Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Tara, love, will you please slow down?” Nick called out as he manoeuvred the heavy gym bag and unwieldy rolling holdall around the crowded London pavement. 

Tara’s beaded braids sparkled as she spun back towards Nick, taking in her best friend’s flushed face and straining arms. While they were well into October and the weather had certainly taken a turn for the autumnal, Nick had always run hot and was clearly regretting his long sleeved shirt, if not the entire enterprise she had roped him into. 

“Ach, I’m sorry Nicky!” she exclaimed with an apologetic grimace as she continued to walk gracefully backwards, cradling an overflowing vase of flowers in her arms. “I’m just so excited!” She took a joyful inhale of the blooms caressing her cheeks before falling into step beside Nick with another exuberant twirl. 

Any trace of annoyance he might have felt disappeared as Nick looked down at Tara with a proud, lopsided grin. “I’m glad. I know how much you love teaching the little ones, but choreographing a music video sounds like so much fun, and so cool.”

“Aw thanks babe!” Tara briefly leaned her head into Nick’s shoulder. “... but it’s a fashion campaign, not a music video.”

“Right! You told me,” Nick winced. “Sorry I keep forgetting- “

“- no S-word, we’ve talked about this!” Tara interrupted, shifting the vase onto one hip while reaching out her other arm for the holdall handle. She slotted an elegant bangled hand next to Nick’s large, freckled one, and sighed. “If I can barely keep up with all of the work I am juggling right now, then I certainly can’t expect anyone else to. I mean, I am not complaining! I am booked and blessed… but it has been awfully challenging staying on top of it all.” 

Nick gave her slight frame a gentle nudge that belied his size. “I know. But you are wicked talented, and you have worked so hard for so long. It’s well past time for it to pay off.” 

The pair paused at a pedestrian crossing alongside a gaggle of college students. As Nick talked, Tara noticed the girls pause their gossiping to slowly track their gazes up from Nick’s beat up Vans, to his snug track pants and shirt, to his sparkling amber eyes.

Three, two, one…aaannndd…

The five girls collectively melted as Nick ran a sweaty hand through his auburn hair. 

Ever oblivious, Nick continued.

“One good thing that has come out of the …last few months… is that now I have time to do things like this- you know, save the day and that.” Nick gazed fondly down at his oldest friend. “You have helped me so much, in a million different ways, I’m happy for any opportunity to balance the scales. Now drop that holdall, I’ve got it.” 

Tara released her grip on the luggage handle and watched as Nick took in the uneven paving in front of them. With a brief huff, he hoisted the holdall up with one hand while shouldering the gym back with the other, and strode across the road. 

“Urghhh,” choked one of the school girls.

“Mhmmmm,” whined another.

Tara chuckled as she left the dumbstruck teenagers frozen in lusty tableau to follow Nick. After they had the holdall settled back on its wheels, Nick and Tara continued forward through the park. As they passed under the dappled shade of the trees lining either side of the path, Nick sheepishly admitted that he did not quite understand why a fashion shoot would need choreography, but really really wanted to know more about the gig that had Tara so excited. 

 “Do you teach the models how to walk and pose on the runway? To… catwalk? Or. Wait. The catwalk is the long stage thing that they walk down, yeah?”” Nick frowned slightly, “Actually, why is it called a catwalk?”

Tara giggled at Nick’s trademark golden retriever-like enthusiasm. “Not quite, hang on a tick…” Spotting an open park bench, Tara gestured for Nick to stop and sit with her. “We’ve made good time and we’re quite close now. I’ll show you some of Elle’s previous campaigns, it will help me explain better.” 

Tara sat, daintily securing the vase on the ground between her feet, while Nick dropped the bags and collapsed on the bench next to her with a huff. He absentmindedly rubbed his aching left knee. 

“Alright?” murmured Tara as she swiped on her phone. “You promised not to push, you numpty.” 

“Ay, I’m good, ta.” Nick let go of his knee and spread his arms out along the back of the bench. As Tara tapped and typed, he took a slow breath in, an even slower breath out, and willed his sore muscles to relax. 

Nick had sustained plenty of injuries on the pitch throughout his rugby-playing life. He knew how to care for himself, and how critical it was to not push his body too hard too soon. Ironically, while Christian and Sai and Otis had jealously teased Nick for being seemingly indestructible, it was by carefully caring for his (frequent) injuries that Nick ensured he healed as quickly and fully as possible. His mind and body were both well-practiced in the process of recovery. 

Which only served to make the reality that this time there would be no true recovery, that his professional rugby career was over at 27 years old, even harder to reconcile. 

Right, Nick. Enough of that. 

Nick shook his fringe off his forehead, grateful that Tara was too busy scrolling to notice the wince of pain the motion produced. He let out another careful exhale as he took in the park around them. Although Kent had many charms, and he certainly missed his mum and dog Henry something fierce , Nick relished both the energy and diversity of London. He watched a family picnic in the shade of a large tree, and the smell of biryani wafting from their delicious-looking spread made his stomach rumble (and reminded him that he needed to call Sai back, despite his trepidation about reaching out to his concerned teammates. Well, former teammates). Nearby, a group of lads halfheartedly passed a football around while clearly being more focused on their conversation; the language was unfamiliar, but Nick could hear the unmistakable cadences of Lad Banter from across the grass. A shorter distance down the walking path were a pair of older women sat companionably on a bench with their knitting. Or perhaps crocheting? Nick wasn’t quite sure of the difference. He was about to pull out his phone and Google it when Tara let out a triumphant noise. 

“Got it! Here, this is Elle’s Insta,” Tara quickly scrolled down to older posts. “just look!”

Nick pressed close to Tara and took in the array of photos and reels, occasionally reaching over to click and scroll as she breathlessly explained. 

“Elle and I were at uni together and have a lot of friends in common, but we never really connected while we were students because I was in dance and she was in fashion. So many of the fashion students had cringe Instas and TikToks, but I loved her content right off. I don’t know how she manages to be that immaculately stunning but also completely genuine and accessible and just…” The noise Tara made was somewhere between a squeak and a groan.  

Nick grinned. “Has Darcy heard you gush about Elle this way?” 

“Piss off! Though, you have a point, I definitely have a talent crush. And you know I am here for all of this unabashed queer joy.”

Nick did not consider himself even slightly fashionable or artistic, but as he scrolled through Tara’s phone he understood why she was so taken with Elle. Her content was a mix of bold styling tips, warm get-ready-with-me chats in a musical Mancunian accent, and glimpses of a personal life filled with trips to art galleries, film festivals, and LGBTQI+ events. 

As more recent posts started to appear, Elle seemed to be styling other people more than herself. The production quality of the photographs and reels over the past six months became exponentially slicker, and Nick gave a low whistle as he started to recognize some of the influencers and minor celebrities. As he reached the top, Nick took in the Trans Pride flag in Elle’s bio alongside the quote:

To become the image of your own imagination is the most powerful thing you could ever do -RuPaul

“I know!” Nick could not tell if Tara’s exclamation was one of admiration, glee, anxiety, or a mix of all three. “ Darcy was so chuffed when she told me she was working on the photoshoot for Elle’s new clothing line.” Tara clutched her phone close to her chest as she continued, “Elle saw Darcy’s window display work and invited her to collaborate on the set design for the shoot- here, let me show you the sketches… ” Nick grinned proudly while Tara continued to ramble as she searched through her phone. 

Despite his best efforts, the lightning-speed delivery of Tara’s monologue meant that Nick could only partly keep up. In a quiet moment while she was trying to pull up a “mood board”, Nick felt the welcome tingle of a cool brush of wind. He watched as the gust lifted a few leaves into the air.  For a brief moment they appeared to hover, suspended at the top of their arc, before a figure walked past and gently blew the leaves up and away. Nick’s eyes tracked the leaves up, up, and then fell back down to land on the back of the person who had sent them dancing.

Even though he could only see him from behind, Nick thought that the lithe figure walking away could have stepped straight out of one of Elle’s photos. The leather blazer and artfully ripped dark jeans fit in an effortless way that Nick had never quite been able to manage. Nick appreciated his body, even now when it was more broken than it had ever been, but over the course of the twenty years he had played rugby he had found it increasingly difficult to find clothes that comfortably fit his frame. His wardrobe consisted almost exclusively of athletic wear because tracksuits and jumpers did not awkwardly pull at his thighs, shoulders and biceps the way shirts, trousers, and even jeans inevitably did.

The retreating man certainly had more sartorial grace than Nick had ever possessed, but it was the tousled head of shiny dark curls that truly caught his eye. Shaking his own fringe out of his eyes again (he really needed a haircut), Nick wondered if those lovely curls required lots of styling products to achieve, or if they were as naturally soft as they looked. 

Curl Model paused a few yards away and bent over to tie the loose laces of one of his immaculate white Play Converse. Already unsettled by his sudden impulse to touch a stranger’s hair, Nick felt himself flush as his eyes fell on the man’s arse, and he quickly averted his gaze. As he forced himself to stop staring at Cute Arse Curl Model (a completely appropriate descriptor, Nick reasoned, for a fit man with curly hair and an objectively aesthetically pleasing bum) he noticed a boy of perhaps fourteen or fifteen approach the Knitting Twins. 

The oversized corduroy trousers and multiple jumpers that the boy was wearing could not hide how painfully thin he was, and Nick could see even from several yards away how dirty, or perhaps scratched, his thick glasses were. Nick watched as the boy timidly seated himself on the far end of the Knitting Twins’ bench. The rhythmic movements of the pairs’ needles slowed as they noticed him, their faces pinching in almost identical frowns of annoyance, or possibly unease. 

Even after only four months in the city, Nick had learned that Londoners preferred to be given a wider berth than the terminally friendly and perpetually chatty population of Kent. As the boy sagged into the seat with downcast eyes, Nick was saddened by the disgruntled look on the womens’ faces. His sadness quickly turned to concern as he watched the boy shrink into himself, knees pulled up to his chest and rocking slightly. After several aborted movements to raise his eyes towards the women, the boy finally lifted his gaze and began to speak to them, anxiously pulling his sweatshirt sleeves over his hands. 

The pair of women immediately and simultaneously packed away their knitting and wordlessly walked away without so much as a backwards glance. The boy watched their retreating backs, mouth open, frozen mid-sentence. 

Nick did not think the youth could have compressed his body any tighter, but he could and did, rocking back and forth with his head on his knees and one hand fisted in his hair. 

Nick was about to stand and approach the boy- and do what, he was not sure, but he had to do something - when he saw Curl Model rise from where he too had apparently been watching the whole exchange. The dark-haired man walked slowly but purposefully towards the bench and sat where the women had been. With his body turned towards the boy, Nick still could not see Curl Model’s face, but the man must have said something because the boy lifted his head up towards him with a flinch. 

Observing the boy’s teary, wide-eyed gaze, Nick’s body filled with tension and he braced himself to jump up and intervene. Nick was too far away to hear the conversation, especially with Tara continuing to monologue beside him, but he slowly relaxed as the boy appeared to become less fearful with each passing moment. His rocking slowed as he listened to the man across from him. 

“I give up.” Nick was startled by Tara’s emphatic huff. “I can’t find the sketches, but you’ll have to take my word for it, this whole thing will be brilliant, if I don’t faff it up.” 

“You won’t,” Nick responded automatically, distracted by the man and boy rising from the bench. It appeared as if the man was leading the boy somewhere. Alarm bells began ringing in Nick’s head; he had no way of knowing what Model Man’s intentions were towards the youth. Nick couldn’t just let them leave together. 

“Tara, we should get going.”

“Oh my gosh you’re right! We’re still good for time, but we need to get a wiggle on if we want to keep it that way.” 

Nick quickly picked up their bags and continued down the park pathway with Tara, a short distance behind Model-Possibly-Predator and Sad Boy. As they reached the edge of the park, Tara directed Nick to the left, and he was relieved to see that the pair in front of them had turned in the same direction. A short distance later, Nick watched as the Curly Creeper led the boy into a coffee shop.

“Fancy a coffee?” Nick blurted out. Tara looked up at him in bemusement. 

“You hate coffee.”

“I don’t hate it. An iced coffee sounds really good right now.” Observing her scepticism, he went on,  “ And… the caffeine helps with the migraines?”  He pushed down a pang of guilt as Tara’s eyes widened. “Oh! I am glad it helps, I know how awful those have been for you. This cafe here looks a bit small, how about I wait outside with the bags and you go in?”

“Thanks T, what would you like?” Nick stepped to the side and settled the bags next to one of the tables in front of the shop as Tara set her flowers on a chair and pulled her phone back out of her purse. 

“An iced chai if they have them!”

When Nick turned back to the cafe door, It took every ounce of self-control not to elbow his way in front of the trio of suited men that were just entering the shop, but he managed to calmly follow and queue behind them. Nick strained to listen, but the hum of the espresso machines drowned out the voices of the man and boy as they spoke to the barista behind the counter. 

Nick watched the boy point timidly towards a sandwich in the display case. The man nodded and straightened from his bending his ear towards the boy (he was not quite as tall as Nick had first thought, perhaps 5’10” to his own 6’2”) and pulled his wallet out of his jacket pocket to pay for the sandwich, as well as an apple, a packet of crisps, a frisbee-sized cookie, a fruit cup, a litre of water, and an iced drink that the cashier prepared a comically large cup for before passing it down the counter. 

Curl Model helped the cashier place their purchases in a paper bag, except for the water which he handed directly to the boy. The two then made their way down to the end of the counter to wait for the iced drink (some kind of latte, Nick gathered). Nick swallowed his frustration that he could not hear what the man was saying to the boy, and that he had yet to get a clear glimpse of the man’s face and perhaps gauge the situation more clearly. Nevertheless, Nick was reassured by the way the cashier had seemed to recognize the man. 

The Suits eventually completed their overly complicated orders (what the bloody hell is a macchiato anyway?) and Nick ordered a chai for Tara and a small iced coffee for himself. Transaction complete, Nick turned from the counter in time to catch the boy exiting the shop with the man and his gargantuan coffee. Nick rushed to the opposite end of the counter by the drink pickup, which was directly across from the large shop window. Overly-Caffeinated Curl Model and Not Quite So Sad Boy had stopped directly in front of it. 

Nick was glad to see that the boy appeared completely at ease, guzzling his water out of the bottle through a colourful straw. He followed the boy’s gaze up towards the man. 

From this vantage point, Nick was finally able to get a clear look at the man’s face. 

He was not sure what he had expected. But it certainly was not what he was seeing through the grimy shop window. 

Time stopped as Nick took in a face that was a dichotomy of dramatic lines and inviting softness. Strong brows and angular cheekbones were offset by full lips and long lashes framing the most striking blue eyes Nick had ever seen- so dark they were almost navy, or perhaps indigo. Although Nick could now see that the man was probably around his age, there was something endearingly boyish in how his curls fell around his face. Yet another part of Nick’s overwhelmed brain wondered if the man had styled his hair to purposefully hide his prominent ears, and what a pity if so because they were really quite cute.

Nick felt an overwhelming full-body rush. Of what, he wasn’t sure-  largely relief, he reasoned, because a face that kind could not possibly belong to a predator. 

Curl Model was speaking gently and earnestly, placing his coffee on a cafe table before pulling an Oyster Card out of his wallet and handing it over to the boy. Then he took a pen out of his jacket pocket and wrote something on the cafe receipt before dropping it into the paper bag and handing it all over. The boy blinked in shock and cast his eyes back down at his worn trainers. Curl Model leaned down slightly to catch the boy’s eyes with his own, and spoke again once he had the boy’s attention. The boy nodded with a small, watery smile and what Nick thought might have been an “I promise.” 

Nick felt another inexplicable rush as the man flashed a dimpled smile before reaching out his hand to the boy. The boy shifted the handle of the paper bag onto his small wrist, grasped the man’s hand, and after a brief and bashful shake muttered what Nick assumed was a farewell before turning and walking across the road towards the Tube entrance. 

Curl Model had his back to the window, and Nick watched him watch the boy give a final wave before exiting down the stairs to the Underground. 

Several seconds went by. The dark-haired man placed his hands on his slim hips, his shoulders slowly rising and falling with one, two, three deep breaths.  

Then Nick felt his own breath stop as the man turned around, raised his piercing eyes to the window, and looked directly at him. 

Chapter Text

Nick realised through his panic that although the brunette’s expression was fierce, his impossibly blue eyes were also more than a little misty. His gaze still locked on Nick, Curl Model gave his dark waterlogged lashes the briefest of swipes, and then critically studied Nick up and down.

Nick was a millisecond away from combusting when he registered the man brusquely adjust his shirt and jacket, and then proceed to give his hair a more careful pass. 

Oh. 

Oh.  

In the bright light of the autumn day and with the dim light inside the cafe, the man was not looking at Nick , but at his own reflection in the shop window. 

Feeling uneasy about his unintentional voyeurism but unable to look away. Nick watched as Curl Model straightened from the slight slump he had fallen into, slowly and deliberately stacking himself up vertebrae by vertebrae. After he had brought himself to his full height, he briefly closed his eyes, popped them open with the tiniest of nods to himself, and picked up his drink. 

Nick could not shake the illusion that Curl Model was staring directly into his eyes as he gave himself a final once-over, wrapped his lips around his coffee straw, and took a deep suck.

Sip. 

A SIP. 

Of latte.

“’Scuse us mate.” Nick was jolted by the Suits brushing past him with their mocha-frappa-chiatto monstrosities, and as he stepped out of the way he saw Curl Model turn from the window and stride off down the street.

He barely had time to register his irrational pang of loss when the lads who had been playing footie in the park came bursting through the cafe door in a boisterous parade. Nick became a boulder in a relentless stream of caffeine-dependent Londoners. He roused himself, fought the current to retrieve his order from the pickup area, and dodged and wiggled his way back out of the shop to Tara.

“Looks like we just beat the rush, good timing.” Tara stood to take her iced chai from Nick and gave him a squeeze around the waist. “You good? You look a bit flushed. Did you want to get some water as well?”

“I’m still good, mum.”

“Oye, I would be offended, except your mum is a queen.”

“Don’t I know it.” Nick took what he hoped would be a calming sip of his drink before considering that coffee was probably not the best way to soothe his nerves. 

Not that his nerves should need any soothing, really. Curl Model had been kind to the boy instead of creepy, and even with limited evidence Nick had a hunch that the man had probably written down information for social services on the receipt he had slipped into the bag of food. Nick did not know what the boy’s exact situation was, but did know that the Northern line would take him to at least one centre specifically for at-risk youth. 

Wherever the boy was heading and whatever waited for him there, Nick was glad that the indigo-eyed man had acted more swiftly than Nick had been capable of, and if nothing else had demonstrated that there were kind people out in the world who were safe to ask and accept help from. 

While Nick had been inside the shop, Tara had figured out a more efficient system for transporting their load, securing the gym bag to the top of the holdall by its handle. 

“Good work.”

“Oh, don’t thank me yet. I can’t hold my drink and the vase and help pull all this.”

“Typical, your brains conspiring to leave my brawn at a disadvantage.”

“First off, you have just as many smarts as muscles. And secondly, given your multiple talents… Darcy just messaged me. Prep for the shoot is running behind, and they need all the help they can get to be ready by the time the producer arrives. He sounds like a holy terror, I’ve never seen Darcy as stressed as she has been these past weeks.” 

“ Darcy is stressed?!?” Nick could not imagine anything phasing Darcy. 

“I mean, she is Darcy’s version of stressed: completely herself, just dialled up to 11.”

Nick shuddered. “I mean, I am not sure how helpful I would be, of all people… but I’d be happy to try.” Nick paused, quietly adding, “I think I could stand to be more helpful.”

“NICHOLAS LUKE NELSON” Tara hoisted the vase back onto her hip with one hand and lifted her drink with the other, bangles tinkling. “You absolute puppy, you are the most helpful, thoughtful person I know. Case in point-” she cast her eyes down to the bags.

“Righto.” Nick gripped the holdall handle, and together the friends headed on what Tara promised was a short remaining walk to the studio… and whatever chaos awaited them there. 

🍂🍃🍂🍃🍂🍃

Nick had participated in press conferences, in team and solo photoshoots for League marketing and media, and he had even been in a television commercial with Otis and Sai (an embarrassingly low-budget affair for a local sporting goods store that the three had agreed to never speak of again). 

The enterprise he and Tara walked into was on another level entirely.

The windowless monolith of a building housed twenty-two different studio and production spaces. They followed Darcy’s texted instructions to check in and pick up badges from the bored woman behind the security desk, and proceeded through a maze of relentlessly lit corridors (thankfully also full of relentless signage) to Studio 8. 

As they made their way through the halls, into a lift that could have fit Nick’s entire apartment inside of it, and down yet more hallways, Nick and Tara took in the focused bustle of the building occupants; almost everyone they passed was kitted out with some combination of headsets, radios, aprons, tool belts, and coffee flasks or to-go cups large enough to rival Curl Model’s.

Not that Nick was still thinking about the brunette or anything.

After narrowly avoiding a collision with a kamikaze clothing rack, Nick and Tara finally arrived at the entrance to the studio. 

The corridors had been filled with the buzz of people heading from place to place, but Nick had not been able to hear a sound from inside any of the studios and recording booths they had passed. Tara pushed a labelled button to open the smaller of the two loading doors, and as the panel slid open to reveal Studio 8, the pair was hit with a wall of noise. 

Some of that noise was the thirty odd people slapping together scenery, running lighting cables, climbing ladders, and yelling at each other around overstuffed Z-racks. 

But most of it was Darcy. 

“My love! My guy! Thank FUCK you’re here. Tao’s about to strangle me with his bloody camera strap, I need to get that drapery up right the hell now- OH WAIT WAIT WAIT you stopped for a COFFEE and didn’t bring me one?!?”

Nick cowered behind Tara. 

“Light of my life, the last thing you need is more caffeine. I am willing to bet that all the energy drink cans I can see in that bin over there are yours.”

Darcy’s vehement head shakes sent her pastel pink and lavender shag whipping around face. “I’ve only had three!”

“It’s barely gone 10 in the morning!” . 

“Your point? I got here at 4:30am.” 

Tara glared as Nick wordlessly handed over his mostly full iced coffee to Darcy, who cackled in triumph before taking a big slurp. 

“Whose side are you on, Nick?”

“The side that keeps me in this maniac’s good graces.”

“Smart lad, this one, I’ve always said so.” declared Darcy. Sucking back the last of the coffee and executing a flawless overhand toss of the cup into the rubbish bin (Nick silently fretted over the apparent lack of recycling), Darcy threw her arms around her two favourite people and led them into the studio, bags in tow. 

Nick took in the space. Unlike the stark white corridors, every surface of the cavernous room was black: floor, walls, ceiling. Lighting truss hung suspended over their heads, and the floor was crowded with equipment, partitions that had been set up to create dressing rooms, folding tables laden with laptops and monitors and binders, and as many rolling tool chests and road cases as people.

The dressing room partitions had initially obscured most of the room from view; and as Darcy led them deeper into the space, Nick saw what looked like three partially constructed sets for video and photography. Darcy paused in front of the closest set, indicating to drop the bags and place the vase on top of a road case. A voice behind them called out. 

“Oh, brilliant! Those flowers are going to work perfectly, Darcy.” 

“They should have been here working perfectly 24 hours ago.”

“Tao, everyone is doing their best, hush.”

Nick turned alongside Tara and Darcy, recognizing Elle’s voice and then Elle herself striding towards them. She was even more striking in person, dressed in a sheer white button-down with a purple bustier underneath, with her shirt tucked into tan wide-leg, high-waisted slacks. Her two-tone hair was braided at the crown and cascaded down her back a waterfall of curls that swished as she approached them with outstretched arms.

“Tara! I am so excited you are here!” Elle bent to embrace Tara with an encompassing hug that Nick thought might (almost) rival his mum’s. “We’re not going to be ready for you for a bit, I am so sorry.”

“You shouldn’t be apologising, Elle, it’s not your fault everything is such a mess .”

“Tao, please.” Elle turned to place a gentle hand on her companion’s arm with a firm look over the top of her gold-rimmed glasses. The lanky Asian man met her eyes briefly before deflating with a sheepish tug of the black beanie on his head. 

“Oh goodness, don’t worry about it.” said Tara, “ I’m happy to help with whatever needs doing till the models are ready for me. And I brought a friend to help!” Tara turned to Nick, “My best friend, actually. Nick, meet the famous Elle Argent. And this grump is Tao Xu, our director of photography.” 

Elle turned to Nick with wide eyes. “Wait. Nicholas Luke Nelson ?”

Nick repressed surprise that Elle apparently followed rugby, then internally chided himself for making assumptions. Elegant fashionistas could like rubgy too!

“Yes, that’s me.” He gave her and her frosty DP his best smile. “You support the Badgers then?”

“The what?” 

“They’re a rugby team, Tao.” Elle looked at Nick with an expression he couldn’t place. “No Nick, we went to primary together. I sat next to you in maths and art.”

“We…” Nick frowned in confusion, and although it took him a few seconds to connect the dots, he was grateful that for once that his mouth had not gotten ahead of his brain. “Art with Mr. Ajayi?”

“Yes! He was wonderful. I was sad to hear he left to teach at Truham, but I bet he’s excited to have more advanced students.”

A smile slowly spread across Nick’s face. “I remember you.” Nick felt the tense protectiveness radiating from Tao, and would have been offended if he hadn’t found it oddly sweet. “While the rest of us could barely hold our markers, you were painting full on portraits." Nick paused as he recalled. “But my favourite bits of art were the ones you made in maths. Your likeness of Mr. Farouk in particular,” he said with a conspiratory wiggle of his eyebrows. 

Elle’s musical giggle seemed to physically melt away Tao’s tension. “Oh no.”

“Oh yes. Sitting next to you definitely helped me dread maths a little less. It’s good to see you-” Nick held out his hand- “Elle Argent.” 

Elle wrapped long, graceful fingers around Nick’s with a firm shake. “It’s good to see you, Nick Nelson. I loved the pictures you used to draw of your dog. Did you end up having Mr. Ajayi again at Truham?”

“No, I didn’t go to Truham, though I sometimes wish I had. I went to St. John’s instead because of rugby.”

“Ah.” said Tao. 

Nick, Darcy, Tara, and Elle turned to Tao, who stuttered under the sudden scrutiny. “Just, like, him being a St. John’s rugby lad explains-” Tao gave a wave of his arm up and down at Nick, “All of that.”

Nick wasn’t sure if he was being complimented or insulted. 

 “All of what, exactly?” Tao shrunk at Darcy’s quiet growl. 

Elle masterfully de-escalated by reaching her arms out again, this time placing one of Nick’s hands between two of hers. “Tao is right, this strapping lad isn’t the little ginger Nicky I remember. Rugby looks good on you.” 

Nick smiled sadly. 

Darcy jumped in with a gesture towards the bags. “And those rugby arms helped save the day. This is the last of the supplies we need.”

“Ahem, I helped!” Tara interjected in mock offence.

“I know babes.” said Darcy, throwing her arm around Tara’s waist and giving her an enthusiastic peck on the cheek as Tara rolled her eyes. 

“You are both too good to us. Now if you would, please come with me, Tara. The models aren’t all here yet but I can start introducing you to the ones who are getting into makeup with Imogen.” Elle looked back at Darcy, Tao, and Nick as she led Tara away. “I am so excited to see your vision come together Darcy.”

“OUR vision, boss!” Darcy turned to Tao, cutting him off as he had been about to speak. “And before you start up again, I know we are behind, but we have everything we need now, and it’s going to be GORGEOUS, just you wait.” She reached up to poke Tao playfully in the chest. 

To Nick’s amazement, Tao actually cracked a smile at Darcy’s boisterous confidence. “I know it will be gorgeous, I’ve seen your sketches. I just needed it to be gorgeous literally yesterday .”  

Tao bent over and unzipped the gym bag, and Nick watched as he pulled out several long colourful gauze panels. Each diaphanous drape was a beautiful jewel tone. Nick assumed that the ties along the tops were to secure them to the grid above their heads. “These are going to take light beautifully ,” crooned Tao, who turned his head to look at Nick with an effusive smile. “Thank you for helping us get these here, Rugby Lad.” 

Nick rubbed the back of his neck, unsure what to make of this moody man. “It was no trouble mate, happy to help.” 

Tao nodded, then bent to open up the holdall. Darcy’s eyes went wide.

“Tao, we’ve got it from here, don’t you have important DP things to go do?”

“Not until Aled gets here with the replacement lenses. I might as well -” Tao ground to a halt as the holdall fell open, revealing a truly impressive stash of candy, crisps, and energy drinks. 

Nick, Tao, and Darcy watched a can of Red Bull roll down from the top of the pile, out of the case, and across the floor. 

Tao closed his eyes. “Seriously, Darcy?”

“Look, I said I was waiting on necessary supplies, and these are necessary supplies.” Darcy stooped to toss a can of Paprika Pringles to Tao, who flailed before managing to clutch it to his chest with his forearms.

Nick hadn’t thought it was possible for someone to disdainfully open a can of Pringles, but the day was shaping up to be full of surprises. 

“You,” said Tao, pointing at Darcy with a crisp, “are a menace.” Tao popped the Pringle in his mouth, turned on his heel, and strode away. 

“Lordy, I thought he’d never leave.” Darcy grinned as she stuffed a bag of Haribo in the chest pocket of her dungarees. “I know it was a bit shite of me to make you lug all this here, but we have a whole week to get through, and sugar is critical to my artistic process.” 

Darcy dug through her stash and gave a triumphant “Hah!” before handing Nick a Dairy Milk Oreo bar. As she passed the chocolate to him, she met his eyes, and her smile dimmed.  “I’m sorry for Tao and his “rugby lad” comments before. I think he was trying to be complimentary, in a completely naff way.” 

If Nick were being honest, he would admit that Tao’s comments had made him uncomfortable, and that it was weird for a person he had just met to give reductive commentary on his appearance. But Nick took in Darcy’s earnest expression, and attempted to let his feelings go. He was likely being oversensitive. As usual. 

“All good Darce, stress can make the best of us act a bit off. Speaking of, can I help you get these sorted?” asked Nick, indicating the bag of drapes.

Darcy’s maniacal grin returned in full force. “Yes! Let’s get these upupup.” Nick jumped when Darcy cupped her hands around her mouth and gave a loud yell:

“ISAAC! WHERE ARE YOU?”

In response, an explosive electric hum sounded behind them, and Nick spun around towards the sound. Darcy slowly turned, nonplussed as a nearby scissor lift descended with a rattle. The platform lowered to reveal a square-jawed young man leaning serenely over the guardrails. When the platform reached the base of the lift and fell silent, the man who Nick assumed was Isaac brightly asked, “The drapes here then?”

“You bet your arse they are, thanks to Nick and Tara!” Darcy had begun to pull the fabric bundles out of the gym bag, but her celebratory expression slowly shifted to woe. “Oh no, the wrinkles,”  she moaned. 

“Wardrobe has steamers, go grab two with the long hose attachments? And some extension cords,” Isaac said. Darcy nodded frantically, reaching into her front pocket to stuff two gummies in her mouth before racing off in the direction of the dressing area. 

“Hullo, I’m Isaac,” said the unflappable man in the lift. “Nick was it?”

Nick felt himself relax for the first time that day since seeing the distressed boy in the park. “Yes, it’s good to meet you, Isaac. I might be a bit out of my depth, but I’m here to try and help. What can I do?”

Isaac thought briefly before responding, “I think the quickest way to get the drapes up and wrinkle-free is to steam them as they are being hung. If I take them all up in the lift and start hanging them, can you and Darcy follow behind on ladders with the steamers? 

“Absolutely!” said Nick.

Isaac clapped his hand together. “Excellent. When Darcy gets back, she can take you through how to use one. In the meantime, let’s see those drapes?”

Nick handed off the fabric load to Isaac, and Darcy returned with two rolling industrial clothes steamers in short order. After a brief tutorial on how to use the steamer without burning himself, Nick hauled over two ladders to begin following behind Isaac’s lift.

(Nick wondered if he was seeing things, or if Isaac actually had a Kindle clipped to the railing of the scissor lift.)

Nick and Darcy worked in tandem in clouds of steam and colourful fabric. Someone in the studio had decided it was time for music, and as he carefully ran the steamer over the drapery and quietly sang along to Dua Lipa’s “Cool,” Nick relished feeling useful for the first time in months. He soon became overly warm from the steam, and discarded his long-sleeve top to continue working in his vest. 

The drapes were each about one metre wide and four metres tall. Nick had expected that Isaac would hang them in a straight line as some sort of backdrop, but instead the drapes hung in a seemingly random pattern within a circular footprint about 8 metres in diameter. Nick kept getting distracted by the way light passed through the fabric, creating a riot of shifting colours across his outstretched arms as the drapes billowed around him. 

Nick was pulled out of his reverie by the sudden cutoff of the music (Troy Sivan’s “Get me Started,” which was a crime to interrupt, in Nick’s opinion).  Even if he hadn’t been near Darcy and Isaac and their radios, he would have heard the dire message being broadcast at top volume over every headset.

“Winter is coming,” intoned a crackling voice. 

Darcy and Isaac froze. 

From his vantage point atop the ladder and through the sheer drapes, Nick saw the whole room go still.

“WINTER.”

Crackle.

 “IS.” 

Crackle.

“COMING.”

The studio erupted. 

Nick felt like he was watching a video being played at triple speed. People were frantically stacking and organzing binders. They were grabbing lumber and tools off the floor and tossing them haphazardly into hampers. They were feverishly sweeping and dry mopping. A voice screamed for a dustpan. Nick watched two women sail past each other not so much pushing their garment racks as riding them across the floor.

Nick turned to see Issac continue to calmly tie off the drapes, heedless of the pandemonium around them. 

“Balls balls BALLS,” hissed Darcy. She clambered up her ladder next to Nick’s. “Fuckity fucking fuckery.”

When Nick had arrived at the studio, the mood had been urgent. Now it felt portentous. “What’s happening?”

“Charlie Fucking Spring, that’s what’s about to happen.” replied Darcy murderously. She paused at the top of her ladder, and leaned over closer to Nick. 

“I don’t know why, I don’t know how, but Elle thought it would be a good idea to bring her best mate Charlie Spring on to produce this campaign three months into planning. Suddenly he is the boss of all of us. He sets the budget, sets the schedule, is grand overlord of everything that isn’t the actual art .”

Darcy savagely stuffed three unicorn gummies into her mouth.

“We had to completely change all of our plans because we got moved to this studio at the last minute. Another booking cancelled, and Spring was able to negotiate an absurdly low rate for us.” Darcy swallowed and sighed, slumping over the top of her ladder. “This space is so much better than what we had.”

Nick leaned over his own ladder to place a hand on Darcy’s shoulder. “That’s a good thing, yeah? He sounds like he’s good at his job.”

“Oh he is. He IS. He is apparently the ONLY person on this PLANET who is good at his job.” Darcy reached into her front pocket and, finding it empty, started down the ladder. “We were in the middle of loading in on Friday morning when he got some sort of call and had to be elsewhere, probably somewhere important because he is SO IMPORTANT and no one could make bloody heads or tails of his “Master Calendar” and Monday was a MESS.” 

Darcy skipped the last run to jump down onto the studio floor- a full-body stomp. “And now it’s almost noon on Tuesday and his lordship is finally back and when he finds out we haven’t even finished setup yet, let alone started shooting…” Darcy looked up at Nick, “I don’t understand what Elle sees in him! We were doing just fine without him!”

By the time Darcy had finished her tirade, Nick was on the ground and hugging her tightly. 

“You are not useless. You are brilliant.”

Darcy mushed her face into Nick’s chest and released a strangled scream into his shirt. Nick hugged her tighter, and took a chance.

“But Darce, if you were doing just fine…” Darcy turned her face up to his, “why do you have a fly-half steaming the drapes?”

To Nick’s relief, Darcy wrinkled her button nose and let out a chuckle. “Because I have a sixth sense for hidden talent- you’re doing a bang-up job, my guy!” 

With a final squeeze and a quick tickle of Nick’s sides, Darcy retreated towards her “supply” stash to fortify herself for the arrival of Spring/Winter. “Just, Nick, maybe try and go a smidge faster?” She called up as she passed the scissor lift. “Isaac?”

“Going as fast as I can,” came Isaac’s mild reply. 

Nick tried to shut out the chaos around him and absorb Issac’s calm as he resumed his methodical steaming. Just as Issac tied off the last drape and brought down the lift, a hush descended over the studio. 

“Winter is here.” came a frantic whisper over the radio. 

From on top of his ladder, Nick thought he heard Isaac mutter, “Oh for fuck’s sake.”

While Tara and Nick had entered the studio through the smaller of the studio doors, Charlie Spring apparently needed a grander entrance. Peering through the drapes and over the partition walls, Nick could see the top of the room-height loading door as it slid open. The mechanical grind and whoosh of air was loud in the otherwise quiet room. The silence was also broken by Tao’s shrill voice drifting from up front near the doors, audible even where Nick was working towards the back of the space.

“CHARLIE! We’re so glad you’re back!” 

Nick was determined to get the wrinkles out of the last drape before Charlie made it to Darcy’s set. The opening and closing of the tall loading door had sent gusts of air across the studio, and Nick worked as fast as he could in the whirling streams of rainbow fabric, steaming his way from the top of the final drape down to the ground.

Nick heard Tao’s voice getting closer as he spoke to Charlie. Darcy came skidding to a halt beside Nick just as he had reached the bottom of the ladder. 

“It’s not just winter, its a fucking Ice Age.” she hissed. “Get out, save yourself.”

“Not a chance, Olsson.” Nick braced himself as he heard Tao about to round the corner with the arsehole that had upset his friend. Anyone who had known Nick for more than five minutes immediately clocked what a gentle giant he was, but years of confrontation on the pitch had taught Nick how to be quite intimidating when need be. 

If this Charlie Spring bloke said anything even remotely unkind to Darcy, Nick was going to… well, give him a piece of his mind!

Tao came into view, continuing the unbroken monologue that Charlie’s arrival had unleashed.

“The lighting is mostly loaded in, but we’re waiting on some camera equipment-”

“What are you missing, equipment-wise? When is it getting here?” interrupted a surprisingly soft voice. Nick would have expected a harsher sound from the man who had all the blood in the room running cold. 

“Lenses for the Canons, somehow all of the ones in the kit are Nikons, they’re getting here at 4, maybe 5.”

“That’s too late.” Charlie Spring turned the corner and came to stand opposite Tao. 

Nick blinked.

And blinked again.

Curl Model tapped the straw protruding from his iced latte to his lower lip, brow furrowed in thought. 

“There must be some Canon lenses in this building, somewhere. Grab your team, get them each a list of exactly what you need, model numbers and all, and send one person to each floor to start asking around. We’ll pay a rental fee if we have to.” 

Tao’s gave a vigorously grateful nod before rushing away, one hand on his crooked beanie to keep it flying off his head. 

Curl Model - no, Charlie Spring - began to turn towards Nick and Darcy in their multicoloured chrysalis, when a breathless woman ran up to him, space buns askew. 

“Charlie! We have a situation.”

“Good morning to you too, Imogen,” said Charlie, his voice a gentle arctic breeze.

Imogen nervously tucked loose strands of blonde hair behind her ears. 

A safe distance away, a crowd had begun to gather.

“We’re missing a model. James hasn’t shown up yet, and his look is the most involved.  We could swap someone else in, but he’s 6 foot bloody 4 and none of the garments are going to fit-”

“Is he answering calls?”

“He picked up and told me he’d be here in thirty, but that was an hour ago!”

“Give me your phone.”

Imogen’s glitter-lined blue eyes widened. “What?”

“He won’t answer if he sees it’s me ringing him. Your phone please, Imogen.”

More people crept over, some cautiously peeking around equipment, to watch Charlie lift Imogen’s phone to his ear.

There was a pause, then a glacial greeting:

“James.”

A beat.

“James, here is how it is going to be.”

“You are going to get in an Uber within the next ten minutes. You are going to use every one of your wiles- or if that does not work, every pound in your wallet- to get the driver to have you here in twenty.”

Charlie jerked the phone away from his ear at the audible whine coming through the speaker. With a glare heavenwards, he continued.

“You will do your OWN bloody hair and makeup in the car if you have to, because we begin shooting in thirty-five minutes, and -” Charlie pulled the phone away from his ear again, holding the device in front of his face.

The chill in the air became a polar vortex.

“If- STOP TALKING- if you are not here, so help me, I will break every bone in your body, and then every one of your nails, and then EVERY heel on EVERY pair of your FUCKALL UGLY knock-off shoes, and THEN I will take a PICTURE of your sad, fired, UNFILTERED face and post it EVERYWHERE. 

A tinny wail sounded.

“UNEDITED JAMES.”

Charlie ended the call, nostrils flaring as he took several deep breaths in an attempt to regain his composure. He handed Imogen back her phone, and registered the silent, gobsmacked crowd staring at him in horror.

Charlie sighed. 

Then he watched two dozen pairs of eyes slowly track their gazes towards something behind him.

Charlie frowned. 

He spun around, and his face narrowly missed colliding with a broad chest. 

Charlie took a flustered step back. He carefully tilted his head up, and locked eyes with an auburn-haired Adonis who was smiling at Charlie like he’d hung the moon.

“Hi.”

Charlie blinked. 

“Hi.”

Chapter Text

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Four Days Ago

Charlie loved his mum. He really did. He understood his mum. Charlie came by his anxious perfectionism honestly, thank you very much, Jane Spring. Years of therapy and occasional medication had helped, but Charlie sometimes still went into a tailspin when faced with the unexpected or, even worse, the uncontrollable.

So yes, he had a lot of empathy for his mum.  

But sitting in the passenger seat of Tori’s car as she drove the speed limit towards Rochester, Charlie was also furious . His relationship with his mum had been closer to a Cold War during his difficult teenage years; never had Charlie felt the kind of hot rage he did now. 

Because Charlie loved his mum. 

But he absolutely adored Ollie. 

The youngest Spring sibling had texted Tori and Charlie at 3:09am on Friday asking if they could all Facetime later that morning before Ollie had to leave for school.

Charlie had rung Ollie back at 3:11am, and Tori had joined at 3:14.

When Charlie had come out to his parents as gay, they had not been even slightly surprised (which at the time he had honestly been sort of offended by). They had certainly worried about him, but they had always been worried about their sensitive middle child for one reason or another. 

When Tori had attempted to explain her asexuality to Jane and Julio, they hadn’t been able to comprehend it, much less get upset about it. Tori and her partner Michael passed for an allo-hetero couple at extended family gatherings, so Jane and Julio did not see any reason to acknowledge Tori’s identity at all. 

And their handling of teenage Charlie and Tori’s spiralling mental health? A years-long fiasco. Charlie had spent as much time in therapy working to get past the hurt his parents’ shortcomings had caused as he did managing his actual illnesses. 

Ollie, meanwhile, had been an easygoing baby, a sweet-tempered toddler, and as joyful a young child as Charlie and Tori had been dark and stormy. When Charlie had headed off to university, the eight year old seemed more than happy to be left alone to be doted after by their parents, who seemed to not-so-secretly be relieved to finally have a “normal” child. 

As the years passed and Ollie continued to thrive socially, academically, and emotionally, Charlie and Tori started to believe that kind, wonderful Ollie would avoid experiencing the trauma of their own teenage years. 

The elder Spring siblings were gutted as they watched an exhausted Ollie brush their chin-length hair away from their tear-stained face. “Mum said I was “being difficult” and “looking for attention.” When have I ever been difficult?!? They are acting like I’m mental .” 

“You are not mental,” said Charlie fiercely. 

“And Charlie would know,” said Tori with a smirk. 

Charlie let out an offended squeak, but was internally relieved when Ollie gave a wet chuckle. 

“Mum actually rolled her eyes and laughed at me,” Ollie swallowed back a sob, “and started on about grammar . I actually think the conversation would have gone better if I’d just come out as a girl. But I’m not . And it’s like who I am doesn’t matter .” Ollie placed their hands over their eyes. 

“I mucked this up, I should have had pamphlets or website links or a bloody Powerpoint or something to explain what being non-binary means, or like, written them a letter, or written down what I wanted to say, but I wasn’t planning on telling them, at least not till I left for uni, I wasn’t going to tell anyone, but now they know, and you know, and I told Grace and Pravat, and I am so relieved, but also like so so scared…”

Charlie and Tori were both fully packed by the time the call ended at 6am. 

When Charlie arrived at Studio 8 at 7:00am and pulled Elle and Tao aside to explain that he was leaving for Kent, they hadn’t hesitated. “Go,” said Tao. “Please tell Ollie we love them and that your parents are being bellends.” 

Elle nodded, for once not even attempting to admonish Tao for his bluntness. “You give Ollie the biggest hug from both of us.” She placed her hands on Charlie’s shoulders with a gentle squeeze. “And let me know if and when it is okay to reach out. I know Ollie’s experience is different, but I think I understand at least a little of what they are going through right now.”

Charlie was overwhelmed with gratitude. He didn’t deserve these incredible friends. “Thank you. I am so sorry, the timing is shit, I -”

“Family emergency or not, I will still make you put £5 in the Sorry Bank,” said Elle, booping Charlie’s nose and discreetly wiping his cheeks.

“Thanks to you, we’re in great shape here, Charlie. We’ve got this. Please don’t worry. Go do what you need to,” affirmed Tao. 

Charlie hugged his friends tightly before making a final circuit of the studio, relieved but still guilt-ridden when everyone assured him that load-in was proceeding right on schedule. He was checking in with Darcy when Tori rang to let him know she was downstairs with the car. 

Tori’s job had been to drive. Charlie’s had been to Google.

When they got to Rochester, they headed straight to Truham, and Ollie came bounding across the lot to greet them before the first bell. Charlie and Tori shared their proposed game plan for the next three days, and Ollie’s smile could have lit up all of Kent. 

Charlie and Tori had learned long ago that although direct confrontation worked quite well on Julio, who inevitably folded like a house of cards under pressure, it was not an effective method for dealing with Jane. Shock and Awe was the way to go. 

They picked up pizzas (including their parents’ favourites), and then Ollie from football practice after school. The trio arrived home with a chorus of effusive greetings, as if it were a foregone conclusion that Jane and Julio would be delighted by the surprise. While they were sincerely glad to see their older children, Jane fussed over their unexpected appearance, muttering that their bedrooms were in chaos because she was in the middle of reorganising upstairs. 

Charlie caught his father’s eye, and couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy despite how angry he was with his parents. Compulsive “organisation” had been one of the more obvious early signs of Charlie’s OCD. It was a coping mechanism when he was in severe distress. Jane either wouldn’t or couldn’t acknowledge it as one of many traits she shared with her son. 

Charlie and Tori assured their mum with bright smiles (which coming from Tori was actually rather unsettling), insisting that she needn’t go to any trouble on their account. They set up camp in Ollie’s room, building an actual blanket fort- pretensions of adulthood be damned- and then sequestering themselves for the rest of the night. 

