in corridors of dream (now with you forever)

by ObsessedWithFandom

Summary:

Ever so slowly, things started changing. Charles spent more time in the library, never mind how his mates teased him, skimming through everything even slightly paranormal. Just in case. Sometimes he’d get to his room and his desk would be way neater than he’d left it; sometimes it’d be just the same, except that some old trinket had been pulled out from who-knows-where. There were flowers tucked in a couple of his books now, pressed flat and pretty, and Charles put them carefully back the few times they fell out, before he learnt how to hold the books up to prevent it. Once, when he was late for morning classes and stumbled out of his room with his tie all askew, he felt that cool brush like fingers at his throat, and no teacher gave him trouble for his appearance.

The day wasn’t anything special, except for that. Except that, at the end of it, Charles turned to the perpetual cold spot in his room and said, “Realise I never properly introduced myself, did I? My name’s Charlie – well, Charles, really. What’s yours?”

Or: Charles and his friendly boarding school ghost make each other’s acquaintance.

Notes:

• For idliketobeatree.
• Inspired by G H O S T | a dead boy detectives au comic by idliketobeatree

this one goes out to marcela in honour of dbda’s one-year anniversary. marcela my love, when i got your name you know i was JUMPING for joy, especially because it gives me the excuse to do something fun with your unbelievably gorgeous ghost comic and au! hope you enjoy this little tribute!! to many many many more years to come <3

title from Ghost by cynthia huntington

Chapter 1: the colder the night, the warmer your hands hold

Notes:

warning: canon-typical bullying, implied child abuse, and character death; references to racism and homophobia.

title from All’s Well That Ends by Rainbow Kitten Surprise

Everything changed when Charles turned sixteen.

Well, not everything. Still the same old school full of posh wankers, the same old teachers and their judgemental stares, even though Charles worked twice as hard as his peers and had the marks to show for it. A couple of new faces in his year, but he still spent breaks with the same lads from the cricket team, still hung out with the girls from St. Bernadette’s, still sneaked out to shows whenever he had the chance. Still went home over the hols to the sight of his mum’s strained smile, his dad’s occasional outburst.

So it was more like nothing changed, really, except it did. Charles knew it did – could sense it like a winter-snap come early, rippling like water at the corner of his eye. All his life, he’d had to be good at knowing when he was being watched, and now that sense was pinging, near-constant.

All told, it should have been unsettling at the least, well creepy at the worst, like he was in a bloody horror movie. Except it… wasn’t. A bit mental to wrap his head around, yeah, but almost comforting at the end of it. Like he had a friend always keeping him company, an invisible shield when his mates’ jokes gained a nasty edge, the mirage of a comforting hand on his shoulder when he needed it most. And Charles might be a bit old for imaginary friends, but…

But.

There’d been this house party, and a circle of them had gathered for a game of spin-the-bottle. Only, when it’d been Charles’ turn, the bottle had stopped abruptly on – nothing. Even as the girls on either side had been arguing over whose kiss it was, Charles had felt that familiar coolness brush over his lips, even though all the windows were shut and the party had been overheated a minute before. Didn’t even feel much like a chilly breeze, did it? Just a pair of cold lips that needed some proper warming up.

Charles had spent the rest of the game blushing to the tips of his ears and useless.

‘S just… nice, innit? Having someone fancy him like that. Charles was more the flirt first, ask questions later type, which was fine, he loved flirting, but. He was always the pursuer, never the pursued. So having someone be going for him like that, all self-confident moves? Well, Charles couldn’t help but like it, could he?

Couldn’t help but be half in love with his sweetheart of a ghost already.

Charles liked a good detective story, had always kept an open mind, and he wasn’t completely thick, no matter what his dad liked to say. It was obvious he was being haunted – except not by any of those ghosts you saw in the movies. Not some poltergeist talking through the TV, or creepy twins at the end of the corridor, and definitely not someone Charles would be calling the Ghostbusters on. Just someone he could go home to when his single room got too quiet, someone he could talk to and still pretend it was to himself, someone he could keep all to himself.

Just for Charles.

Ever so slowly, things started changing. Charles spent more time in the library, never mind how his mates teased him, skimming through everything even slightly paranormal. Just in case. Sometimes he’d get to his room and his desk would be way neater than he’d left it; sometimes it’d be just the same, except that some old trinket had been pulled out from who-knows-where. There were flowers tucked in a couple of his books now, pressed flat and pretty, and Charles put them carefully back the few times they fell out, before he learnt how to hold the books up to prevent it. Once, when he was late for morning classes and stumbled out of his room with his tie all askew, he felt that cool brush like fingers at his throat, and no teacher gave him trouble for his appearance.

The day wasn’t anything special, except for that. Except that, at the end of it, Charles turned to the perpetual cold spot in his room and said, “Realise I never properly introduced myself, did I? My name’s Charlie – well, Charles, really. What’s yours?” And he pushed over the old notebook and pen he’d found in some or other attic, a peace offering and a gauntlet thrown all at once.

The air went noticeably stiller, as if something unseen was trying very hard not to move.

Charles sighed. Opened the notebook to the first page and tapped it. “Look, mate, I know you’re there, no use pretending now. Promise I don’t bite.” He flashed the corner his best grin.

Another tick of nothing. Doubt started to rise in Charles’ throat, acrid and unstoppable. What if he really had imagined it, all along? What if he finally turned around, only to find the space behind him empty, the way it’d always been?

And then – a ripple in the air. The pen moved.

Charles whooped, then ducked in, keen to see what was being written. That now-familiar cool breeze shuddered across his face before speedily retreating. “Sorry, sorry!” Charles said, laughing a little. “Didn’t mean to knock you away, did I? Go on, I want to know your name! Please?”

A breathless second of hesitation, and then the pen was lowering to the notebook again. Charles waited properly, even though he was near vibrating out of his seat, for the pen to be placed down before he peeked at the page. His ghost’s handwriting was mint, all swooping lines and elegant curls, pretty as anything. It took Charles a bit of effort to decipher the cursive into – “Edwin,” he said slowly, the sound unfurling in his mouth.

Unmistakeably a boy’s name, and Charles didn’t know why he was surprised, except that he’d only ever fancied girls before, and also he had some vague notion that boys weren’t much for flowers. Then again, Charles liked the flowers plenty, so fair cop. And his books on ghosts did say they were drawn to the place they died in, and there was no reason for a girl ghost to be hanging around St. Hilarion’s, then. No reason Charles could stomach, in any case.

