Chapter Text
“Charlie?”
“Yeah?”
It was a few weeks later, at Nick’s flat this time, to tackle the work piling up before the end of the term. They’d long abandoned the pretense of revising, though, instead lying on their backs listening to music from Charlie’s phone. Honestly, Charlie was only half awake, side warmed by Nick's presence even without them touching.
Nick was silent for long enough that Charlie’s eyes drifted closed again.
“When did you realize you were gay?”
That woke him up, but he tried not to react too strongly. He could feel Nick’s uncertainty almost as strongly as his body heat. “Oh. Well, I guess I’ve sort of always known,” he said softly, “even when I was really young. Fictional crushes, real ones… it’s always been boys.” Charlie turned his head to look at Nick, who was still staring at the ceiling. “I’m guessing you didn’t feel the same when you were younger.”
Nick smiled. “No. But my obsession with Callum O’Reiley in year eight makes a lot more sense.”
“It does help put your life into context, doesn’t it?”
“It really does,” Nick said with a laugh, then went quiet again. He looked happy, but there was still a bit of tension around his mouth that Charlie desperately wanted to smooth away.
Not that Charlie was thinking about Nick’s mouth.
He sat up quickly and stretched, spine popping, then leaned against Nick’s bed.
The thing was, okay? The thing was. Nick being…whatever he was was slowly driving Charlie insane. It had been okay when he’d been convinced Nick was straight, when everything was just platonic. But now, Charlie found himself overthinking their long shared looks when out with their friends, the crackling electricity he felt whenever they were alone, the hugs and cuddles and casual touches.
But even if Nick felt the same way—and that was a big if—Charlie didn’t want to push him into anything he wasn’t ready for. He’d just started coming out, for Christ’s sake, he probably wasn’t even thinking about dating a boy yet.
Nick looked up at him, upside down from the floor, pulling him from his descent into madness. “I’ve been doing a lot of research about bisexuality the past couple weeks, and I just feel like… it clicks, you know?”
“I’m happy for you.” Charlie pulled his knees up, wrapping his arms around them. “How did you realize?”
“I mean, Imogen, kind of.” Nick pulled himself up to mirror Charlie, leaning against the bed and looping his arms around his knees. Charlie tried not to read too much into the scant space between them. “I mean, I think I’ve always noticed boys, but it was easier to ignore until she asked me out.” He snorted. “I hope our friendship recovers enough for me to tell her that, because it’s objectively hilarious. ‘Sorry I used you as an internal beard, wanna watch The Sandman ?’”
Charlie smiled, but asked seriously, “Why do you think you felt you had to?”
Red rose in Nick’s cheeks, and his eyes flicked to Charlie’s, then away. “I don’t know. I think I’ve been noticing guys more lately, and I just panicked.”
“Anyone in particular?” Charlie asked, amazed by his own daring.
If possible, Nick blushed even more. “Yeah, erm, one guy. When we met, I wanted to be more than just his friend, but this was ages before I could really admit it to myself. By the time I realized I had a crush on him, he was already going out with someone else.”
Charlie’s heart was in his throat. “Oh.”
“And then I met Imogen when she joined rugby, and it was just easier to have a crush on her instead, because it was what’s expected, you know? Everyone thought we’d be good together, and it meant I didn’t have to confront my sexuality or anything. And it’s not like it was hard to think I liked her like that. And it stopped me from thinking about...” Nick let out an uneven breath.
Charlie didn’t trust himself to move, let alone speak.
“Even him breaking up with his boyfriend wasn’t enough to make me realize I didn’t like her like that, though I probably should have guessed when I wanted to punch his stupid face in for the way he treated—” Nick cleared his throat. “But I guess her asking me out did.”
Charlie wished he had his drumsticks, a pencil, some way to release the energy building in his hands. He couldn’t look Nick in the eye. He didn’t know what possessed him to ask, “Do you still like him?”
Charlie felt Nick stare at him for a long moment before looking away. “Yeah.” In his periphery, Charlie saw him start to fidget. “But he’s like, my best friend, and I don’t want to mess anything up—”
“You wouldn’t mess anything up.” It was barely loud enough for Charlie to hear himself, but Nick’s head snapped back around.
“I—erm.” Nick ran a hand through his hair, the gesture so familiar that Charlie could identify it even from the corner of his eye. “What now?”
Aiming for casual and probably failing miserably, Charlie dropped his right hand to rest on the floor between them. Then, before he could overthink it, he leaned over and kissed him.
And without hesitation, Nick kissed him back.
He put one hand on the floor and threaded his fingers with Charlie’s, and with his other he cradled Charlie’s neck and eased his fingers into Charlie’s hair. It was all Charlie could do to grip Nick’s arm, hard enough to bruise.
After a few seconds, or minutes, or what might have even been several sepia toned days for all Charlie could tell, Nick pulled back infinitesimally.
“You okay?” Charlie asked, voice breathier than he was used to.
“Yeah.” Nick leaned their foreheads together. “You?”
“I’m brilliant.”
Grinning, he said, “Good,” before kissing Charlie again.
Eventually, Charlie realized Nick was grinning too much to really be kissing him anymore. Which was fine, because Charlie was, too.
“Hi,” Nick mumbled without pulling too far away.
It didn’t seem possible, but Charlie grinned even more broadly. “Hi.” And then, because Charlie was an idiot who couldn’t keep ahold of his mouth at the best of times, blurted, “Did you really like me before I even started going out with Ben?”
Nick pulled back, and for a second Charlie’s heart dropped before he realized Nick was laughing.
“Yeah, I did. I don’t know how I didn’t realize. I was so jealous, but I thought I was just mad because you deserved so much better.” Elbowing Charlie, he continued, “I don’t know how
you
didn’t realize. I was pretty obsessed with you.” He looked down at their still clasped hands. “Sorry I didn’t say anything.”
Charlie squeezed his fingers. “Now who’s saying sorry too much?”
That made Nick look back up at him with an “Oi!” but there was no heat in it.
“I could have said something too, instead of just assuming you were straight.”
“Stupid heteronormativity.”
“Big word, rugby lad.”
“Learned it from you, you nerd.” Nick punctuated the insult by stamping another kiss on Charlie’s mouth.
Charlie couldn’t believe how easy it was to slip into their old patterns, their friendly banter ( flirting , his mind supplied) not missing a beat.
When they separated again, Charlie had forgotten any comeback he might have had, as well as possibly his own second name. Nick wasn’t helping matters by dragging his thumb across Charlie’s cheekbone. “Why didn’t you say anything when I told you I liked boys?”
“Really? You’d literally just come out, I wasn’t going to badger you with the massive crush I have on you—”
Nick’s finger stilled on his face. “You have a crush on me?” he asked, eyes wide.
“Y-yes?” Charlie stuttered. “Was that not obvious?”
Dropping his face to his shoulder, he mumbled, “I’m stupid.”
“You’re really not.”
Looking up, Nick squeezed their still-interlocked fingers. “Well, for the record, I have a crush on you, too.”
“I know,” Charlie said just before their lips met again, because he did. But it was nice to hear it all the same.