Work Text:
The first thing Charlie notices when walking into the studio where the art class is held, is the large clothed-covered podium at the front of the room. So far, in past art lessons, the subject they painted would always be centred on a table of some sort. The podium in front of them now looks big enough to hold one, if not two, fully grown adults.
“Charlie!” Elle chimes with excitement behind him. He turns around, her infectious smile spreading to him immediately. “I’m so excited! You know what this setup means, right?” she asks, waving her perfectly manicured hand to the rest of the classroom. Charlie studies it, noticing that the easels are all facing the podium on one side of the room instead of being placed evenly in a circle.
Before he gets a chance to voice his confusion, people begin to fill into the class and the pair quickly find easels placed next to each other in the front row. As the room settles, the professional artist leading the lessons, Nathan Ajayi, walks in.
From what Charlie’s read, Mr Ajayi is widely recognised as one of the most significant LGBTQ+ trailblazers in the contemporary art industry. Through his innovative work, Mr Ajayi has carved out a space where LGBTQ+ narratives can be seen, heard, and celebrated, both within the art world and beyond. When he announced earlier this year that he would be hosting an exclusive twelve-week art workshop in London for emerging young artists, Elle confided in Charlie that she was considering applying.
Charlie encouraged her every step of the way, cheering her on and even helping her select a piece of artwork to submit. Three weeks later, Elle received an invitation via post from Mr Ajayi himself. Excited, she called Charlie over to celebrate, eager to share the details over a glass of wine. Not only did she inform him about the workshop, which would take place every Monday and Friday, but she also revealed that Mr Ajayi's invitation included a plus one. When Charlie asked who she was thinking of taking, Elle smiled and said she wanted him to go.
Charlie was wary at first, unsure of what to expect, but from the moment classes began, he has had nothing short of the time of his life. Working with Mr Ajayi has been beyond inspiring. Not only does he teach invaluable artistic skills, but he also fosters a sense of community and activism. Every week, he hosts gatherings for people interested in LGBTQ+ and BIPOC activism, creating a space where discussions on identity, equality, and social change flow freely. These get-togethers have become a highlight for both Charlie and Elle, as it’s allowed them to learn, grow, and connect with others who are just as passionate about making a difference.
“Alright,” Mr Ajayi says with a smile as he leans against the podium. “Welcome everybody to week nine of our twelve week workshop! Let’s take a moment to pause and pat ourselves on the back for the progress we’ve all made so far.”
After a short round of applause, he continues. “Now, I’m sure some of you are probably confused as to why the table magically transformed into a podium. This final topic that we’re going to be doing over the next three weeks is one of my favourites! But before I describe it in more detail, I also have a special announcement to make,” he says, beaming. “Since this is the first workshop series I've run, I want to hold a celebration for you all. Thanks to some of my connections, I’ve managed to secure us a space at the Royal Academy of Arts–”
Elle gasps, her hand grabbing Charlie’s wrist tightly while her free hand covers her mouth. Whispers of excitement begin to buzz amongst them and it makes Charlie want to curl in on himself.
Why is this such a big deal exactly?
"Each of you will have a dedicated spot in the gallery where you can hang whichever art piece you choose from the selection of projects we've worked on. This is your opportunity to showcase your personal favourite, something that reflects your growth and creativity throughout our time together here. Whether it's a piece that challenged you or one that holds a special meaning, this exhibition is your moment to share it with others."
“Charlie!” Elle whispers excitedly. “Oh my god, the RA is a huge deal!”
“What’s so special about it, exactly? It sounds like just another gallery to me,” Charlie admits sheepishly.
“Charlie, the Royal Academy of Arts has been around for two hundred and fifty years. It holds some of the most historically significant artists of all time! People like Michelangelo, DaVinci, Raphael… Have you seriously never heard of this place?” Elle asks incredulously.
“Elle, I love you to the ends of the earth, but before I signed up for this class, I didn’t even know who Mr Ajayi was. I know even less about art galleries,” Charlie sighs.
“So now that we’ve got our excitement out, let’s dive in,” Mr Ajayi says, prompting the room to fall silent again. “Our final project is going to be sketching and then painting a live model.” As he says the words, the sound of quiet laughter could be heard, prompting Mr Ajayi to chuckle too. “Go ahead, you can get your chuckles out.”
