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unfinishedslurs · 2 months ago

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every robin gets a freebie

reverse robins in the aftermath of the death of filipe garzonas

A CD was in the mail within the next week, blank but for a note that slipped out when the envelope was opened. You should really trust in your birds more often, B. Learn from your mistakes for once.

Jason felt bile in his throat. It was body cam footage, blurry and half obscured, of Robin and Garzonas on the roof. Footage that still clearly showed Garzonas taking a too-far step back, Robin lunging to reach him, and then…

But that’s not what happened, Jason doesn’t say. His tongue feels swollen and thick in his mouth.

Batman takes off the cowl solemnly. “Jaylad,” he says. “Jason. I’m so sorry for doubting you. I never should have…”

He can’t be here anymore. He can’t be in this cave, can’t stand Bruce looking at him like that, can’t stand to even be in the vicinity of the Robin uniform he no longer deserves.

He bolts for the exit.

“Jason!” he hears Bruce call, but he doesn’t stop. He can’t. Not even when he nearly runs into Alfred, not when Damian tries to grasp his arm, not when Duke asks him what’s wrong or when Tim yelps in surprise and drops his cane jumping out of the way. He just runs, out the manor door and into the night.

For a split second the figure on the roof is overlaid with Gloria. Beautiful, resigned Gloria, who was so scared of what Felipe would do to her that she would do anything to stop it.

Then he blinks, and he’s on the rooftop with the Spoiler.

“Relax,” Spoiler says, “I’m not gonna jump. I'm only three steps into my five-step plan for world dominance. Can’t leave that unfinished. Imagine the paperwork.”

“I dunno.” Jason’s hands are shaking. “You seem like the kinda freak who would enjoy that.”

Spoiler lowers her mask, and Stephanie Brown smiles at him.

“How did you do it?”

“Do what?”

“You know.” His voice wavers. “You know. You know what I did. How did you…why did you…what was the reason?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes!”

“Call it tradition then, I guess.” Steph sounds almost amused. “Robin’s flock together.”

“But you don’t like me.”

“Who told you that?”

No one, but she doesn’t exactly go out of her way to talk to Jason. He just kind of assumed.

Tim’s awkward around him. Sometimes they’re fine, like when he wandered into the library where Jason was and asked if he wanted to get ice cream together. Other times he wouldn’t see him for three weeks. Jason tries not to think about the nights Tim has had dreams that left him cackling loud enough to wake Jason up the couple times he’s stayed the night at the Nest, or the things he heard Tim shout about little birds and broken nests when he was fear gassed.

It kind of sucks, being your brother's biggest trigger.

(Those three weeks may be a case of mutual avoidance, but Jason will never admit it.)

When he doesn’t say anything, Steph sighs. “How much do you know about when I was Robin?”

“Uh,” he says, caught off guard, “not much, I guess?” He knows that it was because something was going on with Tim. That’s about it, really. He asked once, when he was still new to Robin and the Manor. He didn’t ask again after he saw the look on Tim’s face.

“Bruce didn’t really want me. Damian didn’t think I was worthy of the mantle, and took every chance he could to remind me. Tim was pissed at me for it. None of them wanted me there, and I tried so hard to prove them wrong. To be the Robin I knew I could be.”

That…can’t be right. The few times he had asked about Stephanie Brown, Tim had nothing but good words to say. Bruce and Damian spent so much time wallowing in their regrets it was insane. For her to say nobody wanted her there, when her absence was a shadow that followed them constantly around Wayne Manor, was baffling.

Steph looks down at the helmet in her hands. “All I wanted was their approval, and it made me stupid. I overestimated myself. That’s how you get killed in this game, kid. Don’t get too cocky for your britches, and all that.”

Jason is shaking again by the time they get to the Nest. He hesitates at the window, sending a pleading look to Spoiler that she completely ignores ushering him in.

Tim spins around in his tricked out gaming chair, frown pulling oddly against the wide scars on his cheeks. He flicks his comm off. “Steph?” Then his eyes found Jason. “Jason! Thank God, we were starting to get worried about you. Duke told everyone to give you space, but…”

His mouth is too dry to say anything in response, so he just shrugs. Tim tilts his head, examining him, before looking at Spoiler questioningly.

She takes off her mask again, lowering her hood and shaking out her hair. “We need some help,” she explains, and nudges Jason forward.

He stays stubbornly in his place, head tilted towards the floor. Steph sighs. “If you don’t tell him,” she says, “I will.”

He whips his head around. “You promised!”

“My name is literally The Spoiler.” She bares her teeth at him. “I get that you’re nervous, kid, but I do not have time for this.”

