Chapter 12
It takes a lot of convincing—seriously, so much convincing—for Charlie to finally agree to go out tonight. In fact, the only reason he’s even considering it is because Michael told him, in the most Michael way possible, “Get more confidence than a goldfish and drunk text Nicholas in your interests of going on a date.” Which, somehow, came across as both brutally blunt and kindly motivating.
Then, there’s Tori, his ever-practical sister, who said she’d watch Remy for the night, but only if Charlie agreed to lend her his car for a weekend. Charlie, of course, hemmed and hawed until Remy stepped in with wide, pleading eyes and said, “I wanna hang out with Aunt Tors and Uncle Mikey! Please, Daddy?” And, well, how was he supposed to say no to that?
Tori and Michael are, well, Tori and Michael. They're each other's person in every way that counts, a perfect pairing of dry humor and unconditional care, labels and societal expectations be damned. They’ve been through hell and back together, and honestly, Charlie trusts no one else more to watch over his son. So, he agrees—though not without a pang of guilt for leaving Remy behind, even for just one night.
Still, it’s been forever since Charlie’s gone out properly—dressing up, putting on skinny jeans that cling just right, digging out crop tops from his college years. Things he used to love wearing. Things that once made him feel bold and confident and, yes, unapologetically gay. He hasn’t touched those clothes in years, not since Ben sneered that they made him look “too gay” and accused him of “causing a scene.” Well, fuck him. Charlie is done dimming his light to make others comfortable.
Now, at 27 and single—actually single, not the fractured, hollow version of being “committed” to someone who made him feel like he was nothing—Charlie is ready to reclaim himself. And if that means stepping out in those skimpy outfits Ben hated so much, outfits that Charlie used to love, then so be it. Geoff, his ever-encouraging therapist, has said he’s ready. Ready to put himself out there, ready to explore, ready to live.
When Charlie casually mentioned to Elle and Tao over a group chat that he was going out for the first time in years, he didn’t anticipate their immediate and enthusiastic response. It took thirty minutes—thirty—before they showed up at his doorstep, which was especially impressive (and mildly terrifying) considering they lived an hour away.
Elle burst through the door first, dragging a bulging bag behind her, full of sparkly clothes that shimmered under the hallway light. She waved dramatically, grinning ear to ear, as if she were about to embark on a mission. Behind her, a slightly disgruntled Tao followed, arms laden with her makeup bags and hair products, muttering, “I’m not even getting anything out of this. Why am I the one carrying all of this? You owe me.”
“Shush, Tao,” Elle said, brushing him off with a wave of her hand. “This is an emergency. Charlie is going out for the first time in forever, and he clearly has no clue what to wear. Don’t worry, I’m here to save the day.”
Charlie blinked at them from the doorway, still in his sweatpants and a hoodie, half-dreading whatever was in Elle’s arsenal. “I was just going to wear—”
Elle cut him off with a sharp, “No.” She pushed past him into the living room, her bag hitting the side of the couch with a dramatic thud. “Absolutely not. This is your first night out as single Charlie, as confident Charlie, as I-am-no-longer-with-that-piece-of-trash-Ben Charlie. You are not wearing whatever boring thing you were planning.”
Tao dropped the makeup bags on the coffee table with a sigh. “Do I get to veto anything?”
Elle turned to him with a death glare. “No.”
Charlie crossed his arms, laughing nervously. “Guys, I’m not trying to make some grand statement. I’m just going to a bar.”
“Exactly!” Elle said, pulling out a sequined crop top from her bag with a flourish. “And what better place to remind the world—and yourself—that you’re hot?”
“...That’s not gonna fit me,” Charlie said, eyeing the crop top warily.
“It will,” Elle insisted. “Trust me, I have a vision. Just go with it.”
Tao rolled his eyes but smirked. “At least let me veto the glitter eyeliner. For his sake.”
“No promises,” Elle said, already rifling through her bag for matching pants.
