Chapter Text
Nick Nelson’s first day at the University of Leeds goes pretty much exactly how he expects it to – full of fear and overwhelm. As soon as his mum drives away, Nick feels lost at sea. The life he knows, in all its wonderful, stressful, uncertain glory, comes to an end with the click of his new bedroom door closing behind him.
He doesn't quite know what to do with himself. His new flatmates are arriving too, milling around with their families, hidden away in their own rooms as they settle in and unpack.
Nick sits on the unfamiliar, unmade bed and stares at all of the boxes piled against the wall. His chest feels tight, and there's a lump in his throat that he just can't swallow down. The only thing he can think of to do is cry. He lets himself for a few short minutes, and then he digs his phone from his pocket and calls Charlie.
The rest of the week follows a similar pattern. Nick walks around campus for Welcome Week with the same feeling of wrongness thrumming through his whole body, and then he comes home and phones Charlie, or his mum, or both, for a dose of familiarity. He's never been great with change, but this is a whole different level. He misses his mum tapping away on her iPad as they pass the time watching telly together on the sofa. Sometimes, in the quiet moments, he hears the phantom click-clack of paws on the floor before realising that his dogs are 200 miles away. He aches with the fact that he can't walk ten minutes down the road and be in the arms of his anchor. Charlie is the only person who has ever grounded him, ever made him feel like he mattered, and he doesn’t know what to do with himself without that being accessible every day.
In those moments, Charlie is always on the other end of the phone. It's not the same, and it's not enough, but it's something. Sometimes, Nick thinks about how close he came to losing Charlie earlier in the year, how he nearly fucked up so badly that he might not have even had phone calls and texts. He supposes, at least, that it could be worse.
Nick doesn’t settle in week two, either. He goes out with his flatmates a couple of times, but he doesn’t enjoy himself and so he stops. They’re weird company. Or, not weird, but not what he’s used to. One of them, Miles, gives Nick the creeps to the point he actually feels uncomfortable being around him, so he spends a lot of time in his room on his own.
His one saving grace in those first couple of weeks is rugby. Or, he thinks it will be. He joins the gym on campus and goes nearly every day before the try-outs for the uni rugby team. Those sessions are the first hint of feeling like himself that he's had since he arrived in Leeds, and it’s a big relief. He’s self-aware enough to know that he's never had a particularly strong sense of self, especially in the last few years, but he at least knows how he feels when he plays rugby. He feels free and strong and like he's good for something. Helping a team, scoring, working towards a common goal – that's something he can do.
Or, at least, it was at Truham. The feeling is abruptly and dizzyingly stripped away from him the first time he plays rugby at Leeds University. Nick was so convinced at secondary school that he was good at this, that he was special, that he contributed something to his team. He was the fucking captain, for God’s sake. He didn’t get that for free.
Here, though, he realises that he’s nothing more than mediocre. He's smaller than half the guys he's sharing a field with, and weaker, and definitely, definitely slower. He’s always thought he was good at rugby, but now he's wondering if it had been a case of big fish, small pond. He's completely lost in the crowd throughout the trials, barely creating any chances, fumbling the ball more than once, and certainly not scoring. By the time the session comes to an end, Nick feels a little shell-shocked, a little unsteady on his feet, and a lot like he's just fucked up the only chance he had to fit in here.
“It's okay,” Charlie reassures him on the phone that night, and Nick wishes more than ever that he could be wrapped up in his boyfriend’s arms. “Thank you for phoning me. I’m proud of you, Nick.”
Nick makes a noise of protest. It had taken Charlie ringing him three times before Nick had answered. He’d gone quiet after the trial session, and Charlie had obviously sensed something was wrong. The last thing Nick had wanted was to talk about it, but he knew that he needed to at least try for Charlie. He deserved better than Nick’s silence. Again.
“Nick?” Charlie prompts when he doesn’t respond. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Nick pauses. He doesn’t, really. But – well. Charlie. “I don’t really know,” he answers, as honestly as he can. “I just feel a bit, like, overwhelmed by it, I guess.”
“That’s okay,” Charlie assures him. “It’s all so new and different, it makes sense that it’s scary right now. It’ll settle, I think.”
