Chapter Text
“Mum, it's me!” Nick proclaims while closing the door behind himself, his heart and senses immediately filled with the familiar sights, sounds and smells of home.
He hasn’t been back since what? Mid-January? Before, he used to try and spend time with his mother quite often and regularly. Nick loves his and Sarah’s laid-back yet trusting relationship (which he knows is not something to take for granted), and if his visits overlap with Charlie also being back from London to justify his choice of study to Jane yet again (see?), he gladly seizes on another chance to see his boyfriend, thank you very much.
But over the last few weeks he’s been, to put it mildly, busy as fuck, so it just wasn’t practical: Between rugby training, his last exams and presentations, the involvement in the soc and… other things he has been occupied with, the time he could have spent in Rochester would have been the same, if not shorter, than the train rides back and forth would have taken. And that wouldn’t have been very sensible, neither environmentally nor financially, even if it was his father’s money that would have paid for those short moments of sweet escape.
While bending over to untie his Vans after dropping his holdall, he hears his mum shouting “Kitchen!” and makes a beeline for his favourite room in the house, picking up a heavily panting Henry along the way.
“Hey little fella,” he whispers into the pug’s noticeably greying ear. “How’ve you been?” As usual, Henry refuses a verbal answer, but stretches up and gives an enthusiastic lick across all the parts of Nick’s face he can reach. “Yeah, I know, I missed you too, mate,” Nick chuckles and wipes his chin free of drool with the hand not currently holding his second-favourite dog of all time.
“Hi baby, welcome back!” His mum beams at him as he enters the kitchen and stops at the island. She’s wearing the burgundy apron he gifted her the Christmas before last, saying “A mother’s secret ingredient? - A whole lotta love gin!”, her cheeks dusted with flour. He’s obviously arrived in the middle of an extended baking session, as she is just setting a timer and squats in front of the oven, glancing through the steamed up window.
There are already several batches of muffins and cupcakes on the counter, waiting to be decorated. As he lets Henry down to the floor and leans over the counter, Nick can’t help but tease her.
“Mum, I know I haven’t been home in some time, but you don’t have to feed me all the calories of the last two and a half months - we have Tesco in Leeds, you know?”
“Don’t be silly, dear,” she retorts instantly, keeping her eyes on whatever is about to rise behind the glass. The kitchen smells like a conglomerate of sweet and happy childhood memories - chocolate, lemon, apple and cinnamon, roasted peanuts, and Nick is sure there is also a trace of lavender.
“These are for Ivy’s bake sale tomorrow,” his mum explains. “All profits go to Grandpa, Gran and Them, the charity she founded last summer!” With that, his mother slaps her hands on her thighs and straightens up. “Now will you please get over here and hug me, before I’m old enough to actually join them?” Nick lifts himself off the kitchen island and takes the four steps over to the woman who has taught him more than he can ever repay her for.
The moment he pulls her into a firm embrace, rests his chin on her head and takes in the familiar smell - the shampoo she’s been using for as long as he can remember, the apple-y fabric softener he is always too tight-fisted to buy for himself, and the one distinctive fragrance that simply is Sarah Nelson - he realises just how much he missed her. He hugs her even tighter and kisses her on the cheek before letting go.
They FaceTimed a lot, yeah, but standing in his childhood home, in the detached house that holds so many memories for him, significantly more good than bad ones by the way, makes him realise that ten weeks without having his mum call him an endearment to his face are, in fact, way too long. It’s exactly like that with Charlie, the contact over the phone only gets you so far.
No, scratch that - that sounded kind of creepy, even in his head. It’s like that with Charlie, yes. But there are sooo many levels their mother-and-son-via-phone-relationship is decisively different from the one he has with his boyfriend of almost five years, and Nick is unbelievably happy about that. If there weren’t, there probably would be a documentary about them on Netflix or something.
As if knowing where his thoughts are lingering, Sarah asks, “Where’s Charlie, dear? I thought you boys were arriving on the same train?” She’s looking past him, as if he’s keeping Charlie concealed behind his back or a mop of dark curls is going to come through the doorframe any second now. “Oh!” She somehow manages for her eyes to widen and narrow simultaneously. “Did he have to go around his parents’ first? Keep them updated and everything?”
