Chapter Text
As Charlie hustles into his office building, he tries not to jostle any of the drinks in his hold.
He already has his excuse scripted but he runs through it in his head again. He plans on blaming the coffee; the message with the drink order specifically asked for drinks from the cafe around the corner from his house, and they take their sweet time making every order. Some of the blame also lies at the time when he received the message — a hair away from the time when Charlie leaves his flat.
Charlie impatiently presses the lift's call button, taking a few steps back to scan the floor indicators on each lift across the bay. He checks his watch once more out of habit. He hates standing still; it gives him time to think, and if Charlie thinks for too long, he circles back to Nick Nelson.
Case and point: Charlie finds himself annoyed that this coffee run has made him late. The coffee and one bubble tea (if he's being accurate) are for actors. Nick Nelson is an actor. Charlie misses Nick Nelson. It's a vicious cycle that repeats on end.
A lift arrives at long last, and Charlie quickly boards it and holds down the button for his floor. When the lift doors open again, he's greeted by the sight of Tao chomping on his thumb nail, gaze fixated on a random spot on the carpet. That does not bode well.
Charlie reaches out to touch Tao's shoulder, which jolts Tao from his soulless statue state. "What's the matter?"
It takes a moment for Tao to process the question, and all the tension purges from his face and posture. A bright smile blooms on his face, and he claps a hand on Charlie's shoulder. "Oh, you're finally here."
"Where am I delivering these drinks?" Charlie asks, scrunching his nose.
"They're in Conference Room 2," Tao says, gesturing down the hallway. "Charlie, guess who they are."
"I don't..." Charlie shakes his head. He has only ever paid attention to one celebrity.
"Elle Argent!" Tao almost shrieks, covering his face in delight. He has heard that name from Tao many times before.
Charlie smiles softly and offers, "Do you want to deliver the coffee, then? Get some one on one time with your idol?"
Tao presses a hand against his heart. "Can-can I?"
He holds the coffee out to Tao and offers a genuine smile. "If it makes you happy."
Tao throws his arms around Charlie's neck in a loose hug before gently taking the drink caddy out of his hands. Tao practically skips down the hallway to the second conference room, and Charlie shakes his head with a fond smile.
Tao's excitement over being in the same building as Elle Argent kept him so preoccupied that he failed to tell Charlie the other people in meeting with their supervisor; Charlie wishes it could be that easy for him.
He makes his way to his office and settles down into his workspace. He cracks his knuckles and stretches his arms before he continues editing the footage he was working on the day before. He slides on a pair of headphones, as he begins splicing footage from multiple camera angles. The show which he is editing for is set to air in two weeks or so; that must be why the principal editor is meeting with top stars. A new project is always on the horizon, always.
Just as Charlie starts to get into the zone, he hears a knock. He stops the current footage on his computer screen and turns around in his chair.
Nick Nelson.
Charlie blinks. He doesn't believe it.
Nick looks the same, but that might just be because Charlie sees his image everywhere. He looks more mature, maybe, cheekbones more prominent because his baby fat has been left in the past. His hair has been brushed out of his face. Nick's hair isn't long enough for Charlie to truly call it styled.
Nick seems frozen as well, lips parted in subdued surprise. It takes him a moment to regain what little composure that he has lost. His lips quirk into a charming smile. "Tao, uh, Mr. Tao Xu, um... there's a number on the cup from...someone, and I don't think that it was intended to land in my hands."
Charlie almost doesn't hear what Nick says; the words are just a vessel for the sound of Nick's voice. It's just as smooth, light, and rich as he remembers. Like the past is echoing his ears. It's different than it comes off as in videos; the real live Nick has an extra layer of depth in his voice.
Charlie's silence — awe, to be exact — is interpreted differently by Nick. He elaborates, "Did you want the number?" Nick moves his hand and brings the cup into view, shaking it as if to prove that the cup exists.
"There's still bubble tea in there," Charlie points out. He wants to kick himself. He hasn't seen Nick in… how long? And the first words that fall out of his mouth are those?
Nick politely grimaces. "I was thinking that you would just write it on a sticky note."
