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“Tell me a sad story.”
Charlie stops mid-strum, the aimless melody coming to an abrupt stop.
Olly’s laying on Charlie’s couch, head in Tori’s lap while she softly strokes through her long curls. It takes Charlie a moment to process what Olly asked, not used to her voice being so raspy and monotone. But it’s been, to put it mildly, a fuck of a few days for her. For all of the Spring siblings, really.
They’re lucky, all things considered. Yeah, Jane and Julio deciding that having a trans daughter was a step too far for them as parents is incredibly shitty. And the fact that they hurt Olly of all people, the one perpetual ball of sunshine in their otherwise bleak family, is something Charlie will never forgive them for. But the silver lining at least is that she had somewhere safe to land. Charlie never expected to be able to afford a house in London, but now that he officially has his 14-year-old sister as a roommate, he’s very grateful for the success that made it happen.
“I don’t think that’ll help.” Tori says, a faint streak of gentleness mixed into her normally flat tone.
“Tori, if you think anything could make me happy right now, you’re bloody delusional.”
“I’m not saying you need to be happy, Olly. I just don’t see how hearing a sad story won’t make you sadder.”
“Why do you listen to sad music?” Olly asks. “Why does Tao love depressing movies? Why has Charlie filled two notebooks full of sad songs he’s written about all his shitty exes?”
“Because we’re all therapised and crave catharsis?” Charlie mutters. “Besides, Tori’s an angst vampire. It sustains her.” He adds, barely dodging the pillow she throws at his face.
“I just…” Olly begins, getting choked up again. “Everything hurts right now. And it feels like it’s going to hurt like this forever. But I know you’ve both been through some shit. I know you’ve hurt like this and come out the other side. So if you’re down to share, I just… It’d be nice to know it isn’t just me.”
Charlie starts strumming again as he tries to figure out which of the many shitty moments of his life is the best fit for the somber vibe.
As usual, his fingers find the way before his head does. The soothingly tragic chords of one of the many songs he’s written about Nick Nelson echoes through the silence of their living room.
“Do you remember Nick Nelson?” Charlie asks. It takes Olly a few moments to remember, but takes Tori no time at all.
“The O.G. shitty ex,” Tori says.
“No no. That title belongs to Ben Hope and Ben Hope alone,” Charlie says. “Nick isn’t an ex. We never dated. But…”
“Wait, the rugby lad you were friends with in Year 10?” Olly asks. “He was hot right?”
“Fuck yeah,” Charlie says right as Tori says “4 out of 10.” Charlie glares at her.
“What? He was easy on the eyes but also a fucking coward.”
“He was 16, Tori.”
“Did he, or did he not, break your heart?”
“Yeah,” Charlie says without hesitation. “He’s the only person who ever has.”
Olly rolls onto her side, facing Charlie. The single lit lamp in the corner casts her face in soft shadows, nearly hiding the red rims of her eyes. He never thought he’d tell her this story. He never thought he’d tell anyone apart from his therapist really. But Olly wants to hear a sad story, and going back to the one and only time Charlie Spring ever let himself fall in love is the saddest story he’s got.
“I met Nick Nelson halfway through Year 10,” Charlie begins. “We were seated together, and at first it was just a silly little crush. I don’t know when we became friends, but somehow, we did…”
Strangely, the good times are harder to talk about than the bad; Running and rugby. Mario Kart and movies. That day with Nick and Nellie and the soft snow and softer smiles. Most of Charlie’s memories are grainy and grey, but he’s gone over these so many times that they exist in vivid technicolour. But the closer he gets to the night it all fell apart in that hotel ballroom, the more the colour drains from every image. Every time Nick made his heart stop, the world desaturated a little more. Every signal he convinced himself was there, every time he told himself he was more than just an experiment, all of them should have been signs of how it was all going to end.
Nick loving Charlie back was always a distant dream. He would always run away.
“I shouldn’t have said anything,” Charlie says. “But I needed to know if it was all in my head. So I asked him if he had a crush. If he would ever kiss a boy… If he’d kiss me.”
“And he kissed you?” Olly asks.
Calling it a kiss feels like an understatement. It was perfect and horrifying. Life-changing and earth shattering. It was the spark that started the forest fire that burned down the old Charlie; the one who existed before he obsessed over the strawberry-blonde swoop of his hair or the way light twinkled across the warm honey brown of his eyes.
Before Nick kissed him. Before he ran away.
“Yeah. He kissed me.” Charlie states as cold as the chords he plays. “And then he ran away. The next time I saw him, he just… acted like I didn’t exist. A month later, he transferred to that sports academy, St. Johns, and I never saw him again. I… didn’t handle it well.”
“Yeah. That I remember…” Olly murmurs. Charlie wishes she didn’t remember what came after.
Charlie, alone. Charlie, empty.
Charlie, broken.
“But you got through it,” Olly says eventually. “You got into making music. You, me, Darcy, and Sahar started playing together. You founded RE-COVER-Y, raised a fuckton for charity, made enough to buy a fucking house at 22, and now you’re, like, proper famous.”
“Let’s not go nuts,” Charlie says. “I’m internet famous at best. Besides, it’s not about me, or us. It’s about helping people. Being fucking kind. And occasionally playing sad songs while we cathart.”
“Ewww.”
“Oh, sod off. The point is, you’re going to be okay. Someday, it won’t hurt as much. Hearts heal. Life moves on. And someday you’ll look at yourself in the mirror and realize all the people who broke your heart can’t hurt you anymore because your heart is unbreakable.”
Charlie almost believes it. But as he continues to strum, he thinks about the fine print: that when your heart breaks, it doesn’t quite heal back right. He still loves; loves his siblings, his friends, the people he helps. But when he tries to imagine falling in love with someone the way he did with Nick, it doesn't feel like a possibility.
Or maybe his brain just can't imagine loving anyone else. Even now, nearly 10 years and hundreds of miles between them, for all the pain and heartache he put Charlie through, loving Nick Nelson feels like the easiest thing in the universe.
In any universe, he imagines.
And in a room full of people, I look for you
Would you avoid me or would you look for me too?
Tell me, is our story through? (Through)
Or do our hearts still beat in tune?
Charlie tells himself he doesn’t think about Nick Nelson anymore.
It’s been so long he can barely remember the strawberry-blond swoop of his hair or the way light twinkles across the warm honey brown of his eyes. He doesn’t still feel the lingering warmth of brushing fingers or the ghost of a spark against his lips. He doesn’t look for him in every crowd. He’s a 28-year-old man for fuck's sake. He doesn’t have time to think about the boy he was in love with at 14.
Okay, so maybe Charlie still thinks about Nick Nelson a lot little.
And usually the thoughts pass quickly. Charlie’s always pushing himself forward; the next song to learn, the next video to post, the next collab or concert or cup of coffee. Being one of the Internet's most popular musicians keeps him seven different kinds of busy so normally any thoughts about anything other than that go as quickly as they came.
Maybe he gives the thoughts of Nick an extra nudge.
When he hears a familiar deep voice softly say “Charlie?”, he thinks a thought about Nick is just being stubborn and refusing to move the fuck on. It’s not until Olly looks up from the guitar she’s tuning, her already 100 megawatt smile somehow dialing up to sun-levels of brightness.
“No fucking way!” Olly yells.
“Olly! Language!” Charlie says scoldingly. “We’re at a bloody youth shelter! I’m so sorry si–”
For a moment Charlie thinks he’s drunk so much espresso today that the stubborn thought of Nick Nelson has turned into a full-on hallucination. But he quickly realizes that even though it feels fucking impossible, the man standing in front of him now is very real.
