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"GET BACK HERE!" Oliver shouted from behind Nick, a smile plastered on his gap toothed face.
The situation at hand went as follows: Nick Nelson, ex rugby star extraordinaire at Truham Grammar School for Boys now turned college freshman, has come home to Charlie Spring, his nerdy year 12 dweeb of a boyfriend, for the holiday. He knocked politely at the door, snow falling around his red hair and sprinkling onto his thick jacket.
The missing factor is that he had a snowball in hand intended for Charlie, ready to disturb his warm and cuddly form with a cold ball of ice. Only, he didn't answer the door. Oliver did.
But by the time the snowball left his hand and he realized his mistake, it was much too late to stop what was about to come.
And that's how they got here. Oliver tracking droplets of snow throughout the house as Nick raced past him, seeking safety in Charlie's room.
The other problem? Charlie wasn't in his room and was instead racing after Oliver and drying up the droplets of snow falling from his little jumper and curly hair. Nick had miraculously thrown off his shoes on his way past Oliver who had intended to find his shoes and wrestle Nick outside.
Sucks to suck that he's too small and can't catch up though.
"No way! You're cold and wet!" Adrenaline filled giggles escaped his lips, legs working overtime up the stairs and down the hall. His socks lost traction on the wood floor, doing a classic running-in-place cartoon run before bolting right into Charlie's room, door hurriedly being closed behind him.
Good thing Charlie's parents weren't home. He would have been in big trouble for that.
Small eight year old hands slapped against the door, a futile attempt to turn the doorknob and shove the door open was also made.
"I'm sorry, Oli! I thought you were Charlie, honest!"
"I don't care! You still did it!"
He chuckled at that. Oliver got him there.
"Oli! You're tracking snow through the house! Go dry your hair off and change your jumper till it dries."
Nick's heart did welcomed somersaults hearing Charlie's voice, like it did every time.
The only way they've been able to communicate the last few months was through text messages and video calls. He was forever grateful for that, but nothing compared to hearing the real thing, able to feel Charlie's chest vibrate with every word he uttered and feel every twitch of his form as he got ready to say anything else.
Sheer longing almost made him open the door right there. But another slap to the door knocked him out of it.
"Not until I get him back!"
"Oh yeah? How?" He was sure to have his hands on hips, a smile creeping onto his expression.
A beat of silence passed between them.
"Fine."
Nick could almost hear the frown on his face as he walked away. He would have to make it up to the younger boy later.
But right now he had a boyfriend to kiss.
A little tap on the door had Nick opening the door immediately, pulling Charlie into a no doubt bone crushing hug. But if he had any complaints he didn't voice them, just wrapping his arms tightly around Nick and burying his face into the meat of his shoulder.
The adrenaline from earlier began to come down, his body melting and relaxing in the hold of his Charlie Spring. He could feel the sentiment being returned, Charlie's shoulders drooping ever so slightly as they began to sway gently from side to side.
"Missed you." Charlie uttered, just barely above a whisper. The words hit like soft stones.
"Missed you too." He turned and kissed his temple.
"I didn't expect to see you so soon."
He chuckled. "I got on holiday, so it was only logical that I used this time to see my boyfriend."
"What about your mum?"
"She's seen me everyday for the last 18 years, she can handle another day without me." He buried his nose in Charlie's hair.
Charlie chortled. Nick felt lighter.
Tiny feet came walking back down the hallway. Nick looked up from the mound of curls and into the expectant eyes of a much smaller Spring.
Oliver's eyes narrowed. "Nelson."
He narrowed his back. "Spring."
Oli's eyes flicked back and forth between him and Charlie, who was now staring at his younger brother with the utmost skepticism.
"I'm willing to negotiate a truce with you."
Nick's eyebrows met his hairline. Since when did Oliver know what negotiate meant? Do other 8 year Olds know what that means? What's the negotiate to child ratio?
He schooled his expression. "A truce, hm?" He put his finger to his chin in mock thought. "What are your terms, little Spring?"
"I won't get you back, IF," he pointed upward, eyes blowing wide and eyebrows raising in emphasis, "you race me in Mario Kart... AND let me throw a snowball at you later."
Nick fought back a snicker. "You've got yourself a deal then." He held out his hand for him to shake.
Oliver looked at the hand he laid out, and carefully he slipped his hand into Nick's own. Tan fingers wrapping around purple ones.
Soulmate Marks were funny.
Soulmates were a funny thing in general in Nick's family.
