Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Moving sucked. It sucked every single time. He thought by now he’d be used to it, but that empty feeling hit him every time—especially once he looked at his bedroom. Boxes labeled with his things were stacked in the dusty, hollow room. Ironically, none of the stuff in the boxes even felt like his. It either belonged to his parents or was brand new. Nothing was truly his.

He ran his hand along the windowsill, watching dust gather on his fingertips. The curtain was thin, like tissue paper, and Nick momentarily questioned its purpose before looking outside at his new neighborhood. It looked like every other one they’d lived in—nothing special. Things usually looked more magical at night. The warm lights from inside houses, peeking through gaps in curtains, gave everything a cozy glow. But not here. Nothing gave him the impression this was the neighborhood they’d stay in forever, despite the promise. What did look promising, however, was the drainpipe and lattice frames directly beneath his window.

A soft knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. “What do you think?” his mom asked, popping her head around the door before inviting herself in. Nick just shrugged, still staring out the window at nothing in particular.

“Look, I know it’s hard, but can you at least try to act like you love it? It’ll put your father at ease.”

Nick turned to face her, expressionless.“What does he do to help me feel at ease?”

“Don’t be like that, Nick. Come on.”

They both knew this conversation inside and out. They had it every time they moved. But Nick’s enthusiasm dwindled with each move, and his mom’s patience wore thinner.

“There’s a lot more space than your old room. You’ll have room for your gaming setup—”

“It’s fine! Alright? It’s a room. It has walls and a door. It’s fine.” He hadn’t meant to snap, but her lack of understanding was always irritating.

“You don’t have to yell. What have I told you about yelling?” she scolded, folding her arms tightly across her chest.

“I’m not yelling! I’m just annoyed that you don’t consider how I’m feeling! You just want me to act all happy!”

“I don’t want you to act happy. I know this is hard for you, but—”

“You just told me to act like I liked it. To please Dad!”

“Your brother is taking it well—why can’t you? There always has to be a problem with something.”

“He’s ten. He doesn’t fully understand it yet.”

“I don’t want to fight with you. Not again. I’m sick of this behavior. Your dad is sacrificing so much to give us this life—you could be a little more appreciative.” She folded her arms even tighter, like she was trying to squeeze the frustration out of herself.

“Maybe I’m tired because we’ve been traveling for eight hours and we got here in the middle of the night,” Nick muttered after a pause. She sighed heavily and left without another word.

He didn’t want to be a dick—but he was fed up. Of course his brother was fine. Ten-year-olds were great at making friends—well, at least Toby was. Nick wasn’t sure if he had ever been like that. The way Toby adapted was something Nick was always a little jealous of, even though he knew it was just because Toby was still young. Nick was young too, but he felt like some grumpy old man who just wanted to be left alone and hated society and everyone in it. He swiped at the dust again, crumbling it between his fingers. He wondered if he’d be here long enough to see it resettle. That thought alone made him feel sick. He needed air.

The window slid up easily, giving him plenty of room to slip out silently. The wooden lattice was surprisingly sturdy and quiet for such an old house, but Nick wasn’t going to complain. His previous houses were nearly impossible to escape from. This one? Almost too easy. He reached the ground unscathed, feeling like Rapunzel from Tangled getting her first taste of freedom. A loud thump from beside him, followed by a groan, made him jump. He turned to see a guy sprawled on the grass with an open window behind him. Nick just stood there, unsure what to do.

“You okay?” he asked after a beat.

“Oh yeah, I’m totally fine after falling out a fucking window,” the guy groaned, laying his head back in the grass.

“Good. At least you’re not hurt.” Nick smirked and started to walk away.

“Wait…”

“Yes?”

“Can you help me up? I think my ribs are broken,” he groaned, holding out a hand.

“Say please,” Nick said, folding his arms.

“Dude, I’m about to die. Are you kidding me?” Nick shook his head, barely hiding a smile.

“Fine. Please can you help me up?” “Nah,” Nick said with a shrug.

“I will scream. I will scream so loud your mom will come out and see you snuck out.” Nick had never moved so fast. He hauled the guy up instantly, and surprisingly, he was lighter than he thought. Which was a bonus alongside the fact that there were no complaints. “Thank you, new neighbor,” the guy beamed, brushing off his jeans. Nick was surprised his ribs actually weren’t broken—he’d fallen from quite a height.

“If you’re planning on sneaking out in the future, you should be more careful.”

“Yes, Mom, I will,” he said with a mock salute before holding out his hand. “I’m Karl, by the way. Nice to meet you.”

Nick gave him a blank look, scrunching his brows. Chipped black nail polish covered Karl’s fingertips—something Nick had always been curious about but never confident enough to try.

“Nick,” he replied, keeping his hands buried in his hoodie pocket.

Karl raised his hands jokingly. “Not a hand-shaker. Got it.” He chuckled and mirrored Nick’s stoic posture. “Do you smile? Ever?” Nick rolled his eyes. They’d been talking for five seconds and Karl was already judging him.

“Do you always fall out of windows when meeting new people?”

“You haven't heard? That's the new handshake, you’re in luck”

“You’re annoying.”

“I get that a lot.” Before Karl could say more, the sound of a key turning in the front door made Nick’s heart drop. He bolted to the side of the house, hiding fast. His mom opened the door, eyeing Karl with suspicion.

“I thought I heard voices out here. Can I help you?” Karl froze, realizing how odd this must have looked—him standing alone on someone’s lawn.

“Hi! Yes. Nice to meet you.” He smiled awkwardly. “I’m Karl—I live next door. I was just on my way to a party and wondered if your daughter wanted to come? You know, make some friends? Moving somewhere new is hard. I thought it might be nice.”

“I don’t have a daughter. I have a son,” she replied, folding her arms.

“Oh! I’m so sorry—that’s my mistake. I just saw a glimpse and thought… my bad. I’m really sorry.” Nick’s mouth fell open behind the wall. He couldn’t believe the cheap shot Karl had just thrown. But at the same time he was torn between irritation and the tiniest spark of admiration. Karl had the kind of boldness he’d never been able to master. Maybe that’s why he hated him already.

“I appreciate the offer, but it’s late. We just got here. I don’t think he wants to party with strangers.”

“That’s totally fine. I understand.”

She started to close the door, then paused. “Do you go to King’s College?”

“As a matter of fact, I do,” Karl replied, grinning. He tried to spot where Nick was hiding, but couldn’t see him. “It might do him some good to meet people before he starts there. Why the hell not?” she said, smiling.

“That’s great! Do you want to check with him first? I don’t want to make him uncomfortable.”

“I’ll be right back,” she beamed, closing the door. Karl watched in amusement as Nick scrambled up his lattice like a wet cat, just in time for his mom to enter the room. A few minutes later, she came back out. “He’s not interested. I really tried to persuade him, but he doesn’t want to go. I think once he’s settled, he’ll come around.”

Karl sighed dramatically. “Never mind. I’ll try again next time.”

“Thank you, darling. Have a good night,” she said, closing the door for good. Karl looked up at Nick’s bedroom window—just in time to see Nick flip him off before slamming the window shut.

Nick flopped onto his bed, heart still pounding. First night, first mistake. And already, a neighbor who knew his face — and maybe more than that.

His mom came in again. “I really hope you try to be friends with him. He seems like a very nice boy,” she said, blowing a kiss into the air. He seems like a complete dick, Nick thought to himself.

Chapter Text

Nick flipped him off.

That was the last thing Karl saw before the window slammed shut like a slap in the face. Dramatic exit and all. He’d laughed about it the night before, told his friends he’d “met the grumpy emo Rapunzel wannabe next door.” But if he was being honest, he kept thinking about it way longer than he should’ve.

He didn’t mean to spy this morning—it just so happened the hallway window had the perfect angle. There was Nick, trudging toward school, hood up, headphones in, dressed in as much color as a funeral procession.

“Look who’s alive,” Karl muttered to himself, sipping his orange juice with a crooked grin.

“Karl! You’re gonna be late—again!” his mom shouted from downstairs.

He glanced at the dead digital clock on his nightstand. Still blinking 12:00. Right. Forgot to change the batteries. Again.

“I’m coming!” he called back.

He caught himself in the mirror on the way out. Hoodie. Jeans. Painted nails already chipped. He tugged at the sleeves, then smoothed his hair, then tugged again.

There were mornings he liked how he looked—confident, different, kind of cool. This wasn’t one of those mornings. He looked like someone trying to be someone.

He stared a little longer than usual.

Most people thought Karl was outgoing because he was confident. That wasn’t it. It was just easier to be loud than to feel invisible. Easier to be funny than honest. Even with his friends—maybe especially with them—there were parts of himself he kept packed away like old homework. Unnecessary. Too much.

He rubbed his sleeve down to cover the edge of his chipped nail polish and turned away before he could overthink it. There was no time to change anything.

His mom’s footsteps on the stairs got him moving faster than Nick had slammed that window. Scuffed Converse, one untied, thudded down the stairs as he zipped past her before she could comment on how he’d skipped breakfast. Again.

School was exactly how he’d left it: loud, fluorescent, and full of people pretending they weren’t exhausted. Karl didn’t hate it. Not really. He just never knew where he fit. He drifted between friend groups like a loose satellite—funny enough to be welcomed, chill enough to be liked, but never quite... grounded. Secure.

“Math with Mr. Franklin,” Karl groaned, throwing himself into a beanbag like it had personally wronged him.

“You think that’s bad?” Alex slumped beside him. “I’ve got Miss Steele for Geography. She wants me dead.”

“She wants you quiet,” Karl grinned. “You interrupt every single class.”

“She should be more entertaining, then.”

Karl chuckled. “Fair.”

Alex squinted at his schedule. “Do we have any classes together?”

Karl leaned over. “Nope. Bummer.”

“Guess you’ll just have to corrupt someone else today.”

They exchanged a glance that held… something. Not tension exactly. Not nothing either.

A voice cut through the corridor. “What’s up, nerds?”

George strolled in, doughnut box in hand. He dropped onto the beanbag next to them and offered it around.

“It’s eight in the morning,” Alex said, eyeing the box.

“Which means it’s time for breakfast.”

Karl waved it away almost immediately. “I’m stuffed. Big breakfast.” The lie passed. The knot in his stomach didn’t.

“I’m just grabbing something from my locker,” he said quickly.

Karl didn’t even know where his locker was. He’d forgotten the code last year and never fixed it. He wandered the halls, waved off another group of friends offering food, and debated going to the office—until he saw Nick. He was standing like a glitch in the hallway—completely still while everyone else blurred around him.

Karl cupped a hand to his mouth. “Hey, neighbor!” Nick didn’t flinch. Just walked off like Karl didn’t exist.

Karl blinked. “Okay… rude.”

Was he really that annoying? Suddenly it was really warm, and everything felt tight. Why did he do that? Before the thoughts began spiralling he decided to head to his next class…

They had math together. Karl had forgotten until Nick slipped silently into the room and took a seat one row ahead. No eye contact. No acknowledgment. Just slumped into the desk like it offended him.

Mr. Franklin shuffled in moments later with a coffee and the expression of someone already questioning his life choices.

“All right, everyone, settle down. Please get out your homework I set you and we’ll begin”

The class groaned in unison but bag zips could be heard.

“Karl, what did you get for number four?” Mr. Franklin called out, he’d barely had a chance to look at what he wrote. Oh yeah, he’d wrote nothing.

Karl leaned back in his chair. “No clue.”

“I didn’t ask if you knew. I asked what you got .”

“I got nothing.”

“Nothing isn’t an answer.”

“Well, then… two?”

A few kids laughed. The answer was definitely not two. It was algebra or something equally cursed.

Nick didn’t laugh. Of course not.

Later, when the teacher asked about fractions and Karl spit out something halfway wrong, he heard a soft voice in front of him: “It’s five-sixths.”

Karl leaned forward slightly. “Say it louder next time, Einstein.”

Nick’s eyes flicked up just long enough to glare holes through him, then dropped again.

Karl grinned to himself. Progress.

Midway through class, Karl’s stomach made a noise loud enough to qualify as an instrument. He dug through his backpack, pulled out gum, and unwrapped a piece. Bored, he balled up the wrapper and aimed it at Ellie, who usually egged him on during class.

He missed. It hit Nick’s chair.

Nick turned. Calmly. Picked it up. And launched it back at Karl’s head with great precision. Karl yelped. The class snorted. Mr. Franklin didn’t.

“Mr. Jacobs,” the teacher barked. “And…you.” He squinted. “Name?”

“Armstrong,” Nick muttered.

“Detention. Both of you. After school.”

Karl stood and mock-bowed. “An honour, sir.

Nick didn’t react. Didn’t blink. Just turned back to his desk like Karl wasn’t worth the effort. Detention on the first day wasn't quite what he had planned but still, Karl couldn’t stop smiling.

This was getting interesting

Chapter Text

The detention room smelled like old whiteboard markers and someone’s forgotten tuna sandwich. The walls were a washed-out shade of yellow that looked even worse under the flickering overhead lights. Sort of like Nick’s new bedroom. It was the kind of room where time dragged its feet and you wanted to be anywhere else.

Karl slumped in a seat near the back, limbs loose with exhaustion. His head tipped back against the wall. He didn’t even bother trying to look cool. He didn’t have the energy.

Nick was secretly thankful as he sat quiet and contained, hoping this meant he would leave him alone. He sat two rows away, arms folded, earbuds in again. His favourite black hoodie was pulled halfway over his face. He hadn’t even glanced up when Karl walked in. And he didn’t say anything. For once.

Nick glanced up again and got a proper look, maybe his eyes were deceiving him.

Karl looked kind of different like that. Quiet. Folded in on himself. His usual brightness dialled way, way down. He looked back at his desk. Then — as if catching himself — kept looking at his desk. Because caring would mean showing it and showing it would give Karl satisfaction. And Karl didn’t deserve that. Not yet.

A few more kids trickled in. One of them — a girl with pink headphones and a lopsided ponytail — tossed Karl a grin as she flopped into the chair next to him.

“Detention twins again?” she asked brightly.

Karl blinked. “Oh. Yeah. I guess I have a habit.”

Another kid — someone from his science class — dropped into the seat on his other side and nudged him with a friendly elbow. “What’d you do this time?”

“Assault by gum wrapper,” Karl deadpanned. “It was brutal. He didn’t make it.”

They laughed. Karl smiled, tired but genuine. The kind that made people lean in, even when he wasn’t trying.

Nick didn’t turn around, but he heard all of it. Every word. Every laugh. And the silence between him and Karl only deepened.

The teacher on duty, Mr Ashby — a substitute with a moustache that looked like it had been drawn on in Sharpie — cleared his throat and took roll call.

“Jacobs.”

Karl raised a hand without lifting his head.

“Armstrong.” Nick didn’t move. He just gave a curt nod, eyes still on the scratched-up desk in front of him.

“Smith”

“Present” the girl grinned, exchanging a glance with Karl.

“And Davids” The other boy just nodded.

“All right,” Ashby sighed, already sounding like he regretted his career.

“I’m disappointed that there are people here on our first day back. You know the drill. Sit. Work. Don’t talk. We’re here for the next forty-five minutes, and I don’t want to hear a sound unless you’re dying or on fire.”

Karl snorted. Quietly.

The silence that followed was heavy. Not awkward, exactly. Just… heavy. Like everyone had agreed to let the room settle into a low-grade boredom.

The girl from earlier — the one with the ponytail and pink headphones — pulled a notebook from her bag and passed Karl a page from it. Doodled in Sharpie was a series of cartoons: one of a stick figure teacher screaming, another of a gum wrapper turned ninja star. She’d even drawn a version of Karl with wide eyes and dramatic Xs over his face.

Karl smiled faintly and took her pen to add an arrow to the wrapper: “Cause of Death.”

They passed it back and forth for a while, snickering quietly. Karl’s laughter was soft, not the usual booming kind. Worn thin at the edges.

Nick kept his head down, pretending not to notice. But he was aware. Of every sound Karl made. Of how Karl wasn’t bouncing off the walls like he had in math class. He kept thinking Karl would say something. Make a joke. Toss him another jab.

But he didn’t.

Not once.

And for some reason, that was more annoying.

Nick shifted in his seat. Rested his cheek on one hand and pretended to reread the same paragraph over and over. It wasn’t even an assigned task. Just something to make the time go faster so he could do the same thing but at his own house.

He wasn’t used to silence feeling this loud, his day had been filled with constant chatter from Karl.

Karl rubbed his stomach once. Subtle, but not to Nick’s eyes. He hadn’t eaten — Nick was sure of it now. And for all the noise Karl made, he was running on nothing.

A small, unwanted part of Nick wanted to offer him the crumbled granola bar at the bottom of his bag. But his pride got there first.

Let him be tired, he told himself. Let him not talk for once. It’s kind of peaceful.

But peaceful didn’t mean easy.

From the corner of his eye, Nick saw Karl lean forward, resting his arms on the desk like even holding his head up was a task. He didn’t look like someone pretending to be chill. He looked… small. Just for a second.

Not weak. Not pathetic. Just real.

It made Nick’s chest do a weird, uncomfortable shift — like a door creaking open that he didn’t mean to unlock. He hated how much of the 45 minutes he’d spent staring at Karl.

“Time,” Mr. Ashby called, standing abruptly. “Go. You’re all free to resume being a menace to society or whatever you kids say nowadays”

Chairs scraped. Bags zipped. Everyone moved. Except Karl.

He stood slowly, like it took effort, slinging his bag over one shoulder. The strap almost slipped, and he didn’t bother fixing it. As he passed Nick’s desk, he didn’t say a word. No smirk. No joke. No obnoxious wink.

Just walked past. Quiet.

Nick blinked.

It felt… wrong. Like someone had turned down the colour on something he didn’t realize had been in technicolour before.

The silence he’d wanted wasn’t as satisfying as he thought it’d be.

Chapter Text

Karl couldn’t remember the last time he woke up feeling rested. But somehow, this morning, he was already smiling before he even got out of bed. The trick was always the same: forget the tiredness, the hunger, the ache in his joints from curling in too tight. Just start the show.

He rubbed his eyes, blinked at the dusty ceiling, then pushed himself upright. His head spun a little, but he smiled through it. The same way he always did.

He’d nailed it yesterday—dodged any real conversation in detention, stayed quiet enough that no one asked questions. Nick hadn’t said a single word to him, and that was fine. Probably better. Karl didn’t have the energy for banter when his stomach was tying itself in knots. But today? Today was a new day. He was going to be the version of himself everyone expected. Bright, bouncy, easy and oh-so annoying. His friends were immune to his antics at this point so going to somebody as miserable as Nick was the highlight of his day.

He threw open his closet and picked the loudest hoodie he owned—bright purple with some ironic cartoon print—and pulled it over his head. Sleeves tugged just right, nails repainted messily at midnight. He’d peeled them again in the dark, a habit he couldn’t seem to break. He stared at his reflection in the mirror for a beat longer than usual.

Sometimes, the mirror felt like a test. Who was he performing for? His friends? His parents? Himself?

He adjusted his hoodie. Tightened the drawstring. Smiled.

There. That was the version of him people liked.

He skipped breakfast easily. His mom offered toast half-heartedly, but he kissed her on the cheek and made some joke about intermittent fasting. She laughed, said he was weird, and left it at that. That’s what Karl loved about being funny —nobody ever asked why.

At school, he bounced into the corridor like he’d slept twelve hours. He made rounds: a slap on George’s shoulder, a spin move into Alex’s side hug, a twirl through the group’s usual corner in the hall.

But his eyes were elsewhere.

Nick stood near his locker, shoulders hunched, as if he was trying to fold himself into the wall. He didn’t look any more approachable than he had the day before, but there was something in the way he watched people—like he was paying attention even when he didn’t want to be.

Karl caught his eye for half a second and gave him a nod. Not a smile. Not a wave. Just a flick of recognition. A small invitation if he wanted it.

Nick didn’t return it. Of course not. Karl grinned to himself. Somehow, that made him want to pester him more, making him sneak back into his own bedroom clearly wasn’t enough.

By lunch, the hunger pangs were screaming again. He followed his friends to the cafeteria, made jokes about the food like usual, and waved away every offer to share. Said he had food poisoning once from school pizza and it scarred him for life. Alex rolled his eyes but didn’t press. Thankfully never did.

Karl sat with his tray empty, leaned back in his chair, and acted like he was full of energy. He was lightheaded, but it made everything feel just a little floaty. Detached. He liked that feeling. It felt like control. Like flying.

After school, when the final bell rang, Karl spotted Nick leaving class alone. He considered catching up, but something held him back. He didn't want to come off too eager. Not when Nick barely tolerated him.

Still, as he packed up his things and laughed with George about their group chat being cursed, he kept checking for that dark hoodie in the crowd.

Nick was just about to head out the school gates when Karl jogged a few steps to catch up—not close enough to walk together, but close enough to be noticed.

Nick didn’t look over.

That was fine. Karl didn’t need attention to feel okay.

Except—he kind of did.

Later that night, Karl lay in bed, scrolling through his messages. His stomach growled, but he ignored it. His mom had knocked once to offer dinner, but he said he’d already eaten. The lie came too easily.

He stared at Nick’s note:

‘If you ever fall out a window again, don’t scream. My mom has great hearing’ and his phone number was scrawled underneath.

His conversation skills were exactly like his handwriting. Not great. This was the last thing Karl was expecting. Nick barely spoke, barely looked at him. But something about that silence felt like an unwritten friendship. Like even though Karl was being incredibly annoying, Nick never seemed too irritated by him.

He hovered over the keyboard, thought for a moment, then typed:

“I fell out the window again.”

He hit send before he could overthink it.

And then he smiled, just a little, into the dark.

Chapter Text

Nick’s headphones weren’t even playing anything. They were just in, like a “do not disturb” sign for his face. His hands were stuffed deep in his hoodie pocket, nails pressed into the soft lining to keep himself grounded. The day had been a blur of static noise, too-loud halls, and teachers who didn’t seem to notice how little he cared to be there.

He hit play on some ambient playlist he barely listened to. It was mostly for background noise—so he didn’t have to hear himself think, thinking was bad.

But he did anyway. Of course the music did nothing help.

The day had dragged like wet cement. Every class felt like he was playing catch-up in a race he didn’t want to be in. Teachers barely acknowledged him. Students stared too long or didn’t at all. Nobody spoke to him—except Karl.

Of course, Karl did.

Nick hated how much he remembered the sound of Karl’s voice yelling, “Hey, neighbour!” down the hallway. He’d ignored it on purpose. He’d thought it’d feel good to do that. Power move. Stay detached.

But Karl continued bothering him in classes, and he was definitely warming to it.

He didn’t hear Karl until he was already beside him, matching his pace as it had been planned.

“Hey, neighbour,” Karl said, cheerful and far too awake for a Thursday afternoon.

Nick didn’t respond at first. Just glanced sideways, considering ignoring him completely.

Karl kept talking anyway. “Your resting murder face is impressive, by the way. You’d win gold if that were an Olympic event.”

Nick exhaled a breath that wasn’t quite a laugh. “Did you follow me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Karl said, grinning. “I just happen to live next door and I just happen to take the exact same route home. Total coincidence.”

Nick shot him a sceptical look.

Karl kicked a pebble ahead of them and watched it skitter across the pavement. “You always this quiet, or am I special?”

“I’m just tired.”

“From what, blinking?”

Nick’s lips twitched. It was almost a smile, but he stopped it before it could fully form. Karl noticed anyway and tried to hide his own.

“You know,” Karl continued, pretending to inspect a nearby hedge like it was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen, “I was gonna invite you to dinner. My mom’s making lasagna. But if you’d rather go home and stare at your ceiling, I totally respect that.”

Nick hesitated. “I don’t really do... dinners.”

Karl nodded like he understood like he didn’t take it personally. “Fair. I don’t either, most of the time.”

Nick didn’t ask what that meant, though he kind of wanted to.

They walked a bit longer in silence. Not awkward, just quiet. Something about Karl’s presence was oddly grounding, even though Nick was still wrapped up in that dull fog he couldn't quite shake. It was the first time all day he hadn’t felt like disappearing completely.

His mind paced with shitty conversation starters, what the fuck was he supposed to say? He wanted to make a conscious effort to at least try because, for some unknown reason, this boy wouldn't leave him alone.

Karl was trying. More than anyone ever had, and Nick had slammed a window in his face and ignored him since day one. That was scary to Nick. But He knew how this went, people got fed up with the mysterious act and eventually, he'd go back to having nobody again. 

At the corner, they stopped.

“I guess this is your part of the walk,” Karl said, tipping an invisible hat.

“Thanks,” Nick mumbled.

“For what?”

Nick shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Karl looked at him for a moment like he wanted to say something more, but instead just dug into his pocket and pulled out his phone. “Here.”

Nick blinked. “What?”

“Do you know how to text someone? I know you’re not a talker, but texting’s like... anti-talking. You might like it. Considering you did give me your number”

Nick pressed his lips together, remembering the text message he'd been purposely ignoring.

“I’m sorry… I'm not good at making friends” Nick admitted, getting that sentence out was like dragging his foot through wet cement, no different to his entire day so far.

“Neither am I,” Karl said. “But it sucks having nobody. How about this? I’ll think of something deeply stupid to text you later and you actually respond?”

“Looking forward to it.”

“Don’t lie, it doesn’t suit you.” he winked before walking away.

Later That Night:

Nick lay in bed, staring at the dark ceiling, phone buzzing quietly.

Karl [9:48 PM]: I fell out of the window again. 3/10 landing. Grass is unforgiving.

Nick stared at the screen. Smiled.

Nick [9:49 PM]:
Next time tuck and roll. Rookie mistake.

Karl [9:49]:                                                          I’ll have to get some practice getting in and out of windows won't I?

He read that text in Karl’s voice, a tint of confidence followed by a head tilt. His chest felt weird when he thought about that.

Nick [9:51]:                                                                     Stay away from my window, Mister

Chapter Text

Nick had barely spoken all day.

Not because he didn’t have the words—just that they didn’t seem to matter. Everything felt too big too loud and too far away. His limbs were heavy, his thoughts even heavier. He drifted between classes like smoke, silent and unnoticed, not quite part of anything around him.

By lunch, the tightness in his chest had become a kind of white noise. He sat outside near the edge of the courtyard wall, knees pulled up, headphones in with no music playing. It was easier that way—easier to let people think he was preoccupied than admit he didn’t want to be part of anything.

He watched people move in clusters, animated and warm in the spring sunlight. His own sandwich sat untouched beside him in his bag, the plastic wrap slightly fogged. He wasn’t hungry. He was never hungry when he felt like this. It was like his body shut off any signal that wasn’t: stay invisible. It felt like a shadow following him constantly, something that’s always there, that you can never outrun. Some days you’ll barely notice it, others it’ll be right behind you.

So when a real shadow fell over the grass in front of him, Nick tensed instinctively. Someone was close.

Karl.

Nick looked up, squinting against the light. Karl stood in his usual dishevelled confidence—hands shoved into the pocket of his hoodie, scuffed Converse, chipped nail polish on his fingers. His expression was bright but hesitant like he wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing there. His hair looked a little fluffier than usual. It was cute.

“Hey,” Karl said, with a grin that looked a little softer than usual. “You wanna come sit with us?”

Nick blinked. “…Why?”

Karl shrugged, glancing over his shoulder toward a tree where his friends were laughing and eating. “Because I asked? Because I’m charming and you seem miserable and that’s a combination that’s super fun”

Nick hesitated. His instinct was to say no . Always no . But something stopped him this time.

He looked toward the group—Alex was there, lounging in the grass like he was posing for a movie still. Ellie was talking with her hands. Someone else Nick didn’t know was passing around chips. They looked like a real group. Easy, loud, unafraid.

“I don’t really…” he started, but the words faded.

“Don’t think about it too hard,” Karl said, already turning away. “Just follow me.”

Nick stared after him for a second. Then, almost without thinking, he got up. His internal monologue spun like a beacon.

It was awkward at first. Not in a hostile way—just… off. Nick stood on the edge of the circle, hands stuffed in his pockets, shoulders curled in like he was trying to seem as uninvolved as possible. Karl didn’t force him in, but he did glance back now and then like he was making sure Nick hadn’t bolted.

Alex greeted him with a casual nod. Ellie offered him half a brownie and didn’t flinch when he refused. Someone made a joke about Mr. Franklin’s math homework being classified as government code. Nick didn’t laugh—but he smirked.

And slowly, it got easier. It was like he had always been there.

Karl was louder than he needed to be. Laughing at everything. Touching shoulders. Throwing wadded-up napkins at Alex, who flicked them back without even blinking. It was a performance, but not in a bad way. Karl knew how to keep attention. How to make space for other people by filling up the gaps himself.

Nick caught himself watching too long. Karl turned and grinned at him mid-sentence, and Nick looked away quickly.

Then—almost by accident—Nick said something.

Alex had just commented on the smell of the cafeteria being “biologically suspicious,” and Nick, under his breath, muttered, “It’s because the meat’s been dead since 1994.”

Alex laughed so hard he nearly choked.

“Okay Mr Quiet’s  got jokes!” he gasped.

Nick blinked. The group turned toward him, grinning, and for the first time that day, he didn’t feel like an extra in someone else’s story.

Karl was still watching him.

There was something different in the way Karl looked at him now. Less teasing. More curiosity, maybe even intrigue or empathy. Like he was trying to figure out who Nick really was under all that silence. Though it was hard to tell what Karl was really feeling.

And then Alex leaned against Karl, casually—shoulder to shoulder, easy. Karl didn’t flinch. He just smiled at whatever Alex was saying, and laughed again resting a head on his shoulder.

Nick looked away. He wasn’t sure why it bothered him. He didn’t know Karl. Not really. But the weight in his stomach shifted. Twisted. He didn’t want to think about what that meant.

The bell rang.

They got up. The moment dissolved.

That night, Nick couldn’t sleep.

He lay on his bed, staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars Toby had insisted they stick to the ceiling. He could hear Toby humming softly through the thin wall. The quiet of the house was familiar, but not comforting.

He picked up his phone.

No new messages.

Then as if right on cue, buzz.

Karl [9:36 PM]:
I feel like you were a different person today. In a good way.

Nick stared at it for a long time before replying.

Nick [9:39 PM]:
I was just tired before.

Karl [9:40 PM]:
You were funny. They liked you.

Nick [9:42 PM]:
They liked you . I was background noise.

There was a longer pause this time, the grey bubbles disappeared and reappeared.

Karl [9:45 PM]:
No. You did great they can't stop talking about you :)

Nick swallowed. His fingers hovered over the keyboard. Then he typed—

Nick [9:52 PM]:
Are you and Alex…?

A longer pause. The bubbles disappeared again.

Karl [9:54 PM]:
That’s a weird question from someone who doesn’t talk.

Nick’s face went warm. His thumbs hovered again as he tried to think about what to say.

Karl [9:56 PM]:
No.

Nick stared at the screen until the glow blurred into the dark.

No.

One word. He could read it twenty times and it still felt too heavy and too light at the same time. Like Karl had dropped something fragile into his chest and walked away.

He wasn’t even sure why he’d asked. He told himself it didn’t matter—who Karl was into, what Karl did, how he laughed too loud and moved through rooms like he belonged in them. It didn’t matter. Nick had never wanted to be noticed. Had never needed it. Not really.

But the words were still there. You did great they can't stop talking about you .
And the thing was—Nick had liked that.
He had liked it too much.

He put his phone face-down on the pillow and turned over. Then turned back. Picked it up again. No new messages.

He wanted to say something. Maybe: Thanks for today. Or I’m not used to people. Or even I’m not always like this. Just most of the time.

But none of it made it past his chest.

Instead, he opened the notes app. Not to write anything he’d send, just… to unload.

‘Karl says things like it’s easy. I don’t think he knows how hard it is for people like me. But maybe he does. Maybe he just doesn’t want anyone to see it.

Maybe I don’t either.’

His fingers trembled slightly, so he locked the phone and curled deeper under the covers. Familiar thoughts tugged at him like an undertow.

You’re getting attached again.
You’ll have to leave.
Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.

He told himself he’d stop texting Karl. That tomorrow, he’d keep his head down again. Go back to the quiet. The safe place.

But deep down, he didn’t want to.
And that scared him most of all.

Karl’s POV:

He regretted it instantly. But also didn’t. Because it was true.

He waited a few minutes, didn’t get a reply, and threw his phone onto the other side of the bed. Curling onto his side, he stared at the space where someone else’s hand could be, but wasn’t.

The silence pressed in. Hunger gnawed. But he stayed still.

He wasn’t sure what this was between them.
But it felt like something was starting.
And for the first time in a while, that didn’t scare him.
It just made him wonder what came next. His phone rested on his chest, screen still glowing with the final message.

No.

He almost deleted it three times.

It sounded blunt. Like he was closing a door Nick wasn’t even sure he’d opened.

But what was he supposed to say?

He rolled onto his side, facing the wall. The room smelled like nail polish remover and slightly burnt toast. He hadn’t eaten dinner—again. Skipped lunch, too. His stomach was tight, not even bothering to growl anymore.

He liked the feeling.

It made him sharper. Like he had an edge. When everything else felt out of control—grades, sleep, friends, his own brain—this was something he could manage.

Still, tonight felt different. That table earlier had been full, chaotic, familiar.

But when Nick sat down, it shifted. Everyone noticed. Not in a big way. But in a real way.

And Karl had watched him—watched how he slowly uncurled, how he threw out quiet sarcasm, how his eyes followed the conversation even if his mouth didn't. He saw Nick watching him and Alex. Saw the jealousy. And Karl didn’t hate that, either.

But it confused him. Because it meant something was happening. And he didn’t know what.

He typed out three different messages after the last one and deleted them all, the silence from Nick was deafening.

Then finally, just before he turned out the light, he sent:

Karl [10:16 PM]:
You still up?

Nothing came back.

Still, Karl smiled faintly and rolled onto his stomach, cheek pressing into the cool pillowcase.

Chapter Text

Nick didn’t mean to ghost him. Not really.

It had just… happened. A message left on read here, a half-formed reply deleted there. At first, he told himself he was busy. Then, he started making himself busy. Any excuse to keep distance. To not feel the knot in his chest pull tighter every time Karl’s name popped up on his phone, to not have every waking thought be about him.

The truth was uglier.

Karl made things feel too real. Too good. Too dangerous, which seemed dramatic but Nick wasn't sure he could handle much else. Nick didn’t know how to exist in that kind of closeness without bracing for it to vanish.

He’d gone through the motions all week—school, home, repeat—keeping his head down, eyes forward. Every time Karl walked into a room, Nick looked the other way. It got harder by the day. Especially when Karl still smiled like he didn’t notice. Or maybe like he noticed, but wasn’t going to push. By Friday, Nick felt like a ghost in his own skin.

Saturday was worse. He hadn’t left his room all morning, hadn’t spoken. The air felt too heavy, his thoughts too loud. He lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, willing time to pass like it might take the ache with it.

His phone buzzed around 3 PM. The sound made him flinch. The first sound he’d heard after hours of listening to his thoughts.

Karl [3:02 PM]: You alive?

Nick blinked at the screen. The three dots appeared, disappeared, came back.

Karl [3:03 PM]: Not in a clingy way. Just in a you haven’t spoken to me all week and I might miss your company kind of way.

Nick stared. A small smile tugging at the end of his lips.

Karl [3:04 PM]: I’m heading into town. Thought you might want to not mope for a bit. Accidental bump-ins encouraged.

Nick didn’t reply.

But twenty minutes later, he pulled on a hoodie and slipped out the front door without telling anyone where he was going.

He didn’t expect to find Karl outside the bookstore. But there he was, leaned against the wall, hands in his pockets like he wasn’t waiting for anything at all.

“You came,” Karl said without missing a beat.

Nick crossed his arms. “I didn’t say I would.”

“I know,” Karl grinned. “But you strike me as the mysterious-wanderer-type. Gut feeling.” He winked

Nick didn’t smile. But he also didn’t leave.

They didn’t talk much at first. Just walked through town, side by side, Karl pointing out things like ‘that cafe has the worst muffins in the world’ and ‘don’t step on that crack, I broke my ankle there once’ Nick didn’t laugh, but he did glance over more than once. Karl gave him ample opportunity to open up if he wanted, but he never took it. It was nice just hearing complete nonsense, listening to someone who wasn't him for a change.

Eventually, they ended up near the park.

“Sit?” Karl asked.

Nick shrugged, and they sank onto a bench beneath a huge tree. The late-afternoon sun filtered through the leaves, casting gold across Karl’s fluffy hair. It made Nick’s stomach twist.

Karl kicked at the gravel.

“So, are you gonna tell me why you’ve been ignoring me or should I start wildly guessing?”

Nick didn’t answer right away. His hands stayed buried in his sleeves. He figured Karl would have run out of things to talk about eventually, and it would be his turn to speak.

Karl glanced over. “Is it something I did?”

“No,” Nick said quickly, too quickly. The quickest he’d spoken for a while.

A beat passed. Then he added, “It’s me.”

Karl snorted softly. “Classic line.”

“I just…” Nick swallowed. “I don’t stay anywhere long. It’s easier not to get close to people.”

Karl was quiet for a moment. Then, with uncharacteristic softness: “That sucks.”

Nick didn’t know how to respond to that. But it didn’t feel like pity. It felt… honest. Because it did suck. He didn't push or pry, just took what Nick said and empathised. They sat in silence, not uncomfortable. Just breathing.

When the sun dipped lower, Karl leaned back on his palms.

“I’m not good at the deep stuff,” he said. “I joke too much. But I don’t care that you’re quiet. Or distant. Or if you might leave. I still want to know you.”

Nick turned to look at him.

“I’m scared too, sometimes,” Karl added, eyes on the sky. “Different reasons, probably. But I get it. I think we’re more alike than you think”

Nick had a thousand questions but didn't want to break the trust that had slowly been building. He didn’t mean to lean in but he did.

Their shoulders touched.

Just for a moment.

They didn’t go home until the sky turned indigo.

