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Chapter Text

Of all the possible places Charlie could have found himself stranded and surrounded by the hormonal homophobic teenage asshats that were the students of Truham Grammar, a remote forest was definitely the last on the list. Charlie had only signed up for this god-forsaken camping trip on the account that he'd be bunking with Tao, Isaac, and a mysterious other third person, but apparently due to a last-minute location change everything was screwed up, and for the last four days he had been bunking with three Year 11s who either reeked of sweat or Axe body spray and never anything in between. 

If hell was a place on Earth, Charlie was certain he'd found it. And, look, he'd really tried to go into this whole thing with a positive attitude but here he was, left alone in the middle of the woods abandoned. To make matters worse he had no idea which camps Tao and Isaac had ended up in and trying to find them without a cell signal was pretty much out of the question. Elle was here too but the boys vs. girls campgrounds were far apart and given how he hadn't seen a single Higgs girl since they'd left, apart from group activities like bonfires and possibly lunchtime he didn't think he'd get to see her anytime soon either. He was officially on his own.

May god have mercy on his frightened gay soul.

Charlie didn't really consider himself one with nature. Never had, really. If being outdoorsy was an Olympic sport Charlie hadn’t even qualified. So far his highlights were mosquito bites ranging from his ankles to his ears (the blood-thirsty little creatures were out for revenge or something he swore to god), slipping and falling ass-first into a pool of mud (not just once, but twice), and dirtying his second-favourite pair of converse in the process (luckily he'd had half the brain to leave his absolute favourite pair at home where they were safer from the natural elements).

But in all realness, the biggest danger in these woods were the people. Not the ones he was bunking with, thankfully. He'd been able to disappear for hours at a time with none of them ever posing the question Where's that nerd Year 10 boy at now? a single time. It made him feel both accomplished and a little saddened at the same time if he was being honest. 

But, no, the danger he spoke about was situated right across from their bunks past the shoddy gravel road, another cabin that housed none other than Harry Greene and Co.

An unmoderated house of chaos and also the reason why Charlie hadn't gotten a wink of sleep the last 4 nights, just the sight of that cabin chilled him to the bone.

At the start of the trip, he hadn't more than semi-recognized the orange-haired Year 11's face from the halls. Charlie assumed Harry had probably been one to hurdle a homophobic comment his way at least once or twice but he'd thought nothing of it. What he hadn't known was that Harry would more than make his presence known by the end of the camping trip and they were still three days away from returning back to those awful dreary, rain-cloud-engulfed Kent skies. Though to be fair, there were plenty of rainclouds here too so he couldn't really complain about being homesick.

Over the past week, he's (unwillingly) learned many things about Harry Greene when he'd been invited to Charlie's cabin for parties at 2 a.m. by his bunkmates (who he was slowly starting to become more and more irritated by). A rich snob with the IQ of a rock, the dunce was unlike any other Truham bully he'd encountered before. He had this, strange, unearned confidence he walked around with and feared absolutely nothing. 

Harry also liked to broadcast facts about himself like he was a radio show host and the whole world was his audience and it got really exhausting really fucking fast - not that that's relevant. 

Just a minor observation. 

For a while, Charlie had just assumed Harry would be an unfortunate thorn in his side, an annoying neighbour if you will, until the green-eyed goblin eventually began to make himself known. Charlie had thought himself invisible after the way his bunkmates had ignored him but he'd completely forgotten about how being the only out gay kid in all of Truham had put a target on his back and in the blink of an eye he became Harry's party trick. Whenever his mates got a little too fed up with his loud humourless jokes he'd spray his homophobia Charlie's way just to relish in the laughter that came afterward and the approval from his peers. What had started as a few jabs here and there turned into relentless mockery, slurs spat and sometimes even "lighthearted" slaps to the back or shoulder checks knocking him off his balance nearly sending him tumbling face-first into the ground. 

Earlier he'd straight up kicked him out of the changing room after the teachers had taken all the Year 10 and 11s for a swim in the lake, asking him if he "liked what he saw" and accusing him of "peeping at them", which gross. Just because he was gay didn't mean he didn't have standards. He wished he had summed up the courage to stand up to them and say some version of that right to their snobby faces, but he was slowly starting to accept his fate. There was a pecking order and he just had to get used to his place at the bottom of the social food chain. It didn't matter anyway, anything he said to them would just fall on deaf ears. 

