Chapter Text
Charlie: Bikes are so stupid. They're a lazy man's vehicle, walking is so much better.
I like how when I walk, the thump of my feet creates a rhythm in my head. Sometimes I like to count to the beat but I never make it past ten before my mind starts to wander. Sometimes a song will pop into my head that matches the rhythm of my steps, but if it's an annoying song I force myself to count again until the song is gone.
I like how I can lose myself in a daydream and then suddenly find that I am at a very different part of the path than I was before. I like it when the grass is long and I can run my fingers through the helms waving over the side of the path. It feels like I'm floating in the grass, like I'm on a boat, just sailing along. It matches my drifting thoughts. In my mind it is often a little overcast, like a tumultuously cloudy day, like the weather usually is here. Although today is quite sunny, which is nice, as long as it doesn't get too hot.
But anyways, this is why bikes are so stupid. They go way too fast, you miss everything around you. And I'm not just saying that because I can't ride one. It's not like I haven't tried, but I always fall off and it hurts and I can run much faster than a bike anyways, so who cares?
Today is the last day of our holiday. We have been here to Sussex – East Dean to be exact – for a couple years in a row but this is the first time I've been allowed to walk on my own. Now that I'm eleven, my dad said I'm responsible enough to venture out unaccompanied. My dad used to take me on long walks when I was ten, and that was fun, sometimes he would talk to me in Spanish, I liked to listen.
But now I walk alone, sailing through the grass until I reach the penny tree near the edge of the cliff. I love the penny tree. It's a huge old tree trunk flat on its side. Hundreds, or maybe thousands of pennies have been hammered into the bark over the years, a lovers tradition, like the thousands of locks on that bridge in Paris.
Now I can have a moment all to myself, sitting back against my special tree to read my book, Pride and Prejudice. It's not an easy book, but I'm good with big words and I love to figure out what the characters are actually saying. It's a bit like playing detective. The only problem is that I am distracted. By that boy racing down the slope at break-neck speed. On a bike. Stupid bike. Stupid boy.
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Charlie flinches when the boy comes to a sliding stop at the bottom of the hill where the path begins to even out, a small cloud of dust kicked up in his wake. The boy turns around and trudges back up the hill, blue helmet reflecting the sunlight, and Charlie frowns, wondering what he's up to. It soon becomes clear as the boy comes barreling downhill again, elbows out, grunting with effort to pick up more speed. He's practising his stupid flashy stops. Charlie does not think he is brave. Or daring. Just silly.
Charlie can't take his eyes off the boy, so absorbed is he in his movements that he barely registers his own fists clenched in worry, his own heart beating wildly, his own breaths shallow and fast. He is filled with second-hand adrenaline, afraid the boy will really hurt himself if he makes a wrong move. The pages of Charlie's discarded book flutter loudly in the breeze, snapping him out of his trance and bringing him back to his surroundings.
He notices the tension in his body, huffs in annoyance and picks up the book from where he dropped it on his crossed legs. He attempts to continue in the riveting romance of Longbourn estate, but finds that he just cannot concentrate, his brain isn't absorbing the words. He is too keenly attuned to the whoops and grunts of the annoyingly distracting boy and the scrape and slide of the bike wheels on the grit of the path. He is about to slam his book shut and find another place to read, when he's startled by a cry and the sound of metal scraping against the stony path.
Charlie gasps when he sees the boy flying through the air and waits with bated breath to see if he will appear again from the tall grass where he landed. After a few seconds of no movement, Charlie jumps up, his book falling forgotten to the ground, as he runs over. His head is buzzing with panic. How is he supposed to help? What can he do? It's not like he can call anyone, he doesn't have his own phone yet. The nearest house is at least a mile away, and Charlie doesn't know first aid. Good thing he's a fast runner.
Relief washes over him when he sees the boy lying on his back, giggling, eyes closed to the sun. Charlie kneels at the top of his head, places his hands in the grass on either side of his rosy cheeks, and leans over him, just to check he's really okay. Charlie's head casts a shadow over the boy's face that causes him to open his eyes and squint up at the curly haired boy hovering over him.
"Hi…" they both breathe out simultaneously.