“For what?” Tim says. God, Tim’s going to be like a dog with a bone with this. He’s never met a mystery he didn’t want to solve. “Just tell me what’s going on.”

“I killed Filipe!” He blurts out and freezes, moving immediately to hide behind Spoiler. She doesn’t let him, grabbing his shoulder and holding him firmly to the spot.

Tim gapes at him. “You…” he trails off, slowly turning to Steph, who holds his gaze steadily. “The footage?”

“I have connections.”

“Of course you do.” He rubs a hand over his face. “How are we playing this?

What?

“We keep going along with what’s been presented to him,” Spoiler responds without hesitation. “B’s paranoid, but he’s also the king of denial. There’s no doctoring on the tape itself, he won’t look any deeper.”

“And Damian?”

“Like he gives a shit.”

“True,” he admits. “Duke wouldn’t care enough to check either way, so that just leaves Cass.”

Steph swears. “Fuck, Cass. Do you think she’ll say something?”

“Yes. Ugh, yes she will. Fuck.”

“Think you can talk some sense into her?”

“Maybe.” He squints at Jason. “I’ll probably play up the ‘ridden by guilt’ and ‘will never happen again’ angle. He definitely reads it.”

“What the hell are you two talking about?” Jason finally says, lungs fighting for air. “I—I killed someone!”

“Not according to Bruce, you didn’t.” Tim tells him.

“You want me to lie?”

“Yes.”

He looks at Steph imploringly, begging her to explain, but she doesn’t even look at him. “Chill out, kid,” she says, “We all get a freebie.”

“Damian got more than a freebie,” Tim points out.

“He’d tell you it was his right as the blood son.”

“Stop joking!” He shouts, chest heaving for air. “Just—stop it! Why aren’t you telling Bruce? Why are you making plans to lie to him? What’s wrong with you?”

Tim exchanges a heavy look at Steph, before reaching his hand out to Jason. Jason takes it, trembling.

“Plenty of vigilantes have to make hard choices when it comes to stopping people the law can’t touch,” he tells Jason gently. “I work with people who all choose different things. When it comes to people like Garzonas, who will keep doing it over and over with no remorse…it’s not a method I recommend, but sometimes there’s only one way to stop them. If Robin made that choice, I wouldn’t blame him.”

He can’t stop the tears from welling in his eyes, because this is Tim Drake saying it. Damian was the first Robin, yeah, and Steph left her undeniable mark with her cheer and wit, but Tim wore the mantle twice. He made it into something new, something a bit brighter in the dark nights. Then, after Steph, he made it into a memory. Bright yellow for her hair. Red for Superboy. Even after they both came back Jason wore their colors, because Robin was persistence, and spirit, and clever words followed by hard punches, and bravery and a million other things, but it was also hope and love and remembrance for the lost.

He wouldn’t forget that. “Why are you so okay with this?”

“You know I’ve had to make that choice too.”

Jason almost laughs, but refrains. He’s heard the stories. “Never sounded like much of a choice.”

“It was.” His eyes snap to Tim’s at the sudden edge to his voice, and Tim meets his eyes carefully. “I was fully aware of what I was doing. It’s not something I’ll ever do again, but it was my choice, and I won’t have that taken from me.”

“I don’t think I can be Robin anymore.”

“Well, we all have to give it up sometimes.”

“Are we really doing this?” Tim asks, after he thinks Jason has fallen asleep.

Jokes on him, Jason doesn’t think he’s gonna sleep ever again.

“Are you seriously getting cold feet now? I thought you loved lying to Bruce.”

“I don’t love lying to Bruce, it’s just—“

“‘—necessary sometimes,’” she finishes. “Whatever. Like you don’t love the thrill of it.”

Tim doesn’t bother denying it. “This isn’t just lying to B, Steph. This is—are we really going to cover up a murder?”

The room drops ten degrees.

“If you’re not going to back me on this, we can go somewhere else. Don’t want you getting your hands dirty or anything,” she sneers.

“You know I’ve always got your back,” Tim says. Jason thinks back to what Spoiler told him earlier about her time as Robin, and wonders if that might not be as irrefutable a truth as he’d always thought it was. “I’m worried about Jason.”

“You wouldn’t need to be if you would just help him out—“

“You saw him. The kid looks like a ghost. He looks like I did. Don’t—no, Steph, I’m serious. I’m worried about him. At least I didn’t have to hide that I killed the Joker. You think keeping this bottled up will be good for him? It’s going to kill him.”

“The alternative is telling Batman that his precious Robin killed someone. You remember how that went last time?”

There’s a long pause, and then he hears Tim hiss an exhalation behind clenched teeth. “Don’t bring that into this. Jason’s not me.”

“That’s the fucking problem. You were his golden boy—“

“Seriously? You think I was the golden boy?”

