Chapter Text
Nick’s jaw clenched as the tail end of his truck, full of his weekly supplies, hit a pothole as he drove down the narrow road that led to his farm. He’d been driving this road for almost two decades now and he still forgot to dodge that bloody hole every single time. He glanced over at Nellie, his border collie, who was staring at him and he waved his hand in dismissal. “Oh, piss off,” Nick grumbled, glancing in the rearview mirror to check nothing had fallen out of his truck. “I’d like to see you do any better, if you’re going to sit there and be so judgemental about it.”
Nellie whined in response before huffing through her snout where her whiskers were starting to grey. She looked out the window and Nick felt his lips quirk up slightly at the corner. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. You’re getting cranky in your old age, y’know. You’re supposed to save it for the sheep, not me.”
Nick turned the tuning dial on the radio and a series of different songs mixed with static crackled through his old speakers. Although his truck was on the verge of being considered an antique in a museum, he swore by its stereo system. He turned the dial again to stop the shuffling when a familiar tune filled the cabin. He glanced over at Nellie, who was once again sending him a sceptical look, her ears twitching in apparent disapproval.
“What? You don’t like this song?” Nick chuckled, his voice tinged with amusement. Nellie yawned widely, exposing her teeth and gum line, and Nick rolled his eyes as he reached for the dial to change it again. Suddenly, Ain’t no Sunshine by Bill Withers came on and Nick grinned from ear to ear. “Now I know you like this one!” he exclaimed and cranked up the volume so he could sing along. Nellie immediately wagged her tail and Nick could almost picture her singing with him.
Ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone
It’s not warm when she’s away
Ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone
And she’s always gone too long
Anytime she goes away
Just as the chorus hit, they rounded a bend and Nellie stood up on all four legs in the passenger seat, her ears on high alert.
“What is it, Nel?” Nick asked, as he turned down the radio, his eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of trouble. At first, he didn’t see anything out of the ordinary, just the vast expanse of countryside stretching out before them. But then, a dark smudge in the distance caught his attention, a plume of black smoke rising into the crisp, clear blue sky.
As they drew closer, Nick’s eyes widened in surprise. Parked by the roadside was a sleek, black BMW, its glossy exterior gleaming in the sunlight. It was a stark contrast to the rugged terrain surrounding them, like a diamond amongst the rough. Next to the car stood a man, impeccably dressed in a suit and shoes that looked like they belonged in one of the magazines old Rory sold at his seed and feed shop in town, rather than out here in the middle of nowhere.
Nick furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, absentmindedly scratching at his beard. In all his years of venturing down this road, he had never once run into a single soul, let alone someone as polished as this man. The sight was enough to make him wonder if he’d taken a wrong turn somewhere and stumbled upon a completely different world.
The man wasn’t short by any means, but definitely shorter than Nick, his stature accentuated by his slim build. The man’s hair seemed to defy gravity, each curl perfectly coiled and arranged atop his head as if meticulously sculpted by a god. The sight made Nick glance at himself in the rearview mirror and he sighed at the state of his own auburn locks that were wind swept, and clumped together from sweat and grease from the multiple times he’d run his hand through them.
The man appeared to be in distress and delivered a sharp kick to one of the car tyres before slumping against the vehicle. He seemed to hear Nick’s truck approach because his head whipped around. Nick’s breath hitched in the back of his throat as the bluest of blue eyes captivated Nick’s brown ones. They were as blue as the sky above and just as vast.
A part of Nick hesitated, torn between the urgency of his responsibilities back home and the magnetic pull of the stranger’s gaze. He was already late to feed the sheep and they were a grumpy lot; he could picture them now, their bleats of protest echoing in his ears. His mother’s face popped up into his mind, her kind smile urging him to lend a helping hand. From a young age, she had always instilled in him the importance of caring for others, of being there for others in need.
With a defeated sigh, he pulled up beside the man and yanked the hand brake. He rolled down the window and rested his arm out the car’s window frame before addressing the stranger.
“Car troubles?” Nick asked.
The stranger looked up at him with a mixture of frustration and resignation in his eyes, and with a sardonic twist to his lips, he replied, “No shit, Sherlock.”
Nick blinked at him a couple times, not sure if he'd heard him right. Of all the things he’d expected, sarcasm wasn’t one of them.. He didn’t expect the man’s English accent either; you didn’t find many other English people out here in the Scottish highlands.
“Well, do you want a lift?” Nick offered with a polite smile, hoping to show he didn’t mean any harm.
“What!? So you can rob me and then murder me? Or lock me up and keep me as a pet? Yeah, I think not, farm boy,” the stranger retorted, spitting out the last two words as if it was a malicious slur.
Nick’s jaw tightened slightly at the accusation, but he maintained his composure, refusing to be baited by the stranger’s hostility.
“Look, here are your options,” Nick began, his voice steady. “You can either walk that way,” he pointed behind him, “for fifty miles or so until you reach the nearest town. “Or you can walk that way,” he said, as he pointed in the opposite direction, “for seventy miles until you reach civilisation. Or, the third option, is you can catch a lift back with me to my farm and call a mechanic. The choice is yours.”
The stranger sneered, his defiance evident as he tilted his head in a grimace of disgust. “I think I’ll walk,” he snarled, his tone dripping with disdain.
Nick shrugged, unfazed by the stranger’s stubbornness. “Fine by me,” he replied with a hint of sarcasm. “I should warn you though, it’s one treacherous walk, especially in the summer. Fifty miles of Scottish heat, no shade in sight, and not a drop of water to be found. Not to mention the wildlife you’ll encounter along the way,” Nick nibbled at the inside of his cheek to stop himself from chuckling at the stranger’s face, slowly falling and paling. “But hey, if you’re feeling adventurous, who am I to stop you? Just don’t say I didn’t try to help.”
Nick paused, waiting for a response, as the stranger stared at his expensive looking shoes that were coated in mud. After being met by nothing but silence, Nick finally decided to speak up again.
“Alright, bye then. If you happen to run into a lynx, throw your arms up and attempt to appear larger! Good luck!” Nick said with a faux friendly tone, shifting his gear stick into first and yanking off the handbrake. The truck started to lurch forward a couple of paces as he tapped the accelerator.
“Wait!” The stranger exclaimed loudly, throwing his hands up in the air desperately. Nick quickly put his foot on the brake and looked back at the stranger whose eyes were so wide they could’ve rolled out of his head.
That’s what I thought, he smirked to himself.
“Yes, can I help you?” Nick asked sweetly, batting his eyelashes down at the man.
“Are there really lynx out here?” The man whispered, fear evident in the way his voice wavered. For a moment, Nick almost felt bad for teasing him.
Nick fought to keep a straight face, knowing full well that he was about to add fuel to the fire of the man’s anxiety. “Oh yeah, they’re everywhere,” he replied with a playful grin, he heard Nellie groan next to him but ignored her. “Big ones, too. They’ve been known to take down full-grown cows. I’ve lost a couple of my own to one just this past spring.”
The stranger’s eyes widened in horror, and Nick couldn’t deny he was enjoying just how easy it was to wind this man up. It serves him right.
“Hold on,” the man huffed, his shoulders slumping in defeat. With a swift turn, he opened his car door and bent down to reach over to the passenger side. Nick couldn’t help but notice the way the fabric of the man’s suit stretched over his derrière, accentuating the muscular curves underneath.
