Chapter 42
When Nick wakes up, he is surrounded by warmth. Charlie’s arms are wrapped around him, holding him close, anchoring him in the soft comfort of Charlie’s bed, in the quiet sanctuary of Charlie’s home. He’s consumed by him—Charlie’s scent in the pillows, the steady rhythm of his breathing against his skin, the way his body naturally curls toward Nick, like even in sleep, he doesn’t want to let go.
It’s something Nick never thought he’d have again. Something he doesn’t think he deserves. But here he is, and it’s his. And God, it’s the happiest he’s been in a long, long time.
Charlie shifts slightly in his sleep, his breath warm against Nick’s neck, and Nick presses a soft kiss to his cheek before carefully—so carefully—trying to slip out of his arms. But the moment he moves, Charlie stirs, tightening his grip with a sleepy murmur of protest.
“No, don’t go,” Charlie mumbles, voice thick with sleep.
Nick smiles softly, brushing his fingers through Charlie’s hair. “I have to, Char. I’ve got my therapy appointment.”
Charlie hums in displeasure, pressing his face against Nick’s shoulder like that might make him stay. “Five more minutes. Please.”
Nick huffs a quiet laugh, but shakes his head. “If I stay five more minutes, I’ll be late.”
Charlie shifts, blinking drowsily up at him. “Will you come back after?” His voice is small, almost hesitant, like he’s worried about the answer.
Nick cups Charlie’s cheek, brushing his thumb over the faint stubble there. “Of course. I’ll be back right after. I’ll even make you breakfast if you want.”
Charlie hums again, this time in approval. “Yes, please.”
Nick grins, pressing one last lingering kiss to Charlie’s cheek. “Okay. Sleep, love. I’ll be back before you know it.”
Charlie barely gets out another soft sound of agreement before he’s already slipping back into sleep, his grip on Nick loosening just enough for him to slip away.
Nick moves quietly, gathering his clothes from the floor and cringing slightly at how wrinkled they are. He takes the fastest shower of his life, scrubbing away the remnants of sweat and sex with practiced efficiency, the scent of Charlie still clinging to his skin even after he’s dried off.
And then he’s out the door, slipping into his car and heading toward his appointment with Justin—his mind still full of the warmth he left behind, of the promise he made.
He’ll be back soon.
And for the first time in a long time, he truly can’t wait to come home.
Nick sits in Justin’s office, his fingers tapping lightly against his knee as he waits. The familiar setting is oddly comforting—framed diplomas on the walls, the faint scent of coffee in the air, the small potted plant Justin keeps on his desk.
When the door opens, Nick stands, greeting Justin with a one-hand shake.
“Oh, Nick,” Justin says warmly, setting his bag down. “Lovely to see you. I’m glad you’re still following through with these visits.”
Nick offers a small smile. “Yeah, of course. I’ve been doing really well.” He hesitates for only a second before diving in. “I know I told you last Thursday that Charlie was going to have his case with Ben. Well, it happened. And it went well—really well. Charlie won, which is such a relief. I think that’ll solve a lot of problems, not just with the conflicts we’ve had in our relationship, but also with my relationship with work.”
Justin nods, his expression encouraging. “I’m really glad to hear that. I had a feeling he would win.”
Nick exhales, the weight of the past few weeks easing just a little more. “Yeah. I’m really proud of him. And honestly, last night—after everything—it was like a huge weight had been lifted. I followed your advice about going to him and apologizing, and he forgave me. And, uh…” He rubs the back of his neck, suddenly a little self-conscious. “It was, like, the best night of my life.”
Justin raises an eyebrow, amused. “Is it weird to talk about sex with your therapist?”
With a small chuckle, Justin shrugs. “You can tell me whatever you want, Nick. If you want to talk about your sex life, go for it.”