Just now he'd finally gotten his turn to change and shower in peace, so naturally, when he reaches for his change of clothes only to find his bag nowhere to be seen Harry and his goons are the only possible answer. 

His heart skips a beat as his palm grasps at empty air on the bench beside the entrance of the shower. Panicked, he glances through the curtains and surely enough there was nothing left but his pair of shorts in the empty change room. In 6°C weather - the earlier heat now gone with the approach of nightfall. Nothing else left, not even a towel. 

He grabs the swim shorts. 

No, this couldn't be happening.

Charlie felt a combination of nausea and tension bubbling in the back of his throat. His breaths were short and struggling, like someone had stapled the ends of his esophagus together, then punched him in the gut. The room started to feel really bright right then, much brighter than it had felt earlier. He stares through his tears at the warped, distorted image of the flourescent lights that hung above. He was stuck here, it dawns on him suddenly. He had no one he could call, nothing to call them with, not one to count on. 

No one was coming to save him.

A sob escapes his throat and he begs it to bury itself down in the darkness again but it resists. Through gritted teeth and a clamped jaw another sob follows. 

If he died here right now would anyone find him-?

Suddenly a sound snaps Charlie's head up like a whip. Footsteps sound through the thin wooden door as he recides back into the shower snapping the curtain closed.

"Please don't let it be those rugby jerks, again," Charlie mutters nervously under his breath to any deities out there that may care to show him even one ounce of pity. 

He holds his breath and slows the speed of the water bursting out of the showerhead so he'd be able to hear any sudden movements. The door swings open and he can hear a boy's surprised voice cursing under his own shaky exhale. something about the way he's been easily startled at the door slamming into the adjacent wall felt comforting. Just another person afraid of his own shadow, maybe? Charlie wonders, hopeful. He prays the running water is enough to conceal his faded sobs. 

He debates whether he should say anything or just let the person pass. What he didn't expect was for the complete stranger to hear him sobbing quietly to himself in the shower and actually care enough to say something.

"Are you- are you alright?" a gentle voice sounds. Charlie's eyes widen and he begs his brain to think of a coherent answer. He didn't know who the person was. as far as he knew he could be one of Harry's friends only here to enforce the initial torment. He couldn't trust a stranger. Charlie bites his tongue but it only makes his still-sounding cries more muffled.

"Hello?" the voice calls again. 

Charlie didn't know what did it. Maybe it had been the softness in his voice, so different from Harry's aggressive and grating tone. Maybe the door thing, he really didn't know. But for some reason, Charlie decides to speak up. And truly, he's never been this embarrassed in his entire life but after five minutes he's explained what's happened from the safety of the shower. After another five the boy explains he saw a red bag matching the exact description of Charlie's on the side of the gravel road right outside the washroom and after another five long grueling minutes of Charlie's sad, pathetic life he's being passed a towel through the curtains with his bag safe and sound on the bench. Charlie thanks those same deities that there are still decent people in the world, not believing someone having gone through all that trouble for a stranger. 

"Do you... have anything on or... uhm...?"

The awkwardness hangs in the air like an off-kilter ceiling fan. Ugly and right there in plain sight, the useless thing taking up all the space in the room.

Charlie swallows, "I... have swimming trunks on," he mumbles honestly. A feeling of dread settles itself in his stomach as his fingers brush over the scars on his arms. 

There's a long stretched-out pause and the boy eventually offers, "I can still turn around if you want."

Charlie bites back a sigh of relief, "Okay."

He steps out of the shower to see the boy had turned the other way and even put his hands on his eyes for good measure. He tiptoes over the cold wet floor, properly dries himself off with the towel, and throws on his shirt and a jumper. He realizes he didn't really get a good glance at the mystery boy but immediately after he dries his dark springy curls with the semi-damp towel and turns to announce he's finished, his breath gets caught in his throat at the sight of a pair of bright hazel eyes meeting his own.

"Hi," the boy breathes.

