Archive of Our Own

“Nick! Have you been waiting long?”

Recognising this voice immediately, Nick raises his eyes from where he was scrolling on his phone to greet his best friend but his ‘No, don’t worry’ dies on his lips the moment his eyes land on the other man. 

Well, fuck. 

Charlie’s wearing a rather tight, maroon shirt that hugs his lean frame in all the right places; the first few buttons are open, revealing a rather tempting view on his collarbone. His index finger has such a casual hold on his leather jacket thrown over one shoulder that it looks so effortlessly cool, Nick’s mouth goes dry. He briefly has the mind to wonder about Charlie’s unusual lack of proper clothing for the cold British winter but every thought gets lost the moment he’s fully able to take in the worst - and simultaneously absolute best - part about his friend’s outfit: he’s wearing eyeliner. It’s just a hint of it but Nick has never seen him like this and it highlights his blue eyes so beautifully and somehow even accentuates his chiselled cheekbones and fucking hell, Nick’s brain goes offline.

“Nick? You’re staring,” Nick hears his friend chuckle and feels his cheeks heat up instantly but he still can’t tear away his eyes. They had been working together earlier today and had only bid each other goodbye an hour ago to freshen up and meet again at the pub but wow, if Charlie had been his usual handsome and beautiful during their shared shift, he was now absolutely glowing, gorgeous and fucking hot.

“Is everything okay? Did I render you speechless?” 

There’s that confusing teasing lilt to Charlie’s voice that Nick’s so familiar with by now and even through his daze, he’s pretty sure that Charlie’s flirting. Oh. 

He feels himself nod and blushes even more. With all his willpower, he manages to avert his gaze but it has a mind of its own and lands - once again - on Charlie’s collarbone and fuck, is there a hint of dark wiry hairs peeking out? He lets his gaze snap up again - only to land on those plump lips that Nick wants to kiss so badly and are currently pulled into a knowing smirk.

Tonight must be the night, Nick thinks. He needs to finally confess his feelings, needs to know if there will ever be a chance of feeling Charlie’s lips pressed against his. He’s aware that he needs words for that to happen so he shakes his head and clears his throat in a feeble attempt of regaining his composure.

“You look good,” Nick says and it’s the understatement of the year but he needs the horny side of his brain to keep in check so he won’t jump his friend - friend for fuck’s sake -  in the middle of the streets outside of the pub. He can’t just confess the depth of his feelings right before he’s finally about to meet Charlie’s friends for the first time.

“Thank you,” Charlie replies, his smile turning soft before he drags his gaze along Nick’s whole body and raises an appreciating eyebrow so high it disappears under his curls. “You don’t look bad yourself,” he states, leaning closer into Nick’s space to whisper his next words directly into Nick’s ear, “I’d even say you’re fucking hot,” in a voice that is so low, Nick’s stands no chance in suppressing a shiver that travels directly to his groin. What’s going on tonight? Since when is Charlie such an obvious flirt with him? Nick has had his fair share of weak moments where he had let himself hope for more, for Charlie to like him back, but it usually got smouldered by Charlie backtracking and joking about it and it constantly sends Nick’s mind reeling with the uncertainty of what Charlie could actually mean.

Suddenly, he finds himself inside the pub, sitting in a booth and engaged in a conversation with Elle about art and how you don’t always need to understand it to enjoy it. He has no idea how he ended up being there, how he went from standing outside in the cold with a flirting Charlie to sitting vis-à-vis Charlie’s oldest friends. He doesn’t find it in him to care though because he feels warm and comfy and his head is pleasantly fuzzy, so he just chalks it up to having already had a few too many drinks. And anyway, Elle’s calming voice lulls him back in until he registers Tao scrolling on his phone next to her. When did Charlie leave and where did he go?

With Elle still talking, Nick lets his eyes wander in search of his friend until he finds him standing near the bar, smiling at a stranger who leans way too close into Charlie’s space for Nick’s liking. Oh. He feels hot flames of jealousy lick on his insides and tries to cool it by taking another sip of his drink but alcohol meeting fire is never a good idea and the mixture ignites an inevitable inferno when he sees the other man’s lips brush against Charlie’s cheek. He has to look away to stop himself from doing something stupid and completely out of line because Charlie’s not his boyfriend and he surely doesn’t have to wait until Nick finally gets his shit together and finally confesses his undying love to him. If he’s even feeling the same as Nick, that is.

“Hey, I’m back, sorry to keep you waiting,” Nick hears Charlie say to the trio sitting at the table not a beat later and he wonders how that's even possible. Did Charlie just teleport himself back? 

“Who was that?” Tao asks as Charlie slides into the booth next to Nick and Nick’s very happy that it isn’t him who poses the question as his own version would most certainly include a pathetic little ‘why wasn’t it me’ and ‘how the fuck dare he kiss you’.