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Three Days Ago

The next day was Saturday, and Charlie and Tori managed to cajole Jane and Julio into accompanying them for lunch with Ollie. As they had from the moment they’d arrived, the elder Spring siblings used they/them pronouns for Ollie as if it had never been otherwise. 

Charlie and Tori made it a point to ask Ollie all of the genuine, caring questions that their parents should have when Ollie had come out to them. They offered reassurances. They told Ollie they loved them. They essentially replayed the entire conversation they’d had in their blanket fort the previous night. 

They couldn’t tell their parents how to behave, but they could at least model what actual support looked like. 

When Jane asked their server about the location of the women’s room and was directed towards the gender neutral toilets at the back of the restaurant, Charlie and Tori surreptitiously fist-bumped under the table. 

Later that evening, just as Jane had begun to grill Charlie about whether he had any “real employment prospects,” Tori held up her iPad and announced that Michael wanted to Facetime with everyone. Jane and Julio loved Michael, who was possibly an even bigger ray of easygoing sunshine than Ollie. 

The two had always gotten on like a house on fire, and there was no guile in how Michael and Ollie inadvertently dominated the conversation. As a world-class speed skater, Michael was familiar with the challenges facing trans and non-binary athletes. 

“We’re so behind the times in England. My mate River is Canadian, and they have a gender-neutral passport.”

“REALLY?” Ollie bounced up and down on the sofa, and Charlie and Tori exchanged a look as their mum’s mouth dropped open.

“She’s afraid we’ll lose him to Canada,” whispered Tori. 

“Can you imagine?” Charlie whispered back. 

In Jane’s eyes, Canada might as well have been the moon. She had fully melted down when her two eldest had elected to settle in Greater London instead of moving home to Kent after university. As in, pull-out-the-label-maker levels of meltdown. It had been both maddening and sweet. 

“Oh yeah, loads of countries have the option of a gender-neutral marker on official docs instead of just “male” or “female”,” Michael went on. “Canada, Denmark, New Zealand, Pakistan-”

“ Pakistan ?” squawked Jane.

Charlie raised an eyebrow. Tori took a loud slurp of diet lemonade through her straw. Julio studied his shoes. Ollie examined the ceiling. Michael’s smile held steady. 

Jane blushed. 

“Sorry! I am just… surprised. Sorry. Go on Michael, dear.”

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Two Days Ago

On Sunday, Tori shrouded herself in long dark layers and an enormous black sun hat to drive Ollie to the seaside with Grace, Pravat, and Pravat’s dog. Charlie mentally shrouded himself in armour for alone-time with his parents. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to come?” asked Tori, giving Charlie a measured look over her sunglasses. She stood in the driveway next to the tall, jumper-and-short clad teenagers, looking for all the world like a tiny beach-bound witch. 

“I’m sure, thank you Tori. You lot have a great time.” Charlie bent to give Pravat’s Jack Russell a few farewell snuggles. 

“Who’s a good dog? Is it Pickles? Is it PICKLES? Is it yooooou?” 

“Charlie.”

“Right right- have fun!” 

As he watched the car drive away, Charlie steeled himself to reenter the house. He and Tori had successfully erected and defended a temporary perimeter around Ollie, but what Charlie had not expressed to Tori was that he knew from experience there was no real way to end a Jane Spring onslaught, only redirect it.

Hopefully with a whole day before them during which Jane could take Charlie to task over his underemployment, his singleness, his “unhealthy codependency” with Elle and Tao, and probably a few more things it hadn’t even occurred to Charlie to feel crap about, he could exhaust his mum’s munitions by the time Tori returned with Ollie. 

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Yesterday

The plan had been for both Charlie and Tori to leave early Monday morning after dropping Ollie off at school. However, in a burst of misplaced optimism, Ollie had attempted to walk out the door with a thin blue rhinestone headband holding back their curls. Jane insisted that the hairband broke Truham’s uniform regulations, Tori countered that she had worn hairbands all through school, and when Jane snatched the band right off Ollie’s head the ensuing five-way shouting match lasted until there was no choice but to let Ollie escape with Charlie and Tori to make to their first class on time. 

“It’s not really about the fucking hairband,” seethed Ollie.

“We know,” said Charlie, reaching from the back seat to place a hand on Ollie’s shoulder.

“It’s like… mum thinks if she hides the hairband in a cupboard somewhere, if she makes it disappear, the problem will disappear. But it’s me, HI, I’m the problem. It’s ME.” Ollie let out a quiet, bitter laugh unlike any Tori or Charlie had heard from them before. “They would prefer I disappear.”

“They do not . They’re being knobs, but they love you. They will come around, it’s just going to take time,” said Tori, placing a hand on Ollie’s knee where they sat in the passenger seat as Charlie continued to squeeze Ollie’s shoulder. “Just do what I always did and change into anything they might find risque after you get where you’re going.”

Charlie and Ollie turned their heads to stare at their sister in surprise.

“Victoria Annabel Spring,” grinned Charlie. 

Tori shrugged. “I may have been an ace teenager, but I was still a teenager.”

After an evening of awkward apologies, painfully awkward hugs, and the sheepish return of a hairband, Charlie took the train back to London. Tori elected to stay one more night (though at her friend Becky’s house) and take Ollie to school in the morning before heading home to Michael. 

Charlie alighted at Abbey Wood; living in Zone 4 had its drawbacks, but tonight he was grateful that the flat he shared with Tao and Elle was incredibly convenient for rail travel to Kent. More importantly, it was cheap. For London, anyway. 

Charlie tiptoed through the repurposed living room in socked feet despite knowing that the chances of stepping on a stray needle or safety pin were high. The space mostly served as Elle’s studio, with the exception of one corner taken up by Tao’s impressive video editing setup. 

Tao had initially been using one of the bedrooms as his editing suite, but when Charlie had confessed to his friends that he was considering asking to move back in with his parents, Tao had all of his equipment cleared out of the small room and a bed and nightstand in its place almost overnight. 

Tao moved through life with his foot permanently in his mouth (and occasionally with his head up his arse), but like Elle he was ride-or-die for his chosen family. 

Charlie continued quietly past Elle and Tao’s bedroom, past the bedroom that had been taken over by Elle’s garments (and admittedly some of her and Charlie’s personal wardrobes) and into his own cosy space to collapse face first onto the duvet. 

Ordinarily Charlie would have never fallen asleep without going through his skincare regimen, and curl regimen, and brushing and flossing his teeth, and reviewing his to-do list for the next day… but he was shattered . 

His hip pocket buzzed, and he heaved himself over to pull out his phone, squinting at the bright screen in the dark room. Elle and Tao had either been waiting up for him, or woken when he came in despite his attempts to be quiet. 

Elle: Hope all went well. 

Tao: Please don’t worry about getting in at 7. Come in at noon. 

Elle: Chia cup in the fridge for you. X

11:00, thought Charlie as he set his alarm, I’ll be in at 11 at the latest. 

Charlie wriggled out of his clothes and crawled under the covers in his pants. As he sunk into his lumpy mattress, he smiled imagining Tori walking Ollie into school the next morning. 

Ollie was determined to wear their hairband tomorrow despite how badly Jane had shaken their confidence. At 17, Ollie was already the tallest of the Springs at 6 feet and counting. The image of 5 '2'' Tori acting as bodyguard for their walk through the school gates was as funny as it was heart-wrenchingly familiar. The tiniest Spring had always been the bravest of them, and the most ferocious of protectors. 

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Four Hours Ago

Charlie had woken up to an empty flat at 8:30 on Tuesday morning, and dutifully spooned breakfast into his mouth as he sat in the tiny, light-filled kitchen while waiting for the first coffee of the day to kick in. Without Tao or Elle around to object to his music choices, he connected his phone to the bluetooth speaker Elle kept by her worktable. Charlie brought the speaker with him into the bathroom so that Muse and The Strokes could energise and focus him as he showered, dressed, and coaxed his hair into submission. 

The commute to the studio would take Charlie about an hour, not including a detour for one more coffee. He had realised on the train last night that he had left his earpods in Tori’s car- at least, he hoped that was where they were. Music was integral to Charlie’s daily routine, and he was dreading the long journey into the city without it to get himself in the zone. 

While he did have an old pair of Beats headphones that he used with his electric drum set, those were not an option. They wreaked havoc on his hair, and Charlie was feeling too close to falling apart to let himself walk into that studio looking anything other than completely, unshakably put together. 

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Two Hours Ago

Delays on the Underground (so what else was new?) eventually drove Charlie to exit and walk the rest of the way to the studio. After quickly consulting Citymapper, Charlie pocketed his phone and turned into the park and down the tree-lined path. While he was frustrated to be getting in later than he had hoped, the walk was helping ease his anxiety. 

The last four days had been a lot, and Charlie knew he had yet to really process any of it. He had been secretly struggling even before Thursday’s Facetime with Ollie, battling imposter syndrome and the terrifying possibility of letting Elle down.  

And, assuming he didn’t cock the whole thing up, once he was done helping Elle launch her collection he would have to face the small matter of what exactly he was going to do with the rest of his life since walking away from a nice, safe, soul-crushing career in accounting five months earlier. 

Right, Charlie. Enough of that. 

Charlie took in his surroundings. He watched the picnicking families, lounging couples, and a football being kicked across the grass. He was distracted from surveying the park hopefully for dogs by the slap of something against his ankles. Looking down, he saw that one of his Converse laces had come undone. Not wanting to kneel on the bare ground and risk dirtying his jeans (which were also tight enough that squatting that far could prove... challenging) Charlie scanned the path ahead of him. One side of the bench nearest him was occupied by two women knitting, and a boy was just taking a seat on the other end. 

Charlie said a prayer for his jeans (and his junk) before kneeling down to re-tie his laces. As he tossed his head to shake his hair out of his face, he caught a glimpse of the boy on the bench.

The kid was clearly not being cared for judging by the state of his clothes, and was obviously in distress. While he continued to dally with his shoes, Charlie was actually closely observing the interaction between the women and the upset boy. He watched as the bespectacled youth finally worked up the nerve to speak to the women next to him, only to have them ignore his existence and walk away. 

The boy on the bench looks nothing like Ollie, but as the kid curls into a ball and rocks his body back and forth on the bench, Charlie sees Ollie weeping over Facetime. 

He thinks about how Ollie had, in the absence of anyone in Rochester to physically comfort them, had repeatedly run their fingers through their hair in a desperate attempt to self-soothe. 

Charlie watches the boy on the bench, but hears Ollie. 

It’s like who I am doesn’t matter.

They would prefer I disappear.

And then, from the depths of his memory, Charlie recalls his sister’s voice.

Don’t let anyone make you disappear.

Moments later, Charlie finds himself taking a cautious seat on the bench across from the boy.

“Hi.”

The kid’s head jolted up towards him. Charlie doubted that he could see much through his beat up glasses, but judging by how thick the lenses were, even scratched glasses would be miles better than no glasses. 

Charlie took in the frightened expression on the kid’s face, and had to consciously let his icy public facade fall away. He gave a tentative smile.

“You seem like you’re having a shite day. Me too, quite frankly. Want to talk about it?”

A few moments passed. And then-

“My whole life is shite right now,” said the lad in a thick Scouse accent. He looked down at his knees and fell silent.

“I’m Charlie, what’s your name?”

“Theo.”

“Hullo Theo. I don’t know why your life is shite right now, but when I feel shite, I find a very large coffee helps. Would you like to get one with me,” Charlie took a chance, “and maybe some food?”

“I've not got any money.”

“Good thing I do then.”

“You’re just going to buy me food?”

“Mhmm.”

“If I come with you…” Charlie picked up on Theo’s anxiety and quickly clarified:

“To a very public coffee shop on a highly trafficked street. Or, if you'd rather, I can go grab sandwiches, bring you one, and then fuck off.”

Theo stared at Charlie in disbelief. “Why?”

“Because I know what it feels like to have a hideous day, and to have no one around who gives a shite about my hideous day, and how it’s all so much worse when you’re hungry and thirsty and tired.”

Theo turned his head back to his knees, considering, before giving a timid nod. 

As they walked, Charlie asked Theo a few questions, treading gently. By the time the two arrived at the coffee shop a short walk from the park, he had the basic strokes of Theo’s situation. He was 16. Home in Liverpool was bad. His dad was awful, mum no longer in the picture. His mum’s sister lived in London. Theo had left Liverpool in the middle of the night following an event he wouldn’t or couldn’t share with Charlie, with a vague plan to find her.

“You haven’t been able to contact her?” asked Charlie as he held the cafe door open for Theo.

“No. My da smashed my phone. Before I left. Don’t know her number. I think her actual name is different from what mum used to call her.” 

Charlie’s mind raced as he stepped up to the till with Theo to order. By the time the two exited the shop, he had mentally rehearsed his plea to Theo several times over. 

“Theo, I’m really glad you agreed to come here with me, but you need to be careful about going off with people you don’t know. London is full of great folks, but also real…”

“Pervs?”

“Yes. I don’t have a place to offer you to stay- I’m honestly sort of squatting myself.”

Theo looked up and down at Charlie’s designer outfit, justifiably sceptical. Charlie could not help letting out an embarrassed chuckle.

“Yes, I know. But it’s true. I don’t know how to help you find your aunt either, but I do know somewhere safe you can go while you search for her, and that can perhaps even help you find her.” 

Charlie wasn’t sure that Theo would be able to find his aunt, but he was certain that Theo wasn’t safe alone in London sleeping goodness knows where. Charlie pulled out the spare Oyster card he kept on hand for emergencies and handed it to Theo. Then, silently thanking powers he didn’t believe in that he was familiar with the area from his time as a UCL student, Charlie wrote down directions to three different social services centres that were within walking distance from Euston Station.  

Theo was overwhelmed as Charlie tucked the directions into the bag of cafe food and handed it over. He bent down to meet Theo’s eyes, and made the boy promise to seek help, even if he had to visit all three centres to find it. 

And as he bid Theo farewell, Charlie poured all of Tori he could into his voice as he said,

“Don’t let anyone make you disappear.”

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One Hour Ago

Charlie had intended to head straight to the studio after sending Theo off, but his body made a different decision for him. He had backtracked to the park, sat down on a bench, and focused on breathing.

In.

He thought about Theo. 

Out.

He thought about Ollie.

In.

He thought about Tori, and the people in his own life who had kept him from disappearing. 

Out.

When he had been outed as a teen- a child, really- he had been bullied mercilessly. It had been physical, and verbal, but somehow the worst part of it all had been the staring. In the corridors, in the canteen, in classes… No matter what he did, he had seemed to attract notice. 

Charlie had done everything he could to make himself small. To disappear. Even after Tori had finally convinced Charlie to seek help, he had never been able to shake the conviction that invisibility would keep him safe . It would mean he could be, if not happy, at least at peace. 

He held on to this belief as he entered university. Sometimes his peers would catch unintentional, fleeting glimpses of the real Charlie and discover that the standoffish boy in the oversized knit jumper was secretly clever, and funny, and kind. But it was only ever glimpses, never the full picture. Charlie made sure of that. 

Then his roommate Issac, the only person Charlie could be even somewhat himself around, had dragged him to She Bar’s Monday night pub quiz. There, Charlie had met Elle. And everything changed.

Though he was loath to admit it, Charlie had been pursuing a degree in Maths at UCL primarily to appease his parents. He had liked his course fine, but spent far more time on his electives in music and literature, and was even secretly auditing a class in Greek Mythology. Meeting Elle and her friends at UAL had been confirmation that Charlie was living a lie. For the first time in his life, surrounded by a group of passionate, odd, queer arts students, Charlie had finally felt like he had found his people. 

But it was Elle that he had clicked with the most, and immediately. They had been stunned when Issac had mentioned that they were both originally from Rochester, and after the quiz ended the two of them had stayed up till 4am walking and talking tipsily through Soho and then (slightly) more soberly along the Thames. From that point on, the two were inseparable. 

Elle was only a year older than Charlie, but she had seemed much wiser. Charlie had been struggling with his relationship with his body for years, and he admired how confident and unapologetic Elle was in her own- even when the world around them was determined to make her feel otherwise. 

When Charlie had said as much one night as the two were getting a movie set up in Charlie and Issac’s flat (though Tao was sure to veto it as soon as he arrived), Elle had snuggled right up next to him. 

“I came out on my own terms, and my family was amazing so I had a lot of support, which helped. But Charlie, I struggle too.”

Charlie had tucked his sweater paws between his thighs as he turned towards Elle. “You do?”

“Of course. I think everyone does though, yeah? Not just gay people or trans people.”

Charlie had sat silently for a few moments. “What helps?” he asked quietly.

Elle had leaned her face to his and grinned deviously. “How about I show you?”

The next morning, Charlie had found himself hyperventilating in a consignment shop that was far too trendy for him, slowly collapsing under the mountain of clothing that Elle had continued to pile in his arms as she dragged him around the store. 

“I was already this tall by the time I turned 15, so there was no way I could avoid attention. And, I know this sounds vain but you know what, it’s true: my face is gorg, always has been, because I look like my gorgeous mum, and self-accountability requires that I acknowledge my Pretty Privilege,” Elle declared as she hooked a clothes hanger over Charlie’s forearm. 

“When I realised there was no possibility of hiding for me, I thought, fuck it. ” She guided Charlie towards shoes as she continued.

“Some folks use clothes as camouflage, as a way to cocoon themselves off from the world. Which for the record I am totally here for, we stan a quiet, cosy look.” Elle picked up a pair of Cole Haans and examined them critically before wrinkling her nose and placing them back on the rack. 

“Sometimes we need camouflage to be safe. But sometimes… we need armor.”

Satisfied with the two shoe options in her hands, Elle steered Charlie to the changing area. At just after 10am on a Tuesday, they were the only customers in the store. This had come as a particular relief to Charlie when he noticed that the changing booths themselves did not have mirrors in them, and that the only way he would be able to see the clothes he tried on would be in the large mirror at the end of the row of booths, out in the open. 

Elle helped Charlie arrange top, trouser, and shoe options in the largest changing booth. She stepped out, and Charlie pulled the heavy curtain partition closed before turning to face the terrifying sea of options before him.

Elle broke the silence. “I read this great quote once from an American model, and it is petty and perfect and you have to promise not to tell anyone that this is what I tell myself before I get dressed at least every other morning.”

Charlie smiled on the other side of the curtain. “Bet.”

“Always dress like you are going to see your worst enemy.” 

Charlie gasped in delight. “Savage.”

“Yes, and effective. Picture your worst enemy, Charlie Spring. You are going to meet them. What are you wearing?” 

Charlie heard the click of Elle’s heels as she walked away. “I'll be by the mirrors at the end when you’re ready.” 

19 year old Charlie stands in front of a jumble of clothes that are definitely not secondhand XL jumpers from Oxfam, and he thinks.

He thinks of Harry Greene, the rugby lad who made his school days intolerable. 

He thinks of Ben Hope, his closeted, secret ex-boyfriend who had never really been his boyfriend at all. 

He thinks about the reflection of his 16-year old self in the bathroom mirror, the last time he had locked himself away with a razor. 

He looks down at the pile in front of him.

He thinks of Ben, and picks up a pair of tight stovepipe jeans that will accentuate his bum- which, despite unrelenting pressure and flattery and begging from Ben, he had never let Ben near, and now never would, thank you very much. 

He thinks of Harry Greene, and slips on the platform Converse shoes. Yes, Converse aren’t a groundbreaking look for him, but what he loves about these is not just the added height they give him, but the heft of them. Like they’d do some damage if one were to find its way towards Harry’s balls. With force. 

He thinks of his hurting, confused teenage self, and selects a cosy fitted cashmere turtleneck. He slips the sweater on; it’s a deep green that is almost black. It feels like a hug. 

Safely ensconced behind the dressing room curtain, Charlie runs calloused fingers across soft fabric as he wraps his arms around his 16 year old self. 

That Charlie was never the enemy. 

With a deep breathe, Charlie pulls back the partition with a swoosh of curtain rings. He keeps his eyes downcast as he walks towards Elle, but feels more grounded than he did when he first walked into the store. Perhaps it's the weight of the shoes. 

He tries not to cringe as he hears Elle gasp.

“Is it bad?”

“Oh, Charlie, no. Look.”

Charlie squeezes his eyes shut as he tilts his head up towards the mirror. He shakes his curls out with a huff.

“Charlie.”

He opens his eyes. 

Oh.

Oh shit.  

As 25 year old Charlie rises assuredly from the park bench, icy composure restored, 19 year old Charlie stands stunned at his reflection. Elle leans over, her voice like magic in Charlie’s ear.

“You know what other quote I love?”

19 year old Charlie meets Elle’s gaze in the mirror. She grins.

“People will stare. Make it worth their while.”

🍂🍃🍂🍃🍂🍃

Now

“Hi.”

Well, Charlie thought.

People certainly were staring.

Chapter Text

Nick knew that post-concussion syndrome could manifest in a myriad of ways. Gaps in memory, aphasia, personality changes... His documented medical condition had to be the reason he had blinked and suddenly found himself standing in front of Charlie Spring with no recollection of how he had gotten there, unable to get a single word out beyond “Hi.” 

He watched as Charlie opened his mouth to speak. 

Nick- and the peanut gallery in Nick’s periphery- held their breath.

🍂🍃🍂🍃🍂🍃

Charlie shut his mouth with a defeated huff. 

He tore his eyes away from the oddly expectant man in front of him - for fuck’s sake, it was like staring at the sun - and fought to get a sentence together. 

This ginger god had looked at Charlie like he knew him, but Charlie was certain they had never met. He would have remembered those absurd arms and that stupidly sweet smile. 

Who the fuck was this guy? 

And moreover, thought Charlie hysterically, how dare he? 

Charlie’s heart rate spiked as he felt the stares of the crew members peering from around road cases and garment racks, or who were simply openly gawking. 

(The small part of Charlie’s brain not overcome with irrational panic was almost impressed that this group of useless numpties, who were MORE THAN TWENTY FOUR HOURS BEHIND SCHEDULE, had the audacity to stand there staring instead of doing their BLOODY JOBS.)

He was about to take a sip of his iced coffee to stall for time-  or perhaps have a go at drowning himself in it- when the familiar click of heels heralded his rescue. 

“Springtime has returned! We missed you, love,” crooned Elle, throwing her arms around Charlie’s shoulders as she embraced him from behind. “I see you’ve already met Nick Nelson. He’s a good friend of Tara and Darcy’s who has been helping us set up this morning.”

Elle released Charlie, and he turned to face her concerned smile. Tara was by her side, and she stepped away to whisper quietly to Nick. 

Elle leaned in towards Charlie with a murmured, “Ollie alright?” 

Charlie gave her a nod and a lightning-quick flash of dimples. “Yes, thank you. Tell you all about it la-”

A mischievous voice behind him interrupted. 

“Nick here has indeed been a godsend, Master Calendar, SIR.”

Charlie grimaced as he turned back around, bracing himself for the combined sensory assault of Darcy Olson and Nick Nelson.

Nick Nelson . 

The name sounded like the civilian alter-ego of a Marvel superhero. 

Peter Parker. Matt Murdock. Jessica Jones. 

Nick Nelson.

Release us. 

Darcy locked eyes with Charlie as she reached into her chest pocket for a handful of gummy bears and picked out yellow, blue, and red gummies to hand to Tara, Nick, and Elle respectively. She held Charlie’s gaze as she shoved the rest into her mouth.

Which was fine. Charlie didn’t even like gummies. Not even the yellow ones, which were the only ones worth eating, if one had to eat gummies. Which he absolutely did not want to. 

“Has he now?” said Charlie, focusing his attention on the pastel-haired menace and determinedly ignoring the glow of Nick Nelson in his peripheral vision. 

(Was he a radioactive superhero?)

🍂🍃🍂🍃🍂🍃

Nick was starting to worry that he had actually lost the ability to speak. He chewed his gummy dazedly as Darcy went on.

“Nick and Tara trekked across London with the last supplies we needed to get the first set finished. The lights are sorted, the fans are sorted- we’re ready to rock!” She raised her voice to call out, “Isn’t that right Issac?”

Nick, Tara, Elle, and Charlie followed Darcy’s gaze to see Issac standing next to the tall, colourful assemblage of (completely wrinkle-free) drapes. The protective floor covering had been removed along with the ladders and lift, revealing a pristine glossy white surface below. 

Issac nodded at Darcy, then took a few steps backwards while swiping and selecting options displayed on the iPad in his hands. 

Nick heard the electric whirr of fans and the hum of lighting instruments powering on. The drapes began to swirl in a gentle dance of light and fabric, and the floor below reflected the shifting hues. Darcy lifted her arms in the air in triumph, hopped out of her Doc Martens, and ran right into the middle of the soft rainbow swirls in her socked feet. 

Nick found himself beaming as much at Tara’s proud, smitten expression as he was at Darcy’s gleeful frolicking through the riot of light and fabric. 

Elle had brought both hands to her cheeks in delight, and when Issac activated the mirror ball hung in the centre of the billowing drapes, she lost all composure and clapped her hands as she bounced up and down. Grabbing Tara’s hand, Elle kicked off her platform pumps, Tara stepped out of her trainers, and the two bounded over to join Darcy. 

As Elle, Darcy, and Tara gestured excitedly, crew members stepped forward to give Issac pats on the back, yelling out compliments at Darcy for her design. 

Nick felt an increasingly familiar full-body swoop when he saw Charlie break out into a dimpled smile. Keeping his eyes on Elle, Charlie took a small step sideways and tilted his head towards Nick. His hair smelt like spice and citrus, and Nick resisted the urge to turn and inhale more deeply. 

“Thank you for helping make this happen,” said Charlie quietly. “I’ll have someone get you a timecard so you can be compensated.” Charlie didn’t look at Nick as he spoke, so he did not see Nick’s frown at this. “The hourly rate is honestly abysmal, but we cover meals for shifts longer than 6 hours, so keep your receipts.”

Nick wanted to say, “Since you’re covering lunch, can I take you to dinner?” or something equally clever, or just something , but he was interrupted by a frantic screech. 

“CHARLIE. ELLE.”

Imogen careened around the corner, phone clutched in one hand and eyes wide with panic. Her space buns had completely fallen apart, and her hair was now piled hastily on top of her head and held aloft with what looked like a pen and a makeup brush. 

“WE HAVE A NEW SITUATION.” 

Nick mourned the disappearance of Charlie’s dimples. Issac hit more buttons on his iPad, and the fans and lights powered down. The billowing drapes settled into anticipatory stillness as Elle, Darcy, and Tara rushed over to where Charlie stared icily at Imogen, Nick hovering awkwardly behind him. 

“Charlie,” Imogen breathed, “Elle, I am so sorry, I have awful news. Everything has gone tits up, and I…” Imogen’s train of thought derailed as she spotted Nick. “Oh. Hello there.” 

“Imogen,” Charlie growled. 

“Sorry, sorry! Right. Okay. Um, it’s James. He was doing exactly what you asked, Charlie.”

Imogen gestured to her phone, and the group gathered around her to read the string of texts from James. 

“He was out the door almost immediately,” Imogen explained, “but he was in such a rush that he took a tumble down the stairs in front of his building, and now he’s on his way to A&E, his ankle is definitely sprained, maybe broken, and, um, he’s so sorry but, but… yeah, he’s not going to make it here. At all.” 

The group winced as a photo of James’ mangled ankle popped up in the chat, clearly taken in the back of an ambulance. 

“Oh poor James!” exclaimed Elle. Tara and Darcy made sympathetic noises in agreement. 

“He had it coming,” said Charlie flatly. 

The group (and the entire eavesdropping crew) let out a host of horrified noises. Charlie recoiled sheepishly. 

“I didn’t. I just meant-  alright LOOK, do you see the boots this twit had on?” Charlie pointed an accusatory finger at Imogen’s screen. “Cirque du Soleil acrobats would not be able to balance in those hideous heels.”

A ping from Imogen’s phone heralded another message from the fallen model.

JAMES: hurts something awful, but lordy Immy this paramedic is FIT as-

Imogen powered off the phone screen before anyone had the chance to find out exactly how fit.

Charlie, Elle, Darcy, Tara, and Imogen all stared at the dark phone. 

They slowly raised their gazes to exchange stunned looks. 

Then everyone started speaking at once. 

Nick remained mute as the group descended into panic. Charlie was apologising to Elle for not having contingency plans in place. Elle was stomping her foot and wagging a finger in the air yelling about a “Sorry Bank.” Tara was cutting in with creative proposals for movement James could do with a cast on. Imogen was wailing that she was just the messenger, and it wasn’t fair that everyone was mad at her. Darcy was trying to assure her that NO ONE WAS MAD AT IMOGEN.

Nick was about to pull out his best Rugby Captain moves to break up the increasingly hysterical group when Charlie’s voice rose above the noise.

“QUIET!” Charlie roared.  

If Nick had not been as terrified as everyone else in the room, he would have been more turned on than he had ever been in his whole bloody life.

“Thank you,” said Charlie. “Right. I know this is a blow, but if we- “

“Why is everybody just standing around? Charlie?!?” hollered Tao as he approached their huddle.

The uproar resumed. Charlie put his head in his hands. 

“I have a thought.” A quiet voice somehow cut through the cacophony. No one had noticed Isaac come over. Several dozen pairs of eyes turned hopefully towards him. 

Isaac was the picture of calm rationality. “The problem is that we are short one tall, built, male-presenting model, yes?”

Nick nodded along with everyone else. 

The corner of Isaac’s mouth turned up. He turned to look at Nick. 

And held his gaze. 

Nick frowned in confusion. 

Elle, Tao, Darcy, Tara, Imogen, and Charlie all slowly turned to look at Nick. 

What?

The entire production crew turned to look at Nick. 

What…

…

…

…

Oh, Nick thought. 

Oh no. 

🍂🍃🍂🍃🍂🍃

Charlie knew that Issac was right. While Nick looked to have more muscle on him than James did, he more or less fit the body type they needed. Charlie and Elle had gone to great lengths to cast folks with a diverse range of figures and gender expression. With some magic from Imogen, and Elle’s styling, Nick would slot right into place. 

Charlie dreaded the thought of having this infuriatingly hot, sweet-faced (possibly mute?) man in his bubble for the remainder of the campaign. When Charlie found a man attractive, he had one rule: run the fuck away. Especially if that man was as straight as Nick obviously was. An unrequited crush was never a good look, doubly so if there would never be even the slightest chance of reciprocation. Charlie had enough reasons to feel crap about himself. There was no need to add more fuel to the dumpster fire.

He steeled himself to ask Nick his thoughts on Isaac’s idea when Tao cut in. 

“Rugby Lad may be a looker, but good looks alone do not a fashion model make, especially for this campaign- no offence Nick!”

Charlie’s stomach fell at “Rugby Lad.” That explained the arms, then. Nick didn’t seem to be anything like the aggressive chavs that had tortured Charlie in school...  but then again, he had yet to actually hear Nick speak. 

“We’ve said from the beginning that we are committed to casting queer and body-diverse models,” Tao explained. “Not to the exclusion of talented folks, but we’ve already got our token Classically Handsome Straight White Man in Ben-”

- it took a HERCULEAN effort for Charlie not to gag over that-

“- so Nick, though convenient, because I mean he’s right here , would not be the right replacement.”

Charlie was about to tell Tao that his Good Ally Intentions were giving him a serious case of the ick, when a voice said,

“Erm...”

He speaks. 

Charlie’s eyes snapped to Nick. 

Nick swallowed. Charlie watched a blush spread across his face and down towards the V neck of his (tight, for the love of God there was no need for it to be so TIGHT) vest. 

Nick exchanged a quick glance with Tara and Darcy, and Charlie saw Tara reach out to clutch Darcy’s hand. 

Was he imagining it, or were the girls’ wide eyes looking oddly teary?

Nick inhaled. 

“I’m bi, actually.”

In the silence that followed, the grins that spread across Tara and Darcy’s faces could have powered the whole studio. Perhaps all of London. 

“Oh,” said Tao. “Sorry for assuming.” 

“All good,” rasped Nick. 

Tara swiped at her face before twirling towards Charlie and Elle. 

“I already know I can work with Nick. He moves beautifully.” She turned to address the group. “He’s obviously incredibly coordinated as a professional athlete, but- and not many people know this- he and I actually met in dance class!”

Nick whines, and Charlie feels absolutely no type of way about it. “Jonesey I was six.” 

“I maintain that you missed your calling.”

The conversation was interrupted by the theme music of Interstellar. Tao looked down at his phone.

 “Oh thank fuck, they found the lenses. Darcy, I’ll radio you when we have a go-time.”

“Nick.” Elle stepped over and met his eyes. “Why don’t we go chat for a bit? Imogen, can we use your makeup booth?” 

Nick cast a frantic look over at Tara, who reached out to slip an arm around Nick’s, and together they followed Elle towards the cluster of partitions.

As Charlie watched them walk away, half his brain was already running through calendars and call sheets and shot lists, determining the best way to get everything back on schedule. 

The other half was, against his will, throwing a big queer dance party, and when the bridge of Nails Hair Hips Heels dropped, the lyrics sounded something like:

Bi actu-lly, I’m act-u-ally BI

Bi actu-lly, I’m ACT-U-ALLY BI

Confetti rained. 

Charlie despaired. 

“I agree with Tara that Nick missed his calling as a dancer.” Charlie was almost grateful when Darcy startled him out of his reverie. She and Issac were both looking at him curiously, heads tilted towards each other.

Charlie’s gratitude evaporated as he watched the two exchange a look.  

Darcy stage-whispered to Issac, “I mean, I may be a complete lesbian, and Nick is like a brother to me,” she turned her head to beam wickedly at Charlie, “but can you imagine that bum in tights????”

🍂🍃🍂🍃🍂🍃

Elle was worried by Nick’s shell-shocked expression as they stepped into a large, empty booth with makeup tables and mirrors running along its perimeter. 

“We didn’t mean to put you on the spot out there, Nick. You absolutely do not even have to have a conversation about modelling if you don’t want to. You’ve helped us so much today already, and we’re incredibly grateful.” 

Elle pulled three chairs away from the dressing tables and set herself across from Nick. Tara placed her hands on Nick’s shoulders to guide him gently into his chair, pulling her own chair close so she could rest a hand on his bouncing knee. 

Nick’s chest rose and fell rapidly as he spoke. “It’s not the modelling thing that has me nervy, though honestly the idea feels a bit mad. It’s that. I just. I’ve never…that was…” His voice trailed off as he struggled to slow his breathing. 

Tara squeezed his knee tighter. “I’m so so SO proud of you, Nick. And I know Darcy is too.” 

Elle looked back and forth between Tara’s tearful smile and Nick’s quivering one, then lifted a hand to her mouth in a rush of realisation. 

“Oh my god Nick, when you said you were bi, was that…” 

Nick looked at Elle. “Yeah, I just came out to a room full of people.” 

Elle was bemused as Nick and Tara burst into giggles. 

“Oh my god,” Nick tittered hysterically. 

“You look like you’re going to pass out,” gasped Tara as she shook with laughter. 

Elle scooched forward and gestured for Nick to lean over and put his head between his knees. Tara got up out of her chair and lay down on her back on the floor, her face upturned towards Nick’s. Without missing a beat, Elle grabbed a clean smock off a hook, placed it on the floor, and lay on top of it on the other side of Nick. 

The women were relieved to see Nick chuckle as he gazed down at their concerned faces, though he was still worryingly pale. 

“Nick,” Elle ventured quietly, “did all of the things Tao said- which I am so sorry about, by the way, he means well but sometimes it all comes out so poorly - did what he said make you feel pressured to come out?“

Nick’s face was thoughtful as he considered her question. “No,” he said finally, looking down at Elle. ”People have made assumptions before, and I’ve never corrected them.”

“Then why today Nick? I’m chuffed, just curious, and a little confused,” said Tara.

“I don’t know, to be honest,” Nick confessed. Elle and Tara watched as his gaze turned inwards. “I mean, even though the culture of pro rugby isn’t nearly as homophobic as it used to be, it’s still awful. Now that I’m out, it’s been feeling safer to be, well… out. I guess maybe that’s it.” Nick smiled down at Elle and Tara. “It feels safe here.” 

Elle felt a pang at the awe in Nick’s voice at the word ‘safe’. “I’m so glad, Nick.” 

“Me too,” beamed Tara. She gave Nick’s calf an affectionate squeeze. “Does it feel good to have said it out loud?”

Nick beamed back. “Fuck yes. ”

A tinkle of sliding curtain rings and the faint waft of Flowerbomb announced Imogen’s entrance into the booth.

“Uh oh, divas down! Everything alright in here?”

“All good. Sometimes even divas need to lie down,” Elle replied airily from the floor. She and Tara got gracefully to their feet, starting at Imogen’s impressive costume change. 

“Well, I am glad that naptime is over, because we have work to do with you, Nicholas.” Imogen flipped her perfectly coiffed ponytail and smoothed out her denim mini dress. Nick gingerly brought himself upright, looking newly alarmed. 

“Imogen,” Elle said, “Nick hasn’t actually agreed to model for us yet.”

“Well he will after he sees these ! I’ve got the proofs from our test shoot with James a few weeks ago. Nicholas, obviously we’d use a different blush on you, and I think we should skip base because those freckles are just to die for-”

It was clear to Elle and Tara that Nick was no longer listening as he took in the cascade of glossy photos pouring from the folder in Imogen’s hands. 

“- but I do think we’ll want to keep the eye, it tows the line between femme and masc in the same way the garments do. Elle might have already asked this, but do you have any skin sensitivities we should know about? Not just cosmetics-wise. The trousers and that skirt are all natural fibres, but this button-up shirt is actually latex, though the net vest underneath is a cotton that makes it much more wearable…”

As Imogen waxed lyrical about wearable latex, Elle became concerned that they’d have to take the conversation back to the floor if Nick grew any paler.

“Imogen,” Elle said kindly but firmly, wrapping an arm around her effervescent Head of Makeup, “your work in these photographs is so beautiful. I’d love to give these test shots to poor James as a present. If he can’t be in the campaign, these are the next best thing.” 

Elle gave Imogen a gentle pat on the back as she stepped away, taking the photos with her and carefully returning them to their folder. “I know Nick will look equally incredible in the looks we come up with for him, if he agrees to model.” 

Imogen, finally cottoning on, looked abashed as she pressed her lips together. She remained silent as Elle turned to Nick.

“Nick, if you were to step in for James, you wouldn’t be stepping in as James. You would be Nick, wearing garments from L’Argent, selected for you, styled for and with YOU. We aren’t copying and pasting looks here. That is the opposite of what I want these clothes to do.”

Elle’s eyes flashed as she continued.

“Homogenous heteronormative patriarchal European beauty standards were all I saw in fashion growing up, and it was toxic. I know it was even worse for my mum; she has a collection of magazines from the 80s and 90s in the attic that I found when I was maybe 8 or 9, and I have no idea how she made it to adulthood with her self-esteem intact. 

I don’t want to make clothes for airbrushed, “sample size” models. I want to create a line that gives real folks of all shapes and sizes and personal styles room to play and express themselves, not my brand .”

Elle paused to catch her breath, so caught up in her impromptu speech that she did not notice Charlie and Tao slide silently into the booth. 

“I do realize that part of creating a successful clothing line is establishing a brand. It’s easier to market a clear and cohesive aesthetic, a certain style and way of not just dressing but being … and fuck, I don’t know, maybe that is the safer way to do things, but I don’t want to make mass-produced garments for filtered influencer clones to peddle on TikTok.”

Elle placed a hand on Tara's shoulder as she spoke earnestly to Nick. “That’s why we have Tara on board as our movement consultant. She is here to help our models find joy in the way the clothes make them feel in their bodies and about themselves. There’s no filter in the world that can do that.”

A beat of silence, and then:

“That was a monologue on par with a Tao Tirade (™).” 

Charlie’s cheeky greeting was undercut by the open admiration on his face. Tao meanwhile was mooning at Elle with such a besotted expression that even Nick could see how far gone the strange man in the beanie was for her. 

Elle quickly regained her composure, flipping her hair over her shoulder and briefly fidgeting with her earrings before responding. “I just want Nick to understand what we’re trying to do here so that he can make an informed decision about whether he wants to be part of it.”

Charlie smiled and nodded, then ducked his head and kept his eyes on his clipboard as he spoke.

“Nick, I know we put a lot of pressure on you just now, but Tao and Darcy and I have worked out a new schedule for the week, and we don’t need you to commit right this second. We’re going to stagger finishing the build and shooting. It’s a bit complicated to explain, but we’ll work with half the models today and half tomorrow. Elle, I’m sorry for sending folks home without discussing it with you, but we’ve kept them waiting long enough today. With this new plan, Nick can have some time to think, Darcy has time to finish the build, and I can come up with the contingency plans I should have had from the beginning so no matter what happens, we will make our deadlines.” 

Charlie spoke with calm, authoritative conviction. Elle, Nick, Tara, and Imogen breathed sighs of relief. “Charlie, you’re a godsend,” said Elle. 

“I helped?” Tao ventured. Elle repressed a smile and strode over to plant a kiss on his cheek. Her hand in Tao’s, she turned to address Nick. “You can go home and have a think about things, and let me or Charlie know if you have any questions. Whatever you decide, we’ve loved having you here today.”

Nick rose from his seat, and Tara quickly put a steadying hand under his elbow. He patted her arm to indicate he was fine before declaring, “I’d like to stay and keep helping Darcy, if that’s alright?”

Five pairs of eyebrows shot up. Imogen looked like Christmas had come early. 

“I haven’t got anything else on. And erm, if they are comfortable with it, I’d appreciate the chance to watch the models working with Tao and Tara today. It would help me understand what I’m signing up for. I don’t want to ruin your shoot.”

Imogen finally released the delighted squeal she had been holding back. “Does this mean you’re in?!?” Imogen stepped right up to Nick, looking at him intently. “Elle, I’m just noticing Nicholas’ hair,” - Nick audibly gulped-  “and I have some ideas that I’d love to test out before tomorrow-”

“You always have incredible ideas,” interjected Elle smoothly. She and Charlie moved together in unspoken agreement as they shepherded Nick, Tara, and Tao out of the booth. “I know time will be tight, but Darcy really needs the help.”

“She really does,” agreed Charlie. As the others made their escape, he hesitated, taking in Imogen’s crestfallen expression. Even her ponytail looked droopier. 

“Imogen, I’m going to send the first group your way in ten, yeah?”

“Okay.”

Charlie paused. “Immy?”

“Yeah?”

“Your hair looks fucking ace. It’s giving Ariana Grande meets Jennifer Lawrence.”

Imogen beamed. 

🍂🍃🍂🍃🍂🍃

“Yaaaasssss!” yelled Darcy at Tara, Elle, Tao, and Nick. She tumbled down the rungs of her ladder to grab Nick’s hands, jumping up and down with glee and relief. “Isaac! We get Nickaliscious for the rest of the day! We’re saved!” Darcy hugged Nick around his middle, and he chuckled and patted the top of her head. 

“I am so grateful for you. And your muscles. I have soooo many heavy things for you, Nicktacular.” She released her koala hold, grabbed Tara’s hand, and scampered past Elle, Tao, and Issac. “Back in a tick!” she called, “we’re going to need biscuits and Haribo for this bit.”

“And me?” laughed Tara as she was dragged away.

“Um YES, and you. I haven’t seen you in minutes and it’s worse than the sugar withdrawal,” Darcy wailed.

“Speaking of food,” Elle said. “Nick, why don’t you come over for dinner at ours this evening?” 

Tao’s head spun towards Elle so fast that his beanie nearly flew off. 

“Full disclosure, we live an hour away, but it would give you and me the opportunity to look through our complete selection of garments. We can put together your looks in an environment that isn’t so…” Elle paused as she spotted Imogen following Charlie out of the makeup booth and heading towards them “... chaotic.”

“That sounds great,” said Nick, “but only if you let me bring something, and if you don’t mind me stopping home to shower and change before heading over. I actually live quite close, so I wouldn’t be far behind you.”

“Perfect! Do you have any allergies?”

“And she’s not talking about latex,” Tao teased.

Nick laughed. “Nope, I eat everything. How about your household? Any food sensitivities? I’d like to bring dessert.”

Tao and Elle hesitated.

“No food allergies,” said Tao slowly, his eyes following Charlie as he was completing a circuit of the studio, clipboard and bottomless iced coffee in tow. 

“Great! Oh Jesus, Darcy shouldn’t be carrying that. Or like that. I’m just going to-” Nick jogged over to Darcy where she was staggering under the stack of wood studs in her arms, a Jammy Dodger between her teeth.

Imogen joined Elle, Tao, and Isaac as Nick was breaking off half the biscuit and popping it in his mouth.  

The four watched Nick bend down to scoop the beams out of Darcy’s hands like they were matchsticks. 

“That boy is a snack,” said Imogen. 

“Honey, that boy is a five course meal,” said Tao. 

“And all five courses are dessert,” said Isaac. 

“Right? He’s such a cinnamon roll,” said Elle. 

Isaac nodded at Elle in agreement, then gave his head a subtle tilt to the left. 

The group watched Charlie thirstily suck the last of his coffee down. As Nick walked past him with an armful of lumber and a flaming face, Charlie distractedly held his ice-filled cup against his own flushed cheekbones. 

Once Nick was out of sight, Charlie scowled at himself, spun on his heel, and walked away angrily fanning himself with his clipboard. 

Dinner was going to be delicious. 

Chapter Text

Nick was having a ball. 

Literally. Give or take 50,000 balls. 

Darcy’s design for the second set was a holographic fever dream. The rendering laid out on their makeshift workbench showed a giant ball pit enclosed by a curved wall of refractive plexiglass panels. The pit itself had been constructed earlier that morning, and the next task was to fill it with translucent holographic globes ranging from the size of grapefruits to gargantuan yoga balls.  

“You’ve made short work of the heavy lifting,” Darcy had said appreciatively to Nick earlier that afternoon. He had spent an hour helping her and Isaac stage the building materials and equipment needed to complete the third and largest of the sets. When complete, the final design would run the length of the entire back wall of Studio 8. Charlie had pulled nine crew members off of other tasks (“gawking and gossiping,” if you were to ask Charlie) and assigned them to help with the ambitious undertaking. 

“You’ve earned a break from sweat and splinters.” Darcy had plucked a licorice twist from behind her ear and used it to gesture at the second setup. “Why don’t you and Isaac work on the ball pit?”

Nick had secretly been enjoying the physical exertion of the past hour (and picking heavy things up and putting them down was something he knew he couldn’t muck up too badly), but he was not going to refuse an easier task for a bit. He and Isaac agreed, though Isaac seemed less enthused. 

The largest balls were easy to manage. They were hollow moulded plastic that simply needed to be unboxed. 

However, Nick quickly discovered that the majority of the balls were inflatables. 

While Isaac was tinkering with a bubble machine that was ( conveniently , Nick couldn’t help but think) in need of maintenance, Nick was losing all feeling in his face. He had been sitting in the pit inflating balls for about fifteen minutes when he heard a soft clank . 