"Hi," Charlie replies stupidly before he suddenly regains consciousness. 

"Do you know who did this to you-?" 
"Why did you help me-?" they blurt out at the same time in an attempt to bury the silence. 

Charlie gestures with a small wave of his hand and a shy smile that tugged at his lips that the boy speak first.

"Do you know who did this to you?" he repeats softly, tone so unlike Harry's or any of the other boys from earlier. Charlie wants so badly to believe that his concern is genuine but he still doesn't feel like he can trust it. After all, he doesn't even know the boy's name.

"I..." he starts, then shakes his head looking down at the floor when he says it, hiding his face from view just in case the tears decided to make a reappearance. 

"Do you know- do you know Harry Greene? In Year 11?" he works out feebly, and really it's pathetic how he can barely say his name out loud.

The boy's facial expression contorts into something new, a combination of surprise, and confusion but a little bit of sadness in it too. All odd things for him to be experiencing given the circumstances unless... 

Oh no.

"Harry Greene? Are you sure?"

Oh no. 

"Yeah, I'm certain. Why, do you...?" but Charlie can't even finish his sentence, just trailing off into nothingness awaiting his reaction.

"I know him, yeah, if that's what you’re asking. He's on the rugby team and since I'm captain of the team I sort of know everyone," the response comes from a clenched jaw and instills a new kind of fear in Charlie's mind. 

No, no, no. Captain of the rugby team? 

He looked mad... What if he'd accuse Charlie of lying? What if he was just like Harry and the rest of his mates and the moment he found out what a loser Charlie was he'd shove him into a locker somewhere? Were there even lockers out here? There had been some earlier at the check-in lodge, he realizes. He'd have to stay away from it just in case.

Involuntarily he drops the towel at his feet and accidentally knocks over the contents of his gym bag in the process, other towels, a toothbrush, a book, and other random items he'd been too lazy to properly pack in his duffel bag at camp. The boy leans over as if about to help him but Charlie quickly drops down to messily shove everything back inside holding the loose towel in his opposite hand.

"It's alright! Erm, thanks for all your help but I think I'm fine now-!" Charlie blurts out, shaking the towel as he speaks, gesturing with it wildly while speed-walking directly to the door.

"Wait!" the boy calls pulling Charlie back by his wrist gently before he can leave. Charlie practically yelps at the sudden contact. God, he was cute and it absolutely wasn't helping. He didn’t know whether to call for help or swoon. 

He had to get out of here.

The boy quickly drops Charlie's arm like he hadn't meant to pick it up in the first place and rubs the back of his neck with his hand nervously. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you, I just- did I say something wrong? Just now? And about Harry... look, we all kind of know he's a dick but-" What? "But, just… what he did to you was new information to me and I didn't think he'd do that to someone for no reason."

We all kind of know he's a dick. In all his years at Truham something he'd never expected to hear about was a rugby lad who talked shit about his own kind, let alone witness it in a random empty campground change room.

"Are you..." Charlie's not even sure he really wants an answer, to be honest. He just stands there clutching his towel with a death-grip-like intensity. "Are you friends with him then?"

The boy swallows like he's genuinely thinking hard about it - another activity he'd never expect to watch a rugby lad pursue. He shakes his head, "Honestly, I've been looking for a good reason to drop him."

Charlie blinks in surprise, "It's honestly fine, it was just a silly prank, don't worry about it. Surely it's not worth it." And he really didn’t think so, but he could only imagine how angry Harry would be when he discovered he was the reason the rugby captain at Truham no longer wanted to hang out with him. That’d be like highlighting the already huge target on his back in bright yellow and then handing Harry a bow and arrow. 

"A prank? Is that what he told you?" the boy looks even angrier than before but it relaxes the tension in Charlie's chest to know that it's not actually aimed at him. 

“I mean, that’s what he said last time,” Charlie mutters quietly with a shrug not thinking the boy had heard it. 

“Last time? What do you mean last time is this a regular thing?” his head snaps up like a whip. 

