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"Char, you're...you're incredibly drunk."
But Nick wasn't. In that moment, Charlie was disappointed that the only obvious thing preventing him and Nick from having sex (for the first time!) was their vastly differing levels of inebriation. But, being intoxicated meant Charlie had less control over his tongue...less of a filter...and an increased likelihood of saying whatever it was that was on his mind. As he contemplated what he would say next, Charlie felt the pool of heat in his abdomen dissipate, instead replaced by a sinking feeling in his stomach.
Charlie replied, "But when I'm sober, I'm scared that you might just... that you'll look at me and..."
Nick was taken aback by Charlie's sudden change in body language. Just a few moments prior, Charlie was looking at him like he was a meal, the size of his pupils swallowing the deep blues of his eyes. A look of pure want that he had never seen from his boyfriend before.
But now, there was a cloud of insecurity, one that Nick was a bit more familiar with. Charlie could barely look at him as he confessed his fears, or at least as he began confessing them.
"That you'll look at me and think...I'm disgusting."
Nick wasn't sure what he'd been expecting Charlie to say, but it certainly wasn't that. He figured that Charlie would talk about how in his sober state, he just wasn't ready to have sex yet, or how he's scared of the enormity of it all. Nick sure was. But once he registered what Charlie had said, he realized he had to stop this before it got worse, but found himself at a loss for words. All he could manage was--
"Char..."
Charlie felt all his emotions rising to the surface, now that he'd opened up the self-deprecation spiral. To distract himself, he began to tamper with the hem of Nick's jumper, making it easier for him to get the words out. He continued, "You'll probably think i'm disgusting because I'm skinny and have scars. Like at least when we have clothes on, you can pretend that I'm...I'm someone worth wanting."
Nick's heart was being torn to pieces with every sentence Charlie spoke. He couldn't bear to let it go on any longer. "Charlie no, stop that." He brought his hands up to Charlie's cheeks and hoped that that he could somehow convince the beautiful, curly-haired boy in front of him that he, just as he was, was all Nick could ever want. He begged, "Please, look at me."
Charlie hesitated, but hearing the desperation in Nick's voice drove him to make eye contact. Immediately, he regretted it as tears clouded his vision, obstructing his view of his beautiful rosy-cheeked boyfriend. He willed for the tears to stop, but once the image of a heartbroken Nick in front of him became clearer, Charlie was overwhelmed by guilt.
"I'm sorry, Nick," he said in a broken voice. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm--"
"Charlie, it's okay, you're okay, just, hold on..."
Charlie felt delirious at this point. He quit fiddling with the jumper and moved his hands up to his boyfriend's wrists. Nick's hands continued to warm his cheeks, and as he reveled in the sensation, Charlie remembered how much he craved this closeness. What he had been feeling before he admitted his deepest fears. He turned his head so he could kiss Nick's hands, hoping to distract him from the weight of his confession, to keep him from running away. Hoping that he could somehow recover from this, get them upstairs, and...
"Nick," he breathed. "Right now, all I want is you, and I don't care about how I look, but that's all gonna go away in the morning, so we can just go upstairs..."
Silence fell between them. Charlie felt himself suffocating with it.
A few moments later, Nick asked sternly, "Charlie, can we move to the couch?"
Charlie couldn't tell if the tone that his boyfriend adopted was scolding or commanding. If it was one of admonishment or of someone who was taking charge. Charlie sincerely hoped it was the latter.
Charlie let himself be led, as Nick held him steady with one hand on his arm and the other wrapped around his waist. He could certainly get used to this.
As they got to the couch, Nick stiffened, suddenly very conscious of his body language towards Charlie. He didn't want to give him any wrong ideas or upset him in anyway. He needed to choose his next words very carefully.
"Charlie," he said, firmly holding on to his boyfriend's hands. "I love you. I love you so much, and I would do anything for you, but we both know that we can't do this right now. I know it's something you think you want, but it's not. And even if it was, I could not in good conscience give that to you, no matter how much I want to. You don't have the ability to make that decision right now." He contemplated for a moment. "Do you remember what you said to me in Paris?"
Snarkily, Charlie replied, "I said a lot of things to you in Paris."
"You said, if I never wanted to do anything more, you wouldn't want to either. If, when you're sober, you decide you never want to have sex, that's okay. I wouldn't want to either. Anyway, what I'm about to tell you right now, I'm gonna tell you again in the morning just so you remember it. Charlie Spring, you are beautiful. Your hair, your eyes, your hands...and everything I haven't seen. I know it's beautiful because it's you. I like you, I want you."
"Nick, you don't have to--"
"And...having scars, having a body, doesn't make you disgusting. I'm sorry if I don't tell you enough, but you are... everything, every part of you. Selfishly, I want and I hope I get to see all of it, and I hope it's something we get to share together, but it's also okay if we don't, it's okay if it's difficult, I'm with you every step of the way. Please, Charlie, please believe me."
Charlie knew that Nick was being truthful. In fact, the boy was so earnest, that you could see it spilling out of him. It was impossible for him not to be, and all Charlie wanted to do in that moment was reassure him. He would believe anything Nick said.
"Nick," Charlie breathed, releasing his hands from Nick's grip in order to cup his cheeks. "I believe you."
His gesture immediately brought Nick back in time to almost a year prior, to when he begged Charlie not to break up with him. When he desperately tried to convince Charlie that he made his life infinitely better, rather than worse. When Nick was so scared of losing himself as soon as he discovered himself, truly and fully.
Charlie remembered it, too. The way Nick's eyes shook with tears, the way his lips quivered as he bit back emotion. They had come so far since then, gone through so many obstacles, but survived it. Together.
This time, Nick turned his head to kiss Charlie's hands, but rather than in a frantically desperate manner to keep him from slipping away, as Charlie had just done, it was in a soothing, calming manner. Nick knew he wasn't going anywhere.
Nick smiled softly, feeling love-drunk, even though he'd sobered up several hours prior. Charlie was falling in love all over again, the dazed expression on Nick's face intensifying a crush that never faded. Now, Charlie couldn't imagine being any closer than they were right now, wanting to spend the rest of the night asleep in his boyfriend's arms.
As if he read his mind, Nick stood up, offering his hand to Charlie. "Now, let's get to bed then, shall we?"