Kaleidoscope (a Heartstopper fanfiction)

Hot

It surprised Nick how glad he was to see Imogen at the table on Monday morning. He felt like maybe they were real friends now—he had trusted her with part of himself that had been hidden for a long time, and she had listened and understood. Maybe someday he could trust her with more; she could tell him things in return. It felt nice.

Harry leaned over them while they were talking, loudly demanding, "So. How was your date?"

Nick looked away, but Imogen spoke right up. "We decided we were better off as friends."

The boys all reacted to that way too much, in Nick's opinion. What was it to them, anyway?

"All right, what did Nick do?" Harry asked.

"Nothing. I just think I can do better."

That made them all laugh. Nick was grateful to Imogen for covering up whatever hurt she felt and standing up for him, but he hated that she had to, that his love life was such a topic of fascination for the others.

Harry wrapped an arm around Nick. "You're proper thick about girls sometimes, aren't you, mate?"

At least they gave it up, then, but Nick was annoyed. And by the time he'd come to the end of the day, he was downright angry about it.

Nick hated to be angry. It made him sick and nervous. He'd joined rugby as a child on his mother's suggestion, and found she was right, that it gave him an outlet for those feelings. You couldn't tackle other lads at full speed on the pitch for an hour after school and still come home angry.

But today there was no rugby, and he restlessly paced his room, fuming, while Charlie watched him from the beanbag chair. "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. "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 started to speak, but Nick was on a roll.

"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 quietly.

"What?"

"No one likes them, Nick. There's a reason they always only hang out with each other. None of Harry's money or his 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. Would you follow Harry?"

Harry's decisions on the pitch were often hasty and poorly thought out. "Well ... no," he admitted.

"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."

Nick frowned at him. "That's not true."

"It is." Charlie got up and came toward him. "You're so special, 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."

Charlie's face twisted. "Most don't choose to. Or they don't know how." He smiled, suddenly, stepping closer to Nick. "You know what else you have that Harry doesn't have."

"What's that?"

"You're incredibly hot."

Whatever Nick had expected Charlie to say, it wasn't that. It was certainly gratifying, and he appreciated the romantic gesture, but he really wasn't all that. "Come on. I'm just normal. I look like everyone else." He ruffled Charlie's curls lightly. "Not like you. You're all cool and adorable."

Charlie blushed. "You are a dork. A very hot dork."

Nick still didn't buy it, but if Charlie wanted to think he was hot, who was he to argue? He 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."

"What? No." Nick frowned. That wasn't at all where he had hoped this little bit of banter would lead.

Charlie laughed, his eyes dancing the way Nick liked to see them, and he pulled Nick's head back down, up on his tiptoes to kiss him.

Nick never wanted to stop kissing Charlie once he'd started, but something today made it extra difficult. Maybe it was the excess energy from anger he couldn't work out on the pitch, maybe it was the intoxication of knowing Charlie thought he was as nice to look at as Nick thought Charlie was, maybe it was just Charlie. 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?"

He made a fair point.

Later that night as he brushed his teeth, Nick studied himself in the mirror. He still wasn't sure he saw whatever Charlie saw, but if Charlie liked the way he looked, that was good enough for him.