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It’s a bright, windy day in March, and students all over campus are taking advantage of the first decent weather they’ve had all year. The rugby lads are just a few of many boisterous groups to mill around the park as they toss a frisbee around.
There are people on walks, sitting on benches chatting with friends, others playing games like the boys. Nick notices one couple trying to have a picnic, the edges of their blanket being tossed about. It was a cute idea, he thinks, but the wind isn’t really letting them enjoy it.
A group of students is walking down the path in his direction, talking animatedly about something. He hears a shout of laughter, and then others join in. He turns to look.
There, in the middle of the group, is a slender guy with curly hair wearing skinny jeans with rips in the knees, an oversized cable knit sweater, and high top converse. He has a smirk on his face and Nick is immediately struck by him, intrigued by the allure he has among his friends. Most of them are turned towards him even as some walk slightly ahead of him, as if he were the ringleader or unifying factor among the six of them. (One has his nose in a book.)
Something brushes past Nick, barely grazing the sleeve on his upper arm, but he doesn’t glance around to see what it was. He’s too focused on understanding the group dynamics. They’re getting nearer, and he can make out what some of them are saying if they speak loud enough. Three girls giggle together about something, and the boy in the jumper chuckles and gestures emphatically as he says, “Exactly!”
The reader among them looks up from his book with a grin “Charlie, did you tell them about…”
Jumper Guy whips his head around to shush his friend, but it seems to be too late. The girls all look at him teasingly, and the tallest among them shouts, “Yes, Charlie!”
“Oh my god, I want to hear all the juicy details,” another darker-skinned girl says, “But can we get coffee first?”
“Yassss! At the kitty cafe!”
“Nooo, Darce, I mean a quick stop for good coffee, not two hours and weak espresso.”
“Sorry Darcy, I’m with Tara,” says the guy in the jumper (Charlie, apparently).
Nick is startled by a sing-song voice alarmingly close to his ear. “Earth to Ni-ick?” His head whips around to find the source and he finds Christian standing right beside him, a look of amusement and annoyance on his face.
“The frisbee came by ages ago, mate! What’s got you so distracted?”
He turns back to look at the group once more. They’ve stopped on the path just metres away, apparently still arguing over which direction they’re headed by the snippets of conversation that are carried on the wind.
“Oh, what about the farmer’s market?”
“Can we go to the charity shops? I want to look for more…”
It gives Nick an improved view of Jumper Guy. The jumper is palest blue or possibly grey, and it’s a perfect contrast to his dark brown curls, which are being tousled softly in the breeze. He looks like he would be at home in a library or a museum, bookish and nerdy, but in a self-assured way that Nick envies.
The boy glances round the park, a small smile on his face as his friends shout suggestions and argue good-naturedly, when his eyes find Nick’s. They flick up and down and then hold his gaze as the guy raises one eyebrow, amusement never leaving his expression.
Nick feels his face flush warm, probably from being caught staring, and he finally pries his eyes away. He sees Christian still standing beside him, also raising an eyebrow at him. Ignoring the look from his friend, he walks over to where the frisbee had landed.
“Sorry,” he says, handing the disc to his teammate.
Christian hums. “Not like you, mate? What were you staring at? One of the girls?”
Nick’s cheeks grow warmer and he runs a hand through his hair. “No. I just… I liked that guy’s outfit.”
He looks again, just one more time, to see the group of friends have decided on a direction and are walking to the edge of the park. Jumper Guy trails at the rear and looks back at Nick once more.
“What?” Christian asks, drawing his attention again. “Skinny jeans and a pullover? That’s never really been your style?”
Nick barks out a short laugh as he finally turns away. “Have I ever even had a proper style? But… I mean, I don’t know. I just like the look. He looked cool, but approachable? I’m not necessarily saying I want to wear the outfit, but I did like it. But also I could change my ‘style’ if I wanted.”
If this Charlie guy had been in his periphery before the day in the park, Nick had failed to notice. But ever since that day it seems they share the same orbit.
As blustery March softens into a calmer but still chilly April, he notices the guy quite a few times: in the student union; at his favourite cafe; in the campus library; exiting the Arts & Humanities building. Each time, he’s wearing some variation of the outfit Nick had liked so much in the park. Always in skinny jeans, he’s also worn a grey jumper with leaves in muted colours, a navy cardigan thrown over a band shirt, and a camel-coloured cable knit paired with smart black jeans.
