2. Secret
The streets were eerily deserted, unnervingly quiet. Nick and Charlie walked toward home, their steps a little more hurried than usual. It was barely past five o'clock but the darkness seeping from the shadowed houses felt oppressive.
As they turned onto River Crescent, a sudden rustle in the bushes made them both jump. Nick instinctively reached out to push Charlie behind him but then he saw the bright yellow eyes of a tabby cat blinking up at them. The tension drained from his shoulders as quickly as it had arrived.
Charlie wound his arm tighter around Nick's and they hurried toward number thirty-four.
When the front door of Nick's house came into view, it became very clear to both of them that the very last thing they wanted to do right now was be alone.
A look of mutual understanding passed between them.
"Come on," Nick breathed and let them both into the house.
The smell of his mum's homemade lasagne wafted from the kitchen into the hall, but for once, it did not fill Nick with anything other than nausea. He dropped his school bag at the foot of the stairs and sprinted to the downstairs toilet. He barely managed to lift the lid before he threw up spectacularly into the bowl.
A cool, slender hand stroked Nick's hair back from his sweaty forehead. He hadn't realised Charlie had followed so closely behind but was glad of his presence.
Charlie kissed Nick's shoulder, and was about to start tenderly rubbing his back when he jerked quickly away. Sarah Nelson's face had appeared in the doorway.
Nick felt the loss of Charlie's touch like a physical ache.
"Nicky?" Sarah exclaimed. "What's the matter? Are you ill?" She reached out to feel his forehead, eyebrows furrowed. "You don't feel particularly warm. Did you eat something funny?"
Nick shook his head absently, wiping his mouth with his sleeve.
Why had he thrown up?
He supposed he was in shock. He knew for sure however, that he now had an absolutely rancid taste in his mouth. He was just reaching toward the sink beside him when Charlie reappeared, a glass of water in hand.
"Oh," said Sarah in surprise. Then she smiled kindly. "Hello, Charlie. I didn't realise you were coming over."
"Oh, um… sorry Mrs Nelson. I can - I can go -"
Nick swallowed his gulp of water. "No!"
Both Sarah and Charlie looked around at him in alarm. Nick had not meant to speak so loudly but honestly, the thought of being separated from Charlie right now made him feel like he was going to be sick again.
"I -"
"Nicky, are you sure you're alright?"
He took another sip of water.
"I'm - I'm fine. I just - please." Nick could hear the plea in his own voice but couldn't control it, despite the increasing concern on his mum's face. Confusion he could not appease. "Please can Charlie stay here tonight?"
Sarah sighed. "Really? On a school night? Come on, Nicky, you know better."
"Please, Mrs Nelson," Charlie spoke up. "I won't be any bother."
Sarah looked from her son sitting on the tiled floor, to the sweet boy looking down at her from the doorway. Nick wondered whether she could see the same haunted look in his eyes that he could see in Charlie's.
She sighed again but then said, "Fine. But only on the condition that you actually sleep. No talking, no video games. And make sure you let your parents know where you are, Charlie. We don't want them to worry."
"Thank you so much, Mrs Nelson."
"Hm," Sarah grimaced, amused. "Please call me, Sarah, dear."
Charlie smiled but Nick could tell it was forced. It didn't reach his eyes. Nick wondered bitterly whether that would ever happen again.
After picking their way through their lasagne, Nick and Charlie were finally able to excuse themselves to go upstairs.
Nick let Charlie use the bathroom first. Without even having to ask, Charlie's worried glance was enough to assure Nick settled himself on the floor outside the door. Nick rested his head against the wood as he listened to the sound of the shower running.
Then it was Nick's turn and Charlie took up post outside the door.
Bundled in an old set of Nick's pyjamas, Charlie sent a quick, brief text to Tori, telling her where he was and that he was spending the night. He was far too exhausted to care if she texted back, or even if she looked at it. He did know, however, that if he dared text either of his parents, he would get nothing in reply except definite refusal.
Charlie had to stay, no matter what. Nick needed him.
It wasn't even eight o'clock yet when Nick finished up in the bathroom, but he and Charlie stepped straight over the mattress Sarah had set up, and wrapped themselves up in bed.
Charlie pulled the dark blue duvet up tightly over them, making a cosy little cocoon. Nick drew him closer and Charlie wiggled backward into his embrace. They fit together perfectly; feet tangled beneath the duvet as they listened to each other breathe.
"We need to tell someone what happened," Nick whispered into the darkness. "Go to the police or something…"
"We can't." Charlie was surprised at how steady his own voice sounded. He didn't feel all that steady. "How are we meant to explain why we were even there in the first place? You'd be outed, Nick."
"We just saw three people be murdered. Do you really think I care about that right now?"
"We can't tell anyone," Charlie's voice rose suddenly in panic. "We just can't. I can't have you outed before you're ready. I just can't. I couldn't stand it -"
"Charlie…"
The hitch in Nick's voice broke through Charlie's building panic. Charlie rolled over to find that tears were once again streaming down Nick's cheeks, dampening the pillow beneath their heads. Charlie felt his own lip quiver but he had no tears left to shed.
"Shh," he whispered, softly stroking Nick's hair. It was still slightly damp from the shower. "It's okay. I'm here. We'll be okay. Shh…"
Nick pressed his head against Charlie's chest and allowed his boyfriend to rock him gently to sleep. Charlie rested his cheek against the soft blond strands of Nick's hair and closed his eyes.
The shrill tone of the alarm clock going off at seven the next morning did not do much to dent Nick and Charlie's deep, exhausted slumber.
Charlie peeled his eyes open, squinting in the morning sunlight blaring from the window. They had forgotten to draw the curtains last night.
At some point, Charlie had rolled over onto his back, but Nick was still wrapped tightly around him, head pillowed on his chest.
