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In the aftermath of Port Townsend, Charles realized he had a lot to think about, and absolutely no idea where to start. Luckily, he did have some really quite excellent friends, who were an awful lot better at this sort of thing than he himself was. Particularly Niko, as it turns out.
His usual outlet for frustrated rants was precisely the person he would be ranting in relation to, so that was probably not the best route. He had also decided against approaching Crystal with his dilemma, in light of their own emotionally complex developments. Besides, Niko really was the expert on the subject anyway.
When he approached her, she did a remarkably good job of keeping the excited squeals clearly threatening to burst forth to herself. Instead, she smiled sympathetically, saying “Yeah, that sounds pretty tricky. Do you want help, or should I just listen?” So he explained as best he could, which admittedly wasn't very well, but she seemed to understand regardless. He welcomed any ideas or input she had, having miraculously recognized his own hopelessness.
“Well, when I'm having trouble with my emotions, I like to get out some art supplies and just see what happens. Do you wanna try that?” She said. “I dunno, I've never really been much good at artsy stuff. But, I guess it's worth a shot, right?” He replied. Judging by her resulting delighted grin and gentle pink flush, that was the correct answer.
Soon enough, he found himself presented, or perhaps surrounded would be the better word, with more art supplies than he had ever seen in one place before. “So, where do you wanna start?” She asked, clasping her hands together under her chin. “Uh…” he replied, intelligently. “That's okay! You don't have to know already, we can figure this out together too. We'll just do a bit of each until we find one that you like!” She said, sweeping an arm dramatically across the floor to clear a space between them.
Several hours later, Charles was getting frustrated. Colored pencils were fine, but not his thing. Oil pastels were too fancy-crayon-y for his tastes. Acrylic paints were just… no thanks. Pottery only made him want to squish the clay repeatedly, so not much expression was to be had there. Papercutting made him want to put his fist and/or head through a wall, but that prospect just didn't have the same kick anymore.
Niko, however, wasn't discouraged in the slightest. Her relentless optimism was appreciated, yet somehow exhausting at the same time. Charles felt as though he ought to be properly angry about this by now, and she was making it difficult to manage any more than some dejected grumpiness. So when she suggested watercolors, he couldn't bring himself to decline.
At first he didn't feel very strongly either way about them. Then his mood got worse, as he started to feel well and truly terrible at this whole art thing. But Niko was an angel as always, with her gentle encouragement and glowing smile. So he kept going, and soon enough he started to enjoy himself.
It had been overwhelming, at first, how little control he had. But then he started to embrace it, and things started to fall into place. He was right where he was supposed to be as a beginner, Niko had said, and he was inclined to believe her. It was just shapes and colors, really. He could handle that. Practice too, but that would take time. He didn't think he minded being inexperienced, anymore. Learning was fun with Niko.
Watercolor classes became a regular occurrence, whenever their case schedule could accommodate it. Progress was made, slowly but surely, as he gained his footing in the medium. The emotional expression part was still tricky, but he had a tool for it now.
Edwin was growing more confused and concerned by the day. When previously they would have spent their free time together, Charles had been spending it with Niko. But when Edwin had attempted to go along with them, she politely told him to make himself scarce. The look on Charles' face as Edwin walked through the mirror into her apartment was perplexing, as well, almost as though he was uncomfortable with Edwin’s presence. Edwin tried not to be hurt, and failed miserably.
He concluded that they were doing something of significance, but Niko had ushered him out before he could find out. The whole situation was entirely out of left field. The two of them got along well to be sure, but the two of them together, alone, was quite a departure from their arrangement in Port Townsend. Then, Charles had spent time with Crystal, and Edwin with Niko. So when they ran off to Niko's place, leaving him with Crystal, he found himself quite out of his depth indeed.
She was, as well. The first time it happened, they simply blinked at each other for a few moments. She shrugged at him, sitting down on the couch and scrolling on her phone. He sat down at his desk and tried to look as though he had any idea what to do with himself now.
