Charlie: Nick And

The second crack was deeper. Nick started cancelling plans. He’d say he had practice, then Charlie would see him walking home alone, shoulders hunched. He’d pull away from kisses in the music block, citing a teacher walking by. Charlie began to feel like a ghost haunting his own relationship. The old thoughts crept back—the ones that whispered You’re too much. You’re too needy. You’re a burden.

Charlie felt the ground vanish. “What?” Nick and Charlie

The confession happened in the art block, under the cold fluorescent lights that made everything look like a crime scene. Nick had just tackled a Year 13 who’d called Charlie a slur. His knuckles were red, his chest was heaving, and his eyes were a storm of fury and fear. The second crack was deeper

The first crack came when Nick refused to hold Charlie’s hand in front of Harry Greene and the rugby lads. Charlie saw the flash of panic in Nick’s eyes, the way his hand twitched and then dropped. He understood. Coming out wasn’t a single event; it was a thousand small decisions, repeated daily. But understanding didn’t stop the cold, familiar ache in his chest. He’d pull away from kisses in the music