Haunt Me (So I Can Haunt U)

by WeHaveTheSameLeft

Summary:

Whoever this was was definitely an angel. With pale skin, perfectly coifed hair parted neatly to one side, a pair of thick eyebrows, a sharply pointed jaw, and large, gorgeous eyes that looked at him with genuine concern — yeah. There was no doubt about it to Charles's punch-drunk mind: this guy had to be Heaven sent.

Crouching down, looking over Charles with clear concern, he finally spoke. "I'm Edwin Pain, and I promise, I shan't harm you."

It took a moment for the name to click. This Brit was the Edwin Pain? The one Crystal had been going on about? The one the entire school seemed to fear and loathe in equal measure? Charles had to have been more out of it than he thought, because this didn't make a lick of sense. This guy couldn't be the monster from Haunt School!
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Welcome to Haunt School, better known as the Academy for the Dead and Supernaturally Gifted. It's a place for the most gifted of supernatural beings to converge, learn, and become the best--or worst--they can be! Charles Rowland has no desire to become anything exceptional, but the appearance of Edwin Payne might well change everything.

Chapter 1: The Ghost of You

It was a month into his third year of Haunt School, and Charles Rowland was already checked out of his studies. He had spent thirty years as a ghost after his untimely death at St. Hilarion's School for Boys, roaming the living world, periodically causing a bit of mischief, and once in a grand while helping another wayward soul cross over — but he'd only officially been accepted into the prestigious Academy for the Dead and Supernaturally Gifted's London Branch two years prior.

Charles hadn't even known about its existence until the Mailman had dropped off his official acceptance letter. An acceptance that made it patently clear attendance wasn't optional but required, lest they send a Reaper to claim his truant soul. Charles initially had little desire to return to some sort of school setting, given the circumstances surrounding his death, but luckily for him, the Academy had turned out to be surprisingly fun.

The prestigious school had been nothing like his time at St. Hil's. There were beings both dead and alive, creatures from all sorts of realms and supernatural states in attendance, as well as some of the most prestigious professors of magic, mischief, and mayhem all at the helm. There were lessons and courses to attend of all sorts—some practical, some terrifying, and others outlandish— but they were all there to help the students find their place in the supernatural community. Best of all, the school provided comfortable lodging for all attendees and staff, and as far as Charles found, their idea of comfort was far and away cushier than even he'd imagined. It was a fair bit fancier than the bouncing from place to place as he had been before his acceptance, and he felt as if he'd somehow won the afterlife lottery. According to the local London supernatural community, the Academy only accepted the best and the brightest.

How Charles wound up on that list was a mystery, but he was assured it wasn't a mistake. He had potential, and the Academy intended to see it flourish — or so the attending administrator at the front desk of the entrance to the Academy had explained.

Though Charles easily slid back into the academy routine, and surprisingly felt relatively safe within the magical walls, that wasn't to say the school didn't have its share of bullies and baddies. In fact, the Academy offered top-notch villainy courses, and seemed proud of the monsters whom had graduated and later gone down in infamy. They had a wall plastered with names and images of local legends and world-wide horrors.

Good or evil, Charles, of course, hadn't the patience or desire to become a someone— he enjoyed his unlife immensely and striving for academic excellence, even in supernatural school, wasn't entirely his style. Of course, his dorm neighbor and friend Crystal had encouraged him to push himself but it wasn't as easy as she claimed.

Sure, he had exceptional marks when it came to Poltergeisty, as well as Spectral Interactivity, Item & Artifact Manipulation, as well as Runework & Sigil Crafting — but he struggled when it came to Spellwork, Energy Manipulation, Transdimensional Travel, and a number of other rudimentary lessons. Crystal once called him hopeless when he'd screwed up so magnificently trying to enchant his backpack that he'd created a permanent pocket dimension within it. Fascinating as it was, he'd still ultimately failed the project! He had no ability to recreate the steps he'd so soundly fucked up, and hadn't bothered with jotting down his work while he'd been tinkering with the spell.

No, he had no interest in becoming a somebody at the Academy, and would skirt by just fine on his charm alone. Besides, it wasn't as if he could fail out of Haunt School anyway. The Academy simply wouldn't let them take new courses or move on in their academic advancements until they'd showed promise. Charles could take as long as he needed to pass, and knew there were plenty of students who had spent decades, if not longer, haunting the place — a right cozy setup if he'd ever heard of one. While he had no desire to become a long-hauler, he was going to take his time and enjoy himself. He had the rest of forever, after all, to figure out what came next.

All things considered, unlife was good…

In fact, everything in Charles's unlife was fine until he showed up.

Transfer students weren't particularly unusual for the London Academy. Most of the ghosts, spirits, goblins, and questionable creatures came from various corners of the globe, as well as other dimensions. There was almost always an influx of new bodies and souls, particularly during the beginning of a new quarter. However, very few came with as many rumors as this particular transfer did….

His name? Edwin Payne.

He was a fellow ghost, which Charles was chuffed to discover- always nice to have more ghostly representation, after all. He was, allegedly, incredibly clever and was rumored to have top-marks Academically speaking - things Charles was less chuffed about. What was most interesting, though, was the fact that he was to have come from the Hellfire and Brimstone branch of the Academy, which in itself was quite a feat. It was one of the smallest branches of the supernatural school, and also one of the most secretive. From what he understood, students didn't ever get transferred from Hell— but some of the worst of the worst could and often were transferred to it.

If stories were to be believed, those sent there never actually graduated from that place— and if they did, they were so utterly deformed, so changed, so broken, they weren't recognizable upon graduation. Hell changed the very souls that were sent there, the very magic that touched it… So how in the world did someone from that plane get transferred to the London Academy? It had to be a fluke or some sort of mistake. The majority of the Academy seemed to think it was a lie, an exaggeration, while the rest seemed to not to care about his origins so much as his raw power and potential. The local hellspawn were ready to dominate him in battle, while every slayer, hunter, and angelic being was equally eager to smite him.

Charles had little interest in getting in the middle of any of it if he could help it. Everyone painted such an out-of-the-world-experience of this hellborn spirit that he expected the ghost in question to stand seven feet tall, complete with pointy teeth, glowing eyes, and an aura made of pitch. Let others gossip — Charles didn't care one way or another about one more student. He had bigger things to worry about, like making up a failed enchantment assignment.

"That Edwin Payne is an insufferable ass!"

Charles looked up from where he was attempting to (unsuccessfully) add an enchantment to an iron dagger. It wasn't the sort of weapon he personally enjoyed working with, given the iron stung like a bitch anytime he accidentally touched the blade, but that's what the enchantment was for — to render it harmless against himself. He wasn't doing a particularly good job, so Crystal storming in and throwing herself down on his threadbare couch proved a convenient distraction. "That so?"

"First off, he looks absolutely nothing like they said he did," she pointed out, as if the rumors of him being insufferably handsome being untrue was a personal offense. "Secondly, I've never met someone more egotistical, arrogant, or self-centered as this prick! I think he wound up offending half the class, including Prof Mick!"

Charles gave a low chuckle. "Well, that's an accomplishment in and of itself, innit?" Crystal had always been a headstrong spitfire — she'd had to be, as one of the rare mortals invited to the school. It was something he admired about her, something that had drawn him to her immediate. While they'd had a bit of a wild summer fling his first year, as much as a ghost and mortal could share one, it had ended as explosively as it had begun. However, the two had remained close despite their romantic separation, and found themselves to be all the better friends for it.

Right now, though, his chummy replies to her clear aggravation weren't winning him any favors. "Cheer up, Crys," he attempted to mollify her, searching for something to say. "He's pro'lly nothing more than a flash-in-the-pan. He's got half-the-school out for his blood already, anyway— and that won't get any easier if he won't play nice."

The words felt a bit like ash on his tongue. While he personally didn't condone some of the hazing and (often literal) rituals that were known to happen within the walls of the Academy, it was also the uglier side of the supernatural community culture. As a ghost, Charles remained a bit of a neutral party — very few took issue or offense with a simple wandering spirit. But there were others that would hunt others for sport and in some cases, to the point of actual oblivion. Final Death was rare in the Academy but it did happen… and no amount of spells, enchantments, or magic could undo it. It was why the school tried to keep its students from killing one another when it could — while the second death of a supernatural being could often could be undone, it always risked true permanence.

Unfortunately, that didn't stop the Hunters from taking out a werewolf over lunch, or an angel from casting holy light on an unsuspecting demon. Alliances and rivalries ran deep in the supernatural world, and this poor Edwin fellow would need to integrate himself or risk complete alienation. No ghost could be an island, after all — especially in this place.

Crystal made a face, but she seemed to take comfort in the fact that Charles was more than likely right. "So long as I don't have to be anywhere near him outside of Advanced Enchantments or Spellweaving, that's just fine by me. Now, what new spell have you fucked up this time?" Her lips curled into a smile, her eyes bright. She rolled over to her side, peeking curiously at Charles, more than happy to take comfort in a little teasing. "You're not going to blow open another pocket dimension, are you?"

=====

Charles didn't know how prophetic his hastily spoken words would turn out to be. Unbeknownst to him, Edwin Payne had indeed managed to piss off the wrong people. From students to faculty, there were few who would give him quarter, much less stand up for him — not that he seemed to need anyone to play the white knight. From what Charles observed in the following weeks, there were plenty of individuals who wanted to see if they had what it took to take down the infamous transfer.

