Chapter Text
Charles couldn’t remember the last time he had fallen asleep.
Sure, as a ghost, he had slipped into small bouts of unconsciousness now and then. More out of boredom than need, and when they didn’t have a case on their hands. But real sleep—the kind that drags your mind into complete darkness and recharges you—had been a distant memory, another thing he could add to the list of things left behind.
Back when he was alive, sleep had been an escape for him. It gave him an excuse to avoid schoolwork or, more often, a way to escape his dad’s wrath. After some pretty bad beatings, he’d lie in bed, his body throbbing with pain, trying to stifle his sobs and cries into his single pillow. It never did work like he wanted it to, and he would end up with his dad returning with sharp words and threats; his mom would watch, helping after the fact when his dad would leave. He’d then bury himself under his thin blanket and hope desperately for sleep to take him away. Sometimes it did, sometimes it didn’t. Either way, it was nothingness he would welcome with open arms.
Now, waking up was odd. Charles’s body felt heavy and his mind foggy as it attempted to break free from the grasp of sleep. It was a painfully slow process, as if his body needed to readjust to actually waking up. What was also odd was the feeling of warmth beneath his head. It was a soft, familiar heat. It reminded him of what it would be like to feel the sun when he was alive. It wasn’t scorching or overwhelming; instead, it was like a soft hum that others might allow themselves to fall back onto and into the dreamless dark.
However, Charles couldn’t do that. Sleep meant vulnerability now. He was a ghost, after all—he shouldn’t need sleep. So, the fact he had managed to do so at all was unsettling, not aces in the slightest. His eyes blinked open slowly, trying to shake off this unfamiliar new disorientation from sleep. Charles didn’t like the lack of control he seemed to have. Still, he allowed his eyes to roam the room. He was in the office, that was good. Charles had gotten scared that he had somehow gone and fallen asleep on a case. That would be a disaster because that would mean Edwin would have been alone.
Wait.
Edwin .
Charles’s heart skipped a beat as he realized his head wasn’t resting on the couch. Instead of the lackluster pressure of the old couch, he felt something firm yet yielding beneath him. His breath hitched as he looked up, finding Edwin above him, a book in hand, his fingers absentmindedly combing through Charles’s hair.
Oh. That was nice.
Edwin seemed absorbed in his book, eyes scanning the pages with his usual focus. Charles felt an inexplicable surge of relief. Edwin was safe. He hadn’t gotten into any trouble. Charles hadn’t even realized he’d been holding his breath until it came rushing out in a shaky exhale. The movement caught Edwin’s attention because he looked down, setting the book aside. His fingers stilled in Charles’s hair, and Charles immediately mourned the absent feeling. Edwin’s eyebrows rose slightly in surprise, as if he hadn’t expected him to wake up so soon.
And wait.
His head was in Edwin’s lap.
Heat rushed to his face, and for a split second, Charles considered if he was dreaming. Sure, they had grown touchy with each other, very much so after spending over three decades with one another. Yet, he had never—not at this angle anyway, not this close. From this distance, he could make out the sharpness of Edwin’s jaw, see how his sleeves had been rolled up to expose his arms filled with lean muscle, and see how they were almost draped over him. Charles hoped it wasn’t obvious that he was checking him out. He barely had his mind straight at the moment—cue whatever joke one could make about that, he supposed. But all he knew was that Edwin was definitely fit, and he had known this for a while and was pretty sure he was missing a lot of whatever led to this . Especially since he hadn’t told Edwin anything, he had kept it to himself. So this was them just being best mates, yeah?
Charles felt he should probably ask about
this,
but he didn’t think he could trust his own mouth to say nothing ridiculous, as he felt the burning in his cheeks. He still wished he had the answer to whether it was apparent as a ghost.
He thought he might as well begin with the basics.
“How long was I out?” Charles murmured, his voice husky. And wow, it was unfamiliar to his ears.
Edwin gave him a gentle smile that curled his lips, it was brills. “Not too long. I estimate about seven hours at most.”
Seven hours? That was long. Too long. Anything could have happened during that time—an intruder, an attacker. Edwin could have been hurt, leaving to deal with the attacker while Charles snoozed away. He didn’t know what type of attacker per se, but he knew the thought made him panicky. They had been doing something before, with a… a…
Shit. Charles couldn’t seem to picture it. His brain still felt foggy, and his memories of before he slept were just out of reach. He could feel them there, taunting him.