Actually, he didn’t like to think why a boy ghost would be hanging around here, either.

As for fancying boys, it wasn’t like he’d ever let himself properly look, was it? The way his dad shouted slurs at the telly, there was no telling what he’d do if his own son turned out to be queer. Charles had noticed some dishy blokes in his time, had felt the desperate draw of what he’d thought was friendship to some of them, and had left it at that.

But his ghost… Edwin was dead already and invisible to boot, which meant none of those rules applied to him, now did they?

He’d been quiet way too long. “Edwin,” he said again, letting the name settle on his tongue sweet as syrup. “That’s a brills name. Pleased to finally meet you, mate!”

After that, there was little appeal to be found anywhere except his room. Not in the classes that stretched on forever, or the bland meals, or kicking around a ball while his mates either bragged or whined about their girlfriends. They ragged on Charles for his distraction, of course; his teachers complained about his focus, threatened him with discipline; his dad followed through. Charles couldn’t find it in himself to care, not when he had his room warm with Edwin’s cold presence, Edwin’s scrawled notes full of sarky comments and clever questions and the games they played (he was a bloody wonder at Cluedo), Edwin’s company that was easy and kind and unconditional. Charles always did his best to answer his loads of questions properly, and Edwin never complained if his stories got a bit long or veered off the point. Sometimes Charles would find himself halfway through an explanation, only to realise it’d been about schoolwork all along, and that he’d managed to talk himself into getting a concept he’d been struggling with before. His Edwin could be a tricksy bastard like that. Charles liked it more than he should, probably, although not as much as his marks did. No idea what his teachers were complaining for, then.

He was also happier than he’d maybe ever been, not that anyone seemed to care about that. Sure, there were things he wanted and couldn’t have – he wanted to go out into town with Edwin, wanted to take him to a show and offer him Charles’ jacket to wear and hold his hand, wanted to show him off to the whole world. He wanted, with embarrassing intensity, to know what Edwin looked like. To know exactly where he was at all times, so that Charles could just reach over and touch him and –

They hadn’t talked about the kiss. Charles was too nervous to bring it up, even though he would be up for a repeat performance – a proper snog, even – literally any time. What if Edwin hadn’t liked it, though? What if he’d tried it out once, out of the same curiosity he approached the rest of the world with, and decided Charles wasn’t the one he wanted to kiss? Better not to ask, then. Besides, Edwin would’ve brought it up by now if he wanted another try. If he even remembered the first time.

Maybe it would’ve gone on like that forever – or at least until Charles left St. Hilarion’s and had no reason to come back, or Edwin moved on to someone better. Maybe he would’ve grown old with Edwin at his side. Maybe he would’ve spent his days reminiscing about those glorious days, his notebooks filled with Edwin’s elegant handwriting, his ears filled with static from the telly and radio that could nearly be a voice calling to him, his heart filled with Edwin, Edwin, Edwin.

Maybe.

Except that it turned out, without him around to keep an eye on the cricket team’s behaviour, they’d set their eyes on a new target. Aysar was new to school, yeah, but he seemed perfectly alright every time Charles’d greeted him in passing. But that wasn’t why the lads were beating on him, was it? No, instead it all came down to where he’d been born. Where his parents had been born.

Only a border away from where Charles’ mum had been born, and what difference did it all make, really?

Turned out, the team couldn’t agree more.

Afterwards, huddled in the attic, Charles was the coldest he’d ever been. (The coldest he’ll ever be.) For now, the only aim was making it through the night, but what then? He still had to go to school with these wankers, had to play cricket with them, had to make sure they never hurt Aysar or anyone else. It wasn’t like he’d be able to change schools, not if his dad had any say in it, which he always did. His mum might try to convince him, but it was too risky. Charles didn’t want to cause her any more pain. He could survive another few years here.

Couldn’t he?

Well, so what if he didn’t? Except for his mum, would anyone really miss him?

Light, cutting through the murky depths. A lantern. An angel holding it out, all softly blurred edges and the gentlest of smiles. An angel in the shape of a boy.

“What do you want?” Charles asked, too-sharp. God knows he didn’t deserve an angel coming for him.

“You can see me?” the boy asked, voice full of something like wonder, as if he wasn’t the single brightest thing in existence. “I… I thought perhaps this lantern would help. You can simply extinguish it if any of those boys come up here.”

“You saw them?” Another witness for Charles getting chased around by his old mates. Bloody brills.

The boy’s voice stayed gentle, soft as down. Charles could nearly imagine it wrapping around him, warming him more than the thin wool blanket ever could. “I did. I went to school here a long time ago. We had bullies too.” He knelt down in front of Charles, elegant as anything. “Rest assured, I shan’t hurt you.”

Charles had to blink away tears at that even as he unravelled a bit of his cocoon, reaching out for the lantern. It rattled in time with his shivers. “Cheers, mate. I’m freezing. Never been this cold in my life.” He shot the boy a glance, then patted the spot on the ground next to him. “Come over here, yeah? No good, you bringing a lantern and not getting to warm yourself with it too.”

The boy blinked, but complied, folding down like he’d only ever sat properly in chairs, hands folded in his lap and everything. Charles nudged the lantern to sit halfway between them.

“My name’s Charles,” he said, belatedly. “What’s yours, then?”

Surprise flickered over the boy’s face like candlelight. “Oh! I thought – but of course not. My apologies for not introducing myself before. My name is Edwin. Edwin Payne.”

Never mind butterflies in his stomach, they’d all of them migrated north to his ears. Charles could barely hear himself over the rush in his ears as he said, “Hang on a tick, you’re Edwin? Fuck off, no you’re not!”

Because Edwin was a ghost, and Charles couldn’t see him. (Why would he now, when he never had before?) Because Charles had wanted so desperately to know what Edwin looked like, but he never wanted to start expecting something. Because, for all that, there was no way in hell that the most beautiful boy he’d ever clapped eyes on just started fancying Charles out of nowhere.

Maybe there were more ghosts at St. Hilarion’s than he knew. Maybe they thought it’d be a laugh, having Charles on, making him think he had any sort of chance with this boy.