“Yeah, just since camp started, but, really I don’t think he meant it to go that far—“

“That’s not an excuse for his shitty behaviour,” the boy sighs pinching the bridge of his nose before looking up at Charlie with saddened eyes. Charlie smiles sadly to fill the silence hoping it doesn’t look as pathetic as he imagines it does in his mind. 

"I say we go show Harry what a proper prank looks like," he announces all of a sudden after a moment's silence.

"What?" Charlie chokes out. "No, no, it's fine, you really don't have to go through all that trouble just because of this. It's really not worth it.”

The boy cuts through the tension with a sly grin that Charlie thinks perfectly suits his face. "If you don't think I'll reap any personal enjoyment from seeing the look on Harry's face after he's been slimed in the middle of the night or something, you're sorely mistaken."

It catches Charlie completely off-guard. He holds back a chuckle opting for a grin instead, "Maybe a classic shaving cream makeover would be more tasteful? I always thought a foamy mustache would suit him."

They both burst into unserious laughter. 

"Thank you.. for helping me..."

"Nick," he supplies with a grin. "Nelson. Nick Nelson."

Charlie beams in return, actually feeling his first ounce of joy on this god-forsaken camping trip. 

Nick glances at him with an eyebrow shot up, waiting. "Well, if we're going to be partners in crime I should at least know your name too. You know, for the police records and stuff?"

Charlie smirks, earlier hesitation having dissipated completely. "Charlie. Charlie Spring."

"Well, alright then, Charlie Spring. Let's go get even."

Chapter Text

"Ihatethisihatethisihatethisihatethis," Nick whimpers from the darkness beside him, clutching desperately onto Charlie's arm with one hand while armed with a flashlight in the other. 

They'd just been a couple minutes away from Nick's cabin navigating their way through the darkness and apparently, he was already scared enough that he wanted to head back. Nick's cabin was where Charlie had met a few of Nick's mates, Otis, Sai, and Christain (all of whom seemed a lot nicer than Harry) who'd leant them each a flashlight for their undisclosed outdoor adventures. The two had thanked them, though, unfortunately, none of Nick's friend had brought along slime, honey, shaving cream, or any other items that had any potential prank qualities.

Charlie holds back a giggle at Nick's antics as they wade through the forest side by side, "Wasn't this your idea? And since when were rugby lads afraid of the dark?"

In all his years at Truham, he's perceived rugby lads to
be a lot of different things. Arrogant, homophobic, gym rats probably, who lived for aggressive sports and comparing testosterone levels or something. But after talking to Nick properly he'd realized that most definitely wasn't the case for all of them. In reality, Nick was a big softy who apparently didn't even sleep without a nightlight in his bedroom and the very thought of how wrong he'd been in his assumptions made him chuckle.

"Oi!" is Nick's only answer to that as Charlie snorts. He genuinely sounded terrified so Charlie decides to take it easy on him.

"What was that?" Nick shrieks all of a sudden pointing his flashlight at some shaking shrubbery on the side of the path. His nails dig impressively deep into Charlie's shoulder through his jumper fabric as the frightened boy holds onto him in fear. Seconds later a sleepy-looking rabbit pokes its head out of the berry bush. 

"Ah, yes, there's the terrifying beast," Charlie quips. 

Nick shakes his head with a shakey exhale. "It could have been a murderous raccoon with rabies or something, you know," he informs Charlie, fully serious.

"Or it could have been an innocent forest creature like a bunny for example," Charlie smiles nudging Nick with his shoulder, involuntarily setting off a chain reaction of agitated butterflies in his own stomach at the contact.

"Ha ha," he deadpans in response.

After what Nick claims was at least thirty minutes later but in reality was just about half that, they've arrived at their destination: Charlie's cabin. The plan was to sneak in, grab some supplies (shaving cream, silly string, and whatever other assortments of prank supplies his annoying Year 11 roommates had so generously supplied them with) then sneak out right across to Harry's own cabin where they would begin with a stealthy break-in.

Charlie's first thought after they had successfully dodged weeds, avoided poison ivy, and crawled through a literal window one by one was, Wow, Harry snored a lot.

Charlie had no idea if he was shaking from the fit of quiet snickers, being in only shorts and a jumper given the temperature outside, or the fact that he was just about to prank a Truham rugby lad filled with enough rage he could power a steamboat on that energy alone.