“Nobody, just someone trying to hit on me. But I’m not interested, he’s not my type at all,” Charlie replies and he sounds so unperturbed, Nick briefly wonders if that’s something that’s happening a lot to Charlie. But didn’t he just tell him a few days ago that he’d actually like more people to hit on him? If only Nick would’ve been brave enough to hit on Charlie right then and there in the safety of his own living room. He sighs wistfully before his mind catches up with what Charlie’s just had said. Not his type? The other guy had been tall and muscly and dark blonde, therefore pretty much a carbon copy of Nick’s own features. Something shatters in Nick’s chest as he realises that he’s not Charlie’s type. Unaware of Nick’s inner turmoil, Charlie leans closer, his body rubbing against Nick’s in such a delicate way that Nick quickly forgets all his other thoughts and then, then, he feels Charlie whisper, “He didn’t have your eyes and your freckles and your butt,” in his ear, feeling hot air brush over his neck and he turns to face Charlie; wide amber eyes finding darkened blue ones. His mind is so blissfully occupied with the sight, he’s leaning down at the same time Charlie’s lifting his head and everything in Nick burns in anticipation as he just knows they’re about to kiss. But then there’s Elle suddenly banging on the table in excitement, yelling something about the song playing being her favourite and the moment’s gone. 

The next thing he feels is cold air gently cradling his heated cheeks as they step out the pub’s door and he wonders how and when they made it outside. Did his mind go so completely offline after Charlie’s flirting and their attempt to kiss that he simply forgot about the rest of the night? Just how drunk is he? What is going on tonight?

“Bye Elle, bye Tao!” Charlie yells over his shoulder, chuckling, as they part from his friends. He turns back towards Nick with a smile that’s suddenly way more tender than it had been a few seconds ago and hooks his arm around Nick’s as they start making their way towards their respective apartments. The familiarity of the gesture and the warmth that spreads through Nick’s whole body, despite the layers of clothing separating them, calms the edgy feeling in his chest. He pulls Charlie closer, causing their drunken selves to stumble and giggle way louder than the situation would warrant but Nick’s suddenly so happy, he needs it to break free from his chest. He doesn’t want the night to end, he feels that there’s something in the air tonight, something that’s usually tempered down by uncertainty and he needs to -

“This was fun tonight, thank you for coming,” Charlie says, his voice low as he looks up at Nick seductively through his lashes, causing the taller man’s breath to hitch and lose his drunken train of thoughts. He only barely refrains from leaning down to kiss that beautiful smile off his best friend’s lips and clears his throat instead.

“Thank you for inviting me, I’m so happy I finally met your friends,” Nick replies eagerly before a low chuckle escapes his lips, “Well, I guess, mostly Elle, not so sure about Tao yet.”

“Tao will come to like you, I’m sure! He’s always been like this and university hasn’t changed him so far,” Charlie says with a soft smile on his lips. “But, I mean, he’ll have to come around at one point as I plan to keep you in my life forever!”

Forever. This silly little word lifts Nick’s world from its axis and his heart starts pounding against his ribcage. Is now the moment to tell Charlie just how much he wants to keep him in his life too, preferably as his boyfriend and husband and dad to their animals and kids and happily ever after? He inhales deeply, trying to gather his courage for the umteenth time this evening but words get stuck in his throat and his mind’s empty for too long - and Charlie keeps talking, unaware of Nick’s wishful thinking.

“He’s always wary of new people when he doesn’t know them and doesn’t know their intentions, you know,” he says, a shy sideways smile on his lips as he glances up at Nick.

My intentions are to love you forever and stay in your life for as long as you’ll have me, you gorgeous man is Nick’s initial reaction but it doesn’t leave his mind. He chickens out. Again.  

Instead, he settles on, “Only the purest, of course!” with a playful lilt to his voice.

“Idiot,” Charlie laughs, squeezing Nick’s arm, “Of course you do, we’re work husbands and best friends after all!”

Right, there it is again, the dual sting and soothing to Nick’s heart whenever he gets friendzoned and teasingly called ‘husband’ in the same breath. Charlie doesn't lie, though, and maybe that's what makes it especially hard to look for potential possibilities in all the interwoven layers and ways they’ve become important to one another in the short time they've known each other. He really should tell Charlie how he feels so he can finally know if Charlie feels the same but it’s hard when one confession could change it all, for better or worse, and he’s just so afraid of losing the best thing that ever happened to him. He inhales deeply to gather his courage but deflates a second later. He’s not ready to confess just yet.

So he just squeezes back gently before he simply confirms, “The bestest of friends of course.”

They smile at each other as they’re nearing the blue bridge that brings them closer to home. Nick’s in the middle of another attempt to gather his courage when Charlie suddenly exclaims, “Oh look, there are our flags again!” with a level of excitement only drunken people can muster.

Nick laughs because Charlie loves to point to the wall just at the beginning of the bridge where every brick is coloured in different flags of the queer world; it’s by now a cherished stop on their way home.

His best friend stops in front of the pink, purple and blue flag and smiles at Nick adoringly before he whispers, “This is yours.”

