Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Monday, 1 September

The alarm on Tori’s mobile goes off far too early. She lays there under her duvet, willing the offensive device to turn itself off. Instead, someone starts banging on her bedroom door.

“Make that stop,” Charlie shouts over the incessant rhythmic bells. He stops his pounding, but Tori knows he’s likely to come back if she doesn’t get up. She pulls herself out of bed and turns off the alarm on her phone. It’s plugged in across the room because otherwise she really might never get up.

Today is Victoria Spring’s first day of Sixth Form at Truham Grammar School. She’s about to be one of the few girls who subject themselves to the smell of boys every day for two years. Great.

At least Mum ironed her new Truham skirts yesterday. They’re stiffer than her Higgs skirts. Itchier too. Fuck’s sake.

Dressed, and having run a brush through her freshly-cut hair, Tori walks down the hall to Charlie’s room. His door is cracked open, so she pokes her head in.

“Morning.”

Charlie is in the middle of putting on his school shirt. She catches sight of a few of his ribs prominently outlined under his skin. She realises she hasn’t seen Charlie without a shirt since the beginning of the summer when they went on holiday. He was skinny then, but it’s far worse now. A shiver runs down her spine.

“Get out, Sleeping Beauty,” he calls, quickly turning away so she can’t see his chest.

Tori backs out for a moment, but doesn’t walk away, frozen on the spot. A few seconds later, Charlie, fully dressed, opens the door the rest of the way.

“Your alarm is loud enough to wake the whole neighbourhood, you know,” he says. He still looks a little annoyed, but there’s a twitch at the corners of his lips.

She tries to summon some levity. “At least it wasn’t Oliver waking you up with his morning-person-energy.”

Charlie rolls his eyes.

“You want some breakfast?” Tori asks. She tries to keep her voice even and not let hope tinge her tone.

He shrugs, not meeting her gaze. “Piece of toast, I guess.”

“Got it,” Tori says, voice still deliberately flat, despite the small victory. “I’ll pop it in with mine.”

Downstairs, she finds her dad at the kitchen table behind a newspaper like it’s the 90s, apparently engrossed. Beside him, Olly is eating dry cereal with a spoon. A half-empty glass of milk sits beside his bowl.

“Tori!” he cries, only Olly has a little bit of an issue with the letter ‘R,’ so it sounds like ‘Towi.’

She puts two pieces of bread in the toaster and then takes a seat beside him.

“Hey, kid. Are you ready for Year Two?”

Through a mouthful of Coco Pops, Olly says, “YES! I’m so excited. Also nervous. But Mrs. Patel is very nice and she promised I’ll have a good year. We get to learn about DINOSAURS!”

Tori takes a moment to soak in Olly’s excited grin in the hopes that it will get her through the day. Her youngest brother is the embodiment of sunshine and looking at his smile is like recharging in the sunlight.

“That sounds like fun!” she says, mustering some enthusiasm, even though it’s only eight-oh-five. The toast pops up and she gets up to butter it. As she’s grabbing butter and a knife, Mum comes into the kitchen and starts adjusting Tori’s blazer.

“Did we get this taken in enough?” Mum mutters, pulling at the shoulder.

Tori shrugs out of her grasp and slathers some butter on their toast.

“My blazer is fine.”

Charlie rushes in to grab their lunches from the fridge. Tori has a feeling he’s trying to avoid contact with Mum—and for good reason. She zeroes in on his clothes next.

“Charlie, your shirt looks looser this year. What is—”

“We have to go, Mum,” Tori interrupts. She shoves a piece of toast in Charlie’s hand and takes her lunch from him.

“Have a good day,” Dad says, not looking away from his paper. Olly shouts an excited goodbye, luckily much too young to read the uncomfortable vibe of the kitchen.

They walk to the bus stop in silence, both eating their toast, Charlie more slowly than Tori. When they get to the corner, Charlie bumps her shoulder with his.

“You didn’t have to come to Truham, you know.”

Tori shrugs. “Like I told Mum and Dad, I wanted to take English Lit with Mr. Lange.”

Charlie sighs. “You can drop the act, Victoria, I know you changed to Truham to keep an eye on the bullying situation.”

Last year was horrible for Charlie after he got outed. When given the chance to move to Truham for Sixth Form, Tori didn’t think twice. She knows her little brother can handle himself, but it’s her duty to be there for him. Despite the fact that she dislikes almost every boy she’s ever met, she would do anything for Charlie, so to Truham she goes. The bus pulls up and they get on. Tori hates the bus and she used to let Charlie catch it alone while she walked, but last year, during the bullying, she started taking it with him.

Sitting down, she says, “If those bellends try anything this year—”

“Are you going to punch them?” Charlie asks, smirking.

Tori glares at him. “Gonna punch you,” she mutters.

Charlie smiles, finding her left hand with his right and squeezing.

Inside the school gates, Charlie reminds her which way to turn to get to her form room, then splits off toward his own.

Alone in front of Truham, Tori considers what she’s subjecting herself to. Despite trying to seem strong and brave for Charlie and their parents, Tori is quite nervous about starting at a new school. It’s not like she was particularly attached to Higgs, but the devil you know, and all that. She had friends there, though mostly they felt sort of like default friends through Becky.

Becky does not understand why Tori would want to come to Truham since she doesn’t even like boys very much. When she said that, Tori didn’t really know what to say. She didn’t bother trying to explain the real reason. It didn’t seem worth the trouble. This summer, Becky started dating some guy called Jack, so she doesn’t seem to have much time for Tori anymore.

So, here she is, mostly friendless, besides her brother, and about to enter the lion’s den.

When she finally walks in and finds her room, the name plate outside says, ‘Mr. Farouk.’ Tori takes a breath and enters.

A severe-looking man with a beard and dark hair gives Tori some version of a smile, though it could be a slight grimace.

“I’m Mr. Farouk. You are?”

“Uh, Victoria Spring—Tori, please.”

Mr. Farouk nods and looks down at a piece of paper on the desk before him.

“Very well, Tori. You’ll be in the back next to Nicholas Nelson.”

Tori stares at him blankly, not sure if that was her cue to sit down.

Apparently, it was, because Mr. Farouk says, “Have a seat. Nick’s on the rugby team. I’m sure he’ll be welcoming.” He gestures toward a bulky boy with dark blonde hair and freckles. Nicholas—Nick, apparently—is looking out the window toward the school gates where a group of boys are gathered.

She almost snorts. A rugby boy. Fucking perfect. Those twats were the worst of Charlie’s bullies. She doesn’t remember him mentioning a Nicholas Nelson, but she also knows Charlie didn’t tell her everything that happened last year after he got outed.

Tori stalks to the back of the class and sets her backpack down beside the table. Before she can even sit down, Rugby Boy speaks.

“Hi, I’m Nick.” He has this soft smile on his face and Tori hates it.

“Tori,” she says, giving him an icy glare. Then she sits down, angling her body away from Nick, and getting a notebook out of her backpack. Apparently, he doesn’t get the hint.

“Did you used to go to Higgs?”

Tori does not have the energy for this.

“Yes,” she says, then sighs. It’s rude, but Tori doesn’t care.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Nick tries, but luckily, that’s all he says. They sit for the rest of registration in silence. Thank God.

The rest of the morning is relatively uneventful, and no one tries to befriend her in Maths or in the common room during her free period—thank God. At lunch, she takes one look in the canteen and decides she’d rather die than set foot inside. Instead, she walks around the back of the school and finds an empty bench. She may be at Truham, but she’s not going to be an overbearing sister and sit with Charlie and his strange friends. He has orchestra rehearsal some days anyway, so she’s on her own, and that’s fine.

Across the courtyard, she notices Nick, also alone on a bench, staring off into space. She’s surprised to see he’s not fucking around on the rugby field with the other homophobes. Whatever.

Chapter Text

Monday, 1 September

The September air is warm as it ruffles Nick’s hair. For lunch, he grabbed a sandwich from the canteen, but he finds he doesn’t have much of an appetite. Several of the lads are throwing a ball around the field. Last year, Nick would be out there too; he used to love spending his lunch hour running around with the team. As it is, he’s dreading their first practice of the year this afternoon.

He checks his phone. After afternoon registration, he has a free period and then English Literature. Christ, Nick has no idea why he chose English Lit. He’s a terrible reader. The words and letters always seem to swim around the page.

Actually, he’s not really sure why he picked any of his A-Levels. What’s he going to do with English Lit, Chemistry, and Geography? At least French will be an easy A* (assuming he can get the readings in a font besides Times New Roman—the little tails make everything harder). Last term, when he was meant to be deciding, everything was going to shit and he all but picked his subjects at random.

Hopefully, whatever they’re reading in English will have a free audiobook online.

When Nick gets back to form that afternoon, he’s the first one there. Mr. Farouk is bent over his desk, but he looks up when Nick walks in. Nick blushes in embarrassment at Mr. Farouk’s assessing stare. He wasn’t able to answer a question he should have known in Chemistry this morning. He wonders if Mr. Farouk is regretting letting him take the subject, even though he did well last year.

