has worsened. It doesn’t feel like something simple anymore. It feels bigger – something more like a tidal wave. Charlie thinks that if he’s had one of the toughest conversations he’s ever had in his life in the last twenty-four hours – that turned out pretty well – then maybe it’s just the time to have another. And it isn’t just about him anymore. Or him and Amy. He feels it’s time he and Amy talk about Amy and Jess’ own conflicting state of friendship as well that he feels he knows far too little about.

He wonders if she’s home, not having heard much movement throughout the flat during the day. He thinks about texting her first, to find out whether she is in her room or not and then decides that just like he did with Nick – he’s just going to show up. No more than five minutes after the through appeared in his head is Charlie standing in front of Amy’s bedroom door. He knocks twice. Lightly. A brush of his knuckles against her wooden door. Amy doesn’t come to the door immediately, and for a moment he thinks the moment won’t come to fruition because she isn’t home. But then he hears movement on the other side of the door. A second later, the moment comes to life as Amy opens her bedroom door.

She looks a bit disheveled. Her hair is atop her head in a lazy and messy bun that Charlie knows she put together with minimal effort and very little time. She’s in an oversized shirt that covers most of her frame, and Charlie can tell that she put the same amount of effort into removing her makeup as she did picking her hair up because there’s some smudged liner around her eyes.

She looks tired as she looks up at him with eyes that give very little away to what her mind is thinking, “Charles,” she says, almost as if she’s unsurprised to see him standing outside her door.

“Did you know I was the one knocking?” he asks.

“No one else knocks so politely. Jess usually bangs on my door, and it’s more like a warning sign because she’ll just open it a second after.”

“I see,” Charlie smiles, trying to ease some of the tension he can already feel between them, “long night?”

Amy doesn’t return his smile.

“You would know if you had stayed.”

Charlie tries not to let himself become irritated so quickly. He reminds himself that Amy cares. Whenever she gets like this, it’s because she’s coming from a place of genuine love and concern. And he doesn’t want to start off the conversation coming from a place of annoyance. He knows it won’t go well that way.

“I just couldn’t be there anymore,” he says, “I was hoping we could maybe talk?”

Amy doesn’t answer right away. For a brief moment, Charlie thinks she’s going to tell him no. Reject the idea all together and close the door in his face. But then she opens her door wider and turns from him.

“Come on in then,” she says, her back towards Charlie as she walks into her room.

Charlie braces himself mentally. Talking with Nick was a gamble because he wasn’t sure what to expect of the outcome. Talking with Amy is a gamble for an entirely different reason. Amy is a firecracker, but she’s also emotional, and sometimes he just doesn’t know exactly what he’ll get from her. Whether she’s been rational and understanding, or chaotic and argumentative. He watches as she walks back to her bed, where he suspects she’s been in all day given the state of it. The covers are undone and there’s a space carved out where it looks like she’s been laying on her pillow. Her TV is playing an episode of Friends that Charlie doesn’t recognize, and the rest of her room is in its usual state of chaos. There are clothes all over her bedroom floor. Take out containers alongside her nightstand and drawers. Her makeup products and brushes lay in various corners of her room too. The only thing in Amy’s room that is entirely untouched and unplagued by the rest of the mess is her bookshelf.

            That little detail has always amused Charlie.

            Amy crawls up her bed, grabbing a pillow and hugging it close to her. Charlie then takes a seat at the edge of her bed, having nowhere else to sit since her bean bag chair is covered in clothes that he does not know whether are clean or dirty. She stares at him from where she sits, not speaking nor initiating the conversation. And he knows it’s because she’s waiting for to start to conversation. She’s letting him be the one to set the pace and the tone for whatever conversation he’s trying to have with her.

            With Nick, he knew how to start. He knew not to just dive right in to what he wanted to say, and work his way up to it. With Amy, he’s not sure where to begin. He’s not sure what’s better.

            “I’m not very sure where to start,” he admits to her.

            Her expression remains stoic. And Charlie knows she’s not going to make this easy for him. She’s going to make him work to find the right words to express himself. In true Amy fashion, she is going to push him outside of his comfort.

            Charlie clears his throat, “I’m sorry about the way I treated you the night of our last slam poetry night,” he says, diving headfirst because despite not knowing exactly what to say, Charlie does know how he feels. And he’s felt sorry for that night since it happened. He’s not sure why it’s taking him so long to apologize for it.

            “I’m sorry that it’s taken me this long to apologize for it. But I truly am sorry.”

            “What exactly about it is it that you’re sorry for?” Amy questions him.

            He knows that she’s challenging him, to a degree. But he’s willing to meet the challenge. Because Amy is his friend, and he wants to fix this with her.

            “For giving you unnecessary attitude. For making horrible insinuations and assumptions. None of which I even believe or believed at the time. I was just frustrated, and I misdirected that frustration on you.”

            “Frustrated because of Nick.”

            She doesn’t pose it as a question. She doesn’t have to. She’s always known.

            “Yes,” Charlie confesses, “the situation was just becoming something that I felt like I was losing my handle on. In the worst ways.”

            “Why didn’t you talk to me about it, then?”

            The flicker of annoyance that Charlie felt when Amy had first opened her bedroom door returns. It doesn’t grow into a flame, but it exists. And Charlie thinks it’s existed for quite some time. And when it has, it’s any time Amy has felt entitled to know about things that Charlie may not want to share. Or insert herself in situations and decisions that Charlie might want to keep as his own.

            “Amy, I don’t always want to talk about things,” Charlie explains, trying to keep his tone even but his voice as stern as his stance, “I’ve always been that way. I’ve always been one to kind of hold onto things, especially when I’m not ready to talk about it. Yes, I’ve gotten better through therapy and time, but I’m still just not that person that divulges every little piece of information about myself. I feel like you’ve not entirely respected that in our friendship.”

            Charlie half expects Amy to turn sour at his accusation. He half expects her to turn so sour she becomes angry, and perhaps for their conversation to turn into a full-fledged argument with no clear resolution. But Amy doesn’t flinch at his words. In fact, she carries the same deadpan expression she’s had on since she opened her door.

            “I thought the point of you coming here, and rooming with me specifically, was so I could push you outside of what you’re used to. Outside of what you’re comfortable with.”

            “It was, to a degree. And you have pushed me. And I can’t thank you enough for the pushes you’ve given me that were necessary,” Charlie says, “but there are parts about me I don’t intend to change. I don’t think need changing. And me just not being a completely open book is one of those things.”

            Amy is quiet as she absorbs his words. Charlie wonders what she must be thinking. If she can even try to understand him. They’ve always been different in that regard. Amy is an open book. She thinks of herself as fully authentic and in being so, she doesn’t hold back her tongue in any regard. He wonders if she thinks of him as something else because he is not that way.

            “It was never done with bad intentions,” Amy eventually speaks, “I’ve grown to care about you, Charlie. So, I’ve always just wanted to be a good of a friend to you as possible. I’ve just wanted to help.”

            “I know,” Charlie says, because he does, “I know you have. And for the most part, you have. But with the Nick thing – that was just something I needed to figure out on my own.”

            “And have you?” Amy asks, and for the first time, Charlie can see a hint of an expression on her face. It’s not what he expects. She seems almost bemused.

            He thinks she can see through him. Can read right into his mind that continues to play the previous night’s events in his head. Nick’s mouth on his dick. His mouth on Nick’s dick. Their impromptu sex in the shower that was so wildly intimate Charlie could hardly stand it. The images flood his mind and Charlie tries to drain them from it as to avoid getting a hard on while he’s trying to have a serious conversation with his friend.

            “For the most part,” Charlie says, though he’s not willing to say much more, “and I truly thank you for caring enough to try and help me with the situation. It isn’t that I don’t appreciate it.”

            “You just don’t always need it. Or want it,” Amy finishes for him.

            Charlie nods.

            “I hope that’s okay.”

            “I guess it is,” Amy says, and Charlie notices she hugs the pillow a bit tighter, “I’m just always looking out for my friends. Me butting in to that situation was me trying to protect you from it. And I’ll always have that instinct. It comes naturally to me. But I’ll try and be more mindful of your feelings too.”

            “Thank you, Amy. And I’m really sorry for not just explaining it to you like this earlier. To be honest, I didn’t think you’d understand it this easily. But that also gave me no right to have been a dick anyway.”

            Amy’s mouth twitches, and a corner lifts for the first time since they’ve been in her room together.

            “Maybe like a week ago I wouldn’t have understood it. I’m stubborn as you know. And I’m also not saying I still won’t butt in even when you don’t want me to – might take a while for me to learn when to let you be. But I’ll try. And yes, you definitely didn’t have to be a dick about it.”

            “I know,” Charlie says, knowing that he didn’t and knowing that she won’t just magically change overnight, “but thank you for understanding. And trying. I’ll also have more patience moving forward and just be more vocal about wanting my space.”

            “Fair.”

            Charlie thinks of maybe closing out the conversation then. But he feels like there’s still something he needs to ask. Even if it’s ironic for him to ask when he’s basically just, very politely, asked Amy to be more mindful about minding her business moving forward.

            “There is something else I want to talk to you about,” he says despite his, possible, hypocrisy.

            Amy looks a bit uncomfortable when she asks, “what is it?”

            Charlie ponders on whether she already knows where he’s going with this and doesn’t want to talk about it, or whether she only seems uncomfortable because she’s at a complete loss as to what he might ask.

            “Jess,” Charlie answers truthfully.

            Despite the fact that Charlie knows there’s something going on there that is unpleasant for Amy, she seems to relax at the mention of Jess’ name. It makes Charlie’s brain think that whatever she thought he was going to bring up, it was definitely not that. And it almost makes him wish he knew what that something was. But now, he thinks, is not the time.

            Amy’s relief, however, is short-lived anyhow. Within seconds, she seems affected by the mention of Jess’ name. The reaction Charlie initially thought she’d have presents itself with a delay.

            “Oh,” Amy shuffles a bit, “what about Jess?”

            “I know there’s something… odd going on there,” Charlie says, using his words carefully, “It’s been pretty obvious to me for some time. And I know how hypocritical of me it is to ask you about this when I’ve just asked you to give me privacy and space when it comes to my personal affairs, but I just want to let you know I’ve noticed. I’ve noticed how it’s affected you, whatever it is, and I’m here to talk about it if you want. To listen. And to offer any advice I can if you think that’ll help.”

            Amy sighs, and through it, Charlie can tell how tired she is from whatever situation she’s had with Jess.

            “I’ve loved Jess since the moment I met her. Literally. It was like love at first sight. I mean, have you seen her? She’s hot,” Amy says, and Charlie can’t help but laugh at the way she expresses herself. It’s just so Amy. But he doesn’t say anything, and she continues, “and we clicked on so many levels too, and in so many ways, so quickly it felt so stupid to not give into it. So, when we finally had sex, it was no surprise to me that it was the best sex I’d ever had.”

            Charlie feels his brain already drawing the comparisons between Amy and Jess and him and Nick. It’s hard for him not to, when Amy talks about Jess the exact same way Charlie would talk about Nick if he was allowed. If he was able to tell people how he truly felt about him since the moment they met.

            “Like fuck, Charlie. It was chemical. That’s what it felt like,” Charlie knows the feelings, “but I wasn’t ready for a fully committed relationship during freshmen year. I mean, I had just come to uni. So had she. It felt irresponsible for us to commit to something that we both might’ve screwed up because we were too young and stupid and quite frankly, horny, for it.”

            Amy pauses and looks down at her arms hugging the pillow. Charlie doesn’t interrupt her moment. He doesn’t ask questions or pry her to continue. He gives her the brief pause to collect herself and her thoughts and whatever she wants to say next.

            She raises her eyes to Charlie again, and beneath them, Charlie can see the sadness that surrounds the memories trailing through her mind.

            “At the end of our freshmen year she asked me to commit. And a big, big part of me wanted to. But a bigger part of me thought, ‘it’s still too soon.’ I really didn’t want to risk the destruction of our friendship too, since I’ve always tried to value our friendship above all else. So, I said no. And I came to regret that for a very long time after.”

            Amy looks away as she continues, to some corner in her room where she probably feels safer than baring herself as she currently is, “we created some distance after freshmen year. During the holidays we didn’t speak. Then when we came back for our next term, we decided to stay strictly friends. And I thought I still wasn’t ready, and I’d be okay with that but every time I saw her hook up with someone new it was like a piece of me was dying inside. During our freshmen year when that would happen, yes, I’d get jealous, but it was tolerable because I was doing the same thing. And the biggest difference was that I wanted to be doing the same thing.”

            “And then that changed last year, and you realized you didn’t?” Charlie asks, speaking for the first time since Amy’s started to explain the situation to him.

            “Basically. I realized I was ready. I realized I couldn’t deny myself any further because I was, like I always had been, truly in love with her.”

            Charlie puts their story together in images in his mind. Like he’s watching a television show where the main plotline is the love affair between Amy and Jess. When he gets to ending of the episode they’re on now, he’s pretty sure he knows what comes next. He knows how the show ends. And it isn’t the fairytale ending everyone always craves for these kind of love stories, but the one that just ends up being the reality.

            “By then she didn’t feel the same anymore.”

            Amy lets out a sad snicker, “she said she couldn’t trust me like that anymore. That I’d hurt her so bad with my rejection of us the previous year, she needed to bury her feelings for me somewhere she couldn’t find them anymore. So, yeah. Basically, she didn’t care for me like that anymore.”

            Charlie wonders if he would’ve waited longer to tell Nick how he feels, how he truly feels, or if Nick had said no last night instead of yes, whether they would’ve eventually found themselves where Jess and Amy find themselves today. Two friends who have loved each other as more at different points in time, never able to get the timing just right, now finding themselves hanging on to the threads of a friendship that is barely stitched together. It’s a horrific thought.

            Amy turns her head, and looks back at Charlie, “I was stubborn. As I am. And well, I couldn’t let it go. So, I just started taking what I could get. We started sleeping together again at the end of last term because the sex was still incredible. It’s not that I necessarily thought that would change her mind, but I just thought if it went back to what it was then maybe she’d… remember. That maybe she could go back to how she felt when she asked me the first time, and then she’d ask me again but this time I’d say yes.”

            Charlie knows it hasn’t worked out like Amy hoped. He knows, because he’s seen them with his own two eyes. The tension. The silent arguments and growing resentment. It’s a horrible consequence to impairments of youth that are sometimes unavoidable. Complications that age, and consequentially bad decisions because of age, doesn’t allow one to iron out so easily.

            “I eventually gave up on waiting for her to ask me and asked her myself a couple of weeks ago. She said she still felt the same, still unable to trust me and so, unable to grow those feelings for me again that made her want to commit to me at some point. And then she told me she had grown feelings for someone else. Something she’s never told me before, but it was exactly what I needed to know that whatever we once were, is truly dead.”

            Charlie’s heart aches for his friend. He knows Amy is free-spirited and generally unserious, but he can see how much the dissolution of a dream she once had, with a person she truly cares for, has hurt her. Has left invisible bruises over her spirit. And how much he’s been caught up in his own problems, in his own unsureness with Nick, to have been a good enough friend to be there for her through this.

            “Amy, I’m sorry,” he says, and he knows the word does little to wrap around how sorry he feels not just for her situation, but for his absence in it as well, but he can’t help but apologize anyway.

            Amy gives him a noncommittal shrug, “it’s over. There’s nothing left for me to do about it. But her and I, what we had and what we’ve gone through, was the reason I was trying to protect you from Nick. It was the reason I was trying to assess him, and his feelings for you. Because your feelings are pretty obvious, Charlie. Whether you want to admit to them or not. And I just know, firsthand, how difficult it is to be in love with a friend and then have those lines blurred and then just erased. I was just trying to spare you. Because I’m a pretty tough bitch, but for the last couple of weeks, it hasn’t felt like it.”

            “I’m not in love with Nick,” is all Charlie can think to say. As if it really makes a difference.

            It doesn’t. And you’re half-way there anyway.

            Amy gives him an all too knowing smirk, “if you say so. But whether you are or aren’t, you’re right. It’s not my business. And unless you want to confide with in me in that, then I just have to trust that you’re making the right decisions to take care of yourself.”

            “Thank you, Amy,” Charlie says sincerely, feeling like whatever had been weighing down their friendship as of late has finally been lifted, “I promise, I am. And I’m not just sorry for what’s happening between you and Jess. But I’m sorry I really haven’t been there for you through it either.”

            Amy sighs, but it isn’t heavy. It’s just tired like the one she gave him previously.

            “In all fairness, I wasn’t talking to you about it. I wasn’t talking to anyone about it. Mainly because well – I knew you had your own things going on. But also, because… it’s hard to talk about. I hate being vulnerable like that. And truly, Charlie, there wasn’t really much you or anyone else would’ve been able to do to help. Having her the way I wanted her was the only way everything would’ve gotten resolved, and you couldn’t have really helped with that.”

            “Still,” Charlie pushes the issue, “I could’ve been a better friend. I could’ve asked more questions and I could’ve not thrown by own problems onto you like you didn’t have any.”

            “I could’ve been a more understanding friend. And I could’ve explained my intentions better and all that” Amy pushes back, “but I think we can both be better from now knowing what we know now.”

            “Definitely,” Charlie agrees, fully ready to turn the page and start a new chapter with Amy, “I think we both really do have a better understanding now.”

            As they come to terms with both of their wrong doings, Charlie feels a new wound healing. It seems he’s been doing a lot of that in the last 24 hours.

            Not wanting to leave the conversation without a clear conclusion, Charlie asks, “where do you and Jess stand now?”

            Amy sits up a bit straighter at the questions, like she’s preparing herself to answer, “trying to go back to just being friends. Though it’s hard because even when we were just friends, it always felt like more. But it’s all we can be now. I have to move on.”

            “I imagine that’s difficult because you two are still living together. And because, as you just said, it doesn’t seem that you two were really ever just friends.”

            “We were and we weren’t. It’s complicated. It’s always been complicated with Jess. But I’m tired of that – I don’t want complicated anymore. So, yeah, it’ll be difficult for all the reasons you’ve pointed out but, I have to do it. For my own peace.”

            Charlie nods in understanding, knowing very well how valuable inner peace is.

            “If there’s anything I can do to help,” Charlie says, “even if it’s just to give you a shoulder to punch, I just want you to know I’m here for you.”

            “Thanks, Charles,” Amy smiles, and for the first time since they started their conversation, Charlie can see some of the light return to her eyes. Some of the mischievous glint behind her eyes that is so Amy, “same from me to you. I know you’d like me to meddle less, and as I just told you I’ll try. But I promise I’m here if you just want to vent too.”

            There’s many things Charlie wishes he could reveal to Amy. Confide in her with. But he knows he can’t, because of Nick’s desire to keep things between them entirely confidential for the time being. He’d never betray Nick’s trust in such a way, even if he’s dying to talk about the way it feels to touch him, to be touched by him, to anyone who’d be willing to listen. To just give those all-encompassing feelings some space to breathe, to be aired out. He holds his tongue.

            “So, you’re moving on,” Charlie states, bringing himself and the attention back to the present issue, “how can I help with that?”

            Amy laughs, “I don’t really think you can. Unless you have a beautiful vagina that can sit on my face.”

            Charlie rolls his eyes at Amy, “is that really your method to move past this?”

            “Why not? How does that cliché saying go? The best way to get over someone—”

            “Is to get under someone new,” Charlie finishes for her, “but I’m not sure that’s… that it always works.”

            “Seems to be working so far,” Amy says with ease, “if only marginally.”

            It takes Charlie a moment to piece together her words. To draw the only conclusion  he could from the implications of them.

            His eyebrows shoot up, almost disappearing into his hairline, “wait a second – are you hooking up with someone?”

            “Ehhh,” Amy’s smile deepens, the mischief revealing itself entirely, “’hooking up’ would mean it’s happened more than once. But I have hooked up with someone. And it was pretty fantastic.”

            Charlie now feels like they’re on an entirely new season of Amy’s love affairs, and he can’t wait to find out who the new character is.

            “Was this just last night?” Charlie asks, feeling the answer in his bones before Amy confirms it for him.

            Amy gives him a playful shrug of one shoulder, “maybe.”

            “Amy!” Charlie laughs, “wow, okay. Fantastic enough to do it again?”

            “Definitely,” Amy answers almost instantly, “but there’s just one, slight problem.”

            “Which is?”

            “They’re an ex of a new friend. Who I actually happen to genuinely like.”

            Charlie’s eyebrows furrow together as he combs through the potential list of ‘exes’ from ‘new friends’ that Amy may be referring to. As he thinks of everyone who has recently come into their lives, there are only two people who fit the bill. But Charlie’s mind doesn’t allow him to compute the obvious conclusions. His mind short circuits, not allowing the answer to make sense to him.

            He blinks, rapidly and like he’s trying to let his brain wrap itself around the only obvious answer, “you’re not… surely, you’re not talking about…?”

            Amy’s smile tells him what his brain won’t comprehend.  

            “It was as unexpected for me as it seems to be for you.”

            Charlie’s mouth falls open. He can’t help the genuine shock he feels at Amy’s revelation.

            “Amy – what? You’ve hooked up with Amaya?” he can’t help the way his voice goes up a couple of octaves as he realizes that the only possible answer to his question is a confirming one.

            Amy shushes him immediately, “no need to yell it out to the whole flat!”

            “Sorry, I just – I’m… shocked, yes. But also, confused? Is she even… you know.”

            “Queer?” Amy says the word for him, “I mean, I could come up with my own answer to that question based off first-hand experience, but I won’t. She’d have to answer that for you.”

            Charlie’s mind is still trying to make sense of the entire situation, so he just stares at Amy blankly before he’s able to speak again.

            “I don’t understand how you two have gone from hating one another, to being friendly-ish to… sleeping together?”

            Amy gives him a look that lets him know she’s not trying to make too much sense of it herself, and then a shrug that brushes all the ‘how’s’ to the side entirely, “she’s hot. I hated to admit it before, but that’s always been true. And when she’s not being an absolute bitch, she’s cool. I guess that, plus alcohol, plus a good atmosphere just had one thing lead to another.”

            Charlie’s still trying to come to terms with it. Not because it’s a horrible thing, not to him at least, but because it’s just a 180 to the relationship Amy and Amaya shared prior to last night.

            “Did it happen here or at the club or…?”

            “Started at the club, ended in her flat. I got in early this morning,” Amy says, and then she narrows her eyes at him, something stuck underneath them that slightly terrifies Charlie, “which you probably would’ve noticed had you not spent the night somewhere else too.”

            Charlie eyes go wide at Amy’s words. He feels like a deer caught in headlights. His presence exposed when he was trying to remain hidden.

            His mouth opens and closes, as he tries to find a way to explain himself. Though Charlie’s never been good at making up such lies on the spot, he doubts that even if he were, anything other than the truth would be obvious to Amy. She’s always just had a way of knowing things.

            “Well, wait. How do you even know that?”

            Amy smirks again, “I heard you coming in after me. We came in about fifteen minutes apart.”

            Charlie had never thought of his friends being up to the same thing as him, and anyone being awake when he got home. Noticing him.

            “It could’ve been Jess,” he tries to deflect, though he knows there’s no point.

            “She was in her bed. I went to check up on her because well, I’m moving on, but I haven’t moved on entirely yet. And she was pretty piss drunk when we left last night so I wanted to make sure she was okay. So no, couldn’t have been her.”

            Charlie knows that Amy knows where he was last night. But he also knows, just as she does, that he won’t tell her about it. He’s still going to respect Nick’s wishes, and his journey. It’s a hard part about being a secret. Wanting to talk about things you normally would with your friends, and not being able to. He can’t help the way it makes him think about his relationship with Ben and all those times he wanted to tell Elle and Tao all the things that were going on between them. Both the good and the bad. And how every time it almost slipped past his tongue, it actually melted on it instead. He knows what he and Nick have, and what they’re doing, is entirely different. He meant it when he told that to Nick last night. But he can’t help but feel the words melting in his tongue again.

            Charlie clears his throat, “so, you’ve slept with Amaya. Do you like her?”

            He knows they’re both aware of what he’s doing, but given the conversation they’ve just had, he expects Amy to respect it anyway.

            She does.

            “I liked fucking her.”

            “Jesus, Amy,” Charlie wrinkles his nose, “you don’t have to be such a lad about it.”

            Amy chuckles, “I can’t help it sometimes! But fine. I liked having sex with her. A lot. And I’m still trying to figure out how I feel about the rest of the stuff. All I know is, I wouldn’t mind it happening again. But unfortunately, my conscious is yelling at me about that right now.”

            “And what is it telling you?”

            “That I probably shouldn’t do that until I’ve talked to Nick about it.”

            Charlie hums, understanding that Amy is right in believing that would probably be the right thing to do.

            “I honestly thought she’d already done that and that was what you wanted to talk to me about at first,” Amy reveals, and now her relief over Charlie mentioning Jess’ name earlier makes sense, “But I guess she hasn’t gotten there yet. You know him well though, do you think he’d care at all?”

            Charlie ponders on the question internally before answering her. The truth is, Charlie’s not sure if Nick would or wouldn’t care. What he’s more aware of is how much it burns him inside at the mere thought of Nick caring. Because him caring or minding at all would be a jealousy that would have to stem from some sort of possessiveness he’d still feel over Amaya. Something that makes Charlie sick to his stomach. Because now that he’s had Nick, anyone could have anyone Charlie’s ever even spoken to, and he wouldn’t blink an eye at it. He wouldn’t lose sleep over it. Charlie potentially not having the same effect on Nick would feel like a stab wound he’s not sure the blood would ever stop gushing out of.

            “I’m not sure,” Charlie answers eventually, “I would hope think not. But I do think this is probably a conversation you should have with him directly. Or Amaya, I guess.”

            “Probably,” Amy sighs, “and I guess one of us will. Or maybe both of us will. I guess I’ll talk to her about it. I do doubt he’ll care, but it is the right thing to do. And like I said before, I genuinely like him.”

            Yeah, me too. Way too fucking much, probably, Charlie doesn’t say. Instead, he just smiles at Amy, and Amy smiles back. For the first time in weeks, everything feels like it’ll be okay. The tides are changing, but all the change being brought about feels positive.

            “I’m glad we talked,” Charlie says, feeling genuine appreciation for Amy.

            “Me too,” Amy replies, “and if you don’t have plans for the rest of the evening, you could stay in here and watch ‘Friends’ with me and I could tell you all about what you missed last night.”

            Charlie would really like that.

            “I’d love that,” he tells her, “just – don’t tell me anything about you and Amaya. I just – I want that to be a conversation between you and Nick, or Nick and Amaya, and I don’t want to feel like I’m keeping something from him. If that makes sense.”

            “I’ll spare you the gory details until one of us has spoken to him.”

            “Maybe even after? It is a bit… weird.”

            They laugh together. Both at the situation they’ve somehow found themselves in. And then they don’t say anything else about it. For the rest of the evening, Charlie remains in Amy’s bedroom. They keep the program playing in the background as Amy catches Charlie up on everything he missed the previous night. From the rugby lads getting on the bar top and dancing as they got shots poured down their throats from the bartenders to Cristian and Daisy having a three way make-out session with a girl on the dance floor, to everything in between. Charlie doesn’t share his own experience from the night before, but in the back of his mind remains every single touch, look, and kiss from one Nick Nelson, no matter how hard he tries to keep it down.

            An almost full forty-eight hours pass by of Charlie not being in Nick’s presence, and Charlie is not dealing well with that fact. He’s starting to feel like a drug addict who’s trying to get clean but very much going through withdrawals. It’s ridiculous, he knows. He’s gone much longer at not being in Nick’s presence after being in it and he’s survived. He’s been fine. But he’s afraid that might never be his reality again. Not with this one they’ve created. Not with these new memories that continuously linger in his mind. Not with these feelings bubbling and brewing inside his chest.

            Nick was right. They are addictive. And Charlie is feeling the effects of coming down from their high the longer the drought persists.

            He imagines himself showing up to Nick’s door. He imagines Nick opening it up, a look of surprise and relief on his face the moment he realizes it’s Charlie knocking. He imagines him with his hair wet, matted to his forehead just like it had been when he pushed Charlie up against that brick wall outside of the club. And then he imagines himself being the one to push Nick against his own bedroom wall, allowing his tongue to explore every inch of skin he can and drowning in those delicious groans Nick makes.

            He imagines, and imagines, and imagines but his imagination is letting him down. He wants the real thing. The problem is, getting the real thing is not as easy. Not when they’re trying to be lowkey about this new relationship they’re exploring. What’s even more frustrating is that even though they’ve been in constant communication since Saturday night through text, Nick hasn’t brought the idea of them reconnecting in person up. Charlie doesn’t want to come off as pushy or needy, so he doesn’t either. But he can’t help but feel jaded about Nick not doing so. And he can’t help but feel worried that he hasn’t brought it up because it’s not quite affecting him to the degree that it is Charlie.

            Charlie falling for Nick at a much quicker pace than Nick is falling for Charlie is a fear that continues to lure in the corners of his mind. A fear that Charlie is well aware has the potential to break him.

            He tries to push all thoughts tied to Nick Nelson aside as he scrubs the day’s waste away in his shower. He plays loud music, he wills himself not to check his texts, and he tries to disconnect. It hardly works, but the thirty minutes he gives to himself to get ready for bed calm him enough to be ready for sleep.

            When he opens his text thread with Nick to finally text him back and tell him goodnight, he almost gasps at the messages he sees.

Nick N.: I know we’re seeing each other on Wednesday for our tutoring session, but do you think we can meet up tomorrow morning? I can buy you coffee and walk you to your first lecture of the day :)

Nick N.: I can’t stop thinking about you. I miss your face. Your voice. Honestly, all of you.

Nick N.: Sorry if that sounded creepy lol and if you can’t tomorrow I totally get it!!

Charlie looks at the times Nick sent each message. The first two are less than a minute apart but the third is about ten minutes after the first two. Charlie knows his lack of an instant reply must have made Nick feel self-conscious about his proposition to meet up and his vulnerable confession of missing Charlie like he seems to be. Little does he know it’s all Charlie’s been wanting to hear from him for the past almost two days.

Charlie S.: it didn’t sound creepy at all. i miss you too xx. coffee sounds great tomorrow ☺️

His text doesn’t nearly convey just how desperately he misses every part of Nick too. And now, how excited he is for the night to pass by and morning to come. But Charlie thinks he needs to mind himself. He needs to be careful how eager he comes off. He knows Nick doesn’t have any intention of hurting him, but he still doesn’t want to so openly show Nick just how much power he truly has over him. Even if it doesn’t change the actual fact that Nick very much does, holding Charlie in the very palm of his hand, it helps with the illusion that Charlie might have some control in their dynamic.

Nick N.:  Awesome! What time should I pick you up at your flat?

Charlie S.: my first lecture starts at 08:15am so maybe like 7:00am-07:10am?

Charlie S.: should give us enough time to grab coffee and hang for a bit x.

Nick N.:  Perfect. I’ll be there at your door at 07:00am on the dot 

Nick N.:  Fuck I can’t wait to see you x.

Charlie feels like a schoolgirl crawling under his duvet, smiling at his phone as he reads the messages from Nick. He can’t help the giddy feeling that overcomes him at Nick’s blatant expression of missing him.

Charlie S.: me either x. tomorrow can’t come soon enough

Nick N.:  I want to sleep now so it can be tomorrow already, but I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep now with how excited I am

Charlie S.: excited or excited? 👀

Nick N.:  The thought of you always makes me both x

Charlie all but stops himself from squealing into his duvet. He misses just physically being around Nick, but he also can’t lie to himself and deny that he misses touching him in ways that only existed in his mind up until two nights ago.

Charlie S.: sucks that we won’t be able to do anything about the other excited tomorrow

Nick N.:  I know but hopefully soon.

Nick N.:  Like hopefully very, very soon lol.

Charlie laughs to himself, understanding the desperation he imagines Nick to be feeling because he feels it all over himself. He falls asleep texting Nick back something far less seductive and wakes up with his phone in his hand and a reminder that he’s going to see Nick in person within the next hour. It prompts him out of bed immediately. Where it usually takes Charlie a couple of snooze fests to get out of bed, once his first alarm goes off, he’s sprung on his feet. He showers, although he took a shower the night before bed. He does his curls with all the products he has, making sure his hair looks the best it ever has. He brushes his teeth aggressively and uses his mouth wash, even though he’s sure there will be no kissing since they’ll be in public. Charlie still wants to be prepared in case the rare opportunity presents itself. He uses moisturizer on his face and elbows. He wears his favorite black, ripped skinny jeans and a plain white shirt over his favorite denim jacket. He looks better and brighter than he ever has for any of his morning lectures thus far, and he knows it’s all for Nick Nelson, but he can’t bring that to matter. By the time Nick texts him that he’s outside, at exactly 07:00am, Charlie feels his hands shaking in anticipation of seeing him. Of being around him again.

It feels like the first time they ever hung out all over again. In some way, it is, since it’s the first time they’re hanging out as this new thing they’ve become.

Charlie’s walking out of the door before any of his roommates are up, which is a blessing. With how nervous he feels, for whatever reason, the last thing he’d need is Amy throwing him all-too-knowing looks or Jess looking at him like she’s not understanding.

When he walks out, the first thing that comes to his vision is the sight of Nick Nelson standing right outside his door. And what a marvelous sight it is. It’s one Charlie can get used to walking out his door to every day. If the first person he sees every morning is Nick Nelson, he’s sure it’ll be a good morning.

Charlie doesn’t miss the way his heart seems to pick up speed at the sight of him. He doesn’t miss the way his face contorts itself into one of delight, his mouth immediately turning upwards into a beaming smile. It’s all instinctual – Charlie unable to help his body’s natural reaction to Nick.

Nick, who looks so good standing there with his hands in the pockets of his all-black gym shorts. A ribbed black tank top showing off those muscular arms of his and hugging his physique in a way that reminds Charlie of what all those muscles felt like underneath the palm of his hands. His face is even more captivating, those warm amber eyes staring at Charlie all starry-eyed. His mouth beaming right back at him too.