Charlie shifted slightly to turn off the alarm. Nick cuddled in closer, eyes clamped shut.
"Don't wanna," he mumbled sleepily.
"Me neither."
Charlie gazed down at his boyfriend, marvelling at how incredible it felt to wake up to the supposed 'Rugby King Nick Nelson' snuggled half on top of him like a cat (or, Charlie corrected himself, like a golden retriever). He kissed his messy blond head and wrapped his arms around Nick's shoulders.
Nick shifted slightly, finally opening his tired eyes enough to gaze back up at Charlie.
"G'morning."
"Morning, sleepy head."
Charlie ruffled Nick's bed head. His own hair was a mess of tangled curls. Nick longed to run his fingers through them. Instead, he satisfied himself by stretching his neck up just enough to close the gap between them and kissed Charlie so softly, so slowly, he felt it right down to his toes. They pulled apart just enough to rest their foreheads together, nose to nose, their sighs mingling between their open mouths.
Knock knock knock.
Nick and Charlie both jumped out of their skins, having entirely forgotten they were not the only two people on the planet, let alone in the house.
"Time to get up, boys," came Sarah's voice. "You have school, remember."
Charlie all but threw himself out of bed. Luckily, he hit the mattress on the floor just in time for Sarah's head to poke around the bedroom door.
"I've washed your uniform from yesterday for you, Charlie. It's hanging up in the bathroom."
"Thanks, Mrs Nelson," Charlie said, trying to look as if he had been lying comfortably where he was all night, not sprawled haphazardly on a cold mattress.
"Don't take too long will you," said Sarah. "Don't make me regret letting you have a sleepover on a school night."
"We won't," Nick and Charlie chorused at the same time.
The door clicked shut again as Sarah left them to it.
They both burst into embarrassed laughter.
Nick's head appeared above Charlie as he leant over the side of the bed. His head was haloed by the sunlight coming from the window behind him and he was beaming so widely, Charlie wanted to grab him, pull him down onto the mattress with him and -
Charlie blushed furiously. Nick tilted his head.
"What?"
"N-nothing."
Charlie stumbled to his feet, desperately trying to hide his red face while also calming his raging hormones.
Nick watched him, thinking he looked absolutely adorable stumbling about in Nick's too-big pyjamas, his flustered state only adding to the effect.
"Chaarliee," Nick whined dramatically. "What is it? Tell meee."
He grabbed onto Charlie's hands and pulled him over to stand by the bed.
"You're just," Charlie whispered, leaning in closer. Nick could feel every slight puff of air against his cheek. "Very pretty."
Charlie pecked his now equally flustered boyfriend quickly on the cheek, then bounded out of the room toward the bathroom.
Nick sat there, on the edge of the bed, aware that his own face was now bright red.
No one had ever called him pretty before.
It wasn't until Charlie had almost finished up in the bathroom that, in the form of a splitting headache, his subconscious remembered anything was different.
He had been blissfully distracted by the joy of waking up next to his boyfriend, something he and Nick had only ever achieved a handful of times in the past, due to the limitations of being teenagers and the no-sleepover-on-school-nights rule.
His freshly washed uniform smelt of the Nelsons' usual fabric softener and therefore, smelt like Nick. Charlie breathed it in as he did up his tie. He realised the smell seemed to soothe his headache a little, and he found himself smiling as he shrugged on his blazer.
Charlie reached for the bathroom door handle but stopped dead. Some sort of crusty brown substance was caked on the cuff of his blazer sleeve.
He swallowed, throat suddenly very dry.
There was a metallic taste in his mouth, as if the dead man's blood on his sleeve had spread down his own throat.
Charlie strode back to the sink and brushed his teeth again, using the spare toothbrush Sarah had laid out for him. He splashed his face with cold water but - against the lids of his eyes he saw, again, the man's body as it fell across his eyeline.
Blood pooled.
The eyes were open and empty and staring - straight into Charlie's soul.
Ray.
His name had been Ray.
Like sunshine…
He shook the tap water and tears out of his eyes, hoping to scatter a few of the dark memories with them. Charlie glanced at his reflection in the mirror momentarily, then darted quickly out of the room, away from the dangerous solitude.
An hour later, once everyone had breakfasted (Nick's appetite seemed to have been fully restored, while Charlie's had gotten worse), Nellie had been let out for her morning wee, and Sarah had shot the Springs a quick text, assuring them Charlie would get to school on time and with a packed lunch, the three of them set off out the front door.
On any other day, Charlie might have spent more time realising how calm and comfortable and easy mornings with the Nelsons were, compared to mornings with the Springs.
But today, his mind was full of the fresh horrors of yesterday, and the fact that he and Nick were now both facing a full day of pretending like everything was okay. Pretending like their safe little bubble had not in fact, burst.
By three gunshots and a cricket bat to the head, Charlie thought darkly.
Just as they were about to get into the car, two worrying things happened at the same time.
Charlie's phone went off, indicating an undoubtedly furious call from his mum, which he ignored entirely at the sight of the second thing.
The woman striding purposefully toward them was unassuming enough, her brown hair tied back in a simple ponytail, her clothes plain but practical. But then she approached Sarah directly and held out a black warrant card.
"Sorry to bother you this morning," she said. "I'm Chief Constable Helen Torrance. Would you happen to be Mrs Sarah Nelson of number 34 River Crescent?"
"I would," Sarah answered, calmly but definitely a little shocked beneath the politeness.
Nick froze with his hand gripping the car door handle. He felt like his breakfast might make a re-appearance and willed it not to. He met Charlie's eye over the roof of the car and saw his own panic reflected in them.
Charlie seemed to collect himself quicker, or else he found it easier to devoid his face of all emotion in a single blink. He quickly made his way around to the other side of the car to stand beside Nick.
