Chapter Text
It was one of those days that began with too weak tea and a mix-up of socks. This was followed up by a technical disturbance with the internet connection of his phone so that Nick couldn’t do the Wordle like every morning, an absurd sequence of red lights on his way to work, the tardy recognition of having put on the minimally too tight jeans that shaved like crazy after half an hour, and the disastrous news that the carrot cake had been sold out when Nick made the usual stop at his favourite bakery.
“Sorry, Nick,” Liv behind the counter seemed genuinely regretful. “Today is totally crazy. Everyone wanted your favourite.”
It was exactly one of those terrible days, and Nick didn’t expect anything good coming from it anymore when he set eyes on the most perfect human being he had ever encountered.
It was midday, and he was sitting on a bench in front of the Chez Alphonse , a high-class, over-prized restaurant that his boss Benjamin Hope often visited to finalise important deals and to suck up to potential customers. Gratefully, Nick had been ordered to run some errands during lunch time instead of participating, which he had to do often enough to know that nothing was worse than sitting there, watching Hope’s smarmy smile that, astonishingly, charmed most people and listening to the bullshit coming out of his boss’ mouth. Nick was not the numbers guy in the company, hell no. But he talked to the numbers guy and to the strategy nerd and the lawyer lady often enough to add their info to his own experience as Hope’s personal assistant and form a picture of an enterprise that differed enormously from the one Ben Hope painted for third parties.
In the beginning of his working days at Hope Holding, Nick had been bothered by these discrepancies. An honest man at heart, he had needed some time to adapt to the strange world of business and its requirements of subterfuge, tricks, blatant ostentation and fake gold. As far as he knew, nobody committed any serious frauds, but the line was fine and hardly visible, and you had to possess the balance of a ballet dancer to not fall over to the wrong side. Hope possessed this balance, had probably swallowed it with his mother’s milk as the youngest of a long row of Hopes heading the family business. What he didn’t have, though, was patience, a sense of fairness, or the slightest understanding of empathy. He didn’t have to, Nick often thought. Hope got through life by using others to achieve his goals, and since he always achieved them, there was no reason for him to change his approach. That was only normal human behaviour, was is not?
Why did Nick stay with a man like that?
Simple.
He needed the job.
After he had been injured during a rugby game when trying out for the professional league, he soon understood why his mom had always encouraged him to have an alternative plan. Not because she believed that he wouldn’t make it, but because it was just common sense. He got that - after the fact.
In his youth, he had felt invincible. He had always been the rugby king at school and had been able to transfer this image of himself to his uni years, which, in hindsight, was incredibly embarrassing, but at the time was what everyone had called him. He had always been awkward with the moniker, but striving to give his best on the field and earning the merits of his hard work and discipline had been worth it. His success had been who he was, until the success ended abruptly and he was … who exactly? Nobody really. Right?
It had been three very hard months in which he almost drowned in a wild sea of darkness and hopelessness and a paralyzing fear of the future that loomed before him bleak and without any purpose. His self-confidence had been at an all-time low, especially as he recognized that rugby had been a bubble really and that he knew nothing of life in the real world. Adding to his misery was the fact that he had to pay back a loan he had taken out after losing his sports scholarship and trying to finish uni the usual way. It hadn’t worked. He hadn’t believed that he could do it and proved himself right in the end. Nick had left uni without graduating..
Again, his mom had been the saving anchor. She convinced him to get a job. Any job. She said that he should get as much experience as he could, changing jobs frequently, getting a sense of where his interests might lie beside sports. He didn’t really believe that her suggestion would work, but he owed it to her who had always supported him, no matter what, and honestly, what else was he to do?
Nick had no clue what he wanted. In job interviews, there was nothing he feared more than the question where he saw himself in five years. He knew it was meant in terms of the company. It was meant in the most narrow, industrial sense, but for Nick it always felt like the opening to the abyss behind which only the dark, empty hole of his loserdom waited.
To his surprise, he made a decent PA. The job at Hope Holding had been the sixth in his plan to find out more about himself, and it was the first one that gave him a notion of what it felt like being good at something again. Nick hated sitting at a desk the whole day. Maybe Hope was an arse of the first order, but he let him run around, talk to people, buy stuff, organise events and generally network, which made for short and often interesting days. Nick got along well with his colleagues. His kind, mostly sweet-tempered nature made it possible to work with Hope. The latter seemed to think so, too, because Nick’s responsibilities had grown quickly and vastly during the last four years. It was such a relief to be successful again, even if it came with a cost, but Nick thought that, at least, he had learned this by now - being an adult simply meant that everything good came with a sacrifice.
And so he had stayed despite the temper tantrums, the false accusations, the lack of respect and the too-big-to-be-honest apology gifts. He was well-paid, he felt needed, and he developed a capability to ignore the unpleasant feeling in his gut every time his mom asked him over Sunday lunch if he had found his calling. She never judged. She accepted his decisions like she always had. But Nick was and would always be a Mama’s boy and he would never feel anything but wrong in his own skin when he lied to her, even when it was a lie he told himself in the first place.
