Chapter Text
The sound of their feet on the linoleum echoes and Charlie fidgets with the sleeves of his hoodie as they walk through the shopping centre, his fingers constantly tugging at the fabric. It's a nervous habit, one he's never quite shaken. Nick's next to him, talking about something—probably rugby or what colour tie he should wear to prom—but he's only half listening. He feels a bit guilty about it, because Nick's so obviously enthusiastic, but Charlie's mind is somewhere else. Maybe it's still in Paris, stuck on that moment when Nick took his hand in front of everyone and didn't let go. That was almost a week ago, it's still living rent free in his brain.
It’s such a small thing, really, when you actually think about it—just holding hands (he's choosing to ignore that it's also associated with Nick admitting he'd been the one to give him that love bite, because focusing on their hands feels safer). But for Charlie, even just the simple gesture feels monumental. Like the ground shifted beneath his feet. Nick had just done it , with minimal hesitation, in front of all those people. For the first time, Charlie had felt truly seen, like their relationship wasn't something to hide anymore. It felt like being free. And now here they are, walking through The Pentagon just outside of Rochester, trying to find something decent for Nick's Year 11 prom.
Prom. Together. As a couple. Out.
It still doesn't feel entirely real. It's too much, too soon, too good. The longer things keep being so good, the more he keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop, for someone to say something or for things to go wrong. But they haven't. There'd been some unsavoury comments on Instagram, but Tara had given them a heads up for that, and those were easier (sort of) to brush off with the click of the 'delete' button.
Charlie glances sideways at his boyfriend (will he ever get sick of using that word??), who's now rattling on about suit styles, and there's this little tug in his chest. It's like Nick doesn't even care about what anyone else might think. He just wants to go to prom with his boyfriend, like it's the most normal thing in the world. And maybe it is, or maybe it should be. But for Charlie? It's a mix of excitement and the constant hum of anxiety that he can't quite shake.
Nobody's been outwardly horrible since their relationship went public—at least, not in person—but the looks, the whispers when they run into someone from Truham or Higgs... that's enough to make Charlie's skin crawl. He doesn't want to be the centre of attention. He never asked for that. All he wants is to be able to hold Nick's hand without feeling like it's a fucking statement , without feeling like the world's watching.
But maybe that's too much to ask for.
Nick suddenly stops talking, his eyes lighting up as they pass a suit shop. Charlie sighs, pretending he's not just as invested in making sure they both look good. It's not about making some grand entrance at prom or having all eyes on them. God, no. But if people are going to be looking, they might as well look good. It's the principle of the thing.
Prom with Nick, Charlie thinks again. It's thrilling, but also terrifying. Because even if everything feels normal right now, a part of him wonders if they're pushing their luck. What if it's too much for people? What if—?
"I meant it, Nicholas," Charlie says, cutting off his own spiralling thoughts. They'd last for hours if he didn't nip it in the bud now. "We can't wear matching suits. That's like... peak cringe."
Nick grins, his eyes crinkling at the corners in that way that always makes Charlie's heart flutter. "Alright, no matching suits. But that doesn't mean we can't coordinate. Like, I dunno, your tie could match my pocket square or something?"
He snorts, trying to hide how much he loves that Nick's actually considering wearing a pocket square like something out of an old timey film. "Fine. But nothing too cheesy. I still have a reputation to protect."
Reputation. Right. As if he's got anything left of that after the past two years. But Nick just laughs and elbows him lightly, and for a second, everything feels easy again.
"You're so full of shit," Nick says, and Charlie can't help but smile.
Moments like this—where it's just them, laughing and teasing—are the ones Charlie clings to. They make everything feel normal, like they're just another couple wandering around a shopping centre, not two boys who have to navigate the world watching their every move. It feels like he's been hanging onto those moments more and more lately.
He takes a steadying breath. He doesn't have to pretend anymore, doesn't have to stop himself from reaching out and taking Nick's hand. He can just do it. He's about to, fingers twitching toward Nick's, when they round the corner.
And then everything stops.
Ben Hope.
Charlie freezes, his heart leaping into his throat before he can stop it. Ben. Of fucking course it's Ben. Why did it have to be him? He hasn't seen Ben since Paris, and he's been really careful to avoid him, so much so that he thought he might actually be in the clear. But of course, Ben just had to show up here, in this random shopping centre, looking smug as ever. It's like a bad joke, one of those moments where you almost have to laugh at how horrible the timing is. Why this place? Dockside seemed way more Ben's speed than here.
As much as Charlie has tried to push Ben out of his mind, pretend he doesn't exist, there's still this small part of him that flinches when Ben looks at them. God, why does he have to have that same smug expression? It makes Charlie itch, like he has to claw his way out of his own skin to get away from it. He wishes Ben would just disappear forever. Pretending he doesn't exist has been the best solution so far, but now... now Ben is right in front of them.