The man stood up with a backpack in tow and tucked a couple of things inside it before throwing it over his shoulder. Nick watched the stranger walk around the truck to the passenger side door. Nellie barked at him and Nick watched with satisfaction as the stranger yelped and jumped backwards, his arms flailing in a comical attempt to regain his balance.
Nick couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. It was a small victory, but it was satisfying nonetheless. “Get in the back, Nel,” Nick ordered and the border collie obeyed, swiftly leaping into the back seat. The stranger glared at Nick as he begrudgingly climbed up into the passenger seat.
Nick waited for the stranger to buckle up. When he didn’t, Nick waited a moment more before saying “buckle up”. He caught the eye roll from the stranger but safety first.Once the other man was settled, he revved the engine.
“Wait! We need to get Norman!” The stranger shouted just as Nick was about to pull away.
“Who the hell…” Nick muttered under his breath, but quickly caught himself. He sighed and turned to face the other man. “Who is Norman?”
To his surprise, the stranger appeared almost… desperate. “He’s buckled in the front seat, please go get him,” he begged, his bottom lip jutting out ever so slightly.
What on earth have I gotten myself into?
Nick dutifully unbuckled himself and climbed out of his truck with the engine still running. He expected to see a dog, or even a small boy, but what he did see was baffling.
There, in the front seat, sat a tall, leafy plant that was safely buckled up in the passenger side. “Err, is Norman green?” Nick called over his shoulder, the disbelief evident in his tone.
“Yes and please be careful with him!” The man shouted from behind him.
Nick unclipped the seat belt buckle, shaking his head in disbelief that this was actually happening. Carefully, he lifted the blue plant pot, tilting it slightly to ensure “Norman’s” leaves didn’t brush against the car’s roof. As he made his way towards the stranger, he couldn’t shake the feeling of being scrutinised under his intense gaze. The other man was watching his every movement, as if Nick was carrying a newborn baby.
The stranger’s face lit up as Nick approached, eagerly awaiting his precious Norman. He happily accepted the pot from Nick’s hands, cradling it gently in his lap. With a tender touch, the man examined the plant’s leaves.
There was silence between them as Nick moved back to the driver's side and began to drive.
“So, what brings you all the way out here?” Nick asked and turned up the radio slightly in an attempt to lighten the tension in the atmosphere.
“You don’t have to do that,” the man murmured, his venomous tone making a reappearance.
“Do what?” Nick asked, completely stumped.
“Make small talk,” the stranger deadpanned. Nick found himself speechless and instead of responding, pursed his lips together and nodded slightly, before simply focusing on the road. After a couple of minutes, the stranger groaned loudly. “If you must know, I’m on… holiday, but my good-for-nothing Sat Nav died on me and one wrong turn in this god forsaken place you’re done for.”
Nick bit his lip to conceal a laugh, but it escaped him anyways, earning him an even sharper glare from the man. If looks could kill, Nick knew he’d be on life support.
“Are you seriously laughing at me?” the stranger scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest.
“No! No, I just…” Nick attempted to change the subject, but he was laughing again against his will.
“You’re incredibly rude, farm boy,” the stranger said, though this time there was a hint of amusement in his tone, softening the sharpness of his words.
“My name is Nick,” Nick grumbled out. “And if I was rude, I would’ve carried on past you and not offered a lift.”
The stranger’s lips quirked into a lopsided grin, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes. “Whatever.”
“What’s your name then, rich boy?” Nick asked, mimicking the stranger’s accent.
The stranger huffed and rolled his eyes yet again, but spoke regardless. “Charles.”
“Charles?!” Nick asked incredulously, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “That doesn’t seem right…” he hummed, giving the man a quick once over. “I think you’re more of a Charlie.”
The newly appointed Charlie looked at Nick dubiously as he bristled, his expression souring at the suggested nickname while his jaw tensed. “Charlie? Excuse me?” he retorted, his tone dripping with indignation. “What makes you think you have the right to give me a nickname?”
“Would you prefer ‘rich boy’? You know, since you’ve dubbed me with the nickname ‘farm boy’ and all,” Nick replied dryly, taking a chance to look at the other. When he noticed Charlie’s lips press into a thin line, he nodded. “Right, Charlie it is then.”
Charlie scoffed in response to Nick’s teasing. Nick grinned to himself in victory and cranked the radio up even louder, the bass vibrating the truck as he pressed his foot down. They didn’t talk for the rest of the drive and neither of them seemed to mind.
As Nick’s truck navigated the last bend in the road that led to the brown brick farmhouse, a picturesque scene unfolded before them. Perched near the edge of a cliff in the distance, the farmhouse offered stunning panoramic views of the surrounding countryside. Below, waves crashed against the rocky shorelines, their rhythmic melody echoing through the air along with the smell of salt water.
Near the farmhouse, a traditional barn that was connected to multiple outdoor animal pens stood tall. The fields surrounding the farmhouse were alive with activity; sheep grazed peacefully in the lush green pastures and a horse contentedly munched on grass nearby. A herd of cows lazily swished their tails near the backdrop of cliffs. In the distance, fields of wheat and barley swayed gently in the breeze, their golden hues gleaming underneath the sun’s rays. Nick pulled into the small area he’d marked as his driveway that was in front of the barn before turning the engine off, clapping his hands on his denim-clad thighs.
He looked over at Charlie, whose face was full of nothing but awe as he looked around. When his eyes landed on Nick, the grumpy and sassy facade Charlie had been wearing quickly returned. “Are you sure you have a signal out here for me to call a mechanic?” he asked, reaching into his pocket for his phone. “Because I’ve had no bars for like an hour on that road.”
“It’s called a landline, darling,” Nick replied, before opening the door and hopping out of his truck. “I’m sure that those exist, even in your world.”
“My world?” Charlie huffed, stepping out of the truck. Nick watched as Charlie suddenly disappeared from view and let out a high pitched yelp. Nick quickly ran around the front of the truck and felt his face split into a grin as Charlie tried to sit himself up, his face covered in mud. Charlie growled out in frustration, standing up as he wiped off his shirt and eyes. “You’ve got to be kidding me! Can this day get any worse? This suit was easily £400!” he scowled.
“Yeah, we had a bit of rain a couple of days ago,” Nick frowned, putting his hands on his hips as he bit his bottom lip. “I didn’t think about the leftover mud that’d be sticking around.”
“Nick, these are red-bottomed shoes!” Charlie hissed, lifting his mud-caked foot up.
“Correction, they were red bottomed shoes. They’re more of a… swampy brown now,” Nick offered, unable to hide his grin. He glanced behind Charlie, his eyes flickering over to the tail end of the truck and they met a similar looking pair of hazel ones. Sarah was frowning as she looked at Charlie, her brows knitted together in motherly concern before she gave Nick a disapproving look.
'Help him,’ she mouthed, waving her hand towards the man. Nick sighed, shaking his head at her in disagreement and she nodded her head once more with encouragement. “You know I would if I could,” she said out loud, putting her hands on her hips before her eyes focused back on Charlie, who was consistently on the verge of doing the splits from the slick mud. “Poor baby looks like Bambi on ice, he needs a bath and a home cooked meal after all he’s been through today. Oh, maybe you can even get him to watch a movie with you.”
Nick rolled his eyes, biting the inside of his cheek as he held a hand out for Charlie to steady himself with. “C’mon. Let me help you.”
