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“I’d rather hang out with you, anyways.”
As admissions went, it was a tame one, but Nick felt the heat rise up in him the second the words left his mouth. A weird but oddly comforting truth, like you look so cuddly like that or he’s probably my best friend right now. A little stepping stone towards something bigger, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. It felt, honestly, like the kind of dream he would have as a child; comforting and warm but still slipping through his fingertips the more his consciousness tried to grasp at it after he woke up.
He shuffled closer to Charlie, flexed his fingers against the sofa cushions and fought the urge to ram them in to his pockets. Or reach out and take Charlie’s hand like he had wanted to for weeks. The music was still loud and hopeful, some kind of pop synth that put him in mind of that moment of clarity he felt when he saw Tara and her girlfriend being completely, unapologetically themselves in the crowd. That clarity that was seeping in to every movement he took, even the inching of his hand towards Charlie’s as his heart pounded. Beside him, Charlie sighed.
“So… I just ran in to Ben.”
The mention of him would have had Nick careening off of a cliff if he weren’t sat so firmly on the sofa in one of the hotel’s off-shoot rooms. That weird, trap door opening feeling that came from being so abruptly torn from one trail of thought to another. Emotional whiplash. Charlie’s expression was soft in the purple light; easy and hopeful and so hopelessly cute that Nick had to fight back the urge to grab him there and then. Ben wasn’t supposed to come up now, not when his fingers were so close to breaking free of the rules that someone once imposed on teenage boys that Nick understood less and less every day. So close to smoothing over Charlie’s knuckles whether he willed them to or not.
“Ben?” Is all he managed to spit out, his voice treacherously unsteady. Ben, who kissed Charlie again and again. Who pushed him up against a wall even when he told him to stop. Who hadn’t stopped lurking on the periphery of their friendship since the moment Nick pulled him off of him.
“Yeah. I mean... I dealt with it. He tried to, like, apologize for what happened…”
The edges of the world crept in around Nick; a hazy lightheadedness that made him feel queasy. Ben apologising. Ben catching Charlie when Nick’s friends had made him feel unwelcome. Ben coming back at the just the right moment to ruin things. His heart pounded and the music dulled around him. Charlie and the rest of the room felt frozen in time, but his brain filled in the gaps in the silence easily.
He asked me to give him another chance… and I said yes.
Nick’s throat felt raw.
Obviously this means we can’t hang out anymore, not if Ben and I are going to make an actual go of things.
Charlie’s lips parted, a slow exhale of breath before he spoke again and Nick braced himself for what came next. An argument was half-formed on his tongue, a list of reasons why they should carry on as they had been these past few months. Vague, and all culminating in the exact same thing: I really like you. It terrifies me. Please hold my hand.
“I pushed him into a wall and told him to go away. I think he got the message this time.”
Nick blinked, and the dark haze that had been threatening the edge of his vision receded until Charlie was there, clear and basked in colourful lights and smiling back at him. He grabbed his hand tight.
“I'm so proud!”
“Shut up.”
Charlie’s hand was cool under his, skin soft and welcoming like the time he had guided him to play the drums and teased something vaguely resembling a beat from him. He should let go, he knew, but no one cared enough to even look their way. Across the room, a group cheered and a calm clarity settled in him again.
“It's kind of noisy in here, isn't it?”
“Yeah.”
“Shall we go somewhere quieter?”