Chapter Text
After five months on the job, Charlie was finally starting to feel comfortable working at Whitmore. It had been difficult leaving his last job, the first one he’d earned after postgrad, but the salary bump and company culture offered at Whit had stolen him away from his dusty corner cubicle at the small analytics company and skyrocketed him to a shiny new desk in a sleek modern high rise.
Being a data scientist hadn’t exactly been Charlie’s dream growing up. He’s never fallen asleep at night imagining pouring over hundreds of pages of programs and compiling projection reports to send out to corporations across Europe. He’d spent hours pouring over university program catalogs when the time came to begin applying and selecting a major.
He remembered wringing his hands nervously under the table as his father read out the description of what felt like endless different programs that were available across the country. He’d tried to get excited about the idea. Tried to nod along enthusiastically with Julio as he described political science classes and English lit courses.
He’d struggled to feel anything but anxious about the idea of choosing a path that may very well define the rest of his life. Whose brilliant idea had it been anyway to give 17-year-old kids the power to make such a life-changing decision as to choose what they wanted to do with the rest of their lives? How was anyone supposed to know what they wanted at that age?
Well, there was one thing Charlie had been sure he wanted. Nick.
This was why when applying to universities programs he’d had two requirements
1. Something he wouldn’t be utter trash at
2. Close to Nick
When his parents had casually suggested the idea that Charlie picks a school closer to home for his post-secondary education, he’d nearly fallen over for the audacity of it.
He’d flat out refused to touch the matter, changing the subject or leaving the room anytime the subject was broached. He’d heard his parents having an argument in hushed tones about it one evening and had had to hold his tongue to stop from bursting out in a rage of frustration.
So he’d begun his search independently, away from his mother trying to slide University of Kent folders into his file of paperwork, and away from his father's watchful eye.
He decided to do what any rational person would do when faced with a difficult question, head to google.
There wasn’t much Charlie was confident of about himself. He knew he was smart enough in most school subjects, above average at playing the drums (although nowhere near the talent level that would be required to make a go of it professionally), and a decent writer.
There was one thing he knew he excelled at. Maths. There was something about numbers that had always made sense to him. Had always soothed him. There was no guesswork in maths. Your answer was right or your answer was wrong. There may be trial and error to get to that right answer and a fair bit of puzzling sometimes, but in the end, an answer would always be in black and white instead of shades of grey.
So he’d typed “ careers for people who are good at maths” into his search bar and held his breath as he waited for results to load.
He hadn’t been sure what he was expecting. A mathematician (whatever those do) or maybe a maths teacher? Instead, he’d been presented with a long list of options. A data scientist has been the third link he clicked on. He was surprised to find himself wrapped up in the article, fascinated by all the different facets of the job that, up until a few minutes ago, he’d never heard of. A knot that had formed in Charlie's stomach over the past weeks and months trying to decide his next step in life began to ease as a picture of the future became more clear in his mind. The fact that Leeds had a top-ranked statistics department in their school of maths sealed the deal on the matter for him.
So after a numbers of tense conversations with his parents and one extremely heated row with his mother, it was decided. He’d applied to The University of Leeds School of Mathamatics and after an anxiety induicing wait in which he checked the school's web portal multiple times a day, he’d been accepted as an undergraduate.
He’d spent four years at the university, the first spent in university housing at the insistence of his parents and the other three living in an off campus flat with Nick.
At the end of his time in Leeds, he had graduated with an honors degree in Mathematics with minors in statistics and computer science, and a job offer to start working in his field at the firm he had interned for during his last school year. He’d worked there for two and a half years before taking this new job.
Starting at a different company had felt a lot like the first day of a new school year, except it lasted months rather than 8 hours. He never felt quite sure where he should sit in the staff room and he had to sike himself up to speak during meetings the same way he had had to when raising his hand to answer a question during a class in high school.
But things started to get easier, he’d made a few friends around the office, his boss seemed like a nice woman who he knew he could turn to if an issue with a project arose, and he genuinely liked the work.
Charlie was sitting at his desk on an abnormally chilly morning in September. He’d arrived at the office a little early that morning. Nick had had to get up earlier than usual that day, and Charlie hadn’t been able to get back to sleep once his partner's warm body had left a vacant space in the bed beside him. He’d gotten ready alongside Nick, brushing their teeth at the same sink and drinking their coffee across from one another at their tiny kitchen table just as they had a thousand times since they’d begun living together years before. Once Nick had pressed a kiss to the top of his head and ruffled the ears of their dog Daisy who was sleeping contently on Charlie's feet, he had picked up his bag and headed out of their shared flat to start the day. Leaving Charlie with time to kill before he left for work.
Charlie had dotteled a bit around the house, taking a little extra care in packing his lunch, and washing up the dishes in the sink. He’d tried to take Daisy for a little walk, but the dog was notoriously lazy in the mornings, and once she’d done her necessary business outside, she’d flopped back down onto the pavement and patiently waited for Charlie to scoop her up and carry her back up to the Tempurpedic pet bed that Nick had gotten her the previous Christmas.
Once Daisy was fast alseep in her bed and showed a low likelihood to waking up and keeping Charlie any further company that morning, he’d decided to head into work early.
The car park was mostly empty but the time that Charlie pulled into a spot and put his car in park. The office lights were still off when he got off the elevator on the fifth floor. He made his way over to the staff kitchen and flicked on the kettle, tapping his toe to a rhythm stuck in his head as he waited for the telltale whistle that signalled that the water was up to temperature.