As soon as Remy spots Tao and Elle standing in the doorway, his little eyes light up, his tiny hand clutching both Michael and Tori’s fingers tightly. Without hesitation, he lets out an excited gasp and sprints toward them, practically dragging his aunt and uncle behind him.
“TAO! ELLE!” he squeals, throwing his arms wide before attempting to hug both of their legs at the same time. “You’re here! Daddy, you didn't say anything!! Rude daddy! Are you staying? Can you play with me?”
Tao bends down, grinning. “Well, well, if it isn’t my favorite godkid!”
“I’m your only godkid, duh!!!,” Remy points out, puffing out his chest proudly.
Elle laughs, crouching to ruffle his hair. “And the best godkid we could ask for, huh? What’s up, Remy? Ready for some fun with Aunt Tors and Uncle Mikey?”
Remy nods enthusiastically before his eyes dart to Elle’s bag. His jaw drops dramatically when he sees the sparkly clothes spilling out, and he lets out a loud, “WHOA! Sparkles?!”
Elle chuckles as Remy dives toward the bag, his tiny hands rummaging through its contents with all the excitement of unwrapping Christmas presents. He pulls out a black sparkly mesh crop top with wide, awestruck eyes.
“Daddy!” Remy exclaims, holding the shirt up toward Charlie like it’s a treasure he just unearthed. “Wear this one! It’s SO COOL! You’ll look like a shiny dino! Wear it, Daddy!”
Charlie can’t help but laugh, his cheeks flushing as he takes the shirt from Remy’s hands. “A shiny dino, huh?”
“Yes!” Remy says with a firm nod. “You’ll be so cool, Daddy. Right, Uncle Mikey?”
Michael shrugs with a smirk. “I'm not well-versed in shiny dinos but I do believe that would look quite good on you, Charlie. And what Remy says, goes."
Tori steps in with her usual calm authority, placing a hand on Remy’s shoulder as he continues to admire the sparkly shirt he’s chosen for Charlie. “Alright, little man,” she says, her tone warm but firm. “Come on now, let your daddy get dressed. We have a movie night to start and so much ice cream waiting for us.”
At the mention of ice cream, Remy lets out an excited squeak. “Ice cream?!” His eyes widen as he processes the words. “SO MUCH ice cream?! What kind? Chocolate? Strawberry?!”
“All of it,” Michael chimes in with a wink, hoisting Remy up into his arms. “But only if you let your daddy go sparkle up for his night out, alright?”
Remy gasps dramatically, wriggling out of Michael’s grasp just long enough to dart back to Charlie. Throwing his tiny arms around his daddy’s waist, he squeezes tight. “I love you, Daddy.”
Charlie melts instantly, crouching down to hug him back just as tightly. “I love you more, buds. Always.”
Remy pulls back slightly, his serious little face inches from Charlie’s. “You’ll be back soon, right?”
Charlie nods, brushing a stray curl from Remy’s forehead. “I’ll be back soon, I promise. Now, be good for Aunt Tors and Uncle Mikey, yeah?”
“I will!” Remy chirps, already skipping off toward Tori and Michael, babbling about which ice cream flavors they’ll eat first.
Charlie watches him go with a soft smile, his heart full and aching all at once. Tori glances back at him, her own smile faint but reassuring. “Go, Charlie. He’s in good hands.”
With that, Charlie exhales deeply, holding the sparkly shirt in his hands. “Alright,” he mutters to himself.
As Remy skips out of the room with Tori and Michael, his laughter echoing outside, Charlie feels his shoulders sag, the weight of letting his son go—if only for a night—settling heavily on him. He exhales slowly, gripping the sparkly shirt in his hands as if it’s the only thing tethering him to the moment.
He’s never been away from Remy for more than a few hours, and now, a whole night? It feels monumental. Overwhelming. His chest tightens at the thought.
Tao, ever observant, steps closer and pats Charlie firmly on the shoulder. “Hey,” he says with a lopsided grin, his voice full of warmth. “Let’s have a fun night, yeah? Like we’re back in college. Remember? The three of us, taking on the world."
