CW: bullying, references to eating disorders and self-harm.

xx

Nick stays too long. Charlie knows he stays too long, but he lets him—doesn't have the willpower or maybe the self-control to turn him away. By the time Nick mumbles, "I should go," it's one in the morning, and Charlie's half-asleep on his shoulder there on the bedroom floor.

Charlie's alert enough to hear it, but not quite enough to respond. He groans sleepily and nestles in.

"My mum's going to get worried if she happens to wake up and finds that I'm not in the house. I don't want to go, but I've got to."

"Mmh."

Nick lets out a ragged sigh. "Let's get you into bed."

Carefully, so carefully, Nick snakes one arm underneath Charlie's knees, keeping the other around Charlie's shoulders. Charlie's not quite sure what's happening until Nick stands—and lifts Charlie into his arms as he does so.

It feels like heaven to be cradled against Nick's chest, but it only lasts as long as it takes Nick to cross the room and lay Charlie down in bed. He tugs the sheets free from underneath Charlie, but he hesitates—doesn't tuck them in around Charlie like Charlie's expecting. "Where does it hurt? Where on your leg?"

That gets Charlie's attention. Eyes still closed, he channels all his effort into dragging his hand up into his lap so he can tap the cuts along his inner thigh through his sweatpants. When he does, the skin stings.

Nick sighs again. Then he does something Charlie never would have imagined, never would have allowed himself to dream: he takes Charlie's hand in his to tug it out of the way, bends down, and presses his lips to the scabs.

Remind me to cut myself more often, Charlie thinks instinctively. A second later, he feels absolutely sickened with himself.

"Do you have a hideaway key so I can lock up behind me?"

"Under the shrub," Charlie slurs.

"Okay. Thanks. Well… bye, then. See you in school."

Charlie doesn't answer. He's almost asleep, and anyway, he's too busy feeling horrified by his own selfishness and insensitivity.

Nick never asked Charlie to fall for him, and he certainly never made him feel this way. He's never done a damn thing but show Charlie kindness, and this is how Charlie repays him? By making him sick with worry, enough to summon him for a one A.M. house call because he's afraid Charlie will hurt himself if he doesn't stay? Since when does Charlie get the right to weaponize his own self-destruction against one of the people who cares most about him? It's not Nick's fault he's not attracted to Charlie; that doesn't mean he doesn't love him in his own way, want to see him happy.

Charlie's never going to be able to be happy, not even for Nick's sake, is he?

His thigh is throbbing gently, like a heartbeat, like drums, but all he can feel is the pressure of Nick's lips on the other side of his pajamas, so close to Charlie's…

Shit.

xx

Nick looks worried when Charlie spots him in form the next morning. "Hey, Charlie."

"Hey."

"How's your… how are you?"

Charlie pauses. He promised himself when he fell asleep last night that he was going to do better—that he wasn't going to burden Nick with any of his shit anymore—but Nick did want him to promise to keep coming to him for these things, didn't he? And it's tempting, the idea of letting Nick in on this level. It's so tempting.

"I'm okay," he breathes. "It's okay. It hurts, but not horribly."

Nick's eyes flick down to Charlie's thigh, then back up to his face. "So listen, uh… Harry's having a party for his sixteenth birthday, and he says I can invite whoever I want. Will you go with me?"

Charlie rubs the back of his neck. "If you're just asking because you feel sorry for me—"

"It's not because I feel sorry for you."

"—or because you're worried about me—"

"It's not because I'm worried about you, either." Nick smiles faintly. "I want you to be there."

Charlie hesitates. "It doesn't really sound like my kind of thing."

"Please? I'll be with you the whole time. I won't leave you alone with any of them, I promise."

He considers it. If he were less selfish, less sick, he'd say no—but the thought of spending a whole evening with Nick is too much to pass up. Even more than that, he doesn't want to have to spend a whole evening keeping himself occupied while Nick is busy elsewhere, not when Charlie's gotten so spoiled rotten spending all his time with Nick just a text away.

"Okay," he finally relents. "Okay."

Nick beams at him.

The worst part of the party coming up is that none of Nick's rugby friends will shut up in the locker room about how Tara Jones and Imogen Heaney will be there—ostensibly, to vie for Nick's attention. Nick reacts the same way he reacts whenever Harry makes cracks at Charlie for being gay: he ignores it. Charlie doesn't really mind this, not when he focuses on how unhappy Nick looks every time anybody brings up either girl; it's almost enough to convince Charlie that he doesn't fancy either of them, that maybe he's got a shot.

