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Edwin Payne does not believe in fate. At its best, fate is a gross misunderstanding of the power of coincidence and at its worst, fate is the theft of humankind's only true and unique virtue i.e. free will.
However. If Edwin were to make a single exception, he would consider that perhaps meeting Charles was a half-step above coincidence. For Edwin to stumble upon someone like Charles in a moment when they could not just perceive one another, but find in one another an answer to a question they had not yet asked? Surely coincidence alone was not enough to explain that.
Which is to say that Edwin has always believed, perhaps foolishly, that the only thing that could separate the two of them might be the cold light of Death herself.
Now Edwin has to reconsider, seeing as he might actually sever Charles' tether to this mortal world solely through the power of his own incandescent fury.
"What," he says, hearing the ice in his own voice. "What are you doing?"
And Charles just smiles up at him. It's his best smile - the one that wrinkles up his eyes and makes his head shake a little like he's holding in laughter. The one that says 'I have a joke we can share' and 'I am so helplessly happy I cannot remain still' and 'you will be so angry but I am not afraid.'
"Just hold on, yeah?" Charles says, digging in the pockets of his coat.
"Absolutely not," Edwin hisses. "Stand up immediately."
Charles is, right this instant, knelt in two inches of icy sludge. His hand is still smoking from the iron bars on the window they have only just jumped from. They are, right now, in this very second, still fleeing from their client-turned-necromancer, as well as Death who, now that the warding sigil is cracked, will no doubt be claiming him imminently.
They have spent the last 20 hours locked up in a prison with a person seeking to destroy them, and here is Charles kneeling at Edwin's feet, his collar askew, his chest heaving from the run through the castle. He is covered in ice and mud - it is clinging to his coat, his hair, his eyelashes. He is the most gorgeous and infuriating thing in Edwin's existence.
He finally finds what he's looking for in the pocket of his coat and pulls out a box Edwin has never seen before, but knows exactly what it holds.
"Edwin Payne," Charles says, and Edwin is doomed. He is damned. Not even his anger can save him. The stars are glinting in Charles' eyes and the snow is shining in his hair and Edwin might die a second time in this moment.
"Mate, you alright?" Charles asks, because he's perceptive and kind and lovely and terrible.
Edwin shakes his head mutely. "You cannot do this to me," he whispers.
Charles takes his hand in his. "I don't have to ask if you don't want me to," he says, and he sounds so unsure, when he should know. He should know that he--his kindness, his joy, his love--is the source of every good thing in Edwin's existence.
Fate may have brought them together but it was Charles Rowland who stayed. It was Charles Rowland's free will that ended Edwin's solitude. It was Charles Rowland who wanted to help their first client, who said they should go into business, who hand-lettered the first signs for the agency, who gave Edwin a purpose that wasn't run, hide, plan. It is intolerable that he not know this.
"The problem," Edwin croaks out, "Is that if you ask, I will say yes."
Charles tilts his head. "That's the opposite of a problem, mate."
"No! It isn't, Charles," Edwin can feel the hook of Despair in it, but he keeps going. "You still have an afterlife. It's out there, waiting for you if you need it. And I know you, if we do this you'll burn that bridge forever and I cannot allow you to do that."
He's squeezing his eyes shut against it, the tears and the fear, and he hears Charles moving but doesn't realize what he's doing until he's wrapped in an embrace.
"You," Charles says, and there's actual laughter in his voice, the horrid boy. "Are so stupid."
Edwin makes an affronted noise and tries to extricate himself, but Charles keeps his hands on his shoulders. And he's smiling. The 'Edwin you idiot' smile of course.
"Mate, there is no bridge left to burn. It's ashes. Charcoal. It went up in smoke round about the first time I saw you. I knew you for six hours and loved you too much to leave and you think twenty years with you left me in any doubt? It's been forever since day one, Eds."
Edwin looks in his eyes, this boy who loves him, who he is allowed to love. It doesn't seem fair, deserved. But Edwin has deserved so little of what has happened in his life, for good or ill. Maybe this is something he can have.
"I love you," Edwin says, and it feels inadequate, but Charles grins regardless.
"Enough to marry me?"
"Til Death do us part?" Edwin says, a little wry.
"Naw, mate," Charles smiles, pulling out the ring. "Not even Death."