Did he hit his head or something? Was that why he couldn't remember?
He knew ghosts could definitely get concussions, all from experience, of course. The Case of the Downtown Wraith had been more trouble than it was worth, and while Charles had been keeping the Wraith occupied, giving Edwin time to find what was keeping them tied to the old downtown building, he had been hit in the head by an iron bar. It is more like walloped, as Edwin would say. Either way, he had ended up with a concussion that left the world spinning, and his head had been throbbing as he recovered from the leftover iron burns. While he had been able to keep himself stable enough to keep the Wraith’s attention on him, Edwin had needed to help him travel back home after the case had been finished. Charles doesn’t remember exactly what he did to get the Wraith’s attention, being left with some holes in his memory, but Edwin’s worry had been enough to tell him it was done impulsively. However, after that case, he remembered most of what happened after resting. Now, it was like a whole chunk of time had been fogged over.
Charles hoped it was just the sleep that was slowing his brain.
“Did we… have a case or something?” Charles asked, a frown deepening as any attempt to search his mind remained empty. Fucking sleep, aye. He thought he had missed it, but now it was a pain.
Edwin hesitated a bit. “We did.” Charles could see him carefully thinking his following words. It wasn’t unusual. He was the one who always thought before speaking, something Charles was still working on at times. However, Charles was pretty sure he had asked a simple question. Did the case go wrong? Sure, he seemed to have fallen asleep for the first time in decades, but that couldn’t have been too bad as long as Edwin was safe. “It involved recovering a book.”
Okay, that sounded familiar. The case of the lost book or something like that, the name is still pending. Charles’s gaze drifted to the desk across the room, a leather-bound book on its surface, cover worn and old. It didn’t look particularly unique compared to the others in Edwin’s collection. There had to be something unique about it. He squinted, trying to recall any details he could about it, but it was like swimming through molasses, and he couldn’t come up with an answer. “Why didn’t we return it to the client?”
“The client’s living. I presume it would be rude to disturb her in the middle of the night.”
Ah, that made sense. It was like how Crystal often reminded them they couldn’t barge in at all hours of the day. “Reckon, you’re right.” However, it also begged the question— “Where’s Niko and Crystal at, mate? If we had a case, wouldn’t they have gone?”
“Well, they had been busy with schoolwork when the case arose. So it was simply you and I that had gone. Though they were here earlier before their need for sleep caught up to them, I told them I would let them know when you awoke.” Edwin’s eye roamed to the window, and Charles followed his sight, seeing the darkness outside. “It is still rather late.”
“Right,” Charles responded absently.
“How are you feeling?” Edwin asked. His tone was soft, typical of his conversations with Charles, reserved only for him. He never tried to overthink about how Charles was the first person Edwin trusted after Hell. Or about how Charles melted anytime he had gotten him to smile or laugh following the attic. Yet, being able to pick up on that also meant he could tell Edwin also had a hint of something else in the question—caution, nervousness?
“I’m… better, I think,” he replied, voice trailing off. So, something happened during the case? He felt fine, not precisely brills, but normal. He didn’t feel any injuries. He just felt tired, which he hated the most. Well, almost as much as he hated to see Edwin worried, he could tell by the lines on his forehead he’d been stressing; even if he tried to hide it from Charles, thirty years together left a lot of opportunities to learn each other's ticks.
“That’s good.” Edwin resumed combing through the other’s hair. Maybe he thought Charles would ask him to stop. He didn’t. “Though I do believe you require more rest.”
“Nah, I’m pretty aces, mate. Besides, ghosts aren’t supposed to be sleeping anyway, yeah?” He tried to sound casual, but even to his ears, it sounded forced.
“This is an exception, I assume,” Edwin replied, lacking its usual conviction.
Charles simply hummed in response.
Even Edwin wasn’t sure about this—Charles, a ghost, needing sleep. Edwin always seemed to be sure about most things. Edwin usually had the answer for everything, especially when it came to the occult or cases. So, why—
“I won’t argue with you, Charles. I would appreciate it if you were honest with me. If not now, then later. Please.” Edwin’s voice became much softer. “I care for you dearly.”
The memory hit Charles unexpectedly, coming through the fog.
What the hell?
That was weird.