Hope had been in a spectacularly good mood this morning, which, strangely enough, could be almost more taxing than when he yelled at them all for being incompetent, blood-sucking shits. Like this, he made overtures that always went a bit too far, wanted to be complimented excessively, was definitely too handsy all around. Nick wondered what might have happened the previous night. His boss had been at a social event that had been catered by one of the major cultural clubs of the city. Publishers, musicians, writers, theatre folk had attended to mingle with the invited rich people everybody wanted to win over to invest in their respective project. Since Hope didn’t have a single creative bone in his body, he had obviously been invited for his purse. But instead of complaining how everybody wanted to fleece him, he had hummed an - admittedly - irritating tune when getting into office this morning later than usual, but it had been a merry tune.
Nick had been quick with the errands and now used the unexpected free time to enjoy his own lunch in the mild late summer sun. He bit into his tuna sandwich, watching his boss make lively conversation with the two business partners he was meeting in Chez Alphonse on the other side of the street. They were clearly visible through the large front windows. Nick suspected he had met these two before, but somehow all these white, middle-aged business men mixed into one face in his mind, so he couldn’t be sure. They were still at their aperitifs and hadn’t ordered their meals yet, but Hope had said that they would be four persons so they probably waited for the still missing one.
Nick stretched his legs out, inwardly cursing his jeans again, took another bite and closed his eyes for a few moments, enjoying the moment of quietude and not having to be at that table right now, listening to and mediating the shark talk.
When he opened his eyes again, he watched a figure hurrying along the street. As it came closer, Nick recognized a young man, approximately his own age, with a dark mop of hair and a somewhat stooped posture. He seemed forlorn, for some reason. The bag he was holding seemed to be way too heavy for him. He was even swaying a bit. Nick’s limbs twitched before he had even made the decision. He had time on his hands. Hope would be busy for the next hour or more, so Nick could get up and help a stranger carrying his burden to wherever he needed it to be. That would be far more helpful for this stranger than Nick making up sad background stories about him that were in all likelihood false.
Nick dumped the foil of his lunch sandwich into the litter box beside the bench, got up and crossed the street. Before he had reached the other side, however, disaster struck. The young man stumbled over an invisible rock, lost his footing and fell onto his knees, dropping his bag during the process. Its whole content spread all over the pavement.
Nick quickened his step and stood beside the fallen man in an instant. He stuck out his hand.
“Hey, are you okay? Let me help you please.”
Apparently a bit dazed, the young man looked up from his crouching position on the ground and Nick got hit by his troubled ocean-blue gaze for the first time, losing his cool on the spot, as he had not learnt to hate this gaze yet.
“Ehm,” Nick stuttered, “hi?”
The young man bit his lower lip, looking fearful and very lovely, but, above all, stressed. At such close distance Nick could see that the dark hair was actually a tumble of extraordinary curls over delicate features, bold eyebrows and a stubborn chin under a generous mouth. It all made for an impossible composition, but somehow it worked perfectly. This man had to be the most beautiful person Nick had ever seen in his life and he was awestruck.
Awestruck to such an extent that he drew his hand back when the man was cautiously moving to take it, which made a scowl appear on his beautiful face. Nick panicked and instinctively shot forward to grab the young man under his armpits and put him on his feet in one spirited movement. Like a doll.
Nick winced.
Shit.
“Sorry, I wasn’t … I shouldn’t have …”
There was a moment of silence during which a myriad of expressions ran over the young man’s face until it settled into the most wonderful, tentative smile. “No, you shouldn’t have. It’s quite impolite to manhandle someone without introducing oneself first.”
Nick couldn’t breathe. The voice’s slightly teasing tone, the soft cadence, the amusement underneath, it all went right under his skin, making it buzz, making his brain short-circuit.
“Nick Nelson.” His hand shot out again as if he was a robot on acid, and Nick despaired of himself.
But, marvelously, the man didn’t lose his smile and caught Nick’s hand this time, and Nick was irrevocably lost as soon as he touched the man’s cool, very soft skin.
“Charlie Spring.”
Nick held on without shaking as if his robot was running on low batteries now, but, in the end, forced himself to let go. The last thing he wanted was for this divine creature to feel intimidated or even threatened by him. The man wasn’t so much smaller in height, but his body was built a lot more slender. Everything about him screamed at Nick to wrap him into his arms to protect and cuddle and hold on tight.
Nick swallowed, a bit alarmed by his own fierce reaction. He had never experienced such a fervent attraction towards a stranger before. No, not a stranger. Charlie Spring. The perfect name for a very …
“You are so … just, how can you be real?”
Something like uneasiness flickered over Charlie Spring’s face.
For fuck’s sake, had Nick said that out loud?! Way not to intimidate him, idiot!
“That came out all wrong,” Nick hurried to say.
“To be honest, I don’t understand what you wanted to say in the first place,” Charlie Spring said cautiously.
Nick hated that this wonderful person felt the need to be cautious with him, but, yeah. If he would manage to behave like a normal person, Charlie Spring maybe wouldn’t feel the need to.
“Ehm, well, yeah, so, the thing is … of course, I meant it as a fact, an objective fact about your objective beauty, you know without any personal … hmm … I mean … and that’s why … you know?”
