Chapter Text
“On your knees, Rowland!”
“Dirty.”
“Shut your face, I can’t see shit!”
With a chuckle, Charles crouched down in the middle of the dance floor, so Crystal could scramble on his shoulders with all the enthusiasm of a child climbing monkey bars. As he stood, she shielded her eyes from the strobe lights like an adventurer gazing over the Savannah, in search for her best friend, her heels drilling uncomfortably into his sides.
That night, Charles Rowland shouldn’t have been out on the town. Granted, he shouldn’t be out any night, but today especially. His father was already pissed enough. Still, Charles had promised Crystal and he wouldn’t let her go clubbing by herself. Anyway, he was eighteen years old, right, nearly out of the house – he could do whatever he wanted. At least that’s what he told himself.
He had met Crystal in this same dingy club – located in a corner of London that exclusively smelled like beer and cats – about two years prior, living out her god-damned teenage rebellion as much as he did. They had snogged on the regular for about two weeks before realizing they actually liked each other as people and Crystal was more in need of a friend than another notch on her bedpost. To be honest, it had stung a bit – Charles could’ve seen himself falling for her quite easily and quite stupidly. She was right fit, extremely clever and maybe a bit of a bitch about it, but ultimately a good person – so she pretty much ticked all of his boxes. But she also turned out to be the best friend he ever had. They helped each other to weed out their social circles over time – he got rid of the misogynistic pricks who thought he couldn’t be friends with a girl without shagging her, and she stopped hanging out with most of the vapid socialites and trust-fund babies she had met through her rich-as-royalty parents. Good riddance indeed.
Instead, Crystal had recently introduced Charles to the delightful nut that was Niko Sasaki – the most colourful girl in existence. She and Crystal attended the same private school for the higher arts – some Royal Academy of such-and-such. Crystal herself was in the visual arts program, whereas Niko was a dancer, who moved to London only this year, to finish her education in British glory and gather international experience. The girls had literally run into each other in the hallway and it had been love-at-first-sight (not that Crystal was ever brave enough to ask Niko out, the wuss).
“There she is!” Charles followed Crystal’s expertly manicured pointer finger to see Niko snake her way through the crowd towards them. As usual, she was dressed in the most neon of fashions, her white bleached hair in enormous space buns, adorned with glittery hairpins. But it did little to catch Charles eye, since someone way stranger followed on her heel.
Charles’ first thought was, that the fella looked out of place. And to some extent it was due to his clothes – even though Charles tried never to judge a book by its cover. This book however, was linen bound, with gilded edges and probably contained Shakespeare as far as the metaphor went. The boy in Nikos wake wore a preppy ensemble of slacks, a white dress shirt and an incredibly soft looking dark blue jumper – he had to be boiling under the clubs lights. As they came closer, Charles could even make out a bloody bow tie for fucks sake. His hair was discerningly neat, his features discerningly delicate and his expression discerningly uncomfortable, even though he moved through the crowd in fluid strides and expert twists, much like a dancer – if the dance was avoiding people.
“Hey, you guys!” Niko rushed the last few steps towards them, nearly knocking over a guy in a rainbow crop top in her haste. The guy stumbled towards the preppy boy behind her, who only escaped with a quick jump to the side, almost knocking into a girl dressed exclusively in glow sticks. He looked mortified and Charles couldn’t help his grin. This one would be fun.
Niko reached them, just as Crystal was back on solid ground, and the girls crushed each other in a hug, before roping Charles in to squeeze the life out of him – for pretty petite women, the two were unnervingly strong. “I missed you so much! How was your week? Oh wait, Edwin!” Niko turned to the preppy boy who had caught up by now and stood behind her like he was trying to hide. “Guys, this is Edwin. We met in class and he is the smartest boy in school, probably the smartest boy in the world, really. And also like, the best guy dancer we have! He likes books and is so polite but kind of in a bitchy way which is absolutely sweet–”
“Niko ...” Edwin sounded pained, his face screwing up in discomfort and even in the darkness Charles could see him blush up to his ears.
Yes. This one would be fun.
“Hey, mate! Charles Rowland.” He grinned and stretched out his hand, way too formal for him personally, but the guy looked like he would appreciate the curtsey. “Any friend of Nikos is aces in my book.”
Edwin didn’t take his hand, instead he looked at Charles with an unreadable expression and gave a small nod and a “Pleasure” almost to low to hear. Okayyy... Charles took his rejected hand in stride and used it to gesture to Crystal. “And this is Crystal Palace Surname-van-Hovercraft. Yes, that is her actual full legal name.” That one usually got some kind of reaction, but to Charles’ disappointment, Edwin did not seem fazed at all, only looking at Crystal with a carefully neutral expression. “I think we have met.”
Crystal nodded and Charles knew her face well enough to gather that this past meeting hadn’t been pleasant. What’s up with that guy? “Payne, was it?”
Edwin inclined his head a bit, like a proper bloody gentleman. “I think I accompanied my parents to one of your mother’s gallery openings.” So he was one of those guys. The ones Crystal had to deal with because their parents paid her parents a bunch of money for a bunch of junk.
“The one with all the blue dicks?”
Edwin cringed. “I am afraid so.”
“That one was so weird...”
“It left me quite baffled, to be frank. And my mother was scandalised, although that is not too hard to accomplish. How are you, Crystal?”
“Wait!” Charles interrupted, holding up his hands as if to stop traffic. “Can we circle back to the blue dicks? Because that just sounds proper painful!”
Before either Crystal or Edwin could elaborate, Niko grabbed Edwin’s arm. “Come on, enough about weirdly coloured genitalia. Let’s get some drinks and then go dancing!”
Edwin stiffened even more, if that was possible. “I do not drink, Niko.”
She just beamed at him. “That’s okay, we can get you a soda! Crystal, Charles, you want anything?”
Charles only raised his half-full beer bottle in answer and Crystal shook her head, so Niko just waltzed along, dragging Edwin behind her with all the energy of a woman operating a steam-roller. Maybe, as Charles watched them leave, his eyes might have traveled a bit too low, because Crystal delivered a swift elbow right to his ribs.
“Oi!”
“Don’t even think about it.”
There might have been an iota of a real pout mixed in with his mock-pout. “Why not? Is something wrong with the guy?”
She wrinkled her nose, gaze drifting to the bar at which Niko was hailing a server as one would a taxi, while Edwin just stood to the side and looked like he wanted to be any place but here. “Not particularly. I just talked to him once and he’s a bit of a know-it-all. He explained the whole history of cubism to me, before I could even get a word in edgewise.”
Uh, bad foul – Charles knew how well Crystal took to mansplaining. Still, he couldn’t stifle his grin. “So he’s smart, huh? You think he’s into blokes?”
“Dude, the only thing straight about him is his posture. But you really don’t want to get into those pants, trust me. He’s a Payne.”
“As in pain-in-the-ass?”
“As in the Payne family. His father is some big lawyer guy, working with a bunch of asshole politicians and his mother is head of basically a third of London’s conservative philanthropic organisations. My parents fucking hate them, and you know they usually don’t have issues with assholes as long as they have money. And the Paynes have like, fucking old-ass money.”
“Damn…” Charles sighed deeply, letting his eyes wander to Edwin again. “Tories should not be allowed to have cute rears.”
“Eyes up, lover boy.”
“But if he’s friends with Niko he can’t be that bad, can he?”
“Niko only sees the best in people. Maybe he just hasn’t shown her the worst of him yet.”
Charles frowned – but at this point he trusted Crystal’s intuition more than his own. After all, she was a proficient vibe-reader. “Right… fine, I’m gonna behave.”
“Just looking out for you.”
Their conversation was stopped short, when Niko returned with a brightly coloured cocktail in hand and Edwin in tow, who now had a water-bottle to cling to, which seemed to lessen some of his nerves. The corner of his mouth even lifted as he watched Niko take Crystal’s hand to drag her deeper into the crowd, lifting her frown into a swoon – and Charles thought that maybe he couldn’t be such a bad guy after all. “So, you’re a ballet dancer too?”
Edwin flinched, like he didn’t expect anybody to talk to him, and he looked at Charles with a careful expression. Like he was waiting to be hit or something. It took Charles a moment to register, that Edwin was steeling himself against some possible onslaught of toxic masculinity or blatant homophobia, so he quickly kept talking, trying to ease the fella: “That’s right sick, mate.” Edwin frowned and Charles wanted to bite his tongue. “Like, I mean, that’s cool.” Edwin tilted his head. It had something of a confused puppy which was just darling, wasn’t it. “I mean… dancing.” Charles gave a little jig, followed by his best Michael Jackson turn and grinned at him. “Right fun, innit?”
Finally, Edwin nodded, albeit slow and hesitant. And thank fuck, Charles was thinking he would have to bust out his crude juggling skills to get a reaction out of that guy – Crystal always said he was destined for clowning. “So if you go to Nikos school, you must be aces then.”
“I am alright.”
Well… at least he got an answer for once. The most cynical part of Charles – a part of him that sounded way too much like his father for comfort – told him that Edwin was just some stiff wanker with a silver spoon up his rear, who thought himself too good to talk to someone like Charles. A softer part of him – now that one was pretty much just his mother’s voice – argued that the guy was probably just shy. The answer usually fell somewhere in the middle, but Charles mostly tried to go with the option that did not make him feel like a bloody prick. So he kept smiling and kept trying. “So… when did you start dancing?”
“When I was six.”
Charles stared at him. “Wow.”
“Most professionals start at three.”
“Most people don’t walk at three.”
“They very much do.”
“Geez, always was a bit slow, wasn’t I?” Was that a little smirk? Yes.
And finally a full sentence: “Do you attend the Academy too?” Edwin let his eyes roam over his patched up jacket, chain necklace, collection of pins, ripped jeans, black rimmed eyes, and Charles gave him what Crystal had once dubbed his panty-dropper-smile – unfortunately, Edwin’s clothing and smooth expression stayed firmly in place. “Music department perhaps?”
Charles snickered. “Nah, you wouldn’t want to hear me sing, mate. I sound all battered cat like. Don’t have any marketable talents, I’m afraid. Just out here trying to get my A-levels, like a mere mortal.”
Edwin only nodded and this seemed to be the end of the conversation. Well, they had a good run.
It was at this point that none other than Thomas King sauntered over to them – clad in a black skirt, his stupid faux-fur coat, neon paint, little else – and his eyes were set on Edwin. Charles sighed before he could even open his mouth. Leave it to Thomas to sniff out fresh meat in under ten minutes.
“Well, well, well… aren’t you a new face around here? And such a pretty one at that.” He grinned his signature Cheshire grin and leaned into Edwin’s space who swiftly took a step back, bumping into Charles.
“Don’t be a creep.” Charles quickly slung an arm around Edwin’s shoulders and squared off to get some room between the two, even as Edwin went rigid against him. Maybe it was the bow-tie or the lost look in his eye, but Edwin gave Charles the clear impression, that he would simply combust on the spot if confronted with the full force of Thomas’ flirting. “This’ my new mate Edwin. Edwin, that’s walking STD Thomas King – no relation to actual royalty other than his overall fuckwittage. Don’t shake his hand, it’s probably sticky.”
Edwin raised his brows and considered Thomas with something akin to concern. “Charmed.”
As usual, Thomas’ grin did not falter. “Where did you pick that one up, Rowland? Got lost in the tea parlor on the way here?”
“He’s a friend of Niko’s.”
That got a little glint in Thomas’ eye. “Oh, I adore Niko, she’s the best crazy woman I’ve ever met.”
Finally, Edwin allowed himself a tiny smile – and Charles tried not to let it get to his ego, that bloody Thomas had accomplished it before he did. “She’s oddly charming, isn’t she?”
“Are you another ballerina then? Bet you must be quite flexible.”
Edwin leveled him with an unimpressed glare. “I do not appreciate the implication.”
With a smoldering look, Thomas leaned closer, crowding Edwin – impressive for a guy who was half a head shorter than him. “Well, I can show you something to appreciate if you show me how well you can bend.”
“Oi!” With a hand straight to his face, Charles pushed Thomas away from Edwin who was taking on a whole new colour at this point. “Why don’t you get bent yourself, bruv? Bugger off now.”
Thomas shrugged and gave Edwin another teasing grin and a “See you later, black swan”, before slinking back into the crowd, vanishing as quickly as he arrived.
Charles rolled his eyes. “Don’t mind him, mate. We should really get him neutered.”
“What a… colourful individual.”
Charles threw his hands wide, engulfing the whole dark and neon of the club, the loud music, the sweaty dancers, the kissing and grinding couples in one gesture. “Well, look around you. You’re surrounded by colourful. It’s brills, innit?”
Instead of letting his gaze wander, Edwin looked up at Charles, searching his face and nodding slightly at whatever he found there. “It certainly is.”
Over the next few weeks, Edwin Payne became a reluctant constant in Charle’s life. Whenever he and Crystal met up, Niko was not far behind and she basically dragged Edwin along to anything, stating that her new friend needed to get out of the house more – something Edwin did not seem to be in agreement with. However, Charles was very much aware that one did not simply say no to Niko Sasaki. For example, they sometimes met for dinner at Crystal’s favourite spot and Edwin had a salad with dressing on the side he did not even end up using, which just seemed weird to Charles. As a dancer, Niko too adhered to a quite strict diet, but she always indulged when going out and considered herself a connoisseur of anything sweet and fruity – which, according to Charles, was also how she selected her friends (the girls were delighted at that, Edwin only frowned).
As it turned out, Edwin was classically trained not only in ballet but also in tap dance, jazz, contemporary (whatever that meant) and ballroom dancing (also violin apparently, but that somehow did not count?) and he often actually stayed later than anybody else in the studio to practice the steps their instructors did not teach him. “That’s how I met Edwin, actually”, Niko explained with a brilliant smile. “I was looking for someone to help me out with the Dance of the Willis, and the girls all pointed me towards Edwin. You should see him, guys, he is amazing. His technique en pointe is just soooo crisp.”
Edwin’s ears grew perfectly pink at her praise. His eyes always got a bit softer when looking at Niko, like she was his favourite person. It was downright lovely to see that glint of humanity in such a marble face. “It is simply daft to limit oneself because of one’s gender. Especially if you want to master something.”
Crystal grinned at that. “Right, fuck the dance patriarchy.” She held out her hand for a fist-bump, but Edwin just seemed a bit lost at the gesture. Helpful as always, Charles took Edwin’s hand, maneuvered his fingers into a fist and bumped it against Crystals hand. “See, mate. That’s how the riff-raff show respect to each other. Try to blend in.” Edwin glared at him for the rest of the meal.
The girls often came round the little shop Charles was working at three days a week after school, buying tons of sweets and overall just bothering him. On a particular late afternoon, Edwin tagged along and while Niko and Crystal debated about sweet paprika versus sour-onion crisps, he had leaned over the register to gaze at Charles’ English homework he was trying to get finished between customers. “What are you writing about?”
“Got a text analysis due tomorrow. Orpheus and Eurydice. You know that one?”
Edwin scoffed at him. “Of course I do, it is only one of the best known part of Ovid’s Metamorphoses.”
Charles rolled his eyes. “Oh well, me lord, excuse a lowly peasant for not knowing that. But whatever, I like the story. Quite romantic, innit? The whole going to hell to get your love back and such.”
Edwin frowned at him. “Charles… that story ends quite tragically.”
“It does? Shite, I should probably finish reading it, huh?”
Staring at him in disbelief, Edwin only shook his head, letting his gaze roam over Charles’ little homework set up of books, a notepad and pencils behind the register. “This can’t be the best setting for you to study in.”
“Well, some people have to earn money if they ever want a chance to get out of their parent’s bloody basement, mate.”
“Your education–”
“Can’t pay for rent, can it, Prince William?” They stared at each other and there was suddenly a certain strain in the air. Money tended to create that. Charles had tried to keep his tone light – after all Edwin neither knew about nor had anything to do with his issues at home. Since he turned eight-teen a few months prior, Crystal had tried several times to convince Charles to take money from her so he could get his own place or at least a room somewhere. But she had too much experience with so-called friends only being around her because she was rich. He wouldn’t do that to her. Still … it was a sore spot and Edwin – posh, well-dressed, private-school-educated Edwin – had put his finger right in the wound …
That evening; the girls dragged them along to karaoke, which Edwin (unsurprisingly) did not participate in – but at least he couldn’t suppress his laughter at Charles’ horrendous solo rendition of the Cell Block Tango. It was the first time Charles had seen Edwin outright laugh and he had to admit, it was a brilliant laugh – bright and loud and belly-clutching – that fed his ego quite a bit and soothed the lingering burn of their earlier discussion. “Told you I got no talent, mate!”
“I do think breaking the sound barrier with horrendous musical numbers should be considered a talent.”
“Oi!”
They went out on Saturday nights – Niko and Edwin had to get up early for practice every day except Sunday. Edwin only drank water, sometimes with a lemon slice if he felt frisky – Charles wasn’t one to pressure people into drinking alcohol, but just once he wanted to see what would happen if Edwin ingested something as adventurous as a soda. Edwin did not seem to appreciate the club scene (especially since Thomas seemed to have his sights set on him since their first brief meeting and now came locked and loaded with an increasingly horrifying list of dance-related innuendos), so without talking about it, the group transitioned their weekend hangouts into pubs and selected corner booths that were a bit quieter.
It wasn’t like Edwin Payne was a bland person, despite the initial impression Charles had of him. He quickly learned that Edwin was simply more composed than most people he knew – and he didn’t seem to cope well with crowds and noise and excess attention (quite unpractical for a dancer, in Charles’ humble opinion). However, his tongue was quick with wit that often turned into a bitch-off with Crystal the two of them seemed to begrudgingly enjoy. After his initial reserved stiffness, Edwin now met Charles’ antics and bright crassness with nothing but cool eyebrow-raises and small smirks that maybe did something to Charles’ body temperature. So yes, he might have been dialing up the charm a bit, even with Crystal shooting him half amused, half warning looks and Edwin not reacting to it at all.
And he could really get into an excited rant whenever the conversation grazed a topic he was interested in – only to then simmer down into bashfulness once he noticed that everyone was quietly listening to him. This way, Charles learned that besides dancing, Edwin was also interested in chemistry, history and pretty much anything readable he could get his hands on. They spent an entire evening talking about books and realizing they had the same obsession for old-school detective comics when they were kids. The next time they met, Edwin had brought a tote bag filled to the brim with Sherlock Holmes and Agatha Christie and even selected works of Edgar Allan Poe – “After all, Poe’s Dupin was the first of his kind, even before Holmes.” They were all well-loved pocket books, the edges soft from several readings over the years. He had hesitated before giving them to Charles shortly before they said their goodbyes for the night, telling him to read them at his own pace, if he wanted to. “Of course you don’t have to, I just thought–”
“Cheers, mate! That’s aces. Always wanted to get into the classics.”
Edwin had smiled then, sweet as sugar – yes, Charles was suddenly way more interested in the classics.
Then there was that one fateful evening: It was Friday and they met up in a pub near the academy for some chips and a pint (only lemon water for Edwin, the rascal). Niko entertained the little group with a retelling of a particularly embarrassing mishap during dance practice until she realized her glass was empty. So the girls left the table to fight their way to the bar in hopes of drinks and maybe more snacks. Charles watched them go, Niko following behind Crystal and holding on to her hand as if not to get lost in the tiny pub. “Seriously, I don’t know what Crystal is waiting for.”
“Hm?”
“I mean it’s obvious Niko is into her too, right?”
“Are you not in a sort of... how did Niko put it? A ‘situationship’ with Crystal?”
Charles snorted at that. “Mate, that was like, two years ago. Crystal is my best friend. If that’s what keeps Niko from going for it, I might need to have a chat with her.”
He felt Edwin’s eyes on him and did not look back, deciding it was best to let the boy stare his fill while Charles’ gaze roamed the people around them. Then, finally: “My parents would hate you.”
Not what he had expected, but Charles still grinned at him. “Cheers, mate.”
“No, listen: You are in need of some funds, as I understand.”
Charles stiffened, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “So what?”
“Well, I am in need of autonomy.”
“Right… I’m not following you.”
Edwin sighed, folding his hands into a neat triangle Charles had observed over the last few weeks to be a signal for whenever Edwin would unload A Thought onto someone. “Charles, I used to have a boyfriend. But we broke up about six months ago.”
Where is this conversation going? “That sucks, mate.”
Edwin waved away his sympathy like a pesky insect. “Doesn’t matter. The point is: My parents hated him. So much. And he was in no way as rebellious or brazen as you. We’d been together for only three months when I overheard my father offering him quite a sum of money to leave me.”
Charles could only sit and stare in shock. “That’s... bloody psychotic. What did the bloke do?”
Edwin blinked at him like he was a bit slow. “Well, we broke up, didn’t we?”
“He took the money?!”
“Yes. Do keep up, Charles.” Now Edwin began to rub his fists together, a strange and fussy gesture Charles could not really place. He could only look at him, feeling a bit hollow. Who would do such a thing to another person? Least of all someone they fancied. “The point is, my parents have certain expectations of me. It was already hard enough to convince them that I would never be content with dating girls. Now, they barely accept that I am gay, and they want me to date someone who is proper and posh and all the things they value. There is this boy they set me up with – the one gay son in their social circle – and I simply cannot stand him. But I'm afraid he is to become Duke of something or other and thus my mother is quite keen on us dating.”
“A duke?! What in the bloody Bridgerton… ?”
Edwin gave him a dark look. “If he was anything like the Bridgerton kind of Duke we would not have this conversation, Charles. He wears a different Rolex on every weekday and a jumper tied over his shoulders and he is the dullest person I ever had the displeasure of meeting!” He underscored his words by bringing his unconvincing fist down on the table and Charles smiled because it was just so darling. “He talked about crypto-currency and NFTs and his investments. All. Evening. I can’t do this again, Charles! It was like getting dinner with the bloody personification of Eton!”
As distressed as his new friend sounded, Charles couldn’t help a sly grin. “So you like your fella with an edge, huh?”
Edwin blinked at him, unimpressed. “I like ‘my fella’ with a personality.”
“Are you coming on to me? I’m not saying it’s not working.” It was only half a joke, to be honest – maybe a third of a joke.
“Be serious, Charles, I am trying to make a proposal.”
“Now, that’s a little early in our relationship, innit?”
“CHARLES!”
He chuckled and held up his hands in innocence. “Right, what are you proposing?”
Edwin took a deep breath, folding his hands again as if to regain control of the conversation. “A deal. You pretend to be my boyfriend for a few weeks, show up at my house, escort me to social functions and such. Your overall person, manner and opinions should be enough to truly scandalise my parents. At the end of the day, they only want what’s best for me. And they might reconsider the best when I show them what in their eyes would be the worst.” He considered Charles with an elegantly raised brow. “A middle-class heathen with ripped trousers. If we horrify them enough, they might be more amicably to any future romantic endeavours of mine.”
At this point, Charles wasn’t certain if he should be offended. “So what, you want me to scare your folks into not being racist, homophobic pricks?”
Edwin blinked at him. “I have no illusions of you being able to perform miracles, but pretty much, yes. You will only need to be yourself, only less... charming.”
Charles gave him a bright grin. “You think I’m charming?”
Edwin ignored him. “And I will act all smitten with you. When they offer you the money to break up with me – and rest assured, throwing money at problems is their only way of handling anything – you will take it. I shall be horribly heartbroken to make them feel guilty and any subsequent romantic partner who is a bit more... mellow than you will be quite welcome.”
Charles stared at him, unsure of how he could’ve ever thought of Edwin Payne as innocent. “Damn... you are a conniving little bastard, aren’t you?”
Edwin smiled then, looking utterly pleased with himself. “My father once told me that, if you want somebody to take a bad deal, you have to offer them a worse deal first. When they haggle and you begrudgingly agree to the bad deal you were aiming for all along, they will feel like they negotiated you into a great one. Oldest trick in the book.”
“How do I know you are not doing that to me right now?”
“Because I do not have any reason to con you into anything.”
“Why me? Why not ask Thomas? He seems to actually fancy you, he would be thrilled.”
“I gather that Thomas fancies anything that breathes. And even if his intentions were true, then it would be quite cruel of me to use him in this manner, would it not?”
“But you don’t have any issues with using me.”
Edwin gave a one-shouldered shrug. “You are not actually attracted to me.” Presumptuous, but okay. “This is a way better foundation for such an endeavour. And Niko tells me you have a good heart.” His eyes softened then. “So I thought you might be inclined to listen to my offer.”
Charles sighed heavily, rocking his chair back on two legs. This whole thing was downright crazy. “How much money are we even talking about?”
“With Simon it was £10.000.”
He almost took a tumble then, his chair crashing back on four legs in an instant. “TEN– fucking hell, you are expensive! Wait, that sounded wrong–”
“If you are especially inappropriate, you might raise that sum even higher.” Edwin looked at him now, a new openness in his gaze. “I do not want to offend you, Charles, I hope you know that. You seem to be an exceedingly clever person and the girls obviously adore you. My parents’ sensibilities are not my own. I just want them to... back off a little. And I thought, why not get some profit out of it for a... a friend who needs it.”
A friend. He could work with that.
Charles stood then, sliding himself on the empty seat Niko had left next to Edwin in the booth and enjoying the redness rising to the other boy’s ears. With his best devious grin, he crowded him in his seat, one arm spread over the back of the cushions, one on the table in front of them, waiting a moment for Edwin to look up at him with uncertain eyes. Then he held out his hand in close proximity. “Fine. You got yourself a bad influence for hire.”
Edwin sighed like he already regretted every decision that led him to this point. But he took Charles’ hand anyway, and they shook on their deal like proper gentlemen.
Charles could not stop grinning.
This would be fun.
Notes:
Hi friends! Since my first Dead Boy Detectives fic Romance Is Dead is coming to a close, I wanted to have some AU fun – happy to have you guys along for the ride!
Chapter 2: First Date
Notes:
Thanks to all of you for your great feedback on chapter one! It really motivated me to get this one out quickly. Let's have fun with these two idiots!
Chapter Text
“We should talk about boundaries.”
They had met in the British Library and Charles quickly found himself following Edwin around through the labyrinth of shelves as the other handed him book after book, the stack in his arms swiftly growing past his nose. “Boundaries?”
Edwin nodded, considering the cover of a anatomy book the size of a boulder. Charles sincerely hoped he wouldn’t have to carry that one around. “Since this is a sort of transaction we both should be comfortable with its terms.”
“Oi, you make it sound like I’m prostituting myself, mate.”
Edwin didn’t dignify this with a comment, instead he simply put the boulder on the pile. Charles’ arms started to ache. “While I concur that a certain level of physical touch would be required to keep up the ruse, I'd prefer it not to be too overt.”
“So… Should we like…” He hesitated and Edwin, who was way too quick in picking up the intricacies of Charles’ tone, narrowed his eyes at him. “Should we what?”
Charles shrugged, a bit wobbly on how to finish his sentence. “I dunno, like... actually snog? As like… practice? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, mate. But at some point people will expect us to kiss, right?”
“You are right.”
Charles blinked at him. He had not expected to get this far. “I am? I mean, I am! ...am I?” Was he?
Without another glance at him, Edwin just kept on walking. “You are, Charles. And you might be right that it would be better if we were already familiar with... that. But I do not want you to kiss me.”
“Ouch, right in the pride, mate.”
Edwin rolled his eyes. “This scheme is not supposed to be in any way about actual physical intimacy. It would be quite unethical, to say the least.”
“So, wait... do you not want to kiss me? Or do you not want me to feel obligated to kiss you? Because those are two different things and one of those is not an issue.”
“I don’t want to cause you any discomfort.”
“So... you would be cool with snogging if I was down?” Charles tried to catch Edwin’s eye, to somehow glean any reaction from his marble face – but if the conversation about them snogging affected him in any way, Edwin did not show it. Darn his impeccable pokerface.
“Charles, this is simply inappropriate. The power dynamic in this scheme–”
“We are friends, right?”
To his surprise, now was the time for a series of unreadable micro-expressions to rush over Edwin’s face before he could school it into cool composure again. “Apparently we are. But this is about money.”
“So what? It can’t also be fun?”
Edwin sighed deeply. “I will not kiss you to benefit my scheme, Charles. A friend would not do this to you.”
“You know, for a bloody little con-man you have way too much of a sense for justice, mate.”
“Let’s call it honour among thieves.”
“Still didn’t answer the question though.”
“And what question would that be?”
Charles went for a sly grin, even though it might have been dampened by the way his arms shook by now under the weight of Edwins reading list. “If you’d want to snog me.”
He only got an exasperated sigh for his troubles, as Edwin navigated them to an empty table out of earshot of any other patrons and Charles could finally – thankfully – put down the books. Which meant he had his hands free to lean into Edwin with a teasing grin, poking him in the arm. “So, how should I scandalise your folks if they don’t think I’m doing scandalous things to you?”
Edwin gave him a deadpan look. “It’s called implication, Charles.”
“It’s called a bloody thin cover, mate. I’m not gonna bend you over the coffee table, but we gotta do something. Maybe purposefully get caught with our pants down, if you really want to drive home the point.”
Charles quite enjoyed the redness rising in Edwin’s cheeks. “My trousers shall stay firmly in place, thank you.”
“Fine, I will be the pantless bloke, but you are seriously staunching my genius for chaos, mate.”
Edwin frowned at him. “That’s another thing. You can’t call me ‘mate’ if we want to appear as a couple. So what terms of endearment would you be comfortable with?”
Charles gave him a wicked grin. “You could call me ‘daddy’.”
It was fascinating how swiftly someone could get tomato red down to their neck. “Charles! Do be serious!”
“Hey, nothing could shock your parents more, right?”
“I want to shock them, not give my father an aneurism.”
“Fine, no dirty talk in front of the folks.”
“No dirty talk at all!”
“Now you’re just taking the fun out of it.”
“Charles!”
He couldn’t hold back his laughter anymore. Edwin’s voice had become as high-pitched as a tea kettle. “Alright, alright! What did you call your last boyfriend then?”
Abruptly, Edwin’s eyes turned misty and he lowered his gaze. Charles instantly felt like a prick. “We didn’t really talk like that to each other.” Before he could apologize or reach out – and really, what would he have reached out for? – Edwin took a steadying breath and looked at Charles, eyes clear of any emotion other than mild curiousity. “What did you call your girlfriends in the past?”
Charles shrugged. “Never had something solid enough to warrant a pet name.”
If he was surprised, Edwin didn’t show it and Charles tried his best not to read into his non-expression. “And if you had?”
Suddenly, Charles felt selfconscious, sheepish even. He looked at his hands, his fingers drumming on the desk. “I don’t know... I... think I’d like to call someone ‘love’ someday. I know it’s a bit old-school and probably makes me sound like someone’s nan... but I think it’s nice. Calling someone your love, you know?”
“Then you shall not call me that.”
Charles’ head snapped up and he frowned at Edwin, who suddenly had a certain softness in his eyes he hadn’t seen before. “Why?”
“Because it is obviously special to you and you shouldn’t waste it on me. Anything else?”
He thought for a second before shrugging. “I could call you ‘babe’. Not that inappropriate but just stupid enough to scandalise your folks, innit?”
Edwin’s face closed off again and he nodded curtly. “Certainly. And I shall stick with ‘Charles’ for the time being.”
“You know, ‘daddy’ is still on the table.”
“CHARLES!”
“So how did we meet?” They had left the library with Edwin’s final selection of books now slung over Charles’ shoulder in a tote bag, taking the long way towards the tube, paper to-go cups in hand (a caramel mocha latte for Charles, black coffee for Edwin), bundled up against the first autumn chill.
Edwin blinked at him like he feared for Charles’ mental state. “We met at that club several weeks ago, Charles.”
“I know, but is that the story we tell your folks? ‘Oh, we met at a club and I told him who to avoid so he doesn’t get the clap. It was love at first sight’.”
Edwin’s face scrunched up. “Oh dear lord, no. Good point, I didn’t even think that people would want to hear how we got together.”
“Mate, that’s like, the first thing people ask couples.”
“I guess so… I never really understood that, to be frank. Why would I want to know under which circumstances some random people decided to get together?”
Charles snorted, shaking his head in disbelief. “Fuck, you are so bloody unromantic.”
Edwin frowned at him. “How is that in any way romantic?”
“Because it’s about people’s love stories, innit? Like… my mum often says she knew my dad was the one because he always carried her books when they went to school together. How such a small thing, made her feel like a princess and he was her knight.” There was a bitter taste in those words, but Charles still believed them, because they were so sweet when his mother said them.
Edwin considered this for a moment, taking a sip of his coffee. “My parents were introduced to each other by their families. I think my father escorted my mother to the Queen Charlotte’s Ball and that pretty much sealed the deal.”
“Your mum was a fucking debutant?”
“You know, nowadays it’s more about networking, business education and charity work.”
“Did she wear a big white dress?”
“… yes. But you see, it’s not a very romantic story.”
“But ours could be! If we pretend anyway, we could make a fucking Hallmark movie out of it.”
Edwin smirked at him, raising an amused brow. “Alright. And how would our story go?”
Charles gave him a bright smile. “Okay, so… maybe it was like this.” He stopped in his tracks – much to the disgruntled dismay of other passers-by – and took Edwin’s gloved hand that was not holding the coffee in his, just for dramatic effect. “We met at the British Library.”
“Creative.”
“Oi, let me cook. So… we were reaching for the same book and our hands touched.”
“Sounds cliché.”
“Damn, you are critical for someone who doesn’t care about this stuff.”
Edwin arched a brow at him. “If I am to have a grand romantic story, it should be a bit thought out at least.”
Charles chuckled. “Fine. How about… so you went to the library, and you walked out with all your books, and there… there was that weird guy who, like, knocked right into you, scattering the books all over the pavement.”
“Are you the weird guy?”
“Fuck no! That was probably Thomas. So he just walks off–”
“I think Thomas would have taken the chance to flirt with me.”
“Oi, don’t flirt with other blokes during our meet-cute, mate.” Edwin chuckled, which was only fuel for Charles ridiculousness. “So he walks off, all huffy, and you stoop down to gather up the books–”
“And suddenly there is a handsome stranger there to help me?”
“What did I say about other guys in our Hallmark movie?”
“Charles, the handsome stranger would be you.”
“Oh! Then yes, that’s exactly how that happened. And because you were still rattled from that collision–”
“I do tend to be a damsel in distress.”
“–I took you out for some coffee.” He held up the to-go cup. “And we talked about detective novels and you made me a reading list for all the classics…”
“Chronologically, starting with Dupin.”
“Obviously! And we spent the whole day in that café, the meet-cute basically transitioned straight into our first date. We were just talking and sharing cake–”
“I don’t eat cake.”
“Something you’ll have to change if you want our love to prevail, mate. But okay, sharing bloody avocado toast, for all I care. And once they closed shop, we just kept on walking together until it was way late.” He tucked Edwin’s hand in the crook of his elbow before finally continuing on their way. “And I escorted you to the tube.”
“What were we talking about all that time?”
“I don’t know. Your dancing, I guess? School. Our families. I think we were talking for so long, we would probably know a whole lot about each other by the end of the day.”
“Now that you mention it, we actually should at least cover the most surface level information.”
“Like?”
Edwin tilted his head in thought. “Do you have any siblings?”
“Nah, you?”
“Me neither. Favourite colour?”
“Red. And yours– wait, let me guess: Blue.”
Edwin blinked at him. “How…”
“You often wear blue. Which is nice, it suits you.”
“Quite astute…”
Charles grinned, a bit too proud of himself. “What else…? What music do you like?”
“I am quite the Debussy fan.”
“Excuse me?”
It went like this until they were standing at the tube station where they would have to part ways. They let several trains pass by without addressing it. When Edwin finally decided to get the next one, he turned one last time, just after entering the tube and looked at Charles with a curious expression as other passengers filed in past him. “How did it end?”
“What?”
“Our meet-cute-turned-first-date. You walked me to the tube and then what?”
Charles grinned. “I kissed you just before your train left.”
The doors closed.
Only a few days later, Charles arrived at what Edwin had called his family's ‘townhouse’. When Charles thought of townhouses, he pictured the tightly packed slivers of abodes he had grown up in – with stairs so steep and narrow they were potential death traps and windows so poorly isolated they frosted over in the winter. But the Payne’s townhouse was an actual house, with wrought iron fences on balconies and white columns and a perfectly pristine stucco facade, guarded by tall oak trees and an honest to god vintage Bentley in the driveway – black, shiny, beautiful, possibly worth more than Charles’ home. With a strange twist in his gut, he realized that ‘townhouse’ for Edwin probably meant quite literally ‘the house in the town’, as in ‘not the only house the family owned’.
“Fucking hell”, he muttered to himself. In his ripped jeans and scuffed boots, with his dad’s old army green rucksack over his shoulder, he felt like he could be arrested just by staring at the house too long. Speaking of which, if he didn’t get a move on, people would probably think he was scouting the place out. So he squared his shoulders, took one of those deep calming breaths his mother always recommended and put on a smile before walking up to the house with as much confidence as he could muster. Which was a lot.
As Edwin opened the door for him, Charles instantly recognized his pinched expression for what it was: the bloke was terrified. With any other friend, Charles would’ve drawn him into a hug and he kinda wanted to. But Edwin was different. They didn’t hug. He barely hugged Niko. So Charles just smiled brightly as if to make up for it and walked in. He made a point of looking around him with big eyes in the foyer. It was... well. White. Cream paneling on the walls, perfectly shined hard wood floors covered in beige, subtly ornate carpet, a fucking chandelier hanging from the tall ceiling, dousing everything in way too clinical light. Charles could feel the beginning of a migraine creeping up on him. “Well, your folks have a certain... style.”
“Our house looks like a museum.”
“...which is a style.” He grinned at Edwin who still looked stiff. And also lovely, Charles noticed. He wore the most casual outfit Charles had seen him in yet: a pair of black skin-tight leggings and an oversized white dress shirt, the hem falling to his mid-thigh. There was a bow on the collar – not a bow tie, an honest to god black velvet bow, like his throat was a present to unwrap. “Should I take off my shoes?”
Edwin considered the carpet with distaste. “Don’t.”
Charles’ mum would kill him for it, but he obliged. “So... where are your folks?”
“In the drawing room.” Who the fuck had a bloody drawing room anymore? “We might as well get it over with and introduce you. Let’s take it slow at first so they don’t call the police on you.”
“Right behind you, pretty boy.”
Edwin bristled, looking at Charles like he had just spat at him. “Pretty boy?”
“What? It’s accurate.”
Edwin rolled his eyes at him and walked ahead, leading him through a hallway full of decidedly hideous paintings. He said something about his parents appreciating a specific style of art as Charles appreciated the backside of the leggings. Art indeed.
As they neared a wide double door, carved with a relief of flowers, that Charles suspected would lead to the aforementioned drawing room, he took a big step to close the distance to Edwin’s side and snaked an arm around him, resting his hand a bit lower on Edwin’s hip than necessary.
“What are you doing?” Edwin hissed at him, startled by the sudden touch.
“Scandalizing.” He grinned at Edwin. “Show time, babe.”
The drawing room was just as beige as the rest of the house seemed to be, only accented by dark wood furniture that seemed like proper Chippendale, as far as Charles could tell such things. What elevated the whole picture to horrifying British perfection was an honest to god painting of bloody King Charles III. next to one of Queen Elisabeth II., adorned with a black mourning veil.
“Mother, father.” Edwin nodded to the two adults sat on an antique sofa in front of a massive fireplace who simultaneously looked up from their receptive newspapers. “This is Charles. My… boyfriend.”
Charles didn’t have Edwin’s extended vocabulary, so he could only use two words to describe Mr. and Mrs. Payne: rigid and severe. Or maybe four words: Sticks. Up. Their. Rears.
If he tried his best, he could maybe sum up Mrs. Payne as the unfortunate personification of a blonde bob – tall, thin, pale and by the looks of it overly fond of the colour beige. Mr. Payne was just as tall but more square in stature and countenance – a true embodiment of the phrase ‘stiff upper lip’ –, unlike his wife, who looked like a well placed huff would knock her over. Although she seemed to have inflicted her colourlessness upon her husband, whose dark hair was prematurely gray in some places. It was all Charles could come up with in this matter, and it seemed strange to him how such an equation could result in someone like the guy he was currently borderline groping. It was only in meeting Mr. and Mrs. Payne that Charles realized his earlier assessment of Edwin as stiff had been grossly unfair. Edwin was elegantly poised as a dancer should be. His parents elevated stiffness to a personality trait. They – it was hard for Charles to perceive them as separate entities due to their already mentioned lack of animation and overall beigeness – stared at him like he was a bug that dared to be crushed under their Italian shoes.
“Boyfriend”, Mr. Payne echoed and he somehow made it sound like rectal bleeding.
Charles gave him his best winning smile and decided to put on his dialect extra thick. “Cheerio, guv’ner. Boyfriend it is. Heard Billy Joel sing about uptown girls once, thought I’d give that a whirl, see what all the fuss’ about.”
Mr. Payne only raised a single brow at Charles, who now knew where Edwin got that move from – although it seemed way more condescending on his father’s face. “Charles, was it?”
“That’s right, Charles Rowland–” Charles had to suppress the automatic ‘sir’ his mother had drilled into him since he was basically able to talk. Always be polite, Charlie. People will look at you and not expect you to have manners. You have to be better than other boys, because they don’t give you the same benefit of the doubt. It was quite different from his father’s attitude, who tended to conflate politeness with weakness. But his mother knew things about the world his father never understood, so she raised her boy right. Still, in this case, Charles was supposed to be a menace, thus he tacked on a “–mate!” and watched Mr. Payne bristle with contempt.
Mrs. Payne looked at her husband and swiftly took over the conversation, her hands fidgeting in a way that finally revealed the familial connection to her son. “Well, nice to meet you, Charles. What–…” She looked him up and down. “What do your parents do? Do we know them?”
Charles snorted. Figures that would be the first question. “Nah, can’t imagine that. My dad’s a mechanic, owns a garage. Mum keeps the house runnin’ while he works his arse off.” Something in Mrs. Paynes face twitched – be it for his word choice or its content –, so he grinned. “And I work at a grocer’s.”
That got her face to actually split into concern as she turned to her son. “Edwin! How old is that man?”
Edwin only blinked at his mother incredulously. “Eighteen, just as I. People work while in school, mother.”
“Don’t use that tone with your mother.” Mr. Payne leveled his son with a stern look and Charles could feel Edwin shrink a bit next to him. So he did what he did best: draw attention. Drawing Edwin closer to his side, he made a show out of looking around the room, letting his eyes glide over the expensive décor. “You guys must do way better than my folks, you got quite the crib, don’t you? Right brills.” His gaze snagged on the bloody picture of her dearly departed majesty “Oi, so sad about old Lizzie, innit? At least she had her last hurrah with her two-hundred-million-pound-funeral. Really classy what with all the starving kids and the pandemic in this country, wasn’t it?” Edwin next to him made a little choking sound that Charles couldn’t help but grin about. He picked up the nearest object in his reach – a white bust that resided on a side table next to a crystal glass filled with almonds – and picked it up. It was quite heavy and probably something one shouldn’t handle carelessly, as Mrs. Payne’s sharp intake of breath insinuated. “Right classy, innit?” He looked up and caught Mr. Payne’s gaze – the man looked murderously dignified. “Now how much would one get for some fellas stone noggin’ at a pawn shop?”
Before Mr. Payne could react in any other way that wasn’t an astonished stare, Edwin quickly liberated the bust from his grasp, put it back on its former spot before taking Charles’ arm and dragging him towards the door. “Well, we should get on with it, then. Charles is actually here for some tutoring.”
“Well, we will see, babe!” Charles grinned at Edwin. “I might teach you some tricks or two of my own.”
He heard a little gasp from Mrs. Payne behind him and swallowed a chuckle as they ducked out of the drawing room, Edwin only hesitating a moment to turn back to his parents. “Mother, I will be sure to bring Charles along for tea at the salon for Saturday.”
Mrs. Payne, now even paler than before (however that was possible), only nodded before her son closed the door.
“Insinuating you want to rob our house might’ve been a bit much”, Edwin commented as he led Charles up a case of stairs.
“I think you hired me to be a bit much.”
“Granted.”
Edwin’s room was thankfully way less beige than the rest of the house – apparently he had been granted permission to personalize his space. Heavy dark blue curtains framed the windows and a glass door to a balcony, complementing the blue sheets on the bed that was the crown jewel of an obviously quite old and quite expensive set of furniture, expertly carved out of dark wood. Along with the bookshelves overflowing on the floor – the only thing remotely akin to untidyness in the otherwise perfectly straightened interior – and several little oddities scattered around the room (anatomical drawing framed on the walls next to floral sketches, several antique-looking candleholders, an actual brass microscope?), made the place look like something out of a very different time. Upon entering, Edwin did not light the big ceiling lamp, but rather went for a desk lamp and a tall standing light behind a blue armchair. To Charles’ relief, the light was warm and tinted orange instead of the bright surgical lighting in the rest of the house. This was a cozy and darkened island in the sea of passive-aggressive beigeness. “I can’t believe they didn’t even stand to great you”, Edwin scoffed as he was riffling through a stack of books on his desk. “For people who scolded me every time I would so much as put an elbow on a table as a child, they lose their manners remarkably fast.”
“Well, that right there is why we are doing this, innit? To teach some manners.” He walked over to the desk, perching in the side to catch Edwin’s eye with a grin. “I’d say we were doing a bang up job down there.”
Edwin conceded with a small smile. “It was a good first try. Although if you keep up calling my father ‘guv’ner’ you might give me kidney failure from keeping in my laughter.”
“You know, you could just laugh – I think your dad could do with being laughed at a bit.”
“I’m afraid we’re not much of a laughing household.” It was probably supposed to be a joke, but there was a hint of sourness in Edwin’s tone, so Charles quickly changed the subject.
“So, what are we doing now? Want to watch a movie or something.”
Edwin frowned at him, holding up one of the books he had been fiddling with. “Like I said, we are gonna study.”
Charles blinked at him. “We are.”
“Of course we are. You have a biology paper due on Monday.” He shook the book at Charles, who now recognized the brick of an anatomy text Edwin had inflicted upon him the other day.
“How do you even know that?”
“You mentioned it last Saturday.” Charles blinked at him, only faintly remembering himself complaining to Crystal about the assignment. He hadn’t even realized Edwin had been listening to that conversation. “You said you struggle with the topic. I have quite good marks in biology, I should be able to help you write that paper in no time.”
For once in his life, Charles did not have any snark or wit to answer, so he just nodded and let Edwin pull up the armchair to the desk so they could both sit, before diving head first into the paper Charles had planned to half-ass Friday evening behind the grocery register.
Studying with Edwin came with a strange mixture of awe and embarrassment. Edwin was incredibly smart. He could talk about a topic with so much conviction and excitement he actually managed to sweep Charles away in his thirst for knowledge. However, the whole experience was incredibly humbling, really highlighting all of Charles’ shortcomings to himself, even while Edwin was a patient teacher and surprisingly quick with praise.
After a while, Charles – who by now had abandoned the armchair in favor of basically hanging upside down off Edwin’s bed – threw his biology book to the side once he heard the distinct growl of his stomach. He glanced out the window, where the sun was already setting. “I’m hungry. Let’s stop for today and go raid your kitchen, mate.”
“You will not find much there, I am afraid.” Edwin stood from the desk, wandering over to his dresser. He laid a hand on one of the drawer handles and looked at Charles, his face grave serious. “Just so you know, this is my best kept secret. Better kept than my sexuality when I was still in the closet. I expect you to be discreet.”
“Mate, do you have ecstasy in your sock drawer or...?”
Edwin opened the chest and Charles sat up just in time to see Edwin push in a false panel at the back of the drawer. From this secret compartment he pulled a pack of chocolate biscuits. Charles only stared as Edwin sauntered over to him, folding himself into a neat lotus seat at the foot of the bed and opening the carton, holding it out to Charles. When he didn’t take it, Edwin shook the biscuits at him in emphasis, frowning. “I thought you were hungry.”
“Mate, this is proper sad, are you alright? Why are you hiding food in your room?”
Edwin’s face flushed like he only now realized how bad this looked. “I am not. I am hiding sugar in my room. My mother thinks almonds and lemon water are a food group. Now take a bloody biscuit, Charles.”
Charles only shook his head and stood – there was a distinct boiling sensation in his stomach he had to walk off. “Nah. Not doing this. Come on.”
Edwin blinked at him, still holding up the biscuit carton as Charles shrugged on his jacket. “Where are you going?”
“We are going out for dinner.”
“We are?”
“We are. Bloody almonds and lemon water. I’m gonna call fucking Social Care on those tossers”, Charles grumbled, faintly registering that he was angry only as he looked to Edwin, who stared at him, his face open and unsure. Charles took a deep breath, the way his mum always told him to, and put on a smile for Edwin. “Dinner, mate. I’m on first-name-basis with all the best street food vendors in London, trust me on this, we are going to feast like bloody King Charles. And after that, I’m gonna take you to my favourite ice cream shop and we are gonna tier rank all the flavours until we feel sick. You in?”
Edwin only hesitated for a moment. Then he stood with the sweetest smile on his lips. “Sounds like we have a lot to get done this evening.”
With righteous indignation, Charles took Edwin on a tour of what he considered to be the pinacle of London’s culinary art. First stop was a fish-n-chips-stand near Piccadilly. They shared a portion – “as an entrée”, Charles reasoned – and Old Frank, who had mastered the ancient craft of frying over the last fourty years, gave them an extra helping of chips with a concerned look at Edwin from under his immense reddish brows. “Ye look like the winds may blow ye over, laddy”. The fish was fried to fatty, crispy perfection and from the look of utter bliss on Edwin’s face Charles concluded that he didn’t get to have food like this often. Much to Edwin’s indignation, however, Charles insisted on paying for the food. “You are not supposed to spend money on me, Charles!”
“Oi, for any scheme-related outings you are perfectly welcome to pay. But this is friend-food and if I want to invite you, that’s my business, not yours. Now shut up and eat.”
Next, they visited the street window of Dayita’s kitchen – another one of Charles’ favourites because she made the best Tikka Masala this side of the ocean. Except for his mum’s of course. Part of him thought it would be really nice to bring Edwin home and sit him down in their colourful kitchen. His mum would certainly fret over the thin pale thing and endeavour to warm him up with all the spices and chai in her arsenal. Maybe in a different life, with a different father, Charles would dare to bring Edwin home. Or anyone, for that matter. But under realities circumstances, he settled for the brilliance of Dayita.
The older woman smiled radiantly at him as they walked up to her window, leaning outside to hug him tight and kiss his cheeks. “Charlie, where have you been?”, she chided instead of a Hello, rambling right over anything he could’ve answered. “You didn’t come by for at least two weeks. How is your mother? But wait, first food, you must be starving. Who is that boy?” Ah, she had discovered Edwin at his side who looked vaguely uncomfortable under her scrutinizing gaze. “Now that is someone who is starving. Just you wait boys, I’m gonna get you some curry and naan and–” With a last frown at Edwin. “A lot of safran rice.”
“Thank you, aunty.” Charles called after her as the woman vanished into the depths of the kitchen beyond the window.
Edwin looked at him in surprise. “Oh, she’s your aunt?”
Charles snorted, shaking his head. “Not at all, but she would still whack me over the head if I called her anything else.”
Dayita loaded them up with food that was so rich and full of spiced comfort, it tasted like home to Charles. At least like the sanctum of his mother’s kitchen his father barely entered. Edwin coughed, his cheeks growing red and Charles couldn’t help but laugh at him. “Too hot for you?”
Under Dayita’s observant eye, Edwin nodded, then shook his head. “I mean, yes, I can’t handle much spice. My mother considers black pepper to be adventurous. But this…” He stared at the piece of lasan naan in his hand, drenched in creamy red lentil sauce. “While I do not understand why one would want their food to hurt, this is simply divine.” He turned to Dayita with a bright smile Charles hadn’t seen a lot of until now. “I will try and up my spice tolerance, so I can enjoy more of your marvelous creations in the future.”
Dayita beamed at Edwin and reached out to pat his cheek, leaving the boy in utter astonishment. “You are a good boy. You hear that Charlie? Why are you never this polite?” Charles opened his mouth to protest, but Dayita just kept on talking. “You bring this boy here again, you hear me? Not in two weeks. The boy obviously needs the food.”
Charles grinned at her and nodded. “Yes, aunty. Aces.” He didn’t really know why, but having Dayita take a quick shine to Edwin warmed his heart with… pride? Whatever it was, her approval meant something.
Edwin attempted to pay again, but neither Charles nor Dayita even dignified this with any attention.
After, Charles dragged him to the next stop on their culinary tour – a Chinese spot that simply had the best fried rice one could imagine. “How can you still be hungry after all of that?”
“How can you be not? You heard Frank and Dayita aunty, you are starving.”
“I am certainly not! I’m an athlete, Charles. I have a controlled diet that covers all my nutrients.”
Horrified, Charles looked at Edwin who only seemed confused by his antics. “Mate, you sound like a bloody robot. Food is not only about nutrition. It’s… it’s culture and family and love.” Edwin only blinked at him. Bloody hell. “Right, what did your mum cook for Christmas when you were little?”
Edwin frowned. “Nothing. She hires catering for her annual Christmas Soirée.”
“What about your birthday?”
“Dinner at the Ritz.”
“Mate, you are seriously bumming me out…” Maybe Edwin’s parents were not literally starving him, but it did sound like some kind of starvation to Charles, who grew up to rely on the comforting warmth of his mother’s cooking, a manifestation of her devotion that always soothed away the worst of it all. It already stung to think about losing this connection once he moved out. He decided then and there that as long as their little scheme lasted, he would take Edwin out to eat right as often as possible. Maybe he could even wait for a night the Paynes were gone and cook for him. Charles wasn’t a great cook, but as a child he used to enjoy helping his mum in the kitchen until he got older and his dad told him it was women’s work. Like he would turn gay just because he knew how to boil water.
After two other food stops, Edwin put his foot down that he was unable to eat anymore. But still, Charles argued for their ice-cream-plan – “Puddin’ ain’t food anyway, mate” – and Edwin obliged with a good-natured smile. And that’s how they spent the evening. Sitting in Charles’ favourite ice cream shop, a lost little cubby in a corner street, and testing all the flavours they fancied. Edwin’s favourite was the strawberry. And since it tinted his lips a blushing red, it was also Charles’ favourite.
This time, however, Edwin did outsmart him and paid while he was in the bathroom. Charles gave him a scolding but couldn’t suppress his grin because Edwin looked hilariously pleased with himself.
They stayed until the shop closed and then wandered through the streets a while longer, not ready to part ways yet. As it got late, Charles demanded to escort Edwin home. “Your folks are supposed to think I’m a punk, not a bum.”
“Well, aren’t you quite the gentleman, all of a sudden.”
“Oi, I have an ambiguous reputation to uphold here, mate.” In truth, Charles simply didn’t feel like going home yet. He briefly pondered that it would be quite fitting for their ruse if he sneaked up to Edwin’s room and spent the night. Maybe climbing through the window – there was that large oak just outside the balcony. But he thought Edwin wouldn’t be too thrilled about that idea.
As they arrived at the Paynes’ townhouse, Edwin put his key into the lock, but didn’t quite open the door yet. Instead, he looked at Charles, a fond smile on his lips and his eyes somewhat shiny under the streetlights. “Thank you. For the food and… well, everything. I enjoyed it a lot.”
“No need to thank me, just doing my duty as your fake boyfriend. And actually…” His gaze wandered to the only lit window left on one of the upper floors. Did he imagine the shadow up there? “I think we should close this evening off properly, just in case your mum’s nosey.”
Edwin briefly followed his gaze and nodded, even as redness rose in his cheeks. Charles stepped closer, maneuvering Edwin against the door and leaning over him, tipping his chin up with a gentle finger. “Now, we said no kissing, that’s fine. Just trust me, okay?”
Edwin nodded slightly. His hands were flat on the wooden surface of the door in his back as if to purposefully not touch Charles. And this simply wouldn’t do, now would it? “Touch me”, Charles whispered and instantly felt heat rise to his face at the sound of those words scratching in his throat. “I mean… put your hands on my shoulders or something.”
Edwin nodded again, not making a single sound as he slid his hands over Charles’ arms and placed them gently on his shoulders, long fingers caressing the back of his neck. A shiver went through him and it took Charles a moment to regain his thoughts.
What was he supposed to do here? Oh yes.
He crowded Edwin against the door, angling his face so he could just breathe against Edwin’s neck. “Just close your eyes.” He would only have to move his head the slightest bit and his lips would make contact with Edwin’s throat. He raised a hand to Edwin’s collar, opening the blasted velvet bow that he had stared at way too often today.
“Charles…” It wasn’t really a protest, only a slight, breathless whisper. Charles grinned and he wondered if Edwin could feel it so close to his skin. “Gotta make you look something flustered, right mate?” He slipped his hand under Edwin’s jacket, pushing it off one shoulder, drawing his collar crooked in the process. Then he gently raked one hand through Edwin’s neat hair. It was softer than he thought it would be with how neat it was always styled. And the way Edwin looked up at him, his hair disheveled, some strands falling into his face with the slightest of curls – it did something to Charles. Something he didn’t quite expect despite all his joking flirtation.
“Flustered enough?” Edwin asked lowly, blinking up at him with wide eyes.
Charles swallowed hard. “Almost.”
He raised a hand to Edwin’s chin, tipping it up slightly and firmly pressing the nail of his thumb into his bottom lip that swiftly reddened like it was freshly bitten. Edwin made a tiny sound, a whimper low enough to get swept away by the evening wind. But Charles still heard him. He leaned down. The door opened – he hadn’t noticed that Edwin’s hands had left his neck and found their way to the door handle. Charles nearly stumbled, reaching out to grasp the doorframe as Edwin stepped away from him, his teeth now worrying his lip where Charles had just touched him. “Good night, Charles!”, he said, a bit too loudly.
“Yeah… good night… babe.” The door fell closed, and it felt like a bucket of ice cold water.
Chapter 3: Getting to Know You
Notes:
So… I heard about the show getting canceled and while I am heartbroken, I am not surprised. But let’s keep the lights on and the party going in the fandom, friends <3
Chapter Text
Charles Rowland was faced with an impossible conundrum. On Mrs. Payne’s tight-lipped insistence, they studied in the drawing room instead of Edwin’s bedroom. Which, on one hand, was bad, because the woman flitted in and out of the room on the regular like a beige tornado with a particularly pinched expression, which made it impossible to properly talk to Edwin. On the other hand, it was good, since the whole point of their little ruse was for the Payne’s to witness Charles and Edwin being boyfriends. So here is where things got a bit problematic for Charles: He was sitting in an antique armchair and Edwin was currently residing in his lap, his legs dangling over the armrest, as he leaned his side against Charles’ chest. He had to put his arms around Edwin, to keep him in place, as he was reading aloud from the textbook resting on his thighs and trying to explain something to Charles that was probably quite important and interesting – but Charles was hyper-aware of his hand on Edwin’s leg and Edwin, well… all over him. “Charles? Are you even listening to me?”
“Sure, babe.” He muttered. As he saw Mrs. Payne in the corner of his eye, walking past the open doorway again, he tucked his face against Edwin’s neck, his lips barely an inch from the skin just below his ear.
“What are you doing?”
He grinned and softly blew out some air, making Edwin shiver against him. Well… that was just self-sabotage if anything. “I kinda want to bite you.”
“What are you, a canine?”
“There’s a dirty joke in there somewhere.”
“Charles…” He sighed in exasperation.
With a grin, he lowered his voice, so any mothers sneaking about wouldn’t be able to hear him. “You know a hickey would really sell our story.”
Edwin adjusted himself in Charles’ lap – much to his torment. “I am sure we will manage.”
“Oi…” Charles checked the door again, but Mrs. Payne was nowhere to be seen, so he leaned back, trying to gauge Edwin’s expression. It was perfectly neutral, as it often was, but up close his eyes seemed… insecure. Which was strange, since Edwin normally held himself with nothing but confidence. “Did I make you uncomfortable the other day?” That question had pretty much rotated in his head since the last time they had met. He had gone too far, hadn’t he? While the boy incinerated Charles’ flirtatious nature, just for the sake of teasing, he obviously had crossed one of those boundaries Edwin had mentioned before. Maybe they should talk about those some more. He wondered if Edwin would surmise an itemized list of the places Charles’ hands shouldn’t go. Or maybe draw him a diagram.
Edwin looked at him, wide-eyed and very much like a kid with his hand in a cookie jar. “Excuse me?”
“When I walked you home. That whole… pretend-snogging in front of your house part.”
“I–… No, I wasn’t uncomfortable. You did nothing wrong, Charles, truly. I was simply caught off guard, that is all.”
Charles grinned. “So I fluster you, huh? Aces.”
Edwin glared, which was simply adorable since he was still lounging in Charles’ lap, looking quite comfortable with his position. “I meant that I am not accustomed to this kind of physicality.”
“What, your ex didn’t kiss you?”
Edwin’s gaze turned solemn, like always when Simon came up. Immediately, Charles wanted to take it back. “He did. He liked to quite a lot, actually. But he wasn’t…”
“Good at it?” Another glare. That was way better than that little broken frown.
“He wasn’t overtly affectionate with me, if you must know. He liked kissing me and touching me if it pleased him, but that was about it. His intimacy was more… efficient in nature rather than loving. And he certainly wouldn’t kiss me or even hold my hand in public for most of our relationship.”
Charles frowned at Edwin. “So what, he was selfish is the sack? Seriously, that tosser keeps sounding worse and worse. Why did you put up with that?”
“Not everyone is comfortable being this bold, Charles.”
“Being shy and being a cunt are two different things, mate.”
Edwin escaped a chuckle at Charles’ rudeness and he shook his head, returning his attention to the textbook once more. “You are impossible.”
“That’s why you like me.” He watched Edwin turning a page, but he wasn’t quite done with this conversation. “Do you still talk to the bloke?”
“Not if I can help it. We still have some classes together, but he isn’t a dancer, he’s a musician. Violinist. Quite accomplished too, I’m afraid. So I only see him during regular school hours. We pretty much pretend we don’t know each other. For the most part.” There was something in Edwin’s voice at the end there.
“For the most part?”
“Well…” Edwin hesitated, then shrugged like it didn’t matter. “When we first started seeing each other, we kinda kept it a secret, since we were both in the closet back then. It took us a while to be out as a couple. So we… fooled around in empty classrooms and such. Lately, he tried to initiate those encounters again. I think he just grew bored and wants somebody to … kiss.”
Somehow Charles wasn’t sure if ‘kiss’ was what Edwin had wanted to say. He frowned at him, feeling every muscle in his body tense all of a sudden. “He’s not… forcing you into anything, right?”
With a slight smile, Edwin placed a placating hand on his chest and it did wonders to drown out the alarm bells in his head. “Of course not, Charles. I am quite capable of evading his advances.”
“You shouldn’t have to evade shit when you’re at school! Want me to scare him off?”
Edwin arched a brow at him, unimpressed. “Do be serious, Charles.”
“I am!” Quite involuntarily, his arms tightened around Edwin, pulling him just a bit closer – and if Edwin noticed, he didn’t react to it. “I don’t want that wanker around you if he’s being a creep.”
Edwin only rolled his eyes and Charles couldn’t help but think back to how nonchalant he had been about the biscuit-issue. How Edwin didn’t seem to care that much about or didn’t even recognize things hurting him. “And what do you propose we do about it?”
“So, you know how I’m on my school’s cricket team? I have a bat or two lying around…”
“You would be arrested, Charles.”
“Well… then let me pick you up from school on Monday. We can do our boyfriends-schtick, you point him out to me so I can glare in his direction and maybe he will back off. Sometimes fuckers like that, who don’t take a simple No for an answer, get the message when they see another bloke is involved. It’s some toxic-ass lad-bullshit, but it might work. And if it doesn’t, we will revisit the cricket bat idea.”
Edwin sighed, blinking at him and Charles was suddenly overly aware of his eyes. They were an interesting blueish green. Pretty. “You will not let this go, will you?”
Charles tried a smile, just to dissipate the real tension that had built itself up in his shoulders over this conversation. “Oi, some tosser’s trying to get into my boyfriend’s pants.”
“Well… if you must.”
“You know what would probably help to get the message across?”
“What?”
“A hickey.”
“CHARLES!”
Later that same day, they met up with the girls – or rather, Edwin met up with Niko to get coffee before an evening practice and Charles and Crystal just tagged along like the plus-ones they were. Strolling into a small, cozy café just around the corner of the Academy, they found Niko and Crystal already at a table with a colourful frappé for the former and an enormous cup of black coffee for the latter. Charles put Edwin’s sportsbag down next to his chair and asked “Black? No, not before practice, right? Lemon water”, getting a slight nod in answer before walking up to the counter. Upon returning with their orders – chai latte for him, aforementioned lemon water for Edwin, plus a blueberry scone in a paper bag he firmly put right in front of him “for after practice”, before the other could protest –, he found himself in the middle of Edwin explaining their boyfriend-scheme to the girls. He was a bit surprised but more so relieved – he wasn’t quite sure how he could’ve kept all that weirdness a secret from Crystal. Speaking of Crystal, she currently looked at him like he was a raving madman. “You can’t be serious. What kind of 2000s rom-com bullshit is this?”
Charles shrugged. “Why not? It’s a good bit of fun, innit?”
“Until Edwin’s old man finds a reason to get you arrested or something. Full offense, Edwin.”
“I gathered as much.”
Holding up his hands in a placating manner towards both Crystal and Edwin, Charles tried to keep things civil – they often weren’t between these two. “Oi, that’s not gonna happen, is it? I’m not doing anything illegal, I’m just being a bit of a knob.”
“Something he quite excels at, I must say.”
Charles grinned at Edwin, admittedly preening a bit. “Aw, thanks mate!”
Edwin rolled his eyes at him – a gesture Charles had picked up on as conveying fondness rather than exasperation. At least he sincerely hoped it did.
“I think it’s a great idea”, Niko chimed in with a dreamy smile – Charles knew that expression and it often meant her mind was wandering to very X-rated topics. “You will have to be careful, though. In stories like this, people always catch real feelings along the way. It’s all that pretend intimacy…”
“I can guarante you, Niko, that will not be an issue”, Edwin stated dryly and Charles pouted at him. “Rude.”
With a sigh Edwin turned his attention back on Crystal, whose face was still a mask of particularly bitchy stone. “Do not worry, Crystal. I will keep Charles from accomplishing anything bigger than a social faux pax. Our ruse doesn’t include any actual theft. We are only taking advantage of my parents’ inability to behave like actual people.”
“That’s rich coming from you.” Edwin sniffed at her, indignantly, but Crystal cut him off before he could muster any comeback – which was honestly impressive. “What, you’re going to drag him to all the bullshit events in your social calendar, so he can make a fool out of himself in front of racist old-money assholes? Is that your plan?”
Edwin stiffened a bit, his hands balling into fists, pressing into each other – another gesture Charles had deciphered by now. Crystal’s brashness had unnerved him. “That is in no way my intention. I will keep him away from the old guard and will not accept any ill word towards Charles from anyone.”
Charles held up a hand like he was in class. “Sorry, what’s the ‘old guard’?”
“He means the rich old white men that populate his family’s social circle”, Crystal huffed, crossing her arms.
“Do you think I enjoy these people?”
There was something sharp in Edwin’s tone that made Crystal tense. This was quickly getting out of hand. “What do you even want to achieve with that whole scheme?”
Edwin took a deep breath, folding his hands in a triangle-motion Charles read as a move to center himself. “All my life I have been an utter embarrassment to my parents but they want me to succeed anyway. If I had to become a dancer rather than a cricket player, I shall do so in the best schools and become a professional. If I had to be gay, I had better date someone from an important and wealthy family and render myself a trophy-husband. I… do not wish to live like this any longer.”
Crystal narrowed her eyes at him. “…That’s fucked up, dude.”
“It is indeed. I think I would look rather daft as someone’s mantle-piece.” With another deep breath, Edwin let his hands sink, looking at Crystal with stern decision. “I know I am unable to understand the specific hostility you, Charles and Niko face every day. But I grew up quite aware of what disgust looks like on the faces of your peers and the people your parents call their friends and mentors. I appreciate your concern for Charles, Crystal – I really do. He is your best friend, you want to protect him and I get that. But please acknowledge that I’ve also come to… care for that– that ridiculous boy.”
As Charles blinked, mouth falling open and asking himself why ‘that ridiculous boy’ sounded so nice to him, Crystal and Edwin were caught in a staring match, the gravitas only lessened by the gurgling of Niko’s straw.
Finally, after what seemed like minutes, Crystal shrugged, leaning back in her chair. “Fine.”
Relief rushed through Charles and he felt a bit miffed about that fact. Crystal was not the boss of him – but she kinda was though, so having her blessing for the shenanigans was great. “Thanks, Crys.” He slung an arm around her shoulders, holding her tight even as she rolled her eyes at him – huh, something her and Edwin had in common. Better not examine that too much. “I knew you would get around to it. You’re the best mate ever after all.” He grinned and nudged Edwin with his elbow. “Although Edwin might give you a run for your money recently. You know, since there’s literal money involved.”
Edwin gave him one of his most wicked smiles. “Now, do not get ahead of yourself, Charles Rowland. A promotion from boyfriend to best friend seems a bit rushed in these early days of our relationship. I fear I might not be able to handle such commitment.”
“Yeah, you’re right, mate. Let’s just get back to snogging.” As Charles leaned over, lips cartoonishly pursed, Edwin laughed – one of those special real laughs Charles was starting to collect like shiny trinkets to keep – and shoved him away.
They didn’t see the girls sharing meaningful looks over their coffee cups.
After leaving Edwin and Niko at the Academy, Charles walked Crystal home as he often did. The familiar path, the way he had to slow his pace to stay right next to her, soothed away a certain tenseness he had felt over the last few days that had confronted him with so many new things.
“I can’t believe you are dating Edwin Payne of all people.” Welcome back, tenseness. The two minutes without you were nice.
“I’m not. It’s just pretend, innit?”
Crystal’s glare hit him like a missile. “You carry his bag around!”
“So what, I’m helpful!”
“Don’t bullshit me, Rowland, I know your moves! Your flirting is about thirty percent just carrying shit.”
“It’s fucking not!”
“I saw you move a fridge by yourself to impress a girl!”
“Oi, she was moving and her dad had a bad back!”
“You rearranged my whole room for me when you tried to get in my pants!”
“And it did not work, so you can’t really count it!”
She raised a bitchy brow at him. Maybe her and Edwin were more similar than he thought. He should not tell her that, ever. “You totally can. And what about the rest of your doting?”
Charles stared at her with open-mouthed incredulity. “Doting?!”
She began counting off on her fingers as if constructing an argument for a debate. “You make sure he eats, you bring him water with fucking lemon, and you just stare at him like an absolute weirdo while he rants at you about ballet and shit! Not to mention you are pretending to be his boyfriend, just because he asked you to!”