He feels a tap on his left shoulder – Nick beside him who gives an encouraging thumbs up. Translation: everyone was asleep and they were good to go. Charlie schools his rapid breathing but Nick's giddy eyes resolve the tension faster than his meditative breathing techniques ever could. Nick clearly had been holding a secret grudge against these lads for a while with all the excitement bubbling in him and Charlie wasn't the least bit embarrassed to say he found it a combination of amusing and adorable.

Harry's cabin is slightly bigger than either of theirs, meaning they were dealing with eight lads and four bunk beds. As Nick had informed him earlier, six out of eight of them (Harry Greene and Co.) were asshole rugby players. The other two of eight, (Kieran and Dennis) were apparently chill rugby players who they'd been set to avoid.

"They're in the bunk adjacent to the bathroom," Nick whispers. Charlie nods in acknowledgment now that they knew which bunk to avoid. Now for the hard part. Charlie glances at Nick who gives him an affirmative nod and passes him the shaving cream.

"Would you like to do the honours?" he asks waving his hand in a frilly over-the-top gesture. Charlie giggles softly in response, an airy sound he hasn't properly let out since the start of the cursed trip.

Well, maybe not so cursed after all.

"Are you sure?" Charlie asks as Nick passes him the can of shaving scream. 

"You've earned it more than I have. He's generally a dick to everyone but especially to you," Nick replies and when he notices Charlie's nervous glance at the snoring lad adds, "Go to town."

The can of shaving cream shakes in Charlie's hand. The two hold back snickers as Charlie carefully draws a line of the stuff under Harry's nose. Next to him, Nick has to clamp his hand over his mouth to keep from bursting into giggles. He was clearly enjoying this just as much as Charlie was.

There was something so satisfying about the tables being turned for once, for just one moment he allowed himself to imagine Harry waking up only to find someone had broken into his cabin to prank him. For once he'd be the one turning red in embarrassment and Charlie couldn't think of a sight that would be more pleasant to see than that. His lucky lucky bunkmates, Charlie shakes his head thinking to himself as he applies the last of the shaving cream to random spots across his face.

He had to remember to thank Nick for his brilliant idea when this was all over. 

He turns over, ready to make his way to the lad on the top bunk only to nearly crash into Nick standing up from the floor where he'd finished a near-perfect slime application job to the wooden floor on either side of Harry's bed. he narrowly avoids the slime, nearly tripping face first onto the hard floor, only Nick catches him first before he can fall.

He dusts himself off from nothing in particular just for something to do as he silently mouths the word, "Thanks." He hopes the crimson playing on his cheeks was invisible to Nick in the darkness.

But before Nick can get a reply out their heads snap to Harry, who's eyes were beginning to flutter open. Charlie realizes the sudden thudding sound must have woken him. He grips on tightly to Nick next to him as Harry jumps at the sight of other people in their cabin.

He stares straight ahead at them, fully sat up now and Charlie wonders briefly if he can even tell who they are in the darkness but as his face contorts into a look of shock he has his answer.

"Nelson?" he mutters so shaken he almost chokes on his own saliva, "And who-? Agh-!" he exclaims trying to piece together why there's shaving foam on his hands after rubbing his face in his still half-asleep state. 

"What the fuck," he mutters under his breath.

The two barely have time to swap proper glances.

"Run!" Nick whisper-shouts, grabbing Charlie by the shoulders and steering him first out of the cabin doors, and Charlie does exactly that. 

In the back they hear a thud and a yelp of surprise – Harry slipping on the slime – and Nick holds back a triumphant laugh at that. Charlie sprints like never before newfound energy thanks in part to the adrenaline of the break-in but more importantly, the fact that Nick was currently holding his hand. They sprint side by side into the woods as Harry and his goons call Nick's name into the darkness. Well, mostly Harry's mates, the boy himself much too stunned to properly form words.

Charlie feels like he should be more terrified of one of his many high school bullies, but it's tough to fall back into that frame of mind with Nick at his side, muffled snickers, and a hand clamped over his mouth holding back his fit of giggles. Charlie soon follows suit finding it more and more difficult to not burst into laughter right there and then.