Meanwhile, Nick couldn't even seem to make himself turn around to watch as his mum spoke with the detective.
"I am under the impression that you are the owner of a small cabin in Lakewood Park, is that correct?"
"It is, yes," Sarah replied, confused.
"I am sorry to inform you but, late yesterday afternoon, three men were found dead inside your cabin."
A dull sort of ringing had filled Nick's ears as soon as he'd heard the word 'cabin'. He felt Charlie's hand clamp around his blazer sleeve. Nick wrapped his hand around Charlie's wrist and tried to focus on the cool skin beneath his own, on the rapidly increasing heartbeat.
At least it was beating, Nick thought.
"This is currently being treated as a triple homicide and as such, any information you could provide, no matter how small or seemingly irrelevant, the better. Perhaps we could step inside your home to chat. We might be more comfortable there for now, but I will need to ask you to come down to the station later."
It was only at that moment that the detective seemed to notice the two boys standing there by the car.
"Morning, boys," the detective said with a kind smile.
"Morning," Charlie breathed. His throat was very dry again.
"Sorry, dears," said Sarah with a distressed sigh. "Do you mind walking to school this morning? If you start now, you should just about make it on time."
"Oh, if I've made you late, just let me know," said Officer Torrance. "I can give the school a ring and make sure you don't get into any trouble."
She smiled again, so kindly it almost seemed fake to Charlie. And then Sarah led her into the house and the front door shut behind them. Nick and Charlie were left standing there alone.
There was a soft thunk as Nick rested his head against the coolness of the window. He let out a breath he hadn't realised he had been holding.
Charlie tugged at his blazer sleeve. Nick turned to look at his boyfriend's pale face.
"Come on," said Charlie, voice eerily flat. "Let's not be late, yeah?"
"Yeah."
Charlie managed to pry Nick away from the car and they set off down the road, walking considerably faster than they normally would.
Nick wished Charlie hadn't released his grip on his sleeve. Wished for the umpteenth time that he could just reach out and hold his hand - but he was still so scared.
They walked in physical silence for almost ten minutes, while their hearts calmed down enough to thread their scattered thoughts into words.
"That detective," said Charlie, slowly. "She said they found three bodies in the cabin. Three."
"I know that, Charlie," Nick chuckled. "I was there."
"Oh, shut up, you." Charlie smirked as he nudged Nick's shoulder playfully. "I know you're not that bad at maths. I'm pretty sure there were four bodies last time we checked. That means -"
"That the shooter must still be out there somewhere."
"Should we be worried?" Charlie bit his lip. "That's sort of worrying, isn't it? Do you think he remembers what we look like?"
Nick swallowed. "I dunno. He definitely saw me but, like, only for a few seconds. Don't worry though," he added quickly. "I don't think he saw your face. Only your arm and your side which is - comforting…"
"Nick Nelson, that is not comforting!" Charlie stopped walking to round on his boyfriend. "Not even in the slightest."
Charlie looked around anxiously at the students around them, not having realised quite how loudly they had been talking. They had neared the school gates without them noticing.
"Hey," said Nick. "Maybe we shouldn't be discussing… this so loudly in public." He took it upon himself to re-attach himself to the sleeve of Charlie's blazer, needing to anchor himself somehow. "Or in public at all for that matter."
Nick and Charlie both glanced around again at the crowd of teenagers bustling about them. It seemed to Nick that they were now even further removed from the rest of them.
Now they had two secrets.
Two massive secrets.
Nick let go of his anchor just as Charlie's phone beeped. His face fell as he read the text. "Ugh! My mum is pissed."
"I'm so sorry, Charlie!"
Tori's voice suddenly came from right behind them. Nick and Charlie both jumped.
"Jesus -" Nick gasped.
"Tori!" Charlie groaned.
"My phone was dead," Tori explained. "I only got your text this morning. Mum and dad only realised you weren't there when you didn't come down for breakfast. I had to sit through mum's new bullshit 'family bonding time breakfast' with only Oliver for company, and he's too easily swayed by pancakes and syrup to be sympathetic."
"Sorry," Charlie sighed. "And don't worry about it. They were going to be mad at me anyway. I was just delaying the inevitable."
"Delay away, I say," said Tori, and with a wave, she headed off towards Higgs.
Nick and Charlie turned together and stepped through the familiar green gates of Truham Grammar, the very last place either of them wanted to be right now. But as they set off toward form, Charlie thought maybe the monotony would provide both of them with at least some sense of security.
Indeed, when they took their usual seats by the window, the familiar casual conversation, last minute homework and Mr Lange reminding them to be quiet no less than four times, definitely restored a modicum of normality.
There was an unenthusiastic scrape of chairs when the bell rang, signalling the end of form, and the boys filed out.
"See you at break," said Charlie, once he and Nick had reached the corridor where they would have to part ways.
"I miss you already," Nick leaned in and whispered.
"You are such a sap."
"Bye!"
"That too."
"Charlie!"
The smile on Charlie's face fuelled Nick halfway to his first lesson. But by the time he had pushed open the door to the science block, the vaguely sickly feeling was back in his stomach.
Nick spent most of his first period trying to text Charlie discreetly, hiding his phone under the desk. But after his teacher gave him a warning, he had to give up, not wanting to risk his phone being confiscated.
Meanwhile, his stomach would not settle, no matter how much water he sipped. It only made him need to pee, meaning he was almost late for second period geography. Five minutes was never enough time to get to your next class and pee. It always had to be one or the other. And he seemed to have misplaced his homework.
Geography seemed to drag on even more than usual, Nick's concentration almost entirely devoted to not throwing up in the middle of class.
Finally, when the bell rang for break, Nick chucked his books into his bag and sprinted to the door, ready to make a run for the nearest toilets. Not looking where he was going, he stumbled into someone who had been waiting just outside the classroom door.
