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“You love him, don’t you?”
Charles stopped in his tracks, absentmindedly fiddling with the ring in his pocket. Pretending not to immediately know who his father spoke of, even though his heart stopped in his chest, he replied with a hoarse, “Who?”
“Erik. The other lighthouse keeper.”
Wondering, worrying if their love was so obvious, Charles bit down the firm, indignant no on the tip of his tongue and merely nodded. Come what may, he refused to lie about it. He couldn’t lie about it. Erik deserved more than that.
“How long?”
“Since the war,” Charles managed, awed that his father was so scarily calm about it. “That was when we met.”
“Tell me: how did you, a British officer, become acquainted with a German?”
Oh, so that was his only concern. It didn’t matter that Charles was hopelessly in love with a man, it was that Erik was German. Odd, Charles thought, how it always came back to that.
“I…” Charles faltered. This was a private story. One he knew very well, one he had relived over and over again, one he had no desire to retell. Still, he swallowed his unease and continued, “I spared Erik’s life.”
His father laughed at that, and Charles knew immediately that this was turning into a humiliation. He was a fool for expecting anything more. “And why would you do that, exactly?”
Charles snapped, stopping where he stood. The wind, blown in by the sea, whipped up his hair, and he was strengthened by the familiarity of it. “You know damn well why I didn’t kill him the moment I caught sight of his uniform. Erik was a man trying to survive. I had absolutely no reason to kill him.”
“You’re telling me you didn’t feel threatened by a man who has been trained to kill you?” His father’s ire, much like Charles’, sparked quickly and burned long.
“No, I didn’t! What does it matter, anyways? You clearly don’t care about me to begin with, so how does the fact that I’m in love with a man I was supposed to kill make any goddamn difference?”
Quiet. Charles’ hands were clenched into fists and he was shaking – with what, he wasn’t sure. A mix of rage and fear – fear that he would lose his post at Janus, that he’d just ruined not only his life, but Erik’s too. His father said nothing. He was expressionless, and that made everything so much worse.
“I can’t have a disgrace like you under my roof,” his father stated, coldly. His finger poked into Charles’ chest, sharply. “You can go back to your German lover and your island and stay there.”
He walked away, leaving Charles with a terrible hollowness in his chest.
Without thinking, he slipped Erik’s ring back onto his finger, worrying at it, making sure it was there. He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, alone, listening to the low whistle of the wind and the distant crash of waves on the beach, but it was dark when he finally found the presence of mind to walk home.
No one spared Charles even half a glance as he stepped in out of the rain – not his mother, not his father, not Raven or her fiancé, visiting from New York – it was complete, total silence. Charles, heart twisting in his chest, dashed upstairs and packed what little he’d brought, quickly, and left.
-
“Charles? What are you doing here? I thought you didn’t get back until Friday –”
Gently, ever so gently, Erik took Charles by the shoulders, drawing his gaze. To get away from Tom and Em’s curious, worried gazes, Erik led him out into the garden.
“What happened?”
“My parents disowned me.” Quick, one word after another, no slight pauses in between. A rush of emotion.
Erik was baffled. “What –”
“My dad figured us out. And – he called me a disgrace, Erik. Of all things to call your own son, a disgrace –”
Charles stopped, abruptly, and tried blinking away tears. Erik pulled him close, let him cry into his shoulder as he rocked them gently side to side, murmuring words of comfort.
Eventually, Charles pulled away, and Erik took his hand, identical rings catching the sunlight. “Do you remember my vows?” Exchanged on a stormy night on Janus, in between laughter and smiles. Erik had said them in German, first, having learned that Charles loved the way he could make a language of harsh sounds poetic.
Charles nodded, rubbing a hand across his face. “Of course.”
“I promised you sorrow and I promised you joy. And I promised that no matter what happened, we would get through it together. I don’t know if I’ll ever be enough, but I’m here.”
A smile – Erik had eased from Charles a smile, soft as it was. Charles’ gaze, impossibly blue, jumped from the ground to the front of Erik’s shirt, damp from where he’d cried. He laughed, pushing his hair back. “Sorry about that.”
“Oh, don’t worry about it. It’ll dry.”
Charles took the time to explain what had happened to Tom and Em, who cursed Charles’ family vehemently.
“How could they do such a thing?” Em shook her head, appalled. “Insensitive. It’s monstrous.”
“You might not have a proper family, Charles,” Tom said, a little while later, “but you have us.”
Erik studied Charles’ smile, just as lighthearted and easy here as it was on Janus. It hurt Erik immeasurably to witness Charles’ heartbreak and know he was the cause of it, but maybe, he thought, just maybe, they would be alright.