Chapter Text
Charlie Spring loved routine.
There was a certain kind of peace to be found in repetition, in having a guide to follow throughout the day. While Charlie found it more difficult to ease into a routine during the summer, during which he was relieved from his academic responsibilities, he tried his best to establish a new schedule for himself.
Sure, he absolutely dreaded going to school more often than not, but at least it kept his mind busy.
Even though he didn’t have each day of the week perfectly outlined yet, there were certain recurring events that he could count on with certainty. On Tuesday mornings he would tidy his room and play Mario Kart with his little brother Oliver, and Thursday evenings were reserved for group film nights at his friend Tao’s house.
On Saturdays, Charlie went to a coffee shop in town to write in his journal and relax before heading off to his weekly sessions with his therapist, Geoff.
Not only did the Saturday mornings at the café do wonders to ease Charlie’s anxiety, but they presented him with an opportunity to gather his thoughts before therapy. He had been seeing Geoff since the beginning of March, and in the following months, Charlie had become quite good at preparing himself to get the most out of the hour he got to spend with his therapist weekly.
He would sip on his latte and jot down ideas of what he wanted to discuss with Geoff in his journal while wrapped in the warm embrace of the café’s atmosphere. How he was feeling that week, good things that happened, bad things that happened, obstacles that he faced and may have even overcome — all of it found home in his journal.
They didn’t always get to talk about everything he wrote down — they did only have an hour, after all — but that was why Geoff had recommended the journal; they could refer back to it during later sessions and work through feelings that may have slipped Charlie’s mind between the weeks.
Plus, Charlie had a tendency to become easily… overwhelmed during sessions. During their first few sessions pre-journal, it was as if the chair in Geoff’s office absorbed all of his logical thoughts the moment he sat down, and he would simultaneously forget everything that had happened to him over the last week and babble endlessly until he had gotten everything off his chest.
Geoff said that was common. Charlie had a hard time believing him, but the journal did help.
Just as he did every Saturday morning, Charlie rounded the street corner, Delilah’s café coming into view. He was met with the familiar chime of a bell above his head, announcing his arrival as he pushed open the glass door.
Instantly, he was met with the comforting aromas of coffee and freshly baked pastries mingling in the air. Upbeat indie music played at just the right volume, background noise mixing with the soft chatter of the café’s patrons.
“Charlie!” The barista, Otis, greeted him with a warm smile as he approached the counter.
He had become a regular at Delilah’s, and being a frequent customer had its perks; all of the staff knew him by name, and three of the boys in particular would converse with him while his drink was being prepared.
Otis typically worked the register, which had to be a strategic business decision because Charlie isn’t sure he’s ever met someone as effortlessly kind. Sai, a shorter boy with thin rectangular frames balanced atop the bridge of his nose, had begun making Charlie’s drink as soon as he entered the door, knowing his order by heart at this point. Then there was Christian, overly-caffeinated and energetic, who leaned over the counter to ask how his day was going. Christian’s mum owned the café, Charlie had learned, so the lanky boy was almost always there during the summer. Christian didn’t quite mind, though — he would never complain about unlimited coffee or baked goods.
“Iced lavender latte for Charlie!” Christian sang, swiping the drink from where Sai had placed it on the counter and offering it to Charlie with a flourish.
“Thank you.” Charlie said politely, chuckling as he exchanged his money for the drink before taking a sip.
“Enjoy!” Otis grinned, placing the money inside of his drawer. “Let us know if you need anything, mate.”
Charlie nodded before turning to find his usual seat inside the café. There was a small table near the windows that he had taken a liking to, rays from the sun outside seeping in through the glass and enveloping him in a blanket of soothing warmth.
He shrugged off his flannel, hanging it on the back of the chair before taking a seat. Reaching into his bag, Charlie pulled out his journal and a pen, getting his belongings situated on the small table.
Taking another long sip from his latte, he made a mental note to thank his friend Elle again for her suggestion. He had looked at her incredulously when she had first recommended he try the drink, because who in their right mind wanted their coffee to taste like earthy flowers, but he was glad that he gave it a chance.
