Chapter Text
“You still okay taking separate cars? It’s going to be a long time until we see each other again – not until Valentine’s Day weekend in New York.”
“I know, but it really does make the most sense. You’ll need your car to get to the airport on Saturday, and I’ll need mine to get back to London by Monday,” Charlie babbles as he piles multiple festive gift bags into the backseat of his small yellow car. “Oh, shit. My present for your stepmother – I must’ve left it inside my flat.”
“I’ll wait,” the tall brunet man says, a bit coolly.
Charlie giggles and kisses his boyfriend’s cheek. “No, no, Ben! Don’t be silly. Get going. I’ll be 10 minutes behind you, at most.”
Charlie hooks up his phone to his car’s audio and pulls up Spotify, briefly debating between music or a podcast before selecting the latest episode of Universe City Presents: Sleepless in Sittingbourne. It’s a ‘very special holiday episode,’ according to the summary.
We’ll be speaking LIVE with Universe City fans around the world about their Christmas wishes and dreams. And who knows, maybe with a little holiday magic, some of those wishes will come true!
“Bit of a weird swerve,” Charlie mutters before tapping play, “but ‘tis the season, I suppose.”
After a bit of a preamble acknowledging the change in format, Aled gets their first caller on the line. A very young boy’s voice hesitantly introduces himself.
“Hi, this is Jonah – “
There’s a bleep after his name.
“Hi Jonah, no last names, okay? You sound a little younger than our typical fanbase. How old are you?”
“I’m eight. My dad and I listen to the show together.”
“Well, that’s really nice to hear, Jonah! And what’s your Christmas wish?”
“My dad needs a new wife. Or a new husband.”
Charlie lets out a very undignified snort laugh at that.
“Do you not like the wife – or husband – that he has now?” Aled asks, his voice tinged with amusement.
“He doesn’t have a wife or husband. That’s the problem.” Jonah sounds weary with the line of questioning already. “He had a wife. My mum. But she died.”
“Oh Jonah, I’m very sorry to hear that.”
“Well, who can fucking believe this.” Charlie gently bumps up the volume.
“Yeah, I’ve been pretty sad but I think my dad’s worse.”
“And why do you say that?”
“He cries a lot. He never sleeps.”
“And you think a new wife will help with all that?”
“OR a husband. My dad is bisexual, actually. Please don’t erasure him.”
Charlie laughs again.
“My apologies, Jonah. It won’t happen again. Is…is your dad around right now?”
“Yeah, he’s outside on the terrace.”
“Can I speak with him?”
Charlie gay gasps. “NO! It’s a trap! Don’t do it Jonah!”
“Are you kidding me? I’d get in so much trouble!”
“I’m not really sure I can help much if I don’t hear from your dad directly.”
“Ok, but if I get grounded I am never listening to your show ever again.”
“Fair enough.”
“DAD! DAD! There’s someone on the phone for you!” Jonah calls out, then returns to the conversation with Aled. “His name’s Nick. Nick –”
Another bleep.
“No last names, Jonah! Is your dad coming to the phone?”
“Yeah, here he is.”
“Um. Hi?”
The voice hits Charlie’s eardrums with an electrical zap – it’s familiar yet thrillingly new, hesitant, and sweet, tinged with honey and sadness.
“Hi,” Charlie whispers out to the darkness.
“Hi Nick, this is Aled Last from the Universe City podcast. We’re doing an extra-special holiday episode where we’re talking with our listeners about their wishes and dreams. Your son Jonah contacted us with a special Christmas wish he has for you.”
“Oh, he did, did he,” Nick huffs. “Jonah, get back here please.”
Charlie laughs at Nick’s poor attempt at a Stern Dad Voice. Jonah can be heard mildly protesting in the background.
“Jonah tells me you recently lost your wife. I’m terribly sorry to hear that.”
“JESUS, ALED,” Charlie snaps. “Happy fucking holidays.”
“Um, yes,” Nick stumbles, clearly confused. “She passed away in April. Cancer.”
There’s a slight crack in Nick’s voice. Charlie flips his windshield wipers on before he realises that it’s not raining – he’s just crying.
Nick stays on the line for a long, long time. He’s patient and polite, an open book of dad jokes and wistful memories of his late wife. I was just taking her hand , he recalls, to help her out of a cab. And it was like…magic, little electric sparks and stars from the moment we touched.
