Chapter Text
A year ago, Charlie’s world felt as if it had shattered.
It had been a full six months of screaming matches that concerned the neighbors, sweet words whispered in the dark after they fought, and promises that never failed to be broken. Six months of on-again, off-again conditional ‘love’ until Charlie finally got the courage to leave for good.
What hurt the most wasn’t the ending, it was the realization that he spent half a year trying to justify Ben’s behaviors. It was the embarrassment he felt as he remembered the way he defended him to his friends when they begged him to leave, and the fact that he loved him despite the venom he spat at him. He hated that he had been so blinded by his manipulation that it took him this long to finally see past his rose-tinted glasses.
When he ended things and left Ben’s flat, he walked all the way home in the dark, the warm June wind dried the tears that clung to his cheeks. Instead of entering the off-campus house he rented with his best friends, he sat in the dark on the steps leading up to the front porch, not wanting them to see him like this; folded in on himself, hollowed out, numb.
But Nick found him anyway.
The porch light flicked on as the front door opened. Charlie looked back to see Nick peaking his head out, his face falling once he noticed the state Charlie was in.
“Charlie?” He shut the door softly and walked over to him, sitting down next to him. He was in his pajamas, plaid pants, and a white tee shirt. He looked soft and comfortable. Like home.
“How’d you know I was out here?” Charlie sniffled, looking at Nick with tear-filled eyes.
Nick put an arm around him and pulled him close, letting him hide his face in his neck. Nick rested his chin atop his head. “Best friend instincts,”
Charlie was quiet for a few moments before he said. “Ben and I broke up… for good this time. I just couldn’t do it anymore.”
He felt Nick nod. “You don’t have to talk about it right now. Let’s get you to bed, and we’ll discuss it in the morning. I’ll be there to listen.”
And he was. He was there every single day with whispered reassurance and warm cups of tea.
In the weeks that followed, it was Nick who left sticky notes on his laptop that read ‘don’t overwork yourself and remember to eat, if you can’. It was Nick who pulled him out of bed and dragged him to the sitting room to watch movies with their friends. It was Nick who never left his side, making him laugh even when the ache felt as if it hollowed him out from the inside.
He was safe. Solid. One of the only constants in the year that blurred and twisted and rebuilt Charlie from scratch.
Now, twelve months later, it was the summer going into their last year of university, and Charlie was okay. He was good, actually.
His nightmares were few and far between, and his heart rate didn’t spike every time he saw Ben around campus anymore. He smiled more. Laughed more. He felt like himself again.
Things were back to normal… until they weren’t.
Sometime between then and now, something between Nick and Charlie had shifted.
They were still best friends, obviously. Still each other’s emergency contacts, still the friends who could have a whole conversation with just one look, still the same people who met on the first day of university, instantly drawn to one another.
But, something different now hummed beneath the surface. Something new. Something dangerous.
He wasn’t sure when exactly it happened, but he slowly began noticing little things here and there.
He noticed the way Nick looked at him sometimes, with a look in his eyes Charlie couldn’t place.
He noticed the way their hugs would last just a beat too long.
He noticed the way their friends—Tao, Elle, Tara, and Darcy— just wouldn’t let it go.
“God, just kiss already!” Darcy had joked last week at brunch.
Charlie laughed it off. Like he always did. But lately, the jokes began to sting.
Tara would send screenshots from various romantic comedies, captioned, Nick and Charlie. Elle once jokingly photoshopped a wedding invite for the two of them. Even Charlie's own sister once asked, “Are you and Nick…?”
Charlie said no. Because they weren’t.
Nick pretended he didn’t hear the jokes, or he laughed them off and moved on. But Charlie didn’t miss the way his cheeks turned a faint pink as he quickly glanced in the opposite direction.
Charlie tried not to think about it too much, about what it would be like to let himself want again. To fall. To hope. And that was the problem. Hope was dangerous, wanting was worse.
Because last time, it left him with a shattered heart. Last time it left him hurt in a way he’d never felt before. Last time, he thought love was something tangible, real, something he was capable of having.
This time, he knew better. That’s why he ignored it. Any wants that began creeping up in his chest, he pushed down, folding them neatly in a little box and kept them far away from him. Nick was too important to lose, and his selfish, dangerous feelings weren't worth it.
At least, that was what he told himself when Nick would rest his chin on Charlie’s shoulder as they looked at something on his phone. Or when Nick let him borrow his sweatshirt on those unusually chilly summer nights. Or on those mornings when he woke up, mind clouded with dreams that were full of warmth and softness, he wasn’t able to pinpoint what they were about exactly, but Nick’s name was always the only thing left in his head when the edges of sleep faded.
He told himself, whatever this was, was enough.
______
The bonfire was already crackling when Charlie stepped outside into the back garden, the sky painted a range of reds and oranges as the sun set behind the trees. Since they were broke uni students, they set out blankets on the ground around the fire instead of camping chairs. Tao and Elle were cuddling on one, Tara on the one to their left, laughing as she watched Darcy dance around the fire, using their marshmallow on a stick as a microphone, and Nick on the third one, concentrating as he held his marshmallow alarmingly close to the fire.
Charlie dropped down to sit next to Nick, knowingly leaving the spot next to Tara for Dacry.
“There you are,” Nick turned away from the fire to smile at him. The flames reflected on his pale skin, giving him a warm glow. “I was wondering when you were going to join us.”
“Sorry, I was finishing up a chapter of my book,” Charlie said, eyeing the way Nick’s eyes didn’t leave Charlie, causing his ignored marshmallow to engulf in flames. “Uh, Nick?” Charlie giggled as he gestured at the charred marshmallow.
