Chapter Text
If Nick were a little more observant, he might have noticed that the front door was already unlocked when he tried to use the key.
As it was, he was on his way home from a particularly grueling practice, and was more focused on how excited he was to crawl into the shower. His headphones blast his workout playlist as he swings through the entryway and into the kitchen, scooping fresh ice into his bottle and filling it with cold water from the sink. As he raises it to his mouth and starts to drink deeply, he turns and realizes there’s someone else in the kitchen.
He promptly chokes.
“Oh, fuck, I’m sorry--” He wipes the water from his mouth and tries to straighten up.
The boy stood a few feet away, clutching desperately onto a cluster of silverware, his eyes wide with what looked like terror. His mouth opens and shuts again.
Nick is suddenly painfully aware that he’s drenched in sweat and dressed like an idiot in joggers and a tank top. This was not the first impression he’d wanted to make on his new roommate.
“I’m Nick,” he introduces, wiping his hand on his pants before offering it to the boy, who looked at it like it might bite him.
“Charlie,” the boy murmurs, his cheeks bright red. He shakes his hand with a soft grip.
Nick’s eyebrows furrow. “When did you get in? I would have been around to help out if I’d known you were coming today.” He casts a glance around the apartment, and sure enough, there are boxes on the counter and in the hallway.
“Just a couple hours ago,” Charlie says. “I was actually just looking for where you’ve put the silverware.”
Nick turns and pulls open the drawer beside him. “It’s all in here, for the most part. I put the plates and cups over there, above the stove,” he gestures. “There’s definitely a lot of space, so feel free to take it up. I really don’t mind sharing dishes and stuff, if you’re comfortable, but if not I can keep using my stuff.”
Charlie nods, carefully sorting his forks into the drawer. “That makes sense. I’m good with sharing too, as long as you wash it after.” He looks at Nick. “When did you move in, then?”
Nick sips at his water again (attempting not to spill any more of it all over himself). “A couple weeks ago. I got permission to move in early because I had to start rugby practices.”
Charlie’s face is hard to read. “You’re on the rugby team, then? The university one?”
A wry smile works at Nick’s mouth. “That’s the one. I just came from practice, actually, I’m not usually this sweaty.” Charlie breathes out of his nose in a laugh.
“Well, that’s good to know.”
Nick isn’t sure how to answer that, or what else to say, so he starts to back out of the kitchen. “Well, I’ll get out of your way then. I’m going to take a shower but shout if you need anything.”
Charlie nods and smiles awkwardly before turning to continue unpacking the box on the counter.
🍂🍂🍂
The following two weeks are just a little awkward.
Nick and Charlie make small talk, sometimes. He learns the basics; that Charlie’s a first year (he doesn’t ask why Charlie’s living in an apartment as a first year, but catalogs it away for later), studying English lit, and that he already seems to have some friends at the university.
Charlie does fill up the apartment a little more nicely than Nick had. There are ceramic mugs in the cabinets (Nick had only brought his mug with his initials on it), and a quilted throw blanket tossed over the couch. He has a proper shoe stand by the door, although Nick’s black Vans and rugby cleats look a little sad next to Charlie’s stacks of colorful Converse. His face wash and toothpaste are usually lying on the bathroom counter, but Nick doesn’t mind the clutter; he actually enjoys feeling a little less lonely in the apartment, like it’s more lived in.
They orbit each other like planets, never colliding. Nick doesn’t use the kitchen if Charlie’s already in there, and if Charlie comes home while Nick is in the living room, he usually pauses for a quick conversation before he rushes into his room again. They do both keep a tidy apartment, though, which Nick is grateful for. It’s really all he can ask.
About a week into the start of term, Nick stays home on a Friday night. He’d been invited out with some acquaintances from the team, but hadn’t really been feeling it. He rarely was, to be honest.
This means that he’s sitting on the couch playing the Switch at midnight when Charlie stumbles through the door and trips quite dramatically into the wall.
“Oh fuck, Charlie,” a feminine voice follows. “At least take your shoes off before you track mud inside--” the voice halts as Nick glances up from Switch, pausing the game and taking in the scene.
Charlie, obviously quite hammered, is leaning against the counter, trying to toe his shoes off without untying them first. There’s a goofy grin plastered across his face. In the doorway stands a girl with her arms crossed, frowning good naturedly at him.
