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As the light streams across his eyes, and the grogginess begins to fade, Charlie quickly realises he doesn’t quite know where he is. He never leaves the curtains open because he hates the experience of waking up with the sun shining in his face. It’s something he’s always hated, like a rude-awakening from the sun itself.
He begins to take stock of himself. He realises that there isn’t the comfort of clothes covering him body, he’s laying absolutely bare in an unknown location. This cannot be good. He never sleeps naked, especially because maintenance are always coming in his room even when it’s locked.
It’s at this point that he’s beginning to panic. Where the fuck was he? Why was he naked? His eyes aren’t even fully open yet, afraid of what he might find when he does.
Despite the fear, he slowly cracks open his eyes. He looks to see a uni room, not unlike his own, but its all wrong. The bed is on the wrong side of the room, the walls are the wrong shade of dull white, and the decor is definitely is not his own. In fact, he knows this room, but his sleep-laden brain won’t let him make the connection just yet, which is ridiculous, really because he’s spent as much time in this room as he has his own. Maybe it’s because it’s out of sheer disbelief, being naked in this room. Because of the implication.
The next thing that catches his attention is the warmth surrounding his body that is definitely not from a duvet, the type of heat radiating that could only be from the body of another.
Don’t get Charlie wrong, he gets with people. It’s a physiological need as well as something of a distraction, but he never stays . Why would he stay this time?
He doesn’t quite know who the other person is because he is facing forward while the stranger holds him from behind. Either way, he won’t be able to leave without causing the other to stir.
His brain, finally catching up, realises that “ fucking bollocks, this is Nick’s room.” Meaning that either, he had sex with someone in Nick’s room without Nick there, which doesn’t seem entirely plausible or he had sex with Nick.
Something so deep in him, something he’s spent countless hours in therapy trying to parse through and fix, rears its ugly head, and really, Charlie never stood a chance.
He quickly rips his body from the other, not sparing a look at the body behind him as he frantically searches for his clothes amongst the pile on the floor.
If the room hadn’t been confirmation enough, the Adidas jumper and joggers littering the floor amongst his own clothes was.
From behind him, he hears Nick slowly moving, probably sitting up. As if this could not get any fucking worse, Charlie thinks.
“Char?” Nick says, his voice groggy and sleepy. Charlie thinks he might be sick all over the floor and not because of all of the alcohol he consumed last night. “What’re you doing?”
If Charlie had to put a name to the emotion in Nick’s voice, he would have to say despair, but his mind refuses to grant the thought any merit. He simply cannot. It would shatter him.
“I have to go,” Charlie says, shortly. He truly doesn’t recognise his own voice in his ears.
He’s almost fully dressed now, just searching for his own jumper among the mix. In desperation, he grabs the first one he sees, not realising it’s not his own.
“Charlie, what’s wrong? Why won’t you look at me?” Nick is truly worked up now, Charlie doesn’t need to turn around to know. He feels like the worst person in the fucking world. How cruel can he really be.
But it doesn’t matter because something in his head is screaming GET OUT. GO. repeatedly in his head over and over again.
Without another word, he grabs his wallet and phone and bolts and doesn’t turn back. Not even once.
***
Last night
Charlie never thought he would be the type to go to a rugby game, period, let alone a uni rugby match but that must be the consequence of his friendship with Nick since his Year 10 and Nick’s Year 11. After meeting in form, the two became inseparable, always spending time together, always texting and talking. During Truham, Charlie had taken going to Nick’s rugby matches with their other friends to cheer them on. The tradition continued onto uni when Nick and Charlie both ended up at the University of Leeds, but now he goes alone, as their other friends are spread out across the country.
Either way, when Nick asked for Charlie to join him to celebrate at the local uni pub, he couldn’t say no. Not that he ever would, not when it comes to Nick.
He finds himself pushing through the door into the fray. The pub is absolutely crowded, with it seeming like there wasn’t a centimeter of space without a body there.
If someone else had asked, or if Charlie were a stronger man, maybe he would turn around and get the hell out of there, but he wasn’t, so he pushes through the masses until he hears the telltale sign of a boyish laugh, loud and bright. And there he was, Nick Nelson, surrounded by the uni rugby team.