To his dismay, Charles found himself sputtering. “I–… I’m an attentive friend! Look, you didn’t meet his parents, they are so shit. He needs a friend to look out for him.”
“Dude, this whole ruse is gonna bite you in the ass so hard.”
“Well, I wouldn’t mind if he–“
“Don’t! That’s exactly what I mean. You already have the hots for him.”
Dimly, Charles wondered if he could dislodge an eye by rolling it too hard. “That doesn’t mean shit, I also had the hots for you and we are friends.” They arrived at her house then – one of the more modern buildings in London, made almost entirely of glass and shiny metal and towering up into the penthouse that was mostly occupied by Crystal alone, since her parents were usually gone on business trips and general neglect. They walked in, Crystal nodding to a concierge she probably saw more regularly than her parents. Only once in the elevator did Charles pick up the conversation again – he didn’t like the lobby with its glossy black leather seats and glass tables for visitors. He always felt a bit smudgy and way too loud in these high-shine surroundings. “So what if I think he’s adorable when he’s flustered? Wanting to shag someone is not the same as, like... fancying someone.”
Crystal sighed. Patience was visibly draining out of her by the minute. “Sure. Until you’re knee-deep in the passenger seat and–”
“Oi, don’t quote Chappell Roan at me!”
“I will as long as you are being a fuckboy!”
“I am very much un-fuckboy-ish right now! I’m out here trying to get paid to not get into his pants.”
“So you’re an anti-sexworker?”
He glared, but that only resulted in her laughing in his face. Charles had the sudden urge to rub his temples – there was that migraine creeping up again. “Look, even if I fancied him, he’s obviously not into me, you heard him. It’s not like he's gonna date a guy he thinks is enough of a screw-up to scare his parents. And he’s probably still hung up on that asshole ex of his anyway. I could look him straight in the face and say ‘I want to kiss you’ and he’d only raise his stupid sexy eyebrow at me. Fucking hell, that actually happened the other day!”
“… did you just call his eyebrows sexy?”
On Saturday, per Edwin’s instructions, Charles arrived fifteen minutes late at the tea salon, just to start things off on the wrong foot from the get-go. “My mother values two things in a man”, Edwin had stated. “Punctuality and a trustfund.” Thus, Charles was late and dressed in pants he usually wore when helping out his dad in the garage to dissipate any notion about him possessing either one of those things.
The tea salon was actually located in one of London’s oldest hotels, illuminated by Swarovski chandeliers and decorated to induce a tooth-ache in Charles specifically. Everything from the décor to the patrons was cream and gold, with subtle pastel shades in the midst and he was pretty sure he looked like a personified motor-oil stain on the hundred year old carpet right now.
“Charles!” He turned to see Edwin quickly walking towards him, his hands already in nervous fists. He wore a soft, cream coloured jumper today with pearls embroidered around a v-collar that exposed a hint of his clavicle and maybe Charles was way too preoccupied with that fact, because now Edwin stood before him and stared at him. He had probably said hello or something. With a brief glance over Edwin’s shoulder to the beacon of contempt that was Mrs. Payne, sitting at one of the tables and watching them with a pinched expression (by now he wondered if that was simply her neutral face and felt a bit bad about judging her for it), Charles placed a hand on the small of Edwin’s back to draw him in. “Hey, sweetness! Dreamed about you last night. Gonna tell you all about it once we’re alone.” He wiggled his brows at Edwin, who shot him a deadpan look before leaning in, placing a hand on Charles’ chest and – bloody hell – kissing him on the cheek. It was maybe less of a kiss and more of a lingering of his lips against Charles’ skin, but it was so unexpected it kinda threw off his internal balance and he unwittingly tightened his grip on Edwin.
“Sweetness, really?” Edwin murmured and Charles could feel his lips moving. He tried not to panic about that. “Don’t like it?”
“There is certainly nothing sweet about me, Charles.”
He grinned, trying to regain his composure. “And yet I’m still waiting for you to give me some sugar.” As usual, his composure was that of a quite colourful individual with big shoes and a red nose.
Edwin looked deeply unimpressed. “Mmh, you know what’s also sweet?”
“Me?”
“Potassium cyanide.”
“Always knew you were a black widow at heart.”
“I only want you for your comic-book collection.”
“Some men have gold diggers, I can barely swing a paper digger.”
“Boys!” They looked up. Mrs. Payne was watching them, raising an expectant brow that made her look very much like her son. Charles realized that they were still standing flush against each other, waiters circling around them, and suppressed the urge to spring away from Edwin like they were schoolboys caught playing doctor. Instead, he simply grinned at Mrs. Payne and called towards her “You know, you could always go ahead and order your tea. We’re gonna catch up in... what do you think, babe? Twenty minutes? We can be quick.”
While his mother sputtered into nothingness, Edwin rolled his eyes and took his hand. Charles laced their fingers together, causing Edwin to give him a strange look, but he didn’t comment in favor of leading Charles towards the table. As they walked, Charles realized there now was a motor-oil smear on Edwin’s trousers, right where he had brushed a knee against Charles’. Oh well...
His behind barely touched the plush cushion of his chair before a waiter in impeccable uniform manifested himself next to Mrs. Payne – who, in celebration of the weekend, had traded her beigeness for an overall mauve appearance – and took her order for tea. Having fulfilled his duty, he swiftly vanished into the void of the tea parlour and Edwin’s mother turned her attention towards Charles. Suddenly, he felt quite like a rabbit faced with an especially dignified hawk. “So... Charles.” It was remarkable how much his name sounded like get away from my son when she pronounced it. “It is so nice of you to join us. Eventually.”
“Yeah, had to help my old man in the shop, you know how it is.”
Her brow twitched in a way that deftly conveyed that she did not know how it was at all. Truly, this whole family mastered the art of the very chatty eyebrows. “How dutiful of you… Now, we hadn’t had much time to chat before.” Because you nearly had a heart attack when you first saw me, but okay. “I am so glad Edwin brought you to our weekly tea, so we can get to know each other.”
Charley glanced towards Edwin. “You have tea with your mum every Saturday?”
Edwin watched his mother with a dangerously smooth expression as he answered. “She has tea with friends from her benefit committee every Saturday. The children are expected to tag along – a sort of indoctrination into the philanthropic work of their parents, you understand. However, today my mother was so kind as to cancel the meeting.”
Mrs. Payne’s smile did not betray any emotion. “I wanted to give you and your boyfriend my full attention.”
Charles shot Edwin a look. So she didn’t want her fancy friends to see me. Edwin pursed his lips in confirmation. Apparently Edwin didn’t get his scheming from his fathers side.
Folding her hands in her lap, Mrs. Payne granted Charles a brilliant smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “So, dear Charles. How did you meet our Edwin?”
With a sly I told you so grin towards Edwin, who conceded with a fine you win eyeroll, Charles launched into a dramatic retelling of the meet-cute they had dreamed up after leaving the British Library. Although this version contained way more cursing, for Mrs. Payne’s benefit. By the time he was finished, tea had already arrived and Charles had spoken the last few sentences through a mouth full of cake neither Mrs. Payne nor Edwin touched.
“Well”, Mrs. Payne wrinkled her nose at him as she watched him chew with exaggerated gusto. “Isn’t that quite the charming story.”
“Yeah, I really got lucky on that one. You rarely come across a catch such as Edwin. He’s just so cute and clever and open to confront things outside his comfort zone.” Without breaking eye-contact with Mrs. Payne, Charles picked up a cucumber sandwich and shoved it in his mouth in one go, chewing with even more dramatic vigor. To his dismay, it was delicious.
“I was thinking, mother”, Edwin intervened, setting down his cup with such gentle precision it didn’t even clink on its saucer. “I would like Charles to accompany us to Ascot next Sunday. I am sure it will be a great opportunity for father to get to know him a bit better too.”
Mrs. Payne shot her son a dark look. “I don’t know if that would be appropriate, dear.”
“Why wouldn’t it be?”, Edwin asked, an innocent smile on his lips.
“You know how your father doesn’t want to be disturbed during the race.”
“Good thing Charles is not a disturbing person. I am sure he is perfectly suited to look at a racetrack and wonder which horse will be the fastest.”
Mrs. Payne’s huff indicated that Edwin had won that round, but quickly her expression turned cunning as she turned to Charles, who had followed the exchange like a tennis match. “Well... I take it you will escort my dear Edwin to Diamond Party then?”
Edwin nearly choked on his tea. Charles furrowed his brow at him. “The what now?”
Clearing his throat, Edwin took a moment to answer. “The Diamond Party. It is actually called the Deamon Benefit Ball. An incredibly dull event for socialites and trustfund-babies to mingle and douse themselves in Champagne worth more than half my book collection. It is fucking daft, to be frank.”
“Language, darling.” Edwin flinched, pressing his lips together, and Charles couldn’t blame him. Mrs. Paynes voice carried the same energy as his father’s belt. Charles decided to teach Edwin as many curse words as possible, both in English and Hindi. And hell, maybe he should pick up a third language just to widen the roster. “It is a highly exclusive social event for the younger generation of London’s most important families”, Mrs. Payne carried on, leveling her son with a calculating smile. “It is only a month from now, and you have yet to determine a plus one.”
“I will not–”
“Of course I will go with you, babe!” Charles quickly slung an arm around Edwin, his thumb drawing circles on his shoulder in an effort to sooth his tension. “What, you don’t want me to go to a fancy party? You embarrassed about me or somthin’?”
Edwin took a deep breath, before giving Charles a smile that looked like it hurt his teeth. “Of course not. I would be delighted if you’d do me the honor of escorting me to the Diamond Party.”
Charles grinned, leaning towards him to brush his lips against Edwin’s ear. “Good boy.” It only took a fraction of a second for Edwin’s heel to get intimately acquainted with Charles’ shin.
Leaving the tearoom, Charles was surprised to hear Edwin say goodbye to his mother. “Charles and I have plans.”
She didn’t comment, her hand only briefly brushing Edwin’s shoulder as she gave a cool nod to Charles. “Be home for dinner, dear.”
“Of course, mother.” And off she went. Didn’t even hug her son in parting.
Before Charles could ask what kind of plans they were supposed to have, Edwin turned towards him with a frown. “I am… quite sorry, Charles.”
Charles blinked at him. “Huh?”
“The Diamond Party was one of the events I was hoping you could avoid. My parents will not attend, thus it would be quite unnecessary for you to go through the effort of dealing with these… people.” He crossed his arms with a look of utter distaste on his face. “Obviously, my mother thinks it will be a humbling experience for the both of us…”
For a boy like Charles, who only ever experienced his own mother as the kindest, most loving person on the planet – her hand warm on his cheek, her voice soft when she talked to him, her eyes bright when she looked at him – it was quite horrifying to realize that Edwin seemed to be in an outright social war with Mrs. Payne. So he tried to steer the conversation in a different direction. “Why is this thing even called the Diamond Party?”
“Because the family sponsoring the event is actually in the diamond trade. Horrible people, really. I wouldn’t go if my father wasn’t in business with them.”
“Oi, if you need to go anyway to network for your parents, wouldn’t it be nice to have someone to keep you company?”
“Well… it might be. But let me warn you, this ball is truly the epitome of upper-class fuckwittery. A bunch of young people with way too much money and way too much alcohol. It’s obnoxious before they even take your coat.”
“Come on, I’m sure we can have a bit of fun, right?” He nudged Edwin, not able to help his grin when Edwin actually smiled at him. “Gonna raise a bit of hell for them, why don’t we?”
“Oh well… fine. If you are truly okay with it… it does sound fun to have a friend with me.”
“Now that’s a lad!”
“We must go shopping for a proper suit at once.”
Oh. Oh, he should have seen that coming. “Is that really necessary? If that diamond thing is in a month, why is it so urgent that I get a suit right this minute?”
Edwin looked at him like he was crazy. “Charles, the Diamond Party is the biggest social event of the year. I will not parade you in front of photographers and all the vultures I begrudgingly call my acquaintances in an ill-fitting suit. It is bad enough we have to go off the rack because of the limited time. The least I can do is get the thing properly fitted for you. I will not have you look anything other than dashing in front of Vogue!”
Charles stared at him. For a boy born into wealth, Edwin had never seemed materialistic to him – at least when it came to things other than books. But then again, he was always impeccably dressed in things Charles only recognized as expensive because they often seemed simply alien to him.
Apparently, Edwin too had grown proficient in reading Charles’ expressions with concerning swiftness – nothing less was to be expected of a genius like him. With a sigh, he smoothed the look of indignation off his face and took his arm – a simple soothing gesture Charles had to wonder about. How did they get here? “Don’t misunderstand me, Charles. You are devastatingly handsome no matter what you wear. But where I come from, clothing is to be considered as battle armor. Fashion talks, it tells a story, it makes a man as much as his manners do. Now, you know I adore your manners and selective lack thereof and I appreciate your sense of personal style. We shall find something that feels like you. Something to arm you with for this particular battlefield. I simply ask you to trust me on this, will you?”
Edwin blinked at him – or did he actually flutter his lashes? No, that was crazy. Still, Charles felt his irritation about the whole suit business melt away like candle-wax. In the back of his mind he recognized that Edwin was pretty much hustling him into giving in. But right then, with a beautiful boy on his arm calling him ‘devastatingly handsome’, all innocent eyes and aforementioned lashes, he just felt, well... melty. Sue him. “Fine. But I swear to god, if this is turning into some She's All That bullshit...”
“I never know what you are talking about, Charles.”
So Edwin bought him a suit. The store they went to was so posh that it made Charles’ skin itch, even as Edwin had swept into the boutique with the command of a pop diva, an attendant rushing right up to him and eagerly calling him by ‘Mr. Payne’ as they vanished into the depths of the clothing racks. A guy with the face and countenance of a rat followed Charles around suspiciously as he took in the displays. He wanted to make a Pretty Woman joke, but the rodent-man didn’t look like he’d appreciate the comment. It took only a few minutes for Edwin to appear back at his side, the attendant just a step behind him. “Dear George here put our selection into a dressing room for you. Did you see anything you liked?”
“Seriously, mate, I don’t think this is a good idea. I bloody hate suits. And I don’t think I can even afford the air in here.”
“Remember the talk about armor we just had? And trusting me?” He patted Charles arm and then ushered him deeper into the store, George scrambling after them with a kind of panicked glance to the rat-man. “As for the money, don’t worry about it. This is a scheme-related expense, thus we shall put it on my account. My parents won’t even notice. And if they do, all the better.”
The dressing room was an actual room, not just a cubical with a curtain and that was all Charles needed to feel unnerved. George left them after placing a bottle of sparkling water and glasses on a shiny black coffee table accompanying two plush armchairs. There was a clothing rack with several suits and shirts placed behind a screen Edwin ordered him to, while he himself sat on one of the armchairs and waited for the fashion show to begin.
As he donned the first suit, Charles glanced at a full-length mirror and instantly had the crystal-clear vision of a penguin on thin ice. Leaving the comfort of the screen, he presented himself to Edwin. “The rain in Spain falls mainly in the plane – or something like that.”
Edwin blinked at him. “I think the wettest part of Spain is Galicia, actually. Also, do take this off, you look like the garment is physically torturing you.”
It took a while to find something Charles didn’t feel ridiculous, fake or stifled in. To distract himself from the ever growing pile of rejected clothing, he spoke up behind the screen. “Why do you dance?”
A moment of silence. “That’s a strange question to ask.”
“Is it?”
“Well... maybe not. People often seem surprised when they hear I’m a dancer. They think I am too dry of a person for such a thing.”
Charles couldn’t stifle a snort. “You are not dry. You’re a bitch-ass bastard, that you are.”
Edwin chuckled, taking it as the compliment it was intended to be. It was true. Edwin Payne had more heat than he led on. It was easy to imagine him cutting into his passions with the genius precision of a scalpel. “So why ballet then?”
Edwin took some time to think about that as Charles struggled with the buttons of a particularly silky shirt. He kinda liked this one. “I guess... in the beginning... it was about control. It seemed to me an effective way to learn how to harness my body.”
“In the beginning? Didn’t you say you started at like, six years old?” Another bout of silence. Suddenly, Charles felt cold all over. “Oh.”
“It wasn’t as bad as it sounds. I used to be a very bookish child. I was unable to perform satisfactory in any of the sports my father could relate to. So my body seemed to me only a means of transporting my brain from one place to another. But then one Christmas, my parents took me to see the Nutcracker and... there was beautiful music and everything was so colourful and the dancers seemed so... perfect. So in tune with their bodies and still in control of every single muscle. I wanted to be like them."
Charles had to bite his lip. If a boy like Edwin Payne – pretty, poised, multi-talented Edwin Payne – didn’t consider himself perfect… where did that leave the rest of humanity?
“Then later, after years of training, I realized… while ballet is indeed a lot about control, there is a point at which you need to let go. When executing a pirouette, there is a split moment in which your body is simply a slave to physics. No matter how precise you school every movement... you can’t do anything other than... hope you don’t fall.”
“…Sounds scary.”
“It is. It was. But it is also…” He hesitated. “It feels like flying.”
At this point, Charles left his spot behind the screen. He had been standing there for a while longer, already fully dressed, just listening to Edwin’s voice, wondering if he would still have told him these things if they had looked at each other.
“What do you think?” The suit he was wearing now was one of Edwin’s choices – slim and sleek black with satin accents and a deep burgundy dress shirt to go along with it. Charles grinned and opened his arms, giving Edwin a turn to show off the ensemble. “Do I look like an Indian James Bond or what?”
Edwin’s smile was slight and – hopefully – appreciative. “I must say you look quite dashing in a suit, Charles. Indecently so. Although that seems to be a matter of the man, not the clothing.”
“Is that your way of calling me hot?”
“Do not push your luck.”
He snickered, glancing towards the mirror. “Should I get a fancy tie or something?”
Edwin looked at him with the concerning gaze of someone considering a painting. It was strange, having his eyes roam over Charles’ body. It somehow made him aware of how hot the dressing room was. “No, I don’t think so.” Then he stood and walked up to him. Charles blinked at his sudden proximity. His brain might’ve short-circuited as Edwin raised a hand to his collar and undid the first two buttons before draping Charles’ chain at his collarbone to his liking. “Better. We would hate to make you look too proper, right?”
Charles’ mouth was suddenly dry as a desert. He felt himself nod. “Yeah... yeah, we would be proper pissed about that.” He cleared his throat as Edwin took a step back, clearly pleased with himself. “So um... should we look for a suit for you?”
“No need, I’ve already got my outfit tailored weeks ago.”
“Of course you have.”
“Get changed, Charles. We will need to get you some appropriate shoes to go with the suit. Oxfords, I suppose– no, that’s just boring. Let’s get you some classic Dr. Martens. Oh, and proper cuff-links. And maybe a coat, in case it gets chilly in the evening.” He gave Charles a quirk of his lips and an elegantly raised eyebrow. Devious. Wicked. “I am in a mood to waste some of my parents’ money.”
This guy would be the death of him.
Chapter 4: Meeting the Ex
Notes:
Trigger warning: This chapter will include mentions and implications of bullying, psychological abuse and dubious consent. Nothing graphic or explicit will be described.
If you struggle with these topics, feel free to skip this chapter or parts of it, no hard feelings – be kind to yourself. However, since this is supposed to be a warm love story, we are putting the focus on the COMFORT part of Hurt/Comfort and there will certainly still be fun and games.
Just to explain: Our boy Edwin wouldn’t be our boy without the trauma, so this one gets a bit dark at some points. In this AU Simon takes on his canonical role as bully with a metric fuck-ton of internalized homophobia – but beyond that, the abusive relationship portrayed here is used as a stand-in for the trauma Edwin faced in hell.
On another, way less serious note: I don’t know shit about horse racing. I am aware, that the fancy Ascot races are actually in June and this story is vaguely set in early autumn… I don’t care, just vibe with me here, people.
Last note: Edwin is much more verbose than Charles, so yeah… this one got away from me a bit.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Edwin Payne would go to hell.
If all the homosexuality didn’t do the trick, devising a scheme to basically con his own parents and managing to rope in the nicest boy in existence certainly would.
And oh, that boy.
At first impressions, Edwin had been quite cautious of him. In his experience, other people and especially other boys his age, did not care for him one bit. But he quickly learned that Charles Rowland did care – about anyone and anything. He was one of those people who seemed to flirt every word he said, like it was his default setting, but without seeming insincere or gross about it. In the weeks before their ruse started, Edwin had watched him charm his way through London, leaving a string of swooning girls in his path. That was basically why Edwin had chosen him for the scheme in the first place – he seemed sensibly harmless for someone with trousers that distressed and perfectly charismatic enough to fake being in love. After all, he pretty much always seemed half-smitten with anyone he talked to. It was a gift of his – when Charles Rowland focused his warm brown eyes on you, it was quite impossible not to feel like the most important person in the room.
However, Edwin had not seen the friendship coming. Yes, dear Niko seemed delighted by Charles, but she was easily pleased. Edwin had once seen her cheer on a particularly slow bug.
Charles’ friendly and/or romantic entanglement with one Crystal Palace Surname-van-Hovercraft was neither a con nor a pro for him, since Edwin’s only impression of her was that she held eons of indignation neatly compressed in a comparatively tiny body – a virtue he both despised and appreciated.
Still, in the beginning, he had not really seen himself becoming friends with Charles. Not because of Charles, no, but because of himself. Before Niko had simply gathered him up like a stray kitten and declared ownership over him before he could scratch her, Edwin didn’t really have friends. He didn’t dofriends, since he wasn’t any good at it as experience showed. He was always either too silent or too talkative. Too cold or too soft. Too much or simply not enough. There had to have been a moment in which he had been friends with Simon, he supposed, before they started kissing. But it had been such a small sliver of time, it barely registered anymore and after all that happened, it seemed quite unrealistic. Like maybe he made himself think that they were friends to bridge the shameful gap between Simon calling him names and Simon biting his lip in a cupboard. So… Edwin didn’t do friends. But apparently Charles did. Proficiently so.
With quiet curiosity, Edwin watched as he quickly adopted deeply caring behaviour towards him and that too fit into the picture Edwin had of Charles. He saw something vulnerable in Edwin – maybe even something pathetic in the way he lived his life and the contempt his parents had for him – and he swiftly appointed himself Edwin’s guardian. He carried his bag and made sure he ate and drank enough and held him closer to comfort him and promised to threaten a pesky ex-boyfriend with a bat. Of course gloriously sunny, perfectly smiley and irritatingly good-natured, pure-hearted Charles Rowland would be a protector.
After getting used to his brash humour and finding Charles solid enough to take Edwin’s snide sarcasm not only in stride but with delight, Edwin felt himself slowly getting … not comfortable, but comforted. And wasn’t that odd? With a fierce grin and deft hands, Charles seemed always ready to hold anything Edwin gave him, including Edwin himself. And in the debut role of pretend-boyfriend, his smile turned sly, his eyes dark and his grip on Edwin’s waist sure and steadying. Charles liked to get Edwin flustered – to lean in close to his ear and let his breath graze Edwin’s throat. To say insane things like I want to bite you with the most casual voice.
Yes, Edwin was going to hell.
But until then, what harm was there in a little crush on a friend? After all, he wasn’t the first gay guy to find himself a bit smitten with a straight man – by a long shot. Perhaps pathetically so, this simple infatuation felt safe to Edwin, rather than hopeless. He could luxuriate in the friendly attention Charles heaped upon him (apparently that boy had an infinite amount of affection to give and nowhere to put it), without worrying where things would lead to – because there was nowhere for them to lead. He could wistfully accept Charles’ flirtation without fear of not being up to par, because there were no expectations. As long as Charles wasn’t uncomfortable, all was well.
And Edwin had never met someone as comfortable in his masculinity as Charles Rowland. He wasn’t like Simon, who took great offense to his sexuality for the longest time. Who had always felt the need to prove himself superior to anyone, especially Edwin.
To be clear, Edwin was aware that he was quite effeminate – always had been, and after years of living in self-disgust and turning the issue over and over in his head until it was smooth like a river pebble, he now was quite comfortable with it. He liked the finer things in life, he didn’t subscribe to brutish ideals of masculinity and there might be a skirt hidden away in the back of his closet he didn’t wear to spare his father’s blood pressure. Nowadays, as a rule, gender didn’t seem of much consequence to Edwin’s identity at all. He wasn’t male so much by choice, fate or inclination, but simply by chance and he felt no need to mull about it any longer than he already had. Had he been born female, he probably would’ve felt just as indifferent about it at this point. Maybe he would appreciate the wider fashion selections, but that was about it.
To Simon, however, gender was quite important. He needed to prove himself ‘the man’ in the relationship. Maybe that’s why he chose me, Edwin had sometimes thought. And he had felt quite sick about that. Because those were the very traits Simon himself and other boys had tormented him about for years…
Not Charles Rowland, though. Not jokes about kissing you, drapes himself all over you, whispers in your ear and calls you ‘sweetness’ Charles Rowland. A tiny, brazen part of Edwin thought that Charles would appreciate the aforementioned skirt – he would probably turn out to be its biggest hype-man, just to make Edwin happy and comfortable in his own skin. And he would still call him ‘mate’ and have no issue with it. But that was a thought for quite another day.
Because today was Monday – the day Edwin had marked in his mental calendar only as ‘DANGER’. Charles, in his fierce protective spirit, had decided to pick Edwin up from school and get a good look at Simon in the process. Edwin had not been a fan of the idea, but by now he knew what the set of Charles’ jaw looked like whenever he was keen on something, so he relented. There are worse things in life than a beautiful boy wanting to play your knight in shining armor. Let the man play as long as he liked.
Still, standing in the dance studio, holding on to the bar during warm-up and letting his muscle memory take over for his body to perform the same routine repetitions it had done for the past twelve years, Edwin’s mind was free to roam over all the possibilities this could go horribly wrong.
“You look kind of pale”, Niko said from her spot in front of him, shooting him a look in the mirror to their right. “Are you going to be sick?”
“Of course not, Niko. I am perfectly fine.”
“Are you nervous because Charles is picking you up today?” That girl was way too observant for her own good.
“Well… somewhat, yes”, he admitted, not without cringing about it. “I am… a bit worried things with Simon will escalate. Not because of Charles, of course not. But Simon… he’s just…”
“An asshole?”
Edwin sighed. Deeply. “Yes.”
“Don’t worry.” Niko’s voice was so cloudy and soft. The perfect cadence to calm Edwin’s racing mind and burning nerves with only a few words. It was one of his many favourite things about her. “Charles will look out for you. He’s just like that – a good guy. A good… friend.” The way she said ‘friend’, accompanied by the meaningful look in her reflection’s eye implied a multitude of probable other words that could take its place.
Edwin decided to play dumb. “He certainly is.”
“Edwin …” Sadly, he wasn’t any good at that game. And Niko knew it. “You know it would be alright if you liked him. Like… like-liked him.”
“What a horrible day for the English language.”
“But still true.”
Edwin sighed as they both turned at the bar in unison to exercise their other side. Now he felt Niko’s eyes directly on his neck. And they knew things. So he conceded – at least a little. “Charles is quite the charming person. And he’s… handsome. And funny. It would be… inhumane of me not to appreciate those things about him.”
“Anything else you’d like to appreciate about him.”
For maybe the first time in years, Edwin lost his rhythm, suddenly feeling quite wobbly on his usually trusted feet. “Excuse me?”
Instantly the harsh voice of Madame Night bellowed through the studio. “Payne, focus! This isn’t like you!”
“Yes ma’am!” He frowned at himself in the mirror, adjusting his form. He was sickling his feet. He hadn’t sickling his feet since he was eight years old. The reflection of his teacher shot him a scorching look.
Madame Night was a woman of Scottish descent, Russian training and French manicure, making her the most fearsome and sought after dance instructor in the country. When Edwin had first met her, she seemed to him like the human approximation of the word severe. Though he was soon to learn she was more of a tyrannical.
Natalie, the slender red-head in front of Edwin, shot him a devious smile over her shoulder. God, that little tart tended to file at his nerves with her unfortunately perfect stiletto nails she got chided for by Madame Night at least once a week. She was just waiting to see him fail. He focused on the tracks of her amateurishly installed extensions to calm his irritation.
Niko picked up their conversation like nothing had disrupted them. “Wouldn’t you want to kiss him?”
“That would be quite inappropriate given our circumstances.”
“You didn’t answer the question, Edwin.” He had had this very conversation with Charles at the British Library. Sadly, Niko had a way easier time reading Edwin and calling him on his evasive bullshit.
“Well… maybe I would. But that doesn’t matter. Thinking someone is good looking, wanting to kiss someone, is simply a physical desire. Nothing more.”
“Also nothing less.”
“You know how I hate it when you go philosophical on me.”
“I’m just saying: If you want to kiss him, that’s okay. And maybe he would like that too.”
Edwin rolled his eyes. Niko and her infinite optimism. “I don’t think so, Niko. I’m not his type and you know that.” A fact he was quite aware of himself, sometimes overly so, since he needed to keep it at the forefront of his mind whenever Charles looked at him with those soft, liquid eyes of his or when his thumb grazed that spot on Edwin’s lower back that shot a raging symphony of tingles up his spine.
Niko opened her mouth to answer, a slight frown on her face, but at this point Madame Night called them to attention for their ré pertoire class to begin.
After class, Edwin hurried to get showered and dressed, but when he checked the time he still cringed. He and Niko had taken a few minutes to help out one of the younger dancers, which had quickly turned into twenty minutes. Charles would probably arrive soon and Edwin had to choose between doing his hair and letting him wait. Tough choice. But in the end he resigned himself to towel drying his hair. Leaving the dressing room, he found his usual spot on the wall to lean against and wait for Niko. And because Edwin was a creature of habit and everyone knew it, it took only about a minute for Simon to find him right there.
“You can’t be serious”, Edwin said before Simon could even open his mouth.
“Can’t I even say hello to you anymore?”
“You can try, but I don't have to listen to it.”
“Edwin, don’t be like that.” He had that sheepish, boyish look on his face – the one that always helped him to get away with the most ghastly things. Well, not anymore. Not with Edwin, who crossed his arms and stared him down, gathering all the self-righteous contempt his parents had instilled in him from birth. “I will be like that if I damn well please, thank you.”
“Hey, I’ve been trying to talk to you for weeks now. But you keep avoiding me.”
“Poor darling, do you need help catching that hint?”
Simon sighed. Like it was Edwin who was acting all unreasonable. “Look… I just… wanted to check on you. I heard… you were seeing someone.” He lowered his eyes, but Edwin was too preoccupied with the lightning striking his insides to pay attention to Simon’s puppy eyes routine. How would he know about Charles already? “So is it true? Did you hook up with that prick your mum wanted to set you up with even when we were dating?”
Oh. Right. The duke-to-be. Edwin had nearly forgotten about him – his memory of that dinner was fuzzy and riddled with incredulity. But since it would piss Simon off, he didn’t correct him. “It is truly none of your business who I do and don’t go out with.”
Now Simon’s eyes grew darker. He was frustrated. Edwin told himself that this was a good thing, even as something inside him wanted to shrivel up in a corner. “God, you can be such a bitch sometimes.”
Edwin knew that about himself. It was hereditary. “You took money to break up with me!”
To him, this was the argument to end all arguments. But Simon only shrugged in an oopsie daisy sort of manner. “Yes and that was a shitty thing to do. But you know very well that my family is not as well off as yours.” Something Simon had never failed to be thrashingly insecure about. Even though his father was a successful plastic surgeon and his mother a theater actress only ever seen on stage, in a limousine or under her husband’s blade. New money, Edwin’s mother had called them and she said the words like some would say frog liver or dung beetle.
Now Simon was reaching for his hand and suddenly it was very important not to be touched, so Edwin hid his hands behind his back. Instead, Simon’s touch grazed his arm. “You know I’m sorry, Edwin... I never meant to hurt you. And I don’t want to see you get hurt with that new guy... Come on, you know me.”
Edwin was fourteen again. Back pressed against a locker, a bigger boy looming over him as Edwin was holding his breath like he would be too insignificant to mess with if only he rendered himself as unobtrusive as possible. It never worked.
And he was sixteen again, back pressed against an empty classroom’s door, a bigger boy looming over him, hands on him, kissing him and it was just so confusing that it was the same boy... that he whispered some of the same things but in a different voice and it somehow twisted them to sound lovely. Even that name that had always been used to cut him into ribbons…
Edwin had told Charles that Simon had broken up with him after three months. Which wasn’t a lie, per se. But it wasn’t quite true either. They had been out as a couple to their families and in school for about three months. It had been the result of a... moment Edwin was still ashamed of. After a year and a half of hooking up in stolen corners, he had one day found himself pathetically clinging to Simon, half-dressed and crying, asking if he even liked him.
“Of course I do”, he had said, gently swiping the tears off Edwin’s cheeks. He could be sweet like that. If he wanted to. If he wanted something. He had promised him that they would tell people. “Out and proud and all of that.” His smile had been a salve on Edwin’s shredded heart.
He likes me, he remembered thinking. And he wants people to know. He doesn’t hate me, he’s not taking advantage. I was just... imagining things. Because I always think ill of people. Because I’m not a good person. But Simon is. He likes me...
Nearly a year later, Edwin asked himself if Simon would’ve told him anything just to get him to close his mouth and... oh well. It thinking about such things did nothing but make his stomach churn. Just like that hand on his arm.
“Edwin!” His head unlocked and turned towards Niko’s voice. She was standing in the hallway, right outside the girls’ changing room, smiling, but there was a strain in her eyes that usually wasn’t there. Niko knew. She was the easiest person to talk to, so of course she knew. “We gotta go. Don’t want to keep Charles waiting, right?”
Charles... yes, Charles. The name shook something awake in Edwin, something that told him everything would be right again, if he just went to see Charles. He shook off Simon’s hand and circled around him to Niko.
“Hey, I wasn’t done talking to you!”
“Oh, I think you were”, Niko said with the kindest, sweetest smile that promised hellfire. But as she took Edwin’s arm and steered him down the hall and towards the main exit, Simon followed them, quickly joined by some of his more boorish friends from the music department who made crude remarks about him being off to chat up ballerinas again.
They passed one of the art studios on their way out and Edwin couldn’t suppress a shudder, causing Niko to gently squeeze his arm, reminding him of her presence. It was the atelier with all the dolls. Some brutes had locked him in there once when he was fourteen, just to mess with him. Of course, they couldn’t have known that his parents had been out of town and so he had spent the night staring at pale porcelain and glassy eyes as the ache in his stomach and bladder grew hour by hour until the janitor found him around six in the morning.
Edwin had never asked Simon if he had been one of the guys that day, since he hadn’t seen all their faces. He was afraid of the answer.
As Edwin left the Academy with Niko in tow, it only took a moment for him to locate Charles and with resigned incredulity he thought:I should have seen this coming. If he had learned anything the past few weeks, it was that Charles Rowland was nothing if not committed to the bit. So seeing him in front of the Academy in trousers so thoroughly ripped, they defied the definition of clothing, wearing extra heavy eyeliner and probably every single chain and spike he owned, he should not have been as surprised as he was. Faintly, Edwin wondered if he had acquired more spikes, especially for this endeavour – he would have to talk to him about scheme-related expenses again. Absentmindedly, Charles fiddled with a lighter, an unlit fag hanging between his lips. He struck quite the James Dean figure, bordering on parody, but he certainly caught some strange and some appreciating looks from the student body filing out of the building.
Before Edwin had the chance to blow the whole thing off and scramble back into school, Niko had caught sight of Charles and squealed with delight, loud enough so the whole block could’ve heard her. “Edwin, your boyfriend’s here!”
Charles’ eyes found them and his whole face lit up with the sunniest grin. It always did and Edwin had to often tell himself that it shouldn’t make his heart flutter. Charles gave smiles away like they meant nothing. To Edwin, they meant everything.
Charles bridged the distance between them with an easy stride and easier smile, but only when he was a few steps away from him, did Edwin realize that Charles’ gaze was zeroed in on his hair, still damp from the shower. “You have curly hair!”
Edwin felt heat rise to his cheeks, raising a hand to try and smooth out the nest on his head. “I know, it’s quite an unkempt mess–”
Charles caught his wrist, grinning at him like a maniac. “Who the hell told you that?” His mother had. Often and with utter distaste. “You look bloody adorable!” Edwin was pretty sure nobody had ever called him adorable, not even as a child. Charles, however, said it like it was a truth of the universe. He put one arm around Edwin’s waist in an instant, smoothly grabbing his bag in the same motion, slipping it onto his shoulder as he slipped into character. “How was school, babe?”
“It was good.” Edwin stuttered, his breath catching as Charles’ lips swiftly grazed the soft spot under his ear. Sometimes Edwin regretted telling Charles not to kiss him for the simple fact that he had taken it as a challenge to get creative. While Edwin was preoccupied with losing his marbles, Charles took the opportunity to look past his shoulder. “That bloke glaring at us over there would be Simon, right?”
Edwin didn’t turn, but Niko nodded. “Yeah, that’s him.”
Charles snorted out a laugh. “Wanker. Can I grab your butt, mate?”
“Charles!” His face felt like a furnace at this point.
“Dramatic effect, Edwin.”
He sighed and closed his eyes. It was not like the idea was repulsive to him. Very much the opposite – but that was the problem, wasn’t it? “Do go on then…”
Though he couldn’t see Charles’ grin, at this point he could feel it in the air, as the hand on his waist slid over his hip and then came to rest on his backside. There was a tiny squeeze and Edwin suppressed an undignified yelp for deeply impersonal reasons.
“Anybody bothering you today, babe?”, Charles asked pointedly, loud enough for Edwin to remember what this charade was all about. He turned a bit in Charles’ grasp and discovered Simon and his friends only a few steps away. Simon pursed his lips in indignation, holding eye-contact with Charles, who seemed delighted by that fact, holding up two choice fingers.
“I am fine, Charles.”
“More than fine.” Another squeeze. Good god. “Oi! Simon! Why don’t you come here, bruv? Let’s have a chat.”
With his friends hollering like idiots behind his back, Simon approached, leveling Charles with a calculating look. “You don’t look like a duke.”
“Aw, thanks man. You don’t look like a cunt, but here we are.” Maybe Edwin shouldn’t feel so vindicated about Simon looking like Charles had already hit him with the prospective bat. “You know, pal, I am actually quite worried about you”, Charles went on, his hand comfortably slipping into the back pocket of Edwin’s jeans.
Simon frowned at him, very much lost on how to even approach someone as brazen as Charles Rowland. “Excuse me?”
“Yeah, you don’t seem to take good care of yourself, Simon.”
“Edwin, what is that charity case talking about?” If only Edwin knew.
Leaning a bit towards Simon, crowding Edwin against him in the process, Charles put on a serious face, like the two boys shared a secret. “You see, mate, Edwin told me, you’re a violinist. So your fingers must be very important to you. You know, being your future and all that. Now, you’d think that would mean you’d keep them safe. So imagine my surprise when I hear about you trying to put them on my boyfriend.”
Silence fell. Not even the imbecils laughed. The only one enjoying himself was Charles, who seemed to relish the way all the blood left Simon’s face in a single rush. “So how about we make a deal, huh? Heard you like that sort of thing. You keep your hands off Edwin and I won’t bring my cricket bat the next time I pick him up from school. You know, I promised Edwin to behave, right? So don’t make me a liar, Simon. We good? Great, mate! Always knew we would get along aces!”
After some heartbeats of utter quiet, Simon gave Charles a look Edwin knew quite well – disgust. He turned towards him. “So you go for pleb bellends now?”
Edwin wondered if Charles was aware of how his arm tightened around him. “Oi, you want to try and say that to my face, son?”
This was getting way too hostile, way too soon. And Simon was enough of a prick to get Charles into trouble, so Edwin placed a firm palm on his chest, trying to keep him in place. “Charles. Decorum.”
“Yeah, gonna decorate the pavement with the tosser if he keeps his beady eyes on you.”
Simon scoffed, still only addressing Edwin. “Pathetic. Honestly, this is beneath you, Mary-Ann.”
Lightning shot through Edwin – he couldn’t really help the flinch. But he should have tried harder because now Charles’ face had changed. The flippant grin was gone and his eyes flitted over Edwin’s face like he was looking for something. He then leveled an ice cold stare at Simon even while addressing Edwin, his voice turning dangerously smooth. It seemed in asking Charles to act a villain on purpose, Edwin had created a monster. “Now say, sweetness, ain’t that the tosser with the erectile dysfunction?”
A startled laugh shot out of Edwin’s throat before he could stop it. In an instant, Simon was fire engine red with anger. “What the–”
“Oh yeah, I remember now, that was you.” Charles just pushed on, bulldozing right over Simon. “Edwin, how did you describe it again?”
He couldn’t help himself, could he? With this beautiful, brash boy at his side, how could Edwin not play along? He felt himself smile then – more of a menacing smirk if he was honest with himself. Charles seemed to get something wicked brewing inside of him – oh, they truly were terrible influences on each other, weren’t they? Edwin leaned back into Charles, settling himself against his chest that was blessedly solid, holding him upright even as the chill of the past was still creeping through his veins. “An unfortunately soggy crumpet.”
Simon sputtered, his so-called friends around him breaking into howling laughter. It was quite sad to see them turn so easily on one of their own when faced with a bigger presence. “You bloody–”
“Oi, no need to be ashamed, is there?” Charles gave him a jovial grin. “Happens to lots of guys, mate.”
Edwin didn’t really know what got into him then, but he raised his hand to catch Charles under the chin with a gentle finger, drawing his gaze towards him. He couldn’t help a teasing smile. “Never to you, darling.”
Among wolf-whistles and a distinct dying-cat sort of sound coming from Simon’s direction, Charles’ eyes turned curiously empty for a moment, so Edwin took the opportunity to take his arm and give Niko a sign to follow along as he dragged his fake-boyfriend off before things could actually take a turn for the worse.
On their way to meet up with Crystal at their preferred coffee place, Edwin could feel Charles’ eyes on him. Usually this was not an unpleasant sensation, but today his gaze felt... intent. Like he was considering or looking for something. They walked in silence for a while. Even Niko seemed to feel the tension in the air. But whatever Charles had been pondering, he evidently disregarded it in favour of breaking said tension. “So. We are shagging already? Going a bit fast there, aren’t we?”
Edwin really hoped his cheeks weren’t as aflame as they felt and kept his eyes locked in front of him. “Excuse me?”
“That little comment back there? For dear Simon’s sake? Oi, I’m not complaining, real ego booster, mate.”
With a chuckle, Edwin shook his head, only now looking towards Charles, who grinned at him with a mischievous glint in his eye. Yes, there truly was no one as comfortable with himself as Charles Rowland. Edwin allowed himself to give him a little nudge with his shoulder. “Well... I guess you are corrupting me quite a bit.”
“Ha! Don’t play innocent now, mate. I just know you are a bloody tease. Am I at least a generous lover?”
“A gentleman through and through.”
“Do we cuddle after?”
“You insist upon it, and it’s quite grating.”
“Aces!”
“Are you two always joking about sleeping with each other?” Their heads shot around to Niko, who was watching them with the sweetest smile. Edwin cleared his throat, quickly starting a conversation about math class to move the topic along. From the corner of his eye he could’ve sworn that Charles’ ears had turned red.
They met Crystal outside the coffee shop – she was covered in paint splotches, some even crisping up in her hair. “Jackson Pollock Week”, she deadpanned by way of explanation, and her dark expression did not encourage any further questions. After picking up their array of much needed caffeine (although Edwin could’ve really gone for a good cup of tea), they moved on, escorting Charles on his way to work.
In the tube, Charles ragdolled himself over Edwin’s back, chin on his shoulder. Not two weeks into this whole charade and he was already getting quite comfortable in Edwin’s personal space and Edwin didn’t have the heart to push him away. Darn his big brown eyes.
Charles had talked Edwin into getting one of those overly sweet lattes he liked so much (again, the eyes) and to Edwin’s dismay, it was delicious. He tried his best not to think about the calories, which turned out to be an easy task, since the conversation had turned to the Diamond Ball of all things unholy.
“You are going to the Diamond Party?!” Crystal stared at Charles, incredulously.
He blinked at her in disbelief. “You know what that is?”
“Of course she does”, Edwin scoffed, just as Crystal said “Of course I do.” They shot each other a strained glare.
“I get an invitation every year, but I haven’t gone the last two years”, she continued. “Hell, maybe it’s time to change that if you are going.”
Edwin glanced over to Charles, finding his eyes already on him. They shared a conspiratorial look and a smirk before Edwin turned to Crystal. “You should take Niko.”
Crystal flinched – honest to god flinched –, staring at him with big, astonished eyes., cheeks instantly darkening “What?”, she squeaked and then quickly looked over to Niko who blinked at her. Crystal cringed at her own forceful reaction. “I mean-… whaaat?”
“That’s a brills idea, Crys!” Charles chimed in, throwing an arm around Crystal’s shoulders, josteling her a bit. “You know, me and Edwin, we will be proper busy bamboozeling folks. So if you want to go, you should bring Niko to keep you company.”
“Charles and I already have our outfits”, Edwin kept going, not letting Crystal get a word in edgewise. “But you should definitely take Niko dress shopping, maybe get a manicure.” He raised a brow at her paint stained hands. “You certainly need it.”
For the first time since they met, Crystal was speechless. She stared at the boys, mouth hanging slightly open. Oh, she knew what they were up to.
“You don’t have to take me”, Niko mumbled, chewing a bit on her frappé-straw, eyes down-cast. “It’s fine if you don’t want to.” Edwin frowned at Crystal. She better get her shit together fast.
Crystal blinked and then seemed to shake herself free of her stupor, looking at Niko with a slightly panicked expression. “No! I mean yes! I mean– uh…”
“Eloquence.” Charles chuckled in his ear, but still poked him in the side like quiet.
With a deep breath, Crystal centered herself, looking Niko firmly in the face. “Do you want to go to the Diamond Ball with me?”
There were little things as bright as Niko Sasaki’s smile.
The girls left them at the next station to go shopping – after all, they were dreadfully late to get things done in time. “Oi, Crystal”, Charles called after her. “Maybe you should wash off the paint first!”
“I’m gonna spend so much money, they will beg me to smear paint everywhere!”
“…as you were!”
Edwin didn’t want to be alone quite yet, so he stayed and walked with Charles towards the grocery store. Their fingers kept on brushing accidentally.
“So, what are our plans for the week?” Charles asked. “Other than that horse thing on Sunday?"
“Ascot...” Edwin’s face darkened. “The derby.” He said it like one would say the funeral or maybe the end of my days.
Charles chuckled at him, bumping their shoulders together. Edwin had never met a more touchy person in his entire life. “You don’t like horses?”
“They don't like me.”
He blinked at him. “...you have beef with horses?”
If looks could kill. “Before my father accepted that I would become a fairy dancer boy, he thought my frame would lend itself to the profession of the jockey. I had to endure seven years of riding lessons with a mare named Doll that – I am quite certain – wanted me dead.”
“Oh my god, you have beef with horses!”
“It is not funny! I am traumati–” He broke out into laughter before he could finish the sentence. Watching Charles Rowland laugh was incredibly fascinating since he threw his whole body into it, even out on the street as passers-by threw them odd looks and gave them a wide berth.
They were still snickering like little boys when they arrived at the store. Amir, Charles’ boss, clapped him on the shoulder as he handed over the keys. “Close up for me tonight, yes?”
“Sure thing.” Charles smiled and the man was out the door in a flash.
Edwin frowned at him. “You are working late again?”
“Oi, don’t give me that look. Amir’s kid is sick and her mum’s not around anymore. His sister is watching them but she’s got her own kid’s and–”
“I understand”, Edwin interrupted him, patting his arm a bit. “You are too kind for this world, Charles Rowland.”
With a pleased grin, Charles walked behind the register, putting the keys in his pocket before setting down their bags. “So, as I was asking, any other plans this week?”
Edwin leaned against the counter. “Not really? I guess I should give you one or two dance lessons before the Diamond Ball.”
Charles gawked at him. “Oi, nobody said anything about dancing.”
“It’s a ball. And you like dancing.”
“I like wobbling about in a club. I can’t actually dance for shit.”
Edwin raised a brow at him. “I know. That’s what the lessons are for. I’m not asking you to perform a p as de deux with me. Just a simple waltz. But if you really don’t want to dance with me, you don’t have to.”
Charles frowned at him, a bit pouty. “I didn’t say that, now did I? Fine.” He looked around the empty store like he wanted to make sure nobody saw him, before walking up to Edwin, standing an arms-length apart. “Where do I put my hands?”
“You never seem to have any issues with that question.”
“Edwin!”
He couldn’t help his laugh as he took Charles’ hand, setting one on his waist and keeping the other in his hand. “Let me show you how the steps work for the lead, that’s the easiest. You start with your left foot.”
“You know, I kinda have two of those.”
“You play cricket and football.”
“Yes, but like proper dancing seems hard.”
“You literally just have to move your feet in a box.”
“There will be boxes on the dance floor?”
Edwin started by showing him the basic movements, before starting to count in a slow measure. It was quite disastrous and quickly dissolved into giggles as an old lady with white hair and a big puffer-jacket walked into the store. “Hey, Darleen”, Charles chuckled and the old lady smiled with a little wave before turning down the produce aisle.
Edwin chuckled, shaking his head. “I shouldn’t keep you from your work.”
Charles sighed. “Yeah, I have some restocking to do anyway.” He glanced towards the door behind the register, leading to what Edwin assumed must be the storage room. “Actually… would you come with me for a second. I… I gotta talk to you.”
“What about your customer?”
“Oh, we got time. Darleen takes twenty minutes to decide what apples to buy. And she always takes Pink Lady.”
The backroom was more spacious than Edwin had anticipated from such a small store but apart from a little square of moving space in the center, it was packed. A single naked lightbulb tinted everything just a bit yellow.
“So…” Edwin watched as Charles leaned against a stack of plastic crates reaching his hip level, crossing his arms. His eyes were set on Edwin and he was frowning – it was an unusual look for his face. “Are you gonna tell me what happened with Simon?”
Edwin blinked at him. “You know what happened with Simon.”
“I know parts of it. But you’re not telling me the whole truth.”
Something cold rushed through him then. He should have known not to let Charles anywhere near Simon. Not to let him see Edwin near Simon. Because he was way to perceptive, way too sensitive. Of course, he picked up on something. Edwin only realized that he had lowered his gaze when Charles ducked his head, trying to catch it. “Did he hurt you?”
He couldn’t suppress a scoff. “Please, Charles. He is a violinist, he would never risk his hands to hit someone.”
Charles was silent for a moment, posture suddenly straight and stiff. It was a heavy, strained silence and Edwin gathered too late that this had not been a reassuring statement at all. “Did. He. Hurt. You?”
Oh. That voice was new. It wasn’t anything like Charles’ brash irritation about hiding biscuits or his aghast incredulity about Simon taking the money from his father. This voice was quiet. Almost collected. But so firm, it didn’t allow for any evasion. So Edwin looked him in the eye. “He never laid a hand on me I didn’t want.” That was true. It was.
Charles nodded slightly but didn’t relax his stance. “Fine. Was he cruel to you?”
“I just said–”
“You can be cruel without hitting someone, Edwin, and I know you know what I am talking about. Don’t fuck with me right now. This is no time for your word games.”
Charles wasn’t shouting at him. He wasn’t angry at him. Still, he sounded so intense, it shook something inside of Edwin lose. His heart was leaping into his throat and rattling down his ribcage. “He... wasn’t always kind to me.”
Charles nodded slowly, before starting for the door. “I’m gonna break his fucking fingers.” It wasn’t a threat so much as a statement. Like I'm going for a walk.
“And leave me here while I am feeling vulnerable?” It wasn’t fair really, pulling on that string of protective affection. But Edwin couldn’t feel bad about that right now. Not when Charles was about to do something very stupid. And to be honest… he was a bit shaky. His arm still itched where Simon had touched him. “Also, Darleen is still out there and someone needs to sell the lady her apples in fifteen minutes.”
Charles silently looked at Edwin for about thirty seconds and then he sighed, his features smoothing out as he focused on his face. Maybe Edwin did look as pathetic as he felt right now, because Charles walked up to him and gathered him into a tight embrace.
And it was strange. They touched all the time, Charles had pretty much groped him just hours ago. But this was their first actual hug without any pretense. And Edwin let himself melt into it. Suddenly he felt so very, very tired. When did that headache start? Was he shaking?
Charles’ deep sigh reverberated through him and then he let himself sink onto a crate, dragging Edwin with him, who found himself too limp to do anything against being arranged on Charles’ lap like a particularly gangly sock puppet. “Charles, what are you doing?”
“Holding you.”
“Why?”
“Comfort. Do you hate it?”
“... I like it. Still, I'm fine and–”
“Oi, if you don’t want to be touched anymore, just say the word. Otherwise, shut it and let me hug my friend. I need that shit too, you know? Trying not to end up on the news over here.” A firm hand was placed on his head, pulling it against Charles’ chest. Edwin could hear his heartbeat. It was a bit fast, maybe because he was still seething about Simon, but if he did, he didn’t let it show. His face was neutral, and his fingers in Edwin’s hair were gentle.
After a while, when the steady thumb of Charles’ heart slowed down, Edwin closed his eyes. And as Charles talked his voice was so soft he could feel it more than he heard it. “I really like your hair like that.”
Edwin made a mental note to cancel that hair appointment his mother insisted on every four weeks minimum. Maybe he could stand to let it grow out just a bit.
Leaving the grocery store, Edwin felt curiously at peace. Charles’ touch had effectively swept Simon’s off his skin and for once Edwin’s mind was calm. At ease. To his surprise, being held by Charles was a somewhat meditative experience and Edwin had been to exhausted to be embarrassed about it.
Of course, his zen would only carry him as far as his front door.
“Edwin, is that you?” His mother appeared in the drawing room door, just as he was trying to vanish up the stairs. She was dressed in Burberry but without her pearls, so she must not have had anything important scheduled for the afternoon. Since it was Monday she had probably been checking the household books and looming menacingly over the shoulders of the cleaning staff. “Oh, good to see you, darling.” Her tone was light and that was the first sign of bad news. “I wanted to talk to you about our weekend plans.” Meaning she wanted to talk to him about Charles. “I know how you dislike the race, dear. Why don’t you and that charming boyfriend of yours spend the Sunday on something more fun.”
Edwin blinked at her. She really did not want him to bring Charles along where her friends and his father’s business associates could see him, did she? “But wasn’t the point of this, that father could get to know Charles?”
She smiled – that thin smile that never reached her eyes. A classic. “I am sure we can arrange something else to get them together.”
“I think the race is a perfect opportunity, since father is always so busy. Naturally, I could bring Charles to his office, show him around, if you think that would be more appropriate.” His mother’s smile wavered. “Seriously, mother. I do not know what your issue with Charles is.” He knew. Very well.
“I don’t know what you mean, dear.”
At this point, he couldn’t hold in his sigh anymore. All that mucking about, all that mincing words with his own mother was simply infuriating. And sad. God, it was sad. And he was tired. “Mother, we are alone in our house, you may drop the niceties.”
And drop they did. Her face scrunched up into a frown as she leveled him with an icy stare. Finally, after two weeks of forced tolerance, she let herself speak her mind – Edwin liked his mother way better like this. At least it was honest. “He arrived to tea late and soiled.”
“From helping out his father. I thought you would appreciate his strong work ethic. Doesn’t father always say one only has to work hard to achieve greatness? Or do you think this not the kind of work he was talking about?”
Her nostrils flared, Edwin’s impertinence working her into a dignified frenzy. It was always curious seeing her like this – a person trained since birth to keep her face composed and wrinkle-free while she seethed just below the surface. “He works at a grocery store.”
“All while preparing for his A-levels. Isn’t that quite impressive?”
“Is he going for a degree?”
Edwin didn’t know. Why didn’t he know that? “Does that matter?”
“You know it matters, Edwin.” With mild curiosity, Edwin noticed the pitch of her voice raising with its volume. His mother was usually quite the level-headed person – he could count on one hand how often he had heard her shout. She never had to, since she commanded attention as easily as one would operate a light-switch. Somehow, in some innocuous way Edwin couldn’t quite grasp, this situation – the situation being Charles – was getting to her worse than he had imagined. Worse than he had planned. “You should be smart about who you surround yourself with, Edwin. You always knew your priorities, even when you were a child. It is quite late for a rebellion.”
“I’m eighteen.”
“An adult by all measures. So I will tell you now what my mother told me when I was your age. And it might sound harsh, but it is true.” She took a deep breath, calming herself as she brushed imaginary wrinkles off her blouse before folding her hands in that neat way she had taught him when he was five years old. She rarely talked about Edwin’s grandmother, who he had barely met before her death, but when she did, it always seemed to unnerve her. “Boys like him might seem… exciting. Or fun. But you don’t bring boys like this home to meet your parents. Especially not when there are way more suitable options available.”
Edwin sighed, unable to keep his irritation at bay. “Not the bloody duke again.”
“Yes!”, she hissed. “The bloody duke again. You are almost done with school, Edwin. The time for high school romance is over and I am trying to set you up for life. You want to spend your youth dancing? Well, you must be able to afford it. You decided to get into a career that makes no use of your mind and the expensive education it was shaped by. So you must live with the fact that you can’t have both your dream and your dream boy. It might seem unfair to you, but it is your responsibility to find a way to provide for the lifestyle you choose. It is simply a question of your comfort and safety – and boys like that are simply unsafe to be around!"
Edwin stared at her, aghast. Looking her in the eye, he tried to see anything other than irritation. He was never that good at reading expressions. “Are you… are you implying that Charles would harm me?” Juxtaposed with the day he had had, this conversation was just ludicrous. He felt a hysterical laugh bubbling up his throat.
“Maybe not physically, but financially for sure – I can guarantee you that. Boys like him are only after your inheritance.”
Now the gears had clicked together. That was the kind of safety she was talking about. “So you think he is after my money?” To be fair… not untrue, but the finer details were so ridiculous, the laugh broke out of him, quick and sharp. “What because this”, he gestured to the ridiculously ornate hallway they stood in. “This is just safety? Mother, this is excess!”
Her gaze darkened. “Excess that provides for your education.”
“Something I am forever grateful for but not obligated to perpetuate! And dear lord, mother, I am a teenager, I should get to have a boyfriend without thinking about such ridiculous notions as if he is after my money or if he can provide for me – which, by the way, is an insulting insinuation to begin with! What, do you and father intend to disown me?”
She bristled. “Edwin, don’t be ridiculous.”
“This is a serious question, mother. Because right now you are giving me the impression that I shall be a starving artist if I don’t marry into wealth by the time I leave the Academy. Is this a plea for me to overthink my career path or Charles or both?” Oh, this felt too real. When devising this scheme he had anticipated a fight with his parents – maybe even several. With dry amusement, he had mulled over dramatic arguments on the level of a 2000s teen movie heroine squealing But Daddy, I love him. But this … this didn’t feel all that fake anymore. This cut right through fake and deep into his flesh.
“Stop putting words in my mouth, Edwin.”
“I am not. I am simply asking what the words in your mouth mean.” It was always like that between the two of them. His mother was a great speaker, she had schooled his vocabulary from the moment he could produce sound – but when talking to each other, they simply fell apart, unable to decipher their respective codes that should have been one and the same because she taught it to him.
By now, his mother didn’t look angry anymore. Her brow was still furrowed, but there was a new tremor in her lip he hadn’t really seen before. Or maybe he had. There was a faint memory of a time when he was somewhat on eye-level with her knees, and her hair was still long, and her smile reached her eyes, unless his father was shouting. “Of course, we don’t want to disown you. You are our only son!”
He scoffed, even though that slight shiver in her voice shook him to the core. “And the mere thought of leaving everything to charity would give father a gallstone.”
“I can’t believe you think that little of us.”
“I can’t believe you are talking to your teenage son about his marriage prospects just because his boyfriend is late for tea. You simply don’t know him like I do. Charles is–” Hilarious. Strange. Warm. Irritating. Protective. “He is kind.”
They stared at each other for a few heartbeats. And then, silently, she walked back into the drawing room.
His mother didn’t mention changing plans for Sunday again. So Sunday came and swept them to the Ascot Racecourse. Edwin was only glad that he didn’t inflict Royal Ascot upon Charles – his father in a top hat was simply ridiculous. Either way, his father usually attended the box of a client or other, thus he still wore a suit and his mother her cream Chanel ensamble – which was quite brave for someone stalking over grass in six-inch heels. Edwin himself went for a more casual linen suit in an effort not to boil in box.
Next to him, Charles – in baggy trousers and a band shirt with a hole in the collar – looked about with big eyes and a bigger grin as they filed past the field where the horses and jockey were already warming up along the parade ring. “Aw, look at the horsies! Aren’t they cute?” He nudged Edwin in the side. “Don’t look menacing at all, do they?”
Edwin rolled his eyes at him in fond exasperation, taking Charles’ arm and leaning close to kiss his cheek – maybe for show. Maybe because that boy was just a fucking delight to have around. “You are the menace, darling.”
“Number seventeen seems like a banker”, Edwin’s father mused in his general direction, and Edwin followed his gaze. Number seventeen was a brown stallion with a braided mane and (to Edwin at least) dangerously vapid eyes. However, he seemed quite at ease in the ring and that was usually a good indicator. As established, Edwin wasn’t a horse person by any means, but since it was one of the few interests of his father he could somehow chime in on, he kept up with the racing stats – it was quite effective to dissipate their regularly scheduled awkward silence. “I think that must be Golden Star.” Why did these people give their horses such stupid names? “If I remember correctly he placed first in Cheltenham last march. He has the best ratios for a solid outcome.”
“Nah, mate. You don’t wanna bet on that one”, Charles chimed in to everybody’s surprise. Curiously, his eyes seemed to be fixed on the jockey standing at the side to chat with his trainer rather than on the horse.
“What do you know about horses?”, Edwin’s father asked, indignantly furrowing his brow at him.
Charles grinned brilliantly. “They shit a lot and coppers look ridiculous on them.”
Edwin’s father did not dignify this with an answer, but his scowl was lethal.
Reaching the betting ring, Edwin discussed the odds with his father as they usually did – a dull, circular conversation he only dedicated half his attention to. The other half was overly aware of Charles’ hand on his lower back – by now he should be used to it. He wasn’t.
His mother was tagging along behind them – she was less interested in the races than even Edwin was, but Ascot was a place to meet people, so she could only take a few steps at a time before hugging and air-kissing someone with a loud “So good to see you, darling!”. The men in her family had stopped trying to keep her glacier pace. She now appeared at Edwin’s side again after being stopped by a lady from one of her charity boards wearing the most obnoxiously feathered headdress he had ever seen. Edwin’s mother shot him a meaningful look. "Is that not the worst hat you’ve ever had the misfortune to lay your eyes upon.” As a woman of proper society, she had perfected the skill of talking shit behind a smile to near ventriloquistic perfection.
“I do wonder which bird species had to become endangered for this monstrosity.”
Carefully, they smiled at each other and Edwin felt a certain knot untangle that his chest had held onto since Monday.
“Well, Charles.” Edwin felt himself jump as his father suddenly addressed not him, but the boy by his side. “Are you a betting man?”
“More of a bedding man, pal.”
“Hilarious”, he said flatly. “Well then, young man, pick a horse.”
Charles blinked at him. “Excuse me?”
“Well, maybe if you win some money you can afford trousers that are intact.”
With a chuckle, Charles shook his head. “Nah, man. Not everyone can just waste money like that, pal.”
Edwin’s father raised a brow at him. “But you seemed to have such clear opinions before. Why don’t we have a little game, huh? I will place a bet on my pick and one for your pick – let’s say a hundred pounds? Whoever places better takes the pot.”
Charles narrowed his eyes at him and Edwin couldn’t blame him. His father was acting very strange. “What if you lose the money?”
Edwin’s father shrugged with a jovial smile. “What are two-hundred pounds? Just some pocket change, wouldn’t you agree, Charles?”
Edwin felt himself blush in embarrassment. How was his father such a prick?
Charles – always one to keep up the pokerface – only smiled. “Fine. Let’s do it.” He turned towards the betting boards, letting his eyes roam over the numbers, odds and names. “Number five.” Edwin blinked at him. He had just been talking with his about father how number five had the best odds after Golden Star. He had not been aware that Charles had been paying attention. As promised, Edwin’s father placed the bets and they found their way to the box.
The private boxes pretty much looked like elaborate dining rooms, with several tables decked out in perfect glass and porcelain. There was a wide glass front, leading out to a balcony from which one could watch the track. A bar provided libations and before the race even started, Edwin had to suffer through a five course meal during which his father was talking to his client about a recent lawsuit and nothing else and his mother shot him a dark look when he picked up the spoon for dessert. Charles, who had excelled at displaying the worst table manners known to man while obviously relishing in the food, glared right back at his mother and set down his own dessert in front of Edwin as well. The two of them held each other in ocular contempt for several minutes while Edwin enjoyed two quite exquisite crème brûlée, so as far as he was concerned he was the winner of the whole confrontation.
After lunch, the guests quite naturally divided themselves by gender. While Edwin’s father was conversing with several men in suits and his mother kept their Champagne sipping wives entertained, Charles took Edwin’s hand and led him onto the balcony, sitting down on one of the seats. With a slight pull on his hand, Edwin let himself perch on Charles’ knee, putting an arm around his neck (much to the silent horror of the suit-wearers and the barely hidden gasping of the wives).
“You good?”, Charles asked lowly, because of course he would check in on him.
“Perfectly fine. I am sorry my father is such a prick.”
Charles shrugged, one hand slowly stroking Edwin’s back. “Him being a prick is why we are doing this, innit?”
“I guess so… still, he is being a mule and I don’t like him talking to you like that.”
“Don’t worry, mate. I’m totally fine.” With a soft smile, Charles leaned in to hover his lips right next to Edwin’s throat. “At least now I know being a bastard is hereditary.”
Edwin chuckled and shoved him. “Oh, fuck you!”
Maybe they were laughing too loudly, because Edwin’s father disengaged from his conversation to take a seat next to Charles’, leveling him with a dark look Edwin felt himself shrink away from. His voice was low as to not alert anyone else of their conversation. “Young man, I would appreciate it, if you ceased this inappropriate behaviour towards my son. Edwin, I would’ve thought you better behaved than that.”
Charles hummed, rather unimpressed. “Can’t help the love, can you?”
Edwin cringed under his father’s glare as he considered Charles with open distaste. “Love? Is that so?”
Mildly intrigued now, Charles tilted his head a bit. “Are you asking me about my intentions with your son? Because just to make that clear: I’m more of a free love kinda guy. Also, we’re teens, so this is ridiculous.”
Edwin’s father narrowed his eyes at Charles. “It is not as ridiculous for people in our circles.”
“Oh, you mean rich folk! That reminds me: Do you know what your ancestors did in the 18th century? Just wanna make sure I’m not gonna get haunted by mum’s side of the family for gettin’ frisky with your son, eh?” And he nudged him. Edwin was pretty sure his father had never been nudged before in his entire life.
“You impertinent–”
His father always had quite a short fuse. However, Charles didn’t lose his grin. “Now, keep it cool, guv’ner. Don’t want to make a scene, do we?” Edwin never could’ve anticipated that, while Charles kept up at least some pretense of nicety with his mother, his father’s particular brand of snobbery seemed to rile him up in a very different way.
The bells announcing the beginning of the first race stopped the argument in its tracks, since now the other guests filed onto the balcony. While Edwin tried paying attention to the track, Charles’ simply wrapped him up in his arms and rested his forehead against his shoulder.
For a moment it all seemed quite calm to Edwin. That was until Golden Star fell farther and farther behind. Mouth slightly agape, Edwin watched as his father lost a hundred pounds on a horse that didn’t even place in the top three, while Charles’ number five got third place.
At the end of the race day, Edwin’s father – a gentleman of his word, after all – picked up Charles’ winnings of four-hundred pounds and handed them over with the air of someone forced to touch something exceedingly slimy. “Beginner’s luck I suppose.”
“Nah, nothing lucky about it, mate. Just saw how number 17’s jockey held his arm – recently dislocated his shoulder, that one. Thought, no way he’s gonna perform well, no matter the horse. All that jostling couldn’t have been good for the fella, right?”
Edwin couldn’t help it. He laughed. And at the dark expression on his father’s face, he howled.
“Well”, his father pressed through his teeth. “Aren’t you observant?”
“Have an eye for twinks and their ailments, don’t I? Lovely doing business with you, mate.” He pocketed the money with a grin, slinging his arm around Edwin in the same movement. “What do you say, babe? We gonna spend it all on a night out on the town? I never take you places.”
“You always take me places.”
“Not nice places, I don’t. You deserve better than Frank’s Fish ‘n Chips.”
Edwin grinned. “I’m gonna tell him you said that.”
Charles clutched his chest in mock betrayal. “Oi, don’t you dare! Come on, just let me blow some money on you, sweetness.” He leaned into him, grinning against his ear and lowering his voice, but not enough for Edwin’s father not to turn the colour of an aubergine. “In return, you can blow something else if you like.”
Oh no. His face was on fire. How curious. “We had better get going to avoid the rush!” Quickly, Edwin grabbed Charles’ arm, painfully aware that this was now twice in one week he had to drag him off in an attempt to deescalate. Maybe this whole scheme was getting out of hand.
“Sorry, mate”, Charles snickered, now actually whispering. “I just needed to see your dad’s face. At this point, I’m aiming for cardiac arrest.” In his father or himself, Edwin had to wonder.
For their next meeting, Edwin made sure to pick a day he knew his father would be in the office til evening – granted, defeating the purpose of their scheme, but at the same time giving his father as well as Charles a bit of time to calm their hostility.
They stood in the drawing room, since it provided the most space, and Edwin flipped through the records neatly tucked away in a sideboard to find some music to waltz to. Charles was sitting cross-legged on the floor, frowning at a record he had picked out on random from the bottom shelf. “Okay, who in this house listens to The Smiths?” Somehow a bit frantically, he began to pull out more records. “The Clash, Billy Idol, Subhumans?!”
Edwin blinked at him. He had forgotten those were there. “Oh, I think they were my mother’s. She kept them for sentimental reasons, I gather.” Which in itself was quite odd, since his mother was not a sentimental person per se. “Though I’ve never heard them played before. I guess it’s just the music of her generation she held onto.” Charles’ mouth hung open, so Edwin used a finger under his chin to close it. He probably tried to imagine Edwin’s mother screaming Rebel Yell, which, to be fair, was a strange image indeed. “Nowadays, this is much more her speed”, he concluded, pulling out a classical record. He stood and put it on the record player, gently setting the needle on the vinyl.
“Now, do you remember the basic steps?”
“Suuuure”, Charles nodded – quite unconvincingly – and put the records back in order before scrambling off the floor.
