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Edwin knew it was going to be a bad day from the very start.
The previous evening they had closed the case of a rather touchy-feely ghost, and upon presenting him his freshly un-cursed pendant, he had expressed his gratitude with a hug that Edwin was entirely unprepared for. It lasted barely a few seconds, but it was enough to make him feel like his skin was crawling, or as though his soul was trying desperately to escape from his form.
He didn’t say anything, because the client was clearly emotional, and he did not want to be insensitive. Charles seemed to notice how he stiffened at the touch, knowing his general dislike towards physical contact, but didn’t say anything at Edwin’s slight head shake.
He had hoped that a quiet night of reading in the office would calm him down, and help quiet the buzzing under his skin. It did not work out quite like he had hoped.
Instead of allowing him to read in peace, it seemed that the universe was conspiring to interrupt him at every turn. Charles wanted to check out a new magic shop that opened recently on Fleet Street, Niko wanted to ask him some questions about supernatural phenomena she’s been learning about, and the Night Nurse just had to complain to him about their system of organizing cases, and it simply couldn’t wait any longer.
Normally, Edwin would be happy to converse or to argue or to adventure with his compatriots, but his skin has been crawling, and it seemed every time someone interrupted his reading the vibrations reached a higher pitch. He knew he snapped at them a bit harsher than usual, but he desperately needed to be alone, without voices grating on his nerves.
He gave up on the office and headed to the roof, hoping that it would be quieter, and the cool night air would comfort him even if he can’t truly feel it.
It didn’t help. London had gotten louder over the years, gained more nightlife, and what was usually a pleasant hum of activity became a maelstrom of noise assaulting his ears, painfully cutting through his thoughts until he couldn’t even focus enough to read his book. It hurt in an almost physical way, not necessarily too loud but certainly too much, grating on his mind and his nonexistent nerves.
Edwin briefly entertained the idea of mirror-hopping somewhere quiet, but he didn’t want to worry his friends by disappearing, and the thought of having to face them and force words out of his mouth to explain where he would be going almost made him sick.
Instead, he walked over to the correct section of the roof and carefully phased through the floor to land within the closet, taking refuge in the dark and relative quiet. He cannot read without turning on the light, but even that seemed too much, so he simply curled his knees to his chest and waited, measuring unnecessary breaths in an effort to calm down.
Sitting in the dark, reduced to that pathetic state and forced to wait to be able to function again, Edwin found himself suddenly angry. As irrational and unreasonable as he knew it to be, he decided in that moment that he hated the client. He slowly clenched and unclenched his fists, squeezing one hand with the other, anything to relieve his exhausted nerves and the consuming fire in his chest. He hated those that couldn’t respect boundaries, those that uncaringly initiated touch without thought or consent.
He hated himself for allowing it to happen, and wished that he had said something, pushed the client away or admonished him or done anything to inform him that such behavior was unacceptable. He hated that he allowed himself to be passive, accepting the hurt others inflicted because he was too weak to stand up for himself.
He knew it wasn’t the client’s fault. He knew it wasn’t anyone’s fault for not knowing that he couldn’t stomach touch like any normal person because of the years of torment he’d endured in hell. No one had any way of knowing that it would affect him like this, and he’s certain that the client wouldn’t have hugged Edwin if he knew the strife it would cause.
None of this reasoning abated his anger. He was furious because he was, like so many other times in his life and afterlife, helpless. He considered screaming or punching the wall, or any manner of silly, juvenile things, to vent his vexation. Edwin ultimately dismissed those ideas, not wanting anyone to find him like this, and despising the idea of showing such weakness even if only to himself. He could handle a hug. He could pull himself together and get over it.
While these episodes had affected him even when he was alive, Edwin had always despised the weakness they inflicted upon him, not understanding why he often seemed incapable of facing the normal everyday world. They had become somewhat less frequent as a ghost, likely due to the lack of touch and taste and smell, reducing the senses that could become overwhelmed, yet they had not ceased entirely. The only thing that ever seemed to help was avoiding all the sensations that caused such pain, though he felt rather pathetic for hiding from his troubles.
He sat in the dark closet, with only quiet, muffled sounds slipping through, and hoped that Charles would not come looking for him until he was ready to face the world again himself.
Of course he could not be so lucky.
Around half an hour later, he heard Charles walk into the office again, calling his name.
Edwin sighed and grit his teeth against the sound, which, however muffled, grated on his ears. He stood up, turned on the light, and opened the door.
“Hello Charles. Is there some matter you would like me to attend to?” Edwin asked as he managed to tamp down the wince that accompanied forcing himself to speak.
Charles turned to look at him, having been facing the desk as he cast about the office. “Oh there you are mate! What were you doing in the closet? We’ve just got a new case, a banshee that won’t move on from some house even though the person’s died already. The spirit whose death the banshee announced said she feels like she can’t move on until the banshee has. Kinda sweet, innit?”
Edwin attempted to look pleased or at least neutral upon hearing of the case, rather than letting his face show just how desperately he wanted absolutely nothing to do with it. “Can she pay? And did she give any idea what may be holding the banshee in place? It would be optimal to handle this matter quickly.”