“Nick,” Mr. Farouk starts abruptly, “I want you to know that you can come to me if you need anything. I’m your form tutor this year, not just your Chemistry teacher. I’m here for you. My door is always open.”

Mr. Farouk always seems to have this mysterious look about him, as if he knows something about you. Maybe something you don’t even know yourself.

“Uh, thank you, Sir,” Nick says, slightly surprised by this little speech, especially coming from his stoic teacher. Other students are starting to come in, so Nick takes a seat.

He catches sight of Tori and gets a lump in his throat. He remembers the way she glared at him this morning. Maybe she’s just not a morning person.

“Hi,” he whispers as she sits down.

Tori rolls her eyes and shakes her head, her short hair swishing around her face. “Just don’t,” she hisses back.

Nick takes the rejection for what it is. It’s nothing new, at this point. His dad, David, the lads.

This summer, Nick was so lonely. He didn’t realise how much time he spent with the rugby team until they weren’t texting him anymore. That, and his friend from primary school, Imogen, moved away immediately after her last GCSE. Nick spent a lot of time teaching Nellie new tricks and waiting for Mum to come home from work. He and Mum watched the entirety of Parks and Rec, and played quite a bit of scrabble (her choice) and Mario Kart (his pick).

The new school year was supposed to bring opportunities for Nick to make new friends outside of the team, but he’s already been shot down spectacularly on day one. Is it something about him? Obviously, he knows why the rugby lads stopped inviting him to parties and whatnot, but is something so wrong with him that other people don’t want to be his friend either?

When the bell rings, Tori stands up and rushes out of the room as if Nick’s mere presence offends her.

During his free period, he reviews the syllabus for Chemistry, inputting important practical observation dates into his phone. If he doesn’t, he won’t stand a chance of remembering.

His last lesson before rugby is English. Tori turns out to be in his class, which feels like rubbing salt in the wound, really. Mr. Lange says a lot of things about NEAs and essays, but Nick has a hard time paying attention, his mind on rugby and failed friendships.

“Good afternoon, boys!” Coach Singh shouts over the cacophony of lad-ish noises echoing over the rugby pitch.

“Good afternoon, Miss!” most of the boys holler back. Nick winces at the noise. He’s kind of got a headache. He should probably drink more water.

Everyone quietens down and listens to Coach Singh. She welcomes them back, introduces a couple of boys who’ve just joined, and shouts out their new captain, a Year 13 called Seth, who Nick basically hates. Then, her face turns serious. “We’re going to have a good year,” she says. It’s not a suggestion. “Don’t think for a second that I didn’t notice the discomfort between some of you boys last term. That’s not going to fly this year. We need to be a team. Got it?”

The team gives varying agreements, some boys punching their friends’ shoulders affectionately, others mumbling confusedly. Nick feels his face growing hot. He’s all too aware that Coach knows the tension has something to do with him.

After a few more announcements, she sends them off to run laps as a warmup. No one says anything to Nick. Last year, they might have thrown arms around him and called him ‘Rugby King.’ How the mighty have fallen.

Later, they split into pairs for drills. Christian and Sai have already paired up. With some last shred of nearly-dead hope, Nick looks to Otis. He gives Nick a sad sort of smile-slash-grimace and shakes his head before pairing up with Harry. Fucking Harry. Nick ends up paired with one of the new Year 9s, Joey. He’s nice enough, and actually quite good, but Nick’s heart isn’t in it today.

At the end of practice, they do sprints. Nick is not the fastest on the team, not by a longshot, but when he runs, he runs like hell. Today, his feet pound the grass, probably with more force than necessary. It feels good to run until his chest hurts, but does nothing to dull the sinking feeling in his stomach.

Finally, Coach blows her whistle and rounds up the team, sending them to the locker room. Nick wipes the sweat off his forehead with the bottom of his shirt. When he drops his shirt back down, he finds Coach Singh blocking his path.

“Get changed and come see me in my office.” Nick must look concerned, because she claps him on the back of his shoulder. “You’re not in trouble.”

He nods and makes for the locker room, head down.

In Coach’s office, Nick takes a seat on the padded chair across from her desk.

Coach stares at him for a long moment. “Nick, whenever you’re ready to tell me what’s going on, I’ll be here to listen.” She’s quiet again, clearly giving him an opening to share.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Miss,” Nick lies. They had this conversation last term. Twice in fact. He appreciates the gesture, but hates that she can see the chasm between Nick and the other boys.

She sighs. “I get it. Just…please, if there’s something going on, tell me when you’re ready. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong.”

He doesn’t say anything for a while, even though he knows she means it. “Thanks, Miss,” is all he comes up with. She lets him go a minute later.

In the hallway on the way back to his locker, he passes by Charlie Spring. His dark curls are bouncing against his forehead as he smiles down at his phone.

There’s something about Charlie. Ever since last year, when Charlie was rudely thrust into the spotlight, Nick has been a bit intrigued by him, but has never worked up the courage to start a conversation. Charlie doesn’t notice him as he practically skips toward the doors and Nick sighs. One of these days, maybe.

That evening, his Mum gets home from a late shift to find Nick hunched over his laptop. She ruffles his hair.

“Already busy with homework?” she asks, dropping a kiss to the top of his head.

He sighs. “No, not really. I’m just trying to get through this reading for English.”

Mum sits down beside him. “Everything alright?”

“Just not a good reader,” Nick huffs. “It’s fine. I just had a day.”

She squeezes his shoulder and sets about making tea. They end up settling in front of the telly, despite it being half-ten, and watching an episode of Gilmore Girls. By the time he goes to bed, some of the stress of the day has melted away and he’s able to get some sleep.

Chapter Text

Monday, 1 September

Charlie’s last lesson of the day is Maths and he can’t stop jiggling his knee in excitement to get out of there. Maths is fine and all, but Charlie gets to play on a real drum set in seven-and-a-half minutes. He’s only got to play on his electric one for so many weeks and he can’t wait to get his hands on the real thing.

Tao gripes when Charlie ditches him and Isaac right when the bell rings, but Isaac gets it and Charlie can hear him soothing Tao as he disappears down the hallway.

The music block is emptying out, so Charlie has to fight against the traffic as he makes his way toward the practice rooms. And then there it is, his drum set. Okay, it’s not his, but he’s one of like, three students who actually play on it. He drops his backpack beside it and grabs his sticks.

The next half-hour passes in blissfully silent noise. Charlie knows that’s a contradiction. What he means is that the noise and catharsis of playing the drums quiets the thoughts in his head that regularly threaten to strangle him. When he plays, he forgets about the hunger pangs. He forgets about the way Mum probably put away laundry in his room this morning—even though he’s begged her not to touch his things—and he’s going to have to reorganize his whole wardrobe when he gets home. He forgets about the look on Tori’s face this morning when she saw his bare torso.

Charlie stops playing sometime later to take a sip of water from his water bottle and nearly has a heart attack. To his left, leaning against the wall, is a tall boy with a perfect face and floppy brown hair. Charlie didn’t hear him come in.

“Jesus!” he cries.

The boy smirks, but his eyes light up. “Just Ben is fine. You’re really good at that,” he says, gesturing toward the drum set. “It’s hot.”

Charlie opens his mouth, but no sounds come out. He’s not sure if he’s in a dream or a nightmare. Either the bullies haven’t actually stopped and he’s about to get socked in the chin, or a fit boy just told him he’s hot and meant it.

“I’ve seen you around,” Ben says. Which…at this point, everyone has seen Charlie around. It’s hard not to notice the kid who got outed to the whole school. Charlie has definitely seen Ben around as well, but didn’t have a name for the face.

“Um, you too,” Charlie says. Any attempt at seeming suave during this conversation has swiftly flown out the tiny practice room window.

Ben doesn’t seem to mind, though. He strides over to Charlie and the drum kit. “Budge over.”

Still a bit stunned, Charlie scoots until half of his bum is hanging off the tiny stool. Ben sits down beside him, their thighs pressed together.

“I…didn’t hear you come in,” Charlie says, dumbly, his brain trying to catch up.

“I know,” Ben says. “You were too busy wailing on this thing. Did you know your hair bounces when you play? Like I said: hot.”

“Um, I—um, thanks,” Charlie blunders.

“And you’re cute when you’re flustered.” Ben’s eyelashes flutter prettily as he chuckles.

They’re sitting so close together that Charlie can feel Ben’s breath against his face and the heat from Ben’s body along the length of his.

It’s overwhelming to feel another boy this close. His leg twitches involuntarily, and Ben wobbles on the stool. To catch himself, Ben wraps an arm around Charlie’s back, bringing them even closer together.

They’re both frozen, together in this moment. Charlie stares into Ben’s eyes. They’re a dark brown—or at least dark. His pupils are huge, so Charlie’s not sure. Ben seems to be staring at Charlie’s lips, his brows furrowed.

