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It starts on a warm, winter evening; the sun low, telling you it’s time to head home soon. In a hallway in a house you’ve never been in before, but already feels like something you’d like to return to. It feels like you will return to it. Not quite destiny. Just a surety.
It’s been a quiet afternoon, no sisters around, his parents out. But while it might have been quiet in the house, you’ve never felt more restless. His hands on yours when drumming felt warm, his fingers strong around yours, helping you create movements that seem like second nature to him but are foreign to you. The line of his body so close to yours, budging you off the edge of the seat.
He leaves too soon, you almost want to pull him back and say - no, stay here, it’s nice . But isn’t that weird to feel? You’ve never felt like this before.
During the movie, he falls asleep, and there’s an experiment in waiting. Your hands feel cold now, even though they technically shouldn’t, having been stuck in the nooks of your elbows for the better part of the movie. His hand lies between you, inviting your hand it feels like, just to feel the warmth.
It should feel weird to almost touch his, shouldn’t it, but somehow, the only thing you feel is somersaults in your depth of your stomach and a need to slot your fingers in between his, embers of remembrance sparking of that moment in his room.
The world just amounts to his warmth. You don’t recognise this feeling you have, until you do; sticking your hands back into their safety beneath your arms.
In the hallway, he says he’s sad you have to leave, he wishes you could stay, and if you could, you would have stayed a hundred times over. The blanket on his shoulders overwhelm his body, and he looks cuddly, so wonderfully cosy, and before you know it and before you think, you pull him into your arms.
Your nose in his shoulder, and without realising it, you smell him and his scent, and it’s nice. He remains a bit stiff, and you wonder if you’ve done something too.. much, that you shouldn’t have done this, but you don’t feel like you can let go, just yet. Then, his arms move, slowly embracing you and enveloping you in his blanket.
And it hits you all at once; what you’ve done, and what you feel, and it’s radiant. It blinds you and shows you the truth.
You’re having feelings for a boy. For cuddly, cosy, warm Charlie.
And you never knew you could.
Within seconds, you leave.
---
The next time you’re in his arms, it’s in tears. Last night had been so wonderful, life changing really. You don’t think you’ll ever forget that kiss. Ever. But neither will you returning to the room after running away like a loser to find it empty, void of everything that made it special.
You barely sleep, mind racing over the events, memories waving in and out; Charlie’s finger touching yours; your soft yeah , so afraid, terrified, yet when you kissed him for the first time, everything calmed. It’s like your body was telling you it was okay, it is alright - Charlie’s safe.
You chase that feeling, running to his house, through the pouring rain and it feels like a cleanse, you hope it’s a renewal. It doesn’t matter that you’re drenched, you just want him to know how you feel. That it wasn’t him, never him, it was all you, because you never knew this about yourself and you feel stupid that you never caught on to it before.
It was a shock that it happened, but actually, not at all, because you wanted to kiss him so badly, so badly for weeks by now, but it was so quick - way quicker than you were preparing for. But still. It was wonderful.
A gay crisis nonetheless. And you wish you could give Charlie everything, because that’s what he deserves after all he’s been through and you can’t do it now. You need time to figure yourself out because how can he even truly know you or like you if you don’t even know who you are. What you are.
You expect disappointment. Anger maybe. A sorry, Nick, I cannot do this . And all Charlie does is pull you into his arms, his sleep-warm pyjama shirt, and you can’t help but cry even harder at the scent of him, at the way he pulls you closer. You look into his eyes, expecting to see indifference maybe, disgust, but he smiles, this sweet smile. A smile you lose yourself in a little, crying your eyes out in his shirt.
Charlie softly caresses your back while you cry and calm down; it reminds you of your mum a little. You feel like you’re a knot of wires, criss-crossed, impossible to be untied. No solution possible.
One caress of him pulls out the first knot.
---
Over the next few weeks, you hug him out of misery often, much too often.
In the bowling alley, the guilt of accepting a date when Charlie’s so defensive of you towards his best friend washes over you when you see his face, leaving the bathroom. You can’t tell him, not yet, of it, but you embrace him regardless, hoping that your apology and the enormous affection you feel for him , not for anyone else, seeps deep into his bones. You hear a soft laugh in your ear, and he slowly puts his arms around you. He’ll say to you afterwards, that was a nice gift and you can’t keep this going but you don’t know the words to tell him then.
But you will. It’s a promise that you manage to keep.
You resolved not to put Charlie in further harm’s way. You know what happened to him, and the way he closes off when he sees Ben - it’s up to you to make sure he’ll never have to deal with that, you know that. But Charlie says he’ll go to the cinema with you and your friends, and when he sees Ben and Harry, he pulls back his shoulders and goes in anyway. During the movie, you manage to hold his hand; with the other, you punch Harry in the face. But the worst thing is seeing Charlie’s face in the morning. Him seeing you in a new way, him saying you didn’t need to do it because he’s used to it, that you don’t have to give up your friends because some of them are nice and you can’t agree, not anymore, you can’t trust your friends like you do with him. You’ve never had to be anyone else but yourself with him.