Nick laughs lightly, shaking his head before sighing. “I guess what really stuck with me, though, is that it wasn’t just about last night. It was about how… how healing it felt. Not just the physical part—though, you know, great bonus—but the trust. I’ve always had this skewed idea of vulnerability. I think my dad drilled that into me growing up, and society didn’t help either. Being seen as masculine, being a football player, having girls’ attention—it all put me into these boxes. And in those boxes, vulnerability didn’t fit. At least, that’s what I was taught. My dad made sure of that.”
Justin listens attentively, nodding along.
“I think Grant was the first person who really showed me that vulnerability wasn’t a bad thing,” Nick continues, his voice softer now. “I’ve mentioned him before—my college boyfriend—but this isn’t about Grant. This is about Charlie. Because with Charlie, it’s different. With Charlie, I feel safe being vulnerable. When he let me apologize, when he just listened and trusted me again, it felt… I don’t know, right? Like I could let go of all that fear. It wasn’t just about sex, or even just about making up—it was about being open, about allowing myself to really be seen. And that—” He exhales, his smile turning softer. “That felt really, really nice.”
Justin smiles warmly, leaning forward slightly, his voice calm but unwavering. “Well, I have to say, I really like seeing this side of you, Nick. You’re usually a little more reserved, a little hesitant, but today you seem… open. Lighter. It’s nice.”
Nick flushes, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh, yeah, I guess it’s just been a crazy few days since we last talked,” he admits, trying not to sound too sheepish.
Justin nods, his expression thoughtful. “Well, whatever’s changed, I hope it’s a good thing. And listen, Nick, I want you to know something. What society teaches us about these boxes—these rigid, outdated stereotypes—it’s all completely ridiculous. The idea that someone’s sexuality can be determined by how they dress, how they talk, what they’re passionate about, their career choices? It’s nonsense. And worse, it’s harmful.”
Nick watches him intently, his fingers fidgeting slightly against his jeans.
“The idea that masculinity and vulnerability can’t coexist? Also false. You can be strong, tough, masculine—and still be soft, still be emotional, still be sensitive. In fact, I encourage it. Because repressing your emotions, forcing yourself into some unrealistic mold, that only leads to pain.” Justin tilts his head slightly, eyes kind but unwavering. “And this idea that being a football player, or an athlete in general, somehow negates queerness? That’s just another way society tries to force people into closets they never belonged in.”
Nick exhales, feeling that truth settle deep in his chest.
Justin watches him for a moment before saying, “It seems like you’ve always struggled with this, with figuring out how to exist outside of those expectations. Would you say that’s true?”
Nick shakes his head. “It wasn’t so much that I struggled to accept my sexuality,” he says slowly, choosing his words carefully. “I think I was just… confused. Because if I didn’t fit into those stereotypes, if I didn’t check all the so-called boxes, then where did that leave me? What did that make me?”
He pauses, glancing down at his hands before continuing. “I mean, Grant helped me understand that I didn’t have to abide by society’s expectations. He taught me that I could exist outside of those labels. But Charlie… Charlie was the one who actually made me believe it. Grant was great in his own way, and I had him when I needed him. But Charlie…” Nick huffs a small, almost disbelieving laugh, shaking his head. “Charlie is everything. He’s pure and kind and patient and—God, just the best person I’ve ever known.”
He swallows, his throat suddenly tight. “And sometimes, I can’t help but feel like I don’t deserve him. Like I was meant for someone like Grant, who loved me on his terms, when it was convenient, but not all the time. Because this… this love Charlie gives me? It’s constant. It’s unwavering. And sometimes, that terrifies me. Because what if I’m not what he deserves?”
Justin leans forward slightly, his voice gentle but firm. “You know, Nick, if you always make yourself sound as if you're unworthy of the things that every person deserves—the idea that you don’t deserve love, that you don’t deserve to understand who you are, whether that’s your sexuality, your gender identity, your beliefs, your passions, your dreams—if you always frame it like that, like you’re somehow not allowed to have those things… why is that?”
Nick exhales sharply, shifting in his seat, but Justin isn’t done.