As if finally making a difficult decision, Ben’s forehead relaxes. He brings his other hand up to the side of Charlie’s neck, leans in, and kisses him.

Charlie doesn’t quite know what to do. It’s a bit embarrassing that he’s never kissed anyone before. He’s fifteen, for fuck’s sake. Most people he knows have at least pecked someone on the lips at a party—except Isaac, and he doesn’t seem to care for that sort of thing. But as Ben kisses him, he finds it’s pretty easy to fall into the rhythm of it. Ben’s tongue pushes against his lips, so Charlie opens his mouth and their tongues touch. He feels a tingle spread through his body. In a brief moment of panic, he realizes he’s just sitting there limply, still holding his drumsticks as Ben threads his hands through his hair. Charlie drops the sticks and his hands find purchase on the lapels of Ben’s blazer.

This seems to startle Ben, because he pulls back and looks behind him toward the window in the practice room door. As quickly as it began, it’s over. Ben stands up and looks at Charlie and his mussed hair.

“You can’t tell anyone about this,” Ben says, his voice hardened. He seems off-balance for the first time in this whole interaction.

“Okay,” Charlie says. The room feels weirdly hot.

Ben nods, then his confident smirk returns. “We should do this again. I’ll add you on Insta.” Then he straightens his blazer, and he’s gone.

Charlie sits there, half on the stool, for at least a full minute, stunned by what just happened. A fit boy kissed him. His heart is racing and he finds himself putting a hand on his chest to try and calm it. Honestly, he can’t believe his luck. After the shitstorm of Year 10, it seems like Year 11 is off to a promising start.

He picks up his sticks from the floor and, after a quick look at his phone, decides he should probably head home.

On the way to his locker to grab a book for English, his phone vibrates in his pocket.

ben_h_999 has requested to follow you

Charlie grins all the way down the hall. When he finally steps out of the building, he looks both ways to make sure he’s alone and lets himself jump up and down a few times in excitement. The fit boy who kissed him just followed him on Insta!

Quickly, he realises jumping was the wrong call; he’s definitely light-headed now, though that may be more related to lack of food. He hasn’t eaten anything today other than the toast Tori gave him at breakfast and a few carrot sticks at lunch. He’s pretty sure Tao and Isaac were too busy recounting a funny story from one of their shared lessons to notice that Charlie was only pretending to eat.

It’s not that Charlie wants to be the sort of person who can’t eat normally, but it’s not that simple. These days, he looks at a plate of food and feels a tightening in his chest and he just knows he has to follow the rules. There are a lot of rules about how and what and when he can eat, and he knows other people won’t understand them. He knows other people don’t think like this, but he can’t help the way his brain works.

As he walks through his front door, Charlie figures he’ll pop to the kitchen, eat a couple of cream crackers so he doesn’t pass out, and disappear to his room.

Unfortunately, his plan is foiled by one Oliver Spring. He’s bouncing around the kitchen as Dad washes dishes.

“Charlie! Dad and I made BLUEBERRY MUFFINS!”

“That’s nice,” Charlie says. It isn’t. It isn’t nice. He knows what’s coming next.

“You have to TRY ONE!” Olly all but shouts.

Dad looks over his shoulder from the sink and smiles at Charlie encouragingly, as if to reassure him that Olly didn’t do anything weird to the muffins. If only that was the concern.

“Uh, I’m kinda full from lunch,” Charlie hedges, but it’s so hard to say no to Olly.

“Please? They’re so tasty, I promise!”

Charlie feels his Dad’s eyes on him as he takes a long look at the plate of muffins.

“Okay.” He shucks his blazer and sits down at the table where he’s able to get Olly going on a play-by-play of his day so he doesn’t notice Charlie only ripping off tiny pieces of the muffin.

A little while later, Tori comes downstairs and Charlie makes a show of taking an actual bite from the muffin to appease her, even though it’s making him feel sick.

“How was your first day at Truham?” Charlie asks, as Olly is distracted gathering bowls and spoons with Dad.

She shrugs. “Fine, besides the abundance of boys. I sit next to a rugby lad in form.”

“Whatever will you do?” Charlie says dramatically, then puts a hand on his forehead, pretending to swoon.

With a quick look to make sure Dad and Olly aren’t looking, Tori flips him off.

“Alright!” Dad announces a moment later. “Dinner is ready! I hope you haven’t spoiled your appetites with muffins, or your mum will have my head.”

They sit down as a family—minus Mum, who’s working late today—and Dad serves them bowls of potato soup from the slow cooker.

Charlie hates soup. He hates the way it feels in his mouth and sliding down his throat. He hates the way you can’t portion it out into small bites in the bowl. He hates the way other people can tell exactly how much you’ve eaten.

Dad tries to make conversation with Charlie and Tori, but neither of them are very forthcoming about school. Thankfully, both Dad and Olly are perfectly happy to ramble on about their own days.

Luckily, by the time everyone has run out of things to say, all of their bowls are still at least half-full.

“Well,” Dad says, “I don’t think this one was a hit.” He doesn’t look too broken up about it. Mum is always encouraging Dad to cook actual meals on days she works late—not to just feed the kids sandwiches—but it doesn’t always go well.

Olly, after giving it some thought, says, “I think it needed cheese.”

“And salt,” Tori adds.

Everyone is quiet for a moment before they all burst out laughing. Even Tori is chuckling into her hand.

They dump their leftovers down the drain and Dad makes Olly a sandwich.

“Charlie, Tori, can you fend for yourselves? I’ve got to go answer some emails.”

They agree, and Charlie nearly makes his escape to his room, but is foiled by Olly once again. He hangs on Tori’s arm, effectively blocking their way to the staircase.

“Can we play Mario Kart? PLEASE?”

Charlie catches Tori’s eye and one corner of her mouth ticks up.

“Loser takes out the rubbish?” she proposes.

“You’re on.”

And for a few hours that evening, while he and his siblings battle it out on Rainbow Road, everything feels almost normal and Charlie can relax.

Chapter Text

Monday, 8 September

For the rest of the first week of school, Nick was quiet and polite every day in form. He didn’t try to speak to Tori, but whenever she did glance his way, he had this look in his eyes—like she kicked his puppy. It’s not pleasant to see that twice a day, for God’s sake.

Today, Tori beats Nick to form. She hopes maybe he’s running so late that he misses it altogether. Then she feels bad for thinking that. Whatever.

Nick rushes in a few minutes later, sets his bag down on the floor and takes a seat.

“Morning,” he breathes out.

Maybe it’s just because it’s Monday, or maybe because she’s fucking tired of Nick pouting at her every day, but Tori lets out an audible groan. She gets her Sociology textbook out of her backpack for something to look at.

Nick is quiet for a moment and Tori thinks they’re going to move on and continue existing in silence, but no such luck. As soon as Mr. Farouk finishes calling the register, Nick speaks.

“Why…it’s fine if you don’t want to be friends but…why do you hate me? Did I do something wrong?” He says it so meekly, as if he isn’t six feet tall and made of muscle.

She can’t fucking believe this.

“You’re a rugby lad,” she says, tone laced with disapproval. When that doesn’t clear the confusion from his face, Tori elaborates. “Rugby lads bullied my brother last year.”

This doesn’t seem to help either.

“Your brother?”

Tori rolls her eyes. “Yeah, Charlie Spring. You know, the guy whose life your whole team made hell last year, just because he’s gay?”

Nick stares at her and Tori can almost see the gears turning in his head.

“You’re Charlie’s sister?”

“Yeah, Tori Spring.” What an idiot.

“I…I didn’t connect the dots. You…you think I bullied him last year,” Nick processes.

He’s not asking a question, so Tori doesn’t respond, just glares.

Nick waves his hands in front of himself, as if energy is flowing through his arms with nowhere to go.

“I didn’t. I—I—I swear. I swear on everything. I was never a part of it. I regularly asked the boys to quit it and I—I just didn’t bully him. I promise.”

Tori takes a long look at Nick Nelson. His brow is furrowed, so much so that he’s almost squinting. His lips are tightly pressed together, as if to stop himself from saying something else. His eyes are shiny and Tori’s a little afraid he might start crying.

He’s telling the truth, she decides. People that are bullshitting don’t usually tear up like that. Unless he’s got a BAFTA up his sleeve, he’s probably not that good at lying. Despite Tori’s previous reservations, he looks sincere. She isn’t excited about the idea of changing her opinion of Nick, but despite what people might think, she can admit when she’s wrong.

But before she can say anything, the bell rings and in an instant, Nick is gone.

In registration that afternoon, Nick sits down gingerly beside Tori, as if bracing for more of her ire.

Honestly, Tori kind of feels like crap about the whole thing. She really fucked up and was a huge arsehole for no real reason. It’s not like her to be that shitty to someone—her protectiveness over Charlie got the best of her in the worst way. It seems like maybe Nick wants to protect Charlie, too. Someone who got that worked up at the assumption that he bullied another student—specifically Charlie—is probably a person Tori wants on her side.