This boy, who was not laughing, but staring down at his lap, where his fists were pressed knuckle-to-knuckle. The threat of them turned only inward. “Ah,” he said quietly. “I see. I – I am sorry that –”

Charles sat up straight. “Wait, you’re being for reals?” The interruption probably made him sound like a git, but he couldn’t take another moment of the boy’s pain, thick in his voice. Edwin’s pain, maybe, and Charles’d been the one to put it there. “You’re really my Edwin?”

“Yes,” Edwin said immediately, then cleared his throat and stared straight ahead. “That is to say, I am the Edwin you have been sharing correspondence with, yes.”

“Oh,” said Charles, and then, feeling his grin spread wide enough to hurt, “Oh, that’s brills, mate!”

“It is?”

“Yeah, always wanted to talk to you properly, didn’t I? Bit sad it had to happen like this, innit, but I’m just… really, really chuffed that I finally get to see you.”

Edwin’s face creased in something like concern, but he only said, “I am always glad to accompany you, Charles.”

And, oh, wasn’t that something? Hearing his own name with the lilt of Edwin’s posh accent, lingering in Edwin’s mouth long enough to dissolve like sugar on the tongue. What would it taste like, direct from Edwin’s lips? What would Edwin do? Gasp? Or say Charles’ name again?

Charles stayed where he was, leaned back against the wall. He’d always been a coward at heart.

The rest of the night blurred past, a tinge of the delirium of being knackered but unwilling to go to sleep, staying up long into the midnight hours just to talk. How could Charles sleep, when even blinking felt like missing some fundamental bit of Edwin that he’d never get back? They found ways to pass the time: Charles told him a bit about what happened to him and why; Edwin spoke about his own time at St. Hilarion’s, ages ago. It wasn’t all that different to what they’d spent the last couple months’ worth of evenings doing, except –

Except that now they were both of them talking and listening; no more waiting for Edwin to scribble his part of the conversation, then squinting to decipher the words. Now Charles got to see what Edwin looked like when he got carried away with a really good yarn, how animated his face got, his gestures delivered with the same flourishes as his handwriting. A bit mesmerising, really. Then again, not like any part of him wasn’t, was it?

There were the absolutely mint ghost powers Edwin could finally show off, walking through walls and waving his hand through solid objects and so on. But all of it paled in comparison to his smile – his laugh – when Charles cracked what was a pretty weak joke, all told. A bit hazily, Charles thought, I want to spend the rest of my life making him laugh.

They’d shifted around a bit, the lantern still keeping them in its constant glow, and Edwin was telling him about ghosts not being able to feel the things they touched.

He looked way too sweet, sat there with his knees tucked in all proper-like, orange lantern-light on one side of his face and the greenish tint from the window on the other, smiling tentatively at Charles throughout. Before Charles could blink, words were tripping off his tongue. “It’s stupid, but… I think I’d miss kissing.” Bloody hell, he’d not meant to say that. He could still rescue it, though, couldn’t he? “Do you miss kissing?”

Bollocks. Maybe if he whacked his head against the wall a couple times, Edwin would forget that he asked that?

Or maybe he was overreacting. Maybe that first kisser hadn’t even been Edwin at all, and nevermind that just the thought made him feel ill. Or – Edwin had said ghosts couldn’t feel, yeah? Maybe it’d been such an underwhelming experience that Edwin’d already forgot all about it?

Charles chanced a glance over at Edwin. This turned out to be an enormous mistake, because Edwin was blushing, so now Charles was blushing. Not to mention twice as useless as during the spin-the-bottle game, since this time he had Edwin sat right next to him, looking like that.

“My experience is admittedly limited,” Edwin said, gazing anywhere but at him. “But yes, I suppose I understand the appeal now.”

“Yeah?” Charles breathed, tilting closer. It turned out there wasn’t that much space between them, even though Charles wasn’t sure he could stay upright for all of it. Well, falling into Edwin’s lap wouldn’t exactly be a hardship, now would it? “D’you wanna get a bit more experience, then?” He wasn’t thinking about the lucky few that formed part of Edwin’s ‘limited’ experience. He wasn’t thinking about kissing the memory of them right out of Edwin’s mouth. He wasn’t.

“It is kind of you to offer.” Was Charles seeing things, or were Edwin’s cheeks tinted even pinker? It was a pretty look on him. “But you should rather conserve your energy, Charles. You have been through quite the ordeal today.” Gentle though it was, it was still a rejection, even as Edwin’s fingers white-knuckled his knees, as his eyes stayed caught on Charles’ lips only.

“Right,” Charles said, on something that was half-laugh, half-cough, and a painful one at that. He used it as an excuse to turn away from Edwin. Easier for both of them, innit?

A blink, and they’d shifted again, close to where they’d started out. Another blink, and Charles’ head was resting on Edwin’s shoulder. He’d been saying something – no, reading out loud, his voice low and soothing, only stuttering the slightest bit at the interruption. Charles must’ve fell against him. Didn’t much mind, not when he was starting to burn up, and knew Edwin would be lovely and cool. Except he wasn’t. For the first time Charles could remember, Edwin’s presence felt lukewarm instead of freezing. It was a bit uncomfortable, really, with how hot the attic had suddenly got, but Charles wasn’t moving until Edwin told him to.

With that in mind, it was only the most natural thing to nuzzle his face further into Edwin’s shoulder and close his eyes, letting Edwin’s sweet voice sweep him under like the only safe tide there was.

Sunrise.

There were so many clues, in the end. Seeing a ghost for the first time. The wracking cough that had taken up residence in his lungs. Feeling so cold it looped right back to warmth, until he was burning up in a draughty old attic with only a threadbare blanket to protect him. Craving the chill of Edwin’s presence, and even that not proving enough. How he’d barely had the energy to hold his eyes open, last he remembered, and now he was stood at the window, feeling bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.

More than enough clues to put it together, really, but somehow it still took the sight of his own body, still and lifeless and weighing Edwin down, for the cold shock of realisation to sink in. Not that cold, after all. Nothing much was, now. Except for his corpse lying in the corner.

“Not enjoying this one?” Edwin asked around a chuckle, reaching over with one hand to gently adjust the corpse’s blanket. “Carrados, the Blind Detective was just becoming quite popular in my day.” Charles must’ve done something then – shifted in place or made a noise or turned towards him, he wasn’t sure – because Edwin froze like he’d seen something from the corner of his eyes. His gaze shifted so easily from the dying boy to the dead boy, like he’d known from the start. He probably had, at that. Edwin confirmed it with a quiet, “When you could see me, I knew it was too late. But I simply… I could not bear to scare you.”