“I’m hardly his favorite,” Tim scoffs. “Jason is.”

There’s a shocked silence. Then Stephanie scoffs. “You can’t seriously be jealous.“

“I’m trying to tell you it’ll be different from me. Have you seen him with Jason?” He waits, but Steph doesn’t answer. “He laughs. He laughs, he smiles, he’s fucking…happy. Jason makes him happy. I never did that. None of us ever—“

“Jesus, Tim,” Steph says roughly. “You made him plenty happy. Damian, Cass, Duke, you all make him laugh—“

“Not like Jason does.”

“You willing to risk the kid on that?”

A beat, and Tim sighs. “No. But it’s different now. Jason has us. All of us. It wouldn’t be like last time.”

“Jason’s not me.” He pauses, almost like he’s debating what he’ll say next, before he says, “He’s not you, either.”

Steph stays silent for so long Jason wonders if she climbed out the window and left.

Finally, she exhales. “He’s not you, and he’s not me,” she agrees, “but Bruce is always going to be Bruce.”

They sit in silence for a long moment. Finally Steph speaks up. “Are you really jealous of him?”

“No, Steph. Jesus.”

“You’re such a liar.” It’s affectionate this time, though, clearly poking fun.

Tim sighs, heavier than the teasing warrants. “It’s not him. It’s not him, and it’s not you, I just…I was never able to give up Robin on my own terms. I never…I never got to feel like I was putting it down. It never stopped feeling like—“

Stephanie doesn’t say anything. Eventually, one of the chairs slides back, and Jason hears a cane clacking on the ground. A cabinet opens. “Did you want coffee?”

“What happened to those awful sodas you were addicted to?”

“I assumed you wouldn’t want one,” Tim responds, voice dry. There’s no indication of their discussion in either of their tones. “Considering the first thing you ever did in this apartment was go through all my stuff and make fun of my taste.”

“Fuck it. I’m feeling abominable tonight, I should have something to fit the mood.”

“Shut up.” The fridge opens and shuts, and there’s a quiet thunk like a hand catching something out of midair. Then two drinks crack open.

“God, I forgot how awful these were.”

(some undetermined amount of time later)

Bruce: Dick you can’t kill Tony Zucco. Batman and Robin do not kill.

Dick: Steph said Robin gets a freebie >:(

Bruce:

Bruce: STEPHANIE-

#OKAY SO I HAD A TON OF THOUGHTS ON THE LINEUP OF THESE CHARACTERS AND THIS UNIVERSE AND I AM GOING TO PUT THEM HERE #duke joined batman first at 16 as signal- he's more of a barbara figure than anything else really bc he operates seperately from batman #but still works with him. (instead of we are robin it is we are batman. not as catchy 😔)#but he doesn't take the place of oracle and when bruce goes missing later he's the one who becomes batman. rip duke sorry man 🙏#damian as nightwing obvs #tim as the second robin then the fourth when steph dies to black mask while he's grounded #stephanie brown as the red hood #at least a stand in for him- she goes back to her identity as spoiler #while tim is operating as robin again. after her death he gets kidnapped by the joker becomes jj and shoots him #he's left disabled by the electrocution and torture and can't go out into the field so he becomes oracle #cass is batgirl rn and will still become black bat #and bruce is. u know. bruce #it was always my plan for this fic for jason to be overwhelmed with the guilt and come clean to bruce but because he has a much wider #support system and bruce has now had multiple children who have killed and so it doesn't go WELL but it doesn't go as badly as it would #in canon. bruce tells him he'll always love him but batman and robin cannot kill and jason agrees and thus moves on from robin #i make this sound calm. it would not be calm. but in my mind he's right about this batman and robin SHOULDN'T kill #bruce is also incredibly pissed at Tim and Steph for trying to get Jason to lie about killing a man #Noooot their best look even if their hearts were in the right place #i <3 mess + drama and bitterness #batfam fanfic #jason todd #stephanie brown #tim drake #reverse robins #also i'm not trying to cheapen dick's reasoning for naming himself robin. in my mind the og dick's love for his parents is so strong #it transcends time and space and makes it so that robin is ALWAYS a symbol of love and hope #and so i want to keep that spirit even when he isn't the first robin. later when he joins he will make the title his own #with his own extremely personal meaning behind it #in universe tho damian went out on the first day of spring to symbolize new beginnings #and the papers started calling him robin for the first bird of spring

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bairdthereader · 11 months ago

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Intentional Touch, Respected Space: A By-Episode Study, Part 4.2

This is the space where their love grows in safety.

