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How could anyone sleep soundly? The other trinkets slept like they didn’t have a care in the world. Maybe they were completely brainwashed, but Charles was a different matter.
He drifted off for hour-long increments at best—and only from sheer exhaustion. The rest of the time, he was wide awake, mind racing with the possibilities of sinister motives.
Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. Slowly, he got out of bed and shuffled toward the door. It had been three nights since Will saved him from the beer can and brought him home. This was the first night that his chills and fever had lessened enough for him to venture out.
He was extra quiet as he went past Ramona’s bed. She was the staunchest supporter of Will. If she saw Charles sneaking around, she’d know immediately that he was trying to map out an escape. Maybe she’d alert Will. Maybe then the act would be dropped.
Or maybe nothing would happen at all.
Charles wanted to trust Will—he really did. But he needed some assurance that he wasn’t as trapped as he felt. Getting out of the hand-crafted trinket house was a good start.
A small LED light is attached to the wall near the entrance. Thankfully, the hinges on the rounded door didn’t squeak. Charles braced himself, then stepped out onto the bartop counter that divided the living room and kitchen. He had seen the massive house only once, when Will took him inside and brought him out of his pocket. After Charles had gone into the trinket house, he hadn’t come out again until now.
Once he pushed the door closed behind him, it was darker than ever.
An instinctive fear rooted through him as he gazed at the darkness. His surroundings seemed to go on forever, the shadows masking the true size of it all.
His eyes gradually adjusted, though it did little to calm his nerves. Whether he could see or not didn’t change the fact that the foreign landscape around him is inaccessible. Still, he was determined to search for some means of escape that would give him peace of mind.
He didn’t plan on making a run for it tonight. He just needed to know that there was a way out. Just in case.
After walking up and down along the bartop, he found that he could safely reach the kitchen counter with the help of some spice jars right below him. His vantage point was slightly lower, but it meant one more area he could explore for passages.
As he wandered past a cutting board, he shivered and wished he’d brought a blanket to keep around his shoulders. The lasting effects of sitting in that shallow puddle of beer were more alarming than he could have imagined. It had taken him an entire day to stop trembling.
He didn’t notice the sink until he fell into it. A painful metallic thud rattled around him. He bit back a shout and held perfectly still, terrified of accidentally slipping too close to the drain. He breathed heavily and cursed himself for not paying better attention.
“Great,” he muttered.
Weak in the knees, he got to his feet and braced his hand on the stainless steel wall to ensure that he stayed near it. He looked straight up, able to make out the top of the sink above him. There was absolutely no way he could reach it, and the walls were perfectly smooth with nothing to climb on.
He was trapped.
There was nothing that could be done about it—he needed to call for help. But he couldn’t bring himself to shout or scream. The minutes ticked by as he mustered up the nerve. The other trinkets would hear him first. And even if they did, what could they do to help besides call for Will?
Sighing heavily, Charles sank to a seat and kneaded his temples. This was more than embarrassing—it was terrifying. In a matter of seconds, he had managed to strip himself of what little agency he had.
And then, even the decision of whether or not to call for help didn’t matter anymore.
A distant creak rang out—the giant springs of a bed shifting. Heavy footsteps followed closely after, making their way down the hall.
The kitchen light flipped on, momentarily blinding Charles. He brought his arm in front of his eyes and held his breath as he heard the sounds of Will making his way around the kitchen.
The footsteps came closer and closer until Will was looming right over the sink with a kettle in hand.
Charles locked eyes with him for only a moment, too humiliated to do anything except look down at the metallic floor of the sink. He flinched at the sound of Will swiftly setting the kettle aside.
“Charles?” Will whispered.
Breath sharpening, Charles hugged his arms. Will had to know that he was looking for an escape. Why else would he be sneaking around in the dark when everything he needed was right in the trinket house?
“Are you hurt?”
Shadows darkened. Charles looked up to see a colossal hand filling his vision. Gasping, Charles lurched away and put his back against a steel corner. There was no point. Nowhere to go. There was no shutting off the instinct to try to get away, though.
Will drew his hand back slightly, fingers curling in like an assurance that he didn’t plan to snatch up Charles. Their gazes stayed silently locked for several seconds. Somehow, Will’s stare managed to be distant and overwhelming all at once.
“Are you hurt?” Will repeated.
The firm tone finally inspired Charles to shake his head. With a sinking heart, he accepted that he would get nowhere without Will’s help. He was entirely reliant upon his mercy, just like when he was stuck in the beer can.
“You’re shivering.” Will eyed him sadly. His hand inched closer again and made Charles go rigid. “Can I touch you? Please, Charles. I want to help you.”