The way she phrases it shows her deep understanding of the challenges Charlie still has to face at home and, at the same time, her consideration in not pointing them out, so as not to give any of them a bad feeling or to criticise the Springs directly. She would have made a great ambassador or diplomat. Nick loves her so much.
“Uh, no,” he replies. “That was the plan originally, but Charlie has to attend a meeting at UCL on short notice, so he’ll try to catch the train in…” - Nick takes out his phone to check the time, a picture of him and Charlie at London Pride appearing when he swipes up - “… two hours. We figured it was probably too late for him to come over after catching up with his parents, so we won’t see each other until tomorrow.”
“Well, I’m sorry for the two of you, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t happy to get a little more time with my favourite commis de cuisine. You’re gonna help me decorate all this, right?” she asks with a grin, her eyes flickering over to the batches on the counter.
“Of course I will,” Nick says, putting an arm around her shoulder, “we wouldn’t want to attract the wrath of one Ivy Olsson, would we? I’m glad she has something to enjoy, it’s probably not going to be easy for her when Darcy leaves for their apprenticeship at the literal other end of the earth.”
His mum gets up on her toes and places a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you, darling.” She unties her apron and folds it over one of the bar stools. “Now come on - we’ve got about twenty-two minutes to start catching up. Let’s have a cuppa on the terrace, the magnolia is rather magnificent this year. It’s like it wants to show off or something.”
“Sounds like a plan, Mum,” Nick agrees as he turns around to grab their S and N cups from the cupboard.
🍂🍃🍂
“Emma is moving out of the flat this weekend,” Sarah tells him after Nick has dutifully marvelled at the magnolia, which seriously seems to have set out to come in first in this spring’s Miss Flora. They are sitting in the comfy and familiar chairs on the terrace, their steaming cups cooling on the table in front of them.
“Really?” Nick’s face scrunches up. “What did David do this time to put off yet another girlfriend?”
“Oh, please don’t be like that, Nicky, your brother is truly heartbroken right now,” his mother scolds him. She conspiratorially leans over and lowers her voice, although there is no one else around and, as usual, Henry is probably not going to tell on them. Good boy.
“She cheated on him.” As Nick looks at her incredulously, she adds, now clearly whispering, “With her boss!”
There is no mockery in her voice. She is naturally offended by the pain and breach of trust her son has to endure. She is hurting for him, as any mother does when her child experiences something like that. Probably even more because she’s been in his place.
At her revelation Nick’s brows shoot up to his hairline, as if trying to find the perfect place for a game of hide and seek.
“Her boss? Seriously?!”
He and his brother aren’t the best of friends and probably never will be, but they’ve at least come a half-decent way since David went full homophobic prick after he first found out about Nick’s sexuality. Understandably, Nick doesn't feel the most comfortable and relaxed around his brother, but he must admit that over the years, David really has been trying to be more open-minded and at times even supportive. And quite honestly? Nobody deserves to be cheated on. That’s like, the worst thing Nick can imagine happening to him. He doesn’t know what he’d do if Charlie was ever to… nope! Not going down that road again.
He once had a nightmare about this, and luckily Charlie was there to anchor him again, and to convince him how absurd the notion was to begin with. Nick knows their relationship is steady and stable and strong, and that there is literally no scenario in the world that would result in them breaking up over cheating. That night though, the dream had made him so vulnerable he couldn't stop himself from profusely apologising to Charlie over and over again for even dreaming up something like that, ugly-crying into his boyfriend’s arms for hours on end. They ended up deciding that for the foreseeable future, Nick would refrain from watching Cruel Intentions before bed - no matter how hot end-of-millennium Ryan Phillippe might have looked back then.
Even thinking back to that frightening night, in which his fears and helpless desperation ultimately turned out to be the products of a literal bad dream, Nick feels a lump form in his throat. He can’t imagine what David must feel like right now. Is he going to be there when Emma comes to get all her stuff? How do you decide who gets to keep what after living together for almost three years (which, as he now notices, is probably the longest his brother has ever been in a relationship)? Does his brother have someone, presumably a mate, he can talk about all this to?
Nick realises he actually feels sorry for David.
Huh.
He inhales sharply. “Daaaamn, Emma… Why’d she do that? I really liked her.”