Charlie chuckles faintly, but it’s a little strained. “Yeah, yeah, you’re right. It’s just... he’s my baby, you know? I’ve never... I mean, an entire night.”
Elle steps forward, her soft, comforting presence filling the space. She wraps her arms around Charlie in a tight hug, resting her chin on his shoulder. “And your baby is in the best hands, Charlie. Tori and Michael love him so much, and you know Remy will have the time of his life with them. You’ve got this. It’s okay to let go just a little.”
Charlie closes his eyes for a moment, leaning into the hug. “Yeah. Okay. You’re right,” he murmurs, his voice a little steadier. “It’s just... a big step.”
Elle pulls back, her hands still resting on his shoulders. “And you’re taking it. One step at a time. Now go put that shirt on and let’s show everyone how fabulous you can be.”
Charlie stares at himself in the mirror, holding the sparkly mesh crop top Remy had picked out. The idea of wearing it feels both thrilling and a little nerve-wracking. But then he remembers his son’s excited little face and his eager, "Wear it, Daddy!" With a deep breath, he slips it on, pairing it with his tight black skinny jeans and his trusty all-black Converse. The outfit is... bold. Definitely a far cry from the cozy sweaters and jeans he normally wears, but there’s something liberating about it.
When Charlie steps out of his bedroom, Tao lets out a low whistle. “Alright, Charlie, look at you! If I was gay, or well, not taken, I'd be all over you."
Before Charlie can respond, Elle squeaks, practically vibrating with excitement. “Oh my gosh, yes! This is perfect!” She grabs his arm and starts dragging him toward the dining table. “Okay, sit. Sit right now. We’re not done yet."
Charlie protests weakly. “Elle, seriously, isn’t this enough? I mean, it’s just a night out—”
“Nope!” Elle cuts him off, pushing him into a chair. “We’re going full glam, mister. Now hold still.”
Elle sets to work with her makeup bag, pulling out black eyeliner and a small container of silver sparkles. She leans in, holding Charlie’s face steady as she carefully applies the eyeliner.
Charlie tries not to flinch as she lines his eyes, though the brush feels ticklish against his skin. “I haven’t worn eyeliner since Halloween in college,” he mutters.
Elle laughs, stepping back to admire her work. “Well, you’ve been depriving the world, clearly. Now for the finishing touch.” She dips her brush into the silver sparkles and gently dusts them along his cheekbones. “Perfect. Now, don’t you dare smudge this. You look... absolutely stunning.”
Charlie glances at the mirror Elle holds up, and his breath catches. The eyeliner makes his eyes pop, and the subtle shimmer on his cheeks adds a glow he hasn’t seen in years. He looks... confident. Bold. Someone ready to take on the night.
Tao stands and offers Charlie a mock bow. “Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you: Charlie Spring, the man, the myth, the legend.”
He remembers vividly the way Ben would sneer, his voice sharp and cutting as he threw eyeliner pencils and palettes into the trash. "Why do you even need this stuff? Are you trying to humiliate me?" Ben had said once, his tone dripping with disdain. If Charlie even dared to pick up the pieces, it would escalate into a full-blown argument. There were threats, promises that he would "never let this happen again," and veiled insults that cut deeper than the sharpest blade. It became easier, safer, to just not try.
Crop tops were the same. Charlie had long admired them from afar, the confidence they exuded, the way they could make someone feel powerful and free. But he’d never dared to wear one, not just because Ben would’ve lost his mind, but because Charlie felt like his own body betrayed him. The faint, silvery scars that crisscrossed his torso and arms—they weren’t loud, but they felt like they screamed at him whenever he glanced in the mirror. Wearing a crop top felt like inviting the world to stare at his brokenness, his past, and the moments when he wasn’t sure he’d survive.
Even after Ben was gone, those feelings lingered. The fear, the shame, the idea that his body was something he had to hide. It was exhausting, but it was also comfortable in its own twisted way—an armor he wore every day.
But tonight... tonight feels different.
As he stands in the sparkly crop top that his son chose for him, eyeliner and glitter highlighting his best features, there’s a strange and unfamiliar sensation creeping in.