“Why is everyone giggling like we’re back in secondary school?” Charlie asks quietly. The mischievous smile that Elle answers with makes his stomach fill with bubbles of anxiety, mixed with a splash of curiosity.
“You’ll see,” Elle winks.
“I do want to give a warning for those who don’t know,” Mr Ajayi continues, almost as if reading Charlie’s mind. “The live model we have joining us today will be nude. If that makes you uncomfortable, then by all means, you can sit this project out and choose one of our others. However,” his tone shifts slightly, an edge of urgency to it, “I would like to invite each of you to step outside of your comfort zone because that’s exactly what art is. It’s about exploring your limits and pushing through them. Persevering through discomfort can often lead to your true artistic potential. Remember, the creative process thrives on vulnerability and openness. So, I encourage you to embrace this experience and see where it takes you.”
Mr Ajayi walks to the side, his gaze surveying the room of people in front of him. He folds his hands behind his back patiently. “That being said, if anyone is uncomfortable, you may leave now.”
Charlie and Elle glance around the room, noticing that others are doing the same. The atmosphere is thick with a mix of curiosity and apprehension as eyes meet, and after a few seconds, the swivelling heads come to a standstill in silent agreement. It’s as if a collective understanding has formed: they are all in this together, ready to face the challenge. Charlie feels a flicker of excitement mixed with nervousness; like Mr Ajayi said, this is a chance to step outside his comfort zone, and somehow, that shared moment of resolve makes it feel a little less daunting.
Besides, it’s just a naked body at the end of the day.
“Perfect,” Mr Ajayi grins. “Right, let’s all give a very warm welcome to our model today!”
As the applause echoes through the room, the door on the opposite wall opens, drawing everyone’s attention. A palpable sense of anticipation hangs in the air, with each person eager to see their newest muse. From around the corner, a man appears, dressed in nothing but a silk robe that’s tied loosely around his waist. He couldn't be much older than Charlie, but his presence commands the room. Charlie's eyes widen, his mouth suddenly dry, as he takes in the sight before him — a beautifully sculpted stranger.
Charlie’s gaze flickers rapidly, unsure of where to land first: the man’s sharp, chiselled jawline, or the glimpse of his torso beneath the robe. Charlie can feel his pulse quicken, his thoughts scrambling to keep pace with his eyes.
Focus, he thinks, but it’s easier said than done.
The stranger’s eyes, a deep honey brown, scour the room full of students before landing on Charlie. He thinks he’s officially gone crazy for a moment because it almost looks like the man’s eyes do a double take when their gazes meet.
“Everyone, this is Nick,” Mr Ajayi says. Nick offers a warm smile before extending it towards the room. “I want to give everyone a fresh reminder that while he’s the subject we will be painting, he is still very much human . Therefore we will treat him with the utmost respect. You all signed the ‘No Photography’ waivers at the beginning of this workshop, so while Nick gets ready, I’m going to pass a basket around to collect your phones. Afterwards, each of you can grab your canvases from the back.” As Mr Ajayi speaks, he hands the phone basket to Elle first.
Charlie is thankful for the distraction, however brief it may be, because he’s doing everything in his power to fight the building arousal in his gut.
This is an art class, Charlie! Not some fucking porno. Get it together, creep.
As Charlie walks back with his canvas in hand, he nearly drops it at the sight in front of him. The model, Nick, is now completely nude, seated on the podium with his legs crossed in a way that tastefully obscures his crotch. Leaning back, he supports the weight of his torso with his hands, presenting a striking tableau. Every inch of Nick’s skin is on display, accentuating the contours of his muscles and the delicate network of veins that run beneath the surface.
Every muscle seems perfectly defined, as though he’s stepped right out of a classical sculpture. The soft lighting enhances the ridges and valleys of his physique, casting shadows that only intensify the allure. Light brown freckles scatter across his cheeks and the edges of his shoulders, adding a touch of warmth to his complexion. A light dusting of golden chest hair catches the light, almost translucent in its glow, giving him an ethereal quality. There’s an undeniable confidence in his posture, a sense of ease that contrasts beautifully with the vulnerability of the moment.