He looked up to see Charlie Spring depositing a bicycle pump on the edge of the pit. “You’re my hero,” Nick sputtered through numb lips. “I absolutely can not blow any more balls.” Nick gratefully stretched to grab the pump, his vest riding up as he reached out an arm. 

“No problem,” Charlie croaked as Nick placed the pump in between his crossed legs, connecting the hose to the plastic valve of one of the balls. Nick gave a relieved groan as he pumped the handle and watched the ball inflate within seconds. “Oh my god, pumping is going to be so much better , thank you Char-” He looked up with a smile, but Charlie was already walking away. 

Practically running, actually. 

Nick sighed, wondering if Charlie would ever get a break from saving the day long enough for an actual conversation. 

As Nick inflated the balls and listened to Isaac giggling to himself behind the bubble machine, Nick tried to reconcile Park Charlie with Studio Charlie. Why was everyone but Elle,Tao, and Isaac alternatively off-put and petrified by this kind, thoughtful, competent man? 

Yes, Charlie came off as quite severe inside the chaotic confines of Studio 8, but Nick knew from his own experience leading a team that it was sometimes necessary to tow a hard line. Darcy was wrong , Nick thought. Charlie wasn’t on a power trip, he was just doing his job. And from everything Nick had observed, doing it well. 

And looking really, really good while doing it. 

Nick was roused from his reverie by the chatter of a large group approaching. He paused his work along with the rest of the crew to take in the stunning parade being led around the corner to the first set by Tao, Elle, Imogen, and Tara. Although there were fabrics, motifs, and silhouettes that visually united the fifteen outfits, Nick was struck by how uniquely each and every one of the models was attired.

When faced with an occasion that required dressing up in something other than his rugby uniform or athletic-wear, Nick had never seen it as an opportunity to be expressive with his clothes- quite the opposite, in fact. For press conferences following matches, the men on his team all used the same three tailors to fit them into suits purchased at the same four stores. Other than the occasional flashy watch or set of cufflinks, the lads all dressed more or less identically. When Nick had made the mistake of wearing a lavender pocket scarf and matching socks for a formal team dinner (presents from his mum, who had thought the colour suited him), most of the lads had roasted him.  

Nick and Sai had discussed it afterwards, privately theorising that years of rugby kits had unconsciously conditioned their teammates to react negatively to anyone wearing distinctive clothing. After all, if you had a different kit on, you were obviously on an opposing team. 

Watching the models walk by in their gloriously idiosyncratic outfits as a tribe of individuals , Nick found himself wondering if he still had those socks somewhere. 

“Gorgeous lot, right?” Darcy said around her lollipop as she climbed into the ball pit and sat next to Nick. She did not know everyone who had been cast for the campaign, but there were a few models she knew well. The petite, curvaceous woman in the hijab was Sahar. Behind her was a charismatic man named Daniel, “a proper nerd like Charlie, but a nice nerd”. Then there was Felix, who Darcy and Elle knew from uni.

Darcy was describing the customizations she and Elle had made to Felix’s wheelchair for the shoot when Isaac approached, hand extended for a lolly. While she was searching through her pockets for a green apple flavoured one, a man with (there was no other word for it) perfect hair and blindingly white teeth walked by, talking animatedly to a stony-faced Tao.

“That’s Ben,” said Darcy, handing Isaac his lollipop. “He’s supposedly one of the few people here with actual modelling experience.” 

“He’s a dick,” said Isaac. Nick was stunned when Isaac angrily bit into his lolly in a gesture that reminded him disturbingly of Darcy. 

Yikes, thought Nick. This Ben bloke must really be a piece of work. 

 🍂🍃🍂🍃🍂🍃

Thank fuck for Excel.

Charlie had been left with no choice but to hide in his makeshift office for the past half hour and soothe himself with spreadsheets. It was the only way to get the sight and sound of Nick Nelson pumping his arm and moaning about balls to stop playing on a continuous loop in his head.

When his smartwatch alerted him that it was time to eat, Charlie realised with a start that he was not the only person who needed sustenance. The models had gotten a meal break, but the crew had likely been going nonstop. 

Grabbing an iPad and a handful of menus, he loped around the studio collecting orders for a group delivery. Charlie was so surprised and delighted by the progress being made on the enormous third set that he found himself encouraging the crew to order dessert treats for themselves along with their meals. 

Charlie’s good mood was further boosted by seeing Sahar’s smile as she worked with Tara on her movement through the drapery. Elle and Imogen were conferring intensely nearby, and Tao was laser-focused on adjusting his camera settings. Charlie decided to circle back and get his friends’ orders last to avoid interrupting them, and turned to walk past the rest of the models clustered a short distance away. 

“You all look fantastic,” Charlie said in greeting, and Felix let out an exuberant, “Don’t we just??” that had the whole group laughing. After a quick hello to Daniel, Charlie was heading towards the ball pit when Ben stepped in front of him with a smug grin. 

“Hello Charles.” 

“No.” 

Charlie stepped around Ben and focused his attention on his iPad, wondering if it would be faster to send two crew members to pick up lunch rather than have the restaurant deliver. 

Then a hand grabbed his upper arm. Hard. 

Charlie felt his body turn to ice. 

“I’m just trying to talk to you.”

“Careful,” Charlie said quietly, not looking up from his screen. “You might want to stop touching me. People could get the wrong idea. Wouldn’t want that.”

Ben released his arm like he’d been given an electric shock. 

Charlie retained his icy composure as he walked away, steady and deliberate as a glacier. He did not look back, keeping his eyes on his iPad as he approached the ball pit. His stride was broken by the appearance of Isaac’s Nikes. Charlie looked up at his friend, and felt himself thaw slightly. 

“Alright?” whispered Isaac as he took the menus from Charlie. 

“Yes.” 

“If that wanker gives you any trouble,” Isaac said mildly, “I will end him and no one will ever find the body.”

“See, when Tao says things like that, it’s funny. When you say it, it’s fucking terrifying. Have you been getting lessons from Tori?”

Isaac did not fall for Charlie’s attempt to deflect. “I still wish you’d tell the others about your history with Ben. If Elle knew-”

“We’ve been over this.” Charlie put a hand on Isaac’s shoulder and steered him back towards the pit. “It was years ago, ancient history. We were practically children. I’ve made it clear to Ben that I want to interact with him as little as possible.”

“But what about what Ben wants?”

“I could not give less of a shit about what Ben wants.” Charlie and Isaac had reached the edge of the now rather full ball pit. Charlie raised his voice to call out, “I’m taking lunch orders. Isaac has menus, or you can scan the QR code and look it up on your phone. Once you know what you’d like, I’ll add it to our group order.”

A pastel head popped into view above the iridescent sea of bubbles. “Have they got milkshakes???”

Charlie sighed. “Darcy, don’t you think you should eat-” 

An auburn head emerged on the other end of the pit, and Nick and Charlie spoke in perfect unison, “- some real food?”

Darcy let out a horrified squawk. 

“Oh no WAY, Nicky is bad enough with his constant mum-ing me to death, I am not putting up with it from you too, Charlie Spring!” Darcy got to her feet with a huff as Nick waded towards where Isaac was holding the menus. “I am an adult and can make my own decisions.”

“Well then decide on which of the smoothies- they don’t do milkshakes- you would like, and then decide on something that has a vegetable in it,” said Charlie. 

“What are you ordering?”

Charlie looked up and met warm amber eyes. “I’m not. I’ve got lunches for the week in the office fridge.”

“Oh.” Nick looked back down at his menu, sheepishly kicking at the balls by his feet. 

Come on, Charlie! He might be the fittest man you have ever seen, but surely you can manage a conversation. 

“Tao says the pork buns are almost as good as his mum’s. I’ve never eaten at this restaurant myself, but I have had Yan’s pork buns. If this place makes them even half as well, they’ll be delicious.”   

“Well then, I’ll have the pork buns.” Nick smiled as he spared a glance towards where Darcy was hanging by her knees over a set wall support, construction drawings held aloft in front of her. “And an order of the shiitake ones for the Mighty Menace. And a small mango smoothie I can use as incentive for her to eat the actual meal.” 

Charlie chuckled. “Good idea.” He entered Nick’s order before calling out to Isaac. “Pho?”

Isaac called back from where he was surveying plans next to Darcy (though he had elected to remain upright for the activity). “Obviously!”

“If Isaac had his way, every meal would be soup,” Charlie confided to Nick as he selected a chicken pho from the dropdown. 

“Hmmm.” Nick furrowed his brow in thought. “I think for me, if I had to pick one thing, it would be mash.”

Charlie heard himself giggle and was furious about it. “Potatoes till the end of time?”

“No, mashed potatoes. With obscene amounts of butter. What about you?”

Charlie was saved from having to contemplate food- his least favourite thing to contemplate- by a sugar-crazed Darcy bounding across the pit and sending balls flying into the air. 

“Nicky, the other team just radioed me. I am leaving you and Isaac in charge of finishing up the walls here while I get them sorted. Isaac has the plans, he knows what to do.” She was speaking so fast that neither Nick or Charlie had time to react before she was bouncing away. 

Isaac approached, holding a large stack of build plans. 

“Contrary to what Darcy believes, I do not in fact know what to do,” he sighed, indicating the sheets in his hands. “Nick, now might be a good time for you to watch the shoot while I make sense of these.” Isaac gave Charlie a pointed look.

Subtle, Isaac.

“I’ve also got to pop over there to get the last of the lunch orders,” Charlie said brusquely, giving a quick nod of his head to suggest that Nick accompany him. 

“Awesome!” Nick hopped over the pit edge to stand next to Charlie with far more enthusiasm than was strictly called for. 

Yes, Marvel superhero, thought Charlie dazedly. But also, golden retriever . 

 🍂🍃🍂🍃🍂🍃

When he and Charlie had arrived at the photoshoot, Nick had not been able to make sense of everything that was happening all at once. Elle and Imogen were dashing back and forth adjusting clothing, hair, and makeup. Tara was gliding through the fluttering drapes alongside Daniel, encouraging him to experiment with his movements. Nearby, four crew members were adjusting lights and fans with occasional instructions hollered by Tao, who was otherwise utterly focused on the views through his camera lenses. 

When Nick and Charlie approached, Nick realised that Tao was narrating everything happening around them out loud to himself. 

“Right, once we get the white balance right, I’ll do test shots while Tara sets everyone’s movements, and then once we review those JESSICA TURN THE FAN DOWN WE’RE NOT TRYING TO GET TO OZ TODAY PLEASE AND THANK YOU Elle and Imogen can touch up looks while we reset TAEKWON I THINK THE LAMP HAS BLOWN ON THAT UNIT CAN YOU SWAP IT OUT PLEASE AND THANK YOU-”

Nick and Charlie remained still for a few moments listening to Tao’s relentless (but illuminating, Nick thought) running commentary. Nick caught a flash of dimples as Charlie smiled at his odd friend. When Tao finally paused to take a breath, Charlie stepped forward and placed a menu directly in front of his face. 

“Lunch order,” Charlie said simply.

Tao surveyed the menu with a scowl. 

“I continue to be offended by this establishment. You can’t call yourself an “authentic purveyor of Chinese cuisine” with dishes like ‘Bangers and Bao’.”

“But the pork buns are good,” Charlie reminded him. 

“But the pork buns are good,” Tao admitted.  

Nick was half-listening as he turned his attention to Tara. He had seen his best friend work with her wee jazz and ballet students, so he knew what an excellent teacher she was with children. She was bringing that same warmth and care to her work with these adults, but Nick could see how much more joy she was finding in collaborating with the models, rather than simply teaching sequences of movements. 

He was so caught up watching her that he didn’t notice Tao stride away with his camera and Charlie step quietly up to his side. 

Charlie gestured to the flowers Daniel was gathering in his hands, Elle gently helping to arrange them in his grip. “When Elle was casting, she asked everyone the same question, ‘When do you feel most yourself?’” He turned his gaze towards where Tara was now working with Sahar, who had a saxophone in her hands. “Daniel loves gardening, and Sahar is a musician. She actually plays lots of instruments, but sax is her favourite. Every prop you see has been chosen by the model.” 

Nick saw Charlie’s face close off as he caught sight of Ben arguing with Tao. Nick had seen Charlie’s brief exchange with Ben earlier, and although he hadn’t been able to hear their conversation, it had left him uneasy. 

“What’s his prop then?” Nick ventured. 

Charlie huffed, “Well, he initially proposed piles of banknotes. Tossing them in the air, fanning himself with them and the like.”

Nick blinked. “You’re having me on.”

“Nope. He’s a fulltime influencer with endorsement deals from five or six luxury brands. His social media persona is all about flashing money around- literally and figuratively. Luckily Elle was able to talk him out of it. Turns out he also fancies himself quite the writer.” Charlie nodded at the leather-bound notebook and fountain pen in Ben’s hands. 

Nick and Charlie watched Tao explain through clenched teeth that the glasses Ben had independently decided to wear would glare under the lights. Imogen rushed over with a box of frames, and Tao tapped his foot impatiently as Ben tried on each pair, gazing critically in the mirror Imogen was holding up for him. 

Charlie sighed. “Honestly, Ben is a knob. But a good-looking one, with an established mainstream following that we might not otherwise reach. When he responded to Elle’s casting call, it seemed like a smart move.”

Nick determinedly ignored his feelings about Charlie finding Ben ‘good-looking’. “So I’ll have to come up with a prop for tomorrow?”

Charlie cocked his head adorably as he turned to face Nick. “I assumed you’d probably want to go with a rugby ball. Elle mentioned that you’re a rather accoladed professional player.”

Nick hesitated, then looked away as he said, “I don’t actually play for the Badgers anymore. I’m retired.”

Charlie’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Oh. I’m… sorry? Or, erm, should I say congratulations?” 

Nick shoved his hands in his pockets and stared down at his Vans. “Rugby is pretty tough on a body, most players retire by 32.” 

Nick could feel Charlie’s eyes on him, probably clocking that he was still quite a few years shy of the average retirement age, when Imogen joined them.

“Tao says you’re taking lunch orders? Thanks so much Charlie, you’re a star.”

Charlie handed Imogen the iPad so she could peruse the menu, and he looked back up to follow Nick’s gaze.

Tara was off to the side anxiously chewing on one of her braids as Tao struggled mightily to coax some variety out of Ben.

“Lovely, Benjamin,” Tao gritted out. “But let’s try something else.”

Ben nodded and turned his face from the camera, fountain pen and notebook in hand. He spun his head around and peered over the top of his (thankfully now lens-less) glasses. A swoop of shiny hair fell roguishly over his forehead as he smouldered at the camera.

They watched Ben do the same pose again. 

And again.

“What in the Zoolander…” Charlie muttered. 

Nick caught Charlie’s eye, and he could not stop a snort escaping.

“Don’t,” started Charlie, but it was too late. The two broke out into uncontrollable giggles. 

“Ben, focus!” Tao roared. 

Charlie and Nick pressed their lips together, both slightly pink in the face as they exchanged abashed glances. “I should go get the last couple of orders,” Charlie said once he had control of himself. He took the iPad back from Imogen and headed over to where Elle was whispering reassuringly in Tara’s ear. 

“Nicholas, I owe you an apology.”

Nick turned in surprise from absolutely not watching Charlie walk away to see Imogen looking contritely up at him. 

“I realise I made you uncomfortable earlier. I am not always great at reading the room when I get excited. I get ahead of myself. It’s something I’m working on.”

Nick was stunned. 

His first instinct was to say something like ‘ You didn’t make me uncomfortable’ , or ‘ You have nothing to apologise for’ , but as he took in Imogen’s earnest expression he found himself saying, “Thank you. For what it’s worth, I understand. I’ve been told I can be a bit much myself.”

Imogen’s brow creased in a mixture of relief and confusion. “Really? You honestly seem sort of quiet.” 

Nick shrugged. 

Imogen looked away briefly in thought before returning to meet Nick’s eyes. “This whole day has probably been overwhelming, and you don’t know any of us, but I promise that you don’t have to be nervous or self-conscious.” She smiled reassuringly as she continued. 

“The fashion and beauty industries are chock full of people who are so sodding judgmental, but Elle has done a beautiful job creating a safe space for everyone to just be themselves.” Her smile turned into a chuckle. “So don’t you worry about being ‘too much’, Nicholas. We’re all a bit mad here.” 

Imogen waited quietly for a few moments as Nick processed. Eventually he said, “‘Nicholas’ makes me feel like I’m in trouble with my mum. My friends call me Nick.”

“My friends call me Immy,” Imogen replied eagerly. 

“Thank you, Immy. I really appreciate what you’ve said.” Nick looked up at where Ben was scowling at Elle and Tao, loudly insisting that it was the glasses that were throwing him off his game. 

“Speaking of madness- duty calls. See you later, Nick!”

Nick spent a few more minutes watching the shoot, a small smile on his face. He would likely still make an arse of himself tomorrow, but if nothing else, perhaps he might come out of this adventure with a new friend or two.

 🍂🍃🍂🍃🍂🍃

Charlie was fine. Absolutely fine. 

He had retreated to the pipe-and-drape confines of his makeshift office and curled up as best he could in the rolling office chair, knees to his chest as he doggedly shoved pasta salad into his mouth. He had been forced to sacrifice his hair for the sake of the noise-cancelling headphones he had borrowed from Isaac. He needed some time with his “Snap Out of It” playlist. 

Charlie had seen Imogen and Nick talking intensely while he had been taking the last of the lunch orders. The conversation had involved a lot of meaningful looks, and whatever Nick had said at the end of their exchange had made Imogen incredibly happy. She had practically skipped away. 

Nick’s smile as he had watched her go had been so soft.

There was no reason to be upset , Charlie chided himself. Imogen had fancied Nick from the moment she had laid eyes on him. It made sense that the two of them would get along- Imogen and Nick both seemed to be sincere, heart-on-your-sleeve sorts. They even looked good together. A pair of sweet, earnest golden retrievers.

Charlie was nothing if not a prickly hedgehog. 

Frustrated with his irrational sadness over a boy he had met mere hours ago , Charlie turned up the Foo Fighters and chomped on the rest of his lunch with furious determination. 

He was not upset about Nick. Not really. The urge to weep into his farfalle was likely due to the compounded stress of the past few weeks, an especially difficult weekend, and Ben being a douchenozzle. 

He would finish his lunch, chug a bottle of water, find himself another coffee, and he would be fine.

Absolutely FINE.

🍂🍃🍂🍃🍂🍃

Four crew members had made short work of distributing everyone’s lunch orders. Nick had been working with Isaac to secure the tops of the plexiglass wall panels to the grid for extra stability, and Nick elected to eat his pork buns (which were indeed very good) up where he was in the lift. He was enjoying being above the fray for a little bit, literally and figuratively.

Nick contemplated the following day’s shoot as he chewed. Sahar had her saxophone. Daniel had his flowers. What could his thing be? He had been honest when he had said that he did not want to toss a rugby ball around. He still loved the game, but it could not be his whole identity anymore. 

But who was he without rugby? 

He’d been avoiding the question for months. 

He liked Marvel movies. Formula One. The beach. Dogs. He really liked dogs. Maybe he could bring Henry? Would he even be allowed in the studio? 

He wondered if Charlie liked dogs. Or perhaps he was more of a cat person?

Nick’s phone buzzed.

Sai: Hey mate, heading to London later tonight- been visiting my parents in Kent for a few days. Plan on spending the rest of bye week in jimmies on the sofa. Come over and help me eat the 500000 samosas mum insisted I take home with me?

Sai was Nick’s closest friend from his time playing for the Badgers. Christian and Otis were also good eggs, but Nick had a particular fondness for Sai.

Although Nick had never confided to Sai about his bisexuality, the two had bonded over their mutual frustration with the racist and homophobic language that pervaded the sport. Both Sai and Nick had refused to engage in the toxic banter that was all too common in the locker room and on the pitch, and they had been gratified when the younger players had slowly started to follow their example. 

Nick: Hi Sai, it’s been ages! Sofa samosas sound brilliant, but I’m not sure when I’ll be free… 

Nick held his phone above his head where he sat cross-legged in the lift, angling the camera for a selfie with the ball pit and expanse of Studio 8 visible in the background. He gave an exaggerated grimace as he snapped the photo. 

Sai: Wtf ahaha! 5 quid says this is somehow Darcy’s doing. What is happening??

After months of nothing interesting to share about his life, Nick was admittedly rather excited to tell Sai all about the past few hours, and about the madness to come. After some texts back and forth, they planned for Sai to give Nick a lift home from Elle and Tao’s.  

It was Sai who had helped Nick find his current flat when he had moved to London; he had seen the couple two floors below him moving out, and had quickly put Nick in touch with the landlord. Although Sai was in Leeds more often than he was in London, Nick found it comforting to know his friend would be so close, even if only part-time.  

Nick was texting Sai that he would send along Elle’s address later when he noticed Isaac returning to set with two large iced coffees. Charlie had just turned the corner, clipboard in hand for yet another loop around the studio to check in with each team. When Charlie looked up and saw Isaac heading towards him with one cup held triumphantly aloft, the expression on Charlie’s face made Nick grateful he was sitting down. 

He’s so cute when he’s excited , Nick thought. 

Nick knew Charlie would be pleased about the coffee, but he was stunned when Charlie threw his arms around Isaac. Nick held his breath for the several long seconds the embrace lasted. And then all of the air left him like he had been punched. 

Charlie kissed Isaac on the cheek. Then he stepped back smiling, happily clutching his coffee.  

Nick looked down at his carton of pork buns. He suddenly was not hungry anymore.

Of course Charlie wasn’t single. And of course he was with someone like Isaac. Someone smart and calm and competent and definitely not a bisexual disaster.  

Nick lay back on the lift platform floor and looked up at the gridded ceiling, hoping the position would keep him out of sight for the time being. 

He was fine. Absolutely fine.

He just... needed a minute. 

Chapter Text

Charlie threw his arms around Isaac and whispered, “Don’t think this coffee is going to distract me from your meddling, Henderson. I know what you’re up to.”

“And what am I up to?” Isaac was the picture of innocence.

“Playing Cupid with me and Nick Nelson. It’s not happening.”

“But I want to believe in romance!”

“I don’t need romance, I’ve got you,” Charlie replied, giving Isaac a playful kiss on the cheek. 

“Yes yes, I’m yours forever, but that doesn’t mean you - “

“Thank you so so so much for the coffee, your timing is magical as always. I was gasping for one.”

Isaac took Charlie’s hint. A conversation about romancing Nick Nelson was not happening. 

For now , Isaac thought to himself. 

Charlie took an ecstatic sip through his straw. “I am going to debrief with Darcy and then send her over to check in with you here. The models are released in thirty, and the crew has got an hour left before end-of-day, including cleanup.” 

Charlie took in the mostly complete second set (wondering where Nick had gotten to despite himself) and placed a grateful hand on Isaac’s shoulder. “We’ve made enormous progress, thank you for stepping up today so that Darcy could focus.”

“I’ve enjoyed today! Working with Nick has been lovely.”

Charlie coughed. “Well wherever he is, please make sure he fills out a timesheet and leaves it in the box by the loading door?”

Isaac nodded, and Charlie took off towards the back of Studio 8, the caffeine already lending a pep to his step.

With a fond shake of his head, Isaac turned to look up at the lift where he could just make out the tips of Nick’s shoes and a few tufts of ginger hair. Had Nick nodded off? Isaac was loath to wake him, but they needed to hustle if they wanted to be wrapped up within the next hour. 

🍂🍃🍂🍃🍂🍃

Nick was tired, sweaty, achey, and sad about a certain curly-haired producer… but in some ways he also felt better than he had in months. He had genuinely enjoyed helping his friends, and had found the physicality of the day’s work both soothing and satisfying despite his body’s protests. 

As the majority of the crew left, Nick hung back to check in with Tara. He had barely seen her at all since they had arrived at the studio. He found her chatting with Imogen while Darcy sat propped on a stool next to her, staring moonfully up at Tara and swaying slightly. 

“Sugar crash?” Nick stood behind the stool, poised and ready to catch Darcy should she succumb to gravity. 

“Obviously,” said Tara, raising an eyebrow at her punch-drunk girlfriend. “After this one gets some sleep, we are going to be having a very serious conversation.”

“Noooooooo.” Darcy leaned sideways to rest her head on Tara’s hip, looking up at her with her best puppy-dog eyes. “No convos, only cuddles.”

Imogen and Nick held back their laughter at Tara’s exasperated scowl as she bent to kiss the top of Darcy’s head. “Menace.”

“Come on you lot,” said Imogen, shouldering her handbag. “I drove today and can give you a lift home. That one will collapse on the platform if you try to take the Tube.”

Nick walked out with the three women (or rather, walked out with two women and practically carried the third) to the car park. They deposited Darcy in the front passenger seat of the bright pink Kia, and Imogen was about to start clearing out more space in the back for both Nick and Tara when Nick stopped her. 

“Don’t worry about me, Immy. l’d been planning to walk since I  live so close, and walking will be faster than driving at this hour.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”  Nick bent to give his new friend a hug goodbye, then turned to do the same for Tara. As they embraced, Tara whispered teasingly in his ear. 

“Immy, is it now?”

Nick poked her gently in her ticklish sides. “I am allowed to make other friends.”

“Mhmmmmmm.”

Darcy whined inside the car. “Tara, I missssss yoooooou.”

“Be right there, love.”

Nick waved goodbye as the little pink car zipped away, laughing at what looked like Darcy trying to crawl over the console to join Tara in the backseat. Noticing the chill in the air, he tugged on the long-sleeved top he had flung over a shoulder and quickly drew it over his head. He was still a bit cold, but reasoned that the walk would soon warm him up. 

Nick was halfway home when he realised that he had never actually gotten Elle and Tao’s address. He went to pull his phone out to text Tara for help, but it was not in his hip pocket.

Or his other hip pocket.

Or his back pocket. 

It was almost definitely still sitting in the lift. 

Nick sighed and headed back to the studio.

🍂🍃🍂🍃🍂🍃

Charlie was in his happy place. Everyone had left, and the studio was quiet save for the sound of Interpol playing through his phone speaker. The overhead work lights had been turned off, and Charlie was reconciling paperwork by the light of his laptop and the cosy glow of a desk lamp- though to call the folding card table he was working at a “desk” might have been a stretch. 

He had promised Elle he would not stay too late. While he truly needed to catch up on the administrative end of the campaign, he also desperately needed to regain a semblance of control. Deep down, he knew that control was an illusion, but updating his master calendar and tasks lists and spreadsheets had a calming effect on him that was very real. 

His stupid feelings about a stupid boy were… stupid. The most important thing right now was to ensure that the rest of Elle’s campaign went perfectly . He needed to focus. No more distractions. 

Charlie was so engrossed in his work that he did not hear the click of designer brogues approaching. 

“Hello Charles,” said Ben.

Charlie spun his chair around to see Ben attempt to lean nonchalantly at the entrance to the office, only just catching himself from falling when the fabric partition failed to hold his weight. 

Charlie snorted. “What do you want?”

“I wanted to talk.”

“About the shoot?”

“About us.”

“There is no us . We dated for like five minutes 1000 years ago, if you want to categorise that absolute farce of a relationship as ‘dating’.”

A shadow crossed Ben’s face, but he quickly recovered to plaster back on what he probably imagined was a seductive smile. 

“We were both young and stupid, but I’ve never forgotten you, Charles.” He placed a hand on his chest in a parody of sincerity. “I’ve thought about you so much over the years. I know you’ve thought about me too.”

“You can fuck, and I can not express this enough, all the way off .” Charlie closed his laptop and stood, pocketing his phone. He could come in early tomorrow and finish the paperwork. 

He needed to shut this down and get away from this creep right the hell now. 

“I’m about to lock up. You need to leave,” Charlie said firmly. 

Ben’s smile fell as he dropped his hand. “Don’t be like that,” he said, stepping forward into the office. 

Somewhere in Charlie’s brain, alarm bells started ringing. Before Ben could react, Charlie darted past him and out onto the studio floor. He marched down the shadowy aisle created by the rows of dressing partitions and road cases, speeding up as heard Ben follow close behind.

“I’m not letting you walk away from me again,” Ben called. 

When Charlie had become involved with Ben at 18, he came to learn that Ben was often mean. He was frequently angry. He was sometimes threatening. 

That he was still all of these things was no surprise. 

But there was something new in Ben’s voice. 

And it was scaring Charlie.

🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨

Nick had been worried that the studio would be locked for the night, and sighed in relief when the door opened easily for him. The space was dark, but there was enough illumination from the wall sconces along the perimeter of the studio for him to make his way to the lift. 

He found his phone sitting exactly where he had thought it would be. He picked it up and turned to head back out, tapping at the screen to message Tara. 

“Don’t be like that.”

Nick snapped his head up, surprised that anyone else was in the darkened studio.

“I’m not letting you walk away from me again.”

Ben?

“You are not letting me do anything. You have no say in my life. You are not part of my life in any way. And that is how it is going to stay.”

Charlie?

Nick stood frozen behind a rack of clothing, startled and concerned. Charlie and Ben?

“Still a drama queen, I see. Fuck, will you just slow down a minute and let me explain?”

“Either you leave now or I am locking you in here for the night, your call.”

Nick could hear Charlie’s rapid footsteps getting closer as he headed for the loading doors, Ben’s right behind. 

“I asked you to STOP.” Nick heard the sound of feet scuffling. 

“Let go of me, Ben. Right now.”

“I know that’s not what you want.”

“What is wrong with you? L-let me go.”

“You can play coy all you want, but you’re the one who booked me for this shoot.”

“You slid into Elle’s DMs and practically begged to be part of it, you lunatic.”

“Because I missed you, Charles. Charlie.” Ben crooned. 

“You…”

“The only reason I am here hawking Elle’s hideous clothes with all of those freaks is because I wanted to see you. You’re the one that got away. I want you back, baby.”

“What the… that is so… y-you actually are crazy.” 

Nick put his phone in his pocket and started moving.

“It’s your fault. I’m crazy about you.”

“Get away from me. I said GET OFF-”

Nick bolted around the garment rack. 

Ben had thrown his whole body at Charlie to press him against a road case, his chest and hips holding Charlie in place as he grabbed both of his wrists and held them down. Charlie tried to twist his torso away from Ben and get some distance, but Ben was pushing so tightly against him that there was no room to manoeuvre. Ben smiled triumphantly as Charlie struggled. 

It took less than a second for Nick to cross the floor.

Nick wrapped a powerful arm around Ben’s throat to swing him bodily around and away from Charlie. Ben flailed and brought his hands up to clutch ineffectually where Nick’s solid bicep was pressed to his windpipe.

Nick momentarily considered squeezing tighter, but his desire to choke Ben out was nothing in comparison to his concern for Charlie. He released his hold on Ben’s neck and threw him towards the loading door. Ben landed in a gasping sprawl on the floor. 

“Get. Out.” 

Ben took one look back at Nick’s face and ran for the door. 

🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨

Nick turned around to see Charlie on the floor, curled up with his back to the road case and his arms clutching his knees to his chest. All of the adrenaline left Nick’s body as he slowly kneeled in front Charlie, being careful not to crowd him.

“Charlie, are you alright?”

Charlie couldn’t speak. 

“He’s gone. You’re safe,” Nick promised. 

Charlie was breathing too fast, close to hyperventilating.

“I need you to breathe with me. Can you do that? In for five, out for five. Here we go. One…”

It took a few tries, but Charlie’s breathing began to slow, eventually matching the rise and fall of Nick’s chest and his quiet, steady counts. Nick was not sure how long they had sat there before Charlie let out a long exhale and lowered his forehead onto his knees.

“I’m sorry,” Charlie said wetly. 

Nick desperately wanted to reach out and touch him. “What on earth are you sorry for?”

“I… I just…” Charlie kept his head down as he wiped his eyes. When he finally looked up, blue eyes held amber for several moments. The longer Nick held Charlie’s gaze, the calmer Charlie seemed. 

“What are you doing here, Nick?” Charlie eventually whispered. 

“I came back for my phone. Left it in the lift.”

“Ah.” Charlie paused. “Lucky timing. If you hadn’t come back…” He looked away, worrying his lip. 

Neither man wanted to finish that sentence.

“Thank you, Nick.”

Nick shook his head- it seemed absurd that Charlie would be thanking him. He got to his feet and held out a hand. “Can you stand?”

A spark flared in Charlie’s eyes as he looked up at Nick. He attempted a cheeky grin. “I might be a damsel in distress, but I draw the line at actual swooning.” 

Charlie placed his hand in Nick’s, and gulped when it was swallowed up by the larger man’s warm grip. 

Nick gently pulled Charlie to his feet. For all his bravado, his knees almost gave way. As he started to collapse, Nick stepped closer to place his hands under each of Charlie’s elbows to support him. Nick looked down at the top of Charlie’s head. He couldn’t see his face, but he could see the flush that had crept up to Charlie’s ears. 

“This is so embarrassing.” 

Nick rushed to reassure him. “You have nothing to be embarrassed or sorry about. What happened just now was fucking scary.”  

Nick stayed very still as Charlie exhaled shakily and swayed forward. His forehead came to rest lightly against Nick’s shoulder.

“It was,” Charlie admitted quietly into Nick’s chest.

“But you’re safe now, and I’ve got your back. When you’re ready, I’ll go with you to report Ben. Having a witness to corroborate what happened should help,” Nick said softly. 

Nick was alarmed when Charlie jerked his head up and stumbled back, reaching a hand out to steady himself on the road case behind him. He shook his head wildly, blue eyes pleading. 

“I don’t want to report this. I don’t want anyone to know this happened.”

Nick saw how upset Charlie was, but he pressed on. “I know the idea of going to the police might feel overwhelming. We don’t have to go right now. But Charlie, Ben assaulted you. If I hadn’t been here-”

“I know, Nick. Believe me, I know . But it’s over, and thanks to you Ben knows better than to try anything again. I just want to forget this happened.” Charlie cautiously took his hand off the road case, pulling himself to his full height as best he could while his knees were still shaking. “Nick, please don’t tell anyone.”

Nick was upset and confused. He wanted to break Ben into pieces. How could Charlie be okay with Ben getting away with what he did? Charlie was watching Nick’s face carefully, and quickly went on.

“I just don’t want to cause any drama in the middle of this campaign. It means everything to Elle. I knew Ben was trouble, I just didn’t realise how much… but in a few days it will be done, and I’ll never have to see him again.”

Nick struggled to process what Charlie was saying. “Wait, we’re letting him come back? Here? Tomorrow ?”

“Yes.” Charlie’s voice was firm, but Nick could see that he was still shaking. 

“Charlie…” 

“ Please , Nick.” Charlie’s voice cracked, and Nick couldn’t bear it.  

“Alright, I promise. I won’t share what happened with anyone until you tell me otherwi-.”

Nick froze.

Charlie was hugging him, lithe arms wrapped around his middle and curls tucked under his chin. Nick had barely registered that it was happening before Charlie released him and stepped back. 

“Thank you, Nick.” Charlie said earnestly as he stared up into Nick’s wide eyes. Nick watched the slighter man take a deep breath and square his shoulders. “Come on, let’s get out of here.” 

The pair silently made their way down the corridors and out of the building. Nick had been biting his tongue the whole way, deeply worried about Charlie but gratified to see his steps become less wobbly as they walked. Nick finally spoke up when they stepped out onto the pavement.

“Would you like company on your way home?” Dinner with Elle and Tao could wait , Nick thought. He needed to know that Charlie was alright.

Charlie looked up at him in surprise, and then gave a small, soft smile. “Nick Nelson, Marvel superhero,” he said so quietly Nick thought he misheard him. 

“Pardon?”

“Nothing. I promise I’m fine Nick, truly. I just need some space to process. The ride home will help.”

“Well then at least let me walk with you to the station,” Nick insisted. 

Charlie looked like he wanted to protest, but he eventually nodded. 

When they reached the stairs to the Underground, Charlie turned to look back up at Nick. Nick stared back, unable to look away and unwilling to say goodbye.

Why was it, Nick thought, that being near Charlie had set his heart racing all day, but looking into those impossible eyes made him feel a peace he couldn’t explain?

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Charlie finally said, still lost in Nick’s gaze.

“Tomorrow,” Nick promised. 

A beat.

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

Charlie turned, walked down the steps, and out of sight.

The calm left Nick’s body in a rush. He was overcome with the horrible feeling of having forgotten something important. 

He shook his head, and turned to head home. If he was quick about a shower, he could still make it to Elle’s on time. 

🍂🍃🍂🍃🍂🍃

After taking down a container of macarons from the freezer in the hope that they would defrost by the time dinner was over, Nick shot a message to his group chat with Tara and Darcy, and threw himself into the shower. 

He let out a groan as the scalding water poured over his sore muscles. It was only just occurring to him that Darcy had very intentionally assigned him to ball duty for most of the day. Now that he was paying attention, he realised just how hard he had pushed his body over the past several hours. 

Nick decided to forgo shaving his stubble, but made the responsible call and pulled a compression sleeve on over his overtaxed left knee. He was standing in his briefs in front of his wardrobe with his hands on his hips, contemplating sweater options, when his phone buzzed on the dresser. 

NICK: I imagine Darcy is down for the count but in the interest of expediency, do either of you have Elle’s addy and/or number? I have no way of contacting her. 

TARA: This is yet another reason why you need to get back on Insta.

NICK:  Publicist managed my public account. I haven’t been on my private one in ages. Can’t remember the password 😬

TARA: I’m just saying, it would have been easy to contact Elle that way. 

TARA: And 

TARA: If you also wanted to get in touch with a certain (lovely, btw) blonde, being on social media would make it easier for you to reach out. 

TARA: Or for her to reach out to you

MENACE: Wot wot wot IS THIS about a lovely blonde 👀!?!?  Nickyyyyyyy

TARA: Darcy go back to bed plz

MENACE: yyyyyyyyyyyyyyy

TARA: 🙄

MENACE: yyyyyyyyyy 

MENACE: give us the ☕

NICK: Can I have Elle’s info please?

TARA: Attachment: Elle Argent

NICK: Thank you

NICK: For the info, and the well-intentioned meddling, but Immy and I are just friends.

MENACE: IMMY

MENACE: I like Immy. I want to be her friend too

MENACE: But not like Nick wants to be her “friend” 

MENACE: TARA IS THE ONLY WOMAN FOR ME

NICK: Not “friend”

NICK: Friend

TARA: Copy that, didn’t mean to assume. 

TARA: You two just seemed cute together 😊

TARA: Have fun at dinner tonight! Heads up, they all live quite far out, it’ll be an hour+ each way. 

NICK: Sai’s giving me a lift home later on his way back from Kent

NICK: Wait- who’s “they all”? Do Elle and Tao have flatmates? I'm bringing dessert.

MENACE: Just one. 

MENACE: DRESS WARM NICKY

NICK: ?

TARA: Charlie lives with them. 

TARA: Darcy, I say this with love, but go the fuck to sleep or I’m locking you out of our Disney+ account

MENACE: You wouldn’t

TARA: I would

MENACE: 😮😱😴

TARA: What are you thinking of bringing for dessert Nick?

TARA:... Nick?

Chapter Text

Dinner: Part 1

Charlie had a couple of options. 

He could have his rapidly approaching menty b on the Tube, but it would be rather rude to subject hundreds of unsuspecting commuters to his hysterics. 

He could try and hold it together till he was back at the flat, but Elle and Tao knew him too well not to notice if he took an hour-long shower or locked himself away in his room. 

So Charlie walked down into the station as far as the turnstiles, counted to 500, then backtracked up the steps and across the street to the coffee shop. He gave his best smile at Katya powering down the espresso machines, then shut himself in the loo and had a big, snotty weep. 

He had, he thought, rather earned it. 

When he emerged ten minutes later, wrung out but calmer, Katya had come around the counter and was leaning against the display case. She straightened when she saw Charlie, and thrust a small lemonade at him. 

“On the house,” she’d said brusquely, placing a straw in Charlie’s hand as he had blinked in surprise. “Is Ginger McBiceps giving you trouble?”

Charlie started. “Who?”

“That bloke you was speakin’ with just now.” She gave a silver-headed nod towards the large store windows and the station entrance clearly visible across the road. “Big lad who was following you this morning.”

Charlie frowned, “What do you mean, following me?”

“When you came in with that kid, he was definitely following you. Staring. He wasn’t subtle. You two know each other?”

“We… we met this afternoon. After I was here with Theo.”

“Huh.” Katya took off her glasses and wiped them on her apron, squinting at Charlie’s bewildered face. “Well you watch yourself, yeah?”

“Yes,” Charlie replied dazedly, “Ta, Katya. See you tomorrow.”

As Charlie sat sipping his lemonade in the cramped train car on the long journey home, he considered calling Tori. The day had been absolutely overwhelming. The shock of Ben’s assault, the revelation that he had basically been stalking him, his terrible and instantaneous crush on Nick, the mixture of humiliation and gratitude that Nick had been the one to save him from Ben… it was all so much . 

And now this latest bombshell, courtesy of his favourite barista, that Nick might not be all that he seemed.

Charlie was so confused . Every instinct he had was telling him that Nick was a genuinely good person. 

But then again, Charlie had never imagined Ben would be capable of assault. 

All things considered, he might not be able to trust his own judgement. Particularly when it came to men.

Charlie leaned back and thumped his head against the window behind him, gazing up at the ceiling of the train car and asked himself, not for the first or second or even hundredth time in his life, “What would Tori do?”

The answer came immediately : “I’d walk right up to Nick and ask what the fuck his deal is. And as for Ben, well. No body, no crime.”

Charlie nodded to himself and took a decisive sip of his lemonade. Right. Tomorrow he would find a moment to have a forthright conversation with Nick. In the meantime, he would do his best to put the last 12 hours out of his mind. Yup. Just not think about it. Obsessively. He was so good at that. 

The train pulled into Whitechapel, and Charlie’s phone buzzed with an incoming text. 

ELLE: Are you on your way home? Can you please pick up some tomato paste from the corner shop? I’m making shakshuka. 

CHARLIE: Can do ❤️

ELLE: Thanks love! 

ELLE: Heads up, Nick will be joining. He’s coming round so we can put together his looks for tomorrow.

Charlie tried not to alarm the passengers around him as he burst into hysterical giggles. 

Because of course Nick was coming over. To his flat. Why bloody not?

Charlie gave up. The universe had chosen violence today, and he would just have to ride it out. 

And on the upside, he might have the chance to get to the bottom of things with Nicholas Nelson sooner than he had expected. 

🍂🍃🍂🍃🍂🍃

Nick stood in front of Elle, Tao, and Charlie’s front door wearing a deep plum sweater and his second-best pair of jeans, the tupperware of madeleines he had promised Sarah sheepishly clutched in his hands. His madeleines were miles better than his macarons, and he could not bring himself to subject his hosts (okay fine, could not subject Charlie ) to subpar, hastily defrosted baking. He would make Sarah another batch over the weekend. 

Unable to find a bell button, Nick gave the door a few taps.

“It’s open!” Elle called. “Come on in, Nick- shoes off please! I’m back in the kitchen.”

Nick turned the handle and stepped into the flat, toeing off his trainers and placing them in the overflowing shoe rack by the door. He was amused to see that while Elle’s heels and Tao’s trainers were slotted higgledy-piggledy on their shelves, Charlie’s Converse were arranged by colour in neat, military lines.

“You’ll want a pair of slippers.” Nick looked up to see Tao sitting in front of two large monitors in the corner of the living room, looking quite different in his bluelight glasses and sans beanie. “Elle does her best, but needles and safety pins on the floor are inevitable.” Nick slipped his lavender-socked feet into one of the pairs of slippers next to the shoe rack. As he stepped out of the hallway and into the main area of the flat, he quickly understood what Tao was talking about.

The centre of the room was taken up by Elle’s worktable, a sewing machine, and other bits of equipment that were a mystery to Nick. The built-in bookshelves flanking either side of the large front window were filled with meticulously labelled bins of fabric and notions, and one side of the loveseat inside the window nook was piled high with folded articles of clothing. 

While the room clearly mostly served as a work space, there were many touches of home. Plants hung from baskets in front of the window, and the walls were all filled with a variety of artwork. The soft glow of several table and floor lamps made the space feel cosy rather than cramped. As Nick was taking in the space, Tao spoke up. 

“I’m sorry, I’m going to be an awful host for a little while yet, I’m just finishing up going through the video from today. Please make yourself at home though.” Tao had already turned back to his computer, brow furrowed in concentration. 

Nick had known Tao for less than a day, but had already learned not to take his abrasiveness personally. Nick circled the work table and walked past the window to go greet Elle. 

Nick pulled aside the beaded curtain partition and stepped into the small kitchen. Elle had opened a window to let the cool autumn breeze in and the hot air from her cooking out, but the room was still warm. She had wrapped her hair up in a scarf on top of her head and thrown an apron on loosely over her light shirtdress. Nick recognized the sounds of Aya Nakamura playing from the bluetooth speaker on the counter by the stove. Nick returned Elle’s wide smile as she put down her glass of wine and leaned over to hug him hello. 

“Nick! Ooooh, I love your sweater, that colour is delicious on you. You are right on time, but I am a little behind. We’re doing shakshuka with some pita and salad. Breakfast for dinner, if you will. I hope that’s okay? With how busy we’ve all been, groceries have been an afterthought.”

“More than okay! It smells amazing.” Nick was not lying, his stomach rumbled at the scents wafting from the stove and oven. “Is there anything I can do to help?” Even as he asked the question, Nick had a feeling the best thing he could do was get out of Elle’s way. His large frame took up what felt like most of the small kitchen. 

“You’re such a sweetheart, but no, thank you. This should only take another ten minutes, fifteen at the most. There’s sparkling water and white wine in the fridge as well as beer. What do you fancy?” 

“A beer would be excellent.” Nick placed the container of madeleines on the counter and scooched around Elle to grab an IPA, taking the opportunity to pull the wine from the fridge and top up her glass. 

“I knew I liked you,” she said, taking a sip. “Tao’s going to be rubbish company till he’s done processing the footage from today. Why don’t you go say hi to Charlie while I’m finishing up? I’d bet money he wouldn’t say no to a stout.” Nick swallowed his nerves and nodded brightly as he grabbed a Guinness. 

“He’s in the closet. Second door on the right down the hall,” Elle said, popping the tops off of both the bottles in Nick’s hands. 

Nick blinked. “... right.”

Bemused, Nick made his way past Tao- who was monologing out loud again- and down the hallway to the slightly ajar second door. He steeled himself and gently shouldered it open. 

‘Closet’ was an accurate descriptor, though the space had likely been intended as a bedroom. Double-tiered clothing racks lined each wall and were stuffed to bursting. If Nick had looked up, he would have noticed the additional bars running across the ceiling above his head where even more garments hung. 

But Nick was not looking up. 

Charlie sat at an electric drum kit, silhouetted by fading sunlight pouring through the small window on the far side of the room. Although Nick could hear the rhythmic beat of his drumsticks as they hit the pads, the majority of the sound was being pumped into Charlie’s headphones. Charlie had his eyes closed, his whole body lost in the music; he was oblivious to Nick standing dumbstruck at the door. 