Suddenly, a Harry-shaped figure looms closer and closer to the edges of the forest, and the two freeze. They each do their best to remain still, very obviously chest-to-chest while hidden by the shade of the tree, surrounded by nothing but darkness and distant rays of flashlights held by the rugby lads that were now circling the perimeter of Harry's cabin. And it takes Charlie a second to properly register it, but Nick's hand is now over Charlie's mouth - the boy's other one resting on the trunk of the birch - inadvertently pinning him to the tree as his eyes search the darkness. 

"I- Sorry-" Nick stutters quietly as he removes his hand suddenly. Charlie has to actively remind himself that Nick's heavy breathing was because of their sprinting, and for no other reason.

"Nick, mate! What the hell? Was that you?" Harry calls into the wilderness as footsteps loom closer. Charlie stares up at Nick who doesn't advert his gaze from where it was fixed on the distant cabin and the year 11-shaped shadows pouring out of it. Charlie holds his breath in preparation for some sort of confrontation. Any second now Harry would spot them and chaos would ensue. Questions would arise, accusations, and somehow Charlie knew the blame would land on his shoulders. He trusted Nick, but he didn't trust Harry. Who knew what sort of rumours he'd spin just to get back at Charlie? 

He exhales a puff of air, a cloud of condensation visible between him and Nick from the distorted glow of the flashlight pointed their way. The crunching of the leaves was getting louder, as was his heartbeat. With Harry just three easy steps away, Charlie's frozen, racking his mind for ways to play this when-

Charlie holds back a strangled noise.

In a heartbeat, Nick's lips are on his. Once reality catches up to him he realizes that Nick had leaned in, stepped out of the shadows, and pulled Charlie's face to his own to start full-on kissing him. Right there in front of three very startled-looking rugby lads.

Charlie had to be dreaming.

There was no way–

"Nichol-" Harry stands in the glow of the flashlights held by the two lads behind him, his own dropped smack on the floor. 

Charlie braces himself for some sort of confrontation but Nick makes no sign of having heard him, only pulling Charlie closer. Charlie sighs contently, digging his fingers deeper through Nick's hair. It really was difficult to care much about their impromptu audience when kissing Nick just felt so freeing. 

Nick's lips felt warm against his own and the electricity coursing through his veins was like nothing he'd ever felt before. He hugs Nick tighter, gripping onto him with every fibre of his being as Nick moves to pin him gently against the back of the pine. 

It feels like somewhat of a delayed reaction but his brain seemed to have finally caught up to it all and—

Holy fuck Nick Nelson was kissing him. A lot.

And Charlie clearly wasn't the only one who'd realized that right there and then. A shocked trio of rugby lads including Harry walk away, still practically sputtering at the side of the two of them snogging in the woods.

Once they're gone Nick backs away slowly, dazed look still glued to his face. Charlie's almost certain he looks that same amount of dumbstruck right now.

"Is- was that okay?" Nick breathes shakily still holding onto Charlie's star-struck face. “I'm sorry I just..." Charlie dares to look at the rugby lads only to be met with a completely empty bed of grass, hearing the door to the cabin shut with an uncharacteristically quiet thud. 

There it was. The rest of his sentences are drowned out by Charlie's thoughts looming overhead like darkened storm clouds. A sick feeling settles in his gut.

He didn't kiss you because he likes you, idiot. 

It was just an escape strategy. 

He's straight.

Deep down he's known the aftermath would be waiting there to wack him over the back of the head with all the subtly of an airborne boulder.

"You saw them coming over– ? Yeah, I get it." He really didn't. "It's totally fine." No, it wasn't.

Kissing the gay boy for a laugh, the ultimate means of misdirection because how laughable it was for the two of them to ever seriously be with each other like that.

Because for some reason Charlie actually imagined him and Nick together. Some sad, insanely detached-from-the-world part of him had actually seen them being together for just a second. It had flashed before his mind in that kiss and while he had been stuck trying to navigate his way back to that cotton candy bliss, really he should have reminded himself to snap out of it before the ground under him faded and he was left freefalling into the dark abyss. 