Edwin navigated his hands and feet into the proper positions. By now touching Charles somehow felt quite natural and still quite strange at the same time. He started counting along with the music and after a few tentative steps, he realized that Charles was following along nicely, so he began to lead him in a circle around the room, which wasn’t much of an issue either, even while Charles still looked very out of his element. They grinned at each other, like idiots. “You are doing quite well, Charles.”
Up close, he could see the specks of warmer brown and gold in Charles’ dark eyes. He could also see the tips of his ears flushing. “Thanks, I– I’ve been practicing.”
“Practice–” Edwin almost did a double take as he saw his mother standing in the open doorway to the drawing room, just... watching them, her arms crossed, leaning against the door frame in an unusually lax way. He met her eye and there was a smile there. Before leaving, she softly closed the door.
“Yeah…” Charles didn’t seem to have noticed the quick exchange. “With my mum. In our kitchen. It was actually pretty fun, she loves dancing but doesn’t get to do it often. Dad used to take her, but… well.” His eyes got a bit lost then, like they often did whenever he talked about his parents. Or, more accurately, his father. Edwin wondered about that.
“It’s very sweet that you practiced with your mother.” That brought Charles back to him. He smiled at Edwin with so much warmth it was addicting to look at.
“Told her I’m gonna take someone special out to dance. Should’ve seen her, she was so excited.”
Those words, as lovely as they were, still delivered a little sting to Edwin’s heart. “So she thinks you’re dating some lovely girl? That’s sweet.”
Charles chuckles, shrugging. “I don’t know. I said ‘someone special’, didn’t I? I mean, she knows I’m a raging bisexual, but–”
For maybe the first time in years, after over a decade of professional dance instruction...
Edwin Payne tripped.
Notes:
You did it! You made it through this absolute seesaw of a chapter. You deserve a treat, so let me tell you a little secret: The next chapter will be titled “Public Displays of Affection”.
Thanks for reading!
Chapter 5: Public Displays of Affection
Notes:
So... this chapter is just me repeatedly bonking Charles over the head with the naughty stick. Sorry folks, our boy needs to get some things out of his system so his brain can buffer. Have fun with that!
Chapter Text
Charles Rowland was in purgatory. Actually, he was in Edwin’s bedroom, but same difference. Because while he was lounging on the armchair that had quickly become his usual spot and attempting to read A Midsummer Night’s Dream for class, Edwin was sitting on the floor next to his bed, basically in the horizontal splits, gaze firmly on the textbook lying between his legs and stretching. Right now, he raised his arms over his head and Charles had about thirty seconds to appreciate the length of his slender form, the delicious arch of his back, the delicate sliver of his midrift exposed as his shirt rode up just a bit...
And then there was an incredibly loud cracking sound that shattered right through his daydreaming and into his teeth, accompanied by a juxtaposing content sigh falling from Edwin’s lips. “What the hell, mate?! Was that your spine?!"
Edwin blinked up at him. “Wait until I start cracking my toes.”
“God no, I’ve seen Niko do that! Damn, dancers are bloody maniacs!”
Edwin rolled his eyes at him – like Charles was the crazy person in this scenario. “On a good day I can hook my knee behind my shoulder, do you think that doesn’t disalign a body to some extent? ... Charles?”
“Sorry, I stopped listening after the part about where your knee can go.”
“Oh, for fucks sake.”
“Yeah, exactly for that!” A pillow hit him square in the face.
Laughing, Charles tried to focus on his reading again, and not let his gaze wander back to Edwin who was now leaning forward on his elbows, eyes back on the book. Charles was not successful in focusing. As he seldom was nowadays, at least when Edwin was in the room with him.
Something had shifted recently and Charles was unable to pinpoint when or how. He suspected it had to have been sometime after holding Edwin in his arms for ten whole minutes in the dimly lit back of a grocery store until Darleen had demanded someone ring up her pound of Pink Lady apples, but who knew? It wasn’t a bad shift. The air just felt different.
Later, he had grappled with the fact that he had been that angry – violent, deep dark water angry – in front of Edwin. Who didn’t seem to mind, only gently pulling Charles back to shore. Still, he wondered if he could've done it. Never before had he hurt anyone on purpose. But seeing Edwin, the way he shriveled into himself when faced with Simon... the way he had flinched when Simon called him a girl’s name.
He wasn’t always kind to me.
Charles knew those eyes. The he isn’t that bad and the he didn’t mean it and the he would never hurt me. He was a coward, really. Quickly ready to break some random blokes hand before lifting a finger to do something where it mattered. When he told Edwin he needed the hug just as much, it hadn’t been a lie.
And now... Edwin seemed mostly fine, maybe even relaxed. He didn’t style his hair as neat anymore, at least not every day. A very selfish little part of Charles wanted that change to be because of him. Which, of course, was a prick way to think, but anyway... he would ask his mum for some of the good coconut oil for Edwin to try. Other than the hair, there was no overt change in Edwin’s demeanor. Maybe there was no shift at all and Charles was simply imagining things. Maybe there was a shift, but only in himself. Charles wasn’t stupid, as much as he liked to play the part. By now, he knew that he was fucked and thoroughly so, because of that blasted, pretty boy who allowed him to grab his ass for show but didn’t kiss him behind closed doors. So yes, he was quite aware that he seriously wanted to get his hands on Edwin, but it somehow seemed so different from the easy flings he was used to. This one was frantic and heavy with a strange sensation he couldn’t quite place.
But Edwin, while being easily flustered by Charles’ flirtation, didn’t seem all that into him when it came to real things. When they weren’t up to scheme-related shenanigans or out with the girls, they were studying. Exclusively. Without addressing it, Edwin had taken on the role of his tutor, which was actually a blessing, since Charles’ grades had skyrocketed so quickly one of his teachers had asked him if he had finally gotten some ADHD medication (rude). The medication in question was that beautiful boy who forced him to do his assignments for once and rewarded him with smiles and praise because apparently Charles was the human embodiment of a donkey following a carrot on a stick he would never reach.
“What are we doing this weekend?”, Charles asked, now fully giving up on Shakespeare – probably for good. “Any schemes planned, have you? The girls were talking about going to some show Saturday night.”
Edwin kept his eyes on the textbook. “Oh, I will be out of town this weekend. Which is just an utter inconvenience since Niko and I need all the time we can get to prepare for the showcase coming up.”
Charles tried not to sound as disappointed as he felt. “Oh, sure. Where are you going?”
Instead of answering, Edwin looked up, frowning at him. He stood in one smooth motion, sauntering over and perching on the armrest of Charles’ chair, taking the forgotten book out of his hand. “Aren’t you supposed to read this?”
“Well, it’s proper boring, innit.”
“It really isn’t. You are the one who fancies himself a romantic.” He looked at the page Charles had given up on, reading in a smooth and clear tone that rang right through him. “O Helen, goddess, nymph, perfect divine! To what, my love, shall I compare thine eyne? Crystal is muddy –” A truly troublesome grin. “O, how ripe in show thy lips, those kissing cherries, tempting grow.”
Charles felt himself quite dazed, staring at Edwin’s lips forming … words, he was pretty sure, but he was barely listening. Until Edwin hit the book against his chest. “Read it! Your essay is due next week.”
Charles pouted at him, taking the book but instead of opening it, he hooked one arm around Edwin’s middle and pulled, causing him to tumble into his lap. Edwin looked at him with all the indignation of a particularly perturbed kitten. “If this is your way out of studying–”
“You haven’t told me where you are going this weekend. I know how shifty your eyes get when you’re trying to avoid a topic. What’s going on?”
Crossing his arms, Edwin sighed and looked up to the ceiling – making no motion to remove himself from his current position, just for the record. “I did not want to involve you in this, but... Charles, would you care to scandalize some lords and ladies with me?”
“Excuse me?”
“My parents and I will spend the weekend at our country house–”
“Country house?!”
“A dreadfully old and probably haunted building slowly decaying in the countryside, a miserable five-hour train-ride from London. It belongs to my mother’s side of the family. Honestly, I wish I could tear it down once I inherit it, but I’m afraid it is protected by national conservatory laws.”
“You own a bloody monument?”
“Somewhat. Either way, we will attend the annual brunch at Lord and Lady Whickham’s estate, which is always an incredibly dull affair. But… you could be my plus one, if you would like. However, I do not really want to subject you to these people. They are terribly classist, racist pricks and not all of them are as subtle about it as my parents.”
“But you would like to have me there?”
Edwin didn’t answer until Charles shot him a spit it out kind of look. “...for entirely selfish reasons, I’m afraid.”
“Then I’m coming.”
“Charles, it is really not–”
“Oi, I want to see that craziness up close, don’t I? When would I ever again get the chance to wreak havoc on a fucking estate?” He grinned at Edwin, but it still took a while before his hesitation dissipated. But then it did. And oh, that smile spelled out trouble. “Marvelous. Bring your worst pair of jeans and prepare some opinions about the monarchy.”
Shenanigans on a random weekday or on a Sunday afternoon weren’t much of an issue for Charles. Taking off for a whole weekend took some explaining. Or, to be frank: some lying. He didn’t really like lying to his mum – if it were just her, he wouldn’t have to. But it wasn’t like he could tell his father: “Oh I’m just going to the countryside to brunch on some Lord’s estate and pretend to be in gay love with a friend. Gonna be home by Sunday.” He would a) not believe him, because wasn’t that the craziest sentence known to man? And b) probably go mental about the whole “gay love” thing. So lying it was, just for self-preservation’s sake. Thus, he devised a ruse of his own – Edwin wasn’t the only schemer in their dynamic duo. So here was his plan:
1. Go through mum, because telling dad directly would lead to too many questions and inevitable failure. Mum had her way of softening the edges of any news dad would find irritating.
2. Tell her he had picked up another shift for Amir and had to work late on Friday and early on Saturday, so there was plausible deniability if she didn’t see him get back during the night – this was the part Charles felt like shit about, since she knew about Amir’s kid being sick and wouldn’t question it. God, he was an asshole. But his dad was busy in the garage all Saturday, he wouldn’t notice him being gone that much.
3. That one was tricky: His dad liked the family being home on Sunday and as far as Edwin had explained it, they would only get back to London in the early afternoon. So one more night to account for. He needed a lie that wouldn’t piss off his dad, something he would understand: cricket. If there was one thing dad appreciated about Charles, it was his athletic achievements. So he would invent a weekend with some guys from the cricket team, spending Saturday afternoon and Sunday practicing in one of their yards. He wasn’t really friends with any of the cricket blokes anymore – not since he caught them beating up a classmate two years ago. Racist pricks. Jumped Charles too, and he probably would’ve gotten worse than a few bruises if it hadn’t been for Crystal – a new friend back then – picking him up from practice that day and threatening to call the police on all their asses. Anyway – his parents didn’t know about that, so the lie was solid.
Charles was devising this plan behind the register of Amir’s on Wednesday afternoon as he pretended to do his homework. Instead, he doodled on the edges of the paper and dreamed up a scenario in which he would’ve just walked up to his mum like “I want to go on a weekend trip with a friend” and that was it. Somehow, it reminded him of Edwin making him listen to a cast recording of Les Misérables – There is a castle on a cloud. I like to go there in my sleep…
The bell above the entrance rang, hailing customers. But as Charles looked up, he was met with Simon of all people, flanked by two of his moronic friends he had seen last week in front of the Academy. This oughta be good…
Simon sauntered in, making a show of letting critical eyes sweep over the dingy store and looking very much out of place in his fancy coat. Like Edwin did, but in a decidedly more patronizing way. Straightening and crossing his arms, Charles smiled at him. “Oi, if this isn’t my favourite creep! So nice of you to stalk me and pop by.” He would not get intimidated by a posh wanker in – according to Edwin – knock-off Burberry.
Instead of looking at him, Simon turned to his friends with a sneer. “Can you believe it? Hanging out with some pleb working at a dirty shop.” The boys snickered and Charles found himself quickly fed up – the store was perfectly clean and he took as much pride in it as Amir, who scrubbed the floors himself every night after closing.
“Is this the part of the musical when you all start to snap your fingers and dance aggressively at me? Because I’m already shakin’ in my apron over here”, he said dryly, finally drawing Simon’s gaze towards him.
He put on a smile that was probably supposed to seem jovial, but looked much more like a grimace. “Just had to see what Edwin has been working with these days. I’ve got to say, I’m not impressed.”
“Damn, and I try so hard to impress you specifically.” Rather than focusing on Simon standing in front of the register, Charles’ eyes trailed his two friends now wandering through the shop. He was getting a bad feeling about this. “What do you want?”
Simon’s eyes turned dark. “You wouldn’t have anything to do with all four tires of my Porsche suddenly being slashed, would you?”
Now Charles was genuinely surprised, blinking at Simon in confusion. “Huh?”
“Don’t play dumb, Rowland.”
“Uh, you know my last name, scary.”
Now seething, Simon brought his fist down on the counter. Charles stifled a laugh. “Don’t fuck with me!”
“I don’t intend to. From all I hear, you are terrible at it.” There was a crash from the back of the store where the two other guys were loitering. A few tomato cans rolled into view from behind a shelf. So that’s where this was going. Cute.
Simon glared at him, cheeks flushed either in anger or embarrassment. “I’m gonna fucking sue you, Rowland.”
“Try it. I was in school and came right here afterwards. No way I could’ve had time to get to the Academy and vandalize a car I didn’t even know existed until now.” Another crash. Glass this time. Charles glanced towards the security camera Amir had installed above the register after getting robbed a few years ago. Probably had a good angle on those guys. He could get their names from Edwin later. For now, he had to deal with this ridiculousness. Looking at Simon, Charles kept his face carefully neutral. “What exactly are you trying to achieve, son? Coming here, posturing like a prick and for what? You know I didn’t touch your bloody car. You think you can scare me away from Edwin? Love you, babe, but your ex got some weirdos to smash the pasta sauce, I just can’t handle the pressure.”
Simon huffed, jaw and shoulders tensing. “You aren’t good enough for him.”
“That’s something we have in common then. We should start a support group.”
“If you don’t step away from him, you’re going to regret it.”
Enough. Leaning over the register and right into Simon’s space, Charles leveled him with a dark stare. Despite himself, he was pleased to see the half step Simon took away from the counter. “You know what I think, pal? I think you have it worse than me. At least I’m not ashamed of who I am. You? You’re just a fucking ball of nerves and shame and anxiety.” A crash again – this time it sounded like something heavy hitting the linoleum.
Simon bristled. “You don’t know shit about me.”
“Oh I don’t? I know you got a lot of money, but not the kind of inbreeding that makes you someone in this bloody country. I know you have successful parents, but your mum’s constantly in The Sun. I know you are queer but too much of a coward to deal with it, so you had to bash on the only person who ever gave a shit about you.” He smiled then, relishing the silence that had now fallen over the store. Simon’s two friends emerged from the produce aisle, looking a bit adrift. “And I know, for a guy using his fingers for a living, your handjob game is fucking pathetic.”
Simon’s face was beet-red and his hands twitched like maybe he wanted to reach for Charles but didn’t dare to. “We are leaving”, he hissed towards his friends, stomping towards the door.
Now, Charles couldn’t let him have the last word, could he? “Oi, Simon!” The boy looked over his shoulder with a heated glare and Charles grinned. “If you ever start dating again, you might want to get a bit more creative.” Along with this statement, Charles enacted a very vulgar gesture he would never repeat in front of Edwin, for fear of the boy turning into soup on the spot – it included two fingers spread into a V and his tongue.
After work, he met Edwin and the girls for dinner at Dayita’s. Of course, Dayita was delighted that Charles had brought not only Edwin but also Crystal, who she had met before. Naturally, she fell in love with Niko at first glance – who wouldn’t? Within minutes, their table was creaking under the weight of lasan naan, pakora, rice and several bowls of different currys and sauces. She even made a butter chicken especially for Edwin – less spice, way more butter – who felt obligated to clean off the entire bowl in honor of her troubles. Charles tried not to watch him eat and grin like a creep and actually listen to what Edwin was saying about his and Niko’s practice today.
“She desperately wants to perform a Swan Lake piece for the showcase. Groundbreaking, I know. So she was going for the thirty-two fouettés–”
“No!”
“Yes! In bloody Wendy Wu’s of all things unholy. And I told Natalie, I said ‘you’re going to hurt yourself in these, you need proper pointe shoes’, but did she listen?”
Charles shook his head, dipping a piece of naan into creamy lentil curry. “Of course she didn’t, classic Natalie.”
“The little tart even dared to insinuate I didn’t know what I was talking about.”
“After you helped her get the hang of the Kitri variation last year? Honestly, why am I even surprised? Isn’t she the one always ‘borrowing’ the other girls’ scrunchies and never giving them back?”
Niko nodded gravely. “She is! I lost my favourite cat ear scrunchie to her evil ways.”
Edwin sighed in exasperation. “Well, in the end she fell right on her skinny arse. At best, she will walk funny for the rest of the week.”
Charles shook his head. “Well, that’s what you get for trying to fouetté in busted-ass pointe shoes off Amazon. It’s just unsafe.”
“That’s exactly my point! You are a dancer, you only have two feet! And I’m not even mentioning the fact that one shouldn’t attempt that many fouettés if one’s technique is barely up to par to begin with.”
“You would never mention that, babe.”
“I wouldn’t be so crass.”
Crystal stared at them, open-mouthed. “What the hell…”
It was only at this point that Charles became aware of what he had just called Edwin, but since Crystal seemed to have been the only one to notice, he swiftly moved on to tell them about the strange encounter at the store that had him stay late to clean up the mess Simon’s friends had made after calling Amir about it. As he talked – leaving out certain dirty insinuations – Edwin’s face grew dark.
“I am so sorry, Charles. I never should’ve gotten you into this whole ordeal.”
“Oi, quit it. You’re not responsible for the actions of that fucker, are you?”
“Charlie!” Voice from the depths of the kitchen. “None of that dirty language in here!”
“Sorry, aunty!” The woman had bat-like hearing.
Edwin didn’t seem convinced, brows knit and fists balled. “I just knew this would get out of control. I heard him shouting about in the parking lot, when he discovered the slashed tires. It was so strange, I don’t know who...” Edwin frowned, shooting Charles a calculating look. “I mean… Surely, you didn’t–”
“I didn’t!” He held up his hands in innocence. “Although I kinda wish I did.” Frowning he glanced towards Crystal. “Did you...”
“Not my circus, not my monkeys”, she mumbled through a mouth full of Navratan Korma.
The three looked at each other in suspicious confusion, only disrupted by the slurping sound of Niko’s straw. Slowly, three heads turned toward her. They stared for a moment as she gleefully drank her lychee soda before noticing the attention had turned towards her. She swallowed and then smiled her sweetest, most endearing smile. “I heard him say something very nasty about the boys today. Many very bad words.” She shrugged, biting into a piece of naan. “Nasty people don’t deserve tires.”
As Edwin scolded her – although unable to hide his incredulous but fond grin –, Crystal grabbed Charles’ arm like an iron vice, pressing a whisper through her teeth. “She is so hot!”
Charles found himself lucky that he didn’t have to spend five hours with the whole Payne family trapped in a train. Apparently, Edwin’s parents had left for the countryside a few days early to get settled – meaning his mother was commandeering a cleaning staff as his father locked himself in his office to work. So the train ride actually turned out to be quite fun – just him and Edwin, in a comfortable compartment, playing cards and Cluedo. Since Charles didn’t take well to sitting in one spot for long periods of time, they strolled through the train and made up whispered stories about the other passengers.
“No, you don’t get it, mate. Her knitting is actually a secret agent code she needs to hide from the government!”
“It’s crochet, dear.”
At some point, Charles spread himself out over two seats and just listened to Edwin read to him – he had brought The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes. Since they had only left after school and Edwin’s practice, it was already getting dark outside and Edwin was just about finished telling him how the conclusion of The Blue Carbuncle was bogus, for geese didn’t even have crops, when they arrived at their destination.
A cab took them from the train station towards a small town with cobblestone streets and a jumbled mix of centuries in its architecture. It bordered on what Charles was pretty sure would be the estate they were invited to: wide green grounds surrounding a big 18 th century manor that looked like it had seen way better days.
The Payne’s house was located on the outskirts of town, stuck on a slight hill. It was a dark victorian thing and Edwin had been right in his assessment that it was probably haunted. The full moon hanging just over its roof didn’t do shit to soften that impression. “You know”, Charles mumbled towards Edwin as the cabby carried their bags up the stairs and to the front door. “I think my ancestors are telling me not to go in there.”
“And how are they telling you this?”
“Constipation.”
With an amused huff, Edwin took his arm and dragged him along. “Come now, Charles. Nobody died in that house since 1916.”
“Aces…”
They walked through the door, instantly faced with an uncharacteristically frazzled looking Mrs. Payne, phone pressed to her ear. “Oh, boys, you’re here.” She quickly gave her son a one-armed-kinda-hug, before flitting away again. “Your father is still in his office, don’t mind him. You’ll have to excuse me, dear, I am on the phone with Melinda.” She rolled her eyes at Edwin, who gave her a grave nod like he understood the severity of the Melinda-situation. Quickly, she shot Charles something you could interpret as a tight smile before vanishing through the next door and into what one could only assume to be a dark labyrinth occupied by the ghosts of several Christmases.
As beige as the Payne’s townhouse was, as dark was their country house. The ebony floors, while being spotless and shiny, were creaking under their heels, only faintly softened by dark green carpet. On the walls countless portraits depicted a row of quite miserable looking folks sporting historical garments and familiar cheekbones. “Jup”, Charles nodded at the picture of a boy in an Edwardian school uniform that looked a bit too much like Edwin for his comfort. “One-hundred percent haunted.”
Fondly, Edwin rolled his eyes and picked up his bag from the entrance before Charles could get his hands on it. “You didn’t want to believe me.”
“I will never doubt you again.”
Edwin had just put one foot on a staircase with an artfully carved railing, when Mrs. Payne popped her head back out the door she had just vanished through, smothering Melinda’s voice from the telephone against her chest. “Oh, we prepared the blue room for Charles, dear.” She raised a meaningful brow at her son. “No bunking together, are we clear?”
Charles could only smile at the redness creeping into Edwin’s cheeks as he nodded. “Of course, mother.”
He led Charles upstairs and into what he gathered to be ‘the blue room’ – it was aptly named, since the heavy wooden furniture was complimented by blue satin wallpaper and heavy drapery in front of the windows. As Edwin quickly vanished towards his own room, Charles sat his bag down and looked around, feeling weirdly out of place. By now he had gathered that, while not actually titled in any way, Edwin’s family was ridiculously old money, mostly from his mother’s side. Standing in this old room, a carved gargoyle-like creature glaring at him from one of the bedposts, Charles felt way more outlandish than even in the Payne’s townhouse. What the fuck am I doing here? But then Edwin appeared in the doorway again, asking Charles if he was hungry and smiling so sweetly it dissipated all doubts.
They ate in the old, drafty kitchen – left-over shepherds pie from the dinner they missed (Mr. Payne’s dinner, that is, since Mrs. Payne didn’t eat carbs after five o’clock). Apparently, the family employed a local woman named Rita to care for the house in their absence and she also cooked for them when they were there.
“She’s a marvelous person”, Edwin explained, eating with more gusto than Charles had ever seen him with. “Incredibly smart, incredibly kind. My mother has tried several times to get her to move to London, but she is an integral part of the local community. When I was a child, we spent way more time here and she often looked after me. She actually taught me how to tie my shoes and I grew up playing with her daughter, although my father didn’t like it. I think she’s at university now. I’ll have to ask Rita about her tomorrow.”
Charles only stared at him as Edwin recounted a picture book childhood summer spent in the country, reading and catching fireflies and practicing ballet steps on the edge of a lake, falling right in after attempting more difficult moves. Charles pictured himself at that age, playing football on sun-heated asphalt and getting black motor-oil on all his clothes from helping out his father in the shop and jumping over neighbors’ fences to pet their dogs. It was strange to imagine those two summers happening at the same time. As little Charles Rowland learned how to do an oil change, little Edwin Payne learned how to do a pirouette. And now they were grown and sharing shepherd's pie and somehow it fit.
At night, Charles had to deal with the quite humiliating notion of being a bit afraid of a bedframe. The strange creatures carved into every piece of furniture were looking at him. At least he was pretty sure they were. Dimly, he wondered if this was a sort of intimidation tactic of the Paynes or if this house was simply like that. Either way, with the darkness inside and outside and the perpetual hollow groaning of a house this old, Charles could not even begin to entertain the possibility of sleep. Thus, clad in joggers and a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles shirt, that had been demoted to pajamas after Crystal had teased him about it mercilessly, he opened the door without a sound – after all, he was proficient in the art of sneaking wherever and whenever he wasn’t supposed to sneak – and carefully made his way down a long hallway. If the creepy furniture hadn’t been on purpose, the fact that his room and Edwin’s were on opposite sides of the house probably was. As Edwin had explained, his parent’s room was one floor above them, so at least Charles didn’t have to deal with stealthing past them.
It was already after midnight by now, so Edwin was probably asleep, but Charles still tried a tiny knock. There was a creaking beyond the door and then it swung open. Before him stood a slightly disheveled looking Edwin, his hair free of any product and thus curling just a bit. He was wearing black leggings and a loose tank-top that left little to Charles’ overactive imagination. By now he knew what Edwin’s body felt like under layers of often oversized clothing. He had not expected himself to swoon over exposed shoulders. They were very nice shoulders though.
Edwin frowned at him. “Charles?”
He kept his voice to a whisper. “I kinda imagined you in one of those big nightgowns and caps like Ebenezer Scrooge.”
“Keep your dirty fantasies to yourself, would you?”, Edwin grumbled, but stepped aside to let him in.
“Nah, gonna tell your dad all about it”, Charles quipped as Edwin closed the door.
Edwin’s room was just as dark as Charles’, but rather than blue, it was decorated with forest green accents. A light on the nightstand next to the massive four-poster bed – without gargoyles as it turned out (Charles hadn’t known he was signing up for furniture-based warfare, but here he was) –, tinted everything in a warm orange glow, fractured through a mosaic glass lampshade.
“So...” Charles let himself flop on the bed that huffed underneath his weight. It was big, almost wide enough so he could lie in it horizontally. “This place is crazy.”
Edwin himself took a graceful seat next to him, crossing his legs. “I know… When I was little I used to spend hours in this house just looking for hidden passages and mysterious knicknacks.”
“Ever found something?”
“Only an attic filled with old books, I’m afraid. But even back then they seemed just as magical to me.”
Turning on his side, he looked up at Edwin, propping up his head with one hand. “What’s the plan for tomorrow? We wanna spice up that party, don’t we?”
Edwin gave him a lopsided smile. “Well, your overall presence might be disruption enough.”
Charles grinned back, poking him in the side. “Yeah, but come on! We’ve been pretty tame until now.”
“You asked me for fellatio in the halls of Ascot.”
“Like I said: Tame. We need to do something big, really get people talking. What does a scandal look like in your world anyway? Wearing brown shoes with a blue suit?”
“Well... there was that one time the Darlington daughter got caught in the rose garden with the son of Lord and Lady Whickham in... quite the promiscuous position.”
Charles stared at him, mouth hanging open. “They were shagging in the garden?!”
“I’m actually not sure how promiscuous the situation actually was. You know how gossip inflates these things.”
“So... when I made that joke about getting caught with our pants down, that was actually an option?”
“Charles...”
“Oi, just jokin’, mate. I know you don’t want to kiss me. The idea is just so fucking hilarious. Think about it! We are two blokes, they would go mental if we’d make a scene like that.”
Edwin tilted his head slightly to the side, folding his hands in that familiar triangle shape. “Well... I guess it would be quite a display. My parents would be livid.”
Slowly, carefully – like trying not to spook a deer – Charles sat up. “Edwin... are you actually thinking about this? Because you know, we can figure out something outrageous without getting up close and personal.”
He got a side-ways glance. “Would you prefer that?”
“Mate, you know I have zero qualms about kissing you. I’m just trying to keep you comfortable.”
“Which is quite honorable of you. It’s just…” He hesitated, hands now balling into nervous fists Charles wanted to reach for and unfurl. “I don’t have a lot of… or any experience with romantic intimacy that isn’t stunted by self-hatred.”
Charles watched Edwin’s face carefully for any signs of distress, but he just seemed… thoughtful. Stating this soul crushing sentence like it was a simple fact of life. “Well... how far did things even go with Simon?”
Now Edwin looked distressed, but more by Charles’ inquiry than anything else. “Oh my god!” He stood, beginning to pace in front of the bed and he looked so miserable doing it, Charles couldn’t hold a chuckle. “Look, you don’t have to tell me, mate! I’m not judging, am I? I’m a whore and a half myself, nothing to be ashamed about–”
With a frustrated sigh, Edwin let himself fall back onto the mattress, frowning up at the ceiling. “All the way!”
“Huh?”
“With Simon. All the way.”
“All the... oh, you fucked!”
“Charles!” Grabbing his pillow, Edwin sat up to hit it over Charles’ head. With a chuckle and a quick grab, Charles disarmed him and put the pillow out of reach. “Oi, okay, I got it! Honestly, let’s not talk about that tosser anymore, fuck that guy.” He frowned. “I mean... don't fuck that guy, that’s the whole point.”
Edwin crossed his arms, suddenly looking quite petulant – and fucking cute. “You are the worst.”
“Yeah, can’t look at myself in the mirror anymore. But whatever, we were scheming here. And just to make it clear: I’m not gonna touch you if you have issues with it, just to annoy your parents.”
Rolling his eyes, like Charles’ concern was quite the bother to him, Edwin folded himself back into a neat lotus-seat, facing him. “I know, Charles, and that’s not what I meant. I am simply thinking... if we were to do this… to get caught hooking up… I’d prefer being... prepared.”
He blinked at him. “Prepared?”
Edwin didn’t look at him. It was hard to make out in the dim glow of the lamp, but Charles could’ve sworn his cheeks turned rosy. “To know what to expect. Maybe... a practice run?”
“Practice?” There was a peculiar sensation low in his stomach – like falling off a cliff in a dream.
Slowly, Edwin nodded to his clenched hands. “Like you suggested at the British Library? I’m sorry, this is a daft idea–”
“Let’s do it!”
Edwin looked up, eyes wide and completely focused on Charles, who quickly scrambled to paddle back. “I mean– I don’t mean it! I mean, let’s practice.”
With quite a bit of confusion in his eyes, Edwin nodded. “O...okay?”
They stared at each other for a moment, the silence only underscored by the soft ticking of the antique clock on the wall. Charles found himself a bit hypnotized by Edwin’s lips. By now he knew what they felt like under his thumb and grazing his cheek. He wondered…
“Charles?”
“Hm?”
“You may kiss me.”
He blinked himself back to reality. “Right... brills.” Instantly, he wanted to bash his head against a wall. Brills?!
Charles scooted over the mattress so they sat right next to each other, placing a careful hand on one of Edwin’s knees, like a precursor, a test he could pull away from – he didn’t. It was enough to send a bolt of curious excitement through Charles. As Edwin blinked at him, he was all of a sudden overly aware of his lashes. God, he is pretty.
Slowed by hesitation, he leaned in, their lips only a breath apart, the narrow space between them vibrating with anticipation. “Charles?” Was there a hint of impatience? He hoped so.
Their lips brushed together, just touching for a second. Or two.
Charles wanted to savor it, he really did. To take it easy, be mindful, because Edwin was fucking precious and the boy already had enough trouble with intimacy to begin with and for once in his bloody life, Charles wanted to do right by someone. Of course, all of this quickly flew out the window when he felt Edwin shudder against him. Thus, their first kiss wasn’t chaste. It wasn’t all that gentle. It was like falling face-first into a blue oasis after hiking through a treacherous desert. The only solace Charles had was knowing that Edwin took the plunge with him. He drowned in the sweet softness of Edwin’s lips, merely a whisper at first but quickly turning into a smooth glide, the first tentative touch becoming ravenous in an instant. Charles always struggled with focusing on things. His brain tended to get quite foggy whenever he had to keep still or zero in on something he didn’t find particularly interesting. Hell, Edwin himself had turned his brain to mush on several occasions. Not this time. This time Charles’ focus snapped right into place like a rubber band and everything was just – more. Brighter. Sharper.
With one hand on Edwin’s neck and the other gliding from his knee and to his waist, Charles kept him close with gentle pressure. Then the most beautiful sigh slipped from Edwin’s lips and Charles let his grip tighten, earning a gasp for his troubles. Gently. Edwin threaded his long, slender fingers in his hair, pulling experimentally, and Charles’ mouth fell open in a groan of “Fuck…”.
For a second he was just breathing against that beautiful boy in front of him. Maybe he should pull away. Check in. See if Edwin was fine with this – actually fine with this. But when he tried to lean back, Edwin followed him, keeping them locked together, opening his lips in daring invitation. Well, who was Charles Rowland to do anything but follow it?
Hands grabbed Charles’ shirt and Edwin let himself sink into the mattress, drawing Charles with him. Something inside of him cheered at that wordless confirmation that Edwin wanted this as much as he did – wanted him just as much – needed him, hopefully, at least a little. In a matter of seconds they were pressed against each other, Charles balancing himself on one elbow beside Edwin’s head, needing the other hand to roam freely. Beneath him, Edwin seemed to melt into the sheets and Charles wanted to get his tongue and his teeth on all of his most vulnerable places. He could probably spend hours cradled between those thighs, with those fingers in his hair, short nails scratching his scalp, sharing hot breath with beautiful, beautiful Edwin Payne.
His hand slid first over the outside, then the inside of Edwin’s thigh, pressing it wide and oh, just a bit wider before grasping the hollow of his knee and using it to haul him closer, swallowing a surprised gasp in another kiss. Now there were strong legs wrapped around Charles’ hips, tightening in a brainwave-altering way and there was something so frantic about it all. Like they had to scramble and commit as much to memory as possible before it all ended.
Breaking away from Edwin’s kiss was probably the hardest thing Charles had ever done, so he simply dragged his lips over his skin and down to his throat without breaking contact. Edwin’s petulant and simply divine whine of “Char–” quickly gave way to a shuddering sigh. While Charles let his teeth graze perfect pale skin, he felt Edwin’s nails in his neck, just on the cusp of something wicked. As he busied himself with the crook of Edwin’s shoulder, mesmerized by how any glide of his tongue and any scratch of his teeth could evoke the sweetest sounds from that boy beneath him, he let his hands wander. Testing their grip on Edwin’s waist, now that there was only a thin layer of cotton between him and the skin quickly heating under his touch. Dragging them down hips and then up again over Edwin’s sides as he arched into him, chest to chest.
He wanted to move his ministrations lower – God, he really wanted to get lower, to see what perfectly poised Edwin Payne looked like in utter bliss – but Edwin tugged at his hair to coax him into another kiss and naturally, Charles would do anything he wanted as long as it meant he could keep doing this. But at least his hands were free to roam, grabbing at Edwin’s thighs, the hollows of his knees, his arse. There was no art left in kissing each other, just a strange hunger Charles only became aware of now that it was finally being satiated.
“I want you”, he sighed against Edwin’s lips and he wasn’t sure if it was Edwin’s shiver or his own that ran through him.
“Charles...” Then there were hands on his shoulders and they felt different. It only took a little pressure and Charles leaned away, stilled, taking his weight off Edwin, who avoided his gaze. He looked… well, like a vision. A fever dream. With his hair mussed and his lips swollen and a now obvious rosyness to his cheeks, traveling down his neck. But he also took his hands off Charles, holding them close to his chest. Instant panic rattled right through Charles, dissipating any of the lightheadedness the kiss had instilled in him. “You alright, mate?”
Edwin’s face, flushed and uncertain, quickly closed off. Like a shutter being slammed down. “I think this might be enough... practice.”
Charles stared at him, mouth agape but nonetheless removing his hands and sitting back on his heels to give Edwin space. “Practice... practice, right. Are you–”
“We should both go to bed”, Edwin cut him off, drawing his legs away from Charles and sitting up, still only watching his fiddling fingers.
“Yeah … sure…” Charles hesitated a moment longer, trying to ascertain if Edwin was hurt or distressed or … but he shut him out. There was nothing readable on his face. So Charles stood. He wanted to run his fingers through Edwin’s hair and tell him goodnight – maybe kiss him goodnight. He didn’t.
The first thing Charles did after closing the door to the blue room, was reach for his phone. Because he was pretty much losing his mind and anxiety was creeping up his throat and he had to talk to somebody. So he called Crystal. He cringed at the time on his phone screen – nearly one a.m. – but Crystal had a sixth sense when it came to Charles-Rolwand-Emergencies, so of course she picked up. “Who’s dead”, she croaked into the phone, voice still fast asleep.
“So... I might be fucked.”
“Oh, you are.”
Pacing through the room, he told her what had happened – not in so much detail, but still enough so she could get the picture. “And then I said something like ‘Are you okay, mate’ but he... I dunno, he went cold on me.”
“Wait, did you use those exact words?”
He frowned at the gargoyle who seemed to judge him from its perch on the bed-post. “Pretty much, I think...”
“You called him mate?”
Something cold seized him at her tone, although he wasn’t quite sure why yet. “I... yes? I usually do.”
“No, you don’t! You usually call him babe and sweetheart or something like that–”
“It’s ‘sweetness’.”
“That’s worse, you fucking corndog! So you call him all of that, all the time, as a joke... until you make out with him?! Wait, not quite: Until you imply you want to fuck him?!”
Oh. Oh no. “...it sounds really bad when you say it like that.”
“Because it is!”
Suddenly riddled with an unnamed trembling deep inside his chest, he raked a hand through his hair, replaying the scene over and over in his mind. Kissing, glorious kissing and then … “I fucked up bad, didn’t I?”
“You’re in the fucking dog house, dude.”
“Oh god... I called him mate while having my hands on his ass.”
“You’ve been evicted from the dog house. You’re in the yard!”
With a groan he let himself flop face first on the bed, voice muffled by the comforter. “And it’s like... the best ass ever.”
“I take offense to that.”
“You’ve never done a single squat in your entire life.”
“Touché.”
With a sigh, he raised his head off the bed, frowning into the darkness of the room. “What should I do?”
“I mean … do you like him like that?”
His mind was swirling. He liked Edwin, of course he liked Edwin. And liking someone usually felt quite easy to Charles. If you liked them and they liked you, then you kissed and that’s about it. But this … Nothing about this felt easy. It felt big and heavy and real like a weight on his chest – because he couldn’t just fool around with Edwin, could he? Not with that precious boy with the sad eyes and – and he didn’t know shit about real things. Other than what they looked like when they turned real ugly. “... I–... I don’t know. And I don’t know if he likes me like that either. Maybe I’m just going mental over here.”
“Well... better figure it out, dude. If you don’t, this whole thing is bound to blow up right in your face.”
Charles slept like shit. Which was to be expected. For hours, he kept tossing and turning in this fucking creepy-ass bed, mind oscillating between skin-heating images of that blasted kiss and the ice-cold memory of Edwin shutting him out right after that.
Sometime during the night he must’ve lost consciousness, because the next thing he knew there was a banging at the door. He opened his eyes – instantly faced with the fucking gargoyle, so he was right awake. Stumbling out of bed and wobbling towards the door, his brain graciously took the opportunity to remind him of how badly he had fucked up during the night. Only to be immediately faced with Edwin on the other side of the bedroom door, frowning at him before Charles even had a chance to brush his teeth. He was already dressed in slacks and a white dress-shirt, hair perfectly in place like it always used to be.
Charles opened his mouth to say something – maybe Good Morning or sorry for the confusing snog session – but Edwin simply placed a hand on his chest and pushed him back into the room, following along and giving the door a small kick to shut it behind them. Charles really tried to ignore how hot that move was, which turned out to be futile, since Edwin wordlessly – and with quite rosy cheeks, now that Charles hat gotten a good look at him – proceeded to unbutton the collar of his shirt.
“Uhm–”
Before Charles could say anything to make himself look like even more of a prick, his mouth dried up. There was a line of hickeys traveling from under Edwin’s ear, down his throat and vanishing into his collar. Charles stared, his face on fire. Inside him, a bad conscience battled with a roaring fire. The worst part of him wanted to pull Edwin to bed – the damage was already done, why not extend it? But Edwin had put a stop to things last night and Charles wouldn’t gamble his trust over something as trivial as his own raging hormones, so he opted for the less horny response: “Damn… Now that’s what a scandal looks like, mate.” Instantly he bit his tongue, but Edwin just sighed in exasperation.
“Certainly. Truly some of your best work, I must say.” With a lopsided smile, he patted Charles’ shoulder like one would after a good game of soccer. “I am sure we will make quite the scene today, old friend.”
The word friend hit Charles like an anvil, Looney Tunes style. “Uh–... yeah... sure. Job jobbed... or whatever. So, um... about that. About… last night… where are we with that whole... boundaries stuff?”
Edwin shrugged, and his nonchalance felt like Charles had missed a step on a very steep staircase. “I guess I am fine with kissing, now that I know what to expect. Although you might want to tone it down a bit. If you are truly okay with it. I wouldn’t want to impose.”
“Nah, I–... I’m fine with kissing.” I thought that was fucking obvious.
With a curt nod, Edwin turned towards the door. “Great. Better get dressed. We will depart for the Whickham estate in about an hour.” Before leaving, he shot Charles a look and a smile that – finally – felt a bit more like the Edwin he had gotten to know over the past weeks, rather than the knot of utter discomfort Charles had first met him as. “I always hate these things, you know… so I’m glad you are here with me. It’s going to be fun.”
Charles smiled back, feeling the tension in his shoulders ease. Maybe he hadn’t fucked up that badly. “Gonna make sure of it.”
The car ride to the estate was the first time since Ascot Charles had been in the vicinity of Mr. Payne. Who, to his credit – after seeing the state of his son’s throat and turning dark purple about it – simply pretended Charles wasn’t in the car with him. Charles was fine with that, since he was way too preoccupied with staring at Edwin, letting his eyes roam over his delicate features and preppy blue vest and darling bow tie. He wanted to mess him up so bad. Now that he knew what his lips felt like, what his skin tasted like, what he sounded like when … well, it made Edwin’s overall person a lot more distracting than it already was to begin with.
After trying and failing to get Edwin to put on some makeup to cover their ‘indiscretion’, Mrs. Payne was talking the whole twenty-minute ride, reminding her husband about all the people that would be in attendance and who they needed to talk to and what topics shall not be discussed and who was to be avoided. She did all of this with a deceptive air of cool composure, only betrayed by the hands in her lap being balled into fists.
Arriving at the edge of the estate grounds, some guy in a perfectly ironed uniform – a valet, as Edwin explained, because apparently people had those – took the car keys from Mr. Payne and opened the wrought iron gate, leading them on a gravel path that drew a straight line towards the main manor. Even by English standards, the lawn – was it still a lawn if it was as wide as a football field? – was pristine. Charles wondered what poor fucker had to keep up with that day in and day out. Hedges were trimmed to bizarre roundness and the last remnants of roses were arranged in neat oblongs along the path.
The manor itself was towering, all brown brick and tall windows and wide staircases. The tall entrance was open and guests in an array of suits and tea-dresses filed into a grand foyer to be greeted by an elderly couple that had to be Lord and Lady Whickham.
Looking up to the high ceilings painted with fading clouds and angels, Charles had the sudden urge to roll down the sleeves and straighten out the cuffs of his flannel button-up – the only faint nod to decorum he had. Besides him, Edwin seemed to pick up on his tension. Taking Charles’ hand and leaning against his side, he whispered: “Isn’t this just crazy?”
Charles wanted to point out how crazy the Payne’s own home was, but instead he laced their fingers together. “Fucking crazy.”
They followed Edwin’s parents to greet their hosts. Lord Whickham was a man that was huge in every dimension, from his gut to his mustache, wearing an honest to god monocle. (“Why does he kinda look like the Monopoly man?” Edwin had to press his face into Charles’ shoulder to stifle his laugh.) Lady Whickham was a tiny rotund woman in florals, wearing a big smile and an even bigger satin rose in her cotton-candy hair and the way she squinted her eyes at anyone and anything lead Charles to believe that she was probably half-blind. Patting Edwin’s hand in greeting, she croaked in a thin voice: “So good to see you, deary. Oh, and who is that exotic young man with you?”
He could basically feel Edwin cringe next to him, but before he could answer, Charles simply stretched out his hand with a grin. “Charles Rowland. Exotic by birth, boyfriend by choice. I’m even house-trained!”
While the Paynes and other guests in earshot visibly bristled at him, Lady Whickham chuckled in delight, taking his hand in both of hers. “Oh, you are a funny one, I like that. Henry”, she turned towards her husband, still grasping Charles’ hand. “We never have funny guests. Remind me to invite this young man to all our parties.”
“Certainly, my dear.”
Once she finally released Charles from her clutches, he could follow Edwin and his parents into the grand dining hall. Edwin looked at him curiously, shaking his head. “Have you ever not charmed anyone you met?”
“What can I say? My smile is pretty convincing.”
“It certainly is.”
The dining hall was a long rectangle decorated in as many florals as its hostess. Tall windows opened up the view to more of the perfectly manicured garden and the tables were dressed in white cloth, polished silver, and gold-rimmed porcelain. Before anyone could even get close to a table though, Mrs. Payne dragged the three men in her company to take a turn around the hall and meet … everyone.
There was a guy in his fifties, clad in grey, who barely finished his greetings before launching into the apparently riveting tale of buying a Bugatti. “Just a toy, really. You know, a hobby! Everybody’s got one.” From the corner of his eye, Charles could see Edwin and his mother sharing a look he would dare to translate as something along the lines of what a prick. He was inclined to agree.
After that came a seemingly never ending streak of women with incredibly high hair-do’s, incredibly dull husbands and incredibly grating voices Mrs. Payne had to exchange stiff air-kisses with, before being able to move on. Not many acknowledged Charles or even Edwin specifically, which was fine by him, although he was pretty sure it wasn’t by luck so much as by intention. He did catch a few strange looks coming his way and he was keenly aware how white the whole ordeal was, both in colour and excitement. He did catch the eye of the only other brown person in the hall, a girl probably a few years older than him, holding the arm of a guy in a suit and glasses. They exchanged commiserating glances before turning back towards their respective dates. Charles hoped glasses-guy was worth the trouble.
They also met a young blonde man named Hunter and judging from Edwin’s immediate attempt to duck behind a table piled high with glasses only to be dragged over by his mother to exchange pleasantries, he must’ve been the duke-to-be. If Charles had expected another confrontation like with Simon, he was disappointed. Hunter, while having a perfectly punchable face, seemed to simply be a harmless douche with the overall flair of dry oats, who called women “luv” and men by their name and seemed happy to spend his day trying and failing to get anyone excited about Bitcoin.
It seemed like the painful trudge through pleasantries would never end, until Lady Whickham appeared with a glass bell to announce the beginning of service like a bloody fairy godmother, sending everyone towards their seats.
The food was divine – if anything, this scheme had really gotten Charles some great culinary experiences. Accompanied by tea perfumed with rose and bergamotte, artfully arranged Eggs Benedict were served alongside savory and sweet pasties, pastel-frosted petit four and even steaming curry – although the latter was quite bland for Charles’ taste. While Lord Whickham, well, lorded over a table of men Mr. Payne seemed quite miffed about not being invited to, Lady Whickham flitted through the hall with a somehow constantly filled Champagne flute in hand, her cheeks growing more and more red by the minute as she graced each and every table with her presence.
It was only once the food was gone, which – in Charles’ opinion, who was used to family gatherings that were pretty much ninety-percent only eating with each other – was way too quick, that things started to get dicy, since now people began to mingle. And god did he hate mingling. To his delight, so did Edwin, so they escaped during a particularly droning conversation about the stock market and out of the dining hall.
“Don’t get me wrong, mate”, Charles muttered as they wandered away, their steps echoing in the empty halls. “Lady Whickham seems like a delightful nutty bat, but I hate her friends.”
Solemnly, Edwin nodded. “Oh, that’s pretty much the common sentiment. These people all hate each other.”
“Where are we even going?” Edwin was walking with so much purpose, he had to have a specific destination in mind. His smile was crooked and left Charles a bit warm under the collar. “Towards scandal, dear.”
They ended up in the estate’s library, a two-storied room with dark wooden shelves lining every possible wall, surrounding a heavy desk and a group of giant leather armchairs. A spiral staircase led onto a gallery with even more shelving, and it seemed like the whole room was pretty much build of books rather than brick. Charles took a turn about, honestly a bit impressed. “Okay, this kinda slaps.”
“It’s my favourite part of the estate.” Edwin smiled and leaned against the desk, letting his eyes roam over the hundreds of leather-bound volumes. “When we are in town, Lady Whickham sometimes invites my mother and me for tea. When I was younger they always allowed me to go read in here instead.”
Charles turned towards him with a smile. “Doesn’t sound like there are only bad people here, does it?”
“There is a saying about a broken clock being right twice a day.”
Shrugging, Charles walked over to him. “So. What are we going to do to get these people proper scandalized?”
With a teasing grin, Edwin straightened. “Well … every year during this brunch, Lord and Lady Whickham take their guests on a tour through the estate to show off the restauration progress and any newly acquired status symbols. This tour will inevitably lead here.” He checked a clock on the desk. “Which should be shortly.”
“And when they walk in, we will be busy.”
“You read my mind.”
Chuckling, Charles shook his head. “You know, you have to live with these people after this.”
“I’m hoping to burn some bridges, to be frank. Maybe I won’t have to attend as many dull brunches anymore.”
“Right… okay, let me set the scene.” Charles was looking around the stately library, trying to formulate a plan and ignoring all the while what his body thought of the idea of pretend snogging Edwin.
“Trying to scrape together my best romantic lead performance. Gotta get my Fabio on, right?” Clapping his hands, he grinned at Edwin before beginning to unbutton his flannel shirt. He was pretty sure Edwin’s eyes followed his motions. “Okay, imagine me in a way flowy pirate shirt and you are in some Bridgerton type get up –”
Edwin snorted. “The suits or the dresses?”
He considered that. “You’d look so cute in both. Anyway! Picture us on the cover of one of those bad 80s backbiter romance novels. You know, with titles like Taken by the Pirate or The Highlanders Passion.”
“What did the poor Highlanders ever do to the publishing industry?”
“Don’t ask me, ask Barbara Cartland.”
“I shall write to her estate in an instant.” There was a mischievous glint in Edwin’s eye as he sauntered over to one of the shelves just opposite the door containing dozens and dozens of gilded books. Leaning against it, he fit right in. “What do you think? You could have me against the 19th century poetry section.”
Charles’ brain came to a screeching halt. He got the vision and walking up to Edwin made something churn deep in his gut. Right. Pretending. Acting. Making a scene. Right… He was no stranger to gathering someone up in his arms to kiss them. But Edwin did not wait for him to finish his small mental breakdown and get with the program. Instead, he simply placed his hands on Charles’ shoulders and, with the tiniest of hops, seemed to basically float into the air before hooking his legs around Charles’ hips.
“That's hot.” The words just slipped out and Charles wanted to bite his tongue, but Edwin simply blinked at him. “That’s basic physics.”
Charles took a moment to face the fact that his fake-boyfriend was climbing him like a bloody tree and didn’t even seem to consider this anything of note, before placing his hands under Edwin’s thighs to take at least some of the weight. It wasn’t even hard to carry him, since Edwin seemed perfectly capable of holding himself up just by virtue of his posture, strong thighs keeping him in place. “Well, it’s physically really hot.”
“Charles, concentrate. You are here to ravish me, not to flirt with me.”
“I am getting so many mixed signals here, mate.”
“Oh, you know what I mean!”
“Spell it out for me. Slowly. Lots of adjectives.”
Edwin rolled his eyes at him. “Sometimes I’m not sure why I put up with you.”
“Because I am the only one who kinda fucks with your overall bitchyness?”
“Thanks for reminding me.”
Leaning Edwin against the bookshelf, Charles found himself almost pressed chest to chest with him. Long fingers tugged playfully at his open collar, slipping the fabric off one shoulder. “I was wondering why I was seeing you in a shirt with buttons for the very first time. Did you premeditate this?”
“...maybe.” Edwin laughed right in his face. “Oi, stop it! I am trying to ravish over here!” He couldn’t help but chime in, laughter filling the small space between them, making it warm and bright.
“Oh, excuse me!”, Edwin snorted. “Shall I melt in your arms?”
“A good swoon would do the trick, thank you.”
“Well, let me get ready to swoon then.” A bolt of lightning shot right down Charles’ spine as Edwin undid his bowtie, letting it fall to the floor before unbuttoning his collar – not as much as Charles, just enough to reveal the hickey lower on his clavicle.
“Some of my best work”, Charlies quipped, repeating Edwin’s words back to him and trying to keep things light, but his voice was way too hoarse and it somehow didn’t sound like a joke.
“You should look into vampirism. You seem to have a knack for it.”
“Are you pulling my chain?”
With a smirk, Edwin hooked a finger on Charles’ necklace, giving it a tug. “Would you like me to?”
Suddenly, Charles was privy to the real-time creation of new synapses in his brain. “Well, dump a fuck-ton of glitter on me and call me Edward.”
“I am more of a Dracula girl myself.”
“Aces, I can do a great lizard impression.” He stuck out his tongue, wiggling it like an idiot, but it was worth it to have Edwin crumble against him, pressing his face into Charles’ shoulder to stifle his giggles. Whatever strange residue of tension had been lingering between them from the night before was now gone and forgotten as they found themselves relaxing into each other. Faintly, Charles recognized that this felt easy. Natural even. Snickering like the school boys they barely were anymore and sneaking into corners to mess around. So Charles allowed himself to lean in for something he had been thinking of doing for weeks now. His teeth met Edwin’s throat, not in a gentle graze, but with intent. Despite the fact that it was supposed to be a joke, the gasp falling from Edwin’s lips shifted something in the air…
The door flew open.
“And as you can see, the stucco in the library – oh, dear.”
They froze. Charles slowly turned his head to look over to a quite confused Lady Whickham – still with her magically filled glass in hand – and behind her about fifty of the guests who stared at them like … well, like they had just found two teenagers hooking up in a library.
Out of all the openly shocked faces, Charles’ eyes snagged on Mr. Payne, who looked at his son with so much distaste, Charles felt his whole body tense. He pretty much made up his mind then. He would clock that middle-aged beige prick if he dared to say a single word. Would he get Charles arrested? Pretty sure. But he was all too willing to accept that risk for the gratification of breaking the tosser’s nose.
For a moment, there was only silence and staring. Then Charles realized how rigid Edwin had become in his arms, probably regretting every choice that led to this very moment. So Charles did what he did best. “Oi, occupied!”
Edwin dissolved into bellowing laughter.
They were still giggling and teary-eyed when they came back to the Payne’s country house. They had been sent away by a red-faced Mrs. Payne, who had ushered her aubergine-coloured husband off towards the closest source of alcohol in order to deal with them, after which she stomped away to apologize profusely to their hosts. Although Lady Whickham seemed to be perfectly delighted by all the excitement. “That’s why we should invite more young people, Henry! They always shake things up!”
“Certainly, my dear…”
The boys didn’t care about getting scolded, or even all the stares and murmurs following them out of the estate. More so, they celebrated by packing their bags and jumping on the first train back to London. “I don’t really want to be here, when my father comes home”, Edwin had said, and Charles had taken it as his cue to whisk him away.
If you asked him later, Charles wouldn’t be able to tell you how they spent the next five hours. He just remembered laughing a lot and making fun of the way a very confused Hunter had clapped Edwin on the back, holding up a thumb like good job before they had left.
Then, somehow hours later, they stumbled off the train and instead of going home, they decided to meet the girls at the Hurdy-Gurdy – a dingy little theater in the watch-pocket of London that exclusively hosted one-woman shows, comedy open mics and drag performances, accompanied by fried food and cheap pints. Crystal and Niko huddled together in a booth to make room for them, as a tall, glittery drag queen in a bedazzled Rainbow Dash costume lip-synced to Pink Poney Club – duh.
To everyone’s surprise Edwin ordered a round of gin and tonic for the table, including himself. At their aghast faces, he just shrugged. “It’s some kind of lemon water, I suppose.”
Between performances, they told the girls about their shenanigans at the Whickham estate and Niko hit notes in her squealing only dogs could hear, while Crystal shot Charles looks he didn’t really want to decipher right now. Because Edwin was pressed up against him, so Charles could bury his face in the crook of his neck, lips brushing pale skin when he talked.
Afterwards – it was maybe two a.m – with the girls safely at home, Edwin and Charles were stumbling arm in arm through the richer parts of London, half-screaming about a Highway to Hell and about what it sounds like When Doves Cry and H-O-T T-O G-O (including the dance, obviously), in between posh townhouses, breathing in huge gulps of autumn night air that tasted like starlight. Halfway down his street, Edwin grabbed Charles’ hand to show him how to dance a rumba and the smooth gliding steps and slight swing of Edwin’s hip under his hand made it Charles’ new favourite dance. Way better than the waltz, thank you. They probably looked and sounded like drunk lunatics, though they were pretty much sober, at least in the alcohol department. No argument on the lunatic part.
Again and again Edwin leaned into Charles, like maybe he wanted to kiss him, but whenever Charles came closer he would take a quick half-step away with a teasing grin. Charles only caught up with him at the Payne’s house, their lips brushing quickly, before Edwin opened the door and bid him goodnight with a sparkle in his eyes.
Damn... Charles was falling, wasn’t he? A tiny, hysterical part of him wanted to bang on the door and shout it at Edwin, to gather him up in his arms and kiss a confession into his skin.
But they had time, right? Time to sober up and get thoughts in order and look at each other during daylight when it probably meant more. So he stood there only for a few more heartbeats, smiling when the light in Edwin’s window went on. And then he made his way home.
Just a few years ago, Charles had been lanky enough to slip through the small window of his basement bedroom when sneaking in and out during unspeakable hours. Not anymore – guess that’s what growing up means. So when he arrived at their house, he turned his key slowly in its lock, cringing at every tiny sound. He opened the door just enough to slide through sideways and closed it as softly as he could, holding his breath all the while. Mission successful, he took two, three quiet steps.
A light went on in the living room.
The sweat in his neck turned to ice.
Chapter 6: Staying The Night
Notes:
Trigger warning: Mentions/Implications of physical abuse. Nothing explicit will be described. Please be kind to yourself.
Just like with the Edwin chapter I want to remind you all, that we are doing Hurt & COMFORT.
Chapter Text
03:00 a.m.
Charles had not seen the vase coming. The belt he knew, the fists he could block quite well. Throwing things was a recent development, he hadn’t really honed his senses to it yet. So now there was a ringing in his left ear and blood running down his temple. He was dripping on the floor of the tube and people were doing their best not to look at him. There probably was a depressing statement about society somewhere in there. Faintly, he remembered being deliriously happy only an hour before, drunk on barely any beer and a whole lot of Edwin Payne. Currently, he was numb. Skin crawling under the blood slowly drying on his face.
Amidst his father’s screaming and his mother’s sobbing, Charles had fled. There had been a time when he wouldn’t have run for fear of dad turning on mum. But by now Charles knew that he wouldn’t. He was the source of all his dad’s anger. Mum was actually safer when he wasn’t home. Still... it always felt like treachery when he left.
Before he knew where he was actually going – usually he found his way to Crystal like this, somehow, body on autopilot – he stood in front of the Payne’s townhouse. He hesitated. He should leave. He would scare the shit out of Edwin. Hell, he had scared the shit out of Crystal often enough. He could find a bench somewhere in Hyde Park and hunker down... it was cold as fuck. He would probably go hypothermic.
Briefly, he considered climbing the huge oak tree up to Edwin’s window but even though the bleeding had stopped by now, he felt a bit dizzy. So he checked that the Payne’s Bentley was not in the driveway – oh yes, they were still in the countryside. The silly library escapades had only been hours before. Thus, he rang the doorbell like a person and waited. Maybe Edwin was already asleep. Probably. He almost made up his mind to just leave when the door opened and there was Edwin and his sleepy face was like a cool stream of water, washing away the hot pounding in Charles’ skull. Even as it changed from surprise to horror. “Charles…”
He didn’t shout, a fact Charles appreciated. But the whisper sounded so heartbreaking he instantly regretted coming here. Although it was nice to see Edwin in his home-alone get up of leggings and an oversized t-shirt he was practically drowning in. It was cute. He looked so much like only a night ago when they had first kissed. Charles tried a smile. It might’ve been a grimace. “You got a band aid, mate?”
This spurred Edwin into action. He quickly took Charles’ arm and dragged him inside, shutting out the autumn night. “What happened? Oh god, there’s so much blood. Did you get into an accident on your way home?”
“...something like that.”
“I’m gonna call an ambulance.”
“No, you’re not.” He grabbed Edwin’s wrist, maybe a bit too hard, but Edwin just stared at him in utter shock and concern. “I’m fine, Edwin. Just a little cut, innit.”
“You could have a concussion.”
Charles scoffed at him. “I know what a concussion feels like, mate. Seriously, I’m fine. I just... needed to see you.” Huh. He had been aiming for wanted to see you. But needed felt more honest anyway.
A few minutes later, he sat on Mrs. Payne’s shiny marble kitchen counters as Edwin softly dabbed away at the crusted blood on his face. Desperately, Charles tried to fight back the sick feeling in his stomach at Edwin’s achingly gentle touch. It wasn’t fair. Intellectually, he knew that Edwin had nothing to do with this. That his father didn't have some kind of sixth sense to alert him whenever Charles kissed a boy. That being with Edwin wasn’t what had set him off. Nothing set him off, nothing but Charles stepping out of line. He was an adult. At least on paper. By now he should be allowed his own line. To kiss whoever wanted to kiss him back. Still... The same fingers that had caressed his neck in that mind-altering way just last night now made him feel like throwing up. He tried to consider this exposure therapy.
“What if you need stitches?”
Edwin had to ask twice because Charles had just realized that his nightshirt had slipped off one shoulder. It was a very pretty shoulder. His mind was a jumbled mess of wanting Edwin closer and wanting to heave into a toilet. “I don’t. Believe me, it’s half as bad as it looks. Head wounds just bleed like a bitch and a half.”
Their eyes met, Edwin pressing his lips together to keep in whatever questions were rumbling around in that genius brain of his. Probably something along the lines of How would you know what needs stitches and what not? and Why do you know so well what a concussion feels like? or maybe even How come you can discern a dislocated shoulder at a distance?... Something like that.
Up close, Charles could see stray pieces of micro-glitter stuck on Edwin’s cheeks – one had to accept them as a logical consequence of simply being in the general vicinity of the Hurdy-Gurdy. Faintly, he wondered if they had given him away to his dad. He flinched as Edwin touched the sore skin under his right eye. “Sorry... I suppose you will have quite the shiner.”
“Gonna look like a bum at that Diamond Ball thing of yours.”
Edwin frowned at him. “Don’t think about that. Ever.” With a sigh, his features smoothed out as he carefully put a band aid over the now clean cut on Charles’ forehead. “It’s going to be fine, dear.”
“You know, you don’t have to call me that when we’re alone.”
Edwin blinked at him like he only just now realized what he had said, hesitating for only a split second but his face stayed carefully neutral as he nodded. “Okay.” His hands left Charles’ face. Which was a relief. And utter shit. “I think this is about all I can do for you. Better go to an actual doctor on Monday.”
“Sure.” As if. Instinctively, Charles raised a hand to touch the band aid and winced. The skin around the cut was already hot and swollen.
Edwin gave him a crooked smile and grabbed a glass out of a cupboard, walking up to the sink to fill it for Charles. Edwin’s face as he handed it to him was so stern that Charles drank the water without protest. Suddenly, his head felt a bit lighter. Figures. “Give me a few minutes, I will get a guest room ready for you.”
“Nah, mate, I’m gonna head out.”
“Don’t!” Charles had to blink several times to fully register that Edwin had grabbed his hand. “You are hurt, you need someone to look after you.”
With a snort, Charles sat the glass down. “I really don’t.”
Edwin considered him, teeth scraping at his bottom lip. Suddenly, hysterically, Charles remembered pushing his thumbnail into it and watching it bloom red. His hands were shaking so he stuffed them into the pockets of his hoodie. “Please stay. I... I don’t really like being all alone in the house at night. It’s scary.”
Charles blinked at him. “Right.” Fucking hustler.
“It will piss off my parents when they catch you here tomorrow”, Edwin tried again and Charles sighed, knowing he got made.
“Alright. But don’t bother with a bed. Gonna lie down on the couch. Maybe I can get some blood on the antiques, make your mum flip even more.”
Edwin frowned at him. “Charles, you need actual sleep in an actual bed. Don’t worry, I will stay awake and look after you.”
“If you don’t sleep, I won’t either.”
“That’s ridiculous, you need to rest!”
“... I don’t really want to sleep though. Don’t think I can.” Not with his father waiting for him in the darkness behind his eyelids. A fully bloody replay, over and over. “If you want me to stay, you’ll have to deal with me not sleeping.”
With a sigh, Edwin slowly nodded. As compromises, went this one left both parties equally unhappy, thus it was fair. “...alright. We’ll stay awake together.”
04:00 a.m.
“Won’t you tell me what happened to–” Edwin’s voice broke, swept away by a shuddering breath. They were sitting in his room, Charles reclined on the bed in an attempt to sooth Edwin’s fussing. He sat right next to him on the edge of the mattress, watching him with wide eyes, hands balled into shaking fists.
“Oi. Don’t cry...”
“I’m not!”
“Oh yeah? What’s this then?” Charles sat up, reaching out. His hands felt way too rough when cradling a face so fragile. But it also felt achingly right. There were tears clinging to Edwin’s lashes for dear life and when they inevitably fell he gently swiped them away with his thumb. “Come on, nothin’ of that. No reason to get teary with me.”
“I’m worried about you”, Edwin whispered, hands unfurling to grasp Charles’ wrists.
Charles tried a smile, this time a bit more successfully, although Edwin didn’t seem that convinced. “Don’t be, mate. I’m fine, am I not?”
“You’re hurt.” It sounded like something ripped the words from Edwin's throat. More tears.
He shrugged, busying himself with carefully brushing his fingertips over the shell of Edwin’s ear, trying not to look him in the eye. “I’ve had worse.”
“Do you think that makes anything better?” Edwin was crumbling. Actually sobbing now. Kept it together long enough to take care of Charles, but now all bets were off. He never could’ve imagined seeing Edwin Payne cry. He hadn’t even cried when talking about bloody Simon and his ‘unkindness’. But he was crying for Charles. And it was such a strange sight. Eyes all glassy and red and despair written all over his face. Because of Charles. “Don’t you care?”
“Of course I care about you, lo–“
“Dear god, Charles, that’s not what I’m talking about!” Oh. “Don’t you care about yourself? For yourself? Don’t you care about being hurt?”
Silence.
“You’re one to talk.”
Edwin’s breath hitched. Like Charles had just hit him. He felt sick again. “I wouldn’t have dragged you into this mess with my family if I didn’t care about myself.”
“Arguable.”
Silence.
Staring at each other – suddenly it felt like they were fighting. Were they fighting?
“...you have an old cigarette burn on your shoulder.”
Charles couldn’t control his flinch. For a split second, he was eight years old and just as frightened. The little scar was ten years old, very small, perfectly round and only a bit lighter than the rest of his skin. “How…?”
“Lady Whickham’s library.”
Well, fuck. “So that’s what you focus on when I strip for you. Good to know”, he tried to joke. It didn’t sound right.
But Edwin’s eyes got soft again, brow furrowing. “It’s your father, isn’t it?”
Silence.
He shouldn’t have come.
Edwin squeezed his wrists, maybe a bit hard, but it reminded Charles that he was a person – solidly corporeal. “Don’t pull away from me. Please.” Charles was pretty sure he hadn’t moved a muscle. His hands were still holding Edwin’s face like it was something precious. It was.
“Should’ve known you would pick up on it. You’re just so bloody clever. I like that about you.” He loved that about him. Charles didn’t know shit about love. Other than the fact that it apparently looked like smashed vases and sounded like crying and felt like a dislocated shoulder.
“You only ever talk about your mother”, Edwin murmured by way of explanation. “For a while I thought it was only you two. When you mention him… your voice is different. And Crystal gets that look in her eye when you talk about him in her presence… So I gather she knows.”
“Always thought you had trouble reading people. That another one of your cons? Make ‘em think you don’t catch on to shit?”
Edwin pressed his lips together, averting his eyes and Charles instantly felt like the worst person alive. The venom was brewing so close under his skin after each time his father lost his temper. That’s how Charles knew it was hereditary. “I don’t–… I never tried to pretend to be anything other than what I am. Not with you. I don’t have an issue with reading people. I simply struggle with the meaning of the signals.”
“But my signals are just as fucked up as yours, so you get them.”
“You can’t compare–”
“Don’t fucking start. Not playing trauma olympics with you. I’m saying we match each other’s damage. It’s a good thing. Fucked, but good.”
Edwin considered this for a moment, thumbs drawing circles on Charles’ wrists like he was digging for a pulse. “Is your mother safe?”
Sudden, overwhelming, golden affection bloomed in Charles’ chest. It felt so special that Edwin asked about her. He didn’t even know her. But he knew how much Charles loved her, so of course he cared. “She is. He’s better when I’m gone. That’s why I want to move out as quickly as possible.”
“The reason you need the money.” Always quick to catch on that one.
“Yeah... When I get my own place, I’m gonna ask mum to come with.”
“You think she will leave your father?”
He shrugged. “Worth a shot, innit? If she has another place to go, maybe she will. Most of her family is back in India. And my dad pretty much isolated her from the rest. He... made sure he was all she ever had.” With a sigh, he studied Edwin’s face, seeing the determination in there and before he even had time to open his mouth, Charles intervened. “I won’t take handouts or loans, okay? Crystal already tried. Several times.”
“Not even for your mother?”
Fucking bastard. Fucking con-man. Fucking schemer. Fucking... It didn’t take any pull for Edwin to release his wrists. Charles stood – he had to, because just as quickly as fondness had erupted inside of him, so did anger. It was always ready and waiting for him to let it seep in. Waiting for a crack in his cool, lurking just under the surface to pounce whenever he wasn’t paying enough attention. And he didn’t want to be angry when Edwin was this close, so he walked away from the bed, feeling his body tense with the effort of holding it together. “She’s alright. He only goes for me.”
“And you’re fine with it?”
“I’m used to it.”
Edwin was crying again. Trying to look away and not burden Charles with his tears. Like his mother always did when he said that. And just like with her, Charles could only stand and watch. He was barely any better than his dad, was he?
05:00 a.m.
“Two truths and a lie.”
“Excuse me?”
They were sitting in opposite corners of the room. Charles in ‘his’ armchair, Edwin at his desk, both pretending to read while watching the other. Seeing which one of them would cave first. Of course, it would be Charles since it was 5 a.m. and no way in hell would he be able to stand Shakespeare for more than a few minutes. “Two truths and a lie. Let’s play.”
