If someone had told Charlie six months ago that rugby practise would come to be the highlight of his day, he'd have laughed in their face. But it was, now that it was the only place he got to see Nick. Except that now the season was over and there wouldn't be any more afternoons on the pitch together.
Charlie picked up the rugby balls while Nick and some of the boys collected the cones. Nick came into the locker room while Charlie was putting the balls away, looking downcast. "Still couldn't come out to any of them."
He'd spoken to them, at least, which to Charlie felt like a big step forward. "Nick, it's fine. There's no deadline."
"I know, but it's just annoying when people think we're, like ..."
Charlie pressed a fist against Nick's bicep. "Best bros?"
They laughed. "I'm going to tell some of the rugby guys, at least. After exams. If I don't come out at school soon, we're probably going to get found out anyway."
"Because you keep wanting to kiss at school."
"Uh, I think you're also to blame for that."
"Don't know what you mean," Charlie said, moving past him. "I have never initiated a kiss at school."
"Oh, really?" Nick reached for his hand. "So, what about the changing room?"
"That didn't count."
"Or the English room?"
"You kissed me first." Nick was very close now, still holding his hand, which was making it very hard to breathe.
"Or what about the—"
Charlie kissed him. He couldn't help it. Flirty Nick was his favourite Nick. "Fine. You win."
Nick laughed, taking Charlie's face in his hands, and then they were kissing good and proper. There had been so little time for this recently, Charlie had nearly forgotten how nice it felt.
Then they heard Coach Singh's voice at the door. "Boys, I need—"
They stopped kissing and stared at her. She looked away, then back at them, then left the room.
"I'll ... I'll talk to her," Nick said.
"Okay. You want me to come with you?"
"No." Nick grinned at him. "This is your fault, by the way."
"Mine? I seem to remember you being there, too."
"You started it."
"Yes, and you were complaining so hard. I could tell, you were just about to stop kissing me to say we shouldn't do that."
Laughing, Nick ruffled his hair. "You were right. Kissing at school was a bad idea."
"Well, you were right, too. It was fun."
Charlie was doodling idly in form the next morning, keenly aware of the empty seat next to him, and that Nick was meeting with Coach Singh and likely getting scolded for their behaviour, when Mr. Lange came to him.
"Charlie, still waiting on your coursework essay."
He kept trying to write it, he did. But he wasn't interested in it, and after everything, it felt like something he was being forced to do against his will, which made it hard to focus on it. "It's nearly done," he lied.
He got the impression Mr. Lange could tell he was lying, but all he said was, "You have until the end of the day."
At lunch, he met Nick in the library, which had become their habit while Charlie tried to finish his work and Nick studied for his GCSEs. "How did it go?"
"Fine. She said rugby was where she met her wife."
"Did she? Huh."
Nick nodded. "And she said I don't owe it to anyone to tell them about me. Oh, and to keep the kissing outside of practise."
"Coach Singh is very smart."
"Apparently." Nick had been laying out his books and papers. "You really think you can help me with this?"
"I really think I can help you with this."
"Okay, then."
They put their heads together and started going over Nick's notes. It would have gone better if he hadn't been absolutely certain he couldn't do it, but bit by bit they got through the revision. Nick groaned and laid his head on Charlie's shoulder. "I don't want to do this anymore."
"It's your last exam. You're nearly done."
"No!" Nick closed his eyes, refusing to be cheered up.
But Charlie kept trying. "Then it's basically the Paris trip, and we get to spend every day together for the whole thing."
"Okay, that does sound pretty good," Nick admitted, sitting up.
"See? Let's go over ionic compounds."
"You've spent so much time helping me. What about your history coursework? I haven't helped you with that at all."
"It's fine. It's done." It was almost done. Sort of. It was only a little lie, and it was for Nick's own good. He couldn't be worrying about Charlie while he took his exam.
"You are amazing."
"Sh! Ionic compounds," Charlie whispered.
When lunch was over, Nick went to his last exam, and Charlie got excused from his music class to finish the coursework essay. He thought about Nick, forcing himself through test after test, hating it. The least Charlie could do was finish one little essay.
Which was easier said than done when the words simply wouldn't flow. He used to be good at this. He used to toss off essays in half an hour. How had he done that? He'd just ... started typing.
So that's what he did. He started typing. Once he got started, he got into the rhythm, and before he knew it, he was finished, dropping the printed-out essay onto Mr. Lange's desk.
"And with five minutes to spare."
Charlie smiled. In five minutes, Nick's exam would be over, and the term would be over, and then ... summer. Together.
The Year 11s all came out together in one loud, cheering mass. Charlie hurried through them until he saw Nick, and they hugged, hard. "I'm free! I'm not grounded anymore!"
Before Nick could reply, Mr. Farouk's voice cut through all the other noise. "Yo! Unless you're staying for the meeting about the Paris trip, can you all go home now?"
Nick and Charlie looked at each other and grinned. The end of the term had had its dark days, but Paris was in front of them, and all that time together. They'd earned it.