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from the moment i first saw you
Charlie is a dangerous creature, that much is obvious. Trouble seems to cling to him like a stench, permeating the air and making it hard for Nick to breathe around him. He was outed as gay in Year 9, and he’s been fighting for his life ever since. However, Nick was painfully aware of Charlie long before any of that transpired.
The first time Nick saw him, it was the beginning of the school year, and he captured his attention the second he walked through the gates.
He noticed him in ways he’d never noticed another boy before. Charlie was soft and delicate, angelic even. With a face carved from marble and a body carved from granite. He was so pretty. Could boys be pretty?
i was yours and you were mine
It was like gravity, like inevitability, some cosmic force both pushing and pulling them together. Even before they spoke a word, something inside Nick whispered: you belong to this one.
Too soon to think about it, because Harry Greene noticed him too. Vile, closeted Harry with his big mouth and his even bigger group of mates, willing to expose any insecurity, prey on any perceived signs of weakness, and torment those they thought deserved it.
The first time Charlie was bullied, it was easy for Nick to ignore the jeers and homophobic taunts.
There was insinuation and assumption, sure. But there was never confirmation.
Until there was.
deep down we both knew you were trouble by design
“Did you hear that someone in Year 9 is gay?”
“How disgusting.”
“Shouldn’t he know better, being at an all-boys school?”
“Yuck, do you think he looks at us in the bathroom?”
“He shouldn’t even be allowed near us. What if we catch it?”
“I’d rather be dead than gay.”
Nowhere was safe. It was being whispered into every ear, written on every note and passed to every student. Nick was suffocated by the news. It spread unbelievably fast, completely by word of mouth. By horrible words of horrible mouths. It was severely damaging to a boy already questioning his sexuality, but he can’t even imagine how damaging it was to Charlie himself.
The first time Charlie got into a fight, it was all of a sudden, like something snapped.
Weeks of hushed laughter in classrooms, being pushed into lockers, and tripping over feet in the halls, all culminated into one powerful, deafening, nose-breaking punch right in the middle of Harry’s idiot face.
The crack of bone echoed throughout the entire school, and did something alarmingly satisfying to Nick’s insides.
Unfortunately, it was short-lived. Harry was so much bigger, so much stronger than Charlie. After the shock subsided, Harry beat him. And he beat him hard.
But Charlie doesn’t lose fights anymore.
and the echo of my mother's words, "baby, don't you play with fire"
The first time Nick and Charlie spoke, it was behind the school building.
“Want a hit?”
Nick wasn’t sure if Charlie was talking to him at first. He was just on his way to the rugby pitch, his back turned to the object of his confusing desires as he pretended that Charlie, much like his homoromantic feelings, didn’t exist.
“It’s rude to ignore people, you know. Especially when they’re trying to be generous.”
That made Nick turn around, wide-eyed.
“M-Me?”
Charlie was leaning up against the brick, foot propped up on the wall behind him and holding a blunt with two fingers, like a scene from a movie Nick’s never going to be cool enough to watch.
“See anyone else around here?” Charlie mused, taking a drag and blowing a cloud of smoke in Nick’s direction. They were about three metres apart, but Nick swore he was contact high already. That was the only conceivable explanation for his sudden light-headedness and shortness of breath.
There was nobody around. Just him and Charlie.
“U-Uh, no. Thank you, though.” Nick said nervously, timidly.
“Suit yourself.” He took another puff, holding it in his lungs for a solid three heartbeats before letting it go. Why could Nick hear his own heartbeat so well?
He was itching to leave, but too afraid to make any sudden movements as Charlie’s gaze travelled up and down his form. Nick felt like he was trembling.
“You’re scared of me,” Charlie observed.
“I…” Nick gulped. “I don’t think that’s it.”
“You’re not like the other rugby boys,” Charlie continued, as if Nick hadn’t said anything at all. Nick felt small, felt insignificant, felt hot. “Why not?” he finished.
“I don’t know,” Nick said. Another gulp. He’s told the truth, now – the terrifying, complicated truth. He didn’t know.
“Hm,” Charlie hummed. “You sure you don’t want a hit? Might loosen you up a little. You know, get you ready to be around all those lads you don’t care for.”
Even through the briefest of interactions, Charlie understood him. Far too well, in a way he sensed nobody else could. It was disconcerting, it was terrifying, it was arousing.