Edwin blinked at him, considering the idea. Slowly, he put down A Study in Scarlet. “Very well... you start.”
Charles huffed out a puff of air, tapping Shakespeare on his knee as he thought up his first three statements. Nothing too heavy. Something to lift the mood. “I was twelve when I drove a car for the first time. As a kid I ran a very lucrative contraband candy business on the neighborhood playground. And... I can do a backflip.”
Edwin scoffed at him. “You can’t do a backflip!”
“I would show you if all my blood was still inside my body.”
“I will hold you to that once you are better.” They smiled at each other. Edwin’s eyes were still a bit red and Charles still felt as raw as the wound on his forehead. But they smiled at each other. With a contemplative look, Edwin put his book down, turning his chair so he could comfortably look at Charles. “Well...”, he mused. “If I believe your claim about the backflip – and granted, you are quite athletic, I could see it – then the question is what kind of criminal energy is more befitting to you. While I can see you easily starting a candy crime syndicate, even today –”
“Oi!”
“You did grow up around a garage, so it would track that you would’ve learned to drive early on.” Narrowing his eyes at him, Edwin watched Charles’ face, probably for any clue. He tried to keep it as neutral as possible. He would have to be more careful now that he knew Edwin could read him more easily than he had anticipated. “I say the candy dealing is the lie.”
“Damn, you’re a regular Sherlock Holmes.”
“All the reading finally paid off.”
“But actually, you’re wrong.”
Edwin’s brows shot up. “You mean to tell me–”
“Still can’t drive for shit, but I did run what was basically a candy pyramid scheme when I was six.”
“How?!”
Grinning, Charles stood and walked over to Edwin, because suddenly they felt way too far apart from each other and he had to rectify that in an instant. So he perched on the edge of Edwin’s desk, setting a foot on the armrest of his chair to turn it towards him in blatant disregard of any personal space. “Well, it all started when my mate Hasan became obsessed with Pokémon cards…”
They were sitting on the floor – lying rather. Swapping happy childhood stories instead of talking about real shit. Edwin was curled up next to him on his plush dark blue carpet and their faces were so close Charles could count his lashes. Right now, Edwin smiled, so his eyes were all bright and not that red anymore. Charles was quite proud of himself for managing that. “I think this is more than you’ve ever talked about yourself.”
“I never stop runnin’ my mouth.”
“And still it feels like I barely know anything about you. I know you play sports, but you speak so little about it, I don't even know if you enjoy it.”
“Guess it’s fun, innit.”
“You are privy to all my class drama and ex-boyfriend issues and yet you only speak about school in terms of your lessons and never even mention your teammates.”
“A bunch of dickheads, not worth mentioning.” He always had that strange notion of not wanting those parts of his life to touch Edwin. As if they could actually taint him.
“What about your friends?”
“You know my friends.”
“I know Crystal and Niko.”
“That’s about it.”
“I can hardly imagine you not being popular.”
“I kinda was at one point. Used to hang out with a bunch of shitheads. Partied a lot. Dated a bunch of girls who I liked too much and they barely liked me.” Or maybe it wasn’t that at all. Charles knew himself, he wanted – needed – everyone to like him so badly it bordered on needy, overbearing. Maybe the girls had liked him plenty and he still was too much. “Then shit went too far and now I’m keepin’ mostly to myself.”
“What does it went too far mean?” Oh no… there was the real shit again. Can’t keep it away tonight.
“… got into a fight when they beat up another student. Just ‘cause he’s Pakistani. I mean, I’m half Indian, why am I so different?”
“They used to be the same country.”
He blinked at him. “...right. Anyway, the lads from the team weren’t that civil with me after that so I’ve kept my head down since then. Stick to Crystal, she’s a real friend for once. And now you and Niko too.”
“Well... I’m glad you found us.”
“Yeah... I’m glad you found me too.” Edwin never gave Charles the feeling he was too much. He let him be overbearing – carrying his things and taking him for food and keeping his hand on his lower back as they walked and leaning on him and touching him and ... In this stupid boyfriend charade, Charles was able to get a lot out of his system. Maybe he would finally be normal afterwards.
“Now,” Edwin wiggled himself into a more comfortable position, bending his arm to cushion his head. “What else could we do to pass the time?”
“Snog?”
“Do be serious, Charles.”
He kinda had been, but Edwin didn’t have to know that. “What do you want to be when you grow up?”
“Are we not quite grown already?”
“Not at all. Spill.”
The corner of Edwin’s mouth tugged into a amused smile before his face became contemplative. “Well... soon I will audition for some quite prestigious universities with the best dance programs that feed into the greatest companies. The upcoming showcase is actually something of a dress rehearsal, so to speak. A lot of industry professionals like scouts, agents or producers will be attending the event. The whole dance programme puts on a show, the older students perform on their own or in pairs or small groups.”
“Sounds intense. Are mortals allowed there too?”
Edwin shrugged. “I think some people invite their parents or friends.”
“Are your folks going?”
“No. My father despised these things and my mother will not dignify my mediocrity with her presence.”
“Harsh... her words?”
“My conclusions.”
“Right... Can I come?”
Edwin looked at Charles like had just sprouted a second head. “Whatever for?”
“To support you and Niko? Don’t think her mum won’t come all the way from Japan either. I’m sure Crystal would love to go too.”
“This is really not necessary.”
“I know, but it’s what friends do, mate. Plus, I wanted to see you dance for ages now.” He reached for Edwin’s shoulder to give him a jostle and with fast spreading delight he realized that touching him felt right again. Even as the shoulder he got was the one exposed by the wide neck-line of his nightshirt. He couldn’t help grazing his thumb over his clavicle. “I’m gonna text the girls tomorrow. We can go out after or whatever. Celebrate. Is there a company you really want to get into?”
Edwin smiled at him, brighter now and with somewhat rosy cheeks. “Well … There is the Royal Ballet, of course. And a lot of people are aiming for the Russians. Not so much myself, since…” He gestured to his overall person. “All the homosexuality. Whether I am picked up by a company will be quite the turning point, I suppose. If one takes me on, it will pretty much determine my life until I am too old or too injured to dance anymore. I am hoping for at least twenty good years."
Charles furrowed his brow at him. He kinda got what Edwin meant – he knew guys in his cricket team who had busted knees by the time they turned sixteen. He remembered Billy crying on his eighteenth birthday because he was quickly becoming too old to get scouted for the major teams already. But still … “That’s bleak.”
“It’s really not. It’s the reality of the dream.”
“And after that? When you’re like nearly fourty and out of your profession. Will you teach?”
Edwin had now taken to drawing patterns on Charles’ hand that was still holding his shoulder with one finger. It felt nice. “Probably. I think I would like that. I already volunteer some of my free time to tutor younger students at the Academy and it's actually a lot of fun. And I guess I will go back to university to study anything and everything that pleases me. Maybe history. Or chemistry. Or languages. Or all of the above.”
“Yeah, that sounds like you.”
“So, Charles Rowland.” He looked at him with devastatingly bright eyes. “What do you want to be when you grow up?”
Suddenly, Charles felt embarrassed. Instead of Edwin’s face, he was watching his own thumb drawing circles on skin. “Well... it’s stupid. I don’t even have the marks for it. Couldn’t do it even if I tried.”
Gently, Edwin lowered his voice – like it was easier to speak wishes at a lower volume. Which was true. “Tell me...”
“...law.”
Edwin blinked at him, perplexed. “Law?”
With a chuckle, Charles shrugged. “Yeah, I don’t seem like the law type, do I? Not like your dad. But that’s kinda the point, innit? The system is fucked… but with the world as it is, you kinda have to play ball if you want to change anything, right? You need to know the rules, you need to know the minutia of how exactly they fuck you over, so your activism is actually able to accomplish shit.”
Edwin looked at him with new intrigue, like he was considering something under a microscope. “You’ve thought about that a lot.”
“I guess…”
“So you want to get into law school to learn and support active change. That’s… so you.”
His cheeks were burning. “Maybe… but not only the activism. It’s also… there are so many people trapped in shit situations... especially kids. I’d like to help somehow. Maybe I could do something in social care… When I was little I wanted to become a policeman. Like a detective, solving crimes. That was before I found out how shit that whole institution was.”
With a start, Edwin sat up, nearly giving Charles a heart attack. “Charles, look at me.” He was simply unable to refuse a direct order like that. Edwin pinned him with the most piercing stare that rattled something deep within Charles. How could a guy look so intense in his pj’s? “You are the most brilliant man and have the kindest heart. And you are going to do this. We will get your marks up together. By now, we have already figured out what study methods work for you, we just need to get serious!” They hadn’t been serious already? Fuck. “It might take a while and maybe it won’t happen right after school, but we will get you into law school if I have to carry you to bloody Cambridge myself!”
Charles felt faintly light-headed about mild-mannered Edwin Payne being fiercely supportive. And kind of wistful, because there probably wasn’t any kind of university in his future – he would most likely end up working in his dad’s garage. Still, he snorted, sitting up and nudging Edwin’s side. “Cambridge, right. You got any idea how expensive that is?”
“I do. My father is an alumnus.”
“Of course he is.”
“I shall pester him mercilessly about writing you a letter of recommendation.”
“Right, that wouldn’t have worked even before he heard me telling you to suck my dick.”
Edwin seemed perfectly unfazed by Charles’ crass rationale. “We will figure out a way. I will help you apply for scholarships, there is bound to be some money in your athletic abilities and there are programs for minority students.” He smiled his wicked smile, mischief sparkling in his eyes in a way that reminded Charles of yesterday’s library shenanigans. And what happened the night before that. “And if all else fails, we shall get married in Vegas and proceed to put on the messiest divorce, leaving you with at least half of my assets, including the trust-fund I will have access to once I turn twenty-one.”
Now Charles was howling with laughter, almost toppling back onto the floor. “You are bloody mental, do you know that? You freaky little schemer!”
Edwin smiled, obviously pleased with making him laugh. “Well, I think you would make a perfect first husband and I would be a marvelous divorcee.”
Charles raised his brows at him, feeling his face strain in the effort to support his stupid grin. “First husband, yeah? Have a second one picked out already, have you?”
“Naturally. I will be in need of something passionate and fast burning to get over you. I shall marry Thomas within the month.”
In mock hurt, Charles clutched his chest. “How fast you move on from me.”
Edwin shrugged nonchalantly. “Only because you took my ancestral home in the divorce and kept the dog.”
“Oi, he was my dog to begin with.”
“Well, he likes me better than you.”
Charles shook his head at him. “Right. So you and Thomas will live happily ever after, will you?”
“Certainly not, I shall get an annulment once he inevitably cheats on me.”
He nodded gravely. “And I shall get a tire iron to break his kneecaps if he does.”
“Nice to know we are still on good terms after our separation.”
“Well, it’s for the kids, innit?”
“They miss having you home on Christmas.”
“They are pretty chuffed about not seeing you at Easter.”
“I always get so competitive around Cadbury Eggs.”
Chuckling, Charles placed his hand in the space between them to lean into Edwin, grinning at him with what finally felt like an actual, real smile. They were only inches apart. “So, is the role of husband number three already cast?”
Edwin’s answering smile was lop-sided and teasing – just how Charles liked it best. “You may audition if you like. A brilliant and successful lawyer might finally appease my parents. After all, my father always complains that he wanted someone to keep up the family business.”
“Brills.”
They stared at each other for a few heartbeats before dissolving into glorious, teary giggles.
06:00 a.m.
“Dance with me, sweetness?”
“You shouldn’t call me that when we’re alone.”
“Okay. Dance with me anyway?”
“Of course...”
They tried the waltz again, without any music, just Edwin counting softly – which was basically music as far as Charles was concerned. Edwin’s hand in his felt steady and it might’ve been the only thing holding him up by now. God, he was tired – but he couldn’t fathom closing his eyes. Not knowing that his mind was ready to replay every breath he might’ve taken wrong to set off his dad. Not knowing that in the land of the conscious, there was that boy who cared for him so much it made him cry.
Edwin’s other hand was not on his shoulder where it was supposed to be. It was in his neck, fingers grazing the sparse hair there. “You could get dizzy from this.”
“I’m fine.” He pulled Edwin closer, so close it was getting hard to move without tangling their legs. At one point, they were just standing in the middle of the room, holding each other, barely swaying anymore. For a moment – or maybe longer – he buried his face in Edwin’s neck, breathing in the familiar scent of bergamotte and something warm he couldn’t quite place. Then the darkness in front of the window turned to twilight and Charles softly nudged Edwin, who seemed to have almost drifted to sleep on his shoulder. “Hey... wanna watch the sunrise?”
A bit hazy, Edwin blinked first at him, then towards the window. “Ah... yes, we can go on the balcony.”
“Nah, have a better idea, mate.”
He used the hand that was still clutching Edwin’s in a feeble insinuation of dance form to drag him towards the balcony. As they stepped out, Charles quickly assessed the situation, before letting go of Edwin and climbing on the railing.
“Charles!” Edwin sounded wide awake again, stretching a hand out for him but not touching, probably out of fear of jostling Charles into falling. “What are you doing?”
“The roof is a way better vantage point. Can’t see shit with that oak in front of the balcony.” He carefully stepped up close to the wall, reaching for the rain gutter and testing to see if it was fastened properly.
“Are you bloody mental?”
“Probably, I suffered a head wound after all.”
“You could fall!”
He grinned. “Heard it was worth the risk. You comin’?” With a grunt he heaved himself up onto the roof overhang. As Edwin cursed from below on the balcony, Charles took a moment to steady himself, perching on the roof and letting his legs dangle before reaching a hand down towards Edwin, raising his brow in a silent prompt.
With a dignified huff, Edwin took his hand and – with far more grace and far less noise – took an easy step on the railing and hauled himself up next to Charles. Of course, he had perfect balance, folding his legs neatly under himself. “We should really get you checked by a professional”, he muttered, but it did nothing to dampen Charles’ grin. Maybe he preened a bit too much when Edwin leaned onto his shoulder. Then he shuddered against him – because it was bloody autumn and they hadn’t thought of getting their jackets. So Charles did the only logical thing and took off his maroon hoodie, quickly tugging it over Edwin’s head to effectively muffle his protest. Arms caught in the body of the garment and hair swept in all directions, Edwin frowned at him, considering Charles’ vest as if it had offended him personally. “You will freeze to death.”
“I totally will. You’ll have to cuddle me to save my life.”
With a glare and a petulant murmur, Edwin wiggled his arms through the sleeves of the hoodie. They covered his knuckles, which was way too darling. He looked very nice in it even though it wasn’t his colour, it was Charles’. Maybe that was the point. “You should keep it”, he mumbled as Edwin huddled against him, clinging to his arm and propping his chin on Charles’ shoulder in a way that felt just a bit too right. “Stealing a boyfriend’s hoodie is kinda a rite of passage, innit? Will sell the whole thing even if I’m not here. Although …” He frowned as he spotted a dark smear on the collar. “Damn, might’ve bled on it, that’s gross. Sorry, mate.”
Edwin didn’t even wrinkle his nose, only inspected the stain with mild curiosity. “No worries, this will wash out easily with cold water and soap.”
“Do I wanna know how you know that?”
“I’m a dancer, Charles. Lots of bloody socks.”
“Ugh…”
“Anyway, this is certainly not the kind of bodily fluid one would expect on a boyfriend hoodie.”
Incredulously, he stared at a smirking Edwin, raising his brows. “You know if you want to change that –” Cartoonishly slow he reached for his belt buckle.
“I will push you off this roof, so God help me.”
“Oi, don’t start things you can’t finish!”
“I never had any issue finishing, thank you very much.”
They broke into giggles again. Maybe they were a bit delirious with the lack of sleep and all the anxiety – and the blood loss on Charles’ part. The sun was rising over London to colour everything red and pink and orange and gold. They were sitting on a roof, pressed together, laughing in each other’s ears and shoulders and cheeks. And Edwin looked so happy and he wasn’t crying anymore and Charles felt safe for the first time in…
“I can’t believe I once thought you were all innocent.”
“Did you really?”
“Well, I met you in a club, wearing a bloody bow tie and looking like you’d never seen a naked ankle in your entire life.”
Edwin huffed at him and Charles felt his breath at his throat. “To be fair, I had planned on a long evening at the library and Niko basically kidnapped me to go along. There was no time for a wardrobe change.”
“But it was your first time going to a club, wasn’t it?”
“Obviously.”
“You hated it so much.”
“Not all of it.”
With a grin, Charles raised his brows at him. “Is that so? Now pray tell, what did you like about it? Was there maybe a handsome, charming lad who instantly caught your fancy?”
Edwin sighed in deep exasperation before putting his head on Charles’ shoulder and looking out over the roofs of the neighborhood, towards the myriad of colours the sun painted them in. “You are only half as cute as you think, Charles Rowland.”
“I like those odds.”
07:00 a.m.
Maybe on another day, with his head not pounding and his eyes not feeling like sandpaper, it would have meant something different to strip down to his vest and boxers and slip into bed with Edwin Payne. Maybe there would have been some sense of heat or hesitation. But that night – well, that morning, really – it felt like a children’s sleepover. They were huddled together under the blanket like schoolboys staying up past their bedtime. Edwin didn’t take off the hoodie and Charles tried not to have feelings about that.
He had picked up A Study in Scarlet from his desk and he was reading to Charles. His voice was so soft and Charles relished having nothing to do but listen to Edwin’s familiar cadence and watch the way his lips formed each word with deft precision, the gracefulness of his fingers whenever he turned a page.
In the end, Edwin did doze off, somewhere between that strange section about the Salt Lake Valley and the crook of Charles’ arm, the book splayed open on his chest. And Charles himself closed his eyes – just for a moment.
08:00 a.m.
He wasn’t dreaming about his father.
He was dreaming about a summer in the countryside, catching fireflies and climbing on roofs to watch the sunrise and hiding in libraries and dancing in a meadow and jumping in a lake and sharing contraband candy.
Then suddenly someone was shaking him and there was a breathy, panicked voice in his ear. “Charles! Charles!”
Groaning, he opened his bleary eyes, taking the hands on his shoulders, holding their wrists to keep them still. His head was killing him and the jostling didn’t help one bit. Edwin was leaning over him and his face was pale, his eyes wide and terrified. But since Charles was three-quarters asleep he looked like an angel, the warm yellow glow of the morning sun shining through the bedroom window creating a halo around him. “What’s going on?”
“You... your breathing was awfully shallow...”
“It’s called sleeping, mate.”
Pressing his lips together, Edwin nodded. His eyes were glassy again. “Sorry...”
“It’s fine.” He put a hand on Edwin’s neck, pulling him down and cradling him against his chest, using his free hand to drag the comforter up to Edwin’s nose. “Gave you quite a fright tonight, didn’t I? But I’m good. Don’t worry, I’m good. Just sleep.” Running his fingers through soft hair, Charles felt himself slipping into blessedly warm numbness again – back to summer. “Just sleep, love ...”
Chapter 7: First Dance
Chapter Text
Charles woke up to muffled shouting and it frightened him enough – heart racing, cold sweat, freezing, just don’t move – that it took a moment for him to realize it wasn’t the voice he expected. He wasn’t home. He was at the Payne’s house. In Edwin’s bed. And Edwin wasn’t with him anymore. With a groan he sat up, his head swimming a bit, and as he blinked, to adjust his vision to the dreary afternoon light outside the window. His mum would be worried sick by now. He hadn’t even texted her last night, way too preoccupied with losing his shit to even think– … God, he felt sick. There was still a commotion in front of the bedroom door and now he could make out the voices – Edwin and his mother. Great way to start the day. As he stood and tugged on his clothes, he strained to listen in on their squabbling.
“And in Lady Whickham’s house, of all things! After she was always so good to us–”
“Well, she seemed downright thrilled about the whole ordeal. She even told me to bring Charles to her New Years luncheon. Actually, I think she is quite taken by him.” Edwin sounded like he was very much done with the whole conversation already, even as his mother excelled to new heights of shrill indignation.
“This crass behaviour–”
“You just think it is crass because he is a boy! If I was caught with a girl, father and his friends would jovially pat me on the back, and it would simply turn into an embarrassing anecdote everyone could tease me about during tea!”
“You know full well, that I don’t care who–”
“Do I know that, mother?”
A beat of silence. There had been something fragile in Edwin’s voice that seemed right on the cusp of shattering, so Charles took it as his cue to make his entrance – or, well, exit. Swinging the door open with a flourish, he was greeted first with Edwin’s back and then with mother and son basically jumping out of their skin, turning wide eyes at him.
“Mornin’”, he crowed cheerfully and walked up to Edwin – who still wore his hoodie, by the way, even though the thing probably smelled rank by now. He slung his arms around Edwin from behind, hugging him tightly to his chest and closing his eyes for a second. This would’ve been a nicer way to wake up. “Gotta get home, babe. My mum’s probably wonderin’ where I’m off to.”
Edwin nodded, one hand reaching up to thread his fingers through Charles’ curls. Maybe he should stay a bit longer? With a sigh, he glanced towards Mrs. Payne who crossed her arms and glared at him like he had defiled her mother’s grave. Or her son.
Perhaps Charles was a selfish prick, but Edwin had said he was okay with it, so he turned his chin with a gentle finger and leaned in to kiss him – and then he thought that maybe they should’ve practiced a quick kiss rather than making out the other day, because for a second there he forgot they weren’t alone and that he was supposed to be leaving – apparently there was no casual way of kissing Edwin Payne. At least not for him. It took until Edwin tugged on his sleeve to get Charles back on track and off his perfectly soft mouth. Edwin blinked at him, eyes wide and face aflame. “I, um… I suppose, I will see you tomorrow?”
Charles winced, grimacing at Edwin. “About that... I’m not gonna be able to meet up this week, sweetness. Got a football game on Saturday and coach is on my ass about missing practice. Forgive me?” He pressed his lips to Edwin’s temple. Because he was somewhat allowed to.
Flustered, Edwin sputtered a “That's quite alright”.
Charles couldn’t help his grin, and since he was a horrible person, he leaned in again for another kiss. Edwin met him halfway. “You’re the best, babe.” He muttered against his lips. It wasn’t so much a kiss as a smile touching a smile. “Next week I’m all yours, promise.”
“I always monopolize you anyway.”
“Mh... I like being monopolized, don’t I? Match made in heaven.”
A full-on grin tugged at Edwin’s lips. “You mispronounced codependency.”
“Way too many syllables for me, let’s stick with heaven. Gonna text you later.”
“You better.”
“You gon’ scold me if I don’t?”
The sharp sound of Mrs. Payne clearing her throat, brought Charles back to reality. To that bloody beige hallway he was standing in. Frowning, he blinked at her. “Can I help you?” Maybe a bit hostile… he still had a bloody headache after all. Mrs. Payne’s gaze swept over his beat-up face with the air of someone considering a rat at a tube station. “I don’t care what kind of trouble you have gotten yourself into. But you better not drag my son into it.”
“Mother!” Before Edwin could come to his defense, Charles tightened his grip on him.
“It’s fine, babe. Don’t worry about it.” Resigning himself to finally get a move on, he placed a kiss on Edwin’s cheek and another on that soft spot right under his ear, just because he could and it was better than thinking about how Mrs. Payne had jumped straight to suspicion. Of course, she would think he was trouble. That’s what he had insinuated from the start. Still… it stung. “Bye, sweetness.”
With a curt nod to Mrs. Payne, he walked past her and started down the stairs. He was nearly out the door, when he heard him. “Charles.”
Slowly, he turned towards Mr. Payne who stood in the doorway to what Edwin had once pointed out as his office – a strange liminal space not many people were allowed to pass the threshold of. “Why don’t you come in here, son? Just for a moment, I shall not keep you.”
Something cold rushed through Charles then. No. Not yet. He wasn’t ready. Not today. Not after last night. “Sorry, pal. Gotta go. Another time maybe.”
Quickly, before Mr. Payne could protest, Charles fled the house. On his way to the tube, hands stuffed deeply into his coat pockets, he thought that he should probably tell Edwin ... at the same time he knew he wouldn’t.
Charles avoided the Payne house like the plague for the following week. Just in case. The daily practice his coach inflicted upon the football team was a welcome excuse. Although it wasn’t a respite from his ever turning mind. As he ran drills with the dickheads he called his teammates, he thought about how close he had been to the finale of this whole ruse. And how he had fled from it. Could this be one of the worst things he had ever done? From the very beginning, this had all been about Edwin wanting freedom and it had been right there. Charles just had to keep up his end of the bargain. But he just … couldn’t. Not yet, he told himself. After this week, he told himself. After the Diamond Ball, he told himself.
The idea of letting go of Edwin, of returning to his usual routine of school-sports-work-home-clubs – his life before Edwin – was slightly nauseating. This one week of simply not seeing Edwin in person and barely texting – because Edwin texted like a fucking old man, with proper punctuation and all – made him feel a bit manic. Of course, nothing in their original deal said that they couldn’t spend time together after it was over. But it just made sense that they wouldn’t. Not like now. They might stay friends, but Charles would have to make room for … whoever came after him. The real future boyfriend. That had been the plan all along, right? Any subsequent romantic partner who is a bit more mellow than you will be quite welcome. That had always been the goal of the whole scheme. Preparing the Paynes for an actual boyfriend. The one Edwin could take home to his parents and not feel anxious about. The one who could easily tag along to tea and parties and knew what bloody fork to use on any occasion. The one people would smile at and welcome because Isn’t he so much nicer than the last one? Such good manners, way better family.
Grimly, as a ball hit him right in the back of the head and the coach started to lecture him about paying attention – as most adults tended to do automatically when faced with Charles Rowland – he realized that he was jealous of an exclusively theoretical bloke. The only solace he had was that at least old Lady Whickham would still like him best.
He made it to Wednesday evening before caving. He had spent a tense dinner with his parents, all three of them pretending that the bruise from his head wound hadn’t trickled down to merge with his black eye. His mum fussed about him when dad wasn’t there to see it. She had cried a lot when he had returned on Sunday afternoon. She also apologized a lot. It didn’t change much and Charles tried to simply push away the weird mix of guilt for making her sad and sour disappointment that – again – this one hadn’t been enough for her to leave. The thought sat bitter on his tongue, shame knotting up his stomach in the following days.
After dinner and doing the dishes, he lounged in his mess of a bed and called Edwin. They had never talked on the phone before – Edwin barely used his, he called it a devil’s device. He didn’t even have social media, which was ironic since he was (begrudgingly) a very regular presence on Niko’s instagram, much to the delight of a staggering and constantly increasing number of followers she shared her ballet journey, video game reviews and an unending array of food pictures and outfit inspirations with. People had dubbed Edwin grumpy ballet guy and Niko’s following increased significantly every time she posted anything featuring him.
It took a while for Edwin to pick up the call and when he did, his voice was so confused it teetered on the brink of sounding offended. “Hello?”
“What ‘you wearin’?”
Edwin’s exasperated sigh must’ve crawled up from the deepest pits of his soul. “Charles.”
Charles grinned. Two words and already Edwin’s voice was like a salve to his agitation. “Bet you miss me, don’t you?”
He could basically hear Edwin rolling his eyes at him. “Sure, I am spending my days wistfully looking out of my window like I am waiting for my husband to return from the war.”
“You gonna send me a love letter to the pitch? Maybe a cheeky little charcoal drawing of your ankle?”
“The messenger pigeon will arrive in two to three business days.
“Aces.”
“Now, did you call me just because you are bored or did you have a point?”, Edwin huffed, but Charles was pretty sure he detected the familiar fondness that often accompanied his irritation.
“The point is that we’ve been hangin’ out pretty much every day for about a month, and now it’s weird not to see you, innit?”
“Exactly a month, actually.”
“Huh?”
“Yes, coincidentally, we started this whole scheme at the British Library a month ago today.”
Charles blinked up at the ceiling. On one hand, it was crazy that he had been dealing with this circus for an entire month. On the other, it felt like he knew Edwin way too well for it to have only been a month. Yes, they had hung out before getting into this mess, but in just a few weeks they had grown infinitely closer. That’s what happens when you go from zero to pretend-dating in a matter of weeks, he supposed. “Damn... well, happy anniversary, mate. What’s that one, paper?”
“It might be styrofoam.”
“Gotta renew our vows, don’t we?”
“I shall book the venue first thing tomorrow.”
“Second honeymoon in Rome?”
“You just want to gorge yourself on spaghetti.”
“And snog you in the vatican.”
“Naturally”, Edwin snorted and there was some rustling on his side, like maybe he got himself into a more comfortable position. Charles imagined him cuddled up in bed like he had been on Sunday morning. “So how is your head?”
“Unusually enthusiastic, I’ve been told.”
“Charles Rowland, I will hang up on you.”
Cackling into the phone like a madman, Charles felt some knot within him untangle, tension seeping from his shoulders. Apparently, staying away from Edwin for three days was way too much to ask of him at this point. A nagging little voice in the back of his head wondered how he would manage if Edwin eventually got that actual, real, not-at-all-theoretical boyfriend of his. No way would Charles be able to make room – the fucker would have to find a place to fit if he wanted to stick around. God, he hated that guy already. “Don’t! I’m fine mate, am I not? Only a little bump, nothing major.” Before Edwin could ask anything else, Charles moved along, not wanting to darken the conversation anymore. “Tell me what you’ve been up to during our tragic separation.”
“It’s been three days, Charles.”
“Tell me about the last three days then.” Smiling to himself, he settled into listening to Edwin ramble on about school and practice and Niko furiously working on their outfits for the upcoming showcase despite getting hot glue burns all over her fingers. About how he was thinking of doing a piece en pointe but was nervous since it was still a bit unconventional for men to do so unless in some character roles, usually reserved for comedic purposes. Edwin asked about his training and if he was looking forward to the game, but Charles kept his answers short. He just wanted to listen to Edwin.
“It’s late...”
Charles checked the time. Almost midnight. They had been talking for hours. “It is.”
Edwin’s voice was quiet like a secret and Charles wondered if he too was sitting in his dark bedroom, the house fast asleep around him. “We both have school and practice tomorrow.”
“We sure do.”
“We should go to sleep.”
“Yeah… read to me?”
They finished A Study in Scarlet that night.
By Saturday morning, Charles was a bundle of nerves and not in the way his teammates were, who noisily clobbered about their locker room to get ready for the game. As he tugged on his jersey, he thought about his parents on the bleachers – the one thing his dad liked about Charles was when he excelled at a sport. Something to brag about at the pub. He used to be excited for his dad to come see him play, desperate for approval. Nowadays, it just made him feel a bit sick. He couldn’t remember the last time he had fun on a pitch.
“Ey, Rowland! Who’s your fanclub?” A choir of snickers, jeers and whistles erupted in the locker room.
Charles frowned, gazing over to Billy who wasn’t even half dressed yet and instead oggled out the window to watch the modest crowd of parents and other students gathering on the bleachers lining the football field. “What the hell are you talking about, Billy?”
“Look.” Charles looked. And Charles sputtered. Because there on the faded red plastic seats, right out of some very bad American high school movie were Crystal, Niko and Edwin, faces painted with his school colours and his jersey number and holding a honest to god banner proclaiming GO ROWLAND! KICK THEIR ASSES THE BALL! in neon paint studded with rhinestones, surely courtesy of Niko who had even brought sparkly fucking pompoms to shake around, because of course she did. “Fucking hell”, he muttered. And he couldn’t help his grin.
There was no time to go up to them before the game or even during the half-time break because coach was keeping the team in line like a fucking army major. If his dad wasn’t there, Charles would’ve risked flipping him the bird and going up to his friends anyway.
Now, Charles was no stranger to cheering. He had once been in with the popular crowd and he was still one of the better players on the team. But it had never really mattered that much how many people had chanted and applauded for him because his eyes were always drawn towards the stoic face of his father, waiting of a sign that he was doing things right. Not today. Today he simply had no other choice than to be drawn in by the explosion of colour and cheer that were his three friends – mostly the girls, Niko bouncing around like a ball and waving her arms with so much enthusiasm, she became a hazard to the people around her. But whenever he glanced towards Edwin, he was always smiling brightly, clutching his hands together. At one point after half-time, the girls had somehow talked him into putting tiny Crystal on his shoulders so she could wave the banner higher and shout obscenities at the other team. When a teacher tried to chastise her, she just flipped them off from her perch on top of Edwin and declared “I don’t even go here, you have no authority over me!” loud enough for even Charles to hear it on the field.
It was curious. For the first time in… well, a long time – probably since playing on the sun-heated asphalt of his childhood summer – Charles had fun playing. Grinning like a bloody maniac, he sprinted over the field, the autumn chill sweeping through his hair and adrenalin-fueled elation shooting through his body. His teammates seemed both confused and emboldened by his apparent loss of sanity. Needless to say, they wiped the floor with their opponents.
After the game, Charles nearly fell face-first onto the pitch in exhaustion – he pretty much ran himself dry. Jovially, his coach patted his back, boisterous voice proclaiming something about “That’s the spirit, boys!” as he handed Charles a bottle of some concerningly blue electrolyte drink he downed in one go. After a quick and way too cold shower, his muscles were already aching, but he simply tugged on his clothes in a hurry and ran out without acknowledging his teammates anymore, who called after him – because apparently, they could suddenly be civil again after winning with the best scores of the whole season.
To his surprise – and slight horror – he found Crystal and Niko already chatting with his parents on the sidelines. Crystal had met his mother only once before, about a year ago, but not his father. Who she was currently talking to. Which seemed dangerous. Walking up, Charles just caught the end of her sentence. “… and I don’t know if Charles had time to tell you yet, since we just texted about it earlier, but he was so kind and agreed to escort me next Saturday. These functions are always so dull when you go alone, so I am very glad he agreed.” Coming up short next to her, Charles stared at Crystal, mouth open, but she just kept on going, steamrolling both him and his father, who didn’t seem to know what to do with a girl who talked right over him. “I’m really looking forward to it, it’s gonna be lots of fun.” She beamed at Charles and took his arm. “Right, Charles?”
He blinked at her. “Um... right.”
Before he could say anything else (like what the fuck are you talking about?) his mother took a step towards him, gently putting her arms around him and kissing his temple. Everything about her was soothingly warm, from her brown eyes to the scent of coconut oil in her prematurely graying hair to the soft orange dress. “Congratulations, beta. You did so well today. I’m very proud of you.” With a smile, she messed her fingers through his shower-wet hair, shaking the curls loose. “As I always am.”
Usually, he would look towards his dad. See if he was proud too. Inevitably be disappointed in what he found. But now Niko had taken over for Crystal in talking an endless stream of consciousness at his very confused father – and Charles had bigger worries right now. “Thanks, mum. Sorry, I gotta talk to Crystal for a sec’.”
He untangled himself from his mother, grasping Crystal’s elbow to take her a few steps out of earshot.
“So… what the hell?”
She shrugged. “Edwin said you probably needed a heterosexual alibi for the Diamond Ball, so here we are.” Of course this was Edwin’s doing. Bloody schemer.
“Speaking of, where is he?”
Crystal pointed a thumb over her shoulder towards the bleachers where Edwin sat with a book in his hands, Niko’s pompoms in his lap and pointedly not looking over to them. “He thought it would be best if your dad didn’t meet him. Didn’t want to get you in trouble for associating with someone that flamboyant – his words, not mine. Although they could totally be mine.”
All of a sudden, Charles felt sick to his stomach. Did Edwin think Charles would be ashamed of him? No way in hell would he entertain that notion. “Hold on a minute”, he muttered to Crystal and stomped right over to Edwin, who only registered his arrival once Charles stood an arms-length away.
Edwin blinked up at him, a timid smile on his lips. “Congratulations, Charles. Good game – or so I’ve been told. I will have to study the rules to be sure next time.”
Next time. Charles tried to ignore the little thrill that ran through him. “You didn’t mention you were coming. The girls didn’t either.”
“Someone told me it’s what friends do. Support each other and such.” He exchanged the book in his hands for the pompoms, shaking them with a deadpan expression. “Go team.”
“I’m developing a brand new dirty fantasy as we speak.”
“Does it include me spelling words with my arms and chanting something formulaic but encouraging?”
“It’s mostly a visual fantasy”, Charles quipped and sat down next to him. “So you were just going to sit over here and not even come up to me?”
Uncertainty flashed over Edwin’s face before he could smooth it back into neutral pleasantry. There had been a time, only a few weeks ago, when Charles hadn’t known his face well enough to pick up on that. Where he had thought that Edwin’s face was a marble mask of perfect countenance. He had been an utter fool. “I thought it best not to put you into a situation that might irritate your father. Especially without your prior knowledge or consent.”
Charles huffed at him. “Fuck that guy. I don’t care what he thinks.” Barely the truth, but maybe if he told himself that often enough … “I want you to meet my mum.”
Edwin blinked at him, stunned. “Are you–... are you quite sure, Charles? It’s really no issue, if–”
“Obviously. Come on.” He clasped Edwin’s shoulder to usher him along, suppressing the habit of placing a hand on his lower back.
As they arrived back where Charles had left the girls with his parents, Niko met them halfway, skipping towards Edwin and taking the pompoms from him before basically cartwheeling her way back to Crystal's side, continuing to verbally bulldoze Charles’ father, who seemed simply lost in face of the force of nature that was Niko Sasaki. It gave Charles the perfect cover to approach his mother, Edwin by his side. He wasn’t nervous necessarily – he had wanted her to meet Edwin for a while now – but his cheeks were still aflame and his hand hovered somewhere behind Edwin’s back as if he was presenting him to her. “Mum... this is Edwin. My... my best mate.” It came out like a sigh of relief. A truth, if not the whole truth. He couldn’t hide his grin as he watched Edwin incline his head like he was greeting the queen.
“Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Rowland. I was looking forward to making your acquaintance for a while now.”
Mum smiled, bright like a hearth as she took Edwin’s hand – more of a soft exchange of pressure than a handshake, really. “Is that so?”
“Certainly, since Charles speaks so highly of you.” His gaze flitted between mother and son and he smiled as he told Charles: “You have your mother’s eyes.”
Ridiculously, Charles felt like crying as he nodded, beaming at Edwin. “I do, don’t I?”
He could feel his mother’s knowing eyes on him. “Well, Edwin, I am happy to meet you too. Although my son has yet failed to mention being friends with such a polite young man.” She gave Charles a chiding look that was ruined by a spark of mirth. He held his hands up apologetically. “I will remedy this as soon as we get home, promise.”
They exchanged some more pleasantries before the girls decided it was time for them to go. “I’ll see you next week?”, he asked over his shoulder as they dragged him off.
“Obviously!”
As he watched them leave, gaze locked on Edwin’s back, he felt his mother at his side, her hand softly on his arm. Her voice was a mere whisper: “Is this someone special, beta?”
He pressed his lips together, thinking of a sunlit afternoon twirling his mum around in her kitchen as a lentil curry bubbled on the stove next to them. And he nodded.
Edwin and him spent the following week studying at the British Library. When Charles asked about why they weren’t meeting at Edwin’s house where they used to study, Edwin simply claimed that different surroundings were stimulating to the brain and that was it. Faintly, Charles wondered if Edwin’s parents had banned him from their house after their stunt at the Whickham estate or if he was simply trying to give his father’s blood pressure a break. Whatever it was, Charles was fine with it since it meant they could spend hours just hanging out without the nagging presence of Mrs. Payne looming over them.
Although maybe he couldn’t really call it hanging out, since Edwin seemed to have made it his new mission in life to get Charles perfect marks in every subject. Apparently, Edwin had meant it when he said he would get Charles into law school no matter what. Charles himself had a whole range of emotions about that fact. On one hand, he actually felt like they were getting somewhere. In first grade, his teachers had called him disruptive, inattentive and lazy – and that had been his reality and self-perception ever since. But Edwin helped him realize that he wasn’t a lost cause at all – he could actually excel academically, he just needed the right methods and proper tools to do so. On the other hand, there was always that looming suspicion that this would all blow up in his face. That after Edwin had put all this work into him, spent so much time tutoring him, he would still fail because he just wasn’t good enough.
He didn’t share any of these thoughts with Edwin, who was fiercely encouraging and let him take several breaks throughout the day to go outside, move around a bit and get food. Charles had taken to getting them both caramel chai lattes each day, since he knew Edwin liked them but was too disciplined to buy one for himself – he still accepted it when Charles put one down in front of him like an offering, sipping it with a delighted smile that betrayed his chiding to not spend any more money on him.
The one thing Charles regretted about not being around Edwin’s parents was the fact that for two weeks now, he hadn’t had any justifiable reason to touch or kiss him. And since he had acquired the knowledge of what kissing Edwin felt like – what his bare skin tasted like, how shiny and bright his eyes could become, what it sounded like when he gasped Charles’ name, how his thighs felt tightening around him – his body was very keen on repeating the experience. So he found himself always hovering a bit too close, always dragging a touch out just a bit longer, always leaning in too much, always staring too intently when Edwin’s tongue darted out to chase the taste of caramel on his lips. Of course, this was constantly accompanied by flashes of that dark bedroom at the country house, like his brain thought he needed any more encouragement to act upon his desires. Maybe for the best, but maybe for the worst, Edwin didn’t even seem to notice.
Friday evening, the day before the Diamond Ball, Crystal invited them all to a movie night at her place, which turned out to simply be an elaborate ploy to get as many hands as possible on her head. With the help of Charles, who she had instructed in proper braiding techniques years ago, she showed Niko and Edwin how to work her natural curls and lilac kanekalon into the tiniest of braids. Edwin especially turned out to be a quick study with deft hands and a focus that lent a certain gravitas to the task. That day he was dressed in a combo of leggings and an oversized jumper Charles was familiar with by now, but hadn’t seen yet outside of Edwin’s home. Somehow it was very nice to see him this relaxed around the girls too.
With Crystal sitting cross-legged on her living room floor and her three friends crouching on the sofa behind her like goblin-hairstylists, they watched an array of Niko's favourite bad dance movies from the early 2000s she had assembled into a list of descending quality.
“Why are so many of these movies about racism, while being incredibly racist”, Crystal muttered and made herself useful by holding up slices of pizza to their mouths so they could eat without getting their hands greasy or stopping their work. Assistance Niko and Charles appreciated immensely and Edwin only frowned at. “Like, why is there fucking gang violence in my silly dance movie?”
“To show the juxtaposition of some types of dance being elevated to an art form performed by and for the elite, while the art of marginalized groups is looked down upon”, Niko explained evenly. “Also it’s for the drama.”
After three and a half movies – one worse than the other – Crystals hair was a shimmering cascade of micro braids and all their hands were cramping. The girls had cuddled up on a big leather armchair, a blanket tucked around them, and had promptly fallen asleep while Edwin and Charles were committed to watching movie number four through to the end.
“I kinda dig how they are always like ‘we gotta push the envelope, be different, do something risky’ and then the big number they were practicing for the entire movie is the blandest shit you’ve ever seen”, Charles commented as he watched a very skinny white girl deliver the stiffest hip hop performance he had ever seen. Edwin chuckled. He was sitting at the far end of the couch, knees tight to his chest. Charles looked over to him, holding up an edge of his blanket in invitation. “Oi, come ‘ere.”
After the briefest of hesitations, really just a split second to assess the offer, Edwin scooted over and curled up close against him, leaning into Charles, who first wrapped the blanket around them both and then his arm around Edwin. He cushioned his head on Charles’ shoulder like it was a perfectly reasonable, even natural thing to do. Like it wouldn’t make something in Charles’ stomach flip.
“I think Niko really likes Crystal”, Edwin whispered with a glance over to the girls who were blissfully wrapped around each other and his soft voice sunk right into Charles’ skin.
Charles followed his gaze, smiling. “Yeah... Crystal just needs to figure out her shit, really.”
Edwin blinked up at him. “You think she’s not sure about Niko?”
“That’s not it. Niko’s aces, the best really. It’s just... Crystal’s been through a lot. And she has a hard time accepting things that are... good. Because…” He sighed and startled himself with how tired and rough his own voice sounded. “What if you fuck it all up? What if there’s that one... brilliant thing in your life and you ruin it, because you can’t get your fucking shit straight? What if... you don’t deserve the good thing at all?”
“Crystal deserves the good thing.”
“Of course she does. She deserves everything.”
Edwin hummed in agreement and for a few minutes they just watched the screen. The skinny white girl just got into her dream school.
“What if...” Edwin hesitated before trying again. “What if it’s not... Crystal? Niko... a lot of people think her to be quite difficult. Because she’s... unusual. It’s hard to make friends when you are… strange like us. That’s why it was so lucky she found me. She was the first one who... understood. It is hard to find people you can trust enough to know they will not hurt you. It makes you suspicious of … the good thing.”
“Crystal would never–”
“I know, Charles.” Edwin’s hand found his under the blanket, carefully interlacing their fingers one by one. “But knowing you’re safe and... feeling safe are two different things. They don’t always coincide. Sometimes you feel safe in a friendship, but even thinking of taking things further... is extremely frightening. Especially for someone like us, who struggles with relationships to begin with. And it’s nobody’s fault... it just is. Does that make sense?”
As he nodded, Charles’ throat was suddenly very dry. “Yeah... that makes sense. I just... I hope Crystal and Niko will figure things out between them.”
“So do I.”
“They could be great friends still, even if they don’t. Right?” He glanced towards Edwin, who was already looking at him.
“Yes. I think so too.”
“Should... Crystal back off a bit?”
Edwin shrugged, turning his attention back to the screen and wiggling himself deeper into the crook of Charles’ arm. “I think Niko is fine with how things are right now.
Charles nodded, trying to get back into the movie too, even as his mind was reeling. In the corner of his eye he caught some movement and as he looked over to the girls, he saw Crystal, eyes open, staring at him and mouthing: What the fuck was that?!
Quickly, he checked that Edwin’s eyes were locked on the telly, before peering over his head back to Crystal, eyes wide and hopefully conveying the full force of his confusion. I don't bloody know!
The next day, Charles was surprised by actually feeling quite nervous. Today was the day he had been lowkey dreading for a month now – the blasted Diamond Ball. Late afternoon, after his shift at Amir’s and a quick shower, Charles returned to Crystal’s place where he had stashed the clothes Edwin had inflicted upon him. No way in hell could he have hid them at home and he hadn’t been keen on answering any questions about where the hell he had gotten a bunch of designer shit from.
As it turned out, Crystal and Niko had spent the whole day together, getting manicures (rose for Niko, a silvery lilac for Crystal to match her braids), helping each other with their hair and were now in the middle of doing their makeup.
Before Charles got dressed, Crystal helped him to colour correct and conceal the last remnants of his black eye. To cover the slight bump still present on his forehead, he styled his curls to hang a bit more in his face than usual, so at the end he didn’t look quite like a bum anymore, if a bit unkempt. He borrowed some more of Crystal’s makeup (eyeliner he could hide in his pencil case at home, an eyeshadow palette would be a bit more of a challenge) and let the girls chatter at him as he took a ridiculous amount of time to blend away at a black smokey eye.
Once he was dressed, Niko had squealed an encouraging stream of compliments and Crystal dryly declared him presentable, he bid his farewell to meet up with them later at the ball. After all, he had to pick up his date.
Standing in the tube in a full suit and a new black coat, he felt utterly ridiculous. Yes, he liked the suit and he actually thought he looked quite good in it. But it was simply so alien from anything he had ever worn that it made him feel a bit dizzy. How the fuck did he even get himself into this situation? Charles Rowland was on his way to pick up Edwin Payne to go to a fucking ball. What? The? Hell? His incredulity lasted nearly up to the Payne’s front door, where it was swiftly replaced by something akin to dread. He had avoided this house like the plague for the last two weeks. His gaze drifted to the roof where he and Edwin had been huddled against each other and watched the sun rise, and it somehow loosened the tension in his shoulder. This was just another weird evening of shenanigans with his favourite schemer. It would be alright. So he walked up to the house and rang the bell.
As if heaven and hell were conspiring against him, it was Mr. Payne of all people who opened the door for him. He glared at Charles without a word but with a lot of distaste as he stepped aside to let him in.
Now here’s the thing – and maybe it was due to all the bad movies he had seen just yesterday. But Charles had somehow envisioned some grand scene. Maybe Edwin walking down the stairs in slow motion, so Charles could marvel at him. It wasn’t quite like that.
Edwin actually rushed out the drawing room, fiddling with a bracelet on his left wrist, his mother right behind him. Neither of them even looked in Charles’ direction yet. “Are you quite sure, mother? I would hate for it to get lost or damaged or–”
“I will not let my son go to the literal Diamond Ball without diamonds. It just wouldn’t be right and since you can’t wear cufflinks with this outfit, the bracelet just makes sense. I actually wore that one when I met your father.” Mrs. Payne smiled, a bit wistfully, which was quite the unnerving look on her usually impartial face. “I have a matching set of earrings… Did you ever think about getting your ears pierced, darling?”
Edwin just blinked at her like he feared for her mental status. “No… I guess, I haven’t.”
“Well, maybe you should– Oh, we are being quite rude, dear.” She turned towards Charles and her husband with a tight smile. “Hello, Charles. I see you are wearing intact trousers. How thoughtful.”
“Uh…” Charles wasn’t really paying her much attention. Or anything for that matter. Because the second Edwin had entered to foyer, Charles’ brain had decided to shut itself off in an effort to retain all energy to simply stare.
Edwin was always pretty, always achingly beautiful – Charles had accepted that as one of the hardships he had to live with. But right now he was… angelic. His hair was soft and wavy, instead of the proper neatness Edwin abandoned more often these days. There was a soft shimmer in the corners of his eyes that brightened them like starlight, matching the sheen of the perfectly white, silky material of his garment, glowing against his pale skin. It wasn’t a suit, but a onepiece with copious amounts of fabric playing around his legs and down to his ankles, almost like a skirt. It narrowed to his trim waist, hugging his chest up to a slim band that wrapped around his throat, leaving his arms and shoulders bare. The bracelet he had been fussing with was the only jewelry he wore – a heavy silver band studded with glittering stones. The whole ensemble was incredibly simple in its elegance, but still, Edwin looked like a greek god. And Charles… Charles was lost.
“Oh, Charles!” Edwin smiled at him and it was the prettiest of smiles. Charles was so fucked. “You look marvelous, as expected.” He stepped up to him, reaching out to fix Charles’ collar like it was nothing. Just a little gesture between a couple.
“Thanks”, Charles murmured. Vaguely he remembered that Mr. and Mrs. Payne stood there watching and he should probably do something rakeish like grabbing Edwin’s ass. Instead, he took his hand and – you couldn’t ask him a moment later what came over him – raised it to his lips to kiss his knuckles. “You look like a bloody angel.”
Edwin blinked at him, a dusting of pink growing on his cheeks that made him look even more lovely. “You... you are too sweet. Shall we go?” He swiftly rescinded his hand from Charles and gathered his coat off a hook on the wall, smiling and nodding at his parents. “We won’t be out too late. Have a nice evening.”
“Now, Edwin, what is our rule for these types of events?”, Mrs. Payne called after them.
“Don’t end up in the press and if you do, it better be Vogue not the Sun.”
“Marvelous, dear. And don’t forget to give my regards to David’s mother!”
As Edwin stepped around him and out the door, Charles became privy to the fact, that his outfit was backless. He would not survive the evening.
Charles didn't know where to put his hand. The space on Edwin’s lower back, where he recently became used to resting his free hand, was bare. So touching him there seemed too intimate. However, any lower and he would basically grope his ass, which was simply more inappropriate than he could stand for right now, as they walked into the grand foyer of the very same hotel Charles had met Edwin and his mother in for tea. So he just walked next to him, his hand hovering undecidedly an inch away from his backside. After a weird look and eyebrow-raise from Edwin, Charles finally settled his hand on his hip, a bit more to the side than usual, so his hand only touched fabric. This evening was already turning into a bloody minefield.
In front of the hotel they had been greeted by a sea of cameras and people shouting names at the arriving guests. One of them flashed his camera light directly in Charles’ face as he passed and it had taken several seconds of blinking for him to regain his vision. Frowning, he had looked at the photographer. “What the hell, mate? Why’d you do that?”
The man had blinked at him. “Aren’t you… someone?”
“I’m not! I’m not even here with someone. Wait.” He had looked to Edwin. “Babe, are you someone?” He actually had never considered if Edwin would actually be known to people. However, with a slight smile, Edwin had denied being someone, even though his family had someone-money. They had left a very confused photographer behind.
The Diamond Ball was held in what a golden plaque at a pair of tall double doors proclaimed to be The Rose Hall. Aptly named, it was a big banquet hall in which perfectly white-clothed round tables with large rose centerpieces (completely obscuring the view of the person opposite of you) framed a dance floor shined to neck-breaking perfection. Everything was illuminated by chandeliers ornate with golden roses and an honest to god string quartet was doodling away from a corner of the room.
A steady stream of guests in mostly black suits and dresses every colour of the rainbow filed into the hall alongside them and Charles was pretty sure he recognized some of the faces from social media or TV. He had known that this was a sort of networking event for Britain’s upper crust youth, but he hadn’t really been able to picture how that would look like in reality. If these were the people Edwin used to hang out with before they met, Charles would have to dig for some serious celebrity gossip – his mum would be delighted. Although Edwin didn’t seem in a gossiping mood right now. His face had turned into stone the moment they had set foot in the room.
There were still a few press people scattered through the hall, but they moved discreetly and didn’t brandish their cameras on every person.
Charles’ eyes snagged on a banner stretched across the back of a stage containing only a grand piano and a microphone at the moment. DEAMON BENEFIT BALL. Oh yeah, that’s what this thing was actually called. Frowning, he leaned into Edwin. “So, if this is a charity function, what are they raising money for?”
Edwin followed his gaze to the banner and wrinkled his nose. “On paper? A new hospital in Madagascar. In reality? A probably fraudulent tax write-off.”
What did Charles expect?
They found Crystal and Niko by the long stretch of a polished bar, which was to be expected. With way more glee than he had shown since he had set foot into the hotel, Edwin congratulated the girls on their dresses – Niko wore a pastel pink poof of tulle that made her look like a fairy and Crystal had poured herself in something slinky and silver. She was already clutching a glass half filled with of some amber liquid on ice. As Edwin patiently listened to Niko gush over the grandness of the event, a fond smile on his lips, Charles leaned on the bar next to Crystal, who looked just as miserable as Edwin had moments before. “That bad?”
“Better with you guys.”
“Anyone I should look out for?” He knew Crystal well enough to read her tension as more than pure social anxiety. It took a while for her to answer. First she took a sip of her drink, then she muttered “David” and Charles instantly saw red.
“What is that cunt–”
"His folks are the ones throwing this whole thing. I knew he would be here.”
Charles frowned at her. “Wait… you mean…”
She sighed, closing her eyes for a moment as if to pray for strength. “He is David Deamon, heir to the Deamon Diamonds empire.”
There were several things Charles had to say to this and the most pressing was “They named their son David Deamon?!”
“You know David?” This was Edwin, stepping up to Charles’ side, eyes flickering between him and Crystal. As if he felt the tension in Charles’ gut, he took his arm and gently squeezed it in that soft, placating way of his.
Crystal only glowered at him. “We were dating about two years ago.”
Edwin’s flinch and expression of abject horror was confirmation enough that he too knew that this was a problem. “Oh, Crystal, I’m so sorry.”
“Why did you even come here?”, Charles asked, trying to keep the anger from his voice. He wasn’t pissed at Crystal. He just had the urge to bash some fucker’s head in.
Crystal’s eyes were fierce and sharp as she looked at him, reaching a hand out for Niko to take and gently squeeze. “I’m not gonna let that bastard dictate where I go and how I live my life.”
Charles studied her face. She looked hardened, maybe afraid, but definitely determined. He had always suspected that Crystal never told him the full extent of David’s cruelty. Probably to keep Charles out of a cell. But he knew enough, and he promised himself to keep an eye on her for the rest of the evening.
They found their seats at a table they shared with four other people: a couple who barely acknowledged their existence, a quite bubbly girl that complimented Niko on her dress and instantly launched into a tirade about how her seamstress almost got the wrong shade of tangerine for hers and a boy who at first glance seemed a bit younger than them, but probably only because he was quite short. He was pale and his hair just as his suit were the shiny, nearly bluish black of a crow’s feathers. When they approached the table, he stood to shake first the girl’s hands, then Edwin’s, his dark eyes lingering on him a bit longer than necessary. “Monty Finch”, he introduced himself. “That’s quite the outfit.”
Edwin smiled tightly. “Edwin Payne. Pleasure to meet you, Monty.” They sat and it didn’t escape Charles that Monty seemed to have forgotten to greet him.
During dinner – several courses of very small food on very big plates – Charles was simply listening to Edwin and a by now quite tipsy Crystal who, in face of better society, had formed a united front and turned the snark usually reserved for each other on their surroundings.
“Dude, is that blonde over there Carol Richards?” Subtly, Crystal nodded towards a table across from them.
Edwin followed her gesture with a glance. “The one with the unblended foundation or the one in the Vera Wang knock-off?”
“The fake Vera.”
He nodded, sipping the teaspoon of wine that was served in a giant glass along with a piece of raw, salted beef the size of a coin. God, Charles was hungry. “That’s her. Do you see that tie on her fiancé? Honestly, a violation of the Geneva Convention.”
“I heard her daddy got her an audition for the Royal National Theater.”
Edwin raised a brow, delicately placing the glass back on the table without even a clink – Charles hadn’t dared to touch his, since it looked so thin a moderate breath would probably shatter it. “And?”
“She sang La Vie En Rose.”
“Dear lord…”
“Yes!”
“Her french pronunciation is terrible.”
“It is!”
Before dessert, they had to sit through several speeches about the great morals of their hosts and the generosity of the guests and (mostly) their parents. One of them was held by fucking David – the personification of the word sleaze in a suit. Crystal had tensed when she spotted him and Charles wanted to hug her, but Niko had everything under control, as she put her soothing hands on Crystal’s shoulders to smooth out the tension, leaning their heads together and holding on. About thirty-five minutes of virtue signaling and a confusing plate of three faintly flavoured “foams” later, the string quartet who had underscored dinner with something akin to elevator music was joined by a pack of other musicians. The dance floor was open.
As the bravest couples made their way into the middle of the room, Charles leaned into Edwin’s space with a grin, offering his elbow. “May I have your first dance?”
Edwin rolled his eyes at him but took his arm anyway. “If you must.”
“Oi, you made me practice for weeks. Deal with the consequences of your own actions.”
Leading Edwin onto the dance floor, Charles was overly aware of the eyes on them. There seemed to be hundreds. Granted, they were the only two men dancing together, even in a crowd way younger than Edwin’s usual haunts. And in his manner of dress, Edwin had turned heads and raised brows the moment they had entered the hall. Still, the scrutiny made something in Charles’ neck itch.
“Don’t let yourself be bothered by them”, Edwin whispered, as if he had read Charles’ mind. “Staring is quite common with these people.”
“How can you stand it?”
“I simply focus on more pleasurable things”, he answered, stepping close to Charles and taking his hand to move it to the proper place on his back. And because he looked him right in the eyes and smiled with devastating sincerity, Charles focused.
The first dance wasn’t too bad, although Charles was by no means proficient at this point – or even good. Probably never would be. But Edwin was smiling and didn’t seem to mind his missteps. So they stayed longer on the dance floor.
Now and then Charles caught glimpses of the girls, twirling each other around. People left and entered the floor on the regular. The two of them stayed. And as Charles practically tripped over his own feet, Edwin laughed loud enough to make heads turn, especially as Charles unceremoniously put his arms around his waist and lifted him off his feet. “That’s way less hazardous, innit?”
“Great.” Edwin snarked, holding on to his shoulders. “Now we are both doomed to fall!” Charles already had.
Dimly he remembered promising Crystal and Niko to take them for a spin around the dancefloor too. But right now it was too hard to let go of Edwin, so he didn’t. And wasn’t that the motto of his last two weeks?
It was a bit strange – Charles had always liked dancing in a club-sense. Bouncing around and trashing and throwing himself into a mosh-pit to fucking feel something. Maybe even grinding against a beautiful girl, just on the cusp of something intense and wholly inappropriate. Gliding through a ballroom with Edwin Payne in his arms was very different. It was so much more. They weren’t pressed close, they weren’t even touching that much. But just the points where their hands gently held each other, where he could feel gentle pressure on his shoulder and Edwin’s waist under his fingers… somehow this felt akin to a kiss in a way that wouldn’t make sense if he tried to explain it. Intimate and freely given and special … Charles could stay like this. Let the ballroom and the shimmering guests and the glamour fall away. Just him and Edwin, moving with each other.
After a while, it was Edwin who stepped away first, and it felt like too soon. “Let’s take a break. I need to take a turn around the hall and talk to some terribly dull people unless I want their mothers to get offended and call mine about it.”
Charles sighed and nodded, trying to get himself together. God, he was losing it, wasn’t he? “Fine. But I’m coming with.”
“Don’t you want to get back to Crystal and Niko.”
He let his gaze roam the crowd without spotting the girls. Instantly, his alarm bells rang, but he spotted David at the bar talking to a bunch of guys, a pretty red-head on his arm and he knew Niko wouldn’t leave Crystal on her own. “Yeah, I think they are entertaining themselves right now. Let’s go.”
What followed was a very strange pantomime of the way Mrs. Payne had worked the crowd at the Whickham estate. Granted, way more entertaining since Edwin barely made an effort to be nice to people. But it still evoked the impression of some distorted déjà-vu in Charles. Watching people his own age and in some cases even younger talk to each other like that was... unnerving. All I heard your father closed the deal with such-and-such and Did you hear about that big merger? and Give my best to your mother and Is it true you are dating the son of Duke–
“It’s not”, Edwin spat, quite exasperated after the fifth time someone asked. Charles, who during the whole exercise had embraced his function as arm-candy and had draped himself over Edwin’s back, just chuckled as the boy in the bottle-green suit they were talking to looked affronted by Edwin’s brash retort. “Well, I heard–”
“Do you think this man–” Edwin gestured to Charles who gave the bloke a lazy smile. “–is simply part of my outfit?”
“I do make a nice accessory, don’t I?”
The boy sputtered about for a bit before Edwin ended the conversation with a huff, tugging Charles along to the next halfwit he had to rub elbows with. Somewhere along the way, they met up with the girls again and finally split up – Edwin to escort Niko to the dance floor, Charles to escort Crystal to the bar.
“Sooo…” He watched her, grinning as she stirred her Gin Tonic with a straw. Her lips were a bit pinker than they had been before she and Niko had vanished. “You snogged?”
“A lady doesn’t kiss and tell”, she muttered, but her cheeks were right aflame.
“Good thing you’re not a lady. Spill.”
She took a sip of her drink to buy herself some time but he just watched her with continuous smugness until she caved. “Yes… we kissed.”
“Yes!” He took her shoulders to shake her a bit. “Good girl! How was it?”
Crystal rolled her eyes at him, but she did smile – a tiny little thing at the corner of her mouth. “Very… very nice.” She tapped her nails on the shiny surface of the bar. “Like… actually it was awesome.” Finally, she grinned at him and Charles took the opportunity to wrap his arms around her and hug her tight. “Crystal, that’s amazing. I’m so happy for you! So what, are you a thing now?”
A bit flustered, she shrugged, eyes bright and excited. “I think so? I didn’t ask. But like-… I will. Tonight. Like … you wanna be my girlfriend? Is that stupid? Is it lame to ask that?”
“It’s not, Crystal. I think Niko will appreciate the romance of it.”
Quickly she nodded, chewing on her straw as a wave of thoughts quickly stormed over her expression. “Yeah… yeah, she will. Because Niko likes that sort of stuff. I gotta step up my game, man. I want to be a good girlfriend. I… I’m gonna brainstorm date ideas and like… I don’t know. I don’t want to mess this up.” There was a certain tremor in her voice that Charles knew all too well, so he put his arm around her shoulders, holding her close.
“Oi, don’t freak out. You’re gonna be a great girlfriend. Niko’s lucky to have you.”
“I’m lucky”, she murmured into her drink, before looking up at him. “So what’s going on with you?”
Charles blinked at her. “What do you mean?”
“Don’t make me share my feelings alone, fucker.”
With a sigh, he leaned a bit more into her, taking the glass out of her hands and taking a deep gulp himself. It was damn good gin, to be honest. “I don’t know, Crys…” He sat the glass down with a thump. “I just … this whole thing is getting way out of hand.”
“I’m gonna invest in a I told you so banner. With you, it would quickly pay for itself.”
“Oi, it’s not like… like we’re hooking up or something. It’s just… everything is a bit more confused than I had anticipated with the whole pretend-dating thing.” Charles sighed, barely resisting the urge to run his fingers through his hair and muss it all up. Quietly, he mumbled: “He’s really special, Crystal. I… simply don’t want to fuck it up.” Numbly, he was aware of how ironic and circular their conversation had become. Crystal frowned at him and it was a very Crystal-thing to do – because she never really got that Charles was way worse of a screw-up than she had ever been. “Like … he picked me out for this scheme because we are not at all compatible and I’m just enough of a wanker to give his parents a fright, right? Because we might work as friends, but that’s about it. Because I’m …” Too much. Not enough. Not right?
He glanced over to the dance floor but didn’t see Niko and Edwin anymore. Instead, as he let his searching gaze wander, his train of thought came to a downright screeching halt. Because standing there, across the hall at their table, next to his abandoned chair was Monty. And he held Edwin’s hand. Not in the traditional hand-holding way, but cradled in his, palm up, one finger seemingly following the lines there. Edwin watched him with an expression Charles could vaguely place as amused incredulity – but only since it was usually leveled at him.
“Oh, scary.”
His head snapped back to Crystal, who gave him a bemused look. “What?”
“Don’t what me, you look like you want to punt that guy off a cliff.”
“I don’t–”
“You are jealous.” It was a mocking singsong, like they were children teasing each other about their crushes – which was pretty much what was happening, to be fair.
“I’m not jealous”, Charles huffed. “That guy isn’t even Edwin’s type– And even if he was, why would I be jealous?”
Crystal blinked at him, unimpressed. “Alright Mr. Denial, how do you know he’s not his type?”
He sputtered a bit, looking for an answer at the bottom of the half-empty gin glass. “I dunno… he’s short.”
“Riveting argument.”
“Oh, shut it.” He glanced back towards their table. By now Monty looked up and smiled at Edwin, pointing at something on his palm (and really how long could one stare at a hand for? It was just a hand! (It was Edwin’s hand (Charles tended to stare at it for hours))). And Edwin chuckled. Which jumpstarted Charles into downing his drink, mumbling a quick “Later” to Crystal and getting over there in long, anxious strides.
“Hey, babe!” He said it loud enough to startle Monty, who decidedly didn’t drop Edwin’s hand and by now it made something in Charles neck itch. So as he stepped up behind Edwin, he put his arms around his middle, propping his chin on his shoulder to get a good look at the guy. “What are you talking about?”
“Oh, there you are, darling.” With a soft smile, Edwin retrieved his hand from Monty and instead used it to reach over his shoulder and place it on Charles cheek. It was a placating gesture. Like one would reassure a jealous lover. And at that point Charles realized there had been an unintended edge to his voice. And Edwin was playing along with something that wasn’t fake at all. “Monty here was telling me all about the art of palmistry. Apparently, I have an interesting heart line.”
Despite himself, Charles leaned into Edwin’s hand as he, frankly, glowered at Monty, who seemed to shrink away. It fed something in Charles that scared him just a bit, so he tried to keep his voice light. “Fascinating. Well, Monty, thanks for keeping this one company.” And because he was a prick at heart he placed a kiss on Edwin’s throat. With quiet satisfaction, he watched his ears turn pink. Suddenly he was very aware of Edwin’s naked back against his silken shirt, his body heat seeping right through the thin fabric.
“It’s a pleasure to talk to Edwin.”
Charles dragged his gaze back to Monty and tried not to frown. The boy simply smiled at him, wholly unimpressed by Charles’ posturing (and yes, he was faintly aware that’s what he was doing...). “Yeah, it’s always pleasurable with him. Speaking of…” He put his hands firmly on Edwin’s hips and turned him around, letting him tumble into his chest, before leaning down and placing a kiss on his cheek. “You wanna get some fresh air, sweetness?”
Edwin blinked at him, eyes searching his face as if trying to solve an equation, and Charles tried to smile, cover his tension. Because he really didn’t want to be a prick just because Edwin was … what, talking to a guy? A rich guy who belonged in places like this and didn’t have to hide a black eye and …
“Of course, darling.” Gently, Edwin’s lips brushed his jaw and it quickly smoothed away Charles’ irritation. With an apologetic smile for Monty, Edwin took his arm and led Charles away from the table and out of the ballroom. The hallway was empty, safe for a few people swiftly walking in and out of the Rose Hall to go for a smoke or look for the bathrooms. Edwin led him down the corridor and for a while Charles simply enjoyed walking side by side with a beautiful boy and not feeling guilty about it. Although it didn’t take long for him to realize that Edwin was watching him with a quiet curiosity that seemed to seep right through to his bones.
“What exactly did you try to accomplish in there, Charles?”
Charles shrugged, trying to act casual. He wasn’t any good at it. “Save you from a boring conversation, like the gentleman I am?”
Edwin scoffed at him. “I wouldn’t spend so much time with you if you were a gentleman, Charles. And it wasn’t boring at all. Quite interesting, actually. Apparently, Monty’s and my star signs are very compatible.” His tone was earnest but there was an amused glint in his eyes that belied his sudden interest in astrology.
Charles huffed a chuckle, coming to a standstill after turning a corner and finding themselves in an empty corridor. As blasé as possible – which wasn’t that blasé at all – he leaned his back against a wall. Maybe he couldn’t banish one hundred percent of the bitterness from his tone. “Is that so? Well, if it’s destined by the stars, I should clear the field, shouldn’t I?”
Edwin’s gaze turned carefully neutral as he stepped towards him, stopping just a few inches apart and causing Charles’ hands to automatically find their place on his waist where they belonged. “Would you want to? Clear the field, that is?”
Charles shrugged, focusing on his fingers grazing bare skin where they were usually separated by layers of oversized clothing. “Not actually in the game, am I?”
Edwin’s face was unreadable as he nodded. “I guess not…”
“You could go back in, you know? Didn’t want to rain on your parade, mate. If you’re actually having a good time with that guy…”
“It’s quite alright”, Edwin interrupted him, hand reaching up to fiddle with the chain around Charles’ neck, pulling it in place with gentle brushes of his fingertips. “I don’t have time to flirt tonight. I’m here to parade myself around on the arm of some wicked hooligan."
Charles laughed, but it felt quite hollow to his own ears. Because what the fucking hell were they even doing here? “We should probably do something inappropriate then. You know... get some gossip brewin’.”
“Probably.”
