Greatest In The League

by ahyperactivehero (ahyperactiverhero)

Summary:

Charles Rowland has it all figured out. He’s going to go to school, play hockey on a scholarship, and get a good job. That is his masterplan, and nothing is going to stand in his way.

Not even his lack of ice time. Or his questionable grades.

Thankfully, his new friend Crystal has the answer to all of this in the form of her best friend and world-famous figure skater, Edwin Payne.

They might just fall in love if they don’t kill each other first.

Notes:

Hello! The title of this fic comes from the Taylor Swift song The Alchemy. The chapter title comes from The Middle by Jimmy Eat World.

Chapter 1: Don't Write Yourself Off Yet

“Rowland!” the sharp, Scottish voice of Charles’s coach cut through the air. “Are you intending to spend your whole time on the boards?”

Charles resisted the urge to roll his eyes. If he did, he would likely lose sight of the puck, and that would only lead to a bigger issue. He could hear his teammate, Hunter, laugh as his blade caught the puck and tossed it into the air and sent it careening away from their position.

A shrill whistle, one that would haunt his nightmares tonight, cut through the cold air. He sighed and ripped his helmet off, knowing what was coming next.

“What was that?” his coach, Asa Nurse, asked. Her red hair, which was usually so pristine it might as well have been in victory rolls, looked frazzled. Which was hardly surprising, seeing as how Charles had nearly caused her to pull it out a hundred times since practice started.

She stood off to the side, not even on the ice, and put her hands on her hips. Despite her rather short stature, Charles had the distinctive feeling that she was looking down on him.

Not that he could blame her. He’d absolutely fucked up that play. And the one before that, and the one before that.

Really, he’d been fucking up all morning.

“Well?” she asked, when it was obvious he wasn’t going to answer. “I’m waiting.”

He sighed again and just barely stopped himself from tossing his stick down and leaving the ice. The last thing he needed was to piss her off even more or give anyone more ammunition to use against him.

“Just a little rusty,” he said. A charming smile and well-placed reassurance had worked with all of his other coaches up until now, but Nurse was unphased. As always.

“Rusty, hm?” she asked. Her red lips pressed together, the color nearly disappearing as she nodded her head. “Well, you know who is not rusty?” She waited, as if Charles might fill in the answer. He learned long ago that there never was a right way to answer, even if it were the “right” answer.

“Maybe, it is the rest of your team, who all decided to show up on time to start practicing? Maybe it is your team, who kept up their training over the summer? Or maybe it is your team, who all have been working very, very hard to pick up your slack,” she said, and Charles had never felt so small in front of a woman who barely cleared his shoulders.

There were a million things he wanted to say to defend himself, but none of them mattered. At least not to her, or to his team.

He could tell her that he had had to go back home and work all summer, because unlike a lot of other students, he still needed money to live on. Or that the whole time he had been there, his dad had been such a colossal asshole and kept him so busy that there’d been no time for practices or meal plans or anything else like that. Or that he would have been on time today, except he’d slept through two of his alarms trying to readjust to his school schedule, which usually took a couple of weeks. Especially once he’d landed in America.

And as for his team, well, they certainly could stand to work harder.

“You, Mr. Rowland, need to decide what’s important,” she snipped. For a moment he could feel her sharp gaze on him, searing down into his soul, before she promptly turned and blew her whistle again. “Dismissed. Consider this a gift while you think about what you all really want from this team.”

Charles sighed once again as he headed for the shower. At least the worst part of his day was over now.

XXX

“She really said it like that? All mean and spooky?” Niko asked, sipping her overly sweet coffee. Charles couldn’t even remember what all she had added to it this time, but from the look on the barista’s face, it must have been a lot.

“Yeah,” he said, brushing his hands off on each other. Crumbs fell from his hands to his lap, adding yet another step to this process. What was it about cafeteria sandwiches that were so dry?

“It’s not fair,” Niko said. “Summer is supposed to be fun. They shouldn’t expect you to do all that stuff during summer, too.”

They didn’t. No one expected Charles to have full rink access and run plays all by himself over the summer– very few people were so lucky, after all, but they did expect him to keep up some level of activity.

And he had! In between shifts at his summer job near his parents' house, he had taken to running, lifting weights, and trying to make sure he didn’t go insane, which was the real exercise.

Obviously, it hadn’t been enough.

That was what happened though when you had to go home during the summer. He’d nearly missed the end of a conference because he’d had to leave so suddenly. His mum had been ecstatic to have him back, while his dad had just found more and more shit for him to do around the house that realistically he should have been doing.

At least he was too old to lock in his room anymore. Instead, he’d been upgraded to his dad’s personal servant.

He stirred his ice around the bottom of his cup with his straw. Maybe he could book extra rink time? Everything was pretty jam packed considering several ice skaters had enrolled in their school recently, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t get some more time. In between classes and tutoring and normal practices and hanging out with Niko and, and, and…

He banged his head against the table with a groan.

“You’re being dramatic again,” Niko said fondly. “You’re always like this at the start of school. I think you experience the longest jet lag ever.”

She wasn’t wrong. There was something about traveling to America that exhausted him. It didn’t matter that he’d already been back at school for a couple weeks now, he still felt drained.

“I’m not dramatic,” he said, dramatically.

“No, not at all.” He could hear the smile in her voice. A soft hand ran through his curls for a moment, gentle and kind in a way that reminded him how grateful he was for Niko.

He titled his head to the side, just enough so he could see her from the corner of his eye. “You never did tell me about Japan,” he said. “How was it?”

Niko’s smile wavered for a moment. It was so brief that anyone else might have missed it, but not Charles. They’d been friends for too long for him to miss it. The sight of it sent something through him, some sort of sick weight that he couldn’t quite place.

“My mom is the same way she always is,” she said. Now it was her turn to twirl her ice. “I think she’s lonely.”

That made sense. After Niko’s dad had died, she had almost exclusively lived outside of the country. Her mom had tried to get her to move home at some point, but she’d refused. In fact, as if just to spite her, she’d chosen to go to the same college in America as Charles.

He tried not to imagine his own mum sitting at home with only his dad for company. That was not a thought he needed running around his head when his meeting with Coach Nurse was still so fresh.

“She can’t have you back,” he said joking. “We’ll fake our deaths and run away if we have to.”

A real smile flashed across Niko’s face. “Ooh, romantic. Are you proposing, Charles?”

“God, I hope I’d do it better than that,” he joked back.

“Yeah, I guess faking our deaths isn’t very romantic,” she said.

“I thought that was the romantic part. Like Romeo and Juliet, right? S’more the location that was the problem. I think there’s a moldy breadstick under that table,” he said, gesturing with one hand to a far table.

“Charles,” she said. “They didn’t fake their deaths. They died.”

Charles lifted his head up, confusion evident on his face. “No, I read the play. They faked their deaths to be together.”

Niko shook her head. “No. They didn’t,” she said softly, like she was telling a kid Santa Clause isn't real. “Didn’t you have to read that in school?”

He sat there for a moment, thinking back. “Never finished it, I guess,” he said.

She patted his arm, sympathetically. “I like your version better.”

With another groan he leaned back in his seat until it threatened to tip over. “S’not like it matters, anyways. Coach Nurse is going to kill me and that’ll be the end of it. No more Charles Rowland.”

Niko rolled her eyes. “I’ll miss you,” she said. Her phone vibrated, and she nearly sprang up from her seat. “Oh! I’ve gotta go!”

Charles dropped his arms from his eyes and watched as she hurriedly gathered her things. “Wait, where are you going? I thought we were having lunch?”

Pointedly, she eyed the remains of his sandwich that had turned to dust and been swept to the floor. “I’ve got an interview today; can you believe it! Just for some volunteer work for my scholarships, but still, I’m nervous.” She gave a quick spin, her arms out to her side, her dyed white hair swaying. “What do you think?”

It was hard to determine what was different about her outfit than any other day. All of it was a matching color, something she’d been doing since he met her at sixteen, but it didn’t look like a job interview outfit. He highly doubted most job interviews included pink frills, but what did he know?

“Did you add lace to your blazer?” he asked. “Is that a blazer?”

Pride flashed across her face. “I did and it is! It’s so business casual, right?”

Charles didn’t entirely know what “business casual” was, but he doubted Niko was wearing it. But there was no point in telling her that, not when she had worked so hard and it’s not like he had any better suggestions. “Brills,” he said, flashing her a quick thumbs up.

She returned it times two, and with a quick “bye,” she was gone.

Great, Niko was picking up volunteer hours and Charles couldn’t even make it through a single practice without getting in trouble.

With another sigh he grabbed his trash and cleared the table. Maybe he should just go back to his room and rot. So far, he’d been blessed enough to avoid a roommate assignment, and he was sort of hoping it stayed that way. His roommate from last year, who had thankfully either graduated or dropped out now, had thought it was a great idea to pour ramen noodles straight down the sink in their room and clog the drain. Multiple times.

Or maybe he should try and get on the schedule for more rink time. Those figure skaters couldn’t take up that much time, could they? And how much space did they really need? He just needed like, half the rink. Surely, they could work together, right?

He doubted it. Despite the years he’d spent playing hockey, he’d had very little overlap with figure skaters. Several of his teammates, however, loved to joke about how stuck up they were and how they thought they were better than some “dumb” hockey players.

On second thought, rotting sounded perfect.

It would seem, however, that the universe had other ideas.

The second he caught a glimpse of his dorm door he almost turned right back around. Brad and Hunter stood outside, fiddling with the piece of paper that said who occupied the room. Currently it only said Charles’s name, but if this day was any indication how the year was going to go, he was sure he was going to get a roommate.

“Charlie boy!” Hunter said. “We've been waiting. You locked your door.”

He rolled his eyes and tried to suppress his annoyance at his friends. It’s not like it was their fault he’d had such a shit day.

“S’almost like that means something, mate,” he said and used his key to unlock it. Neither one of them waited even a second before pushing their way inside. They also didn’t wait to start helping themselves to his game system. At least he hadn’t been planning on playing it.

The system distracted them well enough for Charles to at least take out one of his textbooks. He doubted there would be any actual reading done while they were in there, but he thought they might take a hint well enough.

He was wrong. Really, he should have known, he’d known them since freshman year.

“I just don’t get why they’re getting so much ice time now,” Brad said as he smashed the buttons on Charles’s controller. He tried not to wince at the fact that he was probably going to have to get a new one. Again.

Not that he could afford it. This Xbox has been expensive enough, he couldn’t be buying new controllers every single time one of his friends decided to get too into FIFA. Maybe if he stopped buying controllers they would stop coming in and taking over his room at every opportunity.

“Because they’ve got money,” Hunter said. “At least that’s what I heard.” He reached over and knocked Brad’s controller out of his hand and laughed when it bounced away and forced him to miss a goal.

“Wow, a figure skater with money, go figure,” Brad said. “Still doesn’t explain why they get all the ice time.”

“Sorry, didn’t we just spend the whole morning getting yelled at by The Night Nurse. You wanna go for round two today?” Charles asked, tapping his pencil against his book. It might have been the first week of classes, but his professors were already giving him homework. Welcome to third year, he supposed.

“No, you spent the whole morning getting yelled at,” Brad said. Once the controller was retrieved, he gave him a rather pointed smirk and flipped his book closed. “Which you deserved. You sucked out there.”

Charles sighed and flopped face first into his bed. And this is why he’d wanted to just come back to his room and ignore the rest of the world. He didn’t need to hear that he sucked out there, he was more than aware of that fact.

Plus, if he didn’t get a head start on his coursework, his grades were going to suck, too. Which would mean no hockey, no scholarship, no future. Just endless, mind-numbing days hearing his dad drone on and on that he’d fucked everything up.

But that wasn’t important right now. What was important was getting back into the swing of things.

“I tried, alright. But it’s a lot harder to get private ice times over there. Unless you’ve got some serious money,” he said. Which he didn’t, nor did his mum or dad.

He didn’t even need to lift his head from the bed to know that Brad and Hunter had exchanged looks. It was practically audible once you’d known them so long.

They’d grown up childhood friends and at times like this Charles almost wished Niko were a guy. Or that they’d at least met before high school. There was an inherent instinctual-ness that seemed to come from Brad and Hunter having known each other for so long.

Sometimes it made him feel like an outsider. At least when the whole team was together he didn’t notice it as much.

“You should go ask about more ice time,” Hunter said. “Like, now.”

Charles rolled his head to the side. “Why now?”

“Because mate,” Brad said in a poor imitation of his accent. “If you wait any longer all of the slots will get filled up with those rich bitch ice skaters. And if you reserve the ice we can practice, too.”

He meant they could goof off and get in Charles’s way, who actually needed to practice. He wasn’t certain if Brad or Hunter were aware that he knew this fact, but it didn’t matter much. Not when the results would likely be the same either way. But if he asked, he could at least say he tried everything.

“Fine,” he said and forced himself to sit up. His back popped and he grunted as he swung his legs off his lofted bed and dropped onto the floor. In a few weeks' time he was going to regret lofting it so high, but for now he was going to enjoy all the extra storage it opened up underneath.

“I’ll do this,” he said and jabbed a finger at them. “But you guys have to leave.”

Both of them immediately burst into arguments. “We’re just gonna come back, why make us leave?” Brad asked.

Charles swiped his keys and wallet off the hooks by the door and held it open to them. “Because I know you. You’ll eat all the fancy ramen Niko got me from Japan.” It had happened before, and more than once at that. He’d be damned if he missed out on any more of the good snacks just because they wanted to be pigs.

“Speaking of Niko,” Brad said, wagging his eyebrows “Is she single?”

A twinge of something sharp and hot went through him at his question. It wasn’t jealousy, he had never viewed Niko that way before, but rather something closer to disgust.

Maybe it was just thought of someone like his sister dating anyone.

“Aren’t you dating Shelby?” he asked. That had been a new development over the summer, he was fairly certain. Or hell, maybe it was Hunter dating her.

Brad smiled again. It was the one he used on girls at games as he threw them a puck or said he ‘d score a goal or start a fight for them. “C’mon, Charlie boy. You know I don’t do like… exclusive,” he said, almost like the word was illegal.

“Right, I think she’s actually talking to someone. Honest!” he lied.

“God, the good ones are always taken,” he said and picked his hat up off the ground. Charles resisted the urge to point out that Shelby was a ‘good one,’ because he didn’t feel as if the conversation would go anywhere.

It never did, anyways.

“Let’s bounce, Hunter,” he said. “I think Charlie’s controller has drift in it anyways.”

It probably did now.

At least they were out of his room. Even if that did mean he had to go speak with Coach.

XXX

The rink always seemed so peaceful when it was empty. Or, at least not full of hockey players yelling at each other.

Then again, maybe any space was peaceful if you took the lack of hockey players into account.

He tapped on Coach Nurse’s door, far softer than he should have. He almost hoped she wasn’t in. At least then he could say he did his best and go back to his room to crash. Or study or try and fix his broken controller or finish unpacking so Niko would get off his case about the wrinkles in his shirts.

Or laundry. God, how did he already need to do laundry? He was definitely not looking forward to on campus laundry again. When he moved out on his own the first thing he was going to look for were places with in-unit laundries.

The door swung open, startling him out of thoughts of laundry and what future places might look like. A woman stood in the doorway and glared down at him as if he had personally offended her by existing in her presence.

Which wasn't all that different of an expression from how Coach Nurse looked at him. But there was more than a hint of malice in this woman’s glare, as if she was planning to personally push him into oncoming traffic if the need arose. Or it didn’t.

Her clothes were also different from Coach’s. No matter the occasion, Coach Nurse was always dressed to impress, like she needed to personally make up for her team’s failings by dressing better and more professional than everyone else. Her hair was always immaculately styled, and her nails were usually painted a matching shade of whatever it was she had chosen to wear.

This woman was… the opposite.

Her hair was pulled back into a messy bun and her tracksuit looked as if it had seen its fair share of use lately. He couldn’t help but blink a couple of times when Coach Nurse appeared behind this woman, as if the sudden appearance of someone so well put together had thrown his brain back off balance.

“Rowland?” Coach Nurse’s voice was sharp and attention grabbing as she stepped out of her office. “What are you doing here?”

His mouth hung open for a few moments, showing exactly how smart he was feeling in that instant. “I was… I was going to sign up for more practice time?” he said, ending it in almost a question.

“No,” the woman snapped. Her eyes were staring at Charles, but she was obviously speaking to Coach. “We have a deal.”

“We have a deal that your students–” the woman glared at her, “Erm, student is free to practice as much as my team, with a signup sheet. But I will not cut my team off just because a few students transferred in, Dolores.”

Oh. So, this woman was a coach, too? She didn’t… look like a figure skating coach, but then again, he’d never really interacted. He couldn’t imagine the snobby, posh girls liked her all that much.

Then again, with the glare she was giving him, he couldn’t say he was fond of her either.

“Just want to make sure the time is split evenly,” she said and turned away. “Favoritism isn’t nice, after all.” And Charles got the distinct impression that she was fine with favoritism as long as it was in her favor.

The two of them watched as she walked away. Charles might be intimidated by Coach Nurse, but at least she wasn’t…. Whatever was going on with her.

Sighing, Coach Nurse brought his attention back to her. Her lips were pursed, and he could tell that he must have come at a bad time. Not that he thought there was a good time to beg for more practice, but there definitely could have been better.

“Come in,” she said with a nod of her head. Her heels clicked on the tile floor until she reached her nice, plush carpet under her desk. A clip board sat out in the open, which she quickly snatched up and ran through a couple of pages. He could see names and times scribbled into the cramped pages and wondered if an app wouldn’t be an easier way to schedule things. It had to be, right?

Then again, Coach Nurse was sort of old school about these things.

“There is time available on this upcoming Friday and next Tuesday and Thursday,” she said and handed him the clipboard.

He flicked through the pages, trying to make out exactly what times those would be. “I’m in class during these times,” he said.

She clicked her tongue. “Well, isn’t that a conundrum then,” she said. She crossed her arms, waiting for him to say something else.

“Can’t I book for, like, the week after next?” he asked. “Reserve a spot now?”

That grin that spoke of zero happiness was back. “Rink allotments are only scheduled two weeks out, you know this.”

Right. Except he was fairly certain they used to be month long things before she took over this department. But why would that matter to her? She’d already come in and switched everything else around, what was one more thing?

“Fine,” he said and handed her back the clipboard. “I’ll take Tuesday, and I’ll just ask someone if they’ll trade with me. Can’t be that hard, right?”

He shot her a winning smile, one that would have made his previous coach shake his head at his antics or at least told him rather good-naturedly to ‘get the hell out.’ Coach Nurse did none of those things. Instead, she set the clipboard back down onto the desk and leaned against it. She crossed her legs at the ankles, appearing for all the world far more relaxed than he was certain she was. In fact, he was almost certain she never relaxed.

“What do you want, Mr. Rowland?” she asked. She held up a finger, cutting him off. “And I don’t just mean more ice time. What do you actually want from this experience?”

He couldn’t tell if she meant about hockey or this interaction or school in general. He settled for the one that would be the least controversial. “I wanna do good. At school, at hockey. Get a good job when I’m done.”

She nodded her head. “So, you don’t want to continue playing when you leave here?” she asked.

He sighed. This was a question he’d been asked again and again ever since he’d told everyone he got a hockey scholarship. Sure, in an ideal world he kept playing and never stopped until he was actually ready for it.

But the world was hardly ever ideal. Big dreams and plans only got you so far, and he needed to be more realistic than some other people.

“It would be nice,” he said and let the rest go unsaid.

Coach Nurse nodded, as if she had expected no other answer. Her red lips pressed together again as she unfolded her hands and tapped her nails on her desk.

“There are a few figure skaters who might be willing to give up their times for you,” she said. “Though I doubt it. The coaches this year have been rather… troublesome.” Charles thought back to the woman in the hallway from before. “But you are welcome to try. And if not, you will need to figure something else out.”

The way she said it made Charles wonder if she was just talking about practice times or hockey in general. Either way, he didn’t have time to question it. There were other students to ask about swapping times with, and he already knew the first one to ask.

“Cheers,” he said and quickly left the office. He didn’t want to stick around and get another lecture from her, nor did he want to waste any more time that could be spent asking other students.

The sooner he was done with this the better.

Chapter 2: Hey, Mama, Would You Pay My Rent? Would You Let Me Crash In Your Basement?

Notes:

Hey, Mama, would you pay my rent? Would you let me crash in your basement?
[....]
I don't know what's wrong with me,
I killed the mood so naturally,
- Same Old Song by The Lumineers

Thankfully, Charles didn’t need to go very far to find the first person to ask about rink times. He was already on the ice.

Simon Cavendish was a new name, unfamiliar to him except that he’d seen it written down on several of the times slots that could work for Charles. He wasn’t a hockey player, that much Charles knew– he even knew all of the incoming freshmen by name and sight already, so that really only left figure skating. Unless the school had started some other new program and forgotten to inform anyone else about it. Schools were like that sometimes, and he really wouldn’t put it past them, but his bet was on figure skater.

Still, Charles wondered how this guy had managed to score so many prime-time slots. Even if you took the whole hockey team and combined them together, you wouldn’t get as many good times as this guy had. There had to be a secret to it, and even if Charles couldn’t figure it out, he wasn’t above bribing him for some of them.

He didn’t have any money and was pretty shite at schoolwork, but he’d figure something out. Everyone wanted something, didn’t they? Connections, party invites– there had to be something.

The rink was empty, all except for one person, hovering by the edge of the ice. He paced back and forth, occasionally stopping to pull his phone from his tight, form fitting tracksuit before shoving it back in his pocket and stomping a few feet further before doing it all again. He reminded Charles of a pacing zoo animal.

“Simon?” Charles asked. He lifted his voice up at the end, trying to make it sound like a happy question and not an interrogation.

The guy paused and turned slowly back to Charles. He blinked at him, as if he hadn’t understood the question before narrowing his eyes in a glare. “And you are?”

Right, so this was Simon.

“Name’s Charles,” he said and offered him his hand. He stared at it for a moment, as if he might genuinely turn his nose up at it before shaking his hand. “I’m on the hockey team.”

This cleared none of Simon’s confusion up, nor did it make him look at Charles any kinder. “Right. And?”

“And,” Charles said, letting the word drag out for a second before putting on one of his winning smiles. “I had a question for ya, Simon.” When Simon didn’t say or do anything other than give him a look like he was questioning his sanity, he continued. “I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind changing some time slots with me.”

“No.” His response was immediate, not even the barest of thought spared for it.

No was the answer Charles had expected, he just hadn’t expected it to be so quick or vicious sounding.

“No?” Charles asked.

Simon checked his phone, as if this conversation was somehow making him late. As if the ice that Charles needed to practice on wasn’t right there behind him.

“No. They’re my times.”

And really, they were, but did he have to sound like an absolute child about it? “Yeah, I know,” Charles said. “But there are other times, great times even.” There weren’t. Most of them were set during class or mealtimes, but still, Simon had times to spare. He could give away one of his good ones.

“Then take one of those,” Simon said. He tapped out something on his phone, his fingers like lightning across his keyboard. A scowl seemed permanently etched into his expression.

Charles smiled again, still trying to be charming. “I would, but ya see mate–” Simon glanced up at his use of the word mate, like he was offended Charles would call him that, “Those times don’t really work for me. So, I was wondering if you would just… trade with me.”

Simon sighed and shoved his phone back into his pocket, seemingly done with textually yelling at whoever was on the other end. “And why would I do that? I picked these times because they worked for me. If you wanted them, you should have been more prepared.”

And well, Charles couldn’t really argue that. There were lots of things he should have done– tried to practice more over the summer, worked on fixing his sleep schedule better before school actually started, learned that cologne was not a replacement for deodorant before Niko had to tell him in high school– but all of those things were in the past. He couldn’t go back and fix them now.

“Well, yeah, I guess,” he said, faltering a bit. “But really, I need the times. I’m willing to do anything you want.”

Not that he thought there was much he could do for this guy. It was obvious he had money, he practically reeked of it, and Charles figured almost anything else he offered would be worthless to him too. Rich guys could even buy their way into parties if they were willing to buy booze.

“Don’t you get practice times already? As part of the team?” he asked, now sounding more annoyed with Charles than anything else.

Charles nodded. “Well, yeah, I do, but this is different. I need time to work on stuff that can’t be done during practice.”

Simon glared at him. “And what do you think I’m doing, having a tea party?”

Against his own better judgement, Charles glanced at the ice. “Well, you’re not exactly on it now, are you?”

Red rushed into Simon’s face. It was hard to tell if it was more anger or embarrassment, but Charles could tell he’d struck a nerve either way.

“No, because that fucking idiot is— ” Simon’s phone cut him off. He pulled it out so fast it almost flew from his hands.

“Where are you?” His words were somewhere between a hiss and a shout. “Do you know how late you are?”

Charles couldn’t hear the response on the other end, but it didn’t seem to satisfy Simon. “You were the one who told me you wanted to come back. I didn’t ask you.”

This was way more than Charles had bargained for when he’d first thought of approaching Simon. He hadn’t figured he would just roll over and give him what he had wanted, but he’d at least expected to have a conversation about it. Outright rejection hadn’t been a true consideration, and listening to him yell at whoever was on the other line told Charles this was likely a dead end anyways.

“See ya around, Simon,” he said, because it seemed wrong to just walk away without saying anything. Then again, it didn’t seem like Simon would have cared if Charles had spontaneously combusted right then and there.

Simon flipped him off and kept yelling at whoever was on the other end of his phone call.

God, what a prick.

XXX

The main problem with asking people to try and swap times with him was everyone had chosen the times that worked best for them for a reason.

“So yeah, basically no one is willing to trade. Between the two hockey teams, new figure skaters and fucking Zamboni lessons, no one really has time,” Charles said, face down in Niko’s rather plush comforter. The pink was so bright it was almost offensive to the eyes, but he’d come to find it rather comforting over the years.

Niko’s rooms were as familiar to him as the back of his hand. It didn’t matter if those rooms were a cramped dorm room at college or her family’s rented rooms back home. He was sure that he’d even feel right at home if he walked into her room in Japan, even though he’d only seen pictures of it before.

This one was particularly fun though. Pictures covered one wall, Niko and Charles filling out most of them. There were other friends she’d made over the years too, pictures of study groups and clubs and trips he had never even considered taking. Here and there he could spot other hockey players sprinkled throughout, although they were rather few and far between. Wide shots showing Charles on the ice, scoring a goal. Him and Hunter lifting Brad up because he’d scored at the last second. A rather gnarly one of Charles that showed off his smashed-up nose from last year’s season. A couple of rather blurry photos from some parties they’d gone to in Freshman year that he could barely remember now.

In contrast, her roommate’s side was so bland it almost looked like no one had moved in. If it hadn’t been for her brief appearance during move in day, he would have thought she didn’t exist. He was fairly certain her name was Hope. Heather? Something like that, he was almost sure. She spent most nights at her girlfriend’s place anyways, which meant Charles could crash here as much as he wanted.

And God if that didn’t sound tempting.

“Zamboni lessons?” she asked. Charles could hear, rather than see, her twist her hair up into a bun and clip it, the ultimate study look for her.

He didn’t even want to think about all the assignments he was going to end up behind on if he didn’t get started. Which was what he was supposed to be doing here, not just complaining about…. Everything.

Not that he wanted to complain. It went against everything in his nature to do so actually, but everything seemed to be stacked up against him lately. If wasn't careful, he was going to end up back home, crashing in his parents' basement.

“Yeah, I guess they’ve gotta learn sometime, too,” he said. “Who would have thought?”

She gave him a playful look that he took to mean, ‘not you,’ and turned on some music with her phone. It was some kind of lo-fi beats mix, the type of music that always seemed to put Charles to sleep rather than help him focus.

It was only a matter of time before she kicked him out if he didn’t at least pretend to study. But his bag was so far away, and Niko’s bed was so comfy.

“I can’t believe no one will trade with you,” Niko said as she pulled out highlighters and index cards from her bag. She took her time spreading her cards out, the color-coded notes still boggling Charles’s mind. The semester had hardly started, and she was already so on top of everything. “Whatever happened to camaraderie? Sportsmanship? Raising morale amongst the jocks?”

Charles glanced at her from his spot sprawled on her bed. “I think you’ve been watching too many sports animes,” he said.

A mischievous look came over her face. “Impossible.”

He smiled. “Well, it’s not like it was all bad,” he said, picking his phone up off the bed. “I did get a couple of phone numbers out of it. That’s something, yeah?” He waved his phone like a prize, proud that at least that much had worked out for him.”

Jokingly, she rolled her eyes, trying to suppress a smile. “Well, at least there’s that. Maybe one of them will fall head over heels for you and let you steal their spot.”

“Hey, you laugh, but it could happen,” Charles said. “I can be pretty charming when I wanna be.”

She leaned up onto the bed and swatted his chest. “Being charming isn’t the problem. Your game is.”

He held a hand to his heart, as if she had mortally wounded him. “Ah, Niko. That one hurt.”

“Good, it was supposed to.” She turned her back to him and settled down into the floor. “Now, what are you supposed to be working on, loverboy?”

He glanced at the books he had brought with him. One was a World Literature class he should have already taken by this time, and the other was on Fluid Mechanics that he needed to pass, because he needed to complete it and the related lab to go on and take his Heat Transfer class and–

“Why don’t you tell me about your new job? Sounds pretty mint, from what I’ve heard,” he said.

She gave him a look that let him know she knew exactly what he was doing, that he wasn’t as clever as he thought he was. But, it seemed, she wasn’t able to pass up a chance to talk about the job, either.

She popped the cap back on her highlighter and paused her music.

“It’s at this ice-skating rink and it’s so cool. This isn’t some little, hometown rink, this is like Olympic sized,” Niko said, rattling off facts that she knew about the place and some of the kids she’d met there and how cool all of the people that worked there seemed. She’d hardly stopped for a breath, and Charles didn’t think she was going to any time soon.

“Sounds brills,” he said, once she finally came up for air.

“It’s more than brills, Charles,” she said. “It’s huge.”

He smirked, the urge to make a dirty joke almost too strong.

“Don’t do it, or I swear to God I’ll make a worse one and embarrass you,” she said. She would, too, he knew.

He sighed and dropped his phone next to him. Niko’s bed might be made from the same base as his, but the extra bit she spent on mattress toppers and comforters really helped to elevate it. Who knew a shitty twin bed could be so comfy?

“Don’t drool on my bed,” she warned.

Charles let out a fake snore, complete with his mouth hanging open dramatically.

“Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” she joked as she shoved his legs off her bed. His heels hit the floor with a solid thud that nearly tugged him all the way off.

He sighed. “What, and miss out on the nerd session? Forget about it.”

They both glanced down at her color-coded notes in front of her. Man, what could he do with half of her dedication? Was it possible to be burnt out a week into a semester?

“So, this place is really cool?” he asked. “You actually like it?”

She smiled again. “Yeah, I do. I mean, I’ve only worked a few shifts there, but everyone seems really nice. The kids are great, and at this rate, I’m going to complete my volunteer hours early.”

God, he didn’t even want to think about volunteer hours. Or his internship he should be trying to line up. In fact, he didn’t want to think about anything.

“What’s a rink that size even doing around here? Surprised one of the schools hasn't enlisted it yet,” he asked.

“Privately owned,” she said, sorting her index cards. “Doubt even one of the schools could afford it.”

God, what would it be like to have that much money? Or to have a rink that Charles was free to practice on whenever he wanted? He’d give anything to not have to scrounge for time slots or pay through the nose to get on the ice.

“Sounds like a pretty good deal,” he said. He made sure to give her a smile, a real one, so she wouldn’t worry. Besides, he didn’t want his poor mood to drag down any of her excitement. She deserved to be happy and to talk about her new job without Charles raining on her parade about it.

Something flickered across her face, so fast he hadn’t even been sure it had been there at all. “Could you actually come by the rink tomorrow? There’s something I need you for.”

If Charles had been more awake, he might have noticed the tone in her voice, the one that always spoke trouble for him because no matter how good Niko’s intentions might be, she always did love to cause a little bit of chaos.

Intentional or not. All roads around her seemed paved with good intentions.

“Sure,” he said, sinking down into her bed. “Sounds aces.”

XXX

The next day, Charles forced himself to actually get up and dressed properly before meeting Niko at her job. The last thing he wanted to do was embarrass her, even if he didn’t know what she needed him for yet.

Sunlight streamed through the trees, creating strange shadows on the sidewalk. He wondered if Niko would want to grab lunch after this. Maybe the two of them could go and actually have a decent meal that wasn’t caf food. Just imagine, a sandwich that doesn’t turn to dust in your hands.

The building was huge. It was only a short way off of campus, completely walkable as long as the weather was nice, and Charles couldn’t help but wonder how he’d never really come across it before. He was fairly certain that it hadn’t been open during his time on campus, although it definitely didn’t look new.

Several groups of parents seemed to be making their way inside as Charles approached. He could only assume that these were the parents of Niko’s students and followed along behind them through the wide corridors of the rink until they reached the ice.

Niko smiled and waved at Charles. Surrounding her was group of what looked like ten-year-olds, all hanging on to her every word. She’d always sort of had that effect on people, whether she was aware of it or not, and Charles couldn’t help but grin back at her.

“Alright everyone! Who’s ready for hot chocolate?” She clapped her hands together in excitement as a chorus of cheers rose up from the kids around her. “Jenny should have it ready for you over at the concession stand! Be careful leaving the ice. Oh! And make sure you take off your skates. And take care of your blades. And–”

The kids were already gone, not even paying attention to her or their parents who had just arrived. Two girls raced past Charles; their little hands linked as they beat the rest of the group to the boards. He couldn’t help but smile and wonder if he and Niko would have been like that if they’d met just a little younger.

He shoved his hands deep down into his pockets and watched as the group of children immediately set about harassing a goth woman behind the counter, who seemed to be insisting this was the “last time” she was going to give them anything.

Charles had a feeling that if Niko had her way that wouldn’t be true.

“Hey!” she said, flinging her arms out and around his neck. Even in her skates she was still a bit shorter than him. “Sorry, practice ran a little long. Emma and Becky wouldn’t stop trying to switch skates, and I think the twins are actually lying to me about which one they are, but I haven’t figured out when the switch happened, so I can’t prove it and-”

He reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. “Niko, take a breath, yeah? It’s all good.” He smiled at her and leaned down into her space, trying to get her to return it. “What’d you need me for, anyway?”

Now she returned his smile. “I have solved all of your problems!” she said.

“Oh, brills. So you’re gonna be my roommate?” he asked. “Because I heard rumors, they are still moving people around. It’s not like Hope needs you anyways.” Was her name Hope? Surely it was Hope.

“Okay, I have solved one of your problems,” she said, her smile not even wilting. She glanced behind Charles and started to wave again. “Crystal! Crystal, over here!” she said, bouncing up and down as she tried desperately to get someone’s attention.

A girl stood a few paces behind him, an openly amused expression on her face. Her arms were crossed as she hugged her thick purple cardigan to herself, tiny skulls knitted into the fabric. Her hair, which was partially dyed a faded reddish color at the ends, was half up, half down in something he’d once heard Niko call “space buns.”

She raised an eyebrow at Niko’s enthusiasm, but otherwise didn’t say a word as she walked over, her tall, thick boots still leaving her several inches shorter than him.

She was cute, he realized. Immediately he straightened up and tried to look like he hadn’t spent half the day wallowing in bed. It had taken him far more effort than he cared to admit to stumble out of Niko’s room and to his own dorm room last night, still clinging to the remains of peaceful sleep she and her study music had provided.

God, he should have at least combed his hair before he’d stepped out. And would a piece of gum have killed him? At least his clothes were clean, albeit sleep ruffled. This was his level of effort to not embarrass Niko?

“Crystal, this is Charles, Charles, this is Crystal!” Niko said brightly. She clasped her hands together for a moment, as if she were expecting something to immediately happen, but Charles couldn’t figure out what it was.

“Nice to meet you,” he said and held out his hand to her.

She smiled, a sort of sideways, half amused thing. “I’ve heard a lot about you from Niko,” Crystal said, not taking his hand.

Oh. Well, that was interesting. He glanced towards Niko and immediately understood the grin on her face. “Oh, yeah?” he asked, his turn to raise his eyebrow. “Good things, I hope.”

She gave a sort of ‘so-so’ gesture. “I heard you're a hockey player. Any good?”

Niko burst in. “The best!”

He gave her a half-hearted glare. That definitely wasn’t what she had been saying lately. “Good enough. Been on the team since freshman year, and they haven’t kicked me off yet, have they?” He meant it as a joke, but he couldn’t help but hear the bitterness that creeped into his tone.

Thankfully, it seemed Crystal hadn’t. Or it was possible she had and chosen to ignore it. “Niko told me you’re looking for some more ice time?” she asked. “That true?”

Again, he looked at Niko, a completely unserious glare on his face. How much had she told Crystal about him?

“Yeah. With all the figure skaters enrolling, it’s really eating up the time slots,” he said.

A strange look came over Crystal’s face, almost like he’d said something hilarious without even realizing it. “Yeah, yeah, I heard about that. Annoying ass figure skaters, huh?” she asked with a smirk.

It felt like a trap. This was definitely some sort of set up, but he couldn’t figure out what exactly was the trap. “I guess. At least the one I met was,” he said. Because really, fuck Simon.

“Crystal owns this rink,” Niko said, the words almost bursting out of her. “The whole rink. And there’s a lot to do, huh?”

Once again, Charles felt like he was missing half the conversation. Unfortunately, Crystal seemed to know the other half.

“Yeah, there’s a lot to do,” she said and unfolded her arms. “Events to set up, bills to pay, blah, blah, blah.” She leaned in, like she was letting Charles in on a secret, and he was forced to bend down to her level. “But you know what I really hate? Locking up.”

“Locking up?” Charles asked.

Crystal nodded and leaned back. “Yup. I hate it. It’s easy, though. Just have to wait around until the last person leaves and then lock the doors.”

He nodded, unsure exactly what she was getting at. Niko, it seemed, was unable to hold back.

“Crystal says you can use the rink for extra time, as long as you lock up!” she said and clapped her hands together again. “Isn’t it great? You’ll get plenty of time to practice now!”

Charles held his hands up to get her to slow down. “Wait, wait, wait,” he said. “I haven’t even said I’ll do it yet. I’ve got school and practice and…” He let his words trail off because that was really all he was doing at the moment. This was his junior year of school, and even though it had just started, he could already tell that this year was going to be difficult, and he’d already been in enough trouble with Coach Nurse, he really didn’t need to add missed practices to her reasons for hating him.

“You don’t have to do it every night,” Crystal said. “We’d have a schedule.” She looked at Niko, who’s eyes were big and shining and puppy dog-like. “It’s fine, though. I understand. School kicks everyone’s ass, am I right?”

It did, but still Charles felt bad for turning down the opportunity.

“Yeah. Thanks though,” he turned to Niko and hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “Ready to go?”

She was pouting. That was the first thing he realized. The second thing he realized was she had already decided something, and once Niko decided anything that was it.

“Can you give us a second, Crystal?” she asked, flashing Crystal a quick smile. Crystal nodded, and Charles barely caught the amused look on her face before Niko pulled him away by his arm.

“What’re you doing?” she squeaked.

Charles rubbed his arm where she had pulled him. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“I’m trying to get you a free rink to skate in!” she said. She gave him a light slap on his arm. “But you’re ruining it.”

He tried not to look back over at Crystal. The last thing he needed was this pretty girl to see him angry, even if it wasn't real anger. Yet. “I don’t need charity, Niko,” he said. “I can get all my time at the school.”

She rolled her eyes. “Okay, yes, but all of the times are booked, and games are going to start before you know it. You think Coach Nurse is going to go any easier on you just because you haven’t had more practice time?”

He crossed his arms. “I practice four times a week.”

“With the team! You know you need individual practice time,” she said. She glanced over his shoulder, back to where they had left Crystal. He didn’t even want to know what they looked like right now. “Besides, what was it you said before? You’d charm a pretty girl into letting you have some time?” She raised her eyebrows at him, as if this were the smoothest thing anyone had ever done.

He sighed and titled his head back to stare at the ceiling. That wasn’t what he had meant, and Niko knew it.

“Just try it. Please? This place is amazing, I really do think you’ll like it here,” she said, clasping her hands in front of her face and bouncing on her toes.

Puppy dog eyes always worked for Niko.

Charles let out a puff of air and reluctantly nodded his head. “Okay. Alright, yeah. I’ll do it.”

The squeal Niko let out could have shattered eardrums. “Perfect, because I already told Crystal you would. This is going to be so, so good!”

Of course she’d already told Crystal. What else did he really expect? And what could possibly go wrong? All he needed to do was close up a few nights a week and the rink would be his to practice in. All in all, it really sounded like Crystal was the one getting the raw end of the deal. It’s not like she knew him well enough to trust him.

He turned back to Crystal, who must have clearly heard every word they’d said to each other if the look on her face was anything to go by. Sheepishly, he walked over, hoping that she had somehow at least missed Niko’s comment about charming a pretty girl.

“It’s a deal,” he said, sticking his hand out. “But it does kinda sound like you got the short end of the stick.”

Crystal smiled; the same kind of smile Niko had last night. Her hand was warm and firm as she gripped his in a handshake. “We’ll see,” she said.

Suddenly, Charles couldn’t help but feel like he had lost a battle and a war he hadn’t even known he was taking part in.

Notes:

Thank you to arrow and dani in the dbda haunt server for Simon's last name, y'all are the real mvps lol!

Edwin will make his appearance next chapter!

Chapter 3: I Was Enchanted To Meet You

Notes:

All I can say is I was enchanted to meet you
- Enchanted (Taylor's Version) by Taylor Swift

The office at the ice rink was large and cluttered. Old red carpet covered the floor, as if it had walked straight out of a 90’s movie theater and laid down to die. The walls weren’t much better, although they had at least been painted a rather unassuming beige color.

Crystal gave him a tight smile as she stepped behind the desk. She flicked through a few stacks of paper before seeming to give up and settle for logging into the computer.

Despite the chaotic desk and outdated room, it didn’t feel like the bad sort of clutter. Little knick knacks lined one wall, clearly trinkets that she must have picked up while traveling. City names were prominently displayed on them, although he couldn’t imagine why someone would display Madison, Wisconsin next to somewhere like Paris, France on a traveling shelf.

The wall opposite was a window that overlooked the ice. From up here he could see groups of parents finally separating their kids from the crush of children surrounding the goth woman’s concession stand while Niko waved goodbye to everyone.

He almost felt bad for the woman. He couldn’t imagine having to deal with countless children begging you for hot chocolate again and again.

“Ah ha!” Crystal said finally, clicking aggressively on her computer. “Jesus, if he doesn’t stop trying to move everything around, I’m going to kill him.”

He tried not to let his eyes linger too hard on her cluttered desk. He highly doubted it was whoever she was cursing fault alone.

Some sort of scheduling app flashed across the screen. There was a rather long list of names he glimpsed: Niko, Crystal, Jenny, Mick, on and on they went to the point that Charles couldn’t help but wonder how many people actually worked here. Sure, it was a big building, but it was one he hadn’t even known was open until now. How many people, realistically, could work here?

“Obviously, your and Niko’s schooling is the most important thing,” she said, and the way she said it made her seem older than she likely was. It was as if she had said this a million times before, and Charles couldn’t help but wonder how old she actually was or how she’d already come to own or manage a rink of this size at her age.

“Do you go to school?” he asked. He sat down in one of the chairs in front of the desk, enjoying how plush the material was under him. Who knew office chairs could be so comfy?

Crystal let out a sharp laugh, almost as if she were surprised by the question. “Me? No. Me and school didn’t really get along,” she said, trailing off as she tried to double-triple-quadruple click on something on the screen. Her eyes flickered over to him, as if she realized something. “I’m on break. Technically. Like a gap year in between years.”

The way she said it made it obvious she likely wouldn’t be going back if she had her way. So, no schooling andshe could afford to run this place? She must come from money-money if that were the case.

But she didn’t act like it. Not in the way a lot of other people did on campus. Her clothes seemed fashionable, but practical. Her cardigan wasn’t just for show, he could tell that it probably kept her warm in the cold rink, and her overalls would likely do the same. Her boots seemed like the only thing that was a little out of place, but then again, maybe not. He was sure adding a couple extra inches to her height made her a little bit more serious in some people’s eyes.

“S’nice way to spend a gap year,” Charles said. “Running a rink. Must be a pretty sweet gig. Ya get lots of college kids here, or?” He let his question trail off, the real question he wanted to ask hanging out there. Would there be any people like rich-dick Simon hanging around?

“College kids? No, not really. Currently, we’re focusing on events for younger kids, like Niko’s class. Teaching them how to skate, respecting their equipment and space around them, that sort of thing,” she said. “We have a few running right now, but Niko’s class is by far the most popular.”

That wasn’t surprising to Charles. Niko might have only been here for a few days, but he knew how utterly magical his best friend could be, especially to kids. While she struggled to interact with people her own age, she really did flourish around children.

“Yeah, she’s aces,” he said with a smile.

He could feel Crystal inspecting his face, although he couldn’t imagine what she might be looking for. “So, Niko tells me you two have known each other a long time. That true?” she asked. Her fingers were flying across the keyboard, and Charles could just barely see the hint of a schedule actually starting to take shape on her screen.

“Yeah,” Charles said, “we have. Met when we were sixteen and been best friends ever since.”

“I see,” Crystal said, and it was the most loaded ‘I see’ Charles had ever heard.

“Not like that,” Charles said, quickly. “We’re just best mates, really.”

This had happened more than once. Charles would fall for some girl, she’d fall back, and then eventually they would be made uncomfortable with how close he and Niko were. Understandable, he supposed, boundaries were something everyone was allowed to have in relationships, but he couldn’t imagine being friends with Niko any differently than he was now. So what if they crashed in each other’s bed from time to time? Niko didn’t even like guys like that, and Charles could never see her as anything other than his little sister.

The last thing he wanted to do was make Crystal think he and Niko were like… a couple or something.

“You know you don’t have to explain that to me, right?” she said. “I’m fairly certain that’s like… illegal to ask in an interview. And not the fun kind of illegal, either.”

“Kinda thought I already had the ‘job’,” he asked, with quotation marks. “Didn’t know this was an interview. Woulda been a lot more charming, wouldn’t I?”

She smiled, tapping her mouse a couple more times. “Oh, so this was you being uncharming, good to know.”

“Nah, just not full charming. Like Prince Charming or something,” he said, smiling back.

He could tell she was trying to suppress a smile, and he counted that as a win. “I’m assuming you don’t currently have a work visa, right?” she asked. “Niko mentioned that might be an issue.”

He shook his head and leaned back in the chair. The vibes of the room were growing on him now that he was a little less thrown by this whole situation. Though he couldn’t help but wonder when she and Niko had had so much time to talk. He had the distinct impression that he was missing a lot of context here. “No, I don’t. Technically, I can work on campus jobs but…” He trailed off and gestured to the room that was clearly not on campus.

“Right, right,” she said, still tapping away. “So just a straight up trade then. Ice time for locking up. And we can deal with any volunteer hours you might need, too.” Charles almost shuddered as he thought of all the kids from before. “Any days completely blocked off for you?”

He pulled up the game and practice schedules and slid his phone across the desk. “I wasn’t lying before when I said I was really busy, you know. Understand if this doesn’t work for you,” he said.

Once games got going, he really would be limited in his availability. Games, class, practice, sleep all of it left very little time to do anything else.

Crystal scrolled a couple of times, glancing back and forth between his phone and her schedule. “That’s fine, Charles,” she said. “Like I said, school is the most important thing, and hockey is part of school for you. A job shouldn’t come between you and that.”

That was exactly the type of thing a good employer or interviewer should say to you, and yet Charles couldn’t help but be thankful she’d said it anyways. His priorities might be skewed, but that didn’t mean he was entirely off.

There still had to be a catch, he was sure, but it had to be worth it. The alternative would mean begging someone like Simon to trade with him again, and Charles would rather chew glass than do that.

So, if Crystal needed him to lock up a few nights here and there, well, that was an easy trade. Not like he really had any special plans for this year anyway.

XXX

The same song started up for at least the hundredth time in a row, and Charles realized that glass actually sounded pretty appetizing right about now.

When Crystal had asked him to stay and lock up, he hadn’t expected to stay past midnight. At least, not on his first time closing. He wasn’t sure what time he had expected to get out of there, but he’d known from the annoyed look on Jenny’s face it was going to be an interesting night. She met him at the door for God’s sake.

“Everything’s turned off in the concession stand and catering areas, so you don’t have to worry about that– I’ll go over that with you another time. All the doors are locked except for this one, you’ll just arm the system and lock it as you leave,” she said, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “Realistically, he’s probably only going to be on the ice for an hour more, which means you can leave the second he’s done. I’d just like… hangout in the office or something. You got homework? Do homework.”

She hadn’t specified who he was– or even who she herself was really, but Charles hadn’t liked the way she’d dropped the keys in his hand and nearly stomped out to the parking lot.

Either way, it hadn’t seemed worth it at the time to go and investigate. Music had been blaring from some of the overhead speakers when he’d arrived, and the last thing he had wanted to do was bother whoever was listening. He did understand practice after all.

It wasn’t until the music had looped again and again and again that Charles had questioned it. And his sanity. And the sanity of whoever was listening to it.

Not that he was going to complain. He didn’t need to look a gift horse in the mouth after all, Crystal had been more than accommodating with his schedule, but really? After midnight? Charles was supposed to have been back in his dorm ages ago, feasting on the remains of stolen cafeteria cereal and whatever ramen noodles he’d managed to squirrel away from Brad and Hunter.

Rushing home would still leave him getting back well past one, and that didn’t even include a shower or dinner or doomscrolling on his phone until he felt like his eyes might bleed. He could already tell his AM practice was going to be miserable, and he had no one but himself to blame.

Or… maybe he could blame someone. The bloke on the ice seemed like the perfect person, actually.

Maybe this had been a bad idea. This just happened to be another in a long line of things Niko had planned to try and “help” him, with mixed results. Would he have more time to practice? Yes, except he was going to sleep through his scheduled team practice at this rate. Had he gotten a date with Sarah Monroe because Niko had talked him up? Yes, but her brother had nearly broken his nose when he’d caught them on a date together.

He sighed as he tossed his textbook back in his bag. There was no point in even pretending that he was reading it anymore. It’s not like he could retain anything with the same music pumping through the speakers over and over and over again. Who even did that? At least Charles listened to other songs when he trained.

The song cut off rather abruptly, only to start again from the beginning.

“That’s it,” Charles said and grabbed his stuff. He was kicking whoever it was out now. He didn’t care what kind of arrangement they had with Crystal, it was clearly taking advantage of both her and Charles’s good will to stay this late. And if he was someone who was paying, well, he could ask for a refund from Crystal tomorrow.

Jenny’s “only an hour on the ice” could go to hell. Try four hours at least. Who even skated for that long? What could he even be doing? If Charles had to skate for more than four, uninterrupted hours he would probably die.

He stomped out of the office and down the stairs towards the rink, cursing himself for not having just done this sooner. He had the keys, he decided how long they stayed there. And if this guy had a problem, he could take it up with Crystal or Jenny.

“That’s it, wrap it up, mate,” Charles said, raising his voice to be heard over the music.

He lifted his head and actually looked at the ice for the first time in hours.

There, in the center of the rink, was a guy, likely around Charles’s age if he had to guess. Even if Charles hadn’t spent hours attempting to study in the office, he would have been able to tell this guy had been at it a while. His long sleeve shirt was almost drenched in sweat and his close, form fitting leggings were covered in powdered ice. His skin, probably usually quite pale, had taken on a rather red look, though whether that was from the cold or the exertion Charles wasn’t sure.

His wavy brown hair had dropped down into his face, which he quickly brushed up and back as he moved around on the ice. It was like he hadn’t even heard Charles. Or maybe he was simply that good at ignoring him.

He moved fast, far faster than Charles usually did on the ice. Not that Charles was slow, far from it, but the sheer speed he seemed determined to pour out of his skates seemed a tad excessive.

Vicious was the way Charles would have described him. Beautiful was another.

Enchanting, Niko’s unhelpful voice supplied in his head.

His arms were graceful, not the awkward, pumping motion most hockey players insisted on using, just in case they might need to throw some elbows around. No, these were long and flowing, each movement clearly having a purpose and timed almost precisely to the music playing overhead.

Charles leaned against the boards and watched as he skated over the ice. Despite all his years in rinks, he’d never actually watched a figure skater do much of anything, much less with as much determination as the guy in front of him. There was a flow and a rhythm to him, something that made it look natural but not gentle.

He watched as he tucked his arms close to his chest and started to spin, faster and faster. This was the one thing Charles actually had seen someone do and just watching him was enough to turn Charles’s stomach. Around and around he went, faster and faster as he slowly grabbed his leg, intending to tuck it up while he sat down spinning.

Only something must have gone wrong because he suddenly crashed to the ice in a spray of slush and curses. He didn’t get up.

Charles didn’t even hesitate as he jumped over the boards and raced across the ice. The music continued overhead, echoing strangely in the silent rink.

“Oi, you alright?” Charles asked as he slid down next to him.

A look of strained pain covered his face as he tensed his whole body. One of his hands reached down for his leg, while the other seemed determined to pry ice from the floor. Controlled breaths, likely the result of a breathing exercise, were the only answer for a moment before green eyes opened and stared up at Charles in confusion.

Charles had never actually noticed anyone having green eyes before. Maybe it was the red in his cheeks or the blue of his shirt that brought the color out, but either way he felt a bit struck noticing it.

“Who are you?” he asked. He pushed himself unsteadily up into a sitting position, ice clinging to his skin. “What are you doing here?”

Charles tried not to smile at his rather posh accent. So, he was British, too. Neither Crystal nor Jenny had mentioned that when she had assigned him to close up the rink. He didn’t know why, but it seemed like an odd thing to leave out. Almost everyone he met loved to point out that they “knew someone with Charles’s accent.” As if every British person knew each other.

He could honestly say he’d never met this guy before. He would have remembered, for sure.

“I’m Charles,” he said and stuck his hand out. He tried not to be offended when all he received was an odd look for his efforts. “Crystal told me to lock up.” He didn’t feel like explaining his whole arrangement with this stranger, but he figured that would get his point across well enough.

The downed skater balled his hands into fists, a surprisingly angry look coming across his face. “You can tell her it’s fine. I will lock up,” he said. He made an attempt to stand, but didn’t get very far before his body tensed and he sat rather heavily back down on the ice.

His green eyes closed and he titled his head back, nostrils flaring as he let out slow, pained breaths.

Charles didn’t think he could even get up off the ice without his help, much less lock up. Did he even have keys? Neither Crystal or Jenny hadn’t mentioned that fact. If they had, he might have been tempted to leave him to his own devices hours ago.

Now, staring at the clearly injured skater on the ice he was glad he hadn’t.

“No can do, mate,” Charles said. “Crystal trusted me with this, and you,” he stuck his hand out for him to take, “look like you need help.”

With more speed than Charles would have guessed him capable of, the other boy turned away and leveraged himself up off the ice, one of his legs still stuck out awkwardly as he hobbled to his feet. “Crystal deciding to trust a stranger has no bearing on me. I am perfectly capable of locking up, just like I always do.”

Okay, Charles noted. So this guy and Crystal must know each other. And it seemed like he probably did have a set of keys. Not that that was going to deter Charles now.

He walked next to the other boy, making sure to keep at least one arm out should he need him. He could see bumps starting to rise on his skin, the slight shivers that had just started to overtake him as they reached the edge of the ice.

Immediately the guy set about taking care of his blades. He put on hard guards and practically shuffled over to the nearest bench where a rolling bag labeled Payne sat. It looked expensive, and so did the equipment inside it. Definitely a figure skater.

He didn’t even bother to put on the layers of hoodies next to him. Instead, he took his hard guards off and meticulously wiped his blades down with a cloth, taking great pains to make sure they were clear of all ice and water.

Charles hovered nearby, unsure what he should do. It was obvious that he was unwanted, but how could he just leave him? The tense line of his shoulders and the rigid way he held himself said that he was likely still hurt, and it wasn’t exactly in Charles’s nature to just leave someone who needed him.

Besides, he still wanted to lock up behind him. Both because he was supposed to do it, and also because he was afraid what might happen to this Payne guy if he just left.

He looked out at the ice. Long grooves were worn into it from where Payne must have been practicing over and over and over. No wonder he’d wiped out. If his leg didn’t do it for him, the ruined ice probably would have.

“That’s gonna take a lot of passes to clean,” Charles said, sympathy wincing at the work it would take. He was sure they would be thrilled to realize the work that needed done on it. Had Crystal known how badly he was going to run through the ice when she’d agreed to let him stay?

The other boy huffed as he shoved some black and blue soakers onto his skates. They matched his long sleeve and leggings so perfectly Charles couldn’t help but wonder if that was intentional.

“Is there a reason you are still here?” he asked, his words perfectly clipped and haughty.

Charles gestured to him.

“Told you. I gotta lock up,” he said.

Payne let out a rather dramatic sigh as he zipped his bag closed. His shirt rode up his back, revealing pale skin peppered with bruises from what Charles could only assume were some rather hard falls on the ice.

“Funny enough, I don’t remember hiring a guard dog,” Payne said.

“Funny enough, you didn’t hire me,” he said.

“Funny-funny enough,” Payne said, and Charles couldn’t even laugh at the ridiculousness of this argument because he was already up and on the move, “I don’t give a damn.”

He didn’t even bother to put on his shoes, a rather sharp looking pair of boots, before he grabbed the handle of his bag with one hand and tried to juggle the remote for the music with his other. It clattered to the ground and forced him to stop and glare down at it.

He closed his eyes, clearly debating how he was going to go about bending over for it when his arms were full and he was clearly injured.

Pity wasn’t something Charles usually held in spades, but he decided to take it on him as he grabbed the remote and turned it off. He didn’t expect much, maybe a thank you or at least a nod of acknowledgement, but he got even less than that.

Payne turned and walked away, his back still that tense line that made him look a little ridiculous.

“I thought you were gonna lock up?” Charles called, just because he felt like being a jerk.

Payne freed one hand long enough to throw him a rather rude gesture over his shoulder before barging through the doors and into the night.

Well, Charles was fairly certain he’d found the catch to Crystal’s agreement.

Notes:

Ohhh and Edwin makes his appearance! This was just a taste of him, but next chapter is his. We can thank Fatal and Gen for encouraging me to give him a POV chapter next.

And speaking of! There is some wonderful fanart of this story over on tumblr at fairandfatalasfair so go on and check that out! I hope this links correctly; I'm not used to posting links or anything lol!

Chapter 4: You Say You're Really Hurting, At Least You're Feeling Something

Notes:

"girls and boys keep lining up to see if they can measure up,
but they look good and they feel wild
but it will never be enough
you say you're really hurting, at least you're feeling something,"
Hello Cold World by Paramore

There were many reasons Edwin had to hate Crystal’s parents, but he would always be grateful to them for buying a rink so close to a university. He knew that looking back, there was no way Crystal’s parents or his own had known he would end up taking skating so seriously, but he still couldn’t help but be the slightest bit grateful to them.

He was sure if his own parents had known, they would have either bought a rink closer to a more “prestigious school” or banned skating altogether. It was sometimes hard to tell where they fell on the issue.

His bag shifted, sending spikes of pain down his spine. Gritting his teeth together did nothing to stop the pain, but it did stop him from audibly reacting. Between that and his leg, it was shaping up to be a rather long day.

A day that could have been much shorter if Crystal had simply answered her phone when he’d tried to call her last night. Or this morning. Or responded to any of the messages he had sent her.

But no. Instead, here he was, going out of his way to go to the rink early in the morning before class because that was the only way he was guaranteed to catch her. It was hard to ignore someone when they were standing right in front of you, after all.

Hard, but not impossible. He and Crystal had certainly done their own fair share of ignoring each other over the years. In fact, if the last couple of years were anything to go by, he and Crystal were basically professionals at pretending the other didn’t exist when they were properly motivated.

But Edwin didn’t want to go back to that. As loath as he was to admit it, he’d missed his best friend. Crystal could be a pain in his ass, but she was his pain in the ass, and he was hers. Until everything that had happened with David and Simon and everything else they had been nigh inseparable, practically glued at the hip.

He was fairly certain that his parents had hoped he might one day gain a crush on Crystal. That if he was going to go the route of a figure skater, he could at least have a steady, rich girlfriend as well, but it never happened. He was also fairly certain that her parents had hoped something similar, that if she ended up with Edwin then nothing bad would happen to her because it was Edwin.

A useless, but ultimately well-meant thought, he was sure. At least they had given up on such hopes in recent years. Or at least he thought they had. He hadn’t actually spoken to Crystal’s parents since the hospital.

He turned a corner, and the rink came into view. It wasn’t much to look at, especially compared to the other buildings surrounding it, but even glimpsing it was like coming home.

The building was rather squat, several stories shorter than the tall buildings that had bloomed around it, and the large glass window and brown paint covering it almost gave it the appearance of a car park rather than a prestigious rink.

There was a plan to fix up the outside of it, he knew, but he wasn’t sure why. It already looked better than it had a year ago when Crystal had showed up at his door and explained her plan.

“You can’t go to America by yourself,” she said. Her voice was hard, but if he listened closely, he could almost hear the tears hidden just under her words.

“Why not?” he sniped. He’d been doing that a lot lately. With everyone. “As I recall, you did it plenty when we were younger. And it was me who had to come and bail you out every time.”

Crystal’s hands fisted at her side, as if she were resisting the urge to hit something. The wall, his bed, him, who could guess really. Maybe any of the above if they got too close. “This is different. You’re–”

He glared, daring her to finish her sentence. One more word and he would be done. Their friendship would be over in a way no one else, not even a supernatural force could fix. “I am what?” he asked, but it was hardly a question. He knew what he was.

“It’s just different,” she said, shrugging off his tone. “And it was stupid of me to run off all those times too, as you might remember.”

It had been. It had caused him far more problems than either one of them were willing to examine every time she disappeared. But that was in the past and they were moving forward.

“I’ve got a plan, okay? So, you don’t just… run off and disappear, too,” she said.

Which was pointless. Edwin had never run off or disappeared. Not unless he was chasing after Crystal.

“Fine,” he said, fisting his hands in the blanket on his bed. “What is your plan?”

She smiled, probably the first genuine smile Edwin had seen on her face in a year. “Do you remember the old rink?”

Crystal had put in a frankly astounding amount of work since then. The rink had gone from being untouched for several years to being a full-fledged working space again. She’d even got it in her head to do programs for children and reached out to the university for volunteers.

All in all, it was a wonderful if not busy place to be. Which is why Edwin could understand hiring someone, you had to when it came to a space like this. And Jenny and Mick were fantastic people who took their jobs seriously, despite the slow start to business they’d had.

But this was a step too far. Hiring someone to essentially kick him out at night? Did she really think that he wouldn’t see through it? Anyone else unfamiliar with Crystal’s methods might be able to view this as an oversight on her part, but Edwin knew what it was.

And he wasn’t happy about it.

He marched into the rink, past Jenny’s concession stand where she was making... muffins? Oh, that was right, there was an early class today and she’d agreed to make them something sweet. He wasn’t sure why she did it, she only ever ended up complaining about it in the end. But Edwin was beginning to think that was just how Jenny was. Someone who would give their all but complain the entire time.

He could certainly relate.

They smelled heavenly as he walked by. In his rush to get out the door that morning he’d failed to grab even so much as a granola bar. Yet another thing he could blame on this whole “Charles situation.”

Crystal was actually in her office by the time Edwin got there. It had been a minute since she had managed to beat him there, and it forced him to stop at the door and stare at her in slight shock.

“Mornin’, Edwin,” she said, sipping her coffee.

“Who was he?” he asked.

She tapped her mouse, pointedly ignoring him. “Crystal,” he said, dragging out her name with extreme enunciation. “Who was he?”

“You know, most people say, hello? How are you? Did you sleep well last night?” she said, setting her cup down. “Whatever happened to manners?”

He moved into the office, trying so hard to not stomp his frustrations into the carpet. He knew that all of him would regret it if he did. Crystal’s eyes seemed to roam over him, tracking each of his steps. He forced himself to walk evenly and steadily, not even so much as a hitch as he moved.

Forget that he’d already spent too long getting dressed that morning because his bruised and aching body had refused to move properly. That he hadn’t had time to grab anything for breakfast before class. Or that he was going to have to walk back to campus for class and to train with Simon this afternoon because Crystal hadn’t been answering her phone when he’d tried to talk to her about this. That none of this would have even happened if this Charles had simply minded his own business.

He pressed his lips into a thin line of a smile. “Hello, Crystal, how are you? Did you have a good evening, because I certainly did not. A stranger marched up to me in the middle of practice last night claiming that he had been hired by you to ‘lock up’.” He put quotation marks around the offending words.

She put on a fake smile of her own. “Thank you. His name is Charles, and I did hire him to lock up. In a way, anyway.” She knocked her knuckles against her desk a couple of times before turning her attention back to her computer.

“Yes, I believe he mentioned that,” Edwin said. He pressed his fists together before catching himself and shaking them out. Doing so would be like admitting defeat in this argument. “He mentioned that after he so rudely interrupted me.”

Clearly that was what had happened. If Charles hadn’t been hovering, watching him for who knew how long, Edwin would have had a better practice. That must have been what had thrown him off and caused so many falls– the unrelenting and unexpected stare of a stranger.

His leg ached, reminding him of the open chair next to him. It was comfortable, specifically picked by Crystal because she and Edwin had planned on spending so many hours there. Yet sitting down would be like admitting defeat, no matter how much pain he was in.

Instead, he locked his leg and dropped his bag into the waiting chair.

“Oh good, you met,” she said, still staring at the screen like he might disappear.

“Solitaire can wait, Crystal,” he said, because he knew she wasn’t actually working. There was a limited amount of work that ever got done in the morning, at least until her coffee kicked in, and he doubted her early arrival had actually made her any more productive.

She sighed and leaned back in her chair. It seemed to make her look even shorter than she normally did, far more like the little girl he’d grown up with. Especially when she rolled her eyes and crossed her arms like that. All she needed to complete the look was to stick her tongue out at him and call him a “dork.”

“Go on,” she said, as if she were allowing him the ability to rant. The urge to turn and walk away was strong, but he wouldn’t cave that easily.

“Why was he here?” he asked.

“Because I don’t want to sit here night after night?” she said. Her fingers plucked invisible dust off her sweater as she spoke. “Because Charles needs more time on the ice to practice and agreed to do that for me in return.”

Edwin’s brows wrinkled. “Time on the ice?” he asked.

Crystal nodded. “He plays hockey on campus.”

Edwin’s brain ground to a halt. He thought back to the nice, easy going grin Charles had thrown him, the worried look on his face when he’d just suddenly appeared above him after he’d fallen. He was a hockey player?

“Why on Earth did you agree to let him practice here?” Edwin asked. Even he could hear the disbelief in his tone, the way he’d practically spat the question out.

Crystal twirled a strand of her hair around her finger. “For the reasons I just listed?”

“No, I mean–” he stopped. What did he mean? It’s not like he owned the rink, despite Crystal’s family having dedicated a lot of it to him. If she wanted to have someone lock up, that was her business. Yet, everything had been going so well between them lately. Or at least he’d thought.

“How did you even find him? Did he ask you about free rink times?” he asked. Crystal was more than capable of standing up for herself, he knew, but he still wanted to make sure that someone wasn’t taking advantage of her good will.

It took a lot to get on Crystal’s good side, and even longer to earn her trust. He couldn’t imagine her just hiring some guy off the street.

“No,” Crystal said quickly. “He’s friends with Niko, and she was the one who mentioned he needed a place to practice. Apparently, in her words, he is ‘responsible, loyal, and willing to do anything for more time on the ice’.”

“Perfect,” Edwin rolled his eyes. “She has described a husky. Are you going to hire one of them next?”

Crystal gave him a pointed look. “He’s here to stay, whether you like it or not. As long as he wants to, of course.”

Well, wasn’t that just fantastic? Crystal makes one new friend and all of a sudden she is giving rink times to hockey players and letting total strangers close up. “Have I done something wrong locking up? Left lights on, doors unlocked, alarms unset?” he asked. He hadn’t. He’d made sure to always leave the place safe and secure if he stayed past Crystal, his outburst last night notwithstanding.

Slowly, Crystal’s face softened. “This isn’t about that, Edwin,” she said. “You know that.”

Anger flared to life in his stomach, brief and blinding before it faded. They’d had this argument again and again, and he really didn’t have time to have it once more. He leaned forward and placed his hands on her desk. The desktop was cool and smooth, despite the nicks littering its surface. Some of them had been made years ago, young Edwin and Crystal play fighting with hockey sticks like swords, while others had come later, a slightly older Edwin and Crystal getting too aggressive with each other playing Slapjack.

Her parents had been pissed about that, but they’d never removed the sticks from the rink. Not even after Crystal stopped skating. He wasn’t sure they ever knew about the rounds of Slapjack. It had never been mentioned if they did.

“I can continue to lock up,” Edwin said. “Having someone here will only be a distraction for me.”

She leaned forward; her eyes locked on to his. “Maybe that’s a good thing. You promised me you’d go home at a reasonable time. Every night.”

Edwin stepped back, caught off guard. “I have.”

Crystal glared. “After midnight is not reasonable, Edwin. Jenny told me you’ve been staying late again.”

He rolled his eyes again. Of course, Jenny had ratted him out.

“I had a bad practice. I was late and needed to work on my routine, still,” he said, holding out his hands as if that might placate her. “These things take time, Crystal.”

Neither one of them said anything for a moment, the silence falling heavy on them. It was a test of wills to see who would break first, and unfortunately– depending on motivations– they would both rather stand there and die than admit defeat.

“Charles is going to keep locking up. You’re just gonna have to go home when he says so,” she said. She turned back to her computer, as if this conversation was done.

“What? Are you going to take my keys?” he asked. “Fine. I will leave them with Jenny.”

“Edwin,” she said, calling out to him before he could even turn. “Don’t be like that.”

“Like what?”

“An ass. You’re being an asshole right now,” she said.

He paused. Was he being an asshole? Perhaps, but he couldn’t deal with any of this right now.

“I have to go,” he said. “Class and practice.”

Her brows furrowed. “Practice?”

He nodded. “Simon and I are practicing on campus today. It seems like I will be practicing there a lot more now,” he said.

She stood up, as if she meant to follow him. “Edwin, listen,” she said. “You can still practice here. That’s not what this is about.”

It might not be what it was about, but it’s what it felt like. When they’d moved here together, Crystal had promised him that the rink would be his whenever he needed it, as long as he was willing to help her with some of the aspects of running it.

And he’d done that. He’d helped her with everything she had asked for help with and more! And now she had– what? Gone behind his back to hire someone to lock up? To kick him out when he was practicing?

A twinge went through his back as he turned to leave, nearly forcing him to his knees. This was nothing though, he knew that he was fine, and he was not going to let something like this interfere with him.

“Coach King thinks it is a good thing to practice on campus,” Edwin said, as a hail mary. Crystal might fight him every step of the way through life, but she did seem to have respect for Thomas King.

“Not if he knew you were still practicing here like that,” she said. “He’d cancel your practices in a heartbeat if he knew.”

Edwin frowned. It was true that King had set restrictions on his practices, but surely the both of them could understand why he needed to do it. King was a phenomenal skater and an even better coach. He didn’t get where he was by sitting around not skating.

“Well, it is a good thing I’m not practicing here anymore, hm?” he said as he turned to leave, snatching his bag out of the chair.

“Edwin!” Crystal called out, her voice echoing down the stairs. “Would you just– argh! You are so stupid sometimes.”

Stupid? Edwin was being stupid? She had hired someone she didn’t even know to lock up the most important place in their lives. What was she going to do next, give him a key to her apartment? Or had she already?

Now that was being an asshole, Edwin caught himself. It wasn’t fair to throw things they had done in the past at each other. Not when they were supposed to be moving on and leaving the past behind them.

He couldn’t go back to not speaking to Crystal again, to only seeing her at family functions their parents had both insisted they attend. It would kill him. Literally, figuratively, and in every way that mattered.

He sighed as he hitched his bag up higher. There would be time to apologize later, when both of them had cooled off. For now, he needed to focus on getting to class.

“Hey kid,” Jenny’s voice rang out, catching Edwin off guard. Part of him wanted to ignore her, to pretend like he’d never even heard her. But then he imagined her chasing him down if he did so and figured it would simply be easier to turn around and talk to her now.

“Yes?” he asked. Had she heard their argument upstairs? He held himself stiffly, bent slightly forward as he turned back towards the concession stand. There, on the edge of the counter, was a brown paper bag and a to-go coffee cup.

“Breakfast,” she said, raising an eyebrow at him.

He opened his mouth to argue, to say that he hadn’t ordered any or left any there, but stopped abruptly when she tilted her head in a challenge. Sighing, he walked back over towards the offered items and quickly picked them up.

“Chocolate muffin with black coffee,” she said, before he could even ask. “And I don’t want to hear it about the sugar.”

Edwin closed his mouth again.

“Do you need a ride?” she asked.

Campus was only about a ten minute walk away. It’s not like any part of him hurt so bad he needed to get a ride from anyone. That was part of the reason he’d left his own vehicle at home.

“No. Thank you, Jenny,” he said, as politely as he could.

She side-eyed him, seeming to try and size him up. “I’ll get my keys.”

“No!” Edwin said, more pointedly. Both of them jumped a slight bit at his raised tone. “That is– thank you again, Jenny.” He held up the bagged breakfast and coffee and started to back away. “For the breakfast and for the offer. But I really must be going.”

He could hear her call out after him one more time before he rounded the corner and was in the clear.

XXX

“Stretching really isn’t an optional sort of thing, you know,” Thomas King’s voice said, far too close to Edwin’s ear. “It’s mandatory. Required. Compulsory. All of those other big words that mean you have to do it.”

Edwin glared at him over his shoulder. He was stretching. He had stretched. It was hardly his fault that Coach King refused to accept that as an answer.

He could feel Coach King’s eyes roam over him, picking out all of the other things he was doing wrong as he tried to lay down and stretch. “What are those?” he asked, pointing a rather stern finger to Edwin’s side.

Edwin pulled his long sleeve shirt back down. He knew that he should have tucked it in, no matter how stupid or strange it would have looked. At least then he could have avoided this conversation.

“I tripped,” Edwin lied.

Coach King snorted. “Edwin, you really expect me to believe that you, a fucking figure skater, tripped and bashed yourself against the ground hard enough to do that?”

Edwin had seen the bruises from the night before. Ice was quite hard, and after hours of crashing over and over again he did have to admit that a good portion of him was black and blue.

Technically, it wasn’t a lie. He might not have ‘tripped’ but he had fallen. On the ice. Where he knew Thomas wouldn’t approve of him having been last night, which was part of the whole reason he should have tucked his stupid shirt in.

“If you had a boyfriend, I would be calling the cops,” Thomas said, “But because I know emotions scare you and you’re practically married to this sport I am going to say this one more time: stop practicing outside of our schedule. Got it?” His eyes drilled into Edwin’s, challenging him.

This wasn’t the first time they’d had this conversation. It wasn’t even the first time this week that they had had to have a conversation about Edwin making better choices revolving around his practice schedule, and Edwin didn’t want to hear it again.

Edwin leaned forward, simultaneously stretching and opening up his back in a way that made it feel much better. “Yes,” he said.

If King were any of his old coaches, there would be an expectation there. To yes, sir or yes, ma’am them and move on to whatever it was they told him to, but both of them knew that wasn’t King’s style.

“Oh, now he wants to stretch,” King muttered sarcastically under his breath. “Where is Cavendish?”

Edwin rolled his eyes. “Simon should be here soon. He had a meeting before practice.”

King sneered at that. “Well, he’s not really my student, so he’s not really my problem. Finish those stretches and we’ll get started.”

Edwin sighed and leaned forward until his face was almost touching the ground. While he was never one to turn down the chance to practice, he almost wished he’d chosen to sleep in that morning. If Crystal would have simply answered her phone, he might have been able to do so.

Instead, he had gone to bed late and woke up angry and early to meet her at the rink. And look at how well that all had worked out for him. He couldn’t even remember anything that had been said in his classes, the last three hours passing by in a blur until he’d been freed to come to the campus rink.

He hissed as he moved into an upright position, breathing through clenched teeth. That was the worst part about everything; not just that it hurt but that it sometimes literally took the breath away from him.

He started to get up when King’s voice rang out. “Again, Edwin. You’re not done.”

He rolled his eyes as he moved back into position. This was taking up far too much of his time that he could be actually skating. He almost never skated in the campus rink unless it was with Simon. King insisted that he make a habit of skating there though, as he didn’t want him to get too used to Crystal’s rink.

Complacency makes for a shitty skater, he’d told Edwin when he had first put up a fuss about the campus ice.

Edwin wasn’t complacent. And he wasn’t a new skater. He had spent years of his life skating around the world, there was hardly an arena he hadn’t skated in. He didn’t need the occasional venture to the campus rink to remind him of that.

But then again, Simon wasn’t exactly welcome at Crystal’s. If he wanted to train with the both of them, that would have to be on campus.

“If you’re too injured to stretch, you’re too injured to practice,” Coach King said.

Edwin leaned further down into his stretch, his arm reaching for his leg. Already, it was starting to tingle, the tell-tale sign of it going numb before they’d even started practicing.

“I am not injured,” Edwin said, making a point by deepening his stretch.

He could almost hear him roll his eyes. “Fine, tired, whatever it is. If you’re too blah, no practice.”

Before they could get into it again, Simon barged in. His boots clicked loudly against the floor as he rushed towards the bench to trade them for his skates.

“You’re late,” King said, turning his attention away from Edwin.

“Edwin was way later the other day,” Simon said, waving his hand at him. Edwin could feel his face heating up at Simon’s words. He was right, of course, Edwin had been ‘way later.’ But he wouldn’t have called Simon out like that in front of his coach.

“Edwin is my student, I’ll get on to him if I want, thanks. But right now, I want to get on to you. Don’t waste our time, Cavendish,” Coach King said. His tone alone had Edwin’s face burning with embarrassment, even if it wasn’t directed at him.

Anger that quickly morphed into a haughty grin flashed across Simon’s face. “Not your student, so you can’t really get on to me, huh?”

Well, this was going fantastically.

A cat-like grin grew across King’s face, making him look almost like a maniac. “Good lord,” Edwin said, rolling his eyes.

“If you don’t want to listen to me, stay off the ice,” King said.

Simon, clearly intimidated but never one to back down (even when he should) stepped up to King. “This is my time slot, you should leave.”

King shook his head. “Both of you are wasting my time. Grab your hard guards.”

For a moment no one moved, not even Simon. Finally, Edwin sighed and grabbed his skates and hard guards.

“Just one,” Coach King said.

“One?” Edwin asked.

“The two of you are going to go around the rink with your hard guard on your right foot, and then when you’re done, you're going to switch feet and go around again,” King said, pulling out his phone.

Edwin exchanged a look with Simon. This was training they had done before a million times growing up, but that didn’t make it any easier or any more fun. If they lost their edge or put the foot with the hard guard to the ice, they would wipe out.

Not to mention the strain it would put on their core and leg muscles. Edwin’s were already aching just thinking about it.

“Waste any more of my time and I’ll double it,” King said before blowing his ear-splitting whistle.

Both Edwin and Simon scrambled to secure their skates and guards before getting to the ice. This wasn’t exactly the sort of practice Edwin had had in mind for today, but it was better than some of the other alternatives his previous coaches would have come up with if he were caught not listening to them.

Still, he couldn’t help but curse Crystal and Charles in his mind. This practice wouldn’t have been nearly as bad if that Charles had simply let him lock up rather than interrupting him last night.

“He acts like he’s not going to double it anyway,” Simon muttered as he and Edwin took to the ice.

Edwin couldn't help but smile in agreement.

XXX

Edwin needed coffee. If he didn’t get caffeine in him within the next ten minutes, he was either going to pass out or commit a crime. Whichever one seemed easiest when the time came.

The line at the campus coffee shop was long, as it always seemed to be in the early evening. The transition from ‘school day’ to ‘late night studying’ had already kicked off while they were in practice, leaving them with a huge line of under caffeinated college students ahead of them.

Simon sighed as he stood on his tiptoes to see how many people there were. Too many, if you asked Edwin, but he wasn’t going to count. Why give his misery a number?

“Oh my gosh!” a girl said excitedly next to him. “Hi, hi! You’re Edwin, right?”

Edwin turned away from Simon to the girl standing behind him. Her eyes were bright as she stared at him, clasping her hands in front of her face. He could practically feel her eyes roam up and down him as she confirmed his identity.

“Yes?” he asked uncertainly. A quick glance at Simon let him know that he was just as clueless as he was.

“Niko!” she said, jabbing her hand out in front of her and nearly jabbing Edwin in the stomach in her haste. He stepped back, nearly stepping into Simon in the process.

That name was familiar. He was fairly certain he should recognize the girl in front of him, and yet his mind was coming up blank. Did he have class with her? They’d only been in school a short amount of time, and he hadn’t exactly spoken to anyone in his classes.

“You’re Crystal’s friend, right?” Niko asked, her voice slightly unsure now. “I saw you at the rink?”

Simon scoffed behind him. Right, Niko. That’s who she was. Crystal’s newest hire, aside from this so-called Charles.

It was Niko who had put in such a good word for Charles. Niko who had convinced Crystal to hire him.

The urge to ignore her, to brush off her greeting and friendliness was strong. He knew he could do it; one dismissive gesture and the girl would likely be hurt enough that she would leave him alone.

“Jesus, that rink,” Simon muttered under his breath. Niko’s eyes moved to him, suddenly realizing that Edwin had been with someone. Her smile fell a bit and she retracted her hand.

“I am sorry,” Edwin said, quickly taking her hand for a quick shake. “I am terrible with faces.”

Her face lit up. “Oh! That’s okay! It was just once and from, like, a distance! I didn’t really expect you to know me.”

Simon rolled his eyes and snorted. “Come on, Edwin,” he said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. “We should get going.”

Edwin glanced to the line in front of them. “I thought we were getting coffee?” he asked. His brain felt so slow, every part of him begging to give into sleep. If he didn’t get some sort of caffeine now, he was likely going to crash before any studying could be done.

Which was the last thing he needed. Already some of his professors were talking about essays and needing to pick topics from his selected readings or time periods. How was he supposed to even think about such things without coffee?

“We can always make some at yours,” Simon said. Which was true, except Edwin had been looking forward to someone else making the coffee. And not having to clean up afterwards. Plus, if he got coffee here, he could make it as sweet as he wanted without Simon judging him.

Niko’s eyes flicked between them. “Studying? What are you majoring in?” she asked.

Edwin sighed and shifted his feet. This was a conversation he hated to have. Why was it always one of the first things people asked you? What is your name, do you live on campus, what is your major?

None of them were fun to answer.

“Edwin’s English and I’m Business,” Simon said curtly.

“Oh, cool!” Niko said, although Edwin could feel her hesitation.

“And what are you majoring in, Niko?” Edwin asked when it became obvious that Simon wasn’t going to.

“Early childhood development,” she said. “I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do, but I do really like kids and figured that would probably be the best for me. I’ve got some internships coming up this next semester and I am so excited!”

She sounded excited. Then again, everything Niko did was with excitement. It was a strange sort of almost contagious energy about it that Edwin had to admit he admired.

“Great,” Simon said in a tone that was anything other than. “Edwin, this line isn’t moving, let’s just go.”

It was moving. Two people had already gotten their coffee in front of them. But his legs were aching from standing so long, and he still needed to walk home. He wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be able to do either one.

He shifted, trying to relieve some of the pressure on his legs. A glance down from Niko stopped him instantly.

“We could sit down until they’re done!” she said. “I’m sure they’re almost done, and I wanted to ask you some questions about skating.”

Edwin’s stomach clenched. So that’s what this was. A few people had already recognized him at school, but so far it had only been other skaters. He hadn’t expected one of Crystal’s latest hires to recognize him.

Or if they had, he expected them to keep it to themselves.

“Oh?” he asked, his voice high and tight. Was it hot in there?

“Yes!” she said, oblivious to Edwin’s creeping panic. “I have this student, Becky, and she wants to be a figure skater so bad she can taste it, but I don’t really know much more than the basics. Crystal mentioned that you were a pretty good skater so I–”

Simon’s rough laugh cut Niko’s word off. She stopped and looked at Simon.

“Pretty good skater?” Simon asked, disbelief evident in his tone. “Edwin? A pretty good skater?”

“I– um,” Niko said, looking back to Edwin for guidance.

Who decided what temperature they kept coffee shops at, anyways? Edwin was fairly certain there was no need for it to be this hot in there. It was August after all, and weren’t Americans fond of their air conditioning? Someone should turn that on.

“Next!” the barista said, waving them over.

Niko turned, glancing back to the barista and then at Simon and Edwin. “My treat?” she asked, holding up a rather cute pink wallet with a cat on it. “In exchange for a couple of questions?”

Edwin’s face was hot, and his body ached in a way that let him know he was going to regret the practice he and Simon had done today. Coach King might have taken it easy on them by his old coaches’ standards, but that didn’t make it easy. If he stopped moving, he might not get back up.

“Pass,” Simon said, at the exact same moment Edwin stepped forward and said, “Yes, thank you.”

He could feel Simon’s glare and annoyance as he stepped up with them. He wouldn’t leave, Edwin knew, but he was likely going to be a dark cloud over the whole conversation. If it wasn’t for the fact that they had promised to study together, Edwin might have tried to convince him to leave.

But doing so would mean walking back to his place alone. Which would mean carrying his bag and potentially not being able to make it all the way there by himself. And he’d be damned if he had to call someone for help in that situation. Who would he even call? He’d pissed off Crystal and Jenny that morning, so that ruled them out. Thomas was always available, but he shuddered to think of the lecture he would receive if he did.

“Perfect!” Niko said with a grin. She turned around and ordered something Edwin had never heard of before but had at least six different pumps of different syrups and loads of caffeine from the sound of it.

“I will also have one of those,” he said, surprisingly Niko and Simon. The barista gave him a wary look, clearly wondering if he was aware of what he ordered, before shrugging and tapping it into the computer.

Simon turned his nose up as he ordered his plain black coffee. It was what Edwin would have ordered had he not followed Niko’s lead, and clearly what Simon had expected him to order.

They sat down at one of the tables near the counter while the baristas worked on their drinks. Edwin could feel his body starting to settle in, the way his leg and foot slowly started to tingle with numbness.

He forced himself to sit straight, to pay attention to whatever questions Niko had for him.

“One of your student’s wishes to be a figure skater?” he asked. It was hardly a surprise, a lot of children wanted to be. While hockey might be the bigger sport around here, there were plenty of people who figure skated or did other forms of ice entertainment. It was part of the reason Crystal’s parents had established the rink here.

Niko smiled. She flipped her long, white hair over her shoulder and just dove into the conversation. “She does. Her name is Becky and she really, really loves skating. Her and her best friend Emma keep trying to trade skates because Becky’s parents got her this hockey skates, and Emma’s got her these figure skates– which is totally not cool, that is not what the list recommended, but anyways–”

Niko was good at rambling, Edwin realized. It hardly seemed like she needed to come up for air between words. She did it so effortlessly he hadn’t even realized how much time had passed until their drinks were placed in front of them.

Simon squinted at their drinks. “Is that… a cookie?” he asked, gesturing to the crumbled bits on top of their drinks.

Niko, seemingly unable to pick up on the judgment in his tone, nodded. “It is! Double chocolate chip all mashed up and sprinkled on top.”

It did seem to be a tad excessively sweet. But it was after dinner, and he and Simon would likely end up studying late enough that he wouldn’t have time to make anything. Plus, his energy levels were so low. He’d crawl under the table in this coffee shop if he thought they might let him sleep there. A little bit of extra sugar was hardly the worst thing that could happen to him.

Tentatively, Edwin picked it up and sipped it. The cookie made it rather hard to classify this thing as a drink, but the taste wasn’t bad. Far closer to a milkshake or some other drinkable dessert, but it at least tasted good.

“Well done, Niko, this tastes amazing,” he said. He did his best to ignore Simon’s stare of disbelief as he sipped. “So, what questions did you have for me, exactly?” Because Niko had managed to ramble on and on, and never actually got to the point she’d initially asked Edwin to sit down for.

“I was wondering if you could talk to Becky sometime. Not like, teach her or anything, she’s still learning after all, and I wouldn’t want to bother you. But I think it might help her? To maybe talk to someone who has been there too, you know?”

Not really. Edwin had started learning how to ice skate almost as soon as he could walk. His mother and father had insisted that he and Crystal learn to do something productive that could “get their energy out,” and somehow, they had settled on ice skating? He wasn’t even sure how anymore.

Crystal of course had wanted to be a hockey player. She’d been vicious about it too, one of the best he’d ever seen. Some part of Edwin was sure that if there had been a professional women’s league when they were children, Crystal might have stayed with it for longer.

But things changed and she found other hobbies. Art, fashion, drag racing, if you could name it, she had probably done it. And Edwin stayed with figure skating.

It seemed as if Simon had similar thoughts. “I doubt Edwin could help her,” he said, tapping his fingers against the side of his to-go cup. “He was practically born with skates on. That doesn’t exactly make for a great teacher.”

Something squirmed in Edwin’s gut. Simon wasn’t wrong, per se– he almost never was, but there was something to his words that twisted Edwin the wrong way. Just because he’d never tried to teach anyone, didn’t mean he’d be a bad teacher. It didn’t matter that he’d been thinking a very similar thing only moments before, it bothered him that someone else thought the same thing.

“Oh,” Niko said. “I understand. It was a long shot anyway, I know you’re training very seriously.” She seemed to mean what she said, and yet it still seemed like an understatement to refer to his training as ‘very seriously.’ This was his life. Of course that was something he was going to take very seriously.

“Great, glad that’s cleared up,” Simon said and stood up. He reached for Edwin’s bag as if he were going to pick it up for a moment before he stopped and pointed to it. “Don’t forget that.”

Edwin looked at his bag and then back at Niko. Her eyes were turned slightly down, as if she might be avoiding his or Simon’s eyes.

“I could talk to her,” he said, hesitantly. “I am often at the rink, anyways. Provided Crystal lets me back in.”

“What?” Simon asked at the same time Niko jumped up from the table.

“Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!” Niko said, springing forward and wrapping her arms around Edwin. He could feel the stab of electric pain jolt down his back as she leaned into him, and his leg finally went completely numb.

“It is no problem,” he said, forcing a smile. If he left now he could probably make it to his bed before he collapsed. If he were lucky, he might even be able to squeeze in a shower.

Everything else turned into a sort of roaring in his ears as Niko exchanged goodbyes with them and hurried off, her all yellow outfit slowly fading into the evening light outside.

“Ridiculous,” Simon sniped. “Asking you to mentor some little girl? Who’s only just started skating? Doesn’t she know who you are?”

It occurred to Edwin at that moment that she likely didn’t. All she had referred to him as was ‘Edwin’ and ‘Crystal’s friend’. It was unlikely she was aware he had nearly qualified for the Olympics until…

“Here,” Simon said, snatching his bag from his back. “I’m not going to scrape you up off the sidewalk if you pass out.

Was that likely? Edwin stepped forward, his weight nearly buckling on his numb leg. Static tingled up and down, sharp stabs of pain as he tried to walk forward. It was undignified and if it had been anyone other than Simon, he would have been extremely embarrassed.

For the briefest of moments, he debated calling for a ride. Jenny would give him one, he was sure, and if not, it’s not like it would be expensive to get him back to his place with a rideshare service.

But he wasn’t going to do that. He could walk home. Especially if Simon was carrying his bag. It would hurt, and be far slower than he normally was, but he could do it.

He had no choice, really.

Notes:

This chapter just kept growing and growing and every single time I thought it was done I remembered more and more that I wanted to add to it, so I'm stopping it here for now! Edwin's officially in the story now, yay!

Chapter 5: This Love (Love) Hate (Hate) Relationship

Notes:

I push you and you push back
Two opposites so alike that
Everyday's a roller coaster
I'm a bump you'll never get over
- Shut Up And Kiss Me by Orianthi

The next day, Charles was free to practice as much as he wanted after one of the children’s classes. He felt a little embarrassed showing up after a group of literal toddlers were learning how to skate, but practice time was practice time as he kept reminding himself.

He tried not to think of Payne as he glanced up at the speakers above his head. What was his deal anyway? Was he one of the new figure skaters? Crystal had said they didn’t really cater to college kids, but this guy had definitely been college age.

He tried not to think about his long legs or arms, how he’d seemed determined to move faster and with more agility than Charles had ever seen anyone do before. That wasn’t the point of figure skating, as far as Charles was aware, but he could tell that Payne had been like a man possessed on the ice.

Someone, clearly aware that Charles was going to come out for practice, had placed a goal at one end of the rink. There were also several stick handlers scattered throughout the ice and a few rebounders pushed to the side.

He’d never seen a rink that wasn’t intended for ice hockey have so much hockey equipment.

“There’s also a small gym onsite,” Crystal’s voice said from behind him. “If you ever want to use that.”

He startled and nearly dropped his gear bag as he spun around. It felt embarrassing to get caught ogling everything.

“What is with this place?” Charles asked, trying to keep the disbelief out of his tone.

“So you like it?” she asked, coming over to stand next to him. Her hair was pulled back into a bun today, with a few pieces falling free into her face, and she somehow seemed simultaneously more relaxed and stressed than she had the day before.

“Like it?” he asked, gesturing back to the ice. “This is brills!”

“Good,” she said, her tone bright as she leaned against the boards. “Figured I needed to do something to bribe you. After your first night, that is.”

Immediately, Charles pictured Payne spinning around on the ice again. It was a nice image, beautiful really, before it had all gone to shit.

“Yeah, about that,” Charles said. He tried to hide his wince after he thought about Payne’s crash to the wrecked ice. The guy might have been a prick, but something had seriously been wrong with him. Practicing for that long and then literally limping off the ice? That was a serious accident waiting to happen.

Crystal blew out a puff of air between her teeth. “Don’t worry, it’s been handled,” she said.

Charles raised an eyebrow at her. “Oh, it… has?” he asked.

Crystal nodded. “He knows he’s not supposed to stay that late. From now on he should leave when you tell him to.”

While that sounded wonderful for Charles’s sleep schedule, that wasn’t exactly what he had meant.

“Right. I mean, that’s great and all, but that’s not it,” he said.

Now it was her turn to raise her eyebrows. “Oh,” she said. “Well, then. What was it?”

Charles turned towards her completely, wanting her to understand. “That guy, Payne or whatever his name was, he was hurt. He’d been here for– I don’t even know how long, and then he fell and he–” Charles cut himself off, his eyes darting up to the ceiling. “S’dangerous, what he was doing. He could’ve been seriously hurt.”

She turned, a faint look of disbelief on her face. “Wait, were you… worried about him?”

Charles tilted his head. “I mean, yeah? The guy almost couldn’t get up off the ice, Crystal. That’s… bad,” he finished lamely. He didn’t have the words for how bad that was. They skated around on literal blades, no one should ever be doing what they were at less than their best. Especially not someone jumping and spinning around like that.

She nodded and crossed her arms. “I know. Believe me, I know.” A strange look seemed to cross her face, one Charles wanted to question, but he didn’t feel as though he had the right. It felt as if there were something bigger going on here than just a skater practicing themself to death. “He never knows when to stop.”

Charles rolled his eyes. It seemed like a poor excuse to him. If this guy wasn’t willing to stop or listen to his body, then someone needed to enforce it. Timed rink usage, mandatory escorted skating times, just something to make sure he wasn’t hurting himself.

“I won’t just sit by while someone hurts themself,” Charles said, which sounded bold even to his own ears. What was he going to do about any of that? It’s not like he could physically force the guy off the ice the next time it became an issue.

Well, he probably could, but he doubted that would be good for anyone involved.

She nodded. “You don’t have to. Like I said, he should listen to you from now on when you tell him to wrap it up.”

Charles nodded in return. It wasn’t perfect, but at least it was something.

“Anyways, I figure you might want to actually practice,” she said, giving him a pat on the shoulder. “Let me know if you need anything else, okay?”

“Cheers,” he said as she walked away. There was more than enough stuff out there to keep him occupied all practice. This was the type of setup that Charles literally dreamed about. If he’s had this stuff back home, he never would have gotten so rusty.

A few warm-ups and circuits on the ice later, he felt as if he could truly get started. The first thing he worked on was his passing. There was a move he’d been working on that required him to open his body up a bit more before faking a pass and slipping the puck through his feet, but he kept screwing it up every time he tried to execute it during regular practice.

Between the stick handlers and the rebounders though, he was starting to get the hang of it. Open himself up, drop low, swing the puck through his feet and pass.

Without anyone else there it was hard to truly see how effective his passes were, but they were at least going where he was intending, which was the least he could hope for.

Technically, unless that Payne guy showed up, there would be no more people needing to use the ice today according to the schedule Crystal had emailed him– but he still felt as though he were hogging the ice. Maybe it was because he wasn’t used to having such a big rink to himself or used to the absolute freedom that came from not having a set schedule, but either way he found himself feeling almost… guilty about it.

Maybe Payne would show up, and Charles could stop feeling that way. A nice little verbal spar to chill him the absolute fuck out.

“Bravo,” a voice said from the edge of the ice. “Bravo, truly. Except for the part where there are usually a few more players on the ice, of course.”

Charles stopped and jerked his head up. A woman stood at the edge of the ice, a gaudy gold dress catching the rink lights and reflecting it back, even through the black shaw she had around her shoulders. Her heels were tall, despite the rather heavy looking iron cane she had clasped in one hand as she gestured at him with the other.

“What is this? Ghost hockey?” she asked and let out a laugh as if this were the funniest thing ever. One of her hands reached out and smacked the chest of the young man next to her. Charles almost hadn’t noticed him with his dark clothes and short stature next to the rather vibrant woman.

The guy gave her a half smile although it quickly turned sour as he turned back to Charles. He got the feeling he was used to her stupid jokes.

“Just practice,” Charles said, nodding towards the training items.

“You hear that, Monty?” she said, her voice almost nasally. “Practice. Doesn’t look like he needs practice to me, does he?”

Charles gave her a grin. He wasn’t sure if she was trying to be an asshole or not, but he figured he’d take her at face value. “Cheers,” he said.

“Oh, how British,” she said and pulled out an honest to God pipe. “How… quaint.” She lit the pipe and puffed on it, making sure to blow the smoke away with the side of her mouth.

Charles didn’t even know people still smoked pipes. If he thought about it, he figured the only type of people who would smoke a pipe were old men who refused to get e-cigs or something. Yet this woman almost made it look cool, if you could forget the whole ‘gives you cancer’ bit.

“Esther!” Jenny called out, damn near stomping over from the concession stand.

“Oh goodie, the goth one is here,” she said with a smile towards Charles. She whirled around, as if this were some sort of magic show, and Charles could hear the fake smile through her words. “Jenny, you look lovely. Except for that hair, what have I told you about that hair?”

Jenny glared at her and crossed her arms. The boy, Monty, stepped backwards until he was nearly hidden behind Esther completely.

“What’re you doing here, Esther?” Jenny asked. In one of her hands was a piping bag and what looked like nacho cheese dripping out of it, but somehow, she made it look threatening.

Charles didn’t even want to know what she had been doing with it before now.

Esther sniffed and waved the hand with the pipe around. “What, a girl can’t stop in for a visit?” she asked.

Jenny said nothing but definitely looked less than impressed.

“Fine, I’m looking for the uptight one. Not you, the other, more athletic one,” she said.

“He’s not here.”

Esther tsk’ed as if Jenny had said something particularly disappointing. “I’m sure that’s not true, he always is. Maybe hidden away in that little office?”

“Well, he’s not now,” Jenny said. “And we’re closed to the public.”

Esther motioned vaguely towards the front doors. “Door was unlocked. Besides, I just wanted to talk to him, is that a crime, Jenny?”

“He’s got a coach and an agent, so really, what could you possibly need to talk to him about?” she asked, uncrossing her arms. A glob of melted fake cheese fell to the floor with a quiet splat.

Charles felt as if he had stepped directly into a soap opera. This was just like those old shows his Nan would watch, the kind that usually ended with someone falling down a lift shaft or finding out they had a twin brother or something.

He wanted to walk away, or at least give them privacy, but it felt rude to start practicing again with them standing right there, and he couldn’t leave without walking through them to grab his stuff.

Esther huffed for a second, a long stream of smoke blowing out. Quicker than anyone expected, she turned back to Charles. “Fine, what about you, hm?”

“Me?” Charles asked, blinking.

“Me?” she mocked. “Yes, you. What are you? Twenty?”

“Twenty-one,” Charles said, hoping to convey his confusion with that short statement.

“You play college hockey?” she asked.

“Esther. Knock it off, you can’t scout from our workers,” Jenny said.

Esther frowned and bit her lip in a pout. “Oh, but you guys only hire the best, Jenny-kins.”

If looks could kill, Esther would have exploded into a million pieces. “Fine, fine,” Esther said, puffing from her pipe. She turned back to Charles and tapped her heavy cane against the ground. “But you need a rep, let me know kiddo.”

“Out!” Jenny said.

Finally, Esther and Monty shuffled off towards the doors. Charles was sure it wasn’t a moment too soon either, because Jenny’s head looked like it was about to explode. Monty looked back one last time, his eyes trailing over Charles and up towards Crystal’s office.

“And no smoking in here!”

For a moment, neither Jenny nor Charles said anything. “I’m gonna make sure they’re gone. And actually, lock the door,” she said with a pointed look. Which wasn’t even fair, Charles hadn’t been the last one inside!

“Who was she?” he asked before Jenny had even made it two feet away.

She stopped and crossed her arms again, once more slinging orangey-yellow cheese. “Esther Finch. She’s an agent who specializes in being a pain in everyone’s ass.”

An agent. An actual sports agent had just been standing in front of Charles, and he’d looked like an absolute idiot in front of her. He noted her name so he could go and look her up later.

“She sounded like she was looking for someone?” Charles asked.

Jenny rolled her eyes. “Yeah, she always is, unfortunately.” She looked up, her dark eyes making contact with Charles’s. “Look, she’s a massive asshole. Just steer clear of her, okay? And if you see her in here again, let her know she’s not welcome. And if that doesn’t work, come get me.”

Charles was fairly certain that he could handle someone like Esther, but he wasn’t going to argue that point with Jenny. One, it hardly seemed worth it, and two he didn’t want to get on Jenny’s bad side. If Jenny said he should get her, he would do that.

He kicked at the ice, barely letting his blade skim the top of it. He really had been hitting his stride there for a while, if he could remove the strangeness of being the only one on the ice. But that moment was gone now, and his stomach was growling. Even the idea of Jenny’s plastic-y cheese sounded delicious now that he was hungry enough.

“And yet you acted as if I had destroyed the ice the other night. Now look at you,” Payne said.

Charles jerked his head back up.

Payne stood at the edge of the ice; his hands clasped behind his back. Charles hadn’t even heard him approaching. It was August, but still he wore a long sleeve shirt, the material just thin enough that he was likely freezing in the rink but sweating outside.

Charles honestly hadn’t expected to see him so soon. He looked over him, trying to see any traces of the burnout he’d witnessed, but there were none. His hair was perfectly in place, his clothes well-fitting and in order.

It was as if that night had never happened.

He skated the rest of the way over, resisting every ounce of asshole in him that told him to spray ice at him. That wasn’t going to help him come off as a mature, responsible person.

Neither one of them moved. Tension hung in the air, so thick it could have been cut with a knife. Charles wasn’t even sure why it was there; it’s not like there was really any need for this feeling.

“Was there something you needed?” Charles asked. He looked around, but it would seem as though everyone else was gone. Jenny must have actually followed them all the way to the door.

How had Payne missed them?

Annoyance flickered across Payne’s face. It was almost funny watching the way his rather smooth, posh face would pucker like he’d tasted something sour before smoothing back out.

“I wanted to… apologize,” he said. He brought his hands from around his back and held one out, waiting for a handshake.

Charles stared at his hand for a moment. “Apologize?” he asked.

Payne let his hand drop back to his side, disappointed. He could see the confusion growing in his eyes as they roamed over Charles. “For my behavior the other day. It was… It will not happen again.”

Charles nodded. He wasn’t actually bothered by the way he’d spoken to him, not when he really thought about it. It was clear that Payne had been in– well, pain, when he’d snapped at Charles. He would hardly be the first person on Earth to lose his temper because something hurt him.

Not that Charles wanted to look at that feeling too closely.

“S’fine, mate,” he said, smiling. “Was just worried about ya.”

Payne stared at him. “Worried?”

Charles nodded. “Yeah, worried. I mean, what coulda happened if I wasn’t here, ya know?”

He could see his words settling over Payne. There was a sort of uneasiness that he wasn’t used to seeing in someone who came off as confident as Payne, despite their limited interactions. “It seems pointless to worry about me. I was and am fine. Whether you were there or not.”

Charles shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Well, yeah, you seem that way now,” he said, gesturing to him. “But the other night it seemed like–”

“Like I had everything under control until you interrupted me?” Payne cut him off.

Charles crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. “Interrupted you? I didn’t interrupt you until your ass was already spread out on the ice.”

Molten anger seemed to shine in Payne’s eyes. Yet Charles wasn’t scared. If it came down to an actual fight, Charles knew he could win. He body checked people regularly, and those were people much larger than Payne. If he wanted to, he could lay his ass out flat in seconds.

Not that he wanted to. The image of pain flashing across Payne’s face as he’d tried to literally tear up the ice the other night was too fresh on his mind. He hated to imagine that look on his face again, especially if he were the cause of it.

“I do not know why I bothered,” Payne said as he turned around. He waved over his shoulder, as if he were dismissing even the thought of Charles. It was so reminiscent of the other night Charles couldn’t resist calling out.

“What, not gonna flip me off this time?” he teased.

Payne spun around, his movements far faster and graceful than Charles had anticipated. He thought for sure he was going to flip him off now, but instead Payne narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms.

“If Crystal or Jenny ask, I will be in the gym,” he said. “I expect you will be done here soon?”

That had been the plan. Charles’s feet already hurt from his skates and he could feel his hands redeveloping their calluses from handling the stick, even through his gloves. It was a good sort of ache, one he knew meant that he would sleep well that night after a nice, warm shower.

“Sorry, mate,” he said, slicing his stick across the ice. “Got some more practicing to do, don’t I?”

Payne gave him a rather pointed glare before glancing at the training items behind him. “Yes, I imagine you do,” he said and turned and left.

Somehow, despite Payne being the one to leave for the second time in a row, Charles couldn’t help but feel like he had lost.

XXX

The cafeteria was full tonight. He should have guessed that it would be on a night that they were serving both pizza and mac and cheese. He was fairly certain that was the only thing that had pried Niko out of her room and away from whatever manga she’d been reading when he’d texted.

Brad and Hunter waved from across the dining hall. He nodded, to let them know that he’d seen them, but hoped that Niko would be a sufficient enough deterrent.

“So everything went well?” Niko asked. “Locking up and training?”

His mind suddenly went to long limbs and shredded ice. Cold green eyes and spat out words. “Yeah, it went pretty well,” he said. “The rink is an absolute dream. Did you know that there is a gym there, too? It’s got just about everything that the one on campus has. Crystal’s really got it all.”

Her smile grew. “Oh does she?” she asked, nudging him lightly in his side. He almost dropped his plate and only just barely caught it before it slipped through his fingers.

“Yeah, her rink does,” he said, his voice childishly high. “And that’s it.”

“Good,” she said with a curt nod. “Responsible.”

Charles grinned at her and leaned his face close to hers. “I’m always responsible, Niko.”

She rolled her eyes, but her smile stayed in place. “That’s good, I’m glad to hear it all went so well.”

The image of Payne crashing against the ice flashed across his vision, as well as his conversation with him earlier that day. He still felt like Crystal hadn’t quite understood the severity of what he meant when he said that Payne had been hurt, but it wasn’t really his business he supposed. He would simply cut Payne off earlier from now on. He at least had Crystal’s blessing to do that much.

“What’s that face for?” she asked.

Charles frowned. “What face?”

She pointed at his face, her fingernail polish coated nail so close to his nose it almost disappeared. “That face. That face right there!”

“What face!?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “That face. That face that says everything didn’t go well.”

Niko really had always been able to read him like a book. It was funny, she missed a lot of social cues from other people, but with Charles it was like she was jacked straight into his brain. One single look and she’d been able to tell that something had been weird about that lock up.

“There was just this guy,” Charles said, shaking his head. It really wasn’t worth talking about. Even if his green eyes and determined expression were all Charles had been thinking about since then.

“A guy, hm?” Niko asked. It was her turn to lean in now, a smile slowly spreading across her face. “What’s his name?”

Charles shrugged. He followed her to the next station, as if either one of them were going to eat anything else other than pizza or mac and cheese. “Dunno. S’just some guy who was skating late, and he hurt himself on the ice. Didn’t think he’d even be able to get up without help. Payne or something was his name, I think.”

“Oh!” Niko said, her expression brightened. “You mean Edwin?”

Charles blinked. “Who?”

“Edwin? Crystal’s best friend?” she asked. “His last name is Payne.”

Crystal’s best friend’s last name was Payne. The Payne from the rink did seem to be about the same age as all of them. And Crystal hadn’t really seemed as concerned about him getting hurt as he felt like she should have been if he were a stranger using her rink. In fact, it almost seemed like she was aware of such a thing.

“Really would have appreciated the heads up, Niko” Charles said, running his hand down his face. “I almost lost it on the guy.”

Niko smiled. “I doubt that,” she said. It always seemed like she had more faith in Charles than he ever did. Even at his most violent and angry, Niko always seemed to look past that and see the him that was underneath.

“I coulda,” he said like a child. “He was just so… rude. Didn’t even say thank you after everything.”

She smiled as she stacked a slice of pizza on top of her mac and cheese. He knew from experience that both of them tasted like cardboard and plastic, and yet it was a sort of charming cardboard and plastic. He would complain about it all year while they were here and then miss it the second he got home.

But maybe that was because he hated his dad’s attempts at cooking. His mum’s were good, but his dad always found something to complain about. Dinner time was often a silent experience in their home, lest they set his dad off.

“Would knowing he wasn’t going to thank you have stopped you from helping?” she asked.

“Well, no,” he said. “But I would have at least not shot my mouth off at Crystal about him.” That was rule number one of best friends. You didn’t shit talk someone’s best friend to their face.

Niko’s smile didn’t even falter. “I’m sure it’s fine. She didn’t, like, kick you out or anything did she?”

Charles rolled his eyes. “No, ‘course not. But still. I woulda, I dunno, talked to him differently or something.” He probably wouldn’t have, but he at least liked to pretend. Serves the rich prick right to get himself all worked up over Charles being ‘worried.’

“Eh, he seems nice,” Niko said.

Charles stopped walking. “Seems nice? When did you talk to him?”

Niko turned around. “Yesterday? We got coffee together.”

“What!?” Charles asked, loud enough that he startled one of the food servers nearby. He gave her a sheepish grin and gestured for Niko to go to the nearest open table.

“Yeah, him and his friend Simon,” she said. Her face fell a little bit as she thought about it. “Although Simon wasn’t very nice.”

“What!?” he asked again. His plate nearly slammed into the table with the speed at which he tossed it down and threw himself into his seat. “Alright, when were you gonna tell me you were having coffee with the antichrist?”

“Edwin’s nice,” Niko said.

“No, not him. Simon,” Charles said, shuddering. “Was he rude to you? Because I’ll give him a smack upside the head, just you say.”

She gave him a rather soft, fond smile. “That’s nice, Charles, but I don’t need it. And it wasn’t a plan, I just ran into them at the coffee shop. I figured that was as good of a time as any to ask Edwin about talking to Becky about figure skating, but that Simon guy seemed to be in a hurry.”

“Well, as long as he wasn’t rude to you,” he said. Which seemed impossible, but maybe he’d at least been better behaved for Niko. She did have that effect on people.

Niko frowned. “No, not really. If anything I think he was more rude to Edwin.”

That tracked. He doubted there was any real loyalty between guys like that.

“This campus is too small,” Charles complained. “That’s multiple times we’ve run into both of them, and I’m getting sick of it.”

He’d gone years without running into either one of them and all of sudden it seemed like he couldn’t breathe without one of them complaining he was in their space. One would think on a campus this size it would be easier to avoid running into other students, but apparently not.

Fate was a fickle bitch like that.

“I think you’re going to have to get used to that,” Niko said, scooping up a rather large portion of noodles. “Edwin and Crystal are BFFs. He’s gonna be around a lot.”

“Well, we can’t all pick winners for best friends, can we?” he asked, kicking her gently under the table.

Niko smiled before taking a huge bite of mac and cheese.

At least he could keep this. Both of his rinks might be tainted by utter assholes, but at least here he could eat with his best friend while she talked on and on about the manga she’d been reading.

He wasn’t going to let a couple of rich idiots ruin his junior year. No matter how beautiful one of them looked gliding across the ice. Those were thoughts he best kept locked up and thrown away, anyways. Romance and social lives were for people who didn’t have to keep up their scholarship or pass their classes.

The pizza and mac and cheese were just as fake a delicious as he’d imagined they would be.

Chapter 6: 'Cause You Don't Fucking Listen When I'm Around

Notes:

"Did I truly do the things that you've described?
They must hate me, every single one
[...]
'cause you don't fucking listen when I'm around
the least you could do is take it back
all the vicious remarks and verbal attacks
'cause I can't fucking stand it when you're around,"
When You're Around by Motion City Soundtrack

It takes a while, but school eventually settles into a rhythm like a well-worn pair of shoes. Charles wakes up, trains with the team, goes to class, hangs with Niko, and practices at Crystal’s rink. Sometimes he doesn’t practice, but on those nights, he still stays late enough to see Edwin out the door at a reasonable time. Or, what Edwin believes passes for a reasonable time.

They don’t usually speak during these run-ins. Occasionally one of them will mention something like your equipment was in the way, I moved it, or couldn’t find the remote mate, so you’re going to have to use earbuds tonight but that’s almost the extent of their conversations.

At first Charles thought it was him. He and Edwin hadn’t exactly started off on the best of terms, so he was sure that that must be why Edwin looked like he constantly was sucking a lemon any time he talked to Charles, but a quick observation said that just sort seemed to be how Edwin operated.

He didn’t talk to many people at the rink. Crystal, of course, was an exception, although Charles was rarely around both of them enough to truly see them interact. And Jenny seemed more than willing to hand off coffees and all sorts of food any time he strolled through, but that was really it. He never saw him speak to any of the parents or other people like Niko who were training the children, he never saw him on the phone with anyone, Hell, he hadn’t even seen him on campus yet.

Then again, he was a year below than him and in a different major. That might explain some of it. But still, it struck Charles as odd.

“He’s just shy,” Niko had told him one day.

But Edwin didn’t seem shy. Charles could vividly remember him telling him off. There had been nothing shy about him then, or really any time since. And someone shy didn’t skate like Edwin skated.

It felt sleazy watching Edwin skate. It’s not like he tried to do it, in fact he tried to stay in the office as much as he could when Edwin was using the ice. But there was something impossible to ignore about Edwin when he skated. The way he moved, his legs and arms flowing like water until they would snap the other direction with a quick spin or jump. It demanded attention, and it seemed like a shame there was no audience there to see it.

Crystal let it slip one day that Edwin had been skating since they were toddlers. It wasn’t a secret, Charles supposed, but it still felt like something she hadn’t meant to tell him.

“Makes sense with how good he is,” Charles had said. Although he thought it was ridiculous. Who let a baby start figure skating?

Crystal’s eyebrows had flown into her hairline, as if she were surprised he had complimented Edwin.

Which he supposed was fair. Everyone, and Charles was certain it really was everyone, associated with the rink knew that they were in some sort of war against each other. Niko found it endlessly entertaining, and Jenny seemed perpetually annoyed by it. The jury was still out on Crystal’s opinion of it all, but he liked to think she fell somewhere in between the two.

Still, it was a routine. And one Charles had grown to rather enjoy over time.

Which is why when Brad and Hunter tried to disrupt it, he was at a loss.

“So, you’ve got this whole place to yourself? And you won’t share?” Brad asked.

Charles shrugged, shooting the puck towards the goal. It was off, but not nearly as much as it had been almost a month ago. Already he could tell he was getting better, the turnaround time on redeeming his skills shortened by all the practice he was putting in at Crystal’s place.

Sometimes he’d practice late just to spite Edwin. After all, the figure skater couldn’t use the ice if Charles was.

Well, he probably could have, if he weren’t determined to use every inch of the ice. That was probably the figure skater mentality, use the whole rink to really show off your skills. And eat up the ice in the process.

But God, did Edwin have skills.

“S’not really my place to share,” Charles said. Another shot and it bounced off of their goalie Oliver’s glove. At least it had made it to the goalie.

“It kinda is,” Hunter said, smacking the puck through the air. It sailed straight in, past their goalie and hit the net dead center. “You’ve got keys, right? That’s like free reign.”

Charles was almost certain that was not what Crystal had intended when giving him the keys to the rink.

“Nah,” he said, trying to play it off. “There’s like cameras and shit, I’m sure. Don’t wanna get fired this early on, do I?”

Neither one of them really had a response for that. They’d been lucky enough to have scholarships and families who could at least help with some of their education. But both of them did know how important maintaining a ‘job’ was for Charles, especially one that gave him free rink and gym access and could count towards any of the volunteer hours he needed.

“Tell us you're at least coming out with us tonight,” Brad said. He passed the puck over to Charles, setting him up perfectly to take another shot.

“You gotta, dude. First legal trip to Max’s this semester,” Hunter said. “Just think of how shocked Jared’s gonna be when you hand him your real ID and it says you’re twenty-one now.”

Charles smiled. They’d been going to Max’s since midway through their first year at college together, when all of them had been well underaged in the US. Thankfully, some of the guys on the team had managed to sneak them a few fake IDs, even managing to make Charles a fake British one.

It was obviously fake. Anyone who’d actually held a real British ID would have noticed that right away, but he doubted the bouncer, Jared, ever had. Or that he even cared enough to bounce him if he did.

As long as the patrons had IDs, there was little they couldn’t do there.

“He doesn’t even look at them,” Charles said. “My first ID misspelled ‘Kingdom’ as King-space-dom.”

“Still, we gotta celebrate somehow,” Hunter said. “It’s not like we had a lot of time last semester.”

Charles nodded. His birthday falling in May meant that they were usually struggling through finals and different conference games and packing up to go home at the end of the semester. There really hadn’t been enough time to celebrate his new ‘drinking age’ status in the States before he’d had to go home.

“Shot, shot, shot, shot,” Brad sang, dancing with his hockey stick. “Everybody!”

“I know you are not talking about drinking when you should be practicing!” Coach Nurse said. It was as if she had been summoned, suddenly appearing beside them the moment they had any fun.

“What!” Brad said, glancing at the two of them. “We were just talking about how everybody needed to work on their shooting. Weren’t we?” He begged Charles and Hunter for help with his eyes, pleading them to come to his defense.

“Yeah, of course,” Charles said, with Hunter muttering something similar. “Taking training very seriously.”

Her dark eyes tracked over them, and Charles got the distinct impression that she was staring down into his soul.

“That’s good. Then it should be no trouble for you to get ten more goals before the next whistle, hm?” Before any of them could answer she blew her whistle and gestured for all of them to line up for a shootout.

At least they weren’t Oliver.

XXX

Charles sighed as he walked out of the locker room. Every part of him was sore. Sure, they should have taken practice a bit more seriously, but Coach Nurse could also learn to take a joke.

He kept his head down, his attention turned towards his phone. He was supposed to lock up the rink tonight after Edwin was done, which left very little time to actually make it to the bar. Maybe he could tell Edwin to wrap it up early tonight. It could only help him, really. It’s not like he needed to be there skating until midnight anyways.

Then again, he could also just skip out on the bar and study in the office. A test was coming up this week and he was almost positive he wasn’t ready for it. A few hours hidden away in the office while Edwin skated really did sound like the best idea right now.

As if he were summoned by his thoughts, Edwin appeared before him. Charles nearly ran into him before realizing he hadn’t just imagined him.

“Oh,” he said, shoving his phone into his pocket. “Hey.”

Edwin seemed equally as surprised as him. “Hello, Rowland,” he said.

“Charles,” Charles corrected. Rowland was what people associated with hockey called him, not Edwin.

Edwin frowned slightly, a hardly noticeable difference than his usual expression at Charles. “Right.”

Charles let his eyes skim over Edwin, taking in the form fitting clothes and slides he was wearing. It was a familiar look; one he often saw before or after Edwin’s practices. “Wait,” Charles asked. “Are you practicing here?”

The frown became more prominent. “Yes?” Edwin answered, almost a question. “I am a student here.”

Sure, but I’ve never seen you, Charles wanted to say, but that would be admitting that Charles had been looking for him.

“No, I know that. Just didn’t think you’d come down and skate with the low lives like us,” Charles said. He’d tried to keep a joking tone, but he could tell from Edwin’s expression that he failed.

“First of all, what is that supposed to mean?” Edwin asked. “And second of all, I am not skating with you, now am I?”

No, but Charles could almost imagine it. He’d actually looked up a couple of videos of figure skaters after watching Edwin a few times, just to see what all the fuss was about, and realized that he’d never actually considered it being something Edwin could do with someone.

He was fairly certain he’d never nail down the graceful movements everyone else did in those videos, but he was pretty sure he could, like, pick a skater up or something. If he could tackle grown men to the ice, it only stood to reason that he could lift one.

Not that he’d thought about that a lot.

Besides, it’s not like Edwin skated with a partner. Or if he did, they were suspiciously absent from all of his practices.

“Probably a good thing,” Charles said. “You’d get crushed by Brad and Hunter.”

It was supposed to be a joke, a little dig at the fact that Brad and Hunter were the guys most likely to body check not only their opponents but each other if they got too hot headed, but it was clear from Edwin’s face that it wasn’t received that way.

“Hockey players really do only have one way of dealing with a problem, do they not?” Edwin asked, turning away from Charles.

He moved swiftly and sat on the bench near the ice where his bag was. Charles watched as he took his skates out and went through his usual routine of getting ready for the ice.

“What does that mean?” Charles asked.

Edwin didn’t answer.

“No, seriously,” he said, stepping closer. “What does that mean?”

Edwin barely glanced at him.

“Is there a problem here?” a man asked, walking up. His dirty blonde hair was brushed back and the whistle around his neck glinted in the arena light. The man didn’t appear to be much older than them, but he did hold himself like he was someone important, someone who was supposed to be listened to.

His eyes trailed from Charles to Edwin, taking them in.

Charles realized how they must have looked. Big, bad hockey player yelling at the figure skater. Never mind that Edwin was always able to give as good as he got, every single time they ran into each other. It was about perceptions, wasn’t it? And right now, Charles was being perceived as a problem.

“Just talking to Edwin,” Charles said lamely.

The man’s eyes moved over to Edwin, who was now steadily ignoring both of them. Charles knew it didn’t take that much focus to lace up his skates.

“Is that true?”

Edwin rolled his eyes. “Yes, Coach King. Rowland here was simply reminding me of the absolute joys of skating on campus.”

“Oh, well don’t let me stop you then,” Coach King said, gesturing for Charles to continue.

It felt like a trap. Charles wasn’t sure how this interaction had gone so far off course, but now he felt like he couldn’t do anything about it.

Sighing, he turned back to Edwin. “Can you at least cut your practice short tonight? I wanna go out.”

Edwin didn’t verbally answer, merely nodded. Which Charles took as confirmation enough.

As he turned to leave, he heard Coach King start up. “Oh, so you’re still practicing at Crystal’s huh?”

He couldn’t help but be a little happy as he heard Coach King rant about expected training and practice times. It seemed like the proper sort of payback.

Edwin didn’t show up to practice at all that night, didn’t even send a text to say he wouldn’t be there. Charles couldn’t help but feel guilty as he cancelled his trip to the bar anyways.

XXX

Charles actually didn’t see Edwin for a week after that. He’d tried asking about it without directly asking about it, but neither Crystal nor Jenny seemed to pick up on that fact. Or if they did, they chose to keep it to themselves, which he could sort of respect.

It wasn’t until he showed up to meet Niko for one of her skating classes that he finally saw him again.

It almost seemed strange to see him in anything other than the long-sleeved sports shirts he favored, but the loose brown slacks and green and white striped t-shirt was certainly a look. He hadn’t even realized Edwin had had arms until now.

Edwin looked up from where he’d been sitting on the bench, watching Niko and the littles practice. He seemed surprised to see Charles, but he didn’t say a word to him as he sat down next to him.

It was impossible not to look at his arms now.

“You alright?” he asked.

Edwin turned to him, confusion evident on his face. “Me?” he asked.

Charles nodded. “Haven’t seen you all week, is all.”

Edwin seemed surprised. “Yes, well. Coach King is very serious about his training,” he said, as if that answered everything.

“Right, yeah,” Charles said, nodding his head. The memory of his coach starting some sort of tirade did sound familiar. The question was did Edwin train like he did because his coach expected him to, or despite it?

He knew that he’d never get an answer, so he didn’t even bother to ask.

He looked up and watched as Niko clapped her hands, applauding two kids who looked nearly identical as they raced along the ice. Well, race was being generous, as they weren’t exactly moving the fastest, but he could tell they were trying and that was the most important thing.

He couldn’t help but sneak a few glances over at Edwin. He sat up straight, his hands fiddling absentmindedly with his phone as he watched the lessons in front of him. One of his legs bounced up and down, a nervous tick if ever Charles saw one. It was so subtle though, nothing like when Charles got antsy and nearly shook his seat apart. This one was more controlled, as if he didn’t wish to call attention to it.

“You waiting to use the ice?” Charles asked. Edwin didn’t usually show up until later in the evening most of the time, and by then the ice resurfacer had been over it a couple of times. It was usually hell to skate after the kids had gone, because they were still learning how not to dig their blades into the ice.

But Charles didn’t even know if Mick was here today to do that, as he hadn’t noticed his name on the schedule. Charles wasn’t even supposed to be there today. He’d only shown up because Niko had asked him to.

“No,” Edwin said.

Well, that did explain the clothes. Those weren’t his usual practice wear. Charles glanced around, looking for Crystal or anyone else who might be expecting him.

As if Edwin had read his mind, he spoke. “Niko asked me to come.”

Charles blinked. Niko? His Niko had asked Edwin Payne to come to the rink? “Why?” he asked.

Edwin rolled his eyes. “I can only assume because she wants me to speak to one of the skaters here.”

Niko had mentioned that she wanted Edwin to talk to one of them. Becky, he was fairly certain it was. That was also why she’d asked Charles to be there today as well. He just hadn’t expected Edwin to agree.

“And you’re gonna do it?” he asked. Was it really such a good idea to have him speak to a kid? Edwin didn’t seem to have the… kindest approach to these types of things.

Edwin side eyed him. “It would be pointless for me to come all the way down here and not.”

That was true, but Charles was still surprised. He didn’t know much about Edwin, but it didn’t really sound like it was in his nature to do so.

“Fair enough,” he muttered. He turned and dug his skates out of his bag, and Edwin sighed and did the same. Charles was surprised he hadn’t already been wearing them, as Edwin seemed to practically live in skates.

It wasn’t long before Niko turned and waved them over. Her all blue outfit stood out against the ice and the kids gathered around her, and Charles couldn’t help but think of Bubbles from the Powerpuff Girls when he saw her clapping happily at their arrival.

“Okay, everyone! We’re going to play a game while Becky and Emma talk to Charles and Edwin, does that sound good?” Niko asked, which sent the kids into cheers. “Great! Let me get them set up, and I’ll be right back.”

She pulled two girls out of the group, the couple Charles was fairly certain he’d seen hanging out together the other day, and brought them over to them. There was a sort of charged energy running through them, constantly oscillating between excitement and nervousness.

Or at least Becky seemed nervous. Emma skated over; her nose tilted up into the air as if she were doing them a favor by talking to them.

Oh, boy.

“Becky, this is Edwin, Edwin this is Becky,” she said, and Charles was sure the girl was going to pass out.

“Hello,” Edwin said, his voice surprisingly light. He held a hand out to her, which she took with a shaking hand. Charles almost didn’t hear her return the hello with a small “hi.”

The smile on Niko’s face grew impossibly wider at their interaction. “And Charles, this is Emma. Emma, Charles!”

Emma didn’t even give Charles a chance to respond. “Is it true you get to tackle people?” she asked.

“Well–”

“That is so cool. Have you ever hit anyone with your stick?” she barreled on.

“Not on purpose,” Charles lied.

She crossed her arms. “Lame. If I was a hockey player, I would hit people with sticks.”

“You’d get in trouble,” Becky said, rolling her eyes.

A feisty grin shot across Emma’s face. “And then it would be a real fight.”

Niko’s eyes widened. “Okay! Well, I’m sure this isn’t going to go terribly at all,” she said with a nervous laugh, her eyes pointedly looking at Charles. Over the girls’ heads she mouthed ‘behave’ before turning back to the rest of the class.

Who had apparently decided to try and push each other on the ice.

“Let’s not do that!” Niko said, rushing back over.

“Come on,” Emma said, tugging at Charles’s arm. “Let’s move over here. I don’t want to hear about stupid figure skating.”

Becky frowned. “It’s not stupid! Hitting people with sticks is stupid.”

“Oi, settle down, both of you,” Charles said, already sensing a fight brewing. “Figure skating isn’t stupid,” he said pointedly at Emma. “And we don’t hit people with sticks in hockey.”

Edwin stood by, his arms behind his back. He seemed to actually be amused by all of this, somehow. “Sometimes you hit people with sticks,” Edwin said. “Or at least Crystal did.”

Charles turned to stare at him in disbelief. He tried to mouth a ‘not helping’ at him, but Edwin only smiled and turned to lead Becky away.

“I knew it!” Emma said, bouncing on her toes and nearly face planting.

Charles reached out and caught her before she could actually fall. He looked down, eyeing her skates. “Those are figure skates, y’know,” he said. “S’hard to even learn to skate in those things.”

Emma eyed the skates as if they had personally offended her. “Yeah, I know. But my stupid mom wanted me to get them. She thought they were ‘so cute’.” She rolled her eyes, and Charles could tell that she was just barely holding back from stomping her feet.

A good thing too, or else she’d probably face plant again.

“That little toe pick will catch you up every time,” he said, tapping it gently with his own skate. “But you’ll be a natural by the time you have your own hockey skates.”

Emma glared at the toe pick as if it had personally insulted her. She dug out a little bit of the ice with it, drilling a small hole until Charles nudged her foot again.

“I just wish I had hockey skates like Becky,” she said.

Charles glanced over to where Edwin and Becky had gone. His smile had only grown since they’d separated, and Becky must have overcome some of her shyness to actually speak because she seemed to be going a mile a minute.

Charles had the feeling Becky would have traded her skates away in a second for Emma’s.

“Don’t worry about that now,” Charles said. He leaned down close, like he was telling her a secret. “You wanna know what the most important thing about learning to play hockey is?”

Emma leaned in close too, her eyes wide. “What?” she whispered.

Charles tucked one leg up, almost like a flamingo. He couldn’t help the laugh that burst out at Emma’s look of confusion.

“Learning to skate on a single leg,” he explained, putting his leg back down. “When you skate, you tend to only have one leg down at a time, yeah?” He skated around her, demonstrating how most of the time, he only ever had one foot touching the ice while moving.

Emma watched, absorbing everything like a sponge. “Miss Niko mentioned that,” she said. And Charles’s heart nearly exploded at her calling Niko ‘Miss Niko.’

“She’d be right,” he said, skating around her again. “This is one of the first lessons they have you learn in hockey, because no matter what you do, you’re gonna need to do it fast, yeah?” He demonstrated a crossover, turning around and leaving one foot on the ice at a time. “The better you are at this, the better you’ll handle your stick, too.”

Emma tried to copy him and his turns. It wasn’t very smooth, but he could see that she had been paying attention to Niko’s classes. And it probably would have been even easier if she hadn’t had the wrong skates on to do it.

She bent her leg, skating on the inside edge just a bit too much. “Stand up a bit straighter,” he said, gesturing to her leg. “Your knees should be over your toes. It’ll make it easier to balance.”

This was something Charles was sure Niko had also told her before, but at least this time she listened to him. They continued on for a few minutes, Emma and Charles skating in circles around each other.

He couldn’t help but look over at Edwin and Becky, unable to resist checking on them. It’s not like he fully expected Edwin to be a dick to the kid, but still, he couldn’t help but feel the urge to double check.

It would seem there was no need for such a thing. Edwin was smiling, the first real, full smile Charles had ever seen from him. It was so surprising he didn’t even notice Emma skating closer to him at full speed.

“Oof,” he said, catching Emma as they landed in a heap on the ground.

“That was a body check,” she informed him, rather matter-of-factly.

“It was,” he gasped, the air still knocked from his lungs.

She climbed off him, unexpected hands reaching out to pull her upright and clear of Charles. And in her place was Edwin’s face, looking down at him with more concern than Charles thought possible.

Becky stood off to the side arguing with Emma, but Charles hardly heard them. All of his attention seemed to be going towards regaining his breath and not staring at Edwin like some sort of dead fish.

“Are you alright?” Edwin asked. His hands were clasped behind his back, but his eyes roamed over Charles’s body, searching for any sign of injury.

Charles tried not to turn red at his inspection.

“Fine, yeah,” he said. He closed his eyes for a moment, embarrassed that Emma had gotten the best of him while he was looking at Edwin. It felt like getting caught, and he hadn’t even done anything.

A hand suddenly came into his view, and he jumped, startled by Edwin’s closeness. He hadn’t even noticed him moving to offer a hand, much less directly in his face.

“Are you sure you are alright?” Edwin asked, and for once his brows seemed furrowed not in annoyance but concern. “Do we need to phone an ambulance?”

First of all, Charles had taken far harder and meaner hits from people well over twice Emma’s size. There was no need to panic so much. And secondly, even if he did need one, there was no way in hell he was going to let anyone call. He knew the price of those things.

“Nah, I’m good, mate. Just knocked the wind outta me is all.” He reached up and grabbed Edwin’s hand, trying to ignore how warm it felt after so long on the ice.

Once Charles was back on his feet, Becky practically pushed Emma forward. Emma glanced back at her friend, only to have her point at Charles with expectant eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Emma said. “I shouldn’t have tackled you.”

Edwin crossed his arms as he looked down at Emma. “I know you are very excited to play hockey,” Edwin said. “But that was incredibly dangerous.”

All three of them seemed surprised that Edwin was getting on to her.

“I’m sorry,” Emma said, this time with more feeling.

“I know,” Edwin said softly. “But without the proper protection both of you could have been extremely hurt.”

The ice suddenly seemed to be very interesting to Emma. “Come on,” Charles said lightly. “She didn’t mean it.”

Edwin looked at him pointedly. “I know, I already acknowledged that,” he said. The urge to have Emma tackle Edwin flitted through his mind, but instead he rolled his eyes.

“But also,” Edwin continued. “I must commend you for your maneuver. You were able to knock down an actual hockey player on your first attempt. Very impressive. Don’t do it again.”

Joy exploded across Emma’s face. “It was pretty cool, huh?” she asked, running up to Edwin.

As if a spell had been broken, both of the girls flocked to Edwin, their mouths moving at a mile a minute. Charles wasn’t even sure they were saying real words anymore, just the sheer overwhelming sounds of kids blabbing on and on drowning everything else out.

It was almost funny seeing Edwin so out of his depth. It seemed he could deal with one quiet kid or reprimanding a rowdy one, but dealing with two best friends who seemed determined to talk over each other? He was at a loss.

Yet, he was doing well enough. He turned his attention from one to the other, answering their questions as he understood them. Yes, I am a figure skater. No, I have not and will never play hockey. Yes, I am in college. No, I do not teach a skating class. No, I do not want you to show me your jumps, please do not do that. Yes, Charles and I attend the same college.

On and on they went until Niko called an end to the class with the parents' arrivals.

Emma smiled and quickly squeezed her arms around Charles, almost knocking the air smooth out of him again. She was strong, he could tell that she’d be a phenomenal hockey player one day if she kept at it.

Becky was shyer, Charles noted, waving goodbye to Edwin from a distance. There was a small smile on his face as he nodded at her, one of his hands coming up for a little wave as she grinned and ran off.

It had never occurred to him that Edwin might actually be good with kids. Or that that was such an admirable quality.

He watched as the two girls, the last ones on the ice, raced over to their parents. Both Becky and Emma’s parents were so pleased to see their girl’s so happy. Emma practically threw herself into her dad’s arms, trusting that he wouldn’t let her hit the ground.

Charles’s stomach twisted as he watched them. He tried not to look into why he felt so anxious, so angry.

“They are strong skaters,” Edwin said from behind him. He hadn’t even realized he’d moved so close. “I think they have a bright future ahead of them if they choose to continue.”

Charles looked at Edwin, and not for the first time wondered how he started figure skating. Crystal’s parents owned a rink, but which had come first? Their friendship or skating? And more importantly, if they had owned this rink for years, why was this the first time he’d ever run into either one of them?

“Edwin!” Niko said, skating over to him. “Thank you so, so, so much for coming!” She threw her arms around him in a sideways hug, and to Charles’s surprise Edwin accepted it. There wasn’t even the flash of annoyance or pain that he had come to expect from him as he smiled back at Niko.

“Becky is a wonderful skater, even if she is only just starting out,” Edwin said. “It was my pleasure to speak to her.”

Niko smiled at him; her glee barely contained.

“And what about me?” Charles asked, holding his arms out. “What am I? Chopped liver?”

To Charles’s surprise it was Edwin who spoke next. “I think we all know how you speaking to Emma went. Did you not see her tackle her father?”

Charles stared at him in shock for a moment before a smile grew on his face. “Oh, you’ve got jokes, huh?” he asked.

Before they could get going Crystal called them over. It was probably for the best, he didn’t want to ruin the good vibes he and Edwin had going between them. The last thing he needed to do was stick his foot in his mouth and start a fight with him.

But God, was it easy to do so.

“That looks like it went well,” Crystal said, smiling.

“It went brills,” Charles said. “Think Eds and I are about ready for a class of our own.”

Edwin frowned almost comically at Charles’s nickname for him, which only made Charles smile harder. So he couldn’t resist pushing his buttons a little. Was it a crime to be annoying?

“Oh, no, I don’t think so,” Niko interrupted. “I saw what Emma did. If we left you two in charge, you’d probably have them jumping or tackling people by the end of the session.”

“There are worse things, I’m sure,” Edwin said.

Niko turned with pleading eyes to Crystal. “Crystal don’t let them teach a class. Please, I’m begging.”

Crystal smiled. “Don’t worry, Niko, I don’t think they’re quite there yet,” she said.

Charles unthinkingly threw an arm around Edwin’s shoulders. He ignored the way Edwin stiffened up, freezing at Charles’s sudden contact. “Oi, we would be fantastic teachers. You’re just scared of our power.”

Niko and Crystal stared at him for a moment, and he could feel how their eyes hung on his arm around Edwin. It was no different than how he would normally act towards any of his mates, and yet he could tell from the look on their faces that it somehow was different.

Maybe because he and Edwin weren’t currently trying to kill each other. This would certainly be the longest they’d gone without snapping at one another.

“Well,” Crystal said, clapping her hands together. “Since everyone is in such a good mood, now seems like the perfect time to tell you!” She turned to Niko, who gave her a thumbs up, and smiled. “We’re actually going out for dinner tonight.”

No one said anything.

“I hardly see how you and Niko needed to announce such a thing,” Edwin said, which earned him a swat from Crystal.

“No, stupid. All of us,” she said.

Charles glanced at Edwin, slowly sliding his arm off him. “Uh, since when?” he asked.

“Since yesterday,” Niko said, twirling from side to side. “We thought it would be a good way to settle whatever issues you two have going on. In a safe, well attended environment.” She gave a content smile, like she hadn’t just implied that she and Crystal were playing marriage counselors.

“There’s no issues,” Charles said. Because there really wasn’t. He and Edwin had worked things out, in their own way. Without even really talking they had worked out a schedule that both of them agreed with, and Edwin had even started going home when Charles told him, no questions asked.

Granted, he hadn’t seen him for a week before this point, but Charles still counted that as a win.

“Right, like we’re gonna believe that,” Crystal said. “Besides, is it wrong for us to want to hang out with our best friends? Together?”

She turned her attention to Edwin, turning on what Charles could only call puppy dog eyes. Edwin did not seem phased in the slightest.

“I have plans,” Edwin said, which seemed to surprise both Charles and Crystal.

“With who?” she asked. Before he could answer, Crystal barged on. “Thomas says you don’t have practice tonight.”

Edwin’s face twisted in anger, so briefly Charles almost thought he imagined it. He didn’t imagine the fists balled at his side, however. “When did you speak to him?” he asked.

Niko glanced at Charles, a nervous, flitty thing.

“Yesterday, when we came up with the plans. He said to have fun,” she said, as if she had just declared checkmate in some invisible game.

“He’s hardly my keeper,” Edwin said. “I do not know why you even asked him.”

So, this Thomas person wasn’t Edwin’s keeper, yet he also seemed to know all of Edwin’s schedule. Charles noted this fact for later.

“Well, I did, and he said you’re free from practice so we’re going out,” Crystal said and stepped closer to him. She took his hands in hers and gave him a slight shimmy, as if she were trying to get him to dance. “Come on, Edwin. It’ll be fun! Niko’s planned for us to go to an arcade.”

“That’s not dinner,” Edwin pointed out.

“They have food at the arcade,” Crystal said.

Edwin looked at Niko over the top of Crystal’s head and Charles knew he was sold. No one could ever say no to Niko, not even Edwin it seemed. “Fine,” he said. Less than a second later Niko had thrown her arms around him for the second time that day.

“This is going to be so fun!” she said.

Somehow Charles doubted that. And from the look on Edwin's face he did, too.

Notes:

oops, this chapter actually had to be cut in half because it was growing too long so that's fun lol! I hope you enjoyed it <3

ps don't tackle people on the ice. don't feel like I should have to tell you this, but there we go lol

Chapter 7: You Pulled A Fast One On Me, You Casted A Spell On Me

Notes:

"I feel intoxicated
by the way we play
This stupid kids game
A stupid kids game
spending all of your money, honey
listening for the sound of your animal heart
hoping for some sweet enchantment
got me sick with your
honey magic!"
- Honey Magic by Saint Blonde

Charles didn’t think he would describe the experience as ‘so fun’ like Niko had said, but he did have to admit that watching standoffish Edwin stand in a room full of ringing bells and flashing lights was at least entertaining.

It seemed to have the opposite effect that being around the kids had. Rather than softening and lightening up a bit, he almost seemed to close in on himself. He made a show of it to smile at Niko and tell her that he was having fun when she asked, but he made no move to play any of the games himself.

About an hour in, Charles was convinced that he had skipped out. He’d lost track of him after Crystal and Niko had settled in to play some sort of fighting game against each other and hadn’t seen him since.

“Anyone see Edwin?” he asked, looking around.

Crystal shrugged. “Probably at a table,” she said. “He never really got the whole point of video games.” She slammed her full hand down on the buttons, as if that was going to help, and Charles resisted the urge to point out that he didn’t think Crystal understood the point of the game either.

Niko frowned. “Should I have picked somewhere else?” she asked, lightly tapping the button. At least she seemed to be actually hitting Crystal’s character when she tried.

“Nah,” Crystal said and shot her a quick smile. “He would have hated the other option more.”

Charles shuddered to think what the other option was.

“I’m just gonna go see if I can find him,” he said, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder. “You guys keep playing.”

As if they would have done any differently. It was like the two of them hadn’t even noticed he’d walked away. He tried not to be offended by that fact, because it wasn’t like they’d noticed Edwin was gone, either.

The arcade was surprisingly large, Charles noted. One side was dedicated almost entirely to what one would think of when they said arcade games: cabinets, skee ball, Dance Dance Revolution, and about a million more. The other was dedicated to fast food meals: burgers, chips, beers, sodas, all things that were easy to shove down and get back to playing, with a row of booths and tables crammed along the side of the wall.

He stood on his tiptoes, trying to catch sight of Edwin. If he wasn’t in one of the booths, then he must have dipped out on them. Yet another thing he could add to his mental list against him.

But he hadn’t. He could just barely see the top of Edwin’s head in one of the far booths, as far away from the games as he could possibly be. Sighing, he steeled himself to go and see what was up. They’d been rather friendly on the walk over, and Edwin had even stood nearby while he’d played a few games, but that didn’t mean they were friends. And that especially didn’t mean that Edwin wanted someone to bother him when he had very clearly chosen to sneak off alone.

Not that any of that was going to stop Charles.

Charles leaned against the table, watching as Edwin tapped away on his phone. “Don’t you wanna play a game?” he asked.

Edwin jumped, as if he hadn’t heard Charles approach. Then again, with all of the bells and whistles going on it was possible he hadn’t.

“Play what?” he asked.

Charles shrugged. “Dunno. They’ve got a basketball game over in the corner. With long arms like yours I bet you’d be aces at it.”

Edwin squinted at him, not quite a glare but definitely close enough to one. If it wasn’t for the fact that Charles had seen what Edwin’s real glares looked like he would assume it was one. “Long arms?” he asked.

Charles shrugged, trying to play it off. “Just… they seem kind of long?”

Edwin looked down at his arms, his phone fully forgotten. “I am uncertain how to take that.”

“Take it however you want, mate, but let’s play a game,” he said, urging him up from his seat. Part of Charles wasn’t even sure why he was doing it. If Edwin was happy just sitting at a table by himself while the girls and he had fun, why should he stop him?

But Charles hadn’t liked the look on his face as he tapped at his phone alone in the corner. It seemed wrong to leave him on his own when the whole point of this night had been for the four of them to hang out and get to know each other better.

Plus, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t interested in seeing Edwin play some of these games. His arms, his legs, any part of him was good, really.