"Nick?" Charlie grabbed Nick by the shoulders to steady him. "Are you alright?"
Nick started to apologise for nearly knocking his boyfriend over, but instead clamped a hand over his mouth as he turned away sharply. Throwing up on him would not be attractive nor romantic.
Charlie understood the situation immediately. He grabbed Nick's sleeve and set off. Nick was very impressed by the speed and agility with which Charlie navigated a clear path for them through the bustling corridors and into the nearest toilets, which were thankfully empty.
Nick slumped on the floor of one of the cubicles and lifted the lid.
But the horrible sickly feeling that had been plaguing him all morning seemed to have disappeared - somewhere between here and the geography classroom.
He sat back against the wall and sighed. Charlie slid the lock across the door and crouched down to peer into Nick's pale face. He stroked Nick's fringe back away from his forehead. "Are you going to be sick?"
"I thought I was but I think it's passed on its own."
Nick threaded his fingers through Charlie's and squeezed his hand gently.
"Do you need some water?"
Before Nick could protest, Charlie retrieved his water bottle from his bag and handed it over. Nick took a few grateful sips anyway. His stomach had definitely settled, but the water did little to shift the lingering feeling of dread. Then, without any warning at all, he felt himself begin to well up with tears.
"Hey," Charlie whispered. "Hey… it's okay."
"I'm okay. I don't know why I'm crying…"
Nick took an extra gulp from the bottle in an effort to quell his tears but he only succeeded in spluttering water down his front. Charlie took the bottle back gently and set it aside. He drew Nick's face between his hands with such tenderness it made Nick's heart do a somersault.
This boy.
"Hey," Charlie whispered again. "You don't need to explain yourself to me. You don't need a reason to cry, Nick."
Then Charlie folded Nick into his arms and the dam broke. Nick clung to him, letting his tears fall freely against Charlie's shoulder. Charlie rubbed his back, rocking him gently, trying to soothe away his boyfriend's fears as much as he could while also trying to swallow back his own tears.
They sat there for several long minutes, ignoring the unthinkably gross toilet floor, holding each other tight, even after their tears had dried up.
Nick sat back with a big gulp of air and rubbed at his eyes furiously. Charlie kissed his brow, then wiped away a few of his own tears.
"Sorry for getting your shoulder all soggy," Nick murmured.
Charlie shrugged. "It'll dry. And you obviously needed that."
Nick attempted a watery smile. "Thank you - for being here."
"You don't need to thank me," said Charlie. "What sort of boyfriend would I be if I just left you to wallow alone?"
"Still… Thanks."
"You're welcome. Let's get off this floor, shall we? My feet are kind of going numb." Charlie offered Nick his hand. Nick took it gratefully and let him haul him to his feet. "Do you want to get some fresh air? Come on, it'll do us both some good."
Nick and Charlie spent the rest of their break time strolling around the school grounds, trying their best to avoid anyone else who might want to speak to them. Even being around their friends felt like too much today.
All morning, Tao had been talking Charlie's ear off about some film or other, but Charlie had found it difficult to concentrate on anything for too long. He was entirely too tense, and kept finding himself jumping at the smallest of noises.
Neither Tao nor Aled had found this behaviour all that odd. Especially when Charlie waved away their concern and told them he was just tired. Charlie was a stressed-out person generally. His friends were used to it. Charlie was used to it.
What he wasn't used to, however, was the definite tremor he seemed to have developed in his left hand. He had discovered it during second period English, when holding his pen steady to write had proved trickier than usual.
And he definitely wasn't used to the constant niggling worry at the back of his mind, that the shooter was still out there somewhere, and that there was a very high chance he remembered what Nick looked like.
Who could forget such a perfect face? Charlie mused as he sat in third period Maths.
Unfortunately, Charlie doubted the shooter had anything but murderous intent, considering his track record.
Would he come looking for Nick?
To dispose of him so he wouldn't blow his cover?
With this happy thought fresh in his mind, the bell rang for lunch. Charlie hurried toward the usual picnic bench, knowing Nick's presence would ground him, hopefully enough that it would see him through until home time.
Twenty minutes in, however, Harry Greene and his cronies, Matt and Will, appeared across the field in the near distance. They were shouting their usual nonsense. Charlie couldn't quite work out what they were saying but gathered the gist of it.
Then Charlie's phone alerted him to the fifth angry text from his mother that day. Between the unread words burning a hole in his pocket and the looming bullies, Charlie's hands began shaking so violently he had to drop the sandwich he had been nibbling the corner of.
Tao was on his feet, but Nick leaned in to whisper to Charlie, "Do you want to go to the art room?"
Charlie met his boyfriend's concerned eyes and nodded.
Mr Ajayi was not there when they entered, which was a relief. They could have some privacy.
Without discussing it, Nick and Charlie sat down on the floor by the cabinets in the corner and took their lunches back out.
Charlie had just psyched himself up enough to pick up his half-chewed sandwich when his phone rang. With a huff of frustration, he threw the sandwich back into his box and fished his phone out of his pocket.
His mum was calling him.
"Maybe you should just answer her, Char," said Nick, sympathetically. "It might soften the blow a bit. Before you have to go home?"
"No. I - I just can't."
Charlie didn't really know why he was ignoring his mum's attempts at contact, only that he couldn't bring himself to pick up whenever she rang or reply to any texts. Even eating his sandwich seemed like less of a mountain to climb today.
He pocketed his phone again. "I'm sorry."
"Get that word out of your mouth, Charlie Spring."
"Sorr-"
"I mean it," Nick chided, smirking. "I won't kiss you if you say it again."
Charlie pouted dramatically, thinking for a moment. Then he turned to Nick, grinning, eyes sparkling. He leaned forward so they were nose to nose. Nick's breath caught. His eyes fluttered shut. At the last moment before their lips could brush, Charlie whispered, "I apologise."