Confidence.
It feels foreign, like it doesn’t quite belong to him, but it’s there, flickering softly like the glow of a candle.
Elle’s words: You look stunning. For the first time in years, he allows himself to believe it might be true. Ben isn’t here anymore to tell him what he can or can’t do, and his scars—though they’re still there—don’t feel as loud tonight. They’re just a part of him, one piece of a story that is still being written.
He’s wearing freedom.
Tao claps his hands loudly, grinning ear to ear, and shouts, "Okay, let's get fucking drunk!?"
Charlie shakes his head but can’t help the small laugh that escapes. “Yeah, okay. Let’s do this.”
“THAT’S THE SPIRIT!” Tao yells, pumping his fist in the air as he leads the charge out the door, Elle and Charlie following close behind.
They decide on the queer bar in town—a place they’ve all been to once or twice during their younger days but feels different now that they’re older. It’s the safer option, especially for Charlie, who hasn’t been out in years. Tao had declared, “The gays know how to pour better and stronger drinks,”
Which, he's not wrong.
The bar itself is already alive with energy when they arrive. Purple lights pulse against the walls, casting a kaleidoscope of shapes on the floor. The sound of house music thunders through the air, blending seamlessly with bursts of laughter and chatter from the crowd. People are dancing, hands in the air, completely carefree, and it reminds Charlie of how much he’s missed spaces like this.
As they step inside, Tao immediately heads for the bar. “Okay, first round’s on me!” he declares, already pushing his way through the crowd. “And I’m getting you something strong, Charlie!”
Charlie fidgets with the hem of his crop top, and nods before glancing around. It’s been so long since he’s been in a space like this, surrounded by people who feel free to be themselves. It’s overwhelming, but it’s also kind of… nice.
Elle links her arm with his and leads him toward a quieter corner near the dance floor. “We’re going to have fun tonight,” she says firmly. “No overthinking, no worrying. Just good drinks, yeah?"
Charlie nods, letting out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “Okay,” he says, forcing a smile. “Let’s do this.”
“THAT’S the energy!” Tao reappears with three brightly colored drinks in hand, the glasses shimmering under the neon lights. He hands one to Charlie with a grin. “Here. This one’s called a Glitter Bomb."
Charlie raises an eyebrow but takes the drink anyway. He clinks glasses with Tao and Elle before taking a sip. The taste is sweet but deceptively strong, and it burns just enough to make him feel alive. Yeah, he'll get drunk off this if he has too many.
Charlie had hoped that his friends wouldn’t pry too much, but that hope shatters when Elle leans in, her eyes sparkling with curiosity, and asks, “Okay, spill. What’s really going on? You never just decide to go out. There’s always a reason. Is it work stress? Something with Remy? Or… oh my god, wait—is this about a boy?”
Charlie nearly chokes on his drink, shaking his head furiously, but Tao raises an eyebrow and adds, “Yeah, you’re acting weird. Every time you drag us out, it’s either because of Ben—ugh, gross—or because you’re overthinking something. Please don’t tell me this is Ben-related.”
Elle narrows her eyes, reading his expression. “It’s not Ben, right?”
Charlie sighs, knowing there’s no escape now. “No, it’s not Ben. God, no. It’s just…” He hesitates, swirling his drink in his hand as he tries to find the words. “It’s complicated.”
“Complicated how?” Elle presses, leaning closer.
Tao smirks knowingly. “It’s about a boy, isn’t it?”
Charlie groans, resting his head against the table. “Why do I even talk to you two?”
Elle’s eyes light up, and she immediately gasps, clapping her hands together like a child on Christmas morning. "Oh my God, it so is! Do tell, do tell!" she squeals, practically bouncing in her seat.
Charlie sighs heavily, running a hand through his messy curls before muttering under his breath, "I… I want to fuck my son’s teacher."
There’s a moment of silence before Tao, mid-sip of his drink, promptly chokes and spits it out, coughing dramatically. "You what?!"