Aled gently asks about his moods, his appetite, his sleep habits – as if he’s more of an old-school call-in radio shrink than a sci-fi podcast host. He and Jonah moved from Rochester to Sittingbourne just a few months prior, looking for a change of scenery, a change of...well, everything. Yes, he’s crying less, he thinks. No, he’s still not sleeping much. Yes, he’s bisexual. No, he isn’t ready to date, much less get married again, JONAH.
Charlie sits in his idling car outside Ben’s parents’ house, not quite able to turn off the sound of Nick’s voice. Eventually he does, knowing he’s long, long past his promised 10-minute delay. He furiously wipes his eyes on his coat sleeves and clears his throat, bracing himself for the long, cold evening ahead with the extended Hope family.
“This is the straightest movie I have ever seen in my entire life,” Tao grouses.
“It’s a classic, though!” Elle protests, turning up the volume on An Affair to Remember while Tao pulls his beanie over his eyes.
“How’s the letter coming along, Charlie?” Isaac asks, not looking up from his book.
“Stop encouraging this Nick nonsense!” Tao groans.
“Dear Sleepless and Son,” Charlie reads from his laptop. “I have never written a letter like this in my life.”
“That’s what everyone says at the beginning of letters to strangers,” Elle points out.
“I know that! You think I don’t know that?” Charlie pouts, then quietly holds the backspace key down.
“I’m just saying, you’re probably not the only person who was touched by that episode, and probably not the only person trying to write to him. You need to…I don’t know…set yourself apart, somehow.”
“Ah, yes,” Charlie sighs, and starts pecking at his keyboard sarcastically. “Dear Sleepless and Son, Please feel free to immediately cease reading this ridiculous letter and move on to another lovesick stranger’s correspondence, as it will surely be more interesting than mine. On the off chance you disregard that instruction (respect!), my name is Charlie, a proper gay nerd who grew up in Kent and now lives and works in London. I’m a children’s book editor who specialises in stories for and about LGBTQIA+ kids and families, so Jonah can rest assured I would never erasure your bisexuality. I also play the drums, which I have been told by multiple (dubious) sources is ‘so cool.’”
“I like it!” Isaac enthuses. “Now ask to meet in real life.”
“WHAT?” Tao gasps, horrified. “Isaac, he could literally be a serial killer. Or worse, a Marvel fan. ”
“Just pick a neutral spot, somewhere public,” Isaac counters while Tao rolls his eyes.
Charlie continues typing. “I want to meet you…”
“At the top of the Empire State Building, midnight, Valentine’s Day,” Elle shouts, triumphantly, pointing at the movie.
Charlie nods and taps away at his laptop. “I’ll be in New York with Ben; I can squeeze it in.”
He pauses and groans. “I’ll be in New York with BEN. What the fuck am I even doing right now?”
Charlie slams his laptop shut and joins Elle on the couch, collapsing next to her with a sigh. “I’m hopeless.”
“Hopeless romantic, maybe,” Elle slides her arm around his slim shoulders. “Like me.”
Tao shushes them, now thoroughly engrossed in the movie. “Wait, wait,” he says with a suspicious scowl. “He’s not…he’s not just going to walk out the door and leave? She was hit by a bloody taxi while trying to meet you!”
Charlie sniffles and fakes a cough.
“She didn’t even get up to say hello, you fucking numpty! She’s literally lying on the…couch…with…with the blanket over her…” Tao squeaks out a small sob and puts a hand over his heart. “Her…shrivelled little legs…”
Elle passes a box of tissues around.
No one notices Isaac quietly moving to Charlie’s desk and opening his laptop with a small half-smile.
“What about the designer from the CLD job? She’s pert,” Harry asks before taking an abnormally large bite of sandwich.
“Imogen?” Nick frowns.
“Yeah! Imogen!” Harry has not swallowed his abnormally large bite of sandwich. “Proper fit, too. You should ask her out!”
“Out?” Nick chokes on his food. “Like, out out? On a date?”
“Yeah mate, why not?”
“Because…no, I’m not ready for… out out, yet. I haven’t dated in forever. Like, I don’t even know what it’s like…out there.”
Harry attempts to think. It doesn’t go well.
“It’s all apps now, and hashtags? But since you already have Imogen’s number, you don’t need to bother with all that.”
“So I should just call her?”