Nick Nelson’s hair still has the strawberry-blond swoop. The fairy lights strung up around the shelter’s music room twinkle across the warm honey brown of his eyes. The rest of him has changed; He’s grown into the broad muscles of his chest and clearly knows how to choose a button-up that hugs them as perfectly as they do those strong rugby arms. The baby-fat is mostly gone from his face, replaced by a strong jaw and the shadow of stubble. He was always tall, but he somehow stands taller now, like he’s unburdened by the confusion and panic that used to weigh down his shoulders. What hasn’t changed is his smile, hesitant and soft, somehow feeling so intimate, like it’s just for Charlie.
“Hi,” Nick says, eyes lingering a moment too long to mean nothing.
“Hi,” Charlie tries to say calmly, but instead it comes off stupidly hopeful, like Charlie’s in a romcom instead of fucking reality.
Nick only looks away when Olly practically leaps into his arms. Nick gives the polite version of Olly’s manic smile, wrapping his arms around the lanky 18 year old who’s nearly a half a head taller than him now.
“My god! You were so little last I saw you,” Nick says, that smile melting Charlie’s insides like he’s been tossed into a fucking microwave. “Now you’re a full-grown woman!”
“Wow! A cis-het man who respects the pronouns? Solid allyship there, Nick.” Olly says, flicking her she/her pronoun pin.
“Well, I’m… I’m bisexual, actually…” Nick says, eyes glancing back to Charlie as if desperate to see his reaction. “Not that cis-het men have any excuse.”
“Yes! The world needs more bi-hotties like us!” Olly exclaims joyfully, hugging Nick again before realizing the man’s eyes are locked on Charlie. “Oh right! Charlie! You remember Nick right?”
Olly’s normally bubbly expression morphs into one Charlie’s all too familiar with: that stupid knowing smirk he normally only gets from Tori. God, he wishes he’d never told Olly what Nick was to Charlie.
Or almost was. Then very much wasn’t.
“It’s… I didn’t expect to see you today,” Nick says. “I mean, I know you’re here all the time. The kids talk about you a lot. All good things, obviously…”
“Really? They mostly just call me old and tell me how much cooler my sister is,” Charlie says with a laugh.
“So the truth?”
“Excuse you! Just ‘cause it’s the truth doesn’t mean they need to tell me to my face! Can’t they just say it in the comments like everyone else?”
“I think you’re cool.”
Charlie wishes he were the delusional type. Then maybe he could convince himself that he doesn’t react to Nick Nelson saying that. That it’s just suddenly really hot in here.
“Oh so you’ve been keeping up with what our dear Charlie’s been up to?” Olly asks Nick with a tone of innocence and a grin of mischief. “You’re looking at the co-founder, drummer, and heartthrob of YouTube’s 27th most popular music channel! And no disrespect to our Latin Trap King Bad Bunny, but thanks to the Internet's new favourite twunk over here, we’ll be 26th in no time–”
“He’s really overselling it!” Charlie interjects with a forced laugh.
“I don’t think so.” Nick says. “I watch all your videos. I actually started volunteering at Okonjo Foundation Shelter in Leeds back when I lived there because of you. You’re… incredible.”
This is normally the part where Charlie would be humble. But the quiet yet encouraging voice his psychiatrist Geoff has been helping him foster knows what he and his friends have done is impressive.
RE-COVER-Y started as a way for him to push himself to learn more instruments beyond just the drums and hopefully give some attention to good causes in the process. It started with a cover, Mazzy Star’s Fade Into You strummed on his worn, sticker-covered Gibson, a link to the donation page for the program that’d helped him not only survive his ED but learn to live with it, and a promise to dedicate most of what his channel earned to giving back to people like him; people who stood on the edge of cliff and somehow managed to step back. With Tao’s help, he posted more covers and videos, mostly just him in his bedroom playing guitar or him spotlighting different brilliant charities across the UK. It wasn’t until Queen FART started spewing her anti-trans bullshit that he really got people’s attention, him, Sahar, Darcy, and his little sister turned guitar prodigy Olly staged a protest concert outside one of her speaking engagements in full drag. They ended up in handcuffs, but videos of their flash protest spread across social media like wild-fire. After that, their band, Queerly Beloved, was born, RE-COVER-Y subs shot up, the charities they supported saw huge spikes in donations and volunteer sign ups, and Charlie went from just some scrawny gay kid singing in his room to, well, what Olly said.
“Okay, maybe Olly’s right,” Charlie says. He stands a little taller, putting his arms behind his head so he can show off the biceps he’s earned through a very active life and maybe a few vanity work outs here and there. And he doesn’t miss the way Nick’s eyes widen and his cheeks get a little rosy. “It’s kinda impressive. But I promise I’m, like, totally humble and chill about it.”
Right, because what’s more humble and chill than pointing out how humble and chill you are. God, Charlie needs to get it together.
"Good for you, Charlie,” Nick sputters out suddenly, face reddening by the second. “Not that you need my approval or anything! Of course you don't need my approval. It's an incredible thing you're doing. You're, like, iconic to so many queer and questioning people and you're doing so much for so many good causes! Your fundraising is literally what inspired me to start volunteering here! But I guess that’s what you do best right? That and play like a dozen different instruments like a pro and sing like an angel and look so… Oh god, I’m sorry, I’m rambling, I'm just going to shut my mouth now."
Charlie’s laughing before he can stop himself. For all the differences 14 years has brought, Nick is still very much Nick. Charlie laughing seems to calm Nick a bit too, his fluster turning into a deep chuckle that’s so soothing to his ears. Olly keeps looking between them, before giving an overdramatic yawn.
“You know, I think I’m going to need another coffee before I finish packing up,” Olly says, smiling at Charlie. “Time to raid the kitchen, maybe chat with the kids more. Give them some more time with the coolest Spring.”
“Don’t let Tori hear you call yourself that.”
“Pfft. She only scares me a lot. You two have fun catching up.”
And then she’s gone, but not before shooting Charlie one last wink. Jerk.
Charlie shuffles his feet, looking around the music room like his eyes want to be anywhere but on Nick.
To be fair, they kinda do.
“Charlie.”
Fuck. Speaking of things that don’t feel real.
Charlie turns back to Nick, who’s now eased himself onto one of the chairs. Charlie slides into one opposite Nick, and though he’s way too thrown off by this unexpected run in and waaaaaayyyyy too gay to be making this much eye-contact with full-grown fully-drool worthy Nick Nelson, he meets his gaze anyway. There’s a lot to it that Charlie can’t read, but what he can see clear as day is remorse.
“I’m sorry!” Nick says just as Charlie says “No S-word!”
For a moment they just stare at each other, Nick stunned and Charlie sincere.
“I can’t believe you remember that.”
“I can’t believe you were about to apologize for something you did 14 years ago.”
“But I mean it, Charlie,” Nick blurts out, his breaths getting quicker with each word. “You were… my best friend. And then I kissed you, and instead of doing what I should’ve done, I ran like a bloody coward–”
“Nick, breathe!” Charlie interjects. He keeps his eyes locked on Nicks, slowing his breaths to a one-two count. Nick catches on quick enough, which is great since comforting his not-ex through a panic attack about their almost-but-not-quite relationship wasn’t on his to-do list for the day.
“And what should you have done, Nick?” Charlie asks after Nick’s calmed down. He’s spent ages fantasizing and dreading all the different answers he’s come up with to this question. But now he gets to hear it from someone other than his brain, and he’s amazed he doesn’t look like he’s freaking out about that as much as he actually is.
“I should’ve kissed you again,” Nick says barely louder than a whisper. “I should’ve told you I was crazy about you. I should have… I should have stayed.”
Charlie closes his eyes, the achingly honest 29 year old Nick Nelson suddenly smashed together with the terrified 16 year old Nick who broke his heart. But it’s fine. His heart’s unbreakable now, even if it healed too ugly to ever give to anyone again. And he’s wise enough now to know that that wasn’t Nick’s fault. Not entirely anyway.
“Nick… If you want me to accept your apology, I do,” Charlie says eventually. “But that’s it. You’ve officially used your one sorry.”
“But Charlie–”
“No buts! You’re not the teenager having a full-on bi-crisis. I’m not the timid boy with a crush too big to handle.”