“Not really.” Charlie Spring stared at him in a rather intense way. As if he wanted to decipher a particularly complex code when, right this moment, Nick felt like the easiest man to read: He adored this man! Could it be that Charlie Spring actually didn’t know how utterly adorable he was?
There. The tentative smile again. Nick’s eyes zoomed in on Charlie Spring’s lips. A dimple appeared on the right cheek. Nick began to sweat.
“Can I help you carry your bag?” He blurted.
“Why? Do you think I am too small and weak to do it myself?”
“No! No! It’s just that …” Helplessly, Nick glanced at what seemed to be Charlie Spring’s whole household spread around them on the pavement - two woolly jumpers, a pair of jeans, an impressive amount of books, a toilet bag, earbuds, a thick envelope, a purse, a … stuffed animal? What was it? A teddybear … no, a little cat.
“Who is that?” Nick asked, charmed, but the toy was snatched right under his pointer finger and hidden away in the depth of the bag.
With bright red cheeks, Charlie Spring started to gather up his remaining things. Nick crouched down to help him, taking care not to get too close. He tried to only grab stuff that hopefully wouldn’t make Charlie self-conscious and handed it to him. It was ridiculous, but touching this man’s possessions felt strangely intimate. Nick’s hand tingled. He could feel his pulse throughout his whole body.
“I like it,” Nick said.
“What?”
“Your bag. I like the stitched daisies on it.”
“I … yes, me too. It was a present from someone. Thank you.”
“You are welcome.” Nick winced. Seriously? You are welcome?? He hadn’t been the one presenting Charlie this bag!
For security reasons, Nick deemed it best to shut up for the time being. When they had collected everything, they stood for a moment, checking the pavement again.
“I think that was all,” Charlie said finally and looked up at Nick. “Thank you.”
He managed to be shy and direct at the same time. His lashes were so incredibly long. He reminded Nick of a Disney prince. A Disney prince in skinny jeans, a woolly jumper and Converse. Nick felt pressure rise within him. He had to do something. He had to say something urgently, before Charlie Spring went his way, and Nick would never see him again.
It’s you , were the first words coming into his mind. I’ve found you, he wanted to say . You are my person. You are the person I am destined to spend my life with.
“Can I —,” he began, but Charlie interrupted.
“Actually, I am already at my destination. And I am already too late.” Charlie’s gaze was warm and so very blue. Nick embraced the drowning, and then the words registered and his heart took such a violent leap that it hurt. Could it be true? Did Charlie feel it, too? But why did he think he was too late? He was perfectly on time!
Charlie took his bag and slung the strap over his shoulder. It cut into the skin of his neck. Nick’s hand flew to his own neck as if he could ease the weight through his own flesh.
Charlie nodded at the doors of the Chez Alphonse . “I am meeting someone here.” He smiled again, a bit bigger this time, rendering Nick speechless. “Thank you for your help. You turned out to be really kind and not creepy at all.”
Nick felt his face burn in remembrance of his unorthodox behaviour a few minutes earlier.
Charlie’s smile gained some mischief. “I suspect that you are kind of a dork, aren’t you? Underneath all … this.” He made a vague hand gesture that included all of Nick’s body.
Nick wanted to ask what exactly Charlie meant by that, but he couldn’t find his voice in time. Charlie waved at him with a cute little wiper motion and made his way into the five-star restaurant, bag and all.
Shit.
Fuck.
Fuckity shit fuck shit.
Okay. Deep breath, Nelson. Time to buck up and make a plan. Nothing is lost.
He would regain his seat on the bench on the other side of the street and wait for Charlie to come out again. As soon as he did, Nick would ask him for his number like a normal person. And then he would wait for 24 hours, after which he would call Charlie to ask him out. Also like a normal person. He would not mention that he had fallen for him in the first ten seconds of their meeting. He would not mention that he was certain they were meant to be together. No. He would take Charile Spring on a very nice and appropriate date, at the end of which he would ask Charlie, if he, maybe, would allow Nick to kiss him. And then Nick would ask him out on a second date, and then on a third. And when Charlie would agree, they would start dating seriously. And after a year would have passed, Nick would ask him to move in with him. And after a not absurdly crazy short period of time (How long would that be? Six months? Nine?), he would ask Charlie to marry him. And then there would be a house, maybe a little cottage, and kids, maybe after three years together, because they would need some time to spend alone before. And then …
Nick was so immersed in his dream of this perfect future that he almost missed what happened in the restaurant. It was only when Charlie Spring approached Ben Hope’s table that Nick saw his boss jump up and join Charlie in two quick steps. He took Charlie’s bag and put it behind the table towards the window through which Nick watched the scene unfold. Hope grabbed Charlie Spring and pressed a hand to the small of his back. At first, Nick wasn’t able to process what was happening right in front of his eyes, his dream still prominent and so real in his mind. Until it shattered with the third kiss Hope pressed onto Charlie Spring’s lips, while Charlie lifted his arms and wrapped them around Nick’s boss, effectively destroying all of Nick’s hopes.