He heard stories through Crystal, whose grudge with the know-it-all-Edwin had only festered. Charles was more than happy to listen to her complaints, and did his best to cheer her up — but at the end of the day, Edwin Payne meant nothing to him. They shared no courses, he'd never once bumped into him in the halls, and when he periodically picked Crystal up from Spellweaving, he'd failed to see hide nor hair of the rotter.

So it was to no one's great surprise that Edwin Payne was the last being on his mind. Instead, Charles's thoughts were preoccupied with Poltergeisty, and the physical Assignment he'd been tasked to complete. He was to haunt a residence on a mortal plane for a night — and not just any mortal plane, but one that had great meaning to him personally. Due to his short life, this meant Charles had limited options. He had to choose between his family home, which he flat-out refused to step foot near, or the place where he died— St. Hilarion's Boarding School.

Of course he chose the latter.

Assignments were usually fun, and Charles was looking forward to it, despite having to step back into the very place that had betrayed him. It was a way for the Academy students to get real world experience in their work, and allowed them independence away from bookwork, spells, and memorization. It was also a way to test their experience with the curriculum. But Assignments could also be dangerous, and in some cases, deadly. Some were a breeze, others a challenge, but there was always risk when turning the students loose… Unlike the living world, though, if a student was obliterated, or lost to another dimension, well, that was just something that happened.

The afterlife moved on, and that was that.

In this case, Charles had been warned to cross-check the landscape before arrival. Research was important, even when it came to something as simple as a haunting, and his professors stressed caution. So it was absolutely no surprise that he didn't actually take the time to cross-check his location or its history of supernatural disturbances. He'd always known the school had its share of hauntings, even before he'd been killed. What else did he need to know?

Upon arrival to his old school, Charles immediately phased himself through a few classrooms, looking for a proper victim. He needed to spook someone, and if he could avoid lurking around the dorms and sleeping quarters, all the better. Surely, there was someone meandering the empty halls — always easier to terrorize someone alone than in a large group. Of course, by the time he found a class with life in it, it was already occupied by the supernatural. Hellbeasts were hanging around like they owned the place.

No matter. Charles could make this quick.

"Evening' lads," he greeted in his usual jaunty manner. There were three of them, each one lurking in a chosen shadowed corner of the classroom. The mortal that had drawn the lot of them was a janitor, who had just finished dumping out the classroom's trash. Perfect. He'd be in and out in a flash, and the boys could carry on whatever they were doing in the corners. "Don't mind me none," he noted breezily. "I'll be out of your hair before you know it. Check this out!" Might as well give them a show, right? He reached out to yank down a map of Greece that was hanging over a whiteboard only to let it loudly snap back up the wall and roll obnoxiously back into place. That ought to do it…

Unfortunately, while the janitor gave a bit of a start, he didn't truly spook. He didn't even curse. All he did was heave a sigh, and pull out a fresh trash bag from his cart. He shook it open with the air of a man who could do this in his sleep. Charles grimaced. There was no vitality, no spark, no joy behind his eyes — just the vapid acceptance of a soul going through the motions of life. As far as Charles could tell, it wasn't just this fella's work that was a chore, it was this man's entire life, and it seemed faulty maps weren't enough to get a rise out of him.

Charles, of course, had thought the map-and-snap was pretty clever, and his face fell with burgeoning disappointment. "Guess he needs a good ol' fashioned proper scare, yeah?" He spoke aloud, as if the hell beasts cared at all about his plight.

This time, Charles tossed a few papers off the nearby desk in a flourish. Surely, that was inspired, right? People hated when objects moved on their own or were kicked up in a flurry in an empty room. Not only was it super unnerving but it left a mess for them to clean up later! This would surely have to distress the poor janitor.

He stared, holding unneeded breath, waiting for some sort of shout of alarm, or maybe for the janitor to run out of the room entirely.

He was so focused on the mortal man that it was only by sheer chance that Charles caught a sudden flash of movement from the corner of his eye. One moment he was doing a piss-poor job trying to spook a man who had, quite frankly, seen too much in his life to give a damn about some resident ghost — and the next he was phasing through the classroom wall, as quick as he could bolt, a pack of hell beasts slavering after him.

What the fuck was going on? Why were they chasing him of all things? Surely, if they were going to tear anyone up in this school, it would be a mortal—wouldn't it? Unfortunately, he didn't have time to research hell beasts because he was too busy avoiding their teeth and claws!

"Oi! Fellas! No need for all this, yeah?" He tried to reason with the creatures, phasing through rows of desks, another whiteboard, another wall, and into another classroom. While the hell beasts couldn't phase through walls as a ghost could, they could hop through the shadows with ease — and given the late hour, with half the school closed down for the night, there were plentiful shadows for them to keep pace with Charles.

Mirror, mirror, mirror — all he had to do was find some sort of mirror and he could maybe get himself out of this jam … assuming he remembered how to mirror hop. The loo? Surely, there had to be one somewhere — but it had been over thirty years since he'd last been here, and the corridors and rooms were unfamiliar after all this time … especially with three beasts snapping at his heels. "Can't we work this out!?" Why were they being so bloody unreasonable!?

While Charles had no problem getting into a fight, three to one wasn't exactly fair odds, especially as he wasn't really sure what type of hell beasts these things were! Nor did he want to turn around and study them to find out. He wasn't an expert when it came to the flora and fauna of Hell and at this point, he didn't need to be some star student to know when he was in over his head.

Phasing through another wall, he gave a curse when one of the creatures was already in the room when he appeared. It lunged for him, even as he tried to throw himself out of the way. It almost worked. There was a sound of ripped cloth, followed by a sting along his shoulder that somehow felt worse than being burned by iron. He hissed in pain, but didn't slow down, this time bolting out of the room and into the hallway. Bad move, Rowland — fuck! Another one of the creatures managed to phase out of a shadow, tripping him as it body checked him. He had no time to save himself, no time to think, when the three monsters descended upon him.

So this was it.

His thoughts were surprisingly clear for someone about to meet such a wretched fate. It was strange really. So very few creatures could actually hurt a ghost, and yet here he was, getting beaten and torn into by three mindless, monsters. Thankfully, he was wearing plenty of layers— but his jacket was already in tatters, and the weight of the creatures ripping, pulling, tearing into him was a type of pain he'd forgotten he could feel. It was followed by some sort of crunch — how could that be? He was supposed to be incorporeal!

But Charles wasn't going to simply resign himself to this fate. He flailed beneath them as best he could, clawing, kicking, thrashing — a shame he'd left his backpack in his dorm in his haste to get this lesson over with, it would have come in handy. That was a mistake he wouldn't make twice….if he survived.

Fucking bullies. Fucking twats. Once again, here he was, getting his ass handed to him at St. Fucking Hilarion's. The irony wasn't lost on him for all that it dredged up plenty of uncomfortable memories he'd tried hard to bury. Instead of hell beasts, he remembered the faces of his so-called-friends; the racist assholes that had turned on him for trying to be good and decent. They'd overwhelmed him like this too, punching, kicking, stomping; his clothes had been torn, the taste of blood had welled up in his mouth, and then they had thrown him into the lake, only to cast stones, and laugh at his pain, his fear. Instead of being threatened by freezing water, he was now being threatened by hellfire… Why was he so cursed in this place? Why did he always wind up on the receiving end of others abuse? Fate sure had some fucking sense of humor, didn't it?

There was a tug, and he felt the floor beneath him begin to shift, begin to change. Oh fuck, fuck, fuck. If he wound up getting dragged to Hell, he'd absolutely never see the light of day again.

But then, a miracle.

Sort of.

The hallway lights switch on in a sudden bright, incredibly jarring fluorescent glow. The janitor! With little fanfare Charles watched as he rolled out his supply cart into the broad hallway, removing a wide broom that had been leaning haphazardly off its side. He was set to begin the unpleasant task of sweeping up the days dust, dirt, and grime, oblivious to what was happening to his earlier poltergeist not twenty feet in front of him.

The effect was immediate.

The three hell beasts gave a sharp shriek, throwing themselves back into the shadows of nearby darkened classroom door stoops. Charles was left a prone and bloodied mess but he was, much to his relief, suddenly free. He didn't have time to think, didn't have time to wonder — he took his shot. Stumbling to his feet, he phased through a set of lockers, another hallway, and down a set of stairs before found himself in what appeared to be a changing room of some sort.

Aces.

A small part of him wondered if the creatures he'd pissed off would leave him be now that he'd left. Could they track him? Would they even bother? Thankfully, there was a full sized mirror attached to the opposite wall — perfect! He ran straight at it, and hoped his mirror hopping was up to snuff. Usually he'd need a minute to find the coordinates, but he knew exactly where he had to go. Leaping through it, he'd hoped to return to the safety of the Academy or at least somewhere in its vicinity but instead, he was deposited back at the beginning of his quest — right up in the attic where he'd died.

"Bollocks," he groaned as he skidded to a halt, tripping over his tattered jacket, before simply collapsing near the far wall. He wouldn't get out of this lesson until he completed it successfully, so it seemed. No mirror hopping to a different location, no skirting the rules, and no cheating. Never mind he was dealing with a bunch of depraved creatures who had turned out to be an actual risk! No back pack, no iron dagger… and no matter how he tried to will his injuries away, it wasn't working. Even trying to change his clothes — it was like the hellspawn had made him temporarily mortal.

