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Traffic streams down the road, and Nick's heartbeat slows and accelerates in rhythm with the movement of Charlie's foot on the pedals. The car's steady rocking makes his eyelids heavy, and sleep laps at the edges of his thoughts. He tries to resist it with everything he has.
Whenever Charlie steps on the gas, there’s a lurch in his chest that reminds him not to give in. He doesn't want to succumb to the darkness. Too much of the past year went by without his awareness. Christmas and spring and the first hot days of the year. He doesn't want to be unconscious of time and space again. Every minute he spends with his eyes closed seems dangerous now, like the first step on the way back to that scary, blurred place.
Stop torturing yourself, Charlie snarled at him a few weeks ago, when Nick stayed awake for thirty-eight hours straight. They had a fight then, the nastiest they've had since his doctors finally found a treatment that works, and then Charlie started crying and didn’t stop until he passed out. Things between them have been… fragile ever since then. Nick can't help but think of that argument as a breaking point.
His therapist said it wasn't a bad thing. It might be a sign that Charlie’s finally letting himself feel all the things he bottled up during this horribly difficult year. He might be coming out of the crisis response that kept him so determined all through it. Nick doesn’t know, but he hopes she’s right.
He hasn't shed a tear in over four months.
It's probably not normal. He needs to talk about it with Charlie, but he can't bring himself to do it. It's easier to carry on as if everything's all right. To pretend that the waves aren't crashing over the sides of his boat.
You think that once you start getting better, it's smooth sailing until the world goes back to normal, but it isn’t like that. He didn't consider that some of the hardest conversations and the most disappointing setbacks would come only after they found a cure. He wasn't prepared for that, but he understands it now. It's a whirlpool on the way in and a storm on the way out, the sea sometimes deep enough that he thinks he'll drown. And he'll never be the same person he used to be, even if he gets to the shore.
"Hey." Charlie's soft voice drifts into his ears. A hand lands on his thigh and squeezes. "We’re almost there."
"What?" Nick croaks, opening his eyes to blink at the unfamiliar green fields they're moving past. It takes him a second to remember that they're in Wales, going to a wedding. The trees on the side of the road are a blur of yellows, reds and browns. A glimpse of the cold blue sky peeks out from behind the autumn clouds.
Charlie's hand moves back to the steering wheel, leaving only a fleeting warmth behind. "You fell asleep."
"Oh." Agitation simmers in Nick's chest. He didn't even realize that his thoughts about seas and shipwrecks were loose dreams, that the easy flow of ideas was a sign that his mind let go of the world outside. The helplessness of it is lead in his veins.
Charlie gives him a concerned glance, but he lets the silence between them linger until they reach the parking lot of the manor his cousin is getting married in. When the car stops, he cups Nick’s face and presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. He looks into Nick's eyes for a moment before leaning in once more, brushing the curve of Nick’s lips this time. "Ready?"
Nick sighs. "As ready as I'll ever be."
It's a grandiose wedding, at least to Nick's standards. There are elaborate flower arrangements and gold-tinted decorations everywhere he looks, porcelain on the dinner tables, doves flying during the ceremony and three different unity rituals before the couple finally say their vows. The estate is gorgeous, but he feels out of place there, and he suspects most of the other guests do too. It's a lot to take in. He doesn't understand why some people feel the need to make a show out of their love, but he has never been big on public displays anyway, so maybe his opinion is irrelevant.
It's inevitable that his thoughts drift to the ring on Charlie’s finger. What kind of wedding does he want? And, the question that makes his chest tighten - does he still want it? Nick wouldn't blame him if he changed his mind.
Hundreds of guests mingle around while they wait for their turn to take photos with the newlyweds. Most of them are unfamiliar, some look judging. Nick can't help but shrink in on himself, even though his suit is new and doesn’t hang on him like a parachute. He hasn't been in the company of more than ten people since he got sick last May. The crowd feels overwhelming. Does he stand out? Do they see it in him, in the paleness of his skin or the bags under his eyes? Do they watch him with pity?
It's so strange how he used to support Charlie in these situations and now he's leaning on him. He wonders if that makes him a disappointment.
As they sit down at the dinner table, Charlie reaches out to hold his hand. He pulls it into his lap without thinking, rubbing Nick's knuckles, out of sight from the people around them, like he used to do in high school. It's probably not even a conscious move at this point, and that realization makes Nick unbearably fond. He turns his hand around and thumbs at the small, body-warm piece of metal on Charlie's finger, just to reassure himself that it's there.