Whatever song Charlie was playing picked up tempo, and his movements grew bigger and faster as he played. As he lifted both arms into the air and threw his head back for the big finish, Charlie opened his eyes.

And shrieked. 

And threw his drumsticks at Nick.

Nick’s knee protested loudly as he dropped down into a crouch. Charlie’s drumsticks whizzed over his head and bounced off the back of the door. 

Charlie ripped off his headphones and bolted to his feet. “OH MY GOD NICK I AM SO SORRY! Jesus CHRIST- you scared me! The sticks just flew out of my hands, I promise I didn’t mean-”

“Should I have brought wine then?”

Charlie screeched to a halt. “What?”

Nick grinned lopsidedly up at him from the floor. “I was told to come bearing Guinness, but perhaps not? If I come back with a glass of what I believe might be Tesco’s finest chardonnay, will you stop throwing things at me?”

Charlie folded his arms and huffed, but could not help the embarrassed smile creeping across his face. “Right, that’s enough out of you, Rugby Lad.”

Nick hid a wince as he got to his feet. “Honestly though, it was my fault for sneaking up on you like that. I was just surprised. I didn’t know you played the drums. That’s so cool.” 

Charlie gave a pleased scoff as he reached to accept the Guinness in Nick’s outstretched hand. “Yes, it doesn’t get much cooler than this,” said Charlie, indicating the floor-to-ceiling crush of garments around him.  “Next, Glastonbury.”

“Are you in a band or anything?” 

“I play with Sahar and her mates sometimes. Once in a while I will fill in for their drummer at gigs. I mostly just play for myself, though. I find it therapeutic?” 

Charlie took a sip of his beer and nervously paced around his drum kit and over to the window. He turned to lean on the sill as he fiddled with the sleeves of his jumper. “I was worried when I moved in with Elle and Tao that there wouldn’t be any room for my kit, or that the noise would be a bother. The built-in sound proofing in here was a lucky turn up.”

Nick hummed in agreement, stepping further into the room. He paused at Charlie’s drumset, and looked thoughtfully at the slighter man where he sat on the other side of it. He could not help the worry from pouring out of his mouth in a low rush:

“You said you find playing therapeutic. Is that why you were playing just now? We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, and ultimately it’s none of my business, but what happened to you today, what Ben did, was awfu l, and a lot , and I hope the drumming helps, but it also might be good to talk to someone? If not Elle or Tao, then maybe Isaac?” 

Nick was afraid he had overstepped when Charlie was quiet for several long seconds, chewing his lip in thought. 

“I’ve got a therapist. Geoff. I’ve an appointment with him on Thursday,” Charlie confessed haltingly. 

“That’s really great,” Nick said earnestly.

Charlie stared at him in surprise. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, Charlie, it really is.” Nick stepped around the drum kit and sat on the stool so that he was looking up at Charlie’s downturned face. “I’ve been in therapy. My friends are great, and my mum is great. They care about me so much, but having someone to talk to who you don’t have to be afraid of disappointing, or burdening, or surprising… I think it’s so helpful. At least, it was for me. I hope it is for you too.” 

As Nick spoke, Charlie’s expression softened. In the silence that followed, a host of emotions passed across Charlie’s face, and Nick waited patiently for him to work through his thoughts.

“Thank you for saying all of that. You’re right, talking to Geoff will help. What happened with Ben was sort of the cherry on top of the shit cake that had been the past week, to be honest with you. It’s not even what is bothering me the most right now.”

Nick’s eyebrows shot up. Charlie was dealing with something worse than Ben ? “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“There is actually.” Charlie bent over to set his beer bottle on the floor before sitting back up and placing his hands firmly on the sill on either side of him. “Nick…” he said shakily. 

“Nick, why were you following me this morning?”

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Please let there be a logical explanation. 

Please please do not let this impossibly kind man turn out to be a creeper. 

Charlie held his breath as Nick’s mouth dropped open and a flush spread across his freckled cheeks. 

“You saw me, then?”

Charlie felt sick. He clutched the window sill tighter. “No, the barista at the cafe told me you’d followed me in.” 

Nick brought his hands up to his face and groaned. “Look Charlie, I’m so sorry, I was just worried, and in my defence I didn’t know you yet, and the situation looked dodgy-”

“Nick, slow down,” Charlie was confused. “What was dodgy?”

“Erm… you?” Nick winced. 

Charlie crossed his arms. 

“...excuse me?”

“I saw you go up to that sad boy in the park. With the glasses? I was worried about him going off with you.” Nick’s face was fire-engine red. 

“So you followed me?”

“Um. Yes? I just … I wanted to make sure he was safe.”

Charlie had played through a hundred different possible explanations for why Nick had followed him that morning. This had not been one of them.

“Let me see if I understand this correctly,” Charlie said slowly. “This morning you saw me go up to Theo in the park and ask him if he wanted a sandwich. You were worried that I might be some sort of pedo predator, so you followed us to the cafe.”

“Yes.” Nick rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. 

“And then what?”

“I saw you give him a bag of food and an oyster card and a note. He got on the Tube, and you walked away. The next time I saw you was at the studio. I truly had no idea who you were before then.”

Charlie took in Nick’s abashed, blushing face. 

Of course. 

Of course Nick ‘Ginger McBiceps’ Nelson, bonafide superhero, had followed Charlie thinking he might have to rescue poor Theo from his nefarious clutches. 

“... I’m sorry?” Nick ventured. 

This boy was ridiculous .

This boy was perfect.

This boy was perfectly ridiculous.

“ Mes chéris, dinner’s on!” called Elle.

Charlie shook his head, reached over and picked up his beer, and stepped around Nick and his drumset. “No apologies necessary. Come on, Tao has never met a bread he didn’t love. If we dally there’ll be no pita left.”

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Elle set bowls and cutlery out next to the stove, and the four helped themselves to shakshuka and pita, leaving the salad for after. While Nick and Charlie had been chatting in the closet, Tao had moved the piles on the sofa to Elle’s worktable. Glasses, napkins, and a carafe of water were set out on the antique storage trunk that served as a coffee table. 

Tao wheeled his desk chair over, and Charlie curled up in it as Tao plunked himself on one end of the sofa. Nick hesitated, unsure where to seat himself until Elle settled gracefully over Tao’s lap, legs thrown across his, leaving Nick the open spot on the other end of the plush sofa.   

“Wait!” said Tao as they all settled in. He put an arm around Elle to keep her from losing her balance as he twisted to reach behind the sofa and pluck a scented candle and lighter from the sill. He handed them to Charlie, who chuckled as he lit the wick and set the candle on the coffee table with a flourish. 

“There, now we’re fancy,” Tao declared. 

“The fanciest,” agreed Charlie. 

“Sorry Nick, we don’t stand much for ceremony when it comes to mealtimes in this house,” smiled Elle as she blew on her forkful of food.

“Oh please, I love it. I’ve sat through enough awkward formal dinners in my life, this is perfect.”

The four were silent for a spell as they dug into their dinners, the boys making dutifully complimentary noises over Elle’s cooking.

“This is really good,” said Nick, trying mightily to eat at the same pace as his hosts and not inhale the entire bowl within seconds. “Thank you for cooking after such a long day.”

“Thank you for agreeing to come all the way out here for dinner!” Elle replied.

“We weren’t keen on this flat initially,” admitted Tao, “but for the amount of space we have, and honestly need, Elle and I didn’t really see how we could do better for the rent.”

“It’s really nice,” said Nick appreciatively. “How long have you lived here?”

“Gosh, two years now, right Elle? And Charlie moved in a few months ago.”

Nick did not fail to notice Charlie’s subtle cough, and Tao’s quick change of subject. 

“How long have you lived in London, Nick?” 

“Since June, so… four months now, which feels strange. Like I’ve been here for much longer, but also like I just arrived?”

“What brought you to London?” Charlie asked curiously in between dainty mouthfuls of food. 

Nick hesitated, then looked down at his bowl as he replied, “I had been in Leeds, but after I retired from rugby there wasn’t anything to keep me there, really. I like the city, but I didn’t have a community outside of the Badgers. London seemed as good a place as any to make a fresh start, and it’s close to my mum and our dog. 

Nick started as Charlie dropped his spoon into his bowl with a clang. “You have a dog?”

Nick smiled, “Yes, a pug named Henry.”

Charlie was up and around the coffee table in seconds, bumping Nick’s shoulder with his hip to get him to scooch towards the middle of the sofa so he could squeeze in next to him. 

“Show dog.”

Nick beamed as he scrambled for his phone. Mystery solved, Charlie is definitely a dog person . 

Nick was grateful that Tara’s urging had led him to spend the ride to dinner resetting his password to get back onto his personal Instagram account. His feed was at least 75% pictures and videos of Henry and Nellie. Even Tao cooed over a particularly adorable photo of the tiny pug snuggled on the sofa with Sarah. 

“The loves of my life, these two,” said Nick fondly. 

“Ugh, that is so sweet,” sighed Elle. “I would love a cat, but…” She gestured at the flat around them. “There’s just too much here for a cat to get into.”

“We don’t need a cat,” said Tao in what Nick was beginning to recognize as characteristic deadpan humour. “We have Charlie.”

“Oye!” Charlie exclaimed from where he had reseated himself in the desk chair after dishing out salad for the group. The trio on the sofa burst out laughing- he truly looked like a disgruntled feline, contorted with his feet up on the seat, bowl held under his chin and curls puffed out in offence. 

“I don’t have to stand for this. Isaac and I were great roommates, he’d be more than happy to have me back and save me from you lot.” 

Wait , Nick thought, Charlie and Isaac used to live together? 

“He loves you indeed, but he loves his books more.”

He loves you indeed .

“Yes! My god, Nick, you should see Isaac’s flat. It’s basically a library gone mad. He’s even got a cataloguing system,” said Elle. 

“Don’t remind me about the cataloguing system,” Charlie shuddered dramatically, but then giggled as he spun the chair towards Nick. “I agreed to help him build a database based on a whole range of criteria that made sense to Isaac and only Isaac. I ended up turning the project over to him before we were even halfway done for the sake of our friendship, and by that point we’d catalogued something like 2500 books.” 

For the sake of our friendship . 

Friendship.  

“So even if Charlie wanted to abandon us for Isaac, he’d be out of luck, because there is literally no space for him,” laughed Tao. 

“Yes, we were great flatmates when we were both poor uni students, but the moment Isaac had the disposable income to start buying bookshelves, it was game over.” 

Flatmates.

Nick finally popped. “So you and Isaac aren’t together ?” 

Charlie, Elle, and Tao all froze mid-bite. 

“Come again?” said Tao. 

“I’m sorry,” said Nick, flustered at his unintentional outburst. “I just, today at the studio you two seemed very close, I sort of got the feeling you might be, erm, involved?” 

Involved? Nick wanted the floor to swallow him up. 

Elle and Tao started giggling, but Charlie held Nick’s gaze, biting his lip to keep from smiling since Nick was clearly embarrassed. “I mean, everyone in our friendship circle is a little in love with Isaac.”

“It’s true,” said Tao.

“100%,” Elle added.

“But Isaac is ace. We could each of us throw ourselves at him for the rest of time, but alas, none of us stand a chance.” Charlie took in Nick’s sheepish expression and went on reassuringly. “I can understand why you might think we were dating though. Isaac was the first friend I made at uni, and we are very close, but our bromance is purely platonic.”

“What about you, Nicholas?” said Elle, swirling her wine glass with a mischievous arch of an eyebrow. “Are you seeing anyone?”

“He’ll be walking down the aisle with Imogen by Friday if she had anything to say about it,” interjected Tao as he shoved his last bite of salad in his mouth. 

“Immy is lovely. We were chatting today and I am glad to have made a new friend,” Nick said firmly. 

Elle beamed at him, “Quite right, she’s a ray of bloody sunshine. I’m so glad she agreed to do makeup and hair for us. She came on a bit strong with you today Nick, but she’s incredibly talented, and completely professional… most of the time.”

“I know I’ll be in good hands tomorrow,” Nick said, trying to read the strange expression on Charlie’s face. Before Elle could circle back to his relationship status, Nick stood. “Can I clear the bowls? If you have room, I brought dessert.” 

Encouraged by the enthusiastic yeses from Tao and Elle, Nick collected everyone’s dishes and placed them in the kitchen sink before returning with the container of madeleines and setting it on the coffee table. 

“There’s three flavours- plain vanilla, pistachio, and lavender earl grey.” Nick pointed out each as Elle and Tao leaned forward to pick up a lavender and pistachio. He tried not to be disappointed when Charlie remained curled up in his chair. “I might have gone a bit heavy with the tea- the lavender’s a little hard to taste,” Nick admitted as Elle and Tao bit into their madeleines. 

“Oh my god, these are so good ,” moaned Elle.

Tao stuffed the second half of his pistachio madeleine into his mouth and immediately leaned forward to grab another. 

“Wait, you made these?” Charlie asked Nick, wide-eyed as Elle and Tao ascended to a new plane of existence on the sofa across from him. 

Nick rubbed the back of his neck with a pleased smile. “Yeah, I’m not much of a cook, but I love baking. It’s sort of like your drumming… I find it therapeutic.”

Charlie stared at the container with an expression that struck Nick as oddly antagonistic before leaning forward to pick up a plain madeleine. Elle and Tao both watched astonished as Charlie took a tentative bite. 

Charlie’s eyes fell shut. “What the fuck Nick.”

“Good?”

“These are insane .” Charlie took another, more enthusiastic bite, and made a noise that made Nick feel slightly sweaty. 

“I’m glad. They’re honestly pretty easy to make. If I had known we were doing a breakfast-for-dinner sort of theme, I would have tried for crêpes suzettes. ”

Charlie froze mid-chew, and then sputtered as he began to cough. Tao got up to give him a few thumps on the back. Elle turned to Nick and said, “Your accent is good. Do you speak French?”

“It’s actually my first language. Well, it was. My dad’s French, but we moved to England to be closer to my mum’s family when I was two. I’m still mostly fluent, but I’m definitely more comfortable in English.”

Charlie’s coughing got worse, and Tao walked him to the kitchen to get some more water. 

“I’m jealous!” admitted Elle. “I always wished I was properly bilingual. My mum is from Egypt, but she was so keen to improve her English that she rarely spoke Arabic at home. Tao can understand Cantonese, but he doesn’t speak it very well. And Charlie’s Spanish-”

“What’s that about my Spanish?” Charlie and Tao had returned with fresh beers and the rest of the chardonnay for Elle. 

“-is dead sexy,” winked Elle. “Your GCSE Spanish is what gets you all the boys.” 

“* No se detectaron mentiras ,” quipped Charlie. He started to top up Elle’s glass, but she gently declined. “Thank you love, but I’d better not. It’s 8:30 and Nick and I still have work to do.”

Nick had almost forgotten the reason he was over in the first place. 

“I know you literally just came out of the closet this morning, but I am afraid I have to ask you to accompany me back into it,” Elle said as she rose to her feet.

“What???” Charlie spun the chair towards Nick so quickly that he had to plant both feet on the floor to avoid flying out of it. “What do you mean, came out this morning? ”

Elle winced, regretting how the wine had loosened her tongue.

“God, was that this morning?” Nick laughed. “I’d actually almost forgotten about it. Yeah, when I told everyone at the studio that I’m bi, that was the first time I’d told anyone other than Tara and Darcy.” Nick shrugged. 

Tao sat up and turned to face Nick, his face pale and urgent. “Nick, I am so sorry. I ran my mouth this morning and if I made you feel pressured-”

“No, no it wasn’t anything you said,” Nick jumped in reassuringly. “I don’t know why this morning felt like the right moment, but it did. You didn’t force me to admit anything I didn’t want to. I’d been thinking about coming out publicly for a long time. Honestly, it was a relief to finally say it out loud.”

“It was also really brave,” said Charlie quietly. “Coming out is scary, whether it’s the first time or the hundredth time.”

Nick shook his head dismissively. “If I were brave, I would have come out while I was still in rugby and had a chance to make an actual difference by it.”  

“You do and still can make a difference, Nick Nelson,” said Elle. “Come on, let’s get you ready for your big queer cover shoot.”

❤️🧡💛💚💙💜

Belated Bonus Art for Chapter 3  😊

Chapter Text

Tao and Charlie wore identical scowls as they sat shoulder to shoulder on the bed in Charlie’s small room. Arms folded, teeth grinding, they glared at the wall separating them from where they could hear Elle and Nick giggling.

“You would think I’d be used to Elle disappearing into the closet with hot models by now,” grouched Tao. 

“You think Nick is hot?”

“I may be straight, but I do have EYES, Charlie.”

“Straight, with the notable exception of Isaac.”

“Isaac’s allure transcends all laws and labels, and we both know it.”

“Do you think he knows it?”

“That fucker knows his power, I am sure of it. Unlike Rugby Lad, who is oblivious to the destruction he has been leaving in his wake all bloody day.”

“What do you mean?”

“ What do you mean’ ?!?” Tao mimicked, throwing his hands up in the air before smacking them down on the duvet. 

“Charlie Spring! Every single person on our campaign who has even a passing attraction to men spent all afternoon obsessing over Nick Nelson and his biceps.”

“And his balls.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” Charlie frowned. “It must be really hard, actually.”

“What, Nick’s biceps? His balls ?”

“No you knob. I mean that it must be hard attracting so much attention by just existing .”

“Yes, it must be terrible, having everyone drooling over you whenever you walk in a room. The horror.” Tao sighed and let himself fall backwards onto Charlie’s bed, contemplating the ceiling for a few moments before saying, “...actually, you’re right, I was exhausted just watching Imogen try to climb Nick like a tree today. I can’t imagine how Nick must have felt.”

Charlie fell back on the bed next to his friend. “And he’s also rather well-known because of rugby, right? Elle mentioned that he’s something of a celebrity?”

Tao and Charlie turned their heads to meet each other’s eyes, then simultaneously reached down into their pockets to pull out their phones. 

They had time to kill. It was time for some light internet stalking.

🍂🍃🍂🍃🍂🍃

“Let’s talk through what we’re going to try and accomplish together tonight, and about how to make it fun and comfortable for you.” Elle pulled out her phone and opened Spotify to start a new playlist. “But first, please tell me three songs or artists you like.”

“I actually quite like Aya Nakamura who you were playing earlier. Shall we stick with the French pop? Stromae? Christine and the Queens?” 

Elle looked up at Nick, narrowing her eyes slightly. “I am on to you, Nick Nelson.”

Nick cocked his head. “What do you mean?”

“I believe you when you say you like Aya- because who wouldn’t? I’ll fight them- but I also think the picks you just gave are ones you think I might like.”

“Well… yes?” Nick was both warmed and unsettled by how seen he felt. “It just seemed like the polite thing to do? Pick something we both like?”

“Mhmmm, and that is very kind and thoughtful of you. But let’s try again, yeah?”

“Um… The 1975… Taylor Swift… and Darcy recently introduced me to Chapell Roan.” 

“Perfection.” Elle set the phone down, playing “Good Luck Babe” on low as she turned to Nick.

“So, ideally we would put together nine ensembles for you tonight, but given the late hour I think we’ll aim for six and see how we go. I meant what I said earlier today- the whole point of these clothes is to make you feel more yourself. I’m going to ask you lots of questions and have you try on lots of different things. Some of it might initially feel out of your comfort zone. If it’s truly not working for you, we will nix it, but I’m going to ask you to be a little bit brave, and be open to surprise. Something that looks naff on a hanger can look amazing once you put it on. It might also look silly- but fortune favours the bold!” Elle clapped her hands together and beamed. “We won’t know until we try.”

Nick nodded. He’d faced 115kg of rugby player coming at him down the pitch at 25km per hour. He could handle some silly-looking trousers. “I can do that. ”

“Wonderful!” Elle pulled out a full length mirror from behind a garment rack, along with a flimsy rattan dressing screen. “Before I send you behind the screen with a pile of latex - I’m kidding, I promise - the first thing I need to do is take your measurements. It will be faster and more accurate if you are down to your boxers, and a vest if you’re wearing one, but I can also take measurements with you dressed as is. It’s completely up to you.”

Nick could not help chuckling. “I’ve spent more than half my life in locker rooms with starkers rugby lads and getting manhandled on physio tables, any sense of modesty or personal space I might have had is long gone. But I really appreciate you asking.”

Nick took off his jeans, sweater, and the henley beneath it, and stood blushing slightly in his boxer briefs and socks. Despite his bravado, he felt a little exposed, but Elle’s calm, professional demeanour quickly put him at ease. Elle took out her tape measure and narrated everything she was doing as she started taking measurements of Nick’s torso. 

As she circled behind him, Nick felt Elle hesitate. 

“Nick, is there any part of your body that hurts or is sensitive right now? Sorry, I should have asked you earlier.”

Nick realised she was looking at the surgical scars along his spine and shoulders. “Everything back there is healed,” said Nick. “The only thing that is actively painful is my left knee, and I just have to be a bit careful with it.” A lie by omission, but Nick was not about to give Elle the complete laundry list. As Elle continued to take his measurements, Nick rushed to add, “Tara knows where all the creaky bits are, so she’ll be able to work with me tomorrow on movement that I can manage, please don’t worry.”

“I’m not worried at all Nick, I know you’ll be great.” Elle stepped back and tossed her tape measure over her head to rest around her shoulders. “Right, you can get dressed and undressed behind the dressing screen, but if you need help with anything I can pop around or you can step out.” 

Nick stepped behind the screen as Elle began to pull pieces off the racks. “As we go, I might need to make adjustments to the clothes, put pins in place, that sort of thing. I know you said you are used to people being in your space, but let me know if you need a break at any point, yeah?”

“I will, thank you Elle.”

Elle draped a pile of clothes over the top of the screen. “Excellent. So, please put these on. While you do, tell me about those lovely lavender socks.”

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“Are they listening to Taylor Swift ?” 

“Girl please, don’t even try to pretend you’re not a Swiftie.”

“How dare you.”

“Tao, you have the entire Midnights album memorised.”

“Lies.”

“Last week you sang the whole thing acapella while you were making fried rice. I have it on video.”

“.... rrrrrrrude! … but, speaking of video, Nick really does speak fluent French. I just found a clip of him doing an interview after a game in Saint-Denis FOR FUCK’S SAKE CHARLIE GET OFF I will Airdrop you the link calm down.”

“Yespleasethankyou.”

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“Tell me about a time you felt really good in your clothes.”

“You’ll laugh.”

“I will not.”

“I honestly always liked my school uniform. The blazers, the tie, the whole bit.”

“Deranged. Explain.”

“I think I liked it for the same reasons I liked wearing tracksuits and my rugby kit- like I was part of the tribe, that I didn’t stand out…”

“Yeah?” Elle gently urged.

“... I think it’s also because… when I was sixteen and got serious about rugby, I went from being a pretty slim 5’8” to a lumbering six feet, and finding clothes that fit became impossible. I started to get so many comments about my body. I think people meant them as compliments, and sometimes they felt good… but they mostly made me self conscious. I wasn’t trying to show off my physique, I was just growing out of my clothes so quickly. The school uniforms hid my muscles a bit, and… honestly, it was nice to have a break from being Rugby King Nick Nelson and just be a student.”

Nick let out a shaky chuckle. “I also thought I looked quite cool hanging out by the gates after school with my mates, shirtsleeves rolled up, blazer over one shoulder, so suave.”

“Did you like school?”

“I did, for the most part. At a specialist sports school the academics weren’t all that challenging. On the one hand it was sort of a relief, because I have a learning disability that I didn’t get support for till I was older, but on the other hand I wish I’d had a bit better an education. I was rubbish at maths and science, but I loved history and literature.”

“Charlie does too! Well, specifically Greek and Roman history. I think he would have been much happier studying Classics, but there was pressure from his family and he ended up with a degree in Maths. He also technically had enough courses for a second degree in Music by the time he finished uni.”

“Oh wow… he’s pretty brilliant then.”

“He is, even if he would never say that about himself. Speaking of brilliant… do you still feel self-conscious wearing clothes that accentuate your build, Nick? We don’t have to go with any of these options, but I have some pieces for you to try that, and I say this with great humility, might look fucking brilliant.”

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Tao and Charlie had found Nick’s public, Badgers-run Instagram account. The last post had been in April, a cryptic text-only image thanking his fans for all of their support. That post had comments disabled, but the previous post from January and on back had comments- sometimes hundreds of them. 

About 60% of the comments were positive, with many effusive compliments on Nick’s performance on the pitch. 10% of them were critical. 

And 30% were just thirsty. 

Look at that scrum-ptious arse 🥵

Right? Bless those teeny tiny shorts 🙏🏾

I’d like to get up and under that! 

“Jesus Christ, some people have no shame,” Tao muttered as he followed along with Charlie’s scrolling. 

Charlie agreed. The way Nick was being objectified was gross. He felt terrible for him. 

But also-

“Hrrrrrkkkmmmppphh” Charlie said, watching a reel of Nick racing down a pitch in the pouring rain.

“...would you like a moment alone?”

“Oh fuck off.”

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“Okay, this shirt next. Nick, I’m curious, how did you learn to bake?”

“It started when I wanted to make a birthday cake for my brother.”

“Aw bless! How old were you?”

“I was eleven, and David was fifteen. I was determined not to have to ask our mum for help, so I tried muddling through with a cookbook while she was working a night shift. I had grand plans to surprise her and David in the morning.”

“And did you?”

“Oh yes, mum was very surprised when she came home at 2am to a house that smelled of burnt cake with me fast asleep at the kitchen table. We laugh about it now. David didn’t find it funny though. At the time he felt quite put out that I had managed to make his birthday all about me.”

“Teenage boys can be such pricks.”

Nick did not clarify that David was still very much a prick. 

“Mum decided it would be good to teach me how to bake, if only to keep from having her house burnt down. I used to bake treats for the kids on my team. They all thought it was my mum that made them, and I never corrected them. I guess I felt a bit embarrassed about it at the time, but that’s toxic masculinity for you.”

“I’m sorry that you felt like you had to hide your baking, but it sounds like it made you happy despite that, and that you liked making other people happy with it.”

“Yeah. I mean, the best bit of rugby is- was being able to support my teammates. The whole fame thing is a mixed bag, but I am not going to lie, it was also pretty brilliant getting to share the love of the game with a stadium full of fans. Losses were hard, but the wins… knowing you’ve made crowds of thousands happy is such a rush.”

“You remind me of Tao in that way.”

Elle laughed at Nick’s sceptical face. 

“You might have noticed that Tao is not the strongest communicator. He tries, but my Special Interest King has some trouble connecting with people in conversation. Socially, he can be a bit clueless, but in many ways he’s the most perceptive person I know. He shows care with actions.” 

Elle’s expression turned positively gooey. “On our very first date, Tao and I had a silly conversation about our dream homes, as a joke really. He wanted a film room, a garden with a pond, a slide instead of a staircase, those sorts of things. I said that I wanted a conservatory full of plants all year round. When we moved in here together, the first thing he came home with was all of those plants for the bay window in the living room. He’d researched which would do best indoors, and selected ones that would all bloom at different points in the year. I had completely forgotten our conversation, but he remembered, five years later .” 

Elle’s smile turned a little sad. 

“Tao’s an only child, and his father passed when he was 12. He had a pretty lonely time when he was younger. Movies were really important to him, and he wants so badly to make films that give other people the kind of hopeful, transformative experiences he had. The way he talks about filmmaking sounds a little like how you just described rugby.”

Nick grinned. “Well, well. Tao the secret softie.”

“Charlie is too, actually.”

“Oh, believe me, I know,” Nick said. 

Elle arched a questioning brow as she handed Nick a pair of trousers. 

“Erm, so. Funny story- the studio today wasn’t actually the first place I encountered Charlie…”

🍂🍃🍂🍃🍂🍃

“What is the difference between Rugby Union and Rugby League?”

“Charlie, I have no bloody idea, and could not care less.”

“...Huh, Nick was team captain, and the fly-half, but not all fly-halfs are captains?”

“I have no idea what any of that means.”

“It means that Nick wasn’t just a player on the team, he was a leader with lots of responsibility.”

“That would explain the more vitriolic comments on his Insta. Being captain, he probably got blamed for anything that didn’t go well… oh, will you look at that, he does charity work too.”

“No. No he does not. You shut up right now.”

“I am afraid that yes, yes he does. He’s partnered with a program that helps children with dyslexia improve their reading…”

“...”

“...and one for senior dogs.”

“!!!”

“Charlie… you good?”

“Hrrmmphhgerdah.”

“Sounds right.”

🍂🍃🍂🍃🍂🍃

Elle and Nick were laughing so hard that they both had tears streaming down their faces.  

“I just, I am picturing you army crawling through the park, diving into bushes and hiding behind lamp posts, following Charlie like some sort of demented detective.”

“Oh I am sure I was not even that subtle. I have many talents, Elle Argent, but being sneaky isn’t one of them.” Nick wiped his eyes and attempted to catch his breath. “I’m not surprised the barista called me out.”

Elle placed her hands on her hips and looked fondly at Nick where he was peeking over the top of the dressing screen. “As funny as this story is, what I legitimately love is how both you and Charlie immediately swooped in to help a child in need like bloody superheroes.”

Elle was not surprised when Nick gave one of his (trademark, it seemed) embarrassed lopsided smiles and turned away to finish buttoning his shirt. “Charlie was the one who stepped in, really.” Nick frowned slightly as he looked down at himself. “I’m not sure this fits. The shirt is quite… short?”

“Come on out and let me work some magic on it- ooohhh, don’t look at yourself yet!” Elle quickly twirled to spin the mirror around and leaned it against the drum kit. When she turned back to face Nick, she gasped. “Oh. I am good.” 

Nick grinned. “Am I allowed to see?”

“Hang on a tick, let me just..” Elle had Nick hold still as she pinned darts into the back of his button-down. “Here’s what is true about fashion shoots: most of the time the clothes don’t actually fit the model. They are pinned and clipped for the gods, and that is fine since the outfit only has to look good on camera. I’ll be able to do some alterations, but there may be a couple of things we need to cheat on.”

Elle stepped around to face Nick, and placed her hands gently on his shoulders. “You’ve probably heard the phrase, ‘Dress for the job you want’, yeah?”

Nick nodded. 

“Well, let’s take it further. What would it be like to dress for the life you want?”

Nick worried his lip and looked down. “What if I don’t know what I want out of my life?” 

“Then we try on a whole load of lives until one feels right,” Elle said simply. She squeezed Nick’s shoulders before stepping back and unbuttoning his shirt sleeves. As she rolled them up into crisp French cuffs, she went on:

“Picture this. You’ve spent all day doing something you love- maybe working with kids on their reading for that charity you mentioned? You’re dressed comfortably, because at some point you’re obviously going to take the kids outside for a touch rugby break.”

Elle gestured for Nick to unbutton his shirt, revealing the vest underneath. “However, you’re also dressed to impress, because you, Nick Nelson, have a hot date after work.” She booped his nose before spinning around to grab accessories and a pair of shoes. 

“Where am I going on this date?”

“Oh, so you don’t know where, but you do know who? ” Elle teased, placing two bracelets on Nick’s left wrist. 

Nick ducked his head as he stepped into the shoes. “Um, there might be a candidate or two.” 

“Mhmmm.” Elle crouched to adjust the hems of Nick’s trousers. “Well, where would you take this person or two out?” 

“I think I’d maybe invite them over for dinner? I’ve got this feeling they’re a picky eater, though,” Nick said without thinking. Elle stood to peer at him over her glasses.

“Is that right?” Elle said lightly, making a few final adjustments to Nick’s collar.

“Um…”

“The picky eaters I know? They love pasta in all its forms.”

“... do they?”

“Mhmm. Almost as much as they love madeleines.” Elle winked as Nick sputtered, turning to retrieve the mirror. “Right, you’ve come home, you’ve made dinner, and of course you’ve baked. The doorbell rings, you take off your apron, and go to answer the door.” Elle spun around to hold the mirror up in front of Nick. “This is what your hot date sees.”

Nick took in his reflection. Elle waited, watching Nick’s face as he processed. 

This was always her favourite part. 

Nick fought to keep his face carefully blank. “Elle?”

“Yesssss?”

“Hypothetically… do we think my hot date would like this look?”

“No offence to your hot date, but we do not give single a fuck about him right now. These clothes are for you . Do you like this look?”

Nick couldn’t stop the smile creeping across his face. “Yes.”

“Does it feel like you?”

“... it does, but it also feels a bit scary? Is that normal?”

“Yes. There is nothing scarier than expressing yourself authentically. There’s also nothing better.”

Elle let out a mental WHOOP as Nick’s shoulders relaxed. He put his hands in his pockets and turned his body in the mirror to inspect his outfit from every angle. He finally looked up and gave Elle a smile that was still lopsided and slightly embarrassed, but with something new in it too.

“Would you help me take a pic to send to Tara and Darcy?”

🍂🍃🍂🍃🍂🍃

Tao and Charlie were quiet as they lay on the bed staring up at Tao’s phone, taking in the comments beneath a post from just over a year ago. The photo showed Nick covered in mud and smiling while shaking hands with a player on the opposing team. The caption heartily congratulated Liverpool on winning that day’s match. 

The comments were not nearly as gracious. 

Fucking Nancy Nelson and his shit strategy cost us the game

Why is this useless faggot captain??

this crop of rookies r useless poofters as well

And on it went. 

“These people are supposed be fans ?” Tao powered off his phone screen and dropped his arm onto the duvet with a disgusted sigh.

“No wonder he waited to come out,” Charlie said quietly. 

Tao hesitated next to him before asking just as quietly, “Are you okay?”

Charlie was startled by the question, and was trying to formulate a response when his phone buzzed. Tao leaned over to read the text along with him. 

ELLE: A preview

ELLE: to prepare you

ELLE: because you are not ready to be in the same room as this smoke show

ELLE: DAMN I AM GOOD

ELLE: Image

Elle was right. Charlie was not ready.

Elle was in the foreground, the photo cropped so that only a corner of her delighted face was visible. Nick stood behind her in a pair of wide-legged trousers paired with a cropped dress shirt that by all rights should have looked absurd, but that somehow worked . The buttons were undone and the sleeves rolled up, and this combined with Nick’s relaxed grin made the high fashion look seem almost casual. Roguish even. 

It wasn’t lost on either man that the subtle stripes on the shirt and the small beads on Nick’s woven leather bracelet were the colours of the bisexual pride flag. 

Tao had taken one look at the photo and expected Charlie to descend into horny gay panic, but when he turned his head to check in on his friend, Charlie’s eyes weren’t filled with lust. They were filled with worry. 

Charlie sat up and perched on the edge of the bed, staring down at his phone. Tao joined him, placing a reassuring hand on Charlie’s knee. 

“If Nick’s fans were cruel and homophobic before, can you imagine how they’ll be once his sexuality is public knowledge?” Charlie whispered. 

“He’s retired,” Tao ventured. “Maybe no one will care?”

He knew as he said it that it was not true, and so did Charlie. Nick had not posted on his Badgers account in months, but he still had almost a million followers. 

The two looked up with a start as twin gales of laughter came from the next room. Elle’s exuberant giggle was familiar to both of them, but the sound of Nick’s was new. 

Charlie thought it was beautiful. He could have listened to the joy-filled sound forever.

And he couldn’t bear the thought of that joy being taken away from Nick. 

🍂🍃🍂🍃🍂🍃

Nick had just finished re-dressing when his phone sounded with a text.

SAI: Should be there a little after 10.

“Elle, my friend will be here in a few minutes to give me a lift home.”

“Perfect timing! Thank you so much for today, Nick,” Elle gushed as she opened the door and led Nick out.

“No, thank YOU.” Nick turned to Elle as they reached the front door. “Can I hug you?”

“Of course you numpt- OOF.” Nick wrapped Elle in an all-encompassing hug, lifting her clear off the floor.

“You’re amazing,” Nick exclaimed. Elle chuckled, patting Nick on the back. “Yes yes, I know.”

Nick took the sound of Tao clearing his throat as his cue to put Elle down. 

“How did it go?” Tao said, velcroing himself to Elle’s side. 

“Brilliantly!” Elle threaded her arm through Tao’s as she beamed at him and Nick. “I am sorry about James’ accident, but Nick, I am thrilled you are part of this. It feels like fate.”

Nick nodded, and couldn’t help but glance at Charlie where he hung back a little further down the corridor, “It sort of does, right?”

As Nick bent down to put his shoes back on, Charlie stepped forward. “Are you leaving now?”

“Yes, a mate’s giving me a lift home, he’ll be downstairs soon.”

“I’ll walk you down.” Charlie leaned over for a pair of his shoes, his arm brushing Nick’s with a tingle. “I’ve got some questions about your timesheet.”

“Oh, I actually didn’t-”

“It’ll only take a minute, come on McBiceps,” Charlie interrupted, opening the front door and grabbing Nick’s wrist with another electric crackle. 

Nick let himself be dragged out of the flat. “Bye Elle! Bye Tao!”

“See you tomorrow, Nick!” Elle called, closing the front door but leaving it unlocked.

“Did Charlie just call Nick ‘Mc Biceps’?” said Tao. “Out loud?”

“Yup.”

“Do you think he realises he said it out loud?”

“Nope.”

“Do we tell him?”

“Absolutely not.”

🍂🍃🍂🍃🍂🍃

Charlie kept his grip on Nick’s wrist as he marched him down the hallway and out onto the sidewalk in front of their building. He led them under a street lamp, making sure to drop Nick’s hand before turning around to face him. There was no way Charlie could handle touching Nick and looking at him at the same time. 

Nick’s gaze was fond but puzzled, the glow of the streetlamp behind him giving him a soft halo as he considered Charlie. “I never filled out a timesheet.”

“I know. You really should, but that’s not what I wanted to talk about.”

Nick licked his lips nervously. Charlie summoned all of his willpower to stay focused.

Be brave, Charlie. You need to warn him. 

“Have you thought about what happens after the campaign images come out?”

Nick cocked his head. “What do you mean?”

“I know you know this, but L’Argent is a very queer label. If everything goes the way it is supposed to, images and videos and reels and TikToks of you are going to be everywhere .” Charlie stepped forward, looking up at Nick earnestly as he continued. “What you did today Nick, coming out, was so brave. But it’s one thing to come out to a closed room of relative strangers, it’s another to come out to the whole world via fashion shoot.”

Charlie could not read Nick’s expression in the dim light, but soldiered on, determined to help Nick understand. “Elle was right, you showed up out of nowhere to step in and replace James like a bloody miracle, and you’ll be brilliant, and I know Elle is excited… but this isn’t just about our campaign, it’s about your life . Once you’re out, there’s no going ba-” 

Charlie winced as his voice broke. He looked down at his unlaced Converse and pressed on as best he could. “It sounds like you have people in your life who will support you no matter what, but some people… some of them won’t, Nick. You’re a public figure, and there will be all kinds of cruel backlash. I am sure loads of you fans will respond positively, but…” 

Charlie steeled himself to look up into Nick’s wide eyes. “Everything has happened so fast, and no one has given you the chance to really think about how modelling for L’Argent will impact you. If you go home tonight and decide to back out, or you change your mind two days from now, or even two weeks from now, I will sort it out, and no one will blame you or be the least bit upset with you. I promise.”

Charlie bit his lip and held Nick’s gaze. 

Please, Nick. You need to think this through. 

“...Charlie?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I hug you?”

Charlie had barely registered that he was nodding before strong arms wrapped around his shoulders and drew him in. Charlie pressed his forehead into Nick’s shoulder in embarrassed, anxious delight, his hands clutching at the sides of Nick’s jumper. Nick turned his head to speak low in Charlie’s ear. “Thank you for saying all of that.”

Charlie hid his full-body shiver by moving to wrap his arms around Nick. “I meant all of it. The second you want out, I’ll make it happen. Or, not want “out”, but want to back out of being out… ugh, you know what I mean.” 

Nick chuckled in his ear. “I promise to think long and hard about everything you’ve said. But I’m afraid you’re not getting rid of me that easily, Charlie Spring.”

Charlie was saved from long, hard, gay panic by the sound of tires careening through dried leaves.

Nick kept his hands on Charlie’s shoulders as he stepped back, turning to see Sai pull up to the curb in his BMW convertible. Sai had the top down despite the cool weather, and leaned over the door to call out a greeting. “Nelson! Your chariot awaits! Evening mate,” Sai nodded at Charlie with a smile. 

“Thanks for coming to get me,” Nick said. He turned back to Charlie. 

“You promise? You’ll really think about this… carefully?” Charlie whispered. 

“I promise.” Nick stepped back, running his hands down Charlie’s shoulders and upper arms in a way that warmed him down to his core. “Bye, Charlie.”

“Bye.”

Nick walked around the front of Sai’s car and hopped in, his bum barely hitting the seat before Sai was peeling off down the road. 

Charlie watched the taillights fade into the night. He turned back towards his building to see two faces pressed up against the window of the front door. 

“For fuck’s sake.”

🍂🍃🍂🍃🍂🍃

Nick was grateful for the lighter traffic of the late hour as Sai floored it back to their flats. “Did you have a good weekend with the fam?” Nick asked, trying to be subtle about the deathgrip he had on his seat.

“It was aces! But forget about me, you’ve been having quite the adventure!” Sai slowed slightly as they approached central London, throwing Nick a glance before casually asking, “Who was the bloke you were mauling out front?”

Nick inhaled sharply. “What?”

“I’m just giving you shit, mate. Your hugs are something else! Was wondering who your new friend was, that’s all. It’s good to see you getting out and meeting people.”

Nick relaxed and hummed in agreement before reaching down into his pocket where his phone was buzzing. 

It was a notification from his personal Instagram account.

@charlie_spr1 has requested to follow you.

“Ohohoho, your FACE mate. Who is she?”

“I’ll tell you all about it later, Sai.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Nick closed his eyes with a smile, and clicked “Accept.”

Chapter Text

Charlie shepherded Elle and Tao back into their flat.  He loved them to the moon and back, but their matching smirks were making him vaguely homicidal. 

The moment Charlie had shut the front door, Tao burst out with, “That was QUITE the long hug goodbye, Springtime.”

Charlie shrugged. “It would seem Nick is a cuddly lad. He lifted you clear off the floor, Elle,” he said pointedly.

Elle grinned, and Tao scoffed.“Yes, that’s why you were foaming at the mouth over his Insta all night, because he is so cuddly.” 

Charlie may or may not have stomped his foot. “I WAS NOT. You take that back right this second or I am posting the entire video of your one-man Midnights tribute concert EVERYWHERE.”

“Charlie,” Elle said kindly as Tao spluttered, “you would be a fool not to be smitten with that cinnamon roll. Nick is lovely, and fit as fuck - almost as fit as you, Tao my love!- and for what it’s worth, I think he is rather smitten with you too.”

Charlie crossed his arms. “He is not.” 

Elle and Tao both threw their hands in the air. 

“He likes Imogen,” Charlie said firmly. 

“I don’t know Charlie,” Elle ventured. “He was pretty clear about him and Imogen just being friendly- and they only just met today!”

“Nick and I only just met today!” Charlie exclaimed triumphantly. “He doesn’t know me, how could he possibly like me?”

“For the sake of argument, let’s say you are right. He at least seems like he wants to get to know you.” As Elle spoke, Tao tacked on a quiet, “in the biblical sense.”

“He seems like he wants to get to know everyone .” Charlie was determined to make his friends see reason. “Nick Nelson is indiscriminately friendly. He’s a bloody golden retriever disguised as a rugby lad.”

“You love dogs,” said Tao. 

“Jesus Christ.” Charlie wearily ran a hand over his face as his friends stared back at him in smug anticipation.

“I think the real question here is…” Elle softened her gaze. “Do you want to get to know him , Charlie Spring?”

Charlie looked everywhere but at Elle. “… he seems alright. I guess.”

“HE SEEMS ALRIGHT?!?” Tao bellowed. In a flash, he was on the other side of the room, and Charlie was horrified to see HIS phone clutched in Tao’s hand.

His unlocked phone. 

“Xu.” Charlie’s voice could have frozen the Thames. “Give me my phone.”

“ He seems alright .” Tao muttered murderously. “I am sorry Charlie, but I can not watch any more pining than what I already had to suffer through this evening. 

Charlie raced around the work table. He was very fast, but it had been a long, exhausting day, and Tao was faster. 

“GIVE ME MY PHONE YOU TOSSER!”

Tao disappeared around the corner and down the hall, and Charlie would have been in hot pursuit had Elle not stepped directly in front of him, bracing her hands on either side of the entryway. 

Charlie shrieked in betrayal.

Elle shrugged.

Charlie ducked under her arm and went tumbling down the hall towards the open closet door. As he reached it, Tao stepped into the threshold.

“It was for your own good.”

Charlie snatched his phone out of Tao’s hands, and looked down in furious panic to see Instagram open.

Tao had sent a Follow request to Nick’s personal account.

Elle came up behind Charlie and placed a soothing hand on his back. “Charlie-”

“You… yooooouuuuu…..” Charlie looked up at Tao.

Tao’s eyes widened as he took a hasty step back. 

“Elle I know you love him, but like you always tell me, there are plenty more fish in the sea.”

Charlie lunged, and Tao careened backward into a clothing rack. Elle threw both of her arms around Charlie’s middle. 

“Charlie!” Elle gasped, “we just love you and want to see you hap- “ 

DING. 

Charlie froze. He slowly straightened, and looked down at his phone. 

Tao stepped cautiously up to Charlie as Elle hooked her chin over his shoulder. They peered down at Charlie’s screen. 

Nick had accepted his Follow request. 

In less than thirty seconds. 

“See?” whispered Elle in Charlie’s ear. 

“Glumphyrjljhadjla,” said Charlie.  

Tao nodded. 

“You’re welcome.”

🍂🍃🍂🍃🍂🍃

After he had bid Sai goodnight in the elevator, Nick had walked into his flat and collapsed directly onto his sofa, dazed by everything that had occurred since he had left home that morning. 

He had meant what he had said to Charlie during their hug (the memory of which made Nick clutch a sofa cushion to his chest as he lay sprawled out, smiling at the ceiling). He was going to think carefully about what it would mean to be properly out. In hindsight, it was completely thick of him to dive into this whole modelling situation without stopping to consider how it would affect not only his life, but the lives of the people he cared about, and his relationships with those people.

Nick pulled the cushion tighter to his chest as he pondered. He definitely did not want his mum, or Sai, or Christian and Otis for that matter, to find out about his sexuality via the internet. 

Which meant he would have to come out to them first. Soon. 

Nick knew deep down that his mum loved him unconditionally. When Tara had come out, it had been Sarah who had sat for hours and days with Tara’s mum and helped her process. When Tara and Darcy had gotten together, and Sarah learned how homophobic and abusive Darcy’s family was, she’d arranged for all of them to attend London Pride together. 

Nick knew Sarah would have no problem with Nick being bisexual, but somehow that conversation was still going to be the scariest. 