The light hits his body perfectly, creating a dynamic interplay of shadow and highlight that Charlie can’t help but admire. Even though he knew the man was going to be naked, knowing it and seeing it are two different things.
Keep it together, he urges himself, glancing at the clock on the wall. Three hours remain in today’s session, and all he needs to do is get a rough sketch. Surely that’s an achievable goal. If he can just keep his hand steady enough…
As long as I don’t have to get up close and personal with this guy, I can survive this. I can do this! If Michaelangelo can paint penises and be professional about it, so can I.
He focuses on Nick’s form, the way the light plays across his skin, the elegance of his pose. With each breath, he steadies himself, reminding himself that art is about observation and interpretation, not judgement. The nervous energy begins to transform into determination as he picks up his pencil, ready to capture the moment.
As the class falls silent while beginning to sketch, Charlie’s gaze is like a ping pong ball, continuously bouncing back and forth between the canvas and Nick’s body. The outline of Nick’s body and pose is easy to draw but the moment he needs to pencil in details, Charlie’s gaze begins to stray further and further away from his canvas. His pencil marks are becoming more idle than deliberate as he focuses on the way Nick’s stomach flexes slightly every time he exhales. He notices the other man’s fingers twitch every now and then but besides that, Nick sits perfectly still.
By the time the end of the workshop approaches, Charlie’s a little more behind than he would like to admit. He’s managed to outline everything below Nick’s neck; the head however, is a simple circle. Charlie hasn’t been able to lock eyes with Nick once during the past three hours. Instead, he’s drawn a rather impressive sketch of Nick’s body for what’s supposed to be a ‘rough outline’.
So impressive, in fact, that Elle is grinning from ear to ear as she gives it a look over. “Charlie, this is brilliant! Seems like you have a great eye for detail,” she says with a knowing look. Charlie’s face feels like it’s caught fire as he fidgets with the tip of his pencil.
“N-Never too early to get a head start, y’know,” Charlie mumbles sheepishly.
“Oh, I’m sure you’re wanting to get a-head alright,” Elle’s eyes shimmer with amusement at the double entendre of her sentence.
Mortified, the only thing that comes to Charlie's mind is to shove her in response.
–
On Friday, Charlie arrives with a brand new sense of determination. Is Nick the hottest man Charlie has ever seen? Of course. Did the sight of his naked torso haunt Charlie’s every waking thought? Abso-fucking-lutely. But the break away from the workshop was the breath of fresh air he needed to remember that he’s taking this class to better his artistic abilities while also bonding with Elle. Not to thirst over the nude art model who’s just doing his job.
Now, it’s time for Charlie to do his.
Charlie’s drive to succeed is so overwhelming that he finds himself being the first person to arrive at the studio. When he tries to open the door, he learns he’s so early that the door is still locked.
Right, Charlie internally chides himself, this is a workshop hosted by a prestigious artist. He isn’t just going to lounge about, he’s got things to do and places to be.
He’s just about to walk back to his car when he hears the door open and his eyes land on Mr Ajayi.
“Charlie! Please, come in,” he smiles, extending his hand. Charlie bows his head sheepishly as he steps through the doorway.
“Thank you. Sorry, I know I’m extremely early today–” he begins to apologise but Mr Ajayi stops him.
“Never apologise for being excited to learn,” the older man reassures him as he walks towards the door. “I do have a small errand I need to take care of but please, feel free to make yourself comfortable while I’m out. The canvases are on the wired shelf where we left them on Monday. Just in case you want to set up early.”
“Oh, uhm, alright! Thank you,” Charlie says, feeling blown away by the fact that Mr Ajayi not only let him inside early, but he was also leaving Charlie alone in the studio. A sense of pride washes through him at the realisation that he has successfully come across as a trustworthy person.
“Of course,” Mr Ajayi smiles, waving before leaving Charlie alone. Charlie doesn’t waste a second making his way over to the cubbies where they put their personal belongings. He picks up a spare painting apron and ties it around his waist before rolling the sleeves of his grey jumper up. As he starts to shuffle through the canvases, a voice speaks out from behind him.
“Nathan, I just checked–”
“Ah!” Charlie cries out as he spins around rapidly, hand clutching his chest to keep his heart from bursting out. He tries to brace himself on the art stand but instead, the shelf shifts with surprising ease.