“You weren’t the only one. With a big crush I mean,” Nick admits. “But when I kissed you, I… well, it’s stupid.”
“Tell me anyway,” Charlie says. “If you want to. Sorry. I’m a little too heavily therapised now, so talking about the dumb things I did back then is just second nature.”
Nick cringes a little, but keeps his eyes on Charlie.
“There was panic, obviously. But it was selfish. I cared way too much what people thought of me back then. But I also thought… I thought ‘I just fucked up the best thing in my life.’ I was friends with Charlie Spring, this kind, funny, smart, beautiful person. I finally found someone who sees me, and doesn’t think I’m too much, and I… And I felt like if I stayed, if I let myself have you like that, there was no way I wouldn’t just fuck it all up anyway…”
It’s only a few seconds after Nick trails off that Charlie remembers he needs to breathe too, you know, live. He always knew Nick’s thoughts ran far deeper than even he realized. But he’s spent so long telling himself that he didn’t mean anything to Nick. That if he had, Nick wouldn’t have thrown it all away. Hearing the opposite now is making Charlie rewrite his whole perception of reality.
“I don’t know what would have happened if you’d stayed,” Charlie says eventually, surprised he can even string together a full sentence. “There’s so much I didn’t know about myself then. You saw the Charlie who was just trying to pass for normal, but I didn’t. I saw the shitty sundae of unacknowledged neurodivergence, undiagnosed OCD and anorexia, with some internalized homophobia sprinkled on top. I… I loved you. But love can’t cure mental illness.”
Nick’s breath hitches at the words, which Charlie gets because his does too. He never thought he’d admit it to Nick, but now the truth sits between them all these years later.
“Maybe… But I still wish I’d stayed,” Nick says. “There hasn’t been a single day since that I don’t regret walking away from you, Charlie Spring.”
Charlie should hesitate, stop and take a full inventory of his feelings before he does what he does. But instead he just reaches into his pocket, pulls out his phone, and holds it out to Nick.
“Then don’t,” Charlie says with a small smile. “Stay. Be my… friend.”
Charlie recognizes the look that crosses Nick’s face this time. Hope. It always looked so good on him but it’s radiant now. When he hands Charlie’s phone back to him, their fingers brush. The sensation isn’t a shock like it was the first time. Instead it’s a warm flow of something that both scares and thrills Charlie at the same time.
Possibility.
Charlie's not going to let himself get his hopes up. But maybe, just maybe, Charlie can imagine a universe where him and Nick Nelson can be friends.
What doesn't kill you makes you paranoid
What doesn't kill you makes you feel like your love ain't shit
Ran up my minutes on my inner voice
She loves to bring up all my issues, God, she's the bitch
And now I'm like
"Why are they staring? Am I oversharing? I'm so embarrassing"
What doesn't, what doesn't
What doesn't kill you, what doesn't kill you
What doesn't kill you makes you paranoid
Charlie Spring never feels more free than when he’s behind his drum kit.
Maybe because he’s, to be not even a little bit humble, a great fucking drummer. What started as having one too many crushes on drummers in his baby-gay era somehow blossomed into his favourite way to relax. His parents chose to interpret him putting all his pent up teen angst into hitting something loud with sticks as “has a passion for music!”. And Charlie, surprisingly, was quite good at hitting said loud things with said sticks. Knowing first hand that It’s the kind of talent that some people seem to find quite sexy was a nice bonus.
Nick Nelson is one of those people if the face he’s making is anything to go by.
There’s a decent size crowd here, but it’s far from the ocean of people they get when they announce where they’ll be. Charlie’s happy about that for a lot of reasons, but none more than the fact that he can meet Nick’s eyes across the room; Wide honey-brown waters sparkling even in the low-light, desire and want swimming below them.
Charlie should look away. He doesn’t.
Not until Olly starts singing anyway.
Olly has a brilliant voice. She’s Queerly Beloved’s lead singer for a reason after all. But sometimes, when she starts into the sadder songs on their setlist, her voice haunts Charlie. It’s light, lilting and soft in the kind of way that makes the hair on your arms stand up. They always linger in Charlie’s mind, haunting the many dark corners of his mind side-by-side with all the other unsettled spirits there.
“I think I’m becoming a conspiracy theorist.
Everyone says that love exists. But I think that it’s a myth.”
Charlie loves and hates when Olly sings this song. Loves it because the song’s immaculate; The Beaches have a talent for being somehow delightfully upbeat and dreadfully earnest, and this song captures that perfectly. But Charlie hates it because the drums don’t come in until the chorus, meaning he’s just sitting there, listening to his sister sing the words he’s lived too many times before.
And doing so under Nick’s unwavering gaze? It’s a special kind of torture.
Charlie still shockingly believes in love. Since it sprouted in his chest at 14, it’s grown like an ume tree. But the first person he ever loved fucking ghosted him, and that moment of heartbreak was enough to bend the trunk’s path. What could have bloomed into something vivid and beautiful instead twists around his heart, scorched and withered by a dozen or so ‘Exes’ who didn’t so much nurture it as they tried to burn it down.
In other words, this song hits way too fucking close to home. If Charlie didn’t love the band, he’d sue them for emotional damage.
His eyes should be on his drums; The drums are where he gets his big feels out, ripped from his head and beaten into submission by the steady rhythm. But instead they keep finding Nick, watching him wide-eyed, in awe of him, like he’s worthy of that.
And every time he sees that glint of want, a line hits that reminds him why he should pretend he never saw it.
‘I think I’m becoming a validation fiend.’ That’s how Charlie’s relationships always start.
‘I must’ve left my self-esteem at the base of your bed-sheets.’ That’s how Charlie’s relationships always end.
“What doesn’t kill you, what doesn’t kill you,
What doesn’t kill you makes you paranoid.”
~🎵~
Nick’s been back in his life for nearly a month now. Charlie thought it would be awkward at first, but he’s slotted into his messages, friend group, and day-to-day routine so perfectly it’s like he never left. They talk about almost everything: The highs and lows of Nick’s days as a teacher, The ups and downs of Charlie’s jumbled schedule. The little sister he still lives with who he loves but sometimes drives him up the wall.
It didn’t take long for Charlie to tell his friends about Nick (Technically Olly told them first but details). And though Tao was ready to send Nick a dozen harsh DMs, his wife Elle managed to convince him to give Nick a chance. Isaac invited Nick to The Mountain Goat’s bi-weekly trivia night, and between his sports knowledge and surprising Tao with his love of early Wes Anderson, he was just another part of their group by the end of the night.
Everything’s great. Nick’s great. But Charlie can’t shake the building tension in his chest.
‘What doesn’t kill you makes you paranoid.’
By the time Charlie’s walking up to Nick after their set, the chorus of that song has been playing on an endless loop. When Nick wraps his strong arms around Charlie and pulls him into the Nelson hugs he’s missed so fucking much, the words echo through him as if sung by a full choir. He should be present, wants to listen to Darcy gleefully recount trolling a bunch of FARTs on Instagram with their increasingly unhinged drag-king looks, or smile whenever he leans into Nick’s side and Isaac shoots him a knowing but approving look.
Charlie brain just wants to be Nick's friend. But Charlie’s heart already wants to be Nick’s everything.
And he already knows how that ends.
Fuck, he needs to get some air. Charlie mutters an excuse, something about needing another drink if Tao is going to keep ranting about the Oscars bullshit politics. He weaves through the crowds, barely managing his PR smile when he runs into a few fans who kindly ask for pictures. He scampers upstairs, barely keeping the sobs down until he slips into one of the private party rooms, collapsing against one of the walls and sliding down to the floor as he lets it all out.
Three and a half weeks.
Three and a half fucking weeks of knowing Nick Nelson; of encouraging messages when he needs them most, hugs that make him feel like all the old jagged parts of him fit with the shiny, tidy new ones, and the kind of friendship he didn’t let himself realize how much he missed until he had it again.