“Is he okay?” Nick asks.
They both look at Charlie, who is now fumbling with the laces of his shoes while simultaneously trying not to lose his balance (it isn’t going well). “He’s fine. Had a few too many at movie night.” As she speaks, Charlie loses his balance and topples to the floor, although he seems unfazed and continues with the arduous task of untying his shoelaces.
“I’m Nick.” He stands, although he’s not sure what to do after that.
The girl smiles. “Elle. It’s nice to meet you—”
“Elllllllle!” Charlie giggles up at her from the floor. “I got my shoes off, look.”
She sighs. “Yes, you did, Charlie. Are you ready for bed?”
He frowns, wrinkling his eyebrows. “Do I have to? I thought we were going to watch a movie.”
Elle laughs. “We already watched a movie, remember? We just left Tao’s.” Her next sentence is directed at Nick. “Where are your cups? Can I get him a glass of water?”
“Yeah, of course,” Nick takes a step forward. “Cabinet above the stove. There’s ice in the freezer, too.”
“Brilliant.” She drifts into the kitchen, heeled boots clicking, as Charlie starts to move as if he’s going to try to stand.
“Woah, Charlie,” Nick starts, rushing forward to help him. “Be careful.”
Charlie laughs again as he slots his hands into Nick’s. He barely weighs anything, so Nick pulls him up easily and helps him into one of the chairs at the kitchen counter. Elle slides the glass of water towards him, but Charlie ignores it.
“Nick!” His eyes gleam with the haze of alcohol and happiness. Nick hadn’t realized they were blue, before, but it’s obvious now as they sparkle. “We had this lemon vodka and it was so good, oh my God, and Darcy and I were teammates in this drinking game and we did so badly but it’s okay because it was so fun!”
Elle snorts. “There was no drinking game. They just like to get into trouble.” Nick laughs at that. Charlie doesn’t hear, because he’s occupied himself with gulping down the water.
“What movie did you guys watch?” Nick asks Elle, as she helps herself to some water as well.
She rolls her eyes. “Ugh, The King’s Speech. Our friend Tao made us watch it and it was so boring.”
Nick laughed. “My mum likes that one. Colin Firth, right?”
A dramatic gasp came from Charlie’s side of the kitchen. “Oh my God, Colin Firth is so fit! He could hit any day and I mean that. ”
Nick shoves down his initial surprise. He and Charlie hadn’t talked about it, but he had thought he noticed a rainbow flag in Charlie’s room on the day he moved in. Elle just laughs.
Nick’s about to ask if Charlie will need paracetamol or anything when he leans back in his chair and goes “Woah, the room is spinning.”
“Oh, shit.” The concern is immediately evident in Elle’s voice. “Charlie, are you going to throw up?”
Charlie’s still smiling when he lurches towards the bathroom.
Elle follows after him quickly. Nick feels awkward listening to the sound of loud puking and Elle’s reassurances, so he busies himself turning off the television and cleaning up evidence of the night. He sets the bottle of paracetamol on the counter, just in case.
When he’s done all he can to clean up, he hovers in the doorway to the bathroom. Charlie is sprawled in front of the toilet, with his elbows propping his head off the seat. Elle sits on the side of the tub, rubbing his back and offering him a capful of mouthwash. It’s Nick’s mouthwash, but he doesn’t say anything as Charlie tries to toss it back and, instead of swishing it around, just swallows it.
“Oh my god, Charlie, it’s not a shot!” Elle sounds like she’s trying to be stern but she can’t hold back her laughter when she looks back at Nick. He tries his best not to join, but the way that Charlie tossed back the mouthwash was too good.
“He’ll be fine,” Elle promises, still rubbing Charlie’s back. “He’s always a one-and-done when he drinks. He just probably needs to sit here a bit longer and then I can get him to bed.”
Nick frowns. “It’s getting pretty late, are you going to be able to get home safely?”
“Oh yeah, I can call an Uber, I’ll be okay.” Her hand shifts up, running through Charlie’s curls. He leans affectionately into her touch and something in Nick’s stomach gives a little bit. He can’t remember the last time he was touched like that, with so much love clear behind it.
He’s unconvinced, but nods anyway. “In that case, do you want me to take over? Otherwise it’ll probably be super late when you get home.”