Instead of feeling the sharp pain of the falling canvases, his arm is jerked hard. His body lurches forward, his breath left behind as he collides with a solid chest. His feet give out beneath him and he grips onto the stranger’s biceps to steady himself. A loud clattering noise fills the room as the wired rack tumbles forward, spilling the rest of the canvases.
As silence settles, Charlie looks upwards slowly, starting from the centre of the stranger’s sternum, along his Adam's apple, and landing on his honey-brown eyes. It isn’t a stranger who’s holding Charlie at all. It’s Nick.
“I am so sorry,” the taller man says breathlessly. “Are you alright? Are you hurt?”
“Wh- I, u-uh,” Charlie sputters out, his entire body in a state of shock but not because of the falling paintings. Because of how fucking amazing it felt to be held in Nick’s arms. “Y-Yeah, yes, yep! All good,” he manages to finish.
“I didn’t mean to startle you like that,” Nick laughs, the sound causing his chest to vibrate. He helps Charlie come to a proper stand before walking over to the rack and setting it upright. “I’m just glad you didn’t get trampled by these,” he continues as he begins to pick up canvases.
Charlie, still reeling from the fact that his chest was pressed flush against Nick’s chest, snaps back to reality at the sight of Nick kneeling. He quickly rushes over, squatting down and grabbing canvases too. “Honestly, I’m just glad there’s only 16 people in this workshop. Otherwise, this would be a much bigger mess,” he says, trying to lighten the mood. Nick chuckles at that, amusement gleaming in his eyes as they meet Charlie’s.
Fuck, why did it take me so long to look into his eyes? Charlie swoons inwardly. Now that I’ve seen them, I don’t want to look away…
“That’s an optimistic way of putting it,” Nick responds with amusement. Charlie tries not to preen at the compliment, breaking eye contact bashfully.
“I think that’s the first time anyone’s called me optimistic,” Charlie snorts. “Do you mind saying that in front of my friend Elle sometime?”
The smile that graces Nick’s face is breathtaking, a radiant arc that seems to illuminate the very room. In that moment, Charlie feels as though time itself has paused, allowing him to truly absorb the beauty before him. It’s not just a smile; it’s a work of art, imbued with warmth and a spark of mischief that draws Charlie in like a moth to a flame. For the first time in his life, he understands why some artists choose to capture the essence of a person rather than the world around them.
Every curve and line of Nick’s smile tells a story — one of joy, vulnerability, and an unspoken connection that resonates deep within Charlie’s soul. It’s a sight that Charlie could easily paint for the rest of his life if he were ever given the privilege.
Quit being so sappy, Spring.
“I feel it’d only be right to help you out considering I almost buried you alive in paintings of me.” Nick nods, the radiant smile turning into a coy one. “I don’t think I’ve properly learnt your name, by the way,” he says as they finish putting the canvases back.
“Well, for future reference, you can always just ask someone their name instead of knocking canvases onto them,” Charlie grins with a wink. Nick’s cheeks turn a dusty pink as he laughs nervously, tucking his hands into his trouser pockets. “And my name is–”
“Charlie!” Elle’s voice interrupts him, prompting him to nearly jump out of his skin. He turns around just in time to catch Elle as she hugs him. “Oh, you’re Nick, right?” she asks, as if suddenly realising Nick is standing right there. Nick nods, offering his hand to shake.
“Yeah, and you must be… Elle?” Nick asks, his eyes meeting Charlie’s inquisitively. Charlie nods in brief confirmation before focusing back on Elle.
“I am,” she smiles, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she looks between the two men. “You know,’ she starts, patting her pockets. “I think I left my phone outside… I should go get that,” she points behind her. “I’ll be right back.”
Elle, subtle as ever, shoots Charlie a dramatic wink before exiting the room once again. He looks back at Nick once they hear the door close, unsure of whether or not he wanted the floor to swallow him whole. Biting his lip nervously, Charlie awkwardly scooches past Nick so he can grab his canvas.
“I should probably set up,” Charlie says softly, unsure of what else to say.
I have plenty I could say, however none of it’s professional, he scolds himself.
“Yeah, of course, me too,” Nick nods.
