Kaleidoscope (a Heartstopper fanfiction)

Shirts

As soon as he got home that night, Nick panicked. What had he been thinking, inviting Charlie to that stupid party? Charlie was not going to fit in with Harry and the others, and Nick would have to choose between keeping him entertained and spending time with his other friends.

And what if he wanted to reach for Charlie's hand, or hug him, or ... more in the middle of the party and other people could tell? And then he had to try to explain to someone else what was happening to him when he didn't even know himself?

He remembered how disappointed he had been that Charlie might not go. If he had been that invested in Charlie going, how would he feel if Charlie didn't have a good time? What if Ben was there, and tried to start something? Or, worse, if Ben was there and Charlie was still hung up on him?

Nick felt a stab of jealousy at the idea, but he pushed it away. No, Charlie was too smart to keep being interested in someone who had been as terrible to him as Ben had.

But Charlie was right—this party really wasn't going to be his kind of thing. Why had Nick had to try to drag him into it, just like he'd dragged him into the rugby? He should text him right now and tell him not to come, that he wouldn't have a good time, save Charlie from a long and unpleasant night.

On the other hand, if Charlie was at the party, Nick would have someone to talk to. Someone he liked and trusted. Someone he ... well, someone he couldn't stop thinking about. What if sometime during the party they found a place by themselves and—

Beyond that Nick didn't dare to consider. Just teasing at the edge of the thought in his mind made his heart beat faster and his breath come short, just like when he had been on the sofa wanting so much to hold Charlie's hand.

It was funny how, even while the thought of Charlie and his own conflicted feelings had him so twisted about, he still looked forward to seeing Charlie a lot more than he looked forward to seeing any of the other boys. The scene in the locker room still bothered him—the way they were talking about the girls like the only thing that mattered about them was their relationship to Nick, their disregard for the fact that Nick wasn't joining in the conversation, or even whether Nick was interested in the girls in the first place ... The whole thing had been so awkward and really unnecessary. Charlie would never have done that. He was too thoughtful. He would have seen that someone was uncomfortable and stopped right there.

Which made Nick think that maybe the choice was a lot more simple than he'd given it credit for. Being around Charlie made him feel happy and comfortable, if confused and occasionally weird. Being around the other boys made him feel awkward and ill at ease. If that was the case, then it could only be a good thing having Charlie at the party, and Nick should stop worrying about it so much.

Saturday night came round, finally, which was a relief. Nick would be glad to just get to the party and stop having to think about it. Only, when he went into his closet, he realised for the first time that he really had nothing at all to wear.

He tried a couple of button-downs, but they were too formal, too much like school. And a pullover, but that was not formal enough, and it would be so hot at the party with all those people that he didn't want the warmer top. One of his favorite shirts had something that looked like ketchup on it, and another one he clearly hadn't worn since last summer, because it felt much too small.

Nick was wearing that one when he heard his mum call from the bottom of the stairs. "All right, Nicky?"

"Yeah, Mum. Only—" He came out of his room to show her the shirt. "What d'you think, is this too small?"

"I'd say so."

He groaned in frustration. "I have literally nothing to wear!"

Back to the closet. He looked at another shirt, but it looked so boring. At last, he found something that looked interesting but not too formal or informal or too overheating—a white T-shirt with a short-sleeve button-down over it. He thought the button-down must have been his brother David's at some point, since it wasn't the kind of thing he usually wore, but it looked good, and that was all that mattered.

Now for his hair. He went into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him, looking at himself in the mirror. So boring. His hair was just ... flat, like it was all the time, and he had no idea how to make it look interesting. Like Charlie's. Charlie's hair was never boring.

His mum called him from the stairs. "Nicky? You about ready?"

"No!"

"How much longer, do you think?"

He groaned in frustration. "As long as it takes to get my hair to do—something. Anything!"

She came and knocked on the door. "Can I see?"

He opened it for her and she studied his hair. "It looks the same, Nicky."

"I know!" He turned back to the mirror, lifting his bangs and letting them fall. "See? Boring. I look ... just like everyone else."

"Well, I wouldn't go that far." She edged into the bathroom next to him. "But if what you're looking for is some body, we could—do you mind if I try something?"

He frowned at her in the mirror, then nodded. She couldn't do any worse than he had.

"All right, then, let's see here."

Nick had no idea what she did, but when he studied himself critically in the mirror he didn't hate it. His hair looked ... different. More of a texture, maybe. "Thanks, Mum."

"Of course. Now, let me look at you."

He turned, and she surveyed him.

"Whoever she is, if she doesn't think you look good, she's not worth worrying about."

"MUM! What makes you think—" But he couldn't finish the sentence, because there was someone he wanted to think he looked good, and it wasn't a she, and he didn't know how to have that conversation with himself, much less with his mum.

She smiled, not following his frustration. "That there's someone you're trying to impress? Take a look at your room. How many shirts did you try on?"

"Only a few. Seven."

"Seven? Must be serious."

"Mum!" He rolled his eyes, pushing past her. "Can we just go?"

"I've been asking that for the last half hour."

In the car on the way over, he was nervous and excited and scared and nauseous, all rolled into one. If he hadn't invited Charlie, he'd have been claiming illness right now and going home. Of course, if he hadn't invited Charlie, he wouldn't be half so nervous.

"I'll be here at 11 sharp, all right?" his mum asked.

"All right."

"Have fun, Nicky."

He got out of the car and looked up at the hotel. He was here now—he just had to hope it wasn't going to be a disaster.