What had Charles done? He knew he hadn’t been the most cheery person on cases lately, and perhaps he had been a little distracted staring at Edwin… But he hadn’t argued with Edwin outright in months. Bickering didn’t count. And the Lighthouse Case was more of a breakdown than an actual argument.
The case had to have gone bad then. Charles still didn’t feel any injuries, and Edwin looked unharmed. He needed to know what happened to him. His head still seemed out of it so he couldn’t rely on it. And despite how much he hated Edwin being worried, especially when it was about him, he was the only reliable source for whatever happened.
Edwin’s mouth moved, and his face looked angry and annoyed. Charles could only make out a few words through the growing pain and increasing cold in his body. He hadn’t felt such cold in so long…
His chest tightened. “Edwin, what happened?” Charles asked, attempting to sit up. Suddenly, his position on Edwin’s lap felt like too much. Too suffocating.
“Charles, I truly believe you should rest,” Edwin remarked, his hand pressing gently on Charles' chest to stop his movement.
Charles's breath hitched. His suspicions were right. Something had happened—something really bad. Edwin wouldn’t be so insistent otherwise. He had to know. “Please, mate. At least tell me a bit.”
“Charles,” Edwin began in a more serious tone. “I think you should rest. I’ll even read the story we last left off on.”
It was an appealing offer. Charles wanted to finish that one, as they had just reached a huge twist in the case when other things came up. However, while he knew the offer came from nothing but kindness, a part of him felt uneasy about it. Sure, Charles often pushed himself in the field, but it typically wasn’t enough to warrant this much of Edwin’s worry. He felt overall OK. “C’mon Edwin. I could rest later. It isn’t like imma break if you tell me.” Edwin gave him an unhumored look. “Edwin, c’mon mate,” Charles attempted his best puppy dog eyes, as Crystal and Niko would call them.
Edwin sighed. “Fine. I will tell you the essence of the case, and you will rest, alright? For me?”
He nodded immediately. Charles was right when he said his smile (and eyes) were very convincing.
“There was a witch,” Edwin started, and Charles already hated where this was going. “And she had the book in her possession.”
“So I got my arse kicked by some naff witch?”
“Charles, please allow me to finish.”
“Sorry,” he mumbled.
“The book was in her basement, and she had anticipated us going to retrieve it, so she had precautions,” Edwin faltered slightly.
“And?”
“It included magic from the book. Spells on the mind. She cast it on you, and… you weren’t well after.” Oh. That didn’t sound good. “You were quite out of it, though I managed to stop her. Crystal and Niko assisted me in creating a cure when we returned to the office. So now, you need rest,” Edwin insisted.
“A spell?” Charles repeated, because of fucking course. “What kind of spell?”
“I truly believe we should discuss this after you rest.”
“ Edwin ,” he said more firmly.
The other boy sighed again, clearly torn. “From the looks of it, it was meant to cloud your mind and bring up past traumas so you could relive their pain.”
He was barely able to catch his own voice, leveling it, but it wavered and sounded far away, even to his own ears. “No, just shut up. I can’t focus; it’s too loud.”
He curled into himself, trying not to get hit in the head with the belt buckle, not again. He’s sorry, he’ll be good, please, dad, please.
“So, like what the Night Nurse was able to do. Bring up past shit?” Charles asked because that was the only comparison he had. Being forced to relive all that past stuff wasn’t the… best. Better him than Edwin, he supposed.
“I believe so,” Edwin confirmed softly. “But, the witch did it to feed off your pain, using it to gain more power for herself.”
It was so cold, and he felt like his brain could turn to slush at any moment. He was trembling, and he wanted it to stop.
His limbs felt so heavy, like they’d been filled with icy water. It feels like the lake water is filling his lungs again and again. he can’t breathe, his head is splitting, and he wants to die—
Can he be good? He’s always wanted to be good. That’s all he ever wanted.
“Well, no wonder I’m tired as hell,” he said, and Charles attempted to make it sound light and upbeat. Judging by Edwin’s look, he failed.
A laugh. She was laughing. “You didn’t know?” she said to someone. “He lo—”
“But, there’s more, isn’t there?” The words slipped out of Charles's mouth before he could stop them, his mind racing as the fog cleared slowly.
He was drowning. “Your boyfriend…keen on remembering you…”.
It was overwhelming.
“What?” Edwin blanched, expression faltering as he looked more concerned.