“Hi, Nick,” she says, trying for a smile.

Nick’s eyes widen and his mouth hangs open for a few seconds before he manages, “Uh, hi, Tori.”

She sighs, but it’s not with annoyance, for once. “Look, I’m sorry I misjudged you. I was a wanker.”

He snorts. “A bit, but it’s okay.”

Tori sucks in a breath. “I think…you might be alright,” she says, quietly. She doesn’t really know where that came from, but now that she’s said it, she finds it’s true. “Ugh that was so cringe.”

“Oh, no, that’s—yeah,” Nick says. A smile slowly spreads across his face, and it’s one to rival Olly’s. “Cool.”

That afternoon, Tori and Charlie meet at the school gates. Charlie has this weird, pleased smile on his face. Tori gives him a quizzical look, but he shakes his head. They get on the arriving bus and slide in beside each other.

“Tao was on a tirade in Maths. He’s trying to boycott trigonometry. He says it’s inhumane,” Charlie explains.

Privately, Tori thinks Tao’s antics have never caused Charlie to have that dreamy look on his face.

Out loud, she says, “Your friends are strange.”

Charlie rolls his eyes. “Well, how was your day then?”

“I found out the rugby lad in my form group isn’t a bellend,” Tori says, then quickly regrets it.

Charlie practically tackles her on the bus seat.

“Tori!” he cries, nuzzling his head on her shoulder. “Did you make a friend? You have to tell me everything.”

“Absolutely not,” she groans.

They banter for the rest of the ride and the walk home, but Tori doesn’t reveal who she’s become friendly acquaintances with.

At home, Tori suggests they have a snack. Charlie shies away and she tugs on his arm.

“Will you please eat something, Charlie?” she asks, trying to be gentle.

“Mind your own business,” he snaps, suddenly irate. “I don’t need you to micromanage me.” Then he disappears upstairs. At dinner time, Charlie claims to have a stomach ache, leaving Tori to be the main target of Mum and Dad’s questioning as they eat chicken and pasta bake. At least she has Olly, but Charlie’s empty chair feels larger than life.

Tuesday, 9 September

The next morning, Charlie is subdued, but when Tori cuts up an apple, he nibbles on a few pieces on the way to the bus stop. They don’t speak, so Tori spends the bus ride psyching herself up to extend another olive branch to Nick and actually make small talk.

When Nick sits down beside her in form, Tori greets him with a ‘hi.’

Nick, hair flopping over his face, shoots her a smile. “Morning, Tori.”

“How was rugby yesterday?” Tori asks. This seems like the safest topic to discuss with a rugby lad, despite the fact she doesn’t really care about the answer.

But, it appears she was wrong. Nick’s smile fades and his expression shutters. “Uh, fine. We, um, did a lot of drills.” His eyes unfocus a bit and he stares out the window.

It’s an extremely vague response, Tori notes. She often employs this tactic with her parents when trying to skirt around an uncomfortable topic. So, don’t talk about rugby with Nick Nelson. Got it. Now she has to think of something else.

“Did you—did you do anything fun after?”

“Hmm?” Nick looks back at Tori. “Oh, well, my mum and I watched Doctor Who.” He shrugs, like he’s trying to seem casual. Almost like he’s worried she’ll think that’s stupid.

Luckily, Tori had a big Doctor Who phase in Years 9 and 10, so she’s ready for this topic.

“Oh? Which doctor?”

Nick perks up. “My mum and I are doing a rewatch and we just started Ten’s first season. Tennant’s probably my favorite Doctor, although I love Jodie as well.” He seems so pleased to get to discuss the show, and Tori is happy to talk about it.

“Mine’s Eleven,” Tori says. “He’s so broody.”

Nick laughs. “He’s my mum’s favorite too! Although I think she just fancies him.”

Mr. Farouk clears his throat to get the room’s attention, but under her breath, Tori murmurs, “My mum fancies Twelve.”

They giggle behind their hands until Mr. Farouk gives them a pointed glare.

Tori and Nick have double English on Tuesday mornings after form. Unlike last week, when Tori bolted from form, fueled by fury, today she and Nick walk down the corridor together. It’s a nice change.

“Right.” Mr. Lange starts. “Later this period, we will continue analyzing the short stories you read over the weekend, but first we’re going to discuss your mock NEA for this half-term.” The class groans, but he continues, unperturbed. “You’ll be working with a partner,” another collective groan, “and reading one of William Shakespeare’s plays. Then you’ll be writing an essay and preparing a presentation together on the themes of the play.”

Tori wants to bang her head on her desk.

“I know this sounds daunting, but I have one silver lining for you: You get to pick your own partners.”

Immediately, Nick turns around from the table in front of Tori and they lock eyes. Tori nods, more than grateful to finally have an ally in this godforsaken place. She cannot stand the rest of the students in English Lit.

Mr. Lange raises a hand to quiet the chatter that’s erupted as everyone tries to figure out who they’re going to partner with.

“In a moment, I’ll allow you to get up and pick a partner. Have a seat with them, and spend the next thirty minutes discussing which play you want to present on, and then make a plan for the next few weeks. I don’t want you all writing about the same play, so as soon as you and your partner know what play you’d like, come see me and I’ll write it on the board. First come, first served. And…go ahead.”

The boy who sits beside Tori—Jimmy or Johnny or something—gets up and beelines for a pretty blonde girl across the room. Nick slides into his seat a moment later.

“Do you want to be partners?” Nick asks. He seems a bit shy, even though Tori thought they’d already nonverbally agreed.

“Duh,” she says, and gets out her laptop. “Let me just pull up a list of his plays.”

They both lean over her computer and read the surprisingly long list. Tori recognizes all the names, of course, but hasn’t read any of them. She didn’t even properly read Romeo and Juliet in Year 10 English.

She scrolls past the ones about kings because…just no. She hovers the mouse over Hamlet for a moment, but Nick wrinkles his nose.

“Can we not do one of the sad ones?”

“Ugh, fine,” Tori says. She scrolls down to the comedies.

“Oh, I saw Much Ado About Nothing a few years ago,” Nick says. “My aunt got my mum tickets for her birthday, so we all went.”

Tori hums. “Was it tolerable?”

Nick nods. “I liked it.”

“I’m in, then,” Tori says. She gets up and tells Mr. Lange her and Nick’s choice, then sits back down.

They sit there quietly for a moment, and it sinks in that they actually have to read the play now.

She groans. “Why did Shakespeare have to write in such weird language?”

Nick is picking at a loose thread on his blazer sleeve. Tori thinks he might be nervous.

“I’m kind of…awful at reading,” he says. “I usually listen to audiobooks.”

Tori sniffs a laugh and shrugs. “I kind of hate literature.”

Nick chuckles in return. “Why are we doing English Lit.?” He tilts his head and lowers his voice. “We could just watch the play. I heard there’s a version with David Tennant and Catherine Tate,” he says. His eyes light up and he seems weirdly excited about that.

A quick Google search tells Tori they can rent that version of the play for a tenner from Digital Theatre.

“Split the cost and rent it?”

“Works for me,” Nick agrees. “Do you want to come round mine on Thursday? I don’t have rugby.”

Tori clicks over to the calendar app on her computer. Thursday says, ‘Mum and Dad dinner out with Greg and Chelsea.’ If she leaves Charlie alone to watch Olly, she’s pretty sure he’ll just feed Olly and not eat anything himself.

“Uh, I need to be home with my brothers. Can you come round mine?”

Nick agrees readily, and they exchange numbers. Tori isn’t excited about this project—no one in their right mind should be excited about a group project—but working with Nick might not be so bad. What a difference a day makes.

That afternoon, Tori waits by the school gate for Charlie, but he doesn’t show for ten minutes. She texts him eventually, and he responds that he’s staying late to practice drums. Gee, would have been nice if he’d thought to tell her. As she sits on the bus alone, Tori wonders if Charlie is only staying late because she tried to get him to eat a snack yesterday. She wishes she knew what to do, or why he won’t eat.

Chapter Text

Tuesday, 9 September

The second half of the school day sails by as Nick coasts on the high of having made—if not quite a friend, then a friendly acquaintance. When Tori let him explain himself yesterday and then apparently forgave him for being a rugby lad, it was like one of the weights lifted off his shoulders. There’s several more, mind, but at least one’s gone.

He had been so fucking down all of last week—each rugby practice bringing him down even further. That combined with it being his birthday and both David and Dad forgetting culminated in a very disappointing first week of school. But knowing that someone—anyone, though he’s glad it’s Tori—has deemed him good enough for friendship has brought him back up, at least a little bit.

As he changes for rugby, he resolves not to let the other boys’ iciness get to him.

It’s not as if he doesn’t know why they don’t talk to him anymore. He did as good as threaten them.

Last year, Nick was a Year 11, and half the school called him the Rugby King. He was one of the best players on the team and the lads loved him. But halfway through term, someone on the rugby team found out that one of the Year 10s—Charlie Spring—was gay, and several of the older boys made it their life’s mission to ruin Charlie’s. Half of the team, including some of the younger lads, followed suit. They would call him names in the hall, slam him into lockers, even throw things at him. More than once, Nick saw writing on the walls of the boys’ bathroom calling Charlie awful names.

