Chapter Text
Charlie wakes up on Saturday with an awful headache. He didn’t drink that much, so he figures the hangover is a moral one.
The rest of the weekend goes by in a blur of conflicting thoughts.
At first, he decides it’s no big deal; Nick probably won’t even remember the whole thing. Then, unrelated, he looks it up how long the process to transfer universities would take. Then, he prays for all the listening gods for protection, he really doesn’t want to get punched in the face.
He doesn’t quite know what to expect, doesn’t have any idea about how Nick will react when they eventually run into each other. What if Nick has told everyone? What if he wants some kind of revenge? What if the whole thing is a joke?
And, because Charlie is an unlucky bastard, first thing Monday morning there’s a track practice. And, yes, of course, it happens to be at the same time of the rugby team's practice.
Delightful.
Actually, he can’t even joke about it in his own head. There’s no delight.
What the fuck was he thinking on Friday? Maybe he has a subconscious death wish? Could it be that he was temporarily possessed by a horny demon? How on earth did he think that kissing the straightest lad of all lads was a doable deed?
Throughout the practice he pretends he has no peripheral vision, doing everything in his power to not look over the field. He focuses on his running, moving fast, pouring his frustrations in each quick step. He even gets a compliment from the coach. All in all it could’ve gone worse.
Although he has no idea if Nick was present at all, or if he saw Charlie, or if he even would remember or acknowledge or care about what happened.
Whatever, Charlie will count this as a win.
*
Charlie keeps on feeling like shit for the next few days. Going over and over the events of that night, from the “hi” to the kiss, questioning himself and his gaydar, questioning his drunken state and if Nick really wanted the kiss.
The last time he was this uncertain about himself was in the few first weeks with Ben, before he got used to their fucked up dynamic. After his forced coming out, he kept to himself in school; barely daring to look in the direction of another boy so rumors wouldn’t get started and things went back to being awful.
Ben approached him; it was unexpected and confusing and Charlie thinks he was supposed to feel happy; he only felt overwhelmed. Briefly, he did wonder about Ben’s intentions and his own feelings, but he put the doubts aside; he finally had a boyfriend, after all. It was everything he’d ever wanted. Ben was handsome and charming and he wanted Charlie, which was what mattered. He also wanted secrecy, going to great lengths to publicly avoid Charlie, sometimes overcompensating and treating him with disdain and derision. Charlie had understood, it was better to avoid any possible suspicions.
Then again, he was sure that Ben had liked him; why else would he risk his social status by associating with someone like Charlie? But, it wasn’t easy, the hot and cold treatment had made Charlie’s heart ache. Ben would send him dry and short texts, he would get mad if Charlie was late or early to their meetings, he would kiss Charlie with passion and an intensity that made Charlie squirm, he would leave without giving any hints if they would see each other again or if that was the last time.
He feels on edge just like he did back then. He worries and worries a little more; anxiety eating him up and bringing him down. Why must everything be so bloody complicated? Why must everything always affect him this much?
*
He sees Nick, from far away, a few times during the following weeks; in the dining hall, in one of his solo runs across campus and even between his exchanging buildings for class. Good thing that he knows himself, knows that he can be very delusional; otherwise, he would've believed that Nick was looking back at him.
Each of these sightings brings him the sensorial memories of their kiss. It hurts to know he will never have the chance to feel the same. He’d felt alive. Nick’s touch reminded him that he is still alive.
He feels wrong-footed, watching the hours go by when he should be sleeping, wondering how something that felt so right was never meant to be at all.
*
Just when he’d almost convinced himself not to think about the situation anymore – almost, he keeps forgetting that he's supposed to get over it – the whole thing goes down, in the locker room of all places.
He always tries to be the last in and the last out. Besides avoiding a run in with some of the lads that may be or may not be homophobes, he just hates being in the vulnerable position where random people could see the faded scars on his upper arms or his too thin frame. The door opens, while he’s finishing his hair, making him nearly jump out of his skin. And in comes Nick Nelson, flushed in the face and looking like a deer in the headlights.
They stare at each other for some terrifying seconds. Nick puts one hand in his own nape and Charlie tries to disappear into himself.
“I thought you had left.”
“Sorry. I’ll leave.”
“No! I actually was hoping we could talk?”
“Oh?”
Charlie’s body freezes; his instincts fail him, no flight or fight.
“I wanted—want to apologize for what happened. I guess I was drunker than I thought I was. I’m sorry for giving you the wrong idea and making everything so awkward. I really enjoyed talking with you… It was really nice. I mean—if you could get over my stupidity, maybe we could be friends? If that’s something you’re interested in, of course. I wouldn’t want to pressure you or…”
Nick says all that with hesitating words, like he thinks that Charlie is about to make fun of him. And, Jesus, he knew from the gossips that Nick’s a nice person, but this is really something else. His brain has some difficulty formulating a response.
“You have nothing to apologize for, Nick. I’m the one who’s truly at fault. I misread the situation, I think my sugary drinks were definitely stronger than I could handle. I’m so sorry, if I made you uncomfortable.”
