Chapter 7
The cold breeze bites at Nick’s cheeks as he trudges along his usual path, the crunch of snow and slush under his boots a strangely comforting sound. He tugs his jacket tighter around him, his breath fogging in the crisp air. It’s late—too late for most people to be out—but this is his routine after a night at the bar or a frat party.
It started during his first semester at Harvard. After stumbling out of whatever chaotic event he’d been at, he found that the cold air helped clear his head. Over time, it became a habit. A way to sober up, to sort through his thoughts without anyone else around to interfere. He’s not sure if it’s normal, but it works for him.
His usual route always leads him to Memorial Hall. The building is stunning at night, its architecture almost glowing under the moonlight. Nick likes to stop here, to look up at the intricate details of the structure and let the quiet wash over him. It feels like a world away from the loud, sweaty chaos of the night he’s just left behind.
But tonight, something’s different.
As he approaches the hall, his eyes catch on something—or someone. There’s a figure on the roof, silhouetted against the night sky. Nick stops in his tracks, squinting up at the shadowy shape.
His chest tightens. “What the hell…?” he mutters under his breath, his breath visible in the cold.
For a moment, he stands frozen, unsure of what to do. Is this some kind of prank? A drunk student being stupid? An initiation?
The figure doesn’t move, and that stillness sends a wave of unease through Nick. He takes a step closer, his mind racing. Should he call out? Call for help?
“Hey!” he shouts, his voice echoing in the empty night. “Hello!?
there’s no reply.
Nick feels his heart pounding—not just from the alcohol still coursing through his veins, but from the sheer panic clawing at his chest. Someone’s on the roof. The roof. That’s not just dangerous—it’s forbidden. And as far as he knows, the door to the roof has been locked for years.
His mind races as his feet move faster. What if it’s some stupid frat initiation? That would be bad enough—dangerous and reckless. But what if it’s not? What if it’s someone upset, someone about to do something irreversible?
Nick doesn’t wait to find out. He’s already running, his boots slipping slightly on the snow-covered ground before he bursts through the doors of Memorial Hall.
The warmth of the building hits him, but he barely registers it. His boots, still wet from outside, skid across the slick tile floor, and he nearly loses his footing. He steadies himself on a nearby wall and keeps going, the sound of his breath echoing in the empty hall.
There’s no time for the elevator. He knows it’s old, slow, and probably won’t even make it up without stalling halfway. No way am I getting stuck right now.
He sprints for the stairs, taking them two at a time. The cold air from outside still clings to his jacket, but he’s already sweating, his pulse hammering in his ears. Each step feels endless, the spiral of the staircase seeming to stretch forever upward.
I have to stop this. I have to help.
The thought repeats in his head, pushing him forward. His breathing is ragged, his legs burning as he climbs higher and higher, his mind locked on one thing: whoever is up there, they can’t be alone. Not tonight.
Nick takes the stairs two, three at a time, his legs burning but his adrenaline refusing to let him stop. The air is thick with the smell of alcohol on his breath and the nauseating churn in his stomach, but he swallows it all down. He has to keep going.
When he reaches the top, he sees it. The door—the door that’s supposed to be locked, the one with the “Do Not Enter” sign plastered on it—is wide open, as if whoever went through didn’t care about rules, didn’t care about consequences.
He doesn’t hesitate. He barrels through, his breathing heavy, his heart pounding in his chest. The cold air slams into him like a punch, and he almost slips on the icy rooftop. But he catches himself, his eyes scanning frantically until they land on the figure near the edge.
The person is standing by the ledge, their back to him. Nick freezes for a split second, his chest tightening, but then he forces himself forward.
“Hello?” he calls out, his voice rough from the exertion.
The figure turns sharply, startled by the intrusion. The movement is quick and jerky, and Nick takes a step closer, his stomach twisting.
His heart drops.
The shock, the sadness, the recognition—it all hits him at once, like a physical blow.
“Otis?”
The name leaves his lips before he can stop it.
The world tilts, the scene blurs, and then Nick wakes with a jolt, his breath ragged and his body drenched in sweat.
