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Julio Spring has never been more out of his depth.
He thought the scariest moment of his life would be when the nurse handed him Victoria, that beautiful, precious, fragile bundle; how her little hand reached out to grasp his finger, her small mouth making shapes he yearned to understand. The fear that lodged behind his heart that day at 5:04 AM stayed, stayed and amplified 18 months later when Charles came into the world.
Tori and Charlie - his brightest joy, his most frightening reality. Julio loves his children, desperately. He’d do anything for them; he’s never been a violent man, but if he could, he’d pick up a sword and slay every dragon that came for them.
But his kids, his beautiful, precious, fragile kids, won’t let him.
Tori’s off in her own world and never lets him stray into her orbit. She answers his questions before darting away, always on the outskirts of their family. Her grades are great, her hair is never out of place, she never makes a peep. He’s hearing horror stories from other parents of teen girls, how they roll their eyes (always affectionately) and talk about all the trouble they get into. Julio is learning to be worried that he has no stories like that for his girl.
But Charlie. God, Charlie. When his darling boy came out last year – didn’t even come out, to think of it, he was outed, and that’s enough to make Julio sit in his car and weep – Julio realized there were dragons he’d never even dreamed of. Teeth out, claws extended, reaching for his son.
He’s watched, helplessly, as Charlie disappeared. First around the edges, and then through the middle. These days, Julio’s worried he’ll wake up to find a ghost.
He’s knocked on the door at 1:00 AM when he’d walked to the bathroom but heard muffled sobs through his son’s door.
He’s had his heart broken all over again after knocking on that closed door, only to have Charlie emerge, once-bright eyes reddened and swollen, a fake smile fixed on his lovely face and a soft “I’m fine, dad, promise” waiting, as though rehearsed. “Just regular kid stuff, you know.”
He’s noticed how Charlie’s retreated into himself, like Tori does but not quite like Tori does: Tori was always quiet, Charlie was always social. Bright, bubbling, eager to chat and to make friends, kind to a fault in a world that loves to tear down anything so beautiful.
Charlie’s fourteenth year on this planet is absolutely terrifying. Julio watches from the sidelines of his son’s life, wanting to be put in the game, but always pushed back by an invisible hand. He loves his son. He loves him to the point of pain, and watching him come home each day, shoulders slumped and smile missing, is killing him.
But, right around the time Charlie turns 15, something happens. Something good. Charlie’s still locked away in his room sometimes, playing the drums. Charlie’s still avoiding dinner, even when Julio makes paella (which used to be his son’s favorite thing in the world) even when they offer to get fish and chips from the corner shop or offer to order in anything at all. But now, Charlie’s having friends over again, going to friends’ houses. When Julio goes to the bathroom at 1 AM, he hears a soft giggling through the wall, and as much as his wife urges him to speak to Charlie about regular bedtimes, Julio can’t bring himself to scold away the smile on his son’s face as he scurries upstairs, phone clutched in his too-thin hands.
There’s a new boy in Charlie’s life, and Julio watches this one warily. Nick Nelson, captain of the rugby team. Fit, broad-shouldered, handsome in the way that promises he’ll only be more handsome as a full-grown man, both boyish and not.
Julio isn’t stupid. He knows his son likes this boy, probably more than likes him. Not much else would inspire Charlie to join a sports team, after all: Charlie is athletic, despite his protests to the contrary. But Julio remembers the call from the school last year, the gentle-voiced art teacher (The only adult who seemed to give a damn about his baby, the only one to put a stop to what was happening) telling him that Charlie was being brutally bullied by half of the rugby lads, by half of the school in general.
Nick Nelson is an unknown quantity, and Julio doesn’t know what to do. Ask Charlie, and see his light dim as his son learns to share his father’s suspicion? Warn Charlie, and receive his angered denial?
Nick Nelson seems nice, after all. He’s polite, soft-spoken, and laughs loudly and full and real at Charlie’s sweet humor. He likes dogs, and he likes that Mario car game. Julio doesn’t know him though.
It terrifies him to think that this is all an elaborate set-up. Not many straight boys are willing to be friends with gay boys at their age. Julio, shamefully, knows that for himself. He’d never teased anyone for potentially being gay, never joined in on the horrifying bullying that had occured at school during the height of the AIDS crisis, never encouraged it, wasn’t friends with the lads who did –
But he hadn’t stopped it. He hadn’t been brave enough.