"Are you ok?" Charlie asks, scanning over the boy's body for injuries. He sees that his knee has a large scrape with dust and grass stuck to it. The boy raises his hand to display the graze on his wrist, twisting his arm to show how it goes all the way up to his elbow. Charlie hisses in sympathy and carefully touches the untarnished skin beside the scrape, vaguely registering the field of golden freckles that are dotted all over the boy's arm.
"Are you sure you didn't break any bones?" he asks in a soft, quiet voice. He doesn't realise that he has been stroking the arm until the boy gently pulls away and sits up, face flushed, eyes wide. Charlie scrambles out of his way in embarrassment. He can't believe he did that. He never talks to people first. Would never dream of touching someone like that. But there's something about this boy. A pull that Charlie doesn't yet understand.
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Nick: I love bikes. Bikes are the best. Why would anyone ever walk when they can ride a bike?
I like going fast. I like going fast and feeling the wind on my arms and on my face and in my hair. Well, at least the exposed part of my hair that isn't stuck under the stupid helmet my mum makes me wear.
I especially like it when the pedals go faster than my feet can keep up with. That's when it's the best. When I have to follow the bike. But it's hard to stop like that without falling off. That's why I'm practising on this hill. I can get the pedals whizzing extra fast when I go downhill and I can practise sliding to a stop at the bottom.
David said he never fell off his bike again after he was twelve. I'm nearly thirteen and I still fall off sometimes. That's why I have to keep practising. If I can do this and not fall off, then I can do anything and not fall off. Then I'll be as good as David. And I can tell him, too. I can feel myself improving, I've managed not to fall so many times now. I'm going to try a really, really fast one now. The fastest I can possibly go. It's exhilarating! I feel like I'm flying.
Then I hit a stone and l suddenly I am flying! I can see the ground racing towards me and I think that I might die. But there's nothing I can do about it. I land on my side, my arm and my knee catching the brunt of the impact, as the momentum rolls me on to my back in the tall grass. Oof! I breathe in and out for a minute, making sure I'm alive. I am.
Thankfully I'm wearing my helmet today. I twitch my toes and lift my knees. My legs still work, and my arms as well. But my wrist hurts. Do I look? I kind of don't want to look, in case it's bad. But I'm too curious not to. I look. It's just a scrape. I close my eyes and laugh — I'm okay! The sun shines on my face and it's lovely and warm, and the grass smells really nice. I think I'm going to stay here for a while.
Except a shadow crosses my face, and I can hear breathing above my head. I open my eyes, expecting to see a dog, feel the lick of a wet tongue on my nose, the smack of an excited tail against my cheek. Only when I look, it's not a dog. It's an angel. No — a boy. And he's beautiful.
The sunlight surrounds him like a halo, twirling through his dark curls, his eyes are as blue as the sky. I show him my wrist and he touches my arm and my skin tingles. My skin has never tingled before. He's asking me a question but I can't hear it over the tingles. Wait — he wants to know if I've broken anything. I sit up and take my arm back so I can concentrate on what he's saying. Because I definitely can't concentrate with this rushing sound in my ears.
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"No, I don't think I broke anything. I broke my leg once when I slipped at the ice-skating rink. Well, I didn't slip actually, my brother pushed me but my dad didn't believe me. I think my mum would have believed me. She knows me better than Dad does. But this doesn't feel like that. So I think I'm okay."
Nick shuffles himself to sit up next to the boy.
"Oh. Good. I've never broken anything so I wouldn't know."
A moment of awkward silence falls between them and Nick finds that he doesn't want the conversation to end. He leans his arms on his knees, wincing when the hairs scrape against his raw arm.
"Where's your bike? Mine's just over there somewhere. I haven't checked it yet. I hope it's not broken. My dad got it for me before he left."
A forlorn expression crosses Nick's face and the boy intuitively catches on to it. Nick jumps up and takes three strides to reach his bike. He bends down to hide the sudden surge of unwelcome tears and picks up his bike by the handle bars. The boy continues the conversation from where he is still seated in the grass.
"Where did he go? My dad went away once, to Spain, to visit my Abuelo. Is that where your dad went? To visit someone?"