Three and a half weeks after forgiving the man who broke his heart, Charlie already wants to give it to him again.
But he can’t do it. It’s too bruised and battered now. And Nick deserves better than that.
“Charlie?”
Fuck.
There’s a moment where he tells himself to get his shit together. He can’t let Nick see him like this, because sooner or later he’d have to tell him how he got here.
But there’s something in the soft lilt of Nick’s voice that always breaks down those walls before Charlie can even start to build them. When he finally looks at Nick, eyes still wide but the awe has been replaced with unguarded affection, Charlie doesn’t try to be calm and collected. He just lets out a sob and starts to fall apart.
And Nick is there, arms wrapped around him, holding him together.
It comes in cold waves, but he’s blanketed in Nick’s warmth. Tears for his younger self, who deserved so much better, flow like water from a burst pipe, but Nick doesn’t back away.
Nick’s here. Nick stays. And fuck if Charlie knows what to do with that.
He doesn’t say much beyond some whispered comforts until Charlie’s sobs have subsided. He pulls a packet of tissues from his pocket and hands it to Charlie. “I’ve taught 8-year-olds long enough to know I should always carry some with me,” Nick says, and Charlie gives a wet chuckle. Nick’s hand somehow slips into Charlie’s as he wipes away the tears, and doesn’t let go after.
Moments or minutes pass before either of them speak.
“You don’t have to tell me what’s wrong,” Nick says, head leaning into Charlie’s curls. “Just tell me what you need right now. I’ll take care of you.”
Charlie pulls back enough to look at Nick. The haze in Charlie’s eyes blurs the stubble and softens the features enough that it feels like he’s slipped into another time.
Another empty room like this, elegant wood panels and bass thumping through the floor. Nick so close Charlie can see every freckle, tracing them like stars until they lead to his soft pink lips.
“Nick?” Charlie whispers into the space between them.
“Would you kiss me?” a much younger voice echoes through his head.
“Yeah.” Nick says.
And then Charlie leans in, and for a moment there’s nothing but Nick & Charlie.
The kiss is more confident than last time. Nick leans in immediately, so sure as his lips move with Charlie’s. He doesn’t push to deepen it or pull Charlie closer. He just kisses Charlie softly. Gently. Like Charlie isn’t just a means to an end or the answer to an experiment.
Want becomes Need. And that’s when Charlie realizes what he’s done. He jerks his head back, breath ragged again as panic tightens around his lungs.
Nick stays still, but Charlie doesn’t.
Charlie runs.
Too trusting and loving, depending, and kind
Behind every kiss is a jaw that could bite
And maybe that's why I feel safe with bad guys
Because when they hurt me
I won't be surprised
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
Nick looks more than a little confused, wiping his flour covered hands on his apron over and over like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. Charlie can’t blame him. If someone had cried into his shoulder, kissed him, run away, then ghosted him for nearly a week before showing up on his doorstep in the middle of a spring storm, he wouldn’t know what the fuck to say either.
“Sorry for not texting…” is what comes out of his mouth. “I just wanted to talk to you in person.”
Nick seems to suddenly become aware that Charlie, for reasons beyond him, didn’t bother to bring an umbrella and looks like a freshly drenched cat. He places a hesitant hand on Charlie’s shoulder, pulling him across the threshold and into his home. He’s been here once since they became friends (and before he screwed that up). The townhouse is tall and narrow, all cold dark wood endlessly warmed by the small pieces of Nick and his housemate Sai scattered around it. Framed photos of Nick through the years before and after they first knew each other watch Charlie follow Nick up the first set of stairs, and just like the first time he saw them, Charlie wonders about the life they could have had if Nick had stayed. Would Charlie be there on the beach with Nick and Nellie, or be kissing his cheek the day he graduated Uni?
When they reach the living room, Nick asks Charlie to wait there, scampering up the stairs. A few minutes later, he returns with a big fluffy towel, a University of Leeds sweatshirt that looks several sizes too big for Charlie, and comfy pyjama pants with a small pugs face printed all over them.
And a pair of boxers, which nearly send Charlie’s brain to the last place it should be right now.
“Sorry for the, uh, lack of clothing options,” Nick says, hand on the back of his neck. “You can change in the bathroom over here, and I’ll run your clothes through the dryer.”
Charlie just nods, taking the pile Nick hands him and shuffling over to the powder room just past the kitchen. He dries himself as best he can, changing into the clothes he’s definitely not picturing wrapped around Nick’s strong arms and thick thighs. When he finally comes out, he finds Nick waiting in the hallway. Nick takes his wet clothes and throws them in the dryer while Charlie wanders into the living room, lit only by the soft yellow lights shining in from the kitchen. Light brown dough is rolled out flat on the counter, a small box of cookie cutters next to it. Charlie breathes in the scent of ginger and feels a brief moment of calm come over him.
But then Nick returns, and suddenly Charlie feels simultaneously calm and cold.
“I’m sorry!” Charlie blurts out. He doesn’t know how he expected Nick to react, but a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips wasn’t it.
“I thought we had a rule about the S-word,” Nick says, the smile falling away as fast as it came “But if either of us should be sorry, it’s me.”
“Nick–”
“I’m so sorry, Charlie! You were upset and I was supposed to be comforting you but instead, I… We kissed. And I know how fucked up that is! But fuck, Charlie, I’ve known I was bi for over a decade and the second you looked at me I had a proper full-on gay crisis all over again–”
“Um, Nick?” Charlie says, leaning a little closer.
“–But that’s not an excuse! You were vulnerable and I didn’t mean to but I took advantage of that–”
“Nick, please–”
–And I know you probably don’t want to ever talk to me again, which is fair! But I had to at least say sorry–”
“Nick!” Charlie interjects, hands gently clutching Nick’s arms now, Nick’s eyes finally snapping to his.
–And see if maybe there’s a chance we could still be friends.”
Charlie gently but firmly cups Nick’s cheeks. He shows the restraint he should’ve last Saturday, looking into Nick’s eyes and waiting for consent. Nick nods, and Charlie presses up on his tiptoes and leans in.
Charlie’s spent much of the back-half of his life kissing people. Not to brag, but he considers himself a bit of an expert. Every kiss he’s had, good or bad, has a rhythm to it. Ben kissed erratically, like a DJ’s experimental beatbed. James was more steady, a simple half-beat that never built. Charlie’s experienced every rhythm of kiss, some aggressive and forceful, others low and slow.
But Nick kisses like the first strums of Charlie’s favourite songs. A slow chord progression that seeps into his soul like the first warm breeze of spring. His hands wrap around Charlie’s body with a gentle sureness like the first bassline, his lips opening enough to let their tongues meet with the perfectly timed clatter of drums and symbols. He gets why Nick’s kisses lingered in his memories, like a song he could never get out of his head.
The rhythm fades as Nick pulls back, still close enough that Charlie can feel the ghost of his breath warm against his lips.
“I wanted to kiss you…” Charlie whispers into the space between them. “I wanted you to kiss me too. But then I–”
“–Did what I did to you.”
“Yeah.”
Nick steps back, but trails a hand down Charlie’s arms until he can lace their fingers together. He leads Charlie to the couch, and they sit down, their clasped hands the only thing sitting in the space between them.
“I’m not mad at you for running,” Nick says. “I’m not mad at you at all. A little hurt, maybe, but I know this… us… it’s complicated. And you were already so upset that I get why it was all a lot. That’s why I’m sorry, Charlie. Because you were in a bad way and I made it worse.”
“I kissed you. I wanted to kiss you.”
“And I kissed you back. I wanted to kiss you too, but I shouldn’t have.”
“Well, I shouldn’t have kissed you either, so… I think our apologies just kinda cancel each other out.”
Nick chuckles softly. “Is that how that works?”
“It is now,” Charlie says with a small grin. One that doesn’t last once the awkward settles back over them again.
