Charlie POV

"I can't believe you didn't tell me!" Charlie shouted at Tao, his best friend since Year 7, as he stormed into his room at the, admittedly, romantic chalet his friend had booked for the Christmas holidays.

Tao rolled his eyes, leading Charlie to believe that Tao thought he was being dramatic. "Elle and I have been together since we were sixteen and seventeen," he shot back, "and now that we've graduated university, lived together, and have two years of stable jobs under our belts, I thought Christmas was a good time as any to—"

Charlie, who had begun throwing things into his luggage, held up a finger. "Don't say it."

Tao sighed in exasperation. "I thought you'd be happy for us!"

Charlie glared at him. "And I thought you would respect my boundary by not making me into a third wheel anymore."

Tao dragged his hand through his hair. "Isaac was supposed to come, but—"

"But he has his latest book tour, I know," Charlie answered with a huff; Isaac, their other best friend, was now a successful author, with his asexual protagonist taking the literary market by storm, and critics were already saying it would rival titles such as Harry Potter, Twilight, or The Hunger Games.

Tao finally seemed aware of what Charlie was doing and stepped forward, attempting to undo his packing job. "Charlie, you can't leave!" he cried out. "Elle will be upset—"

"Well, Elle isn't my fiancée, now, is she?" Charlie said, yanking the articles of clothing from Tao and shoving them back into his luggage. "It's your job to keep her happy. Or, better yet, it's her job to decide how to regulate her feelings."

Tao crossed his arms. "Charlie, that's not fair."

Charlie gritted his teeth; they were literally going around in circles, and he was growing tired of it. "No, what's not fair is you violating my boundaries, yet again, for your own selfish needs," he told him firmly. He focused on re-packing, before he folded up his luggage and proceeded to roll it out of his room, Tao at his heels. "I've already called an Uber, and booked a flight back to London. Besides, this way I can finish that project before New Year."

"Charlie, no," Tao said, grabbing ahold of his jumper and attempting to haul him back. "You don't have to go—"

Charlie looked over at Tao and glared at him. "If I stay here, it tells the world that I'm okay with you violating my boundaries. This is not okay, Tao, none of it is."

Tao hurried after Charlie as his oldest friend went down the stairs. "Charlie, hold on. Can't we talk about this?"

"I've been talking to you about this particular boundary since we left for university," Charlie called over his shoulder. "Just because I'm single, perpetually so, doesn't mean that I want to be hauled as a plus three on your various vacations as Elle."

"But you hardly go anywhere," Tao cried out.

"Not true," Charlie countered. "I visited Tori several times when she was at St. Andrews, and the Spring family reunion is held in Arona yearly." Charlie kept his eyes averted from Tao; how dare he complain that Charlie never traveled, given his yearly trips to Scotland while Tori got her PhD in Psychology, as well as to Spain for the Spring family reunion.

Tao reached out and placed his palm down on the door, preventing Charlie from opening it, and stared at him. "Please, don't do this," he begged.

Charlie glared at him. "Boundary," he informed him, staring pointedly at him for a moment, before his eyes looked over at his hand. "Did the Ben fiasco teach you anything? I hate being told that I can't do something, or being forced to stay somewhere where I'm clearly uncomfortable with the situation."

Tao immediately moved his hand off the door, watching as Charlie unlocked it. "At least Elle's in the studio," he huffed, mentioning the spare room in the chalet, which Isaac would have taken, had he come, which had been turned into an art studio for Elle, as she'd wanted to paint some of the snowy landscapes.

"Good, it's at the back of the house, anyway," Charlie said, stepping out onto the porch, and seeing that his Uber was coming up the drive. The only good thing about this trip had been the thermals, snow boots with grips, and other winter weather gear that Tao insisted he get. He'd been relieved not to have splurged on ski gear, however, as that was a hard no from him. "I'll text you when I get to the airport, and then again when I touch down in London," he said, and deliberately didn't look at Tao as he crossed over towards the car.

The Uber driver rolled down their window, and the lovely person behind the wheel called out to him, "Charlie Spring?"