After nearly colliding with Charlie on the steps of the library one day (and admiring his ginger jumper), Nick has to do something. He makes up his mind. Never mind that it’s no longer winter; never mind that he runs warm. He needs to buy some jumpers of his own, because the dark-haired boy’s sense of style is calling to him. So when he finishes his last class of the afternoon the following day, he stashes his rucksack in his flat and goes right back out to catch the bus to a local charity shop.
Once in Headingley, he pops into a cafe for a tea and nearly doesn’t recognize the person reading at the table by the door. It takes a full minute of staring rather obviously, trying to place the sable curls and slight smirk on the boy’s face, because he isn’t actually wearing a jumper or cardigan at all! Today Charlie has on a maroon flannel open over a grey tee. If you had asked Nick yesterday what he thought of flannel shirts as a fashion choice, he wouldn’t have had any opinion whatsoever. In this moment, however, he realises that they are actually quite nice. Maybe he’ll look for a few of them on his errand, too.
The boy looks up just as Nick nears the exit. The blonde is of course caught staring once again. He justifies it to himself: it’s perfectly reasonable to consider another person’s outfit closely as you wonder if you could pull off something similar… right? That’s an acceptable reason to stare at someone? Nevertheless, his face flames as the stranger smiles a challenge at him. Rather than ponder the meaning of it, Nick ducks his head and dashes out the door.
Tea in hand, he heads to his favourite thrift store. The myriad clothing racks in Leeds charity shops are always overstuffed with recent donations, so he meanders through the maze for a good while until he finds his first destination: jumpers.
An hour and some later, after several trips to the changing rooms, Nick walks out with his arms full: three jumpers, two pairs of skinny jeans, one pair of chinos, two flannel shirts, and even a pair of high top Converse. He felt like he was cheating on his Vans by trying those on, but they pulled the look together, so he talked himself into them.
Back in his flat, Nick tries on his new clothes once again. Black skinny jeans and dark wash blue ones are alternated as he tries on a charcoal grey jumper, a sage green one, and his favourite find of the day, a cream-coloured cable knit sweater that reminds him of something his late grandpa would wear. Next are a dark blue flannel and a lighter goldenrod one. He’s not convinced on the fit of the skinny jeans, but he’s determined to give them a chance. Charlie is always dressed impeccably, and he’s always in this kind of trouser, Nick figures. He does change out of the denim to try the chinos on. They fit him a tad more comfortably, but again… He’s going to give the skinny jeans a fighting chance.
As he rotates his new outfits over the next few weeks, he brushes off wisecracks from friends, teammates, and even comments from a barista and one of his lecturers. “It’s a bit of a drastic change, innit?” they ask. “I’m just not sure it’s… you,” they say. Nick frowns and grumbles somewhat under his breath whenever these moments happen, though if he’s honest, he’s not convinced himself. It’s also getting a little warm to be wearing these jumpers. On the other hand, he doesn’t really want to go back to the old version of himself. That feels like it would be denying the way Jumper Guy changed him.
He finds himself dwelling on this a lot walking around campus or sitting in the quiet library. There’s something about it all that keeps niggling at him. Why does he feel like a different person, a different version of himself? He’s not sure what it is about these new clothes that feels so life-altering.
It’s an unseasonably warm day in mid May when something finally tugs at the threads and Nick realises the change might hold more insight into himself than just informing his personal style. His usual cafe has set up their outdoor seating in front of the entrance, and he’s got his books spread out while he works on a paper. It’s a gorgeous afternoon, which unfortunately means it’s not very conducive to concentrating. Nick has spent far more time watching passersby or admiring the deepening green of the trees planted along the streets than he has looking at his materials. Just as he ducks his head to try to focus, he senses more movement out of the corner of his eye. He looks up again to see him, Jumper Guy, walking up ahead.
Except… the moniker no longer seems apt. It’s been weeks since Nick’s seen him in a jumper, and then there's today. The dark-haired boy’s denim cut-offs are rather short and a pastel striped shirt hangs off his lithe frame. Nick is taking in the whole outfit, looking Charlie up and down. When he finally looks back at the boy’s face, there’s a redness to his cheeks, a gleam in his eyes and a hint of smile that all do… something to the knots in Nick’s stomach.
The boy bites his lip and looks away as he walks into the cafe. Nick's eyes follow. He frowns as he wonders to himself why he can’t stop looking. This time he knows for sure that he doesn’t want to wear that outfit, but it’s so nice to look at when Charlie wears it. It looks good. He looks… good. Oh.
