Hi everyone! I'm so pleased Heartstopper finally has a section on here! Now, I posted this fic on Ao3 and Wattpad, but I thought I'd post it here too!

This fic is based on the plot of the 2015 TV series 'Eyewitness' BUT you do not have to have watched that to enjoy this - you'll probably actually enjoy this more if you haven't seen that.

There will be 18 chapters, and I'll try to post every other day or so.

Enjoy!

1. Witness

The afternoon at school had been ordinarily dull. The minutes dragged on as both Nick and Charlie sat through their separate lessons, hopelessly watching the clock, counting down the seconds until the bell would ring to signal the end of the day - and the moment they could be back in each other's company.

Nick and Charlie had been together for almost a whole month now.

One amazing month.

Secret. But amazing.

Although it was no longer entirely a secret. Charlie's friends knew: Tao, Aled, Elle, Tara and Darcy. And Charlie hadn't been able to keep it from Tori no matter how hard he had tried.

Charlie had understood completely when Nick had asked for their relationship to remain a secret for the time being. Charlie had first-hand experience with being outed before he was ready, and he would absolutely hate for Nick to have to go through the same thing.

Anyway, Charlie himself wasn't sure he was ready yet, to deal with all the unwanted attention that would undoubtedly come once they did come out as a couple.

No, they were both quite content to be together in just their own little bubble for now.

Finally, the bell rang. Charlie gathered up his things and headed quickly through the school toward the changing rooms. Even if it meant occasionally being shoved to the ground by a group of loud, gross rugby lads, it was worth it to spend an entire extra hour with his rugby lad.

But when Charlie arrived outside the changing room door, he was surprised to find several members of the team huddled around it instead of going inside.

"What's going on?" Charlie asked.

"Practice is cancelled?" Sai exclaimed in disappointment from near the front of the group.

Charlie stood on tiptoe to read the notice pinned to the door. Apparently, Mrs Singh had come down with a sudden bout of the flu and was therefore unable to run their rugby practice this afternoon.

As the other team members grumbled and complained to one another, discussing what they were going to do with their extra hour of free time, Nick arrived and Charlie's vision tunnelled as it always did.

Nick's face lit up when he saw Charlie, and they both had to restrain themselves not to wrap each other in a hug. Instead, they settled with a playful shoulder bump. Nick couldn't stop himself from reaching out to flick Charlie's curly fringe affectionately.

"Rugby's been cancelled," Charlie told him. "That means we have an entire hour to kill before we have to go home."

Nick's disappointment about no rugby faded only slightly slower than Charlie's had. Nick grinned.

"Cabin?"

Charlie nodded, returning the grin enthusiastically.

"Cabin."

Without a single glance back at the rest of the team, Nick and Charlie headed down the corridor, back the way they had come, out of the building and across the school towards the gates.

"I missed you a lot today," said Nick as they headed across town toward the park.

"I'm kind of glad rugby got cancelled, to be honest," said Charlie with a laugh. "Don't get me wrong, I love getting to spend the whole hour with you. It's just sometimes I'd really rather I made it through to the end of the day without getting tackled into the mud."

Nick nudged Charlie's shoulder playfully again. "I thought you liked being tackled."

"Only when it's you doing it."

Charlie giggled at the blush which had appeared on Nick's cheeks. Nick wanted so badly to kiss Charlie's dimples right there on the pavement, but that would have to wait.

They both continued to hold back their physical affection as they giggled and blushed all the way through town, toward the park. They were caught up in their own world so much that they didn't even notice they had made it all the way through the woods until they arrived at the cabin door.

Just over a week ago now, Nick had re-learned that his family owned an old cabin in Lakewood Park. He had only a few vague memories of it from his childhood, mostly consisting of intensely boring days spent fishing with his dad and brother.

Nick's dad had loved the place apparently, but Nick's mum had no interest in putting any time or effort into maintaining the cabin now they had separated.

Once Sarah had remembered the place even existed, she had thought about maybe trying to sell it. But then when she and Nick had gone along to see what had become of the place, she had come to the conclusion that the cabin was in no fit shape to be of any interest to anyone.

However, looking around the small, single room, with it's wooden furniture and it's definitely a-little-more-than-rustic aesthetic, Nick couldn't help but think, with a little TLC, the place might just be what he, and Charlie, needed.

It had not taken much persuading for his mum to allow him to keep it. All she had wanted was for the cabin to be taken out of her hands.

And so, Nick and Charlie, who had been even more delighted by the prospect than Nick, had spent the whole of their half term holidays cleaning up as much of the cabin as they could.

It had been nice to have a project to work on together. Especially one that felt so… domestic.

