Chapter Text
Prologue: Worthy
Charlie stretches his limbs out in front of himself, his fast runner’s legs long under the table that he is sharing with Isaac and almost reaching to the other side, his arms lifting up towards the ceiling while he yawns. Isaac looks up from the book he’s reading and lifts his eyebrows only slightly.
“Bored, are we?”
“No, I’m fine. I’m engaged, I swear!”
Isaac’s eye roll is mild (this time). “Yes, you look super engaged. Have you even started working on your paper yet?”
“Yes!” Charlie sputters defensively. “I’ve got a whole outline and everything!”
Isaac considers. “I half want to call you out for procrastinating, but I’m also half blinded by my love for outlines, so this is tough for me.”
Charlie now gets the chance to roll his own eyes. “Yes, I know, you’d marry an outline.”
Isaac smiles. “Outline or spreadsheet, I’m aroace in a very versatile way.”
“Isaac.” Charlie deadpans. “Is there any chance you’re trying to make this conversation so utterly ridiculous that I’ll give up on it and actually start my work?”
“What!” Isaac clutches his chest in mock surprise. “I thought you had already started! Are you now implying the outline wasn’t real work??”
Charlie shakes his head and pushes his chair back from the table, wincing a little at the scraping noise of the chair legs on the linoleum floor of the library. “I’m going, I’m going! You convinced me.”
Charlie wanders away from the table with somewhat of an idea of what he’s doing. His paper for Classics 210 isn’t due for another three weeks, but he wants to do a good job on this since the professor will hopefully be a mentor of his for a long time. And he does in fact have a well drafted outline, but sometimes finds it hard to make the jump from the very pretty and organized outline to the actual research and writing phase. But no matter, now is the moment. Apparently.
He knows where the relevant section is and heads there now directly, reaching the little-visited shelves near a back window, where dust mites float in the beams of weak Monday mid-day sunshine. It’s here that Pliny the Younger’s complete works have their home, and while Charlie has visited this corner of the library several times since starting his classics degree last year, he has never come to this exact area before. That must be why he never noticed an intriguing thick old tome sitting on that bottom shelf. No reason to think it’s newly arrived: it’s clearly been sitting there gathering dust for a while. It’s a well-worn copy of something printed ages ago, the binding a bit tattered and the imprinted title and author quite difficult to read. Charlie isn’t even sure why it calls his attention now, to be honest, unless it’s maybe just the faded blue and yellow color combination that he finds pleasing?
He can’t help reaching out to touch it now, and runs his fingers along the spine of the book, all the while seeing Isaac’s raised eyebrows in his mind’s eye, implying that he is procrastinating yet again. In deference to that, he sighs and first grabs Pliny’s Panegyric Traiano off of the middle shelf, where he had already spotted it, and lays it down on the floor beside him. “Yes,” he addresses it directly, “you’re coming back to the table with me and you will be very useful in my paper comparing in Praise of Trajan to modern political biographies. We’ll go in a minute, I promise.”
Turning his attention back to the mystery book, he sits down cross-legged on the floor right in front of it and pulls it out with a grunt. Heavier than he had expected. And the front cover is just as reluctant to give up clues to its identity. It just looks well-used and well-loved, the golden letters spelling the title almost completely flaked off and no hint as to the contents. Charlie can’t resist cracking it open, noticing only subconsciously that there is no spine label with any kind of distinguishing number anywhere on it.
The front cover opens with a creak so quiet that it’s felt rather than heard. Charlie instinctively lifts it to his face to breathe in that wonderful old-book smell and is not disappointed. Flipping forward, he notices there is no table of contents, which strikes him as somewhat odd but he moves on. The book starts with what looks like a dedication. There is no introduction nor explanation, just a short italicized line reading: “ To Sophie Volland, July 1759” and then a plunge into a paragraph that somehow grips Charlie’s heart at first read.
As he reads down the page he realizes it’s more a love letter than a dedication, written with so much emotion that it seems to dance off the paper. Whoever penned this was deeply in love with Sophie and wanted her to know it so, so much. It’s gripping on the one hand because it’s sweet and touching and endearing, and on the other hand because it grazes a fear Charlie has been dealing with recently in therapy–and in his heart. Is Charlie worthy of love?