She hesitates. “Are you sure? I wouldn’t normally leave but I left Tao puking in the communal bathroom at the dorm and I should probably make sure the rest of them are not causing any more chaos than they usually do.”
“Yeah, he’s in good hands.” Nick smiles. “Roommate bonding time, if anything.”
“Right,” Elle says. She leans forward to speak quietly to Charlie. “I’m going to go check on the others, but call me if you need anything, okay? Nick’s going to make sure that you get to bed.”
Charlie groans and mumbles a reply, leaning his head against the wall. She pats his check fondly and spends a minute ordering the Uber before standing from the edge of the tub. “Do you have a clean washcloth? I was thinking maybe putting some cold water on his forehead might help.”
“Oh, yeah.” Nick fumbles in the cabinet next to the sink, where he knows his mum tucked some washcloths that he had not touched since move-in. He offers a blue one to Elle and she soaks it in the sink before pressing it delicately to Charlie’s forehead. He groans again, his eyes shut.
“S’bright in here,” he says.
“Okay babes, we’ll turn the lights off and I’m going to head out, okay? Text me when you wake up.” Charlie nods distractedly, his eyes still squeezed closed.
Nick walks Elle out to her Uber, and makes her take his number so that she can text him once she’s arrived safely at the dorm. It’s only a few blocks away, but he’s heard enough stories about campus to know you can never be too careful.
When Nick heads back inside, the apartment is quiet. Charlie is still in the bathroom with the lights off. He carefully takes Elle’s spot on the side of the bathtub.
“How are you feeling?” Nick asks.
Charlie groans. “My head is still spinning.”
The light from the hallway allows for Nick to just make out the contours of his face, scrunched with discomfort. He takes the washcloth that Elle had left on the bathroom counter and soaks it again with water, squeezing the excess in the sink before trailing it over Charlie’s forehead.
“That feels good,” he hums.
Nick laughs under his breath. “Yeah?”
“I’m never going to drink again.”
“That makes sense.”
“This is all Ben’s fault.”
That makes Nick freeze. He lowers the washcloth. “Ben?”
“He texted me,” Charlie moaned. “He only wants to see me when he’s drunk.” He angles his head in such a way that Nick can no longer make out his features. “I can’t believe I thought we were going to be boyfriends.”
Nick shuffles his feet, unsure of what to say. Charlie keeps going. “I mean, it’s not Ben’s fault, it’s my fault for being a proper idiot. I should never have gotten involved with a closeted guy in the first place— not that there’s anything wrong with being closeted, it’s just that I should have known that I wanted more than to just be someone he made out with after parties, you know? He wanted to keep us a secret and not in a nice way. Not in a way that’s, you know,” Charlie gestures vaguely. “A way that’s okay.”
Nick makes an affirming noise in the back of his throat, and continues to wipe at Charlie’s forehead as he shifts to lean against the bathtub, next to Nick’s knees.
“Well,” he starts when it seems Charlie has finished. He can see in the faint glow that his eyes are shut, now. “Ben sounds like a dick. And you deserve better.”
Charlie’s eyes open. The shine is dimmer now, but still there, and he’s looking right at Nick. “You think so?”
Nick smiles. “I know so.”
Charlie leans forward and retches into the toilet again.
🍂🍂🍂
The next morning is only a slightly awkward affair. Nick is fixing lunch after his post-practice shower when Charlie stumbles into the kitchen, a blanket fully drawn over the top of his head and covering his whole body. His face peeks out through a tiny hole in the front like he’s in an astronaut suit.
He makes eye contact with Nick, and his face rapidly disappears as he covers it with a groan. Nick starts to laugh.
“How bad was I last night?”
“Not that bad,” Nick promises, spreading mayonnaise on one half of the bread. “Just a little talkative and pukey. All good things, I swear.”
Charlie groans even louder. “I am so, so sorry.”
“You don’t have to be!” Nick promises. “Have a seat and I’ll make you a sandwich. Is ham and cheese okay? Did you take paracetamol?” He can practically hear Sarah Nelson in his words.
Charlie nods and sits down, laying his head on the blanket. “I didn’t mention... Ben... did I?” His voice is tinged with all sorts of regret.
Nick sets the sandwich that was supposed to be his in front of Charlie. “Only a little. Enough for me to know that he sounds like a proper dick-nozzle.”