To make it worse, he couldn't have been more than ten feet from where he'd succumbed to his injuries thirty years prior. The thought hit him hard, and he found himself crawling closer to the wall, hugging his blood-stained jacket closer to him. He had to think — how was he going to get out of this jam? He might have bought himself some time, might be able to find something of use amid all this junk that could harm one of these things… Some sort of spell, some sort of…anything….

Then he heard it.

Scrabbling. Scratching. Snarling. Fuck. They were back. They were here. And honestly, Charles had no fucking idea what else to do. The shadows seemed to grow darker, unnaturally so, even as the ground he sat upon began to shift, to change. "I'm not fucking around," he snarled, though it came out more as a pissed off and pained groan. Yeah, he could talk a big game. That'll surely help. Trying to push himself up to his feet, about all he managed was to sway, before his legs gave out on him.

Bloody useless.

The shadows were beginning to close in on him. He could feel a fear, a terror begin to surround him. It wasn't even his own — so potent was it, so full of unrelenting agony and despair, he found it choking the very breath out of him. Breath a ghost didn't even need. One of the beasts lunged forward, jaw open, teeth bared — and this time, Charles did flinch.

But the pain he expected didn't come.

Instead, a golden light broke forth, blinding in its brightness. Charles had to duck his head to avoid the light stinging his eyes, but he immediately felt a change in the atmosphere of the attic. To start, instead of feeling like he was beginning to sink into another dimension, he was back to being settled firmly on the wooden floor. The encompassing, oppressive pain, fear, and terror dissipated, and while he heard the snarling and gnashing of teeth—the hellspawn—he could hear them being driven off.

"Quinti Circuli iussu, per sanguinem et dolorem, hunc spiritum errantem tamquam meum vindico!" Was that … Latin? Charles blinked a few times, squinting through the damnable light. Why did it always come back to Latin? "Abi! Te ad Magnas Tenebras, unde venisti, repello!" And just like that, the three creatures were consumed by the very shadows they took solace in.

The silence within the attic was deafening.

As soon as the beasts were gone, the harsh glowlight immediately dimmed. Instead of being painfully bright, it took on a warm golden glow that was as inviting as it was comforting. Lowering his arm, he blinked a few times, and realized the light was coming from a simple looking lantern — one that was being held by a tall, prim-and-proper, fit sort of chap. A witch? A mage? An angel?

Charles tried to move, but found his limbs extraordinarily heavy. Oi, he felt…. terrible, quite frankly. Now that he wasn't running off adrenaline, he could feel the aches and pains that those creatures had inflicted upon him. His back stung, his wrist looked as if it were broken, there was blood pooling around him, and there was something coppery in the back of his throat. Ghosts weren't supposed to bleed and yet here he was… Swollen, bruised, and torn to pieces. He wanted to thank whoever-this-was, wanted to say anything, but all he managed to do was groan.

The stranger turned to face him, and if Charles could have gasped he would have done so. Whoever this was was definitely an angel. With pale skin, perfectly coifed hair parted neatly to one side, a pair of thick eyebrows, a sharply pointed jaw, and large, gorgeous eyes that looked at him with genuine concern — yeah. There was no doubt about it to Charles's punch-drunk mind: this guy had to be Heaven sent.

Crouching down, looking over Charles with clear concern, he finally spoke. "I'm Edwin Pain, and I promise, I shan't harm you."

It took a moment for the name to click. This Brit was the Edwin Pain? The one Crystal had been going on about? The one the entire school seemed to fear and loathe in equal measure? Charles had to have been more out of it than he thought, because this didn't make a lick of sense. This guy couldn't be the monster from Haunt School.

Still, he didn't to be rude, even when he was certainly flirting with near oblivion. He gave him his brightest and gummiest smile, head flopping to the side. "Charles," he introduced himself, albeit a bit sluggishly. Of course, his smile suddenly waned, and he looked down at himself. Oops. "Sorry for the mess, mate," he immediately apologized, realizing that the poor sod was probably getting his fancy boots stained with ghost-blood. Even if Edwin could clean himself up with just a thought, it was still plenty rude to bleed out on a near stranger.

Particularly a stranger who just saved his unlife.

Edwin arched a brow in surprise at the unprompted apology, before giving a small, dismissive, shake of his head. When he did speak, his words were surprisingly gentle. "Keep still, now. I've a spell to help stabilize your unfortunate condition." Without waiting for an answer, Edwin willed away his gloves, exposing his hands to the mess that was Charles. One of his long fingers reached out to make a series of marks in none other than the blood that was currently staining the attic floor. Charles's blood.

Edwin then began using it as if it was nothing more than acrylic paint or ink. He drew a couple more unfamiliar but complicated sigils around Charles with it, spoke a few words under his breath in a language that sounded unlike anything Charles had ever heard before, before Charles was hit with a foreign feeling: relief. The pain he'd felt immediately lessened considerably, and he watched with satisfaction as some of his wounds finally began to dissipate. The sheer exhaustion he'd felt as he'd flirted with oblivion was swept away by a wave of renewed energy. "That's brills, mate," he spoke, his gratitude real.

Should he be alarmed that it was clearly some form of blood magic at work? Maybe. But he also figured this fellow came from Hell. Maybe using blood was as normal to him as using ink and graphite was to Charles or maybe, particularity in this case, it was the only thing he had on hand. Regardless, Charles wasn't going to question it because he felt world's away better. He made a move to roll himself to his feet, but Edwin's hand reached out, pushing him firmly back down. "I would wait a tick before exerting yourself," he explained. "You still look quite peaky for a ghost."

Charles gave a small grunt of acknowledgment. "Sure, thing, mate," he assured. This guy clearly knew best, after all. Of course, sitting still didn't mean he was going to do so quietly, especially now that he was feeling better and better with every passing minute. "So what's a bloke like you doing round here? Real lucky break you found me when you did, yeah?" He was truly in his debt for saving his skin.

Edwin looked pleased that Charles wasn't fighting his instructions, though he did quickly rephase a set of clean gloves back upon his hands. He looked around, brows knitting in discomfort, before schooling his features as he turned back towards Charles. "I once was a student here," he confessed matter-of-factually.

"No shit," Charles exclaimed, smiling brightly as Edwin pursed his lips defensively. "Small world, mate — me too!"

Edwin grimaced. "I'm afraid my time here was well before your own, and quite unpleasant." The tone of his words, the way his shoulders tensed, was a curious thing for Charles to behold. Almost like Edwin was preparing himself for disappointment.

Charles's smile never wavered. "Did anyone actually have a pleasant time here besides the old-money, obscenely rich wankers?"

Edwin's lips twitched in what might have been an attempt to smother a smile. "I suppose not— though for the record, you could classify me as one of those 'old-money, obscenely rich wankers'." There was the slightest hesitation in his words, each one prim and proper. If his words weren't so kind, it could have come off as a biting reproach — but there was a twinkle in the others eyes, a small crease in the corner of his eyes where he was holding back a smile.

Laughter erupted from Charles, and he shook his head. The way he parroted his commentary in that disgustingly adorable posh accent was genuinely delightful. Part of him wondered what else he could get those pretty lips to say. How could Crystal not like this guy? How could the Academy be put off by him? "Well, there's always one outlier, right?"

Edwin's brows knit for just a moment, his countenance suddenly becoming neutral and impossible to read. Whatever moment of pleasure he'd gotten from their banter had faded. Fuck. Charles hadn't meant to say the wrong thing. Edwin, of course, gave no time for him to reply. He simply made a non-committal sort of hum, before rising to his feet. "Why not test your strength?" For a moment it looked as if he might offer Charles a hand, but instead, he let it hover awkwardly in front of him, before returning primly to his side.

Thankfully, Charles was able to pull himself up with relative ease. He managed to will himself a new set of clothes as well as will away the bloody pool on the floor. The sigils Edwin had made stubbornly remained, but Charles assumed Edwin would clear them in time. While he couldn't seem to will away his injuries, he did notice they were already well on their way of healing. All things considered, he felt pretty good. "Seem to be no worse for wear," he noted breezily. "What sort o' spell was that, anyway?"

Edwin looked Charles over with a discerning eye. "A helpful one," he answered curtly, which told Charles he should probably mind his own business. Not every spellcrafter shared spells, after all, and judging from the shape of the markings on the floor, he was certain they were dubious in origin. Well. Didn't bother Charles none — a good spell was a good spell, even if it was a little evil.

If Edwin thought Charles would be put off by his reply, though, he was sadly mistaken. "So — where we headed next?"

Edwin's eyebrows widened for just a moment, before he gave a little tut and turned primly on his heel. His arms swing at his side. "We're not headed anywhere. You may carry on with whatever tomfoolery had you upsetting a pack of infernal butchers, and I shall carry on with my investigation." Edwin's voice would brook no argument. He seemed to expect Charles to simply abide by what he had to say. It was clear to Charles that Edwin was accustomed to getting his way, and the very tone of his haughty voice was just this side of condescending. As if Charles were a fool to think otherwise.