Part of Charlie doesn't want to have a shot, not when he knows this can only end badly someday, and then where will he be? But there's another part, a growing part, that thinks—well, he's already in too deep with this bloke, isn't he? Getting over him is already going to suck no matter what, so why shouldn't he get to milk it, enjoy it, for a while first?

That's assuming that Nick fancies Charlie at all, which he reminds himself probably isn't the case. Nick, in Tao's words, is a massive heterosexual: Charlie hasn't got a chance in hell that Nick's interested in him.

On the bright side, he seems to have fully transferred his obsessive thoughts from Ben onto Nick. Honestly, Charlie prefers it this way. He knows it's going to get him into trouble in the end, but in the meantime, at least the person he needs so badly is someone who's actually nice to him.

He's relying a lot on his old coping mechanisms—namely, cutting instead of eating. Sickened with himself for his instinct to use it to get Nick's attention (and affection), he stops talking about it. It's funny. As much as he never really wanted anybody to know, he used to fantasize about all the people he hates finding out and feeling guilty. Now, however, the last thing he wants is for Nick to know that he couldn't stop Charlie from doing it, despite Nick's best efforts. It's better this way: Charlie gets to feel in control, and Nick doesn't have to suffer for it.

The night of the party, Dad drops Charlie off at the door with a strict 10 P.M. curfew. Charlie doesn't know most of the people at the hotel, and the ones he does, he doesn't like. He sends Nick a text but doesn't get a reply back, which isn't surprising. If Nick's here already, it's probably too loud for him to hear his phone buzzing.

It takes about twenty minutes for Charlie to find him. When they lock eyes, Nick breaks out in a broad grin and hurries over to put his hands on Charlie's arms. "I've been looking for you!"

"So have I," says Charlie. "I texted you."

"I lost my phone. Come on, it's a bit loud in here, isn't it? Race you upstairs?"

"Oh, you want to race?" Charlie grins.

They stumble one after the other across the main floor, up the steps, down the corridor, and into what looks to be a ballroom with a massive chandelier. Up here, it's quiet—too quiet. They sit against the windows, just centimeters apart. Charlie gulps.

"Did you see her?"

"Who?"

"Tara Jones?"

Nick winces. "Yes, but it's not… Harry's got it all wrong. I'm not interested in her like that."

Charlie's heart is hammering rather hard in his chest. "And Imogen?"

Nick shakes his head. "To be honest, I'm not interested in any girl like that right now."

Any girl—a glimmer of hope creeps up into Charlie's chest without his permission. He tries to squash it down. "Not in anyone, huh?"

Nick hesitates. "I didn't say that." His mouth is hanging open, and his eyes are big and wide; the whole effect makes him look—scared. Charlie thinks Nick looks scared.

Well, that's fair enough: Charlie's terrified out of his mind.

"Nick, there's… there's something I have to tell you. About me."

He's not sure what, exactly, he's building up to here: whether he's trying to tell Nick that he likes him or about the twisted way he likes him. As it turns out, he doesn't end up telling him either, at least not yet.

His phone dings.

To buy himself time, he tugs it out of his pocket and taps the push notification for the email he's just received. LOOK AT THIS! reads the subject line. The sender is Harry Greene.

His eyes scan the first few lines of the email. His chest buzzes; a hot sweat breaks out on his temples. "Nick," says Charlie slowly, "you said you lost your phone tonight, didn't you?"

Nick's eyebrows narrow. "Yeah, I did. I had it out when I first got here, but then Harry dragged me over to go talk to Tara, and I couldn't find it after we split up. I checked the couch where I'd been sitting, but it wasn't there anymore." He pauses. "Why do you ask?"

Charlie scrolls back up to the top and taps to see the full list of recipients. To put it lightly, he's not the only one.

He scrolls back down.

Well it started in September. I'd been outed not long before and he told me it was really brave of me to come out and he kissed me. At first I was just happy for the attention you know, like I didn't think anybody would ever want me like that

no shit lololol can you believe he actually fell for it?

The stupidest part is that I still love him, I can't just switch it off as much as I want to, it's been killing me trying not to text him and apologize and beg him to take me back every minute of every day and I hate myself so much for it but I

can you believe how fucking pathetic he is? HAHAHA i mean, really, it's sad. bet he wants nick to kiss it better doesn't he?