Charlie swallows thickly. "I don't want the number."
The actor smiles and nods. "All right. Sorry to bother you."
Like a puff of smoke, Nick appears and vanishes from Charlie's life once more. The colours, which briefly returned to full brightness, have dimmed again.
To be honest, Charlie doubts that the Nick Nelson he just saw is even real. How could he be?
He sits numbly in his seat. Is that all Nick had to say to him? Charlie has so much — so much — that he wants and needs to tell Nick. He tries to come up with a reason as to why Nick didn't even acknowledge that they knew each other. Perhaps Nick didn't recognize him, but Charlie knows that's a lie.
And if it were true, that might break Charlie's heart even more.
He continues to work, putting off figuring out the encounter for when he has time.
Charlie stares at the ceiling of his bedroom.
The hands of the clock on the wall tick away with small, soft clicks.
A small piece of his soul wonders if he'll ever see Nick again. It's the part of him that bitterly holds onto his regrets and constantly pushes them to the surface as if to remind Charlie that he wastes chances every time the heavens give him one.
Nick will perpetually be the one who got away.
Or is Charlie the one who constantly fails to chase him?
Charlie sits up, rubbing his face. He won't get any sleep, not with Nick floating in and out of his mind.
Charlie finds himself watching the footage that he has edited years back. His desktop lists it as Nick Nelson Saw Me, a name that seems to encapsulate the absurdity of Charlie's first love.
He has spent hours wondering about Nick. He doesn't mean the Nick that sits for interviews and films cute behind the scenes videos for the public.
How much has Nick changed since they parted ways? How does Nick feel when he thinks about Charlie?
His eyes lose focus on the video as he thinks about its subject. He mouths every word that reaches his ears because he has watched and fiddled with the file more times than he could count that every sound, every image have already been etched into his memory.
He adds in the recent photo that he took on his phone in the folder.
Maybe he and Nick are meant to be like ships in the night. Or perhaps, they're two lines that intersect once and head in different directions for the rest of their existence.
No, what they are is closer to the Titanic and the iceberg; they meet once and one drowns while the other continues on without pause.
Charlie is the Titanic, and the story doesn't go very well for him.
Charlie hugs his legs to his chest, resting his cheek on his knees, trying to keep his head above water.
“I'm something that you like and find important? That's some information to know.”
There's a knock on the door, and Tao pokes his head in.
"I'm going home. You're going to be the last person in the office if you stay."
"I'm in a zone," Charlie dismisses Tao's concerns with a wave of his free hand.
"The lights shut off at midnight. Try not to be here when that happens."
He hums, continuing to ignore Tao.
"Goodnight. Get some sleep on the break room couch if you feel tired."
"Night!" He shouts over his shoulder.
Even after a few hours later, Charlie still refuses to end his day. He gets lost in editing until someone sets a cup of coffee on his desk. He looks at it and turns his head to look at his very stubborn and overly concerned — borderline dramatic when it comes to Charlie's health — friend.
"Tao—" He stops when he sees Nick Nelson staring at him with his lips pressed into a tight line.
Charlie thinks he's hallucinating. It must be incredibly late that Charlie is now having a visual, auditory, and olfactory hallucination.
His thoughts escape through his mouth. "I must be going crazy."
Nick drags one of the spare chairs usually reserved for small creative meetings and pulls it up to sit next to Charlie. He presses the back of his hand against Charlie's forehead with a look of worry flickering across his face. He withdraws his hand and says, "You're a tad warm. I think you should take a nap."
"Why are you here?" Charlie asks, reaching out to poke Nick's cheek to confirm that he might be real (his brain is overtired so he gave into his impulsive thought). The skin of his cheek gives way to the pressure of Charlie's finger. Nick is a solid human being.
"Because I worry about you, and for the first time in a long time, I can do something about it."
Had Charlie been more awake, the statement would have evoked more of a reaction from him, but alas.
"Will you be here when I wake up?" Charlie asks, letting sleep ebb at his consciousness.
Nick nods with a soft smile. "Come."