They were very close in a very empty hallway. For a moment Charles let himself relish the familiar fit of his hands on Edwin. The elegant curve of his back that brought him closer to Charles. The scent of bergamotte that cloaked them. For such a slender person, Edwin wasn’t lanky. Charles had the sort of muscle that came along with getting whacked over and over with a cricket bat for ten years while also hitting several growth spurts that elongated you into oblivion. Edwin was a dancer and he looked the part, the lines of his arms, shoulders and back defined and elegant like bowstrings, drawn taut with understated strength.
Gentle fingers caressed the lapels of his suit jacket as Edwin looked at him with so much uncertainty that Charles wanted to both laugh and cry about it. How could that beautiful boy not know by now how desperately he needed him? Edwin’s voice was a mere whisper. “Charles?”
“Hm?”
“You may kiss me... if you please.”
Charles swallowed dryly, falling deeper into the sea of Edwin’s eyes. “Please...”
It didn’t take much then. He only tightened his grip a fraction, didn’t even need to draw him closer, Edwin just sank right into him and their lips met. The small sigh that escaped Edwin – something like earth-shattering relief – was everything Charles needed to lose his mind. It was like taking the first breath of air after nearly suffocating. He had been stealing quick kisses under the guise of acting – by God, did he feel like a thief about it. But they would never be enough anymore.
Charles had been elated that one night when Edwin had allowed himself to be pushed into the mattress. Had allowed Charles to get his hands all over him. The moment had been circling through his mind in a never ending loop, always with the question of what could’ve happened next. But this felt different. With his back against the wall and Edwin’s hands on his chest, keeping him in place without any pressure… more than anything it felt like Edwin truly wanted this. And that might just be the greatest feeling in the whole world. Charles Rowland wanted so much, it was as familiar as breathing to him. He didn’t have a lot of experience being wanted... It was a dizzying sensation. As they finally got to reunite in a proper kiss again, Edwin’s lithe body was arching into Charles, his lips soft and easily parted… He could fit his fingers to Edwin’s ribs and feel them expand in ever quickening breath.
Carefully, as if touching the thinnest glass, Charles let his knuckles brush the naked skin of Edwin’s back. He shuddered against him and when he didn’t push Charles away he proceeded to slip just two firm fingers down his spine, feeling every ridge down to where they caught on satin again. And then Edwin’s lips parted in a wordless invitation he simply had to follow.
Gone was the anxious frenzy of their first kiss – this one was slow and deliberate. Charles allowed himself to take the time this deserved – because Edwin had asked for it. To map out his back with careful fingertips. Edwin himself seemed perfectly liquid against him, shuddering under his touch, hands slipping down the slick silk of his shirt only to find their way up to his neck again, searing his skin and caressing his face, holding him oh, so close.
Deliriously, Charles thought this must be it. The good thing. The real thing. The one they wrote all the songs and books and shows about.
He caught Edwin’s bottom lip with his teeth and gently bit down, earning a gasp that rang true to his ears. And then Edwin was even closer, their legs slotting together as his fingers caught Charles’ hair, turning them into a single knot rather than two people. With molten heat rising deep, deep within him, Charles replaced his gentle fingertips with his nails, traveling down and down Edwin’s back, making that beautiful boy moan.
“I got you, love.” The word fell from Charles’ lips and into Edwin’s so easily. It tasted just as nice as he had imagined. As his hand slipped lower over pearl-white satin, his mouth found that spot he dreamed about, right under Edwin’s ear. All he got in answer was a broken whimper as he let his lips glide over heated skin, bright and rosy against the white.
“‘You still with me?”
The tiniest of nods and a shuddering breath.
Charles leaned away, just a fraction to catch Edwin’s gaze. “Come now, love. Use your words, I know you got ‘em. If you keep silent, I gotta stop, don’t I?”
Edwin stared at him with rosy cheeks and liquid eyes and red, spit-shined lips and he should’ve looked a bloody mess, but to Charles he looked like everything. “Don’t. Please don’t…” His voice – god his voice. It was breathy and earnest and wrecked.
“Don’t what, love?” He had to say it again. Over and over as long as he was allowed to.
And when Edwin whispered “Don’t stop...” Charles nearly lost himself. They fell into each other with a new certainty that was downright addicting. Edwin was so close to him, so pliant in his arms as he allowed Charles’ tongue to draw beautiful patterns into his mouth. Like his whole body was trying to spell out the ravenous yes Charles had asked for.
For a heady, manic moment, he cursed Edwin’s fashion choices for their disregard of easy removal. While their surroundings had turned into a blur by now, Charles did retain the common decency not to completely disrobe Edwin in a public hallway, no matter how much he wanted to. Still, he could let his fingers glide over the shiny, glowy fabric his hysterical mind was suddenly associating with wedding attire and – since Edwin didn’t stop him and his breath hitched, and he tugged tightly on his hair in that delicious way of his – right between his thighs. Perhaps drunkenly, he thought that beautiful, beautiful Edwin Payne should only ever be touched through silk.
A heartbeat later, the background noise of the Rose Hall violently slammed itself into the foreground. With startled gasps, the boys parted, blinking at each other as if they had just woken up from a dream. “Was that–”, Edwin began, but then there was another shout.
Something ice cold trickled through Charles’ veins. “Crystal.”
They took off.
The scene they arrived to in the Rose Hall, was at first simply… confusing. The waltz had stopped, a bunch of befuddled musicians looked between the scene and each other, probably trying to figure out what the best ambiance would be for this shit show. The dancing couples had made room in the middle of the dance floor, like people would in a club whenever a fight broke out, leering at the assholes who decided to bust the party. Unfortunately, one of these assholes belonged to Charles.
Crystal stood in the middle of the dancefloor, arms crossed and face severe as she stared at David, whose ruddy complexion hinted at him being absolutely shitfaced. They stood only a few inches apart, shouting at each other and Charles was genuinely impressed by Crystal’s creative use of American and British obscenities to create a picture of how much of a knob David was and how little she cared about his opinions on who she – ooooh, was this about Niko? She stood behind Crystal, hands on her shoulders. and Charles wasn’t sure if she was hiding or holding her new girlfriend back.
“This is a new low, David! Even for you”, Crystal huffed just as Charles and Edwin made their way through the crowd. “You don’t have any right to tell me where to go or what to do! Your parents invited my to get money out of mine. Don’t pretend this is anything different!”
“You are basically stalking me!” David glowered at her, the harshness of his voice somehow ruined by its lilting. “Showing up here with some fucking clown-ass bitch and–”
“Woah!” Charles got between them just a split-second before Crystal could put her new manicure to good use and scratch the fucker’s eyes out. He ushered her back into Niko with a look like get your girl and she nodded, gently pulling a fuming Crystal away. Turning towards David, he frowned at him, trying to temper his own irritation. “Oi, why don’t you step away, bruv? Nobody’s here to fight. We’re all just trying to have a good time, don’t we?”
“Who the fuck are you to even talk to me?” David sneered at him. “This is a conversation between me and that skank over there!” He shouted the last words towards Crystal.
“Actually”, Edwin stepped up beside Charles, taking his arm as if he was already anticipating having to draw him back. “It might be a conversation between the two of us, David. What would your mother think of your display at a function she has been planning and preparing for a whole year?” His voice was iron and haughty – very unlike how he talked to his friends. Charles grinned – oh, how he adored Edwin being a bitch to people who deserved it.
Before David could do anything but groan a “God, not you, Payne…”, the red-head in the unnervingly turquoise dress Charles had seen him with earlier had fought her way through the onlookers and heel-clacked her way towards him. “David!”
“Oh, dear lord”, Edwin muttered to himself. “Not her.”
Charles didn’t get the chance to ask, because the girl had already attached herself to David’s arm and locked her eyes on Edwin with the most unconvincingly sweet smile ever. “Oh, Edwin. I didn’t expect to see you here. And in such an… interesting outfit.” Tilting her head to the side (one of her huge glittery earrings dangled right in David’s face), she let her gaze roam over him, snagging on the bracelet on his wrist. “Diamonds for the Diamond Ball, huh? Groundbreaking.”
Edwin’s brow twitched in irritation. “Well, Natalie, I would’ve gone with Swarovski but it looks like you are wearing enough cheap glass for the both of us.” The girl gaped at him, but Edwin had already returned his attention to her date. “Why don’t we all take a breather and end this embarrassing display here, David?” He looked around for a waiter. “Would someone bring Mr. Deamon a glass of water to calm his nerves?”
David stepped closer, dragging Natalie along and glowering at Edwin. “Who even asked for your prissy-ass opinion, Payne? Go twirl around in a corner and let me deal with my business.”
Instantly, Charles squared off, drawing Edwin closer to his side. “Back off, bruv.”
“Charles”, gently, Edwin patted his arm and untangled himself. With an anxious twist in his stomach, Charles watched him get closer to David, lowering his voice so their audience couldn’t hear. “Now, David… be a gentleman and know when it is time to let things be. You’ve already shamed your family enough tonight by attacking a guest. If you don’t …” There was a wicked shine in Edwin’s eye, one Charles knew all to well and was way to amused to see. “I will say the quiet part out loud. And we both know how bad that would sound. After all, my father likes to share business information over dinner. Quite useful for occasions like these.”
In this moment, David’s eyes turned from drunken anger, to ice cold hatred. “What happened, Payne?”, he spat. “You suddenly think you can play ball, just because you waltz in here with these two disgusting dyke bitches and some dirty pleb–”
And that is how David Deamon, heir to a diamond empire, got the wind knocked out of him by a swift knee right to the family jewels. With a tone as shrill as a tea kettle, he fell to his knees. Natalie screeched “David!” and there were some shouts and sharp intakes of breath from an overall wincing crowd (also a loud laugh from behind them, that was probably Crystal).
“Okay!” Charles took Edwin’s arm, trying to pull him away. “That’s probably our cue to leave, mate.” Unexpectedly, however, Edwin fought his grip, apparently ready to deliver the next hit right to David’s scrunched up face. In an effort to de-escalate (which was a quite unnatural position for him), and with security already closing in on them, Charles simply picked up his pretend-boyfriend like a sack of flour, hauling him over his shoulder and then hauling his ass out of the Rose Hall, the giggling girls hot on his heels, holding hands while running.
For the first few steps, Edwin was struggling, but eventually he resigned himself to simply stretching out two choice fingers towards David, the security guards and a sea of flashing camera lights. “Regards to your mother, Deamon!”
Chapter 8: Lover’s Quarrel
Notes:
Credit where credit is due: The ending of the Diamond Ball evening is inspired by the delightful deadtwinksdetectiveagency who so graciously suggested: streetfood in ballgowns! How could I resist?
Little disclaimer: As far as I know the famous thirty-two fouettés are not actually in the Odile solo variation but in the act III pas de deux … sorry to the ballet nerds out there for my creative liberties!
Trigger warning: mentions of abuse, nothing explicit is described
Have fun with this one folks – honestly, it got a bit away from me.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The next day, Charles woke up to a headache, a cotton-dry mouth and the insistent buzzing of his phone next to his ear. Frowning, he raised his head off his pillow and glanced around the room. The black and red pile in the corner was probably his suit. He would have to smuggle that one back to Crystal’s place soon. Speaking of… He sat up with an inhuman noise, running his fingers through his hair and blinking at the sparse sunlight filtering in through the small window in his basement room, before he took his phone and answered the call. “We got to bed at three a.m. last night”, he greeted graciously. “And it’s fucking Sunday.”
Crystal huffed through the phone. “I know. We’ve got a problem, asshole.”
Charles groaned, rubbing his face with his free hand as he stood and grabbed for the first pair of joggers in his reach he could tug on. Last night had been a fucking fever-dream, especially after they had made their sudden departure from the Diamond Ball. As they had left the hotel through a side exit to avoid more cameras and the security detail that was probably hot on their heels, the fight had drained from Edwin and he had just hung off Charles’ shoulder with the air of a particularly peturbed kitten forced to be carried around by a overly affectionate child. “You know, at some point you may put me down”, he had grumbled, but Charles had only placatingly patted the back of his thigh in an effort not to simply slap his butt.
“I will once I’m sure you won’t start swingin’ again, troublemaker.”
Edwin had huffed and puffed for the next minutes until they were far enough away from the hotel to slow their steps. Charles had set him on his feet and before he could get lectured by a red-faced Edwin, Niko had chirped: “Is anyone else hungry?” And god, had they been hungry. The fucking microscopic portions of the event had left them all starving and way too tipsy from just little alcohol, so Charles had taken the opportunity to lead them to his favourite falafel place he knew would still be open at the late hour – Naomi and Mavis always kept the shop running way later than what was advertised on their front door, thus they were a popular destination for the clubbing crowd.
The four of them had caught some odd looks as they had entered the dingy shop in their evening attire and proceeded to order a metric fuck-ton of food. Huddling together at the only empty table – Niko perching on Crystal’s lap in lieu of a chair – they had wolfed down crispy falafel fresh out of the oil, soft flatbread, spicy and fresh sauces and obscene amounts of hummus and baba ganoush.
“Are you gonna get in trouble?”, Charles had asked Edwin who had looked at his falafel as if he considered building a life with them. “Like… for hittin’ our host in the nuts?”
Edwin had shrugged, frowning. “Maybe. But probably not. You must understand, Charles, my father and David’s parents are business partners. Where I come from, people seldom involve the authorities in these kinds of situations. They use them as bargaining chips for their next business endeavours or for a social favour. I’m sure my parents will have to agree to some deal or arrangement in order to keep things civil… but there are little consequences for people like me.” His stormy eyes had found Charles’ and his tone alone was an apology. “That’s not true for you. So I’m glad you let me handle this.”
“Oi, I didn’t let you do anything. You handled this shit like a champ, didn’t you? I would’ve gone for the clavicle though, that one’s a bitch to heal.”
A smile had tugged on Edwin’s lips then, and for a moment Charles had vividly remembered kissing them not an hour before. “I shall note that down for the future.”
After they had finished off their meal with sticky sweet baklava, they had put the girls in a cab destined for Crystal’s place to do whatever girls were meant to do after confirming being girlfriends. Charles and Edwin had strolled through the London night a bit longer, not even talking that much – just walking next to each other, hands occasionally brushing, being in each other’s space as the moonlight painted them silver.
Now the sunlight was set on burning Charles’ retinas, however, so he quickly turned away from the window, trying to get his mind back on track. “What problem are we talking about?”
“You are in the fucking Sun!”
“What?!”
“Check your texts.” He did – Crystal had sent him a link to an online article heinously titled THIS SEASONS DIAMOND BALL TURNED HAZARDOUS FOR THE DIAMOND HEIR’S BALLS.
“Fucking hell”, Charles muttered and quickly skimmed the text, broken up by various pictures of the evening. It was mainly about fucking David, who was the kind of lower-case-c celebrity famous for having a lot of money and making downright embarrassing thirst traps on TikTok. There were a few shots in which he just looked drunk as hell, screaming at a frowning Crystal and one glorious picture of him writhing on the floor, clutching his crotch.
The next two, however, were of Edwin and him. One of them was basically just Edwin, hooked over Charles’ shoulder like the most indigent sack of potatoes ever, stretching two middle-fingers into a camera. The other was quite a beautiful shot of them both actually, if one ignored that they were squaring off against their asshole host. Dimly, Charles wondered if he always stood so close to Edwin, pretty much draped on his back, one arm hanging over his shoulder, and Edwin lounging into him, held in place by Charles’ hand on his hip. They looked like a couple. A couple of assholes, what with Edwin’s sneer and Charles’ manic grin, but still. For a moment he felt quite fond of the pictures and took a screenshot of both, making a mental note on setting one of them as his phone’s wallpaper later.
Quickly scanning the text below, Charles surmised that they got Edwin’s name and linked him to the Payne & Associates law firm that handled business for several political leaders. Since Edwin was basically a ghost of a person with no social media presence and no apparent public relations to any celebrity whatsoever, there wasn’t much else. They focused way more on Crystal, who had been haunted as a London socialite by tabloids since she was a kid but basically dropped off the face of the earth two years ago after her very loud and public final break-up with David, deleting all her social media, blowing off a modeling gig and attending no society events anymore.
However, just before he closed the tab, Charles’ eyes caught on one of the last paragraphs in the article:
As several pictures of the event show, Payne had been placed at the same table as Crystal Palace Surname-von-Hovercraft – at this time, prior association cannot be confirmed but speculated. After the escalation, both left the venue escorted by minor Japanese Instagram influencer and dancer Niko Sasaki (@nikodances) and another guest who was identified by our photographer as Payne’s date for the evening. However, trusted sources report that Payne is currently in a non-public relationship with the son of Duke–
“Can you fucking believe that? Date for the evening? Edwin could fucking marry me and people would still ask him about that bloody–”
Impatiently, Crystal cut him off. “Charles, you are not focusing on the important thing here! They identified you as his date. The story is breaking all over the internet.”
“So what?”
“Well, aren’t you worried about how your father will react to this?”
Charles scoffed. “My dad doesn’t read shit on the internet. He still keeps his books for the shop on paper.”
“Mhm... okay... Charles, aren’t you forgetting something?”
“What?”
“Print media!”
“Fuck!”
He didn’t even end the call, just chucked the phone on his bed and raced out of his room as panic seized in him. It was Sunday – maybe his dad hadn’t gotten to the paper yet, maybe it was still outside … Heart pounding, he took two steps at a time, going at break neck speed up the steep basement staircase, nearly crashing into the hallway. He was halfway to the front door, when he came to a screeching halt. Because through the arch leading into the dining room he saw his dad sitting at the table, breakfast already set out before him. And he was holding the bloody paper, considering the very picture of Edwin and–…
A coffee stain where Charles’ face should’ve been.
Open-mouthed, he watched his father mutter something about rich brats and their tantrums before turning the page. Then his mum came in from the kitchen, coffee pot in hand and looking at Charles with a strained smile as she poured her husband another cup.
As Charles tried to regain his breath, to slow the thumping of his pulse, panic subsided and curdled into dread. He couldn’t be sure if his dad recognized Edwin or even Crystal – Charles never brought friends home, but he had seen both of them at his football game and had been talked at by Crystal for a good fifteen minutes. Carefully, Charles schooled his face into a Sunday morning smile and entered the room. “Mornin’!”
He quickly kissed his mother’s cheek before sitting down next to his dad, who didn’t even look up from the paper. For a few painfully silent minutes, Charles could only watch him out of the corner of his eye as his mum put a plate of scrambled eggs and a cup of tea in front of him – her and Charles usually started Sunday with a spiced chai in the kitchen, hiding away in their shared sanctum his father seldom entered on principle. Today, however, everything seemed skewed and they both knew it.
“It seems–”, his father began and Charles instantly tensed, eyes locked on his eggs. “Your little friend got in a lot of trouble yesterday.”
“Yeah…”
“Were you with her, when that happened?” Her. He was talking about Crystal, not Edwin. And his voice was so neutral. But Charles knew that tone well – he had to tread carefully now.
“I wasn’t. I left early, it was a proper boring evening. Now I wish I would’ve stayed longer so maybe that asshole wouldn’t have tried anything with her.”
His dad hummed and turned another page. “See, son… that’s what you get from hangin’ ‘round those people. Think they are better than everyone, think laws and common decency don’t apply to them.”
“Yeah… you’re right.” The words tasted like sand on his tongue.
“You think that poof who assaulted that guy will suffer any consequences? No! Because those people think they can do whatever they want and it won’t bite them in the ass.” His voice was getting louder now and Charles clenched his teeth to keep his mouth shut. At the same time, it nagged on him, that Edwin had pretty much said the same thing last night.
Thankfully, his dad did not take his silence as defiance. “People like these aren’t like you and me, son. You’re gonna see. They would throw you under the bus for less than your shoes are worth. If you know what’s good for you, you better stick with the boys on your team. Or those high society brats will be the death of you.”
Charles nodded and reached for his tea. “Yes… you’re right”, he repeated, because that was the only safe thing to say right now. He should be relieved, really. Apparently, his dad was in a fatherly mood, giving advice – sometimes that happened, when he fancied himself a family man that day. Even if all his wisdom was underlined with a sense of or else. But for now, Charles was fine – or rather, in a strange purgatory that didn’t hurt him for now. Because yes, his father would probably not go out of his way to read tabloids to find out more about the incident. But his mum often told him how many of the neighborhood’s housewives were devoted readers of any gossip column they could get their hands on. Would someone recognize Charles? He had worn more makeup than usual and they got the side of him without his signature earring that would’ve been a dead give-away, he was dressed in a suit and, well... attending a high-society event. So it was very unlikely anyone would even think that was him. He told himself to be fucking relieved. Everything would be fine. It would be fine.
Much like Edwin and Charles’ father had divined, the Deamons didn’t press any charges. Things were handled privately – so privately, actually, that Edwin himself didn’t know how he had gotten away with pretty much assaulting David. However, it was still a touchy subject if Mr. Payne would lose one of his biggest clients or if they would agree that both of their sons had acted like idiots and leave it even. Charles tried to only see the positives – he didn’t want Edwin to get into trouble, of course not. Still, the whole situation left a bitter taste in his mouth.
Desperately hoping things would just get back to normal, Charles had not discussed his fear of his dad seeing the photos with anyone. Of course Crystal knew whether he told her or not. And Edwin … well, he hadn’t seen Edwin all week. They were still sparsely texting, but even then Edwin often took half the day to answer. It made something in Charles itch, like his skin was too small for his body. Was Edwin avoiding him? Because of the tabloids – or the escalation at the ball – because of the kiss…? He even tried to call Edwin one evening and he hadn’t picked up, which really freaked Charles out. It took him until Thursday to cave. Which, he told himself, was at least a day longer than last time he hadn’t spent the week seeing Edwin every day. It might be getting better. (It probably wasn’t.)
He met with Crystal at her place to hang out just the two of them, which they barely did anymore – and it was nice, just sitting on her couch, letting her paint his nails black and rant about her classes and the upcoming exhibit the visual arts department would hold in a few weeks and how she still didn’t know what piece to hand in for it… Still, as hard as he tried to be present and be a good fucking friend and be there for Crystal for once, she did have a sixth sense for Charles-Rolwand-Bullshit. So while she riffled through her box of nail-polish on the lookout for something fun to add to the black, she asked: “So why are you pouting?”
He looked at her, appalled. “I don’t pout!”
She gave him an unimpressed look before choosing a glittery topcoat and taking his hand once more. “You do. Are things not good with Edwin, or…?”
Charles frowned at his nails. He really liked them painted but he would have to scratch the polish off before coming home that night and it was always a fucking shame to ruin Crystal’s work. “I don’t know how things are with Edwin. We barely talked this week. Do you–” He hesitated, suddenly feeling sheepish. “Did Niko say anything to you? He’s not like… avoiding me, is he?”
Crystal’s head snapped up and she gave him a suspicious look. “Why? Does he have a reason do avoid you?”
Breathless kissing, his nails on Edwin’s back, his hand between his thighs– “No?!”
She didn’t seem convinced, but continued the manicure anyway. “Well, I don’t think he is. Niko says the showcase is kinda driving him mad. They both stay late every day to practice and even when she leaves he stays longer.” Chewing on her lip, she took his other hand and continued. “I think she’s a bit worried about him, actually.”
Instantly, Charles felt like a prick. Here he was whining about Edwin ‘avoiding’ him, when the guy was stressing about his future – something he had told Charles about. He really ought to do better by him. “Oi, do you know where in the Academy building their practice rooms are?”
Crystal glowered at him – her bullshit-radar must’ve gone off like a firework. “If I tell you, will you promise me to actually talk to the guy for once? Like a person?”
Charles promised – but they both knew it was a long shot.
As darkness fell over London, Charles picked up some of the falafel Edwin had fallen in love with Sunday night and took them to the Academy. It was a bit eerie walking through the marble halls, his steps echoing since the building was pretty much empty except for the occasional glimpse of cleaning staff or a teacher staring dead-eyed at a stack of papers on their desk. Charles had been inside the Academy only a few times to pick up Crystal, so he kinda knew his way around the art department, but the dance studios were way deeper in the back of the building. For a while he felt like a ghost haunting the hallowed floors – or like someone people would probably call security about. But then he heard the swaying notes of classical music, guiding him towards one of the last doors through which light filtered into the hallway.
For a moment he stood in the doorway and just watched, a bit stunned. The studio was a large room with dark grey floors and stark white walls – one of them covered in mirrors. A few bars where lined up on the far wall under tall windows letting in the orange glow of streetlights. And in the middle of the room there was Edwin, turning and turning to the furious crescendo of the music. Charles could only stare at the elegant and forceful twist of his body, one leg moving to gain momentum each turn while the other was perfectly straight, holding him up on en pointe –
You can’t do anything other than hope you don’t fall … It feels like flying.
Enthralled, Charles barely registered Niko standing to the side and counting. “Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty, thir– Ey, thirty! That was great!”
She clapped her hands, but Edwin, who had abruptly stopped his last turn as if his leg had simply buckled beneath him only frowned at her. “Two less than required.”
“Three more than I can do.”
“Not good enough.”
“Almost perfect.”
They squabbled a bit, still not noticing Charles, who tried to shake himself back to reality. “Oi!”, he walked in, holding up the take-out bag. “I hear you two were working hard. Need some fuel, don’t you?”
The two of them turned towards him, Niko in delight, Edwin with a look of genuine shock on his face. “Charles!” His voice squeaked a bit and it was downright darling. “What are you doing here?”
“You need to work on your listening comprehension”, Charles quipped as he handed Niko a falafel sandwich. She instantly dropped into a lotus seat on the floor to dig in. “Come on, time for a break.” He strained to ignore the fact that Edwin’s workout ensemble of a black vest and shorts showed decidedly way more skin than Charles had ever seen from him – losing his shit about knees would do him no good.
“Niko, we are not allowed to eat in here”, Edwin chided, instead of taking the food Charles held out for him. “Anyway, I can’t eat right now, I’m not finished.”
It took a lot of nagging from Charles and Niko’s best puppy-dog-eyes for Edwin to concede to sitting on the floor and at least drinking some water. Charles sat next to him and tried not to watch him like a creep. “That looked fucking amazing what you did back there. All those turns – how does that even work?”
“Physics”, Edwin answered shortly, and Charles tried to tell himself that his bad mood was probably due to stress, not due to anything Charles did. It was a hard task.
Before he could say anything else, Niko offered Edwin his phone that had been sitting in his sportsbag on the floor next to her. “That thing has been buzzing for hours now.”
Edwin sighed and took it. His face did smooth out at whatever he was reading on the screen and he started to tap, fingers slow – he really did text like an old man.
For a while, Charles listened to Niko chatter about their training and school and how many more people followed her on instagram now that Edwin wasn’t just grumpy-ballet-dude but also famous for kicking a known asshole in the groin to protect a girl. However, Charles’ eyes were constantly drifting towards Edwin, who was texting all the while, an unreadable expression on his face. Something strange was in the air between them, and Charles couldn’t quite put his finger on it. So after enduring about fifteen minutes of that, he – quite rudely, to be honest – interrupted Niko’s recount of how miffed Natalie was with them the whole week, to ask: “Oi, who are you texting, mate?”
Quickly, Edwin looked up and put his phone away, as if he was reprimanded at the dinner table, but his voice was carefully even as he said: “Monty Finch.”
It took a moment for Charles to place that name, but when he did, something inside of him was heating up to an uncomfortable degree. He tried to keep his tone as casual as Edwin’s. “Didn’t know you'd given him your digits.” Had they exchanged numbers before Charles had disrupted their conversation? Just before Edwin had kissed him?
“I haven’t.” Frowning, Edwin looked at Niko, who simply smiled sweetly and shrugged.
“He follows me on instagram – has been for a while actually, since he is a dancer too. On Sunday he dm-ed me and asked for Edwin’s number.”
Charles tried not to let his irritation show. “And you just gave it to him?”
“Why not? It’s not like he is some creepy stranger off the internet.” Charles begged to differ. “We’ve met him and talked to him. And I think it’s nice when people go for the things they want. If you don’t, they will just slip away. Don’t you think so, Charles?”
He stared at her. Niko stared back with mild amusement. That girl was fucking devious. Even Edwin looked at her with his lips pressed together in some semblance of annoyance – whatever that was about. Swiftly, she stood then, stopping the conversation in its tracks. “Whatever, gotta go, boys! Crystal has a date planned for us. I’m so excited!” She left with a squeal and a hug for both before flouncing out of the studio. “Don’t stay too late!”
Looking after her for a moment, Edwin sighed and turned to Charles, his face strangely insecure all of a sudden. “I will stay a bit longer. I still need to get the hang of some things. Thank you so much for bringing food, that was very kind of you. I will eat it once I’m done training.”
It sounded like he wanted Charles to say his goodbyes – good thing Charles didn’t give a fuck. “No worries, mate. I’m just gonna hang out until you’re done, right?” And he settled himself against the wall, legs outstretched in front of him and grinning up at a baffled Edwin. He would get that smooth-talking bastard to speak with him if he wanted to or not. An array of micro-expressions shot over Edwin’s face until he settled for a frown and turned with a huff, walking back to the middle of the studio.
And so they spent the next hour. Edwin didn’t even start the music again, simply going through his steps, muttering French vocabulary under his breath when he wasn’t simply counting a rhythm. And Charles watched him patiently, losing himself in the way Edwin’s voice smoothed out around the foreign vowels and continuous, even counting. It was a bit hypnotizing, to be honest. His clothing left his arms and most of his legs bare, so Charles could marvel freely at the slim lines of his body moving in perfectly poised precision. He remembered feeling those muscles under his hands, tracing the lines with his fingers.
Edwin Payne danced as if it was a personal challenge – ruthless movements, sharp like a scalpel and schooled to immaculate control. His face was more severe than Charles had ever seen it – not in irritation but in unshakable discipline. And yet, it still looked so effortless, as if his body was merely bound to earth not by gravity but by choice – a choice easily revoked if flying was required.
Charles could’ve lost himself in watching Edwin completely – if it wasn’t for the incessant buzzing of the phone sitting on top of his bag. He glanced towards it, maybe hoping to catch a glimpse of the notification. But then he told himself not to be a jealous fucking prick and get his shit together.
Towards the end of the hour, Edwin circled back to the turns he had practiced when Charles had come in. Turning and counting – stopping short of thirty – turning and counting – stopping short of thirty-one – over and over again. Charles was getting a bit dizzy simply by watching him, but Edwin seemed to battle his own body by now. When he managed thirty-one turns, his laboured breathing sounded so much like sobbing. Charles was halfway off the floor, but Edwin just began again. After that, he fell back down to thirty, twenty-nine, twenty-eight …
“You should really take a break, mate.” Charles stood, walking slowly up to Edwin, whose chest was heaving by now, sweat curling his hair and beading on his forehead.
“I almost had it!” His voice was harsh but shaky, so Charles simply put his hands on his shoulders, ducking his head a bit to catch Edwin’s eye.
“Oi… It’s no use to anyone if you burn yourself out before the showcase. Niko’s depending on you, isn’t she?”
For a moment, Edwin looked like he wanted to protest, then he nodded. His face was carefully schooled, but Charles recognized the signs of distress in his wide eyes and while his skin was heated from the exertion, his face was concerningly pale. “That’s a good lad…”, Charles cooed with a grin, thumbs rubbing circles into Edwin’s tense shoulders. “Enough for today, innit? Take a break, love.”
Edwin’s breath hitched and he stared at him with careful eyes. Charles really wanted to kiss him, but the bloke looked like he would soon just keel over. “Come on, eat something.”
“We’re not allowed to–”
“If you leave a single crumb, I will get a broom myself. Now sit the fuck down, mate.”
Maybe it was something in Charles’ tone or maybe Edwin was even more exhausted than he looked, because he plopped himself on the studio floor without further protest as Charles got the food and his water bottle.
Settling down next to him, he watched carefully as Edwin first drained the bottle in big gulps. Afterwards, he freed his feet from the worn-out pointe shoes he had practiced in – they were visibly bruised and one toe was actually bleeding a bit. A few weeks ago, that probably would’ve freaked Charles out, but by now he knew this was pretty much a given during periods of hard practice. Once he had seen Edwin thread his fingers through the spaces between his toes and crack them in place, explaining how they tended to get inwardly misaligned.
Only after stretching out his feet for a moment did Edwin allow himself to dig into the food, a deep and content sigh growing in his chest at the first bite. As if it was an afterthought, he casually picked up his phone, checking his messages, and Charles tried his best not to be nosy. “So... what does Monty want from you?” He wasn’t very good at it.
Edwin just shrugged, his face not betraying anything. “He asked me some strange and overly specific things to make a birth chart for me. Apparently, there are several star signs and rising moons and such things that determine one’s personality and to understand them can be beneficial to any endeavours.”
Using astrology to flirt. Oldest trick in the book. “Niko said he’s a dancer too?”
“Oh, yes.” Edwin was still looking at his phone instead of him. “Studio trained, not at the Academy. It looks like we are going to audition for some of the same spots come spring.”
“Huh… okay.” A young man of polite society and an artist in Edwin’s field, potentially predestined to attend the same elite institutions he was headed for. Right. Charles was feeling very reasonable and calm about the whole concept.
Trying not to get any further into the topic of Monty, he asked: “So, what are you dancing for the showcase exactly?”
Finally, Edwin put his phone away, stuffing the rest of the falafel sandwich into his mouth and chewing, while riffling through his bag. He pulled out a pair of shiny, black satin pointe shoes and swallowed before answering. “Odile.”
Charles raised a brow at him. “Didn’t you say Swan Lake was fucking cliché for an audition piece?”
“I did.” Edwin glowered at him. “Actually, I was going to do a piece from Giselle and then bloody Natalie said I wouldn’t be able to handle the thirty-two fouettés en tournant anyway–”
“So now you are doing it just to show her off.”
With a frown, Edwin started to bend one of the shoes in his hands, pretty much cracking it in the middle – the sound that caused was way more violent than a shoe had any business making. “Yes! Because I know for a fact she bribed the music department to slow the tempo on her Odette variation and that’s just bloody unsportsman-like. Either way, it is only gaudy to do Swan Lake if you do it poorly. If done right, it is one of the most impressive feats of dance. And I intend to do it fucking right.”
Edwin’s dignified expression and haughty tone was simply hilarious, Charles had to laugh. “God, you are such a petty asshole, I fucking love–“ He caught himself.
They stared at each other for a breathless moment.
“–your attitude”, he ended lamely, and neither of them was quite impressed with this decision. Charles’ face burned. A good whack over his head with a tire-iron would be very appreciated right about now.
Graciously, Edwin let it slide and simply continued butchering his shoe, which Charles watched with both confused concern and odd fascination. “Well, I will still get to do Giselle since I am helping Niko with her pas de deux. Oh, I can’t wait for you to see it Charles, she makes such a lovely ghost.”
“Ominous, but okay.”
“Anyway, here I am now, breaking in fucking black pointe shoes for the aesthetics–“ He banged the shoe on the floor and it cracked loud enough to shatter right through Charles’ bones. “–one week before the showcase! Because I am a fool who is unable to say no to a bloody challenge from a woman who can’t even manage a renversé without looking like she’s dislocating her hip!”
“...is this about her being there when things escalated with David?”
The shoe was introduced to the floor once again – brutally so. “No!”
Charles snorted at him. “Oh, it so is.”
Fiercely, Edwin pointed the shoe at Charles as if to say you are next. “She insulted my mother’s diamonds. Which, where I come from, is basically the same as insulting one’s mother.”
“Yeah, sure that’s what this is about. Because you care so much about these things.”
Edwin huffed and proceeded to – by the looks of it – basically break the insole out of the shoe in his hands. “You simply can’t grasp the intricacies of a proper nemesis, Charles!”
He thought about Simon. And that Monty. Charles was pretty sure he did get the nemesis thing. He was also faintly aware that it was proper unfair to group those two together, even in the privacy of his mind. He didn’t care. “Are you working out your feelings or is it that just how you deal with pointe shoes?”, he asked instead of disclosing any of the bitterness festering in his brain.
“You have to break them or they will break you”, Edwin muttered in a way that sounded like he was quoting some ancient proverb. “I will also have to shave the edges of the soles and thread the points, but I don’t have my knife and needle with me right now.”
“Why don’t they sell them the way you need them?”
He shrugged, putting one shoe down and taking up the destruction of the other. “Why do you always have to bring a blood tribute before a pair of Dr. Martens fits you really well? Feet are very individual. And every dancer has different practices. Personally, I basically sew myself into my shoes before a performance, but not everybody does that. Thus, you need to break them in the way you like them. If you don’t, you can actually hurt yourself quite a lot, I’m afraid.”
“Sounds brutal.”
“Well, you are balancing your whole body weight on two toes, so…”
Charles shook his head as he watched Edwin bust up a pair of brand-new shoes probably worth more than his whole wardrobe. “Dancers are fucking maniacs. How come people think you are all so soft and proper when you are out here popping bloody blisters and sewing yourself into your shoes and shit?”
“The trick is to make the bleeding look effortless.”
“That might be the hottest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“Your fantasies scare me, Charles Rowland. Anyway, I actually wanted to ask you about something for the showcase.”
With raised brows, Charles watched Edwin toss the shoes aside and reach into his bag again to this time pull out something he only recognized on second glance as an eyeshadow palette. “Niko took me to Sephora today, to stock up on some stage cosmetics, so this is actually quite good timing. I was thinking of going with quite a dark look for the performance. Maybe something akin to what you were wearing at the ball, although probably a bit more pronounced even. Painting for the back rows and such. However, I’m afraid I don’t really know my way around makeup enough not to end up looking like a raccoon. So I thought maybe... you could help me with that?”
It was a wash of words, rattled down so quickly Charles could barely follow. The way Edwin looked at him was almost… sheepish? Like he was expecting Charles to laugh or mock him.
“Sure”, he said simply, taking the palette out of Edwin’s hands and considering it. It was some fancy brand he didn’t recognize but it included a black shadow and some other dark shades that would work well for the purpose. “Want me to show you how to do it, or do you first want to see how it would look? I can do your makeup now and you can see if you like it?”
Something like relief seemed to wash over Edwin’s face and he smiled. Charles realized it was the first genuine smile he had seen all evening from Edwin and it lifted some tension in his shoulders he hadn’t even been aware of. “I’d like that… if you’d do it for me. If that’s okay. Just… to see.”
“Of course it’s okay. You got brushes?”
Edwin handed him a new set of brushes from his bag and Charles fiddled the packaging open, considering the selection. “Yeah, that should work, shouldn’t it? Now, come here.”
Edwin scooted over, leaving a bit of room between them.
Charles smiled crookedly. “Closer.”
Edwin inched forward until their knees brushed.
He grinned. “Closer.”
“Dear god.” With an eyeroll, a sigh and one smooth motion, Edwin climbed into his lap then, simply straddling Charles like it was nothing. Slack-jawed and wide-eyed, he could only stare at Edwin. Of course, this was by far not the first time Charles had held him in his lap, but… this was a very different position.
“Close enough, Charles?” Edwin asked, raising a challenging brow.
His mouth snapped shut and he nodded, fumbling with the brushes in his hands to pick one. “Right, um… close your eyes then, will ya’?”
Despite his instructions, he felt Edwin’s eyes on him with curious intensity as he dipped the brush into the palette. Then there was a hand on his chin, tilting it up so he had to look at Edwin who was now brushing gentle fingers over his cheek. “You need to shave”, he muttered, and it was such a simple thing to say it made something in Charles ache. Because that was what people said to you when they were up close and knew your face so well and in his head it conjured images of a lazy morning and tea and those soft hands. You need to shave. It felt like something adults said to each other.
“Barely. Don’t like the stubble?”
“It’s scratchy.”
“Mh... wonder why that would bother you.”
Edwin’s ears turned a blushing pink. “Well, if I have to kiss you...”
Charles leveled him with a suggestive grin. “You have to, do you?”
Quickly, Edwin’s gaze flitted to his lips and back to his eyes. “...I do.”
With heat slowly rising beneath his collar, Charles cleared his throat, trying to get things back to safer territory – because he was not supposed to be flirting. Crystal had warned him to talk things out before diving into them head first again. “Well… gonna shave tomorrow, promise. Now, eyes shut, I said.”
Finally, Edwin followed his request and for a while, Charles just enjoyed the soothing act of blending the pigment on Edwin’s closed lids. Since Edwin couldn’t see him as he worked, Charles had the rare opportunity to look his fill. To study high cheekbones, strong brows, curved lips, long lashes... Gently, he could cradle Edwin’s face in his fingertips, turn it to his liking so he could see every angle. God, he was beautiful. The eyeshadow stood in stark contrast to his pale skin and it was a bit harder to blend it in a way that wouldn’t look gray or smudgy. But maybe that was why Charles was kind of losing his mind about it. About picture-perfect Edwin Payne looking just a tad untidy, sitting in his lap with shoulders still a bit shiny with sweat and hair tousled from practice. He looked so human and so ethereal, compliant and trusting in letting Charles handle him however he pleased.
And then Edwin’s hips moved. Tilting just a fraction. Could’ve been an accident. A coincidence. Just a little adjustment. If Edwin hadn’t opened his eyes to hold his gaze with a hint of defiance. Charles couldn’t remember how to breathe. Then it happened again and he had to press his lips closed to keep in a surprised sound. It wasn’t even the whisper of friction between them that scrambled his mind into an incoherent jumble of want, but the very fact that Edwin was acting on his own accord and with damn near petulant confidence.
“Focus, Charles.” Edwin’s voice was clear as day, not a single breath betraying his intentions.
Internally, Charles fell over himself to get his fucking shit together. Externally he simply nodded, proceeding to work on Edwin’s makeup as soon as his eyes closed again. For some very quiet moments, Charles was left alone with the challenge of carefully blending a smokey eye while the occasional shift on his lap – just the slightest arch of Edwin’s back, a minute press of his thighs, the most casual roll of his hips – did horrible things to his concentration. He tried to think of decidedly unappealing things, but that was a futile endeavour, as that beautiful boy was playing games with him. Naturally, Edwin Payne would do nothing as simple or undignified as grinding on someone. It had to be the mere implication of some unnamed desire expressed solely in the margins. Just a delicate insinuation of want. Charles was burning.
“I–” He cleared his throat, his voice was way too rough. “I think that’s good. You wanna see?”
Edwin opened his eyes and took the palette Charles held out for him to look at himself in the smudged mirror. With a pleased smile, he handed it back to him. “I love it. Do you think it suits me?”
It suited him perfectly. Framed by the dark shadow, his eyes were seafoam-green and just as deep. Charles simply nodded, pressing a “Mhm…” through his lips, because Edwin blinked at him with so much mirth. The fucker was having way too much fun.
Quickly wetting his dry lips with his tongue – he was pretty sure Edwin’s eyes followed the movement – he looked back at the palette in his hands, putting the eyeshadow brush to the side. “You know what could also look really mint?”
Carefully he rubbed his pointer finger over the black shadow before bringing it up to Edwin’s face and pressing it to lips that parted slightly with a quiet gasp of surprise. With two fingerprints, he filled in the cupid’s bow in a heart shape, before he smudged the rest of the pigment on Edwin’s bottom lip with his thumb. It was a bit messy and rough but Charles was quickly learning some things about himself on the floor of this bloody dance studio – apparently he liked Edwin a bit messy. His thumb lingered too long and as he put careful pressure on the soft bottom lip it was resting on, Edwin opened his mouth just wide enough for the fingertip to slip past. Breathlessly, they held each other’s gaze, even as Charles lowered his hand.
He only registered the low buzzing sound starting up again when Edwin broke eye contact and reached for his phone. Incredulously, Charles stared as Edwin began to shamelessly text again while not even moving an inch from his position. A new heat he didn’t quite like about himself rose in Charles. This simply wouldn’t do.
So with a quick motion, he moved up to his knees, letting Edwin tumble off him with an undignified squawk, the back of his head safely cradled by Charles’ palm. Settling Edwin down, Charles placed his hand on the floor, hovering over him, Edwin’s knees falling open to either side of him.
“Oi...” He glanced at the phone in Edwin’s hand that had landed somewhere above his head, while the boy just stared at him in wide-eyed surprise. “Now, I won’t tell you who you can and can’t talk to. That’s not my business and I don’t want it to be my business, do I? But let’s make a deal: No texting other blokes while sitting on me. You good with that, sweetness?”
With a rosy tint to his cheeks, Edwin nodded. “Of course.” He blinked up at him, tilting his head, holding up the phone. “Does that mean I can keep texting now that I’m not sitting on you anymore, or...”
Charles’ laugh was rough as he shook his head at the impertinence. “How about: No texting other blokes while you got me between your legs, huh?” For emphasis, he placed his free hand on one of the knees cradling him.
The rosyness in Edwin’s face grew darker, but there was also a challenging glint in his eye. “Any other positions you’d like to include in this arrangement?”
Charles damn near choked on his own spit, but Edwin merely looked at him, all innocent big eyes and fluttering lashes. Bloody tease. “You are such a menace, do you know that? Fucking rude. Weren’t you, like, trained for polite society?”
“Surprisingly, polite society didn’t expect me to have a man between my legs”, Edwin quipped dryly. “I find myself wholly unprepared for this situation. You might have to give me a bit of etiquette training.”
“Not the student-teacher-roleplay I was imagining.”
“I will not call you Mr. Rowland.” With a sweet-as-sugar smile, Edwin put the phone to the side and reached a hand up to caress Charles’ cheek. “But still, I am sorry for being rude. Will you ever forgive me?”
Something in Charles might be melting and it was quite embarrassing considering they were just joking as they usually did. “You know, one day you won’t be able to hustle me with the cute schtick anymore.”
“Well, you knew I was a bastard way before I ever tried the cute schtick on you, so I think my chances of it still working down the line are actually quite good.”
“I never had a chance, had I?”
Trying to cover the truth of his statement with a theatrical sigh, Charles let his gaze roam over Edwin lying underneath him. It was a fucking beautiful sight – even more so because Edwin seemingly had no intention of moving. Instead, he just watched Charles as Charles watched him – like he was very aware that he was currently being appreciated like a piece of art. Charles’ gaze snagged on Edwin’s pale throat – it was spotless and with a certain wistfulness he remembered it being covered in marks that spoke of stolen kisses in a dark bedroom.
With sudden clarity and an unexpected sting, he thought about the array of guests both at the Whickham brunch and the Diamond Ball, ignoring him and asking Edwin about bloody Hunter while Charles stood right there, glued to his side. Thought of Monty texting Edwin after meeting him explicitly as Charles’ boyfriend. His date for the evening. Charles was used to the disregard, to being invisible until he was loud enough to draw attention. But apparently, once Edwin Payne was introduced to the equation – as fraudulent of an equation as it was –, he wasn’t coping that well with the disrespect anymore. So he put his hand on Edwin’s neck, pressing a thumb to his chin just enough to tilt it back a bit so he could see the full, elegant stretch of his throat. Edwin let him without any resistance and the easy compliance shot a thrill down his spine. “I think we should revisit the hickeys again.”
Edwin blinked at him, face perfectly neutral, if a bit red. “Is that so?”
“Yeah... haven’t been ‘round in a while. Don’t want the folks to think we are fizzling out, do we?”
“Certainly not. Do go on then.”
That sense of relief that shuddered through Charles, as he carefully lowered himself to place his lips on Edwin’s throat, was familiar by now. He had felt it in that hallway. An elated release of anxiety, as if his body was holding on for dear life just to get to the next moment he could kiss Edwin Payne again.
Crystal would whack Charles over the head if she knew he was fooling around instead of speaking about the real thing. But wasn’t it fucking obvious? Edwin had started to entice him – undeniably on purpose. As far as Charles could reason right now, that meant he knew. They were on the same page. Right?
That train of thought quickly stopped in its tracks when he heard a beautiful sigh fall from Edwin’s lips and realized that he could feel his pulse quicken under his tongue. Charles would forever strive to kiss Edwin in any way that pleased that beautiful boy, but the brilliant thing about this very arrangement was that Edwin’ mouth wasn’t preoccupied and thus free to express his bliss in gasps and whines and moans and “Charles...”.
Heat rising from his stomach and into his chest, Charles realized that he was becoming quite familiar with the way Edwin’s skin tasted – enough to notice the salty residue of sweat left from his long training. Sucking and biting his way from under Edwin’s ear and down his throat, Charles could feel him squirm beneath him, knees pressing into his sides, body stretching and curving closer to him, seeking as many points of connection as possible. As he pulled the strap of Edwin’s vest off his shoulder to open up more space for him, it slid lower than expected and Charles had to pull it back up as not to be indecent. As if there was anything decent about writhing on the floor together. Edwin didn’t even seem to notice and as Charles sank his teeth into his shoulder – maybe not that gently – he was rewarded with fingers in his hair and his neck, holding him close.
For a moment he lost himself in that mellow, almost reverent touch as Edwin caressed his skin and whispered his name like it was a secret solely between the two of them. He turned his head a fraction to kiss those sweet fingers as he let his own hand slide over Edwin’s side, the hem of the unruly vest riding up to expose a sliver of his stomach. He wanted to tug it back into place again, but Edwin’s hand was quicker, tugging it up just a bit more so Charles could see the pronounced arch of his hip bones and up to his belly button. Deliberately slow, Charles let his fingerstips draw patterns on the newly exposed skin, feeling the muscles tighten underneath his touch.
Diving back into the crook of Edwin’s shoulder, he now placed his free hand firmly on the bare skin of his waist, just where it always rested, where he knew Edwin liked it by the way he eased into the touch each time. This time wasn’t an exception and it solidified a quiet thought Charles was barely brave enough to acknowledge – that they both craved a touch that spoke of belonging to someone. It was a manic thought and paired beautifully with Edwin drawing him ever closer and sighing into his ear, easily swayed to let Charles’ tongue spell his name into his skin …
“I wanna try something”, he muttered into Edwin’s shoulder. “Think you might like it.”
Edwin made a low sound, something along the lines of a “Huh?” and blinked at him as Charles drew back a bit, taking in the most breathtaking sight he had ever seen. Edwin was flushed down to his heaving chest, his lips slightly open, the tip of his tongue bright red against black shadow.
Carefully, slowly, waiting for Edwin to tell him no, Charles put a hand on his left knee that was still pressed to his hip. There was no resistance as he moved it to the side so he could slide his hand down to the edge of Edwin’s shorts, slowly moving it up just a bit to reveal the tender inside of his thigh. With liquid eyes Edwin stared at him, a shuddering breath escaping his lips as Charles’ fingertips grazed his skin there. “What are you...”
“You trust me, love?”
A shy nod. A shiver running through both of them. They weren’t playing tricks on each other anymore. “Of course I trust you, Charles.” He said it so plainly, like it was a truth universally acknowledged. Charles held eye-contact for a moment longer, keenly aware of his own hammering heart, before getting back to work. One hand gliding to the hollow of Edwin’s knee to hold him open and steady, he leaned down and tasted the soft skin. A tiny noise, something high and broken, seemed to get stuck in Edwin’s throat as Charles scratched his teeth over pale white swiftly blooming red.
He felt himself being lulled in the familiar scent of bergamotte, like Edwin had been brewed in Earl Grey – a certain corner of his mind that tended to zero in on the strangest of details, wondered if it was some type of fancy lotion since the perfume seemed to cling to Edwin’s whole body, blending with his sweat into something heady and deep.
Putting just a bit more pressure on his teeth, he felt a muscle twitch beneath his tongue. Accompanied by a downright mind-shattering moan, Edwin shifted like he was trying to close his knees, to squirm away from the feeling while instantly leaning back into it. Charles glanced up at him. He was staring at the ceiling, eyes wide and just as bright as his cheeks. He didn’t seem distressed. Mostly overwhelmed. “Want me to stop?”
Edwin’s breath hitched as he turned his attention to Charles. Slowly he shook his head, one hand reaching for him, fingers curling in Charles’ hair the way he liked to – by now Charles knew a few things Edwin liked and it thrilled him down to his core. And while Edwin didn’t put any weight behind the gesture, Charles obediently lowered his head and went back to get to know a new piece of Edwin Payne he could get his lips and hands and tongue and teeth on.
He was very much aware that he was indecently close to some other interesting parts. But that night at the Diamond Ball, during that kiss in a lonely hallway, he had decided that Edwin deserved to take things slow. Not in a celibacy way. But in a way that would honor every inch of that beautiful boy, just as he deserved it. Because he said things like His intimacy was more efficient rather than loving and He wasn’t always kind to me and I don’t have any experience with romantic intimacy that isn’t stunted by self-hatred. So as Charles did his best to kiss and bite and suck bruises and devotion into one thigh, his free hand was busy caressing the other, stroking gentle fingertips from the hem of Edwin’s shorts to his knee and back, listening to a symphony of broken noises as Edwin seemed to forget that they were doing this in a quite public building. Again.
For a moment Charles simply rested his lips against Edwin, letting his breath graze the skin where it was damp from his tongue. A sigh broke free from somewhere deep within Edwin’s chest and suddenly he hooked his unoccupied knee over Charles’ shoulder, heel digging into his back as if trying to pull him in closer. And it all would be so incredibly perfect...
If that fucking phone would just stop constantly buzzing right in his ear!
With a wholly unnecessary spike of anger, Charles shot up from between Edwin’s legs. The boy beneath him made a very confused sound in the back of his throat, just as Charles got his hands on the bloody thing and took the call without even looking at the screen. “Oi! Edwin’s busy, bruv. Busy shaggin’ his bloody boyfriend, actually. So take the goddamned hint and call back later, will ya’? Or maybe – wild suggestion – don’t try to slip into the DMs of someone who’s taken in the first place, you tiny, disrespectful son of a–”
“Charles Rowland? Is that you?” Oh... oh, that wasn’t a boy’s voice. In an instant, a shrill tirade flooded through the phone and with a wince, Charles held it out to Edwin, who gaped at him in shock.
“So, um... it’s your mum.”
One parental melt-down later, Charles was waiting in front of the locker rooms for Edwin, who took a quick ten-minute shower. He emerged dressed in a fluffy pink jumper that quite artfully complimented the rosyness of his ears that hadn’t changed back to their natural colour since he had to explain to his mother that Charles had only been joking about them having sex. His hair was still damp from the shower but already fluffing up around the edges. They looked at each other for a moment, something uncertain and heart-fluttering between them. Faintly, Charles wondered if Edwin could still feel a sting where his mouth had been.
Then there were steps coming down the hall and Edwin flinched, looking past Charles. He turned to see none other than Simon in a crossing corridor. “What’s that wanker still doing here?”
“Practicing, I guess”, Edwin muttered. “The music department is playing at the showcase. He’s been staying late the past few days too.”
Obviously, Edwin was aiming for an unbothered tone but it wasn’t that convincing. “That’s how you know about Natalie playing dirty, innit?”
He shrugged. “I think he’s trying to endear himself to me.”
“Mh... such a dear, isn’t he? Oi, Simon!” As soon as the boy turned, Charles flung a very rude gesture in his direction and grinned. “Scored on your turf, pal!”
“CHARLES!” Edwin hit him in the arm – more of a tap than an actual hit and Charles wouldn’t have been able to stop his grin either way.
“Harder, babe.”
“Oh my god!”
“Exactly what you said ten minutes ago.”
Amidst their squabbling, Simon left with an irritated huff, so Charles saw that as a win. Taking the bag out of Edwin’s hand, he escorted him out of the Academy building and towards the tube. “So, how do you wanna celebrate after the showcase? Get dinner with the girls or somethin’?”
Thoughtfully tilting his head, Edwin took a moment to consider this. “Maybe we should go to a club.”
“What?!” Aghast, he stared at Edwin who only blinked back at him in confusion.
“I thought you liked such things.”
“Yes... but you don’t, mate.”
Edwin shrugged, taking Charles’ arm, tugging himself against his side, as if it was the most natural thing in the world to him. “True, but I will have fun with you still. I might just need to go outside more often and catch my breath. Charles, you haven’t been knocked about by a gaggle of long-haired heathens in months. And you always liked that so much! You don’t have to stop doing something you enjoy because of me.”
A lovely warmth spread through Charles’ chest then, but he still wasn’t that convinced. “Look, that’s proper cute, but I really just want you to be comfortable, don’t I?”
Edwin smiled that sweet smile he knew very well was a nuke to Charles’ resolve. “Well, I dragged you to a horrendous ball and made you waltz with me. So now I thought you could go dancing with me the way you like it best.” There was no way Charles could’ve said no to this.
After that evening, Charles made a point of picking Edwin up from his late practices – at least until the showcase. He had to shuffle around some shifts at Amir’s and ditch one after-school training session with the football team, but he didn’t mind. The idea of Edwin being alone in the studio with that creep Simon sulking about the school was just too worrisome. While Edwin was quite confused about his insistence, Simon seemed to get the message – Charles hadn’t seen him after Tuesday night. He still came to escort Edwin home for the rest of the week. Maybe it was a bit selfish – he could sit there for the last hour and just watch him dance and after that, they were huddling close to a mirror in the locker rooms for makeup lessons. Edwin was actually getting pretty good at doing his own eyeshadow – a task he approached, like every other task too, with the deft precision and perfectionism of someone trying to unravel the mysteries of the universe. Or of the smokey eye. Same difference.
There hadn’t been another incident like the last time, but Charles could feel the memory fizzing in the air between them and maybe he spent way too much time staring at the trail of marks he had left down Edwin’s throat. To be quite honest, he felt a bit like a possessive bastard about it, but the visible reminder of their stolen intimacy sent hot thrills down his spine. He wanted to touch them, to let his fingers graze the darkened skin and connect the dots. Of course, he didn’t ask about the one’s on Edwin’s thigh – somehow that would’ve crossed some sort of line. Those lines were becoming increasingly arbitrary. Mouthing at the inside of Edwin’s thigh like a starving man was one thing – asking to see the evidence was completely different.
He did see them, however. As Edwin practiced his turns and the hem of his training shorts tugged up a bit when he bent the leg at the knee. A small collection of dark spots on pale skin, almost bruised. For a moment, even as want grew heavy in his stomach, Charles had worried about having been too rough. But then Edwin had sat down with him to drink some water and settled his hand on his thigh, just where the hickeys were hidden under fabric. They had caught each other’s eye and the warmth on Edwin’s cheeks had nothing to do with training. He didn’t even mention Monty Finch again.
Friday evening, after he had walked a nervously rambling Edwin safely to the tube and told him to “try and get some bloody sleep, mate – you’ll need all your strength tomorrow”, Charles returned home. Now, here’s something that would probably make him sound crazy if he ever said it out loud: He usually knew when something was off at home, even before opening the front door. It was a certain anxious electricity in the air. So as he approached the living room, maybe he didn’t know what was going on. But he knew it was something.
He came to a halt in the doorway and just took in the scene. There was his mum, sitting on the sofa, eyes red but empty – she often got like this when things were really bad. Wasn’t with them anymore until everything was over. And there was his dad, standing as he heard Charles approach. Last week’s The Sun clutched tightly in his hand – with Charles’ face unobscured and grinning as he held on to Edwin.
What followed was probably the worst fight in a long time – and it was a fight. Because somehow Charles had picked that very moment not to cower anymore. As his dad screamed at him, he screamed back. As he called him names, so did Charles. And as he threw the first punch– Maybe Charles could’ve hit him. He never hit back – maybe he should’ve. He wasn’t a kid anymore, he was teetering on the cusp of being a grown man, just as his father was about to be old. Charles could probably do some serious damage. Shut the old man up for once. But instead he dodged and that was almost just as bad.
An hour later, he was on the tube again – his old backpack over his shoulder, hastily stuffed with random clothes. He wasn’t hurt this time. He barely felt anything. There was only the voice of his dad ringing in his ears.
This is what you get from associating with–
A fucking embarrassment –
You think they won’t discard you like everything else, you useless–
I’m not paying for you to throw away your education by partying with those–
You think you can live under my roof and–
I’m not having a son who is a–
It was the right decision to leave. Because right at the end there his dad had said some particularly nasty things about Edwin and Charles had never been closer to hitting back than in that moment. At least this time he had enough of his bearings not to end up at the Payne’s house. When Crystal opened the door for him, he asked “Is Niko here?” and as she shook her head, light-headed relief flooded through him. There must’ve been something written on his face, because she looked at him carefully, eyes flitting over his body as if frantically looking for injuries, before tugging him inside. Sitting him down on the sofa, she vanished for a few minutes in the kitchen and came back with two steaming mugs of tea. Charles wrapped his fingers around his, only to realize how cold they were.
“What happened?”, Crystal asked after a while of him not saying anything.
So he told her. “Apparently one of his regulars had recognized me and brought the paper to the shop. Was probably trying for a laugh… dad didn’t think it was funny.”
Taking a sip of her tea, Crystal sighed deeply. “Fuck.”
“Yeah… fuck.” He glanced at her, embarrassment already itching at his neck before he even asked. “Can I… can I crash here? Like… for a few days? I… I don’t think I can go back there for a bit.”
“Of course you can stay.” It was that simple. It always was with Crystal.
Nodding, he kept his eyes locked on his mug, breathing in the aroma of white tea, rose and apricot. “Thanks. And, um… I’m sorry to ask that of you but… please don’t tell Niko, okay? Not yet. She’s gonna tell Edwin and …”
“You don’t want him to know.”
“He would think it’s his fault.”
“Well, it kinda is.”
“Crystal…”
“No!” She frowned at him, her face severe and tense. “He’s the one who got you into this whole mess in the first place!”
“He couldn’t have known…”
“Well, I don’t care. He’s responsible–”
“My father’s responsible …”
That shut her down quick. Charles didn’t hold her anger towards Edwin against her. Crystal was a fiercely protective friend and worried about him, so of course she was lashing out – he would too if things were the other way around. Hell… he probably would be a lot worse. However, it was still unfair to blame Edwin for any of this.
With a sigh she leaned back into the pillows, holding her tea close to her chest and watching him wih uncertain eyes. “Well… how are you feeling?”
Curiously numb about the whole situation, to be honest. Like he was watching someone else’s life crumble before him and not his own, completely detached. Which probably was a very unhealthy way to cope. “I … don’t know what to do, Crys”, he muttered instead. “Like… I think he actually kicked me out. I… don’t know if I can go back.”
“You don’t have to–”
“I’m not gonna go to uni.”
She blinked at him, surprised at the sudden shift in topic. “What do you mean?”
“He’s not gonna pay for my education any longer.” It was a sudden certainty he now spoke into truth. “I mean, school will be fine ‘til graduation, but…” His voice drifted off. He couldn’t quite finish that thought without ice closing up his throat.
“Well… there are still the ten-thousand pounds Edwin promised you.”
She might as well have slapped him. Slowly, Charles turned his head to stare at her but Crystal just looked back, defiant. It was a crass thing to bring up – but also the fucking truth. He needed that money now more than ever. With a rough sigh, he ran his hands over his face and through his hair. “Right… I’ve got a bit of money saved up from work… maybe I can… I dunno… find a cheap room somewhere until graduation. That’s like… half a year of scraping by somehow.”
“Hey…” Crystal sat up, leaning against his side. “don’t think about all of that right now. First feel your fucking feelings. You’ll have time for logical misery later, okay?”
He was barely listening to her, his mind already racing through the possibilities. “If I ditch cricket and football I can pick up more shifts at Amir’s until I find something that pays better …”
“Don’t you need sports to apply for scholarships?”
“Scholarships don’t mean shit if I can’t afford rent.”
“You know… you can stay as long as you want. Until graduation and even after that.”
“Crystal, I can’t–”
“NO!” He flinched at the force of that one word and Crystal was pressing her lips together, taking a deep breath before continuing. “No… you can. Seriously, Charles, just… get over yourself and your fucking pride. I know you don’t want to be a burden, you don’t want me to worry or shit. Well, tough luck, asshole! I’m your friend. And I’m always scared for you. You need to get out of this fucking house. And for once… for once, please just let me help you!”
One heartbeat later, her face crumbled and she was sobbing. The ice was closing in on his lungs as he reached for her hand. “Okay…”, he whispered, because there was no way in hell he would be able to say anything else. “Okay. I’ll stay.”
“Good”, she sniffed, furiously wiping at her tears with the sleeve of her oversized hoodie. “I’m gonna make up the guest bedroom for you.”
“Thanks, Crys. You’re the best.” With a huff, she allowed him to hug her tight. He always liked hugging Crystal so much, since she fit right underneath his chin and huddled herself up in his arms even when she was angry at him. Hugging Crystal felt like the word friend had taken on the form of a gesture.
“Text your mum”, she muttered into his chest. “Tell her where you are. And that she’s always welcome here too.”
That was the last straw. Finally, he was able to cry. As she held him close and let him sob on her shoulder, Charles was pretty sure he wouldn’t be alive by now if it hadn’t been for Crystal Palace.
The next day, Charles tried to pick up the pieces of himself he had left all over Crystal’s living room floor. Because she was the best, Crystal had woken up early to run out and get toiletries for him since he had been way too out of it to think about packing a bloody toothbrush the night before. So he showered with the fancy gel Crystal had picked out – the spiced, woodsy smell of it lulled him into a semblance of comfort. He brushed his teeth and used some of Crystal’s hair oil and pulled on the one pair of jeans he had brought and a clean flannel shirt. Glancing in the mirror, he almost looked like a person again.
In the kitchen, Crystal was waiting for him with a cup of chai – it wasn’t like his mother made it, but it was still pretty great and he kinda wanted to cry about it. But he pulled himself together as Crystal asked: “Want to ditch the showcase and stay in today?”
“Edwin and Niko–”
“Are adults who would totally understand you not being up for it.”
He simply shook his head. “I’m fine, Crystal, really. I want to go. We promised – this is a big deal for them. Don’t worry, okay? Maybe that’s just what I need today. To… I dunno, get my mind off things.”
Crystal didn’t seem that confident in his reassurance, but she dropped the topic anyway, which he was thankful for. They hung out on her couch and watched cartoons like children and ordered pizza until they had to leave for the Academy. Charles borrowed some of Crystal’s makeup as she got ready – in the bag of toiletries she had brought him, there had also been a black eyeliner (which, again, he kinda wanted to cry about, because apparently once the damn was broken it was hard to plug it up), but he also needed to cover the dark circles under his eyes that would instantly advertise the two hours of sleep he was running on.
On the way, Charles made them stop at a flower shop. Crystal picked out a pretty pink bouquet for Niko and he chose a single white rose for Edwin, because flowers were fucking expensive and he didn’t want to ask Crystal for money.
By the time they arrived at the Academy it was already dark outside and the auditorium was filled with way more people than Charles had expected. On a gallery over-looking the auditorium, the music department was assembling their orchester. The stage was still hidden by heavy blue velvet curtains. There were rows and rows of seats quickly filling up with folks in evening dress. Instantly, Charles felt underdressed and sheepish about it. He should’ve at least put on the suit jacket Edwin had gotten him, instead of his old patched-up one.
Crystal took his arm and steered him through a side door, down a narrow hallway and through another door into the black void of tulle and shuffling shoes that was the backstage area. They wandered around a bit aimlessly until they caught sight of Niko sitting in a folding chair in front of a lit mirror to do her stage makeup. In its current form, it basically looked like she was covering her whole body in white powder. She smiled brightly at them, hugging Crystal tight and getting white residue all over her coat. “You guys, it’s so good to see you!” As she marveled at the flowers Crystal presented to her, Charles let his gaze wander in search of Edwin, who materialised only a moment later from behind some black curtains dividing the backstage area into sections.
Seeing him lifted an uncertain weight off Charles’ chest and suddenly he could breathe freely again. Edwin was already in costume – simple black leggings and a black vest Niko had furiously studded with feathers along the shoulders, fanning out just a bit, nodding to the idea of wings. As he caught sight of Charles, he smiled. And everything was fine again.
“You are not supposed to be here”, Edwin chided as he walked up to him in lieu of a greeting.
“I’m not supposed to do a lot of things and somehow that never stops me”, Charles quipped. With only a moment’s hesitation, he held out the rose. “Is it inappropriate to tell a dancer to ‘break a leg’?”
With open surprise, Edwin blinked at the flower for a solid ten seconds before taking it. His smile turned almost shy. “I think it is tradition, actually.”
“You nervous?”
“Terrified.”
“You’re gonna do great. I’ve seen you dance, you are amazing.” The last part came out like a whisper – like a confession.
Edwin simply shrugged, although he obviously seemed pleased with the praise. “Well, you have to say that, you’re my–” They stared at each other.
Before either one of them could find a way to get the conversation back on track, a woman with the most severe red hair-do and most hateful face Charles had ever seen, stomped their way. “Payne! Sasaki! Don’t you have better things to do with your time than to chit-chat? No visitors backstage!”, she scolded in a thick Scottish accent, her eyes turning on Charles as if his presence was especially offensive to her.
“I am sorry, Madame Night.” Edwin graciously inclined his head to her. “They were just leaving.”
“Were we?”, Charles asked, but the woman glowered at him like he had clobbered her over the head with something heavy. “We were”, he concluded, and they quickly said their goodbyes to Edwin and Niko.
In the hallway, Crystal parted ways with him to go to the bathroom, which left Charles alone to find them seats in the auditorium. Letting his eyes roam over the rows, he was surprised to see someone waving at him – Mrs. Payne. Frowning, he glanced over his shoulder, but didn’t see anyone she could be looking at besides him. As he turned back, she was still waving him over towards her. Slowly, he approached the fourth row from the front where she had occupied two other seats with her coat and handbag respectively.
“Good to see you, Charles”, she said primly and lifted the coat off the seat directly next to her, gesturing for him to sit. And since he was so baffled, he did. “Edwin mentioned you and Crystal were coming to this. I thought I’d save you a seat.”
“Um… thanks. I thought… Edwin said you weren’t into these things.”
She pursed her lips, her tone becoming a bit haughty. “Well, it never seemed like he appreciated my attendance.” God, that family was hopeless.
For a while, they just sat next to each other in vaguely uncomfortable silence as the surrounding rows filled to the brim and the orchester behind them was noisily tuning their instruments. Then Mrs. Payne sighed and as she began to talk, her gaze was firmly set on the closed stage-curtains. “Edwin once told me you were a kind person.”
“Did he now?”
She nodded, jaw tense. “I hope this assessment was accurate and we can both find common ground on wanting only what’s best for Edwin.”
Charles hesitated. He wasn’t sure where this was going, but there was a tension in the air that rattled his oversensitive alarm bells. “I guess so.”
“Good. Then you might understand this, when I say… I know boys like you, Charles.”
He couldn’t suppress a snort. “I highly doubt that.”
“Oh, you would be surprised.” She chuckled – a bit dry, a bit melancholy, a whole lot unlike her. “When I was your age I had a boyfriend who was a lot like you. He fancied himself quite the rebel. Well... back then we all did.” Charles glanced at her and was surprised to see a certain wistfulness in her eyes and the mere suggestion of a smile at the corner of her mouth. Her hands were fidgeting in that way that reminded Charles so much of Edwin. “You’re all ideological and brave when you’re young. Don’t worry… it will pass. At least for most people. I grew out of it and he didn’t. He just got himself deeper into trouble.”
“So you dumped him?”