Well, Charles did think otherwise. "Aww, don't be like that," he countered warmly. As if he hadn't been turned out. "I know it doesn't seem like it, but I'm real handy in a pinch! An investigation sounds world's better than my assignment, anyway." he added, hoping Edwin might hear the sincerity in his words. And if that didn't work, he did quickly add, "Sides which, I can't leave. Least not until I've finished giving someone a proper scare, right? No sense in parting ways so soon." If he sounded overeager, he couldn't help it. He was curious about Edwin, wanted to better get to know him. Crystal thought him a stuck-up bitch, but Charles wasn't so convinced.

Edwin frowned, eyebrows knit, a small crease forming between them. Giving a small huff, he once again attempted to dissuade him. "I doubt very much your particular skill set will be needed. While I," and here Edwin seemed to force the word, "appreciate the offer, it is much too risky. It would be best for all if you stay out of my way."

Charles would do no such thing. "Put me to work! Whatever you need, mate, I'm your man." As if to prove himself, he reached over and picked up the glowing lantern, holding it up in hopes of lighting Edwin's way. He smiled his most charming smile. "We run into any of those shadow things, you can take 'em out. But uh… anything else, and I can manage! Here! Won't be caught off guard this time, will I?" Covered in a layer of dust and cobwebs, long forgotten and clearly discarded, was an old cricket bat. He reached over and picked it up, giving it a flourishing twirl in hope of selling himself as half-way competent.

Edwin look nonplussed and terribly unimpressed. "Charles," and the way he spoke the words sounded pained, almost regretful. Surely, that meant he was beginning to fold. "I am not good with people."

"Lucky for you, I'm aces with them," Charles quipped, brown eyes hopeful and eager. This time, it was his time to push and dig in his heels. He continued to beam up at the stranger, hopeful, expectant, and determined. Edwin's mouth pulled into a grimace, before he gave a loud, audible sigh of deaf. "Looks like you're stuck with me, mate, cause I'm not going anywhere."

Notes:

Super appreciate if you managed to get this far -- comments and kudos are certainly loved. Let me know if you like it, because there's quite a bit more to go!

As a side note: this is my very first piece of fanfiction ever, so please be gentle...or at least a little forgiving! I still don't really know what I'm doing, haha.... Also, lots of love to the DBDA Haunt Server for being so encouraging, friendly, and all around a great community fandom.

This chapter title is based off the My Chemical Romance song title "The Ghost of You".

Thanks again for taking the time to read! I hope you all have a lovely day! <3

Chapter 2: I Can't Hide From You Like I Hide From Myself

Summary:

"So… we good then?" Charles rocked on his heels, his smile wavering for just a moment as he looked at Edwin. Like he was actually concerned about the answer.

How on earth did a ghost manage to look so damnably endearing? Edwin could already tell he was in trouble. He had fought devils, demons, hellspawn, and the most cruel and callous of beings; he had been hardened by almost a century of unspeakable horrors; had been punished, violated, and torn to pieces for decades. He understood those things. He was accustomed to such cruelty and knew how to withstand it. But having to facedown Charles Rowland, with his dark curls framing the prettiest brown eyes he'd ever seen and a smile that could light up a room?

Edwin was utterly defenseless.

---
In which, Edwin has some thoughts about this messy interloper interrupting everything he's ever known.

It had been two weeks since Edwin had unexpectedly come across Charles Rowland in spectral distress at St. Hilarion's. Edwin had absolutely no choice but to get involved — he wasn't about to let some innocent soul get pulled into Hell, much less face an eternity of agony simply because it was inconvenient to his investigation. Of course, dismissing a Hell Beast wasn't as simple as scaring off a feral cat or exorcising a demon from a mortal host. Those particular denizens shouldn't have even been allowed to lurk on the mortal plane, much less in St. Hilarion's — and yet, there was an entire sub-pack of them on the hunt. within those dusty halls.

Poor Charles hadn't known or understood just how close he had come to facing eternal damnation. There had been no time to set up a proper cleansing circle or banishment ritual; no time to go about the rescue of the stranger's soul properly. Instead, Edwin had no choice but to tap into the infernal knowledge and power that he'd been forced to wield during his time in Hell. For over seventy years he'd been tormented by the denizens of Hell, sold from the demon Sa'al, to the Earl Murmur, before he was ultimately traded to the Duke Dantalion. He'd been dragged through the various Circles, tortured in every way imaginable for simple entertainment, spent decades in the Dollhouse as spider food, and had been ripped up and fed on in a seemingly endless loop. It was only the past thirty odd years he'd gathered enough information and siphoned enough infernal power to begin to truly fight back.

It hadn't been easy. The infernal magic hurt in a way he couldn't properly explain. It was foreign, unnatural, and each use twisted and scarred his soul just a little more. Every spell left him just a little more corrupt than he used to be, but what else was he to do? There would be no one to rescue him; no end to his pain, to his grief, to his horror, to his fear. He had been sent there on a technicality — but Edwin believed he was meant to be there. He had been shameful. He had been different. He had been born wrong on a fundamental level. Furthermore, he'd brought his family embarrassment; he'd brought shame upon himself; and he was convinced that he deserved the eternity of agony.

If this was his afterlife, if he were already damned due to his natural proclivities— proclivities that no amount of hellfire and brimstone could cleanse him of—- then he might as well shroud himself with the infernal and try to make the best of his situation. He wasn't joining him to relish hurt and torment… but it felt it was the only way to save himself. Certainly, the gods didn't see fit to intervene. Instead, he would try to fight back, try to escape his prison, try to… make something better of his life. What was the worst that would happen? He'd be punished further? They'd torment him in some new way? He'd be tormented and killed? All of that was just another Tuesday night. No, embracing infernal magic, using blood rituals, memorizing hexes— it was worth the risk.

So, Edwin Payne began to give in to all that depravity. What choice did he have? He'd tried countless times to escape, but it was all for naught. One didn't simply walk out of Hell though by the gods did he try! Sometimes Edwin even thought he got close. He'd detailed every pitfall, every door, every trap in between the endless pain, anguish, and punishment he received. After what felt like eons, he'd tried a different tactic, and attempted to play by their rules (of which there were none). Thankfully, reputation was everything when it came to Hell and Edwin Payne began to cultivate one. The things he did, the secrets he learned, the infernal magic he stole… With every success in that dark place, shame had welled up within him, disgust, horror at his actions and yet… he had run out of options and simply accepting his eternal afterlife of horror and pain wasn't something he could do.

He refused to accept his lot.

He didn't belong down here.

He most certainly hadn't been a monster when he'd first entered Hell, but part of him wondered if he'd become one by the time he'd left.

However, he couldn't worry about that. Leaning into the infernal arts had allowed him to change, to grow. He was the first mortal sacrifice to be accepted into the Nine Circles branch of the Academy but even that didn't guarantee him freedom. It took another decade of appeals, power, bribery, horror, agony, blood, sweat, and tears to finally—finally—get recognized as a student of interest.

And then, one day, it happened. His request to transfer branches was suddenly approved.

Freedom.

Or at least as close to freedom as Edwin would ever be granted. He was allowed, with restriction, to further his studies at the London Branch. Of course, it wasn't a permanent solution, but it was progress. He could work with this. For the first time in over a hundred years, he would be free from hell. No more pain, no more torment, no more daily horrors; no more playing power games, no more having to stay one step ahead of his enemies — and yes, everyone in Hell was an enemy. There were no such things as alliances, no such thing as friendships; kindness didn't exist, for all that there were plenty of beings who could smile and charm and trick.

A spirit learned quickly that the only one he could depend upon was himself—and even then, Edwin knew he was as vile and putrid, blasphemous and shameful as any of them. He'd been born wrong… and no matter how he'd tried to hide it, refused to acknowledge it, and fought to deny his interest— the bullies of St. Hilarion's had somehow known. They had sniffed it out like a fox might a hen and they had made his life at the school miserable. But then, Edwin was accustomed to such a life, wasn't he? His home had been cold; his schooling had been cruel; and his eternity damned.

Edwin had spent so much of both his life and unlife alone that isolation came naturally to him. He expected his unlife at the London Academy to be much the same. So it was with great perplexity and uncertainty that he found he'd picked up a stray.

Charles had refused to leave Edwin alone to investigate St. Hil's — and had even, much to his surprise, expressed legitimate interest in the case. He had found himself explaining why he was there and what he had specifically been after. Together, with Charles in tow, Edwin had managed to take samples of both ancient and more recent portal disruptions on the premises— small tears in space from ritual summoning, or other supernatural occurrences. It was nothing more than a start — proof that something might be amiss.

Where Edwin had thought Charles might find his commentary and explanations boring, he'd instead found someone keenly interested in seemingly everything he had to say. Furthermore, Charles had kept his word in being the brawn between the two of them: while they hadn't run into any further hellbeasts, Charles had verbally threatened a few of the more irritable rodents whose sanctuaries had been disturbed by their exploration.

By the time the night had finished, Edwin found himself satisfied with his research, and Charles had managed to spook a few students. They parted ways, and Edwin had allowed himself to be pleased by the turn of events if not, perhaps, relieved that he would most likely not be running into Charles Rowland a second time.

Charles would be nothing but a distraction. A surprisingly cute one, at that.

Good things didn't happen to Edwin Payne, which is why he couldn't help but be taken aback by Charles Rowland's almost daily presence. Unfortunately, the dark-haired ghost had taken some sort of shine to him, and had sought him out the next night to ask if he needed any further assistance with any other project. Edwin, a mix of baffled and stupidly charmed, turned him down flat. That should have been the end of it.