Nick doesn’t really believe that, but Charlie could read his fucking shopping list and Nick would be comforted by his voice alone. He smiles for the first time all day. “I love you,” he says, feeling the words settling something inside him. Finally, something he knows.
“I love you,” Charlie replies easily, and Nick can hear his smile.
“Hey, seeing as you love me so much, fancy distracting me?”
Charlie pauses, and his voice is wary when he says, “Nick…”
“No, not in a – I’m not, like, brushing you off or anything. I think that’s what will help right now. Tell me about your day? Please?”
It takes a moment, but eventually Charlie relents. “Fine,” he says, in a tone that lets Nick know that he’s not totally off the hook. “Oh my god, did I tell you that Isaac finally let me read the first chapter of his book?”
Nick doesn't make the first rugby team. He gets put on the second team, but that's neither what he’d expected nor wanted for himself. It's not that he thinks he's too good for it, or that he won't put in as much effort as he would for the first team. It’s just that it all reminds him of the things he's tried to bury over the last six months.
His last year at school had been so fucking hard. That was when Nick had truly started to lose himself and, worse, had almost lost Charlie. The time that they had spent apart had been possibly the worst period of Nick's life, and he never wanted to feel that way again. He was trying so hard now not to repeat the behaviours that led to Charlie suggesting they have some space, but it was so much easier said than done.
When they’d reconciled, Nick knew that their problems weren't solved. He was no surer of himself, he didn't have any great understanding of how to handle his negative emotions or the things that hurt him. All he knew was that he loved Charlie and he needed him, and he would do anything to make the relationship work. It hadn't been perfect or even hugely easy since then, but it had been better. Nick had made a point of trying to let Charlie in more, to talk about the things he was struggling with, even when he didn't fully understand them. He was aware now that his instinct was to close off, to get lost in his head and try and fix things by himself so as not to bother anyone else. He also knew that doing that pushed the most important person in his life away. Nick would be absolutely nothing if he didn't have Charlie, and so he would do whatever it took to keep him.
And so, when things got worse the longer that he was in Leeds, Nick tried his best to keep Charlie in the loop.
“I think my Biological Psychology professor is homophobic,” he says on one phone call.
"Oh, yeah, Miles is being a shit again,” he relays on another.
“I don't think the people in my project group like me," is what he tells Charlie when he starts to believe that to be true.
He thinks he's doing really well with opening up until Charlie comes to stay in mid-October and is honest right back.
“So, how are you really?” he asks as they lie in bed on Charlie's first night in Leeds. They’re sharing a pillow and facing each other, and Nick finally feels like he can breathe now he has Charlie back in his arms.
“What do you mean?” Nick asks. “You know how I am. I’ve been good at keeping you updated.”
Charlie's face does something complicated and confusing that makes Nick's stomach clench. Oh, fuck, what's he done now? How could he have possibly fucked up the one thing that he thought he was getting right?
"No, Nick, don't look like that,” Charlie soothes, reaching out to cup Nick’s jaw. "You've not done anything wrong,” he says, but he doesn't sound like he actually believes his own words. Charlie swallows thickly, looking like he doesn't want to continue.
"It's okay," Nick says quietly. “Just say it. It's okay.”
His voice sounds defeated even to his own ears. He was trying to be reassuring, but of course he couldn't even do that right.
“Nick,” Charlie breathes, pulling Nick closer and nuzzling his nose against Nick’s cheek. “You are talking to me in some ways, yes. You're telling me about the bad times or the hard things, and I'm really grateful for that, I promise. But… well. Have you really not noticed that you never tell me how they make you feel?”
Nick blinks. “What do you mean?”
“Well, it's like you're relaying facts to me. You're informing me of things, but you're never sharing the effect they have on you. And I guess I just don’t – I don't know how to support you when I don't know what it is that you’re feeling. It's like you're giving me a weather report, and I think oh, cool, it's cloudy with a chance of rain today in Nick Land. But I don't actually know if it will rain, or if you need an umbrella or a coat or to stay inside or… shit, sorry. This metaphor got away from me a bit. But, do you know what I mean?”
And, well, fuck. Nick thinks he does.