His mom and his dad weren't soulmates. They had both given up on finding their other half a long time ago, settling for whatever else the world may throw at them.
Then they had found eachother. Got married. Had a son. Waited a while. Had another. Slowly drifting apart until his dad was virtually not in the picture anymore, the only thing left behind being a language and an occasionally overwhelming emptiness for what could have been versus what it became.
His mother had long stressed the importance that her example was not something she expected him to follow.
If he wanted to find his soulmate then she would support him the whole way. If he wanted to settle for someone else she would support him too. She wanted him to take her experience and learn from it, not copy or avoid completely.
As he got older he had mixed feelings about his mark. Switching between hating it and loving it, and other times not knowing what he was feeling at all other than just looking at his left hand would send a wave of anger and a little bit of nausea washing over him in waves.
He's gotten better about it since he met Charlie. But he hasn't missed the melancholy looks he casts his way when his hand seems to become the center of attention. He hasn't asked him about it yet.
Now that he thinks about it, though, he's not sure if Charlie really ever mentioned soulmates before. Whether it was to talk about his own experience or to criticize others.
Whenever the topic is brought up he participates in the least personal way possible. Usually through laughs, one word answers, a funny moment the person forgot about; never to share something of his own about it.
Nick was pretty sure they were Soulmates though. No one had ever made him feel the way he does when he's with Charlie. Whenever he's with him he feels at peace and whenever they touch it flows through him in waves. He loves him a lot.
Oliver let go of his hand and nodded toward the both of them. Once the little charade was done with, his trademark smile was back and beaming. He scurried away. Probably to find his tractor or to set up Mario Kart on the Wii.
"He's literally obsessed with you." Charlie started. "For like, a month, before Holiday break started, he kept asking when you were gonna come and visit. He made sure we didn't experience any sort of peace until you came back."
Nicks heart swelled. "He's almost as bad as you in that regard."
Charlie made an offended noise and slapped his hand to his own chest. "You wound me."
He chuckled, "Shut up." And gave him a chaste kiss on the lips. "We should make sure Oli isn't scratching any disks."
Immediately Charlie bolted out of the room, a long string of 'crap's flowing out of his mouth as his feet thumped on the stairs.
It was then that he also realized his suitcase was outside the door. Charlie must have brought it up when he went to investigate what all the noise was.
He grabbed it and pulled it into the room, shucking off his jacket and throwing it on his little drum stool. The suitcase didn't contain much. Just a few sets of clothes and his toothbrush, his laptop throw in just in case a professor decided to be an unjolly prick and assign something during break.
Some of these teachers were just so miserable.
Unzipping it, he found exactly what he was looking for. Sweatpants.
He smiled at the piece of clothing and shut the door, quickly changing from one kind of pant to the other.
Why wasn't it called a pant? Is it plural because of the two leg parts? If the other leg part wasn't there, could it be considered pants still? What would it be if neither of them was there?
Belt. It'd be a belt.
Wouldn't it? Do belts have to be leather?
No, that can't be right. He's come across plenty of belts that weren't leather.
He was going to get a headache over this.
He folded the pants and put them on one side of the suitcase before closing it up, ready for a few rounds of Mario Kart with his two favorite Spring's.
°•○☆○•°
"That's cheating!" Nick yelled at the screen, watching as Oliver took a hidden shortcut through the map and popping out at first place.
"You're just bad!" Charlie said from next to Nick, his own controller throwing a blue shell he had been saving.
It hit Oliver, but caught Nick in the shockwave, allowing for Charlie to pass them and win the race.
Both Nick and Oliver were open mouthed and stunned. Nick slowly turned to see his boyfriends smug face, completely unapologetic and very proud of himself.
"Dweeb." Was all Nick had to say.
The smug expression was gone, now replaced with a shocked one. "Rude." He takes a throw pillow and shoves it at him with a force akin to a caterpillar.
"Another round?" Oliver asked.
"No, time for bed." Jane, mother Spring, interrupted. "You've got an appointment tomorrow, Oliver."
A very loud groan ensued, Jane very unimpressed at his show of distaste. Though he could see her relax when Oliver didn't argue.
"Night Nick, night Charlie." He called behind him. Jane following him up the stairs.
She stopped halfway up, turning towards the both of them. "You two might want to get to bed too. It's late." She gave a nod before disappearing.
Nick looked over at Charlie. "Wanna go lay in your bed?"
He gave this a moment of thought. "Sure."