Despite himself, Nick could not contain the shiver that ran through him. Before he knew what he was doing, he pressed a kiss to the smirk at the corner of Charlie's mouth. Nick reached up to lace his fingers through Charlie's dark curls, when Charlie drew away again, picked up his sandwich and took a big old bite.
"You sneaky little shit!" Nick gasped, laughing.
Charlie snickered around his lunch. "I have you wrapped around my little finger."
"Luckily for you, that is my favourite place to be."
"You are such a dork."
They spent the rest of lunch giggling and flirting, and determinedly not mentioning the murder-sized elephant in the room.
Wrenching themselves up from the art room floor half an hour later felt like wading through mud. The mud only seemed to get thicker the further they walked down the corridor, toward the spot where they would have to turn in different directions.
"Only two more hours," Nick assured Charlie, as well as himself. "Then - freedom!"
Hmph, Charlie thought miserably as he sat down in fourth period. Only two more hours until he was free to go home and face his mum's wrath.
Meanwhile, across the school, Nick was busy chastising himself for his own thoughtless statement. Just because he himself was used to a comfortable, relaxed home environment, didn't mean everyone else was. And, Nick reminded himself, in two hours' time he may be getting to see Charlie again, but it wouldn't be for very long.
Something told him there would be no sleepovers again for a while.
And apparently, that was now enough to set his bottom lip quivering and tears threatening to fall.
God. Why was he so emotional today?
Nick clamped a hand over his mouth to muffle the sob which tried to rip itself from his throat. A few of his classmates looked around at him in alarm. A few of them started whispering.
Luckily, Nick managed to put his head down on his desk without anyone bothering him. He took several deep breaths, willed his tears to fuck off, please, and managed to collect himself enough by the time the teacher entered to start the lesson.
Maybe he should Google whether excessive crying was a symptom of PTSD?
It was a very long two hours.
When the bell rang at twenty-five past three, Charlie was well and truly over today.
He just wanted to get out of this building, even if it meant finally having to confront his mum. He had left her to simmer all day and that was something he knew wasn't wise. Even Oliver knew that.
The worst part though, Charlie thought as he packed up his books, was that for once he felt he had in fact actually done something to warrant his mum's anger.
He had slept over at Nick's without asking permission. He hadn't even directly told his parents where he had been. He had instead placed the responsibility onto Tori.
He had then proceeded to compulsively ignore every attempt to contact him throughout the day, not even plucking up enough courage to tell his mum whether or not he was even still alive.
He had also flat out failed to inform a detective that both he and Nick had been first hand witnesses of the triple homicide she was investigating.
He was a terrible son.
But he was a better boyfriend.
Charlie would not let anything out Nick before Nick was ready. Not even if it meant withholding information from a criminal investigation.
Barely five steps out of the school building, Charlie caught sight of three of his least favourite people heading toward him. His stomach dropped. Before he could do anything to stop it, his path toward the school gates, to where Nick was waiting, was successfully blocked.
"Oi oi! It's Charlie Spring!"
Charlie made to edge past them but the three boys only closed in, trapping him further. The attempt had been feeble, Charlie knew, but over the years, he had learnt that sometimes the only way through was to endure. He fixed his gaze on the concrete at his feet and prepared to wait it out, until they got bored.
"Hey, mate," Harry barked. "I can't believe you have the same bag as this faggot."
Charlie looked up in confusion. Harry and Will guffawed at the disgusted look on Matt's face. Charlie blinked. Matt did indeed have the same red school bag as Charlie.
For once, Charlie noticed, the other boy looked as uncomfortable as Charlie usually felt when being subjected to Harry's taunts.
"Well," said Charlie, before he could stop himself. "At least one of you has good taste."
Harry and Will burst into another fit of laddish laughter, thumping Matt on the back as the boy went bright red with embarrassment.
But it was quickly morphing into rage. Matt suddenly surged forward, fists clenched. "Are you trying to flirt with me?"
Charlie took an involuntary step back. He and Matt were about the same height but Charlie had nothing on the other boy's bulk.
"He is, mate!"
"That is so disgusting!"
"That is pretty disgusting," said Charlie. "Why would anyone want to flirt with you?"
Harry and Will laughed even louder. "He's got you there, mate."
"Shut the fuck up you fucking arseholes!" Matt's face was almost purple with fury. He spat at the ground, narrowly avoiding Charlie's shoes. "I'm not a dirty pervert like this one here."
Matt shoved Charlie, hard.
Charlie stumbled but did not fall.
"Hey, hey, we know that, mate," said Harry, patting Matt's shoulder. "It's not your fault we're so sexy. Hey, Charlie, if you had the chance - what order would you fuck us in?"
"No, no, mate," Will laughed. "What order would he let us fuck him in."
"Right, right," said Harry, unabashed. "Ain't nothing going near my arse. But I bet he'd want us all at the same time, anyway. I bet he's a proper little slut under that little gay nerd exterior."
Harry reached out a hand to ruffle Charlie's hair but Charlie slapped his hand away. As the boys howled with more cruel laughter, Charlie managed to shuffle back a few paces. He could taste the bile in the back of his throat.
He glanced subconsciously toward the school gates in the far distance, wishing Nick would somehow sense Charlie's distress, or else wishing he could just disappear.
"That's right," said Will, deciphering Charlie's gaze with an evil smirk. "He'd be right at the top of your fuck-list, isn't that right, Charlie?"
"Fucking disgusting."
Another glob of spit landed at Charlie's feet.
He could feel the rage bubbling inside him. Shut up. Shut up about him. He clenched his fists at his sides. Don't you dare -
"I don't know, mate," said Harry with a grimace. "Something tells me, lately, our Nick wouldn't say no. I mean, he's never been the brightest spark but at least he's always had his dick in the right place, of you know what I mea-"
Harry's head snapped sideways as Charlie's fist connected with his eyebrow.