So he watches Nick Nelson, waiting for the other shoe to drop. He takes his son to the cinema, listens to his soft, glowing “Nick’s going to be there, I’ll be fine.” He hears that breathy optimism leaking back into his son’s voice for the first time in over a year. Julio nods, half-smiles, and promises to pick Charlie up at ten.
He watches as the tall, blonde, larger, older boy walks towards his son; he relaxes infinitesimally when Nick hugs Charlie, a casual, friendly embrace.
But it doesn’t stop Julio from driving to the corner of the lot and parking, phone clutched in his hand, windows rolled down to let in fresh air to help himself breathe.
Julio can still feel the heat of Charlie’s tears against his shoulder from the last party he went to, one that also had Nick Nelson in attendance. He doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know how to save his son from further pain – so he waits.
Right around ten, the door swings open, and his son walks out. Immediately, Julio knows something is wrong. He isn’t running or crying, but his shoulders are tense, and his body’s a line of tension.
Julio grabs his keys, prepares to start the car and drive over to Charlie, ready to pretend like he’s been doing something more productive for the last two hours, but Nick Nelson runs out before he can.
“Charlie!” He can hear the older boy call out urgently.
His son turns around, shoulders still tense. They exchange some words, and Nick steps forward, hand outstretched. There’s some strange energy between them, but nothing in the rugby lad’s posture or face suggests malice. He looks – earnest. Like a puppy, almost. Charlie doesn’t relax, and Julio can hear a snippet come through his open window in the dark corner of the lot:
“--being a complete idiot, and some of the others were being really unfriendly –” Julio grits his teeth, and grabs his door handle –
His son’s shaking his head, and Julio makes himself release his door handle, relax his grip on his keys. Charlie can stand up for himself, and Nick seems to be vastly apologetic, and not for anything he’d done. Julio forces himself to breathe, and looks down at his phone, sees a text from Jane asking if everything’s going well.
He types out a response, letting his attention stray from what’s clearly a private moment between his son and his friend. Julio deletes and rephrases what he wants to say multiple times, tries to say it in Spanish, gives up, breathes out, and then sends a:
“We’re heading home soon, Charlie’s just wrapping up with his friend!” Friend, singular. He wishes, not for the first time tonight, that Charlie had asked to go to Tao’s house, or Elle’s, or Isaac’s. Anything but this, anything but the cruel, brutal exposure to a world indifferent to the suffering of gentle people.
The tone of the conversation outside has shifted; Julio looks up, curious, wondering what’s happened. He stills, when he sees that Nick Nelson is gone, and a new boy is talking to Charlie.
He’s out of the car before he registers the thought.
“Don’t lie,” the tall boy is snarling at Charlie. Charlie’s saying nothing, curling in on himself like the words were physical blows. “Well, I believe that you’re not going out with him … As if anyone would ever want to go out with someone as desperate as you.”
Julio’s stomach plummets, and he starts to walk through the shadowed lot, making his steps quiet, wanting to creep up on this conversation, scare the living daylights out of this punk, this prick who wants to make Charlie feel small, and he’s so caught up in his anger he almost misses Charlie’s soft, broken:
“You did.”
What? Julio pauses mid-stride. Charlie went out with this twit? When? Why didn’t he or Jane know? Did Tori know? Was it one of the secrets she kept tucked away in the private depths of her icy blue eyes?
“Are you joking? You actually thought I liked you? You were there like some tragic loser–”
That’s enough. Julio opens his mouth, still two dozen feet away, hand raised as if to shout, even though a tall retaining wall is blocking him from sight –
But out of the stairwell behind the boys, another voice rises up first.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Nick Nelson is back.
He looks his full six feet, for once, shoulders squared and jaw set as he storms towards the boy taunting Charlie. But Julio can see the terror in the blond boy’s face, even from this far away – he can see it because he knows that terror, knows it too well from feeling it every day since Charlie came home, sobbing, forced to tell his mother and father that he was gay because someone at school had found out, and it was “only a matter of time before you hear it, and I’m sorry, I’m so sorry” as if Charlie’s identity warranted an apology.
“Nelson,” the unknown boy sneers. “Come to play guard dog, have you?”