“WOT, no!” Harry visibly recoils. “No, you don’t bloody call her. You text her, Like a normal fucking person. Only a psychopath calls people.”
“Oh,” Nick nods, then huffs out a small laugh. “And what about people who mail letters to a complete stranger after hearing them speak on a podcast one time?”
“Letters? Like…letters letters? Paper letters?”
“Yep, exactly. Hundreds of them.”
“Wait, so like…are we talking about hundreds of strangers mailing individual letters, or one stranger mailing all of the letters?”
“Does it matter? Is one of those scenarios better?”
“I’m not sure!” Harry sips his drink while furrowing his brow. “Is this a hypnotherical?”
“A what?”
“A hypnotherical scenario. Or did one of them actually happen?”
“First of all, it’s hypothetical, you brainless twat. And second of all, the first one did happen. To me. Hundreds of paper letters from hundreds of strangers.”
Nick gives Harry the briefest of background on his brush with podcast fame back at Christmas, and how ever since, the show dutifully forwards a seemingly never-ending stream of letters that arrive in their P.O. box addressed to Sleepless in Sittingbourne.
“It’s crazy, right? Like these people must be batshit insane or desperate or both,” Nick laughs at the randomness of it all. “I let Jonah read a few of them for fun but then he got kind of hung up on one particular letter for some reason. Been tossing all the new ones right in the bin.”
“I don’t know, actually sounds proper romantic,” Harry replies, looking across the lunch counter at their waitress a little wistfully.
Nick just shakes his head and pulls out his phone to text Imogen like a normal fucking person.
Charlie’s phone rings in the middle of a work meeting. He mutters an apology and quickly moves to silence the call, pausing just briefly to smile at the name on the screen.
“Who is it Charlieeeeee,” Darcy teases from the other side of the conference table. “Is it your hot hot boyfriend man?”
“Darcy, stop meddling!” Tara gently elbows her work wife in the ribs. “Anyway, call him back, Charlie. I think we’ve covered everything we really need to – the rest of the agenda items could really be an email, honestly.”
“Everything could be an email, Tara,” Charlie laughs as he collects his laptop and meeting notes.
“I dunno,” Isaac says quietly from his seat in the corner. “There’s still something to be said for a nice old-fashioned letter.”
Charlie looks at him, a bit puzzled, before stepping outside the room to call Ben back.
It rings once, twice, before Charlie’s sent to voicemail.
Jonah is fuming. He scowls at his plate and tries to block out the inane chatter of the grown-ups at the table.
“We’re never, ever going to finish this job, I swear to God,” his dad laughs. “Every week it’s this big song-and-dance, with her going on and on like, ‘I don’t know, you’re the architect, you tell me, but could you maybe move everything in the front of the house to the back of the house and put a swimming pool in the basement and a solarium in the attic and ooh! Could the entire house just open up on one big hinge so I can get in with the garage door opener?’”
His date is laughing. No, cackling. No, screeching. It’s the worst sound Jonah has ever heard in his entire life and he hates it.
“And of course I have to stand there and go ‘yeah, sure, we can do that, we’ll just have to…”
“Move the kitchen cabinets!” the woman shrieks and dissolves into more high-pitched monkey noises.
Nick chuckles, softly, then turns to look at his son. “Jonah, you’ve been awfully quiet tonight. Everything alright?”
“Yeah, just not very hungry I guess.” It’s a lie. He’s starving. But he won’t give this…this intruder the satisfaction. Who shows up at someone else’s house with enough groceries for a month? Who takes over someone else’s kitchen like that? Who thinks lobster thermidor is something you serve to an 8-year-old? “Can I be excused?”
“Sure, sure,” Nick takes Jonah’s plate and digs into his untouched lobster. “Wait up, though, manners! Can you please thank Imogen for coming over to cook us this delicious meal?”
“Thank you for dinner. I never saw anyone cook potatoes like that,” Jonah says flatly, then flashes his biggest, fakest smile before leaving the room in what he hopes is a dramatic fashion.
“I’m…glad you liked it?” Imogen calls out after him. She looks at Nick and cringes. “I don’t think that went very well.”
“He’s eight,” Nick offers up apologetically. “And he’s really good at it.”
This sets Imogen off again, and Jonah turns up the music in his room to drown out the torturous cacophony while he re-reads Charlie’s letter for the hundredth time.
It’s time to take matters into his own hands, he thinks. He opens his laptop and gets to work.
