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Nick Nelson stands in his room, staring at the half-packed duffel bag like it might suddenly decide to sort itself out. He wishes it would—it'd be nice not to feel like he's slowly going mad. He's been packing for days, but it still doesn't feel real. Nellie's at his feet, tail thumping against the floor, acting like it's any other day. Henry's rolling onto his back, paws up, wiggling for attention.
Nick crouches, giving Henry a good belly rub. "Gonna miss you, boy," he whispers. Henry snorts, happy and clueless. Nick almost envies him for it. Maybe it's a bit weird to be jealous of a pug, but here he is.
He straightens up, looking around the room. It's stripped bare now—no posters, no photos, just empty shelves. Everything's already shoved into the cars outside. His mum's been helping load up, making sure it all fits. They've got a couple of hours before they have to leave, just enough time for Charlie to finish school for the day.
Thinking about Charlie sends another jolt through his chest, one he's felt about ten times already this morning. Leeds is four hours away. Properly away. And Charlie's still got another year at Truham. They've talked about it—a lot. Long-distance, visiting each other, texts, calls, the whole lot. Talking's one thing, but actually doing it? That's a whole different story.
Nick checks the time on his phone. 1:30. Charlie's still in class, probably scribbling notes or looking serious in English or History. Nick debates sending him a text, but decides against it. Charlie's Head Boy, always busy. And Nick doesn't want to come across as a needy twat.
He ends up scrolling through his photos. Again. There's one of Charlie from last weekend, sunglasses on, legs sprawled across Nick's lap, looking smug like he knows exactly how much Nick's in love with him. Nick locks the screen quickly, feeling a bit daft for getting sappy. They'll be fine. One year. They can do this. They have to.
"Nick, you nearly ready?" His mum's voice floats from downstairs.
"Yeah, coming!" He grabs his duffel, slings it over his shoulder, and heads down. His mum's in the kitchen, sipping yet another cup of tea. She's probably on her tenth today, but he isn't going to say anything. He gets it. She's just as on edge as he is.
"You sure you've got everything? she asks, like she hasn't already asked about it a hundred times this week.
"Yeah, Mum, I'm sorted." He tries a smile, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes, and she knows it. "Just need to stop for petrol."
She nods, her face softening in that way that makes his chest feel tight. "Big day," she says quietly. "Can't believe you're off to uni."
Nick's stomach lurches. "Yeah. Big day." He doesn't know what else to say. It's all sitting heavy in his throat.
They stand there for a moment, silence stretching between them, until she sets her tea down and pulls him into a hug. He leans in, realising just how much he's going to miss this. The house, Mum, even Rochester. And it's not like the Medway is anyone's dream, but still. It's home.
"You're going to be brilliant," his mum says against his shoulder. "Leeds is lucky to have you."
Is it? Sometimes Nick's still surprised he even managed to get the A-Levels he needed. But he nods, unsure of what to say back. "I'll take the last boxes out," he mumbles, stepping back before he starts tearing up.
They carry the last few boxes out to the cars, his mum insisting on helping even though he tells her not to. The sky's its usual grey, and there's this strange, heavy stillness, like the world's holding its breath. Nick pauses for a moment, taking it all in. The house, the garden, Nellie's paw prints in the mud. It's all so normal. And he's leaving it behind.
"You'll be back at Christmas," his mum says, like she knows exactly what's in his head.
"Yeah, Christmas." He tries a smile, but it feels forced. Christmas seems a long way off.
"I'm sure you and Charlie already have visits planned," she adds with a knowing look.
Nick's sure he turns pink, and his mum chuckles as she heads back inside. She's right, of course. They've planned visits, but it still feels like a load of unknowns. Train tickets aren't exactly cheap for people their age, and even though the trip's not bad, it's going to be a massive change from their usual fifteen-minute walk.
His mum starts making lunch while Nick slumps at the kitchen table, staring at his phone. The group chat's buzzing—Elle going on about last-minute packing for Paris—but Nick can't bring himself to join in. Half of their friends are heading off all over the place for uni, and it feels too big, too sudden. Only Charlie, Tao, and Isaac are staying behind for another year of Sixth Form.
He sighs, leaning back in his chair. The smell of toast fills the kitchen. Nellie's lying back at the back door, watching him, and Henry's snoring next to the fridge. It's all so familiar, but Nick's head feels like a mess.
His phone vibrates again, making his heart jump. It's just a reminder from the LBU rugby group about tryouts. He swipes it away. That's a worry for later. Right now, thinking about rugby and uni just makes him feel queasy.
Charlie. Thinking about him usually helps. Nick pictures him sitting in class, focused and biting his lip when he’s deep in thought. He can already imagine the way Charlie’s eyes will light up when he checks his phone after class, that soft smile that always gets to Nick.
He wishes Charlie was here now. Wishes he could grab his hand, press a kiss to his temple, anything to make this moment feel less overwhelming. After today, who knows when they’ll get to do that again?
Nick swallows hard, blinking against the weird sting in his eyes. Just get through today, he tells himself.
Mum puts two plates of cheese toasties on the table, and they eat in silence, the occasional clink of cutlery the only sound. She keeps glancing at him like she wants to say something, but Nick’s fine with the quiet. His head’s too full for talking.
After lunch, they do one last walk-through of the house. Nick checks every room, even though he knows it’s all empty. It feels weird, like the end of something. He ends up back in his room, looking out at Nellie nosing around the garden. His heart aches. Tomorrow, he won’t wake up to Nellie jumping on his bed or Henry slobbering at his feet.
Nicks' phone goes off, and this time it actually is a message from his boyfriend.
Char:
just finished my last class!
going to change in the locker rooms first
be there soon xx
Nick feels his shoulders relax for the first time all day.
Nick:
Can't wait! Be safe yeah??
always do
you okay?
Getting there
See you in a bit xx
He scrolls back through their chat history—endless conversations, inside jokes, silly pictures. The little things that have kept them sane over the past few weeks. Years, even. It's ridiculous how much comfort he can find in a few words on a screen, but there it is.