S1E4: Secret (Section 2 of 2)

[Analysis of the first part of the episode is here. Previous posts in series: S1E1; S1E2; S1E3]

Nick and Charlie have returned to their safe space together, and they understand, to some extent, the newest facet of what they are to each other. On the one hand, the relief of having their safe space reestablished is incredible; on the other hand, the outside world and all its challenges await on the other side of Charlie’s bedroom door. As he prepares to leave, Nick starts to ask a question that makes him visibly uncomfortable, so much so that he can’t even finish voicing it.

Charlie, his tentative, recently repaired smile faltering, knows exactly what Nick is trying to ask. He’s been here before. He responds with an (unfortunately) oft-practiced “yeah, it’s fine,” trying to reassure Nick even as memories of Ben’s secrecy must be plaguing him, and his own desires are shunted to the side.

The difference here is that Nick clearly knows that what he’s asking is hard for Charlie. His face as Charlie turns to get the umbrella is full of remorse and distaste for the agreement he just exacted from Charlie. When Charlie hands him the umbrella—with just the slightest bit of attitude that recalls the “idiot” conversation from earlier, but nothing like his usual plucky sarcasm—Nick manages to find a way to laugh, though it’s shaky. The relief in that laugh and the gratefulness on his face isn’t just for the umbrella; it’s for Charlie’s understanding of what Nick needs at that moment, for the sacrifice he understands (incompletely, at this point) Charlie is making.

Neither of them is feeling sure-footed yet; both are attempting to figure out what kind of boundaries their altered shared space has and how it impacts their interactions going forward. They’re both trying to understand where touch comes into this scenario, in a semi-public space after Nick has just asked to keep their affection a secret. They both want a more tangible goodbye, a meaningful touch. It’s in Charlie’s toned-down smile and longing “bye,” and it’s in Nick’s aborted wave and slight downward look of regret. But then there’s Nick’s lopsided smile and his little huff of gladness and it’s clear he is also happy that he and Charlie found their way back to each other.

After a moment standing at the door looking dreamily after Nick, Charlie decides that, no, that goodbye was not sufficient after all. That they deserve something more authentic and reassuring to both of them. He rushes out into the rain—sans umbrella! These boys!—and calls after Nick.

Stopping under the incredibly insufficient umbrella, Nick and Charlie exchange hi’s (Charlie’s with a bracing gulp afterward) approximately 10 seconds after their goodbyes. After an initial moment of being happy to see Charlie (again, it’s been 10 seconds and they still want to greet each other), Nick asks if he forgot anything. He knows he didn’t, but Charlie’s brief silence has him worried, despite the fact that Charlie ran through the rain to get to him with a smile on his face. While Charlie glances around, carefully checking that their privacy and therefore Nick’s need for covertness are at least somewhat ensured, Nick gathers himself with a little, slightly panicked swallow. Is Charlie having second thoughts now that Nick has asked him to hide their relationship? Is he about to pull away, step out of their shared space?

But no. When Charlie turns back around, his intent is clear on his face, and Nick looks right down at Charlie’s lips—a silent, respectful request from Charlie and enthusiastic agreement from Nick, all in a second—and Charlie’s able to say with confidence that, yes, in fact, Nick did forget something.

Charlie knows what they both want, so he closes the space between them, holding Nick’s neck and face with one gentle, intentional, calming, claiming hand, watching as Nick’s eyes go once again to his lips in an unspoken language of both entreaty and agreement, and he leans in for a real goodbye kiss, eliminating the previously unsure space between them.

When they pull back, it’s like two magnets pulling apart—it takes force to separate them. Now that they’ve established that this kind of touch belongs in their relationship, parting is harder. To say Nick is stunned is an understatement, and this happy, confident Charlie knows it. He nods decisively—this is the goodbye they deserved—and says "okay" in a way that confirms for both of them that they're on stable ground together again.

And now Nick knows what it’s like to kiss Charlie when the terrain between them is mapped, when their safe space is secured, when he’s sure of Charlie’s affection. There’s joy and giddy euphoria and some disbelief on his face, an overwhelming recognition of the potential scope of this relationship and the completely staggering enormity of the emotions he’s feeling, as he turns back toward home and looks briefly up at the sky. He and Charlie are together.

Arriving at school the next day is a happy affair. Nick’s cheerfulness is so marked that Imogen comments that "something’s different." She attributes it to a hairstyle change, partially as an excuse to touch Nick (without permission), but what she’s really picking up on is that he seems happier and more contented than usual. Nick worries that Imogen knows he’s been kissing a boy. When it’s clear that Imogen suspects nothing, Nick’s carefree attitude returns and he endures the rest of her teasing good-naturedly, smiling to himself when she leaves. After all, he gets to see Charlie next.