There was a pause.
A long pause.
“I think I’d like one, actually.”
i was always playing the part
The first time Nick touched Charlie, it wasn’t how he imagined it would be.
Their skin had probably brushed before, in the passing of a joint, in the graze of elbows as they stood side-by-side, chatting briefly before Nick’s rugby practice.
But this time, the touch was intentional, it was planned.
Their relationship has always been strange. Not quite best friends, but not quite strangers either. It was weird then, like it is now. In those early days, they would meet behind the building and sometimes smoke, – sometimes weed, sometimes a cigarette – and sometimes just talk. Conversations were careful on Nick’s part, almost like he was afraid, holding something back; but Charlie was reckless, unguarded, and unapologetically himself. It was fascinating.
Nick hadn’t seen Charlie at school that day, even though he usually passed him in the halls once or twice, so he wasn’t expecting him to show up at their usual meeting spot.
But Charlie was there. Barely so, but he was there. His bottom lip was split open, he had dried blood under a crooked nose and his left eye was bruised purple. Nick couldn’t hold in his gasp at the sight.
“Charlie, what the fuck happened?”
Charlie waved it off. “It’s nothing.”
Nick felt something, then. Something unfamiliar, something protective, something primal. He opened his bag, silently thanking his mum for forcing him to pack a first-aid kit for rugby. He pulled out the antiseptic wipes and approached Charlie, who had been curiously watching what Nick was doing.
“It’s not nothing. You’re hurt,” Nick huffed, wiping Charlie’s cupid's bow. Their faces were closer than Nick thought they would be, and he could hear his own blood rushing in his ears, the very same kind he was currently cleaning up.
“I’ve hurt worse.” Charlie’s breath smelled of tobacco and smoke. It should be unpleasant, but instead of Nick’s stomach churning, it filled with violent butterflies.
Once Charlie’s nose was cleaned, Nick reached into his kit again, pulling out an instant ice pack. He gave it a sharp squeeze, waiting for the chemicals to react, then pressed the cooling compress gently against Charlie’s bruised eye.
Charlie didn’t flinch. Instead, he just watched, captivated by Nick’s every movement, like no one had ever done this for him before.
“Hold it there,” Nick instructed.
Charlie hesitated, like he wanted to argue, but then his fingers wrapped around Nick’s hand instead of the pack. He didn’t take it from him – just held them there, together, as if testing the warmth of Nick’s skin against the cold.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Then Nick blinked, remembered what he was supposed to be doing, and let go. The loss of contact was immediate and devastating, but Charlie didn’t protest, just shifted the pack into his own grasp and held it there.
Nick pressed the antiseptic wipe to Charlie’s split lip, trying to be gentle, but Charlie still winced dramatically, sucking in a sharp breath.
Nick’s heart stuttered. “Shit- I’m so sorry.”
Charlie grinned suddenly, his good eye glinting with mischief. “Was just messing with you.”
Nick let out a heavy sigh, shaking his head and laughing despite himself. “God, I hate you.”
Charlie only smiled wider. “But you don’t, do you?”
Nick stilled. His fingers hovered over Charlie’s jaw. He swallowed hard, suddenly overwhelmed by the teasing lilt in Charlie’s voice, by how close they were, by how much he really, really didn’t hate him.
“I don’t,” Nick admitted.
Charlie’s smile softened, something else flickering in his expression. “And isn’t that strange?”
“Hm?” Nick hummed absentmindedly, refocusing on the task at hand as he carefully assessed Charlie’s broken nose.
Charlie’s voice was quieter this time, almost thoughtful. “That you don’t hate me.”
Nick didn’t understand what Charlie meant, why on earth it would be strange.
“You know everybody hates me, right?” Charlie asked, and Nick faltered. It was an honest question, that’s what Nick hated most about it.
His throat felt tight. How could Charlie say that like it was a fact? Like it was something he had accepted a long time ago?
“Not everyone hates you, Char.” Nick shook his head, blinking hard so his tear ducts couldn’t get the chance to start working like they wanted to. “They shouldn’t. There’s nothing to hate.”
Charlie went quiet, then let out a breath of laughter, his lips curling into a smirk despite the swelling. “Char?” he echoed, amused.