Before he can even say anything, Nick spots him, and it stops him right in his tracks. There Nick is, cheeks flushed a wonderful shade of pink, probably from the alcohol and the heat of the pub, his hair a little askew, looking entirely delectable, in Charlie’s opinion.
Nick quickly gets up and makes his way toward him and within a second, his feet aren’t touching the ground anymore. There he is, being held in Nick’s strong arms, in mid air, and he really knows that there’s no place he’d rather be.
“Charlie! We won!” Nick cheers joyously, his breath directly in Charlie’s ear, making his body breakout into gooseflesh.
Basking in the joy, Charlie lets out a laugh of his own and says “I know!”. Nick has moved his head to look at him now, their eyes locked, and if Charlie was brave enough, he could kiss him right now. But he doesn’t. Because Nick doesn’t feel the same way. Because they’re in a room full of people and the rejection, especially public, might kill him.
As if Nick is reading his thoughts, he slowly places Charlie back to the ground, and it takes Charlie a second to find his grounding. When he looks back up, Nick is looking at the floor, hand on the back of his neck. Somehow, his cheeks even pinker than before.
Behind them, the rugby lads are cheering “yes” and “get in there, my son”. It almost feels like a cruel joke at Charlie’s expense, but he knows it isn’t. Nick was queer himself, bi specifically, and had told Charlie how he refused to play on a team that wasn’t supportive. So, he knows none of the comments are made with malice.
From that point on, the night becomes a bit of a blur. One second, he’s greeting Nick, the second he’s pressed against him in a booth with the rest of the rugby lads that is much too small. He’s being handed drink after drink, and he doesn’t quite have it in him to say no. And really, Nick is doing the same and Charlie feels like maybe he should follow Nick’s lead.
Despite his early hesitance, he finds that he’s actually enjoying himself. The players are all nice, if not as boyish as Nick. They truly take interest in Charlie, his life and his studies. It all makes him feel welcome in a space he never would have dared to dream would make him feel welcome.
As the night continues, the blur intensifies and he’s truly drunk. He feels himself sagging onto Nick, with Nick’s arm around his shoulder. It’s not unusual for them, this affection. Despite Charlie’s feelings, it’s a common thing for the two of them. It wasn’t unlike Nick to throw an arms over Charlie’s shoulders while walking together, or for him to link their arms. Charlie always wondered if they got mistaken as a couple while out in public, but he tells himself that it’s his crush that makes him think that way. No one could ever think the two of them as a couple.
As the rugby team keep drinking, though, they keep making remarks about Nick’s boyfriend, which has Charlie a bit confused and very much upset, but he doesn’t show it. Nick has a boyfriend? Since when? The two spent all of their time together. Surely, Charlie would know if Nick is seeing anyone.
Nick doesn’t provide any context, only muttering a few “piss off”s and his cheeks reddening.
Charlie thinks it’s his drunkenness that keeps him there, next to Nick, instead of wallowing in his room like he’d much like to do right now. The feeling of the alcohol is a nice, heavy weight in his stomach, making things feel not as pressing as they ought to be. Like asking Nick about his boyfriend.
At some point, the rest of the rugby team disappear, leaving Nick and Charlie to themselves, in their own little world, as usual. Despite the extra space that has been granted by the team’s absence, the two are even physically closer than before, with Charlie sitting in Nick’s lap.
They’ve never quite done that before and if Charlie had been sober, he would probably be panicking at this point, but he’s not sober, so he stays and allows himself to enjoy this feeling.
One second Nick is talking about something or other, a big grin on his face and his eyes directly meeting Charlie’s; the next he’s leaning in and slowly slotting their mouths together. It starts off slow and tender, with Nick gripping his waist with a delicious amount of pressure. Before either know it, it turns downright sloppy. Open mouths and tongues dancing together, it’s absolutely indecent, especially for a public place.
In the back of his mind, he realises that he’s snogging Nick fucking Nelson, the person he’s fancied since they first met. The person he would willingly spend every hour with, has laughed with, has cried over. Nick meant everything to him; he was fucking kissing his everything after years of pining and telling himself it wasn’t worth it.
While the realisation is pleasant, it also sends him reeling. Enough so for him to slowly pull away and look at him.