“Why shouldn’t you have kissed me?” Nick asks eventually, not demanding or expecting.
“I… There’s no one like you, Nick,” Charlie says, eyes cast down. “No one I know is kind like you. Sweet like you. Gentle like you. We didn’t talk for 12 years and the moment you came back into my life, it felt like you never left. You’re… You’re everything. But just like back then, I got too greedy. I wanted more. I wanted you.”
“You can have me, Charlie.”
Charlie’s head whips up to meet Nick’s gaze, and fuck if he doesn’t melt then and there. Something swims beneath the warm honey now, but it isn’t just want anymore.
It’s need. It’s hope. It’s something Charlie knows he’s already feeling but that he wouldn’t dare name.
“I can’t though,” Charlie whispers, the corners of his eyes stinging. “You deserve someone who can be everything, and that’s… that’s not me. I know what happens when I try to give people that.”
“What happens?”
Charlie looks away again. He couldn’t bear seeing the moment Nick realizes what Charlie will do to him.
“I find a guy who seems kind, and sweet, and gentle. I kiss them, and give them everything I am. But then I stop being everything and start being too much. I’m too trusting and loving. I’m too busy, too focused on work, too neurotic and anxious and… and messy. And suddenly soft kisses are sharp bites. They stop caring about what I want to give and just… take. The few good guys I’ve met all turned out bad eventually, and when I realized the common fucking denominator was me, I stopped looking for the good ones, and just stuck to the bad. At least then I wouldn’t be surprised.”
Charlie takes a deep breath, mostly to push down the sob crawling up his throat.
“I know you’re not bad, Nick,” Charlie continues. “But if I… If we… You’re better than good, Nick. I don’t want to make you worse.”
Nick’s quiet, which makes it all feel so much heavier. Charlie thinks he should let go of Nick’s hand, say his last goodbye and walk out of Nick’s life while he still can. He’d rather be the one who leaves this time.
But when he tries, Nick holds firm. Charlie makes himself look at Nick again. He can handle the anger or the pity. What he can’t handle is what he finds:
Need. Hope. Something Charlie realizes Nick is already feeling but that he can’t speak into existence.
“With all due respect, Charlie, I think you’re wrong.”
“How can I be wrong? I’m talking about me.”
“No, you’re talking about who shitty guys told you you were,” Nick says firmly, shuffling closer until they’re pressed together, clasped hands balanced between their touching thighs. “You’re not the common denominator, they are; A bunch of tossers who didn’t even bother seeing who you really are.”
“And you do?”
“I do. And to paraphrase the smartest, kindest, and frankly hottest man I’ve ever known: ‘There’s no one like you, Charlie. You’re everything.’”
“I’m… Nick, I’m…” Charlie stammers, the fight he tells himself he needs to spare Nick never coming.
“You think I’m kind, and sweet, and gentle, but I’ve got nothing on you,” Nick continues, a hand coming up to wipe a tear from Charlie’s cheek. “You’ve been through so much pain, but instead of wallowing in it, you turned it into something that’s made so many lives better. Your kindness builds support for people who need them most. Your sweetness has convinced thousands of people to give their time to others. You fight with your music and your words, but you’re gentle with them too. You’re not too much Charlie. And even if you were, I don’t think I could ever get enough of you.”
“I don’t– sniffle –I don’t want to turn you bad, Nick.”
Nick lets go of Charlie’s hand so he can gently cup both of Charlie’s cheeks. He leans in and up, pressing a soft kiss to Charlie’s forehead, then the tip of his nose, then finally, a kiss to his lips, so brief yet endlessly meaningful.
“That’s not your choice, Charlie. Those assholes chose to be selfish and bad. But I choose to be kind, sweet, and gentle. The only part of me you get to choose is if you’ll have me.”
Charlie’s mind doesn’t have a chance to choose, because his heart chooses first. Charlie surges forward, his lips crashing into Nick’s over and over again. He still thinks it’s a bad idea, that someway, somehow he’ll fuck this all up. But there’s a small bloom of something in his chest. Something green growing from the ashes of all the infernos Charlie thought had consumed his heart.
It’s Nick who breaks the kiss again, but he only pulls his lips back, his forehead still pressed against Charlie’s, his fingers carding through Charlie’s long curls.
“There’s no rush, Charlie,” Nick whispers. “I’m still your friend. I’m still here. And as long as you’ll have me, I’ll stay. But the rest is up to you.”
“Up to me?” Charlie asks.
“You said the guys you’ve been with take,” Nick says. “I’ll give as much or as little as you want. And I only want you to give what you feel like you can give when you feel ready to give it. I don’t want you to feel like you need to give anything you don’t want to. I’m yours, Char. I’m staying.”
It takes a moment for the name to register, Charlie too lost in the warmth surrounding him.
“Char?”
Nick blushes a little. “Oh… Um, sorry. Just slipped out.”
“Oh my god, say it again!”
“Nope.”
“But I like it… And I like you.”
Nick’s expression somehow becomes softer. “I like you too… Char.”
Neither seems rushed to leave this moment between them, until a crack of thunder reverberates through it. Charlie jumps, Nick instinctively pulling him closer. They both turn to the front window, heavy rain rapping against the glass.
“Maybe you should stay here tonight,” Nick says. “It’s safer.”
“Probably for the best,” Charlie says. “Olly’s boyfriend Alfie is staying over at our place tonight anyway. They’re… Well, I’m happy she has someone who makes her happy. I just wish that happiness wasn’t so loud.”
Nick lets out a small giggle, then another. Charlie swats his shoulder.
“Hey, you try living with a horny teenage rockstar! I swear if we weren’t renting our flat I’d soundproof the walls around her room.”
Nick’s full on laughing now, leaning into Charlie’s side, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. Charlie holds him too, letting all the tension out of his chest laugh by laugh. He’s okay. He’s still terrified, but he’s okay. Nick’s okay. They’re both staying.
And when Charlie wakes up the next morning, arms wrapped around Nick, sunlight making the strawberry-blond swoop and peaceful expression on his face all the more beautiful, he knows what’s blooming in his chest now.
Need. Hope. Something Charlie’s not ready to say yet, but knows him and Nick will slowly nurture and grow.
Baby, don't make me spell it out for you
All of the feelings that I've got for you
Can't be explained, but I can try for you
Yeah, baby, don't make me spell it out for you
You keep on asking me the same questions (why?)
And second guessing all my intentions
Should know by the way I use my compression
That you've got the answers to my confessions
There’s a lot that Charlie’s never understood about dating.
Now granted, he doesn’t have a lot of good dating experience to pull from; his previous 12 ‘dating’ experiences look like a charcuterie board of hot dumpster fires when he lays them out in therapy. Sure, he can look at what his friends have done, but there’s not exactly a lot of consistency there: Tao & Elle courted at the speed of two drowsy, indecisive snails. Tara & Darcy went from ‘What do you mean I’m a lesbian?’ to the living embodiment of u-hauling before they even finished high school. Tori and Michael, are, well, Tori & Michael. And Charlie really tries to not think about what Olly & Alfie get up to.
All he knows is that no brother should ever know that his sister’s safeword is.
The point is, this whole (dating? Courtship? Mating ritual?) thing he and Nick have been easing into since the night he stayed over is uncharted territory for Charlie. Nick’s been incredible, letting Charlie take the lead on everything from physical affection to not labeling the time they spend together as dates to keeping this whole thing on the down low. He’s been considerate, patient, and incredibly thoughtful, all things Charlie really doesn’t know what to do with coming from someone he’s incredibly into. Even weirder, being incredibly into Nick feels good. Ben touching him always felt acidic, James half-heartedly agreeing to dates: cold and empty. But everything with Nick feels warm and soft.
And Hot. And herein lies the problem.
See, Charlie likes sex. He used to hate it, back when all he’d really experienced was being some dickhead’s living breathing sex-toy. But after Charlie booted ex #12 out of his life, he decided he was going to swear-off dating and spend the foreseeable future working through his sexual baggage. He called it his sexual walkabout. Sahar called it his ‘slut era’. Darcy called it something too graphic to put into words.