Startling as it is, the realisation settles in Nick’s chest in a familiar way. It reminds him of when he scored a try in his first rugby game, of the first time he sat in a primary classroom for observance… times he felt like he belonged, like he’d found another piece of himself.
It occurs to him that any moment now, Charlie could walk back out here, and Nick is definitely not prepared for that now. He rushes to gather his things in his rucksack and starts walking home. He’s not going to get much done with so much to think about.
As he walks off, he pulls out his phone to text his best friend from his hometown.
[Nick]
Please tell me you’re free for a video call today. Having a bit of an identity crisis
[Immy 🌸]
Yes of course anything for you 💖 You okay?
[Nick]
Yeah, I think so. Just need to talk to someone about this like really soon
“Im, thank god.”
“Nicholas! You look nice. Have you been getting some sun? Your freckles have, like, doubled since I saw you in January.”
“Ha, yeah, I’ve been spending loads of time outside since the weather’s turned. It’s been nice.”
“It suits you, babes. Now tell me, what is this wee crisis?”
He sucks in a breath. “So… there’s this guy.”
Imogen Heaney has been in Nick’s life since Year 7. They’ve been close friends since Year 10. He supported her throughout sixth form as she was figuring out her own queerness and coming out as pansexual. If they were lesser friends, Nick might not have caught the moment her eyes widened in surprise before softening into a look of understanding and fondness, but he does. She nods and waits for him to continue, and he loves her for not vocalising shock or glee as he bares his newfound soul.
“I noticed him a couple of months ago?” he continues uncertainly. “In the park. He was in this oversized jumper and ripped black skinny jeans and high top converse, and I was such a fool, Immy, I thought I liked his outfit.”
She cackles. “Oh my god, was that the reason for this Nicholas Grandpa Jumper era?”
Nick laughs along with her, his cheeks growing warm as he reflects on his recent self. “Yes. Yes, he really was. I kept seeing him everywhere after that, and each time I saw him in a different cosy jumper, I was just thinking his outfit was cool. I spent ages going through charity shops to match his style.”
“That’s sort of a queer rite of passage, honestly.”
“What do you mean?”
Imogen explains. “Seeing a person, especially your own gender, who looks really good and having to ask yourself ‘Do I want to be them or do I want to be with them?’”
Nick’s eyes grow wide. “That’s exactly what was so confusing! I thought it was the former for two months.”
“Sooo what finally clicked?”
He purses his lips, feeling amused and embarrassed over his reaction earlier that day. “I saw him again this afternoon. I was sitting out front at the cafe working on a paper and he walked up. It’s super warm here today and he was wearing a rainbow pastel shirt and these cut offs, and I just…”
Imogen places a hand over her mouth to cover her squeal.
“Yeah. My brain short-circuited or something. I just stared. I definitely got caught, too.”
“Down bad?”
The noise Nick makes at that question is one he didn’t know humans were capable of—something between a grunt of assent and a pitiful whimper.
She bites back a smirk as she looks at him sagely. “So when you said you were having ‘a bit of an identity crisis’, you meant—”
“A proper, full-on gay crisis, yes.”
“I love this journey for you!” she exclaims sincerely.
Nicks blushes again as he sighs. “How is this my life, Im?”
Her brow furrows. “Whaddyou mean?”
“I mean… ” Nick pauses to think of how to phrase his question. “I mean, how am I just now realising I can like boys?”
“Oh, babes,” she says, her frown melting away. “There’s no age limit on learning new things about yourself. And we’re still quite young, you’re not late to anything!”
A moment of silence passes between them as Nick internalises her wisdom.
“Now, then. Tell me more about this guy. What does he look like; what’s his name? Have you ever even spoken to him?”
Nick smiles sheepishly as he answers her last question first. “No, we’ve not actually met. I’m pretty sure his name is Charlie, though, I’ve overheard people talking to him. I see him around a lot, with friends… or dates,” he says, realising that any or all of the various people he’s seen in Charlie’s company might be partners. He pouts, then shakes his head to clear away the emotions that were awoken at that thought.
Looking back up at his phone screen, he continues. “Er, he’s sort of slender, looks a bit nerdy but in a cool way. And his hair is very dark and very curly.”
“Oh, well there you have it!” Imogen cries triumphantly.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I understand now.”
Nick just stares at his friend.
“Nick,” she says with an exaggerated eye roll, “He’s a textbook example of your type. Dorky with dark, curly hair? Ring any bells?”