He glances out the window. The sky's still that washed-out grey, and Nellie's curled up by the garden fence, probably waiting for the next chance to sneak outside of it. Nick lets out a breath. They're lucky, really, that Jane Spring even agreed to let Charlie come along for the drive to Leeds. Nick's fairly sure it's only because his own mum managed to talk some sense into her. Jane's never quite warmed up to Nick—she's civil, but he knows she doesn't really trust him, not fully. But it's just one night, and then Charlie'll be heading back home with Mum in the morning. Still, four hours in a car together isn't nothing.
"Charlie on his way?" His mum asks when he re-enters the kitchen. She's putting away the lunch dishes, but her eyes still flick to him with that soft concern she's had all day.
"Yeah, he's coming," Nick replies, trying to sound more cheerful than he feels. His voice cracks a little, but she doesn't say anything about it. Just nods, like she gets it, and Nick feels a rush of gratitude for her.
He fiddles with the strap of his duffel, suddenly restless. A few minutes later, there's a knock at the front door. Nick's already halfway there before Henry even stirs, tail wagging lazily.
Charlie stands in the doorway, shirt a little rumpled from how quickly he must have made it over there. His smile is wide, eyes bright, and for a second, the knot in Nick's chest loosens.
"Hi," Charlie says, and before Nick can get a word out, he's smirking. "Miss me that much, Nicholas? You look like you're going to combust."
Nick rolls his eyes but can't help the grin that breaks through. "Maybe I did. Got a problem with that?"
Charlie steps inside and leans in close, pressing a quick kiss to Nick's cheek. "Not one bit." He glances around, eyeing the bag still on Nick's shoulders. "Wow, it's really happening, huh?"
"Yeah," Nick breathes. He looks at Charlie, the person who makes everything else fade just a little bit. "Feels weird."
Charlie's smile falters, only for a moment. He reaches for Nick's hand, their fingers brushing together before locking in place. "It's going to be fine. We've got this."
Nick's about to reply, when his mum walks over, drying her hands on a tea towel. "Charlie! Just in time. How was your day?"
Charlie shoots her a smile. "Busy. But good, thanks."
"Good, good." She gives them both a look that's a bit too knowing. "Well, we better get going if we don't want to hit traffic."
Nick glances at the clock and then at Charlie, who's already looking at him with that steady gaze. The one that says, I'm here. We'll be okay.
"Right, let's get this over with," Nick mutters. It earns him a nudge from Charlie, who whispers, "Stop being so dramatic."
"Can't help it," Nick says, not caring that his mum hears. They're in this moment, one of their last ones, before everything changes.
"We should probably stop for petrol and a bite around Grantham," his mum suggests as she steps out, keys jangling in her hand. "It's about halfway. I'll just drop the dogs next door and then we can go."
Nick nods. "Yeah, good idea."
Charlie just gives a thumbs-up and heads over to the passenger side of the car. As soon as they're both seat-belted in, Charlie's fingers are already fiddling with the music options. Nick starts the engine, half watching his boyfriend's determined expression out of the corner of his eye.
Then music fills the car, and it's that playlist—the one Nick spent way too long curating for this very drive. He'd been prepared to deal with Charlie's teasing, considering Charlie had called it "borderline cringe" the first time he showed it to him.
Nick glances over as he pulls out of the driveway once his mum's back. "I thought you said this playlist was too much."
Charlie raises an eyebrow, a little smirk playing on his lips. "Special circumstances," he says, crossing his arms. "And who knows? Maybe you'll make a convert out of me yet."
Nick chuckles, rolling the window down just a bit, letting the cool air whip through the car as they merge onto the motorway. For a while, they fall into an easy silence, the familiar notes of songs they both know by heart filling the space between them. It's almost like every other time they've driven somewhere together, and there's something warm and reassuring about that.
The miles blur by, fields and trees rushing past in a green and grey smear. Nick taps his fingers against the steering wheel to the beat, the road stretching out in front of them like a thread leading to something new. He sneaks another look at Charlie, who's leaning back with his eyes half-closed, a small smile on his lips.
"Hey, remember when we got lost in that retirement village?" Nick says, breaking the quiet. "You know, that time we were trying to get to the beach after I'd got my licence?"
Charlie's eyes snap open, and he bursts out laughing. "How could I forget? You nearly took out that poor woman's petunias trying to find a place to turn around."
Nick groans, but he's grinning. "Oh god, yeah. I thought she was going to whack us with her walking stick."
"She probably would have if you'd given her half a chance," Charlie says, shaking his head. "And all those old men staring at us like we'd broken into their fortress or something."
Nick laughs, the memory vivid now. He can still see the maze of identical little houses, the neatly trimmed hedges, and the way his palms had been slick with nerves as he tried not to make it more of a disaster. "To be fair, we did look dodgy. You had your sunglasses on and kept waving at everyone."
"Guilty," Charlie admits, not looking the least bit sorry. "I was trying to help, not my fault they thought I was mocking them."
They both fall into fits of laughter again, the motorway flying by as if time itself is in on the joke. It feels good, familiar, like they’re back in that awkward, carefree summer. For a moment, the future doesn’t seem as daunting.
The motorway hums beneath the tyres and they pass a billboard for Whetherspoons. Nick's eyes flick to it for a second before he frowns. It's weird how some memories surface like that—uninvited and a bit sour. Like how a fucking advertisement for Whetherspoons reminds him of the package that had arrived last week. Had he ever even told Charlie about that?
He glances over. Charlie's looking out the window, fingers drumming idly on his knee in time to the music. Nick clears his throat. "Guess who sent me a congratulations card and six-pack of Carlsberg through Parcel Monkey?"
Charlie's brow furrows, and he looks at Nick. "Who?" When Nick just smirks, Charlie rolls his eyes and swats Nick's arm. "Don't be a knob. Who was it?"
Nick chuckles. "My dad. Like he thinks it's some rite of passage or something."
There's a pause. Charlie's expression shifts from confused to annoyed in record time, brows knitting together. "Are you serious? He couldn't be bothered to show up to your Year 13 Awards, but he can send you beer? That you hate. Not that he'd know, since he doesn't fucking bother asking anything about you."
Nick shrugs, gripping the steering wheel a bit tighter. "I think he's a bit wary of me after that café incident. You know, when you went off on him."