And it worked. Who knew that setting boundaries and being more selective than ‘This emotionally unavailable guy looked at me!’could help someone learn to enjoy sex. Besides, with how often he’s working and travelling, keeping things casual worked for him. He even found himself a few ‘special acquaintances’ (Sahar calls them his fuck-buddies. Whatever you’re thinking Darcy called them? Think more explicit) spread across the globe.
Pez Okonjo spread out beneath him in London. Kit and Theo worshipped every inch of him in Paris. Charlie even found himself tied to a bed in Ottawa as Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov brought him to the edge and held him there for hours at a time.
But none of those nights were half as hot as Nick just existing. And it’s been driving him crazy.
Nick fresh from work, big hands and toned forearms covered in glitter? Hot.
Nick stretching in the morning, the soft curves of his tummy poking out from where his shirt rides up? Scorching.
His ass? Just his ass? In literally anything? Might as well throw Charlie into the sun.
Charlie’s been thinking about sex with Nick, which is a lot lately; One fan account that tracks every possible statistic related to RE-COVER-Y noted that Charlie’s song choices have been ‘trending 37% hornier since early April’. But the thing is, Nick isn’t one of Charlie’s ‘special acquaintances’. Charlie wants more than a great fuck or someone to take him apart: he wants Nick, in any and every way he’ll have him. He just hasn’t worked up the courage to say that yet.
But it’s fine. ‘There’s no rush,’ Nick had said, and Charlie knows he means it. Besides, he’s enjoying the innocence of where they're at. It’s all soft touches and kisses that grow more and more heated until they both get too hot and bothered, Nick always keeping his hands above Charlie’s waist. Maybe that’s why it’s so much hotter than anything he’s had before: Because Nick touches him with as much care and kindness as he does need, hope, and– NOPE, we’re still not ready to think about that other word–
“Charlie? What do you think?”
Charlie blinks once, then twice, then a third time just because he’s fully forgotten he was in the middle of a meeting with the band and creative team. They’ve been planning the biggest fundraiser they’ve ever organized: RE-COVER-Y Live From London Pride: Telethon Concert and Fundraiser for the Okonjo Foundation LGBTQIA+ Shelter Network, and before Charlie’s thoughts fucked off into a much hornier place, they were going over the final logistics. Olly, Darcy, Sahar, Tao, Elle, and Isaac are staring at him, most with knowing grins on their faces, Tao looking eternally confused and annoyed as always.
“Care to share with the class?” Darcy says, waggling their eyebrows.
“Nothing that wouldn’t violate our ‘no bedroom talk during official meetings’ rule,” Charlie replies with a casual shrug, though he knows he can’t wipe the dopey smile off his face. “Anyway, sorry, what were we talking about?”
“Your birthday party tomorrow night?” Olly says. “I was about to go over the plans for tomorrow night but now I’m wondering if we just toss the whole thing and just give you Nick with a bow wrapped around his co–”
“NOPE!” Charlie and Tao yell in unison. Olly holds up her hands in mock surrender.
“Look, not that it’s anyone’s business, but Nick and I are keeping things very PG,” Charlie adds. “So y’all can return to focusing on having fun tomorrow night.”
“As RE-COVER-Y’s publicist who literally had a stack of NDA’s made up just for you, I approve of you taking things slow,” Isaac says like the chill professional he is. “But as Charlie’s friend, ”I bet £50 it happens first thing tomorrow morning. Natural light? Good morning kisses? Typical romantic Charlie.”
Charlie’s never seen a group of people whip out their wallets quicker. Traitors.
“I bet they’re fucking in the closest closet by nine-thirty!” yells Darcy, throwing £40 down.
“No no, Charlie wouldn’t! He knows what Alfie and I do in that shower,” Olly interjects, dropping £50 onto the rapidly growing pot. “My bets that Charlie’s showed Nick his ‘toy box’ by nine and has at least one of them in–”
“Guys, stop!” Tao yells, everyone’s heads whipping around to look at his resting glare. “We shouldn’t be speculating about Charlie’s sex-life,” Tao says, crossing his arms. “But since we’re taking bets, I’m betting £50 they bugger off by nine for birthday sex.”
“Et tu, Tao!” Charlie protests. “And really? No one thinks I’ll make it past tomorrow? I have plenty of self control, you know. For starters, I don’t call you all numptys every time I see you!”
“Well come on then, Mr. Charlie “master of restraint” Spring,” Elle says with a sly smile. “Put your money where your mouth is… before your mouth ends up all over Nick.”
Whatever. He’s so sure he can control his libido, he joins in his friends’ very inappropriate betting pool; £50 saying he can make it until the end of pride month, easily.
~🎵~
Tao wins the bet, and it’s entirely Nick’s fault.
Well, technically it’s Charlie’s fault. He really does have plenty of restraint and discipline. But as it turns out, Nick’s choice of outfit for the party is disciplined Charlie’s kryptonite. He walks into Charlie’s flat with a manically grinning Darcy, the buttons of his red and black flannel barely holding it together. The top buttons undone, revealing a small patch of red chest hair Charlie just wants to bury his face in. But he can barely keep his eyes on it because they keep drifting down to the black skinny jeans that leave very little to Charlie’s suddenly very active imagination.
“Hi,” Charlie breathes out as Nick steps a little closer.
“Hi,” Nick replies softly, stepping into Charlie’s space.
It’s a new thing they’re trying; being casually affectionate around friends. Charlie thought he’d be way more self-conscious about it, but all he can think about is the thin line of gold black eyeliner and small smattering of glitter spread across Nick’s cheeks, making the nebula of freckles sparkle like starlight.
Charlie brings a hand to the back of Nick’s neck, fingers slipping into the hair there and pulling him in for a searing kiss. Nick is startled, but recovers quickly enough, thumbs finding the dimples on Charlie’s hips and resting there like they were sculpted just for him.
After that kiss, Charlie spends the rest of the social portion of the evening almost always touching Nick in some way. Charlie’s hand always finds the small of his back, Nick’s fingers circling around him to pull him in close. None of his friends call attention to it, thank fuck, but they keep shooting him these little smiles like they’re just genuinely happy for him. The only time it comes up is when Tao, normally as big a fan of hugs as he is of Charlie dating a ‘Rugby lad’, pulls Charlie into a tight hug and whispers ‘I’m so happy for you. You found someone who deserves you.’
Charlie doesn’t cry, but only just. He just looks across the room to where Nick is having some heartfelt conversation with Alfie and Olly and whispers ‘Yeah. I did.”
When 8:55 rolls around, Charlie tells Tao “Take Elle out with your winnings. Somewhere nice.” before walking over to Nick, asking if they can talk for a moment in his room, and flipping off all his friends as they whoop, cheer, and groan about handing over their winnings to Tao.
When the door closes, Nick stands in the middle of Charlie’s room, his blush obvious even in the lowlight. “Needed a breather?” Nick asks, always taking care of him.
“No,” Charlie says, placing a hand on Nick’s chest and slowly but firmly pushing him backwards until his knees hit the back of the bed. Nick eases himself back onto the mattress, eyes blown wide, breath hitching as Charlie drops to his knees. “I want you.”
“Are you sure? I’m happy waiting as long as you need.” Nick asks, and god Charlie loves likes him so fucking much.
“I know you are,” Charlie says, his fingers settling on Nick’s thick thighs. “But I’m happy, I promise. And I’m ready for this if you are.”
“Yeah,” Nick breathes out. “Yeah, very— Fuck, come here–”
Charlie’s not prepared for Nick to lean forward, wrap those arms around him, and pull him down on top of him. If the first kiss tonight was searing, this one feels like a volcanic eruption. Heat shoots through Charlie’s nerves, coils tightly in his stomach. He feels Nick hard and ready, breaking the kiss to moan as their erections brush together.