The three boys stood there for several silent seconds, frozen in utter shock. Each of them stared, open-mouthed, at Charlie, who could only stand there, panting as if he had just run a mile.
Then, without a second thought, Charlie pushed past the three gawking bullies and sped off toward the gates, his heart thumping madly with some kind of panicked satisfaction.
By the time Charlie found Nick leaning against the fence, frowning at his phone, Charlie's adrenaline had dissipated and the satisfaction had been replaced with an empty sort of dread.
"There you are," said Nick. "I was just about to come and find you. I was getting worried. You weren't answering my texts. Are you alright?"
"Yeah," Charlie panted. "Sorry to keep you waiting. Harry and his mates were being -"
"Twats?"
"Yeah."
Nick's brown eyes narrowed in concern, but then he glanced at something over Charlie's shoulder. Charlie turned to look. Harry, Matt and Will were hurrying through the gates a little way away. Charlie could see the suspiciously purpling mark from here.
"Charlie? Did you punch Harry?"
"I'm sorry." Charlie looked down at his shoes, embarrassed. "I know it was stupid. He's just - he makes me so angry."
But Charlie raised his head again and found that Nick was smiling. "No s-words remember. Especially not about this. Charlie, I am so proud of you! You little bruiser!"
Nick nudged Charlie's shoulder, prodding a dimpled cheek with a finger.
"Shut up," Charlie gasped, squirming away from his boyfriend's grasp. "Get off me, you."
But Charlie was smiling too. He couldn't help it.
Nick picked up Charlie's hand and inspected the bruised knuckles there. Charlie grinned even wider as Nick kissed them better. He dropped them again quickly, remembering where they were, but the sentiment remained.
"He didn't hit you back, did he?"
"No, no, I'm fine. I ran away before he could try anything more. I think he was too stunned to do much more than gawp to be honest."
Nick laughed. "I wish I could have been there to see it."
"And I'm very glad you weren't," said Charlie. "At least you were spared from the horrifying mental images I was forced to endure."
"What? What do you mean?"
"Let's just say, it sounds like I'm allowed to invite you to an orgy Harry has arranged for himself, his mates and me."
"What the fuck?"
Charlie winked.
He turned away and walked through the gates without another word.
Nick hurried along after him. "Why the fuck would you tell me that, Char?"
Charlie couldn't help but laugh at the utter disgust on his boyfriend's face.
"No swearing, Nicholas."
Nick and Charlie both turned in surprise to find Sarah Nelson watching them through her open car window. She was parked a few metres away at the side of the road. Her expression was only quasi-serious.
"Sorry, mum."
Nick couldn't help but notice the frown lines around his mum's eyes were more pronounced than they usually were. Something told him this had not been an easy day for her either.
The real world came crashing down around Nick.
It seemed to be doing that a lot today.
Nick waved back at Charlie as he walked away down the road, toward the bus stop. Then Nick opened the car door and slid into the passenger seat, trying not to let his usually perceptive mum notice anything was amiss.
As Sarah pulled out of the parking space, Nick watched out the window and saw Charlie sitting at the bus stop. His curly head was down, his narrow shoulders hunched, as if the whole world were on his back.
The absolute yearning to phase through the glass, to manifest himself next to the boy on the bench was almost too much.
The nausea was back.
Charlie and Tori sat together on the bus in silence as usual, both of them drowning out the rest of the world, earbuds in, music loud. Charlie gripped his phone tightly in his once again trembling hand. Only when his knuckles whitened did the tremor stop.
All too soon, the bus arrived at their stop. And in no time at all, Charlie stepped through his front door, braced for an immediate onslaught of yelling which… didn't come.
Charlie slipped off his coat and hung it on the hook. Maybe he'd be able to sneak up to his room and avoid the inevitable for even longer. He gave himself a quick mental shake.
No. Just get it over with. Come on, Charlie.
He followed Tori into the kitchen. Jane Spring was sitting at the breakfast bar, a cup of tea wrapped in her thin fingers.
"So," she said, her lips pursed so tightly it looked as if she had swallowed a lemon. "You've finally decided we are worthy of your attention."
Charlie knew from past experience that it was best to say as little as possible when his mum was looking at him like that. Just nod and agree. It would be over soon.
"Do you have any idea how worried we've been?"
"I know. I'm -"
"Of course you don't. You think the whole world revolves around you. Well, Charlie, here's the thing. It doesn't. And just because you think something is good for you, doesn't mean it is. There are rules in this house for a reason, Charlie, and the biggest one is your safety."
"I'm sorry."
"Hmph." Jane pursed her lips even tighter. "Are you going to explain to me why you felt it acceptable to have a sleepover on a school night? And not even tell us where you were?"
"I told Tori! It's not my fault she didn't -"
"Only because you knew full well that if you asked me or your dad, we would have said no. You knew what you were doing was wrong, Charlie."
"I'm really s-"
"Ah ah ah! That's enough from you, young man. There will be no more sleepovers at all. Not until I decide you can be trusted again."
"Fine."
"And I want you to give me your phone. No phone, no internet, no drums. You'll go straight to your room and do your homework. When you're done, I'm sure I'll be able to find some chores for you to do around the house." She held out her hand expectantly. "Phone, Charlie."
Reluctantly, Charlie took his phone from his blazer pocket. His hand shook as he went to unlock it. He reached to tap on Nick's name but the phone was snatched roughly from his grasp.
"Mum," Charlie cried. "I was just going to text Nick and tell him -"
"I said no phones. Honestly, Charlie, I'm sure Nick can manage one night without hearing from you. He has a lot of other friends he can talk to."