He laughs. “Yeah, you’d be right about that.” The smile fades from his face as quickly as it had arrived. “I’m sorry, I probably should have told you about...” He trails off.
“About?” Nick prompts, turning to face him and leaning against the counter.
Charlie won’t meet his eyes. “Me being, y’know, gay. I should have been more transparent about it but I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable but it probably made you more uncomfortable that I didn’t say anything, and I am so sor—”
“Charlie,” Nick interrupts. “I promise that I do not mind that you’re gay.” He says it sternly and Charlie finally meets his eyes, nodding slowly. “Okay?”
A small smile lights Charlie’s face. His dimples are visible as he picks the sandwich off the plate and takes a bite. “Okay.”
“Besides,” Nick says as he turns around. “I saw your rainbow flag on move-in day. And the blasting Lady Gaga in the shower gave it away.”
Charlie chokes. “I do not blast Lady Gaga in the shower, you—”
His sentence dies as he realizes that Nick’s shoulders are shaking with laughter.
“It’s Taylor Swift, thank you very much,” Charlie says indignantly. The next sentence is muffled through the sandwich. “Very rude, Nick Nelson.”
After that, they’re friends.
🍂🍂🍂
Later that week, Nick can’t sleep.
It happens every term, so he isn’t surprised. Once he starts having proper homework assignments, and rugby practices get earlier and earlier in the morning, he never sleeps. Nothing helps— not melatonin, or counting sheep. He even tried ASMR, once (the whispers made him uncomfortable, so he stopped that experiment rather quickly).
He grows used to the dark circles. It’s the sort of exhaustion that seeps into his bones, the kind that he needs to hide from his mother so that he doesn’t have to hear her soft “Oh, Nicky”, as she realizes just how bad it’s gotten.
It’s three in the morning and he’s in the middle of hunting through the freezer for the bag of pizza rolls when the light flickers on and he hears a loud scream from behind him.
“AH!” Nick cries out, whipping around. The pizza rolls go flying. He’s met with Charlie, frantically gripping onto the handle of a broom. “Mate, what the fuck?”
“I thought we had an intruder!” Charlie’s eyes are wild with panic. “I didn’t hear you leave your room!”
Nick sighs and wipes his face, grabbing the bag of pizza rolls off the floor. “I was in the living room.”
Charlie casts a glance to the couch, where there’s a Nick-shaped imprint in the blanket and an open laptop. “Oh.” His chest slowly stops heaving.
Nick takes a moment to fully absorb the scene: Charlie, in fuzzy pajama pants and an oversized jumper, holding onto their broom like his life depends on it. He can’t help but laugh. “And what, exactly, were you going to do with that as your weapon?”
Charlie straightens up crisply. “I was going to... you know... whack the intruder over the head with it! Or something,” he mutters.
Nick looks the broom up and down as if appraising it. “Charlie,” he says. “I could snap that broom handle in half without even trying.”
There’s an unmistakable flicker of Charlie’s eyes to Nick’s biceps before he turns to lean the broom against the wall. “Whatever,” he says. Nick thinks he catches the glimpses of a blush across his cheeks. “Why are you up, anyway? It’s half-two.”
“I can’t sleep,” Nick admits, starting to carefully plate his snack. “Want some pizza rolls?”
Charlie smiles. “Sure.”
The rest of the night unfolds peacefully. When Nick settles back into his crease of the couch and pulls his laptop into his lap, Charlie wordlessly disappears to his room and materializes again with his blanket drawn around his shoulders and a stack of books in his hand. When Nick raises an eyebrow, he just shrugs cheerily. “I have a lot of work to do. Might as well work out here if you’re going to be up!”
They sit in silence for the rest of the night. Charlie puts on these massive over-the-ear headphones and visibly disappears into some sort of zone, drumming his fingers on the pages of his textbook while frantically writing and erasing things in the margins. Nick resumes his history readings and can’t hold back his smile. It’s been a long time since he’s had a friend to just exist in the same space as him. He had forgotten how nice it felt.
At five, Charlie returns to his bedroom with tired eyes. “Get some rest, okay?”
Nick nods, although he knows he won’t. “Okay. Goodnight, Charlie.”
Charlie rubs his eyes, his voice raspy with exhaustion. “G’night.” He totters back down the hallway— the blanket looks like it weighs as much as he does.
Half an hour later, Nick rises and gets dressed for rugby practice at six.