Charlie's eyes flash, and he crosses his arms. "Good. He deserved it. And I'd do it again, no regrets."
Nick can't help the laugh that bubbles up. It's ridiculous how Charlie's stubborn streak can be so endearing. "God, you're hot when you get all protective."
Charlie scoffs, but there's a hint of pink in his cheeks when Nick looks over. "Shut up, Nicholas," he mutters, but Nick still catches the small smile he tries to hide.
Nick sighs, eyes flicking to the road ahead. The fields blur past, familiar and safe, but there's still a sick feeling he can't quite shake. "At least he's paying for some of my tuition, I guess."
Charlie doesn't miss a beat. "Yeah, the bare fucking minimum. He doesn't get brownie points for that, Nick."
There’s a sudden surge of affection for his boyfriend racing through him. It’s always been like this. He’s pretty sure both of them would be ready to fight the world for the other, even if it’s just with words. “I know, I know. Trust me, I’m not giving him any medals.”
Charlie huffs, but his expression softens. “Good. You deserve better than his half-arsed attempts at fatherhood. Fucking Carlsberg, god.”
Nick reaches over, finding Charlie's hand and giving it a quick squeeze. "Thanks, Char. For always having my back."
Charlie squeezes back, a small smile on his lips. "Always will."
They fall back into a comfortable silence, hands still linked over the console. The playlist shifts to something slower, more melodic, and Nick finds himself humming along. It's one of Charlie's favourites, he realises. One that always makes Charlie go soft and pliant when they're alone together.
Nick's mind wanders to all those afternoons spent in his room, Charlie curled against his chest, fingers tracing patterns on Nick's skin as this song played in the background. He feels a pang in his chest, sharp and sudden. God, he's going to miss that. Miss the easy intimacy, the way they fit together like two puzzle pieces.
He glances over at Charlie, who's looking out the window with a far-off expression. Nick wonders if he's thinking about the same thing. About all the moments they're leaving behind.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Nick asks quietly, thumb rubbing over Charlie’s knuckles.
Charlie seems to think it over for a minute, biting his lip in that way he does when he’s debating something. But then he shakes his head, a lazy grin spreading across his face. “Just thinking about Sai’s going away party last weekend,” he says, voice taking on a teasing lilt.
Nick’s cheeks heat up instantly at the memory. They’d both gotten tipsy off cheap vodka mixers, the music pumping through the house and everyone in high spirits. He remembers Charlie pulling him upstairs, giggling and stumbling, hands already tugging at the hem of Nick’s shirt. They’d ended up in the upstairs bathroom, door locked, Charlie pressed against the sink.
They'd tried to be quiet, mindful of the thin walls and the party still raging downstairs. But it had been difficult, with the way Charlie kept making these breathy little gasps, fingers digging into Nick's shoulders.
Afterwards, they'd cleaned up as best they could, Charlie's cheeks flushed a pretty pink and Nick's hair a mess from Charlie's fingers. They'd shared a conspiratorial look in the mirror, both of them fighting back laughter at the state of them.
Now, in the car, Nick clears his throat, shifting in his seat. “Yeah, I remember,” he says, aiming for casual and missing by a mile. “Couldn’t look Sai in the eye after that. Pretty sure he knew exactly what we’d been up to.”
Charlie laughs, a bright, carefree sound. “Probably. But he didn’t say anything, so I think we’re in the clear.”
Nick shakes his head. “You’re a menace, Charles Spring. Corrupting me at a perfectly innocent party.”
Charlie scoffs, but his eyes are dancing. “Please, you were just as into it as I was. Don’t even try to pretend otherwise.”
Nick concedes the point with a tilt of his head. He can’t really argue with that.
The moment is broken by the sound of Charlie’s phone buzzing in the centre console. Nick catches the grimace he makes at the device from the corner of his eye and raises an eyebrow. “Everything okay?”
Charlie sighs, setting his phone back down with more force than necessary. “My mum’s being ridiculous again. Like, triple checking to make sure the plan for tomorrow.”
"What, she doesn’t trust me to return you in one piece?”
Charlie snorts. “Apparently not. She’s been on the edge all week, making snide comments about how I better not get any ideas.” He pitches his voice higher in a poor imitation of his mother. “‘Charles, you better not even think about staying in Leeds. You’ve got responsibilities here, you know. A-Levels to prepare for.’”
Nick frowns, fingers tightening on the steering wheel. He knows Jane Spring has never been his biggest fan, but the lack of trust still stings. “Does she really think I’d let you throw away your future like that? I mean, I know she’s not thrilled about us, but come on.”
Charlie reaches over, placing a soothing hand on Nick’s thigh. “Hey, don’t let her get to you. She’s just… overprotective. And maybe a bit paranoid. But that’s her issue, not ours.”
Nick takes a deep breath, trying to let the frustration ebb away. Charlie’s right, of course. Jane’s opinions shouldn’t matter, not when they both know the truth. But it’s hard not to feel her disapproval, even from a distance.
“I just wish she’d give me a bit more credit,” Nick mutters, signalling to overtake a particularly slow lorry. “I’m not some villain trying to lead you astray.”
Charlie’s thumb rubs slow circles against the denim of Nick’s jeans, a calming gesture. “I know. And deep down, I think she knows that too. She’s just… struggling with the idea of me growing up. Of us being serious about each other.”
Nick glances over, catching the wry twist of Charlie’s lips. “We are pretty serious, huh?”
Charlie’s hand slides higher, teasing. “I’d say so, yeah. I don’t let just anyone ravish me in their mate’s bathroom you know.”
Nick barks out a surprised laugh, the tension in his shoulders easing. “Oh, is that what we’re calling it now? Ravishing?”
Charlie grins, unrepentant. “I mean, I was pretty thoroughly debauched, so yeah. Ravished seems appropriate.”
Nick chuckles again, but shoots one more worried glance over at his boyfriend. "She does know actually you're coming back tomorrow, yeah? Like, we've been over this."
Charlie sighs. "Yeah, well, apparently that's not enough reassurance for her. She's acting like I'm about to elope to Vegas or something."
"I mean, if you want to elope, I'm game," Nick jokes, trying to lighten the mood. "But maybe somewhere a bit closer? Brighton's nice this time of year."