In his journal, Charlie began to create a list of things he might want to discuss with Geoff on a clean page.
- Something good that happened this week was film night at Tao’s. Elle brought cookies that her mum baked, and I was able to eat one without running into any issues
- I did end up having an argument with my mum after film night though. We agreed I’d be home by eleven, but I was ten minutes late. Ten minutes! And she completely exploded on me, shouting about how I don’t respect her rules. Logically I know she’s just worried about me, and it’s my fault for not texting her, but she was so upset with me over something so small. I’m seventeen!
- My grandparents are coming to visit next week, which I’m feeling nervous about. I love them, but I always feel a lot of pressure when they’re around. They don’t care about my sexuality or anything, but they have high expectations. I don’t feel like I’m good enough
Charlie wrote a few more notes down in his journal, but when he could no longer think of anything he felt the urge to work through with Geoff, his gaze inevitably drifted away from the page and instead settled on the other patrons of Delilah’s.
The couples, specifically.
Something… counterproductive that he had grown into the habit of doing was people watching. It wasn’t his fault that so many couples frequented the café, and he couldn’t help but…observe.
His eyes trailed slightly to his right, where an older man and woman were tucked inside a corner booth engaged in conversation. The woman was speaking quite enthusiastically about something Charlie couldn’t quite make out, using her hands to accentuate the points she made. As she gestured, the sunlight caught the diamond on her ring finger, and it sparkled elegantly on her dainty, wrinkled hand.
The man, presumably her husband, listened intently with a grin playing on his lips. He looked at his wife as if she hung the stars in the sky, like she was the most beautiful creature in the universe. It was so personal, so intimate, that it almost made Charlie blush.
He wondered how and where they had first met. Were they school sweethearts? Did they meet through mutual acquaintances? Perhaps they had crossed paths by fate, by destiny, and had become inseparable. If they had any children, how old were they? Did they live in the same home they had all their lives, or did they move to Kent some years into their marriage?
The chime of the café’s doorbell drew Charlie’s attention away from the older couple, and instead his gaze shifted to two girls who had entered Delilah’s.
Hand in hand, the girls made their way toward the counter. They were greeted with a warm smile from Otis, and Charlie watched as the shorter of the pair rested her hand on the small of her partner’s back as she ordered their drinks.
Even though the shorter girl never spoke up to place her order, Christian handed out two drinks. Did that mean that her partner had her drink order memorized? The thought made him feel warm inside.
He was curious about just how long they had been going out, and who had made the first move. One would be quick to assume it was the taller girl with dark braids since she had ordered and paid for their drinks, mannerisms that could be viewed as outgoing and assertive. But Charlie wouldn’t have been surprised to learn that it was actually the shorter girl who confessed her feelings first; the way she had placed her hand on her partner’s back was intentional, an assuring touch that said mine.
People watching was innocent enough, right?
Not for Charlie Spring.
Don’t get him wrong, he was happy for the couples. But the longer he watched, the more he daydreamed and imagined the roadmaps of the relationships that he observed, the emptier he felt. And if he wasn’t careful, his emotions would begin to spiral.
Charlie wanted so badly to love and to be loved in return. He felt like a piece of himself was… missing, as dramatic as that sounded.
With a deep exhale, he shut his journal and began packing his belongings back into his bag. He finished off the rest of his latte, slid his arms back through the holes of his flannel, and stood to dispose of his empty cup in the bin near the counter.
“Bye, Charlie!” Otis, who was literally in the middle of taking someone’s coffee order, waved at him.
“Bye!” Charlie called back, offering a small wave.
Sai gave him a short nod. Christian quickly raised his arm to wave, a pair of tongs clamping onto a croissant stretching into the air. Charlie tried not to laugh as the boy lost his grip on the tongs mid-air, the utensil and pastry tumbling unceremoniously to the floor. Christian let out a strangled noise as he bent down to collect his mess, and he gave Charlie an embarrassed smile when he emerged from the floor.
From Delilah’s, it only took Charlie ten minutes to walk to the building that his therapy sessions occurred in.
