Music sounds better with you

but this , this is everything

Charlie buys them all a round of sambuca shots and they take a cheesy Instagram boomerang that Nick is pretty sure is completely in the dark, then they head upstairs to the best room, the one that plays back to back cheesy pop. Manrika shoulders open the door and they're immediately hit with a wave of S Club 7 and people around them reaching for the stars.

And after that, the bangers just keep on coming. They move onto Steps, followed by Vengaboys, Rihanna, Blue, 5ive, Anastasia, so much cheese that Nick just loves. The rest of the guys appear just as One Direction appear and they scream the words to What Makes You Beautiful before going for another cigarette.

Charlie gets steadily drunker as the night goes on. He smokes more cigarettes than Nick thought he'd ever see his boyfriend smoke (not that that's a bad thing, just different) and he's really loosened up around his friends. Don't get him wrong, Nick has seen Charlie drunk before; hell, he's seen him really drunk before, but here he just seems to fit.

He hopes that this is a good sign for the next few years to come, that Charlie slots into life up in Leeds and loves it like he's come to love it. He fits around his flatmates too, and they seem to like him back. They're living together in a house of six again next year, so he's already excited for film nights and lazy mornings and Sundays spent together in their proper lounge area with Charlie by his side as well.

Charlie's part way through teaching the girls the dance to Saturday Night by Whigfield, but Nick is also fairly tipsy and doesn't care that he's interrupting.

He grabs Charlie away from them and snogs him breathless, just because he can.
Charlie's arms wind around his neck and he sways, not the most steady on his feet. "Oh," he says, voice sounding like it's lost in his throat. "Hello, I guess."
"Missed you," Nick says, dopey and honest. "I just love having you up here, that's all."
"Me too." Charlie grins at him like he's magic. "I love you very much, but..." He breaks away and tangles their fingers together instead. "I want to dance!"

It's 4am when the DJ announces that there's only to be one more song until they close. Charlie utters a drunken protest against his shoulder, then cheers as the song shifts to Yellow by Coldplay, of all bloody songs.
"I wanna keep dancing," he slurs, swaying Nick from side to side. "Is this a dance song?"
"Not really," Nick tells him, adjusting their hold so his arms are wrapped around Charlie's shoulders, ready to slow dance. "It's a bit Gavin & Stacey, this."
"That's Fix You ," Charlie corrects, always right even when he's pissed. "This one isn't great though. I want Steps!"
"We can listen to Steps when we get back," Nick offers weakly, even though he has a sneaking suspicion that Charlie will conk out the second they get back to his flat. "Come here, my tiny baby gay."

"Baby," Charlie giggles. "I like baby so much." He hiccups, then stares at Nick with wide eyes, full of sincerity even as drunk as he is. "Do not use it for me around Tao."
Nick throws his head back in a laugh. "Oh, I am absolutely using it in front of Tao. You underestimate how much I want them to tease us for being gross."

"Fucker," Charlie hisses, then leans back and starts to sing. "Your skiiiin, oh yeah, your skin and bones..."
"Jesus Christ," Nick mutters, mostly to himself. "Maybe stick to the drums, baby, yeah?"
"For you I'd bleed myself dry," Charlie finishes, then slams their lips together, which Nick happily sinks into.

They spend the rest of the song swaying and snogging, until he's rudely tapped on the shoulder by Manrika.
"Oi, lovebirds," she says, gesturing to the room at large. "The house lights are on. Time to go."
"Are we sharing taxis?" Nick asks, arms tight around Charlie's waist as his boyfriend leans all his weight into him.

"Yeah, but I think we're going to Maccies first," Manrika says. "Wanna come?"
"Fuck yeah," Charlie says, blinking himself back awake. "I want an Oasis."
"You probably need it," Nick mutters under his breath. He kisses the side of his head before he tangles their sweaty hands together again. "Follow me, yeah?"

Charlie's drunk enough that he stumbles a little bit on the sticky floor, but they manage to make it out of there in one piece. They hold hands and kiss in the crowded streets, still full of people but with nobody sparing them a second glance as Charlie pushes them against a lamppost and snogs him breathless.

Even at the start of uni, just the very idea of doing something like this would have filled him with a weird anxiety, an anxiety he doesn't want to have, but struggles with all the same. It's the same anxiety that bubbles in his belly whenever David makes a shitty comment or if the rugby team they're playing against are particularly brutish and make offhand homophobic comments.
But this, this is everything .

And a few minutes later, when he's eating cold chips with Charlie perched precariously in his lap, slurping obnoxiously loudly at his Oasis, he thinks that yes, these are the best years of his life and he's going to enjoy them for all they're worth.
Because things like this are what university is all about.

It's the best feeling in the world.