“Are you sure?” He asks, feeling a little bit nervous. What if Nick changes his mind? What if he realises what he’s doing and regrets it? But none of that happen because they are Charlie Spring and Nick Nelson.
Instead, Nick tips his head back and laughs, but not in cruelty because a moment later he leans in and kisses Charlie again. A peck this time.
“Yes, Char. God, yes, I’m sure,” Nick says.
Charlie doesn’t know who moves back in first, but what he knows is that he kissing Nick Nelson again in a way that should leave room for Jesus.
“D’you wanna go back to my room?” Nick mumbles against his mouth and he’s nodding before the other is finishing his sentence.
The two get up and go, with Nick holding Charlie’s waist the entire walk back to Nick’s flat.
***
Morning After
Charlie was on the verge of a panic attack.
He slept with Nick. Nick fucking Nelson. Nick Nelson that he was in love with, wholeheartedly and fully. And he had a fucking boyfriend.
Once again, Charlie felt like being sick, covering the pavement with everything from last night. Needing to sit, he finds a nearby bench, but it does nothing to stave the panic off.
Without even realising it, he grabs his phone from his pocket and rings Tori. There were only two people in his life who help him through a panic attack. The first was Tori, who was there for all of the bullying and his hardships through secondary. The second was Nick who knew him so intrinsically, so well that he knew how to help Charlie through panic attacks. He can’t really go to the second right now, really, so he calls the first.
She picks up after one ring.
“Charles,” she says, her tone deadpan but he can still hear the hint of worry she’s trying to mask. When does she always know when he needs her?
He’s trying to breathe steadily, but it’s a difficult feat.
After a moment, she speaks again, “What are five things you can see?”
“People, park bench, my shoes, my jeans, a building.”
“4 things you can hear?”
“Talking, cars driving, dogs barking, the wind.”
She continues to go through the rest with him and when he’s calmed down sufficiently, he immediately says, “I shagged Nick.”
“Oh, getting into it, are we?”
“Victoria, please,” he groans.
“So? What’s the issue?”
Charlie takes him a deep breath and prays that no tears fall as he says, “He has a bloody boyfriend!”
There’s just silence on the other end of the line, like Tori doesn’t quite know what to say either. Finally, after nearly 30 seconds she speaks. “What? Since when?”
“I don’t know! I found out last night!”
“And then you shagged him,” she replies, still deadpan, but this time it feels much, much worse.
“Yes! That’s the problem!”
“Have you talked to him?”
“No. That’s also the problem.”
Tori sighs, one that sounds too old for her age.
“You need to speak to him, Charles. Go do that,” she says, like she knows something he doesn’t. So, he does just that. He calls Nick and he waits.
***
Nick looks just as awful as Charlie feels when he walks up; eye red-rimmed and face splotchy. He’s wearing the same joggers as last night, but a different jumper. Why would he wear something-
Oh. It’s because Charlie is wearing his jumper. Not that it’s unusual for the two, but this feels much different than before. This isn’t a mate borrowing something, this is after they’ve had sex. It just makes things different.
As Nick sits down, Charlie realises that now things are awkward between them for the first time since they met. Don’t get him wrong, there was a bit of an awkward stage in the beginning but nothing like this. Not to the point where there is a complete loss of words between the two of them.
For the first time in a very long time, he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself around Nick Nelson.
The two are sat on the bench Charlie used to call Tori, as he immediately called Nick after their chat, but there’s so much space between the two of them now. Nick is nearly sitting on the other side of the bench and there’s absolutely no way the two could touch unless it’s intentional. That’s never been the case before. It heartwrenching and sickening, to be honest.
“So,” Nick says after moments of nothing.
“So,” Charlie replies. And there it is. That unwanted, unending silence. Maybe calling Nick was a bad idea.
Out of nowhere, Nick shifts to him. He’s looking Charlie up and down like he’s trying to memorise every inch of him. The more Charlie looks at him, the more his heart begins to fracture. He’s not ready to say goodbye to this. Not now, not ever.
Instead of getting up and leaving, like Charlie half expected, Nick turns to him and says, “Why did you leave?”
And that’s the question, isn’t it? He’s well and truly angry at this point. Why is Nick crying? He’s the one with the boyfriend and then he shagged someone else. Charlie is nothing but some side piece in this situation. He never thought Nick could be so cruel, especially not to him.