On the walk back, Karl definitely hadn’t run out of things to talk about. While most of it was about nothing in particular, bad haircuts, weird dreams, a childhood obsession with frogs, Nick found himself listening like it mattered. Like he wanted to remember every word. 

When they reached outside of their houses, Karl slowed.

“This was nice,” he said. “Even if you’re still a bit broody.”

Nick smirked. A little. “I’m not broody.”

“You’re the definition of broody.”

Karl bumped their shoulders again. Nick didn’t pull away this time.

“Text me next time you vanish,” Karl said. “So I know you’re not dead.”

Nick hesitated. “Okay.”

And for the first time all week, he meant it.

Later that night, curled under his blanket, Nick stared at his phone. A nightly ritual, drafting 300 texts to send to him and deleting every single one. Once again he wasn’t sure what to say. But he didn’t want the night to end in silence, they did a lot of that.

So he typed and he sent it without a second thought.

Nick [10:17 PM]: I didn’t want to go today.

A few seconds later:

Nick [10:18 PM]: But I’m glad I did.

Karl [10:19 PM]: You always this dramatic at bedtime?

Nick [10:20 PM]: Shut up.

Karl [10:21 PM]: Goodnight, Rapunzel :)

Nick stared at the screen.

Smiled, just barely.

Then turned off the light. While the light was off  his brain was not.

He lay there in the dark, staring at the shadows on the ceiling, still half-curled toward where his phone had been. He'd turned it face-down on the nightstand like it might stop the way Karl’s last message pulsed behind his eyes.

Night, Rapunzel :)

Nick exhaled through his nose. Short. Tight. It wasn’t even that funny. Not really. But it stuck, the way all Karl’s stupid jokes did. Not because of what was said—but because of how it was said. Like he meant it , like Nick wasn’t just a ghost drifting between states of existing and disappearing. Like he saw him. Saw the person Nick desperately wanted to be.

Nick shifted onto his back, burying his hands beneath the duvet. He hated this part—the slow, sinking aftermath of something good. Because good didn’t last. Not for him. Not for his family. Not when you had to pack everything up again in a few months and pretend none of it mattered.

It was always like this: the second he started to feel safe, he pulled away.

He hadn’t meant to get close. And definitely not to someone like Karl—loud and bright and liked by everyone . Karl, who could walk into a room and turn it into something electric. Who looked like a mess sometimes but always felt put together. Who made Nick laugh when he didn’t want to and didn’t flinch at silence.

He doesn’t know you, a sharp thought whispered. Not really.

He hadn’t seen the mess inside. The nights where Nick couldn’t move. The mornings he couldn’t breathe. The way he built walls because it was safer than being real. Karl saw a version of him today that only flickered into existence on good days, when the noise was low enough to speak over.

But it wasn’t real. Not really. None of it was. Maybe Karl liked the wrong version of him.

What happens when he finds out you’re not always like that?

Nick clenched his jaw.

It would’ve been easier if Karl had just left him alone. If he’d given up when Nick ignored his texts. If he hadn’t pestered every single day, hadn’t smiled like Nick hadn’t been cruel in his silence.

It wasn’t fair, the way it all got under his skin. The way he wanted Karl to keep pushing. Nick rubbed his eyes hard with the heels of his hands. What if he let himself care, and then had to leave again?But then what if he stayed distant and missed out on something real?  What if Karl liked the version of him that could perform and not the one who shut down, who spiraled, who stopped replying for days?

While he didn't seem to stay away from that version right now, this wasn't the worst of the worst.  The ache in his chest swelled. Nick turned over and pulled the blanket tighter around himself. That line had been repeating all day, like a song stuck in his teeth. He didn’t know how Karl could say things like that so easily. Like it was simple. Like he was simple.

Nick wasn’t simple.

He was a thousand sharp corners wrapped in threadbare skin. And someone like Karl—someone warm and golden and kind —shouldn’t get close.

But he wanted him to.

And that was the worst part.

Because now, no matter how quiet he stayed, Karl would keep showing up in his thoughts, louder and louder, until Nick either let him in—or broke trying to keep him out.

Chapter Text

The weeks had blurred together in a haze of monotony, quiet and excitement. Things were going… okay. For once things were going okay. School didn’t feel quite as suffocating. Nick had been opening up to him more—bit by bit, and Karl had found himself holding onto those moments, replaying them at night when there was nothing else to think about. Even at home, things had been relatively calm. His mom hadn’t snapped at him in days, and the absence of chaos almost felt like progress.

So when he stepped through the front door that afternoon, the weight on his shoulders felt a little lighter than usual. He’d caught himself smiling on the walk home, Nick still lingering at the edges of his thoughts—his voice, his stupid dry humour, the way he’d actually laughed that day at lunch. Karl thought about the quiet boy he still knew, slowly being dwindled out by the more confident side of Nick. For a flickering moment, Karl had let himself believe that maybe things were shifting. That maybe, just maybe, he was allowed to feel okay. And things were going to be okay.

And then it hit him.

Hunger.

It wasn’t loud or sudden, more like a small tap on the shoulder. A suggestion rather than a force. The idea of food didn’t fill him with dread or nausea for once. It surprised him. He stood in the kitchen for a long moment, stunned by the quiet nudge of an appetite he thought he’d buried weeks ago. After a few more seconds of hesitation, he reached for a box of pasta. It wasn’t a “safe” food—too many carbs, too soft, too filling and yet never satisfying. He could already hear the echo of his own rules: don’t eat things that stick. But he wanted to try. Just this once. It felt like a small rebellion against whatever had been hollowing him out. After all, things were going okay, who’s to say they couldn't get better?

The pot was already on the stove when his mom walked in.

She didn’t say anything at first, just dropped her bag a little too hard on the counter and let out a sigh that made his stomach twist. He kept stirring the pasta, acting like he hadn’t noticed, but every movement she made felt amplified—every cupboard slammed, every drawer yanked open. Her energy filled the room, and Karl suddenly felt like he was standing on pins. He tensed when she finally spoke.

“Did you take out the trash out this morning?”

Karl blinked. “I—I thought I did.”

“Well, you didn’t. The whole street’s out and ours is overflowing. Do you want the neighbours thinking we’re disgusting?”

He opened his mouth to apologize, but the words stuck. She didn’t wait for a response.

“I don’t ask you to do much, Karl. One thing. And you forget. You’re always forgetting things”

There it was. The sharpness, the turn. The way her voice could slice through any semblance of calm and leave nothing but raw nerves behind. The kitchen was suddenly too small, too loud, too hot. The smell of the boiling pasta, which moments ago had seemed comforting, now turned his stomach. He didn't want it anymore.

“I’ll do it now,” he mumbled, already retreating.

The mood had shifted. The bubble had popped. He wasn't eating tonight.

By the time he came back inside, the pasta was ready. He drained it silently, dumped it into a bowl, and sat at the table. He stared at it. It looked gross. He twirled a single strand onto his fork and brought it to his mouth, but the smell alone made him nauseous.

His throat tightened. He couldn’t. The bowl sat there for a long time, untouched. He tried not to think about what that meant. As he went to leave the table his mom walked in again.

“You better not be wasting that” She warned, giving him a glare that made him uncomfortable. He didn't like it when his eating became obvious, it made him feel weird. The only thing he'd hidden so well becoming visible was not a nice feeling.

“I’m not hungry” He mumbled, eyes glued to the floor.

“Of course you aren't” she almost hissed like a snake, a piercing glare shooting right through him. She removed the pasta from in front of him, and Karl wasn’t sure whether to stay or go. He thought if he moved he’d be shot.

“What’s going on with you? I got a call and your grades are slipping”

“We’re only 2 months in, I’ve got loads of time to fix it” Karl wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince in this scenario.

“Are you sure you're not gonna forget?”

“What's your point, mom? I forgot the trash, so what?” He snapped.

“What's your point, Karl. What point are you trying to make? Are you trying to make me feel bad for yelling at you by not eating? How do you think that makes me feel?”

Karl's mouth was agape for a moment as he tried to unscramble the sentence in his brain. His chest felt tight. How dare she.

“For once he's speechless. Hallelujah. Is it because of emo kid next door? Is he rubbing off on you? You think it's cool to be all mysterious and depressed?” 

From there on our it had been a mess of a night. A screaming match with his mom over nothing and everything at once. Karl hadn’t even waited for the part where she threw in the “you’re wasting your potential” speech. He just grabbed his hoodie and left, shoes half-on, his phone barely charged, heart pounding.

Nick didn’t say anything when Karl climbed through his window at midnight. But he didn’t stop him, either.

His fingers still trembled a little as he pulled himself up over the ledge and slid awkwardly into the room, knocking something over on Nick’s desk. His breath caught. Nick was sitting on the edge of his bed, legs crossed, notebook open in his lap, pen still in his hand like Karl had just pressed pause on whatever storm was going on inside his head.

“Sorry,” Karl muttered, righting the pencil holder he’d knocked over. “Didn’t wanna stay home.”

Nick closed the window. “What happened?”

Karl flopped down on the edge of the bed and stared at the ceiling. “She was screaming again. Same old stuff. My grades, my attitude, food, me not being who she wants me to be, whatever.”

Nick sat on the floor, back to the wall. “Did you yell back?”

“Didn’t want to. I needed to get out”

They were quiet for a beat.

“You okay?” Nick asked eventually.

Karl huffed a laugh. “Sure. I’m great. Just climbed into my emotionally repressed neighbour’s bedroom window at midnight. Living the dream.”

Nick didn’t smile, this wasn't like the sarcasm he pulled when he claimed to have broken his ribs on the grass. “You’re not eating.”

Karl stilled, frustrated that his eating was the only thing Nick had picked up on. For a second, Nick thought he might leave. But then Karl laid back flat on the bed and said quietly, “It’s not about food.”

Nick nodded, even though Karl wasn’t looking. “I know.”

Another long pause.

“You’re not okay either,” Karl murmured. “You’ve been... folding in on yourself lately.”

Nick didn’t answer, feeling like the narrative had been on him a lot lately. He wouldn't let Karl deflect, not now.

Karl sat up again, their eyes finally meeting. “You don’t have to talk about it. I just—notice. That’s all.”

Nick’s throat felt tight. “Why do you care?”

Karl shrugged again, but it didn’t feel careless. “Because I do. Because you don’t act like anybody else I’ve ever met. And when you’re not disappearing into your own head, you’re kind of—”

“Don’t.”

Karl stopped. “Okay.”

The silence between them wasn’t awkward. It was heavy, like it knew it was holding something fragile. Their knees brushed. Just once. Barely noticeable. But they noticed.

Nick pulled his knees up to his chest. “You can stay if you want.”

Karl smiled faintly. “Thanks.”

And that was it. No big confessions. No dramatic moment. They sat like that for a while. Neither looking at the other. Just breathing in the dark.

Eventually, Nick stood and grabbed a spare blanket from the closet. Tossed it at him without a word and flicked the light off. The lamp on the nightstand stayed on, soft and warm.

Karl hesitated, tugging off his hoodie but keeping the rest of his clothes on. Even his socks. He felt gross and too big for the room, his bones folding in on themselves. His jeans hung looser than they used to.

Nick pulled the blanket over himself, turning away. His shirt rode up slightly as he settled in.

That’s when Karl saw it—just for a second. A faint, thin scar low on Nick’s forearm. Pale against pale skin, barely healed. It disappeared as Nick shifted again, but Karl had already seen it.

He felt something cold settle under his ribs.

He wanted to say something. Ask. Offer something in return. But the words stayed locked in his throat. It felt too big. Too close.

Instead, he whispered, “Thanks. For not… telling me to leave.”

Nick didn’t answer. Not with words. But he didn’t move away, either.

Karl laid there for a long time after Nick’s breathing evened out, staring at the ceiling, the blanket pulled up to his chin. He didn’t cry, exactly. But he felt everything pressing in around him, and for once, it wasn’t unbearable.

He wasn’t sure what tomorrow would be. He just knew this—whatever this was—mattered more than he could explain.

And for once, that felt like enough. This was enough. Just two boys sitting in the dark, both of them carrying things too heavy to name, but feeling just a little lighter for not having to carry them alone.

Chapter Text

Nick woke up before his alarm.

The sky outside was just starting to lighten, soft blue creeping in beneath the closed blinds. His room was quiet. Still. Except for the sound of slow, even breathing just behind him.

Karl had stayed.

It wasn’t a surprise exactly. Nick had heard the gentle shift of the mattress during the night, the occasional twitch of Karl turning over, the rhythmic thud of his heart against the silence. It had anchored something in him. Kept him from floating too far into the dark parts of his head.

Now, in the soft hush of morning, Nick lay still, watching the shadows crawl across the ceiling. He didn’t move. Didn’t want to break the fragile peace hanging in the air like dust in sunlight.

Karl was curled up under the blanket behind him, close but not too close. Still wearing his jeans, hoodie bunched up around his shoulders like he hadn’t planned on staying, hadn’t thought it through. He looked smaller in sleep somehow. Less bright. Less put together.

Nick turned slowly, careful not to wake him, and studied his face.

There were shadows under Karl’s eyes that hadn’t been there before. His cheeks looked a little more hollow, lips slightly chapped. He was always on during the day — loud, sharp, all smiles and easy charm. But now, stripped of that performance, Nick could see the edges. The cracks. The pain.

He thought about the scar Karl must’ve seen last night. And how maybe he’d eventually open up to him because he’d realise they're in the same boat.

He hadn’t meant for it to be visible. Hadn’t even remembered it was there until he’d rolled over and the blanket had shifted. But he hadn’t heard Karl ask anything, or move away, or judge him.

He’d just stayed.

And that… that mattered.

Nick’s throat felt tight.

He turned away again, eyes fixed on the wall. The air was cold against his skin.

They hadn’t talked. Not really. But Karl had come to him. Climbed through his window like it was a normal thing to do. And for once, Nick hadn’t pushed someone away.

Not entirely.

Maybe that scared him more than anything else.

Karl stirred behind him. A quiet sound. A sharp breath in.

Nick didn’t turn. Just listened.

“Is it morning?” Karl’s voice was scratchy. He sounded exhausted.

Nick nodded. “Yeah.”

A pause. The bedsprings shifted.

“Sorry for just… showing up,” Karl muttered. “Wasn’t exactly a plan.”

Nick said nothing for a long moment. Then, just barely: “I didn’t mind. I told you that you could stay didn't I?”

That was all. But he meant it.

Karl sat up slowly. Nick could hear him stretch, his hoodie rustling.

“God, I look like shit,” Karl muttered under his breath, followed by a quiet yawn.

Nick didn’t look. Just stared at the wall. “You always say that.”

“Yeah, well. Hopefully day it might be a lie.”

It already was, Nick thought. Just not in the way Karl probably meant.

He heard Karl getting up, collecting his phone from the floor and stumbling toward the window. No rush. Just a quiet kind of retreat.

“You gonna be okay?” Nick asked without turning.

A pause.

“Yeah,” Karl said eventually. “I will be.”

And somehow, Nick believed him. Despite that inkling that he was lying.

Nick stood too, not quite looking at him. “You don’t have to go.”

Karl looked at him. Really looked. “If I don’t, I might stay.”

And that — that was too much. Too close.

Nick’s chest felt tight, like something was pushing up against the inside of his ribs. He stepped forward before he knew why, heart kicking once like a warning.

He didn’t say anything. He just reached.

Karl didn’t move.

The hug was awkward, sort of stiff at first — not because it wasn’t wanted, but because it was new . Like neither of them knew how to hold each other without breaking. But then Karl leaned into it, head tucked against Nick’s shoulder, fingers curling slightly into the fabric of Nick’s hoodie. Nick held his breath, savouring the closeness. They fit together perfectly. 

The warmth of it lingered. The silence between them deepened in a way that didn’t feel empty. When they pulled apart, they didn’t say anything.

“Do you want some clean clothes?”

“I can change at my place it’s-”

Nick had already grabbed a change of clothes, simple and plain and no way anybody could tell that they were his. If Karl wanted to stay why didn't he? He didn’t have to go just yet.

“Bathrooms just down the hall” He smiled, handing him the bunched-up clothes. Karl made his way there without another question. He returned shortly after and he did look better in clothes that he hadn't slept in. The trousers were slightly too big but he’d put them on anyway.

“You look-”

Karl glanced at the window. “Do you want me to go the normal way?”

Nick managed a small, breathy laugh, understanding that maybe this was too much. “Too late for that.”

Karl grinned. It wasn’t his usual bright one, but it was real. “Okay. Rapunzel it is.”

He climbed through the window slowly. Nick followed, watching as his hoodie snagged slightly on the sill.

Before he left, Karl looked back once.

Nick opened his mouth to say something. But the words didn’t come.

So Karl just nodded and left, leaving his hoodie behind on Nick’s bed.

Nick didn’t see him at school. Not really. Karl had been there — Nick caught glimpses in the halls, laughter echoing off lockers, that familiar way he stood slightly off-center in every group — but they didn’t speak.

He almost didn’t text him at all.

But at 4:47 PM, after pacing his room twice and picking at his thumbnail until it bled, he did.

Nick [4:47 PM]:
You left your hoodie.

Karl [4:52 PM]:
I know.
You can keep it.

Nick [4:55 PM]:
You did that on purpose.

Karl [4:57 PM]:
Maybe.
I’ll look better on you.

Nick [4:59 PM]:
That’s not true.

Karl [5:01 PM]:
Then let me come see.
You know. To prove it.

Nick stared at the screen. His heart thudded unevenly.

He didn’t reply right away. But he didn’t delete the conversation either.

Karl [5:05PM]:
You okay?

Nick [5:06PM]:
Yeah.

He stared at the screen after sending it. Then, he typed again.

Nick [5:08 PM]:
You?

Karl didn’t reply for a while.

Karl [5:15 PM]:
No. But I liked staying.

Nick swallowed. Then typed:

Nick [5:17 PM]:
You can again. If you need to.

Karl [5:18PM]:
I might

Chapter Text

He saw Nick before Nick saw him. Across the courtyard, hunched shoulders and all. Hoodie sleeves tugged low over his hands. Not Karl’s hoodie, though. His stomach dropped a little at that, but he figured that because he’d slept in it Nick wouldn't want to wear it. He hated how once they shared a moment, a bit of closeness, a bit of something things suddenly went backwards. Maybe he should have been used to it by now, he knew Nick well enough at this point to realise that this was a pattern. Yet it didn't deter him.

Still, Karl laughed at something Alex said—loud and natural, or at least close enough. His hands moved like punctuation marks, legs swinging a little off the edge of the bench. He leaned in, kept his expression light, but every now and then, his eyes flicked over. He pretended not to care when Nick finally looked up but internally he was a mess.

Their eyes met.

Barely.

A second, maybe two, not that he was counting, and then Nick looked away.

Karl tried not to feel that. Tried to stay present, focused on Ellie’s retelling of some awkward interaction in French class. Everyone was talking. Everything was normal. But all he could think about was how Nick hadn’t worn the hoodie. About the silence last night after the texts. About how Nick had seemed like he was trying not to exist in the hallway this morning.

He shouldn’t have expected anything else. Not after how weird things had gotten. Not after that night. He didn’t know what the hell they were anymore, and maybe he should stop trying to figure it out.

At lunch he noticed immediately when Nick didn’t show up. His eyes flicked toward the entrance too many times, hoping maybe he’d want to join them at some point.

Alex teased him about being distracted, but Karl just shrugged and kept picking at his sandwich. He wasn’t hungry anyway, not really. He’d eaten breakfast too late, that’s all. And he’d been off all day. Maybe he was just tired. That was what he kept telling himself, the excuses were running out.

Still, when Ellie mentioned seeing Nick sitting by the benches alone, Karl didn’t say anything. Didn’t ask. Didn’t get up and go.

He couldn’t.

Because if he did, that would mean it mattered. That Nick mattered. And Karl wasn’t ready to make that real in front of everyone. Wasn’t sure if he was allowed to.

And if he showed up and Nick looked at him like he did this morning—like he wished Karl would disappear—he wasn’t sure he could handle it. Was he too pushy? Did Nick want him to go over? Just another thing to overthink.

After what felt like the longest day of his life, he told Alex he’d meet him later for their studying session. With a promise to not be distracted.

Karl found him at his locker. Saw the slope of his back. Karl hesitated, then spoke anyway. 

“Hey.”

Nick tensed. Turned like he expected something worse. Karl leaned against the wall, casual. He didn’t feel casual, but he didn't want to make Nick feel worse than he was probably already feeling. 

“You didn’t sit with us.”

Nick shrugged. “Wasn’t in the mood.”

Karl nodded slowly. “Fair.”

He didn’t know what he wanted Nick to say. He didn’t know what he wanted to say either. Everything was too full. Too careful. His chest felt tight all day, like something was pressing down on it from the inside out.

His eyes fell to the sleeves.

“You still have the hoodie?”

Karl blinked, surprised at the slight amusement in his voice. “Yeah.”

“You should keep it.” Something shifted in Nick’s expression. His voice tried for lightness, but it cracked just a little.

Karl smiled, weak. This attempt at conversation was bad, even for the two of them. “Honestly it’s fine”

“You always say that. Have it.”

The silence stretched. Not uncomfortable, just… full. Like both of them were standing on the edge of something again and neither of them wanted to jump first.

“I like it when things are quiet, don’t take it personally” Nick said, almost to himself.

Karl tilted his head, voice softer now. “I know.”

And he did. Nick’s quiet wasn’t emptiness—it was space. It was safety. And Karl missed it more than he wanted to admit, he just didn't want the distance.

He didn’t mention how hard it had been to sleep. How his mom had been extra sharp lately, how food was harder again. How it felt like he’d unraveled a little just from sitting too close to someone who had seen him as something soft. Someone who had said he could stay.

He wished he could’ve stayed.

But he stepped back instead.

“I’ve got to meet Alex. We’re working on some film project thing. But…” He hesitated. “Text me if you feel like it.”

Nick nodded. “Okay.”

Later on in the evening Karl hadn’t heard a word. Even though he told himself to try and leave him to it, he couldn't stop. There was something clinically wrong with him because he was obsessed with this boy.

Karl stared at his phone for a long time before sending the text he’d taken ages to write.

Karl [8:44 PM]:
You looked like a vampire in the sun today

Pure poetry. He waited. After a moment too long it felt like maybe he’d said too much, like it could all topple over. But then he thought maybe Nick would be lying on his bed, headphones in, dead to the world like usual. But no. It had only been a minute and it was the longest minute of his life.

Nick [8:45 PM]: I am a vampire

Karl grinned into his pillow.

Karl [8:45 PM]:Hot

Nick [8:46 PM]: You’re weird

Karl [8:46 PM]: You hugged me first, weirdo

Nick [8:47 PM]: Don’t remind me

Karl [8:48 PM]: I think about it more than I should

He sent it before he could stop himself. He regretted it instantly. The read receipt appeared and stayed. But no reply came. Minutes passed. He stared at the screen. Scrolled up through old messages. Wondered if he should say he was joking. Say never mind. Say sorry. Delete the text. Block him forever and move away. His heart beat like something was cracking open in his chest.

Then finally—

Nick [9:12 PM]: Me too.

Karl exhaled. Quiet. Almost startled by the rush of it.

The ache didn’t go away. But for a moment, it didn’t feel so sharp.

Chapter Text

It was late afternoon when the knock came.

Nick was on the floor of his room, headphones on, pencil in hand, sketching something half-finished and mostly meaningless. Shapes that didn’t go anywhere. Lines that never really met. He didn’t expect anyone. Toby was at a friend’s house. His mom was working late. The house was quiet except for the low hum of music and the soft scratch of pencil on paper.

Then: three quick knocks. A pause. One more.

He froze.

That rhythm. He knew it now.

He pulled open the front door, heart already thudding for reasons he didn’t want to name. Karl stood there with a crooked smile and windblown hair, hoodie half-zipped, sleeves pushed up to the elbows. His cheeks were pink from the wind, or maybe something else. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days, and yet had never looked so adorable.

“You looked like you wanted to disappear after class yesterday, you doing alright?” Karl said, leaning slightly against the doorframe.

Nick blinked. “Are you doing alright using my door instead of my window? Also who doesn't want to disappear after math.”

Karl tilted his head, studied him like he was still listening. “What about today?”

Nick shrugged. “Still the same.”

A smile ghosted across Karl’s face, soft and knowing. “Wanna go for a walk?”

Nick hesitated. He’d been trying to keep distance between them all week—leaving texts on read, walking a little faster in the halls, pretending to be busier than he was. But Karl had this thing where he didn’t chase. He just stayed near enough to make you feel it. Like gravity.

“…Sure,” Nick said finally.

They didn’t talk much at first. That wasn’t new, even with the weight of a hundred unsaid things hanging between them. They wandered through the quiet neighborhood, past fences too low to matter and trees that leaned like they were tired. The sky was low and gray, the kind that felt like it might snow even though it wouldn’t. Karl talked a little—about a movie he half-watched, about how his brain refused to hold onto any of his assignments.

Nick mostly listened. He didn’t have the energy to talk much, and he didn’t want to fake it. But Karl didn’t seem to mind the silence. He filled it in his own way—gestures, glances, little things. His hand brushing against Nick’s as they turned a corner. A shoulder nudge when Nick rolled his eyes at a bad joke.

Eventually, they looped back to their street, pausing at the steps outside Nick’s house. A familiar beat in a routine they never really talked about.

“You hungry?” Nick asked, the words surprising even himself.

Karl blinked. “Uh. I could eat, I guess.”

They made pasta. It wasn’t good. Nick burned the sauce a little when he got distracted looking for a clean bowl, and Karl panic stirred it with a fork because he couldn’t find the spoon and was too lazy to look properly. They laughed about it, sort of. Karl stood awkwardly in the kitchen, shifting his weight, unsure about how to feel. He joked about how the tomato sauce looked “radioactive,” and pushed it around his plate more than he ate it.

Nick noticed. Of course he noticed. But he also didn't expect him to eat it, it tasted awful. His own appetite was gone too so he couldn't say anything.

Later, they drifted upstairs and collapsed onto Nick’s bed, limbs loose and heavy. They lay side by side, close but not quite touching, shoes kicked off, the leftover warmth from dinner lingering in the air between them. The lamp by Nick’s desk cast a soft gold glow across the room, pooling under the door. Outside, the wind had picked up. Leaves scratched faintly against the windows.

Maybe it was the quiet. Maybe it was the way Karl’s hoodie looked baggier than usual, the way his eyes darted away whenever Nick’s gaze lingered too long. Maybe it was the memory of Karl’s fingers grazing his on the walk—intentional? Accidental? Nick couldn’t tell.

Karl broke the silence.

“It was good,” he said, voice low. “Dinner. Thanks.”

Nick rolled onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow. “You barely ate it.”

Karl looked up at the ceiling for a long moment. His lips parted, then closed again, like he was searching for the right weight of the words.

“You made it,” he said eventually. “You tried. That… matters. I still appreciate it”

The room held its breath.

Nick’s hand twitched where it rested near Karl’s on the duvet. He thought about touching him. Thought about not touching him. Both choices felt wrong.

“Why’d you really come over?” he asked, trying to sound casual. Failing. The question cracked open something small and raw inside him.

Karl turned his head, met Nick’s eyes. His expression softened. “Why’d you ask me in?”

Nick didn’t have an answer he liked. But he knew the shape of the truth.

“I think you know why,” he mumbled.

Karl pushed himself up slightly, resting on one elbow now too. His knee brushed Nick’s. He didn’t move it.

“You’re not like I thought you’d be,” he murmured. “Every time we talk, it’s like I’m seeing another side of you each time”

Nick swallowed hard. “I know. That’s never stopped you, has it?”

Karl gave a breath of a laugh. “It intrigues me. And we’ve kind of been doing this for a while now, so I figure I’m committed.”

They were close now. Closer than they’d been all day. Nick could see the uneven edges of Karl’s nail polish, chipped blue with specks of glitter. He could see the faint freckle under his left eye. The way Karl’s fingers trembled slightly when he reached up to tug at the drawstrings of Nick’s hoodie.

“I don’t like how this feels,” Karl said suddenly, voice barely more than breath.

Nick’s heart stuttered. “How what feels?”

“How I feel about you.”

That landed like a drop in still water. Karl’s fingers brushed Nick’s wrist. Just barely. A whisper of contact that sent a shock through him.

Karl continued, eyes flicking up to meet his. “I don’t even care anymore. I’m tired of pretending”

Nick’s voice was quieter than he meant it to be. “Me too but…”

“But? Is that good or bad?” Karl looked at him for a long, long second.

“Both. It’s good because it’s you. But… I don’t know if I have room for this. With everything else. And I don’t think you have either”

Nick shifted, just slightly closer. Their legs were touching now. He could feel Karl’s warmth through the fabric of his jeans.

“Things have been so much better since I met you” Karl whispered.

There was silence. A kind of silence that wasn’t empty—but full. Electric.

“I know. Things are like that for me too, but when things get distant I get worse. And I know you do too. That’s not something I can put on you”

“We can help each other through it can't we?” Karl sounded like he was about to cry.

Nick let out a breath that was almost a laugh. “We can't even help ourselves, Karl”

Eyes were glassy. “At least keep me around as a friend,” Karl said. “If you’re not gonna let me in this way, let me stay some way. I don’t want to not be in your life.”

Nick’s eyes met his. “You’ll always be in my life,” he said. His voice trembled at the edges.

And then it happened.

It wasn’t planned. It wasn’t perfect. Their faces had drifted too close, too many times, and this one—this time—they didn’t pull back.

Their lips met.

Soft. Tentative. A question with no words. Karl’s hand slid up Nick’s arm, warm and hesitant, anchoring him there like he might vanish. Nick tilted into it, heart thudding against his ribs like a drumline. The kiss deepened slowly, cautiously, until it wasn’t a question anymore, but a truth.

Nick’s fingers curled in the fabric of Karl’s hoodie. Karl kissed him like he’d been holding it back for weeks, like he wasn’t sure if he’d ever get another chance.

And then Karl pulled back. Too fast.

His breath was unsteady. His cheeks flushed. His fingers lingered just a second too long on Nick’s wrist before he let go.

“I—um,” he said. “Fuck. I should go.”

Nick sat up, confusion flashing across his face. “Wait, what?”

Karl stood, rubbing the back of his neck. He looked everywhere but at Nick. “I don’t know why I did that. I’m sorry.”

He crossed to the window, pushing it open. The night air rushed in—sharp and cold and real. Just as he climbed onto the ledge, he turned back, eyes unreadable.

“I didn’t fall this time,” he said, trying for lightness.

But Nick heard it—that wobble, that crack in his voice. The mask slipping back on too quickly. And then he was gone, the window slamming behind him, leaving Nick alone in the half-lit room with the echo of a kiss that didn’t know what it meant yet.

Chapter Text

Karl didn’t go home.

He walked. Fast. Nowhere in particular. Just enough to get the blood out of his head, out of his hands, out of the places it shouldn't be. The wind whipped at his face and dried the sweat on his neck, but it didn’t cool the burn still spreading through his chest. His fingers wouldn’t stop twitching. His heart wouldn’t calm down. He could still taste him.

He kissed him.
He actually kissed Nick.
And then he left.

He couldn’t tell if he was a coward or an idiot. Or both. Because did he kiss him immediately after they both said they couldn’t handle a relationship? Of course he did. What perfect timing.

It was getting dark when he finally climbed the steps to Alex’s front door. He didn’t bother knocking—just let himself in with the spare key they all knew about, kicked his shoes off in the hall, and made a beeline for the one place that might ground him. He took the stairs two at a time and pushed open Alex’s bedroom door.

Alex looked up from the floor where he was sprawled in front of his TV, controller in hand. “Whoa. You good?”

“No,” Karl said, already pacing. “Absolutely not. I did something stupid.”

Alex didn’t even pause his game, this wasn't the first time this had happened and it wouldn't be the last. “Is it stupid-stupid or like Karl-stupid?”

Karl stopped, stared at him like he was personally offended, then flung himself onto the bed. “I kissed him.”

Alex blinked, unpausing his game. “Who?”

“Nick. Obviously.”

Alex nodded slowly. “Okay. And… that’s bad?”

A buzz in Karl’s hoodie pocket. He ignored it. Probably nothing. Or was it Nick? He tucked his hand into his pocket to get his phone.

Nope. He wasn’t looking. He couldn't.

Karl sat up, wild-eyed. “It’s not just bad , Alex. It’s catastrophic. I kissed him and then climbed out the window like a total freak.”

Another buzz. He shifted. Didn’t look. His phone felt hot in his pocket.

Alex paused the game and turned. “Wait, wait. You kissed him, then bolted?”

“Like I was on fire,” Karl groaned, dragging both hands down his face wanting the entire bed to swallow him up.

“Okay, but… you like him, right?”

“Yes. No. I mean— I don't know”

Alex looked confused. “So what’s the actual problem?”

Karl stood again, pacing tight little circles. “The problem is, I’ve been trying not to like him and we've had this thing going for a while. We ignore it and we move on but today we were talking and he said he didn't have space in his life for a relationship and then I kissed him immediately after he said that like a moron. And then I left. Because I—”

Buzz. Alex was grateful that the phone interrupted him because he was positive that Karl was talking himself blue.

He finally pulled his phone out.

Nick : ???
Nick : where did you go
Nick : why did do you that
Nick : Karl?
Nick : please say something

Karl stared at the messages, gut twisting. He locked the screen and shoved the phone back into his pocket like it burned.

“Dude, you’re spiraling,” Alex said, watching him carefully now.

“I am spiraling. I am an actual spiral. A tornado. A human disaster,” Karl said, voice pitched high with stress.

Alex raised an eyebrow. “You just kissed a boy, Karl. This isn’t a Netflix series. Just text him back.”

Karl froze. “I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Were you not listening to me just now? He doesn't want a relationship. It wasn’t just a kiss!” Karl practically shouted. “It was everything we’ve not been saying. Everything I’ve been ignoring. All of it just exploded in one second and I don’t know what to do I’ve ruined everything. I told him to keep me in his life as a friend and then I kissed him!”

He started pacing again. Couldn’t stop. Couldn’t breathe right.

Buzz.

Nick : this is messed up
Nick : call me
Nick : Karl?

“Shit,” Karl muttered under his breath, turning his back to Alex.

“You good?” Alex asked again, voice more serious now.

Karl didn’t answer for a minute. His jaw clenched.

“I kissed him,” Karl muttered. “And now I’m mad he’s texting me. How does that make sense?”

Alex gave a low whistle. “You want him to chase you or leave you alone?”

“Both,” Karl said. “And neither. God, I don’t know. I just know I ruined it.”

Alex sat up straighter. “Okay. Pause. Can you tell me what’s actually going on? Because this is a little above your usual drama quota.”

Karl let out a breath that sounded more like a laugh. It was hollow. “I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Try.”

Karl collapsed back onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling. He didn’t want to spill everything. He couldn’t. Not without dragging Nick into it in ways he didn’t have permission for. But his chest felt tight, like something inside was pressing against his ribs, begging to get out. Alex stood up and sat beside him on the bed, bumping their shoulders together.

“What part of this is freaking you out the most?”

Karl stared. “That I ruined it. That I crossed a line. That I made it worse. That I felt something and now it’s all gonna go to shit because that’s what always happens when I let myself want anything.”

Alex was quiet for a second. “That’s a lot of pressure for one kiss.”

Karl let out a bitter laugh. “Yeah, well. It wasn’t just a kiss.”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, hands clasped tight between them.

Alex frowned. “Karl…” and pulled him in.

His stomach growled, sharp and embarrassing. He crossed his arms over it. Alex didn’t notice, or pretended not to. Karl hadn’t eaten properly in three days. Maybe longer. But food felt like a trap right now — like if he let one thing in, everything else would come pouring out too. 

Alex looked at him sideways. “You’re not gonna like, start starving yourself over this, right?”

Karl laughed, too loudly. “Yeah, no. That would be… insane. I just missed breakfast”

Alex didn’t push. He never did. And Karl hated how much he needed him to.

Chapter Text

Nick didn’t sleep.
Hadn’t really for days. But this night he didn't even consider it.

He lay awake long after Karl had climbed out the window, after the sound of his shoes hitting the grass had faded. After the kiss. After the sudden cold. After the sun set.

His hoodie felt heavy against his own shoulders, heavy with warmth that no longer felt like his own. It smelled like Karl. That soft, faint blend of whatever shampoo he used and the weird candy-scented hand lotion Nick had once teased him about. The one Karl claimed wasn’t his. It was too much. It wasn’t enough.

Nick stared at the ceiling like it might give him answers. Like if he blinked the right number of times it would appear right in front of him.

But it never appeared. Maybe because there wasn't one.

Karl had kissed him. Soft at first, like maybe he was scared to. Then firmer. Closer. His fingers had curled around Nick’s arm like he didn’t want to let go, like he needed to feel him there, real and warm and not just something he’d imagined. It replayed over and over in his head.

And then he left.

No explanation. No message. Just a half-smile and a window exit in typical Karl fashion.

Nick didn’t cry. That would’ve been easier, maybe. Instead he just sat on the floor for a long time, knees to his chest, hoodie sleeves pulled over his hands, trying to remember if he’d imagined it all. If he’d leaned in first. If this was all a mistake.

His phone buzzed once. A stupid game notification. Nothing else. It sat there beside him, screen dark and silent, unread messages lying between them like ghosts.

He tried sketching. Couldn’t. His hand wouldn’t move the way he wanted it to. He gave up, dropped the pencil. He tried to journal. Couldn't. He tried to listen to music. Couldn't. That was terrifying. These methods always worked, kept him distracted long enough to avoid any damage.

He reached for his journal again and stopped.

What’s the point?

He didn’t open it. Didn’t open anything. Not the drawer. Not that. He wasn’t doing that again. He wouldn't. He’d just… sit. Sit the thoughts crawl all over him until his skin didn’t feel like this anymore. While slowly pressing his fingers into his wrists…

In the morning, the ache was still there.

