Chapter Text
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Tao Xu told them they were participating in Secret Santa the same way he announced most things in life, with an authoritative tone, leaving no room for arguments. Luckily, his friends had known him for years and ignored him, immediately attempting to interrupt him with a combination of silly questions and groaning.
“Rules,” he said, staunchly ignoring the protests as he stood in Nick’s kitchen. “One: ten quid max. Two: no telling anyone who you have.”
Tao clicked the randomiser program on his laptop, and within a few seconds, everyone’s phones buzzed.
Nick’s screen lit up with Elfster’s message: You have: Charlie Spring!
His stomach flopped. Because Nick had a long term, gigantic, utterly pathetic crush on his best mate. Now he had to find a perfectly normal, definitely platonic gift for the cutest boy in the world. Something that doesn’t scream, I-fancy-the-pants-off-you-and-I’m-going-insane-not-knowing-what-your-kisses-taste-like.
Across the room, Charlie checked his phone and then stared at the ceiling like it had personally insulted him.
“Everyone got a name?” Tao asked.
A chorus of yeses. Nick said, “Yeah,” in a voice that he hoped sounded normal.
Later, when Nick walked Charlie home, it was drizzling just enough to soak straight through. His Vans squelched; his socks felt disgusting. None of it mattered, because he got another twenty minutes with Charlie. He was down so bad, Nick thought gloomily.
“So,” Charlie said, cutting through Nick’s spiral. The rain had made his curls droop, one perfect ringlet flopping over his forehead and covering an eye. Nick shoved his hands into his pockets so he wouldn’t reach out and fix it. “Secret Santa.””
“Yeah,” Nick said. “I guess Tao really gets off on making us miserable.”
Charlie glanced at him, mouth twitching. “Whatever, you love Christmas.”
“Do not.”
Charlie snorted. “Nicholas. You have your own Christmas tree in your bedroom.”
Nick laughed. “That’s just for Nellie and Henry! David always gives me shit for buying them presents so Gran gave me their little one when her and Grandad moved into the nursing home.”
“Yeah,” Charlie said, rolling his eyes, “You’re a real Grinch.”
They reached a stretch of pavement full of puddles. Charlie stepped around one and their shoulders brushed.
Nick’s whole body sparked, instant and stupid, as it does every time Charlie is close. He resisted the urge to grab Charlie’s hand, or lean in, or breathlessly confess his feelings.
Instead, he forced his voice into a casual tone and said, “Whoever got you is going to have a nightmare. You’re impossible to buy for.”
Charlie snorted. “Am not.”
“Name one thing you want,” Nick challenged.
Charlie’s gaze flicked to Nick’s face, before looking away and saying, “Ummm, a nap. Preferably one that lasts until January.”
Nick laughed. “Now who’s the Grinch?!”
They stopped at Charlie’s gate. The porch light caught raindrops on Charlie’s lashes. Charlie fumbled with the keys, then hesitated, his hand on the latch like he’d forgotten why he was standing there. “See you tomorrow?” Charlie asked quietly. His eyes flicked nervously over Nick’s face again before slipping away and looking down at his wet Converse.
“Yeah,” Nick said, “Tomorrow. ‘Night, Char.”
Charlie smiled, bright and dazzling, and slipped inside. Nick stood there in the drizzle, his heart doing cartwheels, thinking about the impossible task ahead buying a gift for the boy he wanted, without giving himself away.
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