Nick takes a few steps closer to him, one aborted move that says that he wanted to touch Charlie, to comfort him, if his troubled expression is anything to go by.
“Hey, let’s just forget about it, ok? It wasn’t a big deal, right?”
“Definitely, no big deal.”
Nick seems to study him, probably looking for confirmation that he won’t get jumped again. So, Charlie forces a smile and tries to reassure him.
“And, why not, yeah? Let’s be friends.”
Nick, bless him, actually looks relieved at that, a sweet smile on his face. And although Charlie wouldn’t mind making out with him again, he’s quite glad that this mess at least got him a possible friend.
So they exchange numbers and promise to see each other soon enough.
*
This time Charlie decides he’s better off maintaining his sobriety. Nick’s having a surprise birthday party for one of his closest mate in their shared flat and Charlie won’t risk embarrassing himself again.
It’s been three weeks since they talked it out and exchanged numbers.
They’ve met twice for coffee, after their respective busy days, chatting over tea and muffins; but mostly, they texted, a lot. It seems like they never run out of topics and silly things to laugh about. Geoff is very proud of him; Geoff also does not know about the kissing incident, Charlie had deemed the incident not that important.
The party is smaller than he expected; it’s just some of the rugby lads and their dates. At first, Charlie considered saying no to the invitation, it didn’t seem like a great idea, but he’s glad he came. Turns out that he’s not the only queer friend that Nick has and that makes Charlie feel calmer. Tara is a friend from childhood, and she and Nick had actually dated before she realized she was a lesbian, her girlfriend, Darcy, is also present, and it seems like there’s no resentment between them.
Nick spends the whole party jumping from group to group. He takes care of the guests needs like a seasoned host, making sure that everybody has at least one drink or a snack in their hands. Checking up on Charlie a few times, to be sure that’s he’s comfortable, and each time with an apology for not being able to hang out more.
By now, most of the guests are gone, the few remaining is either passed out somewhere or snogging in a dark corner with the exception of the person that seems to be having the sleep of their life on the stair’s steps. He’s glad he’s not them.
Nick throws himself onto the sofa, right beside Charlie.
“If you ever see me planning on putting together another party, stop me, please. I’m so tired.”
“I think you’ll be fine, Nicholas.”
“Don’t mock me, Charles.”
Charlie tries to squash the flutter on his stomach. These past few days, they’ve been teasing each other with their full names. They’ve grown closer.
“Hey, we should watch something.”
“Weren’t you just about to die from exhaustion?”
“Charlie!”
“Fine, you drama queen.”
They sit side by side in Nick’s bed.
Nick chooses a romantic comedy because he’s a confessed softie; something that Charlie has also been teasing him endlessly about. The lights are low, and there’s way more romance than comedy in this film.
Charlie starts to become very self-aware of the space his body’s occupying; his breathing sounds louder and his skin heats up. And that’s before the couple in the screen decide they’ve waited too long for their first time, portraying an amazing chemistry while they kiss and shed clothes.
The tension multiplies and he realizes that both of them are quiet and still. He tries to keep his eyes on the film but there’s a force pulling him in Nick’s direction.
When he dares to move and look at Nick, their eyes connect. Nick’s staring at him, something vulnerable in his face.
“Charlie.”
He fucking whispers Charlie’s name all breathy and lovely. And Charlie leans in, doing the same thing he did almost forever ago, already questioning himself. Nick breaths against him, their mouths not quite touching; there’s anguish in his eyes, there’s teeth in his lips.
Charlie looks down, seeing that Nick’s more than affected by their positions; his sweatpants leaving very little to imagination. With no permission from his brain, Charlie’s hand puts itself on Nick’s thigh. Nick lets out what can only be described as a whine in Charlie’s ear, making him bolder. His touch is light as his fingers travel through Nick’s body, his warmth turning Charlie on.
His fingers reach their intended destination and Nick moans, his head thumping against the wall behind the bed. His hand touches skin and he can’t believe his life right now. He feels feverish and Nick’s burning; it feels like the beginning of an explosion.
Nick keeps making these small noises at the back of his throat, eyes shut tight, head trashing side to side and Charlie wants to devour him.
A long and deep groan spills out of Nick and that’s the warning sign. Charlie watches him as he gets his breathing under control, not knowing what to expect.
Nick opens his eyes and Charlie goes cold. It’s déjà vu. There’s a frantic look in his eyes, and Charlie stays motionless as Nick jumps out of the bed and goes to the en-suite bathroom.
Charlie feels lost and stupid and guilty and used, maybe. He definitely is confused.
Nick takes a long time; Charlie can hear water running, wondering if he should just leave. His vision is blurry from the humiliation tears wanting to spill out, and he tries to fight against the crushing weight of them.
As he gets up, ready to make his escape, Nick comes back.
“Are you leaving, then?”
“I think I should.”
“Alright.”
Nick has the audacity to look relieved.
“See you Friday, yeah? At the coffee shop?”
Charlie doesn’t trust his voice, not that he would’ve had anything to say, the numbness is taking over. So he nods and goes home.