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At some point, Charlie grew concerned about how much time was passing. His mum was coming round on Nick, but even on prom night, it wouldn't do to blow past the curfew she'd set by too much. Nick was asleep, or nearly so, and Charlie hated to wake him enough that he considered just slipping out of bed and letting him sleep, but … this was prom night, and he did want his good-night kiss.

"I need to go home soon," he said softly, reluctantly.

Nick stirred and sleepily shook his head. "No."

Charlie laughed. "My mum will get annoyed if I'm late."

"Hm." Nick's eyes were open now, and he was looking at Charlie like he never wanted to let him go. They kissed, once and then again, and when Nick would have kept going Charlie laughed.

"I see what you're doing."

"Agh! My plan's been foiled."

Charlie stood up. He should go, he really should, but … he didn't want to. Instead he let himself be distracted by the wall of shiny trophies in front of him. "You've got so many rugby trophies." He took one down.

Nick chuckled. "That one's from summer camp."

"You went to rugby summer camp?"

"When I was twelve. I think I had a crush on the instructor."

"Oh, my God." Charlie laughed.

"You know, I didn't realise it at the time, but looking back now, I was obsessed with him, so I tried really, really hard and, uh, got that trophy for being the best team player."

"That is so adorable." He put the trophy back on its shelf. And instead of leaving, sank down onto Nick's beanbag chair, looking at him across the room. God, he was beautiful.

"Now your turn," Nick said. He looked nervous suddenly.

"What?"

"Tell me something."

"Like what?"

"You never told me about …" Nick's voice was quavering, and he stopped, taking a breath before he finished, "the bullying. What that was like."

Charlie felt so cold suddenly. He didn't want to think about that. Not tonight. Not at all. "We don't need to talk about that. Everything's fine now."

"Is everything fine?" Nick asked. "I know you like everything to be fine and happy and perfect all the time, but … you don't have to be perfect with me."

Drawing his knees up, Charlie tightened his arms round him, pulling into himself. Nick got off his bed and came to sit next to him, facing him.

"Charlie, we said we'd tell each other things." He took Charlie's cold hand in his warm ones, unraveling the ball of unhappiness Charlie had wrapped himself up in. "After you told me about your … eating thing."

They had said that. But Charlie hadn't really meant it. Not … not when it came to this. But—he'd never told anyone, not really. And Nick was his boyfriend. Charlie loved him. More, Charlie trusted him. He forced himself to begin. "Someone just heard Tao talking about me coming out. I think it surprised me how homophobic people were. I thought things were better nowadays." He hesitated, not wanting to continue. But he did want to, too. It felt—strange but not terrible to be telling Nick these things, and to have Nick listen, his eyes on Charlie's face, his fingers stroking Charlie's hand. "People would just … call me disgusting to my face. And it went on for so long I think I started to believe what they were saying. It made me really hate myself." He had never said anything like that to anyone before. Nick's eyes were still on him, wet with unshed tears. So Charlie dared to say the rest, the thing he had never even considered telling anyone. "So much that I … I used to …" It was so hard to admit to it. He wanted to pretend it had never happened. "I used to cut myself sometimes." He fought back his tears. "I don't want to feel like that anymore."

Nick, clearly unable to find words, reached forward and pulled Charlie into his arms, holding him close. The things he'd never told anyone, whispered here in this room where he had always felt safe, and Nick hadn't turned away, he hadn't called Charlie names. He was still here.

They held on so tight, as if they would never have to let go. Both of them were crying.

"Do you still do that now?" Nick asked.

His face buried in Nick's shoulder, Charlie said, "No." He pulled back, looking at Nick. "Sorry."

"I thought we'd banned the S word." Charlie smiled a little. Nick whispered, "Can you promise to tell me if it ever gets that bad again?"

Charlie couldn't look him in the eyes. He didn't want to make that promise. He didn't want to be a project, or constantly bring Nick his issues, or be seen like some … damaged thing. "I just don't want to annoy you or burden you. I don't want you to think I'm some fragile, broken mess. Like you need to fix me. I would hate that."

Nick shook his head, his eyes still on Charlie's. "You're not. And I wouldn't. But I've done so many things that were scary in the past few months because you were there, holding my hand. And I want to be that for you, too."

There was no question but that he meant every single word. And it was true—Charlie wanted to think of Nick as perfect, as strong and brave, as someone who didn't need anyone, but … Charlie had been there when he stood up to his father, when he came out, when he realised he had feelings for another boy, when they walked into prom together tonight, openly a couple. For the first time, he understood that he brought as much to their relationship as Nick did, that Nick truly needed him, the way he needed Nick.

"Like … you're my boyfriend," Nick whispered. "Char. Can you just please, please promise me?"

He wasn't asking to fix, or to stop. Just to know. Just to be part of the bad parts of Charlie's life as well as the good. "Okay." It was a small word, and hard to say, but … it was the biggest promise Charlie had ever made.

Nick's hand came up, the fingers burying themselves in Charlie's hair, and he tilted his head forward to kiss him on the forehead, before pressing their foreheads together to reach for a proper kiss.

They pulled apart, and Charlie smiled, feeling Nick's fingers restlessly in his hair. "I love your hair so much," Nick said softly.

"Nick. I really need to go." He had no idea what time it was, but his mum was going to have a fit.

"I love your eyes," Nick said, ignoring him.

"For God's sake." Charlie laughed.

"I love—" He stopped, and they looked at each other.

Charlie held his breath. He wanted to say it, but he wanted Nick to finish what he had started to say, just in case they weren't ready for that yet.

Before Nick could say anything more, they heard the door open below them and his mum's voice calling, "Nicky! I'm home!"

They looked at each other, but the moment had passed. Charlie got to his feet. "I really have to go."

"I wish you didn't have to."

"I wish I didn't either." For a moment, he thought about telling Nick his fantasy, that this was their house together, but … it wasn't the time for that either. Not tonight.

"Here." Nick pulled out a jumper. "So you don't get cold on the walk home."

Charlie didn't protest. This one smelled exactly like Nick.

They stopped at the front door, kissing and smiling at each other. The words were on the tip of Charlie's tongue, but somehow they couldn't quite make it past. "I'll text you when I get home."

"Okay." Reluctantly, Nick let his hand fall from the side of Charlie's face.

Equally reluctantly, Charlie stepped out into the night.

Nick stood there, leaning against the door, smiling. Charlie couldn't believe this was actually his life, this was actually his boyfriend.

Again he started to say it, and again he couldn't quite manage it. "I'll see you tomorrow." And the day after, and the day after …

"Bye."

At last, Charlie managed to turn away, looking back over his shoulder until Nick's house was no longer in sight.

He took his phone out of his pocket. It was after midnight. Not too much past curfew … hopefully his mum would make an exception for prom night. But it didn't matter, because if Charlie had anything to say about it, he and Nick were forever.

Unlocking the phone, he opened directly to their text thread, typing out those three words that were so hard to say. "I love you …"

His finger hovered over the send button.