"No, wait, Charlie I– "

But Charlie can barely hear Nick's words behind him as he turns and starts to find his way back to his own cabin through the trail. The trail that would leave him to his safe, warm-ish bed in the middle of this goddamn forest where he would mope and sob, probably, no matter how many times he tried to convince himself to not start crying the tears would just start falling. He almost tasted the saltwater already, unless, wait, no, he was crying. Already. Here. Now. Of course.

A hand grabs onto his arm so suddenly in the midst of the darkness he can't help but let out a small yell that was about to turn into a full borderline scream until he was met with Nick's shining nervous eyes.

"Charlie," he breathes working both his uncharacteristically shakey hands up Charlie's arms. the way his fingers swept up Charlie's arms left a trail of goosebumps even under his jumper. he leans into the touch.

"That wasn't– "

He shakes his head trying again, "Shit, I shouldn’t have– I did genuinely want to..." the rest is silence.

Something like a small warm fire lights up in Charlie’s heart. A flicker of hope.

"Kiss me?" Charlie fills the silence with a stupid amount of eagerness in his voice because maybe, just maybe this wasn't a joke. Maybe the universe didn't hate him. Maybe he did deserve just one good thing in the sea of bad. One really fucking good, beautiful, handsome thing just for himself.

"You wanted to kiss me?" he repeats again mostly for himself, fully incapable of masking the shock in his voice.

"Yeah... " Nick breathes, eyes darting left and right nervously, just left and right. Charlie's eyes fall down to his lips and he finds himself leaning in with a small cautious smile. "Can… can I? Kiss you, I mean. You don't have to if you don't want to," he asks, breath hitching involuntarily as he tries the words on for size, stopping himself from reaching out again before he gets a proper reply.

And the look in Nick’s eyes, how his freckles were illuminated slightly by the moonlight, the slight part of his lips it was all he’d ever wanted and more.

"Please," Charlie breathes out, and it's there, raw on display – there's so much want in his voice and Nick doesn't wait another second until he crashes their lips together.

And if the first kiss was heaven the second was something else entirely in the best way possible. Nick kisses him gently, his lips feeling warm against Charlie's own. There was so much care in it, nothing like what he was used to. The boy rests his hands on Charlie’s waist, pulling him in as Charlie grabs a hold of his jumper. 

He doesn't quite remember how long they stood there in each other's arms – as he'd soon go on to learn time had this funny way of being whenever he was around Nick. Slowed like they were the only two people in the whole world but if you didn't take the time to savour it, it would pass by in the blink of an eye. No matter how long or short it felt in the moment, it never quite seemed to be enough.

He's not quite sure what happened to Harry and his rugby lads after that but they left him alone for the rest of the trip, much too shocked to face either him or Nick and they were both thankful for it. 

The lads in Charlie's cabin would frequently sneak out to the girls' camp past curfew often leaving Charlie alone in his bunk until morning when they'd all arrive back at precisely 7 a.m. Nick would make up some dumb excuse in front of Otis, Sai, and Christain then sneak out to meet at Charlie's. Charlie would applaud him for his bravery and success in navigating all those wild animals he was convinced were still out to get him.

They'd stay up all night, just the two of them laughing and talking, side by side cuddled up in Charlie's top bunk much too small for the both of them but they didn't really mind. 

In two months time back a Truham, Nick will have sorted himself out. Bisexual, he decides is the most accurate label for him, and Charlie couldn't be prouder of his boyfriend. In three months time, the two will properly come out as a couple, despite camp rumors already having spread through Truham like wildfire many weeks prior. Not that the speculation bothered either of them – they’d been much too taken with each other to care much for the gossip anyway. 

Charlie's friends will be shocked when the news eventually comes out – well, Tao and Elle will be. Charlie always suspected that Isaac knew all along.

And the funniest thing about it to Charlie will always be the fact that even all those years later when they’re watching television cuddled up together under their shared blanket in their apartment, how it was that one weird-ass camping trip brought them to each other when they’d both least expected it.

One that’d involved copious amounts of hiking, homophobic teen boys, and him running into a specific golden retriever rugby lad who had been (and still was to this day) afraid of the dark.