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There’s nothing Charlie hates quite as much as the boys locker room.
It’s fifteen horrendous minutes of waiting until he has the chance to change in the bathroom stall, ignoring any jeers or rude looks from the other boys, all while trying his best not to stare at Nick changing next to him. He’s almost mastered brushing off the occasional jostling of elbows from Nick, but sometimes he does this thing when they’re sitting on the bench where he presses his entire knee into Charlie’s bare thigh, accompanied with the punchline to some silly joke or story about his day and Charlie’s heart practically starts to palpitate.
That being said, it’s even more startling when, as Charlie returns from the bathroom stall (head tucked down, uniform balled in his fists), Nick claps him suddenly on the shoulder. “Hey, Charlie, would you mind coming with me to grab the cones and the nets from the closet?”
“Sure,” Charlie agrees, trying not to focus on the way Nick’s fingers feel so near to his collarbone, to an intimate touch. He crams the uniform into his bag. His mother will complain later about the wrinkles in his shirt, but he worries that taking the time to fold his clothes might be just a bit too feminine, might make the boys laugh even more, and Nick isn’t always around to tell them to stop.
He follows Nick dutifully out into the hallway and around the corner, away from the doors leading out into the field. Charlie can’t help but let his eyes wander over Nick’s shoulder blades, the way his hair curls over his neck, wondering how his fingers might feel carding through it—
“Right, well, the bag with the nets is a little heavy so if you don’t mind, I’ll take that,” Nick starts, opening the door to the closet.
“What, are you saying I’m too weak to carry it? Come on, I’ve been training with you for like, a week, at this point. I have to be catching up at least a little.” Charlie grins at him.
Nick’s cheeks start to flush immediately, but there’s a laugh in his voice as he starts to respond. Charlie follows him into the closet (noting the irony of the situation), but is startled when Nick cries out “Watch the door, it locks!”.
Charlie whips his head around, but it’s too late. The door has already shut with a final click. He jiggles the handle, but to no avail. It’s locked. “Oh my god, Nick, I am so, so sorry.”
His head is ringing around and around with panic. He can practically hear the rumors spreading throughout the school already, sixth formers laughing about how the gay year ten locked himself in the closet with Nick Nelson.
“Nick, I am so sorry.” He turns to Nick with panic in his eyes. It’s even more embarrassing to realize that tears are starting to prick at them.
“It’s okay,” Nick says, his face almost unreadable. “We should probably call for help, though. Do you have your phone on you?”
Charlie pats his sides, feeling for nonexistent pockets on his kit. “No, do you?”
“No.” Nick sighs, and edges closer to Charlie.
His breath catches in his lungs until he realizes that Nick isn’t trying to get closer to him, but rather, the door. Their chests are centimeters apart until Charlie quickly tries to move back, accidentally jerking into the shelf behind him with a loud clang.
“Woah,” Nick says, one hand reaching for the shelf behind Charlie’s head as if to protect him from hitting it again. Charlie’s thankful that he doesn’t try to touch him— he might actually pass out if Nick did that. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” The breath comes out of Charlie’s chest just a little fast. His mouth is beginning to dry out with the rapidity of his breathing. “I think I need to sit down.”
Nick’s brows furrow with concern. “Okay.” He grabs Charlie by the wrists and carefully turns him, leading him to the back of the closet. It’s truly a narrow space; their knees bump into each other as Charlie scrambles to take a seat next to a bag of extra scrimmage jerseys.
Nick lets go of his hands and Charlie immediately mourns the loss. “I’m going to bang on the door, okay?” He speaks slowly, clearly noticing the panic in Charlie’s demeanor. “I think they might be able to hear us in the locker room.”
Charlie nods weakly, tucking his knees up to his chin. He tries to practice the box breathing he saw once on the Internet for moments like these, but he can’t remember exactly how, and so his breaths remain rapid and shallow.