"I saw you eyeing those doves." He whispers into Charlie's ear.
Charlie snickers. "Shut up."
"Or was it the tree watering ceremony?" Nick smiles. "Did it also remind you of -"
"- the love fern? God, yes." Charlie grins back at him, referring to that iconic McConaughey movie they watched a few years ago. He glances at Nick’s lips. "You're a dork."
"Why? You thought the same thing."
"But I didn't bring it up!"
They laugh and lean in for that kiss, but it's little more than a peck because Charlie's parents choose that moment to take their seat beside them. Even after all these years, Nick still turns bright red whenever they catch him being affectionate with their son. Julio pats his shoulder as though he understands, and that makes it even worse, but then Jane starts talking about the decorations and the embarrassment fades away. Nick lets Charlie’s hand go and turns to Tori to catch up with her. Everything seems to be going well - until Charlie’s great-aunt comes over to the table.
"And who are you?" He squints at Nick with the same severe expression Charlie's mum has.
"He's my fiancé, Nick. You've already met." Charlie says with thinly-veiled exasperation. Fiancé, Nick's mind echoes, and his heart skips a beat.
"I don't recall." She says grouchily. "Wasn't your boyfriend a rugby player? Some bulky lad?"
Nick’s pleasant mood plummets. The words hit him like a bucket of icy water. The air around the table seems to freeze.
"Yes, Nick used to play." Charlie says. His voice is calm, but careful. "He quit last year."
"Pity." She sniffs, then gives Nick a smile, gesturing with her shaky hands. "Well, if you can take some advice from an old hag like me, eat more red meat, dear. You look far too thin for your frame."
Nick wants to sink under his chair and disappear. He doesn't know which is worse, the way Jane avoids looking at him or the compassion in Julio's eyes. He gives her a tight smile. She means well. "Thank you. I will."
He can’t let go of his self-deprecating thoughts after that throughout the entire dinner.
He's angry at himself for being ashamed. His therapist says it's common in people who suffer from a serious illness, especially if it affects their appearance, but he's still frustrated about it.
"You internalize the idea that you did something to cause it or you aren't doing enough to cure it." She explained to him when he first brought it up. "When you feel like that, try to identify what you're afraid of. Talk to a loved one about it. Separate grief and shame - it's okay to be sad about the changes in your life. And it's okay to ask for reassurance."
Nick knows this. He understands it on a theoretical level. But in practice, there’s a block inside him, a dam, and grief, shame and fear are one tangled swirl behind it. He cannot separate them. This is why he asked Charlie not to tell the people who don't already know. It would just make things awkward, and he wouldn't be able to think of anything else the whole night.
"Oh my God, Nick." Charlie nudges his elbow, jostling him out of his thoughts. He pushes his mint chocolate cake towards Nick's plate. "Try this."
Nick rests his arm over the back of Charlie's chair as he leans closer and cuts a sizable chunk with his fork. He laughs at Charlie’s playful protest and pops it in his mouth.
"Wow." He makes an appreciative noise as he chews, reaching for another bite, and Charlie lets him, not putting up even a token bit of resistance this time.
He watches Nick with his blue eyes glittering in the light of the crystal chandelier. "We should have this at our wedding too." He says softly, and when Nick looks up at him, his lips curl into a smile. "But no ferns."
Nick chuckles, and the shame in him recedes to the back of his mind. It coils up like a snake waiting to strike again, but he can ignore it for now. As long as Charlie keeps looking at him like this, he has nothing to be afraid of. "What about doves?"
Charlie snorts.
Later in the evening, as the guests move to the dance floor and Charlie's dragged away by his cousin, he stays at their table with Tori. Her presence is a blessing when the older guests flock there and start a complaint circle, discussing their various medical problems and the shortcomings of the NHS. He hates that he can relate to them. He's too young for his life to revolve around hospital stories and friends he made at the ward. He shouldn't have to know what it feels like when six physicians stand around you, looking at each other in puzzlement. It's unfair.
He has never been more thankful that he and Tori get along. He might not survive the evening if he had to participate in another conversation led by Charlie's great-aunt.
He's not sure how much time has passed when suddenly, arms wrap around him from behind and familiar curly locks tickle his temple. He raises a hand to hold Charlie's wrist.
