Chapter Text
The text came through at 4:32 PM, accompanied by three consecutive skull emojis.
I think my fingers are actually going to fuse together and fall off. Please tell me you’re close.
Nick smiled at his phone, his thumb flying across the screen as he navigated the crowded pavement outside the basement venue.
Just parked! Walking up now. You’re going to be amazing, Char. I’ve got your favorite milkshake.
When Nick slipped through the stage door—having been granted an all-access pass by a fiercely protective Tori Spring—the backstage area was a chaotic blur of guitar cables, half-empty energy drinks, and nervous energy. Charlie was tucked into a corner, his knees pulled up to his chest on a battered vinyl sofa, aggressively drumming his sticks against his kneecaps. His curls were beautifully wild, defying the styling gel someone had clearly tried to tame them with."Hey," Nick said softly, stepping into Charlie's line of sight so he wouldn't startle him.Charlie looked up, and the frantic tapping instantly stopped. The relief on his face was so sudden it made Nick’s heart ache. Charlie scrambled off the sofa, dropping his drumsticks without a care, and walked straight into Nick’s open arms.Nick buried his face in Charlie’s hair, breathing in the familiar scent of his shampoo mixed with the metallic, dusty smell of the venue. He wrapped his arms tightly around Charlie’s waist, lifting him slightly off his feet. Charlie clung to him like a koala, hiding his face in the crook of Nick’s neck."They're going to hate us," Charlie mumbled, his voice muffled against Nick's shirt. "The soundcheck was a disaster. My left wrist feels stiff. What if I drop a stick?"Nick gently rubbed large, warm circles into Charlie's back. "Char, breathe. You’ve practiced these songs until you can play them in your sleep. You're the best drummer I've ever seen.""I'm the only drummer you know," Charlie pointed out, pulling back just enough to look at Nick, a small, self-deprecating smile finally breaking through his anxiety."Details," Nick teased, tapping the tip of Charlie's nose. He reached over to the table and handed him the takeaway cup. "Strawberry. Extra whipped cream."Charlie took it, his cheeks flushing a faint, pretty pink. "You're too good to me. I don’t deserve you.""Shut up, yes you do," Nick said affectionately, leaning down to press a soft, lingering kiss to Charlie’s forehead, then his cheek, and finally his lips. The kiss was gentle, a grounding anchor in the middle of the backstage whirlwind. "I'll be right at the front, okay? Just look at me."