Nick dragged himself out of bed, brushed his teeth like he was trying to erase the night before from his mouth, and walked to the shop just to get out of the house. Maybe for air. Maybe to feel something. Maybe to not wallow in self-pity for once.

He was fed up of doing that. He was fed up of punishing himself for having feelings. Part of him wondered how he’d explain it to his mom. She would think he went to that extent just because Karl kissed him, but it wasn't because of that. That just pushed him over the edge.

The fresh air was reminding him of that. Of his slip-up. His accident.

On the way back, he glanced up instinctively at Karl’s house. The curtains in his bedroom were open. The light was on.

He was home.

He was home.

Not out of town. Not avoiding him because he couldn’t physically get to him.

Just ignoring him.

Nick stared for a moment too long, like he almost couldn't believe it. But he did because it was right there in front of him.  

When he got back, he sent just one message.

Nick: thought you still wanted to be friends? guess not

He was hoping for something more heartbreaking, something mean to get under Karl’s skin. But that was all he could come up with. It didn't even matter anyway because there was no reply. No bubble. Not even the little grey “read” checkmark that used to show up immediately.

Nick didn’t send another. He stared at his screen for what felt like hours, thumb hovering over the keyboard, unsure if it would matter.

And that—more than the kiss, more than the quiet panic blooming under his ribs—that was what cracked something deep in him.

Because he had been the one who said he didn’t have space. He had been the one who told Karl not to get too close. But Karl kissed him anyway. Karl climbed out the window like Nick had upset him? And then had the audacity to ignore him? After he crossed a line? After he fucked up?

Maybe they both had and Nick hadn’t realised but right now Karl had really let him down.

That night, Nick didn’t sketch. Didn’t journal. Didn’t even reach for his headphones. He just lay flat on his bed with a hoodie pulled tight around and him fresh bandages around his wrists. And beneath all of it, something old crept in. Familiar.

That voice. Quiet. Unwelcome.

You ruined it.

His eyes fell upon the drawer. The one he hadn’t gone into until last night. 

The next day at school, Karl didn’t look at him. Not once.

Nick saw him between classes. By the lockers, in the halls. Laughing with Alex by the vending machines, his hand flailing in one of those exaggerated retellings he always did when he was trying to be the loudest person in the room. His smile was easy. It always was.

Like he hadn’t detonated Nick’s life two nights ago. Like none of it had happened. Like it had, but it didn’t matter.

Nick didn’t exist.

Not to him.

And maybe it would’ve hurt less if it had been anyone else. But it was Karl.
Karl, who climbed through windows and left his hoodie behind on purpose.
Karl, who was unapologetically himself no matter what day he was having.
Karl, who had waited quietly by Nick’s side all those weeks, showing up without ever demanding anything in return.

Now he was just nowhere.

Now he was a ghost.

Nick didn’t sit with their group at lunch. He made an excuse, said he had homework. George looked confused, Ellie asked if he was okay. He lied. Alex didn’t ask. Just looked at him for a beat too long like he maybe already knew something and didn't know what to do about it.

Nick stopped checking his phone. Stopped waiting.

That night, Nick didn’t even pretend to reach for his sketchbook. Or his journal. Or his headphones. He didn’t glance at the drawer, but he felt it there, felt the items in there. It buzzed under his skin. Familiar. Tempting. He didn’t move toward it.

But he didn’t move away, either.

Chapter Text

Three days.
That’s how long it had been since Karl kissed him. Since Karl left. Since Nick had felt anything but cold.

It was long enough to pretend he was fine in front of his mom. Long enough to stop checking his phone every three minutes. Long enough to spiral—just enough—to realise he was tired of being scared. Tired of punishing himself for having feelings he didn't know how to deal with. It had finally hit him how dangerous this was, for both of them. How much they depended on one another, how out of control things became when they stopped speaking. He'd had enough. It ended today.

So he waited until the lights were out. Until the neighbourhood was still.

And he climbed through Karl’s window.

His hands shook on the frame, but his face stayed calm. His legs felt wobbly as he carefully made his way up. Impressed by his balance, he lifted a hand free to knock on the window.

The glow from the window was dim, only lit by the desk lamp Karl had on all the time. The light went out, and any sort of shuffling he heard had stopped. He knocked again.

“I know you're in there moron. Let me in”

There was a click followed by the window sliding up. The light came back on as Nick hoisted himself up and into Karl’s room.

Karl was sitting on the floor, his back against the bed, notebook in his lap, his hoodie swallowing him up.

He looked up and didn’t move. Like if he did move everything would come crashing down.

“…You know,” Karl said after a beat, “normal people use the door”

Nick stared at him. “You insult yourself too when you say that.”

Karl blinked. Then shrugged, closing the notebook slowly like he needed the extra second to think. “I know. Uh… you missed it earlier. George tried to do that dumb heel-click jump in the hallway and just—ate it. Like face to the floor. Pretty sure he took out a teacher in the process.”

He smiled faintly at his own story, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He was trying. Trying so hard not to talk about the thing they were both still thinking about.

Nick sat on the floor opposite Karl, stiff and distant.

“Why did you leave?”

The words landed sharply. Karl’s smile dropped.

“What?”

Nick didn’t soften. “That night. You kissed me. Then you left. You didn’t text. Didn’t look at me at school. What the hell was I supposed to do with that?”

Karl looked down at the notebook in his lap like it had answers.

“I panicked,” he said finally with a shrug. “I crossed a boundary and didn't know how to accept the consequences of it”

Nick’s throat tightened, he wanted to ease into it. Slowly get back into the rhythm of being in Karl’s life again. But the words were there ready to spill. “I relapsed.”

Karl was picking at the corner of his notebook and immediately stopped. For the first time ever he looked genuinely scared, but he said nothing, allowing Nick to open up if he wanted to.

“I hate how any sort of distance with you pushes me to the extreme because I care so much about you. I’m not saying it to guilt you. I’m saying it because I’ve been doing this again and I hate it. And I keep pretending I’m fine as long as I don’t look at you, but that’s not working either.”

Karl’s voice cracked. “I didn’t know.”

“You weren’t here to know.”

Silence.

Karl stood slowly, crossed the room, and sat down on the floor beside Nick’s legs—not touching, just there.

“You think we make each other worse?”

“I don't think we make each other better. And it fucking sucks but it is what it is”

“I fainted yesterday,” Karl said. “I felt like… I don’t know. Like I was slipping. Like even thinking about you made me lose my grip.”

Nick let that sit in the air between them. The shame of it. The fear.

“It was actually scary. Like for the first time ever the thing I’d been controlling so well had slipped away,” he said quietly.

Karl looked up. His whole face changed—sharp edges dissolving into something horrified and helpless.

“Do we keep this up until we kill ourselves or do we get some help? Because this can't go on, not like this”

“It can't can it?” Karl mumbled

“If we want us to work we need to work on ourselves. I want this. I really do” Nick confessed

Karl stared at the floor. “So what do we do?”

Nick swallowed. “We’re scared of what it means to actually try. But if we don’t do something, it’ll get worse.”

“I didn't think it could get worse.”

Nick finally looked at him. “Then let’s stop breaking in secret.”

Karl’s breath caught. “You mean—”

“I mean we talk to someone. Together. Separately. I don’t care. I just—I need this to not be another thing we bury. I need you to not be another thing I lose.”

They sat in silence for a long moment. Then Karl leaned his head against Nick’s knee, tired and quiet.

“I’m scared.”

“Me too,” Nick whispered. “But I think I’m more scared of pretending I don’t care.”

Karl didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.

Nick didn’t move. He just let them sit there, the ache between them still pulsing—but no longer ignored.

“God who knew a kid pestering me would turn into this?” Nick said lightly. Karl let out a small laugh.

“I know”

“Did you get a video of George by any chance?”

“Yes! One sec”

It wasn’t fixed.
But it was honest.

And it was a step in the right direction.

Chapter Text

He didn't mean to stay at Karl’s so long, but time froze every time he was with him. He climbed back through his own window, feeling a mixture of relief and fear. The relief vanished when his mom stood in his room, waiting for him. Not a sound could be heard except for his mom’s breathing—sharp, short bursts, like she was trying not to cry or scream. Maybe both. Because on his bedside table were the bandage wrappers that Nick had clearly forgotten to hide in the bin. Nick stood stiffly taking in the scene before him.

His wrist throbbed in time with his heartbeat. His stomach twisted. His hands, curled tight into his arms, dug fingernails into his sleeves, pressing down like maybe that pressure could hold him together.

It felt like years until he finally spoke.

“I relapsed” he choked.

“I don’t want you seeing him again.”

His throat closed. He didn’t blink. Didn’t turn. “How did you know-? You can’t be serious.”

“I’m dead serious,” she said. Her voice cracked. “Things always get worse when you’re with him”

A bitter laugh escaped him before he could stop it. “And you think not seeing him will fix that?”

“I think keeping you safe is my job,” she snapped, then softer, “and I should’ve done it sooner. I had a feeling that things were escalating between you both and I never stopped it”

That hit deeper than the scars on his arms.

“You let me keep going back,” he said, quieter now, but harder, sharper-edged. “You can't stop me now” He hesitated.

Her voice filled the silence, too fast. “I didn’t know how bad it was.”

“You knew something was wrong though right?” Her knuckles tightened by her sides.

“And you didn’t stop it,” he finished. “And you think doing that now will compensate”

“I didn’t want to make it worse,” she said, voice splintering. “I thought—he was good for you. I saw how you looked at him, Nick. I thought maybe that was what you needed. Someone who understood. A friend. Because god knows you’ve never had a friend stick around like this”

Nick swallowed hard at the word friend. His throat burned. The room felt too small, too loud, too still.
And she kept going.

“But then… You isolate yourself for 3 days and you’ve started cutting yourself again—” her voice cracked again. “I think you’ve both bitten off more than you can chew. I don’t think either of you is ready for that.”

“We aren't,” he said, hollowly.

She hesitated. “Your dad will be devastated”

Nick’s jaw tightened. The pressure behind his eyes swelled, thick and unbearable.

“He won’t” he muttered. “He’ll just pretend not to hear me like he always does?”

“Nick—”

“He barely even looks at me as it is.”

She exhaled shakily. “Then maybe that’s what we need to focus on right now. Forget telling your dad. Let’s focus on you. Getting better. Figuring out who you are.”

He turned toward her, something defensive flickering in his chest like a warning light.

“What does that mean?” he snapped, more than he meant to.

“I think you know what I mean sweetie” she said gently. Not unkind, but not letting go either. “You need time to figure it out. Because I know you think you do but you don’t have to have all the answers yet. Not about him. Not about anything.”

He folded inward. “I didn’t want things to go this far,” he whispered. “I just wanted a friend”

There was silence. The kind that comes after something ugly and true has been said out loud.

Her voice, when it returned, was softer. Slower. “Can I ask you something?”

He didn’t answer. But he didn’t say no.

“If you take away all the mess… the fighting, the secrets, the pain—how do you feel about him, Nick? Like… as a person?”

His breath hitched.

She waited.

He finally turned toward her. “I like him,” he said, quietly and real. A small smile tugged at her lips. “You do?”

“I do. I liked him before anything even happened. Before he knew I existed. Before I knew if he’d ever even look at me like that.”

Her face shifted. She didn’t interrupt.

“I liked the way he never stopped caring, always puts others before himself” Nick went on, his voice gaining momentum. “And how he explains things with his hands. He talks with his whole body. He’s—he’s annoying, but not in a way that makes you want to leave. In a way that makes you want to stick around even if you don't want the company”

His mom blinked, eyes damp.

“And we kissed,” Nick said suddenly. Like it slipped out. Like it had been waiting too long in his throat.

“Oh,” she breathed. Not shocked. Like he’d confirmed her suspicions all along.

“And it wasn’t weird,” he said quickly, the word vomit had begun. “It wasn’t confusing. It was—God—it was good. It felt like… like I could breathe. For the first time in weeks. Like someone reached inside my chest and turned on the light. Everything made sense. It wasn’t even the kiss. It was what it meant. That he wanted to.” He laughed under his breath, but there was nothing funny about the sound.

“And then everything went to hell.”

She reached out again—tentatively—and this time he didn’t flinch. Her fingers folded over his hand, warm and trembling.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” she said. “Loving someone, liking someone, especially when it’s new and raw and terrifying… that’s not wrong.”

Nick stared at their hands.

“I kept thinking,” she continued, voice soft, “maybe you weren't ready to come to terms with liking a guy, and that also made me want to intervene. But I could never tell exactly what it was you both had going on”

He blinked, lips parted. “That… never even crossed my mind.”

“Not even deep down?”

He opened his mouth. Closed it.

Maybe it had. Maybe it lived in the pit of his stomach—the way he kept pushing Karl away just when things felt good. Maybe some part of him thought if no one knew, it wouldn’t be real. It wouldn’t be breakable.

“How are you going to tell your dad?” she asked.

“I wish you’d stop bringing him up. I don’t know,” he said tightly. “Maybe I won’t.”

“He loves you, he’s flying back in a few days. You can’t hide forever.”

“Maybe I want to.”

She didn’t argue. Just gave his hand the gentlest squeeze.

“Then we start small,” she said. “Just with you. Just… helping you feel safe again. But I do think you need time apart from him, I’m not budging on that.”

He said nothing because he knew she was right. Rain tapped against the roof. Slower now. Like even the sky had run out of energy. Nick didn’t move. And neither did the guilt. But at least, for now, it had company.

Chapter Text

Nick’s shoes hit the ground softly as he landed in the garden. He adjusted his hoodie, glanced up at Karl’s window once, then turned toward the street.

“Out late, aren’t we?”

Nick jumped. He hadn’t seen her there—Karl’s mom, standing at the edge of the porch in slippers, holding a half-full trash bag.

“Shit—sorry, I wasn’t—” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I was just leaving.”

She looked him over for a long moment. Not angry. Just tired. Still in her work clothes. Something in her face said she hadn’t really slept. “I can see that mister. Where have you been?”

“In his room” Nick confessed and she just let out a small laugh.

“I meant I haven't seen you in like a week. Fighting again?”

Nick hesitated. “Not fighting... Just not talking”

She didn’t yell. Didn’t ask why. Just nodded slowly, stepped down from the porch and tossed the bag into the bin. The silence hung between them until she broke it again.

“I’m really worried about him,” she said, voice quiet. “And you. I worry about you like you’re my own.”

Nick blinked hard, throat tightening.

“I’m getting help,” he said, carefully. “I promise. I want things to be better.”

“He’ll be okay too, you know.” He said after a beat.

She looked at him again, more closely this time.“You didn’t promise on that one.”

Nick swallowed. “I promise,” he said.

She gave a half-nod and stepped back up onto the porch. “How can I help him without pushing him away?”

“Just listen… let him talk. Don't judge, don't say anything. Just acknowledge him, make him feel seen”

Tears looked like they threatened to spill, like she truly saw how much he cared for her son.

As he turned to go, she added lightly, “You’re a good kid. I like you”

“I have that effect on people” He shrugged, trying to hide a grin.

“I’m locking that window, by the way.”

Nick let out a soft laugh, grateful for the levity. “Yes ma’am.”

Then he walked off into the dark.

—

Upstairs, Karl had heard the whole thing.

He was curled up on the landing like a ghost, knees pulled to his chest, arms wrapped around them. His heart was doing weird things again—too much, too full.

They sounded good together. Nick and his mom.

Too good.

He couldn’t let that fall apart. Not now.

So he stood up.

His legs were shaky, but he moved—quiet down the stairs, past the photos on the wall, the old creak near the third step. Into the kitchen.

She came in a few minutes later, half-expecting the lights to be off. Instead, she stopped cold in the doorway.

Karl was sitting cross-legged on the kitchen table, arms folded, bare feet swinging slightly. He was trying to look relaxed, but he’d clearly been crying. Eyes red. Shoulders tight.

“You’re on the table,” she said, brows raised.

He shrugged. “Figured this was the most dramatic place to stage a breakdown.”

She smiled softly, stepping further in. “Do I need to sit too?”

“Definitely.”

She pulled out a chair and sat, hands folded, waiting. Not pushing.

Karl stared at the grain in the wood between them.

“Buckle up, Mom.”

Her smile faltered, but she nodded once. “Alright. I'm not gonna talk I'm just going to listen… so whenever you're ready” She’d already taken Nick's advice.

He didn’t know where to start. So he just started.

The words spilled slowly at first. Then faster. How it started—missing meals, needing control, how it felt like the only thing that was his. The spirals. The rules. The shame. His body. The constant noise in his head. The days he couldn’t feel anything. The nights he felt too much. It was heavy. 

“And I fainted. And it really scared me and I didn't tell you because it meant actually realising something was wrong”

His voice cracked in places. He kept trying to be funny, throwing in jokes to make her laugh. She didn’t always. She just listened.

When he finished, it was quiet. The weight of it all hung in the space between them.

“I think that's everything” He exhaled, combing his hands through his hair. His mom looked shell-shocked.

“Holy shit” She whispered.

“I thought I had it under control,” he whispered. “But I think I’m drowning.”

She reached across the table, took his hand gently. “You’ve been treading water for a long time.”

He didn’t answer. Just wiped his face roughly with his sleeve.

“I’m glad you told me,” she said, still processing half of what had come out.

“Do you feel better?” she asked

“I feel lighter. Mentally and physically” he chuckled, prodding her with his elbow.

“That's not funny” she said sternly, forcing Karl to come back to reality.

He nodded, biting his lip. “So… what now?”

“We make a plan,” she said simply. “You don’t have to fix everything overnight. But we take the first steps. Therapy. School support. Real meals.”

He made a face.

She smiled faintly. “I know. We’ll figure it out.”

He leaned his head against the cabinet behind him and stared at the ceiling. “I just want things to be normal”

“I don’t think normal exists,” she replied. “But better? Better does.”

He let that sit.

Then, more quietly, he asked, “You’re not… disappointed in me?”

She looked at him like he’d just grown another head. “I’m proud of you.”

He blinked. “For… this?”

“For trusting me with it.”

He tried to smile again. “So I can still sit on the table?”

“No,” she said immediately.

He laughed. For real this time.

But then she hesitated. He noticed it.

“What?” he asked.

“Do you want to talk about Nick?”

His smile faded slightly.

“I like him,” Karl said. “A lot.”

“I know. And he clearly cares about you. But you both need time to focus on yourselves. On healing. I think it might be best if you don’t talk for a while.”

Karl looked down at their hands still joined on the table.

“I’m not saying forever,” she added. “But right now… you need space. You’ve just taken a huge step. Let that be enough for now.”

Karl didn’t answer for a long time. Then: “Can I tell him? That we’re pausing, not ending?”

“I think that’s fair.”

He nodded, staring at the floor. “He’s not gonna wait forever.”

“He doesn’t have to,” she said. “But if it’s real, he’ll still be there when you’re ready.”

Karl bit the inside of his cheek.

“I just got him,” he whispered. “Feels cruel to let go now.”

“You’re not letting go,” she said. “You’re letting yourselves breathe.”

“We kissed you know. And then I ran away”

“How was it?”

“He’s a good kisser, surprisingly. It felt like everything was okay for a moment and then I climbed out of his window-”

“Right we are putting a stop to window climbing. There are doors for a reason. Wait when did you even- I can't keep up with you two”

He chuckled again, things felt slower this time. The tears didn’t come again, but the tightness in his chest stayed, nothing seemed to elevate that feeling. For once he couldn't joke his way out of something, or flame the subject.

“Come to bed,” she said softly. “It’s late”

“In a sec.”

She stood, kissed the top of his head like she used to. “I’m proud of you, Karl.”

He sat on the table a few minutes longer after she left, legs still swinging.

He didn’t feel better yet. But he did. But he didn't. 

—

Karl [10:08 PM]:
hey

Karl [10:09 PM]:
i told her

Nick [10:11 PM]:
i know
she told me she was proud of you

Karl [10:12 PM]:
she said the same to me
i don’t think i’ve heard that in a long time

Nick [10:13 PM]:
i’m proud of you too

Karl [10:13 PM]:
stop

Nick [10:14 PM]:
no seriously
i know how hard that was

Karl [10:15 PM]:
it sucked
but also it didn’t
i think i feel... quieter

Nick [10:16 PM]:
that’s good

Karl [10:17 PM]:
how about you?
how are you doing?

Nick [10:19 PM]:
been asked that a thousand times this week
but thanks for being the one who actually means it

Karl [10:20 PM]:
always
even if we’re... pausing
still care

Nick [10:22 PM]:
me too
for the record
i don’t like this whole space thing

Karl [10:22 PM]:
same
but they’re right
we need to get our shit together

Nick [10:23 PM]:
i hate when moms are right
they’re also texting btw
mine said yours sent a heart emoji. i’m scared

Karl [10:23 PM]:
worst timeline
delete the internet

Nick [10:24 PM]:
this isn’t goodbye though
right?

Karl [10:24 PM]:
no.
it’s a pause.

Karl [10:26 PM]:
thank you
for not walking away

Nick [10:27 PM]:
you’ve got this, you know

Karl [10:28 PM]:
we’ve got this
even if it’s quiet

Nick [10:29 PM]:
quiet isn’t bad
quiet means we’re still here

Karl [10:32 PM]:
goodnight <3

Nick [10:33 PM]:
goodnight karl

Chapter Text

He’d been seeing Melissa for over a year.

On and off. Mostly off. His mom called it “check-ins.” Melissa called it “building safety.” Nick called it sitting on a soft chair and trying not to throw up from saying too much.

Today, though?
It was different. He promised himself he’d try—really try, and not leave any details out.

He sank into the chair like it might swallow him whole. Melissa didn’t open with small talk. She just waited. That’s what she always did. She knew him well enough to know what worked and what didn't.

Finally, he spoke. “He’s not talking to me right now. Not really. It’s not his fault, though. His mom wants us to take space. Mine too.”

Melissa nodded slowly. “Karl?”

“Yeah.” He brought Karl up a few times in the last sessions he had a few weeks ago.

“You’ve mentioned him before,” she said. “Your feelings seem to be more intense this time around. Do you want to talk about that?”

“It’s been worse lately.”

She didn’t write anything down, but he could feel her listening.

“He... saw some stuff. With my self-harm, he was the first person I told when I did it again. We’ve been… getting worse together. I think”

Melissa shifted in her seat. Not in a judgmental way—just like she was moving closer to something. Something Nick wasn't aware of yet.

“Tell me what you mean by getting worse together.”

“I think I made him feel responsible. And I felt responsible for him. Like if I didn’t hold it together, something would happen to him, I guess”

“That’s a lot for two people to carry.”

Nick laughed under his breath. “It felt normal at the time.”

She clicked a pen before taking a deep breath. “Sometimes when two people are struggling and become close, that closeness forms out of shared pain. That can feel very intense—very real. And it is real. But it’s also called trauma bonding.”

“So it’s bad?”

“Not bad. Just... fragile. Especially if neither of you are okay. Could that be why you feel responsible for him?”

Nick picked at the edge of the sleeve on his hoodie. His nails had left half-moons in the fabric. “Maybe”

“And when you say things got worse lately... what changed?”

He didn’t answer right away. “We kissed. He panicked. I panicked. I told him we needed to get help if we wanted things to work between us. But I don't want him to just do it because I want him to. I want him to get better because he wants to on his own. But at the same time, he’s killing himself and I was the only one who saw it, so again I felt responsibility”

“It sounds like you were trying to protect him”

“And now we can’t talk. And I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Melissa was quiet for a moment. “Do you think about him more than you think about yourself?”

“Yes.”

That was the most confident thing she’d ever heard him say. “And when that happens, what do you do?”

He hesitated. Then—because lying here had always felt pointless. “I start spiralling. When things go wrong I hurt myself or get the urge to hurt myself”

Melissa didn’t flinch. She just let the words settle. “Do you hurt yourself because of him?”

“No. I mean—yes? I don’t know. It’s not because of him. It’s because I feel like I ruin things. Like I hurt people even when I’m trying not to. And when I think I’ve made everything worse, it just... spirals. But because it’s him it feels a thousand times worse.”

“You’ve done that before. But not like this.”

Nick looked up sharply.

“You’ve sat in that chair a dozen times. You’ve dissociated, you’ve shrugged things off. But this? This is different. He’s the only person we’ve talked about this much. It’s like we’ve skipped past you entirely and gone straight to him.”

Nick didn’t say anything.

“Do you think these thoughts are obsessive?”

He flinched. “Don’t say that.”

Her tone softened, knowing she’d touched a nerve. “It’s not a judgment. It’s a sign of how much pain you’re in. You’ve attached your entire sense of safety to someone else who’s also unsafe.”

He blinked hard, eyes stinging. “I really felt like he understood me though”

“ And maybe for the first time, that made you feel seen which is perfectly valid.”

He bit the inside of his cheek. Hard.

“But Nick… if your whole sense of worth disappears when he does, that goes beyond caring for somebody”

“So what do I do?” he said barely above a whisper.

“You build safety in yourself. You learn to trust that you’re not responsible for anyone else. That your feelings are valid, and you don’t need to hurt yourself to cope with it.”

“How the fuck do I do that?”

“Baby steps. Taking this space away from Karl will give you time to prioritise how you feel. Learning how to feel safe on your own without using him as an anchor”

He nodded.

“How are the distraction techniques working for you?”

“Honestly I haven't tried them. Karl became my distraction”

“Thank you for being honest,” she said. “That’s an important insight. So how do you think you can start detaching from that and go back to using what we practised?”

Nick didn’t cry until the session was over and the door clicked shut behind him.
Not because he was sad.
Not because she said something cruel.
But because she was right. He felt exposed and embarrassed. And somehow, that hurt more than anything he’d done to himself lately.

—

Melissa closed her notes. What few there were. She hadn’t needed them.

Nick had finally let the dam break.

The room still felt full of him—his tension, his breath, his grief.

She dialled the number from memory. It rang twice.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Ms. Armstrong, It’s Melissa.”

A pause. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes and no,” Melissa said gently. “He came in today. He talked more than I’ve ever seen him talk. Which is a very good thing.”

“But?”

“But he’s clearly overwhelmed. He’s deeply enmeshed with a friend, exactly what you suspected, and while that connection seems meaningful, it’s also wrapped in shared trauma and emotional dependency. The more they pull apart, the more unstable he seems.”

Silence on the other end.

“I’m not trying to sound alarmist,” Melissa added. “But I do think it’s time we increased his sessions. Weekly, at least. Maybe more if things deteriorate. I want to support him— and you—through this.”

“I knew something was wrong,” his mom said quietly. “I just… he doesn’t always let me in and when he did I didn't know it was this bad”

“That’s okay. He’s still letting someone in, and that’s a start. But he’s carrying too much. I’d like us to keep a closer eye on him. Together.”

“I’ll make sure he comes. Can we book in for Sunday?”

“Yes, thank you. And if anything shifts—mood, behaviour, anything—you can call me directly. I'll help you”

“Thank you, Melissa. Really.”

After they hung up, Melissa sat for a long moment in the quiet.
She thought about Karl, whoever he was.
She thought about how sometimes love could look like drowning, and how easy it was for kids to mistake survival for connection.
And she hoped—truly hoped—that this would be the start of Nick's recovery.

——-

Date: Whatever. After therapy.

I told her everything.
Not everything, but… close. Closer than I’ve ever come to saying it out loud.
She said I’ve built my safety around someone who’s also unsafe.
And she’s not wrong. But it feels like shit. I miss him. I miss him so much it feels physical—like withdrawal. I keep wondering if he’s okay, if he’s eating, if he’s sleeping. If he’s thinking about me at all. Probably not. He’s good at turning it off. She said it’s a trauma bond. That word makes my skin crawl.
Because it sounds wrong. Like it wasn’t real. But it was.
It is. Or maybe I just wanted it to be.
I keep going over everything I did wrong. Every second I saw it going sideways and didn’t stop it. I keep thinking if I just stayed quiet, if I hadn’t told us to get help then maybe we’d still be alright. I don’t even know if the kiss made it worse. It felt like everhthing finally made sense between us, but maybe not. She asked what I do when I think about him too much.
I lied, sort of. I said I spiral. I didn’t say what that looks like. I didn’t tell her I sat in the shower yesterday until my fingers went numb.
That I wanted to scratch so bad I chewed the inside of my cheek raw instead.
It’s starting to feel like my head is louder than anything else. I want to be safe. I do.
But I don’t know how to do that without him. Maybe she’s right. Maybe this space is supposed to help.
But it just feels like being abandoned. Need sleep. Or try one of the stupid distraction things.

God his handwriting was horrific. The house was quiet. Too quiet.

Nick had closed his journal and shoved it under the mattress like it might bite him. The pen left a faint ink stain on the inside of his wrist—blue and smudged, like everything else lately.

He was lying on his side, hoodie still on, blanket twisted around his legs but not covering him. He hadn’t turned the lamp off yet. Or maybe he didn’t want to be alone in the dark.

There was a soft knock.

He didn’t answer.

The door creaked open anyway, hesitantly. His mom’s voice came through, softer than usual. “You decent?”

He grunted. Not a yes, not a no.

She stepped in, careful not to touch anything. Her eyes scanned the mess on the floor—the clothes he hadn’t washed, the unfinished water bottle by the bed, and piles of papers and schoolwork scattered on the floor.

“I talked to Melissa tonight,” she said, voice carefully neutral. “She told me you had a good session.”

He didn’t move. His mouth felt full of cotton as he ran his tongue over the jagged skin of his cheek.

“She thinks we should make them more frequent. Just for a while. She said you opened up a lot.”

Silence.

“Okay.” He mumbled. He knew this was coming.

His mom walked closer, her arms crossed, not in anger but in a kind of shield. “I’m really proud of you”

Nick’s stomach flipped, but he didn’t react. “Yeah.”

She sat down on the edge of the bed, careful to leave space. “If there's anything else on your mind you can talk to me”

Nick stared at the ceiling. “I don't think you’d care or even be able to make sense of it”

Her voice cracked, just a little. “I always care. Even when I don’t understand.”

Something in that— the honesty of it —hit harder than he expected.

She didn’t ask more questions. She didn’t push. Just sat with him, like Melissa had earlier, waiting in the silence.

After a few minutes, she shifted to stand. “I’m glad you talked today. That’s all I wanted to say.”

He almost let her leave.

Almost.

“Mom?”

She paused at the door.

“Thanks for… not freaking out.”

She gave him a small smile. “Thanks for giving me a reason not to.”

The door clicked shut behind her.

And for the first time all week, Nick let his eyes close without fighting it.

Chapter Text

The second time Karl stepped into Angela’s office, it felt different.

Familiar.

She’d met with him once before. It was just a casual intro with no pressure. Just enough time for him to make three jokes, compliment her mug, and leave feeling like he’d survived something.

Now?
This was real. It was terrifying.

He hovered in the doorway, building up his courage, before finally flopping into the chair across from her. His hoodie sleeves were too long, as always, and his bag slumped beside his feet like it had also given up.

Angela didn’t rush him. She just gave him that quiet, observant look. The kind people use when they’re listening with more than their ears.

“Good to see you again, Karl,” she said warmly.

He grinned. “Likewise. Do you not get bored doing this? You probably see, what, thirty tortured teens a week? How do you keep up?”

“Everyone has personality. You’re the only one who tried to rate my office decoration out of ten.”

“Still holding strong at a six, by the way.” He chuckled. 

Angela laughed, gently easing into the session. “Well, I appreciate the honesty.”

“I’m full of that,” he said. “Honesty. Brutal, inconvenient honesty. And charm. Obviously.”

She tilted her head slightly. “I think it's great that you know your strengths, I can see that in you”

He blinked, as if caught off-guard by the compliment. He tried to think of something, anything to avoid talking about his feelings.

“I painted my nails yesterday” he said, holding his hands up. “What do you think?”

Angela smiled warmly. “They look great!”

Karl beamed thrilled to keep the conversation afloat. “I did. It took me like two hours. I spilled the bottle halfway through and now there’s a massive stain on my desk. My mom still hasn’t noticed. I put a textbook over it and then my textbook stuck to the desk so I hope I don't need to use it.” He chuckled.

“Resourceful.”

“It was. Maybe I should have tried cleaning it up first before covering it” These words seemed deeper than a stain on a desk.

“Is that something you do a lot?” She questioned, eyebrows raised.

He didn’t bite and just kept talking. Charming, fast, full of stories that were maybe only 60% about nail polish and 40% about needing to feel in control of something.

“It’s funny,” he added, turning his hands palm-up. “Painting my nails used to feel like… a rebellion or something. Now I just like it. It’s one of the few things that makes me feel like—me. I think.”

“You’re sure about that?”

Karl hesitated, then shrugged. “Sure-ish.”

She waited. Let the silence sit there, soft and warm, like a held-out hand.

“I don’t know,” he said finally. “I’m comfortable with the outer stuff. Hair, clothes, nails, whatever. That stuff’s easy.”

“And the not-so-easy stuff?”

He laughed once, quiet. “Everything else?”

Angela didn’t speak. Just nodded.

Karl’s knee bounced.

“I’ve been thinking about it,” he said, voice shifting a little, still light, but thinner now, less polished. “Like… I don’t know who I am without the mental stuff. The eating stuff. The jokes. All of it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… I don’t know what my actual personality is. Like, who I’d be if I weren’t constantly performing or spiraling or trying not to be a burden. Take all of that away, who am I?”

Angela leaned forward slightly. “Do you feel like a burden?”

Karl rubbed his hands together. “Sometimes. Most of the time, if I’m honest.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m too much,” he said, too quickly. Then paused. “Like… I get involved when people don’t want me to. I show up and make things worse, and then I hate myself for it, so I disappear. And then that hurts people too.”

His words hung in the air for a second longer than he meant them to.

He cleared his throat. “Not that I’m, like, trying to make this a tragedy. Just… I don’t really know how to do middle ground. I’m either all in or totally detached.”

“And neither one feels good?”

“Not really. I used to think it was a strength, actually. Being the person who cares. The one who fixes things. But it’s like… I never learned how to… just be. Without the intensity.”

He stared at the floor, lips pressed tight.

Angela’s voice stayed gentle. “And when you feel like you’re too much… how do you cope?”

He didn’t answer at first.

“By disappearing,” he said eventually. “By not eating. By shrinking. If I can’t be less emotionally, at least I can take up less space physically. And then putting on a big show”

“And has that always been your way of coping?”

Karl looked away. His voice, when it came, was quiet. “I’m not sure when it started. But I’ve never been confident. I’ve never liked what I see. I’ve never felt… happy with myself.”

“Do you think anyone helped shape that feeling?”

He didn’t answer for a while.

“My dad.”

Angela waited.

“He was the one person who made me feel like I was something. Like I mattered. And when he left, it just…” Karl exhaled, long and slow. “It felt like the version of me that he liked disappeared with him. And the rest? The parts that stayed? I didn’t know what to do with them.”

“That’s a hard loss.”

“Yeah,” he said. “And with my mom, it’s not like she doesn’t care. She just doesn’t see it. But I’m hiding it at the same time. I cover it up and get mad when nobody notices. And it really frustrates me because-”

“It’s not true.”

“Especially because it’s not true. I feel like everyone should recognise when I’m not being me and they don’t”

Angela’s voice softened again. “So you’ve had to hold all of this, this confusion, this sadness, while pretending everything’s okay on the outside?”

Karl nodded once.

“Okay. This is good. This is progress. Let’s talk more about that… masking”

He swallowed hard. “Yeah. I feel that if I never did that, I would have put myself in this position”

—

Karl sat on the stone steps outside the therapy building, his hands tucked into his sleeves like they might hold him together. The city felt too loud, buses coughing down the street, a group of school kids yelling in the distance, the echo of traffic like it was trying to catch up to him. Maybe it was because Angela’s office was deadly quiet.

His phone buzzed in his pocket.
He pulled it out half hoping for a name he wasn’t ready to see.

Alex: u done yet or still unpacking childhood trauma

Karl huffed out a laugh, the smallest one all day.

Karl: finished
still emotionally unstable tho
where u at?

Alex: near the fountain. i’m bringing snacks and sarcasm. don’t be weird

Karl: i’m always weird :)

—

He found Alex sitting cross-legged on the ledge by the fountain, a half-eaten packet of biscuits in one hand and his phone in the other. His hoodie sleeves were pushed up, earbuds tangled in his lap like a forgotten distraction.

Alex looked up when Karl approached. “Well. Look who’s emotionally available now.”

Karl gave him a dry look, dropping onto the stone beside him. “One session doesn’t make me enlightened.”

Alex offered him a biscuit.

Karl hesitated. But he took one. Just enough to prove something to himself.

They sat in silence for a minute—sunlight glinting off the water, distant laughter from the park behind them. Karl could feel himself watching it all from the outside again, but less so than usual. He was still in it this time. Even if only halfway.

After a moment, he said, “Sorry I’ve been kind of... not around.”

Alex glanced at him sideways. “You mean emotionally or physically?”

“Both. I guess.”

Alex shrugged. “Figured you needed space. But yeah, you kinda ghosted.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Karl said. “Everything just got... loud. And then I didn’t know how to explain it without sounding like a disaster. And I hate explaining.”

Alex didn’t tease. He just nodded. “I get it.”

“I haven’t really prioritised our friendship,” Karl admitted. “And that sucks. You’ve always been here for me. And I didn’t show up.”

Alex picked at the edge of the biscuit packet. “I was a little pissed. Not gonna lie. But I also get it. Stuff’s been... heavy. I’m sorry I didn't notice”

Karl dusted the biscuit crumbs of his hands. “It’s not your job to notice. You’re not responsible for me. Look, I don’t want to be the friend who disappears every time things get hard. I don’t want to keep doing that.”

Alex looked at him properly this time. “Then don’t.”

“I’m trying.”

And it felt like the truest thing he’d said all day.

Alex didn’t say anything profound. He just leaned over, bumped Karl’s shoulder lightly with his own, and said, “As long as you still like me the best then it’s fine”

Karl grinned, even if it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Obviously. You’re irresistible.”

They sat for a while, the biscuit packet empty between them. Karl didn’t feel full. But he didn’t feel sick either. He felt alright.

