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It’s a somewhat impulsive decision.
Charlie isn’t exactly sure where the notion comes from, originally, or why it niggles enough to stick. He isn’t sure how it ends up feeling at once like a necessity and something not worth mentioning. He thinks about it, on and off, in an abstractly curious and urgently eager sort of way. But no matter how often it crosses his mind, he doesn’t really bring it up to anyone—not his friends, not his parents, not Tori.
Not Nick.
He supposes it isn’t something he actually thinks he’ll do until suddenly, it’s done. Or in the overall scheme of his more noteworthy habits, it doesn’t really seem like something that will matter.
He leans more towards the former, though.
The thing is, there’s multiple factors suggesting this is something he would never dream of doing. He has various anxieties about his appearance on a regular day. He’s particularly precious about his hair. He really doesn’t like going for haircuts.
So going for a trim and then getting his hair shorter than he’s had it in over a year and bleaching half of it such a bright blond it’s basically white? Well, it can probably be considered impulsive.
It’s just that he likes it. He’s seen it over and over on social media, has admired how people’s whole air changes with confidence or simply the look itself. Has seen it done in various shades of blond, blue, red, green, and everything in between.
He’s thought about how he’d never thought about how easy a part of his appearance it could be to control, without a hint of harm.
Then it’s done, and the control immediately starts to slip under his mother’s stare.
Eventually, carefully, she says, “You didn’t tell us you were doing that.”
“I wasn’t really sure I would until I was there,” is all Charlie has to defend with. It is, at least, true.
His mum considers him for another moment. “I could’ve given you more money.”
Charlie silently breathes out his relief. “I had enough,” he assures.
Tori blinks baffled eyes at him for all of five seconds before her lips turn up in a tiny smile. “You’re stealing my dubious coping methods.”
Charlie blinks back. “I’m pretty sure you don’t have a monopoly on spontaneous haircuts.”
Tori sips her lemonade. “You’re lucky it suits you.”
Oliver gasps in delight and immediately clambers into Charlie’s arms to inspect more closely, fisting his small hand in the newly-whitened strands with care. “It’s so cool! Can I have mine like this too? Mum!”
Tao responds with curiosity but overall approval, and Elle answers Charlie’s FaceTime later that week with a shriek of delight.
Despite it maybe not holding as a reason, overall, the change doesn’t seem to matter. He gets a few compliments and no insults, though the main response is none at all, which is perfectly fine by him.
So he isn’t sure why, when it comes to it, he still can’t quite bring himself to mention it to Nick.
The haircut would be a big enough change. Charlie may be precious about his hair personally, but he also knows Nick loves it. That if, forced to choose, Nick would list it as one of his favourite physical features of Charlie’s. Charlie finds it hard to think of an instance where he and Nick have had any sort of extended affection without Nick’s hands finding their way into his curls, and the memory bank is small. Basically nonexistent.
And with Nick multiple hours away at uni, Charlie doesn’t immediately have to face Nick’s reaction to the change. It’s almost depressingly easy to hide, really, with how busy they are with their respective studies and social commitments and some minor determination on Charlie’s part.
But he doesn’t expect it can last forever, and he isn’t surprised when Nick asks.
“Should we switch to FaceTime? It’s honestly a bit embarrassing how much I miss looking at you. I feel like it’s been ages.”
The sound of Nick’s voice travels all the way from Leeds, through the tiny speaker of Charlie’s phone into his ear, caressing the corners of his mind and melting down into his chest. It’s a balm to all of Charlie’s frayed edges, and the desire to see the words from Nick’s lips, to watch his eyes crinkle as those lips turn up in a smile, is so deep that it makes Charlie ache.
“Uhm,” Charlie delays, rolling onto his back in his bed and reaching a hand up to play with the ends of his hair. His heart cracks even before he asks. “Can we maybe not tonight?”
“Oh.” Charlie hates that it’s more concern than disappointment in Nick’s voice. It only gets worse when Nick complies instantly with the request. “Yeah, of course. Are you okay, though?”
Charlie blinks harshly. “Yeah. Just really tired. Feel like I won’t be able to keep my eyes open long enough to enjoy looking at you, to be honest.”
A soft chuckle passes down the line. “You should have said,” Nick says gently. “I can go, you should get your sleep.”
Charlie shakes his head quickly. He blurts, “No,” unable to imagine lying awake alone to think about how terribly and needlessly he’s lied to his boyfriend, while worries about any possible bad reaction continue to play on loop. “I—I really miss you. Do you think you could talk to me for a bit longer? If you’re not too tired,” he hastily adds.