Charlie, meanwhile, walks into school so fast he’s about to break into a jog, smiling exuberantly until he reaches the door to their form room. He pauses, taking a moment to gather and calm himself, to dim the smile just a bit, reminding himself that he and Nick are a secret to everyone but themselves.

He can’t tame that smile completely, though, once Nick is in view. Nick is waiting with poorly concealed impatience, looking at the door, sitting with his arms crossed to contain his exploding heart, characteristic lopsided smile in place. A smile that only gets bigger as Charlie gets closer. There’s a moment as Charlie is setting his things down, when Charlie is still trying to contain his own smile, and Nick’s smile falters just a bit in response as he watches Charlie intently, silently, waiting to make sure that things are still where they left them under the umbrella.

But when Charlie sits and looks at Nick, and his enthusiastic “hi” is out in the universe, Nick is comforted and reassured by the familiarity of their affectionate greeting. His “hi” is quiet, but filled with relief and satisfaction and simple gladness that Charlie is sitting next to him again; there’s even a deep breath followed by a small sigh of contented settledness. Charlie is nearly giddy with happiness, possibly recalling the way he felt the first time he sat down next to Nick months ago. Back then, the space between them was unknown and blank. Now that space is a sanctuary that, in public, conceals and protects their new private closeness. The familiar, comforting routines of friendship blend with the sparkling newness of their deeper relationship, setting that space between them aglow.

We next see a moderately concerned and suspicious Mr. Ajayi informing Charlie that there’s a “boy” waiting for him in the art room, giving Charlie a chance to let him know if this is a situation Charlie is not on board with (Mr. Ajayi, you saintly soul). But Charlie happily, even perhaps a little proudly (he is Charlie, after all, so this is muted) tells Mr. Ajayi that he’s meeting a rugby boy (code for straight boy crush). So Mr. Ajayi leaves Charlie and Nick with his tacit approval, and Charlie strides confidently into the art room, where Nick is sitting with the same barely contained eagerness he displayed in form. Now, however, they’re alone, and Nick can be true and honest; he can say “I missed you” with complete sincerity and unabashed enthusiasm.

Charlie, typically, responds with a bit of sarcasm, unable to fully accept the implication of Nick’s statement—that he likes Charlie enough to want to be with him, pretty much all the time, and that those four hours felt interminable. Nick has seen Charlie deflect positive attention enough times not to take this too personally (though we have to think he wishes that Charlie was able to verbally return or validate his feelings at least a little bit). Not only does Nick not take offense to this teasing, he then checks in with Charlie about his friends and whether spending time with Nick would upset them; he doesn’t want this hiding to cost Charlie more than it already is. Nick's also subtly confirming that Charlie would in fact rather be having lunch with Nick than with his friends. Charlie makes a bit light of this too, but he’s still reassuring Nick in his own way that this was a decision Charlie made willingly. Then, to make it all quite clear, Charlie reaches for Nick’s hand under the table, instigating the first intentional touch since their parting under the umbrella. It’s hidden from view—Charlie’s respecting Nick’s request, and honoring their understanding safe space, while still making grounding and affectionate contact. Nick returns the affection by swiping his thumb over Charlie’s fingers, confirmation that the touch is wanted and the meaning behind it understood.

With this reminder of the safe emotional space they have between them, Nick confesses (again) that he’s glad to be away from his usual friend group. That they’re nothing like Charlie. Yet again, Nick is offering Charlie proof that he admires and values the things in Charlie that make him different, proof that he’s choosing Charlie. (Note that there’s no concern over Nick’s friends missing him; it’s not even expected by Nick himself.) Charlie clearly doesn’t even know how to respond to this, indeed can barely believe it or internalize it, but it’s good for him to hear nonetheless.

They continue to hold hands throughout their conversation, keeping that line of emotional connection firmly in place, bridging the physical space that the public nature of the school day forced on them. It has to be noted that this moment is different from Charlie’s meetings with Ben in almost every way that matters. There’s no skulking, no leaning against walls in dark corners, little, if any, real secrecy (open doors, Mr. Ajayi knows, anyone could theoretically come to the art block at any time), just a semblance of privacy. The room is bright and light, positive and filled with color. Charlie clearly chose the location and arranged the meeting, giving him more agency than he ever had with Ben. This is a safe and welcoming place for Charlie. Charlie’s comfort here is obvious, and his affection and respect for Mr. Ajayi make it clear to Nick that this is a safe space for him, too (despite Mr. Ajayi’s initial ‘evils’). With the comforting physical touch of the handhold and the knowledge of safety in both the actual space of the art room but also the safe space he’s built with Nick, Charlie speaks aloud about the bullying he experienced, which then leads, with a noted drop in mood, to talk of Ben and his "making" Charlie keep them a secret.