His eyes flicker between Charlie and Nick, and part of Charlie thinks, okay, at least Ben's not looking directly at me, that's something. But he's not a huge fan of Ben giving Nick all the attention, either. Ben's voice drips with condescension when he finally speaks. "Well, fancy that. Truham's new Golden Couple, right? At least if you ignore half the comments on your Insta post."
Charlie's blood runs cold. Why is Ben even checking the comments on Nick's instagram? Wait—of course Ben's stalking the comments. He's fucking obsessed with Charlie. That much has been clear for a while, no matter how many times Charlie's told him to piss off. It's like Ben's still clinging to something, and he can't help but feel sick thinking about it.
Nick stiffens beside him, and Charlie knows exactly how he's feeling. The hand Nick has dangling by his side twitches slightly, like he's fighting the urge to ball it into a fist. God, I know that feeling. Charlie's never been violent, but for Ben? He'd make an exception. He's starting to think maybe he should make an exception.
But then Ben keeps going. Of course he does. "You've really fallen off the hierarchy ladder, haven't you?" His voice is still dripping with that casual arrogance, the kind that makes Charlie want to smack him. "Dating Charlie Spring, of all people. That's gotta sting. I mean, what do the lads think? Or are you too busy losing friends to notice?"
What the fuck? Charlie can feel something churning in his chest—rage, fear, something —but his mind is fixating on Nick now. Nick, who's just standing there, clenched jaw, not saying anything because he doesn't want to cause a scene. Nick, who's already had to deal with Ben's bullshit during study sessions, pretending like it doesn't bother him. Nick, who doesn't deserve to be dragged into this.
And suddenly, Charlie's stepping forward, barely realising he's doing it. "You're jealous."
The words slip out before he can stop them, and Ben's smirk falters. Just for a second, but Charlie sees it. He has to stop himself from flinching again, but God , it feels sort of good to see that flicker of surprise on his face.
"What?" Ben snaps.
"You're jealous," Charlie repeats, feeling more certain now. "Because Nick's not hiding behind shitty comments and pretending to be something he's not. He's better than you in every way, and you can't fucking stand it."
Ben's face twitches, but he scoffs, trying to regain control. "Oh, right. Because you two are so perfect, aren't you?"
Charlie can feel his heart pounding away in his chest, but it's not holding any fear anymore. It's all anger. "Nick doesn't need to hurt people to deal with his own shit. Unlike you."
Ben's face twists at that, but Charlie can see the uncertainty in his eyes. He's getting to him. Charlie's heart pounds harder, but it feels different now. Like he's winning.
"You don't know anything—"
"Don't I?" Charlie nearly laughs, cutting him off. He isn't an expert on all things Ben by any means, but he'd spent more than enough time suckered into his idea of how things should be. Charlie takes another step forward, feeling something dangerous bubbling up inside him. He's over with letting Ben Hope have any kind of power over him.
"I know you wanted this," he continues, his voice sharp. "What Nick and I have. You wanted it, but you were too scared to actually take it. So you treated me like shit instead."
Ben's silence is everything Charlie needs to hear. He's right, and he knows it. But there's a darker part of him that remembers how badly Ben hurt him, how long it's taken him to even start to unravel everything that's gotten into his head as a result. He's still fucked up from it, and part of him probably always will be. The memories of what Ben put him through still sting, but right now? Charlie feels powerful . He feels like this is the moment where everything flips, where he finally gets to tell Ben exactly how it is.
"You'll never be him," Charlie says coldly, refusing to back down. "You'll never be half the person Nick is. And that's what pisses you off the most, isn't it?"
Ben opens his mouth like he's about to say something—probably something nasty again—but Charlie's done. He's so done. There's no point in dragging this out anymore. It's already sucked all the energy out of him, and Charlie would much rather go back to looking at pocket squares with Nick than waste another second on Ben Hope.
"Fuck off, Ben," his voice is steady, surprising even himself with how calm he sounds. "And leave us alone."
The words hang in the air like they've cast a spell, and for a moment, it feels like the whole shopping centre has gone silent, like the world's waiting to see what happens next. Ben stares at him, mouth slightly open, like he can’t quite believe Charlie had the nerve to say all of that.
Charlie can't quite believe it either. It feels a bit like when he'd shoved Ben at Harry's party months ago, but this? This feels like closure. Like finality.
Ben's expression twists into something ugly, his jaw clenching as he looks between Nick and Charlie. "Whatever," he mutters, turning on his heel. "You're not even worth it."
With that, Ben walks off, his footsteps loud against the tiled floor. Charlie watches him go, his heart still pounding in his chest, adrenaline buzzing under his skin. He wants to yell something after him, just to get the last word in, but he doesn't. He stays still. Breathes.
It's over. He's gone.
Charlie feels Nick's hand slip into his a second later, pulling him back from the whirlwind of emotions swirling in his head. It's like a lifeline, grounding him in the present, reminding him that Ben's words—Ben's presence —doesn't have to have the power it once did. Nick's thumb brushes softly over the back of his hand, and Charlie squeezes it in return, grateful for the solidity. It's just us now, he thinks. Ben's gone, it's just us.