There was a park that he passed through to save himself time, and as he walked along the concrete path, he observed his surroundings. It wasn’t a large park; a children’s playground and a set of swings were perched atop an island of mulch and dirt, an elegant fountain spilled into a small pond in the center of the park, and benches were littered about the paths every few yards.
Sometimes, Charlie would circle back to the park after therapy. It was the perfect place to decompress, listening to the sounds of chirping birds over his head and the rhythmic flow of the fountain. If nobody was around, he would even allow himself to sit on the swings, gently pumping his legs and feeling the cool breeze against his skin as he went back and forth in the air.
Other times, though, he wanted nothing more than to go home and sleep after his sessions. Talking about difficult topics and working through confusing emotions was exhausting.
He hoped that today didn’t leave him feeling drained, but he had a sinking feeling that it would.
Geoff’s office was nice. Cozy, even.
It wasn’t a stereotypical shrink with some sort of flat couch for patients to lay on, staring at the ceiling as they talked about their issues while their counselor sat superiorly next to them, hunched over and scribbling meaningless notes simply to look like they were paying attention.
In the room, there were two brown leather chairs that faced one another. The walls were painted a welcoming sage green color and were covered with various diagrams and posters. A small box of toys and trinkets was nestled in the corner for younger patients to utilize — Geoff specialized in caring for adolescents, so some of his other patients were many years younger than Charlie himself. A large window extended across the back wall of the room, curtains pulled to the side to allow the natural light to soak inside.
Nothing about the office felt medical. Well, except for the large oak desk that sat by the door — but Geoff never actually sat behind the desk while Charlie was there.
Geoff always sat in the chair directly across from him, which he appreciated. It made it significantly easier to open up to his counselor when Geoff was putting forth such great effort to present himself as Charlie’s equal, a genuine support system rather than an indifferent doctor who didn’t care to distinguish Charlie from any of his other patients.
Crossing one leg over the other on the large leather chair, Geoff’s clipboard found its balance on his thigh. He scribbled something down at the top of the page, then looked up at Charlie.
“How have you been feeling this week, Charlie?” He began, like he always did.
It was a loaded question that Charlie couldn’t stand, but he knew that it came from a place of caring. How has he been feeling? Truth be told, he wasn’t sure he would ever have a confident answer to that question. He felt his emotions and he felt them strongly, but putting them into words had never been one of his strong suits.
So, he gave the same answer he always did. “Better.”
“That’s good to hear,” Geoff grinned, fingers twisting the pen he held in his left hand. “What have you been up to this week?”
Charlie went through the list he had made in his journal. Starting with film night at Tao’s, he told Geoff about his small victory with the cookies that Elle’s mum had made.
One of the first things he had talked about in therapy was his eating disorder. It had taken a long time for Charlie to come to terms with the fact that the issues he had with eating were not, in fact, normal. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to eat, it was that he sometimes couldn’t.
He had felt like such a fool when he explained the “logic” of his eating behaviors to Geoff. “It’s like…food is the one thing I know I can have control over? I don’t…I don’t like not being in control, and sometimes when control gets taken from me, I feel the urge to compensate. And usually, that’s with food,” Charlie had said, struggling to find the words to describe exactly how he felt.
Even though he hadn’t felt like he was making any sense whatsoever, Geoff understood.
Geoff congratulated him for his accomplishment at film night, but then Charlie said, “I kind of feel guilty, though. I was supposed to go to the bookshop with Isaac, Elle, and Tao one day last week but I canceled last-minute. I wanted to go, but I was so tired…”
“Hey, remember what we talked about?” Geoff started, and when Charlie looked over at him, he was met with a judgment-free gaze. “It’s easy to get down on yourself. Instead of dwelling on the things you didn’t do, focus on the things you did do.”
That was fair. It was easier said than done, sure, but that’s what he was going to therapy for — to find new ways to shift his perspective and to learn coping skills to make it easier to get by every day.
“I know. I’m just lucky that my friends are so understanding.” Charlie chuckled, and Geoff nodded in agreement.
Charlie was lucky that he had formed such a supportive bunch of friends over the years.
