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At the most illustrative age of 15, Nicholas Nelson knew everything, as everyone knows it is in the teenage nature to have full comprehensive knowledge of the world. which is why, on a mild September day, Nick chose to release Nellies lead since she was always well-behaved. Having thoughts to the contrary, Nellie quickly ran through a garden of freshly planted tulip bulbs. Thoroughly distracted by his mad dash to grab Nellie, a noise startled him from behind. Turning he found himself face to face with a woman scowling in disappointment.
“Young man,” she called out, “was this you who tore up my afternoon of hard work?”
Nick gulped, and shook his head. For surely he and Nellie were not the same.
“I say again, troublesome youth, was it you?” And again Nick said no, for it was Nellie, not him, who had damaged the garden.
Angry, the old woman seemed to grow until she towered above Nicholas, and called out:
“...until the day you confess that which you most strive to hide,
Only the truth will burst forth, you can no longer lie… “
Whatever, Nick thought to himself. That didn't even rhyme. Old Bat.
The truth - or rather, the truth about the truth - did not emerge until later that evening when Sarah Nelson called up to her all-knowing teenage son to ask if he was studying. As Nick quickly shut his laptop, hiding the screen, terminating the 253rd viewing of the original “Pirates of the Caribbean”, he called back to his mother. “Yes Mum! I am studying,” however to his horror the words continued to flow out of his mouth, unbidden, “... Orlando Bloom's arse”.
Nick slapped a hand to his mouth in horror. Over the course of the evening Nick tried - and failed - to form a lie. With each failed lie, the words either continued until they formed something true, or they stopped in his throat completely.
It was only then that the old hag’s words came back to him. Until he confessed what he “most strives to hide”... but what was that? His deepest darkest secret? Nick gulped, because he had an inkling what that secret might be, but he hadn’t confronted it himself, and thus was not ready yet to tell others.
And so Nick learned. He learned that as long as he said a truth, it need not be the truth. And his secret remained safe within the confines of his heart. And his internet browser. But mostly his heart.
And time marched on as it does. Nick turned 16. He played rugby. He celebrated Christmas. He celebrated New Years. All was fine.
Until January, at least.
That January his life changed, once again. The day of new forms. The day that he met his new best friend. The day he met Charlie.
Just knowing Charlie caused the world to shift around him, and once again Nick knew soon his deepest secret would be told, as he could no longer hold it in. Sweet, funny Charlie. Sexy, confident Charlie. Charlie who, Nick was convinced, could never reciprocate.
As each day passed, Nick felt himself slipping more, until one tearful day he sat in front of his mum and confessed. “I'm bisexual.”
It was as though a weight was lifted from his shoulders. After comforting her son, Sarah asked the obvious follow-up (despite being fairly certain she knew the answer), “And is there someone who you are interested in right now?” And oh - now that his darkest secret was told, he could lie again. “No!” came his panicked reply, immediately followed by “...one expects the Spanish inquisition!” Fuck.
“Ehhh, not following,” Sarah said, face contorted in confusion.
Nick was panicking… He still couldn't lie? “No!” he cried, his eyes dashing around, landing on his closed laptop. “No..rton antivirus needs to update!” Nick grabbed his laptop and ran to his room.
Because somewhere in the past few months the content of Nick’s deepest darkest secret had changed. His bisexuality was no longer the secret that he strove to hide most, but rather his deep, all-consuming, unrequited love and lust for his best friend.
The world turned, the moon changed phases, the tides went in and out, and Nicholas Nelson still couldn't fucking lie. But he was managing. Totally . As long as he diverted the phrasing to some other truth he was able to skirt blurting out the obvious. Like when he wanted to invite Charlie to casually attend Harry's birthday party. It should be simple enough, right? “Do you want to come to Harry's party,” but then his voice continued on “ with me”. With me? Seriously? That sounded like a date. Charlie was going to figure it out.
Charlie mentioned cutting his hair after rugby one day and before he could stop himself he objected loudly, only to back it up with “Uh… it would be a big change.” Sure Nelson. Nothing to do with your fantasy of running your hand through his hair. That's not weird at all .
Sometimes Nick could feel his secret just under the surface. It seemed as though the secret had a will of its own, and it never seemed quite as insistent as when he spent time with Charlie directly, but he couldn't NOT spend time with Charlie. And so he suffered.
