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When the chime dings on the door to his shop, Charlie usually doesn't even look up. But this time, on this particular January day, he does.
It's a subtle change in everything that sends his head turning, like even the very air knows something monumental is about to happen.
He pricks his finger on a particularly thorny rose, but his fingers are so calloused after years of use that he barely even notices the pain.
A tall man with dark blonde hair and a smart looking black suit walks in. He's handsome in a rugged, sportsy kind of way, and Charlie is instantly smitten, because how could he not be?
The man's smile is as warm as his brown eyes, and the hint of red in his scruffy beard reminds Charlie of the first sparks of a fire.
Charlie's floral shears lay limply in his hand, all but forgotten as his whole world falls into two distinct phases. All that came before this moment, and everything that will come after.
He knows he's staring, but he can't help himself, never really realising he had such a specific type until it walked through the door of his flower shop.
"Hi," the man said, and the deep timbre of his voice makes Charlie wish it could be the soundtrack to the rest of his life.
"Hi," Charlie says back. It's the only thing he can think to say, completely forgetting to welcome him or even ask how he can help.
"I was looking for some flowers?" the man questions and Charlie flushes to the roots of his hair.
"O-oh, uh, y-yes, of course," he stutters out, and abandons the arrangement he's working on to stand in front of the counter, never more aware of how awkwardly he moves. "Are you looking for anything in particular?"
The man glances around at the shelves lined with rainbows of petals. "Just something simple. Bright maybe?"
Charlie nods and smiles. An arrangement he'd finished that morning comes to mind, and he grabs it from a nearby shelf.
It's small. Four deep pink tulips, two orange gerbera daisies, next to yellow roses and a few sprigs of lilac. The colour combination reminds him of something his mother would have put together from her garden.
"What about this?" he asks and the man's eyes light up.
"That's perfect."
They walk back to the register and Charlie pulls out a message card. He usually lets the customer fill it out. It's more personal that way. But this time, he has plans to fill it out himself.
He needs to know more about this man. Who are the flowers for? Is he apologising for something? Confessing his feelings?
"Would you like to say anything on the card?"
The man seems to ponder for a second, brow drawn down in thought and lips slightly pursed together. "How about, 'You've got this, Love Nick.'"
Nick.
Charlie arranges things for a living. Picks parts and makes them into a whole. And yet, in that moment he can't fathom a more perfect placing and pairing of letters into a single syllable.
He writes the message in his best handwriting and gently settles it amongst the flowers. While Nick is paying he looks at Charlie curiously.
"Do you own the shop, or do you just work here?" he asks and Charlie nearly adds an extra zero to his total while his fingers fumble.
"I own it," Charlie replies with a sense of pride he's still not used to displaying. It was a long road to get here, but he is intensely proud of it.
"That's really cool," Nick says and Charlie can tell he genuinely means it. "Did you always want to own a flower shop, or…?"
Charlie hands Nick back his credit card. "Uh, no, not really? I worked in a shop when I was at university, and fell in love with it."
"And you still love it?"
"I do." Charlie smiles at Nick. It's bright and real. "I wouldn't want to do anything else."
Something like hope flashes in Nick's brown eyes, and it makes Charlie wonder why, but Nick picks up his arrangement and something empty wells up in Charlie as he realises their encounter is about to end.
"Thank you so much for this," Nick says, and Charlie nods.
"It's what I do," he says with a shrug.
Nick pauses and looks Charlie square in the eyes. "What's your name?"
Charlie almost forgets, the intensity of Nick's gaze makes the world seem fuzzy. "Charlie," he says weakly, before repeating it much more confidently. "My name is Charlie."
A boyish grin is his answer. "Well, thank you again, Charlie. I'm sure I'll see you soon."
The chime rings, signalling Nick's exit and Charlie is left alone with a shop full of budding blooms, both those that grew from the earth and the one that now sits firmly in his chest.
oOo
A week later, Nick returns and Charlie doesn't even try to stop the excited flip of his stomach.
He's in a blue suit this time with a crisp white shirt and a pink tie and Charlie thinks it might be the most gorgeous combination he's ever seen.