“You’re not telling me something. You’re leaving something out, yeah?” Charles pressed. His heart was pounding in his chest. He could see the worry deepening in the other’s eyes, but he couldn’t stop. “You’re hiding something. Edwin, just tell me.”
“Charles, please,” Edwin whispered, a plea. “Just rest.”
But Charles couldn’t let it go. Yes, he had been hurt, not in the typical way, but that was what came with the territory of being the brawn. There was more—something that Edwin believed would hurt him, right? “I could handle it,” Charles insisted. “I thought we weren’t going to keep things like this from each other?” Okay, maybe that was hypocritical of him. But Charles needed to know, especially if it was worrying Edwin. He didn’t need the stress.
“ Charles , not right now. We can discuss it later,” the other boy urged.
“My bad for wanting to know what the hell happened to me,” he muttered bitterly, ignoring Edwin’s pleas as he managed to push himself up, moving to sit beside Edwin instead of resting on his lap. The effort made his head swim momentarily, but he bit back the discomfort, refusing to show it. “It just feels like you think I’m going to break or something. I’m not made of glass, Edwin. I can handle whatever it is.”
“You know I do not think that, Charles. I merely believe some things are better left for when you aren’t still recovering from a witch’s spell.”
Charles sighed, trying to keep his frustration in check. He was being unfair. He hadn’t meant to accuse him of anything. God, he was shitty. “I know, mate. But you don’t need to protect me, alright, that’s my job. As long as nothing happens to you, everything is aces.” And he truly meant that. He reached out gently, brushing his fingers against Edwin’s. “Just tell me, I trust you.”
Edwin hesitated, his eyes searching Charles’s as if looking for something—maybe the right words, maybe the strength to say them. It was something he had seen many times in their first years together. “Fine,” Edwin relented. He dragged out his words, cautious and deliberate. “The witch… she revealed some things about you. Some feelings…”
Feelings? Charle’s mind raced immediately at the mention. What type of feelings? Like anger? It wouldn’t be surprising; he knew he had been having trouble keeping a lid on his anger lately. Yet. he was working on it; he always tried to ensure it never interfered with the outcome of a case. Is that what happened? If this is what this was about, if the witch had talked about his anger issues, bringing up their truth… well, that would be fucked.
He didn’t particularly want to discuss that anytime soon—not yet, anyway.
“Particularly… some feelings you may have towards me.”
Charles felt his veins turn to ice. “What?” he stared at Edwin, his heart pounding so loudly in his ears that it drowned out the world around him. Edwin kept talking, but Charles barely heard him.
“Charles,” Edwin continued. “The witch… she said you were in love with me. That you returned my feelings. Though if you do not want to discuss that, I understand—” Edwin’s words faded into the background entirely now, overridden by the deafening roar of blood rushing in Charles’s ears.
The witch. The bloody witch. She had—
He was drowning, but he could make out words in the waves. They were distant and frigid. He wished he could float away. “Your boyfriend…keen on remembering you…Protect… I love him… spend eternity in his arms… It’s so pathetic…”
She had… she told Edwin that…
It was getting hard to breathe.
“Charles?” Edwin's voice was soft, his touch gentle as he cupped Charles’s cheek, brushing away a tear that Charles hadn’t realized had fallen. When had he started crying? No, no. He couldn’t be crying now. Not in front of Edwin, not again. Not when something he wanted to keep to himself, just for a bit longer, just for a while more, was taken out of his hands. It was out of his control. Everything always was.
The witch, that damn witch, she fucking went and told him .
“I–I’m sorry,” Charles stammered, and he cursed himself for it. His voice cracked, and he couldn’t find the right words; they were tangled up and twisted. Edwin’s eyes widened, filled with emotions that made Charles’s heart ache even more—understanding, concern, love . “I should have told you. I didn’t want you to find out like this, not from her. I just… I didn’t want to hurt you. I didn’t want to make things worse.”
“Charles, what are you—”
“The witch ,” Charles spat, the word laced with venom. “She told you about that . About how I feel… And I’m so fucking sorry, Edwin. You weren’t supposed to know, especially not like that.” He took in a shaky breath. “I know it’s been months since you told me, and I waited so long to get my head on right. I know I’m an idiot. I waited, and now it’s all messed up.”