“Because from what I see, you’re energetic, you’re expressive, and I love that. I love that you come in here and actually talk to me about your life, that you let me in instead of forcing me to pull things out of you. But even with that—this happy, lively version of you—you still act like you’re unworthy of certain things. And I don’t like that. So why do you feel that way?”
Nick hesitates, chewing on his lip before shrugging. “I mean… I guess I’ve just always been in relationships where being myself was okay—until it wasn’t. Until it became too much. Until it crossed some invisible line I didn’t know was there.”
Justin tilts his head, his expression calm but curious. “Can you go into that for me?”
Nick nods, exhaling slowly. “Yeah.”
And then—
A memory.
Nick is back in college, sitting in the campus cafeteria, the warm buzz of conversation and the clatter of trays filling the space around him. His fingers are loosely entwined with Grant’s, resting on the table between them. The moment feels easy, familiar, and Nick laughs at a joke Grant just made, his face lighting up with genuine amusement.
But then Grant shifts. His gaze flickers over Nick’s shoulder, scanning the room, tracking something Nick isn’t paying attention to. And then, just as smoothly as he had taken Nick’s hand, Grant pulls away. His fingers slide from Nick’s like they were never meant to be there, his posture going stiff as his eyes dart toward a group of football players entering the cafeteria.
Nick frowns, blinking at the sudden loss of warmth. It’s subtle, the way Grant straightens, the way he casually places his hands in his lap like nothing had happened, like they weren’t just holding hands seconds ago.
And maybe it shouldn’t matter. Grant is out, openly gay, confident in who he is. This isn’t a secret.
So why does it feel like it is?
Nick shrugs it off, as he always does. It’s just instinct, maybe. Just nerves. He tells himself it’s nothing.
Even if the small ache in his chest says otherwise.
Nick’s voice is quiet, hesitant. “Did I… did I do something wrong?”
Grant doesn’t answer right away. His gaze flickers to the football team, all gathered around, grabbing food, laughing, completely unaware of the weight pressing down on Nick’s chest. When he finally speaks, his tone is almost dismissive. “No. I mean, no. You’re just… you’re just Nick.”
Nick blinks, his stomach twisting. “What does that mean?” His voice wavers slightly, uncertainty creeping in. “What does ‘just Nick’ mean?”
Grant exhales sharply, still not looking at him.
“You’ve been different,” Nick continues, his voice now carrying a quiet urgency. “For weeks now, Grant. And I—I don’t understand. You go from being sweet and affectionate, from holding my hand in public, from cuddling me like you—like you actually care, and then suddenly, if we’re around a big group of guys, you act like I don’t exist. You let go of my hand. You don’t look at me the same. I don’t understand why.” His breath catches slightly. “What does ‘just Nick’ mean?”
Grant finally meets his eyes, but there’s something unreadable in his expression, something guarded. “Look, it doesn’t mean anything, alright? It’s just…” He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “It just means that you’re you.”
Nick’s chest tightens. “Is there something wrong with me?” His voice is smaller now, vulnerable in a way he hates. “I don’t get it. Everything was fine, and then I go to an away game, and suddenly it’s like we’re not. Like something changed. And I don’t know what I did to make you act like this.” He swallows hard. “You trust me, right? You know I’d never hurt you. You’re my boyfriend. I—I really care about you, Grant. So why does it feel like you don’t feel the same?”
Grant’s sigh is long, almost exasperated. He glances around the cafeteria, like he’s checking to see if anyone’s watching before he mutters, “Do you really want to do this here?”
Nick feels something crack inside him. “What do you mean?” he asks, barely above a whisper. “I don’t even understand what ‘this’ is.”
Grant’s jaw clenches. “Nick, you can be a bit much sometimes.”
Nick’s breath stutters. “A bit much?”
Grant shifts his weight, avoiding eye contact again. “I care about you. I do. But… it’s kind of nice when you’re away, you know? When there’s an away game, and I have time to breathe a little.”
Nick stares at him, feeling like the floor is tilting beneath his feet. “You… you think I suffocate you?”