Charlie jerked his arm backwards as if Nick had rabies. “I’ll manage,” he muttered petulantly. Nick’s lips pressed into a thin line as he looked at Sarah, trying to prove his point that Charlie was a lost cause, only to see she wasn’t there anymore.
Oh. Right.
Sarah hadn’t actually been there for a long while now.
“Charlie, we have a long walk up to the house. I’ll let go of your hand once we’re clear of the mud, okay?” he urged, keeping his palm stretched outward. “I… I’m sorry about the clothes and the shoes… and the joke that followed,” he muttered.
Charlie’s eyes met his, narrowing for a moment, and he stared at Nick’s hand before wiping his own on his trouser leg, finally accepting the help. As Charlie gripped Nick’s hand, Nick dug the heel of his work boots into the ground, becoming a steady force as Charlie managed to stand up straight. Nick guided him a few feet forward, whistling for Nellie to hop out of Charlie’s side. She didn’t skip a beat, jumping down and running ahead before sitting and waiting patiently. Nick guided Charlie to put one foot in front of the other before he could feel the ground beneath them become firmer and he knew that the coast was clear.
As promised, he let go of Charlie’s hand before walking back over, grabbing Norman and closing Charlie’s door. The last thing he needed was for a sheep or a horse to chew on his seat. Again. He turned around, watching with mild amusement as Charlie walked with his legs parted awkwardly like a child who’s had an accident in an attempt to avoid getting another speck of dirt on him.
“He really doesn’t like asking for help, does he?” Sarah asked beside Nick as she appeared next to him once more. Nick sighed, squinting against the sun’s rays as he crossed his arms.
“No, he doesn’t seem like the type,” Nick agreed with a shake of his head.
“Looks like you two already have something in common then, eh Nicky?” Sarah beamed at him, nudging his shoulder. Nick scoffed, looking down at her.
“I know when to ask for help,” Nick argued, but Sarah simply rolled her eyes at his words.
“Right, and that’s why you’re standing here, talking to your dead Mum, hmm?” she asked sweetly, tilting her head with a dazzling grin.
“You were a lot nicer when you were alive,” Nick grumbled, letting his arms fall at either side as he ran to catch up with Charlie. While he ran, he could hear Sarah yelling behind him.
“That’s because I’m a part of you and you know it, darling!” she shouted, followed by a giggle.
Nick promptly ignored Sarah and instead watched as Charlie walked up the porch like a newborn calf, his legs wobbling and his fist clenched so hard on the wooden rail that his knuckles were a bright white. Careful not to get too close, Nick lingered behind the man, ready to catch him just in case.
Nick led Charlie through the front door and they stepped onto well-worn wooden floorboards that creaked slightly underfoot, echoing with the history of the place. The walls were adorned with vintage paintings and framed photographs, mostly of Nick and Sarah.
The furniture was a mix of sturdy, handcrafted pieces and vintage finds, arranged in cosy clusters throughout. A plush, floral-patterned sofa sat opposite a stone fireplace. Nearby, a faded leather armchair beckoned invitingly, its armrests worn smooth from years of use.
The kitchen, where Nick guided Charlie towards, was the heart of the home. Nick had many fond memories of baking with his mother here. It was easily his favourite room in the house. It boasted an old-fashioned charm with its soft, buttery cream coloured walls and a dark slate flooring. The cabinets were painted a cheerful white, their glass-fronted doors revealing an array of antique kitchenware. A farmhouse sink nestled beneath a window, offering views of the rolling countryside beyond.
In one corner of the kitchen, there was a small wooden table and chairs that Nick had rarely had time to enjoy since his mother’s passing. Above it, hung a wrought-iron chandelier with two of its four lightbulbs missing.
Despite its slightly outdated appearance, the farmhouse exuded a sense of comfort and nostalgia that was unmistakably Nick’s mother’s touch. Every corner of the house held memories of her, and Nick cherished it all – the quirks, the imperfections, and the timeless beauty that made it feel like home.
Charlie’s eyes scanned the kitchen and Nick didn’t appreciate the judgemental look on his face.
“What?” Nick asked with raised eyebrows, as he placed Norman on the window sill behind the sink, so he’d get the best of the light without being in direct sunshine.
“I feel like I’m stepping into the 1970’s. You do realise this is the 21st century, right?” Charlie commented, his voice tinged with incredulity.
Nick didn’t know why, but the words made him bristle and he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of defensiveness. “First I offer you a lift, then I help you out of the mud, carry your stupid plant,Then, I invite you into my home and… my mum designed it, actually.”
“Okay, whoa, Norman is not stupid, thank you, and where is your mum then? Maybe she can help me with-” Charlie started, but Nick interrupted him.
“She’s dead,” Nick deadpanned and instantly regretted it by the way the air around them grew thick, almost suffocating. His response was terse, the words slipping out before he could stop them. He bit his lip and internally cringed at himself.
Great going, Nelson. You bloody idiot, way to make things even more uncomfortable.
Nick scanned the room with his eyes, avoiding direct eye contact with Charlie. Instead, his gaze settled on Sarah, who leaned against the kitchen counter, wearing a sorrowful expression. Her lips were pressed tightly together, the corners of her mouth pointing downwards, the look being one she had reserved for when he’d been injured or sad as a child. The look had always been followed by a comforting hug that somehow would make everything better.
Not this time, though.
Nick’s gaze focused back on Charlie, whose eyes went wide and his prominent Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he gulped. “Oh… Um, sorry…” Charlie trailed off, his eyes purposely avoiding Nick’s.
“Um,” Nick stammered, bending down and reaching inside the cabinet under the island to grab the phone book. “You’ll need this,” he said, his voice a little strained, as he slapped the thick book down on the white counter and slid it across to Charlie. “Phone is over there,” he pointed to the cream rotary phone on the worktop.
Nick turned to head towards the stairs, his mind already racing with all the tasks that he needed to get done by the end of the day. Although he enjoyed his supply trip days to get fresh air and to socialise a little bit with old man Rory and his wife, the venture would always throw his entire routine off. Charlie’s hesitant voice suddenly stopped him in his tracks.
“Umm, where are you going?”
“Oh, uh, I need to get dressed and get to work for the day. If you need anything, I’ll be just right outside,” Nick informed him, forcing a small smile in an attempt to downplay the urgency that he felt.
“You’re just going to leave me in here?” Charlie scoffed, gesturing wildly around at his surroundings.
“What? Surely, you don’t need me to hold your hand while you make a phone call, do you?” Nick turned to face Charlie with a sly smirk forming on his face.
Charlie crossed his arms over his chest and tapped his foot on the ground in anguish. “I thought farmers were supposed to be nothing but beacons of hospitality. You’re going to leave a guest in the middle of your kitchen covered in mud?”
Nick felt his cheeks heating up and he cursed the man across from him for making him hot under the collar. Nick had been so caught up in making a mental checklist for himself: the sheep and chickens needed their grain, the horse stalls needed mucking out, the fence by the cliff side still needed mending, the shed needed repainting, the supplies needed to be unloaded from the truck, new hay needed dispersing, the wheat needed harvesting… Frankly, Nick had too much on his damn plate to care about providing this stranger with ‘country warm-welcomes’.