Charlie groans, burying his face in his hands. "God, why did I even say that out loud?"
"Because it’s us," Tao says, still recovering from his coughing fit. "Your son’s teacher, Charlie? Really?"
Charlie looks up, cheeks flushed. "I know, okay? I know. It’s bad, and I shouldn’t even—"
"It’s not bad," Elle interrupts, waving him off. "It’s hot. And honestly? You deserve this. Tell us everything. Who is he? What’s his name? Is he hot? Of course he’s hot if you’re crushing on him."
Charlie groans again. "His name is Nick, and yes, he’s… He’s ridiculously hot. And sweet. And kind. And he’s great with Remy. But it’s complicated."
Elle practically vibrates with excitement, grabbing Charlie’s arm as she gushes, "Oh my god, Charlie! This is great!"
Charlie groans, shaking his head and leaning back against the booth. "No, Elle, this is not great," he says, his voice full of exasperation. "Do you know what my mind keeps thinking about? Ripping his buttons off and pulling down his stupidly tight jeans and—" He cuts himself off, running a hand down his face. "God! I’m doomed."
Tao’s eyes widen comically, and he mutters, "Wow. Okay. That’s… an image I didn’t need, thanks."
Elle, on the other hand, looks like she might combust from excitement. "This is even better than I thought! You’ve got it bad, Charlie! Like, rip-his-clothes-off bad! This is so good for you!"
Charlie glares at her before grabbing his glass and chugging the rest of his drink, his cheeks flaming red. "It’s not good, Elle. It’s torture. I can’t stop thinking about him, and now I’ve ruined everything because he’s barely even talking to me anymore. And yet I still—ugh!"
Elle pats his shoulder, barely containing her grin. "It’s okay, Charlie. That’s just sexual frustration. We can fix that."
Tao leans forward, raising an eyebrow. "How on earth do we fix that?" he asks, motioning vaguely toward Charlie’s flushed face and frazzled demeanor.
Charlie immediately turns to Elle, already suspicious of her gleeful expression. He shakes his head frantically. "Oh no. Oh no, no, no. Whatever you’re thinking, Elle, it’s a no."
Elle beams at him, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh yes, Charlie. Yes, yes, yes! Hear me out—what if you showed up to drop off Remy with a hickey?"
Charlie’s jaw drops, and his face flushes an even deeper shade of red. "A hickey?! Are you out of your mind?!"
Elle leans forward eagerly, ignoring his protests. "Just imagine, Charlie! Imagine! He’d probably lose his damn mind! He’d get so jealous, all that tension would boil over, and boom! Problem solved. Sexual frustration dealt with, awkward silence gone—everybody wins."
Charlie buries his face in his hands, groaning. "I don’t want y’all meddling in my sex life!"
Tao shrugs nonchalantly, swirling the ice in his drink. "I mean, sex is healthy. Releases endorphins, improves mood, lowers stress levels. Seems like a win-win to me."
Charlie stares at Tao, his mouth slightly open in disbelief. "Are you seriously siding with her right now?"
Tao lifts his glass in a mock toast. "Hey, I’m just saying—if it works, it works."
Charlie groans, grabbing his glass and chugging the rest of his drink like it’s the only solution to his growing embarrassment. But apparently, that’s not enough for him, because he reaches over and grabs Tao’s drink too, tipping it back and draining it in one go.
Tao stares, wide-eyed. "Dude, that was mine."
Charlie slams the glass down on the table, his cheeks flushed—not just from the alcohol but from the entire conversation. "If I were to even try Elle’s insane plan, I’d need to find someone who’s actually willing to make out with me. And that’s..." He gestures vaguely, his voice rising in pitch. "That’s scary!"
Elle tilts her head, looking at him like he’s just announced the sky is green. "Charlie. Charlie. Look at you! You look like a dream. People would line up to make out with you!"
Charlie shakes his head furiously, his curls bouncing. "No, no, no. I’m not that guy. I can’t just walk up to someone and—"
Elle cuts him off with an exasperated sigh. "That’s the point of being here, Charlie! You don’t have to marry them or give them your life story. You’re just having fun! You’re overthinking it, like you always do."