Charlie snorts, shooting Nick an amused look. "Oh, sure, that'll go over well. 'Sorry, Mum, can't come back tomorrow, Nick and I have decided to run off and get hitched. We'll send you a postcard from the seaside.'"
Nick laughs, picturing Jane Spring's face at that news. "God, she'd probably hop on the next train and drag you back herself."
Charlie chuckles, but there’s a hint of weariness in his voice. “Probably. Or she’d send Tori after me. Either way, it wouldn’t be pretty.”
Nick slips one of his hands under Charlie’s, lacing their fingers together. “We’ll get through this. Your mum will come around eventually. And even if she doesn’t, it doesn’t change anything between us.”
Charlie’s smile is small but genuine as he squeezes Nick’s hand. “I know. Just wish it didn’t have to be so hard sometimes. She’s never been like this with Oliver.”
“Well, we’ve made it this far. We can handle things like your mum and a little distance.”
Charlie hums in agreement, leaning back in his seat and closing his eyes. For a while, they let the music drift between them, hands still intertwined as the miles slip by. Nick finds himself stealing more glances at his boyfriend more often than he should, trying to memorise every detail. The way the sun catches in his hair, the slope of his nose, the tiny freckle just below his eye.
He wonders if Charlie’s doing the same when he feels him looking, eyes fluttering open to meet Nick’s before daring away again, a secret smile playing on his lips. It feels precious, this pocket of time that belongs to just them. No parents, no responsibilities, no goodbyes looming for now. Just the open road and the promise of one more night together.
Nick almost doesn’t want the drive to end. Wants to keep going, past Leeds, past everything, until it’s just the two of them and the horizon. But he knows that’s not possible. Not yet, anyway.
So he contents himself with this—the brush of Charlie’s thumb against his skin, the soft sound of his breathing, the way he mouths along to the words of a song he pretends not to know. Nick commits it all to memory, tucking it away for the lonely nights he knows are coming.
Because as much as he hates to admit it, he’s scared. Scared of what the distance will do to them, of how much harder it will be to read Charlie through a phone screen. He’s scared of the silence that will stretch between them, of the missed calls and unanswered texts. He’s scared that one day, Charlie will wake up and realise that Nick’s not worth the effort anymore.
But most of all, he’s scared of losing this . The easy intimacy, the bone-deep certainty that Charlie is his and he is Charlie’s. The knowledge that no matter what happens, they’ll always have each other to come home to.
Nick takes a shaky breath, blinking back the sudden sting in his eyes. He can’t think like that. Can’t let the fear take over. They’re stronger than that. They have to be.
As if sensing his spiralling thoughts, Charlie sits up a bit straighter. giving Nick’s hand a firm squeeze. “Hey,” he says softly, waiting until Nick glances over. “Stop that. I know what you’re doing.”
Nick swallows hard, forcing a smile. “What am I doing?”
Charlie’s eyes are steady, seeing right through him like always. “Worrying. Convincing yourself this is all going to fall apart the second you’re gone.”
Nick huffs out a humourless laugh. “Am I that obvious?”
“To me? Always.” Charlie’s voice is gentle, but there’s a fierceness behind it. “But I’m telling you right now, Nicholas Nelson, that you’re wrong. This?” He lifts their joined hands, pressing a kiss to Nick’s knuckles. “This isn’t going anywhere. I’m not going anywhere.”
Nick’s breath catches, his heart doing a complicated flip in his chest. “Promise?”
The responding smile is soft but sure. “Cross my heart. You’re stuck with me. Distance be damned.”
Nick nods, blinking rapidly against the sudden swell of emotion. “Okay. Okay, good. Because I’m not going anywhere either.”
Charlie’s grin turns cheeky. “Well, technically you are . To Leeds. Which, speaking of…” He nods towards the upcoming road sign, which cheerfully announces their impending arrival in 90 miles.
Nick groans, the reality of their situation settling back over him. “Don’t remind me. Fuck, what if my flatmates suck?”
Charlie laughs, patting Nick’s thigh consolingly. “Then you’ll kill them with kindness and hide all your stuff. It’s only for two terms. You can handle shit flatmates for two terms.”
“Two terms is a long fucking time, Charles.”
The exit towards Grantham is quickly approaching, and Charlie gently points it out, reminding Nick that it’s where his mum wanted to stop to get more petrol and a bite to eat before continuing the rest of the way to Leeds.
Nick nods, signalling to pull off the motorway. The service station is a beacon of fluorescent lighting against the slowly darkening sky, a little oasis of petrol pumps and fast food. He can see his mum’s car pull up and park behind them, her silhouette visible through the windscreen as she checks her phone.
Charlie is already unbuckling his seatbelt, rolling his shoulders to work out the kinks from the drive. “God, I might actually be starving,” he groans, reaching for the door handle. “I hope they have something decent here.”
Nick chuckles, grabbing his wallet from the centre console before following Charlie out into the crisp evening air. Charlie’s been in recovery long enough now that casual food mentions aren’t as much of a rarity these days, but it still makes Nick happy to know how far he’s come.
“Define decent,” he says. “Because I’m pretty sure our options are limited to soggy chips and questionable meat products.”
Charlie wrinkles his nose but shrugs. “Well, I’m sure we can find something.”
They walk towards the little cluster of shops and cafes once both cars are topped up on petrol, Nick’s mum falling into step beside them. She gives Nick a quick once-over, her eyes lingering on his face. “How’re you holding up, love?” she asks quietly, her hand coming up to smooth back an errant hair from his forehead.
Nick leans into the touch, suddenly feeling very young. “I’m alright,” he assures her, mustering a smile. “Just ready to get there and get settled, I think.”
She nods, understanding in her eyes. “Of course. Well, let’s get some food in you first. Can’t have you wasting away before you even get to Leeds, can we?”
Charlie snorts from Nick’s other side. “Not much chance of that, I reckon. He’s been stress-eating Jaffa Cakes all week.”
“Oi!” Nick protests, elbowing Charlie in the ribs. “Traitor. I thought we agreed that what happens in the Nelson-Spring household stays in the Nelson-Spring household.”
