Kaleidoscope (a Heartstopper fanfiction)

Guilt

Nick found Harry and the boys a couple of flights of stairs down. Sai, Christian, Otis, Jermaine. All of them more Nick's friends than Harry's, or so he would have said. Tonight, though, they stood in a line facing him, silent, letting Harry talk, while Nick tried to focus on what Harry was saying and couldn't stop thinking instead of what had just happened with Charlie.

"Nicholas, I think you were way out of line before. It's my party, for one thing, and I think you're taking everything we said way too seriously. It's not like the little year 10 kid cares what we think. And like, it's all just banter, isn't it? I mean, the lads can see it's banter." He gestured to the others, who didn't move at all. Were they even real? Tonight, Nick wouldn't have been surprised to find out they weren't. "You can see it's banter," Harry continued. "There's no need to start anything, just 'cause you're in a bad mood at my party."

"Yeah." It wasn't worth arguing with him. And maybe Nick had been hasty. He and Harry had been friends for a long time. He couldn't have been this bad all along—maybe Harry was just blowing off steam because it was his party. "Guess I was just in a mood."

"Yeah. Exactly." Harry laughed. "So we're good?"

"Yeah." The others' faces all relaxed into smiles, as though everything was fine, normal, because Harry and Nick had made up, and it could all be the same as before. But Nick didn't want to go with them. He wanted to go back up the stairs to that room and find Charlie and ... figure out what happened next. "Just going to go find the loo."

He walked away and left them there, hurrying back up the stairs and down the corridor—into an empty room. Charlie was gone.

Nick called his name anyway, but it was much too late.

He stood there, helplessly, alone. This was all his fault. He hadn't known what he wanted, and he'd gone and messed this all up and hurt Charlie when that was the last thing he'd wanted to do. That kiss had been—amazing. But it hadn't been worth hurting the one person who made everything make sense. His best friend, his ... He didn't have a word for how much Charlie suddenly mattered to him.

Nick put his hands round the back of his neck, hiding his face from the empty room that knew what he had done. He could feel his throat tightening and aching, and the one thing he absolutely could not do was stay in here and start to cry in the middle of Harry Greene's party with every student from miles around dancing downstairs. Because if he started crying now, he wouldn't be able to stop.

He dug his phone out of his pocket, hoping to see a text from Charlie, but there was nothing except a stream of "Where are you?" texts from Imogen. He felt badly about that, but he couldn't talk to her, or anyone, right now. Instead, he texted his mum for a ride. When she texted back in concern that he wanted to leave so early he told her he didn't feel well. Which was absolutely true.

Nick snuck out of the party, glad that he didn't see anyone on the way, and he stood outside waiting for his mum, ducking into the car when she pulled up so she couldn't see his face.

"You need anything, Nicky?"

"No." He kept his face turned away. Tears were welling up in his eyes, and he kept swiping at them to try to keep them back. Even more than he hated to cry, he hated to let anyone see him crying, hated to burden anyone else with his inability to manage his feelings.

"Did something happen at the party?" his mum asked, concerned.

Had something happened? If she only knew. He gave a laugh that turned into a sob, and said savagely, "No!"

At home, he tried to run up the stairs and avoid questions, but his mum stopped him. "You going to be okay?"

He pressed his lips together to hold back the tears. "Fine."

"You'd tell me if there was something I needed to know?"

Nick nodded, but he wasn't going to be able to keep from crying much longer. He turned from her and ran up the stairs, throwing himself down next to the bed, just as he lost the fight and started to sob.

He hadn't cried like this in—well, he couldn't remember how long. Guilt and confusion and longing and excitement and fear and anger, at himself and at Harry, all mingled together and he was lost in the middle.

At last, his door opened a crack and Nellie pushed her nose through, coming over to him and leaning against his leg. Nick put his arm around her, feeling the flow of tears start to slow. Holding on to Nellie, he was able to think again.

He had to talk to Charlie. Not text—he had to go over there, first thing in the morning, and apologise. And somehow, between now and then, he had to decide what he wanted.

Things had gone too far for them ever to go back to what their friendship had been. Neither of them would be able to forget that kiss. And Nick didn't want to. He wanted, in fact, to kiss Charlie again. But how could he, and not know who he was? He wasn't even sure he was gay. He only knew that he liked Charlie, that he couldn't stop thinking about him or wanting to touch him, that he wanted to be around him all the time. Did that mean he was gay? Did that mean he wanted to go out with Charlie? Nick didn't know, and he didn't want to lead Charlie on or promise to be something he didn't even know if he was.

But not even trying to be with Charlie as more than friends meant not being Charlie's friend anymore, either. How could he hang out with Charlie and constantly fight his own feelings? That wasn't fair to either of them. The idea of not being friends with Charlie made everything seem so suddenly empty. Was it only a couple of months ago that they'd met in form? Nick couldn't remember what life had been like without their friendship. He didn't want to.

The swirl of questions and what ifs and his terrible sense of guilt over the way tonight had ended followed Nick as he put on his pyjamas and got into bed, and filled all of the few fitful hours of sleep he managed to get.