Whenever he heard the other boys making fun of Charlie or generally being arseholes about his sexuality, Nick would say something like, ‘Hey, stop it. That’s not funny.’ Then Harry or someone would say, ‘What, are you gay too, Nelson?’ Nick would wave them off, hoping that he’d moved the conversation away from Charlie.

After weeks of this, Nick couldn’t stand it any longer.

He thought Charlie seemed really nice. He actually wanted to be Charlie’s friend, but they ran in such different circles and he wasn’t sure how to start a conversation with him.

Even if Nick hadn’t thought Charlie would be fun to speak to, bullying someone is never okay. Since the boys didn’t give a fuck about basic human decency, he knew he’d have to go for the jugular.

One April morning before school, Nick was standing with the rugby lads outside the school gates as Charlie and his friends passed by. Harry, Kenneth, and Rod were jeering at them and miming cocksucking. As soon as Charlie was inside the school, Nick rounded on the guys.

“Do you not understand how horrible you’re all being? What did Charlie ever do to you?”

Rod clapped Nick on the arm. “It’s all good fun, mate.”

“It is not,” Nick argued. “And you know what? If you’re not going to let up, I’m going to fucking quit the team.”

That shut up the lads. Nick knew they were fully aware he was the reason they stood any chance of beating St. John’s in two weeks.

“You’re bluffing,” Harry said, but his furrowed brow betrayed his hesitancy.

“Wanna find out?”

Kenneth, the team’s captain, put his hands up and stepped in front of Rod and Harry.

“Right. Looks like Nicky boy has made his point.” He sneered at Nick, then cocked his head toward the school gate. “C’mon lads, let’s go.”

Rod and Harry fell in line quickly with a few other boys. Otis, Christian, and Sai looked at Nick with pained and panicked expressions before filing away with their captain. Those three never actually said anything bad about Charlie, and Nick thought they were his friends, so he’d hoped they’d be on his side. But no, he was alone on that picnic bench. He knew he’d done the right thing, but he was terrified of the repercussions.

The bullying stopped right after that, and ever since then, Nick’s relationship with the entire rugby team has changed irreversibly. Kenneth may have left, but Harry, Rod, Seth, and a good section of the sixth form boys have kept the ire alive. Nick is no longer invited to parties, group chats, or to toss the ball around at lunch. Now, he gets tackled more often than necessary at practice, shunned during pregame pep talks, and ignored in the changing rooms. Every now and then, he gets this sense that Otis or Sai are going to stick up for him—or even just talk to him—but they’re always intercepted by one of the other boys.

Today’s practice is no different, and not for the first time, Nick contemplates just going ahead and quitting the team since they all seem to wish he didn’t exist. He would, honestly, but he’s very much afraid that if he does, Rod, Harry, and co. would take this as the green light to start the bullying back up again. He’s fucking stuck in an awful situation.

Thursday, 11 September

After riding home from school with Mum, Nick changes and walks the ten minutes to Tori’s house to watch Much Ado About Nothing. He finds he’s actually kind of nervous—it’s not exactly butterflies, but something is definitely ricocheting around his stomach.

For the tiniest moment, the thought crosses his mind that he might have a crush on Tori, but he quickly discounts that idea. To be fair, if her hair was curlier, she’d be pretty much bang-on his type—looks wise—but Nick is pretty sure that’s not it. He doesn’t feel the urge to hold her hand or kiss her like he had his Year 10 girlfriend, Mia. No, he must just be nervous about trying to make a new friend and meeting her siblings.

When he gets to Tori’s house, Nick double checks the address she texted him, then knocks on the door.

He’s expecting Tori to answer the door, so when Charlie is the one he comes face to face with, all the breath leaves Nick’s body in one big whoosh.

Charlie is wearing a soft gray cardigan over a pale blue shirt and black joggers. He looks so cuddly. Where did that thought come from?

“Uh, hi,” Nick says, suddenly very conscious that this is the first time he’s ever spoken to Charlie Spring. “I’m Nick.”

“Oh, right,” Charlie says, squinting slightly. “You’re here for Tori?”

“Yes,” Nick says. He searches for more words, but none make it past his lips. His tongue feels oddly large and his mouth is way too dry.

Tori’s arrival in the front hall saves Nick from himself. She pushes Charlie out of the way and waves Nick inside as Charlie disappears down the hall.

“C’mon,” she says.

They pass by the living room where something is playing on the telly.

From inside, Charlie yells, “Do you need the TV?”

Tori steps into the room and Nick pokes his head in after, curious about what they’re watching. He sees Charlie wrapped in a blanket on the sofa and a small, dark haired boy sprawled on the carpet.

“No, we’ll be in the kitchen with my laptop but—”

“Is that Avatar: The Legend of Aang?” Nick asks, excited. He loves ATLA. He used to watch it every day after school in primary school—so much so that for a brief period, Mum signed him up for martial arts lessons. After only a few months, the teachers decided Nick was too rambunctious for Karate and that’s when he discovered rugby.

Charlie perks up and smiles at Nick. It’s bright and lovely.

“Yes!”

“IT SURE IS!” says the small boy.

Tori rolls her eyes, but by the soft turn of her lips, it’s clearly fond. He feels a pang of envy that he and David have never had this kind of relationship.

Tori grabs Nick’s arm and tugs him fully into the room.

“Nick, this is Olly. And you just met Charlie.” She gestures at her brothers.

Nick puts up his hand awkwardly. “Hi.”

Olly jumps up from the carpet. “Do YOU like Avatar, Nick?” He starts running around the room as if he’s Aang gliding on his airbender staff.

“I do,” Nick says, doing his best to hold in a giggle. He catches Charlie’s eye and they both grin.

“Who’s your favorite? Mine’s Aang!” Olly says, pausing his gliding.

Nick crouches down to Olly’s level, as if he has a secret. “I have to say Sokka. When I was little, I asked Santa for a boomerang for Christmas!”

Olly’s eyes widen, riveted. “Did you get one?”

“No,” Nick sighs. “I got a foam sword instead. Santa left me a note that said ‘boomerangs are too dangerous for kids.’”

With a serious nod, Olly considers this, then climbs on the couch before Tori can stop him and launches himself off, arms outstretched.

“Olly!” Charlie and Tori cry as Olly comes crashing down onto the carpet.

“I’m okay!” he yells.

Tori shakes her head. “On that note, Nick and I need to go watch our play. Try not to break any bones, please. Also, Dad left us stuff for chicken sandwiches and we’re going to eat in an hour.”

With that, Tori and Nick head to the kitchen, where Tori has set up her laptop with Much Ado About Nothing open on screen.

“Sorry,” Tori says, “I know you didn’t sign on for family dinner, but I have to keep everyone fed.” She gives a stilted little laugh.

Nick smiles, unsure why she’s uncomfortable. He’s feeling much more relaxed than on the walk over. “I like chicken.”

They watch the play in relative silence, Nick doing his best to follow along with the copy of the play he borrowed from the school library and Tori leaning back and crossing her arms. But when they get to the scene where Benedick overhears his friends saying Beatrice loves him, David Tennant smears white paint all over his face and his Superman t-shirt and Tori lets out an, “Oh my god.”

That startles a laugh out of Nick. “How does he still look hot though?”

The corners of Tori’s mouth are pulled up and she gives what can only be described as a fond squint before Nick realises what he said.

“I mean, uh, objectively,” he covers. What the hell was that?

But Tori just shrugs and turns back to the laptop.

When the second act wraps up, Tori taps the space bar.

“I’m gonna make these sandwiches. Do you mind telling Charlie and Olly it’s time for dinner?”

Nick’s stomach flips at the mention of Charlie. What?

“Yeah, sure.”

He walks down the hallway and into the living room, but only Olly is on the sofa—there’s no sign of Charlie. Olly is watching Inside Out and drawing a very elaborate dragon with crayons on a piece of A4 paper.

“Hey, that’s neat!” Nick says.

Olly grins up at him. “His name is Very Big Dragon!”

Nick comes a bit nearer to the sofa and takes a closer look. Olly is so adorable and Nick feels a weird urge to be the big brother he never had. “Oh, awesome! I like his tail. But can you pause for a bit? Tori says dinner is ready.”

“Okay! Charlie is in his room. It’s upstairs.” Then he dashes from the room.

Alright…so apparently, Nick is going up to Charlie’s room. That’s fine.

Luckily, the rooms upstairs are labeled with their names. Tori’s has a large ‘do not enter’ sign, Olly’s has a sugar paper collage, and Charlie’s nameplate is a simple piece of white wood with music notes.

Nick knocks lightly. “Charlie? Dinner’s ready.”

The door opens and Nick is met with a softly smiling Charlie, lit only by fairy lights and the glow of a neon sign above his bed.