It was not.

Charles continued to show up every night there after, asking if he was going back to St. Hil's for more samples; asking him if he had any more interesting studies he could assist him with; asking how he was settling in; asking, asking, asking! It had been one thing to help Charles in the heat of the moment at St. Hilarion's — but Edwin didn't do friendship. He had never been particularly good at navigating social cues and scenarios back when he was alive, and friendship didn't exist in his prior Academy much less the bowels of Hell.

But Charles was damnably persistent.

Edwin supposed he could appreciate his inquisitive mind, as well as his interest in his studies. It was the first time in a long time Edwin felt seen without immediate judgment, and the genuine warmth the dark-skinned ghost exuded was surprisingly refreshing to be around. But Edwin didn't trust it, and he certainly didn't trust Charles — no one could be that sunny, that chipper, that good. There had to be some sort of angle. No matter how curt, brusque, and downright surly he acted, Charles never seemed to take it personally —and Edwin was even more surprised that Charles never snarled or snapped back. He might try to plead his case, or call Edwin out on his manners, but he never threatened, snarled, or responded with cruelty in kind.

Every day, this dark-haired ghost would crop up, check-in on him, try to find some excuse to linger, and every day, Edwin would continue deny him.

"Come on, mate. Us ghosts have to stick together, right?" Charles's latest plea had Edwin rolling his eyes.

"Really, Charles, there are plenty of other ghosts in this Academy you can seek out," Edwin dismissed with a little sniff. "Ghosts that, I'm certain, would be far more receptive to your dogged attention."

Charles only smiled brightly at him. "Maybe so, but someone's gotta be the welcome wagon, yeah? You're new, right? Don't ever see you hanging around anyone else." He leaned forward on the balls of his feet, leaning just a little into the doorframe, giving a cursory peek around the parts of Edwin's room he could see.

Edwin narrowed his eyes with suspicion, lips pursed. "What do you mean 'see me'? Have you been keeping tabs on me? For what purpose, Charles, I demand to know!" His words were waspish, accusatory, and just this side of vindicated. He knew it! Everyone had an angle — now the truth would come out!

"Whoa, whoa, easy, mate!" Charles's eyes went wide in surprise, and he lifted his hands up defensively. He did take a pointed step back, as if to give Edwin more space. "Nothing like that, promise — just in passing! Sides which, one of my friends has a class with you, and I stop by now and again when we've plans after. Kind of hard not to… not to see everyone exiting, ya know?" He gave a small, self-conscious chuckle, but his brown eyes remained warm and surprisingly kind. His words were soft, as if he were trying to soothe some wounded and feral animal.

Edwin wanted to be offended by such suspicious and careful treatment, but he also had to remind himself that this wasn't Hell. This wasn't even St. Hilarion's and, if he looked at himself in a mirror, he'd see that he was acting like a standoffish brute. Hardly the qualities of an Edwardian gentleman.

For a long moment Edwin stared down his nose at Charles, processing everything he'd been told before he softened his own expression. "I see," he finally spoke. He would not apologize for his assumption — but he did begin to wonder if it might not be beneficial to have at least one connection at the Academy. Even Hell wasn't without alliances, after all, though they often turned into bloody, messy affairs. Perhaps he could study Charles, use him to better acclimate himself to his new unlife. Hadn't this been what he wanted, after all? To escape Hell? To be anywhere else but trapped in that awful place? Granted, he was only on borrowed time, but he was here to do as much good as he could. Would it not be advantageous to his appeal for leniency if he could prove he was not some monster? He had thought his work and his studies would be enough… But would it hurt to branch out a little more?

Charles had been kind to him from the very start. Charles was still being kind to him, despite the many times he'd told him off. Edwin did not deserve such kindness, and yet it was freely given— never mind that he still thought it a form of manipulation and trickery. So long as he expected betrayal it wasn't as if he would get hurt — in fact, it was more likely that Charles's interest would peter out as soon as he was given what he wanted. He'd no longer be the friendless anomaly, he'd no longer have something unobtainable to pursue, and Edwin's peculiarities would sour him to the reality of the experience.

It would be just like his days at St. Hil's all over again.

"So… we good then?" Charles rocked on his heels, his smile wavering for just a moment as he looked at Edwin. Like he was actually concerned about the answer.

How on earth did a ghost manage to look so damnably endearing? Edwin could already tell he was in trouble. He had fought devils, demons, hellspawn, and the most cruel and callous of beings; he had been hardened by almost a century of unspeakable horrors; had been punished, violated, and torn to pieces for decades. He understood those things. He was accustomed to such cruelty and knew how to withstand it. But having to facedown Charles Rowland, with his dark curls framing the prettiest brown eyes he'd ever seen and a smile that could light up a room?

Edwin was utterly defenseless.

"I suppose we are," he slowly agreed, as if he didn't quite believe it. Releasing the edge of the door, he pivoted on his heel and walked pointedly back into his room. This time, he didn't slam the door in his face. "Come along, Charles — I won't have you dilly-dallying about in the stoop of my door, thank you." While he didn't particularly like nosy ghosts in his space, he also had absolutely no desire to leave his space. Most of his work was here, after all, and he had wards up with enough strength to ensure it was quite a safe place for Edwin. Sitting down behind his desk, he saw Charles staring, mouth slightly agape, as if he were still processing this sudden change. "Spit-spot!"

That seemed to do the trick.

Charles immediately lurched forward, stepping into the small room as he closed the door behind him. Edwin watched his every move, muscles tensed, prepared for something—anything—to change. Would he turn on him? Would he cast some spell now that he had him cornered? Would he try to tear him limb from limb? Would he try to accost him? Humiliate him? Torture him? His mind flew through a thousand scenarios, as well as a thousand responses to those scenarios.

"Nice place you've got," Charles complimented, giving a slow spin as he took in the space.

Edwin said nothing.

Was this it? Was Charles truly here for a social call?

Looking around the room, he realized there was no real place for Charles to sit. His bed, which he had no need of, had turned into a makeshift shelf, covered in various scrolls, maps, journals, and piles of books. He could offer him his chair, but then Edwin would need to hover and, quite frankly, he didn't want to give it up. It was his. Perhaps it was just as well. Surely, Charles wouldn't wish to linger long if he were uncomfortable. Yes. Perfect. This might work to out his advantage after all. "It is a standard issued dorm room, Charles, hardly anything impressive." Never mind that it was, for the first time in a very long time, an actual safe place for Edwin.

Well, as safe as he could make it.

The walls were covered in various spell work, helping keep the space free from unwanted guests, visitors, or infernal beings as best Edwin were able. The fact he'd allowed Charles entrance was peculiar, but the sooner the other ghost realized he wouldn't make this alliance easy, the sooner he'd give up on his cause.

Charles, of course, gave him a lopsided grin. "S'all cozy like. All these yours? Sure they didn't mistakenly assign you to the library?" He reached over to pick up a random grimoire that was sitting on top of a stack of various books and tomes.

"Very funny," Edwin stated, rolling his eyes. "Now that you're here… what do you want?" He sat forward in his desk, looking up at Charles with his usual haughty and defiant expression. Clearly, he wanted something from him. Power? Secrets? Spells? The ghost kept dogging him to be friends, but there must be a reason for it—nobody would ever simply choose to cozy up to him without an ulterior motive. Not him. He'd once been the son expected to carry on the family lineage and business, a tool meant for prosperity and greatness and an ultimate disappointment and let down; the boys at St. Hil's had used him as a scapegoat and whipping boy, mocking him, bullying him for their own amusement; and Hell? He was nothing in Hell. Nothing but another soul to be used, broken, and tormented. So what would he be to Charles? Edwin wasn't sure he wanted to know.

Charles gave another chuckle, shrugging his shoulders. He put down the grimoire he'd been paging through, only to saunter closer. Much to Edwin's surprise and, perhaps, panic, the ghost sat down on the edge of his desk. He gave a long, languid stretch, and seemed to make himself right at home on his chosen perch. "To hang out? Talk? I can show you 'round the campus if you'd like — when's the last time you've eaten, eh, mate? Do ghosts eat in Hell? Can they eat? Er, I mean…anyway, there's a spot here that serves ghost-friendly dishes that aren't too bad. Less sand, more flavor… Usually."

Edwin wondered if perhaps a miscalculation hadn't been made. Pressing his fingers together, he gave a small shake of his head. "I have no interest in eating, thank you." Yeah, he was going to shoot that offer down immediately. Even if he had missed the concept of food—which he absolutely did not—after having witnessed the Circle of Gluttony countless times, he had absolutely no desire to be around food of any sort for any reason, and certainly not because some ghost asked.

Charles would have to do better than that if he wanted Edwin to eat.

"Furthermore, I'm quite capable of understanding the layout of the Academy thanks to my powers of observation as well as something called a map. Perhaps you've heard of such a thing?"

Charles gave a grin, not at all put off by his snark. "I don't give this tour to just anyone," he teased, trying to sweeten the deal, as if it were something special. Maybe it was. "I know all sorts of places that pro'lly aren't on that boring ol' map of yours."

Edwin frowned. "And yet, I shall take my chances with ignorance." Edwin fully expected Charles to give up on this ridiculous endeavor any moment but once again, Charles remained. His smile never seemed to waver, nor the warmth that radiated off him, akin to the welcoming heat of the sun on a particularly cold day. It was wholly disconcerting.