“Hi,” Nick greets him.

Charlie fully steps out of his flat, “hi. It’s nice to see you.”

“I don’t think I have a word to describe how good it feels to see you,” Nick immediately replies.

I am so fucked, Charlie reminds himself.

Charlie giggles, feeling self-conscious and shy at Nick’s flattering words. He takes the moment his back is to Nick as he locks his flat’s door to compose himself. It really does feel like he’s fourteen again, discovering what it felt like to like someone else as more than just a friend.

When he turns, he’s only slightly surprised to find Nick standing a bit closer to him. There’s only a couple of inches in between them, and when Charlie looks up at Nick, he can’t help the way his eyes land on his mouth.

“I like your jacket,” Nick compliments him.

I like everything about you.

“Thanks,” Charlie says, bringing his eyes back to Nick’s, “it gets cold in my lectures sometimes.”

“I’m sure,” Nick smiles down at him, “hopefully a coffee will warm you up.”

“Perhaps,” Charlie replies, smiling back, “are you off to the gym after?”

Nick shrugs, but doesn’t create any space between them, “I don’t have lectures till almost noon. Figured if I’d be up, I’d go get an early morning gym session.”

“Oh. I didn’t know you didn’t have lectures until much later. You definitely didn’t have to be up so early for me,” Charlie says, a bit of guilt seeping into him at Nick being up early for his sake.

“Charlie, I wanted to be up this early to see you. I don’t think I would’ve lasted another minute, much less another day.”

Charlie rolls his eyes playfully, trying to give off a nonchalance he surely doesn’t feel, “you’re exaggerating.”

“I wish I was,” Nick tells him, “But I really was dying to see you.”

“Well, here I am.”

“That you are.”

Nick lifts a hand, and just as Charlie thinks it’s going to caress his face, just as he thinks he’s finally, finally, going to feel Nick’s touch again, Nick drops his hand back to his side quickly. Charlie sees the shift in the look in Nick’s eyes in that moment. Where they were once staring at him starry-eyed, there’s something that comes over them that washes over that look. That creates a distance between them Charlie wishes didn’t exist.

 Nick clears his throat and takes a step back.

“Sorry,” Nick apologizes, though Charlie’s not sure what for, “Um. Coffee?”

Charlie wants nothing more than to pull Nick back in. To grab him by his shirt and press their lips together. But he knows that would be the last thing Nick would want. So, he nods instead, like if they both want the same thing.

“Yeah,” Charlie says, “sounds good.”

            A moment later, they turn and start walking side by side to campus café. Charlie thinks about knocking his shoulder into Nick’s with every step they take. Desperate to feel that static of electricity that comes about each time they physically connect. But Charlie doesn’t do it. For the fear that it would make Nick uncomfortable, or worse, make him feel like Charlie is incapable of respecting his boundaries. He finds himself continuously stealing glances Nick’s way though. Unable to help himself in that department. He doesn’t stop and stare for the sake of not tripping over his own two feet or coming off creepy, but his eyes keeping flicking Nick’s way. The only comfort he finds in the action is that Nick seems to be falling into the same trap.

            “Do you usually start your day with coffee with lectures this early?” Nick asks.

            “When I have lectures this early, yeah,” Charlie answers, “but not all my lectures are this early. You actually picked the day where I have my earliest lectures.”

            Nick huffs out a laugh, “wow, really?”

            Charlie nods as they exchange a smile.

            “I just make the best decisions, don’t I?”

            “Sometimes,” Charlie tells him.

            “Well, in any case,” Nick turns his head to look at Charlie, and Charlie finds himself doing the same, “any decision I make that leads to getting to spend time with you is a good one.”

            “Sappy,” Charlie teases.

            “Oi,” Nick replies, but neither of their smiles leave their faces.

            The walk to the café isn’t a long one, and they make it there in under ten minutes. Given how early in the day it is too, the line to order is also quite short. They stand side by side as they wait to order, and as Charlie’s hand hangs off his side, he realizes how close it is to Nick’s own hand. He can’t help but look down at them and fantasize about a time where he wouldn’t have to hold himself back like he is now. Where he wouldn’t have to keep his hand to his side, and not reach out for Nick’s. Not intertwine their fingers and bring their palms flush against one another’s in way that would feel both electrifying and soothing at the same time. Because that’s what touching Nick feels like – lighting in a bottle that wipes away any disorder he might ever feel.

            “Char,” he hears Nick say above him.

            Charlie snaps his head up, meeting Nick’s gaze with his own.

            He blinks, “sorry, did you say something?”

            Nick gives him a lop-sided smile that looks far too good on his mouth, “I did. I actually asked you what you usually order.”

            “Oh, I—” and just as Charlie is about to answer, the barista calls them up the counter.

            Charlie gives Nick a shrug, and Nick gives him a smile and a shake of his head.

            “Morning,” their barista – Joe as per his nametag – greets them, “what can I get you lads?”

            “Good morning,” Nick says in return to the barista, then he angles his body towards Charlie and asks, “Charlie, what would you like?”

            It’s such a small thing. Such a tiny, miniscule detail. Nothing to fawn or think about endlessly over. And if Charlie were anyone else, he probably wouldn’t do either of those things. But Charlie is Charlie, and Nick is Nick. And him allowing Charlie to order first even though he’s the one who the barista asked initially is such a kind, selfless, Nick Nelson thing to do and Charlie can feel himself free falling every second that he gets to be in his presence.

            Charlie blinks, bringing his feet back on the ground where they definitely belong. He turns his head from Nick to the barista to allow himself to concentrate enough to order without tripping over his own tongue.

            “Um, a brown sugar, oat milk latte, please,” he says.

            The barista gives him a curt nod and then pushes some buttons on his screen before he returns his attention to Nick, “and you?”

            Nick’s too busy looking at Charlie like he’s in awe of him to answer right away.

            “I feel like my order is going to be so bland compared to yours now. Feeling a bit self-conscious about it.”

            Charlie giggles, unable to help the sound from erupting with the emotions Nick brings about him, “oh, please. Just order.”

            The barista sighs, loud so they can both hear, “yes, please. We’ve got other customers.”

            The tone of annoyance he gives them seems to be the only reason Nick is able to pull away from the moment with Charlie. Nick turns then, to face the barista and place his order.

            “Just an ice coffee, please. Regular milk is fine,” Nick orders.

            The barista gives him another curt nod, pushes more buttons into his screen, and then gives them the total.

            Charlie immediately reaches for his wallet inside his backpack, but then stops dead in his tracks when he feels Nick’s hand on his forearm, “I’m paying,” Nick tells him.

            Charlie’s more stunned by the touch, feeling instant heat from it, than he is with Nick’s offer. Nick has always offered to pay whenever they’ve shared anything together, so that part isn’t brand new. And the touch itself isn’t brand new either. Before the other night, they’d touched before. They’d even hugged before. But something has changed between them since then. If it wasn’t obvious before, it’s obvious in the way Nick’s touch feels brand new. In the way that, even though they’re standing in the middle of a crowded room ordering coffee, Charlie can hardly help himself from lunging at Nick. From feeling all of Nick’s body aligned and touching his.

            It’s fucking criminal what you do to me.

            “Okay,” Charlie manages to get out.

            Nick removes his hand from Charlie’s skin a moment later, leaving Charlie feeling emptier than he was before. Nick pays, and they move to the side as they wait for their orders to be ready.

            “Thank you,” Charlie says as they wait.

            “No need to thank me, Char,” Nick says earnestly, “but you could apologize for making my order look incredibly inferior to yours.”

            Charlie laughs, “It isn’t my fault you have such a basic coffee order.”

            Nick gasps like he’s truly offended, “that’s rude.”

            “But true,” Charlie points out, “and also, of course there’s a need for me to thank you. You literally just paid for my coffee.”

            Nick waves him off, “do you know who my dad is? The one good thing I can get out of him is his money that he so graciously shares. And because he shares it with me, I get to pick who I share it with. I plan to very much share it with you and pay for a lot of things in this – well. You know, this. Um.” Nick continuous to stumble over himself until he possibly can’t anymore, and he starts coughing into his fist like he’s choking on something.

            Maybe he is.

Maybe he’s choking on the very same word he won’t dare speak out loud but drums in both of their bones.

Relationship. Relationship. Relationship.

Charlie knows why Nick won’t call it that. It’s too soon, and too unknown. But he knows they can both feel it brewing between them.

Nick composes himself enough that by the time the barista yells out his name to signal that their orders are ready, he jumps to go grab them. Charlie can’t help but smile at Nick. Because as gone as Charlie can feel himself becoming, Nick’s actions continue to show him he’s not that far behind.

But he could easily fall behind. So, don’t start feeling special before you solidify that you are.

 Charlie shushes the voice away as Nick hands him his coffee order.

Charlie takes a sip and immediately feels warmer, “so good,” he says mostly to himself, “want to try it?”

“Don’t patronize me,” Nick playfully says, “but yes.”

Charlie giggles, and realizes he finds himself doing that a lot in Nick’s company, before handing the coffee over and letting Nick take a sip.

“Fuck this is so much better than my basic iced coffee,” Nick admits, looking annoyed with himself.

“You can order it next time,” Charlie offers.

“Oh, I definitely will,” Nick tells him, “Let’s go find somewhere to sit so you can thoroughly enjoy your coffee and I can pretend mine is half as good.”

Again, Charlie finds himself laughing at whatever Nick says, “okay.”

 They make their way through the courtyard, and Nick eventually picks a table underneath one of the trees. Charlie lets Nick pick his own seat first and then he sits across from him even if what he’d really like is to sit on Nick’s lap. Be as physically close to him as possible. He knows it isn’t possible, not right now, so it’s better to create space between himself and temptation.

“So, what even is your lecture this morning?”

“Political science,” Charlie answers as he sips his coffee, and the sun begins to fully ascend into the sky.

Nick whistles, “good thing we got you that coffee then. Political science isn’t a lecture I’d ever even want to get near. What’re you majoring in?”

“English lit.”

Nick looks impressed. Charlie feels his stomach do a summersault.

“Wow. You are proper smart, huh?” Nick says with nothing but admiration behind his every word that makes Charlie’s cheeks turn a natural shade of pink.

“I mean, I don’t think so. A lot of people are English lit majors.”

“A lot of smart people.”

“Stop it,” Charlie tries to steer the conversation away from him, “what are you majoring in? I’m sure rugby isn’t an actual study.”

“I’m actually majoring in education,” Nick replies, and Charlie is a bit surprised by his answer. It makes him wonder just how many pieces of Nick he was missing before this. Before they became whatever it is that they’re becoming. He wants to know everything about him. Every single detail that makes him who he is and who he isn’t.

If it feels like a rare opportunity to be in a position where he now has the luxury of being privy to those details.

“Wow, that’s – I didn’t really expect that, to be honest. Do you like it?”

Nick gives him a simple lift of one shoulder, “It’s not very hard, which if I’m being honest is why I picked it in the first place. I needed something that wouldn’t take up too much time from rugby.”

“I see,” Charlie says understandingly, “but do you happen to like the idea of teaching at all?”

Nick looks contemplative before answering.

“I don’t not like it,” he eventually says, “I do like the idea of being able to teach someone something they didn’t know before. But I don’t know if I quite have the patience for it. People can be insufferable.”

“Adults, yes,” Charlie agrees, “but not kids. Kids can be fun to teach.”

  Nick looks at Charlie like he’s just revealed the eighth wonder of the world to him.

“I honestly… hadn’t thought about that before. I actually really like teaching kids stuff. I’ve done some volunteer work before at a local youth rugby camp back home in the summer, and it was really enjoyable teaching them how to play.”

Charlie beams, “you see? Maybe education is the right move.”

“I don’t really think it matters all that much anyway. The idea is to end up playing pro-rugby, not end up in a classroom.”

 Charlie feels the lines around Nick’s future bleeding into their present. Not just whatever it is that they’re creating together, but whatever Nick feels he can create for himself because his future has been mapped out for him for so long. He knows Nick has always felt like he’s never had a choice in it. He has to go pro. He has to meet that expectation. Or at least, he believes it so much it might as well be true. Charlie’s not sure he’s the right person to show him otherwise. He’s tried, in small moments in the past. But Nick’s always bulldozed through it. Charlie’s not sure anyone could change his mind about it, if he’s honest. He thinks maybe this is something Nick has to come to terms with on his own. So, he doesn’t push it.

“Well, in any case, I think you’d be a wonderful teacher.”

“Oh, yeah?” Nick smiles, “why’s that?”

“Because you are patient. You’re kind. You’re—”

“Not very smart.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Not like you, English lit major.”

“It’s really not that impressive. I’m sure you’ve met and known plenty of English lit majors.”

“Not any as smart as you,” Nick winks at him over the rim of his cup, and then he takes a long swig that makes Charlie stare at the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, “what does one do with an English lit degree?”

Charlie takes a sip of his own coffee before answering.

“There’s a variety of things you could go into. I’m particularly interested in publishing.”

Nick gives Charlie a look that Charlie’s not sure the meaning behind. There are whispers in his eyes that Charlie would like to hear poured out of his mouth.

“I could see you in that. I could see you in anything, really. You’re smart enough to do whatever it is you’d want to do.”

“Alright, you’ve called me smart like fifty times in the last five minutes. You can stop now.”

“But you are smart. Like super smart, actually. And attractive. Probably the prettiest human I’ve ever seen –”

“Nick.”

 “And” Nick continues ignoring Charlie’s protests. But then pauses for a moment, licking his lips in a way that almost puts Charlie in a trance before he says what he says next.

“You have a really nice dick.”

Charlie almost spills his drink over. And it sends Nick cackling.

Charlie looks around, making sure no one was close enough to hear every word that just stumbled out of Nick’s mouth. He’s not surprised to find the courtyard almost completely empty. Any other person around them is just walking through and too many feet away to have heard any part of their conversation.

“Sorry, I couldn’t help myself,” Nick says once he’s calmed down from laughing.

“You like getting me flustered.”

“I just like you,” Nick clarifies and Charlie’s heart stammers, “I didn’t really realize how much more difficult it would be to be around you now. You know, after Saturday. It’s almost worse than it was before.”

There are more whispers in Nick’s eyes that speak volumes in Charlie’s mind. Words sloshing around that neither of them needs to say. They can both feel it. Charlie’s eyes trail down Nick’s face to his mouth again, before he returns his gaze to Nick’s eyes.

“That I can agree with.”

 Just then, a thought pops up into Charlie’s mind. He doesn’t immediately speak it out loud. He thinks he’ll save it for just before they part so that if Nick turns down the idea all together, Charlie doesn’t have to sulk in front of him.

They sip more of their coffees as they talk more about Charlie’s major and what his career path entails. Nick listens, and listens, and asks questions and it makes Charlie feel like he’s genuinely interested in every word Charlie has to say. It’s a direct contrast to anything Charlie’s ever been used to. He knows he doesn’t have much experience in the relationships department – Ben should hardly count, and Charlie has regarded everyone after him as just a good time – but he feels like whatever he’s creating with Nick is different in the best way.

After about fifteen minutes, Charlie looks at the time on his phone and has to reluctantly tell Nick he needs to get to class. Nick looks just as disappointed by the news, but they both knew their morning was going to be short lived.

They stand and walk side by side again as Charlie leads them through campus to his lecture. As they start approaching the classroom, Charlie’s steps start to become slower. He thinks about the idea that had popped into his mind as they sat down having coffee and runs through the best way to articulate it in his mind. It sends nerves to prick his skin.

They turn to face each other, and Charlie feels his heart beating loudly in his chest. Almost like it’s begging to escape. The part of his brain that is sometimes mean to him pokes fun at his situation slightly, knocking down his confidence from speaking to his earlier idea right away.

If he weren’t so ashamed of you, this is the part where he’d kiss you goodbye, it says.

Charlie tries his best to ignore it and listen to the part of his brain that reminds him he’s worthy of everything he desires.

“Thank you for joining me for coffee,” Nick says, giving Charlie the same lop-sided grin that haunts his every waking thought.

“Thank you for inviting me. And paying.”

“Both of those things were truly my pleasure,” Nick’s eyes search Charlie’s as they stand face to face, and Charlie wonders what he’s looking for, “as happy as I am to have seen you and spend time with you, I have to be honest. It wasn’t nearly enough.”

Charlie feels himself unwind like a coil coming undone. It’s like Nick’s words melt every single kind of insecurity his brain feeds him about them. About Nick’s feelings for Charlie. It brings back the confidence for Charlie to say what he’s been holding back from for too long.

“I was actually thinking…” he starts.

Nick cocks his head to the side, raising a brow in the form of a question.

“Well, we have our tutoring session tomorrow. And I was just thinking that maybe instead of going to the library you could… come over?”

Charlie lets the words settle between them. Let’s the idea ruminate enough. When Nick turns his head back upright but doesn’t answer right away, Charlie feels the need to explain.

“It’s just – well, it would give us privacy that the library obviously wouldn’t. And this was very nice and all but like you just said – not enough. Plus, I saw your room, so I think it’s only fair for you to get to see mine? But I totally get if maybe you think it’s weird because my flat mates might be there, and we’ll be locked in my room, and it might –”

“Charlie,” Nick stops him with his name hanging off his lips, “that sounds like a great idea. And the fact that you thought of it, and I didn’t just proves how much smarter you are.”

Charlie rolls his eyes playfully, then, lowers his voice enough so only Nick can hear him, “is that like a turn-on for you?”

Nick pulls his bottom lip into his mouth with his teeth. A gesture that sends Charlie’s eyes right back down to his mouth. Nick releases it a moment later, and all Charlie can imagine is doing what he just did with his own teeth.

 He’s only brought out of his thoughts when Nick answers, “wasn’t that obvious?”

Every time Nick compliments him for all the things Ben would tease him about, Charlie feels parts of his wounds that have scabbed over becoming fully healed. But even then, his wounds remain. And Charlie still isn’t great at being littered with compliments without feeling slightly uncomfortable. Or unworthy.

“I should probably get to my lecture now,” he says, cutting the moment short.

“Yeah,” Nick agrees, “I don’t want you to be late.”

Charlie nods like that matters as much as getting spend time with Nick does, “thanks for everything again and um, have a good work out.”

“Stop thanking me,” Nick breathlessly laughs, “and thank you. Have a good lecture.”

“Thanks.”

Charlie wants nothing more than to reach up and cup Nick’s face in his hands. Get up on his tippy toes and plant a soft kiss on Nick’s mouth. He knows that none of that is possible. And none of it is going to occur. Instead, they’re going to go their separate ways without a mere touch. It’s torturous, but the thought of having Nick alone in his room in only twenty-four hours is enough to keep him afloat.

Nick starts walking away first, his feet heading backwards while his eyes stay fixed on Charlie’s.

“I’ll text you,” he tells him.

“Okay,” Charlie smiles.

Nick continues to walk away without glancing back for a couple of more steps until he’s forced to turn around to not run into someone by mistake. Charlie only allows himself to stare at his back for a couple of seconds before turning on his own heel to get to his lecture.

As he walks through the door of his classroom, there’s only one thought swirling in his mind. Parting any dark cloud that could’ve ever lived there.

This is what falling in love is supposed to feel like.

Charlie feels himself hanging off the edge of a very tall, very narrow cliff as he waits for Nick to come over. It’s five forty-five in the evening, and he and Nick agreed he’d come over by six. The timing wasn’t incidental, and in fact, it was meticulously picked out by Charlie. He doesn’t feel great about missing his weekly LGBTQ+ society club meeting, but he couldn’t pass up the opportunity it would present for him and Nick if he did. All his flat mates would be in attendance, which meant that Nick and he would have the place to themselves. Even though Nick made it perfectly clear he didn’t mind anyone being home and him being over, Charlie still wants a bit of privacy without the worry of any of his roommates accidentally, or purposefully, hearing them doing anything that isn’t strictly platonic. And Charlie can’t deny that he hasn’t stopped thinking about doing those things with Nick again.

He doesn’t really understand what’s come over him. Sure, ever since he got to Leeds, he’s found sex far more enjoyable than he ever did back home – giving his one horrible experience and then the absolute lack of experiences afterwards. But it still hasn’t felt like it does now. He feels voracious when it comes to his intimacy with Nick. Absolutely starved by his touch. Or lack thereof.

As much as Charlie pretends to not know why or how it’s different with Nick, in actuality he’s not as confused by it as he might try to fool himself into believing. His mind reminds him that a big part of the reason why he finds himself continuously craving that physical intimacy with Nick is because it runs much deeper than just that. It isn’t just surface-level lust like it’s been with the guys he’s hooked up with in Leeds since he got there. There’s a connection between Charlie and Nick that undeniably exists that hasn’t with anyone else. Certainly not with Ben. But not with Daniel either. Nor with the nameless men at the queer clubs. Or with Manny.

Even though all those boys were sweet and caring and enjoyable in their own ways, beside Ben, none of them were Nick. None of them could make his entire body react with a single glance. None of the could light him up from the inside out with a single graze of a hand.

Just the thought of Nick’s touch makes an involuntary shiver run up and down Charlie’s spine.

He’s not sure what the evening ahead of them holds, but he knows what he wants to happen. It’s the reason he spent a bit longer in the shower, scrubbing away the day’s dirt, and has kept his diet light and has eaten as much fiber as possible for whatever can or may happen.

He’s wiping down the kitchen island surface, making sure the place looks as tidy and as clean as possible even though he doesn’t plan for them to spend much time out of his bedroom, when he hears a knock at his door. Immediately, he feels his heart race pick up like it’s training to run a marathon inside his chest. The feeling is so intense and sudden, but it isn’t unpleasant. In its own unique way, it makes Charlie feel more alive than anything else he’s ever felt.

He takes in a deep breath and releases it all in a handful of seconds to compose himself before opening the doors. Just because he can’t stop himself from feeling all these things for Nick internally doesn’t mean he can’t try and conceal them externally. He’s still sure that he has to tread lightly with this thing with Nick. Maybe his heart doesn’t understand that, but his mind, that seems to control most of his actions these days, does.

Charlie walks to his door, fully prepared to see Nick standing on the other side. And yet, when he opens it, and Nick is standing right where he expected him to, is he at all prepared.

He feels almost entirely breathless as he stares at Nick in his doorway with a lilac jumper on and washed denim shorts that stop right before his knee. With his hair perfectly parted to the side, his freckles adorning his every facial feature, and his mouth contorted into a beaming smile that Charlie can’t help but mirror.

“Hi,” Charlie greets him, trying to make sure he doesn’t sound as devoid of air as his lungs certainly feel.

“Hey,” Nick replies.

They stare at each other for a moment, silly smiles on both of their faces before Charlie realizes he’s wasting time and should invite Nick in.

He opens the door wider for Nick to enter, “come in, please.”

“Finally,” Nick teases as he walks by Charlie, his backpack slung against one of his shoulders in a way that makes him look boyishly handsome, “thought I’d have to stand outside for the entire tutoring session.”

Charlie gives him a harmless eye roll, “shut up.”

Once Nick is fully inside, Charlie closes the door behind him.

He feels the anticipation buzzing on his skin once he and Nick are alone. No prying eyes or eavesdropping ears. They haven’t been alone since the last time they were alone. And the memories of time past dance around Charlie’s mind, creating ghosts and phantoms he wants to revisit.

"No one’s home?” Nick asks, turning to face Charlie who still stands by his door.

“Nope,” Charlie answers, not feeling bold enough to take a step forward, “just me. The girls are at the LGBTQ+ society meeting.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Nick says, “that’s today, isn’t it? You skipped it?”

Charlie gives him a small shrug, careful to not give off the weight of his decision, “this felt more important.”

“I could’ve come later,” Nick says, “I wouldn’t have minded.”

The insecurity that lives in Charlie like a never-ending bleeding wound begins to make him doubt himself. Begins to make him feel silly and stupid for pushing aside his meeting for his eagerness to spend more time with him, when Nick clearly didn’t seem as desperate for the same.

That is, until Nick adds, with a step towards Charlie, “not that I don’t appreciate getting to spend more time with you. I want as much time as possible. I just – I wouldn’t want you to think you couldn’t go. For me.”

Charlie truly didn’t think that. He didn’t go for himself. For his own selfish reasons of wanting to be around Nick, in absolutely privacy, for much longer than he would’ve been able to had he gone.

“I don’t think that,” Charlie quickly clarifies, “I really just didn’t care to go. Last time it was a bit awkward with Manny, and well – I also wanted to spend as much time with you as possible.”

Nick seems to pause for a moment.

“Things are weird between you and Manny?” he asks.

Charlie gives him a small nod, “sort of. Last time I saw him it was just a bit… awkward? We didn’t really speak but he was just being – I don’t know. A bit standoffish and avoidant.”

It’s all true. The last time Charlie saw Manny it was at their last LGBTQ+ society club meeting, and the first time he’d seen him since slam poetry night. Manny had been both cold towards him but also extroverted enough to want to garner attention for himself in ways that made Charlie cringe. But Charlie knows that didn’t really play a big role in his decision tonight for skipping. He’s just used it as a way to not sound overly needy.

“Has that been bothering you?” Nick curiously asks, and Charlie thinks they are wasting too much time talking about something as insignificant as Manny.

“As much of a dick as this is going to make me sound like, I am being extremely truthful when I say I really don’t care.”

Nick laughs, “Charlie, it’s okay if you do. I know he was your… friend.”

“I guess someone has suddenly gone hard of hearing, so I guess I’ll say it again,” Charlie exaggeratedly sighs for effect, “I really don’t care.”

Nick laughs again and Charlie can’t help but smile at the sound.

“Fine, you dick,” Nick takes another step forward, and Charlie feels that familiar feeling of fire that overcomes him anytime Nick touches him start to form inside the pit of his stomach, “I was trying to be a good friend.”

Charlie’s lungs feel too small suddenly, but he sucks in air anyway.

“Is that what we are?” Charlie challenges, “friends?”

Nick takes another step forward.

“Of course we’re friends,” Nick answers so confidently, and then he takes a final step forward so he’s standing inches apart from Charlie, “but we’re also so much more.”

            “Yeah?”

            “Yeah.”

            And before Charlie gets a chance to say something like ‘show me then’ Nick takes his face into his hands in a way that is becoming all-too-knowing.

            Charlie leans into the touch on instinct. His lungs collapse in on themselves. The smoke from the flames inside the pit of his stomach taking up all his air as Nick’s touch turns it into a raging fire. He stares up at Nick with love-struck and pleading eyes – two things he can’t help. Nick looks at him like he’s never wanted anything more.

            And then, without a single word, he kisses Charlie.

            Charlie can’t help the way he sighs into his mouth. It’s so much like he did four days ago, when they kissed for the first time. It just feels entirely soothing to be kissed by Nick Nelson. Nick Nelson, who has the softest mouth Charlie’s has ever touched. Who kisses with such delicacy and such passion, Charlie doesn’t know how or when he learned how to kiss like that, but simply hopes he never forgets.

            One of Nick’s hands goes to Charlie’s waist, pulling him flush against his own body as he deepens the kiss with his tongue. Charlie’s hands go to Nick’s shoulders, clawing at the fabric of his lilac jumper and wishing it was off his body. Not just so they could get to the next part of kissing, but so he could be close to Nick. There’s an aching in his bones for it. One that won’t go away until he gets it.

            They kiss slowly and passionately, like they’re pouring all their longing desires that have come about in the last four days, that they haven’t been able to give into until now, in one single kiss.

            Charlie’s hands snake up Nick’s shoulders to the back of his neck, his fingers lighting scratching at the hair there. They’re a mess of limbs and tongue, and Charlie wishes he could stay like that forever.

            They only part when they both need to come up for air. When their mouths release one another, it’s slow and almost reluctantly. Charlie needs to catch his breath, and Nick seems to have to do the same as they rest their foreheads against one another.

            Neither of them speak immediately, basking in the moment they’ve both been likely been dreaming about.

            Charlie knows he has.

            “I missed that so much,” Nick whispers against his skin. It sends goosebumps to form everywhere.

            “Me too,” Charlie confesses, because he’s inhibited enough by their kiss to be fully bare.

            “I wanted to kiss you so badly yesterday,” Nick says, his lips moving against the skin on Charlie’s forehead, “but it was worth the wait.”

            Before Charlie can even reply, Nick is placing a feather-soft kiss on his forehead. It’s so gentle. So caressing. Charlie can hardly stand it. His eyes stay closed as he feels the sparks dancing along his skin from Nick’s loving lips on him.

            He only forces himself to open them when he feels Nick pull away. Charlie’s hands slip away from Nick’s body like they’re going down a landslide. They feel empty without Nick’s weight underneath them, but he lets them drop to his side as he stares at Nick before him.

            “Study time?” Nick smiles at him, “I’m kind of really looking forward to seeing your room.”

            Charlie can hardly give a shit about studying at this point or showing Nick his room if they’re not going to end up underneath his sheets somehow. But he pretends to.

            “It’s nothing special,” Charlie says, “but come this way. My room is right down the hallway.”

            He begs his knees to not buckle into themselves as he puts one foot in front of the other to walk them towards his room. But when Nick says, “everything about you is special to me,” he thinks he might collapse onto the ground.

            He doesn’t know how Nick is so open with his feeling. So willing to wear his heart on his sleeve with Charlie, and how that always leads to him saying some of the sweetest thing that Charlie has ever been told. It’s almost shell-shocking how after their confessions about their true feeling for one another, Nick has become so open and raw about all his feelings towards Charlie. It was the complete opposite before. And though Charlie has his reservations about exposing all his true feelings, he can’t pretend he doesn’t love this version of Nick that constantly shows and tells him how much he likes him.

            He thinks about that as he leads Nick down their narrow hallway until they’re standing in front of his door. Charlie gives Nick a quick smile over his shoulder, unsurprised to find Nick already smiling back at him, and then opens his door wide to let Nick in. He stands with his back to his open door, making a gesture for Nick to step in. Nick does, with a bow of his head and a shy smile on those lips Charlie always feels like he's missing the feeling of.

            As Nick walks into Charlie’s room, Charlie observes the way Nick takes everything in. He looks around, taking in every corner of Charlie’s room. Charlie made sure to clean it and make it as presentable as possible before Nick’s arrival, so it is the thing he feels the least self-conscious about Nick watching. Nick’s eyes lingering longer on Charlie’s bookshelf, filled with some of his favorite books, some of his lecture textbooks, and some of his favorite vinyl's. He walks up to it and Charlie closes the door of his bedroom.

            When he turns, he catches Nick more closely inspecting his bookshelf. He’s crouched down, looking over at his collection of books and vinyl’s. Charlie comes up slowly behind him.

            When Nick feels him, he stands up straight and turns slightly to face him. And it’s always so breathtaking to be standing so close to Nick Nelson. It always feels the same as the first time it ever happened. Almost too good to be true.

            “You have so many books,” Nick obersves. But he doesn’t say it like he’s judging Charlie in any way. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. He says it like he’s impressed by Charlie. In awe of him. And Charlie is still finding it hard to believe that someone like Nick could be so in awe of anything Charlie is or does, because he doesn’t believe anyone even half as great as Nick ever has been.

            “I like to read,” Charlie replies.

            “Mm,” Nick hums, and then his attention returns to Charlie’s bookshelf, and Charlie watches as his eyes skirt around Charlie’s vinyl collection, “and a Fleetwood mac fan?”

            Charlie feels himself grow a bit self-conscious, “yeah. I think they’re very talented.”

            “More than the Beatles?” Nick gives him a playful grin.

            “I mean,” Charlie shrugs, “a bit, yeah. I just love Stevie Nick’s voice.”

            “Wow,” Nick says, mock offended, “what a traitor you are.”

            “Oh, come off it.”

            Charlie knocks his shoulder lightly onto Nick’s and his stomach flips at the contact. It’s always like that whenever he touches Nick, or Nick touches him. He wonders if the feeling will ever stop being so strong or stop altogether. He hopes it doesn’t.

            Nick laughs and looks over at Charlie, stars dancing behind his eyes as he does.

            He clears his throat, “shall we get started, then?”

            “I was actually thinking maybe I could revise a bit before we did? I’d like to brushen up a bit before we officially start,” Charlie answers, though what he really means is, ‘I need a moment to compose myself so I can actually focus on the work instead of you.’

            “Not a problem,” Nick tells him.

            “You could sit at my desk,” Charlie points over to his desk, on the opposite side of the room from where his bookshelf is at that he has perfectly tidied up, “I’ll be on the bed.”

            “You sure?” Nick asks, “I feel like your desk might be more comfortable for you to study on.”

            Once again, Nick’s words cause Charlie’s heart to swell. He’s not used to this. Not used to someone thinking of him first. Caring about him so effortlessly and openly. But he thinks he can get used to it.

            “It’s okay,” Charlie reassures him, “I study on my bed all the time.”

            I’d love to study your body on my bed, actually. Can I? Charlie doesn’t ask, but wishes his tongue had the courage to ask anyway.

            “Okay, then,” Nick says, “but if at any point you feel uncomfortable, I don’t mind switching.”

            “Are you trying to get into my bed, Nelson?” Charlie asks, a playful undertone to his words that he hopes masks just how much he’d like Nick to be in his bed.

            “Maybe,” Nick answers, and just when Charlie thinks Nick will forgo studying for something much more exciting, Nick steps around him, “but right now – study time.”

            Charlie holds back from exhaling his disappointment and nods instead.

            Nick makes himself comfortable in Charlie’s desk, putting his backpack down and taking out his notebooks. Charlie does the same and grabs his notebook from his own backpack and climbs on his bed. He sits cross legged as he opens his French coursework textbook and the notebook where he’s been writing down his notes in. He has all the intentions to study and for the first fifteen minutes he’s pretty engaged in it. He’s doing well, reviewing the phonetics of each of the words he’s supposed to start knowing by heart and translating phrases from English to French with very little guide from his textbook. But then in one of those, he hears Nick groan and when he looks over, he’s stretching his arms above his head in a way that makes his shirt ride up a bit. It exposes the toned muscles underneath his clothing that Charlie knows the feeling of all too well. And it sends him back into a spiral of not being able to focus on anything but Nick.