“Thanks,” he says quietly. “Be right down.”

“Uh, okay, yeah, got it,” Nick stammers. Why is he reacting like this to simply speaking to Charlie? “I’ll just—see you down there.” He turns and hurries downstairs to help Tori with the sandwiches.

Chapter Text

Friday, 12 September

Charlie wakes—as usual—to the incessant chiming of Tori's alarm clock. He doesn't know why he even sets his own. After his customary banging on her door, he dresses quickly, and sets about finishing his Maths homework. Last term, he would often finish easy homework in form, but sitting beside Isaac this year, they've taken to discussing books instead of focusing on anything school-related. Mr. Lange does his fair share of glaring at them, but seems to let it slide most of the time since they're usually talking about literature.

He's just finished the final problem when Tori taps on his door. He stands up from his desk and lets her in. She's grimacing and adjusting her skirt.

"Toast?" is her greeting. Charlie shrugs noncommittally. His stomach feels cavernous, so he should probably eat something, but the thought makes him nauseous.

A few minutes later, he slams the front door behind them, fleeing his mother's scrutiny—this time about the cleanliness of his shoes—and he and Tori head for the bus stop.

Beside him, Tori is crunching her toast and actually seems to have a faint smile on her face. Charlie is glad—he knows the switch to Truham can't have been easy for her, and he's glad she seems to be settling in, at least a bit, even making a friend.

Nick Nelson, who came over for a project last night, seems very nice. He was good with Olly and nothing but kind to Charlie. At first, Charlie wanted to curse Tori for inviting a stranger to join them for dinner, but Nick was the embodiment of politeness. He didn't say anything about the fact that Charlie barely managed two bites of his turkey sandwich, or even glance at him worriedly, the way Tori always does. Charlie would much prefer to eat dinner with Nick and his siblings over eating with his parents. As far as he's concerned, Tori can have Nick over whenever she wants—because he's nice, of course, not at all because he's a bit of eye candy. Charlie is only a man though, and he probably looked at Nick's biceps a couple more seconds than was appropriate. But, he has a kind-of-boyfriend and Nick is almost definitely straight, so it's all moot.

After Nick went home, Charlie cornered Tori in the kitchen. "Are you two dating?" he asked.

Tori isn't usually one to give a fuck about boys, but she seemed weirdly comfortable with Nick, so he had to ask.

She wrinkled her nose. "Ew, no. I would never date a rugby lad. Just because I'm working on a presentation with a guy does not mean we're dating."

Either way, it's nice to see that Tori has a friend. Charlie hopes Nick will come by again.

As he splits off from Tori to head to Mr. Lange’s room that morning, Charlie's phone buzzes in his pocket.

ben_h_999: Meet me in the library before form x

Charlie responds that he will and feels a happy, fizzy feeling in his stomach. The last two weeks of seeing Ben have been so exciting. Ben has the softest lips—Charlie imagines, of course, having never kissed anyone else—and he wants to see Charlie almost every day. He even went round Ben's house last weekend when his parents were out of town. They made out for at least an hour straight, which was exhilarating, although Charlie's lips got quite chapped from all of Ben's biting. He suggested they take a break at one point and play a video game or even just get to know each other, but Ben didn't seem very interested in anything besides kissing. Charlie couldn't blame him; kissing is very, very fun.

The only thing that's bothering Charlie is how adamant Ben is that no one can ever find out about them. He hopes eventually, Ben will change his mind.

"Ben?" he calls out in a whisper. He's behind the stacks of biographies in the library where they've been meeting most mornings. The biographies are at the back of the library next to a wall and one of the bulbs has burned out in the light panel in this area, so it's only dimly lit.

Ben appears from around the corner a moment later, messenger bag over his shoulder and hair swooping over his eyes.

"Hi," he says.

"Hi," Charlie echoes, making sure to keep his voice low.

Ben lets his bag drop on the floor with a light thump, then crowds Charlie against the wall.

They explore each other's mouths, Ben's tongue pressing past Charlie's lips almost immediately, almost as if he owns Charlie's mouth. Charlie kisses back, but lets Ben take control as he always does. After a few minutes, Ben kisses a wet path across Charlie's jaw and below his earlobe. Last weekend, they discovered that spot is very sensitive.

Charlie lets out a moan, overcome by the feeling of Ben's teeth on his skin. For a moment—curse his horny brain—he forgets where they are.

In a split second, Ben grabs his wrists and has them pinned against the wall on either side of Charlie's head, holding them with an iron grip. It stings.

"You have to be quiet," Ben hisses, eyes wild and teeth bared.

Panic—or maybe acid reflux—bubbles in Charlie's gut and quickly makes its way up his chest, settling in his throat. He struggles against Ben's grip, but it's no use—Ben is much stronger than him.

"That hurts," Charlie tries.

"Jesus, you're an idiot," Ben mutters, before capturing Charlie's lips again in a kiss that is more teeth than lips.

Charlie's mind is reeling, trying to reconcile the Ben of two minutes ago with the one currently pinning him to a wall.

The warning bell goes and Ben steps back, releasing Charlie's arms so suddenly that they fall to his sides like limp spaghetti.

"Don't tell anyone about this," Ben warns. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and stalks out of the biography section.

All the air rushes out of Charlie's lungs and his body collapses, his knees buckling. He ends up crouched against the library wall, breathing hard. His mind clouds. He shouldn't have moaned so loudly. He needs to control himself.

The bell for the start of registration goes and Charlie's back straightens. Fuck. He stands up and grabs his backpack. On the way down the hall, he walks quickly, keeping his head down and trying to straighten his blazer.

"Nice of you to join us, Charlie," Mr. Lange drawls, pointedly glancing at the clock on the wall.

Murmuring his apology and rushing to his seat, Charlie tries to avoid his classmates' curious looks. Isaac's prying eyes are enough. In this moment, he's extremely glad Tao is in another form.

"Charlie," Isaac whispers. He's actually closed his book—Anne of Avonlea sits shut before him, bookmark forgotten—which means he's genuinely concerned. Shit. "Are you alright?"

"Fine," he hisses back. "I'm fine." He balls up his hands in fists on the table, still trying to catch his breath.

Isaac reaches out to touch Charlie's wrist. "What is that?"

Charlie follows his gaze. His shirt cuff has ridden up on his right arm, revealing a reddish-purple mark that's quickly bruising. His mind clouds again as he recalls the feeling of Ben's hands wrapped around his wrists, keeping him pressed against the wall.

Quickly, he drags his shirt back down to cover his palm.

"Nothing. I bumped into a doorway when I was running late this morning."

Isaac narrows his eyes, but Mr. Lange starts speaking about something happening next week, so he isn't able to say anything. When the bell rings, Charlie grabs his bag and rushes out of the room.

Charlie hurries down the hall, this time in a mass of bodies, before he makes it to the boys toilets, planning to splash water on his face and make sure his uniform is in order before English. He bursts in the door and is met with a body bent over the sink, quietly cursing. As he comes closer, he realises it's Nick Nelson and his hands are—blue?

For a moment, Charlie forgets his awful morning.

"What happened to you?" he asks, covering his mouth as he giggles.

Nick startles and looks up. "Oh, hi Charlie," he says, a little breathless. "My, uh, my fountain pen burst. He holds out his hands for Charlie to see the full breadth of the damage. "It's not coming off," he whinges, but the crinkles around his eyes suggest he's holding back a laugh. "It looks like I have blue gloves!"

"You could make it the new school fashion," Charlie quips.

"Oh my God," Nick says, finally giving up and turning off the water. He turns to grab a few paper towels and Charlie can see that blue ink is splattered on his white shirt as well. For some reason, the sight of Nick struggling with his blue hands causes a little flutter in Charlie's stomach.

Suddenly, he realises he's just come into the toilets and stared at Nick without doing anything else. Turning his body away from Nick to block the view of his bruised wrists, Charlie gets a pump of soap and scrubs for a moment, hoping he can wash away the feeling of Ben's grip.

In English, Charlie feels a bit more level-headed. Before sitting down beside Tao, he carefully yanks down his shirt over the heels of his palms. He's not risking a repeat of Isaac’s questions in registration.

As soon as Miss Brahms starts lecturing about the sixth chapter of Jane Eyre, Tao elbows Charlie. For a moment, Charlie thinks he's been caught out again, but Tao has another topic in mind.

"Why is Tori hanging out with Nick Nelson?" he hisses, mouth close to Charlie's ear.

Charlie flinches, feeling a bit touchy, then tries to cover it with a quiet cough. "What?"

Tao rolls his eyes. "I saw them walking to class together and chatting in, like, a friendly way."

"Oh, yeah. They have a presentation together for English. He came round yesterday to watch a recording of the play they're studying."

"A rugby lad! In your house!"

Now it's Charlie's turn to roll his eyes. "He's fine. Nice, even. You're just judgmental."

Too loudly, Tao says, "I am not!"

That earns them a shushing from Miss Brahms. Charlie just shrugs at Tao, raises an eyebrow and tunes in to the lecture.