She laughed – it was a sad laugh and probably the only one she could manage. “I actually wanted to marry him, if you can believe it. Although back then we were very much raging against the institution of marriage. Still … I thought we would be together forever.” She took a deep breath, cooling her features into smooth sternness once again. “But it was foolish. A young girl’s fantasy of rebellion and being swept off your feet by a boy who has a bit of the devil to him. Boys like that – boys like you, and I am not sorry to say it – only bring trouble.”
“I’m also proficient in tomfoolery.”
“And they drag everyone down with them.”
There was a beat of silence in which Charles couldn’t even begin to form an answer. Streams of anger, embarrassment and fear met within him to create a perfect storm. He was so tired – he had just lost his home – was outed to his violently homophobic dad – probably lost his future… and here that incessantly beige woman was telling him he was trouble. When his throat was finally free again to breath and his mouth could form words, they weren’t kind: “So you threw away the things you believed in and the guy you loved, so you could marry some boring-ass lawyer your parents picked out for you. And now you want your son to be just as miserable as you, do you?”
“I am not miserable”, she pressed through her teeth, gaze swiftly flitting towards him and back to the curtains again. “I have a safe, comfortable and privileged life. And so does my son. Edwin has everything he could ever want – a great education, the option to follow his dreams because he has true talent. That is what I want for him. That and the opportunity to give this privilege to his own children one day. Not to throw away everything for a charming boy who has only brought problems to the relationship. Do you even realize what a stunt like the one you two pulled at the Deamon’s Benefit could do to his reputation, to his career?”
He could tell her that this ‘stunt’ had nothing to do with him, but she probably wouldn’t even hear it. So instead he asked the real question: “What about his fucking happiness? Have you ever thought about that, even for a second, while devising your grand plan for his future?”
She sighed, closing her eyes for a moment, folding her hand in her lap like her son often did when trying to regain control of a conversation. “Don’t get me wrong, Charles... I see how happy he is with you. And it is nice to see. The last two years it felt... like I lost my son to that horrible boy he was with. I was so relieved when they ended things.”
Charles scoffed at her. That certainly was one way to put it. But his attention snagged on something different. Two years? “Well, you are doing a shitty job at keeping him happy, aren’t you? How would you feel if someone you love slapped a fucking price tag on you?”
She frowned, now finally turning her head to look at him, but the moment she opened her mouth to answer, the lights dimmed in the auditorium and the curtains opened. Crystal just made it to her seat before the first group waltzed onto the stage, eyes flitting between him and Mrs. Payne. She shot Charles a questioning look, but he only shook his head. He was still seething by the time a bunch of sugarplum fairies had traipsed over the stage.
It took over an hour for the graduating class to come on and when it was finally time for Edwin’s solo, Mrs. Payne leaned forward in her seat and whispered: “Just look at him”. And Charles did.
By now he had seen Edwin dance the same routine over and over – but on stage it was a whole different thing. With barely a sound to disturb the music, he flew across the stage in forceful movements as if gravity was a simple suggestion to him. His face was perfectly calm, the makeup creating a sense of darkness that was no antithesis to his dance but rather a peek behind a curtain. There was a cocky smirk on his dark tinted lips and Charles knew it wasn’t acting. This was the bloody brilliant bastard he knew – the one who schemed and teased and wielded his words like blades. A boy who has a bit of the devil to him. How ironic people thought Charles was the troublemaker.
Breathless, he counted in his head as Edwin started in on the fouettés. Twenty-nine – thirty – thirty-one – a perfect thirty-two. He almost whooped in excitement and pride, only suppressing the impulse by grabbing Crystal’s arm and shaking her. The whole thing was over quite quickly – endless hours of training and fretting culminated in a minute and a half of utter perfection. As the rest of the audience sent Edwin off stage with polite applause, Charles couldn’t hold his cheering. Edwin glanced in his direction with a smile, before he vanished behind the curtain.
Fifteen minutes later, he returned with Niko in tow – now with most of the makeup gone and wearing a flowy shirt instead of the Odile vest. Niko herself was dressed in a white bodice and calf-length tulle skirt, with a veil over her head she only shed once the music began. When dancing with Niko, Edwin suddenly held a very different presence on stage. Before, he had been a radical force – now he was a melancholic lover, reaching out for the mere memory of the girl he once held dear. He halfway vanished into the stage itself, as if his performance was a simple backdrop for Niko – the beautiful wraith Giselle – to shine. And did she ever shine. If Edwin was flying, Niko was floating. From the corner of his eye, Charles could see the way Crystal stared at her girlfriend, eyes bright and glassy and so full of adoration, it made something in his heart clench.
Mrs. Payne didn’t stay to congratulate her son, so it fell to Charles and Crystal to crush their friends in hugs and cheer for their success. With a smile as bright as the stage lights, Crystal kissed Niko on the lips and on both cheeks and on her forehead, making the girl giggle. “That was amazing! You are amazing.”
As the girls blissfully cooed at each other, Charles drew Edwin close to his side. “Honestly, mate… Those scouts are gonna brawl for you.” Edwin shook his head at him, but his grin was wider and more brilliant than Charles had ever seen it before.
On their way to the club Crystal had picked out for them – actually the very club Charles had met Edwin in (he tried not to have feelings about that) – they visited old Frank’s Fish ‘n Chips. The dancers had been keeping a strict diet for the past few days before the showcase, so now they deserved all the fried food in the world.
As they entered the dark club, music pounding in the air and neon lights flashing, Charles couldn’t help but stare at Edwin. Only a few months ago, he had met that shy, reserved, proper little gentleman in his vest and bow-tie. How was that the same guy now leaning into his side, hair tousled, black shadow still smudged around his eyes and lips, smiling as he entered a place he had been so uncomfortable in before?
The girls instantly broke off towards the bar, and Charles had just enough time to throw his jacket in the general direction of a group of cracked leather armchairs nearby, before Edwin caught his elbow and dragged him to the dance floor.
Time always seemed so fluid in places like these – and even more so when one danced with Edwin Payne. He seemed to have his own gravitational pull, keeping Charles close. Automatically, his hands found purchase on Edwin’s waist, his back, his hips – heat pounding between them as they pressed closer to each other. Every hour or so, Edwin drifted away from him to go outside with Niko for a little break and Charles was free to throw himself into the mosh-pit that gathered in front of the raised DJ set up or dance with Crystal. But then, like the ethereal beings they had portrayed in their dances, Niko and Edwin would return and pull the two of them back into their arms.
For the first time since arriving at his house the evening prior, Charles felt genuinely, deliriously happy. Because beautiful, beautiful Edwin was leaning back into his chest, their bodies aligning perfectly from thigh to shoulders and as they were swaying to the music and Edwin rolled himself into Charles, he couldn’t stop his mouth from seeking the heat of Edwin’s neck. His hands slowly wandered from Edwin’s waist, down his hips and over his thighs, pressing him closer. With a sigh, Edwin let his head fall back on Charles’ shoulder, turning it just a bit, so soft lips could graze his jaw. They were burning into each other and Charles wanted nothing more than to rush into the flames, to turn Edwin around and kiss him properly, like he ought to. But there was a very different heat inside of him too, battling towards the forefront of his mind, turning his grip hard against Edwin’s soft skin.
They might reconsider the best when I show them what would be the worst.
Can you believe it? Hanging out with some pleb working in a dirty shop.
I don’t care what kind of trouble you have gotten yourself into. But you better not drag my son into it.
Payne’s date for the evening.
You think they won’t discard you like everything else?
Boys like you drag everyone down with them.
Edwin nearly stumbled as Charles took a step back, steadying him with careful hands on his shoulders. To answer his questioning look, Charles pantomimed puffing a cigarette like gotta get some fresh air and turned Edwin back towards the girls, quickly making his way through the crowd to hopefully avoid being followed. His body and most of his mind screamed at him to fucking get in there and snog the living hell out of that boy who basically presented himself on a silver platter for him. But he knew it wasn’t right. Edwin deserved better than a quick shag in a club toilet. He deserved way better than anything Charles could ever give him.
Making his way toward the back of the club, narrowly avoiding getting swept into the mosh pit at the center of the dance floor and dodging the occasional rotating limb, Charles felt his head spin in undefined and uncharted directions. He pushed out a side door into the alley frequented by smokers huddling together in small groups of puffed companionship. He tried to take deep breaths of the nicotine-tinged night air to clear his head before going completely off the rails. Walked down the ally, he stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jeans. It was bloody freezing, but the cold seemed quite welcome to his current mood, so he leaned his back against the brick wall of the club. Looking up at the sky, at the full moon and twinkling stars, his eyes stung.
Because he was deeply, embarrassingly, fucking manically in love with Edwin Payne.
And it was never going to work.
As ridiculous as the Payne’s insistence on Edwin thinking about his future had seemed to him... they weren’t kids anymore, were they? Not as they used to be. If Charles could have delirious, sunlit visions of being with Edwin while he kissed him, he should be able to have a proper fucking conversation about his feelings. Their feelings for each other. Because he was pretty sure Edwin was on the same page as him. They just needed to hash things out. Like adults.
But if Charles wanted to be an adult... he also had to be fucking realistic too. In the long run, what would picture perfect Edwin Payne, top of the elite in any way that mattered, have in common with a fuck up like him? A bloke who was only good enough to take some whacks during cricket or kick a ball in the general direction of a net. Who got booted out of his home by the father he had inherited his bad bloody temper from – a temper that made him jealous and clingy and way too much, all the time. And who would probably be stuck working in a dingy grocery store for the rest of his life.
Hot tears were burning in his eyes and he just blinked them away, when the distinct odor of Axe bodyspray hailed the arrival of none other than Thomas King – just the wanker he needed now.
“Rowland! Long time no see.” With his signature Cheshire Cat grin, he leaned against the cool stone wall next to Charles, offering him a cigarette he usually declined nowadays. Not today. He put it between his lips, leaning in to let Thomas light it for him and took a deep drag, holding it in his lungs for a moment – he used to make a game out of it, see how long he could go – and then breathing it out through his nose. Fresh air, indeed.
“You and the ballerina look quite cozy.” Thomas commented, lighting one for himself, hand cupped around the flame to shelter it. That night he was wearing a leather skirt and a tight mesh turtleneck that showed off his chest-tattoo of a black cat with a crown on its head. “You wound me, Rowland. He was the love of my life.”
Charles scoffed at him. “Love of your wet dreams, more likely.”
“Same difference.”
Shaking his head, Charles watched the smoke curl up from between his fingers. “Don’t worry, Thomas, you can still shoot your shot. We are not dating. Just hanging out.”
He had tried for a casual sort of tone, but the way Thomas looked at him, he obviously didn’t believe a single word. “So you’re not fucking him?”
“No”, Charles gritted through his teeth. He felt a certain bitterness rising in his throat and it had nothing to do with the nicotine. He flicked the ash off his cigarette, watching it glow and extinguish on the asphalt below. “Hookin’ up here and there. Nothing serious.” It wasn’t quite clear if he was trying to convince Thomas or himself. Because god, was it serious to him. But it really shouldn’t be. “Don’t get me wrong, he is so prim and proper, I wouldn’t mind getting some grime on his perfection. But he’s just slummin’ it with me for a while to freak out his parents. He’s gonna return to that bloody beautiful world of his soon enough.”
Thomas raised a brow at him, deeply unimpressed. “Well, don’t you sound like the love interest of a 2000s dance movie.”
“Are you calling me Channing Tatum?”
“If the oversized jeans fit…”
Charles stopped himself from answering (probably with something quite rude) when Edwin turned the corner. He must’ve come from the main entrance and circled around, looking for him. With a strange sense a growling hunger deep in his gut, Charles noticed that Edwin had put on his patched-up jacket against the autumn chill swiftly turning winter. He spotted Charles and walked over with a tight smile for Thomas. “The girls want to leave.”
“Aces. Let’s get outta here.”
Charles put out the fag in a nearby ashtray while Thomas let his gaze roam over Edwin appreciatively. “You look delicious, ballet-boy.”
Edwin’s cheeks grew pink and Charles grew irritated. He put his arm around Edwin’s waist, drawing him close. Sure – nothing serious. “See you around, Thomas.” And he dragged Edwin off with him to meet up with Crystal and Niko.
They dropped off the girls at Crystal’s and Charles insisted on walking Edwin home. He also insisted he keep on his jacket, despite Edwin’s protest, because it was warmer than the thin coat he had been wearing that was now slung over Charles’ arm. They were barely saying a word to each other, but Charles couldn’t really grasp if the quiet was comfortable or awkward. He had pretty much fled from Edwin earlier and now he felt quite foolish about it. But Edwin didn’t scowl at him or seem tense. Simply quiet.
Then there was that blasted front door again. The one that always seemed to break the spell.
Edwin smiled at him – a little smile, careful. He was always so bloody careful. “Thank you for the evening, Charles. And for coming today. It… meant a lot. Good night.”
“Oi!” He snatched up Edwin’s wrist, as he quickly turned away from him. “Are you alright?”
Edwin looked at him, nodding only slightly. “Quite alright.”
“Are we meeting up tomorrow?”
“I’m afraid I have a lot of homework to catch up on – the showcase really put me off track.”
“Doesn’t matter to me. I have a lot of work too, don’t I? We could study together.” He hesitated for a second. Because he really shouldn’t say what he wanted to say. But Edwin’s face was only this neutral when something was off. When he needed reassurance or felt unsteady. And no matter what happened between them, Charles would always strive to give Edwin everything he needed. “I want to see you.”
Edwins face softened and he nodded again, this time with more conviction behind it. “Alright then. We can meet here, if you like.”
“Aces. We could go get some dinner afterwards. What do you say?”
“How about a visit to dear Dayita?”
Charles grinned brightly as a certain warmth filled the aching hollow of his chest where bitterness had dug its hole. “Brills.”
They said good night without another pretend kiss – neither a real one. But as Charles made his way back to Crystal’s place, he felt a bit lighter. This was different, right? Like they just made plans for an actual date. Maybe this was it.
Crystal was frowning at him, as she opened the door. “You know, you could’ve just stayed here to begin with and not go all the way back and forth.”
He shrugged, toeing off his shoes in the entryway. “Wanted to walk Edwin home, didn’t I?”
“Have the two of you finally talked? About anything?”, she asked roughly. She was already wearing her oversized sleep-shirt and flannel pyjama bottoms, her hair bundled up in a bright purple silk bonnet.
“No…”, he winced. “Not yet. But… we’re gonna meet up tomorrow. And then I’m gonna try and…” What was he going to try? Tell Edwin about his feelings? Hope he would feel the same? Get back on friendship terms so as to not derail things any more than they already were? “Niko’s already in bed?”
Crystal nodded, but her dark look was testament to her not appreciating him swerving the conversation. “She’s gonna notice you staying here.”
“That’s okay. I just didn’t want Edwin to worry before the showcase. It’s gonna be fine.” He had to tell himself that. It would all be fine.
The next day, Charles picked up two caramel chai lattes – they would be cold by the time he reached the Payne’s townhouse, but by now it was a simple pavlovian conviction to bring Edwin sugar whenever they met for a study session. However, when the door opened for him and he held up the to-go-cups in greeting, he was not met with Edwin’s smiling face – but with the stern, marble facade of Mr. Payne. “Charles. Good to have you here again.” He didn’t sound like it was good at all, only stepped aside to let him in, and as Charles did, a strange, heavy feeling was growing in the pit of his stomach. Here it was again. That anxious air he knew so well.
“Put those down for a moment.” Mr. Payne pointed to a side table and Mrs. Payne would probably get a heart attack if she saw Charles put the cups on the perfectly beige lacquered wood. “I would like to talk with you for a moment.”
“Actually, Edwin and I were going to study–”
“A moment.” His tone did not invite any further protest. So Charles followed him to his office.
This was it.
As he crossed the threshold, it was like entering a new dimension. One of dark wood and leather chairs and heavy antique bookshelves laden with legal texts and diplomas lining the walls. The office had a very different vibe from the rest of the house and maybe Charles was projecting, but it felt – oppressive. Heavy. Institutional. Like the headmaster’s office at school, which Charles was quite familiar with.
Mr. Payne closed the door and gestured towards a chair in front of his desk – Charles didn’t follow the offer, so neither of them sat down. They simply stood in the office, staring at each other. Sizing each other up. Probably coming to the same conclusion: What a prick.
“Charles”, Mr. Payne finally broke the silence, his fingers tapping on the shined surface of his desk. “I understand you’ve been dating my son for, what – a month?”
“Almost two”, Charles answered. His voice was hollow. He couldn’t really muster up the bravado act anymore.
“Is that so… well, I appreciate you keeping Edwin company – I know he can be difficult. However, you are not the sort of young man I like to see my son spend time with.”
“And why is that?” Say the quiet part out loud, fucker.
With a sigh, Mr. Payne looked Charles up and down like he was a particularly disappointing horse at the racetrack. “Now, don’t be slow, young man. I know there must be some semblance of intellect behind your vapid persona. Why else would you pick someone like Edwin?”
“I don’t like what you are implying, pal.”
“I’m not implying anything. Let us not forget that you are frequently commenting on our financial situation. During our dreadful acquaintance, you have been nothing but disrespectful, crass and downright inappropriate with my son, not only in front of me, but also in front of my business partners and important members of society.” The way his tone cut sharp and deep at the end was enough to reveal what Mr. Payne was actually upset about. “And now my son is in the bloody tabloids after assaulting someone!”
“He kicked a homophobic asshole in the nuts, man. You should be proud of him.”
Mr. Payne scowled, tugging at his cuffs to straighten them out even more – like the mere suggestion of a wrinkle might be an affront to him as a person. “Edwin has been out of control since the day you stepped foot into my house.”
Charles couldn’t keep down his incredulous laugh. “That’s what this is all about, innit? You controlling Edwin.”
Mr. Payne didn’t even blink at the accusation, didn’t comment. Instead, he circled around his desk to open a drawer and took out a leather-bound booklet, opening it up on the desk to reveal a check-form. “I am not an unreasonable man, Charles. I am sure you’ve promised yourself a lot from this relationship, so I am prepared to help you along the way to ending it. Shall we say five-thousand pounds?”
Open-mouthed, Charles stared at him. Of course, he had known this was coming – of course, he had believed Edwin when he had told him about his father buying off Simon. But the reality of the situation was still so much more bizarre, so incredibly ridiculous… it simply didn’t compute.
“Well, son?” Mr. Payne looked at him expectantly, taking up a pen that had been resting on a neat stack of manila folders.
Of course, Charles knew what he should do. Stick to the plan. Get that ridiculous amount of blood money to finally, finally move out from under his father’s thumb. He didn’t even know when he could go back home. If he could go back. But in that moment, looking at Mr. Payne, ivory fountain pen hovering over his monogrammed check book, at his mahogany desk, in his navy suit... a pin dropped in Charles’ mind.
This was a man who fancied himself lord over his house and the people within it. A man disgusted by his own son. The very man who taught Edwin the manipulative business strategy their whole scheme was based on. And Charles knew then...
This man. Simply. Wouldn’t. Stop.
Not because some boys weren’t good enough for Edwin – but because as long as they were boys, Edwin would never be good enough for him.
Before Charles could stop himself, the words were rushing out. “You are a bloody sociopath, aren’t you?”
Mr. Payne bristled, clutching his pen in irritation. “Excuse me?”
“You are bribing someone to hurt your son’s feelings, mate. How the fuck can you live with yourself?”
As Charles watched in absolute incredulity, Mr. Payne’s face darkened, his jaw clenching in a way that was a bit too similar to Edwin whenever he steeled himself against attack. And just like his son, his tone was perfectly even and calm, while conveying a magnanimous force of pure contempt. “I only want what is best for my son.”
“Well, you are doing a pretty shit job, mate! And I’m not being a part of this.”
“How about we adjust the sum?”
The anger brewing in Charles’ stomach finally flared, white-hot and burning. “Keep your fucking money and shove it up your rear, pal! The giant stick you keep up there will smooth the way, I’m sure.”
Before Mr. Payne could react, Charles stomped out of the office and threw the door closed behind him with a loud thud.
“Charles?” It was Mrs. Payne, coming out of the drawing room, probably to see what all the commotion was about. She frowned, glancing from him to the office door. “Is everything alright?”
“You know, you and your fucking husband deserve each other”, he gritted through his teeth, rage turning his words to weapons. “Playing bloody mind games and using your power and influence to hurt your own son. Seriously, you people make me sick.”
“What are you–”
He brushed right past her and up the stairs. As he entered Edwin’s room without even knocking, he was still seething and he hated that. He didn’t want to be around Edwin when he was angry – or rather, he didn’t want Edwin around him when he was angry. But he couldn’t quite get a grip yet, so he closed the door with way more emphasis than necessary or appropriate, making Edwin jump at his desk. He blinked at him, giving a mild “Hello, Charles”.
“I’m gonna kill your dad.”
Edwin tilted his head to the side, curious, and Charles tried to keep his eyes on him and breath rather than pace a hole in the floor. He wore a lilac jumper with a lace collar today and it was so fucking cute. Charles should focus on that. “Might make things a bit awkward on Christmas, but I can deal.”
“You can visit me in jail. I’m gonna get all buff and tattoo your name on my forehead”, Charles muttered as he stomped over to the bed to throw himself on it. He rather glared at the ceiling than at Edwin.
“Be still my beating heart. Any particular reason you are considering murder or are you simply in a silly, homicidal mood?”
Charles huffed out a decidedly dry laugh. “Your dad borderline dragged me into his office. Offered me fucking five-thousand pound to break up with you!”
“Oh…” There was a certain flatness to Edwin’s tone that immediately rang the alarm bells in Charles’ head. “It– it seems my value has significantly decreased. How interesting… or maybe he simply thought you would be bought off for less than Simon. I am very sorry, Charles. I will find a way to get you the rest.”
With a start, Charles sat up straight, trying to catch Edwin’s gaze, but he didn’t even look at him. Instead, he was considering his own fists, clenching against each other. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“The other half of the ten-thousand pounds I promised you?”
“I–” It hit Charles like a load of bricks then. “Mate… I didn’t take the money.”
Edwin’s head snapped up and in an instant his eyes were aflame with irritation. “You didn’t take the money? That is so bloody stupid, what came over you?!”
“I... I just couldn’t”, Charles stuttered, taken aback by Edwin’s sudden anger. “I’m sorry.” What the fuck was he apologizing for?
“You are sorry?” Edwin stood and began pacing through his room, avoiding Charles’ eyes again. “This is your benefit of the bargain, Charles! The whole reason you let me drag you into this! The reason you went through all this trouble and hostility and bullshit. How could you refuse the money? We had a plan!”
Despite himself, Charles’ anger spiked again, causing him to stand and intersect Edwin’s pacing, grabbing him by the shoulders. He still wasn’t looking at him. “I just couldn’t do it, alright? Because it’s bloody insane! Think they will leave you to make your own decisions just because you had a little rebellion, do you? They want to control you! And it won’t change if they keep getting away with it. It will only get worse.”
Edwin was shaking his head, he barely seemed to listen to Charles. “This isn’t right.” With a downright pained expression, he closed his eyes, rubbing a hand over his forehead, muttering beneath his breath: “Let me think… just let me… we shall cook up a ruse that is so outrageous they will have no other choice but to offer you more.”
Exasperation rose within Charles, crawling up alongside the fury, barely covering the thorns of dread piercing into him. “Edwin, I don’t want their bloody money!”
“Well, what do you want then!” Now he looked at him – face fierce and heated, and Charles realized with a start how glassy Edwin’s eyes had become. Like that night when Charles had come to him bloody and dizzy and angry. Don’t you care? “You take the money, you leave me, I am heartbroken. A deal is a deal.”
With a shuddering breath, Charles shook his head, his grip on Edwin tightening like he might slip away. “Fuck the deal! This isn’t just some silly scheme anymore, is it?”
A shutter fell down over Edwin’s face, wiping away any emotion, leaving behind a perfectly neutral mask – shutting Charles out. Like he did after their first kiss. Like he learned from his father. Ice cold panic was now burning through his veins, because Edwin certainly wouldn’t– “I don’t know what you are talking about.”
Taking a swift tire iron to Charles’ kneecaps would’ve been way more gentle than Edwin’s tone. He let his hands fall away from him and took a step back. “You don’t?” He couldn’t help the incredulous laugh that escaped him. “So this whole thing was just in my mind then, was it?”
“Charles, don’t be ridiculous.”
“Don’t call me ridiculous just because you... you what? You’re afraid this could be real?” Oh no. His voice got louder. Was he hurt? Was he angry? Was it the same? “You’re a bloody coward!”
Edwin’s eyes caught his, fierce and burning behind his even expression. “Surely I don’t know what you mean.”
“It means you are so fucking hurt still, you can’t even fathom getting into anything real. I’m not Simon–”
“Of course you are not.”
Charles was surging forward again, reaching for Edwin’s hands – because this wasn’t the Edwin he knew. The one who laughed with him and leaned into him and kissed him like it meant something. “Then what are you so fucking afraid of, love?”
“Don’t call me that!” Silence. Charles dropped his hands as Edwin took a shaky breath, staring at him with wide eyes. Haunted. “You were… never supposed to call me that.”
There was a sting behind his eyes. Charles never wanted anyone to look at him like that – afraid. So fucking afraid. And because he was his father’s son the pain tasted like fury on his tongue. “You decided that. Not me.”
“Oh, please Charles, you can’t just suddenly–“
“Suddenly? I thought you were proper fit the moment I saw you. It was you who just decided I didn’t! So maybe– ... fuck, maybe this is something–”
“It’s not!” Charles shut his mouth. Edwin looked... terrified. Eyes all red and big and shiny. Breathing like he was on the run. “It is not.” He repeated, lower this time, a little hitch in his voice. “This whole thing... was never real. Yes, it was fun scheming and playing pretend. But you do not fancy me, Charles.”
“Don’t tell me–”
“You don’t! Just look at me.” He did. Charles was always looking at him. That was the issue. “I am everything you despise!”
Shaking his head, Charles tried to swallow down the anger. He came here today, wanting to talk, to confess, almost certain Edwin would feel the same. Now it was all crumbling around him. “Your parents are, not you.”
Edwin simply shrugged, taking a step back from him. It felt like a slap to the face. “It doesn’t make a difference. We could not work in the long run, Charles. You might think it’s... fun, I guess, to... to get some grime on me. But I don’t.”
The ice was rushing. Flooding him, choking him. “No. Wait. No! That’s not what I meant! I was–”
But Edwin didn’t stop to listen. Rather, he took a deep breath and walked away – turning his back on Charles. In control again. So. Bloody. Calm. “I appreciate the sentiment of you not taking the money. I truly do. But this... this has to end. Now.”
“Edwin–”
“Goodbye, Charles. You know where the door is.” He was dismissed. And what could he do other than accept a clear No?
Before he closed the door, he glanced back at Edwin one last time. He was still turned away, arms wrapped around himself and shoulders nearly up to his ears. “Actual heartbreak wasn’t part of the deal, love.”
Edwin didn’t react.
So he left.
Notes:
Hey, friends! That was a big one!
Just wanted to pop in at the end of this chapter and give a big THANK YOU to everyone who is reading this, everyone commenting, leaving kudos, recommending this fic and sharing the love. It really means the world to me that you all have so much fun with this silly story and relate to it emotionally and share that with me. Honestly, I’m out here grinning and tearing up like an idiot about you guys every week – it’s embarrassing!
Chapter 9: Making Amends
Notes:
So... I gather we had some FEELINGS last chapter. Sorry about that cliffhanger, friends, it had to be done! Not gonna lie, I didn’t think I’d get this one out this weekend but then people in the comments and on tumblr were being sweet, so I cracked on with it.
Thus, a big thanks to everyone expressing their loud and somewhat violent emotions in the comments – I can’t tell you guys how stunned I was by all your feedback. Of course the quiet readers and bookmarkers and kudos-givers are appreciated just as much!
Love ya’ll!Trigger warning: short description of a panic attack and a pretty constant feeling of anxiety in this one. Be kind to yourselves, loves!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Edwin Payne was ridiculously, joyously, hauntingly in love with Charles Rowland.
And it would never work.
Because here is the issue with Edwin Payne: he fancied himself a rational person – he really wasn’t.
There was a certain disconnect in the way he experienced the world around him and he knew that about himself, often pictured that somewhere along the rocky road of his upbringing, something had shattered within him and now things were reflecting from strange angles. There were the thoughts he knew to be true and logical. And then there were his emotions turning them dark and ugly and destitute. And he always felt like running. Like time was rushing away from him and he was too late too late too late like the rabbit from Wonderland.
To remedy this cognitive rapture, he tried to examine every single thought of his, to turn it round and reconsider, reflect, recontextualize – to cover up the bloody rabbit hole he always seemed to fall into nonetheless. However, this was not possible in situations when emotions got the better of him, no matter how hard he tried to control them. And out of all the people in the world, Charles Rowland seemed to have a special gift to override Edwin’s logic and turn him into an emotional mess. Apparently, it had been only a matter of time (running out – too late) until someone followed him down the hole he had been digging – Charles did and Edwin hadn’t been able to catch his fall.
Because, at the end of the day, this was all Edwin’s fault.
He started the scheme even though he knew it would lead to trouble.
He asked to be kissed even though he knew it was wrong.
He escalated their intimacy even though he knew he couldn’t handle it.
He pushed Charles away even though he wanted him so badly.
And Edwin Payne knew what it was like to be wanted – lots of people wanted him to be lots of things, and mostly they were things different from what he actually was. Simon had wanted him plenty if only to keep him just as small as he preferred him to be. But Edwin didn’t have a lot of experience wanting so achingly… He supposed he must’ve wanted Simon at some point or other. Although now, in comparison, he wasn’t so sure about that anymore. Maybe he had just desperately wanted something real. That was what Charles had called it. Something real. Edwin was not sure what he meant by that. But maybe he had an idea…
That Sunday morning when he woke up to a tabloid being tossed on his bed, the scornful eyes of his mother and his own glare on the page, panic rose inside of him – heart-pounding panic, making him freeze and hold his breath because his body remembered hiding from the boys who liked to torment him so much. There were sharp words sent his way and he caught about half of it. Like shame and embarrassment and mostly your father. But he hadn’t paid much attention. His mind was already running. Charles Charles Charles.
But Charles said it was fine. His father hadn’t seen the pictures. All was well. It didn’t feel well at all.
For the next few days, Edwin breathed like he was running a marathon. Body always on edge, training as much as possible to tire it out, to get rid of the adrenaline that had him shaking en pointe. Sitting on his balcony at night, on the lookout for Charles bleeding down his street.
Your fault your fault your fault.
Edwin had never hit someone before in his life. He didn’t plan on it – actually just wanted to make sure Charles wouldn’t get in trouble – and afterwards he felt quite sick about it. But at that moment, David’s hateful face had seemed like a culmination of everything and everyone that had wronged his friends – had wronged Edwin. A member of polite society – a society in which politeness includes steel contempt for everyone who dares be different. Worst if they dared to be born different. But since Edwin was a member of said society, too – and oh, did he wish he could forget that for a moment – things worked differently for him. There were three concessions the Paynes had to make to smooth over the ghastly affair with the Deamons:
Firstly, there was a six-figure settlement taken out of Edwin’s trust fund, which meant very little to him other than that there were endless candidates who would’ve needed the money more than the biggest diamond distributor in the hemisphere.
Secondly, Edwin had to write an apology letter to David, like a child getting into a scuffle at the playground, his mother peering over his shoulder to make sure he didn’t hide some back-handed insincerity in his lines. Still, he was a bit proud of sneaking in a “contrary to all evidence, I shall believe you to be a gentleman in disregarding this faux pas (meaning ‘social misstep’)” while his mother was on the phone.
Thirdly, his mother had to allow Mrs. Deamon a place on the board of the Charlotte Association – a prolific charity organisation she headed –, which apparently had been a point of contention between the two women for the past decade or so. “I swear to god Edwin, if you ever think I don’t love you enough, remember that next year’s Easter Benefit will probably have the ugliest colour scheme! That woman is way too fond of mustard-yellow!”
There was a fourth concession and it had nothing to do with the Deamons at all: In his father’s office – a place Edwin remembered mostly from his childhood when he wasn’t old enough yet to stay out of trouble –, perched on a stiff armchair with his mother standing behind him, hand hovering at his shoulder and his father towering over him, Edwin listened to a long, stern lecture about good form, social standing and family honor. This was concluded by the following ultimatum: “It is time to get serious about your life, Edwin”, he said and his face was that stone mask Edwin used to cry about when he was a kid, because it looked so little like his father. “And about the place you have in this family. I let you run wild for way too long. I thought you would come to your senses eventually – or get yourself into trouble.”
“Richard...”, his mother tried to cut in, but she was silenced with a sharp look – the one that always silenced her when nobody else was around.
He turned back to level that same look at Edwin, who now felt a bit sick, pulse racing way too quickly for someone simply sitting down. “I tried to let you live out your little dreams of dancing. Now you have to prove to me that you can be a responsible adult – that this is going to be an actual career. If you don’t get a proper offer by a reputable company or a suitable university programme by the time your final exams are in session, this fanciful idea of yours is over. You are going to Cambridge. You are going to appreciate the privilege you’ve been given from birth. And you will study law and intern for me. You will behave yourself, you will dress like a man and you will focus on your studies. This silliness ends now. I am done paying for you to throw your life away. Do we understand each other?”
Edwin glanced at his mother. She just stood there, eyes aflame, but lips pressed together.
So he nodded.
To a boy with a sprinting heart, a deadline like this was like dropping a bomb on his peace. The showcase was in barely two weeks and would be the big deciding factor in whether he got any inviations to audition for early admission – the only way he could meet his father’s expectations. It did occur to him to talk to the others about it – but Charles would feel guilty (because of course he would) and Niko had her own performance and future to worry about. And Crystal… Edwin struggled to think about any way Crystal would even care. So as the days crept by and Edwin was trying to master the most impressive variation he could manage, he felt like whatever had cracked inside of him from a young age, was beginning to fracture into even tinier pieces, making it hard to focus. Thus, he couldn’t allow himself to be distracted in any way – even though the perfect distraction was trying to reach out to him.
He hadn’t answered a lot of Charles’ texts or returned his call. Hadn’t dared to think about kissing him in that hallway (although the memory rushed in once he allowed himself to settle down in bed, a bed he had shared with Charles, wearing his hoodie, a hoodie that had been washed and now didn’t smell of Charles anymore, but at least it also was no longer stained with his blood and Edwin wore it out on the balcony when the first winter chill got to him). It all felt too fragile. Like breathing in Charles’ direction would make things crumble.
Instead, – and he dreamed up several ways to be ashamed about it – he texted Monty Finch. Edwin wasn’t as obtuse as people seemed to think. He knew Monty was trying to flirt with him. Another person who ignored Charles’ existence. But of course this was what Edwin had been aiming for, wasn’t it? A real boyfriend. And Monty was nice, and he knew his way around society and people wouldn’t even blink if Edwin brought him along to an event. He was just about the minimum Edwin’s parents expected of him. And he had nothing to do with schemes and feelings, so he wasn’t a distraction – just a simple presence whenever Edwin glanced at his phone. He also wasn’t Charles Rowland.
Charles Rowland, who one day just showed up at the academy to watch him dance – and bring food, because he always took care of Edwin as if it was his job. Edwin should’ve told him to leave that first evening – there was no way he could. The last few weeks, Edwin had felt like floating in some liminal space. He simply could not squander a chance at being so close, of feeling Charles’ eyes on him. Edwin knew he was a vain person in the sense that he always needed to look presentable. But Charles Rowland was the first person he ever wanted to look at him. Because even when Edwin wasn’t perfect – or it seemed especially then – Charles’ eyes were burning into him. Like the marks he had left on his throat and his shoulder and the inside of his thigh. Those dark spots Edwin sometimes traced his fingers over in the privacy of darkness, even as they were fading. No, he couldn’t send Charles away.
So there it was, the distraction – he lost time in the studio, laughing and joking and listening to his pounding heart. Time, that was so incredibly important. Running out, running out, running out. So, once he was home, he began practicing again in his room, silently counting the steps, the turns, over and over and over and over and... until his head hurt and then just a bit more. An old piece of wisdom from Madame Night: You build endurance in the space where you can’t breathe anymore. If you don’t push yourself then, you’ll never get further.
He didn’t sleep much during that week.
After the showcase, he wasn’t relieved – the aching tension in his neck only spiked. He did it almost right. But in the one and a half minutes he spent on stage, he counted thirty-three imperfections. One mistake about every 2,7 seconds. Which was too much. A twitch in a leg that should’ve been perfectly straight. Ten seconds in which he forgot to focus on the proper poise of his fingers – and did he even try to school his face into anything resembling an emotion or had he just been staring blindly into nothingness the whole variation? One arm not bent at the right angle. A wobble in his standing leg at fouetté thirty-two.
He almost fell, he just knew it.
So when he walked off stage he felt like throwing up – thankfully, he had stuck to lemon water and a protein bar that day. He quickly changed, trying to just keep breathing and keep moving and – keep it together. Niko depends on you. And oh, had she been wrong to pick him. The Giselle pas de deux was probably the worst performance of his life. Because other than the millions and millions of mistakes he was making along the way, something inexcusable happened:
He almost dropped Niko.
Could feel his hands slip and had to grasp her harder.
The way she was looking at him when they were going off-stage – eyes big and questioning – he couldn’t bear it. So he excused himself to go to the bathroom, sat down on a toilet lid and put his head between his knees. Trying to breathe. Just trying to breathe.
By the time he returned, the showcase was almost over and afterwards Niko took him to get hugged and congratulated by Crystal and Charles. Their encouragement was smothering.
Then they were getting food and it was heavy in his stomach.
Everything was over and now it was out of his hands and it was terrifying. So he tried to lose himself in the crowd and the music and Charles Rowland, but it barely worked.
Standing outside in the cold with Niko to catch their breath, he was shivering in his thin coat. They had left Charles and Crystal to throw themselves into a mosh pit and Niko was standing next to him in her puffy red jacket with a fruity cocktail in hand and worry etched in her forehead – a quite unusual expression for her. “Hey… are you alright, Edwin?”
He nearly crumbled then, voice coming out strangled. “I am so sorry, Niko...”
She blinked at him – surprised, maybe confused. “What for?”
Instead of looking at her – because you are a coward – he blinked up at what little stars were still braving the illuminated night sky of London, whispering his confession towards them. “I almost dropped you.”
Niko didn’t answer right away and as he carefully glanced at her, she was frowning at him. He wasn’t even aware her face could do that. It looked strange. “No you didn’t.”
“I almost lost hold of you.”
“When?”
She sounded like she actually didn’t know. How could she not know? “The last lift.”
Face lighting up in understanding now, her eyes went wide. “Edwin, you adjusted your grip. Like, a tiny bit. That’s completely normal.”
“I wouldn’t have had to adjust my grip if I had held on to you right to begin with! I could have dropped you, you could’ve been hurt!” His voice broke and he swallowed its pieces – they went down like shards of glass. Niko stared at him with so much bewilderment, bordering on disorientation. Before she could find her words, Edwin found the entrance to the club.
Back inside, he felt adrift until Charles had his arms around him again, making him solid, a person. Real. Edwin wanted it to be real so badly. So he put all his weight on Charles, closed his eyes so his consciousness would simply stay with his touch. Then, in a rush of something strange and anxious, Charles was gone. And Edwin didn’t have the strength to be real anymore. Solemnly standing in the darkness, lights flashing over him like an old projector, he considered himself and remembered how horrible and deeply unfair it was to expect another person to make you real. You’ve always been like that. Selfish.
Then he heard Charles talk to Thomas and it tugged on something deep inside of him. Simon had said the worst things with his lips to Edwin’s skin. And then he would repeat them to his friends when he thought Edwin wasn’t listening. Charles’ voice was so bitter, so unfamiliar… but no, it wasn’t unfamiliar. He sounded like he had the night he showed up bleeding at Edwin’s doorstep. So incredibly hurt. Because of you. Because of the things you put him through. Kind and protective Charles Rowland would take a lot of things. All the hateful faces and voices – all the disregard and disrespect and disgust. That beautiful world of his. He would take it like he took his father’s beatings, because he wanted to be there for another person – be it his mother or Edwin. And he would take it until it knocked him down and then he would stand up again. And again. And again. Edwin didn’t want to be the one to test when Charles wouldn’t be able to get up anymore.
So later that night, when Charles looked at him with bright eyes and asked to see him the next day, Edwin made a decision. To invite him to his home, when he knew his father would be there – and to finally end this. To set Charles free, just as they had planned.
It might have been one of the worst things Edwin had ever done.
There he stood, the nicest boy in existence with the warmest eyes in the world – lost and angry and still reaching his hand out, calling him love – and it was so, so terrifying. Edwin tried to tell him, he really did. I am everything you despise. But Charles didn’t want to hear it. Edwin had to tell him no, to push him away, because only looking at Charles sent shivers of fear through him – not because of him, but for him. He remembered then, clinging to Simon, basically begging him to love him – for someone to love him. You can’t do that to Charles.
It was the right thing to do.
That being said, when he came downstairs that evening and saw two to-go-cups on the sideboard next to the front door, the visual hit him like a punch. Walking over, he took one of them and opened the lid. It was ice-cold by now, but there was still that signature perfume of spices and caramel his brain had pretty much linked to Charles. That’s when he started crying. And he wasn’t quite sure how to stop.
The following week, Edwin started each day by considering calling in sick – he had never done that, not in twelve years of practice. He had never missed a day on purpose and often danced even when he wasn’t in any shape to do so. But each day the idea of facing people – no, facing himself in that wall of mirrors with its inherent function to seek out any flaw … he couldn’t bear it.
Then he remembered Charles calling him a coward.
So he got out of bed, and he combed his hair flat, put on a clean shirt and a vest and a bow-tie and pretty much did his best to feel, or at least look like Edwin Payne. As he considered himself in the mirror, he wasn’t quite sure what that meant anymore.
On top of everything, his parents were acting exceedingly strange. There wasn’t anything as undignified as shouting, but his father was closing the office door with increasing emphasis and his mother had taken to blasting some of the old records Charles had dug up a few weeks ago at staggering volumes. If she knew father was conducting a business call, The Clash would scream through their house about fighting the law and Edwin could appreciate the irony.
He had also caught her glumly smoking in the drawing room, which was most confusing since she had often lectured him about not picking up the insidious nicotine habit that ran rampant in dance circles, because “it just gives you wrinkles and is nothing but a lazy way to lose weight”.
In school – and Edwin wasn’t proud of it – he dodged Niko. He was not quite sure how situations like theirs would be handled under common circumstances (and there was nothing common about their circumstances), but since whatever had happened between Charles and him had crashed and burned and Niko was Crystal’s girlfriend – well, he didn’t want her to have to choose sides. She wouldn’t choose yours either way.
The issue was, he had gotten used to Niko, to her bright and pastel presence and soft tone of voice and inspirational optimism. Of course, he had only known her since summer practices, shortly before the school year started, and they were just slipping into December now. But she had picked him as her first new friend, and he had told her so many secrets, and she had cried on his shoulder about her dad passing away – the actual reason she was sent abroad, because who really went to England to learn ballet? The thought of losing her on top of everything was sickening and desolate, so he tried to get used to it. Ease himself back into the loneliness he had been accustomed to before she had burst into his life like a bubblegum wreaking ball. So, instead of taking his usual spot in class next to Niko, he found himself kind of hiding behind Natalie of all people, who seemed somewhat confused and offended by that fact. Which was fine by Edwin, since bothering Natalie was a good distraction. Suddenly, this was all he wanted: a distraction. Easy, unreal, not – Actual heartbreak wasn’t part of the deal, love.
So, he texted Monty Finch again. A lot. Talking about barely anything while trying to ignore Niko sending him video after video of cute animals falling over. Monty was interested in star signs and the meanings of tarot cards and all the things Edwin didn’t really care about – but it was kind of nice when someone talked about something they cared about so much. Something Edwin himself didn’t have any stock in. Something – someone so perfectly removed from anything that was his life right now.
They didn’t meet at the café by the Academy Edwin had frequented with the girls and Charles. He was way too paranoid about a possible awkward encounter. Thus, they met around the corner of the British Library for tea and scones – which was a mistake, because it made him think about the meet-cute Charles had dreamed up for them about two months ago.
I don’t eat cake.
Something you’ll have to change if you want our love to prevail, mate.
Edwin didn’t touch the scones. Instead, he just kept to Earl Grey and tried to pay attention as Monty – very sweet, very pretty, very not-Charles Monty – rambled on about how his mother had actually taught him to read tarot cards when he was very little.
“So you think you can predict the future?”, Edwin muttered into his cup and it must’ve sounded way more bitter than he had intended, because Monty tilted his head, halfway between amused and offended.
“Judgmental, but okay. If you don’t believe in the mystical element of it, that’s fine. Tarot can still be very useful in other ways. Introspection for example – consider it a more complicated Rorschach test. Yes, the pictures have meanings associated with them, but it’s more important what you make of them. What do you associate with their themes and what does this association tell you about yourself?”
“That… is actually quite interesting”, Edwin admitted, despite himself.
Monty grinned, obviously proud of his debate skills and reached into his satchel hanging over the back of the chair he was perched on, pulling out a pitch black velvety pouch, from which he produced a deck of cards. They were big enough to fill Monty’s palm and the design on their backs was dark purple and blue with golden suns, moons and stars added in shiny foil. “Great. So, open to try it?”
Curious now, Edwin nodded and Monty’s smile got just a big wider. He proceeded to tap a knuckle on top of the deck as one would knock at a door. You are leading him on. Giving him a chance, even though you know there is none. He’s such a sweet boy and you –
“Great! Let’s do an easy reading first. You draw three cards”, Monty explained as he arranged their cups and plates on the edge of the small table between them to get some empty space in the middle for him to spread the deck across in one elegant swipe of his hand. “For the first, think about your past. There might be a lesson to learn there. The second is your present – what are the big things you are dealing with right now? The third is the future – a piece of advice or something to guide you on your path. Just let your fingers wander over the cards and if one feels right, take it.”
“Feels right?”, Edwin asked, raising a skeptical brow at him.
Monty shrugged. “Some people say a certain card can feel warmer or colder to them or kinda stick to their fingers or something. Whatever feels right.”
Edwin tried his best to have an open mind about this – he wasn’t any good at it. So after letting his fingers graze over the cards several times without getting any sign of what the right ones would be, he just picked three at random and put them out in a row between the two of them.
Monty gave him a wry smile, like he knew exactly what Edwin was doing. But then he focused on the reading with all the gravitas some serious divination required. Turning the first card, he raised his brows and Edwin glanced down. It was a picture of a woman in a white nightgown, sitting up in a bed, her face buried in her hands. On the black wall behind her hung several gilded swords, one on top of the other. “Past: Nine of Swords”, Monty declared, voice a bit flat. “Bummer.”
“It does look rather depressing.”
“Yeah, it’s basically the depression card. Swords in tarot can represent your mentality, your intellect and thoughts. Powerful but also deadly, right? So if you have all of those…”, his slender finger drew a line over the nine blades on the card. “… things can get dicey. It’s hard to deal with so much. Can be a lot of pain and trauma and pressure and fear… This one is basically just a big sign saying: Get help.” He blinked up at Edwin, face suddenly uncertain. “Sorry, this is starting out quite dark.”
Wordlessly, Edwin shook his head, eyes glued to the card still. Something was churning deep in his gut and he was kind of glad he had not opted for the sweets. When it became clear Edwin wouldn’t comment on his reading, Monty turned over the next card – present. “Ah, Five of Wands. A big conflict-card”, Monty explained, trying for more levity in his tone. “See how all these people are basically just hitting each other with sticks?”
“If this is about me kicking David Deamon in the groin, I regret nothing.”
Monty chuckled, shaking his head. “Way too literal. It’s art, you have to interpret it. Look, they are brawling, nobody is slowing down to communicate, noone listens, so the conflict can only escalate.” All of a sudden, Edwin Payne was confronted with the strange notion of being called out by a colourful piece of cardstock. “It’s always good to take a step back, evaluate what’s happening and get to the bottom of things instead of using the clobbering method.”
“Understood”, Edwin muttered, and there was a twitch to the corner of Monty’s lip.
“Am I hitting a nerve with this?”
Edwin glowered at him, but he couldn’t be mad since Monty seemed to downright preen right now. “I will admit, you are in the general vicinity of a nerve.”
The boy grinned, self-satisfied, before turning over the last card, his face instantly sobering up again. It depicted a goat-headed man on a dark throne, horns curling and filling in the whole top of the card, as two naked people in chains kneeled in front of him. “The Devil”, Edwin muttered. “Blessed be my future.”
Monty sighed, frowning at Edwin. “Like I said, you can’t take these things literally.” His fingertips tapped on the card. “Yes, the Devil can stand for lots of bad things: inner demons, temptation, pride, obsession, crumbling mental health, addiction… but really look at the card.” He pointed to the people on the bottom. “Their chains are so loose, they could simply slip out. They could leave at any time, but they don’t. Why do you think that is?”
“Because there is a huge goat-man-hybrid right in front of them?”
“Because their punishment – their hell – is self-inflicted. But they have the power to leave all the bad stuff behind and escape. This card is a call to action.”
Uneasiness filtering through his veins, Edwin stared at the cards. At least now he had a legitimate reason to dislike tarot.
After they left the café, they wandered past the British Library on the way to the tube. And because fate was cruel, it was at this very moment – as they passed the building and Edwin carefully allowed himself to smile at a quip Monty made – that Charles Rowland walked down its steps, army-green backpack slung over his shoulder and coming to a staggering halt as he caught sight of Edwin. They stood there for a moment, frozen in a stasis in which they both could only stare at the other. Even Monty seemed to catch on to the tension, so he kept quiet, eyes flitting back and forth between the two boys.
“Hi”, Charles said, and that one rough syllable was enough for Edwin to lose himself for a moment – he hadn’t seen Charles for a week now and he looked tired. And pale. And beautiful. And very, very far away.
Edwin breathed a “Hi…” back and glancing towards the library entrance, he asked, “Biology exam?”
“Next week”, Charles muttered. His eyes flitted to Monty and there was that glint Edwin had seen before – as Charles was draping himself over his back in the Rose Hall or hovering over him on the floor of a dance studio. It shook something loose in his chest – he wanted to grab for Charles, to tell him you, you, only you.
Instead, he just said: “Thursday, right? Good luck.”
“Thanks…”
They regarded each other in silence for another ten heartbeats. Before Edwin could regain enough breath to form another word, Charles turned on his heel and quickly walked back up the steps and into the library.
Go after him.
Take action.
If you punish yourself, everywhere becomes hell.
Edwin just watched him go.
Things at home were becoming worse. In the past two weeks, they hadn’t had a meal as a family once. Which in itself, was not that strange, but usually his mother made the effort to be miffed about such things. Now, when Edwin’s parents weren’t avoiding each other, they were glaring daggers. This was by far not his parent’s first fight. In a way, the dark looks and the silence were familiar – anxiously comforting. It only turned concerning when the screaming started – Edwin had never heard his mother scream like that. On the bright side, at least they were loud enough for Edwin to finally hear what this was all about as he was crouching on top of the stars, hiding himself away and listening to his parents shouting in the drawing room – because he had gathered that their fight was somewhat about him, but he could not have predicted in what way.
“You can’t expect me to sit by and watch as he throws his life away, walking around with that– that classless hooligan, looking like a– ”
“What, Richard?” His mother’s tone was so sharp Edwin almost felt the edge himself. “Please enlighten me, what does our son look like to you?! A man who was only ever dressed by his mother or his wife! Shall I contact Anna Wintour so you might give her some fashion advice too, while you are at it?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” With a flash of white-hot shame and a wince, Edwin remembered saying the exact same thing to Charles. So that’s where you heard that before.
“I will be ridiculous if I want to! I’m calling her right now.”
“Victoria! Put the phone down, it is four in the morning there!"
“Well, unlike someone, Anna actually answers my calls!”
“I am a busy man!” Edwin had not been aware his father’s voice could become that shrill.
“Right, busy sitting at a desk all day with thirty employees to wait on your hand and foot. How do you manage? Just a reminder, dear: I could’ve married a duke! And I’m sure he would’ve answered my bloody calls too!” There was a thump and with some incredulity, Edwin realized that his mother must’ve stomped her foot like a toddler.
“You also could have married a delinquent!”
“Well, at least he was earning his money honestly and didn’t get everything handed to him by his papa!”
“Selling grass on a university campus is not honest work!”
“More honest than whatever you are doing for some of parliament–”
“My work is none of your business, Victoria!”
“Then my son is none of yours!”
“He is our son!”
“I am not prepared to confirm or deny that as long as you are acting like a donkey!”
“I simply wanted to protect him.”
“You wanted to protect yourself! You and your fucking ego!”
“A new money violinist – with an actress for a mother – or some grimey proletarian are no match for a Payne!”
“Oh, so we should introduce him to a mediocre lawyer with a receding hairline?”
“I can not talk to you when you are like this!”, his father huffed, heavy steps nearing the drawing room door.
“Well, I can not be married to you when you are like this!”
“Now don’t get hysterical, Victoria–”
“YOU SET A PRICE ON MY SON!”
Silence.
Edwin felt his breath congeal into a knot deep in his throat. It had sounded like someone had ripped the words from his mother by force.
“Ten-thousand pounds, Richard”, she continued, quieter this time so Edwin had to strain to hear her. There was a sob, buried deep. “You sat down and you thought about your mad offer and you priced our son at ten-thousand pounds. I have fucking handbags that are worth more than that! You treated our kid like something you could buy back from someone – twice! You paid for him to have his heart broken twice!”
For a while not a single soul breathed in the Payne townhouse. And when Richard Payne dared to speak, it was with an edge of shame. “Well, the heathen didn’t even take the money, so …”
A beat of silence again. Then, “...he didn’t?”
His father cleared his throat and there was some uncertain shuffling. “Refused and called me a soziopath.”
“Then why, pray tell…” She almost sounded like she was forcing the words past gritted teeth. “… is my child crying his eyes out over that boy?”
Rude. Edwin hadn’t been crying for days now.
“How should I know that?”
“Maybe if you took a fucking interest in him, for once–” And the shouting continued.
Sitting silently on the stairs, Edwin felt himself float away, growing numb to the noise that usually itched at his skin.
In his mind, a picture formed itself. He was en pointe, balancing on the edge – of something.
“You call that a saut de chat, Natalie? I know twelve-year-olds who have better poise than you!” So, he might’ve been a bit tense that day.
Natalie gaped at him from the other side of the studio, hands on her bony hips and chest heaving – whether from exertion or irritation, Edwin couldn’t be sure. “What crawled up your ass, Payne? You are even more of a bitch than usual.”
“Well, you’re more of a rhinoceros than usual!”
Glaring at him, she threw back her long red hair – begrudgingly, he had to admit that her new extensions looked way better than the last. He would never say that out loud. “At least I didn’t mess up an iconic piece in front of all the scouts. Don’t think I didn’t see you flounder on that last fouetté.”
Usually, Edwin Payne was not an angry man. Right now, though, he was pissed. “Oh, go fuck yourself, Natalie!”
“Mr. Payne!”
In an instant, his spine was ramrod straight and his body went right into panic mode. Even with his heart pounding like a drum, he didn’t dare to breathe as Madame Night circled him, somehow akin to a vulture, until she was in his line of sight. She narrowed her eyes at him in utter disapproval. “I am appalled by your recent behaviour, Mr. Payne. Especially this week. If you want to spout vitriol, you better leave my studio.”
Slowly exhaling to try and calm himself, he nodded, keeping his gaze on the floor instead of her eyes – he wouldn’t dare look at her right now. “I am sorry, Madame.”
“I wasn’t making a suggestion, Payne. You may go and come back tomorrow. Bring a better attitude.”
A gasp was going through class and Edwin glanced to the side. Niko was staring at him with wide eyes, almost as fearful as he felt. He tried so hard to stay impassive. “Madame–”
“Now!”
So he walked out, stunned and with a sense of numbness creeping into the edges of his mind. He should get showered and dressed, but he needed to move right now. Actually he needed to run, but he forced himself to take measured steps down the quiet marble corridor – all students were either gone already or in their own practices. He felt like a haunting specter. A shiver ran through him, since his training clothes were way too thin for the Academy’s halls in winter.
He had never been kicked out of practice before, even though Madame Night was a very strict teacher – often bordering on unreasonable. Was his vision getting blurry or was it the fear closing in? This was the woman who would write his letter of recommendation. If she would even recommend him after this. He felt sick, suddenly relieved there was nothing in his stomach but lemon water.
Always. Fucking. Lemon water.
At some point, he simply leaned against a cold wall, chilling his heated skin. Just trying not to throw up.
That’s when he heard the steps.
“Isn’t that great, and here I thought I’d had to drag your ass out of your studio – what with you hiding from everyone, you goddamned mother–” Edwin blinked at the cloudy purple shape approaching him until it turned into Crystal Palace, her expression dark and pinched in a by-the-book display of fury. “You better have a real good explanation for what the fuck is going on with you, Payne! I have the money, I know the people who know the people, I can make you disappear!”
“Crystal–”, he began to mutter, but she was already working herself into a good old-fashioned tirade.
“You listen to me: I have a grown-ass man on my couch listening to a pathetic playlist that seems to be ninety percent Olivia Rodrigo on repeat – and a girlfriend who’s crying because her best friend is ignoring her!”
Suddenly light-headed, as if his brain was stuffed with cotton balls, Edwin stared at her. “Niko is crying?”
“Yes! Because you are a fucking asshole!”
“I didn’t think–”
“I know you didn’t, but you better start now and quickly!”, she snapped, stepping up close to him and poking her finger into his chest as if she was thinking of piercing her coffin-shaped nail right through him. In the back of his mind, Edwin was quite impressed by how such a small person could seem so undeniably frightening. “I honestly don’t know what Charles sees in you, you pale, up-tight weirdo. After all the bullshit you’ve put him through, after he got fucking outed by the tabloids and lost his fucking home–”
Finally, Edwin snapped to attention. “What?”
Crystal’s anger seemed to evaporate in a split second, leaving behind a vexed uncertainty. “Niko didn’t tell you?”
Dread began to seep through his veins and into his bones, locking him in place. “Tell me what?”
“...Charles’ dad found the article”, Crystal said after a brief hesitation, hands beginning to fiddle with the edge of her paint-splattered sweater. “He kicked him out of the house the day before your showcase.”
He wasn’t breathing.
Curious.
As the cold of the walls crept deeper into him – his hands and feet and face – there was a high-pitched whine in his ears, piercing right through him. Somewhat muffled, he registered that Crystal was talking to him. Saying his name.
When the shaking began, there were hands on his arms and he found himself slowly lowering – or being lowered? – to the ground.
That’s when his body remembered it needed air and he tried to breathe, but couldn’t.
His throat was closing up.
He was gasping for air, fighting for it, violently grabbing for it.
A firm hand pressed to arm. “Edwin!” Oh good, his ears were working again. “Edwin, breathe with me!” Slow tapping on his arm then. One – two – three – four – five. “Five in, five out.” One – two – three – four – five. “Can you do that with me? In through the nose, out through the mouth.” One – two – three – four – five.
And on and on they tapped and breathed.
As the blockage in his lungs dissolved, so did Edwin, tears flowing down his face as his muscles stopped spasming and went slack, slumping him against Crystal at his side. She was surprisingly solid and her sweater smelled of acrylic paint and something warm. In the back of his mind he considered being ashamed of crying in front of her. But he wasn’t. Because she looked at him with eyes so open and somewhat afraid but not at all judgmental. “Are you... alright?”, she asked after a while of breathing in silence.
He nodded, not really sure what would come out if he opened his mouth then.
“Does this happen a lot?”
He shook his head. Considered. Shrugged. Then finally spoke. “Not anymore.” He sounded like shit. God, he was tired.
“Okay... that’s good... I think. Look, I–... I didn’t want–”
“It wasn’t you”, he rasped out, trying to sit up a bit straighter. “I’ve felt it right under the surface for a while now. It was just a matter of time.” Running out, running out, running… With a sniff, he wiped away the tears. “I am sorry you had to witness this.”
“Fuck that”, she snapped, before catching herself and continuing in a gentler tone. “Don’t say that. We’re friends–”
“We are?” He blinked at her, genuinely stunned, and she furrowed her brows at him.
“Wouldn’t be so fucking pissed at you if we weren’t”, she muttered, nudging him with her shoulder. “Also, I only have two other friends and one of them is my girlfriend, so...”
“Okay…” He took another ten seconds of breathing before he could ask. “Is... Is Charles alright? Is he hurt?” Edwin couldn’t remember seeing any injury on Charles, but that boy had an incredible pokerface if he wanted to.
Crystal shook her head, lessening at least one of his fears fractionally. “No, he’s fine. As fine as possible under the circumstances, anyway. I got him to stay with me for a while.”
“Good.” He already had the worst visions of Charles camping out in Hyde Park. “I’m so sorry, Crystal. I didn’t know–”
“Don’t say that to me”, she interrupted, drawing in her legs to huddle herself into a ball on the floor, propping her chin up on her knees. “I’m not the one you should talk to.”
“But you are. I need you to know that I’ve never wanted to hurt him.”
“Yeah... I know.” Her voice got low and gentle – she still told him the truth: “You did though.”
Nodding, he averted his gaze and locked it on the colourless wall opposite of him, trying to find an easy spot for his eyes to rest. They were burning. “Quite more seriously than I thought it seems...”
“Can you be real with me for a second?”
He didn’t know how. “I will try.”
She huffed at him, but still continued, probably gathering that this was as good as she would get. “Do you like him?”
“Of course I do.”
“Do you love him?”
He hesitated – not because he didn’t know. But because it was hard to speak it into the universe – or even to Crystal Palace, which seemed to be the same thing right now. “Of course I do...”
A beat of silence. He wondered if that had surprised her. “So what happened?”
What a big question. Edwin mulled it over for a moment but couldn’t really come up with anything other than: “I just wanted to end what we started.”
Crystal snorted a joyless laugh at him. “Well, that was a stupid idea. Things are not the way you started anymore.”
“I realized that. Too late, it seems.” Too late, too late, too late…
“You know Charles thinks you’ll never forgive him.”
He frowned at the wall. “Forgive him? For what?”
“For that stupid-ass fuckboy-shit, he said to Thomas. Don’t worry, I already tore him a new one for that. But you know he didn’t mean it, right?”
Nothing serious. H e’s just slummin’ it with me. He’s gonna return to that bloody beautiful world of his soon enough.
“Obviously.”
Crystal sighed and he could feel her eyes on him, exasperated. “So why aren’t you with him then? You know he likes you. You like him.” No, he loved him. “Why aren’t you actively in your honeymoon phase right now and instead destroying my honeymoon phase with your bullshit?”
Edwin couldn’t hold in a short, dry laugh, gesturing to himself and the mess of a person he was. “Because I am like this.”
“Pale, bony and irritating?”
“A pretentious trust-fund-baby who’s only ever brought him trouble.”
“God, you two need to get the fuck over yourself!” From the corner of his eye, he saw her shuffling, before she stood, building herself right up to her full, unimpressive height and glaring down at him. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself and start being an active participant in your own life, man!”
He shrugged, a bit lost on what she was talking about. “I thought that’s what I did when I started this whole ruse. You can see how that turned out.”
“Bullshit, you just picked another person to fight for you. Look…” She sighed, burying her hands in the big pockets of her jumper with a deep sigh, but she kept eye-contact – which at this point was getting a bit uncomfortable for Edwin. “You know how I was... before.”
“I know how the tabloids presented you.”
Something unreadable rushed over her face and she pressed her lips together, nodding slightly. “Thanks for making that distinction… But they weren’t off by much, to be honest. I was acting like a vapid, careless trust-fund-baby.”
“We should found a club.”
“I was always so... angry”, she continued, not going in on his quip as Charles probably would’ve done. Crystal was determined to talk. About the real things. “And lonely. And nobody gave a shit about me other than those photographers. When I was in the tabloids for something stupid – and it was always something stupid – my parents would at least call to scold me... although even that dried up quick the older I got. I had a bunch of people who pretended they were my friends for money or the limelight... probably had some real friends too, but I couldn’t tell the difference, so I was shit to all of them. And David…” She took a fragile breath, the shudder of the memories visibly making her pause. “I thought he really loved me. But he only loved that I was a cruel bitch and so he made me worse. No…” Shaking her head, she chewed on her bottom lip, deep in thought for a moment. Edwin just looked at her, letting her think and wondering how she could bear it – to flay her soul open like that. In front of him. “That’s not right. I made myself worse so he would like me better, that’s it. Then we had one of our big fights, because he cheated on me – again... and I wanted to get away from everything, so I went to that dingy-ass club.”
“Where you met Charles.”
“I thought he was a cute distraction. A fine addition to my body count. But you know how it is... he’s...”
Edwin simply nodded. “I know.” There was no way to fit all the brilliance of Charles Rowland into a simple sentence, so he didn’t even try.
“I just needed one friend. A person who liked me for me. And that was him.”
As she watched her eyes turn wistful and misty at the memory, Edwin thought about Niko finding him. Because that’s what she did – they didn’t meet, she found him. Picked him up like a trinket someone had discarded on the street and cared for him from then. “That’s something very precious”, he muttered and the two of them shared a look of understanding.
“Look … I get that you might not want to talk to Charles right now. But what’s up with ghosting Niko?”
Lowering his gaze, he shrugged, shame rising in his chest again. “I… thought after what happened… after I hurt Charles so much, she wouldn’t be that fond of me anymore.”
Crystal was silent for a while. Then her hand entered his field of vision and he glanced up. She was holding it out for him as if to try and help him stand. “You know, thinking everybody hates you is actually such a shitty thing to think. It implies everybody is a hateful person. You think Niko is a hateful person?”
“Of course not.” The idea itself was ridiculous.
“So why would you think she would hate you?”
He blinked at her and instead of telling him he was an idiot, as he probably deserved, she simply wiggled her fingers in emphasis until he took her hand and let himself be hoisted up to his feet. She was way stronger than he had anticipated. “I’m gonna see you at the opening of my department’s exhibition.” It was neither a question nor a request – it was a demand, maybe even a threat.
“I did not think you would want me to come.”
“Well, if I had to watch you do thirty fucking pirouettes, you are going to look at my paintings.”
“Thirty-two. And they were fouettés.”
“Just for that comment you’re going to bring me fucking flowers, are we clear?”
“Crystal clear.”
“Haha”, she deadpanned, glaring at him – but now he knew it was a fond glare. “Never heard that one. God, you two clowns deserve each other.”
The first step Edwin Payne took to get over himself was waiting for Niko at his usual spot by the changing rooms – he hadn’t done that in two weeks. When she walked out, she even jumped a bit at the sight of him, eyes big and uncertain. “Hey”, he said, which was a weak start, but he still felt shaky on his legs, so he let it pass. “Is it alright if we talk?”
They walked back into the studio, now empty and quiet, and sat down on the floor, huddled together under the practice bars that had been dragged to the side for répertoire class. “I’m sorry”, Edwin began, quiet but determined. “I… was going a bit haywire the last few weeks… and I thought it would be better to distance myself. But I know now how stupid that was.”
“It really was”, Niko muttered, leaning in to prop her head on his shoulder. A sigh of relief and dislodged tension escaped them both as they eased into each other. The world was right again. Mostly, at least.
“What’s happening up there?”, Niko asked quietly, reaching up to tap a gentle finger on his forehead.
“A lot.”
“As usual. But it seems quite bad recently.”
“...my father set me an ultimatum.” Finally, he allowed himself to say the truth. And the weight on his chest seemed to lift, just a bit. “If I’m not accepted into a program once exams start, I am done dancing.”
They shared a solemn quiet for a moment. Even the ever optimistic Niko Sasaki knew what a monumental feat such a thing would be. “Well... audition notices will flutter in any day now. Your showcase was brilliant. You are brilliant. I know you can do it.”
“I’m not so sure about that, Niko. Getting early acceptance is for the best of the best.”
“Which you are”, she insisted, but Edwin shook his head.
“It’s really not. I almost took a tumble on the last fouetté. And everybody saw.”
“You could see the slightest bit of knee-buckling from the side of the stage, that’s it. Natalie just said that to be mean.”
With a deep sigh, he allowed himself to rest his head on top of Niko’s. Her calm presence was already like a salve to his strained mind, seeping into every muscle and soothing away the pain. “Well… it wasn’t just that last fouetté.”
“You are still thinking about fractionally adjusting your hands on me for that lift.”
“Things like this can end a career. Yours, that is.” Because people like him rarely suffer the consequences of their own actions. “I was too exhausted by the time we went on together.” Because he only ever thought about himself.
“Nothing happened, Edwin. I am fine, you are fine, we are all fine… expect for the fact, that my best friend didn’t want to talk to me for two weeks.” There was a slight shaking in her normally so even tone and Edwin thought he might lie down and never get up again. What kind of villain made Niko Sasaki cry?
“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you, Niko.”
“You know, I was nervous about the showcase, too.”
“I know. But you did great.”
“I wished he could’ve been there, Edwin.” With a sniffle, she pressed herself to his side so he wrapped his arm around her, keeping her close. “I miss him so much, these days. Like… I’m in love for the first time in my life. And it’s scary and beautiful and I want to tell my dad about it…”
They held each other, sharing secrets again, as the studio grew dark around them.
Step two of Edwin Payne’s journey to get over himself, led him to the dreaded door of his father’s office, clutching a big envelope. With a certain shaking in his chest, he knocked, standing for a moment in the stunned silence of two men separated by a door who did not fully believe what had just happened. Then his father called “Yes?” and Edwin entered, steeling himself against the instant onslaught of anxiety this room held ready for him.
His father was sitting at his desk, his reading glasses perched on his nose. As Edwin entered, he just closed a folder, setting it aside to suspiciously peer at his son. “Edwin… what can I do for you?” It was as close to a what the fuck as Richard Payne would ever get.
Edwin straightened his back, trying to look professional and serious, even as he sat in the armchair opposite of the desk like a school kid waiting for a chiding from a principal. “Father–”, his voice cracked and he had to clear his throat and try again. “Father, I have a proposition for you.”
Leaning back in his chair, his father frowned at him. “How curious. Shall I get my own lawyer on the phone or –”
“I think this matter is best handled in the family”, Edwin cut him off, not allowing for his father’s attempt at quickly shutting him down by highbrow mockery. “I don’t think we will need to talk about what happened with Charles a few weeks ago. We both know what transpired. And I don’t think it is farfetched to say that it had caused a lot of trouble.” He forced himself to look his father in the eyes then, registering with discomforting surprise how unfamiliar this was to him. They seemed cast in iron. “You caused a lot of trouble.”
There was a twitch in his father’s jaw – Edwin was already putting him on edge. But it had to be said for the argument to work. “I beg your pardon?”