By the end of October, things start to slip further. Nick had stupidly thought that the first semester of uni would be an adjustment period where the academic side of things would be easy. It is very much not.
He's absolutely rubbish at university, it turns out. The first time he fails an essay, he doesn't really know what to do with himself. He doesn't think he's actually failed anything before. It's not like he's a genius, but he has always managed. He is not managing now.
He doesn't tell anyone. He feels so embarrassed, and he doesn't want anybody to know that he's too stupid for uni. The worst part is that he'd actually felt okay about the essay he’d submitted. He’d thought he'd made some good points, thought he'd really understood what was being asked of him. He couldn't have been more wrong.
Things carry on in that vein. After he fails the essay, things seem to go from bad to worse. Nick is so unbelievably exhausted by all the things he seems to be doing wrong that he doesn't have much room for anything else. He starts getting worse at replying to messages. He knows he has three waiting for him from Tao, but he doesn't have the energy to even read them, let alone respond to them. He and Tara had promised, when she'd left to travel, that they would have a fortnightly phone call. Nick made an excuse for the last one, promising to catch up with her later instead. He hoped that she was having fun, but he just didn't have it in him to hear about that fun at the moment.
He knew he was even getting sloppy with replying to Charlie, too. It was taking him hours instead of minutes, and their nightly phone call had become every other night. Nick knew he had to sort that out quickly if he didn't want to risk Charlie leaving him forever.
He probably should, Nick thinks bitterly. Charlie deserves so much better than someone who can't even get through his first term of university without completely falling apart.
Nick is just so ashamed of himself. All the things that he promised Charlie wouldn't happen again are happening, and it feels like everything is spiralling out of control. He doesn't have the energy or the ability to slow it down enough to get back on top of even one aspect of his life.
He starts going out with his flatmates instead. He can't stand Miles, and Chloe is questionable, but Laurence and Jade are nice enough, and that'll do for Nick. It's not them he's going out for anyway. He just wants to feel something other than useless. Weirdly, it seems to do the trick, or maybe it's the alcohol that does it. As it turns out, he's still very good at one thing: numbing any possible emotion with a shot of tequila. He's more practised now and can handle alcohol a little better than he did back in school, but he still drinks enough to shut up the nagging voices in his head. He knows it's not the right fix, but it's the quickest and the easiest, and so Nick chooses it.
Charlie visits again in early November, and Nick clings on to him at the station like his life depends on it. He thinks it might actually depend on it.
“Everyone's going out tonight,” he tells Charlie as they walk back to his flat. “The flatmates, I mean. You up for it?”
“Oh,” Charlie says, sounding deflated, and Nick tenses. “No, it's fine if that's what you want. I was kind of looking forward to just spending time with you, though. It feels like it's been ages since we've talked properly.”
The very last thing Nick wants to do is talk. It sounds like a fucking nightmare, actually. He wants to take Charlie out, do some shots, have a dance, come home and have sex, enjoy each other in that way instead. But then he glances over and sees the sad expression on Charlie's face, and he's immediately transported back to Harry Greene’s kitchen, and no. No. He can't do that again.
He wraps an arm around Charlie's shoulder and pulls him in close, pressing a quick kiss to the top of his head. “You're right,” he says, trying to inject some cheer into his voice. “Fuck going out. I just want to be with you, too.”
The look on Charlie's face is worth every second of talking Nick might be forced into.
They do have sex after all, and it's so much better than it would have been if Nick was drunk and sloppy. He's grateful to Charlie for, yet again, knowing exactly what he needed when he didn't know it himself.
“Nick,” Charlie starts afterwards, and Nick instantly knows he's not going to get away with avoiding a conversation.
“I know,” he groans, burying his face in Charlie's chest. “You don't need to tell me. I know I've been fucking awful.”
“No, none of that,” Charlie says, trying to manoeuvre Nick out of his hiding place. “Nick, I'm not trying to force you to do anything you don't want to. But… Well. I’ve been really worried about you. You've not seemed like yourself for a while, and I'm scared. I'm scared of what it means for us, but mostly for you.”
“I'm sorry,” Nick murmurs. “I really am. I don't mean to do this. I don't even know why I do it. Like, all I want when I feel rubbish is to hide and never let anyone see me.”