“Also, thanks for saving me from death by art,” he adds. “I’ll see you in a bit?”
“Yeah, see you in a bit,” the other confirms, waving his hand slightly.
By the time Elle comes back inside, Charlie’s setting up his paint station and Nick is nowhere to be seen. She doesn’t press the issue at all while setting up her own station but she does give Charlie a look that says she wants all of the details once they leave.
–
The remaining three weeks of Mr Ajayi’s workshop feel like a whirlwind — both never-ending and, at the same time, over far too soon. Even now, as he admires his finished canvas that’s hanging in the exhibition, he feels a pang of sadness that it’s over.
Are you sad it’s over, Charlie? Or are you sad you’ll never see Nick again?
He sulks at the question, selfishly knowing the answer is the latter. He sips on the glass of Champagne he was handed by one of the wandering waiters, his nose scrunching at the bitter tasting bubbles. After their encounter at the canvas rack, Charlie began turning up earlier to each workshop, keen to make the most of every opportunity before and after the session to chat with Nick. And when they weren’t talking, they were staring at one another. Charlie’s reason for staring was clear — he had to paint Nick. What puzzled him, though, was why Nick was staring back.
While the answer may seem obvious, Charlie refuses to give himself that kind of hope. Allowing himself to believe that Nick might be interested feels too dangerous, too risky. Nick is so far out of Charlie’s league that even entertaining the possibility would be setting himself up for heartache. After all, people like Nick don’t fall for people like Charlie — or so he tells himself.
To keep his growing crush in check, Charlie clings to the facts, grounding himself in cold, hard reality. For starters, if Nick fancied him, surely he would’ve asked for his number by now. The workshops had provided plenty of opportunities, and yet, Nick never made a move. It was safer for Charlie to assume it was nothing more than coincidence — the lingering glances, the subtle smiles. Anything else would be foolish optimism, and Charlie wasn’t ready for that kind of disappointment.
“Why the long face on the night of your celebration?” a warm voice asks from beside him, breaking Charlie’s spiralling train of thought.
Charlie turns, his startled eyes landing on Mr Ajayi. A wave of embarrassment crashes into him. The older man doesn’t seem upset though, and his lips twist into a genuine smile. He’s wearing a striking suit that’s a vibrant shade of red, his jewellery a warm tone of gold that compliments his outfit perfectly.
“Mr Ajayi!” Charlie gasps, straightening his posture up. “S-Sorry, I was just, er, lost in thought.”
“Charlie, please, you can call me Nathan. I’ve been telling you that since the beginning of the workshop,” he chuckles, taking a casual sip from his glass. His easygoing smile and gentle tone only makes Charlie feel more flustered. The formality of addressing him as 'Mr Ajayi' had been a comfortable shield, one that Charlie clung to out of respect and maybe even a little intimidation.
Charlie shuffles on his feet, feeling a wave of warmth spread across his face. He bows his head slightly, hoping to hide the flustered blush creeping up his cheeks. The workshop instructor's relaxed familiarity always caught him off guard — how Nathan could so effortlessly make him feel seen yet terribly self-conscious at the same time. He’s the polar opposite of how someone would expect a famous artist to act.
“Right… sorry, Nathan, ” Charlie mutters, his voice barely audible as he takes a quick sip of his drink, hoping the cool liquid will somehow extinguish the nerves rising in his chest. “How’s your evening going?”
“Oh, it’s been lovely,” Nathan nods, his head on a swivel as he observes the room. “This is a magnificent turn out for opening night,” he says, beaming with pride. “You and your friend Elle should be proud of yourselves, along with everyone else.”
Charlie nods, pulling himself out of the moment and turning his attention back to the painting framed in front of them. The image of Nick, captured in the brushstrokes before him, feels both intimate and distant — every stroke carefully crafted to mirror the contours of Nick’s face, the light in his eyes, the curve of his lips. Yet, despite how familiar the painting has become, Charlie finds himself staring at it like it’s the first time he’s really seeing it.
A strange mix of pride and hesitation washes over him. It’s the best work he’s ever done, but there’s a vulnerability in it too — a glimpse of the feelings he’s been trying so hard to suppress. Each layer of paint feels like an unspoken truth, and Charlie wonders if anyone, especially Nick, will notice.