“I did, too”, Sarah agrees. “At least she was able to maintain a conversation, unlike the one before her - was it… Laura?”
“Yes, and she didn’t want to convince you about the perks of pyramid schemes as his girlfriend in uni did. I wanna say… Bridget?” Nick tries to remember, searching his brain for a distinctive memory to support his claim.
“Oh God, that’s right, Bridget - I completely forgot about her!” Sarah snickers. “And Emma never made me want to hit my head with a hammer every time she opened her mouth, as did-” Sarah stops and clasps her hands over her mouth, quite obviously surprised by her own chutzpah.
Nick smirks, immediately knowing who she’s thinking of. “As did who, Mum?” he asks, pretending to be oblivious.
“Nope,” his mother says, shaking her head and popping the p, “not gonna happen!”
“Just say it. I know you want to!” he sing-songs, prodding her.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she declares innocently, pressing her quivering lips together to suppress a laugh.
“Come on, Mum, you can do it, I believe in you! Who made you want to peel off your own skin whenever she let her lovely voice fill the room?” Nick puts his hand on her arm supportively.
She looks amused and then - finally - gives in: “Ok, fine. It was Barbra.“ She pronounces the word nasally, emphasis on the first syllable and drawing it out, making it sound like ‘Baaaar’bruh’.
Nick clutches the imaginary pearls around his neck, looking appalled. “Sarah Nelson,” he gasps, “are you actually making fun of one of your eldest’s former liaisons?”
She gives him a stern look: “Never!”
For about three seconds, they stare at each other, ostensibly frozen. Then they both, exaggerating to the fullest and sounding theatrically indignant, belt out as if from one mouth “NEVAAAAAH!!!!” before exploding into laughter until they’ve got tears streaming down their cheeks.
“I, I don’t even know what it was supposed to sound like!” Sarah breaks out into another fit of giggles while wiping her eyes with the back of her hands. Then she clears her throat and takes a grounding breath. “Just to be clear though, I’d never be making fun of her if this pronunciation thing had been due to a speech or hearing impediment. But I guess she just wanted to come over as, I don’t know, posh or something? I honestly don’t want you to think I’d-”
“It’s alright, Mum”, Nick intervenes, “I know what you mean. If you hadn’t gone for it, I definitely would have.” He squeezes her hand before reaching for his tea, taking a first careful sip. It’s the exact right temperature, and he can immediately taste the additional spoon of honey she added just for him. It tastes like security in a cup.
Still looking rather uneasy, Sarah takes up her cup as well. “Seriously, Nicky, David is genuinely devastated, I’ve never seen him like this.” For a short moment, the image of David dressed in sables, wailing like a nineteenth century mourner, flashes before Nick’s inner eye.
Focus, Nelson! He needs to get a grip on himself, his brother is obviously really going through it. And, just like that, the compassion he felt for David before their trip down memory lane, of the not exactly demure dating life of his brother, resurfaces in earnest.
“Yeah, this fucking sucks. Big time.”
Sarah looks like she wants to reprimand him for his language, but then decides against it. Instead, she hesitates before cautiously suggesting, “Maybe you could give him a call?”
He knows he won’t.
She knows he won’t.
They aren’t close enough for that.
David didn’t let him know about the break-up, either because he didn't feel safe enough to tell Nick or because it didn't feel like something he needed to inform his estranged little brother about in the first place. It’s not like they have weekly calls scheduled, anyway. But to humour her, and maybe himself as well, he takes another sip and nods.
“Yeah. Maybe I will.”
🍃🍂🍃
As the timer goes off, they head back inside. Nick puts on the oven gloves to take out the last two batches, which turn out to be crunchy peanut cookies and lemon lavender scones (Ha!), while Sarah is darting through the kitchen, grabbing colourful sprinkles from a cupboard, taking fondant out of the fridge and fetching chocolate coating from a drawer. She then goes over to a shopping bag that’s hanging on the door handle and beamingly produces a small cellophane bag containing little party picks looking like pride flags.
Nick chuckles. “Going all in, I see!”
“Of course, darling!” His mother bumps her shoulder to his arm somewhere around chest height - seriously, he has no idea how he got that tall - before adding “As you said, we’d better not disappoint Ivy!” She winks at him and opens the cupboard beneath the kitchen island, diving in for the pots.