It was a start.

Alex stretched out his legs, letting his shoes scrape against the stone. “Can I ask you something?”

Karl glanced at him. “Yeah.”

“It’s about Nick.”

Karl’s jaw tensed slightly, but he nodded. “Go on.”

“You okay with him?”

Karl looked back at the water. The question hit soft but deep. “I don’t know,” he said finally. “It’s complicated.”

“Too complicated?”

Karl breathed out through his nose, more of a sigh than anything else. “Feels like it, sometimes. Like I’m constantly trying to keep up with a version of him I don’t fully understand.” Karl twirled a few blades of grass between his fingers.

Alex nodded slowly, as if he wasn’t surprised. Then, after a moment, he asked, “How come we never became a thing?”

Karl blinked. It wasn’t said to make things weird. Just quiet. Honest. They’d never said it out loud before. But it had always hovered there. The alternate version of them that never quite happened.

“I dunno,” he said eventually. “Timing, maybe? Honestly I’m not sure”

“We were scared, maybe?” Alex said, not unkindly.

Karl smiled faintly. “Yeah. Probably.”

He leaned forward a little, forearms on his knees. “If we did... I imagine it wouldn’t have gone like this. With Nick, I mean.”

Alex didn’t respond right away.

“With you, it’s calm,” Karl said. “Like, when I’m around you, my brain actually shuts up. I can breathe. And I didn’t realise how rare that was until... everything else.”

“You’re not the only one who’s had some chaos lately,” Alex said. “But yeah. I get what you mean.”

Karl hesitated, then added, “You’re make things feel normal. I don't know if I’d be enough for you.”

“What and Nick doesn't make things feel normal?”

“Not at the moment…”

“Also you’re more than enough for me. Always have been. Just so you know”

“Even with everything else?”

“You say that like being a little bit messed up makes you unlovable.”

“No,” Karl said quietly. “Just... harder to be with I think.”

Silence stretched again. It didn’t feel heavy.

“Maybe,” Karl said slowly, “when all this is over...”

Alex looked at him, eyes soft. “Yeah?”

Karl’s voice was quieter now. “Maybe we could try. You and me.”

Alex smiled—but it didn’t push for more. “Maybe.”

And that was enough.

Not a promise.

But a possibility.

They sat until the shadows grew longer and the air cooled. The world kept turning, and for once, Karl didn’t feel like he was falling off the edge of it.

—

The house was quiet when Karl got home. Nothing new. He dropped his bag in the hallway, kicked his shoes halfway under the radiator, and made it to the kitchen before realising he didn’t actually want anything. He opened the fridge anyway, stared blankly at the shelves. Milk. A container of pasta. Something mysterious wrapped in foil. No thanks. His fingers hovered over the carton of juice, then dropped to his side.

He shut the fridge.

It was still progress, wasn’t it? Sitting with Alex. Talking. Eating, even if he still hated the way that biscuits clung to his teeth. But he hadn’t panicked. He hadn’t frozen. For a second, the world had actually felt like it might be something he could live in.

Karl leaned back against the counter and let his head tip against the cupboard door. Therapy had cracked him open in all the ways he didn’t want to admit. He couldn’t stop thinking about the session, when he briefly mentioned Nick and Angela almost immediately mentioned trauma bonding.

Nick had seen him, really seen him, in all the ways no one else had. And that made everything harder, didn’t it? Because maybe what they had was real, and maybe it was a coping mechanism. A lifeline they’d both mistaken for love because they were drowning at the same time.

And that felt worse when he thought about Alex. Alex, who didn’t make everything hurt. Who didn’t pull things out of him with silent stares and jagged words. He just let Karl be, let him exist. And maybe that was the point, maybe that was what he needed. Alex made the world soft. Nick made it sharp. Karl didn’t know what he wanted more.

His phone buzzed.

He picked it up and saw the notification about Alex adding to his story. He tapped on it.

The first photo was a blurry shot of the two of them by the fountain. Karl mid-laugh, head tipped back, eyes crinkled at the corners. He looked… alive. Not performing. Not hiding. Just there. He looked like himself.

He smiled faintly, thumb still resting against the screen. The next story was in the park, sun low and golden through the trees. In the corner, a tiny red heart. Simple. Thoughtless, maybe. But something about it made Karl exhale, slow and quiet.

He exited the app, but didn’t lock his phone. Instead, he opened his camera roll.

There, buried between screenshots and homework and half-finished notes, were photos he hadn’t looked at in weeks.

Nick, eyes half-closed, sun on his face. Nick in his room, hoodie sleeves pulled over his hands, blinking at Karl like he didn’t know what to do with the attention. Nick looking away just before he smiled.

Karl sat down on the edge of his bed, thumb hovering. He didn’t delete them. He just stared.

Chapter Text

Nick had been staring at the same wall for twenty minutes.

It was just a wall. Off-white. Slightly scuffed. Not much to look at, and yet that was all he was doing. Eventually, he blinked away the dryness in his eyes, reached for his phone, and checked the same things he’d been checking all day.

No new notifications.

He opened their message thread anyway.

The last message sat there, stupid and small.

Goodnight Karl

That was it. That was the last thing he’d managed. He was frustrated there was nothing else after that. Not I miss you or I hate this or Please just tell me if you’re done with me. Just something neutral. Almost like an end to the conversation.

He locked his phone. Unlocked it again.

Instagram this time. He told himself it was just to check memes. Distractions. But his brain was already in that sharp, self-sabotaging place. He opened Alex’s story before he could stop himself.

And there it was.

Karl, sitting on the fountain ledge, mid-laugh, head thrown back like everything was fine.

Nick’s stomach dropped. He tapped again. The park. Sunlight through the trees. Peaceful, golden, effortless.

A red heart in the corner.

He stared at it. Something behind his ribs twisted so hard it stole his breath. He didn’t even know what it meant. Maybe nothing. Maybe Alex just liked how the light looked or was just happy they were having a nice day. Maybe Karl had laughed like that with everyone but him, and Nick never realised because Karl was too wrapped up with him.

Nick shut the story and dropped his phone face down on the bed.

He should have been happy Karl had a good day. That he was smiling again. That maybe something was working.

But all he could think was: Why not with me?

Why did it always feel so hard when it was them? It wasn't fair.

His chest ached. Not the dramatic kind. The dull, dragging kind that sat behind his ribs and didn’t go away when he shifted. He pulled his knees up to his chest, resting his forehead on them. He tried not to cry. He tried not to think about Karl’s laugh in someone else’s world.

Eventually, he picked his phone back up. Opened their thread.

He typed:

I miss you.

Paused. Backspaced.

Tired today. Have you started therapy yet? How’s it going?. You don’t have to reply.

Backspaced that, too.

Started typing I saw you on Alex’s—

Deleted it.

In the end, he just stared at the blinking cursor in the empty message box.

Then locked his phone again.

—

The wind cut through him as he left through the door, hoodie strings whipping against his cheek, shoes scuffing hard over the garden path. His breath clouded in the air. He didn’t even realise how cold he was until he was climbing the fence that separates their gardens, palms stinging against the metal.

He didn’t think. He just moved. Up and over.

He dropped down into the garden and stood there for a second, heart racing. His hands were trembling. Not just from the cold. From everything.

The house was dark except for Karl’s window—lamplight spilling faintly through the curtain. Like always, he took that as an invitation, and up he went.

He raised his hand to knock.

Paused.

Then knocked twice, too soft the first time, harder the second. His heart was hammering so loudly it drowned out the silence around him.

The curtain shifted. Pulled back.

Karl’s face appeared behind the glass—confused at first, then stunned. And then something darker. Anger? Fear? Disappointment? Nick couldn’t tell. Whatever it was it made his stomach twist.
The window cracked open, only a sliver.

Karl’s voice: low, sharp. “What the fuck are you doing?”

He didn’t wait for permission.

Nick shoved the window further open and climbed through before Karl could stop him. His foot caught slightly on the frame. He stumbled, caught himself on the edge of the desk.

Karl stepped back. Not far. But enough to feel like a line.

Nick straightened slowly, breath shaking. “I just—I didn’t know where else to go.”

“You shouldn’t be here,” Karl snapped. “Nick, what the hell are you doing?”

Nick looked at him like he couldn’t quite believe the reaction. “I needed to see you.”

“You’re not supposed to be here.” Karl’s arms were crossed, jaw tight. “Are you trying to screw everything up?”

That landed like a slap. Nick’s expression cracked.

“This was your idea. This whole thing, why are you going against it?” Karl hissed.

“I know,” Nick said. His voice was quiet but shaking. “I don't know what’s going on… I don't think-” His throat closed up. “I miss you.” The words were barely audible.

Karl didn’t move. He looked like he wanted to. But he didn’t.

“I can’t do this alone,” Nick said.

“You have to try, Nick.” Karl’s voice was tight. Controlled. “Come on, it’s been two weeks.”

Nick’s voice rose. “It’s been two weeks and I feel like I’m disappearing.”

Karl blinked at that, visibly stung.

Nick stepped forward, just once. “She said it was a trauma bond. That everything between us was just damage feeding on damage.” He laughed, sharp and sad and bitter. “Is that what it was? Was it all just—just us drowning in each other and calling it love?”

The word stopped the room cold.

Karl flinched.

Not visibly — not enough that anyone else would’ve noticed. But something behind his eyes shifted. Pulled tight.

Nick froze too, realising it was too late. His eyes widened. “I didn’t mean—”

Karl cut in, voice low and strained: “Don’t do that.”

Nick blinked. “Do what?”

Karl looked at him, tired and raw and furious underneath it all. “Say the one word you know I can’t hear right now.”

“I wasn’t trying to—”

“You were. Or maybe not on purpose. But you knew it would hurt.”

Nick took a step back, guilt catching in his throat.

Karl’s voice cracked slightly. “Nick, I can’t do this if you’re just going to say the one thing you know will pull me back.”

Silence.

Nick's lips parted like he might apologise, or explain, or beg. But he didn’t.

Karl shook his head once. “Was any of it real?” he repeated, throwing Nick’s question back at him. Almost like he was asking himself.

Then, after a beat too long: “I don’t know. Maybe it was the only thing that felt real. And that’s what makes it dangerous.”

Nick stood still, arms folded tightly across himself like he could hold everything in. “You think I’m a mistake now?”

Karl looked at him.

“I never said that,” he said quietly. “I think you’re the only thing that ever made me feel this much. And that’s the problem.”

Nick closed his eyes. “You said you don't know but it’s a simple question, Karl. Was it real?” he repeated. “Anything we felt? Anything at all?”

Karl looked at him for a long, aching moment. His mouth opened. Closed. The silence was worse than anything Nick had braced for.

Karl swallowed. Looked down. “You need to leave.”

The words landed like a slap. Nick stepped back as if they physically moved him.

He nodded slowly, mouth pressed into a tight line, breath shallow. He stepped back toward the window, hand reaching out for the ledge without looking.

“Karl, I—”

“Go”

Nick didn’t answer.

He climbed back out the way he came.

And this time, Karl didn’t watch him go.

—

Karl’s POV

The window slid shut with a soft, final click.

Karl locked it. Then stood there for a moment, fingers still curled around the latch like letting go might undo what just happened.

His room felt too quiet. The lamp buzzed faintly beside his bed. The air was heavy, the kind that settles when something important has just left it.

He didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe properly until he heard Nick’s footsteps crunch the gravel below, fading into the night.

Gone.

Karl backed away from the window slowly. Sat down on the edge of his bed like his legs couldn’t quite hold him anymore. His hands were shaking and he hated that they were. He was supposed to feel in control now. He’d said the right thing. Done what his therapist would’ve told him to do.

He should feel stronger for it.

But all he felt was hollow.

His eyes drifted to his desk, where Nick had steadied himself just minutes ago. A faint smudge on the edge of the wood. Maybe from Nick’s sleeve, maybe not. But it was enough.

He looked away.

Karl pressed his palms over his face and tried to breathe.

“You’re the only thing that ever made me feel something. And that’s the problem.”

He hadn’t meant to say that. Not like that. But it was true. All of it was true. And that was what scared him the most.

The word still echoed in his head.

Love.

Nick had said it without meaning to. Karl had felt it like a punch to the chest.

He lay back on the bed without bothering to pull the duvet over himself, staring up at the ceiling where his glow-in-the-dark stars had long since faded. His throat felt tight. His body was buzzing the way it always did after a fight, jittery, light-headed, like he was both too full and too empty.

He reached for his phone. Opened his photos.

Nick, grinning sleepily in Karl’s hoodie. Nick with his legs crossed on the floor, was scribbling something in a notebook. Nick blurry in motion, caught mid-laugh, mid-sentence, mid-moment.

Karl swiped through them like he was tracing the edges of something already lost.

Then opened his messages and sifted through their text thread. Karl hovered over his keyboard. His thumbs waited for a moment as he thought of a million things to say, but then decided against it.

He couldn’t. He wouldn't.

Instead, he opened his notes. Decided to spill everything there to avoid any further damage. He stared at the blank page for a while. Then typed, frantically:

I didn’t mean to say it like that.
It’s not that I don’t feel it. It’s that I feel it too much.
And I’m scared that if I go back to you now, I’ll never find myself again.

He sat with the words for a long time.

Then deleted the entire thing.

Chapter Text

Karl sat at the kitchen table with one hand curled around a mug of tea that had long gone cold. His fingers were numb, and his eyes stung from lack of sleep, but he couldn’t stop blinking. Like if he just kept looking at the world hard enough, maybe it would all feel less unreal. Less fragile.

His mom was standing at the stove, quiet. She hadn’t asked why he looked like hell. She never did, not right away. Just moved through the motions — kettle boiling, bread popping from the toaster, butter scraping across the edge of a knife with methodical rhythm.

Karl finally spoke, barely above a murmur.

“He came over last night.”

The knife paused mid-swipe.

She turned a little. “Nick?”

Karl nodded once, the motion heavy.

His mom didn’t ask how. Didn’t gasp or scold. Just waited like she always did when she knew the answer mattered more than the reaction.

“Through the window,” Karl added after a beat.

Now she turned fully, leaning her hip against the counter, arms crossed loosely. Not angry. Just listening.

Karl stared down into the pale swirl of tea leaves settled at the bottom of his mug. “I didn’t ask him to. He just… showed up. But I let him in too so I don't know”

She was quiet a moment, face expressionless like she was thinking about her reaction. “Are you okay?”

Karl shrugged. “Yeah. I told him to leave.”

“Did you want him to?”

He swallowed, jaw tensing. “No. I mean…” He ran a hand over his face, suddenly aware of how hollow his skin felt beneath his palm. “Yes. I had to. He said things. He was upset. I was upset. I was mad, that he did that. It felt like he was trying to sabotage everything”

Another pause. His voice dropped. “He touched the desk. I haven’t wiped it off yet but there’s blood on it. I’m worried”

His mom didn’t say anything at first, but her face changed, something subtle in her mouth, her brow, like the words had landed somewhere deeper than her ears. She understood the weight of a smudge that hadn’t been erased.

“I think he thought if he said the right thing, I’d let him stay,” Karl said. “Like we could go back to how we were before. But we can’t. We… can’t.”

His mom walked over, slid the slightly burnt toast in front of him without a word, and sat down across from him. She didn’t reach for his hand. She didn’t touch him at all. But she looked at him, like really looked, it was as if she was finally seeing how tired he was. How old he suddenly felt.

“I think you did the right thing,” she said softly. “Even if it didn’t feel like it. And I’m proud of you for setting a boundary”

Karl nodded. But it didn’t make him feel better. He opened his mouth, hesitated. “He said something about love.”

His mom blinked slowly, lips pressed together tightly ready to take on the severity of the situation. “What kind of something?”

Karl’s fingers tightened around the mug. “He didn’t say he loved me. Not exactly. But… it felt like that’s what he meant. Or maybe what he was trying to figure out.” He glanced up, eyes flickering with uncertainty. “What if he is? What if he’s in love with me and I told him to leave?”

She took a breath. “Do you feel the same way?”

Karl didn’t answer right away. He just blinked again, slower this time. “I’ve been thinking about Alex,” he said after a while. “Not like that. Just… how it’s different. I’ve never questioned things with him. Never worried if I was making it harder for someone just by existing.” He drew a line on the table with his fingertip. “What if I change my mind and Nick’s gone through all of this for nothing?”

His mom reached for her mug now, even though she hadn’t poured anything in it. She held it like a weight in her hands.“Sweetheart,” she said gently, “Nick’s pain isn’t your fault. It’s not a punishment for knowing you.”

Karl exhaled shakily. “I don’t know if I believe that though.”

“You’re allowed not to know.” She set the empty mug down and leaned forward just a little. “But I do. And I think you’re making this a lot harder for yourself. You’re healing, you’re trying to get better. A relationship shouldn't even be on the cards right now”

Silence pulsed between them again, thick but not unbearable. Just present. After a while, she reached across and pushed her hand over his lightly, grounding without gripping.

“I’ll call his mom today,” she said. “Check in. Let her know we’re… all keeping an eye out.”

Karl looked up at her, unsure whether to feel relief or guilt.

“Don’t worry,” she added. “That part’s on me. Not you. But if you’re desperate to know, I’ll give you an update. Okay?”

Karl gave a faint nod, and this time, it settled in his chest a little differently. Not comfort, exactly but something like it. The first flicker of permission to relax.

“Now go get dressed,” she said with a softness that was more solid than any hug. “Try to have a normal day, if you can. You don’t have to fix everything.”

Karl stood slowly, the chair scraping back with a quiet sigh. Relieved that he didn't have to eat, not after that.

But before he left the room, he paused in the doorway. “Thanks, Mom” he said. And even though he didn’t turn around, he meant it.

His mom waited until he was gone before picking up his untouched toast and pouring his tea down the sink. Good days, bad days. She reached for her phone, and the second that front door shut she made the call.

Nick’s mom answered on the third ring.

Her voice was cautious. Guarded. “Hi, Sarah.”

Karl’s mom pressed the phone between her ear and shoulder, rubbing her temple with both hands. “Hi,” she said gently. “Do you have a minute?”

A pause followed, long enough to feel like both women were bracing themselves. “Of course,” Nick’s mom finally said.

The silence between them was long and familiar, the kind that had existed since their boys first got tangled up in each other. Since things had stopped being simple. Neither of them wanted to speak first. Neither of them wanted to be the one to say it out loud. But someone had to.

“Karl told me Nick came by last night,” Sarah said softly. “Through the window.”

Nick’s mom exhaled, hard. “God.”

“He didn’t stay,” Sarah added quickly. “Karl sent him away. But I thought you should know.”

There was a monent of quiet.“I didn’t even hear him leave,” She said. Her voice was low, ashamed. “He was in his room when I went to bed. I thought he was asleep.”

“I’m not calling to blame you,” Sarah said. “I just… I thought you deserved to know where he was. Maybe where he's at”

Nick’s mom was quiet for a long time. Then: “Thank you.”

Sarah sat more upright feeling the weight lift off her. “He said Nick looked like he hadn’t slept,” she murmured. “That he was… different. I think he’s worried, more than he's letting on”

“I know” Nick’s mom admitted, voice cracking. “He doesn’t talk to me. He barely eats, he barely moves. He keeps saying he’s fine, but I can see it. He’s slipping again and I—” She stopped herself, a breath shuddering through the line. “I don’t know how to reach him anymore.”

Sarah’s voice softened. “I think Karl’s slipping too. But it looks different. Quieter.”

Another long pause.

Then Nick’s mom said, “I think he's in love… or he thinks he is. His therapist has been filling me in. I can barely keep up with where he's at”

It was barely more than a whisper. But it cracked something open.

“I know,” Karl’s mom agreed, steadier this time. “I think it sucks that this is their first experience of love”

“I know,”

“They keep finding each other,” she added. “Even when we tell them not to.”

Nick’s mom gave a quiet, bitter laugh. “I would’ve done the same at their age.”

Sarah allowed herself a tired smile. “Yeah. Me too.”

The silence after that wasn’t as heavy as it had been.

Nick’s mom was the one to break it this time. “He’s been homeschooling,” she said. “Just until things settle. I thought maybe it would help him catch up, give him space, but…” She sighed. “It’s only made him more isolated. He barely leaves his room. He doesn’t see his friends, doesn’t respond to messages. It’s just me. Me and him and—this heaviness in the house that I don’t know how to lift.”

Sarah didn’t interrupt. She just listened.

“And Toby,” Nick’s mom added, her voice catching. “Toby’s been staying at his friend’s house most nights. I didn’t even notice at first — I was so focused on Nick. I thought I was doing the right thing, but all I’m doing is failing them both.”

“You’re not failing them,” Sarah said quietly. “You’re trying.”

Nick’s mom gave a hollow sort of laugh. “Trying doesn’t feel like enough when your kid is sneaking out of windows and the other one’s being completely neglected”

Sarah rubbed at her forehead, her thumb brushing the corner of her eye. “You’re not alone.”

There was a pause, like maybe Nick’s mom was letting that settle before she went on.

“His dad’s coming back next week,” she said eventually. “He’s been working along the coast. Wants to take Nick with him for a while — just a few weeks. Said maybe some space would help. Somewhere quiet. Out of the city.”

Sarah hesitated. “Would Nick go?”

“I don’t know.” Her voice dropped, fragile and raw. “He might. If he thinks there’s nothing left for him here.”

Sarah shut her eyes briefly, pressing her fingers against her lips. “If it were Karl… I’d want him to go before things got worse.”

“So would I,” Nick’s mom said. “But I’m starting to wonder if I already missed the chance.”

The words sank between them, painful, honest, real.

Sarah opened her mouth, then paused. “Would it be the worst thing?” she asked softly. “The trip, I mean. Just long enough for things to settle. For you to catch your breath. Let the boys have real space?”

Nick’s mom didn’t answer right away. “I don’t know. I hate the thought of sending him away like that. But maybe he needs it. I think I do too.”

Sarah nodded slowly. “Maybe a break wouldn’t be the end of the world.”

“They’re not bad kids,” Nick’s mom said at last. “They’re just… hurting. And too wrapped up in each other to see straight.”

Sarah’s voice was steady. “They’re scared. That’s what it looks like to me. Scared of what they feel. Scared of losing it. Scared of what comes next.”

“I just want him to be okay,” Nick’s mom whispered. “Is that too much to ask?”

“No,” Sarah said, firm. “It’s not.”

Another silence. But this one felt like a closing circle. A mutual understanding.

“Thank you for calling,” Nick’s mom said softly.

Sarah exhaled. “I’ll keep checking in. We’ll figure it out.”

“We have to.”

When the call ended, Sarah sat at the table a little longer, staring out the kitchen window at nothing in particular.

Chapter Text

Three weeks since he stood in that dim, too-quiet room and tried to speak the unspeakable. Since he’d looked into Karl’s eyes and thought for one breathless second that maybe it wasn’t too late.

It was.

Now, everything felt colder. Not just the weather. The house. The silence. Himself. And he hated it.

Melissa’s number was saved on speed dial now. It had its own little slot beneath Mom, Toby, and 999 — like some kind of lifeline he wasn’t sure he deserved to use. He didn’t call. Not yet. But knowing it was there made the ache in his chest feel a little less terminal.

There was a camera above the front door too, always watching. His mom installed it the day after he went to Karl’s. Said it was “just in case.” She didn’t need to say in case of what. Nick knew that she knew, he heard the entire call. And she plastered on a face and carried on. She didn't yell, get upset, or book an emergency appointment. Just a few preventative measures and then back to normal.

His window was locked. Permanently. The key, gone. And his bedroom door? That stayed open now. Not with malice. Not even with mistrust. Just open. He wasn’t allowed to walk home alone anymore. Or go into town. Or leave without saying exactly where, with who, and for how long.
He didn’t argue with that one.
Where would he even go?

The school had quietly agreed to let him continue homeschooling. “For stability,” they’d said. As if sitting in the same four walls every day, in a room that now felt smaller than a coffin, counted as stable.
But it meant not seeing Karl.
Not hearing his name whispered down hallways.
Not brushing shoulders in crowded corridors and pretending it didn’t hurt.

Not pretending at all.

They hadn’t spoken since that night.
No texts.
No calls.
Nothing.

Nick constantly revisited that night. The look on his face, the fear, the disappointment, the anger. He thought about how he should have left the second he saw Karl's reaction to him climbing through the window. But he didn't, and here he was now.

And, his dad was back.
Just like that.

After three months working on the coast and calling at odd hours, leaving voicemails that Nick never listened to. After saying, “I’ll come home when things settle down,” and meant, when I don’t have to face it.

Now he was in the kitchen with a takeout bag and a grin like none of it had happened. Like the last six months were just a miscommunication. Granted he appreciated his dad not packing everybody up again this time to go with him but still.

“This is all yours,” he’d said, gesturing at the pile of fries, the greasy burger. “All your favourites, yeah?”

Nick hadn’t told him those weren’t his favourites anymore.
He’d just eaten quietly while his dad talked about sea air and fishing boats and silence.
About how peaceful it is out there, how good it could be for you, how proud I’d be to have you come with me.

A few weeks on the coast. That was the offer.

Just long enough for the dust to settle.
Just far enough to forget how much it still hurt.

His mom hadn’t said anything when they brought it up. She just looked tired.
Her eyes had this way of flickering when she was trying not to cry.
Nick saw it.

She said it was his choice. But he could feel the relief behind her when he said he'd think about it. He was hurting everybody here, not just Karl, not just himself.

Toby was barely home anymore. Always at a friend’s house, sleeping over, eating dinner somewhere else.
Nick hadn’t even noticed at first. That was the worst part.
His mom had. And the guilt in her voice when she admitted it, that she’d been so focused on keeping one son from falling apart that she forgot the other was drifting too, was something Nick wasn’t sure how to carry. But when did he ever know how to carry anything ever? 

Karl had disappeared. Or maybe Nick had.
At some point, it stopped feeling like a difference.

The last time he’d seen him was from the passenger seat of the car, parked outside the school for a meeting. Karl had been walking across the front steps, hoodie pulled low, earbuds in, gaze locked on the pavement like it might break if he looked up.

He hadn’t looked up.

And that was the part that stuck.
Not the silence. Not the locked window or the open door or the camera above the house.
Just that moment. That passing. That near-miss that wouldn't have been a near miss a few weeks ago. He really had ruined everything.

Nick turned back to the window and watched the street below.
The world kept moving. Quiet. Oblivious.

Downstairs, his dad was waiting for an answer.
The coast was quiet, apparently. Peaceful.
Clean slates and salt air and long walks with no one watching.

He hadn’t said yes.
He hadn’t said no.
Just held the silence like it might answer for him. But he only had 2 days to decide.

Chapter Text

Karl,

I wanted to say goodbye in person. I almost asked if I could.

But then I thought about that night when I climbed through your window, when I said too much and stayed too long. About how tired you looked. About how hard it must’ve been to tell me to go. And how much it probably cost you to not shut the window in my face the second I showed up. I thought maybe showing up again would undo everything you’ve been working so hard for. So I didn’t.

I thought about what you’ve been through, not just with me, but with everything. And the truth is, I don’t know where you’re at right now. Not really. And I couldn’t stand the thought of showing up again, making it worse. I know how much you’re fighting, even if you don’t say it. Especially because you don’t say it. I know what that kind of quiet looks like now.

So instead of seeing you, I’m writing this and I’m giving you a hoodie too. Your favourite one of mine.

It kept me warm when I couldn’t sleep. When I felt like I was going to disappear if I didn’t hold onto something. It reminded me that I’m not crazy. That what we had was real, even if it hurts now.
Maybe it’ll do the same for you. Or maybe you’ll shove it in the back of your closet and never look at it again. I wouldn’t blame you.

If you’re reading this I left with my dad a few hours ago.
Just for a little while. A few weeks. Maybe longer. I don’t know.
I need space. I need to figure out who I am when I’m not breaking.
And maybe you need that too.

But I didn’t want to leave without saying something. Without leaving something.

I miss you.
I never stopped, don't think I will anytime soon.
But I’m starting to understand why you asked me to leave.
And I’m sorry it took me this long to get it.

If I don't stop writing now I’ll never stop. So take  care of yourself, okay?
Not just the version of you that holds everything together. All of you.

– Nick

He read it again.

The first time too fast. The second time too slow. The third, fourth and fifth time it started to jumble itself together and make no sense.

By the end, he was still staring at the final line — “I’m sorry it took me this long to get it.”
His fingers gripped the page like it might blow away.

Nick was gone.

Not forever. But not here.
Not next door.
Not walking past him in school.
Not standing in his window with that stupid look on his face like maybe it could all be fixed if they just said the right things.

He folded the letter carefully and set it on the table.
The hoodie stayed in his lap. The plain black one with a flame on it, Karl always complimented that one on him because he thought it suited him best. It was so him.

His mom didn’t say anything as she passed him a cup of tea.
She just sat with him.
No questions. No “are you okay?”
Because she already knew the answer.

Chapter Text

Karl read the letter five times before he folded it.
Twice more before he put it away.
Once again the next morning, as if it might read differently with daylight or he’d find a hidden message.

He didn’t cry. He didn’t text. He didn’t spiral the way he might’ve just months ago. Instead, he sat on the floor of his bedroom with the paper pressed flat across his knees and thought: He gets it. He finally gets it.

Not in a triumphant way. Not like he’d won.
But in the quiet, aching way that made him miss Nick more, not less.

Because that was the thing about understanding.
It didn’t make the missing any easier.
It just made it lonelier.

February passed quietly.

But not evenly.

Some mornings were easy. Some weren’t.
Some nights, the silence stretched too long and too loud, and he’d turn the letter over in his hands like maybe there was more hidden in the margins.

He stopped sleeping with his phone under his pillow.
Mostly.

He went to therapy. Not out of desperation anymore, but habit — stability.
They were working on things like food and control now, not just Nick.

Some days they didn’t mention him at all.
Some days Karl brought him up three times in ten minutes.

He didn’t say it out loud, but he was actually enjoying therapy now.
Not in the way people usually meant. Not like it was fun.
But like it was real. Like he’d gained control again in a different way.
A healthy way.

One afternoon, he skipped lunch. He told himself it was because he was busy, or tired, or just not hungry.
And maybe it was all of those. Maybe it wasn’t.

The next day, Alex showed up with dinner and sat on the curb outside the gym.
Didn’t ask. Just passed the bag over.
They ate in comfortable silence. That night, Karl wrote in his journal:
One step back. Two forward. Still counts.

Alex was around more.
Things felt easier now. Lighter.
Some nights they sat on Karl’s floor and talked about nothing until it turned into something.

A few almosts still lingered between them, moments where things might’ve shifted.
A glance held a little too long. A laugh that felt like it meant something else.
But they never moved. Not quite.

Once, Alex said, “If you’ve changed your mind that’s okay.”

And Karl had just looked at him — soft, sure, and said, “I don't know what I want.”That was the closest they got to talking about it.

School got easier.

He’d fallen back into old rhythms, but the good kind. The kind with structure.
His grades were improving. He was less disruptive.
Only two detentions so far, which was a new record.

He never texted Nick.
Wrote drafts. Never sent them.
Didn’t delete his contact. Just in case.

—

Nick had his routines too.

Mornings were for schoolwork.
Afternoons for walking barefoot along the sand with his sketchbook, earbuds in, hoodie zipped halfway up even when it was warm.

The same hoodie he’d tried not to pack — but somehow ended up folded neatly at the front of his suitcase.

The sea was quieter than he expected.
It didn’t crash like in movies. No thunder. No storms.
Just a steady, shushing pull.
Like it was breathing in and out — asking him to do the same.

His dad tried. Earnestly. Clumsily.

They fished once a week. Talked about books neither of them were reading.
Played cards at night, where Nick always lost but didn’t mind.

Some days were awkward, full of half-said things and unsure silences.
But some days felt almost normal. Nick caught himself smiling at breakfast one morning and couldn't remember the last time it felt that genuine.

They didn’t talk much about the past. Or his mom. Or Karl.
But every now and then, Nick would slip up and say we instead of I, and his dad would glance up, just briefly, and nod like he understood more than he let on.

Therapy came through Zoom now. A different rhythm, but still Melissa.

“Have you reached out to him?” Melissa asked one afternoon.

Nick shook his head. “No.”

A beat.

“But?” she prompted gently.

Nick exhaled. Picked at the hem of his hoodie sleeve. “I think about him every day.”

She tilted her head. “That doesn’t always mean you’re ready.”

“I know,” he said.
“But it’s not the missing that hurts anymore. It’s not knowing if he’s okay.”

March came in slowly.

Karl got a haircut.

Nick started sketching again.
People this time. Shoulders. Collarbones. Curly hair he didn’t name out loud.

They both drafted texts they never sent.

Karl’s read: Do you want to talk?

Nick’s read: I think I’m ready. Are you?

Neither pressed send.

One evening, Nick was sitting on the porch in the fading light, phone in one hand, hoodie sleeves pushed halfway up his arms. His dad stepped outside with two mugs of tea, passed one over, and sat beside him.

“Your mom said you liked this kind. You excited to go home for spring break?” he asked, casual. Handing him a mug.

Nick sipped. “Yeah. I think so.”

“You miss it?”

He nodded once.

His dad looked over. “Do you miss him?”

Nick didn’t answer right away. “Yeah.”

His dad nodded. “You going to see him?”

“I don’t know,” Nick said. “I guess… I’ll leave it up to the universe.”

His dad huffed a laugh. “That’s some hippie shit.”

Nick smiled into his mug. “It’s what he always said.”

His dad nudged his arm lightly. “Thank you for coming with me.”

“Thank you for inviting me. I’ve had a great time.”

“Maybe you can come more often. Not just for… this recovery stuff.”

“Maybe,” Nick said, and smiled again.
But it was smaller this time. Softer.

—

Back at home, Karl sat on his bedroom floor. He’d pulled the letter out again. Just to read. Just to remember.

His mom knocked gently, then poked her head in. “You okay?”

He shrugged, eyes still on the page. “Yeah.”

She came in, sat beside him.

“You thinking about spring break?”

He nodded.

“You think he’ll come back?”

“I don’t know,” Karl said quietly. “I kind of hope he does. But only if it’s what he wants kinda thing. I’m trying not to think about it too much.”

She smiled softly, nudging his shoulder with hers. “You’re doing good, you know.”

He looked up, startled. “Am I?”

“Yeah,” she said. “You are.”

He didn’t say it, but the praise made something behind his ribs sting in a way that felt both painful and warm.

He wasn’t sure if he was ready. But he was getting there.

They didn’t know it yet,
but they were only a week away from the same city.
Only a few heartbeats from something like closure. Or maybe something else entirely

Chapter Text

The therapy room hadn’t changed in months. The decor was still a solid 6/10 on a generous day.
Same water-stained ceiling tile. The same thin carpet that smelled faintly of old air and coffee.
Same grey-blue chairs with that weird static cling made his hoodie sleeves ride up whenever he leaned back—like even the furniture didn’t want him getting too comfortable.

But Karl had changed. He knew that.
His therapist knew it too.

They’d been doing this for a while now—long enough that he didn’t flinch when she said body image, control, or Nick.
They’d built a rhythm. A quiet trust.

But today, he couldn’t settle. His leg wouldn’t stop bouncing. His hoodie felt tight. His skin was loud—like it didn’t fit right, like it was humming at a pitch no one else could hear.
His thoughts were louder.

She noticed, of course, she did, but she didn’t say anything at first. Just waited.
That was always what Karl preferred: to make the first move. It made him feel like something might be okay about him.
That he didn’t have to talk fast or lie or explain everything all at once.
He could take his time.

Still, today he filled the silence early.

“I’ve been doing better, right?” he asked.

She blinked once. “You tell me. People have different versions of what better looks like for them.”

Karl exhaled. “I mean… I think I have. My mom says I have. I guess.
I’ve been eating more. Not as much panic around it. Still… weird, but not like before.
I use the tools. The grounding stuff. The mirror thing.”

“Good.”

“Better.”

She tilted her head. “But?”

He hesitated. The truth rose like bile. Thick. Sharp. Unwelcome.
He swallowed hard, but it didn’t go down.

“But I feel awful,” he said.

She nodded, slowly. “Physically? Emotionally?”

“Both.” He looked down at his stomach, tugged at the hem of his hoodie like maybe it would fit better if he just didn’t look.
“It’s like my body’s getting louder. And I don’t know if it’s lying or if I am.”

“And emotionally?”

He let the silence settle. Stared at a crack in the ceiling tile like it might split open and swallow him whole.

“I feel guilty,” he said.

She didn’t flinch. Didn’t push. Just gave him a small, patient nod.

Karl swallowed. “Ever since he left, I’ve felt—” He stopped. Shame burned under his tongue.

“Relieved,” he said finally.
It came out like a confession. And maybe it was. She didn’t react, not really. Just folded her hands in her lap and asked softly, “Can you say more about that?”

“I hated the quiet at first,” he admitted.
“I kept waiting for a knock on the window. A text. Something. But nothing came.
And then one morning I woke up and didn’t feel sick. I ate something without crying after. I took a walk. I laughed at something Alex said. I looked at myself and didn’t hate every part of me.
And I felt—”
He cut himself off. Frustrated. Confused.

“I felt free. And then guilty. Because I care about him. I do. But—”

“But you were drowning together,” she finished gently.

Karl’s eyes burned. “Yeah.”

She leaned forward slightly, voice soft.
“You didn’t do anything wrong, Karl.
Setting boundaries—even emotional ones—doesn’t make you selfish.
It makes you safe.”

He scoffed, bitter. “Try telling that to my chest at 3 a.m.”

“Are you having panic attacks again?”

He shook his head. “Not exactly.
Just… thoughts. Maybe I used him. Or pushed him away. Or both.”

She nodded, letting it settle.

He went on. “We were trauma-bonded, right? Isn’t that what you called it?”
He hated the term, how clinical it sounded. Like their worst moments were the only things that counted.

“It can happen,” she said. “When two people connect through pain instead of healing.
When the relationship becomes a survival tactic more than a choice.”