“Yeah,” Charlie responds, chewing the inside of his cheek. “Honestly, Elle is a wickedly talented artist. She’s getting ready to go to an art school next year.”
“Oh, good for her! And yourself?” the older man asks, looking back at Charlie. “You have incredible talent, surely there’s an art school in your future.”
“Honestly, I just took the class to spend time with her before she leaves,” Charlie admits. “I didn’t even know I could paint like this until I did it,” he adds, waving towards his painting.
“Something I’ve learned over the years is that the brightest of gems are found when we're not digging for treasure,” Nathan replies, his voice soft but assured. “And before you downplay your incredible art, I’d like to point out that your painting holds something none of the others do.”
Charlie blinks, his heart skipping a beat. The compliment feels too large to grasp, too generous. “W-What?” he stammers, his eyes darting back to the painting in front of him, scanning it with fresh urgency. What was Nathan seeing that he couldn’t? Surely, he wasn’t referring to the same canvas — Charlie’s work, while decent, felt far from remarkable.
Nathan watches him with a knowing smile, one that suggests he’s already guessed Charlie’s inner turmoil. He steps closer to the painting, his presence steady and calm, as if trying to help Charlie see beyond the surface. “You managed to capture Nick’s gaze,” Nathan says, his tone more contemplative now. He pauses, as if carefully choosing his words. “It’s more than just a likeness — it’s as though you’ve captured something deeper, something that speaks beyond the paint. You’ve caught his essence, the emotion beneath his expression.”
Charlie’s breath hitches as his eyes flicker to the portrait once more. He’s painted Nick’s features a hundred times in his mind — obsessing over every line, every shadow — but this time, looking at it through Nathan’s words, it feels different. There, in Nick’s eyes, is a depth Charlie hadn’t realised he’d conveyed. A flicker of curiosity. Perhaps longing. It’s subtle, almost imperceptible, but undeniably present.
“I didn’t... I mean, I wasn’t trying to…” Charlie begins, trailing off, unsure how to explain. How could he tell Nathan that he had been avoiding looking too deeply at what he had created? That the feelings behind the art were too raw, too personal?
“Sometimes,” Nathan continues, his voice gentle, “we’re not aware of what we’re really painting until someone else points it out.” He meets Charlie’s eyes, offering a quiet smile. “But it’s there, all the same. Everyone else’s painting has Nick’s likeness, almost a perfect carbon copy of the pose he provided,” Nathan continues, his eyes drifting over the rows of canvases displayed around the room. “The technique is impressive, sure. But there’s something... missing.”
Charlie frowns, still unsure where Nathan is going with this.
“The one thing I’ve noticed,” Nathan adds, his voice quieter now, drawing Charlie’s full attention, “is that in everyone’s painting, Nick’s eyes are always... elsewhere. Shifted slightly, as if he’s looking off in the distance. Almost like he’s disconnected from the moment. Detached.” Nathan gestures subtly toward a nearby canvas, where Nick’s expression is pristine but distant, his gaze vacant, unfocused. “It’s technically accurate, but it lacks life.”
Charlie glances around at the other portraits, noticing for the first time what Nathan means. In each one, Nick looks as though he’s staring at something just beyond the frame, his expression polished but impersonal, like a statue frozen in time.
Nathan steps closer to Charlie’s painting. “That is, everyone’s but yours.”
Charlie feels his pulse quicken, his eyes snapping back to his own work. The familiar surge of uncertainty washes over him. “What do you mean?” he asks, still hesitant to believe what Nathan is implying.
“In your painting,” Nathan says, his voice warm and certain, “Nick isn’t just posing. He’s present. His eyes aren’t drifting off somewhere — they’re engaged, focused, as if he’s looking at someone who matters. You’ve captured a moment of connection, something intimate, something real.”
Charlie swallows hard, his gaze flickering back to Nick’s painted eyes. There is, undeniably, something different there — an intensity, a quiet vulnerability that he hadn’t fully understood while working on the piece. It’s as if Nick isn’t just a subject in Charlie’s painting; he’s seeing Charlie, too.