"No. He just left. He's not ever coming back, I don't think. What's an Abnello?"
"Abuelo. It's my Grandad. That's Spanish."
"Oh, I see." Nick looks around, confused before turning back to the boy. "Um, so where is your bike?"
The boy looks at him with a blank look on his face, blinks a few times before he realises what Nick is asking. "I don't have one. I can't ride a bike. I think they're kinda stupid actually."
Nick frowns at what seems to be a dig at his awesome bike. "How would you know if you can't ride one?" he asks defensively, pulling the bike towards himself as if to protect it from the deplorable slander. The boy looks at him with dismay.
"Oh no," he raises his hands in apology, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say that your bike was stupid! It looks really cool! I just…I've just never ridden one properly."
Nick smiles brightly at the boy, any possible quarrel to defend his bike's honour between them forgotten. Nick pushes down the kickstand and walks back to the boy. He holds out his hand and the curly haired boy accepts it, sliding tanned fingers into Nick’s palms, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet. They walk over to Nick's bike and assess the damage. The bike is scratched along the side, much to Nick's disappointment, but he doesn't let it show.
"How about I prove bikes aren't stupid?" Nick challenges the willowy boy to a race from the path to the penny tree. Bike versus boy, to see who's fastest and therefore which is best, running or cycling. Nick is certain that he will win. But the boy is fast and Nick has to pedal so much harder than he expected. Nick wins, but not by much. They both crash into the tree, giggling, not willing to slow down and risk losing the race.
Nick offers to teach the boy how to cycle. He says no at first, shaking his head so his curls dance around his face. Nick suggests the boy just sit on the bike with his feet on the ground and 'walk' the bike, concentrating on steering with the handlebars and the way he needs to clench his thighs around the saddle and balance from his core. The boy agrees.
He follows all of Nick's instructions, and manages to master it quickly. He starts speeding up and lifting his feet off the ground for a few seconds, grinning proudly as Nick whoops and praises him. After half an hour or so, Nick puts the helmet on the boy's head, the boy looking down shyly as Nick's fingers brush softly along his cheek when he adjusts the straps.
Nick encourages him to try the pedals and then he's biking! He's a little shaky, but he's actually biking! Dimples appear on the boy’s cheeks when he beams at Nick and Nick really wants to poke his fingers into them. What an odd thought.
Next, they push the bike up the hill and Nick climbs on and tells the boy to sit on the back so he can see what he's missing out on and why bikes are actually so much fun. He has never been interested in having a second rider before, but the idea of this boy sitting on the back of his bike appeals to Nick. He's not sure why. The boy gets on and holds Nick tight around the waist. He likes it. The boy says he likes it too. Maybe this is what it feels like to make a best friend.
Together they roll down the steep hill and Nick’s feet are pumping the pedals at top speed just like before, while the boy has his legs up and put of the way so they don’t get caught in the wheels. They are going way too fast. The boy holds on to him, screaming and laughing loudly. For a brief moment they think they might die, but eventually the hill tapers out and Nick makes the perfect stop. He has to. He doesn't want the boy to get a scrape like his.
The boy removes the helmet and they lie in the grass and talk about running away to join the circus together because they are so good at stunts.
"...leeee! … home… now!"
A voice reaches them on the breeze, bursting the bubble they have found themselves in and they turn to see a girl calling out, all the way from the bottom of the path towards town.
"That's my sister, we're leaving today. I gotta go!"
The boy springs up from the grass and flashes a grin at Nick. Nick commits it to memory, feeling like it's important but he's not sure why. The boy runs back to the penny tree and collects a discarded book from beneath it. He thrusts it at Nick.
"Here. Bye!"
The boy starts running down the path then turns, running back up to Nick. He takes a deep breath and pecks a quick kiss on Nick's cheek with a shy giggle, then runs until he's out of Nick's sight.
Nick doesn't stop thinking about his new one-day friend for the rest of his holiday. Lee, that was what the girl called him, odd that he never thought to ask. He's not sure if he shared his own name either. He thinks about Lee from time to time when he's back at school too. He thinks about Lee from time to time well into adulthood too, wondering where he is now and who he grew to be, and if he ever thinks about Nick too...