Edwin stared at him for a moment, hesitation apparent in his expression. Charles wondered what it was that held him back, what told him that he should isolate himself at a table and not participate in anything.

Maybe he thought he was too good for it all. Oftentimes it did seem like Edwin thought he was too good to be doing what everyone else was, like skating in the public rink or cleaning up the ice afterwards.

But he’d seen him with the girls before, teaching Becky some figure skater tricks and answering all of Emma’s questions. He knew that there had to be a fun side hidden in there somewhere.

“One game?” Charles challenged. “How about if you beat me in one game, I let you skate however late you want. For one week!” He added on quickly.

He held his hand out, wiggling his fingers when Edwin didn’t take it. He put on his best convincing smile, even wagging his eyebrows at him, as if he might be able to tempt him like Niko or Crystal had earlier.

Edwin looked at his hand. “As late as I want?” he asked.

“Yep, that’s what I said, mate.”

Edwin tilted his head to the side, as if he needed to investigate every angle of his hand. “And what’s in it for you? What do you get if you win?”

Charles pointed at him, briefly retracting his hand. “Ah, smart lad!” Edwin actually did glare at him this time. “If I win, you have to help me with my paper.”

Edwin blinked at him, the glare disappearing. “Paper?” he asked, as if he’d never heard the word before.

“You’re an English major, right?” he asked. Edwin nodded. “Sounds like the perfect person to help me with my World Lit paper.”

“So let me get this straight,” Edwin said. “If I win, I get one week of skating as late as I want. If you win, you get an A on a paper.”

Charles shrugged. “I didn’t say I had to get an A.”

“No, but if I were to help you, you would,” Edwin said, sounding every bit as haughty and bitchy as Charles knew he could.

“Ohh, someone’s talking a big game,” Charles said. “Think that highly of yourself?”

“Perhaps I simply think that lowly of your professors,” Edwin said.

Charles stuck his hand back out. “Why don’t we just play and see?”

Edwin took his hand, his grip far firmer and rougher than Charles would have expected from how gracefully he moved. “I suppose we will.”

With the deal struck, Charles led them over to the basketball shooting game. Aside from a few friendly games here and there, Charles had never been much of a basketball player before, but he had the sense that Edwin was even less of one.

Edwin swiped his player card, the first time he’d done so since Niko had handed it to him, and the game started up. Some crazy song blared as the lights kicked on, the scoreboard flashing before darkening to a zero and the basketballs dropped down.

Charles gestured for him to go first. He had been the one to swipe after all.

Charles had always liked timed games like this. The sense of urgency it created, the drive to go faster often making you a worse shot. But Charles thrived off of those instances, always seeming to react better when the physical actions were timed and required a quick turn around.

It would seem Edwin wasn’t half bad at it, either.

The ball had looked awkward in his hands at first, as if he wasn’t sure exactly how to shoot the thing, but once he figured it out he wasn’t half bad. His height and long arms had certainly helped, Charles was sure, but he didn’t think it was enough to win him the game.

Charles tried not to watch him as he shot the ball, the short sleeves of his shirt riding up just enough to show more of his rather pale arms. Again, how had Charles not realized that he had arm muscles like that before now? Even if he had been wearing a long sleeve shirt before, it seemed criminal to not recognize that fact.

The buzzer sounded, a blaring, ringing thing that caused Edwin to lose focus and drop a ball. Charles had been so distracted he’d nearly forgotten to take a peek at the score before it flashed and disappeared.

“Twenty-eight, not too bad,” he said. He made a big show of stretching out his back and cracking his knuckles as if that would make a difference. “But let me show you how a real pro does it.”

Charles pulled out his card and swiped it as well, trying to radiate all the confidence in the world. He could get more than twenty-eight baskets, he knew he could. If Edwin could get that, so could he.

The game started up again, both of them better prepared for the noise this time. He immediately tried to lock in, to block out the eyes he could feel burning through him from Edwin. Maybe it was all in his head. Maybe Edwin wasn’t even looking at him but at the game. Why would he be watching him, anyways?

One after another, he scored. He couldn’t stop the grin he could feel spreading across his face, but he didn’t dare chance a look at the scoreboard. There was no time to waste, he could properly gloat when he won.

The buzzer went off and Charles finally looked.

Thirty-one. Charles had only scored thirty-one points. Sure, it was more than Edwin, but barely! If Edwin hadn’t had such a poor start, they probably would have scored the same thing!

Or Edwin could have even won! That just seemed wrong.

“You win,” Edwin said. He didn’t sound bothered by it, like Charles figured he would. It kind of took the fun out of winning if he couldn’t rub it in an annoyed Edwin’s face.

“Looks like I did,” he said.

Edwin’s eyes trailed around the room, looking at the other arcade games. “Best two out of three?” he asked, nodding his head to another game.

It was some sort of racing game, the type with a steering wheel and pedals and gear shifts. He’d loved those games as a kid, but his dad had rarely ever let him play them. Said they were a waste of money because you didn’t even get a prize or tickets if you won and were over in like three seconds. Like roller coasters or ice cream cones.

Not that he would have ever been allowed to use the tickets or keep the prizes, anyways.

“Why, because you think you’ll just be so much better at video games?” he asked. Crystal had told him before that he wasn’t. Would he argue that fact?

Edwin shrugged. “Fine. If you are scared to lose, simply say that.”

“I’m not scared,” Charles protested, which did nothing to help his case. Even to his ears it was childish and pointless.

“I believe you,” Edwin said.

“I feel like you don’t.”

“That is your problem, not mine.”

“Fine!” Charles said. “Let’s race.”

They swiped their cards and got set up. Charles selected a sleek looking red car while Edwin chose one that was a disgusting green color.

“Couldn’t even pick something pretty?” Charles teased.

“It had the best handling. It seemed the safest,” Edwin defended.

“Those aren’t even real stats,” Charles said. “I’m pretty sure they just put that so you use different vehicles.”

Except it did seem as though Edwin’s car handled better. On straight shots and open roads, Charles’s virtual car zoomed, leaving everyone in the dust. But around the curves and in city streets Edwin’s car swerved and dipped, weaving in between obstacles with surprising ease.

In the end, Edwin won by the skin of his teeth. Or that was at least what Charles was telling himself.

“We shoulda used the same car,” Charles said, trying not to sound like he was whining. “That’s really the only way to make it fair.”

Edwin smiled, one of the first real smiles he’d seen directed at him. “Would you like to make this our third game?”

Charles shook his head. No, he didn’t. “We’ve already changed it once; we should make all three of them different.”

Edwin nodded, accepting his answer.

Charles’s eyes roamed around the room. It was filled with other college students unlike when they had first arrived. It would seem Niko and Crystal had been right about this being a very popular spot. He hoped the rest of the team never discovered it, or all of their hangouts were going to be here for the next year.

And he really could only take so much of Brad and Hunter yelling about video games at each other.

“What about that?” he asked, pointing to the air hockey table.

“Air hockey?” Edwin asked.

“Yeah,” Charles said, smiling.

Edwin narrowed his eyes. “You want me to play you at air hockey?”

“Well, not if you’re scared.”

Edwin stood up from his pretend driver’s seat, gesturing for Charles to lead the way.

“Should we call one of the girls over?” Edwin asked. “Have them be our referee?”

“Why?” Charles asked. “Afraid to play against me?”

“I have seen you practice,” Edwin said. “You cannot hit the broad side of a barn. What makes you so sure you will be able to get it in?”

Alright, Charles would be lying if he said that didn’t sting a bit. Or a lot. But he wasn’t going to let a thing like that upset him. There was no point in letting his words phase him or getting angry about it.

“Right, mate, just remember that when you’re helping me with my paper,” he said.

The table started up, air whooshing out of the holes and lifting their strikers until they spun around. The puck dropped down on Charles’s side, and he smiled. Edwin thought he couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn, huh? Well, he’d show him.

He slammed the puck across to the other side, using his old-fashioned play of ‘overwhelming speed’ to try and throw Edwin for a loop.

Surprisingly, it didn’t work.

Edwin barely moved, just letting the momentum of the puck bounce off his striker until it flew back to Charles’s side. He tried again, slamming it into the wall before sending it careening back to Edwin’s side. Again, Edwin hardly moved, just letting it bounce around for a little bit before gently sending it back in the right direction.

This went on for several rounds until Charles accidentally reached too far and missed.

Lights flashed on the machine, an electrical “1” flashing on Edwin’s side.

“Oops,” Edwin said, and Charles was fairly certain that was a smirk on his face. Who knew Edwin Payne could fucking smirk?

“Oops my ass,” Charles said, snatching the puck up again. “You better enjoy that, because that’s the last one you’re gonna get.”

It in fact, was not the last one Edwin got. In fact, he went on to get three more before Charles scored one.

“Here they are!” Niko said, dragging Crystal over. A strand of tickets dangled from her hands, with several more in Crystal’s. Charles tried to ignore them as he swatted the puck back over to Edwin’s side, who had moved from passively batting the puck back and forth to actually slamming it back at Charles.

“Oh God,” Crystal said. “I can’t believe you’re playing games against him.”

Charles wanted to glance at her, to see which him she had been talking about, but he didn’t dare let his eyes leave that bright orange puck. The second he did Edwin would score again.

“Why?” Niko asked.

Crystal sighed and leaned against the table, which caused both Charles and Edwin to protest. “Because Edwin has a competitive streak a mile wide. He’s like, the worst person to play one on one games against.”

“You only say that because you lose,” Edwin said and scored again.

“Wrong. You don’t win that much more than me,” she said.

Edwin raised an eyebrow, his eyes still never leaving the table. “I always win our ‘all or nothing’ games,” he said. “That means I always win.”

She sighed and Charles could tell without even looking at her that she was rolling her eyes. “That’s because you used to like to bite.”

“Wrong,” he said, in the exact same tone she had earlier. “That was you.”

Charles did glance up at her now, and she flashed him a smile that wasn’t even remotely ashamed. “Okay, it was.”

“I thought you said he sucked at video games,” Charles mumbled.

Crystal nodded. “He does. This isn’t a video game, is it?”

Edwin scored the final goal of the game.

Charles couldn’t help but feel like he had been tricked by the two of them somehow.

“Okay!” Crystal said. “Let’s eat!”

Niko cut her off. “No, no, no! Let’s get pictures!” She pointed over to a small photo booth against the wall. It was so tiny he wasn’t even sure his or Edwin’s legs would fit in it.

Edwin and Crystal exchanged a look. Charles wished he could read it, understand exactly what it was they were saying to each other, but the look was so quick it was almost gone before he even realized they were doing it.

“Come on,” Niko said, as if she sensed that no one else was really interested in it. “I need pictures for my wall.”

Another look passed between Edwin and Crystal.

“I’m down,” Charles said, stepping forward. He threw an arm around her shoulders, nodding for the others to follow after them.

“I guess, yeah,” Crystal said, walking with them. Which left Edwin to either stand there like a jackass or come with them.

Thankfully, and to Charles’s surprise, he came with them.

The booth seemed even smaller up close. Charles could practically see the top of the machine if he stood on his tiptoes. Not to mention the little bench inside looked like it was barely wide enough for one of them at a time.

“How do you wanna do this, Niko,” he said. “Take turns? Rotate out?”

Niko shook her head. “No! It needs to be all of us, that’s what makes great photobooth pictures.”

Edwin leaned in, looking at it. “I hardly think all four of us will fit in there.”

Niko frowned. “Sure we will,” she said, and pulled him back. “I go first,” she said, squeezing into the corner, hardly even sitting on the bench. “And then Charles,” she said, pulling him in, and forcing him into the same position next to her. It was awkward, practically a wall squat with half the amount of room he would need to properly do it. “And now Crystal,” she said, leaning around Charles to pull her in, shuffling her in until she was sitting on Niko’s lap. Which only left Edwin standing outside the booth, the only spot left “open” being Charles’s lap.

“Come on, Edwin,” Niko said, waving her hand.

Edwin was frozen outside the booth, looking like an animal that would much rather gnaw off his own arm before getting in that booth. Charles couldn’t help but agree.

“Niko,” Charles said, trying to reason with her. There was hardly enough room to turn and look at her. “I don’t think–”

Before he could continue, Edwin climbed inside.

The space was definitely not meant to contain two nearly six-foot guys and two girls, but here it was. And where did the confined space leave Edwin room for?

Right on Charles’s lap.

Except, not really. He was hovering, his legs bent and angled so that there was hardly even the barest amount of pressure from him on Charles, but Charles knew he was there. He could smell the faint whiff of his cologne, something expensive, Charles was sure and feel the faint brush of his clothes as he tried in vain to not sit on Charles’s lap.

Goddamn, he was going to kill Niko. Or die. Both sounded like good options.

Crystal reached an arm out, sort of propping Edwin up, which he looked grateful for. With his free hand he swiped his card, and the machine started up, giving them instructions on how many it would take, how long it would be between the flashes, and everything else these booths tended to say.

Charles heard approximately none of it.

The first couple went by in a flash. In between them, however, Edwin slipped– just a bit– and ended up falling straight into Charles.

He put his hands on his waist, making sure neither one of them actually fell out of the booth.

The camera flashed, Charles not even remembering to pose for the camera despite Niko giving them instructions.

The second the camera was done, Edwin launched himself out of the booth as if Charles’s hands had burned him.

They climbed out after him, much slower than he had. Niko was chatting a mile a minute, giggling excitedly as she waited for the pictures to print. Crystal watched her, a fond smile on her face as she leaned against the booth.

Thankfully, it didn’t take long for them to print. They dropped into the little slot, and Niko snatched them up before any of them could so much as even glance at them.

There were only two strips of photos, but Niko quickly ripped them in half to share. “These are for us,” Niko said, setting aside her and Crystal’s photos. “And these are you two.”

Charles glanced at the photos in his hand, already imagining how bad they were. There was something about photo booths that always made you look washed out and dead. But that wasn’t the case here, or maybe it was, but it certainly wasn’t what Charles was focused on.

Instead, his eyes caught on his own surprised face and red darkened cheeks, and he realized that must have been the photo where Edwin had fallen into his lap. The next one wasn’t much better, with both of them looking rather like a couple of deer caught in headlights.

At least Crystal and Niko looked cute. They both wore matching grins in one and in the other they were crossing their eyes and sticking out their tongues. Niko must have asked for a silly one then, but he and Edwin hadn’t been paying attention. At least they’d managed to look pretty stupid, even without the instruction.

Crystal pulled Edwin to the side for a moment, although it was impossible to hear what they were saying over the noise of the arcade around them. Niko didn’t even seem to notice, instead pointing out her favorite picture to Charles.

Edwin frowned at Crystal and shook his head. She said something, and he only frowned harder. He shook his head again, and this time she seemed to accept that answer.

What was that about?

She turned back and seemed surprised that Charles was looking at them when she did so. She flashed him a tight smile before she and Edwin made their way back over.

“Okay, so food?” she asked.

The arcade seemed to specialize in ‘greasy bar food’ as Edwin referred to it, much to his dismay. Charles wasn’t sure what was so wrong with that, as it all sounded pretty good to him, but he merely threw an arm around Edwin’s shoulders again and gave him a little shake.

“C’mon, one plate of cheesy chips or wings won’t kill you,” he said, which earned him a glare from Edwin.

“Sorry,” Crystal said genuinely. “I should have thought about that.”

Niko frowned. “Oh, no! Are you allergic?” she asked.

To what, Charles thought, grease?

“No,” Edwin shook his head at the same time Crystal answered.

“Edwin doesn’t really eat shit like this during competition season,” Crystal said.

Charles looked up at the menu, looking for anything that wouldn’t be considered ‘shit’ to a figure skater. He still didn’t think one plate of unhealthy food would affect him that much, but it wasn’t really his place to decide that. Even some hockey players had meal plans and requirements that they had to stick to, and he wasn’t going to interfere with anyone else’s.

“It’s fine,” Edwin said, picking at an invisible thread on his clothes. “I can wait until I get home.”

Which wasn’t the point, Charles resisted the urge to say. He himself was practically starving, as lunch had been hours away, and he couldn’t imagine waiting until he got home to eat. There was no way he was going to ask one of his fr– someone he was hanging out with to do that, either.

“Gimme a minute,” he said, and walked towards the counter before anyone else could stop him.

They had lettuce for their burgers and ranch for dipping sauces and other little veggies for sides. Surely, if he was charming enough, he could convince them to make some sort of salad out of all that. It might not be the best, but at least Edwin wouldn’t have to go hungry.

To Charles’s surprise, it took very little convincing for the girl behind the counter to agree to throw together some of their ingredients. “Yeah, absolutely,” she said, smiling at Charles. “Was there anything else you wanted?”

“Just whatever else they want,” he said, stepping aside so the girls could order.

The girl behind the counter's face fell. “Oh. Alright, what can I get you?” She tapped the screen much harder than she had a few moments ago.

Charles turned back to Edwin, throwing his arm around his shoulders again. “They’re gonna make you a salad,” Charles said. “Know it’s not much, but it’s all I could really do with what they had.”

Edwin seemed genuinely surprised by this. “Oh. Well, thank you,” he said. He gave him a small, barely there smile and Charles could suddenly see why Niko had thought he was shy. There was something about the way he smiled, as if he wasn’t sure it was allowed, that picked at something in Charles’s stomach.

He let his arm slide off his shoulders, suddenly self-conscious of how much of him was touching him, as if Edwin hadn’t been practically in his lap a few minutes ago.

Crystal paid for their meals before he could get back up there, labeling that this whole thing could be considered a ‘team building event’ before waving them off to one of the booths. He and Edwin sat across from each other, leaving the girls to fill in the spots in the booth next to them.

“You did not have to do that,” Edwin protested again, once their food arrived. The salad looked a little sad, but it was better than nothing, he thought. Still, Edwin ate it, not even complaining about the sorry state of its presentation.

“Just wanted to make sure you had something, mate,” he said, picking at what passed for chips. They were greasy and more than a bit soggy, but he couldn’t deny that they were delicious after all of the games they’d been playing. And far better than anything the caf on campus had to offer.

Crystal slid her own plate of them between her and Edwin. He looked at it for a moment, before taking a couple and putting them on the side of this plate. She brushed her hands off to the side before gesturing to Charles and Niko. “So, how did you two meet again?”

Charles opened his mouth, trying to talk around the food in it for a second before Niko put her hand over his face to speak. “We met at an ice rink!” Niko said. “After my… When I was a teenager, I wanted to do a bunch of new things to get me out of my shell. Ice skating was one of those,” she said, smiling at Charles.

He nodded and smiled back at her. It was hard to believe that Niko was the same, scared girl who had nearly cried trying to sign up for a skating class. If he hadn’t been there, practicing with his old team, he might not have ever met her.

How weird was it that one little moment could have changed everything?

If he hadn’t met her, he probably never would have tried out for scholarships in the States. He probably still would have been stuck at home, his dad hanging over everything he did. And Niko definitely would have been worse off for all of it, the closed, shut-in sixteen-year-old hardly even able to leave her room. Moving to the UK was supposed to have been a new start for her after she lost her dad, and instead it had almost cost her everything.

“So you guys have been best friends ever since?” Crystal asked. “That’s nice.”

“It is,” Charles said, nodding. “What about you two?”

Edwin glanced at Crystal and again it was like a whole conversation took place before he spoke. “Our families are old friends,” he said.

Crystal rolled her eyes. “Our parents are rich losers who thought throwing their kids at each other was the answer to all of their problems,” she said. Edwin rolled his eyes and stole another chip from her plate, although he didn’t actually eat it. “Likes siblings. But worse.”

“So you guys have known each other, like, your whole lives,” Niko said, almost dreamily.

Both Crystal and Edwin nodded, although there was that familiar glance again.

Edwin’s phone lit up from its spot on the table, although he made no move to answer it.

“That must be pretty cool, getting to stick with each other that long,” Charles said. He couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous. He always was a little sad that he and Niko hadn’t had the same thing.

Edwin finally did glance at his phone, but before he could answer it, Crystal snatched it. “Family dinner,” she said with a rather sharp grin.

“Love this family,” Edwin said, only a bit sarcastically and bit into one of his stolen chips. He immediately put it back down with a grimace and slid the others back onto Crystal’s plate.

“Gross,” she complained, but didn’t take any actions to remove them.

“I’m seeing the siblings vibe, now,” Charles joked, which earned him a glare from both Edwin and Crystal.

“So what made you move here?” Crystal asked Charles. And the question was directed firmly at Charles, so he couldn’t help but wonder if she’d already asked Niko it at some point.

How much did these two talk, anyways?

“Scholarship,” he answered. “School was offering me almost a completely free ride to play hockey and I couldn’t turn that down.”

Crystal nodded. “Makes sense. They’re good at picking players,” she said.

“Do you know a lot about hockey?” Charles asked. “I mean, I figure you both know a lot about figure skating, but…”

Crystal snorted. “A lot is an understatement, but yeah. I also know a lot about hockey. I used to play back when I was a kid. Obviously, not like you do, but you know.” She shrugged. “That and Edwin’s figure skating is part of the reason why my parents bought the rink.”

“Surprised you didn’t go the figure skating route,” Charles said. “Isn’t that usually a paired thing? You guys already had built in buddies.”

Crystal gave Edwin a look. “I think we would have killed each other.”

“Or ourselves,” Edwin said, agreeing.

“So how did you end up here,” Charles asked, pointing a chip at Edwin. “Crystal’s got the rink, but what made you come here?”

Because Charles really had poured over this question for far too long. Edwin was a good figure skater, a great one even, although he was loath to admit it when his attitude was bad. He likely could have gone to almost any program with skills like his, and with the kind of money his and Crystal’s parents had it’s not like they needed to send him here for schooling.

There was also the fact that he had transferred in. He wasn’t a freshman, but Charles had definitely never seen him around campus before, he would have remembered.

Edwin shifted in his seat, as if Charles had asked him what color his underwear was rather than why he was going to this school. No one spoke, a heavy sort of feeling settling over the table, and Charles almost regretted ruining the vibes before he spoke.

“I had nowhere else to go,” Edwin answered honestly.

And God if Charles didn’t relate to that.

XXX

“I will, you know,” Edwin said, seemingly out of nowhere.

The girls had insisted on catching a bus back to the rink or campus, but Edwin had said he’d walk, and Charles didn’t feel comfortable letting him walk alone. The area might be relatively safe, but he would feel like shit if he left him alone and something happened.

“Will what, mate?” Charles asked. The night air was crisp, the temperature finally deciding to cool off after the hot, late summer sun. Charles inhaled, letting the air in and then out as he swung his arms around in stretches.

“Help you with your paper,” Edwin said.

He glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. It seemed as if he were purposefully looking anywhere other than Charles. The street wasn’t that interesting, after all.

“You don’t have to do that,” he said. “Didn’t win the bet, did I?” Charles asked.

Edwin did that small, lips pressed together, half smile that Charles was starting to recognize. That was his ‘I don’t want to actually smile’ smile, his ‘you said something funny, and you don’t even know it’ smile.

Charles didn’t know that to think that he was starting to recognize what kind of smile Edwin had, when just a few days ago he hadn’t thought he was even capable of them.

“No,” Edwin said. “You didn’t. But it seemed only fair since you went along with everything else tonight.”

Charles thought back over the day, searching for what Edwin could have possibly meant. Talking with Emma? Playing arcade games? None of that really seemed worthy of Edwin’s help, especially considering what the terms of their bet had been.

“What ‘everything’ else?” Charles asked.

That same damn smile only grew. “Nothing,” he said, shaking his head. “I will be back practicing at Crystal’s this week. I could always help you one of those nights?”

Charles thought of the empty rink– no one else around to bother them or interrupt them. Or save them if their conversations flubbed and they wanted to kill each other.

But hadn’t that been the point of tonight? Proving that they could get along, if they tried? They didn’t have to always have to tiptoe each other in every conversation. They could talk to each other like adults and somehow actually have a good time doing it.

Then again, he doubted anyone could have a bad time at the arcade.

“It’s a d-” he cut himself off with a cough, almost letting the word ‘date’ slip out before he could stop if. “Deal.” He held his hand out, which Edwin eyed suspiciously after his cough, but accepted it nonetheless.

Charles tried not to be excited for a fucking paper.

It didn’t work.

Notes:

I already had plans for Charles to be stupid over Edwin's arms, and then those photos of George in drag dropped today and my brain fucking SHUT DOWN lol!

Editing: 6/20/2025 THANK YOU TO atelierdemoras for this lovely fanart of the photo booth moment! Everyone go and check it out, it's adorable!

Chapter 8: When There's A Good Thing Coming I Turn Around Instead, I'm Getting Good At Ignoring It

Notes:

"I get a little bit tired
From all the memories I've got inside my head,
I get a little bit higher
Even though I know I'm not deserving it,
I feel a little desire
Every time I open up and lose control,"
Too Late to Say by State Champs

Late summer into early fall was Edwin’s favorite time of the year. At least, around here it was. The sun was still warm, heating everything until a sweat broke out right before a nice, cool breeze would come in and blow everything away.

And the nights were wonderfully crisp, the air turning sharp in his throat before warming again on the way out. Mornings were nice too, all quiet and dewy before the sun rose and burned it all away.

It also made this the perfect season for running. Not so hot that he would overheat, but not so cold that it made it hard on his muscles to exercise.

His phone buzzed from its place against his arm. Crystal always mocked him, saying he looked like an old man wearing his phone in a holder wrapped around his arm, but at least he wasn’t going to drop it this way.

He glanced at his watch. Did you already go on your run?

Simon. Of course it was Simon, who else would text him this early?

Edwin glanced around the nearly empty campus. He hadn’t even really meant to run this way, instead just picking a random direction based on whatever way seemed to have the least amount of people.

He could always lie and say he wasn’t going on a run today. Or say that he had actually just finished it. One of those things was definitely more believable than the other, but neither one of them would suit Simon, he feared.

On campus right now Edwin sent, hoping that Simon would get the hint.

Meet you there, Simon sent back.

So it would seem he wouldn’t.

It took less time than Edwin had expected for Simon to catch up with him. He wondered if he’d already been on a run or if he had double timed it over from his apartment.

Edwin tried to focus again like he had been before, putting all of his effort into matching his breaths to his footsteps.

In. Step. Out. Step. In. Step. Out. Step.

“Do you want to study this week?” Simon asked. “I have one of the library spots reserved.”

It was tempting. Edwin actually loved the library cubicles, but he rarely ever took time to secure one. Partnering up with Simon would be the perfect excuse to do so.

Too bad Edwin already had plans.

“Sorry, but I’m going to help someone with his paper,” he said.

He thought Simon’s head was going to explode.

“You’re going to what?” Simon asked, the words coming out in a burst of air. “Who?” His face was red, even redder than Edwin’s even though he hadn’t been running half as long as Edwin had.

He had never had much endurance.

They came to a crosswalk and stopped. Well, Simon stopped and bent over, and Edwin jogged in place. “Charles Rowland? I am going to be helping him with one of his papers?” he said, his words more like a question.

Simon looked up at him from under his fringe, his hands on his knees. “Why? Doesn’t he know how to read?”

Edwin rolled his eyes. “I am sure he’s perfectly capable of reading,” Edwin said.

“Then why help?” Simon asked.

Why indeed.

“No need to do charity work, Edwin,” Simon said.

The light changed and Edwin shot across the street, leaving Simon behind.

“Is that where you were the other night?” he asked. “Helping Rowland with his homework?”

Of course, Simon still wasn’t over messaging Edwin the other night when he was at the arcade, to no response. He had fully intended to answer him back once Crystal gave him his phone back, but he’d all but passed out the second he got home.

“No,” Edwin said, although he did not elaborate. He hardly thought it would sound better if he said that he was playing arcade games with him.

“All I’m saying is be careful around him,” Simon huffed, and not entirely from the run. “You never know what a guy like that might want.”

What does that mean? Edwin wanted to ask. But he didn’t. Simon would probably take that to mean he was questioning his “all knowing wisdom,” and then they would fight and somehow still be expected to practice together later.

It had happened before, and it would surely happen again, but he wanted to avoid it if he could help it.

“Your concern is noted,” Edwin said blandly.

Simon scrunched his nose up. “It’s not concern,” he said. “Just common sense, Payne.”

XXX

Edwin hadn’t expected to see her on campus.

It was one thing to know that she would be on campus, she was Simon’s coach after all, it would be strange if she wasn’t around, but it was a completely different thing to see her in person.

Coach Dolores Despair hovered at the edge of the lawn; the open green space students covered in blankets to study. It was hard to tell if she had even seen him, but Edwin would guess from the way he could see her lips quirk up slightly, a half-crazed smirk, that she had.

He fought down every instinct inside him that told him to run.

Edwin could feel the pain spike down his back, his legs burning. It was a mix of fire and ice, simultaneously too hot and too cold to stand.

His mouth watered and his stomach turned. He bit his lips to prevent himself from being sick.

There were people talking over him. He wasn’t sure what anyone was saying, the fog of confusion and pain doing its absolute best to keep everything as disorienting as it possibly could.

“Edwin!”

That was Simon, Edwin knew that much. But nothing else made sense, everyone else was a stranger.

Strange hands on his face, pulling his eyes open. A bright light shone into them, and Edwin wanted to tell them to stop, that it hurt, and he couldn’t see, that whatever was wrong with him wasn’t in his eyes, but everywhere else.

No one listened to him. Or maybe he didn’t actually say anything. His tongue felt heavy, uncoordinated. Could a tongue be uncoordinated?

Edwin had never been uncoordinated in his life.

“They’re gonna help you, Payne,” Simon said. “Edwin, do you hear me? They’re gonna help you.”

“Looks like we got here just in time,” another stranger’s voice said. “You might have just saved your friend’s life.”

That must have been directed at Simon, if his, “Oh God,” was anything to go by.

“Is this seat taken?”

Edwin ripped himself from his spiraling thoughts to see a young man standing next to him.

He jerked his head back towards where he had last seen Coach Despair, but she was gone. Or had she even been there? Simon hadn’t told him that she was going to be on campus today, and neither had Coach King, who at least usually ran interference for him.

Had he simply imagined her?

Edwin turned his attention back to the boy. He had the biggest brown eyes Edwin had ever seen on anyone, even Charles, and he couldn’t help but think of the time Crystal had described such things as “cursed” because they could make you do anything.

Edwin looked down at the seat he was pointing at across from him before glancing around. At some point during his studying the tables had filled up, leaving very few spots open. Even the open grassy spaces were few and far between.

Still, Edwin couldn’t help but wonder why he had chosen to ask him to sit across from.

“Um, no,” Edwin awkwardly said. “I was leaving, actually.” He threw his book into his bag and reached for his notebooks as well, unable to stop a few pages from slipping free and fluttering in the breeze.

The stranger caught them, barely even wrinkling them in his haste to do so. “Don’t let me run you off,” he said with a smile. “I actually only asked because you were sitting here.”

Edwin glanced up at him, gently taking the papers from his hand. He was sure the surprise was evident on his face, but he didn’t know how to remove it. “Me?” Edwin asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “Unless you see another cute boy sitting here reading?”

Edwin actually glanced around, which made the guy laugh.

“My name’s Monty,” he said, extending his hand. “What’s yours?’

Edwin looked at it, unsure, before shaking it. “Edwin,” he said.

Monty sat down across from him, obviously taking Edwin’s attempt at conversation as permission. “Yellow Wallpaper, huh?” he asked. “English major? Or just some light reading?”

Edwin thought back to the hospital rooms with their incessant beeping, of his own bedroom plastered with medals and trophies that only served to mock him. Crystal and Simon both standing there while he hurled insults at them, hoping that they would leave so he’d never have to see them again, all while internally begging them to stay so he wouldn’t be alone.

His parents placed a strict ‘no visitor’ policy after one such argument had ended with a broken window.

“Tutoring someone,” Edwin answered, finally shaking the thoughts away. He refused to even glance in the lawn’s direction again.

Monty raised an eyebrow at him. “Tutoring! Didn’t know they offered such cute tutors for English,” he said.

Edwin could feel his cheeks heat up. Was Monty… flirting with him? That was… new.

“I am not actually a tutor,” Edwin said. His brain seemed to shut down, unable to figure out how to navigate this situation. He’d never had anyone flirt with him before, much less so openly.

Was it a joke?

“A little pro bono tutoring, respect,” Monty said. “Maybe you could help me sometime.”

Edwin doubted that. The only reason he was helping Charles was because he felt like he owed him. Between somehow averting an overstimulated panic attack and making sure he got dinner at the arcade, he felt as if it were the least he could do.

He didn’t enjoy feeling like he owed anyone anything. He might have won their bet fair and square, but that didn’t mean that he was in the clear just yet. Not with the kindness and favors stacking up on Charles’s side.

Monty didn’t seem to mind him avoiding an answer, however, as he simply pulled out a notebook and tablet and started to take notes on something. Edwin couldn’t tell what it was, nor did he care enough to investigate, but he did watch him for just a moment longer. He couldn’t help but wonder what on Earth was going on.

He sighed as he dug around for some other homework to do. He couldn’t go back to that story, not just yet, but he could still at least be productive.

Edwin was hesitant to admit it, but it was almost… nice sitting across from Monty. The sun was warm at this back, the breeze was cool, and nothing smelled like antiseptic. And if he didn’t think too heavily on it, he could pretend that the eyes he felt on his back was actually Monty sneaking a few glances at him and not Despair creeping around.

Neither one of them spoke, which Edwin was grateful for. People tended to like him better the less he spoke.

He looked familiar, though Edwin wasn’t sure why. Was he in one of his classes perhaps? Or maybe he had simply seen him around campus over the last few weeks. It’s not as if the campus was overly large, it was possible he’d passed him and never even knew it.

Slowly, the sun crept across the sky until it faded into a warm orange. The people around them had thinned out, leaving only a few scattered students eking out the last of the daylight.

“I should probably go,” Monty said, pushing himself up from the table. “But this was nice.” He gave Edwin a shy smile, and Edwin could almost place where he had seen him before the thought slipped away again.

“It was,” Edwin agreed.

“Maybe we could do it again sometime?” Monty asked, and Edwin felt a surge of something—excitement, panic, nervousness— before Monty smiled again and left.

He didn’t even ask for a way to contact him.

XXX

Edwin took extra time to stretch that night. He could feel the tightness in his legs, the stiffness in his back that begged for him to either stretch it out or lay the fuck down.

He could only hope that doing one would work. He had no time for the other.

He still needed to practice. Charles would show up in a couple of hours, and he had promised to help him with his homework. He had no intentions of going back on their deal now.

Edwin didn’t even bother to turn on music. He likely wouldn’t make it through his routine entirely tonight, not if the way his legs shook when he tried to do his jumps. Instead, he would run through everything else, focusing on building up his strength, just like he had told Becky the other day.

Coach King would be proud of him.

Well, not the skating outside of his practices. He would actually be pretty pissed about that fact. In fact, he had been when Charles had let it slip that he was still skating at Crystal’s rink. He had fucking drilled Edwin into the ground that practice and gave him his usual speech of “if you’re not going to listen, I’ll get another student.”

They both knew it wasn’t true, but the threat had been enough to make Edwin stop over practicing at Crystal’s for a few nights. That combined with the pain he’d been in afterwards.

Coach King and Simon actually escorted him home that day, as embarrassing as that had been. At least Coach King hadn’t made him ride in his car, that would have been even worse.

But he was better now. He’d just have to take things a little easier, to make sure the thoughts swirling around didn’t turn towards things they shouldn’t. Like creeping coaches and ambulance rides. He could still skate and discuss a report with Charles. He wasn’t weak or feeble or anything else people might think he was.

His practice went by in the blink of an eye. One minute he was starting, and the next Charles was standing at the edge of the ice, staring at him.

His chest heaved, trying to catch his breath. How long had he been standing there?

“Got dinner,” Charles called out, holding up a bag that contained two to-go boxes from the caf on campus. “Crystal said you’d eat this.”

Butterflies filled Edwin’s stomach, leaving no room for even the thought of dinner. It shouldn’t be so easy to produce them. So what if Charles had showed up with dinner? He was perfectly capable of getting his own food. In fact, he should be angry at Charles wasting part of his meal plan or money on him.

Yet he couldn’t be.

Edwin skated over, stopping just short of the exit off the ice. A smile covered almost all of Charles’s face, crinkling his eyes as he dangled the bag at him. “Wanna eat down here or in the office?”

Edwin glanced at the benches, knowing how painful they were to sit on for long periods of time. But Crystal’s office had comfortable chairs, specifically picked because she knew how many hours they might be spending there.

He also knew how much Crystal would hate it if they ate in there.

“Office,” Edwin said. “Let me get changed and I’ll be up in a minute.

XXX

Charles had already made himself at home by the time Edwin had shuffled up the stairs. He’d spread out his haul out across Crystal’s desk, at least having the decency to move her keyboard and mouse out of the way.

“Dinner is served,” Charles said when he walked in, waving his arms out over his spread.

“So I can see,” Edwin said, eyeing his own dinner. Grilled chicken, a ton of rice, an assortment of veggies, and some sort of questionable sauce. It would seem Charles had done rather well taking notes on what Edwin would eat. He wondered what he’d specifically asked Crystal, and why he had even gone through the trouble.

“What is that?” he asked, pointing at the sauce.

Charles shrugged, still smiling. “No clue, but they gave it to me with the rice so I thought I would offer it.”

Edwin shuddered to think what an American cafeteria thought needed to go with the rice, so he set it aside. All in all, however, it looked pretty good.

Way better than the reheated dinner he’d been thinking about eating.

“So do you practice every day?” Charles asked around a bite that seemed to contain everything from the caf.

“I train every day,” Edwin said. “Even if it’s not on the ice.”

Charles nodded. “I figured, since you’re…” he waved his hand over Edwin, as if that made any sense.

“I am what?” he asked.

Charles turned red. “Nothing,” he said, a bit too quickly.

Edwin looked down at himself for a moment. He’d changed out of his skating clothes and put on a pain of comfortable sweats and a sweater. Was there something wrong with it?

“Nothing what?” Edwin insisted.

Charles took another hasty bite of his food. “I just meant that you’re fit, you know,” he said, and then seemed to rethink his words. “Not like that. Not hot, I just meant in shape. Not that you’re not hot, just that’s not what I meant. I’m not saying you’re hot either, just–” he cut himself off, coughing into his hand as if he might spit out the bite he’d taken.

Edwin tried to keep track of what he was saying but couldn’t. “You should chew before you speak,” he said instead.

Charles nodded; his mouth firmly shut. “Mmhmm,” he said instead, the sound barely sneaking out around his lips.

Neither one of them said anything after that, instead choosing to eat their meals in silence. Edwin wondered if he should break it first, if he should bring up Charles’s readings or his thoughts on his paper, or even how his other classes were going, but he couldn’t.

Why was it so hard to talk to people like a normal person? First Monty and now Charles? What part of his social skills had been damaged that he was unable to even ask after someone’s classes?

It felt too much like a normal conversation, not just a tutoring session. And Edwin couldn’t explain why he didn’t want that, why he couldn’t let that happen.

His phone buzzed and lit up, the edges of light barely leaking out from its face down position on the desk.

He ignored it.

Two more buzzes sounded.

He should have put his phone on Do Not Disturb.

“Do you need to get that?” Charles asked, nodding towards his phone. “I can step out, if you…”

Edwin shook his head. Whoever was messaging him right now– his parents, Simon, Coach King, was not someone he wanted to speak to right now.

“Alright,” Charles said, his head bobbing up and down awkwardly. “S’there a reason you’re ignoring it?”

Edwin glared at him. “That is none of your business, is it?” he asked. And immediately felt bad. It wasn’t Charles’s fault his phone was almost impossible to ignore.

“Got it, conversations about the phone are off limits,” Charles said, checking an imaginary list in front of him. “Anything else I should add to that, mate?”

Edwin couldn’t help but give him a small smile. “A million and one,” he said. “But we do not have all night, do we?”

Charles grinned back, that signature half ways sort of smile that Edwin was beginning to realize he liked seeing on him. “Got as long as we want, right? Until Crystal comes in and kicks us out.”

“She can’t do that,” Edwin said. “We have keys.”

“Right, right,” Charles said. “So I guess we really do have all night then, huh?”

Edwin leaned forward, as if he were letting Charles in on a secret. “This does not count as one of my nights,” Edwin said.

Charles blinked. “What?”

“One of my ‘practice as long as I want’ nights,” Edwin said. “This does not count as one of them, even if we are here until sun up.”

Charles’s grin was back. “What if we were on the ice?” Charles asked. “Would it count then?”

Edwin tried to imagine what Charles looked like on the ice. Aside from seeing the little bit where he got wiped out by Emma the other day, he hadn’t actually seen him skate. Was he a powerful skater, the kind that ate up the ice before anyone could blink? Or was he slower, more focused in his movements until he got a chance to box someone in?

What position did Charles even play in hockey? It had never occurred to Edwin to ask.

He was tempted to ask, but again it felt like something he shouldn’t. Asking just so he could learn more things about Charles felt like it was crossing a line– another thing for Charles to add to his list.

“You’d get crushed by Brad and Hunter.”

Edwin shook his head, trying to dislodge Charles’s words from before. It didn’t matter what position Charles played, he was still a hockey player through and through.

No matter how nice he seemed right now.

“Let's focus on your paper,” Edwin said, packing away his dinner. It suddenly seemed less appetizing than it had before. Perhaps he could store it for later.

Charles frowned at his sudden topic change. “Oh, um, alright. Got it,” he said. He pulled out some printed out papers and his notebook and handed them over to Edwin, moving his own food off to the side as he started explaining.

“Basically, I’m supposed to write a short essay over this story,” Charles said, gesturing to the printed-out pages, “But I’m stuck. Well, I’m not stuck, I could do it, but I just don’t know how to start. Or well, I know how to start, but–”

Edwin looked up at him and his rambling cut off abruptly. He wondered if he was even aware that he’d been doing it.

“It’s just hard to understand,” Charles finished.

Edwin glanced at the assignment. It seemed like your typical sort of essay prompt, discussing the historical significance of their assigned work– The Yellow Wallpaper in this case, the metaphors and symbolisms in the work, and whether or not it was still relevant today.

“What are you majoring in?” Edwin asked.

“Mechanical engineering,” Charles said, leaning his body into Crystal’s desk. “Which I understand! I can do the math, I can figure out diagrams and shit, but this? I just…”

Edwin watched as he trailed off. “What are you having a hard time understanding about it?”

Charles sighed. “Everything?” At Edwin’s stare he continued. “I can’t tell what’s real or not? And the way it’s written, it’s… old? I dunno. And why did it turn into a horror story at the end?”

Edwin let his questions sink in. “Those are fair questions,” he said. “And rather the point of the story, I fear.”

Charles groaned and dropped his head to the desk. “Great, so I missed the point of the story.”

“No,” Edwin said. “I think you understood it fine.” He glanced at the papers in front of him. “Why did you pick this story? I did not realize it was even assigned in World Lit, as it is usually reserved for American Lit.”

Charles shrugged. “It was the shortest?” he said, almost joking. When Edwin didn’t laugh, he groaned again. “I hate English.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Edwin said, frowning.

“I do,” Charles said, turning his face towards Edwin. “Symbolism, metaphors, weird spellings, just stop and tell me what it means.”

Edwin squinted at the page. He didn’t remember any weird spellings when he’d been reviewing it earlier, but perhaps Charles was reading a different version than he was.

A thought occurred.

“Would it be easier if I read it to you?” he asked.

Charles perked up at that. “I dunno. Maybe?”

Edwin nodded and sorted the pages out. He ignored the fluttering he could feel in his stomach as Charles’s eyes trained on him, watching him organize everything. He also ignored the less than pleasant feelings he had at the main character’s “rest cure,” but that was harder to do.

Maybe he should suggest another story to Charles. One that didn’t make him feel like all of the air had been forced from his lungs or that his bones were going to spear through his skin.

But then he would have to explain why, and Edwin couldn’t do that.

He forced himself to focus on the words on the page. It was merely a story, nothing more, nothing less. A story he’d read before, even, in his own Literature classes. This was nothing new. He could read this short story and talk Charles through his own thoughts on it and help him.

It was a short story, and yet it flew by even quicker than Edwin imagined it would. One moment Edwin was starting it, the next he was reading the last lines and looking to Charles for his input. There was nothing in between, just a blank space of time where he was sure he must have been reading.

Charles opened his eyes, and Edwin felt his heart constrict when he saw the look on his face. It felt strange to have so much of Charles’s attention on him at once, at least without them fighting or smarting off to each other. He couldn’t describe the look on his face now, just that it was there, and it sent a shiver down Edwin’s spine.

A good one. Not one of pain.

“Did you–” Edwin coughed. “Did that help?”

Charles nodded, snapping out of whatever trance he had been in. “I uh, yeah. That actually helped a lot,” he said, his voice quiet, soft. “You’ve got a good voice.” His eyes widened at his words. “For, like, audiobooks or something. Should start a podcast.”

Edwin was glad it had sounded so good, considering he didn’t even remember reading it. “I barely know what a podcast is,” he said, a half-truth.

Neither one of them said anything. Edwin could feel his skin crawling, anxiety creeping up his spine. He should have never offered to read to Charles. It’s not like he was a child; he hardly needed a bedtime story. And even if he did prefer to hear it read aloud, there were surely audiobooks for him to listen to.

Edwin’s phone buzzed on the table. Once, twice, three times.

“I should get that,” he said. The lesser of two demons, really.

Charles frowned. “Oh, alright,” he said.

“I will be right back, and then we can keep going over your paper,” he said, snatching his phone up from the desk.

He stepped outside the door and sighed, trying to get his breathing back under control. A glance at the screen said that it was only Simon texting him. And calling him. Sighing, he tapped his screen and called him back.

“Edwin,” he said, not even waiting for Edwin to answer. “Where are you?”

“At the rink,” he said, kicking at the carpet. “Where else would I be?”

Simon cursed under his breath. “I left my textbooks at your place,” he said. When Edwin didn’t say anything, he continued, “And I kinda need them?”

Edwin sighed again and tilted his head back to look up at the ceiling. Crystal should really look into getting someone after those, they were starting to collect dust. Or had they always been dusty and he simply never looked up?

Interesting. Or at least more interesting than the conversation he was having now.

“I am helping Charles with his homework right now,” Edwin said. “I can bring them over when I finish up here?”

There was a faint shuffling sound from Simon’s end. “So, you’re prioritizing Rowland’s studies over mine?”

“That seems a bit dramatic,” Edwin said, rolling his eyes. “I told you; I will bring your books when I am done.”

“Teaching Rowland to read is going to take forever,” Simon complained. “Can’t you bring them now?”

Edwin bristled. “I am not ‘teaching him to read,’ Simon,” he said. “Why did you even leave your books at my place, anyways?”

More shuffling from Simon’s end. “Figured I would study at your place again before I needed them,” he said. “I guess I was wrong.”

Edwin sighed again. “I will bring them over soon,” he said.

The other end was quiet for a moment. So quiet Edwin was almost sure he’d dropped the call. “Don’t even bother,” Simon said and hung up.

Well, that was going to be a fun conversation to have later.

But Edwin had his own questions and demands of Simon. Did he know that Coach Despair was on campus today? And if so, why did he not tell him?

Edwin inhaled as he gave himself a moment to collect himself before walking back into the office.

Charles’s stuff was packed. His back was to Edwin, his shoulders tense.

“What are you doing?” Edwin asked.

Charles didn’t even turn around to face him.

“It’s getting late,” he said. “We should probably call it a night.”

Edwin glanced at his phone. It was barely even past ten.

“We haven’t even gone over your thoughts yet,” Edwin said. Because he was interested in Charles’s thoughts on the work. He wondered what he might think of it now that he seemed to understand it better than he had before. Did he understand how trapped the main character felt, how restricted she was? That the literal appearance of the paper mattered very little, that it was the character’s ability to see her own mental state declining on it that was the point?

That no one ever listened to her?

Charles was smart, Edwin knew that. You didn’t pick an engineering degree because you were stupid.

“I got the gist of it,” Charles said. “‘Sides, I’m not an idiot. I do actually know how to read and write. I can figure out this paper.”

Edwin flinched at Charles’s words. So, he must have heard at least Edwin’s side of the phone call.

“Charles,” he said, reaching out. But he stopped himself. What was there to say? He was sorry? He hadn’t said the initial insult. In fact, he had been defending him.

But that didn’t always take away the hurt feelings. At least not in Edwin’s experience.

Charles paused, clearly waiting for Edwin to finish his sentence.

But Edwin’s mind had gone blank. He couldn’t think of a single thing he could say to make him stay, to make him understand that wasn’t what he thought. He could throw Simon under the bus, but that felt like the childish option.

When no words came from Edwin, Charles sighed. “Let’s lock up,” he said. And Edwin couldn’t help but be happy that he was at least including him in that and not just leaving.

Charles grabbed his bag and spun around, and Edwin pressed himself up against the door to let him squeeze by. He tried to ignore the way Charles winced as he did so, both of them flinching back from each other.

Edwin was starting to remember why he never offered to tutor someone.

XXX

Edwin didn’t expect to see Charles again the next night. Why would he? He wasn’t even on the schedule Crystal had made for who was supposed to close up the rink, and it wasn’t exactly like either one of them had left off on a good note the night before.

Yet there he was, sitting on one of the benches near the ice. For a moment Edwin thought he was getting ready to skate and wondered if they were going to have their first actual argument about their allotted ice time, but Edwin realized he didn’t even have his skates on.

A notebook plus his handouts were scattered over the bench in front of him, and Edwin couldn’t help but wonder how he was able to keep his things in order like that.

He didn’t even look up at Edwin. Not when he walked in, not when he set his stuff down, and not even when he started his warmups.

It was as if they were back to pretending the other didn’t exist again, except this time Charles wasn’t hiding out in the office. He had instead moved down to the ice so it would be even more obvious that they weren’t talking.

Which was fine. It’s not like Edwin needed to speak to him. Or even wanted to speak to him.

In fact, as he had been so kindly reminded by Simon, he was giving far too much of his attention to things that weren’t skating recently.

“Arcades, tutoring, what’s next? Are you two going to have a picnic in the park?” Simon sneered. “You should be focusing on what’s important. Competitions are coming up and if you think either one of us are ready then you’re wrong.”

He grit his teeth together as he bounced on his toes. Simon was right, of course. There was no time to be playing arcade games or helping someone else with their homework. Not when he had his own assignments to do and competitions to prepare for.

“Is that why Coach Despair was on campus?” Edwin had snarked back. “Because you’re desperate and need her help preparing for competitions?”

Simon hadn’t hit him, but it was likely only because he had long since grown used to Edwin’s cheap shots. He had warned him, his finger jabbed into his face, before he marched out.

He glanced over at Charles, who still seemed to be focused on his papers. Fine, so Edwin would have to use his headphones tonight for his music. That was alright, he was used to that by now. He just hated when they came loose during his spins, no matter the type he chose.

Still, it was better than nothing.

He weaved around the ice, getting into the groove of things. Settling into Crystal’s rink was like coming home. Or sliding into a childhood hiding place. There was technically nothing special about it, the ice just the same as any other rink he’d ever skated on, and yet it was special. He went faster here, spun tighter, jumped higher, it was just… better.

Time slid by, the same way it always did once he started skating. Two hours could feel like two minutes, the only way to keep track was how many times he had restarted his routine.

Not that he was skating that tonight. He’d been far too distracted when he’d started to even try such a thing. Instead, he had settled into some of Coach King’s warmups, quickly followed by his endurance training plan.

That had been his first priority when he had taken over as Edwin’s coach. Edwin had endurance in spades, practically leaking out of him, but according to King it was “misused” and not as limitless as Edwin seemed to think.

Edwin had wanted to argue, but he’d known where he had stood when he sought him out for training.

Edwin sighed as he stretched out his back. His feet were bruised and aching, the added weight of his skates feeling like ten pounds each. His legs had moved past pain and into that numb, TV static sensation it got when he skated for too long, and his knee felt wobbly at best.

And that was to say nothing of his back. The pain there was sharp, so sharp it almost took his breath away every single time he bent down or leaned over. He tried to measure out his breathing, time it just right so that he could keep moving around and not have to stop just because his body didn’t want to listen to him.

Jumping was not recommended in this state, but how else was he supposed to practice? He was likely always going to have his problems, he couldn’t just stop practicing all because– what? He was in a little bit of pain?

It was just a Lutz. He could do those in his sleep. He’d literally done circles of them around Simon growing up, this wasn’t important. He could do a single one during practice now. He knew he could.

He moved so he was skating backwards, his left foot tilting slightly so he was skating on the outside edge. He dug his toe-pick into the ice and jumped. He could feel himself spin, faster than he had actually intended, but that was okay. He needed speed for this jump. This would work.

He landed on his right foot and his weak knee immediately buckled. There wasn’t even time for him to gasp as he hit the ice, the breath completely knocked out of him as he slammed onto his front. His head dropped down to the ice, almost immediately giving him a brain freeze as he laid there gasping.

It wasn’t the first time he’d ever fallen during that jump, Hell, it wasn’t even the first time he’d fallen that night, but he could feel his body give up after this one. There wasn’t going to be any more training after this, this was it for the night.

Or forever, if the way he couldn’t breathe was anything to go by.

“Edwin!” Charles’s voice broke through his pain and panic.

Edwin tried to roll over, just enough to look at Charles, but it was a poor attempt. He looked at his hands, scraped raw from trying to save himself on the ice.

Suddenly there was way more blood than scraped palms could justify. Enough blood to smear across the ice, to seemingly coat all of him.

They were going to be in so much trouble when she found out.

He blinked and suddenly he was back in Crystal’s rink, and the blood was gone. Well, not gone but it was back to the reasonable amount from scraping them on the ice.

Charles’s hands cradled his, gently turning them this way and that to inspect them. “Are you okay?” he asked. “Edwin.” He stressed.

Edwin jerked his hands back and looked up at Charles. Emotions shone across his face so deep and startling that he almost didn’t understand what they were at first.

“What?” he asked, not remembering the question.

“Oh God, you hit your head, huh?” Charles asked, once against leaning into his space. “Here, lemme see.”

Edwin leaned back in response. “I did not hit my head,” he said, ripping his earbuds out. “I simply didn’t hear you.”

Charles looked at him in disbelief. “Okay, so what’s the harm in me checking, then?” he asked. His hands reached forward and suddenly they weren’t Charles’s hands anymore; they were doctors and nurses and everyone else who had grabbed onto him against his will over the course of the last year or so.

“Stop,” Edwin said, putting as much heat and anger and authority as he could into a single word. “I did not hit my head. I know what a concussion feels like.”

Charles did not seem swayed, not even for a second. “You’re not exactly the authority if you do have a concussion,” he said. But at least his hands were back near his body rather than hovering towards Edwin where they didn’t belong. “We get checked all the time in hockey, let me just make sure you’re alright.”

“Charles! I’m fine!” he snapped and immediately regretted it once his head started to pound.

He really hadn’t hit his head, that much he was sure. But that didn’t stop the headache he could feel coming on, nor did it make getting up off the ice any easier.

“Here,” Charles said, holding out his hands again. “Let’s get you off the ice.”

Edwin eyed his scraped-up palms for a moment before pulling his shirt down over his hands to take Charles’s. At least this way there would be no blood on his hands.

“Alright, up you get, come on,” Charles said, a seemingly endless fountain of encouragement. Edwin wanted to tell him that it was fine, he didn’t need such words, but he couldn’t find the energy to do so. He doubted Charles would listen to him anyways.

Charles helped him off the ice, even though it wasn’t needed, and even walked him over to the bench. In one smooth motion he knocked his homework to the floor so Edwin could sit down.

In another life, that might have been such a romantic gesture. In this one it just made Edwin wince from all the noise and the thought of Charles having to reorganize that later.

“Here let me help,” Charles said, as if that wasn’t what Edwin was already doing. He squatted down in front of him, unlacing his skates, and Edwin couldn’t help but feel like this was familiar to him, even if he couldn’t remember why. No one had laced or unlaced his skates for him since he’d been a child.

“What time is it?” Edwin asked. He wanted to dig his phone out of his pocket, but it seemed like such a lost cause while he was sitting down.

“Sometime after one,” Charles answered. He had freed one of Edwin’s feet and started working on the other.

Edwin raised an eyebrow. “And you didn’t kick me out?” he asked.

A look of guilt slashed across Charles’s face, marring his rather handsome features. “You won the bet,” Charles said, his voice quiet.

It was obvious to Edwin that Charles was regretting making that bet now.

“Sorry,” Edwin said, his voice also quiet. He pressed his fists together, trying to bring back some semblance of the calm that skating always seemed to give him. He forgot about the scrapes on his hands until his nails pressed into them with a vengeance.

“Careful,” Charles said, eying his hands.

Edwin wondered what Charles thought of him in this moment. A washed-up figure skater who couldn’t even do a proper jump without icing himself. Who couldn’t even scrape his palms without thinking of another time, a time where there had been far too much blood and not enough air.

Charles freed his other foot and set about taking care of his skates. He seemed to know exactly where Edwin kept his things in his bag, and at least made an effort to take care of them like Edwin did.

Edwin hated to admit that it sent butterflies through him again to see him care for his skates with the respect they deserved. How fucking embarrassing that it took so little.

“Can you walk?” Charles asked and Edwin nearly growled at him. “I mean, can you walk home? Or do we need to figure out if there are any rides this late?”

There wouldn’t be, and even if there were, Edwin wouldn’t trust any of them.

“I’m fine,” Edwin said. “I can walk home.”

He reached for the handle to his bag, but Charles quickly moved it away. “I’ve got it,” he said. “Just give me two seconds to pack up.”

Edwin frowned. “It is a rolling bag,” he said. “I can take it.”

Charles ignored him as he scooped up his stuff and dropped it into his own bag. “Ready?”

Edwin tilted his head to one side, trying to puzzle Charles out. “What are you doing?” he finally asked.

Charles tilted his own head in return. “Whatcha mean?” he asked. “I’m walking you home.”

They stared at each other for a moment, neither one of them wanting to be the one to break the silence.

“Unless you want to go and get checked out,” Charles said, dragging out the sentence in a way that was almost comical.

Except nothing about this situation was comical. Edwin was tired— exhausted really, and the aches and pains of his body were finally starting to catch up with him.

And now Charles wanted to— what? Walk him home? Like they were in some teen drama? Or one of those romances Crystal claimed she didn’t enjoy, though Edwin knew she watched when no one else was around.

“I’m perfectly capable of walking myself home,” Edwin said. He was a grown adult; he could walk himself home. What did Charles think his presence was going to offer?

“C’mon, mate,” Charles said. “If you’re not going to get that head checked out at least let me do this.”

He was… worried? Actually worried.

Edwin sighed as he folded his arms in front of himself. “Fine, if you insist,” he said.

A smile so brilliant and blinding Edwin had to look away from it spread across Charles’s face. “Aces! Lead the way then!”

Edwin couldn’t help but feel like he’d made a mistake.

Chapter 9: Why Can't I Breathe Whenever I Think About You? Why Can't I Speak Whenever I Talk About You?

Notes:

Get a load of me, get a load of you
walking down the street and I hardly know you,
It's just like we were meant to be
holding hands with you when we're out at night,
[...]
what if this is just the beginning?
Why Can't I? by Liz Phair

It was a small mercy that Edwin didn’t actually live too far from Crystal’s rink or the campus. Just a handful of blocks away, and they had gone from campus-style living to one of the nicest neighborhoods in the area. Pristine green spaces, nice cars, and well-maintained sidewalks seemed to be the norm here, with most of the townhouses looking eerily similar. The only real difference were the twinkling lights that dangled from some balconies, while lush looking tiny gardens flowed from others, filling the late summer air with the sweet scent of flowers.

Charles inhaled, taking it all in. It reminded him of his mum back home and all the plants she would try to grow. She wasn’t half bad at it, all things considered, but his dad hated all the space they took up and usually got rid of them before they fully bloomed.

He wondered if she would try and grow any while he was gone. His dad always did seem more… lenient, when Charles was away.

He shook the idea from his head. The last thing he needed to be focusing on right now was his dad. Not when he was still upset, and so unsure how to feel about the person walking two feet next to him.

Well, walking was a generous term, Charles supposed. Charles walked and Edwin sort of limped along next to him, just enough distance between them that it was almost questionable if they were even walking together. His limping was harder to notice if someone wasn’t as familiar with Edwin’s movements as Charles was, but Charles had seen Edwin glide like he was floating. The way he was visibly stomping and dragging his feet might as well have been night and day compared to how he normally moved.

Neither one of them spoke as they trudged through the neighborhood. Occasionally, Charles could see Edwin tilt his head towards him, as if he were going to say something, but he always stopped himself.

Charles wished he wouldn’t. He wished he would just say whatever it was he wanted to so they could get it out in the open. All of this back-and-forth silent treatment was stupid, and it made him far more nervous than he cared to admit.

He hated feeling like he was walking on eggshells, like he was back home trying not to piss off his dad. Except Edwin wouldn’t swing out like his dad would. Instead, he would mock him behind his back with all of his rich friends, just like his dad had said they would when he told him he was going to school.

Charles would be lying if he said he wasn’t still a bit hurt by Edwin’s comments, but one glance at Edwin’s stuttering walk told him it didn’t matter. Despite the anger or hurt he might have felt in that moment, he still wanted to make sure he got home safely.

Maybe it was because he didn’t want to disappoint Crystal or maybe it was because there was just something so… irritatingly interesting about Edwin, even when he made him what to pull his hair out.

Either way, there would be time for him to be angry with him later. Preferably, when he wasn’t having to watch him struggle to get home. Or maybe he’d get over it, ignore the insult until it didn’t hurt anymore, and they’d just move past it.

He could already hear Niko’s voice in his head telling him that wasn’t a healthy way to deal with things, but he didn’t care. Niko wasn’t here, and Edwin hadn’t called her stupid anyways, so what would she know about any of this?

Nothing, of course. Because he hadn’t told her. It was too embarrassing on so many levels. To have someone like Edwin joke about him being stupid, to be upset about it when he barely even knew Edwin, to have to admit that before that he’d actually been enjoying Edwin’s assistance with his homework, even if all he’d managed to do was read it to him.

No, better to just pretend like it never happened. It’s not like Edwin would care either way.

“S’nice neighborhood,” Charles finally said, cracking the silence after he felt like it might crack him. He’d been spending too much time with his own thoughts lately.

Edwin seemed genuinely startled by his words. “Hm?” he asked, looking around. “Oh, yes. It is. It is very pleasant during my morning runs. Quiet.”

“You run in the morning?” Charles asked. He wondered what counted as ‘morning’ for Edwin. There were times he didn’t even leave the rink until one in the morning, surely he wasn’t running after practices like those.

“Mmhmm,” Edwin said. “It helps me think. Or not to think.”

“Sounds fun,” Charles said, although he wasn’t sure it did. He’d done plenty of running back home when he couldn’t practice on the ice. It had never been the more enjoyable thing, but it certainly kept him in shape.

“It is,” Edwin said. He glanced at Charles from the corner of his eye. “You could come with me sometime, if you would like.”

He didn’t answer. Charles kicked at a rock in his path and watched as it bounced away, disappearing into one of the nearby lawns. Edwin’s bag rolled along, occasionally bumping over this or that as they went.

God, Edwin was lucky the sidewalks were nice here, otherwise his bag would be hell to pull around.

“We’re here,” Edwin said, as if Charles had walked him up to the gallows rather than his front door.

Charles glanced around, trying to see exactly where Edwin lived. He hadn’t had much of a chance the other night after the arcade, both of them exhausted from the day and in a hurry to get home.

Still, it had been rather nice that night. Much nicer than this one, at least. Edwin next to him, occasionally filling the silence with answers to Charles’s questions. Yes, I have been to an arcade before tonight. No, I do not have an air hockey table at home that I practice on. Yes, I do believe that you would have one if you didn’t live in the dorms. No, I don’t think you could convince them that it would be a dorm essential.

Funny how things could change in such a short amount of time.

Edwin’s place was just as nice and fancy as he had thought it would be. A two-story townhouse with a small but nice stoop and porch led up to his front door. Another townhouse shared a wall with him, an almost perfect mirror image of someone else’s living space reflected again and again down the street.

It looked expensive. Hell, being this nice and this close to campus, it likely was extremely expensive. The perfect place for someone like Edwin Payne to live.

He tilted his head up and gave a low whistle as he sized it up. “This place is big,” he said. Then again, any place seemed big after his dorm or his parents’ basement room.

Edwin leaned against the low railing that led up to his front steps, looking up as if he were trying to see what Charles was seeing. Charles expected some snarky answer, a cutting remark that would have them back arguing again, but none came.

“It is my father’s,” Edwin said. “We used to stay here when I was young.”

There was something about how he said that that made Charles want to ask questions. Then again, he always wanted to ask Edwin questions.

It also gave Charles the impression that he wasn’t supposed to ask him questions.

Charles rolled his bag towards him, leaning the handle out for him to take. “Well, it’s nice,” he said. Of course it was nice. Everything in this neighborhood was nice.

Edwin nodded and gave a noncommittal sounding hmm. Gingerly, he took the handle and started to pull the bag up the steps.

Charles knew Edwin was strong enough to pull his own bag up the stairs. He must do it every night when he got home. Plus, those arms likely weren’t just for decoration. Yet Charles couldn’t help but feel the twinge of sympathy as Edwin struggled to get the heavy bag up the stairs.

“I got it, mate,” Charles said and moved over. “Just get the door.”

Edwin looked like he might protest for a moment, but Charles had already grabbed the bag and picked it up.

It took him a couple of tries before he opened the door, but once he did, he held it open for Charles to go through, flipping on the light as he did so.

The entryway was rather narrow, a set of stairs next to the door leading up to the second floor, and multiple doors branching off down the hallway. He could see what looked like a living room down the hall, with a warm lamp lighting the place up in a rather cozy looking yellow.

He set the bag down, unsure where Edwin would even want it, and tried not to look too much like he was checking the place out. He hadn’t given much thought to what the inside of Edwin’s place might look like, but now that he was there, he couldn’t help but glance around.

The place must have been furnished by some sort of interior designer or Edwin’s mother. It was too clean, too matching for a teenage boy, even one as picky as Edwin, to have picked out. He wondered if these were the same decorations Edwin’s family had used for years, or if they had changed everything out when he’d moved in.

Edwin grabbed the handle and hissed, his raw hands obviously sore. “You should clean those,” Charles said. He should have made Edwin do it at the rink, but all he had wanted to do was get the two of them out of there at the time.

“Right,” Edwin said, pulling his hands closer to his chest for inspection. “Thank you for the help.”

Charles gave a sort of noncommittal ‘hmm,’ in answer, almost perfectly matching Edwin’s from earlier. What was he supposed to do? Leave him to fend for himself? Edwin seemed convinced that he hadn’t smashed his head on the ice, but Charles hadn’t been so sure after seeing that glazed look on his face.

Now he was a little more certain, but it still felt wrong to just leave him there. Then again, he’d done more than was expected of him, more than what Edwin had even wanted him to do. He should just turn and go.

Edwin took a few steps down the hall before pausing. “I am sorry,” Edwin said.

Charles froze. Slowly, he turned around to see Edwin standing in the doorway to what must be the bathroom, wringing his still bloodied hands. Nervousness rolled off him in waves so strong Charles could feel the energy even from his place by the front door.

“For what?” Charles asked. Because he was still feeling hurt, still wanted to make him work for it. Let Edwin tell him exactly why he was sorry.

Edwin pressed his lips together so hard they disappeared into a thin line. “For what was said. I was not the one to say it originally, but I should have been more firm in my protests against it,” he said. He inhaled before stepping away from the door to stand just a bit closer to Charles. “For what it is worth, not that I imagine it is worth much, I do think you are smart. I have seen the work you do for classes at the rink. That is not the work of someone who is unintelligent.”

Charles stared at him as his words sank in. Part of him felt stupid for even being so hurt by the comment in the first place– after all, it’s not the first time someone had ever implied that he was stupid or couldn’t read or any other number of things about his intelligence. Why should it matter if Edwin did?

The other part of him was all too familiar with how someone like Simon or Edwin might look at him. He’d been a loud, hyper kid all throughout school, which had earned him no favors there or at home. The boarding school he’d attended, while very nice and privileged, had made it very clear that they thought he was stupid and lazy– and frankly too brown to go to their school, all facts his dad had loved to throw in his face when he got especially angry with him.

Maybe he was just being ‘too sensitive,’ but he didn’t care.

“Thanks, mate,” he said and turned to leave.

“Charles!” Edwin called out, which forced Charles to turn back around.

“I do mean it,” he said. “And I’m sorry. It will not happen again.”

There was no way Edwin could make a promise like that. He didn’t control what Simon did or said. There was no way to know if that prick was ever going to insult Charles again.

Yet listening to Edwin, he could almost believe him. Maybe Edwin couldn’t stop him from insulting him, but he did believe that Edwin at least wouldn’t be taking part in it as well.

It shouldn’t have made him happy. So, Edwin wasn’t going to directly call him stupid, did that deserve some kind of party? Might as well throw a parade just because he didn’t think he was an idiot.

But seeing a tired, strung-out looking Edwin with scraped palms and damp clothes did a lot to tug at Charles’s heart strings.

“‘Precciate it,” he said. And this time Edwin let him leave.

It felt lonelier walking home without him.

XXX

The next day Charles made a concentrated effort to get to the rink early. Niko’s class would be wrapping up shortly after he got there, which would mean Mick– who Charles still had somehow failed to meet– would be cleaning the ice and leaving it in perfect condition for him to skate on before Edwin got there.

Provided everything went according to plan. Which it so rarely did.

“Charles!” Emma squealed and bolted away from Niko’s class, despite Niko’s calls for her to come back.

Charles grinned and raced to the boards to meet her. “Hey!” he said and gave her a high-five. “How’s it going? Still working on those things Edwin taught you?”

She nodded, her blonde curls bouncing. “Yeah! Miss Niko said I was getting good, even better than you at my age.”

Charles grinned. Niko hadn’t even known him at her age, but there was no need to tell her that. She likely was better than him at her age. “I bet you are. I saw how fast you ran over here, whoosh nearly disappeared!”

“Yeah!” she said. She looked behind him, studying his equipment bag. “Do you have hockey stuff in there? Can I see?”

Charles glanced up at Niko, who seemed to be trying to set his hair on fire from a distance with her eyes alone. “Uh, maybe some other time? I’ve gotta change and get ready for practice.”

“You’re gonna practice!?” she screeched, nearly piercing his eardrums.

“Yeah, I- uh, I am,” he said. “Maybe your parents will let you stay one day. But I think Niko’s waiting on you.”

The two of them looked at Niko, who stood with her hands on her hips watching them. Emma sighed and turned back to Charles, leaning around him like he might be hiding something. “Where’s Edwin?”

Charles’s throat caught briefly, picturing Edwin standing in his hallway, apologizing. Or him spread out on the ice, that faint disconnected look on his face as he stared at his bloody palms. “Not here today, sorry,” he said.

Emma pouted and crossed her arms. “Becky really wanted to talk to him,” she said, and Charles had a feeling Becky wasn’t the only one. “Tell him he has to come back again soon.”

Charles nodded and agreed to tell him even though he had no authority whatsoever on whether or not Edwin came around. At least Emma was still smiling when she went back over to rejoin the class.

He turned to go to the locker room and change when Jenny appeared from the kitchen.

“You,” Jenny said, pointing at Charles from across the way.

“Me?” he asked.

“You,” Jenny said, and then pointed to where her feet were, as if summoning him.

He smiled as he walked over, trying his best to figure out what was wrong before he even reached her. Had they done something wrong when closing up? He’d checked the doors, the appliances in the kitchen, everything. He knew he had.

“What’s up?” he asked.

She raised a rather pointy eyebrow at him, her dark makeup only making her look more intimidating. “Am I a joke to you?” she asked.

Charles tried to keep smiling, even though he was less sure now.

“No?” he answered, even though he felt as though this were a trick question.

“Oh, so you’re not using my fridge as a graveyard for uneaten shitty food?” she asked, bringing a box around from where it had been hidden behind her back.

It was Edwin’s food. That Charles had forgotten to give him because he’d managed to ice himself last night.

“Oops,” he said rather sheepishly. “Sorry, I forgot that was in there.”

She dropped the box into his waiting hands. “What’s the point in bringing food if you’re not going to eat it? Waste of a meal plan, if you ask me.”

“It was Edwin’s,” Charles said. “I just forgot to give it to him after he…” He trailed off, unsure how to continue that sentence. It wasn’t any of Jenny’s business what had happened between them, and it wasn’t his business why Edwin had reacted to scraping his palms that way.

He’d forgotten all about the meal stashed away after seeing that terrified look in his eyes. He had held off on giving it to him, instead wanting to make him wait until the end of practice and then give it to him as a sort of “make nice” gesture, even if he didn’t think he needed to, but all of those plans had gone out the window the second Edwin had hit the ice and stopped moving.

Jenny’s eyes narrowed. “What?” she asked. “He what?”

Charles had never had an older sister, which he was secretly thankful for. He couldn’t imagine wishing his dad on anyone else, not even his worst enemy, but he’d seen a lot of them over the years. And suddenly he wasn’t standing in front of a grumpy goth woman, he was standing in front of an older sister defending her little brother.

“Nothing,” Charles said, but it even sounded like a lie to his own ears.

“He piss you off? Yeah, he does that,” she said, crossing her arms. There was a challenge there, as if she were daring him to agree or argue with her.

“What? No,” Charles said, holding his hand up in defense. “I just forgot to give it to him.”

She narrowed her eyes at him again, clearly looking for some answer that Charles didn’t know how to give her.

“Don’t leave shit in my fridge again,” she said finally and turned and walked away.

Charles paused as he watched her go. Who was next? Was Crystal going to appear from nowhere and ask him about Edwin? What was with everyone today, it’s not like he was his handler.

He dumped the box in the trash and hitched his bag up higher. At least no one would ask him once he started practicing.

XXX

It would seem he had been half right about that. No one was going to ask him about Edwin, because Edwin himself instead chose to make an appearance.

Charles looked up from where he was batting his puck back and forth, back and forth, and was surprised to see him sitting on one of the benches. Watching him. Even from a distance he could feel those clever eyes tracking him, watching his every move.

Strangely, it wasn’t as uncomfortable as Charles assumed it would be.

He debated to himself for a moment. Should he continue his practice? Pretend he hadn’t even noticed Edwin there? It seemed pointless, when he didn’t even know how long he’d already been there. There was every chance that Edwin would just sit there until he was finished anyway if he wanted to use the ice after him.

He at least needed to know why he was there. If Charles was still practicing when Edwin got there, he would usually spend his time in the gym getting ready.

He sighed and sent the puck heading towards the goal, uncaring if it even made it in. He could tell by the way Edwin’s eyes tracked it with a small smile appearing at the end that he must have scored.

“‘S’up?” he asked once he was close enough. He didn’t want to piss Jenny off any more than she already was by yelling across the rink.

Edwin stood, so graceful and smooth as if he had rehearsed it. Maybe he had. He’d probably had plenty of time to do so before Charles had realized he was there.

He held out a bag that Charles vaguely recognized as one of the restaurants near campus. It was known for being expensive, but delicious, healthy, and well worth it if you could afford it. Some of the more well-off student athletes liked to brag about eating there, but so far over the years Charles had never had a chance to.

Until now, apparently.

“I did not know what you would like,” Edwin said. “But according to Niko you will ‘eat anything,’ because you are a bottomless pit. And she asked me to tell you to ‘stop stealing her ramen, she knows it’s you.’”

He smiled at Edwin’s Niko impression. It wasn’t far off, despite his obvious limited contact with her. “How’s she know it’s me?” he joked. “She’s got a roommate. Could be her.”

Edwin smiled. “I suggested something similar, and she assured me it wasn’t.”

Something bubbled in Charles’s chest at that. Edwin had talked to Niko. About him. Edwin had defended him, even jokingly, to her.

It was stupidly easy for Edwin to win him over, Charles was learning.

“Shoulda stole her coffee,” Charles said. “She really woulda hated that.”

“I will pretend I did not hear that in case it goes missing,” he said.

Charles took the bag from Edwin. It felt warm and heavy, and Charles’s stomach growled. He hadn’t even realized how hungry he’d gotten practicing.

“Thank you,” he said. “You didn’t have to do this.”

Edwin sniffed and straightened his back. “You brought me dinner. Twice now, if Jenny is to be believed. It seemed only fair that I do the same for you.”

Charles didn’t even know how to explain that this wasn’t a tit for tat thing, that Edwin didn’t have to pay him back just because he brought him dinner from campus. Especially not with a meal that was sure to cost double if not triple what his had.

“It’s really not,” Charles said, and Edwin frowned.

“Oh,” he said. “Right. Well, I just wanted to extend my apologies again and give you that.”

He started to turn away and Charles’s hand darted out and just barely caught his sleeve. “Wait! I just meant that you didn’t have to pay me back. I forgave you already,” he said. “Nothing to forgive, anyways, not really.”

Edwin’s brow furrowed as he stared at Charles. “Oh,” he said, although it was obvious he still didn’t believe Charles.

“D’you wanna split this?” Charles asked, holding up the bag. “I was just about done anyways.”

Edwin’s eyes trailed over him, and Charles couldn’t help the shiver that went through him as he looked him over. “I suppose,” he said. “If you really were about to finish.”

There was no way Charles could keep practicing when he was this hungry or with Edwin’s eyes watching him. He wondered if this was what it felt like for Edwin to skate when Charles was watching.

He had to give him way more credit if it was.

“Yeah, mate,” Charles said. “Let’s eat.”

Edwin smiled as he led them back to the benches. He’d never thought he’d actually enjoy sitting on old, hard benches eating takeaway with someone.

And it certainly wasn’t how he expected to spend every night that week after that, but Charles could adapt. He could go with the flow. And surprisingly, it seemed Edwin could too.

Splitting takeaway meals or to-go boxes from the cafeteria became the norm after that. Charles’s practice would wrap up and he’d shower, and by the time he had finished Edwin would be there, running his routine over and over and over until they grew hungry and dug into whatever meal they’d decided to bring to share.

There were no more complaints from Jenny about the fridge, although he did notice that a shelf had been cleared for them to keep their stuff in there while they practiced. He wondered if Jenny had done that on her own or if Edwin had mentioned it.

Neither one of them mentioned the fact that Edwin hadn’t used up all of his ‘practice all night’ nights, nor did they bring up Edwin helping him with his homework again. But if Charles caught Edwin reading over what he’d written while they ate one night and nodding along like he approved, or if Charles let him stay a bit later than he normally would, well, who was going to call them on it?

They certainly weren’t.

XXX

Before he realized it, August and September had crept by, everything sort of blending together until Charles hardly knew what day it was. The nights were for practicing, dinners with Edwin, homework, and the occasional late night/early morning phone call with his mum after his dad was either asleep or gone for work.

Days were for class, studying, hanging out with Niko, and video games in his dorm with Brad and Hunter. Occasionally, they’d invite the rest of the hockey guys over or they’d go out for lunch, all of them getting together just to ignore the impending sense of doom that came with their first game.

For any other team– hell, even them just last year– it might be a time of excitement, anticipation, or even nervousness. This year there was only dread.

First game of the season. The first game with their new coach. The first time they would get to see how well all of her coaching had paid off. The amount of anxious energy running through the rink alone could power a small city.

Everyone had their own way of dealing with it. Coach Nurse had started running harder and harder drills, their center, McElroy, had nearly chewed through his mouth guard, and one of their goalies, Oliver, had somehow managed to break more sticks in practice than Charles had seen in his life.

Needless to say, it was not exactly a fun time to be a player.

“Everybody line up!” Coach Nurse commanded, her whistle and clipboard firmly attached to her hands as she waited for them to get in line.

“You all will be split into two teams for practice today for a scrimmage. And I don’t want to hear any complaining about the team breakdowns, this is just for today,” she said and promptly started to break them up.

Charles couldn’t help the cheer he let out once he realized his team had a distinct advantage over the other. Charles was fast, Hunter was rough, and Oliver almost never let a puck go by him. Even McElroy was a better center and captain than Richards.

Brad scowled from his place on the other team.

Hunter high-fived Charles as they separated out into teams. “Hell yeah, that’s what I’m talking about!” he said. “We’re gonna fuck ‘em up!”

Charles grinned and elbowed him. “Luck of the draw is really working in our favor,” he said.

Brad glared from across the line. “Oh, laugh it up you dicks,” he said. “But when me and a buncha freshies kick your ass you’re gonna regret it.”

Charles rolled his eyes good naturedly. “Yeah, yeah, whatever keeps you from crying about losing.”

Brad’s face turned red, but he didn’t say anything else. Foster, their other goalie, walked by and clapped him on the shoulder. “Let’s go!” He said, clearly trying to get his team hyped.

“Good luck,” Hunter said, dragging it out into a song. He turned back to Charles with a smile. “They’re gonna need it.”

He wasn’t wrong. It might have been down to luck, but their team really had come out better. Anyone with half a brain could see that.

They lined up, sticks at the ready. He could feel the energy starting to surge through his limbs, that sense of adrenaline that got his pulse pounding, his heart racing. It was moments like that that reminded him why he played and loved this game, and they hadn’t even started yet.

“C’mon,” Brad said from across the line, just barely loud enough for Charles to hear from where he was. “They’re a bunch of pussies.”

He rolled his eyes. Brad loved to shit talk; this was a well-known fact that often got him in trouble during their games.

“Real nice shit talking your own team,” McElroy said.

It was hard to tell, but Charles knew Brad was smiling.

“Not on my team, Mack, or did you forget?” he asked.

The puck dropped and Mack was quick to snatch it. In hardly no time at all they had scored, flying past Brad, Foster, and the rest of the team in a blink of an eye.

“Ohh, what’s good Fossy,” Charles teased as he skated by him, which earned him a finger in retaliation.

“Get bent, Charlie boy,” Foster said.

“Didn’t you hear? He already is,” Brad called out, checking Charles.

“What?” he asked.

Before Brad could answer, Coach Nurse blew the whistle, and everyone lined back up again.

“No more bullshit,” Brad said. “What’re ya, a bunch a fucking figure skaters? Afraid to get hurt? C’mon, better look alive.”

Hunter couldn’t help the snort he let out, despite not being on his team, while Charles glared at him.

A few moments later they were going again. Brad tried to pin him, tried to keep him away from the puck, but Charles was quicker and darted around him. He hit the puck, passing it over to Hunter, who quickly ran away with it.

“Fuck!” Brad yelled once it got near their goal again. Charles laughed as he went by, which seemed to piss Brad off even more.

“Hunter, more like Cunter,” Brad said.

“S’not even creative,” Charles said. “I’ve heard better chirps from pigeons.”

Richards laughed which pissed Brad off even more. It was bad when your own captain was laughing at you.

“Oh, now you wanna say something?” Brad asked. “Why don’t you just go back–”

“Shut it, B,” Mack said. “One more word and I’ll knock your ass out.”

Brad at least had the decency to shut his mouth after that. Charles wasn’t entirely certain what the next words out of his mouth were going to be, but he could make an educated guess.

“Sorry, Chucky,” Brad said.

Hunter knocked his shoulder against his. Charles looked at him and Hunter smiled, obviously trying to reassure him, or telling him to let it go.

Charles did. He gritted his teeth and shrugged it off.

Another play started and Charles moved, faster than everyone else. He didn’t care what happened now as long as his team won. Let Brad run his mouth all he wanted, there would be nothing accurate he could say if Charles’s team came out on top.

Charles whipped around, his stick slamming into the puck and clipping the edge of the ice hard enough to spray up. It was more force than necessary, strictly speaking, but he wanted it to count. It had to go in, it had to score.

The fact that it went flying past Brad just made it even better.

The puck soared past Fossy, and Coach Nurse blew her whistle. Before Charles could even think about celebrating something tackled him in the back and knocked him to the ice.

He whirled around, ripping his helmet off. Brad pushed himself up off the ice, doing the same. Before Charles could even take his gloves off Brad was there, gripping his jersey and shaking him.

Charles was used to this. He dropped his gloves and grabbed onto Brad’s jersey and swung using his own momentum to let him carry through with the hit.

His knuckles collided with Brad’s cheek, leaving him staggering. His fingers loosened, just enough for Charles to break free, which Charles did.

He stepped back, readying his fists. The fight should be over now that he’d landed his hit, but Brad was stubborn like that.

“Rowland! Thompson!” Coach Nurse yelled. Charles could see she was getting close, but he refused to take his eyes off of Brad.

“Dude, chill,” Hunter said. His earlier amusement and annoyance were gone, instead replaced with what sounded like confusion. But Charles refused to glance at him to see if he wore a matching expression or not.

“Whatcha gonna do?” Charles asked. “Sneak attack me again? Ohh, big man taking a shot at me behind my back.”

“You started it,” Brad said.

“Me? Nah, mate, you’ve been fucking chirpin’ all game,” he said. Smarting off about Hunter, taking shots at Edwin, telling Charles ‘go back’. “Dunno what crawled up your ass and died, but it’s s’not my problem.”

“Nothing up my ass, but I bet you know all about that, huh?” Brad asked, sneering.

Charles flew at him, intending to take another shot before Brad could even move. They collided, their pads doing nothing to soften the blow as they ended up back on the ice.

He clenched his fist, intending to bring it down, hard and fast and smash his face in.

Brad was quicker.

His stick popped up before Charles could even react, crushing into Charles’s nose with a force so blinding he saw stars. Blood rushed down, coating his lips as he fell sideways.

He raised his hands, intending to stifle the flow before it could spread much further before jerking back in pain. That shit hurt.

By the time Charles’s vision had cleared and refocused several other teammates had grabbed Brad and were looking towards Coach like criminals awaiting the gallows.

Fury ran deep in her expression, so nerve meltingly still that it burned like lava, slow and destructive.

“What the hell is wrong with you two?!” She shrieked, her immaculately placed hair finally denting. She glanced back and forth between the two of them, waiting for an answer.

Brad knew better than to do so, and Charles still felt like his face was falling apart.

“You two are teammates.” She looked to everyone else to make sure they were hearing her. “And all of you are mature adults who know better than to throw a tantrum on my ice!” She moved back and forth, between them, and Charles hated how she looked down at him, hated to see the disappointment in her eyes.

That hadn’t been what he was trying to do! He’d been defending himself!

“Do you know the consequences for fighting like that on the ice?” she asked, although she didn’t even wait for an answer. “You could get ejected from the game! And suspended, depending on how severe the fight was. Is that what you want? To not be able to play?” Charles could feel her eyes drilling into him. “To let your team down?” Her eyes turned to Brad. “There’s a time and place for a fight and this is not one of them.”

“I don’t care if you're friends. I don’t even care if you hate each other. On the ice you’re teammates, even during scrimmages like this. There will be no more of this type of behavior on this team, or you will not be on this team,” she said.

No one moved. It was rare for an ice rink full of hockey players to be quiet, but no one so much as whispered at her words. He tried to catch Hunter’s eye, but he was steadily looking down at the ice still.

Coach Nurse jerked Brad’s stick from his hands and leveled it at him. “You swing another stick like that and you’re out of here.” She paused for a moment. “Understood?”

Brad jumped. “Yes ma’am,” he mumbled.

It seemed like she was debating if she wanted to call him on the mumble for a moment before she let it go.

“Rowland!” She barked. Charles actually did jump and hissed when his nose ached. “Follow me. We’ll get that looked at.”

Charles sighed and took his gloves from Oliver, who must have picked them up after the fight. At least he wasn’t going to have to run drills after the game this way.

“Everyone else, back to work,” Coach called with a snap of her fingers, leaving them with the assistant coaches. The sound of blades on ice cracked the air as she turned to him. “Stop bleeding all over my ice, Rowland, do you want the Finch boy to have to scrub your blood off?”

Charles groaned as he followed after her. He could already sense that this was going to be a long conversation, and one he was definitely not looking forward to.

Just before he left the ice, he managed to catch Olly’s eye, who could only shrug in response. It seemed not even their goalie knew what the fuck had happened out there.

Charles was sure this wasn’t going to come back and bite him in the ass later.

Notes:

Sorry this one is late. This chapter fought me in every Denny's parking lot in a hundred mile radius. It got so big at one point that I had to split it in half, and somehow it still came out over 6k. So, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, even though it made me want to chuck myself into the lake lol

Chapter 10: Did You Say, "Please, just follow me"? I Thought You Wanted Me

Summary:

"I'm losing, and this is my real life
I'm half asleep, and I am wide awake,
This habit is always so hard to break
I don't wanna be the bad guy
I've been blaming myself, and I think you know why
[...]
Did you say, "Please just follow me"? I thought you wanted me,
'Cause I want you all to myself,"
All To Myself by Marianas Trench

Niko winced in sympathy as she passed along some ice from her tray. Charles hoped that she had enough time to make more before she brewed her coffee in the morning. A college-tired Niko without coffee was a sight to behold. “How does that even happen?”

Charles groaned as he wrapped the ice in a towel Niko handed him. “Stick to the face,” he said. “After the whistle.”

“Who would do that?” she asked. She offered him a seat on her bed while she sat in her desk chair. Gratefully, he collapsed, debating if he should set an alarm, just in case. What he wouldn’t give to be able to take a nap for a while.

Coach Nurse had cleared him; he didn’t have a concussion. He could sleep here if he wanted to, although it probably wasn’t the brightest idea.

“Brad,” Charles said, his voice strange and stuffy.

“Did he at least get in trouble?” He could hear her moving around, scooting things here and there on her desk. Was that the click of her makeup case or a bottle of nail polish? “And did you get checked out?”

Charles rolled his eyes. “Sorta. And yes, I did. Good ol’ Nursie checked me out.” He tried to wag his eyebrows at her, but he’d lost track of where exactly she was, and he was fairly certain his eye was swollen too, making the action rather difficult.

“Oh, she checked you out, huh?”

Charles tried to spread his arms out, but knocked into her wall, which was much closer than he had thought it was. A couple of pictures fluttered down, which Charles scrambled to save before they fell behind her bed.“‘Course she did. Look at me? Irresistible, aren’t I?”

“Hmmm,” Niko said, her tone utterly unconvinced. “Maybe. But I think she’s been making eyes at that Philosophy teacher. The one that makes you call him by his first name, Kashi? Or something like that.”

He leaned up. “Since when do you have time to be gossiping about my Coach’s love life?” he asked. “Where’d you even hear that?”

Niko smiled and gave him a set of little hearts with her thumb and forefinger. It must have been a nail polish bottle he’d heard, because her fingernails were now a pale, almost faded purple. “I have my sources. Like how I know a certain someone has been studying with a certain someone else.”

Charles actually did roll his eyes this time, although he immediately regretted the action. “If you’re talking about me and Edwin, then yeah. We’ve been studying some,” he said. He’d avoided mentioning their fallout and reconnection the other night, not wanting to drag Niko or Crystal into an issue that didn’t involve them, but he figured since they were good again there was no problem.

“Oh, no. I meant him and this cute brown-haired guy,” she said. She scrunched up her nose as she leaned closer to Charles. “Why did you think I was talking about you?”

Charles flushed. “Just because,” he said, and then fully sat up. “Wait, Edwin’s been studying with someone?” he asked. He had the impression that Edwin didn’t really talk to anyone else on campus, aside from Simon, and Niko already knew him.

A small, mischievous smile came across her face. “He has! Does that bother you?”

No, why would it? Edwin could study with whoever he wanted. He and Edwin weren’t even really “study buddies” or whatever it was Niko liked to call it. They were just two guys who happened to do homework at the same time at the rink while eating dinner. Or while one of them practiced. Or–

Okay, so they were study buddies. In a way. But Edwin was allowed to have other people he hung out or studied with. Charles certainly did.

Though at this moment, with his nose feeling the way it did he was hard pressed to count Brad as “people.”

“No,” Charles said, unconvincingly. It was something about his tone, he was sure, but he couldn’t seem to get it right lately. Maybe he wasn’t as charming as he thought he was.

“Interesting,” Niko said and tapped her phone screen. “Oh, shoot! I told Crystal I would meet up with her in, like, thirty minutes.”

Charles frowned. “Are you kicking me out?” he asked.

Niko pushed her chair back from the desk and shifted from foot to foot. “No? Well, yes, technically. I don’t want Hope to come in and you be here alone. And I don’t trust you with my snacks.”

Right, because Niko was a kind and considerate roommate. How unfortunate for him.

“Fine, yeah, Edwin delivered your warning,” he said, which made Niko smile. “I needed to get going soon anyways. It’s my night to bring dinner, and I still need to stop by the caf.”

Niko smiled at him. “Getting dinner for Edwin?” she asked in a singsong voice. “What a gentleman.”

He waved her away. It really wasn’t like that. Both of them had to eat, and they might as well eat together. Plus, this meant that half of the week he got to eat whatever rich shit Edwin wanted to buy that was likely a million times healthier and better tasting than anything the caf could cook up. That was just good business in Charles’s mind.

“Yeah, yeah. What’re you and Crystal doing?” he asked. “I didn’t know you were hanging out tonight.”

Niko shrugged, as if it wasn’t a big deal. “We’re going to see a movie,” she said, and that dopey little grin on her face told Charles all he needed to know.

He’d never actually seen Niko when she was in love. Or thought she was in love or had a crush or anything like that. Usually, she was the one giving him all the advice and eye rolls and squeals over some new person he was obsessed with until the new wore off and they realized there wasn’t much more beyond initial attraction.

It felt weird to be on the other side. A good kind of weird, he decided, but it would certainly take some getting used to.

“Niko,” he said, singing her own name back to her. “Is there a reason you didn’t tell me you and Crystal were hanging out tonight?”

Niko turned to him. “I don’t know. Is there a reason you seemed jealous about Edwin studying with someone else?”

Touche. She really got him there.

He smiled and handed her back her ice and towel. “Gotta go,” he said.

“You can’t escape me, Charles, I know where you sleep,” she called out as he took off.

XXX

Everyone else had gone home by the time Charles arrived at the rink. Everyone except for Edwin, of course.

He’d sort of been hoping to catch Crystal before she left for the day to see how exactly she was reacting to hanging out with Niko later, but the lines at the caf had been too long and left him scrambling to get to the rink around his usual time.

The music was already playing overhead, Edwin’s routine repeating for what was probably the millionth time that day already. It stopped as he walked up, Edwin likely registering the sound of his approach.

Charles smiled at him and watched as Edwin’s own, rare smile slid off his face.

Edwin was a statue, frozen at the end of his routine as he stared at Charles in horror. Charles’s heart caught in his throat, concerned that something must have happened on the ice before Edwin bolted over to him, his skates cutting through the ice and leaving him standing in front of him in seconds.

“Charles–” he said, his voice breathy and cut off. He didn’t even sound like he was tired from his routine, he sounded… Afraid? Unsettled? Something that Edwin should never sound, had never really sounded before now.

“Edwin?” he asked and raised his arms up to try and catch him as he reached the edge of the ice where he stood. It was pointless, Edwin could spin and stop on a dime, Charles didn’t need to catch him, ever, but he did it anyway.

“What happened?” Edwin asked, his voice losing its fear and edging into mania. “Are you alright?”

Charles blinked. This was… about him?

Edwin’s hand came up and gently, barely even touching him, hovered over his black eye and busted nose.

“Oh!” he said. A light bulb went off inside his head as he realized what Edwin was seeing. “This?” he asked, motioning to his face.

Edwin’s eyes were still wide, but he nodded.

“Just a bit of a rough play,” Charles said. Edwin’s expression didn’t change. “You know? Rouging? Fisticuffs?” He gently used his fists to tap against Edwin’s chest. “Fighting?”

Edwin blinked, looking down at Charles’s bruised knuckles. “I’m sorry,” he said. “You got this playing hockey?”

Charles grinned, nodding his head. “Yeah. Doesn’t happen very often, not really, but fights do break out on the ice. Occasionally.”

None of this was clearing up Edwin’s confusion. “You were fighting. On the ice.”

Charles could feel his grin slipping. “Yeah, mate. I thought you knew how hockey worked?” he asked.

Edwin rolled his eyes, and Charles couldn’t help but feel grateful it seemed like Edwin was coming back to him, that faraway, scared look leaving. “Of course I know how hockey works. And I know you are not supposed to fight in a college level game.”

Charles shrugged. There were a lot of things you were and weren’t supposed to do. All of it really was more about what you were willing to risk.

“Well, s’not like it was a real game,” Charles said. “So neither of us were suspended.”

Edwin’s eyes widened. “This wasn’t even for a real game?” he asked. “And you could be suspended for fighting? Charles!”

It was sort of funny seeing Edwin get all wound up about such a thing. Fighting was nothing new in the sport, even if you weren’t technically supposed to. This wasn’t the first black eye or busted nose Charles had ever experienced, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.

“Not a big deal, mate,” Charles said. He turned around and pointed to the food he had brought with him. “Let’s eat.”

Edwin hovered at the edge of the ice for a moment, and Charles simply knew that this conversation wasn’t going to die an easy death.

“What happened?” he asked.

Charles turned back to him. “What?”

“What happened?”

Charles waved his hand through the air. “Nothing, mate. Just stupid guy stuff.”

Edwin seemed to bristle at that. “Am I unable to understand ‘guy stuff’?”

Charles cringed as he thought back to Brad's comments. ‘He already is.’ ‘Like a buncha figure skaters.’

Charles didn’t exactly know where Edwin stood in terms of… that. But he did know that it was none of his business, and he wasn’t going to repeat what Brad had said when it was clearly meant to be a dig at him. Or at least an implied dig.

“Not the stupid stuff,” Charles said and tried to flash Edwin a smile.

It didn’t really work.

“Edwin, mate, listen,” Charles said. “You get hurt literally all the time skating.”

Something akin to hurt flashed across Edwin’s expression. “I do not,” he said.

“Just the other day I thought you had snapped your arm from landing on it so hard,” he said, recalling the way his throat had closed up seeing Edwin land ‘wrong.’

“You thought I snapped my arm,” Edwin said. “That did not make it true.”

“Bet you still got the bruises from it, anyways,” Charles said. Edwin didn’t often wear short sleeves around him, likely because they were usually training or doing training-adjacent activities, but he had seen his fair share of dark bruising on Edwin before.

“That is different,” Edwin said.

“Is it?” Charles asked. He tried to keep his tone in check, not wanting to start a whole thing with Edwin again when it seemed like they were finally on the same page. “Because it seems like the same thing to me. You got hurt doing your sport, I got hurt doing mine.”

Edwin balled up his fists. “I get hurt because I make mistakes. You got hurt because someone wanted to smash your face in. That is not the same thing.”

Charles really didn’t have it in him to fight. His nose hurt, his eyes hurt, hell breathing hurt at the moment. How was he supposed to explain to Edwin that Edwin didn’t “make mistakes” when he was training, he just trained too hard and for too long? That was not the same thing, nor was it what was supposed to happen during practices.

But surely Charles wouldn’t be the first to tell Edwin that. He’d been skating for over a decade now, it would be surprising if someone hadn’t sat him down for that conversation.

Or that Charles had experienced someone “wanting to smash his face in” as Edwin had so bluntly put it, and that was not what Brad had been doing. There was an anger and a reactiveness to his actions, but no true malice, just the adrenaline of a couple of idiots fighting on the ice.

He knew what it looked like when someone wanted to actually hurt you. What it sounded like when someone actually intended to break your nose or blacken your eyes. But he couldn’t tell Edwin that.

Not Edwin, whose family let him have the townhouse they weren’t using. Not Edwin whose family must have paid a small fortune to get him into skating so young and keep him in it.

Not Edwin who still currently looked like the idea of someone hurting him was going to make him sick.

That would ruin everything.

“Leave it, Edwin,” he said with a sigh.

Edwin, for once, listened.

He took care of his skates while Charles spread out their food. He thought about carrying it up to Crystal’s office, where the chairs were much more comfortable, but he figured they would just end up coming back down here and he didn’t have the energy to waste.

Edwin settled across from him on the other end of the bench, so light and quiet that he wouldn’t have even noticed if he hadn’t seen him do it. What must it be like to move so gracefully, so carefully?

It really would have saved him a lot of trouble over the years if he knew how.

He watched as Edwin picked at his rice bowl, brushing the veggies back and forth like he was playing in a zen garden. He wasn’t even trying to pretend to eat, just rolling them back and forth until he sighed and set it down.

“You good?” Charles asked, eyeing. He was aware that caf food wasn’t the best, but it’s not like he really had much of a kitchen to cook in, and it was his night to get food. It’s not like Edwin ever really complained about it before.

“I am fine,” Edwin said, somehow emphasizing that whole sentence and making none of it sound believable at the same time.

“Edwin,” Charles said, sighing.

“We’re ‘leaving it’,” Edwin said, as if Charles had been talking to a dog before.

This wasn’t what leaving it meant. Leaving it meant not talking about it, not acknowledging it. This, Edwin dwelling on it, not eating, huffing about it, that was all the exact opposite of ‘leaving it.’

“It’s a rough game,” Charles said. Rough seemed like such an understatement, and yet Edwin didn’t seem convinced. “I literally slam into people all the time. This isn’t a new thing.”

Maybe the busted nose and black eyes were rare, but they weren’t new. All hockey players got them, Hell, he was lucky he still had his teeth at this rate.

“I–” Edwin paused and took a deep breath. “Understand. I understand, Charles.”

It was obvious that he still didn’t, but at least now it seemed like the matter really had dropped. Edwin picked up his meal and sealed it again, hardly even glancing at Charles as he walked back over to where his skates were waiting.

“What’re you doing?” he asked.

Edwin laced his skates, pulling on the laces with more force than was necessary. “I did not have a chance to practice today,” he said. Charles wondered if that was because King had cancelled the practice or if something else had happened. Or Edwin was lying, but he didn’t really seem the type. “So I need to run through my routine a few more times before we go home.”

We go home. Granted, he didn’t mean literally together, just that Charles would walk him home, but still. He couldn’t ignore the fluttering feeling his stomach got at the thought.

Even if he was annoyed with Edwin’s current decision.

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll put this in the fridge, but if Jenny gets mad it’s your fault.”

Edwin shrugged his shoulders, his way of letting Charles know that he had heard him but wasn’t going to change what he was doing.

Awesome, so they were back to not speaking again. Just when he thought they were finally getting through to each other.

He couldn’t tell Edwin why he and Brad had fought. It hardly felt like it should matter, anyways. So Brad had mouthed off about something, what else was new? If he got upset every single time someone said or did something like that, he’d never be okay again.

Besides, he knew it was only a matter of time until Brad apologized. That’s just how they operated. That’s how teams operated. Someone said or did something and it pissed someone else off and they got over it.

Granted, he didn’t usually take a stick to the face, but it’s not like it would be the first time someone had thrown a punch at him. And it likely wouldn’t be the last time, either. This was a contact sport, things like that were bound to happen.

It would seem Edwin disagreed.

He sighed as he glanced at what remained of their meal and checked the clock. Realistically, Edwin could still be skating for hours, although he knew he should probably cut him off soon, no matter what he insisted. He’d let him burn off some of that angry energy first, and then see where that left them.

Surprisingly, it was Edwin who ended the night.

“Done already?” Charles asked. An hour had hardly passed.

“I am tired,” Edwin said. Which set off every alarm bell in Charles’s brain, because he didn’t usually admit to something like that.

“Tired?” he asked, setting his phone down quicker than he intended to and nearly tossing it to the floor. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Edwin gave him a half-hearted glare. Charles had seen more effort from newborn kittens who couldn’t even open their eyes yet. It was funny how quickly Charles was learning what Edwin’s looks were for. This one meant that Charles had said something stupid, but Edwin wasn’t going to actually call him on it.

“Yes,” Edwin said, then paused. “But I cannot focus tonight, so I believe it would be a foolish endeavor to keep trying.”

Part of Charles felt like he should be cheering. Edwin Payne, actually admitting that he couldn’t focus and should therefore stop practicing? It seemed like a miracle.

On the other hand, something like guilt turned Charles’s stomach. “Is there anything I can do? To help you focus?”

Edwin looked at him, properly looked at him and let his eyes roam over every inch of him. He could see him hang up on his nose and eyes, the bruises likely the only thing he was registering.

They would get worse by morning, or at least that was Charles’s experience with them.

“No, I don’t think so,” Edwin said, back to avoiding his eye contact.

Charles bent down so he could intercept his gaze and look him in the eyes again. “Hey,” he said. “I’m good. And you’re good, yeah?” He waited for Edwin to nod. “Then we’re all good. If you wanna keep skating, don’t let me stop you. But if you also wanna call it quits for the night, that’s fine. I’ll walk you home.”

Edwin looked back at the ice, his hesitation clear in every part of him. “You do not have to walk me home,” he said.

Charles grinned. “Might not have to. But I want to. Ready?”

Edwin nodded and removed his skates. Charles wanted to ask him what was wrong, but he couldn’t. He was afraid that Edwin would answer something about Charles’s injuries, and then they’d be back having the same fight and where would that leave them?

It wasn’t until they were nearly to Edwin’s place that he remembered Edwin’s forgotten to-go box was still in Jenny’s fridge. He could only hope that she wouldn’t be too pissed.

XXX

His dorm hall was silent when he let himself in. The hall did tend to be pretty quiet, mostly filled with other sleep deprived juniors who couldn’t afford to move off campus. Half the time a good chunk of the guys were sleeping over at their girlfriend’s place, leaving their rooms empty and the hall rather deserted.

Charles could only hope that meant he wouldn’t be getting a roommate this semester. He’d made it this far without one, why would they ruin his vibe now?

Not that he’d had a vibe to ruin. Unlike the last couple of years, where he and his old roommates had had to work out a rather elaborate ‘sock on the door handle’ system to let each other know when they had a girl over, there had been no girls in his room this year. Well, other than Niko, but she didn’t count.

Instead, Charles had the rather unfortunate pleasure of being a pitstop for Brad and Hunter and whoever else on the team might need a place to stay because their roommate's girlfriend was staying the night.

Which was why he initially didn’t think much about Brad standing outside his room. Until he remembered that just a few short hours ago they’d been throwing punches on the ice.

Brad stood outside his room, tapping away on his phone. Charles stopped in his tracks, and for just a moment considered turning around and leaving him standing there. Maybe Niko was done with her ‘not date’ or maybe he could go to one of the other guy’s rooms.

“Hey,” Brad said, putting his phone away.

Charles nearly cursed.

“Hey,” he said back, pulling out his keys. He’d been better about locking his door since the last time the guys went out to the bar Oliver had stumbled into his room and thrown up in his laundry basket.

He hadn’t even bothered to wash the clothes in there, just threw them right out.

“Gotcha pretty good there, huh?” Brad said and gestured to his eyes and nose.

Charles nodded. “Yeah, you did.” His punch had barely even bruised Brad.

Brad sighed. “Look, man, I’m sorry. I just… Maren and I got in a fight, and I just… lost it. Wasn’t very cool of me to take it out on you like that.”

He wondered if Coach Nurse had gotten a hold of him for what he did during practice. If the speech she had given him while fixing up his nose was any indication, Brad was lucky to still have his head attached to his body.

“Right,” Charles said. “Did kinda suck, having two cheap shots thrown at me.”

It seemed like Brad might argue the point before he took what was probably supposed to be a calming breath. “Yeah, like I said, sorry.”

It wasn’t very sincere sounding, at least not to Charles’s ears, but then again Brad almost never was. Even when he actually was sorry.

He knew what he was supposed to say here, that he forgave him, that it was okay. That he didn’t even care that he’d hit him in the face with his hockey stick.

And part of that was true. Charles knew how emotions could run away from you in the heat of the moment, how this game could easily turn from fun, adrenaline-pumping action, to fist-swinging anger.

Charles tried not to look at that part of it all. It made him question his own actions too much. Was he too rough on the ice, did he hit that other person so hard because he wanted to play the game and stop him, or did he hit him so hard because he was angry and cruel and a bad person?

But those were things he had accepted about the game a long time ago. Both in himself and in his teammates. Brad wasn’t the first guy to get carried away and strike out at his own teammate.

“S’all good,” he mumbled. Maybe he would just drop it if Charles did.

“You know I was just kidding, right?” Brad asked and Charles sighed, stalling at the door again. “I don’t really think you’re fucking around with that guy.”

Charles froze. This felt like dangerous territory they were treading. “What guy?” he asked.

Brad rolled his eyes. “Payne? Payne-in-the-ass Payne?”

Charles ground his teeth together.

“We just saw you walking home with him one night, and well, you know how guys are. It was just shit talking though, really. Yah see a gay guy like that and you just kinda assume,” Brad said, laughing it off.

“How’d you know Edwin?” he asked, still feeling like he was missing something.

Brad furrowed his brows for a second. “Payne?” he asked. “He’s a world-famous figure skater, Chucky. Even I know that.”

Charles turned away from his door, ignoring this issue completely forgotten. “What?”

Brad nodded. “Yeah, Shelby and Maren are obsessed with him,” he said, rolling his eyes. And suddenly a lot of Brad’s comments and digs made a lot more sense. It must suck to have his two ‘sometimes girlfriends’ talk about Edwin so much. “He was set to go to the Olympics or something and then– I dunno? I guess he crashed out.”

Charles let the information settle over him. He knew Edwin was good, fucking brilliant really on the ice. He just never realized he was legitimately a professional.

“You didn’t know?” Brad asked. “Figured you two would have talked about everything under the sun with all the time you’ve been spending together.” There was more than a faint bit of hurt in those words.

He had been ignoring his team lately. Nights were spent at the rink and meals were shared with Edwin, when all of that time used to be spent either split between Niko or the guys. It was hardly a surprise that Brad was being a bit of a dick about it all.

“We don’t talk that much,” Charles defended. “I just lock up the rink behind him.”

Brad snorted. “And then walk him home? What are you, his guard dog?”

No, not in so many words, Charles supposed. But he couldn’t help but admit that there was something there, some sort of connection that he hadn’t expected from the first time they had met. He didn’t entirely know why he wanted to make sure Edwin got home safe or that he ate dinner or stopped practicing at a normal time.

He’d always been a bit of a caretaker, according to Niko. She said that from the moment he laid eyes on something helpless he couldn’t help but take up for it.

But Edwin wasn’t helpless. Far from it. He could bite your head off and not even think anything about it. Hell, he would probably enjoy it if you had pissed him off enough. He’d seen that smile he’d given him when they had played air hockey. That was a smile full of potential to be a dick, just like anyone else.

And Charles wasn’t a caretaker. Caretakers didn’t fist fight his friends on the ice. Or feel the amount of… unsettling anger that he sometimes did. They were gentle and kind and knew how to properly take care of people, not just stand around as a situation got worse.

“You think you’re so smart? You got a scholarship for beating people on the ice. Guess you’re not so different from me after all, huh?”

Or run away to the States like his problems weren’t in his blood.

“Nah,” he said, shaking his head. “Just kinda nice to take a stroll, yah know?”

Brad side eyed him, letting the comment hang there for a moment. “Some of the boys are going to Max’s tonight. You in?”

The last thing Charles wanted to do was go to a bar. All he wanted to do was curl up in bed, take some pain meds, and pretend like his face wasn’t going to look fucked up for a few days.

But he’d always been good at ignoring that feeling.

“Lemme change,” he said, almost sighing.

Brad let out a whoop that was sure to get them in trouble with his RA. At least some things were back to normal.

XXX

The next morning, Charles woke to the loudest banging he’d ever heard in his life. He groaned as he reached for his phone before realizing that the noise hadn’t come from there, but his door.

Great, so he was going to get in trouble with his RA after all.

Groaning, he rolled over and off his lofted bed. Thankfully, he managed to catch himself before he hit the ground, his hands and feet just barely saving his face from another impact. The landing jarred all of him and sent spikes of pain through his face and head as he struggled to make his way to the door.

“Coming, coming,” he called out, his nose so stuffed it sounded like gibberish.

He flung the door open, and there stood Niko, her arms crossed over her chest as she glared at him.

Well, wasn’t that a rare sight. A genuinely upset Niko.

“Hey, Niko,” he said and tried for a smile. It pulled on his swollen face strangely and sent a pounding through his skull. Or maybe that was the alcohol working its way out of his system.

“Did you go out with Brad and Hunter last night?” she asked.

Charles blinked. “Not just them,” he said. “How’d you–”

She held her phone up, which showed multiple stories from the guys on the team taking shots at Max’s. The music was so loud it seemed to be trying to blow out Niko’s phone speakers. He winced, just barely holding back the urge to cover his ears.

“Isn’t this the same guy who punched you in the face?” she asked.

Charles rolled his eyes, no matter the pain it caused. Of course she would call that out. “Sticked me. And yeah, but it’s okay. We’re good now.”

Niko’s eyes seemed like they might explode from her head. “Charles, what the fuck are you talking about?”

“Ooohh, Niko,” Charles teased. “That’s not a very good word for a kindergarten teacher to use.”

“Well, I’m not one yet, and I never will be if I end up in jail for killing Brad!” she said.

Charles leaned against his doorway. “I thought we went over this yesterday,” he said. Because they had, hadn’t they? He was fairly certain he’d stopped by Niko’s place before he’d gone to the rink to meet up with Edwin. And before Niko and Crystal’s… hang out. “Besides, why’re you up this earlier? It’s…” He thought for a moment, struggling to remember. “Saturday. Right?”

“Yes,” she sighed. “It’s Saturday. And I was coming over here to bring you coffee and make sure you were okay after the whole, ‘stick to the face’ incident, and invite you to lunch with Crystal and Edwin, but then I check social media on the way over here and discover that you’re apparently fine! You went to Max’s and everything.”

Charles groaned again. “I haven’t gone to Max’s all semester,” Charles said. “Brad stopped by– and apologized, by the way– and asked if I wanted to go. So I went.” He crossed his own arms. “Didn’t realize I needed to clear it with you first.”

Hurt flashed across Niko’s face for a moment and Charles nearly kicked himself. He knew Niko was just worried about him. And in a world that seemed to have so few of those people, Charles really didn’t want to upset or hurt the one person he knew he could rely on.

“It’s really fine, Niko. Swear it. We just got a bit heated and fought, no big deal. You’ve seen that happen loads of times.”

Usually other teams, but the point still stood. If he was expected to tell that person ‘good game’ and play against them two weeks later like nothing happened, then he could accept an apology from his friend.

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it,” she said.

Charles looked at the drinks currently sweating on the floor. “Is that coffee… Pink?” he asked.

Niko smiled. “It is! The coffee shop has these sprinkles they like to put on their cakes and they let me put some in this, go on try it!” she said, stooping down to grab one of them.

The storm cloud seemed to roll off them as Charles sipped it. It was too sweet, and too… chunky to really be a good ‘drink’ or even a decent coffee, but he could see why Niko liked it.

“You mentioned having lunch with Edwin and Crystal?” he asked.

Niko nodded. “So you might want to put your clothes on,” she said and glanced down.

Charles looked down and realized he was standing there in a hoodie and boxers. “Jesus, Niko, you could’ve said something sooner!”

She smiled as she followed him inside. “And take away my lovely view, I think not.”

He pretended to be shy about that as he searched around for clean clothes. Or at least something that didn’t smell like sweat or now alcohol.

“And you might wanna shower,” Niko said. “I bet Edwin is going to smell nice. He always does.”

Charles flipped her off but grabbed his shower caddy anyways. “Is that why you’re wearing that strong vanilla perfume? Want Crystal to smell yah?” he asked, which earned him a finger back in response.

He laughed as he fled the room.

XXX

Charles tried to needle more information about their date or hangout, whatever it was Niko was calling it, but she was rather tight lipped about the whole thing. A rare thing for Niko to be over something like this, but Charles supposed there was a first time for everything.

Crystal and Niko had apparently picked a pizza place not too far from campus for their impromptu lunch. Or, at least to Charles it was impromptu. The girls had apparently been talking about eating there for forever.

Several people turned as they walked in, likely surprised by Charles’s face. He tried to pretend like it didn’t bother him, that the way people’s eyes kept skimming over his bruised nose and eyes and away didn’t make him feel like he was back in grade school again.

“Holy shit,” Crystal said once they got closer. “They said you took a hit to the face, but Jesus.”

Charles smiled, doing his best to downplay it all. “Least I still got all my teeth,” he joked.

“Did you at least knock him out?” Crystal asked as they got settled in, Charles across from Edwin, Niko across from Crystal.

“Nah, didn’t have a chance. He did it after the fight was called,” he said.

“That’s so fucked. I woulda jabbed him back,” Crystal said. And Charles had no doubt that she would have.

“And likely got kicked off the team,” Edwin said rather blandly.

“For what? Self defense?”

“I think it’s retaliation, at that point,” Edwin said.

“I think he wouldn’t take a stick to my face again,” Crystal said.

Niko was practically making heart eyes at her. Oh, so if Charles does it, it’s a bad idea, but if Crystal did it she gets the loveliest, dopiest smile sent her way.

Charles wondered if Crystal knew how lucky she was.

Edwin fell quiet. His phone was noticeably absent, not even face down on the table like he usually had it. He wondered if Crystal had taken it again like she had the other night at the arcade.

Thankfully, it seemed like Crystal and Niko were incapable of sitting in silence together anymore, so they filled in a lot of the gaps where Edwin was lacking. Occasionally, one of them would nudge him, asking him questions or dragging him back into the conversation, but Charles got the idea that he was off in his own world.

“You good, mate?” Charles asked while the girl’s went off on some tangent about the movie they had seen last night. He still hadn’t looked it up, but from the sounds of it, it was a rather sweet movie that turned tragic at the end when one of the main characters died or something.

Not exactly Charles’s type of movie, but Niko loved romance of any kind. He couldn’t count all the movies he’d sat through, only to be heartbroken at the end when the main couple didn’t quite work out the way he had hoped.

He tried to do it quietly, discreetly, so as not to embarrass him, but he could still see Crystal’s eyes glance their way at the question.

“You are the one with the bruised face and you’re asking me if I am good?” Edwin asked.

Charles resisted the urge to sigh and give up. That was likely what Edwin wanted.

“Just checking, you’re kinda quiet,” he said.

Edwin shrugged. “I am always quiet.”

Now that wasn’t true. Charles had practically had him talk his ear off the other night about the use of one type of skates over another or about some poet Charles was supposed to be reading for class. Edwin could talk, he knew.

“Half the time I can’t get you to shut up,” he joked and then winced when he realized how Edwin might take that. “Not that I ever want you to, you’re just quiet today.”

“I merely have nothing to contribute to the conversation,” he said.

“Not much of a romance person?” Charles asked. That wasn’t very surprising, he thought, considering what he knew about Edwin.

“Not as such. I did not think hockey players were particularly inclined to romance, either,” Edwin said.

Charles blinked. “Hockey players are plenty romantic,” he said.

A laugh burst out of Edwin, clearly surprising not only him but Niko and Crystal as well. “Hockey players?” he asked. “The guys punching each other in the face for fun?”

Charles shifted, well aware of the bruises on his face. It wasn’t the greatest place to start talking about whether or not hockey players were good romantic partners or not.

But he wasn’t going to let that deter him. “Seriously though, we can be romantic. Niko, tell him!” He gently elbowed her, trying to get her to say something.

“Um,” she said.

“No!” Charles said, his voice far higher than he meant for it to be. “Tell him!” He jokingly nudged her just a bit harder to try and get her to speak.

“I’m with Edwin on this one,” Crystal said. “I don’t know that romance is the first thing I would necessarily associate hockey players with.”

Charles pointed a finger at her. “Don’t you betray me, too,” he said. “It might not be the first, but we’re plenty romantic. You ever been on a date with one before?”

“Edwin’s never been on a date,” Crystal said.

Edwin’s face immediately turned red.

“What?” Charles asked, sure he’d misheard. “Never?”

Crystal shook her head and nudged Edwin next to her. “Never, ever, huh?”

He huffed. “I hardly think you need to rub it in.”

“Me either,” Niko said, and then backtracked at both Charles and Crystal’s look. “Well, I mean, not until like… college.”

“I am in college,” Edwin said, furrowing his brows to point out that she wasn’t helping.

“Never?” Charles asked in disbelief. Edwin glared at him. “Sorry, it’s just hard to believe.” He held his hands up in defense.

“Well believe it,” Edwin said. He seemed like a step away from crossing his arms like a child, pouting.

“You never asked a girl out?” Charles asked. Both Edwin and Crystal gave him a questioning look, which he quickly tried to correct. “Or guy. You can ask guys out.”

“I am aware of who I am capable of asking out,” Edwin snapped.

“Uh oh,” Niko muttered under her breath.

“I’m just saying, someone would have to be insane to turn you down,” Charles said. Which wasn’t helping his case, God, why couldn’t he just shut up. “You’re built like that and super smart? Seems like an obvious choice to me.”

God, did Charles ever shut up? He was going to throw himself off the nearest building. Or lay down in the street. Whatever got him to stop talking and sticking his foot in his mouth.

Edwin stared at him for a moment, like some sort of rat caught in a trap, while Crystal laughed so hard it turned into a mess of snorts.

“I’m just saying” he said, trying to bring the conversation back under some sort of control. “You can’t say hockey players aren’t romantic if you’ve never been on a date with them. Or a date at all, for that matter.”

“I can have opinions. Have you ever been on a date with a hockey player?” Edwin asked.

Charles sputtered. “I am the hockey player,” he said. Then, because that sounded far too close to something Brad or Hunter would say he continued, “Besides, I’ve been on a date before. I know what a good one looks like.”

“Oh, yeah,” Crystal asked, leaning over the table. She rested her chin on her hands and looked at him. “And what makes for a good date?”

Charles leaned forward, grinning at her. “That would be giving away trade secrets, now wouldn’t it?”

The waiter arrived with their food, ending their romance conversation. Charles couldn’t help but be a bit disappointed. If the topic had stayed on track he might have been able to wheedle some more information about Niko and Crystal’s date.

As it was, it seemed like both of them were rather tight-lipped about the event.They talked freely about the movie and the place they ate at afterwards, but neither one of them were calling it a ‘date’ in so many words.

But Charles had seen the look on Niko’s face, and the look on Crystal’s when Niko wasn’t looking. It must have been a date.

He wondered if Edwin knew anything more, and if he would be willing to spill any details to Charles. Was Crystal the type to gossip with Edwin after a date? Did she even tell him that she was going or had gone on a date?

The conversation bounced around, some on homework or tv shows or whatever other gossip Niko had heard around campus, but Charles let it fade into the background. His head was killing him, that lingering hangover not wanting to go away, and his nose was sore enough that it made tasting things difficult.

Edwin’s foot reached out, gently butting up against his. He looked up and found Edwin staring at him over his cheesy flatbread.

“Are you alright?” he asked. There was a look in his eyes, something softer and kinder than Charles had ever remembered seeing before.

It sent a spark through Charles, although he couldn’t quite place why.

“Yeah, I’m good,” he said, smiling. “Just tired.”

Edwin nodded. “I imagine it was quite hard to sleep with… that,” he said, nodding towards his bruised face.

“Oh, uh, yeah. I guess it probably will be,” he said.

Edwin’s brows scrunched together for a moment as Niko elbowed Charles in the side.

“Charles decided not to sleep last night,” Niko said, ever so helpfully. “And instead went out.”

“Oh,” Edwin said as he leaned back. He quickly seemed to focus his attention back on his pizza as Crystal frowned at the two of them.

“Now, hold up a tick,” Charles said. “I did actually sleep. I just did it after several drinks.”

“Ah,” Edwin said, staring intently at his food. “That would explain the call I received, then.”

The table fell silent. All three of them were staring at Edwin, as if that alone might force an explanation out of him. Charles could see his ears turning red, and God if that wasn’t an adorable trait.

“What call?” he asked. Immediately he pulled out his phone and searched through his call log. And there, smack dab at the top after a couple of missed calls from Niko, was Edwin’s name. Edwin Payne with a silly little ice skate emoji.

It wasn’t a very long call, barely over a couple of minutes, but Charles couldn’t remember anything from it. He’d never even called Edwin before, hardly even texted him, mostly consisting of asking him questions of where he had put the remote or if he was going to use the gym before skating.

What the fuck had he called him for?

“What did I say?” he asked.

Edwin, seemingly annoyed with all the attention this situation was getting, brushed the crumbs off his hands. “Not much,” he said.

“Not much?” Niko asked, clearly thinking the same thing Charles was. Charles was a big talker when he was drunk. He loved to ramble, to talk on and on about anything that caught his interest.

There was no way he hadn’t said ‘much.’ Even in such a short amount of time.

Edwin looked up like he might be challenging her. “Not much.” He glanced at Crystal, who seemed to be trying to peer straight into his brain with her eyes. “I’ll get the check,” he said and immediately fled the table.

Crystal whirled on him, her hands planted on the table as she leaned over to speak to him. “What did you say to him?” she whispered.

Charles shrugged wildly. “I don’t know! I didn’t even remember calling him!”

“Why did you call him?” Niko asked.

Charles shrugged again. “I don’t know! I don’t remember!”

“Oh my God, is that why he’s wearing his new jacket?” Crystal asked, although the question seemed to be directed more to Niko.

“I don’t know!” Charles nearly squawked. What were they not understanding about that?

Also, was that a new jacket? He usually saw Edwin in his training clothes, and aside from the nice black jean jacket it all seemed rather the same.

The girls exchanged a look that was going to drive Charles mad. He quickly scrolled through his phone, as if it might hold the answers. There was nothing on his camera roll that might suggest why he called, just more pictures that hadn’t made it on to social media last night, but there was something new in his messages.

Please, let me know when you get home.
- Edwin

Edwin had texted him. Last night. And not just because Charles had hid the remote or put the weights in the wrong place.

But because he had been concerned about him.

The message had been sent not too long after he’d left Edwin at his place, but Charles had never had time to check his phone. Not with Brad standing outside his door.

“I guess he texted me last night,” Charles said and showed them the message.

“Aw, that’s cute!” Niko said. She folded her hands together and tucked them under her chin. “Why didn’t you?”

Charles turned his phone back around, still surprised. “I didn’t know. Brad was already waiting for me when I got back to my dorm, and then I guess I just didn’t look at my messages.”

“Drunk you must’ve,” Crystal pointed out. “Otherwise why else would you call Edwin for a booty call?”

Edwin must have the worst timing in the world, because he happened to choose that moment to walk up.

A deer in headlights didn’t come close to describing what Edwin looked like. He looked like he was going to use every ounce of his athleticism to escape this situation, damn the consequences.

Before Charles could open his mouth and say that was not why he called Edwin, even if he couldn’t actually remember why he had in the first place, Edwin cut him off. “The bill is paid. We can leave now,” he said and turned on his toes to leave.

The three of them exchanged glances. Niko seemed excited, Crystal looked like a mix of suspicious and amused, and Charles was sure he looked like he was going to be sick.

Now his hangover and his nose weren’t the only reason his head hurt.

XXX

Niko had insisted that it was ‘too beautiful of a day to waste inside’ and that they should take the long way back to campus. Charles tried to protest, but to his surprise Edwin had agreed and accepted Niko’s arm in his with more grace than he thought he could still possess.

He held his arm out for Crystal, who rolled her eyes. “Might as well, I guess,” she said and slid her arm into his.

He slowed down his walk, purposefully letting Niko and Edwin use their long legs to their advantage and get a bit ahead of them. “Well, that’s not suspicious,” Crystal said with a smirk.

“I wasn’t calling him up for a… that,” Charles said, dropping the words off because ‘booty call’ and Edwin didn’t belong in the same thought at all, much less the same sentence. “I probably accidentally did it.”

Her dark eyes drilled into him. “I can’t exactly judge poor decisions,” she said with a sad smile. “Though I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t break my best friend’s heart.”

Charles nearly choked on his own spit and tripped on his own feet. “That’s not gonna be an issue. It’s not like that,” he said. “We’re not even really friends.”

Crystal’s smile dropped like a stone. She slid her arm out of his and put a bit of space between them. It was like watching her visibly close off, all of her energy shifting into something that was harder to read. Still friendly but more guarded.

“Good to know,” she said.

Charles had fucked up. He knew he had.

“I just don’t know him that well, yet,” Charles said, trying to salvage the situation, to make Crystal understand what he meant. “I’m sure he’s a great friend.”

“He’s annoying and bitchy and makes everyone around him want to strangle him all the time,” Crystal said. Which weren’t exactly selling points on a person, but the way she said it sounded like it was the best thing on Earth.

“Okay,” Charles dragged out, unsure if he should argue against it or accept what Edwin’s oldest friend was saying about him.

“He’s also the first person I would call in an emergency,” Crystal said. “The first person I have called in an emergency.”

Charles nodded. He could understand that. While he was sure it wasn’t quite the same thing, he felt the same way about Niko.

“I just wanna make sure he’s okay,” she said.

And Charles understood that. He might not have interacted with Crystal and Edwin together much, but he could see that in the way they watched each other, looking out for each other even when nothing was wrong. And the looks they exchanged between each other spoke volumes, just a secret language for the two of them developed over years together.

“Me too,” Charles said. He was surprised by how honest his answer was. He might not have known Edwin for very long, but he did want him to be okay. He just didn’t know what that looked like.

XXX

Crystal’s words and reaction weighed heavily on his mind as they dropped Niko and Crystal off at Niko’s dorm.

“My turn to walk you home,” Edwin said with a proud little smile. It seemed like his chat with Niko had cleared up any lingering sense of awkwardness between them and instead replaced him with this version of Edwin who smiled freely and stepped lightly.

Charles really wished it was. “Sorry, mate,” he said. “I gotta go to the library. Sorta didn’t get anything done last night and I’ve got a quiz due tomorrow.”

“Oh,” Edwin said and looked down for a moment. “Well, I need to go there as well.”

Charles jokingly held his arm out to Edwin. “Walk you there?”

Edwin looked at his arm, and for a moment Charles thought he might take it. Instead, he rolled his eyes and turned away.

“Do you need anything from your dorm?” he asked over his shoulder.

Charles pulled his arm back. “No,” he said. “Got it all up here.” He tapped his head with a smile.

Edwin looked doubtful, but at least he didn’t question it.

The library was fairly empty when they arrived, not that that was a surprise. A Saturday this early in the semester almost guaranteed their pick of computers or work stations. It was far earlier than Charles would usually be here, instead usually pushing the deadlines to their literal limits by submitting his work right as it was due, but all of his recent studying at Crystal’s rink had paid off and he was actually ahead for once.

“Have you ever used one of the cubicles here?” Edwin asked.

Charles blinked. “What?” he asked.

Edwin gestured to the second floor. “The study cubicles? Upstairs? You can reserve them and they have everything. A computer, table, dry erase board,” he said, sounding instead like he was describing an amusement park, not a room in a library.

“Uh, no, I didn’t even know that was a thing,” he said.

“Oh,” Edwin said, almost disappointed. “They’re quite nice. Perfect for…” He paused as he searched for a term. “Study sessions. With people.”

Oh. That was right, Niko had mentioned that Edwin had been studying with someone recently. Someone who wasn’t Simon or Charles.

“They sound brills,” he said. And just because he didn’t know how to keep his mouth shut he added, “Perfect for a study date, hm?”

Edwin’s eyes widened, and once again red flooded his cheeks. Charles would never get over how easy it was to make Edwin blush, or how good it looked on him.

He wondered if red would look good on him, too.

“Once again, I have never been on a ‘date,’” Edwin said. “Not even a study one.”

Which really was a shame, Charles thought again. He was sure that he wasn’t the only one who could see how attractive Edwin was, and that was even before taking into account how he looked when he skated. Once you added that in, he was sure the number could only go up.

“We gotta fix that, mate,” he said. As if this was an issue that the two of them could fix.

Edwin rolled his eyes. “I hardly see it as a problem, Charles,” he said. “Niko also hadn’t been on a date until recently.”

He was trying to distract him by dropping hints about Niko and Crystal. And normally Charles would take that bait, but he was a man on a mission here.

“Yeah, but she at least knows what they’re like. She’s practically in love with love. Plus, she’s seen me go on plenty of them,” he said, then kicked himself for how that sounded.

Edwin didn’t seem to mind. “Ah, yes, the oh so romantic hockey player,” he said with a smile.

Charles cringed as he led them to an empty row of computers. It wasn’t like he would normally call himself romantic, although he certainly thought he was, but the idea of Edwin thinking he was was important.

“Hockey players can be romantic,” he insisted again.

Of course, because it was only hockey players he wanted Edwin to think were romantic. Nothing to do with him at all.

Edwin rolled his eyes. “I will believe that when I see it.”

An idea struck Charles. It was coming together almost faster than he could process it, but it was one that he was sure was brilliant.

“Fine,” Charles said. “What about a bet?”

Edwin raised his eyebrows at his words, not even looking away from his screen. “A bet?”

“Yeah,” Charles said, shrugging. “A bet. If I win, I get to show you what a date looks like and thus prove that hockey players can be romantic.”

Crystal’s worried look shot across his mind. She’d said earlier that she just wanted Edwin to be okay, and Charles couldn’t agree more. And if Charles could take him on a “date” and show him how they were supposed to go? How he should expect to be treated by this “study date” person of his? Well, surely everyone would have to agree that he was doing his best to take care of him.

Edwin thought for a moment. “And if I win?”

He wouldn’t. Charles knew that from the moment he set this bet, he was going to win and take Edwin Payne on a date.

“Whatever you want, mate,” he said.

Edwin thought for a moment. “If I win, you have to start running with me.”

Charles blinked. That seemed… easy. And like a waste of a bet. Edwin didn’t need to win a bet for him to do so, all he needed was to ask. Then again, Charles had the feeling Edwin didn’t understand those sorts of things about people.

“Not every morning or evening,” Edwin said, once it seemed like Charles might not answer. “That hardly seems fair.”

The fairness didn’t matter in Charles’s mind, as he wasn’t going to lose this bet.

“What should the bet be?” Edwin asked when Charles didn’t offer one.

Charles tilted his head thinking. It had to be something that he could control, but still have a certain amount of chance left to it.

“What about if I help score an assist in the game, you’ll let me take you on a date.”

Edwin seemed to consider the proposition. “Seems like a low bar,” he said.

“Oi!” Charles said. He’d be lucky to even get one assist at the rate their team was playing. Especially if Brad and Maren decided to fight again. “That’s not a low bar! I’d like to see you do better.”

“So what do you say,” he said, sticking out his hand. “I score an assist, and I get to take you on a date?”

Edwin looked at his hand and raised his own up, just slightly out of reach. “You score an assist, and your team wins the game.”

That was a bit harder, but still doable. They’d been working hard all week. There was no way they were going to lose. Or at least that’s what he’d been telling himself. And like, half the team.

Charles took his hand. “I score an assist, and our team wins the game. And then I get to take you on a date.”

An unreadable look shot across Edwin’s face. “And then you get to show me what a date is supposed to be like.”

Charles felt his cheeks burn. “Right, same difference.”

It wasn’t. It wasn’t and everyone knew it, but he wasn’t going to let a little thing like that get him down.

Now all he had to do was make sure his team won the game, and he would get to show Edwin what a real date was like.

How hard could that be?

Notes:

So, right after I posted the last chapter, Ovi made NHL history by passing Gretzky's record and scoring his 895th goal. Jus thought you all should know I posted a hockey chapter on NHL history day lol!

Chapter 11: Anticipation's Running Through Me, Let's Find the Key and Turn This Engine On

Notes:

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ARROW_JSY!!! This chapter is dedicated to you, bestie! I hope your day was wonderful and you had the best time doing whatever you wanted most!!!

(Strap in y'all, because this is a long one lol)

 

"I get frightened in all this darkness,
I get nightmares
I hate to sleep alone
I need some company
A guardian angel to keep me warm when the cold winds blow,
I can feel you breathe
I can feel your heart beat faster...
Take me home tonight
I don't want to let you go till you see the light,"
Take Me Home (cover) by Every Avenue

There was nothing quite like game days. From the catering the caf provided, to the bundle of nerves that seemed to jump from his stomach to his legs and arms and back, over and over again, it truly was a one-of-a-kind feeling.

Even as a kid Charles had loved game days. Practices and training were fun and enjoyable, of course, but actually getting out there and playing a real game? Something that would matter when it was done? He’d never loved anything more.

He’d tried to explain it to Niko once. To explain that it felt like what he was sure drugs would, if he’d ever felt so inclined to do them. It was addicting and energizing and so nerve wracking he was convinced he would be sick if they didn’t start playing immediately. It had been so bad when he was a kid that he hadn’t been able to sleep the night before a game, his mind just running through plays and moves and all of the things he could do tomorrow, until he’d blink and realize it was morning.

His mum had tried everything to get him to sleep. She’d sit up with him, let him watch a movie, drink calming tea, sit in the dark and try to sleep. And she probably would have tried even more if his dad hadn’t come home one night and found him still awake.

“What do we pay all that fucking money for if you aren’t even gonna take it seriously?” he’d asked. And then he’d got his belt.

But Charles had been taking it seriously. He loved all the sports he’d tried, but hockey had been the one he loved the most.

He still hadn’t been able to sleep before a game after that, he just got better at hiding it.

Some of that had faded as he’d gotten older. His mum had said it would, that eventually he would learn how to calm his mind down in one way or another, but he hadn’t really believed her. Not until he got to college and it actually did get a bit easier.

He tried not to think too hard about why that might be.

But the first game of the season was always different. There was always a certain feeling in the air, a contagious sort of energy that would rile him up, no matter how much he tried to stay calm. Sliding his dark blue jersey over his head, proudly displaying his name and numbers? There really was nothing like it.

At least he wasn’t the only one who caught it now. It seemed like everyone on the team did, even if they did have different ways of showing it. Charles got jittery, Mack got quiet, and Oli drank at least two Redbulls before they ever even suited up.

It seemed a little funny for everyone to get worked up over one game out of dozens, but it was different. The first game was a lot like a first date. It would set the tone for what was to come, afterwards.

It didn’t matter how many people showed up to the first game, if they didn’t win it was hard to get them to come back to the second one, and the one after that and the one after that.

But if they won? Well, who didn’t want to see their team win?

Yet this year there was something else digging into the back of his mind. This was his junior year. He’d only get one more year of this, if he didn’t sign with someone. One more year of first games, last games. One more year of the twisting snakes in his veins and excitement bursting out of his lungs.

He didn’t know if he was ready to let go of that feeling yet.

There was also the added pressure of who was in the stands this time. Niko was practically a standard at this point, she came to every game she could, especially the important ones like today. But this was the first time Edwin or Crystal would ever see him play. And that particular fact added its own sort of wiggling mess of feelings he wasn’t sure how to handle.

Gametime meant that it was time to focus, yet all of Charles’s thoughts looped back to Edwin.

He knew he should stop, but once he got started it was impossible. Edwin seemed to have a rather… poor opinion of hockey and hockey players as a general rule, so what would he think of the game today? Did he have expectations, or was it just a game like any other to him?

Charles tried not to think of everything that was riding on this. Returning people to watch them play the next one, this being one of his last ‘first games’, his bet with Edwin. This game had to go well. It had to, or Charles didn’t entirely know what he’d do.

“Rowland!” Coach Nurse barked, drawing his attention to her. She pointed for him to come and stand in front of her, and he made an absolute fool out of himself trying to hurry to do so.

“Yeah, Coach Nurse?” he asked, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. He didn’t know how to tell her that she was sort of interrupting his pre-game ritual of ‘listening to music and getting pumped up while also overthinking everything,’ without being rude. Or, she would be interrupting him, if he had the attention span for anything at the moment.

She raised an eyebrow, as if she could already hear his thoughts. “Have you and Thompson worked your issues out?”

He glanced back over to where Brad was checking his gloves. The peak of his earbuds could just be seen, letting him know that he likely couldn’t hear anything that was being said.

“Yeah,” he said. “We’re just peachy. Lots of team bonding.” He gave her a smile he hoped she believed.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Good,” she said. “I would hate to have to lose either one of you simply because you two do not know how to set things aside.”

Charles nodded, taking her words for the warning they were.

And then, as if he needed a reminder, she added. “This is the first game of the season. Let’s not have any… embarrassments, alright?”

Charles nodded again. She nodded back at him, her red smile more threatening than if she had flashed teeth.

“It’s time,” one of the assistant coaches said, drawing their attention.

Charles swallowed down all his nerves in one go as he dropped his phone and chain in his locker. He sent up a quick wish for luck and then followed his teammates out to the ice.

XXX

”-and Charles Rowland, number 89 for Yockey University,” the announcers read through the speakers. He waved and clapped as he made his way over to where Brad and Hunter were standing, waiting for Coach’s instructions. Almost against his will his eyes scanned the crowd, looking for his friends.

A screech of feedback went through the arena as the announcers seemed to fumble with the microphone. He frowned and looked up at the announcer’s booth. “Who is that?” he asked. It definitely wasn’t the same as their previous announcer.

“Dunno. Someone said Litty and Kingham as if those names made any sense,” Hunter said. “Apparently, they’re our new announcers.”

Charles frowned again. They’d announced him correctly, he supposed, but they’d done it as if it were a chore to do so.

“I hope they’re not here all season. I don’t wanna hear their whiny asses announcing me every time,” Mack said, and Charles couldn’t help but agree.

They took a lap of the rink, the crowd slowly growing louder. It only took him a minute to spot Niko, in her usual spot in the crowd. She stood in between Edwin and Crystal, urging them to stand up and clap with her. Both of which they did, with varying degrees of enthusiasm.

It was sweet. She’d even managed to convince Edwin to wear a school hoodie, although he looked like he’d rather be wearing anything else other than the gray sweatshirt with DRAGONS printed across it.

Even though she’d told Charles she was getting one for him, he hadn’t thought she’d actually be able to convince him to put it on.

They went through the usual routines, announcements, anthem, one last word from Coach– which amounted to “don’t fuck this up,” and then they were lining up and actually ready to go.

Across from them the other team did the same. They were old rivals on the ice, most of them also juniors and seniors, although Charles was sure he saw at least one sophomore. The bench was probably full of freshmen, just like their own.

It was strange but also kind of nice getting to play the same schools multiple times over the years. It meant that you got to know the team, how they played, what moves they liked to do.

It also meant you know what buttons to press.

Brad wasted no time mouthing off. The puck had barely dropped when he started in, pissing off one of the defense men. He was huge, a mountain of a guy who could probably put Brad in the ground without even thinking about it, but Brad had never exactly made good choices when it came to who to pick at.

The opposing center moved, managing to lead the puck to the other side and back behind their goal. Oliver, their goalie, would be able to handle it, Charles knew, but still he moved in, blocking the center from his wrap around shot and smacking the puck away.

It rimmed the edge of the ice and bounced off the boards. Mack moved, immediately taking it up and basically sprinting to the other side.

Charles tried to stay with him, to be there in case he needed to pass it to someone else, but something slammed into him with the force of a freight train. They’d barely even started, and he’d nearly been driven to the ice.

The ice and sticks scraped along, blocking out almost everything else. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Hunter check whoever it was that had managed to land a hit on him, but none of them stopped moving. The goal grew closer and closer, Mack’s stick almost close enough to touch it, before the other team’s center came out of nowhere and slapped it away.

It shot past Charles, and he just barely managed to clip it and send it in a different direction. The other team still got it, but at least it was a player further back, someone who would have to do more to get to their goal.

Like get through Hunter.

Which simply wasn’t going to happen. Between Hunter’s quickness and Brad quickly closing in, they managed to knock the puck away and back to their other winger, Danny, who made quick work in securing and then darting away with it.

Danny made a shot on the goal. It missed. Mack picked it up and made another shot. This one bounced off the goalie’s glove and ended up with three other guys on top of it, sticks clashing, trying to fight for it.

The whistle blew and everyone separated, getting ready for puck drop again. He risked a glance over his shoulder, and saw Edwin’s eyes trained on the ice, as if he didn’t want to miss a single second of it.

Not even Niko looked that engaged.

The game went on, and Charles and his crew were eventually swapped out in a line change. Every time he did anything, he made sure to look up in the stands and make eye contact with Edwin, just to be sure he was still watching.

He always was.

Their mascot danced off to the side with the pep squad, trying to rally everyone. It wasn’t a bad attempt, but since they had yet to score the energy seemed to be a little lackluster. He couldn’t blame them, although he knew that it would change once they scored. Until then, it just looked like a strange dragon trying to do the worm while standing up in front of some rather unenthusiastic students.

“Who’s even in there?” Charles asked Mack while they sat on the bench. Mack followed his eyes and laughed at the poor sucker who’d ended up in the suit.

“Dunno. Heard we got a new one though, since the last one broke his leg.” His eyes widened as he watched the new one trip over itself and just barely avoided falling down the stairs. “And it looks like this one is gonna do the same.”

Charles laughed despite himself. Their last mascot, Colin, had been a sophomore when Charles had started university, and he’d been the mascot the entire time Charles had been there. It must have felt awful to realize he wouldn’t be able to be the mascot during his senior year.

“Why’s everyone new?” he muttered. “Coach, the announcers, the mascot?”

“The figure skaters,” Mack muttered back, and Charles tensed. “Have you talked to that Simon guy? Whew, he’s a dick, dude.”

Charles leaned back. “Yeah, I guess he is,” he said. He glanced around, just making sure no one else was paying attention before asking his question. “What about the others? You ever talk to them?” he asked.

Because he had to know what Mack thought about Edwin. He knew that Brad and Hunter were pretty much dead set against him, but what did everyone else think? Mack was a pretty easy-going guy. If even he had a problem with Edwin…

Mack shook his head. “Nah. Heard that other new one is supposed to be pretty good, but I ain’t seen him,” he said. “Unless there was someone else you meant?”

Charles shook his head. “Nah, just wondered.”

“Would you two pay attention before the Night Nurse catches you,” Hunter whispered.

As if summoned by the mere mention of her name, she turned and glared at them. She looked remarkably calm considering neither team had managed to score yet and they were quickly approaching the end of the first period.

“You boys will be starting next period,” she said. “I best see some hustle from you.”

As if they hadn’t been busting their ass all period.

The buzzer sounded, announcing the end. He tuned out whatever bullshit the announcers were talking about (they kept mispronouncing McElroy as Mickle-Roy, who were these guys?) and hurried to make his way to the locker room.

“Are they really gonna let him drive that?” Mack asked.