Nick pulls back enough to look Charlie in the eye, like he needs to be sure he wants this too. But then he’s smiling wide, gently brushing an errant curl from Charlie’s face and running his fingers slowly down his jawline.
“I– I want you.”
“Then have me. I’m yours.”
~🎵~
“Have you ever thought about writing original music?”
The question comes as Charlie’s busy kissing the place where the softness of Nick’s stomach meets the hard muscle of the abs underneath. He pauses, tilting his head up to look at Nick.
“Sorry,” Nick says, cringing slightly. “Didn’t mean to ruin the moment. Ignore me.”
Charlie sighs fondly, crawling off of Nick and onto the bed next to him. Nick turns his body to look at him.
“First off, I think we need to start fining each other for S-words. We could probably cover the shelter’s monthly food costs,” Charlie says. “Second, you didn’t ruin the moment. I have literally the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen, naked in my bed, who made me cum… Three times in the last 24 hours?”
“Five. Twice in the shower this morning.”
“So you agree you couldn’t ruin the moment even if you tried?”
“Well, I did just bring up work,” Nick says. “Plus it’s your art. It’s not my business what you do or don’t do with it. I guess I’ve just been wondering because you’re like, mind-blowingly talented.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere, Nelson,” Charlie says, leaning in for a slow, simmering kiss.
“I have written a bunch of original music. All of us have,” Charlie says when he pulls back. “We’ve gotten offers from, like, eight different labels over the years. But all of them wanted us to tone down our queerness or stop supporting ‘extremist causes’. As if supporting basic human rights is an extreme take. Fucking capitalism.”
“Fair point. But couldn’t you just release them on your own?”
Charlie pauses for a few moments, gathering his thoughts. They’ve all considered this, obviously. But what they’ve been doing; covers, protests, collaborating with all kinds of artists, dedicating themselves to helping others. It’s worked for them for so long. They know that once they start releasing their own music, it means everything changes. Albums, tours, the focus shifting to them and away from the people who need it most.
And as if all that weren’t enough, a fair few of the songs Charlie’s written are about the man now patiently watching him. About the good, the bad, and the ugly of them. He’s only just started sharing himself with Nick, sharing this part of his heart openly, at least around the people he trusts. But putting that much of himself out there is kind of terrifying.
He explains as much to Nick, surprising himself with how easily the whole truth just freely floats out of his mouth like he’d never locked it away. Nick listens, smile slowly widening, even when Charlie mentions how many not so nice songs he’s written about him. When Charlie finally finishes, Nick just leans forward and presses the softest kiss to his lips.
“I get what you mean, at least a little,” Nick says. “After… After I left Truham. Left you… I locked away that part of me that loved you. I thought I was better that way, just being Nick Nelson, rugby player. Honestly, it hurt too much to think about what I’d done, and who I’d let slip through my fingers. What I didn’t realise until I was older was that it wasn’t just you I’d locked away; it was me too. I wasn’t really Nick Nelson, just some version of him. And the idea of letting people see the real me; disaster bisexual, neurodivergent, messy… It was terrifying. Until I saw you again.”
Charlie barely holds in his gasp. They’ve never talked about this since that day at the shelter: Nick watching Charlie through the years on RE-COVER-Y.
“I remember the first video I watched was that drag number you did for pride a couple years back. ‘What’s Your Pleasure’”, Nick continues. “You, shy, quiet Charlie Spring, were there on stage, dancing and singing and just so… free. Like, I know performer Charlie isn’t the same as this Charlie,” Nick places a hand over Charlie’s heart. “But your heart is in everything you do. And your kindness, care, and passion is there too. You talk about your sexuality and your struggles with mental health and your ED, even though it's hard to share those vulnerable parts of yourself, because you know it helps people struggling with those things feel less alone. And it helped me too. You taught me how to be less ashamed of myself. You helped me find the courage to come out, and get tested for ADHD, and just… Be myself. I know I’m rambling but what I’m trying to say is that even if sharing those songs with the world changes things, it won’t stop you from helping people. You help people just by being you. And I can’t imagine a universe where you sharing more of yourself doesn’t make everyone who hears it feel a little less alone, and a little more brave.”
For the first time in longer than Charlie can remember, his mind goes clear. The eternally spinning tornado of thoughts subsides, swirling insecurities fluttering away like leaves on the breeze. The only thing left gracefully floating through his mind is love.
Charlie realizes, beyond all reason and doubt and the million fucking reasons he’s given himself not to, Charlie loves himself.
He loves who he is, who he’s become. He loves his body, and most of his mind. He loves the person his friends see. He loves the version of himself he lets the world see through his music and activism.
And he’s completely in love with Nick Nelson. With the strawberry-blond swoop of his hair and the way light twinkles across the warm honey brown of his eyes. With his big heart and endless kindness. With the way he gives care so openly and loves so honestly.
Charlie opens his mouth, hoping he can get that word out.
“Be my boyfriend.” comes out instead. Okay, so maybe saying that word for the first time is easier thought than said. But asking Nick to be his boyfriend feels like a leap Charlie’s ready to take.
And judging by the way Nick’s beaming at him, he’s ready to catch him.
Nick gently cups Charlie’s face, even though he’s giddily shaking with excitement, and kisses Charlie tenderly, only stopping when he can’t contain his smile. Charlie’s never smiled this wide either, but it feels so easy now.
“Yes,” Nick says, his lips barely apart from Charlie’s. “Yes, I’ll be your boyfriend.”
“Oh thank god. I was worried I got all the paperwork ready for nothing.”
Nick bursts into laughter, and Charlie can’t help but follow. He’s laughing and happy and suddenly being hoisted off the mattress and into the air.
“I’m your boyfriend! You’re my boyfriend! We’re boyfriends!”
“Finally!” Charlie hears through the wall, followed by some shushing and giggles.
Nick gently places Charlie down on the mattress, settling over top of and kissing him again and again and again.
“Someday, I want to hear those songs you wrote about us,” Nick whispers, trailing kisses from Charlie’s lips to the sensitive spot just behind his ear. “But for now I’m happy listening to the beautiful sounds you make,” Nick whispers before gently bringing Charlie’s lobe between his teeth. “And you’re so beautiful, Char.”
It’s impressive just how good Nick’s gotten at pulling those sounds from Charlie’s lips in as little as 12 hours. Every kiss is precise, every nibble just the right amount of pressure. Nick maps out the topography of Charlie’s body with care and attention to detail, following the lines of his chest and abs to his most sensitive spots.
A nibble to his nipple makes Charlie’s breath hitch.
The graze of teeth along his adonis belt makes Charlie moan.
The soft kiss to the criss-crossing scars on Charlie’s inner thighs makes him gasp and shudder.
And when Nick gets his mouth around Charlie, taking him to the hilt in a single fluid motion, Darcy would be proud of the string of expletives that falls from his mouth.
Nick takes care of Charlie with his mouth, then his fingers. Charlie feels the need in every touch, and the hope in every kiss.
And as Nick makes love to him, and Charlie lets himself say ‘I love Nick Nelson’ over and over in his head, he hears soft chords coming together.
“Hey Hi Hello Theys, Gays, and Gorgeous Folx!”
The crowd roars with excitement. Pez Okonjo doesn’t even flinch, just beams back at them and twirls in their pearlescent sequined dress.
“Thank you once again for joining us today at RE-COVER-Y Live From London Pride: Telethon Concert and Fundraiser for the Okonjo Foundation LGBTQIA+ Shelter Network! Today we’ve been joined by some of the best and brightest artists in queer performance: Chappell Roan! Doechi! XG! Janelle Monáe! Conan Gray! TERFwar!”
The cheers somehow grow even louder. Olly and Sahar grip Charlie’s hands a little tighter while Darcy just bounces, eager to get on with it. Every part of today went off without a hitch. They finished soundcheck hours ago, tuned and retuned instruments, and spent two hours with Elle getting into the outstanding outfits and marvellous makeup she designed just for today. Now all they have left to do is wait for their moment, get on stage, and play.