Charlie nodded. "That's me. I've got it," he said, putting the luggage into the back of the car, before he climbed in after it.

"I'm Darcy," the driver informed him.

"You.... You're British," Charlie said, clearly relieved as they pulled out the drive and drove down the road.

"Glad to meet someone else from across the pond, my guy," Darcy said, flashing him a grin in the mirror. "What brings you to Brittany?"

Charlie sighed. "I thought it was just going to be a friends trip, but my best friend proposed to my other best friend," he answered morosely.

Darcy grimaced. "Oh, no," they responded. "You knew they were together, though?"

Charlie nodded. "Yeah, they've been together since we were in school," he replied. "But I told them both more than once that I don't want to be a third wheel. I know it sounds a bit pathetic, but—"

"Not at all," Darcy assured him. "You need to have boundaries, otherwise people will walk all over you."

Charlie smiled; he liked Darcy. "So what brings you to Brittany?" he asked.

Darcy grinned. "My wife," they answered. "She's dancing with the Paris Opera Ballet for the season, on loan from the Royal Ballet, and dancing lead in Paquita, a lovely ballet."

"Are you an Uber driver back in the UK?" Charlie asked hesitantly.

Darcy laughed. "No, but she's in rehearsals so much here, plus she also needs to rest a lot, and I wanted to see France. We thought this would be a good compromise, that way I make some money during my vacation time."

"What do you do, then?"

"Social work," Darcy told him, "with a broad focus on kids and adolescents labeled as 'troubled', which just so happen to frequently be in the LGBTQIA+ community. The plan is for Tara to retire in the next five years, to move on to teaching, or, potentially, opening her own dance school, and we intend to start a family. Right now, though, we have our fur babies, and my gran takes care of them whenever we need to leave the country for Tara's shows."

Charlie's jaw dropped. "Oh, my goodness—Tara? Tara Jones? I've seen her on stage," he said, and met Darcy's grin with one of his own. "She's absolutely brilliant."

"I'll be sure to let her know that she has another fan," Darcy informed him. "Next time you're at a ballet back in London, you'll have to come backstage and meet her."

Charlie chuckled awkwardly. "Oh, I don't know. She doesn't need a gay guy from Kent going on about her..."

"Shut the front door!" Darcy cried out. "We're from Kent, too! We went to Higgs."

Charlie's eyes widened. "Did you? I went to Truham!"

"Small world!" Darcy said, clearly pleased with themselves.

"Did you know Elle Argent?" Charlie asked.

"Of course—she's designed some of Tara's sets for the ballet, and we were in the same form in Year 11 back at Higgs," Darcy told him. "Last I heard, she's opened her own art gallery..."

"That's right, she opened it last spring," Charlie confirmed. "She's the girl that my best friend, Tao, was going to propose to."

"Oooh, awkward," Darcy said, shaking their head. "I know that her boyfriend, erm... Sorry, did she accept his proposal?"

"She did," Charlie told Darcy.

Darcy nodded. "All right. Her fiancée, worked for the BBC as an editor."

Charlie grimaced. "Yeah, Tao definitely saw his chance at a dream and went for it," he said. "I mean, we all did, career-wise, anyway."

"What do you do, then, Charlie?"

"I thought about going for a music major, but my mum, who's really controlling, would've never allowed that, so my drums are just a hobby for now," Charlie answered. "My mum wanted me to get into something maths related—an accountant, or something—but I didn't want to resent maths on the whole, so I refused. Instead, I studied classics and English literature, and ended up teaching at a secondary school in London. I actually really like it, and I want to ensure that future generations have a better time in secondary than I did."

Darcy looked at Charlie in sympathy. "Were people knobs because of who you are?"

Charlie sighed. "Something like that."

Darcy nodded. "I'm sorry. I had enough trouble wanting to wear trousers in Year 12. Thankfully, I made a good argument that, since boys could, I should be able to. That shut them up right quick, thankfully."

Charlie smirked. "Thankfully," he agreed.