Then there was Sai. Sai might be guilty of caring a little too much about what everyone thought of him in order to fit in (see: red BMW convertible) but he had also been the first person to back Nick up and speak out when, shortly after being appointed captain, Nick had put a ban on homophobic and misogynistic slurs on the pitch or in the Badgers locker room. Sai had a cousin he was close to who was gay, and Nick had seen firsthand how Sai had stuck up for him at Verma family functions. Nick was fairly certain Sai would be supportive. 

Christian and Otis on the other hand… Nick did not doubt that the two cared about him. Aside from Sai, they were the only players who had visited him regularly while he had been in hospital and then rehab. Nick was especially grateful for how wonderful his three teammates had been with Sarah. His mum had been a wreck for the first weeks of his recovery. However, Nick also had a feeling that Christian and Otis, the two laddest of lads, would need some time to process.

Did he want to come out to the rest of his teammates on the Badgers? Did he owe them a heads up? Would they look back on his time with them differently? 

Shit, Nick realised. He should probably tell Coach. Christ, and his publicist. 

Nick clocked his rapid heartbeat, and willed himself to take deep slow breaths and relax his clenched muscles. 

Charlie was right. He really did need to think this whole thing through more carefully. 

Charlie cared about him. 

No, Nick admonished himself. Charlie cares about everyone . That’s the type of person he is. 

You’re not special. Calm down, Nelson . 

Charlie was special though. 

And maybe single? 

And, according to Elle, likes pasta. 

Ooooohh, and we know he likes coffee. Pasta for dinner, and affogato for dessert? Commit to the Italian theme?

Nick snatched his phone from where he had dropped it off the coffee table, and opened Instagram. Nick had known better than to click on Charlie’s profile in the car with Sai sitting right next to him. Nick also knew that it was now late enough that he could absolutely not start scrolling through Charlie’s posts. He was exhausted, and the chance of embarrassing himself by accidentally liking a post from bloody 2018 was too high to risk. 

He needed to be cool, for Charlie’s sake more than anything. Nick may not have known the details of Charlie’s history with Ben, but his gut told him that Charlie might want to take things slow after everything that had gone down today. 

If Charlie did, in fact, want to take anything anywhere in the first place. 

Nick opened up a new message to send to Charlie.

Nick stared at the screen. Then he put the phone down. 

Picked it up. 

Put it down. 

Picked it up. 

Threw it face down on the coffee table. 

Nick lifted the sofa cushion and pressed it to his face with a muffled scream. 

It was almost midnight. This was not playing it cool.

Nick needed sleep. As he heaved himself off the sofa, he hissed curses at the pain in his knee and the soreness in his neck and shoulders. For a moment he considered taking one of the prescription painkillers he had left in his nightstand, but quickly dismissed the idea. They made him groggy even hours later, and Nick was determined to be in top form tomorrow. 

He would take some Brufen, spritz Biofreeze on his shoulders, elevate his knee to sleep, and be right as rain in the morning. 

🍂🍃🍂🍃🍂🍃

In an act of unprecedented self-control in the name of self-preservation, Charlie did not spend the rest of Tuesday night scrolling through Nick’s profile. The day had wrecked him, and Charlie did not have the capacity to feel even one more feeling. Utterly spent, he was asleep before his head hit the pillow. 

When his alarm went off at 4:45am on Wednesday morning, Charlie could already hear Elle’s sewing machine running- and, he realised with groggy glee, smell espresso. 

Charlie zombie-walked through the living room, curls wild, and stopped to give Elle a grateful kiss on the top of her head before careening towards the fresh moka pot waiting on the stove. After throwing back two espresso shots, hurling himself into the shower, and then tumbling into his clothes, Charlie finally flung himself out the door at 5:30am, granola bar in hand for his walk to the Tube. 

Ben ( don’t think about Ben ) had interrupted Charlie before he had been able to completely wrap his brain around the schedule for the day. He sat on the train pouring over his iPad, and despite repeating quiet assurances to himself that everything would work out, he felt his heart rate spike with anxiety. 

The day was going to be stressful, there was no way around it. Darcy was due in early to finish construction of the second ball pit set. The models that they had sent home yesterday, plus Nick, would be arriving at 9am to get fitted and into hair and makeup. Tara would work with each model as they were ready, and shooting on Set One would hopefully begin at 10am. 

At 1pm, that morning’s group of models would get a lunch break while the second group arrived and got sorted with Elle and Imogen. Finally, all thirty models would shoot in the ball pit. Tara was confident that they could set movement quite quickly, especially since it would be a series of group shots, but Charlie knew that even if everything went perfectly smoothly it was still going to be a challenge to finish by 5:30. 

He was most concerned for the wardrobe and makeup crews. Elle and Imogen had assured Charlie they could handle the long day, especially since they would have Thursday off while Darcy completed the third set. However, while he knew Elle and Imogen would make sure that their assistants got breaks, Charlie was determined to keep the two women from working straight through the day themselves. In Elle’s case, that would end up being something close to 14 hours.

Charlie was glad that his prepped lunch was a sandwich, an apple, and a bag of pita chips. All of those were foods he could eat while on the move. 

Despite his desire to get to the studio as soon as possible, Charlie exited the Tube early to cut through the park. It was irrational, but he could not help himself from scanning the park for Theo. He sincerely hoped that the boy was safe at one of the boarding houses Charlie had directed him to, and perhaps even on his way to being reunited with his aunt. Despite this, he still felt unaccountably anxious when Theo was nowhere to be seen. 

Charlie also knew it was irrational to be unsettled that it was not Katya behind the counter at the coffee shop that morning. He hadn’t released how dependent he had become on the routine of his commute back and forth to the area. Charlie mustered up a smile for the surly young man at the till, and then focused on breathing while he waited at the end of the bar for his coffee. When he reached down to pick up his quadruple latte, the ice rattled in the cup. His hands were shaking.

Fuck no. Absolutely not. 

On his walk between the cafe and the studio, Charlie counted five things he could see, four things he could hear, three things he could touch, two things he could smell, and one thing he could taste. 

Darcy and her crew were not due in until 7am, but the lights were already on when Charlie arrived at 6:45. Darcy was alone at her workstation by the ball pit, painting finishing touches on the fake cupcakes that Nick would be using as props for his shoot. 

“Good morning, Darcy.” Charlie was well aware that he was not exactly Darcy’s favourite. They had been like oil and water from the jumpoff. 

In his determination to make sure everything on Elle’s campaign went perfectly, he had initially been rather draconian in his role as producer. Charlie’s highly structured approach and reserved demeanour was completely at odds with Darcy’s impressive but chaotic creativity and unfiltered communication style. 

Despite his occasional frustration with her, Charlie knew that Darcy cared just as deeply about the campaign as he did. He attempted a smile as he greeted her, but her manic expression as she looked up from airbrushing plastic frosting wiped the smile right off his face.

“Nothing good about it, I’m afraid, Master Calendar.” She put down the airbrush and turned on a small table fan to speed the drying process. “Two of my crew just called out. They are a pair of idiot roommates who both gave themselves food poisoning with dodgy leftover takeaway.” Darcy gave Charlie a pointed look. “They were too scared to call you themselves.” 

Charlie winced. “Can you still get the ball pit sorted by 2 with the crew you have?”

“I think so, but I am more worried about tomorrow. If they’re still not fit to come in, we’re in trouble.”

“It’s too late for me to find anyone for today, but I will make sure you have the full crew for the final set build Darcy, I promise .” Charlie had no idea how he was going to be able to follow through on his promise, but Darcy needed to be able to focus on the day ahead without worrying about tomorrow. 

Darcy looked up at him, and softened when she saw the sincerity in his gaze. She cleared her throat and thrust her hands into the pockets of her dungarees (corduroy today). “Would you like a gummy bear, Master Calendar?” 

Charlie’s stomach churned. “I’m good, thank you Darcy.” 

She nodded, then turned back to her faux baked goods. Knees shaking, Charlie headed towards his “office” to finish getting prepped before the crew arrived, and figure out replacements for the two it sounded like they would be short tomorrow. 

Five things I can see: a mannequin, a tool chest, a dolly…

Charlie drew the partition on his office closed, and thought fleetingly of the diazepam he had deliberately left at home. It was his absolute last resort for averting an acute anxiety attack, both because the drug was potentially addictive and because it made him slow and sleepy. He needed to be completely alert to be able to manage the day to come. 

You can not fuck this up. 

Charlie stood shaking. Counting. Breathing. 

Please, not today. 

🍂🍃🍂🍃🍂🍃

One of the perks of living alone was that there was no one around to judge Nick for his choice of music for his alarm. If he wanted to wake up to Shake It Off , that was his business. 

That he had even managed to set an alarm was nothing short of a miracle. He had been so exhausted crawling into bed, several pillows under his left leg, that he had fallen asleep almost immediately despite his racing thoughts. 

Nick slowly opened his eyes and squinted at the bright sun peeking through his wood blinds. He was in the same position he had fallen asleep in, which was unusual. Nick had been told by more than one partner that he was a “big wiggly starfish” in bed. He was grateful that his sleeping body had some sense of self-preservation and kept his angry knee still through the night. 

Nick usually enjoyed upbeat affirmations from Tay Tay to start his day, but quickly reached over to silence the alarm. He had gotten seven solid hours of sleep, but he was struggling to summon the energy to get out of bed. 

Nick closed his eyes and considered the day before him. He was grateful to be such a short walk from the studio- perhaps he would leave a little early and swing by the coffee shop, get himself a tea… and Charlie a coffee? Would it be too much to DM Charlie and ask if he would like one? Nick wasn’t sure how Charlie took his coffee, other than Very Big. 

Would Charlie react to a coffee delivery from Nick the same way he had from Isaac?

Nick was feeling increasingly motivated to get up and out the door. In any case, he wanted to arrive at the studio early so he could stare down Ben. Make it clear that if he went anywhere near Charlie, Nick would break him in half.

Nick rose groggily, swung himself around to put his feet on the floor, and gasped. 

His left leg was on fire . 

Don’t panic. Take a double dose of Brufen, wrap your knee in ice till you have to leave. You just aggravated it when you hit the floor dodging Charlie’s drumsticks. It will be fine. 

Nick squinted as he hobbled to the kitchen and opened his freezer for one of the cold packs he kept on hand. Then he made his way to the loo.

Nick stopped in the doorway of his dark bathroom. 

Why had he come in here?

At a loss, Nick put the ice pack down on the vanity, grabbed his toothbrush, and applied some paste. He stepped up to the sink and reached for the switch by the mirror. As the vanity lights popped on, he instinctively closed his eyes. 

Perhaps he would get a coffee instead of a tea this morning. It seemed like he truly needed the extra energy boost. Come to think of it, did he still have some Nescafe in the pantry?

Nick spit into the bathroom sink, splashed some water on his face, and made his way back to the kitchen. When he walked past the refrigerator, he remembered his cold pack. 

Which he had left in the bathroom. 

He had brought the cold pack to the bathroom because that was where he kept his tape.

And then he had forgotten about the tape.

And then the cold pack.  

Oh no.

Nick slowly turned his head to look at the time on the digital clock built into his stove. He realised he was still squinting, and forced himself to open his eyes more fully. 

The numbers on the clock were blurry. 

Fuckity fucking fuckery. 

Coffee and ice pack abandoned, Nick turned and limped back towards the bedroom, and the medication in his nightstand. 

Please, he thought.

Please not today. 

🍂🍃🍂🍃🍂🍃

When Isaac laid eyes on Charlie at 7:10, it took him all of five seconds to make a dangerous but necessary call.

“Give me the coffee, Charlie.”

Charlie narrowed his eyes.

“You can pout all you like, but that… triple-shot latte, is it? It’s just going to make you more anxious.”

“It’s a quad.”

“Sweet Jesus.”

“It cost eight quid.”

“For fuck’s…” Isaac shook his head. “Fine, I propose a compromise: You’ve already had a third of it. Give it over, drink that entire bottle of water, and I will give the latte back to you at 10.” 

“... but…”

“Love, you know I’m right. Put it down.”

Charlie reluctantly relaxed his grip on the cup where it had been clutched to his chest, and mournfully set it down on his card table slash desk. 

“Would a hug help?” Isaac asked gently. 

Charlie sniffled. “I’ll start blubbing.”

“Shall we shake it out?”

Charlie’s curls bounced furiously as he nodded. “Fuck yes, please.”

The two men were thirty seconds into a rambunctious full-body shake, and did not notice Elle pop her head around the curtain partition.

“Charlie, have you seen- oooooh budge over.”

The three friends had finished their two minute shake-out and moved on to wild ape-arm swings when an exasperated sigh heralded the appearance of a beanie-covered head.

“Charlie, if you have a……. right.”

Tara was completely unphased when she pulled back the partition and discovered Tao, Elle, Isaac and Charlie furiously slapping each other’s arms, legs, and sides. 

Excluding the break that they had mutually agreed to never mention ever again, Tara had been with Darcy for almost fourteen years. Her tolerance for tomfoolery was, out of necessity, boundless.

“All good in here?” she asked, nonplussed.

The four swivelled their heads towards Tara and froze, looking for all the world like a caught-out conga line. 

“Yes!” Isaac said brightly. “Lymphatic drainage. Works a treat. Want in?”

“I’m good, ta. Just wanted to touch base about the schedule for today.”

“I was about to come find you,” said Charlie, relieved to feel much more grounded in his body than he had ten minutes ago. “I was coming to find all of you, actually. Is Imogen in yet?”

Elle nodded, and Charlie took a centering breath before smiling at Tara and each of his friends in turn. “Come on, let’s grab her and Darcy. Isaac, can you roll the whiteboard over to Darcy’s workstation? We’ll set up our War Room and go over the battle plan for the day.”

🍂🍃🍂🍃🍂🍃

By the time Nick reached the coffee shop ( what was this place even called? Was there a sign out front he had missed? ) the creeping ache behind Nick’s eyes and at the base of his neck had begun to recede. What’s more, his knee had calmed down. The soreness had lessened as the muscles had warmed up. It still hurt, but if he was very, very careful, his limp would not be noticeable to anyone but Tara. 

Nick walked up to the counter, and was relieved to see that Charlie’s protective barista friend was not working that morning. His bucket hat and sunglasses were dodgy as all get out. 

“One small iced chai, one large Americano, a small drip coffee, and a mineral water, please.” Nick took out his card to pay, frowning when the reader kept failing to work. 

“That’s your driving licence, mate,” said the exasperated cashier. 

“...so it is.” Nick stuttered out some sort of joke about the catch-22 of needing coffee in order to properly order coffee as he fumbled for his bank card. 

Get it together, Nelson. 

You can not fuck today up.

🍂🍃🍂🍃🍂🍃

“Nick is a delicious addition to the model lineup, but I wish we had his Rugby Arms today,” Isaac remarked with a huff to Darcy as they lifted a plexiglass panel. 

“I wouldn’t have let him lift anything today even if he was still on our crew,” muttered Darcy distractedly. She was focused on lining up the panel with its framing. “I feel like an arsehole for the amount we had him do yesterday. Tara gave me a bollocking when we got home last night, and she was quite right to. I keep forgetting that Nick needs to take things slow. Hand me that drill?”

Isaac passed over the power tool and held the plexi steady while Darcy secured it in place. “Is he recovering from something? An injury?” 

Darcy laughed sadly. “Yeah, you could say that. You would never know it to look at him, but Nick is held together with about as many screws as this wall.” She stepped back and blew her hair off her forehead with an emotion-laden exhale. “I really shouldn’t be talking about it. It’s his business.”

Darcy bit her lip, then dropped her voice to a low whisper. “If he insists on helping our crew out tomorrow, can you help me make sure our puppy takes care of himself? He’s a grown man, but when he gets excited all common sense flies out the bloody window.”

“Of course,” said Isaac quietly. “Is there anything in particular Nick should be avoiding?”

“He can carry things, which is an excellent turnup for us, but he shouldn’t be lifting anything above his shoulders. No deep bending or anything that puts stress or… what’s the word… torque on his knees.”

“Got it. Anything else?”

Darcy hesitated. “You seem like a guy who can keep things in confidence, yeah?”

“Absolutely.”

“If you ever notice that Nick seems especially… distracted …can you let me know? Or Tara?”

Isaac could not help a small smile. “You mean the way he gets distracted every time Charlie is around?”

Darcy rolled her eyes. “I know you two are friends, so he can’t be all that bad, but I truly do not understand why everyone is so obsessed with Charlie Spring!” Darcy bent down to retrieve a container of screw cap covers from her toolbag. 

“As much as I hate to admit it, yes, I do mean sort of like the way he gets dazed around Charlie.” Darcy poured out a fistfull of caps into Isaac’s hand before turning towards the opposite end of the completed wall. “I suppose it makes sense. A person would have to be a bit brain damaged to actually enjoy Charlie’s company- no offence, Isaac.”

Isaac watched Darcy walk away, and frowned.

🍂🍃🍂🍃🍂🍃

Nick stuffed his hat and sunglasses into his satchel outside Studio 8, steeling himself for the rush of sound that opening the door would bring. He took a sip of his water before jamming the bottle in his bag’s side pocket, picked up the cardboard tray containing his, Darcy’s, and Tara’s beverages, unclenched his jaw, and hit the entry button. 

Nick kept his eyes down as he made his way towards Darcy’s workstation. Last night he had been so excited at the thought of seeing Charlie, and had been plotting all kinds of excuses to spend time with him, but now Nick hoped fervently that Charlie would be too busy to bother with him. 

“Morning Nick!” Darcy called down from where she was working in the lift alongside Isaac. 

“Hiya Darce!” Nick called, wincing at the volume of his own voice. “Americano,” he mouthed, pointing to the cup as he deposited it on the table.

“My guy, you are the actual BEST,” Darcy beamed. Nick gave a small wave and headed over to makeup, chuckling at what sounded like an exasperated “caffeine-addled loons” from Isaac. 

Nick caught Tara’s eye where she was conferring with Elle and Tao by the drapery set. He smiled and lifted her chai into the air, then set it by Tao’s camera. Tara blew him a kiss as Elle greeted him with an, “Alright Nick?”

“Yes!” He called out. “Sorry I’m a few behind. I’ll head right over to makeup.” The trio nodded and waved as Nick walked on. While he was furious with himself for being late when he had fully intended to be early , at least it meant he had an excuse to hustle and avoid an extended chat. Tara would pick up that something was wrong the moment they started working on choreography, but he was determined not to worry her until he absolutely had to.  

“Morning Nick!” Imogen chirped as she looked up from where she was powdering a model’s face. She and her two assistants were working on four people simultaneously, moving back and forth from skincare to makeup to hair with practised efficiency. “Take a seat, I’ll be right with you.”

“Thanks Immy, sorry for being late.”

“All good! The look we want to run by you is gorg, but will actually be pretty simple to achieve. We’ve loads of time.”

Nick felt a wave of relief wash over him as he took a seat, not only because his delay had not seemed to have put anyone out, but because the (probably too large) dose of Brufen seemed to finally be taking full effect. He took a sip of his coffee and willed the pressure in his head to dissipate and his brain fog to clear. 

“We are going to have so much fun today,” Imogen exclaimed.  She stepped up behind him and rested her hands reassuringly on Nick’s shoulders. He smiled back at her in the mirror, heart dropping slightly as Imogen took in his face. She leaned down and spoke quietly into his ear. “You alright? Your eyes look quite red.”

“Allergies. Sorry.” 

“In October? How annoying for you! Not to worry, I’ve got some eye drops that will clear them right up.”

Nick exhaled silently as Imogen rummaged through her kit.

He could do this. 

It was going to be fine.  

🍂🍃🍂🍃🍂🍃

Tara nodded along as Elle and Tao discussed the order of events for the next three hours. Or perhaps they were arguing? She was only somewhat paying attention.

She was preoccupied with plotting ways to murder Nick.

But before she ended him, she needed to help him

Tara and Nick had been in each other's pockets for their entire childhood. Although it was a long time ago now, years of dancing together meant that Tara was still deeply attuned to Nick’s body, and vice versa. She might have been several yards away, but one glance at Nick’s posture this morning had immediately told her that her best friend was very much not okay.

Tara excused herself, leaving Elle and Tao to continue hashing out whatever it was they were so impassioned about, and headed for the loos at the back of the studio. The construction of the last set had made those facilities more difficult to access than the larger set of loos by the loading doors, and Tara was relieved to find the room full of stalls as she  had hoped- empty. 

She balanced her phone on the window ledge and recorded a video. Then, she recorded a voice note. After playing back both and nodding in satisfaction, she marched over to Makeup.

“Good morning lovelies- oh my goodness, you all look stunning! I’m so excited to work with each of you today,” Tara greeted the line of models and stylists before walking over to Imogen, who was chattering to Nick while applying tiny dots of gold across his cheeks. “Immy, can I borrow Nick?” Tara asked sweetly. “Two at the most.” 

Tara met Nick’s eyes in the mirror.

He knew he was in trouble. 

Good .

“Of course! Just let me set this. Nick, close your eyes for me.” After applying a generous dusting of setting spray over Nick’s face, Imogen unclipped his smock and whipped it off him with a flourish. “Fatima will sort your hair when you come back,” Imogen said as she sashayed over to the adjacent model. 

A firm hand settled on Nick’s arm, bangles gently tinkling. He gulped as Tara marched him out of the makeup booth and sequestered him in between sets of clothing racks. 

“Look at me.”

Nick obeyed.

“Tell me.”

“I fucked my knee.”

“Which one?”

“Left.”

“Shit.”

“I am 90% sure nothing re-tore.”

“90% is not 100%.” Tara folded her arms. “What else?”

“Shoulder. Also left.”

“Clavicle?”

“No, rotator cuff. I think from lifting that plexiglass yesterday.”

“Lifting it up over your head?”

“Yes.”

“The way you have been told, explicitly and repeatedly, not to?”

“...yes.”

“Anything else?”

“... brain stuff.”

“Oh Nicky.”

“I think I caught the migraine in time. I could get through the day if it was just my knee and shoulder, I can deal with pain-” he shrunk slightly when Tara placed her hands on her hips and glared at this, “but I can’t bloody think, Jonesy.”

“Stop. Breathe. You don’t have to think today.” Tara pulled out her phone, and Nick felt a buzz in his pocket. 

“I’ve recorded the choreo I planned for you. If you think looking at a screen will trigger a migraine, I’ve also talked through and counted the choreo out in the voicenote. You can listen to it while you are finishing up in makeup and wardrobe. I’ll make sure you shoot last so that you have time to process it. Maybe not all of it will stick, but a good chunk of it might.” Despite herself, Tara took her hands off her hips so that she could take both of Nick’s in hers. “We’ll figure it out as we go. I’ve got you.”

“I love you, Jonesy.”

“I love you, too. Please remember that when, after this is all over, I am bludgeoning you to death with fucking cupcakes.”

🍂🍃🍂🍃🍂🍃

“Rugby Lad seems like a prick, walking in fifteen minutes late in his daft-looking sunglasses.”

Charlie stopped in his tracks, his momentum as he had been whizzing about the studio almost causing him to faceplant. 

“He’s wicked fit, but yeah. I feel bad for Immy. She clearly fancies that pants off him, and he’s had his Airpods in and completely ignored her all morning!”

“I reckon he thinks he’s too good for all this. Like, is he actually even queer?”

“... I think that’s biphobic, Xavier.”

“It’s not biphobic if he’s not actually bi! Come off it, that is the straightest bloke I have ever seen.”

“Straight and a snob? Ick.”

Charlie had heard enough. He cleared his throat loudly as he stepped around the road case that had hidden him from view. 

“I think you’re wanted,” Charlie said. 

Xavier and Sophie did not dare ask where they were wanted. They just went . 

Toxic gossips , Charlie thought to himself as he took a sip from the latte Isaac had been forced to return to him. He was irritated on Nick’s behalf.

The thought of Nick set off a fresh spike of anxiety, and Charlie pictured himself furiously stomping it down with the sole of his platform Converse (green today, along with the deep green cashmere sweater he always wore when he needed to feel both comforted and powerful).

He had to put Nick out of his mind and focus on doing his bloody job. After some surprisingly collaborative strategizing with Charlie this morning. Darcy was making impressive headway despite her diminished crew. With that problem sorted, it was time to check in on Elle and Tao. 

Because the universe had once again chosen violence, Charlie arrived on Set One just as Tara was handing Nick his gold tray of delicious-looking, entirely fake blue, pink, and purple-frosted cupcakes. The prop baked goods were impressive, but Nick was his own work of art. 

Elle had created a number of knit and crochet pieces for her collection, and the cropped sleeveless cardigan she had made for James had been one of her favourites. She had taken the lavender vest and added a pair of cosy bishop-cut sleeves that were pushed partway up Nick’s sinewy forearms. As Charlie squinted, he thought that Elle might have replaced the original wood buttons with a variety of colourful fruit ones. The sweater was the focal point of the ensemble, with a pale pink t-shirt and practically white light-wash jeans offsetting it beautifully. Charlie could tell from Elle’s fiddling behind Nick (he was not at all jealous of her hands up the back of Nick’s sweater, that would be weird) that the shirt was too big and was pinned to fit more snugly, but on camera it would look tailor-made for him. 

Charlie had expected a fire fit from Elle, and had therefore appropriately braced himself for a sartorially devastating Nick Nelson. Unfortunately, Charlie had not taken Imogen’s contributions into account.

While James’ makeup and hair had verged on the theatrical, Imogen had taken a very different approach with Nick. His hair was artfully tousled instead of dramatically coifed, and beyond some subtle enhancement of his existing features, the only thing on Nick’s face was a smattering of tiny gold freckles added to the existing constellations across his nose and cheeks.

“You’re drooling.”

Charlie huffed at Tao when he stepped up alongside him. Both men watched Tara and Elle converse with Nick about cupcake choreography. “You told me last night that you may be straight, but you do have eyes. Look at him.” Charlie tried to keep the whine out of his voice. “Can you blame me?”

“I cannot. Elle and Imogen have outdone themselves.”

“Aw, thank you loves!” Imogen popped her butterfly clip-adorned head in between Charlie and Tao, placing her hands on a shoulder each. “I think he looks appropriately yummy, but I’m not sure how he feels about it.”

“What do you mean?” asked Charlie.

“He barely said a word this morning. I suppose I shouldn’t be all that surprised, he was initially so quiet yesterday. I just thought that he was starting to feel more comfortable.” Imogen hesitated.“I’m a bit worried about him. His eyes were all red when he got in this morning. He blamed allergies, but maybe he’s upset about something?”

The three watched Nick smile at Elle and Tara’s enthusiastic gestures, giving small nods at their instructions to him. Elle turned and waved towards Tao to indicate that they were ready to start shooting. 

“He’s looking a bit shiny. Tao, I’m going to touch him up quickly.” Tao nodded, and Imogen skipped away, makeup brushes already out and at the ready. 

Charlie shook himself out of his freckle-induced stupor. “The rest of the shoot go alright this morning?” he asked Tao dutifully, trying to keep his worry for Nick at bay. 

“It went really well. We found our groove yesterday and this morning went much smoother for it.” Tao paused. “Jessica had to duck out to take a phone call. Would you be up for operating the fan? All you have to do is point it where I tell you, and keep a close eye on our model.”

“... are you trying to kill me?”

Tao gave Charlie a vigorous and deeply ironic bro-pat on the back. “I’ll take that as a yes.” 

🍂🍃🍂🍃🍂🍃

Nick was beginning to think that he might, just might, get through this. 

Christ, he was going to owe Tara for the rest of his life. Her narration of the steps and movements that Nick would make through the drapery were counted out to the beat of, yes, Shake It Off .

“Here we go Nick. Players gonna bake, bake, bake, bake, bake, bake…”

Cake, cake, cake, cake, cake, cake. 

Step, step, step, step, step, step.

(Ouch ouch ouch ouch ouch ouch.)

His vision was still worryingly blurry, but Nick was fine with it. It kept him from being able to clearly see Charlie where he was stationed at the large fan a short distance away, making sure the drapes billowed according to Tao’s bellowed instructions. 

(Nick really wished Tao would not yell quite so much or so loudly .)

He hoped Charlie would appreciate his avoiding eye contact as proof of his focus, and not construe it as Nick ignoring him. 

“HOLD! Thank you Nick, that was great. We’ve marked it, now we are going to shoot it for real, with lights. RESET.”

Imogen instantly materialised in front of Nick, powder and blotting paper in hand. 

“You’re sweating quite a lot,” Imogen said as she touched up Nick’s face. “You doing alright?”

In his hazy peripheral vision, Nick caught what looked like a frown on Charlie’s face.

Do not worry him. He has enough on his plate. 

Nick gave Imogen his best meet-the-press smile. “Totally! Sweater is just a bit warm is all. Worth it though, I love it. I’m hoping Elle will let me buy it once the shoot is over.” 

“I bet she’d let you have it for free,” Tara said as she walked over and held out a water to Nick. He took it gratefully, chugging half the bottle in one go. 

“Even if she offered, I wouldn’t accept it for free. It’s a work of art!” Nick looked down and pointed with sincere glee towards the row of tiny fruit running down his tummy. “Look at these fucking buttons!” 

Nick felt himself blush slightly at Imogen and Tara’s peals of laughter, but what he did not feel as they walked away giggling was the expected pain in his skull at the noise. 

Realising that his symptoms were continuing to recede, Nick felt himself start to truly relax, enough that he ventured a look directly at Charlie. 

Nick’s vision was still blurry, but he would have had to have been blind not to see that all of the colour had drained from Charlie’s face. Nick followed Charlie’s gaze across the space, towards where the second group of models was beginning to arrive. 

Ben was back. 

“WE’RE BACK! Charlie, Taekwon, ready?”

Charlie and Taekwon both gave Tao a thumbs up, though Charlie’s seemed shaky. 

Nick wanted to march across the studio and pummel Ben with his (surprisingly heavy- he needed to make sure Tara never actually got ahold of it) cupcake tray. He knew, however, that the only person that would actually serve was himself. As soon as Tao took the still photos, Nick would find a moment to get Ben alone and use his words- not his fists- to make sure the arsehole stayed away from Charlie.

“Nick, you ready?” Tao called. 

“One hundred percent!” Nick replied. He reset himself, tray in hand, and hazarded a small smile in Charlie’s direction. He thought he saw Charlie’s dimples wink in return.

You’ve got this. 

“GO!” Tao yelled.

And then the first camera flash went off. 

Chapter Text

A large part of Charlie very much wanted to stay and watch Nick in action, but he was deeply relieved when Jessica returned just as Tao began taking the still photos. He quickly turned the operation of the fan over to her, and kept his head down as he headed to find Isaac.

Charlie had thought he would be able to keep it together, but just the sight of Ben, even across the room, had made him break out in a cold sweat. He still didn’t want to tell Elle or Tao that Ben had attacked him, but he was spiralling, again, and he had to talk to someone.

Charlie walked hesitantly up to Darcy where she was working on the ball pit set. She was engaged in a rare moment of quiet focus, adding hinges on an access door to the side of the pit for Felix’s wheelchair. 

“Darcy,” Charlie choked out, “have you seen Isaac?”

Darcy looked up in exasperation, “Charlie, I am not Henderson’s bloody keep…. Are you alright?”

Charlie could not answer. 

“My guy, you need to sit down.”

Charlie could not move.

“Breathe, buddy.”

Charlie tried to inhale, and failed. Before he knew what was happening, Darcy had her arm around his waist and was clumsily lowering him to sit cross-legged in the ball pit with her. She reached over the edge to grab two small, sparkling bottles of blowing bubbles. She opened one, then placed the open bottle in Charlie’s hand and the wand in his other. 

“Blow bubbles with me,” Darcy ordered. She lifted up her own wand and let out a slow, steady breath. Charlie watched the soap bubbles float upwards and then gently down.

He lifted his wand shakily, and blew.

“Nice! Again.” Darcy had Charlie match her pace, inhaling as she inserted the wand into the bottle, holding her breath as she lifted the wand in front of her face, and smoothly exhaling a stream of peacefully bobbing bubbles. No one could see them where they were cocooned, and Charlie felt himself gradually start to drop back into his body. 

“This… is a neat trick,” Charlie rasped, vaguely registering Darcy texting someone on her phone. “I’m going to have to invest in a stock of these.”

“We have plenty extra, you’re welcome to as many as you like, Master Calendar.”

Don’t you dare cry, Spring. “Thank you, Darcy.”

Darcy looked down and fiddled with her bubble bottle. “Tara is the one who taught me this trick. For when I get. Frustrated.” She tilted her chin back and sent a stream of bubbles straight up into the air, like an iridescent geyser. 

“Yooooou get frustrated?” Charlie teased.

Darcy started to snap back, but stopped herself. She closed her eyes and blew out a stuttering but steady flow of bubbles. Then she nodded, opened her eyes, and looked directly at Charlie.

“I think we both get frustrated,” she said simply. “I think we both care a whole fucking lot about this campaign, and get frustrated and stressed and scared. I get manic. You get controlling. Right arseholes, the pair of us.”

Darcy’s frankness stunned Charlie the rest of the way back into his body. Completely present and shaking only slightly now, he leaned forward. “You’re right, I can be a condescending dictatorial arse,” he admitted. “Not that it makes it better, but if it helps, I am that way with everyone, not just you.” He hesitated, then soldiered on. He was so tired of keeping his feelings bottled up. “It sort of seems like you are only an arsehole to me, though,” he said quietly. 

Darcy and Charlie locked eyes, navy and blue, and considered each other. Charlie jumped when Darcy suddenly threw herself backwards into the sea of plastic bubbles, leaving only her lime green Doc Martens visible. They flailed as Darcy kicked in frustration.

“You make me feel bloody inadequate!” Charlie flinched in confusion at the muffled scream.

“How? Why? What?!?”

“Because you’re so fucking competent and organized and actually know how to manage people and are QUALIFIED TO DO YOUR JOB and I have no fuckity fucking fuckall idea what I’m doing. I design STORE WINDOWS Charlie! Not fancy ones, either. Toy shops, gift shops, buggering bakeries. What am I even doing here??? I’m not a supervisor. I’m not a leader.” She sniffled. “I don’t have the skills or experience to do this.”

“I’m an accountant.”

Darcy’s boots stilled. “... what?”

“A failed accountant, actually. I quit. It was killing me slowly. I’ve always wanted to strike out on my own, work in a creative field, but never had the guts. Not like you, Darcy.” 

Darcy’s wiggling boots spurred Charlie on. “Elle thought I’d be good at producing because I am organised and have a knack for logistics, but I have exactly zero actual experience.”

“... what the fuck.” Darcy sat up in a spray of bubbles to stare open-mouthed at Charlie. He smiled sheepishly at her. 

“Everyone loves you, Darcy. They admire your vision and your kindness and how you approach everything with joy. And snacks. People might respect me, or are just plain scared of me, but they certainly don’t like me. I know what you all call me behind my back.”

Darcy looked devastated at this, and Charlie rushed to reassure her. “I deserve it, to be honest. I know I can be a bit… frigid. I’ve just been scared.”

Darcy scooched next to Charlie, their knees almost touching. “Me too, Master Calendar.”

“Truce, Mighty Menace?” Charlie held out a hand.

“Truce.” 

The two shook, and Darcy looked down at her grip on Charlie. “You feel pretty clammy, my guy.”

“Sorry.”

“No sorries! Lord, you are as bad as Nick.”

Charlie started at this, then leaned in conspiratorially. “Elle set up a Sorry Bank for me years ago. Every time I apologise ‘unnecessarily’,” Charlie gestured with air quotes, “I have to send £5 to the Revolut account.”

“FIVE POUNDS?”

“London-flation, am I right? But it works. Maybe you and Tara can set up a Sorry Bank for Nick.”

“Are we talking about Nick?” Isaac gracefully lowered his broad body into the pit to form a triangular huddle with Darcy and Charlie. He placed a hand on his friend’s knee. “Darcy texted. Everything alright?”

“... no.”

“I can go.” Darcy started to rise, but Charlie held out a hand to stop her.

“No. You should stay. This sort of involves Nick too.”

Charlie tucked his knees to his chest as Darcy and Isaac waited patiently.

“Something happened yesterday.. Isaac is the only one that knows this, um... there is some… history… between m-me and B-Ben Hope…”

🍂🍃🍂🍃🍂🍃

The only silver lining Nick could find in his current predicament was that there was no sign of either Charlie or Tara as he fell apart, piece by piece, with each camera flash.  

“Nick, I need you to do the movement exactly the way you did it for the video.” Tao called. He was making an uncharacteristic effort to hold back his frustration but was, unsurprisingly, unsuccessful. “Let’s reset and try one more time.”

They had already run the sequence twice. Nick walked carefully back to his starting position on the far side of the drapery. He could barely see. The ache in his head was creeping down his neck. His brain fog was making him clumsy, and his clumsiness meant that he was aggravating his knee. The worst part was the rising nausea. He swallowed hard, willing his guts to settle. 

“Tao, give Immy and I a minute to make some adjustments?”

“Elle, I thought you were on a break?” Tao folded his arms in concern. They had already had one disagreement - well, fight- that morning back at the flat after Charlie had left. Elle had never come to bed last night, and Tao was alarmed at the thought of her running for hours on no rest. After she had thrown a tiny, sleep-deprived strop about him “babying” her, a “grown woman who knows her own limits, Tao Xu,” Elle had promised she would take as good care of herself today and she was of everyone around her. 

She smiled brightly at him. “I was on a break, love! Had a sandwich and even a wee nap!” 

Tao narrowed his eyes suspiciously. He loved her so much, and he was very proud of her, but he was also worried. As he turned back to his camera, he idly wondered if Tara might have some words of wisdom for how to support a workaholic partner.  

Not that he would ever call Elle a workaholic out loud. He had some sense of self-preservation. 

While Tao was re-setting, Imogen and Elle approached Nick. He was standing with his back to them, hands on his hips, shoulders moving slowly up and down. When the two women stepped around him and saw his face, they gasped.

Nick looked awful. His hairline was soaked in sweat, and Elle could tell that the t-shirt he had on under his sweater was likewise drenched. His normally rosy complexion was ashen, and although his eyes were dry, they were both bloodshot.

“Nick, are you ill?” Elle whispered. He avoided her eyes while pasting on a sickening approximation of his usual lopsided smile. 

“I’m good.”

“ Nicholas, you are not,” Imogen countered. “Stop lying.”

“I’m-” Nick closed his eyes and swallowed hard. He kept his eyes closed and calmly said, “I am not at 100% right now. But we’re almost done with this session, and then I’ll have the meal break to sort myself out and be ready to go for the afternoon.” 

Nick knew he would not be ready to go in the afternoon. As soon as this last take was done, he’d find Tara where she had gone to touch base with the incoming group of models. He would have to swallow his pride and ask for her help calling an Uber to get home, and explain things to Elle, and Tao… and Charlie. 

“I don’t think-” Elle started, but she was interrupted by a loud yell from Tao.

“Jessica and Taekwon are all set! Ready to go?”

“Almost!” Nick called hoarsely, wincing at his own voice. He opened his eyes with a grimace that he quickly twisted into a smile, even though he knew Elle and Imogen were not buying it. 

Imogen bit her lip as she pulled the drops back out of her kit, and Elle picked up a hand towel to blot at Nick’s hairline before heading off to find him some water. “After this take, you’re going to sit down. Better yet, lie down, Nicholas,” Imogen hissed as she stood on her tiptoes to drop solution into Nick’s eyes.

Nick closed his eyes and hummed.

🍂🍃🍂🍃🍂🍃

“I’ll kill him.” 

“Darcy-” Charlie was touched, but also alarmed. 

“I can make it look like an accident.”

“I have no doubt you can, but that would be an awful lot of insurance paperwork for me.”

“Not if they can’t find Ben’s body,” said Isaac mildly. 

Charlie and Darcy shuddered. 

“Can we put a pin in the whole murder thing till the campaign is over? Yes, I would love to see Ben run over by the lift, but what I need right now is…” Charlie ducked his head in embarrassment. “I know it’s irrational, the studio is packed with people, B-Ben can’t do anything to me, there’s no reason for us to interact at all today, b-but I’m still… not afraid exactly but…” 

“I am going to be your shadow for the rest of the afternoon.” Isaac slid closer to Charlie and leaned comfortingly into his side. “You’re not alone.”

“Thank you.” Charlie dropped his head on Isaac’s shoulder for the briefest of cuddles before smiling at Darcy. “And thank you for agreeing to keep all this to yourself.”

“I will. But, for the record, I don’t like it, and I am willing to bet Nick doesn’t either.” Darcy and Isaac rose, then they each gave Charlie a hand to help him stand on unsteady feet. 

“You’re right, he doesn’t,” Charlie admitted. 

“The crew are all leaving for lunch,” said Isaac. “Nick must be done shooting by now. Shall we go check in while Darcy wraps up here?”

Charlie coughed. “Yes, Iet’s go check in with everyone.”

Isaac and Darcy exchanged knowing looks. “Sure, Charlie, with everyone.”

True to his word, Isaac walked directly beside Charlie, practically glued to his side, and his serene presence was doing wonders to steady him. However, Charlie‘s heart dropped as soon as the two turned the corner. Ben was walking towards them looking disdainfully smug. Charlie felt Isaac stiffen as they walked steadily past, eyes straight ahead. They tried to give Ben a wide berth, but Charlie still heard him when he spoke:

“You fucked up bigtime bringing Nelson on, Charles. He’s useless. It’s an embarrassment.”

Charlie and Isaac jumped at the sound of a metallic CLANG and a loud shout ahead of them. 

“NICK, what is your DEAL?” they heard Tao explode. 

Isaac and Charlie looked at each other in alarm. What was going on? 

They sped on and arrived on set in time to see Tao rip his beanie off his head in frustration and shout, “Are you even taking this seriously???” 

Nick had his eyes closed and his hands on his hips, still as a statue except for his visibly heaving chest. His gold tray was on the floor by his feet where he had dropped it. Two of the cupcakes had come unglued and rolled a short distance away. Charlie saw Nick’s nostrils flare. “Tao, can you please stop yelling ?” he breathed. 

“Can YOU please manage to carry some SODDING CUPCAKES across a room?” Tao seethed. 

Right, that was quite enough. Charlie stepped forward to intervene, but Elle beat him to it. 

“TAO XU! That was uncalled for!” Elle shouted as she stalked on set with a bottle of water. 

Tao gestured wildly with his beanie. “He’s RUINING your photos, Elle!” 

“I don’t CARE, that’s no way-”

“FOR THE LOVE OF GOD WILL YOU ALL SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Nick roared.

The whole room froze. 

The silence was thick and terrifying. 

Charlie had watched clips of Nick on the pitch last night, so on some level he understood that Nick had made a career in an incredibly aggressive sport, and had been good enough at it to be appointed Captain. Nevertheless, Charlie had not quite been able to picture the gentle ginger giant in the role of violently intimidating rugby player. 

Until now. 

Nick pressed his palms over his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, before turning and walking haltingly off set. 

Everyone stood stunned as they watched him go. 

What had just happened?

🍂🍃🍂🍃🍂🍃

Around the corner and out of sight, Nick ceased to put weight on his knee and limped towards the toilets at the back of the studio. He knew he would have to explain everything, but in that moment he had to get away. He was in pain, partly blinded, utterly humiliated, and incandescent with helpless rage at his body and at himself. 

Deep, deep in the back of his broken brain, a voice that sounded very much like his father whispered furiously. “ Secoue-toi! Porte tes couilles .”

Shut up shut up shut up. 

Nick needed to calm down somewhere quiet, dark, and with a toilet he could chuck up in. 

He shouldered the loo door open, and Ben turned where he was standing in front of the wall of mirrors, adjusting his serial-killer-perfect hair. 

Great.

Fan-fucking-tastic.  

🍂🍃🍂🍃🍂🍃

Charlie was not excellent at handling his own crises, but when it came to stepping up for others, he was unmatched. Recovering quickly, he put one hand on Tao’s upper arm and took Elle’s hand with the other.

Sensing the thick tension around him, Charlie’s voice was light as air. “I need you both to take a breath and calm down. Then I need you to explain what happened in the twenty minutes I left you numpties alone.” 

Elle and Tao exchanged a look, and with a small nod from Tao, Elle began to speak rapidly. “I think he might be ill, possibly a flu? He looked awful right before we started this last round of shots, but he insisted he wanted to keep going.”

“Not that it did any good. He wasn’t paying any attention, Elle! It’s like he didn’t care, or didn’t even want to be here, and after all of the work you put in-” Tao clamped his mouth shut when he felt Charlie squeeze his arm. 

“He has been off since he got in this morning,” Imogen interjected as she joined the huddle. “He said it was allergies.”

“Allergies? In October?” scoffed Tao. “That’s a load of bollocks.”

“I don’t understand why he would lie,” Imogen countered, wrapping her arms around herself. She seemed as unsettled by Nick’s outburst as Charlie secretly felt. Yet, for as unnerved as Nick had left him, Charlie’s primary feeling was worry. 

“Isaac, can you please find Tara? Or go get Darcy? They’re close with Nick, maybe they can help sort this out. I’m going to go find our runaway Rugby Lad.”

“Charlie, I think-” Isaac started, but his friend was already speed-walking away in the direction Nick had fled. 

Elle, Imogen, Tao, and Isaac watched Charlie go. “What do we do?” said Elle.

“We all need to split up and look for Tara and Darcy, now,” said Isaac. 

He hesitated, then added very, very quietly, “I don’t think it’s allergies. Or a flu.”

🍂🍃🍂🍃🍂🍃

When the door to the loos burst open to reveal Nick’s hulking frame in the threshold, Ben instinctively shrunk back in fear. However, he quickly relaxed when he saw that Nick was barely keeping himself upright. 

“You come to have another go at me then?” Ben sneered.  

“Stay away from Charlie, and I won’t have to,” Nick ground out. 

“Charlie? I want nothing to do with Charlie. That slut came on to m-”

Nick barely felt his knee scream as he flew across the room, grabbed Ben by the collar, and slammed him against a cubicle door. Ben’s smile fell from his face, his eyes widening as Nick lifted him up off the floor. 

“I saw and heard everything. You assaulted him.” 

“L-like you’re assaulting m-me now?” Ben spluttered. 

Nick stared blearily into Ben’s terrified eyes, and slowly released his grip. Ben slid partway down the door before recovering himself. “If we didn’t need your ugly face for the rest of this shoot, Hope, I’d have broken it by now.” 

“They need me now more than ever,” Ben countered in frantic fury. “I saw your performance out there, Nelson. Fucking pathetic. There’s no way they will be able to use any of those shots.”

Ben knew he had struck a nerve when Nick flinched at his words. He took in Nick’s sweaty face and red eyes, then burst out laughing in imagined realisation as he dodged out from underneath Nick’s looming figure. 

“Holy shit!!! Are you hung over, Rugby Lad???” Ben’s delighted cackle echoed loudly in the tiled bathroom, and it felt to Nick like being stabbed repeatedly in the skull. 

