Chapter Text
If I could change my story I’d start it over here and now
I’d listen to my heart and stay right on track
I’d take the make believe instead of my reality
I’d slip between the lines and never look back
After that night, Charlie took the book everywhere with him. If people thought he was weird before, well they only thought it more now. He couldn’t help it. Life with Nick was so much better than the real world. He didn’t care about the kids at school. Most of them had made his life a living hell ever since he transferred anyway. So what if he was talking to a book. At least someone cared enough to listen.
But things got bad one day in chemistry class when the teacher stepped out momentarily and Harry Greene and his douchebag entourage of rugby lads took the opportunity to entertain themselves by bullying Charlie. Harry grabbed the book off the table and started playing “keep away” throwing it across the room to one of his mates. Charlie was chasing them around trying to rescue the book, holding back tears because he was not going to cry here in front of everyone! When he finally got his hands on the book again and tried to rip it out of Harry’s hands, Harry pulled back causing the book to smack him in the face.
Of course, this was the moment the teacher returned. Since all she saw was Harry getting hit in the face with Charlie’s book, and no one would come to Charlie’s aid, he was the one sent to the headmaster’s office. This also wasn’t Charlie’s first offense for violence at school. Both times were accidents and complete misunderstandings, but none of the adults would even listen to his side. It wasn’t Charlie’s fault he was just so bad at sports that during their cricket module in PE class his first week of school the bat slipped out of his hands, knocked over Harry Greene, causing him to sprain his ankle, taking the “rugby king” out of commission for the opening match of the year.
The headmaster mandated him to meet with the school therapist. “We don’t tolerate violence in this school, Charles,” he had said. And every time Charlie opened his mouth to try and defend himself, to tell him it was Harry that was violent, not him, the headmaster shut him down telling him he was “grown enough to take ownership of his own actions.”
It was no different with the school therapist either. He was suspended for a week. Or well, the therapist called it a “mental health vacation” but really, it was a suspension. No one even cared enough to listen to his side of the story.
That evening, after his mom yelled at him for getting suspended, he climbed out onto the roof with his book to talk to Nick. Nick would listen. Nick cared. If only Charlie could rewrite his life where everyone believed him, and no one thought he was insane, and he and Nick could have a happily ever after. Because if he was writing this story, then of course the handsome prince was queer and liked him back, in a romantic sense. The world needed more queer fairytales after all!
But instead of sitting atop his roof, opening up the book to talk to Prince Nicholas like Charlie had every evening for the past month, he suddenly found himself laying on the granite floors of a castle staring up at Prince Nicholas in the flesh.
“It worked!” Nick exclaimed, offering his hand to help Charlie stand up.
Maybe the school shrink was right. Maybe Charlie really was crazy. Because he was pretty sure he was not asleep and dreaming. He could feel Nick’s hand in his. It all felt too real.
“What? How? Is this real?” Charlie asked.
“You told me to write my own story, so I did. And in my story, you are here with me.”
“But how? I still don’t understand how I’m here, inside the book.”
“Ajayi has this magic canvas. He usually uses it to paint butterflies. He’s obsessed with butterflies, but they don’t exist in our world because the author didn’t think to include them. But when he paints them on his canvas, they appear. So I asked him to paint you. I didn’t know if it would work. But I’m so happy it did."
Charlie was pretty sure he was crying. He couldn’t help it. That was the sweetest thing anyone had ever said to him.
“I’m sorry,” Nick apologized. “I didn’t mean to make you cry. It's not for forever. Once the book is opened again, it'll reset and you'll go back to your world and I'll remain here. But I just had to try. Even if I just get you for a short while, it’s better than not having you at all.”
“Nick!,” Charlie yelled. It was the third time he'd said Nick's name to try and get his attention while he was rambling. He'd also taken a few steps closer so they were standing only inches apart right now. “These are happy tears. Of course I want to be here with you.” There was no where else Charlie would rather be.
“Oh. Okay. Good." Nick's eyes flitted down to Charlie's lips, then back up to his eyes. Charlie felt his breath hitch. "In that case, can I kiss you?”
Charlie’s eyes widened. Never in a million years did he think the handsome-ist prince he’d ever seen would want to kiss him .
“You really want to?”
“I really want to.”
“But what about the princess?”
“What about her? I told you that’s not my story. That’s the story the author chose for me. In my story it’s you and me.”
Charlie was crying again. Fairytales weren’t real. This wasn’t even really real. Sure he was standing here in a castle with Prince Nicholas. But it wasn’t going to last. Someone was going to open that book soon and rip him back to his own reality. A reality where no one would believe him if he even tried to tell them about this.
He looked up into Nick’s eyes though, and none of that mattered. He nodded his head, giving Nick permission to kiss him, and when their lips met, everything else ceased to exist.
When the kiss broke, Charlie laughed. “That was my first real kiss,” he said.
“Mine too,” Nick replied, and suddenly they were both laughing.
“Why are we like this?” Charlie asked, and then went back in for another kiss. When the kiss broke again, Nick said, “So, you owe me a dance.”
“No, no, no. I told you I don’t dance.”
“But you promised.” Nick made a pouty face, and damn if Charlie wasn’t weak.
“Fine, but I apologize in advance if I step on your toes or something.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve got you.” And Nick took Charlie in his arms. There wasn’t even any music playing, but Nick was elegantly moving Charlie across the floor. Maybe dancing wasn’t so bad after all.
They continued to dance, and kiss, and even had a picnic out on the grounds watching the sunset. Their time was limited and they just wanted to make the most of the time they had together. Eventually, Charlie fell asleep cuddled up in Nick’s arms. Maybe no one would open the book up again and they could just live here forever in their happily ever after.