“I don’t think it started like that.”

“I don’t think so either.”

Karl picked at the seam of his hoodie. “But that’s what it became.”

She was quiet for a moment. Then asked, “What’s brought this on?”

He looked up, surprised. “I think his trip might be coming to an end. It’s bringing up a lot of old stuff. I’m just scared if things go bad again.”

“I get that. Is there a part of you that thinks that won’t happen?”

Karl smiled faintly. “I think so. I’m a little excited. I don't know how he feels about it, and I think that’s why I’m spiralling a little.”

“All of the what-ifs?”

He nodded. Then, almost in a whisper: “I don’t hate him. I need you to know that.”

“I believe you.”

“I miss him.”

She didn’t say anything.

Karl’s voice dropped. “But I also love waking up and not feeling like I have to be everything to someone else. I love that I’m not in constant crisis mode. I’m finally making progress and—God, this sounds awful—I’m glad he’s been away. What if that feeling stays when I see him?”

He felt like he was repeating everything, but it needed somewhere to go.

“That doesn’t sound awful,” she said gently. “That sounds honest. And honesty is good.
Maybe you can’t assume until you see him.
But that excitement you feel can’t be for nothing, right?”

He looked down at his arms.
At the fullness coming back.
The softness he was learning slowly not to fight.

“Do you think I’ll always feel like this?” he asked. “Torn between who I was with him and who I’m trying to be without him?”

“I think you’re learning how to hold both.”

He sat with that.

She smiled softly. “Because he mattered. And because you still care.”

“Yeah.”

A pause.

“I don’t know if I want to see him again,” Karl admitted. “I know I keep saying it but it’s all I think about.”

“Would you want to hear from him? I know it’s a little different than seeing him—but whatever that response is will tell you a little more.”

Karl looked up. Thought about the letter. The hoodie. The ache under his ribs that refused to go away.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I think I would.”

She offered a soft smile. “Would you like to touch on how you're coping with food at the moment?”

Karl put his hands over his ears jokingly. “Nope.”

She laughed. “Not even a bit?”

Karl sighed, smiling despite himself.
“Can I talk about Nick for five more minutes?”

“Of course,” she said. “It sounds like he’s still in there somewhere.”

Karl nodded. “Yeah. He always is.”

Chapter Text

Nick stood at the window of his room, looking out to the neighbourhood that weirdly looked more and more like home the longer he stared. He felt content, like this was exactly the place he needed to be. As he went to open it to let in some air he realised it was still locked. Still sealed shut since January, when the keys were hidden.

He laughed. Quietly. Not bitter, not angry, not anymore.

Just reminiscing.

Then he sat on the edge of the bed and breathed. Slow and careful, like his lungs needed a minute to remember how. The sun had dipped below the trees outside, leaving the room washed in indigo and shadows, soft and unmoving.

His dad was downstairs, half-watching the news with the sound off. His mom was in the kitchen with a glass of wine, humming something under her breath. The dishwasher clicked and hummed and the hallway light buzzed, like it always did.

Everything felt a little brighter. Or maybe just clearer. Like someone had wiped condensation from a window and finally let the light back in. They’d been home three days. It was working — surprisingly.

Meals together. Shared glances. The occasional joke. A rhythm they hadn’t had in years. Nick was still cautious, still walking through the house like one wrong word might crack the floorboards open, but so far… it hadn’t.

He reached over to the window again, gave it one last jiggle, and grinned at the unmoving latch.

Later that evening, his phone buzzed on the nightstand. A message from George lit up the screen.

George:
Yo. Heard you're back.
Everyone’s still alive somehow.
Let me know when you wanna catch up?

Nick stared at the message for a second, then smiled and tapped a heart emoji.

He didn’t feel ready to be everyone’s friend again. Not yet. But there was no panic in him now, no urgency. No endless loop of guilt running through his veins. Just quiet.

He was okay just being here for a while. Existing and adjusting.

—

The next day, the sky was low and overcast, the kind of grey that made the air feel heavier than it was. Familiar buildings blurred past: charity shops, restaurants, the pharmacy with its flickering green cross.

Then something stopped him.

A tiny café, tucked between a secondhand bookshop and a florist, with crooked shutters and steam fogging the windows. A handwritten sign had been taped inside the glass:

HELP WANTED — Start ASAP — No Experience Necessary

He stared for a second. Not thinking. Not overthinking. Just… curious.

He stepped inside.

The bell above the door let out a soft jingle. The place smelled like burnt espresso, cinnamon, and warm milk. Behind the counter, a girl with half-dyed hair and chipped nail polish gave him a once-over, then grinned.

“Can I help?”

“I saw your help wanted sign?”

“Looking for someone chill who doesn’t spill hot milk on people,” she said.

Nick blinked, then laughed. “I can definitely try not to.”

She handed him an application and a pen with teeth marks on the end. “Write neat and don’t lie about your availability whatever you do. That’s the reason we have no staff” she added, already moving to clean a table.

He left fifteen minutes later with the form folded in his pocket and something unfamiliar stirring beneath his ribs, a flicker of excitement. The idea that maybe this could be something. A summer thing. A him thing. Something that wasn't completely centred around somebody else. No strings. No pressure. Just a job.

As he stepped back out into the street, the clouds were parting. A slant of sunlight fell across his face and he tilted his head back into it, eyes closed.

He didn’t see the person walking two shops behind him.

Karl didn’t even want coffee.

He’d gone out with no plan, just an ache in his chest and a need to feel the breeze on his face. His hands were stuffed in the sleeves of a too-big hoodie, the sleeves stretched out from habit. He hadn’t eaten since yesterday. He didn’t want to think about that.

But the little café on the corner — the one he always meant to try but never did — caught his attention with its smell and its scuffed windows and the way it reminded him of something soft.

A sign in the window read:

HELP WANTED

He paused just long enough to consider it before moving on. The idea of a summer job was tempting, something to occupy his days. Something different from doing nothing and going to therapy.

The bell above the door chimed.

The girl behind the counter didn’t know him. Didn’t ask anything. She just glanced up, clocked the dark circles under his eyes and the tension in his shoulders, and gave him a smile that wasn’t intrusive.

“Flat white?” she guessed.

Karl blinked. “How did you—?”

“Lucky guess. Everyone orders flat whites when they don’t know what they want.”

He gave a faint smile. “Two sugars.”

The place was cramped but warm. There were old flyers peeling from the notice board near the loo, a single fairy light strand taped around the counter, and mismatched mugs drying beside the sink. It smelled like oat milk and cheap vanilla syrup and wasn't overly crowded. It was nice.

Karl sat near the window, stirring his coffee more than he drank it. Outside, the street moved in slow motion: couples walking dogs, someone with a violin case, the occasional kid on a scooter. It was all so normal. Unreasonably, heartbreakingly normal.

It made his chest hurt a little.

There were still bad days. Still moments in the mirror when his reflection felt like someone else’s problem. But the pain didn’t choke him the way it had. Not every day.

He took a sip. It burned his tongue.

The girl came out from behind the counter, wiping a table nearby. “You local?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Karl said.

“Me too! We never really see anybody out of town here” She grinned. “You want a loyalty card?”

“Nah,” he said, standing. “Thank you though”

“Cool. See you around.”

She returned to the counter as he moved to leave, then glanced at him again. “So,” she asked, tilting her head, “what are you doing with your summer?”

Karl shrugged. “Nothing, really.”

“Ambitious,” she said. “We’re hiring, if you’re bored.”

He followed her gaze to the sign in the window again.

“We need someone part-time,” she added, already reaching under the counter. “Chill hours. Decent tips. Free coffee.”

Karl raised a brow. “That’s the hook, isn’t it?”

She slid a form toward him. “Think about it.”

He hesitated for just a second, then took the form and folded it once, neat and quiet. “Maybe I will.”

Outside, the sky was clearing. The streets were still damp from an earlier shower, but the light was turning gold, edging toward summer.

Karl turned left.

Nick had turned right.

They passed like ghosts on parallel paths — hearts just barely steady, backs just barely straight — the same air in their lungs, the same ache in their chests.

They didn’t see each other.

Didn’t know that they were only minutes apart.

Chapter Text

Nick handed over the application with a little more care than he meant to, smoothing the paper against the counter like it mattered. Nothing he did would have made his handwriting nice but he didn't really care, the fact that he'd even filled it out and handed it in was a step in itself.

The girl from the day before was still there, balancing a tray of empty mugs and laughing at something someone had said across the room.

“You’re back,” she said, setting the tray down. “You want a gold star or just the job?”

Nick gave a one-shouldered shrug. “I can start whenever.”

“Don’t say that too loud,” she grinned. “You’ll end up pulling doubles.”

She took the paper from him before he could second-guess himself and glanced at it. “Honestly? I don’t know why we bother with applications. You’re starting as soon as the boss logs your details.”

Nick blinked. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.” She slid it under the register, on top of a slightly crumpled form already waiting.

His application seemed to be the only one on the counter. The thought of being the only new person was terrifying. 

He left the café with a strange little buzz under his skin. Not adrenaline. Not dread. Just happiness.

A summer job.

Something to do. Something that didn’t involve spirals or silence or rooms he didn’t know how to sit in anymore. Something that was his.

Back home, he kicked off his shoes, flopped onto his bed, and opened his phone.

The last messages he sent to Karl that weren't spiralling were from months ago. The majority of them were memes or single messages that were hearted, photos of homework, and the odd Spotify song.

But, scrolling further through their texts, Nick paused on the photos they’d sent each other over the months. A blurry selfie from Karl half asleep. A screenshot of a playlist. That one time Nick had ranted about yoghurt in voice notes.

He hadn’t let himself look back in a while. He wasn't sure why the urge had hit him but it did. So of course, that’s when it happened.

Buzz.

A new message from Karl lit up his screen.

Karl:
You too?

Nick was confused for a moment and then a photo of the cafe followed after. Nick didn’t even think, he just typed back.

Nick:
Yep! Dropped off my form like 20 minutes ago.

There was a beat. Then he realised how he’d opened the message immediately because he was already in the thread. And how he'd replied embarrassingly fast considering they hadn't spoken for months.

The gap waiting for Karl’s response seemed like years but realistically it was only a few seconds.

Karl:
That okay? If I work there too.

Nick read the message twice. His lips twitched. Before he could give it a second thought despite the internal panic warning him, he'd replied almost instantly again.

Nick:
Of course it is :)
I think it'd be cool actually

Karl had hearted the message. Nick hesitated, he didn’t want it to end there.

Nick:
How did you know I applied there?

Karl:
Your awful handwriting.

Nick:
It’s not that bad.

Karl:
It looks like hieroglyphics.

Nick:
Your mom looks like hieroglyphics.

Karl:
Wow. That’s low.

Nick snorted, phone resting on his chest now. The room felt warmer, somehow. Or maybe he just did, his heart was beating faster.

The conversation paused, the little typing dots vanishing and reappearing once before stopping altogether. He wanted to say more. Ask how Karl was, what his summer looked like. If he still couldn’t sleep with the window open. But he didn’t push it.

He knew not to.

There was a flicker of something. Excitement? Nerves? It curled in his chest like a secret. Whatever it was, it didn’t feel like panic. It didn’t feel like falling apart.

But as the night progressed it did. He couldn't sleep. Not in a bad way. Not with the usual edge of panic curled up next to him in the dark. Just… not sleeping.

Every time he closed his eyes, his brain decided to run a dress rehearsal of every possible way his shift could go. A slow montage of awkward silences and accidental eye contact and him knocking over an entire tray of drinks while Karl looked on in quiet horror.

Which was ridiculous. He was just going to work. At a café. With a boy he used to be really close to. Who’d kissed him once. Who then didn’t talk to him for a while. Who was now going to work with him.

Cool. Totally chill.

He pulled the duvet over his face.

It hit him, suddenly, stupidly hard—he was going to see Karl. In person. Not through a screen. Not through memory. There. In the same room. Breathing the same air. Maybe wearing that hoodie with the fraying cuffs. Maybe looking at him like nothing had changed. Or worse like everything had.

He’d have to figure out what to say, how to act. If he should smile. If he should mention anything, or pretend this was all totally casual.

Because… what were they now?

Were they friends again? Were they ignoring everything they hadn’t said? Were they going to be coworkers who occasionally sent memes and texted late at night when they couldn’t sleep?

Would Karl even want to talk? Would Karl act like everything is normal?

Nick sat up, legs crossed on top of the sheets, phone in his hand like it might offer him a script. Their last texts were still open.

your mom looks like hieroglyphics.
wow that’s low.

What did Nick even mean by that? Either way it was stupid. Stupid, easy and light.

But that didn’t mean it would be like when they started working. Not face to face. Not with history sitting between them like a third coworker nobody had scheduled.

Nick groaned and let himself fall backwards onto the bed. Maybe he was overthinking it. He did that. A lot.

Maybe Karl would just show up, nudge him with an elbow, ask where they kept the oat milk, and it would be fine.

Or maybe he’d avoid Nick’s eyes all shift and talk through the girl with the chipped nails like they hadn’t once slept in the same bed just for the comfort of not being alone.

Nick scrubbed a hand through his hair and stared up at the ceiling.

This should’ve been easy. This was supposed to be good. A job. A chance. Something stable. Something for him.

But now it was also… Karl.

And that made it so much harder to breathe. God, why did he immediately say it was okay without thinking about it?

He told himself he was ready.

But the truth was — he had no idea how to see Karl again and not feel everything they never got to say. And worse, everything they still might.

Chapter Text

The café looked smaller than he remembered. But maybe that’s because it felt like the walls were closing in. Not in a the world is ending kinda way, more of a I'm not ready for today and I’ve been thinking about it forever kinda way.

Nick stood just inside the door, arms folded, trying not to let it show—how weird this felt. How off-balance. How much he’d rehearsed being normal and still came up short. He’d practised looking normal in the mirror. At home. On the bus. Even outside the shop. But now that he was here, it all fell apart.

Mia glanced up from behind the counter, offering a breezy smile. “Hey, right on time. We’re not swamped, so you’ll learn as you go.”

Nick nodded, throat dry. He managed something close to a smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Then the back door swung open—and the world narrowed to a single point.

Karl stepped out carrying a crate of mugs, hair slightly longer, skin clearer, a flush of colour in his cheeks. There was something different—stronger, steadier—something Nick had never seen in him before. Health. Wholeness. A kind of quiet confidence that shimmered around him like warmth from a window in winter.

It was almost too much.

Nick couldn’t breathe for a second. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t move.

He looked like he belonged here. Like the kind of boy who glowed without meaning to.

“Grab an apron,” Mia said, nudging Nick lightly. “I’ll get Karl to show you the ropes.”

Karl looked up then—eyes catching Nick’s—and everything inside Nick tilted.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” Nick echoed, a second too late.

His voice cracked slightly. He hated that.

Karl’s eyes flickered with something—something soft, almost shy—but he didn’t make it a thing. Just stood up straighter, like this was normal. Like they were fine.

“Mia’s got orders,” he said, nodding toward the espresso machine. “I can show you the ropes?”

Nick hesitated. Every part of him wanted to say I’m fine, to figure it out himself, to pretend this wasn’t an emotional minefield in a branded apron.

But he gave a short nod instead. “Sure.”

Karl walked him through the basics. Calm, steady, quietly confident in a way Nick hadn’t expected. Like he knew exactly where the spare milk jugs were kept, how to foam oat milk without burning it, how long to steep the mint tea so it didn’t taste like toothpaste.

It threw Nick a little.

He couldn’t stop noticing how easily Karl fit here. Not just behind the counter, but in his own skin. There was less tension in his shoulders, less bite in his voice. He tugged at his sleeves, still shifted from foot to foot sometimes—but there was a steadiness too. Something new.

Nick hated that he noticed.

Worse—he hated that he liked it.

His own hands fumbled with the steamer wand. Too much pressure. A hiss, a spurt, and foam sprayed across the counter.

“Shit—”

The customer waiting at the till raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

Nick’s face burned. “Sorry. I’ve got it.”

“Want me to—?” Karl started.

“I’m fine,” Nick said, too fast.

But he wasn’t. The next attempt came out worse—half milk, half lava, all wrong.

Karl stepped in before Nick could stop him. He moved like it was no big deal, like this was muscle memory now. Took the jug, poured out the disaster, refilled it without saying a word.

“This one’s weird,” he said quietly, adjusting the dial. “You have to angle it, like this.”

He held the jug under the wand, steam whispering up between them. The machine hummed softly. His voice barely rose above it.

“You’ll get it. Took me three tries too.”

Nick watched the foam swirl. Watched Karl's hands work—deft, certain, steady.

“Thanks,” he muttered, finally.

Karl looked up.

And for a moment—just a moment—they held each other’s gaze. For Nick that was enough for him to visualise himself melting into the floor. He couldn't gauge what Karl’s eyes were saying. Not awkward. Not charged. Just… uncertain.

Then it passed.

Karl poured the milk into the cup and slid it across the counter. “Flat white. Two sugars,” he called.

Nick turned back to clean the wand, heart thudding too loudly in his chest.

It was just coffee. Just a shift. Just Karl being helpful. So why was it almost impossible to function?

The rest of the shift passed in pieces.

Nick was trying—really trying—to focus on learning the till codes, remembering how to pour without spilling, tracking who wanted oat milk and who absolutely did not.

But his brain had other plans.

Because Karl was always right there.

Not in an annoying way. He wasn’t hovering. He wasn’t even talking much. He was just… present. In the corner of Nick’s eye. Close enough that their arms brushed once when they both reached for the same cloth. Close enough that Nick caught the faint scent of his shampoo. Something clean, citrusy, vaguely familiar.

It kept happening. Small collisions. A bump of shoulders as they crossed behind the counter. Their hands brushed when they passed a mug.

Each time, Nick jolted a little like he’d touched a live wire. Karl didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he did, and just didn’t say anything.

Nick wanted to be chill. Wanted to be fine. But everything felt like it was happening too fast. The noise of the grinder. The clatter of dishes. The tiny bell that kept ringing above the door.

It was a lot.

“Hey,” said an older voice.

The owner, maybe. She was sorting paperwork near the register. “You doing okay? You’ve got that ‘I just stepped into a hurricane’ look.”

Nick forced a smile. “I’m alright.”

“You want five minutes? You can take five. First shifts are always a brain-melter.”

He hesitated but nodded. “Yeah. Thanks.”

He slipped into the little side room with the lockers and half-broken coat hooks. It was warm and quiet and smelled like dust and vanilla syrup. He leaned back against the wall and exhaled, dragging both hands through his hair.

He hated that he was overwhelmed. Hated how badly he wanted to impress someone, even if he didn’t know who.

Or—no. That wasn’t true.

He knew exactly who.

He kept replaying the way Karl had stepped in earlier. So smooth. So easy. Like he wasn’t nervous at all. Like this was just another day.

He’d grown. That was the truth of it.

And Nick… wasn’t sure if he had.

He heard footsteps before he saw anything. Didn’t move.

Then the door creaked open.

Karl stepped in, quiet as ever, holding out a to-go cup.

He didn’t say anything.

Just offered the drink with one hand, his fingers curled carefully around the lid.

Nick stared at it for a second before taking it.

The warmth seeped into his palm.

“Thanks,” he murmured, voice small.

Karl nodded, barely a shift of his shoulders. He lingered a second longer, like he might say something else.

But he didn’t.

He just gave the faintest smile then turned and walked out.

Nick stared at the door after he left. Then looked down at the cup in his hands.

No name written on it. No note.

Just coffee.

Just… Karl, quietly showing up.

And for some reason, that undid him more than anything else could have.

Chapter Text

The café had slipped into its late afternoon rhythm slow but steady, filled with the soft murmur of conversations and the oddly comforting hiss of milk steaming.

Nick worked silently beside Karl; the movements were easier now, almost second nature. But the silence wasn’t comfortable. It was the kind that pressed against your ears, heavy and strained, like both of them were holding their breath.

Karl’s hair was damp from the rain and had dried into soft, uneven curls, pushed out of his face by the sleeves of his uniform when he wiped down the bar.

Mia passed them with a stack of clean cups and smiled. “Karl, your hair’s, like, extra fluffy today.”

Karl laughed. It was small and polite-sounding sounding but Nick caught the faint shift in his expression. A flicker of something he didn’t show anyone else. Not quite discomfort. Not quite shame. Just a flinch. 

He ducked his head, tugging at the sleeves of his shirt—that old tell. Nick said nothing at first.

But the moment stuck with him. Sat between them like static.

A few minutes later, as they stood rinsing pitchers behind the counter, Karl focused on the stream of water like his life depended on it.

Nick cleared his throat. “You look good, by the way.” He meant it. Genuinely. Thought maybe it would undo that look from earlier, ease something invisible between them.

But Karl stilled.

Didn’t look at him.

“Thanks,” he said flatly. Not cold. Just… contained. His knuckles around the pitcher turned white.

Then, carefully, he set the jug down and turned away. “I’m gonna take five.”

He didn’t wait for Mia’s okay. Just disappeared into the back room.

The water kept running.

Nick stood there, hands wet, heart twisting with something he couldn’t name.

What had he done?

The words had come out too fast, maybe. Or too familiar. Too soon. Too something.

He played it back in his mind—you look good—and cringed. It wasn’t wrong. It wasn’t flirtatious. But maybe it had landed that way. Maybe it scratched at something that neither of them were ready to touch.

He felt like he was walking blindfolded through a room full of things that used to be theirs. Every step was clumsy. Every word was a risk.

They hadn’t texted since that first shift. Hadn’t seen each other outside these walls. There was no rhythm anymore, just fragments of what used to be. And now Nick wasn’t sure if he even knew how to be around Karl. How to not make it worse.

They were acting normal.

But maybe the pretending was worse than silence.

—

Karl’s POV

Karl sat on the edge of the bench, hoodie sleeves bunched in his fists, jaw clenched so tightly it ached.

He hadn’t meant to overreact. He wasn’t even sure why it hit wrong. But it had.

You look good.

A part of him wanted to accept it. Let it land like a gift. But it had sounded like something else. Like Nick had been watching him. Like all his effort, the food, the sleep, the therapy, the space, was being seen, and somehow that made him feel exposed.

Not complimented.

Exposed.

The door creaked.

Mia stepped in quietly. “Hey. Everything okay?”

Karl rubbed at his eyebrow. “Yeah. Just needed a breather.”

She gave him a look, not pushing. “You’ve got twenty minutes left. Want to finish out front, or…?”

He hesitated. Then: “Actually… I wanted to ask. Could I maybe be on a different shift to Nick? Not forever. Just… for a bit.”

Mia blinked. “I mean, it’s a little tricky with everybody’s schedules. But I’ll do my best.”

“I know it’s inevitable. That we’ll work together sometimes. And that’s fine. I just…” He exhaled. “If we can avoid it for now, I’d appreciate it.”

She nodded. “Okay. I get it.”

“Thanks.”

“You alright?” she added gently. “Not prying. Just—”

“I know. I’m good.” His voice was quiet. Honest. “We just… have a lot of history.”

Mia gave a small, understanding smile. “I get it.”

And somehow, she really did. “Look if you wanna leave now you can, it’s not busy.”

Karl was extremely grateful, it gave him enough time to get to his therapy session. The room smelled faintly of peppermint tea and carpet cleaner. Karl sat cross-legged on the couch, sleeves over his hands, staring at a smudge on the wall. They talked about how his new job was going, how his weeks been, how he’s feeling mentally. He didn't want to bring him up.

“Is something else on your mind? You seem somewhere else today.” She smiled.

“Nick works at the cafe. With me”

Her eyebrows raised slightly, like she wasn't expecting it.

“I asked to be scheduled on different shifts,” he said.

His therapist nodded. “Okay. How is that going?”

“Well I asked him if I could work there too and he said yes and I thought it would be okay but it’s not”

“You’re back in touch?”

“No. Not exactly. I just text him, we haven't text since”

“How is it being around him again?”

Karl explains everything from the moment they saw each other. “I asked my boss if I could work seperately from him.”

“How did that feel?”

“I felt proud for a second. Like that was boundary-setting. Like I was protecting myself which I obviously never did before.”

“And now?”

“Now I feel like I overreacted. Again.” He dragged a hand through his hair. “He just said I looked good. That’s all. And I left.”

His therapist didn’t rush in. Just let the silence settle, then: “What did that comment mean to you?”

Karl shrugged. “I don’t know. It felt… complicated.”

“In what way?”

“Like he saw something I wasn’t ready for him to see. Or maybe it just sounded too familiar. Like he was reaching for something we don’t have anymore.”

“Do you think he meant it that way?”

Karl bit the inside of his cheek. “No. I think… maybe I read into it.”

“That’s something I’ve heard you say before.”

He gave a dry laugh. “Yeah.”

“Can I offer something?”

He nodded.

“I think with you two, you try to read each other too much.”

Karl cracked a smile. “And we’re both dyslexic. It’s a terrible system.”

That earned a small laugh from her too.

“Or,” she said gently, “maybe it’s because he matters so much. Everything is amplified. So even something simple can land like a loaded weapon.”

Karl looked down. The humour dropped from his face.

“Yeah,” he said. Quietly. “That feels true.”

She leaned forward just slightly. “What was it like seeing him again? Really?”

Karl hesitated.

“Like I missed something I didn’t know I missed until it was right in front of me.”

“And?”

“And I’m scared that even after everything… I still want something from him I don’t know how to ask for.”

She nodded slowly. “That sounds really human.”

Karl let himself breathe.

Something in his chest loosened.

“How long until it all makes sense again?”

His therapist gave a small, knowing smile. “That’s not something you can put a timeframe on.”

Karl nodded, quiet. He stared at the floor, thumb brushing over the edge of his sleeve. But he didn’t stand up yet.

“Can I ask one more thing?” he said.

“Of course.”

“I’m hanging out with my friends on Thursday. Just a little thing.”

She waited.

He glanced up, uncertain. “They’re his friends too. Nick’s. I just… I don’t want him to feel left out. Just because we’re not really getting on right now.”

There was a pause, gentle.

“I think that’s a kind instinct,” she said. “But it doesn’t have to come directly from you. Why not ask one of them to invite him? That way the pressure isn’t on either of you.”

Karl nodded slowly. “Right. Yeah. That makes sense.”

“And you still create space for him,” she added. “But with a little protection for yourself, too.”

He let out a breath. Not quite relief. But something close.

“Thanks,” he murmured.

She smiled. “You’re welcome.”

Chapter Text

The clock on the wall ticked louder than it should, something he'd never noticed until now. Nick sat on the couch, oddly still despite his mind going a million miles per hour. Melissa sat across from him, calm and ready. 

“Rough week?” She smiled softly.

Nick shrugged. “Sort of.”

He didn’t elaborate right away, he felt like he needed to figure out where to start.

“I had plans on Thursday and I didn’t want to go because I knew Karl would be there.”

Melissa nodded slowly. “Did you go?”

“No.” Nick paused. “I regretted it afterwards but, I didn't go.”

“Was it solely because Karl was going to be there? Or were there other factors too?”

He rubbed the heel of his palm over his eye. “A bit of both… I don’t know. I feel like I’m back to thinking about him all the time. Not in, like, the stupid obsessive way like I used to, just… like he’s still in the middle of everything. And I don't want him to be. Not again”

“Because it feels like your life is revolving around him again?”

Nick nodded.

“I didn’t want to go out so I didn't. I dread going to work but I have to go so I do. I’m dreading school. I don’t want to do anything because I know he’ll be there. It’s like… I’m wanting to rearrange my life around him, and I hate that.”

Melissa considered him, not unkindly.
“Do you think he’s doing the same?”

Nick hesitated. “I don’t know. I think I’m scared of us getting too close again. I worry that I’ll make things worse just by being there. And that makes me feel responsible, which is the last thing I want.”

“Do you still feel like you're still carrying the weight of his feelings?”

Nick nodded again. “Not exactly. I don't know how he’s feeling. But I worry about how I might make him feel by saying something or just showing up. Like when I made that comment at the café and he pulled away.”

Melissa tilted her head. “What do you think the solution might be?”

He looked down. “Maybe I tried to be in his life again too quickly. Maybe I just… don’t be in it at all. That's why I’m avoiding him now.”

She was quiet for a moment. “You work together. You share a friend group. I think staying entirely out of each other's lives might not be realistic.”

“I know,” Nick said. “That’s the thing. He asked if he could work at the café and I said yes. So I made it worse.” He hadn't mentioned this to her yet, just played it off as a coincidence in the beginning.

Melissa raised an eyebrow, almost suspicious. “Why did you say yes?”

He exhaled. “Because I thought… I thought things would be different. But obviously not because I feel like I’m falling back into old patterns. I thought we could go back to normal.”

“What does normal mean to you?”

Nick frowned. “I don’t know. Not back to the way we were, not really. But… the good stuff. I wanted the good stuff again.”

“Of course you did.” She smiled warmly, twirling a pen with her fingers.

Nick watched her. She went quiet again. 

“But why did you feel like it had to be good again? Right away?”

He shrugged, but it was brittle. “Because it was bad last time. So it has to be good this time.”

She offered a small, sympathetic smile. “But it doesn’t.”

That made him pause. Like the ground shifted a little.

“Nothing says you have to fix everything immediately. Or even at all, if it’s not what you need right now.”

Nick blinked, absorbing every word.

“You’re still adjusting—to being back home, soon to school, to all the stuff that comes with it. Maybe Karl isn’t the thing you have to figure out right this second.”

Nick’s voice was smaller. “But it feels like he has to be. Like… I can’t not think about him and what we are. And that’s the problem.”

“It’s not a problem that you care. It’s just… maybe the pressure you’re putting on yourself to make sense of it all right now is what’s hurting you most.”

Nick let that sit for a moment. “So what are you saying?”

“I’m saying… maybe you don’t have to fix anything. Not yet. Not perfectly. Maybe just being around each other without needing to define what it means is enough for now.”

“I don't think I like the sound of that.” He mumbled.

Melissa smiled again. “When do you ever like the idea of anything I suggest?”

“Good point.” He smiled back, feeling like a weight had lifted off his chest. The idea seemed so obvious.

Melissa glanced at her notes. “How are you feeling about going back to school?”

Nick shrugged. “I dunno. I’m not excited, but I’m not, like… terrified of it either.”

“That’s great to hear. And what about your day-to-day stuff? How are things feeling, generally?”

Nick chewed at the inside of his cheek, then looked down at his hands. “It feels like… that feeling is always there. Like a shadow, I guess.”

Melissa nodded. “Can you tell me more about that?”

“You get used to it being there,” he said quietly. “You can’t outrun it. Some days it’s right behind you, and some days you don’t see it at all. But it’s always… somewhere.”

Her voice was soft. “Okay.”

Nick picked at the skin around his thumb. “I think the fear of slipping up is still there. The fear of letting everybody down. Or just… going backwards.”

“That makes sense,” she said gently. “Sometimes recovery isn’t a straight line. It’s not always steps forward. Sometimes it’s standing still, or circling around, or just learning how to carry it better.”

He nodded, not looking at her. The room fell into a quiet, almost-safe kind of silence. Then, almost out of nowhere, Nick spoke again.

“I wanted to take my hoodie off the other day,” he said, voice thin. “It was hot. Like, really hot. And I couldn’t. Because of my arms.”

He didn’t have to say more. Melissa waited.

“It made me feel gross,” he went on. “Not even because of how they look, but because I did that. Because I was that person who did something so permanent over something that… feels so stupid now.”

Her voice didn’t change, still calm, still careful. “It wasn’t stupid, Nick.”

“It feels like it was,” he muttered. “Like it wasn’t even about anything real. I just felt… heavy and tired and like everything was pointless for a minute. And now I have to live with that forever.”

Melissa leaned forward a little. “It was about something real. It was about pain. About hopelessness. About not having the words to explain what was going on inside. None of that is stupid. None of that is your fault.”

He swallowed hard.

“You’re allowed to be angry at what happened,” she added. “But I don’t want you to shame yourself for surviving something you didn’t know how to handle at the time.”

He didn’t answer right away. Just nodded slowly, eyes on the carpet. His throat felt tight.

“You’re not gross,” she said, more firmly this time. “You’re human. And healing takes time.”

Nick closed his eyes for a second. Breathed in, then out. It didn’t fix anything. But it helped for a moment.

Chapter Text

The school gates looked exactly the same.

Chipped paint. Rusted hinges. That one loose brick that always threatened to trip him if he wasn’t paying attention. Nick stood outside for a moment, breathing in the sharp morning air like it would do something to settle the buzzing in his chest.

It didn’t.

The building felt louder than he remembered. Or maybe he’d just forgotten how noisy it always was, slamming lockers, hallway echoes, laughter that felt too big for the walls it bounced off. Nick kept his head down as he moved through the corridor, weaving past conversations and avoiding eye contact like it was a reflex.

Someone called his name. A passing “Hey, Nick. Glad you’re back.”

That was weird. Being seen.

He gave a tight smile and a nod but didn’t stop. The meeting was in a side office off the main admin block.

Fluorescent lights that gave a low hum and a flicker every couple of minutes. A window that didn’t open all the way. Two plastic chairs and a desk that had seen better days. Miss Harper, the pastoral lead, was already there when he arrived, all warm smiles and soft eyes. Mr. Briggs from his form group joined a few minutes later, holding a half-empty coffee and a stack of papers he didn’t really look at.

“So,” Miss Harper said gently, “we’re just checking in today. No pressure, alright?”

Nick nodded.

“You’ve been back a little while now,” she continued. “How’re you feeling?”

He shrugged. “Okay.”

Mr. Briggs leaned forward. “Any classes you’re struggling to catch up with? We can look at some timetable adjustments if we need to. Or support sessions.”

Nick shook his head. “I’ll figure it out.”

He could feel their eyes on him. Careful. Measuring. Not unkind, but deliberate.

Miss Harper folded her hands. “And emotionally? It’s been a hard few months, Nick. Be honest with us, we’re here to help you.”

His throat tightened a little. “I’m… doing better than before.”

It was true. Kind of. Depending on the day.

“That’s good to hear,” she said. “We want to make sure you’re not overwhelmed. Coming back can stir things up, especially after time away.”

Nick nodded but didn’t respond. He wasn’t sure what to say. It was all awkward and forced. He wished they’d stop looking at him like he was a cracked mirror held together with tape.

“I don't know if you’ve discussed this yet but we’re offering a time-out pass” she continued. “Just something you show to your teachers if you feel overwhelmed and they’ll let you leave class”

Nick wasn't sure how that was supposed to help but at least they were trying.

“All of your teachers are up to date with everything, all of your work is done so far too, so we’ll just be checking in every couple of weeks. Okay? We’ll look at your progress, if there's anything you’re struggling with-”

Nick didn't mean to interrupt but he didn't want to hear anymore. “Okay, thank you.” 

“But if anything changes, if anything feels difficult—come to me. Please. That’s what we’re here for.”

“I know,” Nick said quietly.

The meeting ended five minutes later. Neither of them said anything wrong. But he walked out feeling worse than when he’d gone in.

It wasn’t their fault. It was the way they talked to him. Like he was still halfway broken. Like they were reading off a script, not an ounce of sincerity in their voices whatsoever. He looked at his laminated time-out pass. It had a smiley face sticker on it that was faded. Ironic.

—

He found the others in their usual spot near the back field at lunch. George was halfway through a story about someone getting stuck in a climbing wall harness during sports class. Ellie was rolling her eyes. Karl was sitting next to her, picking at the label on a drink bottle, his expression unreadable.

Nick hovered for a second before sliding into the grass beside them.

Ellie’s face lit up. “Hey! You survived the morning!”

“Barely,” Nick said, throwing his backpack behind him.

George pointed at him with a chip. “He lives. He breathes. He reenters society.”

“Miracles do happen,” Ellie added with a grin.

Nick smiled, even laughed a little. But it still felt slightly like he was borrowing someone else’s shoes—familiar but not quite a fit.

Karl didn’t say anything. Just offered him a brief glance, then looked away.

It shouldn’t have stung. But it did. But the conversation soon drowned those thoughts out.

“So I'm speaking to this guy and he's so hot. Like it physically pains me how hot he is.”

“Gross.” George chimed in, Ellie just rolled her eyes, kicking George with her foot.

“Ignore him. Stupid boy.”

Nick cracked a small smile as she continued.

”We’ve only been talking for two days but I feel like such a connection. We were meant to FaceTime last night but he broke his phone camera. How tragic is that?”

Nick furrowed his brows. “Show me a photo.”

She pulled up a photo of the strangest looking man he'd ever seen. Not in a bad way but he just didn't look real. A bit warped. “Yikes.”

She gasped, incredibly offended. “Shut up. We have different tastes!”

Nick's eyes instinctively went to Karl, who was looking right back at him. It only lasted a few seconds, but it was there.

“I don't think he's real” Nick almost sang that as he took a swig out of his water bottle, trying to stop himself from overthinking.

“That’s what I said!” George yelled, like he was relieved someone was finally seeing what he saw. “Broken camera the day before a call? All of his photos look weird-”

“You’re just jealous!”

“Of what? A non-existent man?”

Conversation continued and Nick slowly let himself fade out, still aware of everything. The sun was bright in a way that made Nick’s headache worse. Sweat prickled at the back of his neck under his hoodie. He looked at the grass, and then at Karl, and then the grass again.

“You alright?” George asked at one point, nudging him with his foot.

Nick blinked up. “Yeah. Just tired.”

Ellie flopped dramatically onto his shoulder. “Aren’t we all.”

Nick smiled faintly. “I’ve missed this.” He admitted, even though it didn't feel quite right just yet.

She grinned. “Of course you have.”

—

Later, in the bathroom mirror, he stared at his reflection.

His hoodie sleeves were damp where he’d washed his hands. He tugged them back down anyway. He had wanted to take it off earlier. Just for five minutes. It had been too warm out in the field and his skin felt sticky and uncomfortable and wrong.

But he couldn’t.

Not because someone would have said anything. But because he would have known. He would’ve seen. The scars weren’t fresh, but they were visible. And they whispered things when no one else was looking.