What was he expecting? Me to bathe him then dress him? Is he that rich? Does he pay people to dress him? Nick scoffed internally at the idea of someone needing assistance to dress, let alone bathe, as if they were some pampered aristocrat. There was no denying the fact that Charlie certainly looked the part. Well, before he fell in mud he had at least. Although the idea seemed ridiculous, Nick’s mind started to drift off at the thought of standing face to face with Charlie, their eyes locked in a silent exchange of longing and desire. With deliberate slowness, Nick’s fingers would begin to undo each button of Charlie’s suit, revealing more and more of his perfectly sculpted body beneath the fabric.
As Nick pictured each button giving way to his touch, he would hear Charlie’s breath hitching in anticipation, his chest rising and falling with every nervous heartbeat. He’d let his hand trail further down Charlie’s taut stomach, relishing the sensation of smooth skin beneath his fingers. For a moment, he indulged in the fantasy of taking control, of exploring every inch of Charlie’s body with a reverence bordering on worship. He wondered how Charlie would respond to his touch; would his muscles tense? Would he blossom into goosebumps? What would he sound like when he moaned? Would whimpers fall from his lips or would it be short bursts of breath instead?
“Hello? Earth to farm boy?” Charlie called, waving his hand in front of Nick’s face, which only deepened Nick’s blush. With a shake of his head and a clear of his throat, Nick banished the illicit thoughts from his mind.
What is this man doing to me? For fuck’s sake, I’ve only just met him. Am I seriously so lonely that anyone who steps inside my house will instantly become the subject of my touch-deprived fantasies?
Nick hadn’t felt the urge for human contact in over five years and nobody had snuggled him, touched him, even kissed him within that time either. But now, Charlie suddenly appeared, and Nick could barely focus. A sudden overwhelming feeling of dread rushed through him all the way to his core. He had been content being alone, he was content with being alone.
I am content with being alone, he reassured himself repeatedly. But he couldn’t help but argue with himself, then why do you suddenly crave human connection? Especially with some complete bell-end like Charlie?
Nick had pushed everyone away ever since the devastating diagnosis of his mother’s cancer had plunged his world into turmoil. His last relationship was with a woman named Imogen. He hated to admit it to himself, but she was his first love and his first serious relationship: his first everything. She even moved into the Nelson’s farm and shared Nick’s room with him.
But as his mother’s condition deteriorated, Nick found himself consumed by a sense of guilt and obligation, his focus shifting entirely to care for his mother and look after her wellbeing. In a moment of selflessness, he had given Imogen an opportunity to walk away, to spare herself the burden of his grief and the inevitable heartache that lay ahead.
Even though he’d given her the option, he couldn’t have ever imagined that she could be so cold and heartless and would choose to abandon him in his hour of need. And yet, he woke up one morning to all of Imogen’s belongings gone, her presence erased from his life without as much as a farewell note. She had left behind nothing, as if she had been only a figment of his imagination. She’d even had the gaul to take his favourite rugby jersey that she claimed she loved sleeping in. Sarah passed away a week later and when Nick received that devastating phone call from hospice care, his soul turned to glass, shattering into a million pieces. Physically, he was breathing and healthy, but did that mean that he was really alive?
In the years that followed, Nick buried himself in work on the farm, seeking solace in the familiar routines and rhythms of rural life. However, despite his efforts to distract himself from the pain, the memories of Imogen’s sudden departure and his mother’s passing continued to haunt him. He knew it wasn’t normal that he still saw his mother, his dead mother, but he wasn’t ready to let her go. He didn’t think he’d ever be ready to really let her go.
In his quiet moments alone, Nick would find himself lost in memories of his mother, her voice whispering words of comfort and wisdom in his ear. He longed to hold onto her presence, to cling to the illusion that she was still by his side, watching over him with her eternal love and guidance.
“Nick?” Charlie tried again to get Nick’s attention. “You’re starting to scare me. You’ve been staring at me for a good two minutes now…” the man shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot.
“Sorry!” Nick gasped out, but immediately clamped a hand over his mouth, surprised by his own overly loud tone. Charlie flinched backwards and he seemed to cower in on himself. The sight turned Nick’s stomach into knots and he grimaced.
Great, now you’ve gone and scared him. If he didn’t think you were some kind of serial killer before, he certainly does now, Nick chastised himself.
“I mean… Um, I’m going to go get you some clothes. Yeah, sorry…” With that, Nick spun around on his heel and dashed towards the stairs.
Idiot. Idiot. Idiot!
As he climbed the steps, he spotted Sarah at the top of the landing, looking down at him with pity in her eyes. He hated it, couldn’t stand it, and quickly averted his gaze to his work boots. As he marched to the master bedroom, he knew she was following him, but he chose to ignore her the entire time. He opened his chest of drawers and dug through them, tossing clothes this way and that. Charlie had a much slender build than him and he knew whatever he picked would be baggy, but he hoped to find something that would be acceptable.
“Honey,” Sarah said, her voice stern enough to elicit Nick to finally make eye contact with her. She was pointing to his closest and without responding, he walked over and opened the door. At first, he didn’t see anything, but a small gasp escaped him as his eyes landed on a neatly folded pair of denim dungarees. He hadn’t worn them in quite some time because he’d outgrown them a few years ago. Perfect.
He grabbed them and a simple white, cotton T-shirt before making his way back down the stairs. As he reached the kitchen, Charlie stood by the landline, a frustrated huff escaping him as he hung up the phone with the familiar ding of the hand set. Nick furrowed his brow in concern, noting the tension in Charlie’s posture as he approached slowly.
“Everything okay?” Nick asked, attempting to sound casual.
Charlie sighed loudly, running a frustrated hand through his curls, which caused small lumps of dried mud to fall from them. Nick watched in awe as the man’s hair defied gravity yet again and each curl fell back perfectly on the top of his head. “This bloody place! Why did I pick Scotland? Of all the god forsaken places! Ugh, my mother was right!” he groaned, pulling out one of the dining chairs and practically sinking into it. Nick tried to withhold the grimace that attempted to form on his face as more specks of mud and grass fell onto the table where Charlie’s arms lay.
“Um,” Nick said, blinking his eyes repeatedly, not sure quite how to respond. He waited a few moments in hopes that Charlie would elaborate further but with no such luck. Nick walked around the table until he was across from the other man. Charlie’s elbow was resting against the table and his head was propped up in his hand. Nick could practically picture a grey storm cloud above his head, a constant torrential downpour falling upon his features. “What happened?” Nick asked, his voice barely above a whisper. He didn’t know how to properly address Charlie at the moment, but he felt as if one wrong move would send the other man running for the hills. Or in this case, running from the hills , he thought with slight amusement.
“Just my luck, my car decided to break down on a Sunday and apparently no mechanic shops are open on Sundays,” Charlie groaned, glaring at the ground as he mindlessly fiddled with the cuff of his suit. Nick smirked a little.
“Mechanic shops?” Nick asked with humour in his voice.
“Yes, bright spark, the place where cars go to get fixed,” Charlie responded, very unamused.
“A garage. They’re called garages,” Nick corrected, making Charlie look at him, with a face that screams, ‘I do not care’.
Nick gnawed at the inside of his cheek at the realisation that it was, indeed, Sunday. He always did supply runs on Sundays. Why didn’t he remember what day it was ? Charlie continued to complain and grumble under his breath, but Nick didn’t hear him. Words popped into his mind and before he could process them, they’d spilled out.