Charles turned around to see that the mascot had apparently climbed up on the Zamboni and started it up. Occasionally, they would turn to the audience and wave or gesture for cheers or something, but for the most part it seemed as if they were focused on resurfacing the ice.

What the fuck?

“Since when does that happen?” Brad asked. “I feel like that shouldn’t happen.”

“Can he even see?” Hunter asked.

“Do you all want to stand around and gawk or do you want to play hockey?” Coach Nurse asked. “If it is the latter, I suggest you hurry to the locker rooms. Now!”

Everyone scrambled. Still, Charles couldn’t resist one last glance behind him at Edwin. It seemed as if he were doing his best to hide his face, barely even peeking out between his fingers.

He’d have to ask Niko about that later.

Coach Nurse’s speech was as frightening as it was inspiring. Charles was sure that there was a specific feeling she was going for with her words, but all Charles felt was the energy pumping back in his veins, that wonderful, anxious feeling coming back full force.

The second period started similar to the first. No goals, shots back and forth that didn’t amount to anything, and enough penalties that each team seemed to be working with less than their full team for most of the period. None of them were serious enough to get anyone in true trouble, an elbow here, a hit there, and Charles was just thankful that he hadn't earned a penalty or been on the receiving end of the result.

Brad returned to the ice and glided up next to Charles. He gave him a nod, a sort of ‘welcome back’ acknowledgement that he returned.

Mack flung the puck in their direction, and Charles was quick to snag it and lead it towards the goal.

Obviously, the other team had a different idea.

Smithson, the other player’s winger, slammed into him, forcing him against the glass. The air rushed from his lungs as they hit, and Charles’s stick whipped out to try and knock the puck back over to his own team.

Brad was there in less than a second, checking Smithson with his shoulder and dropping him to the ice. The puck shot away, heading straight for Mack as he fought to get it in.

Brad yelled something as he passed by, all of it lost in the roar of blood rushing in his ears and the crowd behind him. It must have been good, though, judging by the look on his face he’d glimpsed through his mask.

Hunter shot around the other side of the goal, supporting Mack. Charles moved to the other side, just in case Mack needed him. He could see Brad out of the corner of his eye, making sure that the other team stayed back just long enough for Mack to get it in.

The buzzer sounded, announcing their goal.

And that was a fucking assist!

Without even thinking, he spun around, away from where his team was celebrating to where he knew Edwin, Niko, and Crystal were sitting. The three of them were on their feet, clapping and smiling at him. Crystal and Niko were both cheering, with Niko bouncing up and down, holding on to both Crystal and Edwin’s arms as she did so.

It was the look on Edwin’s face that distracted him though. There was a bright, proud look in his eyes as he clapped, although he was much more subdued than the other two.

Niko leaned over and said something in Edwin’s ear. He was too far away to even guess at what it might have been, but it did leave Edwin turning his head towards her in confusion.

The buzzer sounded again, letting him know that the period had ended.

That stupid mascot was back, moving down the aisle as it clapped. He remembered Edwin’s comment about it looking like a “fuzzy lizard” rather than an actual proper dragon, and he hadn’t been able to think of anything else when he saw it since.

“Chucky!” Brad said, slapping him on the back, cheering. He turned and followed where he’d been staring, it being obvious who he was looking at.

“You hittin’ that?” he asked, and Charles nearly choked on his mouthguard.

“What?” he asked as they headed towards the locker room.

“That girl, what’s her name? Crystal? The one who owns the rink?” he asked. “She’s pretty hot.”

Charles felt himself relax and tense up at the same time. For just a moment he thought he was going to start in about Edwin again, but he should have known better. Brad could never resist commenting on a pretty girl’s appearance.

No matter how inappropriate it was.

“Who’s hot?” Hunter asked, hurrying to catch up with them.

“Chucky’s got a girlfriend,” Brad said.

“No, I don’t,” he said.

Hunter frowned as he took off his helmet. “Why didn’t you say anything?” he asked.

Charles shook his head. “I don’t.”

“It’s that Crystal girl,” Brad said, tossing his stick from hand to hand and catching it. “The one with the rink?”

Hunter got an ‘oh yeah,’ look on his face. “The one with the gay friend? She’s hot.”

Charles ground his teeth together. He couldn’t get angry, not now. They still had a whole period to get through, he couldn’t start a fight. All that would do would get him in trouble and likely cost them the game.

And he had a game to win.

“Girl’s got bad taste in friends, but I can’t argue, you know what I’m saying,” Brad asked and punched Hunter in the chest. Hunter laughed and returned it.

One more period. That’s all it would take. Just make it one more and then he could go back to his dorm and chill out.

Unlikely, but he could dream.

The last intermission always seemed to move by so fast and the last period even faster. In most games, Charles had already spent his time out on the ice and instead was regulated to watching the game from the bench.

That was not the way Coach Nurse did things.

Instead, he got subbed in again, just as the clock was winding down. They were tied, with both teams clinging to their two goals and praying for another one.

Charles almost liked being in the last half of the game more than the first. There was a different sort of energy now, his body and mind were tired and just wanted to give up but couldn’t. Even if he was subbed out of the rest of the game, he knew he’d be tapping his foot and cheering right along with the rest of his team. There would be no rest until this game was over.

The ref dropped the puck, initiating what would likely be the final challenge of the game. Charles darted forward, following Mack to the center and rushing past the other team. He made sure to stay clear of Smithson, who he knew had it out for him now.

The other team's defensemen immediately got on Mack, blocking his shot. Which left Charles wide open.

Mack hit it to Charles, who absolutely meteroed it towards the net.

Charles grinned. That puck was in. It was fucking in, baby! He knew it from the second it left the ice it was going in.

He turned around and met Edwin’s eyes in the stands before the buzzer even sounded. Even from a distance he could see his eyes widen, the shock of the final score hitting him. Beside him Niko and Crystal were cheering, alternating between shaking him and each other.

That stupid dragon stood off to the side, failing at his mascot duties. Shouldn’t he be cheering right now?

But none of that mattered. Because with that final goal Charles had secured a “date” with Edwin Payne.

XXX

“So, what are you going to do for your date with Edwin?” Niko asked. She moved his clothes from one side of his wardrobe to another, shifting it from side to side like it might somehow reveal more clothes.

Charles already knew what he was going to wear. He’d bought this red, short-sleeve button down shirt months ago, with these subtle designs printed into it that only managed to be visible in certain lights. He thought they looked cool, sort of like skulls, but Niko had said that they had looked more like sad cats and had quickly vetoed it for his last date.

Apparently sad cats were okay for Edwin. Charles wasn’t sure how well that really bode for their date.

That, combined with his dark dress pants, black boots, and his gold chain had him checking and double checking himself out in the mirror. His earring really tied the whole thing together, in his opinion, hopefully drawing attention to how much effort he had put into his hair to get his curls just right for this.

Edwin’s dates should be putting in an effort, after all.

“When did you get those boots?” Niko asked as she looked him over.

Charles glanced down. “I’ve had them for a while.”

“I’ve never seen you wear them on a date,” she said, walking around him like a cat. “Are you… taller?”

Charles slouched. “No,” he said.

Niko smiled brighter. “You are! These boots add like two more inches to your height!” She gently tapped one of them with her foot and alternated between tiptoes and her normal height. “You’re already tall, why are you adding to your height?”

Because Edwin was also tall? It was rare for them to actually be out of skates standing next to each other, aside from on their walks home, but any idiot with eyes could see Edwin was tall. Charles would maintain that he believed he was taller but still.

“I’m not,” he said defensively. “They’re just nice boots.”

Niko eyed them skeptically. “I guess,” she said. “But you didn’t tell me what you guys are doing.” She picked up his styling gel and eyed it for a second before putting it back down. “Do you even know?”

Of course he knew. He’d been thinking about this all week since he’d made the bet, even when he should have been studying or practicing or any other number of things. Planning this date for Edwin had become his top priority without even meaning to.

Because he did think it was important. Your first date really set the tone for what you could expect from all the others to come. A really bad first date might allow you to accept less. Or it could only go up from there. But a good date, a date that was planned and cared for and everything? That would help to show Edwin what he should be getting out of everyone else.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got it all planned out,” he said. Which only made Niko look more worried.

“Charles. Do you actually have something planned or are you winging it?”

Charles held his hands up. “I’ve got it all planned out! Honest!”

She looked a bit skeptical, but didn’t argue. “God, I hope this goes well,” she said.

Charles did, too.

XXX

The problem with taking someone like Edwin Payne out on a date was twofold. One, Edwin seemed like a classy guy. The type of person that would like wine and museums and history or art and all of the things that Charles didn’t honestly know much about. But they lived in a city, so that didn’t strictly rule those things out.

What did rule them out was their schedules. Between classes and practice and everything else, the only real time they could plan this date for was at night, when most of the museums were getting ready to close.

Problem number two, Edwin came from money. A lot of it, if his clothes and gear were to be believed. And while he and Crystal never seemed to look down on him or Niko for being less fortunate in that department, it did make it sort of hard to plan a date that would be up to his potential standards.

But Charles had found a way to work around that. One, he’d saved up his money to take him to an actual, proper restaurant, and managed to find a museum that did planetarium shows at night, all for the low, low price of ‘free for college students.’

He didn’t know if Edwin actually liked stars or planets or anything like that, but he had seen him carrying around a book about them a few times at practice, and those times were basically what he had to go on.

The thought that he could always ask Crystal what Edwin liked to do crossed his mind, but that felt like cheating. Shouldn’t his “date” know enough about him to be able to properly plan this night out?

Then again, he’d absolutely used other people’s friends to figure out the perfect thing for them before. There was just something about it that felt wrong this time. He wanted to get this right, and not just because he was told what to do for Edwin.

He walked up to Edwin’s door and took a deep breath. Why was he so nervous? None of this was even real.

His knock sounded loud in the enclosed porch. He waited for a moment, wondering if he should knock again, when the door suddenly swung open.

Charles felt his mouth drop open slightly, his eyes widening.

Edwin might not have ever been on a date, but he certainly knew how to look for one. Even if his outfit did look like it came off a mannequin at some high-end men’s clothing store.

His trousers were black, just a tad bit looser than the one’s Charles had chosen for himself. And his top was a turquoise-colored sweater, complete with a white collared shirt underneath it. It should have made him look nerdy, or like he was going on a study date rather than a night out on the town, but there was something about him that pulled it together.

It was his eyes. Charles was no stranger to using a bit of eyeliner here or there, but the slightly darker shadows around Edwin’s eyes had them looking less tired and more… green. And his hair, usually slicked down and rather straight, was now full of waves, styled perfectly to bring out the form and shine in his hair.

“Hello,” Edwin said, almost a question.

“Oh, hey,” Charles said. He reached behind him to pull out the bouquet of flowers he’d stuck in his own back pocket to surprise him.

It wasn’t much. Just a handful of wildflowers he thought looked pretty. He’d always thought people wanted roses, but one of the girls from sophomore year had told him that roses were ‘overdone’ and the ‘easy way out.’

Charles didn’t believe that. He thought they were pretty, especially the red ones, but who was he to judge. He wasn’t the one getting them, he was the one giving them, and he could update his methods.

“Oh,” Edwin said, surprise painting his face. “I–um, thank you.” He took the flowers as if they might be something dangerous as he looked them over.

“Sorry, you allergic?” Charles asked. He should have thought about that.

Edwin shook his head. “Oh, no,” Edwin said. “I just… wasn’t expecting them.”

Charles smiled. “Rule number one of a date,” he said. “Your date should pick you up. Rule number two, they should give you something nice.” He nodded to the flowers.

Edwin smiled. “Taking this whole “date” thing very seriously, are we?” he asked.

“‘Course I am! I told you I’d show you what a good date was, and I meant it,” Charles said. He checked his phone for the time. “And our Uber should be getting here soon, too.”

Something flashed across Edwin’s face, so quick that he would have missed it if he hadn’t been staring straight at him.

“An Uber?” he asked.

Charles nodded. “Yeah, the restaurant is kinda a walk from here, and I don’t want us to be late.” The Uber was the most expensive thing about this date, aside from the restaurant.

Edwin bit his lip. “I could drive,” he said.

Charles blinked at him. “You have a car?” he asked.

Edwin nodded. “My family used to live in America for half of the year. I even have an American license,” he said.

Which… okay, that was information Charles previously hadn’t had before. He was going to have to file that away for later.

“Not the way this works,” Charles said, shaking the idea away. “I’m taking you on the date. You shouldn’t drive yourself to your own date.”

Edwin rolled his eyes. “Crystal would say you sound like a chauvinistic pig.”

“I’m not! That’s just… not how this is supposed to work,” he said. How was he supposed to surprise Edwin with his plans if he had to ask him to drive him there?

Edwin sighed and crossed his arms. “We could always take the bus,” he said.

Charles stared at him. “You would take the bus, but not an Uber?” he asked.

Edwin shrugged. “It is different.”

It felt as if Charles were talking to a toddler. “What’s different? Aside from the fact that one will take us, like, ten minutes and the other could take an hour?”

“I did not realize you were such a snob when it came to public transportation,” he said.

Oh, that was rich. Charles, a snob?

“Ain’t being a snob, mate, I just don’t get why we can’t take the Uber,” he said. This whole date centered on them arriving to places on time, he couldn’t stand there wasting time arguing about how to get there.

Edwin thought for a moment before he looked at Charles, a look of defeat crossing his face. “This is supposed to be you taking me on a ‘date,’ correct?” He waited until Charles gave a long-suffering nod. “Then shouldn’t your date get to decide how they arrive?” he asked.

Well, fuck. Charles couldn’t really argue that point. He sighed and leaned his head back, praying for the patience to get through this night. It was going to be fun, he knew, but it certainly seemed like he and Edwin were incapable of doing anything the easy way.

“Can you at least tell me why?” he asked. “One good reason why I should cancel the Uber?”

Edwin moved his head back into a sort of ‘challenging’ position. “I do not trust other people’s driving,” he said.

There were a million holes in his reason, Charles knew. One, didn’t the bus driver count as someone else driving? And two, was he really such a control freak he couldn’t relax about something like that for five minutes?

But Charles sighed. He’d asked him to give him one good reason, and he had done so.

“Fine,” Charles said, pulling his phone out. A few taps later and the ride was cancelled. “We can take the bus.”

XXX

Apparently, they couldn’t take the bus. Neither one of them were sure why, but there were no buses scheduled to head the direction they needed, not at least until after their reservation.

Edwin apologized, offering to drive them again, but Charles told him no. He even offered to get into an Uber if Charles wanted to order one, but the nervous, upset look on his face had him brushing the idea off.

The point of a date was to be fun, and he couldn’t imagine either one of them having much fun with that stressful look.

Instead, they had opted to walk there. If they moved fast, they might even be able to make it in time for the reservation. The speed-walk was quiet, the stress quickly and quietly mounting as they moved along.

More than once, he caught sight of Edwin’s guilty expression. It wasn’t his fault though. Charles should have checked with him how they were going to be getting around that night, and he could have let him drive there.

But Charles stood by the fact that that was not how dates worked, and he wasn’t trying to change that now.

Finally, they reached the restaurant, Charles practically sprinting the last little bit to catch the door and get checked in. He made a show of holding the door open for Edwin, because he was a goddamn gentleman even if they had sprinted through downtown together, and he was going to remind him of that.

“Charles Rowland,” he said, just a bit out of breath as he stepped up to the hostess’s stand.

She flipped through her list and then switched to a tablet. “Rowland?” she asked. He nodded. “I’m sorry, it looks like you’re late.”

He smiled, putting on his best ‘oopsie daisy’ expression for her. “Only, a little bit, yeah,” he said. It was true, they were hardly even five minutes late, even with having to run downtown.

She gave him a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry,” she said. “But we have a policy. You have to be here five minutes before your reservation to check in.”

Charles, never one to be deterred, smiled even wider. “That’s still only ten minutes then,” he said. “C’mon.”

She at least had the decency to look torn about it. “I really, really am sorry. I could get my manager if you wanted…”

Charles waved away the thought. That was the last thing he wanted her to do, even if it did get him what he wanted. He wasn’t going to bitch out someone just because he’d planned poorly.

“Nah, thanks though,” he said, and turned back to Edwin.

He was standing there with a sheepish look on his face and Charles couldn’t help the flick of embarrassment that went through him. No ride, no reservation, all of this was going completely wrong.

“It is alright,” Edwin said. “I could try and–”

“No,” Charles cut him off, and then immediately felt bad. “I just mean, that’s not the way dates are supposed to go. Rule number… three? They’re supposed to be the ones who have things planned.”

Edwin let out a bit of a snort, just short of an actual laugh. It didn’t seem to be at Charles though, which went a long way in making sure Charles didn’t lose his mind.

“Am I not allowed to assist my date?” he asked.

Charles led them out of the restaurant, trying to figure something else out. There were other places they could go, and a lot of them nearby. They wouldn’t be nearly as nice, but they could work…

“Hello?” Edwin asked.

Charles looked back at him. “What?” he asked.

Edwin rolled his eyes. “I was asking if there was anything I was allowed to help with,” he said.

Charles shook his head. No, there really wasn’t. He checked his phone for the time. The planetarium show wasn’t supposed to start for at least another hour, but maybe they could head that way anyways? Grab a bite to eat over there rather than eating over here and needing to hurry that way? Or maybe they could catch an earlier showing and then try to find somewhere for dinner?

Come on, Charles, he thought. You can do this. It’s just one bad thing. Most dates usually have at least one thing go wrong.

Except. it wasn’t just one thing. Charles should have guessed that he wouldn’t have that good of luck.

“Closed due to a busted pipe?” he read aloud, staring at the sign on the museum’s door. Edwin sat down on the stairs outside the museum; his head tilted towards the sky while Charles cursed under his breath again.

What the fuck was going on? He’d never had a date go so badly before. This had to go down in history as one of the worst, poorly planned dates ever. Even though he actually had planned and had put in an awful lot of thought to this date.

“Charles,” Edwin said quietly.

Charles ignored him while he pulled out his phone. Maybe there was another museum nearby? Or maybe he could shell out for an actual event, since he hadn’t had to pay for such a fancy dinner? He’d still need to save some money for dinner, but that could work.

“Charles,” Edwin repeated.

Charles let out a distracted, ‘hmm?’ in response. He didn’t want to hear whatever excuse Edwin might make or hear how badly this date was going, he was well aware.

Edwin stood and quickly hurried over to him, nudging them both back under the museum's awning. Before he could ask why, the sky split apart, and rain fell in buckets around them.

Charles stared out in disbelief, his phone hanging limply at his side.

There was nothing to do now. The museum was closed, they’d missed their reservation, and now it was fucking raining and there were no fucking buses on this side of town.

Charles never should have made that bet.

If this had been anyone else, he might try and laugh the whole thing off. ‘Crazy bad luck, am I right? Let’s dance in the rain, though.’ But he didn’t want to laugh about this. He’d put a lot of thought into making this a special date for Edwin and now everything seemed to be stacking up against him.

Edwin shuffled next to him, his shoes squeaking in the puddle that was quickly growing around them. The awning did very little to block the wind and rain from their knees down, soaking them through quicker than Charles would have even thought possible. They could have been more dry standing in a swimming pool.

Thunder rumbled overhead. At least there’s no lightning, Charles thought and then immediately wanted to kick himself. That was the kind of thought that got you in trouble when your luck was going as poorly as his.

There wasn’t even supposed to be rain for another six hours!

He tried not to look at Edwin’s big green eyes as he scrambled for how to fix this. He’d spent more time planning this date than he ever had before and look at where it got him. Wet, hungry, and more than a little frustrated with everything in life.

Neither one of them spoke for a while. The rain beat down on the city streets, sending people scattering for shelter.

“Perhaps we should call it a night,” Edwin suggested.

Charles clenched his fists. This wasn’t how any of this was supposed to have gone. He’d gone on so many dates before, and even his worst one’s had gone better than this. Couldn’t he even get a date right?

“Maybe,” Charles said and stared out into the rain. It was lighter now, less of the torrential downpour it had started out as, but still enough to soak you just the same.

Edwin sniffed. “We could always try again?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Charles said.

But they couldn’t. You only got one chance at a ‘first date,’ and Charles had blown that.

Maybe it was because he had tried so hard. Most of his other dates were far more laid back, sort of play it by ear type of affairs. Maybe that was where he had lost the plot.

He looked at Edwin, hunched over on himself, trying to stay out of the rain. “If you were old enough, I’d say fuck it and we’d go to the bar.”

Edwin blinked at him. “We can.”

Charles smiled and laughed. “Not in the States, mate. You’re a little young for that.” He gave him a good-natured elbow to the ribs, as if Edwin had simply forgotten this fact.

“I have a fake ID.”

Charles stared at him in confusion. “You? Have a fake ID?” he asked.

Edwin nodded. “Crystal and I have had them for years,” he said. He reached into his wallet and dug around until he pulled out an ID. George Payne, 21, birthday January 1st.

It was nice. It looked real. If Charles hadn’t known it was a fake, he likely wouldn’t have realized.

“You used a fake first name?” Charles asked with a snort.

Edwin shrugged. “I didn’t choose it. Besides, Crystal said my real name was too recognizable.”

Right. Because Edwin was a famous figure skater, wasn’t he? Charles had almost forgotten that tidbit Brad had revealed.

He hadn’t even had a chance to look him up yet.

“Well, then, George,” Charles said, and Edwin rolled his eyes. “What say we go to the bar?”

“That does not sound particularly romantic,” Edwin said. But he didn’t outright tell him no.

“Perfectly romantic,” he said. “For a hockey player.” He stuck his hand out, asking him to shake. “The bet was about hockey players, remember?”

Edwin slid his hand into his. “Fine,” he said. “I did say I was up for anything. Besides, it can’t be worse than standing out in the rain.”

XXX

They did, unfortunately, have to make it across downtown in the rain. Thankfully, it had slowed down for the moment, leaving them looking a bit like windblown and water-logged rats, but not actually drowning.

Max’s sign flashed in front of them, dripping water on anyone unfortunate enough to walk under it. Aside from his trip with the team the other night, it had been months since Charles had last been there, and he almost missed it.

The red neon lit Edwin’s face up as he stared at the sign. “Max’s?” he asked.

Charles shrugged. “Practically a staple at school,” he said. A place to get cheap beer, drink underage as long as you were cool about it, and close enough to campus that most people could stumble home drunk.

“I assume this is where you called me from the other night?” Edwin asked.

They hadn’t talked about that yet. Everytime someone brought it up Edwin would say it was ‘no big deal,’ and expertly guide them away from the conversation. Not even Niko or Crystal had been able to weasel that information out of him, yet.

“Yeah,” Charles said. “About that. I’m sorry for whatever stupid shit I said.” He scratched the back of his head. “Niko says I’m always running my mouth when I’m drunk and that I don’t know when to shut up. So, if I said something or did something that made you uncomfortable, just, you know. Say the word and it’ll never happen again.”

Consideration like Charles had never seen before crossed Edwin’s face. “You did nothing wrong, Charles,” he said. “You were perfectly… respectable.”

Oh, fuck, Charles was going to jump in front fo the next bus.

“I’m never gonna get to know what I said, am I?” Charles asked.

Edwin smiled. “Not by asking like that.”

Charles shook his head as he led them inside. It wasn’t very busy yet, most of the college students likely wouldn’t be there for a couple of hours still, but there were plenty of people gathered around the bar and ordering food.

“IDs,” the bouncer, Jared, said.

Edwin’s ID earned a bit of extra scrutiny, but it passed. It’s not like Jared could even really tell the difference between a real ID or a fake one, he likely just wanted to give Charles a hard time since he now had proof Charles had been lying for years about his age.

“No trouble,” he warned Charles with a stern finger before moving it to Edwin. “That goes for you, too.”

Edwin nodded.

“Charlie!” one of the bartenders called out, waving him over.

Charles grimaced. He should have thought about the fact that a lot of them knew him here. Not that he was embarrassed to be seen with Edwin or anything, but it did make the “date” vibes a little less date-like to have this many people trying to take his attention away.

“Hey, Stu,” he said, motioning for Edwin to follow him. Surprisingly, he did. “This is Edwin, Edwin this is Stu.”

Stu cracked open a bottle and handed it to the guy next to Charles. He gave a brief head nod to Edwin, acknowledging that he existed, before turning back to him. “The rest of the team comin’, too?” he asked.

God, Charles hoped not.

“Nah, just us tonight,” he said, gesturing to Edwin again. Stu seemed to actually look at him now, and Charles couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes swept up and down, almost like he was… checking him out?

Well, you learned something new every day, didn’t you?

“Well, what can I getcha?” Stu asked Charles. “The usual?”

Edwin’s brows furrowed. “Usual?” he asked.

Charles shrugged. “Sure. Two,” he said, holding up two fingers as if he might have been misunderstood.

Music started up, the touch tunes in the corner kicking on. A low, sad country song about losing your girlfriend (or maybe your truck?) filled the bar, seeming to satisfy the old timers.

“Oh God,” Charles muttered, unable to help himself.

Edwin snorted. This was not the vibe he had wanted to bring to this date.

Stu set two bottles of beer up on the counter and Charles slid his card over to him to start a tab. He led Edwin over to one of the high top tables and they sat down, sipping cheap beer and dripping water onto the floor.

The silence was physically painful. The bar was plenty loud between the music, the older patrons talking and singing, and one of the TVs that was playing in the corner, but neither he nor Edwin said a word.

“So this is Max’s,” Edwin said. He eyed his beer before setting it down on the table and crossing his arms. He couldn’t properly lean back, not while sitting on a stool but he did at least lean slightly away from the table.

“It is,” Charles said. “Best bar town.”

About that time Jared escorted a particularly rowdy drunk guy out of the bar.

“Closest bar in town,” Charles corrected. And Edwin smiled.

He liked that it was getting easier to make Edwin smile. Nothing about this date had been smile worthy so far, but he’d still been doing quite a bit of it.

“So,” Edwin said, carefully. Quietly. “This is what it is like to be on a date with Charles Rowland.”

Charles groaned and dropped his head onto the table. “No,” he said. “This is like… The exact opposite, mate.” He knocked his bottle with his hand from side to side, careful not to actually spill it. “I had it all planned out. Nice dinner. The planetarium. Even a nice walk in the park afterwards,” he said.

Edwin leaned down until he was eye level with him, though he did cringe away from the idea of sticking his face onto the actual table. “It sounds like a very lovely date,” he said.

Charles groaned again and pressed his face flat into the table. “Sounds like a very lovely date. It wasn’t supposed to just sound like one, it was supposed to be one!”

“Tell me, are all dates supposed to be this whiny?” Edwin teased.

“Oi, and now you’re making fun of me,” he said, sitting up to mock glare at him.

“You are the one who made me run through the rain,” he said, and Charles lost all his fight again.

“Jesus. Yeah, I should probably just take you home, huh,” he said. He could down this beer and then they’d be good to go. It was still early even; Edwin could possibly even get in some skating time if he wanted.

Hell, that was probably the most romantic thing he could have done for Edwin. But Charles hadn’t wanted to do something related to their sports. He’d wanted to do something nice that Edwin didn’t have to work for. All he was supposed to have to do was show up and enjoy.

So much for that.

He slid off of his stool, but Edwin made no move to follow. Instead, his eyes followed one of the waitresses as she walked by carrying some finger foods and beers.

“Shit,” Charles said. Because somehow in one misstep after another, he’d forgotten about dinner. Charles hadn’t been able to even think of eating before the date with how anxious he had been trying to get everything right for tonight.

So much for that plan.

But there really wasn’t anything for Edwin to eat here. He wouldn’t even trust a sad salad like he had at the arcade.

His stomach growled, and for once he was thankful for the sad country music playing overhead.

“Come on,” he said. He hoped he didn’t sound as upset as he felt, but from the look on Edwin’s face he must have.

“Or,” Edwin said. “We could stay here. Just until the rain stops?”

Charles glanced towards the doors, despite the fact that he couldn’t actually see outside through them. “Who knows how long that will be,” he said.

Edwin picked up his bottle and took a sip from it. “I am sorry. I was not aware that dates had time limits,” he said.

“Maybe they don’t,” Charles said. “But I’m hungry and you’re probably starving, and there’s no way I’m feeding you some piece of shit salad from here.”

Edwin seemed to consider his words for a moment. “If this were a typical date, what would you order?”

Charles dropped his head back and stared at the ceiling that likely hadn’t been cleaned in a decade. “Dunno. Nachos? Or mozz sticks? Probably woulda ate somewhere else first, ya know?”

Edwin nodded. “Fine, if you were here with anyone else what would you get?”

He didn't usually order food at the bar, but the team often did. “Same. Nachos. Wings. Something to split, I guess.”

Edwin nodded and finally slid off the bar stool. “Right, be right back,” he said, and walked over to the counter.

Charles blinked after him. A second later and he followed, standing right behind him as he ordered several different bar items. He took the little flag they gave him and handed it to Charles, before leading them back to the table they had claimed.

“What’re you doing?” he asked.

Edwin eyed his beer before sliding it away from him. Fuck, Charles should have grabbed those when he went to the counter after him.

“Ordering dinner?” he asked, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Yeah, but you don’t…” He trailed off, unsure how to continue that sentence.

“Eat?” Edwin asked.

“Eat that kind of stuff. Y’know, junk?” he said.

“I do,” Edwin said. “Sometimes. On special occasions.”

Charles lifted an eyebrow. “And this is a special occasion?” he asked.

“Well, it is a first date, is it not?” Edwin asked, and Charles supposed he had him there.

The next time a waitress walked by he ordered Edwin another beer. He asked Edwin if there was anything he preferred other than that, but he’d only shaken his head and said, ‘whatever you would prefer.’

Twenty minutes and a food delivery later, and they were actually talking. And not just about sports or school or the rink, actually talking about each other.

“So, what else do you do for fun?” Edwin asked in what was probably one of the most stereotypical date questions ever.

Edwin blushed when he informed him of this. “I might have looked up a list of appropriate questions to ask your date,” he said. “I took notes immediately after you won your game.”

And Charles’s stomach did something that was completely unrelated to the nachos or beer.

“You took notes?” he asked.

“Yes,” he said. “Though they are unfortunately on my phone and note number one reminds me that it is ‘rude to be on your devices’ during a date.”

That was fucking adorable. So precious Charles thought he might die. What fucking nerd took notes about how a date should go? It was so Edwin that he didn’t know why he was even surprised.

“Guess it is,” he said. “But to answer your question, I like to play video games. And board games if there’s enough people. Watch movies. Niko and I used to make Saturday afternoons our ‘movie days’ when we were younger,” he said.

“Why did you stop?” Edwin asked. The music in the background changed again, this time a more upbeat country song about loving your truck. Who the fuck was even playing this shit?

“Got busy,” he said, scooping up a helping of nacho. “Lots of hockey games happen on Saturdays. And now between studying, working, practice, there’s just not a lot of time.”

A sad look came over Edwin’s face. “Do you miss it?” he asked.

Charles bobbed his head side to side. “Sometimes. But that’s growing up, innit?”

Edwin seemed to consider this for a moment. Quietly, he sipped his beer, nearly catching up to Charles somehow.

“What about you?” he asked. “What does Edwin Payne do for fun?” he asked.

Edwin wrinkled his nose. “Why do you say my name like that?” he asked.

“Like what?”

“Like it’s a title and not a name.”

He hadn’t realized he had. That was just sort of how he tended to think of Edwin. Edwin Payne. First name, last name.

“Dunno,” Charles answered honestly. “Seemed right. I can stop if you’d like.”

Edwin considered this. “It’s fine. It is my name, after all,” he said. “But to answer your question, I do not really do much outside of skating.”

That simply could not be true. “Come on, I’m sure you do plenty,” he said.

Edwin shook his head, a quiet little ‘mm-mm,’ slipping past his lips. “I go to school, and I train,” he said. “And then I sleep.”

Charles sighed. “Fine, but what about when it’s not competition season?” he asked. “You gotta do something else then, right?”

Edwin shook his head again. “Sometimes I read. I suppose,” he said.

“Still sounds like schoolwork,” Charles teased. And Edwin gave him a small smile at his attempt of a joke, “But seriously, you don’t play games? Hike? Do– I dunno, puzzles?”

“I do not see the point in most video games, and hiking puts a lot of stress on parts of my body that I cannot damage,” he said. “But I suppose I do enjoy a good puzzle. Not that I have done one recently, but they are fun.”

“Eyy, lookie there,” Charles said, squirreling that idea away for later. “Something that isn’t skating that you enjoy doing!”

“I suppose movies aren’t the most terrible things, either,” he said.

“Wow, high praise,” Charles laughed.

Edwin did too. “I simply mean that I usually fall asleep on them halfway through, unless they manage to hold my attention.”

“Probably wouldn’t do that if you slept more,” Charles said, only half joking.

Edwin rolled his eyes and finished his beer. He gave a slight grimace as it went down, but otherwise didn’t complain. “You are awake the same hours I am. We spend a good portion of them together.”

That might be true, but it didn’t really feel like it. It felt like there were so many hours between walking Edwin home and meeting up with him again in the evenings.

The waitress brought another round. Slowly the music lost some of its twang and turned into more ‘divorced dad rock’ as Brad and Hunter liked to refer to it. He still wasn’t sure what that meant, but anything was better than what had been playing before.

Edwin finished off the last of their nachos, just barely preventing a glob of it from falling onto his sweater. Niko might have referred to him as a ‘bottomless pit,’ but it seemed like Edwin was every bit the same when it came to nachos.

“So, tell me something else about you,” Edwin said, leaning forward onto the table. It didn’t seem like it was intentional, rather the uneasy rocking of his stool combined with his nearly completed second beer.

Charles thought for a moment. “I’m from London,” he said, which he thought was obvious, yet he’d never actually mentioned it to Edwin before. “Came over here on a scholarship. Hoping I’ll get picked up by someone so I can keep playing even after school, though the chances of that are low.”

Edwin leaned onto one of his hands, keeping his face propped up. It was a very un-Edwin-like position, yet very endearing. “Who would you want to play for?” he asked, his words slightly off.

“Anyone,” Charles said. And he meant that. He had preferences, of course, but he wouldn’t be picky. He’d go to any team as long as they’d have him.

Edwin nodded, mulling this over.

“What about you?” Charles asked. “What do you plan to do after… after?” Because he wasn’t certain how to phrase the question. After he was done competing? After he was done skating? Did someone like Edwin ever really stop skating?

Edwin tapped the side of his bottle, listening to the hollow, empty sound it made. “I have no plans for the ‘after,’” he said.

“None?” Charles asked. “What’re you going to school for again?”

“English,” Edwin said. “Though I will likely have to go into law later, at my family’s insistence.”

There was more than a hint of bitterness in his tone, and Charles almost felt bad for bringing it up.

“Least that’s a degree that can get you a job,” he said. “Coulda been worse and been something like... Clown school.”

A small, surprised laugh burst out of Edwin, so quick and sharp that it almost sounded more like a bark than a laugh. He covered his mouth with his hand, as if that might somehow take it back, and laughed again.

Another old timer turned on some country song, one Charles as fairly certain had already played before, and both he and Edwin groaned in unison.

“I swear, it’s not always like this,” Charles said.

“Oh, so you mean to tell me you are not secretly into cowboys and come here for the music?” Edwin asked with a flirty smile. “What a shame.”

Charles felt like his brain had shut down. He had barely even finished his second beer, but it must have been strong or something because all of his thoughts had stopped at Edwin’s smile and words.

If Edwin mentioned Brokeback Mountain or some shit, he was going to die.

He searched for anything else they could possibly talk about, and his eyes lit up when they landed on the pool tables. There was even a free one, right in the corner so they could have a table all to themselves.

“Wanna play pool?” he asked. And if Edwin noticed his slightly hasty question, he didn’t point it out.

“Alright,” he said. “Should we get another round before?”

Probably not. Charles did anyways.

The table was one that Charles was familiar with. Set off in the corner, with a high top table and chairs next to it where they could set their drinks, it was the perfect place.

Charles handed Edwin a few bucks for some change while he grabbed the pool cues from the wall.

Edwin returned and dropped the change into his hand. He took the pool cue, his fingers lightly brushing against Charles’s. There wasn’t any need for it, the stick was a million miles long he really could have grabbed it from any other part, but Charles shivered as their hands grazed each other.

He leaned back against the table, his long limbs and body seeming to be loose and light. He’d never seen Edwin like this, so carefree and… happy. There was a brightness he’d never seen in him, not even when skating, and Charles wanted to bottle it up. To save it in a way that no picture could, just to be able to pull it out later when he looked too tense and upset and remind himself that Edwin had once looked this fucking happy.

“So, we’re going to play a game?” Edwin asked, gesturing to the pool table with a nod. “What’re you wanting to bet now?”

His words were less pristine than they normally were, just buzzed enough to match the nerves fizzing under Charles’s skin.

He shook his head. “No, just thought we could have a friendly game of pool,” he said. As if anything he and Edwin ever did was friendly.

Edwin raised an eyebrow. “Friendly? That is not very date-like,” he said.

Charles stared at him for a moment. He was right. If this were a date, Charles wouldn’t be looking to do the typical shoot-pool-with-your-buddy kind of thing. He would be putting the moves on him, teaching him how to shoot and leaning all over him.

“Guess it’s not,” he said with a smile. It was the kind of smile he gave to his dates, the sort that had charmed his way in and out of more situations than he could count.

Edwin watched him move closer, his eyes tracking him as he did so.

“So, this is how you set them up,” Charles said and quickly racked the pool balls. He could feel Edwin’s eyes, always watching, as he did so. Had he always been able to feel his eyes so intently, or was that a new thing? Maybe a side effect from the alcohol.

That’s what he was going to blame it on.

“Then, one of us breaks,” Charles said, miming shooting at the group of balls with his stick.

“Mmmm,” Edwin said, looking at the table. He mimed shooting it like Charles had, his hands not quite in place to practically shoot.

“You can go first,” Charles offered, stepping to the side.

Edwin leisurely moved into space Charles offered. He passed by him, so close that Charles could smell his cologne and wondered what exactly he was wearing that was strong enough to beat out the rain and every other smell in the bar.

He set his pool cue up on the table, his hands not quite in the right position. “Nah, mate,” Charles said, stepping up next to him. “Put your hands like this.”

He moved Edwin’s hands until they were better balanced against the stick, giving him just enough room off the table to shoot. Purposefully, he moved closer, his own body basically laying over the top of Edwin’s as he nudged one of his feet to correct his stance.

A hand on his waist and his face next to his ear really completed the “instruction.”

“And then all you have to do is,” Charles clicked his tongue as he lined him up. “Shoot.”

Edwin’s face was stained red. Charles could almost feel the heat burning off him as he kept his face as close to his as he dared. If this were an actual date he might go in for a brush against his cheek or one maybe his neck. But this wasn’t a “real” date, and Edwin would likely kill him if he even tried.

“Ah,” Edwin said, his voice cracking. “I see.”

Charles moved back just a slight step, his hands still hovering on Edwin. “It’s easy, really,” he said.

Edwin nodded. He leaned forward, far more than he had been, and moved his hands back into the strange position he’d had them in before and slammed the pool cue into the cue ball. The balls scattered, and Edwin managed to sink two solids in the process.

Charles blinked. Edwin smiled in what Charles was beginning to realize was a flirty smile as he slowly stood to his normal height.

“Oh, look. I did it,” Edwin said, flatly. The smile only grew as he stared at him. “It must be because you’re such a good teacher.”

He leaned back on the table again and tilted his head, and he didn’t look like the neurotic mess he usually did. He looked young and flirty and…

Edwin looked fucking hot.

“You know how to play?” Charles asked.

Edwin bobbed his head side to side. “I have been to more dive bars than you could imagine,” Edwin said. “And sometimes playing pool was the only entertainment we had.”

Charles found all of that sentence hard to believe. “You? You have been to dive bars?”

Edwin nodded as he moved to take another shot and, okay, yeah. Charles’s brain was officially on the fritz. There was no way he could handle Edwin looking hot, being drunk, and knowing how to fucking play pool.

“Crystal was prone to running away when we were younger,” Edwin said. He took his shot and successfully managed to sink another one. “And I would often follow after her. Dive bars are almost more common than McDonalds in America.”

Once again Charles found himself wondering about who the fuck he was talking to. Every single time he thought he had Edwin figured out he came out of left field with something like that. This was the same nerdy guy who wanted to take notes on how to talk to his date. And now he was shooting pool like an expert, like he knew Charles was watching him.

“Edwin Payne, slumming it in a dive bar, huh?” he asked. He had a feeling he wasn’t going to get a turn unless he did something to throw him off his game. “I just keep finding out more things about you.”

Charles leaned back against the table, much like Edwin had been earlier, and watched him. Him, not the ball, as Edwin lined up for another shot. That red seemed here to stay as Charles moved just a bit closer to him, invading his space the slightest bit.

Maybe it was the drinks or the heat from the bar. Maybe it had nothing to do with Charles at all.

But he would take it.

He could tell he’d sufficiently distracted Edwin when he glanced at him out of the corner of his eye and then scratched, sinking the cue ball.

Edwin smiled and handed over the cue. “I believe it is your turn,” Edwin said.

Charles nodded. “Cheers,” he said and turned to look at the table.

There were a lot of places he could put the ball, plenty that would allow him to get his own shot in. But he chose to do it right next to Edwin, making sure to brush arms as he did so.

Edwin didn’t even move, the bastard. Just leaned there like this was his table, and he was merely gracing Charles by allowing him to play on it.

Charles sank one ball, and then another before missing.

He smiled and turned back to Edwin and could feel his heart catch in his throat.

Edwin had taken off that slightly oversized sweater he’d been wearing and now stood in his white button-up undershirt. He folded up his sleeves, perfectly like he was a fucking model or some shit, and Charles knew he was never going to look at a fucking mannequin dressed the same way ever again.

Edwin held out a hand for the cue, and for a moment Charles was almost stupid enough to take hold of his hand rather than give it to him. Thankfully, he caught himself at the last moment and only managed to smack himself with the stick once in the process.

His sleeves rested perfectly around his elbow, highlighting the shape and muscles of them in a way that made Charles finally understand what Niko meant about that being a turn on for women.

The rest of the shirt didn’t hurt, either. It was just loose enough that Charles had room to imagine what might be underneath without him being able to actually see it. The designers of that shirt deserved a raise for it not turning see-through despite the fact that Charles was sure it was likely just as wet as his sweater had been.

Or maybe they deserved to be fired. Who could say?

Edwin placed his sweater down on the stool next to their table and took a sip from the beer Charles had bought him. Wincing, he looked at the bottle before eyeing Charles. “I cannot believe this is what you want to drink,” he said. As if he hadn’t already downed two of them.

Charles let out a half offended, half distracted noise. “S’good beer, mate,” he said.

It wasn’t. It was one of the cheapest and what the hockey team drank.

Edwin eyed the bar for a moment. “What about another bet?” Edwin asked.

Charles raised his eyebrow at him. “Another one?”

Edwin nodded, setting his beer down. “If I win, I will buy us something… better than this. If you win, we’ll keep drinking whatever you want,” he said.

The point of the night wasn’t to get drunk. But if Edwin was offering to buy something nicer…

“Fine,” he said. “But I also want you to answer some questions for me. If I win, that is,” he said.

Edwin tilted his head. “Some questions?”

Charles nodded. “That is the point of a date, yeah? To get to know someone?”

Edwin stepped closer. “I believed the point of a date was that you already knew someone and liked them,” he said.

Charles felt his breath catch again. “Well, maybe I really like you and really wanna get to know you.”

Edwin looked down, his eyelashes hiding his eyes. “Fine, I will answer some questions. If you win,” he said.

Charles nodded and gestured for Edwin to take his shot.

He did. And quickly finished off the game.

Charles smiled. “If you didn’t want to answer my questions, you coulda just said,” he said.

Edwin smiled, like stupid proud little smile that was growing on Charles. The one that made him gently move his head back and forth in a ‘ha, look what I did’ fashion, and God was Charles obsessed with it.

“I will get us our drinks,” Edwin said. “Set us up again?”

Charles nodded. He’d already set them up and downed the rest of his beer by the time Edwin came back.

There was a strange look on his face, one that Charles wanted to question, but he didn’t. He hadn’t won the game, after all, he hadn’t earned the right to ask anything.

He spread his arms wide, gesturing to Edwin. “Ask me anything,” he said. “I’m an open book.”

Edwin handed him what was clearly a shot. It was clear with a lime on the rim, and Charles could tell it was tequila. “A shot?” he asked.

Edwin nodded. “A good shot,” he said.

He wasn’t sure what Edwin knew about ‘good’ shots, but he’d take his word for it. He motioned for Edwin to clink glasses with him, tapped it against the table, and downed it.

Okay, for tequila Charles did have to admit that it was pretty nice. He sucked on the lime, immediately grateful for the chaser.

Next to him Edwin did the same, just a moment behind. “How many ‘first dates’ have you been on?”

Charles nearly spit his lime out. “Bloody hell, Edwin, you can’t ask that.”

“Why not? I won the game.”

Charles searched for a reason. “Because… because. It’s rude.”

“I am rude,” Edwin said.

He wasn’t. He was just being argumentative.

“It’s not usually the kind of thing you’d ask on a first date,” Charles said.

“Why not? It seems like a perfectly logical question to ask someone if you are trying to decide if you want to actually date them. The perfect ‘get to know you’ question, if you will.”

Charles shook his head and sucked on the lime again. “S’not, really. But to answer your question, I don’t really know? Depends on what you count as a date.”

Edwin tilted his head. “Well, I am asking you, what do you count as a date?”

Charles could trip him up and point out that technically that was a second question, but he didn’t. “Like I said, I don’t really know. But I can tell you for sure, I’ve never had a date like this.”

Thankfully, Edwin understood that it was supposed to be a compliment. He smiled and nodded his head while he sucked on his own lime. “Break?”

Charles agreed and broke. The game went by much quicker than the first, this time with Charles coming out the winner. He flagged down a waitress and ordered another round of beers before turning to Edwin to ask his question.

Edwin was leaning against the table, that dopey grin spread across his face. “As you said, I am an open book.”

Somehow, Charles doubted that.

“Fine,” he said. “What did I say on the phone to you the other night?”

Edwin’s face flashed several different emotions at once. There was confusion, surprise, and more than a bit of amusement mixed in there.

“I wondered when you’d ask,” he said.

Charles laughed. “Figured now is as good of a time as any.”

Edwin seemed to agree. He walked over to Charles and stuck his face close to his ear, like he was letting him in on a secret.

“Do you know how amazing you are?” Edwin said, his lips almost touching the shell of his ear.

The hairs on his arms raised as his brain turned the rest of the way off. Edwin leaned back, a smile on his face like he had just won the biggest trophy ever.

“Among some other things,” he said.

“Oh, my fucking God,” Charles said, immediately dropping his face in his hands. “I’m sorry. I mean, I’m not sorry, it's true– but I’m sorry I called you and said that. What else did I say?” he asked, but Edwin only shook his head and mimed keeping it a secret. “Hey, no fair. That’s not how the game is supposed to work! I just wanna make sure I wasn’t, like, a creep or something!”

“You didn’t really answer my question, so I believe this is fair,” he said. “Besides, I can assure you that you most certainly were not a creep.”

Charles sighed in resignation. “If I win again, can I know the rest?”

Edwin shrugged a loose-limbed shrug. “Perhaps.”

It became a challenge after that. Charles trying to figure out what off the wall things he’d said, and Edwin trying to figure out anything else he could about Charles’s previous love life.

“No, I’ve never really had a serious girlfriend. Not for long anyways.”

“You told me I move like butter. No, I do not know what that was supposed to mean.”

“The first person I ever had a crush on was that main guy from The Lost Boys. The second was the girl from The Lost Boys.”

“You said you liked watching me. No, don’t be upset, it was a compliment, I know that. I didn’t think it was creepy, Charles.”

Charles had long since lost track of who was winning or whether or not he was supposed to be stripes or solids. All he knew was that Edwin was laughing and knocking into him with a sense of comfortability that Charles had yet to see from him.

It made him happy. Even happier than he had imagined it would when he had originally proposed this bet.

The eight ball went in, and Charles couldn’t even remember if it was supposed to be a good thing or a bad thing. “I want to ask another question,” he said.

Edwin gestured to the table. “I don’t think it’s your turn.”

Charles shrugged. “So, what do you look for in a person?” Charles asked.

“I don’t understand.”

“In a date. A dateable person. A person you would go on a date with?” Charles asked, each correction only serving to make it more confusing.

“I have never really considered,” Edwin said, glancing down.

“Oh, I’m sure you have,” Charles said. “Who hasn’t? So, what do you like?”

Edwin thought for a moment, tapping the pool cue against the ground. “Nice?” he said.

“Nice is the bare fucking minimum,” Charles said. “Do better.”

Edwin’s eyes widened as he looked behind Charles. “Uh-oh,” Edwin said.

Every instinct in Charles screamed out at once. He gripped the pool cue, ready to deal with whatever problem had put that look on Edwin’s face, only to see some of the hockey team filing in.

“We should go,” Edwin said, quietly.

Charles wanted to argue, to tell him no, they were here first and that meant they should get to stay, but Edwin seemed committed to the idea. He downed the last beer Charles had gotten for him and replaced his stick on the wall before turning around to wait for Charles.

He knew that he should argue, stand his and Edwin’s ground, but it didn’t seem worth it. Edwin was already so cagey around the team, he didn’t figure it would be a good idea to do this while drunk.

“You said something about a walk in the park?” Edwin asked.

Charles smiled. “Yeah. Think the rain’s even stopped by now.”

As stealthily as Charles could, he paid his tab, and they snuck out the side door. He was almost certain Mack had seen him, but if he did, he didn’t call attention to it.

The park wasn’t very far from campus or Max’s, just a few blocks over. He wondered if Edwin ever ran through here on his daily runs. The walking trails were beautiful in the fall and spring, their leaves lending well to changing colors and blooming flowers at different times of the year.

“Swings,” Edwin said, as if he had forgotten the concept ever existed. There was a strange sense of wonder to them that Charles couldn’t help but be charmed.

“Do you wanna swing?” he asked. It had been years since he’d been on one, and probably even longer for Edwin.

He nodded. Charles tagged him on the arm. “Race?” he asked a moment before taking off.

“Hey!” Edwin said, chasing after him.

Edwin beat him to the swing by a full ten seconds. He fell into one of them, his long legs tangling up in themselves for a moment before fully falling. He laughed and his hands wrapped high up around the chains to keep himself stable.

“Easy, mate,” Charles said, although he was no better. He tried to sit down on the swing next to him, only to miss and completely end up on his ass.

“Ha!” Edwin said. It wasn’t dignified or classy like his normal voice. It was rude and loud and so fucking surprising that it made him laugh again.

Edwin moved his legs in a strange way, as if he had never swung on a swing before. “You ever done this?” Charles asked from his spot, flat on his back in the rock bed.

Edwin’s swing went a slight bit higher. “I thought you had to win to ask questions,” Edwin said with a smile.

Charles smiled. It was contagious, apparently.

“Fine, I bet I can lay here while you swing,” Charles said. “Oooh, look at that. I won.”

Edwin laughed again, this time slightly higher pitched than before. A step above a more civilized snort, really. “Fine. What did you mean, ‘done this before?’” he asked. He moved his legs again in a strange way, not one that was really conducive to swinging. “Get drunk?”

Charles shook his head even though Edwin could see him. “Nah, mate. Swing. Because right now, you look like someone who never learned how.”

Edwin leaned back, so far Charles was convinced he was about to tip out. “Swing?” Edwin asked. “I’m doing it right now, am I now?”

Charles gave him a noncommittal shrug. “Sorta. Looks more like a fish trying to fly.”

Edwin let out a scoff. “Says the person who couldn’t even make it into the swing.”

Charles reached up and grabbed the back of his white button up and gently pulled. There was hardly any force behind it and yet Edwin went willingly, letting go of the swing chains and dropping like a stone.

Thank God Charles had quick reflexes. He reached up with both arms and managed to pull Edwin into a more guided fall to the rocks, his back falling against Charles’s chest.

“Oops,” Edwin said as his long legs dangled in the swing. He kept laughing, as if he hadn’t nearly killed himself by falling almost headfirst out of the swing.

Okay, so Charles was being a bit dramatic. But still, he hadn’t thought Edwin would just let go like that.

Charles let his head collapse back to the rocks, unable to hold back his own laugh. It was sort of funny, when he thought about it.

“Looks like you lost,” Edwin said. He shifted so he was next to Charles, rather than sprawled on top of him. Charles tried not to miss the warmth he had provided. It wasn’t that cold out, after all.

He eyed Edwin’s white shirt that was quickly soaking through with mud and dirty water from the rocks. Fuck, they’d forgotten his sweater back at the bar, hadn’t they?

Charles furrowed his brows at him. Edwin clarified. “Your bet. I couldn’t keep swinging. Which is probably good, because I feel like I’m going to be sick.”

Charles put his arm under Edwin’s head, cushioning it from the ground. His legs were still stuck in the swing, but other than that he was pressed right up against Charles, his whole body making Charles obnoxiously aware that it was there.

“Mixing alcohol will do that,” Charles said.

Edwin mumbled something, his face so close to Charles’s ear it was almost just noise at that point.

“What was that?” he asked.

“Don’t drink often,” Edwin said. “Coach gets upset.”

Charles nodded. He figured Edwin took his training too seriously to drink very often. Unlike hockey players, who were practically fish in season and out. “Coach King does sound like a serious guy,” Charles said. He remembered him standing up to Charles and kicking him out when he thought he was harassing Edwin that one time.

Edwin shook his head and then laughed as it must have made his vision do something. “Not him. I like him. The other one,” he said.

Other one? Edwin only had one coach, to his knowledge. He was fairly certain he would have heard if there was another one by now.

Then again, what did he really know about Edwin or his life outside of the time he spent with Charles?

“How many coaches do you have?” he asked. Because he wasn’t sure how it worked with figure skaters. Did they have multiple, like Charles? There was Coach Nurse and the assistants and trainers and reps from the school, and on and on although he really only counted Coach Nurse. She was the scariest, after all.

Edwin held a single finger up and then laughed. “One! But I’ve had,” he trailed off, his fingers doing a strange dance before he held all of his fingers up at once. “A lot. More than this.”

More than ten coaches? Even if you counted all the way from when Charles was a kid he didn’t think he’d had more than ten coaches.

“What about you?” Edwin asked, quickly turning this back on him. “Do you like your coach?”

Charles paused to think about it. He respected her. He feared her. Both in a different way than he did his father.

“I think so,” he said. “Our old coach was… different.”

Edwin nodded, bumping his head against Charles’s shoulder. “Well, her methods certainly seem to be more effective. You actually won a game. Which according to Niko is a rare thing lately.”

“Oi,” Charles said, sliding his arm out from under Edwin’s head so he could look down at him. “It’s not rare! Niko’s just being a hater.”

Edwin smiled up at him and Charles’s stomach and head reeled. That slow, easy smile was fucking lethal, and it seemed Edwin didn’t even know it.

“Niko? A hater? I doubt that,” Edwin said.

The last thing Charles wanted to hear out of Edwin’s mouth right now was his best friend’s name. This was a place meant just for the two of them, a moment in time that he would find a way to freeze and live in forever if he could.

He leaned over, his face dangerously close to Edwin’s. “Did you actually style your hair just for tonight?” he asked. He’d wanted to ask earlier, how Edwin had managed to get the waves in his hair to be so nice and noticeable, but he hadn’t wanted to call attention to it.

“Is that not something one does on a date?” he asked. He tilted his head to the side and Charles’s hand caught the edge of his hair, just enough to rub it between his fingers. “Crystal was the one to do it.”

So, Crystal had helped him get ready. The thought made Charles smile, the idea of bold, opinionated Crystal clashing with equally bold and opinionated Edwin over what to wear or how to style his hair seemed like so much chaos. But in a fun way, at least. He was sort of sad to have missed it.

He’d seen some of the waves before when he’d sweat through his hair product while skating, but he’d never seen them like this. With intention.

Edwin reached up, his hand grazing against Charles’s in the process, to feel where he was messing with his hair. “What about you? Half the time you look like you have helmet hair, but look at those,” Edwin said, gesturing to his hair.

Charles snorted. “I do not have helmet hair,” he said.

“You do. Not all the time, but I can definitely tell when you have had practice that day,” he said.

“Slander. Lies. Perjury,” Charles said.

“I think the word you were looking for was libel,” Edwin said. “And it is still incorrect.”

“Oh, you’re so smart, huh?” Charles asked.

“Indeed.”

“And so humble,” Charles said, moving his face just a bit closer. It still felt like miles between them, but it was far closer than he’d ever been to him before. The low light of the park had washed his features out, leaving him looking like he was a painting done in black and white, highlighting how fucking beautiful he was. Forget that museum, he had a work of art right here.

“Is this how you treat all your dates?” Edwin asked. “Flattery?”

“S’pretty good way, don’t ya think?” he asked. “Is it working?”

He could see Edwin’s gaze flick from eye to eye on him, searching in a way they never had before. What were they looking for? A sign? Something else?

“Hey! What are you kids doing?” a voice called out.

“Fucking campo,” Charles said, jerking his head up. They weren’t even on campus, technically, but boy did they like to power trip.

“Who?” Edwin asked.

Charles jumped up, and in one fell swoop pulled Edwin to his feet. “Campus police,” he said, grabbing Edwin’s hand. “Come on!”

The last thing they needed to get was a public intox charge. Especially since Edwin wasn’t even twenty-one.

Edwin stumbled for a moment, his feet slipping on the shifting rocks, before he managed to find traction. Then, he was pulling Charles along, dragging him by the hand he refused to let go of. “Faster, faster!” Edwin yelled, as if Charles were simply being slower by choice and not the drinks they’d had or their sudden turn of events.

He couldn’t even tell which direction they were running. Nor did he think Edwin could, either. His hand stayed firm in his though, never once wavering or letting go. The chilled air tore through his shirt as they raced through campus, clearly not designed for this type of activity. His lungs burned as he tugged on Edwin’s hand, swinging him around to head towards Edwin’s place.

Campo likely wouldn’t follow them there. They didn’t get paid enough to patrol that nice of a neighborhood.

It was difficult keeping up with Edwin, but he managed. He squeezed his hand, letting him know that he wanted him to slow down, and he did. He felt back until they were walking side by side, panting from the spontaneous sprint across campus.

The whole time Edwin laughed, as if this whole thing had been the funniest thing he’d ever done.

Charles might agree, once he got some air back in his lungs.

The night air was cool against his skin, the nearly fall temperatures settling around them quicker than Charles had anticipated. He should have grabbed a jacket. He should have made sure Edwin had grabbed his sweater from the bar.

One glance at Edwin’s ruffled, dirty shirt and how it was currently showing off more skin than he had ever seen on Edwin had him second guessing that statement.

Still, he could tell Edwin was feeling the chill, too. It was different than skating on the ice, that sort of expected cold was easy to ignore while practicing, but out here? It was a bit much.

“Well,” Charles said, pulling all of Edwin’s attention to him. “I think that about wraps up the night. Can’t really top almost getting arrested.”

Edwin rolled his eyes. “We would not have gotten arrested, Charles,” he said.

Maybe Edwin wouldn’t have, but Charles wasn’t so sure about himself. Usually clean cut, posh, white Edwin? Yeah, he might get a slap on the wrist. But things weren’t exactly the same for Charles.

But he wasn’t going to be the one to point that out.

“Fine, at least in trouble,” he said. “I think that means there’s really only one thing left to do.”

Edwin looked at him, as if he were a teacher giving a lecture. “And what is that?” he asked.

Charles smiled. “I gotta walk you home,” he said.

At least they had already managed to run halfway there. Still, it was a physical effort to try and get Edwin to walk in a straight line towards his own home. And himself, if he were honest, but he did at least seem to be handling it better than Edwin.

He wrapped one of his hands around Edwin’s waist and kept him walking, not quite holding him, but definitely guiding him. Edwin, in response, had wrapped his own arm back around Charles and leaned his head over until it was resting on his shoulder.

Charles supposed that was one good thing about dating someone who was about the same height as you.

Edwin’s porch light was on as they walked up, the bulbs faintly buzzing as they stood under them. At some point in time Edwin had started talking about… spinning? The world spinning or maybe he meant skating spinning? Charles couldn’t really keep track at the moment.

“Weird,” Edwin said, looking at his light.

Charles laughed as he leaned up against Edwin’s door. He tried to right himself, to push himself back up on his own two feet and look Edwin in the eye, but it was too hard. There was something so nice about leaning against the door, feeling the way it was so solid and cool on his over flushed face. His body might be chilled, but his face felt like it was going to melt.

Edwin didn’t appear to be fairing much better. He was laughing, or as Charles liked to think of it, giggling as he tried to dig his keys out of his pocket.

Charles thought about offering to help and then thought about the implications of where his hands would have to be and immediately put them in his own pocket.

This was nice. Actually, this was more than nice, but Charles wasn’t sure what else to call it. He liked seeing Edwin smile like that, breaking free from the pressed lip smile he sometimes gave him and full-on grinning. With teeth! It was amazing. Brills. Ten out of ten, Charles would pay to see it again.

Finally, Edwin dug his keys out, holding them up for inspection with a little ‘ta-da’ that sent them back into another fit of giggles. The red flush grew across Edwin’s cheeks until it moved down his neck, hidden by that maddening shirt he was wearing.

Charles was never going to look at mannequins at the mall the same ever again.

“So, that’s what a date’s s’like,” Charles said, doing his best not to slur more than he already had been. “Well, more or less. Hopefully, there’s usually less winging it.”

Edwin smiled as he also leaned against the door. “And less country music.”

Charles nodded and pointed at him emphatically. “Less. Way less country music,” he said.

Edwin snorted and nearly stumbled backwards. He wouldn’t have fallen, there wasn’t really anywhere left for him to go other than up against the wall behind him, but still Charles reached out and wrapped a hand around his arm to steady him.

He stumbled slightly forward until their faces were inches from each other. Charles was sure Edwin’s breath smelled like the wings and nachos they’d eaten at the bar, as well as a shit ton of alcohol, but hey, who was Charles to judge? He was sure his did, too.

Standing this close to him, Charles could see the multiple colors in his eyes. He’d always said they were green, and they were, but no he could see others that he had missed. Blue, green, a faint almost yellow color, just a mash of all of them until they turned into a rather lovely green.

“And this is where you’d kiss them goodnight,” Charles said. “Only if you want, you don’t have to do anything you don’t wanna on a first date.”

If he leaned in just a bit more Edwin’s lips would be a literal breath away.

Kissing would be a mistake in every way possible, but Charles always had been reckless.

Edwin laughed, a breathy, surprised sort of thing that Charles realized he might actually like more than the giggles he had been doing before. It sounded soft to his ears, like no one else was meant to hear it but the two of them.

Before Charles realized what Edwin was doing, he’d leaned over and pressed his lips against his cheek.

It was a barely there kiss, hardly even worth considering, but it meant everything to him. Charles had aunties that kissed his cheeks with more force than that feather of a sensation, but fuck if it wasn’t enough.

He watched as Edwin leaned back with a shy smile. “There. Not ‘putting out’ as they say, but hopefully enough to keep them interested.”

Yet another thing he must have learned from his ‘research.’ The right amount of ‘putting out’ on a first date. God, Charles was dead.

He thought back to Edwin’s arms while they played pool. His laugh as Charles made the worst joke on Earth. The way he had been willing to go along with almost everything tonight once it had started to go wrong, despite knowing that was not Edwin’s style at all.

He worked his jaw until it snapped closed with a click. “Yeah, mate, that’ll do it. That’ll for sure keep them interested, mmhmm,” he said. Or at least he hoped he did. It suddenly seemed so hard to get his brain cells to cooperate.

“Good,” Edwin said with a nod. “Then it seems you won the bet.”

Charles blinked. “Whatcha mean?” he asked.

“The bet?” Edwin asked. “You bet that hockey players were romantic. That’s what this whole ‘date’ was about, wasn’t it?” There were air quotes around the word “date”, which Charles had also used all night.

Now it felt painful to see them attached to it.

Charles knew none of this was a real date. Edwin might have left off the part about wanting to also make sure he knew how to be treated on a date but still. Yet somewhere between the shots and Edwin laughing and playing pool Charles had lost track of that. Well, not so much lost track of, just simply forgot that it mattered.

But duh it mattered! So what if he liked the way Edwin skated, the way he talked, the way he read out loud to Charles after dinner if they had time. So what if he wanted to wake up even earlier than his hockey practices just so he could run with Edwin?

So what if he wanted to kiss him?

Charles jerked back slightly at the thought. What the fuck? No that wasn’t– he wasn’t actually... Charles liked guys, that wasn’t a problem. He’d known that since he was a teen boy watching charming men steal women’s hearts in rom coms with Niko. He’d even hooked up with a fair few his first year in college, before hockey and all of his other obligations took over everything.

But Edwin?

No, that was crossing a line. They worked together. He was Crystal’s best friend; someone he was expected to get along with for an extended period of time. His skating time relied on that, and he couldn’t risk that just because he thought Edwin looked sort of kissable.

Very kissable. Extremely kissable. Like the definition of kissable.

But Charles had already improved so much since skating there, he couldn’t lose that now.

He tried to play off his literal knee-jerk reaction as him stumbling. Edwin’s hand reached out, but missed his arm as Charles forced himself to stand up straight next to him. Those two extra inches his boots gave him felt like a gift from above now.

“Knew I’d win eventually,” Charles said, trying to bring it all back. Bring back the cocky, bet-making Charles and not the lovesick, drunk, and stupid Charles. “Told you hockey players were romantic.”

Edwin hmmed in response, his eyes closing slightly until he was looking out at Charles through his eyelashes. “Well, you certainly seem romantic. I reserve the right to judge your teammates differently.”

Something twisted in Charles at the idea of Edwin and dates and his teammates. None of those things belonged in the same sentence in his mind.

There was no way in hell Edwin was going to be judging his teammates ‘romantic’ skills. He’d seen how they treated girls in the past before; he couldn’t imagine the same thing happening to Edwin.

It wasn’t like with Niko, where he thought of her as his little sister than he needed to protect, or even Crystal, who he knew had been fucked up by a guy in the past, even if she hadn’t expressly stated so. No, this was a completely different thing, one he didn’t have a name for other than jealousy or overprotectiveness or any other stupid meat-headed thing like that.

Plus, Brad might have apologized and waved it off, but his digs about Edwin or Charles being gay a few practices ago still dug deep. It shouldn’t matter to him, or anyone else what he or Edwin were, but it still burrowed under his skin until he felt like he might need tweezers to remove it.

“Well, maybe I’m just one of a kind then,” he said, trying to smile away the thought of Edwin going on a date with any of them.

Edwin tilted his head like a dog questioning something. And Charles adored that stupid, curious-dog look. It was so fucking cute he thought he might just melt under his gaze or blurt out how fond of it he was.

He closed his eyes, like that might help block it out.

“I believe you are,” Edwin said. Charles opened his eyes and gave him a questioning look. “One of a kind, that is.”

Edwin leaned forward, and Charles wasn’t sure exactly what he was going for, but either way he ended up stumbling straight into Charles and nearly took them both to the ground. Laughs bubbled out of him, so light they might as well have been made from champagne and not the tequila shots they’d had at the bar.

“Oops,” Edwin said. He tried to get his feet back under him, but it was clear it wasn’t working. Charles was amazed he’d managed to last this long with the sheer amount of alcohol he’d had.

“Let’s get you inside,” Charles said, and held his hand out for Edwin’s keys. Together they managed to sort of get it open, although the door bounced back and hit Charles in the elbow as he hauled them through the door.

“I got it,” Edwin said as he finally pulled away from Charles. He stood, definitely not as straight as he usually did, and stuck his hand out for Charles like he might shake on it. “I had a wonderful time tonight.”

Charles glanced at his hand. “Kinda weird to shake hands after a kiss, but I’ll take it,” he said, gripping his hand back.

Edwin flushed darker somehow, and God Charles really did need to see him in red one day. “Well, that was for the us on a date. This is for the… us standing here. Us,” he said, gesturing back and forth between them, like that might help explain his point better. “The real us.”

Right, because the ‘real’ them hadn’t gone on a date.

He still couldn’t help the smile he gave him. “Now that you know what a good date is like, you know what to expect from your study partner, hm?”

Edwin’s brows furrowed. “Simon?”

Charles shook his head. “No, not Simon,” Charles said, barely holding back the snarl. “The guy Niko’s seen you with.”

Edwin shook his head. “No, sorry, Charles. I meant, Simon, what are you doing here?” he asked, looking behind Charles.

Charles turned around.

Simon stood in the doorway to Edwin’s townhouse. His face was unreadable as he stared at Charles and Edwin, and Charles couldn’t help but wonder how long he had been standing there. What was he even doing there? It was late, at least past midnight.

Simon’s glare moved from Charles to Edwin, not so much softening, but becoming at least less actively hostile. “Your father is looking for you,” he said.

The words didn’t even seem to sink in for Edwin. “What?” he asked, his voice still slightly slurred.

“Your father?” Simon said, dragging out the word like Edwin was a fucking moron. Charles felt his fists clench. “He’s looking for you.”

“My father is in London,” Edwin said, still slow and drunkenly delayed.

Simon rolled his eyes. “Not anymore. He was here looking for you, and when he couldn’t find you he called me.”

Edwin shook his head, and something in Charles’s chest twisted and caught. Edwin didn’t seem to be afraid of this information, but he did seem to be in denial. It didn’t take someone with a fucked-up childhood to know when someone was avoiding their parent.

“Edwin?” Charles asked, turning to look at him. Why would Edwin’s father be in the States? And why had he contacted Simon of all people?

Edwin opened his mouth to answer but instead threw up on the hallway rug.

Notes:

So a few notes....

Yes, this was a very long chapter. But it was a birthday chapter, so I feel like that can be excused lol

It is also to make up for the fact that I will not be updating next Friday. So sorry, but after the break hockey fic should be back to being updated every Friday lol

And third, yes, the swing scene is inspired by 13 Going On 30 before you ask. It is one of my favorite romcoms, and I knew I wanted a swing scene like Monty and Edwin got in the show and so here was that mess lol!

If you made it all the way through this chapter and this note, congrats! And again, happy birthday arrow! <3 <3 <3

Chapter 12: Tell Me We're Alright, Tell Me We're Okay

Notes:

"Tell me we're alright, tell me we're okay
tell me we're alright, tell me we're okay,
You could bring down my level of concern,
just need you to tell me we're alright, tell me
we're okay,"
Level of Concern by Twenty One Pilots

Everything seemed to be in a haze after Simon’s words registered. Your father is looking for you. He should have known that this would happen. He could only ignore the man for so long before he actually turned up.

Edwin stumbled into the bathroom to rinse his mouth out and gather up some cleaning supplies, only to throw up again once he was in there.

Charles cursed under his breath, just a step behind and trying his best to direct him away from the mess and down the hall to the living room. He heard him ask Simon a couple of questions, short and tense and with far more anger than Edwin had ever really heard Charles speak in the few short months they’d known each other, but he couldn’t focus on any of that.

Not when he was trying so hard not to get sick on the floor again.

“What the fuck did you drink?” Simon muttered as he moved to the kitchen where the trash bags were stored. “I’m just going to throw that rug away. And probably the bathroom one, too.”

Edwin thought back to the wings and nachos and all the shots he’d taken and groaned. It had all seemed so good before, but now all he wanted to do was die. Couldn’t he go back to trying to impress Charles with pool and shots? He’d taken notes, there were still things he could do… He’d barely even scratched the surface of what a good date could be. He could turn this around.

Not that this was a date, but still.

Somewhere down the hall Simon gagged as he gathered up whatever mess Edwin had created to dispose of it. At least he was willing to do that for him. His father would likely be upset about the rug, but Edwin was in no position to comment on that.

“We can try and clean it,” Charles muttered, his voice quiet. Small, in a way Charles never seemed before. Charles should be loud and confident, bright like the sun or a volcano. Not quiet, subdued.

Maybe Edwin had commented on it after all.

“I’m throwing it away,” Simon said from down the hall.

Charles cursed under his breath again but made no move to stop him. Edwin couldn’t help but be grateful as he clung to him, the only thing that seemed to be stable amongst the swerving room.

“Now, you sit here, and I’ll get you some water,” Charles said. Edwin wanted to protest, to reach out and ask him to stay, but he slipped away before he could.

He thought back to the kiss on the porch, to Charles’s smile that had filled him with such warmth. A bonfire, a volcano, the sun. Burning bright enough that it even reached Edwin somehow, made him want to be reckless and kiss a pretty boy to thank him for everything, even if he knew it wasn’t real.

He wanted to go back to that moment, to live in it forever.

The TV screen was dark across from him, reflecting his sorry state back at him. Thankfully, he had managed to miss himself when he’d gotten sick earlier, but his date outfit still seemed ruined somehow.

Crystal had tried to convince him to ditch the ‘nerdy’ sweater he’d been wearing earlier in the night, but he had insisted on it. It was classy, he’d argued, when he’d slid it over his head and hid the white button down she’d insisted he wear under it.

His button down was rumpled now, one of the sleeves rolling down his arm and out of its perfect ‘pushed up’ effect he’d somehow managed to achieve in the hot and humid bar. His pants were dirty from the playground, the dark material showing brown splotches where he and Charles had sat on the ground.

And that was to say nothing of his hair. Those perfect waves Crystal had worked hard to style, rather than the slicked down style he usually wore, were less “styled” and more “crazed” looking. They almost looked like someone had run their fingers through it, and then all he could think of was what it would feel like if Charles ran his fingers through his hair, and it nearly sent him spiraling.

He closed his eyes, no longer wanting to see himself.

“Edwin?” Charles asked.

And oh God, Charles was still here.

Edwin opened his eyes, to see him standing there, hovering next to the couch where he’d sat Edwin earlier. His own outfit looked a little wrinkled, but so much better than Edwin’s overall. That concerned, worried look was back on his face, and it made Edwin’s face burn seeing it. He couldn’t tell if it was a good burning (the sun, happiness, Charles) or if it was a bad burning, the kind that meant pure embarrassment and humiliation.

Maybe the couch would swallow him if he leaned into it hard enough. His father always did like plush furniture compared to his mother’s firmer style. How it ever ended up here, he wasn’t sure.

“Here, drink this,” Charles said, handing him a bottle of water from the fridge. It was ice cold in his hands, shocking a bit of sense back into him.

He did as he was told. At least it rinsed some of the sick taste out of his mouth.

“You should go,” he said. His words were still slurred, but now it sounded sad rather than the happy blur it had been before. What he wouldn’t give to go back to even just an hour ago.

He could see Charles’s face as he debated what he should do. Should he stay here, and witness even more the shit show? Or should he leave, his fake date promise fulfilled.

Charles should leave. Before Edwin’s father got back, before Edwin did something even more embarrassing than vomit on the floor.

(He should leave because that’s what everyone did, eventually. Maybe they would come back, but they still left in the first place. And coming back didn’t mean you weren’t leaving again.)

“Where’s your phone?” Simon asked, coming back into the room and breaking through his thoughts.

Edwin reached for his pocket where he had shoved his phone earlier in the night and promptly not thought about it again. He was trying to be better about that around Charles, giving him his full attention. Crystal had pointed out before that it was “rude” to constantly be on your phone, but he couldn’t help it. Between Simon, his updates on training apps, and his father reaching out to him recently, his phone had been blowing up. Add in all the emails he was getting from Esther Finch’s agency and his own reminders for appointments and studying with Monty and he had a phone that never stopped.

But it was rude, he knew. And the last time he’d allowed himself to answer his phone in front of Charles it had all gone to shit, so he’d wanted to make sure that didn’t happen again. Plus, he’d read online that phones “ruined the date vibes” and he’d wanted to try and treat this as realistically as possible. Practice only made perfect if it was perfect practice.

It took him a couple of tries, but when he pulled out his phone he saw a million missed calls and messages. His father, Simon, Crystal. All of them increased in severity the longer they went unanswered.

Heads up, your dad called me. Didn’t answer, but I think he’s looking for you?

Edwin, dude. Your dad seriously will not stop. I know you’re on a date, but you might actually need to text him back.

EDWIN HE’S IN TOWN

Crystal was a good friend. She’d tried to warn him hours ago, and he’d not even known.

Simon had too, apparently, except he must have actually answered his father.

I’ve spoken to you father and he says he’s looking for you? Where are you?

Edwin?

I’m going to swing by. He said you weren’t there, but are you?

Where are you?

Coach King hasn’t heard from you either and the rink is locked up. Where are you?

Edwin

Alright, your father is seriously pissed.

If you don’t answer I’m going to use the key to let myself in.

Where are you?

Simon’s eyes narrowed as he watched him pull it out. “You’ve had your phone on you this entire time?” he asked. “Where were you?!”

Charles raised his hands in a placating manner. “Oi, let’s not yell,” he said, as if that was going to be enough to stop Simon.

Simon jerked his head towards Charles, his eyes narrowing even further. “What’re you even doing here, Rowland?” he asked.

Charles dropped his hands to his side, also glaring at Simon. “Nothing,” he said, which was a flat out lie. “What’re you doing here?”

Simon stepped forward, like he might somehow intimidate him. “I told you; Edwin’s father is looking for him–” he leaned down and snatched Edwin’s phone from his hand, shaking it in Charles’s face, “and he wasn’t even bothering to answer anyone’s messages!”

Something dark rolled over Charles’s face. “Don’t do that,” he said. And Edwin wasn’t sure what he meant at first, his brain too intoxicated to keep up. It was a surprise then, when he realized it wasn’t about shaking something in Charles’s face, but the grabbing of his phone.

“Or what?” Simon asked, leaning back and holding Edwin’s phone away from them as if he were a schoolyard bully. It seemed ridiculous for Simon to try and bully Charles. While they weren’t that far off in height, and Simon certainly worked out and could even lift Edwin with ease, it seemed doubtful that he would have any luck when it came to actually fighting Charles.

“Or I’ll make you,” Charles said, stepping forward. His legs brushed up against Edwin’s knees, and all Edwin wanted to do was fold over and wrap his arms around him. Instead, he leaned forward and buried his face in his hands as if that might somehow block out how stupid they were being.

The two of them stopped talking. Edwin could feel their eyes burning into him, but he resisted the urge to look up again. If he did, he might be sick or they might start yelling again, and he didn’t want to deal with either one.

“What on Earth is going on here?”

Edwin felt every part of his body tense up and freeze. His father.

Slowly, he turned his head towards where the living room met the hall. His father stood there– not hovering, because William Payne did not hover, but maybe loomed? Loomed seemed like a good word. A solid word. A word his father would likely not approve of if he knew it was being used in relation to him but couldn’t disagree that’s what he was doing.

That was not the point, however.

“Sir,” Simon said, trying for a formal address.

His father’s eyes shifted to Simon, quickly scanning over him before turning to look at Charles. “Who are you?” he asked.

Edwin could see Charles shift back slightly, his spine straightening as he forced himself into a better posture. Edwin didn’t like it, didn’t like how it made Charles take a step back from him, made him look like someone else.

“Charles Rowland,” he answered, his voice unusually flat. Respectful, Edwin might have called it on another day, but after seeing Charles talk to everyone at the rink and charm his way through the bar earlier, he knew that it wasn’t that. It was detached, removed. Unlike Charles.

It dug and scratched at Edwin’s brain in a way that didn’t make sense, but he didn’t like it.

“That means nothing to me,” his father said, and Edwin winced.

Charles cleared his throat. “I’m a friend of Edwin’s.”

His father looked from him back to Edwin, as if he were trying to make those pieces fit. When was the last time someone had claimed to be a friend of his? Other than Crystal or Simon, that was.

“Are you a figure skater, too?” he asked, glancing between the three of them.

Charles shook his head. “No, sir. I play hockey at the college.”

His father nodded, jutting his chin out for a second. “Hockey, hm? Pretty rough sport.”

No one said anything. Subtly, Simon slid Edwin his phone, which he squeezed nearly to death between his fingers. He was thankful that Charles’s bruises had faded, leaving no trace that they had ever even been there. He couldn’t imagine what his father would have to say about those.

“Well, Charles, I’m not sure if you’re aware, but it’s quite late. So, I’d really appreciate it if everyone who doesn’t live here, would leave. Now,” he said.

Simon and Charles glanced at each other. Edwin wanted to ask one of them, both of them even, despite how much it was obvious they hated each other, to please stay, but he knew that would be embarrassing. Better to deal with this head on and without an audience.

“That wasn’t a request,” his father snapped when no one moved.

“Night, Edwin,” Simon said, clapping him on the shoulder. He hated the way it jostled him, turning his stomach as he was pushed forward. He couldn’t throw up though, not now. Not in front of his father.

Charles watched as Simon turned to leave, bidding the elder Payne a goodnight as well. “I’ll text you when I get home,” Charles said. And Edwin remembered another night, when he’d asked Charles to do that and he never had.

But he had called him. He’d called him and that short, two-minute ramble about how he was out at the bar and all he wanted to do was be skating with him or studying with him or how all the songs reminded him of him had turned into the two most important minutes of his life. Even with the comparison to moving like butter.

He hoped it was none of the sad songs that had played at the bar tonight, but still. Even if it was, he'd take it just to know that Charles had been out with his friends, people he chose to be around, and still thought of Edwin.

Edwin could have died happy if those were the last two minutes he ever spoke to Charles, even if Charles didn’t remember them.

“Don’t bother,” his father said, cutting through his thoughts. “Edwin is going to shower and go straight to bed.”

Like he was a real father. Like he’d ever cared if Edwin showered or went to bed or texted someone or any other number of things that parents were supposed to care about.

Charles still stared at Edwin, his eyes asking him a question that Edwin couldn’t decipher or even begin to answer.

“Goodnight, Charles,” he said, looking away from that gaze and back down to the phone in his hands.

Charles left.

His father followed him out. Edwin wanted to follow them, to hear exactly what it was his father said to him as he shut and locked the door, but he couldn’t make his body get up. He was tired and drunk and so exhausted all he wanted to do was sleep.

“Oh, don’t sleep on me now,” his father said when he came back into the room. “You were having such a fun time before. Time to deal with the consequences.”

Edwin bit back a groan as he peeled his eyes open to look at his father. It really was like looking in a mirror, except where Edwin had slender lines of muscle from skating, his father was more solid, closer to a rock that couldn’t be moved. He’d never understood the point of skating, instead being much more a rugby man “back in his day” as he referred to it, and Edwin knew his father had hoped he would be too when he got older.

He hadn’t, obviously.

“Where is it?” his father asked. He held out his hand, like Edwin already knew what he was supposed to give him.

Which he did. He dug his wallet out and dropped his fake ID in his father’s hand. He had another one, although he liked his picture on that one significantly less, and he wasn’t entirely sure where it was currently. Maybe at Crystal’s? Or in her desk at the rink?

“This is ridiculous,” his father said, bending the ID until it snapped. “You are nineteen years old, Edwin. It’s time you grew up.”

Edwin stared at his shoes. He should have taken them off at the door, they were dirty from the bar and the walk. And the playground.

Maybe he should grow up.

“Do you know how many times I called you?” his father continued on, either uncaring or not even noticing that Edwin wasn’t listening. “I couldn’t reach you; I couldn’t reach Crystal. Simon is the only one with any common sense around here and look what you did! You made him spend half the night searching this God-forsaken city for you.”

He hadn’t asked Simon to do that. In fact, he most certainly hadn’t wanted Simon to do that. He had been fine, running around through the city with Charles. His father was right; he was an adult. He should be allowed to go out if he wanted.

“What are we even paying that coach for if this is how you’re going to act?” he asked.

Edwin jerked his head up. “You’re not paying for him. I am,” he said.

His father glared at him. “With money that was provided by me.”

Edwin shook his head, the alcohol removing some of his barriers. “Provided by Mother. Not you.”

His father turned an angry red. “It is the same thing, Edwin.” He stepped forward, and Edwin felt some of the fire go out of him. “It is a waste of money either way. You should be spending your time focusing on school and your future. Not skating or–or drinking with random boys.”

Edwin stared at the floor like he might be able to disappear into the fibers of the living room rug. If he could go back, even an hour, he would. He’d walk Charles home instead or go to Crystal’s or Niko’s or hell, even Monty’s dorm just to avoid this conversation. Even if it was only until the morning when he was more sober.

“Go,” his father said, waving him away. “Shower that disgusting smell off you and go to bed. We’ll talk in the morning.”

Edwin nodded. It would have been pointless to fight it anyways.

He trudged upstairs, barely remembering to kick his shoes off by the front door as he did so. His father’s suitcase was next to the door, a familiar and yet unwelcome sight. At least it was small, meaning he likely wasn’t planning to stay for long.

How had he missed it when he’d stumbled in? He must have also been the one to turn the porch light on, as well.

Showering while drunk was difficult. He’d only been drunk a handful of times before with Crystal, but he usually crashed before he had to do something like this.

The steam at least helped to clear his head as he stood under the hot water, letting it soak down deep into his bones. He scrubbed at his eyes, washing away the faint amount of eye makeup Crystal had applied to make his lashes seem longer and fuller, and tried to wash the smell of Max’s off his skin.

By the time he was sufficiently clean, he felt a little more like himself. And a lot more embarrassed.

What college age person had their father come home and kick everyone out? It’s not even like his father actually lived there; the house was usually empty more than eight months out of the year.

But his father’s name was on it, he supposed.

He stumbled from the bathroom to his room, thankfully avoiding any more run-ins with his father. It sounded like he was in the kitchen, although Edwin couldn’t imagine what he would be doing down there.

Hopefully not discovering the rug Simon had thrown away.

He closed the room to his room, navigating the dark by memory alone. His hand bumped against the edge of the bed, and he collapsed in it, towel and all. He knew he should probably get up and get dressed, but he couldn’t find the motivation to do so.

His phone lit up, brightening his room.

He pulled it closer to his face, reading the message that had just come through.

Made it home

Charles had remembered to text him.

You should brush your teeth. And sleep with a bucket next to you

And drink that water i gave you

Good night edwin

Tears welled in Edwin’s eyes. Before he could second guess himself, he pressed the call button.

“Edwin?” Charles asked, immediately answering. He sounded worried, like something might have happened in the ten minutes since he’d last seen him.

Edwin felt like his tongue had been tied. Why had he even called him? This was stupid. He should go to sleep.

“Just wanted to say ‘night,” Edwin said, keeping his voice quiet. The last thing he wanted was for his father to come upstairs and find him on the phone. He’d probably take that away just because “he paid for it,” too.

The other end was quiet. It was quiet for so long that Edwin thought he might have hung up.

“Are you alright?” Charles asked. And Edwin wanted to cry again.

“Yeah,” he said, the word sounding funny to his own ears. “But will you stay on the phone with me?”

There was a strange noise from the other end of the line. Was that a door opening? Maybe Charles had literally just gotten home.

“Edwin,” he said, his voice serious. “Do you need me to come back?”

That was a hard question. Because if Charles had simply asked ‘do you need me’ it would have been a resounding, ‘yes.’ Because Edwin did need him. He wasn’t sure why or how, but somehow in just a few short months, Charles had dug into his skin in a way he didn’t quite understand.

It made no sense. He hadn’t felt like he’d needed someone this much since he and Crystal were kids. And look at how well that had ended.

Still, this felt different. He didn’t just want Charles around because he was his best friend, like Crystal. He wanted him around because he wanted him, in any way, shape, or form that he would let him.

But Charles hadn’t asked that. He had asked if he needed him to come back. And it was late, and his father was downstairs.

No. It was better if he stayed away.

“No,” Edwin said, hoping that his voice sounded stronger than it felt. “But can we stay on the phone? Just until I fall asleep?”

Once again there was silence on the other end. Finally, Charles broke it. “Yeah. Yeah, mate, we can do that,” he said. Another door closed and then Edwin could hear music start up somewhere on Charles’s end of the line. It was soft, hardly even noticeable as Charles puttered around his room.

“Want me to talk?” Charles asked.

Edwin shrugged before he remembered Charles couldn’t see it. He let out a noise he was sure sounded like ‘I don’t know,’ and hoped Charles understood it.

“Okay,” Charles said. He didn’t start talking, however. Instead, he mumbled along to whatever song was playing, a quiet rumble of sounds that lured Edwin straight to sleep.

XXX

Breakfast the next morning was a quiet affair. When his alarm had gone off at five in the morning, only a couple of hours after he’d managed to fall asleep, Edwin had expected his father to still be in bed.

It would seem his father remembered his schedule well, however.

The coffee pot finished right as he was walking in. His father sat at the island, his laptop already on and open. It reminded him of countless mornings spent at home, his father scrolling through business emails and the like while Edwin readied himself for practice or school or whatever else he might have had going on that day.

When his father was home, of course.

“Sit,” he said. Edwin slid into the seat across from him winching at the scrape it gave across the tile as it did so. Everything seemed so loud and so bright in the early morning hours.

Perhaps it was the hangover. Or maybe he was still drunk.

His father said nothing as Edwin sat there, waiting for judgment. He felt like a prisoner awaiting his sentence, praying for a different verdict.

It would seem his father was in no hurry to give him one. Instead, he sipped his coffee and answered a few more emails, the silence dragging on and on between them. The urge to go back to sleep sitting there at the counter was so strong he had to squeeze his thumbnails into his palms to keep himself awake.

Eventually, his father shut his laptop and turned his attention towards him. “Where were you last night?” he asked.

Edwin opened his mouth and then closed it. “Out with a friend,” he said eventually.

His father stared at him, investigating every part of his expression. There was a reason his father was a brilliant lawyer: his ability to see through the bullshit when he actually wanted to.

“A friend?” he asked. “And this would be that Charles Rowland?”

Edwin nodded.

His father mirrored him. “Charles Rowland. Age 21. Also from London. Father Paul Rowland, mother Mary Rowland,” he listed, glancing at his phone. “Attended St. Hilarion’s School for Boys. Wow, that is impressive. You were supposed to go there, you know.”

Edwin shrank. His education was always a sore subject, and one that never failed to make his parents fight. His father had believed that he should attend school like most other children and have a center for his learning.

His mother had encouraged private teachers and lessons. She’d argued that with all the moving they did for his training and competitions it only made sense. He would miss too many days in a “traditional” school setting, and besides, he spent half the year in the States, anyways. It made no sense for him to attend a “regular” school.

His father had only seen that as more of a reason to end his skating.

“Enrolled three years ago on a four-year athletic scholarship. A ‘winger’-- whatever that is, on the hockey team. No trouble with the law.”

Edwin wanted to cover his head, to hide away in his arms. But he knew what his father would say about that, so instead he stared at the countertop and prayed he would be done quickly.

“Seems like a nice kid,” his father said. Edwin knew better than to believe it. “But we all know about ‘nice’ kids.”

And there it was.

“He is nice,” he said. Mumbled really, and then, because he knew his father would demand he repeat himself anyways, he did it of his own free will. “He is nice.”

He could feel his father’s gaze on him, still watching him like a hawk. “How’s school going?” he asked.

The question came out of nowhere. It was one of his father’s favorite tactics. Get your back up about something and then come around at you from the other side. “Well. It’s going well.”

He nodded. “Good. Because I would hate to hear that your skating and… friendship was getting in the way of your schooling.”

Edwin looked away.

“And how’s Crystal doing?” he asked. “Her parents said she wanted to do something crazy, like reopen that old rink? She always was a bit out there, huh?”

Edwin’s mouth felt too dry. He should have listened to Charles when he said to drink his water last night. But that would have required coming downstairs where his father had been, and he couldn’t have done that.

“She actually has reopened the rink,” Edwin said, feeling the need to defend her. His mother and father had actually always liked Crystal and her family, despite their… offbeat personalities as his mother had once referred to it.

His father usually just called her rude.

“Simon mentioned that. He said he stopped by there looking for you last night and you weren’t there,” his father said. “I take it you’re there pretty often?”

Edwin nodded. This wouldn’t be a surprise to his father.

He picked some invisible lint off his shirt. “And this Charles? Is he there, too?”

Edwin felt his throat tighten. “Charles works there. Sometimes.”

“Well, does he work there or not? Sometimes doesn’t make any sense,” he said.

Edwin swallowed. “He works there.”

His father nodded. He probably already knew that, too.

That was the thing about his father. When he actually cared enough to do so, he was a very attentive person. That was part of what made him so good at his job.

But he’d never actually cared much about Edwin before.

Not until he’d moved across the ocean and started skating again. He knew his father had figured he was done with the sport after… everything that had happened and had already been planning for him to try and move more into the “family business,” but Edwin had obviously had other plans.

Now it would seem some of that attention had turned back on him. For now, at least. It would only be a matter of time before another thing distracted him– a pretty woman, a more interesting trial, literally anything that wasn’t actually parenting his own child.

Not that Edwin needed to be parented. He was nineteen-fucking-years-old and had made it that long without him or his mother. He could handle this himself.

“Well, far be it from me to tell her how to run her business,” he said. “But one of her employees getting one of her potential, Olympic level athlete clients drunk is not a good look for her. An underage one at that.”

Edwin jutted his chin out, not liking the implications. “I am only underage here. I would be fine back in London.”

His father jabbed a finger at him. “But we’re not in London, Edwin. We’re here. Where you wanted to go to school. And even if we were, getting trashed at some shitty bar is not how you go to the Olympics. I thought you were serious about this,” his father practically hissed at him.

He opened his mouth to answer him, but it felt like his throat was coated in sand and clogged. His eyes watered, completely against his will, and he closed his mouth and bit the inside of his cheek to keep from doing something embarrassing like sobbing.

“I do,” Edwin said quietly when he thought he might not cry.

His father leaned back, his arms crossed over his chest. And for the first time since Edwin was a child he wished his mother was there. She wouldn’t stop anything, in fact she would likely only make it worse, but at least there would be someone else in the room who didn’t think his dreams of skating were complete bullshit.

“You’ve got a funny way of showing it,” his father said. “Which is why I’m telling you now: drop the skating. Get serious about school. If you want to be treated like an adult, then start acting like one.”

Against his will, Edwin found himself nodding along to his father’s words. The idea of giving up skating sounded as insane as– as chopping off an arm or blinding himself. And he was serious about school. Edwin had never met anyone more serious about school than himself.

But his father did have a point. He had been slacking off lately. Going home earlier, hanging out with Crystal and Niko and Charles, even studying with Monty and Simon was more an exercise in social situations than actual studying. All of that time was better spent either practicing or doing schoolwork, he could agree with that.

Edwin’s phone chirped, one of his apps reminding him about his run just on the off chance he had fallen back asleep.

His father eyed it rather pointedly. His father believed phones were like children, never seen and never heard from. Unless it was his own phone, then he could take as many calls or texts as he liked.

“Go. Go for your run,” he said. “I have meetings all day, but I expect you to be home for dinner.”

Who even had meetings on Sunday? His father, of course.

Edwin nodded numbly. It’s not like he had any plans that would have mattered anyways, he was sure Charles would never want to speak to him again after this.

He grabbed his DRAGONS hoodie from the hall closet and slipped on his running shoes. Maybe a run was exactly what he needed, something to get his mind right. It wasn’t the same as skating, but he doubted he’d have much luck getting to the rink while his father was in town.

He opened the door and nearly screamed when he saw Simon standing on the other side, dressed and ready to go for a run.

His hand was still raised as if he might be gearing up to knock. “Sorry. Just thought I’d check if you wanted to go on your run.”

Edwin stepped out onto the porch and shoved Simon in the chest. He made sure to firmly shut the door behind him but not slam it. Never slam it, because his father thought that made him look weak showing that much emotion towards an inanimate object.

Simon stumbled backwards, although Edwin imagined it was more from the shock of the push and not the force. “What the fuck?” he asked, his voice a rather loud whisper of disbelief.

“I cannot believe you spoke to my father,” Edwin said. All of the rage he had felt incapable of feeling last night bubbled up in him, threatening to burst out from under the surface.

But there was nowhere for it to go. Screaming and raging at Simon wouldn’t help. Neither would being upset at his father. He couldn’t even skate to get the tension out until his father left.

Simon adjusted his stance, moving into position like he might need to physically lift Edwin.

If he tried it, he was a dead man.

“I spoke to him because he was worried,” Simon said. Edwin scoffed and brushed past him, marching down the walkway to the sidewalk. Edwin had never once known his father to be truly worried for him, not even when he and Crystal had managed to sneak off to the States for a few weeks when they were kids.

“He was! And so was I. You weren’t answering your phone, no one knew where you were,” Simon said, practically chasing after him.

“It’s not a crime to not answer my phone,” Edwin said, finally allowing his voice to rise now that they were away from his front door. No need for his father to overhear any of this. “Besides, Crystal knew exactly where I was.”

Which wasn’t true, but she had at least known who he was with. It’s not like he had pulled a Crystal and ran off with the newest, most interesting person just because he was bored.

Edwin mentally slapped himself. That was being unfair to Crystal, and not who he was angry with. She had tried to warn him, after all.

“Oh what a fucking ringing endorsement, Edwin,” Simon said. He spread his arms wide, making himself bigger than he actually was. “I guess if fucking Crystal knew where you were then it’s fine.”

Edwin jabbed a finger at him. “Don’t you dare act like any of this is her fault,” he warned. Immediately, he spun on his heels and started jogging down the street. He should have warmed up, stretched, hell maybe even thrown up again since his stomach was churning, or done literally anything else to prepare for this run, but there wasn’t time. He just wanted to leave all of this behind and forget that any of it had even happened.

Perhaps Crystal had had the right idea all those years ago.

Unfortunately, it would seem Simon was warmed up, and ready to keep pace with him for once.

“Isn’t it though?” Simon asked. “She’s the one who brought that guy around. She’s the one who got you your fake ID. I bet she’s the one who even dressed you up for your date, huh?”

Edwin ground his teeth together so hard he was afraid they might snap. He stopped, hardly even caring about where he was when he did so and turned so Simon had no choice but to face him. “‘That guy’ has a name and it is Charles. Which I know you know. And you also have a fake ID, if memory serves me.” He narrowed his eyes, glaring even harder at him. “And it wasn’t a date.”

It wasn’t. It hadn’t been a date, no matter what Edwin might have started to feel for Charles. A date would mean something. A date would mean that he had let Charles in and gotten too close and while there might be some chance that Charles returned those feelings, Edwin didn’t have the time or energy to deal with all of it.

“Oh yeah?” Simon asked, moving even closer. “Sure looked like a date. Is that why you kissed him?” He jabbed Edwin in the chest. “Is that why he got you drunk? So you’d be fucking ea–”

Edwin shoved him. Hard. Never in all his years of knowing Simon had he ever physically fought back like this before. But he was done. All of this– blaming Crystal, accusing Charles, acting like Edwin was stupid– he was done with it.

Simon was ready for it, unfortunately, despite the fact that even Edwin hadn’t been. He hardly moved, only taking a step backwards before shoving Edwin in return.

Edwin, despite having been the one to start this, wasn’t ready for it. He stumbled backwards and off the curb, the rough asphalt rushing up to meet him. At the last second he managed to put his hands out to catch himself, trying hard to ignore the way his whole body seemed to jar with the sudden stop.

“Oh fuck,” Simon said, and rushed towards him, all of the fight seeming to have gone out of him. He put his hands on Edwin’s shoulder, trying to lean around and catch a glimpse at his face. He seemed as if he were genuinely afraid. “Are you okay?”

Edwin’s palms were scraped, a familiar, unwelcome feeling after years of falling on the ice. But his wrist, his wrist burned. He tried to push himself up and away from Simon, but he only succeeded in causing more pain to shoot through his wrist.

“Fuck,” Edwin muttered under his breath. It wasn’t broken, he knew that much, but it still hurt.

“We should get that looked at,” Simon said, reaching for his wrist as if he were going to cradle it. Edwin jerked back, which hurt it more, but at least Simon wasn’t touching it anymore.

“It’s fine,” Edwin muttered. “I simply landed on it wrong.”

Still, Simon didn’t give up. “Don’t be stupid, we both know how dangerous landing wrong can be.”

Red smears so startlingly red they almost looked like paint, not blood. The burn of something, somewhere being wrong but he couldn’t figure out what. Ice biting into his skin as he tried to make sense of things.

No, that was before. This was metal, creaking and loud and wrong and also bloody.

They both did, didn’t they?

Edwin pulled himself up, refusing to let Simon even think about helping him. “I said it was fine,” Edwin hissed. “I do not need your help, nor did I ask for it. Not now, not last night,” he stood to his full height, almost meeting Simon’s eyes. “So please, fuck off.”

Simon leaned back. “Really? After all I did for you?”

Edwin couldn’t help but let out a bitter laugh. “After all you did for me?” Edwin said, his voice high pitched and bordering on crazed. He knew they were getting into dangerous territory, the type that you needed spotlights and sirens to navigate.

“Yeah. I didn’t see anyone else holding your hand while you fucking relearned to skate,” he snarled. “Or calling the ambulance to save your fucking life.”

Edwin flinched. Simon’s expression grew just a bit more hateful. “But if you want to act like this is normal– that this is you, then go ahead. But the Edwin I know wouldn’t be wasting all of his hard work training by going out and getting drunk with some fucking moronic hockey player.”

He shoulder checked Edwin as he brushed past him, clearly intending to go back towards his own townhouse. “Fucking call me when you actually want to take this shit seriously. And get that wrist looked at, the last thing we need is you breaking another bone.”

Something sank deep down into Edwin’s bones as he watched Simon walk away. He didn’t want to call him back, in fact, he’d be so ecstatic if he didn’t have to talk to him for the rest of the year. But he couldn’t help but wonder if what he’d said was true.

Edwin was taking this seriously. He’d always taken this seriously. Was it really such a crime to go out and get drunk once while on a “date?” To eat bullshit bar food and run through a rain-soaked city with a cute boy?

It’s not like it would ruin his training. Not really. There were people who did far worse than he had, and they seemed to be doing just fine.

Then again, look at where it had gotten him. He was late to start running, his wrist was sore, and he just pissed off his training partner. First his father, now Simon, who was next? Charles? Crystal?

God help him if he ever pissed off Niko.

He couldn’t go back home, not knowing that his father was sitting there, likely waiting for him to give up and admit defeat with his minimal sleep and growing headache from his hangover.

He would rather drop dead right then and there than go through that.

Instead, he held his wrist to his chest and went to the only other place he knew he’d be able to get into, even without a call beforehand.

Thankfully Crystal’s place wasn’t too far.

XXX

Edwin let himself into Crystal’s apartment just as the sun was starting to rise. Any other day he might have taken a moment to at least acknowledge the sun coming up just over the horizon, but this morning he was too tired, all of his emotions wrung out and exhausted.

He hung the spare key up next to the door, trying to remind himself to replace it later. His own set of keys and wallet had all been left behind at his place, likely wherever drunk Edwin had dropped them coming in the door.

Edwin moved slowly through the apartment, trying his hardest to not wake Crystal. She never did very well with being woken up earlier, after all. He could still remember her threatening to smother him with a pillow as a child because his alarms went off so early for training.

With more force than he meant to, he collapsed onto the couch, the air rushing out of him in a whoosh. His wrist throbbed, reminding him that he should at least get some ice on it or something, but he was too tired. If he could just sleep now then he could worry about all of that later.

“Jesus, Edwin,” Crystal said from the doorway as she flipped on the living room light. “I could have killed you.”

Edwin looked up at her, not daring to move any part of his body other than his eyes to do so. He didn’t need to shift from his facedown position at all to see that she was clutching a baseball in her hands, glaring at him.

Her expression shifted, the anger falling away quickly as she set the bat down. “Whoa, hey. What’s wrong with you?” she asked. Immediately, she crossed the room, gently sitting down next to his head, hovering her hands over him.

“Nothing,” he said. Then a moment later he corrected himself. “Everything.”

Crystal bit her lip. “Is this about the date?” she asked, and Edwin cringed so hard it jostled his wrist, which only made him flinch more.

“Edwin, what the fuck?” she asked. “I need you to talk to me.”

Talking was the last thing he wanted to do. Crystal was supposed to be asleep, not demanding answers from him. Couldn’t they do this all later? Perhaps when he had more than two hours of sleep and something with caffeine in his system?

Keep it together, Edwin thought. More like begged himself, if he was honest.

“Did… did something happen on your date?” Crystal asked. There was so much trepidation in her tone it practically dripped from her words, heavy enough to fall down and drown him in his spot below her on the couch.

“It wasn’t a date,” Edwin said. Said because he definitely didn’t snap or whine or anything else he felt like doing at the moment.

“Edwin,” Crystal said, harsh enough that he had to actually look up at her. “What happened?”

Slowly he eased himself up, making sure to not put any pressure on his wrist. Already the pain was significantly less than it had been when he’d first fallen, but he didn’t want to irritate it any more than it already was. Not with his first competition coming up in just a couple of weeks.

“Did…” She trailed off and let out a sharp, short breath. He could feel her eyes searching over him, catching on the dark circles he was sure were under his eyes and the way he was holding his wrist. “Did Charles…”

Edwin shot the rest of the way up. “What? No. Crystal it… No. Charles was the picture perfection of what a date should be.”

What was with people implying things about Charles? First his father then Simon and now Crystal? Did everyone think he was truly too stupid to be able to judge whether or not Charles was a good person, a safe person? What was it that people were missing about Charles?

He had questioned it before, he wouldn’t deny that. But that was obviously before he’d spent more time with him. When he had just assumed that he was just like all the other hockey players he had come across, thick skulled and cruel just because they could be.

The chances of Edwin simply tripping over his own feet during his date were probably higher than the chance of Charles ever harming him in that way. Especially once he considered how much he had to drink last night.

But Crystal didn’t know that. All she knew was her friend had come stumbling in, hurt after a night out with a boy.

It reminded him of David. Of Crystal sneaking out to be with him or partying with him at all those dodgy locations. How Edwin had known David had hurt her, but she’d refused to tell him anything until it had blown up into a fight so extreme he had been sure they would never speak again.

Until his accident. Until Edwin’s life had been in danger and his life’s work all but surely over. She’d showed up, tears in her eyes, and said that she and David were done for good, no matter what. For real this time, not just for now.

The tension drained from Crystal so suddenly it looked as if she had deflated. Her relief was almost a physical presence as she sank back into the couch. “I didn’t think so but thank God. Then what did happen?” she asked.

Edwin told her. About how the “date” had gone wrong, and they’d ended up at the bar instead. How he’d drank more than he should have because he wanted to be fun and carefree (just like one should be on a date, although he didn’t say that part to Crystal), and how he hadn’t even noticed all of his missed calls or texts. How his father had been so determined to find him he’d enlisted Simon to try and find him.

How Simon had shown up when Charles was there, although a good portion of that was hazy at best and seasick at worst.

How his father had shown up after that. And of course he’d been on his usual kick of ‘quit skating, you’re embarrassing us,’ except now he also thought Edwin was wasting all of his time getting wasted and running around with other men.

And Simon, of course, showing up that morning. He left out exactly what he’d said about Crystal and Charles, not wanting to rehash that as well, but that they’d had an ‘altercation’ that had led to him falling on his wrist.

“He pushed you?” Crystal asked, somehow the only thing she had been able to take away from this whole thing.

“Well, after I pushed him, yes.”

Crystal shook her head. “I’m sure you had a good reason. I’ve never seen you actually go after him like that. Not even when he deserved it.”

She held her hands out for his wrist and he let her look at it. It was a bit swollen, but that was to be expected. “Only you could sprain your wrist falling off a curb. You spend all day jumping and falling on the ice and it’s a curb that does it?”

Edwin pulled his hand back, wincing at the movement. Crystal’s eyes missed nothing, however, and she got up to get him some ice.

“So that’s why you’re here at… fuck, Edwin, it’s not even seven in the morning.” Crystal sighed as she came back over to the couch. “Did you even sleep last night?”

He shook his head. He had technically, but it had been miserable at best.

“Did you eat breakfast?”

Edwin shook his head again. “My father was in the kitchen this morning, waiting to lecture me.”

“Of course he was,” Crystal muttered under her breath.

Crystal wrapped her arms around him, and Edwin wanted to hate it. He wished he was seventeen and bitter and angry with everyone around him again so he could shove her off and act like none of this mattered.

“You can stay here,” she said. But she didn’t need to. Edwin already knew that he would forever have a spot at her place open, just like she would at his.

“You just want me to cook for you,” he said and acted as if he wasn’t sniffling into her shoulder.

“Why, so you can try and burn the house down again?” she asked with a quiet laugh.

“When did I try to burn the house down?” he asked. He pulled back to get a better look at her, quickly swiping a hand across his eyes. It was stupid, nothing worth crying over had happened. His father had said some variation of his speech countless times before, and it wasn’t rare for Simon to be bitter about something.

It was new for him to throw Edwin’s accident and Simon’s support during it back in his face. What was next? That Simon had called the ambulance that saved him? As if Edwin hadn’t spent years correcting his form and skills to get him where he was now.

“Uh, the ramen? You didn’t put water in it.,” Crystal said, snapping his attention back to her.

Edwin blinked. “When we were seven?” He blinked again. “Crystal, that was you.”

She laughed. “No, I think that was you. It was definitely at your house.”

Right, it had been. All he could remember was the smoke alarm going off and panicking. Meanwhile, Crystal had reached up, grabbed the burning, flaming pot from the stove and threw it outside to get the smoke out.

It had burned one of his mother’s rose bushes before he’d managed to get a hose to put it out. His father had been so upset he didn’t speak to Edwin for a week except to point out how exceptionally stupid that decision had been.

His mother had driven him to all of his skating practices that week. And Crystal’s parents at least had the decency to teach her how to use the fire extinguisher after that.

“Do you know how embarrassing it was to have my father show up? To have Simon show up with Charles standing in my home?” he asked.

“Embarrassing because you didn’t want Charles to see them, or embarrassing because you didn’t want them to see Charles?” she asked.

Edwin fidgeted. “Charles was not embarrassing,” he said. “It was… me. My father and Simon were right; I was acting like a fool last night.”

Who else went out and got drunk when they could have been practicing? Who else went out and ran through the rain and mud and played on swings when they should have been studying?

Who else agreed to go on a fake date with a boy who was way out of his league?

Crystal punched his arm. Hard. “Bullshit. That’s bullshit and you know it.”

Edwin said nothing. Fine, perhaps he was being too hard on himself. But he was tired and hungover and all he really wanted to do was curl up and sleep without anyone else looking for him.

“Go to sleep,” she said, ruffling his already ruffled hair. “Just looking at you is making me tired.”

Edwin shifted until he was spread out along her couch, his feet tucked up behind her. Not in her lap, because he knew she would hate that, but behind her where he could keep them warm, just like when they were little kids again.

“Don’t wake me up,” Edwin said. “I do not care who comes looking for me.”

She rolled her eyes. “So fucking dramatic. Just go to sleep.”

He closed his eyes and everything immediately started to drift away. He thought about Charles and his smile, the way his voice had sounded as he’d talked on the phone last night, occasionally telling Edwin what he was doing or the song that was playing. Crystal shifted, her weight falling more securely across his feet that were always aching from his skates, and he could hear the sound of her tapping on her phone.

It was impossible to tell how long he’d been asleep when he heard the front door open.

“Shh,” Crystal whispered. “He’s asleep right now.”

“Should we come back?” Niko asked, her voice far too loud despite still being a whisper.

Edwin turned his face to press it down into the couch. Great, so he was interrupting Crystal’s plans with Niko now. Add that to one more thing Edwin Payne was fucking up lately.

“But he’s okay, yeah?” Charles asked, and a bolt of electricity went through Edwin. “He’s not answering his phone, and after last night…”

There was a pause, and Edwin could almost see the look on Crystal’s face, even without seeing her. “I mean, he’s feeling pretty sucky. But yeah, he’s okay.”

“He can also hear you,” Edwin groaned. “And would love it if you would be quiet.”

There was another pause before he heard the three of them walk into the room. He forced himself up into a sitting position, acutely aware of how awful he must look at this moment. No sleep, hair ruffled, headache raging so hard he thought he thought he might go insane.

He winced as he put pressure on his wrist, forgetting for a moment how tender it was. He could see the moment Charles’s eyes landed on it, zeroing in as if it were a homing beacon.

“I’ll get you another ice pack,” Crystal said, and held her hand out of the melted mess that had slid onto the floor at some point. “Niko, why don’t you… help me.”

Niko looked for all the world like she might protest this for a moment, before Crystal grabbed her hand and dragged her away to the kitchen.

Edwin tried his best to regain some dignity by sitting up straight. He adjusted his hoodie, as if that might make it more acceptable that he was even wearing it in the first place, and moved to allow Charles to sit down as well.

He did, his eyes never leaving Edwin.

“Are you okay?” Charles asked. “You didn’t answer your phone today, and I–” He glanced down to his wrist, which was still swollen and already starting to bruise.

That was the thing about being as pale as Edwin, his bruises showed so easily, even when they weren’t bad.

“I am… hungover, I believe,” Edwin said. At least he no longer felt like he might be sick, although that might have changed if he’d gone on his morning run like he was supposed to. “But alright.” He reached into his hoodie pocket and came up empty. “And it seems that I have left my phone at home.”

The last place he could remember it was on the kitchen counter across from his father. Had he grabbed it then?

Charles let out a small, almost sad chuckle. “Right, yeah, that explains it.” Still, his eyes seemed stuck on his wrist. “And how did that happen?”

Edwin was getting tired of people asking him this question. And any other question, if he were honest. “Being stupid,” he said.

Charles’s jaw tightened, and Edwin could see the muscle twitch. “Did–” he cut himself off and looked towards the ceiling. It was like he was gearing himself up to ask an impossible question. “When I left last night did…Did someone do that?”

Edwin looked at his wrist, not comprehending what Charles could possibly mean. Who could have possibly done this to him last night? The only people around had been him and his father. Plus, Edwin didn’t know what time exactly he’d fallen asleep at, but he did know that Charles had stayed on the phone with him for a while even after he’d managed to do so.

“No, I did it this morning. Falling off a curb,” he said. Which was partially true, he supposed, and a much less… .in depth story.

“You tripped?” Charles asked, disbelief in his tone.

“People do this every day,” Edwin said. “Why is that such a hard thing to believe?”

Agitation seemed to move through Charles. “Because I’ve seen you. You don’t just trip.”

“He fought Simon this morning,” Crystal said, stepping back into the room with a look that clearly said ‘well, if you aren’t going to tell him…’

“What!?” Charles asked. His whole body tensed as he looked back and forth between Edwin and Crystal, who held her hands up. “What happened?”

Edwin sighed and tried to sink into Crystal’s couch. For the second time in less than twelve hours he wished he could just disappear into some cushions and never come back out.

“Edwin?” Crystal asked, cocking an eyebrow at him.

“Fought is a strong word for what occurred. I am thinking more... Disagreement.”

A fight implied such strong connotations. Not childish shoves on a street corner.

Niko leaned over the couch. “Disagreement that led to a sprained wrist?”

Edwin took the ice pack from her hands. “It is not sprained. Merely… sore.”

“What did he do, push you off the curb?” Charles asked, bowing up as if he might need to fight something. “Why the fuck would he do that?”

“Is that why you kissed him? Is that why he got you drunk?”

Edwin groaned again and put the ice pack over his tired eyes instead, which earned him a gentle flick from Niko. “He did not ‘push me off the curb,’” Edwin said.

“He kinda did,” Crystal said, not helping at all.

“You know what, forget why he pushed you off the curb. Where the fuck is he?” Charles asked. A strange shifting noise happened, and Edwin lifted the ice pack on his eyes to see Charles was bouncing in place almost like a boxer or like he was getting ready to play a round of hockey.

“For the last time, he did not push me off the curb. He pushed me because I pushed him. I just happened to be standing next to the curb,” he said. “And I have no clue where he is.”

“I know his address,” Crystal said, and Edwin was actually going to fight her. “If you wanna… you know.” She mimed punching the air at Charles.

“Great, that’s all I really need,” he said.

“No one is going anywhere!” Edwin snapped and immediately regretted it the second a spike of pain went through his head and down his spine. His breath caught for a moment before he could correct it, and he leaned forward, trying to stretch his back out and loosen up everything else.

He hadn’t felt all the aches and pains when he first woke up, but now it had all returned with a vengeance. His back was sore, his legs were aching, and of course his head was still pounding from his hangover. All he wanted to do was and even that seemed impossible now.

No one said anything. Edwin almost wished they would go back to arguing. At least then, while the conversation had been about him, it hadn’t been focused on him.

Finally, Crystal broke it by sitting down on the side Charles wasn’t on. “Fine. No one is beating up anyone.” She looked over Edwin to catch Charles’s eye. “Right?”

Charles’s jaw was still tight, still upset. Edwin could just barely see his fists clenching out of the corner of his eye from the angle he was at, and he wondered what was going through his head. “Right. Everyone’s aces, yeah?”

It was the least convincing thing he had ever said.

Edwin sat up again, exhaling as he did so. He liked to believe that it helped, that it wasn’t just in his mind, but it was always hard to tell.

“What are you two even doing here?” he asked, looking from Charles to Niko, who was still leaning over the back of the couch.

“You weren’t answering your phone,” Charles said. “And, well, I don’t wanna sound like Simon, but I was worried.” Edwin felt something warm and syrupy drip through his veins at Charles’s confession. “So I asked Crystal. And she told me you were here.”

“And I was already with Charles,” Niko said. And Edwin could tell that she must have been bothering him for all the details about their “date,” even if she didn’t say it out loud.

“So!” Crystal said, clapping her hands together. “I’m thinking bad TV and delivery. How’s that sound to everyone else?” She raised her eyebrow, at Edwin in particular, as if she expected him to protest the most out of everyone.

She would have likely been right under any other circumstance. But he was tired, hungry, and didn’t want to go home at the moment. Bad TV and ordering food was exactly how the two of them had spent far too many afternoons as kids for him to want to turn it down.

“Fine,” Edwin said. “But no reality TV. It’s stupid.”

“You’re stupid,” Crystal said. “And just for that, that’s what we’re watching first.”

Niko came and sat down next to Crystal on her admittedly large couch. It was big, but not big enough for Edwin to lay down with everyone else on the couch without putting his limbs all over them.

Sighing, he resigned himself to sitting up and watching whatever terrible show Crystal selected. She claimed she hated these shows, that they were vapid and braindead and advertised to the lowest common denominator of human beings, and yet between the two of them they had seen seasons of episodes.

Sometimes Edwin wondered if shows like these were where Crystal had learned her partying ways from. Money, sex, drugs, ‘love’ if you could call it that, these shows were filled with it. He was almost positive she’d been approached to do one of them when she was still a teenager, but she’d turned it down. “I don’t party for money, Edwin. I party to have fun, and you fucking should, too.”

Would she have ever turned to partying if she’d never watched these shows.

Would she have ever met David?

Edwin shuddered, suddenly seeing his awful face in every single crowd shot. He knew that he wasn’t there, this particular show had been filmed years ago and everyone in it was probably in their forties by now, but still. He could see it in the way this guy smiled, the way he lied to a girl.

Fuck Edwin sometimes hated these shows now. Just another thing David had ruined.

Thankfully, Crystal didn’t seem to notice. She had tucked herself up into a ball on the couch, leaning closer to Niko than was probably necessary. Niko asked question after question about the cast, who is this guy? Is he dating her? Wait, she’s married? What!? and Crystal answered each one with a small smile on her face that was so genuine and sweet it surprised even Edwin.

Had he ever seen her look at someone like that before? No, not even all the other times she had claimed she was in love before.

He’d known she and Niko had been… crushing on each other for a while now, and that all of their hangouts were likely ‘dates’ by other names, but to see it so obvious right in front of him? To have Crystal explain this show to Niko so excitedly yet kindly, when she had once told Edwin to “learn how to fucking listen” when he’s asked who someone was, nearly shook him to his core.

“You cold?” Charles asked. He was close, far closer than Edwin truly thought necessary even with the four of them on the couch. It was rather large, after all. There was no reason for Crystal to be leaning so close to Niko or Charles to be in Edwin’s space.

No, he wasn’t cold. But it would be too much to try and explain right now. Instead, he shrugged and tried to relax.

It was difficult. His body and brain were tired, both of them trying to get him to drop off into sleep while another part of him fought against it. He couldn’t just go to sleep. He was sitting on the couch between Crystal and Charles; there was hardly enough room for him to stretch out or move without overlapping one of them.

He shook his head, his voice low so as not to interrupt whatever stupid event was happening on screen. “Just tired,” he said, his voice drooping at about the same time his energy did.

Gently, so careful that Edwin almost didn’t even notice it, Charles pulled him back against him. His arm was wrapped around the back of the couch, comfortably curling around Edwin from this new position. Edwin’s eyes drooped, and before he knew it his head had tilted sideways, falling against Charles’s shoulder like it belonged there.

From there he could smell Charles’s cologne, that mix of sweet and spicy that always intrigued him. He could feel the warmth of his chest and side even through the thickness of his hoodie, a rather pleasant thing despite him not being cold before.

He should have been mortified by this position, leaned back against Charles and snuggling in like he was a child. But it was warm and comfortable, and he could stretch out his back better from this angle than he could before.

“He always falls asleep when we’re watching shows,” Crystal said, her voice sounding far away.

“Yeah, he told me,” Charles said, his voice rumbling his chest against Edwin’s arm. “Think he was just genuinely tired on this one.”

Edwin wanted to tell them that he could still hear them, that he was awake, but it seemed like too much effort.

Charles shifted, just the slightest bit as he dropped his arm to actually hang over Edwin’s back. Normally, such an action would make Edwin tense up, his freak out so inevitable that it would brush all the sleep away from him in an instant.

Instead, Charles’s fingers brushed lightly along his back, softly fidgeting in a way that was familiar. He’s seen Charles spin a pen around in thought, the way he’d run his hands along the chain at his neck while thinking. These movements were as familiar as all their dinners and homework sessions had become.

“He really does just fall right to sleep, huh?” Niko said.

Crystal laughed quietly. “Not usually,” she said. “Count yourself lucky, Charles.”

Charles’s arm tightened around him, still light enough to not hurt him, but enough that Edwin understood it for what it was. It was the sort of thing someone did when they were fond of someone, when they cared for the person.

The last thing he heard before he drifted off for his afternoon nap was Charles’s voice close to his ear, even closer than it had been the night before on the phone.

“I do.”

Chapter 13: talkin' without words and turnin' red, all tangled up in knots and I got lost in the thoughts that I had while I'm lyin' in this bed

Notes:

"I won't trip out on the past because it's gone,
It's just that this is new and yeah it's true
Only knew 'I love you's when I heard 'em in a song
I tell myself

 

Believe me, you're not in love
Been lookin' for a reason but there isn't one
Go easy, it's like a drug
Oh, I'm high off your love

 

Starin' at the ceiling and I'm burnin' up
Lookin' for a reason you ain't good enough
Now I'm in a feelin' and it's like a drug
Oh, I'm high off your love
Starin' at the ceiling and I'm givin' up
You're the missing pieces I've been dreamin' of
Now I'm in a feelin' and it's like a drug
Oh, I'm high off your love,"

 

- thoughts i have while lying in this bed by The Maine

“Need me to walk you home?” Charles asked Niko as he waited for Edwin to finish up whatever he was discussing with Crystal. She smiled and shook her head as she reclined back on Crystal’s couch.

“No, I think I’m gonna stay here tonight. My classes are canceled tomorrow, and Crystal told me she’d give me a ride to the rink in the afternoon,” she said. She cuddled down into the blanket she’d grabbed from the back of the couch, almost disappearing under the fluffy, pink monstrosity.

Now that he thought about it, it didn’t exactly look like Crystal’s style of blanket.

“Ooh, scandalous,” he teased. “Already staying the night with her? What’ll everyone think?”

Niko reached up and gently swatted his arm. “Oh yeah, and what about you? You met his dad, I think that’s several steps ahead of spending the night.”

All of the humor left Charles immediately. He tried not to let it show on his face, the last thing he wanted to do was upset everyone once they had finally seemed to calm down and ease up, but he couldn’t help it.

His eyes darted over, just to make sure Edwin was still wrapped up in his conversation before he dropped down to his knees to lean over the couch, placing his face as close to Niko’s as he could in the process.

“Edwin’s dad isn’t… you know,” Charles trailed off, knowing that she would pick up what he meant.

The deep, roaring fear that had settled in his stomach when he’d had to walk away from Edwin last night had only grown the more he’d thought about it. When Edwin had called him he was convinced that it was because his father had done something, like Charles knew his dad would have done, and it had taken everything in him to not bolt back across campus to get to him.

But Edwin hadn’t asked for him to come back, no matter how much Charles had wanted to, and he hadn’t wanted to make anything worse for him. So he’d sat in his room, mumbling along to whatever song was playing on his computer while he tried to listen down the line for Edwin in case he needed him.

He’d sat on that line until he’d heard Edwin’s breathing even out and he no longer answered him when he quietly called out. Then he’d waited even longer, just making sure that he stayed asleep and everything was fine.

The first thing he did after sleeping for an hour was immediately book it over to Niko’s dorm. Of course, she was already up and ready, waiting on a ‘tea-spilling’ session as it were, but he’d been too buzzy to properly give her an update.

Niko shook her head slowly, considering. At least she didn’t immediately brush off his concerns, like he knew a lot of people might have done. She took this seriously, and Charles couldn’t help but be forever grateful for her.

“No, I don’t think he is. He sounds like an asshole– both Crystal and Edwin’s parents do, but not… Not like that,” she said, finally settling on an answer that could calm his nerves.

An asshole, huh? Charles could deal with an asshole. That was no problem. Well, it was sort of a problem, but not like… not like he had originally thought it might be.

“What about Simon?” he asked. Because someone had hurt Edwin’s wrist, and apparently it was Simon. And he’s seen the way Simon talked to everyone, not just Edwin. It wasn’t a stretch to believe that there was something more to this.

Niko shifted uncomfortably on the couch, tucking the blanket in around her legs until she looked like a proper bug in a rug. “Simon is not a subject Crystal and I discuss.”

Once again, every instinct inside Charles was screaming. That couldn’t be right, Niko never gave up on a subject, even when it became obvious that she probably should. She’d practically dragged the whole business with his dad out of him, so he found it a little hard to believe she hadn’t done the same thing about Simon with Crystal.

“Why not?” he asked.

Niko shook her head. “Ask Edwin. Or don’t. He still looks tired, and I doubt sleeping on this couch was super restful with us around.”

Charles thought the couch had felt amazing, but what would he know? He had still yet to buy an extra mattress topper for his dorm bed and was sleeping just fine in it.

“That’s the hangover,” Charles joked. Or, half joked, because Edwin likely still was hungover, despite the sleep and food they’d eaten.

“Which, by the way, was a terrible choice,” Niko said, sticking her nose up. “I don’t want to tell you how to woo your crush, but dive bars and pool is not it.”

“In my defense, we had other plans,” Charles said. Because really, it’s not like any of that had been his first choice. “And Edwin had a great time.”

Niko smiled, that playful, mischievous smile he was oh so familiar with. “I’m sure he did. Plus, there’s always next time.”

Charles shook his head. “There’s not gonna be a ‘next time,’ Niko. This was just a one and done thing, as part of the bet.”

“Sure, it was,” Niko said, nodding her head and dragging out the word. “I believe you. We all believe you.”

Charles picked a pillow up off the couch and used it to push her further down into her nest she had built. She laughed, the sound muffled by the layers of fluff between them.

“If you’re done smothering Niko, I think Edwin wants to go home,” Crystal said. Charles looked up and she stood there, arms crossed and eyebrows raised. Edwin stood off to the side, still confused and sleepy.

“Right, looks like you get to live this time,” Charles said as he piled one more pillow on top, just for good measure.

The air was cool by the time they left Crystal’s place, just chilly enough that Charles was thankful he’d remembered to actually grab a jacket on his way out that morning.

At least the hoodie Niko had bought Edwin was actually getting some use out of it. He’d honestly figured he’d never wear it again after the game, but he had to admit that he liked it on him. It made him look less… severe. Softer, like some of his edges had been sanded off just by virtue of not having his hair done or being in matching skating gear.

“You do not have to walk me the whole way home,” Edwin said. He fiddled with his hoodie pocket, pushing his fists together inside as if that might somehow hide the action. A small wince shot across his face as he put pressure on his wrist, which only made Charles want to hold his hand and stop him from hurting himself.

Charles looked away, watching the familiar scenes pass by. It was funny how quickly this route had burned itself into Charles’s mind, sometimes his muscle memory taking over even when he was distracted.

“Do it all the time. Hardly see a reason to stop now,” Charles said.

Edwin frowned and slowed down until Charles was forced to stop as well.

“I– my father. He is a strict man,” Edwin said, and Charles’s stomach twisted.

He was used to describing his own dad that way, of brushing off concerns from friends or requests to hangout at his house because ‘dad’s strict.’ And it worked for most of his life, until Niko had come along and seen right through him.

“Yeah, I sorta got that vibe,” Charles said. He struggled to keep his tone light, keep his emotions down.

Edwin sighed and shook his head. He could tell that there was something else he wanted to say, something that he felt like he needed to say, but he didn’t know how.

Patience was not one of Charles’s strongest skills, but he could wait. He could give Edwin the time he needed to think of what to say or whether or not he even wanted to say it.

Far too much of the walk passed by them in silence and street lamps kicked on around them. Maybe he should have said something, encouraged him to speak up. Edwin never seemed to have a problem speaking his mind, but that was usually true as long as the subject wasn’t himself. The second anything got close to him he shut down.

Which Charles could relate to, he supposed. It was a learned response to all the bullshit over the years on his part, between his dad, racists assholes, and plenty of ‘unsportsmanlike’ activities.

He wondered where Edwin had learned it.

“As such, I will not be at the rink this week. Or at least until my father has left,” Edwin said, finally finishing his thought from before.

That didn’t sound like Edwin. Not Edwin, who used to fight Charles about leaving before midnight. Not Edwin, who spent more time at an ice rink than he did in his own home.

“Oh,” Charles said. “Got plans with your old man, then?”

That was the only thing that would make sense to him. If Edwin had plans with his dad then it would make sense that he wouldn’t have time to skate. But it still seemed wrong, seeing as how Edwin almost never skipped a chance to be on the ice.

“Mm-mm. He is not the sort of man you ‘make plans with,’” Edwin said.

“What the hell does that mean?” Charles asked.

“He is more the sort of man who drops in unexpectedly, and thinks you should be willing to drop everything just because he has appeared.” Edwin pushed his fists together again and this time Charles did reach out and redirect him.

Edwin frowned, but allowed him to pull one of his hands from his pocket. The urge to hold on to it, to hold hands while they walked home was strong, but he didn’t. Instead, he let it slip through his fingers, slow enough that Edwin didn’t think he’d dropped his hand but fast enough he didn’t have time to get rejected for it.

“Sounds like fun,” Charles muttered.

Edwin shrugged. “He is a busy man. I simply wasn’t expecting him until later in the year. Around Christmas, perhaps. Or maybe my birthday.”

Charles looked at him. “Your birthday is around Christmas?”

He made a sort of ‘so-so’ gesture. “It is New Year’s Day, technically, but it is all the same in my family.”

“A New Years Day baby, wow,” he said, smiling. He hadn’t thought the birthday on the fake ID had been even halfway true. “Never met anyone born on New Years.”

“It is a rather unfortunate day to have,” Edwin said. “Nothing is open, and everyone is usually in a bad mood from staying up late the night before.”

“Almost as bad as a May birthday,” Charles agreed. “Everyone is so stressed from finals or going home or starting vacations, it’s hard to do anything.”

“And forget a birthday cake, it is graduation season,” Edwin added, which Charles hadn’t even really considered before, seeing as how he never got a cake anyways.

Charles smiled though, and nodded his head. He wondered if Edwin ever got cakes for his birthday, and if he did what kind he preferred. There were plenty of specialties surrounding the New Year, but he probably avoided those like the plague considering he seemed a bit bitter about the day.

“What’s your favorite?” Charles asked, and Edwin squinted at him. “Cake? What’s your favorite?”

He thought for a moment. They both paused at an intersection, the one that would take them from campus to Edwin’s neighborhood. It seemed like a reasonable place to separate if he wasn’t going to walk him all the way home.

The streets cleared and they crossed.

“Any of them?” he said, still unsure.

“Pfft,” Charles laughed. “That’s not an answer. You’ve gotta have one that’s your favorite.”

Edwin rolled his eyes. “Well, what’s yours?”

He could go with something basic, like vanilla or chocolate, but that was boring. “Pina colada,” he said.

Edwin tilted his head back, also thinking. “I don’t believe I’ve ever had that one,” he said.

“It’s good. Soft and sweet and delicious, as long as you like pineapples,” he said.

“I think you’re just making me hungry again,” Edwin said. He tapped his chin, clearly considering the question now. “Crystal and I used to get this dulce leche cake from this place not far from here when we were kids. I believe they have shut down now, but it was the best cake I have ever had in my entire life.”

Charles stored that information away for later. “Ooh, fancy,” he teased, elbowing Edwin.

“Your choice was equally as ‘fancy,’” Edwin defended, though there was no need.

Edwin’s place loomed just a few houses down. His father’s car, a nice, sleek looking thing, sat in the driveway, and Charles couldn’t help but notice the way Edwin rolled his eyes at its presence.

“I did not realize he was serious about dinner,” Edwin said, then clarified when Charles gave him a questioning look. “He told me to be home for dinner. I had assumed he would forget and be gone by then.”

Charles bit his lip. He couldn’t imagine a world where Edwin’s father forgot something like dinner after the way he had acted last night, but then again, he didn’t actually know much about the man.

The front door opened as his father carried something out to his car. It looked like a briefcase, maybe, though it was hard to tell in the low light. It would seem, however, that he had no problem spotting Edwin and Charles from a few houses down.

“Edwin!” he called out. “Dinner should be here in a few minutes. You can send your… friend home now.”

As if they were children who had merely been playing outside. Like Charles needed to ‘run on home’ to his own parents or some shit.

“Ten to one says we could beat him if we ran right now,” Charles said, half joking.

Edwin smiled, just enough of an upturn at the corners of his mouth to show he was. “Unfortunately, I am not as sure about that. He is quite fast. And determined when he wants to be.”

Charles wanted to joke about how that sounded an awful lot like Edwin, but the words caught in his throat. He knew how he would feel being compared to his own dad, and while Edwin’s might be different that didn’t mean he was good.

“And Simon brought your phone by after his run,” his father continued. “He said you dropped it. You need to be more responsible with your stuff.”

Edwin patted his pockets again. “Fuck. I knew I had grabbed it this morning,” he said. “It must have fallen out when…”

When they’d fought. Which still seemed like an absolutely insane thing to have happened that morning. Charles couldn’t think of two people less likely to pick a physical fight than those two.

“We still need to talk about that, too,” Charles said, wagging his finger at Edwin. “But later. Because I think your dad might put a curse on me if we stand here any longer.”

Edwin sighed but didn’t argue either point. “Fine. Thank you for walking me home. Once again, I am… sorry for how last night turned out.”

Charles bopped him on the top of the head. “Don’t do that. No reason to be sorry.” He glanced over to where Edwin’s dad was standing, his arms crossed as he waited for him to leave. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

He turned to walk away as Edwin started to argue. “I told you, I will not be at the rink this week.”

Charles walked backwards, shrugging. “S’not the only way we can hang out, is it?”

Edwin stood there, looking dazed under the street light. And Charles tried to burn that image into his head, rather than the one of his father standing not too far away, watching their whole interaction with something stronger than disdain.

XXX

Later that night Edwin called him again. It was late, Charles dozing off in his bed with his laptop playing a several hours long video essay to help put him to sleep, and it had taken him several rings before he realized the noise he was hearing was real.

“‘ello?” he asked, his voice stuffy from sleep.

“Did I wake you?” Edwin’s quiet but clear voice asked.

Immediately Charles was awake. “What? Psh, no, I was just… just doing homework,” he said, reaching for one of the books he’d shoved to the foot of his bed earlier. He was lucky he hadn’t kicked it off and given himself a heart attack.

Edwin laughed softly, really more just an exhale of breath than an actual laugh, but Charles was going to count it as a win.

“What’s up?” he asked. Because there had to be a reason Edwin was calling him, right? Especially since it was– he pulled the phone back to look at it, about one in the morning.

There was silence on the other end, just long enough that Charles wondered if he’d hung up and hadn’t noticed it.

“I merely wanted to talk to you,” Edwin said, finally. “It seems as though we hardly got a chance at Crystal’s.”

Between Edwin (and Charles, although he would deny it) sleeping and Crystal shushing them because she was ‘not going to explain what was happening again’ there had been very little time to actually talk about everything.

He had sort of hoped that their walk home would do that, but then they’d spent half of it in silence and the other half talking about cake. Which wasn’t a waste, exactly, but not what he had intended.

It was late now, though, and Charles was exhausted from staying up the night before. But if Edwin wanted to stay on the phone and talk then he would gladly do it. Hell, he’d crack a Redbull if he needed him to.

“Wanna continue the cake conversation?” Charles joked. “I know it was riveting.”

He could practically hear Edwin’s eyes roll through the phone, which only made Charles smile harder.

“Yes, Charles, I called you at one in the morning to discuss cake,” Edwin said.

“Well, what did you wanna talk about?” Charles asked. Because he didn’t know if Edwin would understand a cake vs ass joke, nor did he think he would appreciate it if he did.

“What is playing in the background?” Edwin asked.

Charles glanced at the screen. “Some video about…” Charles glanced at it. “Actually, I don’t know. I just picked it because it was long. Maybe Star Wars?”

“You picked a video, you know nothing about, because it was… long? Do you even like Star Wars?” Edwin asked.

“I do!” Charles defended. “I just… don’t know what this one is. It’s like… an hour in or something.”

More silence. “So I did wake you,” Edwin said. “And you were not doing homework, seeing as how you are hours into some video you are not even watching.”

“Perfect way to study,” Charles said, switching the video off and putting on some music instead. It would be less distracting this way. Maybe not for Edwin, but at least him.

“Your study habits terrify me,” Edwin joked. Or maybe he didn’t, maybe he meant it, Charles would never know.

“We can’t all be Mr. Perfect Study, can we,” Charles teased.

“No, but you could at least be awake to do so,” Edwin said.

“Well, what are you doing? Are you even studying?” Charles asked.

Edwin cleared his throat, this quiet sort of exhale he did occasionally when he was feeling a certain way. Uncomfortable, thrown for a loop, any sort of ‘off balance’ type of feeling.

“No, I was… Trying to sleep,” Edwin admitted.

Charles laid back down, lounging out amongst his laptop and books and notes he really should remember to put in his bag for tomorrow. “So you called me?” he asked. He meant it to be a joke, a sort of ‘why call to talk if you were trying to sleep?’ sort of thing, but he realized how it sounded after it left his mouth.

“You are right. It was… not a thought through idea,” Edwin said.

But Charles liked the idea. He liked the idea of Edwin not being able to sleep and calling Charles instead, just like he had last night. Or the way he had curled into him on the couch earlier, as if that was exactly where he was meant to be.

It made his stomach flutter, like a million butterflies had suddenly swarmed him, and he couldn’t stop smiling.

He wondered what Edwin looked like when he was properly asleep. Was he the type of person to starfish out on the bed, like Charles, or was he more the ‘curl up in a ball’ type? Did he cling to someone when he slept, sort of like he’d turned into Charles’s chest earlier, or was he less a fan of that when there was more space in a bed?

Had Edwin ever slept with someone to even know that?

Immediately he ground those thoughts to a halt. That was the last thing he needed to be thinking about right now.

But if he hadn’t dated anyone the chances of that went to, like, zero, right? Not that you had to be dating someone to do that with them, of course, but Edwin seemed like the type.

No, Charles wasn’t going to think of that.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked, finally getting back to the point.

“It is difficult with my father in the house. I can hear him moving things around, making calls, and… I’m not really sure what else but it is distracting me either way,” Edwin sighed.

“Not very considerate, that one,” Charles said. He almost expected Edwin to snap something at him, to defend his father for a moment, but he didn’t.

“No, I suppose not,” he said. “It has been a while since we have lived in the same house for any amount of time. And the last time we did he was not so business oriented.”

“Kinda got the idea he was always business oriented,” he said. And he didn’t know why he said it, it’s not like he’d had any long dealings with Edwin’s father, aside from that night.

“Listen, this is my house. And that is my son, who needs to be focusing on school and not partying like he’s a fucking frat boy.”

“More or less. It depends on when it suits him,” Edwin said. “And what of your parents? I don’t think you have mentioned them.”

Charles shut down. He tried to force the happy, go-lucky smile back onto his face, afraid that Edwin might hear the way his face had changed in his tone alone. “Not a lot to tell, really. Mum and dad are back home in London. Don’t see them much during the year, but I go home during the summers, so it’s all good.”

“Were they surprised you made the choice to come over to the States for school?” Edwin asked. “Or was this a decision a long time in the making.”

Surprised was not the way Charles would have described their reaction. His mum had known, had all but printed out his applications for him to try and send out to people, while his dad had been livid. At least, he had been, until he realized that meant that they wouldn’t have to pay a dime for his schooling if he got the scholarship he ended up receiving.

Then he’d been all gung-ho about sending his kid away.

“A bit of both,” Charles said, because it was the closest thing he could say without outright lying. “Not surprised, because I’d always been serious about hockey, but… maybe more surprised that someone would want me to play hockey for them.”

Edwin was quiet for a moment. When he answered his voice was delicate, almost melancholy. “You are a wonderful player, Charles, I would have been surprised if there weren’t people lining up to get you to play for them.”

That was sweet. So sweet it practically made Charles’s teeth hurt.

“Just grateful I got to play for anyone, really,” Charles said. And even more grateful for the scholarship, but that went without saying. “Was sorta afraid I’d get stuck to beer leagues and the like. Which I might, after school, but that’s a problem for later, innit?”

“Ugh, don’t say beer,” Edwin shuddered and Charles laughed.

“Oi, my beer selection was fine. It was you wanting to drink other things that caused the problem. Haven’t you ever heard? ‘Beer before liquor, never sicker,” Charles said.

“That is a myth,” Edwin retorted.

Charles smiled. “And yet here we are.”

“Here we are.”

They both fell quiet for a while, Charles getting lost in the music playing on his laptop and Edwin… well, who knew what Edwin was doing? It seemed quiet on his other end, so much so that he wondered if he’d muted himself.

“You still there?” Charles asked.

Edwin let out a murmured “mmhmm,” that made Charles’s butterflies act up again.

“Finally feeling sleepy?” he teased.

“No,” Edwin said, although it was sleep-slow and sluggish. “Merely… distracted.”

“Oh, yeah? Distracted? By what?”

Edwin shuffled, the other end of the phone breaking up for just a second as he resettled. “Trying to figure out what on Earth you are listening to.”

Charles glanced over to his laptop. “What’s wrong with The Church?” he asked.

“I have no clue what that is,” Edwin said. “You were listening to this song last night, as well, correct?”

Charles thought back. “Maybe? I like it, so it plays a lot.”

There was some more shuffling. “What is it called?” he mumbled.

Charles glanced at his computer, just to be sure. “Under the Milky Way,” Charles said. “S’kinda funny, since we were supposed to go to a planetarium, huh?”

Edwin let out another affirmative sound. “Yes, an odd coincidence. Do you like the stars?”

Charles paused. “Never really thought of them much. But you do, right?”

“Me?” Edwin asked. “Whatever gave you that impression?”

Charles thought back. There had been the book on constellations and some other thing before that he’d seen Edwin read during one of their nights at the rink, and he knew it wasn’t an assignment, either. Had it just been something he’d picked up and decided to read on a whim? It didn’t look like that type of book, especially not with its size, but Edwin was a reader after all.

“You read a whole book on constellations, didn’t you?” he asked.

“Oh, right. That,” Edwin said, sounding as if he was slipping further and further into sleep. “That wasn’t mine.”

“Whose was it, then?” he asked.

Edwin didn’t answer. From the sounds on the other end, he’d completely fallen asleep.

Charles stayed on the line for a few more songs before he finally hung up.

XXX

Since Edwin wouldn’t be at Crystal’s rink that week, Charles hadn’t really known where he would see him. All he had known was that he would see him, because the idea of waiting to see him again until his dad left was enough to drive Charles insane.

Thankfully, it would seem fate had intervened.

The coffee shop on campus was packed, almost every table filled with students. Some were studying, books and papers spread out all over, while others chatted and caught up in between classes.

It was rare Charles ever actually stopped in here, but like he’d thought before, fate must be on his side, because there, next to one of the windows was Edwin.

“You come here often?” he asked, trying for the lamest, cheesiest pick up line he could think of.

Edwin jumped, nearly knocking his…coffee? off the table in the process. It looked like something Niko would order, with sugar and cookies and crumbles spread out all over it, and he was almost ninety percent sure there were sprinkles if he looked closer.

“What is that?” he asked, smiling as he plucked the sweating drink off the table. It was nearly half gone, really just a mess of whipped topping and sweets left to try and drink up the straw.

“My drink,” Edwin said and snatched it back with a smile. “What are you doing here?”

Charles shrugged. “Brad and Hunter threatened to invade my room earlier after practice, so I’m avoiding going back,” he said, sighing as he sank into the chair across from Edwin. “What about you?”

“Studying,” Edwin said. “Or endeavoring to.”

Charles nodded and looked over his papers. “Biology?” he asked. He’d almost forgotten that Edwin was a year below him, and would probably still be finishing up some of his gen eds.

“A fine subject, except for the workload,” he said. And Charles remembered that. There were lots of study guides and worksheets and other random things the teacher liked to assign, not to mention if Edwin was taking the lab at the same time.

“Figured you would have been in the library,” he said. “A nerd like you, hiding out with the books.”

Edwin’s eyes narrowed, forming a glare that was so hot it might as well have set the page in his hand on fire. “Simon was in there, last I checked.” He took a valiant attempt at a sip from his coffee, only to set it down when nothing came out.

“Avoiding Simon are we? Can’t say I’m really upset about that one,” Charles joked.

Edwin smiled and Charles counted it as a win. Especially considering how tense he had looked before he’d sat down.