Darcy continued driving, making small talk with Charlie here and there, and, after about a quarter of an hour, snow started coming down. "White Christmas," they said, and Charlie chuckled from the back seat. However, the snow began to worsen after another fifteen minutes, and Darcy peered up over the dash. "Black ice," they murmured, and the car began to skid, to the point where there was a popping sound. "Damn," they said, shaking their head. "Blew a tire, which means we'll need a wrecker."

Charlie nodded; he knew about the inclement weather, so he hadn't scheduled a flight until the following day, opting to stay in an airport hotel for the night. "Okay," he said, watching as Darcy checked their phone, using the SOS icon, due to there being no service.

Darcy made the call, synced their location to the wrecker, and nodded along. "Okay," they said after cutting the call. "It's going to be a while."

Charlie sighed. "How long?"

"Well, we're on the outskirts of Brocéliande Forest," Darcy said, looking around. "It's about forty minutes to the city center of Rennes, and, given the conditions, it'll likely be at least double that time, so, close to two and a half hours, I would think."

"I think I remember seeing a pamphlet for Le Relais de Brocéliande, a bed and breakfast, in the forest itself," Charlie said, remembering some of the things he'd seen when he, Tao, and Elle had gone into town for breakfast and groceries, before his heated argument with Tao that afternoon, which had led to his departure.

Darcy nodded. "We passed a sign for it a few minutes ago," they confirmed. "But I can't in good conscience let you go out into this, Charlie."

Charlie blinked. "Well, I release you from liability," he told her. "Besides, it's an adventure, and I have plenty of warm layers on."

Darcy looked unsure, but let out a sigh. "All right. At least give me your number so I can know that you're safe. That way, when you get back to London, we can touch base about you meeting Tara after a show."

Charlie nodded. "Sounds like a plan," he replied, and they swapped numbers. He then got out of the back of the car, and pulled his luggage after him. He held up a hand as he went, before he slammed the door behind him, and took off in the snow.

It wasn't too bad, he mused, as he could still see what was going on around him. Unsurprisingly, there were no cars on the road, but he followed the tire tracks that Darcy's car had made, as they had said that they'd seen a marker for the bed and breakfast on the road. His boots kept the snow out, his woolen socks kept his feet warm, and the grips proved to be excellent for this kind of weather he was faced with. He was wearing a hat as well, which trapped his curls against his head, although the ones that managed to escape quickly filled with the falling snow.

The walk in the falling snow gave him ample opportunity to think about his life: He had had that disastrous relationship with Ben, which had scarred him for life, both emotionally and physically, back when he was in Year 10 at Truham. He had resorted to cutting himself throughout its duration, once it had turned abusive, as Ben had constantly told him that no one would ever want him other than him, due to him being so desperate and pathetic as he was.

Charlie had finally told Tori about what was going on, which ultimately led to Tori telling their parents about everything, much to Charlie's mortification, although, now, he understood her reasons, and he was grateful for it. Charlie had become an inpatient, due to his self-harming, as well as refusal to eat, due to depression. He was diagnosed with anorexia and OCD, and had stayed there for three months. Ben, meanwhile, had been taken out of Truham and started fresh somewhere else, which was just fine with Charlie, as his therapist taught him to focus on himself and not others.

Charlie pushed forward in the snow; it had been several minutes since he'd left Darcy's car, and he couldn't see it anymore. Of course, with the snow coming down even harder, it was becoming difficult to see much of anything. However, as he rounded a bend, he saw the sign at last, and hurried towards it, taking in the information, before he turned onto the pathway into the forest that it indicated. He was shivering, his teeth chattering, as he made his way up the road, hoping beyond hope that there was room at the inn, so to speak.

However, once he got midway down the road, he came to a clearing, and there was no indication of which way he was supposed to go. Grimacing, there was no sign there either, and he huffed inwardly, before selecting a path at random, hoping that it would ultimately lead him somewhere where he could get warm, sleep, and have something to eat. A hot shower wouldn't be remiss either, he thought to himself, as he went as quickly as he could, as the area around him swirled with whiteness, which was practically blinding.