Charlie stuffed both of his hands into his pockets to hide how violently they were now shaking.
"Please?"
"Room. Now. Homework. Go."
Charlie heard his phone chime even as he fled from the kitchen. It wasn't until he had run up the stairs, slammed his bedroom door shut and flopped onto his bed that he realised tears were slipping silently down his face.
During the hour or so before dinner, Nick tried his best to distract himself with homework, tried his best to be at least a little bit productive. But the now-familiar unsettled feeling in his stomach was now accompanied by an almost impulsive need to check his phone every thirty seconds.
It had been nearly an hour since Charlie's last text and, despite himself, Nick could not help the panic rising inside him. On a normal day, this situation would be worrying of course, but now, after everything that had happened…
Maybe he should Google whether co-dependency was a symptom of PTSD?
It would make sense, he thought.
Had there been a bus crash?
Was Charlie lying dead on the side of the road somewhere?
Had the shooter returned and ambushed Charlie on the way between the bus and his front door?
Had Charlie's mum confiscated his phone as punishment for their unauthorised sleepover?
Probably.
Still, Nick could not stop his spiralling thoughts.
He was relieved when his mum called up to him to announce dinner was ready. Nick leapt up from his beanbag chair, leaving his half-finished algebra in the dust.
All the way home that afternoon, Nick and his mum had hardly said anything to each other, both lost in their own unsavoury thoughts. Not until they were halfway through their meal did Sarah finally break the silence.
"How was the algebra?"
"Terrible," said Nick.
He swallowed hard, psyching himself up to ask the question that had been eating at his mind since this morning. He tried to sound as unaffected as possible.
"How was the police station?"
Sarah picked at her food, trying to formulate the right words, working out exactly what she should say to her son. He was very mature for his age, but he was still only sixteen, still a child. What she had seen and discussed today was too much for anyone to handle.
"That detective lady said they found bodies - in our cabin?"
"Yes, dear. Three men."
"Do they know what happened?"
"I'm not sure, baby. They didn't tell me much. I was mainly there to answer questions about the cabin." Sarah sighed. "You didn't go to the cabin yesterday, did you, Nicky? When rugby was cancelled?"
"No. We just - we just went to the park."
"And you didn't see anything unusual? Anyone acting suspiciously?"
Nick shook his head. "No, of course not. We just sat on the swings and talked."
"For a whole hour?"
"Yeah."
"The perpetrator might have crossed through the park or gone through the woods from a back road. They seemed to be having trouble finding CCTV footage. I don't think there's much around the park. That's probably why they're struggling with the investigation and had to resort to questioning me. They don't have any witnesses."
"What kind of things did they ask you?"
"Oh, just how often I used the cabin. Whether I had leant the keys to anyone other than you. I wasn't there very long. Helen, the detective lady, seemed very nice. Friendly, even. I suppose she's used to all that… But I saw some of the photos they have pinned up there, you know, from the crime scene?"
Sarah let out a deep breath and set her cutlery down. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, trying to rid her brain of the memory.
Nick had discarded his own knife and fork several minutes ago, hands clenched in his lap, trying to channel the tension and guilt away from his face.
"It was so horrible, Nicky. Just horrible. Our cabin. It's - it's a mess. All that work you and Charlie put into it and it's all just ruined. It seems impossible for so much blood to come out of only three people…"
"Do they know who the men were? Did they manage to identify the bodies?"
The words scratched against Nick's dry throat on the way out.
Sarah nodded grimly. "They didn't tell me their names, but they knew they were members of some gang or other. It was strange, I only caught a glimpse of their board, you know, with all the pins and strings on it, but one of the details the detectives seemed to be fixated on was that one of the bodies was barefoot. No shoes, no socks, just bare feet. Doesn't seem like much to go on but, what do I know - Nicky? Are you alright? You've gone very pale."
Nick met his mum's eye across the table. There was a sort of ringing in his ears. His knuckles were bone-white in his lap.
"I'm so sorry, baby," Sarah said in sickening realisation. "I shouldn't be telling you all this. Especially not when you're trying to eat. I apologise, Nicky. Today has just been a lot. I'm glad it's nearly over."
But Nick was hardly listening. His mum's voice sounded kind of muffled, like he had been submerged under water.
"Let's talk about something else now, hey? How's Charlie?"
Nick sucked in a breath. It was getting difficult to keep his breathing regulated.
He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry.
He wanted to talk to Charlie.
"You aren't feeling poorly again, are you, Nicky?"
"I - I think I just need some air," he managed. "Can I go for a walk?"
"It's a bit late, baby. Are you sure?"
Nick got to his feet and headed toward the kitchen door. "I won't be long. I promise."
Sarah watched him, frowning. Something in his voice made her regret having spilled all those horrible things out to him. She had always prided herself on having such an open and trusting relationship with her youngest, but perhaps she had taken it a bit too far this time.
"Alright," she smiled through tired eyes. "You're sixteen. I trust you. Be safe."
"Thank you. I will."
The ten-minute walk felt like ten hours while he was in it but as he knocked on the Springs' front door, Nick felt like it had been ten seconds.
The cool evening air and the motion of walking had soothed his spiralling mind somewhat, but when Jane Spring answered the door and not her son, Nick was not prepared enough to school his features into anything that resembled calm and collected.
"Um… sorry to bother you. But could I speak to -?"
"Charlie is not allowed any visitors this evening. He is being punished, as I'm sure you're aware, considering you were his accomplice."
"I'm sorry, Mrs Spring. It won't happen again. Please could I just -?"
"Nick?"
A light thunder of footsteps from behind Jane and then Charlie was there.
His eyes were a little red and tired but his smile was bright enough to thaw some of the tension from Nick's shoulders.
As long as Charlie Spring still existed in the world then everything would be alright.
But would it?