It’s a few weeks after his revelation, the term finally winding down before the summer holidays. Nick is at the student union for caffeine and to study away from his hall full of lads who’d rather party than work on final papers. As he stands at the front of the coffee queue waiting for someone to take his order, his thoughts once again turn to the boy who’s unravelled everything for him in such a short time.
More phone calls with Imogen, a vulnerable visit with his mum, and quite a lot of googling and research about bisexuality have helped Nick feel more comfortable and sure as he’s continued to learn more about himself. He even came out to a couple of the rugby lads he’s closest to. As his flatmate, Sai was the first uni friend he told. He was supportive and tactful about it, though Nick’s pretty sure by the guy’s reaction that it didn’t come as a surprise.
Christian was next and immediately asked if it was the guy from the park. Nick had just gaped at him then, shocked that his least observant friend had caught on so quickly.
Admitting to himself that he had a crush on Charlie was a relief, but now he cringes every time he opens his wardrobe only to be confronted by the jumpers. Soon he’ll need to make some difficult decisions.
Shortly after Nick has settled into a booth with an iced coffee, a boy who looks vaguely familiar walks over to him and places a brightly coloured flyer on his table. “Clothes Swap, organised by students, this Saturday. In case you’ve got any clothes that don’t fit or aren’t your style anymore.”
Reaching for the paper, Nick glances up at him. “How did you know?” He asks with a rueful smile.
Saturday afternoon, Nick gathers up the clothing items he’d opted to give away, including the flannels and all but one jumper he’d thrifted. He still kind of likes the cream-coloured one, but ever since he’d realised his interest in Charlie had never been about wanting to wear similar outfits, he hasn't felt so attached to the itchier ones.
He places them in a bag for life and heads down to a lawn in front of a small building in the middle of campus. There are tables set up in rows and dozens of students milling about.
He is greeted by a girl whose blonde dye job is several weeks old, judging by the brown roots of her hair. “Hi!” she says excitedly. “Glad you’ve come to this fabulous clothing swap! Those four rows are for shirts, t-shirts, jumpers, and so on, organised by season. And the other tables are trousers, shorts, skirts, and dresses.”
“Thanks, I’ve mostly got winter clothes.”
“”Right over there, my guy!”
Nick wanders over and draws the pile of clothes out of his bag. He places the flannels on the table right away among other midweight shirts good for temperate weather. He walks further down to the end of the table and unfolds the sage green jumper, considering once more whether to keep it. But no—it wouldn’t be a useful article of clothing in his wardrobe, merely a reminder of Charlie and his oversized jumpers. And if he’s honest, he doesn’t need anything to recall how the boy just looked so cuddly wearing them.
As if he manifested his appearance by thinking about him, Nick hears an “Um, hi” just to his left and looks over to see Charlie standing beside him.
Oh, for fucks sake.
Today the brunette is wearing a large denim jacket over a white tee shirt and black jorts. It’s so simple but looks so good on him.
He realises he’s being very obvious and his eyes snap back up to a face bearing a slight smirk. He smiles awkwardly. “Hi?”
“I’m Charlie. Thanks for bringing a few items. My friends and I organised this and we weren’t really sure it would be a hit. I hope you look around a bit too!”
“Oh! Yeah, I was glad to have some place to drop off things I don’t ever wear. I’d peruse if I could, but I’ve got plans soon.”
“Ah. Well, then I shouldn’t monopolise your time…”
“No, please! I’m not dashing off just yet. Please monopolise my time.” He sounds desperate, but he really doesn’t mind. He needs to follow this thread as far as it will go.
Charlie grins widely, and Nick notices he has dimples for the first time. He thinks to himself that if he’d seen those before, he might have realised it wasn’t about the jumpers a little sooner.
“Right. Well, I mainly just wanted to meet you. I see you around campus all the time. I’ve been… curious.”
“Curious?” Nick sucks in a breath. “About me?”
“Yes, about you.”
He hums, feeling bashful yet triumphant over that. “What are you curious about?”
“Oh, so many things,” Charlie says with a gleam in his eye. “But your name, first and foremost.”
That startles a laugh out of him. “Right,” he says with a grin. “I’m Nick.”
“Hi, Nick.”
They smile at each other for a moment, then Nick shakes himself out of his daze. “Hi,” he laughs. “Er, so you and your friends organised this?”
“We did! We’re all in the Pride Soc together and tend to raid each other’s closets all the time. Sort of gave us the idea.”