Grant shrugs. “I mean, it’s nice to have a boyfriend, yeah. But I don’t need someone constantly smothering me, always touching me, always expecting me to cuddle with them after sex.”
Nick’s mouth opens slightly, but nothing comes out. He feels like he’s been slapped.
Grant presses on, oblivious to the way Nick is unraveling. “You know, we’re in college. I have homework too, just like you. I don’t have time to lie in bed all night. And I don’t always expect you to stay over afterward.”
Nick’s voice is hoarse when he finally speaks. “Stay over? Grant, I’m not—” He shakes his head. “I’m not a one-night stand. You’re my boyfriend. Of course I want to stay. Of course I want to hold you after.”
Grant huffs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, maybe I just don’t need that, Nick.”
Nick swallows against the lump forming in his throat, the stinging in his eyes. He bites the inside of his cheek, hard, willing himself not to break down in the middle of the cafeteria.
Nick blinks, his chest tightening as he processes Grant’s words. “I don’t… Why—why did you never tell me this?” His voice wavers, quieter now but no less pained. “I thought you liked when I stayed over. You never made it seem otherwise.”
Grant sighs, rubbing his temples. “Yeah, because I didn’t want to upset you.”
Nick exhales sharply, his frustration bubbling over. “Well, of course, I’m upset now! I just got told by my boyfriend that I smother him, that I’m too much.” His voice rises, emotions spilling out despite himself. “I don’t—I don’t want to be too much.”
Grant’s eyes dart around the café, his shoulders stiffening. “Nick, you’re being too much right now. You’re gonna cause a scene. Keep your voice down.”
Nick lets out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “Right. Right. God forbid I have emotions in public.” He crosses his arms, trying to steady himself. “Look, are you—are you breaking up with me?”
Grant sighs again, exasperated. “No, Nick, I don’t want to break up with you.” He hesitates, running a hand through his hair. “But, I… I care about you, okay? I really do. I’m glad that being with me has helped you realize your sexuality isn’t something to be ashamed of. But… along with that, you—Nick, you need a lot of attention.”
Nick stares at him, his stomach twisting. “I—what?” He shakes his head, trying to understand. “I didn’t mean to be too emotional or—or too much, I just… I feel deeply, Grant. You know that. You’ve always known that.”
Grant nods, but there’s something distant in his gaze. “I know. And that’s why I’m saying this. It’s just… it’s just who you are, Nick.” He exhales, looking anywhere but at Nick’s face. “You have really high emotions and high needs.”
Nick swallows hard, his voice smaller now. “You think I have high needs?”
Grant shrugs, frustration creeping into his tone. “I don’t know, Nick. But what I do know is I don’t want a boyfriend who clings to me 24/7 like I’m the parent and you’re the kid, begging for attention.”
Nick flinches, the words cutting deeper than they should. He blinks rapidly, trying to keep his composure. “Oh. I… I’m sorry I made you feel like you had to parent me.”
Grant’s eyes widen slightly, his posture stiffening. “Nick, that’s not what I meant.”
Nick forces a tight-lipped smile, his hands gripping the edge of the table. “No, but it’s what you said. It’s what you implied.” He inhales shakily, his heart aching. “I really did care for you, Grant. But I don’t know how to not feel. I don’t know how to stop asking for love, for connection. That’s just… that’s just who I am.”
Grant leans back, rubbing his temples. “Exactly,” he mutters. “That’s just you.”
Nick’s throat tightens. “You make ‘just me’ sound like a problem.”
Grant exhales heavily, looking at Nick as if he’s searching for the right words. But in the end, all he says is, “Maybe it is.”
And just like that, something inside Nick cracks.
Nick doesn’t know what to say. What can he say? He can feel the words building up in his throat, heavy and sharp, but none of them make sense. None of them feel right.
Why would you—? Why would you—?
He takes a deep breath, his hands clenched so tight his nails dig into his palms. “I’m sorry,” he says finally, voice small, pathetic. “I’m a problem. I never meant to be a problem.”