In the middle of a classroom, you don’t care. If you can’t hug him, something you need terribly if you have to be quite honest, putting your head on his shoulder will have to do. You feel his soft curls cushion a little on your head when he reciprocates. You breathe softly through the stress; it slowly dissipates.
But interspersed with moments of misery, are those of joy. Of you telling Charlie you’ve told a few trusted people, Tara and Darcy, of you two dating, and he jumps onto you, telling you you’re amazing . And this is the Charlie you want to see more often so dearly, throwing his entire body on top of you, laughing in your ear. He’s so close, and after kissing, you just cuddle for a bit.
Feels like you have an internal battery for Charlie and it needs recharging just every once in a while.
---
It’s a warm day at the beach.
You’ve been so worried the past week, that everything was about to be done; he didn’t talk to you. The wires established a new knot every time you saw him and he walked away. You didn’t want to force him to talk to you, but it hurt that he wouldn't. It’s unimaginable really, that this would’ve been it.
You can barely imagine yourself happier when he kisses you again and tells you he believes you, until you tell him how much you love to like him, and you’d like to tell the people who matter.
It feels like it bursts out of you; it should feel foreign but it completely makes sense to you. Why not celebrate him; the sweetest, kindest, most wonderful person you’ve met. Charlie makes you happy, so happy . It feels like being with him makes you You. The You you’ve been pushing down without even knowing, or perhaps you were scared of in some way. That once that You would come out, there would be no one that would like it. Afraid that no one would care about you.
But there is, and you see it in his deep blue eyes, and his unbelievable smile. He tells you he never thought this would happen to him, and it hurts a little to hear his vulnerable voice and it overwhelms you a little how much you feel the same.
In your arms, he smells of vanilla, and a little sweaty, and the sun warms you both; comfortable, at total ease. Nowhere else you’d rather be. Your name in his voice feels right, and he asks you are we boyfriends?
Hell yes !
There’s no way you’re letting him go now. Through wet feet in the sea, on the stones that poke you uncomfortably in the back, all the way back to the train station and on the train; you’re there with him, wrapped in his strong arms, in his soft hands, filled with drumming caused calluses.
If it was possible, you would melt your bones to his. Not so bad to be stuck to Charlie Spring.
---
Coming out is so much harder than you had anticipated it to be. It went well your first time, but in hindsight, somehow you had known your mother would not take it badly. She’s alright, your mum.
But others, people who are not in the know - no. Those people are more difficult to pick. In your mind you keep on thinking of that promise, back at the beach, and the image you want to chase; of Charlie, looking at you with absolute fondness in his eyes, his dimples showing the sun on his face.
You feel like you disappoint him every time the words don’t come out of your mouth, stuck in your throat.
At the same time, he tells you to take your time, you’ll do it eventually and you try to trust in his judgment of you. Try to gain the strength from the nook of his neck when you hug him; his arms firm around you, over and under, or both on top of your shoulders.
You come to rely on it, really, when all seems to come crashing down on you - when an old friend keeps dating the one person in the world you’d rather would fall of it by now; who you know has hurt your boyfriend in ways you don’t even think you know everything about; who keeps popping up and accusing you of being unreasonable and scared and a horrible boyfriend; and now he’s latched himself onto another vulnerable person who tells you she hasn’t got many friends.
And this all just before the worst exam of your GCSE cycle. You’re not seeing words, numbers or lines that make sense anymore.
Later at home, you send him a message about your terrible day, and like clockwork, as if all the hurt of the day wasn’t quite enough, David comes in your room again. It’s your space, and he keeps on coming in, taking a look at how he can make your already miserable day can be even more miserable.
And then he impedes even more; taking your phone, and looking at a message from Charlie coming in. He just can’t leave you alone.
The anger turns into anxiety; and the only string you have left to rest is in Charlie’s message. You quickly say goodbye to your mum, pulling Nellie along.
Once you see him, it feels like you took a pill to ease your headache. His weight on your shoulders once you reach him grounds you like nothing else would’ve been able to. It hits you that Charlie did this for you, specifically you - you feeling bad, terrible, having the worst day. He snuck out from under his parents’ watchful eyes, just to make you feel better.
No one’s ever done that before.
Your eyes feel watery of relief, but you keep it in. Having him there is all you need for the day to feel a little lighter. More manageable.
Charlie will keep you afloat, steady. Safe.
---
After your final exam, you don’t even care. Charlie flies into your arms in full view of others and all you want to do is kiss him silly.
You settle for a hug, though. Not yet.
---
In Paris, you are reborn.
There’s nothing like being around him for 24/7, and while you would have loved the opportunity to share a bed for multiple days, you also don’t want to make it awkward for the rest of the boys.
But still, you get to be around him, a lot. You’ve decided to put the pressure of coming out before Paris behind you. Keep it lowkey. The future of summer looks bright. And maybe it helps a little, because no one seems to notice, and even when you inadvertently manage to give him a hickey, no one’s first instinct seems to be you.