Nick, true to his promise, has begun to bang on the door. Loudly. He’s shouting for help and the noise is truly overwhelming, so Charlie covers his ears with his hands and sticks his face into his knees. He can feel the dampness of tears start to soak into the edge of his shorts.
After a few minutes, Nick’s voice starts to get hoarse, and he coughs into his elbow. “I think they went outside, but they’ll probably come back for us eventually.” His gaze swivels to Charlie. “Are you alright? You look super pale.”
“Yeah,” Charlie starts, but even that is breathy. “I’m just so sorry.”
“ Stop apologizing,” Nick says, sinking down next to him. They’re so close but still not touching. “What can I do?”
Charlie rubs his eyes. “I don’t know, I’m just so s-”. He cuts his sentence off after meeting Nick’s eyes. “I just really don’t want you to get in trouble because of me. I don’t want anyone to say anything about it.”
“Hey,” Nick said, catching one of Charlie’s hands with both of his. “We’re not going to get in trouble, okay? It’s a complete accident. Stuff like this happens.” He frowns again. “You shouldn’t have to worry about people saying stuff like that.”
“It’s not me I’m worried about.” Charlie meets Nick’s eyes with shame. “I don’t want you getting dragged into this. I’m used to stuff like what Harry and Ben all say but they’re your friends, and...” His voice trails off as Nick starts absentmindedly kneading at his palm with his thumbs. His fingers smooth over his knuckles almost professionally, but he doesn’t break their eye contact. There’s a softness in his eyes that makes Charlie’s stomach swoop low in his gut.
“I don’t know if I want to be friends with them anymore.” Nick’s voice is quiet, thumbs still roaming across Charlie’s palms. Now his eyes are cast on the floor tiles. “I don’t know how I haven’t seen earlier how awful they are . And they’re so mean to you, I just—”
“Nick, really, it’s okay. It’s not worth it.” Charlie realizes that they’ve subconsciously scooted closer to each other. Their knees are brushing, and Charlie’s hand is still being held by Nick, who doesn’t seem to want to give it up. Butterflies still manage to flutter into Charlie’s throat with each swipe of Nick’s thumb despite the fact that there are tears, wet under his eyes.
Nick’s grip on his hand tightens. “What I’m trying to tell you, Charlie, is that it is worth it. You’re worth it.”
Charlie briefly wonders if he’s hallucinating, if he truly did pass out and maybe hit his head on the way down. Still, Nick’s hand feels too real in his for it to be a dream. He’s stopped massaging but holds onto Charlie’s fingers as if they’re a lifeline. Nick’s eyes meet his again. There’s something so serious in the set of his brows, the concern in his eyes. Charlie’s aware that the proximity between their faces feels like it’s shrinking.
“Nick, Charlie, are you in here— oh!”
Charlie’s hand gets dropped like it’s on fire and within a half a second of Coach Singh opening the door, Nick is on his feet. “Coach Singh! Yeah, the door shut behind us, you know how it locks...” The buzzing in Charlie’s head drowns out the rest of Nick’s words as he slowly clambers to his feet, regaining feeling in his legs.
The rest of practice is uneventful. They run laps. Harry tackles Charlie especially hard and Charlie pretends like he won’t be feeling it in his back for the remainder of the day. Nick, for the most part, keeps his distance. Charlie wonders if he might have imagined the hand-holding, the leaning in.
That is, until Nick catches him by the hand again outside of the locker room on his way out. “Hey, uh, I was wondering if you maybe wanted to come over today.”
Charlie’s eyes are fixed on Nick’s hand in his (again!), until Nick quickly glances around the corridor and drops it. “Sure.” The answer is a gut response (how could he ever say no to Nick?) and it’s all the more worth it when Nick’s entire face lights up with that smile that he must be at least half in love with at this point.
“Great. My mum will be happy to see you,” Nick says, leading them down the corridor to the exit where her car usually waits. “And if you’re lucky, Nellie will be with her.” He casts a careful glance around and then, for the third time that day slips his hand into Charlie’s and squeezes, just for the briefest of moments. “Plus, I was kind of hoping we could. You know. Talk.”