Charlie just beams, unyielding. “Sorry, I must have missed that memo. I’ll be sure to keep your snacking habits on the down-low from now on.”
His mum laughs, shaking her head. “You two. Come on, let’s see what we can scrounge up.”
They end up in a little cafe with sticky linoleum floors and faded posters on the wall. The menu is limited, but they all manage to find something passable - Nick goes for a sad-looking burger, Charlie opts for an equally tragic plate of chips, and his mum settles on a pre-packaged sandwich that looks like it’s seen better days.
They eat quietly for a bit, and then his mum steps away to hunt down the loos before they get back on the road. Nick leans across the table as soon as she disappears. “So, any thoughts on how you want to actually spend the last night we have?”
“Hmm, I don’t know.” There’s a telltale blush rising on Charlie’s cheeks as he puts another chip in his mouth. “Thought I might take advantage of you in your new bed. Christen those fancy sheets we bought and all that.”
Nick’s eyebrows shoot up, a surprised laugh escaping him. “Wow, forward, aren’t we?” He reaches out, snagging one of Charlie’s chips. “And here I thought you were a good, wholesome boy.”
“Please,” Charlie scoffs, batting Nick’s hand away. “You know better than anyone how unwholesome I can be.”
Nick grins, popping the chip into his mouth. It’s cold and a bit too salty, but he hardly notices. Not when Charlie is looking at him like that, all coy and full of promise. “Believe me, I remember. Still have a scar on my shoulder from when you bit me last time.”
Charlie flushes deeper, glancing around like he’s worried someone might overhear. But the cafe is mostly empty, just a few weary travellers hunched over their meals. “That was an accident,” he hisses, leaning in. “And you liked it, if I recall.”
Nick hums. “Never said I didn’t. In fact, feel free to do it again anytime.”
Charlie’s eyes darken, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip. Nick tracks the movement, heat curling into his belly. God, the things he wants to do to him. The things he probably would do if they were alone right now.
“Careful, Nicholas,” Charlie warns. “Keep talking like that and we might not make it to Leeds.”
Nick's breath catches, his mind flooding with images of them pulling off at the next exit. Finding a quiet spot, maybe, with Charlie in his lap and his hands buried in those curls. Fogged windows and the slick slide of skin, Charlie's mouth hot against his throat.
He clears his throat, shifting in his seat. "Right. Yeah. Probably not the best idea."
Charlie smirks like he knows exactly what Nick is thinking. He probably does, the bastard. "Later," he promises, nudging Nick's foot with his own under the table. "Once your mum is tucked away in her hotel room and we've got some proper privacy."
Nick nods, trying to get himself under control. The last thing he needs is to be sporting a semi when his mum comes back. Speaking of which, she's been gone a while. He frowns, glancing towards the toilets. "Wonder what's taking her so long."
Charlie shrugs, reaching for another chip. "Maybe there was a queue."
His mum returns just a minute or so later, a deep frown etched on her face. She slides back into her seat with a sigh, setting her phone down on the table with a bit more force than necessary.
“Everything alright?” Nick asks, already sensing that it’s not.
His mum presses her lips together, a telltale sign that she’s trying to figure out how to phrase something. “That was Jane on the phone,” she says finally, her tone careful. “She’s… concerned about the sleeping arrangements for tonight.”
Nick’s stomach drops. He exchanges a quick glance with Charlie, who looks equally apprehensive. “What do you mean?” Nick asks, even though he’s pretty sure he already knows the answer.
His mum sighs again, rubbing at her temple. “She wants to make sure that Charlie is staying in the hotel room with me tonight. Not at your flat.”
His fingers clench around his napkin. “Seriously? We’ve been together for nearly three years. Does she really think we haven’t been—”
Charlie makes a choked noise, his face flaming red. “Oh my god, Nick, please don’t finish that sentence in front of your mum.”
Nick’s mum holds up a placating hand, looking like she’d rather be having any other conversation than this one. “I’m well aware, trust me.” She clears her throat delicately and Nick nearly gets war flashbacks to the conversation ages ago when she’d sat them both down after deciding that Truham’s RSE course wasn’t satisfactory. “But Jane is just… she’s struggling with the idea, I suppose. Of Charlie being here at all, I think, and with you two being unsupervised.”
Jane Spring is either the most wilfully ignorant person on the planet, or she’s just doing it to be cruel. Once again, Nick finds himself thanking every star out there that he was blessed with a mum who seems to accept the fact that they’re capable of making their own decisions.
“So, what?” Nick eventually asks, poking at his now empty burger wrapper. “We’re just supposed to go along with it? Pretend like we’re not old enough to decide on our own? It’s the last night I’m even going to see him in weeks, and I can’t even sleep next to him like we have been all summer because…?”
His mum hesitates, glancing between them with a conflicted expression. “Well, I suppose what Jane doesn’t know won’t hurt her, will it?”
Nick blinks, not quite believing what he’s hearing. His mum’s always been supportive, but going directly against Jane Spring’s express wishes doesn’t happen very often, even when she doesn’t agree with them. “Wait, really? You’re okay with Charlie staying with me?”
His mum gives a small shrug, a smile tugging at her lips. “I trust you both to be responsible. And I know how important this time is for you two. Far be it from me to get in the way of that.”
Relief floods through Nick, followed quickly by a surge of affection for his mum. He reaches across the table, squeezing her hand. “Thanks, Mum. Really. You’re the best.”
She squeezes back, her eyes suspiciously misty. “Just promise me you’ll actually get some sleep tonight, yeah? You’ve got a big day tomorrow.”
Nick flushes, but nods. “Promise. We’ll behave.”
Charlie makes another strangled noise that might be a laugh, but he’s smiling too. “Thank you, Sarah. I really appreciate it.”
Nick’s mum waves him off. “Don’t mention it, love. Now, what do you say we hit the road? Still a ways to go.”
They gather up their rubbish, binning it on the way out. The early evening air is cool against Nick’s skin as they make their way back to the cars, a welcome relief from the stuffy cafe.
Charlie slides into the passenger seat, immediately reaching for Nick’s hand once they’re both buckled in. He laces their fingers together, his palm warm against Nick’s. “Well, that was… unexpected?”