“I know, Char, and this is yours,” Nick says with a soft smile, like he always does, pointing towards the gay man pride flag before he tugs on Charlie’s arm to keep them going.

Maybe that’s his cue now? After stating they’re both into men? His mind feels dizzy and dazed all of a sudden so he inhales deeply, the cool air of a late night in spring doing little to calm him for his next words.

He's doing it.

“Char, I know we’ve only known each other for a few months but working with you and getting to know you has been the highlight of my year and I wanted to tell you that I’m so in lo- ”

“Nick, look what I can do!”

Nick tries to turn his head towards his best friend but his motions are suddenly impossibly slow and it’s almost as if he’s watching the scene unfold from above. 

Too woozy, his mind takes too long to make sense of what his eyes are observing. Why is Charlie balancing on the bridge’s narrow railing? When did he get up there? Didn’t Nick feel his warmth and touch from walking next to each other just a second ago? Wasn’t he in the middle of confessing his feelings to him? What the fuck is happening? Is he drunker than he thought?

He had just as many drinks as you, this is dangerous, do something! his brain finally urges and he reaches out in an attempt to pull Charlie back down into safety but his arm is too heavy and he feels weirdly sluggish and completely out of control of his body. He feels like floating and rooted to the ground at the same time and all he can do is stare while dread starts to gnaw its way into his chest.

“Charlie, no, come back down,” he tries to yell instead but it’s slurred even to his own ears. Charlie just giggles and evades his meagre attempt to grab his torso in an exaggerated bow. He flails his arms and screeches in delight before the realisation of what’s about to happen flashes over his features. 

“Nick, help!” Charlie’s cry reaches Nick’s ears before he really has a chance to understand what’s going on.

Way too fast and impossibly slow at the same time, Nick sees his best friend losing his footing and at first, his body tilts towards Nick and he’s so relieved but then Charlie keeps stumbling and bending backwards and fuck no, that can’t be, the bridge is too high and the water’s too cold and Charlie isn’t that good of a swimmer, especially not when drunk. And dear god please no, Charlie can’t die on him, Nick has been dreaming of a whole life with a house and dogs and children and growing impossibly old together. He’s faintly aware of how selfish this line of thinking is but he can’t stop, he just can’t. I was too late dances inside his mind like those nauseating tea-cups swirling maniacal on a merry-go-round.

“Nick!” Charlie screams and the shrill sound pulls him back and makes Nick’s ear ring in pain and he knows he’ll never be able to forget that one last clear syllable leaving the love of his life’s lungs.

He tries to scream Charlie’s name but it comes out so quietly, it’s only true to his own ears. His vocal cords are rendered completely powerless no matter how hard he tries and are drowned out by his lungs that are constricting rather than widening. He needs to get closer, just closer, needs to reach Charlie in time, needs to keep him from falling but he just can’t. Every movement feels like running in deep water and is syrupy and uncoordinated as he has absolutely forgotten how to work his limbs. Nick can only gape at his best friend as if he’s just watching this whole scenario as an indifferent bystander while he sees horror dawn on Charlie’s beautiful face. Nick feels tears pricking his eyes from frustration at his inability to fucking move and save Charlie and then panic takes over and he can’t breathe anymore and his heart is beating so fast it hurts in his bones. Horror settles in his chest, squeezing his insides and preventing him from inhaling desperately needed air to get his lungs functioning again.

Why can’t he move, why the fuck can’t he move, what is happening, he can’t lose Charlie, not now, not when they’d only just met and he’s so in love with him and he needs -

He watches despair and sorrow flash in Charlie’s dark blue eyes widened in shock, his mouth open in a silent cry as he slowly gets swallowed by fog wafting around him and for the briefest of moments, Nick is distracted by his beauty; by how his gorgeous features are highlighted from the soft glow of a nearby lamppost and how his black curls form a bridge to the endless darkness devouring him. He sees delicate pale hands reaching out for him in a desperate last attempt and Nick wants to catch him, he tries so hard to lurch his whole body forwards, but it doesn’t obey and the distance is too big and he’s too slow, he can’t bring his feet to fucking move in time. His heart beats impossibly fast as his last scream dies on his lips when he sees Charlie disappear completely into the void - and then he’s gone and it’s so eerie quiet it’s deafening. 

He hears sobs and knows it must be his own but it sounds weird, strangled and strained. He can’t stop though, even if it takes up all his strength.

It’s his own fault, he’s been too slow, he hasn’t been able to reach Charlie in time, he’s been too late and now he’s dead and he’s guilty of letting him die. He’ll never know if Charlie might’ve loved him back; he has waited too long. 

Charlie died without knowing just how loved he was.

His chest heaves heavily as he tries to fill it with air but it’s in vain and he feels dizzy and is on the verge to pass out when suddenly, as if finally released from the strangest hold, motions come back and he surges forward, trying to reach his friend despite knowing there’s no chance to get his Charlie back. He thinks about jumping after Charlie, knows that it would most certainly kill himself too but he needs to try his everything so he tests his lungs once more with one final scream of Charlie’s name when suddenly it all fades from dark to bright. 