His room is dark and quiet, the only sound the faint hum of the heater kicking on. He stares at the ceiling, his chest heaving as he tries to steady himself, to remind himself that it was just a nightmare.
“Otis,” he whispers, the name still heavy on his tongue, his heart aching as the memory floods back, unrelenting.
It wasn’t real. Not this time. But the pain in his chest reminds him that once, it was. And he couldn’t stop it then.
It’s a nightmare that plagues Nick more often than he cares to admit. One that clings to him like a shadow, dragging him back into the past no matter how hard he tries to leave it behind. He wakes from it in a cold sweat, his chest tight, his breaths shallow. Mornings after those nights are always the hardest. He splashes his face with freezing water, hoping it’ll jolt the thoughts away, but it never works. How could it?
Because how can anyone forget about Otis?
Otis—his best friend, once upon a time. The person who had been a constant in Nick’s life during his early years at Harvard. The boy he’d met on his very first day of football practice, the one who had limped off the field after breaking his leg in the first drill.
Nick remembers how Otis had sat on the sidelines, trying to hide his tears, not from pain, but from what the injury meant. The scholarship was gone in an instant, leaving Otis with tuition bills he couldn’t afford and a dream that suddenly seemed just out of reach.
But Otis never complained. Never let the weight of his circumstances break his spirit. Instead, he picked himself up—literally—and got to work. He juggled three jobs while staying at Harvard, scraping by on what little he earned because he refused to give up.
Nick admired him from the start. How could he not? Otis had a way of making everyone feel important, of lighting up every room he entered. He was funny, compassionate, and endlessly determined. Despite everything he was going through, Otis cared more about making friends, finding joy, and embracing freedom than he did about his struggles.
That was Otis—Nick’s best friend, his lifeline in those turbulent first years at Harvard. They’d shared everything: late-night study sessions, stupid inside jokes, drunken confessions, and plans for the future. Nick had never had a friend like him before. And now…
Now, all he had were memories. Memories that wouldn’t let him go, no matter how much time passed. Memories that replayed in his dreams and left him waking up with a hollow ache in his chest.
Otis wasn’t just someone Nick had known. He was someone Nick had needed. And losing him… well, that’s the kind of thing you don’t just forget. You don’t move on from it. Not really.
Nick shakes his head, trying to push the lingering fog of his nightmare away. He splashes his face with freezing water once more, the icy sting jolting him into the present. The memories don’t leave, not entirely, but he needs to shove them into the background for now, even if just for a little while.
He dries his face with a towel, his eyes catching on his phone sitting on the bathroom counter. After three mornings of coffee runs together, he and Charlie had finally exchanged numbers—something practical and simple, really, in case one of them needed to reach the other about Remy or school. They hadn’t used them yet, though. Not once.
But now feels like the right time. Nick picks up his phone and types out a small, simple message:
Hey, I won’t be at the coffee shop this morning. Something came up. Sorry.
He hesitates for a moment before hitting send. It’s brief, and maybe a little impersonal, but it’s all he can manage right now. He sets the phone down, expecting to leave it at that.
A few seconds later, his phone buzzes, and he glances at the screen.
Oh, no, that’s okay! Do you want me to get some coffee for you and drop it off when I drop Remy off?
Nick stares at the message for a moment, the unexpected kindness catching him off guard. He smiles faintly, the ache in his chest easing just a fraction. His thumbs hover over the keyboard before he types back:
No, that’s okay. Thanks, though.
He sends it quickly, then shuts his phone off. The world feels too loud right now, even in the silence of his apartment, and he needs a little more time to himself.
Sliding the phone face down on the counter, Nick leans forward against the sink, closing his eyes. He’s grateful for Charlie’s message—it’s a reminder that someone cares, even in the smallest way. But for now, he just needs to breathe.
Although Nick loves his job—truly, deeply loves it—there are mornings when it feels like a mountain he has to climb. Today is one of those mornings.