Charlie has of late been grappling with the after-effects of people in his past who had told him that no, he wasn’t and isn’t worthy of love. These were people that he trusted (perhaps mistakenly, but there isn’t anything to do about that now). They told him with words and actions, and lack of both, that he is no more than someone to be put up with, to be endured, to be tolerated. From them, he learned that it is hard work to love him or live with him, and it’s not a very distant jump from that to thinking that it’s going to be tough to find anyone who wants to put in that kind of effort and time.
He could have been like so many other college students who simply haven’t had a great love story yet but look forward to it with eager hope; but rather he feels like he is starting from behind. He isn’t just your standard single guy interested to see who he might meet or what might happen on tinder or at a uni party. He feels like a lot of work lies ahead to get to that neutral starting point, the one where you don’t know what might happen but you at least think something could. No, Charlie first has to grapple with the feeling that his heart and his mind aren’t to be valued or treasured; that they are difficult . That he’ll need to either get used to being alone or to being in a relationship with a person who would be willing to lower their standards to be with someone as flawed as he is. He knows intellectually that this isn’t true about him, but when your emotions don’t believe something, is “intellectual knowledge” really useful at all?
This has been a very tough lesson to unlearn and he’s been working through it with his therapist Geoff, his closest friends, and sometimes just by being emotional in the night and hugging his love-worn stuffed animal Kitty while looking up at the moon through his dorm window. And for the most part, so far, he has not been convinced. He’s seen a few tiny clues that make him think maybe . For example, there are a lot of shitty people out there in the world who find love–so why not him? Also, he remembers a sweet, shy boy who seemed interested in a spin the bottle kiss during a party on a school trip years ago (though nothing ended up happening). His friends swear up and down that he is a catch, and on a drunken night (or three) he may or may not have swiped on Tinder with them and gotten a few matches. But nothing concrete has happened to make him see finding joy as a possibility, and frankly plenty has happened to make him suspect the opposite. Kinda feels like the universe is smirking at him most of the time, snatching the ball away at the last second like a giant galactic Lucy to his small, puny, earth-bound Charlie (Brown).
So who or what has plunked this passage down right in front of his eyes and heart and mind, and why? How did he manage to find himself staring directly at this and not being able to tear his eyes away? It was for Sophie, right? But any chance it could also be true for Charlie?
“Never was a passion more justified by reason than mine. Is it not true, my dear…? Examine yourself–see how worthy you are of being loved; and know that I love you very much. That is the unvarying standard of my feelings.”
He realizes on his third read what about it is grabbing his attention. It’s not just that the writer professes a deep feeling of profound love; it’s that he vows that there is a reason for it . The recipient of the love isn’t just lucky, fated, or in the right place at the right time. They are worthy of it. There is something about them that grabbed the whole soul of the author, whom Charlie discovers as his eyes finally reach the bottom of the page is French philosopher and novelist Denis Diderot, who penned the letter to his lover of almost three decades, Sophie Volland.
There is an underlying truth here that starts to tickle Charlie’s insides. Yes, being in a relationship with someone caring and smart and funny and handsome would be wonderful. It would make him feel happy and able to dream for the future. But beyond that (or before that?) Charlie might just be able to understand that his worth shines brightest of all. Not as an accompaniment to someone else; as his own divine self.
He isn’t there yet. The idea is before him but he can’t quite grasp it fully. Still he can’t abandon the feelings it stirs up in him, and he decisively shuts the book and grabs it to take with him as he stands up.
Isaac is on his day off today, but his afternoons are usually spent working at this very library, so he takes both of their piles of books up to the desk to check them out. Charlie is too busy getting his things together and scrolling through his phone, leaning against the entrance as he waits, to notice the perplexed look Isaac gives when he notices that the thick ornate volume doesn’t have a call number or any other information to catalog it in the library’s collection. He almost turns to ask a colleague what they think, when suddenly the cover catches his attention and he leans down towards it, peering closely. Charlie hadn’t spent too long looking at it so didn’t see what Isaac sees: patched together, the remaining flecks of gold leaf show a shadow of the title Heartstopper and just underneath, in even smaller typeface, “NLN&CFS.”
Isaac glances up at Charlie, back to the book, then seems to make a decision and slips it into his own canvas tote without another word. They leave the building and head towards home.
**********
Chapter 1: Meet-Cute
Charlie has an exam later that week, and then works a double shift at the coffee shop the following weekend, so he does not actually get the head start on that paper that he had hoped for. Finally, Sunday night he feels the pang of a guilty conscience combined with a genuine shard of fear that he has to get writing or it will never happen, so he clears a spot on his desk and grabs Isaac’s tote that hasn’t been touched in almost a week.