            Nick doesn’t notice, of course. He’s focused on what he should be. He has his notepad on his lap and is writing down words that Charlie isn’t privy too but would rather Nick kiss them onto his skin anyway. Charlie keeps trying to refocus on his coursework, but his eyes continue to stray back towards Nick. As much as he tries to keep them glued to his notebook, they keep making their way right back. Like they’re floating back to the shoreline.

 His shoreline is Nick Nelson.

And when Nick bites the tip of his pencil, it takes everything in Charlie to remain as he is and not throw everything to the side and mount his lap. Though he imagines it. Oh, does he imagine it. He imagines how good it would probably feel if he was perfectly stretched, and then he eased himself, very slowly, right onto Nick’s thick and throbbing—

“You’re staring,” Nick says, and his voice booms into Charlie’s mind, dissolving the image that he’d just been creating.

Charlie turns his face back to his notebook immediately, “I was not.”

He hears Nick laugh, though he doesn’t dare look over.

“You definitely were.”

“Nope.”

Nick laughs again, and as much as Charlie doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction, he is unable to hold back his smile.

He rolls his eyes, frustrated by his lack of subtly, and looks back at Nick. This time, Nick is already looking right at him.

“Okay, fine,” Charlie exhales, “maybe a little bit. But maybe that’s because I’m waiting for you to do what you came here to do” fuck me, “tutor me!”

Nick’s mouth falls open, “excuse me? You told me you wanted to revise!”

“I did,” Charlie says, “and I have. I’m ready now.”

“Okay,” Nick puts his notepad back on Charlie’s desk and turns his full body towards Charlie, “comment voidrais-tu commencer?”

“Comme vous le souhaitez. Tu es le professeur,” Charlie answers right away. It’s fluent, even if his accent isn’t all too great because he’s still learning. But it’s much better than where he was even a week ago, and he can tell that Nick is impressed by it.

He like impressing Nick, even if he still has a hard time understanding how he does.

“Wow,” Nick says, “that was pretty good. Accent is still a bit,” he puts his hand out and shakes it side to side as if to say ‘so-so’, “but the pronunciation was correct.”

“I’ve been practicing,” Charlie admits, “sorry, nous ne pouvons pas tous etre francais comme toi, professuer.”

Charlie knows the moment he’s hit hook, line, and sinker on Nick’s resolve to maintain a completely studious demeanor. It’s bait on a hook when he delivers his last line, and he can see the moment Nick’s eyes darken and his focus is finally, finally, shifted.

“Fuck,” Nick breathes out hard through his nose, “si vous continuez a m’appeler professuer, nous ne ferons peut-estre pas beaucoup d’estudes.”

Nick still speaks too fluently and quickly for Charlie to pick up on all his words at once, but he understands the gist of what he’s just said – and he knows he has him right where he wants him.

“Maybe I’m more interested in studying anatomy today,” Charlie boldly declares. His patience has left the building. His abrasiveness has entered. He’s apprehensive at first, once the words are spoken, that it won’t be well received. Nick not immediately answering doesn’t help him in that regard. But then Nick stands and walks over to him. Charlie’s eyes follow him closely until he’s standing at the edge of his bed, Nick’s thighs pressing into it as he looks down at Charlie sat in front of him. He lifts a hand and grabs Charlie’s chin gently between his forefinger and thumb.

Charlie’s dick had already started to grow hard inside his pants, but the moment Nick is standing right above him, holding his face in a commanding yet admiring kind of way, Charlie feels like he won’t last another second.

“Tellement beau,” Nick says, and not even a second later he’s dipping his head to kiss Charlie.

It’s passionate the moment their lips touch. Heated with pent up emotion and pining that Charlie can feel dissolving on his tongue the moment Nick parts his lips with his own. Charlie doesn’t need to be told what to do. He quickly discards his notepad and textbook somewhere on his bedroom floor and uncrosses his legs, preening himself up to reach Nick more easily. Just as he does that, Nick crawls onto his bed and over his body. He’s heavy over Charlie, as he kisses him and kisses him until Charlie is drowning in everything Nick, Nick, Nick.

Charlie leans back as Nick crushes him onto his mattress with his own body, a welcoming asphyxiation.

As their heads continue to move to keep up with the rhythm of their kissing, Charlie takes one of those shifts in movement as an opportunity to suck Nick’s bottom lip lightly with his mouth, his teeth pulling with little pressure. He’s done just as he’s fantasized of doing it for the last twenty-four hours. Since he saw Nick suck his own bottom lip into his mouth outside of his first lecture yesterday morning.

Nick’s moan vibrates off Charlie’s walls and makes its way into a hallow space in Charlie’s chest, filling it with a range of emotions. Nick grinds his hips into Charlie’s and Charlie can feel how aroused he is through both of their clothes. It makes Charlie hungry for the taste of Nick in an almost infuriating way, and he’s panting by the time Nick pulls back enough to let them catch their breaths, causing Charlie to release his bottom lip.

“My fucking God, Charlie,” Nick’s breaths come out in small puffs of air, as his chest rises and falls in perfect synch with Charlie’s own, “you have no idea what you do to me.”

            “I want you to show me,” Charlie says, his voice hoarse from all the provocative thoughts passing through his brain.

            “Tell me how,” Nick nuzzles his nose against Charlie’s, “tell me how you want me to show you and I will.”

            Charlie doesn’t tell him right away. Instead, he reconnects their lips once more and starts kissing Nick like there isn’t enough of him for Charlie to have. Nick kisses him back with the same passion, his hands getting lost above them somewhere in Charlie’s hair. Charlie hooks one of his legs over Nick’s calf, and grinds his hips upwards, wanting to feel the friction between them again. It solicits another lewd sound from Nick’s mouth that he pours into Charlie’s and Charlie can’t help it much longer.

            “I want,” Charlie pants against Nick’s lips, “I want you. I want you all over me.”

            It’s almost a careless request – one that doesn’t need to be asked because it’s already being done. Charlie can already feel Nick all over him. Staining his soul, his heart, and his mind with every single touch, every single glance, every single sweet word he’s spoken. But he wants more. Because Charlie can’t get enough. No matter how much of Nick he consumes, he still feels starved.

            Nick doesn’t answer Charlie’s request with words, instead he answers with actions. He lifts himself off Charlie enough to sit back comfortable on his thighs. Charlie takes the silent cue and opens his legs enough for Nick to settle between them. Nick doesn’t take his eyes off Charlie as he discards his lilac jumper somewhere on Charlie’s bedroom floor – anywhere that Charlie would be okay with it staying there forever. He starts undoing his buckle next and it’s probably one of the hottest thing Charlie’s ever witnessed – watching a disheveled Nick Nelson get undressed before him. For him.

            “I think I might come untouched,” Charlie says, the words leaving him without him really thinking about it. Before he can be truly mortified by his bluntness, Nick laughs.

            He slips off his shorts and briefs in a way that only someone as athletic as Nick Nelson would be able to do so effortlessly in their current positions and discards that too. He sits fully naked before Charlie, his exposed cock hard and leaking. It takes all the self-restraint in the world for Charlie not to spring up and lick at it. Take all of Nick into his mouth. He lets himself admire the view, and lets Nick set the pace for wherever he plans to take them.

            Nick climbs over Charlie again, both his arms on either side of Charlie’s head holding him up, “not yet, baby,” Nick says, the nickname rolling off his tongue like he’s trying it on for size. Charlie hopes he likes how it fits, because he sure does.

            Nick leans down slightly to peck Charlie lightly on the lips, “but soon,” he says as he pulls away.

            It lets Charlie know that Nick’s not planning on them having penetrative sex tonight, but that it is in the cards. He’s almost as relieved as he is disappointed by that fact, which is an interesting mixture of contradicting emotions that he doesn’t have the care to unpack in the moment. He’ll deal with what that means later, when he’s on his own and doesn’t have an entirely nude Nick Nelson hovering above him. Now, he just wants to focus on what he does have planned for Charlie.

            Nick’s fingers trace the bottom hem of Charlie’s loosely fitted shirt, “can I take this off?”

            Charlie nods and lifts his hands over his head so Nick can peel his shirt off comfortable. Nick does, but it’s almost at an achingly slow pace. Charlie almost wishes he’d just ripped it off, like a band aid. But no, Nick does it like he’s peeling off something precious and what’s underneath it needs to be treated with as much delicacy as possible. Once Charlie’s shirt is off and lost somewhere, Charlie watches as Nick’s eyes soak him up. Being so on display makes Charlie want to cover himself with his arms. But he doesn’t, because underneath Nick’s gaze he actually doesn’t feel disgusting.

            He almost feels truly beautiful.

            Nicks finger hooks on the waistband of Charlie’s jeans, “may I?”

            Charlie nods again, this time a bit more breathless and eager than before. Nick undoes the button of jeans first, then his zipper, before he’s carefully taking off Charlie’s jeans with the same precision as he had his shirt. It’s like he’s savoring the moment of getting to undress Charlie one item of clothing at a time. Charlie doesn’t think anyone he’s ever been with sexually has ever taken their time like Nick is to undress him. They’ve always just been eager to get him naked, to start the process of sleeping with him. No one’s ever treated him like he’s something worth marveling over like Nick is. It strikes a chord in Charlie that he hadn’t’ expected it to. He tries to swallow the emotion down, not wanting to start dealing with emotions and prolonging whatever comes next. He knows that Nick would never mind it. That Nick would listen and pause and talk, but Charlie wants him now.

            He helps Nick with his briefs, and once his dick is fully free, Charlie’s anticipation grows.

            Nicks hands rub up and down Charlie’s thighs, and Charlie feels like he’s been electrocuted by his touch.

            “I’m so lucky that I get to see you like this,” Nick says, his voice piercing through the quietness of the room, “that I get to have you like this.”

            “You have me,” Charlie tells him, unable to help himself or keep playing it cool. It takes too much out of him, and right now, all he wants is Nick in him. In some way.

            “Le mien,” Nick proclaims.

            He squeezes Charlie’s thighs and then he’s leaning over him again. Their kiss starts off slow. It’s the kind of kiss that only plays out in romantic movies. Where the lead has just declared his burning love for the other lead, and they kiss underneath the pouring rain. It’s not pouring in Charlie’s bedroom, and no one’s made any declarations of love, but the kiss is sparked with so many emotions Charlie can see himself on the TV screen.

            Nick slowly lowers himself onto Charlie, until every single bit of exposed skin is connected. Charlie wraps his arms around Nick, trying to hold him as physically close as possible, and Nick’s hands roam all of Charlie’s flesh. His hands make their way from his chest to his waist to his hair and Charlie can feel himself burning up on the inside from it. He can feel the ache in his bones he felt before, when he was craving this, finally coming to a stop.

            “Nick,” Charlie whimpers.

            “Yes, baby,” Nick says, the nickname embedding itself into their vocabulary, “I’m going to make you feel good.”

            “I want to make you feel good too,” Charlie says.

            “You will,” Nick presses a kiss to the side of Charlie’s mouth, “you always do.”

            “How do you do that?”

            “Do what?” Nick asks, pressing another kiss to Charlie’s cheek.

            “Say the right thing.”

            Nick pulls away enough so he’s looking at Charlie when he replies, “I just say how I feel.”

            Charlie doesn’t know what to say to that, so he stays quiet.

            Nick gives him a soft smile, then plants another gentle kiss on the top of Charlie’s nose before he pulls away again. Charlie doesn’t make grabby hands at him for the sake of not appearing like a five-year-old.

            “Do you have lube?” Nick asks.

            Charlie’s eyes go wide, “I thought we weren’t—”

            “Not for that,” Nick clarifies quickly, “I told you – not yet. This is for how I plan to make you feel good now.”

            Charlie doesn’t know what Nick has planned, but he doesn’t anticipate waiting much longer to find out. He sits up enough to reach into the drawer right next to his bed. His hand rummages through the other items inside until it lands on the bottle of lube he keeps stocked away. He closes his drawer and hands the bottle to Nick.

            Nick grabs the bottle and looks at Charlie with darkened eyes. Charlie can feel the air around them becoming polluted with lust and want, and he breathes in it welcomingly.

            “I want to get us off together,” Nick tells him, his voice low and gravely, scratching corners of Charlie’s mind he didn’t even know existed, “you can grind your hips up, control the pace, but I want to do most of the work. Is that okay?”

            Charlie can’t think of anything better. He also can’t think of ever being able to say no to him.

            “Of course,” Charlie says.

            Nick nods at him, a faint smile on his lips and he uncaps the bottle of lube Charlie handed him. He pours a generous amount of it onto one of his hands. Then, he starts crawling over Charlie’s body again. They’re not flush against one another anymore, but there isn’t much space between them either. Nick lowers himself enough, so their dicks are touching one another, but keeps most of his body weight up with the one hand he didn’t pout lube on. Charlie’s breaths begin to shallow as he just watches Nick make them come apart however he likes.

            Nick starts by tugging at Charlie’s dick first, and Charlie moans unabashedly, unable to help the sound that escapes him.

            Nick’s eye flick upwards towards him, “are you sure your flat mates aren’t home yet?”

            Charlie blinks, “I – I haven’t heard the door. Have you?”

            Nick shakes his head, “no, but as much as I love the noises you make, maybe we should both try to be a little quieter,” he laughs, “you know, for the sake of discretion.”

            Charlie laughs with him, “sorry.”

            “Don’t apologize,” Nick gives him another tug and flicks his wrist at the end, “I love hearing you, Charlie.”

            Charlie can’t help the whimpers that escape him as Nick jerks him off. And then he has to bite down on his hand when Nick takes them both into one of his hands, jerking them both off as their dicks lay flush against one another. It’s one of the hottest, and interestingly, most intimate things Charlie has done with another person. Charlie feels like he’s being put under a spell as he watches Nick’s hand work them both up, his hips also helping with the friction of their dicks.

            Charlie doesn’t know how, as he’s so close to coming already, but he forces himself to come up and take Nick’s face in his hands and kiss him. The kiss is sloppy and messy, as both of them are trying to stifle their noises, as Nick works them expertly. Like he was made for this. For making him and Charlie feel this good with one another.

            Charlie releases all of his inhibitions and shifts them so he is able to comfortable wrap his legs around Nick’s hips, bringing them closer than before. Nick’s hand doesn’t fit in between the lack of space Charlie has brought upon them, so he releases them and drops most of his weight onto Charlie.

            They both start moving their hips in perfect synch, so their dicks are rubbing against one another at the perfect speed with the perfect pressure and everything about the moment is perfect. Nick doesn’t look away from Charlie, instead bringing his mouth so close to Charlie’s they’re breathing the same air. Charlie can feel him everywhere, and it’s almost overwhelming. Almost.

            He wishes Nick was actually inside him. Despite his reservations from before, Charlie wants nothing more than to be as close to Nick as possible. But what they’re doing now is almost even more intimate than penetrative sex. They’re using their bodies to pleasure each other’s bodies, without doing it in the most traditional way and everything about it is as arousing as it is amorous.

            Nick’s breathing starts becoming more and more labored and Charlie knows he’s close.

            “Fuck, baby,” Nick breathes, “I’m so fucking close.”     

            Charlie feels his own muscles in his lower abdomen tense, signaling that he’s also very close.

            “Nick,” Charlie whines, “my fucking God, Nick.”

            Nick pulls away enough to wrap his hand around both of their dicks again like he’d been doing before Charlie pushed them into a more intimate position. He only has to jerk them a handful of times before they’re both coming. Nick comes first, and Charlie comes seconds later. He’s about to cry out, the feeling too intense for him to stifle his noises, but then Nick swallows the sounds with his own mouth. Kissing Charlie and himself through their orgasms.

            They kiss lazily until they both feel themselves return to normal as Nick continues to hold them in his hands until they both soften.

            Charlie unlocks his lips from Nick to collapse back onto his bed, sighing contently.

            Nick laughs above him.

            “Do you have a bathroom where I can maybe wash my hands and get us a washcloth?” Nick asks.

            “Yeah,” Charlie answers, “I can—”

            “No, stay,” Nick insists, “just tell me where to go so I can clean us up a bit. It’s not much. I caught most of it in my hand.”

            Charlie giggles, “door right next to my desk.”

            Nick looks over, spotting the door immediately. He nods and untangles himself from Charlie, standing from the bed and going quickly into Charlie’s bathroom. Charlie hears his sink water running as he stares up at his ceiling, thinking about the series of events that just unfolded. His heart feels full in a way it never has before, but his mind reminds him to be careful.

            He’s not sure he’s in a position to listen to his mind when he’s post-come drunk.

            When Nick returns, he returns with Charlie’s hand towel in his hand. He uses the warm water on it to wipe some of the come Nick wasn’t able to get off Charlie’s lower belly and wipes down Charlie’s dick too. Charlie hisses at the sensation, feeling sensitive from coming.

            Nick smiles at him, before disappearing back into the bathroom. When he comes back a moment later, Charlie is still on his back staring at the ceiling. He feels unable to move. If he thinks Nick will mind and tell him something, he’s proven wrong when Nick climbs into bed next to Charlie, wrapping one arm over his chest and pulling him close. Charlie goes like if being in Nick Nelson’s arms is where he’s meant to be. Nick kisses his hair, and Charlie sighs again.

            “Did you enjoy that?” Nick asks him.

            “I enjoyed it so much that I haven’t been able to move,” Charlie answers, “I think I might’ve come too hard. I can’t even really feel my body.”

            Nick laughs right against his ear, “I love making you feel good.”

            Love, love, love.

            Charlie’s beginning to think Nick is using that word a bit too loosely.

            Charlie lifts his head to look at Nick, “did it feel good for you?”

            One of Nick’s hands grabs at Charlie’s face, getting lost somewhere in the nape of his back and the back of Charlie’s head, “crois-moi quand je ne te dis rien et que personne ne m’a jamais fait me sentir aussi bein que tui.”

            Charlie groans, “I’m too come drunk to compute what you just said.”

            Nick laughs again, “maybe we do need to study a bit more.”

            Charlie rolls over, pressing more of his body weight onto Nick. Not ready to give this up yet.

            “Maybe in like five minutes,” he nuzzles his face into Nick’s neck, reveling in the warmth it provides him both physically and emotionally.

            Nick’s hand scratches the back of Charlie’s head, “okay, baby. Five more minutes.”

            Nick keeps to his word and allows Charlie five more minutes of basking in the aftermath of their intimacy together. And then he forces Charlie up from bed and to get to studying. They both stay on Charlie’s bed for the remainder of their time together. Nick spends the rest of their time together without a shirt and just his briefs on and Charlie with just his t-shirt and briefs on. Charlie tries not to get too distracted, but it’s difficult when someone built like Nick Nelson is sitting so close to him on his bed, half-naked and speaking French. There are times during their session where they get lost in each other’s lips again, but Nick reels them back in each time. Much to Charlie’s annoyance.

            They study, and they laugh, and they kiss, and they talk about nonsense as well and Charlie doesn’t think he’s ever felt so full in his life. Full of love, full of happiness, full of something else that’s indescribable. For two hours and a half, the world is composed of just him and Nick and it’s a world Charlie would be more than happy to live in forever.

            By the time night rolls around and they’re both getting fully dressed to say goodbye, Charlie almost forgets entirely of his flat mate’s existence until Nick starts to kiss him at the front of his bed room door.

            It’s slow and sweet, and Charlie doesn’t realize how much he should have been savoring it all along until it’s gone.

            “Just wanted to kiss you before we walk out,” Nick tells him, “I’m assuming Jess and Amy are home by now.”

            “Oh,” is all Charlie can think to say, not having thought about much else beside them for the last three hours, “probably. Strange we didn’t hear them come in though.”

            “I think we were a bit distracted.”

            “Maybe a bit,” Charlie agrees, his eyes naturally gazing down at Nick’s lips at the implication of their words. Though it wasn’t just a sexual distraction. It was an ‘everything Nick’ distraction.

            Charlie exhales roughly, “alright, let’s go.”

            He turns his hand on the knob of his bedroom door and walks out, Nick following close behind him. He feels the realness of the outside world, the one that exists outside of the bubble he and Nick had just created in his room, hit them the moment they’re outside the four walls of his bedroom. It’s bleaker and not as exciting, and Charlie would want nothing more than to push Nick back into his room and step back into that bubble. But he knows that’s impractical. A version of Charlie and Nick still have to exist in the real world, the one composed of other people. Charlie is still just nervous about what that version of them looks like.

            He doesn’t hear or see anyone immediately, but as they walk out to Charlie’s common room area, Amy pops her head up from where he was seemingly laying down on the couch and says, “hey boys!”

            Charlie jumps and Nick yelps. Amy gives them both a very satisfying, shit-eating grin.

            “Jesus, Amy,” Charlie places a hand on his chest as if to stop it from exiting his body.

            “What?” Amy questions in faux innocence, “I was just greeting you.”

            Charlie rolls his eyes at her, “sure. Did you just get home?”

            “Nope. Been here for a couple of hours just didn’t want to interrupt,” Amy’s gaze flicks between Charlie and Nick, almost suspiciously, “your study session.”

            Charlie could choke her as much as he could thank her for not being too obvious about what she believes is going on between them.

            “Well, thanks for that, I guess.”

            “Mhm,” Amy hums, “was it a good study session?”

            Nick answers, “Yeah, we got a lot done.”

            “I’m sure you did,” Amy smiles brighter and Charlie knows he needs to butt in before Nick starts getting the wrong idea, so he does.

            “How was the meeting?” Charlie asks her.

            “Fine. You know, same old stuff. I really just go because most of my friends are there,” Amy says, and then she’s standing from the couch.

            “Speaking of friends,” Amy looks directly at Nick and Charlie’s heart races at to what he thinks she’s about to say, “I’d actually like to talk to you Nick.”

            Nick looks caught off guard by Amy and Charlie suddenly wishes he wasn’t around either of them. As much as he wants to know how the conversation between Amy and Nick goes when she tells him she’s fooling around with Amaya, he doesn’t want to actually be in the room when it happens.

            “Me?” Nick asks, obviously unaware of any reason why Amy’d want to speak with him.

            “Yup,” Amy confirms.

            Nick looks at Charlie, like he’s hoping Charlie will throw him some sort of lifeline. Charlie gives him a subtle shrug, letting him know this isn’t something he’s able to help him with.

            Nick scratches at the back of his head and clears his throat, “uh, sure. Now?”

            “No, not now,” Amy waves him off, “I’m sure you’re tired from your study session. But is it all right with you if I get your number from Charlie so we can try and meet up sometime this week?”

            Nick’s eyebrows raise, “Of course, it’s all right. But – should I be worried?”

            Amy shrugs like nothing is a big deal, “I don’t think so. I just want to have a conversation with you about something because believe it or not, I kind of like you. As a friend of course. I’m a lesbian and well – you’re not my type.”

            Nick laughs nervously at Amy’s antics, “right, right. Well, um. Yeah, I guess just grab my number from Charlie whenever or I can give it to you now—”

            “Nah, I’m going to go watch Love Island in my room now,” Amy announces, getting ready to head to her room, “but I will grab it from Charlie soon and text you. See ya, Nelson.”

            Before either Charlie or Nick are able to reply, Amy is walking away from them both and out of sight. Once she’s gone, Nick’s head immediately whips around to look at Charlie.

            “Do you have any idea what that’s about?’ Nick asks him.

            Charlie knows he can lie. He can very easily tell Nick he has no clue, but he’s never been much of a liar and something about lying to Nick of all people feels even ickier than just lying in general.

            “It’s not about us, if that’s what you’re worried about. I haven’t told her a thing. Though, and I’m sure you know it – she does suspect,” Charlie says honestly.

            “No, I – Charlie, I didn’t think that. I trust you. And yes, I know she does,” Nick says, “it’s probably not the worst thing. It’ll make it easier when we tell people.”

            If you ever tell people, the mean voice in Charlie’s head snips at him.

            “So, you’ve got no clue?” Nick asks again.

            Charlie doesn’t lie. He can’t.

            “I do,” he admits, “but I really think that’s a conversation the two of you should have without me. I – it’s nothing bad. Or, I hope it’s not.”

            “You hope it’s not?” Nick asks unconvinced.

            “I don’t think it is, and I don’t think you will either, but I also don’t control how you feel.”

            “Okay, this is only making me more nervous,” Nick laughs shakily, “just give her my number, yeah?”

            “I will,” Charlie nods.

            Charlie feels slightly guilty for having Nick worry like that. But he also doesn’t want to get in the middle. He already feels the situation is an entangled web that could easily create a mess. He’d like to avoid that as much as possible. A small, but pivotal, part of Charlie also doesn’t want to tell Nick for the sake of his own feelings. If Nick were to care about Amy and Amaya because of his history with Amaya, Charlie doesn’t know what that would do to his feelings after everything they’ve shared. He’s not certain, but he’s pretty sure it would feel like castles crumbling inside him.

            Charlie walks Nick to his door. He knows their time is ending, and he’d like to end it on a high note.

            They turn to face one another, both with smiles on their faces that feel permanent.

            “I had a good time today,” Nick says, “thank you for inviting me over.”

            “I had a good time too. You should come over more often.”

            “I don’t know why but I have the strong suspicion I will,” Nick gives him a cheeky smile that holds all the secrets of what only the two of them know in it.

            “Looking forward to it then.”

            “Me too.”

            They stare at each other a beat longer until Nick walks out of Charlie’s flat. Immediately the air around Charlie feels colder.

            “I’ll text you,” Nick says over his shoulder, as he makes the short walk to his own flat.

            “Okay,” Charlie replies, as he watches Nick do just that.

            Charlie stays watching Nick until he’s in front of his flat’s door, turning the knob to head inside. They share one more smile until Nick walks into his flat and disappears. Charlie does the same.

            He feels like such a schoolgirl, but he can’t help it. He can’t help the giddiness he feels around Nick, or the happiness he undoubtably brings Charlie. Nick makes Charlie feel like he’s sixteen again, experiencing his first crush that is quickly molding itself into love for the first time ever. In reality, it is the first time Charlie has ever felt this way. It’s so obvious that he never understood love before Nick Nelson.

            He leans against his door with a goofy smile on his face as images of their day together flood through his mind.

            “You are so fucking gone, Spring,” a voice says.

            Charlie jumps again at the unexpected presence of Amy standing across from him in their kitchen.

            Charlie scowls at her, “excuse me, weren’t you going to be watching Love Island?”

            “I am,” Amy replies, “I just needed to get some water. But it seems like you might need it more than me.”

            “Oh, fuck off” Charlie flips her off.

            Amy reaches into their fridge and grabs a water bottle while she cackles. Charlie has to bite back his own laughter as to not give her the satisfaction. She’s still laughing very loudly and obnoxiously as she exits the kitchen and makes her way back to her room.

            “Night, lover boy!”

            Charlie doesn’t reply to her. And truly he’d be far more annoyed with her if half the things she said weren’t true.

            But they are. They so are. And Charlie is totally, extremely, and royally fucked.

Chapter Text

Nick N.: I’m really nervous

Charlie S.: haha, don’t be x.

Nick N.: I just have no idea what this is about.

Nick N.: And don’t take this the wrong way because I do like her, but Amy can be very  intense.

Charlie S.: i know she can be but i’ve told her to be nice to you x.

Charlie S.: almost there xxx.

Nick looks down at Charlie’s text and locks his phone, placing it face down on the table he’s currently sitting in. He’s in the courtyard, which wistfully reminds him of his mornings with Charlie in the last week. They’ve made it a thing to get up earlier than usual in the last week to meet up for coffee before Charlie has to go to his early morning lectures. Something Nick admires him but certainly doesn’t envy him for. It’s the kind of routine Nick could get used to. And it’s the only calming thought he can think of. Ever since Amy told him she wanted to speak to him about something he’s been feeling uneasy. A bit on edge. He believes Charlie when he tells him it isn’t about them, but he’s not very sure what it could even be about then, and the unknown is scary to Nick. And Amy – well she’s even more terrifying. She always seems to know something no one else does, and that’s horrifying for someone like Nick who tries to avoid what he doesn’t understand as much as possible.

He tries not to fidget as he waits, but his leg bounces up and down at the anticipation builds and his palms grow sweaty which is a tell-tale sign that he’s nervous. Very nervous. It isn’t until he looks across the courtyard and spots a certain curly-haired boy that the familiar waves of calmness only one person can bring him with such ease wash over his shores. His mouth instantly twists into a smile at the sight of Charlie, with his plain white tee and his ripped jeans and his perfectly dimpled smile. He’s heavenly, and Nick knows how lucky he is to have some part of Charlie that is reserved for just him.

It's only when he looks at Amy right next to Charlie that his stomach seems to turn back into knots. He focuses his gaze on Charlie as to not become extremely nauseated and not be able to carry out a simple conversation.

When Charlie’s eyes meet his, Nick is overcome with the feeling of wanting to pull him close. Wrap his arms around Charlie, feel his warmth, and bask in this intense thing that they share. It’s becoming harder and harder to not want it. To not give into it. That intimacy that sparks like static between them. It’s not just about the physical intimacy of it all either. Nick has had plenty of meaningless sex to know that intimacy runs much deeper than two bodies connecting. When he’s physically intimate with Charlie, it’s just a way to express the emotional connection they share. But it’s a damn good way to do it. And Nick has become addicted quickly. He knew once he got a taste, the cravings would never stop. But he can tell it’s continuously getting worse. It’s getting harder to be around Charlie and not have their bodies touch in some way.

His desperation is evident in the way he stands when Charlie nears. Like it’s his body’s natural instinct to jump at the chance of being close to Charlie. Taking whatever it can get. When Charlie is finally standing right in front of him, Nick feels like he can breathe and like he’s all out of breath all in one.

“Hi,” he says to Charlie, a smile on his face that he couldn’t help if he tried.

“Hi,” Charlie smiles, those damn dimples making a very public appearance.

The pull is strong, but Nick refrains from doing much more than just dopily smiling at Charlie. Though he wishes he could pull him right in for a lip-bruising kiss.

“Hello Nelson,” Amy says, making herself known, “I know it’s hard to notice other people when you’re bestowed upon the beauty of Charlie Spring, but you’re actually here to meet me.”

Nick is painfully reminded. Not that he minds Amy’s company. He doesn’t and has actually enjoyed whenever they’ve been around each other. It’s more this looming, secretive conversation he’s worried about. That, and that no one holds a candle to Charlie’s company. Unfortunately, Amy is right – when Charlie Spring is around, Nick develops tunnel vision for him and only him.

“I know that, Amy,” Nick gives her a warm smile, “though you’ve quite literally had me at the edge of my seat all week.”

Amy doesn’t look the least bit sorry as she waves him off and takes the seat that is across from him, “don’t be a baby.”

Nick’s eyes nervously flick back to Charlie who is already narrowing his eyes at Amy.

“You said you be nice, Amy,” Charlie tells her.

Amy sighs heavily, like it’s a chore to be nice to Nick, “I will be. But he is being dramatic.”

Charlie rolls his eyes, and Nick feels a bit awkward just standing around and watching their interaction. He only feels calm again when Charlie’s gaze returns to him, and they lock eyes once more.

“Don’t listen to her,” Charlie tries to say helpfully, “it’ll be okay. I promise it’s not that big of a deal. Or at least I don’t think it is.”

“You could keep adding that or,” Nick teasingly says, picking up on the fact that Charlie has done that every time they’ve briefly talked about this pending conversation between him and Amy.

Charlie opens his mouth to say something, and Nick is starting to get to know him so well he can tell he changes his mind about what he’s going to say at the last second and says something else entirely. Nick still wonders why Charlie does that. Why he holds back from giving Nick the full reality of his thoughts. It’s the complete opposite for Nick. Ever since they started whatever it is they’re doing – Nick tries not to think too much about exactly what they’re doing – it’s like he can’t help but tell Charlie exactly what he’s thinking. And it’s usually good things. Good things about how Charlie makes him feel the most he’s ever felt about anything.

“It’ll be fine,” Charlie smiles, “text me after?”

“Of course,” Nick replies and gives Charlie a warm smile he hopes radiates everything else he wishes he could do. Like give him a hug and a kiss goodbye. Hold him for a few more seconds than necessary just because he wants to. Just because he can.

But he can’t. Not really.

Charlie gives Nick a small wave goodbye, and then points his finger at Amy like he’s warning her once more to be kind to Nick as he leaves them be. Nick misses his presence instantly. Not only because there’s truly no one else Nick enjoys being around these days more than Charlie, but also because the moment Charlie is gone from his vicinity, the ferocity of the waves of nerves picks back up. The calmness that Charlie brings him is replaced by the anxiety that just naturally lives in Nick.

Nick takes a seat across Amy, taking in a deep breath as he does. Amy’s eyes are fiercely staring at hm, hidden truths beneath them. As she gives off an aura of dominance and tranquility, Nick feels like he’s cowering like a timid dog.

He clears his throat when neither of them speak right away, trying to dismantle some of the awkwardness looming over them.

“So,” he tries to say as casually as possible, “what’s up?”

“Not much, you know. Just living life, day by day. Waiting for graduation like it’s the bloody inauguration into heaven.”

Nick feels confused. He didn’t expect her to give him an actual, casual, normal conversation response. He expected her to give right into it. Tell him what this is all about.

“Um,” he scratches at his eyebrow, a nervous tick of his, “that’s.. good?”

“Isn’t it?” Amy asks rhetorically, and when she gives him a devilish smile, he knows she’s toying with him.

“Amy, come on,” Nick pleads, “can you just tell me what you’ve been wanting to talk to me about?”

Nick cracks underneath the pressure, and that seems to be entertaining to Amy who bursts out in laughter at his response. Nick can barely return a smile when he feels like he’s on the outside of the greatest inside joke. One that Amy shares between herself and her hidden knowledge.