He’s pulled away brutally and still feels his own cry in his chest and it’s all so disorientating, his mind’s completely reeling. He sits up with a jolt and a heart beating so fast, he can’t focus on anything else. His breathing is shallow and rapidly, there’s an irritatingly crawly sensation in his legs and the panic has his chest in such a tight grip, his body’s covered in clammy sweat. 

Charlie.

Still completely filled with fear, Nick’s eyes flicker relentlessly over every single thing around him in desperate need to find an anchor to what’s real. He slowly understands that he’s not standing on a bridge, he’s sitting on something soft. He feels the familiar fabric of his bedding that he’s clutching so tightly in his fists. It's broad daylight and the sun’s shining into his room with an angle that indicates afternoon but right now, it feels more like time’s melting. 

But there’s no fog and no lamppost and no Charlie, just him alone in his bedroom. There were no drinks and no flirting and no late night out and no walking home and confessing his feelings and - fucking thankfully - no Charlie stupidly falling off a bridge.

With a sigh so deep he feels its reference in his bones, Nick slowly comes back into his body, feels his breathing become less ragged, feels his heart-rate returning to normal, feels the pain in his chest lessen and the ache that consumed him so wholly subsiding. He realises that it’s all been a dream but it’s been so vivid, he can’t shake off the leaden dread of having lost Charlie and in his haze, he scrambles for his phone to see if Charlie really actually still exists, needs to have proof that he’s still alive. 

His instinct is to call him, to be soothed by his voice, even though he can already picture Charlie taking the piss out of him for dreaming such a fucked up scenario because he simply doesn’t know, doesn’t know that losing Charlie would be the worst thing that could ever happen to Nick. He doesn’t know how much he means to him, doesn’t know how much Nick loves him in a romantic way and not just a friend way. Unlocking the screen of his phone, Nick finds a new text from Charlie moaning about his boring shift at the café they both work at, sent not even 10 minutes ago and the relief flooding through Nick is so strong, he can’t stop a tear from rolling down his face. It had felt way too real; the fear of losing Charlie, of being unable to save him, of having missed his chance of knowing what Charlie’s feelings towards Nick were so all consuming. Nick realises he can’t wait any longer, he needs Charlie to know, needs to know if the feelings are mutual, needs to know if they have a chance of a future together, a future as boyfriends. And if they do, he doesn’t want to waste another single second not kissing and touching and loving Charlie, he can’t risk being too late again.

He turns to sit on the edge of his bed, his feet buried deep into the rug in an attempt to ground him as his heart starts to beat faster again but the memory of watching Charlie disappear so brutally from his life is still far too vivid to give his mind any form of peace. He needs to see Charlie, needs to feel him under his fingertips, needs to wrap him into the tightest hug possible to get rid of the feeling of losing him.

Before he can spiral into the next panic attack, Nick closes his eyes and focuses on Charlie, focuses on his last text that very much proves that it all had been a product of his cruel imagination. He tries to calm his breathing and the tightness in his chest by naming five things he sees in front of his inner eye whenever he thinks of his best friend: his dark curls, framing his face so softly with the one unruly ringlet that keeps bothering Charlie to the point where he annoyedly blows it out of his face with an adorable sideways pout; his brows, emphasising every emotion crossing his face so expressively; his blue eyes; sparkling so wonderfully whenever he teases Nick; his plump lips, looking so temptingly kissable that Nick finds his own gaze travel there more often than he dares to admit; his tall, slender frame, curling so perfectly into Nick’s body whenever he wraps him in his arms.

Feeling how his heart slowly stops drumming so violently against his ribcage, Nick focuses on four things he knows how they feel: Charlie’s shoulder blades, moving so flawlessly under Nick’s palms when he tightens his grip around Nick’s waist in their hug after a shared shift; his hands that are so soft to Nick’s touch whenever he finds a reason to exchange stuff at work; his warmth, spreading through Nick’s whole body whenever they stand maybe a tad too close to each other while serving customers; his luscious curls, tickling Nick’s nose when he nuzzles close to hide in Nick’s shoulder with laughter.

Nick’s mind starts to calm when he thinks about his three favourite sounds his best friend makes: his bright giggle, lighting up Nick’s mood no matter what’s going on in his life; his reassuring words, spoken so softly when Nick has had a bad day; his absently minded humming of songs yet unknown to Nick’s ears but oh-so-soothing to Nick’s racing mind.

He closes his eyes when he remembers Charlie’s smell; a blend of sweetness and coffee while working together and so much more Charlie when they meet up to study - or do pretty much whatever together; how the familiarity of washing detergent, lavender, vanilla and coconut encompass every fibre of Nick’s being whenever Charlie leans closer to tell Nick something.

Nick wonders what Charlie would taste like if they were to kiss.