Nick flushed. He hadn’t meant to say it like that, but it was already out there now.
Luckily, Charlie didn’t seem to mind.
first love only set by a spark
The first time Nick came out, it was to Charlie.
“I’ve been thinking lately.”
“Careful, rugby lad, don’t hurt yourself.”
“Wanker.”
”You know me,” Charlie said, making an obscene gesture with his hand near his crotch that made Nick sputter on his toke.
When Nick was done coughing, Charlie was still not done giggling. Nick glared at him, but he was really hard to stay mad at.
“I’m actually trying to tell you something here,” Nick pouted.
“Sorry, sorry. Just pass and let me listen,” Charlie said, still smiling.
Nick passed the joint. He wasn’t sure why he wanted to tell Charlie first. They didn’t even know each other that well, still hesitant to label their relationship as anything more than acquaintances. And yet, he wanted Charlie to be the first one to hear him say it out loud. Maybe because, despite the sharp walls he’d carved for himself, Charlie made Nick feel like he could say anything.
He took a deep breath. “I think I might be bisexual.”
Charlie’s grin didn’t disappear, but it flickered – like a candle catching a draught.
Then, too quickly, he shrugged. “Cool.”
Nick frowned. He hadn’t been expecting a pride parade or anything but… That’s it?
Charlie must’ve seen his expression, because he sighed. “You waiting for a gold star, Nelson?”
Nick furrowed his brow. “N-No I… I thought you’d have more to say, that’s all.”
Charlie shrugged again, but there was a tension in his shoulders that hadn’t been there before. “What did you want me to say?”
Nick searched his face, feeling like he was missing something important.
“Nothing, I guess. You’re just acting weird.”
“I’m always weird.” Charlie took a drag, blowing it in Nick’s direction.
He was deflecting, it was clear. But Nick didn’t press him about it.
Charlie hummed, staring into space, clearly thinking hard about something. He eventually settled on saying, “Does this mean we’re the type of friends who talk about hot guys together?”
Friends…
Friends!
Nick felt himself beam, turning towards his friend. His friend! Charlie looked nervous, as if Nick was going to correct him.
“Bold of you to assume we have the same type, Spring.”
there was no way of changing my mind
The first time Nick made a real friend, it was Charlie.
Nick had mates before, sure. The lads he sat with at lunch, the select few rugby teammates he actually enjoyed, lab partners, study buddies, and the like. But it wasn’t the same. It was never like this.
Charlie got him in a way nobody else did. He didn’t just listen, he understood, as if he already knew what Nick was going to say before he said it.
And, god, Charlie was cool.
Effortlessly so. Not in the try-hard, performative kind of way, but in the way that persisted when nobody was looking. He smoked like he had all the time in the world, he talked like he’d already figured out the answer to a question Nick hadn’t even thought to ask yet, and he carried himself like he had nothing to hide. And Nick supposed he didn’t, really; everyone already knew his secrets.
Nick liked Charlie so much it hurt.
He didn’t know what to do with it. He was just happy to have this, to have Charlie, to have someone who felt real.
now i'm under your spell, trapped in a lie
The first time Charlie made a real friend, it wasn’t Nick.
Nick didn’t know why it bothered him so much. It wasn’t like he owned Charlie or anything. It wasn’t like Charlie had promised to only be his friend. But when he started hanging around Tao and Isaac more, something ugly in Nick twisted.
Tao, with his sharp tongue and annoyingly sophisticated film opinions. Isaac, always behind his books but somehow knowing everything. They were both the kind of people Nick wished he had the guts to be. The kind who didn’t care what anyone thought, who didn’t need to fit in because they’d already decided they were enough on their own. They fought for Charlie, and Charlie fought for them right back.
Nick told himself it was fine. Of course it was fine.
Charlie had every right to hang out with whoever he wanted. He had every right to laugh with Tao about something Nick didn’t understand, to lean into Isaac’s side when they sat together, to make new memories with people who weren’t scared, stupid, closeted rugby lads.
Nick told himself it didn’t matter. That he liked being the golden boy. That he liked keeping his head down, playing the part of the person everyone expected him to be.
But Charlie started skipping school more, ditching their daily hang-outs to explore abandoned buildings or do whatever cool people did with their cool people friends.
Nick told himself that Charlie deserved them. They were probably more fun to talk to anyway. It was fine.