“Charles, wait—”
“No, just—just listen!” his voice was rising, desperate and frantic. And shit, he didn’t mean to yell. Fuck. But, before he knew it, more words were tumbling out of his mouth faster than he could think them through. “I didn’t want to hurt you, Edwin. I couldn’t. I can’t be like him. And I knew I couldn’t just jump into this without thinking, not with you. You’re too good for that. You’re too good for me. And I know—I know what love does to people. I saw what it did to my mum, and I—” his words caught in his throat momentarily. “I don’t want to put you through that. I don’t want to be the one who breaks you, who ruins everything. Because I will, Edwin, I know I will. I’m his son, and that means something, right? It has to. He never wanted me around, and maybe—maybe he knew. Maybe he saw a piece of me in him. And I—”
“Charles—”
“I don’t want you to see it, Edwin,” Charles rambled on, and he could hear how shaky it was, how his attempt to hold it together was failing miserably. “I don’t want you to see that side of me, the side that’s broken, fucked up and so bloody wrong. I can’t stand the thought of you leaving, of you seeing that and walking away. I couldn’t handle handle it. Because I—”
A sudden warmth on his lips cut him off.
As Edwin’s lips suddenly met his, Charles’s world came to a screeching halt. His mind, which he thought would probably turn to slush at the speed of his thoughts, went blank—like the static on an old television set, the kind his house had when he was a kid. He hadn’t lied when he said he’d miss kissing as a ghost. He’d kissed Crystal before, and it had been a cold, distant thing as he had been forced to drudge up memories of how a kiss should feel. It was all in his head. But this—this felt real. It was real.
For a moment, it was as if the entire world had narrowed to just the two of them. There was no room for anything else—no worries, no painful memories. Just Edwin Payne, his best mate of over thirty years, his partner in everything, his savior, the boy he loved with his entire being. Edwin was kissing him, and it was like a lifeline, a pull back from the painful edge he had undoubtedly almost crossed.
Charles could feel the warmth of Edwin’s body against his, the way Edwin leaned fully into him, and the way his hands cradled Charles’s face with such care, such tenderness as if Charles were something to be cherished. It took him a moment to get over the shock and realize this was truly happening. But when he did, he reacted instinctively, his hands finding their way to Edwin’s arms and shoulders, gripping them as if they were the only solid things in the world. Charles braced himself, giving in completely, deepening the kiss with all the love and longing he had been hiding away, which he only allowed himself to think of in passing.
He had dreamt of this moment, imagining it in stolen glances during cases while watching Edwin read or simply breathe beside him. The reality was far beyond anything he had ever dreamed of. It was exhilarating and so overwhelming that he wouldn’t mind disappearing into it. He cursed himself for having waited so long, for having deprived himself of this for so many years. Why had he been so scared?
When Edwin finally pulled back, it was as if the world had come rushing back in all at once, leaving Charles breathless. His hands were still gripping Edwin’s shoulders, grounding him, but his mind felt like a jumbled mess. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his head and think besides the thought of the other boy’s surprisingly fit build under his hands. “I… What?” he mumbled, dazed, the words feeling clumsy on his lips. Edwin kissed him. Edwin kissed him. “I—Edwin, I…”
“Stop,” Edwin said softly, his thumb brushing against Charles’s cheek, wiping away a stray tear. “Just… stop for a second, please?” He took in a breath, which Charles found amusing because he was always the one who was so adamant they didn’t even need it. “You are not going to hurt me because you, Charles Rowland, are and always will be the best person I know. You are the one that saved me from Hell, from an eternity of solitude. Just by existing, you have saved me more than you could ever know. You are not your father, Charles. That man could never measure up to the person you are.”
He wanted to believe him. He really did; he trusted Edwin so, so much, but the fear was still there. Couldn’t Edwin see that man was his father? His blood ran through Charles’s veins, even in death. It would do so for eternity, taunting him. Charles could never tear it out, scrub it away. He’s his dad’s son. “But, Edwin—”
“I love you,” Edwin interrupted again, unwavering and firm, leaving no room for doubt. “That has not changed since I first told you, and nothing the witch said will ever change that either.” His heart stuttered at those words. “I am sorry she took away the choice to tell me, Charles. You did not deserve such a thing. I knew you had wanted time, and I respected that. Even if, in the end, you did not love me the same way, I would have still stood by your side. How could I not? I could not fathom spending my afterlife with anyone else.”