Charlie immediately realizes from the crestfallen look on Nick’s face, the slight additional slump to his shoulders, the breaking of eye contact, that Nick is reading more into Charlie’s comment than Charlie meant by it. Nick’s guilt over asking for secrecy is plain on his face, and the idea that he might be causing Charlie even a fraction of the pain Ben caused him is horrifying to Nick. It makes him feel like he’s tainting that trusted space between them, and he withdraws inward briefly. Charlie reaches out with his other hand and grasps Nick’s—which seems to have loosened a bit—in both of his, drawing Nick closer to himself, intentionally pulling Nick back into that safe space, making sure Nick is listening to him. Charlie tries to reassure Nick, both with this touch and with his words. As Nick’s fingers tighten slightly around Charlie’s hand in acknowledgment, Charlie states emphatically that their situation is different, that Nick is nothing like Ben.

In most ways this is true, and Nick tries to rally, but clearly, neither of them has managed to convince the other, or themselves, that the nature of their relationship is, in fact, completely different. Nick's responding "yeah" is stilted and unconvincing, but still he leans forward and, presumably, returns Charlie’s double handhold. Even if his own guilt is gnawing at him, and he still suspects he's harming Charlie in some way, he’s trying to stay connected and keep that space between them intact. Charlie’s subdued smile tells us he knows Nick doesn’t completely believe his own “yeah,” and that Charlie knows there’s little else he can say to improve the situation in the moment. He’s made sure that Nick knows Charlie still wants him there with him, and that they can take the time and space they need to figure out their new dynamic—how to be in the world—together.

---

The next space they have to navigate together is rugby, which has always held its challenges but now introduces an uncomfortable element of conflicting loyalties for Nick and added guilt for Charlie. Charlie’s been moved from reserve to active player for an upcoming match and struggles to work up the nerve to tackle other players in practice. This earns the ire and frustration of his teammates, who feel Charlie is letting them down. Nick has to walk a fine line between concern for Charlie, guilt at the knowledge that Charlie is going through this at least in part because Nick asked him to join the team in the first place, and some real sympathy with his teammates for their frustrations. At the end of practice, Nick walks back to the changing rooms with some of the lads, leaving Charlie lagging behind, and the space between them expands, becoming thin and brittle under the pressures of this environment. Charlie, likely feeling guilt about his performance and worried that Nick is more upset with him than he is in reality—again, Ben’s conditioning of Charlie to make him feel not only pathetic but complicit in his own humiliation asserts itself—internalizes the team’s (and Nick’s) frustrations and tries to work them out by practicing more. . . alone.

As Charlie and Nick jog around the track before the match, they’re ahead of the pack slightly and by themselves—apart, but not alone, as they often are—and there’s a socially acceptable bit of space between them as they talk. All of Charlie’s friends are supporting him, and while Charlie can’t seem to understand why his friends would choose to spend their time in this way—"I told them they didn’t have to, but Elle said they wanted to be supportive”—Nick is both pleased for Charlie and perhaps wondering if any of his mates would support him in the same way. But Charlie doesn’t recognize this, and instead interprets Nick’s slightly brusque response as concern about Charlie’s friends seeing them together and learning the secret truth. Charlie rushes to reassure Nick that he won’t tell his friends about their relationship, and Nick, who had not been thinking along those lines at all, responds with a brief head shake and gruff, offhand “yeah, good, thanks.” Nick then tries to check in with Charlie, to see how this is affecting him, asking “you sure it’s okay?” To which Charlie responds, almost automatically, “Yeah. Of course.” Nick frowns, once again not fully believing Charlie or at least continuing to feel badly about the situation. But before this (very needed) conversation can continue, Harry forcefully interrupts, as he is wont to do.

When Charlie sees his friends arrive, he gets out from under Harry’s grip and gives Nick a little (again, socially acceptable, rugby-laddish) back-of-the-hand tap to his upper arm to get his attention and let Nick know that Charlie is parting ways with the group. Nick stands for a while, indecisive, as the rugby lads peel off in one direction, and Charlie to his friends in the other, leaving Nick briefly (but sadly, not unusually) alone. Nick watches from behind a literal physical barrier, cut off from Charlie, as Charlie affectionately greets his friends, as Darcy blatantly asks Charlie about his relationship with Nick, and as Charlie struggles to hide the nature of that relationship from his friends with blatant and painfully delivered lies.