On one such day Nick found himself holed up in his bedroom with his crush-to-end-all-crushes, “studying”. As in, Charlie was studying homework, and Nick was studying Charlie.
“Nick!” Charlie threw a pencil at his face, “you aren't even studying.”
“Am so!” Nick replied indignantly. “I'm studying your arse… “ Shit. Nick scanned the room, spying a small globe in the corner. “European Geography!” he yelled triumphantly, hoping Charlie would just assume that he had misheard. “Yes,” Nick continued on, feeling more confident in his ruse. “I love…” Fuck . He didn't love European Geography . Or any geography for that matter. Nick could feel his tongue just itching to complete the sentence with flowery epitaphs about how he loved Charlie's curls or dimples (or arse), until he finally blurted out “I LOVE NELLIE!”.
Charlie snorted at this. “I'm sure you do but… nevermind. Let's get back to studying.”
Nick gulped. Now that his secret had almost slipped out he could think of nothing else. That curl falling over Charlie’s eye was so… delectable.
I could just eat him up.
Charlie looked up, confused. Fuck. Was that out loud?
“Yes, Nick,” Charlie responded. “You are in fact speaking out loud.“
“I said I could eat! Snacks! I'm hungry!” Nick was panicked at his apparent lack of an internal monologue. “I want to taste you…r favourite tea.” Fuck.
“We can go get some food,” Charlie said, although his voice still had a bewildered, questioning aspect to it.
Relieved that his ruse had worked, Nick relaxed. “Thanks, Char. You’re the best. I love y…uh… YouTube shorts! About gay…uh, I mean, about gaming!” Nick pulled his lips in a tight line and bit down hard, determined not to let any more words slip out. Every moment that he relaxed, unbidden words spilled from his mouth.
As they loaded up on snacks, laughing about the generic things that teenage boys laugh about (please don't ask the author to elaborate on this, it's a mystery that extends across the depths of the universe), Nick found himself becoming increasingly flustered as his no-longer-inner monologue had to be continuously corrected as he blurted out
“I want to lick … SOME ICE CREAM!”
Nick buried his face in the freezer door hoping the icy draft would quell the bright red flush that bloomed when he realized what he had almost said.
“Your lips look so… LIKE YOU NEED SOME CHAPSTICK!”
Nick then proceeded to throw two tubes of lip balm at a very confused Charlie before biting down hard on his tongue to prevent further lapses.
“Sometimes I dream about you and me… GOING TO THE MOVIES!”
The last thing Nick needed to confess was his dreams. Particularly that one dream of him and Charlie… FUCK! Don't continue that thought Nicholas!
“God Charlie, I just love… AVENGERS! THOR! IRON MAN!”
Nick bit his tongue really hard on the last one because he didn't want to elaborate just why he liked watching muscled men running around in skintight suits.
Just as Nick thought he had everything under control, Nellie started barking to go outside, and the postman rang the doorbell, to which Nellie got the zoomies and knocked over a lamp and before Nick knew what was happening he not only proceeded to not manage his internal and external monologue but every twisted truth corrected itself in one epic reverse-chronological word vomit…
GOD CHARLIE I JUST LOVE YOU SO MUCH - I DREAM ABOUT YOU AND ME BEING TOGETHER - YOUR LIPS LOOK SO SOFT I WANT TO SNOG YOUR FACE OFF - I WANT TO LICK EVERY INCH OF YOUR BODY - YOU'RE THE BEST AND I LOVE YOU - I WANT TO TASTE ALL OF YOU - I LOVE YOU AND I WAS ACTUALLY STUDYING YOUR ARSE.
AND I HATE GEOGRAPHY.
Luckily for Nick (although Charlie would likely have enjoyed it) the reverse chronological confession only seemed to apply to the almost-lies that Nick had told Charlie that particular day, and Charlie was not subjected to Nick's not-so-careful truth-twisting from the entire past 6 months.
This, of course, is how Nick died. Death by embarrassment. Death by rejection from his best friend. Death by heartbreak.
Death by … finally knowing how Charlie tasted as Charlie launched towards his best friend and kissed him?
“So… you like me?” Charlie asked, his eyes twinkling with laughter.
“O f course I like you. I love you,” Nick replied. “Do you… do you like me?”
Charlie grabbed Nick's face and kissed him softly. “Obviously.”