“Oh, this is just brilliant ! Haha! Charlie’s always been a fool, but I didn’t think even he was stupid enough to believe that a chav like you could be good for this campaign. Nice job cocking it all up, you piece of shite.”

Nick could not muster up a response. 

Ben walked triumphantly out, slamming the door behind him. 

🍂🍃🍂🍃🍂🍃

Charlie was doing his absolute best not to make assumptions or jump to conclusions as he gay-walked around the studio at lightning speed. He needed to find Nick while everyone was off either at lunch or in makeup and figure out what the fuck was going on.

Was Tao right? Was Nick getting cold feet? Charlie had been crystal clear with Nick that all he needed to do was say the word, and Charlie would let him off the hook with no questions asked. 

New thoughts hit Charlie with every hurried step as he worked his way to the back of the studio. Why was Nick acting like he didn’t want to be here? What had made him so angry, and quite frankly, scary ? Nick had seemed so sweetly enthusiastic last night. 

A voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like his mum whispered, But you don’t really know Nick, do you, Charlie?

“Looking for your golden boy?” 

Charlie whipped his head to the side, freezing when he saw Ben stalking along the back wall of the studio towards him. 

Should he yell for help? Run? Grab a piece of lumber and knock the prick out?

As Ben approached and Charlie saw the celebratory sneer on his face, he planted his feet and stood his ground. He was not going to let this smug arsehole know how scared he was. 

“You really fumbled the ball with that one, Charlie.” Ben paused in anticipation, then gave his vampiric coif a theatrical shake and sighed. “See what I did there? A sports metaphor? I thought it was quite clever.

Charlie stared at him stonily. Ben’s sneer turned irate. 

“Your idiot rugby lad clearly had too much to drink last night. His hung over arse is in the loo.”

… what?

“A city full of beautiful people, and Nick Rager Nelson is who you came up with to replace James?? Nice work, Charles.” Ben leaned in and crooned. “But then again, it’s no surprise you completely lost the plot, you’ve always been a needy, bumbling headcase. How Elle thought you would be able to handle producing, I have no idea.” 

Charlie did not react. Ben ground his teeth, lowered his voice, and whispered, “Do you fancy him, Charles? Is that why you convinced him to be here? Manipulated him, more likely? Did you think you had a chance with that meathead? That he would want anything to do with you? Are you still so bad at reading people? You know you’re not even good enough for that chav, right?” 

Charlie looked straight into Ben’s eyes. He did not flinch. 

“Pathetic,” Ben spat, turning on his heel and walking away. 

Charlie remained frozen in place. 

It did not make sense. 

Ben was lying. He had to be.

“Rugby Lad seems like a prick, walking in fifteen minutes late in his daft-looking sunglasses.”

“He barely said a word this morning… His eyes were all red…”

“Allergies? In October?”

“FOR THE LOVE OF GOD WILL YOU ALL SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

In his racing mind, Charlie watched Nick hop into a red convertible with his flashy friend and speed off into the night. 

Had Nick gone straight home, or had they gone out together? 

Charlie unfroze. He took one step. Then another. 

Are you still so bad at reading people?

Charlie sped up. 

Had he really been so wrong about Nick?

You don’t really know Nick, do you, Charlie?

When they had needed an immediate replacement for James, Charlie had not been ready. He should have been ready. He should have had contingency plans. A vetted list of alternates. 

Nice work, Charles.

He should have known better. Nick had been right there, like a miracle.

How Elle thought you would be able to handle producing, I have no idea.

There was no such thing as miracles. 

Did you think you had a chance with that meathead? That he would want anything to do with you? 

Nick had accepted his Follow request last night, but never sent a message…

You know you’re not even good enough for that chav, right?

… because he had been busy. 

Charlie threw open the door to the loos. The lights were all off, and Nick was hunched over a sink splashing water on his face. 

Ruining the makeup Immy had spent ages perfecting this morning. 

Nick turned his head blearily towards Charlie, squinting with red-clouded eyes. His lids fell shut.

“Charlie. I can’t. Talk right now.”

Charlie heard the sound of his own voice speaking. 

“Did you go out last night?”

Nick furrowed his brow in confusion. “...what?”

“Are you hung over right now? Is that what is happening?”

Nick swallowed and braced himself on the sink. “Did Ben tell you that? You said you were going to stay away from him.”

“We’re not talking about me right now.”

Nick heaved his head up, his expression angry, and hurt. “Charlie… do you honestly think I am such an… an idiot, that I would go get obliterated last night?”

“I don’t actually know you at all, Nicholas. Not really. And right now the evidence is pretty fucking damning.”

Charlie was cold fire. He was livid at Nick, but more than anything he was furious at himself for once again letting his attraction to a man cloud his judgement. 

He had convinced himself Nick was a good person. The same way he had convinced himself Ben was a good person. 

It’s no surprise you completely lost the plot, you’ve always been a needy, bumbling headcase.

Charlie did not know if he was screaming at Nick or himself when he exploded. “I can’t believe that you would do this to Elle, you SELFISH PRICK.” 

Somewhere in the avalanche of hurt and betrayal and self-hatred, a small part of Charlie watched Nick’s face go terrifyingly blank, and screamed at him to stop. But Charlie couldn’t stop. 

“She was up all night working to make sure everything fit perfectly for you, and Immy had to come up with a whole look for you on the fly this morning, and then you go and cock it all up, like I should have KNOWN an idiot rugby lad would.”

“Get out.”

Charlie spun to see Darcy in the doorway. 

“I’m not asking you again. Get out, Spring.”

Charlie sputtered, “Wh-”

And then a whimper behind them made Darcy and Charlie freeze. They whipped around to see Nick lurch into a cubicle and slide to the floor. Darcy shoved her way past Charlie and got down beside Nick hunched over the bowl. 

“Tara’s coming. She’s got your meds- good thing you gave us that extra key to your flat. Just breathe Nick. We’re going to get you out of here.”

“But… I don’t…” Nick rasped brokenly

“You did your best. This isn’t your fault.”

Charlie felt the adrenaline drain from his body as he stared where Darcy was practically holding Nick up. He was trying to make sense of things when Elle and Imogen came through the door.

Charlie and Elle looked at each other helplessly. Imogen crouched down with Darcy. “Tara took my car, she’s just parking outside now, Nick. We’ll drive you home.”

Nick shakily pushed back from the toilet, slowly sitting to lean against the cubicle wall. His face was completely devoid of expression. He looked like a mannequin. 

Charlie heard Darcy whisper, “Oh Nick, no.”

Charlie started to speak- and say what, he did not know- when Tara walked in holding Nick’s rucksack, Sai behind her with a cane. Nick lifted his head and saw them, but his expression did not change.

“I ran into Sai in the elevator,” said Tara, popping the top off a pill bottle and gently placing two tablets in Nick’s hand. He closed his eyes and swallowed them dry. Tara pulled a pair of sunglasses out of Nick’s bag and placed them on his face, while Sai bent to help him to his feet. 

He wrapped Nick’s left hand around the cane. “Time for a Nelson Hug,” Sai said cheerily, taking Nick’s right arm and wrapping it over his own shoulders, then placing an arm around Nick’s waist. “Come on mate, slow and steady.”

“Everyone’s either at lunch or in makeup,” Tara said quietly. Nick remained silent as Sai practically carried him out the door, Tara and Darcy close behind. 

Charlie finally found his voice, “What-”

Darcy turned slowly around, and Charlie’s sentence died in his throat at the look on her face. She turned to Elle. “I’m going to help get Nick settled, and then Tara and I will drive back. Don’t worry, we won’t set the” - she launched the last words out at Charlie like poison darts- “ schedule back.”

“Go, do what you need to,” said Elle. Darcy nodded, then spun on her heel and raced out the door. 

Imogen, Charlie, and Elle stood in silence. 

“What's wrong with him?” whispered Elle.

The three turned when they heard the door to the loo swing shut. Isaac sighed sadly.

“I think I might know.”

Chapter Text

2002

Nick is six, and he is having the BEST DAY EVER!

He was really sad the day before. His mum explained that his dad was away on business, but that even though she was not sure when he was coming back, Stéphane loved Nicky and David very much and would call when he could. 

David seems angry with mum, but Nick is just disappointed. He likes playing rugby with Papa and practising his French. He’s better at French than David, and he likes being better at something than his big brother. 

Nick wants to be as good at rugby as David and his older friends. Nick always begs to be allowed to join, promising David that this time he won’t be “such a girl,” that he won’t cry when he gets hurt… but Nick is six, and small for his age. The 10 year-olds are bigger and rougher, and Nick invariably ends up on the ground in tears. Mum gets cross with David, and David takes it out on Nick, and the cycle starts all over again. No matter how hard Nick tries, David is always unhappy with him. 

This morning their mum asks Nick if he would like to try something different while David is at the park playing with his friends. 

Sarah gets in the front of the car with Mrs. Jones, and Nick gets in the back with Tara Jones. She is his age, and really nice. She giggles at Nick’s two missing front teeth, and he smiles big to make her laugh again. He tells her that her hair braids are cool, and while she gives him a pleased grin she also complains that they took forever to do- two whole days. Nick’s mouth falls open. The two of them spend the rest of the car ride trying to count the number of braids on her head. 

Nick is at dance class. He is nervous because he is new, and wonders if maybe it's weird that he’s here because there are only two other boys and lots of girls. The two boys seem to be good friends, and Nick is too shy to go up to them and say hello. Tara tells him not to worry, that her friends are nice, and that it is Su Wei’s first day too. 

Nick is a little bit silly and spins too much and gets told off, but the teacher is smiling. 

During the car ride home at the end of the day, Nick asks his mum if Tara can come over and practise with him- she is so good, and he wants to be good too! 

“Of course, Nicky.” 

Tara and Nick high five. 

🍂🍃🍂🍃🍂🍃

2005

Nick is nine the first time he switches off.  

Sixteen years later, Darcy of all people finally convinces Nick to take advantage of the free, accessible, confidential therapy his professional rugby contract affords him, and it is only then that Nick learns the clinical term: dissociation.  

Nine year old Nick does not know that word, though. He was not even trying to turn off his feelings, it just happened.  

His parents are fighting again. Sarah is crying in the kitchen as Stéphane yells. There is the sound of a cup shattering, the front door slamming, and then deafening silence. 

Nick counts to thirty, then goes to the kitchen. He sees Sarah sitting at the table, sobbing quietly with a tea towel pressed to her face. A cup and saucer are in pieces on the floor around her. 

For a moment, Nick wants to cry too. He wants to scream and run out after his dad and throw every cup in the house at his stupid, mean head. Then he realises that his mum needs him, and suddenly, his feelings switch off. 

He steps outside of his body, and watches himself tiptoe carefully around the shattered ceramic and place his small arms around his mum. 

“Oh Nicky,” she says into his hair, ”I am so sorry you had to hear that.”

He picks up the pieces of teacup and saucer, pulls out and stands on a chair so he can reach the kettle where it rests at the back of the counter, and starts boiling water for tea. Tea fixes everything, mum always say so. 

“I’m fine mum,” says Nick. And he means it.

He feels nothing. 

🍂🍃🍂🍃🍂🍃

2008

Nick is twelve, and everyone is pleased with him. 

Mostly. 

Tara is sad because she thinks that the two of them will not see each other as often anymore. Nick promises up, down, and all around to make sure that does not happen. He assures her that they will make plans to meet up all the time, and he means it. Tara is the only person he can be himself around, other than his mum- and Nellie, who he absolutely counts as a person. 

He is so relieved when, realising that Nick is not abandoning her (impossible), Tara throws her arms around his neck and tells him how happy she is for him. 

In his most secret of hearts, Nick is also relieved to not have to deal with dance anymore. Tara keeps telling him that he is the best at it (after her), and that he is the best male dancer by far. On some level, Nick knows he is good… but he also knows he does not have the right build for dancing. He is one of five boys in the company now, and he does not look like any of them. Nick is still short for his age, and his singularly stocky frame is the target of constant jokes. 

He hears Tara when she says that there is no such thing as a “dancer body,” and that the other boys are just jealous of him… but if he is going to get called “Big Nick,” he would rather it happen on the rugby pitch where being big is a good thing. 

Nick goes from relieved to elated when his father actually shows up for their “weekly” Skype call for the first time in two months. Stéphane teases him that while dance might have been a good way to meet girls, his time will be much better spent focusing on rugby. Nick is nervous to be starting at a new school, but his worries are nothing compared to his excitement that his father is finally interested in his life, is pleased and maybe even proud of him.

The only person who is not happy that he will be attending St. John’s is David, but Nick had given up on any hope of making David happy a long time ago. He just has to survive David, fly under his radar at home. In two years David will leave for university, and Nick will finally be able to breathe. 

David may be a lost cause, but if Nick can just keep pleasing everyone else, everything will be fine, and no one else will leave him. 

🍂🍃🍂🍃🍂🍃

2009

Nick is thirteen, and he is SO EMBARRASSED.

He and Tara kiss at a party. Her friends and his friends had been egging them both on for weeks, insisting that it would be “proper romantic.” 

It is decidedly NOT. It is awkward and awful, and afterwards both of them stare at each other in horror before racing away in opposite directions. 

It takes them three days to meet up and talk about it. 

Nick feels terrible, and the second Tara sits down on the park bench next to him he launches into an anxious, breathless speech (that he had practised on Nellie three times that morning) that Tara is the most beautiful girl at Higgs, that all the boys at St Johns AND Truham think she is proper fit, and that Nick is lucky enough to also know how smart and talented and kind she is, but she is like his SISTER, and kissing her felt so WRONG, and he is so sorry-

He stops when Tara starts giggling and says she feels the same. Nick starts giggling too, and they laugh so hard that they both end up collapsed on the grass next to the bench, grateful that no one is around to see them acting like a pair of loons. 

After they catch their breath, Tara turns her head and looks at Nick. Nick looks back questioningly. 

“Nick?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m not the most beautiful girl at Higgs.”

“Yes you are.” 

“No, I’m not. The most beautiful girl at Higgs… her name is Darcy.”

“Nope. I don’t even know who she is, but you’re definitely prettier.”

“... she’s … I think she is the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”

Tara looks at Nick, and waits. 

“... yeah?”

Tara nods. Her voice shakes. 

“She heard that we’d kissed at the party, and after band practice she came over to ask me if it was true. She told me… she likes me. “

“... yeah?”

“I think… I think I like her back.” 

Nick sees Tara’s eyes fill with tears. He holds out a hand, and Tara takes it as the tears spill over. 

“Please don’t cry. Is it… scary? Liking a girl?”

Tara sniffles. “A little. Mostly I…” She smiles. “Mostly I just like her.”

Nick squeezes Tara’s hand. He feels weepy too, but this is not about him. He grins instead. “I think that’s brilliant.”

Tara rolls over and presses her face into Nick’s shoulder. His t-shirt feels a little damp, but he doesn’t mind. 

The friends are quiet. Eventually, Nick asks, “Does this mean you’re gay?”

Tara sniffs and turns her head to look up at Nick. “I don’t know. I don’t even know if I am going to tell Darcy I like her back. I don’t know if I’m brave enough. I just…  You’re my best friend, and… I just wanted you to know.”

“Thank you for telling me, Jonesy. I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like you couldn’t tell me.”

🍂🍃🍂🍃🍂🍃

2013

Nick is seventeen, and he is having a proper, full on, extremely gay crisis. 

The crisis comes in the form of a green-eyed, raven-haired boy named Owen.

He is fast on the rugby pitch and quick-witted off it. He is cheeky and charismatic, and when the testosterone amongst the lads boils over he is always the one who steps up to diffuse the tension with a joke and a smile. 

Over the past four years, Nick has learned to appear confident even if he does not always feel it. He has slowly discovered that most people find him charming and easy to talk to, that he has a surprising knack for being able to talk to just about anyone. 

Everyone except Owen. 

Nick finds himself growing hot every time Owen looks his way. Whenever Owen is close to him, he triple-guesses everything he wants to utter. He thinks it is because he admires Owen so much. He really wants Owen to like him- for Owen to want to be his friend. 

During training, Owen tackles Nick and lands right on top of him. Nick stares up at Owen’s mud-covered face, their noses almost touching, and Nick’s body is both frozen solid and completely on fire. Owen laughs and pushes himself up, holding out a hand to Nick. 

“Alright, Nelson?”

Nick nods. He ducks his head as he takes Owen’s hand. His ears feel hot, and he knows his face is red too. 

Nick is so confused. 

Still in his kit, he rushes home after practice and heads straight to the bathroom to scrub his skin raw under the hottest shower he can stand. He eventually changes into pyjamas, and socks, and a robe, and he thinks about putting a beanie on even though it is warm out. Nellie knows something is wrong, and jumps up into bed with Nick where he is cocooned in blankets. He pulls over his laptop, takes a shuddering breath, and opens a Google Search tab.

He Googles for half the night, and weeps into Nellie’s fur the rest. 

He likes Owen. In a romantic way, not in a friend way. 

He thinks of Owen’s body on top of his. 

He wants Owen.

He feels sick. 

In the weeks that follow, Nick makes sure to never look up or around when he is in the changing rooms. He does not think he is attracted to any of the other boys, only Owen, but he is not about to test that theory. He feels guilty and perverted and ashamed. After practice, he only showers in cold water, disgusted by his feelings and terrified that his body will betray him. 

One afternoon after a match, Nick is lacing his shoes and trying to block out the boisterous post-win banter. His teammates are delighted to have crushed the Truham team so completely, but Nick can not find it in him to be proud. St. John’s is a specialist sports school, and Nick knows they had looked like literal adult men out on the field compared to the boys on the other team. Nick feels bad for the Truham players, and vaguely embarrassed by the gloating around him. 

The lads are ribbing Owen, who had been the only St. John’s player to have been successfully tackled during the match. 

“That Harry bloke had the hots for you mate. He was on your arse the moment the whistle blew.”

“Whatya think Owen? He your type? He seemed pretty keen.”

“Owen’s mad for blondes- remember Charlotte?”

“And Marayam!”

“What was her name, Katie? Kathy? Cassie? She was blonde too.”

“Oi Owen, I bet we could convince your new Blond Boyfriend to transfer. You could get tackled on the daily.”

Owen laughs brightly. “Piss off, the lot of you. Truham can keep Homo Harry- no faggots on this team.”

“Aye aye, Captain!” 

Nick blinks down at his shoe laces, and switches off. 

🍂🍃🍂🍃🍂🍃

2018

Nick is twenty-two, and he has everything he thought he ever wanted.

He still loves playing rugby, but he also still does not have much in common with most of his teammates, and lately some of the players have begun to resent the media attention he has been receiving. Nick has played professionally for a few years now, but his move to the Badgers has given him more visibility. The press has declared him “one to watch,” and Nick knows there are scouts eying him for better teams. 

Nick gets along well with Christian and Otis, but it is Sai who quickly becomes Nick’s closest friend on the team. Sai is a recent transfer like Nick, and when Patrick calls Sai a “Paki pansy” during a tense practice match, Nick gets up in Patty’s face and quietly explains that A: Sai in Indian, B: Sai’s background is beside the point, because using an ethnicity as a slur is. Not. Fucking. On. And C: if Patrick is so concerned about the team’s performance on the pitch, he should start by worrying about his own bloody embarrassing ball work. 

Patrick apologises, Sai accepts, and he and Nick become good mates. 

They are both big readers, though Nick is much slower- he can tell that Sai sometimes gets frustrated waiting for Nick  to finish a book so they can talk about it. Nick eventually suggests that they switch to audiobooks so that they can listen during gym sessions. Christian and Otis sometimes join in their little book club (Christian is eventually forbidden from submitting titles for consideration, the other three agreeing that Upgrade was the final straw).

Nick and Sai do their fair share of partying with the lads, but they both sometimes beg off to secretly do something more low key- usually play Mario Kart or have a Marvel marathon. Sai really wants them to finally watch Loki, and Nick is running out of excuses to avoid the show and the inevitable bisexual panic. 

The boys have become close, and although Nick has not shared much about his father, Sai knows that the relationship is strained. When Stéphane emails Nick and says he is coming to watch their next match and hopes that Nick can meet him for dinner afterwards, Sai nonchalantly asks if he would like company. 

Nick arranges VIP passes for his father… and the two “potential business partners” he invites along. The three men spend most of dinner discussing real estate investments, largely ignoring Nick and Sai. Nick is embarrassed, because no matter how hard he tries to steer the conversation to English, the men quickly lapse back into French. The sympathetic looks Sai shoots Nick at dinner make him feel pathetic. He’s nine all over again, hoping that maybe this time he has finally done well enough for his father to pay attention to him. 

Sai drags Nick out for a pint afterwards. When their overflowing glasses are set down on the booth table, Sai leans forward and asks, “Nick, how are you doing? Truly ?”

Nick blinks. What is he supposed to say? 

That he misses his mum and his lesbian bffs and his dogs so much it brings him to tears almost daily? Does he admit that yes, he loves playing rugby, and rugby makes him feel like he has some actual value in the world, like he is wanted …. but that everything about rugby other than the rugby itself is awful ? 

Does he confess that the media attention he is receiving for his looks, rather than his playing, is degrading instead of flattering? That when the lads are vocally jealous of Nick’s supposed “heartthrob” status, it makes him feel vaguely ill?

While Nick was at St.John’s, he had not spent much time around teenage girls other than Tara and Darcy. The attention he had received during his brief stint at uni before he was professionally recruited had been a shock. Nick was only human, and at first it had been amazing . He enjoyed sex for the same reasons he enjoyed rugby- while it was happening he was completely in his body, completely present, and - after a few embarrassing first encounters- pretty good at it.

Nick’s playboy phase was short-lived. He slowly stopped chasing the high of being wanted, because as it turned out, sex was also like rugby in that people were only interested in him for his body and what it could do. 

During the day, Nick’s coaches and physios poke and prod and tape and tut. They praise him when he gets stronger, and encourage him to bulk up so that he can take hits better. They celebrate when he recovers from an injury enough to get back on the pitch and take yet more hits. Nick feels like a body, but never a person. 

At night, the women in bars who inspect him and run their fingers along his arms and squeeze his biceps make him feel the same. 

(…. and the few men he has very, very, very secretly messed around with have, if possible, left him feeling even more unseen despite how much they love to look.)

Does Nick tell Sai how scared he is by how often he finds himself switching off?

Sai might be the only person in Leeds that actually sees Nick as a person and not just a body, but Nick does want to worry his friend. Worry is too close to disappointment. 

Nick should be grateful. He has everything he ever wanted- everything he was supposed to want . 

“Tu es trop sensible, Nicholas!” 

Nick does want to worry his mum.

Or disappoint his father. 

Or Tara.

Or Darcy. 

Or his fans. 

Or his teammates. 

So Nick looks Sai square in the eye and says, “I’m great!”

He feels nothing. 

🍂🍃🍂🍃🍂🍃

2021

Nick is 25, and he feels everything . 

He had in no way been looking for the On switch, for the button that would pop the lid on everything he had been bottling up for years. 

He had muscled through the pandemic. He had held Sarah tight when the time finally came to say goodbye to sweet Nellie. He had white-knuckled his way through surgery and rehab for both his shoulder and knee. It was all a lot, but he had handled it- had watched himself handle it. 

Then Abigail breaks up with him. 

They have not been dating that long, but Nick is so excited about the possibility of them. Yes, she is beautiful, but she is also smart, and funny, and incredibly patient with his demanding season schedule. 

When she asks him about his day, or what he is thinking about, she seems like she actually wants to know . It takes him months to get used to. He is not practised at articulating what he is thinking, and he has even more trouble finding words for what he is feeling . On some level he knows this is because he rarely knows how he feels; Nick lives on one side of a wall, and his feelings live on the other. 

The first time they fight, Nick is terrified that it is the end of their relationship. Abby, though furious, gently takes his face in both of her hands and says, “Nick, we are disagreeing right now, but even though I am mad at you, I am also still mad about you. Okay? We’ll work it out. Now, let me go have a stomp around Waitrose and get some ice cream, and we can continue to hash this out when I get back and am a little calmer.”

When she returns with a carton of bubblegum ice cream alongside her favoured pecan, a part of the wall falls. 

Nick is closer to being his complete self with her than he has ever been with anyone. 

He finally feels safe. 

One night, they are snuggled on Abby’s worn IKEA sofa watching Pirates of the Caribbean , and she jokingly confides that she has always appreciated the eye candy in the film. Nick admits that he does too. 

Yes, Keira Knightly. 

But, also, Orlando Bloom.

Abby listens. She asks Nick why he has never said anything before, and he explains that he has never told anyone before (well, except Nellie). He tries not to, but he cries a little, and she hugs him and thanks him for being honest with her. 

He feels the rest of the wall fall, but the sky does not fall with it. He has told her everything, and despite his fears, she is not leaving him.

Except three days later, she is.

“The entire time we’ve dated, it has always felt like you’re only half here with me. Like you’re hiding something. Not just from me, but from everyone. I don’t care that you’re bisexual, that’s not what this is about. What guts me is that it took you eight months to tell me this incredibly fundamental thing about yourself. It makes me feel like, what else are you hiding , Nick? I don’t trust you anymore. I’m sorry.” 

The sky falls, and there are no walls to hold it up or even slow it down as it crashes into Nick. He does not remember calling Tara, but she and Darcy make it from their flat in London to his door in Leeds in less than four hours. He tries to make them tea, but they each take him by a trembling arm and make him sit down. 

He finally tells them everything. He can’t stop crying and apologising.

“Nick, my sweet baby bi disaster, what are you sorry for?” pleads Darcy as Tara, unable to find any tissues in the flat, hands Nick a wad of loo roll. 

“Everything. I don’t know. For everything.” 

They hold him as he cries. He does not stop for a long time. 

🍂🍃🍂🍃🍂🍃

December 31st, 2022

Nick is 26, and he is having THE BEST NIGHT EVER!

Tara and Darcy have taken him dancing for New Years- at a queer club! Even though cameraphones are not allowed in the venue, Nick is nervous. He is captain of the Badgers now,  a minor celebrity, and they need to come up with a disguise for him. His hair is his most distinctive feature, so Darcy helps him dye it brown, and his eyebrows for good measure, promising it will wash right out with one shampoo. Maybe two.

(It ends up taking five, but he does not care, it was worth it.)

Nick still loves to dance, and after two shots each, the three friends are losing their minds in the middle of the floor. Darcy always gets handsy when she is drunk, and Nick excuses himself to head to the bar and give the girls some space, if not privacy. 

He is chugging a sweaty glass of water when he hears a slightly accented voice beside him. “You seem thirsty. I can buy you another drink?”

Nick turns to see a man who (he has slowly figured out over the last year) is exactly his type. He has grey eyes and soft dark hair. His handsome face is flushed from dancing- or perhaps he is also a little tipsy. He is almost as tall as Nick, but slighter, with a septum piercing that has no business looking as sexy as it does. Despite the bold introduction, his smile is shy- Nick gets the impression that he is not all that practised at approaching men in clubs. 

It’s cute as hell.

“How about you buy me another water, and then I’ll buy us both drinks,” counters Nick.

Thirty minutes and two overly sweet cocktails later, Lukas and Nick are back on the dance floor courtesy of a very insistent Darcy. Not that Nick is complaining about being forced to dance with an incredibly fit boy from Berlin. If you can call what they are currently doing dancing . 

Whatever it is, it's hot and perfect. 

Nick knows this is not the start of a great romance. Lukas has shared that he will be returning to Germany on the 4th, but, in this moment, Nick embraces everything he is feeling- inside, and out, and pressed up against him. 

They are all having so much fun that the countdown to midnight takes them by surprise. 

FIVE!

“Nicholas?” Lukas murmurs in his ear.

FOUR!

“Yes.”

THREE!

“I can kiss you? Is okay, if no.”

TWO!

In his entire life, one has ever asked Nick if they could kiss him.

ONE!

“Yes.”

As the New Year begins, Nick is surrounded by cheers and queer joy and his best friends (who are quite honestly causing a scene with their New Years makeout, it was not decent) and he has a beautiful boy in his arms who seems just as delighted by Nick as Nick is by him.

Nick has never felt more himself. Not even on the rugby pitch. 

The world feels so big, and so full of possibility. 

This year, Nick promises himself, is going to be amazing. 

🍂🍃🍂🍃🍂🍃

February 2023

Nick is still 26. He only knows this because someone has told him.

The world has shrunk down to the size of a hospital bed. 

He has been in it for two weeks, but can only remember one. 

He had known going into the match that he was off his game.  His right knee had been a problem for years, along with his left shoulder. 

(Darcy had been disappointed to learn that despite the amount of plating on his collarbone and scapula, she could not, in fact, attach magnets to him.

“If I were any more magnetic, no one would be safe,” Nick had told her with a devious wiggle of his eyebrows.

“Oh ho ho ho! I like his new, confident Nicky. Hide your guys, gals, and non-binary pals, Leeds!!!”)

Now his left knee was giving him trouble, and he was in denial. Between the pandemic and endless injuries, Nick had been robbed of so much time. He refused to let a little ache sideline him yet again. 2023 was going to be his year, and his knee could fuck right off. Both of them. 

“Looks like it’s going to be miserable weather,” said Sai, looking up at the heavy cloud cover, his hair whipping about his forehead in the wind. The light drizzle promised to turn into a downpour. “My family did not do their research. Leave India, for this? At least monsoon season is warm .” 

Nick chuckled and gave his friend a few supportive pats on the back. “Come on mate, the sooner we start moving, the sooner we warm up.”

Nick had played in all kinds of weather: snow, sleet, rain, stifling heat (the last was the worst for Nick, a human furnace no matter the season). He knew how to adjust his stance and run on a slick pitch, he knew how to throw a ball in strong winds, and he could recognize when it was time to pack it in if it became impossible to play safely. 

Not all of the players had the experience or skill that Nick did.

Nick was in possession of the ball and speeding down the pitch. He dodged hard to the left to avoid a tackle, and felt his knee pop out of its socket. He lurched sideways. If the grass had been dry, Nick might have ended the day with nothing more serious than a dislocated knee, but it was not, and so that was not what happened. 

As Nick fell, the tackling player slipped on the grass and could not stop his momentum as his knee slammed into Nick’s head. The force of the blow spun Nick’s unconscious body around, and a slew of players fell on top of his twisted limbs in a ruck gone catastrophically wrong.

In Rochester, Sarah screamed at the television. Nick remained unresponsive as he was fitted with a cervical collar, strapped to a spine board, and carried off the pitch. After a hysterical call from her daughter, Tara’s mum speeded over to the Nelsons’, packed a bag for Sarah, dropped Henry off with her husband, and drove Sarah straight to Leeds.

There were a few terrible hours while Nick was unconscious when the swelling of Nick’s spine, neck, and brain had the doctors concerned about serious cervical damage.

Sarah heard the words “brain damage” and  “paralysis,” and would have broken down completely if it were not for Sai, Christian, and Otis. Sai insisted she stay at his flat since it was so close to the hospital. When Tara and Darcy arrived from London at 2am, Christian and Otis welcomed them into their flat. 

They waited for three days for Nick to wake up.

Nick will never be able to recall the first week after regaining consciousness, though the doctors tell him some. He had not been able to form sentences, and had apparently become “rather agitated.” Later, he tries to ask Tara about it, and she goes so pale that he never asks again. 

Sarah tells him that his father and brother had visited, but Nick does not remember. After he starts rehab, Nick gets a note and a Deliveroo gift card from his brother (that had clearly been written and posted by David’s girlfriend), and receives a large bank transfer from Stéphane. 

As the swelling goes down, the extent of Nick’s injuries become clearer. One slipped disc, but no permanent spine damage. He needs surgery to put his shoulder back together again, with additional work on his rotator cuff. His left knee is wrecked, and in all likelihood he will eventually need a full knee replacement. He has torn his left ACL and right MCL (again). He has two cracked ribs…

… and a broken brain. 

In one of the rare windows where Nick is able to hold a conversation without losing his train of thought, Sarah asks him what he wants to do after he is released from the rehabilitation clinic. She wants Nick to come home with her to Rochester. Sai wants Nick to move into his guest room. Nick’s medical team recommends that he see specialists in London. 

Sai has a flat in London. Tara and Darcy are in London. Compared to Leeds, London was practically in Kent. 

The Badgers give him the option of staying on in the hope that Nick will recover by next season. Nick chooses retirement. 

Sai, Christian and Otis pack up his flat. On the last day of May, Darcy and Tara arrive with the moving van. On the first day of June, Sai helps Nick into the back of his car so that he has room to stretch out his leg, climbs into the driver’s seat, and leads the caravan towards London. 

🍂🍃🍂🍃🍂🍃

Now

Nick is 27. He watches Sai help him out of his clothes and into bed, then place all of Elle’s garments in a neat pile on the dresser. Nick appreciates his care. The sweater really is brilliant. 

He hears himself tell his friends not to worry, and he brushes Sai off when he offers to stay. The medication they had retrieved for him - the same pills he avoided taking this morning- are kicking in, and will likely knock him out for several hours. 

Tara places bottles of water and Lucozade on the nightstand, Sai positions cold packs on Nick’s knee and shoulder, and Darcy pulls the ugly blackout drape over Nick’s prettier but less effective window blinds. 

He hears himself thank his friends as they tiptoe out, and then it is finally, finally dark and quiet. 

Nick’s head is empty. He floats, and watches himself fall asleep. 

He is not sure what time it is when he eventually wakes, but the packs are still cool so he surmises that it can not be too late. He tentatively lifts himself up and reaches for the Lucozade, taking small sips in case his stomach rebels. His head does not hurt as badly anymore, but his equilibrium feels fragile. He knows he has to move carefully. 

Nick hobbles to the window and peels back the blackout drape, squinting slightly in the gloom. Nick is grateful for the rain clouds that have darkened the evening sky as he grabs his cane. He smiles when he realises that Sai had brought him the customised Marvel one Otis gifted him after his surgery.

He lurches out of his bedroom and into his walk-in shower, and keeps his mind carefully blank while he sits on the bench and uses the detachable shower head to wash away the dried sweat clinging uncomfortably to his skin and hair. He pats himself dry, gingerly puts on his softest t-shirt and boxer briefs, and lowers himself onto his sofa with a water bottle and a fresh cold pack. 

“Alexa,” he rasps, “turn on the Evil Lair.”

Darcy had masterminded several migraine management measures in Nick’s flat, one of which was strategic indirect lighting. Alexa had been programmed with multiple settings; “Evil Lair” powered on the warm lamp on the side table next to Nick, along with the likewise gentle undercabinet lighting in the open plan kitchen. 

The only good bit of advice Stéphane has ever given Nick was to get a solid financial advisor after he turned professional. Nick’s investments have paid off, and he has never been a big spender. While Sai’s parents are footing the bill for his flat (not unreasonable since various family members make use of it while he is in Leeds) Nick can comfortably afford his Central London digs. He feels like shite, but he takes a moment to be grateful for his safe, comfortable home. 

Nick hears the patter of rain against his windows, and the sound is not jarring his head the way it would have just a few hours ago. He sinks back into the sofa and takes stock of his body. To say that he feels tired is the grossest of understatements- he feels completely wrung out. He does not, however, feel sleepy. 

Nick knows that he is going to have to process the events of the day at some point. When that happens, he is going to need tea. 

The rain comes down harder as he slowly makes his way to the kitchen. His favourite tea mug is at home in Kent, but his second favourite is waiting for him in the cupboard. 

He plops a teabag in his “Bisexuali-Tea” mug, and waits for the water to boil. 

His day… his week…  fuck, his life had not worked out the way Nick had hoped. If there was anything to be learned from today, it was that he needed to temper his expectations and hopes for the future. 

He had wanted too much. 

It had been greedy and foolish of him to chase after impossible things. 

Nick leans wearily against the counter and looks down at his cane from Otis, at his mug from Tara and Darcy, and at the absurd Iron Man kettle his mum had surprised him with right before he moved away for uni. He is too spent to cry, so he smiles. 

Nick might not deserve them, but in spite of everything, he has wonderful people in his life who truly love him. 

Nick jumps slightly when a loud clap of thunder sounds and snaps him out of his pity party. He switches the kettle off before it has a chance to let him know the water is ready with its shrill beeping. He cocks his head in confusion when the kettle starts to ding anyway, and it takes him a moment to figure out that the sound is not coming from the kettle. 

It’s the doorbell. 

Nick uses his cane to limp to the front door. No one had told him they were coming round later, at least that he can remember. Tara, Darcy, and Sai all have keys to his flat.  

Had one of them ordered dinner for him? 

Nick quickly runs the hand not gripping his cane through his damp, uncombed hair. He is glad he at least has a tshirt on, and briefly hopes the delivery person will not be too appalled by his lack of trousers. 

Nick opens the door.

…

…

…

”Nick…”

… Hallucinations have never been one of his PCS symptoms, but that is the only explanation that makes sense. 

Nick sees Charlie Spring standing, soaked and shaking, on his welcome mat. 

“... h-hi,” says the chimaera. 

“... Hi.”

Chapter Text

Charlie, Isaac, Elle, and Imogen sat huddled on the floor with their backs against the row of cubicle doors, staring down at Charlie’s phone screen with various expressions of horror, sadness, and sickening guilt. 

Charlie’s stalking session with Tao had largely been restricted to social media. He fervently wished he had taken a moment to Google news articles instead of drooling over posts that had been carefully curated by publicists.

CATASTROPHIC INJURY FOR RUGBY CAPTAIN…

… Nelson’s family has requested privacy at this time…

…Insiders tell Sky Sports that the fly-half may be permanently paralyzed…

…the 26 year old remains unconscious 48 hours after being admitted to Leeds General…

This footage may be upsetting for some viewers. Discretion is advised.

Isaac hit “PLAY,” and the match commentary echoed loudly off the cold bathroom tile. 

Charlie swore he could hear the crack of Nick’s skull as he was kicked in the head so hard his body spun completely around. They watched the hoard of players who had been chasing Nick down the field stumble and slip into an uncontrolled heap on top of him.  Imogen cried out as her hands flew to her face. Elle squeezed her eyes shut. Isaac breathed out an audible “oh fuck.” Charlie only just managed to keep from retching. 

They stared in silence as Nick was carried off the pitch. When the camera zoomed in on Nick’s face, Charlie finally had to put the phone down. 

“He’s okay now, though,” Imogen whispered. Charlie was not sure if she was reassuring him, the group, or herself. “We just saw him. He’s fine…” 

“He’s clearly not,” Isaac said sadly.  

Elle let out a frustrated groan at the ceiling. “I don’t understand. Why didn’t he say anything?”

Charlie was quiet. He’d accused Nick of being hung over, screamed at him, called him an idiot and a selfish prick… when the whole time, Nick had been so determined not to let them down - a group of people he had met yesterday - that he had pushed himself to the breaking point.

Charlie was overcome with cold rage at himself, at Ben, and at a universe that could be so cruel to Nick. 

He was also furious at Nick for being so needlessly cruel to himself. 

The four friends looked up from their silent introspection when the loo door swung open to reveal Tao. He peered down at his friends' heartbroken faces in confusion. “What’s happened?”

For a moment, Charlie wanted to direct all of his anger at Tao, who had treated Nick horribly. His face must have shown it, because he felt Elle quickly rest a pleading hand on his arm. Elle caught Charlie’s eyes with a beseeching look, and although she did not say a word, he heard her:

“It’s not his fault. We forget that he can’t read other people the way we can. He’s come so far, Charlie, and he’s not the only one of us who got the situation all wrong.”

Charlie gave Elle a reluctant nod of acknowledgement as he pushed himself to his feet, helping her up while Isaac gave Imogen a gentlemanly hand. Charlie fought to find his words, and felt a pang as he watched Tao take him in with anxious bewilderment. 

“Tao,” he finally said, “we’ve learned some things about Nick…”

🍂🍃🍂🍃🍂🍃

Incredibly, shooting resumed thirty minutes later- this time in Darcy’s wild and whimsical ball pit. Charlie watched from afar (largely to avoid throttling Ben with his bare hands) as Tara, Elle, and Imogen somehow radiated positive, creative competence while they worked with the twenty nine models on their various group shots. Tao was far quieter than he had been that morning, but retained his relentless focus. 

Charlie could already tell that the final images and video would not just be gorgeous, but joyful. It would be exactly what Elle had hoped for. 

What they had all hoped for. 

In the stress of the past few weeks, and especially the last twenty four hours, Charlie had lost sight of why they were all doing this in the first place.

And he wasn’t the only one. 

Charlie found Darcy at the back of the studio, her elbows resting on her relocated workstation. She clutched at her hair while she stared listlessly at the build plans. He tentatively approached the opposite side of the table, and her head shot up when he placed his hands on the worktop to steady himself.

Charlie swallowed. “Is he alright?”

Darcy regarded him with a flat countenance- a chilling departure from her usual animated demeanour. “You saw him. Did he look fucking alright to you?” Her voice was as expressionless as her face, but Charlie saw her chest heaving from the effort of holding back.

“No, he didn’t. I didn’t understand what was wrong. I still don’t, not completely. I am worried about him. We all are.”

“I thought you were worried about a selfish prick rugby idiot ruining your perfect plans,” Darcy seethed. 

“Darcy, I-”

“Shut UP. You listen to me, for once.” A sob fought to escape, but Darcy soldiered through it. “Nick is the m-most unselfish p-person in the world.” 

Charlie jumped when Darcy slapped her hands over her face and let out a muffled shriek of frustration. She angrily ran her fingers down her tear-stained cheeks as she continued. 

”With him, it’s always everyone else first, all of the time.” 

When Darcy looked up at Charlie, it felt eerily like looking into a mirror. 

“It’s MY fault he got dragged into all of this in the first place. He never says no, he always wants to help. He’s felt so useless since the accident. You don’t know Nick, but I do, and I should have known he’d push himself too far.”

Charlie looked- really looked - at Darcy’s teary, exhausted, worried face. He took in the pixie stick that had somehow remained safely tucked behind her left ear, the two empty energy drink cans on the table beside her, and the My Little Pony plasters on her fingers. 

“Darcy,” said Charlie gently. “Nick’s not the only one who has been pushing himself too far.”

It took Darcy a moment to process Charlie’s words before she bristled with defensiveness. “I’m not-”

“Not just you,” he said. “All of us.”

Darcy went quiet, and Charlie continued. 

“You’re right, I don’t know Nick. I assumed the worst with no reason to, and you have every right to be livid with me for jumping to conclusions and saying such awful things to him… but Darcy, it would be hypocritical of us to be upset with Nick for pushing too far and hiding the pain and stress he was under when we’ve all been here doing the exact same thing .”

Darcy looked down at her Doc Martens, her pastel shag falling over her face. She folded her arms and turned away from Charlie, slumping back against the table in defeat. Charlie walked around to lean carefully beside her and contemplate the expanse of scenery along the back wall of the studio. Darcy eventually raised her head to follow his gaze.

“Darcy, I was not there for your first design meetings with Elle, but every night she would come home and show me the sketches. I fell in love with them just as completely as Elle did. We’re all here because we believe in Elle’s vision, but a big part of that vision is yours too.”

Charlie’s mouth twitched as Darcy blew her fringe out of her face in dismissive embarrassment, almost as if she could blow away his words too. “I thought my job as producer was to give you everything you needed and wanted to realise that shared vision, but it’s not. My job was to listen to your vision and figure out how to set you up for success . I never said “no,” because I wanted to give you all the moon and the stars, and I let my fear of letting you down set us up for failure.”

Charlie waved a long arm towards the multi-story henge that was the third set. “Look at this Darcy. It’s magnificent, but, to borrow your phrase, what the actual fuckity fucking fuckery.” 

Darcy snorted, and Charlie went on with increasing energy. “Three sets built from scratch, thirty non-professional models who all need movement coaching, thirty custom props, eleventy million garments… we’ve absolutely bitten off more than we can chew.” 

Charlie pushed himself off the table and turned to stand and face Darcy. “We’re not struggling because we’re bad at what we do- you’re an amazing designer, as is Elle, as is Imogen. Tao is a fantastic DP. And you know what? I am, in fucking fact, a Master of Calendars,” Charlie declared. “it’s because none of us have launched an entire bloody fashion campaign before, and when things started to go wrong, we doubled down because- how’s this for irony- we were afraid to fail each other.”

Charlie realised his voice had climbed in volume as he spoke, and he grounded himself before saying, quietly and earnestly, “We promised each other we would make this a safe space, and we haven’t done that- either for each other or for ourselves.”

Darcy was quiet, and Charlie waited patiently for her to process. She avoided his eyes as she reached into her pocket, pulled out a Fruit Roll-Up, and gnawed at it while she thought. She eventually tilted her head up to look Charlie square in the eye. 

“What do you suggest we do about it, Master Calendar?”

“Well, Mighty Menace, I think we should decide that as a group, but- “ Charlie spotted Isaac walking towards them with what looked like two small coffees (likely decaf, he was sneaky like that). Charlie smiled gratefully as he waved him over.“- I do have some ideas I would like to run by you first, and Isaac too…”

🍂🍃🍂🍃🍂🍃

When it came time for the models to take a fifteen minute break at three o’clock, Darcy, Charlie, and Isaac pulled Elle, Tao, and Imogen aside. 

Although Darcy was determinedly collaborative while they brainstormed a new approach to the rest of the campaign, Charlie knew she had not completely forgiven him for being horrible to Nick. He had expected it, and braced himself for it. 

What he had not been ready for was Tara. 

If Charlie was Winter, Tara was NUCLEAR Winter .  

Darcy looked almost sorry for Charlie and Tao when, after she successfully coaxed her partner over to join the group huddle, Tara placed her hands on her hips and turned to each man with a look that made them feel precisely two inches tall. 

“The way you treated Nick was unforgivable,” she hissed. Each word felt like being stabbed with an icicle.  

Charlie silently agreed with her, but fervently hoped that he could find a way to deserve Nick’s forgiveness. He- and the rest of the group- flinched in anticipation when Tao opened his mouth to respond. 

“I was shitty to him, and I owe him one hell of an apology, but … “

Charlie and Elle exchanged a look. Oh no. 

“...I mean… like…”

Stop talking, Tao, Charlie thought desperately. Elle and I can not afford the flat without you.

“... why didn’t he just tell us he had access needs?” Tao finished. 

The group stared.

“Darcy built a gate into the pit for Felix’s wheelchair. We made sure Charlie had a mini-fridge on site. Charlie made sure that Diane had a place to pump. Everyone knew to avoid exposing Daniel to peanuts. All Nick needed to do was tell us what he needed, and we could have figured out a way to accommodate him,” Tao said tiredly. 

Tara let out a long, slow, icy exhale as she considered Tao. Her voice only shook slightly when she finally replied, “What Nick needs is for people to be patient with him while he figures out what he needs, and not jump to conclusions about him or dismiss him when he has an off day.”

Tao nodded. “Understood. What else?” 

“Why? He’s never coming back here,” said Tara vehemently. 

“Shouldn’t that be his decision?” Tao replied. 