He’ll sleep later, maybe.
🍂🍂🍂
Nick hasn’t had a good friend in a long time, but he’s thinking that Charlie is rapidly becoming one.
If he notices that Nick doesn’t do much outside of rugby and sitting around the apartment, he graciously doesn’t say anything about it. He does seem to have a nice group of friends, however— he disappears every Friday for movie nights (although he doesn’t return from any of them stumbling drunk again). He rarely brings any of them over, although Nick sometimes comes home to see an extra pair of shoes by the door and hears laughter resonating through the walls. It makes him smile, although it intensifies his loneliness by a thousand.
He masks this loneliness by drowning himself in schoolwork. He ends up sleeping mostly throughout the day, catching quick naps in between classes rather than going to bed at a decent time.
His nighttime insomnia rages on. If Charlie notices this, he also doesn’t say anything.
Living with Charlie makes life so much better— it’s nice to have a friend around. They settle into weird little routines, like how Charlie starts picking up his favorite orange soda when he swings by the corner store on his way home from class, and how Nick lights all of Charlie’s favorite candles and makes sure the fairy lights are turned on as soon as the sun sets because he knows Charlie prefers that to the normal overhead lights. He’s started hanging around the kitchen when Charlie cooks, because he can’t always reach items on the top shelf, and there’s something that tickles his chest whenever he gets to stretch his arm up and easily grab whatever Charlie has been flailing for. Whenever he picks up heavy things for him (not that Charlie can’t pick them up, as he always insists), or delivers a cup of tea to his door when he’s working hard, Charlie blushes, and it settles something nicely in Nick’s heart.
More often than not, they spend nights in the living room together. Sometimes, they watch TV (Charlie makes him watch both Frozen movies, and as much as he doesn’t want to be interested, they are much better than expected), and sometimes they just work in silence and enjoy each other’s company. Whenever Nick inevitably gets hungry and goes to grab a snack from the kitchen, he always makes Charlie a plate. Whenever Charlie goes to refill his water, he grabs Nick’s water bottle to check if it needs to be filled, and if it doesn’t seem like Nick’s drinking enough, he gets a brief scolding as Charlie reminds him that “people who don’t drink water turn into dust when they die and that is not a pleasant way to go”. Although Nick knows it isn’t true, it always makes him laugh.
One night, Charlie begins to pack up his books and glances across the coffee table at Nick. He heaves a sigh, which makes Nick draw his eyes away from his reading.
“What’s up?” He asks, tilting his head in concern at Charlie.
“Do you—” Charlie pauses, as if evaluating how he’s going to say what he’s thinking. “Are you happy here, Nick?”
Nick frowns. “Of course, I’m happy, why wouldn’t I be?” His initial instinct is to shove the question away, to not really answer it, but as he meets Charlie’s soft eyes, he realizes that isn’t an option. To shove the question away would be to shove Charlie away, and Charlie’s the best thing to happen to him in awhile. He’s never had a friend like this.
“I mean,” Charlie presses on, nervously fidgeting with a fraying thread in his sock. “I just wonder if you sometimes get lonely here.”
Nick feels the sadness shift in his gut, the same sadness he’s been trying to ignore for the last several months. Charlie’s looking at him so earnestly, waiting for his answer, that he can’t help but try to be honest. It’s the kind of honesty that only spills out past three in the morning.
“It can be a little lonely, sometimes,” he starts. “I mean, I’m friends with the rugby lads a little bit, but in grammar school I thought I was really close with the people on my team and it turns out that they, uh, weren’t really great people or good friends, and the whole time I thought that they were.” Charlie nods, so Nick continues. “I guess I just don’t really hang out with anyone here because I don’t want that to happen again. I’d rather be alone than have a bunch of shitty friends, you know?”
Charlie frowns. “But you don’t have to be alone, you know? So many people would be so lucky to be your friend.”
He smiles. “I know. I always mean to make friends, in my classes and stuff, but then I kind of... forget, you know?” Charlie tilts his head, questioning. “I guess I just always feel like I’m making friends or like I’m trying my best, but I’m a lot shyer than I was in grammar school. I had a lot of really loud, popular friends who kind of did all that stuff for me and now I’m not sure how to do it on my own. To be honest,” he meets Charlie’s eyes, “you’re the best friend I’ve made here.”