“We are not ‘avoiding Simon,’” Edwin said. “I am avoiding Simon. I was not aware you two spoke enough for you to be able to avoid him.”

“I think it should be the other way around. Simon should be avoiding me, yeah?” Charles said, shrugging. Because if he got his hands on him, he would…

“You’re being ridiculous,” Edwin said, though that fond smile was still there. And Charles would be as ridiculous as he had to be to keep that look around. He’d drop out and enroll in clown school if he smiled like that at him more.

“What are you grinning about?” Edwin asked, finally looking up at him.

“Clown school,” Charles said, not even thinking about it.

“I hope not as a viable career option,” he said. “I think we already agreed that would not be for the best.”

Charles laughed and held his hands up in a ‘you got me,’ sort of way. “Want more coffee? My treat,” he said, because he had saved some money after the failed date.

Edwin nodded but still handed him a few bills. “Yes, but here. I want the largest size whatever this monstrosity comes in,” he said.

“Your blood is going to turn into straight sugar,” Charles said, but went up to order it anyway.

It only took a few moments before their orders were done, and Charles could only marvel at the size of Edwin’s drink. There was no way he was going to sleep tonight.

He turned back to the table Edwin was sitting at and froze.

Edwin’s head was tilted down, the late afternoon sun coming in behind him. It set off the brown in his hair, hints of gold and red shining through in ways that Charles had never really noticed before.

He wondered what his eyes would look like in the same light.

But calling his name would distract him, and Edwin was actually trying to study, so Charles wouldn’t do that to him. Instead, he gently set his drink down next to him and slid into the chair across from him, content to just watch him out of the corner of his eye as he pulled out his own homework.

For the first time in Charles’s life he wished he knew how to paint. Not just the little things he occasionally did during paint parties with Niko, but really, actually, genuinely paint. That felt like the only way to capture how soft Edwin looked, the way his eyes seemed simultaneously intent on the words in front of him and seconds from closing and taking a nap.

“We’ve got another game this Friday,” Charles said, trying his best to focus, to snap back to reality. “Are you gonna be there?”

Edwin hmm’ed for a moment, and Charles wasn’t entirely sure he’d heard him. Absent-mindedly, he sipped his coffee, a vague and quiet ‘thank you,’ whispered in Charles’s direction. It would be so like Edwin to get absorbed in his own work and lose track of a direct question.

To his surprise, Edwin answered. “I wasn’t aware I was invited.”

“You’re always invited, mate,” Charles said. Finally, Edwin looked up, his green eyes capturing the sun just like Charles knew they would, a kaleidoscope of colors that he adored.

Edwin smiled and ducked his head back down to look at his book. As if that might somehow take away the reaction Charles had seen.

“Going to win this one, too?” Edwin asked.

Charles shrugged. “Dunno, is my good luck charm going to be there?”

It was like watching Edwin reset as he nearly spit his drink out. “Your what?” he asked.

“Good luck charm. That’s what you were, right? Only won because–” he cut himself off, barely stopping himself from saying ‘so I could take you on a date.’ “‘cause we had a bet to uphold, huh? Now I’m gonna need you at every game, just to keep the streak alive.”

Edwin smiled. “What do I get out of all of this?”

Charles spread his arms wide, as if he might have something to offer him on his person. “Whatever you want, mate.”

Edwin’s eyes dipped down from his face for a split second, just long enough for his face to flash red and turn back to his books. “What are we going to do? Make another bet?” Edwin asked.

Charles leaned across the table, his face hovering over Edwin’s notes so he had no choice but to look up at him. “You wanna?”

He could see the indecision cross over Edwin’s face, the hesitation and confusion that Charles wished he could wipe away from him. Let him just relax and not have to worry about anything.

“I don’t even know what I would bet,” Edwin said, staring into Charles’s eyes.

“Whatever you want.”

It took a long moment before Edwin said anything, and Charles felt every second of it. “What do you get out of this?”

Charles couldn’t help but let his eyes roam over all of Edwin, his lips, his arms, back to his eyes. “Whatever I want.”

“That is not very descriptive,” Edwin said, his face close to Charles’s. It would probably be touching if it wasn’t for the table they were both having to lean over. “Sounds like a bad bet.”

Charles grinned. “Only a bad bet if you’re scared.”

“Ooh, I am so terrified, whatever shall I do?” Edwin said, so blandly Charles couldn’t help but laugh.

It felt like something broke when he did, some sort of spell that neither one of them realized had been cast. Charles almost regretted seeing it go, but he did like the nice blush it had all seared into Edwin’s cheeks.

“Fine, fine, fine,” he said, waving his hand in between them as if that might brush everything else away. “How about this? Same bet as before. We win the game, and I get another chance to do this date thing over correctly. With input this time, so we don’t have any more miscommunications.”

Edwin tilted his head to the side. “And if you lose,” Edwin said. “You’ll start running with me?”

Charles nodded as he thought about it for a moment. “Is that why Simon was there yesterday?” Charles asked. “To go on a run?” He tried to make himself sound nonchalant, like none of it mattered to him. But it did. He didn’t like the idea of Edwin hanging out with him alone, not after yesterday morning.

But that sounded crazy and controlling. As if he had any right to determine who Edwin decided to spend his time with or when he did so.

It sounded like his dad. And that was the last thing Charles wanted to sound like.

Edwin shrugged, swirling his coffee with his straw. “Perhaps? We do usually run in the morning, although I believe it was more likely to continue my father’s lecture than it was any interest in exercising with me.”

So, this really would be a win-win situation in Charles’s mind. Either he won, and he got another chance at a date with Edwin, or he lost, and he got to make sure he was at least there some of the time when Simon was.

He liked those odds either way.

“Deal?” Charles asked, holding out his hand.

Edwin eyed it for only a moment before shaking. “Deal. Let’s see if your team has it in them to win two games in a row.”

XXX

Charles waited for Edwin to call him that night, but by the time it reached one in the morning he figured he wasn’t going to.

So he called him instead.

“Hello?” Edwin asked, his voice groggy and confused.

“Oh,” Charles said, surprised that Edwin had been asleep for once. “Didn’t mean to wake you, mate.”

Edwin was silent for a moment before Charles heard him stretch. “No, it’s fine. What time is it?”

“Little bit after one,” Charles said. “Really, though, I can let you go. I didn’t realize you were asleep.”

“I did not realize, either,” Edwin said. “I must have fallen asleep on the couch.”

Charles smiled as he laid back and stared up at his ceiling. “Kinda late for a nap, eh?”

“It was hardly intentional,” Edwin said. There was the sound of something falling over to the floor and a quiet curse under Edwin’s breath as he moved around.

“What’re you doing?”

“Trying to carry my books up the stairs and it is going as well as it sounds,” Edwin said. He huffed as he must have bent down to gather them back up.

“Leave ‘em, save yourself,” Charles joked.

“And have my father lecture me about not taking care of my things again? I think not.”

Charles bit his lip at that. “So he’s still there?” he asked.

Edwin sighed, and Charles could just barely hear the sound of his bedroom door as it shut. “For now.”

“Is it going any better?”

Edwin huffed. “Well, tonight we managed to have dinner without the words ‘completely irresponsible’ or ‘disappointing’ being used, so I believe that should count as an improvement.”

“Might as well throw a parade,” Charles snarked.

“Hmm,” Edwin agreed. Charles listened to him as he walked around his room, likely going about his nightly routines. “Was there… a reason you called?” Edwin asked, his voice almost hesitant.

Charles put his phone on speaker and set it on his chest. He reached up, folding his arms behind his head as he let out a huff. “I can’t just wanna talk to you?” he asked.

“I–” Edwin paused. “I suppose that would be an acceptable answer.”

“Great,” Charles said. Then, because he had no clue what exactly he should want to talk about with Edwin, he paused. “Jenny said she missed you today.”

He could practically hear Edwin’s eyebrow quirk up. “That does not sound like something Jenny would say.”

“You’re right. Technically, she said, ‘where is his scrawny little ass?’ and I said, ‘it’s not that scrawny,’ and she said, ‘gross,’ and that was about it. But I could read between the lines. She missed you,” Charles said.

“I’ll have to ask you to refrain from talking about ‘my ass’ with Jenny,” Edwin said. “That is… disturbing.”

“I think you’re missing the part where I said she missed you,” Charles said.

“I think you missed the part where she did not say it.”

“Reading between the lines, mate! She absolutely missed you. She even had cupcakes set back for you.”

“She did?” Edwin asked.

Charles shrugged even though Edwin couldn’t see it. “Yeah, apparently it was one of Niko’s student’s birthdays today, so Jenny made cupcakes. And she held some back for you,” Charles said.

Jenny had practically stormed over to Charles when he’d arrived after studying with Edwin that day, and demanded to know where he was. She’d been particularly pissed to learn that his father was in town, so he likely wouldn’t be in the rink much that week.

Oh well, more cupcakes for Charles.

“Oh,” Edwin said, as if he hadn’t expected that. “That was very kind of her. I will have to thank her later.”

Charles wondered if Edwin knew how much Jenny cared about him and Crystal. Or about the kids that came through Niko’s class. Oh sure, Jenny might put up a tough front, but Charles knew it was all an act. He could remember her squaring up to him when she’d thought he’d done something to upset Edwin, and the way she’d personally set aside meals and coffee for Edwin and Crystal when they came through.

“It’ll be great to have you back at the rink. Everyone misses you,” Charles said.

I miss you.

Which was stupid, because Charles had seen him every day. It’s not like they were truly spending a lot less time together than usual.

“Charles, it has only been a couple of days, hardly the longest I have ever been gone,” Edwin said.

And while that was true, it felt different this time. Now it wasn’t Edwin staying away because he was feeling particularly petty, it was because his father had forced him to. Or, at least strongly encouraged him to, because Charles wasn’t sure anyone could actually force Edwin to do anything.

There was also the fact that reduced rink time meant reduced one on one time together. Even their unplanned study session earlier had been in a crowd of people, no time for just the two of them. Not the same way it was during those training sessions, where they shared dinner and talked and Edwin practiced.

It was different with other people around. Not necessarily in a bad way, just one that made him miss the way things usually were.

But these phone calls did sort of scratch the same itch. He missed being able to see Edwin’s reaction to some things– the way he raised his eyebrow when Charles said something he found particularly strange or the small, up turn of his lips when he amused him– but there was its own sort of intimacy to this too. This way he could sit there, close his eyes, and pretend that Edwin was lying next to him, tucked up against his chest like his phone was.

He wondered what Edwin thought about when they talked.

“Doesn’t mean people don’t miss you,” Charles said. “You’re properly missable.”

There was a pause, so long that Charles had to question if Edwin had heard him, before he answered. “Thank you. That is… kind of you to say.” He tried to picture Edwin’s face right now. Was he frowning? Smiling? He couldn’t tell by his voice alone and that upset him. “I do not think anyone has ever told me that before.”

“S’fucking shame, mate,” Charles said. “Someone shoulda let you know that ages ago.”

Edwin snorted that short, surprised noise he made when Charles managed to catch him off guard.

“Yes, well. It won’t always be this way. Competitions are coming up, and my father can only stand to be in one place for so long,” Edwin said. “And with Simon and I still not on speaking terms, that means Crystal’s rink is really the only place I can skate.”

Charles opened his eyes. “Wait, what? You can’t skate on campus?”

“No,” Edwin said, his teeth seemingly clenched. “My times are reserved with Simon’s.”

“That’s bullshit, mate,” Charles said.

“It is the rules.”

Charles shook his head. “No. No, no, because I see the rink allotments. Simon has, like, half the fucking slots alone,” he said. Which wasn’t strictly true, but he did have a rather large amount for one person. “There’s no way you don’t get your own.”

Edwin sighed, a long, tired sigh that almost made Charles feel bad for pushing the issue. “Simon and I have a deal together. Our coaches have… worked out an arrangement. And all of my ice times were technically given to Simon, with the understanding that we would use most of them together.”

Except now they weren’t.

“That’s bullshit,” Charles said. “Every student has a right to use that rink, Edwin. He can’t just–just bully you out of your spot.”

“It is not bullying, Charles, it is simply knowing that it is not worth fighting over. It’s not like I am without a space to practice,” he said.

Which wasn’t the point of the matter, as far as Charles was concerned.

“Can’t your coach do something?” he asked. Because he knew that his coach, no matter how annoyed and tired of him she might be, would at least always have his back in a matter like this.

Then again, Edwin had had more than ten coaches in the past, so maybe good skating coaches were hard to come by.

“Coach King is the one who agreed to this,” Edwin said. “I told you, we worked out an arrangement.”

“An unfair one,” Charles said. “One that leaves you without a space to practice on campus, just because Simon’s pissy.”

Edwin shook his head. “The arrangement is fine. Coach King would not have accepted it any other way. I would not have accepted it any other way.”

There was a strange note to Edwin’s voice at that last sentence, something Charles wasn’t sure he understood. But this conversation had strayed so far from what he had first imagined when he had called Edwin that he almost couldn’t remember how they even got here.

“Fine. But like I said, say the word and I’ll knock his ass flat. Really send him spinning, yeah?” Charles said, miming balling up his fist as if Edwin could see him.

“Unnecessary, but thank you,” Edwin said, and for once he actually sounded like he appreciated it. He could hear something on the other end, something he’d come to associate with the sound of Edwin crawling into bed, likely the blankets shifting around him as he covered up. “I do appreciate the call, as well.”

Charles felt his own cheeks heat up. “Just seemed like a new thing we were doing,” Charles said. “Wondered if I’d scared you off with our bet earlier, when you didn’t call.”

“Hm, yes, so scared of your bet. The bet we’ve already made once before,” Edwin teased.

“Yeah, but this time if I win, it’s gonna be, like, a proper real thing. Skip the dive bar and nachos,” Charles said.

“Ah, what a shame. I’ll miss the nachos,” Edwin said, his voice slowly getting quieter.

Charles lowered his own in response. “Fine. The nachos can stay, but we’re gonna get the good kind. Name brand chips and everything.”

“Charles Rowland you are a fucking gentleman,” Edwin said.

And maybe it was because Edwin so rarely cussed or maybe it was because he’d called him a gentleman, Charles didn’t know, but it sent a spike of chills down his spine. He felt as if he’d won the lottery or some other equally as unlikely thing, as he smiled at the phone still laying on his chest.

“Only the best for you,” Charles said, cutting himself off before he could add some stupid ‘pet name’ at the end of the sentence. It seemed too strange, even for this sort of banter they had going now.

He knew that if it had been Niko or maybe even Crystal he would have thrown in a ‘babe’ or a ‘sweetheart’ or anything other term of endearment, but it felt wrong to use it on Edwin. Not because he didn’t want to, but because he wanted to so bad it made his heart hurt.

“You deserve the best, too, Charles,” Edwin said.

It’s like Edwin was trying to kill him.

“You tired?” Charles asked, his voice soft.

“You’re tired,” Edwin answered, which really answered Charles’s question for him.

“Night, Edwin,” he said.

“No, I am awake,” Edwin argued. “We can stay on the phone.”

Charles snorted. “I’ll stay on. Lemme just…” he reached over and turned on his laptop, cuing up some music.

He had a whole playlist ready to go, songs he imagined Edwin would like, softer sounding songs that would help him go to sleep. He didn’t actually know what type of music Edwin liked to listen to, but they at least fit the vibes of these slower, gentle moments they’d been having at night.

“I was wondering when you would start singing,” Edwin said, his voice almost gone.

“Singing?” Charles asked.

“You do that. Or hum. It’s nice,” Edwin said. “Reminds me that you are still here.”

Charles didn’t know what to say to that. He hadn’t really been aware it was something he was doing, or at least not something that Edwin could hear him do. Much less something Edwin would actually like.

“Well, I don’t wanna disappoint ya,” Charles said before he started humming the next song.

Edwin was asleep before he was even halfway through.

Notes:

considering the maine is, like, half of my hockey au playlist, I really do have to thank this song for a lot of the heavy lifting on this fic lol but especially this chapter.

as always, thank you guys for reading! your enjoyment and excitement for this silly little fic blows my mind every week. love you! <3 <3 <3

Chapter 14: You Know I Try To Be An Optimist, But It's Bringing Me Down

Notes:

"Caught a shiner and a bloody lip,
you know I try to be an optimist,
but it's bringing me down, bringing me down,
When all I had was love to give,
this city never gave a shit,
Tell me, why did I put up with it?
[...]
Even if I burned it down, I fear,
I'd find another reason why I hate it here,"
why i hate it here (dyed red 2011) by The Maine

The week passed by in a blur of classes, practices, and late night phone calls. It seemed as though Edwin’s father would never leave, instead always remaining as a dark cloud that seemed to hover over his townhouse anytime Charles walked him home.

He never spoke to him again, not after that first night, but he could always sense him. Over the years of living in his dad’s presence he had grown to sense when someone like that was lingering, waiting on the edge for you to fuck up and blow up about it.

He didn’t, though. As far as Charles could tell, William Payne was like a ghost– haunting every situation without even having to be there for it.

His dad would almost be jealous of the sheer power William Payne seemed to hold, even the circumstances that didn’t involve him.

They could never be allowed to meet.

Not that Charles could ever imagine a scenario where they would. Even in his wildest dreams where whatever was happening between him and Edwin actually meant something, he could never imagine his dad and Edwin’s father meeting. The world would probably explode or something else equally as catastrophic.

He also tried not to think too hard about how his dad would react to Edwin in general. A sharp tongued, blunt, male figure skater? The things his dad would likely say practically rang in his ears.

But none of that mattered now, because he had a game tomorrow and Edwin’s father had finally left.

He debated asking Edwin if he wanted to hang out earlier in the night, maybe get in some skating before it grew too late, but he’d held back. Something had stopped him, even if he wasn’t sure what.

Still, he wanted to talk to him, to do their nightly routine of talking on the phone until one of them– usually Edwin– no, always Edwin, fell asleep while Charles played soft music in the background.

Thankfully, Edwin called him that Thursday night and ended his debate whether or not he should call him himself, although he tried to keep his conversation short, citing the game tomorrow.

“You need to get your rest,” Edwin said.

“I get plenty of rest,” Charles said. “We can just talk until I fall asleep.”

Which had actually turned into talking until Edwin fell asleep, but it was all the same in Charles’s mind. Once Edwin had dropped off into sleep, Charles had finally allowed himself to do the same.

It wasn’t until he woke up in the morning that he realized he hadn’t gotten his ‘pre-game’ buzz that he always got. Instead, it had been replaced with a full night’s sleep, courtesy of Edwin’s soft breaths down the line.

That buzzy feeling didn’t even hit him until he was finished with his classes and getting ready to head out to the rink with the rest of the crew.

“And Crystal and Edwin are definitely coming?” he asked, pressing his phone harder against his face as he tried to wrangle the last of his gear.

“Yes,” Niko said. “I already made sure. And Edwin’s going to wear that cute school hoodie you like him in, too.”

Charles coughed and nearly dropped his phone. “I don’t like him in the hoodie,” he said.

“Right, you’d rather see him out of it, got it,” she said.

“No, Niko, that’s not what I said!” Charles said, nearly losing his dorm keys this time. Which would really suck, because unlike last year, he didn’t even have a roommate to let him in and would have to pay an unlocking fee. Again.

“I’ll be sure to let him know,” she teased.

“You tell him anything like that and I’ll tell Crystal about the time you tried to get a perm,” he said.

He could practically feel Niko’s eyes narrow. “You wouldn’t.”

“Yeah, and how it burnt the ends of your hair and left you looking like a singed poodle.”

“Fine, but I’ll tell Edwin about the time you tried to shave a slit in your eyebrow and shaved off half of it.”

Silence filled the line. “Truce?” he offered.

“Truce. But he will still be in the cute hoodie, so compliment him when you see him,” Niko said before hanging up.

Well, at least that was something different he could focus on rather than his pre-game jitters. He definitely wouldn’t be stuck thinking about Edwin in the stands, watching him and wearing a hoodie that, while supporting the whole school, was bought specifically to support his team.

Nope, not thinking about that at all.

XXX

“Who picked the colors? Navy and gray? It’s a little uninspired.”

“Actually, what’s uninspiring is the effort this team is putting out, come on already!”

“Are they, like, allowed to do that?” Hunter asked, looking up at the announcer’s box. Their new announcers, Litty and Kingham, were really starting to get on everyone’s last nerve. Even Coach Nurse had snapped a pencil in annoyance at their commentary when she thought no one was watching.

“Is this even navy?” Brad asked, glancing at his jersey.

Neither Charles nor Hunter answered. Charles, because he wasn’t sure what the exact shade of blue they were wearing was called, and Hunter because he’d already gotten pissed off with him at least once earlier in the night.

“Maybe, if you ladies stopped swapping colors, we might actually score a goal,” Oliver snapped from further down the bench.

“Aren’t you the fucking goalie?” Brad asked. “What’re you, made of swiss cheese? We're not playing dodgeball out here.”

Charles sighed as he leaned back on the bench and looked up at the scoreboard, although he wasn’t sure why. He knew the score, had fucking had it burned into his soul by this point in the game two periods in.

4 to 1 with the opposing team winning.

Somewhere out in the crowd Edwin was watching him get his ass beat. He tried not to feel so embarrassed by it, to let the feelings wash over him and leave, like he knew they would. If he could just sit there for a moment and pretend that none of this was happening, he might even believe it.

“Well maybe, if you got your head out of your ass instead of looking at Chucky’s girlfriend, I wouldn’t have to work so hard to stop the pucks,” Oliver said.

Charles tuned back in, drawn by the mention of his name.

“What?” he asked.

Brad held up his hands. “I was not looking at your girlfriend,” he said before jabbing a finger at Oliver. “He’s a fucking liar.”

Both of them looked… guilty. Like children stuck with their hands in the cookie jar.

“Why don’t you boys turn and watch the game we’re playing, hmm? Perhaps there is a reason we are down so much,” Coach Nurse growled.

Everyone stopped.

Charles bounced his legs up and down, up and down, twisting his hockey stick in his hands. He would need to wrap a new one soon, the edges of this one catching and twisting as he rotated it around and around.

It didn’t matter if Brad looked at Crystal, because there was no chance she would ever be interested in him. And he had Shelby and Maren to fight over; it’s not like he would ever want or need her.

Still, it set off the same alarm bells that it had when he had asked about Niko.

Sighing, Coach gestured for them to go back in. “And focus this time! You boys are acting as if you have never held a stick before.”

It wasn’t wrong, per se, but it certainly wasn’t helping morale.

Charles grit his teeth together, at least happy to be back on the ice. There was still time to turn this game around. There had been worse games that they’d come back from, they could do this.

He could hear one of the other players snarking at Hunter, some sort of shitty thing that would only serve to rile everyone else up. Maybe if they all spent less time snarking and more time playing they wouldn’t be getting their asses handed to them so thoroughly.

It took three plays for everything to wear thin for both Brad and Hunter. Three plays of the other team, announcers, and their own team shit talking before Brad tripped one of the opposing wingers.

“You’re gonna end up in the penalty box again,” Charles said as he chased after Brad and Hunter. “You’re just fucking asking for it this time.” It wouldn’t be the first time they’d ended up there tonight, and with them playing like that it certainly wouldn’t be the last.

Unless they got ejected from the game.

This game was already going so poorly, the last thing they needed was to be down a player or two. Even thinking about tripping someone seemed like tempting fate in the wrong direction.

“We’re making a comeback, Chucky!” Hunter said as he slapped him on the back. As if that meant it didn’t matter how rough they were, as long as they could justify it.

And if the refs didn’t call it. Which they hadn’t, for some reason.

Which was bullshit. They didn’t get to be assholes about everything just because they were sore losers.

Hunter glared at him when he pointed this out. “Not being a sore loser. Not if we win.”

Charles rolled his eyes. That was an attitude that led to people getting hurt, to good players making bad choices all so they could– what? Win a game that they had been fairly beaten at? No, it didn’t work like that, or at least it shouldn’t.

He risked a glance up at the stands where he knew his friends were sitting and tried to get a glimpse at Edwin. He’d been steadily not looking up at him, refusing to even peek, just in case he saw how disappointed he was. He wished he could tell him that he wasn’t throwing this game, that he really was trying to win this thing, but everything seemed to be stacked against him.

Just like their first date. It’s like they were cursed or something, doomed to never have anything ever go the way they planned.

Well, not a date, he guessed. But something close to it, something he could use to pretend if he tried hard enough. Dream material for ages, honestly.

The crowd around him chanted, one of the team’s cheers he’d heard a million times over. Did Edwin know the cheers yet? Had Niko taught them to him? It was hard to imagine uptight, pissy Edwin doing any of them, but Edwin did have a way of surprising him, didn’t he?

Despite the distance that separated them, he could tell Edwin was staring at him, as if he had been simply waiting for him to look up. Weakly, almost as if he were shy, Edwin raised his hand, a weak ‘go team’ movement if ever there was one, but it more than inspired him.

“Mack!” Charles called, skating over to his captain. He barely glanced at him, but Charles could tell he was listening as they moved back to line up.

“Brad and Hunter are about to land themselves permanently in the penalty box if they don’t knock it off,” Charles said. He would never want to tell Mack how to lead his team, but someone needed to get them under control.

Mack glanced towards the two who were already lined up. “‘Preciate you looking out, but I got them,” he said.

Dismissed. Fine, Charles could take a hint, despite what other people might think. If Mack didn’t want his opinions on things, then he could keep them to himself.

“Narc,” Brad said as he lined up. “You wanna run to mommy next time?”

Charles gripped his stick and stared straight ahead, past everyone. Answering him when he was pissed off would only set him off further and that was the last thing he wanted to do right now.

There would be time later to deal with this, when Charles wasn’t desperate to hold everything together long enough to win.

It wasn’t even because of the date he was trying to win, although that did play a big part in it. These games were important to him, and while he knew they were important to the rest of the team, too, it was sometimes hard to tell that.

He didn’t want to win because Brad and Hunter went around tripping and sticking people. He wanted to win because he had been good enough, that through it all Charles had still managed to come out on top in a fair fight.

Mack shot the puck, clearly aiming for Charles. He snatched it up, his stick darting out faster than everyone else as he tried to navigate around the other team.

Their winger was fast, however, and cut him off. Charles turned, trying to save the puck. If he could do that then they might stand a chance, they might be able to turn this all around and–

Something slammed into him from the side, forcing his entire body into the boards. His helmet, which thankfully stayed on, cracked against the glass so loud he was sure it must have broken something in the process.

His stick fell from his hands seconds before he hit the ice.

A collective gasp went up from the stands, and the first thing he thought was “oh fuck, Edwin just watched me wipe out, that’s fucking humiliating,” and the second thought was, “oh fuck, that hurts.”

Someone’s hands were on him, helping him sit up and calling his name. He tried to focus on who it was, but all he could think of was how much this hurt and that he just didn’t want anyone to see him anymore.

The refs conferred around him, debating on which penalty, if any, should be given to the other team. But Charles had already checked out and decided that none of that was any of his concern.

“Come on, up, up,” Mack said, helping Charles to his feet. One of the refs directed him towards where their medic was, and he could barely hear the words ‘concussion’ and ‘testing’ muttered under their breaths as the crowd clapped around them.

A couple of underclassmen came over to help him back towards the locker rooms where he knew an athletic trainer and medic would likely check him over. He tried to ignore the way the ice scraping against his skates felt like sandpaper to his brain, the way all he wanted to do was close his eyes and block out all the light reflecting off of the ice.

No one said anything as they led him back, one of the assistant coaches following along behind him. At the last second, he risked a glance behind him, checking through the tunnel that led back out onto the ice for a chance to try and see how Niko, Crystal, or Edwin had reacted.

But they were gone.

XXX

Whoever decided locker rooms needed fluorescent lights or that exam tables should be this hard should be fired.

“Looks pretty good to me,” the athletic trainer, Cal, said. “You’re still gonna have to get checked again before you can practice. And probably wanna have someone stay with you tonight, just to be safe.”

Charles sighed, despite the pain. It wasn’t good, he knew, but it was way better than it could have been. A minor concussion wasn’t great, but he could live with it. A few checkups, a couple of missed practices, and he could potentially still play in next week’s game if he were lucky.

Luck hadn’t been on his side much in his recent experiences, but Charles was an optimistic chap.

A bright head of white hair popped around the corner, her eyes firmly covered by her hand, as if Charles or some other guy might be naked in there at the moment. “Knock knock!” she said.

Cal smiled and patted Charles on the back. “Gimme a sec, and I’ll get those papers for you to sign and take home.”

“Cheers,” Charles said as he tried to smile. It pulled the skin on his face wrong, as if that somehow affected his head as well and caused it to ache even more.

Niko bounced over, a worried smile on her face. He could tell that she was trying to hide it, to pretend like everything was fine just in case he needed her to do so.

He didn’t. Because everything was fine.

“Embarrassing, innit?” he asked. “Getting laid out like that?”

Niko nodded as she climbed up on the table with him. “Definitely. Though, I think it was almost worth it to see Coach Nurse rip into the refs on their, and I’m quoting here, “piece of garbage calls, what are you blind?”

He let out a snort as he laid his head on her shoulder. “Well, as long as someone called them out,” he said, thinking of Brad and Hunter getting away with too many things that night.

He wouldn’t be surprised if the other team had been taking their own cheap shots throughout the night, too.

A strange look passed over Niko’s face, an emotion that Charles couldn’t name. Or maybe he could, if he could think about it for longer than two seconds without everything hurting.

“Edwin nearly worked himself up into a fit,” Niko said, her face returning to a soft, familiar smile. “I thought we were going to have to carry him out of the stands. Or that he was going to beat the medics to you, it was really a toss up which one.”

Charles smiled and shook his head. Instantly he regretted it, the sharp throb of pain that radiated from his bump enough to make him stop. “I’m sure he wasn’t that bad,” Charles said.

Niko leaned in, still smiling. “He was.” Her smile fell slightly, her joking tone slipping away as easily as it had come. “He was actually really worried about you. We all were,” she said.

Charles sighed. He hadn’t tried to worry anyone. It’s not like he had meant to get hit, after all. That was just the nature of the game. You took some hits, you gave some hits, and sometimes you got hurt, same as any other sport.

“I’m fine. Brills, even,” he said and gave her a huge smile. “You know a little thing like this won’t keep me down.”

Niko nodded. “I know. I just…”

He frowned. “What’s wrong?” Because he knew that look. Nothing good ever came from that look.

“Nothing,” Niko said. Too fast, too wrong.

“Niko,” he tried again. Still, she only shook her head.

The door swung open, and Coach Nurse stepped in. Charles expected her eyes to narrow in on him, or even Cal who had been treating him, but she didn’t. Instead, her attention focused on Edwin and Crystal, huddled in a corner just outside the door.

Charles hadn’t even known they were there. Honestly, he’d assumed they had left after he’d left the ice.

“You,” Coach Nurse said, and pointed at Edwin. “Out here. Now.”

Edwin nodded, not even seeming to be surprised by this. Unlike Charles, who had never thought he’d see the day the two of them crossed over.

For a moment, Charles thought Crystal was going to go with them, her hand raised up like she might try and pull Edwin back, but she didn’t. Instead, she turned to Charles and smiled.

“Hey,” she said as she crossed the room. “How’re you doing? What’s the news?”

Charles wouldn’t be distracted. “What was up with that?” he asked, pointing with his thumb to the still swinging door.

Everything seemed off, and Charles couldn’t even blame it on his head injury. It felt as though he were being left out of conversations left and right, and it was actually starting to piss him off.

“Dunno,” Crystal said, the lie quick on her tongue. “She just wanted to talk to Edwin.”

Yeah, right. Like she just wanted to talk to Edwin. Charles didn’t even know if Coach Nurse knew who Edwin was, muchless actually cared enough to speak to him while the game was still going.

It was hard to tell how much time had passed since they had stepped out, but Charles felt like every second was an eternity. He couldn’t explain why he felt like there was something wrong about the whole thing, just that something about it seemed off.

He thought that he might get some answers when they came back, but instead, Edwin ducked his head so low his chin nearly touched his chest. Half of his face was practically hidden by the hood gathered on his neck, and it made him seem young in a way nothing other than sleep had ever made Edwin seem.

Coach Nurse did have that effect on people. Still, it seemed odd for even someone like Edwin to be affected by it.

“So,” she said, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “They tell me you have a concussion.”

Charles nodded and once more regretted it. “S’what they said,” he said, handing her the papers to check herself.

She did, nodding at them as she read. “Well. I suppose we should be lucky you have such a hard head, Rowland, or this result could have been much worse.”

Was that a joke? Had Coach Nurse actually made a joke?

He blinked and wondered if he looked as confused as he felt.

“Well, in any case,” she continued and handed him back his papers. “You are dismissed from the game. Go home, rest, and do not even think about showing up for practice until Wednesday. During which, we will have you checked out again before you even think about practicing.”

Charles grit his teeth and sighed. He wanted to argue that the papers said he only had to hold off on two days of practice unless his head injury got worse, but he knew it wouldn’t matter. That she’d made up her mind and there would be no swaying her, no matter how convincing his argument was.

She had called him hardheaded, but she was just as bad.

She spoke to Cal and the assistant coach as they planned for his next exam. He was given strict instructions on what to do in case other symptoms showed up, or if anything got worse, before Coach Nurse had to go back to the game.

“Just have your roommate check in on you tonight,” Cal said. “It’s all in the instructions.”

Charles frowned. “I don’t have a roommate.”

Cal’s face fell. “Oh. Well, uh,” he glanced towards Niko, who he knew, and Crystal and Edwin, who he likely didn’t, and made some sort of vague gesture. “Do you have a friend who can stay with you?”

To everyone’s surprise, it was Edwin who answered first. “Yes.”

Crystal, Niko, and even Charles himself gave him a look of disbelief. He squirmed under the weight of all their attention, and there was something almost funny about a figure skater being shy about getting stared at.

“Wonderful,” Cal said, though his voice lacked the enthusiasm the word usually needed. “I’m just gonna…”

He left without another word.

“I can stay with you,” Niko said, which made Edwin frown.

“You don’t have to do that, Niko,” Charles said. He pulled on his jersey, sliding it off over his head so he could finish taking his pads off. He’d already removed his skates and shin pads, but he was dying to get out of the rest of his gear.

It was with no small amusement that he noticed Edwin’s eyes darting up to the ceiling, staring at it as if Charles had stripped down naked in front of him and not just removed his jersey. He still had his pads and compression shirt on underneath, but you would have thought from the burn on Edwin’s cheeks that Charles had nearly flashed him.

Neither one of the girls so much as blinked as he did so.

“Well, someone has to,” Niko said. “And I don’t mind!”

Charles sighed and balled up his jersey in his hands. “No one actually has to, I’m fine,” Charles said.

Because he was. A little bit of sleep with some well-timed alarms and he’d be fine.

“I could do it,” Edwin said, his voice soft. His head was still tilted back slightly as he steadily avoided eye contact with everyone. “It would be no trouble.” He sounded like he meant it, and Charles knew by now that Edwin didn’t offer things just to be polite.

“He does know all the signs,” Crystal said. Which only made Charles question again how many times Edwin had been hurt skating before.

Or how many times he’d been hurt by Simon, specifically.

He wanted to argue. Everyone was just being paranoid about this, he’d certainly taken worst hits from his dad before, but Charles knew when he’d lost.

It seemed as if he would be spending the night with Edwin Payne.

XXX

Or, rather, it seemed as if Edwin would be spending the night with him.

They’d settled on Charles’s place, citing his own comfort and closeness for a reason why. Honestly, Charles figured he could have crashed anywhere, if he was given a flat enough surface, but he wasn’t going to fight any more than he already had tonight.

Edwin shifted Charles’s bag up higher on his shoulder as they walked, something he had insisted he carry. All of his protests had fallen on deaf ears as Edwin had snatched it up without so much as a wince or even a huff and insisted Charles lead the way.

Charles glanced at his phone and winced as the bright light filled the night air. It seemed entirely too bright, more like the concentrated power of the sun than a cell phone screen.

“You should avoid screens,” Edwin said. “Especially in the low light.”

Charles looked over at him and blinked the spots from his vision. Right, he certainly wouldn’t be trying that again. “You got a lot of experience in concussions?” he asked. Because Crystal had made it sound like he did, and this was just one more secret about Edwin that he wanted to know.

“You want to know the main difference between figure skaters and hockey players? Sports wise, not personality,” Edwin asked.

“S’this a riddle?” Charles joked. When Edwin didn’t even crack a smile, he shrugged and tried to pretend that failing to make him smile didn’t upset him. “Grace?”

“Hockey players wear protection. Helmets, pads, gloves. Figure skaters do not.”

A brief flash of what his injury would have looked like without his helmet shot through his mind, and Charles wanted to be sick. He couldn’t imagine anyone, Edwin or otherwise, smashing into the boards like that without gear.

“Fuck,” Charles muttered.

Edwin said nothing.

“Guess it’s a good thing figure skating isn’t, like, a contact sport,” Charles said. He tried to lighten his tone, but there was nothing light about this conversation.

It should have been. With any other person, figure skater or otherwise, Charles felt as though this conversation would be normal and not filled with hidden traps neither one of them seemed to realize they were setting.

“No, but hockey is,” Edwin said, throwing him for a loop. “Which is why teamwork is so important, yes? You need to be able to trust your team. Really, truly, trust them.”

Charles stopped walking and turned towards Edwin, forcing him to do the same. His fists pressed together, hard enough that his sore wrist was likely aching as he nervously stood in front of him.

This was important. He could tell it was, could sense the magnitude of what Edwin was wanting him to understand, even if he couldn’t understand what he was telling him.

“Yeah, mate. I’d say trust is like, one of the main things a team needs,” he said.

“Right!” Edwin said. “So, with that in mind, I have something to tell you.”

Charles leaned forwards, concussion be damned. He felt like he was on the edge of something important, like the answers to every question he had ever had about Edwin was at the tip of his fingers if only he knew how to open the box.

“Anything,” he said, almost too quickly.

“Don’t say that,” Edwin said. “Not unless you really mean it.”

He paused and Charles realized he was waiting for him to actually say it. “I do. I mean it.”

Edwin nodded and dropped his hands to his side. His eyes briefly moved away from Charles, instead looking up into the night sky like the answer or the strength to answer might be there.

“Your team let you down tonight,” Edwin said.

Was it possible for a concussion to suddenly get worse? Because he wasn’t sure he understood what Edwin had said. “What?” he asked.

“Your teammates, Brad and Hunter?” Edwin said, almost as if he were unsure of their names. “They let you get hit. On purpose.” He paused for a moment, the words settling around them like heavy weights. “Maybe you couldn’t see it from the ice, but from the stands it was… obvious.”

Laughs burst out of him. It was his first instinct, to laugh at how fucking ridiculous he sounded. Let him get hit? This was hockey, people got hit all the time, you didn’t have to let it happen. It just… happened.

He’d thought Edwin was finally going to tell him what the deal was between him and Simon. That he might actually get some sort of insight into who Edwin was and why skating was so important to him. Why he trained like a madman, yet didn’t have his own skating times on campus.

Why he had the kind of skills he did and yet was going to the same school Charles was.

“That’s a good one,” Charles said, lightly fist bumping Edwin in the arm. “Probably shouldn’t laugh that hard with a concussion, but it was a good one.” Charles turned and started walking towards his dorm once more.

Edwin frowned but hurried up to follow him anyways. “Charles! This is not a joke!” he said. He huffed slightly, Charles’s bag bumping against his back, and Charles felt guilty that he’d forgotten he was even carrying it.

“Brad and Hunter?” Charles asked, just to make sure he had it right. Edwin nodded. “Let the other team hurt me? Mate, you’ve got it all wrong.”

Edwin huffed and hitched his bag up once more. “Then explain it to me.”

Charles rolled his eyes. “The whole point is to get the puck from whoever’s got it, yeah? And sometimes that means you slam them into the boards. And sometimes when you slam people into the boards, they get hurt.”

“I am not an idiot,” Edwin snapped. “I know the rules. I’ve looked them up since the last game. I am merely telling you what I witnessed with my own two eyes.”

Charles stopped again and rounded on him. “And what? You saw them just wave those guys over so they could hit me? Get real, Edwin.”

Even in the low light Charles could see Edwin’s face was burning red again, this time from frustration and not embarrassment. “They did not need to wave them over; they chose not to stop them!”

Charles stepped forward, intending to put his hands on Edwin’s shoulders, to reassure him that he was sure none of that was true– it was likely just a trick of the light, but stopped when he registered Edwin’s reaction.

Edwin stepped back, so fast and quick that Charles hadn’t even come close to touching him. There was a guarded look in his eyes, something Charles hadn’t seen in a while. At least not when it was just the two of them.

His actions seemed to register to him a moment later, and an apologetic look came to his face. “Charles–”

But it was too late. The look had already dug a deep gash into Charles’s heart. He stepped back from Edwin, furthering the distance between them, and put his arms stiffly out to his side.

“Don’t,” Charles said. Because he didn’t want to hear Edwin try and rationalize any of this. Because that’s what he would do, he knew.

“But Brad and Hunter–”

“Edwin. Don’t,” Charles said.

Neither one of them said anything. Crickets and cars competed to be heard over the silence that hung between them like a physical force.

Charles was familiar with heavy silences. His mum would say they were ‘serious silences’ when he was little, which had only made Charles wonder if there was such a thing as a happy silence.

It had taken him years to realize that there were. Silences with Niko were rare, due to the fact that they both loved to talk each other’s ears off, but they were cool and comfortable, like a breeze on a summer’s day.

The silences he shared with Edwin varied. But his favorite were the warm ones, the ones that made him feel like he’d cozied up to a fire after playing in the snow all day.

This wasn’t one of those. This was a serious silence, with weight and consequences and whoever broke it first had better be willing to pay for it.

Edwin did. He was braver than Charles, he would give him that credit.

“We should get you home,” Edwin said softly. “You need your rest.”

Charles stared at him and wondered if it were too late to call Niko.

“Fine,” he agreed.

The silence lingered, dark gray clouds covering every bit of them as they walked.

Edwin checked his watch, likely seeing some sort of message that had come through. He grimaced and quickly put his hand down.

“What?” Charles asked.

Edwin only shook his head.

Charles rolled his eyes. “Great, you insult my friends and then go quiet,” he said. Because he was petty and in pain and didn’t know what else to do.

Somehow, though, he forgot Edwin was just as petty.

“You just lost your bet,” Edwin said.

Well, fuck.

Notes:

someone actually asked last chapter if I had a playlist for this fic, and it occurred to me, that I am the worst about sharing information across multiple sources, because yes! I do! link here!

Chapter 15: I'm On the Edge While You're So Goddamn Polite and Composed

Summary:

"The secrets you give and the secrets you keep,
and nevertheless it's never you let,
it's more that I give and the less that I get,
Don't tell me to fight, to fight for you,
after this long I shouldn't have to
I know you're fine, but what do I do?
[...]
I know you're fine but what if I fallout?
- Fallout by Marianas Trench

It felt like everything was in slow motion as Edwin watched Charles get slammed into the boards. It wasn’t the first time he had seen it happen, not even the first time that night, but it was the first time it had happened and he didn’t immediately get back up.

Something heavy and oily slithered in his stomach. Fear moved through him so fast he was convinced that he might be sick in the stands if Charles wasn’t back up and moving right that second.

“Shit,” Crystal muttered under her breath.

Niko, next to him, tugged him back down into his seat by his hoodie sleeve. Passively he went, his eyes never once leaving Charles as the refs helped him up.

“They did it on purpose,” Edwin said.

Crystal jerked her eyes away. “What?”

He started to stand, to go down and– and do something about what they’d all just seen, but Niko held firm in her grip on his arm. “Sit,” she practically hissed.

How was he supposed to just sit by when Charles was hurt? When his own fucking teammates had let it happen?

Oh, he’d seen the way Brad and Hunter both had chosen to step to the side when it came to watching Charles’s back. It hadn’t mattered most of the game, but in that split second right before Charles had been hit it meant everything.

They did it. On purpose.

“His teammates let him get hit,” Edwin whispered. Whispered, when all he wanted to do was shout, scream, point out that the two people who should have had his back most let him get hurt.

“Edwin…” Crystal said and trailed off. “I’m sure… I’m sure that’s not what happened.”

He looked away from the ice, long enough to look at both Niko and Crystal. Twin eyes of concern looked back at him, but only one of them seemed to understand.

“A lot happens on the ice,” Niko said softly. “I’m sure they just didn’t see it happening.”

If this were anyone else, Edwin could believe it. Possibly. But he knew what Brad and Hunter were like, and had heard Charles off-handly complain about them in that way he did, where he was trying to make it like he wasn’t complaining or upset. Like he didn’t have a reason to complain that his friends invaded his room and played his game system and ate his snacks.

And maybe if they were better people, he wouldn’t have. All of those actions sounded almost word for word exactly what living in a dorm was like at times, especially with your friends nearby, but it seemed different between them.

Perhaps Edwin was simply reading too much into things, looking for hints of things that weren’t there.

Pessimistic, as his mother would say. Pragmatic, his father would counter.

“It’s their literal job to know what’s happening on the ice,” Edwin said. He hated how harsh his tone was, especially at Niko. She didn’t deserve any of that.

Thankfully, she didn’t seem to mind. She wrapped her arms around his and laid her head on his shoulder. “He’s fine, see? He’s getting up,” she said.

Overhead the announcers blared. “And whoo, yeah, give it up for Rowland, number 89 for the Dragons! Yeah, it must be pretty hard to get back up when your head literally bounced like a basketball off the glass, am I right?”

“You’re so right, Litty,” the other said. “Also, ew, don’t mix up your sports. This is hockey, his head bounced like a puck.”

“Pucks don’t bounce like that.”

Edwin was going to be sick.

He covered his eyes with his hands, just to lessen the feeling, but breathing exercises only helped so much when the stands smelled like stale food and far too many students. His throat burned as the image of Charles being laid out on the ice came back to him. But what was he supposed to do?

“Let’s go check on him,” Crystal said, standing up as everyone else stood around them and clapped. “Come on. Let’s go.”

Unsteadily, Edwin made his way down the stairs while Niko and Crystal followed close behind. He wasn’t even sure where he was going, just… not there.

Nothing registered to him anymore. Everything felt like… pain? And confusion? He just needed to get off the ice and to the… where, exactly? His brain felt honey slow and everything hurt.

A blue, fuzzy lizard invaded his vision and for a moment Edwin was convinced that he had gone insane, before he realized it was the mascot. It seemed to be reaching out to him, maybe even helping him down the stairs? But that made no sense, and Edwin didn’t want anything to touch him, not even this… thing. So he pulled back, nearly stumbling the last few feet down the stairs.

His legs didn’t work. Why couldn’t he make his legs work? There had to be some reason for the disconnect, something that wasn’t getting through to the rest of him.

Oh, right. That would be the pain doing that.

“Step off, furry,” Crystal said, and the dragon disappeared.

“Here,” Niko said, and snagged his arm. Without thinking, he jerked his arm back to himself, unable to stand the thought of anything touching him right now.

“I got him,” Crystal said. “You lead the way.”

Niko nodded, as Edwin steadily avoided eye contact. The look of surprise on her face had been mortifying enough, he didn’t need to know what else she saw when she looked at him.

“You good?” Crystal asked.

Almost as if on autopilot, Edwin followed Niko and Crystal down towards the hallway he knew led to the locker rooms. There was a space there for the athletic trainer to check out students, a place Edwin himself had had to be evaluated more than once since arriving on campus.

It wasn’t his favorite place, but at least this was familiar territory.

“Charles is the one who just got hurt and you are asking me if I am ‘good’?” Edwin said. And he didn’t care how bitter his tone sounded, and neither did Crystal, he knew. That was one thing he loved about her, they could be utter assholes to each other sometimes and it didn’t matter. Or, it did, but not like it did to other people, not with the same consequences.

Patiently she stood in front of him, her arms crossed over her chest. “I can be worried about two people,” she said. For a brief moment he thought she might leave it there, that she had said her peace and would be done with him, but he could never be that lucky.

“So you actually think that? You think his teammates did that on purpose?” she asked quietly.

“I do,” Edwin said. “I can’t prove it, but… I saw the way they hesitated.”

He had also seen the way they had moved their sticks around on the ice, purposefully placing themselves in the way of where Charles was needing to go. It was a small, but petty thing to do, and Edwin didn’t know if Charles would have even registered it as having been on purpose.

Even Edwin might not have if it wasn’t for the results.

Crystal knew him better than anyone on Earth. She had to believe him, to know that he would never joke about something like this or make up something like this to be dramatic.

“Well, you would know about shitty teammates,” she said, letting out a burst of air. Edwin couldn’t help the catch in his throat at her words that quickly morphed into a laugh.

One of the assistant coaches blew past them on her way to the medical area. She gave them a strange look, but didn’t say anything, and neither did Crystal or Edwin until she was gone again.

“So you’re good?” she asked. “Because I’m sure he’s fine. He got up and moved off the ice on his own, they’re probably just being careful.”

“I know,” Edwin said. Good was a relative term, he supposed.

“But I can check first, if you want,” Crystal said. “Niko and I can go in there first and…”

Edwin shook his head. “No, it’s fine,” he said. Because he was stronger than that, had to be stronger than that.

He wished he had an ounce of Niko or Crystal’s spirit regarding the matter. Upbeat, unbreakable. What he wouldn’t give to feel that way for five seconds.

He wondered if this was how Crystal had felt after Edwin’s own accident. Stuck, waiting outside his hospital room because no one knew exactly what was wrong or had happened just yet.

If it was, he had been far too harsh to her in those days.

“Fine,” Crystal said, nodding her head and leaning back up against the wall behind her. “We can just stay out here.”

Edwin looked at her. “Just for a moment,” he said, as if he needed to catch his breath.

Neither one of them moved. If Edwin stayed out here, he would never have to find out something was wrong. Until he walked through those doors and someone personally gave him bad news, everything would be fine.

It took a while, but eventually Charles’s coach stormed past them. She stepped into the room, as if she might be checking on Charles, before whipping around and pointing at Edwin.

“You. Out here. Now,” she said.

There was no choice but to follow her.

“One of my assistants say you think this was done on purpose,” she said, her eyes narrowed at him.

Edwin straightened his back. He had heard, not only from Charles, that she was a woman to be feared, one who took her coaching far more seriously than a lot of other coaches out there. That, under her direction, she could whip a team into shape in less than six months, and literally take losing teams to championships.

But Edwin wasn’t scared. He’d been trained by far, far worse.

He said nothing. Instead, he stared at her, challenging her to say something else.

For a moment it was nothing but a staring contest. “That is a big accusation,” she said. Not relenting, not breaking, but angling for something more.

“It is,” Edwin said.

She nodded. “You are one of the new figure skaters, correct? Not Dolores’s, but…”

Edwin felt cold, clammy sweat form on his palms, that nervous feeling finally hitting him. “King’s. My coach is King.”

“Right,” she said, nodding her head again. “But not entirely. I believe the paperwork says otherwise.”

Of course, she had seen the paperwork. Most of the ice rink had been under the care of the lead hockey coach. She was the one who signed off on rink agreements, the one who scheduled things like that. Until recently, there hadn’t really been any need for anyone else to do so.

“Clerical error,” Edwin said.

“I do not make those.”

“Technicalities, then” Edwin tried again.

She smiled at him, that tightlipped, not quite there smile. It reminded him of an animal right before they bared their teeth to bite you.

“Well, if you happen to think of anything else, ‘technicalities’ or otherwise, let me know,” she said, staring at Edwin just to make sure he truly understood her.

He nodded, his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. He probably couldn’t have spoken, even if he wanted to.

And he did. He wanted to tell her what he had witnessed from Brad and Hunter, not only on the play that got Charles hurt, but on other ones as well. The way they were excessively rough, even with their own team, the way they let more and more hits go by on their team the worse the score got, as if they were spoiling for a fight.

But he didn’t. And she let him go, both of them going in to check on Charles.

It had seemed obvious that Edwin should be the one to take care of Charles that night. Or at least it had to him. From the look on Charles’s face, this was a debatable fact.

Still, it seemed like the best option they had. Edwin was familiar with concussions, Niko and Crystal had plans, and someone had to stay with Charles. All in all, it truly did seem as if it had all come together rather smoothly.

Until Edwin opened his big mouth.

He’d known the risk he was taking by mentioning what he had witnessed, had known that it would put Charles in a rather difficult position, yet he couldn’t imagine a world where Charles didn’t want to know.

Which was this one, apparently.

He had to remind himself that Charles’s injury wasn’t that bad. That he had been cleared to go home and wouldn’t even need another check up until before his next practice.

But that moment, when he’d hit the ice and hadn’t moved? It had felt like all of the air had been sucked from Edwin’s lungs and jettisoned far, far away. A hit like that, cracking his head against the boards? That could be a serious injury, even with his helmet on.

And if he hadn’t been wearing his helmet?

Edwin pressed his fists together so hard his wrist burned. He could tell Charles was watching him out of the corner of his eye, but he said nothing.

That was probably for the best.

He thought back to that angry look that had shot across his face, the one that had quickly been replaced with something else the second Edwin had stepped back from him. It had been instinctual, some part of his brain that had just been hardwired to step away from anyone who looked like they might want a physical confrontation.

Other than Simon, he supposed, but that was nothing new. He and Simon were always the worst exceptions to each other.

But he’d known Charles wouldn’t have done anything and yet he’d still done it. Backed up from him like he had been a threat.

Edwin chewed on his cheek as he tried to think of something, anything, to smooth this over.

He’d known that the chance of Charles taking his information about Brad and Hunter well had been a long shot, but he hadn’t expected him to simply brush him off. To not even believe him when he’d said they had let him get hurt.

Once again, he tried to remind himself that he and Charles didn’t actually know each other that well, despite the… feelings he had felt growing for him over the last couple of months.

Or maybe it was simply Edwin who didn’t know Charles well. Despite what some people might believe, Edwin had always been fantastic when it came to reading people, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be wrong.

It also didn’t mean that he didn’t tend to press people’s buttons in all the wrong ways, regardless of his readings.

Charles marched them up past the security door and up the stairs to his dorm. The halls were relatively quiet, all things considered, and Edwin wondered if everyone was out for the night.

“This is it,” Charles said, before digging out his keys and swinging open the door.

The first thing that surprised Edwin was how… lived-in Charles’s room felt. Not dirty, per se, although there was certainly his fair share of laundry and miscellaneous items scattered everywhere, but there were simply… things in his room. Pictures, a lamp, a framed hockey jersey, album posters. One bed was lofted up into the air, with a desk tucked underneath it, while the other was left down, an assortment of different pillows and blankets on it almost making it look like a couch rather than a bed.

A TV and game system sat on the spare desk between the beds in front of the window. Lights ringed the edges of the window, and Edwin couldn’t help but wonder if Niko had had a hand in all that.

His dressers were covered in different products. Cologne, hair care products, deodorant, all things that Edwin usually kept stashed away in the bathroom cabinet. But, Edwin supposed, that wasn’t really an option in a shared living space like a dorm floor.

The other dresser, he noted, was used to hold snacks.

“When you said you had no roommate, I had assumed you lived in a single,” Edwin said, the first words he’d spoken since they’d… argued outside.

Charles looked back over the room. “No,” he said. Then, he sighed and shifted his head around like it hurt. “I mean, they just never assigned me a roommate.”

Edwin looked at the way all of Charles’s belongings had spread out over the room. “That is a good thing, I suppose.”

Charles sighed and toed his shoes off. Edwin did the same, unsure what else he should be doing. He placed Charles’s bag down in a place it looked like it was its probable home, and stretched out his back.

What did hockey players even carry in there? And were they allergic to rolling bags, like Edwin had?

Charles dug around in his wardrobe for a moment, before drawing out another hoodie and a couple pairs of shorts. “Here,” he said, and handed them to Edwin.

Edwin blinked as he looked down at the clothes in front of him. “What are these for?”

He thought Charles might roll his eyes or smart off to him or at least do something, but he didn’t. “For sleeping in? Unless you want to sleep in that.”

Edwin glanced down at what he was wearing. The hoodie would be fine, but he supposed the nicer trousers he was wearing really weren’t the best sleeping material.

But he also wasn’t going to wear a pair of shorts.

“Oh, no thank you,” Edwin said, handing them back to him.

He could see the annoyance hide behind Charles’s eyes. He was pretty good at hiding it, even when Edwin was doing his best to be annoying, but he still caught a glimpse of it from time to time.

“Just take ‘em, mate. The bed’ll be bad enough, don’t make it worse by sleeping in pleated trousers.”

Edwin looked down at his pants. “There are no pleats in these.”

“Not the point,” Charles said, gently shoving them at him again. “Just… just take them, okay? Tonight’s been long enough, I don’t wanna fight you on this.”

Edwin did as he was told. Whether he would actually put them on, was another matter altogether. He fussed, his hands alternating between wringing themselves and pressing his fists together. His wrist twinged, but he’d been good about wearing his brace lately, so he ignored it.

He hadn’t really thought about what he would do once they got back to Charles’s dorm. He’d been so concerned with making sure Charles knew what had happened and making sure he was alright, that there hadn’t been room for any other thoughts.

“Can I get you anything?” Edwin asked. As if he knew where anything was in the first place.

“No,” Charles said. Or snapped, really, but Edwin couldn’t fault him for that. His head was likely pounding, and nothing about this night had gone how either one of them had planned.

“Water? Edwin asked. “Food? I can have something delivered.” Then, because he didn’t actually know how it worked, he asked, “Can they deliver to a dorm?”

Charles sighed as he grabbed his shower caddy. “Yeah, they can, but I don’t need anything. Really. Don’t worry about it.”

Don’t worry about it. As if that were a choice Edwin ever had.

It felt as if Charles was shutting him out. Charles, who was usually all smiles and jokes, was cutting Edwin off, and Edwin didn’t know what to do about it.

Anytime anyone else had cut him off he had expected it. It had been almost a forgone conclusion, if they had even let him get that close.

He just hadn’t really expected it from Charles.

“I am sorry,” Edwin said. Because he could apologize, when he felt the need. No matter what Crystal might say, Edwin did know how to do so.

“Nothing to apologize for, mate,” Charles said. “Now I’m gonna go shower. You can… do whatever you want.”

He left. Edwin turned back to the room, which seemed strangely empty now that he was gone. He wasn’t even sure what he should do, now, that they were here. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now…

He sighed and set about fixing what he knew he could. He climbed up onto the edge of Charles’s desk– the only way he could figure out how to get up to the lofted bed, and straightened the covers until it looked cozy and inviting. He fluffed up his pillows, moved his laptop off the bed as well as a few different books, and dragged his phone charger up the side of the bed.

Then, because Charles might not want food or water, but he still needed something, he dug through his assortment of snacks until he found a granola bar and a bottle of water from his minifridge and set it on the bed as well. It certainly wasn’t the best thing he could offer him, but it was what he could do without going further through Charles’s things.

He sighed as he sat down on the spare-bed-turned-couch. Worry gnawed in his stomach, making him wish he had noted the time Charles had gone to shower. Had it been too long? Should he go check on him? Was that over stepping a line? No, that was what he was literally here to do…

On and on he spiraled, his thoughts chasing him around and around until he had nearly worked himself up into a fit. What if his injury was worse than they originally thought? What if he passed out in the shower or tripped or–

The door creaked open and Edwin nearly gasped in surprise.

Charles walked in, gently toweling off his curls. He took great care to not touch where he’d hit his head, and Edwin was surprised that he had even washed his hair tonight.

The next thing that caught his attention was Charles’s shirt. While he’d handed Edwin a hoodie to sleep in, it would seem he preferred to sleep in the cut-up muscle shirts Edwin had seen him wear around the gym at the rink before.

He’d never looked at him, always making sure to keep his eyes averted, but now, with just the two of them in the room, it seemed so difficult to do. Stretches of brown skin were visible through the large holes he’d made for the sleeves, and really, what was the difference between that and being shirtless?

Edwin tried not to think about him actually being shirtless.

“How was your shower?” Edwin asked, immediately failing at that.

Charles almost jumped, as if he hadn’t been expecting Edwin to still be there, though, where Edwin would have gone he wasn’t sure.

“S’nice,” Charles said. “Not sweaty anymore, at least.”

Edwin nodded. Neither one of them spoke. Edwin watched as Charles returned his shower caddy to its place before turning back to look at Edwin.

“Look,” Charles said, and Edwin’s heart clenched. He couldn’t even really guess what Charles was going to say, but Edwin could tell that he wasn’t going to like it. “You really don’t have to stay here. I’m fine. S’really nothing.”

Edwin felt his fists clench against his will. “You have a concussion, Charles. That is not nothing.”

Because it wasn’t. Edwin knew how much concussions hurt, how difficult it made things, even minor ones like Charles had received. And what if it wasn’t minor? What if he got worse, and no one was there to help him?

“You’re fine, Edwin, okay?” Simon said. “You’re fine. Shit. Open your eyes.”

He closed his eyes. He needed to stay here, in this moment.

“I’m fine, mate,” Charles said. “Just peachy. You can go home.”

Edwin inhaled and exhaled twice before he spoke. If he didn’t he might bite, snap, speak too harshly and be sent away.

“I know you might feel fine, but concussions are serious things,” Edwin said.

Edwin stood from his place on the spare bed, narrowing his eyes at Charles. He needed him to understand all of this, that this wasn’t just some crusade against his friends or whatever he was thinking it was. He cared about him.

Against all his better judgement, Charles had needled his way past all of Edwin’s defences and made him care. He made him worry and fear and hope for the best.

“I only want to help,” Edwin said and he hoped his voice didn’t sound as pitiful as it did to his own ears.

Charles snorted. “I don’t need help. I’m fine,” he said, and Edwin’s heart broke a bit.

“Concussions can be difficult,” Edwin said. “They can get worse over time or possibly–”

“I know!” Charles snapped. “You think this is the first time I’ve had a concussion? My d–” He cut himself off, seeming to be surprised by his own words before leaning his head back to look up at his dorm ceiling. “I’ve played for years. I know how this works.”

Edwin stepped forward. He wanted to reach out, to grab on to Charles’s hand to get his point across, but he kept his hands to himself. The last thing he wanted to do right now was overstep more than he already was. “Then you know you should let me help,” he said. Because even Edwin, stubborn to a fault Edwin, knew better than to play around with head injuries.

He had the literal scars to prove it.

Another snort left Charles, harsher and even more bitter than before. “Right, like you do?” he asked.

Ice flooded Edwin’s veins. “What?” he asked.

Charles waved his hand to gesture to Edwin. “You skate until your legs shake and you're bruised to hell and back,” he said. “And now you’re– what? The king of ‘accepting help?’”

The ice was quickly replaced with fire. Liquid anger and hurt washed away almost everything else, and it took all of Edwin’s skills to not snap back at him. “We are not talking about me right now,” he said.

Because they weren’t. This was about Charles and the people who had hurt him. Or rather, the people who had let him get hurt, and probably not for the first time if Edwin was correct.

Charles’s jaw ticked. “Fine. But if we’re talking about me, then I’m fine.”

Edwin let out a breath as he tried to box away all his own emotions about this. “Perhaps I should have let Niko do this,” he said quietly, almost to himself.

“Maybe you should’ve,” Charles said, clearly having heard him anyways. “Why didn’t you?”

Edwin threw his arms out wide, almost asking the universe this very same question. “Because I was worried! Is it a crime to be concerned about you?”

“No one asked you to be, mate!” Charles said, throwing his arms equally as wide. Edwin held back his urge to step away, remembering the sad, almost devastated look Charles had given him earlier when he’d done so outside.

“You didn’t have to,” Edwin said, trailing off.

Even if Edwin didn’t like Charles– which he did, he could admit that now, even if only to himself– he still owed him. From helping him fall asleep at night, to walking him home after skating, to helping him off the ice, he owed him.

And feelings aside, Edwin didn’t like owing people anything.

Neither one of them spoke. Someone down the hall laughed as they slammed a door. It sounded like a group of guys walked by, off-key singing some song before they left the dorm floor.

“Listen,” Charles said, taking a deep breath. “Maybe it would be best if you just left. Go home, get some sleep. You won’t be comfortable here, anyways.”

Edwin couldn’t tell if that was a comment on spending the night with Charles or the quality of the bed. Either way, none of that mattered to Edwin.

“I am sure I’ve slept under worse conditions,” Edwin said. “Besides, coach’s and medics orders. I’m staying.”

Charles turned away, cursing under his breath. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he said and climbed up into his lofted bed. He paused, clearly noticing the granola bar and water Edwin had sat up there before tossing them to the foot of the bed.

“Fine! Then I’ll call Niko. Or Crystal or Jenny or anyone you want to come and stay with you,” he said, his words rushing out in a river as he walked towards the bed. “Anyone other than Brad or Hunter.”

Charles leaned down, glaring at Edwin. “You really can’t let this go. I told you to leave it,” he said.

Edwin glared back .”Could you?” At Charles’s confused look he clarified. “If it were me.”

Quicker than he probably should move, Charles swung his legs over the edge and hopped down from the bed. Edwin could only imagine how much such a movement had hurt his head. At least he was no longer looking down on Edwin, instead standing almost nose to nose with him as they argued.

Edwin much preferred this.

“I do,” Charles said, his voice harsh. “I don’t question whatever weird thing you have going on with Simon or your skating schedules or your dad or your coach or whatever else! I just let it go because you ask me to, so why can’t you just do the same?”

Edwin stared at him for a moment, unsure. He could feel his chin wobble, though he wasn’t sure if that was from him clenching his teeth together or the tears he could feel welling in his throat.

Edwin looked down, unable to take even a moment more of their eye contact. Everything Charles said was fair he supposed, or at least not wrong, but that didn’t make it easier to hear.

He turned around and stepped back over to the spare bed. “Perhaps it would be better if we just went to sleep,” he said.

The blankets and pillows were already disturbed from where he had been sitting earlier, so he wasted no time in curling up on it. The odds of him getting any sleep tonight were almost impossible, but the idea of standing there arguing with Charles was worse.

Charles hovered where he left him standing. But Edwin wouldn’t look at him, no matter how much he wanted to. He was afraid of what he might see there– anger, irritation, or just an expression of simply being done with Edwin.

“So that’s it?” he asked. “We’re just supposed to go to sleep?”

Edwin huffed and rolled over. “I don’t know what you want from me,” Edwin said honestly. “First I talk about it too much, and now you’re angry that I want to set this all aside.”

Charles’s expression closed off. Not that Edwin could see much of it in the low lights that bordered the window. “I guess,” he muttered, although Edwin didn’t have the first clue what that was supposed to mean.

He turned and started to climb up into his lofted bed again before pausing. Edwin felt the hesitation like a hangman’s noose.

“I don’t think you should come to the games anymore,” Charles said. “S’just… you know.”

Edwin didn’t know. He wasn’t sure exactly what he had done wrong in all of this or where this night had gone so wrong. There had been plans to go to the game and grab food afterwards, whether they won or loss– hell maybe even watch a movie at Crystal’s together, just something. Anything really, other than this.

“Noted,” Edwin said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Because what else could he say? He could argue with him some more, or even point out that it wasn’t just Charles’s game, but the whole schools, and as a student Edwin had a right to attend it, but why would he? What would that really gain him here?

Nothing. He’d already lost so much tonight, he couldn’t imagine losing anymore.

He turned over to face the wall and buried his face in one of the pillows. He wanted to cry or scream, just to try and relieve some of the tension he could feel building in his throat and chest, but he wouldn’t do that. Not here, in Charles’s room with him only feet from him.

But the room was so quiet. It reminded Edwin of some of the hotels he’s stayed in with Crystal over the years, that empty, echoing room surrounded by other sleeping strangers, each with their own lives. All of them going from place to place, never interacting and just passing each other by in the hallways without even so much as a word.

At least Crystal would talk to him. Or turn on the TV or her phone, anything other than this unbearable weighted silence.

He wasn’t sure how long he laid there before he heard music start up on the other side of the room. It was familiar, not because he actually knew the song, but because he’d heard it every night that week through Charles’s phone speakers.

It sounded different being in the same room as it. More… full. Somehow more important than it had felt before. Like it was made for him, and not just something Charles used to fall asleep.

And that was when Edwin started to cry.

XXX

The next morning was an awkward affair. Edwin had checked on him a few times throughout the night, both of them unable to sleep much, but other than that they had exchanged almost no actual words.

Charles had been right about the bed though. And the pants. His back and legs ached, leaving him kneading them muscles to try and prevent them from tightening up any further, as they woke up the next morning.

He’d been awake for a while, his early morning habits unfortunately holding true even without an alarm. Charles was a bit slower waking up, though not concerningly so, and Edwin felt relief knowing that he would be able to leave soon.

“How is your head?” Edwin asked. He wanted to check him over, just to make sure he was actually as fine as he was acting, but he already knew that Charles wouldn’t allow him.

“Good. Pretty good, just a little sore,” Charles said. “Just like I knew it would be.”

Edwin nodded. “Good. That is… good.”

“Thanks,” Charles said, not even looking at him. His eyes were shadowed, showing off how little sleep he had managed to get, and his normally lovely curls were rather flat and pressed against his scalp. “For staying.”

Edwin, as if he were unable to resist jabbing at someone who had hurt him back, couldn’t help his response. “Of course. What else was I to do?”

He regretted his words the second they left his mouth, though that did little to take them back. He hadn’t stayed with him because he had to, he’d stayed with him because he’d wanted to. He’d wanted to make sure Charles was alright, that it really was as “minor” as they had deemed it, that nothing bad had actually happened to him. So why was it so hard for him to just say that?

“Right. Wouldn’t want you to have to hang around anymore than you had to,” Charles said.

Edwin winced. Why was this all so hard to get right?

Charles checked his phone and frowned. “You should probably go,” he said, and Edwin almost protested for a moment before Charles continued. “Brad and Hunter are coming over.”

Edwin’s throat immediately closed up, all of his words cut off. He blinked rapidly, fighting back tears he was sure were born out of frustration and nothing else. “Right. Um. Remember to drink plenty of water,” he said, stumbling like an idiot. “And rest. Your eyes and your brain.”

Tired brown eyes met his and Edwin felt a slight sting in that expression. “Again, I know how to take care of myself.”

Edwin could feel the same argument brewing again. ‘If so, then why are Brad and Hunter coming over? Why did you only drink half your water and eat half your granola bar? Yes, I checked. I’m worried. No, it wouldn’t be a big deal for me to stay a while longer.’

Except he couldn’t now. Not with them coming over. He didn’t honestly know what he would do or say if he was put in the same room as them, but it would likely not endear him to Charles anymore than he already was.

“Right,” Edwin repeated, with nothing else to say.

Charles showed him to the door, and Edwin tried not to wince as he walked out. The idea of walking all the way back to his place was not an appealing one, but he had done worse.

Hell, he was up early enough, he might as well go to Crystal’s and at least use the gym. His father really had done a number on his training lately, and he could at least use that.

“Let me know if you need anything,” Edwin said, trying to sound as sincere as he could.

Charles nodded. “Lemme know when you get home,” he said, though he seemed distracted. Almost like he didn’t mean it.

The dorm hall was quiet, everyone likely still sleeping off the Friday night before. Edwin wondered what it was like to live in a dorm. Was it always crazy, like he’d seen in the movies Crystal put on? Or was it more like this, a sort of dull, slow moving atmosphere that encouraged sleep and studying?

He imagined it was somewhere in between. And highly dependent on the dorms, though he hadn’t really heard anyone else aside from a few guys on the floor the night before. Perhaps, when he and Charles were no longer… fighting? Arguing? He would ask him.

Before he could touch the security door to let himself out, it swung open, light leaking in from the stairwell. Edwin jumped, startled by the loud creaking noise, before composing himself a split second before he registered who it was.

Brad stood on the other side of the door, two girls standing right behind him, though they seemed as though they would rather be anywhere else.

“Oh,” Edwin said, unable to hold back his reaction.

Quickly, Brad’s eyes shot up to Edwin’s, whatever words he and the girls had been exchanging immediately halted. “What’re you doing here?” he asked.

What was Edwin doing here? Making a fool of himself? Potentially ruining any chance of a relationship he and Charles might have had together?

“Someone had to watch Charles,” Edwin said. Then, because that didn’t feel like enough information, he continued. “Concussion protocol.”

“So he did have a concussion,” one of the girls said, leaning around Brad. Her eyes were big and sad as she looked at Edwin, and Edwin couldn’t help but be happy that at least someone else other than himself was taking this seriously.

Edwin nodded. “He seems fine this morning. Other than a headache, which is to be expected.” He couldn’t help the sharp look he gave Brad, and suddenly he wished ‘looks could kill’ was more than a saying.

“You’re Edwin, aren’t you?” the girl asked.

This startled Edwin. Did Charles talk about him a lot to her? Who exactly was she?

He looked at her closer, and a spark of recognition hit him. “You are… Shelby, correct? Olympic track star?”

A smile spread across her face like wildfires. “Yes! Oh, I’ve been begging Brad to introduce us, ever since he mentioned Charles and you were hanging out! I’ve got so many questions, I hear you have a great training regime, and I know that it’s not exactly the same thing, but I bet we could, like, compare notes and really help each other out.”

Her words were so quick they were almost a blur to him. He blinked, and noted that the other girl, the one in all black and dark hair, was also smiling.

“What she means is, hi, I’m Maren. And that’s Shelby, and she’s a big fan.”

Edwin was a big fan of hers, too. Her speed was nothing to laugh at, and Edwin had always admired a runner’s ability to just use the only thing they had: their bodies. Figure skaters had the ice, their music, their skates… To be able to impress people with your ability alone was something he envied and admired.

He held out his hand, which Shelby quickly took.

“Jeez,” Brad muttered under his breath. “I’m gonna go check on Charlie. You two stay out here and make out for all I care.”

Edwin couldn’t help but stare in a bit of shock and confusion, while also being relieved that Shelby had done the same.

“Ignore him. He’s just being an ass,” Maren said. “I’ll go with him, make sure he keeps the volume low.”

Edwin doubted that. His main setting seemed to be ‘offensively loud’... and just plain offensive.

“Sorry,” Shelby said. “Brad’s just worried about him.”

Somehow Edwin doubted that, but he’d spent long enough arguing over such a fact. “Right. Well, I really do need to get going,” he said, leaning around her to try and get to the door.

“Right! Sorry,” she said and stepped to the side. “Oh, wait!” She pulled out her phone and waved it at him. “Could I get your number? Or we could follow each other on some social media, if that’s too weird.”

Edwin blinked, and Shebly seemed to misread his confusion for hesitation.

“It’s just… no one else seemed to understand how hard this all is, y’know? Training, eating right, sleeping, studying. I just thought it might be nice to talk to someone who kind of knew what we were going through,” she said. “But it’s totally fine if not.”

That… Actually sounded pretty nice to Edwin. He couldn’t remember the last time he had spoken to someone who was as genuinely passionate about their sport as she was. Both Simon and Charles were wonderful athletes, he would not deny that, but they both had their own reasons for why they were participating in them.

“I would love that,” he said.

Maybe this was what he had needed. Not Charles, who distracted him from practices and encouraged him to take time off and all that stuff. Maybe all he had needed was another student athlete who was as determined as he was, bound for the Olympics.

There was no way to know other than to try.

Chapter 16: If I Hold You Too Close, Will The Good Things Still Grow?

Summary:

"I'm a rockstar,
and I'm never around when you need,
Like a race-care, driving away from the scene,
Does she want me to stay?
Does she want me to pack?
You can't push me any further 'til I start coming back
[...]
Spin me like a globe and drop
your finger on me,
I feel so far, your all I want,"
Edge of the Earth by The Beaches

“This is Edwin Payne, please leave a message.”

“Um, hey, Edwin. I was wondering if you were going to practice at the rink tonight? Just kinda wondering what time I should lock up.”

“This is Edwin Payne, please leave a message.”

“Hey, Edwin. I never heard back from you, so I went ahead and locked up. Have a good night.”

“This is Edwin Payne, please leave a message.”

“Hey, mate. I was just… calling to check in, I guess. But it’s late and you’re probably asleep. Sorry.”

“This is Edwin Payne, please leave a message.”

“I– never mind.”

Charles glared down at the phone in his hand. Edwin’s phone had gone to voicemail, yet again, and it had never been clearer that Edwin was avoiding him. Between the missed (and never returned) phone calls, the unread texts, and the way he was avoiding the rink, it was obvious what was going on. Charles could take a hint.

Even though Crystal had tried to reassure him it was nothing personal. “He’s like a stray cat. Sometimes you just gotta let him be upset for a while.”

He sighed a pressed call again, and to no one’s surprise, Edwin’s phone rang out.

“This is Edwin Payne, please leave a message.”

“Hey, mate, not never mind actually. You don’t have to avoid Crystal's rink or anything, I won’t show up. It’s yours if you wanna use it.” He paused for a moment, trying to determine what else he should say. “The space was yours first, and I’m on light practices for the week anyways. So, if you want it, it’s yours.”

He felt as if he were spinning his wheels. But he couldn’t help it, could he? He needed Edwin to understand that he wasn’t trying to force anything, that he could have the rink space alone if that’s what he needed.

Simon had already made the school rink a hostile place for him to be, Charles didn’t need to take away Crystal’s.

“Anyways, I’ll see you around.”

He hung up. He sat there for a few moments, waiting to see if Edwin was going to call him back or even acknowledge his message, but he never did.

Great. Good to see there was one thing in life Charles was good at and it was apparently fucking up.

He texted Crystal after, to let her know that he wasn’t going to be able to close up the rink that week.

She called him almost immediately.

“Why not? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just didn’t seem right, y’know? Edwin should be allowed to practice there, and I didn’t wanna make things awkward for him,” he said.

Crystal sighed, so heavily it sounded like static. “I told you. He’s fine. It’s only going to get more awkward the longer you avoid each other.”

Charles sighed as he finished gathering up his stuff to go to practice. He wasn’t even sure if he would be able to or not, but he’d rather have all of his stuff with him just in case.

“I’m not avoiding him. He’s avoiding me. And since Simon cut him off from practicing at the rink on campus, I didn’t wanna stress him out about it. I asked Jenny and she said she could do it if I was willing to go in and unlock the door for Mick in the mornings.”

“Fucking Simon,” she muttered under her breath. “Fine. But for the record, I think this is stupid. You two are adults, you can’t just avoid each other every single time one of you pisses the other off.”

Charles wanted to ask her how she would feel if someone had accused her friends of hurting her, then dodged her like she had the fucking plague, but he didn’t want to start a fight with someone else.

“Dunno who you’re keeping a record for, but go ahead,” he said.

“Me. So when I end up in jail or insane they know who to blame,” she said.

“Sounds fun,” he said, halfway paying attention as he struggled to lock the door behind him.

“It’s really not. But fine, as long as Jenny’s okay with it.”

“Thank you, Crystal,” he said. “Now, if you excuse me, I gotta go see a nurse about my head.”

She snorted. “Whatever. Let me know when you two stop being stupid, okay?”

Unfortunately, for everyone involved, Charles had a feeling he and Edwin could be stupid for a very, very long time.

XXX

The athletic trainer’s office smelled like rubber, disinfectant, and a strange mix of whatever body spray the hockey players seemed to be favoring at the moment. It almost made him feel nostalgic for his own school nurse’s office back home, the one he had visited far more than any other kid growing up.

Hockey, his dad, and being a rather ‘rough and tumble’ kid would do that, he supposed.

He bounced his leg, trying to burn off some of that built up energy, but it only seemed to get worse the longer he waited. Would he get the all clear? Had it gotten worse? He hadn’t noticed any more problems, but didn’t that happen with stuff like this sometimes?

“Looks like you’re good,” she said after going through every procedure under the sun Charles could think of. “I would still recommend a light practice for today, though you should be able to return to full practices by the end of the week.”

It was already Wednesday. That was nothing, he could do that. Charles clapped his hands together in excitement. “And the game? On Saturday?”

She nodded. “Provided nothing else happens, you should be good to go for that too.”

He let out a small “whoo!” that had her smiling and rolling her eyes. “Just be careful. And if you have any problems, be sure to inform us immediately.”

“Absolutely, yeah, of course,” Charles said, nodding his head. He reached down and grabbed his bag from the floor, hardly able to wait for her to end her sentence or hand him his slip before taking off towards the rink.

By the time he got there everyone else was already suited up and on the ice. Still, it didn’t take him long to join them, years of practice giving him the ability to change quickly, at least.

“Well, well, well, looky here, folks!” Mack said, grabbing onto his shoulder. “The kid returns!”

Charles smiled and tried to shrug him off. “Yeah, yeah.”

“Seriously, though, good to see you’re good,” Mack said, as if he hadn’t also checked in on Charles over the weekend.

“Light practices, but I should still be good to go for the game this weekend.”

Mack cheered. At least someone seemed happy to see him.

Brad and Hunter smiled as he lined up next to them. “‘Bout time you showed up,” Hunter said. “Was wondering if they were gonna hold you back all week.”

Charle shook his head. “Nah. Don’t think they could even if they wanted to,” he joked. Because the idea of missing any of his time left on the team was almost too much, and he didn’t really want to evaluate why at that moment.

Practice was certainly different when you were on “light” duty. Instead of drills and everything else, Charles was set up with some pucks and told to line up his shots until he could consistently hit the same spot on the net. It was an old skill, but a familiar one, and he was happy to at least be allowed to do anything.

“We’re going out to Max’s tonight, you comin’?” Brad asked, blocking Charles’s shot as he skated through his target.

Charles shrugged, not entirely sold on the idea. “Got some homework I need to do,” he said. Which was true, the amount of coursework he had seemed to double after the weekend he’d had. Or maybe it was his terrible attention span that made it seem like so much.

“Who doesn't?” Brad asked. He lined up one of the pucks Charles was using and shot on the net. Charles was sure he was supposed to be running some other drill, but as long as he was semi-focused on some task that seemed to be good enough.

Charles laughed as the puck sailed past the goal and bounced off the boards. Brad scowled, but eventually laughed, too.

“Maybe I should be doing some more practicing, too,” he said.

“Maybe.”

They lined up some more shots until the pucks were nearly depleted and then went to gather them. “Seriously though. You, me, and Hunter against Mack, Ollie, and Fossy at pool. We play, drink some beers, and see who we go home with. Pretty good night, eh?”

In another life, it would have sounded perfect. Drinking, games, and someone to take home? He would have struggled to think of a better way to spend a boring week night. Especially considering that was how he had spent a good chunk of his sophomore year.

But things had changed this year, and not entirely because of Edwin. His classes were harder, far more focused on his major and his requirements and he really did need to focus in order to keep his grades up. Plus, this year (and the next) were vital to him potentially getting scouted to keep playing in the future. Nights binge drinking at Max’s seemed a lot less appealing when he thought about rolling over in the morning and trudging to one of his engineering classes.

And, he’d be lying if he didn’t mention him, there was Edwin. Nights at the bar seemed infinitely less interesting without him there.

Not that he imagined Edwin would ever want to talk to him again. Not after the way he’d sniped at him and shut him down in his room. He knew that Edwin had only been trying to help, but everything he had said had just made him so angry. The accusations against his friends, the way he wouldn’t just leave it alone, the way he had insisted on staying with him, even after Charles had bit his head off.

Charles was almost certain Edwin had cried, too. And he’d done that. He’d been the one to make Edwin cry, to push him until he’d curled up on his side and pretended to sleep.

He’d hoped the music would act as a peace offering, but that next morning had proved it hadn’t.

“Come on, what’s one night? Shelby and Maren miss you,” he said.

Against his better judgement, Charles felt himself smile. “Oh, do they?”

“Yeah, ‘course they do.”

“And how did you get the two of them to come see me?” Charles asked, lining up the pucks again with his stick. “I thought neither one of them were talking to you.”

“Some Brad-ster charm,” Brad said with a smile. “Nah, but really, they just wanted to check on you. All I heard was ‘is he okay, what happened, blah blah blah.” He took a shot and missed, bouncing off the edge of the goal.

Charles almost pointed out that Brad could have stood to be a little bit more concerned about him, but he didn’t. Everything had ended up fine, plus he knew that Brad and them had likely been told everything by Coach Nurse.

“Nothing like the ol’ ‘friend with a concussion’ trick to get two girls to talk to you,” Charles said, his tone joking but his words serious.

Brad shook his head and took another shot. “Nah, Shelby barely talked to me after we left. All she wanted to do was talk about Edwin this and Edwin that. Guess they hit it off.”

Could brains actually short circuit? Because Charles was fairly certainly his had. Maybe it was the concussion. Or maybe it was the absurdity of what Brad had said. “Edwin? She wanted to talk about Edwin?”

Another shot, this time it actually went in. Brad celebrated for a brief moment before turning back to him. “Yeah. I told you, her and Maren are, like, obsessed with him or something. I’m pretty sure Shelby would love to make little Olympic babies with him or something if he wasn’t gay.”

For once he didn’t sound like he was degrading Edwin, merely stating a fact. “No, I know. I just didn’t realize…” He trailed off, shooting another puck. “What’d you mean, hitting it off?”

Brad shrugged. “Guess they’ve been talking and running together since Saturday? You know how Shelby is about running and shit.”

Charles did. Shelby had always been far more serious about her sport than the rest of them, skipping out on parties and hangouts and trips just to have more time to focus on it. Her and Charles had been a bit closer their freshmen year, because she refused to go and Charles had lacked the funds, but that had changed the longer they were in college.

He hadn’t realized how much he’d actually missed hanging out with her a bit until she’d stopped by that weekend.

“Guess it makes sense though. Two wannabe Olympians. That’s gotta be a record for this school,” Brad said.

“Gotta go somewhere, right?” Charles asked, though even he could admit that it was strange. He couldn’t speak on the runners at their schools, but he knew that none of the other skaters before Edwin had ever taken themselves as seriously before.

“Guess so.”

Charles slapped a couple more pucks towards the net. And to his surprise, they went in.

“So, are you coming?” Brad asked.

What did he really have to lose? He wasn’t locking up the rink tonight, Edwin wasn’t talking to him, and he was fairly certain Niko was actually hanging out with her roommate for once.

All in all, it left Charles feeling rather lonely. And pathetic to admit that.

“I might stop in,” he said, and added in when Brad cheered. “Might.”

“Sounds awesome, see you there!” Brad said, ignoring Charles’s words as he skated off.

“Rowland,” Coach Nurse said, and Charles jumped. He wondered how long she had been there; how much she had heard.

“Yeah?” he asked, spinning around to face her.

She nodded her head over her shoulder, a universal sign to ‘follow her,’ leaving Charles with very little choice in the matter.

She led him to an area just far away from the rest of the team that they wouldn’t be overheard, but not so far that she couldn’t still keep an eye on the rest of the team. Her assistant coaches seemed to be doing a fantastic job of that on their own, but he knew that she was a perfectionist at heart.

“What’s up?” he asked, twirling his stick in his hands.

Silence settled in over them as she looked him over and then back where the rest of the team was standing.

“I take it you were given the all clear to practice?”

“Yeah, gave my slip to ‘em and everything,” he said, jabbing his thumb in the assistant’s direction.

“Good. And the game?”

Charles nodded.

“Wonderful,” she said, in a way that didn’t make it sound wonderful. “I suppose, I have only one more question.”

Somehow Charles doubted that.

“Shoot,” he said.

Her eyes narrowed, not in a rude or cruel way, but in a scrutinizing one. “Far be it from me to interfere with the lives of my players,” she said, holding up her hands. “I think we both know that is the last thing I want to do. But…”

For once in the short time Charles had known her, she seemed hesitant to say something.

“Have there been any… problems, between you and any of the team lately?” she asked.

Charles shifted his stance as something cold sank into his stomach. “Problems?” he asked.

She nodded, once. “Problems.”

“No,” he said, a touch too fast. “None.”

Her red lipstick disappeared as she thinned her lips in a frown. “Very well.”

“Why’d you ask?” he asked, straightening up. He bounced his stick a couple of times against the ice, the urge to get this building tension out of him so strong he didn’t know what to do.

Again, she hesitated. “No reason. Curiosity, I suppose.”

Curiosity his ass. There had to have been something that made her feel that way.

Something or someone.

“Did Edwin say something?” he asked, remembering her conversation with him. The one that no one would tell him about. Not even Niko or Crystal, though he wasn’t entirely sure that they knew what had been said either.

Not that he’d had much of a chance to talk to Crystal or Niko about anything. Between classes, stress, and all the naps he had been taking, there had been very little time to talk about it.

“The Payne boy?” she said and seemed to feign genuine surprise though that meant very little. “I hardly see what he has to do with this.”

Charles didn’t buy that for a moment.

“Right. He’s got nothing to do with this,” he spat out. Instant regret filled him as he realized what he had done.

He was going to have to do the worst drills possible. His ice time was going to get reduced; he’d be lucky to even be allowed to play in this week’s game and—

A small, almost secretive smile crossed her face. “Very well. It was merely a question. Practice is over.” She raised her arms and dismissed the rest of the team as well, and Charles couldn’t help but feel as though he had missed something.

XXX

The rink was empty by the time Charles had finished showering and packing up his gear. It was odd how strange it seemed to be alone in this rink, when Crystal’s had become like a second home to him.

Not that he’d been going around there any this week. He’d told Edwin that he would stay away so he could practice and he meant it. Crystal might have argued, but that had hardly seemed important when it came to making sure Edwin was comfortable.

Still, Charles had to admit that he would miss it. This place was rarely ever that peaceful, and the morning openings were so much earlier than he was used to.

A door closed behind him and Charles jumped. He turned, and his heart nearly leapt into his throat.

“Coach King,” Charles said, hoping that he got that right. He’d only met the man once in passing, and until now had never really had much of a reason to speak directly to him. He raised an arm up, as if he might have somehow missed him, and hoped he’d got it right.

King’s eyes narrowed before he leaned over and picked up a duffle bag from the floor. He locked the door to one of the coach’s offices, his keys the only thing on him that made noise as he moved towards Charles.

“Well, well, well,” he said. “If it isn’t what the dog dragged in.”

“Innit usually a cat?” Charles asked, trying for a joke.

Coach King didn’t smile. “I don’t think a cat would touch you.”

Charles dropped his smile. “Is… Is Edwin with you? Or home? Or–” he cut himself, not wanting to ask the question he actually wanted to know…

Does Edwin never want to see me again?

He’d been tempted to go by Edwin’s place, but held back. It seemed like a bit much, and the last thing he wanted to do was be like his dad or Simon.

Or like Charles’s own dad.

King’s eyes roamed over him, ignoring the comment. “I heard you took a pretty solid hit on Friday,” he said, glancing up to his head. “You alright?”

It sounded genuine, though Charles couldn’t imagine why he would care whether or not Charles was alright. “Fine. Nothing I’m not used to,” he said, and failed at his attempt to smile.

Coach King made a clicking noise with his tongue. “Right. Heard a lot of that lately,” he said and turned to walk away.

But Charles couldn’t let him get away. “Wait,” he said and jogged to get in front of him. The offended look on his face was almost funny if the situation weren’t so serious. “I just…” Charles paused and bit his lips. What did he want? To apologize? To make sure he was alright? To let him know he missed him?

All of those seemed too… personal to relay through his coach.

Besides, he wasn’t exactly sorry. Not like he figured Edwin would want him to be, anyways. He was sorry he snapped at him, sorry he hadn’t wanted Edwin to have to take care of him, and on and on.

But he wasn’t sorry for shutting down his conversation about Brad and Hunter. Or about uninviting him to the games, even though it had torn him up to do so. It had seemed like the only way to get Edwin to stop… lying? Being wrong?

Because there was no way Brad or Hunter would ever do anything to hurt him. Or rather, not do something that would lead to him getting hurt. They were some of his closest friends, the people who had stuck by him since Freshman year, who’d watched his back through countless games and fights and everything else you could imagine.

They were the ones to let him go home with them during Spring Break when campus shut down, and he couldn’t afford to go home. They were the ones who helped him get over his first “American heartbreak” as they dubbed it freshman year when he and the girl he’d been infatuated with hadn’t worked out. The ones who helped him find cheap gear and other shit when his wore down or broke and he couldn't afford new stuff while in the States.

Could they be assholes? Yeah, but so could most guys their age. And there was a big difference between ‘being an asshole’ and intentionally hurting someone.

Whatever Edwin had seen had been wrong. He’d been mistaken, and while Charles could have handled it better, Edwin needed to accept that, too.

King sighed and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Look, kid. You’re cute, okay? And I don’t really know how, but you’ve made one of the most stand-offish people I’ve ever met care about you. Not an easy task. But whatever this is,” he said, gesturing between the two of them, “Is really not my scene. So, leave me out of it.”

He stepped around Charles and headed towards the school rink’s doors.

“I’ll tell him I saw you, and you looked really pathetic and sad about whatever you two are fighting about. But that’s all I’m doing,” he said.

And while Charles wanted to argue that that simply wasn’t true, he didn’t look sad and he certainly didn’t look pathetic, he could only hope that it might at least break the ice between them.

Something had to give.

But there was nothing else to do. Not with Edwin still dodging his calls and everything.

Still, Charles couldn’t help but try one more time before going home. The door to the outside creaked open as he pushed on it, sweet fall air filling his lungs as he dialed.

This is Edwin Payne, please leave a message.

“Hey, Edwin. Just calling to let you know that Jenny’s going to lock up tonight. In case that… changes your mind about anything. Anyways, um, call me.”

“He doesn’t want to talk to you,” a voice said from behind him.

Charles turned. Simon stood a few paces away, his arms crossed over his chest as he glared at him.

Just when Charles thought this couldn’t go any worse.

“Oh yeah,” Charles said. “And how’d you know that?”

“Because he told me?” Simon said.

Ouch. Charles didn’t really have a counter for that one, he supposed. He wasn’t even aware the two of them were on speaking terms.

Then again, it seemed like that status changed very quickly for Edwin.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. Now move along, you’re blocking the sidewalk,” Simon said and moved past Charles.

He dragged a very distinctive bag behind him, and Charles couldn’t help but follow after. “S’Edwin with you?” he asked, gesturing to the bag that was obviously his.

Simon sighed and nodded his head towards the parking lot. An SUV was running, though the windows were too tinted for him to see in.

“It is a practice day,” Simon said. Though, when he and Edwin started practicing again Charles wasn’t sure. It couldn’t have been too long ago, seeing as how he wasn’t even talking to him on Friday.

Then again, things seemed to change fast around here. What did Charles know?

Without even thinking, Charles moved towards the parking lot.

“Don’t!” Simon said, placing himself between Charles and the SUV, and Charles was once more reminded that figure skaters could be deceptively strong. “Listen to me. Today has been a lot for him, and the last thing he needs is whatever drama you seem to bring him.”

Charles opened his mouth to protest. He brought drama to Edwin?

“So if you’re here to– I don’t know, play some sort of game or whatever you’ve been doing with him? It’s over. Go home. Now, or I’ll call the cops,” he said. He jabbed a finger up to point at Charles. “But if you care about him, actually care about him, then shut up and listen to me.”

Charles paused. What other choice did he have in this situation? Of course he cared about Edwin.

“Edwin is a serious athlete. Not some wannabe skater who skates for a school because he has nothing else to do,” Simon said. “And that comes with a price. All these little “hangouts” or whatever it is you’ve been doing is cute and all, but it has seriously cut into his training time. Do you know how close he is to not qualifying? On skills that he has been able to do since he was a child.”

Charles swallowed. No, he didn’t.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Simon said, barrelling past Charles’s pity party. “That all of that has nothing to do with you. But it does. Because before you, Edwin had been making vast improvements in his skills since his accident, and all of that potential seemed to stall the second he started hanging out with you.”

The words froze in Charles’s throat. Even more guilt than he already imagined weighed him down, nearly forcing him to sink to the pavement.

“You wanna help Edwin? Do him a favor? Then stay out of his life,” Simon said and turned to walk away.

“Because you’re so good for him?” Charles countered. He was yelling now, gearing up for a real fight.

Simon thought he was a big man? Pushing Edwin, stopping Charles from going out to the SUV? Fine, let him prove it.

Simon turned around and nearly tipped Edwin’s bag over in the process. “What?”

Charles waved a hand at him, seeing red. “You! You cut him off practicing here, hurt his fucking wrist, talk to him like he’s a fucking idiot at his house. Fuck, you even teamed up with his dad to bitch him out. And I’m supposed to believe that’s good for him?”

Anger rolled slowly and steadily like a thunderstorm over Simon’s face. He dropped the handle of Edwin’s bag, this time actually knocking it over in his haste to step up to Charles.

He almost wished he would hit him. Punch, kick, shove, anything to get that fucking anger and frustration out of him.

If this were a game he could slam him into the boards. And Simon could slam him back. It would be so much easier if this were all a game.

But it wasn’t.

“I saved his fucking life. How’s that for good for him?” Simon asked.

Charles’s jaw ticked, unsure what to say.

“Did he not tell you that?” Simon asked. “Oh, no, I bet he fucking didn’t. Why would he? Because it’s none of your fucking business.”

Both of them stood there, breathing heavily across from one another. It would still be so easy to keep going, to start fight after fight, to make Simon feel as shitty as Charles did right now.

But the door slammed open.

That woman, the one Charles had seen on the first day of practices, stood in the door frame. Her hair was as messy and tangled looking as it had been that day, though her tracksuit did look a little cleaner than then.

“You’re late,” she said, drilling holes into Simon.

Simon inhaled, “I know, Coach, but–”

“And you’re missing Payne.”

Simon stopped. “He’s still in the car. He said without Coach King here he didn’t–”

“Not how the deal works,” she said. “Go get him.”

Simon glanced back and forth between her and Charles before nodding. Quickly, he turned and headed back to the parking lot.

Slowly, the woman’s attention turned towards Charles. Something in her look sent a shiver down his spine, much the same way it had when he’d first ran into her all that time ago.

“Hello,” she said, somehow making the word sound like a threat.

“Hi,” he said and gave her a small wave.

She looked at his bag. “Hockey player. Right?” He nodded. “Always were the worst. Loud, rude. No skills involved, and such ugly skating. Almost like suffering but in a hideous, unattractive way.”

Charles had no clue what he should even say to that. “Right, um. I guess I should be going.”

“Yes,” she said. She stepped forward and grabbed the handle of Edwin’s skating bag, and seeing something Edwin cared about so deeply in her hands sent a flush of something through him. Some sort of protectiveness or worry that was so strong all he wanted to do was rip it from her hands and make sure she never touched it again. “I imagine you should. It’s going to be a long night for them, I wouldn’t wait around.”

Charles glanced up at the sun that was still in the sky. “It’s not night.”

A terrifying smile spread over her face like an oil spill. “No, not yet. But they’ve got a lot of work to do if they want to place in their competition.”

“Oh. Yeah,” he said, stepping back from her. “Well… bye.”

Without waiting for her to say anything else he headed towards the parking lot, hoping to see where Simon or Edwin might have gone, but he couldn’t find them. The SUV was gone without a trace.

And so were his chances of seeing Edwin.

Notes:

not gonna lie, this week has sort of sucked. we had to say good-bye to one of the best dogs I've ever known, and that has been Not A Good Time. so... yeah, sorry about the shorter and kind of angsty charles chapter.

Chapter 17: (You Put The "Fun" Into Dysfunction)

Notes:

"Hold me, hold me like a grudge,
the world is always spinning,
and I can't keep up,
faster and faster, can't do it on my own,
part-time soulmate, full-time problem,
[...]
I thought I knew better,
I thought it would get better,
I figured somehow by now,
I would have got it together
and if you put your, put your heart in it,
then we'll do more than just get by together..."
Hold Me Like A Grudge by Fall Out Boy

Everything had changed overnight for Edwin. One bad night with Charles, and he was left spinning, wondering what exactly normal was supposed to look like now when he wasn’t seeing him everyday.

Personally, Edwin was tired of change. He’d had more than enough of it over the last couple of years, and he’d be grateful for even a hint of stability. He should have known an attractive hockey player was not the answer to that problem.

Either way, he was tired of adjusting the way he lived. His injuries, starting university, constantly fighting with Simon, the back and forth he and Charles had going on, all of it was too much.

He missed when life was easier, when his main concerns were training, skating, and keeping track of where in the world Crystal had run off to. Not that the last one had been an easy job, but it still was a job he’d gotten good at. None of the others were things he excelled at anymore, except for maybe screwing up all of his relationships.

Cold air flowed out of the vents and straight into his face, drying the stress induced sweat on his skin. Slowly, some semblance of peace started to return to him, though he couldn’t say how long it took.

He tapped his fingers across the steering wheel, the blood finally rushing back to them from where he had gripped it so tightly they ached.

Simon shifted in the passenger’s seat. Edwin had been afraid he might say something, or at least try and drag him back to the rink for practice, but he didn’t. Instead, he sat there quietly and stared through the windshield at Crystal’s rink. As if he sat still enough it might have all the answers.

“There is a very angry goth woman staring at us,” Simon finally said, breaking the silence in the car like a gunshot.

Edwin opened his eyes and peered through the windshield as well. Jenny stood at the doorway to the rink, her arms crossed and glaring at Edwin’s vehicle.

“That’s Jenny,” he croaked. He couldn’t remember if Simon and Jenny had ever met or what he might remember about her. He doubted they had, considering Crystal had been pretty clear about her stance on Simon.

Not that it really mattered at the moment.

Simon nodded, accepting the answer. “Should we… do something?”

Should they? Possibly. The way Jenny was glaring at them meant that he was likely going to have to, whether he wanted to or not. And really, the last thing he wanted to do was… something right now. All he wanted to do was go back home and sleep. Even more than practicing, for once.

All he wanted to do was crawl into bed and dial the one number he wasn’t letting himself right now. Or answer his phone the next time it rang. But he knew he couldn’t do that. The spirals he was already tempted to go down only got worse when he thought about trying to untangle the mess between him and Charles, and he truly didn’t have time for any of that right now.

He needed to practice. He needed to get ready for his competition, to place in said competition so he could go on to the next one. Something that had never stressed him out quite to this level before, but then again, it had never seemed this difficult in the past.

Skating had always come easy to him, like breathing or walking, and winning had only been a step harder. But change had done a number on him, and now he was stressed out about even such a minor competition and his homework and skating in front of Coach Despair and–

“She will come over if she feels the need to,” Edwin said, cutting off his thoughts before they could wind up again. Which was the one thing he had faith in at the moment. When Jenny wanted to say something, she let it be known.

They sat in silence. Edwin wanted to say it was comfortable, that it might even be helping him, but things with Simon were usually double edged at best and distinctly uncomfortable at worst.

Simon checked his phone before placing it facedown on his lap again.

“Is she calling you?” he asked. Because she must have been, right? Coach Despair rarely ever gave up so easily. There was a reason why Edwin had chosen her to be his coach in the past, and there was a reason why Simon was using her now, and it certainly wasn’t her compassion or understanding.

“Doesn’t matter,” he said and scooted down further into his seat. “We’ve already missed practice.”

Edwin blinked at the clock on the dash. He hadn’t realized how much time had passed.

He wanted to apologize. This wasn’t what he had intended when he had reached out to Simon about training again. He had thought he was ready to train with her around, to help him and Simon shape up just in time for their competition.

He just hadn’t expected her to say that Coach King wouldn’t be joining them, that she had insisted he go home, and thus she would be the only one to oversee their training.

There was no way in hell Coach King had taken that lying down, but Edwin hadn’t even had time to ask him. Not before Simon had dropped that bomb and taken his bag inside.

The only choice that had made sense to him after that was to run. It was illogical and childish, he knew, but it still seemed right. There was no way he could go in there and train with her alone again. That wasn’t in the agreement, that wasn’t fair. Even if Simon would be there.

“She’s coming over,” Simon said.

Edwin shifted and looked back over the wheel again.

It only took a moment for Jenny to cross the parking lot and meet him at his window. He rolled it down, the air from outside just a touch warmer than the AC currently blasting him in the face.

Perhaps he should have turned the heat on. Simon must have been freezing.

“You gonna sit out here all night?” she asked. She peered in, clearly checking in on Edwin, before her eyes shifted to Simon. The glare was obvious to Edwin, but he didn’t know if Simon would realize she actually was glaring at him, or that it was different from her normal pissed off expression.

The sun had begun to set at some point, bathing the entire parking lot in a warm, orange glow. He wished he could draw any comfort from it, like he did most sunsets.

“I had not intended to,” Edwin said, a half truth if ever he heard one. He hadn’t intended to do anything. He hadn’t even meant to be there.

But that’s how it always was. When everything grew to be too much, he ran to the rink. And no rink had ever felt more like home than Crystal’s.

Jenny stood there, clearly waiting for more of an explanation that wasn’t going to come. “Fine, she said. “Get out.”

“What?” both Edwin and Simon asked.

“Get out. Come on,” she said.

Edwin glanced at Simon before he shrugged. He killed the SUV, and together they followed Jenny inside.

“I haven’t been in here in years,” Simon said, looking around. “It looks amazing.”

Edwin tried to imagine what Simon was seeing. Crystal had done a great job at keeping it a mix of the old style, while still updating it into the modern day and age. She really did have a bit of her parents’ eyes when it came to art and style, no matter how much she might not like to hear that.

He tried to remember the last time Simon might have been inside. It would have been before they stopped using this place regularly, possibly around ten years ago? All Edwin could really remember was Crystal being so angry that Simon had insisted she couldn’t play with them since she wasn’t a figure skater, which had caused a meltdown on several fronts.

Crystal had cut the laces on Simon’s skates. Simon had thrown a hardguard at her head. Edwin had tried to hold Crystal back as she had grabbed onto Simon’s hair and pulled.

He couldn’t remember who had broken them up, but it must have been Simon’s parents. The odds of Crystal’s or Edwin’s parents watching over them seemed low.

To Edwin’s surprise, Jenny led them into the sitting area outside the kitchen rather than the rink. She gestured for them to take a seat as she disappeared through the kitchen doors.

Edwin’s phone vibrated. He didn’t even want to see who it might be. Coach Despair, Coach King, his father…

Charles.

“He really doesn’t give up, does he?” Simon asked, glancing at his screen.

So it must have been Charles.

“No,” Edwin said.

Simon nodded. It seemed as if he wanted to say something, but he didn’t. And Edwin was so tired of trying to figure out what people meant when they weren’t saying anything, so he ignored it.

“Edwin,” he said finally, and Edwin looked up.

His face was conflicted. That was the easiest emotion Edwin could decipher from the mix that ran across his face. Torn in two directions, even if Edwin didn’t have the first clue what either direction might mean.

“There’s things we can do if he’s bothering you,” he finished eventually. “If he’s… a problem.”

Was Charles bothering him? Or was Edwin just avoiding everything until he had time to deal with it? And who did that really make the problem?

“He’s not,” Edwin said.

Simon looked skeptical and glanced at his phone, which had gone to voicemail yet again. Edwin hadn’t even allowed himself to listen to any of them yet. The best thing for him right now was just to forget that all of this was happening.

Perhaps he should turn off his phone. That’s what he did before competitions, sometimes going so far as to leave it with the coach the night before if he thought he might be tempted to give in to distractions. And maybe that wasn’t the worst idea for the week leading up to them, either.

Still, it felt nice to know that Charles still wanted to talk to him. If he didn’t open the messages, he could pretend that Charles was saying anything in them. That he missed him, that he was sorry, that he’d been wrong about his friends…

That he wanted to see him.

Jenny emerged from the kitchen, two large mugs held in her hands. The sweet smell of hot chocolate hit Edwin’s nose and he nearly cried.

“Don’t think you’ll get special treatment every time you show up and look a little pathetic,” she said gruffly.

Simon thanked her, but Edwin chewed on his lips as he took his. “I did not expect you to be here,” Edwin said. The children’s classes had ended for the day, and there really was nothing else for Jenny to be doing here at the moment.

She raised a dark eyebrow at him. “Expecting someone else?”

Not explicitly, but Edwin couldn’t lie that the idea that Charles might have been here could have been a motivating factor as well. It seemed like a constant back and forth pull of wanting to be near him and pushing him away for both their sakes and his focus.

“Charles isn’t doing night shifts anymore,” Jenny said. “Or at least for now.”

Edwin wanted to ask if that was because of him, or if something else had happened. Was his concussion more serious than they suspected? Did something else happen at school? Or practices?

Then again, Edwin might know the answers to these questions if he just talked to Charles.

But he wasn’t ready. And maybe that wasn’t fair to Charles, but the last thing Edwin needed to do was add to his own stress.

“Small mercies,” Simon muttered, which earned him a glare from Jenny. Again, Edwin couldn’t tell if it was obvious to someone who didn’t know her, however.

“What were you two doing?” she asked, gesturing back and forth to them. And Edwin could hear her real question, is this Simon and why is he at the rink?

“Avoiding practice,” Edwin said, the most honest answer he had.

Jenny’s eyebrows shot into her hairline. “You? Avoiding practice?”

Edwin sipped his hot chocolate. It burned his tongue, a sweet scalding sensation that left him with half his ability to taste. The other half was in heaven, however.

Simon stayed blessedly silent.

“Right, okay,” she said. “I’m definitely missing a lot of context here, but here’s what I think.”

And boy, wasn’t that exactly what Edwin wanted to hear.

“You two need to go home. Eat dinner and then watch a movie, read a book, listen to music, do literally any other hobby other than skating. And then tomorrow you can worry about practicing,” she said.

Edwin set his mug down. Despite his gentleness, it clinked loudly against the table and set his nerves even further on edge.

“Competition is in a week, Jenny,” he said. “We should be practicing every moment we have.”

“Bullshit,” she said. And when Edwin started to roll his eyes she nudged his chair with her booted foot. “No, that’s bullshit. Running yourself into the ground doesn’t mean you’ll do better. It just means you’re on the ground.”

She looked towards Simon, who jumped at her sudden attention. “Do you believe this bullshit?” she asked.

“Well, I mean, we do need to practice, and–” he stuttered.

“Alright, no. Nope. Fuck that,” she took their mugs from their hands and marched away.

Simon turned to Edwin. “Did she just… take our drink?” he asked. Not that Simon had likely been drinking much of it anyways. Edwin knew how he felt about overly sweet things.

Before Edwin could answer she came back, two to-go cups in her hands. “Go home. And I mean home. Not to another rink or gym or running or whatever.” She jabbed her finger back and forth between them. “And if I found out you went anywhere other than home…”

She didn’t finish her threat. She didn’t have to. Edwin and Simon nodded as they stood up to leave. Neither one of them even looked back, not until they reached the car.

“Damn,” Edwin said under his breath. Simon glanced at him as he tossed his drink in the trash. “My gear is still at the school.”

He couldn’t believe he’d just forgotten it there. The only thing he had been able to focus on was getting out of there, putting as much distance between himself and Coach Despair as he could.

Simon sighed. “We’ll get it in the morning,” he said. “Or, I’ll get it in the morning.”

Edwin sipped his own drink once more, the heat finally down to a tolerable level. The chances of him running into Charles greatly increased if he went in the morning, but he also didn’t want to ask Simon to do that for him. Not with their fight still so fresh in both of their memories.

“I can do it,” he said, with just a bit more bite than he had originally intended.

But he wasn’t helpless. Or weak or stupid or whatever else Simon might be thinking of him at the moment.

“Fine, but we better get out of here. She’s staring at us like she might come over here again.” Simon said.

Edwin turned to see Jenny standing in the doorway, watching them.

“Then we best leave,” he said. Because the last thing he wanted to do was anger Jenny.

XXX

That night Edwin rolled over and checked his phone. There was at least one more call from Charles since he had last checked, as well as a voicemail, but he didn’t click on them. Instead, he swiped the notifications away and pulled up old training videos he had from years ago.

It was funny to think of how little he had been, almost as if it were a completely different person. Who was that little boy with gangly arms and a head too big for his body? His form was also atrocious, slumping when he should have stood straight, and standing straight when he should have bent like a willow.

Still, that little version of him was moving so much better than this version of him. He was smoother, more sure of himself. No one could tell him anything.

Edwin only wished he could get back to that version of himself.

“Wrong foot Payne, do it again,” one of his coaches said off screen. This was Coach… Milton? He was fairly certain. It had been so long ago, and he’d had him for such a short amount of time it was hard to tell anymore.

The Edwin on his screen did it again. This time, he landed on the correct foot.

“Again, Payne,” Milton said, as if all of this were somehow an imposition to him.

“Why?” Edwin asked. “I did it right that time.”

“Two more times, because now you’re being a smart ass.”

Edwin swiped to another video. This one was even older, with a coach who hadn’t been bad, but had certainly been in it more for a paycheck than because he had actually enjoyed coaching a child.

“No, don’t do that!” his coach said, his voice nearly panicked.

A younger Edwin grinned as he jumped and spun in the air. It hadn’t even been a real skill, just something he and Simon had been working on together, but it had freaked out his coach all the same.

That coach had a lot of anxiety, now that Edwin thought about it. Or maybe Edwin had just been an ill-behaved child. He could distinctly remember this was the same coach who had dropped him after he and Simon had challenged each other to see who could learn how to do a backflip first.

Crystal cackled through the speakers. It had been a long time since she had watched him practice and laughed like that.

There were countless more videos, all showing Edwin at various stages of life. It had long since become a regular practice to review his old videos, to see if there was anything he could improve upon or learn from his old mistakes, but it hardly seemed to matter now.

It was as if he were two different people. The Edwin before the accident, and the Edwin after.

He didn’t have the strength in him to even start looking at his more recent videos. For his own well being, Coach King kept most of them, though Edwin knew he would hand them over if he asked.

Though possibly not tonight. There would likely be too many questions involved if he asked to review his old footage now, and he really didn’t want to deal with it.

He sighed as he locked his phone. His room was quiet, the only sound he could hear was the faint buzzing from his desk lamp next to him.

He was… lonely. And that was a startling realization to have.

The list of people he could call was rather short. Crystal, he knew, but she would likely try to get him to talk to Charles and that wasn’t what he needed right now. Which also ruled Niko out, because if she were even speaking to him, it would likely have the same result.

Simon was out, purely on the nature that he wasn’t sure he had the mental energy to deal with any conversation that might come up after the evening they had spent together.

Which really only left Shelby or Monty, neither of which he felt comfortable calling. What would he even say? That he was lonely? That being in his place all alone suddenly didn’t feel like the freedom it usually did but instead a prison?

No. That was dramatic and a lot to drop on a casual stranger.

There was only one person he wanted to call, and he was afraid of what he might say if he answered.

Instead, he rolled over and flicked off his light.

He held up his phone and hovered over one of Charles’s missed calls. It would be so easy to hit the notification, to return any of his calls. Maybe they could ignore everything that had happened over the last few days, and just pretend that everything was normal between them.

Impulsively, he tapped his screen.

It rang and rang and rang.

He never answered.

XXX

The next morning, Simon surprised him by dropping his gear off on his front porch before class.

Didn’t want you to have to run into Rowland, his text read.

There was something to be said about that kindness, though Edwin figured it was misplaced. It was not as though he and Charles were sworn enemies, destined to kill each other if they ever laid eyes on each other.

They just weren’t friends like Edwin thought they were.

But that was fine. He had misread the situation and assumed he had a place in Charles’s life that he didn’t. That sort of thing happened.

After class was over, he hurried over to Crystal’s rink. He had already texted her, just to make sure it would be her and not Charles, but he still felt a bit of anxiety as he arrived.

Edwin could hardly blame Charles for not answering his single phone call when Edwin had ignored half a dozen of them, but that didn’t mean he still didn’t feel embarrassed by it.

“You’re being stupid,” Crystal said from the sidelines. The only greeting she gave him.

“Thank you, Crystal, for that in depth analysis of the situation,” Edwin snarked. He stretched down, his fingertips skimming the tops of his skates. “I’ll make sure to keep that in mind.”

He didn’t even need to see her to know she had rolled her eyes at him.

“That’s okay, he is, too,” she said. “Two peas in a big idiot pod.”

The temptation to ask her “who” exactly was being stupid with him was strong, but he did not think she would appreciate it.

“A stunning visual,” he said blandly. “You truly have your parents’ creative eye.”

He thought Crystal might leave or go back up to her office now that the children’s classes had ended and Edwin had started. To his surprise, she didn’t. Instead, she sat there and watched him run his routine again and again, her face carefully blank.

He ran through his routine once, twice, almost three times before Crystal spoke again.

“What day is your competition again?” she asked.

“It starts on Thursday.”

She huffed as she leaned over the wall again. “Why can’t they just host it on the weekend, like a normal competition?” she asked.

Edwin tended to agree. “Because the officials love to be difficult.” Then, because he knew it would make her laugh, he stood up even straighter and put on a slightly deeper voice. “And it’s America. During football season.”

She snorted so hard it actually did turn into a laugh. “Right. My bad, I forgot how big the overlap was between figure skaters and football fans.”

“Some people have depth,” Edwin said, turning his nose up into the air as if he were personally offended. As if he had ever once sat down to watch an American football game in his life.

“Right. And how are you getting there? You going up the night before?” she asked.

He frowned, sensing the question she really wanted to ask.

“I’ll be driving,” Edwin said. “And yes, Coach King and I are staying just a few blocks away from the arena.” Already, the thought of a long car ride was enough to make him sick. Stuck in a car for four hours had nearly had him reconsidering the whole thing.

But Edwin wasn’t a quitter. He wasn’t even a stranger to long road trips, despite what the British stereotype might say. Plenty of Crystal's misadventures had ended with them on a Greyhound bus or in the cab of a friendly trucker.

His mother had also been fond of them as well, though he couldn’t remember the last time they had taken one together.

But now, after everything, the idea of being in a car for that long made him want to curl up and die.

“What time should I get there?” she asked.

Before Edwin could answer, the rink door opened and Coach King walked in.

“I heard you skipped out on practice yesterday,” he said, side-eying Edwin. At least he had the decency to smile in acknowledgement at Crystal.

Edwin straightened up, as if he were lining up for the firing squad. “I did,” he said.

Coach King let out a tsk, tsk but the expression on his face wasn’t angry. “Can’t say I blame you,” he said. “Dolores is the worst.”

Crystal whipped around to look at Edwin, and he felt himself freeze on the spot. “You had practice with her yesterday?” she asked.

“Practice he didn’t attend,” Coach King said.

He glared at him. “Simon and I decided it would be best to take the night off.”

“Since when do you and Simon agree on anything?” he asked at the same time Crystal said, “You’re talking to him again?”

Edwin rolled his eyes at both of them. “This is ridiculous.”

“No, what’s ridiculous is having to track you all over the city,” Coach King said.

“There are only three places I would likely be, you could not have looked very hard,” Edwin deadpanned.

“And I had one of Yockey’s finest chasing after me looking like a kicked puppy,” he said. “What’s his name? Chad? Chapman?”

Edwin bristled. “Charles?”

“Ding, ding, ding. We have a winner,” he said. “Told him I’d tell you he looked really sad and pathetic. Which he did, by the way.”

“Why on Earth would you tell him that?” he asked.

“Because he did,” Coach King said. “Now, are you going to practice, or what?”

“I thought we were supposed to practice at the campus rink,” Edwin said, unable to resist mocking Coach King’s own rule.

He smiled, that sharp tooth one that reminded Edwin of the fact that he used to be a rather fierce, aggressive skater. “That was before I was also run off campus by Dolores. So for now, we’ll practice here.” He looked at Crystal, as if she might argue. “That is, unless Crystal here has any complaints.”

She leaned back. “Nope, sounds good to me.”

“Good, so we’re all in agreement,” Edwin said.

“We are. Now, you better do your warmups again, because that was a terrible run. Amature, really,” Coach King said, which somehow, despite everything, made Edwin smile.

At least something was the same.

XXX

Between running with Shelby in the mornings, classes during the day, practicing at Crystal’s in the evenings, and running with Simon on the way home, Edwin was exhausted. Every night it was a fight to actually get himself up the stairs and showered before he collapsed into an Edwin puddle on the bed. And those were the nights he didn’t have to make his own food or do homework or anything else.

But there was less than a week between him and his first competition since his accident. He could do this. What was one week of suffering when it came to winning?

His back ached, strung far too tight over everything he’d been doing recently, and his feet were so sore they went numb at times. But he knew that he couldn’t stop. Not when he was so close.

Still, despite all of this, it was impossible for him to sleep. Instead, he found himself watching old footage of him skating or video interviews or reports about speculations on whether or not he was really returning.

Then, when he grew tired of that he would pull up other people’s skating videos. And when he grew tired of that he pulled up recorded hockey games.

There were none for their specific school, but it didn’t matter.

None of this actually helped him to sleep, however. If anything, he was sure it was keeping him awake, though it seemed better than lying in the dark wishing sleep would come.

Finally, after what must have been at least three hours, he tried searching for some of the music Charles usually played when he went to sleep. It wasn’t the music that helped to ease him to sleep usually, but he was desperate for anything at this point.

The only one he knew for certain was Under the Milky Way by The Church. Rather than spend the rest of the night searching, he put the song on repeat and finally, finally fell asleep.

XXX

Competition days used to be Edwin’s favorite days in the world.

He knew that most people got nervous before things like this, that they often struggled with anxiety, pressure, nerves, or an amalgamation of all three, but Edwin never really had. Excitement and exhilaration had really only been the way to describe it. Plus, he had been confident in his skating, in his skills. He knew he was good, and while he had pushed himself to be better and better, he knew that he was typically ahead of most of the people he was in direct competition with.

All of that had changed, of course, the minute his accident had happened.

The sidelines were quiet, coaches and skaters speaking softly to one another as they prepared for the day ahead. He tried to keep an eye out for Simon or Coach Despair, but they must not have arrived yet.

Perks of getting there early meant that Edwin had plenty of time to loosen up and watch his competition.

“Here,” Coach King said, breaking through his thoughts as he handed him some sort of breakfast monstrosity. “Since you didn’t come down for breakfast this morning.” It looked like a pancake folded over some sort of fruit filling, and Edwin wasn’t sure despite its wrappings that it was meant to be eaten with your hands.

It was delicious, however.

It took him more time than he cared to admit to try and choke it down though, despite its nice flavor. The idea of eating anything right now seemed to be a bad one, though he knew that he needed to. He’d done enough competitions on an empty stomach, and it almost always led to him getting sick or lightheaded.

Not good for balance or spins.

Back when he had first started skating his mother had made a big deal on the mornings of his competitions. She would prepare eggs and sausage, slices of bananas and peanut butter, and– if he were really lucky– they would have a strawberry shake after he was done.

The novelty of his competitions had worn off a lot sooner for her than they had for him.

Eventually he learned to make sure he had a breakfast prepared the night before. And, if Crystal was able to make it out, they would go out afterwards and get shakes.

He wished that she were here to do that again.

Instead of wallowing in self pity, he tried to refocus back on what Coach King was saying.

“It looks like you’re pretty much at the end of the day,” he said as he glanced at the schedule.

Likely done on purpose to attract more people, encouraging all of them to stick around for the full day. Or because his previous scores were so low due to missing most of last year.

Wonderful.

At least if he had been first he could have gotten everything done and over with. Now he would have to spend all day watching everyone else go while he slowly over thought every single aspect of his routine.

Should he have changed that step? That jump? Should he stick to what they had agreed on for his triples or move up one? Did his costume look as ridiculous as he felt it did? Sure, he’d liked it a month ago when he’d picked it out, but now that he was wearing it, he couldn’t help but question it.

“And the end of the day tomorrow. There’ll be plenty of time for us to run through everything off ice both days though, if you want,” he said, running his finger down the page. “Do you know where everyone will be sitting? I can let them know while you finish up.”

Edwin swallowed, suddenly tasting sand. “There is no one,” he said.

Coach King paused. “What?”

Edwin didn’t answer. Instead, he tossed the remaining bit of breakfast in the trash and moved to continue stretching. Even if he wasn’t going on for hours, he still needed to make sure he stayed loose and light, and right now his limbs felt anything but.

“Someone should be here for you, Edwin,” King said. “Please tell me, it’s not just me.”

Edwin tried to ignore him. If he just focused on his stretches and his breathing in and out, in and out, he could get through this. However, when he opened his eyes Thomas was still standing there, his arms crossed and angry looking.

“Edwin,” he said, dragging out his name in a way that always grated against every single one of his nerves. This is not the conversation that he needed to be having right now.

“It’s fine,” Edwin said. He squeezed his eyes closed and tried to focus on the swirling colors in the pitch black void. Focus, focus, focus!

“What about Crystal?” Coach King said. “Isn’t she always there for you?”

She had been, once upon a time. And then everything had gone wrong and they had stopped speaking to each other.

Now things were better, but his competition couldn’t beat a stomach bug.

“She is sick,” Edwin said quietly. She had called him that morning on the hotel’s phone, upset and swearing up a storm. She swore she wasn’t doing this on purpose, that she wasn’t ghosting him and that she really had been intending to come, but she and Niko had both caught something from one of the kid’s in Niko’s class. Something no one could control.

Guilt had weighed him down for even questioning her for a second. So heavily, it had forced him to leave his hotel room early, before Coach King had even woken up, and go for a run.

He stretched further, his back twinging in the process. He debated whether or not he should press it. If he did, he might stretch it out properly. Or, he ran the risk of further straining it.

He took the risk.

Coach King cursed under his breath. “What about that track girl? The one you mentioned running with.”

He hadn’t even thought to ask Shelby, he realized, which made him feel slightly guilty. He knew that she was interested in his sport and his abilities and yet it had never occurred to him to ask.

King rightfully took his silence as an answer. “Fuck. Okay, what about Charles?” he asked.

Edwin snapped up, glaring at him. “Why is this so important?” he asked. There had been competitions where he had been alone before, this was hardly new to him.

“Because you shouldn’t have to do this alone?” he said, almost as if Edwin were especially slow at understanding. “Because someone should be here for you, other than me. Your parents, your friends, a partner– someone.”

“What do you want to hear?” Edwin asked, forcing himself quickly to his feet. His back hurt, his leg burned, and he hadn’t even been allowed on the ice yet. “That there is no one? That I have no one who would want to be here with me? Then there. I’ve said it. Now, please, leave me alone.”

He walked a few paces away, trying to collect himself. He couldn’t have a breakdown yet. Not here, in front of everyone before he’d even gotten a chance to go on.

A couple of people turned to watch him as he stormed past. He couldn’t tell if they were watching him because he was Edwin Payne or if they were watching because he had raised his voice before walking away.

Neither one bode well for him.

It took a moment, but eventually Coach King sighed and followed after him. One thing Edwin would give the man was that he knew when to push and when to give up, even when Edwin himself didn’t.

“It’s your first competition back since the accident,” he said, as if Edwin wasn’t already highly aware of that fact. Still, he ignored him. “That means there will be a lot of press around here today.”

Edwin paused. Somehow, in the grand scheme of everything else in his life, he had forgotten about that factor. Not that people would be talking about him or the accident– he could never forget that– but that he was going to be expected to answer some direct questions about it all, which he had managed to avoid doing so far.

“Which is why I want you to have someone here with you. You know I’m in your corner, but it shouldn’t just be me.”

But there was no one else Edwin could ask. Even if he thought of someone, it would be too late.

“Thank you for your concern,” he said. “But truly, I am fine.”

Coach King’s jaw ticked a couple times as he stared at Edwin, searching back and forth between his eyes for the truth. Then, he lowered his voice and moved in closer. “Dolores is going to be here, too.”

Edwin’s own jaw tightened as he leaned in, his teeth gritted. “She is Simon’s coach. It stands to reason she would be here.”

“She’s also listed as one of your coaches,” he said. “Which means you might have to take pictures with her. Do an interview or two.”

“No.”

“Edwin, this isn’t really a negotiation,” he said.

“No.”

Coach King nodded. He knew Edwin’s feelings on the matter, and it’s not like Coach King much cared for her either. “Fine. Okay. I’ll work something out. But you’ve got to agree to sit down and relax in the meantime.”

He reached out and picked lint off the royal blue velvet of Edwin’s costume, which reminded Edwin that he needed to see if his bag still had a lint roller. The thin, gauzy material of his sleeves would be too delicate to use it on, and the intricate silver threading down his back and chest would need to be avoided, but that was hardly a problem.

How did his coats even manage to gather so much lint in the first place? He really only ever used them in the rinks.

“I’ve got a lint roller too,” Coach King said. “Like I said, just relax.”

Well, Edwin supposed he was nothing if not predictable.

XXX

“Edwin Payne, age 19. Finally in the senior skate. It’s been a minute since we’ve seen him.”

“It has! You know, the skating world hasn’t been the same without him.”

“You’re right. Too many people getting complacent. But you know, he’s changed up a lot of his routine this year.”

“I can see that. Looks like he’s going more for the obtainable scores rather than risking it.”

“Which is fair. I can’t imagine how hard it must be to come back from that accident.”

“So true. But look at him now! You’d never even know it happened.”

“Yes. But it is back to basics for him. A risk for his first year in the senior skate. You know, he’s used this song before in his short programs.”

“Has he?”

“Yes, but it’s been years ago. I can only hope that’s a good sign.”

Edwin swallowed and tried to stare straight forward as he took his place on the ice. This was just like any other time he’d skated this routine. Absolutely nothing new about it.

Except for the fact that he could feel everyone’s eyes locked in on him. He could feel the way they weighed him down, their questions searing into his skin like iron brands.

Why did you come back? What routine will you be doing? Are you even good enough to come back?

What’s the point?

It used to be easy to ignore everyone else.

Actually, he used to not need to ignore everyone else. He used to thrive under the attention, literally bloom on the ice like an early spring flower. He’d learned very early on how to impress people, to make them sit up and take notice of him. It was a skill to hold someone’s attention captive and not let it go, and Edwin had mastered it young.

It was not a skill that had survived his accident.

What could only be described as his fight or flight instinct kicked in. And while Edwin could stand his ground if need be, he was far more into the idea of flight.

All of that energy used to get translated into skating. Moving, jumping, twirling– all of it contributing to a performance that was unlikely to be forgotten anytime soon.

Now all it meant was that he wanted to flee off the ice as fast as possible.

But he wanted this. This was what he had worked so hard for, the only thing he had truly been concerned about when he had first woken up in the hospital dazed and confused.

He couldn’t give up now.

Just before the first note sounded, he made eye contact with Coach King, who nodded and gave him a small thumbs up. They’d worked on this for months now, if Edwin didn’t have it now he never would.

Simon stood a little further away, his face hard and determined but otherwise unreadable.

Good. Edwin wasn’t sure what emotion or response he wanted to see on his face at the moment. At least Coach Despair was nowhere in sight. He didn’t think he would be able to handle it if she was.

The familiar almost ‘tick, tock, tick tock,’ of the beginning of his song hit and Edwin started to move.

The name Panic, Shear Bloody Panic had never felt more accurate.

He’d been so young when the Robert Downey Jr. version of Sherlock Holmes had come out, but that hadn’t stopped him from falling in love with it. He could still remember begging Crystal to play detectives with him when they were small, and the way they had fought over who got to be Sherlock Holmes.

When it had come time to pick his own music for his performances the choice had never been clearer.

“Wouldn’t you prefer something more… fun? Lighthearted?” one of his coaches had asked.

“Sherlock Holmes is fun,” he had said.

“Well… yes, I suppose.”

He’d skated to plenty of music over the years, sometimes changing up his routine multiple times per season if it wasn’t working out, but he always looked favorably on this one.

The length of it was perfect, the pace of it even more so. There was a sort of frantic energy to parts of it that kept him moving, and other parts that slowed down enough for him to get some of his better, slower moves in.

It was also the perfect routine to try and rework after he’d been so injured.

He moved around the ice, getting a feel for everything as the music started to pick up. Good, he thought, he would need the motivation for his first jump.

Against his will, he found himself glancing up into the crowd and his stomach clenched as the nerves started to gnaw at him again.

There was no one out there actually for him. The idea had never truly bothered him before, not until he remembered watching Charles’s game with Niko and Crystal. What did it feel like to know you had multiple people in the stands who cared if you did well?

Even at Edwin’s peak, the only people he’d ever really had were Crystal and possibly his parents. But everyone else came with conditions– his parents’ clients, Simon, his coaches, all of them might have been rooting for him, but not just from the goodness of their hearts.

He jutted out his jaw, doing his best to try and force everything that wasn’t skating from his head. First, get through the program. Then he could break down.

His first jump was shaky, a double axel that he couldn't afford to mess up. All of his points mattered now that he couldn’t do his bigger and better skills.

Still, he tried to shake it off, to let all of his anger and frustration flow out of him as he lined up his next element. It was a spin he could do in his sleep, just a shift of the foot and he’d be done. Spins were still the one skill he could count on.

Usually.

He inhaled, shifting himself up as he went into his spin. The world blurred around him, swirls of colors forming into one messy blob.

He swallowed, the sharp, metallic taste of blood filling his mouth. It wasn’t real, he knew that, but still it made him want to throw up. He blinked and inhaled, hoping it would clear his vision.

It didn’t.

But that was fine. Edwin had grown up on the ice. He could navigate his way blindfolded around a rink if he had to. Still, he tried closing one eye at a time to see if that would help, but all that did was throw his balance off as he moved into his next jump.

Before his accident he had always used a quad for this requirement. He hadn’t always landed it, but it had been something he enjoyed challenging himself to try, to do the maximum amount of utter bullshit he could in one routine.

Now he’d be lucky if he made it through a simple one without wiping out. Or getting sick on the ice.

Still, he could do a jump. A single triple jump was nothing.

He moved fast, the song picking up its own pace around him. He jumped, and it felt like sparks of electricity had shot down his spine and through his leg when he landed. He couldn’t even tell what was real or imagined, the sparks combining with the taste of blood in his mouth as he moved on to his next jump.

His breathing came fast, far quicker than it usually did from skating. The blur that had taken over his vision seemed to grow, spreading until he felt as if he were squinting into a dark room and not a well lit arena.

Another spin, his leg stretched out far from his body. His spins used to be graceful, elegant even with his long limbs and fast movements. Now they felt slow and awkward, everything stretched too far to even remotely resemble anything close to graceful.

Flames licked at his leg, reminding him of the fact that less than a year before it had been a question of if he would ever be able to use it to skate again.

He was glad he couldn’t see much. Otherwise the urge to stop and look at himself, confirm that the blood wasn’t staining the black, blue, or silver of his costume would simply be too strong. It was stupid, he knew, but he’d had enough nightmares about it to know that sometimes that was the only way to fix the issue.

His step sequence flew by with him hardly even realizing it had come and gone. He’d have to review Coach King’s footage later to make sure he’d performed it correctly, but first he would have to make it off the ice.

The song came to an end and so did his program.

Edwin paused, his chest heaving far more than he cared to admit. He hoped he’d ended facing the judges, but the spotty, swirling mess in front of him gave him no clue which direction he might be turned towards.

He couldn’t remember leaving the ice.

The next thing that really registered was Simon grabbing him and telling him he did great, with the distinct look on his face that said otherwise.

He looked up and noticed he’d somehow managed to make his way over to Coach King as well. Before the man could say anything, Edwin leaned over, taking great pains to breathe in through his nose and out through his mouth, just to make sure he didn’t embarrass himself further.

His hands and costume were clear of blood.

“I got him, Simon,” Coach King said, far softer than Edwin had ever heard him before.

“I ruined it, didn’t I?” he asked, trying to regain his voice.

“Simon, go,” Coach King instructed. Edwin could hear him start to argue, but it must not have gone in his favor because he left only moments later.

Edwin, still bent over, his hands clasping his knees, saw Coach King’s shoes come into view. They were bright white, clearly new. It would be a shame if Edwin was sick on them.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” Coach King said.

Edwin’s hands were still shaking. “I messed up.”

Silence. Then, “Yeah. You did. But so did Simon. And like half of the other people here.”

Not like Edwin had. Most of Edwin’s routine might be a blur, but he knew that for sure.

“It’s your first competition back, Edwin. No one expected it to be perfect,” he said.

Edwin shot up, the bloody taste and stinging tears he had been pushing back hovering just on the other side. One wrong thing and it would tip him over and he would lose any control or composure he might have had.

“I did!” he said, and just like that tears started to fall.

He knew it was the worst idea he’d ever had. There were people around, other skaters, their coaches, reporters. So many people, all of them just waiting for him to break and snap like some broken porcelain doll.

It took less than a moment for Coach King to be on the move. Quickly, he tossed his jacket over Edwin’s head and herded him away from the group that had already gathered to watch him.

Edwin wished the ground would just open up and swallow him whole. He’d thought the feeling of potentially never skating again was the worst thing he would ever feel.

Turns out he was wrong. He could always find a new low.

The door to the locker room opened easily as Coach King ushered him inside. He made sure the door was closed before he turned to look at Edwin.

Edwin didn’t have any older siblings. The closest thing he had ever come to one before was Jenny, and he wasn’t sure she much cared for that title. Yet sitting right there, tears streaming down his face against his will, he felt as if he were sitting in front of his older brother.

“What happened out there?” Coach King asked. His voice was neutral, neither blaming nor excusing. It wasn’t coddling him either, which he appreciated.

Edwin held out his hands in front of him, the blood he’d once so easily been able to picture gone now. “I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “I simply… got lost.”

Confusion clouded his expression. “Lost in what? The routine? The rink? The song?”

Edwin shrugged, not really having a better explanation. “All of it, I suppose.”

Coach King tilted his head back and let out a silent curse. “Edwin, did it ever occur to you that you might need more than a year off after injuries like yours?” he asked.

“No.”

“Sorry. Should have known the answer to that, really,” he said, almost sarcastically. “What I meant was, most people would take more than a year off after everything you went through.”

Edwin made it a point to stare at the floor in front of him. At least his vision had cleared.

“You know I couldn’t do that,” Edwin mumbled.

“You could. You still could. There’s always time.”

Edwin shook his head, his fists pressing against each other until his knuckles popped. “I took a year off and look what it got me.”

“Fuck!” Coach King muttered and dropped down in front of him, forcing Edwin to look at him. “You didn’t take a year off, Edwin. None of the time you were stuck in the hospital or doing rehab exercises counted as fucking time off. Or at least it shouldn’t have.”

“But it did!” Edwin said. “That was a whole year of skating I missed out on. Now I’m a senior and what do I have to show for it?”

Realistically, a year off skating was not the end of the world to most skaters. But Edwin had been at the end of his junior career and getting ready to move into the senior category. It had also been the year he’d been projected to being the closest he’d ever come to the Olympics before, but now they would never know if he would have made it because everything had gotten fucked up.

A year off meant a year of other people getting better than him. Another year of training that they had that he didn’t. A year off plus his injuries meant relearning how even the basics could work for him again now that he could skate.

A year was a long time when it meant starting all over at the bottom again.

“This!” Coach King said, waving his hand at Edwin. “This is what you have to show for it. You did amazing out there, Edwin. Did you mess up? Yeah, but so did everyone else. You think anyone out there has a perfect score? They’d already be gold medalists if they did.”

Edwin tried to look away, but Coach King blocked his way. “Look, I’ve been where you are, Edwin. And it’s not fun or easy. But if you want to keep skating, you need to accept that you aren’t perfect.”

He didn’t think he was perfect. He just thought he was better than…this.

Coach signed as he stood up. “Let’s go back out there,” he said. “We’ll watch the final performances, get some dinner, and call it an early night. Deal?

Edwin sighed. It’s not as if he had any other choices.

XXX

That night in his hotel room, Edwin debated whether or not he should ask Coach King for his phone back. The urge to watch his performance he’d recorded was strong, though he knew it wouldn’t help him, and he knew that people were likely already talking about his terrible program online.

He shuddered to think of what they might be calling him.

Coach King didn’t believe in or enforce the ‘no phone’ rule, but Edwin knew what was good for himself. Sometimes.

It had always worked for him in the past, but then again, he’d usually had someone with him then. Crystal, usually, but also sometimes Simon if she were unavailable. They might be competitors, but that didn’t mean they both weren’t lonely during these things.

But Edwin didn’t even know if Simon was in this hotel, much less how to get a hold of him if he was. The chance that Coach Despair might be there, lingering at the edge of their conversations, was enough to keep him from reaching out to him anyways.

His mind drifted, as it always did, to Charles. He wondered what he would be doing at that moment. Would he still have to close up the rink that night, even if Edwin wasn’t skating? No, wait, he’d switched to the morning shifts, anyways. Would he instead be using this time to practice for himself? Or would he go out with his friends?

Was that where he had been the other night when Edwin had called?

Edwin wished he had memorized Charles’s number. He wasn’t sure what he would say to him if he answered, but he at least liked having the option. Now that his first routine had already gone so terrible, he didn’t see any harm in reaching out to him. It’s not like it could get much worse, after all.

Tension twisted inside of him, the pain in his back and leg flaring in response. God, what he wouldn’t give for his own bed back home. Even with spending the extra money on a nicer hotel the bed left a lot to be desired.

His dinner sat heavy in his stomach as he scrolled through the TV options. Everything seemed less fun when it was only him watching it.

Plus, there was the fact that he couldn’t stop thinking about his score. That truly did put a damper on most everything.

His score hadn’t been the worst. Middle of the pack, at best, but a terrible overall score for Edwin himself. Even Simon had done better than him today, and Simon wasn’t known for doing exceedingly well during his short programs.

But there was always tomorrow’s free skate, as Coach King had reminded him multiple times today. Tomorrow he would get another chance, and he would simply have to live with the results either way.

He only hoped he could.

XXX

Breakfast was a quiet affair the next morning. Coach King had tried to get him to speak, literally about anything from the sound of his ramblings, but Edwin had stayed stubbornly quiet. He wondered if that’s how King had been, a rambling, nervous energy before his performances, or if he’d been closer to Edwin when it mattered.

They’d only been at the rink for a short time when Simon caught up with them. Together, they stretched and warmed up, though neither one of them had much to say to each other.

Coach Despair was nowhere in sight.

Edwin almost felt bad for Simon. Coaches should be there for their students, from beginning to end if that’s what they wanted. Still, he would be lying if he said that he wasn’t grateful for her being as far away from Edwin as possible.

“How did you sleep?” Simon asked.

Edwin winced. He knew the dark bags under his eyes would give him away if he tried to lie. “Terribly. I am fairly certain my hotel bed could be used as a torture device.”

Simon snorted. “Understandable. There was a crying baby next to my room all night,” he said, and Edwin winced again in sympathy.

“Is…” Edwin looked around, as if she might be summoned by the mere mention of her name. “Is she here?” He hadn’t seen her today so far, though he had caught glimpses of her yesterday.

“Yeah, she’s here. Somewhere,” Simon said. It was hard to ignore the bitterness in his tone as he glanced around.

The day seemed to simultaneously trudge on and fly by. Edwin watched as skater after skater took the ice, their bodies swaying and flowing so gracefully it was hard to look away.

Edwin did though. Through most of their performances.

Occasionally, Coach King would lean over and fill him in on something. This guy fumbled, this one aced a triple but touched out on another. On and on until Edwin was able to tune him out into a nice, dull roar.

He could feel himself growing steadily more nervous and steadily less… there.

He couldn’t even remember Simon standing up to go perform, though he must have wished him luck. Luck, because break a leg seemed in poor taste considering… everything.

By the time his performance had started Edwin was numb. Both mind and body.

“And here we have Edwin Payne again, good to see he didn’t let a little stumble from yesterday throw him.”

“Definitely good to see. And you know what else is good to see? A brand new routine and song from him, I can’t wait to see what he’s got in store.”

He circled his spot in the rink, holding his arms gently against his body as he waited for the music to start. This routine depended upon gentleness, or at least perceived gentleness. Softness. Swaying. Flowers and willows on riverbanks, not Persephone, but something more human. Something more tragic.

Edwin could do tragedy.

Coach King had been the one to convince him to use the song. All of his other free skate songs were too tied to his old routines, and all of them put far too much emphasis on skills he no longer solidly had down.

He’d tried, for the first little bit he’d returned to skating, but it had been too hard, too painful. All of it just reminding him of what he could no longer do, while not really solving the issue of providing him with a routine.

Hours were spent pouring over songs to try and nail it down. His short program song had been easy in comparison, an old song with an updated routine to match his skills he had gained since he was a child– a nice little homage to a younger Edwin who had sat around reading detective novels and playing spies with Crystal, but this one had been much harder.

He’d wanted something unique, something that he’d hadn’t seen done before, but not something so out there it would upset the judges. Multiple songs had been on the line, but it had been Coach King who had really pushed for this one.

“You wanted to do a routine to this one before, right?” he asked.

Edwin nodded. “But it never worked out. The choreographer said it didn’t match.”

“Your choreographer was lazy and didn’t know jack shit. That’s why you were so focused on the wrong skills for years. If you want to do this song, we’ll figure out a way to make it work.”

All he had to do was get through this performance, and he’d be done for the weekend. He could do that. It’s not like it was hard, he’d done it literally countless times before.

Hell, he used to change up his songs and choreography all the time when he was younger just because he got tired of it. The idea of debuting a new set shouldn’t be as nerve inducing as it was.

But yesterday proved that it had been noticed. That even his ‘less changed’ short program was still changed enough that it deserved a comment on, despite it sort of being a “return to his roots” type of thing.

Which Edwin had expected, and Coach King had prepared him for. None of this should be a surprise to him.

And yet he still felt as though he were going to be sick.

The first note started, and Edwin moved. He tried to keep his arms ‘light and airy’ looking, though they felt like numb, weighed down things. Like gelatin that threatened to suck him down if he wasn’t careful.

Still, he needed to pick up speed or else he wouldn’t be able to get the height that he needed. Start big, end small. That way he wouldn’t need to hold onto all of his energy and maintain things. If he did his hardest skills first, then there would be nothing to worry about. He would know where he stood with the rest of the performance. There wouldn’t be as much pressure.

“What I wanted was to fall asleep
Close my eyes, and disappear
Like a petal on a stream, a feather on the air,”

Backwards he went until the last moment when he forced himself up and into the air. He knew it would likely only be a triple lutz, an impressive feat to be sure, but nothing compared to the quads he used to be able to pull off.

He landed, a bit shakier than he would have liked, but still solid. He would work with that. Solid was usable.

The next one would take more than a solid landing, however. A combo– a triple flip toe loop wasn’t hard, or at least it shouldn’t be, but Edwin still felt off as he moved into it.