"A smart chap like you? I think you're just delaying the inevitable."

Edwin huffed, entirely out of his element around such friendliness. "And I don't think you understand when you're being turned down."

Edwin honestly didn't know what to do. Conversation didn't come easily to him, though Charles didn't seem to mind chatting him up like they were close friends. Edwin might have been clever, but he wasn't good in these sorts of situations and social scenarios. He didn't do small talk. He didn't play host. He read, he studied, he prepared — none of which could be done with Charles in his space. Well, none of which he could do as efficiently.

Well, he wasn't going to just sit here and do nothing, even if Charles was hovering. If Charles wanted to be in his space, then he could experience everything Edwin did in real time. Let boredom drive him away—it was guaranteed to work.

Reaching over, he picked up a thick volume of Transdimensional Beings & Their Native Habitats: Volume IV. He opened it to the place he had marked, before taking out his trusty gold pen and notebook from the inside pocket of his jacket, and began to quietly read.

"So what class is this for? Must be pretty high level, yeah?"

Edwin said nothing for a moment, wondering if he could feign absorption in his book. Unfortunately, he found himself answering. "Hardly. This is simply a bit of light reading for my own interest."

He could practically hear the face Charles pulled. "Light reading, huh? Sounds brills," except they both were aware that it didn't sound brills at all — at least not to Charles.

Edwin's lips curled into a smile despite himself. "If you'd rather do something else, then I suggest you go elsewhere."

Much to his surprise, Charles simply smiled. "Nah, mate. I'm just happy to be here."

Why, Edwin couldn't even begin to guess.

Notes:

Title are lines from the song "True Blue" by Boygenius

- - -

Sorry that this chapter was a little more introspective than action packed. There will be more interesting things to come, promise! <3 Thanks everyone who has given this fic a chance -- we've got fun things ahead, I promise.

Kudos and comments are always, always, welcome and loved.

Chapter 3: There's Something Dancing Here in the Shadows (And I Wish It Were Us)

Summary:

"That's an awful lot of books, mate. Are they all for one class or is this simply some light reading?" His words were said in jest, something he hoped Edwin might understand by the way he smiled cheekily at him.

"I don't see how it concerns you," Edwin replied, once again, shutting Charles down.

That was fine. Charles would be patient. Crystal certainly had no interest in warming up to Edwin, and if whoever Edwin had been hanging around earlier was in any way indicative of how his usual interactions went, then Charles could easily understand his irritability. It seemed every place had its share of bullies and assholes. "Just being friendly, mate," he assured, not at all put off. "Did you need a hand? Cause I've got just the thing to help..."

===
Charles continues to try buddying up with Edwin Payne. It seems to be a little trickier than he thought....

Edwin was not the easiest person to get to know but Charles was well and truly determined to do it. Even after the monumental breakthrough of Edwin inviting him into his dorm room, it wasn't as if the other ghost suddenly welcomed him with open arms. No, everyday thereafter was a fight just getting Edwin to open up— and he didn't even emotionally, but just to get him to open his dorm room door! But the herculean effort was worth it. Edwin was smart, surprisingly kind, and his snark was as funny as it was sharp. He was also bloody well fit.

Crystal , of course, had lost it when she found who he'd been trying to befriend. Aat first she thought he'd been spending time chasing some skirt, but when he mentioned Edwin, she couldn't believe it. "He's an arrogant, know-it-all snob, Charles. Why would you waste time on someone like him!?"

"Everyone needs a friend, yeah?"

Crystal looked utterly exasperated. "He's from Hell, Charles. Hell. You did learn about that realm, didn't you, and all the warnings that come with associating with their ilk?"

Charles gave a hurried shake of his head . "No, no, it's not like that! He's not actual Hellspawn and he doesn't seem like the type to have been sent there for doing something, ya know, bloody awful."

Crystal didn't seem wholly (or even partially) convinced. Instead, she heaved a sigh and seemed to count to ten. "Just because he doesn't seem like the type doesn't mean he wasn't sent there for a reason, Charles." She at least sounded gentler in her judgment, though it wasn't enough to convince him to give up on poor Edwin.

"Come on. It's not as if the school is particularly concerned about whether someone's good or evil, hell-bound or heaven-sent," he countered, feeling as if he needed to defend his new friend. He might not know the details but surely someone who rescued him from near catastrophe couldn't be bad. "Besides, he really helped me out of a jam, ya know? Would've been real easy for him to simply let me have it, and he didn't. Doesn't sound like something someone who wasn't a good bloke would do!"

This time the medium scoffed. "Honestly, he probably should have let you have it if I thought it would have taught you anything," she countered, though her words were said in jest. He knew she would have been devastated if he'd actually been hurt or worse— and she would have done everything in her power to get him back. She was a good sort of lass, after all. "I heard about your little encounter, Charles. How on earth did you overlook the signs of Infernal contamination?"

Charles rolled his eyes and avoided her accusatory gaze. "Yeah, yeah, I know— not my finest hour, was it?" He wasn't going to admit that he hadn't overlooked it, he'd never bothered to check in the first place. The chances of encountering that level of breach was impossibly low so he figured it wasn't something to he needed to worry about. And even when he had encountered the wallhuggers, while they hadn't exactly looked like a friendly lot, he had assumed they were also there on some sort of assignment — not wild, feral, and ready to hunt down a ghost. "So what if I rushed in, interrupted some sort of hunt, and needed some saving. It's fine. Made it back in one piece, didn't I?"

"You're utterly incorrigible!" Crystal complained, throwing her hands up in the air and stomping away. She then whirled on her heel, only to stomp right back and poke him in the chest. It didn't feel like anything, but he could tell there was force behind it. "Just be more careful and less of an actual idiot, okay? You might be a ghost, but that doesn't mean you still can't get hurt, or worse."

The care that colored her words, the genuine concern, touched him. He wasn't used to others being worried about his well-being: not in life, and certainly not in death. It was far too easy to forget that he mattered and that any consequences of his impetuous behavior might affect others. Swallowing hard, trying to ignore the sudden burn behind his eyes, he leaned over and nudged her with his shoulder. He purposefully said nothing, not trusting his voice not to give away the sudden wellspring of emotion threatening to spill out and have him blubbering.

Crystal slipped her arm around his waist, giving him a little side squeeze. Charles was about to suggest a study session, when Crystal broke the silence. "All right. Fine,, whatever," she mumbled, words surprisingly pained. "Since you're sure he saved your life, I… I guess I'll try to keep a more open mind about… Edwin." She all but groaned his name, as if just the mention of it made her physically sick. However, she did turn a sharp eye on Charles, her lips pursed. "But if he even thinks of laying a finger on you, or hurts you in any sort of fashion, I won't hesitate to send that fucker right back where he came from, Final Death be damned."

Charles was blown away.

He didn't expect her to approve of his burgeoning friendship — and yes, damnit, they were going to be friends, whether Edwin wanted it or not!— but once again, he was thoroughly touched. Charles couldn't help but beam. "I'll be sure to let him know what he's getting into," he assured, as if Crystal's threats were concerning enough to keep him safe around the stranger. While Charles didn't want to get hurt, and he highly doubted Edwin would actually do so, another part of him found he fancied the idea of having those elegant fingers all over him and him alone.

Something he could (and would) think about in great detail later when he was well and truly alone.

===

A few days later, Charles found himself in the back of the Academy Library, scouring books concerning every metaphysical subject imaginable. The London Academy's library was notoriously large and quite prestigious which was great when it came to looking up spells or anything about the supernatural; but that also meant it was easy to get lost within the stacks. In Charles's case, he felt legitimately lost and wished the school provided some sort of map. There were seemingly endless rows to the place, and even multiple levels. While the Librarian Maxine had been generally friendly and helpful, especially for a ghost who had a shard of metal sticking out of the side of her head, the list of books that he needed was vast and many of them quite difficult to find.

Staring up at one of the shelves, far in some long since forgotten and dusty corner, he couldn't help but overhear a few voices. He wasn't trying to eavesdrop, but it was difficult not to overhear the harsh whispers in such an oppressively quiet space. Especially when they were just on the other side of the very shelf you were standing in front of!

"One word, one complaint, one infraction, and I can get you sent right back." Charles didn't recognize the male's voice, but he knew a threat when he heard one. That didn't sound good, and he couldn't stop himself from leaning closer, trying to ascertain more. Whatever was going on, this didn't sound like a good start.

"I hardly think you're the authority in this matter." Now that surly and defensive voice was familiar. Edwin. Charles practically dropped the book he'd been fidgeting with in his hands and immediately tightened his grip, pulling it close to his chest. Unfortunately, the crinkling of the old book jacket made enough noise to immediately quiet the voices on the other side. Shoving the book haphazardly back on the shelf, Charles made his way down the row of books, hoping to catch sight of Edwin and his companion.

Unfortunately, in his haste to round the corner, he all but ran right over Edwin. Charles skid to a halt, arms automatically reaching out to catch Edwin, who looked genuinely surprised. Thankfully, neither of them went tumbling. "Look who I found!" he exclaimed brightly, smile immediately lighting up his features. He did steal a quick glance around, hoping to spot the wanker Edwin had been talking to before, but alas — he was no where to be seen. Bollocks. If the Library wasn't specifically warded against phasing ghosts and supernatural beings, he could have been there immediately.