“You are going to sign three things for me, father.”
A raised eyebrow, taken aback and somehow still curious. “Am I?”
Patiently, Edwin nodded, placing the envelope he had been holding on the desk and sliding it over to his father, after which he neatly folded his hands in his lap before they could ball up into the fists that would betray his pokerface. “The first two are already in here. They are letters of recommendation that I have written for you to sign. One as a character testament, addressed to the board of Cambridge University. And one to the Green & Son law firm, regarding an internship for one Charles Rowland.”
His father’s eyes, formerly considering the envelope with mild interest, snapped up to Edwin’s face, darkening. “Excuse me–”
“You will do this for me”, Edwin insisted, trying to keep his voice calm and collected. With his toe on the carpet, where his father couldn’t see it, he was tapping a rhythm. One – two – three – four – five. One … “I am trying to fix your mess, father. With Charles and with mother. And me, if you care about that. If you ever had any affection towards me as your son, you will do this for me. I never ask you for anything. I’ll ask for this once.”
Anger flashed over his father’s face then, which was to be expected, and Edwin had thought he was prepared for it – but he wasn’t. “After everything I’ve given you – every last thing you own, your education–“
“None of which was ever a replacement for being a father.” Hold steadfast. Take action. “This once you can use that money for something good – something right.” Something real.
Tension turning his face and shoulders to stone, his father was considering Edwin with a new look in his eye he couldn’t quite place. “And what is the third thing you’d have me sign?”
“A check over ten-thousand pounds.”
Richard Payne was on his feet now and so was his son. “That is–”
“What you would’ve given him anyway. You wanted him gone, he is gone.”
“A deal was never struck.”
“Oh, but it was.” Breathless. He was almost breathless. Almost. Take action. “Not between you two, but between him and me.”
Finally, the rage dissipated in his father’s face, replaced by utter confusion. “...what are you saying?”
“I am saying that Charles Rowland was never my boyfriend. I hired him to inconvenience you, teach you a lesson, so to speak. The money you would pay him to leave me was supposed to be his payment.”
Shock was also a novel and strange expression on his father’s face. “How did you–”
“Certainly you are aware that I know what happened with Simon.” Silence. “Oh god, you really thought I was that stupid, didn’t you? Impressive for a man who wants me to master Cambridge Law.”
His father didn’t answer. Instead, he straightened his cuffs as he often did to buy himself time when an argument went awry. Edwin almost had him. “Well, such a ridiculous scheme between children is no basis for any claim–”
“There is a contract, father”, he lied, face smooth of any inkling of doubt. “Which is binding, as we are both legal adults. And Charles has grounds to sue us on its behalf.”
Edwin could watch in real time as his father was going through legal texts in his head, eyes turning just the slightest bit unfocused. “He refused payment.”
“Actually, he refused partial payment”, Edwin corrected, feeling the anxious trembling of his core cease in favour of a certain stability. Like it did whenever he tensed his muscles to lift himself up en pointe. “The contractual payment is set at ten-thousand pounds. How could I have known your estimate of my worth would decrease so much over the last eight months?”
“This would never hold up in court.”
“Oh, I’m sure it wouldn’t”, he conceded with a casual one-shouldered shrug, watching his father’s eye twitch in face of his impertinence. “But now I am somewhat known to the general public. A lawsuit like this would be just crazy enough to even bring the tabloids to your front desk, father. And what would your clients think about that? Teenage son of conservative lawyer hires actor to create gay scandals and humiliate family. The article basically writes itself.”
Glowering, his father lowered his voice, placing his hands on the desk and leaning into Edwin’s space as if issuing a threat. “This is blackmail.”
Unimpressed, Edwin blinked at him. “Is it? I thought it was one of those clever business strategies I learned from you.”
“You are blackmailing your father.”
“Apparently, mother is currently unwilling to confirm this. Wouldn’t that just make the whole story even more sensational?”
For an endless moment, as the clock on the wall ticked by, they held each other in a limbo of stubbornness and irritation. Edwin tapped his toe. Breathing in, breathing out. Leisurely counting to five.
“...two letters. One check.”
He had him. “Two letters, one check.”
“And you’ll talk to your mother. Tell her the truth.”
Edwin nodded – he was already planning on doing so anyway. “I will. However, I can’t guarantee she will forgive you either way.”
“But we will never speak of this again?”
“I certainly won’t.”
Another moment of silence – of father and son sizing each other up and somehow walking away with images quite different from the ones they had only a few minutes before.
“A deal is a deal.”
They shook on it like gentlemen.
Step three of Edwin Payne getting over himself started in a closet – he was aware of the irony. But this one was just for him. So, he pulled out the skirt he had stashed there over a year ago. It was a simple thing – pleated and black and knee-length. And since it was winter, he could wear it with tights – he often wore tights for performances, tights were not strange to him, tights were not scary. He would be fully covered, nothing untowards. The skirt would simply be another piece of fabric wrapped around his waist.
Repeating this in his mind over and over again, he tugged on a pair of black tights and tucked the hem of a white shirt into the waistband of the skirt. Only then did he glance towards the mirror, carefully.
Reaching his hands up to gently finger-comb his wavy hair in place, he took a deep breath. He looked … like himself. Maybe he was starting to figure out what that meant. Putting on a cardigan – something a bit longer so it might cover up the skirt a bit more, he left his room, only to almost bump into his mother in the hallway.
“Are you going out, dear?”, she asked, her voice strained. She and his father weren’t screaming at each other anymore, instead she was icing him out again – which left his father glancing pitifully in her direction now and again.
“Yes, the art exhibition at the Academy opened today, so …” He trailed off as he registered her eyes critically taking him in from head to toe.
“Darling, you can’t go out like that.” It hit him like a gut punch and for a moment he forgot how to breathe again. One – two – three – “That is simply not the right shape of cardigan for a skirt like that. No, you need something more cropped. Come with me.”
Reeling from a crisis rudely interrupted, Edwin let himself be dragged back into his room, his mother proceeding to riffle through his clothes and pick out a better sweater for him. “We really need to go shopping, dear. This is abysmal, especially if you want to expand your wardrobe to other things.”
“Sure”, he mumbled and watched her disregard several jumpers with clear distaste on her face.
“Mum?”
“Yes, dear?”
“I think we have to talk.”
Slowly, she lowered a cream-coloured pullover – the one he had worn to tea with her and Charles. It still had a stain of motor oil on the hem where his fingers had grazed Edwin’s lower back. Edwin didn’t have the heart to throw it out. Maybe someday. Probably not. It lived on the same shelf as the maroon hoodie. “What do you want to talk about, dear.”
“You know.”
“… what your father did was horrendous”, she muttered, unfolding and refolding the sweater – she had to have something to do with her hands, when she was agitated. “Although, I can’t lie to you, Edwin... I am strangely glad he got rid of that Simon. I watched you waste away with that boy for too long.”
Edwin blinked at her, stunned. That almost sounded like … “How did you know?”
She huffed a bitter laugh at him, finally putting the sweater down. “You are my son. You think I didn’t notice something was going on with you for almost two years? I was only able to put a face to the issue once you brought him home.”
With an odd cross of surprise and grief, he blinked at her. “I guess it has been almost two years since it started.” The realization rattled him hard enough, he had to sit down at the foot of his bed.
Turning towards him, her eyes found his and he was shocked to see her look at him with so much… pain. “No, Edwin. It’s been six years since it started. And four since it got worse. And two since I became afraid for you.”
The tightness was returning to his throat again, but this time it felt like something that was ready to be released. “You never said...”
“I didn’t think you’d listen. You barely talk to me.”
“I don’t know how.”
“Well…” With a sigh, she walked over and sat down on the bed next to him. He couldn’t remember ever sitting with her like this. Maybe when he was little and she had long hair and read bedtime stories to him. “I guess... let’s start small. What happened with Charles?"
“That’s not a small thing, mum. Not to me.”
“Will you tell me anyway?”
So he told her. The truth. Way more of the truth than he told his father anyway.
And just like him, she stared at her son in disbelief. “It was all fake?”
“Pretty much.”
“But…” She sputtered for a moment before shaking her head. “God, that boy must be the greatest actor of our time.”
Edwin frowned at her. “How is that?”
“Because he looks at you like you hung the stars, dear.”
In an instant, heat shot right into his cheeks, accompanied by a fraction of a memory flashing through his mind – of warm brown eyes and a shining smile. “He doesn’t.”
“He does”, she insisted, almost irritated with him. “Everybody said so!”
“Everybody?”
“Melinda Cartwright did, when I talked to her at Ascot and the other ladies certainly agreed with her. And after that little stunt you pulled at Lady Whickham’s brunch, several people were coming up to me to quite rudely quip about ‘young love’. They all said your boyfriend seems to be crazy for you – although I can’t say they meant it was a compliment. Lady Whickham herself asked me if she should pencil in a date for you to have your reception at her estate.”
Slack-jawed and suddenly alarmed, Edwin gaped at her. “Reception?!”
Casually, she nodded, not even blinking at him. “In about two years, she thinks. When the roses are in bloom.”
“What the...”
“She said the chapel in town would be lovely for the ceremony.”
“We are two men.”
“I tried to explain that, but she thinks if she starts annoying Father Jeffrey now, she can get him to budge by 2026.”
“Dear lord.” Charles could never hear about that.
A bit late after the talk with his mother, and her restyling his outfit – now with a cropped grey jumper over the white shirt, the hem floating just a fingers-width over the waistband of the skirt – Edwin arrived at the Academy to an already full auditorium. Nervously, he fiddled with his sleeves and the strap of his messenger bag and the bouquet he had brought for Crystal (because he wouldn’t dare show up without one), but he still walked in, head high and steps heavy with the chunky boots he was wearing.
The last time he had stepped foot in the auditorium, it had been for the showcase, so he had expected to feel a wave of anxiety coming over him upon entering. But the art department had transformed the space into something so different, it was like being transported into another world. The rows and rows of seating were gone and the light was dim, only broken up by spotlights placed over paintings hung up on black canvas walls, criss-crossing the space like room-dividers and multi-dimensional installations perched ontop of dark pillars or suspended from the ceiling by – probably – magic.
The guests were moving fluidly through the large room, filling it with contemplative murmurings, and Edwin let himself be swept away by them, confident he would arrive at Crystal’s spot at some point or other. He stretched to peek over the heads of the people around him, looking for Niko’s white shock of hair which usually was like a beacon in any crowd. He thought he caught a glimpse of Simon and some of his friends from the music department, but he quickly moved on – a problem for another time.
And then, finally, he saw Charles Rowland.
Who was just as devastating in his patched-up jacket and a band t-shirt with holes in the collar as he was in a designer suit – Edwin might have a preference for the former. It was honestly insulting, if one recognized how much effort it took to look like Edwin Payne. The constant hair appointments his mother pestered him to take up again, the twelve-step skin care regiment, the expensive clothes. Charles needed none of that. And he was especially beautiful that day – seeing him so quickly on the stairs of the British Library almost two weeks prior had been a shock to Edwin’s system. Now he was looking over a stream of blurry faces and he had time to watch and adore. Charles was standing next to the girls, grinning at Niko rambling happily to him and her girlfriend. It had been a while since Edwin had seen a Charles Rowland smile, and it was like looking directly at the sun. He wore heavier liner than usual, smoked out to frame his dark eyes in the most enticing way. To add insult to injury, he also hadn’t shaved in probably a few days and a bit hysterically, Edwin thought back to sitting on his lap and telling him to get rid of the stubble so he could kiss him better. Then he remembered the feeling of some roughness on the tender inside of his thigh and heat bubbled low in his stomach.
Suddenly, he really didn’t want to be here anymore – but Niko had spotted him, cheering and waving her hands for him to notice her. Charles followed her gaze and they locked eyes. For a moment Edwin considered simply turning on his heel and leaving – just as Charles had at the library. But he was here for Crystal – they were friends. Somehow. So he pushed his way through the people and towards them, Niko bouncing his way to hug him first. “I’m so happy you’re here”, she squealed, and when she let go of him, he noticed how smudged her mascara was, almost like she had been crying.
“Is everything okay, Niko?”, he asked, quickly alarmed.
“Everything’s perfect. Look.” She pointed to the black wall Crystal was standing in front of. There were three canvases lined up next to each other, swirls of paint almost impressionist in style. The first on the left was dark and blue and haunting. The second was a depiction of a tree in a myriad of purple shades, with the faint implication of a group of women sitting beneath its branches. The third painting was very different – a hurricane of bright colours and shapes creating a halo around the beautiful idea of a girl with stark white hair. A little sign next to it declared the artist as “Crystal Palace” – nothing else – and the title of the painting as “First Sight”.
Edwin blinked away the tears that were starting to blur his vision and turned to Crystal, handing her the flowers she deserved. “Marvelous.” That was all he could say. And Crystal grinned at him, wide and happy and in love with the best girl in the world.
As Niko took the opportunity to pepper her girlfriend’s face with kisses and Edwin turned away to give them some privacy, he almost jumped at how close he suddenly was to Charles, who looked at Crystal’s painting – the first dark one on the left. “Amazin’, innit?”
“Truly. I would love for Crystal to tell me more about each painting. As soon as Niko releases her from her grasp, that is.”
Charles chuckled – Edwin had missed that sound so much. “Yeah, that could take a while, mate.” He glanced towards Edwin, eyes flitting up and down his frame. “You look good.”
In a split second, heat rushed back to his face, probably turning it treacherously red. “Thank you, Charles.”
“Skirt looks aces.”
“I was nervous about it.”
“No need, mate. You could make a potato sack work for you.”
They exchanged shy smiles, before sobering up again. For a moment there was an awkward silence as they both considered the floor. Furtively studying him, as if his mind was trying to reacquaint itself with all the precious details of Charles Rowland, Edwin noticed that his nails were painted a glittering black. And with a start he noticed a new piercing, right next to the dangling earring Charles usually wore – it was a simple black stud. Edwin wanted to ask about it, but didn’t allow himself to – he had a mission.
“Charles”, he began, seemingly startling the boy out of some of his own musings. “Can we… talk?”
“Sure”, Charles answered quickly – maybe too quick – and after a brief pause in which both boys were simply staring at each other, dumbfounded they had made it that far, Edwin led the way out of the auditorium. Walking down the hallway, Charles aimed for an empty classroom – it was the art room with the dolls. “No!”, Edwin said quickly, making Charles gaze snap towards him. “Not… not in there.”
“Right.” Charles nodded, face scrunching up as he was shuffling his feet a bit. “Um – of course, I… I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or shit. If you don’t want to be alone with–”
Edwin blinked at him. “What? No. Charles, that’s–” Instead of explaining that he had issues with some places in the Academy and thus derailing the whole conversation from the get-go, he simply took Charles’ arm and dragged him into the classroom across the hall, closing the door behind them. They simply stood there for a moment until Edwin realized that he wasn’t supposed to touch Charles like that anymore, so he quickly withdrew his hand from his elbow. “Sorry.”
“All fine, mate”, Charles mumbled, his eyes straying around the room, only briefly grazing Edwin and swiftly looking away again. You deserve that. “Well… um… what do you–”
“I’m sorry, Charles.”
Charles blinked at him. “Huh?”
“For how I treated you in our last conversation” Edwin specified, making him look directly at Charles even if the boy seemed to have trouble reciprocating the eye-contact – how the tables had turned. “I… wasn’t in a good place. Which is not an excuse, simply an explanation. I was exceedingly rude to you and said things I shouldn’t have.”
With a shrug, Charles leaned against the door behind him, creating more distance between them. “I wasn’t really that level-headed either, to be fair. I was just so bloody pissed… at everything. I’m sorry about what I said to Thomas, I never –”
“What you say in confidence to other people is none of my business, Charles.”
“Still –”
“Why didn’t you tell me your father kicked you out?”
Edwin counted five heartbeats in which Charles wordlessly frowned at him before glancing away again. “Crystal shouldn’t have said anything…”
“Yes”, Edwin conceded, moving away from the door to sit on the teacher’s desk and put his bag down. There was plenty of space between them now. Space Charles needed, apparently. “You should have been the one to tell me. Why didn’t you?”
“I thought you’d just blame yourself.” Of course that was the reason. Sparing Edwin’s fragile feelings even when everything goes to shit. The Charles Rowland special.
“Well, I do.”
“Mate–”
Reaching into his satchel, he pulled out the big envelope he had picked up from his father’s office before leaving the house – doing his due diligence to check the insides before taking it with him. “I have brought some things for you today. Three, to be exact. In hopes of at least making some amends.”
Charles stared at him, half suspicious, half perplexed. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Edwin held out the envelope and after a bout of reluctance, Charles came a few steps closer to take it from him, although his face looked like he expected it to be poisonous or something.
“In this envelope there are three pieces of paper”, Edwin explained plainly. “One is a letter of recommendation to Cambridge.”
“Wait, what–”
“The other is made out to the office of Green & Son.”
“What’s that?”
“A prolific law firm. My father was an acquaintance of the old Mr. Green. Honestly, he was a quite horrible person. Rude, fraudulent and a downright alcoholic.”
“Wow, thanks man”, Charles quipped dryly, but his face was still riddled with confusion.
“The old Mr. Green died about two years ago. The practice is now run by –”
“And Son?”
“His daughter Jennifer, actually.”
“If he’s got a daughter, then why–”
“He was also a rotten misogynist.”
“Of course he was.”
“Anyway, I’ve only met Jenny Green once and she is quite severe in person, but I hear she is a brilliant woman. You will learn a lot from her and she can afford to pay you more for part-time work than dear Amir. I am sure he will understand. If he needs help finding a replacement for you, I shall see what I can do.”
At this point, Charles held up both hands and the envelope like he was trying to stop traffic. “Hold on a tick, mate. What are you saying?”
“I’m saying, you should apply for an internship with Green & Son.”
“Oi, you can’t just hand this to me–”
“I am not handing you anything. You will have to apply, get hired and do good work, so Miss Green will write you another letter of recommendation for university. I am simply trying to… make some kind of amends for the trouble I’ve caused you by holding a door for you, that would be hard to open without help. If you want to walk through it, that is your decision to make. Now, the third thing in this envelope is a check for ten-thousand pounds.”
In an instant, Charles’ face crumbled, quickly oscillating between hurt and anger. “What the fuck, mate? How often do I need to say: I don’t want it!”
Edwin steeled himself, straightening his posture on the desk and taking a deep breath. He had offended him. Again. But this wasn’t about Charles’ feelings or his pride – it was about his safety. “Why don’t you want it?”
“BECAUSE–” With a grunt, Charles slapped the envelope down on the desk and turned away from him, hands thrown in the air, walking a few steps into the middle of the classroom. “Because I don’t want you to think anyone can buy you.”
“I don’t think that, Charles.”
“And I don’t want to be part of your parent’s fucked up schemes to hurt you.”
“I am not hurt, Charles. This is my scheme, not theirs.”
He scoffed at him. “Usually you are a way better liar.”
That one stung. You deserved that. “Well... It doesn’t matter if I am hurt.”
“Why?!” The question sounded like it had been punched out of his stomach. “Why doesn’t it matter? I want it to matter to you! It has to matter to you."
“What was that thing you once said about our damage matching?”
Silence. Edwin watched Charles’ back, looking for any sign of the tension in his shoulders lessening – there was none. “This money is not break-up money, Charles.”
“Stop hustling me.”
“I’m really not.”
Quickly, Charles turned towards him, eyes wild and distressed. “Are you dating Monty?” They stared at each other, both caught of guard by the sudden change in topic – even Charles himself, blinking at Edwin in bewilderment. “Wait, that’s none of my–”, he started, just as Edwin said “I don’t.”
Another beat of strained quiet.
“This money”, Edwin continued calmly, trying to get them back on track and smooth over whatever had just happened. “– is simply what you have been promised for your services.”
Now Charles’ eyes turned incredulous – hurt. “My services?”
Maybe Edwin could only ever hurt him. But this time he had to. “You spent money on me –”
“Only for friend-stuff.”
“– and a lot of time. I know you skipped training and even work for some of the things we did.”
“Barely.”
“This is not a payment for your friendship, Charles. Or for really anything we actually did. It is the money I promised you for the time and effort you invested. I owe it to you.”
Charles scoffed, almost sneering at him. “You don’t owe me shit.”
Edwin was pretty sure he felt something shatter – more and more microscopic pieces of a looking glass that was slowly being ground into glass dust in his mind. But that was alright – he would glue it back together in his own time. “Then I just want you to have it. After everything that happened, this is not only for your sake but also for your mother’s.”
“You are not responsible–”
“I am. At least in part. Please just…” You don’t get to cry right now. This isn’t about you. “You’ve done so much for me”, he pressed through his quivering lips, hot shame burning in his face. “Let me do this for you. Just… take the envelope. You don’t have to cash the check in if you really don’t want to. You don’t have to use the letters. It’s your choice. Just… think about it.”
Quietly, they looked at each other for long enough, Edwin thought he would soon crumble under the dark gaze of Charles Rowland considering him with so much caution – and something else he couldn’t read. So much for being able to pick up on each other’s signals.
With a sigh, Charles’ shoulders slumped and he walked up to him again, taking the envelope and leaning against the desk Edwin was sitting on, right next to him, but not close enough to touch – which was a very strange feeling, since he used to always be right up against him. “How the hell did you even get your dad to agree to any of this?”
Edwin shrugged. “I blackmailed him.”
“Of course you did.”
“Told him I would cause a big scandal about our contract.”
“Contract?”
“I might’ve embellished the formality of our arrangement just a tad.”
Slowly, with quite a stunned expression on his face, Charles shook his head. “Damn, all of this… is so fucked. Why are our fathers like this?”
With his throat closing up, Edwin whispered: “I’m so–” His voice broke the same moment his vision got blurry.
“Oi… don’t.” Charles turned to look at him, hand hovering uncertainly between them. Obviously, he would try to comfort Edwin about something that had hurt him so deeply. “Don’t be sorry. Always tried keepin’ my head down, but I wasn’t any good at it, was I? Only a matter of time.” Too late. “If it hadn’t been this, it would’ve been something else."
Edwin blinked up at Charles, trying to keep it together. “If you need anything–”
Decidedly, he shook his head. “I don’t. I… I never needed anything from you, mate. Other than... well, doesn’t matter anymore, does it?”
“Charles…”
“Don’t look at me like that... I’m fine, really. No reason to get teary on me, lo–” He caught himself.
Suddenly they were so close again, Edwin could count his lashes, even as he was struggling not to break right now.
Kissing Charles that first time had been like a rush. Like the first time doing a pirouette en point and promptly losing control, simply hoping gravity was on your side in that moment. There had been the familiar anxious surge that came with a kiss, just before their lips met. And then Charles had closed the gap between them and Edwin had been confronted with the fact that kissing apparently wasn’t supposed to make you feel sick with anxiety. Good to know.
Charles Rowland kissed like he meant it. Like it was obvious. Like it was the best thing that ever happened to him and he wanted you to know just how much he wanted to please you. Every touch, every groan, every sigh, every brush of his lips seemed perfectly designed to convey the intensity of this wish. That gorgeous boy with the warm eyes that could sparkle so wickedly and the soft curls and the delicate features, brown skin tinged copper in the orange glow of Edwin’s bedside lamp… he had swept him away in the sudden realization that kissing someone could be like this. So utterly blissful and joyous. That it could make you feel both wanted and cared for and that those two notions were not incompatible. The hands on his body had been firm but not forceful, and then there had been lips on his throat and shoulder and collarbone, and he had not known how to deal with it.
After Simon, Edwin had not attempted to kiss anybody. It had always felt like he wasn’t supposed to and the thought alone had left him with a racing heart and ice in his veins. He might’ve told Charles that the boyfriend charade was all about being able to have a future romantic partner of his choosing – Edwin had wanted it to be about that. However, it was mostly about getting his mother off his back when it came to dating at all. He hadn’t been sure he could actually do that again.
But then Charles kissed him. And Edwin had been the one to ask for it, Edwin had escalated it by basically dragging Charles on top of him. And it had felt incredibly right – his mind swirling with new sensations and old one’s recontextualized and perfect warmth spreading into every pore of his body as Charles’ hot, roughly chapped lips had been burning into him, melting him, turning him liquid.
I want you.
The anxiety had come back with a vengeance. After pretty much kicking a very confused Charles out of the room – and he had been perfect about it, asking if Edwin was okay, instantly taking his hands off him, looking at him with big worried eyes, because of course Charles Rowland would be perfect about this too – Edwin had sat there, breathing slowly. The panic attack he had feared would freeze him right under Charles’ hands – and wouldn’t that have been the worst thing Edwin could’ve subjected him to? – didn’t come. Instead, he had calmed down steadily, softly touching his fingertips to his swollen lips and thinking about how deep Charles’ voice had been when he said it – I want you. And he had wondered if Charles had meant it or if the moment had simply overwhelmed him as much as it had Edwin.
The next day, they had returned to business as usual. But since then, Edwin had to live with the knowledge of how Charles’ body felt pressed to his and with a guilty conscience, he had allowed Charles to kiss him – and he did it so casually, leaving Edwin reeling with each brush of his lips. Wantonly, he had started to crave it. Just as he got way too used to being held close like something precious.
Kissing Charles at the Diamond Ball had been slow and beautiful and intentional in a way that differed so much from that first frantic kiss in his childhood bedroom at the country house. They had felt like juvenile boys sneaking about and doing forbidden things that night. But in that hallway outside the Rose Hall, with that dark glint in Charles’ eye that betrayed his casual inquiry about Monty… with the ever growing need to press closer and burning fingertips grazing his naked skin… It had felt like a grown-up kiss. The difference between like-like as Niko called it and love. Charles had said it then… had called him love… the one thing he wasn’t supposed to say, ever. Unless he meant it. Maybe he had meant it.
Now, in this sudden proximity, they found themselves alone in an empty room, and Edwin could make out a hint of cigarette smoke clinging to Charles’ familiar scent, which was new. He had only seen him smoke socially a handful of times when going out, never enough for the smell to make its home in his clothes. Up close, his eyes were just as smokey as his scent though, and they were lingering on Edwin. With a familiar pulling sensation low in his stomach, Edwin was once again confronted with the memory of lying on the floor of the dance studio, Charles cradled between his knees, his burning hands and scorching lips on Edwin’s skin, spreading a heat he had never felt before – not like this. He remembered those beautiful lips, that were now curling just a bit – probably because Charles knew very well that he was staring at them – brushing the sensitive skin of his thigh, a place he had never been kissed before. And with the bolt of an idea, both shameless and shameful, Edwin thought how easy such a maneuver would be in his current outfit. He would barely need to undress. Despite himself, his fingers curled on the hem of his skirt and with breathless anticipation, he watched as Charles’ gaze flicked from his face to his hands and back up. The way he looked at Edwin, he wondered if Charles might’ve had a very similar thought.
Just as he was gathering all his wits to get over himself once and for all – to lean in, to grip Charles by the front of his jacket and tell him I want you too – Charles stepped away. “Right…”, he turned, running his fingers through his hair as Edwin would’ve loved to do. That boy had the most beautiful hair. “So… thank you, for… all of that.” He held up the envelope, looking at it, a bit lost. “I will… think about it.”
“That’s all I ask”, Edwin said, noticing how flat his voice sounded. Quickly, he hopped off the table and walked past Charles, towards the door. This had been way too much to deal with for one day. “Thank you for your time, Charles.”
“Oi!” Surprised, almost shocked, he stopped in his tracks, as Charles caught him by the wrist, fingers encircling it. His thumb pressed firm on the tender skin right over Edwin’s pulse, which sent a nervous spark through him. Certainly, Charles would feel the treacherous pounding of his heart. His fingertip drew slight circles over that spot and Edwin had to steel himself against a shiver, wanting nothing else but Charles’ lips on that very place. There was a tentative ache between them, balancing on the fine line between pleasure and pain. As Charles averted his eyes, quickly pulling his hand away as if he had burned himself, Edwin tumbled into pain. Look what you did to that boy. Always so easy and happy to show his affection – now he’s afraid to touch you.
Charles hesitated, his face so open and confused it was obvious he was fighting with himself. When he finally continued, it was shattering: “Look–... maybe, when all of this isn’t weird anymore... I’d like to be friends with you again. Because, I think we actually were very good friends along the way, weren’t we?”
There was a question in his eyes, a begging. Edwin had to take a deep breath to keep his voice from shaking as he answered. “We were...”
Charles nodded, eyes darting to his shoes and back up at Edwin. He had never seen that boy so insecure. You did this. “Brills... then, let’s try to get back to that. At some point.”
“At some point.”
“Once my ego is healed. Might take a while, since you know it’s massive”, he joked, because of course Charles Rowland would joke about being hurt.
“Whenever you are ready, Charles. I would love to be your friend.”
Charles smiled then, and it was so brilliant, it might actually be a real one. “Yeah. Would love that too.”
As they left the classroom, Edwin thought he might have to get home and lie down for the rest of the week. Naturally, fate wasn’t that kind to him, so a few steps into the hallway, he saw Simon coming his way. “Not today”, Edwin sighed to himself and in the next moment, Charles was right by his side, squaring up as he often did. Instantly, Edwin wanted to lean into his protective presence. Let himself be propped up. “Should I–”
But he put a hand on Charles’ arm, squeezing it once before stepping away from him. “It is quite alright, Charles. You don’t have to protect me anymore. I never should have let you do it in the first place.” Edwin was pretty sure that’s where the whole thing went south, really. When he allowed the scheme to leave the perimeter of his parents and bleed into other areas of his life – or maybe that was just an excuse and it was all doomed from the start, because how could he not have fallen for Charles Rowland?
“Oi, wait!” Charles was reaching for him again, but not touching, his face strained as he looked at Simon who just stood there in the hallway, obviously waiting for Edwin to walk up to him, staring at them both with grim defiance. “Look, mate, I don’t care we had a fight or... whatever. I don’t trust that guy and no matter what happens between the two of us or what doesn’t... I’ll always want to look out for you.”
Frowning, Edwin looked up at him. “Why would you?” Did that boy learn nothing from investing so much in Edwin without receiving anything in return?
Charles blinked at him, a bit baffled. “Because I– because, you’re worth it.”
Edwin smiled, but it tasted bitter on his tongue. “I’m really not, Charles.”
And he left to deal with another issue to get over himself about.
Five minutes down the hallway at Simon’s side, Edwin had a headache and wasn’t feeling at all up to dealing with anything anymore. But Simon seemed to have picked this very moment to shoot for the stars. “You never wore a skirt for me.”
“You would’ve made it about something it is not.”
“And he doesn’t?”
“He’s not like you”, Edwin gritted through his teeth, irritation rising with the pounding in his head. “And either way, this is not about Charles. If you have any issues, talk to me. Like a person.”
Simon stopped walking, raising his brows at Edwin in mocking surprise. “Oh, suddenly you’re not hiding behind lover boy anymore?”
Trying not to roll his eyes, Edwin turned to look at him. Simon used to be way taller than him when they were younger. Now, especially with the thick soles of his boots and no longer lowering his gaze to the ground, Edwin discovered that he now had to angle his gaze down a bit to look him in the eye. “I don’t have to hide from you. I am not afraid of you anymore.”
Simon glowered at him, crossing his arms. “God damnit, Edwin, don’t be such a diva. You’re acting like I hit you or something.”
“Well, you didn’t. Not once we started kissing. You found something else to do with me.” Edwin threw the statement between them like a gauntlet and it lingered.
“You know how much you mean to me”, Simon insisted after a slight pause.
Edwin simply nodded. “I even have a precise measurement: less than ten thousand pounds.”
“You will never forgive me for that, will you?”
“That is correct.”
“I apologized!” He was getting louder, more exasperated. Edwin waited for the pang of anxiety this tone used to instill upon him. It didn’t come. He just watched a young boy having a tantrum in public. It was a bit embarrassing, to be frank.
“An apology is not a magical spell that makes people forgive you, Simon. You are a grown man, you should know that.”
“What have I ever done to–”
“You have been cruel to me”, Edwin said evenly. He wasn’t accusing – he was stating facts and those didn’t scare him. “For years. And then you used that cruelty to hurt me in a different way.”
“I was figuring out my shit, okay?”
“Which is valid and your right. It’s just not an excuse for all the harm you did to me.”
“Edwin–”
Simon took a step towards him and Edwin withstood the impulse to back away, to let himself be maneuvered into a wall. Instead, he held up a hand to stop Simon in his tracks. “No. I will no longer talk to you. Neither about this nor anything else. We are done, Simon. I will never let you near me again. If you keep being this persistent, I will–”
“What?” Simon sneered at him, obviously off his balance but still hateful and proud enough to pretend otherwise. “What can you do to me, Edwin? Run to your lawyer papa and ask him to pay me off again?”
For a moment, Edwin wondered if this was what Simon had been after all along – or if he actually wanted him back. Then he realized he didn’t much care about the answer. “No... I will talk to your mother.”
Stunned into silence for a moment, Simon blinked at him. “...you what?”
“You understand me, Simon. I will invite your mother for tea in the Ritz and I will tell her all about your behaviour towards me.”
Simon chuckled incredulously, but there wasn’t a lot of mirth behind it. “What kind of kindergarten bullshit is this? You are going to tattle on me to my mum, are you serious?”
Keeping his face impassive, Edwin nodded. “I am. And I have hundreds of text messages saved to back up my claims. You might not care much about the court of public opinion, Simon. But I am sure you will if your mother is the judge.”
By now, all the blood had drained from Simon’s face and he was looking at Edwin like he was the devil himself, come to drag him down and down and down. A rabbit hole, Edwin finished the thought with slight amusement. “You bloody–”
“I wish you the best, Simon. Let us be gentlemen about this and go our separate ways from now on. If you’ll excuse me, I am actually here to support a friend.” He turned on his heel, walking back towards the auditorium.
And finally, he left Simon behind.
Notes:
...so that might’ve gotten a bit long. Quite a rambly chapter, folks, hope you still liked it! I can only repeat: thank you all so much for reading and kudos-ing and commenting and recommending, it truly means the world! <3
Chapter 10: Falling
Notes:
Not gonna lie, folks – kinda nervous about this one. Sorry for the late update – had to edit this a few times for the maximum amount of pining. Have fun reading!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Charles Rowland was glaring at a piece of paper.
Again.
He had been doing that on and off for a solid week now, sometimes glowering for a good hour. Part of him wanted to rip the whole envelope to shreds. Most of him was a broke teenager who really needed the money, even if he was currently sitting in a luxury penthouse apartment. But bloody hell, he hated that thing. It felt like a fucking parting gift – payment for his services, as Edwin had put it. Obviously, he hadn’t meant it in any derogatory or hurtful way – didn’t keep Charles from wanting to bash his own head through a wall.
That whole conversation had been a fucking dumpster fire on a roller coaster. Because one: there was Edwin, apologizing and gifting him an envelope of opportunities and genuinely trying to make amends.
But two: there was Edwin, barely letting Charles get in a word, unwilling to talk through or even acknowledge what they were actually fighting about.
And three: there was Edwin in a bloody skirt that perfectly swished around to accentuate his naturally graceful walk, looking confident and beautiful as fuck – making Charles scramble to try and look anywhere but at the hem riding up to graze the middle of Edwin’s thigh as he sat down on that desk. Because Edwin exploring his gender expression is not for you to get horny about, wanker! But fuck, he was so pretty. And when they stood close together, closer than they had in weeks, Charles had watched with a white-hot knot in his stomach as Edwin’s fingers curled in black fabric. At that moment, he had just known that Edwin would ask him for another kiss. Which he wanted so much – and really shouldn’t do. So Charles quickly broke away. However, he hadn’t been able to stop himself from asking Edwin to be friends again – there was no way in hell he would let that boy just slip out of his life and into oblivion, as he seemed keen on doing.
Because you’re worth it – I’m really not.
Charles had left that encounter reeling, confused, angry and worried about Edwin walking off with Simon – all simultaneously. But only ten minutes later, Edwin had rejoined them in the auditorium, calmly asking Crystal to explain her creative process to him and pointedly ignoring the way Charles’ eyes drilled holes in his head.
So now here he was, sitting in a wicker chair on the rooftop veranda of Crystal’s apartment and having a rather one-sided staring contest with fucking paper. Over the last few days – and with a pack of cigarettes he was running concerningly low on by now –, he had tried to rationalise his lingering anger away. At the end of the day, Charles had made a deal with Edwin, knowing full well what the end goal was: getting the money. Back then, he hadn’t thought that much about it. Now he kinda wanted to kick his own ass for not refusing from the get-go. He had thought that whole scheme would be a fucking laugh. Which was just so bloody naive and now – huffing out smoke that mixed with his breath into a white cloud in the cold winter air – he wondered if Edwin had anticipated from the start just how messy things would get.
The glass door next to him slid open and a moment later, Crystal sat down in another chair next to him, bundled up in a big sweater and Niko’s bunny-eared slippers. “You know that shit will kill you”, she muttered gravely, picking the cigarette from between his fingers and taking a drag. “You are an athlete you shouldn’t smoke shit.”
Charles simply shrugged, not taking his eyes off the envelope in his lap. “Games only start off again in the new year.”
“You are not the type for nervous habits, Rowland.”
“Not true, I just dropped them after I met you. You’re such a good influence.”
She rolled her eyes at him, passing back the cigarette. “So is this a mental break-down about something specific or the whole fucked up situation?”
With another, more dejected shrug, he flicked some ash into a mug that had been demoted to the status of ashtray. “Both I guess.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“It’s that fucking envelope”, he sighed, holding the thing up as the source of his annoyance.
Crystal frowned at it and nodded sagely. “Ah, the ‘sorry I ruined your life’-envelope.”
“He didn’t–”
“I know that. And you know that. But I don’t think he knows that.”
“Seems like it.” Because you’re worth it – I’m really not. “It’s all so fucked, I don’t even know where to start.”
“Start what?”
“I dunno”, he muttered darkly, taking another drag off his fag to buy himself some time, letting it smoke up his insides before breathing out through his nose. It did little to calm the storm in his stomach. “Getting my shit together, I guess? Knowing what the hell I’m gonna do now that I’m away from home… which I always wanted, didn’t I? Just not like that.”
Crystal listened to him carefully, before pulling out her phone and opening her notes app. “Okay, that’s something we can work with. Let’s make a list of what needs to be done to get you sorted. What’s most important?”
“Money.”
She gave him a stern look. “Start smaller, dude. Baby steps.”
With a sigh he glanced down at the jeans he had been washing and putting back on for weeks now. Crystal had bought some stuff for him but he had told her to quit it. “Clothes. And all the other shit a person needs.”
“There you go, let’s write that down.” She typed out: Get Charles’ shit. “Next?”
“Money”, he repeated with emphasis. “Actually. Like a fucking income. No matter how many shifts I pick up for Amir, the man can barely afford to pay me at all.”
“Fine”, she muttered, typing: Get Charles a better paying job. “You gonna apply to that law firm?”
He frowned at the envelope again. Briefly, he wondered if it was healthy to have a grudge against stationary. He found he didn’t care. “Would be stupid not to, wouldn’t it? Can’t afford to have pride right now.”
“Charles...”
He waved away her concerned frown. “Oh, keep ya’ wig on, I’m just being dramatic.”
Pressing her lips together, Crystal nodded – not at all convinced but dropping the subject anyway to spare his scratched-up ego. However, she replaced it with something worse. “While we are on the topic of money–”
“Don’t”, he quickly interjected.
“Ten-thousand pounds, Charles.”
“I said no, Crystal.”
It was at that point the sliding door opened again and Niko – dressed in pastel pink pajamas – poked her head outside to blink at them. “Are you having a roomie-meeting?”
With a sigh, Crystal leaned back, the chair creaking under her. “We are having a Charles-Rowland-Bullshit meeting.”
“Oh, I love those”, Niko cooed, quickly diving back inside and returning a moment later in her big red puffer jacket, planting herself on Crystal’s lap to read over their list again. “It’s very smart to make a list, really helps to gather your thoughts”, she praised, looking over to Charles and scanning his face with an unnervingly calculating air she shouldn’t be able to produce. “What’s the next thing on the agenda?”
“Graduation”, Charles sighed, putting out the stub of his cigarette in the ash-mug. “My marks are actually aces for once, I don’t want to drop the fucking ball.”
Crystal nodded, adding Study Group and Uni Applications (Cambridge?) to the list, which made something in Charles’ gut coil and knot itself in a quite gordian manner. For a moment, Niko studied him, head tilted as if in thought, before taking the phone out of Crystal’s hand and typing: Talking to Edwin.
“Oi!”
“Charles, this is important for both of you”, Niko explained patiently. “You need to talk things through so you can move on.” The thing was, Charles had no interest in moving on. At all.
“Niko’s right, dude”, Crystal said, wrapping her arms tightly around her girlfriend to keep her in place. “You can’t keep wallowing in self-pity, you are fucking miserable.”
“I’m not!”, he protested, but the girls only shared a look.
“Riiiight”, Crystal said slowly. “That’s why I caught you in the bathroom, piercing your own ear while listening to good 4 you.”
“Olivia just fucking gets it, okay?”, he muttered, crossing his arms like a dignified man and not at all like a pouty child, thank you very much. To be honest, that hadn’t been his brightest moment, but after seeing Edwin with Monty in front of the library – it was either the piercing or biting a chunk out of a marble column. And he couldn’t really afford a dentist emergency right now. Charles still wasn’t sure if he could believe Edwin’s words about not dating Monty – and the issue still reigned way too much of his headspace.
“Not the part I was most concerned about, but okay.” Huffing out another exasperated sigh, Crystal looked over their pitifully short list. “We should probably start by getting all your shit from home. Obviously, we will go with you and at a time when your dad’s at work. We take your stuff, you say hi to your mum, and we are out of there.” Charles hesitated. He really didn’t want to go back there – he really wanted to see his mum. So eventually, he nodded his agreement and Crystal seemed pleased with that. “Good, I’m gonna rent a car.”
“The hell you will, we can just take the tube. I don’t own that much.”
“Doesn’t matter, I don’t want to drag your shit through London!”
“Well”, Niko piped up, who had occupied herself with looping a strand of Crystal’s curls round and round her finger. “We do know someone who has access to a car.”
Charles and Crystal shared a confused look. “Who?”
“Absolutely not!”
The next day, they stood outside the apartment building, Crystal and now Charles called their home, staring at the shiny black car parked before them, gleaming in the low-hanging winter sun. Leaning on the side of the car and waiting for them to get in with an impatiently raised brow, was Edwin Payne, looking like a goddamned vision. When Charles thought about hot people with hot cars, the person in question wasn’t covered head to toe in tights, shorts and a fucking prim and proper sweater-vest under a tapered wool coat – also, the car in question certainly would not be a vintage Bentley. However, the combination worked unnervingly well. Still, he needed to protest. “We are gonna get mugged if we show up with that in my street.”
“I’m sure it will be fine”, Niko said, squeezing Charles’ arm with an encouraging smile before hopping into the backseat of the car.
“The neighbors are gonna think I’m some old rich guy’s sugar baby now!”
Crystal walked past him, rolling her eyes. “Edwin’s not even that old”, she quipped before climbing in after her girlfriend.
Now it was only the two boys, staring at each other for a moment. Neither of them had probably anticipated seeing each other again that soon. The girls had tried to get all four of them together for the past week, but both boys had swerved their attempts. Until now. Charles didn’t really know how to act – they had decided on being friends again, but it was difficult to glean what that would entail. Before their ruse started they had often joked with each other, Charles half-seriously flirting and Edwin snarking. But they had kept doing that during the whole scheme and sometimes leading up to – well… breathing, touching, kissing, sighing …
That being said, Charles was seriously considering just blowing the whole thing off. “How did you even get your dad to lend you the car for this?”
“I didn’t ask.” Edwin shrugged and that was the end of the conversation. He straightened to open the passenger door, gesturing towards it silently. With a huff and a sigh to illustrate his soured mood, Charles got in. Only to instantly regret it, because when Edwin took the drivers’ seat he was way closer than he had anticipated. Watching Edwin’s elegant fingers wrap around the wheel and stick shift to get them moving, Charles was confronted with the insane notion of driving being actually kind of hot – god, he was such a mess.
He stood in front of his childhood home for several minutes, just looking. It was strange to think of it like that. Not his home, but his childhood home. Something solely belonging to a period of his life that had officially ended the moment his father had slammed the door shut behind him.
One step behind, the girls and Edwin were patiently waiting for him to move forward. Drawing out the inevitable, Charles turned slowly to take in the street. It was empty right now, besides them and the old Mr. Gibbons walking his dog Nancy, a slumping, graying retriever – Charles used to climb over Gibbons’ fence to pet her and play catch when she was a young dog and he was about ten years old. The sludge of London winters – part leaves, part snow, part rain – had washed away the sidewalk chalk drawings of summer. His eyes snagged on Edwin, who was considering his parent’s house with thoughtful interest. Charles wondered what it might look like to him. If he had some kind of revelation about Charles’ upbringing as he once had, upon seeing the Payne’s townhouse for the first time.
Then he caught Crystal’s eye and she nodded earnestly for him to go on. With a deep, not at all calming breath, Charles turned, took the few stone steps up to the front door – froze, just for a second – and rang the bell. A few heartbeats of silence followed and a tiny, cowardly part of his brian told him to get the fuck out of there. Then he nearly jumped as the door opened.
For a moment, his mum and he only stood face to face, staring.
Then Charles whispered “Hey, mum…” and it shook her out of her stupor.
“Beta”, she breathed and pretty much fell forward to throw her arms around him. Charles hugged his mother tight and noticed – not for the first time –, that she was starting to feel very small in his arms. He remembered being little and having to reach his arms up and up for her to lean down for a kiss on his cheek.
“Are you okay?”, she asked frantically, holding him by his arms to let her wet eyes rush over him. “Are you eating right? Are you sleeping well? How is school? You do go to school, right?”
“Mum, mum, let me breathe”, he chuckled, squeezing her arms. “I’m fine, promise.” Untangling himself from her, he nodded to the others. “You remember these guys? Crystal, Niko and Edwin.”
“Of course.” His mum smiled at the three who sheepishly waved hello. “Come in, come in, I’ll make tea.”
“No tea, mum”, Charles decided. “We’re not staying.”
The look she gave him was downright heart-shattering, all wide eyes and a trembling lip. He felt like a fucking villain. “You’re not?”
“Just here to get my stuff, mum.”
“Your... oh.” She pressed her lips together tightly and nodded, standing aside to let them in.
As Crystal passed her, she smiled and said: “I’m sure we will take a bit to get everything packed. Some tea after would be lovely, Mrs. Rowland.”
Charles watched as his mother’s face brightened and she quickly vanished into the kitchen. He threw Crystal a frown, but she only flipped him off, muttering: “Don’t be a dick, your mum misses you.”
“I miss her too, but I don’t want to risk being here when he comes home, do I?”
“If he does”, Edwin chimed in, his eyes already scanning the hallway as if he was trying to impress everything upon his memory. “I am sure Niko will start a distraction, leaving Crystal and me to sneak you out.”
“On it!”, Niko promised with a salute, leaving Charles to sigh and give in. He did that a lot these days.
While his mother started to put something together for tea, he led his friends down the steep, narrow flight of stairs to the cellar and through another door into his room. It was messy and his ears got a bit hot about that, but at least his mother seemed to have picked up the laundry while he was gone. A basket with washed clothes was sitting on his bed as if waiting for him to come home and do his chores. With some relief, he noted that his father hadn’t worked out his issues on Charles’ belongings. Not this time.
A bit lost, he stood in the middle of the room, looking around. “Right... I guess we should start with clothes and schoolbooks?” It was as good a starting point as any.
They folded up some boxes Crystal had gotten for them and started on Charles’ closet. He didn’t take everything, leaving behind things that were too small (the girls rescued some shirts for themselves) or the dress shirts his father made him wear to church on holidays. Crystal vetoed a few things she always thought were “ugly as fuck”.
A sudden rush of embarrassment came over Charles, as he realized that at some point Edwin would probably see his underwear – and not in the way he had planned on. But when he glanced at the other boy, he wasn’t paying attention to the clothes at all. Edwin stood at the other side of the room in front of Charles’ small shelf, a little pile of books in his hands – the crime novels Edwin had given him shortly after they had met. Absentmindedly, he considered the bookmark stuck somewhere in the middle of 4.50 from Paddington before putting them into the box at his feet.
As Charles watched him, Edwin let his eyes wander over the walls of his childhood bedroom with as much awe and reverence as one would pay the stained-glass windows and gilded stucco of a baroque church. Charles followed his gaze, trying to see the room with his eyes and found that he couldn’t. He didn’t see the tapestry of overlapping band posters – he saw his father shouting about the sticky tape residue on the wall. He didn’t see the sports trophies – he remembered all the shame whenever he lost. He didn’t see the pictures with friends – and Edwin did neither, because Charles had thrown them all away and he hadn’t put up any new ones of him and Crystal, because he never wanted to bring her into this house. Well, here they were now. He wondered what exactly Edwin saw that was so precious.
After putting away his clothes and books, they walked upstairs to bring the first boxes to the car.
Charles’ mum stood in the door frame of her kitchen, watching them with sorrowful eyes. She blinked away the already forming tears to look up at him as he walked past. He should probably say something. But he kept on walking. It wasn’t fair – to either of them. He really wanted to see his mother, hug her, talk to her. But back in this house, he couldn’t help but taste the bitterness of her choosing his father over him. Again. Which wasn’t at all how those things worked and he knew that. As established: It wasn’t fair.
Charles left the girls to play Tetris with his boxes and the way too small trunk of the Bentley and followed Edwin back inside. They still hadn’t said a lot to each other and the air between them was starting to feel suffocatingly tense. Silently they walked down the tight staircase, when all of a sudden, Edwin flinched back, bumping right into Charles. Before he could ask him if everything was okay, a red-faced Edwin turned around to stammer an apology, taking a half-step back. And with a downright comical squawk, Edwin Payne – of all fucking people – lost his balance.
“Oi!” Quickly, Charles grabbed Edwin, catching him around the waist to keep him from falling. “Careful there, those stairs are a fucking death trap. It’s a wonder I never broke my neck coming down here at night. Or when drunk. Or at night and drunk.”
A bit late, he registered that Edwin was not following his joke or basically anything he said at all. Instead, he was staring at Charles, cheeks red and eyes wide as if shocked by their sudden proximity. That’s when Charles realized that he had his arm still slung around Edwin, pressing him close to his chest. Maybe in an attempt to catch himself, Edwin had grabbed for him and his fingers were still curled in Charles’ shirt. They should really get their hands off each other... Charles didn’t want to. And seemingly, Edwin wasn’t even considering the option.
“You good?”
“Y-yes. I just got startled by...” The way he trailed off and flushed an even deeper crimson, Charles got a bit suspicious.
“By?”
“A spider”, Edwin pressed through his teeth indignantly, pointing up to the sloped ceiling above them where indeed a little spider – maybe as big as a one-pound coin – had made a net for itself.
Charles blinked at it and then slowly looked back down to the boy still clinging to him like his life depended on it.
“Edwin.”
“No.”
“Are you afraid of spiders?”
“No!”, he huffed out, but still didn’t let go of Charles, rather shrinking even more into him as he eyed the spider taking a leisurely stroll around the perimeter of its net. “I just think they are horribly ghastly creatures with way too many legs. No living thing should have this unholy number of legs!”
“Sure, mate”, Charles chuckled. “Now, we have two options here: Either you unhand me, so I can get rid of the spider, or we stay like this until we merge into one person. I’m good either way.”
Quickly enough that he almost took a tumble again, Edwin let go of him, stuttering another apology before swiftly descending the rest of the staircase while Charles gently cupped the spider in his hands and walked back upstairs to let it escape through the living room window.
As he returned to his room with the distinct physical impression of Edwin’s body pressed close to his, his face turned instantly hot as he saw him sitting on the bed, legs neatly crossed, folding his fucking laundry to put it away into another box. “Mate, you don’t have to do this.”
“If everything is folded flat, it will fit better”, Edwin argued, and as Charles came closer to take his bloody Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle shirt out of his hands (faintly registering that this was the very shirt he had worn when they first kissed which was not at all something to have feelings about right now), Edwin’s eyes snapped up with a glare. “Don’t you dare touch me after you touched a spider, Charles Rowland!”
Charles blinked at him. “Not sure arachnids are contagious, mate.”
“Still, keep your spider-hands to yourself.”
A grin spread over Charles’ face and he couldn’t help it: he reached out for Edwin’s face, instantly causing him to let the shirt drop to the floor in order to scramble back on the bed. “Charles Rowland, I am warning you!”
“Spider-haaaaands!”, Charles zombie-groaned, placing a knee on the bed and grabbing for him.
Quick and effortlessly elegant, Edwin rolled to the other side of the mattress to avoid being caught, holding out a leg to keep his attacker at bay. Despite his front of indignation, he was giggling just as much – and just as idiotic – as Charles did. “Keep away, you fiend!”
Dodging the foot coming his way, Charles got Edwin by the ankle, which was all he needed to haul the boy back towards him, sprawled flat on the matress. With the most idiotic grin, Charles crouched over him, wiggling his fingers in front of Edwin’s face. “Ha! Got ya’! Prepare for the wrath of the spider-hands!”
Edwin raised his brows at him in challenge, which was the only warning Charles got before long, lean legs wrapped around him. In the next second, he hit the floor with an audible “ooofff”, Edwin on top of him. They blinked at each other and Edwin tilted his head with a winning smile. “Ha”, he repeated back to Charles, before sitting up, and straightening his sweater.
Charles stared in amazement. “Your legs are strong as fuck, mate”, he stated dumbly.
Edwin simply shrugged. “Dancer, remember?”
“You think you could squish a watermelon between your thighs?”
With bewilderment, but also what seemed like genuine curiosity, Edwin considered the question. “I... don’t think so. I do not have the fruit-squishing sort of muscle, I’m afraid.”
“Bet you could squish my face if you wanted to.”
Edwin blinked at him. “What?”
Instant mortification. “What?”
“What?” Their heads snapped up to look at Crystal standing in the doorway, arms crossed and a giggling Niko behind her. “Stop being thirsty and get to work Rowland!”, she chided, causing Edwin to quickly scramble off him. Charles was itching for a cigarette.
It took them a good hour to sort through Charles’ measly belongings and decide what part of his life to take and what to leave. Thankfully, he managed to distract the others with the grass in his sock drawer long enough to discretely hide the condoms and lube he had stashed under his bed in one of the boxes. Although, when he looked up, he crossed Niko’s bemused gaze. So, he had been partially successful.
After they squished the very last box into the Bentley’s trunk, his mother called them in for tea. As it turned out, she had taken the hour to bake a batch of ginger-tumeric-biscuits – because she was just that kind of person. Sending the others off to sit down in the dining room, Charles joined her in the kitchen. The warm tones and smells of this room always managed to sooth away his tension – even today. Since they had company, his mother got out the whole spices to brew masala chai – some cardamom capsules, cloves, a stick of cinnamon and an inch of ginger to boil with the tea leaves.
“Where are you living now, beta?”, she asked, keeping her eyes on the simmering pot as if she couldn’t face the answer. “With your boy?”
“He’s not mine, mum.”
She blinked rapidly, like something in his tone had alarmed her. “I thought he was special to you?”
“He is. But... turns out I’m not that special to him.” Shame rising in his throat, he realized how chocked up his voice suddenly was.
His mother frowned at him but not in irritation. “Oh, I don’t believe that. Just look at your boy, beta.” And with a gentle hand she turned his face for him to see through the kitchen door and into the dining room beyond the hallway. Edwin was sitting at the table, a biscuit in hand, brown sugar stuck to his fingers and... watching them. As their eyes met, Edwin’s ears flared pink and he quickly looked away to listen to the girls’ conversation.
Charles’ gaze lingered on him.
“Is that a boy who’s not in love?”
He made himself look away. “Doesn’t matter now. As I texted you, I’m crashing with Crystal at her parent’s place – that wasn’t a lie. She says it’s fine for me to stay until graduation.” Actually, she said it was fine as long as he wanted. But Charles needed a foreseeable end to this.
“Well, that’s kind of her”, his mother mumbled, pouring milk in the pot. She always let it boil to the top at least two times – said it increased the flavour. “Do you... not want to come home anymore, beta?”, she asked and her voice was so careful it hurt. “I’m sure your father–”
“No, mum.” She flinched and he felt so sick about it. “I can’t come back and you know it. He’s going to kill me one of these days.”
“He wouldn’t...” She didn’t sound convinced. Charles would’ve liked it better if she had believed it. At least then there would’ve been an actual reason for her to stay.
“You don’t even sound like you think that. He’s your husband. If you think he is capable of seriously hurting someone–... I’m your child.” Oh, he hated this… so much. The way tears were burning in his eyes, the knot deep in his stomach. He never wanted to blame his mother for things outside her control – but god, did he wish she would take control one of these days. If not for him, then for herself.
“I know”, her voice broke and Charles reached past her to take the pot off the heat before wrapping her up in his arms.
She sobbed sorries into his shoulder. And “I love you”, which was a simple truth he would never question. His mother – with her big heart and warm hugs and sad eyes – always said I love you as easily as she said Hello. His father said it like You owe me.
Once she could gather herself enough to be embarrassed and frazzled about crying in the earshot of guests, Charles helped her serve the chai. Watching his mother pour Edwin a cup and put another biscuit in his hands so he couldn’t refuse – Edwin thanking her with an overwhelmed but brilliant smile – Charles remembered fantasizing about bringing him here. That pale, thin, polite boy – he had known from the start his mother would adore Edwin. Of course the fond fantasy shattered as his mother scurried off to get the dreaded baby pictures. Judging by Crystal’s grin, he would never live that down.
They were just about to leave, when his mother called out to him again. “Oh, beta, I nearly forgot! A woman called for you.”
Surprised, he blinked at her. “A woman?”
“Yes. Someone named, um… Mrs. Whickham?” Charles gaped at his mother, who looked just as confused as he was. “She wanted to know if you can make it to her… ah, her New Years luncheon?”
Slowly, Charles turned to Edwin, simply asking: “How?”
“She has her ways”, Edwin muttered, cheeks fire-engine red. “Don’t worry, I shall fill her in on the situation. At least Father Jeffery will be free of her.”
“Father who?”
“Don’t worry about it!” Edwin’s voice was a bit too loud to be casual, but Charles decided he better not ask.
His mother walked them out to the car and they hugged one last time. “Will you come by sometime?”, she asked hopefully.
“I dunno, mum.”
“We… we could meet in the city then?”
“Dad wouldn’t like that.”
He watched as that fact visibly drained the light from her eyes and she shifted as if suddenly uncomfortable. “Well… maybe he doesn’t have to know.”
“That’s not a good idea, mum. Don’t want to give you any more trouble, do I?” Her pleading eyes didn’t make it easy for him to leave again. “Look, I will try to visit, okay? And we can text. Just… be careful… and know that wherever I am, you’ll have a place there.”
One last hug – this time for real.
Edwin drove them back to Crystal’s place and helped them unload the boxes into the guest room that was now designated Charles’ room semi-permanently. They put up some of his posters to make it official. Once they were finished, Charles looked at his friends with a smile – and it felt like a real smile. Hadn’t had a lot of those lately. “Thank you guys. Meant a lot, really. What do you say, let’s crash Dayita’s for some dinner?”
The girls agreed excitedly, scrambling out of the room to change, but Edwin shook his head, a certain tension in his shoulders. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to join you.”
“Oh…” Charles tried and probably failed to hide his disappointment. “Sure. Training?”
Edwin avoided his eyes, considering his hands curling into fists by his stomach. “...no.”
A cold, foreboding sensation took hold of Charles’ neck, before a spike of that uncomfortable feeling shot through him – the one he only got when Edwin was involved. “You... got a date or something?”
At this, Edwin’s head snapped up to glare at Charles. “What? Charles, no! I–… I’m going to therapy.”
Staring at each other, both boys flushed under the pressure of sudden awkwardness.
“Oh... um... that’s great, mate. Good on you.”
“Well... we will see. It is going to be my first session”, Edwin muttered, straightening his sweater-vest and clearing his throat. “And I am a bit skeptical. But lately even the universe seems to be telling me to get some help, so…”
Judging by Edwin’s grim expression, Charles was pretty sure he missed some context here, but he was mostly preoccupied with taking a deep breath to calm himself after that irrational spike of jealousy. He’s not mine. “I think it’s great, mate. Seriously. I’m proud of you.” And he meant it, he really did. Sometimes he wished he could be as brave as Edwin Payne.
A bit shy, Edwin smiled at him – insecure, but still so wonderfully unapologetic. “Thank you, Charles… And …” He hesitated for a moment, before looking at him, suddenly quite serious. “You remember me saying that I’m not dating Monty?”
Charles sputtered a bit, trying to evade his gaze – but how could he not look at Edwin when he was right there? Explaining himself to Charles as if he owed him anything. Yes, seeing those two together – Edwin smiling so easily after Charles had worked so hard to get just a smirk in the beginning – felt pretty much like a sucker-punch right to the face. But Charles had no fucking right to ask about it … he still did though, because fuck him. “But you went on a date with him, didn’t you?”
Edwin considered this for a moment, tensing up again. “...maybe. I’m not sure if it was a date. We met for tea.”
Okay. Sure. Charles could be cool with tea. No issues with tea here, no sir. Still, “‘You kiss him?”
“Of course not!” Edwin sounded almost offended and Charles scrambled to quickly get his head out of his own ass.
“I mean... you could’ve, you can kiss whoever you want, I’m not–”
“I don’t want to kiss anyone but–”
Neither of them took a breath. Charles could only study Edwin’s face, growing pink again, and he looked so earnest it was going right through Charles’ heart and into his head, making it swim. He wanted Edwin to finish his sentence so badly, but it didn’t seem like he would. So Charles simply said “Good.” And that was it.
For a teen getting kicked out of his home, Charles was doing alright for himself – mostly because of Crystal, to be frank. But he thought he was dealing quite well in any case. Slowly over the weeks, he had become accustomed to the lack of anxious tension in his chest that seemed to have been a product of simply living in the same space as his father – although he had to wonder if that was also what his mum felt all the time, so he made a point out of texting her every day and if only to send her a stupid photo of him and the girls – girls, plural, since Niko seemed to basically be the third inhabitant of the Surname-von-Hovercraft household, only sparsely returning to her room at the Academy dorms whenever she had to pick up more clothes or simply needed a bit of time to herself.
Charles and Crystal turned out to be quite good roommates, actually. They cooked and ate together almost every night, doing the dishes while singing along to old songs. Although Charles would never get used to the cleaning staff waltzing into the apartment and basically renovating it every two days – he tried his best never to leave any big mess for them to deal with.
He was keeping up with schoolwork for once – although he had to admit that right now there was little else going on for him. Work and school and training – that’s about it. Oh, and one other thing: dreaming of Edwin Payne. Somehow that was still an issue even after almost a month of separation – hell, could he even call it that? Was it possible to break up without ever dating? It kinda felt like it was. And the girls were no help in the matter – they actively worked against him.
When Crystal had typed out the idea of a study group, Charles had not anticipated it to be a scheme to get him into the same room with Edwin over and over. He wondered if that had been Crystal’s primary intention or if Niko simply co-opted her idea for her own evil ways. Either way, in the following week, they met up in the British Library three times to study before exams would start in the new year. To his surprise, Charles realized that the Academy folks had way more catching up to do than he did, since the showcase and the gallery had taken so much time, and they still had to juggle regular lessons simultaneously.
So, while the others were glued to their books, Charles was sitting at one of the library’s computers, anxiously typing out his first ever resume. Trying to come up with a way to make himself sound less pathetic. Yes, he had good grades by now and a fucking golden ticket in the form of that letter printed on Payne company paper. But other than that, he had nothing to offer other than experience in sports and working at Amir’s. Not really law firm material. Printing the pitiful thing had his neck downright burning with embarrassment. He stood there with the paper in hand for a whole minute, before he got the courage to walk up to Edwin, who had spread his books out over a whole table, eyes glued to probably ten different pages at once.
“Oi”, he whispered, sitting down next to Edwin, who looked up at him quizzically as Charles placed the papers in front of him. “Can you like… read this over for me and tell me if it’s bad?”
“Of course”, Edwin conceded, eyes lighting up as he saw the address on top of the cover letter. “You are applying to Green & Son.”
“Yeah …” Sheepishly, he scratched his neck. His shoes were suddenly very interesting. “It would be stupid to waste an endorsement by someone like your dad, I guess. And I kinda need the money.” He could feel Edwin’s eyes nearly drilling into him, so he stood. “Just, um–… cross out anything that makes me sound like a nut. I’m gonna–” He made a vague gesture, hopefully conveying a smoke break before quickly walking off. He couldn’t bear the idea of sitting there while Edwin was reading that application. Surely, he would be kind about it, but the thought alone still made him cringe.
Outside the library, he dug in his pockets for cigarettes, frowning when he realized the pack was empty – again. He should really get that shit under control.
“Charles?”
A bit startled, he looked up to see none other than Mrs. Payne walk up the steps, obviously just as surprised to see him as he was. She glanced at the library’s entrance. “Is Edwin still here? I was thinking of taking him to get dinner.”
“Um–” Marvelously eloquent, Charles. You should join the debate team. “Yeah, he’s inside.”
“Good.” She didn’t walk in. Instead, she looked at him, face strained and hands fussing with the sleeves of her beige coat. He was pretty sure she was working herself up to something, so he patiently waited until she asked: “Could I have a moment of your time, Charles?”
“Not sure I want to talk to you, lady.”
She winced, nodding slightly. “I understand. Just… I wanted to apologize.”
He nearly dropped his lighter. “Huh?”
“I…” She sighed, irritated but probably more with herself than with him, taking a few steps away from the entrance. And since there was no way he would miss Mrs. Payne stumbling through whatever she deemed an apology, Charles followed. They settled against the wall of the library, standing side by side rather than facing each other.
“Do you mind?” She asked, holding up a little chrome case Charles at first thought was probably powder until she opened it to reveal a neat row of cigarettes.
“Not if I can bum one.”
She frowned at him, putting one between her lips. “You are way too young for such ghastly habits.”
“And how old were you when you started that ‘ghastly habit’?”
Grumbling something unintelligable, she handed him a cigarette and leaned in for Charles to light hers. For a while, they just stood next to each other, backs against a grand institution, smoking in surreal companionable silence. Mrs. Payne was the first one to break it with a huff of smoke streaming out her nostrils – which, Charles was sure, she would consider quite unladylike in any other circumstances. “I didn’t know about the bribe.”
Charles blinked at her, mentally putting together the pieces. “You really didn’t, did ya’?”
“Needless to say, I am quite cross with my husband at the moment”, she grumbled, frowning at the grey steps in front of them. “And I advised him to put a couch into his office at the firm if he ever wants to sleep in peace again.”
“You scatterin’ pins on his side of the bed or somethin’?”
“Edwin’s old legos in his slippers, actually.”
“Damn, you’re mad mad.”
Sighing out more smoke, she slouched against the wall in her back – Charles hadn’t even been aware she could slouch. He had thought someone had simply welded her spine into a straight-up rod. “I just wanted to say, that I am sorry, Charles. Edwin explained the whole ruse to me, so I know getting the money was actually your goal... but I still think the offer was crass and insulting.”
That did surprise Charles – he knew Edwin had unveiled their scheme to his father. He hadn’t expected him to tell his mother the truth as well. “Well, both you and your husband have been mostly crass and insulting to me the whole time, so that’s pretty much par for the course.”
Grimacing at her feet, she nodded. “I guess you are right. I should also apologize for my behaviour. I was so worried about Edwin... he’s very unlike most young men in our circles.”
“Because he’s gay?”
“Because he’s not afraid to be different”, she corrected flatly. “Or brave enough to get over that fear. I never was, so it’s hard to see your kid be that brave. The world can be so cruel to people like him.” She glanced at Charles before taking another drag, quickly burning through the cigarette. “And people like you, I reckon. I was cruel to you because I thought you would hurt Edwin, whether on purpose or by virtue of simply being different from us... Edwin and I... we have been talking a lot more recently, so he explained to me how hateful I was.”
“I don’t know if hateful is the right word”, Charles interjected. Suddenly, that beige woman he had come to despise just seemed horrendously tired to him. “Fearful more likely.”
“That’s a kind way to look at it”, she muttered, chewing on her lip. “Edwin said you were kind. Either way... I don’t know why you refused the money, but I am thankful you did.”
“Well, Edwin–”
“I know he gave you a check. But that’s different. It was his decision, not Richard’s. I think that’s important.”
“I guess”, Charles murmured, although the thought of that check still felt like acid to his stomach.
“Edwin misses you, you know?”, she said then and it hit Charles like a brick to the teeth. “He was… quite emotional about everything that happened.”
“Yeah.” His voice suddenly scratched his throat. “Me too.”
“I know it is none of my business–”
“Correct.”
“–but I want my son to be happy. I think you made him happy.”
“Well… I also made him cry, so that means shit.”
They stood outside the library for a while longer, silently smoking with each other. Charles would probably never be quite friendly with Mrs. Payne. But at least they could agree on that one thing: Edwin Payne deserved to be happy. Whatever that meant.
With Christmas only a week away, Charles had expected to feel melancholic – but he had never really cared about the holidays, so fuck that. They were only an excuse for his dad to drag his mother and him to church, so they could shiver in the pews and make him feel faithful before getting drunk on mulled wine and eggnog.
Thus, instead of succumbing to the holiday spirit, Charles asked his mum to send him some recipes and paid way too much money on proper ingredients to cook for his friends. He even asked Niko to invite Edwin and seeing him standing at the kitchen island, dicing fresh tomatoes with the timid air of someone who had never prepared a meal in his entire life but was doing his level best, seemed way more important than any holiday involving trees and some god Charles didn’t even believe in. In comparison, he very much believed in the reality of Edwin Payne in a fucking dark blue and cream plaid skirt that hugged the slight curve of his hips way too perfectly. It wasn’t like there was any bare skin to oggle (although that fact did nothing to deter Charles from oggling) – Edwin was strict about wearing tights and big, comfy sweaters to cover up, which might be the only reason Charles could still function around him.
The girls were in the living room, bickering about which bad movie to pick for after dinner, so Charles and Edwin were alone, working off his mother’s recipe in a sort of silence that could almost be considered comfortable. Tasting a spoon full of lentils, Charles frowned at the pot he had been stirring for ten minutes now. Maybe the melancholy did catch up to him then – it wasn’t awful, but it didn’t taste right. Didn’t taste like his mum made it, that is.
Edwin spoke up then, shaking Charles out of his contemplation, and he instantly caught on to the slight quiver in his voice. “I am glad this is working.”
Charles looked over his shoulder towards him. “The curry?”