"Come dance with me." Charlie says, his lips moving against Nick’s cheek.
"You know I'm a terrible dancer." Nick answers, because he doesn’t want to say he can't.
Charlie pulls at his hand. "Just one dance. They’re only playing slower songs now."
Nick glances at Tori. "Is it okay -"
"Go." She shoos them away, deadpan as always. "I can handle them on my own."
They can only wish her good luck.
The dance floor is bathed in muted purple and gold, dim enough to create an illusion of intimacy. Tiny lights glow under their feet as if they're walking on the stars. The DJ switches to a new song, and as the first notes of Reality drift from the speakers, Charlie folds an arm around Nick's shoulder and pulls their joined hands up to his chest. When Nick holds him around the waist, he can feel the warmth of Charlie's body through his dress shirt. They sway gently with the melody, in their own bubble at the edge of the crowd. Charlie's eyes never leave Nick's face.
He's so beautiful.
Nick’s composure cracks. He buries his face in Charlie’s neck and breathes him in, the scent of home. "I didn't think we'd get to do this again."
And instead of his usual vicious denial, Charlie tightens his grip around Nick. "Me neither."
There’s something painful in hearing those words that nevertheless feels like relief. He remembers their fight again and what his therapist said about coming out of a crisis, and he knows she was right. He can sense it in his heart that the vulnerable, fraying edges of their bond are exposed now. They can mend them, even if they can't heal Nick himself.
"Charlie, you can still be honest with me even when I don’t feel well. You don't have to keep this stuff to yourself."
Charlie takes his hand away to complete the full circle of their embrace until it’s less of a dance and more of a rocking hug. "It was just easier to carry on if I lied."
The admission reminds Nick of his dream about the sea. "I'm not okay."
"I know."
He tightens his arms around Charlie. "But I think I will be."
Charlie’s breath hitches. He strokes Nick’s nape and moves with him in silence to the rhythm of the song until the tune fades away and the next one starts.
"Can we leave, please?" Nick asks then, feeling anchored and lighter than a feather at the same time.
"Of course. Are you feeling sick?"
"No. I just want to be alone with you."
Charlie kisses his temple. "Okay."
Their hotel room is cozy and warm. After one look around, Nick already knows that Charlie booked it because it looks almost exactly like their bedroom back home, down to the colour of the curtains and the bedside lamp's shade. The thought fills him with fondness.
Charlie brings their overnight bag inside, then they hang their suit jackets and ties in the wardrobe and collapse side by side on the soft cover of the bed. Rain drums on the window. Nick picks up the lavender wand on his pillow and tickles Charlie's neck with it until he splutters a laugh and swats Nick away.
"I'm taking a shower." Charlie yawns and sits up. Before he could move towards the bathroom though, Nick grabs after him and catches his arm.
"What?" He smiles as Nick pulls him back down until they sit with their thighs pressed together, heads bowed.
"I'm not tired yet." Nick kisses the hinge of Charlie’s jaw, then his neck, right where his pulse beats.
"Oh, you aren't?" Charlie teases, and their mouths meet in a kiss.
It's deep and long enough to steal Nick's breath away. He tilts Charlie's head back and parts his lips gently, pushing and letting Charlie push back, his fingers tangled in Charlie's hair. When he pulls away, it's to find Charlie's eyes wide and round in question.
How silly is it that Nick is still scared of rejection?
"I want you." He whispers into the narrow space between them and feels the blow of Charlie's exhale on his skin.
Charlie presses their foreheads together and rolls his against Nick’s, his hands moving restlessly up Nick’s sides. "Say that again."
"I want you." Nick repeats with more confidence. He knows that Charlie likes to hear what he desires, but it has been so long, he can barely say it aloud. "I want to be inside you."
Charlie makes a sound somewhere between a gasp and a laugh. He clutches at Nick’s collar. "Okay."
"Okay?" Nick smiles, and they exchange messy, playful kisses as thunder roars outside. He strokes Charlie's thighs.
"Hm-m." Charlie grabs Nick's hands, pulling away. "Let me shower first."
"Do we have any lube?"
"I think we left some in there."
Following Charlie's gesture, Nick picks up the toiletry bag they brought and rifles through it, putting the small, half-full bottle he finds into Charlie's hand. There's nothing else in there that they could use.
He bites his lip. "No condom though."