The blonde feels his face warm at this confirmation that Charlie was queer—probably? Allies could go to Pride Soc, but he doesn’t think that’s the case here.
“That’s really cool. Pride Soc, huh? I should attend next year.”
“Yeah?” Dark curls flop to the side as Charlie tilts his head curiously.
“Mmhmm. I went to several meetings last year. At the time I thought I was an ally.” Nick laughs to himself. “I’ve realised sort of recently that I’m bi? I don’t know why it hasn’t occurred to me to attend meetings since then. Might have helped a lot.”
The other boy smiles sweetly and opens his mouth as if to reply, but just then Nick’s phone vibrates in his pocket.
“Oh, shit. I’ve got to go meet up with a friend.” He frowns apologetically. “I’d love to talk more another time?”
“Definitely! My friends and I are going bowling tonight, you’re welcome to join us?”
“That’d be great!”
Charlie hands him his phone. “If you put your number in, I’ll text you the details.”
Later that evening, Nick walks into Roxy Lanes and looks around. The venue is dim, with minimal blue and purple lighting around the games. It’s loud and crowded with students as it usually is on Saturday nights, but thankfully Charlie sees him and comes over.
He flashes a brilliant smile, dimples and all. “You came!”
“Yeah, of course I did! Did you think I wouldn’t?”
The dark-haired boy shrugs nonchalantly, but there’s a flash of uncertainty in his expression. Nick wonders to himself how this gorgeous person could have doubted. Surely anyone would drop everything at the first invitation to spend time with him.
“Is everyone waiting or do I have time to order food?”
“Definitely order something, we’ve already started one game and it’s still going! I’ll come with you, I want another drink.”
“Do you not need to get back over there?” Nick asks, walking over to join the queue at the bar.
Charlie laughs. “Nah, I told Darcy she could bowl for me, she’d be disappointed if I got back too early.”
Nick places an order for dirty chips and a beer and then turns back to Charlie.
“Darcy? Was she at the clothing swap this morning? Blonde hair, really bubbly?”
“That was her! She’s all sunshine and tie-dye and chaos in lesbian form.”
Nick laughs in surprise and delight. “She sounds great.”
“Oh she is. Actually, she has tasked me with getting a round of shots for the group. You up for that?”
“O-oh. Yeah, sure.”
Once their orders are ready, Nick follows Charlie over to Lane 17, where five others are already mid-game.
“Everyone, this is Nick!” Charlie announces cheerfully, placing the tray of shots on the table. “And these are our lemon drops!”
The group goes around introducing themselves. Nick recognises them from the numerous times he’d checked out Charlie’s “outfits” over the past few months. There’s Darcy from this morning and her girlfriend Tara. A tall girl named Elle introduces her boyfriend, a shorter guy wearing a beanie and a frown, as Tao. The last boy takes his nose out of a book for a few minutes to introduce himself as Isaac.
Nick’s eyes grow wide as he puts two and two together. “Oh, you’re the one who gave me the flyer for the clothes swap!”
Isaac grins. From the way Charlie gapes at his friend and Darcy covertly high fives the guy, Nick thinks that must have been an attempt at meddling, though he wonders to what end.
As Tara jumps for her turn to bowl, Charlie turns to Nick. “How was your time with your friend?”
“What, did you come straight from plans with someone else? And that’s why you were late?” Tao interrupts.
Nick finds himself shrinking under the intensity of the boy’s gaze. “Yeah, it’s my mate’s birthday, so I bought him dinner.”
“So you’ve abandoned your friend on his birthday to come here,” Beanie Boy accuses.
“He’s at a party surrounded by the entire rugby team and then some. I don’t think he cares that I’m not there.”
A tight, insincere smile stretches taut across Tao’s face. “Oh, you’re a rugby lad?” He shoots a pointed look at Charlie.
Nick follows his gaze, looking at Charlie with a question. The curly-haired boy seems to have a silent conversation with his friend, spoken in expressive eyebrows and hard stares, before giving Nick a teasing look.
“That would explain the arms,” he says.
“The arms?”
“Strong rugby arms. Do they give you any advantage at bowling, Nick?” the boy asks as Tao stalks off for his turn.
If he weren’t so nervous, Nick would laugh at himself, certain his stunned expression resembled a deer in headlights. That was flirting, right? Charlie was flirting… with him?! He tries to find words, to not be awkward. “I dunno. Maybe when I’m not drinking?”
Charlie smirks. “That’s the whole fun of bowling here, though. The good ones are shit when they’re tipsy, so the rest of us have a fighting chance. Sometimes I think I’m a better bowler when I’m drunk.”