Once he'd graduated from Truham, things had gotten better; he was accepted into University College London, where he majored in Classics and English Literature. It was an altogether wonderful experience, being on his own; he seldom returned home, however, due to the contentious relationship with his overbearing mother, as well as his passive father. He would see Tori, and they would take it in turns visiting one another. Charlie had been happy when Tori remained with her high school boyfriend, Michael, who liked Charlie, always bringing him cat figurines for his birthdays and Christmas, much to his amusement, and Tori's annoyance. Tori and Michael now lived together in Surrey, where Tori operated her psychology practice out of their large, period home, and Michael was a librarian at the University of Surrey.

Charlie breathed out a sigh of relief as the trees thinned temporarily around him, and he saw a structure of what could only be a house opposite him at the end of the bath. It had what appeared to be an old bell tower attached to it, leading Charlie to believe it had once been a church, or, perhaps, a rectory. He was still shivering, due to the continued dip in temperature, but nevertheless persevered until he reached the porch of the property, and knocked at the door, his movements jarring, due to the cold.

Charlie tensed as he heard quick footsteps a moment later, and his throat went dry as he saw a literal Adonis opening the door, and staring down at him, with wide eyes. "Er, sorry," he said quietly, shaking his head with awkwardness. "My Uber got a flat, and I was looking for Le Relais de Brocéliande?" he asked, inwardly cursing himself; for all he knew, the gorgeous man in front of him only spoke French.

The man, instead, smiled, his eyes radiating kindness. "Yeah, that's about three miles that way," he said, pointing.

"Oh, um," Charlie said, and moved to back away.

"No, wait," he said, his tone gentle. "I can't let you go out there again. Come in," he said, and stood back.

Charlie hesitated; this man was a stranger, but he wasn't getting serial killer vibes from him, so he threw caution to the wind and stumbled over the threshold. "I really am sorry about this," he said, kicking the excess snow off his boots before the man shut the door behind him. "I'll just stay until the blizzard lets up, and then I can go."

"It's supposed to last until after Christmas," the man said, standing behind him, hands in his pockets, with a rueful expression.

"Right, of course it is," Charlie murmured, and took off his boots, once he saw that the man was in stockinged feet, and placed them beside the door. "Sorry, I'm Charlie, Charlie Spring," he told the stranger, taking off his hat and holding out his hand.

The man beamed, and accepted the handshake. "Nick, Nick Nelson," he said. "Come in, you must be freezing. I'll put you in one of the spare rooms and you can get some dry clothes on, then we can decide what to have for dinner."

Charlie followed in the taller man's wake. "You're British," he observed.

Nick looked over his shoulder at Charlie and grinned. "Yeah," he replied. "I'm from Kent, from this little town called Truham."

Charlie nearly stumbled in shock. "Wait—you too? My Uber driver was from there, but they went to Higgs. I'm guessing you didn't go there."

Nick chuckled. "No, can't say I did. I was supposed to go to Truham Grammar, but I got a last-minute try-out for St. John's, so I ended up going there."

"I went to Truham Grammar," Charlie told him as he was led past the living room and down a hallway, whereupon Nick opened a door, revealing a moderately-sized bedroom with a queen-sized bed, large windows, wardrobe, and desk.

"Will this be all right?" Nick asked, moving out of the way so that Charlie could inspect it. "The other room down here only has a double, and then the room at the end of the hall has two singles, whereas I sleep upstairs in the master..."

"No, this is great," Charlie assured him; they'd passed a loo in the hallway, so he knew where it was. "Why do you have a house here, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Oh, that," Nick said, shuffling slightly. "My dad was French, and he lived in Paris. This was his holiday home, of sorts, that he bought after he divorced my mum. He died when I was at uni, and me and my older brother, David, share it. He's married with kids now, so they use it, but his wife, who's American, persuaded him to take the kids with her to see her family in Vermont in the States for the holidays. So, I got the house this year..."

Charlie blinked. "Well, I'm sorry about your dad..."

Nick shrugged. "Don't be. We didn't see much of him in the divorce, and David was his favorite out of the two of us. He never really..." Nick shook his head. "Doesn't matter. Why don't you get settled in? You can have a shower if you like, to warm up, and then we can decide what to make for dinner, all right?"

