Falling (a Heartstopper fanfiction)

Respect

Nick had been uncharacteristically distracted all day. First in form, when Charlie couldn't get more than monosyllables out of him, and then over text. He'd met Charlie at the door of his house with little more than a quick smile, and once they were in his room, he'd said he had a lot of homework to get to. But he wasn't doing homework; he was pacing the floor, back and forth, looking more angry than Charlie had ever seen him.

For once, Charlie was pretty sure whatever was bothering Nick didn't have anything to do with him, but he hated to see Nick, usually so sunny and cheerful, this upset. He sat in the beanbag chair in the corner of Nick's room, waiting to see if the pacing would calm Nick down, but it only seemed to be making it worse. "Nick," he said at last. "You're going to wear a hole in the floor."

"What? Oh. Right. I just—" He took a deep breath and tried to calm down. "Sorry. Usually when I have a bad day, I go to rugby, and that helps, but today—" He gestured outside to the rainy afternoon.

Suddenly so much about Nick made sense to Charlie. How different he was on the rugby pitch than he was in the rest of his life, how well he played, how completely not like a rugby player he was off the pitch. "Anything bothering you in specific?" he asked.

Nick started to say no, but then he turned and looked at Charlie, as if realising for the first time that it was okay to talk about the things that bothered him. "It's Harry, and his stupid, stupid jokes and—why does he care who I go out with? What is it to him? If I had started dating Imogen, would Harry have wanted to come along to watch?"

Charlie suspected Harry might have wanted to. Maybe to learn some things; maybe because he had a crush on Nick so secret he didn't know it himself. It wouldn't surprise Charlie at all if that were true.

Not waiting for a response, Nick kept going. "The whole lot of them, snickering and laughing about things that aren't their business! Why don't they just go out and get a life of their own?"

"Because no one likes them," Charlie said.

"What?" Nick, halted in the middle of his tirade, turned and frowned at him.

"No one likes them, Nick. There's a reason why they always only hang out with each other. None of Harry's money or his surface popularity can buy him what you have."

"What's that?"

"Respect. You're a nice person. People like you. On the rugby pitch, you're the leader. And it's not just because you're good at it, it's because you pay attention and you know where people work best and the lads trust you." In some ways it surprised him that Nick was so unaware of the dynamics among his friend group—but Nick had never really had to study other people or learn to understand what set them off. He took people at face value because he'd never had a reason not to. "Would you follow Harry on the pitch?"

Nick thought about that. "No."

"Neither would anyone else. Harry wants to be like you." Charlie shook his head. "You know if you wanted to lead that group the way Harry does, he'd be just another one of them, following you around."

"That's not true."

"It is." Charlie got up and came toward him. "You're so amazing, and you don't even know it. You're nice, and you're funny, and you listen when people talk to you."

"Anyone can do that."

It was lovely that Nick thought so, but Charlie knew better. "Most don't choose to. Or they don't know how." Nick was ducking his head, embarrassed at the praise, so Charlie smiled, stepping closer and changing the tone of the conversation. "You know what else you have that Harry doesn't have."

"What's that?"

"You're incredibly hot."

Nick blushed, shaking his head. "Come on. I'm just normal. I look like everyone else." He ruffled Charlie's hair lightly. "Not like you. You're all cool and adorable."

Well, that was lovely to hear. "You are a dork. A very hot dork."

Nick smiled his gorgeous lopsided smile and bent his head toward Charlie's. "You know," he said teasingly, "I don't think that's possible. That's one of those—what's the word for two words that don't go together?"

"Oxymoron."

"Right."

"So you're saying you're an oxymoron." Charlie grinned impishly at him.

"What? No." Nick frowned.

Charlie laughed, and he pulled Nick's head back down, up on his tiptoes to kiss him.

Something today gave an added intensity to their kisses. Maybe it was the excess energy from anger Nick couldn't work out on the pitch; maybe it was the intoxication of the exchanged compliments, knowing each of them found the other attractive; maybe it was just Nick. But they went on and on, lost in each other, in just being together.

Eventually, they were stopped by Nellie's scratch on the door. Charlie checked his phone while Nick opened the door for the dog. "Nick."

"Yeah?"

"Do you know we were kissing for half an hour?"

Nick raised his eyebrows. "Didn't feel like half an hour."

"No." Charlie smiled and reached for Nick's hand. "Do you feel better?"

"Better?" Nick repeated.

"Yes. About ... Harry and everything."

"Oh. Yes, I suppose." He looked down at Charlie. "Do you really think I'm better-looking than Harry?"

"Yes! Absolutely. That's not even a question. Also, I believe the word I used was 'hot'."

"You know you're ridiculous, don't you?"

Charlie laughed. "Do you think I'd spend half an hour kissing someone I didn't think was hot?"

"I certainly hope not."

"Then there you have it."