Nick smiles back at him. “I mean, if I can overthink something I will, so I probably do it better when I’m drunk enough to not… I don’t think that came out right.”
The giggle he gets in response puts his stomach in knots. He’s feeling more intoxicated by the minute, and he suspects it isn’t just the alcohol. The crash of pins and a triumphant shout draws Charlie’s attention away from him, and Nick feels like pouting.
“Your turn,” Tao says smugly as he struts back to his seat. “See if you can do better.”
“Do you wanna give it a go?” Charlie asks Nick, gesturing to the lane. “You can bowl for me.”
“Oh! You sure?”
“Yep,” the brunette says with a grin, popping the “p.” He wraps his fingers around one of Nick’s biceps, and the hairs on the back of the taller man’s neck stand up. “Show me what you can do with these.”
Nick ducks his head in a futile attempt to hide his blush. “Oookay,” he says shakily. He sets his beer down on the table and goes over to choose a ball of a comfortable weight.
He can feel Charlie’s eyes on him even as he’s turned away.
Nick fumbles his first couple attempts out of nerves, but once the second game starts and he’s bowling for himself every round, he gets more into the movement of it. In between turns, he talks with the girls and with Isaac and Charlie, though Tao remains standoffish towards him.
He also finds himself watching Charlie’s turns at the lane. The rugby team has gone bowling together before, but now that Nick is here with someone he likes, he has a growing appreciation for the vantage point. Noticing Charlie’s toned calves and graceful movements, he muses that the boy must be a runner.
“Nick?”
“Hmm?” He turns to Elle, who’s looking at him knowingly. Oops. He definitely hasn’t been listening. With a sheepish grin, he asks her to repeat herself. “Sorry, what did you say?”
Darcy snorts. “Charlie said you’re a baby gay, yeah?”
Nick blushes. “If that means I’ve recently discovered my queerness, then yeah. Although for me it would be baby bi?”
Tara gives him a genuine smile. “Baby gay is inclusive of all queer orientations, but I’m happy to be specific for you. There will be no bi erasure on our watch!”
Darcy nods her agreement. “Anyway, tell me young Nick, in your research have you come across the term ‘bisexual disaster’?”
Tara and Elle snicker as he blushes deep red, but he holds his head high in feigned defiance. “Yes, I have, and I would be proud to identify as such.”
There’s a joyful cry as Charlie bowls a spare. He practically skips back over the table. “I did it!” he squeals, grasping Nick’s arm. Half a second later, he seems to take back the action, pulling his hand back and quickly turning bashful. Nick reaches out to squeeze Charlie’s hand and beams at him. As he does, the dimples pop out again, and the boys just grin at each other.
“Ahem.” Elle nudges Nick from her seat next to him. “It’s your turn.”
He doesn’t mean to eavesdrop as he goes to grab his ball. It’s just that there’s a rare lull in the blaring music, crashing pins, and shouts of students, and in the relative quiet he hears Elle say softly to Charlie, “I think you’ve found a good one.”
Nick bowls a strike, but the jubilant feeling bubbling up in him has nothing to do with that particular success.
He ultimately wins the second game, and the group decides to move on to the arcade side. Nick moves to follow them, but Charlie holds him back in a corner while the others disperse to racing games or the dance machine.
“That was a good game,” the shorter boy says, stepping closer. “Want a well done kiss?”
Nick swallows, mesmerised by the blue eyes twinkling up at him. “God, yes.”
Charlie’s hand comes up to cup Nick’s jaw and tilt his face downward. He presses a lingering kiss to Nick’s mouth once, and then again. As the blonde sighs and melts into it, he feels Charlie smile against his lips. Nick pulls him in by the hips, and the hand on his jaw wraps around to the nape of his neck as Charlie deepens the kiss.
He cannot remember the last time he was so hungry for a kiss. He’s never been one for excessive PDA, but then again, he’s never gotten so caught up in another person that he lost all sense of where he was. When Charlie pulls away, Nick feels dazed, unsure how much time has passed. Charlie’s eyes are dark and his lips are slick with spit as he grins.
Nick doesn’t want to let go yet. He tightens his arms around the other boy’s waist. “How soon do you leave for the summer? You’re not a third year are you? You’ll be back in the autumn?”
Even in the dim lighting he can see the pleased look on Charlie’s face. “Why? You wanna see me again, do you?”
