Chapter Text
Nicholas Nelson didn’t think he was anything extraordinary.
It wasn’t to say he didn’t like himself or had low self-esteem; he simply felt, on the whole, average.
Just Nick.
There were things he was good at, like sports, particularly rugby. He was constantly on the receiving end of endless popularity and praise for rugby; so much so that his peers would often throw around the term king when it came to him. But, he often felt like that was where his talents began and ended.
He had a large group of friends, the Truham rugby lads and Imogen from Higgs, but Nick had his grievances with his circle. Harry especially, had an affinity for trouble. He was often found tormenting younger students that he deemed too strange, too offbeat. His behaviour had rubbed Nick the wrong way for ages, but his friendship with Harry and their inner circle was all he had ever known. Harry, Nick, Sai, Otis and Christian had been friends since they were young boys in primary school, and they hadn’t been apart since. Their friendship group was familiar and easy to predict.
But even still, sometimes Nick looked at Harry as he lounged on the picnic tables outside the school and almost felt sad. It was like he was looking down the barrel at the rest of his life and finding it unfulfilling.
He knew how his friendship group looked to outsiders. He wasn’t stupid; rugby lads had a reputation.
Just then, he watched Harry single out another younger student, this time an Asian boy wearing a beanie, who scoffed and continued walking. Nick felt that familiar tug of guilt.
He understood that standing by and watching Harry bully the other students was wrong. Sometimes, when he’d been feeling brave, he’d call him on his behaviour when things went too far, but it always ended there. Because Nick Nelson could be selfish, so very selfish. And he didn’t want to make a big deal out of Harry’s actions because he was always afraid that he’d be left with no one if he did.
And Nick was tired of being left behind. His brother David left him behind, but he was grateful for that; he and David didn’t share the brotherly love his mum wished they would. David could be mean. In many ways, he felt Harry and David would get along famously (or clash and combust.)
His dad, however, that one still stung. Nick couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually seen his dad. He didn’t often come to visit from France but Nick still tried to maintain their relationship via phone calls and the occasional email.
He loved his dad, but sometimes it felt like fighting a losing battle, trying.
Nick’s closest relationships in his life at its core were his mum and his dog Nellie. Nick and his mum rarely fought, she was exceedingly patient and fair. She let him push curfew on occasion, made sure he could decorate his room how he wanted, and always made sure he had a safe ride home. And of course, she bought him Nellie, who stuck to him like glue.
Nellie’s primary resting spot was wherever Nick was at any given time. She always had her head resting on his lap as he watched movies, warming his feet when he stayed up late, struggling through the last equations of his math homework. Nick loved Nellie because she never allowed him to feel alone.
“Excited to get back, Nicky?” Nick’s mum asked, shooting him an encouraging side-smile. Nellie sat on the car floor between Nick's feet, he stroked her soft fur.
“Yeah, I suppose,” he shrugged. “I have a new form this term.”
“Ah yes. Perhaps you’ll meet some new people there.” His mother, ever the optimist. She didn’t often voice her concerns about Nick’s friends, but he could tell that her opinion of some, namely Harry, was less than favourable.
“Yeah, maybe.”
________
Nick walked towards the table where his friends always sat. Imogen immediately waved to him, her expression bright.
“Good holiday Nicholas?” She flitted to his side as he leaned against the table; the boys behind them jeered seeing the two interact. Nick fought the urge to roll his eyes, not wanting to come across rudely to Imogen.
“Oh fine,” he shrugged. “Nothing too crazy. And yourself?”
“It was good! A new phone from mum and dad,” she flashed him the upgraded iPhone, already personalized with a floral case.
“Very nice,” Nick smiled, friendly.
“Oi Nelson! Get in!”
This time Nick did roll his eyes and flipped Harry the bird before pulling himself off the edge of the table.
“Gonna go find my new form,” Nick commented in Harry’s general direction. Most days he could go along with his teasing but after a few weeks of separation for winter break, he found he could really use an adjustment period away from the other boy.
He pulled up the photo he took of the paperwork for his new form on his phone, Hamlet 5.
________
Nick strolled down the busy hallway, passing by excited reunions and gossiping. He finally arrived at the classroom and walked in, noting that it wasn't very populated yet.
“Ah, Nicholas Nelson, good holiday?” Mr. Lange waved to him from his desk.
“Yeah, sir. It was good.” He nodded.
“Right, I have you in the back corner next to Charlie Spring, year 10.” he pointed in the direction of the table.
Nick wasted no time getting settled in his new desk while considering where he’d heard the name Charlie Spring before. He wasn’t in his year, Mr. Lange confirmed that, but the name rang a bell.
After drawing a blank, Nick shrugged it off. Maybe once he saw the other boy, he would be reminded of where he may know him from. Nick shrugged off his uniform jacket as the first warning bell rang. More boys made their way into the classroom, and a few of them nodded to Nick as they found their seats. He pulled his notebook and fountain pen from his bag to set himself up for class, momentarily basking in the heat from the sun that beat through the window onto his back.
