Nick And - Charlie

“The lying. The sneaking around. My mum asked if you were my boyfriend and I said no, Charlie. I said no . Like you were nothing. I hate myself. I hate who I become when I’m scared. You deserve someone who doesn’t have to think about holding your hand.”

It imploded on a rainy Thursday. Charlie had waited for Nick by the gates for forty minutes. When Nick finally appeared, his face was pale, his eyes red-rimmed. Nick and Charlie

Yours (if you’ll still have me), Nick Charlie read the letter three times. The first time, his hands shook. The second, he cried. The third, a small, fragile smile cracked the numbness. “The lying

“I want to be,” Nick’s voice was a raw whisper. “I’m not ashamed of you, Charlie. I’m scared. I’ve never been… me. Not this version of me. Everyone has an idea of who Nick Nelson is. The rugby lad. The straight guy. What if I tell them, and they just… disappear?” I said no