At first, it had just been himself, Tao, Elle, and Isaac. They were the outcasts, and even though that label would sometimes subject them to teasing and bullying, they wore it like a badge of honor. They didn’t want to be like everyone else, and if they had to endure a few harsh words or “accidental” shoves in the corridors, so be it.
Then they met Tara and Darcy after Elle had befriended them upon transferring to the Higgs all-girls school. The girls were outcasts in their own way — not everyone had been kind to them after they announced that they were a couple — and so they fit in perfectly with Charlie’s other friends.
His friends were some of the most encouraging, supportive, and accommodating people Charlie could hope to have as he worked on healing his mental health. They stuck by his side through everything, and the level of trust he had built with them was one of the things that grounded him in times of crisis.
For the remainder of the session, Charlie went through the list he had made in his journal, informing Geoff about recent events, discussing potential coping skills to utilize when he faced a particularly difficult situation, and even going slightly off-topic to rant about the newest episode of his favorite television show and how the writers relentlessly continue to put Charlie’s favorite character in awkward situations that Charlie himself felt secondhand embarrassment from watching.
There was one more thing that he felt inclined to talk about. But the problem was that he didn’t exactly know how to… approach it.
Charlie opened and closed his mouth a few times, but words refused to escape his lips. Not that he even knew what to say. Maybe he would just bookmark this topic for next session–
Geoff set his clipboard on the arm of his chair, uncrossing his leg and leaning forward slightly. “Was there something else you wanted to talk about this afternoon?” He asked.
It was an invitation, no pressure behind his words whatsoever. He knew that Geoff would be perfectly satisfied if he chose to talk about it next week instead, but Charlie would have been lying if he said this feeling wasn’t royally bugging him.
“I just feel…” Charlie took a deep breath, blunt nails digging lightly into his knee. “I feel empty, like I’m…missing something?”
“Missing something,” Geoff repeated, contemplating his words. “And what is it that you believe you’re missing, exactly?” He prompted.
Charlie couldn’t hold back the chuckle that bubbled in his throat. Now that he was saying it, the whole thing felt dumb.
But he knew that Geoff would never judge him, so he pushed past his doubts. “I just see so many couples all around me, just existing, and I…I want that. And I’m not sure if what I’m feeling is envy, or jealousy, or…longing? A combination, maybe?” He sighed heavily, shaking his head. “I don’t know…I just think that I’m missing that person, but I’m also…” his voice softened to a whisper. “I think I’m afraid of falling in love again, after last time.”
Charlie could hardly call what he and Ben Hope had shared love.
After the word had spread around Truham in year 9 that Charlie Spring likes boys, he never knew another day of peace at school. The worst of the bullying came from the rugby lads, understandably so, but the odd glances he received from other students stung just as badly.
If he had felt like an outcast before, now he was completely and utterly isolated.
Ben had approached him one day in the band room, where he had been hiding out after school to blow off some steam on his drums.
The pure fear that had seared through Charlie’s veins upon being approached alone by one of the boys who bullied him had morphed to curiosity as Ben took a seat next to him, soft and vulnerable as he admitted that he admired Charlie for living as his true self, even if it hadn’t been by his own terms.
From that day on, he began secretly meeting up with Ben. They made out in empty classrooms, in between bookshelves in the library, behind the equipment shed on the rugby pitch — Ben pretended not to know who he was around his mates, but whenever they were alone, he was an entirely different person. He was sweet, and he made Charlie feel desired.
Things between them ended…terribly, to say the least.
He discovered that Ben had been cheating on him for months, and when he had finally built up the courage to confront him about it, the boy had turned cold instantly.
“We’re not even dating, how could I be cheating on you? Did you…did you think we were boyfriends or something?” Ben laughed incredulously before stalking closer, invading Charlie’s space. Charlie had been frozen in place, his heart tearing with every word Ben spat. “You’re nothing more than a plaything, Charlie. To me, and to anyone else who ever shows a hint of interest in you. The best thing you can do is let it happen, because you’ll never find anything better.”