Maybe he should play it cool, but he’s powerless to do anything except answer earnestly. “Many, many more times. If that’s okay with you.”
“Dork,” Charlie says affectionately, leaning forward to kiss him once more, a brief brush of lips. “That’s very okay. Come on now. I want a stuffed Yoshi from the claw machine, and you’re going to win it for me.”
Six months later
“You can’t wear that, it’s freezing outside!” Charlie exclaims with a hint of exasperation. “Come on, surely you have a nice top for tonight!”
Nick smirks and waggles his eyebrows.
“No, not like tha—I mean, yes, that too… But no, we don’t have time now. Right now you need to find something to wear that’s warm enough to be outside at night in December and nicer than your raggedy hoodies.”
He makes a sound of mock offence. “I thought you liked my hoodies. You steal them enough.”
“I do, but they’ve seen better days. You can’t wear one of them to Elle’s exhibit. Can I dig through your closet?”
Nick shrugs. “Go ahead.”
After a few minutes of searching, he hears a muffled, “Aha!”
“This jumper is perfect! With your chinos you’ll look so nice, and it’s definitely warm enough.”
Nick blushes as he looks at the chunky cream coloured jumper. “Ha, yeah. Okay.”
“Since when do you wear jumpers like this, though? It looks more like something I would wear.”
His face gets hotter. “Yeah, probably.”
Deep blue eyes find his, and thick eyebrows shoot up to a hairline. “Why are you blushing at that?”
“Uh, well…” He reaches a hand up to the back of his neck. It’s warm from his embarrassed flush, and only grows warmer as those eyes bore into his, waiting expectantly for an answer. He sighs, resigned. “Here, let me show you something…”
Nick pulls out his phone and searches a bit until he finds a couple of the tiktoks he saved several months ago. They’re from different creators, but they all shared similar sentiments—the confusion of “Do I want to be them or do I want to be with them?”
He sits on his bed, patting the space next to him for Charlie to sit beside him. Once he does, Nick lets the first video play. It’s short and sweet, and when it’s over Charlie looks up at him again, clearly wondering why they’re watching a random tiktok. Nick knows he’s going to have to use his words, but he’s not ready. “There’s another, hang on…” He opens the next one, and they watch that too.
Charlie hums, pondering the common thread.
“Imogen sent these to me, back before the summer,” Nick tells him. “When I first came out to her. When I told her about… about you. She was taking the piss a bit, sent me like twelve of these, but she was also trying to show me that I— that I wasn’t alone.”
“You wanted to be… me?” Charlie asks, confusion furrowing his brow.
“No… but I thought I did, at first. I saw you in the park or the library or the cafe, and you wore all these jumpers.” He falls back on his bed, dropping the phone on his chest as he groans and hides his face in embarrassment. “I thought I liked your… style, I guess? Enough that eventually I went to the charity shop and bought a few jumpers and skinny jeans.”
Charlie laughs in disbelief. “Wait, you, Nicholas Nelson, own a pair of skinny jeans?!”
Nick keeps his eyes squeezed shut, unwilling to look at Charlie’s expression, as he holds up two fingers.
“Two pairs of skinny jeans?!” Charlie squeals in amused delight. “Where are they? I need to see you in them!”
“Absolutely not.”
“Please, baby? I’ll make it worth your while…” Charlie says in a low voice.
The blonde sits up abruptly, running back over to the wardrobe to grab a different outfit. “Nope. You said it yourself: we don’t have time. I’ll just get ready and we can go.”
“I changed my mind,” his boyfriend calls after him as he walks away. “I want a fashion show!”
“No!” Nick shouts from the ensuite. “Not happening!”
“Niiiick!” Charlie whines, the sound coming closer as Charlie walks into the room.
He finishes buttoning a deep blue shirt and pulls on a brown corduroy jacket over it.
The older man stares unseeing at his reflection in the mirror. The anxiousness swirling in his stomach begins to settle as Charlie’s arms encircle his waist from behind and he sees only kindness reflected from his partner’s eyes.
“Tell me again why Imogen sent you those tiktoks, Nick?” Charlie asks, his face only partly visible from where he stands, chin gently resting behind Nick’s shoulder.
“So I would feel less alone in the confusion I felt back then?”
“Yeah. And you really aren’t alone, you know that right? So many queer people experience that at some point. So it’s not an embarrassing thing.” Charlie nuzzles into his neck and places a kiss just behind his ear. “I hope you know I’m not making fun.”
