Tao grins at me. He always seems more like his eccentric self when we’re outside of school. Tonight he’s wearing a stripy shirt that was probably intended for a significantly overweight businessman, with rolled-up green trousers and his signature red beanie. He genuinely does think he belongs in a Wes Anderson film.

He throws his arms around me and rests his head on mine. “Aw, you’re such an adorable lightweight. I’m glad we’re not leaving school this year.”

“If one more person mentions leaving school, I’m literally going to cry.”

He pats my cheek. “There, there. It’ll all be fine. You’re Nick and Charlie, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know what that means,” I say.

NICK

Everyone is talking about uni.

I don’t think I’ve ever been so excited for something, or so ready. And everyone else going to uni seems to agree. It’s the start of freedom. Doing things because we chose to do them. Finally being treated as adults.

But I get that, like, Charlie might not want to talk about it all the time. I mean, he’s still got a year of school left.

But it gets to eleven and Charlie is definitely avoiding me. Normally we stick pretty close together at parties, and considering how he was acting earlier… well, I’m a bit confused, if I’m honest.

I find him curled up in an armchair with his friend, Tao. I say hi to Tao and exchange pleasantries but can see Charlie staring at me. I crouch down next to the armchair so our eyes are level. His are unfocused and he’s blinking a lot – he’s pissed, all right. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” he snaps, with an irritated grin. “God, you don’t need to, like, check up on me every second, Jesus Christ.”

I feel myself recoil. Charlie hasn’t snapped at me like that for months. What the hell have I done?

I stand up again. “All right. Fine. No need to shout at me.”

He looks away. “I wasn’t shouting.”

“Yeah.” I turn around and go to leave the conservatory, but not fast enough that I don’t hear Tao say to Charlie, “What’s going on?”

CHARLIE

It’s midnight and I’m in the basement, where almost everyone’s come to dance, hoping that the blast of dubstep, some crappy remix of a Daft Punk song, will drown out the buzzing in my brain, but it doesn’t. I can’t stop thinking I’m a piece of shit, I’m the worst boyfriend in the entire universe. I lean against the wall but just end up sliding down it so I’m sitting on the floor, all the dancers blurring in front of me under Harry’s flashing fairy lights. Why am I being so weird and angry? Why am I like this?