Charlie’s heart thumps a million miles in his chest. “Okay,” he breathes out, following Nick into the car park. His mind races through every possible idea of what they could talk about, landing on and skipping around the most obvious but somehow unbelievable one like a bee that’s afraid to pollinate a flower. He promised Tao that he wouldn’t get his hopes up, but when Nick looks back at him with that smile again, just shyer, he thinks he might just faint right there.
Charlie loves Nick’s mum. She makes Nick sit in the backseat so that she can “catch up with dear Charlie”, and asks all sorts of questions about how his term is going and whether or not “those rugby boys” are being nice, shooting an interrogative look at Nick when Charlie just chuckles awkwardly at that question and dodges a real answer. Nellie’s in the car, and she jumps into Charlie’s lap eagerly, settling her face on his shoulder. He wraps both arms around her to give her pets while telling Mrs. Nelson all about the upcoming orchestra concert.
When Charlie glances back at Nick, his eyes are cast out the window, that same unreadable expression as before in them. His hands are gripped onto the gym bag in his lap so tightly that his knuckles have started to whiten.
Charlie begins to panic internally again. What if he made an even bigger mistake locking them in the closet than he thought? What if Nick thought he was making a move on him? What if Nick’s about to sit him down for this “talk” and tell him that he doesn’t want to be friends anymore? But then, why would he grab his hands like that?
Nick meets his gaze as his mum parks the car and a soft smile pushes at the edges of his mouth. Charlie can breathe a little easier, but not by much.
By the time they’re upstairs, the tension in the air is as thick as pound cake. At least for Charlie. Nick seems as casual as ever as he heads up the stairs to his room, although his face is still weirdly solemn whenever he isn’t looking at Charlie. The door clicks shut behind him with an intense air of finality, and Charlie’s stomach swoops low. They’ve been in this room before with the door shut, but it’s never felt like this, not even in Charlie’s wildest daydreams.
They settle on the floor like they always do when they’re going to do homework together. Charlie marvels every time at the fact that he has a routine with Nick Nelson, that it looks like this: Nick throwing on a cozy jumper, the quiet shuffling of maths worksheets, the eventual tossing of pencils at each other and rushing to grab the Nintendo Switch when motivation for the work runs dry.
Today feels different. Neither of them makes a single move for their homework. Nick’s knee brushes against Charlie’s and he ducks his head, as if he’s suddenly shy. Charlie swallows.
“So, what did you want to talk about?” He can feel his pulse in his ears.
“Um.” Nick licks his lips and refuses to look at him, but Charlie keeps his gaze level on his face. He wants to see Nick’s expression when he says whatever it is that he’s about to say next. “I was going to ask, actually... How did you know that you were gay?”
If it’s even possible, Charlie’s pulse slams faster. He might go into cardiac arrest soon. “Oh!” He knows what that question means. It’s a tale as old as time. Internally, he starts to prepare his “I told you so” speech for Tao.
Nick’s eyes flash up to meet his, brow crinkled with surprise, and Charlie realizes that it might have sounded like an odd response. “Sorry, uh, sorry, that was a dumb way to react to that question,” Charlie blusters. “Um, I guess I just always knew? When I was a kid, I never thought of girls that way. It was always all about boys. Romantically, I mean.”
“Oh.” Nick’s eyes lower again. “I guess that makes sense,” he says, sullen in a way Charlie’s never really heard before.
“I mean, why?” Charlie inches just a bit closer to him. “What’s up?”
Nick’s too busy playing with the carpet to meet his eyes, but when he suddenly looks up, his eyes are shiny with tears. “I guess I’ve just been, I don’t know, confused lately.”
Every part of Charlie softens in sympathy. This is always the toughest part, and he can’t even imagine how hard it might be for Nick. “Confused how?”