“Not yet.” Nick’s smile bleeds through his tone. “I miss you too.”
Charlie rolls back onto his side, drawing his legs up and tucking a hand under his cheek. “How did your match go yesterday? You told me in your texts you won, but not much else.”
Nick lets out a groan, but there’s contentment in it, and Charlie reminds himself that Nick is happy, despite the period of turmoil it took them to get there. “God, it’s so much tougher at uni level. I’m definitely not one of the bulkiest guys playing anymore and I can feel it. I hurt in places I didn’t even think could hurt.”
Charlie can’t help it—he laughs. “Maybe you’re only noticing it now because I’m not there to kiss to it better,” he says, teasing. “You know, in all those tender places.”
Nick makes a sound of vague protest. “I thought you wanted to hear about the game.”
“I do.”
“Then keep it in your pants, Charles.”
Charlie snorts. “Alright. Your loss, Nicholas.”
The smile in Nick’s voice comes through even stronger. “So, obviously I still got us a few points, but Jason did this absolutely amazing tackle, Charlie, you wouldn’t believe how good he is…”
Nick takes him through the match, and Charlie’s eyes droop even as he smiles and envisions Nick in his element, until the next thing he knows, he’s blinking his eyes open to light lancing through his curtains and his phone lost somewhere in his sheets.
He brushes Nick off in this way for weeks, despite the growing ache begging him to see Nick in any way he can. A part of him tries to believe Nick doesn’t notice, but then Nick starts checking in with him more often—questions after his well-being more than any other aspects of his day-to-day—and starts sending him increasingly enticing photos, seemingly in the hope that Charlie will send one back.
And Charlie does, now and again, of his surroundings and their friends and himself, just not with his face or hair in the frame.
Nick’s obvious notice leaks through their regular phone calls, concern bleeding into his voice in bits and pieces, and then begins invading their messages.
Nick: I feel like I haven’t seen your face in ages. I miss you so fucking much you don’t even know Char
Charlie: i’m fairly sure i do know and it’s an absolutely miserable experience
Nick: You haven’t really seemed like you wanted to FaceTime the last few times I asked
Nick: Been thinking you might have actually gotten fed up looking at me lol
Charlie: never!!!! nick i want literally nothing more than to see you all the time i promise
Charlie: let’s not pretend we aren’t both aware of how painfully attracted i am to you literally 100% of the time
Charlie: i guess things have just been sort of hectic and i haven’t felt like it
Charlie: i’m sorry
Nick: NO don’t be sorry!!
Nick: I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad Char I swear
Nick: I only ever want you to be comfortable and okay with me
Nick: This time just feels like it’s been so long and I know I still won’t get to actually see you for a while and I miss you so so much
Nick: And I really don’t want to be annoying and constantly ask you how you are but I guess I’m used to just KNOWING and it’s not the same not being physically with you but it’s still so much easier when I can see your face you know? I miss your smile more than anything
Nick: I’m sorry I’m really not trying to be pushy
Nick: I sound so needy ugh
Charlie: I’m so sorry
Nick: DON’T I literally just said sorry for pushing. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do and I never want to make you feel like that
Nick: Honestly I was just trying to explain why I kept asking and that’s on me!
Nick: Please don’t feel upset or bad or anything about it I know I’ll get to see you for real soon and that’s all that matters
Nick: Can you let me know we’re okay?
Nick: Char??
Charlie isn’t so bad that he’ll ignore Nick for the next few days, but he does try his best to divert and then keep them away from straying back to the topic. It only makes him feel worse, because he’s sure he’s made Nick hesitant to ask now, even though he surely still wants to. Even though Charlie still wants him to.
But the fear has clawed into him and taken root, and so he avoids.
To the point where his boyfriend feels the need to check in with his sister.
“You’re being an idiot,” is what Tori corners him with. “You’re moping about because you miss Nick and he’s messaging me because you’re being weird and avoiding him.”
“He messaged you?” Charlie asks, anguished.
Tori huffs. “I don’t see what the problem is. Nick wouldn’t be any less obsessed with you if you were bald and you had blue skin.”
“Have you been watching Avatar?”
Tori pins him with a look. “He thinks there’s something wrong. You’re hurting him. Fix it.”
Charlie calls Nick almost immediately; a voice call, obviously.
He doesn’t greet Nick with a gentle rebuke for contacting Tori. His heart warms enough at Nick’s surprised, fond hello that he’s able to murmur soft words back. Only when the hi how are you I miss you portion is out of the way does he lightly mention, “I didn’t think you’d miss home so much you’d have to text Tori.”