"Hi, Charlie," Nick says with a smile and a wave. "Do you…remember me from last week?"
Charlie almost laughs. It bubbles up in him in a hysterical sort of fashion, but he chokes it down enough that it only comes out as an embarrassing snort.
Nick looks at him with his head tilted in confusion, and Charlie quickly covers his expression.
"Of course I do," he says. As if he could forget the most attractive man he's ever seen. "What can I do for you, Nick? Are you back for more flowers, or to see me?" He adds the last part in a pinch of bravery.
Nick laughs and Charlie's shoulders relax. "Maybe a bit of both."
The bloom in his chest blossoms, spreading warmth to his cheeks. "Why don't you take a look around and see if there's anything you like? If not, I can make something for you."
He watches as Nick browses, a smile coming onto his face as he sees Nick bend down to smell a particularly fragrant bouquet. He thinks he's doing a great job in continuing to work with the flowers in front of him, until he notices he cut off the head of a peony, leaving it's empty stem to sit in the vase.
"You're really talented," Nick says, and Charlie's breath catches. It's a simple statement, but it leaves him feeling unsteady. Charlie enjoys what he does, but it's rare anyone calls him talented.
"T-thank you," he says quietly and Nick makes his way back to the counter, a short vase with hydrangeas and English tea roses in his hand.
"What kind of flowers are these?" Nick asks, pointing to the green and white petals that filled the glass.
"Those are hydrangeas," Charlie says. "One of my favourite flowers."
"Well, then I have to have them then." The statement is followed by a wink.
A wink.
Charlie busies himself with grabbing a card. He's in no shape to write it, but since he already set the precedent that he does the last time, he has no choice but to try to keep his hands from shaking as he asks for the message.
"To the strongest woman I know," Nick says and Charlie's heart sinks.
He writes it out, disappointment growing with each loop of a letter. This always happens to him. Charlie develops a crush. Convinces himself it can be reciprocated, only to discover his crush is afflicted with a straightness that cannot be curved. Especially not for the blue-eyed, curly haired boy who is but a blip in a world filled with extraordinary people.
Until a few minutes ago, Charlie wasn't sure he would ever see Nick again, but something in his gut had told him he would. There is a connection there. A flicker of something he's been waiting for his entire life.
Is he so lonely he imagined it?
"She must be lucky to have someone so thoughtful in her life," Charlie says, and he means it, though his smile isn't quite right and his tone hardly hides the bitterness.
"No, I'm the lucky one for sure," Nick says, reaching into his pocket for his wallet.
Charlie notices a badge that sits on his shirt pocket. It has Nick's name and photo along with the name of what Charlie thinks is one of the best rugby teams in the country.
Of course the man is involved in sports. He probably works out and has really strong arms and back muscles and-
"It was really good to see you again, Charlie."
Nick's voice brings him out of his musings, and he does his best to cheerily respond, "You, too."
For a second that feels like an eternity, Nick stands in front of him, his expression thoughtful, as if he can see through Charlie's facade of happiness. But he doesn't say anything, instead choosing to keep his thoughts as close as he cradles the flowers in his large hands.
"I'll see you next week," he says with a smile before he walks out the door, and Charlie is once again by himself, so much promise lying broken at his feet.
"See you," Charlie says to the empty air long after the chime stops ringing.
oOo
Charlie both loves and dreads Nick's weekly visits.
He comes like clockwork every Thursday at half past four, gives Charlie smiles that haunt Charlie's days and rule his nights, and purchases his arrangement for whatever woman he's apparently very lucky to have in his life.
His visits start to last longer, the small talk morphing into actual conversations that Charlie doesn't even think to stop. Even though Charlie knows he doesn't stand a chance with Nick, he can't bring himself to pull away, still somehow grateful to play a small part in Nick's week, no matter how insignificant.
Nick tells Charlie little bits about himself: His job as a recruiter for the rugby team keeps him busier than he'd like. He grew up in Kent just like Charlie did, and he has a brother who is a complete ass. He loves Marvel movies and dogs, though he hasn't been able to bring himself to get another one since his border collie, Nellie, died last year.