Nick hummed in confusion and tilted his head, like the golden retriever he was, and continued looking at Charlie until he finally caught up with what was happening. He gasped and quickly removed it from the fire, desperately blowing on it to diminish the flames as Charlie laughed unhelpfully next to him.
“Ah, Nick and Charlie flirting again,” Darcy’s teasing voice broke through his laughter. “Fork found in kitchen.”
Nick continued his attempt to salvage his marshmallow as Charlie blushed next to him. “Oi, quit it,”
Charlie laughed it off in the moment, but deep down, he hated it. The jokes. Not because they weren’t funny, but because they didn’t quite feel harmless anymore. Recently, the words landed differently. Like something heavy.
Nick ignored the joke, if he even heard it to begin with, and bumped their shoulders together as he handed him a skewer.
“Thanks,” he said quietly, then he focused on impaling the sugar like it was a personal mission.
As Charlie held it over the fire, he felt his too-big jumper slip down his shoulder, exposing his skin to the chill summer air. He ignored it… until he couldn’t, when Nick wordlessly pulled it back up, his calloused fingers brushing against his neck as he did so.
Charlie’s whole body tensed. The world didn’t stop, but for a moment, it felt like it did.
Nick noticed. Charlie could tell he did. But he didn’t say anything, he just leaned back like nothing happened. And Charlie panicked.
“Don’t get any ideas,” He blurted without thinking. “You’re not my type, too many freckles.” He said it with what he hoped was a light, teasing tone, but he knew it came out strained.
Nick’s smile faltered. Only for a beat, unnoticeable if anyone were to see it other than Charlie Spring. Because, whether he liked it or not, he could read Nick like a book. And he knew when Nick laughed it off and said, “Right, of course,” it sounded forced and far away.
He wished he could rewind and pull the words back down his throat. But it was too late to take it back, so he pretended like everything was fine and hoped no one noticed the way his hands shook.
______
Movie nights were supposed to be easy. Predictable. That was until every interaction with Nick began to feel like a trap he was willingly walking into.
They all withdrew from their rooms, gathering in the living room with blankets and snacks. Tao had picked the movie again, some artsy, indie film that none of them cared much about but sat through because they loved their friend. The six of them crammed on their single couch, not nearly enough space for a six-person household, but again, they were broke uni students, so they made it work.
Nick huddled under Charlie’s blanket, their legs tangled together underneath. This was normal for them during movie nights, but as of recently, their air hummed between them, like an unspoken secret that Charlie couldn't decode.
Somewhere between the first and second act, Nick’s head dropped to Charlie’s shoulder.
Charlie didn’t move.
Not when he let out a long exhale, warm against the side of his neck. Not when Nick’s arm subconsciously tucked around his abdomen as he slept. He did his best to relax against the warmth of his body, trying not to breathe too loudly.
Time blurred, and eventually the end credits rolled and the movie ended, and Charlie stared at the black screen.
Nick still didn’t stir as the rest of their friends said their goodnight’s and retreated to their rooms with knowing giggles, and Charlie accepted his fate of sleeping right here.
It should have been fine, it should have been funny, just a tired friend who accidentally glued Charlie to the sofa. But it wasn’t funny, and it wasn’t fine. No, not really.
On the other side of the wall, in Tao and Elle’s room, he could hear them talking.
“They act more like a couple than we do,” Elles’ muffled voice said.
“I know,” Tao responded. “They need to get their act together already, it’s ridiculous, honestly.”
He heard Elle laugh in agreement, then he was plunged back into silence. Leaving him alone with the weight of Nick against his body and the overwhelming thoughts rushing through his head.
Charlie woke the next morning on the couch, the sun slicing through the curtains, his head still tilted against Nick’s shoulder. His hand had drifted near Nick’s chest.
Nick was already awake.
He didn’t say anything at first—just looked at Charlie with something unreadable in his eyes. Then he smiled. “Morning.”
Charlie mumbled back, his heart doing strange things as he sat up too fast. The blanket slipped to the floor. His skin prickled with awareness, and he suddenly didn’t know what to do with his hands.
Nick stretched like nothing was wrong. Like this was just another morning.
It wasn’t.
The air between them felt… too careful. Like they were both trying not to acknowledge a moment neither had the words for.
He told himself it was nothing. It had to be nothing. Because if it wasn’t, then what?
He didn’t know who he was without Nick. Didn’t know what he’d do if everything shifted too far, too fast.
So, told himself—again and again and again—
It had to be nothing.
______
Charlie’s texts began to get a lot shorter.
Not in an obvious way— he still answered, still responded to the stupid memes Nick would send him. But something was missing; gaps between messages, a space between moments. Nick noticed it, it would be impossible not to, but he didn’t mention it.
And Charlie… he was terrified.
He didn’t want to feel like this, but every time he gave him one of those soft smiles or put a hand on the small of his back to get around him in the kitchen, he felt himself shrinking back.
Things were shifting, he felt it, like the ground beneath was no longer steady.
His friends began to notice the distinction as well.
“Dude,” Darcy had poked their head into Charlie’s room one night after Charlie opted out of their weekly sit-down dinner together in favor of bringing his food to his room. “You okay?”
Charlie forced a smile. “Yeah, I’m good!”
They raised an eyebrow. “Y’know, if you just kissed him, it would solve all this weird tension.”
Charlie squawked and threw a pillow at the closing door, Darcy cackling from the other side.
Elle didn’t help either. Every time Nick and Charlie sat next together, she would stage whisper, “Just say you’re in love already,”. It was becoming a running joke that everyone thought was funny except him.
Sometimes Tara would swoon for dramatic effect, Nick would just laugh awkwardly and roll his eyes. But it made Charlie want to crawl out of his skin. He used to find it funny, but he didn’t anymore.
And maybe because deep down he knew, the jokes really weren’t that far off.