He hated that he’d done that. That he’d ever gotten to a place where hurting himself had felt like relief.

He hated that it still followed him around like a second skin, even when he hadn't thought about it in months.

—

The day ended.

He made it through every class.

Answered two questions.

Laughed at one joke George made that involved a literal plastic chicken.

Said nothing to Karl. And somehow, that felt like both a success and a failure. That night, he sat on his bed with his journal open.

The page stayed blank for the rest of the night.

—

Karl's POV

Karl didn’t mean to look.

Not really. Not in that obvious, hovering on the edge of a conversation he’s not part of kind of way. But he couldn’t help it either.

Nick was back. Like really.

Sitting in the grass like nothing had happened, laughing at George’s awful story about someone being pantsed during rock climbing. Karl had caught the sound of it—Nick’s laugh. Quiet. Small. Real.

It stuck to him longer than it should have. He didn’t know what to do with that.

Since the café, they hadn’t really said more than a handful of words to each other. And even those had come out awkward and stilted. More like placeholders for what they weren’t saying.

Karl knew he’d screwed up. Avoiding him after he was just trying to be nice. He’d seen it. That shift in posture. That look in his eyes like someone had just knocked the air out of him.

And now they were… what?

Friends?

Strangers?

People who existed in the same space, orbiting each other but never quite colliding?

He didn’t know.

At lunch, Karl sat a little further from the group than usual. Ellie kept pulling Nick into the conversation like it was her mission to keep him engaged. George was being loud enough to fill any silence, which helped. Alex wasn’t even there and Karl knew why.

He kept glancing at Nick anyway. Couldn’t stop. He looked tired. Not just sleepy tired, but bone-deep tired. The kind that sits behind your eyes and doesn’t go away after one good night of sleep.

His hoodie sleeves were pushed halfway up his hands again. Same as always. 

Karl wanted to say something.

Just an are you okay?
Or a you don’t have to talk, but I’m here.

But how could he, without pulling a thread that might unravel everything? Because the truth was, Nick looked like he was barely holding it together. And Karl didn’t trust himself not to make that worse.

They were in the same friend group. Same school. Same job. Same orbit. But somehow, it felt like they were a thousand miles apart. And he couldn’t figure out how to cross the distance without wrecking whatever fragile thread still connected them.

Chapter Text

The bell above the café door had rung seventeen times already and it wasn’t even 4 p.m.

Karl had the espresso machine running on autopilot, muscle memory pulling shots, steaming milk, and trying not to burn himself on the stupid metal wand that hissed at him every time he blinked too slow. Nick was wiping down counters and running orders out, his name being called more often than usual. Karl kept catching glances, almost without meaning to.

Nick looked… fine. In that specific, practiced way.

He moved like someone who knew the steps but wasn’t hearing the music. Smiling in the right places. Nodding along. Answering questions. But his shoulders were still tight. His voice was quieter than usual. Something was still off.

Not in the way it had been before, when things were falling apart, Karl knew those signs now. Knew what retreat looked like in someone else, not just himself.

And it had been like this since school started.

He wanted to say something.

He’d been thinking about saying something since the shift started, actually. But every time he opened his mouth, he backed out. Too risky. Too much history. Too easy to make it worse.

Nick deserved someone who knew how to say the right thing. Karl wasn’t sure he did.

The rush hit at quarter to five. A big group came in all at once — college students or maybe sixth formers from the other school. Loud, impatient, shoving each other in line. It didn’t help that two orders were already backed up and the milk frother decided it was a good time to start wheezing like it had asthma.

“Need the blender,” Karl called, reaching under the counter.

Nick ducked down to grab the base, and their hands nearly collided.

Karl flinched.

Nick gave a half-smile. “It’s okay. I don’t bite.”

It wasn’t a big thing. It was barely anything. But it was something.

A flicker of who they used to be. Or who they could still be, maybe.

Karl just nodded. “Thanks.”

He turned back to the machine, but the words stuck with him.

It’s okay. I don’t bite.

It sounded like permission. Or just a nudge to say that things were okay? Whatever it was Karl took it as an invitation.

It sat with him through the rest of the rush, through two spilled drinks and one customer who asked for “an extra hot iced latte” and looked offended when Karl asked her to pick a temperature.

They closed at six.

The café emptied fast, chairs scraping across tile as people left. Karl wiped down tables while Nick cleaned the glass front of the pastry case, his reflection flickering in the soft evening light. It was quiet now. The kind of quiet that didn’t push you to speak but didn’t stop you either.

Karl dried his hands on a tea towel. Then just stood there for a second, internally preparing himself.

“Hey,” he said.

Nick looked up.

Karl hesitated for a moment but it was too late now. “You seem different.”

Nick didn’t reply right away. His face didn’t change much. But his shoulders tensed just slightly.

“Since school started again, I mean,” Karl added quickly. “Not in a bad way. Just… I noticed. Are you okay?”

Nick leaned against the counter, arms folded, head tilted like he was preparing himself for something.

“I’m alright,” he said.

It wasn’t quite a lie. But it wasn’t the truth either.

Karl nodded slowly. “Okay.” No pushing or prying. A pause sat between them. Long enough that Karl almost walked away.

Then Nick spoke again, quieter. “I think I just got used to the break. Being away from everyone. And now it’s like… back to pretending again.”

Karl’s chest tightened. “You don’t have to pretend around me.”

Nick didn’t look at him. Just shrugged one shoulder. “Sometimes I do.”

They stood there in the soft hum of the café machines, the lights overhead buzzing faintly like background static.

Karl didn’t push.

He just leaned on the counter beside him, close but not touching.

“Thanks for asking,” Nick said eventually. Barely audible.

Karl nodded. “Thanks for telling.”

Things fell quiet again, Karl tried to just bask in the moment. They'd jumped over a huge hurdle. But he couldn't help himself.

“For the record, I also think Ellie’s mystery man is definitely not real.”

“I know right? How can she not see that?” Nick's enthusiasm was unmatched, Karl tried not to smile too hard.

“He lives 10 minutes away apparently. She wanted to meet up tonight but now he's suddenly in America.” 

“And she believes him?” Nick sounded disappointed.

“Of course she does, it’s Ellie.”

They shared a small smile before they carried on closing. They didn’t fix anything. Nothing was resolved.

But for the first time in weeks, Karl didn’t feel like he was walking around someone he used to know.

He felt like he was still allowed to care.

As Nick flipped the closed sign and reached for his bag, Karl found himself watching again—not in the obsessive, desperate way he used to, but just quietly. Like he was letting himself take in the fact that Nick was still here. Still reachable. Still willing, at least today, to speak back.

Chapter Text

By third period, Karl had already texted the group chat a panicked message:

Karl:
does anyone have the maths homework
please god help me

George followed up with:

George:
is it even real
i thought that was due next week????

Which quickly turned into:

George:
we are so screwed

Nick read the whole thing on his way to form and rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help smiling a little. It was loud, dramatic, and unnecessary. Textbook them.

But it also felt good to be included. That was new. Or maybe not new. Maybe just… returning.

—

At lunch, the group had taken over a patch of grass behind the science block, books scattered across their laps, bags doubling as desks. George was muttering formulas under his breath like a man on the edge. Karl looked like he was trying to astral project himself out of question seven.

Ellie, meanwhile, had thrown herself flat on her back in the sun, one arm flung over her face like a Victorian widow.

“I hate my life,” she groaned.

“No one is ghosting you,” Alex said, not looking up from his phone.

“Yes, he is! It’s been twenty-four hours. I know I sound unhinged, but I have receipts—”

“Ghosting doesn’t count if you only talked for three days,” George muttered, without looking up.

“He had cheekbones! Like, Greek god-level cheekbones.”

Nick huffed a laugh. “Yes. Fake cheekbones.”

Ellie gasped. “I’m wounded.”

Nick shrugged, stealing a piece of popcorn from her open bag. She let him.

Karl looked up from his workbook, squinting. “What are we even talking about now?”

“Ellie’s heartbreak,” Alex said plainly.

“Ah. Tragic.”

Nick smirked. “Stop trying to get out of the homework.”

“I’m not! I’m genuinely invested in the downfall of her love life… Unless?” Karl trailed and looked at Nick with hopeful eyes.

“Absolutely not.” Nick warned, mock-serious, “I’m not letting you copy mine.”

Karl grinned. Small, but real. “Fine.”

And it was the first time in weeks that joking with him didn’t feel like walking into a trap.

Nick leaned back on his hands, letting the noise of everyone talking wash over him. Ellie had started ranting again. George was writing a full sentence for what was clearly a multiple-choice question. Alex had turned his camera on and was scrolling through Instagram like he didn’t care who noticed.

No one was focused. Not really.

But that was okay.

They weren’t all fitting in — not exactly. But they were existing. Together. Comfortably chaotic. It was okay for him to do that too.

For the first time in a long time, Nick realised he didn’t feel like he was trying so hard to pass as someone else. He could just… be. Not everything had to be fixed immediately.

And that felt like something worth holding onto.

The rest of the day wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t unbearable either. The routine was settling in again. same halls, same classrooms, same walks between buildings. His hoodie didn’t feel as heavy. His chest didn’t feel quite so tight.

Something about that made him feel like maybe things were working, even if they weren’t fixed.

—

By the time Karl got home, the sun had already dipped behind the houses across the street, casting long shadows through the blinds.

He dropped his bag by the stairs, kicked his shoes off without untying them, and wandered into the kitchen mostly out of habit. He opened the fridge, closed it again. Nothing inside had changed since this morning, leftover pasta, half a lemon, a suspicious-looking jar of pickles no one remembered buying.

His phone buzzed.

He expected the group chat, and he wasn’t wrong.

George:
i’m starting a petition to cancel maths as a concept
who’s in

Ellie:
agree. also it’s math
also update: mystery guy posted a gym selfie with an american flag
thoughts???

Alex:
i’m scared

Karl:
we were right
he’s not real

Nick:
told you
catfish confirmed
his name is probably steve or some shit

Karl grinned, thumb hovering as he tried to think of something funny to send back. 

Before he could decide, Nick had already text again:

Nick:
was good today
being around everyone

The words landed like a soft nudge — not loud, not pointed. Just real.

Karl stared at the message for a moment, something warm and strange sitting behind his ribs.

He typed back:

Karl:
yeah
i’m glad you came

A pause. Then:

Nick:
me too

That was it. That was plenty.

Karl set his phone down and leaned against the counter, staring at the darkened window. He didn’t know what to make of the feeling. It wasn’t relief, exactly. But it wasn’t dread either.

Maybe this was what it felt like when something started to shift.

Later, after a picked at dinner and a half-hearted attempt at homework, Karl picked up his phone again.

This time, he opened a different chat.

Karl:
hey
you good?

It took a full minute to get a response.

Alex:
yeah
just tired
long day

Karl hesitated. Then typed:

Karl:
haven’t talked much lately
just checking in

Another pause. A bit longer this time.

Alex:
i know
i’m still here tho
just trying to give you space
that’s what you wanted right?

Karl stared at the message. He could’ve said yeah. He could’ve said thanks.

But instead, for a few seconds, he typed out something longer. Something about missing how things used to be. How weird it still felt. How space hadn’t really fixed anything, not the way he thought it might.

Then he deleted it.

karl:
yeah
thanks

Alex didn’t reply after that.

Karl tried not to sit with it too long.

He scrolled back into the group chat, snapping a photo of George’s tragically wrong answer sheet.

Karl:
man really answered “help me” for question 4

The typing bubble popped up instantly.

George:
it was a cry for help and no one came

Ellie:
i’m framing this

Karl smiled. It wasn’t everything. But it was something.

Things weren’t fixed.

But maybe — slowly — they were falling back into place.

Chapter Text

The café had closed twenty minutes ago, but Karl could still smell the milk foam and burnt espresso in his clothes. His shirt stuck to his back under his hoodie, and his fingers ached from cleaning the stupid grinder that always jammed halfway through a rush.

He dropped his keys on the kitchen counter as he walked in. His mom’s voice floated in from the living room, light and familiar.

“…And I told her to keep her nose out of my business!”

Nick’s mom was there too — he heard her laugh before he saw either of them.

Karl hovered in the hallway, caught somewhere between the kitchen tiles and the carpeted stairs. He didn’t know if he was supposed to slip past or announce himself like a functional person. But before he could decide, he was already spotted.

“Hey, love. How was your shift?”

Karl shrugged. “Fine. I don't wanna hear anything coffee related for at least a day.”

“Sounds about right. Good day?”

Karl just shrugged again. “Yeah. Not bad.”

Nick’s mom turned with a warm smile. “Nick’s babysitting tonight.”

Karl nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. “Cool.”

“I don’t think he’d mind the company,” she added, like it was casual. No pressure. Just an offer.

Karl gave a tight smile, unsure how to respond. It felt like they were given permission which was also weird. He didn’t commit to anything.

Upstairs, he showered and changed into a fresh hoodie and sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the floor. Everything about his clothes felt wrong. Too tight. Too loose. Too visible.

He thought about changing. Then didn’t. Thought about going back downstairs. Then didn’t.

It had been one of those days. Nothing sharp or dramatic, just that slow, grinding heaviness that turned everything inside-out. But it felt like there was no reason to feel that way, everything was going fine. His therapist's voice echoed in his mind.

Sometimes you're just sad. And that’s absolutely fine. There doesn't always need to be a reason.

His dinner sat untouched on his desk, covered with clingfilm. The smell of it made him nauseous. It felt like something else he was supposed to want, supposed to do, but couldn’t. Not today.

He didn’t want to be alone. He didn’t really want to be around anyone either.

But then he thought of Nick, quiet lately, but not distant. Not anymore. And for some reason, that made it easier to move. He grabbed his phone, pulled his sleeves down over his hands, and went. Even though he didn't agree to it initially, part of him must have wanted to go because he got changed into clothes and not pyjamas. He sent a quick text.

Help is on the way!

Toby answered before Karl even knocked, juice box in one hand, a sock sliding off his foot like it had given up.

“KARL!”

“Hey, dude,” Karl said, crouching down to fist-bump him. “You terrorising your brother yet?” It warmed him inside to see how excited Toby was to see him, even though they hadn’t really bonded. But then again Karl was always around to see Nick, this time he wasn't. Maybe he was a bit.

Nick appeared behind Toby, hair and hoodie both rumpled. “He’s working on it. I have a 10-year-old who acts like a 6-year-old.”

“My iPad’s dead that’s why.” Toby chimed in.

Karl smiled, just a little. “I heard you were stuck with him tonight.”

“Babysitting. Very serious business.”

“You’re in charge then?”

“Unfortunately.”

Toby was already tugging Karl inside. “We’re playing hide and seek. You’re on my team!”

Karl let himself be dragged without protest. Nick did a quick whisper as he passed him.

“Why do iPads charge so slowly?”

The hallway light was warm. The noise was easy.

The next twenty minutes were a blur of squeals, running feet, whispered counting, and wild laughter. Karl was running out of spaces to hide in. Toby tore through the flat like a sugar-powered rocket. Nick mostly observed from the sidelines, content to let Karl take the chaos off his hands.

“Found you! You’re rubbish at this.” Toby said, looking at Karl who had squashed himself onto the windowsill to hide behind the curtains.

Karl slid off it dramatically. “You got me! Wanna play something else?”

“I could see if my iPad’s charged!”

Karl didn't want to seem too relieved at that statement but he'd never been so sweaty and out of breath just from hide and seek. “Yeah let's do that. Where is it?”

Eventually, they ended up in Nick’s room where the iPad was charging on his bedside table.

“I’m not allowed it in my room.”

“Why?” Karl asked, looking at Nick who was sitting on the bed scrolling on his phone.

“Because I stay up late playing Minecraft and Roblox,” Toby said casually. Karl just laughed. Even though his iPad was charged, Toby seemed to lose interest very quickly. They ended up running around again then bouncing on the bed in a tangle of limbs and pillows. Karl hoisted Toby up and let him fall backwards into the duvet with a delighted screech.

“Can you not?” Nick snapped.

It was sharp. Not loud — but definite. Tense. Enough to still the room. Karl froze mid-laugh. Toby blinked up at Nick, startled.

Nick stood up from the bed, arms crossed, expression tight. “It’s loud. He’s supposed to be winding down, not getting more hyper.”

For a split second, Karl just stared. Every part of him flinched inward.

And then the usual impulse hit. Leave. Get out. Don’t make it worse.

He stood, brushing his sleeves down, trying not to show the sting.

But this time he stopped himself. Don’t take it personally. He didn’t mean it that way.

He looked at Toby instead. “Come on, bud. Let’s pick a movie, yeah?”

His voice was quieter. Not cold. Just flat. A little cracked around the edges.

Toby didn’t argue. Just hopped off the bed and took Karl’s hand.

Nick didn’t say anything else.

Downstairs, they picked Paddington. Something safe. Soft. Toby curled into the sofa with a blanket that he and Karl shared, and within ten minutes, his eyes had started to drift.

Karl didn’t really watch the film.

His mind was still upstairs — stuck in the awkward pause, the look on Nick’s face, the way his own chest had tightened like he’d done something wrong just by existing.

He didn’t expect Nick to come down.

But he did.

He appeared near the end of the film, quiet, uncertain. Sat down on the far end of the sofa, not touching, not speaking. Just there. For a while, they watched in silence.

“I didn’t mean to snap like that.”

Karl didn’t look at him. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not,” Nick said. “He was just having fun. And so were you.”

Karl gave a small shrug. “You were right. He needed to calm down.”

Nick rubbed the back of his neck, gaze drifting toward Toby’s sleeping form.

“It’s not his fault I’m having a bad day,” he said. “Or yours.”

That made Karl glance at him. Not fully, just a shift of the eyes. But it was something.

“Rough one?” Karl asked, quieter now.

Nick hesitated. Then, with a tiny exhale: “Not really. Just… off.”

The words settled between them like dust.

“Yeah,” Karl said. “I know those.”

They lapsed into silence again, but it felt less heavy now. Less like failure. More like a new rhythm again, no pushing, prying or blaming for how the other felt. Just acceptance.

Karl didn’t move when Nick leaned back against the arm of the sofa, legs tucked up under him. He just stared at the screen. The soft ending of Paddington, music low, Toby snoring.

Maybe ten minutes passed like that and Karl instinctively picked another movie. Tangled. And then Karl shifted slightly, bumping Nick’s foot with his own.

“This is so our movie,” he whispered.

Nick turned to look at him, surprised. Then — smiled. A real one. Sleepy and soft.

“Except she doesn't fall out of windows.”

“It was one time.” Karl smiled. It was just one time and here they were now.

“Sorry I was a dick earlier,” Nick said.

“You weren’t,” Karl murmured. “You were just tired.”

Nick didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.

They didn’t move for a while. Toby sprawled between them, the credits rolling in the background. The light from the TV flickered gently across the walls.

Karl let his eyes drift shut.

Chapter Text

Wednesdays were starting to feel… predictable. Not in a bad way, not like school, or work, or the quiet shape of his mum’s silence at dinner. This was something else. Quieter, gentler. Familiar in a way that didn’t grate.

It was just a one-off. A helping hand. But then he showed up again, and again. And now?

Now it was Wednesday, and he was standing outside Nick’s door again, half-expecting to be told he wasn’t needed. But the door opened before he even knocked.

Toby beamed up at him. “Hello!”

Karl smiled. “Hey! You got room for me on movie night?”

“Only if you make the popcorn. Nick won’t make it for me.”

Karl followed him inside. The flat was warm, lights low, the faint scent of a vanilla air freshener nearby. Homey.

Nick was in the kitchen, rinsing out a mug. His hair was slightly damp, hoodie rumpled, like he’d only just pulled himself out of a nap or a bad mood.

Karl hovered in the doorway. “Why can’t he have popcorn, Grumpy?”

Nick glanced over, lips twitching into a tired smile. “He’s been asking if you were coming since school.”

“I’m starting to think he likes me more than you.”

Nick huffed. “That’s not new. But that's why I'm not making him popcorn. I've been demoted, and I'm salty.”

It was stupid — just a line, barely a joke — but it landed warmly in Karl’s chest anyway. He stepped further in.

“Well as the favourite, I guess I'll make him some.” Karl grinned.

Nick gestured to the cupboard. “Knock yourself out.”

Toby was already setting up a blanket fort in the living room, dragging cushions into position like a small dictator. Karl joined him, letting the rhythm of it all take over. There was something easy about Toby — no expectations, no pressure, just constant motion and sticky fingers and lopsided grins. Almost like the brother he never had. Nick drifted around the edges, quieter but present.

By the time the popcorn was ready and the film had started, Karl had settled into the corner of the sofa with Toby curled half-on, half-next to him, a blanket tossed haphazardly across both their legs.

Nick was opposite, cross-legged, one elbow resting on the arm of the couch, face lit by the flickering screen. Every so often, he’d glance over, not at Karl, exactly, but in his direction.

It was comfortable.

Too comfortable, maybe.

Karl hadn’t meant for it to become a thing. But here he was again, the third week running, and Nick hadn’t asked why. Hadn’t said he didn’t have to. Hadn’t pushed him away.

That silence felt louder than anything because Karl couldn't decipher it.

Later, when Toby had fallen asleep across Karl’s lap and the credits had rolled, Nick stood, stretching.

“I’ll take him to bed,” he said, rubbing a hand through his hair.

“I can—”

“I got it,” Nick said, a little too quickly. Then softer: “But thanks.”

Karl gently shifted so Nick could take him. Their fingers brushed in the handoff brief, meaningless. But it lingered anyway.

He stayed on the sofa after Nick disappeared down the hall. The room felt smaller without Toby’s noise. Dimmer. He heard muffled footsteps upstairs, the creak of the bed, and then silence.

Karl wasn’t sure if he was supposed to leave. He wasn’t sure why he wanted to stay. But he didn’t move.

Ten minutes later, Nick padded back into the room. He didn’t look surprised to see Karl still there. Just… thoughtful.

“You want a drink?” he asked, already heading toward the kitchen. “We’ve got, like, juice or… some weird sparkling water.”

“Juice is good. Thank you.”

They sat on the floor this time, backs to the sofa, glasses balanced on their knees.

Nick sipped his orange juice, expression unreadable. “This is becoming a habit.”

Karl gave a half-smile. “A bad one?”

Nick didn’t answer straight away. Then, almost too quietly: “No. Just… new.”

The word settled heavily between them. Not bad. Not good. Just real.

Karl picked at the seam of his sleeve. “You can tell me to stop, y’know. If it’s too much.”

“I’d let you know,” Nick said. “You know I’m not great at keeping that stuff in.”

That was true. Maybe too true.

They lapsed into silence again, but this time it was softer. The film menu still looped on the screen. Outside, a car passed. Somewhere above, water ran through the pipes. Karl was aware of every noise in the house.

Nick shifted beside him, stretching his legs out. His foot bumped Karl’s. Neither of them moved it.

“Thanks for helping,” Nick said after a while. “With him. With… all of it.”

Karl swallowed. “It’s not charity. I like being here.”

“I know,” Nick said. “That’s the bit that scares me.”

Karl looked at him then, but Nick’s gaze was on the screen again, face unreadable. They didn’t talk after that. Just sat in the quiet. Close enough to feel it, far enough to pretend it didn’t mean anything.

Karl headed home an hour later, hoodie zipped to the neck, the scent of popcorn clinging to the sleeves.

He didn’t overthink.

Didn’t text Alex back.

Didn’t think about what it all meant.

He just knew one thing, steady and small and quietly terrifying.

He’d be back next Wednesday.

And probably the one after that.

Chapter Text

They didn’t talk about it.

Not the fact that Karl had been over every Wednesday for the last three weeks. Not the way he always showed up right before dinner, sleeves half-covering his hands, eyes already tired. Not the way Nick had started checking the clock around six and a half, hoping the knock would come.

It wasn’t a plan. It wasn’t a thing.

But it kept happening.

And that rhythm, whatever it was, didn’t feel strange anymore. It felt… safe.

Karl made Toby laugh in a way Nick rarely managed after long days. He never minded watching the same film twice. He didn’t ask questions when Nick was quiet, or twitchy, or somewhere else in his head.

He was just there, making everything that little bit better.

At school, though, it was different.

The closeness, the easy warmth, never translated past the front door of Nick’s house. At school, they were just two people in overlapping circles. Friendly. Not close enough to draw attention.

Except Nick was starting to wonder if people had noticed.

That thought hadn’t bothered him. Not until today.

It happened in the hallway, between classes, that period where everyone was tired and half-tuned out. Ellie was rambling about her group project, Karl beside her with a notebook tucked under one arm. Nick trailed slightly behind, not quite part of the conversation but not far enough to be forgotten.

Alex caught up with them at the turn.

“Wow,” he said, slotting in on Karl’s other side. “Didn’t know you still went here.”

Karl glanced over. “Nice to see you too.”

Alex grinned, easily. “You’ve been off the radar lately. Hibernating?”

Karl shrugged. “Just been busy.”

Alex’s eyes flicked, just for a second, toward Nick.

“Right. Makes sense.”

He said it like a joke. Like filler. Like nothing. Nobody laughed. Nobody reacted. But Nick felt it.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of grey halls and low-level static. Nick barely spoke through lunch. He didn’t mention the comment, and neither did Karl. Maybe he didn’t even clock it. Maybe it really was nothing.

But it stuck, like something caught in his teeth, annoying and invisible and impossible to ignore. Karl hadn’t done anything wrong. Not really.

But Nick still found himself withdrawing just slightly. Like a thread being tugged.

That evening, Karl came over again. No knock. Just Toby swinging the door open like he’d been standing there waiting for the moment he heard Karl’s footsteps.

“You’re late,” he announced, iPad in hand.

“It’s literally two minutes past seven,” Karl said, stepping in.

“That’s late.”

Karl ruffled his hair and followed him inside.

Nick had been curled up on the end of the sofa, a blanket pulled over his legs. He looked up as Karl walked in, and his eyes were tired. There was a familiar ache in Nick’s chest.

But the hallway comment still itched at the back of his brain. Karl didn’t notice. He smiled like always. Like nothing had shifted. Like the air didn’t feel fractionally different. Like the silences didn't feel even more stretched out. Like every touch wasn't magnified. Nick returned the smile, but it didn’t reach all the way.

The evening passed as usual. Kind of.

Toby made them watch the same animated film they’d watched the week before. Nick cleaned up the popcorn bowls and tried not to overthink the silence.

Later, once Toby had been sent to bed and the lights were low, Karl sat beside him on the sofa instead of the floor. Closer than usual. Nick didn’t move away but he didn’t lean in, either.

They sat there for a while, quiet. The only sound was the low hum of the TV menu screen and the faint tick of the radiator cooling. Karl shifted beside him, just slightly. His hand rested on the cushion between them.

For a moment, Nick thought he might reach across the space. Might brush against his sleeve or let their fingers meet. That ridiculous ache in his chest pulsed again.

But Karl didn’t move. And Nick didn’t ask him to.

Later that night he was thinking. Constantly.

He didn’t know why Alex’s comment mattered. But it did. Not because it was cruel, it wasn’t. Not even really directed at him. But because it made everything feel… seen. Suddenly real. Like this wasn’t just soft evenings and borrowed time anymore.

Like Karl wasn’t hiding what they were doing, exactly, but he also wasn’t acknowledging it. Not at school. Not to Alex. And Nick couldn’t help but wonder if Karl had made up his mind. Or if he was just waiting until someone forced him to.

Nick didn’t say any of that. Of course he didn’t. He sat still, hoodie pulled up around his neck, hands tucked under his knees.

Karl yawned eventually. Said something soft about needing to get up early. “Same time next week?” he asked, like it was nothing.

Nick nodded. “Yeah. Sure.”

And that was it.

After Karl left, Nick sat in the quiet for a long time.

He told himself he wasn’t going to spiral anymore. That it didn’t matter. That he wasn’t responsible for Karl’s bad decision-making or mixed signals or inability to be clear.

But he still felt like something had shifted, even if it was only in him.

The room felt bigger when Karl wasn’t in it.

And lonelier.

Chapter Text

Nick had been quieter last time. Not in a bad way, not like before, when everything he said came through clenched teeth and clipped sentences, but quieter in a way Karl couldn’t read.

Still soft. Still there. But further away somehow. Karl hadn’t wanted to push. Not again. So when Wednesday crept up and Nick didn’t text first, Karl took it as a sign. Or maybe an out. He told himself it was just one week. A break. Something small to give them both space.

Instead, he texted Ellie and Alex. George was MIA.

Study night? I need to at least try to pass my classes this year.

Ellie was in. So was Alex.

Done.

Alex’s house was always warm. Not messy, not neat. Lived-in. Familiar. Karl had spent a hundred versions of this evening here — half-hearted revision, sugar highs from sweets, Ellie spinning off into gossip halfway through the second page.

It was safe. Nothing dramatic. Nothing new. Just comfort.

Ellie sprawled across the floor with a highlighter uncapped in her mouth. “If I fail this, I’m blaming both of you.”

“No one told you to choose the advanced math,” Karl said, flipping through his textbook.

“I like suffering.” Ellie shrugged, drawing a flower with her highlighter.

Alex glanced over. “You’ve got the right company then.”

Karl smiled. He wasn’t wrong.

They worked until nine. Kind of. Mostly talked. Ellie ran out of energy around half-eight and started scrolling through her phone mid-sentence.

“I’m gonna head off,” she said eventually, standing and stretching. “You guys are useless anyway.”

“Love you too,” Alex muttered, walking her to the door.

Karl stayed seated on the bedroom floor, his notes abandoned, pencil tapping rhythmically against his textbook. He felt weird and flat all at once, like he hadn’t slept, even though he had.

When Alex came back in, the air shifted. Not heavy. Just awkward.

He sat opposite Karl again. No more group buffer. No excuses.

Karl avoided eye contact, drawing lazy circles in the margin of his notebook. Just waiting for the right moment to say something. Anything.

“I’m sorry,” he said eventually, voice too quiet. “That things are weird.”

Alex was quiet for a moment. “Are you, though?”

Karl looked up. Alex shrugged, not angry, just tired. “You told me we could try. Maybe. That’s what you said. And any time I bring it up, you shut down.”

“I know.”

“There’s no pressure,” Alex said. “I’ve never wanted that from you. But the way you are with him…”

Karl flinched.

Alex didn’t stop. “It hurts. Because you’re trying with him. And I’m still here wondering if you meant any of it.”

“I didn’t mean to try,” Karl said, his throat dry. “It just kind of happened.”

“And you don’t mind it?”

Karl hesitated. Then shook his head. “No. I don’t mind it.”

That landed hard. Not because it was harsh — but because it was honest.

Alex nodded slowly, like that confirmed something he’d already guessed. “So… am I imagining this whole thing between us?”

Karl closed his eyes for half a second.

“No,” he said. “You’re not. It’s there.”

Alex let out a breath. “We were good at living with it. Just… waiting. And then you brought it up. You said maybe. And now it’s like I’m the only one holding onto that maybe.”

Karl rubbed his hands over his face. “I know. I’m leading you on. It’s so selfish. I’m sorry.”

They locked eyes. It didn’t feel angry. It felt like standing on the edge of something high and not being sure if you were supposed to jump or climb down.

“Then tell me you want him,” Alex said. His voice didn’t break — but it was barely steady. “Stop leading me on.”

Karl didn’t speak. The silence stretched.

Alex’s jaw tensed. “Just say it.”

Karl opened his mouth. Closed it again. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

Karl looked down. “Because that means ending this. And I don’t want to lose this.”

“You can’t have both.”

“I know.”

But he didn’t move.

Neither did Alex.

The staring held. Sharp. Unblinking. Waiting. Then Alex leaned forward. Not fast. Not forceful. Just slow enough for Karl to stop it.

Karl didn’t.

They kissed. It was soft, unsure and clumsy. It didn’t feel like anything should. No sparks. No clarity. Just pressure and confusion and the taste of something that used to mean more.

Alex pulled away. Karl just froze.

Karl blinked. “I didn’t mean—”

“Yeah,” Alex said. “You never do.”

Karl stared, almost in shock. He opened his mouth to speak.

“Let me guess… You have to go?” He didn't snap but he might as well have. His tone was sharp. Karl just nodded and apologised.

He didn’t sleep when he got home. Couldn’t sit still. Couldn’t eat. Couldn’t stop thinking about the look on Alex’s face, or the way Nick had pulled back that night, or how nothing felt like it used to, not even the things that were supposed to be simple.

Everything felt tight again. In his chest. In his skin. He stared at his dinner until the edges blurred, then pushed it aside and climbed into bed without brushing his teeth.

Just for tonight, he told himself.

Just tonight.

Chapter Text

Karl cancelled on Wednesday.

He said it was nothing, just homework, or plans, or something that came up. He used every excuse

And that was fine. Really. Well… Nick told himself it was fine. But then the evening rolled in, slow and quiet and hollow in a way he hadn’t expected, and he missed him.

Missed the familiar knock, the mess of popcorn, the way Toby lit up when Karl walked through the door. Missed Karl’s socks half-falling down and the way he always sat with his knees drawn up like he was trying to take up less space. Missed his quiet presence. The way things didn’t feel so heavy when he was around.

And that scared him because it wasn’t supposed to be like this.

He didn’t text Karl that night. Didn’t want to seem clingy. Or weird. Or like he cared more than he should.

The next day at school, Karl was friendly. Casual. Like always. But Nick could feel it, that tiny shift. Slightly more space between them when they walked. Slightly more hesitation when Karl looked his way.

And Nick didn’t know what to do with that. For the first time in a while, he'd felt unsure.

They crossed paths at lunch, sitting together at one of the crowded tables. Ellie and Alex joined them, their voices filling the small space with chatter and laughter.

Ellie was in the middle of some ridiculous story, and Alex leaned back, arms crossed, a grin playing on his lips, but Nick caught the way his eyes flicked sideways at Karl, sharp and just a little tired.

Karl smiled politely but kept glancing at his watch, his fingers tapping nervously on the table. Then, the smile faltered for a fraction of a second.

“I’ve got to go,” Karl said abruptly, standing up. “Something came up.” He didn’t wait for anyone to answer, just turned and left, shoulders stiff.

Nick caught the quick flash of Alex’s eyes as he rolled them, a small, almost imperceptible gesture, but Nick saw it. The silence that followed felt heavier than the words unsaid.

By Friday, Nick had given up trying to figure it out.

Karl was distant, but not cruel. Quiet, but not cold. Nothing was wrong, exactly, and maybe that’s what made it worse.

There was nothing to confront. No obvious reason to be upset. Just this space opening between them like a hairline crack in glass, small, but impossible to ignore if you knew it was there.

Nick didn’t want to ask. Didn’t want to push. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t do that again, wouldn’t smother, wouldn’t chase.

If Karl needed space, he’d give it to him.

He just didn’t expect it to hurt this much.

He didn't want to want him back this badly.

That night, he lay on his back in bed staring at the ceiling, phone on his chest, unread messages glowing like guilt.

Toby had fallen asleep early. The flat was quiet. Too quiet. He typed a message three times, deleted it every time.

You okay?

Missed you this week.

Did I do something?

Nothing felt right. Nothing felt safe. Eventually, he left it alone. Turned his phone over and closed his eyes. But sleep didn’t come.

Only the ache did, low in his chest, dull and steady.

He tried not to think about what it meant.

Tried not to want more.

Tried not to remember how easy it had been, just a few days ago, to sit beside Karl and believe—just for a moment—that maybe this was something.

And now it felt like nothing.

Chapter Text

He watched him slam the door. It wasn’t supposed to be a fight. They’d barely even said anything and somehow it had gone from zero to one hundred in a matter of seconds.

Karl had shown up late, half-apologetic, half-distracted. Nick just bit his tongue and got on with it. He didn’t want to be that person. He didn’t want to be needy or clingy or fragile. But when Karl checked his phone for the third time and mumbled something about having to go early, Nick snapped.

“Why did you even come if you were just going to leave?”

Karl looked up, startled. “What?”

Nick crossed his arms. “Seriously. You were on your phone the whole time. You didn’t even want to be here.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

Karl exhaled sharply. “Why does it matter?”

“Because it does!” Nick’s voice cracked on the last word, louder than he meant it to be. “You’ve been weird for days and now you’re acting like I’m the problem. You’re pulling away, again.”

“I didn’t say that either,” Karl muttered, already getting his backpack on. Obviously avoiding the part about him pulling away. Typical.

“You know what? Just go. It’s fine.”

Karl’s jaw tightened. “Whatever.”

And just like that. He was gone.

Nick sat back down on the bed, heart thudding, eyes burning. He didn’t even know what the fight had been about. Not really. But the ache it left behind was real, and he didn't like that. He didn't like any of this anymore.

—

“I still think I'm a little bit lost, I’m still aware of everything, if that makes sense.”

“Can you explain a little bit more?” Melissa asked gently.

Nick took a deep breath in. “It’s just always there. And it sucks. I'm aware it's there. I feel like I can't figure myself out when it's there. It makes up 99 per cent of my personality.”

“Your depression doesn't define you or who you are. You have a strong, likeable personality.”

Nick just scoffed. It would have meant more coming from somebody who wasn't being paid to listen to his problems.

“You don't think you're likeable?” Melissa had that tone that sounded like ‘you poor thing’.

“Not at the moment I'm not.” He said blankly.

“Why?”

“Karl and I had a fight,” Nick said, sitting stiffly in the chair.

She nodded slowly. “Okay. What about?”

Nick stared at the corner of the rug. “I don’t even know. I think we both know we’re pulling away from each other. But that’s not a reason to be mad about it, is it?”

“You’re allowed to be upset by it.”

“But I'm not. He doesn't owe me anything. He shouldn’t be made to feel like shit because he didn't feel like hanging out. But he was because I yelled at him.”

Melissa waited, knowing there was more.

Nick hesitated. “We weren’t supposed to be… this. We were getting close again and it was good. I didn’t think it’d happen like that. We were just… finding a rhythm. I liked it. A lot.”

His hands twisted in his lap. His voice dropped. “I like it and then I treat him like that. How does that make me likeable?”