Charlie hates that he's falling in love with him, but he can't help himself. Nick is kind and funny and sweet and good. It hurts more every time he leaves and then all the more when he comes, because Charlie also can't help but mourn the loss of what will never be.
Weeks pass like this and bleed into months, and before he knows it, it's been a quarter of a year of these visits.
It's April when everything shifts.
He's about to switch the neon sign in the window to close, only finishing up a groom's bouquet for a wedding the next day, when someone comes in. He's about to call out a greeting when he sees Nick.
But it's a Nick he's never seen before.
His eyes are red rimmed, and his cheeks blotchy with wet streaks from tears that have since fallen into the fabric of his shirt. He looks despondent and Charlie immediately jumps up from his stool, flowers scattering to the ground, trampled under his feet.
"Nick, what's wrong?" he asks, trying to keep the alarm from his voice. Nick is always smiling. He's sunshine personified, and Charlie is jarred at the change in him.
Nick opens his mouth to speak, but only a strangled sound comes out just before he envelopes Charlie in a crushing hug.
Charlie is momentarily paralysed, unsure of what to do or if the moment is really happening. It feels surreal being this close to Nick, his earthy scent filling Charlie's nostril, and the scruff of his beard scrapes against Charlie's neck. How long had he dreamed of being wrapped in these very arms?
It's not until Charlie notices wetness against his own shoulder that he realises Nick is crying with his head buried against him while Charlie's hands remain planted at his side.
His arms come up to hug back, worried it might not be enough to stop the onslaught of tears and Charlie feels Nick's hands grasping at the back of his shirt as he continues to cry.
Nick's sadness is palpable, and even if Charlie has no idea what's causing it, he wishes he could take it away. He's used to carrying an undue share of burden in his life, and knows he would saddle himself with more if it meant seeing Nick smile again.
They stand like this for a long while in the middle of the shop, time slipping away into the passing headlights of cars on the busy road outside.
When a group of loud teenagers walk past the shop outside, Nick seems to remember himself, his hold loosening as he stands to his full height and stops hugging Charlie.
The loss of Nick's warmth sends him reeling.
"I'm so sorry," Nick says, hands frantically rubbing at his face. He looks slightly uncomfortable and Charlie takes a step forward, boldly placing his hands on Nick's forearms until Nick looks at him.
"Don't apologise," he tells Nick softly. "Why don't you come up to my flat, and I'll make you some tea?" He has no idea if Nick likes tea, and realises too late that his offer seems very forward, but his flat is just above his shop, and it's not as strange as it sounds.
Nick agrees without hesitation and Charlie goes to lock up before grabbing Nick's hand, grateful to have some of Nick's heat back, as he leads him through the back room and up the stairs.
It's silent while Charlie makes the tea and he tries not to look at Nick too often. Nick's seated at his small dining room table, head hung a bit low as he stares at his hands.
Nick is beautiful even when he's sad, and it makes Charlie blush during the most inopportune time. He feels robbed in a way, that this is the reason Nick is in his home, but he pushes down his daydreams and faces Nick's demons.
The only words that are spoken are when Charlie asks how he takes his tea (splash of cream and two sugars) and soon enough, Charlie is sitting across from Nick, not sure if he should speak first or wait Nick out.
He's grateful when Nick speaks first. "Sometimes it's just all too much."
"What is?"
"She's really sick, Charlie," Nick says, and Charlie's nose scrunches in confusion.
"Who?" he asks, and Nick finally looks up and meets his eyes.
"My mum."
Things click into place. Oh. Oh.
"Is that who you've been buying the flowers for all this time?"
"Yeah," Nick says after a long sip of his tea. "She has chemo once a week, and I just thought maybe it might help."
"I'm sure it did." Charlie can't think of too many people who wouldn't be cheered by getting flowers every week. He still gets excited when the delivery truck brings him his wholesale orders.
One side of Nick's lips flick up briefly. "It did. She loved them. How could she not, you're so good at what you do."