The familiar rhythm of getting ready for bed began to play, Charlie brushing his teeth for two minutes and flossing for one. A night shirt and baggy sweatpants being exchanged for his day clothes. Nick brushed his teeth for a minute and double flossed his teeth, using mouthwash before hoping in bed beside Charlie.
It didn't take long before they found themselves in eachothers embrace.
Charlie began to play with Nick's hand, slim fingers lightly brushing over his purple ones. They were soft, apprehensive, a little bit shaky. They traced the moon over the center of his hand, then down to the droplets that ran down Nick's wrist. The pads of his fingers like ghosts over his warm itching skin.
Nick was a little stunned, but didn't say anything. If he said anything he was sure to spook Charlie, who would quickly close off again.
He was curious. They both were, for different reasons. Nick wanted to know what the sudden interest was. Why it was that now is when he decided to acknowledge the mark at all.
He's actually never seen Charlie's Mark.
"I've been talking with Geoff." Charlie started, a long pause passing between them, Nicks eyes shifting to look at him. "I never really... thought about Soulmates before, or who mine was."
He stopped talking. So Nick asked a question, softly.
"What did he say?"
His hands stuttered, but continued. "He thinks it's because I somehow attached them with my body image."
Nick's brain worked in overtime to store this information. "How'd you do that?"
His fingers stopped completely. Nick was barely able to see Charlie's face, but he knew that the look Charlie was giving was one that looked an awful lot like determination. He was readying himself, preparing. For what?
Charlies voice was small, and so very vulnerable. "Can I... show you?"
"If you're sure, then of course."
It took a moment before Charlie got up and set on his course of action. His (or rather, Nicks) jumper came off first, hesitantly dropping the fabric to the bed. With a deep breath, he turned around and lifted his shirt.
It was by far the most beautiful thing Nick has ever seen.
Charlie's Mark was a sun, rays of it spiking out in sharp points from the sun's missing center. It was dark, just like Nick's, with additional lines between the rays exuding an air of regality to the whole piece. He was skinny, a rib or two poking out from beneath his skin. There was a divet along the middle of his back, though he could see vertebrae towards the top.
He wanted to reach out and touch him. Run his fingers along the divet in the middle and feel the warmth of his skin. Feel his bones shift as he breathed and the vibrations as he talked.
The sun's missing center was the shape of a hand. A hand, he realized, that looked a lot like Nick's.
His breath hitched.
"My mum," Charlie started, his breath sounding a little shaky. He could see it, too. The shirt was still hooked along his arms. "My mum took a picture of it for me when I was younger. I didn't really know what it meant or why it was there specifically. And after a while, I kinda began to hate it. I think it was because I began to tie it to my... anorexia. And body. It wasn't until you came along and we became friends and then boyfriends that I began to think... maybe it wasn't... too bad. But..."
Nick tried to think about this from Charlie's perspective, and began to understand a little as to why they could be tied together.
Maybe he interpreted the middle as not being whole, and never being anything else. Broken, not finished, incomplete. A piece always missing. Not enough.
But that's not how Nick sees it at all.
Nick sat up and tentatively reached his hand out. The pads of his fingers barely brushed Charlie's skin, watching how comfortable he was with every move. He glided his fingers upward, filling in the sun's center with his own hand, and marveled at the light they made upon connection.
Charlie gasped as the light filled his room, a warm glow almost like golden hour filling all the corners.
The marks began to move and change color. The sun pulsed outward and the rays wiggled ever so slightly, the dark purple changing to a vibrant yellow and orange. Nick's droplets lowered themselves before fading and moving back to their original spot, moon swaying on its invisible pedestal.
Trust.
Maybe that's what it meant.
"Beautiful." Nick uttered softly, yet loud enough for Charlie's ears to catch. His other hand came up and felt along one of the sharp rays. It played with his finger, twirling around the pad and nail before dropping down to its owners skin and continuing its show. "Absolutely stunning."
Charlie's ears became a little red. Nick said nothing.
"I wish you could see it."
"I'll take your word for it."
Yeah. It had to be trust.
Slowly, he took his hand away, watching as the marks began to slowly receed back to their original position. They changed back to their original color, all movement seizing the moment Nick's hand shifted outside the sun's center. The glow was gone, plunging the room back into its original darkness. Charlie turned on the neon sign.
The shirt that was hooked around his arms came back on in an instant. He reached his limit.
"I... I'm so proud of you, yknow?"
Charlie looked over in surprise, slowly perching himself back on his bed right next to Nick. He was searching for something, and seemed to find as a small genuine smile graced his lips.
"Yeah. I know."
A surety fell over them.
Yeah. They were fine.