Once her laughter subsides, she seems to take pity on him.

“Fine, fine,” she relents, “stop looking at me with those puppy eyes like you’re my dog and I’ve just given you a love tap on your ass for peeing on the carpet.”

“I—” Nick starts to say, but Amy quickly interjects.

“Have you spoken to Amaya recently?” she asks. Sudden. Out of the blue.

Nick closes his mouth to think. He doesn’t speak to Amaya often as is. Their friendship mainly entails them randomly texting each other things throughout the day, but ever since Nick and Charlie started their thing, he’s made it a point to not constantly be reaching out. Not because he doesn’t necessarily want to, but he could understand why it would bother Charlie if he was in constant communication with an ex-fling. Just like it would really bother Nick if Charlie was in constant communication with Manny. Even though Nick’s always played it cool when it comes to Charlie and Manny, the idea of them that sometimes lurks in the back of Nick’s mind always makes him stomach feel like a bottomless pit. And he knows it’s all strange and hard to navigate because he and Charlie are really just taking things day by day. They haven’t even spoken about exclusivity or what it means or—Nick stops his mind from reeling.

He breathes in.

“I actually haven’t,” he answers earnestly, coming back through his memories and realizing the last time they really spoke was the night they all went to the club and Nick and Charlie somehow ended up confessing their repressed feelings for one another. And in Nick’s bed.

“Since?” Amy questions.

“The night we all went to ‘Truth’.”

Amy nods her head like she’s processing his answer. Nick remains confused and left wondering even more where Amy is going with her questioning. Or what the purpose of it even is. Or how Amaya ties into any of it.

“Do you feel like you were ever romantically, you know, into Amaya?” Amy asks, and the questions makes Nick’s confusion grow deeper.

He shifts in his sit, his discomfort visible. Again, he’s at a loss to where all her questioning about Amaya is going. And he wants to ask her why it even matters, but he knows better. He knows that if Amy is asking all these questions, it’s because there’s a point to them. What that point is, is what Nick is at a total loss for.

“I wouldn’t say so. I mean,” Nick tries to give her his most honest answer, “I like Amaya as a person but there’s never been… I don’t know. That spark. That romantic connection. Not like,” with Charlie, his brain thinks for him. But his mouth says, “I’ve felt for or with other people.”

Amy’s smirk is telling, “right. Other people.”

Nick says nothing. He knows that Amy’s aware of this thing between him and Charlie. She’s been aware of it even before it was actually a thing. But he won’t confess it to her.

“Anyway,” Amy says, “what about her? Do you think she was ever romantically into you?”

Nick scoffs, “I don’t think Amaya has ever been romantically interested in anyone since I’ve known her. When we were, you know, I think it was just because liked a good time and wanted no commitment and I was just convenient in that way.”

He doesn’t say it like he’s bitter over it, because he’s not. The arrangement they had was exactly what it appeared to be on the surface and in a weird way, Nick is grateful for that. He couldn’t deal with complicated then. He certainly didn’t want to either.

“Cool,” Amy replies, and when Nick expects her to say more, she doesn’t.

Once more, Nick is left feeling awkward in Amy’s presence. Unsure of what this entire conversation is actually about. He can feel something brewing beneath the surface, but he has no idea what it is.

“Why are you asking me so much about me and Amaya?” Nick asks, and though his voice doesn’t quiver when he does, his heart races as it waits her response.

“Well, because,” Amy pauses, and stares at Nick like she’s wondering how to phrase whatever she’s going to say next. Which Nick knows, like sometimes he just knows things in his bones, is going to reveal exactly what this whole thing is about, “we slept together that night we all went to ‘Truth.’ We haven’t since. Not that it’s exactly been long. But – I wanted to talk to your first before it happens again. And to be clear, I do very much want it to happen again.”

Nick’s mouth falls open. He can’t help it. His reaction is genuine, and the news is both shell shocking and entirely unexpected. Out of all the things Nick expected Amy to say, it wasn’t that she slept with Amaya, and wants to continue to do so. He’s never known Amaya to be queer but then again, he has known her to be sexually free. It doesn’t surprise him that she’d necessarily sleep with a girl, but it does surprise him that that girl is Amy.

            “That’s – well. That’s… I mean – it’s – well,” Nick continues to trip over his words, unable to form a full sentence until he just stops talking all together.

            “Yeah, I know,” Amy ends up saying, “I wasn’t really expecting it either. I loathed her until a couple of weeks ago and now I can’t seem to think of anything else than getting her in my bed again. Or getting in hers. It’s weird.”

            That’s one thing they can wholeheartedly agree on.

            “It is, a bit,” Nick admits, “but I mean – stranger things have happened. If you both enjoyed then… congratulations, I guess?”

            Amy laughs, “I know we’ve never really known each other as well as we do now, but I never imagined the most popular guy in uni would be so awkward.”

            Nick’s cheeks flush red, “I think I’m just shocked is all. Sorry, I – maybe congratulating you was a bit weird.”

            “It’s okay,” Amy tells him, “As you said, stranger things have happened.”

            Nick nods, not knowing what else to respond.

            “So, are you fine with it, then? Amaya and I continuing to sleep together?”

            Once Amy asks the questions, it all snaps into place in Nick’s head. Suddenly, everything leading up the conversation makes sense. Amy’s elusiveness to it. Her telling Nick she considers him a friend. Charlie knowing but wanting to remain as a neutral party. Amy’s questioning about Nick’s feelings for Amaya. She’s been, in her own way, looking for his approval for whatever it is she and Amaya have going on. Because of their history, and because, in her own way, she cares about Nick to some capacity.

            It makes Nick smile as much as it makes him feel relieved that it really wasn’t a much bigger deal. Charlie had been right all along.

            “You’re looking for my approval?” he asks, only slightly smugly.

            Amy rolls her eyes and keeps her nonchalant stance though her rigidness of her shoulders gives her away, “not your approval, Nelson. I can do whatever I want. It’s been more like, you know. I consider you a friend or whatever and didn’t want it to be weird.”

            Nick knows all of that is code for exactly what he thinks: she’s been looking for his approval.

            “It’s not weird for me at all. I meant it just now when I said that Amaya and I never had anything that went beyond physical. And it never bothered me when she slept around even when we were actively sleeping together. It would bother me much less now that we haven’t done that in a while.”

            “Good,” Amy says, “I’m glad. Because I truly did enjoy sleeping with her. I can see why you enjoyed it for so long.”

            When Amy draws that comparison, it does make Nick feel a bit weird.

            He grimaces, “okay, perhaps when you put it like that it is a bit weird. I’d rather not think about how we’ve both – you know.”

            Amy laughs again, “fine, fine. That was a bit much, I guess.”

            Nick gives a breathy, nervous laughter, back, “a bit,” and then just as Nick is ready to drop the subject all together, he remembers something.

            “Do you think you like her, or can grow to like her, as a person or all you like it sleeping with her?” Nick asks Amy.

            Amy seems caught off guard, which is not something Nick imagines happens often to someone like Amy. Amy is the kind of person who is so quick witted, she’s always on her toes. Always two steps ahead and proud of it.

            “Why do you ask?” Amy asks in return, dodging the question entirely.

            “Well because, a while back Amy confided in me that she wanted a relationship. I think it’s why she started changing her attitude a bit. I think that maybe she’s grown out of the sleeping around stage and wants something more grounded. And it’s totally okay if you don’t I guess I’m just… looking out for a friend.”

            Amy seems to absorb Nick’s explanation. She looks away from him, like she’s mapping out the words in her head and coming to a collective response. He waits, not wanting to rush her into an answer but still expecting one.

            She looks back at him, “I don’t know. I always thought             I hated her. Even lately that she’s been nicer, I still thought that. Maybe because for a moment there I thought she was just being nice to get back with you in some weird way, and maybe that’s why it didn’t stop me from disliking her still. But I don’t think that’s true at all now. I just – we’ve only slept together once, and I really did enjoy it more than I thought I would, for different reasons than I thought I would. But I’m also dealing with my own shit so – I guess the real answer, Nelson, is I don’t know.”

            Nick thinks it’s a fair answer. He knows not everyone understands their feelings for others, especially when their discovery of opposing to feelings to what they believed are new. And he knows how complicated it can be to navigate feelings you do know and mostly understand. He knows it because he’s living it with Charlie and has been since the moment he met him.

            “I understand,” Nick replies sincerely, “it can be complicated.”

            Amy shrugs, “I guess.”

            “I care about you both,” Nick says, “so, I just want to ask you that you’re responsible with both of your feelings. Like, take care of yourself, but also try your best to take care of her too.”

            Nick knows it’s not even his place to ask it of Amy, but he feels like he’d not only be a bad friend to both of them, but also entirely irresponsible to not even try. He doesn’t want them to make a mess of things. Even though, he understands his hypocrisy in even thinking it’s his place to stop it.

            “I ask the same of you,” Amy replies, and in true Amy fashion, she reads him to filth, “you know, with Charlie.”

            Nick thinks of denying it. Of reiterating to Amy that they’re just friends. But then he doesn’t because he knows she won’t believe him. And he truly can’t blame her for that. He wouldn’t believe him either.

            “I care about Charlie a lot,” Nick says instead, which isn’t necessarily a confirmation of the things Amy already knows, but it isn’t a denial of what’s already happening.

            “Oh, I know,” Amy replies, “’it’s in the eyes, chico. They never lie.’”

            It’s Nick’s turn to roll his eyes, but he smiles anyway. Because if there’s one thing about Amy is that she’s honest. And honestly, Nick can’t help the stars in his eyes that form whenever he is lucky enough to lay them on one Charlie Spring.

            “Welp,” Amy slams her hand on the table, startling Nick just slightly, “now that this is over with, I think there’s someone else I should go talk to.”

            Nick knows Amy means Amaya, and he smiles, feeling genuine giddiness for her. It might be strange, and not at all well-defined, but something in Nick’s gut tells him whatever it is they’re creating will be good for them. Both of them.

            “Hope that goes as well as this did,” Nick tells her.

            Amy shrugs, “if it’s worth becoming more than what it’s started off as, it will.”

            Nick nods and Amy stands to go. And just like that, their conversation is over. This thing that had been worrying Nick sick all week is gone in what feels like the blink of an eye. And was never something Nick needed to worry about so much. The monsters turned out to be just trees. There’s a symbolism in that Nick believes he could apply to other facets of his life. Especially where it currently stands.

            Nick picks up his phone from the table and goes to text the one person who stays glued to his mind.

Nick N.: You were right. It wasn’t that big of a deal.

            Nick stares at his screen as he waits for Charlie’s reply. He gets one only a couple of minutes later.

Charlie S.: it’s over already?! wow

Charlie S.: must’ve gone really well then :)

Nick N.: Yes, it did. Unexpected and a bit surprising, but really not anything I should’ve ever been worried about. I’ll make sure to listen to you more often x.

Nick looks down at his phone, with a smile on his face, as he waits once more for Charlie’s response. He sees the bubbles appearing, and then disappearing. And he can imagine it, Charlie staring down at his phone, typing and erasing, typing and erasing, not wanting to say the wrong thing.

Little does he know that when it comes to Nick, there’s very little he could do wrong.

Charlie S.: so you’re totally okay with it?? i was worried that maybe you’d be bothered.

Charlie S.: mostly because i didn’t want things to be weird between you and Amy.

Nick’s not sure the reasoning Charlie’s just given him for having been worried about how Nick would take the news is entirely true. He only doubts it because he knows how he’d feel if Charlie was having a similar conversation with one of his mates about a shared fling. He would be worried that Charlie would care because that would mean he’d still care, to some compacity, about the ex-fling in a way that would make him territorial over them. And that territorialism would feel like bone-crushing shove, right at the center of Nick’s chest. So, even if Charlie may not feel the way Nick would or may not want to be as open and honest about it, Nick gives him the reassurance anyway.

Nick N.: Not bothered one bit! I have no reason to be. I’ve told you before, but Amaya and I were never into each other in that way. I like us better as just friends than anything we ever were.

Nick N.: I’m actually very happy for them 😊  I think this might be what both of them need.

Charlie hearts Nick’s first message and Nick smiles down at his phone again. There is something so satisfying about making Charlie feel good about himself. About them.

Charlie S.: glad you feel that way and that ur no longer nervous lol x

Nick N.: Me more! Lol. 

Nick N.: Can’t believe you didn’t just put me out of my misery though. And for that of all things. There might have to be consequences for it.

  Charlie S.: what kind of consequences? 👀

Nick laughs to himself while staring down at his phone. And just like that, his worries fade to nothing, and he and Charlie fall back into a very similar pattern that he certainly could get used to.

            The thing about rugby is that, lately, it really just hasn’t mattered to Nick and yet, he’s been playing amazingly. The momentum he picked up after their historic victory during the first game of the season has continued and only gotten stronger. They’ve won every game of the season so far. Some games have been tougher than others to get through, and certainly not all wins have come as easily as their first win of the season felt. But all in all, they’ve been playing some of the best rugby they’ve ever played as a team in the last three years that they became one. And Nick’s not one to give himself praises and flowers often, but he knows that he, especially, has been playing very, very well. He’s been crushing it. After every game, his coach, or his teammates, or even Charlie and their friends have something to say about his performance and it’s always something to do with how blown away they are by it.

The way he’s been playing has even gotten him constant attention from his dad. It’s way more attention than he’s used to from him. Stephane has sent him weekly messages, even on the weeks that they don’t have a match scheduled. The messages don’t always start off as conversations or words of encouragement regarding rugby, but the conversation always ends that way. Which isn’t surprising to Nick. What’s more surprising is just the quantity of their conversations.

 It’s almost feels like Stephane wants to make sure Nick keeps doing what he’s doing and secures his spot in the pro leagues sooner in the season than anyone expected. It’s like he believes that by constantly messaging Nick about it, it’ll somehow make it more possible. What’s even more bizarre than that, is that Nick can actually see why his dad would think it’s working. Because the interest in him for and by the pro leagues has spiked. He’s been playing so good he’s already had a couple of scouts come out to watch him, which usually never happens to anyone so early in the season. Not even when a team is playing as good as they are. In reality, they’ve only won a handful of games because the season’s still just started and it’s hard for scouts to determine that kind of consistency so early on. But despite all that, it’s started happening to him. Scouts are coming to watch them. Watch him. He’s seen them in the stand, with their clipboards and their pens, taking notes and nodding their heads his way whenever there’s a pause in the game or the game is over. He knows that part of that outcome has to do with his surname. But he also knows it isn’t just his talent, it’s also his talent and the way it’s shown since the season started.

In the past, all the attention and all the expectations that seem to be culminating over Nick’s future in rugby would feel like an overbearing pressure. One that would turn him into a twisted ball of pitiful anxiety. In the present, Nick barely feels affected by it. He can’t seem to give it the importance that it perhaps deserves. And he’s not too sure why that is, but he thinks it has something to do with how happy he feels with all other facets of his life. And how all those other facets have one thing in common: Charlie Spring.

He just can’t seem to be able to worry himself sick over his future, or rugby, or anything else when he has Charlie in the way he’s always wanted him. It feels unreal sometimes. It feels unreal to be able to openly stare at him, not having to hide just how much he admires everything that Charlie is, and every word that leaves his mouth. A mouth that is even more unbelievable he gets to know the feeling of with his own. He finds himself living for the moments in time that seem to suspend in the air when he hangs off Charlie’s lips. When he gets to kiss him in ways that he always dreamed of but never really thought he’d be able to experience in this lifetime.

Everything about what they’re creating just makes Nick feel whole. Whole in a way that he hasn’t felt in so, so long. When he catches glimpses of Charlie’s smile over something silly that he said, or he feels Charlie’s hands leaving invisible yet permanent marks on his body that his soul will know for the rest of his life, or he catches Charlie jumping up and down in the stands, cheering his loudest for him – he doesn’t think he’s ever felt the way he does these days. And it just makes it impossible for Nick to find any reason to worry about anything. To care for anything that would have kept him awake in the dead of the night before Charlie.

Before Charlie, the world was bleak. Devoid of color and filled with shades of gray that Nick just didn’t know how to change. With Charlie, his world is vibrant, and more colorful than he could have ever hoped for.

It’s easy to know why rugby has come so easily to him even when he’s barely put in a conscious effort. It’s because with Charlie, everything feels and comes easily.

Nick thinks about all this as he walks to the locker room to prepare for the fifth game of the season. Charlie right by his side.

“What’re you smiling about?” he hears Charlie asks.

Nick doesn’t realize he is smiling until Charlie points it out. But the moment he does, it makes sense why Nick’s cheeks have started to ache. They haven’t been talking on the walk over, which is another aspect of their budding relationship that Nick enjoys and appreciates. As much as he loves their moments that are filled with chatter and words – because he could quite literally listen to Charlie speak about anything for hours – he loves their quiet moments just as much. Nick’s always been one to enjoy the quiet. It helps him breathe, take in the moment before the moments to follow. He’s never had anyone to share that with, beside his mom who he’s been so far away from for the last three years. Charlie is the only other person, beside Sarah, who Nick has been able to fall into silence with and have it be as comfortable as if he were on his own. It isn’t awkward or unfitting.

It's natural and home-like.

“Honestly? About you,” Nick answers.

When he turns his head to look at Charlie, he sees Charlie’s cheeks become a bit rosier than they were when they started their walk. It could be from their brisk exercise, or it could be from Nick’s words. Nick things the latter is more likely.

“Me? What about me?” Charlie questions.

Nick stops walking and turns to face Charlie fully. He doesn’t have to tell Charlie to stop too. He just does and turns to face Nick. He looks adorable in his fluffy blue jumper that’s easily becoming one of Nick’s favorites. Mainly because it happens to bring about all the shades of blue in Charlie’s deep eyes. He has the sleeves over his hands, possibly to shield them from the cold. And Nick wants to hold his hands in his own, warm them up that way. He wants to blow hot air on them and then kiss every one of his knuckles in the most caressing way he can think of. He wants to do all of that and more, but stays as he is because they’re in public, even if no one is particularly around them.

“Nothing in particular,” Nick says, remembering that Charlie’s asked a question he’s likely expecting an answer to, “just – you. Everything about you. How you make me happy.”

If Charlie’s cheeks were rosy before, they turn the color of a cherry as the words leave Nick’s mouth. He tries to play it off by giving Nick a cheeky eye roll.

“So sappy,” Charlie deflects.

            “You like it,” Nick tells him.

            Charlie’s smile betrays him, even if he tries his hardest to keep some of his guard up. Nick doesn’t blame him for it. He knows Charlie is smart, and he’s smart to keep some of his heart armored against Nick. He wishes he didn’t have to, but he understands why he does.

            “Maybe a little bit,” Charlie admits, and his eyes flick to Nick’s mouth so momentarily, Nick would miss it if he weren’t so transfixed on everything Charlie says and does.

            He hates as much as he loves when Charlie does that. Makes subtle movements that Nick’s not even sure he notices he’s making that give off exactly what he wants to do to Nick. With him. It’s difficult to not give into those urges. Especially now that they have.

            “I mean it though,” Nick reiterates, because he wants Charlie to know that even though he understands why Charlie is being protective with his heart, Nick is doing his best to do the same, “you make me happy. It’s almost ridiculous just how much.”

            Charlie’s smile lights up something inside Nick, “well, I guess you make me pretty happy too.”

            “Oh, you guess, huh?” Nick steps closer to Charlie, a move that he doesn’t even do with full consciousness.

            Charlie shrugs playfully, knowing exactly what he’s doing, “yeah, I guess.”

            Nick’s hand comes up, and what he really wants to do is place it on the nape of Charlie’s neck and pull him in. Wipe that smug little smile off his face with a purposeful kiss. But what he does instead is far less romantic and suggestive. Because they’re in public, and in public, they’re just friends.

            He wraps his arm around Charlie and pulls him in by the shoulders, ruffling his hair playfully.

            They’re laughing as Charlie yells, “Nick!” and tries to get him off him. But Nick is bigger and stronger, and he only lets go of Charlie when he feels as if he’s had just enough of holding him close. Enough to satiate him until he gets to do it again. Which won’t be until after the game.

            When he lets go of Charlie, Charlie creates a distance between them so he can fix his hair.

            “That was so uncalled for,” Charlie scowls at him, but Nick can tell he’s not actually angry. Nick’s getting to know every little detail that is Charlie. He’s getting to understand every infliction of emotion on his face and what they mean.

            “I’ll make it up to you,” Nick says, a form of peace offering so Charlie can stop pretending to be upset with him.

            “You better,” Charlie warns him.

            “I will,” Nick repeats, “after the game when we go to yours. I’ll let you pick the movie – even if it’s the cheesiest rom-com I’ll ever have to watch, and I won’t say a word about it.”

            Charlie eyes his suspiciously, “remember these words when we’re in my room trying to decide what to watch.”

            “I will,” Nick smiles, knowing that his promises are to keep because there’s a big chance they won’t make it halfway through whatever movie Charlie ends up picking anyway. It happened the last time Nick went over for a movie. They started off bantering about Charlie’s selection and ended up with Charlie’s dick in his mouth and a teasing finger in his hole that made Nick both nervous and excited. They just can’t seem to help themselves whenever they’re given moments of privacy. They don’t get to be alone too often, so when they do, Nick always feels the air swiftly get thick with sexual tension that they both chase release from. And he truly enjoys those moments of intimacy with Charlie as much as he enjoys all the other ones. He enjoys everything with Charlie far more than he enjoys anything with anyone else. Which is why for his last couple of victories, he’s opted out of big celebrations with his team and opted in for quieter nights in with Charlie.

            Charlie gives Nick another side-eye and then let’s himself melt into Nick’s embrace when Nick puts a gentle arm around his shoulder. This time far more caressing and sweeter in nature. He does it because it allows him to be close to Charlie without coming off as more than just platonic. They walk like that the entire way that’s left to get to Nick’s locker room, and Nick feels like all is right in the world.

            Until he hears a voice call out to him that sounds like what a cheese grater would feel like peeling off his skin. One layer at a time.

            “Oi! There’s Nick,” the voice that Nick knows belong to Harry Greene calls behind them, “rugby king ready for another rugby win, huh, lads?”

            Nick jumps at Harry’s obnoxious voice, but he also flinches and quickly releases his arm from around Charlie’s shoulder. He steps away, creating a reasonable distance that would exist between two platonic friends. And he only hates himself slightly for his reaction. But he feels the guilt seep into his bones, staining the colors Charlie creates in all his skies with inks of darker colors. He can’t even look at Charlie’s face to determine how Nick’s action must’ve just made him feel.

            Nick knows Charlie is understanding. But there’s only so much understanding a person can have.

            Nick turns and faces Harry, who is walking directly to them. He’s accompanied by other lads of the team that Nick doesn’t know very well outside of rugby. They’re idiots and far more like Harry than they are like Nick and have gravitated more toward him since the beginning.

            “Harry,” Nick says in greeting, with a small nod and a tight smile, “what’s up?”

            Harry gives him a wide smile that has no warmth behind it, “what’s up, mate? We’re about to get another W that’s what’s up!”

            The lads surrounding Harry pump their fists in the air and make animalistic noises that send Nick into a state of embarrassment. He wonders what Charlie must think of the company Nick keeps when he’s not around him. Unlike Charlie and his friends, Nick’s other friends and acquaintances aren’t intellects or people with much substance. Something about it makes Nick feel ashamed.

            “Right,” Nick tries to laugh, but it comes off as forced as it feels, “exciting stuff.”

            “Very exciting! Are you finally going to celebrate with us tonight or are you going to keep sneaking off to maybe get some from Amaya, eh?”

            Harry gives Nick a look, and the other lads join in, making ‘ooos’ and ‘ohs’ and a much bigger deal than it was to be if it were even true. Though it couldn’t be farther from it.

            Nick swallows, “that’s not – I’m not –”

            “You don’t have to deny it, mate! We’re all proud of you. But come on, give it a rest for one night to come celebrate with your boys.”

            At that, Nick hears Charlie scoff. It’s loud, and Nick’s not sure if it was intentional or Charlie truly just couldn’t help himself, but he feels all the attention go to Charlie. Suddenly, he has three pairs of the worst eyes on him – excluding Nick’s – and Nick’s hands begin to sweat with worry and nerves.

            “Oi, who’s this?” Harry asks, and though there’s a smile on his face when he does it, Nick knows it’s meant to be more of a sneer. There’s no good will behind Harry’s question or intent in asking it. There’s mockery in it. One pointed directly at Charlie.

            Charlie doesn’t look much friendlier either as he stares back at Harry, his mouth in a straight line with no words exiting it.

            Nick is about to interject, stop the whole interaction when Harry speaks again.

            “Do I know you, mate? You look very familiar but also not like anyone I’d remember.”

            As soon Harry speaks the words, he turns to the other lads for validation that his words were clever and worth a laugh. And because the other two have bolts for brains, they actually give him exactly what he’s seeking and snicker like anything he said actually took brain power to come up with.

            “We actually –” Charlie starts, but Nick quickly interrupts him. He’s not sure what Charlie was thinking of replying with, but he doesn’t want the situation to escalate. He wants to derail it and get them going their separate ways as soon as possible.

            “Harry don’t be a prick,” Nick says, though he tries for it to come out lighthearted, “this my friend Charlie. You met briefly at the after party you threw after we won that first game.”

            Harry looks between them with his eyebrows pinched, the memory not seeming to come to him. Then, just when Nick thinks he’ll get bored of thinking about it and just leave, Nick sees a look of realization come over his features.

            He snaps his fingers, “that’s right! You were there when I was handing Nick his lady. Kind of cock blocking, weren’t ya?” he laughs, the other two join along and Nick feels like his worst nightmares are turning into his reality, “what was the matter? Wanted her for yourself? Don’t really think you’re her type, mate.”

            Harry eyes Charlie up and down and takes a bit of a step forward. Charlie doesn’t cower away, and Nick feels the moment slipping through his fingers like running water.

            “She’s actually not mine either,” Charlie squares his shoulders, tenses his jaw, and looks Harry right in the eye when he says, “I’m gay.”

            Nick feels stuck, absolutely frozen in time as he watches the entire interaction play out. His eyes dart back and forth between Harry and Charlie. He watches Harry register the information in his pea-sized brain and Charlie looks determined and slightly defensive over whatever Harry’s reaction might be. And he wants to stop the entire thing from continuing to spiral but there’s a paralyzing fear coursing through his brain. He knows where the fear stems from, and that little bit of hatred he felt for himself for removing his hand from around Charlie over the very same fear multiples in size. It grows into a raging wildfire inside him and Nick’s not sure how to snuff it out. If at all possible.

            “Oh,” Harry says, and for a brief moment Nick thinks he’ll leave it at just that. But of course, he doesn’t.

            “I get it, mate! You’re not jealous of Nick, you’re jealous of Amaya,” Harry says, and the words feel atrocious as they fill the space between them. Harry laughs, like he’s said anything worth laughing over once more and the other boys join in because they don’t know any better. And the whole thing is making Nick want to punch someone, then punch himself, and then throw up.

            “Wow, you’ve truly uncovered the world’s greatest mystery –” Charlie starts, but once again, Nick cuts him off.

            “Harry, you’re being a dick for no reason,” Nick hears him say over Charlie, “Charlie’s just my friend. He doesn’t care about me and Amaya, he has no reason to.”

            Nick’s not sure it’s the right thing to say. But he’s very sure he just wants everything to stop.

            Harry, who has some ounce of respect for Nick merely because he doesn’t want to be cast out from the team, backs down.

            “I’m just joking, mate,” he tries to brush off, “take it easy. You know I’m just joking with you right, Charlie? Like it’s just banter.”

            Charlie’s facial expression doesn’t soften. He doesn’t look any less annoyed or defensive than he did moments before. But he gives one brief and short nod Harry’s way, letting Nick know that he’s going to drop it. Whether he wants to, or he’s simply doing it for Nick, he’s going to.

            “You see, Nick?” Harry says, smiling icily at him, “no need to be so worried.”

            Nick really wants to punch him.

            But he forces a smile and huffs out a laugh that isn’t at all genuine instead, “alright, mate. Not worried! Thanks for clearing it up. Why don’t you boys start heading inside to warm up? We’ve got a big game tonight.”

            He doesn’t even know if what he’s just said is true. He hasn’t really bothered to look into who it is they’re playing tonight. All he wants is some space between Harry and Charlie and himself and redirecting the energy towards rugby seems like the way to get just that.

            “Fuck yeah!” Harry yells, and Nick knows he’s got him right where he wants him, “let’s go boys. Our captain, our rugby king, has spoken.”

            The lads all punch Nick’s shoulders playfully and boyishly and the whole thing is a testosterone affair that Nick once again feels embarrassed over Charlie witnessing. But it gets the job done, because a moment later, Harry is having the lads follow him inside the locker room, away from Nick and Charlie.

            Harry turns on his heel just as he’s about to disappear from view, “think about it though, yeah? About ditching the bird for the lads.”

            “Yeah, I’ll think about it,” Nick replies, just to appease Harry and get rid of him. He doesn’t waste time correcting him or telling him ‘no.’ He doesn’t say anything that could somehow prolong their interaction. He lets Harry get the answer he wants and watches as he disappears with a smile and thinking he’s actually accomplished something.

            When he’s fully out of sight, Nick feels like he can breathe again. The tightness in his chest uncoils and makes way for his lungs to breathe in clear air.

            He takes a deep breath before he looks back at Charlie.

            He’s scared of what Charlie’s reaction will be. He knows in an ideal world he would’ve never referred to Charlie as just a friend. He would’ve never kept up the charades of the relationship between him and Amaya that has long been extinguished. In the world that Charlie deserves to be in, Nick would’ve told Harry that Charlie was his, in a romantic kind of way, and Amaya was just a friend. Harry would’ve probably still reacted negatively, but Nick would’ve told him to piss off and none of it would’ve mattered.

            Nick so wishes none of it mattered.

            He hates that he still thinks it does.

            When he looks back at Charlie, Charlie is already looking back at him too. He has his arms crossed over his chest, and an unreadable expression on.

            “Charlie I’m sorry—”

            “I’m sorry, Nick—”

            They both say at the same time.

            They both stop speaking at the same time too.

            Nick speaks again first, “Charlie, you have nothing to be sorry about it. I’m the one who – I couldn’t even be honest about a single thing just now. I’m – I’m just sorry.”

            Charlie uncrosses his arms from his chest and takes a small step forward, “Nick, you don’t owe people any explanations about your personal life. Especially not people like that. If you didn’t tell him exactly what he wanted to hear, you probably would’ve never made it to the match.”

            Nick knows some of what Charlie just said might hold some truth to it, but he also knows that a big part of his inability to be honest about anything is because of his own shame. His own shame that he hates has any sort of association with Charlie. With what they are. With what they share.

            “I’m still sorry that I lied.”

            “Nick, you have nothing to be sorry for. I’m the one who should be apologizing,” Charlie rebuttals, “and I am. I’m sorry for giving off so much attitude to a stupid comment that I know isn’t even true. And just blurting my sexuality to someone who would probably turn it into a wall of assumptions about you or me or us.”

            “To his credit, they would be assumptions that would all be true,” Nick points out, the smile on his face slowly returning.

            Charlie’s does the same, “yes, but – truths I’m sure you’re not comfortable with them knowing.”

            Nick’s smile drops a bit at Charlie’s point. One that he can’t deny.

            Charlie takes another step forward and it takes everything in Nick to hold himself back.

            “Nick, it’s okay. There’s no deadline for this. We’re figuring things out.”

            And if Nick were just an inch braver, or a foot better, this would be the moment he’d kiss Charlie. He’d kiss him as a way of thanking him, and pouring into him just how much Charlie is everything he’s ever wanted embodied in a single human. Because Charlie is the one person in his life, beside his mom, that never puts any sort of pressure on him. Even when he’s sure his actions have the potential to affect him the most. Charlie remains kind and understanding and absolutely perfect.

            I’m falling so deeply in love with you, Charlie Spring.

            “Thank you, Char. For being you.”

            Charlie smiles, and Nick’s anxiety fades to the back of his mind where it lives dormant until it is awakened, “you’re very welcome.”

            Nick doesn’t care that Charlie is being smart. He likes it.

            “Are you actually considering going to celebrate with the team today? It’s okay if you are I just –”

            “Absolutely not,” Nick cuts him off, not wanting Charlie to entertain the thought for a second more, “like you said, Harry’s just the kind of person you tell what they want to hear so they can piss off sooner rather than later. I have all the intention of staying in with you. That’s what I want to do and that’s what I’m going to do.”

            “If you keep speaking like that then I’ll be the reason you won’t make it to the game.”

            Nick’s heart flutters, and his stomach twists. And fuck, Nick wants to kiss him so bad. But instead, he makes space. Because he can’t kiss him right now, but he will kiss him a million different ways later when they’re safe from prying eyes.

            “Unfortunately, I can’t let you do that. I have a whole team who’s depending on me. But keep this same energy for after?” Nick says, continuing to back away from Charlie and head into the locker room.

            “Maybe,” Charlie shrugs, “if you behave.”

            “I’m winning this entire game just for you. How much more behaving could I possibly do?”

            “Oh, shut up,” Charlie rolls his eyes like he doesn’t believe a word of it.

            What Nick finds ironic about that is that it’s the truest thing he’s said in the last five minutes.

The game goes as smoothly as most of Nick’s game have been going in the season so far. There are some trying moments – like when Cristian gets tackled so hard to the ground Nick is worried he broke a rib cage. Or when Nick tries to score and is pummeled by a group of the opposing team’s largest members. But anytime Nick looks over at the stands and sees Charlie’s adoring face and blinding smile, he feels newly motivated to keep playing well. And not just to play well, but to win.

Even if all his efforts are just to see another one of those infamous Charlie Spring smiles. If just to see the look of pride Charlie carries on his features when Nick does something impressive on the field. If just to get him to feel like Charlie is proud of him, impressed by him, and this is something worth Charlie considering Nick’s worthiness of him.