Blushing, Charlie stands up and starts unbuttoning his shirt. "Dr. Munoz gave us the all-clear, didn't she? You’re not taking anything that could affect me anymore." That's all he says, then walks into the bathroom. "I'll be right back."
It takes just long enough that Nick gets truly nervous about it. Not counting a few handjobs here and there, they haven’t had sex in months. And even then, it was always very careful, with Charlie doing all the work and Nick just hoping he could maintain his erection long enough to satisfy him. He has been too sick and tired to be interested in it more often. Or, if his libido did show some signs of life, he struggled to hold on to it due to his treatment's side effects. The last time he actually took Charlie the way Charlie likes it was… God, an entire year ago.
But he's okay now, he tells himself. He wants it so much it hurts.
He takes his shirt off, strips the bedcover and pushes the blankets out of the way, then grabs the bottled water in their bag and swallows his evening pills. He doubts he'd remember to take them after. It's more than likely that he's not going to have any coherent thought left whatsoever.
Standing in front of the mirror, he gives himself a critical once-over. A ghost of his old self looks back. He's pale, and his joints look sharp without the thick muscles that used to cover his arms. He's so thin that he practically has a six pack under his prominent ribcage. It's one of the things he tries to joke about for Charlie's sake, but in reality, he hates it. He misses his own weight. His hair, at least, looks like it used to nowadays, and there's a flush on his cheeks… He hopes that will be enough. He hopes he can still make it good for the both of them.
He sits on the mattress and waits.
When Charlie comes out, he's only wearing a towel, and droplets of water roll down from his hair over the smooth skin of his shoulders. He puts the lube on the bedside table and stands between Nick’s legs, carding his fingers through Nick’s hair. Fragrant dampness evaporates from his skin in the cooler air of the room. When Nick hugs him around the waist, he climbs into Nick’s lap.
Nick looks up at him in awe. "Hi."
"Hi, sweetheart." Charlie murmurs and kisses him.
They hold and caress each other as they make out. Nick's palms run over the dip of Charlie's spine, his calves, the heels of his feet. He doesn't try to reach under the towel, not yet, just contents himself by putting his mouth on Charlie’s neck, then his chest, his nipples. Charlie's skin is so supple after his shower, soft and clean, that he wants to leave a love bite on it. He presses his teeth to the juncture of Charlie's neck and sucks, just long enough that his lips leave a spot of redness behind when he pulls away.
Charlie reaches between them and undoes Nick's belt and fly. "I had a really good day." He says as he pushes his hand into Nick's underwear and starts stroking him.
"Me too." Nick kisses into Charlie's shoulder, because despite his insecurities, it holds true. It was one of his most active days in the past few months. He slides his palms under the towel, over Charlie’s thighs.
With his free hand, Charlie cups Nick’s face. "I'm proud of you."
Nick’s cock twitches in Charlie’s grip. He closes his eyes. "Charlie."
"What?" He can hear Charlie's smile. "You asked me to be honest."
"Yeah, but I didn’t do anything special today. Just normal things."
Charlie presses his lips to Nick's cheek and pushes him flat on his back. "I love doing normal things with you."
It has been so long since Nick had this much strength that he feels clumsy and out of practice as he and Charlie move around. Their bodies don't quite fit together the same way they used to, and there are bumping knees and some nervous laughter until they get rid of the rest of their clothes. It's funny how he's more self-conscious of his looks now than Charlie is. Nevertheless, he tries to act confident for Charlie's sake, and if they see each other’s fingers tremble, they don't mention it.
Nick trails his right hand down Charlie's back and finds him already wet and open for his fingers to slip in.
"I wanted to save us some time." Charlie says sheepishly, pushing into his touch, closing his eyes every now and then. Nick can't help but think it's because they both know Nick's arousal might not last long enough or he might get tired doing the prep, but he doesn’t say it. Charlie is nervous too, he doesn't need to ruin the moment with that.
"I'm ready." Charlie sighs, spreading lube over Nick's cock with one hand and holding Nick’s fingers in place with the other. He sits up fully, straddling Nick's thighs, and strokes Nick’s stomach.
"Wait." Nick stops him, his heart racing. "Can you - Can you lie down on your back?"
Charlie's mouth opens in surprise, but he closes it quickly. His voice is faint. "Okay."
They switch places.