“Yeah, she said she had a decent inheritance and would be happy to pay. No clues on the banshee front, though,” Charles said, not noticing Edwin’s more brusque tone than normal, and having already forgotten the oddity of him having been inside the closet.
Edwin nodded, hoping to speak as little as possible without arousing suspicion, and went to the bookshelves to find a few volumes concerning banshees that could be of use.
He made sure Charles wasn’t looking before squeezing his hands together again, hoping to relieve the mounting tension of sounds and speech and light that he could hardly stand.
Charles suggested leaving Crystal behind to avoid the danger of the banshee’s cry inciting her death and Edwin nodded again, grateful that Charles had spoken it so he didn’t have to.
Once at the house that supposedly contained the creature, the two stepped cautiously inside with Charles leading the way. The plan was to search for whatever may be affecting the banshee, and talk with it civilly if possible.
Edwin had a somewhat better hold on his overstimulated senses as he focused on the case and paid attention to every small detail of the house for the case. His discomfort was ever present, humming in the back of his mind, but having something else to think about allowed him to function relatively well despite it.
Their plan failed quickly.
Nothing bothered them as they poked around the house for the first couple of minutes, until they came to the kitchen. There, centered in a glass display case, was a tress of blonde hair centered in a circle of runes.
“This may be what’s holding both the spirit and the banshee here. We need to break the binding circle,” Edwin said as he stepped closer to the case.
Before he could take another step, a translucent figure materialized between him and the cabinet. Clearly the banshee, it was wearing an overcoat and had long flowing hair, though it seemed to be unable to become fully corporeal.
“Ah, hello. We are investigating your current circumstances. Perhaps you-”
Before Edwin could get anything more out, the banshee opened its mouth and began to wail.
It began at a normal, human volume for a scream, though even that was acutely painful to Edwin, who had been on edge and oversensitive since the previous night. It was ear-piercing and awful, but they were on a case, and there might be information to be observed, so he could not allow it to get to him.
It crescendoed quickly, and with it, Edwin’s pain surged.
As the banshee’s wail reached a fever pitch, every wall in Edwin’s mind crumbled. Well beyond the physical pain of the sheer volume of the sound, every moment of discomfort and pain that he had done his best to block out rushed in as well.
There was nothing but noise in his mind as he dropped to his knees and clasped his hands over his ears. It did nothing to help.
Charles watched as Edwin’s face morphed from discomfort and shock through to utter agony within the span of only a few seconds. Sure, the banshee’s cry hurt, but Charles knew it couldn’t do any physical damage, and it wasn’t completely debilitating, so it terrified him when Edwin’s knees gave out under him and he dropped to the floor.
Before they could go any longer like that, Charles grabbed Edwin and dragged him through the mirror in the hallway they had just come from, transporting them back to the office.
Edwin didn’t get any better even when they were away from the noise. His hands were still pressed tightly over his ears, and he rocked back and forth sharply where he had landed on the floor.
Despite everything he knew to the contrary, it made Charles worried that the banshee had done real damage, given how much pain Edwin must be in to be so vulnerable. Charles dropped down gently to the floor in front of him, speaking softly. “Hey, mate. It’s ok. You’re ok, yeah? We can deal with the banshee later, right now I just need to know you’re not hurt.”
Not much was filtering through to Edwin’s mind, but he knew he wasn’t safe. Everything hurt and his skin was crawling and he couldn’t even stand up, much less defend himself against any possible threat.
Then Charles was there. The pain didn’t lessen, but his voice speaking gently was enough to tell Edwin that he was safe. He also thought distantly that Charles would never see him the same after witnessing him in such a pathetic state, but it took a back seat to the flood of his senses. He latched on to Charles’ voice, and after a moment it began to resemble words.
“-ust give me something please? So I know you’re ok? You’re really scaring me here, Edwin.”
The thought of speaking was so grotesque it was almost funny, but the panic beginning to lace Charles’ voice dispelled any humor. Edwin pressed his lips together to dispel any notion of trying to make himself speak, knowing that it was out of his reach. He nodded his head a few times to signal to Charles that he was alright.
“Oh thank god.” Charles sank back a bit, sitting on his feet. Edwin was still rocking back and forth, though somewhat gentler than before. “Can you give me something more to work with? What’s wrong, Eds? How can I help?” Charles asked, still speaking softly.
Edwin just shook his head, unsure of how to communicate to Charles that he couldn’t speak, could barely stand existing.
Charles wasn’t quite clear on what had happened or what was wrong necessarily, but he knew he needed to calm Edwin down. That was largely uncharted territory for him, but he acted on instinct, hoping that he wouldn’t make anything worse.
“That’s alright mate, you don’t have to say anything. I’m going to touch you though, if that’s alright? I just want to get us off the floor, yeah?” Charles said, waiting for Edwin’s nod before slowly embracing him, wrapping an arm behind his shoulders and under his knees, and lifting him off the ground.
Edwin relaxed into the pressure, hesitantly letting his hands fall from his ears and burying his face in Charles’ shirt instead. Charles ignored the flare of warmth in his chest at that, instead walking to the desk, where he bent to reach for the lamp cord. At Edwin’s wince he forwent it, navigating only by the weak moonlight filtering through the office’s window. He walked to the couch and set Edwin down in the middle.