It was then Charles realized what he'd sounded like, and hastily added, "Not that I was actually looking specifically for you, or anyone else for that matter, really. Surprised to find you here is all," he hurriedly explained, giving Edwin's shoulder a quick pat before dropping his hands back to his side. "Thought your dorm had every book you could possibly need so didn't expect you here."

Edwin looked irritable, but much to Charles's surprise, didn't immediately turn on his heel and storm off. The dark haired, pale Edwardian ghost had a stack of books in his arms, most of them leaned against his chest. Though he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, Edwin remained. "Charles, you are aware that I don't actually live in a library, right?" His words were just this side of exasperated, though Charles thought the edges of his lips might have curled into something akin to amusement. "Suffice to say, I do need to put in time and research my work, just like everyone else." Edwin sounded bitter but also, perhaps, sad. His expression had fallen, however briefly, before his usual judgmental expression returned. An expression Charles was beginning to realize was simply Edwin's default state.

Giving him a quick look over, he counted at least ten books of various sizes. Among the list of titles Charles could understand (there were plenty he couldn't translate at all) were Ancient Evils: A Complete Guide; Nightmares, Night Terrors, and Daydreams; A Witch's Guide to Astrology; The Grand Dukes of Hell, and at the very top The Casebook of Sherlock Holmes. "That's an awful lot of books, mate. Are they all for one class or is this simply some light reading?" His words were said in jest, something he hoped Edwin might understand by the way he smiled cheekily at him.

"I don't see how it concerns you," Edwin replied, once again, shutting Charles down.

That was fine. Charles would be patient. Crystal certainly had no interest in warming up to Edwin, and if whoever Edwin had been hanging around earlier was in any way indicative of how his usual interactions went, then Charles could easily understand his irritability. It seemed every place had its share of bullies and assholes. "Just being friendly, mate," he assured, not at all put off. "Did you need a hand? Cause I've got just the thing to help," he explained, slipping his backpack off his shoulder. He gave it a little friendly shake. "S'bigger on the inside than the outside it is. Well. A lot bigger! Fit myself in the whole thing a time or two, I did," he stated proudly, as if that was all the convincing Edwin needed.

Edwin arched an incredulous brow before his lips carved into an actual smile. It was small and brief but it his expression was genuinely amused. Charles couldn't help but be chuffed. "You crawled into your..er…pack? Why ever for?"

Charles grinned, "How else was I going to find out how big it was inside!"

Edwin gave an amused snort and a shake of his head. "There are plenty of other viable ways of testing the volume of a container that don't involve crawling into the space. Where did you come across such an enchanted item?" Edwin's interest was genuinely piqued.

"Made it myself," he announced proudly, though his pleasure was less about his pack and more about the fact that his new friend was actually holding a pleasant conversation with him. No defensiveness. No ire. It was like getting a feral street cat to come up and rub against your legs. One wrong move, one loud noise, and off it would bolt — but here, in this moment, it felt safe enough to approach.

"You made this?" Edwin's surprise was clear, so much so, he seemed to forget he was in the middle of a library.

"Shhhhh!" The shushing was immediate, though no one was anywhere near where they stood.

Edwin looked mortified that he'd broken the golden rule of the library, a space that he clearly seemed to treasure. Charles, of course, couldn't help but snicker at the silliness of the entire thing. What were they, errant children? "C'mon mate," he whispered, slinging the bag back over his shoulder. Without thinking, he reached over and took the pile of books from Edwin, taking advantage of his embarrassment to help him out. "Let's get these checked out and I can tell you all about it outside."

===

Edwin had a few more books to obtain before the two of them finally left the Library. Charles was only too happy to tote them around for Edwin until they were finally able to check out with Maxine. While she'd been happy to comment on the contents of each book, and Charles had always thought her friendly-enough, Edwin seemed particularly uncomfortable around her. Not outwardly rude, but immediately guarded. He looked upon her like he might some sort of predator — though part of Charles wondered if it was simply because of the obvious metal spike she wore and the blood oozing from the side of her head.

While most ghosts and spirits could change their visage at will, some of them carried their deaths with them at all times. In some instances, ghosts that were haunting the realm weren't even aware they were ghosts — as Charles assumed was Maxine's case. There were plenty of cases where ghosts simply were unaware they were dead, and thus were unable to move on until they understood their new reality. Denial was a hell of an emotion, especially for the unknowing dead. Other ghosts were so traumatized, or so emotionally wrapped up in their death, that they didn't know how to shed it even when they could — their death became a part of them, something that was intrinsically part of them.

But surely, Edwin had seen worse from where he had hailed from, hadn't he? Part of Charles wanted to ask what the matter might be, but he refrained. Quite possible it was just Edwin being Edwin… Gods knew it had taken Charles weeks just to get him to where they presently were.

With Edwin's books placed easily in Charles's backpack, Edwin suggested they return to his dorm. Charles was utterly chuffed to be invited so boldly, without some sort of scoff or eye roll. Now that was clear progress! He did, of course, relate his story of exactly how he created his pocket dimension, with minimal exaggeration. Of course, Edwin was utterly bemused on how he managed to fuck up such a basic spell so magnificently — but he also commended him on such an impossible feat.

"Spellwork's my worst course," Charles admitted, flopping haphazardly on the edge of Edwin's bed-turned-bookshelf. He had found, much to his surprise, a small side of it empty of clutter, though whether Edwin had done it specifically for him or he'd simply been organizing his things wasn't clear. Charles would simply pretend it was done purposefully because Edwin was a gentleman. Edwin himself had settled in his usual rigid place behind his desk.

"I don't know about that," Edwin replied thoughtfully. "You did manage to create quite an intricate and large pocket dimension— and a permanent one at that. To have it so contained within such a simple and confined space, along with a soul lock… That's tricky work for even a practiced spellweaver."

"I just wanted to make it bigger on the inside, ya know? Like the Tardis!"

Edwin's blank stare and knit brows quickly reminded Charles that Edwin probably wasn't up to date on mortal pop-culture references. While Charles could be outdated, his friendship with Crystal allowed him to better stay on top of what was happening in the realm of the living.

"The what?"

Charles gave a small chuckle. "Never mind, mate. Anyway, it is bigger on the inside, just way bigger than intended, and pretty tricky to navigate. I'm still figuring it out, ya know? Put a few things in it that I still haven't found — no idea where they went."

Edwin gave a small, thoughtful hum, before he leaned back in his chair. "So what courses do you excel at then?"

Charles almost did a double-take. Was Edwin actually asking about him? Like a personal question? Eagerly, he answered, "Did aces in Survival Bootcamp my first year at the Academy, and the subsequent Survival courses they offered the following year. Hexes, Curses, and Countermeasures; Poltergeisty; Interactivity for the Modern Ghost…

"I'm less brains, more brawn," he explained, as if Edwin hadn't already figured that out. At such a confession, Edwin did arch a brow, as if he were doubting his abilities on appearance alone. Charles might have been on the trim side, but he was quick, and capable, and stronger than he looked. Never mind that part of him hoped Edwin would really look and maybe, just maybe, take notice. If he shifted slightly, in hopes of giving him a little bit more of a show, he would never admit it.

Edwin gave a small, thoughtful hum before tilting his head. "I think you have plenty of smarts to go along with that brawn." The compliment actually caught Charles off guard, and he could feel his smile immediately brighten. Of course, Edwin did have other things to say and he continued with a little tut. "Impulsive, careless— lacking good judgment, certainly— but you do appear plenty clever when it counts."

"Oi! I have perfectly good judgment— decided to be friends with you, didn't I?" Charles countered, brown eyes bright with mirth. He wasn't at all put off by being called out by Edwin — what had he said that wasn't true? He was a bit reckless at times, living in the moment, rarely taking time to think things through— but that's just how he lived and death herself wouldn't change him.

The other ghost rolled his eyes, but there appeared to be a softening of his mouth, as if he were pleased. Not quite a smile but … close. "I dare say that might be a sign of your impulsiveness." Was that a bit of color on his cheeks?

Charles gave a shrug of his shoulders, reaching over to pick up one of the books sitting next to him. He traced his fingers over the cover. "Haven't kicked me out yet, have you?"

Edwin gave an actual scoff. "I did so! Multiple times, might I add," he objected. Heaving what appeared to be a long-suffering sigh, the student added more quietly, "You just keep coming back."

"Think you're worth it, mate," he answered immediately. He wasn't afraid to admit it because it was the truth. Charles didn't question why he showed up night after night, even though it was clear Edwin did. It just felt right, especially now that they were beginning to come into something a bit more comfortable. Was he earning Edwin's trust? Maybe. At minimum, the other lad was starting to relax around him, and that made Charles all the more eager to stick around. He knew a fellow broken soul when he saw one, and he couldn't help but want to help. He might not be able to fix Edwin's problems, just like he couldn't fix all of Crystal's, but that didn't mean he couldn't give them his time and his care. Someone had to, after all.

His words seemed to surprise his companion, who cleared his throat and quickly looked away. An uneasy silence seemed fall between them, which Charles did regret. He hadn't meant to put the other out and perhaps he shouldn't have been so forward, even if it were true. "So what brought you to the Library this morning?" Edwin broke the silence, seemingly ready to move on. "I don't recall you checking out any books before we left."