He kept his arms raised above his head, a ballet move he’d perfected years ago when he’d taken a few lessons to better his figure skating skills.

“Dreams are sweet until they’re not,
Men are kind until they aren’t,
Flowers bloom until they rot and fall apart,”

He moved into a triple salchow jump, following the lyrics. He would need to be quick if he wanted to keep up with everything and move into one of his spins.

Once again the landing could use some work. He wasn’t sure why he had perfected those landings in practice but couldn’t seem to come close to landing any of them here. Still, it was strong, it was enough.

He breathed in, preparing himself for his spin. He sank down into a sitting spin before allowing the momentum to carry himself back up to his feet, where he grabbed one of his skates and moved it until it was behind his head in a half Biellmann.

His back immediately protested it, but Edwin pushed through. What did it really matter if he was able to pull this off?

It wasn’t quite the level he’d been able to do before his injury, his back far too stiff and ill-suited for such a thing, but he could still do a half. He could still grip that cold blade in his hand as he went around and around, until he could bring himself to a stop and continued on.

Coach King had made an argument that Edwin probably shouldn’t do such a thing, but Edwin had overruled him. He’d already lost so many of his jumps, he couldn’t lose his spins as well, what would that leave him with?

A functioning back and leg, probably, but what did that matter if he couldn’t use them for what he wanted?

“You, the one I left behind
If you ever walk this way,
Come and find me lying in the bed I made.”

Edwin moved into his final position, one of his hands outstretched towards the judges, the other clasped over his heart.

He couldn’t hear anything over the rush of blood in his ears, though he could see people clapping. Were they pity clapping, or actually clapping.

Edwin didn’t know.

His exit from the ice went much smoother this time. Coach King still met him there, a proud smile on his face. He must not have messed up as badly as he imagined he had.

Edwin still felt sick.

“I need a minute,” Edwin said as he stumbled past his coach. He’d probably regret that once he didn’t feel as though his guts were going to become intimately familiar with the ground.

He stumbled blindly down the hallway, towards the locker room Coach King had led him into yesterday. If he could only have a minute away from everyone he could calm down, he could reconnect with everything going on around him and feel like a person again.

“Edwin Payne!”

His name forced him to stop, barely even registering the decision to do so. He turned and saw perhaps the only thing worse than absolutely wiping out on the ice.

Coach Despair stood at the end of the hallway, her signature tracksuit and messy bun in place as she all but glared at him. Next to her was a blonde woman, a sturdy iron cane in her hand and a slightly manic grin on her face.

Edwin would recognize her anywhere.

Esther Finch.

Two of his least favorite people in the world standing right next to each other. Talking.

“Be a doll and come here for a second,” Esther said.

Edwin didn’t move. If he did he’d probably fall to the ground.

“Ooh, playing hard to get. Well, you are worth it. Unlike a lot of these other skaters, who are just hard to want,” she said. Her cane clinked loudly against the ground as they made their way over to him.

He looked behind them, searching for any sign of Coach King.

“Great performance, really brought the… emotion,” she said, her voice nasally on the last word, as if it disgusted her. “That’s what the sponsors like to see.”

Edwin swallowed.

“Esther is interested in being your agent,” Coach Despair said.

This was old news. Esther had wanted to be his agent even before his accident. He was only surprised she still wanted to be his agent. She didn’t look fondly upon those she viewed as weak or lacking.

“That is a kind offer,” Edwin said, finally unsticking his tongue from the roof of his mouth. “But I already have one.”

One of the first things his father had done once he was old enough was set him up with an agent for his sponsorships. His father might be many things, but he wasn’t a fool when it came to Payne money.

“Yes, yes, yes, and I’m sure they’re lovely, but you’re going places. Probably. And you need someone with more… drive. Someone who is going to better represent your needs. And your coach’s,” Esther said and awkwardly tapped Coach Despair’s shoulder.

Edwin ground his teeth together. “Thomas King is my coach,” he said.

“That tomcat is just one of your coaches. The same way you are just one of Dolores’s students. But I could make sure you’re her most important student.”

Edwin knew what being important to her got you.

“No,” he said. “Thank you,” he added, just so no one could say he wasn’t polite.

He turned to leave, his leg aching and his head spinning but they kept talking.

“Chances like this don’t come along everyday, you brat,” she said.

God did Edwin hope that was true.

A hand grabbed his elbow. It wasn’t even hard or tight, just enough to stop him from moving away. Against his will he turned back, only to find Coach Despair standing inches from him.

“You’re making a mistake,” she said. Such a simple sentence, only four words long, and yet it slammed into Edwin like a train.

He’d heard something like that from her a million times before. You made a mistake, she would say before making him run something again and again until he couldn’t get back up. You’re making a mistake, she would say when he and Simon would try and go home for the night.

What a mistake, she’d said in his hospital room before being banned from it.

Edwin didn’t care anything about being polite after that. He ripped his arm from her and ran.

XXX

The locker room was blissfully empty when he stumbled in. Was he even supposed to be in there? Coach King had led him here yesterday, but that didn’t mean it was open.

His leg gave out, and Edwin laid down. Or at least that’s how he chose to think of it. Laid down and not full on collapsed to the dirty locker room floor because he missed the bench.

Ice coated agony shot through his knee as he landed on it and stole his breath from him. None of this helped the panic he could slowly feel brewing behind his rib cage and every breath he did manage to take in seemed to twist the nerves in his back the wrong way.

Maybe Coach King had been right about taking more than a year off.

Pain so strong it made him see stars behind his eyelids ripped through him. This was fine. Everything was normal, this was a normal reaction to overworking something and sleeping on a less than ideal bed and over practicing and maybe even being dehydrated and had nothing to do with Coach Despair or Esther or–

He balled his hand into a fist and punched the bench next to him just to feel something different.

“Edwin, shit,” Simon said.

Simon.

He gasped and reached his hand out to try and find him, somewhere out to his side. A moment later and Simon was there, his hand gripping Edwin’s so tight that he nearly cut off his circulation.

It felt better than everything else going on.

“Is it– what is it?” Simon asked. Edwin could feel him run a hand over his side and neck, checking for anything that could be wrong.

He whined as his hand moved towards his leg before second-guessing and moving it to his back. His back could and had caused both before.

“Is that it?” he asked, gently running his hand down his spine.

And Edwin didn’t know how to say what was wrong. That his spine and leg hurt beyond belief, that he’d ruined his chance at ever making it to the Olympics, that he should have given up on all of this a long time ago, that Coach Despair was never going to let him go…

That he had looked out at those stands and known that not a single person had cared if he won or lost.

“Shit, I’ll–okay,” Simon said. “I’ll get Coach King.”

Edwin reached out and latched onto his hand, refusing to let him leave for even a moment. It all felt so familiar, just like when he’d first gotten hurt and everything had been so much. He didn’t want to be alone right now.

As if he were reading his mind, Simon resorted to pulling out his phone.

Slowly, the pain subsided, though that tired sort of sense of removal refused to leave. He didn’t dare try to get off the floor just yet; instead he curled up just slightly enough that he could hide his face next to Simon’s legs.

Simon must have gotten through to Coach King, because he was there a moment later.

“What happened?” he asked, first to Edwin and then to Simon.

“I think it was his back?” Simon said. Which was part of the problem, to be sure, and Edwin didn’t have it in him to tell him what the rest was. Not right now, at least.

He was sure Coach King would figure it out anyways the second he saw those two together.

Coach King cursed under his breath. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

As if Edwin had intended to go anywhere else.

He was back in a flash, an ice pack already secured. Edwin wondered if he’d expected this.

Coach King shifted the back of his costume down, exposing his skin as he checked it out. Edwin wondered if his pain was visible, how could the trails of lightning he could feel shooting through him not be?

He then did the same thing with his leg. Surgery scars stared back at them, his pale skin holding the pink far longer than most people seemed to.

Simon looked away, his hand squeezing Edwin’s tighter. Shame filled Edwin, and all he wanted to do was pull the black leg of his costume back into place where it belonged.

“I think you’ve just strained yourself,” Coach King said, his inspection complete. “But we can have you looked over before we leave.”

“No,” Edwin said, the first strong words he’d been able to say since he had left Esther and Coach Despair behind. “I– no. I’m fine.”

He tried to summon all the strength he had left to give him a reassuring… grimace. Because there was no way he could even hope to call the thing he did a smile.

“Don’t be stupid, Edwin,” Coach King said. “If you’re hurt we need to get you looked at.”

He wasn’t. Not in any way that a rink-side paramedic would be able to help, anyways. He likely just needed to lie down and not move for a while. And get as far away as possible from both Esther and Coach Despair.

Or take a hot shower. Those usually helped him.

Too bad there were a few performances and a four hour car ride between him and a shower.

“Now is really not the time to be stubborn,” Coach King said. “Can you stand?”

Could he? All of his limbs were capable of moving but that didn’t always translate to being able to support him.

“Yes,” Edwin decided.

It took using Simon’s shoulder to actually get him to his feet. He could feel both of them giving him a critical look, as if he might keel over right there in their arms.

The odds were higher than he liked to admit.

Still, he managed to walk out of the locker room relatively unassisted. Simon followed them back to where they had been sitting, before he got pulled away, back to Coach Despair’s side.

Once at their seats Coach King handed him his water bottle and a protein shake, as well as a bag that he knew contained some apples slices and containers of peanut butter.

“Eat, drink. Don’t even think about getting up before I tell you,” he said.

Edwin nodded, though the last thing he wanted to do was eat. He also didn’t appreciate being talked to as if he were a child, though he supposed this most recent experience didn’t exactly prove him mature or responsible.

Not that he could have helped it.

“You wanna tell me what happened?” Coach King asked, his voice so quiet he could hardly hear it over the music playing overhead.

Edwin shook his head, trying to focus on the performance happening in front of them. It was rude to leave like he had. He really should have been watching and respecting his fellow competitors.

He sipped his protein shake, hating the grainy texture it left on his tongue. It reminded him of dirt or ash, small pieces left behind until it nearly choked him.

He drained his water, which was quickly replaced with another.

“Shit,” Coach King muttered, and Edwin didn’t even have to follow his eyes to know that he had spotted who was sitting next to Simon now. Her bright, almost white-blonde hair stood out so well sitting next to Simon and Coach Despair’s all black outfits.

“We’ll stay until the end, but the second the awards are done we leave. No extra pictures or interviews, and I’m driving you home,” he said.

Edwin nodded again, the protein shake almost coming back up. He could handle car rides as long as he was the one driving, but a four hour long car ride as a passenger? He might as well be in literal hell.

Edwin liked to think he paid attention to the rest of the performances, but he didn’t. There were only a few after him, each one running into the other until he wasn’t sure when one stopped and another started.

The awards ceremony was equally as blurry and short. At one point he was handed a medal, and it took him a moment to realize he had placed third in the competition, somehow only just managing to scrape it by the skin of his teeth.

People around him cheered, both for him and the other two winners. Coach King looked proud, if a little concerned, and Edwin steadily avoided looking anywhere near where Coach Despair might be, not even wanting to know what expression she would have.

Simon smiled next to him from his place on the second-place stand. Edwin couldn’t remember the last time he had scored higher than him, but he couldn’t argue that he deserved it.

The next little bit was a whirlwind of dodging pictures and questions from reporters. This event wasn’t even a big or majorly important one, he couldn’t imagine how he was expected to deal with those.

At least it seemed King was an expert at escaping direction questions, likely from his own experience as an injured skater.

Still, by the time they got outside it was nearing dark.

“You good?” Coach King asked, searching Edwin’s face for any sign he might not be.

Edwin eyed his own SUV warily. He’d never actually been a passenger in it before.

“The sooner we leave, the sooner we can get home,” he said. He tugged his hoodie closer to himself, glad he had taken the chance to remove his costume the first chance he could. The soft navy material of his hoodie felt like heaven, it felt like home…

It felt like Charles.

He handed his medal to Coach King as he crawled into the backseat and strapped himself in. Thankfully, Coach King didn’t ask any questions about his behavior. Instead, he merely nodded and got into the driver’s seat.

Edwin could only hope that the ride would go by fast.

XXX

He must have fallen asleep at some point. The nights of worry leading up to his competition, the stress, his pain, the lack of anything to do other than go over everything that had happened again and again must have lulled him to sleep, though he couldn't even guess when.

Coach King was talking to someone, their voices droning and buzzing just outside the car, barely strong enough to get through Edwin’s sleepy haze.

He ignored it. All he wanted to do was go back to sleep, to peacefully forget that any of the last couple of days had happened, but he knew that wasn’t possible.

The door next to Edwin opened, startling him enough that he jerked upright and awake.

Charles smiled at him, his eyes almost sparkling in the low, low midnight light. The chain around his neck caught just enough of it that Edwin couldn’t help but feel his eyes go down from his eyes to his chain, lingering for just a moment on his lips.

He must have been dreaming. That was the only thing that made sense.

Charles’s grin grew wider as he leaned in to help him out of the car. “Long time no see, mate.”

Notes:

I am so sorry this chapter ended up a few days late! At least it came out a little bit longer to make up for it!

The song Edwin uses for his short program is Panic, Shear Bloody Panic from 2009 Sherlock Holmes films. The song he uses for his free skate is Flowers from Hadestown. His costume is basically supposed to be a blue, silver, and black version of Shoma Uno's 2017-2018 Japanese National Figure skating Championships costume.

Thank you for reading!

Chapter 18: If The World Should Spin Too Fast, I'll Slow It Down For You

Notes:

"Falling from this height,
just might break your light,
take a chance for me,
the only way you see,
twist your hand into mine,
don't you leave this behind
[...]
oh just shut your mouth,
and know that you are everything to me,
can't we just let go
of what we can't control
and if that world should spin too fast,
I'll slow it down for you,"
- Slow It Down by The Goo Goo Dolls

Charles jogged in place, simultaneously trying to keep warm and release some of the energy that had been building up in him. Edwin’s porch was small but enclosed, shielding him from most of the chilly breeze as he tried to decide what he should say first.

He’d gone over the list in his head a million and one times, but now that he was about to see Edwin, it all seemed useless. He glanced at his phone, watching the minutes tick by, each one bringing him and Edwin closer and closer to each other.

A dark SUV pulled into Edwin’s drive, the headlights cutting off as quickly as they had appeared.

Coach King stepped out from the driver’s seat. Edwin didn’t.

Charles immediately started towards the vehicle. “Where is he?” he asked, glancing around behind him, as if Edwin’s lanky frame could have been hidden from sight.

He held up a hand, locking Charles in place. “He’s asleep in the backseat,” he said. “But listen–”

“Asleep? But he doesn’t ride in cars,” Charles cut in.

Coach King narrowed his eyes. “Well, he certainly wasn’t going to drive us home,” he said as he shut the door. “That’s beside the point, though.”

He glanced behind himself, as if he were double checking that Edwin wasn’t there. “These last couple of days have sucked. Not his skating, that actually went surprisingly well. But all of this was…a lot to say the least,” he said.

“Right,” Charles said. He’d gotten that idea from their phone call before. If he didn’t get to his point soon Charles was going to go around him and open the door himself.

“Ideally, I think Edwin should take at least another year off before he starts skating competitively again,” he said, and held his hand up when Charles went to protest, “But I think we both know that won’t happen.”

The idea of Edwin even taking a week off skating was hard to manage, though Charles knew he had done so before. Expecting him to take a whole year off? Insane, impossible. He would never go for it.

Charles looked at Coach King and wondered what he was possibly thinking. Why he had even told Charles they were coming home tonight or implied he should be here when they arrived.

As if Charles would have done any differently.

“Why are you telling me this?” Charles asked.

“Because you care about him. And he needs someone to do that,” he said. “It’s nice that he has his childhood friend and his skating rival and of course his coach, but he needs more than that. Plus, you haven’t seen how miserable he’s looked since he stopped mentioning your name this past week.”

Charles imagined it was at least as miserable as he’d looked and been feeling.

He tried to think over his response, something well-crafted and thought out that would show he understood his role in this and how important he thought Edwin was to himself in return, but he couldn’t. It seemed too hard to nail down, too important to say to Edwin’s coach before he said it to Edwin anyways.

He looked down the street, watching cars pull through the intersection and out into the night. “Did he at least win?” he asked, unsure what else there was to say. If Edwin had gone through all this and he didn’t even get to go on to the next stage…

Coach King sighed. “Third place. Low scores compared to what he used to get, but amazing considering… everything.”

Everything. Right.

“Anyways, it’s late, and my ride’s almost here. He’s all yours,” he said. He placed a phone Charles immediately clocked as Edwin’s in his hand before gesturing to the car.

Charles wasted no time in opening the door. Edwin jumped, his eyes blinking owlishly at him and Charles couldn’t help but smile at him. He looked like he hadn’t slept in a week, dark bags circling under his eyes and he seemed distinctly sluggish and slow as he stared at Charles.

“Long time no see, mate,” he said as he reached in to help him unbuckle.

Edwin let him, his expression tired and vacant.

“Charles?” he asked. Confusion dripped from his words, as if Charles was the last person he had ever expected to be there.

And maybe that was true. The thought of that twisted something deep in Charles’s gut and up into his heart.

“Yeah, mate, it’s me,” he said, still holding his hand out. “Why don’t we getcha outta the car and inside where it’s warm?”

Edwin nodded, his cold, shaking hand sliding into Charles’s. Then, at the last second, he seemed to realize what exactly standing entailed, and he started to tip forward.

A hiss escaped Edwin’s teeth as he suddenly squeezed Charles’s hand in his and grabbed his shoulder with the other. Without even needing to be asked, Charles ducked under Edwin’s arm and helped him stay on his feet, taking the weight off the leg he seemed to be favoring.

“I gotcha,” Charles said, and he’d never been gladder that he had spent a good chunk of his gym time lifting weights. It made holding up Edwin’s–admittedly muscular, body easy.

He looked back over to Coach King, who had grabbed Edwin’s bags from the back and set them in the driveway. “Eat. Sleep. And for the love of God do not practice for the next couple of days,” he said.

Edwin shifted, turning just enough that he could also look at Coach King. He opened his mouth to say something but quickly shut it. His grip on Charles’s hand tightened yet again, threatening to cut off his circulation in the process.

“I–” Edwin started before cutting himself off again, and God, there was something about the way Edwin sounded. He sounded weak and tired and so unlike the person Charles had first met. Even that night on the ice, after he’d hurt himself, he’d still sounded so strong. Passionate, stubborn, vicious– whatever word you wanted to use to describe it, Edwin had sounded it.

Now he didn’t. Now he clung to Charles’s hand and leaned heavily on his shoulder like he might tip right on over if Charles so much as shifted. Not that Charles would let that happen, of course.

“We can meet up to go over footage and everything on Monday. If you’re feeling better,” his coach specified. It felt and sounded like a trick to Charles.

Edwin closed his mouth and nodded, nothing more to be said.

Charles flashed Coach King a grateful smile. “Cheers,” he said. “Thanks for getting him home.”

Home. Said as if Edwin’s home was with Charles and not the physical home behind him. What a bold choice.

Coach King’s eyes narrowed briefly on Charles, which was all the warning Charles really needed. Be careful. Don’t do or say anything stupid. Make sure he’s okay.

It was somehow both easy and extremely difficult to get Edwin in the house. Easy because he didn’t resist at all, a model example of obedience as he stepped in time with Charles.

Difficult, because despite Edwin’s will to listen to him, it seemed his body had other ideas.

Charles could feel him flinch every time he put pressure on his leg, every time he inhaled. He kept his head down, as if looking at his feet might somehow close the distance between them and the door faster.

A car pulled up, and Coach King got inside. Charles hardly even noticed it.

Edwin’s door swung open, and Charles was grateful he’d at least been there once as they stepped over the lip of the doorway and inside. He maneuvered them easily enough into the living room and settled Edwin down onto the couch.

“Gonna go get your stuff, be right back,” he said.

Edwin hardly even acknowledged him. Instead, he sank down just a bit further into the couch, his eyelids growing heavier and heavier right before Charles’s eyes.

At least it didn’t seem as though it would be a fight to get Edwin to sleep.

Charles grabbed Edwin’s bags from outside and left them just inside the door. He could figure out where to put them later, when he wasn’t so worried.

The living room was just as quiet as it had been when Charles left. Edwin had barely moved, only seeming to fall deeper into sleep in the time it had taken him.

“Alright, first order is getting food,” Charles said, forcing a chipperness that he didn’t feel into his tone. “Whatcha want?”

Edwin looked up at him, almost seeming to be surprised that he was still there.

“I want to shower,” he said, his voice still dead.

Charles still maintained his smile. “Right. Okay. But what about dinner? It’s late, but there are still some places open. Or I could… cook something?” He glanced towards Edwin’s kitchen and wondered what he might even have in there.

Edwin shrugged as he struggled to pull himself up from the couch. He hissed again, all of him seeming to lock up about halfway to standing.

“Whoa, easy now,” Charles said, quickly resting his hands on his shoulder as he pushed him back down. “If you wanna shower, you can shower. I just need to make sure you’re not gonna fall over in there, yeah?” He leaned down, trying to catch Edwin’s eye.

He did, those gray-green eyes widening just a bit as he did so. As if he had just realized how close this position had put them, their faces so close to each other, while still somehow too far apart.

“I’m fine,” Edwin said.

“Yeah, I believe ya,” Charles said, nodding. Playing along with him seemed better than flat out arguing with him right now.

Edwin nodded, accepting this answer, and he must really be gone to not realize what Charles was doing. Or maybe he was ignoring it. Either way, Charles was worried.

“I just… might need help up the stairs,” Edwin said, glancing down the hallway.

Right, because Edwin couldn’t possibly want to shower in the bathroom downstairs, no, he had to be difficult and want the upstairs one.

But still, Charles wasn’t going to push it. If this is what it took to get Edwin back to himself then so be it. Charles would carry him up the stairs if he had to.

Not that he thought Edwin would let him. It was just a thought.

Getting Edwin upstairs was still a challenge Charles hadn’t expected. Despite the fact that they were both rather thin and muscular, it still took a lot of wiggling and squirming to get into a position that would let him help Edwin up while also not slamming him into the wall.

Which really only brought to mind an image Charles would rather not have on the brain as he was helping a hurt Edwin to the shower.

Still, they managed it. He set him down on the closed toilet seat lid and let his eyes roam over him, inspecting him. “You sure you’re good?” he asked.

Edwin nodded, a grimace on his face. “I need to. It’ll only get worse if I don’t.”

Charles didn’t know what he was referring to. His pain? His mental state? It didn’t matter, truly, if it helped Edwin then it helped him.

“Fine. Do you… want help?” he asked and immediately felt like a creep for it.

“What?” Edwin asked. His face was so red it would put strawberries to shame. Much better than the pale, washed-out sickly color it had been before, even if it came at Charles’s expense.

“Not like that!” Charles said, holding up his hands. “Just meant, like… Getting undressed or in or out or– I’m gonna stop talking now.”

Edwin stared at him; clearly thrown for the furthest loop Charles had ever seen him in his life. “No, I am perfectly capable of bathing myself,” Edwin said. “Unless… that’s not what you meant?”

Charles couldn’t read Edwin’s tone. Was he confused? Disappointed? It was impossible to tell with him so unlike his usual self.

“Nope, it was! Just gonna… alright, yeah,” Charles said, hooking a thumb over his shoulder as he turned to leave. “Oh wait!”

He reached down into his pockets and pulled out Edwin’s phone. “Coach King gave it to me. I’ll just leave it here so you can call if you need me.” He set the phone on the shelf next to the tub, close enough that Edwin could reach it if he really did fall, but not so close that it would get wet.

The screen lit up, a dozen or more notifications filling the phone screen. Charles tried not to let himself be nosey about them, but it was almost impossible. A million and one from himself, a couple from Crystal and Simon– far more recent than the others. And one phone call from someone listed as “Violet.”

Charles tried to not wonder who that could be.

“You shower, and I’ll figure out the food situation, yeah?” he asked. He ignored the way Edwin turned a sort of greenish hue at the mention of food, preferring to try and stay positive in all this.

He turned, leaving the door open just a crack so he could also keep an ear out in case Edwin needed him. He waited in the hallway until the shower started up before heading down to figure out what could be for dinner.

Edwin’s kitchen was incredible. Magnificent, really. He’d thought it the first time he was there, though there had been a lot of other factors going on at that moment that led to him overlooking it for the most part.

Now he was able to actually walk through it and God had it never been more apparent that he and Edwin had grown up differently.

Clean, sparkling countertops. Fancy light fixtures. A giant, stainless steel fridge with a matching dishwasher, blender, coffeemaker, and toaster. He couldn’t see a microwave or anything like that, but maybe it was one of those rich-people things where they hid something like that. Like their rubbish bin.

His fridge was full of fresh fruit and vegetables and all the things that he knew Edwin regularly ate. Though there didn’t seem to be any pre-made meals inside, all of it would need to be cooked and assembled, and Charles wasn’t that confident in Edwin’s kitchen. Maybe if he’d bought the ingredients, but not like this.

The cabinets were even more useless. Whereas Charles had snacks for days, it would see Edwin really only survived on granola bars, protein shakes, and fruit between his meals. Not exactly a hearty meal for someone in Edwin’s position.

Sighing, Charles closed the cabinet and pulled out his phone. It was after midnight and most places were closed at this point, but pizza and Chinese places in college towns were always open.

Once an order for pizza was made, Charles walked back down the hall, straining his ear to hear up the stairs. The only sound he could make out was the shower running. He stamped down on the urge to call out to Edwin or to go up and check on him. Edwin was a grown adult. He could shower by himself.

But he thought of how shaky he had been. What if he fell? What if his leg gave out and he hit his head and he couldn’t call for help? What if, what if, what if…

He checked the time. Ten minutes had already passed since he’d left him in there. If it went on for much longer, he would go upstairs and check on him.

Instead, he busied himself downstairs. He pulled out plates and bottles of water to set up on the coffee table. He pulled blankets from one of the spare chairs to layer up on the couch for Edwin when he got out in case he was cold, and he turned the TV on to some reality show he thought Edwin might enjoy, though he left it on mute for the moment.

He wanted to call Crystal. Was all of this normal? Or was this something worse? Coach King had seemed very concerned when he’d contacted Charles, but the man had known Edwin for less than a year. Crystal had known him her whole life.

But he wouldn’t do that. She and Niko had been so sick the last couple of days, and the last thing he wanted to do was wake her up if she was finally sleeping or worry her without just cause.

The shower turned off. Charles turned his head to look towards the landing before making his way over.

“Food’s on its way,” he yelled up.

Edwin didn’t answer.

Which was fine. He probably didn’t hear him. The shower had turned off, which meant that he was fine.

Unless he wasn’t.

Since when had Charles turned into such a worrier? He couldn’t ever remember worrying about anyone as much as he was worried about Edwin. What trigger had flipped inside his brain that told him this was the person he should use all that pent up energy on?

And why did it have to be the one person who seemed hell bent on rejecting anyone worrying about them?

“Edwin?” he called out. If he didn’t answer him, Charles was at least going to move to the top of the stairs. The odds he hadn’t heard him were pretty good, after all.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Edwin answered.

“Yes?” he asked. His voice sounded stronger than it had before, though still as strained.

“Food’s almost here,” Charles repeated, feeling stupid for having been so concerned.

“Oh,” Edwin said, still out of sight. “Well… Thank you. I will pay you back.”

Charles wanted to tell him that he didn’t have to, that there didn’t have to be a ‘pay me back’ situation at all, that this was what friends did– and maybe more than friends did, if Edwin ever really wanted him like that, but all of his words froze in his throat as Edwin stepped out.

At first Charles’s only thought was holy shit. Edwin was wrapped up in a towel, but that seemed to be it. There was so much skin that Charles could see, miles and miles of pale skin littered with freckles or moles and tinted red from what must have been a scalding shower. He could see where Edwin had scratched, his fingers leaving trails across his skin in places.

Before Charles could explore the idea of Edwin’s fingers scratching bare skin, his eyes dropped down to his legs and a very distinct shift happened.

He’d never seen Edwin’s bare legs before. He’d seen his arms in short sleeved shirts, he’d seen the small of his back– bruised and scraped from missed jumps– but he’d never seen his legs.

They were just as muscular as his arms, even more so, really. It made sense, Edwin made a literal living off of hurling himself into the air on those things, but that wasn’t what Charles noticed.

What he noticed were the scars.

On a good day they might not be as noticeable. But in the dim hallway light, lit up only from the light coming out of the bathroom and flushed red from his hot shower, they were a stark contrast against his pale skin.

There were multiple, too. Trailing from ankle to up under the towel he had secured around his waist, it seemed as if there were no limit to the amount of damage that had been done to them.

What the fuck?

Charles felt himself freeze in place as Edwin walked towards what he assumed was his room, one hand on the wall to support himself. He hadn’t even noticed Charles there, staring up into the second floor.

It felt as if someone had kicked Charles’s feet out from underneath him.

He knew that Edwin had been hurt. That he’d had one of his seasons cut short by an accident. But Charles had assumed it was something small, something that, while serious, would have healed in a year.

This wasn’t that. This was… Charles didn’t know what this was, but he felt something building up inside that he didn’t have a name for. Fury? Anger? A strange sense of unease? Directed at who, he didn’t know. A person? A being? What really constituted an ‘accident’?

Looking at those scars it was easy to believe Edwin’s life had been in danger.

If Charles had to be grateful to Simon for the rest of his life he was going to lose it.

The doorbell rang and Charles scrambled to answer it, his thoughts still tossing and turning.

He set up the pizza on the coffee table, and wondered if he should do anything else. Thankfully, he didn’t have long to stew in his thoughts, as Edwin stumbled down the stairs not too long after.

He blinked as he entered the living room. “You ordered pizza,” he said.

Charles nodded. “I made sure it was as close to the thing you ordered last time,” he said. Because Charles was smart, Charles took notes, even if they were only in his head.

He basically had a whole filing cabinet full of things Edwin liked and disliked.

Slowly, Edwin made his way over, a grimace of pain still in place. He eased himself down onto the couch next to Charles, and Charles wasted no time in covering them both up with the blankets as he dragged the coffee table closer.

“Feel better?” Charles asked.

Edwin shrugged. “Showers help,” he said, though he didn’t elaborate what they helped.

“Good. That’s good, mate,” Charles said. And really, how many times did he have to call Edwin mate? There had to be a limit right, before Edwin questioned him?

He didn’t. Instead, he sank back into the couch, not even reaching for his food.

Charles, never one to be deterred, simply picked the box up to set in his lap.

It at least earned him a small smile from Edwin.

“Pizza used to be what we’d eat after hockey games,” Charles said. “The team would all go out to eat pizza at this place nearby, but I couldn’t ever really go. Not enough money, right? But my mum, she learned how to make a pretty good pizza at home. Not none of that frozen stuff. Homemade crust and everything,” Charles said, picking up a piece to eat.

Edwin watched him, his eyes tracking every movement, every word as if it were something special. Who knows, it might be. Charles certainly felt like something special was happening.

He left out the part that his mum had stopped making pizza after his dad got mad about the mess and ‘all the money’ being wasted. As if one kid sized pizza was enough to send them into the poor house and not his own bad spending habits.

“Pretty good,” Charles said, holding his pizza up in a ‘cheers’ motion. “Not homemade good, but still good.” Edwin smiled and picked up his own slice, which Charles counted as a win.

“My mother and I would get strawberry milkshakes,” Edwin said, his voice quiet.

Charles briefly paused in chewing before quickly continuing. He tried to think whether or not Edwin had ever mentioned his mother. He’d seen first hand what his father was like, but his mother was a mystery.

“S’good tradition,” Charles said.

“It was.”

There was something so heartbreaking about the way that Edwin said that that made Charles want to bundle him up, to wrap him up in those blankets on the couch and never let him go. He didn’t care how ridiculous it was or the fact that they had literally been fighting just last week. All Charles could see was a smaller, younger Edwin, who needed someone to take care of him.

Guilt flooded him once more as he thought about the fact that he wasn’t there when Edwin had needed him. That Edwin had had to go to his competition all alone, simply because he and Charles had been too stubborn to be adults about anything.

“Charles, why are you here?” Edwin asked.

Charles stared at him. The pizza slice in his hand was growing cold, though he had at least taken a couple of bites out of it now. He’d been expecting him to be staring off and away, like he tended to do when he asked hard questions, but he was startled to realize Edwin was staring right back at him.

Those taunting green eyes were unendingly sad as he looked at him. All Charles wanted to do was make him happy again, to see them sparkle like he knew they could. Or hell, even glare at him in anger or resentment or bitterness– whatever he wanted really, as long as he stopped looking so fucking miserable.

If Edwin needed to feel sad that’s what he needed. But Charles wasn’t going to let him stay like that for long.

“Because I’m an asshole,” Charles said. He could see Edwin’s face change to confusion, the sadness dropping away just a bit as he did so.

“What?”

“I’m an asshole,” Charles repeated. “I– I didn’t listen to you, I made you feel like you couldn’t come to me about important things.” He shifted, turning so he was fully facing Edwin now, his knee resting against his leg under the blanket. “And I made you think that I didn’t care. But I do. Care. I care a lot. About you, about your competitions. All of it.”

Edwin moved the pizza box off his own lap and back to the coffee table before turning to also face Charles. That faint grimace of pain shot across his face, though it was quickly replaced with something closer to the expression Charles usually associated with Edwin. Something so stubbornly determined he couldn’t help but be happy to see it.

“None of that is true,” Edwin said. Clearly he must have been lying.

Charles reached out, and slid Edwin’s hand into his. Faint crumbs and pizza grease coated his fingers, but Charles didn’t care. It felt so much better than his hand had earlier, far more full of life and warmth after his shower than the cold, clammy hands they had been before.

Was it strange to hold hands with a boy you weren’t dating? Edwin would hardly be the first guy Charles had held hands with, but he was struck with the sudden realization that he might be the one he wanted to be the last.

“It is. And I’m sorry you had to go through everything alone.”

When Crystal had called Charles to ask how Edwin was doing, he’d thought she must be playing an especially cruel prank. Oh, why don’t we ask Charles how Edwin is, even though he hasn’t seen him in over a week.

She hadn’t been, though. She’d thought for sure that Edwin would have broken and asked Charles to come with him to his competition, or at least talked to him. Especially now that she was sick and couldn’t come.

But Charles had told her the truth. That he hadn’t spoken to Edwin in over a week, and the last time he had seen him it felt pretty clear that they were done.

Crystal’s worry had been physical, even through the phone.

“Charles, you don’t understand. This is his first competition since his accident. Someone’s gotta be there!”

As if Charles had intentionally not shown up for his competition. Instead, he had simply been uninformed as to it’s date or location.

“Where is it? I’ll find a way to get there.”

Charles had meant it, too. He would have walked if he could have.

But his competition was four hours away. And there were no buses or trains or even anyone he could bum a ride with heading that way. He’d offered up gear maintenance in return for a ride– deodorizing their gear, cleaning pads, re-lacing skates that needed it, but no one had taken him up.

He’d played through his Friday night game on pins and needles, almost hoping someone would start shit with him so he could get some of that pent up energy out.

The second he left the ice he called Edwin. He’d called him a million and one times before, but now there was a frantic energy to them. He needed to make sure he was alright, that he’d made it through his competition and come out the other side and understood that Charles hadn’t wanted to leave him alone.

That he would have been there in a heartbeat if Edwin had asked. That while he might not have been able to see the second day of his competition due to his own game, he could have at least called him or texted him or fuck emailed him if that’s what he wanted.

Finally, the phone had picked up.

“Edwin, mate, I’m so sorry. Are you okay? I tried to get there, I really did, but I didn’t know it was this week, and then no one would give me a ride and—”

“This is Edwin’s coach. Coach King.”

Something had lodged itself into Charles’s throat. Oh God…

“Is he…” he asked, unsure how to even finish that sentence. Okay? There?

Mad at him?

“We’re going to be heading back to town in about thirty minutes,” Coach King said. “It’ll take us about four hours to get there.”

“Okay,” Charles said. He wasn’t sure if he was being given instructions or not, but Charles was going to show up anyways. He’d be waiting at Edwin’s door just the same.

“Look, I’ve seen the way you’ve been blowing up his phone,” he said, and Charles felt a flicker of embarrassment fan through him before he shut it down. It wasn’t embarrassing to care about Edwin.

Though it was a bit embarrassing that the one time Edwin had actually called him back he’d been out with the very same people that had started this argument in the first place.

“And like I said, I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but he needs someone right now,” he said. And Charles didn’t know if he meant as in ‘right now, in this situation’ or if he meant just in general.

“I’ll do it,” Charles said. Because he didn’t care if it was just for now or in general or for always.

A distinctly uncomfortable look made its way to Edwin’s face. “I was not alone,” he said. Though Charles knew that to be a lie. “And it would hardly be the first time I have done a competition alone, anyhow.”

“Still fucked up. And I’m sorry,” he said.

Edwin pulled his hands out of his, though he made no other move to distance himself from him. “No, I am sorry,” Edwin said, shaking his head. “I should have known insulting your friends was hardly going to go over well. And you’re right, I do not know them like you do.”

Charles grit his teeth together for a moment. This conversation wasn’t about Brad or Hunter. Sure, they might have been the thing to kick off the argument, but it still wasn’t about them, he tried to remind himself.

“Coulda had this conversation a week ago,” Charles said. “If you’d, you know, answered the phone.” There was a faint teasing air to his words as he tried to lighten things up, to let Edwin know that while his words might seem harsh he felt no resentment towards him.

“Ah,” Edwin said and ducked his head. “Right. Well, I also must apologize for that. It’s just– before competitions I–” He took a deep breath, searching for the words. “I felt that all of this would distract me from my competition.”

A distraction. That’s what Charles was.

“Makes sense,” he said, leaning back against the couch, a slight bit further away from Edwin.

“I did not mean to hurt you,” Edwin said, and Charles wasn’t sure if he meant then or now. “It’s only… my focus isn’t what it used to be. And I really do need all of it before competitions.”

Charles said nothing. The TV played on in the quiet room, the cast moving and getting into fights silently on mute. It felt a lot like the inside of Charles’s brain, raging and fighting while forcing himself to stay silent.

He wondered what the inside of Edwin’s brain looked like right now.

“I get it,” Charles said. “We’ve all got our rituals.”

Edwin didn’t seem reassured, though he at least nodded.

“S’that why you gave your phone to your coach?” Charles asked.

Edwin nodded again. “Some of my old coaches insisted on it. I didn’t agree with this, of course. Not then, at least. But now I believe it is useful.”

“What’s useful about it?” Charles asked. He’d never personally found his phone a huge distraction before a game, in fact he often used it to play music to get him pumped and in the zone.

But he had a feeling Edwin did things a little differently than he did.

Edwin shrugged and then winced as the movement jostled him. “It is so easy to fall into the void, you know? To keep looking up the things people are saying, the projections. The odds. Who else is winning or losing other competitions.” His gaze stayed firmly down and averted. “What people are saying about me.”

Charles watched as he twisted the blanket in his lap, nervous little twists and curls oh so similar to the way he sometimes pushed his fists together.

“Guess I’ve never really had to worry about that,” Charles said. He’d known that they operated under different levels of scrutiny when it came to their sports, but it hadn’t truly sunk in how different until now.

Did people report on college hockey? Absolutely. Had there been write ups about how poorly his team was doing, how poorly Charles himself had done? Sure. But Charles had the feeling it wasn’t the same. Especially not when you took into account that Edwin had been doing this since he was a literal child.

It was a different thing to have a whole team you could rely on versus skating alone, too, he imagined.

“Just wish I coulda been there,” Charles said. “I did try, I’ll have you know. But it didn’t work out.”

Edwin shuddered, a full body thing that made Charles wonder if he’d said the wrong thing. “I would not have wanted you to be there,” he said, like a shot straight through Charles’s heart.

“Oh,” he said.

Edwin shook his head. “I only mean that it was… embarrassing. My performance and my reactions to… everything.”

He thought back to how blank and exhausted Edwin had looked in the car, the way he hadn’t seemed to believe that Charles was there at all.

“I’m sure it wasn’t so bad. Either one of them,” he said.

Edwin said nothing. Charles picked his slice back up from the box and put it on a plate for him to eat. He might not be able to fix any of that, but at least he could do this.

“I’m glad you tried to be there.”

The night crawled on, both of them eating silently as they watched the people on TV mime their way through whatever dramatics were going on. At least there were subtitles, though Charles had no clue who anyone was anyways.

“So,” Charles said, breaking the silence. “Is there a schedule for these things?” Edwin raised an eyebrow at him. “Like, is there a way to know in advance when the competitions are or?”

Edwin looked at him, that dull, lifeless expression seemingly gone and replaced with an exhausted but authentic Edwin. “There is…” he said, letting his words trail off.

“Could I… get a schedule?” Charles asked. Quickly, he held his hand up, cutting off Edwin’s protests. “S’okay if not. I just… I don’t wanna miss something else important to you.”

Edwin bit his lip, thinking on it for a moment. “It’s just– I do not want you to feel as though you have to attend,” Edwin said.

Charles could practically see the downward spiral starting again. “No, no. Nothing like that. That’s not why. You came to my games and watched me play. You took care of me after my concussion. It’s not fair you had to do all of yours alone.”

“Ah,” Edwin said, nodding his head. “So that is what this is about.”

Charles felt as if he had missed a step in the conversation. “What’s what about?” he asked.

“Settling a score. Making it even,” Edwin said.

Charles resisted the urge to groan or snap at Edwin. None of that would fix this, and everything felt as though it were so precarious right now Charles didn’t want to rock the boat.

“That’s not what this is.” Once again, he turned towards Edwin, though he held back on reaching for his hand. “I want to be there for you. Because you’re my friend, and I care about you. Not just because you were there for me.”

His words settled around them slowly.

“You are also my friend,” Edwin said, though there was something almost sad about the way he said it. “And I care for you, too, Charles.”

Something fluttered inside Charles’s chest and up to his throat, though he smothered it by having another slice of pizza.

The third time Edwin’s head dipped down to his chest, clearly nodding off on his spot on the couch, Charles resigned himself to the fact that they would have to call it a night. It was late, far too late for either one of them to still be up after everything that had happened, but he still didn’t want to go to sleep.

And neither, it would seem, did Edwin.

“We haven’t even finished our dinner,” Edwin said, gesturing to the cold pizza left out.

“I don’t think either one of us has much of an appetite.”

Edwin sighed. It took some doing, but eventually he managed to climb his way to his feet, with the assistance of Charles.

The stairs were still an obstacle. While Edwin was more aware of his surroundings than he had been before, it would seem his body had given up the ghost of moving long ago.

“Gonna have to get wider stairs if you want to be carried,” Charles joked.

“I do not wish to be carried,” Edwin said.

“Oh, yeah? Coulda fooled me,” he said with a smile. He took even more of Edwin’s weight, practically hauling him up the stairs, though he took great pains to make sure he didn’t hurt him anymore in the process.

There had to be an easier way to do this, but if there was neither one of them knew it.

Edwin’s weight was warm down Charles’s side, a solid, moving, living, breathing force he hadn’t realized he’d missed so much until it was gone. It’s not as though he or Edwin were especially close physically on a regular basis, but they sat next to each other often enough.

The photobooth came to his mind. Crystal’s couch. Lying in the rocks and mud under the playground swings.

The kiss on his cheek from Edwin after their “not-date.”

Edwin directed him down the hall, past the bathroom, and into a room that could only have been Edwin’s.

It still was decorated oddly, more like a magazine than a living person’s room, though there were signs of Edwin everywhere. A few pictures of him and Crystal as kids, pictures of him and Simon at a rink that did not look like Crystal’s, a stack of books that Charles knew had nothing to do with college– some for a young child like Nancy Drew or Hardy Boys, while others were aimed higher, though he was less familiar with those.

A small pile of clothes was tossed next to a laundry hamper where he must have been too tired to put them away properly. Papers and textbooks were strewn about his desk, the tell-tale signs that Edwin must do a lot of studying there.

The only light came from a lamp on the bedside table, soft and warm in a room that otherwise almost looked straight out of a catalog.

Edwin let go of Charles’s shoulder and tried to gently sit down on the bed. Tried being the operative word, because really what he did was closer to a guided fall than a sit. He groaned as he hit the bed, a pain filled thing that set all of Charles on edge.

He curled in, one hand going to his back while the other reached for this leg. His eyes were screwed shut in pain as he seemed to try and disappear into the soft mattress.

“Edwin?” he asked, his hands hovering over him. He wanted to reach out and do something, hold him, reassure him, fix whatever might be wrong with him, but Charles didn’t know how. He didn’t know what was wrong and he was afraid the wrong thing might hurt Edwin even worse.

“It’s fine,” he said, through gritted teeth. At least his voice wasn’t weak like before.

“No, it’s not,” Charles said, sinking down to be on his eye level. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

Edwin reached out a hand and grabbed Charles’s and squeezed with all his might. Charles’s hand protested, but he didn’t move away. If that’s what Edwin needed, then that's what he’d get.

“Nothing is wrong,” Edwin said, after it seemed as though the wave of pain had lessened. “Simply the same issues I always have.”

But Charles didn’t know what those issues were. After seeing the scars on his legs, he knew that it could have been nothing good, but that didn’t explain anything.

“Can I do anything?” Charles asked.

Edwin seemed to consider this for a moment. “Heat sometimes works,” he said, and Charles thought of his scalded red skin after his shower. “I have a couple of heating pads in the drawer.”

Charles didn’t even wait for permission before he reached over and flung open the drawer. “These?” he asked, holding the two up for inspection.

Edwin nodded, and Charles set about getting them plugged in and turned on. He handed the control to Edwin, who quickly set it to whatever he wanted while Charles helped him move to place them on his body.

One of them went on his back, straight down where his spine was. The other Edwin insisted on wrapping around his leg, making sure it covered his knee and the meatier part of his leg.

“Is it, like, muscle cramps?” Charles asked. He tried not to watch Edwin too closely, not wanting him to feel as though he were an animal on display at the zoo.

“Something like that,” Edwin said, as he laid back down.

“You need a banana. And pickle juice,” Charles said.

Edwin blinked at him. “What?”

“For muscle cramps!” Charles said, smiling, though he didn’t feel it. “They’re great for cramps.”

There was a pause before Edwin snorted, which quickly turned into a laugh. Charles had almost forgotten how much he had missed Edwin’s laugh. It was still tinged with pain, but it was a real, honest, laugh.

“That sounds disgusting,” Edwin said.

“Well, you’re not supposed to eat it together, now are you?” Charles asked. “Though, it would blend well into a smoothie.”

Edwin furrowed his brows, like he wanted to frown despite the amusement he clearly felt. “I repeat. Disgusting.”

Charles was on a roll now. “Nah. S’just pickle and banana. I’ve seen weirder combos in the caf.”

“I hardly think drunk or high students at Yockey University are the pinnacle of culinary combinations,” Edwin said.

“Oi, no one said anything about being drunk or high.”

“Sorry, I assumed they were if they were combining worse things than that together in the public cafeteria,” Edwin said, which made Charles grin like an idiot.

“I’ll bring you some,” Charles joked, almost like a threat.

“Please don’t,” Edwin said.

The silliness faded when Edwin shifted, his breath catching as he tried to find a more comfortable position.

“Seriously, though. Is there anything I can do?” Charles asked. Because there had to be something. He couldn’t just sit there while Edwin was in pain.

“No,” Edwin said sadly. “But sleep does help. Sometimes.”

Charles mentally noted that down. Hot showers. Sleep. No pickle-juice-banana smoothies.

“Better get to sleep then, mate,” Charles said. He moved, planning on heading down to the couch downstairs, when Edwin grabbed his wrist.

He seemed to hesitate for a moment, caught up on what he might want to say. “I– that is, you don’t have to leave.” Charles raised an eyebrow at him, and Edwin quickly backpedaled. “That is, you do not have to go home. You could stay. Here. Stay here in the spare room, well, my father’s room really, but he’s never here. Well, he’s almost never here. He’s not here now–”

Charles held up a hand to cut off Edwin’s almost babble. “Chill, Edwin. I got it,” he said. He glanced back at the bedroom door and back down at where they were joined at the wrist. “What if I just stay here?” he asked, gesturing to the space next to the bed on the floor.

“That seems… Uncomfortable,” he said.

Charles made a show of patting the rug. “Nah, s’good, mate. Got pillows and blankets downstairs, I’m set.”

Edwin still seemed hesitant. “Charles, you are twenty-one years old. You cannot sleep on the floor.”

“Oi,” Charles said, flicking his hand, the one place he knew for a fact Edwin didn’t hurt. “Don’t say that. You make me sound ancient or something. ‘Sides, twenty-one is exactly the age to be sleeping on the floor. Plenty of parties end with you that way.”

Edwin wrinkled his nose. “No parties I have ever been to,” he said.

“Well, we’ll have to change that, won’t we?” he asked, unable to hold back the bit of flirting tone he had.

Edwin, for his part, only rolled his eyes.

“Seriously, Eds, I’m fine,” he said, ignoring the way Edwin mouthed Eds? in confusion. “I’ll just be right back.”

Downstairs, he disposed of their trash and put away their dishes before turning to the couch. He gathered up a few of the blankets and pillows, thankful that Edwin’s family seemed to favor comfy, soft furniture over the stiff and rigid ones a lot of rich people went for. Once Edwin was asleep, he could always pop back on down here if he needed to.

Edwin already seemed to be drifting off to sleep when he came back in. He smiled as he spread out his blankets, preparing to make himself a nice, cozy little spot for the night.

“S’lmost like when you’re a kid at a sleepover,” Charles said, grinning.

Edwin tilted his head, crinkling the pillow underneath him. “I was never really invited to those,” he said.

Charles frowned as he thought back to his dad, who had never really allowed him to have any friends to sleep over. Not that Charles would have wanted them too, far too embarrassed or scared his dad would do something and ruin everything.

“They can be fun. Usually ends in one kid going home early, crying,” Charles said.

“Why?”

Charles shrugged. “Kids can be mean? They miss home? Any reason, really,” he said. Not that Charles had ever gone home early. If he’d actually managed to make it to one of his friend’s sleepovers, he was usually finding a way to delay going home.

“Sounds like a blast,” Edwin said, and there was something so funny about Edwin deadpanning the word ‘blast’ that sent Charles into a fit of what could only be described as ‘giggles.’ It wasn’t manly or attractive by any means, but it happened, nonetheless.

“And those are the sleepover sillies,” Charles said, wiping his eyes.

“What the hell are the sleepover sillies?” Edwin asked.

“Where everything’s funny and you can’t stop laughing,” Charles said.

Edwin tilted his head again, just barely visible over the edge of the bed. “I think that’s called sleep deprivation,” Edwin said.

Charles couldn’t stop smiling. “Nah, sleepover sillies. It’s a thing. Niko told me. She’s like an expert on sleepovers.”

A faintly fond smile. “Well, I guess if the expert on sleepovers says it, it must be true.”

Edwin’s expression was soft, the lines of pain finally seeming to ease up just the slightest bit for him to look more peaceful, more like the Edwin who had slept next to him on Crystal’s couch than the Edwin who had exited the backseat like a zombie earlier.

“Go to sleep,” Charles said. “I’ll be here.”

Though what good that information would do for Edwin, Charles didn’t know. It simply seemed like the right thing to say at the moment.

And it must have been, because Edwin seemed to immediately drop off into sleep after that, the last of his pain seeming to fade away as he drifted off.

XXX

It was still dark the next time Charles woke up, dazed and confused about where in the world he could possibly be. He shifted, his head banging against the bedside table despite the pillows he’d put in place, and his ears searching for a sound he knew he heard but couldn’t remember.

He waited a moment, testing the silence. Blue light filtered in through Edwin’s window, long shadows stretching their way across the room in odd shapes and patterns around his curtains. What had he heard?

There it was again, some soft, barely there noise that had Charles springing up to his feet, his arms ready. Because it was someone in pain, someone crying.

No, not just someone. Edwin.

“Edwin?” he asked, squinting into the dark.

The lump on the bed shifted as Edwin rolled over. The heating pads had long since turned off and moved to the side, and the pain that had finally left his face seemed to be back. He didn’t seem to be fully awake, however, which only concerned Charles more.

“Edwin,” Charles said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. He pulled the blanket back, trying to get it clear of his face. Edwin let it go, far too focused on reaching for his back or his leg.

“Don’t, hey, Edwin. Listen to me,” he said, grabbing on to Edwin’s hands.

Edwin let out a gasp as his eyes flew open, quickly finding Charles’s even in the dark. His hands were shaking, almost too strong for Charles to hold on to, but he did anyway, not wanting him to do something stupid and hurt himself.

“I– where?” Edwin asked, looking around. “There was blood and I…” Slowly, he pulled one of his hands away from Charles’s, his fingers sinking into his brown hair, searching. “I thought I…”

“Just a dream,” Charles reassured him. He moved to get the heating pads back in place, desperate to get that look off Edwin’s face. “Do you have anything you can take for pain?” Charles asked. He wished he’d asked him that before he’d fallen asleep. That should have been the number one thing after food.

Edwin still seemed confused but shook his head. “Nothing? Ibuprofen, Advil, nothing?” Charles was already nearly to his feet and to the door, ready to search Edwin’s medicine cabinet for anything he might be able to use. Maybe he hadn’t understood the question.

“No,” Edwin said.

“Jesus,” Charles muttered under his breath. “How can you not?” What time was it? Was there anywhere open he could go and get some? If they’d been in his room he’d have at least a couple of things he could offer to help him. Mentally Charles was planning his route to the nearest store when Edwin’s voice reached him.

“The heating pads usually work,” Edwin said through gritted teeth.

Charles turned back to him. “And what about when they don’t?” he asked.

Edwin stared up at him, his eyes somehow even more tired than they had been when he’d gone to sleep. He said nothing, just looked at Charles.

“What do you do when they don’t? When showering, sleep, and heating pads don’t help?” he asked.

“Baths,” Edwin said, which Charles felt like was just another form of showering. “Um.” He seemed to genuinely be searching for anything else.

Charles moved back to Edwin. “Anything? Ice, ointments, painkillers, massages?” He knelt next to the bed; his knees resting on the blankets and pillows he’d flung off himself in his haste to get to Edwin. As if moving back to him might make him think of any other way he could help.

It seemed to do the opposite. Charles could practically see the way Edwin’s brain shut even further down, though his pain didn’t seem to be getting worse.

“Um. Ice sometimes helps. Sometimes it makes it worse,” Edwin said. “As for ointments, I believe I am all out. I used the last of it after day one of the competition.”

Charles tried not to imagine Edwin alone and smearing IcyHot or Tiger’s Balm or whatever else without any help. Or even worse, with Simon to help.

Nope, Charles was not going to open that can of worms right now.

Charles nodded, trying to go through that information one at a time. “So no ice,” he said. “What about ibuprofen? Advil? Anything like that?” he asked. He’d never seen any in Edwin’s bag before, though he assumed he must have some at home.

“I do not really use them.”

“What?” Charles asked.

“One of my old coaches did not approve of it. Or any medications for that matter.”

Charles froze. He was going to put his fist through a wall. And then through someone’s face. And then another wall just to feel something.

“What the fuck does that mean, Edwin? It’s not like it’s hard drugs, Jesus!”

Edwin let out an unsure noise. “Coach Sa’al said he didn’t allow his skaters to use any form of medication. Besides, it does not matter. They hardly work as it is.”

Charles stared at Edwin and for the first time wondered if he was the one who’s suffered a concussion recently. “You hear how insane that sounds, right?” he asked. Did he fucking hit his head at this competition and King forget to tell him? “And it matters if it helps at all!”

“But it doesn’t. Not really, anyways.” Edwin blinked as he seemed to think over his words. “And overuse can damage your body.”

“Sure, but I’m not asking you to overuse. I’m asking you to use it,” he said. “Like any medication?” he tried to clarify, hung up on that in ways he couldn’t begin to describe. How long had Edwin listened to this garbage? When did he even have this coach?

“Bullshit,” Charles snapped. “That’s bull-fucking-shit and you know it. You don’t skate better when you’re in pain or sick or–God that’s fucked up. The guy just wanted to torture you.” He balled his hand into a fist, just wishing he could get his hands on this coach. “I hope you kicked him to the curb for that shit.”

“He actually dropped me. Or, at least I was traded to another coach under his management,” Edwin said. “Besides, if I used it every time I was in pain, that would be overusing it.”

Charles took a steadying breath, trying to bring some sort of calm that he didn’t actually feel to himself. He ran a hand over his face and let out a puff of air as he did so. “Jesus, that’s not the point, Edwin,” he said. “I’m just gonna… I’ll be right back.”

“Where are you going?” Edwin asked, sitting up to follow Charles as he tried to stand up from the bed.

“To get you something, won’t even take me five minutes,” Charles said. Because if he ran, it likely wouldn’t.

Edwin’s hand darted out, catching Charles’s wrist before he could make it very far. Immediately, Charles froze, turning around to look back at Edwin.

“Stay?” he asked. “The heating pads are already helping. Please.”

Charles wanted to argue with him. That it was insane for him to not even use something like ibuprofen when his pain was so bad he nearly broke Charles’s hand squeezing it for distraction. And that he couldn’t believe Edwin skated the way he did and apparently never did anything other than baths or heating pads for it.

Charles closed his eyes and tilted his head back, and he knew his answer before he even had time to think about it. There was no way he could leave Edwin. Not when he was in pain, not when he was asking him to stay.

Edwin had asked him to stay. Edwin had asked Charles to stay.

“Fine,” Charles said, sitting back down on the bed next to Edwin. “But can I at least try something? And if that doesn’t help, then I am going.”

Edwin gave him a resigned look before he scooted further back on the bed, giving Charles a bit more room to sit. He smiled, trying to project a bit more confidence than he had, and glanced down at Edwin’s blanket and heating pad covered leg.

“Do you mind if I…?” he trailed off, holding his hands over Edwin’s leg. If Edwin didn’t want him to touch him, he’d pull his hand back in an instant.

Even in the low morning light, Charles could see Edwin nervously swallow. “I suppose not…”

Not wanting to drag this out any further, Charles reached down and fully pulled the blanket away from Edwin, who let it go without any protest. The leg that seemed to be bothering him the most was tucked up next to him, preventing Charles from actually being able to get to much of it.

“Can you lay on your back? Or will that hurt too much?” Charles asked.

Edwin eased himself onto his back, not answering Charles’s question. At least it didn’t seem to hurt much more than it had before, though Charles hated that it hurt him at all.

Charles wasn’t a professional, but he’d hurt himself enough (and his father had done the rest) to know how to work a sore muscle. If that’s what this even was. Again, he thought about Edwin’s scars, and the way he had limped down the hallway earlier.

The way he favored his leg after a long night of skating. The way he sat ramrod straight, but almost like it pained him to do so.

He ran his hand over Edwin’s leg, testing to see if he would pull back. He didn’t, though, he did lean his head back against his pillow and close his eyes, almost as if he were shutting out that this was even happening.

His sweatpants were warm from the heating pad and body heat, and Charles wondered how he wasn’t sweating to death. “Does that hurt?” he asked.

Edwin shook his head, though his body was still stiff. “I cannot feel it.”

“Can’t feel it in a good way, or can’t feel it in a bad way?” Charles asked, trying not to let his nervous energy peak through.

Edwin was silent for a moment as he assessed. “Uncertain.”

Charles applied just a bit more pressure to his leg. In his head– and he was almost positive it was in his head; he could feel Edwin’s scars even through the material separating them.

“What about now?” he asked, only to receive a vague sort of head bob from him. “Gonna need words here, Edwin.”

“That I can feel,” he said through gritted teeth.

“And does it… hurt?” he asked. “Like, I know your leg hurts, but is this making it feel worse?”

Edwin made a strange noise. “It would be difficult to make it worse.”

“Just checkin’,” Charles said, “Don’t wanna hurt ya.”

Edwin’s eyes opened, just a sliver. “Charles, I don’t think you would ever hurt me on purpose.”

It felt as though Charles had been kicked in the chest, his heart rate jumping up far quicker than he had ever experienced in his life. He could have run a million marathons and never felt like this before.

All he wanted was for people to think he was safe. That the people he cared about thought he was a safe person to be around. And if Edwin– prickly, snarky, on-edge Edwin– thought he was then he must have been doing something right.

“Cheers, mate,” he said, ducking his head back down to focus on Edwin’s leg.

Charles did as he’d seen his own coaches and trainers do before and worked at the sore muscle. Slowly, ever so slowly, he could see the lines of pain around Edwin’s eyes ease until he almost looked ready to sleep again.

Charles tucked the heating pad back around his leg and leaned over him, trying to check on him in the low light.

“Better?” he asked.

“Hmm,” Edwin said, which Charles could only take for a rather sleepy yes.

Already Charles was starting a list of things he needed to make sure Edwin got. More ointments, medicine, more ready to eat food in his kitchen…

He pulled back slightly, taken aback for a moment. When had he become so entangled in what Edwin needed? Hadn’t they been fighting and not even speaking to each other less than twenty-four hours ago? Though Charles figured it was really only Edwin not speaking to him, and that they had sort of cleared up that whole issue as it was.

“You able to go back to sleep?” Charles asked, though it was obvious he was barely hanging on as it was.

In response, Edwin turned towards Charles, nestling his face down against his leg. Charles held so still he might as well have been a statue.

“Edwin?” he asked.

Edwin let out a quiet questioning noise, though he gave no sign of moving away. In fact, if anything, he seemed to sink in further. What was Charles supposed to do with that?

“Can’t sleep here, now can I?” Charles asked, though he didn’t think he’d be able to sleep anytime soon anyways.

“You’re correct,” Edwin said. “I will get up in a moment.”

Like hell he was. Even if Edwin had been more awake, there was no way Charles was letting him move. Not when they’d seemed to finally get some of his pain under control again. Charles was practically living in fear that he would shift wrong and somehow manage to hurt him.

The bed was soft, but not so soft that Charles felt like he was going to be absorbed by it. He didn’t want to move away, not when Edwin was finally drifting off again and everything seemed so soft, the blue light diffusing the edges of reality around them.

But he couldn’t stay like this, sitting up on the bed next to him. He would have to move at some point, he figured, even if he wasn’t tired yet.

He settled for something in between. Slowly, he shifted so his back was against the headboard, his legs stretched out alongside Edwin’s body. Edwin, for his part, kept his sore leg pulled in just the slightest bit, while the rest of him spread out to his full height.

Charles smiled as he pulled out his phone. Grinning to himself, he snapped a picture, knowing that Edwin would likely get all fussy about it later when he found out, just like he had about Niko taking pictures of them on the couch.

Gently, he ran his hand through Edwin’s still damp hair. Charles’s mum used to tell him he’d get sick if he went to bed with wet hair, and while Charles didn’t think that was true, he could admit that his curls always looked better if he dried them before bed.

His eyes roamed around the room, pausing on the photos of a younger Edwin and Crystal hanging not too far from him. They looked so young, Edwin was even missing a tooth in one of them.

It was hard to believe that Edwin had already been competing at that age. His own mum would have never let him do that. She’d liked that hockey was a team sport, but even that had been a slightly harder sell for her than some other ones.

His dad had been the one to swing that for him, and Charles hated that he had to be grateful to him for that.

Still, he couldn’t imagine the amount of stress Edwin had been under then. And now, if he were honest.

He shifted his hand to the nape of Edwin’s neck and tried to pretend like he wasn’t tired. Going back to sleep wasn’t an option, not while there was still a chance Edwin might wake up in pain again. Or when the sounds of his pained whimpers were ringing in his ears in the quiet room.

But it didn’t matter. Because Charles was here now, and Edwin was never going to have to go through any of that alone again. Not as long as he wanted Charles around.

Charles only hoped that he wanted to keep him around for a long time.

Notes:

A bit of a slower chapter, but I figured these two deserved it lol!
Thank you for reading! <3

Chapter 19: I Wish You'd Get Here, Kiss My Face/ I Run My Fingers Through Your Hair And Watch The Lights Go Wild

Notes:

A song two-fer this week for paraph's birthday chapter!

 

"If you saw my tears, would you touch me?
Kiss me on the mouth, say you love me?
Leave a message, tell me you're sorry
Hit me right back, hit me right back
Why you treatin' me like
somebody that you never loved?
I only threw this party for you,"
- party 4 u by Charli xcx

 

"Get me with those green eyes, baby,
as the lights go down,
give me something that'll haunt me when you're not around,
'cause I see sparks fly whenever you smile,"
- Sparks Fly by Taylor Swift

Saturday morning rolled around in a slow, sleepy daze of warm sun and a sense of peace Charles hadn’t felt in a while. His neck was sore from the angle he’d fallen asleep at, leaned up against the headboard with his own head leaned over towards his shoulder while he stretched out his legs next to Edwin.

He could tell he hadn’t been asleep long, maybe an hour at most, but he didn’t think he’d be able to sleep much longer. Not cramped up at this angle, no matter how close he wanted to stay to Edwin.

And he did want to stay there. Edwin seemed to be finally deep asleep, the overwhelming exhaustion and pain that had haunted him for so long finally seeming to dull a bit with his rest. Charles worried that his moving around would wake him up, but it seemed as if he had no problem sleeping through it. He was almost sure a siren could have gone off next to him, and Edwin would have been none the wiser.

He shifted, doing his best to minimize his movements and exit the bed as smoothly as possible. Edwin, for his part, only buried his face further into his pillow and continued to sleep.

A faint buzzing sound reached Charles’s ears. It took far too long for him to realize it was a phone vibrating facedown on the floor.

Edwin’s phone.

It must have buzzed itself right off the bedside table at some point in the night, though Charles couldn’t remember when. He picked it up and gently set a hand on Edwin’s shoulder.

“Mate,” he whispered. “Your phone’s ringing.”

Edwin groaned and brushed at Charles’s arm, as if the weak little kitten-like bats might somehow be enough to send him away. He mumbled something, his face pressed into his pillow and completely unintelligible.

Charles turned his phone over and checked the screen. Crystal. “It’s Crystal,” he said, which only earned him something that might have been “she’ll call back” or utter gibberish.

“I’ll just tell her you’re sleeping, yeah?” he asked. Edwin gave a faint noise of what Charles hoped was an approval as he took Edwin’s phone into the hallway to answer it.

“Oh, thank fucking God,” Crystal said. “Do you know how long I’ve been calling you for?”

“Hey, Crystal,” Charles said, “It’s Charles. Edwin’s asleep right now.”

There was a moment of silence on the other end before she continued. “But he’s okay, right? He’s just asleep?”

Charles thought back to how Edwin had nearly broken down the night before, his pain and everything else so evident in every move he had made. The scars on his legs that Charles had never seen before. The way he had begged Charles to just stay with him.

“I think so?” he asked. Because all of the big problems seemed to have passed, at least for now. Charles had his questions that he really wanted Edwin to answer, and his own standards for what he saw as “okay,” but that didn’t mean he wasn’t leagues ahead of where he had started out the night. “Sorry I didn’t call you back last night. Things were… a lot.”

He could hear her sigh on the other end of the line. “Yeah, that’s fair. I should’ve warned you things can get a little crazy around competition season.”

Charles wasn’t sure that even if Crystal had warned him that he would have understood. At least not the severity of it.

He should have guessed though, really. He saw how hard Edwin trained normally; he should have assumed that he would be a little extra crazy when it came to an actual competition.

“Nah, it’s all good. Shoulda known, really,” he said.

“Ugh,” Crystal said, a long, drawn-out thing. “I just wish I could have been there.”

Charles knew how she felt.

“Well, we’re here now. And believe me, he’s sleeping like a log,” he said.

She snorted. “That makes me feel better. Sometimes he crashes and sometimes he’s up for days,” she said.

Charles had no clue how the Edwin he saw last night could have possibly mustered enough energy to even stay awake to make it up the stairs alone.

“Well, he’s definitely crashed now,” Charles said. He leaned around the doorframe, glancing back into the room, and was unsurprised to see Edwin still fast asleep.

“So, you spent the night there?” Crystal asked. “Or did you come back this morning?” There was a question under her words, but Charles wasn’t exactly sure what she was trying to ask with it.

“Yeah, I did,” he said. “It was late when he got home, and so much later by the time I finally got him to sleep.”

“Like a toddler without a nap,” Crystal joked, though it wasn’t far off in Charles’s limited experience.

“Crystal,” Charles said, weighing his next words carefully. He leaned back into the hallway, making sure to drop his voice a few levels until it was hardly above a whisper. “I had a question.”

“Okay?” she asked, drawing out the word. Charles could practically see her raising an eyebrow at his behavior.

“How did– no. I mean… what happened?” he asked. “To Edwin.”

It took so long for Crystal to answer him he was sure she had hung up on him. “What do you mean?” she asked, as if there could be anything else he was referring to.

“I saw the scars on his legs,” he said in a rush. “It wasn’t on purpose, I didn’t mean to. But I saw them, and they looked… bad. Like, properly, actually bad.” All of this seemed like the understatement of the century.

She let out a breath, less a sigh and more like someone had forced the air from her lungs. “Does he know you… saw them?” she asked.

Charles shrugged as if she could see him. “Doubt it. But like I said, I saw them, and I saw how they seemed to hurt him. And did you know that he doesn’t take pain meds? Crystal, this… this is a lot,” he said, using the same words he had earlier. “Like, bad a lot.”

“Listen, Charles. I like you. A lot. And I know Edwin likes you even more. Which is why I’m not gonna say shit, okay? You want answers about all of this, you can ask him. Or better yet, don’t. He’ll tell you when he’s ready,” she said.

Charles doubted that. “But I–”

“No,” she said. One word. It hung in the air between them, as if the tension had somehow jumped from phone to phone. “Edwin and I might not have the best boundaries, but this is one.”

Charles shut his mouth. There really was nothing else to do if she wasn’t going to tell him. He could respect the dedication and loyalty Crystal was showing, too, even if it meant leaving him in the dark.

Because he couldn’t ask Edwin about it. Not now. Not when Charles had seen the way he’d broken down the night before over everything. For now, he was going to focus on the positive and try to keep Edwin’s spirits up. If Edwin wanted to talk about these things, Charles would be more than willing to listen, but he wasn’t going to push.

“I get it. Is there anything else I need to know?” he asked with a sigh. “Maybe get me an Edwin manual?” he joked.

“You’re gonna have to be the one to write that manual,” Crystal said lightly. “It’s fine, Charles. Seriously. I’m sure you’re doing great, otherwise Edwin probably would have kicked you out.”

What a vote of confidence that was.

“Thanks,” he said, and at least halfway meant it.

Without knowing what else to do, Charles busied himself straightening up the mess he’d made of Edwin’s floor. He carried the blankets and pillows back downstairs, tossed them on a chair, and then folded them when that looked too messy.

It was worse than waking up early at a sleepover. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was supposed to do now. He wasn’t going to just leave, that felt wrong, and he didn’t really want to leave Edwin alone. But he also didn’t want to hover around if he wasn’t wanted.

“Mate,” Charles whispered, not wanting to startle him. “I’m gonna go get us some breakfast.”

Edwin groaned again and rolled over, facing his nightstand. Charles was sure this was his way of ignoring him, trying to shut him up, but then he rolled back over with his wallet in his hand.

“My treat,” he said. He waved it a bit when Charles didn’t immediately take it.

“Ed–”

“You bought dinner,” Edwin said. “I can buy breakfast.”

Charles supposed that was fair.

It didn’t take long for him to run out to one of the local places and get something. While his breakfast options leaned on the healthier side, he asked the worker for their sweetest, most sugar filled coffee, just on the off chance that Edwin might be more committed to waking up than he seemed.

By the time he got back, Edwin had at least moved himself down onto the couch in a semi-coherent fashion. He smiled– a little awkwardly, Charles could tell, but it was a real smile all the same.

“What even is this?” Edwin asked, taking his drink.

“Sugar in a cup.”

“Delicious.”

Charles wasn’t so sure about that, but if it made Edwin happy then it made him happy. “Whatcha watching?”

“Some detective show. I have no clue, I picked it randomly,” he said.

Charles thought back to the Nancy Drew and Hardy Boys books upstairs. “You a fan of mysteries?” he asked.

Edwin nodded, sipping his coffee. “Indeed. I love watching them and trying to puzzle out the mystery as they go,” he said. “That is what makes a good mystery, by the way. If you can actually solve it with the detectives.”

Charles shrugged. “Never much mattered if I could solve it. Not really the expert, ya know?”

“You are still supposed to be able to,” Edwin said, almost petulantly like a child.

“What if I solve it on a repeat watch?” Charles asked.

“That does not count.”

“Sure it does. I solved it.”

“No, you remembered the outcome. That is not the same thing as solving the case,” Edwin said.

Charles grinned, enjoying winding Edwin up. He’d missed this. This version of Edwin who he could poke and prod and just generally pester. “What if they remembered it? What if it’s like a case of time travel or a psychic or something?”

“That is an entirely different genre.”

“Oh, so they can’t have mysteries in sci-fi? Or… psychic-ness?”

Edwin gave him the most deadpanned look Charles had ever experienced. “Oh. I get it.”

“Get what?” Charles asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

“You are being stupid on purpose,” he said, barely holding back a smile.

Charles spread out his arms, gesturing to all of himself. “Got me, Eds. I love being stupid on purpose.”

“Better than being stupid by accident, I suppose,” Edwin said.

Charles leaned back, stretching his arm out over the back of the couch. He tried not to make it so obvious that his arm was around the top of Edwin now, or that his hand was hovering just over his shoulder. It would be so easy to just drop it down around him, to scoot just a little bit closer to Edwin on the couch.

Would it be weird? He certainly wouldn’t do it with Brad or Hunter or really any of the guys on the hockey team, but then again, he didn’t really see Edwin like any of the guys on the team. Edwin was in a league of his own, as far as Charles was concerned.

“So, what’ve you got planned for today?” Charles asked, trying to distract himself from the conundrum brewing in his mind.

“Um. Nothing? I suppose I should work on some of my homework assignments, but sadly, I feel as though my concentration is… lacking,” he said, glancing at Charles from the corner of his eye.

Charles didn’t know if that was a good thing or not. Like, Charles was so attractive Edwin was distracted or so annoying he was being distracted. It was possible it had nothing to do with Charles, either, and that Edwin was just properly tired and knew he’d be unable to focus on anything.

“So, no plans,” Charles said. “A nice, lazy day ahead.” He tried to think of how he could ask the question that was really on his mind, if there was a way that Edwin might want to spend it together with him, but it would seem as though Edwin got there first.

“Yes, it seems as though we were owed one,” Edwin said, lightly. “That is, unless you had other plans?”

Charles could feel his grin spread across his face. “Nah, no plans! Whole day free, really. Whole plan was to try and get a hold of you and maybe catch up on some sleep.”

Because Charles hated to admit it, but his sleep schedule had sucked somehow even more since he and Edwin had started fighting.

“‘Get a hold of me,’ hm?” Edwin asked, quotation marks bracketing his words. “What do you intend to do now that you have?”

All thoughts went out the window. Every single one of his thoughts dove straight out the window and died in a fiery explosion. He knew how Edwin meant it, but now that he’d said it like that there was no way Charles could interpret it any different.

Never let him go? Beg him to stay? Beg him to let Charles stay?

“Whatever you wanna do,” Charles answered finally, sure that was the only acceptable answer he could give.

Edwin thought for a moment. “And what if all I want to do is sit here and watch detective shows all day,” he asked.

Charles pretended to think about it. “That depends. You gonna stay awake for it, or pass out twenty minutes in? And is it only detective shows or are we adding in some reality TV?”

“Uncertain,” Edwin said, also leaning back further until Charles’s arm was grazing the back of his neck. “The day is so young, after all.”

His arm crept a bit further down, just a hair away from deniability. “Guess it is, mate,” he said.

And that was all there was to that.

XXX

The rest of the weekend moved by slowly. Eventually Charles had to go home, if only so he could change, but he and Edwin stayed on the phone almost the entire rest of the night. And while both of them spent Sunday studying, they did it together at the coffee shop on campus.

Edwin still moved stiffly, not so much as if he were hurt, but more fearing that he would again. Charles made sure to leave him some pain meds with a note that instructed him to take them if he needed it.

Though Edwin denied needing it, and by Monday Charles figured it was a moot point anyways. Either his pain would fade or there was every chance in the world that his coach would get onto him for it.

He smiled as Edwin stomped over to him, their regular table already staked out in the coffeeshop. Mondays were busy, but Charles had been determined to get there and hold their spot.

Edwin set his things down and ripped off his coat with more force than Charles thought necessary.

“Everything all right?” he asked.

“No,” Edwin said. Then, as if realizing he had snapped at Charles, he continued. “Coach King said I cannot return to full practice this week.”

Charles blinked. It hadn’t really occurred to him that that had even been an option. Not with how… not okay Edwin had been on Friday night. Some practice, sure, that made sense. But a full one?

“Did he let you watch your footage?” Charles asked, wisely avoiding that issue.

Edwin sighed as he tapped his fingers on the tabletop. “Yes.” His foot bounced under the table, a nervous energy that Charles was starting to become familiar with.

“Gonna need more than one-word answers here, Edwin, ‘m’not a mind reader,” he said.

Edwin sighed, the most dramatic, all consuming sigh Charles had ever heard in his entire life, and Charles had to fight down how much he adored it.

“It was fine. Not my greatest showing, but I am sure no one is surprised by that,” Edwin said.

“Was that what Coach King said?” he asked. He didn’t strike him as the type, but Edwin apparently had had some shitty coaches in the past, so he tried to reserve judgement until he had seen more from him.

Edwin rolled his eyes. “No. Of course not,” he said.

It hurt that Edwin couldn’t see how great of a skater he was. Charles, though he had never seen actual proof of it, was sure that Edwin had been better before his accident, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t amazing at it now. He didn’t know what he would need to do to get that across to him one day, but he’d have to keep trying.

“Then I bet you did great! No need for all that ‘not my greatest’ bit or whatever,” he said.

He balled his hand into a fist, and Charles could see the storm clouds brewing behind his eyes. “I was so sure that he would see reason and let me practice,” Edwin said.

“He is. You said he’s letting you, just not fully. What all is he saying no to?” he asked.

Edwin huffed. “It hardly matters. There are just some things that I had hoped to work on this week, and now it is being delayed again.”

Charles nodded. “What if you used this week to focus on something else?”

“My schoolwork has been suffering,” Edwin said.

“No, no, no. Not schoolwork. Something fun, something that you wouldn’t normally do,” he said. “You’re in college, Edwin, it wouldn’t kill you to do something fun.”

“I do fun things. I do fun things all the time!” Edwin said, his voice almost scandalized that Charles didn’t think over practicing himself to death or studying was fun.

“Like what?”

“We spent the whole day watching TV shows the other day,” Edwin said. “Was that not fun?”

It was, because as Charles had already realized everything was fun with Edwin. “That is, like, the bare minimum,” Charles said.

“Bare minimum,” Edwin mocked. “So, you did not have fun?” There was that little, underlying tone that betrayed Edwin’s worry.

“Course I did, mate, watching you try and outsolve those detectives was a lot of fun. Y’know, when you were awake,” he said, leaning over and tapping Edwin on the arm to make sure he knew he was teasing him. “But seriously. Is there anything I can do?”

Edwin turned and watched the people walk by outside. The wind whipped people’s hair and coats around them while leaves raced across the sidewalk. It would be Halloween soon, with costumes and pumpkins and trick-or-treaters. The coffeeshop smelled like caramel and pumpkin spice, and Charles wondered if Edwin had ever dressed up for Halloween or had pumpkin pie before.

Not that any of that was relevant to him now. But sitting across from him and watching his green eyes track people crossing the campus, Charles wished he already knew all the answers to him. That he really did have an Edwin manual that would be able to tell him the answer to any and every question he ever had about him.

Then again, wasn’t half the fun in figuring out the person? Whoever they might be?

“You know, I do owe you.” Charles waited for Edwin to turn and look at him. “I lost the bet fair and square right? And I know that the agreement was to go running with you, but you can change it, if you want. We can do whatever you want,” he said.

“That is not how bets work,” he said.

“S’how our bets can work. If you want them to,” he said.

Edwin shook his head. “Though I appreciate the offer, you do not have to do that,” he said. “We can drop the whole bet if you would prefer, especially considering… all that has occurred since then.”

Charles definitely didn’t want to do that. In fact, the last thing he wanted to do was drop the bet, because that was their thing. Without them constantly making bets and trying to one up each other in the stupidest way possible, what did they really have? A strained connection through Crystal’s rink and a strange sort of magnetic charm that kept pulling them back to each other?

That wasn’t enough. Charles wanted everything, the silly bets, the long nights. The TV marathons and the practices. He didn’t want one fight to ruin that, no matter what it might have been about.

“No!” Charles said, with far more emphasis than he intended. Edwin jumped, a slightly startled smile on his face. He reached for one of Edwin’s hands, trying to make sure his point got across. “I wanna keep the bet. I–”

“Hey, Rowland!” Mack said, interrupting his thoughts.

Charles moved back before he even realized it. Across the table Edwin did the same.

Mack slapped him on the shoulder, grinning at him. “Missed ya at the afterparty on Friday,” he said. And if it had been anyone else who said it, Charles would have been convinced that it was a guilt tactic for him calling off the aftergame party. But Mack wasn’t like that. Mack almost never took anything personally, and that was a trait that Charles quite admired.

“Yeah, man, you know. Something just came up.” He tried not to glance at Edwin, to give away what exactly had come up, but he couldn’t help it. His eyes darted towards him, and he could see the way Edwin quickly glanced back down at the table top.

Mack followed his eyes, seeming to realize Edwin was also there. “Oh hey! Name’s Mack,” he said, holding his hand out for Edwin to shake.

Edwin took his hand, a slightly surprised look on his face. “Oh. Hello,” he said. “Edwin.”

“Edwin!” Mack said and grabbed him by the shoulder. “I’ve heard a lot about you, y’know?”

Edwin raised an eyebrow at him. “Oh?” he asked.

“Yeah! Rowland’s mentioned you before, and Shelby loves ya!” he said.

Red dusted Edwin’s cheeks, the faintest bit of a blush that set Charles’s butterflies off. It felt like they were trapped somewhere between his stomach and his ribs, their wings flapping and making it hard to breathe.

He was going to have to do something to get those under control.

“Anyways, I just wanted to come over and tell ya that Chris is having a party this week,” he said, pitching his voice up a little bit at the end as if he were enticing Charles with a treat.

And he sort of was. Chris’s parties were always fun. Alcohol, music, and sometimes the dumbest themes you could ever imagine.

It didn’t hurt that he had a whole apartment complex to throw a party in, either. Sometimes it paid to be a rich frat boy.

He glanced at Edwin again. It was dumb, he was sure, but the idea of going to a party seemed a lot less fun than hanging out with Edwin, no matter what he wanted to do. If Edwin wanted to sit around and watch paint dry Charles would be the first in line to do that with him.

“I dunno,” he said. “I’ve got a lot of homework to do and…”

Mack turned to Edwin. “Do you wanna come?” he asked.

Once again, Edwin was taken aback by being addressed. “Me?” he asked, his voice almost squeaky in surprise.

“Yeah! It’ll be fun! Free booze, snacks, music, everything you could honestly want, really,” he said.

Edwin stared at him, wide eyed, before turning to look at Charles. “I–um,” he said.

“Come on, you guys! It’ll be fun,” he said. “Besides, when’s the last time you went to one of Chris’s parties?” he asked, his question directed at Charles. Which was fair, he supposed. This time last year he had already been to several of Chris’s parties, complete with the hangover the next morning to show for it.

He looked at Edwin, who still looked a bit like a deer caught in headlights at the moment. “I’ll think about it,” Charles said, although he had no intention of doing so.

“Great,” Mack said, grinning just wide enough to show the crooked tooth he had gotten his freshman year during a game. “Thursday night. I’ll see you two there! It’s a glow party, so wear something that’ll make it pop, and you don’t mind ruining!”

Charles turned to Edwin, completely intent on apologizing for his friend’s pushy behavior, but paused when he saw the look on Edwin’s face. “What in the world is a glow party?”

“It’s a party where you get glow sticks, paint and powder and throw it on each other,” Charles said. He’d never actually been to one, but he’d heard of them. He was sort of surprised that was the direction Chris had gone, but he always was a wild card.

“Who on earth would think that’s fun?” Edwin asked. “Are parties not already messy enough? Now you have to go and add paint to it?”

The image of prim and proper Edwin at a glow party was so out of place Charles couldn’t even picture it. And he certainly did try, though his brain barely got past the idea of attaching glow stick jewelry or painting him with glow paint before he decided he needed to refocus.

“Not all bad,” Charles said. “It’s kinda cool, honestly. And it’s like one of those ‘must have college experiences,’ right?”

Edwin looked at him skeptically. “A glow party?”

“A frat party,” Charles clarified. “C’mon, you’ve never been to one, right?” Charles knew it had to be true. Edwin was a freshman, and he’d spent most of his first semester skating or with Charles in some capacity. There was no way he’d managed to go to one without Charles knowing.

“No, I have not. Nor do I really intend to,” he said.

“What? No, come on! It’s the thing to do! It’s so American you have to. What’s the point in going to school in America if you’re not even gonna do the highlights?” he asked.

Edwin rolled his eyes. “I did not come to school in America to “do the highlights,” as you so bluntly put it,” he said. “I came to skate and get an education.”

“Right, fair. But what if you consider that you can do both of those things and have normal college experiences?” he asked. “Look at me? I do it!”

Edwin gave him a rather pointed look that Charles felt he should be offended by but couldn’t find it in him to be. He supposed that he and Edwin had different standards for both of those things, and that would not be a fight he would be winning.

“Fine, what if we made a bet?” Charles asked, and he laughed when Edwin groaned and slumped just the slightest bit in his chair. “No, listen! I’m serious!”

“What would we possibly have to bet on, Charles?” Edwin asked. “We have bet on your games, arcade games, and rounds of pool. What would we bet on here?”

Charles reached down into his pocket. “We flip a coin. You can even call it in the air, if you’d like,” he said.

“This is much less… intricate than our other bets,” Edwin said.

“Listen, I’ll drag you to my place for a round of video games if you want, this just seemed like it would be the fairest way,” he said.

Edwin relented. “Fine. So, what is your bet?”

“I win, you come with me to the party. I show you how an American frat party is, give you the full college experience. You can consider it practice for all the Olympic parties you’re definitely going to get invited to when you go to the Olympics,” he said.

A strange, half smile formed on Edwin’s face, as if he were trying to resist the urge but couldn’t quite do it. “Olympic parties are known to be rather… scandalous. I doubt anyone would be inviting me,” he said. And Charles just wanted to tell him how wrong he was, that he could think of multiple people who probably wanted to invite him to a scandalous party, but he didn’t. That wasn’t why they were here. “And what do I get if I win?”

Charles thought back to the last time they had been here, sitting in this same place. The bet they had made then. As if stuck in some sort of loop he leaned forward, his face close to Edwin’s. “Whatever you want, mate.”

Edwin’s eyes flicked down, and Charles didn’t care if it wasn’t actually to his lips. He was going to pretend it was.

“What if I wanted you to help me practice?” he asked. “Not this week, obviously. Coach King has limited that, and I understand. But there are other things that I could use assistance with.”

He blinked. “You want me to help you with practice?” he asked. “Like, skating or something else?”

“It is a bit hard to explain, but it would be with my jumps. I need the help of a spotter, as gymnasts would say.”

“And you think I could do that?”

“I trust you,” Edwin said. And Charles understood how heavy that sentence was. That somehow between their fight and now something had shifted between them that he didn’t know how to define.

But he didn’t need to. If Edwin trusted him, then that was all that mattered.

“Cheers, mate,” he said, beaming like he’d won the lottery. “Call it in the air, alright?”

He flipped the coin and Edwin blurted out, “Tails!”

Charles caught it and slapped his palm over it. Both of them stared at his hand, as if they might somehow be able to see through his hand covering it. Slowly, he eased it off and revealed the coin.

“It’s heads,” Charles said. “Looks like you’re going to the party.” He tried not to be disappointed by the outcome, after all, he had won.

“It looks like I am,” Edwin said, though he didn’t seem bothered either way.

Still, the idea of not being able to help Edwin with his practices after him telling him he trusted him stung quite a bit. But he couldn’t be disappointed. After all, he had won.

XXX

The next two days passed by slowly, though Charles wouldn’t say he wasn’t enjoying it. He got plenty of time to spend with Edwin, even without him practicing all night. Niko and Crystal were feeling better, so he was actually able to see them again without worrying about getting sick, and he’d managed to get a good grade back on his latest English assignment.

All in all, a rather nice week so far. He could only hope that those good vibes would carry on into the party.

Charles had never actually been nervous going to one of Chris’s parties before. They’d started school the same year and had hit it off pretty well, despite Chris’s dedication to his fraternity and Charles’s to the hockey team. He’d been the host of several big parties over the years, all of which Charles had attended and drank until he’d nearly forgotten it all.

But it felt different now. Bringing Edwin with him seemed to change the energy of the party, even more so than when he used to bring a date. Not that Edwin was his date. They were just two friends. Attending a party. Two friends who were attending a party and maybe one of them had a crush on the other.

Not that Charles was going to look into that too hard. It was better to just… let things ride.

But there was something different about going to a party with Edwin compared to the coffeeshop. Or the library, or a restaurant off campus. This was a party. And a college party at that. Full of people they knew. Or, at least, people Charles knew.

And the thing was, Charles wasn’t embarrassed to be seen with Edwin. He wasn’t ashamed or sorry or anything else like that. But he was nervous. Far more nervous than he had ever been to take a girl to one of these parties.

What he and Edwin had was special, but it was also private in a way. They’d of course not hidden the fact that they had hung out before, especially in public, but again there was something different about bringing him to a frat party filled with a bunch of people Charles knew.

But Charles wanted Edwin there. He wanted Edwin to experience college to its full extent, and he wanted to be the one who showed him it. And he wanted Edwin to meet his friends, to get along with them and have fun.

He didn’t see that happening with Brad or Hunter, but Mack was nice. And Chris was fine, if you could get past his… enthusiasm for parties and his frat.

Charles checked himself in the mirror, ruffling his hair back and forth as if it were truly making a difference. The white shirt he was wearing stood out so much against his black jeans, and old jacket that he and Niko had already managed to spill paint on, but not so old that they looked out of style.

It was harder than he would have thought to dress nice when he knew he was about to have a bunch of paint thrown on him. The desire to look nice combined with the chilly weather took away most of his options. If he’d been back home, he would have had a lot more, but at school he was pretty limited.

Still, he thought he looked quite nice. He could only hope that Edwin would think the same.

XXX

Less than an hour later he rushed up the steps of the library where Edwin was standing.

“Sorry, mate, I lost track of time,” he said. “Nearly started walking towards your place before I remembered you were here.”

Edwin smiled as he stood up from the steps. Charles hoped he hadn’t been waiting outside for him long. It was too cold for him to do that.

“It is alright, I was able to submit an essay while I was waiting,” Edwin said. “But, more importantly, is this appropriate for a ‘glow’ party?” He spread his arms out in a questioning gesture, waving his arms down to his body.

It would seem he had also gone with black jeans, though he had opted for a long sleeve white shirt instead with a black athletic jacket over the top. It should have been boring, one of the most basic outfits anyone could imagine, yet Charles thought he looked amazing in it.

“Perfect,” Charles spluttered out. “As long as you don’t mind getting paint on it.”

“I think that is rather the point, is it not?” Edwin asked, teasingly.

“Just making sure it wasn’t, like, your lucky white shirt or something,” Charles said, though he had the thought that it just might be Charles’s lucky shirt.

“Lucky clothes do not exist,” Edwin said. “And if they did, it would not be an old white shirt I sleep in.”

Charles resisted the urge to make a joke about sleeping and getting lucky. He was going to be on his best behavior.

Charles checked his phone. “We should probably head over there,” he said. “The party started about an hour ago.”

Edwin’s eyes widened. “Why did you tell me now then?” he asked.

“You never show up to a party on time,” Charles said. “You’ve always gotta show up at least two hours late.”

“That sounds inconsiderate.”

“Inconsiderate or fashionably late?” Charles asked.

Edwin gave him a look that told him exactly how he felt about it.

Chris’s apartment complex was set off campus in the opposite direction of Edwin’s. It was nice, not as nice as Edwin’s townhouse, but definitely much nicer than anywhere Charles could afford in the city.

And it truly was Chris’s apartment complex. The whole building was owned by his family, managed by Chris, and only fraternity brothers lived in it.

Which meant rich roommates, wild parties, and no one to really call the cops on them.

Their breath frosted the air in front of them as they walked, puffs just barely visible in the night. He rubbed his hands together and tried to take a sneaky glance at Edwin to see if he was bothered by it.

He wasn’t, though his hands were shoved deep into his jacket pockets. Charles knew this bet wasn’t about taking Edwin on a date, but that didn’t stop him from having the urge to reach out and take his hand the whole way there.

Paint already splattered the walkway leading up to the apartments, while music floated down from inside. A sign hung from one of the balconies that read “GLOW UP BBY,” in neon paint, crookedly spelled out.

“Glow up B-B-Y?” Edwin asked, which made Charles smile.

“I think it’s supposed to say ‘glow up, baby,’ but Chris isn’t really the best at making signs,” Charles said. “You should have seen the one he made for his toga party one year.”

Edwin raised an eyebrow. “All this money, and he cannot afford to have a sign made?”

Charles shrugged. “He said that he likes the ‘homemade’ feeling of it. Don’t even try to convince him, it won’t work.”

Edwin held his hands up in a joking manner. “I would never dream of it. There is something very… frat party about it. Great for the experience.”

Charles grinned and grabbed Edwin’s hand. “C’mon, let’s go,” he said.

Edwin looked down at their joined hands, and for a moment he hesitated. Should Charles not have done that? He’d tried the whole way there to not reach out and take Edwin’s hand, but it felt right at the moment. And he didn’t want Edwin to think that he didn’t want to hold his hand in front of his friends. Not that there was really a reason to hold his hand, aside from the fact that he wanted to.

Unless Edwin didn’t want to hold his hand. Then again, he could always take his hand back. It’s not like Charles was holding on to it that tight.

He was probably overthinking everything. Before Charles had met Edwin he would have laughed at the idea. Charles, overthinking things? Especially when it came to dates or whatever? It couldn’t have been further from the truth.

Now it seemed like all he could do was think.

The door to one of the apartments, Chris’s Charles was almost sure, was open though it was almost impossible to see inside. All of the lights were off except for a handful of black lights and some random spinning party lights. Neon paint had already been splattered on the wooden floor, and all Charles could hope was that someone had thought to test whether or not they could get that off the floors before the party started.

“Charles!” Chris said, rushing over to him. He barely cleared Charles’s shoulders, but what he lacked in height he made up for with volume and money. “It’s been a minute, man!”

“Yeah, been kinda busy,” he said dismissively. “And this is my mate, Edwin.”

Edwin smiled a tightlipped, half sort of awkward smile. It seemed strange that Edwin had a smile that Charles thought could genuinely light up a room, but he almost never used it.

“Nice to meet you,” Edwin said, though that was too awkward to be true.

“The figure skater, right?” he asked and shook Edwin’s hand. “Yeah, I know your friend, Simon?” He paused and waited for Edwin to nod, the surprise clear on his face. “I walked him through his degree plan.”

Charles leaned over, probably too close, even given how loud everything was. “Chris is a business major,” he said. “He helps some of the incoming freshmen.”

Chris waved his arms, as if he were showing off all of himself. “Part of the gig! But yeah, I thought I recognized you. I mean, how many other hot British guys can one school have, am I right?” he asked, playfully shoving Charles.

Edwin looked as though he might explode. Or suddenly cease to exist. He didn’t even seem to have an answer for him, which was Charles’s cue to step in.

“Where can we get some paint?” he asked. “Or glow sticks?”

Chris pointed to a table just inside the front door. “Mack’s manning the door right now, he’ll getcha fixed up. Beers in the kitchen, and you can toss your jackets on the bed in any of the rooms,” he said, which was pretty much the case with any party he threw.

“Thanks,” Charles said and led Edwin away.

The temperature inside seemed to immediately climb, sweat already threatening to bead on his forehead as they stepped towards the table Mack stood behind.

“Rowland! You made it! And Edwin!” he said, actually happy that they had showed up. Charles almost felt guilty that he hadn’t been spending as much time as he could with his team this year. Especially since Mack wouldn’t be there next year.

“We did,” he said. “So, what’ve you got here?”

Mack rubbed his hands together before getting started. “First, we’ve got some glow sticks,” he said, handing them each several uncracked sticks. “Then, we’ve got these.” He picked up a couple of plastic squeeze bottles of paint that glowed under the black lights around them. “We’ve got more, but I’m trying to ration them until Oli gets back with more bottles.”

Charles eyed the bottle in his hand. It was small, but he could tell there was still more than enough paint in it. “I think we’re good,” Charles said, handing the bottle to Edwin, who took it without complaint. “Thanks, Mack.”

Mack waved as they walked away, helping the next group of people in line. Charles made a brief detour to drop their jackets off in Chris’s bedroom before leading them towards the kitchen.

Once in the kitchen, he helped Edwin secure a glow stick bracelet around both of his wrists, and a couple of necklaces around his neck. His white, long sleeve shirt glowed almost brilliant, bright purple-white in the black light, a spotlight Charles would always be tempted to follow.

At least he wouldn’t be likely to lose him this way.

“There, now you look properly ready for a glow party,” Charles said, smiling at him.

“Joy,” Edwin snarked, though he did flash him a small smile in return.

Charles knew Edwin didn’t want to be there, that he’d almost rather gnaw off his own arm than attend something like this, surrounded by strangers, but Charles couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t happy he was here. The idea of doing all of this without him was almost infinitely less fun.

“Smile, mate,” he said, jabbing him lightly in his arm while he bounced around him. “This is about givin’ you the proper college experience, right? What’s college without a frat party?”

“Peaceful,” Edwin said.

Charles rolled his eyes. They landed on the keg on the table, and he gestured to it. “First rule of frat parties, you have to drink,” Charles said.

“Don’t you have a game tomorrow?” Edwin asked.

“I said, drink not get drunk,” Charles said. “That’s the second rule of frat parties.”

Edwin raised an eyebrow. “That I have to get drunk?”

He thought about how Edwin had thrown up on the carpet after their first bet. “We’re skipping the second rule.”

“Thank goodness for small mercies, I suppose,” Edwin said.

The kitchen was full, people gathered around two of the kegs Chris had brought in. He already knew Edwin wasn’t going to like it, but still, he slid into line easily and filled two red solo cups with beer.

“Your beer has to be in a red solo cup,” Charles said. “Otherwise, it’s not an American frat party.”

“I love your dedication to the frat party rules,” Edwin teased. And Charles tried not to let it get to him that Edwin had said the sentence that contained ‘I love your’ in relation to Charles’s anything.

“Nothing if not dedicated,” Charles said with a wink. He sipped his beer and cringed. He could already hear Edwin’s complaints about it.

But Edwin didn’t complain. He sipped his own beer, and though he cringed, he didn’t make a single bad remark on it.

“So what is next on your ‘must do at a frat party’ list?” Edwin asked. He took another sip, somehow managing to hold back his cringe this time.

“Well, there’s always flirting with people,” Charles said. “That’s a big part of frat parties.”

“No.”

“Oh come on, Edwin!” Charles said. “It’s a frat party! This is what you do! You drink bad beer, flirt with people. Maybe even go home with them. That’s college.”

“Perhaps we are doing college differently,” Edwin said snippily. Not angry, not even truly upset. Just a little short.

Charles glanced around the room, looking for anyone who might be Edwin’s type. “What about her?” he asked. Edwin gave him a distinctly cold, nearly hostile stare. “Okay, not your type. What about him?” Edwin’s stare morphed into a glare. “You’re not really giving me a lot to work with here.”

“You are not getting a lot to work with because I do not want you to work on this,” Edwin said.

“You’re not holding up your end of the bet,” Charles said, feeling as though he were a child snitching on another kid cheating.

“You said to come to the party. I have come to the party,” he said.

“I also said ‘college experiences' and flirting is part of that,” Charles said. “This is great though, seriously! Your first party, I doubt anyone here knows you. What better time to flirt then when you can’t really make a fool out of yourself?”

“Your friend Chris literally recognized me from some vague description Simon mentioned off hand months ago,” Edwin said. “The odds that someone else knows me here is not as low as you might think.”

“Okay. Fair,” Charles said. He really didn’t have a counterpoint for that one. “Still, I think you should try.”

“Charles, I would not even know the first thing to say to someone if I was flirting with them,” Edwin said.

Charles turned towards him. He leaned up against the bar next to him, ignoring the way the edge of the counter ground into his ribs. It was easy to ignore with the beating of his heart so strong next to it.

“What if you flirted with me?” Charles asked.

Edwin choked on his beer. “What?” he croaked out, drips of beer falling from his lips.

“Flirt with me! It’s perfect. You flirt with me, and then I can give you tips!” Charles said, unable to stop grinning. He felt like a mad man, smiling at Edwin like he had figured it all out.

Edwin started and stopped several times. “I– that is– Charles, that is perhaps the most bizarre thing you have ever suggested to me.”

“Is it really though? I know how to flirt! And I know good flirting when I see it,” he said. How could his plan be wrong?

“Yes, that is likely true,” he said, and Charles tried not to let it go to his head that Edwin believed in his flirting knowledge. “But I do not see what that has to do with me.”

“It’ll be fun! And it’s part of the college experience. You really gotta flirt with someone. And if not me, then who?” he asked, gesturing to the people around them.

Edwin glanced at them, and for one heart stopping moment Charles thought he was going to march over to a stranger and try to flirt with them. But he didn’t, he only sighed and crossed his arms. His beer dangled from one of his hands as he fixed Charles with another, less severe, glare.

“Fine. Tell me what it is I need to do,” he said.

“Sweet! Okay, so what you want to do is practice your walk up,” Charles said, and mimed stepping over to Edwin. “You don’t wanna crowd them, but you wanna get close right? It’s loud in here, you want them to hear you.”

He practiced stepping over to Edwin, moving his head a bit further from him than it had been before. “And then you wanna introduce yourself. Maybe compliment them. And smile! Not that one you’re giving me right now, the nice one, the one with teeth.”

Edwin’s smile changed, almost against his will to match Charles’s description. “This is stupid,” Edwin said.

“It’s flirting! You’ll always feel a little stupid,” Charles said. “Go on, why don’t you try.”

Edwin rolled his eyes and made a big show of turning and walked away. He glanced at the remaining beer in his cup before throwing it back and making his way towards Charles.

He tried to match Charles’s lean against the counter, though his stiffer posture in general made it look a bit more… crunchy than Charles’s casual lean. But his smile was right, and his eyes even seemed to be a bit brighter than usual as he leaned in just a bit.

“My name is Edwin,” he said. “And you have the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen.”

Charles stared at him, his brain suddenly grinding to a sharp halt. He had told Edwin to compliment him, that that was the best way to flirt, but it hadn’t really occurred to him what sort of response he might have in return.

“T-that’s great, mate,” he said, and prayed Edwin ignored his stutter. “But you look like you touched a live wire, you're so tense.”

Edwin huffed. “Well, it is not as if I am used to this,” he said, and stood up to his full height again.

Charles thought for a moment, about where and how he’d seen a similar Edwin. “Lean on it like you did the pool table,” he instructed. “Lean back a bit, unclench your jaw. You’re gonna crack a tooth or something.”

Because, he realized, that was what Edwin must look like when he was flirting, whether or not Edwin knew it. Charles certainly hadn’t realized it at the time.

“Do it again,” he said, pointing for Edwin to walk back over. “And lean like that.”

Edwin did as he was told, muttering some distinctly not kind words at Charles’s expense. “This is a lesson in humiliation,” he was fairly certain he said.

But Edwin did it. He leaned back on the counter, his body less tense and more relaxed than Charles had seen him all week, all while leaning a bit towards Charles. “My name is Edwin. And – Charles this is embarrassing.”

Charles jumped as Edwin’s voice changed from ‘trying to sound flirty’ back to his regular tone. He’d been so focused on the game they were playing he’d almost forgot it was a game.

“Nothing to be embarrassed about! You did great,” he said, clearing his throat. Edwin’s eyes looked worried, though he said nothing. “Let’s get another drink.”

They did, though Charles made sure to fill this one up less than before. Edwin finished his in record time, and Charles wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or the heat of the room flushing his cheeks red.

“What now?” Edwin asked, twisting one of the glow sticks around his wrist.

“Now, we dance,” Charles said.

Edwin cast a doubtful eye towards the living room. The couches had been pushed to the edges of the room, leaving a wide, open space for the mass of bodies currently dancing to another pop hit.

“Out there?” he asked, as if there might have been anywhere else, they would have danced.

“Glow parties usually involve a lot of dancing,” Charles said. Which he had no firsthand experience with, but it was obvious that’s what they were supposed to be doing.

A few more people Charles knew greeted them on their way to grab another drink, at Edwin’s insistence. They all smiled, and politely greeted Edwin, though Charles could tell they were confused. It was rare for him to not be out with one of the team, Niko, or another girl, he guessed.

“Very popular,” Edwin observed.

“Just been to a few of these types of things, I guess,” Charles said. It was almost awkward how many people he had had to wave to or greet at this point, and all he wanted was to go back and hang out with Edwin alone.

Or show him off, though it didn’t seem as though that were a thing Edwin was especially into.

Slowly, they drifted closer to the dance floor. Dizzying music blasted from someone’s speaker in the corner, the black lights causing the colors and his vision to go wild as they spun.

“How do they not get kicked out?” Edwin asked, his head swiveling from side to side, as if he were enchanted by the bright colors.

“Chris’s parents own the complex,” Charles said. “He’s supposed to manage it while he’s at college, but…” He waved his hand around them, gesturing to the chaos that had erupted in what was once a very nice living room.

“Ah,” Edwin said, finally catching on. “That would explain a few things.”

Another song ended, the next one rushing right after it. Charles was almost surprised that Chris hadn’t sprung for a DJ of some kind, like he had at previous parties. Then again, he imagined the amount of free neon paint and glow sticks being given away were likely costing about the same.

Charles grabbed Edwin’s hand and pulled him further into the crowd of people. “Charles, I do not even know how to dance,” he protested, though he didn’t try very hard to remove his hand from Charles’s.

“S’easy, mate. Just nod your head and sway, like this,” he said, moving as an example.

Edwin gave him a doubtful look.

“Edwin. I’ve seen you skate, I know you know how to move,” he said. He gently smacked the back of his hand against his chest as he rolled his eyes. “Stop acting like you’re made of stone.”

People moved around them, bumping into them from every side. Edwin glanced over at a guy near him, dancing with a girl, and Charles shifted them just a bit so Edwin was further away from them.

Finally, Edwin relented, moving his body just enough that it might on some planet be called dancing. He looked distinctly unhappy, but Charles wasn’t surprised by that.

“Come on, like this.” Charles put his hands on Edwin’s ribs, as if that might somehow allow him control of all of Edwin.

It did, strangely enough. Edwin shifted to follow his hands, all the way down from his head to his toes. He matched Charles, swaying and shifting in something much closer to a dance you might see in a club than whatever Edwin had been doing before.

He knew that Edwin could do it. He’d seen his graceful movements on the ice, the way he twisted and curved his body. This wasn’t so different. It was fluid and shimmering, his bright white shirt catching the blacklights like a beacon.

Like a lighthouse that Charles would heed to stay away from the rocks. Or a flame, luring him in like a moth.

Safe. Dangerous. None of it mattered to Charles as long as it was Edwin.

The song changed, something a bit quicker than required more jumping. Charles, worried about Edwin’s injuries from the weekend, moved so his arms were under Edwin’s, bouncing him without putting any strain on his legs.

Edwin laughed and threw his head back. He tried to bat Charles’s arms away, but they stayed in place. He twisted them around, spinning just a bit until he could properly set Edwin back down and laughed.

There were countless people around them, Chris’s apartment well past its occupation limit. But for him, it might as well have only been the two of them.

A few more songs passed before Edwin reached down into his pocket. “So what are we supposed to do with these?” Edwin asked, holding up his own little bottle of neon paint.

“Here, let me show you,” Charles said. He pulled out his own bottle of paint, a neon green that was practically blinding against the black lights above them.

His hands were coated, wet and almost slimy against his skin. He hadn’t meant to spill some much out, only trying to get a bit on his fingers to maybe draw a design on Edwin’s pristine, white shirt, but this was far too much for such a thing.

It, however, was just enough for him to leave a handprint on him.

The music pulsed around them, each beat seeming to draw Edwin closer to him. He was smiling, a shy, almost dopey smile as he moved, somehow always on beat. Charles had never really imagined he’d dance so well to music like this, but it seemed as though he was perfectly suited for it after he got over his little bit of embarrassment.

At least Charles could keep up. He’d spent his own fair share of time dancing in clubs both in the States and back home. Though he had to admit, he’d never danced with someone like Edwin before.

Before he could second guess himself, he reached out, smearing a handful of the green paint down Edwin’s arm. He made sure to leave at least one clear handprint there, a mark that Charles had been there. He’d danced with Edwin; he’d painted on him.

That meant something.

Edwin watched as he did so, the smile never leaving, even if he did seem confused by the gesture. Charles used his other hand to similarly mark his other arm, a matched set as if he had grabbed onto Edwin’s arms and dragged his hands down.

Edwin grabbed his own bottle of paint, a bright, neon orange, and expertly squeezed some into his cupped palm. He rubbed his hands together, coating both of them entirely before resting his hands on both of Charles’s shoulders.

He grinned, Edwin’s hands seeming to perfectly rest there. Like they belonged there.

He put his hands on Edwin’s side, a faint layer of paint rubbing off and leaving matching prints again, this time a little higher than his hips.

Edwin’s hands trailed down his chest, twin streaks of paint running down him. He swallowed, trying to keep the smile on his face in check before he ended up grinning like an idiot at him.

It was probably too late for that anyways.

He leaned down near Edwin’s ear, almost shouting to be heard over the music. “Gonna need more paint at this rate.”

Edwin tilted his head back slightly, to look at him fully, and it suddenly occurred to Charles how close they were standing. His hands on Edwin’s hips, Edwin’s hands on his chest. Their faces were so close, it really would be nothing to close that gap between them.

The room was crowded; countless people crushed into the space. Between the sea of bodies, the flashing lights, and the confusing painted mess of things, it was almost impossible to tell where one person ended and another began.

Still, Charles only had eyes for Edwin.

Slowly, Edwin’s hands lifted off his chest, and Charles wanted to say something or back up, but the music was too loud and there was nowhere for Charles to back up to with everyone surrounding them. But if Edwin needed space, then he needed to try and give it to him.

Instead, he felt Edwin’s hand move up the side of his neck, the wet paint streaking across his sweaty skin until it found its home against the side of his face. Almost as if Edwin were cradling it, holding him in place.

His thumb brushed against Charles’s cheek, and it felt as if all of the air had been sucked from the room. The only thing he could focus on was the touch points between them, Edwin’s hand and his cheek the only real points of contact. Could you even count Charle’s hands on his waist with his shirt in between him and skin?

Slowly, he lifted one of his hands and brought it up to Edwin’s chin, his fingers just blaring grazing against his skin. Edwin’s eyes tracked his movement, his green eyes sparking up even in the party lights.

Charles used his still paint covered thumb to run across Edwin’s chin, right where his mole was. The rest of his hand tucked underneath his chin, lifting it slightly until Edwin’s face was tilted back and his neck slightly exposed.

It would be so easy to lean down and bury his face there. Or to press lips against his, the space between them could disappear in a second.

He waited for Edwin to move, to shuffle back from him. To put a stop to all of this.

But he didn’t.

He also didn’t move closer to him, either, though Charles had kissed enough people to know what it looked like when someone wanted to kiss you. The softening of their expression, the slight closing of their eyes, glancing at their lips. The way they tilt their heads while leaning in.

Edwin had done all but lean in.

Maybe he was waiting for Charles to do it. If Edwin had never been on a date before, then it stood to reason he had never kissed anyone as well, right?

But Charles was still nervous. What if he was reading things wrong? Sure, it was sort of hard to misread a situation like this, but it could happen! And it would kill Charles to have misread something as big and as important as this.

There were other options though. He didn’t have to kiss him on the lips. He could kiss his cheek or his forehead. He could test the waters and how receptive Edwin was to any of that. If he responded well then Charles could always try again.

“More paint!” someone, Oliver from the sounds of it, shouted. Suddenly, paint rained down on them from above, as if someone had filled water guns up with paint and sprayed everyone in the crowd.

From the glance Charles managed to get, that was exactly what had happened. Other streaks of neon covered them, and Edwin let out a surprised snort at the sudden attack.

Someone stumbled into them, their dancing and swaying finally managing to nearly knock them over. Charles wrapped his arms around Edwin, somehow managing to keep the both of them standing despite the full force of two stumbling girls nearly taking them out.

“Sorry!” both of the girls said, flashing drunken, bright smiles at them. Charles could only nod at them in acknowledgement as the song changed and they stumbled to their feet to keep dancing.

“You good?” Charles asked, leaning in close to make sure he didn’t miss a bit of Edwin’s face.

Edwin nodded, though there was a sort of tenseness to his shoulders that hadn’t been there before. Charles would do anything to remove it, to bring back that loose, easy-going smile and sparking current that had been running through them.

“Yes,” Edwin swallowed. He tugged his long sleeve shirt from his body and Charles couldn’t help but notice how much of it seemed stuck to him, the combination of paint and sweat doing wonders to show off his muscular arms and chest.

Not that Charles was noticing.

He also pointedly wasn’t noticing that a couple of other people were noticing as well.

“Hot?” Charles asked.

“What?” Edwin asked, raising his eyebrows at him.

“I mean, are you hot? We can step outside. Get some fresh air?” Charles specified.

Edwin nodded and gestured for him to lead the way. Charles did, his hand slipping into Edwin’s as he squeezed them through the sea of bodies and out into the open courtyard out the backdoor.

A pool sat in the middle, somehow still open despite the cold temperature. It must have been heated, as Charles could see steam rising up off of it, glow sticks and other such objects disappearing down at the bottom of the pool.

The air was almost icy against Charles’s overheated skin, instantly seeming to freeze his shirt to his chest. The paint did nothing to help, instead bubbling and rising against the goosebumps on his skin.

Edwin inhaled deeply, as if he desperately needed to breathe in the chlorine and icy air. There were a few different groups of people gathered around the courtyard, red solo cups and vapes exchanging hands.

“So this is a glow party,” Edwin said, the small, teasing smile back.

“This is a glow party,” Charles said. “They were big a few years back and Chris really likes all the throwback stuff.”

Edwin’s eyes traced the handprints he’d left on Charles. Charles only hoped it was in a good way, a way that meant he might want to leave more and some point in time.

“It reminds me of a skating rink,” Edwin said. “A roller skating rink,” he specified at Charles’s confused look.

“Huh, I guess it does. Kinda like the arcade, too,” he said.

“Yes, but much more… messy,” Edwin said.

A few weeks ago, Charles would have been worried he’d upset Edwin by bringing him here, that he had done something stupid by inviting Edwin to do such a ‘messy’ activity.

But he knew better now. He could tell that Edwin was having fun, that the flush in his cheeks wasn’t only because of the heat on the dance floor.

“Messy doesn’t have to be bad,” Charles said. “Sometimes messy is good.”

Edwin raised an eyebrow, a knowing look on his face as if he had read straight into Charles’s soul. “I suppose messy can have its perks.”

Charles opened his mouth to say something, maybe to offer to get him a drink or go back to the dance floor or maybe even find them a more private place to continue this conversation about ‘messy’ things, but he didn’t get a chance to do so.

“Pool party!” a guy yelled and used both of his arms to grab on to both Edwin and Charles and knock them into the water.

The water was surprisingly warm. Charles kicked and shoved the guy off, his arm desperately seeking out Edwin in the process. His hand caught what he was sure must be his wrist and yanked him close as they pushed off the bottom of the pool.

His head broke the surface. Immediately he wiped the water from his face, almost sad that the paint seemed to come off with it. That meant that he’d never get to see Edwin’s handprint on his cheek.

Edwin spluttered next to him, spitting out water and jerking his wrist free from Charles’s hand in a bid to brush the water and paint from his eyes.

“You alright?” Charles asked, wading over to him. Edwin nodded, though he had to squint at Charles to see him.

“What happened?” Edwin asked.

As if in answer, someone else jumped into the pool. A small wave washed over them, briefly dunking them back under.

“Party rules,” Charles joked. “Once someone gets into the pool it’s like a free for all.”

A girl was tossed into the pool, laughing the entire time. Her boyfriend jumped in straight after her, and several more people followed.

The pool was quickly filling up, and Charles had no problem drifting closer to Edwin. It was almost like the dance floor all over again, closer than they probably should stand, and yet still not close enough. He wanted to pull Edwin in, wrap his arms around him. Maybe bring his paint back out and re-mark him just so he could physically see that he had been there.

“Is this one of those parties you mentioned?” Edwin asked.

“Huh?” Charles asked, his mind a million miles away.

“The kind of party where you end up sleeping on the floor as a twenty-one year old? Edwin asked.

Charles laughed. Neither one of them had had enough to do that. “Suppose it is. Best avoid it if we can, though,” Charles said.

“Hmm,” Edwin said. Charles had forgotten for a brief moment that Edwin was just the slightest bit shorter than him, his head tilted back just enough to try and keep his face entirely above water. “Shame to miss out on the experience.”

“The real experience usually involves throwing up way more than you remember drinking, and waking up feeling like a train ran you over,” Charles said.

“I doubt it really is as bad as all that,” Edwin said. “Or else people wouldn’t keep doing it.”

Maybe. But Charles would rather not have Edwin witness him like that. And he really didn’t want Edwin to have to feel that, either.

Edwin bobbed next to him. “I wish I had a pool,” Edwin said.

“They’re nice. Especially in the spring, it gets so hot here,” Charles said, because he’d never been there for the summer, though he knew it was even worse. He was nearly sweating buckets by the time his birthday rolled around each year.

“They are also good for training. Much less stress on everything,” he said.

Charles grinned and pulled Edwin closer to him. More people had climbed into the pool, all of them in various states of dress. Paint colored the water around them, dyeing the once relatively clear water a strange mess of neon colors.

“You’re so nerdy,” Charles said. “Only you would think of training when presented with such a nice pool.”

“It is not my fault it makes sense,” Edwin defended.

“Right. Sorry, didn’t know two things couldn’t be true,” he teased.

“You know what else I am thinking?” Edwin asked.

“Hm?” Charles asked. He knew what he was thinking about. He moved closer, just a bit more than necessary. If he did it right, they could finish what they had started on the dance floor.

“I am thinking that my phone is ruined,” he said.

Charles blinked, snapping back into the moment. “Your phone was in your pocket?” he asked.

“Yes?” Edwin asked. “Where else would it have been?”

“Fuck! I knew there was something I meant to tell you,” Charles said. He gave him a sheepish grin. “I left mine in my jacket pocket.”

Edwin raised one of the bitchiest eyebrows at him that Charles had ever seen. “You expected this to happen?” he asked.

Charles sighed and put his hands on Edwin’s shoulders. “No? But I’ve been tossed in enough pools to know better than to leave my phone in my pocket at Chris’s place.”

Edwin groaned and slipped his head underwater for a moment. He disappeared, the only thing visible through the cloudy water was his dark hair near the surface. He came back up, the red still flushing his cheeks though the last of the paint had left his face.

“Remind me of that next time,” he said.

Next time. Because there would be a next time. Edwin wanted to do this again. With Charles, who was going to remind him not to have his phone in his pocket. Or at least keep him far enough away from the pool that it wouldn’t be a threat.

Charles could do that.

“Anytime, mate,” he said. “But why don’t we call it a night?”

Edwin sighed and briefly dropped his head on Charles's shoulder. “That is probably for the best.”

The air was cold, cooling the water almost the second they left the pool. People still partied on around them, talking and drinking and throwing paint on each other, though most of it seemed to have run out by now.

Their jackets did very little to stop the wind. Each day was growing colder and colder as it was, and the water dripping off them had instantly chilled the second they left the pool.

He threw an arm around Edwin, as if that might somehow hold the warmth in longer.

Edwin smiled and ducked his arm around him as well.

“S’long way back to your place,” Charles said.

“It is,” Edwin added, his teeth chattering. But at least his limp was gone, and the smile on his face seemed rather determined to stick around.

Which was really all that mattered to Charles.

“You know, my place is a lot closer,” he said. “You could dry off, get changed into some warmer clothes. Plus, I’ve got rice for your phone.” He eyed the bit of the white shirt that had become see-through the second he’d hit the water. He’d been so good about keeping his eyes up and on Edwin’s face, but now that they were huddled side by side, walking, it was only natural for his gaze to wander down.

Edwin flashed him a look that could only be described as flirty. As if he had mastered Charles’s lessons earlier in the night. “Charles, are you inviting me back to your place?” he asked.

The idea of actually doing that, inviting Edwin back to his place, swarmed all of his thoughts. Kissing him senseless like he had been convinced he was going to several times tonight, consequences be damned. Trailing his hands down his arms like he had earlier with the paint but without the shirt or paint involved.

“And if I was?”

“I would tell you that I flirted with a lovely boy at the party and am not interested,” Edwin said, glee covering his face as he turned his nose up in mock haughtiness.

Charles stared at him, grinning again. “Oh yeah, and where is he? Just letting you walk home alone at night? It’s dangerous, you know,” he said, playing along.

“I do not think he would let anything happen to me,” Edwin said. “I trust him, after all.”

And it still felt like a kick in the chest to hear. Maybe even more so now that he had a couple of drinks in him and was living off the high of the party.

Charles leaned down, his warm breath gathering between Edwin’s ear and his lips. He could see goosebumps that weren’t previously there rising up on his neck and Charles liked the fact that he had put those there. “Shame you’re leaving the party with me then, huh?”

Edwin grinned. “A shame indeed.”

Charles wrapped his arm even tighter around Edwin’s shoulder, pressing him closer into his side. Nearly to his dorm and then they could get warmed up and drink all the hot chocolate Charles possessed.

“Not a bad college experience, right?” Charles asked. Because, despite everything, he wanted to make sure Edwin had had fun.

“It was a wonderful college experience,” Edwin said. “Thank you, Charles.”

Charles wasn’t sure why Edwin was thanking him. He was fairly certain he owed it all to Edwin…

Notes:

First of all, I wanna say HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO PARAPH! This chapter is dedicated to you! May you have the happiest of all birthdays!

Secondly, this chapter was inspired by the opening credits of Dead Boy Detectives! I had a lot of ideas about how to incorporate the neon paint/dancing skeletons of the boys, and this is one of the ways I did it! I swear I'm not losing it and making glow parties still a thing lol (though I did love them in college lmao)

And thirdly (is that even how you say that? lol) THANK YOU TO atelierdemoras for the lovely fanart~! Everyone go and check out this adorable little photo booth moment from chapter 7!

PS. UPDATE!! 6/22 atelierdemoras HAS DONE IT AGAIN, READERS! HERE IS A BEAUTIFUL, INSANE, ABSOLUTELY GOING TO SEND ME TO THE MOON RENDITION OF THE GLOW PARTY SCENE HOLY HELL THANK YOU!!!

Chapter 20: I'm Always Coming Back, You Can Bet On That

Notes:

"Take all of your doubts,
you can throw 'em out,
You may be untrue, but I know,
I'm always coming back, you can bet on that,
You're the only place I call home,"
Only Place I Call Home by Every Avenue

Edwin tried to huddle as close to Charles as he could, despite the water and paint that dripped off of them making it a rather moot point. The autumn wind seemed determined to blow straight through their soaked clothes and nip at their skin, no matter how tightly they pulled their relatively dry jackets.

Charles used one of his arms to duck Edwin’s head down low, as if that might somehow keep him warm. All it really did was give Edwin the perfect view, straight down Charles’s shirt. He was sure Charles could feel how warm his cheeks and ears had grown at the mere glimpse of his chest, and Edwin was convinced he was going to pass away as a result.

Still, it was nice to be held this close to Charles, even if it was for survival purposes. Regardless of the reason, they were together- closely together, and on their way back to Charles’s dorm room.

Charles’s dorm room. A place he had been once before and had nearly ended their friendship…

He followed Charles up the stairs, helping him pick up his keys when his shaking hands dropped them. He tried to hold his teeth together, to stop them from chattering, but that only seemed to make his jaw ache and his body shake more.

Charles forced open the door to his room as if he might have needed to bust it down rather than just turn the handle. He rummaged through what Edwin could only assume was a pile of clean clothes before turning to Edwin and handing him a towel and something that looked like a hoodie and a pair of joggers.

“Shower’s down this way, if you wanna wash that shit off. And get warmed up,” Charles said.

Charles’s room was plenty warm; nice and cozy compared to the outside world they’d been in just moments before, but he couldn’t deny that a shower would be quicker. Plus, the urge to scrub the chlorine and paint from his skin was strong, no matter how much fun he might have been having before.

The bathroom seemed to be a standard affair, half of the large space dedicated to toilet stalls along one wall, with the other being lined with showers. In the middle were a row of sinks and mirrors, which made Edwin jump back when he caught a glimpse of himself.

His skin was pale and blotchy, the cold and his own mixed up feelings doing wonders to wash him out aside from the red in his cheeks. His hair was plastered against his head, almost as if it were frozen there, and the paint that had freely covered him before seemed to have washed off for the most part, leaving a trail of mixed up neon colors running down him.

There was no one else in the bathroom. Without his phone it was hard to tell what time it was, though he was aware that they had left the party well before it had ended. His shoes sloshed as he followed Charles towards the shower stalls, wishing that he had a pair of shower shoes or a mat or anything really to prevent him from having to stand on the bare shower floor, but beggar’s couldn’t be choosers.

He did, however, choose the stall immediately next to Charles. Was that a strange choice? It felt strange. But it felt even weirder to pick one far away, as if he should want to distance himself. It is not as though they could see each other in the shower stall, however, the cement and tile wall made sure of that, but it still felt too… close. Especially knowing that they were about to be…unclothed next to each other.

This wasn’t odd. Edwin had showered in public spaces before. Gyms, rinks, all of those were public places set up fairly similar to this one. It wasn’t strange. Nothing about it was strange.

But it was Charles. Charles on the other side of that wall.

Edwin tried not to think about that. He turned the heat up, thankful that it seemed the school did not skimp out when it came to its water heaters. His muscles, which had been starting to stiffen up, loosened just a bit as he stood under the water. He rolled his shoulders and rubbed his hands together, trying to bring some function back to them.

A faint humming reached his ears, and it took far too long for him to figure out that it must have been Charles next to him doing it. Which made it very, very hard to forget that he was currently showering next to him.

Edwin faced the faucet and let it blast him in the face, ignoring the way the hot water scalded his already wind-burned and embarrassed cheeks. The pleasant buzz from the party made it difficult to close his eyes and keep his balance, but he’d grown used to such dizziness years ago. Spinning on the ice was second nature to him, he could be tipsy in a hot shower.

“Edwin?” Charles’s voice asked.

He jerked back from the spray, spluttering. How long had he been standing like that?

“What?” he asked, and prayed Charles didn’t question why he sounded so startled.

A bottle of shampoo tapped against the top of the shower, just barely hanging over the top space between the stalls. “Need this?” he asked.

Edwin let out a non-committal sound that Charles must have interpreted as ‘yes,’ because he dropped it down into Edwin’s hands. It was different from what Edwin would usually shower with, but it seemed nice and it smelled like Charles, and really what more could Edwin even ask for?

He scrubbed his hair within an inch of its life, and did the same to his body when Charles gave him the body wash. He’d probably still need to take a proper shower when he got home, but here at this moment he could at least rinse himself off. And if he smelled like Charles as a result, well, Edwin wasn’t going to complain.

He tried to read the print on the bottle, to see what the scents were, but between the steam and the tiny print and the couple of drinks they’d had at the party, he found it too difficult. But it was spicy, burning his nose just a slight bit as he tried to inhale the scent and memorize it.

Charles’s shower turned off not too long after that and with a sigh Edwin realized he should probably do the same. It was a hassle to get dried off and dressed without accidentally moving the curtain and exposing himself, but he managed it somehow.

He tugged the red hoodie Charles had given him down over his head. The sleeves were just a bit too long and the hood just a bit too large, engulfing him more than any other oversized hoodie Edwin had ever worn.

It’s not as though Charles was that much bigger than him, if any. What on Earth did he need a hoodie this size for?

To his surprise, Charles was already dried off and dressed by the time he stepped out. His hair was damp, those curls just starting to dry and form back into the nice, tousled look Edwin enjoyed so much. He was also wearing a hoodie, which Edwin was almost disappointed about. That glimpse of skin he’d seen earlier had enticed him more than he cared to admit.

Charles stared at him, and Edwin couldn’t help but feel self-conscious. “What?” he asked. Had he forgotten to put on the joggers? Had he put the hoodie on backwards or something? Why else would Charles be gaping at him like a fish out of water?

Charles didn’t answer. Edwin picked up his wet clothes from the bathroom floor, holding them out from himself slightly to avoid any dripping, dirty water.

“What should I do with these?” he asked.

Charles only stared at him again. “Hello?”

“What?” Charles asked, snapping back to himself.

“I asked what I should do with these?”

“Right, here, yeah. Lemme have those,” he said, snagging the wet clothes before Edwin could protest. “I’ll just grab a few other things and throw these in the wash, yeah?”

He wanted to tell Charles that that wouldn’t be necessary. The clothes hardly mattered aside from the fact that they were dripping water everywhere, but Charles seemed determined to do this.

They walked back to Charles’s room where Charles threw their clothes into a hamper and gathered a few others laying around. Then, he poured enough rice into a bowl for Edwin to bury his phone before hurrying out to the laundry room.

Edwin walked around Charles’s room, unsure what to do now. His shoes were soaked through, Charles had taken his clothes, and his phone was likely ruined.

But he couldn’t say he was upset. The night had been fun, far more fun than he had been expecting. He just needed to make sure he remembered to get a new phone after class tomorrow.

“Sorry about the phone again,” Charles said, stumbling back in. “I didn’t– well, honestly, I didn’t think we’d get pushed in. At least not you. And I really didn’t think to warn you either.”

Edwin shrugged. It was not as if it were Charles’s fault. He hadn’t been the one to push them into the pool. Besides, it was not as if it were the first phone Edwin had ever broken, nor did he imagine it would be the last. Things like this happened.

He told Charles as such, who still seemed worried. “Still, a bit rude. And inconvenient,” he said, as if he knew how much Edwin hated to be inconvenienced. And maybe he did, they had been spending an awful lot of time together recently.

Edwin swirled the rice around with one finger, as if it were a zen garden and not the only hope for his phone. “I once ran over my own phone on the ice with an ice skate. This is no more inconvenient than that.”

Charles blinked as he dropped down onto the bed-turned couch. The pillows tipped over, nearly burying him until he batted them away. “How did you even manage that?” he asked.

“It flew out of my pocket during practice,” Edwin said. “I did not see it until it was too late, and I ran it over.” He bit his lip slightly, tugging the skin tight on his chin to highlight the scar he knew was there. “That is how I got this.”

Charles leaned forward at the same time Edwin bent down. He examined the scar, his eyes almost hot enough to be a brand against his skin as he did so. Edwin tried not to notice the way they flicked up to his lips, and how Edwin had to ignore the swooping feeling in his gut he got when he realized how close they were.

It was like jumping and losing yourself in a spin. That terrifying moment where the world was a rush and you were either going to crash into the ice or land a perfect score.

Charles swallowed. “How old were you?” he asked.

The spell was broken, at least slightly. Edwin stepped back so he wasn’t leaning quite so much over Charles. “I believe I was eleven? It was my first phone, if I remember correctly, and I did not yet know how to keep it in my pocket when I skated.”

That was a lesson that he’d learned the hard way. Suddenly stopping and bashing his chin against the ice had taught him the valuable lesson of zippers or arm straps while he skated, if he must have his phone on him.

“S’wild they let you have your phone on the ice,” Charles said, shaking his head. “That was a strict rule for us growing up.”

Edwin nodded. It was a pretty strict and standard rule, though he was beginning to realize there were some differences in how he was taught to train versus how some others were taught. “I needed to listen to my routine music somehow,” he said.

Charles frowned. “Still think they should have figured something else out before you hurt yourself.”

And ah, wasn’t that the recurring theme of Edwin’s life? Learning things the hard way.

He relaxed just a bit, allowing himself to sit down on the makeshift couch as well. It dipped, just slightly, the pillows Charles had shoved off and piled up as support tipping over onto him the same way they had Charles. Slowly, almost so slowly he didn’t notice it at first, Charles scooted closer to him.

It could have been the bed drawing them closer, nothing but gravity and science pulling them together, but Edwin felt as though it were more than that. There was something between them, an energy that seemed determined to force them together.

Fate, or perhaps just the desire of two college age boys alone in a room together.

He turned to look at him, his eyes sparkling in the warm light coming from his desk lamp. Charles truly did have the warmest, coziest brown eyes Edwin had ever seen. It was only natural that he felt compelled to do whatever they wanted him to do.

And right now they looked like they might want to kiss him.

It wasn’t even the first time Edwin had thought that tonight. There had been plenty of looks Charles had given him, looks that said the idea had at least crossed his mind. But there was a big difference between the idea crossing your mind and acting on it, and an even bigger difference between those things and it being a good idea.

Charles’s body was warm, pressed up against his side. They hadn’t started out sitting this way– there had certainly been some space between them when he originally sat down, and it was not as if it were any different than how they had been sitting on Edwin’s own couch a couple of days before but…

It was different. He wasn’t sure if it was the way he’d been feeling after his competition or the lengths Charles had gone to to help him or if it was even just the way the lights had danced across Charles’s wonderful, beautiful, perfect face, but something had changed.

“Perhaps I should go,” Edwin said, springing up from Charles’s makeshift couch. It wasn’t a couch, even, but a bed for goodness sake.

Charles blinked at him. “What? Right now?” he asked. “I thought you were spending the night?”

Yes, Edwin supposed he had talked a big game about flirting with him and spending the night. But presented with Charles there, the smell of his shampoo and body wash on Edwin from the shower and everything else, it felt a bit… much. He wasn’t even sure if it was in a bad way, but he didn’t like the way it made his heart speed up or the blood rush in his ears.

“I think it would be for the best.”

“Mate,” Charles said, sitting up. The bed creaked as he did so, the springs in it protesting his sudden movements. “It’s late. And cold out. You don’t have to go home.”

But Edwin wanted to. Or at least he thought he did.

He glanced at his soaked shoes, and the idea of shoving those blocks of ice back on to his feet made him shiver. It wasn’t that far to his place though, not really. He’d certainly walked further under worse conditions before.

As if Charles could read his mind, he stood up from the bed. “Fine. Okay, that’s cool. Gimme a sec, I’ll grab my keys.”

“No,” Edwin said. His heart was pounding, the roaring in his ears just as loud as it was during a competition. But there was nothing to do here, no routine to focus on or music cues to follow. In fact, it was the lack of instruction that seemed to panic him even more.

“No?”

“It’s fine, I can walk myself home,” he said, nearly running into Charles in his rush to get to his shoes. It didn’t make sense, the night had been perfect. The last thing he wanted to do was panic about it.

“I’m not gonna let you walk home alone this late,” Charles said.

“Why not, you would have to?” Edwin countered.

Charles’s face twisted, confusion evident in his expression. “What’s going on?” he asked.

Edwin didn’t know. It was so hard to tell, and he wasn’t sure what exactly to tell Charles. That he felt like the room was closing in? That Charles had been too close and also not close enough? That everything had been fun and flirty before when it was just an idea, but here alone in a dark room with just the two of them without even his phone to save him he felt… scared? Was that what he was feeling?

The word felt too… serious for the situation. Scared? Of what, Charles? Never. Charles had never given him a reason to believe that he should fear him, even when Edwin had been at his worst.

“I don’t know,” Edwin said lamely.

Charles nodded. “Okay, that’s fine,” he said. “I love not knowing things.”

Edwin couldn’t help the little laugh that bubbled out at that. It continued to surprise him how easily Charles could draw these sounds from him, as if he were an expert at doing so. Like he’d spent most of his life working out how to make Edwin laugh.

Which was a ridiculous thought. First of all, it wasn’t true, and second of all, who would ever do such a thing for Edwin?

“Are you worried about class in the morning?” Charles asked. “Because you can use my alarm. I’ll set it for whenever you need.” He waved his arm towards where he must have tossed his phone on his desk after covering Edwin’s in rice.

Honestly, it hadn’t really occurred to Edwin how he was going to wake himself up in the morning. He was so used to being an early riser that it almost hadn’t occurred to him that he might need an alarm, if only to know what time it was.

“I’ll even walk you back in the morning,” Charles said, barreling on into things he could fix. “If you need your bag or books or something.”

Edwin nodded. That… did make him feel a bit better, he supposed, even though that hadn’t been his main issue.

“Or is it your leg? Because I’ve got meds here. And an old heating pad, though I don’t know if you wanna risk using it. Or I could massage it again, if that helped before.”

The idea of Charles getting close enough to him to put his hands on his leg nearly sent Edwin back into a spiral. It hadn’t been… fun the first time he had done it, but now after all that had happened at the party without even the pain to distract himself?

No, Edwin would lose his actual mind if he did that.

“No!” Edwin said, far quicker and louder than he had intended as he took a step back.

Charles jumped and raised his hands up, and Edwin couldn’t decide if he was doing it for Edwin’s benefit or his own. He also took a step back and bumped into his desk in the process. “Sorry, mate,” he said softly. “Didn’t know I… I didn’t mean to do anything.”

Edwin wanted to sigh or scream in frustration. Charles hadn’t done anything. All Charles had done was be a gentleman to him or at least match his energy at every turn. It was Edwin’s own stupid brain creating problems where they didn’t need to exist, but he couldn’t stop it from doing so.

“You didn’t,” he said. Though he wasn’t sure what Charles didn’t do or what Charles had thought he had done.

Charles nodded, sinking back to lean against his desk. “So was it just class in the morning? Because I’ll make sure you get up in time,” he said.

He pushed his fists together, ignoring the way Charles’s eyes watched him as he did so. It had quickly become a tell of his, though he didn’t know what Charles made of it. This whole situation didn’t feel like “just” anything, but he really didn’t have any other excuse on hand.

“Or was it the clothes? Because you can go through and pick anything else you might wanna wear,” he said, as if he were trying to kill Edwin. The idea of raiding his closet for clothes to wear was… it was a lot. Especially considering he was already wearing exclusively Charles’s clothes.

“No, this is fine, really, Charles,” he said. He pulled the hoodie away from his skin for just a moment, as if he needed to look at it. It was a well-worn red, with the type of softness that only came from wearing and washing it repeatedly. He wondered how long Charles had owned it.

Charles watched him. “So… do you still want to go home right now or…?”

Edwin sighed and sat down on the very edge of the bed. “No. You were right, it is late and cold out, I can wait until morning.”

Charles frowned, and Edwin ignored it. He had already put such a bad air around their evening, he didn’t want to make it worse by trying to remove himself from the situation. Especially when nothing was wrong. He was afraid if he said anything now then he would run the risk of fucking it all up, just like he always did.

And the last thing he wanted was to fuck anything up with Charles. At least, more than he already had.

“It’s no trouble,” Charles said. “If you’re not comfortable here, Edwin, then…”

God, that wasn’t what it was either! Edwin swore! But then again… wasn’t it? It was the fact that he and Charles were alone now after all the flirting. Or had it even been flirting? What if it had just been Edwin reading far too much into everything and Charles just… responding? He was a nice guy, he flirted back with people as naturally as breathing.

Oh God, Edwin had almost humiliated himself.

“That’s not it, I’m sorry,” Edwin said, shaking his head. He couldn’t let Charles think this was his fault or that he’d done something to make Edwin uncomfortable. “I think… I think I am tired.”

That was a good excuse, right? It could explain his moods and actions. Maybe it did explain them. Maybe he would be feeling less… anxious about everything once he had some more sleep.

“Right, that makes sense,” Charles said, though Edwin was almost sure that was just for his benefit and not because he believed it. He gestured for Edwin to lay down as he made a big show of crawling up into his lofted bed. “Best get some sleep, right? Gotta walk you home in the morning.”

Edwin almost missed the way Charles had sat next to him while he’d fallen asleep in his bed over the weekend. But these beds weren’t large enough for that, and considering the way he’d almost had a meltdown over just existing on the same piece of furniture as Charles, he didn’t really think it would be the best idea.

He laid down, running a hand over his leg. It didn’t hurt, not much anyways, but the short walk from Chris’s place in the cold had locked it up more than he cared to admit. While the shower had done wonders for it, he would need to be careful with it this weekend to prevent it from fully becoming a problem again.

Charles’s bed creaked as he leaned over to flip the desk lamp off. Softly, his phone started to play music, the playlist Edwin had grown so fond of despite not knowing any of the songs.

“So,” Charles said. Edwin squinted through the dark to try and see him. He hadn’t expected him to talk after all of this. “There’s a hockey game tomorrow.”

Edwin shifted, the bed springs squealing as he did so. He looked up and across the room, as if that might somehow make him able to see through the dark or the mattress.

“Yes, Charles, I know there is a game tomorrow,” he said. The game schedules were public knowledge, posted right there on their school’s website to see. It was not as if he truly needed Charles to tell him.

Unless he was reminding him because he was tired and wanted to go to sleep and didn’t want to deal with anymore of Edwin’s breakdown. It didn’t sound like something Charles would do, but then again maybe it was? It was certainly kinder than just telling him to shut up and go to sleep.

“Yeah, well, I was just thinking,” he said. “Maybe you might wanna come to it? Unless you had other plans?”

The song changed, back to the familiar Under the Milky Way Edwin recognized. One day he’d learn the other songs on Charles’s list, but right now this one was enough.

He wondered if Charles could hear his heartbeat across the room. Or if he could see how his urge to run was back.

“Charles,” Edwin said softly. “You are aware that you were the one who uninvited me in the first place, yes?”

Because he wasn’t sure Charles remembered. Surely if he did he wouldn’t be asking if Edwin had ‘other plans’ that he would rather be doing.

I don’t think you should come to the games anymore.

Those words had stung, far more than Edwin had imagined they would. But they had also helped to remind him of his rather confusing place in Charles’s life. Charles had his friends already, and regardless of what the two of them were or could be, they weren’t there yet. Or maybe ever would be. Charles seemed to wear loyalty like a cloak, he didn’t think he was the type to shed it so easily, and right now that loyalty was to his team.

Edwin wasn’t looking for a fight. In fact, it was the last thing he wanted to do. But he knew they likely would if they continued down that path again.

“Yeah. That was kinda dumb of me,” he said. “I never- I mean, I did, obviously, I said it, but I never really wanted you to stop coming.”

“You just wanted to stop fighting,” Edwin guessed. Because that was what he had wanted too. Why he had tried to stop the fight and go to sleep that night before they could say something they would regret.

“Guess so.”

Edwin laid there, letting the music wash over him. It would be easy to pretend he had fallen asleep, to ignore that this whole conversation was even taking place. It would even be believable; it was late and they had spent a good portion of the evening drinking and running around a frat party.

But Edwin was getting better about being a coward. Even if he failed at it most of the time.

The bed groaned as he got up and shuffled over to Charles's bed. The lofted position of it meant that his head was about even with the mattress, making it even more difficult for him to see Charles in the dark.

“Charles,” Edwin whispered, as if there was anyway he hadn’t noticed Edwin walking over.

“Yeah, mate?” he whispered back. He could tell that Charles had moved, likely rolling over just enough to see Edwin, even if Edwin couldn’t really see him back.

“I am sorry I did not invite you to my competition,” he said. He lifted one of his hands, intending to reach for Charles–any part of him he could reach, really, but he quickly dropped it back down. He wasn’t even sure why.

“S’no problem,” Charles said. “Think you apologized for that already.”

He couldn’t remember if he had or not, but it didn’t matter. Not when Edwin himself couldn’t remember it.

“I wanted you there,” Edwin said. His voice was thick, just on the edge of crying. He wouldn’t though, no matter what. He had only been in Charles’s room two times now, he couldn’t possibly have cried both times.

Charles sat up so fast he nearly slipped off the edge of the bed. “No, hey, no. I know that,” he said. “And I wanted to be there, too. But there’s always next time, right?”

Next time.

But there would never be a ‘next time’ like this one. One where he returned to skating after such an accident, unsure he ever would again. Besides, he wasn’t even sure he would be able to compete in his next competition at the rate he was going. Not in any capacity he could be proud of, at least.

Edwin stepped back, as though he could physically separate himself from these thoughts. “I suppose,” he said.

He could feel Charles’s eyes on him, even if he wasn’t able to see him. Or maybe he could, if his eyes had adjusted by now. “We could always flip for it,” he joked.

“Flip for it?”

“Tails I win, heads you lose,” Charles said.

Edwin tilted his head. “I think that means you win twice.”

“Betcha I come to your next competition,” he said. “Betcha I get you, what do you buy a figure skater? Teddy bears or something? Bet I buy the best one, and give it to you when you win.”

Edwin couldn’t help but smile. “Charles, I have never been given a teddy bear for skating,” he said.

“Isn’t that what they do? Throw bears on the ice for you if you win? Or no, it’s roses right? Or is it both of them? I think I’ve seen both of them before,” he said.

Yes, Edwin supposed those were things that people did sometimes throw on the ice after competitions. But Edwin meant it when he said he’d never really had it happen to him before. Some of his previous coaches had dissuaded anyone from doing so, as they believed it was childish and a waste of time.

Edwin had never pointed out that he had been a child. It seemed like the type of thing that someone else should point out, not him.

“Where?” Edwin challenged. Unless Charles had taken up watching figure skating videos he found it hard to believe.

Then again, was it so hard to believe that he might have? Edwin certainly watched hockey games when Charles wasn’t around, if only so he could have a better understanding of the sport. Would Charles have ever been tempted to do the same for him?