The whole situation was beginning to eat away at him, though not in the literal sense, thankfully. He simply couldn't understand what was going on with the two of them, their cryptic responses when he inquired providing no clarity whatsoever. But he and Crystal were spending more time together, settling into a routine of time spent quietly coexisting, until her living person needs begged her attention.
On one such day, as she stood to leave, he decided to act. “Crystal, may I speak with you?” He said, standing and stepping around the desk, his fists pressing together as he spoke. She turned around, with surprise on her face. Her expression softened as her gaze flitted down to his hands. “Uh, sure. What's up?” She asked. “I was wondering if you could enlighten me as to what Niko and Charles have been getting up to. I don't wish to pry, it's only that- Well, I suppose I'm worried, is all.” He replied.
Her face screwed up into a grimace, one hand coming up to rest on her forehead and the other on her hip. “Ah, shit, I was hoping you knew. Yeah, I got nothing. It's weird, right? Like of course they're friends, we all are, and I'm glad they're hanging out. But why are they being so secretive about it? I mean, fine, they can keep their secrets. It's none of our business until they want it to be. But why are they keeping it a secret?” She said, flopping down to lay across the couch with her arms behind her head, her purple coat fanning out around her.
“My thoughts exactly.” He replied, sitting cross-legged against the couch on the floor, his hands clasped on his lap. “So I guess we've both just been worrying in silence, huh?” She said. “I suppose so.” He sighed, looking down at his hands. “Alright, come here. I know you aren't big on touch and all, but I think we both need some comfort right now.” She said, guiding his head to lay against her lap and running her fingers through his hair. She was right, he was surprised to find. It was nice.
“Yeah, it really sucks not knowing what's going on in your friends' lives. I guess it's probably worse for you than it is for me, though. Considering the whole 30 years of friendship thing.” She continued. He thought for a moment before replying. “Crystal, may I ask something rather personal?” He said, looking up at her. “I mean, go for it, I guess?” She replied.
He took a deep breath he didn't need, then spoke. “I know your romantic entanglement with Charles was rather short lived, but- What was it like?” He asked, his voice warbling slightly. She looked down at him, her hand in his hair stilling. His eyes were brimming with unshed tears, staring unblinking at the ceiling so as not to let them fall. “Oh, Edwin.” She said empathetically, sitting up to rest her cheek on his head, her arms wrapping around his shoulders. “It was fun while it lasted.” She muttered. His tears fell silently.
After a few months of lessons, Charles decided he was as ready as he would ever be. He had been practicing diligently, Niko was pleased with his progress, and if he kept on waiting any longer he was going to lose what remained of his mind. He gathered up his favorite paintings in a folder, hugged Niko goodbye, then stepped through the mirror into the office.
Edwin was reading on the couch, legs propped on one side as he leaned against the other. “Welcome back, Charles. I trust you enjoyed your time with Niko?” Edwin said without looking up from his book. “Yeah, I had a great time. Do you wanna see what we've been working on?” Charles replied, moving Edwin’s legs to sit down, then laying them across his lap.
That made Edwin look up. “Oh, well yes, certainly. If you would like to show me, that is.” He said, closing his book and setting it aside. Charles took a deep, steadying breath, then opened the folder, passing it to Edwin. His eyes widened, removing the first painting and staring at it intently, tracing the lines and curves with his fingertips. “Did you paint all of these?” He asked reverently. Charles nodded. “I know it's not great, and my technique could use some work, and-”
“Charles, I understand your present anxiety, but please, do be quiet. It's quite difficult to appreciate your artistry with you going on about how unsatisfactory you believe it to be.” He said, without taking his eyes off the paintings. Charles dutifully shut his trap, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. If he were still alive, it would have bled.
As Edwin looked through the folder, Charles watching him intently, he came to three conclusions. One, there was an awful lot of gray. Two, most of them were depictions of objects they had amassed through their detective work. Three, no other artists could ever hope to compare to Charles Rowland.