At least Tao's outrage provides a distraction throughout English from the distress of the morning.

Chapter Text

Friday, 12 September

Family dinner at the Springs' hasn't been a pleasant time for Tori—or Charlie, for that matter—for quite a few months. She hasn't really found it fun to spend time with her parents—Mum specifically—in a few years. When her older children entered secondary school, the stick up Mum's arse seemingly got shoved quite a bit further up. She started to constantly worry about Tori and Charlie's every move; every essay, every slightly low mark, every grumpy mood are like ammunition to Mum.

Lately, though, each meal is even more of a minefield because of Charlie's eating issues. Mum is often overly offended by the way there's always a lot left on his plate after dinner is over, no matter what she cooks. Probably to keep her and Dad from getting concerned, Charlie clearly makes an effort once a week or so to convince them he's eating more. Tori knows better. She's seen the ravioli in their bathroom trash, haphazardly buried beneath a mound of loo roll.

Today is not one of those days. In the half-hour they've been sitting at dinner, Charlie has taken two bites of his potatoes and one singular bite of roast beef. He's also only spoken to ask Olly to pass the salt. Complete silence at the dinner table makes you a target for Jane Spring.

"Charlie," she says, jaw set, "your father and I spent an hour on dinner today. You could at least pretend to be enjoying yourself."

"I am enjoying myself," Charlie says meekly. "I'm not very hungry. I ate some of Tao's pizza at lunch and it turned my stomach a bit."

Tori knows he's lying. He's getting scarily good at it, she thinks.

Mum starts up with her comeback, apparently not feeling like Charlie's excuse was good enough. "I just feel like—"

"Leave him alone! He doesn't feel well and you won't stop piling on. Every day! Don't you ever stop?" Tori snaps. She can't handle this. Something is so obviously wrong, and Mum and Dad don't see it. Pissing them off is never the best course of action, but she can't leave Charlie out to dry. She's specifically concerned Mum will say, as she has before, that if Charlie doesn't eat now, there won't be any food available later. If that happened, Tori would honestly scream. The last thing she wants is for Charlie to be barred from food when he actually does decide he wants some.

"Victoria Annabel Spring," Mum says in a warning tone. She sets her fork quietly on her plate—even in anger, she won't slam silverware. "You will not speak to me that way."

Mum gives Dad a sharp look and he nods. "No, Tori. That was unacceptable."

Dad's disapproval must have been too much because Charlie roughly pushes his chair back and runs out of the room.

Olly, who shouldn't have to be hearing any of this, looks up at Mum with wide eyes.

"Is Charlie okay?"

Anger is seething under Tori's skin as she watches Mum reassure Olly that everything is alright.

"Sure," Tori snarls, glare fixed on Mum, "everything's just peachy."

With that, she slams her plate deliberately, gets up from her chair, shoves on her boots, and rushes out the front door.

With each step on the pavement Tori feels a bit more like she can breathe. She wishes she could've gone upstairs and comforted Charlie, but she doesn't think he would have wanted it. Plus, she's far too angry. She also feels bad for snapping at Mum in front of Olly. Between the whole family, there is an unspoken agreement not to let him witness any family conflict. But Tori had to say something.

She stomps along, fists balled and eyes glued to the pavement, replaying the dinner conversation in her mind. Fuck's sake. Why does Mum have to nitpick everything? It literally isn't necessary and all it does is make everyone upset. Like, what is improved by bothering Charlie and Tori about the straightness of their ties or the amount of potatoes they eat? Clearly, something is wrong with Charlie, but this isn't helping.

Suddenly, she runs smack into someone.

Tori might just be the most unlucky idiot in Kent. It's funny because it's true.

"Woah!" the person says.

Tori steps back, opening her mouth to meekly apologise and then turn tail, but she stops short.

"Nick?"

It's only seven—not quite dusk—so she can see clearly that it's Nick Nelson standing before her, clad in a blue hoodie and jeans, holding a red lead. At the end of the lead is a fluffy brown and white border collie, sitting politely beside him.

"Tori! Are you alright?"

"Fine. Thanks. Sorry," Tori grumbles, crossing her arms. She feels weird seeing someone from school in only her black jumper and leggings.

Nick doesn't look convinced by her answer. Neither does the dog, who barks once. Though, that may be unrelated.

"You…don't look like you feel fine," Nick hedges. Nellie barks again and Nick reaches down to scratch her head. His hands are both stained a dark blue, she notices.

"Your hands are blue," Tori says. Jesus, she hates when people state the obvious.

"Yeah, I got in a fight with a fountain pen." He chuckles and Tori snorts. "Look, uh, this is Nellie. She and I were going to the park. Do you want to walk with us?"

Her gut instinct is to say no, hurry home, and bury herself under her duvet. But, on the other hand, she'd really rather not go home yet, and Nick is nice enough to be around.

"Alright," Tori says, surprising herself.

Nick's eyes widen for a second, as if he's also kind of shocked she agreed.

"Okay, yeah, okay. Cool."

They set off in the direction Tori came, toward the park, in welcome, companionable silence.

Tori's never had a pet, but she figured she'd be a cat person. Cats are moody and tired, just like her. Still, she finds Nellie's pure joy at the sight of the park heartwarming.

They crunch through twigs and a few fallen leaves on the grass toward an open field surrounded by trees. Nick bends down and lets Nellie off her lead. She bounds off, running with all her might in a big circle.

"Wanna sit?" Nick asks, nodding toward a wooden bench under a big oak tree.

Tori shrugs, but follows him.

Nellie comes back a minute later and Nick produces a tennis ball from a pocket. He throws it a good distance and she dashes off through the grass again.

"No pressure," Nick says, "but I'm here if you want to talk about anything."

She takes a long look at him. Nick's hair is mussed, probably from rugby, his lips are chapped—maybe chewed on—and there are faintly darkened circles under his eyes. Tori wonders if he needs to talk about something himself. This is what friends do. At least, it's the sort of thing she used to do with Becky, back when they were in Year 7 or 8. The most she's said to Becky in the last few weeks was texting 'haha.' in response to Becky's 'hope you're surviving the boys.'

"Sure, I guess," she tells Nick. She turns back to stare out into the distance, focusing on a large knot in a tree across the field. "Can you—can you keep a secret?"

"Of course," Nick says quietly.

Tori takes a deep breath. "Something's wrong. Charlie…he doesn't eat normally. Ugh, 'normal' is such a stupid word. I mean, he doesn't eat nearly enough. Not even close. And I don't know why," she chokes out, frustrated to realise that tears are pricking her eyes.

"Shit," Nick says. He doesn't try to placate her or offer empty comfort, which she appreciates. Nellie comes back and Nick throws the ball again.

"It started last year, I think, when he was outed. I didn't really notice at first, but slowly he got skinnier and kept missing dinner. So now I try to encourage him to eat but it pisses him off. And then tonight my mum was harping on him about how many fucking bites of dinner he ate. I yelled at her in front of everyone because it just got to be too much." It's more than Tori usually says at once, so she stops, pressing her lips together and looking down at her lap.

Nick is quiet for another moment.

"Wow, that sounds like a lot," he says. His voice sounds tight, and Tori looks up to see he's blinking back tears too. "So your parents don't know something is wrong?"

Tori rolls her eyes. "I mean, they clearly know he's not acting how he did a year ago, but my mum thinks everything we do comes back to 'teenage angst' or something. And my dad…I don't know." She really doesn't. If he could stand up for them sometimes, it would really help, but sometimes it feels like he's just Mum's yes-man.

Nellie comes back again, but seems to have tired herself out. She sits down at their feet and nudges Tori's hand with her nose. Tori obliges and gives her a timid scratch on the head.

"I'm so sorry." Nick reaches out a hand toward her, maybe to touch her arm, to comfort her, but instead, she bursts out laughing.

"Oh my god, I forgot your hands are blue!"

"Shit! Me too!" Nick giggles. Nellie seems perturbed that she hasn't been the centre of attention in awhile, so she repeatedly bumps Nick's knees with her pink nose. "Alright, we should get back. She's telling me she's hungry."

Tori nods. "Thanks," she says softly.

"Yeah, 'course."

They give each other sad little smiles and Tori gives Nellie one last scritch before they part ways, heading in opposite directions from the park.

The sun is setting as Tori walks home and she feels a bit lighter. Talking to Nick actually seems to have released some of the tension, anger, and worry festering in Tori's stomach. By the time she gets home, she feels almost calm.

She's sure her parents are sitting in the kitchen, Mum probably stewing, sipping a cup of coffee. Tori wants a diet lemonade, but she'd rather not poke the bear. She knows she's in for a lecture after running out of the house, but she doesn't want to waste her calm mood, so she hurries upstairs quietly and knocks on Charlie's door.

"Come in," he says in a low voice.

Tori pushes the door open to find Charlie curled up in his bed, wrapped up in the duvet and a plush blanket. He has his laptop open on his lap.