Nick huffs out a laugh, starting the engine. “Tell me about it. I thought for sure she was going to make you stay with her.”
Charlie hums, his thumb stroking over Nick’s knuckles. “Guess we got lucky. Your mum is pretty amazing, you know that?”
“Yeah,” Nick agrees, pulling out of the car park. “She is. I don’t know what I’d do without her, honestly.”
They merge back onto the motorway, the lights of the service station fading into the rear view mirror. Nick sets the cruise control, settling in for the last leg of the journey. The last two hours seem to fly by, the miles melting away beneath the tyres as they speed towards Leeds.
Charlie keeps his hand in Nick’s the whole way, their fingers intertwined on the centre console. They talk about everything and nothing - memories from the past few years, hopes for the future, silly inside jokes that make them both laugh until their sides hurt. It’s a fun reminder of why they work so well together.
Before Nick knows it, they’re pulling off the motorway, following the signs for Leeds Beckett. His stomach gives a nervous swoop as they navigate the unfamiliar streets, towering buildings and bustling crowds replacing the open fields and quieter villages of the last few hours. It's different, now that he's actually moving here and not just taking a tour, like the concept of calling any of this home is still incredibly foreign.
“You alright?” Charlie asks quietly.
Nick nods, swallowing past the sudden lump in his throat. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. Just… a lot to take in, you know?”
“I can imagine. But you’ve got this.”
Nick glances over, catching the earnest shine in his boyfriend’s eyes. “Thank you.”
They pull up outside Nick’s halls a few minutes later, his mum parking her car just behind them. Nick takes a deep breath, trying to calm the frantic flutter of his heart. This is it. The start of a new chapter, one he’ll have to navigate largely on his own.
But not entirely, he reminds himself, looking over at Charlie. He'll have Charlie, even if he's not physically here. He'll have his mum, just a phone call away. He'll have his friends, old and (hopefully) new, to lean on when things get tough.
He can do this.
With that thought bolstering him, Nick climbs out of the car, Charlie following close behind. They stand together for a moment, shoulders brushing as they take in the imposing brick building that will be Nick's home for the next year.
"Not bad," Charlie says, nudging Nick with his elbow. "Bit nicer than I thought, even after looking at all those pictures.”
Nick laughs, some of the tension easing from his shoulders. "Yeah, it's not quite the grim, Soviet-era concrete block I was picturing."
"Don't jinx it," Charlie teases. "For all we know, the inside could be a total disaster. Mould on the walls, dodgy plumbing, the works."
"Christ, don't even joke about that." Nick shudders, but he's grinning. Trust Charlie to know exactly how to settle his nerves.
His mum joins them, car keys jingling in her hand. "Well, this looks lovely! Very modern."
"Mum, it was built in, like, 2010. I'm not sure that qualifies as modern."
She waves a dismissive hand. "Modern enough for me. Shall we see about getting you checked in?"
Nick nods, squaring his shoulders. "Right. Yeah. Let's do this."
They head into the building, following the signs for the welcome desk. The lobby is bright and airy, with high ceilings and sleek furniture. A few other students are milling about, looking just as wide-eyed and nervous as Nick feels, though not many. Most students didn’t opt for early check-in and wouldn’t be arriving until later that weekend.
The smiling girl at the front desk greets them warmly, her name tag identifying her as one of the Res Life team members. "Hi there! Checking in?"
"Yeah, erm, Nicholas Nelson?"
The girl taps away at her computer, her smile unwavering. “Found you! Welcome to Leeds Beckett. Here’s your keycard,” she says, handing over a white card in a clear plastic holder. “You’re in Flat 3, Room 5.”
Nick takes the keycard, feeling its weight settle into his palm. It’s real now—no going back. He glances at Charlie, who gives him an encouraging nod, eyes bright with excitement. His mum is watching with that mix of pride and sadness she’s been wearing all day.
“Also,” the girl continues, “make sure you fill out the Arrival Inspection Form on the Home at Halls app. Just go through each room and note any issues you spot so everything’s logged. It’s important to get that done in the first 24 hours.”
“Got it. Thanks,” Nick says, tucking the card into his pocket. The instructions are already spinning in his head, mixing with all the other little tasks he has to keep track of. Fill out the form, unpack, try not to think too hard about Charlie leaving in less than 24 hours.
“Should we go up?” Charlie asks, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Nick nods, and they all make their way to the lift, which hums quietly as it carries them up. His mum chatters about how lovely the halls look, how it’s changed since she was in university—“not that ours were anything like this”—and Nick tunes in and out, focusing on the bustle of nerves in his stomach.
The lift dings, and they step out into the corridor. It’s quiet, the echo of their footsteps filling the space. No other students are in sight yet, which is both a relief and a reminder that things are about to change fast.
Nick finds his room and slides the keycard into the slot. The lock clicks, and he pushes the door open, revealing a surprisingly clean and bright space. A narrow bed, a desk by the window, a small wardrobe. Simple, but it’s his. For now, anyway.
“Not bad,” Charlie says again, stepping inside and glancing around. He inspects the walls and corners like he’s looking for hidden cracks. “Okay, no mould so far. We’re off to a good start.”
Nick rolls his eyes but laughs. “Thanks, inspector.”
His mum follows them in, taking in the space with a warm smile. “It’s cosy, Nick. You’ll make it feel like home in no time.”
Nick runs a hand over the desk, testing its sturdiness. “Yeah, I think so.” The words come out steadier than he feels. The reality of being here, actually being here, is finally sinking in.
Charlie nudges him again. “Come on, get that form done so we can call it all up to standard.”
Nick snorts. “Alright, alright.” He pulls out his phone, opening the Home at Halls app and navigating to the Arrival Inspection Form. He takes a picture of the pristine walls, the untouched mattress, and the slightly dented wardrobe door.
“Looks good to me,” he says, finishing up and setting his phone down. His mum claps her hands together. “Right, shall we go bring up the rest of your things?”
Nick nods, a small smile breaking through. “Yeah, sounds good. Let’s get settled in.” He catches Charlie’s eye as they leave the room.