Elle stepped in front of Tao, worried that her love was about to get his eyeballs clawed out. “Tara, we don’t know each other that well, and we only met Nick yesterday, but please believe me when I say that we care about him. Sod the campaign- the most important thing to all of us is that Nick is okay. We want to make things right and support him however he needs.”

As Tara visibly softened, Darcy stepped up behind her and wrapped her arms around her girlfriend. Charlie saw Tara slump back and tilt her head to listen to Darcy whisper in her ear. She placed her arms over Darcy’s and sighed.

“Nick was falling asleep when we left him at his flat. Sai lives just upstairs if Nick needs anything, and he’ll check in on him later this evening regardless, but the best thing for Nick right now is rest. Sometimes all he needs is a quick nap and a Cadbury Oreo to feel right as rain, but other times it can take a day or two for him to recover.”

Elle stepped forward to place her hands over Tara and Darcy’s entangled arms. “He should take all the time he needs, and not waste another second worrying about this shoot.”

“We just want him to feel better,” Imogen said quietly.

“And for him to know that when he’s better, we’d like the chance to apologise,” said Tao.

Tara looked down at Elle’s hands, and nodded. “Okay.”

“I never thought I would say this, but…” Darcy said as she gently released Tara. “Master Calendar has made the very good point that Nick is not the only person in this sad little circle that has been pushing themself to the breaking point over the past few days, weeks even.”

“Fucking finally,” Isaac muttered. 

Charlie arched a brow. “What was that?” 

Isaac contemplated the ceiling. “Nothing.”

Charlie let it go. His friend was right to be cross with him. He was starting to lose count of how many people he owed some sort of apology to. He looked around the circle at Elle’s tired eyes, Tao’s stretched-out beanie, Imogen’s sadly sagging pigtails, Darcy’s bandaged fingers, Tara’s tears, and Isaac’s endlessly patient but utterly exhausted smile. 

“The way we’ve been going about things is not working. Darcy, Isaac and I were talking, and we have some thoughts to run by the rest of you…”

🍂🍃🍂🍃🍂🍃

It was 5:45pm, and the studio was empty except for Charlie. Isaac had made sure of it, watching Ben depart and then waiting until the studio was completely clear before agreeing to leave Charlie safe behind locked doors. 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to wait for you?” Isaac had asked for the fifth time. “I’ve got my book, it’s no trouble. We can walk to the Tube together.”

Charlie had smiled at his wonderful friend. “I’m sure, love, thank you. I just need to finish up a few things here, shouldn’t take me more than thirty minutes.”

“Right, well, promise you’ll text or call if you need anything?”

“Only if you promise to get some sleep, Henderson.”

“I will.” The friends hugged goodbye, and then Charlie was alone.

Charlie sipped the last of his (yes, decaf) coffee as he walked across the dimly lit studio. He deliberately turned down the corridor of partitions and equipment that Ben had chased him through the previous night, refusing to break his stride as his heart rate spiked. Charlie stopped in front of the road case that Ben had trapped him against, and finally let himself really, truly think about what Ben had done, and what he had tried to do. 

What if, Charlie thought, Ben tries to hurt someone else, and there is no Nick Nelson to intervene?

He could not just pretend that the assault had never happened. No matter how much he minimised his own experience (a skill Charlie was self-aware enough to know he was masterful at) he could not ignore that Ben was an unabashed predator. Charlie would not be the last person he would try to…

Charlie needed to do something, and he would. He just needed to decide what, when, and how. 

He marched back towards his office with new determination. He gave silent thanks to his past self, who’d had the good sense to schedule a session with Geoff during what he knew would be a stressful and triggering week. They were meeting tomorrow morning, and thank fuck, because Charlie had a whole lot to talk about. 

He sat at his “desk” and ruthlessly reconciled paperwork. While physical timesheets made more work for Charlie, the small crew and short timeline of the campaign shoot made them the most logistically sensible option. Charlie made his way through the stack, and then came to the final sheet. 

It was Nick’s.

Elle, he suddenly remembered, had finally cornered Nick that morning and demanded he complete a sheet in front of her so that she could make sure they were paying him for his time. The form included his full name (Nicholas Luke Nelson), his mobile number, email, bank information… and his address. 

He lived nearby.

He was so close. 

“ABSOLUTELY NOT,” Charlie yelled. 

Yes, he was hollering at himself, out loud, alone in the studio, but it was called for. What on earth was wrong with him? 

As he powered down his laptop and straightened his desk, Charlie continued to give himself a firm talking to. 

“You can not just show up at Nick’s flat, what the fuck?” he muttered. “It does not matter how badly you want to see him, it does not matter how much you want to apologise, Tara made it clear that the man needs rest.”  

Charlie continued to quietly admonish himself as he fell into autopilot and began a lap around the studio. 

“He might not forgive you anyway. Probably shouldn’t for what a Grade A Arsehole you were to him. Even if he was willing to forgive you, and up for company, it’s definitely not you he would want to see right now-”

*Clink *

Charlie looked down at the sound of whatever it was he had accidentally kicked. It took him a moment to spot it up ahead where it had rolled away in the gloom. 

A cupcake. 

Charlie slowly knelt, intending to pick it up, but instead he found himself sitting cross-legged on the floor and staring down at the small, colourful prop held gently in his hands. 

It was chipped, but still lovely. 

“He doesn’t need you, idiot,” Charlie said to himself. “He’s got Tara, and Darcy, and Sai, and almost certainly a million other friends. You don’t even know each other.”

You don’t really know him, do you Charlie?

Did you think that he would want anything to do with you?

“Oh my God SHUT UP!” Charlie hollered.

He did not care that he probably looked and sounded as mad as a hatter, sitting on the floor alone in the dark and screaming at a sodding plastic cupcake.

The voices in his head- his mum’s, Ben’s, Self-Sabotaging Charlie’s- they could all fuck right off. 

There was only one voice that mattered.

“I’d like to stay and keep helping Darcy, if that’s alright? I haven’t got anything else on.”

“I don’t actually play for the Badgers anymore. I’m retired.”

“I need you to breathe with me. Can you do that? In for five, out for five.”

“You’re safe now, and I’ve got your back.”

“Would you like company on your way home?” 

“If I come back with a glass of what I believe might be Tesco’s finest chardonnay, will you stop throwing things at me?”

“I didn’t know you played the drums. That’s so cool.”

“I hope the drumming helps, but it also might be good to talk to someone?...Having someone to talk to who you don’t have to be afraid of disappointing, or burdening, or surprising… I think it’s so helpful.”

“I didn’t have a community outside of the Badgers.”

“Can I hug you?”

And finally, a warm voice in his ear, “I’m afraid you’re not getting rid of me that easily, Charlie Spring.”

Fuck it. 

Nick was not getting rid of him either. 

Charlie dropped the cupcake and ran for the door. 

🍂🍃🍂🍃🍂🍃

It would seem, thought Charlie as he stood dripping in the foyer of Nick’s building, that the universe continues to choose violence.

Charlie was fast, but he had not been able to outrun the deluge that had begun exactly thirty seconds after he had exited the studio complex. A sympathetic building tenant had let Charlie in behind her; after taking a few moments to catch his breath in the chilly entryway, Charlie took slow, squelching steps up one flight to Nick’s floor. A short walk down the hall later, Charlie stood soggily in front of Nick’s door. He shivered. 

This was a terrible idea. 

What if Nick was resting? Would the doorbell disturb him? Should he knock instead? 

Charlie closed his eyes, hit the bell button, and waited. Several moments passed. Charlie looked back down the hall at his wet footprints, and considered making a run for it when he heard the soft click of the lock.  

The door swung open. Charlie registered Nick’s navy boxer briefs and thin grey t-shirt, but his attraction to the sweet ginger hunk in front of him was nothing compared to the concern and regret he felt as he took all of Nick in. His damp hair was wild about his pale face, and his red-rimmed eyes were wide with surprise.

“Nick…” Charlie’s voice failed as he guiltily registered Nick’s cane. It had been so selfish of him to come here and make Nick answer the door when moving was clearly difficult and painful for him. 

Even though Charlie was scared witless that his unannounced arrival would be the nail in the coffin of any possible friendship with Nick, he felt both himself and his resolve steady as he looked into Nick’s eyes. 

“… Hi.”

“Hi,” Nick whispered. 

“I’m sorry for showing up out of the blue like this, I just…” 

I needed to see you.

“Did you forget a coat?”

Charlie blinked, then looked down at his soggy shoes in embarrassment. “I didn’t know it was going to rain.”

“...we live in England, Charlie.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I wanted to talk in pers-”

“Come in. Let’s get you a towel.”

Charlie stepped in after Nick as he turned and hobbled towards the bathroom. Charlie toed off his soaked Converse and tried his best not to create a puddle on the carpet as he took in the space around him.

The building Nick lived in was relatively new, and the flat likewise modern. The open plan kitchen was to Charlie’s left, and the living area on the right comfortably accommodated both the large sofa and six-person dining table. All of the curtains were drawn, but Charlie imagined that when open that the long bank of windows would make the space feel light and airy despite the low ceilings. As it was, the dim lighting and drawn drapes had turned the room into a cosy, safe cocoon. 

Nick emerged from the bathroom with an absurdly large towel over his arm, avoiding Charlie’s eyes as he limped across the floor. “Here- oh wow, you are really soaked through. A towel isn’t going to cut it. Hang on a tic, I’ve got things you can change into, we can put your clothes on the radiator.”

When Charlie saw Nick wince as he turned to head towards the bedroom, he burst out with, “I can get them, just tell me where they are? Please, please sit down, Nick?” 

Nick had his back turned, but Charlie saw him give a small, careful nod. He still did not look at Charlie as he slowly made his way around the sofa. “Bedroom’s through there. There’s a pair of yellow joggers and a blue jumper in the bottom drawer of the dresser that might do. Socks are in the top.”

Charlie nodded before realising Nick could not see him, then stuffed his wet socks into his shoes and wrapped the enormous towel around himself in an attempt to track as little water as possible through the flat. He felt Nick’s eyes on him as he walked around the far side of the sofa towards the bedroom door.  

Charlie did his best not to snoop as he strode over to the dresser, but he could not help but be charmed by the fairy lights strung up along the window by Nick’s rumpled king size bed. The whimsy extended to the lamp on top of the dresser, which Charlie flipped on so he could see better in the dark room. The lamp neck and shade were held aloft by an objectively hideous yet somehow also adorable ceramic border collie. Charlie held back a chuckle as he stooped down to slide open the bottom drawer.

“THE RIGHT BOTTOM DRAWER, NOT THE LEFT.” Nick bellowed hoarsely from the next room. 

Too late. 

“Got it!” Charlie choked out, quietly closing the left drawer while opening the right and quickly retrieving the mustard sweatpants and deep blue jumper. After selecting a thick pair of socks from Nick’s chaotic top drawer, Charlie stripped down to change. His briefs were damp, but borrowing a pair of pants would be a bridge too far. He doubted any of Nick’s would fit anyway. 

Charlie determinedly ceased thinking about Nick’s pants as he cinched the waist of the joggers as tight as it would go, poured the enormous jumper over his head, placed his clothes on top of the radiator underneath Nick’s bedroom window, and then literally and metaphorically pulled up his socks before walking back out to the living room.  

Nick had tucked himself into a corner of the sofa, resting his back against the arm with a pillow in his lap and his left leg extended out across the seat cushions. Charlie hesitated in the doorway, and when Nick looked up at him, Charlie could not decipher the expression on his face. The dim light of the room was playing tricks on him, because for a moment, Nick’s face had looked…

Charlie ducked his head and padded over, feeling ridiculous in the too-large clothes and with what he knew was disastrous hair. He considered sitting on the other end of the long sofa, but he was desperate to see Nick’s face clearly. Nick folded his arms more tightly over his pillow when Charlie sat on the coffee table directly across from him. 

Charlie found himself momentarily lost in Nick’s sad, uncertain eyes before looking down to awkwardly fuss with the too-long jumper sleeves falling over his hands. He took a deep breath, and forced himself to focus as he looked back up at Nick.

“Thank you for the clothes, and for letting me into your flat in the first place. You had every right to slam the door in my face. I know I should have left you in peace, but… Nick, I am so sorry for jumping to conclusions, and for all of the horrible things I said to you today. I was just so confused, and then Ben cornered me and got in my head. I got anxious and angry and paranoid, and took it out on you. You didn’t deserve any of it.”

Nick’s mouth twisted into a tragic parody of his usual lopsided smile. “If I were you, I’d have been confused too. What Ben said would have made some sense, especially because I was being so cagey.” Nick gave a small, one-shoulder shrug. “You don’t know me, after all.”

“I’d like to.” Charlie said before he could stop himself. Nick’s mouth twisted further as Charlie ploughed on. “I understand if you don’t want anything more to do with me after the complete mess I made of things today, but… I would really like to know you properly, Nick Nelson.”

Charlie held his breath. Nick’s face did something complicated and scrunchy. 

“Now I’m the one who’s confused,” he finally said. 

“Why?” Charlie asked quietly. Nick looked away. 

“I let you all down, and after Elle was so kind to me.”

“Nick, you didn’t let anyone down. What happened today wasn’t your fault.”

“It was, though. I knew I was a liability, but I wanted help- no, that’s not right, it was more selfish than that. I wanted to feel helpful, but instead my bloody buggering useless body and sodding broken brain cocked things up and made more work for everyone.” 

“Nope, sorry, but absolutely NOT.” Charlie slid off the coffee table and sat on the floor in front of the sofa, turning to face Nick and giving him no room to avoid his gaze as he locked eyes with the sweet, sad, infuriating man in front of him. “You listen to me, Nicholas Luke Nelson,” Charlie said as he leaned forward, resting his arm on the sofa beside Nick.

“If one of the requirements to participate in this campaign was having a convenient body, we would have no models or crew. Felix is in a wheelchair. Diane is breast-feeding and needs to pump regularly. Taekwon is diabetic. Fatima is hearing-impaired. There are so many people working on this campaign who have unique access needs. We could have worked something out, Nick.” 

Charlie started to reach out to touch Nick’s arm, but stopped himself. He looked down at the carpet and admitted, “I wish you’d said something, but… I understand why you did not want to tell us about your injuries. We’ve been just as bad as each other, with how afraid we’ve been of disappointing people.”

“I can’t imagine you ever being a disappointment.” 

Charlie looked up at Nick through his soggy curls and could not help a sardonic laugh. “My mum would disagree with you, I think.”

“How could she not be over the moon about you?” 

Charlie was momentarily stunned into silence. “It… sounds like you and I have very different mums.”

“My mum is amazing,” Nick said. “She’s the reason I chose to walk away from rugby completely. The team wanted to keep me, said they’d wait for me to recover, but…”

Nick hesitated. Charlie waited with nothing but kindness and curiosity in his eyes, and Nick found himself confessing what he had not shared with anyone, not even Tara.

“When I had my accident in February, it didn’t just wreck my body. If that was all it was, I’d probably still be pushing to get back on the pitch. I’ve come back from worse, excepting my knee. The problem isn’t my body, it’s my b-brain.” Nick turned his eyes up to the ceiling in an attempt to keep tears from escaping.

“After the accident, when I finally woke up, I didn’t recognize my mum. I had no idea who she was. I didn’t remember who I was, who Tara and Darcy were… it took me weeks to be able to put a sentence together, because I couldn’t find the words for things.”

Charlie scooched closer. “But you’re doing better now, yeah? You just put together a whole load of sentences.”

Nick chuckled wetly. “Overall, I’m better than I was seven months ago. Some days I’m fine. Other days, like today, I can’t think. I can’t remember what someone might have said to me two minutes ago, or I’ll think I’m speaking in English, but it’s actually French… and here’s the thing, I don’t know if it is ever going to get any better, Charlie. This might just be me now, for the rest of my life. If anything, it might get worse as I get older. My mum… she’s not even sixty, but she won’t be young forever. My brother is a useless prick, my dad isn’t in the picture. I need to be able to be there for her, to be able to take care of her. I can’t do that if I let rugby destroy what brain cells I have lef-” 

Nick’s voice cracked, and Charlie’s heart cracked with it. He climbed up to sit on the sofa beside Nick, placing his jumper-covered hands over each of Nick’s forearms. “Your mum is so lucky to have you. There’s no way to know what the future might look like, but I know this: The you you are now might be different than before, and some things might be harder, but you are enough Nick, just as you are. This you - your brain, your body, all of it- is imperfect and perfect and enough.”

Nick let out either a sob or a snort, Charlie could not tell which. “You don’t even know me.”

“Again- I would really like to.”

This time Charlie was sure it was a soft laugh that escaped Nick. “I have no bloody idea why. I’m a mess.”

“Excellent, that makes two of us.”

“You?” Nick was incredulous. “You, the mathematical and musical genius? Master of Calendars? Curl Model Charlie Spring, a mess? I think not.”

Charlie was about to dig into the “Curl Model” moniker when a shrill beeping made both men jump. 

“Sorry, the kettle, it automatically re-heats…” Nick paused, blushing along with Charlie as the two men realised how close their faces were. 

Nick was drowning in stormy ocean eyes. Charlie was melting into warm amber pools. 

“Would you, um… would you like some tea?” Nick breathed. 

“I’d love some. But I’ll make it, you stay put.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” 

A beat.

Charlie quietly cleared his throat as he finally leaned back, pulling his hands away to roll his jumper sleeves up. “How do you take it?” 

Another beat.

“Your TEA. How do you take your tea?”

“Two sugars. It’s all by the kettle. Cups are in the cupboard right above it.”

Charlie stood, and was quietly thrilled when Nick answered his small smile with a familiar, endearingly crooked one of his own. Charlie walked over to the kitchen, watching out of the corner of his eye as Nick pulled a throw blanket off the back of the sofa to drape over himself. 

Charlie was about to offer to bring over Nick’s duvet from the bedroom when he was distracted by the monstrosity facing him on the counter. 

“Nick?” he called. “What the actual fuck is this kettle?”

Nick’s giggle warmed Charlie’s heart enough to boil a thousand cups of tea.

Chapter Text

One boiled kettle and some gently relentless teasing later, Charlie carefully walked two steaming cups of chamomile tea back to the sofa. He paused awkwardly for a moment to debate where to sit. Should he take the far end of the sofa? He wanted to be closer to Nick, but would it be weird if he sat back on the floor?

Nick seemed to clock his dilemma, and gingerly shifted to sit up. Charlie set their teas down and wordlessly helped Nick pull the coffee table closer and plop a sofa cushion down on top of it so that he could elevate his left leg. While Nick was futzing with the cushion, Charlie swapped out his cold pack for a fresh one from the freezer. Charlie handed the pack over and then took a seat to Nick’s right. After reaching to retrieve their tea mugs, he crossed his legs and turned to sit facing the tousled-haired man. 

“Thank you,” said Nick shyly, looking down at his lap as he draped his throw blanket back over himself.

(Thank goodness, thought Charlie, who could only be expected to sit next to a trouserless Nick Nelson for so long without combusting).

“It was no trouble.”

The boys each blew on their tea, momentarily at a loss for words. It should have been awkward, but after a long emotional day, the silence was welcome, even comforting. 

Charlie ducked his head to hide a smile when Nick attempted a scalding sip and immediately scrunched his boyish face up in sheepish regret. Charlie contemplated his own mug, and his smile grew. 

“You have a theme going with the ceramic dogs.”

“Hmmm?” 

Charlie turned the face of his pup-shaped mug towards Nick and held it up alongside his own. “This little guy is so cute.”

Nick cocked his head and stared. “Yeah, he is.”

Charlie felt his face grow hot. 

From the tea. 

The hot, steamy TEA.  

“Tara’s mum Kenise gave the mug to my mum for Christmas one year, but she insisted I take it with me when I moved away for uni. It looks a little like Henry.” 

“Oh! The lamp in your bedroom looks like the other dog in your photos- Nellie?”

“Yeah, Darcy found it at a charity shop a few weeks after we had to put Nellie down. She thought it would make me smile, and it does, even if it is tacky as all get out. My last girlfriend gave me almost as much grief about that thing as you have about my fucking awesome kettle.”

“Your kettle has a face, Nick.”

“So does your mug!”

“Face of adorable dog.” Charlie gestured lovingly at his mug with one sweater paw, then pointed emphatically towards the kitchen. “Decapitated robot.”

“Ahem, I’ll have you know that Iron Man kettle was also a present from my mum.”

Nick giggled when Charlie gave an exaggerated wince. “No shade meant to your mum. Tea accoutrements, however hideous, are important. Is that from her as well?” 

Nick looked down to where Charlie was pointing at his Bisexuali-tea mug. “No. Um… She doesn’t know, actually.”

“Oh wow,” Charlie couldn’t help whispering, then gave a genuine wince. “Sorry, you seem so close, I assumed she knew.”

“We are close. I have wanted to come out to her for years.” 

Nick looked back up at Charlie. “For as much trouble as I have caused you all with the shoot-” his mouth quirked when Charlie shook his head as hard as he could without spilling his tea- “saying the words out loud yesterday, and chatting with Elle last night, I’m… I’m ready now.”

“Your mum sounds really wonderful, Nick. I am sure she loves you no matter what. And you have supportive friends- Tara, and Darcy, and Sai-”

“Sai doesn’t know.” 

“...oh.”

“It’s only Tara and Darcy that know, and my ex, and I didn’t tell any of them till I was 25.” Nick huffed a laugh into his tea. “Well, and now everyone who was in Studio 8 yesterday knows too, I guess.”

Charlie was dumbfounded. He himself was 25, and he could not imagine an entire life lived in the closet. He had been lonely as a teenager, but Nick’s life sounded so much lonelier. “How old were you, when you realised?” he asked quietly. 

“14, I think?” Nick’s smile went lopsided with embarrassment. “Orlando Bloom in Pirates of the Caribbean was definitely the beginning of the bisexual awakening, but I didn’t really understand it at the time, if that makes sense. I realised I was properly bisexual when I was 17. I’d been able to just shove my feelings down up to that point, but then there was a boy…” He chuckled as Charlie leaned forward, peering up at Nick through his eyelashes as he sipped his tea in theatrical anticipation. “He was really something. To quote you, ‘A knob, but a good-looking one.’” 

The boys exchanged sympathetic smiles. Nick could not contain his curiosity any longer.  

“Charlie, can I ask- ugh, feel free to tell me to fuck off if I’m overstepping- what’s the story with you and Ben Hope? You’re so… and he’s such a… I can’t imagine…”

“I was a first year uni student who couldn’t believe a fit third year would give me the time of day. I was lonely and vulnerable, and he took advantage.” Charlie sighed. “I can say that now with all the clarity in the world, but at the time I thought his coercive, controlling behaviour meant he cared about me.”

Nick’s face hardened. “When you were together, did he ever hurt you?” 

“No, not like that,” Charlie rushed to assure him. “Ben could be cruel, and he always knew exactly what words would cut deepest, but he was never physical with me. He understood “no,” even if he pouted about it.” Charlie’s gaze turned inwards. “I wonder if that is partly what his hangup is with me. We messed around, but we never took things as far as he wanted to.”

Nick’s grip on his mug tightened. “That is so twisted.”

“I know it is.” Charlie took in Nick’s furious, worried face. “You were right yesterday, Ben shouldn’t get away with what he did. I am sure I’m not the first person he’s forced himself on, but if there is any way to make sure I’m the last, then reporting him will be worth it.”

“I meant what I said, Charlie. I’ll go with you when you’re ready, as a witness- whatever you need.”  

Charlie was momentarily overwhelmed, and took a sip of his tea to get his feelings under control before replying. “Thank you, Nick. I’ll think about it. I just want to get through the rest of this shoot first.”

“Did everything go alright after I, erm, left?” 

“We missed having you, but the shooting went well, and the next few days should be even better. After today, we realised that we have all been pushing too hard. We talked, and we’ve all agreed we should scale back. It’s better to do less and do it well than keep trying to do too much and do it poorly- or worse, treat each other as poorly as we did today. Everyone is shattered, and Darcy is down two crew people.”

“I’m sorry, Charlie.”

Charlie’s dimples flashed with a wicked smile. “That will be five pounds.”

“Sorry?”

“Ten.” The dimples turned devious. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I told Darcy about the system Elle put in place to stop me from needlessly apologising, and she fully intends to set up a Sorry Bank for you too now. Five pounds in the Revolut account for every uncalled for Sorry.”

Nick sternly crossed his arms, and Charlie congratulated himself on doing a very respectable job of not staring at his freckled biceps. “Charlie Spring, you are a menace.”

“Only trying to help!’ Charlie replied brightly. 

“Mhmmmm.”

“Speaking of apologies though,” Charlie said, his smile dimming as his tone turned sincere. “In case you don’t speak with them tonight- Elle told Tara and Darcy to pass this along, and I quote: ‘Sod the campaign, we just want Nick to feel better.’ Tao would like the chance to apologise too, if you’ll let him.”

Nick’s eyebrows shot up. “That is very kind of Elle. She and Imogen tried to look out for me today, and I was too stubborn to let them.” Nick hesitated, and looked down at his mug. “Tao was…”

“An arse?” Charlie finished. 

“Sor- UGH. I just, I know he’s your friend, and Elle’s partner. He had every right to be fuming with me.”

Charlie fidgeted with the cuffs of his joggers. “I did not like Tao when I first met him. Rather hated him actually.”

Nick started at Charlie in surprise. “Really?”

“Oh yeah, I thought he was a rude, insensitive, pretentious prick and nowhere NEAR good enough for our queen Elle Argent. Isaac had to peel me off the ceiling after she told us she was falling for him.”

“You two seem to get on well now, though?”

“We do, he is one of my best friends. Family, practically.”

“What changed?”

“Eventually I realised that Tao… I am not sure how much I should say, actually.”

Nick suddenly remembered:

“You might have noticed that Tao is not the strongest communicator. He tries, but my Special Interest King has some trouble connecting with people in conversation. Socially, he can be a bit clueless…” 

Charlie bit his lip and considered Nick’s thoughtful face. “I want to be very clear, Tao has never been diagnosed with anything, but he would be the first to admit he has trouble reading people- facial expressions, tone of voice, that sort of thing. There are times even now when I find him frustrating, but…” Charlie hesitated, then shuffled slightly closer and whispered conspiratorially. “I’ve never told Elle this, so, not a word from you, agreed?”

Nick lifted his arm over the back of the sofa, leaning to give Charlie his full focus. “I am a vault,” he intoned. 

Charlie stifled a giggle and uncrossed his legs, tucking his knees to his chest as he leaned to mirror Nick.

“When Tao and Elle started dating,” Charlie whispered, his tone furtive despite he and Nick being the only ones in the room, “he would take photos of her all the time, to the point where it felt creepy as fuck. He’d do it when she wasn’t looking, too.” 

Charlie resisted the urge to smooth out the frown that appeared on Nick’s face. “Isaac and I finally confronted him about it, and do you know what he said?”

Nick rested his chin on his fist in exaggerated (but also sincere) anticipation.

“He explained that he was ‘trying to learn ' her. He was so scared of mucking things up that he was basically trying to decode and memorise as much of her body language as he could.” 

Nick’s mouth dropped open. “What!?!”

Charlie deepened his voice to mimic his friend’s. “Look here, Charlie, when she starts fidgeting with her earrings, it means she’s embarrassed- probably by me. Oh, and here, when she spins her pint glass like that, it means she’s tired and wants to leave.” 

“Oh my God, Tao!” 

“I know, right??? Isaac and I just about DIED.” Charlie sighed. “So, yes, Tao can be insufferable, and he was extra awful today because he has been so worried about this campaign and disappointing Elle. I am not making excuses for him, but I think it’s important to understand that his brain works a little bit differently, and that he really does mean well, even if he cocks things up sometimes.” 

Nick smiled sadly as he looked into Charlie’s earnest blue eyes. “I of all people can appreciate that.”

Charlie smiled back. “Me too,” he murmured. 

You?  Nick thought to himself. Your brain seems pretty perfect, Charlie Spring, just like the rest of you.  

“Charlie, I understand that you might not want to deal with me anymore, and I truly don’t know if I will be up for it, but I can still try to come in on Friday for the last shoot. I won’t be able to move as well, but-”

“Nick.” Charlie reached out both hands to rest on Nick’s right knee and gave it a frustrated but gentle shake. “How about this: You focus on resting tomorrow, and then let me know how you are feeling on Friday morning.”

“But-”

“Nope! Producer Charlie has spoken.” Charlie untucked his legs and took Nick’s empty mug out of his hands. “How are you feeling now?” he asked as he walked their cups over to the sink. 

“Fine.”

“Try again,” called Charlie as he rolled his sleeves up and turned the tap on, amused by the dramatically begrudging sigh behind him. 

“My head doesn’t hurt anymore. My knee has calmed down, and I don’t think I tore anything. I’m just knackered.”

“I’ll leave you be,” said Charlie, setting the mugs down on the counter to dry. He walked back to the sofa and hoped that neither his face or voice would give away how much he wanted to stay and learn everything there was to know about Nicholas Luke McBiceps Nelson. 

Nick did not make things easy and he locked warm eyes with Charlie’s. “Thank you for coming. I’m glad we talked.”

“Me too. Thank you for letting me in.” Charlie felt his resolve to leave wavering. “Do you need anything before I go?”

“No, I’m all set.” Nick paused. “Your clothes won’t be dry enough, not with how wet they were. You can just wear my things home. I can get them off you later.”

A beat.

“Get them BACK from you. Later. On Friday.”

Charlie nodded mutely, then hustled over to the bedroom to retrieve his keys and wallet from his soggy jeans pocket. 

“I can get them off you later,”  Charlie muttered as he gathered his things. “Is he trying to kill me?”

Charlie’s gay panic was not helped by the sight of Nick waiting for him by the front door. He had left his cane leaning by the sofa and wrapped himself up in his throw blanket like the world’s cuddliest superhero.

Both men were quiet as Charlie shoved his feet into his damp shoes, grateful for Nick’s thick, warm socks. Nick opened the door, and Charlie reluctantly walked through the threshold.  

“Thank you again for the clothes.” Charlie lifted his arms with a wry grin. “My fashion game will be the envy of the Elizabeth line.”

Nick looked down at him, considering. “I think it suits you. You look so cuddly like that.”

A beat. 

And then another.

Charlie heard Nick’s voice, though the man had not said a word. 

Can I hug you?

Charlie moved before he knew what he was doing, and suddenly found himself completely wrapped up in Nick- his cosy clothes, his soft blanket, and underneath it all a solid, warm, sleepy body that smelled like tea and sandalwood. 

“I’m glad you came, Charlie.” 

“Me too.”

Let go, Charlie thought to himself. Don’t make it weird. 

When they finally pulled apart, neither made any move to leave. Nick tore his eyes from Charlie’s with an awkward cough. 

Yup, made it weird. 

“Bye,” said Charlie. 

“Bye,” whispered Nick, and with a flash of dimples, Charlie headed down the hall and disappeared down the stairs. 

Nick watched him go, remaining rooted to the spot until he heard the front door of the building open and shut. He sighed, and felt a grin spread across his face despite himself. Would Charlie Spring ever stop surprising him?

He really hoped not.

“Ahem.”

Nick spun around as fast as his knee would allow, blanket twirling, to see Sai standing in the corridor holding a small stack of tupperware containers and wearing an unreadable smile. 

How much had he seen?

Nick fought back his panic. There had been nothing to see. Just two men hugging. Nick was a hugger, Sai knew this. No big deal. 

“Nick, how are you feeling mate? I brought samosas and some curry. Interested? Or did you and your friend already eat?”

Was Charlie his friend? The thought sent butterflies through Nick’s insides- his very empty insides. 

“No, we just had tea. I’m ravenous, actually. You’re amazing.”

“I know,” Sai grinned. “Come on, Super Nick.”

Sai insisted his friend sit at the table while he rounded up plates, utensils, waters, and a glass of milk for Nick. Despite insisting otherwise, his very white friend did not quite have the necessary tolerance for Verma levels of spice. 

Nick indeed chugged the entire glass after three samosas, and had a magnificent milk moustache when Sai snapped a photo. “Just sending Tara and Darcy a proof-of-life text, per request,” he said, tapping at his phone. 

Nick winced. “Sorry, I haven’t looked at my phone at all. I’d only just woken up when Charlie came round.”

“Needed another Nelson hug did he?” he asked, spooning curry into his mouth. “That was the same bloke from last night, yeah? I didn’t recognise him at first in your clothes.”

Nick coughed.“Yeah, I lent him some. He got soaked on the way over from the studio. Charlie is producing the fashion campaign that Darcy and Tara are working on.”

Sai gave a low whistle. “Producing? No idea what that means, but it sounds important. He looks a bit young?”

“I think he’s around our age, but he’s brilliant. Their team has had so many setbacks this week- they lost two set builders plus me today- and he just keeps handling it all. Nothing seems to phase him,” said Nick wonderingly.   

Sai emphatically set his spoon down and raised a dark eyebrow at his friend. “He can’t be that brilliant if he let you end up in the state you were this afternoon,” he said pointedly, rising to put the kettle on for tea. 

“He didn’t… it was… that was my fault. I didn’t want to admit anything was wrong.”

Sai leaned over the kitchen island, his mouth open in mock surprise. “You don’t say?”

“... and got stubborn…” Nick muttered. 

“Go on, pull the other one- YOU?” Sai flung his arms into the air. “Stubborn? I simply can NOT imagine.” 

Nick ducked his head, suitably chastised, but smiling all the same. “Thank you for coming to get me, Sai.”

“It was no trouble, mate,” Sai called over his shoulder as he fussed with the tea. “I don’t have anything on. My entire plan this bye week is to become one with my sofa, only rising for snacks, beverages, and to carry stubborn lads out of loos.”

While Sai prepared tea, Nick stacked their plates and utensils. He pushed the dishes to the far end of the dining table to make room for their cups of ginger tea. When Nick looked down at the mug Sai had placed in front of him, he froze. 

Charlie had washed their mugs, and left them on the counter. 

Nick swallowed, watching in his peripheral vision as Sai took off his steamed-up glasses to blow on the tea in his pug-faced mug. 

“Nick?”

He forced himself to look up at his friend. 

“Today seems like it has been complete shite.  I’m sorry you had a bad brain day… but if Charlie is anything to go by, it also seems like you’ve maybe got some new mates thanks to this modelling madness, and I’m chuffed for you.” 

Sai shifted in his seat and averted his gaze. “Nick, you’ve always been a private person, and I respect that. Lord knows Christian makes up for it with all his bloody over -oversharing- “

Nick chuckled along with Sai, who took a deep breath in before meeting Nick’s eyes. 

“... but for the record, if and when you are ready to… maybe… not to get all feely about it…  but … open up more? I’m here.” Sai folded his arms on the table and leaned forward. “Always have been, and what’s more you poor bastard, I always will be.”

Sai gave Nick a sincere smile and a cheeky wink as he reached over to clink his tea mug against Nick’s. Nick felt his mouth tremble as he attempted a smile back. Both men coughed to cover the moment. 

“You look shattered,” Sai said quietly as Nick sniffled into his tea. “ I’ll leave you be.”

Nick nodded, and the two men walked to his front door. When his friend opened it to leave, Nick burst out.

 “Sai…?”

Sai took one look at Nick and rolled his eyes with a (slightly wet) laugh. 

“Jesus Christ, fine, yes, get in,” he sighed, opening his arms in flamboyant exasperation. 

Knee be damned, Nick hugged Sai so hard his feet left the ground. 

“Alright alright mate, I love you too, put me down before I have to explain crushed ribs to Coach.”

Sai walked away, dramatically rubbing his sides as Nick laughed behind him before gently closing the door. 

Nelson Hugs were something else, Sai thought to himself. 

But he’d never seen Nick hug anyone the way he’d hugged Charlie. 

Sai paused on his ascent up the back stairs to his flat. 

An idea had occurred to him. An excellent, excellent idea.

Pulling his phone out of his pocket with an evil cackle, Sai took the stairs two at a time as he started to type. 

🍂🍃🍂🍃🍂🍃

Charlie tiptoed into the flat just after nine o'clock, moving as quickly and quietly as he could. He breathed a sigh of relief that the lights were off and that his friends’ bedroom door closed, meaning Tao and Elle had already gone to bed. 

As badly as he longed for his own bed, Charlie crept across the living room to the kitchen. He had gotten himself a snack on the way home, but had missed dinner. He was not going to let himself backslide. 

He stealthily made toast, manipulating the lever to muffle the pop-clang of the toaster, and quietly twisted open the lid on his peanut butter. He decided to forgo a plate in case it clattered, instead setting his toast on a napkin before spreading an even coat of peanut butter across the bread, all the way to the edges, and then cutting it into four perfect quarters. 

He shoved the first square in his mouth.

Fact 1: He was very attracted to Nick.

Charlie chewed. Sighed. Reached for another square.

Fact 2: He wasn’t just attracted to Nick. He liked Nick. Yes, he barely knew Nick, but even after two days, he was convinced that Nick was a genuinely wonderful person.

His stomach clenched, but Charlie made himself reach for the third square. 

Fact 3: Nick was objectively out of his league. He could have literally anyone. 

Charlie forced himself to swallow past the lump in his throat, and faced off with the final piece of toast. He stared, and stared… and smiled. 

Fact 4: Charlie’s desire to get to know Nick better, to be his friend, was stronger than his disappointment that their relationship would almost certainly never be anything beyond platonic. 

Charlie was so deep in his thoughts as he lifted the last piece of toast to his mouth that he nearly jumped out of his skin when he looked up and saw Tao and Elle standing silently in the doorway. 

“JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!”

His friends recoiled at his shrieking, bleary-eyed and wild-haired in their robes and blinking rapidly in the harsh light of the kitchen. 

“Did you just get in?” demanded Elle groggily. 

“You said you’d be home by half seven,” Tao complained, rubbing his eyes. 

“We texted!” yawned Elle.

“Is that what you’re having for dinner? Did you have real dinner?” Tao huffed, pulling his robe tighter around him. 

Charlie stuffed the toast square into his mouth to as he rose to his feet. “Thank you both for worrying,” he said, squeezing past them. “I’m all good. You can go back to bed.”

He had almost made it across the living room when he heard Tao mutter.

“What are you wearing?”

“Goodnight!” Charlie yelped frantically. 

And then-

“CHARLIE FRANCIS SPRING! WHY ARE YOU WEARING A BADGERS NUMBER 10 JUMPER?”

Chapter Text

When Nick cracked open his eyelids on Thursday morning, he could immediately tell that it was going to be a good brain day.

For most of his life, Nick had preferred to sleep on his stomach or side with one arm wrapped around a pillow (or ideally a partner, but he had come to accept that not everyone wanted to sleep with a six foot koala attached to them). The injury to his shoulder had forced him to start sleeping on his back, and even though he had somewhat adapted, he often found himself waking in the night. 

He was therefore startled when he picked up his phone and saw that it was not quite half past eight in the morning. He had slept for almost twelve hours straight. 

Nick went through the self-check ritual he had created for himself: He pulled up and read the top three headlines on BBC News before putting his phone down; he recited the names of ten animals, ten countries, and ten fruits; he picked his phone back up to complete that day’s Wordle; finally, he recited the headlines to himself before checking that he had remembered them correctly.

Smashed it. 

He slowly pulled himself up, noting soreness in his shoulder but no sharp pain, and trepidatiously pulled his right knee up towards his chest. His muscles were tight, but that was to be expected after putting his body weight on his right leg for days. 

Nick stared down at his extended left leg. His knee felt tight, but…

Nick inhaled, then gingerly bent his knee as he blew out a shaky exhale.

It hurt. 

…but not as much as it had yesterday. 

Nick sighed. Sai had gently but pointedly teased him for his lack of care for his body last night, and Nick was just as frustrated with himself as his friend was. He needed to do better. 

“The you you are now might be different than before, and some things might be harder, but you are enough Nick, just as you are. This you- your brain, your body, all of it- is imperfect and perfect and enough .”

Nick blinked. 

Had he dreamed it? Had Charlie actually been here? In his flat?

He turned his head towards the radiator underneath his bedroom window. There, carefully draped in an equally spaced line, were a dark pair of jeans, an inky green sweater, a long-sleeved thermal undershirt, and a pair of black socks. 

Nick flopped back onto his mattress, pulling a pillow to his chest in wonder as he recalled the events of last night. 

Elle was not angry with him. Sai almost definitely knew he was bisexual - probably had for awhile- and still loved him. Charlie had come over in the rain and made him tea . 

His head felt better. His shoulder felt better. His knee was still fucked, but less fucked. 

Charlie had hugged him goodbye. For, like, at least ten full seconds. 

“I would really like to know you properly, Nick Nelson.”

Nick squeezed his pillow tighter and grinned. It was going to be an excellent day. 

*KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK*

“Oi! Nelson! You awake? Got a surprise for you, mate!”

🍂🍃🍂🍃🍂🍃

When Tao woke up and rolled over to see Elle giggling quietly at TikToks of mischievous cats, he knew it was going to be a good day.  

He shuffled closer to rest his head on her shoulder, and she kissed his hair before disconnecting her earbuds. He chuckled into her shoulder at a kitten who had gotten stuck in a wellington. 

“Don’t laugh!” she admonished, poking him in his side. “The poor thing.” Tao tilted his face up to Elle’s, watching her melt at the video. He really did have to come up with a way for them to manage a cat. It would make her so happy. 

Perhaps they could block the entryway to the living room off so that the cat did not interfere with Elle’s workshop. They could keep the cat restricted to the hall and bedrooms. He made a mental note to snap some photos of the entryway for Darcy and ask for suggestions for how to close it off. She was clever about things like that.

The bed bounced slightly as Elle stifled a loud laugh. “Oh my goodness, it’s Charlie,” she whisper-squealed. The long-haired, light-eyed feline was staring up at her owner in righteous offence at a golden retriever sitting on top of her cat bed. Tao chuckled when Elle sent their flatmate the video link with the message: 

IT YOU. The lady doth protest too much, methinks. 

“It’s not even 8am, bit early to be giving our son grief,” mumbled Tao into Elle’s hair bonnet. 

“Hopefully he’s not even awake yet. The lad needs sleep.”

“Yeah, I bet being a sneaky sneak is tiring.”

“Right? I can’t wait to hear how he ended up at Nick’s- and in Nick’s clothes .”

Tao was quiet. “I think Charlie really likes him. Have you ever known him to do something so impulsive?”

Elle scooted down and turned on her side to face Tao. “No,” she said softly, “but I think it’s sort of wonderful. He gets so in his head, it’s exciting to see him follow his heart for once.” 

She smiled as Tao scrunched his face in mock disgust. “Don’t you even try to pretend you’re not a big squishy romantic, Tao Xu.” She shuffled closer and wrapped one arm around his waist. “I know all your secrets.” 

“Rude. I am unabashedly pro-romance. I just don’t want Charlie to end up hurt.”

Elle bit her lip coquettishly, and Tao felt distinctly more awake . “I feel like this breaks some sort of professional code of conduct, but when Nick and I were talking on Tuesday night…”

“Mhmmm?” breathed Tao, pulling Elle closer. 

“I am absolutely certain that Nick likes Charlie too.”

“Is that right?”

“Tao, are you paying any attention to what I am saying?”

“Absolutely.”

“What was I just saying about Nick Nelson?”

“Please stop talking about Nick Nelson.”

“Make me.”

“ Yes ma’a-”

* WWWHHRRRRRR *

Tao and Elle both froze. 

Charlie was running the blender. 

Charlie only used the blender when he was making a smoothie… and he only made smoothies when he could not manage solid food.

Shit.  

🍂🍃🍂🍃🍂🍃

When Tara woke to the dip of their mattress and the smell of coffee, she knew that it was going to be a good day. 

She lengthened her body in a long, pleased stretch before turning to where Darcy was propping up pillows along the headboard for both of them, two steaming cups on the nightstand beside her. 

“You are a goddess,” Tara said, looking up at her bed-headed love. 

“You are the goddess, that I live to serve,” Darcy replied grandly, handing Tara her cup as she sat up to rest her back against the nest of pillows. 

It took three sips for Tara to wake up enough to become suspicious. 

“Thank you for this, coffee in bed is lovely.” 

A beat.

“Out with it.” 

Darcy turned her body towards Tara, tucking her legs and leaning her shoulder on the headboard as she tilted her head consideringly. “Love, can we talk about yesterday?”

Tara narrowed her eyes. Darcy narrowed hers. Tara huffed. Darcy huffed. Tara tried and failed not to laugh. 

“Damn it, Darcy.” Tara took a fortifying gulp of her coffee. “What about the flustercluck that was yesterday do we need to talk about?”

“That was what I wanted to ask you,” Darcy replied, watching Tara grind her jaw in response. “What are you feeling right now, Jonesy?”

“Angry.”

“Say more.”

“I’m angry at Nick.”

“Me too.”

“Good. GOOD! I am so TIRED of watching him MARTYR himself for NO REASON.”

“Mhmmm.”

“And- AND- I am so BLOODY SICK of pompous bellends like CHARLIE SPRING and TAO XU making Nick feel CRAP when he already feels crap- even though he DESERVES to feel crap because what was Nick THINKING, Darcy??? The state he was in…”

Darcy nodded gently. 

“I should never have left him alone during shooting. I should have sent him packing as soon as I saw him hobble in. I should have ripped Tao a new arsehole, I should have…”

Tara put down her coffee mug when Darcy wordlessly handed her a pillow. She pressed it to her face and let out a strangled scream. Rage exorcised, Tara breathed in the soothing scent of her partner’s green apple shampoo, and slowly lowered the pillow to her lap as she exhaled. She turned towards Darcy’s sympathetic smile. 

“...  I guess I needed to talk about it.”

Darcy wrapped her arms around Tara, and the two were silent for a spell. 

“What am I thinking, Jonesy?” Darcy murmured. 

Tara groaned. “That I should stop blaming myself. That Nick is a grown man and I can’t protect him from everything, least of all himself. That all I can do is love him.” Tara slotted her fingers through Darcy’s. “And I am thinking that I love you very, very much, you menace.”

“I love you too.”

“Enough to help me hide two bodies?”

Tara felt Darcy hesitate, and sat up with mock dismay. “After everything we have been through together, you won’t commit to a wee bit of murder with me? I thought you loved me!” she gasped dramatically. 

Tara quickly went from amused to alarmed when Darcy responded with a tentative grin. Darcy was never tentative. 

“Promise you won’t chuck your coffee at me for what I am about to say?”

Tara arched an eyebrow and picked up her mug. 

“I think you are being a little hard on Master Cal… on Charlie, and Tao.”

Tara’s mouth dropped open. 

“Imogen told me how Tao treated Nick, and you are the one who heard what Charlie accused him of! They were horrible!”

“They had horrible but perhaps understandable reactions based on the information that they thought they had at the time and in the stress of the moment.”

“... who are you, and what have you done with my girlfriend?”

“Tara,” Darcy swallowed. “I think you might have to find a way to learn to like Charlie.”

“Why on earth would I want to do that? I thought you hated him!”

“I have gotten to know Charlie better over these past few days… and so has Nick…”

“... I know you think the look you are giving me is communicating something, but it is not.”