Charlie nodded. "All right," he replied.

"I could take your clothes for you," Nick continued. "I have a washing machine and a tumble dryer by the kitchen."

Charlie smiled at him. "Sure. Just let me change into my dressing gown."

Nick nodded. "That's fine. I should check on Henry anyway."

Charlie blinked. "Henry?"

"Sorry, my pug," Nick responded awkwardly with a smile. "I got him ten years ago for Christmas, actually, and, after I got out of uni, I took him with me... Do you do well with dogs? I mean, he's old now, so he won't bother you if..."

"No, I love dogs," Charlie assured him. "My parents don't like animals, so my older sister, Tori, and I never had pets growing up. I've always wanted a dog, though, and I've been thinking about it since I got settled in my job in London."

"You work in London?" Nick asked. "Whereabouts?"

"Kingston Grammar," Charlie responded. "I'm an English teacher for Year 10 and Year 11 students there."

Nick's eyes widened. "I'm starting there next term," he said, gleeful. "I'm sure you heard that their physical education head is retiring?"

Charlie nodded. "Of course," he said, and hastily took off his coat, which Nick promptly took from him.

"I'll hang it in the hall for you," Nick said quickly. "And, yeah, he was old friends with my sport science professors from uni; I went to Leeds," he continued. "I was playing Rugby for a bit and then I got an injury, so I got the recommendation. It'll be so cool to know that I know someone else on staff there," he said, his cheeks pinking ever so slightly at that, clearly more enthusiastic about the position now. He noticed Charlie shivering and shook his head. "Sorry. You change into your dressing gown and get into the shower. I'll come back into the hallway and you can open the loo door a crack, and pass me your clothes. There's a small linen cupboard in the bathroom, filled with towels, and there's shampoo, conditioner, and body wash in there, left over from when David was here last."

Charlie sighed with relief. "Thanks," he responded gratefully, and opened his luggage as Nick left his borrowed accommodation, navigating his way through it until he found his dressing gown, deciding to unpack once he got out of the shower. He hurried down the hallway, hearing Nick whistling to himself from somewhere in the house, and went directly into the loo, before shutting the door behind him. The loo was quite nice, if not basic, with a standing shower, loo, and sink, with a large window on the wall beside the loo itself. Charlie hastily undressed, hearing Nick's footsteps outside the door, and opened the door a crack like they'd discussed, and handed off his clothes.

"I'll put these into the wash, Charlie," Nick called. "You take your time, all right?"

"Thank you, Nick!" he called back, and shut the door.

Charlie went into the linen closet and selected a large, blue towel, which was soft and smelled of lavender, likely from the little bag which hung inside the cupboard. He hung up the towel upon the peg outside the shower, before he opened the glass door, and reached outwards towards the nozzle in the center, which he adjusted to the temperature he liked. He likened the stream of water to a small, private waterfall, and imagined himself somewhere deep in the tropics, where it was likely warm, not like the snowstorm waging outside. He stepped into the shower, his cold muscles and limbs feeling immediate relief as they slowly but surely returned to their proper temperature, his curls lengthening temporarily beneath the stream.

He only showered for around ten minutes, washing and conditioning his hair, before he scrubbed his body and got out. He dried himself off expertly, before he re-hung the towel on the peg and made a grab for his dressing gown, still lying on the counter beside the sink. Slowly, he opened the door and peered out into the hallway; he could hear Nick speaking in a loving tone, likely to Henry, from the direction of the living room, so he quickly made his way back to his temporary bedroom and shut the door behind him. Walking over to his luggage, he unpacked his belongings and took out a pair of house socks, sleep pants, and an informal jumper, which he put on, before he rolled his luggage into the corner near the desk. There was a mirror on top of the desk, which he used to attempt to tame his curls into submission, and then he left the bedroom and made his way out into the living room.

"Is this Henry?" he asked, stepping forward, seeing Nick on the couch with a pug.