It was totally fine.
shouldn't have stood that close to the fire
The first time Nick came out to the rugby team, it was with Charlie.
Charlie actually showed up to school that day, which he so rarely did, and Nick had been looking forward to the moment when he could linger in Charlie’s orbit for a little while until he went back to his real friends. Charlie had said something funny and Nick was laughing, but abruptly stopped once he heard footsteps approaching. Nobody would usually cross their path, and Nick just hoped it wasn’t someone terrible.
“What are you doing here, Nelson?” Harry Greene sneered, stepping into view with that ever-present smugness, like the world existed purely for his entertainment. His eyes narrowed in on Charlie, as if he was something disgusting clinging to Nick’s side. “Hanging around this nobody ?”
Nick barely had a second to react before Charlie’s entire body tensed beside him, his cigarette burning between tight fingers, jaw locked so hard it could crack.
Nick had seen Charlie pissed-off before. He’d seen him bruised and bloodied and spitting venom at the people who tried to push him around. But this was something else, and Nick felt the exact same – like they were loaded guns waiting to fire.
“Fuck off, Harry,” Charlie said, voice flat, unbothered despite the clear tension in his body.
Harry grinned, like he was waiting for this exact reaction. “Relax, mate, I’m just saying,” he drawled, stepping closer, eyes flicking back to Nick. “Didn’t think you were the type to hang with-”
“Shut up,” Nick snapped, surprising even himself. His blood was roaring, a sudden heat rising in his chest, and before he knew it, he was stepping in front of Charlie, glaring at Harry.
Harry’s brows shot up. “Jesus, Nelson, what’s got you so worked up? You getting a soft spot for the little fag or something?”
Nick felt his hands curl into fists. His mouth worked faster than his brain, and the loaded gun finally fired.
“Yeah, Harry,” he spat, voice loud, certain. “I am.”
The words hung in the air, the echo of a gunshot.
Harry blinked, stunned for a fraction of a second, before his lips twisted into something cruel. “You’re taking the piss. Are you gay too, then?”
Nick’s heart pounded, but he didn’t back down. Didn’t look away. “I’m bi, actually.”
Something in Harry’s face shifted, thrilled by this new development, but for all the wrong reasons. He hummed, trying to hold in a laugh, with his eyes bouncing in between Nick and Charlie.
“Good to know,” is all he said before turning on his heel and leaving, with a suffocating silence in his wake.
Nick let out a shaky breath, staring after him, mind racing. He’d just- he’d said it. No taking it back. No shoving it down. It was out there now, barrelling towards the team faster than he could stop it.
Charlie took one last drag of his cigarette and flicked it to the ground.
“You probably shouldn’t hang out with me before practice anymore,” he muttered, voice unreadable. “What if they suppose you like me or something?”
Nick turned to him then, all adrenaline and honesty, and before he could think better of it, the words tumbled out.
“And what if I do?”
no turning back
Before this, Nick thought it was impossible to surprise Charlie Spring. Anything he said, Charlie had a quip ready. Any joke he made, Charlie beat him to the punchline. Any playful taunt he hurled at him, Charlie met with an ever better comeback. But this… this was different.
Charlie reacted as if all the air was punched out of him, a sensation he was probably all too familiar with.
“You… huh?” Charlie stuttered, barely having enough breath to push the words out.
Nick’s heart was hammering, the fragile, stupid, misguided thing trying to crack his very ribs. He looked at Charlie, who was in a strange limbo, as if he was deciding whether to punch back or run away.
For a second, Nick thought he ruined everything. That Charlie was going to laugh it off, call him an idiot, pretend he hadn’t heard.
But he didn’t.
Instead, he took a step closer.
Charlie licked his cracked lips, hands twitching at his sides. Nick couldn’t stop staring at his mouth.
The tension stretched thin, as both of them were silent, apart from the ragged inhales that filled the space between them.
And then Charlie grabbed him.
Fisted his hoodie with both hands and yanked him in like he was done hesitating, done pretending, done playing whatever game they’d been playing.
The first time they kissed, it was anything but soft.
It was teeth and heat and immediate tongue, hands gripping fabric, Charlie turning them around and pressing Nick’s back into the brick.