Charlie looks over at Nick and sees him frowning, then immediately checks in with Darcy to see if there are rumors circulating, the need to protect Nick and keep the secret always at the forefront of his mind. Charlie’s shoulders are pulled up, his hands tug at his shirt sleeves, and he generally gives off an air of intense discomfort as he has to deceive his friends with Nick nearby, looking morose and, from Charlie’s point of view, upset about how the conversation is proceeding. Nick is so focused on this interaction, on his position as an outsider looking in, on Charlie’s obvious unhappiness, that when his own friends walk by and greet him, he spares them only a brief wave and barely a smile, before turning his attention back to Charlie again. The whole situation is clearly chafing hard, and Nick is beginning to recognize that not only does it make Charlie unhappy and put strain on Charlie’s deeply important friendships, it makes Nick discontented as well. This is a moment when the space they have between them is involuntary, when it is required by secrecy and circumstance, and it no longer feels good or right; its shape is distorted and unfamiliar.

Once again, Nick and Charlie are standing together and apart from their teammates as they watch the opposing team file out onto the pitch. Charlie takes a completely warranted nervous step back and bumps Nick’s arm with his elbow, an unintentional touch from which he almost immediately recoils. It’s a touch that would look completely accidental from an outside perspective, but that represents, to Charlie, everything he thinks he’s not supposed to do and feel around Nick in public and even, to an extent, in private. His desire for comfort, closeness, and reassurance are all things he’s been taught he doesn’t deserve and shouldn’t want, and the rule of secrecy only compounds those suppressive feelings for Charlie. Nick is clearly a bit surprised and regretful that Charlie feels the need to apologize at all, but there’s no time for him to respond now.

Nick now has to navigate one of the most challenging instances yet of trying to walk the ever-thinner line between his rugby lad persona and the person he wants to be with Charlie. The space between Nick and Charlie is fully public right now, and in one of the least hospitable places it could be. All interaction between them here would be heavily scrutinized within a very narrow framework of accepted demonstrations of masculinity. So Nick, who is keenly aware of this in a much more visceral and personal way than he was before, is trying desperately to captain his team to victory (which requires equal attention to each of his teammates), keep an extra attentive eye on Charlie without appearing to do so, and manage lingering feelings of guilt about his culpability in Charlie’s pain during the game, all while a running loop of concern about how all his actions appear to everyone else—and to Charlie, who still often misinterprets Nick’s intentions—is running through his head. He doesn't quite manage to achieve all of these things.

At various points in the match we see Charlie’s concern for Nick—quiet, but visibly there. We also see Nick’s concern for Charlie, sometimes more vocal (certainly more vocal than with any other teammate) but always from a (necessary) distance, and often followed by self-suppressive facial expressions or body language. Charlie especially feels this distance, the stretching of the safe space between them and the lack of intentional, reassuring touch to ground him. He feels disconnected from this version of Nick who must be so many different things to so many different people. And while he feels this painful divide, he also knows that Nick has a lot of responsibilities outside of their relationship; he’s conscious of the secret they’re keeping and what kind of behavior Nick can display within that boundary; he’s aware, as Charlie always is, of their surroundings and how not only does he have to be a chameleon and become what he’s expected to be in this space, but now, because of their relationship, so too does Nick. While this act of blending in protects the space between them from the outside world, it also hides Nick and Charlie from each other; they can’t see each other clearly through the masks they’re both wearing. On top of and because of all of this, Charlie is harboring intense feelings of guilt for even wanting or expecting any kind of closeness at all with Nick in this scenario. His feelings that he’s not worth all the trouble Nick is going through intensify, and his spiral of self-blame and guilt continues.

---

When Charlie is tackled to the ground for the second time and injured enough not to get back up immediately, Nick is involuntarily, forcibly rooted to that line he walks. Charlie is hurting, and Nick feels trapped by his conflicted feelings about how he should act around Charlie in this arena, his own request for secrecy, and his misplaced guilt around Charlie’s injury. He wants to reinstate and enter the safe space between them, wants to reassure himself that Charlie is okay and to care for Charlie, but is held in place by the potential negative perception their audience would have of that kind of action.

These separate and equally misplaced guilt spirals continue when Nick visits Charlie in the infirmary after the match is cancelled. Charlie is happy to see Nick but almost entirely self-restrained, completely still, while Nick pauses in the doorway, already looking a bit chagrined and waiting for Charlie’s acknowledgment. Their exchanged “hey” is muted, with none of the usual enthusiasm, but Nick enters the room fully after Charlie greets him in return. Yet again, they’re having to reestablish the boundaries of their safe space, but now they’re doing it blindly, unaware of the silos of guilt they’ve each been in, with an incomplete understanding of the ways they’ve each been stretched thin by the pressures of not just the match but all the limits they’ve put on themselves; they only know that something isn’t right.