They had swept up leaves, bravely relocated spiders, scrubbed windows, patched up several of the more serious leaks in the ceiling, and washed the old quilt from the camp bed in the corner, then thrown it out when they realised it was beyond saving. It had now been replaced with a soft woollen grey throw Charlie had saved from being binned by his mum.

There was no lock on the front door. No electricity. No running water. No Wi-Fi. The occasional creepy-crawly still found it's way into the nooks and crannies.

But this was their place, away from parents and nosy siblings, away from school stresses and homophobic bullies. Their place where they could be safe, where they could be alone, where they could be together.

Charlie dumped his brand-new school bag on the floor by the bed and flopped down onto the grey throw. Nick began rummaging through an old cabinet which they used to store snacks and drinks.

"Only one left," he said as he stood up. "Don't drop it."

He chucked the remaining can of coke to Charlie who, much to his own surprise, caught it deftly.

"Looks like those new rugby skills are finally coming in handy," Charlie laughed. He pulled the tab off the drink. He was immediately assaulted by an eruption of carbonated stickiness. "Ugh! Thanks… I think."

"Sorry," Nick chuckled as Charlie shook his hand dry and took a swig.

"You will be."

He handed the can to Nick as they both sat back on the bed, leaning against the wall, shoulder to shoulder. Charlie reached into his blazer pocket and drew out his phone.

The pair both settled into a cosy, comfortable quiet, sipping their shared can of coke and scrolling through Charlie's Instagram feed. Nick snuggled against Charlie's side, his head on his shoulder, eyes closed after a long day.

"Oh my God," Charlie said suddenly, flushing red again, staring at his phone.

Nick opened his eyes. "What is it?" he mumbled.

Charlie tried to pull himself together, to hide his natural reaction. "Nothing… It's just, Imogen has taken a really great photo… of you."

Nick glanced down at Charlie's phone. It was a selfie from last week's rugby match. Imogen and her best friend were smiling from the stands, the team on the pitch behind them. Charlie didn't know whether it had been deliberate or not, but the girl had managed to capture Nick perfectly. He was mid-turn, covered in a considerable layer of mud but smiling brightly, in his element, the wind in his hair.

"Huh," said Nick as he glanced closer at the picture. "I'm all muddy and sweaty and gross."

"More like muddy and sweaty and sexy ."

"Charlie!"

Charlie giggled as Nick blushed and hid his face against Charlie's shoulder.

"And plus," said Charlie, gazing down at the photo still. "You're happy and smiling because you're doing what you love. There's nothing sexier than that."

Nick lifted his head and grabbed the phone from Charlie's hands. He peered down closer at the photo, zooming in on himself. After a second, his cheeks became even redder.

"I'm not smiling because of rugby," he said with a chuckle. "I remember this. You had just successfully dodged a tackle. You were running faster than I'd ever seen you run. I was looking at you."

It was Charlie's turn to blush. He looked down sheepishly at his lap. "I'm not even that good. I didn't even score."

"Maybe not," said Nick, kissing Charlie's shoulder. "But you've worked so hard and improved so much in such a short amount of time. I'd say that's pretty sexy."

"Shut up !" Charlie buried his face in his hands, not able to stand the self-satisfied smirk on Nick's face. "It's only because I have such an excellent teacher."

Charlie took his phone back with a sigh and saved the photo to his camera roll. "I'm going to have to crop this."

He comforted himself with the thought that even if Imogen had the pleasure of owning this photo, Charlie had the real thing. And the real thing was looking across at him with the sort of adoration in his eyes that was almost overwhelming.

And then he was cupping Charlie's face in his hands and whispering, "You're amazing."

"I mean…" Charlie whispered back. " You're amazing."

Nick's heart skipped a beat as blue eyes peered up at him through long, dark lashes. Their lips brushed, gentle and feather-soft. Charlie's arms wrapped around Nick's shoulders. Nick's fingers slid between Charlie's curls.

"No, you," Nick murmured between kisses.

Charlie giggled. The little puff of air against his mouth spurred Nick on. He guided Charlie gently back, onto the bed. Nick was just leaning over when Charlie pulled him by the lapels of his blazer to land on top of him. And then there was nothing between them but clothes as their lips devoured each other once again.

Charlie's hands slid beneath Nick's blazer, smoothing over the older boy's back, making him shiver and gasp. Charlie pulled him closer still, arms wrapped tightly around him. They tumbled sideways together on the bed as hands and tongues tasted and explored.

A sudden swish of bright yellow light beamed momentarily past the window.

In his rose-tinted fervour, Nick barely noticed it. Charlie's hands were inching ever closer to the edge of Nick's shirt and it was very difficult for him to think of much else.