They work in comfortable silence for some time, a well-rehearsed team in the kitchen for years. Nick knows where to look when she asks, “Do you know where I put the caramel dots?” and Sarah knows what he means when a certain word has temporarily eluded his memory and he asks, “Can you please hand me the-”, vaguely gesturing to a big pile of gadgets of which he means a very specific one, while simultaneously kneading the food colouring into the fondant. They present each other with whatever item they need before the other can finish their sentence.
It feels easy. It feels familiar. It feels good.
When there is only one batch of cupcakes left to decorate, Sarah picks up the Emma talk. “So I guess that’s one less person to schedule for Menorca this year, isn’t it?” she asks with the hint of a grin. Nick lets out a little snort - wasn’t his mother the one who pointed out the severity of his brother’s situation? He shrugs and starts to clear up the items no longer needed.
“By the way, Diane called the other day,” Sarah continues as Nick starts loading the dishwasher. “She wants to book plane tickets for all of us and to confirm this year’s renting period with Gloria and Pedro within the next two weeks, so can you please finally tell me when the kid’s rugby camp will be done for the summer and you’ll be able to join us? I assume Charlie will come too, right?“ She starts to sprinkle the cupcakes as she talks. “It’s always such a blast to have all my favourite boys around me at once, even if only for a few short weeks in the summer!”
For a minute, she is completely absorbed in the task at hand, reaching into the little bag in her left hand and grabbing some sprinkles between the thumb and index finger of her right. Nick watches her from his dishwasher-stacking position below as she carefully spreads the colourful pellets - it’s kind of mesmerising. Suddenly, she stops her motions abruptly, looking up, but nowhere in particular.
“Seriously, Nicky, I don’t want to have to tell Diane to simply hang in there, so please just text me or her within the next week when you will be available in August, okay?” She immediately goes back to work, the serious mum conveying a clear message posture he remembers getting sometimes as a kid instantly gone.
He feels a light flutter in his belly. It’s a combination of anticipation and giddy nervousness. Nick’s been waiting all afternoon to tell her his news. He’s been bursting to tell her for some time now, actually. He didn’t want to take up all the space for himself today, though. They haven’t seen each other for over two months and he’s known for about three weeks now, so what’s waiting another two hours while she updates him on what’s been going on with her?
It isn’t some generous gesture of the loving son coming home once in a while and dutifully asking - he genuinely wants to know. Of course he already knows most of what has happened around here (they FaceTime, remember?), but being in the same room with Sarah Nelson as she re-enacts Henry fighting the neighbours’ lawn sprinkler is truly a sight to behold, and clearly worth holding back his news just a little bit longer.
Nick guesses now that his mother is basically serving him the perfect opportunity on a golden plate, it’s finally time to reveal the secret he had a hard time keeping. And boy, was it hard (no pun intended).
Because he wanted so desperately for her to know. Charlie even more, of course, but that will have to wait another 18 hours. Over the last weeks, it has taken every inch of self-restraint Nick could come up with to convincingly declare that “No, nothing special” had happened and he was just “busy as usual, maybe a little stressed out” by the upcoming exams. But he’s done with that now. With the exams, as well as with all those little white lies.
Nick hasn’t exactly prepared a speech though.
So, he inhales and goes with the first thing that comes to his mind, hoping to sound nonchalant: “Well, I don't know about Charlie, but I probably won’t be able to join you this year.” He closes the dishwasher for now and stands up.
“Oh, baby,” Sarah promptly commiserates, still scattering tiny rainbow coloured marbles over the cupcakes. “Was the rugby camp moved to the back of the school holidays again?”
“No, it wraps up regularly at the end of July,” he responds and clears his throat. “It’s just -“
The millisecond of hesitation it takes Nick to contemplate on how to announce this, is all the time her maternal instinct needs to kick in, and she immediately looks up at him, stopping mid-sprinkle.
“Nicky, what’s wrong? Did something happen?” Her brows furrow, concern clouding her features.
“No! No, no, nonono! It’s good, Mum. Pretty awesome, actually. I’m sorry, Mum, I didn’t want to upset you. Please don’t worry!”