"You alright?" Nick asks quietly, his voice full of that familiar concern. It wasn't even Charlie that Ben had been targeting this time, but Nick's still checking in. Of course he is. Nick's always making sure Charlie's okay, like he's still expecting some leftover hurt to bubble to the surface.
Charlie exhales slowly, feeling the adrenaline seep out of his body bit by bit. His heart is still racing, his chest tight, but it's easing. "Yeah," he says, even though it's not entirely true. His pulse is still thrumming in his ears, and honestly, he feels like he could run a marathon with how wired he is. "I'm fine. You?"
Nick smiles softly, a small but genuine expression that makes something inside Charlie relax. There's that warmth in Nick's eyes again, the kind that always makes him feel like everything's going to be alright.
"Yeah, I'm good," Nick says, and Charlie believes him.
He nods, trying to push the encounter from his mind, but his thoughts are tangled in the things Ben said. All those horrible memories come flooding back, everything Ben ever did to him, everything he thought he'd buried. He still hates how much it affects him, how quickly Ben's face can throw him back to that place. But there's something else gnawing at him too, something stronger.
Anger .
It's not really for himself this time. Charlie's dealt with Ben's shit for long enough that he's learned to shove it down. He's managed to find ways to deal with it. But seeing Ben go after Nick? Seeing him try to tear down the person Charlie loves most? That's something else entirely. That sits heavy in his chest, simmering under the surface, curling around his lungs like a fire he can't quite put out.
"Char," Nick says softly. He tugs on Charlie's hand gently. "You sure you're good? I know seeing him wasn't exactly... ideal."
Charlie bites his lip, unsure if he should admit what he's feeling. He doesn't want to lie, but he doesn't want to add to Nick's worries either. They've both been through so much already, and Nick's been nothing but supportive, always making sure Charlie's okay.
"I just... hate him," he says finally. "Not just for what he did to me—well, yeah , for that too—but more because of how he looks at you . Like he thinks you're less because you're with me. Like you're not enough."
Nick's expression melts even more, and he turns to face Charlie fully, their hands still intertwined. "He's wrong, you know."
"I know," Charlie sighs. "But it still pisses me off."
Nick's lips curl into a small smile, one that's brighter this time, like he's trying to lighten the mood. "I like it when you get mad on my behalf. It's kinda hot, actually."
Charlie rolls his eyes, but he can't help the laugh that escapes him. Leave it to Nick to turn something as horrible as Ben Hope into something that makes him laugh. "Yeah, well, don't get used to it. I'm usually the 'avoid conflict at all costs' type."
"Yeah, I know," Nick says with a chuckle of his own. "But I don't think I've ever seen you stand up to someone like that, apart from Harry at Tara's party. You were amazing."
Charlie feels his cheeks heat up. He's always been a little rubbish at taking compliments, especially when they come from Nick. "I just... I couldn't let him talk to you like that."
Nick steps a little closer, his voice dropping to a soft murmur, the kind that always sends a shiver down Charlie's spine. "You don't have to defend me, you know. I can handle myself."
"I know you can," Charlie says, meeting Nick's gaze. "But I wanted to. You shouldn't have to handle that on your own."
Nick's eyes flicker with something deep, and for a moment, Charlie can see everything he's not saying. The unspoken gratitude, the quiet relief, the care that's always there between them, humming just under the surface. Nick leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to Charlie's forehead, and Charlie feels the last of his anger melt, replaced by the feeling of Nick's lips on his skin.
"Thank you," Nick whispers.
Charlie closes his eyes, leaning into the physical affection, letting the moment settle over him. "You don't have to thank me."
"I do, though," Nick insists, pulling back to look Charlie in the eyes. "You've been through so much because of him. And then you still... you still stood up for me."
Charlie shrugs, a little embarrassed, his face burning even more. “You’d do the same for me.”
Nick’s grin returns, and there’s a playful glint in his eyes again. “Obviously. I’d probably punch him, though.”
Charlie laughs, the sound breaking through the last of the heavy feelings lingering in his chest. Everything feels lighter now, like the weight of Ben’s words has finally lifted. They’re okay. They’re always okay, because they have each other.
“Come on,” Nick says, gently tugging on Charlie’s hand. “Let’s get out of here. We still need to find our prom outfits, remember?”
Charlie groans, but there’s a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “God, don’t remind me.”
Nick laughs, and they start walking again, hand in hand, leaving Ben and all the shit he represents behind. As they pass a shop window, Charlie catches a glimpse of their reflection—Nick’s tall frame next to his, their hands intertwined, the way they just fit together.
We’ve been through worse than this , Charlie thinks, and we’ll keep going. Together.
“Hey, about that matching thing…” Nick starts, grinning mischievously.
“Absolutely fucking not,” Charlie interrupts, laughing as they disappear into the crowd.