The last thing he wants to do right now is face a room full of energetic four-year-olds. Not when he’s barely managed to pull himself together after a restless night, not when all he really wants is to lay in bed, let himself grieve, and just feel. To put on Otis’ favorite songs, let the music fill the emptiness, maybe even go to the diner they used to visit and order Otis’ favorite food. Just for a while, to let himself miss his best friend without pretending everything is fine.
But Nick has a job to do. He could call in sick—he could—but that’s not who he is. He only uses his sick days when he’s truly sick, when he absolutely can’t make it. He knows how much his kids love him, how much they look forward to seeing him. The thought of disappointing them, or leaving them with a sub at the last minute, is enough to pull him, even when he feels like staying under the covers forever.
He shuffles to the closet, pulling out a clean button-up and a pair of slacks. His fingers brush against a drawer, and he grabs a pair of funny socks with tacos on them—Otis always loved when he wore quirky socks. It makes him smile faintly, just for a moment.
After slipping on his dress shoes, Nick moves to the couch and sits down heavily. He leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, and lets out a long, slow breath. The room is quiet, save for the faint hum of the heater, and for the first time all morning, he allows himself to just be.
He closes his eyes and lets the silence settle over him. His heart still aches, but the stillness helps, even if just a little. He takes it all in—the muted light streaming through the window, the faint chill in the air, the steady rhythm of his breathing.
This is what he needs, just a few moments to himself before the day begins. To gather the pieces of himself, brace his heart, and remind himself why he does what he does.
Nick stays on the couch until the last possible second, when he knows if he doesn’t leave right now, he’ll be late. With a sigh, he pushes himself up, grabs his backpack, and heads to his car. The drive is quiet, the soft hum of a mellow playlist filling the space as he lets himself hum along. The music soothes him, even if just a little, helping him shift into the mindset he needs for the day ahead.
By the time he gets to work, he’s cutting it close—too close—but he manages to slip into the classroom just before any parents arrive. Quickly, he flips on the lights, sets up the projector screen, and arranges a few activities for the kids. It’s routine, familiar, and grounding in its own way.
Just as he finishes placing the last set of crayons on a table, the door opens. Nick turns, expecting one of the other teachers or maybe one of his more punctual parents.
But instead, it’s Charlie.
And Remy, of course—but Nick barely notices the kid because Charlie looks… exceptionally good today.
He’s wearing a brown sweater with tans and blues woven through it, paired with dark blue jeans that have rips at the knees, and black Converse. It’s casual, effortless, and yet somehow… perfect. Charlie looks so fucking good.
Nick freezes for a moment, his brain stuttering as his eyes take in the sight of him. If Nick were in a better mood, if he and Charlie were closer friends, he might even be tempted to pull him into a warm hug, because Charlie looks so damn cuddly.
But he can’t. That would be weird. This is Remy’s dad, after all. His student’s dad.
And while they’re becoming friends—slowly, awkwardly—they’re not that kind of friends. The kind who hug and talk about their days and—God, Nick needs to stop this train of thought.
He clears his throat, offering a smile as Charlie steps inside. “Good morning,” he says, trying to keep his tone light and professional, even though his heart feels like it’s doing somersaults.
Charlie smiles back, his warm brown eyes crinkling at the corners. “Morning,” he says, his voice soft.
Nick swallows hard, forcing himself to focus. He’s just a parent. A friend. Nothing else.
Before Nick can say another word, a whirlwind of energy rushes toward him.
“Morning, Mr. Nick! Morning, Mr. Nick!” Remy shouts, practically bouncing as he runs up. He’s clutching a bright dinosaur plush in his little hands, and before Nick can react, the boy shoves it into his arms.
“Look! Look!” Remy says, jumping up and down. “Daddy won it for me at the arcade yesterday! It’s a dino! Cool, right? It’s yours now!”
Nick blinks in surprise, looking down at the plush dinosaur now in his hands. “Oh, wow, Remy. That’s really nice of you, but—”
“I have too many dinos!” Remy cuts him off, shaking his head like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “So you get this one! And, and, oh! Daddy bought you coffee!”
Nick raises his eyebrows, glancing at Charlie, who’s lingering near the doorway, looking embarrassed.