If there’s ever a chance for him to be with Charlie like that, he needs to know, now. So he gets up and heads for the bathroom to wash away the remnants of fearful memories from his dream under the hot stream of water. When he comes back to his room, he remembers dream-Charlie’s flirting and changes into clothes he suspects Charlie likes seeing on him - based on lingering glances on certain body parts - and heads out the door less than five minutes later. He can’t waste any more time, his heart can’t take it.

🍂💛💙🍂

Nick’s been so deep in thoughts about the dream and how he wants Charlie to know about his feelings, he has no idea how he managed to go from where he lives to where he works. He thanks his muscle memory for finding his way when he comes to a stop in front of the café where Nick knows Charlie has one hour left until his shift ends. 

Fairy lights from the inside illuminate his whole body with twilight settling around him, making him visible in the window. He sees his still damp dark blonde hair hanging low into his forehead in the reflection, sees his eyes still wide-open from what had happened not an hour ago, sees his still slouched posture from having had the nap from hell; sees an overall haunted expression staring back at him and he straightens up, not wanting his friend to see him like that. He lifts his gaze to search for Charlie behind the counter and is immediately met with dark-blue eyes intently staring at him, a questioning eyebrow raised high. Nick watches a blush form on his cheeks as his own eyes dart between his reflection and the man inside.

Is he really going to do this?

He inhales deeply, letting the crisp air and promising smell of spring comfort him before he turns towards the entrance and steps into the almost empty café, focussing entirely on the worn-out wooden floor. He feels eyes resting on him and knows, without looking up, to whom they belong to but he doesn’t dare lift his gaze on his way to the counter - to Charlie - in fear of realising that he had mistaken the man inside the café for someone else; that this isn’t his Charlie after all. Only when he almost bumps into the furnishing that separates him from the other person, he dares to look up. 

It is Charlie. Maybe a slightly confused version of him but there is no doubt left in Nick’s mind that Charlie isn’t alive and relief flashes through him with such force, his knees start to wobble and he feels his eyes fill with tears as his breath catches in his throat. He tries to smile through it all but is absolutely positive that he must look like a total creep and won’t fool Charlie. As predicted, his friend sees right through him and asks, “Nick, are you okay?” with so much concern lilting his voice that it seeps through his whole demeanour.

When Nick doesn’t reply right away and just keeps staring, he continues with increasing uncertainty, “Nick, why are you looking at me like that? I thought we were meeting after my shift. I mean, I’m not complaining but… What happened, why are you here? You look like you’ve seen a ghost!”

Nick nods and then shakes his head while he shrugs. What is he about to say anyway? He’s not ready to confess his love right then and there with a quiet audience around them.

“I-,” Nick starts to say but trails off as another urge wins over social decorum and he changes the trajectory of their conversation by whispering, “Can I hug you? I need to feel you’re real.”

Puzzled, Charlie huffs out a laugh but nods anyway, already on his way rounding the counter.

Holding out his arms for Nick to fall into, Nick doesn’t hesitate a second and curls into his best friend who’s alive and well and healthy and chuckling fondly - if maybe still a little surprised - against his chest. Nick holds him close, feels his familiar shape under his palms and buries his head into the junction where his neck meets his shoulder and he inhales deeply, letting the well-known scent that is Charlie soothe him even more. He pinches his own forearm quickly behind Charlie’s back - because he just needs to rule out any last doubt. Feeling the sharp pain, he sighs satisfiedly and lets himself be held by the person he’s been in love with for so long.

“Nick,” Charlie murmurs against the skin of Nick’s neck and his breath tickles him. Charlie doesn’t pull back though, he still holds Nick close, gentle fingers drawing soothing patterns into broad shoulders, along a defined spine down to a soft waist and back up again. So instead of explaining, Nick buries himself even deeper, his lips grazing along a delicate neck when he turns his head in doing so and he can’t stop himself from pressing a soft kiss into his best friend’s warm skin. He feels Charlie shiver and then stiffen and freezes himself because how the fuck dare he, what’s wrong with him. But then he feels Charlie exhale softly and all but melting against Nick and he almost lets out an embarrassing sob in relief.

“Nick,” Charlie tries again after a few seconds, more urgent now but still muffled by Nick’s skin, “Did something happen to you? Why do you need to feel that I’m real?”

“Bad dream,” Nick mumbles, turning his head as little as necessary to be able to speak, “Very bad dream. I needed to see you and-,” Nick stops himself, trying to find the right words. He inhales deeply to brace himself for what he wants, needs to say, “I need to talk about something with you. I know we agreed upon meeting tonight but it’s still so long until then. I’m so sorry for ambushing you like this, but I couldn’t wait any longer. I thought that-,” Nick trails off, he didn’t really think of where he was going to tell Charlie. He clears his throat to gain time, “I thought that I could maybe walk you home or something, if that’s okay?”

Charlie pulls back enough to look at him, curious eyes flickering over Nick’s features in search of further explanation and what he finds must confuse him even more because his gaze turns wary. But he doesn’t let go of Nick, doesn’t loosen the grip he has around Nick’s waist and Nick tries to not read all too much into it in order to keep his nerves at bay.