He takes Charlie's hand and leads him to the break room. Charlie can't find it in him to resist being led. Nick feels real, but Charlie isn't entirely positive. Nick makes him lie down on the couch before he takes a seat, crossing his legs and positioning himself so he’s face to face with Charlie.
Charlie drifts into the safe harbour of sleep, hoping that when he awakens, he'll be able to tell if Nick is real or simply an illusion created by a brain that truly misses him.
When he wakes up, there is a headful of hair in his face. It smells like honey and milk.
Charlie blinks the sleep out of his eyes and pulls back to look at the face of the person whose hair is in his face. Nick rests his face on the back of his hand; it makes his cheek look puffier than it actually is.
"Nick?" He calls out, dry throat cracking through the only syllable he utters out.
Nick bolts up, eyes popping wide open. "I didn't fall asleep." His eyes water, prompting him to clumsily brush the stray tears away with the tips of his fingers.
"Nick Nelson," Charlie breathes. "You're real."
"Of course, I'm real. What time is it?" He looks around for a clock on the wall.
Charlie looks at his watch. "It's almost seven.” And he takes a leap. “Do you want to get breakfast?"
Nick looks at him and smiles. "Yeah, I'd like that."
That's how they end up at a restaurant a block over from Charlie's office, eating omelettes. Nick shoves spoon after spoon into his mouth without fully swallowing after each bite. Charlie notes that he even eats the same as before.
Across from him, Nick seems to notice that Charlie isn't cramming his face full of food. He finally takes a break from eating to chew what he has in his mouth and swallows. "What?"
"We haven't seen each other in years, and you're eating as if we do this on a regular basis."
Nick straightens out his back and dabs his mouth with a serviette. He shifts in discomfort. "Then how am I supposed to eat?"
"We're supposed to catch up like we're old friends, laugh over the fun times, take a moment to remember the sad times, down a shot for every memory recounted."
Charlie has a bitter taste in his mouth. He thinks he might be angry.
Their reunion has fallen short of his imagination; Nick is supposed to hug him or apologise for leaving without saying anything. Nick should tell him that he considered what they had before as love, like how Charlie does, and say that not a single day passed that Nick was not thinking of him.
Nick Nelson could at least say anything to acknowledge that he left Charlie in a black and white world after showing him every hue of every colour. But the most that Charlie has gotten out of him was a mild look of surprise, like he never thought to imagine their paths crossing again.
Charlie knows that he's angry.
A look of guilt flashes across Nick's face, and he looks down so that he can pick at his cuticles. He quietly says, "Seven in the morning is too early for alcohol."
The newfound anger seeps into Charlie's voice as he feels his eyes starting to burn and his throat starting to close up. "You can just say it."
Nick raises an eyebrow.
"We were never friends, barely even acquaintances. There are no times — good or bad — to lament over." Charlie takes out his purse and slaps down enough bills to cover the bill. Nick flinches and Charlie stands up. "Goodbye, Nick Nelson."
By the time that Charlie is back to the office, his anger has waned into despair.
He doesn't think Nick ever loved him at all. His first assertion will always be right: Nick Nelson will never be his in any way, shape, or form.
Charlie sits in the middle of his living room, pointing his camcorder at an empty couch.
(The funny thing is that he had to rummage through his closet for it when it used to be glued to his hand.)
He feels empty — emptier than the usual echo chamber that exists inside of his ribs. Something else cleared out, and Charlie hasn't quite figured what he has lost.
When he was younger, the thought of being angry with Nick was unimaginable. Now that time and space have divorced his idealised Nick from the real one, the foundation of his youth has cracks running through it.
This entire time, he has hoped that if he should ever meet Nick again, they would run off into the sunset with tightly held hands. Now that Nick is real again — pinchable and breathing — Charlie’s loneliness promises to stay forever.
It turns out that the one thing that he needed to be real was the reciprocation of his feelings, and it seems that, once again, Charlie is alone in his.
He feels a tear crawl down his cheek, dripping off his chin and onto his leg.