Edwin almost hoped not. The odds of him stumbling across Edwin skating during those videos were too high, and he couldn’t stand the thought of Charles asking him why he didn’t skate like that anymore. Why he had so drastically changed his style over the last year or two…

Granted, Charles knew Edwin had been in an accident. He knew that he still suffered from some… problems as a result of it. But was that enough to answer Charles’s questions? He could sometimes be like a dog with a bone if he really got going.

“I’ve seen people figure skate before, Edwin. Even if it’s nothing like what you do,” he said and then froze.

Edwin tilted his head again, just the slightest bit. “I take it that that is supposed to be a compliment?” he asked.

“Yeah. ‘Course it is, mate. You’re bloody brills on the ice. Never seen anything like you,” Charles said. And he sounded so sincere that Edwin wasn’t sure how to respond. Where did you go from there?

He could kiss him, he supposed.

But that would require Edwin to climb up there. Or Charles to understand what he wanted to do and lean down. He was almost sure that if he asked, Charles would do it, but was that something you asked for?

How did someone start a kiss? He had read about it during his study sessions for their first “date” but it had been so long ago and none of it had been particularly helpful. A lot of the advice had either been geared towards younger people trying to secure their first kiss, or from people who were more… adept at reading people than Edwin was.

He wished he’d just asked Crystal or Niko, no matter the amount of teasing he would have earned for such a move.

“I–” he said and then stopped. “Thank you. I don’t know what to say,” he said.

“Don’t have to say anything, not when it’s the truth,” Charles said. And Edwin was cursing this lofted bed. If it wasn’t for it he would have grabbed Charles’s face by now and kissed him, knowledge be damned.

Edwin took one step back, and then another when it didn’t seem far enough. “It is late,” he said, as though he hadn’t been half the reason why they had continued the conversation.

“Yeah,” Charles said. His voice was rough. It scratched the inside of Edwin’s brain in a way he couldn’t help but enjoy.

Edwin nodded, though it was pointless, and crawled back onto the spare bed. For once he didn’t fight the mound of pillows as they tipped over on him. Between them and the blankets, there was plenty for him to bundle himself up in and pretend that he had had a totally normal evening with one of his friends, and not one where he had spent the vast majority of time dreaming of kissing him.

XXX

Edwin was sure he was dreaming when he woke up. That was the only thing to explain the gentle shaking and sleep roughed voice of Charles calling out to him.

“Eds, c’mon,” Charles said, gently pulling on the blankets tucked around him. “You gotta get up.”

Edwin blinked. The room was still dark, the sun clearly not even up yet. “What time is it?” he asked.

Charles yawned and checked his phone. “Like, five thirty?”

Edwin forced himself up into a sitting position, knocking a couple of pillows to the floor. “Why?”

Charles smiled and looked at him as if he were a little lost. “That’s what time you wake up, right?”

It was. He just hadn’t expected Charles to actually keep to his schedule. He’d figured when Charles had said ‘morning’ he meant that he was going to wake him up with just enough time to run back home and get his things before his morning classes.

“Here, your shoes are still soaked,” Charles said and handed him a pair of socks and slides. “Best I got for ya right now. Oh, and I moved your clothes to the dryer.”

Edwin blinked. That was all rather… efficient. He didn’t know why it surprised him, but it did. He figured that if he felt this tired, then Charles must be twice as tired since he wasn’t used to waking up this early. Plus, he had a game tonight, he needed all the rest he could get.

“Thank you,” he said and put on the footwear. He stretched, ignoring the slight twinge that came from sleeping on the rather thin mattress and pushed himself up off the bed.

He was surprised to see Charles watching him when he looked up. He wanted to tell him that he was fine, that there was nothing to worry about, but it was sort of nice. Not entirely overbearing yet, like he was sure it could grow to be, just enough that he was aware Charles was looking out for him.

Campus was quiet as they walked towards Edwin’s place. It had been a week since he’d run at this time, and yet it seemed as if the weather had already changed drastically in the mornings. He would need to ask Shelby if she wanted to change their runs to evening runs, though those did interfere with his skating schedule. Though he supposed if he skated later that wouldn’t be an issue and–

Charles’s hands suddenly covered his vision, blocking the path of him ahead. “Yes?” he asked.

“It’s so early, but I could practically see the thoughts spinning around in your eyes. Just watching it was making me tired,” he said.

Edwin felt his ears turn red. He hadn’t been aware that it had been so obvious.

“It’s not a crime to think,” Edwin said.

“It is this early,” Charles said.

Edwin smiled and batted away his hands. “I knew you would never want to run with me this early,” Edwin teased.

Charles at least had the decency to look offended. “That’s not true. Of course I’d wanna run with you. Anytime. Especially ‘cause I lost the bet,” he said.

“You just said that it was too early,” Edwin pointed out.

“To think! Not to run,” he said.

Edwin smiled again. “Go on, then,” he said, motioning before them. “Run.”

“What, I don’t even get a warm up?” Charles asked, leaning in close to Edwin’s face. “Seems a little unfair.”

Edwin’s brain immediately went to all the ways they could ‘warm up’ and then promptly shut down. “I mean, if you cannot do it…”

Charles grinned again, and for a flash of a moment Edwin was convinced he was finally going to kiss him. Instead, he turned and jogged in a circle around Edwin in what he could only think to compare it to was a move from a herding dog’s playbook.

“Like what ya see?” Charles asked, as if his little circles were something to be impressed with. Edwin would have, either way, but it still felt ridiculous.

“You going around and around like a merry-go-round? Yes, wonderful,” Edwin said rather blandly.

Charles reached out and swatted Edwin lightly in the chest. “Oi! I was displaying some sleek hockey moves for you! Just imagine me on the ice.” He made a series of noises that could only be described as what skates might have sounded like on some version of ice, but Edwin had never heard it sound quite like that.

Still, he couldn’t help but laugh at him. It was so… adorable. Charming even, though Edwin knew it probably shouldn’t be.

Charles grabbed Edwin’s hand and moved him around with him, almost like a parody of skating together or ballroom dancing. To Edwin’s surprise, Charles didn’t step on Edwin’s feet once, even despite his rather goofy movements.

Their laughs echoed off the buildings around them, far too loud for the early hours. The two of them should probably lower their voices, at least until the sun rose, but he couldn’t be bothered. He almost never saw his neighbors this early anyways.

They reached his door in no time, and even despite the cold air and his tired body, Edwin wished that their walk could have lasted just a little bit longer. Anything to spend just a little bit longer with Charles…

But it wasn’t reasonable to ask him to stay, not when they both needed to get ready for class. And he should probably shower again, even though the idea of washing off the scent of Charles’s body wash and shampoo made him far sadder than it should.

“So I’ll see you at the game, right?” Charles asked. It was possible that Edwin imagined it, but his eyes seemed to be more intent on Edwin than they had been before, and there seemed to be a certain amount of hopefulness that Edwin hadn’t expected.

“Yes,” Edwin said, and gave him a small eye roll as if this whole thing really was just such a hassle for him.

Charles grinned. “Perfect, awesome.” He leaned forward and threw his arms around Edwin’s neck quickly in the world’s shortest hug, before turning to head out.

Edwin stood there, dumbstruck on his porch and watched him leave.

XXX

Edwin actually didn’t shower once he got inside. He had fully intended to, or at least get dressed in clothes that actually belonged to him before he made himself some breakfast, but instead he fell back asleep on his couch.

He supposed that was what he got for partying on a school night.

Knocking reached his ears, and it took far too long to realize it was someone knocking on his front door. He stumbled to his feet and towards his door, using the long sleeves of Charles’s hoodie to rub the sleep out of his eyes.

Simon stood on his porch, his expression stormy and upset. Edwin squinted, as if doing so might have made his presence make more sense.

“Simon?” he asked.

Simon’s eyes moved over him, taking in Charles’s oversized hoodie and joggers on him. “What are you wearing?” he asked. “Did you just wake up?”

Edwin gave a sort of ‘so-so’ gesture. “I woke up earlier, but I must have fallen back asleep on the couch,” he said.

He stepped back to let Simon in while he moved around to gather up his things. He needed to grab his bag, another pair of shoes, and he should probably at least use some mouthwash or gum if he wasn’t going to brush his teeth. And where was his wallet or keys? He knew that he’d had them with him when he left Charles’s, but where had he set them?

“Where’s your phone?” Simon asked, following along behind him. “And once again I ask, what are you wearing?”

Edwin patted the pocket on the hoodie before handing Simon a baggie filled with rice. “Here is my phone,” he said, aware that it made him sound a little crazy. “And I believe this is called a ‘hoodie,’”

Simon stared at the bag of rice in his hand. “I know what a hoodie is, you smart ass,” he said. “I just meant who’s is it. I’ve never seen it before.”

As if he had seen every single item of clothing that Edwin had ever worn or owned. But there was no reason to hide who it belonged to.

“It is Charles’s,” he said.

Simon nearly dropped the bag of rice. “What?” he asked.

Edwin lifted up a pile of blankets, as if his wallet might be hidden underneath. “Do you see my wallet? Or my keys?”

Simon didn’t even pretend to look around. “Why’re you wearing his clothes? And why’s your phone in a bag?”

“Same reason,” Edwin said. “We were pushed in a pool at a party last night, and I needed something to wear.”

This only seemed to stir up more questions from Simon. “What? A party?” He moved so he was slightly more in front of Edwin, though he didn’t actually stop him from looking for his things. “What were you doing at a party?” he asked.

“Partying, I believe,” Edwin said. Seriously, where had he dropped his wallet or keys when he came in?

Simon tossed him his phone, which Edwin missed. It bounced off his chest and to the floor. Rice poured out of the bag, and Edwin had the distinct impression that even if his phone had been fine before, it likely would not be now.

“Are you trying to be a prick?” Simon asked. “Because you’re doing it.”

Not intentionally, Edwin thought. He just forgot who he was speaking to for a moment, and how Simon didn’t really appreciate that sort of banter. Not like Charles did.

“Sorry,” Edwin said, standing up to look him in the eye. “It was just a late night, and I’m tired.”

Simon’s brows wrinkled. “It’s nearly ten, Edwin,” he said.

“Fuck,” Edwin said, turning around to keep looking for his wallet. “I missed my first class.”

“Yeah, and practice,” he said.

Edwin froze. “What?” He turned around, looking at Simon’s crossed arms and furrowed brow. He was angry, it didn’t take a genius to figure that out, but there was also concern hidden under all of it.

“Coach King said you were free to return to full practice today,” he said. “We were supposed to go over our tapes together and then work on what we picked out.”

Edwin shook his head. “No. No, that’s not– I would have remembered,” he said. Because wouldn’t he have?

No. Or, possibly. But it all would have been in his phone calendar either way.

“It’s Friday,” Edwin said, as if it had just occurred to him. As if that fact wasn’t obvious, given everything else or the game tonight.

“Yeah,” Simon said and practically threw himself down onto Edwin’s couch. He winced when he landed, and pulled Edwin’s keys out from between the cushions. Well, at least there was one item down.

“Simon, I am so sorry,” Edwin said. “Really, I– I didn’t mean to stand you up.” He wanted to say more, to continue on with how sorry he was, but what else could be said? He had messed up and ruined both of their training times, and likely made Coach King mad at him by his lack of responsibleness.

He shuddered to think of all the missed calls and texts he would have from them.

“It’s fine,” he said in a tone that said otherwise. “We can always practice tonight.”

Edwin winced.

“What?” Simon asked.

“I actually have plans tonight,” Edwin said. It was not as if he had plans often, it seemed almost impossible that they would fall on the same night somehow.

“Cancel them.”

“I cannot,” Edwin said, and barrelled forward when Simon huffed. “Really, I can’t. I know I let you down today, but these plans have to happen.”

Simon sighed. “Fine. What are you even doing that’s more important than skating?”

Edwin shifted his weight. For a moment he considered sitting down, but then he decided he liked the fact that when he was standing he could look down at Simon. Their height made doing that nearly impossible most of the time, but doing so now meant he could pretend that he had some sort of control over any of this.

“A hockey game,” he said.

“A hockey game?” Simon asked. It didn’t take an expert to hear the disbelief in his tone. “You’re going to go to a hockey game? You’re blowing off practicing to go to a hockey game?”

Edwin nodded. “Yes? Is that so odd?” he asked, even though he knew it was.

“Is it Rowland’s?” he asked.

Edwin resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “What other hockey game could I possibly be going to?” Edwin asked, finally caving in and sitting down on the coffee table. A different enough surface that he was still taller than Simon, but at least he could sit. He ignored the way Simon’s eyes followed him, as if he were waiting for him to cringe or wince from pain.

There was none, however, or at least not like it had been the weekend before. For once, Edwin had taken Coach King’s advice seriously and resisted the urge to over-exert himself at all this week. The fact that Charles had also been with him during most of it, and would never have let Edwin out onto the ice surely had nothing to do with it.

And now he had apparently missed his return to practice date. He’d have to get a new phone. Soon. And contact Coach King to let him know how sorry he was, as well.

“I don’t know. It seems like you’re doing a lot of things you don’t usually do,” Simon said, just on the nice side of hostile.

Edwin sighed and actually did roll his eyes this time. “Simon, I could not possibly begin to guess at what you mean.”

“A frat party last night?” he said.

Heaven help him, he was going to die of annoyance. “Is that illegal?” he asked.

Simon shook his head. “No. But it’s weird. You don’t go to parties, ever, and suddenly you’ve gone to the bar and a frat party with Rowland? All while not practicing this week? And then missing practice this morning?”

Edwin pressed his fists against his thighs, refusing to let it show how much this was getting to him. The argument they had had the night after the bar was fresh in his mind, the way Simon had sided with his father,and had practically thrown both Crystal and Charles under the bus in the process. “Is there a particular reason you are upset about this?” he asked. Because there had to be something.

“Well, one because it messed up my training too,” Simon said. “But I’m not really upset. Simply worried. Rowland and his friends could be bad influences.”

“It is funny you mention that,” Edwin said, tilting his head to the side. “Because I actually met one of your friends there.”

Simon sank lower into the couch, a rather uncomfortable look on his face. “One of my friends?” he asked.

Edwin nodded. “Chris, I believe it was? He was the one hosting the party.”

Simon’s face turned red, and Edwin couldn’t decide whether he looked more embarrassed or angry. “He’s not a friend,” Simon said. “Just some guy who had to give me advice on my schedule.”

“Ah,” Edwin said. “My mistake. He remembered you, either way.”

He made a move to stand– he still needed to find his wallet after all, but Simon’s hand darted out and closed around his wrist. “That’s not the point. I’m just saying that I haven’t actually seen a lot of you this week, and I was worried. Then I find out you’ve been to some frat party and your phone’s broken and you missed practice…”

Edwin could admit that it did seem pretty bad. It wasn’t, but Edwin had eyes and a working brain. He could assess the situation as Simon had presented it to him.

“I am fine,” Edwin said. “Though I do… appreciate your concern.” And Edwin did. He knew Simon cared about him, even if it was shown in odd ways. They might never have chosen to be each other’s friend under most circumstances, but they had been through a lot together, and that had to count for something.

More than most actual friends, in any case.

Simon seemed to consider Edwin’s words, his eyes moving over him like there might be something he missed. “Can I come?” Simon asked.

“What?”

“To the hockey game?” Simon asked. “You know, I’ve never been to one.”

Edwin wanted to say, ‘yes why would you have?’ but he didn’t think that would help. “You want to come to Charles’s game?” he asked.

“Just trying to see what all the hype is about. You, Crystal, that Niko girl, all seem so obsessed with him there has to be something to it, right?”

Edwin hesitated. It wasn’t really his place to invite anyone to Charles’s game. Plus, he didn’t think he was obsessed with Charles. They were merely good friends, and good friends were supposed to show up and support each other. They were supposed to want to hang out with each other, especially when someone felt as low as Edwin had been feeling lately.

Then again, Edwin didn’t usually want to kiss those good friends. Not that he had much experience with “good friends,” he supposed. Unless one counted Simon or Crystal in that category, but the two of them felt like their own sort of thing best not categorized.

Especially nowhere near the “kissing” category.

“I would have to ask,” Edwin said. “It isn’t exactly my event.”

Simon shrugged, though he hardly seemed satisfied with that answer. “Fine.” He looked at the bag of rice on the floor and sighed as he got up to take care of it. “Do you want to go get a new phone? Or do you want to try and make it to your next class?”

Edwin looked down at himself and the mess around him. “No. I hardly think I would learn anything at this rate,” he said.

“New phone it is,” Simon said.

It wasn’t long before they located his wallet and got themselves out the door. Edwin knew that he would likely regret skipping his classes for the day, but there was no way he would have been productive in them anyways. At least this way he could be doing something.

“He’s not even that big,” Simon said, plucking at the sleeve of the sweatshirt. “What’s he need a hoodie three times his size for?”

Edwin sighed and moved his arm away. He probably should have found a more suitable thing to put on before heading out the door, but he’d slept through so much of his morning that he didn't want to risk wasting any more of it.

“It is a style,” Edwin said, though he had thought much the same thing.

“You call wearing the wrong size clothes style? It looks stupid,” Simon said.

“Thank you, Simon, for saying I look stupid,” Edwin snapped.

Simon rolled his eyes. “Not you, Edwin. Just the outfit in general.”

Edwin rolled his eyes as well, though he didn’t stop walking. How far away was the nearest store that sold phones again?

“We could always practice before the game,” Simon said. “I bet Coach King could make it work.”

Edwin moved his head from side to side, stretching out the slight crick in his neck. “They will be preparing the ice for the hockey game, Simon. We would not be allowed on it then.”

Cars passed through the intersection, and so many people possibly seeing him suddenly left him wishing he had taken a moment to change. At least the hoodie and his hair still smelled like Charles.

“There’s always Crystal’s place,” Simon said.

Simon was well aware of how Crystal felt about him. But Edwin had sent him the mixed signal of taking him to her rink the other night after their run in with Coach Despair. It was hardly a wonder he would think it was a viable solution.

“I– no. I don’t think we could,” Edwin said. He didn’t argue all the reasons why he knew they couldn’t, nor did he wait for Simon to offer any more solutions. “Besides, I am already going to have to beg Coach King’s forgiveness as it is, I really do not want to have to beg him to come back around for practice.”

“You’re not going to have to beg him,” Simon said. “Though I bet you have to do so many laps with one skate.”

Edwin groaned and Simon elbowed him. “Just think, you’ll be so balanced after this.”

“Balanced yeah, that’s what I’ll be,” he said and rolled his eyes.

“Shows you what happens when you go to a frat party,” Simon said. His tone was light, almost joking, but there was an undercurrent to it, something a bit more bitter and biting than Edwin felt the conversation required.

Then again, most conversations with Simon usually felt that way. He could really only hope that he toned it down for tonight’s game, if Charles said he could come.

For both of their sakes.

XXX

Edwin’s stomach turned as he dialed Charles’s number. It had taken him a surprisingly short time to purchase a new phone and to get everything switched over, leaving him with plenty of time to beg his forgiveness to Coach King (which he hadn’t need to do, apparently), let Crystal know what had happened (which he did need to do, before she sent out a search party), and make sure all of his data transferred over fine.

Now all that was left to do was ask Charles.

It wasn’t a big deal. Or at least it shouldn’t have been. All he had to do was call Charles and ask if Simon could come. As if this were a playdate and they were children, oh God.

“Hey, Edwin!” Charles said, his voice bright on the other end. “Your phone okay?”

Edwin swallowed down his nerves. “I actually purchased a new one,” he said.

Charles swore under his breath. Edwin wondered what he was doing at the moment. He’d answered it without any hesitation, but the background was loud and busy sounding, perhaps like the caf or the locker room. “I’m sorry again.”

Edwin shook his head, though he knew Charles couldn’t see it. “There is nothing to be sorry for, Charles,” Edwin said. “That’s also not why I called.”

“Okay, gimme a sec,” Charles said. Edwin could hear as the background got quieter, and he could only assume that he had moved outside or into a hall, somewhere away from the noise. “What’s up? You okay?”

“Simon asked if he could come to the hockey game,” Edwin said, all of his words tumbling out in a rush. Even he had trouble deciphering what he’d said.

“What?” Charles asked.

Edwin cleared his throat. “Simon has asked if he could attend the game with Crystal, Niko, and I,” Edwin said. He paced the floor of his living room, desperate for something to do to distract himself but unable to find anything. “I have not given him an answer.”

“Why’d he wanna do something like that?” Charles asked. Which was a fair question, and not really one Edwin had been able to answer so far.

“I assume to see the game?” Edwin said, as if the answer was obvious despite his own confusion.

“I mean– it’s not like it’s just my game,” Charles said. “I can’t, like, tell him not to come.”

Edwin’s brows scrunched together. “But you would, if you could?”

Charles sighed. He hesitated a moment, and that was enough of an answer for Edwin. He could take a hint. But before he could say so, Charles continued.

“Both of you can do whatever you want, mate,” he said.

Edwin frowned. “Yes, but I was asking you,” he said.” This is your space, and I am wanting to respect it. If you do not wish for Simon to come, then he won’t.” All Charles had to do was say that. He would even come up with some excuse to Simon so it didn’t have to be Charles’s “fault.”

“Nah, the more the merrier right?” Charles said, and Edwin could hear the smile in his voice. The only thing he couldn’t tell was if it was real or not.

“If you are sure,” Edwin said.

“‘Course,” Charles said. Short, but not entirely unpleasant.

“Then I suppose I will see you at the game? Are there any plans for afterwards?” Edwin asked.

Charles let out a quiet hmm. “Some of the guys are going to Max’s, but not really. Halloween’s almost here, and that’s a pretty big party time for us.”

Edwin tilted his head. “Halloween?” he asked. “What, do you dress up and go trick or treating?” The idea of a group of giant hockey players lining up to get free candy was hilarious, but Edwin had a feeling that wasn’t accurate.

“Nah, but there are plenty of parties! You should come to one,” Charles said.

“Did I not just attend a party?” Edwin asked. “One that resulted in my phone being ruined and missing class and practice.”

“What?” Charles asked, and Edwin actually cringed. He hadn’t meant to tell Charles that part, at least not yet. “What happened?”

Edwin tried to wave it off, even if Charles couldn’t see him. “I accidentally fell back asleep, it is no problem. I have already talked to Coach King and emailed my professors, so everything is fine.”

Or at least it was as fine as it could possibly be.

Once again Charles cursed under his breath. “Fuck, mate, I’m sorry.”

“As I said before, it is not your fault,” Edwin said.

“Still feels like it, though, don’t it?” Charles asked. It was silent for a moment, and Charles seemed deep in thought on the other end. “At least you got some sleep, right?” he asked, always the optimist.

Edwin smiled and resisted the urge to let out a quiet laugh. “Yes, at least there is that.”

The background noise grew louder on the other end of the line, and Charles shouted something over his shoulder. “Sorry, Edwin, I gotta go. But I’ll see you at the game tonight. And Simon can come too, but if he makes any smart comments I swear I’ll–” Charles let his sentence hang there for a moment, and Edwin wasn’t entirely sure what was supposed to fill the space.

“I will make sure he does not. But we’ll see you there,” Edwin said, which seemed good enough for Charles, who gave a quick ‘bye’ before hanging up.

Edwin could only hope that this game went better than the last.

XXX

The arena was already steadily filling up when they arrived. Edwin had slid on his usual DRAGONS hoodie to prepare for the game, while Simon had at least chosen to wear a more casual sweater than usual.

Edwin wasn’t even sure why he was judging what Simon was wearing. It probably had something to do with the terrible, nervous energy running through him, and almost all of it about things he couldn’t help or change.

Across the room he spotted Crystal and Niko, their arms hooked together as they looked around the crowd for them. Edwin had to admit it was charming the way Niko’s eyes lit up when she saw him, as well as the way she held up her hand to wave so he couldn’t miss her.

He could almost see the moment both of them spotted Simon. Their expressions dropped and instantly became more guarded, though Niko was quicker to catch her expression than Crystal was.

Niko smiled a rather tense, awkward smile at Simon. It was odd to see the usually sunny girl feel so put out by someone.

“Niko,” she said. “We’ve met before?”

Simon nodded, though he didn’t say anything else. Crystal rolled her eyes at him and grabbed Niko’s arm again. “Come on, Niko. Let’s go get our seats.”

They watched as the girls turned and left. The second they were out of sight Edwin turned back to Simon. “That was rude,” he said.

“What?” Simon asked, as if he were truly confused. “I barely remember meeting her.”

That wasn’t the point, and Edwin knew that Simon knew that. “Please, just remember that you and I were both invited to this game,” he said.

“Since when do you, have to remind me of manners?” Simon asked, and Edwin felt as though that were a particularly low blow.

“I am not reminding you of manners, I am reminding you that neither one of us are in our element right now, and it would be best if we behaved,” Edwin said.

Simon looked as though he might argue before looking around at the groups of students streaming in around them. Edwin might have been to a couple of games at this point, but he certainly wasn’t used to any of this by any means, and the less tension Simon caused the better.

He nodded, and Edwin felt a sigh of relief roll through him. “Let’s go catch up with the girls,” Edwin said. He tried to not regret asking Charles if Simon could come, tried to keep everything happy and light and “unphased,” though that was the last thing he was feeling at the moment.

But this would be better. If Simon could see how good Charles and Niko were, then maybe he would worry less. And while Edwin was aware that his recent actions were concerning, there was nothing wrong with his new friends.

Though, there was another thing bothering him…

“Simon,” he said, stopping to catch him by the arm. He stopped immediately and turned to look at Edwin and Edwin was suddenly struck with the fact that he wasn’t sure how to start what he wanted to say.

“Do you know any of the hockey players?” he asked.

Simon shrugged. “In passing. Why?”

No choice but to ask then, really. “Do you know who Brad or Hunter are?”

Simon seemed to think about this for a moment. “The name’s are familiar. Why?”

Edwin bit his lip as he chose his next words carefully. “Tonight, will you help me keep an eye on them?” he asked. “Just when they’re on the ice with Charles.”

Simon’s eyes narrowed. People brushed past them, nearly knocking them into each other. “Isn’t that what we’re doing? Watching the game?”

“Yes, of course. But,” he trailed off for a moment. It was not as if Simon had any sort of vested interest in any of these people, least of all Charles. He wished the two of them would get along, as he felt as though it would make his life significantly easier, but he hoped that even if they couldn’t they could at least be civil towards each other.

Which meant recruiting Simon into watching out for Charles.

“The last time I was at a game, Charles got hurt,” Edwin said. He closed his eyes as he imagined it for a moment, the way he’d bounced off the wall and then slammed into the ice. The way Edwin hadn’t been able to tell the difference between reality and the past for a moment as he had stumbled down the stairs.

He opened his eyes as he exhaled. Simon’s eyes were drilling into him, intense and dark as he stepped closer to him. Another person brushed past Edwin and he jumped, moving towards Simon in his surprise.

“Charles got hurt,” he said, pushing past the lump in his throat. “And I think at least some of the blame was with his teammates.”

Edwin could practically hear the way Simon’s jaw tightened, accentuating his chin and jaw in the process. He pulled Edwin away from the hustle and bustle of the corridor towards the wall, where they could at least have their back to something solid, stable, and unlikely to surprise them. He thought for a moment that he might keep going, pull them all the way outside the arena and back into the cold campus air.

He didn’t, though it certainly seemed like he wanted to.

“What makes you think that?” he asked.

“I saw it,” Edwin said. Then, because he felt the need to defend Charles’s own viewpoint, even if he wasn’t there he added, “Or, at least I believe I did.”

“You’re smart, you’re usually right,” Simon said in a way that wasn’t even a compliment. It was just a fact. He looked around at the crowd filtering its way into the stands. “Why does it matter?” he asked.

Why did it matter? Why wouldn’t it matter? Someone had hurt Charles, someone who he was supposed to trust. Of course that mattered.

At least it did to Edwin.

“Because they hurt him. And they should not be allowed to get away with it,” Edwin said, staring Simon down.

Simon met his eyes, a strange sort of emotion settling in that Edwin couldn’t place. If they had more time, or at least more privacy, he might have tried to understand–at least asked. But a busy sports venue with a crowd of college kids streaming in hardly seemed like the appropriate place.

Still, it took Simon too long to respond. “Fine,” he said, finally breaking out of his silence. “I’ll keep an eye out for Rowland. But only because you asked.”

Edwin could live with that. In fact, he hadn’t really expected it to be any other way.

“Thank you,” he said. He reached out to Simon and patted him on the arm, which made Simon’s face do a funny twist in the process. They had never been the most physical of friends, but Edwin didn’t think it would have been that strange or out of character for him to touch his arm.

Apparently, he’d been wrong. Noted. Hanging around Charles, who seemed to have an obsessive need to hang or lean on everyone around him was starting to warp his beliefs in how other people operated.

They climbed up to the same place they had sat last time, and Edwin wondered if Niko had a deal to always secure these seats or if she were just lucky. Both of the girls flashed him a nervous smile as they approached, which he quickly returned. Simon gave a small wave, though Edwin wasn’t sure why.

“The announcers have already been on one,” Crystal said.

“About what?” Edwin asked.

Before Crystal had a chance to answer they cut in over the speakers. “And can you believe it? They really think those warmups were enough. Even I can tell they are like a microwave meal.”

“Hot on the outside, cold in the middle?”

“Exactly.”

Simon leaned around him, looking up into the press box. “Who the hell are they?” he asked.

Edwin shrugged. “Charles said they were new announcers this year."

“Yeah, and they’re menaces,” Crystal said. “They don’t even comment on the game; they just love shit talking.”

“Sounds like someone else I know,” Simon said pointedly.

Crystal flipped him off.

“Alright,” Edwin said, moving until he could block their view of each other as if they were betta fish in the same tank.

This was already shaping up to be one of the longest games in the word, and it hadn’t even started yet

“I don’t know why they’re complaining,” Niko said. “I love the warmups. Best part of the game, if you know what I mean.” She did a rather impressive wag of her eyebrows before tilting her head towards the ice.

The teams were doing some rather… interesting warmups. Edwin, no stranger to stretching or ice sports, knew what they were doing. Stretching out their muscles, getting ready to move and bend and barrel across the ice as need be, but the way they were doing it all looked rather... Interesting. Suggestive.

His face burned as he watched them. Simon seemed caught between looking at him or down towards the ice, his face also a deep, unfamiliar shade of red. It hadn’t been this awkward the last time he’d watched a game. Then again, he certainly hadn’t had Charles’s hands on him like they were at the party the night before the last game, either.

“You would think they could stretch without looking so….” Edwin trailed off, unable to complete his sentence.

“Sexy?” Niko asked, and Edwin nearly choked on his own spit.

“No. No, that was not the word I was going to use.”

“Sexual? Ooh, sensual,” she said.

Edwin buried his face in his hands. “I’m going to kill myself.”

At least Simon looked to be in a similar boat.

“I don’t think humping the ice looks sexy, Niko,” Crystal said. And oh, perfect, Crystal had joined in on this. “No matter how hot the guy is.”

“Please never say that word again,” Edwin said.

Crystal grinned. “Hot? Sexy?” she asked.

“No!” both Simon and Edwin said.

“Hump isn’t a bad word, you prudes,” she said and stuck her tongue out.

It might not be, but it might very well be the word that killed him. It was bad enough watching the guys on the ice… warmup, but to have Crystal and Niko narrate it? All while Simon was sitting right next to him? Was it possible to die of embarrassment? Because Edwin Payne might be the first person on earth it happened to.

Add in the fact that the stands were narrow. A fact that Edwin already knew but hadn’t truly considered before that moment. When it was the three of them it hardly mattered, it was not as if Niko or Crystal were using much of their leg room. But with Simon’s long legs next to his, it felt a lot more cramped.

Still, they’d sat in stands together before. This would hardly be the first time they were this close together.

Yet it seemed like there wasn’t enough room, no matter what they did. Simon’s legs pressed into his, his elbow bumped into him at odd times, and no amount of invading Crystal’s space seemed to prevent it.

It wasn’t uncomfortable or truly awful, it was just… awkward.

Once the game started things got a little bit better. There were other things to focus on, such as keeping an eye on Charles around his teammates, and there were plenty of times they stood up to cheer at the mascot’s request.

For the most part, it seemed as though Charles’s team worked well together. Even Brad and Hunter seemed to be like well-oiled machines at times, shooting the puck back and forth between each other, blocking shots, and slamming the other team’s players when they got too close or too excited.

Mack, or that was who Edwin assumed McElroy was, was a star, buzzing around the rink, controlling the puck like it was nothing. Edwin might be a professional skater, but he had never quite learned how to do other ice sports like that before.

And then there was Charles. Edwin was sure he was biased, being his… friend, and all, but he truly was something to see on the ice. He’d of course seen him skate before, had even watched him practice a couple of times before Edwin’s late night scheduled practices, but there was something about seeing him surrounded by other players. Seeing him in his element, that made Edwin feel… something.

He was fast. Not as fast as Edwin, but still quick. He moved like he already knew where he needed to be, even if the puck wasn’t there. Like he trusted his team to put it there. And perhaps that was merely good teamwork, a culmination of three years of skating together, but Edwin was going to admire it all the same.

There was also the way he moved other players. Checking them, brushing them off to the side as he moved across the ice. It took a lot of power to move or stop guys sized like those hockey players, and Charles did it with ease.

It certainly did not make sitting next to Simon any easier.

By the end of the first quarter, Charles’s team had scored two goals to the other team’s zero.

“Good thing you didn’t bet anything on this one, huh?” Crystal asked.

Edwin nodded, though he supposed it didn’t matter. There were already other conditions going unfulfilled by their bets that he wasn’t even entirely sure why they still did them.

“Bet?” Simon asked.

“Edwin lost a bet and had to go on a date with Charles,” Niko said, her voice dreamy. “Isn’t it romantic? Like something out of a romcom.”

“Or a horror movie,” Simon muttered. He turned to Edwin, his brows drawn together. “Is that why you went to the bar with him?”

Edwin sighed. “It wasn’t a date. But yes, that is why.

“It was only not a date because no one wants their first date to be a bet,” Crystal said. “But it was definitely a date.”

Edwin glared at her. Sometimes he was convinced that she did these things just to be a problem for him. “It definitely wasn’t, Crystal, but thank you for your input.”

Simon seemed angry now, though Edwin couldn’t put a finger on why. “Did he know it wasn’t a date?” Simon asked.

“Well, I should certainly hope so, considering he was the other half of the bet,” Edwin said.

The answer didn’t seem to satisfy Simon, though Edwin doubted much would at the moment. He wasn’t entirely sure where Simon fell on the issue of guys going on dates with each other. It was, after all, a common stereotype that all figure skaters were gay. An untrue one, to be sure, but that didn’t make the stereotype any less prevalent or painful when used against you.

He knew he’d certainly heard his fair share of unkind words about such issues, and he could only imagine Simon has as well. He didn’t think Simon was homophobic, but, it was always hard to tell in a sport like this. Relationships, gay or otherwise, just weren’t things Edwin or Simon discussed with each other.

Not that Charles was gay. Or into Edwin. And it hadn’t even been a real date in the first place.

But from the look on Simon’s face, it didn’t matter.

“Shitty thing to bet on, don’t you think?” he asked, his voice just low enough for Edwin to hear. From the corner of his eye he could see Niko leaning around, trying to hear what was being said, but between the crowd and the distance between them it made it almost impossible for her to hear. “You at least deserved someone to take you on a real date, not someone who was just going to screw you and leave.

Edwin’s face was red, he could tell. Both in anger and in embarrassment. “There was no screwing,” Edwin growled. “As you might recall, since you interrupted the end of our bet.”

“Oh so there would have been, if I hadn’t?” he asked.

“No!” Edwin said. Or, more accurately, yelled if the way both Crystal and Niko jumped was any indication. He stamped down on his embarrassment, trying not to let it choke him as he fought to get words out. He dropped his voice lower, once again hissing at Simon in the vague hope that neither Crystal nor Niko would hear. “Besides, it is not as if I had anyone else lining up to take me on a date. Why should it matter if it was for a bet?”

He didn’t even wait for Simon to answer. He sprang to his feet and brushed past him, ignoring the way he nearly tripped over Simon’s long legs in the process. The ice had nearly emptied of players, and Edwin tried–truly he did, to not look out and catch a glimpse of Charles.

Of course, that was instead exactly what he did.

One of his hands was raised, as if he were waving at them. Edwin didn’t have it in him to wave back. He continued on down the stairs, ignoring the way the mascot tried to get his attention to do some sort of intermission game.

He wasn’t going to do it. Even if he’d been in a better mood, which he distinctly wasn’t.

He couldn’t be gone long. The game would start up soon enough, and there was no way Edwin was going to miss any of that. Not when he and Charles had finally made up again. But he didn’t want to sit there next to Simon and have him talk about things that he didn’t understand. He didn’t want him to try and explain how stupid it was to bet on things like first dates or hangouts or Edwin’s heart.

He knew it was stupid. He’d known the moment he’d snapped at Charles and he refused to leave that this boy would be trouble if he let him stay, let him get close.

And what had Edwin done? Exactly that.

He quickly ruled the bathrooms out as a hiding spot. There were too many people in there, or waiting in line, and Simon would likely find him. If he bothered to come after him. But the front door was right there, propped open to help cool off the hot lobby despite the heaters working overtime everywhere else in the building.

He stepped out, letting the cold air sooth his clogged throat and his overheated face. It was dumb to let such comments get to him, especially when they were true. Or, at least Simon believed them to be true. And why shouldn’t he? It is not as though Edwin had been very open about any of his interactions with Charles. He knew how they felt about each other, and he’d thought it best to keep it all separated.

It was hard to tell if he was right. Considering everything that was said he thought he might be, but maybe it would have been different if Simon had been kept in the loop more. Maybe then he could see how things were… different than they first seemed.

A bright purple coat and black combat boots stepped into his vision.

“I’m getting tired of chasing you down stairs,” Crystal said. “Can’t you pick a less exercise intensive way to escape?”

Edwin smiled despite everything. “You are right. Maybe next time I will simply jump over the railing. Far more energy efficient.”

“Well, all of this certainly wouldn’t be a problem anymore,” she said and laughed at her own dark joke.

Edwin leaned up against the side of the building. The cement was cold, quickly seeping in through his DRAGONS hoodie. He wished he had Charles’s oversized hoodie to wear on top, the perfect size to be another layer between him and the cold.

And clearly for no other reason.

“He’s an ass,” Crystal said. “You know this.”

She didn’t specify who he was. Edwin already knew.

“And yet you left Niko with him,” he said. “A fate worse than death.”

“No,” Crystal shook her head. “She’s in the bathroom. He’s all alone in the stands right now.”

It seemed fitting.

“What did he say?” she asked, and Edwin shrugged.

“Does it matter?”

Crystal tilted her head. “No, I guess not.” She’d never been fond of Simon, even when they were children. She claimed he was a know-it-all, and not in the ‘fun way’ Edwin was, though she had made it clear at times that she also didn’t think his own know-it-all ways were fun either.

But he’d been there for Edwin when no one else was. And he’d put up with an awful lot from him. He was entitled to feel upset if he thought someone was taking advantage of him, right? That's what friends were for. He was fairly certain Crystal would have felt the same way if she hadn’t gotten to know Charles or Niko first.

“We should get back before the game starts up again,” he said, though he knew they still had at least a few minutes. And two more periods.

“We will.”

Edwin watched people walk by the arena. Even through the streetlights it was hard to see too far out in front of them, as night had well settled in by now. He wondered what Charles would want to do after the game. Would he go out with the few of his friends going to Max’s? Would he want to hang out with Crystal, Niko, and him instead?

Edwin hated that there even was an instead. Charles should get to do both of the things that he enjoyed.

“Why’d Simon come with us tonight?” Crystal asked.

“Because he wanted to see the game?” Edwin answered, though it was definitely posed more as a question.

“Doubt it,” she said. “He’s hardly spent any time watching the game.”

Edwin had no clue what he could have possibly been doing if he wasn’t watching the game.

“He asked. And Charles said yes, so he came,” Edwin said. “And… and I wanted to have a second opinion. On Charles’s teammates.”

Crystal’s brows nearly shot up into the sky. “You asked Simon about this?” she asked, her voice high pitched.

“Not in so many words. I just asked him to help me keep an eye out,” Edwin said, shifting from foot to foot. “I know Charles has said his part on the matter and I respect it. But if there is even a chance that I am right, well, I can’t just sit by and do nothing, right?”

“Edwin,” Crystal said, stepping in front of him until he had no choice but to look at her. “I’m not trying to tell you how to live your life, but bringing Simon in on a Charles issue is just asking for trouble.”

Edwin bit his lip. It’s not that she was necessarily wrong, it was just that he hadn’t known what else to do. There had been no one else he knew who he could ask, considering the last time he had brought it up everything had fallen apart. Even Crystal and Niko had seemed to side against him if only to keep the peace.

“Fine,” he said. “I will drop it. Completely, this time.”

She looked at him as if she doubted him but nodded. “You know, now it’s my turn to lecture you, though I think you probably already got an earful from Simon. Who shouldn’t lecture you, by the way.”

Edwin raised an eyebrow. “Lecture me? For what?” he asked.

“For going to a frat party on a school night? Breaking your phone in a pool? Missing your morning classes and practice?” She rattled off, listing them one by one on her finger.

“Oh, so you can lecture me about those things but Simon can’t?” he asked. It was hypocritical, considering the parties Crystal had attended when she was younger, but the two of them weren’t known for not being hypocrites.

“Yeah, it’s part of being your best friend,” she said and gave him a hard but friendly nudge in the ribs. “But seriously, Edwin, what the fuck? I’m not mad you went out or anything, really, I think it’s kind of good for you. But missing class? And practice?” Concern seemed to pour out of her brown eyes, threatening to drown them both. “What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing!” Edwin said, exasperatedly. “Nothing is going on with me. This is the same conversation I had with everyone after I went out to the bar. First, everyone tells me to ‘lighten up’ and ‘relax’ and then, when I do, I am talked to like I am one wrong step away from a meltdown or ruining my entire life.”

Which, considering everything, might be more true than he cared to admit. But he didn’t think that it had anything to do with choosing to go out or not. It was more the fact that everyone, even Charles, seemed to think that they knew better than him on every issue.

He pushed off the wall, pacing. “Yes, I went to a party. Yes, I broke my phone at said party. And because I broke my phone, I slept through my alarms and my reminder about meeting with Coach King and Simon for practice today,” he said. He felt as though he were on a roll, picking up speed running down hill and unable to stop. “Would I normally forget such a thing? Unlikely, but then again, I am usually practicing everyday. It is only because of my pause in training that I forgot what day it was and missed it.”

Plus the fact that he had been so wrapped up and stressed about falling asleep at Charles’s place and being reinvited to his hockey games. That certainly had more to do with it than he cared to admit.

Because if he admitted that, then people like his father or Simon would use it as proof that Charles was a bad influence, and people like Crystal and Coach King would use it as proof that he should have taken more time off from skating to “figure things out.”

Edwin didn’t know what there was to ‘figure out.’ He was a figure skater, and that was what he wanted to do.

He wasn’t certain which way Charles would fall on the issue, but that didn’t matter. That was part of the reason he hadn’t brought the issue up to him in the first place. If he knew Charles like he thought he did, then he would likely feel guilty and that was the last thing Edwin wanted him to feel.

Crystal held her hands up. “Hey, I’m not saying you shouldn’t enjoy college. In fact, I think you should do it more,” she said. “I just want to make sure you’re good.” Something heavy and dark settled over her eyes as she stared past him into the parking lot. “Because Charles seems like a great guy, and I really do believe that. But I also know how easy it is to get wrapped up in parties and all that other bullshit and forget what’s important.”

Edwin kicked the cement in front of him. He hated when she spoke like this. From experience. If he ever saw David, he would– well, he didn’t know exactly what he would do but it wouldn’t be good

“Understood. I will be focusing on ‘what’s important,’” Edwin said, quoting her words with his fingers.

She elbowed him in the ribs, probably far harder than she actually meant to. “Just so you know, you’re the one who gets to decide what’s important to you,” she said.

He smiled and elbowed her back. “Joy, I was wondering who exactly was supposed to give me my assignments.”

She rolled her eyes. “Come on. You’re gonna make Charles sad if you miss another game.”

The game had already started by the time they made it back to their seats. Niko seemed to be talking a mile a minute to Simon, a trait Edwin both appreciated and was amazed by. To Simon’s credit, at least, he seemed to be listening, if not at least slightly engaging with her.

It seemed Niko could break through to almost anyone, however, as the sour look on Simon’s face had at least faded to something closer to his usual expression.

“Here,” Simon said, once Edwin reached them. He handed him a water bottle, clearly from the concession stand. “Didn’t know if you’d want anything else.”

Edwin nodded. “Thank you,” he said.

“Simon and I were just talking about skating,” Niko said. “He told me that you and him have skated couples before?” She leaned forward, her hair almost draping over the people in front of them before Crystal pulled it back on their side. “What’s that like?”

Edwin shifted. “It’s called pairs, Niko, not couples,” he said, torn between smiling at the mistake and shuddering. The words couples and Simon did not belong in the same sentence as Edwin. “But yes, we have skated pairs before.”

“So cool. Crystal, would you skate with me?” Niko asked, her eyes full of stars as she turned her attention to her.

“Niko I would die for you. That being said, no,” Crystal said.

Edwin tried to tune out their playful argument as he looked back to the ice. Charles was back on, and so were Brad and Hunter. Really, the perfect recipe for disaster if recent events were to be believed.

“I didn’t bring it up,” Simon said, practically whispering in Edwin’s ear. “She brought up how long we’d known each other and skating and wouldn’t stop asking.”

Edwin knew that was likely true. It was unfortunate that Niko could be quite stubborn when it came to her questioning or ideas.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Edwin said with a shrug. “It is not as though our skating records are a secret or anything.” It also wasn’t like they skated that way anymore, nor had it ever been anything more than skating.

Yet talking about anything from before the accident made Edwin’s stomach turn.

“I can see why you wanted to keep an eye on those two,” Simon said, nodding towards the ice. “They’re brutal.”

Edwin bit his lip. So far, there had been no real altercations on the ice. A few spats here and there that were quickly dismissed and finished, but nothing like the one from the last game Edwin had attended. He knew he should feel grateful for it, that meant everyone was playing safe and nice like they should, but he couldn’t help but feel as though he were losing it a bit.

Perhaps Charles had been correct. Brad and Hunter probably were just naturally rough players in a fast game. They had probably been far too distracted with their own quarrels to stop them from hitting Charles.

Being a bad or distracted teammate was not the same as them actively wishing harm on Charles.

“That is the game, or so I have been told,” Edwin said.

Simon shuddered. “I couldn’t imagine choosing to play this sport.”

On that, Edwin and he were in agreement.

The other team managed to score, and the crowd around them booed.

“You know, that wouldn’t happen if we had some Canadian players on our team,” one of the announcers said.

“Yeah, instead we got a British boy. Aren’t they supposed to play, like, grasshoppers or something?”

“I don’t think that’s the name, but they’re definitely not known for hockey.”

Even Simon glared at the press box. “Are they always like this?” he asked.

“Usually worse, to my knowledge,” Edwin said. “You learn to tune them out. Or so I have been told.” He wasn’t sure if he believed that.

It was hard to tell, but Edwin felt as though Charles kept glancing up into the stands. Which, to be fair, he always sort of did. It just seemed like there was more to it now, though Edwin couldn’t even guess what. At one point it seemed like even Mack had turned around to look at them, though he quickly got back to the game, gently bonking Charles on the side of his helmet to get him to focus as well.

Charles rammed into another player, taking them both off their feet. Edwin felt his heart lurch into his throat as they hit the ice, his breath seeming to get knocked out of his chest as if he had been the one to get hit instead.

Simon reached over and grabbed his arm, and Edwin couldn’t tell if it was to center him or if it was to make sure he didn’t jump up.

It took less than a second for Charles to pop back up and keep moving. It was as if the whole thing had never even happened, and yet it had nearly given Edwin a heart attack.

“Christ,” Simon muttered under his breath. Edwin couldn’t find it in him to say anything.

Charles got slammed at least two more times before the end of the game, though he popped back up immediately after every time. It was as if he couldn’t even feel the hits, though whether that was because of the extra padding hockey players wore or the adrenaline pumping through him Edwin wasn’t sure.

At least they won. Edwin couldn’t imagine going through all of this and them losing.

They all agreed to wait for Charles right outside the main doors, despite the dropping temperatures. Edwin alternated between blowing warm air in his hands or shoving them deep into his hoodie pocket to keep them warm. Crystal and Niko huddled together, wrapped up in Crystal’s purple coat, and for a moment Edwin briefly considered asking to join them, before something came from behind and nearly took him off his feet.

“Eds!” Charles said, his voice loud and excited as he threw his arms around Edwin’s waist and lifted him. “Did you see that? We won!”

Edwin’s stomach did the fun, swooping sensation as Charles spun him around and put him back on his feet. He laughed as he batted at his arms, trying to get him to let him go. “Yes, yes, of course I saw you big dummy.”

The second his feet hit the ground he spun around, ready to playfully shove Charles or bat at him if necessary. He froze though, as the sight of Charles seemed to literally turn all the thoughts in his brain to warm, smooth honey.

Charles was grinning what his father would refer to as a ‘shit eating’ grin. His hair was still damp from the showers, and his bag had nearly fallen from his shoulder in all the commotion, though he seemed in no hurry to fix it. And those big, beautiful brown eyes seemed to glow as they waited for Edwin’s response.

He could feel his breath catch in his chest. He prayed it wasn’t obvious how deeply Edwin felt for Charles, but he had a feeling it was evident on his face. He had almost forgotten that the rest of them were there, that there was anyone else other than the two of them

“Congratulations on your win,” Simon said, shattering the moment.

Charles’s head jerked in his direction. “Thanks, mate,” he said. “And congrats to you, too. I heard you were aces at your competition.”

Edwin appreciated how he had sidestepped mentioning Edwin’s own lower placing at the same competition.

“So what’s the plan?” Crystal asked. “Dinner? Movie at my place?”

Edwin wondered if she factored Simon into her question.

Charles gave her a sheepish look. “Sorry, I didn’t really plan anything.” He turned to Edwin, now. “But the clothes you left at my place are clean, whenever you wanna pick them up.”

Edwin felt his cheeks burn. It was not how it sounded, but God was he aware of how it could have been. “Your hoodie is still at my place,” he said, ducking his head a slight bit.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Niko tapping the ends of her fingers together excitedly, as if this were one of her favorite shows. It was sweet, he supposed, but it left him feeling exposed, even if nothing had happened.

“We could stop by and get your things in the morning after practice,” Simon said. “If that works for Rowland.”

Charles narrowed his eyes, his whole face looking a little bit sourer than Edwin was sure he meant for it to. “Yeah,” he said. “That’s fine, if that’s what Edwin wants to do.”

Edwin felt as though he had stepped into a trap of some sort without even noticing. Like every answer he could possibly give in this conversation was wrong, and he wasn’t sure how to proceed without upsetting anyone. Or everyone.

“Why don’t you guys worry about that in the morning, and let’s focus on getting some food now,” Crystal said, coming to his rescue. “I’m starving.”

“Ooh, me too,” Niko said. “There are lots of places still open, let’s see.” She pulled out her phone and together the two of them started to read off the places that would be fine for a late dinner.

It took no time at all for them to decide on something that everyone agreed to, and truly Edwin did have to admire both Niko and Crystal’s ability to just… decide something.

Charles’s arm draped around Edwin’s shoulder, dragging him closer to him than he had been before. He was warm up against him, the adrenaline and hot shower clearly having worked wonders on keeping him warm while Edwin felt like an icicle.

He glanced at Simon without even meaning to. His expression was closed off, unreadable. Charles had slid in between them as if it were nothing, and Edwin couldn’t help but wonder if he knew what he was doing.

“So, Mack’s gonna get us the details about the Halloween party. If you wanna go, ‘course,” Charles said, seemingly oblivious to Simon’s looks. His hand tightened on Edwin’s shoulder though, even if for only a moment, and brought Edwin’s attention back to him. “We’ll need costumes though. Nothing elaborate, or anything like that. Just something.”

Edwin nodded, though he still wasn’t sold on the idea of a Halloween party. “I guess we’ll see,” he said. “I suppose it might depend. Practices and homework and, well, life.” It sounded like the cop out it was, even to his own ears, but Charles didn’t call him on it.

“Brills! Love playing it by ear,” he said, and pulled Edwin even closer to him. It seemed impossible that they could get any closer, not without wearing the same clothes or one of them carrying the other.

This was certainly a change. Charles had put his arm around him before, but usually only for a moment before letting him go again. Yet here he was, throwing his arm around and leaving it there as if he didn’t care who saw them. It reminded him of after the party, stumbling back to Charles’s place. Or of Charles climbing up onto his bed after he asked him to stay.

Edwin almost hoped Crystal and Niko chose somewhere a distance away so they would stay like this.

He only wished Simon’s eyes didn’t feel so heavy.

Notes:

So sorry about not updating last week on schedule. Everything in life sort of exploded and took a lot of my time and energy to fix lol

But to make up for it, I made an especially long chapter! so I hope you enjoyed! <3

Chapter 21: I Can't Let You Go, Can't Let You Float Away, 'Cause That Would Be A Mistake

Notes:

"It's been a while since I've felt butterflies,
do you feel the same way too?
If every single second could last that much longer,
would you hold me?
And kiss me again underneath the moonlight,
you're more than a friend,
I knew it from the first sight
[..]
Crack a smile, I just can't lose,
at a mile a minute my heart beats to the limit when I'm with you,
so kiss me again underneath the moonlight,
you're more than a friend,"
- Kiss Me Again (ft. Alex Gaskarth) by We Are The In Crowd)

On the list of things Charles wanted to do after his game “hanging out with Simon Cavendish” would probably be at the very bottom of it. The only reason why it would exist on it at all was because being near Simon likely offered two things: a chance to be near Edwin, and a chance to punch Simon in his smarmy face.

But Edwin had asked if Simon could come to his game, and Charles hadn’t really been able to say no. It was a public event, if Simon wanted to attend he could, and it was not like it really made a difference to Charles whether Simon was there or not.

But it had bothered him every single time he’d looked up in those stands and saw Simon leaning into Edwin’s space, their knees nearly pressed together while they inched towards each other to talk.

He’d even seen the way Edwin had stormed off, leaving Simon staring after him at the end of the first period. He wasn’t entirely sure what that was about yet, but he’d figure it out one way or another. His goal, for the moment, was just to make sure Simon understood that Charles had Edwin’s back. No matter what the issue was. If it took him swinging a hockey stick or shouting from the rooftops or even just getting in between them, Charles would do it.

He kept his arm around Edwin’s shoulders as they walked to the restaurant. Niko and Crystal had picked one, though he wasn’t entirely sure what it was. It hadn’t mattered to him, as long as Edwin was going to be there.

And Edwin was there. He tucked him in a bit closer as he ran through some of the plays from the game, asking Edwin if he’d seen them or what he thought in general. Edwin, for his part, was rather quiet, though he did admit that he had liked it when Fossy, or Foster as Edwin insisted on calling him, scored a goal right between a goalie’s legs.

“It was awesome, wasn’t it?” Charles asked, jostling Edwin’s shoulders. Edwin couldn’t help but laugh as Charles insisted on him admitting that it had been ‘awesome, say it, Edwin!’

“It was ‘awesome,’” Edwin said between laughs. “There, are you happy, you brute?”

Charles could feel himself beaming at him. “Never better!”

Edwin rolled his eyes and gently shook him off. It felt much colder without Edwin pressed up against his side, but they were nearly to the restaurant where it would hardly matter.

“What about you, Simon?” he asked, making the conscious effort to keep his tone light. “What’d you think of your first hockey game?”

Simon pursed his lips together, his face highlighted by passing headlights. Charles wondered if he would have been able to see the brief look of contempt cross his face if the car hadn’t gone by. Or if his posture alone would have been enough for him to have understood it.

“It was all rather quick,” Simon said. “Far quicker than I thought two hours would pass by.”

He turned his words over, trying to see if there was not only an insult in there, but that it had been intended. He was almost sure that he had, but he couldn’t prove it.

“I always liked hockey games better than football games,” Crystal said. “American football, that is. It moves so much quicker.”

Niko nodded, though Charles knew she had never seen a single American football game before. Now didn’t seem like the time to call her on it.

“Hell, they even move faster than figure skating competitions, and you guys are only on the ice for a few minutes at a time,” she said, gesturing to Edwin and Simon.

“A lot of training goes into those ‘few minutes,’ Crystal,” Simon said haughtily.

“Oh believe me, I’m aware. You and Edwin never let me forget it,” she said. It was obvious from her tone alone that she was gearing up to go off on another tangent or rant, and no matter how much Charles wanted to see her tear Simon a new one, he knew that it wouldn’t be useful to Edwin.

Charles, ever the gentleman, darted in front of everyone as they reached the restaurant, and opened the door. He pointedly looked at Simon, hoping he understood that he was being called out for his lack of speed on doing such a thing, and the fact that Charles had just saved him from Crystal.

“Ooh, how chivalrous,” Niko teased as she walked by him.

He grinned especially wide at Edwin. “Hear that, mate? Chivalrous.”

Edwin, for his part, only rolled his eyes as he walked through the door. Simon did the same, though Charles found it infinitely less charming when he did it.

Charles quickly stepped in front of Simon, forcing his way into the booth immediately after Edwin. Like hell he was going to let Simon sit next to him.

Simon rolled his eyes and pulled up a chair from one of the nearby tables. At least this way he didn’t have to sit next to Charles or Crystal.

“S’mazing, mate,” Charles said, as if he hadn’t just cut Simon off. He hardly even knew what Edwin had started talking about with Niko, just that he was talking about some author Charles was sure he was supposed to have read something from this semester.

Edwin blinked at him and then Simon. “Yes, I suppose it is,” he said, his eyes narrowing.

Charles grinned and put his arms on the back of the booth. It had the benefit of making himself look bigger and placing that arm back around Edwin, where it had been for the majority of their walk over.

“He wasn’t listening,” Simon said.

“Was too,” Charles answered. Like he was four-years-old and battling it out on the playground with someone. Really, he was a step above sticking his tongue out at him and blowing raspberries.

“It hardly matters,” Edwin said. For a moment, Charles wondered if he had hurt Edwin’s feelings by not listening to him, but the look on his face quickly reassured him that it was fine. “I imagine Charles is more focused on dinner than anything else.”

And for that Edwin was half correct. He was starving, and that was taking up most of his attention, but there was almost nothing that could truly take all of his attention away from Edwin.

“Can you blame a guy for working up an appetite?” Charles asked, stretching.

“God, boys are like bottomless pits,” Crystal said. “I’ll never understand how you can eat so much and still be hungry.”

Charles flexed his arms, though they were still slightly restricted by his hoodie. “It’s all these muscles. They don’t come for free, you know.”

Crystal snorted, and if it had been anyone else it might have hurt his feelings. But with her, or even Edwin, it felt like a good kind of teasing. Still, that didn’t mean he liked the amused look on Simon’s face at the joke.

It took a surprisingly short amount of time to get their food ordered, and all Charles could think was that the sooner this was over the better. He wasn’t sure exactly what the plans were for afterwards, but he could only hope that they didn’t involve Simon.

He tried to ignore the way Simon’s eyes seemed to linger on him, the way he seemed to be watching every move he and Edwin made as if he were a hawk about to attack. Part of it was just how he tended to look, all sharp eyes and upset expressions, while the other part of Charles knew that he was genuinely watching the two of them, though he had yet to entirely figure out why.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Simon didn’t like him, that he didn’t trust him for whatever reason. His words outside the rink the other day rang in his head, “You wanna help Edwin? Do him a favor? Then stay out of his life.”

He could feel Edwin next to him in the seat, see the way his leg would occasionally brush against Charles’s before pulling back slightly, before eventually even that stopped and they sat, side by side with their legs pressed up against each other. It felt natural, as if this was the way they should have always sat, their long legs on the same side of the booth, with Niko and Crystal’s shorter legs across from them.

Nowhere in this perfect scenario was Simon, but Charles ignored that. He could play nice for one night. Charles was brills with people! For whatever reason, fate had decided that Edwin and Simon were going to be stuck together in some way or another, and so Charles was just going to have to accept that. Which he could do! He bet with time he could even get Simon to like him!

Okay, so he likely wouldn’t be making that bet out loud, but still, the thought was there. There had been very few people that he’d met in his life that he couldn’t charm one way or another.

“So Simon,” Charles said. “How’re you liking the school?”

All eyes turned towards Simon, waiting to see what he would say. Charles almost felt bad about putting him on the spot, but a quick reminder of Edwin’s stiffened form next to him kept him from feeling that bad.

“It’s alright,” he said. “Good programs, fine classes.”

Charles nodded. It hadn’t exactly been the answer he was looking for, though it was almost the exact one he had expected.

“Done anything cool yet? Clubs, meetings, that sorta thing?” he asked. Next to him Edwin was bumping his leg into his, almost like a warning or a question that Charles ignored.

“No. Skating truly does take up all my time. Well, that and classes,” he said, once again far more pointedly than Charles felt like he had any right to. As if he were reminding him that he took these things seriously, as opposed to Charles. And possibly Edwin.

Edwin seemed to deflate even more, a sure sign that he had noticed his tone as well.

“Not all there is, though, is it?” Charles challenged. He knew he should let it go, that getting into it with Simon was the exact opposite of what he was supposed to be doing, but it was just so easy to pick a fight with him. “Gotta live some, too.”

Unlike Edwin, who was fun and delightful to rile up, Simon was like waving a red flag in front of a bull until it charged. Charles wasn’t sure if he or Simon was supposed to be the bull in this scenario, but he would take either one.

Crystal glared at him, which he ignored. Nothing wrong with annoying a prick, was there?

“As long as your priorities are straight, I think you can do both,” Simon said, his tone carefully neutral in a way that only served to piss Charles off more. It reminded him of his dad, who would piss him off until he snapped or lost his cool, and then use that as an excuse to punish him. “You just have to have the right priorities.”

“My priorities are food,” Niko said, leaning around Crystal. “Do you see our waiter?”

Neither Simon nor Charles moved to look, while Edwin chose to turn and stare out the window. A sharp kick hit his shins under the table, and a quick glance to the other side told him it must have been Crystal.

“Ow,” he said. She gave him an equally sharp smile that let him know she’d do it again if they kept this up. He wanted to call her out, to ask why she wasn’t kicking Simon, when their waiter suddenly appeared with their food.

Dinner was quiet after that, which was strange because Charles was almost sure he’d never had a meal this silent with Edwin, Niko, or Crystal. Not even the meal after Edwin’s competition, where he had been nearly catatonic on the couch, had been this quiet. He wondered if everyone could hear him chew, even with his mouth closed. If they could hear how hard he had to swallow with his dry throat as the image of Edwin so sad and upset flashed through his mind.

Charles lifted a few of his chips from his plate and dropped them onto Edwin’s, the same way he’d seen Crystal do that night in the arcade. It was something he’d seen her do a few times now, and even if Edwin didn’t eat them, he at least seemed to appreciate the gesture.

Surprise covered his face as he picked one of them up. He didn’t even inspect it like he usually did, just ate it without even thinking about it. “Thank you,” he said quietly, the first real words he’d said since they sat down.

Charles tried not to let it go to his head in front of Simon. It felt like bragging, even if it had been over something so stupid.

Stupid, maybe, but he didn’t see Simon offering Edwin anything or Edwin thanking him.

Slowly, the conversations picked back up, with Crystal and Niko mainly leading them. Plans of the upcoming week, whether or not the girls wanted to do some sort of joint costume for Halloween, if Edwin still had some things from their childhood in his townhouse that Crystal could use for said costumes, and on and on. Even Edwin seemed to get into the conversations, though he was much more subdued than he usually was.

It was strange watching him interact with Simon around. It reminded him of the way he’d been when they first met, short, snappish, or just generally… not there.

He didn’t like it, though there was very little he could do about it.

Once dinner was over everyone agreed to walk the girls back to Crystal’s place, as no one wanted them to walk alone. Crystal rolled her eyes and told them she had a taser and pepper spray, and she socked Edwin in the arm when he said she was more likely to hit Niko with both of those than her attacker and said, “How’s that for aim?”

Edwin rubbed his arm with a sour look but had wisely chosen to keep quiet. Charles, meanwhile, couldn’t stop grinning.

But now it had come time for the decision Crystal had delayed earlier: what did Edwin want to do? Did he want to grab his things from Charles’s place or pick them up in the morning?

“I’ll walk ya home either way,” he assured. Then, because he wasn’t sure where exactly that left Simon in this equation, he turned to look at him. “And you, too, I guess.”

Charles had never understood the word glowered until he saw the look on Simon’s face. He was sure if looks could kill, Simon would have killed him right there on the sidewalk.

“Why don’t we just walk you home?” he asked. “I live closer to Edwin, anyways. I can walk him home.”

“I can walk myself home, thank you for asking,” Edwin spat, interrupting them. He walked between them, splitting their conversation right through the middle and that was that. Both of them turned to follow him, neither one of them saying anything until they reached campus.

Frowning, Charles quickly fell into step with Edwin. “Is your leg bothering you?” Charles asked, watching as Edwin shifted next to him. The change in his gait was minor, but Charles had long since committed the way he walked to memory. Easily, he slid an arm around Edwin’s shoulder, both in an attempt at some privacy to their conversation and to offer support if Edwin needed it.

Edwin shook his head, though the stiffness of his position seemed to argue with him, however, as he leaned a bit more into Charles. He tried not to notice the way his heart skipped along, a strange out of rhythm beat the closer Edwin got to him.

Simon hovered far closer than he had been, though he said nothing. Charles wasn’t even sure what the point was if he wasn’t going to say or do anything to help him.

“We can rest here, if you want,” Charles said, gesturing to some of the benches not too far off, grateful that campus was full of them.

“It’s freezing,” Edwin said. “It would be better to hurry home. I do not want you or Simon to have to stay out here because of me.”

As if there was any way Charles would leave him out here alone. Or worse, with Simon.

Making an executive decision, Charles turned to Simon and gestured. “Why don’t you head on home? I’ll make sure Edwin gets back safe,” he said.

He was almost sure that Edwin would argue, at least say that he was fine, he could get himself back, or that he didn’t need Charles to speak for him or some other well articulated point about his abilities and free will, but he didn’t. In fact, he almost seemed to sigh as he leaned a bit further into Charles.

Simon looked to Edwin. “I’m fine waiting,” he said.

Edwin sighed, this time loud enough that Charles was sure he’d done it.

“This is all pointless,” Edwin said. “I can walk myself home, we are all cold, and my leg is fine.” He stepped forward, clearly intending to show exactly how fine he was, when he wobbled just enough that Charles felt the need to leap forward and hold on to him.

“Easy there,” he said and hoped it sounded charming and not like he was calming a spooked horse or scared dog. Edwin’s hand gripped his as he gritted his teeth together, and Charles wondered how long Edwin would have pretended he was fine if he hadn’t asked.

Or how many times Edwin had pretended he was fine before because Charles didn’t know to ask.

“Sit, sit,” he said, as he ushered him to a bench. He wasn’t alone as he knelt down in front of Edwin, trying to check if he was alright, he realized, and nearly snapped as Simon moved to grab onto Edwin’s other hand. Which he failed to grab, as Edwin quickly set his hand on his leg as if that might somehow help him.

“What did it this time?” Simon asked.

Charles glared at him, ready to shove him back if he didn’t back up. What, was he blaming Edwin for this?

Edwin let out a shaky breath. “The cold?” he guessed.

“Could’ve been the stairs, too,” Simon said, and Edwin nodded.

“Yes, I suppose.”

Charles wanted to call bullshit on that. That he had seen Edwin move up and down the stands all day long during certain training sessions, that he had seen him skate until he was sure his feet must be bleeding, there was no way a couple of trips up and down the stairs had bothered him this much.

But then again, that was when Edwin was regularly training. And Edwin had expressed before that he felt like he got worse when he wasn’t training, a point Charles had doubted before, but now it seemed as if there was at least a bit of proof right here in front of him.

Charles glanced around them. It was late, and there was hardly anyone else out walking. He didn’t have a car, and even if he did he wasn’t sure he would be able to convince Edwin to get in. Edwin’s place wasn’t too far away, but the idea of making Edwin walk at all on a hurt leg made Charles want to be sick.

Sighing, he turned his back to Edwin. “Climb on,” he said.

He could feel the confused looks from Simon and Edwin drilling into him. “I’m sorry?” Edwin asked, clearly not understanding.

“Climb on. I’ll carry you back to my place,” he said and patted his sides where he wanted Edwin to stick his legs.

“Oh, I am not doing that,” Edwin said at the same time Simon said, “What are you, five?”

Charles huffed and bounced on the balls of his feet as he tried to stay balanced. “Come on, you guys. All of this’ll go so much faster if you just let me carry you.”

“Carry me!?” Edwin nearly shrieked, as if it had just really occurred to him what he was intending to do. Charles risked a glance over his shoulder and smiled at the look of complete and utter… bewilderment on his face.

“Yeah, mate. A piggyback ride, just like kids do,” he said, then glanced at Simon, who he could not imagine had ever received or given a piggyback ride. “Or, well. Some kids do.”

Both of them muttered something along the lines of “ridiculous” or “insane” or– and he was fairly certain this one was just Simon, “arsehole.”

“Look, it’s this or I carry you like this,” he said, holding his arms out in front of him. He refused to call it the only term he had for it, which was bridal carry because he was fairly certain it might be a race between Edwin and Simon to see which one of them would punch him first.

“Why are you carrying me at all!?” Edwin asked. “I can walk! This is so completely asinine and absurd that I really don’t know…”

Charles watched as he seemed to run out of steam, as all of his jostling and moving had upset his leg. It was only a matter of time before he gave in, Charles knew, and he only wished that they could skip all of this and just get on with it.

“This really isn’t necessary,” Edwin said, his voice far quieter than it had been. He glanced at Simon out of the corner of his eye, his head turned down, and Charles wished that he could read that expression.

He sighed. “Look, Edwin, I know that you’re strong, alright? You’re far tougher than me any day of the week, you could walk through Hell and back smiling, yada yada yada. But you don’t have to do any of that, because I’m offering to help you. So take the help?”

Edwin looked at him, and Charles forced himself to focus on Edwin and his reactions and not the lurking form of Simon hanging out over their shoulders. He could almost see the moment that Edwin gave in, the way he sighed and slumped just the slightest bit forward, before moving to the edge of the bench.

“I have no clue how I am even supposed to go about this,” he said, all prim and proper and stuffy as ever.

“Don’t worry, I gotcha,” he said. He crouched down again, and gestured for where Edwin should put his legs, how he should put his arms, and then he counted to three and picked him up.

Edwin let out a yelp as Charles rose up, nearly unseating himself in the process. It was only thanks to Charles’s quick movements and Edwin’s scrambling arms around his neck that he managed to stay upright.

Simon hovered, his hands on Edwin’s back. “Christ, are you trying to kill him?” he asked.

Charles wanted to swing around, to glare at him, but he wasn’t sure Edwin would hold on. He also didn’t have the breath to do it, considering Edwin’s arms were wrapped around his neck.

“Lighten up, mate,” he said. “The shoulders.” He tapped Edwin’s arm with his chin so he could understand what he meant, and was grateful as he adjusted his hold so he was no longer choking the life out of him.

He glanced at his hockey bag he’d dropped on the ground in his haste to make sure Edwin was okay. There really was no way to carry it and Edwin, but leaving either one of them wasn’t an option. He could always ask Simon to put the bag on Edwin, and then carry both of them, but he wasn’t sure Edwin could hold on in the process.

“Oh, for the love of God,” Simon said, as he seemed to realize the same issue. “I would have carried him if I knew it would have turned into this whole thing.” He marched over and snatched Charles’s bag up from the ground and put it on his own shoulders.

“I don’t need carried,” Edwin said.

Simon rolled his eyes. “No, that’s why you’re on Rowland’s back, huh?”

Edwin fell silent. Charles did too, as there was nothing he could say that wouldn’t likely lead to another fight, and he couldn’t exactly do that with Edwin on his back.

“My place isn’t too far,” Charles said. “You can stay the night. Or until your leg feels better.” He hefted Edwin up higher, making sure he wouldn’t slide as he started talking. Despite the muscles and enormous amount of sass he knew Edwin was capable of, he was surprisingly light as they started walking.

He wasn’t sure he could have carried him all the way back to his place, but he could at least carry him to Charles’s.

Edwin’s fingers dug into his shoulders, though he couldn’t tell if it was from pain or nervousness from being carried. He wanted to reassure him, to tell him that he wasn’t going to drop him and that everything would be fine, but the odds of Simon overhearing and saying something smart were too high.

Charles wanted Edwin to be able and reach out when he needed help, not to push it down into a box and ignore it. And maybe this was overkill, Edwin almost certainly didn’t need carried and could have probably even walked all the way back to his house on his leg, but what did any of that matter? Maybe Charles wanted to go overboard for Edwin. Maybe he wanted to carry Edwin home and make sure he was okay.

It was Charles’s winning game night, and if he wanted to carry his friend in a piggy back ride, then he felt like he had a right to.

The process of getting the three of them up the stairs was more of a struggle than he cared to admit, though he didn’t drop Edwin once. His fingers had eventually even relaxed on him, until they were merely securing him to Charles and not digging in like something might physically drag them away from each other.

Simon did have to unlock the door, which Charles wasn’t proud of.

“Your dorm is a mess,” he observed from the doorway.

Charles huffed as he made his way inside and eased Edwin onto the bed he’d slept on the night before. It was still made up for him, as if it were just waiting for him to come back to it.

Simon’s eyes narrowed as he took in the bed, though he said nothing. Charles wondered if it was better or worse for him to see the twin-sized mattress Edwin slept on when he spent the night with him.

“Thanks for the help mate,” Charles said, taking his bag from him. “But I got it from here.”

Simon glared and turned towards Edwin. “Edwin?”

Edwin looked like a deer caught in headlights. “It’s alright, Simon,” Edwin said. “I will see you in the morning, for practice?”

No one moved, no one said a word. The air felt tense, like just before a thunderstorm. All of that potential energy locked in the air around them, just waiting for something to approach so it could strike.

“Yeah,” Simon said, nodding his head. He didn’t even break eye contact with Edwin as he backed up. “If you show up.”

And with that, he turned and walked away.

Charles wanted to drag him back by his stupid, dumb hair and make him apologize to Edwin, but the look on Edwin’s face told him it would be pointless.

“I suppose I deserved that,” Edwin said.

Charles wanted to argue, but he didn’t think that Edwin would listen.

“Forget him,” he said. He looked around his room for something to do, something to distract either one of them from the dark cloud that had seemed to settle over Edwin after all of this. “Wanna watch another episode of that detective show?”

Edwin smiled. “The one that was so terrible you said, ‘I wish someone would kill me instead?’” Edwin asked.

“Nah, I’m pretty sure you said that,” he said, smiling. He grabbed his laptop and settled in next to Edwin on the bed, making sure to leave just enough space so he wouldn’t crowd him.

Charles wasn’t an idiot. It had taken him some thinking, but once he’d done that it was obvious what had sent Edwin into a frenzy the night before. He should have thought about how it sounded, flirting with him and then bringing him home and laying out next to him on the bed. That it might have sounded like he wanted to do… other things with Edwin, and how he might have felt like Charles was forcing him in either direction.

He hadn’t been. There was no way in hell Charles ever could have done that, but that didn’t always change how someone felt about something or how they perceived it. So, rather than curl up right next to Edwin like he wanted to do, he set the laptop between them and pressed play.

It took two episodes before Edwin started to doze off. In that time, Edwin himself had moved the laptop around so he could lean more comfortably against Charles and the wall behind them. He wished that they could stay like that, in whatever way Edwin was comfortable with, but he knew they couldn’t. Not only would Edwin regret it, but Charles probably would, too.

“Night, Edwin,” he said once they’d settled into their own respective beds.

“Goodnight, Charles,” Edwin said, and Charles could hear the smile in his voice.

At least this night had gone much better than the night before.

XXX

The next morning, Charles was surprised to wake up to his phone ringing rather than Edwin’s alarm. In a panic, he rolled over and nearly slapped his phone off the bed in his haste to answer it. He looked at the screen, and his heart nearly stopped beating again.

It was the one person Charles never expected to call him, and the one person he knew would always ruin his day.

“Hey, dad,” he said, trying not to raise his voice too loud. If he did he might wake Edwin, and that could potentially open so many questions he wasn’t sure he was ready to deal with.

“Been a while since I’ve heard from you,” his dad said. “Wanted to make sure you were still alive.”

Charles tried to smile, to let his words be a joke like he would anyone else. “Yeah, jus’ really busy with school.” He debated stepping out into the hallway, but he couldn’t decide which was worse: Edwin overhearing this conversation or his dorm floor-mates.

In the end, he chose to step out.

“So busy you couldn’t even call your old man?” he asked, a familiar challenge to his tone.

Even an ocean away it sent a shiver down Charles’s spine.

“No, sir,” he said. “You’re right, I really shoulda called sooner.”

“‘Course I’m right,” he said gruffly. There was a sort of muffled sound over the phone that probably meant he was changing hands. Or setting him down, balancing him on the microwave like he sometimes did when he was in the kitchen. Charles wasn’t sure why, but his dad loved to set the phone down while he talked on it.

“So how’s hockey going?” he asked. The real reason he was calling finally coming forward.

“S’great! We’ve won most of our games this season, so it’s great,” he said.

“Big change from last year,” his dad said, reminding Charles of the losing streak his team had been on before.

Charles kicked at the hallway carpet in front of him. Who even put carpet in a place like this? The amount of people he’d seen spill shit or puke on it was astounding. But at least it helped absorb the sound.

“Yeah, pretty big. Coach Nurse is working us pretty hard,” he said.

“Good,” his dad snapped, all rough and brutal like belts snapping or fists flying. “Boys like you all really need a firm hand. I can’t believe he didn’t do it sooner.”

Charles swallowed the saliva that had gathered in this mouth, choking slightly as it went down. “Coach Nurse is a woman,” he said, though he wasn’t sure why he insisted on arguing.

It probably had to do with the ocean between them.

“Didn’t even know they let women teach things like that,” he said. Teach. Not coach. “Shouldn’t she be with the girls or something? Figure skating, making–what do they call them? Figure eights or something?”

It wasn’t worth it to point out how sought after Coach Nurse was. That she was one of the meanest, roughest, and strictest coaches out there who had brought her own fair share of teams up from nothing before. She was like an underdogs dream.

He ignored his dad’s comment about figure skating, too. It was just another thing that wasn’t worth fighting about.

“Yeah, I guess. She’s pretty good though,” he said. It was all a lose-lose situation. If he fought his dad on this he would never hear the end of it and likely pay for it the next time he saw him. If he didn’t, then he’d run the risk of his dad shit talking his coach more and thinking she wasn’t worth Charles’s “skills,” which usually resulted in his dad wanting to pull him from something.

Not that he could pull him from college, but still. It wasn’t worth it.

None of this was.

“Well, I guess you guys must have really needed it if she was able to step in,” he said, and Charles could tell that the argument likely wasn’t over. Just set aside. “How’re classes going?”

Charles let out a small, quick sigh. “Great! Yeah, I have been, y’know, really learning a lot,” he said.

“Well, I would hope so. Otherwise what was the point in running away from your mum and me?” he asked. Sort of laughing, like it was a joke, though neither one of them found it very funny. Charles had since grown used to guilt trips, the feeling that he had let both his dad and his mum down by going to school in the States.

He had run away, he supposed. But could anyone really blame him? When his dad was the alternative?

“Hm, yeah,” Charls said, unsure what else he should say. There always came a point in time during these calls where he knew he should say something, but he was never sure what.

“How’s–what’s their names? Brad and Hunter? How’re they?” his dad asked.

Charles banged his head back against the hallway wall. “They’re great!” he said, and then wondered how many times he could say the word ‘great’ before it stopped having any meaning at all. Surely he hadn’t reached that point yet. “Lots of practices, lots of hanging out.”

“Good, good,” his dad said, and Charles could practically see him nodding over the phone. He must have stepped away, still distracted by whatever he was doing at home at the moment. “Are they gonna finally come home with you this Christmas?”

Charles nearly bit through his tongue to keep himself from saying something stupid. There was no way in Hell they were going to come home with him. Hell, Charles wasn’t even sure he was going to be able to make it home, much less two of his friends.

“Uh, maybe. You know how some people get about holidays,” he said, trailing off. It was the closest he could get to not giving his dad an answer.

“Anyone else you might wanna bring home?” his dad asked. “Is that Niko girl coming home, too?”

Charles sighed. His dad had known Niko for years, and yet every single time it was like he had just learned her name. He wasn’t even sure why he was asking about her, other than the fact that she was one of the only other things he knew about his life to ask about. “Nah, she’s going home to Japan over break, remember?” he asked. Or he was fairly certain she was.

“Right. Well, there’s still time,” his dad said. As if he might suddenly find someone else to bring home with him.

The image of Edwin standing in his family kitchen sprung into his mind. He could almost see him perfectly standing there, next to his mum while she made tea and talked his ear off about figure skating or literature or, hell, maybe even reality TV. He knew Edwin would like his mum, that despite his prickly edges and waspish tones, he would likely fall for her charms just as fast as he had fallen for Niko’s.

And his mum would probably love Edwin, too. It was hard to imagine anyone who wouldn’t instantly fall for him. She would probably spend half of his visit trying to fatten Edwin up, claiming that he was “too skinny, it’s worrying,” the same way she had done to Charles his whole life. And God help him if she ever heard about his sleeping schedule or about his pain med avoidance. There is no way either one of those things would slide with her.

His dad sniffed and clattered around in one of the cabinets, ruining the image.

He couldn’t have his mum without his dad, too. And he could already hear what his dad would say about Edwin. The things he would say about him figure skating, being… “like that,” or the bitchy way he talked sometimes.

There was no world in which Paul Rowland met Edwin Payne and things didn’t go catastrophically wrong.

“Well,” his dad said, trailing off. “Call your mum when you get a chance. She misses you.”

Charles nodded, though he knew he couldn’t see him. “For sure, yeah. I will.” He didn’t point out that he actually did call his mum pretty regularly. He just did it when his dad wasn’t around.

The door to his room opened, and a sleepy, disheveled looking Edwin leaned out. It was almost too much to have this conversation with his dad while looking at Edwin like that.

“Charles?” Edwin asked.

“Hey, dad, I gotta go. Early practices and all that. But I’ll definitely call more, and I’ll figure out the whole winter break thing,” he said, rushing through his goodbyes.

Edwin raised an eyebrow at him as he hung up the phone. “Are you alright?” Edwin asked.

He flashed him a quick grin, brushing off the previous conversation. “Yeah, no. Let’s go get your stuff for practice. Your leg good?”

He could tell that Edwin didn’t want to let it go, but he did. At least for now.

Charles had never been more grateful.

XXX

It almost felt like coming home to step into Crystal’s rink a couple of days later with Edwin. According to Edwin he had been cleared, not only by Coach King but by the school, to start up his training again, and Charles was practically vibrating with excitement to get back to their normal schedules.

He missed sharing dinner with him, eating on the benches between practices, watching him skate. He even missed doing homework in the rink while Edwin went around and around, the comforting sounds of his skates gliding over the ice while he repeated his routines again and again so soothing in a way Charles hadn’t truly known he’d missed until now.

He wondered if it felt the same for Edwin. Like all of the past couple of weeks had been a sort of nightmare haze that they were finally waking up from. Now they could focus on sliding back into their normal routine, the way things used to be.

With some minor adjustments, of course.

For one, neither Edwin nor Charles even tried to pretend like they weren’t actively friends or hanging out with each other between routine runs. Or like their meetups in the coffeeshop was anything less than a planned event. It really went a long way in making sure that they saw each other as much as they could, something he at least liked to think Edwin enjoyed as much as he did.

Edwin finished up one round of his routines, his skates cutting the ice far deeper than Charles was sure he had intended. But he ended gracefully, his arms wrapped around himself in a way that Charles couldn’t help but wonder how it felt when Edwin did that to someone with intention. And not just because he needed stability during a piggy back ride.

“Beautiful!” Charles called out. “Fantastic, wonderful! Ten out of ten!”

Even from a distance he could hear Edwin snort. He dropped his arms to his side and turned to look at Charles, the smile that spread across his face as real and as genuine as they ever got from Edwin.

“Thank you,” he said, raising his voice to be heard across the rink. “I did not realize you were judging me.”

“Tens across the board!” Charles said, waving his arms.

Another laugh seemed to bubble up out of Edwin in that shocked way it always seemed to sneak up on him. Charles thought it was a shame that he seemed surprised to laugh.

“Ready for a break?” he asked, gesturing to where he had set up their dinner.

Edwin hesitated, looking back out across the ice like the answer might be out there. “Perhaps one more run?” he asked.

It was an old excuse. One more run would turn into two and three, and before you knew it he would have been going for ages and he would have forgotten to eat dinner.

“One more,” he said. “And I mean it. I’ll come out on the ice and get you if I have to.”

He didn’t need to see Edwin’s eyes to know he was rolling them. “Yes, fine,” he said before cueing his music back up. Charles couldn’t help but watch as Edwin went around and around, skating as if his life depended on it. His jumps seemed to be getting sturdier the longer he went on, but Charles knew that there would come a point in time during the night where he’d either hit a plateau or come crashing down.

Hopefully, Charles would stop him before he got there.

But there really was so much beauty in the way Edwin skated. His long limbs bending and flowing, the way he seemed to always know the exact right amount of momentum to build up before a jump or a spin, the way he could practically fling himself around to get where he needed to before jumping right back up.

It was beautiful. Charles didn’t care if Edwin ever made it to the Olympics or not, he knew that there would never be a better skater than him. If he could give Edwin tens across the board then he really would in an instant.

That is, if they even used tens. Charles wasn’t exactly sure how they scored figure skating. It was something he intended to find out, but hadn’t just yet, much like everything else about figure skating. Aside from the flowers and the bears, that much he was pretty sure about.

By the time Edwin finished his next round of routines, their dinners had grown cold and Charles was sure he was about to gnaw his own arm off in hunger. Thankfully, Edwin didn’t put up much of a fight when it came to getting him off the ice this time.

They settled in, Charles sitting with one leg on each side of the bench so he could better face Edwin while they ate. “So, have you thought about the Halloween party?” Charles asked, taking a huge bite from his burrito. “It’s Saturday.”

“I’m afraid I can’t,” Edwin said. “While I disagree with many points brought against me, it has been brought to my attention that I have become rather… distracted with things lately. And as a result my work, both in school and training has been a little lax.”

Charles wondered if Edwin was letting Simon’s words get to him. Now Charles regretted even the little bit of effort he had put towards being nice to him.

“That’s fair,” Charles said. He wanted to say ‘there’s always next year,’ but that felt too presumptuous.

“I hope you have fun, though,” Edwin said. “Don’t let me hold you back from your party or friends.”

There was something about the way Edwin said that, both genuine and pointed, that made Charles want to call him out on it. It wouldn’t do any good, he knew, but it was hard to break old habits.

“Oi, you’re my friend, too,” Charles said. “‘Sides, I like hanging out with you. Even when you’re training, when you’re doing homework, even when you’re arguing with the TV– or sleeping in front of it, more likely.”

Edwin looked absolutely fond as he snorted. “I do not argue with the TV.”

“You do, actually. A lot during whatever that detective show was,” he said.

“Well, they were getting a lot wrong, were they not?”

Charles shook his head. “I didn’t say I didn’t like it,” he said. “Just that you did it.” He actually really liked it when Edwin did it. It was cute, and it was nice to see him passionate about something that wasn’t skating.

Edwin sipped his water as he thought this over. “Seriously, Charles. I do not want you to miss out just because I am unable to attend.”

“Wouldn’t be much fun without you,” Charles said and was almost surprised how much he meant it.

Edwin chewed on his lip. “Perhaps I might be able to stop in. Just for a short while.”

“I don’t want you to stress about this, Edwin,” he said. He took another bite from his burrito and gave Edwin a pointed look at his own food in front of him, prompting him to take another bite.

“And I do not want you to miss out on anything,” Edwin said, though he at least had the decency to load up his fork with more rice.

They stared at each other, clearly at an impasse. “Fine. What if we keep playing it by ear? We’ll go through the week, assuming that we’re not going to go, and if somehow we get a lot more done than we thought we would, we show up?”

The thoughts were practically visible as he considered Charles’s words. “I suppose that could work,” he said. Then, he smiled and nudged Charles with his foot. “Look at us, making a choice without even having to bet anything.”

Charles nudged him back. “We always could. Just for old time’s sake.”

Edwin shook his head. “No, I think I would like the choice to attend this one.”

Those words felt important, even though Charles wasn’t sure exactly how. “Choice is yours,” he said. “It always is.”

XXX

In the end, Edwin called him a few short hours before the party was set to begin. “I know it is short notice, but I have decided,” he said. “Is it too late for us to go?”

Charles had nearly fallen straight off his bed in his haste to sit up. “‘Course not! That’s perfect!”

The other end was quiet for a moment. “Excellent. Are we… supposed to have costumes? This is a Halloween party, correct?” Edwin asked.

Fuck, yeah. That was true. All of the ideas for costumes Charles had had before went up in smoke as he realized there was only a handful of hours before it would start. Not nearly enough time to create anything really special. And every shop in town was probably sold out of anything worth dressing as.

“Yeah, shit,” Charles cursed, climbing down off his bed. “I sorta forgot about that part. Well, I didn’t forget, I guess, I just didn’t plan anything.” He spun in place, trying to see anything he could make into a quick costume. There had to be something he could use.

“Ah,” Edwin said. “Is there anything I could help with?”

Charles’s mind flashed to the spare linen closet he was sure he’d seen at Edwin’s place. “Actually, do you have any extra sheets?”

X

Max’s was busy, practically teeming with people flowing in and out of the bar. He could see the back door was propped open, the patio full of people despite the low temperatures. Jared, the bouncer, seemed to have his work cut out for him as he held ID after ID up to people dressed in all sorts of costumes, trying to confirm they were who they claimed they were.

He nudged Edwin, to make sure he stayed with him as they made their way through a group of people and up to the door.

“Looks pretty busy tonight,” Charles said.

“Don’t give me any shit, Rowland,” Jared said. “Take off the sheet.”

Charles did, rolling his eyes. “How could you tell it was me?” he asked.

Jared gave him a look that said, really? “I’d recognize that voice anywhere,” he said. Then, he turned to Edwin, and gestured to him. “Who’s this?”

“Edwin,” Charles said. “We came here a few weeks ago.”

“You know how many people I see in a night, Rowland? You think I remember your little friend from one interaction?” He held his hand out for Edwin’s ID, which Edwin handed over without protest. “Sheet off.”

Edwin didn’t move. Charles could feel him glance at him, as if he were asking for help, though Charles couldn’t figure out why. They had made their costumes together, spread out across Edwin’s living room, though he had insisted on getting dressed separately.

“Come on, it’s such a pain to put these things back on,” Charles said, waving his sheet and sunglasses back and forth.

“It’s a fucking sheet, not rocket science,” Jared said. Still, neither Edwin nor Charles moved. “Fucking fine, I don’t care. But if I hear any trouble from either of you, you’re out.”

“Cheers!” Charles said and slapped him on the shoulder. “Let’s get in there!”

Edwin followed along after Charles, his sheeted form just as silent as the actual ghost he was supposed to be. He wished they would have had more time to come up with something other than a couple of sheets with some eye holes cut out in it and sunglasses, but then again, what was more Halloween than a ghost?

“Hey, you made it!” Mack greeted them. Once again he seemed pretty happy to see them there, a fact that reassured Charles about bringing Edwin around. He turned his head, the tri-cone hat and wig on his head nearly falling off in the process. “I’m gonna guess the little ghost next to you is Edwin?”

In no world would Charles have referred to Edwin as “little” but he guessed that’s what happened when you were built like Mack. Everyone seemed small when you were built like a literal Mac truck.

Edwin nodded and waved next to him as he moved the sunglasses further up his face so he could actually see through the hazy bar. Charles quickly pulled his costume back on, and together they looked like a matching set.

“Y’all look like something out of The Shining,” Ollie said as he appeared out of nowhere. He handed Charles a pool cue, which Charles nearly dropped as he tried to navigate around his sheet. “Would’ve actually been less creepy if you’d dressed up like the twins.”

“Would it?” Charles asked, skeptically.

“Don’t do that, I’m begging. They scared the shit out of me as a kid,” Mack said.

“The little girls scared you, but the dad losing his mind and trying to kill his family with an axe didn’t?” Ollie asked.

“Crazy dads are cool, I can fight them. I can’t fight a couple of creepy kids,” Mack said.

“Not with that attitude.”

Charles suddenly wished this conversation was over.

“We’re gonna grab some drinks. Want anything?” he asked, jerking his thumb over his shoulder to point to the bar. A couple of beer orders later and Charles pulled Edwin after him unwilling to leave him alone.

He knew it was stupid, that he could trust his teammates around Edwin, but there was the other part of him that worried. What if they said something stupid? Or embarrassed him? Or any other number of things that could go wrong if Charles wasn’t there to monitor things?

No, it was just easier to bring him with him. Not that Edwin seemed to mind as he trailed along after him.

Neither one of them planned on drinking, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t get something for his friends. Plus, a water wouldn’t hurt him. He felt like he was suffocating under the sheet already and they had hardly been in the bar for two minutes.

He flagged down Stu, with his drink orders and turned to Edwin. “You want anything?”

“Water?” Edwin asked, leaning closer to the bar as someone dressed as GI Joe bumped into them.

“You got it, Chuck,” Stu said, then paused. “Hey, are you the guy who was here a few weeks ago?” He was looking at Edwin, like if he stared hard enough he might be able to see through the sheet to him below.

“Yeah, this is Edwin,” Charles said, figuring if he could recognize Charles from his voice alone just like Jared had he might have done the same to Edwin.

“Edwin, yeah, that was the name. Wait here,” he said.

Edwin looked towards Charles, and he was sure under the sunglasses and sheet there was a raised eyebrow somewhere. Before either one of them could question it, Stu returned, holding the sweater Edwin had left there on their first date.

Well, not date. First not-date.

“Figured you’d come back sometime,” he said. “One of the servers noticed it after you guys left and saved it.”

Edwin held out his hands for it, flashing a glimpse of a red-hoodied arm as he did so. Charles would recognize his own hoodie anywhere, and while he wasn’t sure why Edwin would be wearing it, he couldn’t deny that he liked it.

“Thank you,” Edwin said, practically yelling over the music.

In the chaos that had followed Charles had almost forgotten about his sweater. He would have come back for it ages ago if he’d thought that it was actually still there.

It was a struggle to get their drinks and Edwin’s sweater back to the pool table while both of them were in sheet-ghost costumes, but somehow they managed. Ollie cheered as he grabbed a beer from Edwin and slapped him on the back as he walked away to take his next shot.

At the risk of bringing down the table, Charles asked, “Where’s Brad and Hunter?”

“Running late. Maren was ‘being a bitch,’ or something,” Ollie said with air quotes.

“She didn’t wanna dress like a slutty nurse or something,” Mack said with a shrug. “And then they got all in a twist when she told Brad Shelby was coming and blah, blah, blah.”

It was never more clear that Mack was a year older than them than when he got annoyed by their relationship drama.

“Shelby is coming?” Edwin asked, surprising everyone at the table with his sudden voice.

Thankfully, Mack recovered quickly. “Uh, yeah. Well, maybe. I don’t know. I don’t really see that happening if Brad’s here, but, like, a lot of the student athletes are supposed to be, so who knows.”

“I see,” Edwin said, disappointed.

Charles did feel bad. This was the second party where Edwin knew no one other than Charles. And Mack, he supposed, though he didn’t know what comfort that really was.

“You friends with her?” Mack asked. “She’s pretty cool.”

“We run together,” Edwin said.

Ollie let out a low whistle. “Damn, you run with her? I wouldn’t do that even if you paid me. Who’d you say you were again?”

“Edwin Payne,” he said, holding his hand just outside the sheet for a handshake.

“Oh! The figure skater guy,” Ollie said, taking his hand. A look of confusion came over his face, like he was still trying to place him. “Charlie’s girlfriend’s friend?”

“What!?” Edwin asked at the same time Charles rushed in.

“Crystal’s not my girlfriend,” he said, holding his hands up. He nearly took out his own water with the speed he threw his arms up. “Brad was just being… well, himself.”

He could feel Edwin’s eyes on him even if he couldn’t see it.

“So, she’s not Charlie’s girlfriend,” Ollie said slowly, as if he was puzzling something out. “Then is she single?”

“No,” Charles said, at the same time Edwin said, “Disgusting.”

“Hey can’t blame a guy for trying,” he said, holding his own hands up in defense. “You’d see it too, if you weren’t… you know.”

Edwin’s head tilted a bit, the sheet sliding just enough that Charles caught a glimpse of his real eyes behind his sunglasses. “You know what?”

Charles cleared his throat before stepping in. “If you weren’t like her little brother,” he said with a rather pointed look towards his teammates, though he doubted they could see past his sunglasses.

“Right,” Mack said, elbowing Ollie in the stomach.

“Right.”

Silence reigned over the table, the only noise being The Monster Mash playing over the speakers. But it wasn’t in Charles’s nature to let things stay awkward for long, so he clapped his hands together and gestured to the table next to them.

“So, who’s next? I bet you a hundred bucks me and Edwin could kick your ass,” he said.

“I bet you don’t even have a hundred bucks,” Ollie said.

“Guess you’ll have to play us and find out, huh?” Charles said.

“Charles,” Edwin said, his voice unsure. “I really haven’t played that much…”

Charles grinned as Edwin fell right into place. “Come on, Eds. You’ve got all that money, what’s a couple of games?” Mack and Ollie exchanged a look before nodding their heads. “See, they’ll go easy on us, won’t you guys?”

“Oh yeah, totally easy,” Ollie said. “Wouldn’t be fair if we didn’t.”

“So we got a deal?” Charles asked, holding out his hand.

Mack eyed it for a moment before shaking. “Deal. Ghosts against pirates?”

Charles looked at them. “Is that what you’re supposed to be? You look like some old hair-band,” he said, gesturing to the wig he had on.

“It’s called style, Rowland. I don’t expect anyone who wears a bedsheet in public to understand,” he said with fake haughtiness.

The game went as well as Charles had expected. He had at first hoped to scam them for a higher amount by playing through a few games, but since he and Edwin weren’t planning on staying that late, he knew they were limited on time. In the end, they made it through three and upped the bed to three hundred dollars before he signaled for Edwin to start winning.

“Did you just hustle us?” Ollie asked as Edwin sank another ball. Even with the sheet and sunglasses on he was able to pull off some insane shots that Charles wasn’t even sure how he managed.

“That is such an ugly word for it,” Edwin said, holding out his hand for the money. “I prefer to think of it as ‘liberating your funds from you,’” he said.

Mack laughed and wagged his finger at Edwin. “Oh, you’re a fucking dick,” he said. But there wasn’t a trace of annoyance or anger in his tone, only sheer delight at getting scammed by them. “Gonna ban you from playing.”

“Unless you wanna be on our team,” Ollie added, placing some bills in Edwin’s hands, who quickly turned them over to Charles.

“Sorry guys, he’s mine,” Charles said, throwing his arm around Edwin’s shoulders. “Get your own.”

His teammates rolled their eyes just as a few more from the team showed up. Each one was in a more elaborate costume, something that definitely put their sheet ghosts and dimestore pirate costumes to shame, but Charles didn’t feel jealous. It was sort of nice to not have anyone able to see him or Edwin, or see how his eyes constantly watched Edwin’s every move. The way he practically poured over the way Edwin’s hands curved as he lined up his shots or chalked up his cue.

Practically indecent and he was completely covered.

“Think we’re gonna get some fresh air,” Charles said, gesturing to the backdoor. “Let us know when another game starts.”

Mack nodded as someone called for shots and rushed off to the bar. In order to avoid being caught up in the chaos, Charles grabbed Edwin’s hand and pulled him outside.

The patio had blessedly cleared out, though the temperature had dropped significantly. He heaved in a breath of fresh air as he tugged the sheet off him, embracing the cold air in his lungs. Sweat clung to his hair, the sheet having pressed his curls down until he was sure he looked like he had the helmet hair Edwin said he was prone to having.

He turned, grinning towards Edwin, who still had his sheet firmly in place. His breath fogged the air, and he could practically feel steam rising off him as he made his way towards Edwin.

“Wanna take that off?” he asked, waving to Edwin’s costume.

“No.”

Oh. So it was a game now.

“Why not?” he asked. “‘Bout had a heatstroke in there. Don’t you want some fresh air?”

Edwin shifted, moving just a bit further away from Charles. He’d almost managed to put one of the bar’s picnic tables between them before he spoke next. “The air is plenty fresh.”

“Through a sheet?” he asked in disbelief.

Edwin nodded.

“Why won’t you just take the sheet off?” Charles asked as he rounded the edge of the table. He poked at Edwin, who expertly dodged away from his prying fingers. “What, are you naked under there?”

“No!” Edwin squealed, his voice rather high and funny sounding. Sometimes he was too easy to wind up. “It is obvious that I am not naked, you fool.”

“Then why can’t I see?” he asked. He tossed his own sheet down onto the table, enjoying the way the cool air felt on his overheated body.

“You are behaving like a child,” Edwin said, and crossed his arms.

Charles smirked. “Oh, am I now?” he asked. “‘Cause you’re the one dressed as a sheet ghost crossing your arms and stomping your feet.”

Edwin’s foot paused. “I was not stomping my foot,” he said.

“Sure, mate, whatever you say. I believe you,” he said, and made another dive for the sheet.

“Charles!” Edwin said, his voice cracking as he tried to move away. His hands batted at Charles’s, once again expertly dodging away. “Keep your hands to yourself.”

Charles held his hands up, as if he were surrendering. “Sorry. Was just having some fun,” he said.

“Yes, well. You can have your fun some other way– no!” Edwin cut himself off as Charles quickly swiped the sheet off.

With one quick yank it was free. It fell to the ground before Edwin could catch it or Charles could pull it further away. Instantly, he looked up, trying to figure out what exactly had been so bad that Edwin had wanted to hide it.

He noticed his red hoodie from a few nights before. That wasn’t entirely surprising, he had caught glimpses of the long red sleeves throughout the night and figured Edwin had worn it again. Why he had done so, Charles wasn’t sure, but he wasn’t going to argue it. If Edwin wanted to wear his hoodie, then he could do that all he wanted.

No, the hoodie wasn’t what caught his attention and made his heart leap straight into his throat. That honor went to the thing Edwin was wearing over the hoodie.

One of Charles’s jerseys.

He stared at the jersey, his brain essentially malfunctioning. It was big on Edwin, much like all jerseys were big on everyone, even with the added bulk of his hoodie. An oversized hoodie really did have nothing on hockey padding, he figured.

Still, Charles thought this had to be one of the hottest things he had ever seen.

“‘S that my jersey?” he asked, unable to think of a single other thing to ask. As if the large DRAGONS 89 wasn’t printed across it, his own last name emblazoned on the back of it for all to see.

His last name. On Edwin. Where everyone could see. Or would, at least, if there was anyone else out here.

Edwin quickly snatched the sheet back up, turning it this way and that to try and find the eye holes in it so he could cover himself back up. His hair was mused from the sheet, and his face was so red it seemed as though he might have popped a blood vessel.

“Oh, who else’s would it be?” he asked, still turning the sheet around again and again. His hands seemed to almost shake as he tried to cover himself back up.

Charles stepped forward, and placed a hand over his hands. Anything to get him to stop moving so frantically, as if it were a bad thing he was wearing his jersey, when in fact it was the exact opposite. It was brills. Aces. Wonderful. Great. Charles was going to have to get a thesaurus app on his phone if he really wanted to keep this up.

“Edwin,” he said and waited for him to stop. “Edwin.”

Edwin sighed and dropped his hands and sheet back to his side. The flush of his cheeks only seemed highlighted by the red of Charles’s hoodie and the navy of his jersey, as if they have been perfectly combined to bring out the exact shade of ‘flustered’ in Edwin.

That was a color right? Charles had read the bottles of nail polish in Niko’s room before. ‘Flustered,’ ‘Pretty In Punk,’ ‘Abso-Bloody-Lutely.’ He had never been sure why they just didn’t call it red, but looking at Edwin’s cheeks he was starting to see the appeal of fun names.

Slowly, and almost entirely against his will, Edwin’s eyes met Charles’s. The next time he was in Niko’s room he’d have to raid her green nail polishes to see if she had any fun names for the exact same shade of Edwin’s eyes. Something stormy and gray-green, or maybe something earthy but cool, like slate or jade.

The fairy lights of the patio only seemed to make them shine brighter, somehow too much light and not enough for him to see by all at once. It was like a movie, one of those cheesy romcoms he’d fallen in love with as a kid where they looked at each other with literal stars in their eyes.

“There’s a good lad,” Charles said, flashing him a smile. He moved his hands from Edwin’s, gently running them up his arms until he could rest them on his shoulders. He liked resting them there, liked the way they seemed to sit perfectly in the slight dip of his muscles, the way Edwin seemed to relax when he did it. “Now, why don’t you tell me what’s up?”

Edwin sighed. “Nothing. I knew this was a stupid idea,” he said, and reached down to the bottom of the jersey as if he intended to rip it off.

Charles reached down with one hand to stop him, the other still resting on his shoulder. “What idea?” he asked.

“Niko told me, well rather, Niko had an idea. She was the one who suggested I wear it underneath this,” he said, kicking at the crumpled up form of his first costume on the ground.

“Did she?” he asked, and wondered when Niko had a chance to suggest the idea. It did sound like Niko. Always the matchmaker, always the troublemaker. Charles was going to have to buy her next coffee. Or kill her, depending on how this all worked out.

“Did she… did she tell you what it means?” he asked, swallowing like he had a mouthful of sand.

With a roll of his eyes Edwin shrugged, his slender shoulder lifting up under Charles’s hand until he dropped it back down into place. “No. All she told me was that you would enjoy it, and that it would be ‘perfect,’” he said, placing finger quotes around the word. “And I listened. Though I did doubt her.”

“Right,” Charles said, trying to bring his brain back online. So that was what Niko had been doing in his room the other day. Stealing his jersey. For Edwin. In case they did go to the party. Or maybe even if they didn’t. Maybe she had just intended for Edwin to surprise him in it.

Because Edwin was in his jersey. Right in front of him.

“So what does it mean?” Edwin asked. He sounded so innocent when he asked, to the point that Charles was almost loathed to tell him.

“Well, um, mate. It. When– usually when–”

“Oh, nevermind,” Edwin said and once again grabbed the edge of the jersey. He got it as high as his chest before it seemed to get caught on the hood and his own awkward elbows. For a moment he struggled, unable to decide whether or not he wanted to keep fighting to bring it up or back down.

Charles reached out, and gently pulled it back down. Not only was it the easier option, but he wasn’t going to let Edwin get out of it that easily. He was going to do everything he could to keep him in his jersey unless Charles was the one taking it off.

“This is ridiculous,” Edwin said, tossing his arms out to the side. “Ludacris. Absurd.”

“Adorable?” Charles asked, unable to even remotely hide how cute he found the whole thing.

Edwin stilled, staring back at Charles. It seemed to register to him for the first time how close they were. How Charles’s hands were still fisted in his jersey at Edwin’s waist, essentially holding him in place.

“I–” Edwin trailed off. “What does it mean? To wear someone’s jersey?”

Charles shook his head. “What did Niko tell you? How’d she convinced you to wear it?”

Edwin shook his head. “I asked you first,” he said.

Fine, Charles supposed that was fair. He rubbed his jersey through his fingers, almost tightening them like he might need to make sure Edwin didn’t make a break for it once he started talking. “It’s, well, it usually means… Like, usually girlfriends wear it. Kinda like a shack-shirt.”

Edwin’s eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hairline. “What on earth is a ‘shack-shirt?’”

God, Edwin might actually die.

“Like… shacking up? Shagging? It’s a shirt you give someone after you sleep with them. Except, you don’t keep the jersey, obviously. You… take it off,” he said, letting his voice trail off.

He could see the second his words registered in Edwin’s brain. It took less than a second, but the moment it did, he tried to fling himself backwards, as far away from Charles as he could.

But Charles didn’t let him. He thought back to the look on Edwin’s face that night in his room, the way he could see Edwin had steadily been working himself up into a frenzy over nothing, until he had nearly fled from his room in the middle of the night.

Except he knew it wasn’t nothing. If it worried Edwin, then Charles was going to take it seriously, even if he wasn’t sure entirely what it was. But in order to do that, he needed Edwin to stay here, to trust him enough to not run off just because things were scary, and let him know what was going on.

“Whoa,” he said, holding on to the jersey and Edwin in one fell swoop. He made sure he stayed on his feet, though the speed with which Edwin had tried to move had nearly taken them both out. Thankfully, Charles was used to boxing in people who were intent on getting away. “Slow down, it’s fine.”

Edwin’s hands, which had previously been down at his sides, immediately tried to take the jersey off again. “No, it is not fine, Charles! This is wholly unacceptable! I cannot– would you stop!” he snapped, changing his course to start batting at Charles’s hands at his waist.

Charles lightened his grip, though he didn’t let go. If anything, he stepped closer, moved even further into Edwin’s space so he couldn’t look away from him. If Edwin asked again, he’d step back, no questions asked. He would never want to actually cross any line Edwin didn’t want him to, but he still wanted Edwin to know that it was fine.

Still, he couldn’t help the snort that escaped, despite his best efforts. That, combined with the smile he could feel spreading across his face seemed to whip Edwin up even more.

“Did you know about this?” he asked, scandalized. “Is that why Niko insisted I do it?!”

Quickly, Charles shook his head, shutting down the thought. “No, no, nothing like that, Eds. That was all her.” Gently, he pulled Edwin closer, trying to make him understand. He followed, stiffly, but allowed himself to be tugged against Charles’s chest nonetheless.

“Then let me take it off,” Edwin said.

Charles shook his head. There was no way in hell he was going to let that happen. Never really knew when he’d get a chance to see him in it again, did he? Probably never if Edwin’s extremely embarrassed face had anything to say about it.

“Is this a joke?” Edwin asked, his voice cracking. “A prank? Because I can tell you right now, Charles Rowland, that it isn’t funny.”

“It’s not a prank,” he said, his tone as serious as he’d ever been.

“Then why are you laughing?” Edwin asked. That heat and attitude from before seemed to have burned out, leaving a quiet and humiliated Edwin behind.

It sent a spike of anxiety through Charles in return. He hated to see anything affect Edwin in such a way. He wanted to fix it, to do anything that he could to make it right, but he didn’t know how. This whole situation was like a minefield, except it felt like he and Edwin were the ones dropping grenades while simultaneously digging up mines.

“M’not laughing,” he said, then corrected himself before Edwin could argue. “I mean, I was. But not at you.” He let his fingers rub what he hoped were soothing circles on Edwin’s waist, trying to show him that everything was fine. “And I think you look pretty mint in my jersey.”

It seemed like for once all of the words had been knocked straight out of Edwin. His hands hovered for a moment above Charles’s waist before finally settling on them, resting there as light as a feather. If Charles hadn’t been watching for Edwin’s every move, every facial expression, he might not have even noticed them.

“I truly did not know the connotation with wearing someone’s jersey,” Edwin said. “I mean, I could have assumed, but I never would have thought– I mean, Niko really was the one to recommend it, and I–” It would seem Edwin had found his words again, though they tumbled out of him so fast Charles hardly seemed to be able to understand them.

“Oi, none of that, again,” Charles said. “Smoke’s bound to come pourin’ out your ears if you keep going at that rate.”

Edwin bit his bottom lips, as if he needed to physically stop the words. And Charles watched, completely taken in by the idea of him biting Edwin’s lip to the point that he had no idea how he was supposed to proceed.

“It’s ridiculous,” Edwin said, still protesting.

“Don’t look ridiculous to me,” Charles said. “Look pretty fit. Hot. Luckiest guy in the world that you’re wearing my jersey.”

Charles could hear Edwin inhale. Not quite a gasp, it wasn't loud enough to be that, but Charles was close enough that everything Edwin did sounded loud. Which was what he preferred. He wanted to hear everything, didn’t want to miss a moment of this and leave himself wondering what could have been.

One of Edwin’s legs moved back, as if he were going to take a step, though he didn’t actually do it. Instead, he simply leaned back enough that his nose just barely brushed against Charles’s as he met his eyes again.

“Charles?” Edwin whispered. There was nothing that had ever mattered more than Edwin whispering his name.

“Yeah?” he asked, resisting the urge to lean in even more. He had told himself that if Edwin stepped back he would respect it, and he meant that.

There was a moment where Charles wasn’t sure which Edwin was going to do. He was either going to kiss him or bolt right on out of his arms, likely the last time he would ever see him.

Thankfully, it was the first one.

Edwin surged forward, his lips pressing against Charles’s so fast their noses bumped together, and Charles felt his bottom lip hit his own teeth. That brief flash of pain meant nothing, however, when he was holding Edwin in his arms and pressing their lips against each other like it was the most important thing in the world.

He pulled Edwin closer, his arms still wrapped around Edwin’s waist and fisted in his own jersey. God, he was never going to be able to look at this thing the same way, or grab onto someone's jersey without thinking of this.

Somehow, Edwin leaned even further forward, his hands shifting from Charles’s waist towards his face. They didn’t get there, however, his arms wrapped between Charles’s and stopping halfway there on his chest. He tilted his head, so their noses were less squished, and Charles wondered for a moment if he’d died and gone to Heaven.

“You guys out here?”

It was like getting dosed with a cold bucket of water by reality. Edwin leaned back, this time actually gasping in shock as he quickly pushed away from Charles. His feet tangled in the sheet on the ground until he nearly toppled over in his haste to get away.

Charles tried to get his brain to work correctly, to get any amount of himself back under his control. It was hard when he looked at Edwin and saw that navy jersey and red hoodie looking back at him.

Edwin suddenly dropped to the ground, and Charles scrambled to try and help him, convinced that something must be wrong. His mind went through all of the things that could have happened, each one getting progressively worse, before he realized that Edwin was merely grabbing his sheet and tugging it back over his head, eye holes be damned.

Mack came around the corner just as Edwin surged back to his feet, sheet back on but definitely not correct. There were dirty footprints on it from where the two of them had nearly trampled it, plus some of the muck from the ground.

Oh, sure. This was definitely less suspicious than what the two of them had been doing moments before.

“There you two are!” Mack said, flashing a smile. “Brad and Hunter just showed up. Are you guys up for another round of pool?”

“No-”

“Yes!”

Charles stared at Edwin. Edwin, he was sure, was staring back at him, though he didn’t have the eyeholes to prove it.

Mack looked back and forth between them. “Okay,” he said. “That wasn’t weird at all. Anyways, we’re gonna be playing another one once we get some drinks, if you guys wanna join.”

They nodded.

He looked at them again, as if he knew that something had happened out here, even if he wasn’t sure what. Charles just had to thank every deity out there that he didn’t question them. “We’ll see ya inside,” he said, once it became obvious Mack might wait around.

And with that Mack headed back inside. Edwin paused for a moment before ripping the sheet back off his head, as if it had personally offended him. He tossed it back to the ground, and turned towards Charles.

There wasn’t even a shade of red in the world to match his face now.

“I–” Edwin started and stopped. He quickly used the space he had put between them to rip Charles’s hoodie and jersey both off him in one go, and stood there shivering in the cool air. His short-sleeved t-shirt was definitely not enough for this weather. “Here. I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me.”

Charles frowned and pulled his hands out of reach, as if that might make Edwin take either one of the items back. “Don’t be dumb. It’s cold, just put them back on.”

Edwin shook his head, still holding the offending clothes out. Sighing, Charles took them from his hands and worked on separating the two of them.

“Fine, what if we do this?” he asked. He pulled his jersey free from his hoodie before handing it back to Edwin and gesturing for him to put it on. “You wear that, and then we can put the hoodie over. No one’ll even know you’ve got it on.”

Edwin considered for a moment. “I suppose that would work,” Edwin said, taking them both back and sliding them on. Charles tried not to let the image of Edwin wearing his jersey go to his brain again, or the fact that now he was directly doing it for Charles, with only Charles knowing about it.

“There’s a good lad,” Charles said, repeating his words from earlier, though everything had changed so much since then. He’d kissed Edwin. Or rather, Edwin had kissed him. Though, he supposed, it took two to kiss when both of them had been holding each other in place.

Edwin shook his head at Charles, but tugged the hoodie low regardless. “How do I look?” Edwin asked, spreading his arms out to make sure none of the jersey was showing at the bottom.

“Like a dream, mate,” he said, which only made Edwin flush and roll his eyes.

“What do you say to another round of pool?” Charles asked. “Don’t even have to have your costume on now, do you?”

He picked at the hoodie, tugging the strings out as far as they would go before evening them back out. “I am unsure,” Edwin said, and Charles waited patiently for him to continue. “Would that be something you were interested in? Playing pool with me even after… this?” He waved a hand between them as if the last few minutes could be summed up with a hand wave and a few quick words.

Like it hadn’t rocked Charles’s world or shaken the foundations of who he was as a person.

“I wanna do anything that you wanna do,” he said. “Told ya that before, yeah? Whatever you want works for me.”

Something flashed in Edwin’s eye, and Charles wish he knew how to interpret it. “Then I think… Then I believe it best if we forget this whole business. I really am sorry, I did not think before– that is to say, you didn’t– none of this…”

Charles felt something catch in his throat, like he couldn’t figure out how to breathe correctly despite having done it for twenty one years. He knew that this was a lot, that Edwin didn’t seem to have any experience with any of this before, but to just… forget it? That was impossible.

Asking Charles to forget this was like asking his heart to forget how to beat or his lungs to forget how to breathe. Then again, from the way his heart seemed to be skipping a beat, and the way he suddenly didn’t know how to draw a breath, maybe it wasn’t so impossible.

“You… wanna forget it?” he asked. He wasn’t even certain what his tone sounded like, unable to hear his own voice over the roaring in his ears or the way everything felt numb.

“I mean, if that is something you are able to do, then yes. I think it would be for the best. I know that this was my fault, really. I should have asked Niko more thorough questions, and I really should not have let myself get carried away just now,” Edwin said. He squirmed, as if he were going to somehow remove himself entirely from this situation by wiggling alone, even though no one was holding him.

“I’m sorry,” Edwin said, his voice nearly cracking, when Charles didn’t say anything.

Despite everything, that tiny crack seemed to break through everything. “Nah, it’s alright. What’s a kiss between friends, right? That’s also, like, a prime college experience.”

A small, watery smile flashed across Edwin’s face. “Ah, I see. So, this is just another one of those things that has to happen, yes?”

Charles didn’t think there was any way anyone else had ever felt what he had when he and Edwin had kissed. This went far beyond the simple desire to kiss someone you thought was fit. This was almost instinctual, bone deep, unable to be carved out of Charles without somehow retracting something that deeply made Charles who he was.

Edwin Payne might as well have carved his name straight into Charles’s heart for all the claim he had on it.

It struck him like lightning. That there was a name for this feeling, the way his heart beat faster in his chest when Charles looked at Edwin, the way he craved his attention, the way it bothered him to see people like Simon stay close to him as if they had any right to do so.

It wasn’t just care or friendship or anything else like that. It wasn’t even just the feelings of attraction, of wanting a fling with someone.

No, it was love. Pure, unadulterated love.

And Charles was fucking terrified.

It was a realization he was sure he’d had long ago. Something that had revealed itself to him long before he’d truly understood what it meant to be in love with someone, actually, truly, completely in love in a way he’d never been before.

This wasn’t a silly little crush. Or even the little blips of romance he sometimes felt for people. It was love.

“Yeah,” Charles said. “Just one of those things that has to happen.”

Edwin gave him a smile, though Charles wasn’t sure how genuine it was. “Well, look at us. We didn’t even have to bet on that one,” Edwin said.

“Nope,” Charles said. All he could say, really.

Edwin seemed to be watching him, though Charles wasn’t sure why. Either way he made sure to smile at him, to look completely normal as he walked over and threw an arm around Edwin’s shoulder and ushered him back in.

“Look at you! You’ll be an expert at college experiences in no time. Then you won’t even need me,” he said, ignoring the way the thought hurt more than it should.

Edwin frowned. He opened his mouth as if he might argue, but he didn’t get the chance to before Charles opened the door and all but pushed him back through.

Let the loud bar take care of all of his other feelings. Maybe if he drowned out everything else it wouldn’t hurt so bad.

Charles could at least hope.

Notes:

does this get me off everyone's shit list for them not kissing, or on a worst list somehow?

ps. I had someone ask on the last chapter if I am writing these week to week and I just thought I should address it here. And yeah, I am. It is... a lot in one week, especially considering my other active fics lmao! <3

Chapter 22: I'm Drunk In The Back Of The Car, And I Cried Like A Baby Coming Home From The Bar

Notes:

"I'm drunk in the back of the car,
And I cried like a baby coming home from the bar (oh)
Said, "I'm fine," but it wasn't true,
I don't wanna keep secrets just to keep you,
[...]
And I screamed, "For whatever it's worth, I love you, ain't that the worst thing you've ever heard?"
He looks up grinnin' like a devil,"
Cruel Summer by Taylor Swift

The bar was loud and seemed extra crowded after being outside on the patio. Charles's hand, which had been pushing him towards the door back into the bar, vanished the second they crossed over, leaving Edwin feeling a bit lost and alone.

Charles's jersey brushed against his skin every time Edwin moved. The sleeves were longer than the t shirt he had been wearing underneath his— well, Charles's hoodie— and every little shift seemed to cause it to brush against some part of his skin. His arms, his neck where it hung loosely off of him, his hands if he tried to do anything underneath the hoodie.

Charles's hoodie. Charles's jersey. All of it touching some part of him. While out in public. There had to be a word for this feeling, something caught between literal Heaven and Hell. A place where you could truly experience the best thing in the world, only to have it flipped over and turned on you.

It was supposed to be a surprise, though he supposed that was ruined now. It also made a bit more sense though, now that he thought about it. Why Niko had so desperately wanted him to wear it, why she had insisted it be under the costume and only revealed when they were alone.

Edwin didn't really know what he thought would happen when he showed Charles, but being told it was the equivalent of saying you had sex with someone (or wanted to have sex with someone) was not it. Plus, wearing it while Charles's teammates, who definitely did know the meaning of such a thing, were just feet away inside? Edwin thought he should get some sort of award for not spontaneously combusting or shooting himself to the moon with the power of sheer embarrassment alone.

So, Edwin had done what he had known best. Ignore it. Pretend that it hadn't happened. There was no way he could play it off as a joke— he didn't think his heart could do it, nor was he a good enough actor, but he could be honest that he hadn't meant it like that.

The kiss, however, was a whole other matter.

Edwin had never imagined a life where he fell in love or had romantic partners. Anytime he tried, his mind came up blank, leaving a mysterious empty spot where the other person should be. But, if Edwin had a choice, if he got to be selfish and select what his heart truly wanted, then it would have to be Charles.

Not someone like Charles. Just Charles. Though, even that thought seemed wrong. Saying just Charles made it seem like he was simple, as if there was no depth to him, nothing that made him stand out. Which was so categorically wrong, Edwin didn't even know where to begin deconstructing the thought.

In the short time Edwin had known Charles he had gone out of his way over and over again to make sure Edwin was comfortable and alright. He took care of him in ways that no one ever had before, not even his parents. He made sure he slept. ate, rested, didn't train himself to death, and had time to have "normal" experiences for someone his age.

And how had Edwin returned the favor? By wearing his jersey, implying that there was something more to their relationship and then kissing him? The last thing Edwin ever wanted to do was make Charles uncomfortable or put him on the spot, which was exactly what all of this had done.

Charles smiled at him as he stepped around Edwin, greeting the other players who had shown up while they were outside. He tried to guess what some of their costumes might be, pop culture references, Halloween classics like vampires or zombies, and at least one politician that Edwin could recognize.

It really was like nothing had happened, like their kiss had never occurred. Because it hadn't meant anything. It couldn't mean anything.

There had been a conversation once, where Niko had joked that Charles fell in love every semester. It never lasted long, but it did make her life more difficult, and always left Charles in a funk until he had gotten over it.

Charles had laughed and said that he wasn't that bad, but hadn't denied the truth of the statement.

Edwin didn't want to be something Charles got over. No matter their relationship status.

"Hey, Chucky!" Hunter said, throwing his arm around Charles's shoulder and letting out a low whistle. "Where's your costume?"

Charles held up the sheet in his hand, crumpled and wrinkled, though not as dirty as Edwin's. "Took it off. Figured I'd grace you guys with my beautiful face," he joked.

Playfully, Hunter shoved him off with a roll of his eyes. They landed on Edwin, which brought a surprised look to his face. "Oh, hey," he said, almost a question.

Edwin nodded his head. He felt as though he should say something, maybe even explain why he was there, but his throat felt as if it had closed up. He didn't need to explain anything to them. He had been invited, by Mack and by Charles, and besides, it was a public bar. He could be there if he so wished.

If one ignored the fact that he was underaged.

"This is Edwin," Mack said, ever the host. "Edwin, Hunter."

Edwin wondered if Mack was capable of reading a room, or if he simply chose to close his eyes to such situations. It was a skill Edwin almost envied. Perhaps, in the next life, Edwin would wish for those skills over any other.

"The figure skater, yeah, I know," Hunter said with a quick nod of his head. Edwin had never felt lesser for being a figure skater before, but he certainly didn't feel lifted by the way Hunter had said it. "Shelby's friend."

Ah, Shelby's friend. Not Charles's. It felt as though some sort of distinction was being made, though Edwin couldn't be certain what. Or why.

"He's gonna be playing some pool with us," Mack said, and pointedly gave a quickly approaching Ollie a look to keep his mouth shut.

Edwin felt the familiar creepings of panic settling over him. It had been one thing to scam Charles during their outing, and another to do it to Mack and Ollie at Charles's instruction, but Hunter? Or Brad, if he really was around? That felt like tempting fate, like sticking his hand into a lion's mouth covered in blood and begging it not to bite.

"Actually," Edwin said, backing up. Charles's eyes snapped to him, immediately making eye contact despite Edwin's best efforts. It seemed as though he were looking into Edwin's soul, and Edwin couldn't wonder what he was seeing when he did. Someone scared, worried… a coward? Friend? Someone who thought the kiss should have meant something more than just a college check list? "I think I should go."

Both Mack and Charles's brows furrowed, though Charles was the only one to step forward, as if he were going to follow him. "Go?" he asked.

Edwin nodded. "Yes. Thank you for inviting me," he said, pointedly looking at Mack. The last thing he wanted to do was get Charles in trouble or have anyone give him any more shit for inviting him.

"We've only played a couple of games," Mack said. "Are you sure you don't wanna stay for one more? The night is young," he asked, sing-songing on the last word.

Edwin bit his lip. He hadn't honestly expected Mack to protest him leaving as well. Or the way Ollie seemed to side eye everyone and everything as he set the drinks he was carrying back from the bar down on the hightop.

He glanced at Charles again, just to see if he could read his expression. It was closed off, though not entirely unfriendly. Just like when they had first met.

The way Edwin had asked for it to be.

"Are you really going to sneak away, just as we get here?" Maren asked, her voice raised to be heard over the speakers.

Edwin turned. Maren, Shelby, and most surprisingly of all, Brad, stood just behind him. Shelby smiled and waved at him, though she seemed less than thrilled to be there, and Maren was noticeably not dressed like a "slutty nurse."

Instead, she wore an old fashioned hockey mask, splattered in blood, with an olive green coat slung over her slim shoulders. A fake (or so Edwin hoped) machete hung from her waist, giving her the appearance of a pretty Jason Vorhees. One of the few horror movies Edwin could actually say he had seen all the way through.

It would seem Brad wasn't wearing a costume.

He brushed past Edwin towards the rest of the team, nearly shoulder checking him in the process. It was just crowded enough in there that it might have been an accident, though Edwin didn't believe it to be.

The rest of the team welcomed him in, cheering as he set some drinks down on the table. One of the players passed out the beers, though Edwin and the girls were distinctly left out. Even Charles was handed one, though Edwin was sure he hadn't ordered one.

He glanced at Edwin for a split second before taking a swig from it.

Well, there went their not drinking agreement for the night.

"Well?" Maren asked. When Edwin turned she raised an eyebrow at him, clearly still waiting for a response. "Shelby only agreed to come if you were here. And I only agreed to come if Shelby was here."

"What she's saying is you have to stay," Shelby joked.

"I'm saying he at least needs to wait until I've had a drink," she said. "I didn't get all dressed up not to party."

Shelby rolled her eyes, though she nudged the other girl towards the bar. "You coming?" she asked.

Edwin glanced behind him. It would seem Charles had already hit it back off with his friends, drinking and laughing in a way that Edwin had never quite mastered.

"Yes," he said, though he had no intention of drinking.

He bought the girls their drinks, which earned him a 'what a gentleman,' from Maren as she patted him on the head. He glared, though it seemed to have no effect on her, and decided that she and Crystal were never allowed to meet.

By the time they made their way through the bar and back to the pool table, things had gotten loud. Different players Edwin wasn't familiar with, as well as some other athletes, had gathered around chatting. Girls hovered nearby that Edwin figured might be their girlfriends or girls they were at least interested in, though why they would be interested in any of them Edwin wasn't sure.

Charles notwithstanding, of course.

In the time they had been gone a game had started up. Edwin leaned against one of the hightops as Maren and Shelby climbed up into the bar stools, shaking their heads.

"I can't believe I let you drag me out tonight," Shelby said.

"It's just a couple of drinks and then home," Maren said. It's not like we're streaking across the football field."

Edwin wished he could have just slunk away when he had a chance.

"Yeah, but a few drinks and then home always turns into multiple drinks and then food and then more drinks in someone's dorm, and I don't wanna do that," Shelby said. "Edwin and I have to wake up early to run."

Maren crossed her arms, an upset expression crossing her face. He wasn't sure why, but it surprised him. "Well, Edwin's not complaining about it," she said. "Taking one day off isn't going to kill you."

Shelby slapped her hand on the table, the sound loud even despite the music playing overhead. And truly, how many times could someone listen to The Monster Mash or Zombie by The Cranberries. Which wasn't even a Halloween song, but Edwin supposed wasn't the point.

"It's not just one day off! It starts that way, and then people wanna go out the next night or the next or the next, and then I never get any sleep and can't run anymore," Shelby said.

Edwin felt as though he really shouldn't be standing this close while this argument was happening. But what was the alternative? Go speak with Charles while he was playing pool with everyone else? After their kiss?

Perhaps where he was standing was better.

"I'm not talking about those nights, I'm talking about this one!" Maren said, almost desperate. "I just want a chance to hang out with my friend and enjoy college, is that so wrong?"

He tried to catch Charles's eye from across the bar, but it was impossible. He seemed to steadily be talking to Ollie, Foster, and Hunter. Brad stood a little ways away, heckling Mack as he lined up his shot. Edwin supposed he shouldn't be surprised that Charles was so determined to ignore him. After all, wasn't that exactly what he had asked for?

Still, it stung to see it in action. He hadn't thought that the effects would be so immediate. Or that they would hurt so much.

He sighed and wondered if he could possibly escape out the door without anyone noticing. Maybe he could fake going to the bathroom or ordering a drink. Or maybe he could pretend Simon or Crystal called and needed him.

Actually, that wasn't too bad of an idea. There had been plenty of times he had bailed Crystal out before, surely she would do the same for him.

He decided that he would give it another ten minutes. And if nothing had improved by then— Charles being with his friends and Maren and Shelby fighting beside him— then he would send and SOS text to Crystal and hope she got the message.

"Maybe I am enjoying college. Maybe I would be enjoying it more if I didn't have to see Brad or Hunter all the time," Shelby said, and Edwin couldn't help but feel himself by drawn back into their conversation.

All of this was sounding far too familiar for his liking.

Edwin instead chose to focus on the game going in front of him. He couldn't even tell who was on who's team anymore, nor who might be stripes or solids. He wondered if the others knew, or if they were just going on vibes alone now. With the amount of alcohol he could smell rolling off the rest of the team, he was inclined to believe the latter.

Still, he couldn't help but feel like a child again. Years he had spent following along behind Crystal or even just Simon, hoping for someone to give him the time of day or treat him like a friend, and it hurt because he thought that he had found that in Charles. For once, he thought he had found someone who liked him despite his prickly nature, his rude attitude.

This is what Edwin got for having feelings.

The kiss didn't matter, so what? Edwin had at least hoped that at the end of the day that he had mattered, that he would mean enough to Charles. Enough for what, exactly? He wasn't sure. To stay close friends? To still do the things they had been doing all semester?

No, the kiss might not have mattered but it had changed something about all of this, even if Edwin couldn't put a pin in what exactly.

He'd thought by the time he had his first kiss things would be less… messy. That while he had never truly imagined the circumstance in which it happened that it would be clean. Clear-cut. No hard feelings on either side because clearly, if they were kissing, then they must be interested in each other.

This all just truly went to show how stupid younger Edwin had been.

He excused himself to go to the bathroom, unable to stand there a moment longer. He was sure Shelby or Maren made a noise of protest as he squeezed by them, intent on simply… going somewhere.

Despite the amount of people currently shoved into the bar, the bathrooms were thankfully nearly empty. There was a man currently throwing up in one of the stalls, and another who seemed to be trying to reattach part of his costume to himself, but other than that it was free.

The water in the sink was frigid compared to his overheated skin. He couldn't take off the hoodie, not without everyone potentially seeing Charles's jersey, but he could at least run some water over his wrists and splash his face a couple of times.

Time passed by slowly as he tried to count his breaths. In and out, in and out. Tears prickled at the edge of his eyes, though he refused to let them fall. There was nothing to be crying over, not when nothing had happened. Or what had happened had been his fault.

He could do this. He could make it through a couple of games of pool and go home. Or maybe even sooner if Shelby insisted. Perhaps the two of them could team up and just leave. Though he would feel bad leaving Maren behind.

Then again, wasn't Brad her boyfriend? Or something like that, he was sure he'd heard Shelby complain about it before. So, she wouldn't really be alone if they left.

Still, he felt bad. Charles had asked him to come out, clearly intending for the night to go one way and Edwin had ruined it. This was why he didn't do these things, this was why he stayed home or at the rink and focused on skating because when he did he—

"You good, man?" a guy asked, his voice slurred and drunken.

It took a moment for Edwin to respond, unsure that the question had even been for him. He looked up to see a man standing a few feet away eyeing him. He must have been the one throwing up in the stall.

"Need the sink," he muttered, and Edwin stumbled back and out of the way.

"Of course, sorry," he said, which the guy grumbled out something that vaguely sounded like 'it's okay.'

The bar somehow seemed even more full by the time he stepped out. Navigating his way back to the table seemed almost impossible, though he just barely managed to do it by scraping himself on someone's fairy wings. Glitter rained down and into his hair, pissing him off more than it probably should have.

The game had ended while he was gone, and another one had started up. More drinks littered the tables around them until Edwin wasn't sure how anyone knew who's was whose anymore.

Charles didn't even seem to notice his return. He took his shot, missing it by a mile, and tossed back another drink for his efforts. Edwin wondered how many he had had in the time he had been gone.

Brad stood next to Maren when he returned. She rolled her eyes at something he said, though there was a smile on her face. Shelby, for the most part, seemed locked in on her phone.

"Thought you skipped out on us," Shelby said, gently elbowing him once he was in reach.

"The thought did cross my mind," Edwin said, and gave her a small smile, which she quickly returned.

"You two wanna be on a team?" Brad asked, nearly smacking Edwin in the head with a pool cue in his haste to hand it over. "The stick-in-the-muds against the actually fun people?" He laughed, as if it were supposed to be a joke, but no one other than him found it funny.

"Shut up," Maren said. Brad rolled his eyes and leaned forward, kissing her on the cheek. Her annoyance seemed to fade just a bit as she leaned back and allowed him to pull her off the barstool.

"And when will the 'actually fun people' be arriving?" Edwin asked. "Just so I know when to start playing."

Shelby snorted, not even trying to hide it. Maren smiled and wrapped an arm around him, shaking him just a bit. "See, I'm liking him more and more."

If looks could kill, Edwin would have dropped dead on the spot. He wasn't even sure why, it was not as if his joke was even that cutting, though he had learned long ago that that didn't matter when it came to issues between people like he and Brad.

Gently, he untangled himself from Maren. It was far too hot in the bar for her to hang on him, especially with all of his emotions still running high. Plus, he was sure none of that was endearing him to Brad. Not that he particularly wanted to do that, but that would make things easier for him if he did.

"Who invited you again?" he asked.

Before Edwin could respond, Shelby jumped in. "I don't think either one of us want to play with you."

"Good, because I didn't want to play with you either," Brad said back.

"We all sound real mature right now," Maren said, rolling her eyes.

Edwin couldn't help but agree with both her and Shelby. No matter how childish it was, he didn't want to play with Brad. But he wanted things to be normal between him and Charles, and agreeing to play a game with his friend seemed like the easiest way to do so.

"I'm getting another drink," Shelby said, slipping away.

"Shelby—"

Edwin looked between them. "I will get her," he said, though he didn't know if that was true. Either way, Maren seemed to be grateful as he followed after her.

The bar was crowded, even if all you wanted to order was a water. Still, he waited in line next to her as they did so, and then found a spot at the end of the bar to sit and sip while she cooled off.

"I hate him," Shelby said, and Edwin nodded. "He's a lying asshole; a no good piece of shit and—" She cut herself off as she glanced at Edwin and shook her head. "Sorry."

"No, it is fine," he said, gesturing for her to continue. "I am not overly fond of him myself."

This, at least, earned him a small smile, which he took as a win.

"We dated," she said, though he already knew this. "And he cheated on me."

"With Maren?" he asked.

Shelby shook her head and took another sip from her water. "No, someone else. And then someone else and someone else." She twirled her finger in a circle, showing all the ways it never stopped.

Edwin stared down into his own water. "Why did you stay with him?" he asked. Because wasn't that always the question? The question he desperately wanted the answer to. Why did Crystal stay with David for so long, why did Charles believe Brad and Hunter over him…

She shrugged and finished her water. "Because he's good at making you feel special?"

Edwin couldn't help the scoff that left his mouth at that. Thankfully, he doubted she could hear it over the noise of the rest of the bar. "You are special, Shelby."

She rolled her eyes. "I know that. But I'm usually special because of track or something like that. And he made me feel special because I was… me."

Edwin could see how tempting that could be. To have someone feel like they were really seeing you, not just the sport you were so good at. That out of everyone, that special person looked at you and thought you were special.

The butterflies in his stomach seemed to beat harder against the acid bubbling there, unwilling to drown.

"I can see now that he's a total douche," she said, and Edwin really did snort then. "But Maren… She still can't see it."

There had been an awful lot of glaring for her to not know that Brad was a douche, but Edwin didn't think it was his place to really argue this point. And doing so would have felt too much like trying to explain the situation to Shelby, who was currently living it.

"It is hard to see why Maren would date him, after all of this," he said.

"We weren't really friends when this happened," she said. "We really only reconnected again later."

That, he supposed made the slightest bit more sense.

"How did you two even become friends?" Edwin asked.

The bartender, Stu, checked in on them and refilled their waters. Edwin appreciated it, as he could already feel the sweat building underneath the hoodie again.

"We actually went to the same high school," Shelby said. "But we weren't very close. Not until the end of our first year, after Brad and I broke up. For the first time."

This all sounded far too complicated for Edwin to follow, even if he hadn't been drinking. Why did people have to make everything so difficult? Once again he couldn't help but think of his child self who had thought all of this relationship drama stuff would be over once they kissed, and what a fool he had been for thinking that.

"I just keep hoping that she'll dump him. For real," Shelby said, her head turned towards the pool tables.

Edwin looked towards them as well, though he couldn't see anything through the hoards of people. "Do you want to go home?" he asked.

Something gave her pause. "If I do, then they're all going to talk shit about how I'm 'no fun,'" she said.

Edwin thought back to Ollie who had been impressed with Shelby and figured that any athlete worth their salt could understand someone wanting to go home early. Especially when you woke up as early as Shelby did to run.

He was already regretting how few hours seemed between him and his alarm.

"Then they can talk shit about the both of us," he said.

She smiled at him and tried to discretely wipe her eye. "Do you want to share an Uber?" she asked.

Campus wasn't that far, but it was growing late. And the idea of walking home in the cold again this late and then turning around and getting up early again did not seem fun.

On the other hand, he definitely did not want to get in any sort of car.

"Sorry, I can't," Edwin said and prayed she didn't ask why. "But I will wait with you."

It took far longer for her ride to show up than either one of them had been expecting. Halloween night combined with a normally busy weekend meant and extra long wait time, though neither one of them complained. Instead they sat in silence or took turns trying to guess what costume someone was dressed up as.

It was an activity he had imagined himself and Charles doing, or maybe even Niko and Crystal, but he would take Shelby over Brad or Hunter any day.

By the time he made his way back to the table it seemed as if chaos had erupted. Brad, Maren, Hunter, and a few others were nowhere in sight, while the others that were there seemed to be cracking up laughing, leaning on each other like they were the last supports in the bar.

It took him more time than he cared to admit to spot Charles. But, like always, his eyes eventually locked in on him, leaning on Mack like his life depended on it.

"Nah, s'all good! I can do it myself," Charles said, waving off Mack's help. His words were slurred, far more than Edwin had ever heard them be before.

The instant Edwin stepped back over Mack's eyes locked onto Edwin. He was surprised to see how desperate he looked, immediately gesturing for Edwin. "Edwin, dude, I hate to ask you, but could you….?" He trailed off and waved towards Charles who weakly batted at his hands and made a move like he was lunging for the floor.

"Um?" Edwin asked, stepping closer. He wasn't sure what help he would be, or that Charles would even want his help, all things considered.

"Can you just—" Mack groaned as he heaved Charles upright and set him back on his feet. "Can you just help him outside? One of the freshies should be out there on DD duty."

Edwin nodded and awkwardly held his arm out for Charles to take. Instead, he basically fell into him, and it was only through sheer luck and the grace of years of practice that they both didn't end up on the floor.

"Thank you," Mack said so sincerely it almost hurt. "Now I've gotta get Ollie…"

Edwin glanced over at Ollie, who seemed to be doing far worse off than Charles. At least Charles was standing upright and talking, though he truly was far more wiggly then Edwin would like. Ollie, however, seemed to be clinging to the pool table in an effort to stay upright.

"Do you need help?" he asked. At Edwin's voice Charles suddenly jerked his head up, as if he had only just become aware of who was holding him upright. Edwin cringed, hoping that he didn't say anything about the kiss or that he might regret. Mack seemed to tolerate Edwin's presence, but he felt as though the rest of the team might feel differently.

"Thought you left!" Charles said, grinning at Edwin, unaware of the conversation taking place over his head.

"Nah, just… get him home," Mack said, waving Charles off. Charles, once again batted at Mack's hand, even though he wasn't the one holding him up anymore.

"I'm fine," he said, distinctly not fine sounding.

"You're drunk," Edwin said.

"And fine."

Edwin rolled his eyes. He should have known better than to try and reason with a drunk person.

He tried to turn Charles around, to get him to walk towards the door, but it would seem as though he was hellbent on staying. Or at least not going where Edwin wanted him to.

Which, Edwin supposed, was fair. He wouldn't exactly want to be dragged around by the guy who kissed him either. (Unless that person was Charles, but all of that seemed like a moot point.)

"Charles," he said, trying to reason with him. "Move your legs."

Charles did not move his legs. If anything, it seemed as though he locked up his knees to make sure they didn't so much as bend in anyway helpful to Edwin.

Sighing, Edwin moved one of his arms around his shoulder's and half lifted him up. It wasn't as though it were all that difficult. Edwin lifted weights on a regular basis, and could even lift Simon if need be, though they often didn't train that way anymore. It should come as no surprise that he could lift Charles up in a half-ways side carry.

Still, it managed to catch Charles off guard.

"Whoa!" he yelled, stretching out his legs properly to keep his feet on the ground. "You're strong. So strong. Shoulda known, I've seen ya skate and work out. Mack, have you seen him work out? He's," Charles's unrestrained hand slapped at Edwin's face, as if there were any doubt who he was talking about. "He's gonna go to the Olympics."

Mack gave Edwin a sympathetic look before turning back to Charles. "Yeah, dude, I know. Now go home," he said."

"Aw, what?" Charles asked. Edwin could feel him try and move forward, but Edwin's hold kept him in place. "B-but that Halloween party." Most of his words were running together, stringing and stumbling along until it sounded like mush.

"Is over for you," Mack said. "That's what you get when you chug The Big Sipper."

"The what?" Edwin asked.

Mack gestured somewhere behind him to a mess of cups. "The Big Sipper. I dunno who named it, but it's got like a million kinds of alcohol in it. Knock you on your ass and put hair on your chest." He slapped Charles's chest with the back of his hand, and Edwin made sure to not even imagine Charles's chest one way or another.

"Had to do it," Charles said. He tapped the side of his head and then Edwin's with one of his fingers. "'cause we're forgetting!"

Mack shook his head. "Yeah, buddy, I think you will be forgetting. Now go the fuck home."

Edwin felt as though he was going to be sick. When he had said that he wished to forget the whole thing he hadn't intended for Charles to drink over it. He had merely hoped that they would be able to move on past this whole issue, and pretend as though it had never happened.

Which had seemed so much easier than it did now.

Perhaps Edwin should have followed in Charles's lead.

Then again, who would have helped him home? Charles had the rest of the team here, but who would have helped Edwin? Would he had been at the mercy of Crystal or Simon coming to get him?

The idea of either one of them picking him up from a bar, drunk and likely crying made him what to die.

But here they were, with multiple of Charles's friends around, and it was Edwin Mack had requested help him home. He wasn't sure why, if he simply knew that they had come together or if it was because he genuinely thought he would be helpful or what, but either way Edwin was going to try and prove him right.