He looked gutted. Charles wanted to give him the world, but was forced to settle on, “Well, I’m glad you didn’t say anything. Like, I knew about ghosts and the lot already, but it’s different to feel it, innit? Not like I imagined. Feels okay, doesn’t it?”

“I… I sincerely wish we could’ve been friends for longer, Charles,” Edwin said, a bit formal, like he’d rehearsed the words. But under that, his voice was wobbling something terrible, cracking like splintering ice beneath careless feet. “But Death will come for you now. You must go with her when she arrives.”

He spun around, easy as that, turning his back on the best friendship Charles had ever had like it was nothing.

“Wait!” Charles said, without any plan, just knowing he wasn’t ready to lose Edwin. “Wait, I’m not… I don’t want to go somewhere else. Not without you.” Bloody hell, but that sounded way too desperate. What if all of this was just Edwin trying to get rid of him in the nicest way he could? “I’m – I can help out, I can be useful. Please don’t send me away, Edwin.”

Edwin finally turned back. Even with this unbridgeable distance between them, Charles could tell his eyes were too shiny for anything except tears. “Charles – you do not understand. If you come with me, you will always be running from her.” He glanced away. “You could have your pick of companions, you know. Don’t let sentiment blind you to my flaws.”

“What flaws exactly?” Charles demanded, because this was all sounding like a load of tosh. As if he’d just go out and pick a random ghost to replace Edwin! “What, that you nick my nice pens? Yeah, dunno how I’m going to survive that one now that I don’t have to go to school any more, mate.”

“I do not – Charles, be serious! I am not good with other people!”

“You seem aces to me. Y’know, the person you’ve been spending the last couple of months with every single day? Reckon I’m the authority on that, if nothing else. You’re my best friend, Edwin, and that’ll never change.”

Edwin was wavering, Charles was dead cert. Maybe he’d really let him… Abruptly, Edwin said, “When I met you – I had just come back to this school after escaping Hell. And I followed you before you were aware of me, for far longer than you know of, which is an unforgivable breach of your privacy. I have done more than enough. So when the blue light comes, you stay” – his hands extended towards Charles – “and I go.” His hands folded on his chest, cold and forbidding, the way you’d arrange a corpse.

Again, he turned. Again, Charles interrupted before he could take a single step away. “Not too sure about that one, mate. I knew you were around for a good long while, didn’t I? Since the kiss, at least.”

Edwin spun back, wide-eyed and pink-cheeked. “I – you knew?”

“As for the Hell thing, I’m just chuffed you got out,” Charles added gently. “That sounds hard.”

“That is not how you make decisions, just based on whatever you happen to be feeling in the moment,” Edwin said, eyes gone feverishly bright.

“Not really ‘in the moment’ when it’s been months coming, is it?” Charles’ gaze didn’t waver. “Doesn’t seem all that different now.” He smiled at Edwin, just like he had all night, just as he had all year, just as he’d waited his whole life to do. “Looks like you’re stuck with me.”

Edwin inhaled sharply, no doubt winding up to another argument Charles couldn’t bear to hear.

Blue washed across his face, turning him into a monotone painting, a symbol of grief so obvious most teachers would scoff at it. The light came from somewhere behind Charles – he wasn’t exactly about to turn and check, was he? Something in him knew that this was it: the crossroads, the choice that would haunt the rest of his unlife, the moment of reckoning.

Charles smiled at Edwin, reached for his hand, and ran.

Notes:

i really wanted to incorporate the post-death introductions from marcela’s comic into this, but i’d already deviated so much from it and the idea of charles recognising his edwin in the attic was just too good, so rip

st. bernadette’s being the st. hilarion’s sister school is borrowed from Like We’re Gonna Die Young (Again) by the one and only RoseGanymede95, bc charles being a girls’ girl is just too important to me.

you might ask, hey, why the fuck was edwin less repressed just after getting out of hell in this au than after 30 years in canon? to which i answer, don’t ask me, we’re just vibing. maybe some of the boys did kiss each other during spin-the-bottle, edwin thought “that’s allowed now? neat” and fucking went for it. and i say, good for him good for him

Chapter 2: but i fell in love before i saw you fly

Summary:

London must look a sight different to back in 1916. It wasn’t like Charles knew this part of town well, either, quieter and more residential than he’d have cause to visit.
“Bit much, innit?” he asked. Edwin, looking relieved, nodded. “Tell you what, how about we find an empty place to hole up in for the day, and save the exploring for tomorrow?”
“A splendid idea, thank you, Charles,” Edwin said. Charles tried not to preen too obviously.

Notes:

note the rating is now e ;) mature bit starts at ‘Unconsciously, his voice lowered. Edwin only leaned in further, his grey-green eyes wide and wondering.’, explicit bit starts at ‘“Oh,” Edwin gasped, nothing separating his hand and Charles’ skin now.’ and ends at ‘Edwin cupped Charles’ cheek in his hand and stared him down seriously.’ if you want to skip it!

some bits are definitely inspired by the dgd server (if you know you know), love you all loads <3

title from Where You’re Coming From by Vincent Lima

They didn’t stop running, not for a good long while, not until St. Hilarion’s was a distant memory. (Disproving all those ghost stories about forever haunting your dying place, twice over.) For all his swotty looks, Edwin was a fast one, nearly outpacing Charles loads of times. Only their clasped hands kept them tethered together. Well, that and Charles’ occasional, “Oi! Slow, down, would you?”

The latest of these finally filtered through. Edwin slowed from an outright sprint to a jog, to a brisk walk, and finally to stillness. “Ah, yes,” he said, blinked up at the skyline. “I suppose we are far enough for safety now. Though I must confess, I do not recognise this place at all.”

He wouldn’t, would he? Not if he’d only just escaped Hell and spent all the time since at St. Hilarion’s. London must look a sight different to back in 1916. It wasn’t like Charles knew this part of town well, either, quieter and more residential than he’d have cause to visit.

“Bit much, innit?” he asked. Edwin, looking relieved, nodded. “Tell you what, how about we find an empty place to hole up in for the day, and save the exploring for tomorrow?”

“A splendid idea, thank you, Charles,” Edwin said. Charles tried not to preen too obviously.