Feeling around for Panegyric Traiano, he's startled by something old and leathery, and he suddenly remembers the mysterious book he brought home. Is he really in the mood to dive into questions of self-worth right now? Luckily he happens to look up briefly and sees that Isaac is staring pointedly at him as he holds the book in his lap, rubbing his thumb along the side. They both roll their eyes, and Charlie sets it aside in deference to his classics paper.
He ends up pulling an all-nighter since he doesn’t have any morning classes on Monday, and finally calls it a night around 4:15 a.m. He’s essentially finished the first section and workshopped an introduction, and feels decent about them, planning to re-read them and make any necessary adjustments to the overall outline the following evening. He gets ready to sleep quietly, as Isaac has already drifted off a few hours before.
Settling into bed, he reaches over to turn out the bedside lamp when he notices the blue and yellow book on the nightstand. Is that where he left it before? He can’t remember but shrugs, and hauls it into bed with him. The volume is still intriguing him and calling his name silently, and he figures he can just avoid that first section about the whole silly notion of being worthy.
Let’s flip right past that page, shall we? , he suggests gently to himself.
Skimming his eyes down over the following page quickly, he discovers this passage is taken from a teenage romance novel, of all things. He wrinkles his nose and starts to close the book when he spots a paragraph right in the middle.
“I’ve never felt a connection like this with anyone else. I don’t even know how to explain it. I feel like I already knew you before I met you, and the first time I saw you, the first time I talked to you, was incidental, because the connection was already there.”
M. Molly Backes, The Princesses of Iowa. Yep, never heard of it, likely to never stumble upon it again. Charlie even doubts that Isaac, the most well-read among them, has heard of it. None of their group is very likely to read “YA romance.” And the little section piques some interest somewhere inside Charlie, but he mostly dismisses it and turns to go to sleep, turning off the light and leaving the book open where it lay.
He wakes up shortly after noon and scrambles to get ready for class. He gets dressed and grabs his bag while already thinking about the reading he’d done for this class back on Friday now (in a burst of “being prepared ahead of time”) and hopes there isn’t a pop quiz as he’s mostly forgotten it now. At the last minute he decides to get a granola bar from his desk drawer, and in the process his eyes alight once more on the passage from The Princesses of Iowa. Today after a decent amount of sleep and maybe a sexy dream or two (everyone dreams, right?), his interest in the lines is slightly more personal. As he speed-walks to class he thinks about what that might feel like, to feel that close a connection to someone immediately. Hell, what would it be like to easily feel that close a connection with anyone at all? Other than his siblings, there is a small circle of friends with whom he feels a deep trust and intimacy, but that took a lot of work to get to that place. He knows that his friends love and accept him, but sometimes still self-doubts and wonders if they’re just enduring him and secretly he’s just a burden. What would it be like to find someone who just got him , with no fear of any judgment? And Charlie isn’t exactly a believer in soulmates, but the one in a million chance of that person existing might be just as needle-in-a-haystack-y as a soulmate.
His thoughts quickly turn away from the book and the feels as he enters his Experiential Learning course. The lecture is fairly interesting and near the end he actually (surprisingly) enjoys the discussion on design precepts for online programs, which he has with a small group of 3 others, desks pushed together. At the end of the class he’s helping move the desks and chairs back into position when he bumps into something behind him that lets out a yelp. He whirls around and gasps at the sight of a white t-shirt completely stained blue.
“Oh, no! I’m so sorry!” Charlie blurts out, staring at the growing stain and not even taking in the whole scene yet. That happens in the next instant, when he hears the yelper’s voice take on a softer quality and speak directly to him.
“Oh, no! That’s ok! It’s no big deal. It will probably just wash right out…” The voice trails off sheepishly.
Charlie can’t help but laugh. “What is that, anyway? Kool-Aid or something? I’ve never seen something that blue being drunk outside of a dorm party–” at this, his eyes have finally trailed upwards and landed on a freckled, smiling, starry-eyed face, framed by ginger hair and apparently a halo of some kind?? Charlie feels dazed and shakes his head.
The other must feel the same, because he smiles all out of proportion and stammers a few times before answering. “Uh, no, uh, I mean yes, it is Kool-Aid! But it’s blue raspberry lemonade, so totally worth it. I mean, have you tried it?”