He knows it’s all a bit deluded, and probably not healthy, to rely on Charlie so heavily for his ability to perform on the field. But these days it feels like the only way he can get himself to play like he wants to be anywhere on the field without having to force the feeling. Without feeling like if he doesn’t do it, he’s not worth much more. Like he’s nothing without it. It relieves some of the pressure he’s been feeling ever since he started playing the sport – something Nick never thought would be able to be adjusted.

They end the game with another victory. Nick sees the joy on all his teammates faces when the time runs out and they’ve realized they’ve won again. He sees it as they all hug and tackle each other on the field and yell at the top of their lungs with all their might. He can feel it when Sai and Otis run up to him, Sai nearly jumping on his back and Otis hugging him tighter than he ever has before. But the joy he seeks is the one from the boy on the stands, who he sees walking down to the sidelines with Amy and Daisy right by his side. The joy wants to feel the warmth of wrap his like a blanket is that of the same person who even got him through the game to begin with.

It's Charlie.

Everything feels centered around him lately, and it’s something Nick is getting used to with ease.

Nick gives him teammates adequate attention and then he rushes himself to the sideline, ready to give Charlie a quick but hard hug. Just enough to release some of that desire he feels building inside him to be close to Charlie. A desire he can’t wait to fulfill by the end of the night. It’ll be the reason he leaves the locker room quickly and makes up whatever excuse will get his teammates off his back quicker so he can go home, shower, then spend the rest of his night wrapped around Charlie.

His own smile is beaming, reflecting right off Charlie’s, as he eagerly makes his way to him across the field. His feet pick up speed and momentum the closer and closer he gets to closing the distance between them. And then, like lightning striking in a death-rattling kind of way, he feels the blood in his veins turn cold. Sending his whole body to slow as his brain registers what his eyes are looking at. Who his eyes are looking at.

Having made his way to obscure Nick’s direct view of Charlie is his brother – David.

Nick can’t remember the last time he saw David. Or maybe he can, and he’d just rather not because most of his memories involving David aren’t pleasant ones. They’ve never had a good relationship. Definitely not one that Nick would think is ideal for two brothers. He’s always thought siblings are meant to be some of the people closest to you. Your biggest supporters. Your greatest fans. Your closest confidantes.

David has always been the exact opposite to and for Nick.

For as long as Nick can remember, David was always callous and cruel towards him. It only got worse once they were both playing rugby competitively. He knows his dad played a hand in only worsening their relationship, constantly comparing them to one another and starting a competition between them that was never going to be friendly due to the nature of their relationship from the beginning. Sarah has always been the one to try and mend it – but it’s never repaired any of the damage that their dad did to it. Nick has always wondered if it was on purpose, Stephane thinking it would make both of them better at the sport, or if it was entirely just coincidental. The more he’s thought of it over the years, the less he’s been able to figure it out.

All he’s sure of, and all he knows, is those various series of events have led him to feel as he does watching his brother wait for him on the sidelines of the field. It should come as no surprise that he stands there, a neutral expression on his face as he claps his hands together in a way that feels like it’s the last thing he wants to be doing.

Nick walks, much slower than he first was when he started going in that direction. The moment he reaches David, no words leave his mouth. He doesn’t have any that feel appropriate.

“Nicky,” David says, using the same nickname his mother does in a much less warm kind of way, “great game.”

“Thanks,” Nick replies, unsure of how to continue without asking what is weighing the heaviest on his mind, “what’re you doing here all the way from Glasgow?”

He hopes it comes off as more curious than it does accusatory. But Nick can’t deny that he feels the latter. He doesn’t know what David has come all this way for, especially unannounced, but he can’t imagine it’s for anything good. And he wants to know, so he can feel the weight of his presence dissipate.

David gives Nick an all too familiar look of slight offense though Nick never meant to put it there, “what?” he puts out his arms on either side of him, his hands wide like he’s waiting for Nick to come in for a hug, but really he’s waiting for an answer, “I can’t come visit my little brother to see him play some good rugby?”

Nick tries to keep his cool.

“You can,” Nick says, “you just don’t do it very often.”

“You often don’t play this well,” David is quick to reply, the knife he consistently holds in his hands at Nick’s mercy always sharpened, “what’s changed?”

Nick doesn’t have an answer that would ever make sense to David. Or that he’d want to share with him.

“Guess I’m just preparing for the pro leagues.”

David scoffs, his cold smile so reminiscent of all the times during Nick’s childhood that David would laugh him off, “you play a couple of decent matches and suddenly you’re ready for the big leagues?”

Nick is already exhausted by their conversation. He can hear David’s voice in the back of his mind, right next to his anxiety that jumps at the sound of it. All the times that very same voice reminded Nick that his dreams were unreachable. Laughable. That he wasn’t good enough. No matter how hard he tried, he’d never be as talented as he wished he was.

Nick sighs, “David, I—”

“Hey,” he hears another voice say. One that has the complete opposite effect on him than David’s voice has. It’s a voice that breaks through David’s from time’s past. Calms his anxiety that is already peeking through.

Charlie’s.

Nick looks over and finds Charlie approaching them. He looks timid and unsure, his eyes moving between David and Nick like he’s trying to piece together the situation. But Nick can sense that Charlie can sense the tension lurking in the air.

“Sorry to interrupt, I just – wanted to congratulate you, Nick. You did great.”

“Thanks,” Nick tries to smile, but it doesn’t come about while David’s eyes feel glued to his every move.

“You’re welcome, and I uh – wanted to talk to you about that assignment quickly before I have to turn it in tonight,” Charlie adds.

Nick automatically knows it’s a lie. An excuse to get Nick away from David. He’s grateful for it, but worried that he hasn’t been able to control his facial expressions and has given off the shakiness he feels that even gotten Charlie to notice his uneasiness.

“Um, sure,” Nick replies anyway, needed the break from David to collect himself, “sorry, David, can you give me a moment?”

“Sure, but aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?” David asks, and Nick knows he doesn’t care to meet Charlie. He just cares to feel important.

“Right,” Nick says, not wanting to start the inevitable fight with David just yet, “sorry. David this is a classmate and friend, Charlie. Charlie, this is my older brother, David.”

David extends his hand to Charlie, “David Nelson. Half-fly for the Glasgow warriors.”

Nick knows Charlie will hardly know what team David is even talking about, but he also knows David can never help himself from trying to impress people with his status. His status that Nick knows is not even that grand. It’s mediocre at best, and mostly due to their father’s success than to David’s own.

Charlie meets it with a smile Nick can recognize as not entirely genuine, “nice to meet you.”

“We’ll be right back, David,” Nick says immediately, not giving David a chance to react to Charlie’s lack of interest to his introduction.

“Sure thing,” David says, “I’ll be right here when you’re done.”

Nick has never heard more shrilling words.

He steps away from David with Charlie, and they stand far enough away that David can’t listen in. It’s still crowded and noisy enough that they don’t need to go far for Nick to be sure he can’t hear.

“Sorry if I interrupted unnecessarily,” Charlie says the moment they’re as alone as they can be in such a crowded space, “you just looked… I don’t know – worried. I didn’t know who that was.”

“No, no it’s fine,” Nick quickly reassures him, “in fact, I needed to step away for a moment. I didn’t – I had no idea he’d here.”

“Why is he here?” Charlie asks the question Nick is continuously asking himself.

He shakes his head, “I’ve got no idea. Probably to – I don’t know. He never visits for anything good.”

Charlie looks concerned for him, and Nick wants nothing more than to ease the lines between his eyes. Smooth over whatever is beginning to brew worry in his own mind.

“What can I do to help?” Charlie offers, and it causing Nick’s chest to constrict with emotions.

“Nothing,” he answers honestly, shutting down Charlie’s help because he know it would be futile even if he were to tried his hardest, “I wish there was something you could do, Charlie but – unfortunately, there’s really nothing you can do. I won’t be able to avoid him until he gets whatever it is he came here for.”

“So, does that mean –” Charlie begins to ask, but is then interrupted by another voice. Not David’s but someone’s whose voice is just as bad to hear for Nick.

Harry’s.

“Nick, mate!” he yells, jumping on Nick’s back and ruffling his hair that’s already a mess from the sweat of the game, “we fucking did it! Again! We have to celebrate big, mate!”

Nick tries to keep his balance as Harry man handles him, and his eyes catch Charlie’s just as he’s about to respond to Harry’s antics.

Sai, Otis and Cristian come to join them too. They’re just as rowdy as Harry and Charlie gets somehow pushed to the side. Though Sai snakes a hand around Charlie’s shoulder in the corner, because Sai is just the kind of guy who never wants anyone to feel left out, but something about it makes Nick feel sick to his stomach.

It feels like the poison that is jealousy. One that he hasn’t felt in such a long time. And he knows is irrational because it’s not like Sai does the gesture for any reason beside pure friendliness. But his emotional reaction is just a testament to how screwed Nick’s head feels

“Lads, tell our rugby king he has to join us tonight,” Harry says again, his hand still around Nick aggressively, “tell him to take a break from Amaya tonight.”

Nick feels himself shrink. Once again, Harry is bringing up something that Nick would rather not be aired so easily. Especially not in front of Charlie. Especially not when it hasn’t been true for so long and yet Nick can’t ever find it in him to get the words out to say that.

“Amaya?” Otis looks appalled by the suggestion, “mate, I think that ship has sailed.”

He laughs immediately after, and Nick feels mortified. His mortification is making him feel debilitated, unable to speak or move or take control of the situation that he can see spiraling right in front of him.

“Oh yeah,” Sai chimes in, laughing a bit himself, “we’re pretty sure Amaya’s switched sides.”

“What?” Harry questions, and Nick wants to speak but he can’t find his voice, “what do you mean, mate? Then how has Nick been skipping on all these nights out with us?”

It hasn’t been that many times, and Nick wants to point that out as well as just tell Harry it’s none of his business, but he does nothing of it.

“It’s not to be with her! Amaya was definitely getting some new action from someone who was not Nick, and was not even a boy, not that long ago,” Otis confirms, not even understanding what he’s doing. Nick knows it’s not ill-willed. It’s just his friends being his friends. Not understanding the consequences of their actions or words. Or even realizing they have any.

“Well, maybe our boy is getting some three-way action,” Harry says, like he’s proud of it if it’s to be true.

“No chance, mate,” Otis says.

“Nick, mate, are you going to let these lads tell me you turned the hottest girl on campus gay?” Harry teases, laughing his head off.

“No, no,” Cristian defends Nick, but it’s the worst way possible, “Nick is the one who got tired of sleeping with her. Imagine sleeping with the same person for three years!”

“Oh, is that right, mate?” Harry asks.

And no, no it isn’t right. It’s wrong. But Nick did say it to Cristian, and now he wishes he never had. He realizes even more now than he did how awful it sounds. And he realizes how horrible it is that all of this is occurring in front of Charlie and Nick can feel the panic rising in his chest. Taking over the space. His anxiety expanding in size in his head. And everything feeling tremendously out of his control.

“Excuse me lads,” David says, cutting through the group. All of Nick’s teammates turn to face him, and the attention is quickly on David. Something David strives on, and something that Nick would never imagine he’d want either.

“Need to steal Nick away. I’ve got a nice little night out planned with my little brother," David announces, and Nick knows that his night isn’t going to go at all how he’d planned. How he’d want it to. With his friends, there was always a chance of escape. With David, Nick knows it’s impossible.

“You’re Nick’s brother?” Cristian asks, and it doesn’t come as a surprise to Nick who tries to speak of David the least possible that one of his closest friends couldn’t recognize who David was the moment he approached them.

“Yeah,” David replies, “I also play for the Glasgow warriors currently.”

Harry is the most impressed by David’s release of information.

“No way!” Harry says, open mouthed, “you’re in a professional league, mate?”

“Yup,” David replies, smug and proud over something he hardly earned, “play the same position as Nick, actually.”

“Mate, you should come celebrate with us tonight!” Harry invites him along.

Nick can’t think of a worse duo. He can’t think of anything more insufferable than hanging out with David than hanging out with David and Harry. Together.

“That might be fun, but I need some quality time with my little brother,” David answers for them. In a turn of events, giving Nick exactly what though he’s sure David does not see it that way which is why he’s even suggested it, “haven’t seen him in a while,” David finishes.

Though Nick is grateful he won’t have to deal with both David and Harry together, he knows David’s true intentions are far more sinister. He hasn’t revealed them yet, but Nick knows they’ll show themselves as their night progresses.

Nick releases himself from Harry and moves to stand on his own. He needs to catch his breath. His eyes search for Charlie’s who are already looking back at him. Nick doesn’t know what emotion is caught underneath them, and he knows he won’t be able to stay around to find out.

“I’ll go shower and change in the locker room,” Nick announces, “be back in ten, David. Lads, enjoy your night.”

He doesn’t give anyone the opportunity to respond to him. He doesn’t even know how he got the words he spoke to leave his mouth. He still feels the panic bubbling in his chest. He still feels his anxiety running around in his head. He walks away and back, hearing voices behind him that he blocks out while he wills his feet to get him to his locker room. Away from David. Harry. And even his friends that he doesn’t want to be around.

The locker room is luckily, mostly empty. His teammates still likely on the field celebrating or heading home to get ready for the night’s celebrations. While Nick does his best to try and not collapse on the ground. It feels so similar to how he felt the night Cristian accidentally outted him to a group full of strangers. He wants to call for Charlie, but he can’t even find the strength to pick up his phone and send a text. Instead, he rushes to one of the showers, needing anything to send a shock to his body.

He undresses quickly and runs the shower at the coldest temperature he can manage. Once he’s underneath the hose, dousing his entire body, he shivers from the temperature of the water. But he feels his breathing calm as he reminds himself to take a deep breath in, hold for three seconds, and then release. He does that again and again, standing underneath the shower, hoping the water can drown out the panic he still feels inside him. He stays just like that until he starts to feel more like himself again.

Once he feels his breathing normalize, and the panic settle, he begins to actually wash off the dirt of the day’s game. He showers quickly, gets dressed even quicker. He puts on a plain pair of jeans and an even plainer white shirt, and he has no idea if he’s dressed appropriately for the night David has spontaneously planned for them, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t even want to go. And if he were to go home and change into something better it would just prolong their time together.

As he grabs his things and exits the locker room to meet David again, he checks his phone and sees various texts. Some from the lads. Some from other teammates. And one from Charlie. It’s the only one he opens.

Charlie S.: stupid question but are you ok?

Nick is far from okay. And he wants to apologize to Charlie for everything, but he doesn’t think a text will suffice.

Nick N.: I will be x. Thanks for worrying. Talk later?

He knows it isn’t even a fraction of the explanation or apology Charlie deserves, but he doesn’t have the energy for it currently. He’ll give a proper one of both to Charlie later, but right now, he has to gather all his energy to face David. And worse, endure an entire night out with him.

When Charlie’s reply comes in, it’s drier than Nick would like. He thumbs up Nick’s message.

Charlie S.: sure. have a good night.

A moment later, another message comes in.

Charlie S.: if u need anything, I’m here x.

The second message just solidifies why Nick doesn’t feel like he’ll ever be deserving of Charlie. It makes him feel ten times worse about himself. His actions. His inability to just be authentically himself.

It’s too much. He hearts it and locks his phone.

David is waiting for Nick just where he left him. This time, alone. He’s looking down at his phone before he snaps his head up to look at Nick. Just by the look on David’s face, Nick knows he’s going to make a less than pleasant comment about his wardrobe. Just as Nick suspected.

“This is how you dress for a night out?” David mocks him.

His opinion on fashion would matter more to Nick if David had any sense of it himself. But Nick is pretty sure that wearing a Prada belt, or a Gucci shirt to show off wealth is not very fashionable. And he’s seen David’s game day looks – that’s all they are. Even as he stands before Nick, he’s not dressed much differently than him. The only difference is he has a designer shirt on and his Prada belt. Besides that, his plain jean and shirt are comparable to Nick’s.

“It was all I had in my bag,” Nick answers, “ready to go?”

David eyes him up and down once more, then laughs at his expense, “how do you get any girls dressing like that? I’ve got some things to teach you about fashion before you get into the pro leagues. Assuming you even make it.”

Nick ignores him, and just nods along like he agrees or cares for anything David is saying. He’s learned that with David it’s better not to engage until necessary. Any little disagreement can easily turn into a screaming match, and Nick would rather not get into it so early on with David. Not before he finds out why he’s really here. Not on his own field.

David has Nick follow him to his car. A new Aston Martin that Nick is not sure how David can afford on his own. He probably can’t. It was probably a gift from their dad for David playing in the pro leagues for a year and resigning his contract for another. But Nick doesn’t comment on it. He doesn’t comment on anything. Something he’s sure ticks David off.

David doesn’t tell him where he’s driving them to as they make their way out of campus and onto the main roads. Instead, he just asks, “nice ride, huh?”

Nick fights the urge to roll his eyes.

“Yeah,” Nick pretends to be impressed.

“Gift from dad for playing such a good first year in the pros.”

David says it with his chest puffed and his chin high. Like he’s proud of himself for being so compliant with their dad’s wishes for them. Nick knows that he is. He knows it because he still strives for the same thing. But unlike David, Nick isn’t proud of himself for that. He’s disconcerted by it. And he finds it almost painful how predictable his dad and his brother are.

They don’t talk on the way to wherever it is they’re going. Nick fidgets in his seat the entire car ride there but tries his best to be inconspicuous about it.

They drive for what feels like far too long for Nick. But by the time to arrive to where David takes them, Nick understands why. As David pulls up to the valet parking of a gentlemen’s club, Nick can’t help but feel annoyed.

“A gentlemen’s club, David, really? I thought you’d want to go somewhere where we could talk.”

David laughs, “we can talk here just fine. Unless we’re in a private room,” he winks sleazily at Nick and Nick is disgusted by the suggestion, “don’t worry, I’ll pay for yours. I know Dad doesn’t have you on the best allowance.”

He doesn’t wait for Nick to say anything in return. He gets off the car a moment later, slamming his own, very expensive door. Nick flinches at the sound and throws his head back in exasperation.

He doesn’t think his night could get any worse from here. But knowing David, he can dig an even deeper rock bottom for him.

Nick wants to text Charlie. He wants to cling to his only anchor of comfort. But he doesn’t want to worry Charlie even more. He doesn’t want to bring him further into problems that shouldn’t involve him. He has to try and do this without Charlie. For Charlie’s sake.

Nick takes another deep breath, holds it for three, and releases it. That’s when he steps out of the car.

David walks in front of Nick as they enter. The place smells like cigarettes, expensive alcohol, and sex. The lights are extremely dimmed. Purple lights hang over their heads that barely give visibility to the place. There are small stages scattered around with poles at the center. There are some women dancing on them, but mainly Nick sees them walking around. Offering drinks and private rooms to the men that hang around.

Nick’s been to gentlemen’s clubs before. In celebrations with his teams. For birthdays of his friends. But even when Nick was single and finding it easy to pretend to solely be into women, he wasn’t a fan of them. He’s always found it strange to have to pay a stranger for their attention. Especially attention that feels sexual, and because you’re paying for it, feels entirely inorganic.

David finds them a table that isn’t too close to any of the stages around them. Nick’s grateful the place seems to be crowded enough that it leaves David very little options.

It doesn’t take long after they’ve sat for a waitress to approach them. She’s hardly dressed, and somehow that makes David feel like he can speak to her whichever which way he pleases. He doesn’t even wait for her to finish introducing herself.

David hands her a card, “open a table under Nelson. Give us your finest top shelf whiskey bottle. Two glasses with one ice cube each. Thanks, doll.”

The waitress seems only slightly flustered by David’s approach, one that Nick imagines isn’t all too uncommon in a place like where they are, “would you like to know the price of the bottle, sir?”

“Baby, we’re Nelsons. The price tag doesn’t matter. Make sure to keep the tab open too.”

Nick watches are their waitress blinks, surely confused by the use of their surnames he’s sure she doesn’t recognize. The whole exchange makes Nick cringe. David acting like their Beckhams when they’re not even a quarter as relevant.

“Sure. I’ll be right back with that,” she says politely, and then disperses.

David unabashedly looks on after her when she walks away, lusting after her, and Nick pretends to not notice.

“She’s pretty fit, huh?” David comments.

Nick hardly spared her a glance but pretends to agree with a nod of his head.

“So,” David speaks much louder than he was a moment ago. When Nick turns to face him, he sees David with both his elbows on the table, leaning in closer to Nick with a deviant smile on his face, “have you had any scouts come out to see you just yet? With the record your team has so far, I’d imagine yes.”

There are really only two things Nick knows David to talk about – rugby and girls – so it’s not surprise to him that the conversation has been overturned to the only other side of David’s coin.

Nick scratches his eyebrow with his forefinger, “uhm, yeah. Some.”

“What teams?” David prods.

Nick can hardly remember what teams. That’s how uninterested he’s been in any of it, even when the interest in him has increased what feels an exponential amount.

Nick thinks, “I believe the bulls and the uhm, raiders.”

David’s laugh is maniacal. He slaps his hands on his thighs like Nick has told the greatest joke and Nick just looks onward at the theatrics of it. He knows David doesn’t find it nearly as comical as he’s trying to make it seem he does. He knows the reaction is just to get under Nick’s skin. Nick braces himself for David’s sharp knife to draw blood with his words.

Just as he thinks he’s about to be cut, their waitress reapproaches them, causing the conversation to momentarily pause as she pours them both a glass of a whiskey that is probably very overpriced.

David hardly thanks her, but Nick makes sure to with a smile. One that he doesn’t let last too long so she doesn’t get the wrong idea of his kindness.

Nick quickly picks up the glass once it’s filled, trying to get some alcohol in his system to numb him. He’d rather feel nothing at all than start feeling panicked all over again in front of David.

“Bradford and Barrow?” David asks mockingly, picking up just where they left off like if there had never been a lull in their conversation, “that’s it? Jeez. Dad made it sound like you were playing so well the bloody Rhinos came out to see you.”

The more David speaks, the more it’s becoming clearer to Nick why he’s there in the first place.

“Well, I am playing well, and some scouts have come out to see me but it’s still early on,” Nick argues for himself.

“Right, so it can all just be good luck. The good teams know that” David says, twisting the knife he’s already embedded past Nick’s first line of defense.

As thick as Nick’s skin has grown over the years, David always finds a way to pierce through. Nick takes another sip of his drink, his grip tightening on his glass.

“And honestly speaking, after seeing you play today, I can just tell you that you’re not ready for the pro leagues. Like sure, you did well enough to win but some mistakes were so lazy and avoidable like, you won’t be ready for it,” David keeps on, though Nick didn’t even respond to his initial feedback.

“Is that what you’re here for?” Nick snaps, “to criticize how I play?”

David laughs again, never affected by Nick’s words as much as Nick is affected by his, “I’m giving you some brotherly advice. Take it from someone who is on year two of playing with the pros. Luck will only get you so far. You’ve got to have the skills.”

As if David knows anything about having the skills. He made it to where he is riding off Stephane’s coattails and not even half the talent their dad ever had in the sport. A fact that Nick is well aware of. Just like he’s well aware that although he also isn’t the player his father was, he is ten times better than David is.

“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” Nick defends himself again, “I practice enough. I’m playing well. We haven’t lost a single game this season, and I plan to keep that up.”

“Doubt you won’t lose a single game this season.”

“Doubt I’ll lose more than I win.”

David laughs obnoxiously, “listen, I’m trying to help you. Because if dad comes out to see you play and sees what I saw today, he’s just going to be disappointed.”

Suddenly, David’s visit makes so much sense to Nick. He isn’t here to criticize Nick’s game play, and he isn’t there to offer him any helpful advice. He’s there to knock down his confidence. To somehow throw a wrench in the momentum he’s been creating since the start of the season. And he’s doing it because he’s jealous. Given what David’s said in the conversation so far, him and his dad have talked about Nick. His dad, doing what he’s always done, has likely sang his praises for Nick. Praises he wouldn’t even tell Nick himself but would tell David to get in his head. To push him towards playing better. But instead of motivating David, it’s poisoned him. Poisoned him against Nick like it always has. And David is trying to pass some of that poison along.

Nick refuses to let him.

Because for once, Nick hasn’t been playing for his dad. He’s been playing for someone else – someone who would never be disappointed even if Nick played the worst rugby of his life.

“I guess we’ll see when it happens,” Nick replies, taking another sip from his glass. He might be bleeding from David’s knife, but he refuses to let him see it.

“If it even happens,” David bites back, “you may have dad’s attention now but let’s see how long it lasts.”

“How many games of yours has been to this season?” Nick cuts back. His knife is never as sharp, and it never pierces as deep, but he’s learned to have one ready with David. It’s the only way he’s been able to get past all his bullying in the past.

David has no rebuttal for that, knowing very well that the answer is a pathetic one. One that wouldn’t make Nick feel envious of him but probably just sorry for him.

They stay quiet, neither of them speaking and instead sipping their expensive whiskey on their father’s dime. Seemingly unable to continuing tormenting Nick with the current conversation, David switches gears. Nick watches as he lifts a hand, calling over one of the dancers who had just been sitting on another guests’ lap.

Nick straightens up in his seat, knowing that David is about to do something that is likely going to cause him extreme discomfort.

The woman, who is hardly dressed, wearing nothing but a lacy bra that exposes her breasts to the naked eye and matching panties that hardly leave anything to the imagination approaches them with a wide smile. She is conventionally attractive, with a slim waist, big breasts, and a bigger ass. She has long blonde hair that cascades down her back, and so much of Nick doubts it’s all organically hers. She has a nice spray tan on and blue eyes that remind Nick of the clear blue waters off Greece’s coasts. And yet, as stunning as they may be, he doesn’t think they compare at all to Charlie’s. He feels no interest when he looks at her.

“Hello there handsome,” she gives David a little wave and when she looks over at Nick to throw him a smile, he quickly drops his gaze and picks up his glass, “how’s your evening going so far?”

“A lot better now that you’re here,” David answers smoothly.

David always had a way with girls that Nick never did. Still doesn’t. Nick’s always been able to grab attention, but he’s never been able to command it like David does.

“How sweet of you,” she replies, “my name’s Grace. And you boys?”

“David and Nick Nelson,” David introduces them, gesturing to himself and then Nick sitting across from him. Using their surname once more like they should be easily recognizable.

“Pleasure to meet you boys,” she replies, “what can I do for you this evening?”

“Well, my little brother here just won his sixth game in a row of rugby,” David smiles, “it’s just uni, but you know, something worth celebrating.”

The woman makes her way over to Nick, and Nick continues to avoid eye contact. Even when she places a hand on his shoulder, rubbing a bit, does he avoid it. He tries not to stiffen under her touch, but it feels so wrong to be touched the way she’s touching him by anyone else’s hands that aren’t Charlie’s. It feels vile.

“Is that right?” she says, looking down at him, “congratulations, handsome. Looking to celebrate big tonight?”

David laughs, and Nick stays silent, “don’t mind him. He’s a bit shy. But to help him celebrate, I’d like to pay you for a private room for him. We can start with just a dance. You could put it on the Nelson open tab.”

Nick’s eyes go wide, and his heart rate races, and it isn’t because he’s excited or looking forward to anything David’s just offered for him but because he can’t think of anything less than he’d rather do. He doesn’t want to be touched by anyone else, much less be given a lap dance, or offered more, by this stranger who isn’t Charlie. He feels like he’s doing something detrimental to them, to whatever they are, to whatever he hopes for them to become, if he doesn’t stop this before it really starts.

His voice feels lost, trapped in his throat, but he begs for it to show up. To allow him to speak the words screaming at him in his mind.

It isn’t until the woman’s hand snakes up his shoulder to the back of his neck, scratching at his scalp and lightly tugging that he snaps out of it. He flinches and pulls away from her.

He can see the confusion on her face as she removes her hand from him, and the disgust on David’s face at his actions. He ignores David and looks up at the woman, who isn’t doing anything wrong and just doing her job.

“Sorry, I – uh. No, thanks,” Nick manages to get out, “you’re – you’re lovely, so it’s not to do with you –”

“Then what the fuck is it, Nick?” David rudely asks, “don’t be rude to this lovely woman.”

Nick swallows down hard, not looking at David and maintaining eye contact with the woman who continues to loom over him. She looks to start feeling just as uncomfortable as he feels.

“I’m just seeing someone seriously and I don’t – they wouldn’t be okay with this, and I don’t want to be disrespectful to them. I’m sorry.”

The woman’s eyes seem to soften at Nick’s response.

“No worries, love,” she replies, a genuine and kind smile on her face, “that’s sweet of you. She’s a lucky one to have someone so loyal.”

Nick doesn’t think she couldn’t be more wrong. He’s the lucky one.

“Well, if you change your mind, or she does, you lads know where to find me,” she throws a wink David’s way and walks off. Neither him nor David stop her.

Nick takes another long sip of his drink before looking over at David. When he does, he’s not shocked to see that David has a scowl on his face. One that shows Nick exactly what he’s thinking of him.

“Are you mad?” David asks him, “she was so fit. And obviously down to do much more than give you just a private dance.”

“I don’t want that, David. Did you not just hear what I told her? I’m seeing someone.”

“And?” David scoffs and then sits back on his chair, shaking his head from side to side, “does she have to know? It’s not like I’d tell her. I don’t even know who the bird is.”

It isn’t a bird, for one. But of course, Nick doesn’t have the guts to tell him that.

“It’s disrespectful,” Nick tries to plead his case.

David just laughs at him.

“Oh my god,” David laughs and laughs and laughs, “you’re such a pussy, Nick. Jeez, mom really made you so sensitive. Do you think when you get to the pros women won’t be throwing themselves left and right at you? What’re you going to do? Shut them down too?”

If Charlie is still in his life, which Nick greatly hopes he is, that’s exactly what he’ll do.

“If I’m still seriously seeing someone, then yes.”

David’s mouth falls open in disbelief, “what the fuck is wrong with you, mate? Are you an idiot? How could you say no to all that free pussy for the same one?”

God, Nick has never related any less to David. They couldn’t be more different if they tried. It’s why when Nick’s parents divorced because Stephane could not maintain his fidelity to their mom, Nick took it as hard as Sarah did. But David, David would tell Nick to stop crying about it. That it was normal. That their mom would eventually come to terms with it.

Nick is about to respond, but David continues to pile on.

“I’ve got to have a conversation with mom when I visit her. She’s made you way too soft. Always has. No wonder you ended up making out with a dude. I mean, you were always one step away from being gay so was it really…”

And whatever else David has to say gets muffled out by the ringing in Nick’s ears. He can feel his skin burn with all the insecurities David’s words bring out of him, and all those years of developing tough skin because of him disintegrate with just a few simple words spoken by him. Cruel words that do exactly what David intended them to do. And Nick doesn’t know who he’s angrier at. Himself – for letting this still affect him so much time later. So much after. Or David – for being a total homophobic prick whose never, ever in his life, been a good brother to Nick. All he’s ever done is what he’s doing now. Tear him down. Belittle him. Make him hate parts of himself he shouldn’t have to hate.

Nick doesn’t realize what he’s doing as he does it. But he gets up abruptly from his chair, the sound of scrapping on the floor loud and harsh.

David looks up at Nick, confusion spread across his features.

“What the fuck are you doing?” David asks him.

“Fuck you,” Nick spits out.

David looks taken aback by his words. Mainly because Nick has hardly ever spoken back to David. Much less with as much harshness as he is now. But he sees Thomas in the back of his mind. All the hurt he caused him. And then he sees Charlie. And all he wants to do is ring David’s neck in.

“Excuse me?”

 “I don’t know what the fuck you came here for, but you should’ve stayed in Glasgow playing mediocre rugby that you only get to play because dad paved the way for you.”

David stands up after that, and Nick downs the rest of his whiskey. He slams the glass down on the table, surprised he doesn’t shatter it with the force he uses to do it.

“You can thank dad for the whiskey too, since you can’t seem to be able to even afford that without him.”

“Who the fuck do you think—”

Nick leaves him with his words in his mouth. Because just then, he turns on his heel and walks away. And whether it’s to avoid a physical confrontation, or stop their embarrassing interaction in public all together, David doesn’t follow him.

Nick calls an uber for himself the moment he’s outside. He walks a couple of blocks down, waiting for it to pick him up, hoping that even if David decided to follow him outside afterwards, he won’t be able to find him. He waits at the crisp air wraps itself around him, making him feel smaller and weaker than he already does. Despite standing up to David, he still feels humiliated by him. He hates that he does.

Once the uber picks him up, and Nick is in the car, the need to be around the one person who always makes him feel better multiples. He fishes his phone out of his pocket, ignores all the pending notifications he has, and opens up his thread with Charlie.

Nick N.: Are you home?

He doesn’t even lock his phone to wait for a reply. He stares down at it, willing Charlie to text back quickly. When he sees the bubbles appear on their thread, he feels his heart ache with that same want. With that same desire.

Charlie S.: yea. got here not that long ago. are u?

Nick’s thumbs struggle to find the right words to type out.

Nick N.: Can I go over?

Charlie S.: ofc xxx.

Charlie S.: now?

Nick N.: I should be there soon.

Charlie S.: ok. let me know when ur at the door so i can open it for u.

Nick N.: Okay. Thank you.

Charlie S.: for?

Everything, Nick wants to reply.

Nick N.: Just being you.

Charlie S.: nick, is everything ok?

Things are not okay. Things are so far from okay. But when Nick is around Charlie it feels like they could be. It feels like they are. He doesn’t want to explain all of that to Charlie through a text, though he needs him to anchor his shores now more than ever. He can feel the storms brewing, the waves growing.

Nick N.: Be there soon x.

Nick locks his phone again and shuts his eyes for the rest of the ride over. It’s not too much of a long one. Forty-five minutes later, he finds himself walking up to Charlie’s door. He sends a quick text to Charlie, and no more than a minute later, Charlie is opening the door. Standing a few feet away from him. The moment their eyes meet, Nick feels the familiar feeling of calmness wash over his shores.