"What'cha watching?" she asks. She doesn't bother asking if he's alright—he's not, and she can't fix it, but she can be there for him.

Charlie smiles, just barely, a tiny pull of his lips. "Parks and Rec." He scoots over on the bed, an invitation.

She walks over to the bed and slips under the covers beside him. That night, they fall asleep together like they used to as little kids, Charlie's head nuzzled into Tori's shoulder. She wishes she could be enough to protect him from his demons.

Chapter Text

Saturday, 13 September

Nick lies in bed, sunlight streaming in through a crack in the curtains. A glance at his phone tells him he’s slept until noon. He’s surprised Mum didn’t wake him earlier, but she must have noticed something was off with him when he got home last night—maybe she saw the tear tracks on his cheeks. On the way back from the park he stopped with Nellie to lean against a tree and let the tears fall.

His heart aches for Tori and Charlie. The way Tori explained Charlie’s struggles really puts his own issues with the rugby team in perspective. He can take being iced out if it does anything to lessen the burden on Charlie’s shoulders and keep the bullies at bay.

Speaking of, when he gets out of bed, he groans in agony. His thighs and calves are killing him. Yesterday at practice, the whole team struggled to work together well—surprise, surprise—and Coach got fed up. She reamed them out for fifteen minutes before sending them to run laps for the last half hour. Nick is in shape, but he’s not a long distance runner and he’s feeling it today. He knows all Coach Singh wants is to find out what’s wrong with the team dynamic, but there’s no way in hell Nick’s fessing up.

He thinks of Charlie and Tori, at home with their parents all day, he assumes. It sounds so tiring not to have your parents on your side. Even though Dad has never been a fully fledged member of Nick’s support team, he’s not outwardly antagonistic like Tori’s mum—instead, he prefers the 'distant and aloof' technique, which has its own drawbacks. But that's beside the point.

Nick knows he can’t really do anything about Charlie’s eating issues or their parents’ inaction, but he wants to be there for them, so he decides to do what he can.

After lunch, he settles in the living room with Nellie and takes out his phone.

“Smile for Tori, girl,” he coos, snapping her picture. Along with the picture of Nellie with her tongue out, Nick sends Tori a brief message.

Nick: Nellie says she enjoyed hanging out

Tori responds minutes later.

Tori: me too. she’s so cute. olly just looked over my shoulder and he’s obsessed

Like a lightning bolt, Nick is suddenly struck with inspiration.

Nick: Do you want to meet at the park again on Monday? You could bring Olly and Charlie!

Tori: olly says yes!!!!!!! and he told me to add seven exclamation points. i would never.
Tori: we’ll be there and i’ll ask charlie

Nick lets out a breath, flopping against the back of the sofa. He feels like he’s done something to help, even if it’s in the tiniest of ways.

On Sunday, Tori texts to tell him that Charlie won’t be coming to the park tomorrow—apparently he has plans with Tao and Isaac—and Nick feels his heart sink a bit. He was really looking forward to spending time with all three Spring siblings. It still feels good to support the family in any way he can, but he wanted to bring some light to Charlie’s day. Maybe next time.

Monday, 15 September

Nick is hurrying to the library during his free period when he hears the sounds of an argument spilling out of a math classroom. He pauses, concerned. The voices are muffled, but he catches Charlie's quiet voice.

"I'm sorry, okay?"

The other voice says something short and snippy, before footsteps approach the classroom door. Nick quickly steps to the other side, hopefully out of sight, as Ben Hope stalks out. When he turns a corner, Nick creeps out from behind the door and peers inside. Charlie is leaning against a desk, looking at his phone, and biting his lip.

Alarm bells ring in Nick's mind. "I didn't know you knew Ben," he says.

Charlie looks up, startled. Quickly, he straightens to his full height and pockets his phone.

"I don't."

"Oh." He doesn't know what else to say, because Charlie is clearly lying. He was in here arguing with Ben, so they’re definitely acquainted.

Charlie's face pinches and reddens, probably knowing he's caught in a lie.

"Sorry, I have to go." He heads toward the door and Nick steps aside, getting a whiff of vanilla as Charlie rushes past him.

The uneasy feeling doesn't leave Nick for the rest of the afternoon.

In afternoon registration, Nick and Tori made plans to meet at the park at four-forty-five, giving him enough time to shower after rugby. Nellie is thrilled to be going for a walk before dinner and when she sees the ball he brings along, she barks happily.

At the park, Nick catches sight of Tori sitting on the same bench from Friday night, and Olly sprawled on the grass, pretending to make snow angels without that one key ingredient. Nick lets Nellie off the lead and her joyful barks announce their arrival.

"HI NICK!" Olly shouts. Tori raises her hand in a small wave as Nellie bounds over to nuzzle her knees.

Nick grins at Olly's enthusiasm. "Hi, Olly! This is my dog, Nellie!"

"Can I play with her?" Olly asks, barely keeping himself from bouncing up into the air.

"Of course!" He pulls Nellie's favorite red ball out of his pocket and presents it to Olly. "If you throw this, she'll bring it right back."

Olly's eyes are wide and excited. "Like this?" he asks, tossing the ball a short distance. Nellie is off to retrieve it immediately and nearly knocks Olly down when she returns. His laughter echoes across the empty field and Nick feels his heart swell.

With Olly occupied, he settles down next to Tori on the bench.

"How're you holding up?" Nick asks.

Tori meets his eyes and shrugs. "Okay, I guess. No more blow ups, and somehow I'm not grounded for fleeing the scene."

"That's good." Nick laughs. He wants to fish for more information—he wants to know how Charlie is doing, but he doesn't want to be weird about it. Instead of any prying questions, he settles for offering a truth of his own. "My dad called yesterday. He wanted to know how rugby is going." He and Tori haven't broached the subject of Nick's avoidance of the rugby pitch at lunch or his obvious lack of friends, but bottling it up is taking its toll

"What did you say?"

"Um…"

Tori lightly kicks his trainer with her boot.

"I spilled my guts on this bench. Your turn."

With a huffed laugh, Nick kicks her back. Several metres away, Olly and Nellie are playing tug of war with a stick.

"Fine, fine, I'll talk. Well, I told him it's going well." He laughs again—this time a self-deprecating bark.

"I'm guessing that's not true," Tori says, apparently not pulling any punches.

Nick sighs. "No, it fucking isn't."

"Nick, why aren't you friends with the lads? I heard you were like, the Rugby King last year."

"Oh, God." Does he really want to tell Tori why the rugby team can't stand him? He doesn't want to come off seeming like he's trying to be some hero, when really he just couldn't stand seeing someone get bullied like that. "Your turn to keep a secret, I guess."

Tori mimes zipping her lips, and as directed, Nick spills his guts.

"You know how—you know how Charlie's bullying got really bad and then all of a sudden it stopped?"

She squints in confusion. "Uh, yeah?"

"That was me. I stopped it. I hated seeing the lads treat him like that. I regularly tried to discourage them, but they always brushed me off. One day I snapped and told them if they didn't stop bullying Charlie, I was quitting the team. They knew they couldn't win without me, so I basically blackmailed them into leaving Charlie alone. And now they just…it's not been a great start to the term." Nick trails off, not meeting Tori's eyes, too nervous to see her reaction.

She's quiet for a long moment, and then, to his surprise, she lunges herself at Nick, wrapping her arms around his neck. Cautiously, he hugs her back, gently placing his hands on the middle of her back.

"Thank you," Tori whispers into the fabric of his jumper.

"I just did what anyone would do," Nick mumbles, embarrassed by her gratitude.

Pulling back, Tori rolls her eyes, and Nick can see they're misty. "Shut up, Nick. Obviously no one else did what you did." She punches him lightly on the shoulder. "Jesus," she says, wiping roughly at her eyes.

They sit quietly for a few minutes, watching Olly and Nellie roughhousing in the grass. Nellie barks excitedly and playfully tackles Olly, knocking him off his feet with a joyous squeal.

"I'm glad we're friends," Tori says, so quietly that it's almost carried off on the wind.

Even as the evening breeze rushes over them, Nick feels a warmth in his chest.

"Me too," he replies. Tori is the last person he would have expected to make friends this year, but somehow, their friendship works, and he's extremely grateful. Nick smiles to himself. Maybe they used trauma dumping as a way to make a quick connection, but he doesn’t mind.

They sit in comfortable silence for a while, but eventually, Olly and Nellie come tearing across the field. They wipe out together in front of Nick and Tori—all smiles.

"Nellie is my BEST FRIEND!" Olly announces.

Nick chuckles. "Oh yeah?"

"YES! She told me!"

"Alright, little man," Tori says, "We should get home for dinner."

Olly pouts, but when his stomach growls, he bursts out laughing.

"Can I play with Nellie again soon?" he asks Nick.

Grinning, Nick ruffles Olly's curls. "Of course, kid."

As they part ways, Nick smiles, watching Tori and Olly walking hand in hand down the pavement. He has a feeling he and Nellie are about to become regulars in the lives of the Spring family.