"Let's go," Edwin said, directing him out. Charles tried to use his legs, though he supposed it was a mixed success. Either way, they managed to move through the bar and get outside with limited interference.

He wondered where Brad or Hunter had gotten off to. The last time he had seen Brad he and Maren had been fighting, but that sort of seemed like their default and didn't seem to truly have a bearing over where he might be now.

"I don't wanna go home," Charles said, his words a puff of air against Edwin's neck. He ignored the way it made the hairs there raise up, the way it sent a shiver down his spine. He'd felt the other's lips on his, there was no reason he should be getting all worked up over such a small thing.

"Too bad," Edwin said.

"We could get food," Charles said. "That sobers people up."

Edwin raised an eyebrow as he tried to direct Charles towards some of the cars out front. "I think you are past that point."

Suddenly, Charles jerked backwards, moving out of reach. Edwin cursed, aware that he should have kept a better hold on him, as now they seemed to be having some sort of stand off outside the bar.

People stepped around them as they stared each other down, though with Charles's drunken swaying it was definitely hard to see exactly where he was looking. Car headlights flashed by as people picked up other drunken patrons or dropped them off, and somewhere in the distance there was a siren blaring.

It reminded Edwin of the sirens after his accident. The way they had eventually all bled together despite him begging for the noise to stop. Simon had yelled for them to cut them, but it had only added to the noise.

But that wasn't important. This was, right here, standing on the sidewalk outside a bar with Charles.

"Wanna make a bet?" Charles asked.

Edwin rolled his eyes. "Charles, please," he said. He glanced at some of the people waiting by cars, trying to see if he could recognize any of them. Would he recognize any of his fellow freshmen, even if they were hockey players? It felt unlikely.

"I wanna make a bet," Charles said, raising his voice. A couple of girls walking past glanced at him, laughing as they went.

"Well I don't," Edwin snapped, and immediately regretted it. None of this was Charles's fault. The last thing he wanted to do was snap at him even more than he already had.

"You always say that," Charles said, drawing out the the s's just a bit longer than necessary, as if he had to think about them. "You fight, I ask, and we do it, that's how this works."

Edwin shook his head. Was that a hockey player? Why wouldn't they make themselves more obvious if they were in charge of picking someone up?

Likely because Charles would recognize them, if he would simply look. But he was refusing, it would seem.

"That is not how this works," Edwin said.

"See, already on step one," Charles said, grinning. "'sides, you don't even know what I wanna bet."

Edwin wondered how he had ever hated the warm temperature in the bar. The air outside had somehow managed to sink down through Charles's hoodie and jersey and into his bones, forcing his teeth to clank together as he tried to stay warm.

Where the fuck was the DD?

Charles took a step toward him, and Edwin had to fight to keep himself from going to him or pulling back from him. Either one seemed as likely, and yet he didn't want to do either one of them.

"I bet," Charles said, "I bet that I still remember all of this in the morning." He took another step towards Edwin, one foot in front of the other, though they were shaky and less than sure.

Edwin sucked in a breath, the cold nearly choking him. The lines had died down outside, leaving them and a few scattered patrons standing around.

"I thought we agreed to forget about it," Edwin said, and Charles shook his head.

"I bet I remember it," he repeated, as if Edwin hadn't heard him. As if Edwin could hear anything other than Charles or the hummingbird beating of his heart.

"What do you get if you win?" Edwin asked, stepping forward. "What do you get if you remember?"

Charles grinned, and God did Edwin so love that smile on him. That beautiful, slightly crooked smile that could power a small city if only they could harness it. But his smile wasn't something you could capture, no force that pure or strong could ever be contained. Only in it's natural state, in someone like Charles, would it ever work.

"I get to kiss you," Charles said. "Again. 'cause I remember."

Edwin thought back to the night he had called him. The first time Charles had ever called him. He'd rambled on and on, never once seeming to let up the entire time. All of it had been about Edwin, too, as if Edwin simply had to know what he was thinking about while he was out with his friends.

The call had been remarkably short but it had been burned into Edwin's mind.

As well as the fact that Charles hadn't remembered even doing so the next morning.

He looked at Charles, his determined but wobbling form. "And what do I get if you fail to remember?" Edwin asked. Because he would forget, there was no way he wasn't already blackout drunk.

That sunshine smile was back. "Then you get to kiss me."

Despite everything, Edwin smiled. He wanted to accept it, to nod and agree because either way it meant he got to kiss Charles again, but he knew that he couldn't. Not with everything else he had thought earlier.

Besides, there were more important things to focus on. Like getting both of them home safely.

"No," Edwin said. "I am not going to make a bet with you when you are drunk."

Because it wasn't fair, was it? To make a bet over something like this when one of them couldn't really understand what they were getting into.

He turned around, hoping to catch sight of their designated driver. There had to be someone who would recognize Charles out here, right?

He took a few steps down the sidewalk, looking at the cars parked next to the street. Charles stumbled after him, calling his name the entire time, but Edwin didn't stop.

Charles's hand wrapped around his wrist loosely. Just strong enough to pull him to a stop. If Edwin fought against it, then it might throw him off his balance and that was the last thing Edwin wanted to do.

Well, the actual last thing he wanted to do was be having this conversation. But he supposed that that was a close second.

"Rowland!" someone called out.

Both of them stopped to see who was calling his name. Across the street a guy stepped out of a car, a sash slung around his body that read "Ride Me, I'm the DD."

Edwin looked skeptically at Charles. This was who was meant to drive him home?

Charles, however, was already giggling under his breath. "We've got a bunch of those sashes. The freshies have to wear them on DD duty."

"Yes, I gathered that," Edwin said, adjusting Charles's hold on his wrist so they could hold hands while they crossed the street.

"Mack said you needed a ride," the DD said, side eyeing Edwin. "You too?"

"No," Edwin said, shaking his head, at the same time Charles said, "Yes!"

Sighing, the DD opened the door and shook his head. "Man, I don't care. Just get in."

"Thank you, Alex," Charles said. Which then turned into him singing a song, something Edwin was sure he recognized but couldn't quite recall. Either way it was loud, offkey, and likely something he should know already. "Devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes…"

Charles flopped inside, his tall form taking up all of the backseat. Not that Edwin would have wanted to get inside with a stranger behind the wheel anyways, but still.

The DD, Alex, leaned around Edwin and shut the door, cutting off Charles's song. He tried not to worry, to point out that Charles wasn't buckled in or secured in anyway, that it would be so easy for something to happen and Charles get hurt and—

That was extremely unlikely. They were only a handful of blocks away from campus, the odds of anything happening were low. But not impossible.

"So, did you need a ride?" he asked.

"Um," Edwin said, looking at Charles. Someone needed to make sure he got home alright, didn't they? Sure, this person was his teammate and seemingly a set arrangement that the team had agreed upon, but how did Edwin know he could trust him? He had just let Charles flop into the back seat and didn't even buckle him in!

He could get sick and choke while laying down. Or they could wreck and he could get hurt. Or his teammate might not make sure he got upstairs safely. The list could go on and on, really, if Edwin thought about it.

And unfortunately for him, he was good at overthinking things.

"Yes," he said. Then, because he wasn't sure exactly how these things usually worked, he added. "I am in the same dorm as Charles." At least then he could walk home after getting him set up for the night.

Alex nodded and glanced at Charles in the backseat, who seemed content to sprawl out and make the seat belts sing at each other. "Why don't you sit up front with me," he said. "There's no getting through to him now."

Acid immediately filled Edwin's mouth as he looked towards the front seat. It was bad enough to ride in the car with someone else, but to be forced into the front seat?

He almost said no. He almost backed out and turned around so he could walk home. But one glance at Charles, still mumble-singing in the backseat was enough to have him agreeing to come along.

The car was warm as he climbed in, and Edwin immediately buckled himself in. Then, he raised his hands to the vents, trying to warm his fingers.

"DD jobs on Halloween are the worst," Alex said. He glanced at Edwin and then at Charles in the backseat. "I swear, they love to pick on freshmen. Fresh-meat's what they mean."

Edwin didn't point out that he was also a freshman— couldn't actually, as it seemed like bile had filled his throat and his teeth were grinding down so hard he could feel his jaw pop.

But Charles wasn't alone. And that was the most important thing.

About halfway home it seemed to register to Charles that Edwin was in the car with him. "Edwin?" he asked. "Ed-win. Win. Ed?"

Edwin opened his eyes he hadn't even realized he'd closed and turned to look over his shoulder. Charles was still laid out on the seats, no longer distracted by the stupid belts. Instead, he was staring at Edwin with stars in his eyes like he had never seen him before. He kept repeating parts of his name, Ed-Win. Ed. Win. Win. Eds, until Edwin finally opened his mouth.

"Yes?" he asked.

"You're in a car," he said. As if that wasn't obvious to everyone involved.

"I am," Edwin said.

"You don't do that."

Edwin shrugged. "I suppose there is a first time for everything."

Charles stared at him for so long Edwin wasn't sure he had understood him. "Oi, Edwin," he said, as if Edwin weren't staring right at him. At his goofy smile or the earring sparkling in the dim backseat. Or the shaved design part in his hair or the way one of his eyes crinkled just a little bit more when he smiled and showed his teeth.

"Yes?" he asked. He wanted to glance out the window, to see where they were and if they were nearly to the dorms yet, but he didn't. It would only make it worse if they weren't.

"I know we said forget it," he said, and Edwin felt his heart flutter. "And that's fine if you really wanna. But I meant my part of the bet. I'm gonna remember."

Edwin wished that were true. But the slurring of his words, the way his eyes were droopping just a bit too heavily like someone over the limit told Edwin all he needed to know.

"I hope you do," he said. And was surprised by how much he meant it.

Notes:

okay so um, wow. that was a big reaction you guys had to the last chapter
thank you??? <3
(ps, yes, charles is singing cruel summer. you can thank/blame niko for that one <3 )

Chapter 23: How Can We Go Back To Being Friends

Notes:

"You were layin' on my chest,
I still remember,
I was scared to take a breath, didn't want you to move your head,
How can we go back to being friends,
When we just shared a bed?
How can you look at me and pretend,
I'm someone you never met,"
back to friends by sombr

The room was spinning.

Well, no, Charles realized. The room wasn't spinning. The car was spinning.

No, the car wasn't spinning. Charles was just drunk.

Someone was singing, some song Niko had been obsessed with not too long ago. They sounded, awful, as if they didn't entirely know the words.

He sat up and realized it was himself.

A figure in the front seat turned around, and Charles felt his heart leap into his throat.

Edwin.

Edwin was sitting in the front seat of the car, his features highlighted by the red of the radio display. Red from the radio, red like his hoodie, red like his cheeks had been when he'd kissed him.

There was too much tension in his expression to be anything approaching relaxed, but Charles couldn't help but admire him all the same.

Even stressed out beyond belief, Edwin was more attractive than anyone else Charles had ever met.

"Charles?" he asked.

Charles forgot how words worked. Was he supposed to answer? How was he supposed to answer? With Edwin's name? With his own?

"Yep," he said, popping the 'p' a bit more than he meant to.

Edwin glanced away to whoever was driving up front with him. He knew the two of them were talking, though he couldn't understand what they were saying.

"No, I suppose not," Edwin answered this person, his brows furrowed. His entire body seemed so rigid, and Charles couldn't help but wonder what was wrong.

Did Edwin still feel off about the kiss? Was that what it was? Surely not. No, there had to be something else, Charles just had to get there…

Slowly, he slid across the backseat, and it hit Charles like a ton of bricks.

"Edwin, mate!" he said, shooting up. Or, so he tried to do. Half of his body ended up in the correct position while the other half ended up in the floorboard.

"Charles," Edwin said, his voice clearly panicked but trying to sound calm. "Stop moving."

"You're in a car," he said.

"Yes, I am. We have already been over this," Edwin said, impatiently. His knuckles were bleached white as he held onto the back of the seat to help himself look at Charles.

Charles wasn't quite sure why this was significant, only that it was. He knew that it was odd to see Edwin in a car, knew that it was wrong in a way that he didn't like.

But Edwin was still here. He hadn't left.

Charles had been so sure that he was gone. That he was never coming back again, because Charles had pushed too hard, had wanted it too much.

He knew that this didn't make sense, somewhere in his mind, but that place was too hard to find or figure out at the moment. So instead, he just let himself be grateful Edwin was there now.

The freshman DD, Alex, leaned around to also look back at him, and it fully sank in that they weren't alone.

He tried to grin at him, but he doubt it came off very well. Or very sincerely. It wasn't like he was upset that his teammate was there, but he did sort of ruin the vibes a bit. All his brain could and wanted to focus on was Edwin, and so having to split his attention between someone else was throwing him.

"Nearly home, Chucky," Alex said. "Just don't puke in my car."

Edwin gave him a clearly unimpressed look, and Charles couldn't help but laugh at his expression. It startled Edwin so much he turned back to Charles, and Charles tried not to let it go to his head that Edwin seemed a little bit happier overall when he looked at him.

Then again, why shouldn't he? Charles was making Edwin happy, even when he didn't want to be. Grumpy, pissy, uptight Edwin was happy when he looked at Charles.

God , if Charles could figure out how his body worked right now he would sit up and kiss him again.

"Alright, we're here," Alex said, tossing a cold bucket of water onto his ideas again.

In a blink of an eye, Edwin was out of the car. Even Alex could only blink in confusion at the speed he left, though he didn't go far. The door to the backseat opened a moment later, and Charles found himself grinning upside down at Edwin.

"Lovely seeing you here, mate," he said. "Come here often?" He burst out laughing at his own stupid joke, unable to hold back when he saw Edwin's annoyed—if not slightly amused expression.

"Please be quiet," Edwin mumbled, though he smiled when he thought Charles couldn't see it.

He definitely could, though, and Charles would count that as a win.

Getting him out of the car and up the stairs alone should have won Edwin a medal in patience and stubborn determination. Every time Charles thought about sitting down or tripped over his own feet, Edwin was there, tucking him in close and making sure he was safe.

He honestly didn't know if he had ever felt that safe before. That cared for. If he had, it certainly hadn't been in a long time.

Charles's arm was thrown over Edwin's shoulder as he tried to shuffle up the stairs. Edwin was tense, his entire body seeming to be split between it's desire to help Charles up the stairs or drop him down on his ass.

He was grateful Edwin went for helpful.

His hand caught on the edge of Edwin's— well, his— hoodie and pulled the neckline down. The very top of his jersey was exposed, reminding Charles of what had started all of this.

Edwin was wearing his jersey. Edwin had kissed him.

Edwin had clearly regretted their kiss.

Still, he couldn't help but think there were few things better than seeing Edwin in his jersey. There was always a risk when it came to every kiss, or every step forward in a relationship, Charles knew that, but God if he didn't feel like it was worth risking everything just for the chance to have seen him in it.

He was acting insane, he knew. Like a desperate, hopeless fool. But there was no shame in that, or at least he didn't think there should be.

What he felt in the morning once he was sober was none of his business.

He had tried to forget everything, really he had. Or at least pretend like he had. If that was what Edwin wanted, then that was what Edwin would get.

But his mouth and his heart had had other ideas.

Instead he told Edwin that he had tried to forget it, instead he told him that he wanted to remember it.

It wasn't fair to Edwin, he knew. If Edwin didn't want this, didn't want Charles then it was only fair to let him forget it. To pretend the whole thing had never happened.

All of this was just one, big, college mess. It happened. It had happened before and it would happen again. Maybe not to them, specifically, but it would. And the sooner one or both of them accepted that the better.

But blimey did Charles not want to.

"Are you trying to strangle me?" Edwin asked, his voice prissy and upset.

Charles released the hoodie's neckline, embarrassed that Edwin might have caught him glancing at his jersey and Edwin's collar bones in the same moment.

"That would be… bad," Charles said, unable to find the words for what it would truly be.

Edwin nodded, his face determined as he fought with the key. "Yes, it would be. Now, why won't this damn thing turn?"

Just as Edwin asked this, the lock clicked and the door swung open. Both of them fell, their main support now gone, leaving them groaning on the dirty dorm room floor.

Edwin was pinned underneath him, flat on his back. His eyes were wide as they looked up into Charles's, clearly startled that they had ended up like that.

Charles tried to shift off of him, to move so he wasn't literally sprawled on top of him, but his drunk limbs didn't want to work. It was as if they were filled with jelly, too heavy to move and too floppy to support him.

Deciding that all of that seemed like too much effort on his part, Charles sighed and dropped his head on Edwin's chest. He would move soon, he had to, but it all seemed so hard to do.

Plus, he couldn't really remember why he would want to do that at the moment. Everything felt right there, like it was supposed to happen this way. It felt slow and warm and that this was how they were supposed to be.

"Charles," Edwin said. He could hear his voice, feel it rumble throughout his chest under Charles's head.

He'd never really understood why girls liked laying on his chest. Not until now. He'd always thought it was a bit silly, weren't there better ways to lay? At least when he'd done it to girls they tended to be softer, less defined.

Now Charles couldn't imagine why any of that had ever mattered. He didn't care of Edwin's chest was muscular, if a bit scrawny. He didn't care that he was sure they were only inches from some of his dirty laundry that had failed to make it in the hamper or that their legs were sticking out of the room. All that mattered was that both of them were here.

"Charles," Edwin said, a little softer. "You need to get up."

"Hmmm," Charles said, snuggling down deeper into Edwin's chest. His own hoodie was soft and just big enough that he could almost make a pillow out of it if he were determined to, even when it was on Edwin's body.

"I am serious," Edwin said, though he didn't sound serious to Charles. Charles had heard him sound serious. And angry and scared and hurt and all those other bad emotions that he never wanted to hear from him again.

But now, he just sounded tired and… fond? Was that what he sounded? It was weird to described someone's voice that way, but that was the only way he could. Which had to be a win, right?

"That was one of those parties," he said, his words not quite making it out entirely.

"What?" Edwin asked.

"One'a those parties. Where you end up on the floor," he said.

It was weird to hear and feel Edwin laugh. His head bobbed up and down just briefly on his chest as he let out a couple of puffs of laughter.

"Oh," Edwin said. "You know, when you said that I assume it would be because I was drunk as well."

Charles grinned and shook his head, rubbing his face further into Edwin's chest. What was that scent? Vanilla? Something old fashioned and sweet, like bookstores or libraries, mixed with bar drinks and sweat.

Edwin had only had his hoodie for a few days but already it smelled like him. And Charles hoped it never smelled like himself again.

Did Edwin realize how much influence he had over Charles? That Charles was laying here, practically huffing the scent of him off of his own hoodie because he didn't think his legs would work properly and this was clearly a better alternative anyways.

"Better you weren't," Charles said, trying not to imagine what might have happened if Edwin had also been drunk. Nothing good, he was sure.

At least neither one of them had been drunk for their first kiss. That was at least a memory that could stay untouched by alcohol.

Fuck, though. First kiss? Like Charles was ever going to get a second one at this rate?

"Yes, I suppose it is. After all, who else would pick you up off the floor?" Edwin asked.

And with that, he wiggled out from underneath Charles, surprising him with his ability to somehow move him off without straight up dumping him onto the floor.

Charles couldn't help but laugh as Edwin wrangled him into a standing position and helped him to the couch. He felt weightless for a moment as he slid from Edwin's hands to plop down onto the pile of pillows he'd left on the spare bed in case Edwin had wanted to stay the night again.

That was of course before the kiss. The kiss, that kept running through his mind. Of course Edwin wouldn't want to stay the night with him now. He'd freaked out the other night from a bit of flirting at the party. What would he do because of a kiss?

Charles needed to reassure him that it was okay, that everything was fine. That he was fine if he wanted or needed to leave.

"You can go," Charles said.

Edwin froze where he was crouched in front of Charles's mini-fridge. "What?" he asked, his voice quiet.

Oops, not the right words.

"Home? You can go home, if you want?" he said, trying to make his point clear. Was it his words slurring or the words that were wrong? Or was it his tone? "Home!" he tried again, lifting his tone into something cheerful until he was laughing at nothing.

Edwin closed the fridge, the water bottle dangling in his hands. "Do you… want me to go home?" he asked.

There was something about the way that he said it, so careful and unsure that it twisted something inside Charles. A mix between his heart and his stomach, maybe some body part that no one had ever discovered yet.

Or maybe he was going to throw up.

"No!" Charles said, nearly panicking at the thought. He flung himself forward, sticking his arms out to try and reassure Edwin that was not what he was trying to say, and nearly knocked himself off the makeshift couch in the process.

"Oh, for Heaven's sake," Edwin said, scrambling to make sure Charles didn't fall.

The water bottle felt cool against his flushed skin, and Charles couldn't help but take it straight from Edwin's hands. Edwin, who put up no fight, could only sigh as he tried to sit him back up.

He leaned forward, moving into Charles's space. "Charles Rowland. Do you want me to leave?" he asked.

Charles stared into those green-gray eyes like he was hypnotized. He could have looked into them forever, honestly, as long as Edwin was willing to stand there. "Never want ya to go, mate," he said.

Edwin inhaled and stepped back. His hands left Charles's shoulders and Charles instantly felt lost for the lack of touch.

"Then I will stay," he said. As if it were that simple.

And apparently, it was, because Edwin stayed the whole night.

XXX

Charles woke up to someone's alarm going off, and he knew that it wasn't his. The noise was familiar enough, however that he felt as if he should know who's it was, but all he knew was that it was loud and obnoxious, and personally trying to drill a hole straight into his brain.

"Oi, shut up," he mumbled, face down into his pillow.

"I am trying to stop it, but— oh!"

A crash sounded somewhere behind Charles Something that sounded like some of his books falling from his desk, as well as something else, something heavier.

Someone.

"Ow. Why is your bed even lofted so much?"

Charles knew that voice.

He flipped over, ignoring the pounding in his head or the way the room spun in front of him. His stomach protested moving so much, though there was little it could do unless it wanted to turn up everything right onto the floor.

Which is where Edwin was currently laying, surrounded by a pile of his books. His legs were wrapped up in his comforter, which had clearly been pulled off of his bed, and his hand was still blindly reaching for his phone blaring on the desk top.

Charles blinked, as if that might make the scene before him make anymore sense. Edwin, laid out on his floor. His blanket around him. His books knocked over next to him.

"Did you— fall out of my bed?" he asked, trying to math out what was wrong here. "Wait, did you sleep in my bed?" He looked down and realized he was still laying on the spare bed, stripped down to his boxers. "What the fuck?"

Finally, Edwin freed himself enough to turn off his alarm. He collapsed back into the mess he had created with a huge sigh, and leaned his head back to look at Charles. His face quickly turned red when he spotted what Charles was wearing — or lack thereof, he was sure— and suddenly made a concentrated effort to get up off the floor.

"Yes, well, it did not seem like a good idea to let you sleep up there, considering your… status," he said.

Charles couldn't help but smile, despite the pounding in his head. "You mean hungover?"

Edwin frowned as he tossed Charles's blanket back up on to the bed. "I mean drunk."

"Right, because you handled it so well sober," he said.

Edwin rolled his neck, and Charles winced at the crack it gave. "Yes, well, I am not used to sleeping on such a tall surface."

Charles shook his head. "Are you alright?" he asked.

Edwin stared at him for a moment, as if there was something he actually wanted to ask instead, but eventually he nodded. "Yes. Almost landed on my feet, even."

"Like a cat, eh?"

"More like a figure skater who has been doing that since childhood," he said with a smile.

But it seemed sad. And not even in the way a lot of Edwin's smiles sometimes looked, like he wasn't sure he was allowed to smile entirely, but deeper. Like there was more.

Like he was waiting to see if Charles remembered.

Of course Charles did. He might not remember stripping down to his boxers or how Edwin had ended up in his bed and him on the makeshift couch, but he remembered the kiss. He remembered trying to make a bet with Edwin, to get him to— just for a second— give him a chance at another kiss.

And Edwin had said no.

That was enough for Charles. At least for now. Edwin had asked to forget it, and then even refused to make a bet, and while Charles might be stubborn, he could read a room. And this room clearly wanted to move past it all.

"Yet, you still didn't actually land on your feet," Charles said, aiming for teasing.

Edwin shook his head. "No, I did not."

Another one of his alarms went off, startling them both. At least it was a less intensive process to turn this one off.

"I have to go," Edwin said. "I promised Shelby that I would still go running with her this morning."

Charles blinked. "You and Shelby are both still going to go running?" he asked. "How much sleep did you get?"

"Enough," Edwin said dismissively. "But I need to leave now if I want to make it back in time to meet Shelby." He waved a hand down to his clothes, as if he needed to make it clear that he wasn't going to go running in Charles's hoodie and the nice pants he'd worn to the party.

Charles tried not to think of anything else Edwin had worn to the party. The hoodie, his jersey, — no. He was focusing. Instead he forced himself to think about how badly his head hurt, and how thirsty he was. An empty water bottle was beside his bed, as well as some medicine that Edwin must have dug out for him.

"Cool, lemme find some pants," Charles said, and then tried to pretend he wasn't embarrassed to be in his boxers in front of Edwin. He wouldn't be in front of any of the guys or even Niko, and if Edwin really was wanting to be "just friends," then he shouldn't be in front of him either.

Thinking this didn't make it true.

"Charles," Edwin said, his voice alone enough to stop him from tracking down where he had kicked them off. "I can walk myself home to get changed. Why don't you get some more rest?'

Charles looked up at Edwin, and he seemed serious. "But… I always walk you home," he said.

Edwin nodded as he hunted down where he had placed his shoes the night before. "Yes, which is what you said last night when I tried to leave. But I will be fine walking home alone, and you need to sleep."

Great, good to know that Charles had been clingy the night before, too.

"Yeah, okay then," he said, tugging his legs back under the blankets. "Well, um, I'll see you for lunch then later, right?"

Edwin paused for a moment, his back to Charles. "Actually, Shelby and I are going to grab lunch together."

Stinging pain flickered through Charles's chest. "Well, how about dinner? Are you gonna practice at Crystal's tonight? My treat."

A short, tired sigh was dragged out of Edwin as he slowly stood to his full height. "Normally the answer would be yes, but I believe Simon and I are studying."

"Tomorrow night then," Charles offered.

"Crystal and I have plans." The and you're not invited hung so heavily in the air Charles could feel it physically pressing down on him.

"Right," Charles said, leaning back against the wall behind him. He jutted out his jaw, as if that would stop the burning in his throat or the stinging in his eyes.

"It's just a busy week," Edwin said, his voice soft.

And maybe it was. Edwin was allowed to have busy weeks here and there. But last week had also been pretty busy, and they'd still found plenty of time to hang out together.

Could it really all be written off as him being "too busy" or was he trying to avoid Charles?

"Know the feeling," Charles said, though there was no emotion in it.

He could feel Edwin's eyes on him, though he refused to look up. If he did he actually would cry.

"Cha—"

Edwin's alarm went off again. The sigh of frustration he let out was far closer to a curse this time as he just flat out powered his phone off. The room seemed strangely quiet after all the noise, and Charles hated how well he could hear every single breath either one of them took.

It made him focus too much on himself. It made him remember how Edwin had sounded right before the kiss, the way he had whispered his name and then only his breath had answered him as they'd pressed their lips together. It made him want all of those things again, even if he knew he wasn't supposed to.

"We can schedule some other time later," Charles said, though he had the creeping suspicion they might never do that.

Edwin nodded and left. As he did, Charles noticed his jersey neatly folded in the laundry hamper next to his bed.

That was when Charles actually let himself cry.

XXX
Edwin, it would seem, was once again proving that he could turn into a ghost at a moment's notice.

Sure, he wasn't avoiding Charles this time, or so he claimed. But he certainly wasn't making it easy to see him, either.

Between classes, practices, Edwin's meetings and meals with other people, and Charles's own schedule, it had been almost a week since they'd last seen each other.

Not that Charles was going to force the issue. He'd tried to do that before, and look at where they had ended up.

They still talked on the phone, but Charles felt the loss of his physical presence like a literal missing limb. And their conversations were very surface level, too, if Charles was honest. How their day had been, plans for the next day, that sort of thing.

But that was okay. They were friends, and that was how these things worked sometimes.

The rink was nearly empty when Charles showed up, though he'd at least seen Jenny's car outside. Becky and Emma waved to him from afar as their parents led them out, clearly having no time for a distraction.

"Charles!" Niko yelled as she changed from her skates to her street shoes. "I haven't seen you in forever!"

He smiled and held his arms out for a hug, which she was quick to give him. Her white hair tickled his nose as she squeezed him like she might need to wring him out with her arms alone.

It really had been too long since he'd seen her. College was so different from back home, where even though they'd gone to different schools, he had seen her nearly every day.

But he guessed that was another thing about growing up. Or maybe he hadn't known what to say to her either, just like Edwin didn't seem to know what to say to him.

"You're just in time! Class just finished, and I was thinking about an early dinner. You, me, caf food, and a movie?" she asked.

Charles deflated a bit. Terrible food and movies with Niko sounded like exactly the type of thing he wanted to do, but he couldn't. Not until they got to the bottom of this whole mess. "Actually, I've gotta lock up here tonight," he said "But Edwin's doing something with Simon, so it shouldn't be too late if you still wanna."

"Simon?" she asked, surprised. "Those two have been spending some… time together."

Yeah, Charles guessed. They had been. Time that the two of them used to spend together. It was hard not to feel bitter about that, even if Charles knew it wasn't likely something Edwin had done on purpose.

Still, it felt like he was losing a game he wasn't even meant to be playing. And he couldn't help but wonder how Simon was handling all of his extra time with Edwin.

"Speaking of that," Charles said. "I actually wanted to ask you something."

Niko brushed some invisible lint from her mint colored outfit. Even her hair accessories matched, cute little flowers that bobbed and swayed as she moved. "About Simon?"

"About Edwin," he corrected.

Sparkles practically formed in her eyes. "Ooh, questions about Edwin, hm? Fire away!"

Charles tried not to be bothered by how she was acting. As if this were a joke or a game— something fun, and not Charles or Edwin's heart on the line

"Did you tell him to wear my jersey?" Charles asked, his voice low and flinty.

It seemed as though Niko didn't even notice. She clapped her hands together and squealed. "O-M-G! Yes, I did! Did he do it? Did you love it? Did you tell him you love him?"

Charles inhaled and exhaled once, twice, three times before he tried to speak. "Niko. Why would you do that?" he asked.

Actual confusion seemed to cloud her expression for a moment. She finished cleaning off her skates as she walked over to her bag. "Because you two are obviously in love and needed a little push? And I know how all you hockey boys feel about people wearing your jerseys. It's like a horny magnet or something."

Any other day he would cringe at her describing him or Edwin next to the idea of a "horny magnet," but not today. All he felt was anger. At Niko, at himself— fuck maybe even a bit at Edwin, though he knew that none of his anger was rational at the moment.

But knowing something and acting like it were two different things.

"Niko, you can't do that. You didn't even tell him what it was for! He— God, that's not what he wanted, Niko," Charles said. He tried so bloody hard to keep his voice in check, to not yell or rage at her because that's what his dad would have done. And Charles might be many things, but he prayed to anyone listening that it wasn't like his dad.

Niko's brows scrunched together. Her minty eyeshadow only accentuated the expression of utter bewilderment. "Are you sure? Because I've seen the way you two look at each other, and it looks pretty…" She trailed off, clearly registering the look on Charles's face.

His hands were shaking. He knew he'd never do anything to hurt or scare Niko, but they ached to do something. Throw something, break something, even just crumple up something as insignificant as a wad of paper if it came to that.

"That doesn't matter, Niko," Charles said, unable to stop the anger from raising his voice. And Christ, maybe it wasn't just anger. There was plenty of hurt and confusion in it, too, he was sure, which only made him feel worse. Like some sort of endless cycle, a self fulfilling prophecy. "I don't care what you thought was between us, but it's not there. Especially not now."

If it was there, he wouldn't feel like a hole had been dug out of his chest where his heart should be. He wouldn't feel like he'd somehow messed up the rarest chance in the world he'd ever had and he hadn't even known it at the time.

He wasn't even sure why he was yelling at Niko. This wasn't her fault, it was his. All his.

Niko's lip wobbled for a moment, before she bit down on it. "That's not true! I've never seen you so in love with someone, and Crystal said the same thing about Edwin," she said.

"Oh yeah, well what do either of you know!"

"Hey!"

Crystal's voice rocketed across the rink like a gunshot. Both Niko and Charles stopped, as if they had both instantly become aware of where they were and who might be listening.

Crystal crossed her arms as she approached, her boots stomping the whole way over. "What the hell is going on here?" she asked.

Neither one of them spoke. Charles felt anger and shame competing for the top spot on his list of feelings. Still, he wasn't going to back down right now. This was too important. Edwin was too important to him.

"We were arguing," Niko said.

"Yeah, I can see that," Crystal said. "Heard it, too. In fact, I bet the whole goddamn building heard you."

It was like getting talked down to by his Coach. Standing there, head down, his hands behind his back because if he didn't he might do something stupid.

It was a feeling Charles was all to familiar with and he hated it.

"Sorry," he mumbled. It was the least he could do, even if he didn't think he was exclusively the one who should be apologizing.

"What were you two even arguing about?" she asked.

Charles shifted his weight from foot to foot. He didn't want to argue, especially not in front of Crystal.

Then again, maybe Crystal was exactly who needed to be in this conversation. She knew Edwin the best out of everyone, and clearly she and Niko had gotten closer the last few months. Maybe she could talk to some sense into her.

"Charles doesn't think he and Edwin are in love," Niko said.

Crystal's eyebrows raised as she looked back and forth between them.

"That's not— that wasn't the point," he said "The point was that whatever's going on with us is between us, and I didn't want anyone….messing with it," he finished lamely.

"Edwin agreed to wear the jersey!" Niko said. "I told him you'd love it and he wanted to wear it!"

"That's not the same thing as saying we wanted to f—"

"Okay, wait, I'm missing something," Crystal said, waving her arms in front of them to cut them off. "What's this about Edwin and jerseys?"

Niko clasped her hands together in front of herself. "I told Edwin that Charles would love it if he wore his jersey for him," she said. "Which I bet he did."

Crystal's eyebrows nearly shot into her hairline. "Niko," she said, trailing off. She closed her eyes and ran a hand down her face.

"It was just a little nudge," Niko said softly.

Charles practically begged Crystal with his eyes to understand how important this was. And how un-little of a nudge this was.

"Niko, why would Edwin wear Charles's jersey?" she asked.

"Because it's how you show you want to have sex with the player," she said.

"Right. Thought it might be something like that," Crystal muttered under her breath as she turned to pace. Her boots scuffed against the ground, a rhythmic sound that grated against all of his overworked nerves. "Okay, uh— did he do it?" she asked, looking to Charles.

He nodded, unable to find the words.

Crystal let out a long, drawn out sigh. "And… did he know what it was supposed to mean?"

"No," Charles said quickly. "And I didn't ask him to do it, seriously, Crystal, I didn't. Not that he's not fit, obviously, but I wouldn't ask him to do that— not like that. Not that I would ask him another way but—"

She held up her hand, a clearly grossed out look on her face. "Ew, don't say that. Stop saying anything, in fact. The last thing I wanna think about is Edwin and sex." She turned to look at Niko, her expression careful but kind. "Niko. Don't you think Edwin should've known what something like that meant?"

Niko's eyes were slowly welling with tears, and Charles suddenly felt like the biggest douche on Earth. "I just thought— it works in the books!"

Crystal nodded, though she seemed far more tired than she had when she walked over here. "Okay. Yep."

The urge to defend Niko was overwhelming, despite it being himself he was needing to defend against. Charles never wanted to see her upset or sad, but he couldn't back down. If he did, then this would never stop, never be resolved.

Before she could say anything else, Charles started up again. "We don't need anyone to interfere with us. There's not even an us to interfere with, just to be clear. And even if there was, there certainly isn't now that Edwin doesn't want anything to do with me."

Crystal rolled her eyes. "Dramatic, much?" she asked.

Charles shook his head. "No. Not dramatic enough! Edwin kissed me and now he wants nothing to do with me."

Both of the girls spun on him and he felt as though he had truly fucked up.

"He kissed you?" Niko asked, bouncing up and down.

"He kissed you!?" Crystal asked, less excited and far more concerned. "When?"

This was not how he wanted this conversation to go. He had wanted to make his feelings clear to Niko about her meddling and then move past it all. Like he always did. Not that Niko ever really interfered with his past "relationships," but the point still stood. Or at least it did in his mind.

He didn't want to stand around and gossip about the best and the worst thing that had ever happened to him. All he wanted to do was lock up after everyone, and then go home. Maybe watch a sad movie and pretend that's what he was crying about instead of Edwin.

"At the Halloween party," he said.

"Were you drinking?" Crystal asked, and Charles tried not to be offended by that.

"No. Well, not yet anyways. And Edwin didn't drink at all, that I saw," he said. He left out the fact that Edwin had made sure he made it home—even going so far as to get into a car with him. That wasn't what he was here to deal with, though he had been kicking it around the last few days.

"See?" Niko asked. "It was just a little nudge! And that nudge got you guys to kiss!"

Charles shook his head. "And then he asked to forget it."

Crystal cursed under her breath. "Yeah, sounds like Edwin," she said. As if it were a bad thing. As if any of this was supposed to be his fault and not Charles's.

"I agreed," Charles said, and both girls stared at him again. "To forget it."

"You what!?" Niko asked, spinning until she was holding on to his arm. Her street shoes squeaked against the floor from the speed she had moved. "Charles! You can't just kiss someone and forget it! It matters!"

"Unless you kissed them and it didn't matter," Crystal said. It was like pieces of Charles's heart shattered even more. "Not saying that's what happened, but, you know. It happens."

Niko looked at her. "Not when it's true love," Niko said, determined.

"I didn't say anything about love," Charles said quickly.

"See," Crystal said with a point. "Charles isn't saying anything about love. Edwin probably isn't either. It was one kiss at a Halloween party, it doesn't have to be the end of the world."

"Unless it's not just one kiss," Niko said back with far more heat than Charles had ever heard her use towards Crystal before. "Because why would it be just one kiss? When they've been hanging out together all semester, and clearly love each other."

"It was only one kiss," Charles said, but no one was listening to him anymore. Even Niko had let go of his arm and was standing in front of him.

"Who knows what love looks like! For anyone! Maybe they love each other, maybe they don't, but who knows!" Crystal said, throwing her arms up.

"I know!" Niko said and stormed off.

Charles stood there in the wake of Hurricane Crystal and Niko. If the rink had seemed quiet before it was absolutely dead silent now. If he thought there was even a single chance that Jenny or Mick hadn't heard them before he was sure they had now.

Crystal's form almost seemed to be shaking as she took a steadying breath. "I'm sorry," she said.

"Don't be," he said. "Though I really feel like we're not talking about me and Edwin anymore."

To his shock, Crystal let out a quiet sob as she suddenly sat down on one of the benches. He stepped forward, unsure what he should do. Comfort her? Offer her a hug? Sit next to her? Ignore her while she pulled herself together?

Charles knew which one he would prefer, but that rarely ever helped anyone.

He leaned against the boards, facing her but not looking at her. The cement walls were chilly against his back, helping cool his head and his anger.

"Sorry," she said again and wiped at her face. "You're right. This wasn't about you and Edwin. Well, I mean it was about you and Edwin, but… not really."

She twisted her cardigan in her hands, the faded purple material bunching and wrinkling as she did it again and again. One of her fingers worked through the material, gently pushing a whole through one of the knitted seams. Or was it crocheted? Charles never knew the difference.

"You know Edwin's never been on a date," she said, reminding him of the fact that had kicked this whole thing off in the first place. "He's never been on a date, never been kissed, never… never been in love before. Not that I know of, anyways," she said.

Charles let himself slide down the wall until he was sitting across from her. His feet were just long enough that if he reached out he could kick one of her feet, which he gently did. He smiled when she looked up at him, as if he might be able to encourage her to keep going based on that smile alone.

"We've talked about you two, a lot," she said. "About if you two like each other, if you wanna fuck each other. If you two love each other." She leaned back against the bench, her hair draping over the back. "You know Niko, she loves love. And I think… I think I love that about her. And maybe more than that."

Charles had already known that there was something between Crystal and Niko well before this moment. But if he had ever doubted, this all but confirmed it for him.

"But… it's scary. Being in love. With a person or a thing or whatever because you can lose it," she said. "And I know Edwin doesn't wanna be afraid."

Charles nodded, though he wasn't sure how to respond to that. He knew all about fear, about feeling as though you weren't good enough for someone or something or like you didn't deserve to have such a good thing.

But, Charles wouldn't lie and say that it wasn't worth it. That feeling he got in his chest when he looked at Edwin, that hope that burned through him when he saw his name light up his phone screen.

The dreams he had where it was just the two of them. Sometimes walking through parks laughing, sometimes at a hockey game with the game on the line and Charles getting a kiss for scoring the winning goal.

"And you don't wanna lose Niko," he said quietly.

"And I don't wanna lose Niko," she nodded.

"Crys," he said, scooting forward so she had no choice but to look at him. The floor was hard and his ass already ached from sitting on it. "I don't know how to tell you this, but I don't think you or Edwin could get rid of us that easily."

She laughed, though it still sounded so close to a sob. It seemed strange that someone like Crystal would be crying over anything, much less something like this.

"I'm serious. We're stubborn. It's not like we're just going away," he said, proud that he could at least make her laugh.

"And what if we wanted that," she said. "What if Edwin or I really, really, really wanted you guys to fuck off?"

Charles shook his head. "Then we'd have to figure out what the fuck we possibly did to lose you two."

Her smile was back, though not nearly as happy as it usually was. "Edwin wouldn't want that. Believe me, I've seen him around people he doesn't want around, and… you're not it."

Well, that at least had to count for something, he supposed.

"Dunno. He seems pretty intent on ignoring me," he muttered.

"He's embarrassed," she said. "No surprise there." Her eyes flicked over him, looking for something. "Did he really kiss you?"

Charles nodded, remembering how nice those brief moments had been. "He did. And then said 'let's forget it' and I said, 'cool, that's what friends do.'" He banged his head back against the wall and winced in pain.

"No offense, but I'd avoid you, too," she said.

"I know!" Charles groaned. "Did he not tell you any of this?"

Crystal frowned. "No," she said, shaking her head. "But I should've guessed. He was acting so… squirrely."

"Please don't tell him I told you," Charles said. "I didn't even wanna tell Niko, but I had to ask her if she actually told him to wear my jersey, and then one thing led to another and now…"

"And now we're sitting here, crying like idiots?" Crystal asked.

Charles had to agree with that one, despite how pitiful it made him feel. "Yeah, I guess."

He rubbed his hands against his jeans, wiping away the sweat that had built up. In the distance a door slammed and Charles wondered if that was Jenny or Mick's less than subtle way of reminding them that they were still here.

Internally, he debated how he would make this up to Niko. It hadn't been his intention to start a fight in the first place, his emotions had just got the better of him, despite the fact that he knew better than to let that happen.

But that would have to wait. At least until he was done here tonight.

"I don't know if I love Niko," Crystal said, breaking into his thoughts. "Not in the way that she means it. That all consuming, fairytale, never ending sort of way. But I do love her. A lot," Crystal said.

She leaned forward again and rested her elbows on her knees. She seemed so tired, and once again Charles wondered how she could possibly be running this place alone. Even with the limited children's programs she was doing, there was still a lot that went into it, and Charles wasn't sure how one person was supposed to do it by themselves.

Crystal twisted her foot on the ground, as if she were trying to grind out all of these bad feelings. "After David… everything just got so much more complicated."

That wasn't where he had expected the conversation to go, though he supposed he should have. "Edwin's mentioned his name a couple of times, but he never explained."

"Good, I wouldn't want him to," she said, her voice hard. It reminded him of her telling him that whatever Edwin wanted to tell him about how he got hurt was his business and Crystal wouldn't do it and figured this must be more of the same.

Except this one was Crystal's story to tell.

"So, who was David?" he asked.

"David was… everything. Or at least I thought he was," she said. "I met him when I was sixteen, and we immediately hit it off. Rich parents who didn't care about us, limitless money to burn, never saying no to a party or alcohol or anything like that."

Her eyes glazed over, clearly remembering. "I thought he was different. He made me feel different. I realize now, it wasn't in a good way."

She sighed. "Long story short, he was a piece of shit. And I took that out on everyone around me; my parents, my friends, Edwin. When I wasn't busy ghosting them, that is."

Charles couldn't imagine a Crystal who ghosted Edwin. Or who took anything out on him. He'd seen the fierce way she reacted any time she was worried about him, the way she had begged Charles to go to his competition so he wouldn't be alone, the way she'd gotten worried earlier about the circumstances surrounding their kiss. The way she kept Edwin's private business between them, never telling Charles more than he needed to know.

It seemed impossible that there had ever been a different version of them.

But people changed, he guessed.

"But you two got past it," he said.

"We did. Or we are. Sometimes it still feels like we're back there. And I'm screaming at him and he's screaming at me and we're swearing we're never gonna talk to each other again."

That was such a strange concept to Charles. He and Niko had had their fights over the years, but they had never screamed at each other, and they had certainly never said they'd never talk to each other again.

Earlier had been the closest to such a thing, and even that didn't register on the same scale, he knew. Just the idea of it made him sick and sorry.

"Why did you? Talk to each other?"

Her eyes clouded over, a dark look settling in as she thought about it. "He had his accident. And I thought I was going to lose my best friend."

Charles sucked in air through his teeth. No matter how many times he heard about it, he was sure he would never get used to that idea. The idea that Edwin could have died before Charles ever even got to meet him… It was wrong. That wasn't how the world was supposed to work.

"So it really was as bad as Simon makes it sound."

"I won't tell you anything you can't find from news reports," she said. Though it had never occurred to Charles to really look him up before. At least, not about something like this. He wasn't sure it would make him feel any better, either. "But I will tell you that it really was bad. And that, realistically, Edwin probably shouldn't even be competing this year."

Charles thought about how determined Edwin was, how he acted like if he didn't skate this year he might never skate again. It was something Charles both admired and worried about in him.

"Jesus, I felt so stupid," Crystal said. "We hadn't even spoken in… months? Maybe? When I got the call that he was in the hospital. And David, he just…" She sighed. "I knew that David had been a problem for a while, but hearing him laugh like it wasn't a big deal… It made everything clear to me in an instant."

"I woulda killed him," Charles said. That anger that sounded like his dad, that sounded liked cracking belts and slurred words and accusations filtered up, and for once he didn't flinch away from it.

She nodded. "Yeah. We fought, and I'll spare you the details, but I made it clear that we were done, that I never wanted to see him again."

"It sounds so stupid to say that's why I'm scared, but it is," Crystal said. "Because it had all seemed so real with David, and I know Niko isn't like that at all but…"

Charles might never have been in love with anyone, but at least he'd never experienced that, either. But he had watched his dad beat down everything he loved in his mum until it was nearly gone, even if it wasn't physically. He could understand that feeling, that terrifying sort of drop in your stomach that happened when you thought about how much that person could hurt you or you could hurt them, if only you were careless.

"And I know you're not like that, too," Crystal said after a moment. Charles felt his heart lighten at her words. The fact that someone had looked at him and thought he was capable of a more gentle love than his father it… It meant everything. "You've been so good with Edwin, and even though I wanna bash both your heads together and just make you figure it out, I know it doesn't work that way."

"I don't know how good I am with Edwin," Charles admitted. "It seems like no matter what I do, we're constantly fighting over something or other."

She smiled. "That's practically a love language to Edwin," she said.

Charles figured there must be some truth to her statement. He did so love to argue, to bicker, even if they weren't serious about it. Though, he didn't think he appreciated these kinds of arguments, but what did Charles really know.

"Well, I don't really know what's left to figure out," Charles said, scuffing his foot on the floor. "Think it might just be one of those things that… don't work out."

Crystal stared at him, inspected him as if he were under a microscope. "Maybe. Or maybe you two just have to show that you're not afraid."

"That's pretty good advice," he said, tapping her foot with his again. "You might wanna listen to yourself."

She smiled. "Nah, I'm pretty much a 'do as I say, not as I do' type of person," she said. "But I'll work on it."

"I sort of figured you and Niko had pretty much figured everything out," he said. "I've also never seen her like this, you know. She's never really dated anyone. Or even really expressed interest in anyone like that."

"Yeah, I know. The two of us do communicate, at least a little bit better than you two," she said, nudging him back with her foot.

"But that's also what makes all of this so scary, too. Because I want this to be good for her, too, you know? Not just me."

Charles could understand that. He felt that every time he did something for Edwin under the guise of "college experiences" or "making sure he understood standards." It was scary to realize you actually were setting the standards for someone.

No one wanted to be like his dad or David.

"I think you're doing a pretty good job," Charles said. "Believe me, Niko would make it clear if it wasn't romantic enough."

That much it seemed both of them knew.

"So, what, we just agree to not give up?" Crystal asked. "Kinda lame. Like the power of friendship or something."

She could downplay this all she wanted, but Charles truly had felt something shift between them here. There was a sort of clarity that previously hadn't been there before, even if he had no clue how it hadn't. Niko and Crystal weren't ages ahead of him and Edwin, like he'd thought, they were stumbling through all of this just as much as they were, if not more.

Maybe that's what love was. Two people stumbling through things, together. And as long as they stayed together everything would end up fine.

Before he could open his mouth and spill his sappy guts out to Crystal, the sound of footsteps reach both of them. They jumped up and swiped at their faces, as if that might be able to hide that they had been crying like idiots.

To their surprise it was Edwin. Almost the last person either one of them had expected to see.

He stood a little ways off, awkwardly shuffling his feet. "Um. Jenny told me you two were over here," he said. "But I can always come back if…"

"No!" they said in unison.

Edwin froze, clearly startled. "Right." He nodded his head a bit, as if working through his own thoughts at the moment. "And are you two… okay?"

Charles plastered on a smile. "Just peachy, mate," he said, which earned him a gentle jab in the ribs from Crystal. "I thought you weren't training tonight?"

"Oh," Edwin said, then looked away. "Well, I… yes. I had said that. I had no plans to, but then Simon said—" He shook his head, brushing off whatever it was he said in a way that made Charles proud if a little upset that it had to happen at all. "It does not matter. I simply needed to skate."

Crystal and Charles exchanged looks though neither one of them said anything. What was there to say if Edwin didn't want to tell them? Besides, it's not as if they were being entirely honest about what they had been talking about.

Edwin gestured to his bag down at his side. "I am… going to get dressed now. Sorry for interrupting…"

"No, you really weren't—" Charles tried to say, but Edwin was already gone.

Crystal frowned as she checked her watch. "I should get going. Niko's probably home by now, and if I don't hurry, I'll miss her heading out to her tutoring session."

Charles nodded, still watching as Edwin disappeared into the locker rooms. "Got it," he said. "I'll call her tomorrow and let her know I'm sorry."

"You better," she threatened. "And take care of him for me. Or I'll have to kick your ass."

"Back atcha," he said, pushing her towards the door.

He sat down, waiting for Edwin to come back. He knew that he would likely need to change and possibly stretch back there, depending on how in depth he was going to train. But that was fine, Charles could wait.

He could wait as long as Edwin needed him to. For this, and for everything.

Notes:

so sorry about the late upload! I got so sucked into writing for the apocalaugust week that is coming up that it cut into my hockey time lol!
I hope you guys enjoyed though!

Chapter 24: Oh, No, I'm Gonna Be There Always

Notes:

"I don't know if someone else could handle me,
I don't know what I'm supposed to be,
You're the only one who really sees, you get me,
I feel something growing deep inside of me,
What I say and what I mean, always seem to disagree,
So help me through his hard time,
change these fault lines
Oh no, I'm gonna be there always,
After all the pain has gone away,
The feelings are so strong,
This can be our song, this can be our song,
Oh no, I'll never make you cry again,
I'm gonna set this right again,
And I won't let them go wrong,"
- Our Song by Matchbox Twenty

It took far longer than Charles had expected for Edwin to change, and he couldn't help but wonder if that was because of him. If he knew that Charles was waiting next to the rink for him, waiting for even a chance to see him again.

There was so much he wanted to say to him, so much that he felt like he and Edwin really needed to clear the air on, but none of that really seemed possible. It was not as though he was going to admit to still thinking about the kiss, how it had seemed to be the only thing he truly could think about at times.

It wouldn't help. In fact, Charles was sure it would really only hurt. Both of them.

But he could be honest about how everything else had felt. How he didn't like feeling like Edwin was pulling away from him, how it made him feel like he wasn't even really his friend. That he understood being busy, really, he did, but there was obviously something else going on with everything as well.

Figured he owed that much to Crystal and Niko, right? To try and fix all of this before it got worse? He didn't have to be in a relationship with him to want to do better.

All of those thoughts flew out of his head when Edwin emerged from the locker rooms.

He'd changed his clothes and clearly warmed up back there as well. The beginning traces of sweat marked the edges of his hair, dampening it until it started to escape his normal pristine look.

Edwin whipped his hoodie down on a bench a couple down from Charles. His bag tipped over as it bumped against the the edge of the seat. It clattered to the floor, and Edwin cursed as he tried to fix it.

"Jeez, what'd they do to you?" Charles joked as he walked over to him.

The gasp Edwin let out would have been funny, if it hadn't been so terrified. His eyes were wide as he rounded on Charles, seeming to notice for the first time that he was still there.

"I thought you left?" Edwin asked, clearly confused.

Charles shook his head. "Nah, gotta lock up, right? That means I don't leave till you do."

That was the arrangement. That had been the arrangement for months now, but Edwin was acting as if this was the first time he had ever heard such a thing.

"Oh, um. Right," he said. Sheepishly, he set his bag upright and reached out to fold his hoodie before setting it properly down on the bench.

Charles noted that it wasn't his hoodie, with more than a small amount of disappointment. He knew that Edwin still had it, that he'd worn it home with him after the Halloween party, but he hadn't actually seen him (or the hoodie) since then.

Gracefully, Edwin sat down to put on his skates. It was like a performance, a study in how to be as controlled and calm as possible. And completely different than how he had been acting only moments before.

"You alright?" he asked, though it seemed pointless. Edwin had found him and Crystal nearly bawling across from each other and they had both denied anything was wrong. Why would Edwin tell him if anything was upsetting him?

Edwin nodded, though he said nothing more than a faint, noise of affirmation. He tightened his skates with far more effort than Charles had ever seen him do before, and sighed.

It felt like they were on the edge of something important, like Edwin was moments away from telling him what was wrong, or at least admitting that there was something wrong, but he didn't. Instead he sighed again and stood up from the bench.

It was always fascinating to see how skates added to your height. They were so close in height, that sometimes Charles forgot what it was like to look up at someone.

Charles tried not to watch him too closely as he moved out towards the ice. He hadn't been planning for him to show up and skate tonight, hadn't honestly thought he'd even see him once this week, so he hadn't even brought any homework to fill his time with. Instead all of his attention was free to go directly towards Edwin.

Which was exactly where he both wanted and didn't want it to be.

The urge to watch Edwin skate, so beautifully and effortlessly across the ice, was tempting, but he knew better. When Edwin was like this he was prone to being more anxious, more likely to make mistakes. And while Charles definitely wanted to be there for him before he went too far, he definitely didn't want to overwhelm him right from the start by watching him so closely.

He sighed and resigned himself to going and checking in with Jenny. It was what he would have likely done anyways before Edwin showed up, but now it felt like running and hiding. And after so long of fighting for a scrap of Edwin's attention it truly felt like giving up.

Still, he knew it would be for the best. At least for now.

XXX

Jenny seemed aware he was there before he even pushed open the swinging door to her kitchen.

"Charles Rowland, do not track your dirty feet across my freshly cleaned floors," she said.

Charles paused and then looked down at the wet floor. Without letting himself think about it, he hopped up on the edge of the counter, expertly avoiding her floors in the process.

She glared at him, though the expression wasn't all that different from her usual look. "That's not what I meant, either," she said. And she knew Charles knew that, too.

He grinned at her, kicking his feet over the floor. "What's up, Jenny?" he asked. He glanced around the counter tops he could see with curiosity. "Got any snacks?"

She jammed the mop deep into the bucket as she eyed him. "Why would I have any snacks?"

"You always have snacks for the kids," he said. Because despite how angry and pissed off Jenny always looked, she really did have a soft spot for kids. Crystal really couldn't have picked a better person to work at her rink, really.

"Last I checked you weren't a kid," she said, wringing out the mop. "I mean, you'll always be a kid compared to me, but you're not, like, actually a child."

Charles tried to wag his eye brows at her. "Are you saying I'm immature or blessed with young looks?"

She gave him another withering look. "I think you know which one I mean," she said. Once the mop was sufficiently drained she swiped it across the floor, moving to the other side of the kitchen.

Sighing, Charles leaned back against the wall, his legs still dangling over the edge. This wasn't the first time he'd been back in Jenny's kitchen, though she was almost never "happy" to have him there. At least he and Edwin had stopped leaving food in her fridge, which seemed to go a long way in endearing them to her.

"Edwin's here," he said. He picked up some sort of can opener and spun it around his finger, expertly avoiding the sharp edge.

"Yeah, I saw him," she said, her back still towards him. "Figured you'd be bothering him by now, instead of me."

"He's skating," Charles said, which really summed it all up.

She sighed, and dunked her mop back in the bucket. "Yeah, I sorta figured that might be why he was here. At the rink."

Charles chewed on his lip, unsure what he should do now. Edwin would likely be skating for a couple of hours, so he really didn't need to worry about closing up any time soon. And if he was going to be there for a while then he would need to figure out what they were doing for dinner.

Assuming Edwin even still wanted to have dinner with him, that was. He hadn't said he didn't on the phone throughout the week, merely that he was busy, but Charles could read between the lines. Or at least he thought he could.

Dinner together had been their thing, something Charles had taken for granted. Now that they were back on the rocks, back to not doing it, he really wasn't sure what exactly was expected of him from this whole thing.

Jenny slammed the mop into the bucket for a final time and turned around. "Okay, no. What is wrong with you two?" she asked.

"What?" Charles asked.

"You two!" she said and gestured towards Charles and the door, as if that would explain where Edwin was. "You're both acting weird, but this, lingering in my kitchen instead of staring at him or doing literally anything else, takes the cake."

"I don't stare at him," he said, thrown.

"Fine, what do I know. All I know is looking at you is making me sad, so… stop," she said. She reached over to one of the racks of pans and pulled out a plate nearly full of cookies. "Here. You two can eat these or whatever."

"Really?" he asked.

"Don't get it twisted, I just had some left over after class," she said.

Still, Charles could see they looked extra sweet, something Edwin would love. Especially after practicing.

"Thank you, Jenny," he said in a sing-songy tone.

"Don't thank me," she said. "You're eating leftovers. Moments-from-the-trash food."

Charles shook his head. "You can pretend all you want, but you can't fool me," he said and hopped down from the counter.

"Get out of my kitchen, Rowland," she said, rolling her eyes.

But Charles had already exited the swinging doors, content to have some sort of peace offering to give Edwin.

XXX

The nights where Edwin didn't use music always concerned Charles the most. Concerned seemed like such an extreme word, but Charles didn't know how else to phrase it. At least when Charles could hear the music he could gauge when Edwin would be done with a run, or at least slowing down before the next part, but when he didn't, it was so much harder. All of his stunts seemed to run together into a mess of jumps and spins and twirls that both mesmerized and worried him.

At least his routines set to music left room to rest. The break between songs allowed him enough time to grab a drink, take a breath, assess how he truly felt. Not that Edwin was known for assessing his own body that well, in Charles's experience, but it at least gave him a chance.

All of these skill runs left no room for that, which usually left Edwin in pain and stressed out.

Charles knew from past conversations that Edwin actually used to be worse about that, though he struggled to believe such a thing. The idea that an even younger Edwin could have skated until he hurt himself made Charles's heart ache in a way he didn't know was possible.

And he truly had been discovering new levels of heart ache since meeting Edwin.

Again and again, Edwin went around. Charles was sure there were names for the skills he was displaying, but to Charles's untrained eye they all looked similar.

Amazing, but similar.

He knew there was a difference between what foot he lifted off with, what foot he landed on. How many rotations he got. But it all happened too fast for him to be able to pick out the differences.

Edwin fell. A lot. Normally, he was able to recover before he truly fell, but tonight it seemed like a lesson in how many times he could get knocked down and get back up again.

A lesson Charles had learned both in hockey and at home. It wasn't one he enjoyed watching Edwin partake in.

Charles watched as Edwin wobbled and fell to his hands and knees, scraping against the ice in the process. It was just a normal spill, the type anyone could make on the ice, but Charles felt his heart clench in his throat all the same.

How had he never realized how deeply in love he was with Edwin before now, when a simple tumble on the ice led to feelings like this? It seemed impossible that it had taken him this long to figure it out, but now that he had there was no other thought he could possibly have.

"Fuck," Edwin said, slapping the ice. Charles knew from experience that it likely hurt, that his hand would be stinging and raw and all he wanted to do was take his hand in his and make sure he was okay.

Though he doubted that Edwin would find such a thing comforting, even if he felt the same about him. At least not during moments like this, where he was so locked in everything else faded away.

"Edwin," he called out. He'd sat by for too many of these wipe outs to sit by for another.

Edwin jerked his head around to look at Charles. Slowly, he removed his earbuds, though Charles knew from past experience that there wasn't any music coming from them. Probably just noise cancelling or something else to help him focus.

Gingerly, Edwin climbed to his feet. He was slow moving towards Charles, moving off the ice as if he was a scared prey animal debating running back to his burrow. Which was so different from how Edwin normally viewed him that he wasn't entirely sure how to handle it.

At least he wasn't moving as though he was hurt. Charles didn't think he could hold it together if he was.

"I thought you had left," he said.

Charles shook his head. He hadn't been gone with Jenny that long, though he had kept a low profile once he came back to the sidelines. "Nope. Told you. Gotta lock up," he said, and visibly watched Edwin deflate a little bit.

"Right," Edwin said, as if he had forgotten about that again.

"And make sure you get some of these," he said, and picked up the cookies from the bench next to him. They weren't warm anymore, not after sitting in the chilled rink for so long, but they still smelled delicious.

He knew that the chocolate would be more than tempting enough for Edwin to cave. That boy loved sugar more than almost anything in the world.

Certainly more than you, a bitter part of his brain supplied, which he viciously told to shut it.

Edwin eyed the plate skeptically. For a moment, Charles was sure that he would ignore his peace offering, citing his rather strict diet before competitions or something, but he didn't. Eventually, slowly, Charles could see his shoulders relax and his arm come up to grab one of them.

"Wanna sit for a bit?" he asked.

Edwin distinctly did not look like he wanted to sit for a bit, but he did all the same. He slid a pair of guards on over his skates before fully exiting the rink to sit down next to Charles. Not especially close to him, not how they used to sit, but Charles would take anything as a win now.

At least they weren't stuck between phone conversations still. Sitting in the same room, on the same bench, had to be an improvement.

Sweat ran down Edwin's face, and Charles tried to ignore it, tried to not track the bead of sweat down his face and neck. Instead, he stuck the plate out and offered him one of the sweets.

Edwin took one and nibbled on it. Charles couldn't help but feel as though his assessment of a prey animal earlier was looking more and more correct by the second. Maybe a mouse or a squirrel. Probably something that could get rabies.

Charles shoved almost a whole cookie into his mouth in one go, just so he wouldn't feel obligated to fill the silence between them. There was no talking, no music, no little show to watch for them to focus on instead of themselves.

Silence had never bothered him more than now.

Finally, once he had managed to chew it down and swallow a good chunk of it, he spoke. "So, how's practice going?"

Edwin glared at him. "Is that a joke?"

Charles realized how it sounded. "Wasn't meant to be," he said. "Jus' wondering how you're doing. Feels like it's been a minute since I've seen ya."

A line of tension seemed to snap from Edwin. His back was still ramrod straight as always, but somehow he seemed to sink even more into the bench. "I— sorry. I know." He finished off his first cookie and wiped his hands on his pants. "I fear that I have been a bit busy."

"Yeah, I know," Charles said and he hoped that his resentment or whatever that feeling was was hidden well enough.

"Between running with Shelby, classes, study sessions, training with Simon, it's all just been… a lot," Edwin said.

It truly did seem impossible that that much could have taken place over the last few days, but Charles supposed there was a lot more room for activities if you were avoiding him.

"No, I get it," he said. "That's the way college is sometimes, yeah?"

Edwin nabbed another cookie from the plate. "I hate college," he said.

Charles nodded and chewed on his lips. Even with how much shit he had to put up with during college, he didn't think he could say that he hated it. College was the thing that had given him the chance to play the sport he loved at a higher level, the thing that had given him a chance to learn and aim for a better future.

College was the thing that had actually gotten him away from his dad.

It had also led him to Edwin, which he figured he would always be grateful for.

"S'not so bad," Charles said once he felt like he couldn't hold it back any longer. "You've only been in college for what, three-four months? Give it some time."

Edwin glared at him. "And how long, exactly should I give it? A semester? A year?" He waved his hand out towards the ice. "A whole bloody competition season?"

Charles watched as he tried to regain his composure. "Is that what this is about?" he asked. "Competing?"

That's what it was always about though, wasn't it? Charles was confused why Edwin was even in school when everyone could tell that his passion was skating. And while Charles definitely thought it would be healthier for him to have other things he was interested in, it really did make the least amount of sense for him to add the stress of school to his plate.

To his surprise, Edwin shrugged. "Possibly?" he said, unsure.

Charles thought back to the schedule Edwin had shared with him. There had been a competition in November, hadn't there? He cursed himself for not remembering the exact day off the top of his head. "One's coming up, yeah?" he asked.

"Indeed," Edwin said. He held the cookie in his hand, the chocolate warming and melting against his finger tips. He made a gross face at it before sticking his finger in his mouth to dispose of it.

Actually, Charles should never look at Edwin again. Forever. Because every time he did now he was going to picture him in his jersey and licking chocolate from his fingers and remember how he wasn't in love with Charles, and really, what could be worse?

He wasn't sure, but he knew better than to tempt the universe. It loved to play games with him recently.

"Is that what you and Simon fought over?" Charles asked. His hands tightened against his will, the bit of anger that always came to the surface when Simon was mentioned emerging.

In a way, anger was almost better than attraction. Anger was a normal, if not extreme response to have when someone had been a dick to your friend. Wanting to watch your friend lick chocolate off his fingers was not normal, no matter the circumstances.

Edwin shifted, once again uncomfortable. "In a way," he said, in that 'avoiding answering the question' way he was so good at.

Charles leaned forward to look into Edwin's eyes, despite the fact that he seemed determined to avoid his gaze. It was as if he would rather stare at the ice than even think of making eye contact with him.

"In what way?" Charles asked.

That long suffering, ever put upon sigh escaped Edwin. "In the 'I am once again not taking training seriously and should be' sort of way," he said. Before Charles could start up, Edwin cut him off. "Yes, yes, I know. I am training so hard, doing so much, what more could I really do? I do not need to hear it again."

"Seems like you do," Charles said, nudging him. "Because I definitely don't sound like that."

Edwin actually smiled at that, a small still-unsure thing.

"Seriously, though," Charles said. "What set him off this time?"

Edwin picked at the cookie, slowly pinching off pieces from it until it was broken into more manageable bites. "I messed up a simple run. Several times," Edwin said.

Charles tilted his head, wondering what part of the routine Edwin had been doing tonight counted as 'simple.' "People do that, y'know. Makes us human," he said.

Edwin nodded, and popped a piece of the sweet in his mouth. He was slow to respond, waiting until it was clearly gone before he spoke again. "I suppose." He shifted, sticking one of his legs out so he could glare at it. "It is still a stupid mistake to make. Especially multiple times."

Charles bit back a groan. There was no talking to Edwin when he got like this, but God did he just want to shake him.

"You said 'in a way,'" he said. "Is there another thing that pissed him off?"

Edwin wiped his hands on his lap again. "No, other than the mistakes, he has been rather… lovely this week."

A heavy, sinking feeling settled in as Charles took in his words. Lovely. Simon had apparently been "lovely" that week, but Charles had been ignored.

"Lovely's sort of a strong word for Simon, innit?" he asked, trying to tease him.

That small, familiar smile was back. "You're not fond of him," Edwin observed.

Charles felt as if that were the understatement of the century. But he didn't want to admit that to Edwin, not when he knew they were close. Closer, it would seem, than he and Edwin were at the moment.

"Just think we're different people, is all," Charles said. Like, for instance, Charles actually cared about Edwin and wanted what was best for him. Not just what made him a better skater.

"So are we," Edwin said. "And we seem to make that work pretty well."

Once again, Charles felt like that was an understatement. Or was it? While Charles clearly loved Edwin, they had also had their fair share of fights over the few month span. Did they make it work well?

If they didn't Charles wanted to. And that had to count for something, right?

"So what skill is it you keep messing up?" he asked.

That dark, gloomy cloud settled back over Edwin. "My jumps. Again."

Charles figured it was something like that, based on the skills Edwin had been running that night. They were also the thing Edwin complained about most out of all of them.

Charles wasn't sure how Edwin must have been before his accident, but it was obvious that he had been good at jumps. Frustration and heartache was common with sports injuries as someone fought to get back to "how they used to be," but Charles wasn't sure if that was extreme enough for how Edwin felt about the whole thing.

There were times when Edwin acted as if it were some sort of moral failing that he couldn't do his skills anymore. As if failing at skating meant he had failed at being a person.

Charles didn't know what to do about that. But if it was up to him he would find a way to get rid of that thought, to make Edwin see how good life and everything could be, even without skating.

Just in case he couldn't one day.

"We should get you a trampoline," Charles said, half joking.

"I have one," Edwin said.

Charles almost choked. "What?" he asked. "Where? Where could you possibly have a trampoline stashed away?"

The idea of Edwin— serious, sturdy, calm Edwin, jumping on a trampoline? He would do almost anything to see that.

Not that Edwin was always that serious. It was just such a clashing picture he couldn't even begin to imagine it.

"Here?" he said. "I am sure it is stored in one of the closets. It and one of those electric spinners."

This was new information to Charles. Information that he was desperate to take advantage of.

"Wait, can we find it? How big is it? What's an electric spinner?" he asked, throwing questions at Edwin at light speed.

Smiling, Edwin shook his head at Charles's enthusiasm. "I am sure we can find it. Like I said, it is likely stored away right now. As for how big it is, I'm not sure? I haven't seen it in years." He raised an eyebrow at Charles. "Besides, trampolines are not as useful of a tool as you might think to skaters. They are a fantastic way to get hurt."

"You saying that 'cause you know I'd double jump you to the moon?" he asked, elbowing him.

Edwin blinked. "I have no clue what that means."

Charles couldn't help the bark of a laugh he let out. "You don't know what a double jump is? S'where you time your jumps to help absolutely send someone."

"Charles, who would I have known to double jump with?" he asked.

"Crystal looks like she would absolutely double jump a guy smooth off a trampoline," Charles said. She might be small, but her mean streak seemed to be a mile wide.

"That is a fair point," Edwin said. "Unfortunately, I don't know that this trampoline is really fit for that sort of thing."

The plate of cookies was nearly gone now. There was no way Edwin would be going back out onto the ice any time soon, at least not to do anymore of his jumps or his spins. Even his hardy stomach could only handle so much.

Plus, it was obvious Edwin needed a distraction. Something that, even if it couldn't take his mind actually off skating, would at least give him a chance to physically recover. A breather.

Standing, Charles brushed his hands off before holding one out to Edwin. "C'mon," he said.

His hand slid easily into Charles's. He didn't even hesitate to take his hand, to let him pull him to his feet. Those skates still made him so much taller than Charles, and he tried not to stand on his tiptoes to see eye to eye to him again. Or at least not in any noticeable way.

"Where are we going?" Edwin asked. He glanced down at his skates, clearly asking if he should take them off before hand. The hard guard would protect them and the floor from damage, but it was obviously better to take them off in most cases.

"Wanna find this trampoline," Charles said. "And this… what machine?"

Edwin's hand was warm in his. He should probably let go now that they were both standing, but Charles couldn't help but hold on a little bit longer.

"Electric spinner," he said.

"Right. Still explains nothing to me, mate," he said back. Finally, he let Edwin's hand slide out of his, accepting that it was probably time. It was one thing to help him up off the bench, it was a whole other to just hold his hand.

Still, he couldn't help but notice how Edwin's eyes flicked down to where their hands had been joined, the way he seemed a little more hesitant to continue on without his hand in his.

Or maybe Charles was just reading what he wanted to into the situation.

Edwin leaned against the wall, apparently having decided to take off his skates anyways. It took some effort, but in almost no time at all he had unlaced his skates and stood with his socked feet against the tiles.

There, Charles couldn't help but think. That was more normal. No more looking up to see Edwin. Instead, he even got to look down at him just a bit, the little height from his shoes doing wonders to add to the less than half inch between them.

"There are lots of ways for skaters to train on and off the ice," Edwin said, as if he were giving Charles a lecture on skating. "Exercises to form and build the right muscles, to increase your stamina, your hand-eye coordination."

He led them down one of the many halls Crystal's rink seemed to have. He wasn't sure exactly what all of them were for, or that any of them aside from the main ones were in use, but Edwin seemed confident in his direction. It was as if he were giving him some sort of tour of the rink, one worthy of having been the rink where an Olympic level athlete trained.

"One of those ways is this little thing called a spinner," he said. He gestured with his hand, holding up a space no wider than a dinner plate. "There are many different versions of them, but the whole point is to acclimate a skater to the art of spinning."

"Spinning doesn't really seem to be an issue for you," Charles said, sticking close to him. "Seen you go round and round all the time, mate."

In fact, sometimes watching Edwin almost made him sick. Charles had never had a particularly weak stomach, but the way he twisted and turned, and the speeds he sometimes got up to were worse than any carnival ride.

Edwin opened one of the doors, leaning in to try and see what was inside without even turning on a light. "True, though that wasn't always the case."

He tried to picture a little Edwin, struggling through some of his spins. It was hard to imagine any version of Edwin doing so, even if Charles had seen him struggle with different skills as an adult.

The room was dark, barely enough light to see anything by, but Charles could tell it wasn't likely the room they were looking for. With a click Edwin slid the door closed.

"Now it is not so much the spinning, but the landing that is the problem," Edwin said, his tone once again darkening.

There was nothing Charles could think to say to reassure him. He wanted to tell him that it didn't matter, that his landings were good enough most of the time when he wasn't pushing himself, but he knew that 'good enough' wasn't enough. Edwin wanted to be better than good enough, and Charles could hardly blame him.

They walked on down the hall until Edwin came to another door he seemed content on trying. This one swung open, only to bounce back at them from all of the junk piled inside.

Together, they leaned around, peering in. Charles reached past Edwin and flicked on the light, revealing a room that would have looked perfectly at home on an episode of Storage Wars or Hoarders.

Charles let out a low whistle. "That is a lot of stuff, mate," he said, stepping around him and into the room. He had to pick his way through the things, the pathway barely cleared enough for even his lanky form to get through.

To his surprise, the room was actually far more organized than Charles initially thought. He could see now that it wasn't just piles of random stuff but equipment for hockey and figure skaters all the way from what looked like toddler age things to at least an early teenager.

Edwin stepped behind Charles, far slower than Charles had been to enter. His eyes seemed to be scanning the room, occasionally lingering just a little longer on some items than others.

"This," Edwin said. "Is an electric spinner."

Charles scooted back over. It looked like a metal plate attached to a pedestal, with some sort of motor attached to it. For the life of him, he could not seem to figure out how it was supposed to work.

"What, do you just stand there and hope you don't get flung off?" he asked, tapping the plate with his hand.

Edwin laughed and reached behind him to pull out a harness. "No. You were also supposed to wear this and be anchored to either the ceiling or a hanger. Then, someone could even pull you up into the air and simulate trying to keep your balance and find the right space to land."

Charles glanced at the mess of straps in Edwin's hand and the plate in front of him. "Seems like a lot of work," he said lightly. "My coaches always just knocked some pucks at us until we learned how to block them."

That damn smile was back. "Yes, I suppose this is all a bit more… nuanced than all that," he said. He looked around, trying to see if he could spot anything else interesting.

Charles looked at the spinner again. "Would something like this help?" he asked.

"Hm?" Edwin asked, already looking inside another box.

"Would one of these spinners help you?" he asked again.

"As we have observed, it is not the spinning that is the issue but the landing," he said, closing the box again.

Charles nodded, chasing down his idea. "Yeah, but you said this could help you learn how to find the right space to land." He tapped it with his foot. "Could we use it now?"

Edwin looked at him, and Charles felt like a bug under a microscope. Yet, he didn't find it all that off putting. In fact, he just seemed to like any of Edwin's attention, even when it was intense and scrutinizing.

"Well, this one is designed for children," Edwin said. "So no."

Charles nodded. "Right, but there is one for adults, right? One you could use?"

Edwin gave a sort of noncommittal head-bob. He rolled his eyes up, as if thinking, before looking back at Charles. "It is possible, though I don't know how much help it would truly be. I know how to find where I need to land, I just need to build up the strength again."

As if embarrassed that he had to admit such a thing, Edwin turned to look back through another box on the shelf next to him. He didn't seem to be looking at anything in particular, just using it as an excuse to not look at Charles.

Charles clapped his hands together, drawing Edwin's attention back to him. He rubbed them together, the sound somehow loud in the quiet room. They were probably the only two left in the rink anymore, and Charles felt more embolden by that thought than he should. Especially how hanging out with Edwin alone had gone recently.

"What can I do?" he asked.

The noise startled Edwin almost as much as the question. "What?" he asked.

Charles gestured to the spinner to the harness to the room full of stuff around them. "What can I do? Surely there's something I can do to help you."

Edwin stared at him, clearly unsure. "I would not use this," he said, nodding towards the spinner. "Or really anything else in here. Because, as I have pointed out, it is for children. And not exactly what I need."

"Right," Charles said. "Then we'll get you something else. Or find another way to help you, but surely there's gotta be something."

A look shot across Edwin's face, hesitant but wanting. He bit his lip and turned away.

"Edwin." He waited until Edwin turned back to look at him, clearly still anxious about something. "Do you remember our bet?"

His eyes snapped up to Charles and he stuttered for a moment. "Our bet?" he asked. He tried to pull himself together a bit, shaking his head. "We've made a lot of them. You are going to have to be more specific."

"You bet one time that if I lost I would have to help you with your training," he said. "So use me."

Both of them seemed to flounder at his words. "I mean— use me for training. I'm here anyways, I can be whatever you need."

Edwin seemed to consider this. He pulled his long sleeves down over his hands and ran his hands over the material. "Yes, I remember now," he said. "Though, I do not think I won that bet. And, I just figured… Well, things had changed, and I wasn't certain you would really still feel up to any of that."

Charles wanted to ask him what had changed, to get him to say it was the kiss— that he might feel something different between them, too. But he couldn't. Not when the idea of pushing Edwin away was still so fresh.

Instead, he shrugged. "I don't think anything has really changed, right?" he asked. "You still need help with this, and I'm here to help. What's changed?"

All of it. None of it. Everything that had ever really mattered to Charles.

But this wasn't about him, it was about Edwin, even if he didn't have the words to explain that. Or the courage to do so, maybe.

Those devastating green eyes watched him, and for a moment Charles thought he might admit it. That he kissed him, and that it had changed something between them, both good and bad.

But Edwin didn't. Just like he never kissed him after Charles woke up that next morning, just like he avoided all talks of the Halloween party or kissing in general, just like the whole thing really was something he had wanted to forget and hope Charles had done the same.

It's not like Charles could actually be that upset by it. Edwin had stated that was what he wanted, was it any surprise that was how he was acting?

It still hurt, however.

To his surprise, Edwin glanced down at his legs. His hand fisted in the material of his athletic joggers, bunching it as if it had personally offended him.

"This— I—," Edwin said. Or tried to say. His voice was quiet and low, not quite angry but definitely, definitely not happy. "Most skaters do not need to sort of help I am asking for by the time they are at this point in their careers."

Was that actually true, or was Edwin simply talking down about his skills? It was always hard to know what the truth was when it came to things like this. Edwin was far more experienced in everything figure skating, of course, but even Charles, with his limited view, could tell that his own views could be a little skewed.

"Everyone needs help, mate," he said. He didn't point out that most skaters were not coming back from some sort of terrible, mysterious accident to start skating again by this point in their careers, either. Plus, they probably had a better system in place for helping them, not just a decent coach and a shitty skating partner. "'sides, I didn't ask if I could help them. I asked if I could help you."

At that distinction, Edwin nodded. "It would require you to be on the ice, as well, Edwin said. "And it would likely not be… easy."

Charles rolled his eyes. "You're not gonna scare me away, mate, just tell me what it is."

"I need help getting up into the air," Edwin said. "I do plenty of these runs that by the time I think I am nailing the landing, my legs— I cannot keep jumping high enough to make any of it matter."

Charles could tell that it took a lot for him to admit that, that admitting such a thing was actually killing him.

Part of Charles wished that he could have met the Edwin before his accident, the one who leapt into the air and spun around and acted as though it was nothing. As natural as breathing.

This Edwin did a lot of that too, but Charles knew better. Could see the sometimes literal pains it cost him to do so.

That didn't mean he wasn't still the most beautiful skater Charles had ever seen.

"How could I help with that?" Charles asked, not quite following. If they had a larger one of these machines that might be able to help him consistently get the air he needed, but otherwise he didn't really see any other option.

"You cannot," Edwin said.

Charles eyed him skeptically. "Oh, I can't, huh? That's why you asked me to do this before? Because I can't help you?"

The room was silent as Edwin seemed to consider his words. At least it was a comfortable one, if not a little weighted. "My original idea involved you… lifting me, to help me achieve the height required."

Edwin's face was burning a familiar red, though Charles did not have the nerve to call him on it. If he did, he would likely shut it down and they would be back to square one for the week. Or worse.

"But that is not necessary," Edwin said. "And a bit more than a little presumptuous, I should say, too."

Yet Charles had tuned out almost the second Edwin had mentioned lifting him. Lifting him. Putting his hands on Edwin, picking him up. Being allowed to be that close to him again.

His hands fisting into his own jersey, pulling Edwin close. Holding him there so he couldn't—wouldn't, leave him.

If they did this it would be the perfect reason to have his hands on him, to put his hands on his waist and drag him close, at least before lifting him.

"Such a thing really is too dangerous," Edwin said, leading them out into the hallway and shutting the closet door. "Which was part of the reason why Simon and I had to stop tonight."

"What?" Charles asked.

He'd asked Simon to lift him? Simon, over Charles? What sort of backwards world was this where Simon was more trustworthy than Charles?

He tried not to picture Simon standing close with Edwin, lifting him up, helping him skate. That was not an image he needed or wanted burned into his head.

"It's dangerous," Edwin said. "Well, it can be. If you are doing partnered work you need to make sure you and your partner are… in the right mindset before doing it. It helps to ensure everyone's safety. And Simon and I most certainly weren't going to get there tonight."

"Partnered work," Charles said, the words trailing off as if they were foreign to him.

Edwin nodded. "Partners. Skating in pairs, whatever term you are familiar with. That is part of such a thing."

“But you don’t skate in pairs, do you?” Charles asked. He’d never seen Edwin practice with anyone before, and even when he mentioned skating with Simon it was more in the “training together” sort of way than whatever… this was.

“No, not most of the time,” Edwin said. He made a sort of ‘ehh’ gesture with his hand before shrugging. “But, I have before. Though, most places do not allow same-sex pairs. Not much room for advancement there.”

Charles hadn’t really thought of that being a barrier before. “Seems kinda odd,” he said. “Like discrimination or something.”

Edwin shifted, twisting his head and adjusting his collar. This was the closest they had actually come to the talk of whether or not Edwin was gay, and while Charles definitely had a feeling about it, he knew better than to assume.

“I’m sure they would have to rework some things for that to work,” Edwin said, noncommittally.

“Would you?” Charles asked. He stepped up closed to Edwin, who had paused out in the hall. Charles looked down at him, trying not to crowd him, but unable to stay away.

“Would I what?” Edwin asked.

“Want to skate pairs? If you could do it with another guy?” Charles asked.

Edwin tilted his head. “I told you, I have skated pairs before. With Simon. As children.”

But did someone like Simon even really count? Especially when it was obvious Edwin was more passionate about his one free skate than he was about whatever it was he had done with Simon in the past.

“I meant for real,” Charles asked.

Edwin paused, his hands hovering over his long sleeve compression shirt where he had been pulling the wrinkles out of it. “Paired skating is… different, than what I do,” Edwin said, as if that wasn’t obvious. “There is a lot of trust needed between the two. Trust and chemistry.”

Charles stepped forward, taking up Edwin’s hand. “Aces. I know it's not exactly the same as paired skating, but we’ve got loads of both of those. Should be easy for me to help you out.”

He smiled, just wide enough that he might be able to play this all off as a joke if he needed to, but he hoped that Edwin could see through him. He hoped that by now Edwin could see down into who he was as a person and know that he wasn’t joking. He was dead serious about every word that had left his mouth, and he would spend his whole life proving that to Edwin. Wanted to spend his whole life showing him.

Edwin stared at their connected hand, and Charles was almost grateful he hadn’t looked up yet. If he did, he would see everything in Charles’s eyes and there would be no more denying what was between them, no matter the reason they were both doing so.

Edwin tightened his grip on Charles’s hand before dropping it. He cleared his throat, stepping back until his back hit the wall behind him.

Charles couldn't even blame him for that one. He had laid it on awfully thick for someone who was supposed to be "forgetting" about their kiss.

"'sides," he said, trying to salvage this situation before he made it even worse somehow. "s'not like we're gonna do real paired skating. This is just me, giving you a hand, right?"

A lift. A literal lift up into the sky. His arms around Edwin and giving him a toss.

It wasn't going to be easy, he was sure. At least, not to do it gracefully or safely. But he was willing to try and learn, if Edwin was. If Edwin could give him this chance then he would do his best to make sure everything was fine.

Plus, wasn't he a better choice than Simon at the end of the day? Charles tossed hockey players around all the time on the ice. What did Simon do? No, Edwin would be far better off with Charles, even if he was inexperienced in this.

His stomach growled, interrupting what he had hoped was building to something, some sort of acknowledgement of their kiss. And of course, in the quiet of the hall, it had to ring out as loud as possible.

Edwin quirked an eyebrow up at him before he burst out laughing.

"Oi, don't laugh," he said. "Jenny's cookies are delicious, but they're no dinner."

Edwin nodded. "Indeed," he said. Then, almost unsure, he pressed his hands together. "Would you like… to get dinner with me?" he asked. "I understand if you have other plans, it is last minute after all, and you're only here because I kept you so late skating, and then I barely even skated and—"

"Edwin," he said, cutting in. "I would love to."

And, Charles thought, that wasn't the only thing he loved.

Chapter 25: I Want You To Want Me

Notes:

"I want you to want me,
I need you to need me,
Oh, I'd love you to love me,
I'm begging you to beg me,"
I Want You To Want Me (Cover) by KSM

Dinner consisted of last minute offerings from the caf. Neither one of them had much energy to plan anything elaborate, and Charles didn't have the cash on him to go out anywhere else.

He knew Edwin would pay, but that wasn't the point. Charles might not hold as much pride as his own father did, but he did have some.

The caf was nearly empty by the time they ran in, a few stragglers here and there hanging around, chatting with their friends, or rushing to get their meals filled.

Edwin and Charles separated, trying to plan the most efficient way to gather up their food.

For Charles, it was to gather up whatever was left. A burger, a bowl of chicken soup, some sort of meat on a stick skewer that he couldn't tell  exactly what it was supposed to be.

For Edwin, it was his usual: rice and chicken. He did, however, grab one of the 'mystery sauces' as Charles liked to refer to them, and shrug when Charles asked if he planned on eating it.

"Bold move," Charles joked.

"I am full of them," Edwin said, and oh, if only he knew how bold Charles thought he really was.

Closing time at the caf meant they had very little choice about where to eat. Neither one of them seemed to want to walk back to the rink or to Edwin's place, which meant gathering in Charles's room.

Edwin didn't even hesitate this time. He gracefully sat down on the spare bed, pulling his to-go box close to him to avoid any mess. Charles sat down next to him, crossing his legs as he did so. He ignored the way it brushed against Edwin's, the way he wished that it mattered to him like it did to Charles.

He reached over and turned his laptop on. He let Edwin pick whatever he wanted to watch, a habit which he quickly seemed to be forming. To no surprise, Edwin turned on the detective show they had previously watched at Edwin's place.

The plot was still unclear, and Edwin liked to argue with it, but Charles thought it might be the best thing he'd ever seen. He could only hope that it had a million seasons, enough to keep him and Edwin entertained for forever.

"Maybe you should be a detective, mate," Charles joked. "Show them how it's really done."

Edwin rolled his eyes. "As if I could be a detective," he said.

Charles frowned at his tone. "You could. You're plenty smart, I've seen you. Or maybe you could write the mysteries. Make sure they get them right."

Edwin stabbed a piece of chicken with his fork. He'd opened the mystery sauce, though he had failed to actually dip anything in it yet. Instead, it's questionable consistency wobbled every time Edwin moved his box.

"It is not about intelligence," Edwin said. "More so life plans and all that. There is no way my father would approve of me doing anything other than the plan he has set out for me."

Charles raised an eyebrow at him. "Oh, yeah, and what's that again?" He knew Edwin had mentioned it once, but that had been before he'd met his father.

Now that he had, he understood how serious Edwin was about his life actually being planned out for him.

"A lawyer, like him. Though I suppose he would settle for a doctor, if I would have chosen that route," he said. "As long as it was something prestigious to bring honor to the family name."

A snort escaped Charles before he could stop it. Edwin side eyed him, but not in a way that told Charles he was upset with him, merely observing him. "Sorry. It's just funny, hearing someone unironically talk about a prestigious family name."

Especially since Edwin was already upholding a pretty big title by being a world famous figure skater.

"I take it there was not a lot of arguing about your career path?" Edwin asked.

Charles paused, shoving a bite into his mouth. "Kinda? My old man just wanted me to do something that would earn a lot of money," he said. Which Charles had agreed with. How else was he supposed to make sure that he stayed as far away from him as possible? "Well, after he got done being upset with me for going away to school."

Edwin's brow furrowed, turning away from the show. "He was upset you were going away?"

Quickly, as if he were aware of all the hidden rocks under the surface, Charles course corrected. "Well not actually upset. Just a long way from home, innit? Across the pond for four years is a long time I guess."

"But you had already been going to boarding school, correct?" Edwin asked.

"Yeah," Charles said, nodding his head. "I guess that was diff— wait a sec. How did you know I went to a boarding school?"

"You have mentioned it, yes?" Edwin asked, though his tone was slightly off.

Charles tried to think back. Had he? It seemed like something he could have mentioned, but he couldn't actually remember it.

"Don't really remember that," he said, now his turn to side eye Edwin. "But yeah. I went to St. Hil's. It's this old boarding school near London, full of all these posh gits. Part of the reason I could even apply to schools in America, really."

Because Charles was a great player and not even a terrible student, but there was no way he likely could have caught the attention of some of the schools over here without their help. That St. Hil's name was awfully persuasive.

"Simon and I were meant to attend that school," Edwin said.

Charles nearly choked on his chicken soup. Edwin cringed at the splatter it made across the rest of Charles's food as he spit it back out. "You what?" he asked, once he felt like he could breathe again.

"Simon and I were supposed to attend St. Hilarion's," Edwin said. "Unfortunately, our education was a little different due to all of our competitions. I, at least, did not have what you would call a traditional education."

Charles tried to imagine what that would have looked like. Meeting Edwin when they were both still kids in school. The two of them, being able to study together, to hang out together, potentially even being roommates if St. Hil's years had allowed it. There was still a couple of years between them, but that would have been so much more time he could have had with Edwin.

Edwin going to his games. Him going to Edwin's competitions. All of these hard feelings being something they could have worked out long before they had even gone to college.

"I can't believe we could've gone to the same school," Charles said.

Edwin quirked an eyebrow. "Why not? We do now?"

"But it's different, yeah? Like, fate or something."

Charles suddenly became aware of how close they were on the bed again. That the laptop and to-go boxes between them was not enough— or maybe too much. Edwin also seemed to realize it at the same time, as he cleared his throat and took another bite of rice.

But it had to be, right? It had to be fate. Fate that they didn't meet earlier, fate that they met now, fate that they both became interested in skating and ice sports just so they had something else to connect with.

If that wasn't fate then what was?

"I do not believe in fate," Edwin said. "Fate is something that people say so they can excuse their own actions."

Charles looked at him. "Do you really believe that? That there isn't some force out there drawing things together?"

"I much rather believe that someone wanted me around than that the universe had decided to will it," Edwin said.

And suddenly Charles thought the same thing.

XXX

Edwin didn't spend the night, despite the fact that Charles offered him the bed again.

I really do need to spend some time at my own place, you know that right?

The thought that Charles could have spent the night with him didn't even occur to Charles until he was already halfway back to his dorm.

But he had research to do. Edwin had sent him a few videos on the types of things he was going to require from Charles. The lifting, the skating, all of that type of stuff. There was still a hesitancy about the whole thing surrounding Edwin that Charles didn't like to see, but that was something they could get over. They could work at this slowly, ease them in.

It's not like he expected to do this all at once. Edwin was right, this was something potentially dangerous and Charles wasn't going to treat this like everything else in his life. Reckless rushing in would only hurt both of them in the end.

And wasn't that the reoccurring theme in their story.

These should at least give you a nice base to work with. -Edwin

Charles snorted. It was cute the way Edwin signed off his own texts, as if it could have been anyone else messaging him. Links to at least three separate videos followed, and while Charles knew Edwin would be explaining everything in far more depth than the video could provide, he still watched them.

Videos were fine, but Charles still felt ill-prepared. And he wanted to get this right. This was Edwin. It was important. Even if it wasn't potentially dangerous, he wanted to do it the way it should be done.

He scrolled through advice columns and threads about skating. And then, when his eyes started to get too heavy and he could feel sleep creeping up on him, he turned back to videos.

It wasn't quite the same thing as calling Edwin at night to fall asleep, but it was close enough.

XXX

The next day after classes were finished, he raced over to the rink, hoping to catch Niko before she left for the day. He'd tried to text her last night, to try and apologize to her, but she hadn't answered.

Not even to the six cat videos he had sent afterwards.

Thankfully, her class hadn't quite ended by the time he arrived. He expected to be mobbed by Becky and Emma the second he stepped into view, but to his surprise they were already hovering around someone.

Edwin stood next to Niko, his arms held behind his back as the girls chittered around them. A soft, amused smile graced his lips as he watched them ping-pong off each other and back around him.

Niko said something that made Edwin laugh and both of the younger girls cheer. Charles hung back, not wanting to interrupt their moment, but also wishing he could hear what they said.

"You have to come to another class," Emma whined. "And bring your boyfriend! We miss Charles, too!"

Edwin and Niko both froze before Edwin spluttered. "Well, Charles is not— I mean," he said before Niko cut him off.

"Charles has a very busy schedule during hockey season," she said. "It'll be a minute before he's free again."

Emma's little shoulder's slumped as she turned towards Becky. Before she could say whatever it was she was going to, she caught a glimpse of Charles's approach and perked up.

"Charles!" she said. Both her and Becky immediately booked it over to him, talking over each other.

"Niko was just telling us you were too busy to come see us, is that true?" Emma said.

Charles looked up to try and catch Niko's eye, but she had turned and started talking to Edwin, who shook his head. She leaned in and he did her the favor of bending down slightly so she could whisper in his ear, blocking her mouth with her hand so Charles couldn't even guess what they might have been talking about.

So, that's how it was, huh?

"Well," he said, looking back at the kids in front of him. "I am pretty busy. But I'm never too busy for you guys."

The girls let out some squeals as they clapped their hands together and shuffled their skates against the ice.

"My mom said we can go to one of your games soon," Emma said. "Since Becky got to go to Edwin's competition."

Charles couldn't hold back his surprise. "You went to Edwin's competition?" he asked.

Becky nodded, excitement bubbling out of her. "We did! My dad and I went, and we were going to try and talk to Edwin, but this mean blonde lady said no."

He frowned. "A blonde lady told you no?" he asked.

Becky nodded. "Yeah. She said she didn't care if we knew him or not," she said. "She wasn't very nice."

Charles tucked that information away to ask about later. He wouldn't have described the woman he'd seen outside the school's rink that one night as particularly, "blonde," but he supposed she could have been.

"Well hopefully you can make the next one," he told her. "And hopefully I'll see you at a game soon."

Emma gave a short little spin that actually wouldn't have looked out of place in a figure skating routine. He wondered if she wasn't picking up more from Becky or Edwin than she would have cared to admit.

"And you'll come teach us soon, okay?" she added.

Charles grinned. "Yeah, okay."

Both of the girls cheered again, drawing Niko and Edwin's attention back to them. Niko smiled and then wrapped her arms around Edwin in a quick, tight hug, before ushering the girls away.

"Come on," Niko said. "You've gotta get those skates off before your parents get here."

Loud complaints went up from the girls as they followed her by. For a moment, Charles thought Niko was really going to exit the ice without even acknowledging him, but at the last moment she stopped and turned back to him.

She threw her arms around him and gave him a hug that resembled the one she had give Edwin before. "I'm sorry. I love you," she said.

"Talk later?" he asked.

She nodded, that sunny smile firmly back in place. "Okay girls, let's get out of these skates and bother Jenny! I bet she's got something very yummy for us today."

He smiled. At least that was a step in the right direction. He knew that they would get over their little tiff, once they actually talked about it, and while it might not be easy he wouldn't lie and say this didn't go a long way in reassuring him.

"Bother Jenny is correct," Edwin said, skating up to the edge of the rink. "She's going to tell them no one day."

Charles thought about Jenny making sweets for them, about the way she tended to brew coffee or hot chocolate before Edwin arrived. The idea that she might ever tell any of them no was almost laughable.

He wondered if Edwin knew that.

"Didn't expect to see you here, yet," he said.

"Oh," Edwin said. "Yes, sorry. If you intended to practice first, feel free. I really did just stop in to speak with Niko."

So it seemed like great minds thought alike.

"Me too," he said. "Though I guess you beat me to it."

Edwin shifted, scuffing his skate against the top of the ice.

"It was nice, what you did. Talking to the girls?" Charles nodded towards where they had disappeared to. "They really like you."

"They like you, too," Edwin said. "Rest assured, half of their conversations were about you."

He thought back to the time Emma had told him to make sure Edwin had stopped in again. "I think they like you pretty well, too," he said.

Edwin nodded. He made to get off the ice, as if they were done for the evening, and Charles couldn't help but frown.

"Are you not practicing tonight?" he asked. He had sort of hoped that he would, that he and Charles could get a head start on their little joint adventure.

Edwin looked at Charles like he was some sort of curiosity. "Is there a particular reason you seem so excited?" he almost teased.

Charles could feel a blush creep over his face. "No," he said. "I just watched the videos and thought you might wanna get started soon."

Edwin's lips twitched as he pressed his hands together in front of him. "That is incredibly kind, Charles, but we are not going to start out on the ice for that," he said.

Charles tilted his head. "Are we not?"

Edwin shook his head as he exited the ice and quickly traded his skates for slides. He went through the process of taking care of his skates as Charles stood by, wondering exactly what it was they were going to do then.

Edwin led the way towards the gym where several mats were laid out. Mirrors lined one wall, reflecting back at them. The area was large, plenty of room for them to do practice runs on anything they might need, while still being close enough to the mirror to check their forms.

At least, that was what Charles assumed it was for. All he had really used it for so far was mirror selfies while working out.

He wondered if Edwin ever did the same.

"Before we get on the ice, I really must insist we do things right here," Edwin said. He gestured to the area around them, the soft gym mats squishing under his feet as he led Charles up on them.

"Practice makes perfect," Charles said, nodding.

"Wrong. Perfect practice makes perfect," Edwin countered. "Which is why we are going to practice out here before we add blades to our feet and a slippery surface."

All of that made sense and yet at the same time Charles couldn't help but give a small snort. He had spent years on the ice, he was fairly certain he could do whatever it was Edwin was going to require of him once they got out there.

"Alright," Charles said and clapped his hands together. "Like I said last night then, use me. Tell me what you need me to do."

That blush was back on Edwin's face. "I wish you would stop phrasing it that way," he said. But it was worth it to be able to see Edwin flounder like that again.

Edwin stepped closer to Charles, the soft mats sinking slightly as he did so. He looked up into Charles's eyes, and Charles couldn't help but stand up a bit straighter under his gaze.

"So," Edwin said. "I would like to preface this with I have never had to teach anyone how to do this. Simon and I learned at the same time as children, so this is a little… different."

Charles certainly hoped so.

"I'm sure you'll be a great teacher," Charles said. Because he was sure of it, and because he could tell that Edwin really needed the confidence boost.

Disbelief was clear on Edwin's face, but neither one of them called their bluff. "Fine. I suppose the first step is to do a few warm ups. Stretch your muscles out. The last thing we want is one of us getting hurt before we even get started."

Charles gave him a mock salute and started to stretch. Some for his hips, arms, and back. He watched Edwin from the corner of his eye, the way he seemed, despite whatever injuries he'd had before, able to bend and stretch himself in odd ways that surprised Charles even after all these months watching him.

"Insane that you can do the splits, mate," he said, startling both of them.

"What?" Edwin asked.

Charles shook his head. "I just… Kinda crazy. I could never do them."

Edwin looked at him for a moment before turning away again, this time to do a different stretch. "Perhaps we should focus."

Maybe they should. But that was so hard to do when Edwin was five feet away stretching like his life depended on it.

Charles sighed as he stood up to jog in place. Already he could feel himself getting hotter, despite the rather cool temperature the whole rink maintained. Sighing, he rid himself of his hoodie and worked on stretching out his back.

If he was going to be lifting Edwin he needed to make sure that wasn't tight. Not that he usually had problems with such a thing, but still. It never hurt to make sure.

"Oh good lord," Edwin muttered under his breath.

Charles glanced at the mirrors lining one of the wall, just barely able to catch Edwin watching him. It shouldn't have made him feel as warm inside as it did, but he couldn't help but almost preen a little bit at witnessing it.

It was a small thing, so small if it was anyone else Charles might have written it off as annoyance rather than attraction, but Charles liked to think he could tell the difference on Edwin's face.

He knew what he looked like when he kissed, after all.

Which only furthered the point that the kiss had meant something, even if both of them were pretending it didn't. Did that something mean anything more than finding each other attractive? Well, Charles had his answer, but Edwin's still seemed up in the air.

"I think that should be enough for now," Edwin said suddenly, jumping up from the ground. Charles was quick to look away from the mirror, to turn towards him so he couldn't see how Charles had been watching him.

"So what now?" he asked, standing in front of him. There was surely more to this that just… picking him up, right? He'd watched the videos, but they were usually already on the ice by the time the video started. Where was there to start off ice?

"Now, we need to—erm, get into position," Edwin said, and cringed the entire time.

Charles tried so hard to ignore how that sounded, though he could tell from the look on Edwin's face he hadn't succeeded.

"Tell me how," he said, holding his arms out.

"Right," Edwin said. "So your hands would need to be on my waist. At least for this first trial." He shifted his feet just a bit, widening his stance so he could stand closer to Charles without their feet getting in the way any.

Charles could see why this beginning part might be harder to do in skates.

"Normally, we would need to do this while we were moving," Edwin said. "But this seemed like the best starting point."

Charles nodded. "Right, seems like as good as any," he said with a tight, awkward smile.

Charles's hand skimmed Edwin's waist. It shouldn't have felt as— not wrong, exactly because it certainly felt right, but… scandalous? Improper?— as it did, but that was the only way he could think to describe it. It felt like at any moment someone was going to come along, demand to know what they were doing, and separate them.

As if they weren't grown adults. As if they weren't alone in Crystal's rink by now.

As if they were doing anything other than practicing together.

People skated and practiced together all the time and it meant nothing. Hell, Edwin had skated with Simon before in a paired skate, and Charles trained with his team all the time. That didn't mean anything had to happen. In fact, that was the reason Charles knew this didn't mean anything.

He was just here to help Edwin with his jumps. Just there to lend him a hand, as he needed it.

That didn't stop Charles's heart from beating faster when he thought about it. Or when he glanced at Edwin's face for his own reaction.

His face was passive, a careful sort of expression that didn't allow a single thought through. It was different than his focused look, the one he wore when he usually skated or otherwise trained. This one was so carefully blank it might as well have been plastic.

"Like this?" Charles asked, his hand hovering at Edwin's waist.

"Well," Edwin said, clearing his throat slightly. "I should certainly hope that you would hold on a bit tighter, otherwise you're more likely to drop me straight down on to yourself."

Neither one of them seemed to know what to say to that. So instead, Charles settled for resting his hand firmly on Edwin's waist and pulling him in closer. He let his hand feel the cool, slick material of his athletic wear, the way it slowly warmed under his hand as he drew them closer.

It was so easy to think of the glow party, Edwin all pretty under the neon lights. Or how he'd looked in the pool, his teeth chattering but his happy smile still in place. Or even the Halloween party, his hand tangled in his own jersey to keep Edwin tucked up close to him.

None of these were thoughts he should be having. But they were easy ones.

"Wouldn't wanna do that, now would I?" Charles asked, ignoring how his own breath felt raspy to his ears.

Edwin shook his head. He lifted his hands up onto Charles's shoulders, and Charles could practically hear the glow party music once more.

He should have kissed him then. He should have told him he loved him then, or liked him or God whatever it was he was feeling. If he'd done it then, before this whole business with the jersey and everything else got involved then Edwin would know it was from him. No one else, just him, and not even because he'd briefly thought about fucking him or something.

Or whatever it was Edwin thought about that night. He wasn't sure, still, as they still hadn't talked about it.

Part of Charles knew that they needed to. That there was only one way they were ever going to clear any of this up and that was by talking about it, but there was another, far stronger part of him. The part that was so used to going along to get along for years, the part of him that knew better than to rock the boat when things seemed to be going well.

But for how long could he expect them to go well?

"So, you would put both of your hands there," Edwin said, nodding his head down towards where Charles's hands gripped his waist. "And I would put my hands here, and we would lift. Then, through that lift, I would be able to push off of you while you sort of… throw me."

Charles wasn't sure if he was trailing off because of the description of "throw me," or if it was because he seemed to be getting even more flustered standing next to Charles.

"Y'know, we're taught not to do this in hockey," Charles teased.

Edwin smiled, a honey slow spread of a thing. "I imagine it would be quite discouraged," he said. "But this is not hockey."

As if Charles wasn't aware of that enough. There were no pads between them, no helmets to block their view of each other. Just the rather thin layer of athletic clothes Edwin chose to wear during practice and Charles's own tank top.

The idea of no helmet struck home again. If he fucked up, if Edwin fell there would be no helmet to protect him. No pads to save him from the rough ice. Just straight, sandpaper-like ice scraping against his skin.

All because Charles threw him.

Sure, they were on soft mats now, but what happened once they got out there? What if they did it all perfectly here and then he fucked up once they moved onto the "real" thing?

Maybe Charles should have pushed harder about the machine. He was sure there were other ways they could modify it, ways they could try and help Edwin get what he needed out of it.

Ways that didn't involve him throwing the love of his life into the air on the ice.

But then again, this was something Edwin had already been doing. Whether it was jumping into the air on his own, or asking Simon to help, Edwin had been flying through the air and crashing down on it the whole time.

But now he felt comfortable enough to ask Charles for help. And that should mean something.

"We should do a few test runs," Edwin said. "To see if it is even feasible for you to lift me in such a way."

"Oi!" Charles said. "I lift weights! I can definitely pick you up."

Edwin patted his shoulder where his hands still rested. "Picking me up is one thing, Charles. It is also the moving and the tossing that concerns me."

A trickle of doubt crossed Edwin's face, and Charles wanted to kiss it away. Despite his own uncertain feelings on the matter, he wanted Edwin to feel safe. This was something that was supposed to help him, and Charles wanted him to actually feel secure while he was doing it.

"I got it, mate," Charles said. He squeezed his hands around Edwin's waist. Because he thought it might reassure him and just because he could. "It'll be fine, trust me."

Edwin nodded. "I do trust you," he said. And it reminded him of all the other times Edwin had said something like that.  “Charles, I don’t think you would ever hurt me on purpose.” "I trust you." “I do not think he would let anything happen to me. I trust him, after all.”

Charles hadn't truly been aware of how much trust Edwin seemed to place in him. Even before the kiss.

He only hoped that he could keep earning that trust.

Then, just because he wanted to show Edwin that he really could, he secured his hands on Edwin's waist and lifted him up.

He knew it wasn't the same kind of lifting Edwin was going to require of him when they were on the ice. But it was something, just enough to prove that he had the strength and he was going to use it to both of their advantage.

Edwin's finger's tightened on his shoulders for a brief moment before relaxing. The small squeak he let out in shock at suddenly being lifted off the ground was so adorable Charles couldn't help but grin. There was no way he was going to be forgetting that any time soon.

It reminded him of outside the hockey game, how he had seen Edwin standing there next to Simon and had just darted over to him. How he'd picked him up and swung him around in a way not so different from this.

Proof of concept, really.

"You have made your point excellently clear," Edwin said, smiling.

"Have I?" Charles asked. Carefully, he spun and turned around, a slow, mechanical spin to show Edwin that he could move while holding him up, too. "What if I just gave you a toss now, hm?"

Edwin rolled his eyes. "Alright, yes, you have made your point," he said.

Charles set him down, his body dragging down Charles's in the process. The hairs on his arm raised as Edwin's hands trailed down from his shoulders to his elbows, tracing the muscles of his arms in a way he wasn't even sure Edwin knew he was doing.

"See, no problem," he said. "Easy work. You're light as a feather."

Edwin tugged his clothes back into place, as if they had even shifted the slightest bit. "I see. Well, it won't be so easy on the ice."

If Simon could do it, Charles could do it, he was sure. It was the mantra he had kept repeating to himself over and over again.

"Fine," Charles said. "So what else do I need to be able to do?"

Edwin pressed his hands together. "Well, ideally you would be able to catch me," Edwin said. "But I don't know if we're exactly there yet."

"Catching you?" Charles asked. "Of course I can catch you."

Edwin gave him a rather disbelieving look. "Why don't we practice the lift and the set down a bit more before. After all, we will want to make sure we have those perfect before we move on to something like catching or tossing."

Charles nodded. Once again he rested his hands on Edwin's waist, enjoying the way they just seemed to fit naturally into place. Edwin's hands were warm against his bare shoulders and Charles was both thankful for and cursing removing his hoodie earlier.

If he had kept it on it would have been another layer between them, something to help him focus on what he was actually supposed to be focusing on. Not how Edwin's hands curved over his shoulders, how they seemed to be careful to not hold on too hard while still being rather firm in their placement.

Then again, what sort of world would it be if Charles couldn't enjoy even these crumbs.

He lifted him, once, twice, three more times before Edwin seemed to believe he might be able to catch him. Every time Charles lifted him the urge to never let him go struck, even though he knew he would be picking him up again soon enough.

"Pretty good workout," Charles said, stretching again. "Might have to start lifting you instead of weights."

Edwin gave him a rather weak glare. "Ha, very funny."

"I thought it was."

Sighing, Edwin fidgeted in place. "We can call it here, if you want," Edwin said. "I do feel as though this has been tremendous progress for one night."

Charles didn't feel the same. All he had done so far was pick Edwin up and carry him around the room. That wasn't what Edwin needed from him on the ice.

"Why stop now?" he asked. "Come on, let me try catching you."

Uncertainty crossed Edwin's face. "We really do not have to try that, tonight, Charles. You've already done so much, and I really couldn't ask you to do more."

He crossed his arms. "Would you and Simon stop there?" he asked.

Edwin rolled his eyes. "You know we wouldn't."

"Then we can keep going, too," he said.

"It's really not the same thing," Edwin said. "This is entirely new to you, the last thing I want to do is hurt either one of us."

Charles paused, taking in his words for a moment. Edwin trained until his feet bled and he practically passed out on the ice. He never worried about the strain it would put on him, whether or not it would actually hurt him in the end.

Was he really so worried about Charles?

"It's fine, mate," he said. He stepped forward, sliding his hands so they were resting on Edwin's shoulders now rather than the reverse it had been all evening. Edwin seemed to relax under his hands, his shoulders slumping just slightly enough that he would not have noticed if his hands were not already in place.

"If you wanna stop here, we stop here," Charles said. "You're in charge. This is supposed to be for you. But if you wanna keep going, keep practicing this until your comfortable for the ice, we can." He flashed him one of his ever-so charming grins as he leaned in closer to his face. "I keep telling you this, but we can do whatever you want."

There wasn't a sound in the entire room. Not even Edwin's breathing or Charles's own heartbeat. Just the sheer, overwhelming silence that seemed to seep into every corner as they stood there, toe to toe, faces so close together they might as well have been sharing the same oxygen.

Slowly, Edwin's head tilted to the side. That ever curious, adorable look Charles associated with him trying to puzzle something out. "Why is it never what you want?" he asked.

"Huh?" Charles asked, feeling stupid for the sound.

"Why is it always what I want. Why is it never what you want?" Edwin asked.

Charles shrugged. He felt as if he should step back, to give this moment the importance and respect it deserved, even if he was confused. He didn't, however. He stayed still, his hands sitting on Edwin's shoulders.

"Maybe cause I want whatever you want?" Charles asked. Edwin didn't quite roll his eyes but it was a near thing. "Oi, don't roll your eyes at me. I'm being serious."

"That hardly seems fair," Edwin said. "To let one person decide for the other."

Charles could see that there were multiple conversations happening here, even if he wasn't sure exactly what they were. Or how he should answer.

Part of him wanted to make a joke about all of this, to laugh it off and pretend like everything was normal. Like friends always spent the entire evening lifting each other up and setting them down safely.

The other part of him wanted to tell Edwin what he actually wanted. That while yes, it was true he wanted whatever Edwin wanted, he wanted Edwin to want him, too.

Was that so hard to ask for? So hard to say?

It was. Because Charles had never been one to ask things of people. He'd always been the type of take what was given to him, to hope that they might give him more if they wanted to, but never expect it.

It was how you kept yourself from being disappointed. You could never be hurt if you didn't expect too much from anyone.

Did that mean that sometimes Charles gave too much to someone who wasn't able to give anything in return? Yeah, but he'd long since gotten over that. That wasn't the point, or at least it wasn't to him.

It cost him nothing to try and make Edwin happy. It would have cost him everything if he asked the same in return and didn't get it.

"Well, you know what they say," Charles said. "Life's not fair."

He started to step back, as he figured the conversation was done, when Edwin's hands came to rest on his waist. They were nervous, barely more than a light pressure sitting there, but Charles could tell. He could feel them.

Oh fuck, was that what he wanted. For Edwin to want him.

"Fine," Edwin said. "What if I told you something I wanted?"

Charles had turned into a statue. He had surely had all of his bones and organs replaced with steel and cement and there was no way he'd ever move again. Not with Edwin talking like that, with his hands on his hips.

"Like what?" he asked around the lump in his throat.

"What if I wanted to make a bet?" Edwin asked. He'd some how leaned even closer, so closer now that Charles's arms were bent at his side, his hands still on Edwin's shoulders. His face was so close they were doing more than sharing oxygen now, they were nearly touching.

"Oh yeah?" he asked. "I like bets."

"Yes, I know," Edwin said, smiling.

"What's the bet?" Charles asked.

Edwin's smile grew just a slight bit more. "I bet that you cannot catch me on this next run," he said.

Charles furrowed his brow. "You're betting that I won't catch you?" he asked, unsure he had that right.

Edwin nodded. "I bet you won't. I bet you drop me straight to the floor. Right on my face."

There was no way in hell anything like that was ever happening, so Edwin could get that out his mind right now. "Why would you bet something like that?" he asked.

Edwin shrugged. "It's my bet, right?" he asked.

Charles supposed that was true. "Fine. And I obviously bet that I catch you," he said. "So what do I get when I win?"

His smile seemed more like a smirk now. Like a cat catching a canary, a particularly proud animal showing off his great deed. "It is more like what do I have to do if I lose."

Smiling, Charles rolled his eyes. "Same difference, yeah?"

Edwin shrugged, that satisfied look on his face. "I guess we'll have to see, won't we?"

He drew his hands away from Charles's hips and backed up slowly. "Let me know when you are ready," Edwin said.

Charles nodded and then shook out his whole body from head to toe. He had never been more ready or nervous for something before in his entire life. He had to nail this. He knew he could, but he also knew that he had to get it right.

He shifted his feet, moving so he would be ready to catch Edwin as he ran in. It wasn't quite the same as if he were skating, but it would be the closest they could imitate without getting on the ice for it.

"Ready," Charles said, nodding at Edwin.

Edwin returned the nod, and then bolted straight for Charles.

He was faster than Charles expected, full speed ahead as he ran straight for him. At the last second he jumped, not even slowing down for a moment.

Charles grabbed onto his waist, twisting around so he could spin with him. If they were on the ice this was where he would help Edwin to get higher, to twist up to use this extra boost to his advantage to practice his jumps.

But they weren't on the ice. So instead, he lifted him up, spun around, and then gently set him back down. He wrapped his arms around him so Edwin would know that it was a choice, that he hadn't dropped him, he had done exactly what was asked of him.

"I win," Charles said. His face was close to Edwin's again, his lips less than a hair away from Edwin's ear.

"You did," Edwin breathed out, as if he couldn't believe it. As if Charles wasn't supposed to tell he had wanted him to win.

"So what now?" Charles asked. "What do you have to do now?"

Edwin cocked his head to the side, putting just a bit more space between their faces as that smug look came across his face. "Well, since I lost, I, Edwin Payne, have to take you, Charles Rowland on a date."

Charles must not have heard him correctly. There must have been some miscommunication going on. Maybe he'd meant to say something else. Or maybe Charles had actually died and gone to heaven.

"What?" he asked.

Edwin broke away from their embrace. Not too far, just far enough that he could step back and actually look at Charles. "You have been so worried about whether or not I am okay or whether or not I am getting the normal college experiences, but are you? Who has been taking you on dates? Who has been worrying about whether or not you are getting what you want?" He looked at him, like there was something more there that Charles was supposed to just know but he didn't. "You spoke a lot about making sure whether or not I had standards, but have you ever considered whether or not you do?"

This… This wasn't how this night was supposed to have gone. Charles had expected to talk to Niko, maybe see Edwin practice some or practice the lifts, and then hopefully grab a late dinner before bed.

He hadn't expected… whatever this was. Lifting Edwin, Edwin challenging him about his own standards, winning this bet he didn't even know they could make.

Edwin must have noticed something on his face, or maybe he simply took too long to respond, because he suddenly started to back track. "It's fine if you do not want to," Edwin said. "I simply— well, that is… I should have told you the bet so you could decide if you wanted to participate still. But I thought this might be a nice way to pay you back, to thank you for all that you have done for me." He twisted his fingers into knots.

"You can say no. That is also part of asking for what you want, too," he said.

"No," Charles said, and then instantly waved his hands around as if that might erase the word. "I mean, yes. No, as in no, I don't wanna say no."

Edwin heaved a sigh, as if this all were a huge weight off his shoulders. "Well then, Charles Rowland, I think I have a date to plan. For our bet, after all."

Charles supposed he did. Although he still wasn't entirely sure how any of this had happened.

But he wouldn't complain. Not if it meant he was actually going to go on another date with Edwin.

Notes:

Hello! Just a heads up that I will not be updating this on the last Friday of this month (August), as I will be out of town for part of the week and then busy with an event during that weekend! Chapters should continue like normal after that, however!

Also, just know that we are NOT done with them training together. We do need to see them actually skate together, after all, and if you saw any snips I shared in the discord not here, that is because they have been moved to another chapter! But don't worry they are still coming lol!

Chapter 26: Maybe I'm Talking About You, Maybe I'm Telling All of My Friends

Notes:

"You came in without warning,
You straight knocked me off of my feet,
But call me a liar if I said
I wasn't scared that you'll leave,
Once you unpack all the messy sides of me,
'cause I'm not usually like this shit,
I think that I'm all in,
'cause you're perfect,
God, I need you,
Just say you need me, too
'cause I want you ever night,
to have my arms around you,
say it a thousand times,
come closer, oh, come closer
I don't wanna fuck this up, whoa,
maybe it's a little too much, whoa,
But I think, I think, I think,
I think I'm in love,"
- I Think I'm in Love by Taylor Acorn

One of the good things about being in a place where he spent so much time as a child was that Edwin knew an astounding amount of places to go. Libraries, restaurants, bookshops, parks, anything that could be thought of, Edwin knew about it.

Of course, there had been changes to the city, too. New owners here, a moved location there. A fair share of places that had gone out of business while he had been away.

There were also places that he had never been allowed to go when he was growing up. Arcades, concert venues, "adult" establishments such as bars or clubs. It was like a whole new side had suddenly appeared in the middle of the city he'd once been so familiar with.

It wasn't an unwelcome change, though. Those types of things made him think of Charles, made him realize how strange and nice it was that the two of them could experience the same city in two different ways.

A sharp elbow nudged him in the ribs. "You wanna let me in on those thoughts, or should I just keep talking to myself?" Crystal joked.

A bit of hair escaped the messy clip she had artistically piled her hair into as the November wind blew down the street. Her long purple coat swished at her feet, showing off her black boots she had painted with a string of wildflowers.

Standing next to her, Edwin felt incredibly… plain. Dark pants, a navy coat, sensible shoes for the weather… It was all so bland compared to her.

"I was merely thinking that I look like your dad and you look like my outspoken teenage daughter," he said flatly.

She burst out laughing. "Hey, you don't dress that much like a grandpa," she teased. "But some jeans wouldn't kill you."

Jeans might not, but the look Edwin gave her could.

"You really that deep in your head about fashion?" she asked. They paused as they waited for the WALK sign to turn green again. Cars blew past in the intersection, exhaust fumes and mud threatening to overwhelm them if they strayed too close.

"I was thinking about changing my skating costume," he said. It wasn't what he had originally been thinking about, but now that he was it weighed heavily on his mind.

"Is there something wrong with it?" Crystal asked, blowing warm air into her already gloved hands.

"No," he said.

"Okay, because that explains everything," she said, elbowing him again.

Edwin took it in stride. "Nothing is wrong with it, it is a wonderful costume," Edwin said. And it was! It was a gorgeous midnight blue and silver, the perfect color combination, and he couldn't have asked for a better fit. The designers had truly gone above and beyond with that one, and Edwin would be forever thankful for it.

But that didn't mean he didn't still want to change something. Even if he hadn't quite figured out what that thing was yet.

Crystal wrapped her arms around him, almost like a hug though Edwin knew it was likely her attempt at stealing his warmth. She had always been a bigger fan of touch than Edwin had, though that had slowed down after David.

It was nice to see some of that coming back. Was it merely time? Or was it an influence from Niko? That girl gave her hugs out to anyone who would sit still for them, it seemed likely that she had had her own bit of influence there.

He leaned into it, just a bit, to make her happy.

Finally, after what felt like forever of walking in the cold, the restaurant they had been searching for came into view. It was in a different location than it had been when they were growing up, but apparently the food tasted the same.

It was as if they had picked up the inside of the old restaurant and simply moved it several blocks down. The same red vinyl seats greeted them, as well as the very familiar smell of Mexican food sizzling in the kitchen. Heat rushed over them, engulfing them in the warm, cozy interior.

Crystal wasted no time removing her coat and waving at the woman behind the counter. She smiled as she waved them over to whatever table they wanted, a short, "Hi, Crystal! Hi, Edwin," all she said before she disappeared into the back.

Edwin frowned as he followed Crystal to the table. He couldn't tell if it was exactly the same table they had sat at as children, but it was close enough. In the corner, a booth against the wall, the table slightly wobbly when Crystal leaned her elbows on it. Just like home.

"I didn't realize you had been here recently," Edwin said. Because surely she must have, there was no way someone remembered either one of them after the last few years they had spent away.

Crystal rubbed her hands together before rearranging the bottles of sauce on the table. "What? Oh, yeah, I brought Niko here," she said. Edwin must have made a face at that, because she rolled her eyes. "Don't give me that look. It was on a night you were eating with Charles."

Still, Edwin would have thought that their first time back here would have been together. Then again, they had been back in town for months and hadn't gone even made the plans. It honestly hadn't even occurred to him.

"I see," he said.

Gently, she nudged him with her foot. "Don't act like I would have rather come here with anyone other than you," she said. And Edwin at least knew it was true.

"I did not even know this place was still open," he said. "I walked by the old location, but it was gone."

Crystal nodded. "Yeah, I was surprised, too. But I figured this would make you pretty happy."

It did. He was glad it was one of those things that still remained the same between them, no matter how much had changed. If he thought hard enough, he could see a younger version of himself and Crystal sitting in a table identical to this one, arguing over who would get the last few chips and salsa before they'd had to leave and go back to their parents.

He wondered if his parents had ever eaten there before. Not that he could remember, but then again, there wasn't much he remembered about them together.

The girl from before, Kristy her name tag read, bounced over to their table. Edwin was fairly certain he'd seen her around campus before, though he couldn't say exactly where. Or maybe it was at a party with Charles? He really did need to start paying attention more.

"So you brought Niko here?" Edwin asked once Kristy was gone. In her place she left the largest serving of chips and salsa Edwin had ever seen in his life. He wondered if this was preferential treatment, or just the size you got when you were no longer two rich kids running from your parents. "It sounds like things are going… well."

Crystal rolled her eyes and she leaned over the table to steal a chip from Edwin's side of the basket. He half-heartedly swatted at her, though he knew that she wouldn't be deterred either way.

"Yeah, it's going great," she said sarcastically. She swirled the chip through the air, as if she were conducting her point. "Niko and I were fighting, I don't know if I deserve her, and my best friend doesn't tell me anything anymore."

Edwin squinted at her. "That is not true," he said.

Her head bobbed to the side, annoyed. "Which part?"

"All of it. Except for the fighting with Niko part, I cannot speak on that," he said. Then, because he really did love to dig himself into holes, he continued. "Is this what you and Charles were talking about? At the rink the other night?" he asked.

Crystal turned to look out the window. It was bright outside, the early November air hardly even phased by the glare of the sun. There were plans to be making, preparations for finals and trips home and everything else, but none of that was what Edwin wanted to talk about. Or even think about.

Right now, all he really wanted to think about was Charles.

"We weren't talking about anything," she said. A lie if ever Edwin heard one.

"That was a whole lot of not talking to be crying about," he said.

With a surge of annoyance Crystal turned back to him. "And what about you, hm? Because you're such an open book."

Edwin liked to believe he was. At least with Crystal.

"What am I not being honest about?" he asked.

"You didn't tell me you kissed him," she said, and then quickly slapped a hand over her mouth.

Edwin froze. It felt as if the world had stopped turning for a moment, the noise of the restaurant dim around him. Fear gripped his stomach, unsettling the chips and salsa he had previously been enjoying.

Anger followed soon after.

"I did not tell you, Crystal, because it was meant to be something private," he said. Because that had truly been his understanding. That both he and Charles had agreed to no longer talk about such a thing, to let it go to the grave quietly and discreetly without anyone ever having to know.

Or at least it had been the plan until Edwin had opened his big mouth to ask him on a another date.

It hadn't been planned, exactly. Or rather it had been planned, but not in that fashion. He had wanted to repay Charles back for all of his kindness to Edwin, for the fact that he had continuously gone out of his way to make sure Edwin was comfortable and welcome, even in spaces he knew that wasn't true.

Someone should return the favor. Edwin thought so, anyways. Charles deserved that much.

But then the kiss had happened and any sort of half-baked plans he had made fell through. Because you couldn't show someone thankfulness for taking them on dates and everything and forget about kissing them.

At least not in Edwin's admittedly limited experience.

"It was, you're right. I'm sorry," she said. "It's not like Charles meant to tell me. It just sort of… happened."

Right. It had just sort of happened and Crystal and Charles had just sort of cried over it.

Well, that really did make a guy feel special, didn't it.

But Charles hadn't rejected his request for help training. If anything, he had insisted on helping him and even went above and beyond. He'd told Edwin that he had watched all of the videos he'd sent him through multiple times, and a few more at that.

Edwin had tried to tell him that it wouldn't be exactly like the other videos he'd seen, because they were not doing a true partner skate or routine or anything, but none of that had bothered Charles.

"I sorta like watching it," Charles said, almost shyly. "Though none of it ever looks as good as yours."

That one little comment alone had nearly had Edwin swearing his life to him. Whatever he wanted, a house, a car, his undying loyalty, all Charles had really needed was to ask for it and Edwin would have given it freely and thought it a fair trade.

Yet Charles didn't ask for anything. Which only frustrated him more.

"So did the kiss," Edwin said.

Crystal snorted, a loud, unattractive thing. "How does a kiss just 'happen'?" she asked.

Edwin thought back to that night. It had seemed natural that they kiss, like the next step in a clearly laid out plan and it hadn't been until Mack had appeared that he really felt otherwise.

"I might have been giving some signs," he said. "Though the kiss was ultimately my idea. I was the one to initiate it."

Though he hadn't been the one clinging to him for dear life. He did not think he would ever get the feeling of Charles wrapping his arms around him, his fingers digging into the jersey he'd been wearing.

And their latest training routine really only served to make it worse. Or better, depending on how you looked at it.

"Never thought I'd see the day you would kiss someone," she said, smiling. She took a sip from her drink and set it heavily back down on the table. "So what was it like?"

Edwin rolled his eyes. "Oh really, must we do this?" he asked.

"Um, yeah! My best friend had his first kiss and I had to hear about it second hand!" she said.

Edwin raised an eyebrow. "That would make a lovely t-shirt," he said. "And is it really second hand if the person who told you about it was the other person involved?"

She jabbed a finger at him. "You're not getting away with ignoring the question," she said, putting on her best 'no-nonsense' voice. A small furrow formed between her brows as she leaned back. "Seriously, Edwin. I just— this is a big deal, right? It feels like a big deal."

Edwin swirled his chip through the salsa. It was unappetizing now, all mixed up, just like his nervous stomach. Big deal seemed like such a childish way of phrasing what this was, but then again, they were gossiping about it like children.

"I don't know," he answered honestly. He was sure it was supposed to be a big deal, but what did he know? It was not like he had ever done this before. He'd never kissed another guy, or anyone for that matter, or ever felt the way he did for Charles. How was he supposed to know what was a big deal or normal when all of it left him feeling breathless and confused?

"Do you want it to be?" she asked.

Now it was Edwin's turn to look out the window. People passed by, some of them sporting big shopping bags from some of the stores nearby. Early Christmas shopping or just a typical day?

Oh God, he hadn't even thought about that before. What would he get Charles for Christmas? It had to be something important, something special and unique, but also not something that would feel so personal that he would feel uncomfortable receiving it from him.

He had just under two months left to find something and already it didn't feel like enough time.

"I don't know what I want," Edwin said, perhaps the most honest he had been with himself or anyone in a long time,

Crystal's reflection nodded in the window. "Yeah, I get that," she said. And he felt as though she really did.

They had never really expressed much of how all of this worked before to each other, and for a moment Edwin was almost sad about that fact. Maybe if they had it would be easier to talk about, something that felt less confusing and scary since they would have a friend there to navigate it with them.

Edwin tried to picture what it was he wanted. There were things he knew, things he had known. The go to school, to skate, to go to the Olympics. To grow up with Crystal and live in the same city as his best friend forever.

Then there were harder things. Things that he had never really had to ask himself before. Did he want someone romantically? Would that person be Charles? What did that even look like? Because eventually Charles would want to move away, to play hockey for some professional team and who knew where that would take him?

What if it took him far away while Edwin was still in school? Would he wait for him? Would Edwin even want to ask him to do that?

But all of those were long-term big picture things and he knew that wasn't what Crystal was asking. What did he want right now? Wasn't that exactly what he had been asking Charles to decide just a couple of days ago?

"I want to matter to someone," Edwin said, and immediately felt like a jerk. Because he knew that he mattered to Crystal, had always mattered to Crystal, but it wasn't the same. There was a difference in the way he wanted to matter, even if he wasn't sure how to describe it.

"Everyone does," she said, as if this were the wisest thing either one of them could have said.

"Yes, but I want to matter the most," Edwin said. "And I want them to matter the most as well." And that, he knew was the difference.

When Charles looked at him it was like Edwin was the only one in the room. He didn't have to wonder if there was anyone else he was looking at, he didn't have to worry that he was being bored by him or annoyed or any other thing the boys growing up had always said about him.

Priorities changed. People changed. But Edwin wanted someone who he put first and mattered the most to. Even if it was in a different way than he and Crystal prioritized each other.

"So why avoid him?" she asked. "Why pretend like none of this happened?"

Wasn't that the question Edwin had been asking himself?

"I don't know," he said. "It seemed like the right idea at the time, we were out with his friends, and I know Charles isn't like that, but I didn't want him to have to be stuck in a difficult position just because I was stupid and couldn't help myself."

He'd gone over the options again and again, ran them so many times he felt like he might be going insane. There was the situation that had played out. Or maybe Charles was upset about it or his friends saw and they were upset about it or on and on and on.

There was also the chance that he kissed him and it went well though it seemed to have significantly lower odds than the others.

"Which is how I got into the trouble I'm in now," he said.

Crystal nodded and stole another bite of food. "Training with him?" she asked. "How'd that go over with Simon, by the way?"

Edwin tilted his nose up. "It's not as though I need to ask Simon before I plan anything," he said. "I can train with whoever I want."

"Yeah, you can," she said. "That doesn't make it not a bit weird."

Edwin supposed that was fair. It probably was a strange choice outside of anyone who wasn't them. But the was something special about it, something that wasn't there when he tried to practice with Simon.

Maybe it was the feelings Edwin clearly held for Charles. Or maybe it was the way Charles never rushed him, never demanded more from him than he was willing to give. There was a difference between pushing someone to be even better and pushing them too far, and while neither Simon or Edwin were the greatest at recognizing that, he could tell Charles was.

Maybe it was because Charles had been apart of team sports for years, or maybe it was just a natural trait of his, but Charles seemed to have his "sport-life" balance pretty well in check. Even for a student athlete.

"What about you?" Edwin asked. "Have you and Niko kissed yet?"

Crystal quickly ducked her face. "Why should I tell you?" she asked, though there was no anger. "You didn't tell me."

"I see, so you are a coward," Edwin said.

She slapped her hand against the table, her eyes sparking up as a smile split her face. "I am not! Take it back!"

"Oh, but I am the one who is so fearful of things," Edwin said, on a roll. "But look at you, you haven't even kissed yet."

"Edwin," she warned.

"Do you intend to leave Niko waiting forever?" he teased.

"We have kissed!" Crystal exploded, and both of them froze at her outburst before laughing. A couple from a few tables over glanced at them, which only set them off more.

"We have," she said. "But it wasn't… It wasn't supposed to mean anything. It was a joke at first, and then it became this whole thing and now here we are. She wants to call me her girlfriend."

Edwin frowned. "Is that not what you are?"

Crystal almost threw her arms up into the air. "I don't know! I don't know what we are, but I want to be pretty damn sure before I start using that word."

"You're a hypocrite," Edwin said. "You were just complaining that I never tell you anything, and yet you hadn't told me you had a girlfriend."

She reached over the table and socked him in the arm, which was much preferable to kicking him under the table like she would have when they were still kids. "I don't have a girlfriend!"

With a huff she leaned back into her seat, the back of it squeaking just a bit as she did so. She pushed away her food, as if to signify she was done despite how much of it remained. "It's just… After David I wanted to make sure the person I dated was real, you know? That they weren't going to turn out to be secretly evil or something. And now that it's happened, I just…"

"One," Edwin said. "David wasn't secretly evil, he was just evil. And two, I don't think Niko is capable of being secretly evil. Or purposefully evil for that matter either."

Her and Charles were both like rays of sunshine compared to Edwin and Crystal. He could not possibly imagine a world in which she— or Charles for that matter, ever turned out to be the type of person to hurt either one of them. Not intentionally, anyways like David had. That seemed absolutely absurd.

"I don't think she is! It was just a point," she said. She dragged her hands down her face in annoyance before leaning forward on the table and hiding her face. "And maybe I don't wanna be like David to her, either."

"That is absolutely ridiculous," Edwin snapped. Even he was surprised by his tone. "You could never and would never."

Neither one of them seemed to know what to say. It wasn't often that they even spoke about David, but anytime they did he was reminded of how terribly cruel he had been to her. How he had played with her mind and twisted everything she thought or said until only the worst version of herself remained.

Not that Crystal wasn't capable of being cruel all on her own, Edwin knew that better than anyone, but David had never helped that issue.

"Do you remember the first time I met David?" Edwin asked. He'd asked it so quietly he wasn't even sure if she would be able to hear him over the noise in the restaurant.

Her shoulders went up and down in a shrug. It was hard to tell whether or not she actually did from her hidden face, but Edwin continued.

"He told me figure skating was, and I quote, 'a gay-ass sport," Edwin said, which earned him a snort from Crystal. "And then proceeded to 'accidentally' slam me into a door frame on his way out."

"I didn't know that," Crystal said, lifting her head up. "If I had, I would've dumped him right then."

Edwin knew that Crystal thought she would have done that. But he could remember how excited she had been, how she had raced through one of Edwin's celebrations to get to see David before they left town once.

He wouldn't have wanted to take that away from her. Not when he was used to it.

That didn't mean he hadn't snarked back at him. David and Edwin had spent far too much time together picking and prodding until one of them broke and left.

Which was usually Edwin, because he knew if he stayed he and Crystal would also get into it. And that was never fun for anyone.

"Do you know what Niko did the first time she met me?" He waited, but she didn't even try to guess. "She bought my coffee and asked me to speak to Becky. Because she had heard I was a 'pretty good skater.'" He couldn't help the smile that spread across his face at the thought, or keep it from his voice either.

Which was a huge trade up from David. Anyone with eyes could see that, even if Niko's words had been a bit of an understatement. He doubted she had been aware of his skill level when she had said that, but still, it had been nice, speaking to someone who saw him as a male figure skater and wasn't instantly making assumptions about him.

It didn't matter if the assumption was correct. It was how it was done and the intentions behind it that mattered.

"I know it's stupid," Crystal said. "That's why I took her on a date here. So we could talk about it, but I still don't know."

Edwin nodded, not sure he had anything else to offer.

"Well, at least you know you're stupid."

"You're pretty dumb, too," she said. "Kissing him and then backing out."

Edwin winced, because he knew it was even worse than that. "I am also going on a date with him again. Well, taking him on one, really."

Crystal stared at him like a deer caught in headlights. "You… You're taking him on a date?" she asked. "You? Are taking him? On a date? Since when?!"

It was Edwin's turn to feel embarrassed now. "Since we started practicing together. Actually practicing together," he said. He didn't regret asking Charles on a date but he could admit that it had definitely been one of his more impulsive ideas.

"What did he say?" she asked, leaning forward, her earlier worries about her and Niko gone. "What did you say? What does it sound like when you ask someone out?"

"I'd imagine it sounds exactly like what everyone else sounds like, Crystal," he said. Though he did have to admit that the bet aspect of it all was probably unique to them.

"You two are going to bet each other all the way to the alter," Crystal said.

"Untrue and dramatic. It was only done this way because I do not believe Charles would have been convinced otherwise," he said.

"Convinced," she said with air quotes as she rolled her eyes. "I'm pretty sure you could have looked at that boy and said anything to get him to go on a date with you."

Yes, that was possibly true, but not the point of the date. The point of it was to show Charles he was just as worthy of this kind of treatment. And he couldn't do that if Edwin had just offhandedly asked him.

"Well maybe I wanted to do better than 'anything,'" Edwin said.

She stared at him for a moment, seeming to consider this. "You really do like him. I mean, I knew that, you wouldn't be putting up with anyone like you put up with him if you didn't but still. I just think it's… nice. To see. And good for you."

Edwin didn't think he put up with Charles. If anything it was the other way around. Which was again part of the reason why he wanted to repay him by taking him on a good date.

Did it make sense? Not entirely, Edwin was sure, but it had in the moment. And it still did in his heart.

He'd never been one to follow such an organ, instead preferring his brain, but maybe this was the perfect opportunity to do so.

"And you like Niko," he said back.

She sighed, an almost dreamy thing. "I do." She lightly punched his arm again. "We're a mess, you know that right?"

Unfortunately, Edwin did.

XXX

The school rink was freshly smoothed when Edwin arrived for practice that afternoon. The hockey team had been in there, not too long before he had arrived, but you couldn't even tell now.

He'd hoped for a glimpse of Charles before he left, but it would seem as though he were too late. Both to see Charles and in general as Simon had already arrived and already seemed to be warmed up.

He glanced at his watch, just to make sure he wasn't actually late. That wasn't a fight he needed to have with Simon. Not with their recent argument still cooling down.

If that was even what you could call it. To Edwin it had simply been the same as always. Simon bothered that Edwin wasn't taking things seriously, Edwin getting angry because he was taking them seriously, even if Simon didn't want to admit it.

It had all been standard, really, until Simon had brought up Charles and his teammates.

"You went to a hockey party?" Simon had asked. He'd nearly tripped Edwin in surprise.

"Well, it was hardly just a hockey party. But yes, on Halloween," Edwin had said.

"That's so stupid," Simon said. "You're worried about whether or not his friends are setting him up and letting him get hurt and you decided to go out and party with them? What if they'd done something?"

Edwin hadn't really had much of a response for that. Which was apparently what Simon had expected.

"All I am saying is that it seems dangerous," Simon said. He'd even reached for Edwin's hand, as if that was going to help him get his point across any clearer, but Edwin had been done practicing for the night.

His phone pinged and the time disappeared, filled up with a text. He couldn't help the smile that spread across his face as he read Charles's message.

wanna get dinner?

It was stupid to be so over the moon about such a thing. It was not as though it was a rare thing that they did, though that didn't mean Edwin treasured it any less. But there really was no need to be so smiley about it.

Simon adjusted his jacket as he pointedly ignored Edwin. Not that it was really a surprising course of action, but Edwin still felt as though it were childish.

Absolutely. On or off campus?— Edwin Payne

"Got any plans after practice?" Simon asked. And if Edwin didn't know any better, he would have thought Simon knew he had plans with Charles, even though he just made them.

Edwin tugged his own long sleeve shirt down his arms trying to block out the chill. He knew that once they got skating he would quickly warm up, but he was freezing at that moment.

"I believe I am grabbing dinner with Charles," he said.

Simon frowned, as he skated on to the ice. "Didn't you just have dinner with him?"

Edwin followed him to the edge, not yet ready to join him. "You know the funny thing about dinner? It happens every night."

Edwin had never seen anyone roll their eyes harder than Simon did. Without another word he skated out further into the rink, leaving Edwin to finish getting ready.

A few moments later and Coach King appeared. There was something stormy about his look, though Edwin couldn't imagine what either one of them had done to deserve such a thing.

"Finish up and get on the ice," Coach King snapped. He turned around before quickly turning back, as if he had just become aware of his tone. "Please."

Edwin at least had no intention of delaying that or provoking him anymore than he already was. Clearly there was something going on, even if Edwin didn't know what.

His skates scratched the ice as he hurried over to join Simon, who leaned around him and eyed Coach King from afar. "What's got him in such a mood?"

Edwin eyed his coach from afar. "I don't know," he said, letting his words softly trail off. It wasn't often that Coach King let anything upset him. Certainly not without letting you know what it was.

"Alright," King said once he got his skates on. "Today we're going to start with some swizzles up and down the rink before we even think about moving into any routine stuff."

Edwin frowned and glanced at Simon. It wasn't that he was asking them to do the exercise, but rather that he was asking them to start on something so easy.

Neither one of them moved. At least Simon was equally as confused as he was.

"I'm sorry, was that too American for you? Lemons, now."

Edwin rolled his eyes. "It wasn't the term, but rather the request."

Coach King turned all of that annoyance towards him. "You know funny enough, it wasn't a request. Go."

Sighing, Edwin and Simon got started. At least this was something they could do side by side, because even though Edwin was not exactly in the mood to speak to Simon, it was better than facing the wrath of a coach alone.

"That was odd," Simon said, nodding back over to King once they were far enough away.

Edwin glanced at the other man over his shoulder. He seemed to be caught between watching them practice and typing something on his phone.

Edwin turned towards the exercise at hand. It was one for beginner skaters, something he and Simon had both graduated from long ago. He'd certainly done enough of that when he was retraining his leg. First, you'd spread your feet out into a wide arc and then bring your toes together and then your heel and then start all over again.

He'd seen the children Niko taught doing such a thing. Neither one of them needed this exercise.

"I was actually hoping he would let us work on your jumps again," Simon said, gliding along next to him. "We haven't gotten to work on them in a few days, and I know you're worried about the competition."

Edwin pressed his fists together, one of his knuckles cracking in the process. This was exactly what he had been dreading. "I was actually thinking that it might be better if we… didn't. Work on them. Together, that is."

Simon stopped. Actually, fully came to a halt with a small errrk across the ice as he did so. Edwin knew it would be a bad idea, that Coach King would only get angrier if they stopped, but he had to. There was no way he could keep skating now.

"What?" Simon asked. "Why?"

There were a lot of reasons, actually, though Edwin knew not all of them were things he could say. "I believe it might be best if we practiced that particular skill separately. At least before the competition."

Their arrangement was already strange, why make it worse? Wouldn't it be better to actually have a bit of distance between them before going into a competition where they were against each other?

"You don't want to practice together," Simon said. His voice was oddly hollow as he looked at Edwin.

Edwin shook his head, skating back over to him. "That is not what I said. I said that it might be best if we did that particular skill separately," he said, though he didn't know why he was insisting so hard. Simon would believe and hear what he wanted to, he knew that.

"Why?" Simon asked. "We've been practicing together just fine?" He stepped closer to Edwin, almost puffing out his chest in the process. "Is this because I beat you?"

It felt as though he had been slapped. "What?" Edwin asked.