He had backed Charlie up against a wall and pressed a leg between his thighs, connecting their lips forcefully. As hard as he tried to push Ben off of him, the boy was relentless in his advances.
Like a gift sent from Heaven above, the teacher whose classroom they had been occupying entered the room. While Ben was distracted by the sound of the opening door, Charlie pushed him off, sending him falling onto the tiled floor.
Since then, Ben thankfully kept his distance. Charlie blocked his phone number along with all of his social media accounts, but that did nothing for his peace of mind.
He was terrified to be alone, to be vulnerable to another potential attack. But he wasn’t only scared, he felt heartbroken.
Elle and Tao were understandably upset that he had never told them about his relationship with Ben, but both teens boiled with rage when Charlie told them everything that had happened through choked sobs and salty tears. Tao had some choice words for Ben, and Elle was confident that she could properly ruin Ben’s life, but Charlie had begged them to simply…let it go, to let that whole thing be over.
His experience with Ben Hope was another one of the things Charlie had worked through with Geoff when he started his weekly therapy sessions. It had been over a year and a half since the situation had unfolded when he began seeing Geoff, but it still haunted him.
Trauma did that to a person. And while Charlie hadn’t perceived what had happened to him as that, he realized after recounting the story to his therapist that it certainly was traumatic.
And, ever since that day, Ben’s words replayed in his head. You’re nothing more than a plaything, to me and to anyone else who ever shows a hint of interest in you…you’ll never find anything better.
Charlie wanted to fall in love, but he was terrified of getting hurt in the process. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to recover from another heartbreak.
Geoff was silent for a moment, as if he had been waiting to see if Charlie would continue, not wanting to interrupt him. When Charlie didn’t say anything else, Geoff spoke.
“Those conflicting feelings can be quite overwhelming,” he began, and yeah, they really were. “It’s in our nature to want that human connection, whether romantic or platonic. But for people who have had traumatic experiences with love and intimacy in the past, such as yourself, it can be difficult to actually allow yourself to seek out that connection.”
Against his own will, Charlie felt a tear stray down his cheek, dripping onto the skin of his wrist where his hands were clasped together near his lap. He stared intently at the carpet, closing his eyes as he listened to his therapist.
“You’ve got a lot of love to give, Charlie. And you’ve got a big heart, but your past has caused you to build up walls around it. It’s a natural response, but those walls don’t just protect your heart — they confine you as well. They keep out any threats, but they also trap you in, like a prisoner.”
Charlie…had never thought about it like that.
Sure, he was at least semi-conscious of the fact that he reflexively guarded his heart. It didn’t take a genius to decipher the pattern of practicing caution after being hurt in the past. But he hadn’t realized that one of the things standing in his way of finding love was himself. Now, he just didn’t know…
“How do I…get over the walls?” Charlie asked cautiously, looking up at Geoff, vision blurred slightly by his tears.
His therapist looked at him sympathetically, and Charlie knew right away that he wouldn’t be receiving an exact answer to his question.
“Love is not a universal feeling,” Geoff began, leaning back into the leather chair. “The concept is the same, but everyone experiences love differently, feels love differently. There isn’t a step-by-step guide to navigating these sorts of things, as convenient as that would be,” he let out a short chuckle, and Charlie felt himself snort. Yeah, tell me about it. “But the right boy will come around, and you’ll feel yourself wanting to break down your walls to let him in. And if he’s truly a boy worth the effort, he’ll help you do that.”
Charlie let his words sink in. It was a few minutes past the end of their session, and though he felt a bit guilty for keeping Geoff past his scheduled time, he needed a moment to process things.
“How will I know when the right boy comes along?”
“You’ll know, Charlie.” Geoff assured. A smile tugged at his lips, like he was drawing his advice from personal experiences.
“And what if…what if I don’t know, or what if I don’t find someone?”
“As I said, you’ll know. Maybe not right away, but in time. And you’re a very sweet boy, Charlie, someone will come along. Perhaps even when or where you’d least expect it! Love works in mysterious ways, after all.”
Charlie didn’t feel completely convinced, but he really did hope Geoff was right.