“Charlie, can you get the door? It’s probably the postman!”
“Yeah, one second,” Charlie quickly brushes his teeth before padding to the door in his socks to collect the mail. He takes it to the sitting room and distributes it to his flatmates – catalogues, mostly, mixed with the occasional bill or credit card offer – before pausing to look at a plain-looking enveloped address to him.
“This is from…the podcast? From Universe City?” He looks up to see Elle and Tao’s confused-looking faces mirroring his own…and Isaac’s barely contained and knowing smile.
“I may have mailed your letter,” he confesses with glee. “What can I say? I wanna believe in romance!”
Charlie rips open the envelope with trembling hands. Inside is a handwritten note on Universe City -branded letterhead and a second, smaller envelope. It’s simply addressed to CHARLIE, c/o Universe City.
He clears his throat and reads the note.
Dear Charlie,
This arrived in our P.O. Box today. Hope it’s okay that we forwarded it along to you. After all, we did promise a little holiday magic to make a few wishes and dreams come true!
Happy belated Christmas and New Year, and a merry early Valentine’s Day,
Aled and the entire Universe City family
“How the fuck did they get your address?! It literally says ‘CHARLIE’ and nothing else!” Tao sputters, but Charlie ignores him, entirely focused on getting the letter out of the second envelope.
Dear Charlie,
Thanks for your letter. It was great. Your job sounds cool and playing the drums is defiantly cool.
“Defiantly cool?” Elle giggles. “Does it really say defiantly cool?”
Charlie looks pained but continues reading.
We are very excited about meeting you at the top of the Empire State Building on Valentine’s Day and seeing if we are M. F. E. O.
See ya soon,
Sleepless in Sittingbourne
“M. F. E. O?” Isaac looks puzzled.
Charlie drops the letter onto the coffee table and rolls his eyes. “It means…ugh… made for each other.”
“Aw, that’s kind of cute?” Elle tries to sound cheerful as she picks up the letter to inspect it. “It’s like a little sign?”
“I don’t believe in signs, Elle,” Charlie protests as he joins her on the couch. “If anything, it’s simply a sign that the NEXT time I go momentarily insane and feel compelled to engage in grand romantic gestures with a total stranger, NO ONE INDULGE ME. Hit me over the head with a frying pan until I come to my senses.”
“Do you think he’s serious though?” Elle asks. “About meeting in New York on Valentine’s Day? I mean, you did say you and Ben would-“
“Stop! Elle, please, please stop,” Charlie throws his head back and covers his face with his hands. “I know you don’t think much of Ben but-“
“He’s a knob,” Tao interrupts. “But he’s at least a knob who can write above a primary school level. This man is clearly some kind of neanderthal sports lad.”
“There’s nothing wrong with sports lads!” Isaac is not ready to give up on this. “Charlie’s fancied loads of sports lads. Remember your form seatmate? In secondary? The rugby team captain! What was his name again?”
Charlie opens his mouth to answer but the sounds get stuck in his throat.
“His name was…also...Nick. Nick Nelson.”
Nick hears his son’s bedroom slam for what feels like the 50th time that day. He takes a deep breath and resumes packing his bag for his weekend getaway. He cannot give in to this tantrum. This ridiculous, unhinged tantrum over a letter. A letter from a complete and utter stranger who is probably a desperate absolute nutter and…
“I DON’T LIKE IMOGEN! I LIKE CHARLIE!” Jonah’s voice is muffled through the door, but Nick can still hear him. He closes his eyes and repeats their family grief counsellor’s words.
He says he wants you to date, but he isn’t prepared for the reality of you dating anyone who isn’t his mother. This Charlie person is both a convenient fantasy and an excuse to reject any real-life romantic partner.
And the reality is that Imogen isn’t anything like Jonah’s mother, Nick’s wife. She’s new and different and fine. Their budding relationship is fine. Not great, not epic, not magical sparks flying and birds singing when they touch hands…just fine.
But goddammit, it’s Valentine’s Day and Nick wants to get fucking laid. It’s not a crime. Jonah can just deal with it.
Jonah is quiet now, presumably having finally exhausted himself from the morning’s theatrics. Nick lets him be until his babysitter arrives – a sullen-looking teenager who Nick is still vaguely unsure can properly care for a pet rock, much less a human child, but hey. It’s Valentine’s Day weekend and he was lucky to find anyone available at all.