Before more tears fall, however, Charlie hears a knock on the door that forces himself onto his feet to answer it. It's probably Isaac wanting Charlie’s calm and quiet presence. He glances at his reflection in the mirror to make sure it isn't obvious that he was crying before he greets his visitor. He holds his camera steady as he opens the door, prepared to catch Isaac mid-knock.
It is not Isaac.
Of all the people in the universe, Nick Nelson stands there with a finger curled out of his fist. His eyes immediately gravitate to the familiar camera.
Nick smiles softly. "You still have that?"
Charlie remains stiff. His emotions enact a tug-of-war over how to react to Nick Nelson being at his front door. All that he can manage to say is, "How do you know where I live?"
Nick looks at his feet and mumbles. "Elle asked Tao because I asked her if she could. If you're wondering, I told Elle to tell him that I had something that I urgently needed to return to you. You don't need to be mad at Tao because he probably only agreed because Elle asked." He licks his lips and looks Charlie dead in the eyes. "May I come in please?"
Charlie pulls the door wide open. What does he have to lose by hearing whatever Nick has to say?
It takes a few minutes, but Charlie sets both of them up with cups of tea while Nick ends up playing with his camera while he waits. He ultimately slides it back when Charlie takes his seat.
"Thank you," he mumbles quietly.
Charlie picks his camcorder up and points it at Nick. It feels like a return to form, using his camera to record Nick.
"What do you want to tell me?" Charlie asks the moment that Nick's lips hit the rim of his teacup.
Nick chokes on his drink and coughs quietly before asking, "Pardon?"
"There must be something you need to tell me if you went through the hassle of getting my address from Tao," he elaborates. "So, I suggest you cut to the chase."
Nick pushes his tea away and chews his lower lip, seemingly trying to find a way to articulate his thoughts. He finally nods, a look of determination forming on his face. "The best and worst days of my life happened in the same week,” he starts. “In school, I was always fairly popular, so it was kind of like I had a bunch of casual friends. I didn't really have a best friend that was always over at my house and borrowing my stuff for an indefinite period of time. It was… lonely."
He licks his lips and takes another sip of tea. He looks at his cup and smiles softly. "And then I met you." His brow furrows and he tilts his head as a happy confusion flickers across his face. "I mean, you know, you were that kid that people didn't talk to because you made them uncomfortable. Then, one day, I saw you pointing your camera at me, and I wanted to know what you saw when you looked at me."
He blinks rapidly and frowns. His lips make several false starts as he tries to string words together. Charlie watches as he feels the part of him that has always been in love with Nick try to stoke the flames of hope in his empty chest.
Nick starts again. "That day, after the rain… I think it's my favourite moment that I've ever lived. You looked at me, and it was like I mattered." Nick sniffles and swallows again. "It felt like I could talk about my favourite kind of dirt and those would be the most important words that had ever been spoken. To this day, I don't think anyone has ever wanted to know me the way that you did."
Nick takes a deep, shaky breath. "And I never wanted to share anything with anyone so badly before. Then my dad moved me to France with him without so much as a moment's notice, and I didn't have time to tell you. Silly me; I thought I had time to tell you everything."
Charlie can feel his emotions boiling over; a tear a blink away from slipping out of the corner of his eye.
"Um," Nick clears his throat and closes his eyes, "I was scouted on the street just after my seventeenth birthday, and I thought that if I became famous then you would be alive, and you could find me. I actually had nightmares about it. The scariest thing you ever told me was that you wanted to be alive."
Nick pauses for a minute. He looks at Charlie's expression with something akin to worry. Charle can visibly see Nick’s fingers trembling a little as his eyes show how much he’s been keeping this to himself for so long. But he offers a smile and says, "And then I found you. You were sitting there, and I didn't know what to do. I mean, what do you do when the universe finally delivers on its end of the bargain?"
Charlie sets the camera down and covers his face. His heart is going to die from the whiplash that it's experiencing. If he understands what Nick is telling him, then he doesn't have to wonder anymore. Hope has a rightful place in his life for the first time in a long time. And he welcomes it, embraces it with as much longing as he has for Nick.