Grant sighs, the kind of sigh that sounds like it’s carrying the weight of something long overdue. “And I’m sorry that I… can’t give you what you need.”
The words should feel like a warning, but they don’t—not yet. They feel like something else, something softer, something that might still be fixable. But then Grant keeps talking, and Nick feels the ground start to crack beneath him.
“I just don’t think I can do this anymore,” Grant says, quiet but firm.
Nick blinks, his heart hammering in his chest. “No,” he says, shaking his head. “But I— I like you, Grant. I really do. I don’t want to say goodbye.”
Grant gives him a sad smile. “You can’t make me into someone I’m not, Nick. And you shouldn’t have to try.”
Nick swallows, his throat burning. “But—”
“You deserve someone who allows you to be emotional. Who meets you where you are, who holds you the way you need to be held,” Grant says, his voice gentle but unyielding. “That’s not me. I’m not as vulnerable as you. I’m not as intimate as you. I don’t like affection as much as you do. I’m more reserved. And I like being reserved.”
The words hit like a punch to the gut. He’s too much. That’s what Grant is saying, isn’t it? Nick is too much—too emotional, too affectionate, too desperate for something Grant was never going to give.
“Oh,” Nick breathes out. “Okay.” He forces a nod, forces his feet to move as he stands up, grabbing his backpack with hands that shake just slightly. “Yeah, um… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—” His voice falters, and he shakes his head again, swallowing down the lump forming in his throat. “Never mind.”
He walks away before Grant can say anything else. He doesn’t know where he’s going, doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do with all the thoughts swirling violently in his head. But there’s only one person he wants to see right now.
Otis.
Because Otis always knows what to do. Otis always knows how to calm him down, how to make sense of the mess in his head. And right now, Nick doesn’t know anything except this:
The first real person he thought he could love just told him he was too much.
Too much.
Too much.
And Nick doesn't know how to be anything else.
Justin watches Nick carefully, his expression gentle but unwavering. “So because of that moment with Grant,” he begins, voice even, “because he told you that you ask for too much, that you give too much, you’ve convinced yourself that you are too much. That you don’t deserve what’s been given to you.”
Nick exhales, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his sweater. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “I guess I feel like I might be too much for Charlie. I don’t want to suffocate him. And because Charlie says he loves me, because he acts like he loves me, it makes me wonder if I even deserve it. If it’s real. Maybe he just says it because he knows how much I doubt myself, because he wants me to feel like I’m worthy of something. But what if I’m not? What if I am too much?”
Justin leans forward slightly, his eyes warm but steady. “Nick, wanting connection after sex, wanting intimacy, wanting to hold someone—to be held—that doesn’t make you too anything. It doesn’t mean you’re asking for too much.”
Nick lifts his gaze, doubtful. “Then what does it mean?”
Justin smiles, small but certain. “It means you’re a person who is in tune with his emotions. And I like that, Nick. Because when you first came in here, it felt like you were shutting everything out, like sadness and grief were the only emotions you knew how to hold. But now?” He shakes his head slightly. “Now I see someone who allows himself to feel. To feel happiness, to feel connection, to feel vulnerability. And that? That’s not a weakness. That’s not a flaw.”
Nick swallows hard, his throat tight.
“You’ve always felt deeply, always loved fully,” Justin continues. “And that’s not a curse, Nick. That’s a gift. And if Charlie is the right person for you, he won’t just accept that—he’ll embrace it. He’ll want you to be vulnerable with him. He’ll want to hold you after sex, to hear everything that’s weighing on your mind, to hold you through all of it. That’s what love is.”
Justin’s voice softens, but his words land firm. “You’re not too much, Nick. And you are not asking for too much.”
Nick exhales sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. “So what am I supposed to do? Just go back to Charlie’s and act like everything’s fine? Like we didn’t just have this huge argument and take a break?” His voice wavers slightly, frustration and uncertainty twisting in his chest.