Charlie has never been good at accepting compliments even under normal circumstances, let alone when he's supposed to be the one making Nick feel better. "Nick-"
"It's going well," Nick interrupts, but Charlie doesn't mind. "The doctors are really pleased, and the biopsies are coming back promising but she's so sick. It's hard to see her like that."
"I can't even imagine."
"She's so frail and I…" Nick breaks off and a tear slips down his cheek and onto the wood of the table. "What if she doesn't get better, Charlie?"
It's a question Charlie doesn't know the answer to, and one he's had to ask about himself for nearly a decade. He doesn't have cancer, but the eating disorder he's battled since his teen years is cancerous in its very nature. But he always held onto hope. Sometimes it was all he had, and while he isn't sure if Nick's mum will get better, perhaps that same sense of hope he carries with him about his own illness is the best gift he can give.
"She will, Nick," Charlie tells him, and Nick must hear the conviction in his voice, because he looks at Charlie with wide eyes. "And you being there for her like you are is helping more than you know."
Nick's hands run into his hair, pulling at the roots in frustration. "I can't even be there as much as I like because my job fucking sucks and I hate it and I hate that I hate it."
"You hate your job? But I thought you loved rugby?" Charlie still has so much to learn about Nick, it would seem.
"I do love rugby. I love the game. I love playing, but the business side of it? It's worse than I ever could have imagined."
Charlie understands more than he would care to admit. He had spent the entirety of his teen years wanting to go into publishing. He loved reading and books. Got lost in them when the world was too hard. How could he not want to spend the rest of his life making them?
But the further he got into his studies, the more he realised he was not cut out for the business world. There's too much work and too little soul, and Charlie's soul has always felt far too big for his body.
That world isn't made for him, and certainly not for good, kind-hearted people like Nick.
"I was supposed to be a teacher," Nick goes on before Charlie can even try to comfort him with his own experiences. "I've always wanted to be a teacher."
Charlie finds it's not difficult to imagine Nick as a teacher. He's an excellent communicator. He is empathetic and kind. Nick's personality is one that brings everyone in and leaves no one behind. Even the random flower shop owner.
"What happened?" Charlie asks. "Why did you not become a teacher?"
Nick lets out a frustrated huff. "It's what I went to university for. I even got my qualified teacher status. I was ready to go, but then I was offered this job and it seemed like too good an opportunity to pass up. Like maybe this was what I was supposed to do, but it's not and now I'm stuck and-"
"Nick." It's Charlie's turn to interrupt, and he reaches across the table to place his hand over Nick's. "You're not stuck. It's never too late to do what you love. I studied business in university. I was meant to go into publishing, but look where I am."
A wry smile played at the corners of Nick's mouth. "Playing therapist to your customers?"
"I think I've at least earned the title of friend by now, don't you think?" Charlie responds as a joke, though he holds his breath for the reply.
Nick looks relieved as he sits back slightly in his chair, though he doesn't move away from Charlie's touch. "I didn't want to assume. But since you've seen me cry, I guess you're stuck with me."
"Stuck or not, I'm here for you," Charlie tells him and he hopes Nick takes it to heart. "But you're not stuck in this job, Nick. You might not do anything about it today or tomorrow, or even five years from now, but when you're ready, just look into things. See if there's a position open you'd like. You have options, I promise you."
"And in the meantime?"
"Well." Charlie grins brightly. "You can always keep buying flowers for your mum. I happen to know a great little place."
oOo
The next week Nick comes on his normal day at his normal time, and Charlie is happy to see him smiling. His steps seem lighter and his dress a little less put together, sleeves rolled up past his elbows and tie slightly off centre.
"You cut your hair," Nick tells him, a large hand coming up to play in the curls that fall haphazardly on Charlie's forehead.
"Does it look that bad?" Charlie asks, playfully batting Nick's hand away.
"Not at all," Nick says, and Charlie can feel the blush spreading up his neck.
In a desperate attempt to change the subject, Charlie turns to something safe. "How's your mum doing?"