But then there was the sound of a car pulling up on the dirt track outside, and Nick was ruefully wrenched out of his Charlie-scented bubble.

"Shit," he swore as he sat up and peeked out the window.

The car had stopped right beside the cabin. Its headlights blared, dazzling for a moment, until the engine was turned off and three men began to emerge.

As far as Nick could remember, he had rarely seen any car on the narrow dirt road that ran past the cabin.

Charlie sat up, a little dazed from kissing. He followed Nick's gaze out of the window and frowned.

"Who is that?"

"I don't know."

Nick and Charlie squinted through the streaky cabin window, apprehensive as the three men outside opened the car boot and hoisted a fourth man out of it. The others dragged the fourth along between them. His hands were cuffed behind his back.

A terrible feeling of dread suddenly dropped itself into the pit of Nick's stomach.

"Charlie," he breathed. "Get under the bed."

For a moment, Charlie just stood there, eyes wide in alarm, as if he had not yet realised the seriousness of the situation. But then he blinked and ducked under the bed at once.

Nick strode across the small room and, a second before the front door was thrown open, climbed inside the old wardrobe in the corner and shut the door.

In among the old sport equipment and fishing gear, Nick could just about see through the slats in the mouldy wooden door. He watched, hardly daring to breathe, as the men from the car hurried inside the cabin and threw the cuffed man to the floor.

The man fell against the wall, clearly unconscious, head lolling onto his chest.

No more than a metre away, Charlie watched him from under the bed, heart thumping loudly. His red school bag had fallen nearby, and Charlie pulled it toward him now, as silently as he could, afraid it would give away his hiding place.

The door was slammed shut again.

Charlie swallowed against his dry mouth, clutching his bag to his chest. He vaguely registered how odd it was that the unconscious man's feet were completely bare.

Nick watched as one of the men took out a gun. And suddenly, Nick was inherently aware of the sound of his own breathing, of how loudly his heart was pounding in his chest.

The distance between himself and Charlie stretched from metres to what felt like miles.

One of the men was pacing back and forth across the floorboards, agitated, breathing ragged and panicked. With a sickening lurch, Nick noticed that he too was armed.

Nick peered through the slats, toward the bed, moving only as much as he dared. At least from here, Charlie was well hidden. Charlie was safe.

Unless one of the men happened to look under the bed…

"Listen, Ray," the pacing man panted. "We've got to figure this out, mate."

The man who had shut the door, Ray, held out a hand to the pacer. "Mate, you need to relax."

"For fuck's sake, Stan." The third man spun around from where he had been staring out of the window, ringing his hands. "This isn't right. We can't be doing this."

"Jesus, Chris. I'll do it. Now, move!"

Stan raised his gun at the unconscious man by the wall. But before he could do so much as twitch his finger over the trigger, his target sprang to his feet. Hands suddenly free, he grabbed the gun from Ray's limp hand and shot Stan square in the chest.

The ringing in Charlie's ears did nothing to block out the second gunshot. Nor did it allow him to miss the sickening crunches Stan and Chris made as they hit the floor.

"Mate," Ray gasped, hands flying up in surrender. The prisoner was backing him up against the wall with no way to escape, gun aimed right between his eyes. "It's cool, alright? We weren't gonna -"

The bullet ripped through Ray's skull. Blood splattered against the wall behind him. He crumpled like a rag doll. His knees struck the floor a second before his head did.

And suddenly Charlie found himself staring, face-to-face with a pair of empty dark brown eyes. Blood quickly pooled around the man's head, soaking the floorboards, spreading rapidly further under the bed.

Charlie clamped a trembling hand over his mouth to stop himself from screaming.

He could not wrench his eyes away from that unseeing gaze.

A terrified whimper escaped between his shaking fingers.

And Charlie saw, as if from the end of a long tunnel, the killer's bare feet shuffling across the floor toward the bed. Toward him.

Nick's breath stuck in his throat. Without a second thought, he edged the wardrobe door open an inch. His vision now unimpaired, he could see across the blood-soaked floor to where the red strap of Charlie's school bag was protruding out from under the bed.

The shooter swept the grey blanket aside.

Nick's hand clasped over the handle of an old cricket bat in the wardrobe beside him.

Suddenly, both Nick and the shooter had a clear view of the Truham crest on Charlie's blazer, of his arm around his red school bag.

Charlie kept one hand clamped over his mouth. He screwed his eyes shut tight. He was trembling so violently it was near impossible for him to stay silent.

The shooter raised the gun.