“I have not. But then it’s been a while since I’ve been to an American county fair.” Charlie has no idea where this sass is coming from and almost surprises himself, but the boy looking back at him smirks with an almost knowing, familiar look.
“Oh, a smart-ass, huh? So much for the apologetic mood, that went right out the window.”
“Hey, this could be a good thing! You could start a new fashion trend or something.” Charlie’s surprise has given way to a similar smirk and the two of them stand staring at each other, standing on opposite sides of a desk covered in the dripping blue liquid and, for the moment, neither of them making any move to clean up. That changes when one of the students from Charlie’s recent group discussion tosses a small travel pack of tissues at him and it hits him square in the chest. That breaks the spell that had kept their eyes locked together, as Charlie looks down to grab the package and their gazes fall.
A few minutes later they have cleaned up most of the mess and the lecture hall has emptied out. They find themselves walking out side by side and sneaking glances at each other as they discuss where each is headed next.
“I’m that way,” Charlie points in the direction of the quad. “I’m actually running to get there on time right now, so…”
“Oh, do you have work?” The question had come out automatically and both of them consider briefly how that correct assumption was made so easily, but it beats them.
“Actually, yeah. I work at the coffee shop in the student union. And I’m supposed to be there in about five minutes,” Charlie smiles sheepishly. “What are you up to now? You can’t have any classes following that one, right?” This was not magic but rather an educated guess due to the time of day. The other smiles ruefully.
“No, you’re right, no more classes today, but I have rugby practice.” Charlie’s first instinct, to be wary of the rugby lad, somehow does not worry him. When he looks into the brown eyes, he feels sure of the kindness and understanding that he sees there, with none of the bullying that characterized the kind of lads that were on the rugby team back in high school. His next words feel so natural that they roll off his tongue with no hesitation.
“Ah, well enjoy! And I’m at work for the next four hours if you want to stop by afterwards.”
Charlie’s invitation should have been a surprise, bold as it is and, to be honest, completely out of character (when has he ever asked a boy to come visit him at work? When has he ever asked a boy to do anything literal moments after meeting him?), but it feels warmly and comfortably inevitable to both of them.
“Yeah,” the other nods at the suggestion, a few strands of the ginger hair falling across his forehead. “Yeah, I think I will.”
Charlie’s smile feels way too big but also completely reasonable. As they turn to walk away from each other he waves and says “I’ll save you a seat.”
He hasn’t gone five paces when he hears that familiar voice, now slightly raised, call to him, “Hey!”
He turns back with a bemused look on his face and responds, “Hey?”
The other has hastened back to him. “Yeah, I definitely completely forgot to introduce myself.”
Charlie bursts out laughing and puts his hand over his mouth. The idea literally had not even occurred to him as they fell into easy conversation immediately. “Me too! I’m Charlie.”
“Charlie, truly lovely to meet you. I’m Nick.”
When Isaac stops by the coffee shop about an hour later and Charlie recounts this conversation to him, there is inevitable eye-rolling, but there is also a raised eyebrow at the ease and normalcy with which it all happened. Isaac doesn’t voice his thoughts out loud, almost like not wanting to ruin the magic by looking behind the curtain, but rather just makes a typical Isaac comment about believing in love at first sight that makes Charlie blanch and sputter to defend himself.
Isaac is still seated in one of the plush chairs near the baked goods counter when Nick comes in about an hour after that, and his distance from the two of them is perfect for some light eavesdropping.
“Nick! How was practice?”
“Good! It’s getting a little chillier in the late afternoons but we still have so much fun out there. You should come see a game sometime!”
“Oh! I literally never considered that.”
“Yeah, even if it’s not your thing though, it would be awesome to have you there.”
“Oi! Exactly what do you mean by that–Am I not enough of a lad to like rugby?” Isaac sneaks a glance and sees the wide smiles on both faces, reassuring himself that there is no insulting going on on either side, but really rather painfully the opposite. Whoever this guy is, that Charlie has just managed to meet and befriend at the speed of light, is looking awfully like he is going to stick around for a while.
That evening Isaac contemplates sneaking a look at Charlie’s old library book, wanting to confirm a hunch that has been dancing around his mind all afternoon, but he is already in bed and decides he’ll check later. Besides, it is pretty obvious: no matter whether Charlie had seen it coming or not – he has just had a completely adorable meet cute. The sacrifice of a clean t-shirt and several hours worth of concentration at work were just the beginning. A chapter one, if you will.