They head back out to the cars, popping the boots to reveal the truly staggering amount of stuff Nick's managed to accumulate. "Christ, did you pack bricks?" Charlie groans, hefting a particularly heavy box. "What's even in this one?"
"Books, I think." Nick frowns. "Or maybe my weights? I can't remember."
They start loading up, making trip after trip up to Nick's new flat. By the time they drag the last few bags in, they're all sweaty and out of breath, but laughing. Charlie dramatically collapses onto the bare mattress, throwing an arm over his eyes. "I'm done. You can just leave me here to die."
"Get up, you drama queen." Nick chucks a pillow at him.
Charlie catches the pillow before it can smack him in the face, grinning up at Nick. "Rude. Is this how you treat your loving boyfriend who just hauled all your shit up three flights of stairs?"
"Yes, yes it is," Nick says, smirking. "Now come on, we still need to make the bed."
Charlie groans but sits up, running a hand through his hair. It's sticking up at odd angles, curling damply at the nape of his neck. Nick's fingers itch to smooth it down, to pull Charlie close and breathe him in. But his mum is right there, already pulling out the new sheets they'd bought last week.
"I'll take care of this," she says, shaking out a fitted sheet. "You two start unpacking some of those boxes before it gets too late, yeah?"
Nick nods. "Sure, Mum. Thanks." He grabs a box at random, peeling back the tape. It's full of clothes, haphazardly folded and shoved in. He starts pulling them out, Charlie joining him a moment later.
They work in companionable silence for a bit, the rustle of fabric and cardboard the only sounds. Nick sneaks glances at Charlie as they unpack, watching the furrow of concentration between his brows, the way he worries his bottom lip between his teeth. He looks softer like this, all rumpled and focused, and it makes Nick's chest ache with how much he loves him.
"What?" Charlie asks after a while, catching Nick staring. His mouth quirks up at the corner. "Do I have something on my face?"
Nick shakes his head. "No, no. Just admiring the view."
Charlie ducks his head, a pleased flush spreading over his cheeks. "Sap," he mutters, but he's smiling.
They get back to work, the pile of empty boxes growing as they fill the wardrobe and desk drawers. Nick's mum finishes with the bed, smoothing the duvet into place with a satisfied nod. "There. That's better."
There’s not much left to unpack after that, and most of it can be finished after Charlie and his mum leave the next morning, so she opts to head to her reservation at the hotel down the street to check in for the night, and they all quickly make plans to meet up for breakfast the next morning.
She gives them both a giant enveloping hug before she heads out, the kind that makes Nick feel like he’s five years old again, safe and loved. She holds on a bit longer than usual, her hand cupping the back of his head. “I’m so proud of you,” she whispers, voice thick with emotion. “You’re going to be amazing here, Nicky. I just know it.”
Nick swallows hard, blinking back the sudden sting in his eyes. "Thanks, Mum. For everything."
She pulls back, wiping at her own damp cheeks. "Right, enough of that. I'll see you both in the morning, yeah? Bright and early."
"We'll be there," Nick assures her. "Get some rest."
With one last watery smile, she slips out the door, leaving Nick and Charlie alone in the quiet of the room. It feels different now, charged with something Nick can't quite name. The knowledge that this is it, their last night together for who knows how long, hangs heavy in the air.
Charlie seems to sense it too. He steps closer, slipping his arms around Nick's waist and resting his head on Nick's shoulder. "And then there were two," he murmurs.
Nick hums, turning his head to press a kiss to Charlie's temple. "Whatever will we do with ourselves?"
"Oh, I can think of a few things." Charlie's voice is low, suggestive, his fingers slipping beneath the hem of Nick's shirt to stroke over the warm skin of his lower back.
Nick shivers, heat coiling in his belly. "Is that so?"
Charlie nips at his earlobe in response, a sharp little sting that makes Nick gasp. "Mhm. Want me to show you?"
Nick twists in his arms until they're face to face, Charlie's eyes dark and wanting. "Please," he breathes, already leaning in.
Their mouths meet in a searing kiss, all the pent-up emotion of the day pouring out. Charlie licks into his mouth, hands fisting in Nick's shirt, pulling him impossibly closer. Nick groans, backing them up until the backs of Charlie's knees hit the edge of the bed.
They tumble onto the bed together, a tangle of limbs and laughter. Nick rolls on top of Charlie, bracing himself on his elbows as he looks down at his boyfriend. Charlie's hair is mussed against the pillows, his cheeks flushed and his eyes bright. He's the most beautiful thing Nick's ever seen.
"Hi," Nick whispers, suddenly overwhelmed with emotion. This is it, their last night together for who knows how long. He wants to memorise every detail, every dimple and eyelash and quirk of Charlie's lips.
“Hi,” Charlie whispers back, reaching up to cup Nick’s face in his hands. “You okay?”
Nick nods, turning his head to press a kiss to Charlie's palm. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay.”
They undress each other slowly, reverently, hands and mouths mapping out familiar paths across heated skin. It feels different this time, weighted with the knowledge that after tonight, they won't have this again for weeks, maybe even months. Every touch, every kiss, every shared breath feels heightened, more intense.
When there's finally nothing left between them, Nick hovers over Charlie, drinking in the sight of him spread out across the sheets, all pale skin and dark hair and kiss-swollen lips. "God, you're so beautiful," he murmurs, his voice rough with emotion. "I'm going to miss you so much, Char."
Charlie's breath hitches, his eyes shining in the low light. "I'm going to miss you too," he whispers, his fingers trailing down Nick's chest, leaving goosebumps in their wake. "More than you know."
Nick leans down, capturing Charlie's lips in a searing kiss. He pours everything he's feeling into it - all the love, the longing, the bittersweet ache of knowing that soon, this will be nothing more than a cherished memory until they can be together again. Charlie kisses him back just as fiercely, his hands tangling in Nick's hair, pulling him impossibly closer.
"I love you," Nick murmurs against Charlie's throat, his lips brushing over the fluttering pulse there. "I love you so much, Charlie. You're everything to me."
Charlie arches beneath him, his nails digging into Nick's shoulders. "I love you too," he pants, his voice raw and wrecked. "Always, Nick. No matter what."
