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Edwin was no stranger to feeling alone in a room full of people, but he decided this time probably stung the most.
Charles told him that he just needed to rest for a while. That he was fine. Load of rubbish that was.
Ghosts don’t need to sleep. Ghosts don't inexplicably turn green, and get holes in their faces, and get sick for no reason.
But here Charles was, laying on the floor of the Thai temple with all those afflictions, as Edwin sat beside him with nothing to do but wait for day to turn to night.
They were detectives though, Edwin reminded himself. They’ve saved the world before—two worlds, even! They could definitely solve this.
...
...
Why did this feel so much… heavier, then?
Melvin said that loving Tanya cursed them all, but maybe... Edwin's betrayal—his want for something more... maybe that was a curse too. In a way, he had felt like a curse since before he had even died.
He tucked his head between his arms and knees, listening to the various families passing them by as services continued. He couldn't understand the words, but the monks' chanting reminded him of the hymns they could hear that Sunday morning while Charles lay dying, Edwin sat beside him, making sure Charles didn’t have to be alone.
It was all so eerily similar.
He reached out a hand to Charles, not sure what he was actually looking for. Was Charles even colder than usual? Or was Edwin imagining it?
Edwin didn’t want to be alone again.