Nick had never been kissed like this, like he was getting devoured and set on fire all at once. He melted into it, letting Charlie take all the control, giving him everything, because he’d always had it. From the very beginning, Nick was owned by this boy. From the inside and now, finally, the outside.
Charlie used his knee to spread Nick’s legs, pressing his thigh against Nick’s growing erection. Nick moaned into the kiss, letting Charlie swallow the noise and take it all from him. All of his strangled groans and whimpers as he rutted against Charlie’s leg. He felt pathetic, felt helpless, felt dirty. Like a wild animal, starving for something only Charlie could provide.
Charlie let his tongue explore Nick’s mouth, drinking him in and swapping saliva just how Nick wanted. He was greedy for it, Charlie’s spit, Charlie’s tongue, his rough hands pulling on clothes and hair.
He wanted more and he wanted less, more contact and less fabric, more tongue and less lips, more heat and less of all these confusing feelings.
Their first kiss meant something very different for Nick than it did for Charlie.
Didn’t it?
nowhere to run
Nick doesn’t know the exact moment it became too late to stop. Maybe it was when Charlie kissed him. Maybe it was when Charlie pulled him into the shadows between classes, hands on his hips, breath hot against his skin.
The first time they had sex, it was rushed, hurried, and the most erotic thing Nick had ever experienced.
Sucking dick in a bathroom stall wasn’t something restricted to clubs, Nick discovered. Not a very elegant place to give your first ever blowjob, with your uniformed knees getting dirty on the loo floor and the potential for anybody else to walk in — to hear Charlie’s grunts and groans of pleasure as Nick took him deep, deep, deeper, going as deep as he could go before he gagged around Charlie’s cock. He didn’t care, he liked the way his eyes would sting with unshed tears and his throat would burn, squeezing around nothing.
Charlie wasn’t pushing him to do these things, he was just that desperate for it.
“Such a good boy, aren’t you?” Charlie asked lowly.
Nick moaned far too loud, bobbing his head faster up and down Charlie’s shaft.
Charlie started to pull his hair, fisting his hands in Nick’s auburn locks, and that’s when he almost fully lost it, meeting his lips around Charlie’s cock with one hand and palming himself frantically with the other. There was too much fabric, but the friction still made Nick whimper.
“I can’t believe you’re getting off by having your mouth full. Who knew the rugby king was such a pathetic little cocksucker? But you’re so good at it, aren’t you? Would be a shame for this mouth not to be filled by a dick.”
Nick whined, a strange mix of desire and humiliation coursing through his veins, Charlie’s words had a visceral effect on him, and he wanted to do more to bring more pretty praise and ugly degradation from Charlie’s lips. He didn’t know why he wanted it, but he felt so small. And so, so wrecked.
“Want you on your knees for me every day like you fucking deserve. Don’t want anybody else to have you like this, you understand me? You’re mine, only mine. Fuck, baby, you’re so perfect. No matter how good you are at sucking cock, your pretty mouth belongs to me. And don’t worry, I’ll take good care of it. Make sure it gets put to use as much as possible.”
Nick’s eyes rolled back into his head and allowed Charlie to start thrusting into his mouth, relaxing his jaw and sucking as much as he could, even running his tongue along the delicious vein on the underside of Charlie’s cock.
“Going to fill you up very soon, sweet boy. Gonna empty my load down your throat so your stomach is sloshing with my cum. You can go back to class knowing that I’m still inside you, is that okay?”
Nick moaned in assent, relaxing even further and making sure to breathe out of his nose. His jaw was so sore and it ached so good. Charlie was being so gentle, while still going so fast and deep, giving Nick exactly what he needed without hurting him.
Charlie’s balls tightened, and he finally, finally came. Nick could feel the thick, creamy spurts of Charlie’s release coat the back of his throat, so far back that he barely tasted the salty cum, almost missing it. He wanted more, wanted to taste more, wanted everything Charlie was willing to give him.
Charlie finished Nick off too, with a sloppy handjob that Nick could barely stay standing during, whimpering and moaning against Charlie’s neck, as he let go completely.
Charlie always finishes Nick off too.
It continued just like that. Almost every day, every other period, Nick’s peers must’ve thought he had something seriously wrong with him.
And maybe he does.
nowhere to hide
The first time Nick falls in love, it’s with Charlie.
And he knows, without a doubt, it’s also going to be the last.
it's too late to say goodbye