“This sounds… serious,” Charlie says, biting his lips in what Nick knows is his nervously uncertain manner.

“It is,” Nick confirms through a smile, “But also maybe not? I hope it’s a good serious and not a bad serious, at least.”

“Nick!” Charlie snorts, “What a way to heighten my anxiety for the last remaining -,” he glances over Nick’s right shoulder at the huge clock hanging on the wall behind the coffee machine, “45 minutes of my shift.”

“You don’t have to be anxious, Char. The only one who could be nervous - and hell yes I am - is me. I’ve wanted to talk about it with you for quite some time now but I’ve always chickened out. But then I fell asleep this afternoon while I was studying - and you know how badly I handle naps during the day but this was really something else, bloody hell. I had such a bad nightmare about you,” Nick stops when he hears his voice turn shaky to clear his throat, “I decided I can’t wait any longer and well yeah, here I am.”

Charlie’s about to say something but is interrupted by an impatiently uttered, “Sir, are you working?”

“Shit, I forgot about where we are for a sec,” Charlie mumbles under his breath before he turns in their embrace towards the few people waiting in line to answer with a loud, “Yes, I’m coming, I’m sorry!”

He turns back to Nick, one hand coming up to poke Nick’s chest with a slender finger, “And you, sir, stay here where I can see you. I need to know what this is all about.” Nick nods, a smile tugging on his lips despite his nervousness.

Reluctantly, they both let go but Charlie’s eyes don’t leave Nick’s on his whole way back behind the counter, only dragging it away at the very last second to focus on the customers waiting. 

Nick sits down on a free table that is close to the counter, not wanting to violate the promise he gave to Charlie and, almost more importantly, not wanting to let his best friend out of sight so soon again. 

He’s aware that he’s staring, but he can’t help it, his eyes follow every movement Charlie makes on their own volition. His dream still has him in a chokehold, the fear of losing Charlie’ is still so fresh and clenching his heart with an iron hold. He needs to know if he has a chance with him, needs to gather all his courage and confess his feelings before it is too late - because you just never know when time’s running out. If there’s a possibility that Charlie likes him back - and boy, has the memory of the flirting that happened before the dream turned into a nightmare still tingling him all over - he wants to make use of all the time that’s meant for them.

And if Charlie doesn’t feel the same, Nick knows that he has tried, knows that he’d done the best he could and that there won’t be any useless plays of endless what-ifs in his mind. He just hopes that they can still be friends if rejection will be the case - which has always been the reason why he hesitated to confess until now. He promises to himself that he’ll try whatever it takes to get over his crush and still be the best friend to Charlie, if that’s what he wants.

With his eyes still firmly focussed on Charlie’s skilled movements and bright customer-y smile, his mind wanders back to when they met on Nick’s first day at work at this particular campus’ café; how Charlie trained him and how immediately they clicked; how their easy banter turned into something already so familiar within the very first week; how they became best friends who spent almost all of their free time with each other and tried to work as many shifts together as possible. 

Nick fell in love with Charlie’s wit and thoughtfulness, with his humour and resilience, with his care and cleverness and loved him more for every bit he learned about the other man. He had never felt this safe with anyone, this accepted and cared for as he does with Charlie and apart from his intense feelings for him, he doesn’t hide any secrets from him and he has the strong suspicion that it was the same for Charlie.

Sometimes, Nick lets himself indulge in hope, allows himself to dream about being together because of how affectionate and attentive Charlie is with him; of all the little moments they have had and how Charlie’s acted a little bit flirty sometimes - after all, Nick’s dream was based on reality, at least to some extent. He thinks about how Charlie has a smile that’s only ever directed at him and where his adorable dimples grew their deepest; how he always finds a reason to touch and stay connected; how they message constantly or talk on the phone whenever they’re not in each other’s company and how that all maybe means that Charlie likes him back.

“You’re staring,” Nick hears a soft voice say and despite his eyes following every movement Charlie makes, his sudden appearance startles him and he huffs out a surprised laugh that sounds suspiciously like “Duh!”

He takes in the other man, sees his apron gone and his dark green coat hanging on his arm, sees him fiddle with the strap of his rucksack slung over his left shoulder. He glances towards the clock and sees it’s already past 6 and for the first time since he arrived, he looks around the café and realises it’s empty. Did he really just stare at his friend and reminisce about their time together for over 40 minutes? Jesus. He clears his throat.

“Your shift’s over?” Nick states the obvious and blushes immediately.

“Duh,” Charlie replies with a smile that’s bordering on teasing and helps Nick’s blush grow even more intense in return.

“Ready to leave?” Charlie asks as Nick doesn’t seem to be able to find his words right away and Nick nods, feeling suddenly suffocated in the stale, coffee-laden air of the café and craving fresh air to kick his brain into gear again.