“You’re welcome to stay here,” Nick said quickly. Charlie’s jaw clamped shut and his jaw tensed as he grinded his teeth, narrowing his eyes, observing Nick as if to gauge his sincerity. “Um… t-there are multiple spare rooms upstairs. You’re welcome to any of them, all except the first door on the left. You can call the garage again tomorrow,” Nick swallowed around the thick lump in the back of his throat. His tongue felt incredibly dry and foreign in his own mouth.
“Stay here?” Charlie asked incredulously, his sceptical eyes once again trailing around the room.
Nick sighed. He didn’t have time for this. “Just think about it. Here,” Nick huffed, plopping the clothes down on the table. “There’s a bathroom upstairs and down here too, so take your pick. I really do have things I need to do and it’s only -” Nick glanced at the clock on the wall - “shit. It’s half past nine now. I should’ve been out there two hours ago.”
Charlie raised an eyebrow. “You act like you still don’t have a whole day ahead of you. It’s not even ten in the morning,” he said in a monotone tone.
“Well when you’re the only one on the farm, you need to take advantage of every hour of daylight you have,” Nick replied, trying to keep his voice respectful. Obviously, this man has never seen a full day's work in his life.
“Wait, you’re the only person here?” Charlie asked, a fresh hint of fear in his eyes. Nick’s patience was fading quickly and his fingers twitched with agitation at his sides. “Are you sure that-”
“Charlie!” Nick groaned in exasperation. The way that Charlie flinched under his harsh tone wasn’t lost on him. However, at this moment, Nick was too pissed off to care. “Don’t you think that if I were some murderer, I would have done something to you by now? Instead, I saved you at the side of the road, brought you into my home, offered you a warm shower and clean clothes, let you use my phone, and offered you a place to stay. I genuinely don’t have time for this,” he scoffed, walking past him to grab the keys hanging on the wall near the door. “Stay, don’t stay. I really don’t care at this point.”
Charlie abruptly stood up, the chair screeching against the floor. “Why would I stay with someone like you?” he spat out, causing Nick’s legs to still. “Someone who treats their guests like… like absolute horseshit! I’m not a child so don’t talk to me like one, you’re not better than me!”
Nick spun on his heel, a scowl on his face as he moved closer to Charlie, taking advantage of his full height so that he was towering over the other man. If he wasn’t so pissed, he’d be blushing furiously right now. “If you don’t want to be talked to like a child, quit acting like a child. I don’t think I’m better than you but if you want to talk about who is treating who like shit, take a look in the mirror because it’s not fucking me!” Nick exclaimed, raising his hand and pointing to the mirror on the wall.
Charlie instinctively moved to shield his face with a wince, a startled gasp escaping him, but he swiftly redirected it to rest on Nick’s chest. His expression shifted into one of anger and he forcefully shoved Nick backwards. “I’m out of here. You’re a fucking psycho,” he snapped, swiping Norman from the window sill and sharply turning on his heel and heading towards the front door. Nick stared out of the kitchen window as he heard the door open and slam shut, his teeth grinding against one another as he pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Nicholas,” Sarah’s voice broke the silence. It wasn’t stern but it definitely wasn’t empathetic either. “You know that he’s not going to make it into town. It’s only going to get hotter-”
“I don’t care, Mum!” Nick interrupted, waving his hands in the air. “It’s not my problem! He wants to be some bell-end, then that’s on him. I did my best to offer hospitality the way you taught me but he’s just… he’s far too difficult. We come from opposite worlds, that much is very clear.”
“I just think that -” Sarah started but Nick’s snort cut her off.
“I don’t have the time, Mum. I’m better off without him,” he said, opening the door and stepping outside. As he walked to the barn, he could see Charlie walking off in the distance. The man stood out like a sore thumb, brown against the faded asphalt, and Nick tried to find solace in that.
Someone will see him. He’ll be someone else’s problem then.
“Darling, no one travels that road but you,” Sarah spoke softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. He squinted at her, a gust of wind blowing his auburn locks around wildly, while her chestnut hair stayed still, pinned neatly to either side of her head with yellow clips. “He won’t make it very far without your help.”
“He’s not some stray animal, Mum,” Nick whispered, glancing back out at the road. “In fact, I think I’d much prefer to pick up a stray dog, at least they’d appreciate what I offer.”
Sarah chuckled warmly, slapping his arm playfully. “Nicholas Luke Nelson!” she scolded half-heartedly. “You’ve isolated yourself far too long, baby. You’ve seemingly forgotten your manners.”
Nick sighed in defeat, rubbing his face before shaking his head. “Fine. But if he keeps giving me shit, I actually will kill him,” Nick replied, prompting Sarah to snort.
“You can barely manage killing one of your chickens when you have to. You won’t do anything to Charlie or his cute little curls and you know it.”
“Cute little curls?” Nick asked dryly, eyeing Sarah as he started walking down the hill. She shrugged in response, smiling coyly.
“Your words, not mine,” Sarah chuckled.
Nick whistled for Nellie, watching her hop up from her bed that rested on the front porch. “Come on, Nels. It’s time to herd a stray,” he hummed as he half attempted to jog towards his truck. He walked to the truck bed, placing his hand flat on the floor of it to check its temperature. Even though the heat was only just picking up, Nick decided to grab one of the blankets before unfolding it so that Nellie could hop into the truck bed without the possibility of burning her paws. He undid the flannel he was wearing, tossing it into the back of his truck so that he didn’t feel as overheated from the thick material, leaving him just in a light blue t-shirt.
He got into his truck and started it with ease. He rolled down his windows to let what little breeze there was in, pressed down the clutch and pulled away. It wasn’t long before the feeling beneath him shifted from bumpy dirt to smooth asphalt as he got onto the main road. He looked in the rearview mirror, a smile lighting up his face as Nellie stuck her head over the side of the truck, her pink tongue flopping in the wind as her ears flapped wildly.
I can do this, Nick reminded himself as his eyes focused back on the road. Just don’t be a dick, Nelson.
Charlie made it a lot further than Nick had expected, the man only fifty feet or so away from his broken down car. Nick saw Charlie turn his head, glancing at Nick when their eyes met, so he slowed the truck down. He popped his elbow out the window and leaned his head out keeping the truck at the same pace as Charlie’s walk.
“What do you want?” Charlie shouted petulantly.
“I wanted to apologise,” Nick replied over the rolling sound of the engine. “I was gonna offer you and Norman a lift.”
“If you think for a second that I’m going back to that godforsaken barn -” Charlie started but Nick shook his head.
“Actually, there’s a diner that’s not too far from here. I figured maybe I’d get you some food and then we could find a B&B for you,” Nick offered. Charlie stopped at this, turning his head to study Nick.
“What about your precious farm chores?” he sneered. “Besides, I’m covered head to toe in dried mud. I can’t… I can’t be seen like this and I’m certainly not going to eat, dropping dried mud everywhere.” He ran a hand up and down his front.
“How about this, then. You come back with me and take a shower. I’ll feed the animals quickly and then we go and get some food. I’m already late for the other things, I guess I can spare some more time or maybe I’ll just do them tomorrow.” He shrugged. Sure, taking Charlie out would mean a late night for him but it wasn’t like he hadn’t done those before. “Besides, even I know that it isn’t the brightest idea to work through the peak heat of the day.”