His face lights up and it's infectious, a weightlessness buoyed in Charlie's chest at the sight. "She's been so much better the last couple of days. Her energy is coming back and her appetite is bigger. And-"
Charlie listens and mods as Nick chatters on, content to be an understanding set of ears he was sure Nick needed.
"I can't believe these flowers were for your mother this whole time," Charlie says as he writes this week's message on the card.
"Who did you think they were for?"
Charlie tries to look like what he's about to say doesn't bother him. "Oh, I dunno. A girlfriend or something."
"What?" Nick looks slightly bewildered and Charlie doesn't understand why. "Why would you think that?"
"Well, you never said they were for your mum, and the messages you used didn't really tell me either, so…" he trails off with a shrug as Nick let out an incredulous laugh.
"I thought I made it really clear I was single."
"N-no?" Charlie squeaks out, still confused by the somewhat wild look inhabiting Nick's face. "But if you ever did need help impressing a girl, I'm here to help."
He means it and he doesn't. Because of course he would help Nick with whatever he asks, but the thought of helping his crush to woo some girl isn't exactly a happy one.
"What if I wanted flowers to impress a boy?"
The words ring in Charlie's ears like the aftermath of a bomb. He's briefly disoriented and the world feels upside down as his brain works to reconcile the information he's received against what he previously knows to be true.
"You…a…what?"
He expects Nick to laugh at his ridiculous response but he doesn't. Instead, he moves toward the counter, hands splayed as they brace the weight of his upper body, and he leans. So close that Charlie can see little flecks of gold in his irises.
"If I wanted to impress a boy. To let him know I like him, what flowers would you suggest?"
Charlie wracks his mind for a flower and spouts out the first that comes to mind. "R-roses are always good."
"Hmm," he hums, and Charlie somehow feels it vibrate in his own chest. "What about hydrangeas? Are those a good option?"
Hydrangeas. Nick had remembered he loves hydrangeas. "Oh, I think they're a must," he says in a whisper because his normal voice feels too loud.
"Do you think they would get me a date with him?" It sounds so earnest that a crack opens up inside Charlie, filling with more love than he knows what to do with.
He steps onto his toes and places a barely there kiss to the fullness of Nick's lips. It's the bravest thing he's ever done, and years of rejection almost stop him. When he pulls back the dreamy look in Nick's eyes tells him this will be more than fine.
"I think you should ask him and find out."
oOo
Their first date goes well. Really well.
So well, in fact, that they find themselves stumbling through the door of Charlie's shop, only able to stop kissing long enough for Charlie to unlock the door and then lock it back behind them.
Their pace is frantic and Charlie feels dizzy. Part of him wants to slow them down, to savour this as much as he can, but a greater part of him has been waiting for months believing he'd never have this chance, and that part overwhelms him to the point that he can't stop.
There would always be time to slow down on their next date. Or the next.
Nick suddenly smiles against his neck, mouth pausing from its relentless attention to Charlie's pulse point. "I can't believe you wrote all my notes just so you could try to find out more about me."
Charlie's hands stop fumbling with the buttons of Nick's shirt, instead coming up to grab his face and guide it back into another bruising kiss. "I can't believe you thought you were obviously flirting with me," he says against Nick's mouth, biting back a moan when Nick nips at his bottom lip.
"I winked at you," Nick practically growls, sending Charlie into another round of giddy giggles until he's silenced with the feeling of Nick's teeth pulling at the lobe of his ear.
They've soon made it to the counter, and Nick lifts Charlie onto it, leaving them eye level for the first time. They breathe in each other's air and Charlie's entire body shudders when Nick's thumb brushes over the button of his jeans.
"Are you sure?" Nick asks, searching Charlie's face in the dim light.
"So sure," Charlie says. "Don't you want to go up to my flat?"
Nick just shakes his head and smiles. "No."
Charlie can't even begin to process what's happening when Nick drops to his knees, and after a few awkward moments of zippers and too tight denim making its way down his thighs, Charlie is enveloped in the most exquisite wet heat he's ever felt.
His knuckles go white as he grips the edge of the counter, head thrown back while he frantically counts ceiling tiles to try and keep from coming on the spot.