After what Nick had done?
"Your friend was just leaving, Charlie. I told him you're not allowed any visitors."
"But I've finished all my homework. I promise I have, mum, you can go and check."
Jane shot Charlie a disapproving look. "Hmph. You're meant to be being punished, Charlie."
"I know," said Charlie. "I know that. And I understand why. What I did was stupid and irresponsible, and I know you're only doing what's best for me. I made you worry and I'm sorry."
He had caught the thinly veiled distress in Nick's brown eyes at once, and saw that it was threatening to spill over, no matter how hard he was trying to keep it together.
"But please could I just have two minutes to talk to Nick? He doesn't even have to come inside the house. We can just talk out here."
Jane Spring must have been a stronger person than Nick because the adorable puppy-dog eyes Charlie was giving her would have melted him immediately into a compliant puddle of goo. But the woman did not budge.
"Just two minutes? Please? I'll do any chore you want."
Jane huffed. "Fine. But it'll be two chores. And no whining or complaining about what I choose."
"Thank you so much, mum. We'll be quick, I promise."
"Two minutes, Charlie."
Jane shut the door behind them.
"I'm so sorry I haven't texted you. My mum confiscated my phone."
Charlie joined Nick on the front step. He grabbed Nick's hands and peered up into his pale face. "Nick? What's happened?"
There was quite clearly something very, very wrong. Charlie could feel the tension radiating off Nick, his breathing was ragged, his palms were sweaty. Charlie watched helplessly as Nick took a deep breath and nearly choked on it.
"Hey, hey, come on, sit down. Breathe, Nick." Charlie ushered Nick down onto the step beside him and tucked him up against his chest. "Concentrate on my breathing, okay?"
For a few moments, Charlie could do nothing but hold onto his boyfriend, as he listened carefully, one ear flat against Charlie's heart. Charlie thought it seemed to be working until -
"Charlie," Nick gasped. "I've done something bad."
"What? What do you mean?"
Charlie shifted, encouraging Nick to lift his head and look up at him. But Nick's eyes seemed to have clouded over, as if he were looking but not really seeing. Tears prickled at the corners of Charlie's eyes.
"I think -" Nick whispered, almost inaudibly. "I think - I think I killed that man."
Charlie's stomach dropped onto the pavement at their feet.
Two gunshots.
Then a third.
Dark, empty eyes.
A slack jaw.
Scarlet seeping across the floor toward him.
Charlie blinked.
Nick looked up at him, concern breaking through his hazy vision. "Did you - did you hear what I said?"
Charlie tried to clear his head, disgusted at his own brain for making this all about him, when clearly, Nick was in considerable distress, and had been all day.
"But - but you can't have," Charlie breathed. "Look, I know better than anybody how strong you are. But you're not that strong."
"I didn't think I was," Nick gasped. "I hadn't even considered the possibility - that I could -"
Nick's breathing was coming out in harsh puffs again and Charlie rubbed a soothing hand up and down his back. "Hey, shh… you couldn't have Nick. You just couldn't -"
"But I have!" Nick sprung away from Charlie and turned to face the opposite way. He fisted his hands into his hair, eyes screwed up tight in anguish. "My mum said - at the police station - she saw the crime board and - and one of the bodies they found - he had bare feet, Charlie."
Charlie swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. "Oh."
He slowly reached over and pried Nick's hands from where they were assaulting his hair. "Look at me."
Nick merely shook his head and grimaced.
"Hey… please… Please just look at me, Nick."
Charlie gently stroked his thumbs along Nick's cheeks as he planted a kiss on his forehead. The tension in Nick's brow softened a little and he finally opened his eyes. Charlie wished he could kiss away all the pain he could see in them.
"Nick - if you hadn't -" Tears streamed down Charlie's face too, now. "If you hadn't done what you did, then he would have killed us. He would have shot me and then he would have turned around and shot you too."
Nick nodded minutely. He brushed his lips against Charlie's tear-stained cheek for a bittersweet moment, and then he bundled Charlie into his arms, pulling his legs across his lap. Charlie folded his arms around Nick's shoulders and, for the second time that day, they held each other as they wept.
"I don't want you to leave," Charlie whispered.
"I don't want to go."
But Nick knew they must have reached their two-minute mark a while ago, and therefore was unsurprised when the door behind them opened and Jane re-emerged.
Apparently, Jane was such an inattentive parent, that even though both boys were a lot slower at removing themselves from each other's embrace than usual, she didn't even register her son's position in his 'best friend's' lap.
"You've had almost four minutes. Charlie. Inside. Now."
Charlie tried to channel every unspoken reassurance into a single squeeze of Nick's hand before he was buffeted away by his mum, and Nick was left to drag himself away from the doorstep alone.
As Nick walked back toward home, Charlie's words echoed in his head like a mantra.
He would have killed us. He would have killed us. He would have killed us.
Nick would have sat on that doorstep all night long if it had meant he didn't ever have to let Charlie go. But now he was facing what would probably be one of the longest nights ever, considering he couldn't even text Charlie to distract himself when he inevitably couldn't sleep.
Nellie's cheerful "bork!" greeted him when he stepped through the front door.
Nick locked the door behind him. The dog must have taken offence at the lack of response because she whined loudly up at him.
"Sorry, Nel. It's been a long day."
He bent down to fuss Nellie behind her ears. Nick buried his face against the soft fur and had to stop himself from crying again. He took a deep breath. He would not cry again today.
Nick took a step back and heard a light crunch under his foot. An envelope was lying on the doormat. He picked it up.
His name was printed on the front in a plain font, but there was no address, no stamp. It had obviously been delivered by hand.
Frowning, Nick tore it open. A single piece of folded white paper slipped out into his hand.
Keep your mouth shut.
I know where you live.
I still have two bullets left.
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