"Yeah," Nick said, beaming at him, and slinging the wizened pug under his arm, while walking towards him. "Henry, this is Charlie. Charlie, Henry."

"Hello, Henry," Charlie said happily, leading the old pug let out a small, indulgent moaning sound, pawing towards him, and Charlie took him when Nick handed him over. "You're so adorable," he cooed at him.

"You're great with him," Nick commented.

"I volunteered at various animal shelters in my uni days," Charlie admitted. "Even though I didn't have time for a pet, I wanted animals in my life. The dogs loved me."

"I can see why," Nick said, grinning at the sight. "Henry was my second dog growing up. I also had a border collie, Nellie, for years before. She died in my third year at Leeds, and it was pretty devastating for everyone, especially Henry and my mum."

"I can imagine," Charlie said, scratching Henry's back, as he looked up at Nick. "Are you close with your mum?"

"Yeah," Nick said, nodding. "She's still at the old house, up on River Crescent."

Charlie's eyes widened. "That's a ten-minute walk from my house!"

Nick blinked. "Is it?"

Charlie nodded. "Yeah," he said, shaking his head.

"So weird how we never met," Nick observed quietly. "Anyhow, her name's Sarah, and she's a children's oncologist. Her work is helpful to her, I think, because David lives in Cardiff now with his family."

"And what does David do?" Charlie asked.

"He initially went to university, in Glasgow, for history, but ultimately decided to get an architectural degree," Nick responded. "He's got a firm out there, and is one of the big bosses, I guess you'd call it. His wife, Cecilia, is lovely, and she's an estate agent. They're one of those families that has a housekeeper, a nanny, things like that. But they want the best for their kids, so they are actually taught Welsh at their secondary school, and they have a French tutor, because David wants them to be trilingual."

"Well, as long as it's not forced, I can see why that could serve them well," Charlie said with a smile. "My father's family is from Spain, but I'm absolutely shit at Spanish, even though he made me take it as a GCSE."

"Were they very strict, your parents, when it came to academics?" Nick asked.

"My mum, more so than my dad," Charlie admitted. "I think she's just glad I didn't major in music wherever I decided to go to university."

"Oh? Music?" Nick asked, obviously curious.

"Yeah, I play the drums, but it's mostly a hobby now," Charlie told him.

"You play the drums? That's so cool!" Nick cried, impressed. "I literally have no musical ability, I'm just a big, giant, former Rugby lad."

"Hey, don't sell yourself short," Charlie chastised him gently. "You're also really nice, plus you're great at hospitality, and you're an animal lover..." And ridiculously gorgeous, he thought to himself, but he didn't want to inadvertently out himself, only to realize that Nick may be homophobic, and content to let him freeze to death.

Nick chuckled. "That's nice of you," he said, and looked at the clock. "Shit, it's gone five. Let's see what's for dinner, then, shall we?" he asked, motioning for Charlie to follow.

Charlie followed Nick, so that they passed through the hallway and then into a wide, open-concept kitchen, which was lovely with cherry wood and exposed beams, the latter of which seemed to be a common theme, considering the living room had them, too. He watched as Nick opened the refrigerator, and continued stroking Henry.

"Do you have any allergies?" Nick asked. "Or intolerances?"

Charlie shook his head. "No," he replied. "Sometimes I take a bit longer to eat because... Well, I was diagnosed with anorexia in secondary," he blurted out. Just rip off the plaster, Spring, he thought to himself.

Nick looked over at him, and gave him a small, soft smile. "Thank you for telling me that, Charlie, really," he answered kindly. "I'm sorry you had to go through that."

Charlie smiled back at him. "You're welcome."

Nick turned back to the fridge. "I've got chicken, steak, pork chops... I've also got veg, pasta, rice, potatoes, bread, fruit... What are you thinking? I can make pretty much anything, but my cakes are to die for," he joked.

"Can you do soup?" Charlie asked. "Maybe chicken noodle soup with bread? On a cold night like this, it sounds perfect to me."

Nick looked up at Charlie, and Charlie noticed that his face softened for the briefest of moments, before he spoke again. "Yeah," he responded. "Perfect."