"I beat you and now you think that I'm going to— what? Take all your secrets or something? Well news flash Edwin, you're not the better skater anymore," he said.

Edwin felt as though he'd fallen through the ice. His veins rushed so cold they might as well have. Somewhere, far away, he could hear Coach King yelling at them to quit stalling and practice, but he didn't listen.

"That is not what this is about," Edwin said, also stepping forward until their skates touched. He knew he should back away, that this wasn't going to end well if they kept pushing each other on the issue, but there was no reasoning with him.

"Then what is it? Because last week you were fine practicing lifts with me and suddenly you're not? What about after the competition, are you going to want to do them then?"

Edwin threw his arms out to the side. "Perhaps I think it is best that we have boundaries before the competitions! Most skaters have them, you know?"

He could hear Coach King's skates against the ice as he made his way over to them, though he refused to turn around. He certainly wasn't going to be the one to back down in this instance, not when he wasn't the one hurling insults.

"We're not like most skaters!" Simon said, yelling. Edwin couldn't even tell if that was supposed to be a good thing or not. Was he saying that they were special, that there was something different about them, or was he saying there was something wrong with them?

At this point Edwin would be inclined to believe either one.

"Guys," King said, though neither one of them paid him any attention.

"What are you even arguing about?" Edwin yelled back. "I figured you would be happy to not have to help me with my 'half-assed training,' as you so politely referred to it the other day."

Simon was red as he leaned so close to Edwin that he could feel his breath grazing his face. "Maybe it's because I think you could do better than you have been. Am I wrong for wanting you to do better?"

"Knock it off," Coach King said immediately stepping in between them. Both of them were easily taller than him, but he was clearly strong enough to push both of them apart from each other.

His hand lingered on Edwin's chest just for a moment, as if he wanted to make sure he was actually going to stay where he had pushed him. Unfortunately, it was Simon he should have watched out for.

"I can't believe this. How else are you going to practice? A machine? Running yourself into the ground?" Simon's eyes flashed, and Edwin knew he had guessed how exactly Edwin had been practicing his jumps. "It's Rowland, isn't it."

Edwin said nothing. There was no need for him to, he didn't need to defend himself against this, there was nothing to defend against. It wasn't wrong for him to ask Charles for help if Charles wanted to help, which he had assured him many times that he did.

Thomas folded his arms and looked at Edwin. It felt like a cat sizing up a mouse before it batted it away. Or killed it. "What kind of training?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "I thought you weren't going to keep secrets about things like that anymore?"

How had this become such an argument? All he had wanted was to stop practicing his jumps with Simon, and now here he was, having to defend himself against both of them.

"It was merely my jumps," he said. "Charles was helping me like Simon did the other day."

He didn't tell them that they hadn't even made it on to the ice yet. He didn't tell them that one of the last things on his mind when Charles put his arms around him was actually practicing, aside from making sure that they were both safe while doing it.

He knew that it wouldn't matter what he said.

"Rowland isn't even a figure skater," Simon said, pointing at Edwin. "Tell him, Coach."

King rolled his eyes. "I don't think I need to tell Edwin that. Or how stupid it is to have an untrained person helping him with something like what the two of you have been practicing." An eyebrow was raised, challenging Edwin.

A sigh slowly escaped his lips as he slouched just a bit in response. "Understood."

With a nod and a look, Coach King led Simon far enough away that he could speak to him semi-privately. Edwin tried not to feel like a child awaiting punishment, but that was exactly what it felt like.

It felt like all the times he had disappointed his coaches, the way they had made him stand there on the ice while they discussed how they would punish him. The way at least one of them would stand just far enough away where he could still hear and talk badly about him with the other coaches, just so he would be 'properly motivated.'

But Coach King wasn't like that. And Edwin wasn't a child anymore. He was the one who paid for Coach King's training. If he didn't like the way it was working out, he could drop him.

That would, of course, mean that his training would revert back to Coach Despair, something he never wanted to happen. But he could pretend.

Eventually, after several long minutes of discussion, which was kept to harsh whispers across the rink, Simon left. The sigh was not only visible but audible as Coach King approached.

"So, you don't wanna do the jump training with Simon?" he asked, once again crossing his arms.

Edwin shook his head, refusing to say anything. He felt like if he did his words would all come out in a rush and not make any sense at all.

"Why?" Coach King asked. "Was it not helping? You must have thought something was worth it if you were willing to go to Rowland about it."

Edwin steeled his jaw, jutting it out just a bit as if that would make him stronger. "I simply believe that Simon and I would benefit from a separation before competitions."

Quietly, Coach King nodded, considering. "And what inspired this little idea?" Edwin's brows furrowed at the question as King circled around. "I mean, it's completely fair, but it is a big change that you didn't even speak to me about. You know, your coach? I'm trying to be on your side, Edwin."

"I didn't mean to imply that we stop entirely, just the jumps," he said. "I thought it might be better to practice the skill I struggle with the most on my own rather than together."

"Or with Rowland," Coach King pointed.

Edwin rolled his eyes. "What Charles and I are doing can hardly be considered skill practice," Edwin said, and then immediately caught how that sounded.

An enlightened look came over King's face. "Ahh, I get it now," he said. "A little bit of jealousy, that makes more sense."

"It is not jealousy," Edwin said. And then, because he wasn't even sure who he was defending anymore, he added. "It is stupidity, I am sure."

"Well, you won't hear me arguing," Coach King said, a bit more pointedly than he had intended. "Sorry. A bit annoyed today if you couldn't tell and this isn't exactly helping."

Edwin of course had noticed, but pointing it out would likely do him no favors. "Is something wrong?" he asked.

With a sigh, Coach King gestured for him to start skating again. Reluctantly, Edwin did so, following along beside him as he practiced his useless exercises. "It would seem Dolores and Esther are serious about her taking over as your agent."

Edwin nearly fell flat on his face from how fast he stopped. "What?" he asked. "How do you know?"

Coach King motioned for him to keep skating. It took a bit, but eventually Edwin did. "Esther called me, that witch," he said. "Told me all about how the first thing she would do was get you signed to some 'real deals,' whatever that means."

There was a lot of money to be made in sports deals, especially at Edwin's level. Between business deals, competition winnings, and product endorsements there was more than enough to attract someone like Esther.

She had been hounding him for weeks now, though Edwin had blocked her number. Foolishly, he had thought that would be the end of it.

"I already have an agent," Edwin said, though that hardly seemed like the biggest issue here.

"I know," Coach King said. "I don't think they really care."

Edwin finished up his line of swizzles before turning around to start again. "Was that all?" he asked. Because it was annoying, sure, but hardly a new thing.

Coach King shook his head, a grim expression on his face. Edwin had seen happier faces at funerals. "Dolores was planning on dropping by today, though with her special little pet gone, I'm almost certain she won't."

Edwin's heart raced at his near miss. "So maybe it was a good idea to fight with Simon," he said, almost hopeful.

He narrowed his eyes at Edwin. "It was certainly a choice. Now finish this run so we can actually get started."

XXX

His townhouse was dark when he arrived home. Quickly, he hid his bag in the entryway closet before shuffling off down the hall. His brain felt as though it might leak out his ears as he collapsed onto the couch, all of his plans for the evening having gone up in smoke after his practice.

Coach King might have been a bit more understanding by the end of their session, but that didn't mean he was under the impression that any of it had gone well. He was sure he would need to apologize to Simon eventually, and now he knew that the deal with Esther Finch was actually something that Coach Despair was truly pursuing.

They needed his approval to go through with anything, but that didn't mean much when it came to her, in his experience.

A pounding pulse went through his head as he rolled over to the buzz of his watch.

open the door

A message from Charles was really the only thing that could drive him up off the couch at that moment.

Edwin sighed as he forced himself up and down the hall, his socked feet gliding over the floor. With more effort than he felt like it should have required, he unlocked the door and looked down.

On the welcome mat was a bag with a to-go box inside it. A note rested on top of it, which made Edwin smile.

Sleep well! Feel better in the morning!

He cradled the note to his chest for a moment before picking up the to-go box. With one hand he texted Charles.

You could have stayed.— Edwin Payne

A figure emerged from the shadows next to the porch. "Didn't wanna hang around if you didn't feel well, now did I?" Charles asked.

Edwin smiled, the gesture pulling at his pounding head. "I am afraid this is more of a 'stress headache' situation than feeling unwell." He gestured for Charles to follow him inside, which he did with no hesitation.

Immediately, Charles made himself at home. He took off his coat and shoes and followed Edwin down the hall where he quickly sprawled out on the couch in what Edwin had taken to calling 'Charles's spot,' in his head. It wasn't often that they hung out there, but when they did he was always in the same position on the couch, close enough for Edwin to touch but not so close that they were literally overlapping.

The TV was off, as well as most of the lights, aside from one lone one in the kitchen. Charles glanced around before looking back at Edwin. "You just sitting in the dark?" he asked.

Edwin nodded. "I was working on eventually going to bed," he said.

"Not without dinner," Charles said, pointing, and Edwin had to agree. Despite the pain in his head, the food did smell good.

"Yes, I am afraid I had overlooked that part," he said. "I hope I didn't ruin any of your plans tonight."

Charles shook his head. "Nah, mate. Aside from dinner with you, it was going to be homework city. Or maybe sleeping early, but I think we both know that wasn't going to happen."

Indeed, it did seem as though they were unable to sleep at anything even remotely resembling a normal time.

"Was it a bad practice? Or just a bad headache?" Charles asked. And Edwin admired how soft he kept his voice, how gentle everything he did was when he knew how loud and brash Charles could be.

"Both," Edwin said and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. It didn't help, but at least it was darker.

"Wanna talk about it?" Charles asked.

Edwin lifted one hand to look at him. He was sprawled on his couch, his long sleeve red shirt stretched just enough that his neck and collarbones were visible. That easy, laid back attitude was on full display as he tilted his head back against the cushions, waiting for Edwin's response.

"Mm-mm," Edwin said.

"S'alright," Charles said. "There's always later, if you want. But you should probably eat and then sleep."

Instead, Edwin moved until he was stretched out on the couch as well, his long legs stretching out onto one of the rather plush footstools near the couch and his head was laying near Charles's side.

"What if I slept first, and then ate?" he asked.

"I think you're gonna be pretty hungry when you wake up," Charles argued, though he made no effort to get Edwin back up.

"Good thing there will be food," Edwin said.

Charles snorted. "You're impossible," Charles said, though there was so much fondness Edwin couldn't help but take it as a compliment.

Delicately, so much so that Edwin almost didn't register it as a real sensation at first, Charles ran his hand over Edwin's hair. A moment later the feeling came again, his fingers tenderly running along his scalp in ways that gave him goosebumps.

Occasionally, his fingers would wrap a lock of Edwin's hair around them before resuming his gentle massage. It reminded him of Charles's hands on his leg, working the muscle until it was something recognizably human again and the pain went away.

It seemed the same thing applied here.

"Does that feel nice?" Charles asked, his voice low and his face so close Edwin could feel his breath all over. On his ear, his neck, the side of his face.

It felt more than nice, though Edwin wasn't going to say that.

"Mmhmm," he answered.

He could hear Charles grin above him. "Glad to hear, mate," he said. "My mum used to do this when I was little. Always helped to clear them right up."

Edwin didn't care if it helped to get rid of his headache or not. He just didn't want Charles to stop. Not when almost everything about the day had gone so poorly when he hadn't meant for it to.

He deserved to have a pretty boy run his fingers through his hair. It was the least the day could give him after everything else.

"I never really got them as a child," Edwin said. "They only really happened after the accident."

He hadn't meant to say it. But he was so comfortable and Charles was so caring that it just… slipped.

Charles's hand stilled for a brief moment, but that was the only sign he gave that he had even really heard what he said.

"Do they happen a lot?" Charles asked.

Edwin made a small negative noise. "Not in the last few months. But they happened a lot in the beginning. Though I suppose that comes with the territory."

"And what territory is that, mate?" he asked. Once again his fingers hesitated, just a bit slower than they had been before.

Despite how comfortable Edwin was, he forced himself to sit up a bit more just to look Charles in the eye. Their faces were so close together that if Edwin didn't know any better he would have guessed that they were going to kiss again.

But there was a startled yet determined look in Charles's eye, and he knew that not even a kiss would distract him now.

Though Edwin didn't really want to. He certainly didn't want to talk about it, but he also felt as though Charles had earned at least something. Especially if he had gone this long without looking it up.

It was in the news, after all. Despite his father's best efforts.

"A skull fracture," he said softly. "A traumatic brain injury. It is what happens when your head meets the ice, is it not?"

Memories played in front of him. The blood on the ice, on his hands. Crawling, but not getting very far. Something being wrong with his legs, his arms. But not in the way that there would eventually be something wrong with his leg. No, that came later.

They made no sense to him. They never had. He couldn't really remember much of the initial accident or the literal wreck that followed, no matter how many times he tried. Or how many times it was explained to him.

He couldn't tell if that was better or worse. Simon figured it was for the best, while Crystal made no secret how much it concerned her that he couldn't remember.

"You weren't there, Crystal," Simon would always say. "You don't get it."

It always led to another fight that no one ever won.

"Was that…" Charles trailed off his voice nothing more than a whisper against the dim living room. Edwin wished he could see him better, that he would have thought to leave a light on in there so he could see him.

Then again, he probably never would have told him if he had. That was far too vulnerable for his taste.

"Did you…" Once again he trailed off, gesturing to Edwin's leg.

"Actually a separate incident," Edwin said, smiling ironically. "On the same night, however."

Charles nodded, part of his expression catching the light. If Edwin didn't know any better, he would have thought Charles's eyes were wet. "Two things."

"Two things," Edwin repeated, nodding. He couldn't stand to see only half of Charles's expression in the dark, not knowing what he was thinking at this moment. But they were as close as they could be without literally pressing their faces together. No amount of scooting was going to help him.

"What are you thinking?" he asked, barely even mumbling.

Charles sniffed. "I'm thinking I really wanna give you a hug, mate," he said.

Edwin nodded, understanding. "You can, you know," Edwin said, his voice cracking just a slight bit. "I am not breakable, Charles."

Charles threw himself at Edwin, wrapping his arms around him as he did so. He could feel Charles bury his face in his neck, the butterfly kisses of his eyelashes as he rapidly blinked, trying to hold back tears.

His own throat felt tight and his lips wobbly as he tried not to cry, too.

"Believe me, Edwin," Charles said. "I know you're not breakable, alright? Toughest person I know."

Edwin tried to shake his head, but it was impossible with Charles's arms around him. He didn't know anything though, didn't understand everything Edwin had gone through. Would he still think the same if he did? Would he think more or less of him if he knew how he had reacted following his injury, raging at everyone who dared step near him or suggested he give up skating?

Would he think the same if he knew that sometimes Edwin wondered if they were right?

He buried his face in Charles's shoulder as well, enjoying the warm press of skin against his over flowing eyes. It was stupid to cry about now. There was nothing to be done about it. And he hadn't even really told Charles anything.

Yet he couldn't help but remember how scary it had been waking up in the hospital those first few moments, utterly alone and panicked. How Coach Despair had appeared and told him he was finished, that his career was over now before they had ever even figured out if that was true.

"What a mistake."

His breath hitched against his will, and Charles carded a hand through his hair. Then, he pulled it back, leaning back far enough to look at Edwin's face. "Is that okay?" he asked, waving his fingers above Edwin's head.

Edwin nodded. "It had been nice."

Charles bit his lip, and with a nod he ran his fingers back through his hair. A single tear caught in the corner of Charles's mouth and Edwin couldn't help but lean forward and kiss it away.

It was salty from the tear and bittersweet in his heart.

Charles shook his head, a small smile playing at his lips. "None of that now," Charles said, bumping their foreheads together. And Edwin had the urge to lean forward and kiss him again.

Just another peck. Short and sweet, he could do it in an instant.

"Why not?" Edwin asked, his voice cracking. Why couldn't he kiss the boy he liked when he was right there? When his lips looked so kissable and all Edwin wanted to do was make him feel better, too.

Charles leaned forward, his own lips close to Edwin's. "Because." And for a moment Edwin thought he was truly going to leave it at that. "You're sad. And I don't want you kiss me just because you're sad or scared or whatever. I want you to kiss me because you want to kiss me."

Now a tear gathered in the corner of Edwin's mouth, which Charles quickly swiped away with his thumb. "Why can't it be both?" Edwin asked.

"Could be. But I want you to be sure," he said, and suddenly Crystal's words about Niko and David rang in his head. Sure that she loved her before they used the word girlfriend, sure that she wasn't going to be just like David.

I want you to be sure.

Charles eased both of them back down until they were laying even closer together, Edwin's head in his lap. His fingers continued running through his hair, and Edwin wrapped his arms around Charles's middle as he slowly drifted off to sleep.

Edwin had never been more sure of anything in his life. But he knew telling Charles that right now would do nothing. Anyone could say they were sure. He just had to show him he was.

And Edwin did have a date to plan for him after all.

Notes:

just a sprinkle of Edwin lore, as promised by those who voted for an Edwin chapter this go around! <3

Chapter 27: Oh My Dreams, It's Never Quite As It Seems, 'Cause You're A Dream To Me

Notes:

"You have my heart so don't hurt me,
You're what I couldn't find,
A totally amazing mind
so understanding and so kind,
you're everything to me,"
Dreams by The Cranberries

I want you to kiss me. I want you to kiss me. I want you to kiss me.

Those words looped around and around in Charles's head. Why had he said them? Granted, there had been other words around it such as: because you want to, but it really all resulted in the same thing.

Charles had looked at Edwin and told him he wanted him to kiss him.

He wondered if Edwin had even noticed. If those words had sunk down through the panic and heartbreak he could so easily read on his face and registered anywhere in his brain.

I want you to kiss me.

He didn't regret saying those words. Who would? Anyone who ever got the honor of saying them to Edwin had to have meant them.

But it was still different than meaning them and saying them. They had spent so much time lately on the "unspoken" and "unsaid" or possibly even the forgotten than he almost forgot he was capable of just stating a thing he wanted— despite Edwin's most recent wishes, he noted.

It did almost kill him to turn Edwin down. He'd been so soft against him, just the slightest bit of pressure against his own salty lips as he had leaned forward and kissed him again. Just like Charles's dreams.

And all Charles had wanted to do was wrap his arms around him and kiss him back, to keep him close to him and make sure that nothing ever happened to him again. Was that such a hard thing to ask for?

But Edwin had been upset, his emotions running everywhere, even if Charles wasn't entirely sure what had set him off. Offhandedly mentioning his accident didn't seem like something he would do under the best of circumstances, and while Charles was chomping at the bit to get more information about what had happened there, this wasn't how he'd wanted to do it. Or to kiss Edwin.

He wanted him to kiss him because he wanted to kiss him. Because he was happy and needed him and decided there was nothing else he'd rather do. Or because he had thought through everything and realized this was what Edwin had wanted.

Not because he had panicked. Not because he had had a rough day and decided he needed to reassure himself somehow.

Charles could comfort him, he could hold him and take care of him in the best way he knew how, but he couldn't be anything else for him. Not unless Edwin actually acknowledged how big or important such a thing was.

At least to Charles.

Maybe it wasn't as important to Edwin (though he doubted that), but it was important to him. There was no way he could pretend it wasn't. Doing so would only hurt both him and Edwin in the end.

So, despite how much he wanted to kiss Edwin senseless, he knew that he couldn't. Instead, he would wait for him to decide he wanted to kiss him when it wasn't impulsive, when it didn't feel like the world was going to end.

That surely had to be sometime soon, right?

He ran a hand through Edwin's hair, wondering what exactly had happened during his accident. Both of them, he supposed. A skull fracture was nothing to brush off, but then again neither was his leg or back. It was like every time he found out a bit more about Edwin he only ended up with more questions.

And which one had Simon been there for? Both of them? The idea sent a stab of something through his stomach though he couldn't exactly name it. Guilt? Anger? Worry? It was like someone had shoved all of his emotions into a blender and smashed the button beyond repair.

Desperately, he wanted to look them up. He was sure all the information he could ever want would be right there at his finger tips, just waiting for him to google it. Something stopped him though, held him back from even wanting to pick up his phone. He had waited this long to hear about what had happened from Edwin, he wasn't going to look it up now.

Instead, he ran his hand through Edwin's hair again, admiring the way his face uncreased when he slept. It was as if the weight of the world had lifted off his shoulders and melted away while he slept.

Charles hoped it was peaceful. He deserved it after the night he'd had.

Edwin shifted next to him, his face pressing a bit harder into the couch as he snuggled closer. He was like a toddler, always trying to squeeze closer to whoever was next to him in his sleep, which was so different from the Edwin he was when awake that Charles couldn't help but be charmed all over again.

No, he wouldn't look it up. But he would be a little bit more active in learning about what had happened. If he did, maybe he could not only get to know Edwin more, but also help him with whatever it was that seemed to constantly weigh him down.

XXX

Hockey practice and figure skating practice was actually more alike than Charles had ever really considered before. They warmed up, stretched, secured their gear, and often ran exercises that weren't too far off from each other.

The only real difference was equipment and the end goal. Hockey was all about playing a game, scoring a goal against another team, out playing everyone else, while figure skating was almost more like telling a story, moving your body in a way that made it all look effortless, despite how much Charles actually knew went into it.

Not that Charles was actually figure skating by any stretch of the imagination. If anything, he was a prop, something for Edwin to use as he saw fit and then get out of the way.

Or at least he would be, once they were properly on the ice.

Edwin had said that was what they would be starting today, but judging by the nervous look on his face, Charles wouldn't be surprised if he delayed it by another day.

But the days before Edwin's competition were slowly ticking down, and each day they failed to be on the ice was another waste of a day, in Charles's opinion.

Edwin, of course, argued. Like he always did.

"I am constantly running my routine, both on and off the ice," Edwin said, crossing his arms. Today he'd forgone his usual long sleeved shirt and instead opted for a short-sleeved black one that seemed hell-bent on distracting Charles. It should be illegal for Edwin to have arms that nice, after all.

"I know, I know," Charles said, holding up his hands. At least this way some of his arms were blocked from his view. "Jus' think it'd be good to actually do it on the ice, yeah?" he asked, then promptly bit his lip at the way he'd phrased his words.

That nervous look was back, and Edwin uncrossed his arms before immediately recrossing them. It was as if he wasn't sure what to do with them if he wasn't pressing his fists together or crossing his arms.

"Look, if you're not ready, you're not ready," Charles said, which made Edwin scowl. "But just know that I am."

Edwin let out a long suffering sigh. "You cannot know if you are ready, Charles, you've never actually done this before."

Charles couldn't stop the grin from spreading across his face as he reached out to put a hand on Edwin's shoulder. "Never done a lot of things, doesn't mean I don't know what I'm in for."

He might have shook his head at his response, but Charles could see the smile Edwin tried to hide. No matter how he tried, he'd never be able to completely hide it from Charles. Not now that he had grown so accustomed to seeing the sneaky little flashes of Edwin's grins.

"Fine," he said. "It's no pressure either way, but maybe this will make you feel better."

Charles bent down and quickly pulled some items from his bag, making an effort to keep them hidden from Edwin's view, who made it difficult when he insisted on leaning around to try and catch a peek.

"I know you said that you were worried," Charles said, leaning so he still couldn't see. "I get that. So I thought these might make you a little less nervous."

Slowly, he pulled the items out from behind his back and presented it to Edwin.

"Helmets?" Edwin asked, cocking his head to the side like a curious dog.

"Yeah!" Charles said, eager to show him. He stepped forward, tilting the helmet to the side so Edwin could see it better. "Check it, if you're wearing this, then you'll be a lot more protected."

Edwin took the helmet, though he hardly even glanced at it. He stared at Charles, his expression almost completely unreadable.

"A helmet?" he asked again. There was an edge to his tone that hadn't been there before, something Charles wasn't sure how to interpret.

"Yeah," Charles said, just a little bit less sure than he had been when he'd originally come up with the idea.

Edwin's jaw ticked, and Charles realized he must have done something wrong. He held it out, and waited until Charles took it back. "I do not need such a thing," he said and swiftly turned away. "I have been just fine without it all this time and I—"

Charles shook his head,. "What? No, mate, this is just— it's not 'cause I think you need a helmet, it's just…"

Edwin spun around, the color high in his cheeks. But it wasn't the flush Charles usually liked to see, that sort of pent up embarrassed, flustered look, but rather one that said Charles had hurt him, whether or not he had meant to.

"I tell you one thing about my accident, one, and this is how you repay me?" he asked. Wildly, he threw his arm through the air, as if he might be able to hit the helmet in Charles's hands even from that distance.

"What? No. Edwin, no," he said, shaking his head so hard he felt his teeth click. "Listen to me. I thought this might help me. It might help my peace of mind just to know that you're a little bit better taken care of."

His hands were pressed into a triangle in front of him, that ticking in his jaw gone down significantly until it was nothing more than a slight clench. In fact, if Charles wasn't so used to memorizing every single possible way Edwin could look, he wouldn't have even noticed it.

So Charles did what he always did, he pressed his luck.

"This isn't just because of your accident," Charles said. "Well, not entirely." Edwin shifted, his feet moving in a way Charles could tell was about to send him running, but Charles continued on anyways. "Like I said, it's for me. I'll feel so much better knowing that whatever we do, it won't end up like before."

Not that he knew exactly what had happened before. Edwin still had kept his lips sealed on that front, but he had some idea. Skull fracture on the ice. Some sort of leg injury. His brain could fill in the blanks against his will if it wanted to, and all Charles could do was accept it.

But he could do something now. Edwin was fantastic at taking a hard landing, but he shouldn't have to be. And this way he wouldn't. It wasn't completely full proof, helmets could only do so much really, but Charles would feel better knowing that if he dropped him, he would have a better chance at being fine.

"Charles, nothing we do would end like it did… then," he said.

"I know," Charles said, holding out the helmet to him. "I'm making sure of it."

Edwin looked at it again, his eyes skating over it for a moment. "There is no visor," he said. "Or…" He moved his hand, miming the cage Charles was familiar with.

"Nah, this one is one of the old styles," he said, turning it over so he could see more of it. "Figured it'd be aces for you." The lack of visor and cage would mean it was closer to what Edwin was used to skating with, while still protecting him plenty.

He let Edwin take it, much slower than he had the first time. This time he ran his fingers over it, seemingly heavy in thought.

"Look, I even have one, too," Charles said, shaking the remaining helmet in his hand. "So we're both taken care of."

Finally, it seemed as if his words sank in. "Both of us?" he asked.

Charles nodded. "Yeah! You said it could be dangerous, and, well, I wanted you to know that I was taking this seriously."

He reached over and slid the helmet on to Edwin's head. It fit surprisingly well, despite the fact that he hadn't known the exact size for him. He couldn't help but grin at the look of Edwin in a hockey helmet, so at odds from how he usually looked.

"Looks good on you," he said, patting the top of it.

Edwin wasn't able to hide his smile. "Oh, does it?" he asked.

"Yeah," Charles said. "Much better than any other guy I usually see on the ice."

"Because you check so many of them out?" Edwin teased, which earned him a light swat from Charles.

"Oi, I get you a helmet and this is how you repay me?" he asked, though nothing could dampen the smile on his face. Especially not when Edwin was actually smiling at him, just the barest hint of teeth showing as he did so.

"Repay you?" Edwin teased back. "Is that what I should be doing?" He raised one of his eyebrows, clearly waiting for Charles to answer.

All of Charles's words seemed to fail him, as they always did when he thought Edwin looked especially hot. Which he did, right now, leaning into Charles's space just a bit with that ever charming smile on his face.

Oh God, how was Charles going to be able to help him practice if he was this insane about him already?

"You know, I cannot use this during actual competitions, correct?" Edwin asked, his hand grazing lightly against the top of the helmet.

"Yeah, I know. And I also can't be there to throw you around the rink, either, so what's the harm in doing it now?" Charles gently bumped the helmets together, laughing at the way the action and closeness made him go cross eyed in order to see Edwin.

"I suppose you make a good point," Edwin said.

"Always do, mate. So, when do you want to get out on the actual ice?" Charles asked.

He watched as the resolve seemed to harden in Edwin's expression. "Tonight is as good as any," he said, though it was obvious that he was still nervous about it.

"Only if you want to," he said.

Edwin frowned, which looked odd with their faces so close together. "I am supposed to be worrying about what you want, remember?" he asked.

Charles shook his head. "That's for the date. This is all for you. 'sides, we can worry about what each other want. That's what—" he cut himself off, just barely stopping himself from saying something stupid, "— what we do, right?"

Edwin's eyes narrowed, clearly catching his almost slip, but he said nothing. "Yes, well then, if we are going to actually practice on the ice then there are a few more things we need to do."

Edwin instructed him through a few more stretches than Charles was used to, making sure to keep his distance the entire time, with strict instructions for Charles to make sure that he kept his own game tomorrow in mind.

"You don't want to hurt yourself tonight and be unable to play, right?" Edwin asked. And Charles had agreed, though it seemed impossible that it would happen. But he would do anything Edwin told him to, if it meant he was a bit more comfortable with it.

The ice was fresh, completely unused since Mick had gone over it earlier in the day. It would be perfect for them skating tonight, though Charles did suddenly wish he'd watched those videos at least one more time before now. Had he studied them more than his actual homework recently? Yes.

Did he still think he could have watched them more? Also yes.

Edwin held a hand up, freezing him in place. The center of the rink had never seemed so open before, so exposed, and Charles wondered how Edwin didn't have a panic attack every time he stood out there alone before a performance.

It was different with a whole team, all the other players to back you up and the goals on the ice. This was… Intimidating.

Still, he wouldn't let that get to him. Not after he'd talked such a big game to Edwin and he needed him.

Charles put his hand on Edwin's waist. This part he knew, this was the part he had down pat, even in his dreams. Put his hands, there, put his feet here and then he could lift him up.

It was just a bit different on the ice.

One, they were in skates. Which meant that they were starting off at a higher lifting point, which seemed odd, even despite his own years of experience on them. They tilted him oddly, strange and uncertain and completely off balance from how he really needed to be in order to lift Edwin safely and properly.

Thankfully, it seemed as though Edwin had been prepared for this.

"You're leaning too far forward," Edwin said, correcting his posture. "You are not trying to keep a puck from a goal, you are trying to lift a person." Lightly, but firm enough that Charles had no choice but to follow him, he pushed Charles's shoulder's back and adjusted his hips so he was standing a bit straighter.

He tapped Charles's skate with the side of his foot. "We also don't have time to teach you how to use figure skates, as I'd really rather not get pitched to the ice because you accidentally caught your toe pick on something, but just remember that my blades are longer than yours. However much distance you think you need between us, you need to add a bit more."

Charles nodded. He could do that. Distance. They needed to keep distance. Right.

Edwin circled back around, his inspection complete. Charles wondered what Edwin saw, if he could tell how jittery he was just to get started.

"We'll start as we did off the ice," Edwin said in a voice that reminded Charles of his old coaches. Straight forward and to the point, but not to the point of being rude. "First, you will lift me and then put me down. Once we determine that you have a good grasp on that we can try moving."

Gulping, Charles nodded. Right, lifting him. On the ice. Easy, that was exactly what he had been training all week for. He'd even been working out, lifting weights more just to make sure he had a solid base for Edwin to trust.

He could do this. Edwin believed he could, so he should too.

Edwin stepped forward, his skates almost toe to toe with Charles's. He had to stand further back than Charles would have originally planned for, his toe picks threatening to snag on Charles's skates in the process, but he was there. Closer than he usually was, close enough that Charles knew what he was supposed to do now.

Slowly, he lifted his hands and placed them on Edwin's waist. The angle wasn't right, he knew that, and Edwin smiled as he adjusted his hands, enjoying the way they dragged against his t-shirt.

God, who knew that Charles would reach a point in his life that he thought a t-shirt was going to drive him insane. He'd been driven less insane by actual mini-skirts before.

Finally, he lifted Edwin up, going until his arms were almost fully extended and Edwin's legs were off the ground completely. For a brief moment, he could feel his skates slide, just a bit, before he corrected them and slotted them back into place. From there it was easy to turn slightly and put Edwin back down on the ice, safe and sound.

Exhaling, as if he had been more nervous than he had let on, Edwin smiled. "That was very nice, Charles," he said. If anyone else had said it that way, Charles would have been annoyed, the tone far too close to that of a dog owner speaking to their pet, but with Edwin it was different.

Everything was with him.

"Told ya I could do it," he said, still not letting go of Edwin's waist.

"Let's not get cocky," Edwin said. "You have successfully picked me up and put me down, that is a far cry from actually doing the practice we have been doing off ice."

Charles wrinkled his nose. "Is it?" he asked. "Because it doesn't seem cocky if I can do it again."

Without warning he lifted Edwin, who went rather willingly, and turned around to set him back down on his feet. Still, he let his hands linger on Edwin's waist, refusing to let go for even a minute until he had to.

"See?" he said, "I can do this all night."

Edwin rolled his eyes. "You are insufferable," he said, which only made Charles bring him closer. It made him want to kiss that smart-ass look off his face, to kiss him until he could really show Edwin what insufferable was.

"But here you are, suffering," he said. Or, at least Charles was suffering. Edwin's arms in that t-shirt, the closeness of him, the way his breath smelled minty as if he had purposefully done something to it just before training, and the smooth scent of his cologne or deodorant, whatever it was was killing him.

"I am," Edwin said, and his eyes flicked to Charles's lips so fast he would have missed it if they weren't standing so close.

Charles really should kiss him now. But he'd told Edwin that he wanted him to do it, that he wanted him to kiss him when he was sure, not just because he was sad or scared. All of this really would have to rely on when Edwin said.

For a moment he thought Edwin might do it. That he would brush his lips against his and this whole thing would be cleared up, but then that stupid, brilliant, wonderful idea of a helmet clanked against his and Edwin backed up.

"So, it seems as though you are capable of lifting me, even on the ice," Edwin said.

"Not too hard, mate," Charles said. "You're a stick." A stick with muscles, Charles would give him that, but he was still thin.

"We are built similarly," Edwin said, narrowing his eyes.

Charles flexed his arm, as if the last week of working out would be visible by that alone. "Nah, look it," he said and couldn't help the burst of something in his chest as Edwin watched him with interest.

It seemed as if Charles wasn't the only one who appreciated nice arms.

"That does not change what I said," Edwin said, obviously trying desperately to keep his expression and tone neutral.

"Oi, can't you just give me this?" he asked, rolling his eyes.

Edwin rolled his back. "I wasn't taking anything from you. I was merely pointing out that if I am a stick, then so are you."

Charles let out a huff. "Yeah, well, I don't see you picking me up."

Edwin tilted his head to the side, that curious dog expression Charles loved so much back in place. "Do you doubt that I can?" he asked.

It wasn't so much that he doubted Edwin, he could see his arms. But the idea that Edwin could pick him up and move him, as easily as Charles had moved him, seemed… off? He knew he was strong, remembered him moving him around perfectly well when drunk, but that wasn't the same thing, was it?

"I have lifted Simon before," Edwin said, as if that was supposed to help his case.

"I'm a hell of a lot more muscle than Simon," Charles said, unable to keep the snark out of his voice.

Edwin shook his head. "You are being as ridiculous as he was about your hoodie," Edwin said. Before Charles could ask him what exactly he meant by that, Edwin continued on. "If I have no problem picking up Simon, then I would have no problem picking you up."

Charles opened his mouth, ready to smart off, say something stupid again about Simon or Edwin or maybe even himself, he wasn't sure. But all thoughts immediately fled the second Edwin sighed in exasperation and put his hands on Charles's waist and lifted.

It was strange to be lifted up in the air. Charles couldn't remember the last time he had been genuinely picked up like that, high above someone's head and not just up to their shoulders or so. Instead he felt like he was flying, the ice disappearing from under his feet for a moment as Edwin swung him to the side to put him back down.

The whole thing only lasted a few moments, really, but it felt as if it had stretched on forever. Edwin's hands on him, that gut-swooping feeling of suddenly being higher than you should and then put back down, the realization that Edwin had been the one to do it.

Bloody hell, Edwin had just picked him up like a ragdoll and moved him. And Charles had gone along with it, so unused to being handled that way at all.

But it hadn't been scary. Maybe because it had happened so fast or maybe because it was Edwin, he wasn't sure. But now that it was over he knew that he wanted it to happen again. Multiple times. For… science or practice or something. Clearly no other reason.

That smug little know-it-all expression was back on Edwin's face, and Charles could only imagine that it was in response to the rather slack-jawed one on his.

"That was…," Charles trailed off for a moment, unsure what it was. Fun? Exhilarating?

"Impressive?" Edwin asked.

"Hot," Charles said, which immediately made both of them let go of each other and step back so fast it looked as if they had been shocked.

"I'm sorry?" Edwin asked, and Charles wasn't sure if he was apologizing or asking for clarification.

"No, I am," Charles said, waving his hands through the air as if that could swipe the words away. One of these days that big mouth of his was going to ruin everything, he just knew it.

Edwin's rather expressive brows bunched together and pulled downward. "So, you do not think it was hot?" he asked, as if he were intent on killing Charles. Really, it would be easier and kinder to put a stake through his heart at this rate.

"I think I'm an idiot," Charles said, and tried to bury his face in his hands. As if that would somehow block Edwin out or make him forget about everything else.

"Not an idiot," Edwin said, his voice far closer than it had been before. "I just… hadn't expected you to say that."

Peeking between his fingers, Charles could see Edwin hovering in front of him, that nervous, skittish look back on his face. He twisted his fingers, clearly worried than he had done something wrong, and there was no way Charles could allow that thought to linger for even a moment longer.

"Hadn't meant to say it, had I? Meant to be more of an 'inside thought' type of thing," he said and gave Edwin a smile he hoped reassured him.

"Inside thought," Edwin repeated.

"Mmhmm."

"Do you… do you have a lot of 'inside thoughts'?" Edwin asked. Closer and closer he moved until they were back in range of each other, and Charles's hands simply itched to reach out and pull him even closer.

Would that be something Edwin was comfortable with? Would he understand that Charles wanted all of this: the practicing, the training, the touches and more? Then again, Edwin struck him as a 'keep it separated' person when it came to things like this. Would he be upset if Charles brought up how roller-coastery he had made Charles's stomach the whole time they had been practicing together, or would he understand? Would he surprised Charles and tell him how much he had enjoyed it too?

"They're called 'inside thoughts' for a reason. Gotta keep them inside," Charles said, tapping the side of his head.

For the millionth time that night Edwin rolled his eyes, but he did not argue.

"So," Charles said, drawing out the word. "More practice?"

He stared at Edwin, waiting for him to answer. They had hardly started, but if Edwin called it for the night, then Charles would accept it and ask if he wanted to do dinner, even.

"More practice," Edwin said, nodding his head. "A few more of these lifts, and then I should probably do a few runs, as well."

"Brills," Charles said. "That's all… aces, whatever you wanna do." He could feel his cheeks burning as he stuttered out his answer and he knew that the smile on Edwin's face was from more than a bit of amusement.

Charles loved practice nights.

XXX

Away games had their perks and their downsides.

Downside: hours on a travel bus, the worse locker room, cricks in your neck from odd sleeping angles, less of your supporters to cheer you on.

Perk: traveling to new places, checking out new rinks, and occasionally, watching Coach Nurse lose her mind on some poor sod who cut them off in traffic.

The bus driver rolled his eyes as her Scottish accent rolled over them, her anger quickly escalating as she tried to direct the bus.

"At this rate the game will be over and the ice will have melted by the time we arrive," she snapped.

The driver rolled his eyes, clearly unphased by her yelling.

Well, I shall leave you to it. I know how you like to listen to music before a game, and I do not wish to distract you. Good luck. — Edwin Payne

Someone was going to have to teach Edwin how to properly text. Or at least how to send a message that didn't sound so formal, didn't sound like he was going to have to have some sort of meeting about the contents of the message the next time they spoke.

Good luck.

It sounded so ominous, even though Charles knew that was not the intention.

Though he did like the way he signed off all of his messages, despite the fact that Charles obviously knew who was texting him. It was charmingly old fashioned, as if they were writing letters or telegrams to each other that they needed to sign off on.

dont have to stop texting. we've got hours before the game, id love to talk to you

He'd sent his own response to Edwin almost immediately, but so far no answer. The game was hours away and there was only so much scrolling he could do to distract himself on the bus ride.

The travel bus was a mix of silent, focused players and a group of the rowdiest guys anyone had ever met.

Sighing, he took his headphones out. Almost immediately he was dragged into some sort of debate between Hunter and Fossy.

"Tell him, Chucky," Hunter said, leaning across the aisle to slap his arm.

"Tell him what?" he asked.

Fossy leaned around from the seat in front of him, rolling his eyes. "Hunter's talking about arm days vs leg days," he said.

"I'm telling you, Chucky's gonna be on my side about this. Have you not seen the way he's been working out his arms?" Hunter asked.

Fossy looked at Charles expectantly. "I mean, yeah, I have been. A bit. Just a little," he said, as if he might downplay it. It's not like he never worked out his arms, but he could admit that they amount he'd been doing so lately was likely noticeable compared to usual.

But he'd wanted to make sure he was strong enough for Edwin, didn't he? What as a few extra reps here and there or a few more weights?

He hadn't considered the chance that someone had noticed him.

"Never gonna beat these guns," Mack said from the seat next to him, flexing his arms as he did so. Charles couldn't help but roll his eyes at him and shove him playfully into the window.

"Weren't you supposed to be napping or something?" he asked.

"Can't," Mack said. "Not with Dumb and Dumber arguing about arms and legs. It's usually Brad and Hunter." He pulled down his ball cap, as if not being able to see them might somehow make them quieter.

Charles glanced over next to Hunter's seat where he knew Brad was. He was so focused on his phone that he hadn't even noticed Fossy or Charles looking at him yet.

"What's up with him?" Ollie asked, suddenly appearing from the seat in front of Mack next to Fossy. He sat on his knees, leaning over the tops of the seats as if there were any way they might have missed him.

"Maren," Hunter mouthed, which left all of them rolling their eyes. It really was the same old story every time with them.

Charles glanced at his phone, still empty of messages. Edwin must have checked his phone by now, right? Had he seen Charles's message? Did Charles go a little overboard using the word 'love' when he mentioned wanting to talk to him? He hadn't thought anything about it when he'd sent it, but now that he did, he was nearly panicking.

Not that he would show it. Showing it would only lead to more questions, and Charles wasn't sure how to explain all of this just yet.

Whatever he and Edwin were was starting to get serious. Actually, he was sure it had been serious for a while now, but it seemed like they were finally getting on the same page. And while he never wanted to hide Edwin from any part of his life, he could respect that he tended towards the private sort of style.

The last thing he wanted to do was put their relationship on blast before either one of them really figured out what their relationship meant.

"Now you're doing it," Mack said, not even lifting his hat off his eyes.

"Don't you have earbuds?" Charles asked going to put his own back in. At least Fossy, Ollie, and Hunter had all moved onto a different conversation.

"I think I'd be able to hear your poor little kicked puppy dog look over whatever I played," he said. "So what's up?"

"Nothing," Charles answered, a bit too quickly.

Sighing, Mack slid his hat up off of his face. "Is it something bad?" he asked. Charles shook his head, trying to avoid the conversation all together. "Is it Niko?" Another shake. "Your mom?" Another shake. "Edwin?"

"Why do you always assume everything is about Edwin lately?" Charles muttered, not wanting to be overheard.

"Because it really has been," Mack said. He held his hands up in defense, like he might need to fend off Charles. "Look, I like Edwin. He's fun and kinda bitchy—" Charles couldn't help the snort at that, "But I'm worried about your focus. We've got a game in a few hours, and I'm already having to deal with that," he nodded towards Brad, "I can't be worried about this, too."

Charles flashed him an easy, warm smile. "No need to worry, I'm incredibly focused."

Mack raised an eyebrow that would have made Edwin proud. Disbelief colored his expression, though Charles really had no counter for it. It would be hard to convince him he was incredibly focused when he had spent the last twenty minutes staring at his phone.

"Well, this oughta be fun," Mack said, sliding his hat back down over his face, and Charles couldn't help but feel like he'd put a curse on them somehow.

XXX

Charles could feel himself take his first full breath all day as they stepped out into the rink. His pre-game nerves were completely gone, instead replaced by the sort of adrenaline that could only ever really be replicated by playing the game. Everything else slowly faded away as he followed his team about and around, circling for warmups and practice shots.

Another good thing about away games, no more home game announcers.

It might be nice to make it through a game without one of them picking on his team. He never thought he'd miss the day when old man Dagfinn had retired as their announcer, but here they were.

Ollie skated around him, waving at the crowd. He tried to say something to him, but it was lost to the music and the crowd chanting, most of it obviously for the home team.

"What?" he asked.

Ollie repeated himself, and when that didn't work he rolled his eyes and pointed up into the stands.

Charles turned, curious what had him so whipped up.

It felt as though his heart had stopped but in the best way possible. Or as if he were stuck in a dream he didn't want to wake up from, some sort of unreal state that didn't happen in real life.

Because standing there in the stands, next to Niko and Crystal, was Edwin.

All three of them were decked out in Dragons merch again, and it seemed like Niko had even convinced Edwin to wear one of the ball caps she'd bought him a while back.

"What the fuck?" he asked, sure that his eyes had to be lying. Because there was no way that Edwin could be here. They were hours from campus, if Edwin was here it would mean he had to drive, that he would have had to have spent hours traveling, when Charles knew how he felt about that.

Yet there he was. There was even a slight smile on his face, that sort of nervous, half lifted one he sometimes wore when he wasn't quite sure whether or not the idea he had acted on was a good one. It was so similar to the look on his face after their first kiss, to the one he'd worn after the bet he'd made to take him on a date, like the one he'd given Charles after his first game.

Charles wished he had a photographic memory so he could savor that look. Or even the ability to paint it, some way to capture it so he would never forget how he looked in moments like this. Moments where Edwin was unsure, but he still did the thing, where he was scared but he didn't hide from whatever choice had been made.

Until something else made him, of course. Like Mack walking out after their first kiss or Simon appearing on his doorstep after their first date.

But there was nothing to do that here. That smile stayed in place and Charles could tell that Edwin was a bit proud of himself to have surprised Charles so thoroughly.

"Niko's here!" Ollie said as he skated around Charles. "And am I crazy or is that Edwin, too?"

Charles grinned and slapped him on the back. "You're definitely crazy. But yeah, that's Edwin."

"Did you know they were coming?" Ollie asked, and Charles could only shake his head. "What a bomb-ass surprise then, dude!"

The grin on Charles's face could really only grow after that. It was a pretty sweet surprise, after all. He couldn't even imagine how much of a wreck Edwin must have been driving up here, all just so he could see Charles play a game?

It wasn't even an important game. There was no title on the line, no rivalry to really speak of, nothing more important than a weekend hockey game. And yet Edwin had made sure to go out of his way to see him play, even when Charles had told him he didn't need to.

That had to mean something.

His stomach fluttered as he tried to get his brain to focus back on the warmups at hand. Forget all about the audience, forget that Edwin was there for now. He could focus on all of that after the game when there would be plenty of time to ask him what the hell he was doing. Driving that far for this? Insanity.

And so incredibly thoughtful that Charles wasn't sure what to do with that information. No wonder Edwin hadn't been answering his phone all day.

"Told you to focus, didn't I?" Mack teased as he went by, playfully shoving Charles back to attention.

Still, he couldn't help the last glimpse he gave Edwin in the stands.

XXX

Two periods had gone by with surprisingly little happening on the ice. As far as hockey games went, Charles was tempted to call this one boring. There had been no big plays, no impossible scores, and very little interaction with the other team in any real capacity.

Maybe that was what led to him looking up at Edwin so much. The lack of action on the ice of course meant that all of that attention had to go somewhere, and why not at the prettiest boy he'd ever seen in his life?

The boy who'd driven hours just to see him play. Drove, even though he'd likely rather gnaw off his own arm then get in a moving vehicle. And Charles couldn't even give him a good show.

It's not even like they were losing, they simply weren't winning. Their team would score and then a few plays later the other team would score. Usually, this led to the "neck and neck vibes" of a game, but it didn't even feel like that. It was more of a step-for-step sort of song and dance, one that was played out and slow.

But at least they were winning now. He would be embarrassed if Edwin had traveled so far only to see him lose.

Edwin's smile was visible, even from Charles's spot on the ice. He tried to ignore the way the butterflies beat against his insides, swirling and distracting him in a way that had never occurred during a game before. If this is what Edwin could do to him before they ever even started dating, maybe he would have to consider limiting the games he was allowed to attend after all.

One of the other players scoffed, though Charles couldn't tell exactly what it was they were looking at or who exactly had done it.

The puck dropped and everything set off into motion again. Charles kept close to Mack, like he'd done most of the game, fully intending to snag the puck and take it the rest of the way to the goal the first chance he got.

Before any of that could happen though, Mack's arm came up and slammed into one of the opposing players, knocking him firmly off his feet.

Charles skid to a halt, spraying up ice in the process. Fights weren't unusual on the ice, of course, but Mack? Mack was picking a fight?

Less than a second had passed before Brad was also there, slamming the other nearest player into the boards. The first player tried to get up and swing at Mack, too, but Mack was prepared. He'd already stripped off his gloves and was ready for him, swinging fast enough that his hand was nearly a blur.

Whistles were blown and players who weren't actively involved were ushered to the side. The fight was quick, ending just as soon as it had started, though Charles had no more answers.

He tried to catch Mack's eye as he walked past, but he waved him off, cursing under his breath. Brad, sporting a split lip, did the same.

Coach Nurse was seething from her spot off the ice. There was no way they weren't going to be doing laps and shitty runs up and down the stands for this.

Fighting was one thing, seemingly unprovoked hits was another.

"Oi," Charles said, moving towards Mack and Brad as they made their way to the penalty box, but was firmly cut off by a ref.

The other team glared at them as they lined back up, though Charles had no clue what had caused any of that. Usually you could tell what had set them off, what had been said, but Charles hadn't seen any of it.

None of his other teammates seemed to have an idea, either.

"No clue," Hunter said, swinging up next to Charles as they lined back up. "Brad said something about talking shit, but…" He shrugged.

Well, that did explain it. Mack was usually pretty easy going, but he didn't take shit talking his team very well. Though, what there was to even talk about he didn't know. The game had been going so… smoothly? It seemed weird that any shit talking would be involved.

But that wasn't his issue. His issue now was to make sure that the rest of the team stayed out of the box and that they won. And how hard could that be really?

XXX

In the end, it wasn't actually that hard to do. Though, he did have to thank Mack and Brad for seemingly putting the fear of God into the other team, which meant that they didn't even think about fighting again before the end of the game.

He sighed as he put his chain back on and his earring back in. Mack and Brad had already received a dressing down from Coach Nurse and were currently posted up on opposite sides of the locker room, pretending that everyone didn't exist.

Aside from one, dismissive wave of Mack's hand when he told him it, "Didn't matter, just stupid shit talking," it would seem as if the whole matter had been put to bed.

There was no way Charles was going to leave it there, but he knew better than to press it now. There would be a whole bus ride back home that he could spend asking him, after all.

Your boy's waiting on you ;)

Charles couldn't even hide his grin at Niko's text. Not that he wanted to, but the way he lit up should be studied. What was it about Edwin that made his heart skip a beat so fast, made him want to learn poetry just so he could write it for that English major nerd?

It was love, that much was obvious. But damn, Charles had never known love could be so powerful.

With a wave and a slight excuse he raced out of the locker room, Mack's voice chasing after him, warning him not to be late for the bus.

Charles almost wished he would be. He'd get eaten alive by Coach Nurse for it, but at least he would be able to ride back with Edwin.

And Crystal and Niko, but most importantly, Edwin.

He slammed the side doors, bursting out of them at nearly top speed and towards the sidewalk lining the parking lot. Several people were standing around, clearly finishing up last minute conversations or waiting on someone before they left , though none of them even so much as glanced at him.

A hand shot up into the air, Niko's navy nails waving over the tops of their heads. "Over here!" she said, though she hadn't even needed to.

Because Charles had already spotted Edwin.

Edwin, who looked absolutely adorable in his Dragons hoodie. Who seemed to not even notice Charles had exited the building just yet, still talking to Crystal.

Who had drove five hours to come and see him, after saying that it was too far. When he didn't even like to be in the car for the few moments it took him to get across town.

Edwin had drove all this way, just to come and watch a normal game. Just for him.

He felt like crying. When was the last time anyone had done something like that for him? Sure, Niko had attended all the games she could, and he would be forever grateful for that, but when was the last time someone he dated went out of their way like that? When was the last time they showed up unannounced just to surprise him?

Never. At least, not that he could remember.

He tackled Edwin from behind, still so careful of his leg and his back. Just for good measure, he even picked him up, twisting them around until he could sit him back on his feet and properly face him.

Red colored Edwin's cheeks, though he could tell it was the good kind of red. The cute red, the red that made Charles go nuts and want to kiss him until it covered him all over.

"You came!" Charles said, unable to stop himself from nearly shouting. He couldn't help but slowly remove his hands from Edwin's waist and back to his own side where they belonged.

"I did," Edwin said with a nod. Charles wondered how stressed he had been the whole way there, if he was planning on driving back that night or if they were staying somewhere in town and driving back at a more reasonable hour, but he didn't get a chance to ask any of that before Edwin continued.

"Good game," Edwin said, handing him whatever it was he'd so carefully kept in his hands despite Charles's rather sudden airlift.

He looked down and noticed a rather large slice of pepperoni pizza slowly steaming up the little plastic bag that held it. The grease and cheese were holding on for dear life and bits were slowly sliding off as Charles took it in his hands.

"Thanks?" he said. There had been so many things he had wanted to ask, the last thing he had expected was to be handed a pizza.

"Oh," Edwin said. "You— I thought I remembered you saying you would get pizza after a game. And while I know concession stand pizza hardly compares to homemade, I didn't exactly have an—"

Charles stared at the warm, greasy bag in his hand. Edwin had got him pizza… because he remembered the story he'd told him. He remembered that he and his mum made pizza at home after games, and that Charles sometimes missed it. Sometimes wished he was still a kid and could do that again, even with how shitty his dad had been.

He'd remembered. And not only that but got him a piece of pizza.

Without even thinking, Charles cut him off. "Mate, this—" He couldn't help it as his arms came up to wrap around Edwin, quickly securing him in the tightest hug he had ever given him before. It was even more secure than the lifts, his chin tucked into the crook of Edwin's neck so he could bury his face there.

Edwin let out a small whoosh of air as Charles squeezed the life out of him. Uncertain arms came up to wrap around him, those long, nimble fingers briefly digging into his own hoodie as Edwin kept him close for a moment.

Heat prickled at his eyes, threatening to spill over. It was dumb, truly a stupid thing to cry over. A piece of pizza from the concession stand? Charles was twenty-one years old, he didn't need to be crying over such pointless things.

But he couldn't help it. Because he hadn't told that story to Edwin to get him to feel bad for him or buy him a pizza. He'd told it to him because he'd wanted to, because he'd felt like Edwin needed something that he could share with him.

And Edwin had remembered.

Edwin shifted slightly, possibly trying to get a glimpse of Charles's face, and Charles quickly stepped back, though he didn't let go of Edwin. His arms stayed wrapped around him, firmly holding them against each other.

Gently, he pressed his forehead against Edwin's, unable to hide the grin on his face. "Thanks, mate," he said, ignoring the way his voice cracked just a bit.

"Of course," Edwin said. "I—"

Charles leaned forward, and pressed a barely-there kiss to the edge of Edwin's mouth. On the corner, just like Edwin had done to Charles the other night at his place.

He had told himself that he would wait for Edwin, that all of this was supposed to be going at whatever speed Edwin had wanted it to, but how could he resist? And hadn't Edwin just been saying the other night that he was interested in what Charles wanted?

He wished he could lean in further, press his face against Edwin's until there was nothing else he could think about, until Edwin's big brain stopped thinking and Charles's never butted in again. But he could feel Crystal and Niko's eyes on them, and even though they clearly already knew something was going on, he still wanted to keep some things to themselves.

It wasn't a free show, after all.

"Aww, kiss again," Niko teased quietly, which earned her a gentle elbow from Crystal.

Even Edwin smiled at that. He opened his mouth, though whatever he was going to say was lost to another voice.

"Chucky? Bus is loading up," Hunter said.

Charles cursed under his breath as Edwin slipped from his fingers. He moved just far enough that they were standing an "acceptable" distance from each other again, and Charles instantly missed him.

He expected there to be some sort of negative look on Edwin's face, guilt, fear, something like the look he'd seen when Mack had interrupted their kiss and the idea of seeing that on Edwin's face nearly killed him.

But it wasn't there. Instead, there was still that small, shy smile, almost as if there was a secret the two of them had just shared. Like two kids sneaking candy from a jar rather than two adults kissing in a parking lot.

"I'll see you guys back in town?" he asked. It took effort, but he looked towards Crystal and Niko when he said it, just so they didn't feel left out.

Both of them had matching smiles on their faces, and Charles had the feeling that Edwin was going to be teased the entire drive back. Hopefully it would help to distract him from being in a car all the way back to the school.

"Mmhmm!" Niko said as she clapped her hands in front of her. Crystal tried unsuccessfully to stop her hands, resulting in them holding hands while Niko clapped.

"See ya later?" Charles asked, turning back to Edwin.

Edwin nodded and bit his lip. "I shall see you tomorrow?" he asked.

"As long as we're still down for our date?" Charles asked, keeping his voice low. That detail was only for the two of them, no one else needed to know.

"As they say, it's a date," Edwin said, that utterly brilliant smile back on his face.

Charles knew that he was going to be thinking of that smile the whole ride home.

Notes:

so sorry last week's chapter was so late. lots of things conspired against me and this chapter, including but not limited to work and me hurting my wrist and fingers and being unable to type very much lol

Reminder that this is the week I will not be posting a friday hockey chapter (though that sounds odd, since I am posting one now lol)! I shall see you all in the next chapter, when their big date happens, yaaay! <3 <3

Chapter 28: I Believe In A Thing Called Love

Notes:

"I wanna kiss you every minute, every hour, every day,
You got me in a spin but everything is a-okay,
[...]
I believe in a thing called love,
Just listen to the rhythm of my heart,
there's a chance we could make it now,
We'll be rocking 'til the sun goes down,
I believe in a thing called love,"

I Believe In A Thing Called Love by The Darkness

Bus rides home always made Charles even more anxious than the bus ride to the game. On the way there he could distract himself, use all of that pent up energy to fuel him to play better, to focus on the game ahead, or something, but it was entirely different on the way back.

The nights where they won he could usually con another one of the guys into playing a game with him or talking to him or something else like that to make the bus ride go by faster. The nights where they lost and had a long drive ahead were usually spent with his earbuds in and pretending that no one around him existed.

But tonight was special. Because not only did they win, but Edwin had traveled to see him play. Just because he wanted to. Edwin had drove hours just to see Charles play a game he could have waited and watched him play at home.

Because he wanted to support Charles. Because he wanted to be there to give him a piece of pizza after it.

His heart beat faster in his chest, threatening to run away from him if he thought about it anymore. What was he supposed to do with this fluttery feeling, with this messy, twisty sort of sensation he could feel building in his throat? If felt like if he didn't scream how in love he was with Edwin from the rooftops right this minute he might explode.

Mack shifted next to him, leaning his head up against the window like he might try and sleep like that. "You are like a goddamn Energizer bunny," Mack said, breaking through Charles's mounting frustration. "Calm down."

"Sorry," Charles said and immediately stilled his tapping legs. It hadn't even crossed his mind how insane he looked at the moment, grinning like a fool and practically vibrating out of his skin.

But the last thing he wanted to do was piss off Mack even more than he already seemed to be. "Hey, Mack—"

"Shhh," Mack said and held a finger up to his lips. "It's nap time."

Charles rolled his eyes. There was no way he was going to actually get any sleep on the way back, Charles had been on too many buses with Mack to believe that, but he at least seemed committed to the bit of pretending.

"What happened on the ice?" Charles asked.

Mack heaved a sigh. "Rowland, drop it," he said, cracking his eyes open to peek at him. The lights of the passing cars and streetlamps were barely enough to illuminate him, but Charles could still tell that he was tired and grumpy.

Charles tried not to take it personally— Mack was very rarely ever annoyed with anyone, after all— but it was hard not to. Mack was so… nice. So good. Having someone like that be angry with you it— well, Charles wouldn't lie, it sucked.

Not wanting to upset either one of them further than they already were, Charles sighed and leaned back into his seat. He wished he'd traded seats with Ollie and sat next to Fossy or something. At least he would be willing to talk to him the whole ride back. But it was too late now, and it would likely only make things worse by asking to switch seats and, really, he should sleep anyways, it was a long ride back and—

Mack sighed again. "I saw you had some fans out there tonight," Mack said quietly, his voice carefully light. No judgment, simply an observation.

"Uh, yeah. Edwin drove Niko and Crystal up to see the game," Charles said, which earned a nod from Mack, as if he had already guessed. Or maybe already knew.

Charles wondered if he did.

"That's fun. They have a good time?" Mack asked.

Charles thought back to all the times he'd seen Edwin cheering up in the stands. It had looked so natural on him, as if he had been doing it for years.

Charles hoped that he would keep doing it for years, no matter how unlikely that scenario was.

"I think so," Charles said. "I mean, we won. So that's always fun."

Mack nodded. "You're right. Well, I'm glad they had a good time."

Charles copied his nod, unsure what else he should do or say. It was weird to talk to Mack about Edwin for the second time that day, but not exactly unpleasant. In fact, it was sort of nice that the two halves of his life could come together so peacefully like this, especially when he doubted it would in every instance. "Yeah, me too."

He could feel Mack's eyes on him, and Charles was almost sure there was something else he wanted to say, but Mack didn't. He kept quiet and eventually turned back to the window, ready to pretend to sleep.

He sank down further into his seat, sticking his knees up on the back of Ollie's. It would only be a matter of time before he complained about it, probably in the form of turning around to smack his legs off, but it would be worth it for a bit.

Across the aisle Brad and Hunter had traded places. Should he try and ask Brad about what had happened out there? Did he even know, or had he simply joined in because Mack had started something? Charles could see it going either way, honestly.

One glance at Brad told him he'd probably be better off not asking him, however. That angry divot between his eyes was visible, even in the dark. Asking him would likely only set him off, which would in turn set off Mack, and then before Charles knew it the whole bus would be in on the issue.

Instead he sighed and pulled out his phone. Edwin would be driving, he knew, but that didn't mean he couldn't text Niko.

I cant believe you didnt tell me Edwin was coming

Her response was immediate.

He wanted to surprise you!!! And so did I!!

The idea that Edwin had not only thought about how Charles would feel about him attending his game, but known him well enough to want to surprise him made him feel as if he were on cloud nine.

Is he ok? he doesnt do well with cars

The text bubbles appeared and disappeared for a while as Niko typed out her response.

First of all, that made him sound like a dog lol but yeah, I know. But he's been doing good!!! Crystal has talked him through a lot of it and we only had to pull over a few times on the way there!!! So definitely better than I expected!!!

Guilt mixed in his stomach, even though Charles knew it wasn't actually his fault. It was not like he had asked Edwin to drive all the way there— Charles didn't think he had it in him to do that— but Edwin had still only done it for him.

The thought of Edwin needing to pull over because he was so stressed out or nervous or whatever else he might have been feeling made Charles wish he could be there for him. Maybe he should have made a case to Coach Nurse about riding back with them, even though he knew that wouldn't have gone over well. She probably would have turned her road rage on him, at that rate.

make sure hes good yeah? got a date with him tomorrow

The amount of emojis Niko sent nearly exploded Charles's phone.

I got your boytoy, don't even worry!!! Wouldn't want you to miss your date, would we???

Seeing someone else call it that, a date sent a shiver down his spine. That's what it was, even if it was because of a bet. But it was a bet Edwin had made, and had made quite clearly because he wanted to lose and Charles to win.

He chose to ignore the 'boytoy' part, for both of their benefit.

I'm going to swing by your place tomorrow before your date!!! I'll even bring coffee!!!

A peace offering if Charles had ever heard one. If he had questioned before if he and Niko were back on good terms he didn't need to now. The coffee offer was as good as gold in her mind.

see ya there

He closed his eyes and put in his earbuds. The playlist he had made for Edwin was already queued up, and while he knew that he wouldn't he able to sleep worrying about Edwin driving home, he could at least relax and enjoy all the thoughts about what might happen tomorrow.

The worries could come later.

XXX

The funny thing about bets or dates with Edwin was the fact that Charles got just as antsy before them as he did a game.

"But did he tell you what we were doing?" Charles asked. He turned to look at Niko, who was currently spread out on his spare bed as if it were her second home. Any other year, that would likely be true, but so far this year they'd been so busy it felt as if they kept missing each other.

"Nope! I am not interfering anymore," Niko said. She closed her eyes and folded her arms across her stomach, kicking her legs over the side of the bed as she did so.

Arguing that she was technically still interfering by hanging out with him while he got ready would likely get him no where, so Charles instead sighed and playfully rolled his eyes. "Not even a little hint?" he asked.

One eye popped open to look at him. "Wait, has Edwin slept in this bed?" Niko asked, suddenly sitting up. "Have you guys—" She suggestively wiggled her eyebrows at him. "you know, on this bed?"

He kicked at her dangling foot. "Oi, suddenly you're too discrete to say sex?"

Niko stuck her nose into the air, as if she were a proper princess. "A lady doesn't just say the dirty, sexy things her friend gets up to with his boyfriend. She implies it."

With a wave of his hand, Charles tried to cut that thought in half. "None of that," he said. "Edwin and I aren't dating. We're just… going on a date."

"Dates," she corrected. "I definitely think this counts as at least the second if not the third."

Trying to add them up would be useless, Charles knew, because even he didn't know what counted anymore.

"Not the point," he said, pointing at her. With one last warning look, he turned back to his closet to try and find something decent to wear.

He'd had a whole week to plan this out, he really should have used that time better. There were plenty of thrift stores around him, he should have gone and at least seen what they had.

"Do I at least get any idea on how to dress?" he asked. "Like, any hard no's?"

Niko tapped her finger to her chin as if this were something to consider. "No bathing suits," she deadpanned.

"Alright, yeah, thanks for that, I sorta figured, what with it being November and all," Charles said. Fine, he didn't need her to help him figure it out. He'd been on plenty of dates before and he'd done it then. He could do it now, seeing as how he was properly motivated and all that.

He eyed one of his dark red button downs. Was it too similar to what he'd worn on their first "date?" Was that a good thing? Would it be a nice reminder, or would it look like he didn't have enough clothes?

"What about this?" he asked, holding up a black turtle-neck.

Niko eyed it for a moment "Too boring."

Charles let out a groan of frustration. Fine, he could fix that.

He reached for his normal coat, the one with all of his pins and patches on it and pulled it out. That was less boring, right? Something with fun pops of color? He also selected his usual chain and earring to go with it and turned back to Niko for inspection.

"We should've went shopping," she said, twirling her hair around her finger. Her phone buzzed, and Charles wanted to tell her to leave it for a minute, but he didn't have time. In an instant, Niko had popped up from the bed and grabbed her half melted coffee off his desk and quickly kissed him on the cheek.

"Edwin's about to head this way, ahhh!" she said. "Brush your teeth. And change your shoes, it's cold outside you need to wear boots. Oh! And trust your gut."

Stunned, Charles watched as her swirl of activity led her to the door. "Trust my gut?" he asked, holding his arms out to his side as if that might somehow explain her statement.

Niko flashed him a quick thumbs up. "Trust it! Byeeee!"

With the click of a door she was gone, leaving Charles more confused than he had been before. Still, at least he knew that he should put on those boots he had been debating for that last half hour. That was something, he supposed.

He finished up the last of his date preparations just in time for Edwin to knock on his door.

That was new. Charles had never had a date walk over to his place before. He'd always been the one to pick them up.

But that was what this date was supposed to be about, right? Giving Edwin the chance to practice how to be the one to take someone on a date?

(He knew that if he said it out loud Edwin would protest that was not the point of this date, but it always had been in Charles's mind. Getting treated nice was a bonus, sure, but it was hardly one that mattered, right? Charles didn't need someone to do that for him, after all.)

Unable to hold back a smile, Charles opened the door and had his breath literally stolen.

Edwin fidgeted in his doorway, his hands pressed together in front of him. He jumped as the door opened, nearly dropping the bouquet of flowers in the process. "Hello," Edwin said, his voice high-pitched and nervous.

The smile could really only grow as he looked at him. His pants were dark, paired with a long, deep blue button down shirt layered over a dark undershirt. Those boots he favored so much were back, but Edwin wouldn't even be able to enjoy the height advantage they usually gave him, since Charles had also chosen to wear his boots tonight.

"You got me flowers," Charles said dumbly.

"Rule number one of a date," Edwin said. "They are supposed to pick you up. Rule number two, they are supposed to get you something nice." He handed the flowers over to Charles, an array of red flowers that somehow looked nice rather than messy.

"Good rules," Charles said, almost distracted as he looked at the vase.

"I learned from the best," Edwin said with a quick smile. "That is you, in case you do not remember."

A snort escaped before he could stop it. "Yeah, mate, the words sounded familiar," he said. He had meant it when he'd said those words to Edwin, he just hadn't figured he would actually listen to him and internalize it.

Then again, Edwin had taken notes from the internet before their first "date." He guessed he shouldn't have been surprised that he would have taken his own sort of internal notes during the date as well.

"Red is typically seen as romantic," Edwin said, nodding towards the vase. "I hope they are sufficient?"

They were gorgeous, is what they were. Charles couldn't actually remember the last time, if ever, that he had been given flowers. Possibly his mum when he was young? But it wasn't really the sort of thing his dad would have allowed. Flowers were for girls and gay boys, and Charles wasn't supposed to be either one of those things.

Then again, he also couldn't remember the last time his dad had given his mum flowers, either. In fact, he'd cut down one of the last flowering bushes she'd had because he 'didn't like the smell of them.'

"There were other options, but I wasn't sure. Red is romantic, as this is supposed to be a date, but I remember the flowers you gave me were a variety of colors," Edwin said, clearly rambling. "Perhaps I should have asked you what your favorite color was, though I thought that I knew—"

"It's red," Charles said. "Like this."

Edwin nodded, clearly stalled out.

"And the flowers are brills," he said, walking back in to set them down on his desk. Somehow it seemed to brighten the whole room, just that one small pop of color.

"Good," Edwin said. Once again he twisted his fingers in front of himself, and Charles yearned to reach out and intertwine their fingers together to stop him.

"Where's your coat, mate?" he asked, instead choosing a safer route. "Bit chilly to be going out without one, innit?"

"Oh!" Edwin said. "It is in the car."

Charles blinked at him as if he had grown a second head. "The car?"

Edwin nodded. "I am picking you up on a date. Which means I drive, yes?" he said.

Charles thought back to all of the driving he had done the day before, all for Charles's sake. How Edwin must be fed up and done with cars at this point, yet he was still willing to climb in behind the wheel to pick Charles up.

"You didn't have to do that," he said. "We could have walked. Or taken the bus or… I dunno, we could have figured something out."

Edwin raised an eyebrow. "Like we did before?" he asked.

Fair point, Charles supposed. The last time they had done this it had rained on them, and that was not something they needed with the temperatures so low. Edwin's competition was coming up, and Charles was honestly shocked he was even giving him the time of day right now, there was no way he could let him get sick.

"It is not a big deal," Edwin said. "Besides, with the way this date could go, we might need a vehicle."

What could they possibly be doing that would require a car? "Fine. But if it becomes a problem, just let me know," Charles said, though he knew Edwin was unlikely to do such a thing. That stupid Payne pride would likely win out until it was too late, even if something were to happen.

He didn't know what he would do if it did become one, all he knew was that he would figure it out.

With a rather soft roll of his eyes, Edwin waved Charles down the hall. "After you," he said, which made Charles smile.

At least the boy had manners.

Edwin's car was familiar, though he had never been inside the SUV. He'd seen it in his driveway and in the rink's parking lot from time to time, though he knew Edwin rarely ever used it. It was only when his pain was at it's worst or he needed to go a long distance, such as the hockey game the night before.

Still, it was a rather nice vehicle. A bit on the newer side than Charles was used to, with heated seats and a good radio and GPS display built in. It wasn't what Charles would have picked, but he could see why it appealed to Edwin. Solid, safe, and rather practical.

Edwin hurried around the side of the car and opened Charles's door for him. The pleased smile on his face told Charles that he had likely been keeping that on his mental 'to-do' list, and Charles couldn't lie, it did feel nice.

Edwin reached into the back seat, giving Charles an accidental chance to peek down his shirt as he did so. Those were definitely not "start of the date" thoughts.

"So, where we headed?" Charles asked. Neither Edwin nor Niko had given anything away about the date tonight, though Charles could only figure Niko's advice might have given something away if only he could figure it out.

"That is what you are about to determine," Edwin said, securing his coat.

Charles blinked as he dug into the inside pockets. "Uh, that's usually something you determine before you pick up your date," Charles said. "But it's cool! We can pick together."

Huffing, Edwin pulled out two envelopes. They were solid, sturdy card stock with a very distinctive "1" written on the front.

"This is how we are going to decide," he said, holding the two envelopes up to his face.

"What?"

Edwin smiled. "You are going to pick between these two envelopes, and then we will do whatever is inside," he said. "I realize this is a little… strange, but I thought it might be fun."

Charles looked between the two envelopes in his hands. It did seem fun, Charles thought, and he'd always liked this type of thing. A bit of a roulette on what you might get, but that was the fun of it.

Besides, he could only assume that the two options were something fun that Edwin had chosen for them to do. Which meant the pressure was off both of them to pick something, in a way.

He reached out and took the one in Edwin's left hand. Edwin nodded, encouraging him to open it.

Bella Italia

"This is that fancy Italian place downtown, innit?" Charles asked. He'd seen it countless times over the years, but he'd never actually been able to go in before.

Edwin glanced at the name before nodding. "Indeed it is."

There was no way Charles could eat there! It was expensive, and not even in the way most things were expensive to college students were. It was 'a plane ticket home' kind of expensive. A 'whole semester's worth of savings' kind of expensive.

His feelings must have been obvious on his face because Edwin was quick to reassure him. "I have reservations here and at the alternate place," he said, shaking the unselected envelope. "If you would prefer there, instead."

Somehow, Charles didn't think it would be any cheaper. Edwin's family was rich, he came from money. Of course his idea of a date would be somewhere expensive. It should have been obvious to Charles that this might be the case, and yet he'd sort of hoped Edwin would just… get it. That he wouldn't have to point out the fact that he probably couldn't afford to eat there, not if he also wanted to be able to afford more gear later in the season, a plane ride home for Christmas, presents for his friends, and everything else you needed to survive on.

"Nah, s'just," Charles said, doing his best to smile and shake his head. If he could play it off as a joke, some sort of lighthearted thing, then neither one of them had to feel bad about this. "S'kinda expensive, y'know?"

Edwin blinked. "It is no trouble," he said. "I picked the places, of course I am aware of what they would cost."

Charles nodded, still trying to figure out how to explain this to him. "Yeah, I just don't know if I have that, you know?"

He could see his breath frost the air in the car. Edwin had yet to turn it on, yet to put those seat-warmers to good use, and it seemed as if he had permanently stumped him. "Charles, why would you have to pay for anything? I invited you on this date. These locations were my idea."

Charles shrugged and resisted the urge to tell him to forget about it. "Never really been the one taken on a date before," he said. "Guess I figured I would still pay for at least part of it."

Aghast, Edwin shook his head. "That is not how dates work, according to my research," Edwin said, and Charles wasn't sure if his research was his first date with Charles or more things he had read online.

He would likely need to investigate that further though, at least to make sure Edwin wasn't getting faulty information or something. Who knew what freaks on the internet were saying.

"Whatever you say," he said. It still twinged something inside him to think about Edwin paying for something so expensive for him, but there wasn't really anything he could do about that feeling.

Edwin's eyes scanned over him, clearly searching for something. "This date is about what you want, Charles. It's important to remember that."

Right, he knew that. Or at least he remembered Edwin saying that. But there was a difference between knowing that and accepting it. It still seemed wrong to have someone be so focused on what he wanted, especially someone like Edwin, when all Charles wanted to do was make sure he was getting what he wanted.

"Italian it is," Charles said, smiling. He really did want to eat there, had passed by the place for years knowing that he likely never would. It was… nice to think about going there with Edwin now.

With a rather reassuring smile, Edwin turned to start the car. They sat there for a moment, letting the engine warm up and the heaters kick on as Edwin adjusted things like the mirrors, his seat, the steering wheel.

It seemed more like a nervous tick than actual necessity, more something he did because he was unwilling to admit that he was scared than because he needed to. There was no need to drive to the restaurant, really, Charles wanted to point out, but one glance at the envelopes had him closing his mouth. Who knew where else they might end up tonight.

Slowly, not wanting to startle him, he reached over and rested his hand on Edwin's leg. It didn't stop the jump he knew was coming, but at least Edwin seemed to relax after he realized what had happened.

"Take your time," Charles said. The last thing he wanted to do was rush him.

Not wanting to make him any more anxious than he already was, Charles turned to look out the window into the dorm parking lot. Most of the cars were gone for the evening, everyone else likely enjoying a bit of freedom before the holidays or finals really set in.

Still, he kept his hand on Edwin's leg, occasionally squeezing it to remind him that he was there, he could breathe.

A few moments later the car started up and Edwin pulled out. The ride was smooth, so controlled Charles had a hard time believing Edwin ever had any problems driving.

Then again, he knew the driving was less a problem than the riding part. He wasn't entirely certain how that worked out in his brain, but it didn't matter. Charles could keep his hand on his leg and sit in silence if that was what helped.

"You can talk," Edwin said softly. "In fact, it might be better. It is what Crystal and Niko did last night."

So, sitting in silence wasn't helpful. That was good to know.

"Do you have any plans for Christmas?" Charles asked.

Edwin seemed surprised by his train of thought. Orange and yellow streetlights passed by, coloring him in warm light as he raised an eyebrow at Charles's question, his eyes never once leaving the road. It didn't matter that they were on a slow, college only road at the moment, he was locked in.

"Not exactly," Edwin said. "My family—well, they are not really the holiday type. Nor are they the kind to let me know of any of their plans in advance."

"Are you? The holiday type, that is," Charles asked. "I know your birthday is on New Years, but what about Christmas?" Because surely his family had to be planning to see him for one of the upcoming holidays. It was up in the air if Charles would get to see his due to the cost of going home, but that wasn't a concern for Edwin's family. In fact, he was fairly certain Edwin's father was still in the States somewhere.

"I love Christmas," Edwin said, his eyes sparking up just a bit. His fingers flexed on the steering wheel, and Charles couldn't help but squeeze his leg in response. It felt nice to be able to do something like that, to touch him just because he wanted to, because it might help Edwin feel safer driving.

It's what he would have done if they were on a real date, after all. Especially their second one.

"Do you?" Charles asked. He wasn't sure why this information surprised him.

"Yes," Edwin said. "Christmas was the one time of year that my family actually agreed to, well, do family things. As I said before, my birthday falling on New Years was inconvenient in a lot of ways, so we would often times combine the two events into one." Edwin's smile was sad, and Charles wondered what he might have been remembering. "It was… nice."

"Never thought I'd hear that from a kid who had to combine his birthday with a holiday," he teased. "Usually it's all 'this holiday stole my birthday' or whatever."

"Yes, well, my parents were not guaranteed to be around for my birthday, but they would be Christmas. And if we combined my birthday with Christmas then…."

Charles nodded, tracing the logic. "Then they would be."

Edwin gave a tight, tense nod in return. It was hard to tell what was worse, this conversation or the actual driving part.

Charles tried to imagine his parents not being around for his birthday or Christmas. Even though there had been times he'd wished his dad hadn't been there, he'd still always been around. In both good ways and bad.

"What about yourself?" Edwin asked lightly. "Do you have any plans for the holidays?"

Charles let his hand tighten on Edwin's thigh for just a moment, if only to see his reaction to it. It wouldn't be enough to distract him from a conversation he started, but it was enough to distract Charles in some ways.

"Nah, not yet. My dad really wants me to come home, but he's not the one paying for it, is he?" he asked. He did everything in his power to keep his tone light, to not sound like he was complaining about his dad. It shouldn't be a bad thing that his dad wanted to see him, it shouldn't be such a terrible, gut-crushing feeling of dread to imagine going home.

He tried to imagine what it was like to be Edwin. He knew that his dad wasn't exactly a nice person, a bit controlling like a lot of rich men, but that wasn't the same as Charles's dad. Niko had reassured him of that after he'd worried he'd fucked up by leaving him alone with him the night after their first date, but dads were dads and sometimes they were fucked up.

But what did that mean for holidays? Were they quiet, solemn affairs with distant relatives and little joy? Or were they loud, rowdy things with little cousins running around under foot?

It was hard to imagine any part of the Payne family acting that way, but it was nice to pretend Edwin might have at least had something normal.

"'sides, we got some games over the break, and that makes travel tricky," Charles said, as if that might be the only reason he didn't want to go home.

Not because the memory of his dad smashing the Christmas tree with his bare hands was still fresh in his mind. The last year they'd had an actual, real tree had ended with his dad getting his hands treated for wood splinters and needles lodged in his skin from where he had shaken and snapped the tree before throwing it out onto the lawn.

Not because his mum stopped baking his favorite holiday cookies because his dad 'hated the way they smelled.'

Or because he knew that he would spend the whole time stuck in the house doing whatever his dad wanted him to do, as was expected of him because it's not like his dad could really take care of the entire home by himself, right? Someone needed to help him out from time to time, and who better than Charles when he came home?

"You have games over the break?" Edwin asked, confused.

"Mmhm," Charles said. "Just a couple after the official break starts and right before it ends. But like I said, it takes a chunk out of travel time." Christmas break was only a couple of weeks long, after all.

Downtown slowly crept up on them as Edwin navigated his way through. Expertly, if Charles did say so himself. He never would have guessed that Edwin had problems with cars if he only saw him now.

"What do you do then?" Edwin asked. "If you are unable to travel home?"

"Sometimes I stay on campus during breaks," Charles said. "Or sometimes I travel back home with Brad and Hunter when one of their parents comes to pick them up, just depends."

"You shouldn't have to be alone during breaks." Edwin frowned, his hands tightening on the steering wheel. It was the first real sign of anxiety he'd exhibited, and Charles hated it.

"Not always alone, am I?" Charles asked. "Brad and Hunter have let me tag along with them more than a few times. We even traveled to Seattle for a few days once just to have something to do."

It had been fun, far better than hanging around their small town where they used to be hometown heroes. The fact that his friends were so well loved in Port Townsend was not lost on him, but it was still so odd to be reminded of it every time they stepped out the door back home. There were countless people who claimed to miss them and their parties, people who promised to try and make it to one of their games to see them play or to one of their parties on campus next time.

Charles couldn't imagine anyone his age back home missing him that much. Sure, his old teammates were always pleased to see him, willing to give him a pat on the back and shoot a few rounds on the ice with him, but that was different.

In Seattle they had all been equal. Three boys, just barely nineteen at the time and set loose in a city that wouldn't remember them when they left.

It had been freeing. It had reminded Charles why he had originally wanted to move to the States and go to college so far away from home. Not just to play hockey, but because there was something nice about reinventing himself in an unfamiliar city.

But he couldn't say that to Edwin. There was too much attached to that, so much baggage that he wasn't sure how to word it without just… dropping it on him.

"Seattle is nice," Edwin said, somehow managing to pull Charles out of his own mind again.

"You been?"

Edwin nodded. "Crystal once ran away and 'couch surfed' as they say for a couple of weeks there. I think it rained the entire time I looked for her."

"How old was she?" he asked.

Edwin let out a thinking noise as he tightened his hands on the wheel. "Twelve? I believe it was just shy of her thirteenth birthday."

"She slept on stranger's couches at thirteen?" Charles asked, unable to keep his voice in check in his shock. He regretted it immediately the second he noticed Edwin's reaction, the way he tensed up and his breath grew harsh as he leaned just a slightest bit forward.

Right. Edwin was driving. Now was not the time for big reactions. He squeezed Edwin's leg, a silent apology, as he hoped that he understood what he was apologizing for.

"It was only for a couple of weeks," Edwin said, his voice still slightly strained. "She eventually agreed to come back once I found her."

Charles had a feeling that it was a lot harder to convince Crystal to come home than Edwin was making it sound, but he wasn't going to push. Hypocritical really to demand Edwin to talk about it when he was hiding his own truths about the way he grew up.

"We're here," Edwin said, before Charles could figure out what he should say.

Bella Italia was two floors tall, with trellises full of vines winding up the side of the building, despite the autumn weather plaguing them. A fountain burbled to the side of the building, though it was only a matter of days before they would turn it off, Charles was sure. A patio area set off to the side, a few stubborn diners seated around outdoor fires and warming stations while soft, classical music played overhead.

The valet opened Charles and Edwin's doors, and Charles couldn't help but stare at the restaurant as Edwin spoke with them. The restaurant was fancy. Far more fancy than any place Charles had ever eaten at before. Faintly, he couldn't help but be thankful he'd gone for his plain black sweater, because if he had gone with what he usually wore on dates he was sure he would have been turned away at the door.

The buttons and patches on his coat did slightly bring down the 'classy' aspect of it, but he didn't think it would be enough to turn him away.

Bitter wind snaked around them, ruffling the hair he had perfectly tousled into place. It burned as it kicked up leaves and debris around them, catching one of the fancy glass and gold doors as a worker held it open for them to go inside.

"Payne," Edwin said to the hostess at the stand. Unlike the first date they'd had together, she seemed to be ready for him.

"Right this way, sir," she said. She grabbed two thick, expensive looking menus and led them through the restaurant until they reached a small, private table in the corner. Warm candlelight from an actual candle lit up the center of it, casting a rather cozy, romantic vibe over the table.

"And here is our wine menu," she said, sliding it onto the table. Edwin smiled at her, that polite, distant sort that he gave people all the time. Nothing like the one Charles had grown so familiar with.

He moved the menu over to Charles as she walked away. "Feel free to order whatever you like," he said.

Charles considered it for a moment. "What about you?" he asked.

"Well, seeing as how I am underaged and driving, I figured it would be in everyone's best interest if I didn't."

Good point, Charles supposed. He scooted the menu to the side, away from both of them. While drinking a fancy, expensive wine might have been fun, it would have only been so if Edwin was doing it with him. Otherwise, he ran the risk of just making an ass out of himself when he was trying desperately to do a good job on this date.

He might not have been the one to plan it, but that didn't mean he couldn't still treat Edwin right. And part of that would be giving him a chance to be the perfect date 'host.'

Charles smiled at Edwin as he opened his menu. There were so many different things listed there, all with rich, proper Italian names. Some of them Charles could recognize, or at least make an educated guess at based on his late night cooking show watching with Niko, while others remained firmly a mystery.

"Ah! Mr. Payne, what a pleasure," a man said as he quickly approached their table.

Edwin winced slightly, but otherwise managed to keep his posture secure and his smile in place.

"Mr. Russo," Edwin said, nodding his head. "How nice to see you."

The man didn't even glance at Charles. If anything, he seemed intent on ignoring him entirely by turning his back to him while he spoke to Edwin.

"Will your father be joining you?" he asked.

"No," Edwin answered, a bit too quickly for Charles's liking. "I am here with my— my friend, Charles." He held a hand out towards Charles, as if Mr. Russo could somehow have missed him sitting there.

Mr. Russo turned a rather critical eye towards Charles. He wasn't a tall man, rather an average height, but while they were seated at the table he seemed like a giant. His lips were pressed into a thin line as he 'smiled' at Charles, clearly less than impressed with Edwin's choice of company for the evening.

"Ah," he said. "Yes. Well. I shall let you get back to your dinner." He turned away from Charles to look back at Edwin. "If you need anything, let me know. You only have to ask for it." With a rather firm clap on Edwin's shoulder he moved on, to the next table.

Neither one of them pointed out that Edwin had called him his friend, not his date. It sent snakes writhing in Charles's gut, a sort of unsettled feeling that he hated. Was Edwin embarrassed by him? Or did he simply not want to have to explain all of this to Mr. Russo. And who was Mr. Russo anyways?

As if he could read his mind, Edwin answered. "Mr. Russo owns the restaurant," he said. "My father has been eating here for years, though I must admit that I did not think he would be here."

Charles nodded and stared back at the menu. That answered his questions, truly. He didn't need to ask Edwin about the 'friend' term. They were friends, after all. Did it really make a difference if he differentiated between his 'date' and his 'friend'?

Not really. Even if it did sting.

He chewed on his lip as he lifted the menu up higher, giving him a chance to collect himself. There was no way he was going to get emotional in the middle of this nice restaurant, especially not now that he knew Edwin's dad was friends with the owner.

"I'm sorry," Edwin said. His voice was low, quiet. Almost impossible to hear over the music playing overhead. "I didn't— Should we have gone somewhere else? I truly did not think he would be here."

Charles sighed and lowered his menu. The issue wasn't with Mr. Russo, though he wasn't sure how to explain what the issue was. Or if it even was an issue.

This date was based on a bet, just the same as a first. Had he referred to Edwin as his date back then? Or had he insisted on calling him his friend? Did it matter since this was a whole new bet, one that Edwin had masterminded?

"It was the friend comment, wasn't it?" Edwin asked. Sometimes he truly was too perceptive for his own good. "I'm sorry, Charles. I— it's only that you are my friend, and I do not have many of those. And while tonight you are also my date, I did not want to have Mr. Russo assume certain things if we were to ever come back here in the future."

Charles blinked. "It's fine, mate," he said. And it was fine, even if Charles originally had felt a bit slighted by it. It hadn't been so serious that Edwin needed to twist his fingers together like he was doing or look at him with those big, nervous green eyes.

Besides, Edwin was thinking about the future, another time where they came back here. Maybe as another date or maybe just as friends, but definitely where they were together. That had to count as some sort of bonus, right?

Still, Edwin looked uncertain. "It is okay if it was… not fine," Edwin said. "Tell me what you would like me to call you tonight, and I will. That is also part of a date, is it not?"

Charles was fairly certain the whole point of a date was that you didn't have to question if you were on a date with a 'friend' or something more, but he wouldn't point that out. Doing so would likely only confuse him more.

"I think I'd like to be your date," he said, hesitantly. "That doesn't mean I'm not your friend, I mean, plenty of people do start off friends, you know."

Did Edwin know?

"Oh," Edwin said, nodding, which didn't actually tell Charles either way. "I see. Well, then, from here on out you will be my date tonight. If that's alright?"

It was strange to see Edwin, who was usually so headstrong and stubborn about most things be… self conscious? Aware of how little he knew about all of this?

It was even stranger that he was looking towards Charles to reassure him.

The idea that one day Edwin might need these reassurances from someone else, someone who wasn't Charles sent a spike of pain through him. What if they weren't as patient, weren't as understanding? Charles had never really considered himself to be either one of those things before, but for Edwin? It seemed only natural.

The idea that he didn't want to just be Edwin's date tonight, but every night, crossed his mind, but he held it back. That was getting ahead of himself, and besides, how did someone even start that conversation? 'Hey, by the way mate, I wanna spend the rest of my life with you,' sounded both too casual and too serious for his taste.

Instead, he fell back on what always seemed to work for him. A joke.

"Wow, your date on a date, who would have guessed it," Charles teased.

Thankfully, Edwin only rolled his eyes in return.

Their waiter came along not too long after, filling up their water glasses and offering to take their orders. Neither one of them had so much as really glanced at the menu, but Edwin was familiar enough with it, and Charles already knew what he wanted.

"Spaghetti?" Edwin asked, as if it was a strange thing to order at an Italian restaurant.

"Yeah, I love spaghetti. And if an Italian place can't even get that right, then they're not really worth anything else." He flashed a quick smile to their waiter. "Sorry."

Edwin seemed to consider this before ordering the same thing.

"Bit like Lady and the Tramp, innit?" Charles asked, munching on the bread they'd had brought to them.

"Excuse me?" Edwin said, his eye brows furrowed.

"The Disney movie. Lady and the Tramp? They share spaghetti and meatballs and kiss over a noodle?" he asked. "You never watched Lady and the Tramp?"

"No. Why on Earth would they call someone a tramp in a Disney movie?" Edwin asked, bewildered.

"Well, he's a dog, so," Charles said and shrugged.

This only seemed to increase Edwin's confusion. "Dogs kissing over spaghetti?" he asked.

"It's a popular bit," Charles said. "You really don't know it?"

"I did not watch many cartoons growing up," Edwin said, and Charles couldn't help but feel bad for the younger version of him.

"Well, if you ever wanna try it out, tonight's the night," Charles said, lightly tapping his piece of bread against Edwin's.

A crease formed between his brows. "To share a spaghetti noodle or kiss?"

Charles nearly choked on his bread. "Well, uh, either, I guess."

Edwin glanced down at their food as it arrived. "Let's leave food out of that equation," he said.

Which meant that he likely had been planning on kissing. Or at least wasn't opposed to it. And wasn't that fun and interesting?

Garlic breath wasn't exactly the best breath to have when kissing, but at least they would both have it.

Spaghetti had definitely been the right call on the meal, garlic be damned. Everything about it was perfect, from the flavor to the sauce to the texture of the noodles. Charles was sure he hadn't had a better plate since he left home.

It took everything in him to not inhale it at top speed. Edwin was far slower, picking at parts of his meal as he went until he had nearly ate half of his plate in the same time it taken Charles to consume all of his.

"Something wrong?" Charles asked, cutting off whatever conversation they had been having.

Edwin shook his head. "No, of course not." Then, because he must have been able to tell Charles either didn't believe him or was worried anyways, he added on. "With competition so close I…"

Right. He was picky about things like that. "No prob, then," Charles said. In fact, he was surprised that he had even opted for anything other than the kinds of meals he usually consumed when training. Salads, chicken and rice, things of that nature were more in line with what he typically ate. "'s long as you're not hungry, still."

"Definitely not," Edwin said, shaking his head.

It didn't take long for them to get the check after that, though Charles did note Mr. Russo's eyes on them as they were leaving. He wondered if Edwin's dad would hear about them being out together, or if he'd even care enough to remember to tell him the next time he saw him.

Either way, it didn't matter to Charles.

Tentatively, Edwin slid his hand into Charles's as they waited for the valet to pull his car around. It was so gentle, so hesitant, that it could have been mistaken for a bump against him.

But Charles knew better than to let him get away. He grabbed onto Edwin's hand and squeezed, hoping that it would be enough to keep it there. If Edwin wanted to let go that was fine, but he wanted him to at least know that Charles wanted his hand, first.

A small smile played at the corner of Edwin's lips, not daring to actually fully form. His free hand reached into his coat pocket and pulled out two more envelopes, these labeled with a large "2" on the front of them.

"Time for your next selection," Edwin said as he handed them over to him.

Charles grabbed them with his free hand, weighing them. "Any hint?"

Edwin gave him a rather short look. Right, so there would be no hint. Though he really could have guessed that, he supposed.

Nothing on the outside gave away what might be tucked away inside, just like the first two. He tried to imagine what Edwin might have planned for a follow up to their dinner date, but it was almost impossible.

He was sure he would love it, if dinner was anything to go by.

On a whim, he made his selection. Regrettably, he pulled his hand free from Edwin's to tear it open.

Movie

He turned it towards Edwin. "Looks like we're going to the movies," he said, grinning. "A classic date, good job."

The valet pulled Edwin's vehicle back around, and once again Edwin moved to open Charles's door first.

"What a gentleman," Charles said, though there was more truth to that sentence then he cared to admit. Edwin really was what he thought of when he thought about the perfect gentleman. Handsome, kind, and obviously willing to act perfectly respectable on a date.

Charles tried to remember. Had he done these things for Edwin on their date? Then again, they'd been eating fried, greasy food at a bar, not fine dining downtown.

"Only the best for you," Edwin said, and Charles really did want to ask him where he learned such perfect little one liners that managed to turn his brain to mush, except, well… His brain had been turned to mush.

Edwin once again did his ritual of checking every mirror, every adjustment possible, every sort of position he could possibly be in before he allowed them to pull out. It gave Charles a chance to look at him freely without worrying about if he was being watched in return.

Charles had never much imagined himself in the passenger seat of a vehicle, but he could admit that it had it's perks. Getting to put his hand on Edwin's leg, appreciating the view while he drove, all of it was pretty aces.

Edwin pulled out, heading down the road opposite any movie theater Charles knew about.

"Theater's that way, innit?" Charles asked, hooking his thumb over his shoulder. It was where he and Niko had spent their fair share of freshmen nights, pretending they shouldn't have been studying or tutoring.

Edwin nodded as he switched lanes, carefully signaling the entire time. "Yes, but we aren't going there," he said.

They were the only theaters Charles knew about, but he didn't say that. He had a feeling that Edwin wouldn't tell him where exactly they were going anyways, figuring that the clue on the envelope had been enough.

The ride to their next destination was relatively short, just a few blocks over, really. They pulled up out in front of what looked like a rather old-fashioned apartment building and parked.

Charles glanced around. It was obviously a neighborhood of some kind, though not one he was familiar with. "This like one of those speak-easy type of things?" he asked. "One where you gotta know the code to get in?"

Edwin smiled that sort of smug smile. "Something like that."

He climbed out of the car and moved around to the other side to open Charles's door before Charles had even fully unbuckled. He offered him a hand, helping him down onto the curb as if it were something he actually needed.

Charles now understood why girls always liked when he did it. He made a mental note to do it more to Edwin the next chance he got.

The neighborhood was quietly busy, the sort of activity that came and went from a populated neighborhood on a weekend night. A few people walked up and down the street, some tucked up against each other for warmth while others scurried after each other, racing to see who would get home first.

Edwin walked up to steps to one of the apartment buildings and buzzed in. Curiosity nearly overwhelmed Charles as he stepped up next to him.

"Who is it?" an older, crackly voice said.

"Edwin Payne," Edwin said. "I rented the—"

Before Edwin could even finish his sentence the door buzzed open. "Go on up."

He glanced at Charles over his shoulder, flashing a quick smile as he did so. "After you," he instructed again, holding open the door for Charles.

The entry way to the building was warm, if a little boring. Edwin paid no mind to it as he directed Charles to head for the stairwell to their left.

"The lift is out," Edwin said regrettably. "So we'll have to take the stairs."

The stairwell was cold, and it only got colder the higher they climbed. There was no heating in the stairwell, nothing to warm them other than their own exertions as they walked up the stairs.

"Where are we going?" Charles asked, not for the first time.

Edwin smiled over his shoulder. "You will see," he said, as if he had exhibited the patience of a saint. And perhaps he had. He had certainly managed to keep all of this business about envelopes a secret from Charles until now.

Huffing, he hurried up until he was on the same step as Edwin. "Are you sure this is okay?" he asked. At Edwin's faintly confused look he gestured down to his leg.

"It is fine, Charles," Edwin said, just a bit annoyed. At least there was no actual anger to it, just the common annoyance that came when he felt like Charles was overly worrying. "A few stairs are hardly enough to bother it."

Charles leaned over the railing, staring down, down, down towards the bottom of the stairs. "This is more than a few, mate," he said. "Don't think I've climbed this many stairs since we pissed off our last coach and he made us run bleaches for an hour."

Edwin smiled with a slight wince. "Yes, well, it is unfortunate the lift was broken. Had I known that I might have planned differently."

Charles looked at the pocket he knew housed the envelopes Edwin had stashed away for tonight. How many more were there? Surely there couldn't be that many, right?

"I mean, we always could," Charles said. It's not like it was too late. Though he would admit that he would be sad to have missed whatever was worth climbing all of these stairs for.

"No, no." Edwin shook his head and puffed out his cheeks like an annoyed squirrel. "This was what we picked, we have to do it now."

Charles sighed as Edwin continued on up the stairs. It wasn't like they really had much further to go now.

Edwin stopped at the top, his hand on the door handle to the roof access. Both of them were out of breath and sweaty, their nice date outfits damp under their coats despite the rather cold temperature of the stairwell.

"Ready?" Edwin asked.

Charles nodded, though he wasn't really sure that he was. It was not like he had any clue what was on the other side of the door, after all.

With a grunt, Edwin pushed open the heavy metal door, somehow remembering to prop it open, just in case it auto-locked. Charles could kiss him for thinking ahead, as he knew the type of luck they'd had before when it came to dates.

Edwin waved him through, like a gentleman escorting their date to a ball. Charles smiled, because the role really did suit Edwin more and more despite the fact that Charles wished he was doing it for Edwin. He wanted to open doors for him, to help him down from the car, to hold his hand out and help him over curbs.

Still, he couldn't deny that it was sort of nice to have it done to him for a change.

The roof was surprisingly clean, unlike a lot of rooftops he'd been on in the city. Sparkling fairy lights twinkled around, so many that it lit up the entire rooftop in soft, yellow light. It reminded Charles of the lights Edwin had kissed him under at the bar, the lights from the candles at dinner, all of them leaving him warm and fuzzy despite the cold air.

In the center of the roof was a greenhouse. Lights lined the inside of it as well, plus some sort of tarp that he couldn't truly see through.

Edwin walked over, his hands clasped behind his back in a rather proud fashion. "Do you like it?" Edwin asked. Despite his rather proud stance, he seemed to be nervous, as if he thought Charles might laugh at him or whatever this was.

"Don't really know what it is, do I?" Charles asked. He turned slowly on his heels as if a full spin might help to show him what he was missing.

"Ah, yes, that's right," Edwin said. He moved past him and walked over to the greenhouse. He opened the door, and gestured for Charles to step inside.

The air was warm and humid, his shirt sticking even further to his skin under his coat. He paused when he realized it wasn't a tarp hung up inside, but a projector screen, complete with a movie already loaded up.

The scent of warm, buttered popcorn filled his nose, and Charles realized there was a small personal sized popcorn maker placed before a soft pile of pillows, blankets, and what looked like outdoor furniture cushions.

It was a movie theater. A personal sized, private movie theater just for them up on this rooftop.

He turned around, slack jawed. Edwin hovered at the door, his fists pressed together as he waited for Charles's reaction.

"What is all this?" Charles asked.

"You have expressed multiple times how you enjoy movies," Edwin said, once again nervous. "I had Niko do the honors of helping me pick out an assortment of films, ones that she assured me you would enjoy, and well—" He waved his hand at everything else.

"Yeah, but how did you get this set up?" Charles asked. "You didn't even know which one I would pick."

Edwin gave him a small shrug. It was almost self conscious, though Charles couldn't figure out what would possibly make him feel that way. All of this was… It was so thoughtful, so romantic. So much care had gone into it, and suddenly Charles wondered if his own first date with Edwin even really counted for anything compared to that.

"This is a service someone actually offers, though I did have to modify it a bit," Edwin said. He gestured to the other snacks lying on the ground, all Charles's favorite candies and sweets, things he recognized from the late night study sessions with Edwin.

"Well, whoever thought it up is a genius," Charles said. "Always wished I had a roof like this to do something fun with." There were people he knew both back home and here in the city that did, who hosted parties and dinners and pleasant evenings together during the summer months and nice places to smoke and cuddle together during the colder ones.

He stepped closer to Edwin, the urge to wrap his arms around him nearly so overwhelming, but he knew that he couldn't do that. Not now, at least. It seemed… odd, for some reason, even though he thought Edwin might not mind. If this were a real date he wouldn't have hesitated to do so, but for some reason— because it was Edwin— he paused.

"It is quite nice," Edwin said. "Here." He waved his hand down to the pallet that had rather intricately been arranged for them to lay down on.

Charles took off his coat and laid it down next to him. There was no need for it up here, not with the humidity of some of the plants keeping them plenty warm. He rolled up the sleeves of his sweater, and watched with hungry eyes as Edwin did the same next to him.

He was dainty, prim and proper and completely in control as he moved around the space. It seemed wrong that someone could make collapsing down on a fort of blankets graceful, but he supposed if anyone could it would be Edwin.

Edwin handed him the small remote that went to the projector. "Feel free to select whatever you like."

There were a good share of movies listed. A lot of them, he noted, were rom-coms, something that while yes, Charles did enjoy, he couldn't help but feel as though was Niko's own way of interfering without actually doing so anymore.

Randomly, he clicked on one of them, happy to see he at least had seen it before. 10 Things I Hate About You was for sure a classic, one that he and Niko had seen on multiple occasions.

Awkwardly, they settled into the bed of pillows and blankets. Charles wasn't sure what to do, should he start off with Edwin close by? Should he do the smooth thing of putting his arm around him during the movie, or was that so high school?

Or should he wait and let Edwin make the first move. This was supposed to be his date, after all. Then again, Edwin had made some of the first moves on the date Charles had taken him on. Why couldn't Charles do the same?

None of these thoughts seemed to cross Edwin's mind as he wiggled in next to Charles. Perfectly, as if his arm always belonged there, Charles wrapped his arm around his shoulders, hoping that his deodorant was working well as he did so.

He tried not to focus on Edwin laying out next to him, the way every shift seemed to bring them closer together. But it was impossible, and by a third of the way into the movie, Charles had stopped caring and instead was running his hand through the hair on the base of Edwin's skull, the soft strands falling between his fingers until the waves Charles liked so much were obvious again.

He wondered why Edwin ever insisted on slicking his hair down when it could look like this.

Edwin leaned further into him, the long press of his body warm against his side. It would probably take very little time for it to become too much, far too hot and close for either one of them to stay like that for long, but for now it was perfect.

Edwin lifted some popcorn up to Charles's mouth, and he couldn't help but smile as he allowed Edwin to feed it to him. It was exactly the type of behavior he got absolutely sick of from other couples, all that touching and cuddling and cutesy little gestures, but with Edwin Charles couldn't get enough. He suddenly wished he had selected a longer movie, something that would keep them there all evening.

"Here," Charles said and reached over to his side for a drink. He held it out to Edwin, helping him catch the straw so he could take a sip.

Absolutely bloody disgusting how cute it was.

The movie played out on the screen, sweet and funny and everything Charles had always loved about it. Sure, he would have denied it to a lot of boys growing up, but he had always been a sucker for a rom-com.

"I like this one," Edwin said. "Did you know it was based on a Shakespeare play?"

Charles grinned as he settled down further next to Edwin. "Nah, but I'm not surprised you knew that," he said. "So go on, tell me about it."

Edwin shrugged, the motion lifting his arm a bit. "There is not a lot to tell. A lot of movies and books are based on Shakespeare plays; I just thought it was a fun fact."

Charles nodded. "Just like The Lion King."

Edwin turned his head to look at him. "What?"

"Ooh, looks like something I knew that you didn't," he said.

Edwin rolled his eyes. "I have not seen the movie," Edwin said. "So I will have to take your word for it."

Charles shook his head. "Another Disney movie you haven't seen."

Edwin groaned as he leaned his head back against Charles's arm. The urge to suggest it for another movie night was strong, but Charles figured they should take things one at a time. There would be other times to suggest such a thing.

"She reminds me of you," Charles said, nodding towards Kat on the screen.

Edwin blinked. For a moment, Charles worried than he had fucked up, that comparing Edwin to the female main character would be insulting to him or something, but he quickly put that thought to rest with Edwin's next words.

"Is that because you wish to be Heath Ledger?" he said, smiling. "Charming, a bit of a bad boy?"

Charles could practically feel his own ego inflate at the idea of anyone thinking of him as a 'bad boy.'

"Or is it because you think I secretly harbor a desire to join a band? Or write secret Shakespeare inspired poetry about you?" he teased.

"Oi, spoil the ending, why don't you?" Charles teased back. "You mean you don't write secret poetry about me when I'm not around?"

At some point in time Charles had slipped down the pallet, ot longer using the back of it as a couch like he should, and instead was laying down and staring at the screen with Edwin next to him. It was comfortable, normal, as if this was something they did all the time.

He could imagine it so easily. He and Edwin spread out on a bed, watching movies together, eating snacks and just… existing. All he wanted was that closeness that came from knowing each other so well and knowing what the other wanted and needed from them.

Sure, they did things similar to this all the time, but there was something different about actually dating and doing it. Knowing that if he wanted to, he could lean over and kiss the top of Edwin's head, could pull him in as close as he wanted and he wouldn't run.

He wanted to do that now, but that old fear reared it's head. What if Edwin didn't want that? It would be so easy if he could just… read his mind.

"Poetry was never my strong suit," Edwin said. "I adore it, but actually writing it is a completely different matter."

Charles was the exact opposite. He'd never much cared for it, but ever since meeting Edwin it seemed like the easiest thing in the world. Comparing his eyes to stars and fresh fields of grass, the way his body moved to waves and wind and willow trees…

"Can't be that hard, right?" Charles asked, leaning in. "If you're properly motivated." And God, had Charles never been more motivated.

Edwin shook his head, before turning back to the screen. It was a good movie, of course, but it really did leave Charles's mind space to wander.

They passed candy and popcorn back and forth between each other, Edwin usually feeding more of it to Charles than the other way around. It would seem Edwin's sweet tooth did not extend to fruity, gummy candies like it did sugary coffees and other such things. Or perhaps he was still thinking of his competitions and holding back.

By the time the movie ended, Charles still hadn't gathered up the courage to do more than hold Edwin against him or wrap his arm around his shoulders. He should have kissed him, should have pressed his lips against his temple at least once…

As the credits rolled Edwin sat up, stretching his arms above his head. His shirt lifted at the bottom, just enough to give him a glimpse of his rather toned back, and Charles had to quickly look away.

But why? They were on a date, shouldn't he be allowed to look? Encouraged even?

Quickly, he looked back, but Edwin had already moved on. He tossed the blanket off of his lap as he moved towards his jacket and quickly pulled out two more envelopes.

"What, just the one movie?" Charles asked.

Edwin froze, glancing down at the envelopes in his hand. "I mean… well, I suppose we could watch another one. If that is what you want to do." The envelopes were set aside as he started to climb back under the blanket with Charles. "This night is about what you want to do, after all, Charles."

Without missing a beat, Charles leaned over Edwin and snatched the envelopes up from his coat. There were only two of them left, both of them labeled with a large "3" on them to signify when they were supposed to be offered during the date.

Charles tried to imagine Edwin planning this all out, the dates, the locations, even drawing on the envelopes. He could tell Niko must have been involved in some way, as that definitely looked like some of her markers, but it could only be Edwin's actual handwriting. The loopy, sometimes broken up cursive was more than telling.

Raising an eyebrow, he silently waited for Edwin to give him the all clear to open one of them.

Cake

"Cake?" Charles asked.

"Ooh," Edwin said, turning the letter around to him to make sure he understood Charles. "That is a good one."

"We gettin' dessert?" he asked.

Edwin nodded. "There is a place around here that apparently makes a delicious pina colda cake," he said. "Your favorite, correct?"

Charles felt his heart speed up once more. "Do you have, like, a notebook full of information about me?" he asked. Because really, how was Edwin able to just… remember this stuff? He thought he had a decent amount of knowledge about Edwin saved up, but here he was, proving that Edwin had also been doing his own sort of research.

Edwin ducked his head, the loose waves now falling further into his face. "I might have been making notes. About some things." He held his finger up, as if he were asking Charles to hold onto that thought. "But not in a…. creepy way."

Creepy and Edwin didn't belong in the same sentence. He was pretty sure Edwin couldn't be creepy if he tried, so there was no need for him to even specify such a thing. Thoughtful was closer to the word Charles would use, or maybe even caring. Considerate?

Edwin had kept track of so many things he thought Charles would like. Favorite color, cake flavor, the way he missed movies, his after game tradition of pizza… It was… a lot. In a good way, of course, but Charles couldn't remember anyone ever going out of his way like this before.

He wondered if his own mental folder about Edwin could stand up to Edwin's notes on him.

Wind knocked against the greenhouse, reminding Charles of where they were. In a city the two of them currently called home, on a stranger's roof watching rom-coms on a projector. If you had told Charles a year ago what he would be doing then, he might have believed you. Might, being the keyword.

But if you had told him how much he would love the guy sitting across from him while he did it, how he was already planning on how to pay him back for this date night, well… Charles was almost certain he wouldn't believe it.

Love. He should say it, tell Edwin how much he loved him.

"It's not creepy," Charles said, laughing. "It's sweet."

An expression close to a grimace went across Edwin's face. "Well, no one has ever accused me of being that before," he said.

Charles playfully shoved him back down into the pillows. "Oi, come off it. You're plenty sweet."

Big green eyes stared up at Charles, the warm lights around the rooftop made his eyes shine, his smile seem bigger. Or maybe it just was. Maybe Edwin was happier than when he met him months ago.

If that was true, Charles would count that as the biggest win of his life.

"So," Charles said, shaking himself out of his thoughts. "Cake?"

XXX

To Charles's surprise, rather than another fancy restaurant for cake, Edwin took him to a rather hole in the wall place that Charles was almost sure he had never seen before. The windows were so tinted it was hard to tell if the place was even open, but once Edwin pulled the door open the world exploded into colors and smells and the sound of boisterous customers chatting and dining on fancy looking desserts.

A display counter lined the entire cash register area, filled with treats of all kinds. Edwin waited patiently as Charles looked at all of them, his mouth watering as he went.

"There are some seriously good looking treats in there, mate," Charles said. On impulse he reached over and grabbed Edwin's hand to pull him closer so he could look, too.

He didn't let go, even once Edwin bent down to look at them.

Eventually, they settled on a rather large slice of pina colda cake for them to split, despite Edwin again not appreciating his Lady and the Tramp joke.

"I don't even know how you would do that with cake," Edwin said.

"Where there's a will, there's a way," Charles wagered.

"Are you trying to bet on that?" Edwin asked. He led them over to a small, empty table, and Charles was once again struck by the fact that he could hold Edwin's hand the entire time.

"Nah," Charles said. "I think I got better things to bet on."

Edwin raised an eyebrow at him, but didn't ask.

Charles leaned over the table, his shirt threatening to dip into the cake between them. "So what gave you this idea," Charles asked. He'd held off asking the whole date, but now that they were nearing the end he felt as if he had to. "The envelopes, the movie, all of it."

Edwin cleared his throat and adjusted his shirt as if it had somehow ended up out of place while they were sitting there. "I told you on our first bet that I did my research," Edwin said. "Popular date topics, date ideas, outfits. Really, there are a plethora of websites if you put your mind to it."

So how long had Edwin been planning this night? Since their first "bet date" or later on? Maybe it was a more recent development, something he'd only planned after he made this bet in the first place.

"Well, cheers to them," Charles said, clinking his fork against Edwin's.

"So this night has been… acceptable?" Edwin asked. His fingers twirled the fork around nervously, dumping the piece of cake he had secured back onto the plate. "Overall a successful 'date'?" He nearly flung his fork in an effort to put air quotes around the word 'date.'

He gave him a quick smile, one he seemed incapable of holding back around Edwin. "Yeah, mate. It was. What makes you think otherwise?"

The fork was quickly abandoned as Edwin wiped his hands on his leg, as if he needed to brush away sweat rather than cake. "It is just— well, you see, your date was so much more… exciting. We ran through the rain in the city and played pool and drank in a bar, and tonight all we did was eat dinner and watch a movie. The same thing we do most nights."

It sounded so unfair when Edwin phrased it that way. "You know that that just means we went to the bar and got wasted, right? That's what you're comparing this to?"

"It is the only thing I have to compare it to, Charles!" Edwin said, just this side of whiny.

That was true, Charles supposed, but he still had figured Edwin could see the difference between the two nights. "Mate, you took me to one of the nicest restaurants in town, booked out an entire romantic rooftop movie experience, and bought me the nicest piece of cake I think I've ever had in my life. This is the best date I have ever had."

Sparkles danced in Edwin's eyes as they met his. "Truly?" Edwin asked.

It was like a slap in the chest, something strong enough to take his breath away as he looked at him. It was entirely true, this was the best date Charles had ever been on, but the way Edwin was looking at him, as if this simple, stated truth was enough to renew his faith in not only himself but in his ideas, it was enough to make Charles want to cry. Or pull Edwin in for a hug. Or kiss, whatever he would be willing to do.

"Edwin, the date I took you on was a shit show. We couldn't get into the restaurant I booked, we didn't get to look at the stars at the museum, and you had to eat bar nachos and we drank so much we threw up. This was proper romantic," he reassured.

Edwin's leg reached out under the table, gently bumping his leg against his. "It is hardly a competition, Charles. I quite liked our first bet. It certainly made for an interesting first date experience."

Charles would always be grateful for that. The idea that Edwin actually enjoyed their date together, despite the setbacks, threatened to send his heart racing again. As did the fact that Edwin cared so much about whether or not Charles enjoyed this date.

"There is one more thing, however," Edwin said, and pulled two more envelopes from his coat.

These were unnumbered.

Edwin held them out to him, just like he had every one before. "I was uncertain if we would make it this far into the evening," he said, a sheepish look on his face.

"What, you thought you'd have dumped me by now?" Charles asked.

Edwin shook his head. "No, but I— well, I wondered if you might have been bored of me by now and wished to call it a night."

Charles grabbed Edwin's hands and slowly lowered the envelopes to the table. He could decide between these in a moment, once he was sure Edwin understood him.

"I'd never get bored of you, mate," Charles said in a tone he found almost too sincere. It was only a matter of time before Edwin grew tired of the sickly sweet tone he was using with him, unable to hold back how much he liked everything about him.

Edwin's eyes met his, that faint shine of something there that had Charles questioning everything he had ever known about what love looked like. This wasn't the looks he'd exchanged with dates before, or even the look he'd seen on his own parents' faces. This was real, it was expressive…

It felt so right it almost hurt.

He wondered what his own face looked like. Did his eyes shine the same way? Could Edwin tell how far gone he was from one look alone?

He was scared to know. He wanted— no needed— to know. But there was no normal way to ask him that, and Charles wasn't going to make this into a bigger thing than it needed to be. He wanted to keep the light and happy vibes of the night and asking Edwin if he looked in love with him would not do that.

"Right," Edwin said, quickly ducking his head away. "You have one final choice to make." He nodded towards the envelopes Charles had set on the table.

It felt like a big choice, far more important than any other that night. He knew it was silly; he'd made so many choices that night and none of them had felt particularly "important" before now, but this one did.

Inhaling, Charles let his hand hover over both of them before finally settling down on one of them. He glanced at Edwin to see his reaction, but he gave nothing away. Likely because even he didn't know which choice was which, but it still had Charles second guessing his choice.

"This one," Charles said, switching envelopes at the last moment.

Edwin nodded and waited for him to open it up.

Star Gazing

Charles flipped it around. "It says star gazing," he said, making sure Edwin could see it.

Edwin grinned. "Star gazing it is then."

XXX

Charles almost hated to climb out of Edwin's SUV once they reached the park. The heaters were cranked, blowing away any and all cold air that threatened to leak into the car.

But Edwin looked excited. And if Edwin was excited then Charles was excited.

Charles shuffled his feet against the gravel lot, eyeing the empty spaces around them. "Bit late to go to the park, innit?" Charles asked.

Edwin popped the very back of the SUV open to reveal a couple of blankets he must have stashed away in there for that night. Without even waiting for Edwin to ask, Charles bent forward to grab them from the trunk and tucked them under his arms.

"It is a public park, Charles," Edwin said. "Besides, it is the only place other than the museum that offers even the minimal amount of light pollution to see the stars well enough."

It sounded as if Edwin had done his research. "Done a lot of star gazing out here, have you?"

"On the contrary, I have never been star gazing before," Edwin said.

Charles felt his brows raise. "Never?"

"No. Not anything more than a passing glance up at the sky," Edwin said. "But I remembered that you wanted to go see the stars at the museum, and while this isn't exactly that I figured it might be close enough."

The path Edwin took them down was long and winding, a nice walking trail away from the parking lot. Briefly, Charles worried about the two of them roaming through a city park at night alone, but he figured that he'd be more than enough to scare anyone away if they approached.

"That was for you, mate," Charles said. "Seen you reading that Astrology or star book or whatever and thought you might like to see them."

Edwin paused, his feet slipping on the gravel path as he did so. "I have never read a book about astrology, Charles, why on Earth would I?" he asked.

Charles shrugged, hoisting the blankets up further. He wanted to reach out and hold Edwin's hand, to make sure it stayed warm in the cold and bring him closer. "Dunno, but you did. I saw it. Or, at least, it was a book about stars or planets or, I dunno. But I saw it."

Edwin tilted his head to the side, clearly trying to remember. "Do you mean Monty's book?" Edwin asked.

Monty. Why was that name familiar?

"If that's the bloke that gave you the book then I guess," he said.

Edwin let out a snort so strong it nearly turned into a full laugh right then and there. "That was not something I would have chosen to read," he said. "It was merely a trade Monty and I made."

"Right. And Monty is…?" Charles asked, letting the question linger in the air.

"The person I study with?" Edwin asked, raising his eyebrows.

The person Edwin studied with. The person Charles had initially been setting his standards for on their first date. That was who had given him the book.

Someone who read. Who studied with him. Someone who Charles didn't know because Edwin hadn't ever really mentioned him until now.

Charles tried to shake the feeling of being left out from himself. There was no reason to feel that way. He was the one on a date with Edwin, after all, not this Monty guy.

But still, it bothered him. Maybe it was because the name was familiar or maybe it was just the idea of how close Edwin and Monty could have been to something— or maybe still were, it's not as if he and Charles were official or anything like that.

"Right," Charles said with a quick bob of his head. "So where are we going?"

Edwin frowned as he gestured further down the path. "This way. But Charles—"

"Better hurry," Charles cut him off. "Don't wanna spend too long out here, right?"

Edwin could only nod as they started off again. It made Charles feel like a heel, being short with Edwin like that, but he couldn't get rid of the mix of… jealousy? Uncertainty? That welled up as he followed alongside him.

Besides, it was not as if Monty was the one on a date with him. This Monty guy wasn't the one he wanted to make a bet with to take him on a date.

Well, unless he had and it had somehow gone unmentioned to Charles. Though he severely doubted it, seeing as how he and Edwin had spent most evenings together lately.

He slowed, his pace finally evening out to a more normal rhythm. He glanced up at the sky above them, the trees nearly blocking it out entirely where they were now.

"This way," Edwin said, stepping off the path.

Charles wanted to argue against that action; a city park at night really wasn't a great place to go off the path, but he stopped himself. Since when had he become such a worrier?

A large pond emerged to their left as they went, a small bit of fog rising up off it as the cold wind rippled the surface. The urge to toss one of the blankets over Edwin suddenly hit him and he could only hope that they reached where ever it was Edwin was taking him soon.

"Here we are," Edwin said a few paces further. Together they helped lay the blankets out, saving at least one of them to wrap around each other as they laid back to stare up into the night.

Tiny little pinpricks of light sprinkled the blue-black velvet sky. It had been ages since Charles had looked up at the sky like this, and even longer since he'd actually taken the time to relax while doing it.

It wasn't perfect. The city lights still made it difficult to see anything, even with how far into the park they were. Charles tried to remember if he had ever been that far in before, but he couldn't recall.

"Did you and Crystal come here a lot as kids?" he asked. His arm was draped around Edwin's shoulder, pulling him closer. He had been sure earlier that Edwin might be going to make the move, but Charles had been quicker, instead wanting to ensure that he was the one who got to do it.

He tried to imagine a little version of Edwin and Crystal, running around the park. Playing on the playground equipment, climbing trees, maybe skipping rocks at the pond across from them. It seemed like the perfect place for two little kids to go and spend an afternoon.

"No," Edwin said. "But I do run through here quite often. It is peaceful, usually very little traffic on this route."

Charles nodded, a small frown on his face. "Jus' be careful, yeah? Wouldn't want anything to happen to you."

Edwin turned to look at him, and Charles couldn't help to look back. Should kiss him now, he thought. It would be so perfect. He'd missed his chance during the movie, but he could do it now. There was no one around, it was as private as you could get while still in public. And the way Edwin was looking at him, the way his eyes looked down for a split second like he might be thinking about kissing him? It was a sign, he knew.

But still, he didn't take it.

"Ever seen a shooting star?" Charles asked, quickly looking back up at the sky.

"No, I have not," Edwin said. "Have you?"

Charles shook his head. "Thought I did once, when I was a kid. My dad though, he said it was likely just a stupid plane."

"And I suppose you cannot wish on planes?" Edwin asked.

"Nah, not like stars." Charles tucked the blanket further around them, still leaning back to look at the sky. "You good? Not too cold for you?"

"It is fine, Charles," Edwin said. "You are like a portable space heater."

"Not the first person to tell me that," Charles said, then cringed. It was true, many a girl had told him before that they barely even needed a blanket to sleep at night with how warm he was next to them, but he hadn't meant to say it in such a way.

"Is it something people have told you recently?" Edwin asked.

That, Charles could answer without hesitation. "No one but you."

"Good," Edwin said, nodding. He tilted his head back up at the stars, his long neck exposed as he did so.

Quickly, Charles turned his attention back to the sky. "When I was a kid I used to spin around, real fast, until I got so dizzy that I fell down and the stars looked like the were skipping across the sky. You ever do that?"

"No," Edwin said. "And I do not easily get dizzy, remember? It is a part of my literal training."

"Shame," Charles said. "'s kinda fun. Or it can be."

"How is spinning until you fall down 'fun'?" he asked.

Charles shrugged, the blanket lifting just enough to let in some of the cold air. "Just is." He squinted up into the sky, trying to see if he might recognize any of the stars above them. "You know any constellations?"

Edwin shook his head. "Space was never really my area of interest," Edwin said. "The… aesthetics of it are pleasant enough, but in actual practice I find my interests lie elsewhere."

Charles snorted. "Fancy way of saying it's pretty but boring."

Edwin gently jabbed him in the rib. "What about you? Do you know any constellations?" he asked.

"I did, when I was younger," Charles said. There had been some sort of assignment he had been required to do at St. Hil's, but all of that knowledge had left him. "But I haven't really thought about them in ages."

Cold hands managed to find their way against the skin of Charles's arm, despite his long sleeve and coat. "Jesus, Edwin, your fingers are like icicles." He looked down, trying to figure out if that was something he should be concerned about. "Do we need to call it a night?"

Frowning, Edwin shook his head. "No. Well, I mean, if you would like to end the night, we of course can. But I am perfectly fine right here."

Of course he was, he was dragging his ice-like fingers across Charles's skin. Goosebumps raised where Edwin's fingers had touched, though Charles could admit that it wasn't all because of the cold. Edwin's fingers on the bare skin of his arm under his sleeve was enough to have him wanting more, even if they were in a public park.

Water lapped at the edge of the pond a short distance away, almost as loud as the faint sounds of cars somewhere on the distant roads. "You know, I've been here for three years now, and I don't think I've ever spent this much time at this park," Charles said.

He was sure it was beautiful when the trees were in full bloom and not shriveling up to prepare for winter. There would probably be crickets and cicadas and those cute little fire flies in the summer too, with soft grass to lay on.

Silently, he glanced up at the first star he thought he had laid eyes on when they reached the clearing.

First star I see tonight,

I wish I may, I wish I might,

that I might have my wish tonight

He hoped that he and Edwin could come back there again at some point. Maybe in the spring near Charles's birthday or maybe even during the summer if he stayed in the States over break. It would take some doing, but he could do it.

"It's lovely," Edwin said, breaking through his thoughts. "Like I said, I often run through here when I am training."

That must be quite a run. Charles knew they weren't far from the school, but they were further out than Charles would have willingly run without any motivation.

"Offer's still on," Charles said. "If you ever want a running partner. I'm not Shelby, but I'm sure I could keep up for a while." The idea of running with Edwin through the park, possibly holding hands during their cool-down walk, laying out with him afterwards in one of their rooms or getting lunch together really did seem like the perfect thing.

"Perhaps I will take you up on the offer," Edwin said. "But let me get through this round of competitions, first."

Charles gave him another playful salute. "Anything you want, mate," he said.

And for a while they just... existed next to each other, their arms and legs slowly becoming more and more tangled as they did so until it was hard to tell where one of them ended and the other began. Sharing the blanket was so much easier when they were like this, and eventually even Edwin's frozen fingers began to thaw and feel like a normal temperature again.

"The stars were nice, but we should probably call it quits," Charles said, his breath ghosting in front of his face. His nose and the tips of his ears were cold, despite the rest of him being rather warm, and he was sure Edwin must have felt much the same.

Standing was a bit of a hassle, as both of their legs had gone to sleep at some point. Charles stood by while Edwin stretched just a bit, making sure his leg was fine before they gathered up the blankets to head back to the car.

Edwin leaned towards him, and for a moment Charles's heart skipped a beat. This was it. A kiss. He'd waited the whole date for it and now….

"A leaf," Edwin said, pulling out a rather crunchy piece of debris from his hair.

"Right," Charles said, breathless with disappointment.

Edwin flashed him a quick smile before turning and leaving him rather dazed in his wake.

XXX

Tonight had been…. perfect. Far more so than Charles could have ever believed was possible when it started. Of course he'd known he'd have a good time, it was Edwin after all and he never really had a bad time with him, but this… This truly was something different.

That shift had happened again while Charles was too busy to notice. Something had slowly changed between them, slowly setting those butterflies on fire in his stomach until it felt like a raging inferno and the only thing that could quench it was Edwin.

In whatever way he could have him.

"So," Charles said.

"So," Edwin said, equally as slow and drawn out. There was a sort of looseness to him that he hadn't ever seen before, a relaxed nature that he hadn't even possessed when sleeping or drunk. Strange, but not unpleasant. Almost addicting, really.

"So that was a date with Edwin Payne," he said, unable to stop his smile from spreading.

Edwin rolled his eyes. The action seemed softened, definitely more from fondness than from actual annoyance. If that hadn't been obvious from his eyes, it was in his smile.

"Was it alright?" he asked. There was a slight edge of worry to his words, but not enough to set off Charles's protective instincts.

"It was brills," Charles reassured him. He reached out across the console between them, and slid his hand into Edwin's. Edwin allowed it in a way he hadn't when he was driving, all of his nervousness gone now that the car was turned off and the date was "over."

Charles wished it wasn't. It felt too soon for it to be over, despite the clock letting him know it was now well past midnight. A perfectly acceptable time to end a date, even though that was the last thing Charles wanted to have happen.

He pulled one of his legs up into the seat, tucking it in until he was sort of sitting sideways and looking at Edwin. He was still sitting so prim and proper, his back perfectly flat against the back of the seat, both of his feet on the floor as if he was getting ready to drive.

"C'mere," Charles said, crooking his finger towards Edwin.

As if he were defrosting, Edwin leaned over until he was closer to Charles. Close enough that Charles could lean over and—

"Do you…" he trailed off, unsure how to ask. Did he mind if he kissed him? Did he care that that was all Charles wanted to do at that moment? Would it be okay?

"Hmm?" Edwin asked. His head tilted to the side, his hair bunching up against the seat until it was sure to be staticky.

"Can I kiss you?" Charles asked.

It sounded stupid and felt even more so. Who asked if they could kiss someone? Who even needed to do such a thing? Wasn't it obvious if someone wanted to kiss you?

But Charles couldn't deny that he was worried about pushing Edwin again. Edwin might have been the one to initiate their previous kisses, but that didn't mean he still wanted to kiss him. Or that he wanted to kiss him at this moment. He was allowed to tell him no, he was allowed to not want that.

Edwin blinked, clearly thrown by the question. "Did you… just ask if you could kiss me?"

Charles could feel the heat burn his cheeks as he fought against the urge to run or hide his face. God, was he ever going to get anything right? "I mean, well—"

Edwin leaned over the console, crushing their hands between his chest and the fake leather interior as he did so. His face was centimeters from Charles's, the slight puff of breath he let out as he leaned forward ghosting over Charles's face.

"Yes," he said.

"Yes?" Charles asked, still a little stunned.

"Yes, you can kiss me," Edwin said, his voice low and… flirty? "Though I must say, this night was about what you wanted to do, you should have known that all you had to do was—"

Charles surged forward and smashed their lips together. It was messy, uncoordinated, and everything he had been hoping for. Without even thinking, he reached up with his singular free hand and ran it through Edwin's hair, musing it up in that way he knew he hated but drove Charles insane. Just the idea of him disheveled, and kiss-drunk had Charles pressing in further, fully leaning over the console and trapping their hands fully between them.

Edwin's other hand traced Charles's jaw, gently pricking at the slight stubble he knew had grown in there. He held him, his hand soft against his skin, like he was something precious, something that needed to be cradled.

Eventually, Charles leaned back, gasping as he did so. He didn't go far, didn't want Edwin to think he was running away from him, that was, and leaned his forehead against Edwin's.

"I would have kissed you ages ago if I'd known you wanted it," Charles said. Forget the date, they could have spent the whole night making out in Edwin's car if that had been an option.

That slight quirk of Edwin's eyebrow was back, not so much visible, but felt from where their faces touched. "I suppose that was my fault for misleading you," Edwin said. "Though, I figured it was obvious, as I told you everything was up to you."

"That's not just a blanket permission to kiss you, though, is it?" Charles asked, pressing his lips against Edwin's again so quickly it was barely even there.

"It could have been," Edwin said.

Charles frowned slightly at Edwin's words. "Not to call you a liar or anything, but I think the last time we kissed you said you wanted to forget about it," he said. Quickly, before Edwin could get defensive or read too much into his words, he leaned forward again and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. It was insane that he could just do that. Kiss Edwin because he wanted to and he was right there.

"That was… different," Edwin said, though Charles could not quite figure out how. He wanted to burrow into Edwin's brain, to figure out all the ins and outs of it and what made him tick. What exactly made that time so different from now?

Was it because he'd realized how Charles felt about him? How he felt about Charles? Did it make more sense now that they had skated together, now that they had gone on this date together?

Or was it because they were alone?

A cold hand gripped Charles's heart. Was that what it was? Did Edwin want to kiss him now because they were alone in his car? Because no one would see them? He hadn't protested when Charles had given him a peck outside the arena last night, but that was different too, wasn't it? There had only been Niko and Crystal around for that, and anyone else who might have seen was a stranger.

Was Edwin… embarrassed by him? Was that what it was?

"Different how?" Charles asked. Because even if it hurt, he needed to know.

Edwin shifted, leaning back into his seat so Charles could see his face again. "That was an action I took without thinking," he said. "I've had a lot of time to think since then."

Charles tried to see what expression was on his face. Happy? Sad? Content? He needed to know.

It was too dark to see much, however. Not unless you were right up on whatever it was your were looking at. So Charles did what came naturally to him, he leaned over and put himself in Edwin's space again.

Edwin didn't move, barely even batted an eye at Charles's sudden closeness. "What've you been thinkin' about, mate?" he asked.

That small, shy smile was back. "How much I want to kiss you," Edwin said quietly. "How I wish that you had kissed me so many times before."

Charles didn't wait any longer. He leaned forward again, slowly this time, and pushed their lips against each other. The hand he had previously tangled in Edwin's hair thumbed across his cheek bone, framing his face and directing him where he wanted him to turn his head, adjusting him briefly so he could kiss him better.

Edwin sighed as he did so, seeming to melt further into his seat. His free hand grabbed onto Charles's elbow, as if daring him to pull his hand away. The other hand, still firmly wrapped entwined with Charles's, rubbed soothing patterns against his fingers.

Charles pushed his foot further into the floorboard for more traction. He needed to be closer to Edwin, damn the console between them, damn the steering wheel, anything that between the two of them was getting crushed in the process. The leg he had previously tucked up into the seat with him bumped against the console as he nearly climbed over it to keep kissing him.

He pressed him back against the seat, enjoying the way Edwin seemed to follow his lead on instinct. They should probably stop, or at least move somewhere where they weren't in full view of anyone walking by, but Charles couldn't find it in himself to care.

"Edwin," he said, breathlessly. It felt as if all the oxygen had been removed from the vehicle, leaving him lightheaded and unsteady as he leaned into Edwin.

"Hm?" Edwin asked. He sounded out of it, almost like he did when he was drunk.

"I—" Charles shook his head, unable to say what he wanted.

Edwin's eyes blinked open, the ring of green nearly gone in the dark. Charles hadn't even realized either one of them had closed their eyes until that moment. "Yes?"

Charles shook his head again. "Never mind." He leaned forward and kissed Edwin harder, slightly more aggressive than he had been. He worried that Edwin would back down, or protest in some way, but he didn't.

Instead, he met him on his level. He pushed forward and tilted his head against as Charles nipped at his lip. He could feel him lift off the seat a bit, his chest pressing against Charles's as he tried to match his energy.

It wasn't the first time Charles had ever made out with someone in a car, but it was by far the best. He kept his hands up high, choosing to run them through Edwin's hair or hold his face in place while Charles placed fervent kisses across his lips, his cheeks, anywhere he could press his lips.

Edwin, despite his relatively little experience at the subject, was a quick study. He sucked on Charles's lip for a moment before pressing butterfly kisses to his cheeks and neck— tugging down the high collar of his sweater in the process, which had Charles nearly out of his mind and threatening to climb over the console and fully into Edwin's lap.

"Wait," Edwin said, and Charles stopped so fast he might as well have become a statue.

"Are you okay?" Charles asked. Had he moved too fast, wanted this too much? Tonight had been so amazing, there was no way he'd fucked it all up just by acting like a crazed horn dog just from a bit of kissing.

Edwin sighed, a heavy, weighted thing as he nodded. "Yes, that was brills," he said, and Charles smiled at how affected Edwin sounded. "But I'm afraid we should stop."

Immediately, Charles moved back to his side of the car. It was so fast and so sudden that he could feel it shake underneath him.

Edwin looked flushed, his hair wild and the blush spreading down until it disappeared below his shirt. He wanted to follow it down, to see how far that blush went and how dark it was. It seemed unfair to lose it due to a silly long sleeved shirt.

Even if it did look incredible on him…

Awkwardly, Edwin tugged everything back into place. His clothes, his hair, even his expression seemed to be moving away from the shellshocked sort of surprise back into a more neutral expression.

"You did not have to run from me," Edwin said softly. "Not unless that was what you wanted to do."

"Just wanted to give you your space," Charles said, gesturing to the empty but heated air between them now.

"I like the space we had before," Edwin said, reaching out to hold Charles's hand again. "But, unfortunately, I do believe it is time to end the night."

All of his attention went towards Edwin's hand in his. He tried to rub soothing circles on it, the same way Edwin had been doing to him before, while also not overwhelming him with how badly he wanted to touch him.

"We don't have to," Charles said. "Dates can go on however long we want."

This time it was Edwin who leaned over the console. He kissed him, slow and long and just enough that Charles felt like he was going to lose his mind or end up in the exact same position as before.

Before either one could happen, Edwin leaned back just enough to hover over his lips. "Unfortunately, I have practice in the morning, and you need to study."

"What if you skipped it and I dropped out and instead we just did this all night?" Charles asked, pulling Edwin even closer by the neck of his shirt.

He tried to ignore the way Edwin shivered as he did so. "Very tempting offer, but I think we would both regret such actions," he said before giving him another kiss. "But we can always study later tomorrow afternoon."

"Study? Or study," Charles asked, wagging his eyebrows at him.

"Study," Edwin said. "Though perhaps if you are good there could be some… perks."

Charles could be good. Of course he could be, especially if it meant that Edwin was going to… well, whatever it was he wanted to do.

"Right, yeah, 'course," he said, his voice cracking. "Sounds aces, love studying," he said.

"Then let me walk you to your door," Edwin said. "So we can officially end this 'date.'"

Charles nodded. "What about another one?" he asked. "Once this one is over."

Edwin blinked, as if this thought at never really occurred to him. "Another one?"

His thoughts were running away from him. Thoughts of him and Edwin, holding hands in town, cuddling up on one of the couches in the library, kissing over coffee in the cafe. Another date, one right after another until Edwin was so sick of him he couldn't stand it.

"Only if you want to," he said, holding his hands up. "I mean, I know the bet was for one, but I bet we could use the practice."

Edwin closed his eyes and inhaled. "Charles—" he said, and Charles felt his heart shatter. This is where he told him he was tired of him, where he said that tonight had been fun and kissing him was brills, but he really didn't need any more than that.

He glanced away, not wanting Edwin to see the way he was fighting for control.

"I— I am not a pleasant person to be around during competition season," he said, fiddling with the ends of his sleeves. "I know this. And I would hate to promise you that I could be and then… not."

Charles turned his attention back to him so fast it nearly snapped his neck. "Edwin," he said. "Who told you that?"

Edwin shrugged. It was probably something that he had been hearing for so long he could not recall who had originally told him. "It is the truth."

"It's bullshit," Charles said. "Look at tonight, yeah? You were fun! Some of the most fun I've had in ages." He grabbed Edwin's face so he could look in his eyes, so he could be sure he understood him. "So what if you're a bit of an ass during them, it's a stressful time! I can't imagine how much pressure you're under. 'sides, I wasn't meaning right away, was I? I can wait till you're ready."

His thumbs brushed over Edwin's cheeks as he pulled him in for one last kiss. Edwin's eyes fluttered closed as he leaned in, exhaling as their lips touched.

"Competitions come first, I get that. But if you want help or a distraction or even just someone to sit with you while you practice, I can do that. Or if you want me to fuck off and get lost while you work, well, I can't promise I'll do that, but I will at least give you a bit more space," he said.

Charles wondered if anyone had ever told Edwin that before. If anyone had ever told him that they would do exactly what he wanted them to do, with little to no consequences.

He wished he could explain it to Edwin, that it really was whatever he wanted, but for now he would just have kiss him until he understood.

"I like practicing together," Edwin said. "Though I won't be able to skate with you until after the competition again. Too much… distraction." Charles grinned, unable to ignore that comment. It was nice to see he wasn't the only one "distracted" by their practices.

"I just… I don't want you to get the idea that I am… ungrateful. For everything you have done," Edwin said. "I know that I can be difficult, and I do not want you to think that that should reflect on you."

He kissed Edwin's nose, a quick, silly little move he hadn't even fully planned to do until after it was over. Then, he did it again, just because he could. This earned him a laugh so adorable that he would have gladly kissed his nose all night if it meant he could keep hearing it.

"It's fine. We all got our own ways of dealing with stress, yeah? Just… don't shut me out," Charles said. He hoped Edwin heard him when he said that, that he could be there for him, as long as he didn't try to shut him out, but it was so hard to tell. And even harder to get Edwin to listen to him, he was sure.

Edwin nodded. "Fine. But we really should call it a night. Coach King is not going to be lenient with me this close to a competition, I fear."

Charles gave him a mock salute. "Yessir, you got it. Wouldn't wanna tire you out before a long practice, hm?"

It might be dark, but Charles was sure his cheeks had colored red again. "Charles," he admonished, which only made Charles grin more.

The walk to Charles's door was short. Never before had Charles ever wished he lived on a higher floor, anything that would take them just a bit longer to reach his door. He needed it, just a moment longer with Edwin.

"You could always spend the night, y'know?" Charles asked, leaning up against the door frame to his own room. It was so familiar, almost like standing on Edwin's porch after their first date where Edwin had give him the sweetest cheek kiss in payment for their date.

Edwin gave him a rather pointed look. "I told you, Charles, I need to take these next few practices seriously." He leaned forward, that smug smile back on his face. "And that includes getting some rest in my own bed."

Charles leaned further into him. "Fine. But after the competition?"

Edwin rolled his eyes. "Fine. Perhaps after the competition."

It was a pointless thing to even negotiate for. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that he and Edwin would be back to their usual arrangements of TV shows and movies and studying in each other's homes before no time. They just had to make it until his competition.

Charles turned, intending to put his keys in the door, when Edwin's hand reached out and stopped him. His hold was feather light and gentle, so soft it could have easily been mistaken for an accident if Charles hadn't been looking at him.

"About my competition," Edwin said. "I was wondering— that is, if you wanted— I mean, I am not saying you have to but—"

Charles huffed out a laugh as he watched Edwin stutter through whatever it was he was trying to say. "What's up?"

"I was wondering if you wanted to come to my competition. With me," Edwin said. "It is over the Thanksgiving break and rather last minute, so I understand if you already have plans, but… I still thought I might ask."

Charles thought back to the night in his room after the glow party. "I bet I'd come to your competition, didn't I? That was already gonna happen, Eds, even if I had to start walking there now."

"Well, there is no need for that," Edwin said, smiling. "You can ride with me. We'll have to spend a couple of nights in a hotel near the venue, if that is alright with you."

A couple of nights… In a hotel room with Edwin.

Yeah, Charles was sure that was fine with him.

"As long as you're sure I won't, like, mess up your routine or something. Don't wanna knock you off your game or nothing," Charles said. Traveling, competing, all of it was a whole other world than what Charles was used to when it came to Edwin, and while he was begging for Edwin to give him a chance to help him, he could understand how him being around for some of this could be a bit… much.

Edwin leaned forward, gently directing Charles's head down so he could kiss him on the forehead. "Don't worry about that," Edwin said. "I want you there."

I want you there. How fucking magical it was to hear those words.

With that, Edwin stuck his hand out to Charles. "Well, Charles Rowland, this has been a lovely evening. I hope you enjoyed yourself?"

Charles leaned forward and took his hand, only to quickly bring it to his lips and kiss it like some sort of old fashioned gentleman. If Edwin wanted to play gentleman all night, then so could Charles.

"It was brills. Aces. Perfect," Charles said. "I could go on all night."

With more than a bit of regret, Edwin took his hand back. "Sadly, I cannot. Like I said, I need to leave. But I'll see you tomorrow, yes?" he asked. "For studying?"

Studying, kissing, whatever Edwin wanted to do was fine with Charles. As long as he got to see Edwin again it would all be fine with him.

He stood in the doorway as Edwin turned to leave, unable to walk away first. It wasn't until Edwin exited the dorm floor that he finally allowed himself to go inside and quietly scream to himself.

Notes:

sorry about the extra delay! life was extra crazy lol!

ps. Yes, the restaurant is a twilight reference in honor of my bestie lol and after seeing The Darkness perform a couple of weeks ago I knew I had to use this song!

Notes:

This is a fic that has been living rent free in my head since November, and it is finally time to start posting it! Thank you to everyone who has been excited about this fic, I only hope that it can live up to the hype! Thank you for reading! <3