Chapter Text
Chapter 1
“One emotionally available, kind-hearted boyfriend, please.”
“I’m sorry - they’re not in season.”
“That’s what you said last season.”
“Well… this goes against company policy, but… they’ve actually been extinct as of April 27th, 2003.”
“That’s my birthday!”
“Then I guess the universe wants you to be miserable forever.”
“Yeah… That tracks.”
~
“What can I get you?”
The question startles Charlie from his daydream. He glances back at the menu.
“Medium cappuccino, please.”
Charlie notices the woman behind the counter leaning forward to hear his order over the din of the 8:30am rush. He frequents the Costa next to Leeds University Library every morning, so long as he’s not hung over after a mid-week bad decision and running late to his lectures. It’s the first morning back after the summer and a nagging first-day anxiety has meant he’s been up for hours. This is in fact his third coffee of the day - first at 5am, second at 7:30am with his bowl of cereal. She looks frustrated, and Charlie chastises himself for being annoyingly quiet.
Giving his name, he scans his costa app, pays for his order and joins the people at the end of the counter. A girl with a fluro-pink backpack slung over her shoulder pops up to collect her order and then hooks her arm around a shorter girl’s elbow, blowing a kiss behind them as they turn to rush out of the shop. Thinking it’s directed at him, Charlie frantically scrolls the rolodex of his acquaintances to work out if he recognises either of these girls. But then the man beside him chuckles, waves them off and crosses his arms - arms that distract Charlie from his thoughts altogether. With ears buzzing and stomach flipping he discreetly takes in the rest of his profile.
He’s tall and built, clearly - did he mention the strong rugby arms - his reddish-brown hair looks like he has tried to style it, maybe in a rush, and is left looking delightfully windswept as he brushes it from his forehead while the other hand rests in the crease of his bent elbow. Though he looks athletic, he has a softness about his features which intrigues Charlie. He’s wearing a green polo, the arms of which don’t seem to fit comfortably around the biceps Charlie is still staring at.
“Hi.”
Charlie tears his eyes away in time to see a slight smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth. His eyes are a chocolatey brown and full of amusement, his skin a slight pink beneath the smattering of adorable freckles. Charlie mortifyingly realises he has been caught ogling this man and stares down at his converses. He feels the heat flush his cheeks and the flips in his stomach are like an entire gymnastics team warming up before a competition. He tries to relax his face into a ‘Who, me? I wasn’t staring at you’ expression as he glances back in the man’s direction.
“Hi,” Charlie manages to confidently respond, if he does say so himself.
He can’t help the grin that graces his lips when he sees the man is still looking his way and smiling - a smile that ignites his whole face, reaching his eyes which sparkle. Charlie is taken aback by such a friendly and open response and he can’t help but think he might be utterly fucked. Day one, back for his second year at uni and he is. Completely. Fucked.
“Latte for Nick.”
The freckled, auburn-haired man turns his head.
Nick. Wow, okay. Nick. Oh boy, is my brain broken now?
Nick sucks in a sharp breath, shakes his head and steps forward.
“That’s me,” he says, chuckling at Tom who’s working the coffee machine today.
Charlie watches as Nick picks up a sugar packet, rips it open and empties it into his drink. He reaches for a lid while bringing the takeaway cup to his mouth to blow on it briefly before pushing the lid on and walking towards the door. Charlie doesn’t want to get caught staring at Nick’s retreating back as well. He decides to inspect the five pound, one-day-old banana bread and misses Nick glancing over his shoulder at him as he opens the door and disappears.
Charlie can’t recall his coffee order being called or leaving the shop. The next thing he knows he’s leaning against the wall of the lecture hall, halfway through his coffee with a huge dopey grin on his face.
“Why does your face look like that?”
Charlie looks up to see Isaac wearing a mischievous smirk.
“Huh? Oh. What? I don’t have a face. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Charlie can already tell that Isaac has clocked his downfall, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to make it easy for his friend.
“Who is he? Where did you meet him? Wait - you didn’t go out last night after I went to bed, did you? Are we going to have a repeat of the Charlie Hoe Era? ‘Cause I thought we were transitioning into the Charlie Potential Romance - though he refuses to acknowledge he wants a relationship - Era?”
Isaac is starting to ramble now and Charlie is finding himself mildly amused, although slightly offended at his friend’s assumptions.
“Come to think of it, a one night stand doesn’t usually make your face look like that,” he continues, while pointing an accusatory finger in Charlie’s face, “That face would lead me to believe you have a crush and I know you reserve those for dickheads and straight boys exclusively. So, the more important question is, who do you need me to do a deep-dive on before we work out which category he falls into?”
Isaac, reaching the end of his speech, reveals to Charlie - much to his disappointment - just how well he knows him. He drops his shoulders and sighs. He knows Isaac is right. He should be more offended at his best friend’s comments, but Charlie knows they are said with utmost love and understanding, so he chooses to shake them off.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Charlie repeats as he pushes off the wall and the two of them make their way into the lecture hall. It’s 8:57am and Isaac snorts loudly as he follows behind Charlie to find a seat mid-way back.
“Fine. Be that way. But you know you’re going to have to tell me eventually if you can’t get that lovesick puppy grin off your face.”
Isaac’s expression softens and he turns to face Charlie now that they’ve found their seats and pulled out their laptops.
“For real, though. You know I don’t actually judge, right?”, his eyebrows creasing. “I just want to make sure you don’t get hurt, you know?”
Charlie sighs again and faces Isaac, frustrated at his friend’s well placed worry.
Charlie doesn’t like it when his friends feel like they have to walk on eggshells around him. Enough time has passed that he wishes they would treat him like he’s no longer some fragile, broken mess. He’s had over a year of therapy and hasn’t relapsed since sixth form, even though his transition to university involved moving away from his siblings. He’s just glad he was able to attend the same university as Isaac, Tao and Elle. It kept him accountable having his closest friends by his side.
Charlie let his frustration go, choosing to ‘hold onto his joy’ this morning (his therapist, Geoff, would be proud). His eyes softened.
“I know, Isaac.” He lets out a chuckle and repeats “But… I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He’s lucky the professor begins the lecture at that precise moment, and Isaac’s response dies on his lips.
~
Professor Owens finishes talking them through their assessment timetable and the marking criteria and all the other boring shit that is the ‘first lecture spiel’. Charlie has realised he has been only half-listening and half-reliving his encounter with Nick this morning. He is now wondering if he just imagined Nick’s bright smile and amused expression when looking back at him. He imagines instead Nick’s face morphing into one of disgust while looking at some skinny, scruffy-looking kid that probably made him feel uncomfortable this morning.
Charlie glances down at himself and is now second-guessing his ‘first day back’ outfit - his black skinny jeans with rips at the knees and his oversized, rust-orange knit grandpa jumper. He remembers how his curls looked unruly this morning after his shower. Sometimes, no matter what he did, they just wouldn’t behave the way he wanted and he wished he had gotten his hair cut before term started. He put it off, like he always does. He doesn’t like change, and he had gotten used to his longer curls which fell around his face just long enough to tuck behind his ears; not that his curls stayed when he did. Charlie is just about ready to spiral, thinking his, “Hi,” didn’t sound nearly as confident as he remembered when Professor Owens dismissed them. As they began to gather their things he felt Isaac’s eyes on him.
“So… ready to admit it yet?” he tentatively offers.
“Isaac, I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Charlie snaps, making a beeline for the door and leaving Isaac behind looking dejected.
Fuck you, Charlie he thinks to himself, feeling guilty. Why are you so pathetic? What happened to holding onto your joy? Pfft… yeah, she left long ago.