He feels overwhelmed by the feelings Charlie evokes out of him. The complete opposite that David does. That Harry does. That his own father does. Unlike everyone else around him that causes him despair, or distress, Charlie brings joy and tranquility, and Nick wants to bask in it until he’s painted an entirely new color that is hand-picked by Charlie Spring.

Without overthinking it, Nick rushes into Charlie’s arms. Not knowing where else he could ever feel so safe.

He can tell it catches Charlie by surprise because it takes Charlie a moment to wrap his arms around Nick back. But when he does, Nick feels enveloped by something secure, and strong. All while still holding Nick, Charlies manages to kick his front door closed. Allowing them the privacy they’re always in need of. Inside Charlie’s home, all the lights are off. The only light peeking through the common area is the light from the streets outside. It’s minimal, and Nick can hardly make anything else out. He doesn’t even know what time it is, but he imagines it’s well into the night if everyone in Charlie’s flat seems to be asleep.

Nick unburies his face from Charlie’s neck. Just far enough to get a good look at him.

“Everyone’s asleep,” he observes.

Charlie gives him a small smile, “it is kind of late.”

That’s all the confirmation Nick needs. Without giving it a second thought, Nick leans in and connects their mouths. The kiss is slow and sweet. Nick savors every second that their tongues connect, and their lips speak to one another in a language that only they understand. Every kiss with Charlie is unique, but it always evokes the same emotions in Nick’s chest. Something warm and familiar and healing.

When Nick pulls back, Charlie’s eyes are still fluttered closed. And he looks so beautiful standing so near him, his lips glossed over from just having been kissed by Nick.

“I needed that,” Nick whispers to him.

Charlie’s eyes open slowly, and they search Nick for the answers Nick has yet to give him, “let’s go to my room to talk.”

Nick nods, not wanting to untangle himself from Charlie just yet but knowing he needs a chat. He lets go of Charlie a moment later so they could comfortably walk to his room.

Once they’re inside Charlie’s bedroom, Nick collapses on Charlie’s bed. He opens his hands for Charlie to join him. Charlie kicks off his shoes and does, landing right into Nick’s arms. The weight of Charlie on Nick’s body makes him feel more grounded than ever. It makes his shores know peace again.

They stay like that for a bit, until Charlie shifts enough to make some space between them to be able to stare at Nick comfortably. He lays his head down on the pillow beside Nick, his hands underneath his head as his eyes skim across Nick’s face. He knows he’s still searching, and searching, knowing something’s wrong but not knowing what.

Nick wants to explain. But sometimes he finds it hard to express himself. But not with Charlie. With Charlie, everything is easy.

He reminds himself of that as he breathes through it.

“Nick,” Charlie says into the dead of night, “what happened?”

Nick sighs.

He looks up at Charlie’s ceiling, the night’s events replaying through his mind.

“All I wanted to do tonight was this,” Nick starts, “I just wanted to be here. With you. Pretending that everything outside of here doesn’t exist but then David, and just the universe, had to remind me that this isn’t always our reality. And it sucks.”

Charlie doesn’t reply right away, though Nick feels him staring the entire time.

Nick turns his head to look back at Charlie, “I’m really sorry for everything that happened on the field. I handled it horribly. I – I wanted everything to stop but it was like I couldn’t even speak.”

Charlie, again, doesn’t reply immediately. He just looks at Nick, and Nick has never wanted to be able to look into Charlie’s mind more. To know what he’s thinking. To know if he thinks of Nick as little as he thinks of himself. He wouldn’t blame him if he did, but it wouldn’t crush him any less if he did either.

“I could tell that you were… I don’t know – not yourself?” Charlie says, almost as if he’s doubting his own observation.

“I wasn’t. Or – I didn’t feel like it. Charlie, I’m so, so sorry. I know that was uncomfortable for you.”

Charlie doesn’t deny it, and it makes Nick feel so guilt ridden.

“Nick, it’s okay. Really, I can’t imagine being in your shoes,” Charlie says gently, but then, Nick can tell there’s more he’s about to say. And whatever he’s going to say next is going to hurt Nick, even if he isn’t going to say it with that intention.

“But,” Charlie starts, “just – did you actually say that about Amaya? About how you stopped sleeping with her because you were tired of sleeping with the same person?”

Nick shuts his eyes and breathes in roughly. He can’t even look at Charlie, feeling completely unworthy of his company as he turns his head back towards the ceiling. He can’t lie to Charlie, but the truth isn’t one he wishes he had to share with him.

When he opens his eyes, he still can’t bring himself to look at Charlie as he answers.

“It was something I said to Cristian a long time ago,” Nick answers truthfully, “it was during music night, and it was really just to get him off my back. He was questioning me about Amaya and I because it was right after we – well, things we weird between us because I essentially couldn’t get it up when I had called her over for sex one night. And I just – I didn’t know how to explain to him what was actually going on between us because I barely understood it. I know it doesn’t make it okay. I never should’ve said it. It was far from the truth of how I felt, and it was a horrible thing to say about her.”

Nick knows his answer feels like a ramble. But he can’t stop himself from trying to keep Charlie from thinking much less of him.

“What is the reason you stopped sleeping around with her?” Charlie asks, which isn’t what Nick expected him to take away from everything he just said, “if – if things had been weird during music night, it feels like it wasn’t that long ago that you did sleep together.”

Nick turns his head to face Charlie again, because as hard as it is to face him during this difficult conversation, the last thing Nick wants is any doubt manifesting in Charlie’s mind that he isn’t the only person Nick wants with all his body, mind, and soul.

“It was at the very beginning of term. And it was a mistake. We hadn’t been sleeping together before that and the only reason I called her over was because I was trying to bury everything I was feeling. I almost just wanted things to feel like they did before but – it didn’t help. It didn’t make me feel any better or change things back to how they were before… everything. It only solidified that I really no interest in her left. Not even physical interest. And something about me had changed. Was different. And I couldn’t just keep running from it.”

Nick pauses only to catch his breath. And then he continues.

“And then I met you. And I knew we’d never be able to have anything like what we did before, me and Amaya. I wanted you and only you. And I wanted you more than I’d ever wanted anyone in my life. I never craved someone’s attention as much as I did yours.”

Nick watches as his words cause one corner of Charlie’s mouth to lift. He knows he might’ve just said the right thing, but he didn’t say it for that reason. He said it because it’s the truth. Because despite how much Nick tried to fight the attraction he felt towards Charlie, not just physically but all around, it was always a losing battle. Charlie had him hooked from the moment Nick laid eyes on him. And he had him locked in from the moment he spoke his first words to him.

Nick was a goner from the beginning.

“Is all of that true or are you trying to charm me?” Charlie asks teasingly.

“I promise it’s true,” Nick answers sincerely, “but Charlie I – I don’t know how to be this honest with anyone else. I don’t know how to express myself this easily with anyone who isn’t you. Which is why I say the wrong thing, or nothing at all. It’s like – you’re the only person I can be myself around. My real self.”

At Nick’s admittance, Nick watches Charlie’s smile slip from his mouth. He wishes he could return it, but he enjoys being honest with Charlie. Like he’s just told him, he’s the only person in his life he feels he can be that honest with.

“Nick, I’m sure if you opened up to your friends, explained these things to them, they wouldn’t judge you for it. Or think negatively of you. They care about you.”

“I know,” Nick says, though he’s not sure if he does, “I just find it so hard to do. Maybe it’s because David always made me feel weak when I expressed emotions. He would constantly tell me that being that emotional was gay and he said it in a way that would make me feel ashamed of it. Or maybe I’m just a coward. I don’t know I –”

“Nick, you’re not a coward,” Charlie quickly says, “you’re not. And your brother truly sounds like the worst person so I have no idea how you’re related. He sounds especially horrible for making you feel bad or shameful for having and expressing your feelings. It’s actually one of my favorite things about you. How you just say how you feel, and I can tell you’re doing that and not just trying to say the right thing.”

Nick feels his heart expand, making room for Charlie’s kindness and getting rid of all the negativity that has lived in it in the past.

“He always made me think I needed to hate that about myself,” Nick feels Charlie’s fist around his heart, “and you’re one of the only people that has made me think I shouldn’t.”

“You shouldn’t,” Charlie reiterates, and then he places a soft hand on Nick’s face that feels so loving Nick’s eyes close at the touch, “the way you wear your heart on your sleeve is one of the things I like the most about you.”

Nick places his hand over Charlie’s. Going just off touch, Nick brings Charlie’s hand to his lips, placing a soft yet firm kiss to the back of Charlie’s hand.

When Nick opens his eyes, his pleased to see Charlie’s face closer to his.

I think I might love you.

“I wish everyone else made me feel the way you do,” Nick whispers, “maybe then I wouldn’t find it so hard to be myself, my actual self, around other people.”

“Well, I don’t think I wish for the same thing. I wouldn’t want everyone to make you feel like I do,” Charlie says playfully.

It gets Nick to laugh.

“Obviously not like that,” Nick clarifies, though he’s sure he doesn’t need to.

“I know,” Charlie giggles, “but Nick you’ll get there. It can be hard to be yourself around most people.”

“It isn’t hard with you,” Nick tells him, “Everything feels easy with you. I don’t need to – I don’t even have to try.”

Charlie’s the one to close the gap between them, his warm lips coming over Nick’s once more. But Nick is the one who pulls him in closer, one hand on Charlie’s waist as he brings him flush against his own body. Nick is the one to deepens the kiss, parting Charlie’s lips with his tongue. He kisses Charlie slowly, like he’s savoring the taste of him in his mouth. Perhaps he is. Perhaps he never wants to forget it.

When Charlie breaks away, Nick is only slightly disappointed. He would be fully disappointment if he didn’t need to catch his breath.

“I love the way you kiss,” Charlie says against his lips.

Nick gives Charlie a light peck, “I love kissing you.”

“Me too,” Charlie says, “and as much as I’d love to keep doing it right now, I think we need to keep talking.”

Nick doesn’t disagree but he feels his nerves return at Charlie’s suggestion.

“Okay,” Nick says.

            Charlie lays back down next to Nick, exactly like he was before he moved to kiss him.

            “What else happened tonight? Where did you go with David?”

            Nick knows Charlie’s not fishing to see if Nick will give him accurate information. Charlie’s not that kind of person, and besides that, there would have been no way for him to know. He knows he’s asking because he sensed Nick’s desperation in his texts, and how much he didn’t want to be out with David. Charlie knows because he knows Nick.

            Nick just knows that everything about what he’s about to tell him is going to make Charlie uncomfortable. Maybe even insecure.

            It would have that same effect on him.

            “David took us to a gentlemen’s club,” Nick replies, trying to make it sound like it isn’t a big deal, “and he was just going on and on about the game. And me getting to the pro leagues. Basically, trying to get in my head about how I play. Make me feel like I’m not good enough. That wasn’t really the part that upset me. I’m used to that from him.”

            “You shouldn’t have to be,” Charlie tells him, “Just because he’s always done it, doesn’t make it okay.”

            Nick knows Charlie is right, but he also knows it doesn’t matter. David’s never going to change.

            He tells Charlie as much.

            “David’s never going to change,” Nick knows, “so I just try and ignore him. Keep my skin as thick as possible whenever he’s around. Which to be fair, isn’t often. Which was why I was so surprised to see him there tonight.”

            Charlie nods, not in a way that feel like understanding but in a way that feels like acceptance.

            “So, if it wasn’t that – then, what happened?” Charlie asks again.

            Nick sighs once more, “he called over one of the girls there. Wanted her to give me a lap dance in a private room and was being suggestive of it being more. I – I’ve never liked those things even when I’ve been well, you know, like, single. But I wouldn’t – it felt extremely wrong to do it now that we’re, you know. This.”

            Charlie’s smile peeks through, “right.”

            Nick clears his throat, “so I said no. I told her I was seeing someone and wasn’t comfortable with it and that’s when he – well he basically made fun of me for it, called me a pussy and sensitive. Again, nothing new. But then he brought up,” Nick pauses momentarily before saying his name to Charlie. Sometimes it still feels weird, “he brought up Thomas. He called him that boy I kissed. Told me it was no wonder I’d gotten caught doing that then said he wasn’t sure how I wasn’t entirely gay, and I don’t know – I tuned out the rest of what he saying and just lost it.”

            “Did you hit him?” Charlie asks concerned.

            Nick shakes his head, “no, no. As much of a prick my brother is, and as much as he probably deserved for me to, I wouldn’t actually ever lay my hands on him. I just told him to fuck himself. Insulted his entire way of living and walked out. He didn’t follow me thankfully. But the whole thing just made me feel… it made me feel….”

            “Awful,” Charlie finishes for him.

            It’s worse than that. The whole thing made him feel worse than awful. But he just nods like that’s exactly it because he’s not sure he’s ready to open that can of worms tonight.

            “Nick, none of what he said tonight is a reflection of who you actually are. It’s just a reflection of him. You’re a respectful person. A loyal partner. All qualities you should be proud of, not ashsmed of. I’m proud of you,” Charlie says, and the words feel like they’re single handedly healing all of the cuts David made on his skin tonight, “thank you for – for not just going on with it for the sake of seeming cool or you know, not speaking up. I really… I wouldn’t have liked it if that happened. I know we’re not like, together, together—”

            Nick stops his right there. He takes Charlie’s face in his hands.

            “Charlie, you’re my person. I know things are still complicated and we’re still figuring things out, but I respect what we have. I respect you.”

            “I know,” Charlie says, barely above a whisper.

            “You’re the only person I wanted to be with tonight.”

            “Me too.”

            “I--,” think I might love you, “can I stay here tonight?” Nick asks, his words surprising even himself.

            He doesn’t miss the way Charlie’s eyes open a tad bit wider at the question.

            “Uhm, yes. Yeah, of course. Just – my flat mates are here. They’ll be here in the morning, I don’t know how we’ll sneak you out—”

            “We don’t have to. Just tell them I stumbled here extremely drunk and crashed,” Nick thinks of on the spot, “or whatever clever excuse you can come up with. It doesn’t really matter I – I just want to be with you.”

            Charlie smiles. And Nick smiles back.

            “Okay.”

            Nick rolls so that he’s laying down on Charlie’s chest. He wraps his arms around Charlie’s middle, puts his ear right over Charlie’s heart. He hears the beat of it through his flesh and bones and hopes that somewhere in that sound he lives.

            “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t think I have the energy for much more than this tonight. I just want to be close to you.”

            Nick is confounded by his own words but knows them to be true. As much as he loves being physically intimate with Charlie, and expressing his feelings in that way, tonight he only has the energy to be held by him. Or hold him. Be close to him by simply having his arms around him.

            Charlie’s hand comes up to scratch at the back of Nick’s neck, and the feeling of it is so different than the one that the woman had given him at the club doing the exact same thing. With her it felt almost gross, with Charlie it feels like coming home.

            “I wouldn’t take that the wrong way,” Charlie says above his head, “I like just being close to you too.”

            “Mmm, don’t lie,” Nick teases, “you use me for my dick.”

            Charlie cackles and playfully smacks Nick’s arm, and Nick laughs against his chest, and everything feels so much lighter than it’s felt all night. It’s all Nick’s wanted, and he feels so much peace finally getting it.

            They talk a bit about Charlie’s night out, then about the movie Charlie had picked out, then about movies in general. And they talk and they talk, and they talk – just like they did the first night Charlie confessed his feelings to Nick and accidentally stayed over. They talk until they drift. But this time Nick doesn’t stay over accidentally. He stays over purposefully.

            And there’s something poetic about that.

Chapter Text

The end of October rolls around sooner than Charlie anticipated it would. The sands of time move through the hourglass, and before Charlie knows it, it’s the last week of the month. He knows there’s a saying that could accurately encapsulate just how he got to the end of the month without feeling time actually passing him by. Something like, ‘time flies when you’re having fun.’ And Charlie had never understood that to be true before now. But then, he doesn’t think he’s ever had as much fun as he’s having these days. He knows he owes a lot of that credit to Nick.

Another thing Charlie is learning as the end of the month approaches, and Halloween is less than a week away, is that amongst his new friend group, Halloween is a very big deal.

“No, no,” Tara protests, “a pirate theme vastly limits people’s choice of costumes and what is the fun in that?”

“But it’s so much easier to find the décor for!” Darcy argues, “and really, just because the theme of the party is pirate themed doesn’t mean that people have to come dressed as pirates.”

“How does that make any sense, Darcy?” Tara fights back.

“What do you mean, Jonesy? It’s Halloween! People can dress however they want. We just want a pirate themed party!”

“‘ We’ is too many people. And it is going to be extremely confusing! If we have such a specific theme like that, people are going to assume they have to come dressed on theme.”

“I’m on Tara’s side on this one,” Amy jumps in, “Sorry, Darce but that’s not making much sense. If you make it pirate themed, whether you tell me to or not, I’m going to feel obligated to come dressed as a pirate.”

“And an entire room of people dressed as pirates?” Jess clicks her tongue, “how boring.”

“You know what, I will not have you two gang up on me. Let’s hear from our beloved Charles,” Darcy directs the question to Charlie, “Charles, what do you think? Should we go with a very basic spooky theme like my beloved wants or shall we make it fun and go with golds, ships, and pirates?”

Charlie feels the attention on him, and though he isn’t one to like much attention on him, he likes that his friends value him enough to ask his opinion on things. Even if it’s something as silly as how to decorate their annual Halloween party.

“I think whatever theme you go with, I’ll be just as excited to attend,” Charlie starts, being sincere and kind before crushing Darcy’s spirit of a themed party, “but I do think a theme will make everyone feel required to dress a certain way, so my vote is just to go with something more generic to Halloween.”

Darcy kicks her feet and throws her hand in the air, signaling her inability to accept her defeat. Amy and Tara high five for getting Charlie’s vote. Charlie laughs at all their reactions.

“Charlie is the brightest of all of us, we should listen to him,” Tara says, smiling at Charlie.

“Alright, whatever,” Darcy groans, crossing her arms over her chest and pouting. She looks like a child that’s just been told she can’t have any morecandy. Tara puts her arms around Darcy and pulls her in, cooing at her and telling her it’s okay like a mother coddling the child with a sweet tooth. The whole thing is both bizarre and adorable, and when Tara kisses the pout off Darcy’s lips and it seems to literally melt off her, transforming her lips into a bright smile, Charlie stares at their entire exchange longingly.

He can’t help it as he watches the way they openly exchange affection no matter who is around. It tugs at something buried deep in his chest. Something he tries not to think about too often.

When will Nick and I be able to do that?

The question speaks itself in his mind, asking what his heart tries to ignore.

Things with Nick have been good. They’ve been more than good. They’ve been great. After Nick stayed over that night he’d unwillingly gone out with his brother, they had to give an explanation that Charlie is sure none of his roommates actually believed. Since then, Charlie’s felt like their relationship has just been on a steady incline. They’ve grown closer, with Nick continuing to let Charlie in. Continuing to be open and honest and Charlie showing him the exact same grace. They’ve spent a lot of time together, either locked up in Charlie’s four walls or Nick’s. They watch movies, and joke around, and talk about anything and everything, and whenever they’ve gotten those moments of privacy, they tend to have a lot of mind-blowing sex that always leaves Charlie pining over going just a little bit further. Taking what feels like that final step they still haven’t taken when it comes to their physical intimacy. Which is another thing that sometimes puzzles Charlie—why exactly that hasn’t happened yet.

But what they have is enough. It’s more than enough.

Charlie’s never felt more comfortable with anyone else in his life.

But then there’s the unwavering desire that he feels grow inch by inch every day that passes. The desire to take what they’ve built inside their four walls outside of it. The desire to be able to hold Nick’s hand as he walks him to get coffee every morning. The desire to kiss him goodbye just before they part because Charlie has to go into his lecture. The desire to be able to just be however he wants to be with Nick no matter who is around or where they are. It’s a desire that Charlie tries not to let consume him because he knows Nick is not ready for any of those things. He knows that Nick’s struggles with the clash of his sexuality and his hetero-masculine presentation are beyond what Charlie can understand. He struggled with himself for a while too, but for entirely different reasons. And so, knows that those days might be ahead, but the timeline is not one that Charlie can predict. Maybe because there really isn’t one. They’re taking it all day by day. And Charlie is truly understanding of it. He's understanding of it because Nick is worth whatever amount of time it does take. He knows that. He knows that in the way his heart nearly jumps out of his chest with just a single glance from Nick. He knows that in the way his hands feel like they’re touching art whenever he touches Nick. He knows that because what they have is not like what he’s ever had with anyone else. But even knowing all of that, doesn’t stop the want of those other things from existing. They don’t just simply vanish because Charlie is logical.

Charlie may be logical but love hardly ever is.

And love is blooming inside of Charlie. The roots have been planted, and they’ve started to spread. The grass has grown, a more vibrant shade of green than Charlie’s ever known.

“What’re you smiling about over there, Charles?” Amy’s voice cuts through Charlie’s day dreaming.

Charlie snaps his head up, not realizing he’d even put it down to begin with.

“The party,” he lies.

Amy narrows her eyes at him, “you’re so excited for the party it has you cheesing like a dope?”

Charlie rolls his eyes, “piss off.”

Amy laughs at his expense and Charlie ignores her.

“Well, that concludes today’s meeting everyone,” Manny’s voice echoes from the other side of the room. Charlie turns his head to look over.

He’s standing at the podium, speaking directly into the mic and looking at those sitting closer to him. He and Charlie haven’t had a proper conversation in weeks. Charlie doesn’t really care – he meant it when he told Nick he couldn’t be bothered to. But sometimes it is more awkward than Charlie believes is necessary between them.

“We hope everyone has a lovely Halloween weekend. A reminder that Tara’s annual Halloween party is this weekend at the LGBTQ+ Society house that we hardly ever use, but for Tara’s party – it’s a must,” he points over to Tara, who raises her hands and claps for herself. Darcy cheers the loudest for her, despite not getting her way with the theme. “Shout out to Tara for always making it a massively fun party that you don’t want to miss out on. We hope most of you can make it! But if not, see you next Wednesday.”

Everyone stands to gather their things and get going. Charlie is the most eager, as right after this he’s meeting Nick in his flat for their weekly French study session. But he hangs back a bit, because there’s something he wants to ask.

When the rest of the gang is distracted talking about their own costumes and a plan to buy décor, Charlie gently places a hand on Tara’s forearm. He tugs lightly, enough to pull her aside from their group. She goes with ease, even if she gives Charlie a look that tells him she’s a bit caught off guard by his movements.

“Sorry, I just wanted to ask you something without Amy overhearing it and making it a bigger deal than necessary,” Charlie explains the moment they’re secluded enough from their other friends.

Tara chuckles, “she definitely has a problem with meddling. What’s up?”

“Definitely,” Charlie agrees, though Amy has really gotten better at respecting Charlie’s boundaries since their conversation, “um, I know the party is mainly like members of this society and obviously it’s your party so I would never – I would never want to intrude but I was just wondering if maybe – if possibly it would –”

“You want to invite Nick?” Tara finishes for him, putting him out of his very embarrassing misery.

Charlies breathes and nods.

Tara smiles, “Charlie, you don’t even have to ask! Of course it’s fine. I like Nick.”

“Yeah, me too,” Charlie says, almost on instinct and without thinking. “Like, as a friend. He’s gotten to be one of my closest friends. Actually, he’s like my best friend at the moment.”

Charlie tries to clarify, though what he’s saying isn’t a lie. Something he particularly likes about whatever it is he and Nick are doing is that it doesn’t just feel like a romantic relationship. It never has. There are tones and layers of friendship to them that feed into that comfort he feels, and Charlie likes that. He more than likes it, he prefers it.

Tara smiles sweetly at him, “I can definitely see that. But yeah, it’s no problem, Charlie. And if he wants to invite the rest of the lads that’s fine too. I’m sure Daisy’s already bringing Cristian so they might as well all come!”

Charlie could practically hug Tara with gratitude. Gratitude for doing exactly what Charlie wanted, which was for her to not give greater meaning to him wanting to invite Nick. Whether she believes Charlie only cares for him platonically or not, she doesn’t push or make sly comments or insinuations. She just took what he asked and what he said for face value and left her own opinions out of it. He appreciates that. And he is grateful, of course, for her also allowing Charlie to even invite Nick, and not even just Nick but his closest friends too. Something he's sure will just make Nick feel overall more comfortable in attending. But as much as Charlie could hug her for all the gratitude he feels for her at the moment, he’d rather not draw attention to their side conversation.

“Thanks, Tara,” Charlie smiles, squeezing her shoulder.

Tara pushes playfully at Charlie’s shoulder, “don’t be silly. No need to thank me for that.”

Charlie thinks he very much does, but he doesn’t argue with her. He smiles and leaves it at that. They walk back to their friend group who are still in deep discussion about the party and definitely didn’t notice their side conversation. Tara has to practically push them all out the door and even then, they’re still talking about. Charlie just watches in amusement, too entertained by all the chatter to notice who’s waiting for them when they walk outside.

“Amaya,” Jess says, noticing her first.

At the sound of her name, Charlie watches how quickly Amy’s attention switches. Whatever words were coming out of her mouth dissolve on her tongue as she snaps her head to look at  Amaya.

Amy’s mouth twitches at the sight of Amaya, though Charlie can tell she’s trying not to show too much of her excitement. It’s in part because Amy is prideful and stubborn, not giving in easily to vulnerability. But also because Jess is standing right next to her, and though she knows something is going on between Amy and Amaya, and she was the one who wanted Amy to move on, Amy still finds the whole thing weird. Charlie understands. Even with everything going on between Amy and Amaya, Charlie can still find it unnerving to be around her and Nick at the same time. Not that it happens often, but at times when they’ve come to the flat together, Amaya for Amy and Nick for Charlie, Charlie feels that bit of jealousy reignite in the pit of his stomach.

“Amaya,” Amy repeats, but the way she speaks her name is wrapped around something entirely different than when Jess did, “this is a surprise.”

“I think that was the point of me showing up without you knowing I would,” Amaya says, a bit of snark to her tone because despite all her reformations, Charlie thinks that’s just the kind of person Amaya is to her core. Amy seems to like it.

“Smart,” Amy says, though the way one corner of her mouth lifts betrays her.

“Nick and I were just getting some smoothies and decided to just come here and walk with you to your flat since we’re heading that way anyway,” Amaya explains, and the moment she does, two things happen.

The first is that the bit of jealousy that still exists for Charlie over Nick and Amaya pulses inside of him. The second is Charlie’s attention is quickly being grabbed, by all ten fingers, by Nick at the mere mention of his name. The moment Charlie’s mind makes out that Nick must be near, his whole body is sucked in by Nick’s presence. Like a black hole devouring everything around it, Nick’s presence takes over all of Charlie’s senses. His head immediately turns his body just knowing Nick is going to be right there. And his body is correct, as it usually is when it comes to Nick Nelson. Because there he is, leaning against the wall a few feet away from them. Their eyes meet almost immediately, and the first thing Charlie is aware of is how much brighter they look. He’s sure that has to do with the olive Adidas jumper Nick is wearing. It makes the color of his hair, eyes, and even matching freckles stand out more and Charlie is thankful for that. Because the sight of Nick is a medicine to his heart. To his mind too.

Nick waves, and Charlie doesn’t waste a second longer to close the space between them.

It’s one of those moments where Charlie wishes their relationship had progressed far past the need for discretion. Because his body is screaming at him to wrap his arms around Nick. To pull him close. Hold him there. Place his lips on his. But he does none of that. He can’t.

So, Charlie smiles and just asks, “what’re you doing here?”

Nick shrugs, noncommittally, “what Amaya said – surprising you and walking with you over to your flat.”

“Sweet of you,” Charlie says, “both of you actually. I’m sure Amy is dying on the inside.”

When he turns to look back, he sees Amaya standing next to Amy, Amy’s arm wrapped around Amaya’s waist just as Amaya laughs at something Darcy’s said. He sees the way Amy’s smile is impenetrable around Amaya’s presence. Amy and Charlie have talked a lot about Amy and Amaya’s budding relationship. Every time Amy’s played it cool, saying that they’re just casually seeing where things are going and enjoying the sex. But each time Charlie sees them together, he sees the light in Amy’s eyes return—the light that had been dimmed, likely because of her relationship with Jess. And the more times he sees them together, the brighter he sees that light get. He thinks Amy is far more gone than she even understands.

When Charlie turns to comment on it to Nick, Nick isn’t looking over at their friends. He’s looking right at Charlie.

There’s something about the way Nick just looks at him that makes Charlie’s insides explode. Suddenly, whatever he was about to say about Amy and Amaya is unimportant, and he’s in a rush to get home.

“Ready to go?” Charlie asks, trying his best to not sound like he is.

Nick nods, and pushes himself off the wall, “Let’s go. Should we get Amy and Amaya?”

Charlie doesn’t particularly care. He just wants to get Nick inside his bedroom. And maybe inside him, finally.

“Sure,” Charlie turns his head again towards the girls, “Amy, we’re heading out! Are you ready?”

When Amy catches Charlie’s eyes, her hand that was resting right on Amaya’s hip slips away, “Yeah. We’re going.”

         Amy’s head spins, looking behind her then to the side. Charlie knows who she’s looking for. Jess – who isn’t around. Charlie didn’t even notice when she left. It seems neither did Amy.

         “Where’s Jess?” Charlie hears Amy ask Tara and Darcy.

         “She must’ve left,” Darcy shrugs.

         Amy looks around again, to make sure she’s truly gone, Charlie presumes. And she is.

         “Okay then,” Amy says, accepting that she missed it. Accepting, maybe, what that may mean, “See you lot later.”

         Amy and Amaya make their way toward Nick and Charlie, and everyone waves goodbye to each other. Something Charlie is grateful for over having to say formal goodbyes and prolonging his alone time with Nick further. Alone time that his body is craving. 

         Amaya and Amy walk a few steps behind Nick and Charlie, and by the time they reach their flat, Amy is too distracted by Amaya to seem to care about whatever it is Charlie and Nick will do. They stumble to Amy’s room, not a single clever remark from Amy directed at Nick and Charlie. A change from when Amy’s on her own and Nick comes over.

         When Nick and Charlie make it to the vicinity of his room, Charlie says, “I think I like Amaya for Amy. She really keeps her preoccupied from her natural inclinations to meddle.”

         Nick laughs as he kicks off his shoes, a habit that Charlie knows means they’ll be studying on his bed tonight. Which Charlie knows also means that maybe they won’t be studying for too long.

         “Amaya was telling me earlier that she’s really enjoying their time together. And I don’t think she was just talking about the sex,” Nick says.

         Charlie’s going to comment on it, but then forgets entirely what he was going to say the moment he sees Nick coming closer to him. They’ve kissed over a dozen times. They’ve even done a hell of a lot more than kissing more times than that – and yet every time Nick walks up to Charlie just like he is now, and Charlie knows they’re about to kiss again, the butterflies lining his stomach flap their wings, coming to life with the anticipation of it.

         “Hi,” is the only word Charlie manages to speak when Nick is standing right in front of him, so close Charlie could trace every freckle on his face that he’s come to know by memory.

         “Hi,” Nick smiles, his eyes flickering down to Charlie’s mouth.

         Charlie doesn’t waste another second. Not that his body would allow him to even if his mind told him differently. He grabs Nick’s face and Nick grabs the waistline of his jeans, curling his fingers through Charlie’s belt loops. He pulls Charlie in from there, and Charlie goes with ease. And then they’re kissing, and Charlie can feel those same butterflies that had just started to flutter their wings take flight in his stomach. They make him feel hazy with emotion. A mixture of lust and love that always exists anytime Charlie gets to do this with Nick.

         Nick’s hands travel from Charlie’s belt loop to his hips, going under the bottom hem his shirt. He rubs circles on Charlie’s hips as the kiss grows in intensity, and Charlie feels that light that only Nick can access turn on inside him. He feels himself grow desperate again for that closeness, for that intimacy that makes him feel like their souls really are tied together. Sometimes he can’t imagine that they aren’t. Not when Nick is the only person to ever make him feel like this. Not when Nick kisses him like that’s what he was created for.

         It seems that they’re both in sync, because Nick’s hands continue to travel around Charlie’s body. Going from his hips to clutching onto his back, pulling him flush against his body. They’re a mess of hands and limbs and lips as they travel backwards towards Charlie’s bed that luckily still doesn’t have a single book open on it. They didn’t even get that far. And it makes Charlie feel like Nick feels exactly the way Charlie does. That he needs him just as much—wants him just as badly.

         Charlie falls onto his bed first, pulling Nick down with him. The weight of Nick over him isn’t one that feels crushing, but the exact opposite. It feels curing to have Nick all over him like this.

         When they finally break their kiss, Charlie’s panting. His chest heaving from the intensity of it all, and his dick is rock hard, straining against his jeans.

         Nick kisses the tip of Charlie’s nose gently before pulling away enough to get a good look at him. Some of his hair falls into his face, and Charlie can’t help himself from lifting a hand to push it back. Nick nuzzles into the touch, and Charlie’s head can’t compute how he got this lucky.

         “I know we’re meant to be studying,” Nick says above him, “but I’m not going to lie – this is all I’ve been able to think about today.”

         Just as he says it, Nick traces his thumb on Charlie’s wet bottom lip. It’s so reminiscent of the first time they ever did this. When this thing between them first started. Even though it hasn’t actually been that long, it feels like it because of the pace that Charlie’s feelings have grown. He’s tried to be cautious with them, but they haven’t cared to listen. His heart has thrown caution to the wind and stamped Nick all over it.

         “I never get tired of being this close to you,” Charlie says, because his heart is a fool for Nick Nelson.

         Nick smiles, in that lop-sided way that Charlie will always attribute with him, “me either.”

         “We can study later,” Charlie says, with finality because there’s no way they’re stopping now, “this is more important right now.”

         “Oh, I agree.”

         And just like that, they’re kissing again.