When Nick pushes Charlie's knees apart and lies down on him, Charlie looks at him as if he doesn't believe he's real. His gaze stays locked with Nick's as Nick pushes in, and the first thrust tears a sharp moan from his lips. Redness spreads over his cheeks. When Nick kisses that blush, his eyes glaze over.
"Char." Nick whispers through a smile, rolling his hips in a slow, careful rhythm. The corners of his eyes sting. "Come on. You’re going to make me cry too."
"I'm sorry." Charlie's face crumples. He pulls Nick into a hug and sobs into his shoulder. "I missed you."
They both cry and laugh and kiss each other through it, and it's so messy, so erratic that Nick would be embarrassed if his overflowing cup of happiness had any space left for other emotions. He looks down at Charlie and sniffles, his eyelashes clumped together. "Why are we like this?"
Charlie laughs and wipes Nick's tears with his thumbs. "I love you so much."
They last longer than Nick expected. Perhaps because he doesn’t have the energy to go faster or because they keep stopping to just make out and rock together, but neither of them complains. Charlie gives him a hickey to match his and clings to him, content to let him do whatever he wants.
Outside, the storm breaks out in full force. The tap-tap-tap of rain on glass becomes louder, and the power goes out, plunging them in utter darkness. To Nick's senses, there's nothing but the warmth of Charlie's body, his moans and his soap-sweet smell. He adjusts the angle of his thrusts and noses at Charlie’s cheek until Charlie turns his head to kiss him.
"Does it feel good?" His lips brush Charlie's as they move.
"Yes." Charlie pushes his hand between their bellies. "Can you go harder?"
"Yeah."
They ride their pleasure like that, in a dark, quiet room, while the downpour rages on outside. Their bodies find the best way to fit together, and for a few minutes, Nick is able to forget about sickness and weight loss and death and just feel. Every time he makes Charlie’s breath stutter feels like a moment of reconnection. He holds Charlie tight and gives him everything he has until they reach the shaking peak together.
Afterwards, he rolls off and flops down on his back, seeing stars. He might have overdone it, he thinks when they refuse to go away, and standing up would surely mean he would pass out.
"Are you alright?" Charlie asks him as soon as he finds his voice.
"Yeah."
"Any dizziness?"
Sometimes it's as though Charlie is able to read his mind. "No. Just tired." He lies. It wouldn't do to ruin the moment when the discomfort will go away in a few seconds anyway.
Charlie sighs, running his palm down Nick’s sweaty chest. "That was so good." He presses a kiss to Nick’s temple, giggling. The rain quiets down outside. "I'm so happy."
It's the only thing that matters.
They let the afterglow envelop them in its timestopping force until the power comes back. Squinting in the glow of the bedside lamp, Nick pushes himself up gingerly, hoping to avoid the familiar nausea of overexertion. It wouldn't be the first he experienced that this month.
Charlie is already on his feet. His towel is wrapped around his hips because he doesn’t like it when Nick wants to look at him right after sex. He shoots Nick a smile from the doorway of the bathroom. "Come help me clean up."
Showering together isn't a sexy activity for them. Not since that period when Nick needed constant help with it. He should be used to it by now, but he still feels the pang of shame return as he follows Charlie into the shower stall. His muscles tremble like they used to after an overzealous rugby practice and he's so overheated he feels cold. He grits his teeth through it, but he knows there's no hiding it. He can barely keep himself upright.
The brilliant light in Charlie's eyes dims and an aching tenderness takes its place that just makes Nick want to cry again. They clean up, dry themselves, then go back to the bedroom to settle down to sleep. Exhausted, he sits down on the mattress. When he struggles to raise his arm enough to put his pyjama shirt on, Charlie helps him with it. They share a sad look.
"It's okay." Charlie says.
"No." Nick closes his eyes. He feels the brush of fabric as his shirt is rolled down his torso. "God, this is ridiculous."
"Well, you haven’t had a workout like this in months." Charlie sits down behind him and wraps him up in his arms. He pulls Nick back against his chest until Nick's head rests on his shoulder. "You just need to build up your strength again."
"I'm sorry."
"If I'm not allowed to say it, you aren't either."
Nick smiles. "Fine."
Charlie strokes his chest. When he speaks, there’s worry in his touch, but his words are calm and gentle like a lullaby. "Are you going to sleep tonight?"
Nick listens to the patter of the drizzle, the sound of the wind as the last waves of the storm pass by. "I'll try."