“Well, I always liked girls, but now...” He trails off and returns picking at the carpet. It doesn’t seem like the end of his sentence is going anywhere, but Charlie gently probes.
“But now?”
“I don’t know. I just really don’t know.” Nick’s voice is so quiet, Charlie can barely hear it.
He takes a deep breath, and carefully moves his hand over Nick’s to pause the anxious picking at the carpet. “Is there someone you think you might like now? Someone who maybe... isn’t a girl?”
Their eyes meet once more, and this time, it makes Charlie’s heart stop. He doesn’t know how Nick can possibly be this beautiful— his eyes shimmering and soft, cheeks rosy, lips parted. He forces himself not to focus on that last part.
Nick swallows. “Yeah,” he breathes, barely audibly.
Charlie smiles, although there’s still a tiny voice in his head warning him that it might not be him that Nick’s thinking about. “What are they like, then?”
A tiny smile pricks at Nick’s mouth, his eyes crinkling at the corners fondly. “He’s”—Charlie’s heart pounding anew at this pronoun—”uh, smart. And funny.” Nick’s fingers interlace with this. “Annoyingly good at everything, like drums and maths and Mario Kart, and I don’t know, Charlie, sometimes you just smile and it’s like the entire world gets brighter.”
He can’t help the grin spreading across his face. “Nick...”
Nick just keeps going. “I just, I think I really like you because I always want to be around you and it’s not the way I normally want to hang out with friends but it’s confusing because I’ve never really felt this strongly and I’m not sure where it’s coming from and I just—”
“Nick!” Charlie puts his free hand on Nick’s shoulder, interrupting the babbling. “It’s okay. It’s okay to not know, I promise.” Now, with his hand so close to Nick’s chest, he can feel his anxious tremble, the shudder of his breaths.
Nick swallows again. “You promise?”
Charlie nods. The air has returned to something quiet, the kind of tension that crackles under his fingers. Nick’s thumb slides against his. “I promise.”
A new anxiety enters Nick’s gaze. “I also don’t want you to feel like, you know, you have to hang out with me, I totally get it if this is weird or if it makes hanging out with me weird, you know, if you don’t like me back—”
Charlie can’t help but interrupt. “Woah, Nick. Of course I like you back. I mean, have you seen yourself?” He moves his hand from Nick’s shoulder to gently sweep a thumb along his jaw. “You’re Nick Nelson. You’re so kind, to everyone, all the time, and you put everything you have into everything you do, and I literally want to be with you all the time.”
There’s a beat of silence. Then, a quiet “You do?”
Charlie laughs. “Yes, of course, Nick. I like you so much. So, so much. And it’s totally okay if you’re not sure about everything, because these things take time, you know? There’s no rush. Absolutely none.”
Then, almost as quietly as before, Nick asks the question that Charlie did not think he’d ever hear. “Charlie, can I kiss you?”
He’s nodding before he even hears the end of the question. Their faces are so close together already and his stomach is doing flips. Nick carefully lets go of his hand and cups his face, bringing him in to kiss him.
It’s better than he ever could have imagined (and Charlie certainly had tried his best to imagine this moment). He practically liquefies under the feel of Nick’s lips moving against his, the warmth of his hands on his face. He finds himself reaching for Nick just as eagerly, sliding one hand through his hair and the other up his arm, gripping onto the fabric of his jumper. The kiss is sweet but fervent, and they quickly lose each other in it, wrapped up in the sensation of each other.
When it finally breaks, Nick looks like an angel, lips swollen, hair messed up from Charlie’s hands. “Are you okay?” Charlie asks.
Nick nods slowly. “I’m okay.” He tucks his face into the side of Charlie’s neck and wraps his arms around his waist, pulling him closer. Charlie sinks into the embrace, holding him just as tightly. “Is it alright if we sit like this? Just for a little bit?”
“Yeah, it’s okay,” Charlie says. “We have all the time in the world.”