The next week flew by in a blur.
Charlie’s lack of a consistent daily routine was really starting to get to him. The days tended to blend together, and he felt as though some all-powerful being was controlling his perception of time with a remote control, fast-forwarding and pausing in aching increments and then reveling in his misery.
He was thankful for the weekend. He loved Saturdays, because he knew what to expect; going to Delilah’s, ordering his latte, journaling and people watching for approximately an hour, and then walking to his therapy appointment.
It was that confidence in consistency that allowed Charlie to actually relax.
But of course, life had the tendency to throw curveballs his way, and today, that came in the form of a mysterious barista whom he had never seen before. A cute one, at that.
He noticed the unfamiliar face immediately upon entering the café, and he silently cursed the bell above his head as it chimed to alert the staff of his arrival. The mystery barista’s eyes were drawn toward the door, and he met Charlie’s eyes.
Charlie swore that he felt his heart physically stop beating for a moment.
Suddenly feeling quite overly-conscious of how he may have been perceived by someone else (of course he didn’t bother to even attempt to tame his hair on that morning of all mornings), he began making his way up to the counter.
The mystery barista only became more attractive the closer Charlie got. He had soft-looking blond hair that was swept neatly to the side, and he wore the standard uniform of the Delilah’s staff — a lilac apron with the café’s name embroidered at the top and a black t-shirt. A t-shirt that fit this mystery barista perfectly, so much so that Charlie had to quickly divert his attention away from the boy’s arms because he worried they’d have him in a proper trance if he stared any longer.
When he finally approached the counter, he was met with one of the warmest smiles he’d ever received. He felt a tug in his chest.
The mystery barista said something, but Charlie didn’t hear him, mind occupied with the realization that he was completely and utterly screwed.
The barista looked at him with a curious grin and slightly raised brows. Oh, right, he said something. What did he say?
“I’m sorry,” Charlie blinked once, then one more time for good measure as he refocused on reality. “What did you say?”
With a short chuckle, the barista (Nick, according to the name tag fastened to the corner of his apron) waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t be sorry! It’s quite alright, I was just asking what I can get for you today.” Nick said kindly.
Are you on the menu? Charlie’s mind supplied unhelpfully, taking him aback with its boldness. He could never say that to a literal stranger, regardless of how their attractive voice sent actual shivers down Charlie’s spine or how adorable their freckles were or how they radiated energy comparable to that of the literal sun.
Yeah, Charlie was screwed.
“Oh! Right, I’ll just have a lavender iced latte made with oat milk, please,” Charlie recited, thankful that his order was ingrained into his brain because he wasn’t sure he’d be able to make any sort of decision in that moment.
Nick hummed, tapping a few buttons on the screen in front of him. “Lavender? That sounds rather good, actually.”
Charlie shrugged, giving the barista a smile that most likely reflected how awkward he felt on the inside. “It is,” he said lamely.
A latte and straw appeared suddenly, sliding across the counter and stopping in front of him. The sheer speed at which the drink had practically materialized took Nick by surprise, causing the boy to jump slightly.
Christian balanced a straw atop the lid, then pulled his hand back with a snap. “Enjoy!” He sang, nearly running straight into Sai as he turned to walk back to his station near the baked goods. Sai glared at him, and Christian looked genuinely afraid as he apologized and scampered back to his station.
Their antics made Charlie giggle. “Here you go,” he offered Nick money for his drink, and he pointedly ignored the jolt of electricity that shot up through his fingertips as he felt the barista’s hand touch his.
“Have a good day,” Nick gave him another warm smile.
Oh, I am, Charlie thought.
“You too, thank you!”
He retreated to his usual table near the window, ready to finally settle into his routine. Charlie pulled out his journal and jotted down notes for his upcoming session as he sipped on his latte, which tasted better today, for some reason.
One part of his routine that he didn’t participate in that afternoon was the people watching.
Instead, he found himself stealing glances toward the counter, watching from afar as Nick took patrons’ orders, crafted beverages, and talked to Christian, Otis, and Sai in between rushes.
He even swore that he caught Nick looking back a few times, too.