They leave the café in silence but because it’s Charlie, Nick doesn’t find it awkward at all and he’s glad he has another few minutes to gather the last bit of needed courage.

He hears Charlie pull the door closed behind him as they step into beautiful colours of a descending sun painting the sky so wonderfully peaceful. Nick lets that calmness take him over, lets it settle in his chest and suddenly, he knows he’ll be alright, knows that - whatever the next minutes might bring him - he’ll be okay.

Nick turns towards his friend and finds his gaze already resting on him, expectant and nervous and Nick reaches out to briefly squeeze his hand in reassurance, trying to convey with his smile that Charlie doesn’t need to worry. His breath catches in his throat when he sees something akin to hope flash in those gorgeous blue eyes.

As they start to walk, their shoulders brush against each other; both seemingly wanting to be as close as possible for the first few steps, waiting for who would break the silence first.

“You wanted to talk,” Charlie starts, turning his head to look at Nick again and Nick sees so many more questions flicker in his eyes.

This is it.

“Yeah,” he replies softly, “I did. I had a nightmare about you, about us.” Nick feels his chest tighten and stops talking until he feels an arm curl around his elbow, squeezing encouragingly like he did in Nick’s dream. He smiles at Charlie and clears his throat, “Sorry. It’s just- the dream’s been so fucking real! I thought it was real… my heart’s been pounding so hard it hurt when I woke up from it and I just needed to see you immediately, for many reasons.”

“Nick,” Charlie interrupts gently, “What was the dream about?”

“You died.”

Charlie stops in his tracks, pulling Nick along by their joined arms, causing Nick to almost stumble over his feet with the sudden movement.

“I what?” Charlie asks but he doesn’t sound upset, it verges much more on concern on Nick’s behalf.

“Yeah,” Nick says, avoiding his gaze to his shoes and feeling the need to apologise, “I’m sorry for letting you die in my dream.”

He’s pulled into a hug in the middle of the sidewalk so fast and tight, he’s feeling a little dizzy and it takes his brain a moment to catch up and react properly. For a few seconds, they just hold each other, breathing each other in before they move a little to the side to make space for the few other people going about their business on the street.

“How did I die?” Charlie mumbles into Nick’s jeans jacket.

Nick withdraws, just enough to look at his friend, before words start to tumble out of his mouth.

“You- you fell off the bridge and I couldn’t get to you in time, I saw you falling but I couldn’t do anything. You were up there, needing my help, you stumbled because of me but I couldn’t move, I was frozen and couldn’t even yell for help, I could only watch, I couldn’t move, I was too late, I-”

“Nick!” Charlie exclaims, suddenly holding Nick’s cheeks, forcing Nick to look at him, “Nick, calm down,” he continues, his voice growing impossibly soft, “I’m here, it was only a dream. I’m here.” 

Charlie brushes his thumbs over Nick’s heated skin and it feels wet to the touch and with embarrassment, Nick realises that he’s started to cry. His hands come up to rub his eyes dry but Charlie is faster and moves his own to gather the few escaping tears with his fingers. 

“Hey, it’s okay. I know how lingering such dreams can be. Do you know why I even ended up standing on that bridge? It doesn’t really sound like something I’d do,” Charlie chuckles and Nick knows it’s mostly to lighten the mood, to put Nick a little more at ease and god, he's so in love with him.

“We were on our way home from the club where we had met Tao and Elle, it kinda looked like that first time I met them, back when I was still slightly afraid of Tao,” Nick sob-laughs softly, “Even though some other things didn’t really add up to the real events,” he adds, blushing slightly as he remembers Charlie’s extensive flirting. He also remembers how another man was hitting on Charlie, remembers the jealousy but decides to not mention it. He doesn’t want to hear it if he isn’t Charlie’s type. Not yet. 

He clears his throat to be able to continue, “We were talking and I was finally in the middle of confessing my feelings to you when you were suddenly standing on the bridge’s railing, wanting to show off but that’s so dangerous so I wanted to pull you back into safety and you tried to dodge it and stumbled and then you fell. You just- you just fell and suddenly there was this fog around you, swallowing you whole and then it was quiet, so fucking quiet and you were… just gone.” 

Nick feels Charlie stepping back so he stops talking, relieved that Charlie’s hands still keep a hold of Nick’s cheeks - even though the soothing movement stops. He looks at his friend and finds him staring at him with wide eyes and mouth agape.

“You were what?” Charlie whispers into their shared space and Nick tries to think back to what he said until realisation dawns on him. He bites his lips, that wasn’t how he wanted Charlie to know about the reason for this conversation but oh well, all or nothing. He feels his cheeks grow warm but he doesn’t look away.

“I was trying to tell you how much I love you. That I’m in love with you,” Nick says and everything in him is alight with nerves and fluttering electricity; with nervous trepidation and hope.

“Is that something dream-Nick would tell dream-Charlie or is that something real-Nick feels?” Charlie asks, his voice wavering and his gaze so vulnerable and oh, how much Nick loves him and his bravery.