Kind of a double-edged sword; a blessing and a curse. Apparently it’s not noticeable, you don’t get too many questions. Apparently you look too straight to be otherwise. That kind of hurts a little, because you’re absolutely not, and it might’ve made it easier to tell people. Then again, imagining not being able to hide it does terrify you a little. Those people are so courageous, you think. It sounds impossible.
Just like the way Charlie can’t hide by now, everyone knows he is The Gay Kid, and the hickey turns the gossip mill around like no other. It hurts seeing him like that and not being able to do anything about it. Just come out then , you think, it solves everything . The anxious waves in your stomach keep you from doing so, but you do try to let loose a little.
What if it was? You jealous?
Charlie touches your fingers in affection after. You wish he would keep doing it.
You need him.
---
A few hours later, Charlie faints in a sweltering room in the Louvre, you barely on time to keep him from a hard fall. He doesn’t wake up immediately. When he does, he looks a little afraid.
This time, you do push. You’ve noticed the eating, you can’t help but have noticed. He tells you about it.
He’s been dealing with a lot more than you didn’t even know about.
Later, when he’s eaten, and your dad calls, Charlie asks you for a deal; to tell each other when stuff is going on. You agree.
When you are in his arms, and the warmth of his neck warms your face, the worry you’ve felt slowly seeps into you. The image of him lying limp in your arms is one you still see. You’re so glad he’s okay for now.
You can’t imagine what would happen to you if he hadn’t been.
---
What are you doing?
Just.. recharging.
---
Caring for him in silence isn’t enough anymore.
Me. We’re dating .
The stress, and relief, all packs into one, when you leave the teachers’ bedroom and your friends behind in another. All you want is a hug.
Now you go for it, enveloping him in your arms, splaying your fingers across his shoulder blade, nearly picking him up with the force of it. Charlie’s on his toes, pulls his arm stronger across your neck in response to it. He really keeps you together.
In joy, and affection, and maybe something more, you can’t help but just pick him up across your shoulder. You don’t care if anyone sees.
They’ll know soon enough anyway.
---
It feels good to wake up next to him, wrapped in his arms. Maybe this is how it should be.
---
Coming out to your father is terrifying and not at all what you imagined it to be all at once.
Charlie hugs you after, and for once, it feels less like you need him to hold you together. You feel okay. You told your father everything you’ve felt for years and you came through it unscathed.
But a hug from him you would never not accept.
Especially when he wraps you ever tighter than usual, compressing you.
You love the way Charlie cares for you. So deeply. So sure.
---
On prom day, somehow you cannot stop hugging each other. You swing him round and round when you meet him in the morning, after you’ve posted on Instagram. So happy, maybe the best hugs.
You pick him up once he reveals his prom outfit to you, and it hits you how wonderful he looks and how he doesn’t even seem to know it. To you, Charlie’s cute, and so handsome in his suit, his curls to die for and when he laughs he has dimples and he’s beautiful, and he told you how he can’t believe you’re his boyfriend but really, you can’t believe how you landed him . Such a sweet boy, funny when he’s fiery, and good person.
There’s no one like him.
And during prom day, you realise you have to talk to him about the bullying, because you start noticing the word perfect , and everything’s fine, and you can’t help but be scared about what that means from Charlie, when he’s been eating less and less and has talked even less about it.
Maybe it shouldn’t be something that you should talk about with him, but you feel like maybe, you’re the only one who can. Back at your place, you hug him closer and closer under the disguise of a slow dance, and you have to talk to him about it, because here right now, you’ve never felt like this before.
So at home. So safe. You want him to feel that way about you too.
You’re halfway through the question before you even realise it, and it takes him aback. He curls up, the smallest he can be, closing himself off because it must be scary to talk about, you get it, but he has to, so you come close to him, pulling his arm and hand towards you, feeling the pulse underneath his skin, opening him up to you - in the hope that with his hand in yours, he’ll find the courage.
He looks at you. And he does.
It stuns, and breaks your heart, and you wait until he’s done. All of a sudden, you feel too far away, you need him close, to feel him against you; warm, still breathing and alive.You pull him in, feeling spots of wetness on your shoulder, responding in kind on his. If time could go on pause, it feels like it did right now, because the world is just this; you and him, on the floor of your room, the safest place that you share. There’s nothing else for just a second.
You tell him to talk to you. There’s nothing to fix, he’s not broken. You just want to shoulder his world with him if you can. He’s your boyfriend. And that’s just part of it. It’s up to you to be there, you are resolved on that.
You kiss him on his head when he agrees; you wish it would take the worry and the hurt from his head but you know it won’t. You keep so close, and after kissing him, the look in his eyes is so beautiful, so calm. You tell him all you that you see; that you love his curly hair, smelling a little of coconut sometimes, and his deep blue eyes that you can look at forever to fully research its colour. He’s always seen you more than anyone else could.
He smiles and laughs, and it feels good, and before you know it.
I love…
You stop. You breathe. Charlie’s warm underneath your fingertips, hairs curling a little around your fingers, your legs squish him close.
Oh , you think.
Maybe all of this is love.