Nick's head bobs and Charlie fights to keep his hips from moving. He wants more. More friction, and the swirl of Nick's tongue at his head, and that gentle scrape of teeth as Nick drags his lips up and down. It's barely been a minute, but Charlie can already feel that irresistible tingle building at the base of his spine.
He was never going to last long, he knows this. It's been ages since the last time he'd had sex and coupled with the thrill of new partner mixed with the ever disorienting rush of lust, the odds are already stacked against him.
But this was all of that put together and more. Because it's Nick and Charlie knows this is different. He's known it from the first time he ever laid eyes on the man, and even when he thought they would only ever be friends, Charlie couldn't bring himself to cut out the little space Nick had carved in his life.
That he gets to have Nick like this is too much.
Charlie glances down to find Nick watching him, and he finds it difficult to breathe. Nick's eyes are nearly black from pupils blown wide with want and his usually perfect hair is messy from Charlie's insistent fingers.
"Nick…I'm going to- I can't…" He tries to warn Nick of what's coming, to give me a chance to move off but he doesn't, large hands grabbing Charlie's hips and holding them in place while his cheeks hollow out and Charlie sees stars.
His orgasm rolls through him and he isn't quiet about it. The cry that escapes his lips doesn't sound human but he's not even remotely embarrassed by it, too drunk on the chemicals his brain is releasing to care.
Nick stands and moves to kiss him hesitantly, until Charlie takes over not caring about the slightly bitter taste of himself that lingers on Nick's tongue while his hands rake at muscled pecs underneath.
The kiss turns a touch filthy and they both pant when Nick breaks away to pull a condom from his wallet while Charlie nearly falls down in his haste to run up the stairs for lube.
He can't believe this is actually happening. How is this actually happening? Charlie wants it to keep going. Needs it to keep going, and he prays it's not just an overly realistic dream.
When he comes back and starts to face towards the counter, Nick stops him.
"I want to see you," Nick says and it's almost pleading.
Charlie nods and allows himself to be lifted back up. It's the perfect height for them to join together, and Nick presses his forehead to Charlie's, asking him again if he's sure.
"I've always been sure of you."
Nick moves and Charlie clings to him, nails digging into his shoulders in a way Charlie's sure will leave marks. Nick is timid at first, but Charlie encourages him with murmured praises and appeals for more, and soon, the pace is almost punishing.
If he had any doubt of Nick reciprocating his feelings, it's gone now. This is so good and he's full to the brim and Charlie thinks he could cry from how perfect it is.
Nick tries to bury his head in Charlie's shoulder, his mouth briefly biting into Charlie's skin, but Charlie pulls him back up and kisses him before he speaks. "I want to see you, too," he whispers against Nick's mouth and their eyes clash, both unable to look away.
Nick's hips snap against Charlie's. His rhythm grows unsteady and he mumbles hurried apologies about the quickness of it all, but Charlie just shakes his head and holds on, riding out the release and relishing the absolutely sinful sound of his name on Nick's lips as comes.
He will never forget a single moment of this.
It's hours later (after a few more rounds and a thorough disinfecting of the counter that takes far too long because Nick is extremely handsy) while they're laying in Charlie's too small bed that Charlie looks on in confusion as Nick's entire body shakes with laughter.
"What's so funny?"
Nick's hand pushes back some of Charlie's hair and Charlie wonders if Nick has a thing for it. "I just realised where the name of your shop came from. Spring Flower. I always thought you were just trying to advertise spring flowers, but your name is Spring. So…ha, I get it."
Charlie laughs with him. "Idiot." And he says it with all the affection in the world.
oOo
He doesn't just see Nick on Thursdays anymore. In fact, he sees him so regularly that on the days he doesn't, it feels off.
Summer arrives. They've been together for a month, and things are so, so good. It's strange that Charlie already knows this is it for him, but he does and though Nick hasn't told him he feels similarly, Charlie can feel that it's true for him, too.
Charlie isn't even remotely worried about the dinner plans they have with his family coming up next week, and that peace in him says more than his words ever could.
The bell chimes and Charlie can feel it's Nick before he looks up. But when he does, he sees Nick isn't alone.