“How is it being around him so much. I know you say you like it, but why?”

“I like how he’s quiet but never makes me feel like I have to fill the silence. I like how he’s good with Toby. I like how he always makes room for me even when I haven’t asked for it.”

The words came quicker, unfiltered.

“I like that he waits to laugh at my jokes until I laugh first. I like that he notices things no one else does, even when he’s pretending not to care.”

He paused. Looked up, just once.

“I don't think I like it, I love it.  And… I think I might love him too.”

There was a long silence.

“You don’t sound too sure,” the therapist said gently.

Nick swallowed. “Because it’s terrifying.”

—

Karl’s POV

Karl was doing his best to avoid eye contact with the clock, he didn't want to seem rude. But truthfully he’d been counting down the seconds since he walked in the door.

“So school’s fine,” he said. “Work’s boring. My boss changed the rota again. I’ve got a chemistry mock next week and I’ll probably fail it because that's all I seem to be doing at the moment.”

His therapist didn’t interrupt. She waited a moment, just to check he was definitely finished speaking before talking.

“Your grades are going up, what's happened to make you feel like you're failing?”

“I’m not eating. Again.” He admitted, a lot more casually than he'd done in the past. “I can't focus when this is happening. I'm tired and cranky and shut off. It brings out the worst in me, yet I can't seem to stop.”

“Is there anything that's triggered this?”

“I’m losing control. Again.”

Karl shifted. “Alex kissed me.”

That got a raised brow. “Okay. When was this?”

“Last week. At his house. Ellie had gone home. I said things were weird and he… brought it up again. The thing between us.”

“And you?”

“I didn’t stop him.”

There was no judgment in the therapist’s face — just space.

Karl’s voice dropped. “I think I let it happen because I didn’t want to lose what we had. But then things have just spiralled. Keeping him at arm's length was the way I made sure he didn't get hurt.”

“And now the situation has become worse since you allowed someone else to take over?”

“Yeah. And I’m pulling away from Nick, I just- I’ve really fucked up and I don't know how to fix it.”

“I know you said you let him kiss you because you were scared of losing him. But is there any other reason you let him?”

“I like him. I always have, it's always been there. I thought it would help clarify things for me, I guess. Which is a really selfish way to figure it out.”

“Did it clarify anything for you?”

Karl shook his head.

“How did it feel, when you kissed him?”

Karl stared at his hands. “Like a finally moment. But it didn’t feel… right. Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t bad, it just didn’t feel... Right. I think that's the only way I can explain it.”

He paused.

“But it doesn't make sense because I’ve- we've thought about it so many times and we make sense together. And yet it just… just wasn't right.”

He looked up, shame creasing his brow. “I don’t know why I let it happen.” He groaned, rubbing his face with his hands.

She gave him a moment.

“How about when you kissed Nick? How did that feel?

Karl froze.

His throat tightened.

A full minute passed.

“Like everything made sense,” he whispered.

She smiled softly. “There’s your answer, sweetheart.”

Chapter Text

Nick had just shut his bedroom door when a knock came. Not loud. Not urgent. Just a light tap. His journal sat in front of him, ready to take every single thought that was in his head. He opened the door to find Toby standing there, hair sticking up like a dandelion, his ever-serious expression in place.

“There’s a boy outside,” Toby said.

Nick frowned. “What boy?”

Toby rolled his eyes like he was seventy, not seven. “Karl. He’s just standing there. Like an idiot.”

Nick’s heart stuttered — one of those awful, hopeful flinches that felt like tripping over nothing.“He’s—what?”

“I told him you were upstairs and he said okay but then he didn’t move so… I dunno. Maybe he’s broken.”

Nick didn’t bother putting on shoes. He padded down the stairs, across the living room, and opened the front door slowly. Karl stood at the bottom of the steps, hands in the pockets of his hoodie, eyes fixed on some invisible point on the ground.

He looked up.

“Hey,” he said, small.

Nick folded his arms. “Not climbing through my window? Are you okay?” He meant it as a joke but the second the words left his mouth, he realised it wasn't the time.

Karl shook his head. “Not really.”

Silence stretched between them, soft and sharp all at once.

“What’s up?” Nick asked.

Karl hesitated. “I told my therapist a lot of shit that I need to tell you.”

Nick blinked. “Okay…”

Then Karl’s face twisted into panic. “Not in, like, a trauma bond way, or—God, I didn’t mean it like that—I’m just—” He exhaled roughly. “I’m sick of avoiding it. If I don't say it now I never will.”

Nick bit the inside of his cheek. The sting helped him stay present. He stared at him for a second. He wanted to be angry, or cold, or indifferent, anything but this soft, aching relief in his chest. But he just stepped aside and held the door open.

Karl hesitated for only a second before stepping in. They didn’t talk much at first. The house was dim, warm, and settled in for the night. Nick led him upstairs, quietly, like they were sneaking in old versions of themselves.

They sat on the edge of Nick’s bed, a foot of space between them. Karl kept fidgeting with the cuff of his sleeve. Nick picked at a hangnail he hadn’t realised was there. It was quiet. Too quiet. But then he spoke.

“I let him kiss me,” Karl said eventually. A pause. Then, quieter: “Alex.”

Nick didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

“I let him kiss me,” Karl said again, voice cracking this time. “And it didn’t feel bad. It just didn’t feel like anything. Not the way I thought it would.”

Nick swallowed.

“And then I saw you. And I kept seeing you. And the closer we got again the more I thought maybe it’s just comfort or distraction or—” Karl exhaled hard. “But it’s not. I don't know why it’s taken me this long to accept that it’s you. It’s always been you.”

The words landed like bricks in Nick’s chest. He hated how much they mattered.

“I didn’t stop the kiss,” Karl said, quieter now. “Because I didn’t want to hurt him. But then I hurt everyone else anyway.”

Nick looked at him finally. “Including me.”

Karl winced. “Yeah.”

Silence again. Not cold this time. Just full.

“I had a feeling something happened, and that's why I yelled at you,” Nick said. “And I think it’s because I didn’t want to admit how much it hurt that you were pulling away. But either way I'm sorry.”

“I was scared,” Karl said. “Still am.”

Nick stared at him. “Why are you scared?”

Karl looked up. “Because this still isn’t healthy, is it?”

Nick blinked. “It’s better than before,” he said gently.

“I know. But what if—what if it gets like that again? And you end up worse?” Karl’s voice cracked. “I can’t do that to you. Not again.”

Nick’s chest ached. He leaned forward slightly. “But what if it doesn’t end up like that, Karl?”

That stopped him.

“We’re not the same people we were a few months ago,” Nick said. “We still mess up. But I’m not responsible for you and you’re not responsible for me. We’ve gotten good at knowing that.”

“We have,” Karl admitted, a soft breath of relief in his voice. “God. When did therapy turn you into a mature adult?”

Nick smiled, small and real. “It didn’t. I cried over spilling juice on my homework this morning.”

Karl laughed. Just once. Nick shifted slightly, closer. Not enough to touch. Just enough to feel. 

“You pushed your way into my life,” he said. “You can’t leave now. Even if we're not sure what this is yet.”

Karl glanced at him, eyes a little wet. “Yeah?” he murmured.

Nick nodded. “Yeah. You're here. I want you here. Even when it’s a mess.”

Karl twisted toward him slightly. “I’m trying to be better. I swear. I just don’t know how to be… like this. When everything’s already so—” he gestured vaguely. “Loud. All the time.”

Nick nodded. “It’s loud in here too.”

A beat.

“I told my therapist I might be in love with you,” he said. Just like that.

Karl stared. Didn’t flinch. Just let the words settle.

“Okay,” he whispered back. “I’m scared to be anything if it means breaking you more than I already have.”

Nick’s throat tightened. “Then let’s not do that. Let’s just be whatever this is. Slowly.”

Karl rubbed at his face with both hands, exhaling hard. “You’re gonna ruin me, you know that?”

“It’s what I do.” Nick shrugged, with a smile. Karl smiled back.

Nick knew that smile would probably kill him one day.

It was dangerous. Addictive.

But right now it made breathing easier again.

Chapter Text

The café smell clung to Karl’s clothes, but instead of the nice usual vanilla smell, it was the weird cardboard smell of takeaway cups. He tugged off his hoodie the second he got in, dropping his bag by the stairs. His arms ached from cleaning the stupid grinder that jammed again, and the only thing worse than the grinder was the boss who insisted it was “just temperamental.”

His phone buzzed.

Nick:
Toby is a little rat don’t listen to anything he says ever again.

Karl smiled.

Karl:
what did he do now

Nick:
I talked to my mom and he was eavesdropping

Karl laughed softly under his breath.

Karl:
oh dear…

He stared at the screen a second longer than necessary, thumb hovering. Something itched under his skin, not in a bad way. Just a pull. Something about Nick opening up, about talking to his mom at all, made him feel like… maybe he should do the same.

He hadn’t. Not really. Not in a long time. 

The floorboards creaked under his feet as he made his way to the kitchen. His mom was chopping carrots with dramatic focus, as if she was imagining the carrot was someone she despised with all of her being.

He cleared his throat.

She didn’t look up. “You’re home early.”

“Yeah.”

Another chop. Silence.

“Hey,” Karl said. “Can I tell you something?”

His mom glanced up, suspicious. “What have you done?”

Karl snorted. “What? Nothing!”

She narrowed her eyes. “Karl, you only ask to talk when you’ve crashed your bike, failed a test, or said something emotionally repressed. What’s happened?”

“I’m just… trying to get ahead of the press.” He said nervously.

She blinked. “What on earth does that mean?”

“I wanna tell you stuff before you find out from someone else.”

That got her full attention. Knife down. Hands braced on the counter. “Who would I—Karl, are you okay?”

He scratched the back of his neck. “Nick’s mom. Okay. Just… listen.”

He sat down at the table, words caught in his throat for a second. Then they came.

“I was at his last night, and we talked. A lot. She knows, I know she's gonna tell you so I'm telling you now.”

His mom said nothing, just pulled out a chair beside him. “Why were you there?”

“Things have been weird between us lately. I came to a sudden realisation in therapy that I think I want to be more than friends with him.”

She paused.

“I told him,” Karl said. “Nick. I told him everything, about Alex and how we kissed, how I'm scared and- and he didn’t run away. Which was… weirdly terrifying.”

His mom was processing all of the information. “You kissed Alex, your best friend, and he was okay with that?”

“Yeah.”

“You need to back up a little here mister, you've skipped a few chapters.”

Karl exhaled. “I haven't. That's just the way it's gone. But when you get told that I was at his house at like midnight, don't be alarmed.”

“You just went over and told him everything?”

Karl nodded, tapping his fingers on the table. “I finished therapy, I went on a walk, and then I just went. I don't know why but… I'm glad I did. I feel better.”

“I’m proud of you,” she said softly. “That can’t have been easy.”

Karl’s eyes burned. He looked down at his hands.

“I just… I don’t want to keep screwing things up. I want to be honest and fix what I can but—” He paused. “I’m still struggling. With… all of it.”

“I’ve noticed,” she said gently. “But I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to bring it up.”

“I didn’t.” He rubbed his hands together. “But I do now.”

She reached across the table and gave his wrist a soft squeeze.

“It was going well for a while, I swear. But I don’t want to try. Not right now. I feel like I’m slipping again and pretending like I’m not is making it worse.”

She nodded. “And Nick?”

“He’s not the reason,” Karl said quickly. “I don’t feel worse because of him. It’s just… there. And he’s part of my life now. But not in a way that makes it heavier. If anything—” His throat caught. “It’s lighter. When he’s around. Which is very different to before.

His mom smiled faintly. “You really like him, don’t you?”

Karl nodded.

“Then let’s work on the rest. One thing at a time.”

He opened his mouth to answer and there was a knock on the door. They both froze.

Karl blinked. “Are you expecting someone?”She shook her head.

He got up slowly, padded to the front door, and cracked it open. Nick’s mom stood there, arms folded, polite smile barely holding back nerves.

“Oh, what a lovely surprise!” Karl’s mom beamed from the kitchen. “I get another day that isn’t Wednesday!”

Nick’s mom offered a smile and looked right past Karl. “I think we should talk.”

Karl’s stomach turned. He just nodded politely, stepped aside, and retreated up the stairs, heart thudding. He shifted closer to the bannister, just enough to catch the tone without being seen.

The kettle clicked on downstairs.

“What’s going on?” his mom asked gently.

A pause. Then Nick’s mom sighed. “He told me Karl came over last night. I didn’t know you’d been seeing each other again. Not like that.”

“Right.”

“I knew they were hanging out on Wednesdays, I just… I didn’t think it had gone further.”

“It hasn’t—not really,” his mom said carefully. “They’ve been talking, reconnecting. I think they’re figuring it out.”

“That’s what scares me.”

Karl swallowed.

“I’m not trying to be the bad guy,” Nick’s mom added. “I just… I know Nick. He’s good at hiding things. That’s why it went on so long last time. And now? He’s clearly confused. His depression has been worse lately. I don’t know if this—whatever they think they have going on—is the right thing.”

Silence.

“I don’t want Karl to be the distraction,” she said, voice catching. “The reason he goes under again. I can’t do that again. Not anymore.”

Karl pressed his back against the wall. His chest felt tight. Too tight. The air in the hallway felt thinner than it had a minute ago.

“I know you’re scared,” his mom reassured. “I get it. Karl’s scared too, I think they both are. He’s second-guessing himself but outside of that, he's doing really well. He’s still struggling, yeah, but he’s taking accountability. He’s talking again. That didn’t happen overnight.”

“He’s second-guessing himself for a reason.”

“Because he doesn’t want to hurt your son,” his mom said, firmer now. “Because he’s overthinking every step of this. That’s not a bad thing, that’s growth. Think about how quickly they went into it the first time”

Nick’s mom sounded tired. “They’re kids. They think they know what love is but—”

“I think Karl really does,” his mom said quietly. “I’ve never seen him like this.”

“It doesn’t mean it’s right.”

More silence.

“I think they need time. And space. But if we interfere too much, if we force their hands, I think we’ll only push them further into it.”

After another moment she continued: “They’ve come so far on their own. They’ve told us things willingly, not because they had to. That means something.”

Karl stared at the carpet. His throat burned. He was trying. He was trying so fucking hard.

He backed into his room, closed the door quietly, and sat on the floor with his back against it. His heart thudded somewhere behind his ribs in an awkward, uneven pattern.

Every doubt he’d had came to the surface. He didn’t know what he was anymore. A problem? A fix? A reason someone else might get worse?

He pulled out his phone with shaky hands and typed before he could second-guess it:

Karl:
your mom is upset.
is this a bad idea?

It didn’t take long.

Nick:
she needs time.
no.

Karl blinked down at the screen.

Karl:
are you sure?

This time, the typing dots hovered longer. But the reply, when it came, settled like something solid in Karl’s chest.

Nick:
never been more sure of anything in my life.

Chapter Text

Alex’s POV (kinda??) 

The bowling alley smelled like slush, old shoes, and overcooked hot dogs, and somehow, Ellie was thriving.

“I’m so glad we’re all back together!” she beamed, holding a bowling ball that looked way too heavy for her. “This is so overdue!”

“I’m actually kinda excited,” George said, and he was smiling too. He was actually smiling, which was wild considering a few weeks ago he’d practically disappeared.

“I’m proud of you, bestie,” Ellie said, bumping her hip against his. “Therapy king.”

George gave a peace sign and immediately rolled the bowling ball straight into the gutter.

Ellie cackled. “It can't fix everything.”

Nick had arrived a little late, looking flushed and windswept like he’d sprinted from a different dimension. Karl lit up when he saw him. Alex tried not to notice that. He failed.

The first half of the night was chaos, mostly Ellie yelling at the bowling pins and Nick trying not to smile whenever Karl said something quietly in his ear. They weren’t touching, not really. But they were close. Closer than before. Close in the way that said something has changed, and we’re not naming it yet.

Alex ducked out halfway through their second game. The arcade lights buzzed in the distance, quieter, humming with colour and space. He just needed air. Or something like it.

Karl found him near the claw machines, hands in his pockets, looking unsure. Alex glanced at him, then back at the flashing neon display.

“Having fun?” he asked dryly.

Karl smiled faintly. “More than you.”

Alex scoffed. “Can you blame me?”

They stood in silence for a beat. It wasn’t tense. Just very delicate.

“Look,” Alex said eventually, turning toward him, “I’m sorry. About everything. Can we start over?”

Karl’s face shifted. “Is that okay for you?”

Alex shrugged. “I managed to wait before all of this... I can wait again.”

“Don’t say that,” Karl muttered. “That sucks.”

“It’s true.” Alex’s voice dropped.“I wanted to be mad at you. I tried to hate you.”

Karl laughed under his breath. “You wouldn’t be the first.”

“But I don’t,” Alex said, quieter now. “I hate him more.”

Karl blinked. “Nick?”

“Yeah,” Alex said. “Because you look at him like he’s already got your whole heart. And I see it. It really sucks, I’m not gonna pretend it doesn’t.”

Karl didn’t answer.

Alex looked up, and his expression was quieter. Older, somehow. “I don’t really hate him. That’s the worst part. He didn’t do anything wrong. You were just already halfway gone the second he looked at you.”

Karl opened his mouth. Closed it again.

Alex smiled, dry, not bitter. “You know it’s true.”

“Yeah,” Karl whispered. “I do.”

A silence settled, heavier than before. It didn’t hurt exactly. It just sat there between them, the shape of everything unspoken.

“I need you to know I’m sorry for the way I handled it,” Karl said. “I still want to be your friend. But only if that’s something you want. And if not, I’ll back off.”

Alex squinted at him. “Is there an echo in here? Have I not already said we can start over?”

Karl gave a breath of laughter, but his eyes were glassy. “I just wanted to make sure. I’m trying.”

“Try harder,” Alex said, nudging him. It was mostly a joke. Mostly.

Karl bumped him back. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Alex said. It landed a little differently when he said it. They both knew it.

Alex muttered after it fell silent. “You owe me if this goes to shit again.”

“Deal.” Karl shrugged.

“Eventually? Right?” He asked cautiously.

“Eventually,” Karl reassured.

“Screw you and your charm.” Alex nudged him. They both laughed. And even though it hurt, Alex realised he liked hearing that laugh. Liked knowing Karl was okay.

Even if it wasn’t his anymore.

Back at the lanes, Ellie was on her knees, begging a bowling pin to fall. Nick looked half-exasperated and half-in-love. George was filming it on his phone like blackmail.

“It’s not fair!” She exclaimed.

When Karl and Alex came back, the group looked a little less cracked than before. Still weird, still wobbly — but stitched together again.

As the lights dimmed for ‘disco bowling’ and terrible music blared through the speakers, Karl caught Alex’s eye one more time and just smiled.

Alex just nodded. It still stung. But it didn’t burn.

—

The group was gathering at the exit, Karl lingering behind like he was waiting for someone to stop him. He didn't want to ask again, he'd been pestering for ages.

“Alright,” Ellie said, stretching with dramatic flair. “That was fun. Weirdly wholesome. We need to do this more often.”

“Maybe we’ll go without you,” George said with a grin.

“Okay, that’s rude—”

“You threw a bowling shoe,” he pointed out.

“It wasn’t at anyone,” Ellie protested.

“I rest my case,” George said, putting his hands up.

Karl still hadn’t moved from the arcade threshold, staring longingly at a claw machine with a tragic, lopsided bear inside.

Nick tilted his head. “You alright?”

Karl looked vaguely betrayed. “I’m not gonna ask again… But-.”

Ellie turned, narrowed her eyes at him, then looked at Nick. “Oh my God, is this what I sound like? Constantly complaining?”

“Yes.” The whole group said in unison.

“Screw you guys.”

Nick bumped Karl’s shoulder. “You wanna go back in?”

Karl looked sheepish. “No, it’s fine—”

“I can win you that teddy bear.”

“You can’t,” Karl said.

Nick just grinned. “Watch me.”

Karl leaned against the side of the machine, watching Nick concentrate like it was a national sport. His tongue poked slightly out of the side of his mouth. His hand twitched every time the claw moved.

“This is the most intense I’ve ever seen you,” Karl murmured.

Nick didn’t blink. “I’m winning this fucking bear.”

“You swear in front of children?”

“You’re not a child.”

“I meant the bear. He can hear you.” Karl said, deadpan. Nick snorted.

It took six tries. Six painfully bad tries and one that nearly caused Karl physical pain from second-hand embarrassment. But then, somehow, the claw lifted a sad-looking bear with one ear flopped the wrong way and dropped it into the chute.

Nick turned slowly, lifting the prize like a trophy. Karl blinked. “You did it.”

Nick handed it over solemnly. “For you.”

Karl laughed, really laughed, the sound fuller than it had been in weeks. “Thank you. I will treasure him forever.”

They walked home in the soft night air, the bear tucked under Karl’s arm. It wasn’t cold, but Nick’s arm kept brushing against his. They didn’t move away. Didn’t comment on it either.

“He’s sweet. He looks like nobody would buy him.” Karl said, admiring the teddy.

“That’s such a you thing to say.” Nick grinned.

“Thanks again.”

Nick smirked. “I mean, with the amount of money I spent I could have bought you 6, better-looking bears.”

Karl dramatically gasped and covered the bears ears. “How dare you!”

Nick bumped him with his shoulder. “Worth every penny.” They walked in comfortable silence for a moment.

“I like this,” Karl said softly.

Nick glanced sideways. “Walking?”

“No. This. Just us.”

Nick nodded. “Me too.”

They kept walking, no rush in their steps. A streetlamp flickered above them as they passed under it, and Karl looked at Nick like he wanted to say more. There was always more in fairness, but instead, he just bumped their hands gently together. Nick didn’t pull away.

He looped their pinkies. Not holding. Not pushing.

Karl smiled, soft and stunned, basking in whatever this feeling was. “You really won me a bear.”

Nick shrugged. “Anything for you.”

They stopped at Nick’s door. Karl hesitated, shifting the bear in his arms, wondering what else he could say.

“Thanks for today.”

Nick nodded with a grin. “It was fun. Long overdue. Nice to have a bit of fun every once in a while.”

He locked eyes with Karl, slowly scanning his features. Karl felt heat creeping onto his face.

“What?” He asked nervously.

Nick shook his head as if he was shaking every single thought out of his head. Eye contact was resumed with him again. It was like time had stopped and they were the only two people in the whole world. Those familiar feelings of the knots in his stomach and the tightness in his chest made themselves known.

Their faces were getting closer and closer, slowly reducing the gap between them. Their noses slightly touched and that made Nick freeze entirely. Their lips were almost brushing, and they both paused like they just needed confirmation from the other to make the final move.

The porch light flicked on pulling both boys back to reality. Nick’s mom opened the door.

“Oh… hey.” She said awkwardly, looking at the way the two were positioned.

“I was just leaving.” Karl stuttered, stepping back, almost tripping over the doorstep.

“Yeah. You should go,” she said gently. Not unkind. Just cautious.

Nick nodded silently, devastated that it didn't happen. His phone buzzed in his pocket not even a few seconds later.

Karl:
we never named the bear
also you owe me a kiss

Nick laughed under his breath.

Nick:
I got you the bear. Maybe you owe instead?

Karl:
deal.

Chapter Text

Nick was still buzzing when he closed the front door behind him. His hand lingered on the latch longer than necessary, thumb brushing over the lock, like part of him wasn’t ready to let the moment end.

He turned around—and nearly jumped.

His mom stood in the hallway in her dressing gown, arms folded, her face unreadable.

“What?” he asked, too quickly, heart still racing.

“Are we gonna talk about that?” she said.

He blinked. “Talk about what? Nothing happened.”

“It was about to.”

Nick scoffed, brushing past her. “But it didn’t.”

“Nick, just—listen to me for a second—”

“I’m tired,” he muttered, heading for the stairs.

She stepped in front of him before he could pass. “Nick.”

“Mom—”

“Have you really thought this through?”

He crossed his arms. “What do you think I've been doing for the past few months?”

“I don’t want you to get hurt, I don't want to be in your business but…” she said softly. “That’s all.”

“So don’t be in my business,” he snapped.

Her expression faltered. “Don’t shut me out again.”

“I’m not,” he said, sharper than he meant to. “I just want you to trust me for once.”

She stared at him. Her mouth opened like she was about to say something else, but she didn’t. Instead, she stepped aside. He didn’t wait. He went upstairs two steps at a time, heart hammering for a different reason.

The hallway light glowed faintly, and the carpet muffled his footsteps. He didn’t realise Toby was sitting cross-legged outside his room until he nearly tripped over him.

“Jesus, what are you doing?” Nick whispered, grabbing the doorframe for balance.

“There’s toothpaste on your collar,” Toby said, unbothered. “Also—was that Karl?”

Nick sighed. “Go to bed.”

Toby followed him into the room anyway, like a persistent little shadow. “Is he your boyfriend?”

He wanted to be mad and slam the door, but it wasn't Toby’s fault that his mom wasn't happy. So he let him persist.

“Well?”

Nick flopped onto his bed face-first. “Toby.”

“Is he?” Toby asked again, climbing up beside him.

“Go. To. Bed.” Nick grabbed the nearest pillow and smacked him with it.

Toby just giggled, unfazed. “I like Karl.”

Nick peeked out from under the pillow. “Why?”

“He makes you less grumpy,” Toby said, completely serious. “And he’s fun.”

Nick swallowed. That caught him off guard.

“He is fun, isn’t he?”

“So is he your boyfriend?” Toby repeated, relentlessly.

Nick sat up, shaking his head with amusement. “No. He’s not.”

“Do you want him to be?”

Nick narrowed his eyes. “Oh my God. Who are you and what have you done with my brother?”

Toby giggled again as Nick hit him with the pillow a second time, but the question still hung there. Waiting.

Nick sighed. “Yes. I do. Happy now?”

Toby shrugged like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Then ask him.”

“It’s not that easy, buddy.”

“Why not?”

Nick hesitated. “I need to talk to Dad. First.”

Toby tilted his head. “If you do,” he added, “then Karl can be here all the time and we can play Mario Kart. And you can be happy.”

Nick laughed, soft and surprised. “No more gossip for you. Go to bed.”

“Nooo,” Toby groaned, flopping dramatically backwards on the mattress.

Their mom’s voice floated in from the hallway. “Toby, leave your brother alone. Come on. Bedtime.”

“Fine,” Toby muttered, dragging himself up like he was carrying the weight of the world. He shuffled to the door—but not before giving Nick a look that was far too knowing for someone his age.

Nick rolled his eyes fondly. “Goodnight, you little menace.”

“Night,” Toby called.

But the door didn’t close. Nick looked up.

His mom stood in the doorway again. Arms still folded, but this time her expression had softened into something less certain. Like she hadn’t decided whether to smile or worry.

“You heard that?” Nick asked, already knowing the answer.

“All of it,” she said.

Nick groaned. “Brilliant.”

She stepped inside, leaned against the frame. “You had fun tonight?”

Nick nodded. “Yeah. We did.”

There was a pause.

“You’ve been different lately,” she said after a moment. “In a good way.”

Nick didn’t say anything.

She took a breath. “I’m just worried. I was scared of saying the wrong thing.”

Nick looked up. “You did say the wrong thing.”

“I know.” Her voice cracked a little. “I did.”

She crossed the room and sat beside him, not quite touching.

“I guess I thought I was protecting you,” she said. “Because I didn't before.”

Nick stared at his knees.

“I just want you to be okay, I’m terrified things will go back.” She said. “That’s all. But outside of my worries, it’s really, really nice to see you smiling again.”

Nick looked at her. “It’s not perfect. I’m still figuring things out.”

“I know,” she said gently. “You’re allowed to.”

He hesitated. “I think I need to talk to Dad. Before anything happens.”

Her smile wavered slightly. “Okay. But you know he loves you, right? No matter what.”

Nick studied her face. “Are you really sure about that?”

She didn’t answer. Not really. She reached up and brushed his fringe back, fingers soft and careful.

“I trust you,” she said quietly. “Just promise to look after yourself. Don't let it go back.”

Nick nodded. She kissed the top of his head and left without another word.

A few minutes later, Nick picked up his phone.

Nick:
you have my mom’s seal of approval.

Karl:
finally :)

Nick:
you make me less grumpy apparently. that’s the selling point.

Karl:
i’ll take it
beats “makes me slightly less unbearable”

Nick:
that was probably next on the list
you should’ve heard toby
he’s basically your #1 fan

Karl:
he has excellent taste obviously
did he ask if we’re dating yet?

Nick:
yes. three times. how did you know?

Karl:                                                            because he asked me about it 500 times last time we hung out

Nick:
he suggested we should be.
so he can play mario kart with you whenever he wants.

Karl:
that’s valid.

Nick:
he said i’m grumpy and you’re fun
so together we’re average

Karl:
sounds like a solid foundation to me

Nick:
lol
is that how you’d describe us?

Karl:
no
i’d say you’re smart and kind and weirdly good at hiding how much you care about people
and i am… around for some reason

Nick:
karl.

Karl:
yeah?

Nick:
you’re not just around.

Karl:
yeah. i know.
i just don’t always know what to do with it.

Nick:
same.

Karl:
can i say something without it being a thing?

Nick:
maybe
depends how much of a thing it is

Karl:
i kinda wish i stayed longer tonight
just… not talking. or talking. either

Nick:
i kinda wish that too.

Karl:
ok good.
that’s all.
carry on.

Nick:
night, karl.

Karl:
night, not-boyfriend

Nick saw more typing bubbles appear. Then disappear. Then appear again. And then finally.

Karl:
i think i’m kind of in trouble with you                    the good kind
probably

Chapter Text

Karl sat slouched on the grey sofa, sleeves pulled down over his hands, hoodie strings twisted around his fingers. He hadn’t taken the hoodie off. Too thin underneath. Too exposed.

“Things are good,” he said finally.

She raised her eyebrows slightly. “Good how?”

“I don’t know. Like… I’m working. I’m not behind at school. I’m actually… showing up to things. And I’m with someone. Sort of.”

“Nick?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

His therapist smiled gently. “That sounds like a good thing.”

“It is,” Karl said quickly. Then paused. “That’s kind of the problem.”

She didn’t interrupt.

“I don’t get it. Everything’s technically fine. Better than fine. But I still… I’m still doing the same shit and still skipping meals. Still hiding wrappers or tossing food or just… not eating. Even when I want to.”

Her pen hovered over her notepad. “You said ‘still.’ How long has it been going on again?”

Karl hesitated. “A while. Longer than I wanted to admit.”

“How far back are we talking?”

He rubbed the heel of his palm against his forehead. “I don’t know exactly. A few weeks ago. I think it started when things were still weird with Alex. Not that that’s… not his fault, or anything. I just didn’t notice how bad it got.”

She nodded. “What do you remember about that time?”

“I was working a lot,” Karl said. “Late shifts, closing by myself. It made it easy to skip dinner without anyone noticing. I guess I just slipped back into old habits.”

His therapist was quiet for a moment, then said, “How are things with Alex now?”

Karl leaned back, eyes flicking to the ceiling. “Better. We talked. Things are… moving along, I guess. We’re not the same as before, but we’re still friends. Mostly. I feel bad, though. I hurt him. And he still chose to stay.”

“That says something,” She said.

“I know, but…” Karl bit the inside of his cheek. “I still feel responsible. Like I broke something in him and now he just keeps showing up and smiling through it, and I don’t know how to make it right.”

His therapist's voice was soft. “If it were truly irreparable, do you think he’d still be choosing to stay?”

Karl hesitated. “I guess not. I just… I don’t think I know how to do anything right at the moment. And the only thing I do know how to do is… well. That.”

“Restricting?”

“Yeah,” Karl said quietly. “That.”

He hated saying it out loud. Hated how real it sounded. But also, he was tired. Of hiding. Of pretending it was fine just because no one had caught him yet.

She nodded slowly. “It makes sense that when everything else feels out of your control, especially relationships, you’d lean into the one thing that gives you a sense of stability. Even if it hurts.”

Karl swallowed. “So how do we fix it?”

That came out more scared than he meant it to. He looked down, ashamed.

She didn’t flinch. “We don’t ‘fix’ it. We build something around it. We make the patterns safer, gentler. Less punishing.”

He nodded faintly.

“I can help you structure some soft meal planning, nothing rigid, nothing overwhelming. But enough that you’re not skipping entire days without meaning to. Does that feel okay?”

“Yeah,” Karl said. “I think so.”

Karen smiled. “Would it help to do meals with someone else? Social settings, routine? That takes the pressure off.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Karl said. “I can ask my mom. If it’s not weird.”

Karen looked over at the clock. “Would you like your mom to come in for the second half of this session? You said you’d talked a bit already.”

Karl nodded.

She stood and opened the door. His mom stepped in slowly, clutching her bag, a little unsure.

“You can sit,” Karl said. Not cold, just tired.

She sat. Said nothing.

His therapist filled her in briefly. “We’ve been talking about patterns, and how food is one of the ways Karl manages uncertainty. He’s open to some gentle structure around meals.”

His mom nodded carefully. “What kind of structure?”

“Shared meals,” Karen said. “No pressure. Just small routines.”

Karl looked at her. “I think the company will really help.”

“Okay,” she said quickly. “Of course. I can do that.”

“I don’t want to make it a thing I just… I don't want to be a burden. But I need it. This.” Karl said.

His mom’s face softened. “You’re not a burden. I’m sorry it ever felt like that.”

Karl didn’t reply right away. He just stared at his hands. “None of it is your fault.”

“I know,” she said. “I’m gonna help you. I'm gonna try, anyway.”

“Trying’s enough,” he mumbled.

His therapist passed him a printed sheet, small, doable meal anchors. A few strategies. Breathing exercises. Notes about self-compassion. He took it like it might shatter.

They finished the session without fanfare, and Karl’s mom went back to work, giving him the headspace to decompress. He didn't want the first person he turned to to be Nick, but before he knew it they were texting.

Karl:
did therapy
didn’t lie this time
felt weird

Nick:
weird good or weird bad?

Karl:
good, i think
tiring
but good

Nick:
proud of you
just so you know

Karl:
you’re not allowed to say stuff like that
it’ll make me feel things

Nick:
ok
you were terrible and i hope your hoodie string gets caught in a door

Karl:
thank you. much better.

Nick:
did you talk about the food stuff?

Karl:
yeah
actually said it out loud
she helped
my mom was there too for part of it

Nick:
how did that go?

Karl:
better than i thought
she didn’t hover
just listened
we’re gonna try the whole ‘eating like normal people’ thing
no pressure, just routine

Nick:
sounds like a good plan
you don’t have to do it alone

Karl:
i know
i think that’s the part that scares me

Nick:
then that’s the part i’ll stay for

Karl:
that’s cheating
you’re not supposed to say stuff like that either

Nick:
get used to it

Karl:
rude

Nick:
do you want to come over?

Karl:
only if toby promises not to interrogate me again

Nick:
no promises. he’s making a ranking list of your outfits now

Karl:
you’re kidding?

Nick:
you’re top of the list
but apparently the jumper with the little moons on it was ‘an emotional choice’

Karl:
he’s terrifying. i’m in love.

Nick:
i know

Karl:
see
you’re not supposed to say that either.

Chapter Text

His fingers were still curled around the folded paper from the therapy office, but he hadn’t looked at it since leaving. He didn’t need to. The important part was already done. He’d said it. Out loud. And somehow the world hadn’t cracked open beneath him.

Still, he couldn’t sit in that silence alone. Not tonight. Not after the invite. So he walked. Straight to Nick’s.

By the time he got there, his hands were cold. Nick opened the door in socks and a hoodie Karl hadn’t seen before, navy blue, with the sleeves pushed up. His hair was slightly messy, like he’d fallen asleep on the sofa and just got up. He looked good.

Karl stared at him for a second too long.

“Hey,” Nick said, like it was nothing.

“Hey,” Karl said back, playing off the staring.

“Is that Karl?” Said a familiar voice from the living room.

Toby leaned over the back of the sofa, clutching a notebook looking far too smug.

Karl smiled faintly. “Should I be worried?”

Nick stepped aside to let him in. “He’s been ranking your outfits for the last half hour.”

Toby held up a notebook. “You were almost dethroned by your Tuesday jumper. The brown one? But the moon one still wins.”

Karl raised an eyebrow. “An emotional choice?”

“Exactly,” Toby said, nodding like a little professor. “It looked like you needed a hug.”

Karl laughed despite himself. “You’re terrifying.”

“He’s obsessed with you,” Nick muttered under his breath, grabbing a blanket from the back of the sofa.

“I’m right here,” Toby said dramatically, then yawned mid-sentence. He blinked sleepily.

“Did he stay up this late just to see me?” Karl smiled, and Nick just nodded before Toby could speak.

“We both did actually! We didn't want to miss you!” He admitted, flopping onto the sofa, eyes heavy and dark. Karl glanced over at Nick who was quickly changing the subject.

Nick tossed him the blanket. “You can fall asleep here if you want. I'll take you up in a bit.”

Toby didn’t argue. He curled up instantly, eyes already drooping. Within five minutes, he was out.

Karl sat down on the floor, his back against the side of the sofa, legs stretched toward the coffee table. Nick sat beside him, knees drawn up, their shoulders barely brushing.

They were quiet for a while. Just the sound of Toby’s breathing and the occasional creak of the house settling.

Then Nick spoke. “How was it today?”

Karl glanced at him. “I think it went okay.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

Karl thought for a moment. “Can I? Without it being weird? Like before?”

Nick nodded softly. “Of course you can.”

“I just didn’t want to be by myself. I didn't want you to be the first person I went to. Because that's what I used to do and look what happened then.” Karl mumbled, eyes glued to the floor.

“I don't think it will ever get like that again. You don’t have to talk, but whatever you want to say stays between me and you. Okay?” Nick placed his hand on top of Karl’s for a moment, then took it away.

Karl let out a deep breath. “I didn’t lie today. Told her everything.”

Nick waited.