Nick pulls back just enough to look into Charlie's eyes, to see the overwhelming emotion shining there, the depth of feeling that mirrors his own. "Always," he echoes, the word a vow, a promise. "No matter the distance, no matter how long we're apart. You're it for me, Charlie Spring. You're my forever."
Charlie's breath shudders out of him, his eyes suspiciously shiny. "Soppy git," he teases, but his voice wavers, betraying just how affected he is. "Trying to make me cry when your dick is literally right there."
Nick huffs out a laugh, dropping his head to Charlie's shoulder. "Sorry, sorry. I just... I need you to know, Char. How much you mean to me. How much this, us, means to me."
Charlie's hands come up to cradle Nick's face, tilting it up until their eyes meet again. "I do know, Nick. Of course I know."
They wind up taking their time, which doesn’t happen very often, drawing out every touch and sensation until they’re both trembling on the edge. When they finally fall over it, it’s together, Charlie’s name falling from Nick’s lips like a prayer as pleasure crashes over him in waves.
Afterwards, they lay tangled together, sweat cooling on their skin as their breathing slowly returns to normal. Nick pulls Charlie close, wrapping his arms around him like he's trying to memorise the feel of his body, the way they fit together so perfectly.
Charlie tucks his head under Nick's chin, his fingers tracing idle patterns across his chest. They're quiet for a long time, just soaking in the feeling of being together, of being as close as two people can be.
It feels like the start of a countdown, ticking away the hours until Charlie has to drive back to Kent. He doesn't want to think about that yet, about being here without his boyfriend. But now that the thought's wormed its way in, he can't quite shake it.
Charlie shifts against him, letting out a quiet sigh that tickles Nick's neck. "I don't think I'm gonna sleep much," he mumbles into Nick's skin.
Nick snorts softly, running a hand down Charlie's back, tracing his spine. "What, too busy thinking about how amazing I am?"
Charlie scoffs, giving him a light smack on the chest. "Oh, obviously. That's it. I'm just lying here in awe of Nicholas Nelson , the absolute god of packing and assembling flat-pack furniture. Such a man of many talents."
Nick grins, leaning down to kiss the top of Charlie's head. "Glad you've finally realised. It only took you... how long? Almost three years?"
Charlie pulls back just enough to look at him, his eyes shining in the dim light. "Three long, painful years," he deadpans, but his lips are twitching, threatening to turn up into a smile.
Nick chuckles, his chest rumbling under Charlie's chin. "Painful? I think you mean 'life-changing.'"
"Yeah, sure," Charlie drawls, but his fingers are still moving over Nick's skin, his touch soft and familiar. They fall into a comfortable silence again, the kind that only comes after years of being this close, of knowing each other inside out.
But Nick can feel it—something shifting in the air. He can feel the tension building in Charlie's body, even though he's trying to hide it. Nick's always been able to read him, and right now, something's brewing under the surface.
"You alright?" He asks as he threads his fingers through Charlie's curls.
Charlie goes still for a moment, then exhales shakily. "Yeah, just... fuck. I don't know." He swallows hard, and Nick feels his own chest pang. Charlie's voice is barely a whisper when he speaks again. "I promised myself I wouldn't cry."
Nick's stomach plummets. "Hey..." He lifts Charlie's chin gently, forcing him to look up. Charlie's eyes are already glassy, tears clinging to his lashes, and it breaks Nick's heart in two. "You don't have to hold it in for me."
Charlie shakes his head, biting down on his bottom lip like he's trying to keep it together, but it's too late. A tear slips free, trailing down his cheek, and he lets out a frustrated sound, swiping at his face like he's angry with himself.
"Fuck's sake," Charlie mutters. "I didn't want to do this. I knew I'd be a mess, but I thought I could at least wait 'til after I left."
Nick's throat tightens, and he pulls Charlie closer, cradling him against his chest. "It's okay," he says into his hair. "You don't have to be strong all the time, you know. It's just me. You can cry if you need to."
Charlie lets out a shaky breath, his fingers curling around Nick's bicep. "I hate this," he whispers. "I don't wanna leave tomorrow. It feels like—like we're saying goodbye or something. Like it's the end of—"
"Oi, stop," Nick cuts in gently, his heart continuing to shatter at the way Charlie's voice cracks. "It's not the end of anything, alright? We're just gonna be in different places for a bit. We'll figure it out."
Charlie sniffles, pressing his face back into Nick's chest, and Nick tightens his arms around him, like maybe if he holds on tight enough, he can stop the world from spinning. Stop time, just for tonight, so they don't have to think about tomorrow.
"I know," Charlie hiccups. "I know we'll figure it out. It's just... I'm shit at this stuff. At goodbyes."
Nick sighs softly, running his hand up and down Charlie's back in slow, soothing strokes. "You're not shit at it. It's hard, yeah, but we'll make it work. We always do."
Charlie lets out a weak laugh. "Why are you always so fucking calm about everything?"
"I'm not." Nick insists, burying his nose in Charlie's hair. "I'm freaking out too, trust me. I'm just better at hiding it."
Charlie hiccups again, but at least it sounds more like a laugh this time. "Prick."
"Yeah, yeah. You love me, though."
"Unfortunately."
They fall into that easy rhythm again, teasing and bickering like this is any other night, like they're not about to be hundreds of miles apart. But Nick knows what this means to both of them. This isn't like the summer, when they had weeks to soak up every moment before he left. This time, they don't have that luxury.
They talk for what feels like hours, bouncing from one stupid topic to the next, giggling over in-jokes and old memories. Every now and then, Nick catches the way Charlie's eyes flicker with emotion, but he doesn't push it. He knows how hard this is for him, for both of them.
Eventually, Charlie's breathing evens out, his head resting on Nick's chest, the rise and fall of it lulling him into a sort of uneasy calm. But Nick stays awake, his hand resting in Charlie's hair, his thoughts spinning. He can't stop thinking about how empty the room's going to feel without Charlie in it, without his laugh, his stupid jokes, the way he steals Nick's clothes and leaves them lying around.
He presses his lips to the top of Charlie's head, whispering into the quiet room, "I love you."
And even though Charlie's half-asleep, his lips curl into the softest smile, and Nick swears he feels his insides ache with how much he means it.