“Jonah, I’m heading out now, okay?” Nick knocks on his son’s door and waits for a response. When he doesn’t get one, he tries again. “Jonah, your sitter is here and I need to leave. Can you please come out now?”
More silence. Nick sighs and opens the door, then frowns in confusion when he finds it empty.
He moves down the hall to try the loo, then his office. “Jonah? Jonah! This isn’t funny, Jonah!”
Nick runs around the house, getting increasingly panicked and frantic.
The babysitter shuffles uselessly after him. “Can I get like, paid in advance?”
Charlie triple-checks his seat assignment before finally settling into the first-class seat next to a small, apparently unaccompanied child. He’s cute and blond and freckled and his big brown eyes regard Charlie warily, and he hugs his rainbow backpack a little tighter to his chest. Charlie wishes he’d packed some of the books he’s worked on to share with the little guy, but can only offer him what he hopes is a friendly, reassuring smile.
A few minutes after takeoff, the little boy says, “I’ve never been on a plane before.”
“Well, that’s exciting! How old are you?”
“Eight.”
“Wow. I was a lot older than that before I got to ride on a plane.”
The boy nods and looks out the window. “I’ve never been to New York before, either.”
Charlie frowns a bit at this – what kind of nutbar parent sends an 8-year-old child on a transatlantic flight alone for the first time, to a humongous city they’ve never been to?
“I’ve only been there once before. But it was just for work.”
“Is it…not for work this time?”
Charlie smiles as the child visibly relaxes. “No, not for work. For Valentine’s Day.”
“So for love?”
Charlie fights back a laugh at that one. “Yes, I suppose for love.”
He ignores the pang of disappointment when his mind conjures up an image of Ben. It’s followed immediately by a pang of guilt when the image is replaced with an image of what Podcast Nick might look like.
It’s a lot like Charlie imagines a grown-up Nick Nelson from secondary might look like now, if he’s honest, thanks to Isaac dragging yet another Nick into the mess of Charlie's brain.
A flight attendant stops by with a bourbon and Coke for Charlie, a regular Coke for her “little special flying buddy” – Charlie sticks out his tongue at that and Jonah snorts out a laugh – plus pillows and blankets for both.
The boy fusses with the pillow a little bit and burritos himself in the blanket. He sips his Coke and smiles at Charlie.
“So what are you going to New York for? I’m guessing it’s not for work?” Charlie teases.
This elicits a giggle and the appearance of a single dimple on the little boy’s right cheek.
“No, not for work. I guess…I guess it’s for love too.”
“Love?” Charlie raises an eyebrow in curious amusement. “Goodness, you’re advanced for your age.”
“Not for me,” the boy blushes from his cheeks all the way to the tips of his ears. “For my dad. I’m going to New York to meet his new husband. To meet my new…father.”
Charlie has many, many more questions after that, but he notices the child’s heavy eyelids and breathy yawns. He decides to leave him be while he sleeps through the rest of the long, quiet flight.
Nick cannot believe this.
Nick cannot fucking believe any of this.
He shifts his large frame in the tiny economy airline seat and tries to stay calm. He is consumed with dueling urges to either die out of fear for his precious only child’s safety…or to murder the little shit with his bare hands the second he finds him.
New York. Jonah went to New York.
By himself. Alone. With a plane ticket bought with his father’s “borrowed” credit card, a car service charged to Nick’s firm’s account, his passport, the contents of his piggy bank…and a vague plan involving the Empire State Building, midnight on Valentine’s Day, and a complete fucking stranger.
Nick groans loudly enough to earn dirty looks from his seatmates, which he ignores. He unfolds the note he found on Jonah’s nightstand and reads it for the hundredth time.
Dad,
I am sorry but I went to New York to get Charlie for you. I know you are super mad at me right now but I promise it will defiantly be worth it.
I love you,
Jonah
P.S. Imojean laughs like a hyena.
Nick looks at his watch. Jonah has surely already landed by now. Jesus fucking Christ, what a nightmare.
“Your table, sir,” the host says with a dramatic sweep of his arms. “Our best table, I should point out.”
Charlie nods, a little awkwardly. Ben was supposed to be here already, but the host insisted Charlie was the first to arrive before leading him to this table. This empty table. This empty table with the most breathtaking view of the New York skyline, and most prominently, the Empire State Building.