He cannot control himself as he nearly shouts back, “You have a boyfriend! I heard the rugby team talking about it last night!”
That seems to stop Nick from whatever he was going to say because his face grows pale and his cheeks go red. He looks at the floor and mutters something indecipherable. When Charlie asks him to repeat himself, he looks back.
“Charlie, they were talking about you, you muppet.”
“What? I’m not your boyfriend.” At this statement, Nick reels back, as if slapped.
“Don’t you think I know that?” He replies angrily. Why was Nick angry? Shouldn’t he be the one furious at the entire situation?
Wait. No, he shouldn’t.
“Are we still friends?” Charlie asks, feeling like a small child.
The question must surprise Nick because his head shoots up and his expression is severe. He takes a moment before answering, though.
“No, Charlie, I can’t keep doing this,” Nick takes in a ragged breath and Charlie feels like the Earth is slipping from beneath his feet. Is this how badly he’s fucked up? To the point Nick doesn’t even want to be friends anymore?
He tries to cover the sob that overtakes him, but to no avail, so he turns and tries to leg it. Again. It seems like the day where he keeps breaking his own heart and running away. All he wants now is to go back to his flat and wallow in his sorrows and the loss of possibly the best friendship he’s ever had.
“Okay,” is all he says because what else is there to say?
As he turns to go, a hand reaches out and grabs his own.
“No, Charlie, listen. I’ve fancied you since the second I met you. You’re the first thing I think of when I wake up and the last thing that crosses my mind before I go to sleep. Everyone who knows me knows how gone I am for you, especially the rugby lads which is why they kept making idiotic remarks about you as my boyfriend. I want that. So, so bad, Char,” before Charlie interjects, Nick continues,”I love everything about you. I love your hair. I love your eyes. I love how stubborn you are. I love how protective you are of the people you love. I love the way you love. I want everything you, everything. Marriage, a house, kids, everything. I don’t want anyone else and I haven’t wanted anyone else.”
“No, you don’t,” Charlie says, like an absolute fool. Because there is no way Nick, who he’s been in love with since he was 14 could ever feel the same way. Everything that happened, it could only have been a drunken fling. Charlie refuses to believe it could have meant anything else to the other.
Nick laughs, but it isn’t his usual charming laugh. There’s something bitter intertwined with the noise and Charlie wants to be sick right then and there. He doesn’t recognise this laughs, and he doesn’t quite know how to cope with not knowing something about Nick, but he’s finding out today there’s quite a few things he doesn’t know about his best friend.
“I can’t make you see it and I can’t make you want me, Charlie, but don’t tell me how I feel,” there’s a fierceness in his tone that seems so misplaced from the person speaking.
“No, you can’t love me because I’ve loved you since I’ve first met you. And I’ve spent years and years trying to give up these feelings I have for you, but I can’t. I just fucking cannot do that, so please don’t sit there and give me false hope. Please don’t do that.”
In a matter of seconds, the distance has been bridged between the two with Nick holding Charlie’s face in his hands.
“I mean it. Completely and utterly. I love you, Charlie Spring. This isn’t some cruel joke or some game. I’ve loved you since you since you came to my house for the first time. In the snow. Do you remember that?”
He does. Of course he remembers. That’s the point where he realised his feelings for Nick had no return. It wasn’t just some silly fancy or another. It was serious.
“Do you really love me?” Charlie asks, he’s putting his heart out on the line and hoping that it isn’t smashed in return.
“I do, Charlie. You have to know that by now.”
Much like last night, the space is obsolete between the two of them. Nick is still holding Charlie’s face in his hands and one second they’re looking at each other, the next they’re kissing again.
Except this time, it isn’t raunchy, it isn’t sexual. It’s sweet and tender. It’s a kiss that will say “welcome home” and “I’m so proud of you” and “I love you” in years to come. Right now, it’s the reconciliation, forgiveness, the start of something.
After what feels like hours, Nick breaks off the kiss. Charlie doesn’t miss the chuckle he lets out as he goes to follow him. When no kiss is granted, he looks into those brown eyes that he’s known since he was 14 and waits.
“Can we go back to mine now and talk about this? I’m freezing my bollocks off out here.”
Charlie laughs and stands up, holding out his hand.
Together, the two go.