And one other thing, but Charlie will get to that soon enough.
“And thanks to all of you out there, and everyone watching from around the world, we’ve raised an absolutely stupendous amount of money for the Okonjo Foundation LGBTQIA+ Shelter Network!” Pez continues. “But before we announce the total, there’s a very special group I'd like to bring out here! Please give your love to the founders of RE-COVER-Y and the fabulous foursome known as Queerly Beloved: Olly Spring, Darcy Jones, Sahar Zahid, and Charlie Spring!”
Charlie can only hear his heartbeat as the cheers drown out everything else. Stepping out on the main stage at London Pride, thousands of people cheering for them, feels anything but normal.
But then he meets the gaze of his band-mates: Darcy, the person who’s helped him find joy in every queer corner of the universe. Sahar, the badass who taught Charlie to embrace every part of him. And Olly, his bubbly baby sister, who he’s so grateful just to know. And then his eyes find the familiar strawberry-blond swoop in the front row, honey-brown eyes twinkling under the stage lights. Nick stands with Tori, Michael, Elle, Isaac, Tara, Imogen, and Alfie, cheering them on like always.
None of it feels normal, but as he looks at the people who’ve loved him despite him being anything but, Charlie Spring finds he couldn’t give less of a shit about being normal.
Pez sweeps each of them into a hug, whispering words of congratulations to each of them. They all stand arm in arm, waving to their adoring crowd.
“Over the last 10 years, Queerly Beloved has been on the front-lines of activism and ally-ship in the UK and around the world!” Pez continues. “Through RE-COVER-Y, they’ve raised millions of pounds for worthy causes of all kinds, including the Okonjo Foundation Shelters, as well as sharing their platform with emerging queer artists from all corners of the globe! I’ve had the distinct delight of collaborating with them many times over the years, including organizing today’s telethon concert! And now that they’re here with me, I’d like them to help me announce our current total!”
Pez hands a card to Olly, the four of them gathering around her eagerly. A quick glance at each other, small smiles of hope that all the work they’ve put in, both across the last decade and in planning all 12 hours of today’s fundraiser.
And then Olly flips open the card, and Charlie drops to his knees.
He couldn’t stop the flood of tears if he tried, his body going limp as joy overwhelms him. “£27,590,000!” he hears Olly yell through her own tears before she kneels down to Charlie, wrapping her arms around him. Soon he’s surrounded by his bandmates, his found family, and Charlie feels nothing but the warmth of love in every part of him.
Eventually they stand, hugging Pez again before they grab their instruments. Charlie takes his place behind the drums. He looks up, finding Nick’s eyes again. He’s smiling at Charlie so freely, eyes full of Need, hope, and a love they haven’t spoken in words yet, but that’s been present in every moment and memory they’ve shared since they met again. Charlie almost mouths the words then and there, but instead just gives Nick a small smile.
He can wait one more hour.
~🎵~
As their set is winding down, Olly looks to Charlie. One breath in, one breath out. Breathing in the joy on Nick’s face, the love Charlie feels for his boyfriend, and pushing out the anxieties that once hung over his mind like a never-ending storm. He nods at Olly, who smiles and turns back to the adoring crowd.
“We got a special treat for you,” Olly says into the mic. “Our drummer, my brother, the stupidly talented Charlie Spring, is going to come on down and sing an original song for us.”
The crowd hollers his name, anticipation booming in waves like thunder. As Olly takes Charlie’s place behind the drum kit, Charlie picks up the worn, sticker-covered Gibson, hugging the instrument that helped lead him out of the darkness as he steps into the light.
Thousands of people are looking at him, millions if he counts everyone watching the stream, but his eyes only look for one person.
Blue meets honey-brown, and for the first time, Charlie really sees it all: the road they started walking down on a distant January day, the moment their paths diverged. But even when they were a vast distance apart, they were unknowingly moving towards something bright and warm on the horizon. Their roads met again at the beginning of Spring, and as winter faded, something grew under the warm sun. Need. Hope. Love.
Charlie has spent much of his life running from love. But now he can see that he was always running back to Nick.
“I wrote this song for someone very dear to me,” Charlie says, eyes never leaving Nick’s. “Someone I love.”
Charlie can’t hear Nick’s heart stop over the crowd, but he feels it. His heart stops too.
But then Nick’s beaming at him, eyes sparkling with tears.
‘I love you, Charlie,’ Nick mouths. And Charlie lets the warmth rush through him as he begins to strum.
“Spring into summer, and the winter's gone.
I try to hold on to it, but the current's too strong.
Somebody finds me in the state I am.
Love you like I mean it when I know I can't.”
Sahar and Darcy ease themselves into the harmony, Olly adding a slow and steady rhythm.
“Hold it against me, cool to the touch.
Nobody knows what it's like to be us.
Somebody finds me in the shallow end.
Love you like I mean it just because I can.”
He looks to Nick again, swallowing a chuckle as his boyfriend leans against Isaac, swooning.
“Bridge over water, I am jumpin’ off.
Taking a picture of all the people close to us.
Head below the surface, almost never certain of the truth.
I'm always, forever, runnin' back to you.”
Charlie doesn’t know if he’s ever sounded better. Maybe it’s how much this song means to him, maybe it’s that he somehow convinced his bandmates to help him make this big gesture.
Maybe he’s just in love.
“You're always gonna be someone that I want.
We have too many years between us.
If I could jump into the past, I'd only change one thing:
I'd never hurt you first, I'd never let you leave.
And now I'm here forever, runnin' back to you.”
The other instruments fade for a moment, the crowd along with them. For the briefest of moments, it’s just him, Nick, and the lingering wisps of a dream.
“Summer is falling, it's a distant dream
If I turn around, you're running back to me.”
The others join back in, and Charlie slowly sings out the chorus is lost in an ocean of cheering fans. Charlie smiles through every word, heart beating with every note, until finally it’s over. The audience roars for him, a giddy giggle bubbling out of him as Darcy tackles him into a hug, lifting him off his feet. Olly and Sahar wrap their arms around him from behind him. He knows this was for him; a grand gesture hopefully worthy of everything he’s feeling for the love he thought he’d lost. But as his friends surround him again, he finds himself realizing that love isn’t really something that can be lost. It’s ever present, surrounding him, given and taken and tethering him to those most dear.
“Now lets finish off strong,” Olly says to them when they finally break apart. “Then Charlie can go get his man.”
And they do. The rest of their set is a surprise trio of singles, the crowd eagerly eating up each one. Tomorrow they’ll formally announce their first album, and their lives will change all over again. But all Charlie cares about as he steps off the stage is getting to Nick.
He sees the strawberry-blond swoop as he reaches the bottom of the stairs, Nick at the head of their group of partners and friends. They all rush forward at once, everyone hugging and congratulating each other, all pointedly looking away from where Nick and Charlie stand, looking at each other with wonderstruck eyes and dopey grins.
“That song. It’s, well…” Nick trails off, face rapidly reddening with a blush. “I was going to say amazing but holy fuck, Char, that feels like an understatem–
Charlie cuts off the ramble with a kiss, feeling every gram of love he poured into the song flowing from his lips. Nick smiles into the kiss, hands sliding down Charlie’s backside until he suddenly hoists him up, Charlie wrapping his legs around Nick’s waist as he yelps in panic.
“Nick!! Don’t drop me!!” Charlie yelps.
“I love you, Char.” Nick replies, pressing another kiss to his lips.
“I love you, Nick.” Charlie says. He can’t stop smiling, loving the warmth of Nick’s strong hands under his thighs. Loving the smile that greets him. Loving the strawberry-blond swoop and the twinkling of his warm honey brown of his eyes.
Because for all the pain and heartache he felt on the road leading back to Nick Nelson, loving him is the easiest thing in the universe.
In any universe, he imagines.