He can feel himself flushing with embarrassment, his eyes suddenly hot with tears, but Charlie covers his hand from across the table. “I’m glad to be your friend, Nick.” He squeezes. “But I really think you should put yourself out there. Maybe hanging out with the rugby lads wouldn’t be so bad? I mean—” He shudders dramatically. “I can’t believe I just said that, but I’m sure some of them are alright. Or, I could even introduce you to my friends if you want. All we do is sit around Tao’s room and watch movies, but I think you would really like them.”
Nick can’t help but smile at the excitement in Charlie’s voice. “I can try. I probably should try, to be honest.”
“Good.” Charlie nods, clearly satisfied with himself. “Honestly, it makes sense that you were popular in grammar school. Probably Head Boy and all that too, right?”
Nick ducks his head. “Maybe.”
“I knew it!” Charlie cries out, pointing at him with the tip of his pencil. “Nicholas Nelson, Head Boy!”
“Oh God, I’m going to regret telling you that, aren’t I?” He leans back, rubbing his eyes.
“You definitely are.” Charlie giggles.
Nick straightens up, determined to flip the tables. “And what were you like in school? Probably one of those popular artsy kids, right? I can picture you now, playing guitar in the hallways or something and always fighting off a crowd of fans.” He can’t help but smile at the image of Charlie in grammar school.
He knows immediately that he’s made a mistake, however, when Charlie lowers his eyes to the table and clears his throat uncomfortably. “No, actually, er, I was rather unpopular in school.” Then, in a half-hearted attempt at a joke, although his laugh is a little too wet to be mistaken for a real one, “And I played the drums, not the guitar.”
Nick swallows. “Oh.”
“Yeah.” Charlie won’t meet his eyes. “Honestly, I think that’s why I worry about you. I see you doing the same stuff I did in grammar school after I got outed— I always kept to myself and told everyone I was fine, but I wasn’t. I’m still not really comfortable in hypermasculine settings because, you know, the bullying was pretty bad, afterwards.”
Nick feels the crackle of flames in his stomach. He frowns. “You were outed? Like, you didn’t get to come out on your own?”
Charlie laughs again, but it sounds miserable. He still won’t look up from where he’s picking at the edge of his notebook paper. “Yeah. Happened in Year Nine. I mean, thankfully I had some friends with me, so that really helped, but boys are just awful at that age, you know?”
“Yeah,” Nick says, although he doesn’t know. The idea of someone bullying Charlie, one of the sweetest souls he’s ever met, isn’t even something he can begin to wrap his head around. “I’m so sorry that happened to you. No one deserves that.”
Charlie sniffles, just a little. “It’s okay. It’s why I’m in the apartment, actually, instead of the dorms— had to get a letter from my therapist and everything.” Nick remembers how Charlie had touched him for comfort earlier, and looks to see if his hand is still stretched out, if he might be able to return the favor, but Charlie has shrunken into himself.
“It’s also why I was so excited when that guy Ben was interested in me,” he continues. “No one ever had been. I was so excited, you know, to make out and to have all the normal university experiences, but, uh, it turns out boys are rather horrible at this age too.”
“Ben’s a right knob.” That got a laugh out of Charlie, a genuine one. He finally looked up at Nick, his eyes glimmering with tears. “You deserve the world, Charlie, and it’s going to come to you, okay?” Nick is fully borrowing language from his mum, and he’s not sure where it comes from, but it seems to make Charlie feel better. He wipes at his eyes carefully and shuts his notebook.
“Right, then, that’s enough tears for tonight.” He smiles at Nick and squeezes his shoulder as he rises from the couch. “Promise to go to bed soon?”
Nick nods. “I promise.”
Fifteen minutes later, Nick tucks himself into bed. Sleep doesn’t come easily, but it does come.
🍂🍂🍂
Nick is laying on the couch, his eyes peacefully shut, when he feels the sudden prod of a finger into his cheek.
“Psst, Nick!” A stage whisper follows as the finger continues to poke his cheek. “Is it time to go to bed?”
He brushes the finger away and covers his eyes with his forearm. “Mm, no. Can’t sleep.”