The first made little sense to him. Certainly, from a practice standpoint, a monochrome color palette was perfectly logical. But this was Charles, the most beautifully vibrant person he knew. The images before him were dull and gloomy in color, far from what he would expect from a person as cheerful as Charles. He was cheerful, wasn't he?
“So do you think they're alright?” Charles asked. “Alright is hardly the word I would use to describe them, they're wonderful. Thank you for showing me.” Edwin said, finally looking up with a smile. “Although I do have a question about the colors. Where are they?” He asked.
“Oh yeah, Niko had me start with gray so I could get the hang of the paint first. Then I guess it just kinda grew on me. It's sort of blueish actually, a bit hard to see it though. And it's got your last name. Payne’s gray.” Charles replied. That answered that, then, Edwin thought.
“Who's this, then?” He said, holding up a portrait. “It's supposed to be you. Not quite sure I did you justice, though.” Charles replied. “But why would you paint me?” Edwin asked, contemplating the painting. “Are you kidding, mate? Just look at you, you're bloody gorgeous.” Charles said, caressing Edwin’s face, his eyes twinkling like stars with the vibrancy of his smile.
Edwin met his gaze with surprise, his doubt evident. He averted his eyes, busying himself with tidying the paintings away in the folder before setting it aside. “Charles, please, you cannot say such things. Not when you…” He trailed off, uncertain.
“When I what?” Charles asked, pressing slightly with his hand to angle Edwin’s face to his again. “You don't love me the same as I love you.” Edwin said, quietly, his voice barely a whisper. A hint of red rimmed his eyes.
There was a pause, the sort that holds feeling more than mere words could ever hope to.
“Who says I don't? I said we had forever to figure out the rest, didn't I? Well it didn't take an eternity, but I've figured it out. You, Edwin, are the love of my afterlife. You always have been, I wish I'd seen it sooner. But none of that matters anymore, ‘cus I see it now. I'm in love with you, Edwin Payne.”
Another pause, with more feelings still. “Are you certain?” Edwin asked, his hands lifting to rest on Charles' shoulders. He had a pleading look in his eyes, as though to say ‘Please don't give me hope. Anything but that.’
“Of course I'm certain, you melonhead. I wouldn't be saying it if I weren't, now would I?” Charles said, his smile gentle now. “I am unsure what to say. I don't have the words.” Edwin replied with a shaky and unnecessary breath. “How about just one, can I kiss you? Yes or no?” Charles asked. “Please.” Edwin said, desperately. Charles briefly considered pointing out that “Please” was neither yes or no, and would have thought better of it, but all thoughts vanished from his mind the moment Edwin's lips touched his.
Words could not describe the feeling. Every day together led to that moment, and they felt it in the kiss. It was the culmination of over 30 years spent taking care of each other, as no one else ever had, as no one else could. Over 30 years of love and devotion, poured into the joining of lips, the sharing of breaths, the bonding of souls.
Charles grinned as they pulled away. “Absolutely brills, you are, Edwin. Totally aces. And really fit too, for that matter. Oh! And you remember what I said about that paint color having your last name?” He said. “Yes, obviously I do, it was only a few minutes ago, Charles.” Edwin replied, grinning back.
“Well, I've decided I like the sound of it. Quite a bit, actually. So I was wondering, could I have your last name too?” Charles said, the glint in his eye turning mischievous. Edwin laughed aloud, pressing their foreheads together, unable to contain his delighted mirth. “All in good time, ‘Charles Payne’, my dearest. We do have forever, after all.”
In the aftermath of Charles' class, he and Edwin came to a conclusion. While their afterlife spent together had been wonderful as it was before, they loved it all the more now. They had new friends, new memories, and a newfound understanding of themselves. Their conclusion remained unspoken. They both knew their view was shared, there was no need to express it.
The paintings became explosions of color, every hue in the light spectrum present. Charles had found his vibrancy in himself, and in Edwin, but most of all in the two of them together. All was well, and they had never been so content.