Remy wrinkles his nose. “Coffee’s gross! Yucky! But Daddy said you like it. He said it’s for you ‘cause you weren’t at the coffee shop this morning!”
Nick looks from the dinosaur plush to the coffee cup, then back at Charlie, who’s holding the cup and looking like he wishes the floor would swallow him whole.
“Remy…” Charlie says quickly, his voice part exasperation, part mortification. “You weren’t supposed to—”
“But it’s true!” Remy insists, grinning up at Nick. “Daddy said you’d need coffee! So I told him to bring it for you!”
Nick glances at Charlie, his heart softening at the sight of the blush spreading across his face. “You bought me coffee?” he asks, his voice soft with surprise.
Charlie clears his throat, looking anywhere but at Nick. “Yeah, well… I thought you might need a little pick-me-up. If it's... If you don't want it that's okay too! I know you said no but... Well, yeah. It's yours."
Nick looks back at Remy, who’s grinning like he’s solved the world’s biggest problem, and then at the coffee. Warmth blooms in his chest, and he can’t help the small smile that spreads across his face.
“Thank you,” Nick says sincerely, his gaze flicking to Charlie. “That’s really thoughtful.”
Charlie shrugs, his lips twitching into a faint smile. “It’s no big deal.”
Nick chuckles softly, holding up the dinosaur plush and giving it a little shake. “Well, with this guy and coffee, I think this might be the best morning ever.”
“Yeah!” Remy cheers, throwing his arms up. “See? Told you! Best morning ever!”
Nick laughs, and even Charlie’s smile grows wider. Suddenly, the weight Nick carried this morning feels just a little lighter.
That’s one thing about Nick—he feels deeply. He can wake up having the worst morning imaginable, haunted by his past or weighed down by his emotions, and within just a few hours, he can feel like the happiest person alive. It’s not that he forces himself to feel better—he’s just deeply connected to his emotions, always riding their ebb and flow.
And Nick doesn’t see that as a bad thing, even if society tries to tell him otherwise. All that “men shouldn’t be emotional” nonsense? It’s garbage to him. Why shouldn’t men feel things? Why shouldn’t they cry, laugh, or let their hearts be soft? Nick has always believed in the power of embracing who you are, even when the world pushes back.
And boy, does the world push back. Living in a country that marginalizes anyone who doesn’t fit the heterosexual mold or who dares to be different, Nick knows better than to listen to what society has to say about how he should act. He’s learned to tune out the noise, to lean into his feelings and let them guide him.
Which is why, right now, he’s happy.
Genuinely, purely happy. Because he doesn’t think anyone’s ever bought him a coffee before. At least, not like this—not showing up to work just to hand it to him, not as a thoughtful, unexpected gesture.
It’s such a small thing, but it feels monumental to Nick. The simple kindness of it warms him from the inside out. It’s not just the coffee, either—it’s the intention behind it. It’s Charlie, showing up and thinking of him in a way that no one really has before.
Nick glances at the cup in his hand, a smile tugging at his lips. He did need a pick-me-up this morning.
he feels a tiny tug at his pant leg. Looking down, he sees Remy staring up at him with wide, expectant eyes.
“What are you gonna name the dino?” Remy asks, his tone serious like this is the most important question in the world. “I think you should name it… George.”
Nick chuckles, holding up the plush dinosaur to inspect it. “George, huh? Why George?”
Remy crosses his arms, striking a dramatic pose. “Uh, Daddy and I watched Curious George last night, and I don’t know, I think it’s a good name.”
Nick grins at the boy’s certainty and nods. “All right, well then, I’ll call it George. George the dino.”
Remy’s face lights up, and he jumps a little in excitement. “Yay! Do you like it? I like it. I think he’s cute.”
Nick smiles, crouching down a bit to meet Remy’s gaze. “Yeah, he’s cute. George is a great name.”
Remy tilts his head, his expression suddenly turning mischievous. “Cute like Daddy, right? You think my Daddy’s cute, right?”
Nick blinks, caught completely off guard. “Uh…”
“You better say yes, or I’ll be mad!” Remy warns, pointing a finger at Nick as if to emphasize the seriousness of his demand.