“Charlie likes Nick.”

“...”

“And Nick likes Charlie.”

“... what… he… no. NO! I won’t have it! That awful man has been making you miserable for WEEKS Darcy-”

“-I was making myself miserable, really-”

“-and Charlie made Nick feel awful-”

“-which he feels terrible about-”

“-HE SHOULD!-”

“- but as much as I have been determined to believe otherwise, Charlie is actually a good egg-”

“!!!”

“-and I would like you to give him a chance, please. Not just for my sake, but for Nick’s.”

Tara stared at Darcy for a few long, bewildered moments, then sat back against the pillows and brought her mug to her lips. 

“I am not making any promises,” she finally said, “but I will think about it.” She took a sip and muttered, “This might be an Irish coffee sort of morning.”

“I could make you one? You have the day off, and I would like nothing better than to leave you with a little feel-good buzz before I have to head to the studio.”

The women considered each other.

“Is that right?” Tara said lowly. 

* BUZZZZZZ *

Darcy turned towards her nightstand to see Nick’s grinning face lighting up her phone screen. She reached over to pick up the call. 

“Nick! We’ve been worried about you my guy, how are you feeling? Woah, slow down, what…”

Tara sat up in tense anticipation as a flurry of expressions flew across Darcy’s face. She was about to grab the phone out of her hands and switch it to speaker mode when Darcy leapt off the bed with a loud WHOOP! 

“FUCK YES, NICKALISCIOUS! This is the best news EVER!” 

Tara stood and tried to catch Darcy’s attention as she gleefully bounded around their bedroom pumping her fist in the air.

“Yes, yes, great, good, AAAAHH! Right, see you soon!” Darcy ended the call and spun Tara around in an exuberant embrace. Tara gripped her girlfriend’s shoulders and forced her to still and meet her gaze.

“Darcy what? WHAT?”

Darcy’s grin morphed from delighted to devious.  

“No time to explain! Gotta run! Unlessssss… you want to join me in the shower? For the sake of expediency .” Darcy dashed out through the bedroom door with a hot and bothered (and hot and bothered) Tara in close pursuit.

I have no idea what this menace has in store for us today , Tara thought as her chaos-loving love beckoned her into the bathroom, but it really does feel like it is going to be a good one. 

🍂🍃🍂🍃🍂🍃

When Charlie woke up in a shaking panic at 4,5, 6, and then finally 7am, he knew that it was going to be a bad brain day. 

Intellectually, he knew what was happening: the relentless compartmentalization that had gotten him through the past several months had finally become untenable. He was at capacity, and the thick walls of his neatly stacked mental boxes were finally cracking.

Charlie had left his accounting job five months ago, and although he knew it had been the right decision- the only decision, really, he was so badly burnt out- he was still deeply ashamed. While he was incredibly grateful to Elle and Tao, and knew they truly loved having him as a flatmate, Charlie still felt both pathetic at his own neediness and guilty for taking advantage of his friends. 

He would have helped Elle with her campaign regardless, but the weeks of furtive late nights he had spent putting together the impossible logistics (and even more impossible finances) of the L’Argent campaign had been Charlie’s secret attempt to balance the scales. He had tried so hard- done his literal best and then some- and still cocked it up. 

Then in the span of just the past days: his parents’ heartbreaking reaction to Ollie coming out, his hopeless crush on the sweetest man he had ever met, who he had been horrible to… and Ben.

Ben had barely touched him before Nick had intervened, and Charlie didn’t understand why he was suddenly so affected by what, all things considered, had ended up being a minor altercation. He had been upset right after it had happened, but he’d thought that the worst of his emotional upheaval over it had largely passed. 

Of course not, Charlie thought bitterly, lying under his covers quaking. He curled up on his side, and caught sight of Nick’s jumper where he had carefully placed it on a hanger dangling from the doorknob of his closet. It was so large that the bottom of it grazed the floor. 

His stomach clenched with the irrational thought that he needed to get Nick’s clothes out of his room as fast as possible, lest they become infected by the poison that was Charlie Spring.  

Charlie clutched at his hair in fury. Shut up, Bad Brain. Feelings are not facts. An actual fact is that you need to get your arse up and eat before your session with Geoff.

He padded to the kitchen in his softest flannel pyjamas and his largest jumper, opened the cupboard, and stared at the options in front of him. 

Oatmeal? More toast? 

He glanced at the refrigerator. Eggs? Some cheese and fruit?

He couldn’t do it. 

Calories are calories , he reminded himself as he pulled the blender out, even as another voice deep in his head screamed at him for failing at yet one more thing. 

His movements were automatic, even though it had been awhile since he’d been forced to drink a meal: Ice, a banana, two scoops of protein powder, greek yoghurt, milk, cocoa powder, honey, and two shots of espresso made in Elle’s moka pot. 

* WWWHHRRRRRR *

Unable to find a clean cup large enough to hold his smoothie, Charlie hit Start on their tiny dishwasher (that they had all forgotten to run yesterday) and poured the contents of the blender into Elle’s Disneyland Paris beer stein. He rifled through the junk drawer and found Tao’s small stash of bubble tea straws. He plunked one in his smoothie, wrapped a comforting arm around his rioting stomach, and took a defiant slurp. 

When he walked out of the kitchen in furious tears, Elle was waiting for him. 

“I’m sorry if I woke you,” he said, anxiously chewing his straw. 

“Charlie, are you alright? Did something happen at Nick’s yesterday?” Elle asked softly.

Charlie closed his eyes with a wet laugh. “No, nothing bad. I went over to apologise. He was so bloody lovely about everything. We had tea.” He sniffed and opened his eyes. “Why don’t you get sorted with a cuppa. I need to get this down before I meet with Geoff at 8,” he said, lifting the mug with a watery half smile. 

Elle nodded and headed to the kitchen as Charlie tucked himself into the corner of their small sofa and diligently sucked back breakfast. Tao emerged from the shower just as Elle sat down next to Charlie with two cups of tea. Tao took the other end of the sofa, and the three friends sipped quietly until Charlie had successfully emptied his mug and set it aside. 

“Bad brain day?” asked Tao. 

Charlie nodded.

“Charlie, you’ve been working longer and harder than anyone on our campaign. You sorted everything out so beautifully for us yesterday, there is no need for you to go into the studio at all this afternoon.” Elle placed a hand on the sofa cushion next Charlie, correctly intuiting that he didn’t want to be touched. “You more than deserve a day off. Rest. Maybe go for a run, accost some dogs in the park?”

“It’s not… I mean, I feel horribly responsible for everything that has gone awry, but we talked through all of that yesterday and I know we have a solid plan going forward,” Charlie said slowly. “I think my brain is just playing catchup on processing a whole bunch of shite from the last few weeks.”

“The last few days have been particularly batshit,” agreed Tao. 

“Yeah…” Charlie ducked his head and pulled his jumper sleeves over his hands, tucking them between his thighs. 

Elle slid off the sofa and onto the floor to be closer to Charlie, looking up at him just as Charlie had looked up at Nick last night. 

Tao shuffled over, crossing his legs and turning to give his friend his full attention- also just as Charlie had turned to Nick last night. 

In a burst of clarity, Charlie realised what he needed to do. 

“I need to tell you both something. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before.”

His friends waited patiently while he gathered himself. 

“It’s about Ben Hope.”

🍂🍃🍂🍃🍂🍃

Isaac set the last of his tea and The House in the Cerulean Sea down on the table by his oversized beanbag chair with a satisfied sigh. He had forced himself to leave the last two chapters for that morning, having been determined to get a full night’s rest. They had ended up being the perfect start to the day. 

Today, he thought, is going to be a good one. 

He was so proud of Charlie for taking charge yesterday and getting everyone to pull their heads out of their arses- Charlie himself included. His friend had come so far since their university days, and Isaac was not sure that Charlie gave himself enough credit for the enormous growth of his early twenties. 

Although 18-year old Charlie had described himself as another solitary introvert, Isaac had quickly realised that he and his uni roommate were very different creatures. Both boys were perceptive, with higher than average emotional intelligence, but Isaac was not armed with the double-edged sword that was Charlie’s extreme empathy.

Isaac certainly cared deeply about his small circle of friends, but he generally found people draining and had learned to maintain an objective emotional distance in most situations. Charlie, meanwhile, was the opposite. His frigid exterior was in fact the thinnest sheet of ice, constantly threatening to crack and melt from the warmth of his care and concern for literally everyone around him. The more Isaac had learned about Charlie and the trauma and loneliness of his teenage years, the more astounded he had been by his friend’s secretly bottomless capacity for kindness. 

One night during their first year, someone on their floor had been generous with their weed, and Isaac and Charlie had shut themselves in their room, opened their window, tied a takeaway bag around their smoke detector, and gotten high for the first time. 

They had talked long into the night. Charlie’s kind, curious questions encouraged Isaac to open up more about his asexuality, and the resulting social isolation that he had both welcomed and resented. He had admitted his frustrations with his barely literate parents, who were confounded by their son’s academic pursuits. He had even quietly confessed his exasperation with his thus far uninspired writing. 

When Isaac turned the conversation around to Charlie, he asked him how he was faring at his tentative forays into dating. His friend gave him a high, dopey grin. 

“Oooooh, it’s completely shite,” Charlie giggled. “Honestly the most exciting man in my life has been the new therapist. I was so scared to switch, but now I regret not giving Kathy the boot sooner.” Charlie clumsily waved a dismissive arm. “No no, that is not fair. She’s not a bad therapist, per se, but it turns out we were a poor match and I just didn’t realise it.” 

“Geoff is different?”

“My god yes!” Charlie handed the last of their smoke to Isaac before flopping on his back where they were huddled on the floor by the window. “He’s helping me figure out so much. Like…” Charlie went quiet, and Isaac knew his roommate well enough by this point to realise he was gathering both his thoughts and his nerve- a more intense feat than usual, given how baked they both were. Isaac lay down next to his friend, hoping to be a comforting presence while Charlie found his words.

“So, Kathy and I spent a lot of time talking about how because of everything that happened- the bullying, not having real friends, my mum’s love feeling conditional, all that rubbish- I’ve developed this core belief that I’m not likeable or loveable, and that it is stopping me from pursuing healthy friendships and relationships.” Charlie poked Isaac in his cheek. “Present company excepted of course.”

“I’m not sure the roommate who enthusiastically helped get us both stoned out of our minds is the healthiest choice of friends,” Isaac chuckled as he poked Charlie back in his dimples. 

“Get off!” Charlie swatted ineffectually at Isaac, his arm eventually flopping to the floor as he focused on returning to his train of thought. “What was I saying?”

“A load of bollocks about thinking you’re unlovable.”

“Right! Okay, but here’s the thing though, Geoff’s helped me figure out that yes, that’s part of why I am having such trouble opening up and making friends at uni, but it’s not the big thing getting in my way.”

Isaac turned on his side to face Charlie. “What is?” he asked quietly.

Charlie closed his eyes in concentration, his voice calm and thoughtful.

“Things got worse for me after I got outed, but school had always been hard. I think the boys around me somehow always knew I was different, even if they didn’t know how. By the time everyone at Truham found out I was gay, I’d already sort of accepted that no one there cared about me. The biggest difference was… what hurt was… all of a sudden I was not allowed to care about other people.” Charlie opened his eyes and gazed hazily at the ceiling. 

“I don’t understand,” Isaac admitted. 

“That's ‘cause you’re hiiiiiiigh.”

“Possibly. But I still want to understand.”

Charlie frowned and went on hesitatingly. “Being the gay kid at a boy’s school meant that any time I tried to be nice to someone, or even just polite- like, saying “hello” or “good morning” to my deskmate for fuck’s sake- they’d be obligated to be disgusted by me. Like, the worst thing I could possibly do was express care or affection or interest in someone else, because… I don’t know- they’d catch The Gay? Yeah, it was shite, being made to feel disgusting, but I think what bothered me the most isn’t the idea that no one loves me , or whatever, it’s that I’m not allowed to love .”

Isaac had no idea what to say, and was startled when Charlie suddenly broke out into a lopsided, determined grin. 

“It’s fucked up. I am tired of being fucked up. I am going to figure my shit out, and stop being so fucked up.” 

Charlie threw himself upright and flailed bonelessly over to the window, sticking his head out and yelling. “DO YOU HEAR THAT LONDON? MY HEALING JOURNEY HAD BLOODY BEGUN!” 

Isaac knew their neighbours would complain, but was laughing too hard to stop him. 

In the weeks that followed, Charlie really had seemed determined to break his pattern of self-isolation. He joined a band. He began auditing courses in the Classics department. He dipped his toes back into dating after some disastrous first attempts had put him off. 

Isaac was thrilled when he’d asked Charlie if he wanted to join him for a trip to his favourite bookstore on Sunday morning, and Charlie responded that he actually had plans with a handsome older boy named Ben. 

As Charlie spent more time with Ben, Isaac had been as excited for his friend as Charlie was for himself. Soon, however, it became crystal clear to Isaac that the closeted third year was toxic at best, abusive at worst. Eventually Charlie realised this too, but it took several tortuous months for him to extricate himself from the relationship. 

Charlie would try to break things off, Ben would launch a love-bombing attack to lure him back with false promises to be better, and the cycle would start all over again. The older boy had been a master at gaslighting, and although Charlie had been devastated to catch him cheating, Isaac was secretly relieved at the final, irrefutable proof that Ben was a horror of a human being to whom Charlie owed nothing. 

*DING*

Speaking of proof…

Isaac walked back to his beanbag with his second cup of tea, settling himself down before reaching for his phone to check his email. 

When Isaac had learned that Ben would be joining the L’Argent campaign, he had been ready to march straight to Elle. She hadn’t met Charlie till after the whole Ben fiasco, and he had never told her about Ben because he was embarrassed about how badly he had let himself be treated. Regardless of how useful it would be to have a relatively successful influencer on board, Elle would not have hesitated to send Ben packing if she had known the full story. 

Yes, Charlie had made Isaac promise not to tell, had asked him to give Ben the benefit of the doubt, but he should have trusted his gut. If he had, Charlie would never have been assaulted. 

He could not change the past, but he was determined to make up for his mistake by making sure Ben got what he deserved. 

Isaac navigated to his inbox, opened the new email, and read its contents.

Oh ho ho HO.

Today was shaping up to be a very good day, indeed.  

🍂🍃🍂🍃🍂🍃

By the time Charlie had given his teary confession to Elle and Tao (who had promptly lost their minds), escaped to his room for his scheduled Zoom sob-athon with Geoff (which had gone over time, as Geoff had somehow predicted it would), and taken a 30-minute run to boost his mood and hopefully work his appetite up enough for a solid lunch, he felt spectacularly dehydrated. 

Sometimes self-care looked like a glass of wine in the bath, and sometimes- like this morning- it looked like Lucozade in the shower. 

The contrasting sensations of the icy beverage and hot water grounded Charlie. He sighed when he finally exited the bathroom and realised he would not have time to carefully coax his curls into effortless-looking perfection. It was probably just as well, given what was on tap for the afternoon. 

After screaming the place down, Tao and Elle had left the flat to give Charlie privacy during his call. The two had originally planned to take the morning for themselves, perhaps go on a brunch date, but in the aftermath of Charlie’s revelation they had both felt that heading into the studio to drill into things and swing hammers around sounded much more therapeutic. 

The three flatmates had agreed to take a few hours to process before deciding what to do about Ben. After an exhausting session unpacking the whole situation with Geoff, Charlie was grateful for the respite from talking about it. 

Charlie rooted through his drawers, pushing his trendy clothing (all thrifted or magically procured by Elle) aside to excavate attire more suited to the mission of the day: complete the scaled-back version of the third set between noon and 6pm. Once dressed, he headed next door into the closet, and after a longing look at his drum kit, he turned to check his reflection in the large full-length mirror. 

Charlie let out a startled huff. His well-loved black (now more grey) jeans, faded long-sleeved Muse t-shirt, thick flannel button down, and paint-covered Converse were all relics from his teen years. For a moment it felt like he had stepped back in time, but the longer he stood there, the more clearly he could see all the ways he had changed.

At his worst, Charlie had been so underweight that he had secretly worn a second layer under these jeans to hide his painfully thin frame and to keep his perpetually cold body warm. Now those same jeans fit snugly, emphasising his slim but muscular legs that had become toned from regular running. His t shirt no longer hung off his torso, and he had unconsciously french-cuffed his flannel instead of letting the sleeves hang loose over his hands to cover his bitten nails. His posture was more sure, his stance wider, and although his curls were wild about his head, at least he was not hiding behind his hair the way he had when he was younger.

He was far from perfect. He was still a scrawny, mentally ill nerd. He was doing, by his own estimation, a pretty shaky job as a producer. He constantly fell short of being the kind of friend and sibling his loved ones deserved. 

But he had come so bloody far. And maybe, if he kept going, one day he would finally feel like enough. 

Charlie put his hands on his hips and stared fiercely at the mirror. 

“You are doing great, you are loved, and everything is going to be just fucking fine.” 

Grabbing his Beats headphones off his drum kit (his hair was a lost cause anyway) Charlie pulled up his Come At Me playlist and headed for the Tube.

🍂🍃🍂🍃🍂🍃

* New Group Chat*

MENACE: 🥳🎉🥳 🎉🥳 🎉 

MENACE: RISE AND SHINE

MENACE: I have fan-fucking-tastic news 

ELLE: Oooooh. Dish.

IMMY: 👀👀👀 Do tell!

MENACE: The build today is going to be a breeze now. We’ll be able to knock out the whole thing as designed

ISAAC: ???

MENACE: But I will need help getting Charlie on board with the new plan 😬

TARA: Charlie can deal

ISAAC: !!!

TAO: Charlie is the glue holding this whole thing together, so you would do well tk&3w!c@#aghd

ELLE: We will handle Charlie. 

IMMY: 🫣

ELLE: Tell us! What is this new plan??

MENACE: Nickaliscious, you heard the woman! Explain!

NICK: Good morning everyone 

ELLE: NICK 😍 ! How are you feeling???

IMMY: Good morning ❤️🌞❤️

ISAAC: Hi Nick! Hope you’re feeling better, we missed you yesterday

NICK: Thank you. I am so sorry about yesterday. I feel much better, and

NICK: We have this plan

NICK: My mate Sai is to blame actually

NICK: Not BLAME, that makes it sound like a bad thing 😅

NICK: It’s a good thing 👍

NICK: I think? 

ISAAC: 🤭

TARA: Nicky

MENACE: JUST TELL THEM

NICK: Right sorry

NICK: We have something to run past you all

Nick is typing…

🍂🍃🍂🍃🍂🍃

Something was off, and Charlie could not quite put his finger on what it was.

He had exited the Underground and walked across the road to get a (medium instead of monstrous since he was still a little dehydrated) iced coffee. Katya had been her normal gruff self, though she could not help herself from making an amused comment or two about his dressed-down appearance. Charlie had chuckled good-naturedly, and headed towards the studio complex without anything out of the ordinary occurring.

He greeted the security guard Tynashe (a continuing exercise in futility, as she had never given Charlie even the faintest acknowledgement) and made his way through the labyrinthine series of corridors that had now become as familiar to him as his flat. 

He considered the strange foreboding that had overcome him as he stood alone in the lift, wrinkling his nose at the lingering odour of someone- or possibly several someone’s- Axe body spray. Yes, the morning had been rough, and he was anxious for the day to go smoothly, but something beyond his baseline level of worry was tickling his spidey senses. 

Was Nick as into Spiderman as he was into Iron Man?

Charlie shook his head vigorously. Focus, you simp. 

As the lift doors opened, Charlie felt his phone buzz with a text notification. 

ELLE: Let us know when you are on your way

CHARLIE: I am here, just exiting the lift

ELLE: !!!

ELLE: Meet me at the loading door

ELLE: If you get there before me STAY PUT please 🙏🏾

Charlie was still frowning suspiciously at his phone screen when an Instagram notification popped up. 

NICK: Hi Charlie

NICK: I don’t know if you are a person who enjoys surprises, but I hope this is a good one

NICK: If it ends up being a bad surprise, please know it is my fault, not Darcy’s or anyone else’s

NICK: Elle says you’re almost here, hang on

Nick was at the studio? He was supposed to be resting! 

What the fuckity fucking fuckery did he mean by ‘SURPRISE’?!?

Charlie’s gay walk got gayer as he speeded down the hall. He had just arrived at the door to Studio 8 when it swooshed open. Elle seemed uncharacteristically nervous as she smiled widely at Charlie.

“Hi love! How was the rest of your morning?” she said brightly.

Charlie narrowed his eyes. “It was fine. I went for a run. Managed a sandwich. Can I come in, please?”

“Of course!” Elle’s laugh was more manic than Charlie was entirely comfortable with. “Come on in!” she said with a breathless flourish. 

Charlie stepped through the door to see Tao, Imogen, Isaac, Tara, and Nick standing in an alarmingly neat little row. 

“Good morning, Charlie!” they chorused.

“What the fuck,” said Charlie. 

“I like your flannel!” chirped Imogen. 

“Did you do something different with your hair? It suits you,” beamed Tara.

“You went for a run this morning? Good on you,” nodded Tao.

“I brought oatmeal raisin cookies in today. I know they’re your favourite,” pleaded Isaac. 

“Hi,” said Nick dreamily, his lopsided grin matching his stance as he leaned on his cane. 

Charlie blinked.

“I repeat: What. The. Fuck. Is. Going. On.” He took a step forward, and the group closed in to block his way.

“Charlie, before you head to set-” Elle began soothingly.

“-I know, I know, there is a surprise ,” Charlie interrupted, looking directly at Nick. Everyone else followed his gaze and threw their hands up in exasperation. Charlie, however, quickly averted his eyes when Nick’s beautifully bashful face made his already madly beating heart go even harder.

“Nick! What did you tell him?” Tao exclaimed. 

“Nothing! I just didn’t want to completely blindside him!” Nick squeaked, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. 

The temperature dropped. 

Everyone turned to look at Charlie. 

Oh shit. 

“Blindside me, eh?” said Charlie softly. 

His voice was icy fog creeping across frozen tundra. The group took a step back.

Charlie glared at each of his friends in turn as he began the fastest Gay Walk™ of his life towards the back of the studio. Everyone else jogged after him to keep up with his long strides, following close behind.

But not too close.

“I think you’ll find that if you stop and really think it through that this is such a turnup for us on multiple levels,” Elle gasped. 

“You’re going to love how things have worked out! I for one, am pleased as punch!” squealed Imogen

“You would be,” muttered Tao.

“Charlie, can you slow down please? Nick is injured, remember,” wheezed Isaac. 

Charlie stopped dead in his tracks, and the crowd behind him narrowly avoided a pileup as they screeched to a halt. 

Charlie turned around, inhaled to respond to Isaac, and stopped. 

What was that sound?

Six throats gulped. 

“Is Master Calendar here yet?” called a familiar voice. Darcy’s shaggy pastel head appeared around the corner. “There he is! Have you told him, then?”

“Told me what, Darcy?” Charlie stepped closer, moving like a glacier with an agenda*.

“Oh bugger. Well, I guess you’d better see for yourself. “ Darcy did her best not to shrivel at Charlie’s icy stare as he took a sip of his coffee. He walked past her and around the corner. 

The rest of the group followed behind Darcy, having collectively decided she was the most logical sacrifice. “It’s fucking aces,” she called. “We’ll be able to finish the original design now, Springtime!”

Charlie took in the expanse at the back of the studio.

He stared. And stared.

And stared.

WHAT. THE. FUCK.

Chapter Text

It was Charlie’s worst nightmare.

Rugby lads. 

Rugby lads lifting lumber.

Rugby lads laying luan.

Rugby lads on ladders.

Rugby lads with hammers.

Rugby lads.

Everywhere.

“Oi!” called Sai from where he was helping Jessica drill in some framing. “Is that Charlie?”

“It is!” called Nick. “Boys, this is Charlie.”

“HI CHARLIE,” bellowed the beefcakes. 

Charlie haltingly lifted a hand in the best approximation of a wave he could manage without falling over. 

Isaac bravely shuffled next to his friend as the rest of the group edged away. “Do you need to sit down?” he whispered. 

“Grutyhjdaloufnph.” 

“Is he broken?” muttered Imogen. Elle placed an elegant finger to her lips in a gesture that clearly said, Only silence can save us now . 

“Um… Is this a bad surprise then?”

Charlie stiffly turned to where Nick was worrying his lip and looking for all the world like a kicked puppy.

“Hrrrrrrr…”

Charlie closed his eyes. The group held their breath. He coughed, and tried again.

“H–how?” Charlie rasped, spastically waving his arm towards the hoard of helpful hunks. 

Nick glanced over at Sai’s approaching figure and smiled wonderingly. “Well, it was a surprise to me too, actually…”

🍂🍃🍂🍃🍂🍃

Wednesday Night, 8pm

SAI: Hey lads, how is beautiful Birmingham?

CHRIS: have figured out why Otis keeps saying Birmingham is shite

CHRIS: the Black Country has like NO Black people mate

SAI: …that right?

OTIS: 🤦🏿‍♂️

CHRIS: and there’s only like five Desi folks

CHRIS: fairly certain they all work at the same restaurant round the corner

CHRIS: which thank Christ because Otis your mum is a lovely woman but her cooking is killing me

OTIS: Piss off 

OTIS: If you don’t like my mom’s cooking you can fuck off back to Leeds

SAI: Having a bit of a domestic are we?

OTIS: I invite this tosser home with me for bye week so he won’t be lonely

CHRIS: !!! Lonely??? Would have been chuffed having the flat to myself

CHRIS: finally be able to have a bird or two over 😈

OTIS: HA sure mate

SAI: Have you taken him to Cadbury World?

CHRIS: Wot

CHRIS: Hang on, I’m looking it up

CHRIS: WHY HAVEN’T WE GONE YET

CHRIS: “Dive into a bowl of liquid Cadbury Dairy Milk, ride the Crunchie Rollercoaster and take to the skies in a Cadbury Creme Egg airship piloted by the Caramel Bunny.”

OTIS: It’s not an actual bowl of Dairy Milk 

CHRIS: it says it right there on the website!

OTIS: jfc

SAI: I don’t want to come between you lads and the Caramel Bunny, but I have a proposition. Can we Facetime in 10ish?

CHRIS: 👀👀👀

OTIS: 👍🏿

🍂🍃🍂🍃🍂🍃

Wednesday Night, 11pm

CHRIS: u up?

DEVON: …

DEVON: this a bloody booty call?

BOBBY: in the groupchat no less

VIC: seems on brand

CARL: wot’s up?

ARTHUR: Apparently you lot

ARTHUR: You wankers know it’s the middle of the night yeah?

BOBBY: It’s not even midnight 

DEVON: lay off our Grandad 

DEVON: no one needs beauty sleep more than he does

ARTHUR: get back to me after you’ve had two kids and talk about beauty sleep 

CHRIS: Lads lads lads

CHRIS: This is important

CHRIS: Sai didn’t think I should say anything

CHRIS: But remember when we were out for drinks last week and were talking about Nick?

BOBBY: Is he okay???

VIC: What’s wrong with Cap?

JACOB: Aw fuck 

CHRIS: CALM DOWN AND LET ME FINISH

DEVON: You mean when we were talking about what GORMLESS SHITES we were after his accident?

JACOB: 😔

CHRIS: Yeah

BOBBY: No lies there. We properly fucked up.

VIC: Not making excuses, but seeing him like that was gutting. 

JACOB: Does he know we came to see him?

CHRIS: No idea 

CARL: It sort of felt like he didn’t want us to see him, though? 

VIC: Nelson’s always been a tough one.

ARTHUR: Chris, what did you want to tell us?

CHRIS: Nick has made some new friends 😃😃😃

CHRIS: And he was helping them out this week, but then he fucked his knee 😟😟😟

CHRIS: Sai didn’t say anything outright, but I think maybe there’s a lass involved that he wants to impress 👀👀👀

DEVON: We sure it’s a lass?

CHRIS: Wot you mean?

CARL: 🙄

JACOB: 🤦‍♂️

ARTHUR: …who’s going to tell him?

VIC: Wait wait who is in this groupchat???

BOBBY: Don’t worry, Patty’s not here

DEVON: Or the other tossers

VIC: Ok good

CHRIS: I’m confused

ARTHUR: We know mate

CHRIS: Anyway, Nick feels like shite, his new mates need help

CHRIS: we feel like shite for failing our Captain

CHRIS: so what if

CHRIS: we helped Nick help his friends?

VIC: When?

JACOB: Where?

ARTHUR: Help with what?

CHRIS: London. Tomorrow. I am not sure I quite understand with what, but I think it involves power too Ph848y3WCOAp9UF4#8

CHRIS: This is Otis

CHRIS: Sending a Zoom link to explain

CHRIS: Right after I drown Chris in the Rea

🍂🍃🍂🍃🍂🍃

Thursday Morning, 8am

“So, yeah. Arthur left Leeds at like 5 this morning, and he’s bringing Bobby and Jacob. Devon is already in London. Victor’s coming from Norwich and picking up Carl in Colchester,” said Otis, glaring over at Chris beaming proudly to himself in the passenger seat.

Sai’s long-suffering exhale whooshed through the car’s bluetooth system. 

“Nine rugby lads are better than three rugby lads!” Chris argued cheerily. “That’s double the lads!”

Otis and Sai kindly remained silent. 

Chris paused thoughtfully. “What’s the, whatsit, collective noun for a bunch of rugby lads?”

Otis blinked. Sai huffed. “Do you mean a rugby TEAM, mate?”

“No, ‘cause like, seven players is a team. Fifteen players is a team. But nine? Or four? What do you call that? You can have a gaggle of geese, a pride of lions, a murder of crows- cool that, yeah? A MURDER of crows, mate! What’s the word for a bunch of rugby boys that isn’t a team?”

“Murder…” mused Otis.

“Naw ‘Tis, told you, that’s for crows.”

Sai cleared his throat. “What’s your ETA?”

“Just hit Chiswick- twenty minutes? Maybe thirty?” said Otis. 

“Cor, lads, I’m looking up more words for groups of things. A flamboyance of flamingos! A PRICKLE of hedgehogs, that’s a good one. Aw no- an embarrassment of pandas!? That’s just not on. What’s embarrassing about pandas? Pandas are awesome!”

“...we’ll be there in ten.” 

🍂🍃🍂🍃🍂🍃

Thursday Morning, 8:45am

* KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK*

“Oi! Nelson! You awake? Got a surprise for you, mate!”

“Just woke up- come on in, I’ll be out in a moment!” Nick called, reaching for his cane and rising slowly to his feet. He plucked his robe off the back of his bedroom door and had just stepped into the living room when Sai used his spare key to open the front door. 

“Bit early for you,” smiled Nick sleepily, tying his robe and making his way over to the kettle. “Cuppa?”

“I brought you a tea, actually,” Nick turned to see his friend holding two takeaway cups in a cardboard drink tray. “London Fog with lavender, your favourite posh nonsense.” Sai carefully pushed the hot drink across the counter to Nick, who plucked the lid off to breathe in the soothing scent. “Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it,” he said dreamily as he leaned on the counter and placed his face right above the steaming cup. “Thank you Sai, this was lovely of you.”

“You’re in a good mood this morning- feeling better?” asked Sai, peering nervously over his own drink as he watched his bed-headed friend take a satisfied sip. 

“Mmmm… yeah. My shoulder feels better, my knee’s less shite. My head is on straight…” Nick peered serenely down at his cup before looking up at Sai.

“...I’m not, though,” he said. 

Sai started in astonishment, then his slow grin spread like the sun rising. “That right?”

“I’m bi, actually.” 

“I know, actually.”

The two smiled, then stared studiously down at their cups. “But,” Sai finally said wetly, “thank you for telling me, Nick.”

“I’m sor… Thank you for waiting for me to be ready to tell you.”

Nick picked up his tea, and Sai gently tapped his drink against Nick’s in a quiet, emotion-laden toast. 

“I’m a brilliant friend,” Sai declared with a poorly hidden sniffle. “It’s true.” 

Nick chuckled as Sai stepped around the counter to take him by both shoulders. “Which I am going to need you to remember, yeah?”

Nick took in Sai’s suddenly serious expression and cocked his head like a confused, shaggy-headed puppy. “What you mean?”

“NELSSSONNNNNN!”

“CAPTAIN, OUR CAPTAIN!”

“OI NICHOLAS! COME OUT OF YOUR TOWER!”

“PRINCESS, YOUR KNIGHTS HAVE ARRIVED!”

Nick’s eyes widened. Sai squeezed his shoulders and spun him around. He walked Nick over to the wall of windows, flung the blackout drapes aside, and opened one of the large glass panels. Nick blinked in the morning light, then stuck his head out with Sai to peer down at the pavement in front of his building. 

Christian, Otis, Arthur, Vic, Bobby, Devon, Carl, and Jacob stood hooting and hollering beneath his window. 

“WAAAHEEEEY! THERE HE IS!” bellowed Chris. The rest of the lads cheered. 

“What…” Nick turned his shell shocked face to Sai.

“Told you. I’m a brilliant friend.” Sai gave his shoulders a final squeeze before heading over to buzz the hoard in. “And you have more of them than you think.”

🍂🍃🍂🍃🍂🍃

Ten enormous men were about six too many for the size of Nick’s flat. 

Arthur, Bobby, and Jacob sat on the sofa while Chris and Otis perched on each arm (Nick was not altogether unreasonably concerned that the whole thing would collapse). Vic and Devon had each dragged over a dining chair. Carl was on the floor by the coffee table alongside Sai. 

Nick sat in his armchair, bewildered and still bathrobe-clad as he took in the circle of beseeching faces.

“It’s good to see you, Nick,” said Arthur.

Nick remained silent.

“Love the flat. And that kettle is sick,” ventured Vic.

Nick glanced at Sai. What was going on?

“And what a great location,” chirped Bobby.

“For fuck’s sake.” Devon slapped his knees and stood up. “Nick, we’re here to apologise.”

“We are?” whispered Chris.

“You’re good,” muttered Otis.

Devon soldiered on, looking determinedly into Nick’s wide eyes. “You were our Captain, the best bloody captain we’ve ever had, and we weren’t there for you when it mattered. We’ve been cowardly cunts-”

Nick raised an eyebrow.

“- sorry, cowardly arseholes , and shite teammates- shite mates, period.”

Arthur, Bobby, Vic, Jacob, and Carl all nodded vigorously. 

Nick was so confused. 

“You look confused,” said Chris. 

“Jesus Christ,” Otis whispered through the hand covering his face. 

“I am confused,” said Nick. He felt himself shutting down- switching off - and dug his fingers into his sore knee to ground himself. “The moment I got knocked out and carried off that field, it was like I stopped existing to you lot.” 

Nick was known for his ability to stay calm. Although he had been a tough captain, he had never lost his temper on the pitch. 

But Nick wasn’t captain anymore- and he was angry .

More than that, Nick was hurt . 

He stood. “We spent nearly every waking hour together, for years , and then I get injured, am laid up for months , and I don’t hear a word from any of you.” He felt his eyes well, but he didn’t give a shit what these men thought of him anymore. “It’s October . It took you seven months to finally get around to giving a fuck?”

The silence was deafening. 

Then-

“We came to see you,” Arthur said quietly.

Nick blinked. “No you didn’t.”

“We did. We all did,” said Vic. 

“We came to see you the day after you woke up.” Devon rose and came to stand opposite Nick. “You didn’t recognise us.”

“You couldn’t talk,” Jacob said wetly from the sofa.

“You were in a bad way,” Devon went on, “and you were in a bad way every time we came back.”

Every time?

“You would get so riled up, mate. Having us there was doing more harm than good.”

“We came back every day. We gave up after the fifth visit,” said Arthur, rising and coming over to stand beside Devon. 

“I don’t remember…” said Nick. “But why… eventually I got better. I started coming around by week two. I was in rehab for months. Why…” 

Arthur exhaled shakily. “There were lots of reasons, and none of them good ones.”

“It was gutting to see you like that.”

“We weren’t sure if you’d still be Nick anymore.”

“We were worried you wouldn’t have wanted us to see you like that.”

“You’ve always been so private, never letting anyone in, we didn’t want you to feel exposed or ashamed.”

“We felt guilty. You’d asked us if it was time to pack it in because of the rain, and we were all too stubborn to back down, even though we knew it was dangerous.”

“The weeks passed, and we felt more guilty…”

“.. and then Coach said you chose retirement instead of a leave.”

“It wasn’t fair, but we were pissed mate. Not so much as a goodbye-

“- even though we didn’t deserve a goodbye.”

“We just… we didn’t know what to say.”

“...so we didn’t say anything,” finished Devon, his voice heavy with regret.

Nick stared tearily at Devon, then at Arthur, then circled his gaze around his living room. 

Ten enormous, weepy men was ten too many for the size of Nick’s flat. 

“I am going to put some trousers on,” he finally breathed. 

Nine heads nodded, and Nick grabbed his cane and walked into his bedroom in a daze. He shut the door quietly behind him, and let the tears fall. 

He pulled on a shirt and a pair of sweatpants, then dunked a hand in the water glass by his bed before running it through his hair in a vain attempt to tame it. He quickly gave up, but remained in front of his mirror.

Do you believe them? he silently asked his reflection.

Does it matter? It’s too fucking late for apologies. 

“You’ve always been so private, never letting anyone in, we didn’t want you to feel exposed or ashamed.”

“We didn’t know what to say, so we didn’t say anything.”

Nick closed his eyes. He wasn’t sure how to feel. 

“When are we going to tell him we’re here to help his mates???” Nick heard Chris bleat, followed by a chorus of loud shushing.

What?

Nick threw his bedroom door open. “What’s this now?” he demanded in his full Captain Voice. 

“Sai said your friends are building some kind of set for a movie? That you’re acting in?” said Chris brightly.

“A set for a fashion shoot. Film and still photography. They asked me to fill in for one of their models.” Nick preemptively folded his arms, expecting mockery. When none came, he continued. “You remember my friend Darcy? She’s the set designer, and in charge of getting everything built. There have been… setbacks.”

Chris beamed. “That’s why we’re here. We’re your mates, and they’re your mates, so they’re our mates, and we want to help.”

The men all nodded hopefully.

Nick placed his hands on his hips and sighed. “This is madness. You lot have been the WORST FUCKING TEAMMATES in the history of the WORLD, and now you are all here UNINVITED in MY FLAT in LONDON asking me to FORGIVE you for being ABSOLUTE BELLENDS.”

“Yes,” they squeaked. 

Nick glanced at Sai, who was already grinning from ear to ear. 

Nick was not sure he was ready to forgive his teammates.

But he was not about to look a gift hoard in the mouth. 

“Right then.” Nick clapped his hands together. “Who here knows how to use a steamer?”

🍂🍃🍂🍃🍂🍃

Thursday, Noon

Nick came to the end of his breathless explanation. Charlie stared at him blankly for a moment, and then turned to Sai. 

“So this is your doing then,” he said, voice flat. 

Sai glanced uneasily at Nick, and then at Elle, Tao, Imogen, Tara and Isaac cowering behind Darcy. He gulped.

“I mean, Christian- “ he started. 

“Our budget is stretched as tight as it will go,” Charlie interrupted. “I can’t- “

“We don’t want your money, mate!” Christian had bounced over and clapped giant hands on Sai and Nick’s shoulders. He grinned broadly at Charlie. “This is important to Nick, so it’s important to us.”

Charlie considered Christian’s earnest face, his own expression still unreadable. His gaze slowly tracked around to Darcy. 

“Do they know what they’re doing?”

Sai lifted an enormous arm to point at the hulking crowd heading towards them. “Devon’s dad is a contractor. Jacob spent two summers volunteering for Habitat. Carl’s sister is a theatre kid, and he helped build sets when he was younger. Vic used to paint houses. Bobby’s actually a bloody good artist. And the rest of them… “

“We can pick heavy things up and put them down,” declared Otis with a cheeky grin. The men around him hooted in agreement.  

Charlie spun in a slow circle, taking in the eager assemblage of rugby lads and his friends’ anxious faces. His gaze lingered on Nick before turning back to Sai and Christian. 

The room held its breath. 

“Thank you,” Charlie finally said. 

“No problem mate!” said Christian, oblivious to the seismic waves of relief around him. 

“We are so grateful, and I am truly glad for how much this will help our campaign,” Charlie continued. 

He glanced at Nick before turning to address the rest of the lads.  He made eye contact with each one as he said, “But I am more glad to see Nick has friends that care about him this much. He deserves that.”

Some of the lads looked down at their feet, but Devon did not flinch. “He does, and we do,” he said warmly. 

Charlie nodded. Nick, slightly flushed, met his eyes, and the two exchanged the faintest of smiles.

Nick raised his eyebrows at the lads. Charlie folded his arms at the huddle behind Darcy. 

“WHAT ARE YOU STANDING THERE FOR? BACK TO IT LADS!” bellowed Nick.

“WE’VE GOT SIX HOURS, LET’S GET A MOVE ON!” hollered Charlie.

Everyone scattered with a chorus of WHOOP! s and Yes, Captain! s and Right On, Master Calendar! s.

“Cor, that Charlie bloke is intense ,” muttered Chris as the rugby rabble trotted away. There was a rumble of agreement. 

“Yeah,” breathed Nick dreamily. He peeled away from the group to see if Darcy had a task for him that he could do sitting down. His teammates exchanged knowing glances as they hefted lumber from the pile that had been laid out for them. 

“I think I know who the lass is,” smiled Devon to a quiet chorus of chuckles.  

“Wot?” Chris whipped his head around. “WHO!?!” he hissed. 

The collective sigh almost blew him right over. 

🍂🍃🍂🍃🍂🍃

Thursday, 2pm

Elle eyed her head of makeup suspiciously across the table. They were pouring over their work lists for tomorrow’s shoot along with Tao and Tara. 

Imogen had arrived dressed in an adorable pair of dungarees and with her hair back in space buns; she had giggled that she was excited to be “twinning” with Darcy for the day. 

At some point between then and now, she had undergone a (not unprecedented but definitely noteworthy)  wardrobe change.

Mini dress. High pony tail. Fluttering lashes. 

That woman is up to something. 

Isaac interrupted Elle’s train of thought by popping his head around a garment rack. “Hallo! Sorry, can I borrow Elle and Tao for a bit?” 

Imogen beamed brightly at Elle. “Go ahead! We’ve been at this for two hours, it’s time we all took a break.” 

Elle narrowed her eyes, then turned to Tara. “A break sounds good. If you pop out for a chai, would you mind grabbing me a coffee?” 

“Can do,” Tara smiled, standing to reach up to the ceiling and then bending over to stretch out her back. “See you in a bit,” she called, her head between her legs as Elle and Tao followed Isaac.

“TARA.” Imogen’s upside down face suddenly appeared directly in front of hers, their noses almost touching. 

Tara blinked. “Yes?”

“I have a thought.”

🍂🍃🍂🍃🍂🍃

Thursday, 2:15pm

“Where the hell are you taking us?” Tao demanded as Isaac led him, Elle, and Charlie through the bowls of the studio complex. A fluorescent light flickered ominously above them. “Are WE going to be the bodies that no one ever finds?”

“No body, no crime,” Isaac replied. 

“You HAVE been talking to Tori,” muttered Charlie, dodging an honest-to-God cobweb.

“I mean that metaphorically, in this case,” Isaac said, turning sharply down a dark corridor and leaving his friends scrambling to catch up. “I looked into the conviction rates for assault in Greater London. Even with a statement from Charlie and with Nick as a witness, the chances of Ben facing any meaningful consequences for what he did- what he tried to do- are miniscule. Unless there is evidence.” 

Isaac stopped at a door that read “SECURITY,” and gave a few soft knocks. “It’s Isaac.”

“Come on in, luv!” boomed a husky, feminine voice. 

Isaac held the door open for his bemused friends as they slid into a small room. Three walls were covered in video monitors, and Charlie was surprised to see their invariably apathetic security guard Tynashe beaming adoringly up at Isaac from her swivel chair.

He exchanged glances with Elle and Tao.

Come to think of it, no surprises at all here. 

“Isaac,” Tynashe cooed, “These your friends?”

“They are indeed,” said Isaac, oozing charm that left everyone in the room slightly flustered. “Tynashe, this is Tao, Elle, and Charlie.” 

“Ooooooh.” Tynashe’s smitten face turned serious as she spun her chair towards Charlie. “Cutie-pie here told me what happened, and I checked the recordings. What a fucking cunt, I am so sorry for what happened to you.”

“Recordings?” Charlie looked up and finally registered what was being broadcast on the wall of screens.

Security footage.

“The cameras are hard to notice,” said Isaac. “I only saw them because I’ve been doing all that work in the lifts.”

“Sharp one, you are.” Tyansha fluttered her lashes. Charlie caught Tao rolling his eyes.  

“I didn’t say anything,” Isaac continued, “because I didn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up. But Tynashe here,” he said warmly as the curvaceous security guard melted, “went through the recordings, and everything was caught on camera.”

Charlie felt a little lightheaded, and Elle and Tao each placed a steadying hand on his back. “Really?” he whispered. 

“Yes luv, let me show you.” Tynashe tapped on her keyboard and brought up what looked like a composited video; the screen was split into four quadrants, each displaying a different angle of the spot where Ben had cornered Charlie. 

Isaac reached out and grabbed his friend’s hand. Charlie looked down at his firm grip, gulped, and nodded his assent. Tynashe hit Play.

There was no sound, but the recording was high resolution, and there was no mistaking the expression on either Charlie or Ben’s faces. Charlie heard his friends gasp as they watched Ben grab and slam him against the roadcase. “That son-of-a-bitch,” Tao seethed. Charlie felt like he watched himself struggle forever, but it could not have been more than ten seconds before Nick appeared in the frame.

“Oh wow,” breathed Elle as they watched Nick pick up and fling Ben away. They saw Nick’s ferocious expression as he said something to Ben that sent him bolting for the door. Charlie felt Isaac squeeze his hand as he watched himself slide to the floor, and then Nick kneel down in front of him.

“We can stop there,” Isaac said softly. The screen went dark. 

The room was quiet.

“Isaac,” Charlie said finally. “You said that with evidence, there would be a greater chance that Ben is convicted of assault.” 

“Yes.”

“But it’s not a sure thing, even with the video. Ben comes from money. He has resources that I don’t.”

Isaac sighed, “I know, Charlie, but we can’t just let this go.”

“You know what would be REALLY terrible?” Tao blurted suddenly. The room turned, and Charlie wondered if Tori had secretly been giving all his friends lessons in how to be terrifying. 

“It would be such a SHAME if this video were to leak on social media and TANK the career of a certain influencer.”

Charlie froze, and Tao quickly went on. “If a good video editor was so inclined, the face of the man that Ben Hope made the MISTAKE of assaulting could be irretrievably blurred out.”

“And Nick’s?” Charlie breathed. 

Tao nodded. 

“I don’t hear any of this,” Tynashe muttered. “And I am certainly not emailing a copy of this recording to Isaac.”