There's a woman with him, and Charlie instantly recognises her even though they've never met.
Sarah Nelson is as sweet looking as Nick is, though she's significantly shorter. Her body seems frail but her spirit strong, a determined expression on her face while she leans on Nick, obviously exhausted from the walk into the shop. There's a scarf wrapped around her head, no doubt covering the loss of her hair.
"Hi there," Charlie says to the both of them and he's greeted with twin smiles.
"Hi, Charlie," Ms. Nelson says and Charlie immediately feels at ease. "I hope you don't mind but Nicky's told me so much about you, and we were in the neighbourhood, so I suggested we stop by."
"It's all her fault," Nick says sheepishly, and Charlie makes a mental note to give him a hard time later about surprising Charlie with such an important person.
"It's lovely to meet you, Ms. Nelson. I've heard so much about you." It's not just something he says because that's what you say when you meet your boyfriend's parent. He really has heard a lot about her, and Charlie already admires her almost as much as anyone he's ever met.
"I've heard so much about you, too. You should hear how Nick goes on about you," she says and Nick grumbles at her for being so mortifying but she acts like she doesn't hear. "And please, dear, call me Sarah," to which Charlie nods, though he knows he'll have a hard time doing it.
"How are you feeling?" Charlie asks, and she beams at him.
"I just finished my last round today," she says proudly, and Charlie gasps out his congratulations. "Nick and I were thinking of going out to celebrate and wanted to know if you'd like to come with us?"
"Again, this was all her idea," Nick says, his eyes seeming to implore Charlie to understand his apology and innocence.
Of course, Charlie says yes. "Why don't you look around and find something you'd like while I go and clean up?" he suggests, inwardly cringing at the lily pollen he has streaked across his clothes.
He hates those blasted flowers.
"Whatever you like, it's my treat," he finishes and Sarah tries to turn him down but he won't have any of it.
She's still browsing when he reappears and he comes to stand beside Nick, mindlessly linking their hands together in a gesture that feels like second nature, now.
"I'm sorry about this," Nick says quietly, but Charlie waves him off.
"Don't worry about it," he tells Nick, bumping their hips in an attempt to distract his boyfriend. "But considering how much you talk about me to your mum, it feels like you have a crush on me."
"A massive one," Nick says with a sigh.
"How embarrassing for you."
Nick laughs, but then his face turns contemplative. "Both of us meeting the parents. This is getting serious, Charles."
"Is that a bad thing?" Charlie asks, though he's no longer afraid of the answer.
"I don't think so. Do you?"
He watches Sarah stop and smell a fragrant arrangement just like her son had all those months ago, and he answers with surety. "Not in the slightest."
oOo
"Charlie!" he hears at the exact moment the door to the shop flies open, and he startles so badly, he nearly cuts himself. It's Christmas time and he's especially busy,
Nick rushes in, a wild look on his face and Charlie briefly panics. Is he hurt? Has something happened to Sarah? Did he finally come to his senses and realise Charlie isn't the greatest thing in the world?
But then Nick grins, coming around the counter to kiss and embrace Charlie so soundly he lifts him off the floor. "I did it," he says breathlessly.
Nick's happiness is catching and Charlie smiles back. "I'm going to need a bit more context."
"I quit my job."
"What?"
It's a lot to process, both a surprise and at the same time totally expected. Nick has agonised about this for the better part of a year now, never sure if the timing was right and doubting his ability to move back into teaching. The last time they'd discussed it was only two days before, and Nick seemed set on staying for the rest of the season.
"I quit my job," he says again, laughing as he spins Charlie around until they're both dizzy.
When he finally sets Charlie down after only a small amount of begging, Charlie looks at him. Really looks at him.
There's something distinctly different about him than there was that morning when they'd parted after Nick had spent one of his countless nights in Charlie's bed.
It hits him suddenly, when he recognises the lightness, the happiness, the freedom. It's the same way he felt when the keys to his shop were placed in his hand. Freedom.
Nick is finally free.
"What made you decide to finally do it?"