  ​​Their hands clutch onto every bit of each other’s skin that they can, until eventually they’re removing each other’s clothes. In swift movements they’ve come to recognize. It’s always like this when they’re intimate – hasty, like they can’t wait to feel skin on skin, but sensualistic – like they want to remember every bit of what it feels like. It’s truly the best sex Charlie’s ever had, and they haven’t even gone all the way yet. Nick traces kisses down Charlie’s jawline while his other hand gently strokes his exposed dick, which is hard and leaking on Charlie’s lower belly.

         “Tell me what you want, baby,” Nick’s lips whisper against Charlie’s skin.

         Charlie knows exactly what he wants from Nick. He wants him to fuck him. To open him slow and sweet, just like he’s sure Nick would, and then fuck him hard like he’s desperate to feel every bit of Charlie just like Charlie is desperate to feel every inch of Nick. But he doesn’t know why he can’t just say it—why the words won’t escape his mouth and make their way to Nick’s ears.

         You’re scared of getting rejected, the unkind voice in Charlie’s brain makes an appearance, and you should be, there’s a reason he hasn’t fucked you yet. He doesn’t want to.

         He shuts his eyes, like that’ll make the voice shut off too. It hasn’t been as prominent lately. Charlie knows it really only comes out when he’s anxious and unsure of a situation – much like he is about why he and Nick haven’t had penetrative sex yet. He doesn’t even realize how long he’s taken to answer until he feels Nick’s lips leave his skin, leaving him feeling naked and alone.

         When he opens his eyes to search for where they went, he sees Nick hovering above him, his expression pinched.

         “Char,” Nick looks down at him, lines of concern forming between his brows, “are you okay?”

         “Yeah,” Charlie replies quickly, not wanting Nick to be able to read all of the insecurities floating through his mind, “I just…”

         His voice trails off, unable to say what he’s thinking. What he’s feeling. This happens to him often – Charlie clamming up when he should speak. He’s envious of Nick sometimes. For being so secure and sure of Charlie that he doesn’t have a problem saying how he feels.

         “Tell me,” Nick requests, his voice low as his hand comes up to hold one half of Charlie’s face.

         Fuck me. Please, fuck me.

         “Can we do that thing we did the other day? Where I was laying on your chest and you were, you know,” Charlie says, going shy at the end and not being able to complete his request. He’s sure just by the smile on Nick’s face that he knows exactly what Charlie is asking for.

         “Of course,” Nick says, his thumb caressing Charlie’s cheekbone, “you enjoyed that?”

         Charlie more than enjoyed it – he couldn’t stop thinking about it for days after it happened. It was just intimate, and romantic and sexy as hell. He could feel all of Nick’s muscles on his back tensing as he grew aroused from the way he was making Charlie feel. He could feel Nick’s hot breath on his ear as they both grunted and panted while Nick used one of his hands to expertly jerk him off and he used the other to finger his asshole as Charlie sat back with his legs spread open for him. It took Nick a little bit to find his prostate but once he did, it was explosive. In every sense of the word. It was the most convinced Charlie’s been during their intimate moments that they’d have sex right after. But it still didn’t happen.

         He’s not sure it’ll change today. But he’s willing to go for it again anyway.

         “Very much,” Charlie breathes.

         “Okay,” Nick says, and starts to move himself off Charlie so they can get into position against Charlie’s bedframe.

         Just then, Charlie places a hand on Nick’s bicep, anchoring him down still. He tries his best to be brave enough to ask for a fraction of what he actually wants.

         “Nick,” Charlie speaks, his eyes looking right into Nick’s, “I want two fingers this time.”

         Charlie doesn’t miss the way Nick’s eyes grow a bit in size, like he’s caught off guard by the request. Charlie wishes he could decipher whether that surprise was good or bad, but he can’t. He feels his heartbeat pick up as he waits for Nick to say something.

         “Okay, yeah,” Nick concedes, but there’s something in the tone of his voice that doesn’t convince Charlie that this is something he necessarily wants too, “whatever you want. You let me know when you’re ready for another, yeah?”

         Charlie nods, not knowing how to feel about any of it. Which is the worst part because he loves these moments with Nick. Everything about them. Nick’s attentiveness. The sounds he makes. The way they feel practically wearing each other’s skin. But there’s some sort of precariousness clinging to the air around them now and Charlie’s not sure where it’s coming from. And he’s also not sure if it’s just his mind playing tricks on him, feeding right into all the things Charlie’s not confident about in himself.

         Charlie tries not to let his overthinking ruin their moment. He tries to enjoy the view of Nick setting up the pillows by Charlie’s headboard to make it more comfortable for them both.

         No one could ever deny the beauty of Nick Nelson. Every curvature outlining his body. Every muscle underneath his skin. Every freckle adorning his flesh. Every single piece of Nick Nelson looks like it was crafted to perfection individually to then be pieced together and create the beautiful image that is Nick. Charlie can’t ever get enough of watching him do anything. Naked or clothed. But his eyes are extremely blessed when he gets to see him like he is now – naked and completely bare before him.

         When Nick turns and sits back, he spreads his legs open making the perfect space for Charlie to slot right into. His dick lays flat against his abdomen, thick and fully hard. He looks at Charlie with wanton eyes that do away with whatever Charlie was just feeling insecure about as he calls him over with a gesture of two fingers. Two fingers Charlie hopes are buried deep inside him soon enough.

         Charlie crawls up his bed, not breaking eye contact with Nick the entire time he does it. When he reaches him, he doesn’t turn around immediately. Instead, he gets up on his knees and grabs at Nick’s face, kissing him with every bit of passion he feels burning up inside him. What was once a spark now feels like a raging wildfire.

         Nick pulls away, “turn around.”

         Charlie doesn’t need to be told twice.

         He turns and sits right in the space Nick created for him. He can feel all of Nick’s chest against his back, the rapid beating of his heart. He can feel his dick too, hard and hot against the small of Charlie’s back. As Charlie positions himself comfortably, his legs bent at the knee outside of where Nick’s legs are laying straight on the bed, Nick grabs Charlie's lube. 

         He hears the sound of Nick uncapping it and squeezing a sizable amount onto the palm of his hand.

Charlie releases some of the air filling his lungs, and lays his head back on Nick’s shoulder as he waits to be touched by him.

He doesn’t wait long.

A moment later, Nick is stroking him slowly. The lube is a bit cold, but it feels good as Nick moves his hand up and down, warming it up and giving Charlie that oh-so-good feeling. It doesn’t take too long for the noises to start leaving Charlie’s mouth—he tries to stifle them as best he can, though he’s sure Amaya and Amy are too preoccupied having their own sex to notice anything going on inside his room. Nick stays stroking Charlie at the perfect pace – neither too face nor too slow – for a bit before Charlie feels Nick lift Charlie’s hips a bit for better access.

Charlie tries not to close up, but this part, especially with Nick, always makes him both giddy and a bundle of nerves. He looks up at Nick from his shoulder, the angle not giving him much of a view of Nick’s face but enough for Charlie to see the look of concentration etched into his features as Nick starts teasing his hole. He starts slowly, circling Charlie’s entrance with his index finger at a very slow pace. Much slower than he’s jerking him off. He watches Nick bite his lower lip as he continues to tease Charlie’s hole while his other hand slows in pace as well.

It's excruciating, the pace at which Nick is taking this, but at the same time – Charlie feels like he’s slow sipping. Getting drunk off Nick’s carefulness. His slow movements let the tension inside of Charlie’s lower abdomen build and build.

“Nick,” Charlie moans around his name, unable to help the sound from coming out. It’s needy and grateful and so many things in one.

Nick kisses down Charlie’s shoulder as he pushes a finger inside him, his other hand on his dick picking the pace back up. Charlie brings a hand up to snake around Nick’s neck. He can see his own scars from where he’s angled, which means Nick can probably see them too. Even the ones on his thighs. But it doesn’t make Charlie feel as self-conscious as it did the first time Nick ever saw him naked. Nick has a way of making him feel beautiful even when Charlie doesn’t think so.

Nick starts pumping his finger in and out of Charlie at the same pace he’s jerking him off, and they’re both a mess of groans and moans entangling themselves with one another.

“My fucking God, Charlie,” Nick says, his voice gravely with desire that Charlie’s placed there, “you sound so fucking good.”

“How –,” Charlie cuts himself off with his own moan as Nick digs inside him, searching for the soft flesh of pleasure that is somewhere inside Charlie’s hole, “h-how do I feel?”

“Even fucking better,” Nick replies instantly.

Something about being praised by Nick turns Charlie on even more. His eyes roll to the back of his head and his head goes slack as Nick continues to touch him in ways Charlie misses when he’s gone.

It takes Nick one or two more tries until he finds it and then he’s poking lightly at Charlie’s prostate. The sensation sends a shockwave from Charlie’s spine to his toes, causing them to curl with absolute pleasure.

“ Oh my god,” Charlie practically cries.

“Fuck,” Nick pants.

“I’m ready,” Charlie declares, feeling that familiar sensation circulating his blood stream that lets him know he isn’t going to last much longer.

“For?”

“Another finger,” Charlie reminds him.

That halts Nick’s movements just slightly. But he keeps it back up like it never did. He nods, and then a second later gently removes his finger from Charlie. It causes Charlie to whimper, feeling oh-so-empty without a part of Nick inside him.

Nick stops jerking Charlie momentarily as he lathers his fingers in more lube before returning them to his entrance. Charlie can feel the harsh beating of Nick’s heart on his back, and the way his breathing shallows as Nick lines them up at his entrance. Just as Charlie is about to ask Nick if he’s okay, Nick places a soft kiss on Charlie’s cheekbone.

“Tell me if I go too fast or if it hurts or feels uncomfortable at all,” Nick says against his cheek.

Charlie gives him a curt nod.

Nick eases his fingers inside Charlie again, even slower than the first time. He’s so concentrated on those movements he forgets about putting his free hand back on Charlie’s dick. Charlie can’t blame him. There’s something about touching Charlie this way that Charlie can tell makes Nick nervous. He becomes overly cautious, like he’s unsure of himself. But Charlie’s dick still throbs, feeling abandoned. So as Charlie looks down and watches Nick’s fingers disappear all the way inside him, stretching him out further in a way that burns so good, he brings a hand to wrap around his own dick and tug.

The moan he lets out at both sensations simultaneously working him is loud and salacious.

Nick doesn’t say anything. He just grabs Charlie’s hand from his own dick and places it over his own mouth. And the whole thing would be rude if it wasn’t so fucking hot to watch Nick then replace Charlie’s hand with his own on his dick and double the pace of both his hands. He strokes Charlie quicker than before, and finger fucks him just the same. It takes him a bit again to find his prostrate, but one thing no one can deny about Nick Nelson is his determination. When he finally finds it, he is relentless. He brushes up against it only three times before Charlie is a mess before him. His legs start to shake, his body starts to writhe, and he has to keep his hand over his mouth to stop himself from getting them caught with how much he can’t help the sounds he’s making.

He can feel Nick just as turned on by this as he is, his lower back becoming wet with Nick’s precome. And the whole thing is ridiculous and perfect at the same time.

He’s so close to the edge, but what sends him over is Nick lowering his head to litter Charlie’s face with kisses. They’re sloppy and wet and Charlie moves his face to give Nick better access to his neck. The moment Nick’s lips land there, Charlie’s entire body lights up. He sees explosions behind his eyelids as his body releases all of the pleasure it was accumulating for the last ten minutes.

Nick tries to catch most of Charlie’s spend in his hand, but some of it gets on Charlie’s own chest.

He couldn’t care less.

He rides the wave of his orgasm as Nick’s hands start to slow down, his fingers no longer curling inside him and going slack.

“Holy shit,” Charlie breathes, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath from one of the best orgasms he’s ever experienced, “I think that was the best orgasm I’ve ever had.”

Nick laughs against Charlie’s temple, “I can’t blame you. I almost came just from watching you.”

They just stay like that for a beat longer. And then Nick slowly removes his fingers from inside Charlie, causing Charlie to wince as he does.

Even though Charlie’s just came, he wants more of Nick. He wants to know what he feels like with more than just fingers inside him.

“I want to make you come,” Charlie says, his head turning back enough to catch a glimpse of Nick’s face. He looks flushed, his cheeks red and his pupils blown. Nick wasn’t kidding. He’s close. Charlie can get him there.

“How do you want me?” Charlie finds the courage to ask.

When Nick looks at him, Charlie can see the hunger pooling beneath his honey-comb eyes. And he hopes that hunger feels something like, ‘I want to fuck you.’

But instead, Nick says, “I want your mouth, honestly.”

Charlie hates that he feels disappointed. He would never rush Nick into anything. He’s willing to be patient when it comes to all facets of their relationship, but there are just some things he doesn’t understand. And one of those things is why Nick hasn’t wanted to fuck him yet.

Charlie tries his best not to let his disappointment show though. Instead, he smiles through his doubt and quickly gets up to give Nick what he wants. It may not be what Charlie wants, but sometimes, he thinks, in relationships you have to compromise. Even when all you want is for the other person to want the same thing as you.

“After the orgasm you just gave me, I’ll give you whatever you want,” Charlie tells him.

Nick smiles and grabs Charlie’s face, straining his neck a bit as he kisses him like he’s trying not to forget what it feels like to do that.

When Nick pulls away, he continues to hold Charlie’s face near his, “not being able to do that while I touch you like I just did is my least favorite part about it.”

You could kiss me while you fuck me, Charlie’s mind replies. He wishes it would just shut up. It’s clearly not happening. Nick, for whatever reason, clearly isn’t ready for that. And Charlie just needs to come to terms with it.

He tries to come to terms with it by just ignoring it. He gives Nick another quick peck on the lips and then starts to get himself into position to give Nick some of the most amazing head of his life. Or that’s what he hopes it feels like for him at least.

“Let me get us some wipes so we don’t destroy my sheets,” Charlie giggles, “and then I’ll come back and suck you dry.”

“ Jesus,” Nick breathes in through his nostrils, clearly liking what he’s hearing, “okay.”

Charlie does exactly as he said he would and grabs wipes from his bathroom. He cleans himself in the bathroom and brings back some to clean Nick’s hands. He’s on his knees as he does it, and he can feel Nick’s eyes boring into him. Looking at his every move carefully, with precision.

When Charlie meets his eyes, he asks, “what?” just a tad bit shyly.

Nick shakes his head, “nothing just,” Nick licks his lips, “je te trouve si attirante.”

Charlie’s eyebrows shoot up, “are lessons starting?”

Nick smiles, “je te feliciterai pendant que to me suces la bite, puis je te demanderai ce que j’ai dit apres.”

Charlie can only make out some of what Nick’s saying, but he also knows that Nick could be cursing him in French, and he’d be just as turned on by it. There’s just something about Nick speaking in French that would have Charlie wait years for him to fuck him. That’s how much Charlie enjoys it.

“Oui,” is all Charlie replies with, and it makes Nick laugh obscenely.

Charlie laughs along with him as he lowers himself to the bed, his belly flat against his sheets as he positions himself to take Nick into his mouth. Nick is still hard, though not as much as he was before. But it doesn’t take long for Charlie to get him back there. It doesn’t take long for Charlie to make him come either. Nick’s fingers get lost in Charlie’s hair as Charlie bobs his head up and down, licking at Nick expertly and taking him in his mouth the way he’s learned Nick enjoys the most. Nick speaks to him in French while he does it, but Charlie’s not paying attention to what he’s saying. He’s too focused on getting him to come down his throat.

Charlie may not always get what he wants, but sometimes he does. After only a few minutes, Nick is unloading down Charlie’s throat, and Charlie feels an air of satisfaction about it. About getting Nick there so quickly. About getting to know what he tastes like.

Nick kisses him right after, which is something else Charlie feels satisfaction over. He loves that Nick doesn’t find it gross or shy away from it. He loves that Nick likes to share anything with Charlie, especially during their moments of physical intimacy.

They kiss for a bit. Then they just lay down, holding one another during their post-sex highs. Nick’s fingers never stop skimming Charlie’s skin, and Charlie doesn’t think he’s ever felt so loved—even if Nick doesn’t love him. There’s always hints about how much he likes him in the subtlety of his movements, and Charlie feels the emotions behind each one.

Eventually, they get half-dressed and start doing what they were meant to be doing the moment they got into Charlie’s room – studying.

It’s only about halfway through their studying session, when Nick clears his throat and asks, “so, what’re your plans for Halloween this weekend?” that Charlie remembers he wanted to invite Nick to Tara’s party.

When Charlie lifts his head to look at Nick, he can see the apprehension rolling off him. Apprehension that Charlie isn’t sure the meaning of.

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that,” Charlie says.

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” he continues, “apparently Halloween’s like a really big deal to Tara and Darcy and Amy, so Tara throws a giant Halloween party every year in the LGBTQ Society’s house. Which, funny enough, I’ve never even seen.”

Nick laughs lowly, “You know, I think I’ve heard of those.”

“You have?”

Nick nods, “Yeah. Pretty sure.”

“Have you ever been?”

“No, I – well, this is really the most Tara and I have ever interacted. Before this, it was really in passing.”

“Well, she’s inviting you this year,” Charlie half-lies.

“Is she?” Nick questions.

“Yeah,” Charlie goes on, “and well, I’m not sure if you already have plans, but I’d really like you to go. With me.”

When Nick doesn’t say anything right away, Charlie feels the hot shame like liquid lava coming over his pride. It melts at it, making him feel foolish for even having said what he said. He tries to rationalize, tell his brain to stop making mountains out of molehills and that just because Nick doesn’t jump at the chance doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to take it. But when the seconds of silence continue to stretch, the fiery pit of embarrassment spreads.

“I didn’t mean like with me, with me. I meant like, I’m going, and I’d like you to go too,” Charlie tries to clarify, wondering if that’s what’s caused Nick’s muteness. A testament to Charlie’s concerns earlier about Nick’s journey of being comfortable enough to be out with Charlie not even being half-way done.

Nick scratches at his eyebrow, “no, Charlie I – I know. I mean, I figured you didn’t mean it like that. It’s not that, it’s just…”

Nick doesn’t finish, and Charlie can feel some of his patience slipping away from him. Nick is always open about positive feelings, but he seems just as closed off as Charlie is to speaking his mind when he has something more negative to say.

“It’s just…?” Charlie prods.

Nick sighs, “Harry and the team always throw a Halloween party too. And it’s not like every one of his other parties – it’s a pretty massive deal. The whole team attends, even coach Singh—although she leaves pretty quickly. The point is, if I didn’t go it’d be a big deal.”

Charlie nods along, “well, couldn’t you just do like your coach does and go and leave somewhat early enough to make it to Tara’s party?”

“You’d be okay with me showing up late?”

“Nick, I just want you to show up. If you’re a bit late, that’s okay. I could even go with you to Harry’s party first and we could head to Tara’s after together.”

When Nick doesn’t look thrilled by the suggestion, or immediately agree, Charlie feels stupid all over again. Stupid for suggesting it. Stupid for wanting it when Nick clearly doesn’t. The liquid shame returns, makes his cheeks heat.

“Char, I don’t – please, don’t take this the wrong way but I’d rather avoid having you around Harry. Anytime he’s been around you he’s just been an absolute prick. And I wish I could say that if he did it again, I’d stop him but I just – I freeze in those moments, I don’t know. I really don’t know what happens to me, but I just don’t want to put you in that situation, and I don’t want –”

Charlie puts a hand up to stop Nick from continuing to ramble. He can see his anxiety peaking, his overthinking causing his shores to build colossal waves. Charlie knows they have a heap of things to work through, but he needs to start learning that half the things Nick needs to work through are not directly tied to him. To them. But to himself. And Charlie really never wants to lose sight or understanding of that.

He places the same hand he held up on Nick’s knee in what he hopes is a comforting manner. The way Nick’s hand immediately goes over it makes him think it is.

“Nick, it’s okay. I get it,” Charlie says gently.

Nick doesn’t look convinced.

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” Charlie says, “Thank you for caring enough about me to not put me in that situation.”

“Charlie, I care so much about you. I don’t always get it right, but please know that I do.”

Charlie does know. Which is why he does his best to ignore all the things that go wrong. All the things that he can’t quite make out. Like the timeline of them going public. Or the reasons Nick hesitates to go all the way with him when it comes to their sex life. Despite all that chaos of the unknown, Charlie knows that Nick cares for him. More than most people in his life ever have.

“I do know that,” Charlie squeezes his knee, “so, don’t worry. I’ll go to Tara’s party, you’ll go to Harry’s and then you’ll meet me there, yeah?”

Nick gives him a tight-lipped smile and a nod, and Charlie knows that’s about as okay as either of them will be with the situation. They silently return to studying, neither of them having much more to say.

Then Charlie remembers the last thing he might want Nick to know about Halloween.

“Uhm, there is something else I wanted to tell you,” Charlie says.

Nick’s eyes immediately snap to his.

“I’m pretty sure Manny will be there. Not that it matters or that he’s talked to me much, but I know he can also be a bit of a dick to you.”

If history shows them anything, it’s that.

Nick makes a noise between an exhale of breath and a scoff, “definitely not worried about him. I figured he’d be there.”

“Oh, not worried about him, are you?” Charlie teases, “you’re that secure?”

“Should I not be?”

“Hmm, I don’t know. He can be sort of intimidating, don’t you think?”

Charlie’s smile betrays his coyness, but he doesn’t think it would matter anyway. Nick knows where he stands with Charlie, even if Charlie has tried his best to not be so obvious about it. He’s failed with that, and he knows it in the way Nick playfully smirks at him.

“Not a fucking chance,” Nick replies, “je sais qu’il ne t’a pas touché comme moi.”

Charlie shrugs his shoulders like he’s not sure of it, “I don’t know,” he sings, “I think maybe you should be a little intimated.”

“Oh yeah?” Nick challenges.

Charlie shrugs his shoulders again, just wanting to rile Nick up a bit.

Again, there are times where Charlie does get exactly what he wants.

A moment later, Nick is pinning Charlie to the bed and tickling him relentlessly until Charlie takes it back. And it’s playful, and fun, and enough to keep all of Charlie’s doubts about them dormant.

For the time being.

Nick takes a deep breath as he readies himself for his last practice of the week.

It isn’t the practice he’s dreading, but it’s the having to tell Harry, and subsequently the rest of his teammates, that he’ll be attending Saturday’s festivities but leaving early. He knows he has the option of just doing it and not announcing it, but he thinks it’ll just prolong the inevitable. And Harry might make it an even bigger deal at the party if Nick catches him off guard with his untimely departure. He only has the fact that Cristian is also planning to leave early with Daisy to cling onto for the hope that the news will go overly smoothly. But Harry never lets anything Nick does go over smoothly. It’s like he doesn’t have it in him to allow it.

It doesn’t help that Nick is feeling all types of nerves for Tara’s actual party too. He’s not necessarily nervous about the party itself, or the people attending. He meant it for the most part when he told Charlie he didn’t care for Manny’s presence there. But he’s more nervous about being around Charlie in such a public setting. They haven’t been around that many other people since before they confessed their feelings to each other, and the last time they did, things were so tightly wound-up Nick was almost sure he lost Charlie forever. If Charlie hadn’t shown up at his doorstep, he’s almost certain he would’ve. It feels like a lot longer than it’s actually been because they've made so much progress since then, but he knows a lot of that has to do with the fact that more than half their moments happen behind closed doors. And he knows that’s entirely because of him.

He can’t help but feel like he keeps letting Charlie down anytime they are in public together. Like every time he doesn’t reach for his hand when he wants to, he’s sure Charlie wants the same thing—is hoping for it. And every time Nick doesn’t give it to him, something eats away at them, taking bites out of this thing they’ve been carefully crafting between them. He feels it, because every time he wants to kiss Charlie hello or goodbye and it takes everything in him to hold himself back, it eats away at something inside him too. It’s the removal of large chunks made by razor-sharp teeth that make Nick feel like any progress he has made is futile.

It's a horrible feeling.

But worst of all is that Nick doesn’t know how to overcome it. And as comfortable as he’s gotten with Charlie, this is just something he can never bring himself to talk about,for the fear of Charlie realizing that Nick is so far from the finish line, and that Charlie deserves someone who’s already crossed over.

When he looks back at himself in his bathroom mirror, his rugby kit on, he can only think of one thing.

Coward.

He turns away from his own reflection and walks out of his room, checking his phone to see if there are any texts from Charlie.

There aren’t.

They haven’t spoken too much since Wednesday. Which was really only forty-eight hours ago. It shouldn’t feel like so much longer, but it does. Charlie has become such an integral part of Nick’s day to day that his absence is felt all over. Nick has wanted to rush over to his door and break it down, sneak into Charlie’s room and wrap himself around him. It is not at all rational with such little time apart which is exactly why he’s not entertained the thought. That, and he knows that Charlie’s absence isn’t all that purposeful. He’s been wrapped up going around town with his friends looking for decorations for the party, getting his costume, and really just getting everything situated. He’s not angry that Charlie’s barely been able to get up to make it to his morning lectures on time, much less get up early enough to grab coffee with him. He just misses him.

Which, again, is ridiculous.

You are so far gone, the voice in his head reminds him.

I fucking know, he bites back.

Nick is grateful that the moment he’s ready, so are the rest of the lads, so they can head out the door and Nick doesn’t have to sit as his anxiety builds. The fresh air outside should make space in his lungs to breathe. But he quickly finds that that isn’t even enough to stop his palms from going sweaty. To stop his mind from reeling at the words he’s going to have to speak to one of the most horrible people he knows and his teammates.

Cristian, Sai, and Otis are the only three that know about it, and they reacted fine because Cristian already had the same plan. Sai and Otis are still on the fence about it, knowing Harry’s Halloween party is a big deal to the team. Nick pretended to be on the fence about it too when he brought it up. Though it wasn’t entirely pretend. Nick’s anxiety about Tara’s party doesn’t have him as eager to attend as getting to spend the night with Charlie should make him. Of course, he wants to spend the night with Charlie. He wants to enjoy his company and there’s nothing more that Nick enjoys than being around Charlie’s orbit, getting to bask in his energy and be touched by it. But then there’s all the rest of it – about how he just keeps feeling inadequate when it comes to Charlie – and it puts a damper on it.

As much as he tries not to spiral on their walk over, Nick can’t help it. He tries to quiet his mind, keep his racing thoughts from speeding off the track by listening to whatever nonsense Cristian, Sai and Otis are goofing off about but it’s not enough. It’s not enough of a distraction.

By the time they make it to the changing room, Nick’s hands are so sweaty he has to wipe them on his shorts. It’s rowdy when they walk in, as it always is. He says hi in passing to some of his teammates that notice him as he walks to his locker, but he tries to keep his head down as he puts his gym bag and phone inside the locker.

“Oi, Nick, mate!” goes the very voice that makes the hair on the back of Nick’s neck stand up, “are you ready for tomorrow? It’s going to be sick, mate. Bigger than ever.”

Oh, great.

Nick doesn’t turn around immediately. He pretends to be preoccupied putting his things away as he answers, “oh yeah? I’m sure you’ve definitely outdone yourself.”

“Yes, mate,” Harry replies, not catching on to an ounce of Nick’s sarcasm, “my dad gave me a larger budget this year, so I used some of the extra cash to commission some girls dressed as sexy clowns to be passing out drinks all night. It’s going to be huge. ”

Nick knows he’s not the best at making decisions when it comes to Charlie, but one of the best decisions he’s made so far is not having Charlie attend Harry’s stupid party. It’ll reek of misogyny, as it always does. In the past, Harry has had a specific dress code for the girls he invites. Essentially, if the outfit doesn’t look like something they’d wear at the gentlemen’s club, they’re not allowed entry. Most girls don’t seem to mind it —wanting to dress that way regardless of Harry’s stupid rules. But if Harry’s own words are anything to go by, this year it might be even worse than the previous ones.

Nick breathes out, preparing himself for the words he can’t keep holding back from saying. He turns, sees Harry sitting on the bench across from him showing something on his phones to some of their teammates.

Harry turns when he feels Nick staring, and his smile grows in a way that makes Nick feel unnerved, “want to see pictures of the outfits they’ll be wearing?”

No, Nick does not.

“Sure,” he says anyway, “but listen, um.”

He nervously looks around the room before continuing. He sees his friends on the other side of the changing room looking back at him. They look a tad bit worried, and Nick can’t blame them. But he also can’t back away from this. He knows he’s let Charlie down in so many ways, but he refuses to let him down by not attending Tara’s party.

Nick clears his throat, “I’m going to go, obviously. I’m super excited about it,” Nick lies, trying his best to sound like it’s the truth, “but I’ve got to leave early.”

The groans heard around the room are collective and almost in sync. It causes his anxiety to come at him in full force. His heart feels it first, his mind immediately after.

“What do you mean, mate?” Harry asks, the smile dropping from his face and his hands out, “why?”

“I, um…,” Nick tries, but as he feels all eyes in the room on him, he feels stalled. He clears his throat once more, like that’ll bury all panic he can feel brewing inside him, “I’m going to Tara Jones’ party as well. With Cristian.”

Nick mentions Cristian’s name because he thinks it might help his case that he’s not the only teammate leaving the party early to go to another. But the logical side of his brain tells him that Cristian has a valid excuse because of his girlfriend. His girlfriend that he’s been with for a lot longer than he thinks anyone anticipated he would. And so it’s different. It’s different because to everyone on the outside, Nick doesn’t have a girlfriend. Definitely not one that would attend Tara’s party.

“What? Why’re you going to that gay party?” Harry asks, putting on an expression like he’s not only affronted but disgusted by the idea, “I mean, Cristian I understand he has no choice, but you mate? Who do you even know there?”

Nick can feel his anxiety boiling over to irritation and anger. Harry’s always been a homophobic prick, and it’s never been easy to stomach. But lately, it’s like Nick’s grown allergic to it. Anytime he tries to stomach it, it comes right back up like bile.

“Well for one, it’s not a gay party,” Nick tries to defend, but before he can continue, Harry is speaking again.

“It’s literally at the gay society house,” Harry ignorantly points out.

Nick doesn’t bother correcting him.

“Because it’s one of the biggest houses on campus but anyway, I know Cristian obviously. And Daisy,” And Charlie, he wants to say. And Charlie, he begs himself to shove the words out of his mouth. And Charlie, he needs to say, so he doesn’t feel those sharp teeth dig into him again, taking another chunk off. “And Charlie,” he says. It’s quick, but it comes out.

Harry wrinkles his nose, “Who’s Charlie?”

Harry is the biggest idiot that’s ever existed. Nick has known that since they met. But it has never crawled under his skin the way it does now. The way it does whenever it’s directed at Charlie. And right now, it’s being aimed right at him. Harry’s attribution to Charlie’s insignificance is insulting, especially when he’s met him twice by now, and Nick can’t hide the way that makes him feel.

“You’ve literally met him twice now. Once, at your party. The other night on the pitch.”

Nick’s tone is clipped, but he stops himself from saying much more to try and avoid the conversation becoming an argument. One that he doesn’t feel will be avoidable if Harry gives him another careless response at Charlie’s expense.

Nick can tell Harry is combing through his memories, letting the rusty wheels of the only functioning parts of his brain spin as he tries to come to a definitive conclusion as to who on Earth Nick can be talking about. The longer it takes him, the angrier Nick becomes.

“Oh!” Harry finally remembers, and for a brief moment Nick thinks that perhaps their argument might be avoided after all. Until Harry says what he says next.

“That little gay nerd? Why’re you even hanging around with him, mate?”

For the sake of not letting the situation escalate, Nick should handle Harry with as much grace as he can possibly muster. The problem is, he can’t muster any. Not when Harry’s just spoken so ill about the one person who Nick cannot allow anyone to speak of so poorly.

“Watch your fucking mouth, Harry,” Nick warns him, and he takes a threatening step forward.

The moment both of those things happen, he can feel the room go still with tension. Sharp tension that will cut right through either of them.

Harry, being the prick he is, doesn’t back down without a fight. He gets to his feet and tilts his chin defensively towards Nick.

“Watch your fucking tone, mate,” Harry warns right back.

Nick thinks he can shove it up his ass.

“You’re the one being extremely fucking disrespectful to someone you don’t even know.”

“Alright, lads, maybe we should –” Otis tries, but is cut off by Harry speaking right over him. Like he never even spoke to begin with.

“I’m just trying to look out for you, mate!” Harry says, a sarcastic laugh attached to the words Nick knows he doesn’t mean.

“Oh, really? How so?” Nick squints his eyes at Harry, challenging him. Waiting for him to make up some bullshit excuse so Nick can just rip it to shreds.

“Well, mate. I mean we could all forget about your little slip up last term or whatever – we all make stupid decisions when we’re drunk, right?” he looks around the room as he says it, a stupid smile on his face that Nick wants to punch right off. 

But his fists stay balled up to his side as he feels that familiar feeling that comes over him whenever someone alludes to his sexuality in any which way. He stays there, without moving, letting Harry continue.

“But if you keep hanging around this fag, who by the way is actually very annoying, no one on campus is going to believe that you’re not gay, mate! See, I’m looking out for you .”

And then he laughs. He laughs like it’s all some big, cosmic joke. Like everything he went through with Thomas was the punch line, and whatever he has with Charlie is the butt of it. He laughs like all of Nick’s struggles, with Thomas, with Charlie, with himself, is the best joke he could’ve ever told. And that, along with the fact that he’s just called Charlie a horrible slur, is the straw that breaks the camel’s back.

“I told you to watch your fucking mouth!” Nick yells, the sound erupting from him. It doesn’t even sound like his own voice. And what he does next doesn’t even feel like it’s his own body making the movements. He feels like he’s having an out of body experience. Watching himself react, but completely at a loss of control for his actions.

He feels himself grab Harry by the shirt and drag him back until he has him pinned up against the lockers.

“You want to kiss me, mate?” he hears Harry say, through the muffling of his ears.

And he feels himself lift his fist, ready to kiss Harry with it. And then he feels a hand on his shoulders, and people tugging at his uniform. Separating him from Harry. He doesn’t go easily, but eventually relents when he hears Coach Singh’s voice yelling through everyone else’s voices.