“Thank you, the view really is amazing,” Charlie sits and accepts his menu with a forced smile. As soon as the host turns away he digs his phone out to check for a message from Ben.
There isn’t one, so Charlie sends off a couple quick texts.
Just sat down at the restaurant!
The view from our table is unbelievable! You must have booked this ages ago!
Are you almost here?
Charlie watches the typing bubbles start, stop, and start again.
I’m sorry
I’m stuck at work
Since ur there already treat yourself to a nice dinner
Meet you at the hotel later?
Charlie doesn’t text back. He gazes out the window instead, watching as the Empire State Building’s windows light up to create a dancing, blinking pattern of red hearts that start, stop, and start again.
It’s like a little sign.
“I don’t believe in signs,” Charlie grumbles to himself as he opens the cocktail list. “I also don’t believe in a $28 Manhattan, and yet here we are.”
The elevator doors open and Jonah takes a deep breath and steps outside. It’s cold. Really cold. Much, much colder than he was expecting. He checks the time and sighs – his breath puffs like smoke. Thirty minutes until midnight. Okay. He can do this. He has to do this.
He begins the first of what will eventually become many laps around the observation area. He’s tempted to use some of his change to look through one of the telescope-y things but figures he better not spend any more of it, just to be safe. Besides, he’s here to look for Charlie, not buildings.
Of course, he has no idea what Charlie looks like, which he realises now is a bit of a problem. He’s looking for a man, maybe someone around his dad’s age? How old IS his dad, anyway? 32? 57? 84? He’s old, is all Jonah knows.
He figures Charlie might wear a Pride pin, so he scans the crowd for any flash of rainbow. Maybe he’ll be carrying some of those kids’ books he works on. And have a set of drumsticks in his back pocket, or something. Charlie is defiantly cool, Jonah thinks. Be on the lookout for someone cool.
Dinner was…fine, Charlie thinks. A typical New York City meal that took a very long time and ultimately involved very little actual food, so now Charlie’s out on the sidewalk, munching on a giant slice of greasy pizza. At least he was able to charge the outrageous restaurant bill to the credit card Ben used to make the reservation, he thinks, while he wanders around a bit, stalling for time despite the bitter February cold.
He doesn’t want to go back to Ben’s hotel room. He doesn’t want to go back to Ben.
He wants to go back to London. He wants to go home, to…
Charlie freezes in front of a shop window: It’s a small appliance store with dozens of televisions of various sizes on display. The store is closed but the TVs are all on and all currently airing… An Affair to Remember.
“Elle would love this,” he says to no one in particular. He pulls out his phone to take a photo when he sees a text from Isaac.
This is TOTALLY random but Universe City just dropped a special best-of episode. I’m listening to Nick’s segment now and can’t shake the feeling that his voice is SUPER FAMILIAR???
Anyway, hope you’re having lots of fun and romance in NYC!
Charlie looks up from his phone as the Empire State Building comes into view across the wall of televisions.
It’s like a little sign.
Charlie pockets his phone and takes off, running as fast as he can.
Nick hurls himself into motion the second his plane lands, practically climbing over the seats to get out the door. He jogs through the airport, cuts the taxi line like a man possessed, and after an interminable amount of stop-and-go traffic, bails on his cab to jog down the sidewalk the second the Empire State Building comes into view. By the time he’s paid the fee and gotten into the elevator he’s panting and wheezing and so red in the face the other tourists are openly staring at him and attempting to keep their distance from him in the small area.
The elevator door opens and Nick once again propels his body forward, frantically shouting his son’s name. “JONAH! JONAH!”
“Dad?”
Nick freezes at the sound of the small voice. He spins around and lets out a strangled cry at the sight of his son’s flop of blond hair and red jacket. His cheeks are pink and chapped from the cold and tear stains. Nick scoops him up and they both cry like babies, loud and gasping.
“Jonah, Jonah,” Nick sobs. “I was so scared, I just…what if I couldn’t…what if I didn’t…”
“I know, I know,” Jonah snuffles into his father’s neck, his legs still dangling off the ground. “I’m sorry, I thought…I really thought he’d be here.”
Nick sets Jonah down gently and kneels to cup his small face in his large hands. He’s so cold, Nick thinks. How long has he been up here waiting, alone?
“But he didn’t come. He’s not here. And it’s after midnight now and Charlie isn’t here.”
“But I’m here, Jonah. I’m your dad and I’m right here.”