Charlie stared at him warily, his brows pinched together as he looked like he was genuinely considering it. “Alright,” he conceded. “Alright, yeah, that’s fine.”
Nick felt his shoulders relax minutely and he nodded. “Okay, good.”
For the second time that day, Nick watched as Charlie opened the passenger side door and passed Norman to Nick while he clambered up into the truck. Instead of barking, Nellie climbed through the window to the cabin and decided to deliver a big, long lick up the side of Charlie’s face. Charlie squealed loudly and wiped at his cheek aggressively, but he was smiling. Nick couldn’t resist the warmth that spread through him as he witnessed Charlie’s face light up. There was something infectious about the way his eyes crinkled at the corners and his dimples popped. It was like a ray of sunshine breaking through the storm clouds that had collected around the man earlier.
Seeing this man show a sign of happiness for the first time was doing something to Nick; he couldn't help the grin that spread across his face in response.
“I think she likes you,” Nick remarked with a small chuckle, glancing at Charlie as he expertly shifted gears to reverse the truck. The engine hummed smoothly as he backed up towards Charlie’s BMW, executing a perfect three point turn.
Charlie grinned, still wiping away the remnants of Nellie’s enthusiastic greeting from his cheek. “Really? I’ve never had a dog before,” Charlie admitted sheepishly.
“Is that why you’re such a sour puss?” Nick teased with his eyebrows raised.
Charlie rolled his eyes in response, but continued happily petting Nellie, ruffling her ears and accepting more kisses.
If Nellie approves, maybe he isn’t all that bad.
“How long have you lived out here?” Charlie asked. Nick shot him a look to see if Charlie was being sarcastic, but he only found genuine curiosity in the other man’s face.
“I grew up here, actually. With my mum,” Nick replied as the farmhouse came into view in the distance once more.
“Are you Scottish? Your accent is confusing,” Charlie said, his nose scrunching up in consideration.
“Technically, no. I was born in Kent though we moved here when I was a baby. My mum was English, so I guess mine’s a mix,” Nick shrugged nonchalantly. Charlie hummed in acknowledgement before speaking.
“I’m from London.”
Nick clicked his tongue and smirked widely.
“What?” Charlie asked.
“I already knew that,” Nick admitted as he pulled the truck’s handbrake up.
“What? How?” Charlie asked, cocking his head to the side in shock.
“You look the part,” Nick pointed to Charlie’s clothes. “Well… you did look the part. And I recognise the accent from all the tourists that come out this way.”
“Shut up. Will you please help me this time? I’d rather not eat mud again,” Charlie said, jutting out his bottom lip in a pout that Nick had to admit was adorable.
“Whoa! You? Actually asking for help? From a farm boy like me? I’m shocked and impressed,” Nick teased and didn’t wait for a response from Charlie as he climbed out, letting Nellie jump out through the driver's side before closing the door behind her. He hurried over to Charlie’s side and offered his hand out as he opened the door.
Charlie, with his bottom lip caught between his teeth, hesitantly accepted Nick’s hand. His grip was tentative as he slowly stepped down from the truck, his shoes sinking right away into the layers of mud on the ground. Charlie managed two steps before one foot slipped, sending him teetering off balance. He yelped and his arms flailed, desperately seeking stability as he slid and wobbled from side to side.
Nick’s reflexes kicked in, his arm shooting out to wrap around Charlie’s lithe waist, pulling him in close to his chest to keep him steady. With Charlie’s warm breath against his skin, Nick’s senses were overwhelmed by the close proximity, his mind swimming in a whirlpool of emotions. He found himself momentarily lost in the captivating intensity of Charlie’s gaze as their eyes met, feeling as though he could drown in the depths of those ocean-blue orbs. In that fleeting instance, he felt a surge of something unnameable stir within him, a longing so deep he couldn’t quite fathom it. He hadn’t felt it in so long, he didn’t even know he was still capable of feeling… that way. Undeniably, he felt lust stir in the pit of his abdomen from the way his cock twitched in his jeans, but it ran deeper than that. A deep rooted yearning for an actual human connection.
Get a grip, Nelson. You’re a thirty-one year old man, not some horny teenager going through puberty.
“U-Um,” Charlie stammered, attempting to straighten himself up. His movements were awkward and before he could fully separate himself from Nick’s chest, he slipped again and fell right back against him. They both chuckled and Nick had no doubt that his cheeks mirrored Charlie’s bright red ones. There was something endearing about Charlie blushing that was drawing Nick in like a moth to a flame.
“Those shoes are worthless when it comes to mud. At this point, I should just carry you back to the house,” Nick said jokingly, but Charlie seemed to panic at this. His eyes went wide and he shook his head frantically.
“Don’t even think about it, farm boy,” he scolded sharply. “Just help me to solid ground.”
Nick nodded and gently steered Charlie back towards the porch of the house. Nick only let go of the other man to hold the front door open for him. Once inside, they both went to the kitchen where the clothes Nick had picked out for Charlie remained neatly folded on the table.
“Alright, well, I’m going to grab your plant then feed the animals. You’re welcome to come out when you’re done if you want, but it’s up to you,” Nick said, his hand reaching for his trusty cowboy hat made of straw hanging on the coat rack in the corner of the room. The sun beat down mercilessly outside and with Nick’s red hair acting like a beacon for the sun’s harsh rays, he never took any chances.
“As you said, these shoes aren’t meant for mud,” Charlie replied, pointing down at his feet.
“There’s some extra work boots in the hall cupboard, help yourself.” With a final nod, Nick tipped his hat in farewell and headed out the door, the screen door creaking softly behind him. Nellie met him on the porch and then followed closely at his heels.
He trudged through the mud to the barn, the familiar sounds of the countryside enveloping him: the chirping of birds, the rustling of leaves in the gentle breeze, and the distant beating of the ocean’s waves against the bottom of the cliff.
With practised ease, Nick swung open both barn doors wide, allowing sunlight to flood the interior. He pulled down the tailgate of his truck and hoisted the heavy bags of grain over his shoulder, muscles flexing with exertion as he carried them into the barn. With careful precision, he laid them down in the small stock room.
Once the grain was safely stowed away, Nick set about his task of feeding the animals. He moved with purpose, pouring feed into troughs and ensuring each pen had an ample supply of fresh water. As he worked his way around the barn, the animals greeted him eagerly, their hungry eyes following his every move.
As per usual, the sheep were the most miffed and eyed him angrily as he approached their pen. Their bleats were filled with indignation, a clear sign they were none too pleased about his tardiness.
“Oh hush, you lot act like I haven’t fed you in months,” Nick scoffed to the herd as he filled their feed. They all started happily munching away and the sight made Nick chuckle. So easily pleased, he thought to himself. No matter how many times he’d witnessed these strange creatures eat at the speed of light, it still managed to impress him.
With his back facing the sheep, Nick leaned his body against the weathered fence, its wooden slats warm to the touch. With a sigh, he lifted his hat from his head, revealing a mop of unruly locks that were dampened with sweat. The air hung heavy and thick with humidity, wrapping around him like a suffocating blanket. It was a strange day for Scotland, hot days like this were rare and Nick never took one for granted.
As he wiped the moisture from his brow with the back of his palm, he spotted something blue appear on the porch of the house. Squinting against the glare of the sun, he leaned forward for a closer look, his heart skipping a beat as he realised it was Charlie making his way down the path towards him.