"I don't know." Nick shakes his head, and Charlie is sure he can barely believe what's happening. That he's finally going to try for the future he really wants. "They asked me if I could travel next weekend, and I just said, no. I just said no, Charlie."
"It can be a magical word."
"And then I took off my badge, and told them I was done. I'm done."
"Well, we'd better get to working on your CV then, Mr. Nelson," Charlie says and Nick's eyes soften.
"You really think I can do it?"
"Without a doubt." He pours as much conviction into his voice as he can, and the next words come out of his mouth before he can stop them. "I love you."
He's felt it for a long time, but his self-conscious nature has kept him from saying it out loud. Now that he has, he knows he'll probably be saying it an obnoxious amount, until Nick is absolutely sick of hearing it.
Nick's face registers a moment of shock before pure, unadulterated joy lights his features, a low whistle coming out of his pursed lips. "Wow, Charles. We're just full of revelations today aren't we."
"Nick," Charlie whines and Nick's whole body shakes with poorly suppressed mirth.
"You love me? How embarrassing."
"Just say it back, you jerk."
"Fine," Nick says with an exasperation it's clear he doesn't feel. "I love you, too, Charlie Spring."
oOo
The following summer brings a lot of changes.
Nick is enjoying his last few weeks of freedom, beginning his new job at a local secondary school at the start of September after substituting for the last half the year, impressing the head teacher so much that he's given the promise of a job for the next year after only filling in for a few weeks.
Charlie has loved having his help in the shop, enjoying the extra pair of hands and not having to do the heavy lifting as much. Nick doesn't exactly have an affinity for floral arrangements, but all of Charlie's regulars love him especially when they start selling some of Nick's baking projects a few times a week.
"I'm just going to take these back to the back," Nick says, a large bucket of some of the most gorgeous yellow roses in his hand. He stops when he walks by Charlie, pausing to lay a kiss at Charlie's temple and rub his nose in the curls there.
"You're a dork," Charlie says fondly and watches as he disappears through the flaps leading towards the refrigerators.
He almost doesn't notice when a customer comes in, too lost in his own musings of how lucky he was to have such a wonderful-
"Hi, Charlie!" It's one of his regulars, Mrs. Walters. She's an older woman who comes in every couple of weeks for fresh flowers to put in her flat that's just up the street. Charlie loves to see her and she claims he has the freshest flowers around, though today he's fairly certain she's here to see if there's any sugar cookies available for sale.
"Hi, Mrs. Walters. How can I help you today?"
She tells him she's fine, just looking, so he leaves her to it, though he tries not to laugh when he sees her eyeing the register for baked goods.
When she finally makes her way to the front, a bundle of fresh lavender in her arms, Charlie finally breaks the news. "We have some of those cookies you liked so much last time, if you're interested."
"Oh, thank goodness," she says. "Whoever bakes those is my favourite person in the world."
Mine too Charlie thinks as he rings her up, throwing in an extra bag of cookies while she's not paying attention as she puts away her change.
He holds out her bag with a smile, but she hesitates, eyes narrowing in on the third finger of his left hand.
"Charlie," she starts, looking from his hand to his face and back again. "Is that what I think it is?"
This has honestly been one of the best parts about the decision they made just a few short weeks ago, seeing people, both close to them and not, react in real time.
"It is. Would you like to meet him?"
She nods with enthusiasm, giggling like a primary school girl who's just found out a particularly juicy secret.
Charlie looks behind him, ready to call out to Nick when he emerges from the back as if summoned by magic. He stands beside Charlie, their fingers lacing together, and Charlie can feel the coolness from the metal of Nick's ring pressing into his palm.
Nick looks at him like he's the best person in the world, and Charlie is slowly coming to terms with the fact that even though he doesn't understand the why of it, he can at least work to accept it as his reality. He feels the exact same about Nick, after all.
They're being rude to Mrs. Walters, but he can't tear his eyes away from Nick. Instead, he takes a deep breath, letting his newfound sense of calm settle into his bones. He's done this probably a hundred times now, but it hasn't gotten old and he says with more pride than he should be allowed to have, "This is my husband, Nick."