Nick stepped out of the wardrobe. In two strides, he crossed the room, cricket bat raised. Heart pounding, ears ringing, but with a blind sort of clarity, Nick swung the bat. With every ounce of strength he possessed, he whacked the man over the head.

The man fell with a dull thunk. And did not move.

Nick dropped to the floor beside the bed.

"Charlie," he gasped. His hand touched something wet on the floor but he didn't have time to process what it was before his hand found the soft material of Charlie's sleeve and pulled. "Charlie! Come on. We have to go."

A small hand tightened around Nick's wrist and then Charlie allowed himself to be dragged out from under the bed, stumbling upright on shaky legs.

They grabbed their school bags and swung them over their shoulders. Nick went to take Charlie's hand but Charlie was bending down to pick something up from the floor.

With a jolt, Nick realised it was the gun.

Then Charlie grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the door at a run.

They burst out into the slowly gathering darkness of the woods. Nick realised he was still clutching the old cricket bat and chucked it, as hard as he could, into the bushes, where it vanished into the shadows.

For the first time in his life, Nick found he was able to keep up with Charlie easily, as they ran through the trees.

Fear and adrenaline pushed them onward. Neither of them wanted anything more than to put as much distance between themselves and that cabin as they could.

Moments later, they were sprinting toward the treeline, and then they were crossing the park to the river bank. Here, finally, they felt concealed enough to collapse, breathing hard, against the trunk of a large willow tree.

Nick steadied himself with one hand as he wheezed, trying to catch his breath.

What had they just witnessed? It didn't make any sense. Why their cabin of all places?

His mind was racing too fast to process everything his quickly dwindling adrenaline had been pushing him through.

Breathing a little more controlled, but still a little ragged, Nick looked up at the sound of a light splash from the nearby river.

Charlie met his gaze from the riverbank. He had thrown the gun into the water. His blue eyes were wide, horror-struck, his hands clenched painfully at his sides.

Nick stumbled forward. He grasped his boyfriend's shoulders, peered desperately into his eyes. What he saw staring back at him broke his heart. Or else what he didn't see.

There was no light there. No spark.

"Charlie?" Nick stifled a sob. "Are you alright? Are you hurt?"

Nick swept a hurried gaze over him, checking for any hidden injuries, reassuring himself that Charlie was still there, still alive.

At the sight of Nick's frantic, tear-streaked face, something inside Charlie clicked. Slowly, his consciousness dragged itself out from where it had retreated. Out from the dark, dark depths of his mind.

He let out a sharp, ragged breath.

"Charlie?" Nick grasped his face between his hands. "Are you hurt?"

Frantically, Charlie shook his head. Tears spilled rapidly down his cheeks. Nick subconsciously swept them away with his thumb but they were immediately replaced with fresh ones.

"He was -" Charlie gasped. "He was going to kill me. If you hadn't -"

Nick bundled him into his arms. Charlie clung to the back of Nick's blazer, trembling. Nick buried his face against Charlie's shoulder as he sobbed in relief that his sweet, beautiful, innocent boyfriend was alive and breathing.

Charlie focused on the sensation of Nick's breath against his neck, his fingers tangled in his hair. The familiar scent of comfort, of safety, of home, grounded him.

Their ragged heart rates finally synchronised and evened out.

A sudden sharp beeping noise.

They jerked their heads up to look about wildly for a tense moment. Then Nick realised it was his phone making the sound.

He had almost forgotten the rest of the world existed.

"It's my mum," he said. "She's waiting for us at school."

It seemed absolutely absurd to Charlie that it had only been an hour since he and Nick had been strolling through town, not a care in the world. They had been so excited to spend an entire uninterrupted hour together.

"What are you going to tell her?"

"I don't know."

"The truth?"

"Char, I don't know if I can."

Nick's eyes darted restlessly, unable to focus on one spot for too long. Charlie watched him helplessly.

"Hey," Charlie gripped Nick's face between his hands. "Look at me."

The brown eyes stilled and softened marginally as they found blue.

"You don't have to tell anyone anything," Charlie whispered. "I would never, ever make you do that. Okay?"

Nick nodded meekly, half incredibly grateful for his boyfriend's understanding, half furious at himself for still not being able to just tell the truth.

He allowed Charlie to take the phone from his hand.

Charlie quickly texted Sarah back, explaining about the cancellation, apologising for not alerting her earlier, and assuring her they were only at the park, therefore closer to home and no longer in need of a lift.

He dropped the phone back into Nick's blazer pocket and held out a surprisingly steady hand. Fingers entwined, Nick and Charlie stepped out from the shadow of the willow tree and headed back down the path, toward home, back toward the rest of the world.

Thanks for reading! Leave a nice comment if you like x