As Charles pulled away, Edwin’s hand shot out to grasp his wrist. Charles smiled at the fact that Edwin wanted him close, and laced their fingers together to give Edwin a reassuring squeeze. “I’ll be back in just a minute mate, I’m not going anywhere. You’re still safe, I’ve got you, I just wanted to grab something more comfortable to wear and a blanket.”
With that he walked into the adjoining room, finding a soft jumper for Edwin and shucking his own coat to be left in his polo shirt. While he knew Edwin could alter his outfit or appearance at will, it could be disconcerting and require focus, and it was easier and more comfortable to change clothes like a living person would.
On his way back to Edwin he also grabbed a copy of Sherlock Holmes from the office shelves, hoping it would help calm him down.
Charles found Edwin in the exact spot he had left him, though he looked somewhat more present and had begun fidgeting with his hands, clearly still upset somehow. He looked up at Charles’ approach, and some of the tension seeped out of him.
“I got you this,” Charles said, holding up the jumper, “should be more comfortable, yeah? We’ll just take it easy for a bit. Crystal should be asleep anyway, we don’t need to talk to anyone or do anything until morning. And there will be no one but me to see you in such a horrifying state of undress as to not be wearing your bowtie,” he teased, a soft smile on his face.
Edwin said nothing but he looked more at ease, and Charles took that as his acquiescence. He slowly pulled Edwin’s coat and bowtie off, pausing occasionally to check Edwin’s face and make sure he was still okay with the touch. Then he kicked his own shoes off and knelt down to pull Edwin’s off too, before pulling the jumper over Edwin’s head and letting him push his own arms through the sleeves.
With nothing really left to do Charles found himself feeling somewhat unsure again. Edwin seemed more comfortable, but there was a thread of exhaustion and discomfort about him that lingered. Not to mention he hadn’t made a sound since being screamed at by the banshee, and that ate at Charles as well. He was used to taking action. He loved being able to protect and help Edwin, but he was used to protecting him from physical threats, throwing himself at an opponent or finding something in his bag to solve a problem, and none of that could help him against whatever was going on in Edwin’s head.
Before he could start doing something silly like pacing or wringing his hands, Charles’ focus was brought back by Edwin’s hand on his wrist again, gently pulling him closer. Charles grinned at the open affection and touch, glad that Edwin felt safe enough with him to be comfortable touching as opposed to his usual aversion.
He went easily, sitting next to Edwin and lacing their fingers together again to hold his hand. Charles wrapped his free arm around the front of Edwin’s shoulders and pulled him down onto his chest, turning as he did to lean back against the armrest so they would both be laying down fully. He tangled his legs with Edwin’s and squeezed him closer as he nestled back into Charles’ embrace.
He had set the blanket and book on the floor next to the couch, and untangled their fingers to reach down and grab them, throwing the blanket over the both of them and resting the book on Edwin’s chest.
Charles opened the book with one hand, Edwin’s other hand coming up to hold the other side, and Charles began to read quietly.
“‘My dear fellow.’ said Sherlock Holmes, as we sat on either side of the fire in his lodgings at Baker Street, ‘life is infinitely stranger than anything which the mind of man could invent. We would not…’”
And there, comfortable and warmed not necessarily in a physical way, but in the only way that mattered, by Charles’ easy affection and soothing voice, Edwin was able to relax. The tension of the past day drained out of him in the quiet and dark office, the place he had come to think of as his home, and in Charles’ embrace.
They stayed like that all through the night, Charles reading softly and holding Edwin close. Though ghosts cannot sleep, Edwin thought that he felt the most peaceful he had in a long time, and he rested easily.
When the light of dawn began to filter through the window, Charles set down the book and took hold of Edwin’s hand again, squeezing it softly before asking, “Are you feeling better now mate? Or should I keep reading?”
Edwin smiled at his thoughtfulness and found that his voice had returned when he went to answer, knowing that it was Charles’ soothing and steady presence through the night that had calmed his senses enough to speak again.
He thought for a moment, knowing that while he could talk it would feel raw and take more thought than it should at first. “I am well now, Charles. Thank you.” The words were tender, his voice more open than he usually allowed it to be. He added, softer, “Though I should like to stay here until we have other matters to attend to.”
Charles only smiled, set down the book, and wrapped his other arm around Edwin to hug him properly to his chest.
Soon, they would have to face the day. Soon, they would have to unravel themselves from one another and get up. Soon, they would have to think about the case, and the banshee, and explain to Crystal what had happened, and figure out what they would do about the whole thing. Edwin would have to tell Charles what had happened, and thank him for what he had done.
None of those things were bad or unpleasant necessarily, and while talking about his vulnerabilities never came easy to Edwin, he found himself looking forward to being able to share this part of himself with Charles, now that he knew the extent of the care and acceptance he would be shown.
But for now they could bask in the peace, the easy companionship, the love they shared. And what a beautiful thing to watch the dawn rise in the arms of his love, safe and calm, and to be able to stave off the worry and enjoy the morning.