Charlie sighs exasperatedly. It’s just after midnight, which is earlier than usual for Nick to have abandoned his studying, and instead of playing a phone game or something, he’s elected to just lay on the couch next to Charlie, who is peacefully annotating his book. His eyes had drifted shut, but he wasn’t tired at all, just enjoying the sound of Charlie’s gentle page turning and the faint sound of drums emitting from his headphones. How Charlie could possibly read with all of that noise going on, Nick has no idea.
“Are you sure? You seem tired.”
Nick looks up at him. He looks silly from this angle, almost upside-down, but he can still see his dimples, as deep as ever. “I’m always tired, Char, haven’t you noticed?”
Charlie pokes his cheek again. “Char?” His voice is both curious and mischievous.
Nick freezes. “I don’t know where that came from.” He immediately starts to panic. Is it weird to call him by a nickname? Is it just because he’s tired? He really isn’t sure where it came from, and he’s never really called anyone by a nickname before—
His anxiety is broken up with the sound of Charlie’s laughter. “I think it’s cute.” The finger descends as if it’s going to poke him again and Nick swats it away, groaning.
“S’not cute, I’m a very serious person.” Nick turns to face into the couch, his eyes still shut.
“Seriously, Nick, should you go to bed? I feel like you don’t sleep much.” The concern that paints Charlie’s voice is not subtle.
Nick sighs, and shifts back to face Charlie. Maybe it’s time to finally face the music. “I don’t sleep much during the school year,” he admits. “I get tired sometimes, but I can never actually sleep. I usually just end up taking a lot of naps during the day instead of actually sleeping at night. It’s why I’m always up so late.”
“Nick.” He can hear the frown in Charlie’s voice, so he keeps his eyes shut. “How long has this been going on?”
He sighs. “Since last year, maybe? It’s normal. Just name-brand insomnia, you know?” His palms scrub over his eyes.
“Is there anything that helps?”
“Not really,” he says. Charlie sighs. There’s so much sighing occurring tonight, Nick thinks. He’s not a fan of it.
It’s his turn to poke a finger into the spot where Charlie’s dimples should be. “Don’t worry about me, Char, okay?” He lets the nickname slip out again if only to see Charlie start to smile. “I’m all good.”
“Okay,” Charlie warily agrees. “Are you done with work for tonight?”
Nick turns to look at his open laptop. “Yeah, I’ll be fine.” His eyes slide to Charlie’s book. “What are you reading?”
Charlie turns it so that the cover faces him, revealing a dark silhouette of a woman reading a book. “Northanger Abbey, it’s for my English class.”
“Oh, my mum loves Jane Austen!”
Charlie laughs. “You always talk about how much your mum likes stuff. It’s cute.”
Nick can’t help but start to blush at that. It’s a little embarrassing to be called out on always talking about his mum. “She and I are just really close, you know? I’m lucky.” Charlie hums in understanding. “She used to read Austen to me before I went to bed. Said she wanted me to learn what real gentlemen were like.”
Charlie snorts. “She did a bang-up job.”
“Hey!” Nick pushes Charlie’s shoulder, although he’s got an awkward angle from where he lays on the couch, and there isn’t much force behind it. “I’m a gentleman, thank you very much.”
“Yeah, do gentlemen leave dirty socks on the bathroom floor? I didn’t think so.”
Nick frowns. “That was one time! ” He can’t hold the frown for long, and soon joins Charlie in his laughter. When it dies down, they’re silent for a moment. Nick delicately traces the pattern of the couch cushion with his finger.
Then, “D’you want me to read to you?” Charlie’s voice is quiet, almost shy. “I can, if you’re going to try to sleep. I have a couple chapters left in tonight’s reading.”
Nick thinks about it for a moment before he shifts on the couch to get more comfortable. The top of his head pushes just slightly into Charlie’s thigh. “Sure. I mean, if you don’t mind. I probably won’t fall asleep, though.”
“That’s okay,” Charlie says. “I focus better when I read out loud, anyway.” He removes the headphones from around his neck, setting them on the side table before he picks up his book and resumes from where he had left off.
“The dancing began within a few minutes after they were seated; and James, who had been engaged quite as long as his sister, was very importunate with Isabelle to stand up...”
Charlie’s voice is low and sweet, and Nick sinks deeper into the couch, shutting his eyes and letting the sound of it wash over him. He interrupts a few times to get background context, but as the story progresses, his comments grow fewer and farther between.
By the time Charlie reaches the end of the second chapter, Nick is fast asleep.