Karl kept his eyes on the floor. “It’s been going on longer than I wanted to admit. Started back when things were still… complicated with Alex I think. I was working late too. No one asked if I ate. Made it easier to skip.”

Nick didn’t interrupt. Just stayed beside him, silent and steady.

“She asked how things are with him,” Karl continued. “I said we’re okay. We talked. Things are moving along. But I still feel awful. Like I broke something in him.”

“You didn’t,” Nick said softly.

“I don’t know. He’s still around. That’s what my therapist said, if I’d really messed it up, would he still be here?”

Nick shrugged. “Probably not.”

Karl turned his head slightly. “You think that’s enough? Someone still showing up?”

“I think it means something,” Nick said. “Maybe not everything. But yeah.”

Karl nodded slowly. “I just… I don’t think I know how to do anything right. Except for… that. The food thing. It’s the only thing that feels consistent.”

Nick reached out, his fingers brushing Karl’s hand, tentative. “But you want to change it.”

Karl looked at him, really looked, and nodded. “I asked her how we fix it,” he said. “We’re gonna try small things. Meal anchors. Routines. Stuff that makes it feel less like punishment.”

Nick gave his hand a small squeeze.

“My mom came in for the second half,” Karl added. “Didn’t talk much. Just… listened. I think she was just scared.”

“I’m glad she went though,” Nick said. “That’s a big deal.”

“It is,” Karl admitted. “Still feels weird though. Like I said all this stuff out loud and now I can’t take it back. I have to deal with it. But I don't want to because it fucking sucks.”

“You don’t need to take it back. And it does suck. It’s the worst but… you’re doing good. You've done the right thing.”

They sat like that for a long time, shoulders touching, fingers linked gently between them. After a while, Nick leaned his head against Karl’s shoulder.

“Stay tonight,” he murmured.

Karl tilted his head just slightly to lean back onto him. “Toby’ll put me through another fashion critique.”

“He fell asleep ranking your hoodies. You’re safe till morning.”

“Will it be okay with your mom?”

Nick nodded softly and Karl smiled to himself, eyes drifting shut. For the first time in weeks, maybe months, he didn’t feel like he was stepping backwards.

Chapter Text

Nick’s bedroom was small and warm, the curtains drawn tight against the night. A low hum from the window fan filled the room, steady and soft. The door was closed, muffling the rest of the world into nothing. Everything in here felt suspended like time had thinned to just them.

They sat side by side on the floor, backs resting against the bed frame, wrapped in the softest blanket they could find. The low amber glow of the bedside lamp pooled in the corners, flickering against the wall like it was trying not to intrude.

“I’m so glad he's finally asleep,” Nick whispered, nudging Karl with a grin. “After protesting for what felt like forever.”

Karl chuckled. “He’s ridiculous.”

Nick laughed under his breath, shaking his head. “Remember the last sleepover we had here?”

Karl smiled faintly at the memory. “Barely. I was a total mess.”

“Me too,” Nick shot back, nudging him again, grinning.

Karl rolled his eyes. “That wasn't even that long ago if you really think about it.” He let the moment settle, then added, quieter, “I feel like a completely different person.”

Nick’s grin faded into something softer. “You should. Look at you now.”

Karl looked at him, really looked. “You’re different too. Happier.”

“So are you.”

A creak sounded from downstairs, quiet, but enough to make them both still. Nick’s fingers curled slightly around Karl’s like the sound would scare him away.

“Did you hear that?” Karl whispered.

Nick nodded, his gaze on the door. “I think my parents are back. From the airport.”

They both stilled, listening.

Muffled footsteps moved across the floorboards downstairs. Low and familiar voices filtered up through the cracks in the old house, but the door stayed closed—thick and quiet.

“It’s like the world stopped outside that door,” Karl murmured.

Nick exhaled slowly, the smallest smile tugging at the edge of his mouth. “Yeah. Like everything in here’s a secret.”

Their eyes met again, and suddenly the room felt even smaller. Even quieter. The kind of quiet where anything you say feels like it matters.

Nick shifted slightly, his voice barely above a breath. “I’m nervous.”

Karl didn’t move. “About what?”

“Tomorrow.” Nick stared down at their hands. “I have to talk to my dad. About me. About you.”

Karl’s voice was gentle. “Think he doesn’t know?”

“I don’t know what he knows. And I don’t know what to say. I don’t even know what this is half the time.”

Karl’s hand tightened around his. “That’s okay. You don’t have to figure it all out tonight. You don't even have to tell him if you don't want to, there's no pressure.”

“I know. I want to tell him.”

“Really?”

Nick nodded, eyes distant. “It’s just… this is all new. I’ve never had to think about what it means to be with a guy. Or tell people about it. Especially not him.”

There was a pause.

“I don’t know what this is doing to me. Or what you’re doing to me,” Nick said, voice low. “But I’m thinking about stuff I never thought I’d have to.”

Karl smiled, soft and crooked. “That makes two of us.”

Their faces were close now breaths brushing and knees touching. There was a beat of something electric between them. Something fragile and real.

Almost.

But then a voice, muffled and sleepy, called from down the hall.

“Mom? Is that you?”

They both jumped, then broke into quiet laughter. Nick stood up and peeked out the door. The hallway was dark. He shut it gently and leaned against it, smiling like the moment hadn’t disappeared, just softened.

Karl leaned back against the bed, head tilted to one side as Nick crossed the room again.

He sat beside Karl, close this time, knees touching. Nick let his eyes close for a second. “Sorry. That ruined the moment.”

Karl shook his head, voice just a whisper. “It’s fine.”

Nick leaned his head on Karl’s shoulder. The silence returned, warm and weightless.

“We’re okay,” Karl whispered.

Nick didn’t lift his head, just nodded. “Yeah. We really are.”

—

The sun was barely up when Nick’s alarm buzzed. He turned it off quickly, careful not to wake Toby across the hall. The house was still and quiet, full of sleep and soft shadows.

Karl was already sitting up when Nick turned, hair flattened slightly on one side. He blinked at Nick, bleary-eyed.

“You’re a morning person now?” Nick teased, rubbing his eyes.

Karl made a face. “No. I just never fell fully asleep.”

Nick grinned. “You looked asleep when you stole half the blanket.”

“I was preserving body heat. For survival.”

They got ready in silence, easy and calm. Nick offered Karl one of his hoodies, which surprisingly he took. He tugged his own hoodie over his head, then grabbed his bag. Karl stood behind him, zipping up his jacket, quiet but comfortable.

They slipped out before anyone else in the house stirred. The air outside was cool and smelled like early dew, the sky still soft and grey. They walked side by side, not rushing, not speaking much. Just moving forward together.

Nick glanced over once, watching the way Karl’s fingers brushed the strap of his bag, like he was fidgeting without noticing. He didn’t say anything, just smiled to himself. He wanted to ask him to stop for breakfast but he didn't want to push, so he just watched. Like he couldn't believe Karl existed.

At the school gates, their friends were already gathering.

George was leaning dramatically against the fence like he’d barely survived the morning. Ellie had a cereal bar in one hand and was showing Alex something on her phone.

“Hey!” Ellie waved. “You two look suspiciously awake. Gross.”

George groaned. “I swear, I’ve never hated the education system more than I do today. We’re getting our test scores back.”

“English was so brutal,” Alex said, half to Karl, half to no one. “I definitely failed that essay.”

Karl raised his eyebrows. “If you think you failed then I have no hope. You're the smartest person I know.” Alex smiled back at Karl, it seemed more genuine than the last time.

“Failed?” George said. “I wrote one paragraph and then panicked and talked about metaphors for three pages.”

Ellie snorted. “You described Juliet as a ‘walking red flag.’”

“She was!”

Nick laughed. “Depending on the results today, we can do a study thing at my house if you guys want?”

Everyone blinked at him.

“You’re willingly inviting us to your house?” George asked suspiciously.

Nick shrugged. “Sure. My mom won’t care. She’ll probably make snacks.”

Ellie lit up. “Oh my God, yes. I need academic support and baked goods.”

Karl gave Nick a small look, proud, maybe, and Nick bumped their arms lightly together in return.

“Plus,” Nick added dryly, “someone needs to stop George from turning every analysis into a conspiracy theory.”

“She faked her death, Nick. Think about it.”

Everyone just rolled their eyes.

Nick glanced around at the familiar faces, the casual bickering, the warmth he’d never thought he’d find again, not here. Everything felt good. Light. Easy. And for the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel like he was on the outside of it. He felt right in the middle of it.

Chapter Text

Nick pushed the front door open, laughter from behind him spilling into the hallway. Karl was mid-sentence, George was talking about something completely different, and Toby had immediately taken one of Karl’s shoes hostage.

“Upstairs, all of you,” Nick said, trying not to grin. “I’ll be up in a bit.”

“Does that include me?” Karl asked with a smirk.

Nick rolled his eyes. “Especially you.”

The others clambered up the stairs, still bickering and laughing, while Nick moved into the living room, only to freeze in place.

His dad was there, sorting through the post on the coffee table like he belonged.

“Hey, Dad.”

“Hey kiddo,” his dad said, standing up with a smile. “You look better.”

Nick shrugged off his hoodie, still trying to process the suddenness of it. “Thanks. You too.”

“It’s a bit different being back in the cabin on my own,” his dad added, more casually.

That made something ache faintly in Nick’s chest. “Yeah. I think about it a lot. Being there.”

His dad looked over at him, thoughtful. “I’m heading back in a few weeks. If you and Toby want to come for a few days…”

Nick’s face lit up. “That’d be great.”

They both stood in the silence a moment longer.

“How are you doing, really?” his dad asked.

Nick hesitated. “Better. I think. Things are getting there… slowly. Staying with you helped. More than you know.”

His dad smiled. “Having you there helped me too, you know? And I’m sorry I couldn’t stay long when you got back. You know how it is.”

“It feels like you’re away a lot more now.”

“I know.” His expression softened. “And I don’t want to keep moving us around anymore. I saw what it was doing to you. It wasn’t fair. So, it’ll be like this for a while. Stable.”

Nick nodded, quietly grateful.

“This place feels more like home than anywhere else,” his dad added. “I know you feel that. Your mom does too. She has friends. You have friends. Toby is thriving… It’s nice. I like it here.”

“Me too,” Nick said, smiling.

A loud thud echoed from upstairs, followed by laughter.

Nick cringed. “I’ll tell them to keep it down.”

His dad chuckled. Then, without warning he spoke. “Which one is Karl?”

Nick froze. “Oh God.”

His dad raised an eyebrow. “What? I’m just curious.”

Nick rubbed the back of his neck, unsure of how to describe him without being weird. “He’s the small one.”

His dad smiled. “Does he make you happy?”

Nick didn’t even pause. “Very.”

“Good,” his dad said simply. “That’s all you need.”

Nick stared at him for a second. “What if I mess it up?”

“You will,” his dad said, matter-of-fact. “Eventually. Everyone does. But if he’s worth it, and you are to him, then you figure it out. That’s what being with someone is.”

Nick’s chest tightened. But in a good way.

Then his dad added, almost too casually, “You know I don’t care that he’s a guy, right? That doesn’t matter. What matters is how he makes you feel. And if he’s part of what keeps you going, then… yeah. You don’t need my permission. But you’ve got it.”

Nick’s throat burned. “Thanks,” he said, voice small.

His dad grinned. “This got deep very quickly.”

Nick snorted. “Yeah, no kidding.”

Another crash upstairs.

“I'd better go stop them from breaking the house.”

His dad nodded. “Go and be grumpy. We’re having Chinese tonight if he wants to stay for dinner.”

“I’ll ask him.” Nick rolled his eyes and turned for the stairs, but couldn’t quite stop the smile tugging at his mouth.

He climbed the stairs two at a time, the corners of his mouth still twitching upward. Something in his chest felt different, lighter, maybe. He didn’t know what it was, only that it felt good.

The second he pushed open the bedroom door, chaos greeted him.

“You guys need to shut up,” Nick said flatly, though he was already smiling. “Seriously.”

Karl, sprawled on the floor like a cat in the sun, looked up innocently. “We’re not doing anything.”

Nick narrowed his eyes and froze when he noticed a suspiciously small lump hidden under a pile of pillows on the bed.

“Toby,” Nick warned. “You do not belong in here.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Karl said with a perfectly straight face. “I don’t see anybody.”

“Me either,” Ellie added, swinging her legs from the desk chair like she was on a jury panel. There was a muffled giggle. Then, slowly, Toby poked his head out from behind the pillow fortress, cheeks flushed with mischief.

“Oh, he’s so cute,” Ellie cooed, grabbing her phone like she might take a picture.

“I don’t like kids,” George announced, leaning against the wall with mock disgust.

“I don’t like you. You talk weird,” Toby shot back without missing a beat.

Karl’s eyes went wide with delight. “Okay, that was brilliant.” He high-fived Toby without hesitation.

“You can stay as long as you want!” Alex laughed from his place on the floor, amusement lighting his features. He caught Nick staring for just a moment, and they shared a small smile.

Nick stood inside the doorway, taking it all in, his friends, the laughter, the easy rhythm of everyone finding their place again, and for a moment, he didn’t say anything. He was too busy watching Karl, who was already watching him.

Something quiet passed between them too. A glance. Something softer than a smile, deeper than words.

Nick cleared his throat, suddenly very aware of the warmth blooming across his face. He crossed the room and dropped down next to Karl, very close, legs brushing.

Toby had wedged himself between Ellie and the pillows, giggling uncontrollably every time she fake-swooned over dramatic stories from school.

“You’re so dramatic,” Toby accused, mid-laugh.

“It’s called flair, sweetie,” Ellie replied, flipping her hair.

Karl leaned toward Nick, voice low enough that only he could hear. “He fits in, doesn’t he?”

Nick nodded. “More than I do.”

Karl nudged his knee. “That’s not true.”

They might’ve said more, but then Toby was already on it. “Did you ask Dad if you could—?”

Nick clapped a hand over Toby’s mouth mid-sentence.

“Nope. You’re not airing my business here.”

Toby wiggled under his palm, laughing harder now.

“You’ve got me in so much hot water lately, mister,” Nick muttered. “No more leaks.”

Toby peeled his hand away. “I’m basically a journalist. You can’t silence me.”

Karl and Ellie both snorted. George tossed a pillow at Toby’s head, which he caught expertly with a triumphant yell.

Nick sat back, shoulders relaxed, watching it all unfold. His chest ached, just a little, but in the best way.

Chapter Text

The sun was hot enough to make his hoodie feel like a poor choice, but there wasn't much he could do. But Nick had smiled at him when he showed up wearing it, not that Karl was keeping score or anything, so the choice can't have been that poor. Right?

They were stretched out on the grass beneath a half-shaded tree in the park. Not much cover, but Karl had pointed it out earlier with a straight face and declared it ‘superior lighting.’

Nick had rolled his eyes at him. “You’re impossible.”

“You’ll thank me when your skin doesn’t look jaundiced in group photos,” Karl replied.

They were waiting for the others to join them. Karl didn’t mind being alone with Nick. In fact, he loved it. The opportunity didn't present itself nearly enough. But something was off.

Nick was lying flat on his back, arms stretched, eyes on the branches above like he was a million miles away. He wasn’t talking much. He was doing that thing with his mouth too, the thing where he pressed his lips together like he was holding something in. Nervous energy rolled off him in waves and Karl wasn't sure what to think.

Karl glanced at him, more curious than annoyed. “Are you even listening to me?”

Nick’s response was slow, almost distracted. “Can we hang out?”

Karl blinked. “We are hanging out, moron.”

Nick didn’t laugh. He didn’t even look at him. His voice was quieter this time. “No. Like… a different kind of hangout.”

Karl stilled. For a moment, he thought he’d misheard. Or misunderstood. But then he saw it, the flush creeping up Nick’s neck, the rigid way his fingers dug into the grass beside him.

Karl’s heart thumped hard once, then flipped upside down like a trapdoor had opened under it.

“A different kind,” he echoed dumbly. “You mean like… a date?”

Nick nodded, still not meeting his eyes. “Forget it. That was stupid.”

Karl sat up. It took effort not to grin immediately. Because this? This was not stupid. This was exactly the kind of moment Karl had been waiting for, and hadn’t known if he was allowed to ask for.

He’d thought about it. More than once. Asking Nick out properly. But Nick always seemed like he was working through something just beneath the surface — like if Karl pushed too hard, the whole thing might crack.

And yet here he was.

Karl tilted his head and looked at him, really looked at him.

The way Nick’s hair curled slightly from the heat. The fading sunburn still soft across his cheeks. The sharp collarbone was barely visible beneath his shirt. The way his hands trembled, just a little, like asking had cost him something.

Karl wanted nothing more than to kiss him.

But instead, he said with the straightest face he could manage, “Wow. A shy little date proposal. You really know how to sweep a guy off his feet.”

Nick groaned and shoved his shoulder. “You’re the worst.”

“But you still want to go on a date with me, so clearly I’m doing something right.”

Nick looked over at him finally, annoyed and embarrassed and deeply, stupidly endearing. Karl’s teasing softened. His voice dropped with it.

“I’d love to.”

The words settled between them, warm and honest.

Nick blinked. “Really?”

Karl leaned back on his elbows, smiling now. “I’ve kind of been waiting to ask. But you just beat me to it.”

The air around them felt different after that, quieter, but not uncomfortable. Like something had clicked into place.

Karl turned his face toward the sky, eyes squinting at the light through the leaves. He felt something bloom in his chest, slow and certain.

He reached out without looking and brushed his fingers against Nick’s. And Nick didn’t pull away. And Karl couldn’t stop smiling.

Karl still hadn’t stopped smiling by the time the others returned.

Nick was red-faced but trying to play it cool, had barely moved except to subtly shift a little closer. Their fingers brushed now and then, not holding hands, not quite, but Karl felt every point of contact like it was underlined.

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to.

Ellie returned first, balancing two plastic iced coffees in one hand and swinging a paper bag like a trophy. “Okay, tell me this doesn’t look like a date,” she declared, gesturing to the pair.

Karl snorted. “Not everything’s a date, Ellie.”

“Says the guy looking at Nick like he just painted the sky,” she muttered, flopping down next to them. Nick went crimson.

Alex arrived seconds later, sunglasses on despite the shade, and raised a single eyebrow at Karl like he already knew. Karl gave a tiny shrug. Alex didn’t say anything, just offered him his drink with a quiet smile.

They hadn’t talked much about it since the arcade. But sometimes, like now, that smile said everything.

“George fell out of a tree,” Alex said, as if that explained anything.

“Oh my God,” Nick said. “Is he okay?”

“He’s fine,” Alex said. “The tree’s not.”

George arrived last, covered in grass stains and outrage. “That tree was poorly designed.”

“You say that like it’s not your fault,” Ellie said, taking a sip of her drink.

George ignored her, sitting down in a huff. “Anyway, what’d I miss?”

“A lot,” Ellie said, her voice suddenly changing tone. “Because I have an announcement.”

Everyone turned to her, instantly wary.

Ellie straightened up, clearly relishing the attention. “I’m talking to someone. Online.”

Alex nearly choked on his coffee.

George groaned. “Not this again.”

“No, listen,” Ellie said, waving a hand. “He’s cute. He sent a picture holding up today’s newspaper.”

“Did you request that?” Nick asked, horrified.

“Obviously,” she said. “I’m not stupid.”

Karl raised an eyebrow. “And this proves…?”

“That he’s real!” Ellie cried. “No blurry filters, no weird cropping, no cartoon avatars. A real human boy. Possibly. Jury’s still out.”

“You have the worst taste,” George muttered.

“Say that again and I’ll make you taste dirt.”

Karl laughed quietly. Across from him, Alex was watching the chaos with amused detachment. Then their eyes met, and for a moment, everything softened again.

Alex leaned in just a little. “You okay?”

Karl nodded. “Yeah. I think I am.”

Alex looked at him for a beat longer, then nodded too. “Good.”

He didn’t say more. He didn’t need to.

Nick bumped Karl’s knee gently, drawing him back in. “You wanna hang out tomorrow then?”

Karl looked at him, grinning. “We are hanging out, moron.”

Nick gave him a look. “You know what I mean.”

Karl shrugged. “Sure. As long as we’re not climbing trees.”

“God forbid,” George muttered.

Ellie was still deep into a full-blown analysis of her maybe-boyfriend’s Instagram captions.

Karl leaned back on his elbows again, letting the sounds of his friends wash over him, messy, loud, wonderful.

He glanced at Nick, who met his eyes and smiled, just a little.

Chapter Text

The office was warm in a way that had nothing to do with the radiator. Soft lighting. A bowl of overripe fruit was on the table. The faint sound of rain tapping on the windows. Nick sat cross-legged on the couch, his hoodie sleeves pushed up, fingers fidgeting with a loose thread.

Melissa waited like she always did. With that same patient stillness, like she’d never once needed to check a clock.

“I feel like I’m not waiting anymore,” Nick said after a while. “Not waiting to break. Not waiting for him to fix me. Not waiting for the next thing to go wrong.”

She nodded gently. “That’s a big change.”

Nick looked down at his hands. “I used to think… healing meant getting rid of the bad stuff. But maybe it just means learning to live with it. Letting it exist without letting it take over.”

Melissa smiled. “That sounds a lot like acceptance.”

“I still get scared sometimes,” he admitted. “But it’s not the same kind of scared. It’s… manageable. Like I know I can handle it now.”

He didn’t say Karl’s name for most of the session. But it sat there between them anyway, warm and familiar.

Eventually, she asked, “How are things with Karl?”

Nick hesitated, a quiet smile tugging at his mouth. “Better. We’re not rushing. It’s… gentle.”

“You trust it?”

“I think I do.” His voice softened. “I think I trust myself more, too.”

Melissa didn’t push. Just let the silence settle for a bit.

Nick leaned back into the cushions. “We’re going on a date this weekend.”

“That sounds exciting.”

“It is,” he said. “I’m excited.”

He traced the seam of a cushion with his thumb. “I used to think we’d only ever exist in extremes, all or nothing, chaos or silence. But now I think maybe we can have something in between. Something steady.”

“You deserve steady,” Melissa said.

Nick blinked hard, then smiled. “I think so too.”

They wrapped up a few minutes later. He pulled his hoodie on properly, zipped up his coat, and stepped back out into the late afternoon. The rain had softened to a drizzle, the sky dull but not cold.

His phone buzzed in his pocket.

Karl:
Meet you at 8?

Nick stared at it, heart lifting, not in that sick, terrified way it used to. Just quiet. Sure.

He typed back: Wouldn’t miss it.

He paused. Then added:

Even if you make me lose at every game.

Karl’s reply was instant. That’s the spirit.

Nick slipped his phone back into his pocket and started walking.

For once, he wasn’t rushing anywhere. He wasn’t running.

He was heading somewhere good.

—

Karl stared at his closet like it had personally offended him.

There were only so many ways a hoodie and a pair of jeans could go, but tonight felt like it needed something slightly… more.

He grabbed a shirt that didn’t have paint on it, sniffed it just to be sure, then threw it on the bed next to his jacket. His room was a mess, not in the catastrophic way it used to be when things were bad, but a lived-in kind of clutter. Books. Chargers. A mug he definitely should’ve taken downstairs two days ago.

He sat on the edge of the bed, running both hands through his hair.

His heart had been a steady hum all afternoon. Not panic. Not dread. Just… a buzzing nervousness. The kind he used to get before auditions, back when he still did theatre. When it mattered.

Tonight mattered.

He didn’t want to mess it up. He didn’t want to fall back into old habits, blur the lines like he always used to. He didn’t want to rush this or read too much into every glance. He just wanted things to be okay. And he wanted to be himself. The new kind of self, the one who didn’t need to perform for affection.

His phone buzzed on the desk. Nick’s name.
Wouldn’t miss it. Even if you make me lose at every game.

Karl grinned before he could stop it. He tapped out a quick reply: That’s the spirit.

Then he sat back and let himself breathe for a second.

He thought about everything that had led here, the window, the letter, therapy, the job, the nearly-moments and the not-yet’s. There had been so much that almost broke them. But somehow, it hadn’t. Somehow, they’d ended up back here.

A knock came at the door.

“Karl?” his mom called. “We’re ordering dinner, do you want anything before you go?”

“I’m good!” he called back. He'd forgotten that his mom was going next door. She called it a ‘catch-up’ but he knew she'd be gossiping with Nick’s mom about tonight.

“You nervous?”

He laughed under his breath. “No.”

She snorted. “Liar.”

Karl shook his head and stood, finally grabbing the shirt and pulling it on. It fit a little differently now, slightly snug where it used to hang loose. He caught his reflection in the mirror, then turned away before he could second-guess himself.

This wasn’t about being perfect. It was about showing up.

He grabbed his jacket, keys, and wallet, paused by the door, and then, quietly, out loud to himself: Don’t overthink it.

And he didn’t. He just went.

Chapter Text

Karl was already waiting outside the arcade when Nick arrived, hands shoved in his pockets, bouncing slightly on his heels. The flashing lights from inside reflected on the glass doors, casting streaks of neon pink and green across his face.

“You’re early,” Nick said, coming to a stop beside him.

Karl grinned. “You’re late.”

Nick checked his phone. “I’m two minutes early, actually.”

Karl held up both hands in mock surrender. “Wow. You’re really bringing that hot barista's punctuality into the mix. I’m swooning already.”

Nick rolled his eyes, but he smiled. “Don’t make me regret this.”

“You won’t,” Karl said, quieter this time. “Promise.”

They headed inside. It was loud. Children screamed in the background. Someone was yelling about a claw machine. A game blared 8-bit music like it was still 2005.

Nick grinned. “This is… extremely romantic.”

“I told you,” Karl said, nudging his arm. “Only the best for you.”

Their phones buzzed at almost the same time.

George: Don’t lose to him at Mario Kart or I’ll disown you.

Ellie: Have fun but NOT too much fun.

Nick showed Karl his screen. “We’re being supervised.”

Karl laughed and held up his own phone.

Alex: Have fun tonight :)

He didn’t say anything, but Nick glanced sideways at the expression on his face, unreadable for a beat, then softened into something gentler.

Nick offered, carefully. “That from Alex?”

Karl nodded. “Yeah. Just… wishing me luck, I think.”

“You nervous?”

Karl shrugged. “A little.”

Nick smiled, bumping his shoulder. “Same.”

They got tokens from a machine that ate and spat out change. The first twenty minutes were weird. A carnival game, basketball hoops, some ancient rhythm game that neither of them could quite figure out but Karl still won. They shouted over the noise, laughed too loud, trash-talked with increasing intensity.

They’d been there for nearly an hour, and Nick had lost every single game.

“Remind me again why I agreed to this?” he asked, watching his air hockey puck ricochet uselessly off the edge as Karl scored yet again.

Karl leaned over the table with a smug grin. “Because you like me too much to say no?”

Nick rolled his eyes and tossed the paddle onto the table. “You’re unbearable.”

“Correct.” Karl straightened, already walking away. “Now, what else can I beat you at?”

Nick followed, mock-sulking. “You’re a nerd. A full-blown, vintage-game-owning, combo-counting nerd.”

“Thank you,” Karl replied, utterly unfazed. “And you are tragically bad at basketball.”

Nick shoved his shoulder lightly. “It was rigged.”

They wandered deeper into the back of the arcade where the lights dimmed a little. And that’s when Nick saw it, that game. The one he used to dominate when he was younger. Reflex-based. No strategy. Just speed and hoping for the best.

He stopped in his tracks, eyes locked on the blinking machine. “This one,” he said, suddenly serious.

Karl turned, then laughed. “Whack-A-Mole? You’re joking.”

“I’m not.” Nick cracked his knuckles dramatically. “If I win this, you owe me a second date.”

Karl raised a brow, amusement flickering behind his eyes. “As if you’d win.”

“You also have to admit you suck.”

“Bold of you—”

“And,” Nick cut in, “that I’m the best at everything ever.”

Karl looked at him, amused, sceptical, and just a little charmed. “Let me remind you, sir, that you have lost every single game this evening. Don’t get cocky.”

“Oh, I won’t.” Nick stepped up to the machine, inserting a coin. The mallet was already in his hand like a weapon.

Karl leaned against the side of the cabinet, arms crossed. “Alright, champ. And if I win?”

Nick paused. Karl tilted his head. “What’s my prize?”

There was a beat, a shift in the air, like the machines around them had dimmed slightly.

“Whatever you want,” Nick said, quieter now. Karl’s smirk faded, eyes meeting his. The moment stretched, just long enough to make both of them feel it.

Then the game lit up and the first mole popped up.

Nick’s hand shot out like lightning.

Karl watched in disbelief as Nick absolutely obliterated the game. Each mole, each flash of light, he hit every single one. The final score dinged. Karl stared at the number.

Nick turned around, breathless and grinning, holding the mallet like a trophy. “So. Second date?”

Karl’s jaw dropped. “How— That’s not even fair.”

“Say it,” Nick said smugly. “Say you suck.”

Karl rubbed a hand over his face. “I… may suck.”

Nick stepped closer. “And?”

Karl squinted at him. “You’re the best at everything ever?”

“Louder.”

“I’m not saying it louder in a public place.”

Nick snorted, bumping their shoulders. “Coward.”

Karl laughed, really laughed for what felt like the first time in forever. “You’re so annoying.”

“You love it.”

They lingered a second too long in each other’s space. The sounds of the arcade faded just a bit.

“Second date,” Karl said, voice soft.

Nick looked up at him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Karl nodded. “I owe you that. And maybe a rematch.”

“Please. You’ll lose again.”

Karl smirked. “Yeah, yeah enjoy it while you can.”

Nick’s grin softened. “I will.”

They passed a claw machine on the way out. “Want another bear to cheer you up?”
Karl grinned.

The teasing didn’t stop the whole way home. But neither did the smiles.

Chapter Text

They got back to Nick’s a little before ten, both humming with leftover energy from their first date. Karl still hadn’t let go of the giant bear. He’d reminded Nick several times that they needed to name this one, the last one was still at Karl’s, nameless.

The house was warm. Lights on. Laughter floated in from the kitchen, where Nick’s mom and Karl’s mom were finishing off mugs of tea and what sounded like the end of a second bottle of wine.

“Well?” Nick’s mom asked, raising her eyebrows as they came through the door.

Karl lifted the bear above his head like a prize. “Victory.”

“Oh, it was a competition?” Karl’s mom asked.

“I lost everything except my dignity,” Nick said. “Which was already questionable.”

The moms laughed.

“You boys want to hang out upstairs?” Nick’s mom asked, already reaching for the classic line. “Door stays open.”

Nick groaned. “Stop.”

On the landing, Karl paused and poked his head into the slightly open door across the hall. Toby looked up from a comic book, clearly caught off guard.

“Hey, you wanna help us name a bear?” Karl asked, holding it up.

Toby squinted. “You bought a bear?”

“Won it, actually.”

“I won it actually,” Nick added. “Because I’m the best at everything.”

Karl rolled his eyes. Toby considered it, then hopped up. “Fine. But I’m naming him something cool.”

They sprawled across Nick’s bed, tossing out the worst possible names imaginable while play-fighting and arguing over who was better. Toby and Karl teamed up against Nick almost immediately.

“See, this is what happens when I try to do something nice,” Nick complained after being thwacked in the face with a pillow.

“You’re never nice,” Karl said, tossing another. Nick was laughing too hard to argue.

It felt easy. Good. Like the kind of night he thought he’d forgotten how to have. Eventually, Nick’s mom poked her head in, arms crossed.

“Alright, Toby. Bed.”

“Five more minutes?”

Nick gave him a half-smile. “C’mon, kid. I’ll tuck you in.”

Toby sighed dramatically but still obliged. Nick hugged him before he shuffled out, something in him tightening and softening at once. The way it used to be. Maybe even better now.

Nick returned shortly after, flopping onto the bed next to Karl. Karl threw the bear between them.

Nick tilted his head. “He looks kinda sad, doesn’t he?”

Karl poked its nose. “He’s been kidnapped. Obviously, he’s sad.”

”He’s cute though.” Nick wasn’t looking at the bear. He was looking at Karl, alive in a way he hadn’t seen him for months, legs stretched out, clothes rumpled, his hair a mess from the wind, his smile softer than usual.

“Where’s our second date gonna be?” Karl asked nonchalantly, keeping his eyes glued to the ceiling.

Nick shrugged. “I’m still thinking. You need humbling. Badly. You need to suffer like I did today.”

Karl raised his eyebrows with a smirk. “Why would you wish that upon an innocent civilian?”

“Innocent?” Nick snorted. “Remember when you met my mom and invited her daughter, knowing full well I’m not?”

Karl flushed. “Okay—”

“Remember when you threw a gum wrapper at me and got me detention on my first day?”

Karl laughed, biting back a smile. “That was-.”

“Remember when you—”

“Alright, alright, I get it! I’ll prepare to be humbled.”

Nick hit him with the bear before standing up and sitting it on his desk chair. Then he walked to the window, pulled at the handle.

Still locked. “Yep,” he said, smirking. “Definitely locked.”

Karl turned his head. “Why?”

Nick didn’t answer. He didn't want Karl bolting again. He just crossed the room, sank onto the bed beside him, and kissed him. No hesitation. No second-guessing.

Just because.

Karl barely had time to breathe before he started kissing him back. The whole world was irrelevant as his hands tangled in his hair.

All the built-up tension that had been built up since the moment they met melted away with each second. Karl slowly moved his hands down to Nick’s waist, fingertips gently brushing his torso on the way down.

Again. And again. And again. Each time more desperate than the last. 

Outside the room, footsteps padded up the stairs. Nick’s mom knocked lightly on the frame but didn’t wait before peeking her head in.

“Boys, do you-”

His mom’s voice froze.

They broke apart so fast that they bumped heads.

“I knocked,” she said from the hallway, holding her hands up. “I swear I knocked.”

Karl was already flushed, but now he looked like he might evaporate.

Nick sat up straight. “It’s fine. We were just—”

“I see what you were just.”

Nick sighed and fell back on the bed, dragging a pillow over his face. “What do you want?”

“It doesn't matter… um… I’ll ask you later,” his mom said. “Try not to traumatise the bear.”

The door closed completely. Footsteps retreated.

The boys sat in silence.

Karl glanced over.

Nick still had the pillow over his face. “We’re never living this down.”

Karl smiled, then lay back too. “Worth it though.”

Chapter Text

It had only taken a month or so of relentless pestering for the two to finally be allowed somewhere on their own, and here they were. Finally.

The cabin hadn’t changed. Tucked between tall pines, the beach was as beautiful as ever. The porch creaked the same way under their shoes.

Nick stepped out of the car, hoodie sleeves pushed over his hands. The wind caught his hair, and he closed his eyes just long enough to let the quiet settle into him.

Karl was already by the porch, backpack over one shoulder, eyes scanning the roof like he might be inspecting the place.

“You always do that?” Nick asked, amused.

Karl shrugged. “Can’t trust places with too much character.”

Nick rolled his eyes. “You’re such a tourist.”

Karl grinned and waited for him at the top step.

Inside, it was dustier than he remembered. The old armchair his dad refused to throw away was still there, along with the shelf of books no one read but couldn’t seem to part with. The coffee table had new watermarks, but the same uneven legs.

Nick pulled the curtain back. The sea was loud, but in a good way.

“You okay?” Karl asked gently.

Nick nodded. “Yeah. It’s just been a while.”

They unpacked slowly. Karl made a big show of choosing the bed furthest from the creakiest floorboard while Nick rolled his eyes. They fought over who got the top bunk in Toby’s room even though neither of them was going to sleep there.

The sun dipped lower. As they settled down for dinner, which was a nutritious meal of instant noodles cooked by Karl.

“You do spoil me.” Nick teased.

Afterwards, before settling in for the night Nick pulled out a shoebox from the wardrobe. He didn’t say what was in it — just opened the lid and started sorting through the folded, yellowing pages.

Sketches. Dozens of them.

Some were nothing. Scribbles. Loose lines. Others weren’t.

Karl sat beside him on the floor, his knees drawn up. “These yours?”

Nick nodded. “Some from when I came here. Some from the old house.”

Karl didn’t say anything, just let the quiet hold the weight of the moment. Nick flipped to another drawing, a faceless figure sitting at a window, pencil lines heavy and smudged.

“I remember this one,” he said softly. “I did it the night after I found out we were moving again.”

Karl looked over, studying it for a moment. “It’s good.”

Nick smiled faintly. “It felt awful at the time.”

He flipped to another one, paused, then looked away like he wasn’t sure how it got in there.

Karl blinked. “Is that… me?”

Nick groaned. “It’s not.”

“It’s definitely me.”

“It’s not—”

“My nose isn’t that big though,” Karl teased, leaning closer.

Nick shoved him gently. “It is.”

Karl gasped, dramatically offended. “Wow. You finally admit you’ve been drawing me all along and insult me in the same breath.”

Nick laughed, a real one, eyes crinkling. “I was seventeen. I didn’t know what I was doing.”

“You’re still seventeen,” Karl pointed out.

“Yeah, well.” Nick shrugged. “I’m better at drawing now.”

Karl tilted his head. “You are. You’re really talented”

Nick looked up at him. “Gross.”

Karl’s voice dropped, softer. “Shush.”

They sat in the hush that followed, pages still scattered around them. Nick glanced over. Karl was already looking at him.

“I like it here,” Karl said. “It’s peaceful.”

Nick nodded. “I hated it at first. Thought it meant everything was ending. But it kind of feels like everything started here.”

Karl didn’t say anything, just reached out and took Nick’s hand.

Outside, the wind rustled gently through the trees. Inside, the lamp glowed low and warm. Nick leaned in, just enough for his forehead to press against Karl’s.

“I love you.”

Karl froze. Then blinked. And then smiled. “So you do like the nose.”

Nick shoved him again, but he was laughing, face flushed with affection and something lighter than relief. Karl squeezed his hand.

“I love you too,” he said.

Nick smiled softly, fingers still entwined with Karl’s.

“We got there in the end, didn’t we?”

Karl’s eyes twinkled. “We sure did.”

They shared a look — a quiet understanding, a promise.

“Us.”

“Eventually.”