“This”, Edwin repeated, keeping his eyes on the cutting board. “Us… being friends. I…” He cleared his throat and to Charles’ horror his lips trembled, as if he was on the verge of tears. “I thought we couldn’t go back to this”, he confessed so quietly to the tomatoes. “I hurt and offended you so much and... and you could barely look at me when we talked at the Academy and–”
Charles groaned. Why the fuck was he such a mess? “Mate, no, that’s–…” He would have to say it, wouldn’t he? With a deep sigh he prepared himself for humiliation. “I tried not looking at you then because... god, fuck me, honestly… because you looked hot, and I was trying not to leer at you like a creep while we were trying to have a conversation!”
Finally, Edwin turned his head to frown at Charles as if he was speaking in tongues. “What are you talking about?”
“The fucking skirt, mate!” A bit frantically, he used the wooden spoon he had been using to stir the lentils, to gesture at Edwin’s current outfit – admittedly, splattering the formerly spotless kitchen tiles. The tumeric would stain the grout yellow for the rest of eternity.
“Oh…” In an instant, Edwin’s cheeks were blooming just as red as the produce in front of him. “Oh. You... you think it’s…?”
If the burning sensation in Charles’ face was anything to go off, they were both now standing there, blushing like the pathetic teenagers they were. “Of course I do”, he gritted through his teeth. No way to back out now, he had to face the embarrassment head on at this point. “You look so bloody confident, and all pretty and shit… it’s fucking with my head.”
He could basically see the gears turning in Edwin’s genius brain, proverbial steam puffing out his ears as he put Charles’ words together to form a conclusion. “You... you actually think I am attractive?”
Charles gaped at him. There was a distinct dropping sensation in his stomach – like in one of those dreams he had, in which he slipped on a banana peel and fell into a canyon. What the fuck had he been doing the past months, if Edwin hadn’t even picked up on that? “Obviously, mate... what– how can you not know that by now?”
The flush in Edwin’s face turned quite a festive scarlet. “I just–... I don’t–”
Incredulously, Charles could only brandish the spoon at him like an accusation. “Didn’t I tell you I thought you were fit? I distinctly remember calling you pretty to your face!”
“Well... yes, but you are always joking, so…” His sentence drifted off as Charles just kept staring at him in disbelief.
“You thought I was joking? The entire time?”
“You are quite the unserious person, Charles”, Edwin defended himself, bristling. “It is hard to keep up!”
Shaking his head, Charles walked up to him like a man on a mission, Edwin’s eyes widening at his approach. “Well, let me say this now – seriously.” He pointed the spoon at him with emphasis. “I think you are fucking gorgeous. Like… the most beautiful fucking person I’ve ever seen.”
“Statistically improbable”, Edwin muttered, shocked eyes never leaving Charles’ face.
“Remember, I suck at math. In any case–” Without even thinking too much about it – because apparently, Charles Rowland was a maniac – his free hand found the hem of the skirt, tugging at it just a bit and brushing Edwin’s thigh in the process. A low, breathless gasp fell from Edwin’s lips. “If you ever want to shut my brain down permanently, you know what to wear, sweetness.”
They stared into each other’s eyes for a few more heartbeats, until Edwin slowly turned back to the kitchen island, brushing against Charles, who only now realized how close they were standing.
“Always good to have a contingency plan”, Edwin muttered, and Charles took that as his sign to leave him be.
Walking back to the stove, something inside of him shuddered. He wasn’t supposed to touch or even flirt with Edwin, who had clearly told him to leave him alone. But he struggled to feel that guilty about it, when Edwin looked at him with eyes so burning.
When the very stuttery lady called and asked him to come in for an interview the next day, it had taken Charles a while to realize what was actually happening. And he had instantly felt like throwing up. Crystal resolutely got one of the suits her father had left behind in her parent’s closet and forced Charles into it. It was a dark gray colour and way too tight around the shoulders for comfort, but at least he would look somewhat presentable. He tried to comb his hair, but only managed to make it look frizzy. Good start.
The law firm of Green & Son was located on the top floor of one of the more modern buildings in London that had squeezed themselves into the narrow spaces between Tudor and Victorian architecture. Upon entering the offices, he was greeted by a blonde woman sitting behind a reception desk, who seemed infinitely more nervous than Charles himself. “Ms. Green will come to greet you shortly”, she promised – at this point Charles was sure she had been the one calling him yesterday –, pointing him to a black leather armchair vis-à-vis her desk. Sitting down and trying his very best not to faint right then and there, he let his eyes wander to take in his surroundings. There was a lot of polished chrome and black wood and spotless glass – an overly modern place that could use a plant or two, but way darker in décor than he had anticipated. Black frames on the walls were displaying some anatomical drawings Edwin would probably be fascinated by – personally, Charles was a bit creeped out.
Then there was the distinct sound of heels clacking down the polished hardwood floors and a woman turned the corner into the foyer. She was way younger than Charles had expected, maybe ten years his senior max. Her hair, her makeup and the fitted suit she wore were all stark black – her ears were pierced several times and there were tattoos peeking out from her collar. “Jenny Green”, she said flatly, holding out her hand, and Charles almost stumbled in his haste to stand and take it.
“Charles Rowland. Nice to meet you.”
She eyed him suspiciously, like she was trying to look straight into his head. “We’ll see”, she grumbled and Charles was a bit surprised to realize her accent was American. “Follow me.”
Following her down a narrow hallway, Charles glanced back one last time to the nervous blonde secretary. The way she stared after Ms. Green was a bit creepy.
Ms. Green led him into what must be her office – a lot more anatomical drawings and (quite concerningly) sketches of big knives – were lining the walls and large windows opened up to a quite impressive view of winter-gray London. As Charles took the seat offered to him opposite the desk, he had the distinct impression that Ms. Green was sizing him up. “You are not what I expected from a recommendation by Richard Payne”, she finally said, to which Charles simply shrugged. What could he even say to this? “I expected someone …”
“White?”
“Yes.” Well, at least she was honest. “White and able to buy himself a well-fitting suit”, she added, eyes snagging on the fabric straining around his shoulders.
“Sorry to disappoint”, he bit out, heat already creeping into his neck.
“Don’t be”, she muttered, finally sitting down herself. “Richard Payne is a fucking prick.” As she said it, she looked him straight in the eye and Charles was so caught off guard, he just blurted out: “He fucking is, isn’t he?”
“So how come he’s recommending you to me? Someone with experience in–” Ms. Green reached for a folder in front of her and with a start he realized it was his resume. “–fixing cars and selling groceries.”
Oh well, this was starting up horrendously. No use in hiding who he actually was. “To be honest, I guess it’s more his son that’s recommending me than him.”
“I see. Edwin, right? Smart kid.” Her eyes danced over his application for a minute, before she put it down, looking him right in the face again. “Why do you want to study law?”
He blinked at her. Of course, he had told Edwin once why – in that liminal space of the early morning hours, whispering secrets – but he was aware that his reasonings might not be the most suitable for an actual law firm. “I guess it’s interesting.” She raised a brow at him, unimpressed, so he sighed. Somehow, that women seemed to peer deep into his soul and he found himself quite unnerved by that fact. “I think things in this country – in this world – are pretty fucked and if I can do something… anything for even one person to make it a little less fucked… that seems worth it to me.” Because you’re worth it – I’m really not.
Ms. Green still only looked at him, unblinking, and by now he started to get a bit irritated. It was a grand relief when she finally nodded. “Right. So what’s your first choice university?”
“Cambridge.” It was the first time he said it out loud and he almost got it without his voice shaking. “If I can get a scholarship, that is. Don’t really have the money for uni.”
There was a small line forming between her brows, but her tone was clipped as she proceeded. “Can you type?”
He blinked at her. “Like, on a computer?”
“Duh, kid.”
“Obviously.”
“Do you know your alphabet?”
“Want me to sing the song?”
“Never fucking sing when I’m in the office. Ever used any content management systems?”
“No, but I learned how to work a cash register. Can’t be that hard, can it?”
She glowered at him, taking a deep sigh. “I’m gonna fucking regret this.”
He would start right after the holidays.
When he got home after the interview, Charles was basically vibrating with excitement and nerves. He couldn’t believe he had somehow convinced – tricked? bamboozled? guilted? – a fucking lawyer to give him a job. A bit light-headed, he remembered playing pretend with Edwin on the floor of his room, joking about law school and third husbands – and he wondered if this was the first step on a path to an actual future. One in which maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t the fuck-up his father was so sure he would become.
“Crystal?”, Charles called into the apartment. He needed to tell someone. He wanted to tell Edwin – to thank him. However, when he walked into the living room, there was only Niko on the couch, bundled up in a fluffy robe with Highschool Musical playing on the telly.
“Hey, Charles.” She smiled brightly at him, offering him her pack of crisps as he sat down next to her. “How did the interview go?”
“Got the job”, he grinned, stuffing a handful into his mouth. “It’s mostly gonna be putting files in order and transcribing shit and typing stuff into systems and such. But I’m actually excited, if you can believe it.”
“Congratulations!” Niko clapped for him, gloriously smiley. “Oh, you really need to tell Edwin. He’s going to be so proud.”
Charles felt his own smile drop along with his stomach. “Right… Niko, about that…” She blinked at him with big hopeful eyes. God, he was a prick. “I don’t think that thing with Edwin and me is gonna work out. I know you want that for us, but… He said no. I gotta respect that.” For weeks now he tried to get that into his own bloody head. Maybe if Niko gave up it would finally stick.
Niko frowned, nibbling on a few crisps for a moment as Troy bemoaned the gaping divide between basketball and musical theater. “But… I thought you guys liked each other. Like, a lot.”
“I do like him a lot”, Charles admitted, considering his fingers. “But I don’t think he feels like that for me.”
“Oh, that’s just silly”, Niko snapped, and the slight sharpness in her tone was actually startling. “He’s been gone for you for months now! And I was so happy for him, because after all he went through with Simon for, like, almost two years–”
“Hold on a tick.” Charles’ interrupted, attention catching on something he had already heard once before – from Mrs. Payne. “Two years? Edwin said they were dating for like three months.”
“Oh…” Niko stared at him, eyes so big she looked like a kid getting caught doing something they really shouldn’t.
“Niko…” He kept his voice firm, even though he didn’t like talking to her in that tone. “Tell me.”
“It’s really not for me to tell...”
“Do you think he will talk to me about it?”
Niko sighed, slumping against Charles’ side like someone let all the air out of her. “Well... what do you know about him and Simon?”
Charles shrugged, putting his arm around her – obviously she needed some comfort in order to get through this topic. “They dated for three months before Simon took the bribe to break up with Edwin. Which was, what? Ten months ago?”
“Did Edwin tell you anything else?”
He thought about holding Edwin in the back of the store, holding him close to his chest while he was shaking. “He said Simon wasn’t always kind to him.”
“Well… that’s an understatement.” Niko gazed up at him, uncertain and pale. “Edwin didn’t quite lie to you... you know how he rarely outright lies?”
Charles nodded gravely. “But talks around things like a fae creature?”
“Yes... well, Simon and he had been out as an official couple for three months. But before that... they were pretty much in a secret relationship for about a year and a half.”
By now, Charles was used to the knot deep in his gut – but now, it suddenly seemed to turn into ice and cracked. “...what?”
“That’s not the worst part”, Niko whispered, huddling closer to Charles as if her own words scared her. “Simon... was very cruel to Edwin for years. Since they met at the Academy, basically. Most of the guys in the dance department have to deal with a lot of homophobia... but Edwin had it worse since he doesn’t really care about acting masculine at all. So the bullies targeted him quite badly. He got made fun of a lot, and you know he doesn’t back down from a challenge... so things often escalated. I don’t know how bad, he didn’t really say. But I know he got hurt… and that they once locked him in a classroom. He couldn’t get out the whole night.”
A crawling, sick numbness was taking over Charles, and now he was glad to have Niko to hold on to. “...fuck.”
“So when Simon started to be nicer to him... I think Edwin thought things would get better. Apparently, Simon said he was so mean to him, because he couldn’t deal with being attracted to a guy. But he never really stopped being cruel. It only got different. Actually, I think that makes it worse… He made Edwin feel like he was worthless… like nobody could really love him. I suppose that’s where that whole scheme even came from.”
Cursing under his breath, Charles rubbed a hand over his face, trying to fight back the urge to scream or to sob or to stand up and find out where the fuck Simon lived. Edwin’s face flashed through his mind – always so stunned by the idea of being desirable, loveable, even likeable. “I wish I knew. I would’ve... I don’t know.” Ended up on the bloody news. He sighed, deep and tired and dizzy. “I knew it was bad… but I didn’t know it was like that. No wonder he doesn’t want anything serious…”
“But maybe he does”, Niko insisted, suddenly determined. “Charles, I’ve never seen Edwin happier than when he is with you. Like... he always enjoys playing the straight man to my weirdness. But he laughs so much now. And I think it’s because of you.”
“But if he’s not ready–“
“You don’t know if he is unless you talk to him.”
“I tried!” Frustrated, he was raking his fingers through his hair. By now, his skin felt just as tight as the fucking suit. “He wouldn’t listen to me.”
“Because he was scared.” Never before had he seen Niko Sasaki looking that fierce, that sure of herself – and all that while wearing pink bunny slippers. “People don’t listen that well when they are scared. They rather hide themselves away.” With a huff, she sat up straight, looking at him with conviction. “I think he just needs someone to fight for him, Charles. For once. And... if you don’t want to be that person, that’s okay. I can be that person. I will always be there for him. So you don’t have to worry about Edwin. But if there is a chance you still want to be with him... maybe that’s worth fighting for.”
Because you’re worth it – I’m really not.
Once his foot hit Edwin’s street, Charles started running – he didn’t quite know why and it was overdramatic as fuck, but it felt right. As if now that he was so close, his body needed to be closer as soon as possible, chasing him down the asphalt in a frenzy. Thus, he basically slid down the street on London’s winter sludge until he reached the Payne’s townhouse, the driveway sans Bentley – thank fuck. He was just going to take a deep breath and gather his thoughts – suddenly he wished he hadn’t run, simply to buy himself more time – when he heard his name being called.
It took him a moment to locate the voice, then he was blinking up at Edwin, who was standing on his balcony, gawking at him in utter confusion. For a solid minute they just stared at each other until Charles raised his hand in a flat greeting. “Hi, mate.”
“Were you running from someone?”, Edwin asked, peering down the street in the direction he had come from.
Suddenly, Charles’ ears were strangely hot. “I–… No. Um– wait.” With a quick hop, he cleared the fence, so he could walk up closer to the balcony, looking up to Edwin like the horrendously cast Romeo to a quite baffled Juliet. “I actually came here to talk to you. It’s important. Can you let me in?”
About a million micro-expressions danced across Edwin’s face as he chewed on his bottom lip, lowering his gaze. “I… I think you should leave.”
A spark of irritation ignited in Charles. “Excuse you?”
“I’m sorry”, Edwin sighed, actually closing his eyes now, hands gripping the balcony’s railing so tight his knuckles turned bone-white. “I just … I really can’t do this, Charles. Please leave.”
For a moment, Charles could only stand there and let all the incredulity sink in. And then… maybe he got a little bit mad – as in, a bit angry… but also a bit crazy. “‘That what you actually want?”, he challenged, defiantly crossing his arms. “Then look me in the face when you say it!”
And Edwin looked at him. Open, and vulnerable and hurt… and he didn’t answer.
“Right”, Charles huffed, walking up to the big oak he had considered multiple times before as a means to intrusion or escape. “If you have to be such a bloody stubborn bastard about this!”
Edwin gaped at him as Charles grimly began to climb up the fucking tree. “Oh my god, what are you doing?!”
“We. Are. Gonna. Talk!”, he gritted through his teeth, dragging himself up the branches. This used to be easier when he was a kid (and wasn’t wearing a way too small suit), he was pretty sure.
“Are you insane?!”, Edwin shouted at him, voice turning endearingly tea-kettle-like. “What if you fall?”
“Heard it was worth the risk!” With a summarizing groan, Charles hauled himself from the branch closest to the balcony up to its railing and following a string of unfiltered curses, he finally stood in front of Edwin, who gawked at him in complete disbelief. Charles stared back – his mind was a bit blank, since he hadn’t really thought about what would happen after he climed the tree, so he just pointed at Edwin and asked: “That’s my hoodie, innit?”
In a split second, Edwin’s face was almost as red as the maroon sweater he was wearing. Tugging at its sleeves to cover his fussing hands, he mumbled: “No...”
Charles raised his brows. This little… “Yes, it is.”
“It’s laundry day”, Edwin tried, and Charles had to bite back a laugh.
“Obviously.”
Edwin’s haughty expression crumbled into something almost petulant. “It is simply comfortable, okay?”
“I know”, Charles snorted, now grinning from ear to ear. “That’s why I got it.”
“Well, did you come all the way here and climb up a bloody tree to get it back?”
“Fuck no, I like it better on you.”
Redness spreading to his ears, Edwin crossed his arms and sighed. “Well… now that you are here, you might as well come in. It’s getting cold.”
So Charles followed Edwin into his room, suddenly anxious. Looking around, nothing had changed since he had last been here – and it might be a bit daft to expect anything to change. But he had. He was pretty sure about that. One new thing though: there on Edwin’s bedside table was the single pathetic rose Charles had gotten him for the showcase, dried for preservation. As he tore his eyes away from the pitiful thing, he told himself to take it as a sign – maybe things weren’t over just yet.
After a brief bout of silence, in which they both just stood aimlessly in the middle of the room – and oh, it felt a bit too much like the last time they stood there, fighting –, Edwin looked at him, a closed-off resolve in his face Charles had seen a few times by now. “Charles, listen–”
“No!”, he quickly cut him off. He would not let Edwin bulldoze this conversation again. He climbed this fucking tree to talk, god damnit! “You listen to me for once, mate!”
Taken aback, Edwin wrapped his arms around himself and nodded for Charles to go on. If only Charles knew how. So he began pacing about, as if the movement would somehow shake his thoughts loose, while Edwin watched him impatiently. “That fight we had”, Charles began eventually, stopping to look at Edwin. “What the fuck was that even about?”
Edwin blinked at him, tilting his head as if concerned about Charles’ mental state. “About the money.”
“Bullshit”, Charles snapped. He wasn’t here to argue again, but the tension in his chest tended to translate into anger way to easily – they shared the same dialect. “It was never about the money and you bloody well know that, don’t ya’?”
“Charles–”
“I’m fucking talking.” Edwin shut his mouth and Charles instantly felt like a prick about it. He never wanted to silence Edwin… but he really needed to get this out. To not let Edwin talk circles around him like he always did when he wanted to avoid something. Taking a page out of Edwin’s book, Charles tried to take a deep breath in order to cool his nerves and gain back control of the conversation – or at least his own feelings. “You know exactly what the fight was about. There is no way in hell you wouldn’t know by now. I … wanted something real.” Saying it out loud was like dragging the words from the pit of his stomach, clumpy and probably quite unseemly and raw. “Not some scheme, not some ruse, I wanted you.” He looked up at Edwin then, trying to glean any reaction. But he wasn’t meeting his eye. Again. Charles glanced towards the stupid rose for courage. “And… I thought you wanted that too. And if I was wrong about that, you can send me right back down the fucking tree, promise. But please just say it outright. Because I’m going fucking mental over here about your mixed signals! First it feels like you want me – then you push me away… what the hell is going on in that brilliant, fucking frustrating brain of yours, Edwin?” Oh, he hated how pathetic he sounded – begging for Edwin to release him or take him – anything. But it was the whole truth of himself right now. That’s what fighting for Edwin looked like – being humiliatingly honest in the face of probable rejection. ‘Cause he was worth it. So Charles really couldn’t be that ashamed.
Taking a shuddering breath, Edwin tightened his grip on himself – there was a slight quiver to his bottom lip and it looked like utter heartbreak. “Charles… I just don’t think it would work.”
“Why?” His voice crumbled. So much for having a clear talk. Nothing clear about this. “If you’d just tell me what the issue is, I could fix it!”
“There’s nothing to fix!”
“Apparently there is, or we wouldn’t be shouting at each other, would we? Fuck…” Running his fingers through his hair, he picked up his pacing again, back and forth in front of Edwin, who just stood there, hugging himself in Charles’ fucking hoodie, staring at the floor like it would open up any moment and mercifully swallow him whole.
“What, am I not doing it right?”, Charles asked quietly, slowing his steps. Staring at that flower that probably meant shit. “Am I not treating you right?” Maybe that was it. Maybe Edwin simply wanted something different, something Not-Charles. “Am I not holding and kissing you right? Am I pressuring you into something? I thought you wanted–…you asked me to kiss you!”
“Dear lord, do you hear yourself?”, Edwin suddenly snapped, eyes flitting towards Charles, bright and wet with anger or sorrow or… “Is this actually what you think this is all about? If it was only you and me in the world, we would not even have this conversation, Charles – it would be blessedly easy. But it was never about kissing you.”
“Then what the hell is it about then?!”
“Everything else!” Now it was Edwin’s turn to start pacing and the anxious energy suddenly radiating off him in waves was almost palpable. Like Charles could reach a hand out and touch it, maybe even take a sip and taste it. “You’ve seen how things are, how the people I’m around are, how I am!”
“Yes, I have seen how you are, and that’s why I’m here in this– fuck, me and this bloody suit!” Charles was aware that he probably sounded like a lunatic, but suddenly everything from his clothes to his skin felt too much – too tight – not enough air. So, under Edwin’s incredulous glare, he took off the damned suit jacket and threw it on the foot of the bed with emphasis. With a certain horror, he realized that it was strangely satisfying to throw something right now. “Hell, I want you to have what you want, don’t I? The perfect boyfriend, right? The one you can take places and who knows what fucking fork to use for any occasion. I know I’m not…” He winced, trying to press the words through his teeth without sounding like he loathed them. “… not suited for all of this. But I can try! I can actually behave myself if I try, you just haven’t seen it yet.”
With a wet chuckle, Edwin finally loosened his bruising grip on himself – giving up on trying to hold himself together, instead covering his face with his palms, hiding it away. “I never doubted your abilities or behaviour, Charles. You … you are the kindest, warmest and most generous person I know.” The words hit Charles like punches right to the sternum. Because they were so sweet – but they weren’t what he so desperately wanted to hear. They sounded like you know where the door is. “And I don’t care about some grand idea of a perfect boyfriend. That’s my parent’s issue, not mine. But do you really want to deal with this any longer? The staring and the comments and the disregard – it will just keep chipping away at you until you are small enough to either go unnoticed or be crushed.”
How did they even get here? Charles wanted to talk about them, about their feelings for each other – how did they end up talking about fucking society right now? “Is this actually your issue here? You think I can’t handle being stared at. Is that what you think is happening?”
“I know it’s happening”, Edwin bit back, letting his hands sink – he wasn’t crying, not yet. But his eyes were just as red as the tip of his nose, a blossoming crimson flush. Because, of course, Edwin Payne was also picturesque while crying. After that one night, Charles had hoped to never see that particular face again. “I can see it with my own eyes, Charles! It eats away at you and I dragged you into this.”
Oh.
“Listen…” Charles took two careful steps forward and when Edwin didn’t flinch or inch away from him, he took a few more. He would only have to reach out to touch Edwin. He didn’t. Slowly, a picture was forming in his mind – a line of rhetoric piecing itself together. I am everything you despise! “I’m not saying I’m somehow immune to all this shit. Obviously it chips away at me. It does every day and it did far before I knew you, Edwin. That’s part of the bloody system we both live in – and it fucking sucks. And some people grow up to think they need to isolate themselves to deal with it…” Rapidly, Edwin blinked at him, almost seeming to shrink and vanish between his shoulders. “And some learn that what is chipped away can be glued back together, right? You need people for that. Can’t do this shit alone, mate. Did it suck going to those parties and being treated like I don’t belong? Sure… but you were there. And you treat me right – like it doesn’t matter where we belong, as long as we belong to each other. Fuck, you treat me better than yourself.”
Eyes glossy and hands trembling, Edwin fussed with his sleeves – everything in order not to look at Charles. “… I guess we have that in common.”
Resolved to get that boy to look at him – to see him –, Charles took another step closer, heart hammering in his chest. “Edwin… if this is the real thing–“
“What does that even mean?” Finally, Edwin’s gaze snapped up, so intense, it was digging itself deep, deep into Charles. “Listen to the words coming out of your mouth, Charles. How is this real to you – how is this worth all the trouble for you – when you can’t even say the words?”
Charles furrowed his brow, once again lost on the direction this conversation was taking. “What are you talking about?”
Seemingly steeling himself with a deep, shuddering breath, Edwin looked him straight in the eye – fierce and determined and so fucking terrified, it made something stutter in Charles’ chest. “I love you... That is what real means to me.” In an instant, Edwin’s voice broke into a million pieces, shattering on the floor between them, spreading sparkling shards of grief. “Charles, I’m in love with you...”
For a drawn-out quiet moment, Charles could only marvel at beautiful, beautiful Edwin Payne, who was a much braver man than he ever was. The words turned over and over in his head, engraving themselves upon his mind. Charles, I’m in love with you.
But as the silence dragged on, Edwin shrunk back into himself, all the confidence of his confession draining out of him as he took a step back. “You don’t have to feel the same way…”, he choked out. “I just wanted you to know…”
“No!” Edwin flinched and Charles instantly wanted to kick his own ass. “I mean, yes! I mean– God, why is this so hard?” Charles Rowland never had a way with words when it came to the important things. Rushing forward with two large steps, he crossed the divide between them, instantly cradling Edwin’s face in gentle hands, making him look at Charles as he said the clearest, most important thing he had ever said: “I love you.”
Edwin blinked up at him, eyes wide and confused and tears glittering in his lashes. “You… but, Charles–”
“I. Fucking. Love. You”, he repeated, each word firm and secure, his fingers softly brushing over pale cheeks. Something deep inside of him was flaring up, a burning ache to be satisfied after weeks of barely allowing himself to touch that beautiful boy. “Edwin Payne, of course I love you.”
Edwin’s eyes were on the brink of overflowing as he reached up, slim fingers encircling Charles’ wrists as he had that night when Charles had first made him cry. “But does that really matter when everything else is so impossibly difficult?”
“Of course it fucking matters…”, he breathed, one hand slipping to Edwin’s neck to hold him tight. He looked so devastated it almost shattered Charles’ heart – made him scramble to find the right words for once in his life. “You… fuck, you know how you told me about why you chose ballet? How it’s all about control and precision and harnessing your body. But then you said… you said there’s a point at which you can’t control it anymore. And you just have to hope you don’t fall. And… I don’t know, that kinda sounds like life to me, Edwin.” A breathless chuckle escaped him and he wondered if he sounded like a madman to his love, who stared at him almost reverently, as if he was waiting for some great divine truth to fall from Charles’ lips. “You can’t just lock yourself up in your ivory tower. You gotta take risks to make something beautiful. Even if that means you could fall.”
Edwin blinked, tears now rolling down his cheeks, only to be gently swept away by Charles’ thumb. “That sounds frightening .”
“It is! It fucking is! I’m scared too, right?” Stepping even closer, so close Edwin wouldn’t be able to avoid his gaze anymore, Charles lowered his voice to a whisper – speaking a secret into the narrow space between them. “But I also want to see what’s going to happen. Maybe we fly. Maybe we fall right on our stupid asses. But even if we do, we can still help each other up. You wanna take that risk with me, love?”
A sob ripped itself from Edwin’s throat, but he nodded and that was enough for Charles to draw him in, chest to chest, and get his arms around the boy he loved and who loved him – because apparently that was reality now. For a moment, he just breathed in Edwin’s familiar bergamotte perfume, got lost in the weight of his body pressing against him. He must have been numb for weeks now, because finally, everywhere they touched seemed to generate electricity, a hauntingly intensity chasing through his body.
Their lips met.
And it felt like coming home.
They found their rhythm with ease – Edwin arching into him, Charles drawing him ever closer as if they could somehow melt into each other, perfectly liquid. And because the kiss was slightly salty with Edwin’s tears, Charles did the only thing that made sense to him right now: taking hold of Edwin’s thighs to gather him up into his arms, keeping him even closer. It seemed to work, since Edwin wrapped his legs around his hips, fingers curling into Charles’ collar with a sigh that tasted desperate.
Holding on tight, Charles carried Edwin over to the bed, lips never leaving each other in a careful, tender, almost chaste reintroduction. Sitting on the edge of the mattress, he let his fingertips drag down the back of Edwin’s thighs before settling him on his lap, thinking about how content Edwin usually was when he held him like that. Usually … this could become usual for them – it probably never would, because once again Charles was struck by the way Edwin looked at him – not crying anymore, but still so vulnerable and open and inviting.
“I missed you”, he whispered, and it sounded like I love you.
Smiling, drunk on that warmth beginning to glow in his chest, threatening to overflow, Charles placed a soft kiss right on Edwin’s temple. “‘That right? How bad did ya’ miss me, sweetness?”
Edwin eyed him with an unconvincing glare. “Don’t tease me, Charles...”
“I’m not. I really want to know”, he murmured, leaning in to kiss that spot under Edwin’s ear he had fantasized about. The one that always made Edwin’s breath hitch. “Tell me.”
“So much…”, Edwin sighed, hands finding their way down Charles’ chest. “I am always cold… because you got me accustomed to your warmth right by my side.”
Charles hummed, pleased to hear that Edwin craved this touch as much as he did and instantly ready to remedy his complaint, wrapping him tightly in his arms. “Got that covered. What else?”
“I missed your hands”, Edwin mumbled, cheeks glowing red, not at all cold anymore, his skin rapidly heating up. Charles ran his fingers down Edwin’s spine, delighted as he leaned into the touch. “And your smile... I missed your voice and the way you kiss me. Like you mean it...”
“I mean it, love.” He tried to catch his lips again but was denied as Edwin turned his face away so he could only kiss his cheek.
“Did you miss me at all?”
“You know I did.” Inhumanly so.
“I’m not quite sure. You might need to tell me about it.”
Charles huffed a chuckle against his jaw. “Well, first of all, I missed how you turn into a bloody tease when things get frisky.”
“Be still my beating heart.”
“And I missed your quick wit and sharp tongue.” For a second, their lips melted together again, Edwin opening his mouth as if to invite Charles to taste the tongue he had missed so dearly. But he wasn’t quite finished yet. “Missed talking to you”, he added, more seriously this time. His fingers slipped under the hem of Edwin’s hoodie, grazing the soft skin beneath. “And listening to you. And laughing with you. You know I fucking adore you, right?”
Edwin’s smile was so sweet and yet so melancholic as his elegant fingers caressed Charles’ face, like he was trying to commit its contours to memory. “I adore you”, he echoed quietly. “And I am so, so sorry…”
“Don’t be, love.”
“I hurt you–”
Quickly, Charles pressed a finger to Edwin’s lips, stopping him before he could spiral again. “Not on purpose. At the end of the day, you were trying to protect me. And we were both fucking dickheads… so I think we’re even, aren’t we?”
Slowly nodding, Edwin let his loving, liquid eyes languish over Charles’ face, one hand coming up to play with his earring. “I missed looking at you”, he admitted quietly. “I like the new piercing. It suits you.”
“Thanks, did it myself.”
That shook Edwin from his blissful trance – he gawked at Charles. “You what?!”
With an almost manic grin, he nodded. “Sure, that’s how I got the first one. Only need a potato, a lighter and a sewing pin.”
“That’s… so concerning.”
“Don’t worry, I washed the potato beforehand.”
“Charles… what the hell?”
He chuckled, leaning in to kiss Edwin’s incredulous face. “Well, I might’ve needed a little distraction after seeing you with Monty.”
“So you punctured your own flesh?”
“Oi, let’s be glad it was only the ear.”
Edwin tilted his head, watching Charles with mild curiosity. “Were you... jealous?”
“No!” Maybe that was too quick – Edwin raised a brow at him.
“Charles.”
With a sigh he slipped his hands under the hoodie to take hold of Edwin’s waist, putting them firmly on the familiar place he had longed for. In the back of his mind, he finally registered that he was touching naked skin – so Edwin wasn’t wearing his usual layers under there. Charles tried to keep calm about that fact. “I’m sorry...”, he huffed, trying to smooth out the furrow of his brow. “Obviously, you can hang out with whoever you like. I don’t want to be that person...” Like his father, who didn’t let his mother talk to any man to the point of ridiculousness. He once had quite an embarrassing scuffle with the bloke behind the cash register at a gas station.
“You are not ‘that person’.” Edwin leaned in to gently brush Charles’ cheek with his lips. For a moment, he had to close his eyes, because he couldn’t quite believe he was allowed to have this. “I didn’t give you much confidence in our... relationship. It’s alright to have feelings about that.”
Charles winced at the faint hint of guilt in Edwin’s voice. “I get it”, he murmured into his cheek. “I know this relationship stuff is hard for you…” He hesitated. There was so much more they should probably talk about, and he wanted nothing but to stay in their quiet tender bubble of bliss. But there was one thing that needed to be addressed before he could be sure the bubble would not burst violently. “Niko told me about Simon. About how bad things actually were and for how long…”
Edwin tensed in his lap, clenching his jaw. His fingers tugged on Charles’ shirt like he was trying to hold on. “I … didn’t lie to you.”
“Yeah, but you did hide the truth.”
“I thought it wasn’t relevant.”
“How is that not relevant, love?”
Edwin sighed, deep and tired, hiding his face in the crook of Charles’ neck – he was just glad Edwin wasn’t pulling away, so he let him, drawing soothing circles on his back. “I just … At first, I simply thought it just wasn’t any of your business. And then things changed… I didn’t want you to think I was fragile.”
Charles scoffed, incredulous. “As if. You’re the least fragile person I know.”
“Is that so?” Edwin blinked up at him, carefully. “I thought… I don’t know, you are very chivalrous with me – not that I dislike that. But you also hid upsetting things from me… so I kind of got the impression you thought I couldn’t handle myself.”
They frowned at each other for a moment until Charles slowly shook his head. “Fuck, no. Edwin, I want to protect the people I love.” He tightened his grip on Edwin, causing him to release a clipped, shallow gasp. “And I want to be there for you. Doesn’t mean I think you’re weak or somethin’. As for the hiding shit–” He sighed, leaning his forehead against Edwin’s – seeking comfort in their unending closeness. “We both gotta work on our communication skills, don’t we?”
“We shall ask Crystal for a crash course. Conversations for Dummies 101.”
Charles chuckled, but sobered up quickly, when he felt Edwin’s fingers caressing his neck so softly it almost hurt. “Look, we have time… you can tell me about Simon whenever and whatever you want… or don’t. That’s fine. I just gotta know… are you okay with this, love?” He carefully brushed his thumbs over Edwin’s bare skin. “With us being together like this?”
“Charles…” Cradling his face in gentle palms, Edwin made Charles look at him. His smile was so achingly sweet, despite the lingering redness of his eyes and the tip of his nose and hints of tears on his cheeks. “I trust you”
A relieved shudder rattled through Charles and despite himself, he was digging his fingers harder into Edwin’s waist, relishing the shiver that went through him. “Even if I’m a possessive prick?”
Edwin adjusted himself on his lap, chest pressing into Charles’ as his fingers found his neck again, trailing over his shoulders as if searching for a note to play on piano keys. “As long as we can resolve those feelings between the two of us.”
There was a heavy tone to Edwin’s voice Charles couldn’t quite place – like deep amber honey. “By talking about it?”
Edwin tilted his head, considering him with a glint of something wicked in his eyes. “Certainly. I always want to make sure that you know you are the only one I want.” And oh, wasn’t that the best sentence to ever be spoken out loud? “And I am prepared to explore other ventures to convince you of that fact.” Nope, new best sentence.
Charles stared at the boy in his lap, smiling coyly. “Edwin Payne, are you attempting to talk dirty to me?”
“Am I?” Edwin blinked at him, all lashes and big eyes and mirth.
“You little bastard”, Charles muttered, unable to suppress a grin. “You like that I’m crazy ’bout you, don’t ya’? Crystal would say it’s toxic to be this bloody jealous.”
Edwin simply shrugged, busying himself by unbuttoning Charles’ shirt with slow and studied movements. “And while I appreciate Crystal’s legitimate opinions about the real world, they shall not encroach upon the time the two of us spend alone.”
“Kinky.”
“I am simply trying to provide you with a healthy outlet”, Edwin quipped, leaning in to capture Charles’ mouth again. Sinking into the kiss with deep sighs, they found themselves starving for each other. As Edwin pushed the shirt off his shoulders, Charles allowed his hands to frame Edwin’s ribcage, expanding with quickening breath. He let them wander higher, thumbs catching and causing Edwin to moan into his mouth. They broke apart just long enough for Edwin to pull the hoodie off and let it fall to the ground – he was indeed not even wearing a vest under it. All the multiple layers of Edwin Payne had been stripped away and Charles was confronted with pale white skin, accented with blushing rose and the alluring dips and planes of Edwin’s slender form. The flush of his face dripping down his throat and to his chest, Edwin looked at Charles, teeth catching his bottom lip, suddenly unsure of himself.
“You’re beautiful”, Charles muttered, dipping his head low to finally taste this perfectly porcelain skin again in that way that always fed something uncanny deep inside his chest. “So fucking beautiful”, he whispered into Edwin’s shoulder, listening to the gasps and whines that had haunted his dreams for weeks now.
“Charles…” Long, deft fingers threaded themselves into his hair, tugging lightly. “Charles, please… tell me what you like.”
Maybe he was way too distracted by lapping at that flawless throat he wanted – needed – to mark up so badly, but he didn’t quite register what Edwin wanted from him. “Hm?”
“I–... Charles!” Another tug, this time a bit harder, making him groan but also making him look at Edwin. His face was bright red by now, and his lips so wet – but his eyes were still wide and insecure, causing a flicker in Charles’ burning want. “You... You spend so much time making sure I feel good”, Edwin whispered to him, voice shaking just the tiniest bit. “And I barely know what to do.”
Charles could only grin. That boy was so fucking precious. With a placating kiss to Edwin’s cheek, he let his hands softly dance over his back, exploring that familiar skin and adventuring to places he hadn’t touched before. “You don’t have to do anything, love.”
“I–I know…”, Edwin stuttered, quickly flustered by how low Charles’ fingers were gliding. “But I want to. I have the most... perfunctory knowledge of how to pleasure someone but... you are so good to me and so patient and so gentle…” Charles’ teeth in the crook of Edwin’s neck, increasing pressure just a bit – a moan, cut off and so close to his ear it sounded like music. “And when you’re not gentle it’s so perfect still... I don’t really know how to reciprocate in the same way though.”
“Oi...” Slowly – because he planned on having forever to do just this – Charles trailed his fingertips up and down Edwin’s spine, tracing all the parts that made up his perfect poise. “You don’t need to worry about that, love. I am perfectly happy like this. You enjoying yourself is all I need.”
Edwin frowned at him, although the effect was lost in the way he pressed himself against Charles, bare chest to bare chest, aching heat between them, heartbeats racing against each other. “That’s... dear god, Charles, don’t you want to enjoy yourself too?”
Charles leveled him with a dirty grin. “Oh, I am enjoying myself, believe me. Either way, I don’t want to–”
“You’re not like Simon”, Edwin interrupted him, voice firm even while his face smoothed out to gentle reassurance. “I know you care for me. I know you want me to be happy and pleased with you. I knew that the moment you kissed me for the first time. You are not selfish for having wants and needs. And I want to fulfill them for you so much it hurts... I want you to feel loved.”
“You make me feel loved just like this.”
Edwin sighed a bit exasperated and considered him. Charles could see then in his eyes, the very split second in which his favourite little schemer decided to shift tactics. “So... you wouldn’t want me to touch you more?”, Edwin asked coyly, placing one hand on his chest. All of a sudden, Charles was overly aware of Edwin touching his naked skin and it was a strangely novel sensation. Edwin liked to comb his fingers through Charles’ hair or caress his face and neck. But now those same delicate fingers were drifting over his bare chest, tracing his shoulders, blunt nails whispering down his stomach and dipping lower...
“...well”, he found himself stumbling over the simple word. “I didn’t say that.”
“You wouldn’t want me to kiss you like you kiss me?” Lips on his jaw, trailing gently down the side of his throat – just a whisper of teeth at his clavicle. He couldn’t help it, a shivering sigh slipped from Charles’ lips as he turned his head slightly, giving Edwin all the playing room he wanted.
“You didn’t enjoy this?” Now he was rolling his hips against Charles, fluid and sensual and so fucking perfect.
“Fuck…”, he groaned out, ready to arch into the friction, but Edwin leaned away from him, tilting his head to take in Charles’ reaction. There was a tiny, mischievous smile in the corner of his kiss-swollen lips. “Or do you just want me to sit still and look pretty for you, darling?”
Charles was so fucking gone, it wasn’t even funny anymore. From the moment that little bastard walked into his life – bow-tie and all – he never had a bloody chance to get out of this with his mental faculties intact. “I created a monster.”
A real grin tugged on Edwin’s lips. “Shall I quote The Modern Prometheus to set the mood?”
“No Frankenstein in bed, love.”
“Good to know you have a limit.”
“I always draw the line at nineteenth-century literature.”
Naturally, they could not take anything seriously for too long, so they laughed into each other’s shoulders and cheeks and for a while they smiled more than they kissed, even as they carefully and slowly explored their bodies with the most delicate of touches.
And since there was no way Charles could ever say no to anything Edwin asked for, they sprawled out on the bed, whispering into each other’s ears about the things that got their hearts stuttering. Some sweet – some not that sweet at all. Edwin knew heart-breakingly little about what he liked other than just Charles. So that’s something they would have to figure out together. But right now, Edwin seemed completely content – if not downright determined – to focus on just Charles. It was caramel sweet and overwhelming and confusing and beautiful and came with a whole new set of sensations. Like the feeling of Edwin’s soft lips in sensitive places and his gentle fingertips directly on skin, palm pressed right where he could feel Charles’ heartbeat quicken and his soft voice sighing achingly tender things like you, only you, Charles right into his ear as well as I love you I love you I love you over and over, setting Charles aflame from the tingling tension in his head to his curling toes. With a light-headed floating sensation spreading through him, Charles realized that he was cared for – and that was a good and real thing.
Later – much later – they were still in bed and Charles was blissfully happy with a barely clothed Edwin draped over him, head resting in the crook of his neck, their bare legs entangled. Leisurely, he drew patterns with his fingertips into the enticing dip of Edwin’s lower back he had kissed only minutes before.
“Charles”, Edwin whispered, and it was almost too low to hear.
“Hm?”
He blinked up at him, rosy-cheeked and wide-eyed, asking: “Are we… I mean…”
“Say it, love.”
“Are you my boyfriend?”
Charles couldn’t help it, he laughed right in Edwin’s face, making him frown. “I sure fucking hope so! Are you doing these kinds of things with people other than your boyfriend? Not judging, just asking.”
“You are the worst”, Edwin mumbled, but before he could hide his face again, Charles caught his chin with gentle fingers, drawing him in for a long, slow kiss that hopefully conveyed his stance on the issue. But since he was trying to learn from his mistakes, he also said it out loud, right against Edwin’s lips: “Of course I’m your boyfriend, love. I’m fucking gone for you. If you want me, you can have me for as long as you like.”
With a kiss, that was much more a sigh, Edwin slowly traced the angles of his face with timid fingertips. They languished for a while longer in each other’s arms, just a step away from the line that divided tenderness and lust. Charles could have stayed like this forever, in a comfortable bed in a room slowly turning golden in the light of the setting sun, kissing beautiful, beautiful Edwin Payne. But sooner or later, reality did come back to haunt them, and it was in the form of Edwin’s phone buzzing – a sound that annoyed Charles to no end, since he associated quite irritating things with it. With a deep sigh, Edwin rolled off him – shame – and leaned over the edge of the bed to grab for his pants. At least this angle provided Charles with quite an enticing view, so he didn’t complain. Digging the offending device from his pocket, Edwin checked the message and groaned in exasperation. “My mother is going to be home soon. She wants to get dinner. She always wants to get dinner nowadays. It’s a bit unnerving, to be honest.”
“Right”, Charles sighed, sitting up to look at Edwin. “Probably should leave, shouldn’t I?”
Edwin shrugged, placing the phone on his bedside table, before scooting over to plaster himself against Charles’ side. “You don’t have to. But you can, if you want to dodge her, I wouldn’t mind.”
“Nah, I wanna stay with you.” He put his arm around Edwin, tugging him in close to kiss his forehead, because god he looked so fucking cute with his messy hair and dark marks blossoming on his porcelain white shoulders. “Speaking off: Now that I’m your actual boyfriend…” Damn, he liked saying it already – he would be so not normal about this development. “I already trashed any goodwill with your parents, right? No way to recover from all of our shenanigans?”
“Surprisingly, I think my mother has in fact taken a liking to you.” Charles blinked at him skeptically, but Edwin just shrugged. “Don’t ask me, I could never have seen that coming. Apparently, my fondness for madmen comes from her side of the family tree.”
“What about your dad?”
“I don’t value his opinion enough to care whether he likes you or doesn’t.”
“Brills, then I don’t give a fuck either.” Breathing out a relieved sigh, Charles put a finger on Edwin’s jaw, easily turning it so he could kiss his cheek, lips trailing down his throat…
“Maybe we should at least get dressed, dear?”, Edwin suggested, but there was no real conviction in his tone.
“Sure, love”, Charles murmured against his skin, grabbing one of Edwin’s knees to haul him back on top of him. “Right after I’m finished kissing my lovely boyfriend until he fucking melts for me.”
“Don’t make such promises”, Edwin chided with an amused smirk, putting his arms around Charles’ neck to draw him in. “I might devise a series of utterly devious plans so as to never let you leave this bed.”
“Oh, I can work with that, sweetness.”
“Flirt.”
“Schemer.”
As they kissed, Charles could feel Edwin’s lips smiling against his own.
He would probably chase this sensation for the rest of his life.
Notes:
It finally happened, folks!
Thank you all so much for reading, commenting, kudos-ing, bookmarking and always being so kind. I hope you liked the finale and it met the expectations of the long build-up.
Next chapter will be an epilogue to give the boys a proper send-off with a lot more fluff, so stay tuned for that. Just a heads-up: It might not come out right next weekend since I have very little pre-written for it. Might take two weeks this time – thank you for being patient!
Chapter 11: Epilogue: Happy End
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
8 months later …
Sunlight.
Warmth.
The incessant fucking ticking of an antique clock.
Charles kept his eyes closed for a while longer, stretching out his hand to search the soft linen next to him. Empty, but still a bit warm. With a sigh that came out more like a sleep-drunken groan, he took a moment to relish the memory of the day before. After arriving at the Payne’s townhouse around noon and getting settled for their little summer vacation, they had been walking through the small town spread out at its foot.
Holding hands.
Edwin introduced him to people he had known as a child – the Payne’s cook Rita and her daughter, an old lady in a flower shop, a slightly older boy he had played with in past summers and who had recently taken over his mother’s bakery. With a paper bag of fragrant sour-cherry scones in hand, Edwin had dragged Charles into the bright green woods at the southern edge of town and towards the clearing with that pond. The one he fell into when he was eight and trying out new steps he hadn’t really mastered quite yet.
Listening to the twittering of birds and the humming of jewel-toned insects, they were dancing knee-deep in emerald water and kissing in grass tall enough to hide in, speckled with wild flowers. There were little things as beautiful as Edwin Payne amidst cornflowers and poppies and little golden buttercups. In moments like these, Charles was painfully aware of how ridiculously in love he was. It would’ve been embarrassing if it wasn’t that perfect.
They had spent the evening on the Payne’s porch.
And the night in bed. Hot lips and quickened breath and gentle fingers tracing the beautiful arch of Edwin’s back, before taking hold of him. And laughing about the cartoonish creaking of the vintage bed frame.
The memory prickling in his neck finally got Charles out of bed. They made their camp in Edwin’s dark green childhood bedroom and Charles was very happy about not being faced with any gargoyle-like creatures this early in the morning. After tugging on a pair of grey sweatpants and noticing the shirt he wore yesterday was missing from its designated spot on the ancient hardwood floor, he grabbed his half-read edition of Murder on the Orient Express, deciding to start the day off reading and waiting for Edwin to come back from his morning run. Because, as it turned out: Edwin was a runner. One of those crazy people who woke up at five a.m. (no matter how hard Charles tried to tire him out at night) to sprint around the block as if chased by a demonic creature. Go figure. It was one of the many little things Charles had learned over the past months and held close to his chest like precious gems. Like how Edwin preferred a sweet breakfast – especially when Charles was the one making it. And how, on the rare occasions Charles caught him before he left for his aforementioned run, he could easily sway Edwin to stay in bed and share lazy kisses for a while – sometimes resulting in the demand of a whole other form of workout Charles was too happy to assist in.
When Charles made his way down the creaking stairs, he was met with the smell of fragrant spices, beckoning him towards the kitchen. Mildy surprised, he followed it and took a moment to just lean in the door and watch. Because there on the stove stood beautiful, beautiful Edwin Payne, bathed in the glow of morning light flooding in through the windows, painting him in shades of rich cream, sweet peach and blushing rose. He was wearing Charles’ shirt and the shorts he had put on to sleep last night, hair perfectly unkempt – and he was stirring a pot with the same stern concentration he usually reserved for new choreography.
“Mornin’, sweetness”, Charles said quietly, as to not startle him. In passing, he put his book down on the kitchen table, before walking up behind Edwin, wrapping his arms around his waist and kissing the one shoulder his shirt exposed, marvelously golden in the sun.
“Good morning.” Edwin leaned into him a bit, but he was still very much focused on the task at hand.
Charles peered into the pot to see spices and tea bubbling away. “Needs more cinnamon.”
Edwin frowned at him and then back at the pot. “You think?”
“Can tell it by nose.”
“But I’ve watched your mother do this multiple times and I’m sure I memorized the precise amounts she uses.”
“You don’t measure spices with precision, love. You measure them with your heart. And by the handful.”
Rolling his eyes in fond exasperation, Edwin grabbed a little package of cinnamon sticks, throwing one in the pot. “Happy?”
“Ecstatic”, Charles murmured, already busy with brushing his lips over Edwin’s neck.
“Darling, I am trying to make breakfast here.”
“I’m not stopping you, am I?” Hooking a finger into the collar of Edwin’s shirt, he dragged it down further so he could kiss the fading mark he had sucked into his shoulder blade the other night.
Edwin shifted against Charles’ chest, a noticeable shiver running through him. “No, but you are distracting me.” He took the pot off the heat before turning in Charles’ grasp, putting his arms around his neck so they could kiss properly.
Edwin already tasted like Earl Grey and there was that slight floral hint of the rose syrup Rita made as a special treat for tea. Edwin started every morning with a cup. Another little gem.
Charles let his hands glide from Edwin’s waist, over his hips and to the bare back of his thighs to hoist him up on the kitchen’s countertop.
“Unhygenic”, Edwin chided, without any bite behind it.
“Dirty”, Charles argued, grinning like an idiot. “Two different things, love.”
Edwin simply hummed in mild disapproval, but still wrapped his legs around Charles’ hips to draw him in for another kiss. Smiling into his soft lips, Charles let his hands glide over Edwin’s thighs, thumbs dipping to the tender insides.
“What got you in a mood so early in the day?”, Edwin chuckled, breaking the kiss to give him a coy smile.
“I dunno”, Charles muttered, leaning closer to brush his lips along Edwin’s jaw. “Guess I just love waking up and having you right there.”
“I am going to miss you so much…” There was a sobering tenderness in Edwin’s voice, so Charles straightened himself out to look at him. He was smiling, but the smile seemed so fragile.
“Oi…” Gently, he cradled Edwin’s face in his hands so he had to look him in the eye. “I will miss you too, love. Gonna go bloody bonkers not seeing you. You know, if you want me to stay–”
“No!”, Edwin snapped quickly, before collecting himself with a deep breath, continuing a bite more calmly. “No… Charles, you have this great opportunity. I want you to take it. You should never give such things up just to be close to me.”
“There’s no ‘just’ in being close to you, is there?”
Edwin sighed, shaking his head and looking at him with the softest eyes. “I am going to be okay. You will come to London during breaks and holidays and I will come visit you on the weekend as often as I can. Cambridge is only a train ride away.”
“You’ gonna have shows on the weekend.”
“Not for a while”, Edwin corrected, caressing Charles’ neck with feather-light touches. “The Royal Ballet does not allow rookies to perform in the big shows. It is mostly going to be a lot of training. Imagine a ballet boot-camp.”
“Aw, so it’s gonna be a while until I see you in one of those pretty corset-things they put the dancers in?”
Edwin raised a brow at him that spoke volumes to what he thought about that question. “On stage at least. But I could make it happen for you. If you behave yourself.”
“I think you like me better when I don’t”, Charles quipped with a wolfish grin.
“You know me too well, dear.” With a smile, Edwin leaned in to kiss him once more – quick and soft and oh so sweet. “I am so incredibly proud of you, Charles.”
“Nothing to be proud of”, Charles huffed, only half joking. “Anybody can get in with two endorsements by Cambridge alumni.”
With a slight frown, Edwin pulled away a bit to study Charles’ face – reading him for clues like one of his crime novels. “Certainly not. You worked hard for Ms. Green to give you that endorsement. And for great marks on your exams and for a sports scholarship. You are brilliant, Charles. And I hate to see you forget that.”
The praise was like a warm cup of cocoa, spreading through Charles and unwillingly heating up his face. He tried to cover with a jovial grin. “Oh yeah, I’m really in my Elle Woods era.”
The little smile tugging at the corner of Edwin’s mouth was sign enough to know he didn’t buy Charles’ cool, but he mercifully didn’t comment on it. “I never know what you are saying.”
“Don’t worry, love, gonna add it to our watchlist.”
“Which we can work on whenever I visit you in Cambridge.”
The idea was blooming brightly in Charles’ chest. If he was honest with himself, he was kinda freaking out about that whole university thing – about if he would even be able to survive between dusty academics and preppy rich kids who studied to take over their father’s law firms. He wouldn’t even attempt to fit in – he barely fit in at St. Hilarion. Cambridge was… a fever dream. A fever dream rapidly becoming reality and worst of all, taking him away from Edwin. “I fucking love you, you know that?”
Edwin’s smile was always the most brilliant when he said that. “I do. And I love you too.” With a wistful sigh, he wrapped his arms around Charles’ neck, drawing him in for another honey-sweet kiss – as their lips whispered against each other, Charles felt his muscles tense in anticipation. Grabbing the backs of Edwin’s knees, he tugged him closer to the edge of the counter, pressing them chest to chest.
“It is going to be hard, I’m sure…”, Edwin muttered against his cheek before placing an achingly tender kiss to Charles’ temple. “I already miss you so much, even though you are right here.”
“Come now, love. That’s why we have this little vacation. You’ll have me all to yourself for the whole week.”
A jangling of keys at the door shattered through their shared morning bliss.
Edwin’s face turned to stone. “Almost to myself.”
“Fucking hell, Rowland, you don’t get frisky where people prepare food!”
Edwin’s forehead thumped against Charles’ chest, accompanied by a frustrated groan. Chuckling, Charles turned his head to see Crystal standing in the doorway to the kitchen, arms crossed with a good-natured scowl on her face and a small suitcase at her feet. “Do I have to remind you about me walking in on you and Niko in the–”
“Fuck off!”
“Hey, you guys!” Niko appeared to peer over Crystal’s head into the kitchen with a bright smile. “As you were. Don’t let us interrupt!”, she chirped before taking Crystal’s arm, dragging her away and up the stairs, along with her giant pink carry-on bag.
“We prepared the blue room for you, Crystal!”, Edwin called after them with a mean little smirk.
Charles raised a brow at him. “You know Niko has to put up with that room too, don’t ya’?”
“Niko adores creatures of any kind. She will love the gargoyles.”
“Point taken.”
There was some more scraping and bumping in the hallway and Charles quickly stepped away from Edwin, who hopped off the counter just in time. Because a heartbeat later their mothers waltzed into the kitchen.
If you had asked Charles six months prior, he would’ve been sure there was only one thing less likely than Mrs. Payne and him being on good terms. And that would be her and his mum getting along. Well, he has been eating his words ever since and they tasted like utter confusion.
After his mum had moved in with him and Crystal, it had taken some weeks for her to be calm enough to leave the apartment again – Edwin had pulled some strings through his own therapist to get her some trauma counseling rather quickly and the panic attacks were beginning to get better. But still, they had wanted to make her first outing as mellow as possible. That’s when Mrs. Payne decided to invite her to tea. Not at her usual salon, but at the Payne’s house. It had started out quite awkward to be honest. Both Charles and Edwin were wildly nervous about their mothers meeting – it had seemed like such a big step for several reasons, so the air had been heavy with tension. Until Mrs. Payne had brashly told them to stop fussing and go to Edwin’s room, so the women could chat in peace. Thirty minutes later, as Charles was snuggled up with Edwin on the bed, looking for a movie to watch on his laptop, he heard a marvelous sound from downstairs. One he hadn’t heard too often in his life and had worked tirelessly to achieve since he was a little kid: his mother’s laugh.
Now, months later, the two women had become close friends. Charles couldn’t remember his mother ever having a friend. And according to Edwin, their connection seemed quite different from any of the friendships his mother shared with the ladies of society she called her inner circle – relationships full of stiff kisses on cheeks and gossip behind each other’s backs. Instead, the two women seemed to have grown into a school girl sort of friendship. When together, Mrs. Rowland and Mrs. Payne, turned into Mary and Victoria, chatting brightly and drinking tea and eating sweets and sometimes speaking very quietly and solemnly and close to each other, so their sons couldn’t hear.
Charles guessed that those whispers were often about their husbands. Well, in Mary’s case, her soon-to-be-ex-husband – since Victoria had hooked her up with a shark of a divorce lawyer who had filed a restraining order just minutes after Charles’ dad had been escorted out of the lobby of Crystal’s apartment building by the police, face red and lungs screamed raw. Charles had slept in his mother’s room for a week after that – cricket bat at his side –, just so she could get some rest.
But it was worth it.
According to Edwin, divorce would be detrimental to his parent’s place in society, so it was quite unlikely for them. But his father did take up residence in a bachelor pad closer to his firm that was officially supposed to be a convenient refuge after late hours in the office. Of course, as was custom in polite society, everybody knew the truth but nobody said anything out loud – at least not to Victoria’s face. Very polite indeed.
But here was the most important part about that new friendship: the laughter. Lots of laughter. As it turned out, deeply buried behind her beige facade, Victoria Payne had a dark, dry and at times crass sense of humor that sent Mary into fits of blushing giggles like Charles had never seen before. Granted, those often occurred on late nights and after some of the banger martinis Victoria mixed for them.
While it was quite unnerving to have their mums team up at times (Charles would never recover from the joint gay birds and bisexual bees talk they had inflicted upon them, and once they got out the power point presentation, he had been pretty sure the two were just fucking with them for their personal amusement), the boys were happy with this strange development. Because for the first time since they both could remember, their mothers seemed actually happy.
“Good morning, boys”, Mrs. Payne greeted them, eyes flitting between Edwin and Charles’ like she could sense shenanigans and obviously judging their bedridden appearance. “Nice to see you two up so bright and early. Although I would appreciate you wearing appropriate clothes in my house. This isn’t a camping trip, gentlemen.”
“Don’t be so strict, Vic”, Charles’ mum chided with a fond smile that smoothed out the scowl on Mrs. Payne’s face. “Our boys deserve a bit of slack, don’t they?”
“I suppose”, Mrs. Payne muttered, huffy but compliant. She tended to look at Mary like she was a little bird that fell out of its nest and it was unnervingly endearing.
The women embraced their sons and Charles watched his mother give Edwin a warm hug – just like those she once reserved exclusively for Charles and he was all to happy to share them now. She peered into the pot on the stove, leaning a bit closer to take a whiff. “Almost perfect”, she praised, squeezing Edwin’s shoulder. “Although I would add some more cardamom.”
With a deep sigh, Edwin reached for the spices again. “I will never get the hang of this.”
Mary gave him an encouraging pat on his arm. “I’m sure you will, dear. And if not, that’s okay too. That’s what you have my son for, right beta?”
“Oi!”
The women and Edwin broke into giggles and Charles had never been so happy about being laughed at. As their mothers left the kitchen to get settled in their rooms, Mrs. Payne looked over her shoulder to the boys. “Don’t forget, we are invited for afternoon tea at the Whickham’s estate. No library excursions, are we clear? I don’t care if Lady Whickham thought your little pantomime was delightful.”
“Yes, mother”, Edwin sighed and with a last scolding but wholly unconvincing glare, his mother vanished into the labyrinth of her ancestral home.
Charles glanced at his boyfriend who threw him a dark look. “Just so we are clear”, he stated, dry as desert sand. “When we see each other next break, it is not going to be another family vacation.”
“Oh, you love it.”
Rolling his eyes, Edwin turned to the stove and resumed the chai. Charles watched him for another moment, smiling fondly, before sitting down at the kitchen table and grabbing for his book again.
“How do you like it?”, Edwin asked, glancing towards him.
“Not bad.” He opened the book, putting his makeshift bookmark on the polished wooden surface of the kitchen table. “Always fancy a good Agatha Christie, don’t I? Especially the Hercule Poirot’s. I know you prefer Miss Marple but– Edwin?” A bit concerned, he frowned at his boyfriend who was staring at the table, open-mouthed and aghast. “You good, mate?”
“Charles!” The wooden spoon clattered in the pot as it slipped Edwin’s grasp, but he didn’t even seem to notice. “That is no place to store ten thousand pounds!”
“Oh.” Charles glanced at the crumpled bank slip lying next to him, the edges already soft and curling from being used as a bookmark for almost a year by now – containing all the sensitive information about a new account in the name of Charles Rowland, currently housing ten thousand pounds that had stayed untouched for the past six months. He shrugged. “Didn’t really know what to do with it, to be honest.”
“You could’ve put it in a safe place? Dug a whole in Hyde Park and draw a treasure map? Pretty much anything would be better than walking around with it all the time!”
Chuckling, Charles stood up again, replacing the book in his hands with the piece of paper. Leaning against the counter, he held it up to Edwin, who still stared at him like he was a maniac. He probably was. “Well, you know I struggled with the idea of cashing it in the first place. I thought if I carried this around for a tick I might get used to the idea, but… I dunno, kinda forgot about it.”
“You forgot about ten thousand pounds.”
“It just still seems kinda a dick move to use it.”
With a slightly exasperated sigh, Edwin frowned at him. “Charles, we had this conversation.” Several times, actually, over and over. It was still hard to reconcile their different opinions on fiscal matters, but they could both at least respect that difference and where it stemmed from. Charles had to cash the check eventually so it wouldn’t go stale, but that day had been a fucking emotional roller coaster. In the end, Edwin insisted that there was no resentment tied to this money on his part and that Charles was free to make his decision about it on his own terms. Which, to Charles, meant he just put it somewhere he didn’t have to think about.
“I know, I know”, he now said, quick to sooth away Edwin’s irritation with a gentle hand on his arm. “I will make a decision at some point, promise. I just don’t–” He stared at Edwin for a moment. Eyes catching on the delicate line of worry etched between his brows – by now, Charles knew that what looked like irritation was simply anxious affection. More than once, Edwin had suggested using the money to make things easier during university. Charles had an arrangement with Jenny to keep working remotely for Green & Son (with a sleek new laptop he was allowed to use for course work too), since his scholarship barely covered the university’s fees. Add to that classes and cricket – things were already building up to be a headache and a half. So yes, Charles knew Edwin was worried about him and not just pesky about money. Because Edwin was always worried about him. Anxiety was basically a love language to him – although he was getting better with it.
Reaching for his face, Charles’ brushed a thumb over the furrow of Edwin’s brow and it smoothed away, his face turning soft again. “You know what?”, he murmured. “I actually do have an idea what to do with the money.”
“That is?”
“A deal.”
Edwin raised a brow at him. “I thought I was banned from making deals.”
“Oh, you are. But I’m not.”
Charles took a step back, rolling up the bank slip and looking around the kitchen for a moment. With a triumphant “Aha!” he spotted an old, iron milk can, now decoratively perched on a shelf next to a selection of spices Edwin and him had brought from London. He grabbed the can, popping the lid open to check that it was empty, before putting the paper inside.
“What exactly are you doing, dear?”, Edwin asked, tone obviously expressing his dire concern about Charles’ mental state.
“Gonna put that right here. And it’s gonna stay there for now”, Charles explained, putting the milk can back on the shelf before returning to Edwin with a bright smile, wrapping his arms around him. “And one day, when we’re both ready and we talked about it – because you know we need to talk about shit, don’t ya’?”
Edwin sighed, settling into him, still visibly confused but willing to indulge Charles as he always was. “Yes, I know we have to talk about shit.”
“Aces”, Charles grinned, quickly placing a kiss on Edwin’s cheek that coerced a small smile from him. “So, when we are both ready and we talked about it, you are gonna be patient and wait for me to drive out here and get it.”
“Get it for what?”
Charles shrugged, simply leaning in to capture Edwin’s lips for a proper kiss. Staying there, for just a few heartbeats, slow and tender and golden as the morning sun. As they separated, Charles gave his boyfriend a self-satisfied smirk. “Well, rings are expensive, sweetness.”
For a moment of utter incredulity, Edwin blinked a few times and Charles watched with amusement as the gears in that genius brain of his turned and the penny finally dropped. Instantly red as the poppies they had languished in the day before, Edwin gaped at him. “Charles Rowland, did you just–”
To shush his stuttering, Charles leaned in for another kiss. They easily melted into each other, although now there was a new, delicious, electric tension drawing them close.
One floor above them, there were the steps and bumps and chattering of four women getting ready to take on a storybook summer in the country side with the two of them in tow. A family vacation indeed.
“So”, Charles muttered against Edwin’s blessedly soft lips, his fingers dancing down his spine. “What do you say, love?”
With a warm little chuckle and gentle hands brushing through Charles’ hair, Edwin beamed at him. “A deal is a deal.”
Charles could not stop grinning.
This would be fun.
Notes:
That’s a wrap, folks!
I can barely believe it. Cheers to the readers, the commenters, the bookmarkers and kudos-givers. This was such an amazing experience, you are all so kind and motivating and just fucking sweet. I am grateful for all your support and that I could share this story with you.I don’t know how any fic after this one could ever compare, but hey – I’m gonna try. Am currently cooking up something very stupid and very angsty, so look out for that, if you want!
Lastly, I want to reach out to everyone who felt themselves seen in this fic, especially in the darker moments. You are not alone. Many people go through such things and they won’t always be that way. Let me put it in the words of Billy Talent – since “I beg to differ” is basically the theme song of this fic:
When you feel so lost, that you don′t belong
Well I beg to differ
As time goes on this will get better <3
Pages Navigation
KissMyAsthma on Chapter 1 Sat 17 Aug 2024 07:13PM UTC
Comment Actions
lucrow on Chapter 1 Sun 18 Aug 2024 07:49PM UTC
Comment Actions
sympatheticfiend on Chapter 1 Sat 17 Aug 2024 07:16PM UTC
Comment Actions
lucrow on Chapter 1 Sun 18 Aug 2024 07:49PM UTC
Comment Actions
KataraArgentum on Chapter 1 Sat 17 Aug 2024 08:09PM UTC
Comment Actions
lucrow on Chapter 1 Sun 18 Aug 2024 07:50PM UTC
Comment Actions
TheThoughtsThief on Chapter 1 Sat 17 Aug 2024 08:11PM UTC
Comment Actions
lucrow on Chapter 1 Sun 18 Aug 2024 07:51PM UTC
Comment Actions
Deathsletters on Chapter 1 Sat 17 Aug 2024 08:48PM UTC
Comment Actions
lucrow on Chapter 1 Sun 18 Aug 2024 07:51PM UTC
Comment Actions
Mary_berry_boo on Chapter 1 Sat 17 Aug 2024 09:08PM UTC
Comment Actions
lucrow on Chapter 1 Sun 18 Aug 2024 07:51PM UTC
Comment Actions
joschmo on Chapter 1 Sat 17 Aug 2024 09:14PM UTC
Comment Actions
lucrow on Chapter 1 Sun 18 Aug 2024 07:54PM UTC
Comment Actions
kittenwithclaws on Chapter 1 Sat 17 Aug 2024 09:24PM UTC
Comment Actions
lucrow on Chapter 1 Sun 18 Aug 2024 07:54PM UTC
Comment Actions
the_fanfic_fanatic on Chapter 1 Sat 17 Aug 2024 09:28PM UTC
Comment Actions
lucrow on Chapter 1 Sun 18 Aug 2024 07:54PM UTC
Comment Actions
carpediemma on Chapter 1 Sat 17 Aug 2024 10:10PM UTC
Comment Actions
lucrow on Chapter 1 Sun 18 Aug 2024 07:55PM UTC
Comment Actions
Hopeless_Ships on Chapter 1 Sat 17 Aug 2024 10:15PM UTC
Comment Actions
lucrow on Chapter 1 Sun 18 Aug 2024 07:55PM UTC
Comment Actions
rocketmmman on Chapter 1 Sun 18 Aug 2024 06:09AM UTC
Comment Actions
lucrow on Chapter 1 Sun 18 Aug 2024 07:56PM UTC
Comment Actions
Ashburk on Chapter 1 Sun 18 Aug 2024 06:19AM UTC
Comment Actions
lucrow on Chapter 1 Sun 18 Aug 2024 07:56PM UTC
Comment Actions
TealWren on Chapter 1 Sun 18 Aug 2024 05:13PM UTC
Comment Actions
lucrow on Chapter 1 Sun 18 Aug 2024 07:57PM UTC
Comment Actions
eggtartism on Chapter 1 Mon 19 Aug 2024 01:00AM UTC
Last Edited Mon 19 Aug 2024 01:00AM UTC
Comment Actions
lucrow on Chapter 1 Mon 19 Aug 2024 10:33AM UTC
Comment Actions
magesacred on Chapter 1 Mon 19 Aug 2024 02:33AM UTC
Comment Actions
lucrow on Chapter 1 Mon 19 Aug 2024 10:33AM UTC
Comment Actions
Alexander_Writes on Chapter 1 Mon 19 Aug 2024 03:28AM UTC
Comment Actions
lucrow on Chapter 1 Mon 19 Aug 2024 10:34AM UTC
Comment Actions
StaticFish on Chapter 1 Mon 19 Aug 2024 04:00AM UTC
Comment Actions
lucrow on Chapter 1 Mon 19 Aug 2024 10:34AM UTC
Comment Actions
cranesonmyceiling7 on Chapter 1 Mon 19 Aug 2024 04:53AM UTC
Comment Actions
lucrow on Chapter 1 Mon 19 Aug 2024 10:35AM UTC
Comment Actions
101goldenretrievers on Chapter 1 Mon 19 Aug 2024 08:47AM UTC
Comment Actions
lucrow on Chapter 1 Mon 19 Aug 2024 10:35AM UTC
Comment Actions
Pages Navigation