“Fuck off, Ben.” Nick’s bristling, and the boy, Ben, takes a step back.
Charlie’s still curled in on himself, but Nick crowds into Ben, in and in and in, until he’s further away from Charlie, blocked by Nick’s broad chest. Nick’s hands are balled into fists as he walks towards Ben, and his voice is cracking as he says:
“You’ve made Charlie’s life a living hell. You and all the boys in there, but you - you’re the worst of it, aren’t you? You want him to feel small and unwanted, as if you were the one doing him a favor? Don’t make me laugh. Charlie’s better than you. He’s better than what you did to him, what you tried to do to him after practice–”
“--You’re making it sound like I assaulted him–”
Julio’s veins turn to ice, right around the time Nick snarls, “You did though, didn’t you? You can’t stand the fact that he’s moved on, that he’s happy without the awful things you say and do to him, and you’re lurking in the shadows at night to try and make it worse, and–”
“Nick,” Charlie murmurs. His hand reaches up, towards the blond boy. “Nick, he’s not worth it.”
The older boys pause and look at him. Nick’s face softens, and Ben’s hardens. Ben opens his mouth, but Nick steps forward and places a large, pale hand on his chest.
“You don’t get to speak to him. If I see you speaking to him again, I will hurt you.” Nick’s voice breaks on the word hurt .
“Jealous, much?” Ben sneers. He leans away from Nick’s hand, though. “Scared your dirty little secret might like me better?”
“Don’t talk about my boyfriend like that.” Nick takes a step back and looks Ben up and down with contempt. “Now, as I said earlier, fuck off.”
Ben disappears into the shadows, and Julio glances down at his Apple watch, unsurprised to see that his heart rate is over 140 bpm. He feels as though he just ran a 5K. He looks up again and sees Nick clutching Charlie’s hand with both of his, lips pressed to Charlie’s knuckles. His broad shoulders are shaking, and their voices are lower now, low enough that he can only catch snippets again.
“--came back because it broke my heart, Char, what you said–”
“I don’t want to break your heart–”
“Baby.” Nick shakes his head and wraps his arms around Charlie, a mirror of the embrace they shared hours before. He presses a kiss to Charlie’s hair and the boys sway together. It’s intimate, and private, and Julio takes a deep breath and retreats back to the car. He makes a production of it, opening the door again, leaning in to turn on his lights.
When he dials Charlie’s number, Julio finally looks back over and sees the two sharing a kiss, sweet and chaste. Charlie startles back and holds his phone up, and Julio hears his son over the line a second later:
“Dad!” Breathless, but not scared. “Sorry, sorry, are you here?”
“Just parked,” Julio lies. “Ready to go?”
Nick and Charlie turn around, and Julio grins at the guilty wave Charlie gives him. He waves back.
“Is that Nick Nelson?” Julio asks, feigning ignorance. “Does he need a ride home?”
A few minutes later, and Charlie’s tucked away (safe, Julio can’t help but think, he’s safe here, he’s safe now) in the front seat, and Nick’s shuffling from foot to foot in the headlights, confirming with his mother that he can get a ride home with the Springs.
Nick hangs up after a farewell “love you too, Mom,” and a smile directed at Charlie before he comes ‘round to sit behind the driver’s seat. Julio puts a hand out, and Nick pauses, brown eyes widened.
“Nick.” Julio opens his mouth, clears his throat and then shakes his head. “Thank you.”
“Why, Mr. Spring?” Nick asks, curiously. “You’re the one giving me a ride home, sir. I should be saying thank you.” He ends with a sweet smile that reaches his eyes.
“Still.” Julio lowers his hand and then reaches back to open Nick’s door for him. “Thanks.”
“Of course, sir.” Nick slips into the backseat, and Julio closes the door carefully behind him.
He pretends he doesn’t see the charged look the boys share as he pulls away into the night.
Julio Spring is out of his depth. But right now, for this moment, it’s in a good way. His son’s in love for the first time; he’s in love with a kind, soft-spoken boy who laughs at his son’s sweet humor, who likes dogs and video games, who’s brave enough to stand up to the world’s cruelty and who’s reliable enough that Julio might actually trust him to be there for Charlie when his dad can’t be.
And, wonderfully enough, his son’s in love with someone who clearly loves him back.