“That’s something real-Nick has wanted real-Charlie to know for such a long time now, I obviously started to dream about it and needed a fucking nightmare as a kickstarter to finally gather enough courage to tell you.”

Nick watches as a series of emotions flicker over Charlie’s face and he holds his breath until he sees Charlie’s lips curl into the brightest smile Nick has ever seen and suddenly, all he finds in his best friend's eyes is love and he could cry from relief. Nick’s racing heart calms instantly and he feels the urge to yell his joy into the settling night; to tell each and every passerby that being brave can be rewarded. But he wants Charlie to know, to really know, to not leave any space for misunderstandings so he inhales deeply, takes his best friend’s hand in his and says with all the adoration he has in him, “Charlie, I love you. I’m so in love with you. For quite some time now actually, but I was so afraid to lose you. But now, after that cruel dream, I was even more afraid to be too late, so I just need you to know. I knew I needed to be brave, even if you don’t feel the same. You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met and so gorgeous, it takes my breath away. I’m yours, if you want me. I’ll be yours for as long as you want to keep me, Charlie Spring.”

“Forever it is, then,” is all that Charlie breathes and the memory of dream-Charlie stating almost the same aches within his chest. Charlie’s words are so soft and full of happiness and promise and contain everything Nick has ever wished for, they’re reverberating through his whole body. Charlie leans up, rising high on his tiptoes until he’s so close and Nick feels his next words more than he hears them. 

“Can I kiss -,” Charlie asks and giggles as the last vowels are nothing but a vibration against Nick’s lips because Nick doesn’t have it in him to waste another precious half of a second when he’s finally allowed to kiss these plump lips he has fantasised about so much; finally gets to know what Charlie feels like this in his arms. Everything around them stills as their lips tentatively find each other over and over again in the softest of brushes and Nick’s suddenly so overwhelmed from the intensity of it; from all the emotions that had tightened and widened his chest in quick succession in the last few hours, he feels something damp roll down his cheek, again. But this time he isn’t pulling back and he’s not ashamed; instead, he smiles into the kiss as the sheer happiness needs an outlet, needs to pour out of him unabashedly because he can’t believe that it’s finally happening. He feels Charlie mirroring his smile, feels it against his lips and Nick’s arms scoot up to hold Charlie’s face in his hands, holding him tenderly as they lean their foreheads against each other, breathing each other in while soft giggles escape both their chests. Nick presses closer and Charlie tightens his grip on Nick’s waist, one hand spread wide on his upper back, allowing Nick to feel Charlie’s heart rapidly beating in time with his own.

“I’m so sorry for sounding selfish, but I’m kinda glad you’ve had that dream,” Charlie says after what could’ve been a single eternity just to themselves, pulling back enough to look at Nick.

“Oh, are you now?” Nick chuckles, his thumbs gently caressing Charlie’s cheekbones. He feels the sharpness against his pads and can’t help but lean down to press a soft kiss to each side of Charlie’s gorgeous face. Nick sees his eyes flutter shut and lifts his head to press his lips tenderly on Charlie’s eyelids, the softness of his skin feeling like a feather against his own.

He pulls back and watches Charlie slowly opening his eyes again; the intensity in them constricts his chest and a puff of air leaves his lungs involuntarily.

“I love you, Nick,” Charlie whispers, his eyes suddenly glistening suspiciously, “I have for a long time now, probably the moment you stepped into the café as my new coworker. I’ve never been happier in my life since and that’s why I always chickened out from telling you how I really feel. I was so afraid to scare you away, even though I had many moments of hope. I thought I was so obvious but you never acted on it so I lost my courage time after time again.”

“I know,” Nick whispers back, because he does, leaning forward so he can leave a kiss on Charlie’s forehead. “You know, before it all went shit in my dream, you actually flirted quite openly with me,” he confesses as he moves back again, laughing softly.

“I also tried to do that in reality, you know?” Charlie laughs, squeezing Nick’s waist for good measure, “But you always just smiled at me like you thought I was kidding, it was maddening! I even tried to make you jealous by mentioning what I wanted to get hit on, but it didn’t work, you just spaced out on me.”

Nick snorts, he can’t help himself, they’re both ridiculous. “I was trying to gather my courage to confess my feelings right then and there, to hit on you like you wished for.”

“What?” Charlie huffs out a surprised laugh, “We make quite the pair it seems.”

Nick nods and he knows adoration is written all over his face. “We do. And I love that for us. I love you.”

Charlie’s smile turns incredibly soft and there’s so much affection in his gaze, Nick’s chest aches with the depth of his feelings.

“I love you too,” Charlie says, “No more hiding of feelings.”

“No, I promise,” Nick replies and he’s already leaning down again to close the distance once more. He catches Charlie’s lower lip and lets his tongue graze along, gently asking for entrance, for more and Charlie doesn’t hesitate, he opens his mouth and greets him with his own and Nick tastes coffee and vanilla and Charlie, finally.