Nick laughs nervously, glancing at Charlie, who looks like he wants to melt into the floor. “Well,” Nick says carefully, trying not to make the situation any more awkward, “George is definitely cute, and, uh… I guess your Daddy’s cute too, if you think so.”
Remy beams, clearly satisfied with the answer. “Good! ‘Cause Daddy is cute. Everyone should think so.”
Nick laughs again, shaking his head as Charlie mutters under his breath, “Remy, buddy, you’re killing me here.” But even as Nick stands back up, he can’t help the warmth spreading in his chest—or the faint blush creeping onto his cheeks.
Remy grins and announces loudly, “I’m gonna go play now and wait for the other kids to get here!”
Nick chuckles, nodding. “Okay, but make sure you hang up your backpack first, alright?”
“Yes, sir!” Remy salutes with all the seriousness a four-year-old can muster before dashing off toward the cubbies, his little feet pattering against the floor.
Nick shakes his head fondly, watching him go, but when he turns back around, he finds Charlie already looking at him. There’s a slight flush to Charlie’s cheeks as he walks over, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.
“I’m so sorry about that,” Charlie says quickly, his words tumbling out. “He’s been asking a lot of questions lately. We did watch Curious George last night, but we also watched this other movie, and… I don’t know, I guess it got to him.”
Nick tilts his head, curious but patient, as Charlie continues, “It had, like, a mother and a father in it, and I think it upset him a little. He’s been asking questions about why some families have two parents, and… I guess he just assumes every household is supposed to have that.”
Charlie exhales sharply, his fingers fiddling with the hem of his sweater. “And, well… I guess you’re the closest adult to him, besides me, and… I don’t know. He’s four. Kids are like little sponges, and I—” He cuts himself off with a small, nervous laugh. “Anyways, I’m rambling. Sorry about that.”
Nick smiles warmly, shaking his head. “Hey, it’s okay,” he says gently. “Really. Kids have all kinds of questions, and it’s normal for them to get curious about stuff like that.”
Charlie looks at him, a little relieved but still a touch embarrassed. “Still… I just feel bad. I didn’t mean to put you on the spot like that.”
Nick waves it off, his smile widening. “Don’t worry about it. Honestly, I think it’s sweet how much he looks up to you. And hey,” he adds with a soft chuckle, “he's right about you being cute."
Charlie blinks, clearly caught off guard by Nick’s comment. His eyes widen slightly as he stammers, “you… you think I’m cute?”
Nick hesitates for only a moment before shrugging casually, though there’s a spark of mischief in his eyes. He’s been toying with the idea of testing the waters for days now—wondering if Charlie would pick up on something, if he’d respond in kind, or if Nick was just projecting his own growing feelings onto harmless interactions.
This feels like the perfect chance to see where Charlie stands, to maybe hint that his interest isn’t purely platonic.
“I mean, yeah,” Nick says lightly, letting his tone remain easy and playful. “I think everyone would.”
Charlie shakes his head, his cheeks flushing pink as he fumbles with his words. “But I… Sorry, I guess… I don’t think I’ve ever been called cute before. I mean, besides like my best friends, but they’re kind of obligated to say that, you know?”
Nick tilts his head slightly, letting a softer smile replace the playful one. “Charlie,” he says, his voice dipping just enough to be sincere, “you’re cute. Accept it.”
Charlie lets out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck in a way that makes Nick’s chest warm. “Yeah, well… I especially haven’t been called cute by a straight guy before.”
And there it is—a little window, a little moment to push just enough, to test the waters without risking too much. Nick’s heart beats a little faster, but he keeps his composure, leaning back slightly with an easy grin.
“Well…” he says, drawing the word out just a little.
He pauses, just long enough for Charlie’s curiosity to peak, and then he lets the words slip with a small, mischievous wink. “Good thing I’m not straight then.”
Charlie’s eyes widen further, his jaw practically dropping as Nick adds, in a tone that’s both casual and deliberate, “I’m bi, actually.”