You ARE special Charlie. You're so funny. And sweet. And smart. And you can run really fast and you know more maths than I do even though you're a year below me. And I have no idea why you even hang out with me.

it almost makes you feel bad for him feeling pressured to lie like that doesn't it

You're the cool popular one and I have no idea why YOU hang out with ME. If you knew ANYTHING about how messed up I am you'd run the other direction.

can't see why he doesn't, charlie OBVIOUSLY is completely obsessed with nick

Hey I'm really sorry I know you're in bed already but are you still awake?

It was fine but I feel kind of

Can you come over? Sorry I know it's late.

so bloody needy. what do you bet he tried to use his sad puppy eyes to get nick to shag him

"Charlie," murmurs Nick, "what's wrong?"

Charlie's seen enough. Not meeting Nick's eyes, he thrusts forward the hand holding his phone. He's clenching it so tightly that Nick has to pry the thing out of his grasp.

He doesn't watch the look on Nick's face as Nick reads the email, but he can hear Nick's breaths suddenly coming in fast and choppy. "Charlie, I didn't—I had no id—this isn't—I never showed our conversations to him. I would never show them to anyone. I don't even know how he got access to these. I've never told him my phone password. I—"

"It's okay," Charlie mutters. "I believe you."

"It's not okay. Charlie—Charlie, look at me."

But Charlie won't look at him. He can't. It's not like he would ever have put something like this past Harry, but—how long has he even had his hands on Nick's phone? For his first thought to be to dig up his old texts with Charlie—for him to take the time to copy and paste so many messages into the body of an email and type commentary on them—

"Can we just forget about it?" he pleads. "Can I just be here with you and pretend for a while like this isn't happening? I can't face this, Nick. I can't. I was already a mess, but now—"

"Charlie," says Nick, pressing two fingers to the underside of Charlie's chin and trying to tilt it up, "I get the feeling that, even if we try to act like this hasn't happened, you're not going to be able to forget about it. I really, really think that we should talk about th—"

"What do you want me to say?" Charlie says numbly. "That I'm just as pathetic as Harry thinks I am? That I was in love with Ben? That I'm in love with you? Because I am, Nick, I am, and if that's going to make you run—"

"I'm not going to run."

"And why shouldn't you? I mean—" Charlie laughs a little hysterically "—you don't want my baggage. I promise you you don't. You're—popular and healthy and well-adjusted, not to mention straight, and I'm just the loser who needs people too badly. I need you too badly."

"Everybody needs people," says Nick patiently.

Charlie shakes his head. He's looking at Nick now, straight into Nick's big, earnest eyes. "Not like this. Not like I do. There's something wrong with me. I know enough to be ashamed of it, but I don't know how to stop. I don't know how to stop."

"Charlie, it's okay to depend on me. I want you to depend on me, remember?"

"I feel anxious if I go longer than an hour without talking to you," Charlie admits softly. "You're the only thing I can think about. I want us to be equals—I want to be your partner—but I've shoved you into the role of caregiver, and—"

"Charlie."

He pauses to breathe. Somehow, Nick's hands have made their way onto Charlie's cheeks. When did that happen? When did any of this happen? When did Charlie fall in love again, and why couldn't he stop it?

He knows better than this. After Ben, Charlie knows better than this.

And then—then, Nick kisses him.

He's not expecting it. He's so not expecting it that he just sits there limply for a second with his face between Nick's hands, not moving his mouth, not moving anything. He blinks. Nick pulls back, eyes open and scanning Charlie's, and Charlie—

Charlie has everything, and yet nothing, that he wanted.

"This is a terrible, terrible idea," he whispers.

Nick smiles, all for him, just for him. "Yeah," he whispers back. "Maybe."

It's happening again, Charlie thinks. It's happening all over again, after he swore to himself that he wouldn't let himself fall down again, and Nick doesn't understand—Nick's just enabling him—Nick's just a person, a beautiful and flawed person who's not going to know how to pick up Charlie's pieces when this whole mess inevitably comes crashing down around them.

This time, when Nick kisses Charlie, Charlie kisses back.

xx

A/N: I don't currently have any plans to keep writing-I've covered all the plot points I wanted to cover, and it was therapeutic to do so, and I got what I needed out of this fic. I can be persuaded otherwise, though, so let me know if there's anything specific you want to see!