He took his tea with him back to his desk and booted up his computer. He typed in his password and as he waited for his screen to load, his eye line drifted out the floor-to-ceiling window. The early morning sky was a gloomy shade of grey, the type that he used to make him feel like it was impossible to get out of bed in the morning. Now he could see the beauty in it. Charlie could appreciate the way the bleak colour of the sky wasn't just one grey, but streaks of silver and white where the fog from the river met with the low lingering clouds. This was the type of sky that used to make him feel like the sun would never come out again, the same way he used to feel like he’d never feel happiness again when his mental health was at its worst. He smiled softly to himself thinking about how much had changed in only a few years. How much his life had changed since he was a 14-year-old child, feeling like he’d be alone and desperately sad and anxious for the rest of his life. How much had changed since the first day of a new term when he walked into his new form group and found himself assigned to sit next to Nicholas Nelson.
Charlie was so lost in that thought that he hadn’t noticed that a few of his co workers had begun to arrive.
“I didn’t take you for much of a rugby fan, Charlie” came a voice from over his shoulder. Charlie snapped out of his trance and swung around in his chair to see who had spoken to him.
One of his workmates, a spunky women from Norfolk named Olive, was leaning against the side of his desk.
“Hmm?” Charlie responded, not following her line of thinking. Olive nodded her head towards the computer on his desk.
Charlie's computer had long since come to life and his screen saver was staring back at him. It was one of his favourite pictures of Nick, standing with two of his team members, a gold medal between each man's teeth as they smiled triumphantly into the camera.
The picture was taken only the year before when Nick had competed for Great Britain at the Summer Olympics in Budapest. It was the first time Rugby union had been an event in the games since 1924.
Charlie could remember beaming with pride from the stands as his partner and the rest of the team had narrolwy defeated New Zealand in the gold medal match. Charlie's eyes had filled with tears when they’d placed the medal around Nicks neck. Nick searched the crowds for his partner and when his sight finally had landed on Charlies, Nicks eyes began to water too.
Charlie had chosen the photo of Nick biting down on the medal for his screen saver for a reason. He remembered teasing his partner for months leading up to the games, begging him to take the cliche photo as soon as he won. Nick always swatted him away, telling Charlie to not talk about it so much or he’d end up jinxing it.
Charlie knew that Nick only took the photo to appease him. The glint in his eye and the boyish grin making Charlie swoon slightly any time he looked at it.
“Oh um, I played a bit in school” Charlie began, not sure what he was about to say. He was fairly sure that almost all his co-workers were aware of his sexual orientation. He had a small pride flag pinned to the board by his computer, and he had made mention of his boyfriend in passing dozens of time.
“Maybe he’s just into Nick Nelson” came another voice. Charlie's cubicle mate, Patrick, flopped down on his computer chair and spun on the seat.
“Like the majority of the country” Pat quipped, nudging the back of Charlies chair with his foot playfully.
It was true that Nick had become somewhat of a minor celebrity ever since his triumph at the Olympics. Bringing home a gold medal for GB guaranteed him status as a hometown hero, but Nick's boyish charm and handsome face had attracted a fair bit of fanfare online and across the continent.
“You’re like the new Tom Daley” Charlie had teased him, referring to the diver that had clogged his Tumblr dashboard for months during one of his years a truhmam, one night after coming across a buzzfeed article entitled “ 12 times Nick Nelson made us swoon”.
“Oh um-” Charlie began again, trying to come up with the words to explain that Nick was his partner and not his celebrity crush, although technically he could be considered both.
Nick never hide his sexuality, he had worn a bi flag pin during multiple televised interviews and had made comments about his ‘partner Charlie’ dozens of time in public. Was Charlie a unisex name? Yes. Was it’s Nicks fault that the public assumed that his partner was a woman despite multiple cues to the opposite? No. Did Charlie often feel awkward talking about his connection with Nick to people who weren’t aware of their relationship? Yes.
“I mean I don’t blame you mate. He’s well fit. A bit out of your league maybe, but I suppose the same could be said about me and Margot Robbie but that's never stopped me from making her the wallpaper on my phone” Patrick quipped.
If either Olive or Pat looked a little closer at Charlie's desk, they’d pick up on a few clues regarding the true nature of his relationship with Nick. He had a photo of the two of them with Nicks's mother Sarah standing between them on a beach vacation in Spain tacked up next to Charlie's pride pin on his cork board, and the hand-decorated snow day photo of the two of them and Nellie that Nick had given him for his 15th birthday had a place of honour beside his computer monitor so that it was always in his eye line when he was working.
“He is handsome” Olive agreed, taking a drink from his mug of tea as she wandered off towards her desk.
“Dream big my guy, dream big,” Pat said playfully patting Charlie at his shoulder before he turned back to his own desk.
Charlies throat felt dry as he turned back to his own computer, Nicks sparkling eyes staring back at him from the screen.
How had that conversation gotten so out of hand so quickly? How had he suddenly ended up looking like a love-struck super fan of Nick Nelson rather than his actual partner? How was he supposed to explain this to his workmates now? Would they think he was truly off his rocker if he tried to come clean now? Would he look like one of those schoolchildren who claimed that they had a girlfriend who “ went to another school” or made up lies about their parents being friends with people like Simon Cowell or Princess Anne?
He felt like putting his head down on his desk. How was he going to get himself out of this one?