For a second, there’s silence, and Nick’s thoughts race. Did he push too far? Did he make Charlie uncomfortable? Was this a mistake? But then Charlie’s blush deepens, and he looks almost shy as he stammers, “Oh… oh, wow, um… okay.”
Nick chuckles softly, letting the moment hang just long enough to not feel rushed but not awkward either. He takes in Charlie’s flustered state, the way his hands fidget slightly, and feels a little flicker of hope.
“Just thought you should know,” Nick says with a smile, keeping his tone casual but his gaze steady, before turning slightly toward the classroom.
As he watches Remy happily building blocks, Nick’s thoughts linger on Charlie. He didn’t get a clear answer, but he also didn’t get rejection or discomfort. Maybe, just maybe, there’s something there.
Charlie, still rooted to the spot, lets out a shaky breath and mutters under his breath, “Well, I'm uh, gay."
At the words of Charlie confessing that he’s gay, Nick’s heart skips a beat, then starts pounding just a little faster. Because that means—that means—he might actually have a chance.
A chance with this guy.
This beautiful man who looks so damn good in sweaters, who has a soft, soothing voice that makes Nick’s chest feel warm, and those curly locks of hair that Nick can’t stop imagining running his fingers through. And let’s not even get started on the way those dark jeans hug his legs, the way the button at the top just seems to beg to be undone—stop it, Nick, he tells himself, mentally slapping the thought away.
But the realization lingers, and it’s exhilarating.
He has a chance with this man. This absolute beauty of a man.
And it gets better. Because from what he’s pieced together—from Remy’s questions about families and why his doesn’t have two parents—it seems Charlie is single. Or at least single enough for Nick to feel like the door is open, like there’s a possibility here.
It’s insane.
This morning had started as a complete mess—Nick waking up from a nightmare he’s had far too many times, dragging himself through his routine, feeling like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. And now, within just a few short minutes, everything feels different. Lighter. Brighter.
Because he just learned two things about Charlie that he never thought he’d learn so soon:
One, Charlie is gay.
And two, there’s a very real chance that Nick might not just be fantasizing about something impossible.
He stands there, trying to keep his cool, even as his heart races and a smile tugs at his lips. Maybe, he thinks, just maybe, today isn’t so bad after all.
Nick opens his mouth, ready to say something—anything—to acknowledge what Charlie just confessed. To comment on the fact that this man, this amazing man, just shared a part of himself that Nick wasn’t expecting to learn so soon.
But before he can get a single word out, the classroom door bursts open, and chaos spills in.
A wave of little bodies rushes toward him, voices shouting, “Mr. Nick! Mr. Nick!” as tiny arms wrap around his legs in hugs that nearly topple him over. Parents follow behind, some with sleepy smiles and others with overly cheerful “Good morning, Mr. Nelson!”
And just like that, the workday begins.
Nick manages to return the hugs and respond to the greetings, but his gaze flickers back toward Charlie. He watches as Charlie crouches down to give Remy a small wave, whispering something that makes the boy grin and giggle. Then Charlie straightens up, gives Nick a quick nod—soft and almost shy—and walks out the door.
Nick barely has time to process it. One moment, Charlie is there, filling the room with his quiet warmth, and the next, he’s gone, leaving Nick standing amidst the chaos of morning drop-off.
He looks around, taking stock of the scene. A group of kids is still clinging to him, chatting excitedly about their weekends. Remy is happily seated at a table, already lost in his drawing, a bright smile on his face. George the dino—the plush Remy gifted him—sits proudly on Nick’s desk. And next to George is the warm coffee Charlie bought him, the steam curling lazily in the air.
Nick lets out a small breath, his chest tightening in the best possible way. Because that coffee wasn’t just coffee. It was a thoughtful gesture from a man who, for some miraculous reason, might just feel the same way Nick does.
He takes it all in—the kids, the chaos, the coffee, and the thought of Charlie.
Remy’s father is gay.
Remy’s father is kind.
Remy’s father is beautiful.
And Nick has a chance.
As the morning madness continues, Nick smiles to himself. He doesn’t know how, or when, but he’s going to take that chance. Because some things are worth going for, no matter how complicated they might seem.