Charles could feel the tears welling up again, but they weren’t born of sadness or fear this time. No, this was something else different—was this what it felt like to be overwhelmed with love? It was almost too much to bear, if he was being honest. Still, he needed Edwin to know. Even if the witch had done so and spilled his feelings and secrets, it didn’t mean it would change how Charles felt, especially about Edwin. He needed him to know and understand.
“You really are a proper romantic, y’know that?” Charles smiled at Edwin. “Not even thinking about leaving room for me.” He took in another shaky breath. “Reckon I do this properly then, yeah?”
“Charles, whatever do you mean,” Edwin replied, matter-of-factly, in a way that was oh so Edwin -like.
“Oi! You got to do a confession on the stairs of Hell. It is only proper if I try one.” Edwin started to try to defend himself before Charles stopped him. “I let you speak then, my turn now,” he said. It lacked any heat, only pure affection.
“Edwin, ever since I saw you in the attic with that lantern in your hands, I think a part of me has always liked you as more than just mates. I didn’t know it at the time, yeah? But you saved me that night,” Charles said, a slight grin tugging at his lips. “I was freezing and dying, but you stayed by my side. Then, after I stuck around, I thought that maybe I didn’t deserve this and didn’t deserve you. I kept telling myself that there was no way a boy like you would want to stay by my side all these years, but you did . I loved you so much for that, and it scared me.”
Charles hesitated, taking a deep breath before continuing. “I had seen what love did to my parents, and I couldn’t stand the thought of it happening to us. So, I pushed it down for so long, telling myself we’re just mates and that my love for you was just that. I made myself believe that. But seeing you with Monty and the Cat King brought the feelings up again. And when you confessed to me in Hell, I had to really think about it and realize that maybe the way I’ve felt toward you was different, that I didn’t just love you, that I was in love with you. It took me a while to admit it to myself, but the feeling I’ve had, looking at you and being around you, has always been different. Ever since I met you, it's been different.”
Charles moved his hands to Edwin’s face, their foreheads almost touching, their breaths mingling in the small space between them. “I love you too, Edwin Payne. I have always loved you. And I don’t want to push it down. I don’t want to forget it. Ever since that night, I knew I would follow you anywhere, and I want to continue spending forever doing just that.” He meant every word of it. Charles still never planned to be separated from him.
Charles paused, teasingly adding, “Also, for someone with Edwardian sensibilities, you really know how to kiss.” He chuckled softly. “Who would've thought I needed to spiral to get a proper snog?”
Edwin raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. Charles wanted to kiss him right there and then again. “I do not believe I would call that a ‘snog,’ Charles.”
“Well, we could always try again,” Charles replied with a grin. They had eternity, but Charles wasn’t keen on wasting another second.
“You are insufferable,” the other boy shot back, laced with absolute fondness.
“Hey, you’re the one who kissed me first.”
“I merely had no idea how else to reach you in that state.”
“Sure, mate. Any excuse to kiss me properly, yeah?” Charles could feel his grin widening.
Edwin rolled his eyes. “Now I am regretting it. And ‘mate’? Really?”
“Aw, I’ll workshop some better names, promise. But now, I believe a proper snogging is in order, love ,” Charles murmured, his voice lowering. He was sure Edwin opened his mouth to respond, but Charles didn’t give him the chance. He brushed his lips against Edwin’s, teasing, before ultimately going in fully for a proper kiss. No hesitation, no fear. Charles poured everything into the kiss, and Edwin responded in kind, his hands slipping down to Charles’s waist, pulling him closer until their bodies were pressed together, erasing any distance between them. They grew fervent with each passing second, Charles feeling more alive than he had ever felt in his afterlife.
As Charles' hands moved to Edwin’s back, Charles wasn’t entirely convinced he wouldn’t mess this up somehow. This wasn’t how he had expected his confession to go. Then again, he hadn’t planned to live the way he did or die the same way either. Everything, it seemed, had been out of his control.
He could hear Edwin's breath hitch as Charles' lips left his, trailing kisses down his jaw and neck.
But none of that mattered now. What mattered was this—living, and then Edwin. His life, and then the moment he met Edwin in that dark attic, a light in hand, a warmth he hadn’t known he needed. That truth eclipsed all else, even if it had taken time to grasp it fully.
A light in the dark—a love that made eternity a gift.
Charles knew, with absolute certainty, that he would love Edwin for all of it, Hell or Heaven be damned.
End.