As he drew closer, Nick realised he was wearing Nick’s old dungarees. They were still a bit baggy on him, the fabric pooling slightly around his slender frame, but somehow, they seemed to suit him. The light blue of the material contrasted beautifully with Charlie’s sun-kissed olive skin, enhancing the natural vibrancy of his blue eyes. As Charlie’s gaze met Nick’s, Nick could swear he saw Charlie’s eyes actually sparkle.
“Well, well, well, don’t you look comfy,” Nick chortled, shoving his hat back down on his head.
“I have never worn… dungarees before,” Charlie admitted, his fingers tugging at the denim fabric as if trying to make sense of it. “Frankly, I don’t think they’re very flattering. It’s quite rude that it doesn't accentuate my curves, don’t you think?” he asked, a playful twinkle in his eye as he spun around to briefly put his rear on display. Nick had caught multiple glances of Charlie’s arse throughout the day and while the suit definitely hugged it just right, the dungarees still somehow made it look great, in Nick’s very humble opinion.
“O-Oh… Yeah,” Nick stuttered, suddenly unable to form a coherent sentence.
This man will be the death of me.
“So, can we go eat now?” Charlie pleaded, turning back around to face Nick properly. “I haven’t eaten a real meal in three days and I’m starving,” he groaned, swaying his arms around like an impatient child.
Nick looked at Charlie with amusement, seemingly unfazed by Charlie’s dramatics. “Sure, I need to feed the chickens first, though,” he said casually, his attention already shifting to the chicken coop.
Charlie let out an exasperated sigh. “Or we could eat one of your damn chickens,” he muttered sarcastically, rolling his eyes as he followed closely behind Nick towards the coop. Nick snickered, but paid the other man’s comment no mind.
Charlie waited by the coop as Nick ran back to the barn to grab another bag of grain. When he returned, Charlie was bent down by the coop, looking in at the hens. “Do you want to help?” Nick asked, fighting back a cheeky grin.
Charlie jumped back, as if he hadn’t expected Nick to return so soon, and he clutched at his chest. He quickly stood up again and glared at Nick. “To feed chickens? Well… it can’t be that tricky, can it?”
Nick suppressed a smirk, his mouth twitching with the effort to contain his amusement. In some ways, Charlie was right; the chickens were usually the least of his worries. Especially when compared to the unruly sheep that never failed to find ways to test his patience. But there was one hen, Henrietta, that stood out amongst the flock, a feisty bird with a penchant for causing chaos. Nick glanced past Charlie as he watched the chickens slowly gather around them, no doubt hearing the shuffling bag of grain in his hands. His eyes locked with Sarah’s, his mum leaning against the fence with a disapproving shake of her head. However, the faint smirk on her face only encouraged his idea more.
“Then, why don’t you give it a go?” Nick smiled at Charlie as he offered up the grain. “Unless… you’re too scared, rich boy,” he taunted, waving the bag in the other man’s face. Charlie hesitated, nibbling at his bottom lip, before yanking the grain from Nick’s grasp. He approached the gate to the chicken coop and paused to glance back at Nick over his shoulder. Nick standing there watching with his arms crossed and a seemingly smug smile on his face.
“I just open the gate and toss it in?” Charlie asked warily, his eyes rapidly scanning Nick’s face.
“Yep, just open it very slowly,” Nick instructed, giving an encouraging nod and hand gesture towards the gate. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see his mum covering her mouth, her gaze never leaving Charlie.
As Charlie tentatively unlatched the gate, Nick held his breath, knowing all too well what would happen once Henrietta caught wind of even the slightest chance of freedom. True to form, Henrietta seized the moment, her wings beating with an unexpected burst of energy as she darted through the gap in the gate with an agility that surprised even Nick.
A startled yelp escaped Charlie’s lips, his grip on the gate faltering as he stumbled backward from the flapping chicken, his back colliding with the wooden fence behind him. “What do I do?!” Charlie’s words came out in a rush, his voice quivering as he looked to Nick for direction.
“Chase her!” Nick shouted as he wasted no time in shutting the gate and springing into action. With his eyes locked on the loose hen, he bolted after her. Soon enough, he heard Charlie’s footsteps behind him, quickly closing in on him. Henrietta easily hopped into the pig pen, sending the inhabitants into a chorus of squeals and snorts. Without hesitation, Nick put a hand on the fence and leaped over it. For a brief moment, he felt weightless, suspended in mid-air before gravity reclaimed its hold on him. His feet made a squelching noise as he landed in a pile of slop and he continued his pursuit of the hen.
As he reached the end of the pen, Henrietta slid through the fence and Nick hopped over the other side again. He watched in disbelief as Charlie suddenly sped past him, practically leaving Nick behind essentially stuck in the mud.
What is this man? A fucking athlete?
Henrietta bolted between two bushes and Charlie dived forward, his outstretched arms reaching for the elusive hen. Just as he almost had her, Charlie slid in a patch of mud and landed squarely on his face, sending splatters of earth flying in all directions.
For a moment, Henrietta froze, startled by the cacophony of noise erupting around her, and Nick seized his opportunity. With a burst of adrenaline, he lunged forward, his fingers brushing against the hen’s feathers as he stumbled. Despite his flailing efforts to regain his balance, he found himself tumbling to the ground alongside Charlie, sliding on his stomach until the side of his head collided with Charlie’s hard knee.
As they laid there, in front of each other, panting and covered in mud, their eyes met in mutual disbelief at the absurdity of the situation. And then, without warning, laughter bubbled up in Nick’s chest and it started as a low rumble, but quickly escalated into full-blown, belly-aching guffaws. Tears streamed down Nick’s cheeks as he clutched his aching sides.
Charlie fought hard to maintain his face of indignation, the corners of his lips twitching with suppressed amusement until he could no longer contain it. With a rueful shake of his head, he succumbed to the laughter, the sound mingling with Nick’s in a symphony of mirth.
Nick couldn’t believe that Charlie still looked pretty even with smudges of mud adorning his face. “You have some mud on your face,” he managed to sputter out between bouts of laughter, his hand reaching up instinctively to wipe Charlie’s cheeks.
Charlie’s laughter bubbled up anew at the unexpected gesture, his cheeks flaming as Nick’s hand brushed away the muddy streaks. Between giggles, Charlie gasped out, “No way in hell am I going anywhere now. And I just showered too! What a moot point.”
Nick grinned through his tears, wiping the mud from his own face, his chest still heaving with laughter. “Can I just cook for you instead?”
Charlie nodded, his face suddenly breaking into a genuine smile. “Yes, it’s the least you can do after all that, farm boy,” he teased, bumping Nick’s shoulder with his own. In that moment, Nick realised he’d never seen a smile quite as pretty as Charlie’s, and he felt a pang of longing to see it more.
❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀
Nick ran a hand through his damp hair as he entered his bedroom, feeling exhaustion seep into his bones. He plopped down on the end of his bed, clad only in his pyjama bottoms. Cooking for Charlie had been unexpectedly enjoyable, but it had also eaten up precious time. They ended up talking for two hours, their conversation flowing easily despite Charlie’s occasional bouts of sass.
However, the downside was that Nick was only able to complete the bare minimum today. There were still a bunch of chores that he should have completed before the sun went down. He glanced at the clock and grimaced. It was already one in the morning and there was still so much to do. Earlier, he planned to stay up and work even during the night, but he was simply too tired.