“Well, it's hard to know how to stop doing something that has felt like it's worked for your whole life,” Charlie says, smoothing down Nick’s hair. “I know a little about that too, remember. But I don't think it's working for you anymore, is it?”
“No,” Nick admits, “But I don't know how to change it. I don't even do it consciously. I just… I don't know. I'm just so tired all the time, and I feel like I'm messing everything up. It feels like everything's out of my control, and then things slip, like texting you back on time or checking in with you, and I don’t even know if this makes any sense, and –”
“It's okay, Nick. It’s okay. It makes sense. I'm sorry it's been so hard. I promise you that you're not the only person who feels like this when their whole life has just changed. It doesn't mean there's something wrong with you or that you're failing anything.”
“I literally failed my last essay,” Nick finally admits. Saying it out loud is just as horrifying as he'd imagined, but it's also… freeing, somehow.
He watches Charlie carefully school his face into a neutral expression. He kind of wants to take it back, say he was joking and that he’s doing fine in his classes, but he doesn't. He just sits with it instead. Because something has to change.
“Okay,” Charlie says slowly. “That's okay. I bet loads of people fail stuff at first, especially people who have been struggling to adjust. It’s fixable.”
“But what if it's not?” Nick asks, oh so quietly. “What if uni is just not for me? What if I can't do it?”
“Baby,” Charlie breathes, gathering Nick closer still. Nick hadn’t realised that was possible, but he goes with it. “First of all, if uni wasn't for you, that would be okay. It isn't for everyone, and there are loads of valid choices you could make. None of those choices would make you worth any more or less than this one would. If that's something that you really believe, we can look into alternative options, and I'll hold your hand through all of it.”
“Really?” Nick asks. He wishes there would be a rush of relief that came with Charlie saying that, but his chest is still tight.
“But,” Charlie continues. “If it's okay for me to say, or to remind you at least, that you were really excited about this. You’ve been talking about the uni experience for ages. You couldn't wait to get here.”
“But it's so different than I expected. It's so much harder, and nothing makes sense. I just can't keep up.”
Charlie thinks for a moment, and Nick loves him so much for not rushing into false reassurances or dismissing him. He’s never felt so heard before and he wants to fucking sob.
“You told me you were enjoying your course, right? Was that true?”
“Yes,” Nick says quickly. He may be really good at hiding the truth sometimes, but he's never actively lied to Charlie before, and he hopes Charlie knows that. “I do find it interesting. When I think about where it could take me, I'm excited about that. It's just all so much.”
“Okay, well, maybe that's something you can talk to one of your advisors about. Maybe there are adjustments or services that could help with that. Because you're allowed that, Nick. Help, I mean. I'm sure the uni is used to people feeling this way at first, and they'll have systems in place to assist.”
Nick lets out a shuddering breath. He doesn't think he's someone who would qualify for any sort of adjustments. There are people who have it way worse than him, who actually need help from the uni, and those are the people that resources should be used on. Nick is still mostly convinced that he's just being weak and pathetic. But Charlie is here, trying to offer practical solutions, trying to help. He’s all but begging Nick to let him support him. Nick has made the mistake of shutting him out before, and he doesn't want to do it again. And so, eventually, he nods.
“Will you help me look into it?" he asks in barely more than a whisper.
Charlie lets out what sounds like a relieved breath. “Of course I will, love. Thank you for talking to me. I really love you, you know.”
“I really love you, too,” Nick says, clinging on to Charlie for dear life. “I'm sorry. I said that I wouldn't do this again and I let you down.”
“You absolutely have not let me down, Nick. What you've just said is huge, and I'm so happy that you're letting me help you. You can't break lifelong habits in a day, babe, and I never expect that or want that from you. But you're trying, and I'm really grateful for that because honestly, I don't think I've got it in me to have a repeat of –”
“Don't even say it,” Nick interrupts, covering Charlie's mouth with his hand and smiling. “It's not going to happen again, so we don't have to worry about it. I promise I'll keep trying as long as you'll let me, if that's what you want.”
Charlie smiles softly, a little sappily, and curls back into Nick's side. “Always,” he says, and for the first time in longer than he likes to admit, Nick feels lighter than air.