It hurts that he can hear the apology in Nick’s voice. As if Nick is the one that has anything to be sorry for. “I don’t want to be overbearing,” Nick mumbles. “I just—I’m sorry if I overstepped. I didn’t mean to. Tori was surprisingly nice in her responses, so I thought it was alright. And it—I’m just worried about you.”
“You have nothing to worry about,” Charlie says emphatically. “Honestly, I promise I’m fine. Everything’s fine.”
There’s a small pause. “Do you,“ Nick starts, stops, then continues even more quietly. “Do you not want to see me?”
“No, Nick—I mean—of course I do. I always want to see you.”
His phone makes a funny noise, and he pulls it away to see Nick’s requesting to change the call to FaceTime. Charlie winces, and denies it.
When the voice call reconnects, Nick’s voice is wobbly. “Explain that, then.”
“I don’t—I’m not—I’ve still got my uniform and everything on and I look terrible right now.”
“You never look terrible. You never care about that sort of thing to begin with, not with me. Charlie, it’s been weeks. I can’t—how do you expect me to believe you’re okay when you won’t let me see you? It’s not like I haven’t tried.”
Charlie sucks in a breath and tries to release it slowly to steady his voice, but it sticks and shudders and he has to suck another one in. “I’m sorry.”
“Please, don’t,” Nick whispers. “Just tell me what’s going on, Char. Tell me what I can do and I’ll do it. We have another match this weekend, but it doesn’t matter. I can be ready to go and book the train for Friday evening and I’ll be there—”
“No,” Charlie cuts him off. “Please don’t miss out on your match for me. I promise there’s nothing serious and you don’t need to worry. And you definitely don’t need to come home.”
Another pause. “Don’t you want me to?”
Charlie closes his eyes. More than anything, he thinks, but swallows the words back. “I don’t want you to miss out on anything for me,” he says firmly. “We agreed we wouldn’t.”
“But we agreed there are special conditions if—”
“If it was anything serious and it’s not,” Charlie reiterates.
He can hear the shaky breath Nick takes. “And if—if it’s serious for me? If I really need to come see you, what then?”
Charlie bites down on his lip. He does the mental math. “We already planned I’d come see you soon. It’s only a couple more weeks, right? When we both don’t have anything on. So you don’t need to miss anything by coming here.”
The next pause goes on so long he thinks Nick’s hung up, or been cut off, but when he glances at us phone, the call is still up and the seconds are still ticking. “Nick?”
“Okay,” Nick responds, eventually. The weighty, wobbly concern has dissipated in favour of blank resignation. “Whatever you want, Char.”
Only the addition of the nickname makes him feel like they’re alright and he’s successfully dodged the bullet, along with the soft I love you Nick offers before they do hang up.
Then two days later Tori’s springing on him again, this time tugging his headphones right off his head at the drumkit in his room.
“Jesus, Tori.” Charlie fixes his headphones around his neck and glares at her. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“You have five minutes, if you’re lucky. I wasn’t going to leave him outside, but I saddled him with Oliver and told him I’d let you know he was here. Based on how terrible he looks, I don’t think he’ll actually wait that long.”
Charlie’s eyes widen incrementally as she speaks, then exponentially when Oliver’s excited voice drifts up the stairs alongside a lower tone that is achingly familiar. “Nick’s here?” he whispers, horror-struck.
“Shall I allow him up or would you rather make a grand entrance?”
Charlie makes a distressed noise in his throat, and before he can argue the value of neither, he hears footsteps on the stairs.
After everything, Nick still knocks.
Charlie squeezes his eyes shut as his heart squeezes. Despite the pat she gives his shoulder, Charlie imagines Tori’s rolling her eyes. Then there’s more footsteps, the crack of the door, and Tori’s breezy, “All yours.”
And Charlie opens his eyes.
It’s just in time to meet Nick’s gaze as he slips into Charlie’s bedroom, and promptly freezes.
Charlie resists the urge to throw his arms up in front of himself, standing instead so he can fidget more bodily. Nick doesn’t seem to notice. His eyes are glued to Charlie’s hair.
“Oh,” he breathes.
It doesn’t sound like a bad thing.
It sounds like the night of their first formal, when Charlie had finally rushed downstairs in his suit and Nick’s lips had parted when he’d seen him. It sounds like the first time Nick had woken up after Charlie during one of their naps together to Charlie gazing at him, likely with atrocious bedhead but definite dimples as he’d fondly watched Nick sleep. It sounds like the first time Charlie had clambered into Nick’s lap and pulled off the last lingering layer on his upper half, and Nick had skimmed over his bare skin with eyes and hands at once.