“That is enough! ” she yells, stepping right in between Nick and Harry. She puts both her hands out making sure the space between them grows.

Nick feels himself come back into his body, gaining control of himself once more as the gravity of his actions weigh him down to the ground. Nick’s never been a violent person, and he’s always prided himself on not allowing anyone to get him to violence. But he felt helpless, unlike himself, absorbing Harry’s words and doing nothing about it, just letting him get away with once again being vile and ugly.

“You boys are a team and this is not how teams behave with one another!” she yells again.

Nick knows that there is some truth to her words, but there is also some insincerity. Harry’s never been a part of Nick’s team. He’s just pretended to be. The façade is coming down, or maybe Nick is just finally allowing himself to see through it.

“Coach, it was Nick who—” Harry tries to defend himself, but Coach Singh shuts him right up.

“Harry, I don’t want to hear it from you! You are no angel,” she says right to him. Harry seems displeased but has enough respect for her to stay quiet.

“Everyone outside, on the field, now. Even if you don’t want to act like a team, you’re still going to train like one. Ten laps around the pitch.”

The groans heard around the room are revolting and loud, but short-lived, being cut off by Coach Singh almost immediately once they start.

“I said now! ”

She doesn’t need to say it a third time. Everyone starts shuffling out of the room, though tensions are still running high. Nick and Harry stare each other down as Nick walks out to do as they were all just told, but Nick drops his gaze first. He doesn’t want the situation to worsen. Not when his actions have caused his team to have to train harder.

He's about to leave when Coach Singh stops him.

“Nick, stay back,” she tells him.

As much as Nick doesn’t want to, he knows better than to not do as he’s told.

When Nick looks at her, he can barely hold her stare. She looks just as angry as she does disappointed in him, and Nick can hardly bear it. She hasn’t looked at him that way since he first joined the team. Thinking he’d never actually try and just get by off by his dad’s name.

“Take a seat, Nick,” she tells him.

Nick breathes in, holds for three, and then breathes out before taking a seat on the bench Harry was just sitting on.

He sits and folds his hands in his lap, placing them between his legs as if the pressure of that will somehow keep him from falling apart.

She stays looking at him, her arms crossed over her chest further signalling her disappointment in him. She lets out a long and hard breath.

“Nick, look, I know Harry can be a bit of a dick just about as much as I know that as his coach, I shouldn’t be saying that. But I also know you’ve been distracted.”

“But – I’ve been playing some of the best rugby I’ve ever played,” Nick tries to argue, though he doesn’t think she’s wrong.

“Yes, and I’m not sure how that’s been happening because you have been disconnected, Nick. From the team. From the game, even though you’ve been playing well I can just tell. Something about you is different.”

Nick thinks something about him has been changing for a long time. Ever since he met Thomas. Ever since he allowed himself to stop fighting who he is. Who he actually is. But it’s been kicked into overdrive by Charlie, not allowing him to keep telling himself lies. To keep pretending. To keep hiding.

When Nick doesn’t respond, Coach Singh sighs again.

“Listen Nick, I won’t pretend to know what you’re going through. Or even what you’ve been through. I try not to privy myself to campus gossip, but I’ve got ears and well – I just know that whatever you’ve been dealing with is likely not easy. But I appointed you captain of this team for a reason,” she unfolds her arms, and gives Nick a genuine look of understanding, “You are the heart of this team. You are the glue that holds all those lads out there together, despite all their differences. I know it’s easy to lose sight of that, but please try and remember it. Your team needs you this season. Not just to win, but to make sure they’re the best versions of themselves even when they leave this field come the end of year.”

Nick feels that pressure again. That overbearing weight of expectations landing back on his shoulders. Expectations and weight he thought he’d shredded, he’d thought he’d lost when he entangled himself in Charlie’s space. His lips. His bed sheets. But it was never going to be that simple, was it?

That’s clear to him now.

“I’ll try,” is all Nick can promise her. Because as much as he’s tried to ignore his responsibilities, he knows now that was a futile thought.

“Good,” she nods at him.

It’s quiet for a moment as Nick hangs his head, looking down at his lap as if the answers will be written there.

“Alright, give yourself five minutes and then join your team on the pitch. You still owe me ten laps,” she tells him, but when Nick looks up at her, she has a friendly smile on her face.

He nods at her again, unable to form the appropriate response in the form of words. She leaves him there, alone with his thoughts and his inability to make sense of them. And everything else he’s feeling.

He gives himself five minutes to reel himself back in. He pieces himself back together even if it’s only by temporary tape—just enough to get him back on the field and through practice. It allows him to join the team, but he barely gets through practice. He fumbles the ball more times than he can count. He and Harry have trouble playing as teammates, and the whole thing is disastrous. The only thing Nick is grateful for is that it ends.

But even when it does, he doesn’t feel much better.

When he crawls into his bed at night, Nick tries his best to not think about all the tormenting thoughts plaguing his mind. He swaps every bad thought out with the thought of one singular person – the very one who can always bring him out of any fog – Charlie Spring.

                 After debating it for the last twenty-four hours, Nick decides to still attend Harry’s party when it rolls around Saturday night. He thinks that despite their little altercation in the changing room, he owes it to most of his teammates and Coach Singh to show his face. So, he manages to put together a costume last minute, which also happens to be the most generic costume for a borderline ginger. But it’s easy to throw on a pair of khaki pants, a black long sleeve shirt, some matching black gloves and call yourself Kim Possible.

         Cristian, Sai, and Otis tease him about it, but Nick teases them right back. It isn’t like theiry’re costumes are that much better or original. Otis dresses like a ‘nerd’ – which must be the most played out, low effort costume in existence. Sai decided to dress as what he describes is supposed to be a ‘Greek God’ – which is really a blanket wrapped around his body and a cheap gold crown on his head. And Daisy and Cristian dress up as an angel and a devil respectively – which will probably have them matching with other people in both parties with how common the costume is. Though, out of all of them, Nick does think it’s the most fitting.

         His friends are all in high spirits as they drink in their flat before they call an Uber to take them to Harry’s party. Nick tries to match their energy, but it seems he’s incapable. By the time they’re in the Uber, heading over, he’s even half as excited  as his friends. He thinks it must have something to do with the fact that it’s truly the last place he wants to be spending his time.

Nick doesn’t know how it’ll be between him and Harry when he gets there. He hopes Harry just ignores him all night, still pissed with him for throwing him up against a locker. Harry’s never liked feeling inferior to Nick, and that was probably the most inferior Nick’s ever managed to make him feel. Harry ignoring him would be the best-case scenario for Nick. He doesn’t want to have to make light-hearted conversation or pretend things are okay. He also doesn’t want to have another altercation. Which would be the worst-case scenario – Harry purposefully making another stupid comment, hoping to get a rise out of Nick. He’d succeed, despite Nick not wanting to give him the satisfaction. Nick wouldn’t be able to help himself. Not when his insides feel like a mess he can’t unravel. But truly, Nick thinks they’ll land somewhere in the middle. Maybe Harry will address him in a group, with their other teammates around, and keep it light, and Nick will play along for the sake of not disturbing the tension that he’s sure is laying right on the surface of their strained relationship. But Harry won’t seek him out, and Nick will keep his distance, and the whole thing will feel weird but also not.

Regardless of how things go with Harry, or how great his party is, it’s still not the place Nick would like to be.

         The only place Nick wants to be is anywhere Charlie is.

He misses him desperately.

He misses the way Charlie is always able to make him feel like less of a mess than he is. He misses the way that whenever he’s around Charlie, all his worries seem to roll off him like they never really existed. He needs the serenity of Charlie’s presence which protects him from all the other things that make him feel pinned to a post he never asked to be on.

         And Charlie can do all that just by giving him that shy little smile he does whenever Nick says something that makes the color of his cheeks change. Or that giggle that escapes his mouth whenever Nick says anything remotely funny. He can do it just by looking at Nick with those deep blue eyes of his, helping him stay afloat in his own ocean that he feels like he’s constantly drowning in.

         Nick didn’t tell Charlie about what happened with Harry. Mostly because he didn’t want Charlie to know all the horrible things Harry said about him. The last thing Nick would want is for Charlie to think any of it could ever be true. But he knows that isn’t the only reason he didn’t tell him. The other reason is entirely more selfish than the first. The truth is, he also hasn’t told him because he doesn’t want to face what all of it meant. What all of it unraveled inside him. He doesn’t want to think about it. He just wants to go back to focusing on Charlie, and them, and having that be enough to drown out the outside noise.

         When they arrive at Harry’s house, it takes Nick all of about ten minutes of being there to start feeling like he’s borderline miserable. He tries to let the thought of Charlie carry him throughout the part of the night where Charlie isn’t by his side, but it doesn’t quite help the way he tries to get it to. The environment is just not one Nick cares for. The music is loud and blaring, making his eardrums ring with the volume to which it’s being played. The guests, which consist of a lot of his rugby teammates but also just a lot of other familiar and yet unfamiliar faces, are rowdy and overzealous. The décor is over-the-top, and the women Harry hired dressed as clowns passing around drinks are just the same.

         When the thought of Charlie fails to lighten his mood, he turns to alcohol. Nick doesn’t want to be a Debby Downer. He doesn’t want to make it known to his friends that he can’t be bothered to be there, partying and spending time with them. It’s not lost on Nick that six months ago, he would’ve been feeling and acting absolutely differently. He can’t help but draw his memory back to last October, where he was drunk out of his mind during a version of the exact same party he finds himself at tonight, genuinely having the time he wishes he was able to have now. He’d been goofing off with his teammates. He and Harry had even played a couple of rounds of beer pong together and it was as enjoyable as being around Harry Greene has ever been for Nick. Amaya had shown up in a black bodysuit with cat ears and Nick had fucked her in one of the spare bedrooms during the middle of the party. And then they’d gone their separate ways for the rest of the night and Nick didn’t lose a single wink of sleep over it.        

         Last year he didn’t have to force his smiles. He didn’t have to do his best to make conversation with his teammates. He didn’t have to pretend, pretend, pretend. It just feels like ever since six months ago, that’s all Nick has been doing.

         The highlight of his time at Harry’s house is when Coach Singh thanks him for showing up.

         “Proud of you for coming,” she tells him when she finds him up against one of the walls, drinking something out of a plastic cup that tastes like death but is also strong, “I know it must not be easy to be here right now, but it’s nice to show your team that you’re with them through thick and thin.”

         I’d rather not be anywhere near them, Nick thinks but doesn’t say out loud.

         Instead, he clinks his plastic cup with her beer, “cheers to being team captain.”

         Coach Singh gives him a funny face, but she doesn’t say anything else. She just gives him a squeeze on the shoulder before leaving him to stand by the wall alone. He doesn’t know if he would’ve preferred that, or if it makes him feel even worse than before.

         Cristian, Sai, Otis, and even Daisy try their best. They try pulling him to the dance floor. They try taking him to the liquor to do shots together. Nick can even tell that they go out of their way to make sure there’s a reasonable distance between him and Harry all night. Harry only comes up to them a few times and acknowledges Nick even less. It doesn’t turn out half as bad as it could’ve, and yet Nick still feels like he’s being dragged through concrete the entire time he’s there. When people look for him, he cuts the conversation as short as he possibly can without being overtly rude. When people call him for a game of beer pong, or flip cup, Nick excuses himself to the bathroom when he really doesn’t even need to piss.

         He keeps hiding.

         Once he’s felt like he’s on the edge of the building, he takes his phone out to text Charlie.

         ‘I’m so miserable without you’ Nick types out.

         He doesn’t press send.

         Instead, he erases the message, and goes for something far less pathetic.

Nick N.: Hey How’s the party? x

         He knows that staring at his phone for what feels like an infinite amount of seconds waiting for Charlie’s reply is almost just as pathetic as what he originally wanted to send. And yet, that’s exactly what he does.

         It takes longer than Nick wanted, but eventually, a text from Charlie comes in.

Charlie S.: hiii! it’s going really well xxx. tara really outdid herself!

         He feels kind of terrible for being envious of Charlie. Of course, he wants him to have a good time. He just wishes he was there with him already.

Nick N.: Haha, I’m glad to hear that. I’m sure it’s great! I can’t wait to get there and see you and your costume that you’ve been very hush hush about xxx

Charlie S.: lol it’s a little out of my comfort zone but i’m honestly glad that amy convinced me to go for it.

Charlie S.: i think you’ll like it too ;)

Nick feels his dick twitch in his pants and that invisible string that lives in his chest that ties him to Charlie pull him towards him. He is counting down the minutes until he can get to him.

Nick N.: Can’t wait to see it xxx

Nick types out ‘I miss you’ but erases it again. He’s never been one to hold back expressing how he feels to Charlie. Especially not all the positive emotions. But his emotions feel all out of whack. Like they’re his but he has no actual control over them.

Charlie S.: me either xxx. i’m sure u also look just as hot.

Charlie S.: when r u guys heading over?

Nick thinks that’s a good question. They’ve been at Harry’s for at least an hour and a half, and it’s a bit past eleven. Nick knows that’s pretty early to leave the party, but he also knows his batteries are depleting. He needs to recharge. He needs to be around the only person that can supply him with that. Even if he’s somewhat freaking out about being around him too.

He doesn’t reply to Charlie’s text right away and instead goes to find his friends. He finds Cristian and Daisy first somewhere in the crowd. They’re making out on the dance floor like no one else is able to witness it. He doesn’t necessarily want to interrupt their moment, but he also thinks they can be doing the very same thing at Tara’s party.

“Hey!” He yells over the music, causing both Cristian and Daisy to jump, “sorry to uh, interrupt, but when are we heading out?”

Cristian looks to Daisy, like he’s giving her the power to decide. Nick wonders when Cristian became such a doting boyfriend. He also wonders how he missed it.

Daisy looks between Nick and Cristian, “I’m having a good time here, but we can go whenever you guys are ready? Tara’s parties are not this extravagant but they’re super fun too!”

Cristian gives her a warm smile, tightening his grip on her waist, “whenever you want, babe!”

Daisy looks at him with heart-shaped eyes and Nick thinks their entire exchange is cute, but he would appreciate the back and forth to end and for them to give him a sure answer.

“So?” Nick questions again, interrupting them staring lovingly into each other’s eyes like Nick’s not standing right in front of them.

Both of them turn their heads towards him.

Daisy giggles, “you’re dying to leave, huh? Not having a good time?”

Nick shrugs his shoulders, “it’s fine just – a bit much.”

Daisy nods her head, “it’s a lot, but it is nice! Maybe fifteen more minutes or so, and we go?” Daisy turns to Cristian, “okay with you?”

“Yeah, sure!” Cristian agrees, then turns to Nick, “can you find the lads and ask if they want to go with? If not, just order the Uber and text me when it’s ready.”

Nick nods, though going through the crowd and finding Otis and Sai is the last thing he wants to do. He leaves Cristian and Daisy to stick their tongues down each other’s throats and looks around for Sai and Otis. He decides to give up after about five minutes and texts them instead. They both decline to leave, saying they’re outside in the pool area of the house, an area Nick wasn’t even aware existed, and would head to Tara’s later if it was still going on. Nick thumbs up their messages, orders the Uber, and texts Cristian to meet him outside.

Nick waits outside alone, wanting to get away from all the people and all the noise. Once he’s out on the curb waiting for the Uber, he texts Charlie back.

Nick N.: Just called the Uber. See you soon x.

Charlie hearts the message less than a minute after Nick sends it. And all Nick can hope for is that being around Charlie brings him afloat again, and releases some of the water he currently feels stagnating in his lungs.

         When Charlie was coerced by Amy to try on the costume she’d picked out for him at the Halloween shop he was sure he wasn’t going to make the purchase and just tried it on to get her to shut up. When he walked out of the dressing room and Darcy exaggeratedly whistled after him and Tara showered him with compliments with how good he looked, he still wasn’t convinced he should buy it.

         It’s no secret to Charlie that he has issues with his body image. It’s been going all for as long as he’s also struggled with OCD and anorexia. Everything about his mental health has improved from the time he became aware of what it was that plagued him with such loud, intrusive, and vile thoughts, but none of it has ever truly gone away. The voice still exists in the corners of his mind, reminding him that if he’s not careful, he could always just fall back into old patterns. One of the habits that has been the hardest to kick is how uncomfortable he feels in his own body. He still hides behind loosely fitted jumpers at times. He avoids wearing shorts when he can. And he definitely does not do skin-tight suits like the ones that Amy had picked out for him to try on.

         She’d seen it on a rack and shoved it into his arms.

         “You would look hot in this,” she’d said, pushing it into his chest, “and it is so you. Try it on.”

         Charlie had given her a questioning look before pulling the costume bag far away enough to get a look at what Amy was being so demanding and adamant about. When he saw what it was he just about lost it with laughter.

         “Are you mad?” he’d said, laughing with disbelief, “I can’t wear this. And what about it is exactly me? That’s almost offensive.”

         He’d tried to deflect, but of course Amy could see right through it.

         She didn’t laugh with him.

         “Shego is hot, confident, and strong. Not to mention loyal, and a bit of a bitch when she has to defend herself and the people she cares about,” Amy had explained, “sound familiar? Also, the eyes and hair.”

         “My eyes are not green,” Charlie had replied, not knowing how to respond to everything else Amy had said about him.

         “Eh, black hair, tight ass – what else matters?”

         “Amy!” Charlie had gawked, looking around to make sure no one heard her forwardness.

         “Just try it on,” she’d insisted.

         Charlie was about to decline it all again and for the last time, when something inside him compelled him to hold out the costume bag in front of him again and take a good look at it like he was actually considering it.

         On the cover of the bag was a woman dressed in a skintight black and green suit, hugging the shape of her body, emphasizing every single curve. Immediately, Charlie’s mind flooded with negative thoughts—the kind that told him that the only thing the costume would do for him was show off every single curve he didn’t have. But then he remembered to be kinder to himself: to be bolder; to step outside of his comfort zone. That was the whole point of coming to Leeds: to better himself; to become a version of him that he’d worked so hard in therapy to fully become—a more confident, self-loving, version. It was only then he’d realized he’d been so caught up on Nick as of late, he’d kind of lost sight of that.

         And then once the thought of had Nick entered his mind, it couldn’t find its exit. He had thought of the look on Nick’s face when he saw him in something so different than what he usually sees him in. Sure, Nick had seen him so many times without any clothes on, but Charlie felt well aware that there’s always something sexy about being dressed with minimal clothing. Giving way to the imagination but also leaving very room for it left. It would probably make him feel like it would if he were ever brave enough to wear lingerie. Then he had thought of how it would feel for Nick to unzip him, take the whole thing off while kissing down his shoulder. Praising him for how good he’d look in it. And Charlie had been convinced to at least try it on.

         “Fine,” Charlie had agreed, heading to the changing room before Amy could say another word and Charlie could change his mind completely.

         When he’d first seen it on his body in the reflection of the full-length mirror in the changing room, he’d immediately crossed his arms over his body to cover it. He felt just as he’d thought he would in the garment – exposed. But then he’d taken a breath and spoke nicely of himself. He picked out the things he liked rather than the things he didn’t. One of the things he’d liked was how lean and long it made him look. The other thing he liked was how well the colors contrasted with his natural eye color and his hair. He didn’t feel half-bad in it when he looked at himself through the lens that Geoff had taught him how to use.

         He’d snapped a photo of himself, ready to send to Nick to ask for his opinion. But for whatever reason (one that Charlie hadn’t been able to pinpoint at the time) he hadn’t pressed send. Instead, he’d come out of the dressing room to show Amy, who was standing right next to Tara and Darcy waiting for him.

         That was when none of them would shut up about how good he looked in it.

         “You have to get this, Charlie,” Tara had smiled, “it’s so you.”

         “Right?” Amy had said, “That’s exactly what I told him.”

         “Charlie boy there is not a single man that is into men at the party that will not want to fuck you or get fucked by you if you wear this,” Darcy had added.

         Charlie still needed some more time to decide. But another look at himself in the mirror, another reminder to take control of his life, had just prompted him to go for it.

         By the time they left the store, they left with the matching boots to go with the outfit – one green and one black – and face paint.

      Now, Charlie stands before his own full-length mirror examining himself in the same costume once again. The fabric clings to his body and the face paint that Amy’s helped him with looks the perfect hue of green to match it. His top lip is painted black to match the character’s original aesthetic and it makes his lips look plumper than usual. His curls are tamed and behaved, and Charlie feels more confident staring back at himself than he did the first time he did this exact same thing at the Halloween shop.

He can’t help but imagine Nick’s reaction when he sees him later in the night. Charlie’s eager to watch Nick struggle to keep his eyes from him, drinking in every inch of him with his eyes. He’s even more eager to feel Nick rip the fabric from his body when they’re able to escape the party and go back to one of their flats. With Charlie’s confidence boosted, he feels like the words will fall more easily from his mouth.

Nick, I want you to fuck me, he thinks about saying to him. Without hesitation. Without second-guessing.

He doesn’t want to have to hold back anymore. He wants to ask Nick for exactly what he wants from him. What he feels like he needs from him at this point. And if they both truly feel similarly about one another, Charlie thinks he’ll be okay with him asking even if Nick isn’t ready to take that next step yet. Though he hopes he is. He hopes more than anything that he is. But even if he isn’t, Charlie isn’t letting that possibility stop him anymore. He’s done letting all the reasons why it might not be a good idea to just go for it dictate his behavior. Because if Nick and Charlie are what Charlie feels in his heart that they are, then they’ll be able to get past whatever Charlie just asking the question brings their way.

When Charlie leaves his room, he finds Amy and Jess around the kitchen counter. Jess is dressed like Jessy from Toy Story – fire red, yarn braided wig and all. Amy is dressed like a vampire which really just consists of her wearing a velvet black mini dress and some faux fangs with little bits of fake blood dripping from both sides of her mouth. They both have seltzer cans in their hands and are engaged in what seems to be a light-hearted conversation. Neither of them is smiling from ear to ear, but neither of them is scowling at one another either. It’s a good representation of what their relationship feels like these days. It’s better than it’s been in months, even if it’s not quite what it once was. Charlie thinks they will probably never be like they were, but maybe that’s the whole point. What they used to be wasn’t serving them anymore, so they found a new way to be that could allow them space in each other’s lives.

Sometimes the only way to save a relationship is to change it.

When Charlie walks in, both of their attentions turn to him.

“Holy shit, Charlie,” Jess says.

“Doesn’t he look so hot?” Amy showers him with attention.

Charlie rolls his eyes but smiles, nonetheless. For once he doesn’t fight her on it.

 “Thanks for the help with the makeup,” he tells Amy.

“Anything to help you look good for your man,” Amy says, and it comes out so naturally it’s clear to Charlie that this is one of the rare instances that Amy’s not making a loaded comment on purpose;it’s just a slip of the tongue. Before Charlie can argue with her, she seems to catch and correct herself by saying, “you know, if you had one. This should help you get one though.”

“No doubt about that,” Jess agrees, and then Amy manages to switch the conversation over to the party. Helping Charlie without him asking her to.

They have a couple of seltzers at their flat, talking about the party and what Charlie should expect before they head out to walk over to the LGBTQ+ Society house to start their night.

Even with everything they’ve been talking about leading up to tonight, Charlie is still blown away from the minute he steps into the LGBTQ+ Society house. He’s in awe from the mere size of it. It’s bigger than the girls had described, or it seems that way at least. It’s two stories high, with chandeliers glistening above them, a spiraling staircase, and marble floors. It feels like something out of a storybook. It is completely transformed into something more like a haunted house though. Tara truly outdid herself.  The décor is exactly what they’d been shopping around for all week but looks even better in the way Tara and Darcy placed it along the house. There are cobwebs on the ceiling, blood stains on the walls, and signs of the holiday at every corner. Even the drink table is adorned with fake hands. The main drink of the night is served in a witch’s cauldron, with eyeballs floating around inside. The lighting is dimmed, with colorful strobe lights lighting up the room.

 It’s fun and spooky and the literal spirit of Halloween. Charlie’s attended other Halloween parties before, but given he never had a bigger group of friends than his core three back home, he’s never attended one like Tara’s party. Everyone is dressed to the nines. Maybe some costumes are somewhat low effort, but most people put in enough effort that no one could give them crap for not trying hard enough. It’s evident in even his own friend group. Tara is dressed as Princess Tiana – truly going out all out with a gown that matches almost perfectly to the one in the movie, Charlie’s almost convinced it is the one from the movie. If that were at all possible, he’d believe it. Darcy has a full-body frog suit on to match her. Sahar is dressed as a chef, wearing a white coat and a tall white chef hat to match and carrying around a laminated menu that consists of dishes that are not actual dishes but fun plays on words.

They all compliment each other’s outfits, but his friends especially feed into the rare confidence he’s feeling. They all tell him how great he looks. What a good choice in costume he’s made. He finds himself not wanting to discredit their words, and just complimenting them right back. It’s never been easy for Charlie to accept nice words about himself, but tonight, it feels effortless.

He hangs with Amy for the first part of the night – drinking and dancing and being shown around the house. It isn’t until Amaya walks into the room, and Charlie can feel her presence absorb everyone’s attention, including Amy’s, that he thinks he’ll need to find new company for the night. Charlie can’t blame Amy, or anyone else for that matter. Amaya looks absolutely radiant dressed as what he’s sure is meant to be space cowgirl, with holographic shorts that fit more like underwear, a pink bralette that lifts her cleavage just right, and a matching pink cowgirl hat. She has little toy guns tucked into her pink garters too, completing the look. Charlie feels the pang of jealousy he usually feels at the sight of her start in his stomach, wondering whether she’s coming from Harry’s party, having just seen Nick or Nick having just seen her. But then he extinguishes it by telling himself that he also looks good. And Nick will think he looks better than anyone tonight because of what they share. Something Charlie knows definitely Nick and Amaya didn’t.

“Well, this is ironic,” Charlie hears Amy whispers into her cup of whatever spiked punch Tara and Darcy have out.

It takes Charlie a moment to understand why she says that, but then he looks at Jess who happens to be standing around with them. She already looks bored with the situation, and Charlie can tell she’s going to make her exit before Amaya reaches them. The whole situation is still somewhat uncomfortable when they’re all in such close proximity.

“Careful,” he teases Amy, “you’re drooling.”

“Piss off,” Amy says, but the smile on her face tells him everything he needs to know.

When Amaya reaches them, Charlie can tell that she’s just as happy to see Amy with the way she barely notices Charlie standing right next to her.

Amaya looks Amy up and down, and not how she would’ve probably done it only a couple of months ago. Not with disdain or buried hatred. This time, she looks at her from head to toe like she’s trying to really take her in. And when she smiles, she has a look of admiration and satisfaction on her face.

“You look hot,” she tells Amy.

Amy plays it cool, but Charlie can see the blush creep onto her cheeks.

“So do you,” Amy returns the compliment, “even if it’s a little basic.”

“Oh, because you’re not dressed in the most basic vampire costume ever invented?”

Then Charlie watches them banter, and Amy pulls Amaya in by the waist. Shutting her up with a kiss. Two months ago, she would’ve shut her up with a snarky remark and maybe a slap in the face.

Time has a way of changing things.

Charlie takes their cute moment as his cue to give them a moment to themselves.

Not long after, Charlie finds Tara and Darcy and allows his unusually high sense of self to carry him through the first half of his night. He dances with his friends, he accepts compliments from strangers for his choice of costume, and he drinks to his heart’s delight. He misses Nick, of course. He always misses Nick when they’re not together. When they’re apart, it almost feels like he’s missing a limb. But he thoroughly enjoys the way his night is going without him. So much so that he’s not at all consumed by the thought of Nick. So, when he feels his phone buzz in the belt he has around his waist as he dances alone, he doesn’t immediately go to check for it.

It isn’t until the song he was dancing to finishes that he reaches for his phone and when he sees the message on the screen is from Nick, his heart lunges in his chest.

They haven’t talked much throughout the night, and Charlie imagines that’s likely because they’ve both been busy with their respective nights. He hasn’t minded it. Hasn’t thought too hard over it. But the moment he sees Nick’s name on his phone, he craves him as if he had been dying to hear from him all night. It comes full throttle, making Charlie the type of giddy only Nick can bring out of him.

Charlie walks away from the crowd and texts Nick back as he leans back against one of the far walls of the house. He can feel the silly smile on his face, and the music in the background is drowned out by Charlie reading Nick’s texts in his voice. He Imagines Nick saying the words they’re exchanging through a digital screen as if he were face to face with him. His imagination draws a parallel to his reality – they’re different, and Charlie wants to make them more similar.

 Charlie asks Nick when he thinks he’ll head over because suddenly, that’s all that he’s looking forward to for his night. Seeing Nick in his own costume. Having Nick see him in his. Getting to party and spend time together outside the four walls of their bedrooms. Though it hadn’t been in the forefront of Charlie’s mind when he got to Tara’s party, he can feel the thought picking up speed in his mind, leaving all other thoughts, all other preoccupations, in its dust.

Though Charlie is nervous of what it’ll be like having Nick at Tara’s party with him, he’s also excited. The last time they were in a similar environment, it was a whirlwind of emotions that led them to what they have today. He knows Nick won’t be very open in public. He won’t hang off Charlie like Charlie would like him to. But Charlie still has high hopes for their night. He expects them to flirt. To dance. Maybe sneak a kiss when no one is watching. And when the night ends, for them to reach another milestone in their relationship, specifically when the night ends and they don’t need to hold back from each other.

When Charlie reads the text from Nick telling him he’s on his way, he feels his heart stammer. He spends the next twenty-minutes trying not to have the only thought in his head be Nick Nelson. About their night ahead together. But it’s a losing battle. He knows he won’t be able to stop thinking about it until Nick is finally there with him. He still tries to distract himself the best he can. He fixes himself a drink by the witch’s table. His hands shake as he pours some of the punch into his cup, the anticipation of Nick’s arrival making his heart race and those butterflies that only Nick can bring to life inside him multiply.

Charlie has fancied people before. He knows what it feels like to have genuine, strong, feelings for someone. But never has just the mere thought of someone, of being around someone, elicited such an emotional reaction from Charlie like Nick does.

I think I’m falling. Hard.

The thought alone makes something in Charlie’s chest brew. It feels something like panic. Charlie hasn’t liked anyone this much since Ben. And that was a total disaster that left him shattered into more pieces than Charlie would like to admit. Some of those pieces Charlie never got back.

He knows Nick is different. This whole thing is different. But he can’t help but feel some level of fear.

He’s stuck on that thought, until he hears someone say Nick’s name.

It catches him so off guard, he whips his head around. Not at all being subtle about listening in on two stranger’s conversation.

“Wait – Nick Nelson is here?” the other person asks.

“Yup! He just walked in with Daisy and her boy,” the other girl replies, “I think

his name’s Cristian?”

“Oh yeah. He’s from the rugby team too, right?”

         Charlie doesn’t care to hear more of their conversation. All he knows is Nick is here.

Nick is here.

Nick is here.

Nick is here.

His heart beats at the thought alone.

Charlie is about to grab his phone and text Nick to see where exactly he is, but the moment he steps back out to where most people are gathered in the open space, his eyes find him. They find him like they’d find anything that belonged to Charlie.

         He’s looking around the room, presumably taking it in. The colorful lights from the strobes dance along his features, creating a kaleidoscope of colors on his skin and hair. Charlie feels his heart go into overdrive at the sight of him. It pulses in his chest. Every beat reminds him that Nick is the reason why it has the rhythm that it does. The butterflies in his stomach circulate, flapping their wings at record speed and making him feel both euphoric and slightly on edge.

         When he takes in what Nick is wearing, his mouth falls open. He almost thinks his eyes are playing tricks on him, the lights obscuring his vision and making it look like Nick is wearing something he certainly isn’t.

         But the longer Charlie stares at him, even from where he stands a few feet away, it is undeniable. He knows that Nick is wearing exactly what it looks like.

         He’s in a very, low effort, low budget Kim Possible costume. But it’s Kim Possible. It’s from the exact same cartoon that Charlie’s costume is from. And somehow, with absolutely no planning, they’ve ended up wearing matching outfits.

         If Charlie ever needed a sign from the universe that there is an invisible string tying them to one another, he doesn’t think it could have given him a more obvious one.

         The moment Charlie takes a step forward, Nick turns his head, and their eyes lock across the room—Even with the distance between them, Charlie can feel the chemistry strike them like lightning when they do. It feels reminiscent of the first time they ever did – when they were strangers and knew nothing about one another. All that existed between them then was an energy, an emotion, Charlie couldn’t quite place. He still doesn’t think he has it all figured out. But he knows that he’s far closer now than he was then.

         Without needing to say anything, they both make their way through the people around them to get to one another in complete sync.

         The moment they’re standing face to face, so close Charlie has to physically hold himself back from wrapping his arms around Nick’s neck and pulling him into a bone crushing hug. One that would let Nick know just how much he’s happy to have him there.

         “I was looking for you,” Nick says.

         “Me too,” Charlie says back.

         Nick smiles, in that infectious Nick Nelson kind of way and Charlie smiles right back.

         It feels like they’re lost in this moment, until Nick’s eyes slide off Charlie’s face and to the rest of him. Charlie watches as Nick’s eyes roam his body, taking in his costume and the way it fits him. Despite Charlie’s  slight inclination to shy away, he remains as he is. His keeps his hands on his sides, not obscuring Nick’s view of him. When Nick’s eyes return to Charlie’s, he can tell that he is a mixture of thoroughly impressed, amused, and shocked.

         He opens his mouth a little, the corners still lifted before he asks, “have we accidentally worn matching outfits?”

         Charlie giggles, “it sure looks that way.”

         “No fucking way,” Nick shakes his head, his smile still plastered on his face over the whole thing, “you’re the villain right?”

         “One of them,” Charlie replies, “though some people would argue she’s not like – that bad. Kind of an antihero. Her name is Shego.”