Tao leans back, raising an eyebrow at Charlie. "And also, I’d like to point out—you just drained my drink, which means you’re already a step ahead. Liquid courage, my friend."
Charlie frowns, already feeling the alcohol warming his veins, and says, his voice slightly slurred but still defiant, "Fine. Fine. Point out one for me, and I’ll… I’ll at least dance with them. But I’m not promising anything about Elle’s insane plan."
Elle gasps dramatically, clapping her hands together. "That’s progress! I’ll take it. Okay, let me look." She scans the crowd like a hawk, her eyes glittering with excitement. "Tao, help me out here. We need someone cute!"
Tao leans back, squinting toward the dance floor like he’s inspecting a lineup of potential candidates. "What about the one with the neon green crop top?" he suggests, pointing toward someone dancing enthusiastically in the middle of the room.
Elle shakes her head. "No, no, too much energy. Charlie needs someone chill to match his vibes." She keeps scanning until her face lights up. "There! By the bar! The one in the black button-up, trousers and the watermelon socks. They’re just sipping their drink, not a care in the world. Perfect for easing Charlie in."
Charlie follows her gaze, his stomach flipping as he spots the person. They do look cool, calm, and collected. But still, the idea of walking up to a stranger makes him want to melt into the floor.
"I hate you both," he mutters, his voice a mix of dread and resignation.
"You’ll thank us later," Elle says cheerfully, giving him a little nudge.
Tao raises his glass—well, his empty glass, thanks to Charlie—and says, "To bravery."
Charlie sighs deeply, pushing himself up from his chair. "Fine. Dancing only."
"Deal!" Elle chirps, practically bouncing in her seat as Charlie trudges toward the bar, his nerves jangling with every step.
Charlie tries to psych himself up as he makes his way to the bar, muttering under his breath. "You can do this. It’s just a dance. You can do this. No big deal." He shakes out his arms, trying to rid himself of the nerves, and takes a deep breath as he reaches his target.
With what he hopes is a confident smile, he rests a hand lightly on the stranger’s shoulder. "Hey," he says, his voice surprisingly steady considering how his heart is pounding. "Would you… maybe want to dance?"
The stranger turns around, and Charlie freezes. His breath catches in his throat as he’s met with a pair of very familiar eyes. Nick.
It’s Nick.
Nick Nelson, his son’s teacher, the man who has been occupying his thoughts every waking moment lately.
For a moment, neither of them speaks. Nick looks equally stunned, his lips parting slightly as his gaze darts from Charlie’s face to the sparkly crop top and back again. Charlie feels heat rush to his face, his carefully built confidence crumbling instantly.
"Charlie?" Nick finally asks, his voice laced with surprise and something Charlie can’t quite place. "What… what are you doing here?"
Charlie’s hand drops from Nick’s shoulder as he stumbles over his words. "I—I could ask you the same thing! I mean, this is… wow, uh… hi?" His attempt at recovery is weak at best, and he can feel the tips of his ears burning.
Nick, to his credit, doesn’t seem to know what to do either. He’s holding a glass of what Charlie assumes is whiskey, and his knuckles are white around it as if he’s clinging to it for dear life.
"Hi," Nick says, his voice quieter now, almost shy. "I didn’t know this was… your kind of place."
Charlie blinks, his mind scrambling to form a coherent response. "It’s… not. I mean, it is. Tonight, it is. My friends dragged me out, and I—um…" He gestures vaguely at the bar, the music, the crowd. "You?"
Nick’s lips twitch into something resembling a smile. "I needed a drink, well too get wasted actually." he says simply, and then his eyes flicker to Charlie’s outfit. His gaze softens, and there’s something warm, something appreciative in the way he looks at him. "You… look good."
Charlie feels like the floor is going to give out beneath him. His mouth opens and closes as he tries to process the compliment, but the words don’t come. Instead, he blurts out the first thing that pops into his mind.
"Do you… still want to dance?"