Finding an empty flat did take same doing; early enough that lights weren’t a good indication, late enough that most people were off to work. But they both liked their detective stories, it turned out, and made a game of pointing clues out: dust settled thick on the floor, the post piling up at the door, a telling lack of human messiness. Edwin was happy enough to settle for the first bare-bones flat they saw, new and clean and painted a dead sort of white, but Charles kept them hunting until they found a place with at least some life to it, if only in the few pieces of furniture left behind to rot. A desk. A bed. There was even the tiniest couch Charles had ever clapped eyes on, barely taking up a corner of the room.

Charles did a slow turn, taking it all in. It just confirmed what he already knew: “Yeah, this is it.” He finished the turn and flopped down on the bed, laughing at the cloud of dust it spat out and how he didn’t sneeze once.

Edwin had settled on the desk chair, meanwhile, and it felt just like old times. A bit too much like old times, even – Charles had to keep looking back, just to check that Edwin was still there.

“I’m afraid ghosts do not sleep,” Edwin told him, misunderstanding the glance at him in his chair. “But if you wish to rest your eyes, I will of course keep watch over you.”

“Nah, mate, just happy to be off my feet after all that running.” Charles grinned and wriggled his toes, even though he could barely feel an ache in them. More the memory of exhaustion than anything, really. “Hang on a tick, what were you doing back at St. Hil’s while I was sleeping, then?”

Edwin went pink. “Is that truly relevant?”

Charles’ eyebrows shot up. “Well, now I have to know, don’t I?”

“If you must know, I explored the halls and the library.” His voice was snippy, but not harsh. Quieter, he continued, “Occasionally I would – remain in your room. I did not mean to intrude, but you must understand, I ended up in Hell because of schoolmates dragging me out of my bed and sacrificing me. I could not risk the same happening to you, however unlikely it seemed.”

There was a hand around Charles’ throat, gentle as a lover, slowly squeezing the life he no longer had out of him. That Edwin had watched over him, had kept him safe before they even knew each other – that he had slipped into that same role so easily just now… And had he said his schoolmates had sacrificed him? Charles wanted to travel back to 1916, wanted to beat the shit out of those wankers before they could touch a hair on Edwin’s head, wanted to protect Edwin like he’d been protecting Charles all along.

“I… I am sorry for intruding,” Edwin said, a touch anxiously. “I did not intend anything untoward –”

“Nah, nah, nah,” Charles quickly interrupted that tangent, sitting up and leaning as far into Edwin’s space as he could without falling completely off the bed. “Don’t say sorry! I enjoyed the company, didn’t I? Just… happy you had somewhere safe, too. Cos I’d always protect you, you know that, right?”

“It seems you were aware of my company for far longer than I thought,” Edwin said with a quirk of his eyebrow, not addressing the last bit at all. That was fine. Charles could see his blush all the way from over here, easy. “Was it truly since the kiss? You never said anything.”

“Neither did you!”

“I wasn’t sure you knew. Not until – Well.” Was Charles seeing things, or was Edwin mirroring his lean forwards? “You said you missed kissing. Did you mean…?”

“’Course I did.” Charles grinned at him. “And then you told me to save my energy.” He cocked his head. Raised his eyebrows. “Reckon I don’t have much in the way of energy to save now, do I?”

“Actually,” and there was the swotty tone Charles had already grown to know and love, “ghosts consist chiefly of energy –”

Charles couldn’t even feel bad about cutting him off, not when Edwin instantly melted into it, gasping so prettily. For all that, he still kissed just like Charles remembered, a bit unpractised but blindingly intense – only this time Charles could feel him, really feel him, and he wasn’t cold at all but burning up. Getting his arms around him only turned it up higher, but Charles was more than a bit distracted by Edwin’s building confidence, the tongue he was teasing against the seam of Charles’ lips until he opened for him with a groan, Edwin’s hands mapping out his front with single-minded focus… The list went on and on and on, and the lot of them would drive Charles mental if he let them.

He had half a mind to do it, honestly.

Afterwards, he couldn’t be exactly sure what happened, if Edwin pushed forward, or Charles pulled to compensate, or both at once. Either way, they spent a dizzying tick off-balance – and then Charles was sprawled back on the bed with Edwin plastered to his front, all heat and insubstantial weight.

Charles grinned up at Edwin’s sweetly shocked face, his own cheeks hurting just trying to hold back the full force of his love. “Hi,” he said intelligently, and kissed him, and kissed him, and kissed him.

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Having Edwin on top of him was absolutely mint, but made it hard to move around like Charles really wanted to. With a bit of encouragement, they ended up on their sides, still snogging, only breaking occasionally to explore each other’s jaws and throats and collarbones, always ending up back at the lips. Charles slung a leg over Edwin’s hip and hummed satisfaction right into his mouth. If they could stay here for the rest of forever, just doing this, he could die –

Well.

He could be dead happy.

“I hadn’t thought…” Edwin murmured, so beautifully breathless that Charles just had to kiss him, didn’t he? He made another attempt a few ticks later, when Charles was distracted mouthing at his throat. “I was certain it would be my last chance, especially when I so rudely stole a kiss from you.”

“Oi, that bottle landed on you fair and square!”

“And exactly what force do you think caused it to stop so suddenly, Charles?”

“Must’ve been the wind.” Charles grinned at the giggle Edwin let out. Parted his lips to catch the vibrations against his tongue, the strange non-taste of ghostly skin, the pins-and-needles buzz like some part of Charles had always been asleep and was only now waking up. He scraped his teeth down Edwin’s pretty neck, too, dead pleased with the way it made Edwin shiver and jerk in his arms, punching out a moan from low in his throat. A bit belatedly, he added, “And here I thought I was being so obvious.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“You didn’t even notice? Christ, I was doing a poor job, then.”

“Won’t you tell me now?” There was a distinctly flirty curl to Edwin’s voice, not to mention the kiss he feathered to the top of Charles’ cheekbone. Oh, Charles had created a monster.

He couldn’t regret it one bit.

“Just loads of stupid things, really. The stuff I’d wear. Asking what you thought of them, so I’d know you were looking. The way I’d sit.” Unconsciously, his voice lowered. Edwin only leaned in further, his grey-green eyes wide and wondering. “Sometimes I’d, uh, touch myself, knowing you might be right there. Hoping you were, honestly. That you’d, y’know, give me a hand…”

Edwin looked gobsmacked. “I thought – I always provided you some privacy to… see to your needs. You would’ve wanted – ?”