Stepping beside her, he takes the tiny bag of sprinkles out of her hands, and puts it on the counter. Taking her hands in his, he looks at her and hopes his eyes will reassure her.
He feels her relax a bit and mischievously explains. “It’s just that I won’t have the time to go. Because… I’ll be busy unpacking by then.”
She glances up at him, confused. He tries to be more distinct without blurting it all out at once. “I mean, at least I hope I will be. Or maybe I’ll still be packing up my stuff in Leeds at that point, who knows?”
Sarah shakes her head, a light smile accompanying her still irritated face now. “No. Not following.”
Ok, so it’s time to stop making a show out of it and just let her know the score.
“Mum, I got accepted to UCL.” There’s that flutter in his belly again. “I’m moving to London for my PGCE.”
There. He said it. Wow - that feels good.
Not in a ‘Finally said it out loud and got it off my chest’ way, but in a ‘It’s so great to be finally able to share this with anybody, but especially you!’ way.
His mother’s reaction just adds to the rewarding feeling of ultimately having told someone:
”Oh, baby, that’s wonderful! Congratulations!” she happily exclaims as she gets on her toes and throws her arms around his neck. “I’m so happy for you!” she goes on, pulling him down into a hug. “And for Charlie, too! And you know what?” She asks and pulls back to look at him. He shakes his head. “I’m happy for me as well - you’ll finally be within an hour’s drive from me! Oooh, that’s really good news, sweetie!” She seriously jumps up and down a bit, clapping her hands excitedly.
Nick laughs and pulls her in again, burying his nose in her hair and inhaling deeply. The soothing flutter inside him expands with every breath, joy spreading through his whole body. It’s not excessively loud or bursting out of him. It’s comforting. It feels wholesome.
“Thank you,” he murmurs into his mother’s hair. He truly is grateful. Not for her reaction only, but for her as well, for the supportive, unconditionally loving parent she’s been to him ever since an early September morning twenty-one years ago.
Sharing his news with her and getting such a positive response - it’s amazing. It feels so good to finally be able to let her in on what’s been occupying his every waking thought ever since he got the call. Who is he kidding? It’s been way longer than that. Nick can’t help but wonder what telling Charlie tomorrow might feel like, now that the dress rehearsal went as splendidly as it did.
Letting go of him, his mother tends to the remaining cupcakes and then starts putting away the last items of their decorating spree. Nick leans back against the kitchen island. Rinsing the spatula before putting it into the dishwasher, his mother throws him a loving look. “How long have you known?”
Nick needs a moment to understand what she means. “What? Oh! Yeah, they called me like three weeks ago? But I had some further interviews in the preceding weeks. And I had to get additional letters of recommendation from two more lecturers and even map out a proposal for a hypothetical teaching series they assigned me.”
”Oh darling, no wonder you were always too busy to come down here!” Sarah sounds understanding and compassionate while she’s trying to reach the cover of the cupcake container on the highest shelf - a rather futile endeavour, although it is very sweet to watch as she tries to lengthen herself by getting on her toes, still not able to grab it.
“You could say so,” Nick agrees, lifting himself from the island. He takes the cover from the cupboard without even having to fully extend his arm and hands it to her, smirking. “Yeah, it’s been some eventful weeks.”
“Thanks, dear.” Sarah covers the batch and opens the fridge, searching for a space to store it.
“What did Charlie say when you told him?” she asks as she busily rearranges the jam to make more room, “he surely must be over the moon!” She takes the covered batch and puts it into the fridge. “You two have managed this whole long distance thing way better than most other couples your age would have, but it must be a relief to finally be able to put that behind you!” she goes on cheerfully before closing the fridge and untying her apron. She puts it on its designated hook and turns around, her eyes gleaming.
“So, what does he think? Is he excited? Did you tell him immediately after you got the call?”
“I, um, I-” Nick stammers, biting his lower lip.
Sarah clocks him on the spot.
“You’ve told him, haven’t you?” Her tone drops instantly. She sounds quite serious for someone who was giddily hopping around her own kitchen mere moments ago.
When Nick still doesn’t answer, his hand reaching for the back of his neck instead, she takes another step into his direction, standing with her hands on her hips, sounding incredulous. “Nicholas Nelson, please tell me you told your boyfriend that the two of you will finally be living in the same city again before you told your mother!”