“You didn’t just paint him,” Nathan continues, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. “You captured a part of him that no one else has managed to find. Not only is that a rare talent, but it’s also the epitome of art — something that life often imitates.” He finishes with a playful wink, leaving a lingering sense of intrigue in the air.
Charlie’s heart races at the implication of Nathan’s words. Is he hinting at what I think he’s hinting at...?
The room buzzes with the low hum of chatter, but all Charlie can focus on is Nathan's gaze, which seems to pierce right through him. He can't shake the feeling that Nathan sees something deeper — an understanding of the connection Charlie felt while painting. Was it merely an artistic admiration, or was there something more profound, something that hinted at a shared experience?
The idea sends a rush of warmth through him. Could art truly serve as a bridge to something more personal? Nathan’s words echo in his mind, making him question the boundaries between art and life, between the artist and the subject. It’s as if Nathan has unlocked a door to a realm where creativity and human connection intertwine, urging Charlie to explore not just his artistic potential, but also the emotions simmering just beneath the surface.
“Right…” Charlie says absentmindedly, his index finger tracing the stem of his glass.
As the night continues on, Charlie finds himself sitting outside on a bench, the only source of light being the street lamp next to it. He’d seen Elle at one point after his conversation with Nathan, but her attention was quickly scooped up by different artists and people who had questions for her. And if he’s being completely honest with himself, the only person he has been wanting to see hasn’t shown up at all.
Charlie loosens the tie around his neck, feeling stuffy and itching to go home so he can finally shed the confines of his suit. The exhibit is open for another hour, which perfectly aligns with how much time he has left before his social battery officially runs out. He glances around, weighing the potential consequences of leaving early. Would anyone notice? Would it seem rude? The thought lingers, mingling with his growing discomfort.
Just as he’s lost in his deliberation, echoing footsteps approach from behind him. His heart quickens as he turns slightly, half-expecting to see one of the other guests or perhaps even Elle finally finding her way outside. Instead, he’s met with a familiar face — Nick, looking effortlessly striking even in casual attire.
Though I much prefer him undressed…
“Hi,” Nick says, his voice warm and inviting, cutting through Charlie's thoughts. “I’ve been looking for you.”
“Oh?” Charlie replies, a sheepish smile creeping onto his face. “I would say I’ve been looking for you but technically, I’ve been staring at you all night. Y’know, with the paintings and everything.”
“Is that supposed to be a pick-up line?” Nick asks, amusement and a hint of something else twinkling in his eyes.
Normally, this would be the moment when Charlie would backpedal, mumbling an excuse and telling Nick no, insisting it was just a poor attempt at a joke. But as they sit there, he finds himself hesitating. Unsure whether his newfound sense of bravery is stemming from his earlier conversation with Nathan, or the four glasses of Champagne he’s had, Charlie decides against retreating.
Instead, he meets Nick's gaze with an unexpected confidence. The alcohol has loosened his inhibitions, but there’s also something more — an urge to break free from his usual reservations. He feels a thrill at the idea of stepping outside of his comfort zone, of embracing spontaneity for once.
“That depends, is it working?” Charlie finds himself asking, his voice steadier than he expected. The words tumble out, bold and unfiltered. The flicker of surprise in Nick's eyes ignites a spark of exhilaration in Charlie as the other walks over to the bench and sits down next to him.
“Honestly, I think so,” Nick grins, his smile infectious. “I can’t say I’ve heard that one before, but then again, I’ve never been the subject of an art exhibit either.”
The two men share a light laugh, their knees bumping against one another’s in a playful moment that feels electric. Charlie can’t help but feel a rush of warmth spread through him, the initial awkwardness fading as they connect. His heart pounds in his chest, so loudly that he’s convinced Nick might hear it, a steady thrum that mirrors the excitement coursing through him.
Feeling emboldened, Charlie leans in slightly, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Well, if you’re ever up for it again, I think you make a fantastic muse,” he replies, his voice teasing but genuine. Nick’s eyes light up at Charlie’s offer and he grins widely.
“I think that can be arranged,” Nick says thoughtfully, “However, I’ll only do it under one condition.”
Intrigued, Charlie leans closer. “Oh? What’s that?”
“Nathan recently gifted me two all-inclusive tickets for the Royal Academy as a ‘thank you’ for helping with his workshop. While it’s a lovely gift, I would hate to go all by myself when I have an extra ticket...”