Nick scans Charlie’s body a couple of times, looking for additional injuries, asking Charlie if his nose is okay. When Charlie says he doesn’t know, Nick’s hands clench briefly before he carefully sits very close to Charlie on the infirmary table, intentionally allowing their legs to touch, showing Charlie that he wants to be near him in this way, that he wants the closeness back, that he cares more than he felt he was able to show on the pitch. Charlie, meanwhile, sits nearly completely still, hands clenched together in his lap; he wants that care and affection from Nick so badly, but he doesn’t believe he should want it, or that he deserves it, so he keeps his hands—and everything else—to himself.

When Nick has inspected Charlie’s nose and said, with relief, that he thinks it looks fine, he looks for another way to keep showing Charlie care and affection, another way to bridge the divide that has grown between them. Even though both boys are quite literally covered in mud, Nick tells Charlie, with a tiny huff of laughter, that he has mud on his face. Charlie returns the tiny laugh, as they both try to edge back to a place of ease together. As Nick wipes the mud off Charlie’s face—something Charlie could have done on his own but which Nick clearly chooses to do himself—he swallows repeatedly, opening and closing his mouth like there’s more he wants to say (or do). Leaves float around them, and the same pink glow surrounds them as during Charlie’s daydream about Nick declaring his eternal devotion. Nick is clearly feeling some of the things Charlie had hoped he would a few months ago, and for a just a little while, Charlie watches Nick’s eyes and enjoys this moment of tenderness. The physical space between them has closed, and they’re close, possibly, to entering their safe emotional space together as well.

But then when Nick is finished wiping Charlie’s face and his hand drops, the mesmerizing and comforting touch removed, Charlie’s compulsive guilt reasserts itself. He looks away, and down, breaking eye contact as he apologizes. Nick, clearly completely confused and thrown, says “What?,” frowning and looking intently at Charlie’s face. Charlie looks back, and as he begins to list all the ways he thinks he’s “messed up,” he rubs his hands together, repeatedly pinching his own palm, sinking into himself as he calls himself clingy and annoying.

Nick can’t understand how Charlie could think this—looking back at the day with any kind of objectivity shows a restrained, audience-conscious Charlie who did nothing to earn either of those adjectives. When he continues, “I’m making this so awkward,” Nick looks away, down at his own hands, frowning as Charlie continues “You wanted to keep us a secret and I’m messing it up.” Charlie is trying desperately to comply, to remain within the boundaries of their relationship as he perceives them, with all of his warped self-perception and negative expectations of Nick’s reactions based on Ben’s abusive treatment. He’s cracking under the self-imposed pressure, and the guilt comes flooding out. Nick, on the other hand, feels fully responsible for what happened to Charlie during the match, guilty that he didn’t help more both during the match itself and the practices that preceded it, and is now reminded again that his request for secrecy is causing Charlie distress.

Nick looks up toward the ceiling, just as he did after the kiss in Charlie’s room, preparing himself to say what’s on his mind, what he knows Charlie needs to hear. He shakes his head a little, at Charlie’s words and at himself. Charlie looks increasingly concerned at this gesture, steeling himself, but then Nick says “I’m the one who should be saying sorry.” There’s direct, sustained eye contact, a short, sharp sigh—this is intentional Nick—and extreme sincerity. It’s enough to at least get Charlie’s attention; there’s a blink and just the slightest hitch to his shoulders, a brief rising above his own thoughts, as he waits for Nick to say whatever else he needs to say.

Then Isaac walks in and the moment is broken. Nick is reminded immediately that it could have been anyone—a teammate, a coach, a medic—and though he’s clearly uncomfortable and shifts his body so it’s not turned toward Charlie anymore, he doesn’t actually get up. He decides to stay next to Charlie. As Isaac does absolutely nothing to hide the fact that he knows exactly what’s going on between Nick and Charlie, both boys’ discomfort increases—Nick’s out of a toxic mixture of fear, confusion, and lingering guilt, and Charlie’s from watching Nick withdraw and believing that his self-accusations have been proven true; someone outside of their safe space now knows the secret, and to Charlie, it’s his fault.

As soon as Isaac leaves, Nick gets up with a marked throat clearing, saying he’d “better” go, followed by a gulp-filled pause. The outside world has intruded on their shared space again, and Nick’s reminded that his absence from the rest of the team might be noticed. Half of him worries about that, while the other half feels guilty for caring what they think at all and how that caring in turn affects Charlie. Charlie assures Nick that Isaac won’t say anything—half of him wanting to reassure Nick, the other half feeling guilty that Nick needs reassurance in the first place. Nick gives a gruff “yeah . . . okay” in response, and with a conflicted, self-focused frown and look down, he hurriedly leaves without a goodbye. Charlie caves inward; in some ways, this went exactly the way he thought it would.

They're back in their silos.

[If you'd like more infirmary scene analysis, I recommend @stopper-my-heart's post here.]

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