As the last bell rang, his attention was captured by a thin boy with curly black hair and striking blue eyes heading toward his desk. Charlie Spring. He carried himself timidly, Nick noticed as he got closer. But even after seeing him, Nick still couldn’t pinpoint where he’d heard of him before, because he definitely did not recognize him. Nick felt like he would’ve remembered him, had they met before.
Charlie flashed him a shy smile, "Hi."
"Hi," Nick replied with a friendly grin.
They sat in silence for a few moments before Nick turned to him again, "I'm Nick."
"Charlie," the boy smiled, sheepish. Nick smiled at him again before turning his attention to the teacher taking attendance.
________
They carried on like that for the following few days, Nick found himself running into Charlie often and always made sure to offer him a greeting of sorts. The morning following their first meeting, Charlie pulled out his chair beside him, and Nick smiled in greeting from his own, "Hi."
Charlie seemed a little taken aback, or so Nick assumed from his brief hesitation, "...Hi."
The day after that, Nick was surprised to see that Charlie had beaten him to their desk. "Hi," He smiled down at him as he removed his bag.
Once again, Charlie hesitated before repeating "Hi," back at him.
He’d occasionally pass Charlie in the halls and would offer him a wave and a “Hi,” as he passed.
On the fourth day, the two of them were distracted as they walked towards their form, both engrossed in their phones. They knocked into one another in the doorway, trying to walk in at the same time. They looked at one another and laughed.
"Hi," laughed Nick.
"Hi," Charlie smiled nervously.
They walked to their desk together in silence and sat down. Nick looked to Charlie, "Good morning so far?"
Charlie nodded, "I suppose so, but it's still early." Nick laughed, noting that Charlie may have been quiet, but his wit was sharp.
He pulled out his favourite pen and his notebook to get to work. He was about to bring up another topic but fell short when he noticed discomfort written across Charlie's face. His brows furrowed slightly to himself, wondering if the boy was okay. He wanted to ask, but would that be weird? They didn’t know each other that well after all. He decided against it and began to work on an assignment.
They worked in silence for a while, Nick's pen acting up a few times along the way. He shook it to encourage the ink into the nib, but it worked but only for a moment. So he did it again, a big mistake. The end of his pen detached from the top, and splattered blue ink all over his white dress shirt, spilling all over the desk and his hands. Nick's cheeks heated up in panic and embarrassment.
"Err...Charlie...?"
The boy looked up quickly, eyes zeroing in on his blue hands. "You don't have any tissues, do you? My pen just...exploded."
"Ah no, sorry..." Charlie replied awkwardly.
"Oh dear," Mr. Lange's voice rang behind them. "Nick, you'd better go clean up in the bathroom. Charlie, could you go with Nick and open doors for him?"
Nick stood then, holding his hands up and in front of him, sort of like a surgeon he thought to himself. Charlie lead him to the door and opened it for him, following behind. He felt sheepish, embarrassed to have to be escorted to the washroom by Charlie like this. "Er...sorry about this," he muttered as Charlie opened the door to the next corridor.
"It's fine, hopefully, I'll miss some of first period...I have double science."
Nick cringed at the thought, he'd been there before. "Ugh, who'd you have?"
"Mr. Hutches," Charlie grimaced.
Nick cringed again but laughed. "Oh my god, I had him last year! He smells so bad of cat food."
Charlie perked up, "He does!"
They both exchanged a chuckle before lapsing back into silence.
"So, how did your pen explode?" If Nick was honest, he was a little taken aback by Charlie's question. Not due to its nature, but since Charlie had never gone out of his way to initiate a conversation with him before that moment.
"It's a fountain pen, they do that sometimes." Nick had been using fountain pens all throughout secondary school.
"Aren't fountain pens really hard to write with?" Charlie asked.
"Yeah, but they make my handwriting look well nice," Nick shrugged. They finally reached the bathroom and Charlie opened the door for him but hesitated. "At least keep me some company," Nick indicated for him to follow. "Can't have you trapped in double science any longer than necessary."
Charlie chuckled and joined him at the sink. "Let me," Charlie reached for the tap handles.
"Thanks," Nick smiled and set to work, coating his hands in soap and scrubbing at his skin. After the first rinse, he noticed in complete horror that he'd barely made a dent in the stain. "It's not coming off!" He laughed a little at the absurdity of it all.
Charlie giggled, "You're going to be blue forever."
Nick held up both hands to show Charlie, "I look like I'm wearing blue gloves."
Charlie smiled, encouraging, "You could make it the new school fashion."
"I'll pretend it's a tattoo!"
"I think that's against school rules," Charlie pointed out. Nick laughed loudly along with Charlie, he hadn't had a carefree laugh like this in ages off the rugby pitch. The ringing of the school bells cut through the noise suddenly, bringing the two of them back.
"Oh," Nick looked up at the noise.
"We'd better go," Charlie remarked.
"Was that first or second bell?" Nick had given up on washing the blue off himself and shoved his hands under the hand dryer.
"Let me check," behind him he could hear the ruffle of Charlie retrieving his phone from his pocket. And then silence.
"Charlie?" He turned to face him, noting stress flickering across his expression. Nick was about to ask what was the matter but then Charlie just choked out "Yeah, first bell." Before he excused himself, all but running for the door, leaving Nick to watch him go.