It sounds punched-out, achingly adoring and awed in that singular manner Nick has, as if any minor thing Charlie does is another reason to love him.
“You weren’t supposed to be coming home,” is all Charlie manages to squeak.
Nick shakes his head and finally drags his gaze from Charlie’s hair to look him in the eye. “Is this why you were hiding from me?”
Charlie shifts from foot to foot. “I wasn’t hiding.” He most definitely was. “I just…I did it sort of in the moment, and then I realised I had no idea how you’d feel about it, and I sort of…panicked?”
Still shaking his head, Nick creeps closer to him, eyes snagging on his hair for another moment before dropping back down. “God, I was going crazy. I thought something was wrong.”
“I’m sorry,” Charlie whispers, averting his gaze to the floor. “I knew it was stupid. But once I started avoiding it, I didn’t know how to stop.”
He keeps his eyes down even when Nick’s well-loved Vans enter his vision and a gentle hand settles on his arm. “You are an absolute idiot,” Nick informs him with the same gentleness.
Charlie risks a glance up and is rewarded with Nick’s lopsided smile. It finally unlocks something in Charlie—maybe just the realisation that his boyfriend is actually here—and he throws his arms around Nick’s shoulders and presses right up against him.
Nick’s grip settles familiarly around him, a strong forearm braced along his waist and a hand pressed to the centre of his back. He sags further into Nick’s chest, practically melting in his hold as Nick rocks them gently side-to-side. When it stops feeling like enough, Charlie draws back and kisses him.
Nick hums into a sigh, his hold on Charlie softening until it becomes more of a caress, one hand doing a light sweep up his back and down again, and the other drifting up to his neck. Charlie cups Nick’s face as Nick’s thumb strokes over his cheek, and presses up onto his toes as Nick’s hand finds its way into his hair.
His hair.
Charlie pulls away, settling back onto the flats of his feet. He goes back to eyeing Nick more attentively, but when Nick blinks out of his thoroughly-kissed daze, it’s to watch his own fingers twist though near-white locks.
Eventually, their gazes collide again, and Charlie waits.
“I understand why you didn’t tell me,” Nick says, solemnly. “This changes things completely.”
Charlie makes a half-questioning, half-constipated sounding noise in response.
Nick nods. “If you’d shown me the day you’d had it done, I probably would have booked a train then and there to come get my hands on it, and I can clearly imagine how difficult it’s going to be to leave again.” His lips quirk out of his serious expression. “You were very considerate of me and my impulsiveness when it comes to my incredibly sexy boyfriend.”
With a groan that’s almost a laugh, Charlie buries his face in Nick’s chest. He’s very much not doing it to hide an overcome, relieved smile. And the non-existent smile definitely doesn’t widen when Nick’s hand starts sifting through his curls in its well-practiced way, or when Nick dips his head to nose at the locks over his temple.
“You like it, then?” Charlie dares to whisper after a few minutes of basking in Nick’s attention.
“There was never any chance I wouldn’t,” Nick says, firmly. “You’re the most beautiful person in the world to me and nothing could ever change that. Except maybe something like this. Which actually I like an unbearable amount.”
Finally, Charlie’s lips spread in a wide grin as he tilts his head back to look up at Nick. “How much?” he needles.
Nick’s smile lifts higher, and he presses his mouth to Charlie’s ear. “I can show you,” he murmurs, sending goosebumps prickling down Charlie’s neck. “Once you promise to never freak me out like that again.”
With a pinch in his chest, Charlie tightens his arms around Nick’s waist. “I won’t. I promise. I’m sorry I was so silly.”
“You weren’t.” Nick kisses the top of Charlie’s head. “I understand your brain was probably being shitty. But one of the reasons you have me is to tell you when your brain’s wrong, remember?”
“I don’t remember that being in the boyfriend ad I put out, actually,” Charlie says.
“An ad?” Nick plays along with a low whistle. “Someone like you looking for something like that, I can imagine the amount of applications. The guy who got it must be pretty special.”
Charlie shrugs, nudging his chin into Nick’s chest so he can look up at him, even if it means exposing the full force of his smile. “He’s alright. Not too bad to look at, I guess.”
“You guess?”
“He can carry things around for me, so he’s worth keeping for something.”
Nick breaks into a laugh, and Charlie kisses it away, breathes it in until it settles light and buoyant in his chest and all the tension of the past few weeks disperses.
All the while, Nick’s hand stays buried in its usual home, fingers woven lovingly through bleached curls.