He takes a deep breath and sets his hand back on the table. He threads his fingers together and leans forward. "What are you trying to tell me?" He wants clarity, first and foremost.
Nick processes the question. He looks down at Charlie's hands then back up at his face before he whispers, "I was in love with you, and although I doubt it matters anymore, I'm fairly sure that I still am." Nick flicks his tongue across his lips to wet them again. "I just thought that I should tell you that you were wrong at breakfast the other day; I considered us to be something far stronger than 'barely acquaintances.'"
"May I ask you a question?" Charlie quietly murmurs.
Nick nods.
"What did you want to do when you first saw me that day?"
He thinks before replying to Charlie's question. "Cry? Kiss you? Hug you? Not necessarily in that order." His brow furrows and he grimaces. "I've been told that I'm a good actor. It's a blessing and a curse, really."
Charlie stands up and walks into his bedroom without saying anything; he even leaves his camera behind. He lies down on his bed and thinks.
He won't deny that part of him is absolutely shining. Something about knowing that Nick loves him has unleashed millions of butterflies back into their colourful, flower-filled world. The weight on his chest has been lifted, and the cracks in the clay of his soul have been smoothed over by Nick's delicate fingers.
He doesn't know what to do about it. Nick has a public image and reputation and thousands of fans who care about what he does with his life. Reality will always be there, putting a roadblock in the middle of Charlie's path to happiness.
Nick walks in and lies next to Charlie without needing an invitation, automatically knowing what Charlie wants of him. "I wanted to ask you a question before I leave."
"Okay,” Charlie replies without moving or tearing his eyes away from his ceiling.
"Did you love me?" Nick whispers with a small crack in his voice.
Charlie finally turns his head to look at Nick. "Then. Now. More than you know and more than I thought was possible. I don't think I've ever considered trying to love anyone but you."
Nick holds his gaze, his eyes starting to water again. "Do I have to leave?"
"It depends on where you see this going," Charlie whispers.
"To be completely honest, I have the strong desire to hold onto you and never let go ever again," Nick admits. "What should I do?"
Charlie closes his eyes, taking a calming breath. "If you stay, I'm not going to let you go. Choose whatever you can handle."
Nick presses himself against Charlie's side, grabbing his hand with a gentle squeeze. He rests his head against Charlie's shoulder and sighs contentedly, his breath coming out a little shaky. "What now?"
"I don't know."
Charlie dabs the corner of his eye. Blood gurgles in Nick's mouth— Well, the character that Nick is playing in the show that he is currently watching. He sniffles and hiccups out a quiet sob.
"You know, the fake blood is super sweet," Nick shares with a nudge at Charlie's ribs. "Corn syrup."
He turns to Nick and hits his chest.
"Ow," Nick whines with a pout.
"Are you serious? You just died for her," he chokes up. "I mean, you sacrificed your revenge for the daughter of the man who killed your parents because you loved her. Why would you bring that up right now? It could've waited until the credits."
"But I'm not in the rest of the episode. Well, aside from when they show my picture at the funeral..." Nick trails off.
Charlie exclaims, "Nick Nelson! I love you, but I'm not watching this show just because you're in it. Stop spoiling it."
"There are, like, two minutes left."
Charlie glares at Nick.
Nick sits back, crossing his arms with a frown. "Will you pay attention to me in two minutes then?"
"Will you please be quiet and let me finish watching?"
Nick lies on his side and puts his head on Charlie's lap. "I need attention."
"You're famous. Go outside if you want attention," Charlie says flippantly.
"I only want yours, though," he counters like a child, huffing.
Charlie bends over and presses a chaste kiss on Nick's lips. "Let that hold you over for two whole minutes."
"That buys you five seconds at most," Nick still goes like the mature grown man that he is.
Charlie grins with a soft snort. "You just want to kiss."
And Nick almost jumps. "Can we?"
"In two minutes."
Nick lets out a wail of despair. Charlie slaps his hand over Nick's mouth. "Shush, or I'll stop telling you that I love you."
"I love you!" Nick shouts, only to have the sound muffled by Charlie's hand.