“God, yes,” Charles said, more moan than words. Turned out their snogging session and just talking about it were enough to get him hard, and with his leg curled around Edwin’s hip, it was impossible not to grind up against him. Edwin gasped, gratifyingly hard himself, and rolled his hips right back. “’Course I did. ‘Course I do. It’s you, innit?”

Edwin ripped himself away, leaving Charles cold. Had that been too much for him? Would he leave, now that Charles had disappointed him? But when Charles found the strength to check, Edwin had only retreated a few inches, his eyes feverish-bright and focused only on Charles. “Show me.”

Charles’ thoughts moved syrupy slow. “What?”

“Show me how you would please yourself. For me, Charles?”

“Oh.” Charles wasn’t sure how hadn’t sunk straight through the bed, hearing that. “Yeah. For you. Only for you, Edwin.” He brought his hands to his upper body out of sheer habit, then chuckled. “Usually I’d start out touching other places, get myself worked up and all. Reckon it’s not really necessary this time, though, is it?”

Edwin’s eyes dropped to the very obvious tent in Charles’ trousers. His lips parted, the pink tip of his tongue peeking out as he ran it across his lower lip, slow as sin. It took every bit of Charles’ self-control not to reach across the void between them and just snog the hell out of him. He’d been given his orders. Edwin asked, “What are the other places?”

And, well, Charles just had to show him, didn’t he? The sensitive spot on the side of his neck (“Feels brills when you kiss me here.”); the paths he liked to trace over his ribs, across his stomach (“Don’t tell anyone, but I’m a tad ticklish.”); the way his hips jerked when he played with his nipples (an embarrassingly drawn-out moan). Edwin reached between them – Charles lost a bit more of his breath – and caressed a nipple, the contact electric even through Charles’ vest.

Edwin fingered the material of this, next, a frown furrowing his heavy eyebrows. “Could you perhaps…”

Charles didn’t wait for him to finish before tugging his vest up – then reconsidered. He really didn’t want to sit up, irrationally terrified this delicate moment between them would pop like a soap bubble at any sudden move. Ghosts were just energy, hadn’t Edwin said? So their clothes weren’t really there at all, just what they imagined to be there. If he imagined, really hard, that his torso was bare, then –

“Oh,” Edwin gasped, nothing separating his hand and Charles’ skin now. He stroked over Charles’ nipple again, nearly scientific in his curiosity, and Charles arced into the touch, whining, his cock twitching in his trousers.

“I thought about piercing ‘em,” Charles confessed. “Reckon there’s a ghost piercing shop out there?”

“I – I wouldn’t know,” Edwin stammered, his entire face red. “But if that is what you wish, I am – certain we could find something suitable.”

“What about you, then?” Charles asked, biting the inside of his cheek to hide his smile. “What would you think of them?”

“I hardly see the relevance of – don’t tease me, Charles.” Edwin’s teeth dug into his lower lip. Abruptly, he said, “You are, of course, under no obligation to do so – but if you would allow me to touch them –”

“Always,” Charles interrupted, hauling Edwin back just to kiss the ridiculous words right out of his mouth. “Love, I used to think about stealing ice cubes from the kitchen and pretending they were your fingers on me.”

Edwin looked, if anything, worried. “My touch was that cold to you? Is it still?”

“Nah, nah, it’s hot,” Charles reassured him, which – huh. Well, it was bang on in more ways than one, now, wasn’t it? “Point is, I always want you touching me. I’d definitely want you touching my nipple piercings once I get them, no question about it.” He peeked at Edwin from under his lashes. “I want you to touch me now.”

At least Edwin hesitated before shaking his head, but Charles couldn’t stop a whine when he retreated from touching him entirely. “No. No, I want to see you in full. Please, Charles.”

“Couldn’t get your attention wanking before, and now that I can finally see you, you want me to wank alone again?” Charles grumbled. But Edwin had asked so very sweetly, and Charles was weak for him, always had been. He trailed a hand down, down, all the way to the bulge in his trousers. Drew his fingertips lightly over it, then popped the button. Zipped down the flies as slow as humanly possible. Teasing himself as much as Edwin, whose breathing had noticeably picked up its pace.

It was only when Charles finally, finally had himself in hand that Edwin said, “I was lying, before.” There were two spots of hectic colour, high up on his cheekbones.

Charles raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?” Maybe a claim like that should make him nervous, but the only thing that could right now was Edwin calling it quits. From the way he was eyeing Charles like he wanted to eat him (and oh, wasn’t that a thought), Charles thought his chances looked pretty good.

“The previous times you touched yourself,” Edwin said slowly, almost reluctant. “I did leave and provide you privacy – every time except the first, that is.” His expression had folded in on itself, a fine frown lining his forehead and tugging the corners of his lips down.

“Oh,” Charles said, blinking, and then, “Oh! Cheeky lad!”

Predictably, Edwin spluttered and protested, “I did not mean to! I did not know what was – you were under your bedclothes! I saw nothing!”

No wonder he wanted to see Charles properly, this time. “But you heard me, didn’t you?” Charles checked. Edwin’s blush was answer enough. “When was it?”

“Some time before you spoke to me for the first time. After that, I knew better than to linger.”

“That’s a shame,” Charles said, trailing his gaze down Edwin’s body and back up again, physical as a touch. “You missed all of the times I said your name during, then.”

Edwin’s pupils blew wide. “You did not,” he tried, but doubt was already creeping into his voice. Only months into their strange little friendship, and he knew Charles better than just about anyone else in his old life. He knew this was exactly the type of mad thing Charles would do.

Charles smiled lazily. Well, if Edwin wanted proof…

The thought of Edwin walking in on him wanking had become its own fantasy, of course, but there were a couple others that always did the trick. Sinking to his knees and Edwin’s cock filling his mouth, fingers curling in his hair as Edwin fucked his face slow and gentle and deep. Waking up next to Edwin because they’d cuddled all through the night, getting to grind against his arse and stroke his cock, all while laving Edwin’s neck with sleepy kisses. Being fingered and then fucked from behind, clutching his headboard hard enough to leave fingernail-shaped marks, a sticky summer night that turned Edwin’s icy touch into pure bliss.