Justin, ever calm, leans forward slightly, his expression steady. “What you do,” he says, voice firm yet kind, “is go back to Charlie’s and live your life. The life you’ve built with him. Right now, I see someone who is engaged, present, talking to me—really talking. And that’s good, Nick. But I don’t want you to feel like I’m the only person you can talk to. You need to be able to open up to the people who matter to you—your mom, your best friends… and especially Charlie.”
Nick shakes his head, doubtful. “And if I go back and I still have doubts? If I still feel uncertain about things? If I need space to figure it out?”
Justin nods. “Then tell him. Talk to him. Be honest about what you’re feeling. That’s the whole point of a relationship, Nick. If Charlie is the right person for you, he’s going to listen. He’s going to hear you out. He’s going to hold you when you need to step back and breathe. Because that’s what love is—being there, even when it’s messy, even when it’s complicated.”
Nick sighs, staring at the floor. “And that’s not asking for too much?”
Justin gives a small, knowing smile. “It’s not too much,” he assures him. “Not if you’re willing to give him the same in return. When Charlie needs to be vulnerable, you let him. When he needs reassurance, you give it. When he asks to be held, you hold him.”
He leans back, folding his hands together thoughtfully before continuing, “People like to say relationships are 50/50, but I don’t believe that. I think they’re 100/100. You give 100% of yourself—your energy, your honesty, your vulnerability—and in turn, your partner gives 100% back. But that doesn’t mean it’s always going to be perfectly balanced. There are going to be days where you can only manage 75%, and Charlie is going to have to give 125%. And there are going to be days when the roles are reversed—when Charlie can only give 75% and you have to give more.”
Nick stays quiet, taking it in.
Justin’s voice softens. “Relationships aren’t easy. There will be disagreements, there will be hard days. But love? Love itself isn’t complicated. Not when both people are willing to understand each other. Not when both people choose each other—even when it’s hard.”
Nick exhales again, this time slower, steadier. He’s not sure all of his doubts are gone, but maybe—just maybe—he’s starting to understand.
Nick smiles a little as he stands, reaching out to shake Justin’s hand with a firm, grateful grip. “You really do help me out. Thank you. I know it’s your job, but you do a damn good one.”
Justin chuckles, clapping Nick on the back with an easy familiarity. “Well, I’d hope so. Been at it long enough.” His expression softens, warm and knowing. “But really, Nick, I like this side of you. I can still see the grief, the sadness—it’s there, and I’m not asking you to shove it away. But above all that, there’s happiness now. And it looks good on you. It looks like Charlie makes you happy. More than that, it looks like you’re starting to accept yourself, and I love to see it.”
Nick exhales, something unspoken settling in his chest. “Same time in a few days?”
“If you keep showing up, I’ll keep showing up.”
Nick nods, a small, real smile curving his lips. “Okay. Thank you, Justin.”
With that, he heads out, slipping into his car and driving toward Charlie’s place, because, honestly, there’s nowhere else he’d rather be. At the end of the day, his heart will always lead him back to Charlie.
When he arrives, he’s relieved to find the door still locked, exactly as he left it. A sense of ease settles over him as he steps inside, quietly locking up behind him before heading to the bedroom. There, sprawled in sleep, is Charlie—peaceful, untouched by the weight of the morning. One arm is stretched across the empty space where Nick had been, fingers curled like they were searching for him even in sleep.
Nick’s breath catches.
Softly, he leans down, brushing a kiss to Charlie’s forehead before pulling back and heading to the kitchen.
Because this? This is the life he wants.
The simple act of making breakfast in Charlie’s home, of moving through this space like he belongs, of knowing Charlie is just down the hall, wrapped up in sleep—it’s everything.
He’s spent so long feeling like he’s too much, like he takes up too much space, like the weight of his grief, his past, his heart is too heavy for anyone to carry. But here, now, in the quiet of this home filled with warmth and love, he finally lets himself believe:
He is not too much.
And he never will be.