Charlie’s eyebrows shoot upwards as the sudden realisation of what Nick’s asking hits him. There’s no way! Is this really happening right now? His heart races at the thought. There’s no way he’s asking me on a —
“So I was wondering if maybe you’d like to accompany me,” Nick asks softly, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. “I was thinking it could be a date?”
A rush of warmth floods Charlie’s cheeks, and he feels an exhilarating mix of shock and delight. Charlie opens his mouth to respond, but no words come out at first; he’s momentarily speechless. He quickly gathers his thoughts, the possibility of something beautiful blooming between them feeling tangible and real.
“I-I’d love that!” he finally manages, a broad smile breaking across his face. “I can’t think of a better way to spend an evening.”
Nick’s shoulders relax, any tension he was holding sliding right off of them. “Good,” he says, mirroring Charlie’s smile. “Here, let me give you my number and that way we can set up a proper time.”
He pulls out his phone, the screen illuminating his face under the dim street lamp. A sense of giddiness washes over Charlie as he watches Nick type in his number, the casualness of the gesture making it feel all the more real.
“Got it?” Nick asks, looking up with an expectant grin. Charlie nods, trying to suppress his enthusiasm as he inputs the number into his own phone, fingers trembling slightly. The simple act feels monumental, as if they’re sealing the deal on an adventure yet to come.
“Perfect! I can’t wait,” Nick adds, his eyes shining with anticipation. There’s a playful energy in the air, a sense that this is just the beginning of something exciting. A silence falls on them and while it’s not uncomfortable, Charlie is positively vibrating with the urge to get to know Nick better.
“So,” Charlie exhales slowly. “We could go back inside and continue to look at shirtless paintings of you for the remaining hour… or…”
“Or?” Nick prompts, a mischievous smile gracing his lips.
“There’s a quiet little place around the corner that sells fish and chips?” he offers.
“Oh, well that’s a no-brainer,” the other man snorts. “Obviously I want to stare at myself shirtless for an hour instead of sharing some fish and chips with the most attractive man I’ve ever met,” he replies playfully. “I would love to get something to eat right now.”
Charlie can’t help but laugh. “I mean, it’s a tough choice,” he replies, his voice light. “But right now, I’m pretty sure fish and chips would be far more satisfying.”
Nick’s laughter fills the air, warm and inviting. “I would love to get something to eat right now,” he admits, the enthusiasm in his voice making Charlie’s heart soar. He stands up, extending his hand for Charlie to take. “Lead the way?”
Charlie stands up, taking Nick’s hand and enjoying the explosion of fireworks and electricity that shoots up his arm from the touch. A door to their left opens and both men look behind them, seeing small groups of people exit. As they watch the people walk past windows, it gives both Nick and Charlie a glimpse of the still rather large crowd that’s inside the exhibit.
Hmm, do I go back to the large crowd of swarming people or have fish and chips on the corner with Nick?
He feels Nick’s fingers intertwine with his own and just that small gesture alone is all the reassurance Charlie needs to know this is definitely the right choice. Charlie gives Nick’s hand a squeeze and nods.
Walking side by side, Charlie steals glances at Nick, who seems to glow with excitement. They chat and laugh, each moment punctuated by the thrill of discovery — not just of the food they’re about to enjoy, but of each other.
When they reach the fish and chips shop, the aroma wafts through the air, enticing and familiar. They settle into a cosy corner, their plates piled high with crispy battered fish and golden chips. The warmth of the food matches the warmth blooming in Charlie’s chest, a feeling that goes beyond mere attraction; it’s a connection he’s never quite experienced before.
As they share bites and stories, the conversation flows effortlessly, their laughter mingling with the sounds of the bustling shop. Time seems to slip away, and Charlie finds himself lost in Nick’s eyes, the world outside fading into the background.
The night stretches on, filled with spontaneous moments and shared glances, and Charlie knows that this is just the beginning. With every shared laugh, every lingering touch, he feels a sense of belonging he hadn’t anticipated.
As they leave the shop, the stars begin to twinkle overhead, and Charlie realises that the real masterpiece of the evening isn’t the art he left behind at the exhibition, but the connection he’s begun to create with Nick.