Jonah manages a nod and a smile before falling forward, allowing Nick to scoop him back up and cradle him in his arms again. He stays there, just like that, throughout the long, long elevator ride down.
Charlie sprints through the building’s lobby and skids to a stop in front of the information desk. An elderly man in uniform is already shaking his head sadly.
“We’re closing up, I’m afraid. No more runs tonight.”
Charlie lets out a pained-sounding gasp, both from the immense disappointment and the exertion of his run. “Oh, oh no, please? Just one more? I’ll…pay extra? It’s just…”
The man is watching Charlie flail with a sort-of heard-it-all-before amusement, but he’s stopped shaking his head. Charlie soldiers on.
“This is going to sound ridiculous, but there was someone I was supposed to meet. I’m already late and he’s probably not there, but if I don’t at least look I’ll always wonder.”
The older man smiles. “Hoping to meet Cary Grant, I assume?”
Charlie baulks. “You know that movie?”
“One of my husband’s favourites. Come on, I’ll take you up.”
Charlie scrambles to follow and gushes his repeated thank-yous as they board the elevator. Charlie attempts to slow his breathing and fix his hair in the shiny-but-not-truly-reflective gold doors. His curls are all over the place, the way Elle loves and Ben hates, so he leaves them be and focuses on smoothing out his clothing instead.
When the door opens, Charlie is met with dark, cold silence. The attendant gives Charlie a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry, sir. It’s empty.”
Charlie nods, unsure of whether the tears in his eyes are from the wind or his emotions. “Can I just…can I take a minute, please?”
“Go ahead.”
Charlie walks to the edge of the platform and leans against the barrier, looking out at the city. Ben’s out there, somewhere, Charlie thinks. I cannot believe I had to come all the way to New York when I could’ve dumped him back home.
He shifts a bit and his leg bumps into something soft. He looks down and slowly picks up a small rainbow backpack – just like the one the little boy on his flight had been desperately clutching. He turns it around, and sure enough, there’s an ID tag, filled out in a child’s handwriting.
If found, please return to: JONAH NELSON
Sittingbourne Kent ME10 3HT
“Oh my God ,” Charlie whispers.
Behind him, the other elevator arrives with a ding and the doors open. Charlie turns.
“I left it right by the…”
Jonah stops short and looks at Charlie.
Charlie looks at Jonah.
Nick and Charlie look at Nick and Charlie.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
“I remember you…from Truham. You’re...Charlie Spring.”
“And you’re Nick Nelson. My form seatmate.”
“You’re Charlie?” Jonah asks, his excitement bubbling up again. “That means you’re our Charlie! Dad, it’s our Charlie!”
“Wait. You’re… that Charlie? You wrote the letter?”
Charlie nods, feeling a bit sheepish all of a sudden. “And you’re that Nick. Sleepless in Sittingbourne?”
“Wow.” Nick’s words fail him after that. He stares at Charlie, trying to merge the younger version in his memory – forever preserved there as his bisexual awakening, that beautiful blue-eyed boy with the dark curls and the dimples – with the older version standing before him. Still beautiful, almost heartstoppingly so, with a bit more mischief in his dark blue eyes than before, as his lips curl upwards into a grin and oh, fuck. The dimples.
“And you must be Jonah,” Charlie says, “My aeroplane seatmate.”
“Wait, your what? ” Nick squeaks.
Charlie hands Jonah his backpack with a soft laugh and shrugs. “Small world, I suppose.”
Behind them, the elevator attendant loudly clears his throat, reminding them of his presence and finite level of patience.
“We should go,” Nick says, taking one of Jonah’s hands in his.
Charlie watches Nick’s face a bit nervously. He looks exactly how Charlie pictured him – Podcast Nick, Grown-up Rugby Nick, Fantasy Nick, and now…real Nick.
Nick holds out his other hand to Charlie.
“Shall we?”
Charlie beams and takes Nick’s hand. Nick’s breath hitches when they touch and Charlie’s eyes widen; he feels it too. They walk hand-in-hand to the elevator. Neither lets go once they’re inside.
“Nick?”
Nick turns to look at Charlie again. He’s smiling. They’re both smiling.
“It’s nice to meet you. Again.”
Jonah looks at the two men and then turns around as the elevator doors close, smiling so hard his face almost hurts.
In any universe, in any city; wishes can come true.