“I do know that.” The older boy turns in his boyfriend’s arms. “Those tiktoks made me think about it more, though. I realised that I’d had that confusion before you. Just without the record scratch moment where I figured out that my admiration for a boy was more than wanting to be like him.”
“Yeah?”
He nods. “Yeah. When I first joined the rugby team at my secondary school, there was a boy a couple years ahead of me. He was so good at rugby but also very funny and charismatic, and I found myself trying to be like him. Which like—I genuinely wanted to be a good player, but I realise now that I was also doing that to be interesting to him. I wanted him to notice me and like me, and I thought being just like him was the way to achieve that.”
Charlie smiles at him with a look that is both understanding and teasing. “That was sort of gay of you.”
“The fact that it was happening at the same time I was crushing on a girl makes it pretty bi of me.”
His boyfriend presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “We should go.”
As they walk to the bus stop, Charlie is quiet, seemingly lost in thought. Nick squeezes his hand. “What is it?”
“Hmm? Oh, I was just thinking. I’m glad you didn’t try to get my attention by being just like me.”
Nick feels his face grow warmer despite the chill. He deflects with teasing. “Why? Nerds aren’t your type?”
Charlie scoffs. “I prefer dorks, actually. Especially ones who win me plushies from the arcade.”
After the outdoor art installation, Charlie is quick to change into flannel pjs and a pilfered hoodie before burrowing under the duvet to get warm. Only his eyes and curls are visible under the fairy lights by the time Nick walks into the room.
He chuckles and pounces onto the bed, grinning down at his boyfriend. “I can’t kiss you when you hide like that,” he teases.
“I’m freezing, if you want to kiss me then hurry up and change and get under here, I need my human radiator.”
“Even your face is freezing?” the blonde challenges, tugging on the edge of the duvet.
“Yes, my nose is a fucking icicle.” To make his point, Charlie braves the chill air to pull Nick down and presses his nose into the corner of his boyfriend’s neck and shoulder.
Nick yelps at the cold and wrenches away, scrambling backwards off the bed as Charlie giggles.
“Told you,” the curly-haired man says before tucking back under the covers once more. “Now hurry!”
Charlie takes out his phone to scroll, a blue glow illuminating the mostly dark room. Nick stands at the foot of the bed a moment longer, smiling down and reflecting on how lucky he feels to have this gorgeous man curled up waiting for him, even if just to cuddle together as they fall asleep. An idea comes to him as he recalls their earlier conversation. He turns on the lamp and goes to the wardrobe. Taking one more glance over to Charlie to make sure he’s distracted, Nick quickly gathers up a few items and dashes into the bathroom to change.
Pyjamas and hoodie folded on the counter waiting for him, Nick pulls on the cable knit jumper and wriggles his thighs and bum into dark blue skinny jeans. Finally, he slips his feet into the Converse, not bothering to lace up the shoes because he suspects he won’t be wearing them for long. He runs a hand through his hair, taking another look at himself in the mirror, then turns and walks back into his bedroom.
Charlie is still curled up on his side on his phone, but he shuts it off and glances up as the blonde enters.
“Well?” Nick says, a barely-there tremor in his voice the only sign of his nerves as he holds his arms out and turns around slowly to let his boyfriend drink in the sight.
“Oh, wow.” Before he’s done a full 360, he hears a quick scuffling. Facing the bed once again, Nick sees Charlie kneeling tall at the edge of the mattress, covers thrown off, gawping at him. Darkening eyes travel down from his chest to his feet.
“Oh my god, did you even buy the shoes because of me?!” Charlie asks in a stage whisper. He laughs in disbelief even as a blush blooms on his face and spreads down his neck, disappearing under the collar of the hoodie he’s stolen.
Nick nods, walking over to the bed. Two hands come up to his shoulders as Charlie steadies himself, still on his knees. His long fingers run along Nick’s shoulders, feeling the textured jumper, and then wrap behind his neck and pull him into a searing kiss.
When Nick breaks away to catch his breath, he can’t help but chuckle. “I thought you said being just like you wouldn’t do it for you?”
“I thought it’d be weird, but like… have you seen how good your arse looks in those jeans?!”
“Don’t get used to it.” Nick grimaces playfully. “I don’t know how you wear skinny jeans all the time, they’re so uncomfortable.”
Charlie kisses him again hungrily, tugging at his waistband. “We’d better get you out of them then, shouldn’t we?”
Nick lifts his arms as Charlie divests him of his jumper. “Wooow. That was terrible.”
“Shut up and turn out the light.”