He let the last of these filter through, a well-worn fantasy. Knowing what Edwin looked like only added to it. This bed had a different headboard than the one at St. Hilarion’s, but Charles could clutch it all the same. And he’d have Edwin crowding his back, hands busy at his nipples or his neck, until Charles started begging, and then he’d finally focus his attention where Charles wanted – needed – it. The minimum amount of prep they could get away with, and Edwin would be sliding home, hands tight on Charles’ hips, teeth buried in his shoulder.

The hand on Charles’ cock wasn’t his own anymore, but fantasy-Edwin’s, reaching around him to stroke him off in time with his thrusts. Charles’ back arched, chasing the pleasure. “Edwin,” he moaned. “Oh fuck, Edwin! Please. Please.” His eyes slitted open, staring past fantasy-Edwin to the very real Edwin, who was watching him as if witnessing a miracle. Charles told him, “Edwin. Touch me.”

And then the hand on Charles’ cock really wasn’t his own anymore, as Edwin knocked it aside in his haste to get his hand on him. Charles groaned, feeling it all the way down to his soul, and buried himself to the hilt in Edwin’s fist. “– perfect, perfect,” Edwin was breathing. “Oh, Charles, you are exquisite. Thank you, thank you…”

Charles made full use of his freed arms and pulled Edwin in for a desperate kiss. Edwin’s words were lighting him up from head to toe, and it was as good as it was painful, like burning yourself on a flame after too much time spent out in the cold. As for thanking him, Charles couldn’t imagine what for, when all of him was already Edwin’s.

It was only when he was pressed up against Edwin – muzzily wondering how far ghost-to-ghost powers extended, and what a normal way was to ask Edwin if they could try merging ribcages – that he was physically reminded of Edwin’s hardness. Oh, he’d been selfish, hadn’t he, laid there and making Edwin do all the work. “D’you need me to…?” he asked, separating from Edwin’s lips with some effort, skating a hand down to press up against Edwin’s cock.

Edwin hesitated, even as his hips juddered forward, but eventually shook his head. “I do not wish to be distracted.”

“Unh,” Charles said intelligently, because Edwin chose that moment to tighten his grip, stroking up Charles’ cock and twisting over the head. For his part, Charles settled his hand at Edwin’s waist and held on for dear – well, death, probably.

It didn’t exactly take much to push him over the edge, after the snogging and the talking and now Edwin’s hand on him, Edwin’s body beneath his hand, Edwin’s face before him, Edwin, Edwin, Edwin. Charles didn’t even have the brainpower to be embarrassed when he shook apart after only a few more strokes, burying his face in Edwin’s neck and shuddering his way through an absolute earthquake of an orgasm. His throat was raw by the end of it, nevermind that he’d been muffling all his sounds against Edwin’s skin.

Another tick, and Charles felt strong enough to surface. An instant mistake. Edwin had raised his come-covered hand, considered it with curiosity, and brought it to his mouth. How Charles didn’t die a second time, he didn’t know. It was all he could do to groan pitifully into Edwin’s neck.

“I… I have never done this before,” Edwin said, painfully uncertain. “Was that alright?”

“I think there was a mix-up and I ended up in Heaven after all,” said Charles. He kissed Edwin’s neck, then kissed it again. Pushed at him and followed where he led, laying himself on top of Edwin. And, oh, being on top of him was every bit as brills as everything else they’d done.

Edwin huffed. Charles felt the motion of his swallow against his lips, the vibration as he said, all-too-sincerely, “I realise it was all rather sudden for you. If you do wish to go to Heaven –”

“No,” Charles said, finally raising his head to let Edwin see just how serious he was. “Not going anywhere you’re not, am I? I said you’re stuck with me now, and I meant it. Forever, if you’d let me.”

“Let you?” Edwin’s handsome face crumpled. “My darling, I would beg you for that privilege, if it weren’t so unforgivably selfish of me…”

Charles clasped his hands to Edwin’s cheeks, kissed him soft and deep. My darling was singing through his chest, nearly heavenly – except Charles doubted any afterlife could compare. “Not selfish,” he murmured, “never selfish. I’m yours, love, always. You don’t have to beg. Well, not if you don’t want to, at least.”

Finally, that strange sadness in Edwin’s eyes broke, spilling over in tears that Charles kissed away. He dimpled at Charles through it, saying, “I find I do not mind the thought. Not when it’s you.”

“Funnily enough, neither do I.” Charles continued the trail of his kisses downward. At some point, while he’d been distracted, Edwin had gotten some of his kit off. Charles fingered the collar of his scandalously unbuttoned shirt and tried not to lose his mind at the sight of Edwin’s collarbones peeking out. “Can I –”

“Yes.”

“Don’t even know what I’m asking for, do you, love?”

“Charles.” Edwin’s eyes were so very certain. Not to mention dead pretty. “Yes. Anything.”

Charles swallowed thickly. Worked his way down the thousand buttons of Edwin’s shirt, and gamely didn’t sigh at the undershirt, also buttoned, beneath. At least that one had the bonus of revealing Edwin’s soft skin, inch by inch, the occasional brush of Charles’ fingertips making him shiver. And when Charles finally reached the end, he got to push the sleeves down Edwin’s arms, kissing as he went. A surprising amount of muscle at his shoulder and bicep, the pale, vulnerable inside of his elbow, the elegant twist of his wrist beneath Charles’ worshipful lips. Over the palms, the knuckles, to the fingertips, then back again, all the way to the other side. New treasures: a mole on his left forearm, a slightly crooked pinky finger. Down the artwork that was his torso, pausing to swirl his tongue over Edwin’s pretty pink nipples, until he was crying out and arcing into the touch. Counting ribs, jealous of their proximity to Edwin’s heart; nuzzling into Edwin’s stomach, admiring the dark trail of hair leading down, even as his hands got busy with even more buttons.

Charles hadn’t thought his next move was that much of a mystery. Not when he was unbuttoning Edwin’s trousers, his pants, dragging them down and then gaping at Edwin’s prick, long and slender and pretty, prettier than he’d thought pricks could be. Not when he let out an embarrassingly awed, “Bloody hell.” But when he leaned down helplessly to kiss the tip, the sound Edwin let out was more startled than pleased, his eyes wide and shocky. Charles could take a hint. He turned his focus to Edwin’s hipbones, soft thighs, the bony joints of his knees, a pair of ankles that would make a Victorian hyperventilate. Finishing his journey of kissing Edwin all over, like he’d meant to, and then he’d go back up and check whether he should leave off with the whole going down on him thing.