He grabbed his diary off the bedside table and was going to begin writing his nightly entry, when Sarah suddenly appeared in his desk chair.
“I see that you survived the day,” she quipped, but her expression was fond.
Nick shrugged nonchalantly and fiddled at the binding of his diary, barely able to meet her eyes. “Well, he’s leaving tomorrow, it’s not like it really matters.”
“You don’t want him to leave, do you?” Sarah asked, leaning forward to force Nick to look at her. As his brown eyes met her green ones, he felt his cheeks flushing with heat, easily giving himself away. “I don’t blame you, darling. Under that prickly exterior, he seems to be a fine young man, quite sweet really.” She smiled the signature Sarah Nelson smile that made Nick yearn to be able to hug her again.
“I can’t force him to stay. He’s only on holiday, I’m sure he has family and a life he needs to get back to,” Nick sighed, opening his diary to his bookmarked blank page and filling out the date at the top.
“Honey, you’ve isolated yourself for five years. Don’t you think fate is trying to tell you something by plopping Charlie down on the road that only you drive on?” Sarah asked, gesturing animatedly through the air.
“There’s no such thing as fate,” Nick grumbled, desperately wishing that his mother was right. It was simply a coincidence and nothing more.
“Nicholas Nelson, I didn’t raise you to be a pessimist,” she said sternly, crossing her arms over her chest and sending him a pointed look. He didn’t respond, simply nibbling at his pen instead. After a couple of minutes, her resolve seemed to fade and her features softened. “Why don’t you do something nice for him?”
Nick glanced up at her over his diary and furrowed his eyebrows at her. “Like what?”
“That suit of his! I taught you how to remove stains from your rugby uniforms and I’ve seen you work wonders before,” Sarah beamed at him proudly.
Nick manoeuvred himself until he was sitting up all the way against the headboard and he sat his diary to the side. “Mum, it’s one in the bloody morning. I didn’t get everything finished today and I’ll have to wake up at the arse crack of dawn to-” Nick started speaking quickly, his words fumbling together, and Sarah raised a dismissive hand that made his jaw snap shut.
“Everyday, you work yourself so hard. I think you’ve earned yourself a little break,” Sarah ordered, her tone stern.
“Muumm...” Nick whined, hating how childish he sounded.
“Nicholas,” Sarah retorted and Nick knew she wasn’t going to relent.
“Fine!” Nick huffed, forcing himself to his aching feet. When he stood up, he glanced back at his desk chair and Sarah had vanished.
Nick took a deep breath and slowly left his bedroom. He crept down the hallway to the bedroom Charlie was currently sleeping in. He felt weird to go in there while Charlie was sleeping. What if he was naked?
Nick stood outside Charlie’s room, nervously shifting from foot to foot, listening for sounds that Charlie was awake, trying to think of reasons not to do this. He almost debated tucking his tail between his legs and fleeing back to his bedroom, but Sarah’s words echoed in his mind, urging him to do something nice for Charlie.
Taking another deep breath to calm his frayed nerves, Nick carefully pushed open the door and peeked his head through. The room was too dark for him to see much other than a Charlie-sized lump on the bed. He scanned the area quickly, his eyes landing on a chair by the door where Charlie’s muddy suit lay and his dirty red bottomed shoes rested underneath the chair on the floor. With a newfound determination, he tiptoed over and grabbed them, constantly glancing over to Charlie’s sleeping form with the fear of disturbing him.
Slowly, he sneaked out of the room and closed the door quietly behind him. Carrying the garments downstairs, Nick set to work. He filled a basin with warm water and detergent, gently scrubbing away the brown stains from the suit with practised efficiency. It took some time and elbow grease, but eventually, the fabric began to look as good as new. He hung the suit up in the airing cupboard for it to dry hoping it would be dry by morning, but fearing it might not. He then turned his attention to the shoes.
Under the soft glow of the kitchen light, he sat at the dining table and he wiped the shoes clean of mud and grime. Then, he carefully polished them until they gleamed in the light. It was a meticulous process, but Nick found solace in the repetitive motions, the rhythmic swish of the cloth against the smooth material easing the constant anxiety that plagued him.
Finally, after what felt like hours, Nick admired his handiwork. The suit was pristine, free of any lingering stains, and the shoes looked almost as good as new, he imagined, having never seen a new pair of red soled shoes before. He couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction wash over him, hoping that Charlie would appreciate the gesture.
As quiet as a mouse, Nick crept back upstairs and slowly opened the door to Charlie’s room again. He placed the shoes back where he had found them, leaving the suit behind in the airing cupboard, and left a note telling Charlie where it was.
With that, he returned to his bedroom and laid down, exhaustion washing over him like a tidal wave. His muscles felt heavy and his eyelids drooped with fatigue. But despite the weariness that threatened to engulf him, there was a warmth spreading through his chest too, a sense of contentment that lifted his spirits.
Closing his eyes, Nick allowed himself to bask in the mental image of Charlie’s surprise and delight upon discovering the freshly cleaned suit. He could almost hear the soft gasp of astonishment, the quiet murmurs of gratitude that might escape Charlie’s lips. Imagining Charlie slipping into the suit once more, Nick envisioned him standing before the mirror, admiring his reflection and marvelling at Nick’s handiwork. It was a fleeting moment of satisfaction that he wouldn’t be able to actually witness, but it still filled his heart with a sense of purpose.
Even if Charlie didn’t stay, Nick harboured a silent hope that he would leave an indelible imprint on the other man’s mind. Nick didn’t consider himself particularly remarkable; he was nothing but an easily forgettable farm boy after all. Yet, for some inexplicable reason, he yearned for Charlie to remember him and the farm that he was so proud of. Perhaps it was the desire to be more than a passing acquaintance, to forge an actual connection with someone.
Nick knew that in reality, Charlie would walk out of his life tomorrow and his presence in Charlie’s life would fade into obscurity, like a fleeting shadow cast by the setting sun.
Forcing his eyes open, Nick felt his eyelids twitch as he struggled against the strained eye muscles. His vision blurred with fatigue but he was determined. He had a routine that he liked to stick to and his routine had already been thrown off too much today. He sighed and reached for his diary and pen, eager to capture the jumbled emotions swirling inside before they slipped away like grains of sand through his fingers.
14/08
Today started out as usual as every Sunday morning. Wake up, get dressed, drive into town with Nellie for supplies. On the way back, I ran into someone on the road. He may as well have been from a different planet with his fancy car and his fancy suit. I offered to help and was met with nothing but pure sass. The sass didn’t go away either, it only seemed to grow stronger the more I was around him. There’s something about him that is… incredibly intriguing.
Don’t get me wrong, he’s also incredibly annoying. But… I fatasised about him, a day dream, a want.
I don’t know what’s gotten into me. I think it’s all these years of being alone that’s turned me into nothing but a sad sap of a man. I don’t know how to feel or what to do anymore. I honestly don’t even know what to write right now like I usually do.
Charlie is… like no man I’ve ever met. I don’t know why I’m fretting over him so much. He plans to call the mechanic again tomorrow, then he’ll be gone. I should be happy about that, it allows me to continue on with my life like I trained myself to return to my solitude.
Yet, a part of me wants to offer him to stay…? God, what am I writing? This is stupid. I’ll white this out later and rewrite, but for now, my eyelids are drooping.