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They arrived at the art opening as it was already in full swing—people were inside looking at the art, people were standing around outside talking. It felt very … grown-up. Elle, looking quite elegant, met them in the courtyard once all of them had arrived.

She took Isaac's arm and they walked inside together, the others following them.

There were so many people. Somehow Nick hadn't expected the room to be so full. It felt like the Louvre, but so much more … electric. Like it was all happening now.

A girl came rushing up to Elle to tell her how much she loved her art piece. "I'm so excited for it to be revealed later. And I can't wait to see what art you make when you start with us in September."

Elle turned to face them all, smiling nervously.

"You got in?" Isaac asked.

"Yeah."

Charlie and Isaac both hugged her, but Tao didn't move. Nick wondered if he'd known—it didn't look like he had. Well, Elle going away was a big deal. They'd have a lot to talk about, and their relationship was so new. Nick was glad he and Charlie had two more years before they had to deal with that.

Everyone separated after that, wandering the gallery and looking at the art on display. Nick didn't have a creative bone in his body, and it amazed him how people were able to translate their ideas into so many different kinds of art.

At last, they all gathered round Elle's piece, which had been covered all night, excited for the big reveal. She was invited to come up and talk about her inspiration. Nick would have been terrified, talking in front of all these people, but Elle was very poised and calm.

"So … there have been a lot of changes in my life over the last couple of years, but, with this piece, I guess I wanted to capture a place that holds a lot of happy memories. Even in the darker times. Somewhere I always felt … safe."

The principal removed the cloth covering, and … it was beautiful. The art room, with Charlie and Tao and Isaac and Elle all together, in that year that had been so difficult and when they had come together to support each other. Everyone applauded, and Charlie and Isaac surged forward to hug her. After some hesitation, Tao joined them, and the four of them held on to each other.

Nick and Charlie left shortly after. The dinner with their families was also tonight, and Nick had promised to help his mum with it if they could get home early.

They were both bubbling over with excitement for Elle as they left the building. "Every single piece there was amazing," Nick said, "but yeah, Elle's is, like, in a different league."

"It was."

"Literally ridiculous." She was so talented. He wasn't surprised she'd gotten in.

And then Ben Hope was standing in front of them, and both of them stopped speaking and just stared at him.

Nick stepped between him and Charlie. "What are you doing here?"

"I n— I need to talk to you." He seemed unusually nervous. Good. He should.

"There's nothing to talk about." Nick moved back to Charlie's side, taking his hand and starting to pull him away.

"I just want to apologise," Ben called after them. Charlie pulled Nick to a stop, turning to look at Ben, who added softly, "Properly. Please. Just hear me out."

Charlie looked at Nick, who wanted to drag Charlie away and hold him tight and keep him away from Ben—but this really wasn't his decision to make. It was Charlie's.

"I'm not going back to Truham for sixth form," Ben continued, "so … if you really hate me after this, you'll never see me again."

Looking up at Nick again, Charlie let go of his hand and walked the distance between himself and Ben. Nick followed, but stayed a little behind, just to be there if Charlie needed him. "Go on, then."

"I'm a messed-up person, Charlie. I liked you. You know that, don't you?" He smiled. He actually smiled. Like there had been anything good about it. "I know I was a piece of shit, but I really liked you. If I'd just had more time … I want to be like you two, but … my parents would never accept who I really am. I'm sorry. For everything. I just … wanted something good." Ben smiled again. "You were something good."

Charlie hesitated. Nick wished he could see his face, be sure he was okay. But when he spoke, his voice was clear and calm and sure of himself. "Do you remember the first time you kissed me?"

Ben smiled and nodded like that was a good memory for him.

"You didn't even ask. You didn't pause to wonder whether it was what I wanted, and I went along with it because I had a crush, and I didn't know any better. I didn't realise that you had all the control." He took a deep breath. "When I eventually did realise, I thought 'this must be what I deserve'—someone taking whatever he wants from me whenever he wants. Treating me like I'm nothing the rest of the time. Now, whenever anything good happens in my life, there's a little voice in the back of my mind telling me I'm worthless, and that I don't deserve it. And now you want me to forgive you so you can feel better about yourself?"

Ben hadn't said a word, or moved a muscle, the whole time, but his face twisted more and more as Charlie spoke.

"I'm glad you realise what you did was wrong," Charlie continued, his voice rising, "but you don't get to ambush me into forgiving you. 'Sorry' doesn't make up for everything you did to me. I really hope you become a better person so you don't hurt anyone else. But I don't want to be there to see that happen. I don't want to see you ever again."

Nick wanted to cry. He wanted to hold Charlie close and tell him how amazing he was and that he deserved every good thing that could ever happen to him. But now wasn't that time. When Charlie turned back to him, he held Charlie's hand and let him lead them out of the courtyard and away from the art gallery.

By the time they were halfway home, Charlie still hadn't said a word, and Nick was okay with that, but he wanted to say … something. At last he asked softly, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." He wasn't, Nick could see that. "I don't really want to talk about it. Not right now."

"Of course. Is it … is it okay if I say I'm proud of you? You needed to say those things … and he needed to hear them."

"Thanks." Charlie squeezed Nick's hand.

"Just—I promise, this is the last thing. Charlie, if I ever make you feel—"

"You don't."

"Never?" Because all that time that he couldn't come out, all the time he was making Charlie keep them a secret—

"Never."

"But if the voice in your head ever—"

Charlie squeezed his hand to make him stop. "Nick. It's my voice, in my head. It's not about you."

"I know. At least—I'm trying to know. I just … I don't ever want you to feel like you don't deserve … everything."

"I know you don't. Really. Just—sometimes knowing isn't enough."

Nick nodded. "I get that." He stroked the back of Charlie's hand with his thumb. "And you didn't want to talk about it, and here I am. Sorry."

"What have we said about that word?" Charlie teased him.

"It's our favourite?" Nick forced a smile.

"Seems like it. Now … on to the next exciting part of our day. How are you feeling about the dinner with your dad?"

"Okay? I guess? I don't know. Did you—did you tell your parents not to say anything?" He felt guilty about that, too. This was his family—he should have wanted to tell his father, should have been able to have a conversation with him.

"Yeah."

"I'm—" Nick stopped and cleared his throat. "I wish it didn't have to be like this. If I could have found the words to tell him in Paris—"

"He left before you could tell him anything," Charlie reminded him. "That's not your fault. You tried."

"Yeah. Maybe." But not hard enough.

They sat in silence the rest of the way back.