Only – he got a little side-tracked, didn’t he, because calling Edwin’s thighs soft was the understatement of the bloody millennium. They were addictive, was what they were, silky and sensitive and susceptible to love bites, giving so sweetly beneath Charles’ teeth. In no time at all, they were trembling around his ears, Edwin babbling something incoherent a bit further up. One hand curled tight in Charles’ hair, sending shivery shocks through him with every tug; the other cupped his neck, holding him in place more effectively than a leash.

Until Edwin started begging, that is, apparently taking Charles’ early words very seriously. “Please, Charles. Please – oh – please, my darling, please…” It soon collapsed back into a series of gasps and moans, on the edge of sobbing, every bit as sweet as the begging.

And, well. If Charles could take a hint, he could definitely take such a polite request, now couldn’t he?

He bought himself some time kissing up the length of Edwin’s cock, just like every other part of him, suddenly a bit nervous in the face of what he was about to do. He’d only gone down on someone once before, and that was with a girl. Still, some of the same principles should apply, right? Go slow, focus on the other person’s pleasure, ideally don’t feel the need to breathe too much. The last one especially shouldn’t be a problem, given that Charles no longer possessed lungs.

It turned out just those principles weren’t quite enough to make up for lack of experience, but Charles could figure it out on the fly. Could look out for what had Edwin moaning the loudest, clenching his hand the hardest. Edwin liked when Charles stroked him in time with his mouth, liked when Charles peeked up through his eyelashes and they held eye contact for a charged tick, liked when Charles withdrew all the way and swirled his tongue around the tip, the lot of it on display for Edwin to watch. Edwin really liked watching, and Charles really liked being watched, it turned out.

Edwin didn’t warn him he was close, but Charles didn’t think that was intentional. Poor lad probably didn’t have enough experience to know his orgasm was well on its way. But listening closely as he was, Charles could pick up on the new strain in his voice, his frantically thrusting hips, the desperation in his, “Ah, Charles!”

The keen that Edwin let out when Charles pulled away was heartbreaking, but Charles quickly closed his fist around where his mouth had been. Stroked hard and fast, now that Edwin was so close to the edge. Stayed close himself, and said, “Come on, Edwin, won’t you come for me? I’ll make you feel so good, love. Just come for me, there’s a good lad.” He swayed closer, caught on where Edwin’s cock was still spit-slick and the prettiest shade of red, and blew a teasing breath across the tip.

Edwin gave a full-body shudder, jerking beneath Charles’ hands, and came all over Charles’ face with a low groan. Charles stroked him through it, keeping up a soothing murmur of sweet nothings and kisses to his inner thighs. There was come streaked everywhere on his face, now, caught in his eyelashes, dribbling down to his chest, and it should be minging, but it was Edwin’s, and somehow that meant it was hot. Even more so when he looked up to see Edwin collapsed back and staring at him, pupils blown so wide that his eyes were more black than grey-green.

On an impulse he didn’t see any reason to refuse, Charles swiped his thumb across his own cheek and sucked it into his mouth. It didn’t taste like much, it turned out. Maybe a bit salty, a bit musky. Charles thought that was probably more a ghost thing than a come thing, though. The important thing was that he wouldn’t mind Edwin coming in his mouth, next time they did this, and bloody hell, wasn’t that a thought? He felt heat rise to his cheeks.

“Charles,” Edwin said, a bit shattered, and Charles was next to him in a flash, hugging him close. “I am sorry – you should not have let me –”

“Oi! I didn’t let you, I was practically begging you to, wasn’t I?” Charles nuzzled in close, thought better of it, and after a moment of concentration, felt the sticky texture vanish from his face. A bit sad, when he’d still been enjoying it, but maybe they could save that for a time Edwin wasn’t having an existential crisis. “I really, really liked it. In case that wasn’t obvious.”

Edwin was silent for a tick, but he did curl closer in Charles’ arms. Quietly, he asked, “Is it always so… much?”

“What, that was your first?” Charles blurted, his mouth working it out before his brain could. “Hang on, was that your first orgasm ever?” Edwin was shrinking into himself, which was the last thing Charles wanted. He kissed the side of Edwin’s face, stroked soothingly over his back. “Sorry, sorry, just… dishy bloke like you, I can’t believe no one ever tried it before.” He grimaced at himself. “Right. Hell. Sorry. But if I’d known, I would’ve… I dunno, made it more special for you, maybe.”

Edwin cupped Charles’ cheek in his hand and stared him down. “Charles, you could not possibly have made this more special than it was. It was… oh, it was everything. And I would be very amenable to doing it again.” His cheeks coloured. “As long as you feel similarly, of course.”

“’Course,” said Charles. A stronger man than him couldn’t possibly have refused, and Charles was plenty content being a weak man for Edwin. “’Course, love. Anytime you want, for reals.”

They fell into another deep kiss, the edge of desperation sanded off, and all the more drugging for it. Afterwards, their foreheads rested together, and Charles resolved to commit every part of Edwin’s face to memory: his rumpled hair, falling over his forehead in waves; his heavy eyebrows and the lashes feathered over his cheeks; the fascinating line of his nose; his lips fuller and more bowed than you’d think, parting softly. It took Charles a long moment to connect this image to the voice in his ears, saying, “I love you.”

Edwin’s eyes flew open, staring at Charles in sheer panic, mouth still open from the unbelievable words he’d just uttered. Unable to resist, Charles kissed him, licked into his mouth, like the words’ sweet taste would linger there. Belatedly, still half-convinced he’d been the one to blurt it out first, Charles said, “I love you, too.”

This morning’s sunrise couldn’t hold a candle to Edwin’s face. Every single sunrise in the world combined couldn’t hope to. He was incandescent, Charles’ personal sun. Eyes overbright with tears, the corners of his lips trembling, half-smile, half-sob. “Oh, Charles. My darling. Are you sure?”

Charles hauled him closer, layered kiss after kiss over his glowing face, until Edwin was giggling and half-heartedly protesting. “Yeah,” said Charles. Smiled against Edwin’s forehead. “Yeah, love, you could say I’m dead certain.”

Notes:

and then edwin kills him for terrible pun crimes. the end <3