When Charles couldn’t make himself answer, Will brought his hand closer nonetheless. Instead of grabbing, he laid his palm out. For a moment, Charles could only gape. Was this some kind of power trip—offering a choice that wasn’t really a choice? It was better than simply scooping him up, he supposed.
Steeling himself, Charles pried himself away from the wall and stepped forward onto Will’s hand. His skin was achingly warm. Charles’ nerves weren’t sure whether to melt into relief or seize up at the helplessness of his perch.
When Will lifted him out of the sink, Charles expected to be placed back in front of the trinket house and prodded back inside. Instead, Will considered him for a few seconds before whisking him to the other side of the kitchen. Charles flinched as the hand lowered to the counter, not far from the stove.
“W-what are you doing?” Charles said.
“I couldn’t sleep.” Will returned to the sink and picked up the kettle. “I got up to make tea. Would you like some?”
Not wanting to offend, Charles nodded immediately. After setting the kettle on the stove to heat up, Will opened one of the upper cabinets. It was filled with jars and bottles of loose-leaf tea. He looked from the bottles to Charles several times, his expression one of deep concentration. Finally, he grabbed a container.
The silence between them was anything but relaxing in Charles’ mind. He watched Will’s every move as he grabbed a mug and a steeper to measure out the dried leaves. Charles found himself taking several steps back each time that Will made any vague motion in his general direction.
After a while, there was nothing to do but wait for the tea to steep. Now, there wasn’t even any movement to break up the silence.
“You’re not mad?” Charles finally blurted.
Will cocked his head. “About what?”
“I… I was out. Walking around.”
The confusion on Will’s face was short-lived, replaced with gloom. He sighed. “You still think you’re a prisoner.”
He said it so matter-of-factly, Charles couldn’t help but scoff. “Well… Can you blame me? It’s hard not to feel trapped when there’s no way to get to the floor. No way to get anywhere except the kitchen counter.”
Silence again, and no movement on Will’s part. He frowned, not quite looking at Charles. All the same, that unreadable expression made Charles wish he’d kept his mouth shut.
Then Will nodded. “That’s a good point. I’ll see what I can do. Some kind of system to make everything feel within reach. Maybe a stairway that leads down into the lower cabinets? Something that’ll keep you all safe, though, Nothing that leads right to the middle of the floor.” He went quiet, zoning out into his plans for nearly a full minute. His eyes snapped suddenly to Charles, making him flinch. “What do you think?”
“I… Yeah. Yeah, that sounds great.”
Will stared for a beat longer, then busied himself by using a spoon to pour out a position of his tea for Charles into a tiny cup. “You’re shaking again,” he said, softer. “I’m sorry. I know I… I’m trying not to be scary. Sorry. You can go back inside if you’d rather not be… here.” Around me, his eyes said.
“No, it’s not—it’s not that,” Charles said hurriedly. It was certainly part of it, though he tried to stuff it down. “I’m still recovering. Chills and all that, you know.”
“Maybe this can help, then.” Will’s gaze drifted back down to the tea. He set the little cup in front of Charles, then seemed unsure what to do with himself for several moments.
After Charles inched forward and grabbed the cup, Will took a step closer and offered his hand again. It wasn’t an invitation to climb on—instead, he rested his palm sideways near Charles, like a warm wall to lean against. Will said nothing, only giving Charles a gentle, imploring look to trust him.
It could still be a trick to win him over, Charles thought. But there was an exhausted quality to Will’s actions that didn’t seem possible to fake. Had all the other trinkets been as terrified as him? Had Ramona? Whatever the case, Will didn’t seem at all shocked that Charles didn’t trust him. He appeared weary—something that shouldn’t have been true for someone so impossibly towering.
Holding tightly to his cup, Charles stepped closer to Will’s hand. This time, he was prepared for Will's body heat, and he didn’t resist it. He lowered himself to a seat and leaned his side against Will’s palm. For a second, he forgot to breathe. There was tension in Will’s hand as though he was just as nervous. But as the warmth fully settled in, Will couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief. This was better than any blanket had to offer.
“Thank you,” Charles murmured. His brief glance upward revealed that Will was observing him expectantly.
“Can you be honest if you want a different flavor of tea?” Will asked reverently.
Charles almost laughed. After having nothing but alcohol for his span as a trinket, the thought of refusing anything else was insane. Still, he nodded his assurance.
He brought the tea to his lips and took a sip. He felt Will watching raptly for his reaction. There was no need to fake positivity out of politeness—the tea was delicious. It was just the right temperature, with a hint of apple and honey that made Charles shut his eyes blissfully for a second. He swore he felt Will’s hand relax at his side, gentle fingers curling closer reflexively.
When he opened his eyes, he saw a faint smile on Will’s face overhead. The first he’d seen from him.