It was true. Charles had intended to do a little research but he'd gotten distracted by bumping into Edwin and ultimately focused on helping him. "Was meant to work on some report regarding the dangers of Hellspawn, Demons, and Infernal Spirits." It took Charles a moment to realize what he'd just said. Edwin was considered, technically, an Infernal Spirit. He was a ghost, but everyone knew to approach him with caution. "Not that I think all Infernal Spirits are….you know…bad," he tacked on awkwardly.

Edwin gave a small laugh, surprising him. "Charles, it would be foolish of you not to," he assured, his words surprisingly kind. He pushed himself away from his desk, and moved over to where Charles had settled upon the edge of his bed. "I spent over a hundred years in the worst place, with the worst types of people. I am quite aware of what I am."

This time, it was Charles's turn to frown. His eyebrows knit as he looked up at the other ghost. Edwin spoke so matter-of-factly about the fact he believed himself to be some monster, some threat. He remembered Crystal's warning — that he probably had been sent down there for a reason, and to be cautious— but how could that be? What had Edwin done? How had he wound up down there anyway! He wanted to ask, but didn't dare. Not yet, at least. Impetuous as he could be, there were some subjects that even he couldn't choke out, not this early on. Just like he didn't usually talk about the day he died, he wasn't going to ask Edwin what he'd done to wind up in Hell — much less how he managed to become the first exchange student from that realm to be allowed out.

There were rumors, of course. Some claimed he escaped Hell by sheer force of will; that he was Lucifer's many-times-great-nephew; that he bribed the Academy with power and secrets; while other were convinced he was nothing but a liar and this was some sort of farce. He was to be worshiped; he was to be feared; he was to be ignored; he was to be silenced; he was to be used. Charles couldn't believe the amount of stories he'd heard about Edwin from every quarter and very few of them were true, and even fewer were kind. No wonder the poor ghost preferred to keep to his room.

"Mate, I don't think monsters make a habit of rescuing strangers from impending doom," Charles tried to counter with a surprising amount of conviction.

Edwin gave a dismissive hand wave. "I assure you, they in fact do. Not every beast out there has pointy teeth and glowing red eyes, Charles, you must know that by now."

The words hit Charles unexpectedly hard, swallowing him up like the frozen water had at St. Hil's. Though he didn't need to breathe, his very ghostly breath was knocked right out of his lungs, and he suddenly gripped the book in his hands so tight his knuckles went white.

Memories welled up, unbidden, of the monster that haunted him almost every day of his life. A monster no one ever suspected. A monster that was rotten to the core and … part of Charles himself.

The other ghost couldn't possibly know how sensitive a topic he was skirting. Of course Charles knew a thing or two about monsters — and though it had been thirty-odd years, he remembered what it was like to live with one. A man who was supposed to be there for him, to love him unconditionally, and lift him up — instead had held him a grudge, beat him bloody, and tore him down more times than he could count. A man who could joke and laugh with his best mates at the pub, who could stay his hand in public, only to turn into an absolute brute as soon as the front door of their home clicked shut.

His old man was rough. Dangerous. And nobody outside of himself and his mum knew the truth of it.

So yeah, Charles knew monsters. He knew they could look like angels in the right light, but he absolutely could not believe that was Edwin. Edwin might have been brusque and even rude on occasion, but he'd never been cruel.

"Yeah, well," he forced a smile, sitting up and tossing the book he'd been holding back on Edwin's bed. "I just don't buy that you're like that." He did his best to ignore the memories that had unexpectedly welled up; the pain being inflicted upon him at the slightest infraction, or no infraction at all; the way his mother wept to the side, too terrified, too broken, too step between her husband and her son; the shame of being a bad child; the guilt of never making him happy; the weight of knowing he would never be enough. It all stirred within him, a toxic concoction of anger, regret, and misery that he'd never been able to unpack or let go.

All he could do was smile and hope it was enough. Breathe, he told himself. Deep breaths, even if he, as a ghost, didn't need them. He was fine. He was safe. And yet, he could feel the lash of the belt; the spark of pain; the bruises that colored his body, proof of his shame. Gods, if they were talking about monsters living behind pretty facades, then Charles could be considered one, too. He knew the anger, the wrath, the temper that lurked within him; the need to lash out when things went awry. And what would Edwin think of him if he knew?

The dark-haired ghost's brows knit as he looked at Charles. An emotion flickered across his grey-green eyes, one Charles couldn't register, but perhaps that was just as well. Charles quickly turned away, unable to face the scrutiny of Edwin Payne. Not here. "Anyway— pro'lly should let you get back to all your studying, shouldn't I? Don't want to be one of those blokes overstayin' his welcome." He pushed himself up to his feet, watching as Edwin retreated a few steps, hands half-lifted as if he wasn't sure what to do with them.

Charles hated the way Edwin looked — confused, unsure, perhaps even disappointed— but Charles needed some air. He didn't get into these states often, but when they cropped up, he knew the best thing to do was leave; hide his shame; let out his feelings where no one could see. He wouldn't break down in front of Edwin…

No. Not when the stranger had been through so much worse.

"Let me know when you need to bring those books back, yeah?" Charles encouraged, trying desperately to get everything back to where it had been before. Light, easy, comfortable. He just couldn't bring himself to look at Edwin a second time, fearing the other might see him for what he truly was: broken, pathetic, and so terribly worthless.

"Charles— did I—are you…?" Edwin stumbled over his words, clearly unsure what to say. He took a shaky breath, like he was going to finally spit out whatever it was he wanted to say. Instead, there was a small exhale, a defeated sigh, before quiet acquiescence followed. "…very well."

Charles grabbed his backpack, sliding it on his shoulder, trying very hard to ignore the awkward silence growing between them. Everything had been going so well, and now he was all but bolting out of his dorm like some coward. He knew it wasn't a good look, but he needed to get out of there, needed a minute to figure out why he was beginning to crumble for no fucking good reason. He didn't know why it was so important to keep up his spirits in front of this near-stranger… but he'd be damned if he let Edwin know just how weak he really could be.

"Later, mate," he forced another smile, before bolting out of the room. He closed the door behind him, leaning back upon it for just a moment while he released a ragged and shaky breath. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK. Forcing himself to move away from Edwin's dorm, staggering down the hallway, it occurred to Charles that he'd never managed to circle back and ask Edwin who he'd bumped into at the library. While he doubted Edwin would have given him a straight answer, he'd missed out on an opportunity to at least let him know he'd overheard the threat, that he'd noticed something was amiss, and that Edwin didn't have to tolerate it. Most importantly, he'd missed out on showing Edwin that he didn't have to face the afterlife alone.

Notes:

Just some more character development. We're getting there... slowly but surely. Hope y'all don't mind the scenic route as far as this fic and their ship goes.... because they're not zipping through this thing. As always, comments are always appreciated. <3 Thank you for taking the time to read!

Title Chapter comes from a line in the song "The Haunting" by Anberlin

Chapter 4: I'm No Good At Being Alone (Yeah, It's Taken A Toll On Me)

Summary:

Edwin ignored him. He didn't give two fucks about what Simon Mould had to say. He just wanted to put as much space between him and the other, wanted to go back to his room and lock himself away in the only safe place he'd known. He never thought he'd have to face him again, much less in yet another school setting — and now that he was here? He felt weak. Powerless. Ashamed. He should have moved on from these ancient feelings but he'd never gotten any closure, never found any peace. How could he?

His unlife was nothing but pain.

---

Edwin is having some feelings and, hey, look at that! Running into old "friends"... Surely, this won't be problematic at all.

Edwin stared at the door, eyebrows knit with a mix of concern and confusion. He immediately began running over their entire conversation, trying to figure out what had gone so awry. Surely, there was something he had done to drive Charles off in such a hurry. Stranger still was that he was disappointed by his absence. Wasn't this what he preferred? To be on his own, to have no connections, to depend solely on himself? He'd always known Charles would tire of him — but Edwin had, perhaps, finally, begun to get comfortable around him.

Now, his dorm room felt surprisingly empty — like Charles had taken all the warmth and security with him when he'd left. Edwin frowned, tutting at himself for such uninvited sentimentality. He was being ridiculous. He really should get back to his studies, to his reading, to his lessons. He still had to go back to St. Hilarion's and continue his investigation. He was certain, more than ever, that there was some portal, some rift, some tear that was allowing demons, wicked spirits, and diablery to infest the school. The place was already rife with negative energy from its sordid history— but any tear or open hellgate would only exacerbate the situation.

That no one had bothered to investigate before was frustrating, but he supposed very few had a desire to piss off a potential nest of demonic spirits. He did consider pulling in an expert or someone who was more in tune with holy magic — but dealing with angels or higher celestial beings was just as dangerous as the demonic and infernal. Edwin trusted neither. Fundamental extremists on both sides of the spectrum, really, and that level of strict rule was bound to be messy as well as dangerous. No, Edwin was determined to handle this himself, especially as he suspected his own death over a hundred years prior was part of the problem.

A good detective had to do whatever he had to do, to solve a case — and though he despised St. Hilarion's, if he wanted any chance to better his afterlife, he had to do the most good he could in the time he'd been given. His attendance at the Academy wasn't release, after all. There was no telling when he would be dragged back and returned to the Hellfire and Brimstone Academy, to the Doll House, or worse. Just thinking about it made his ghostly skin crawl, and he immediately pressed his knuckles together — a reminder that he was still here, that he still had both his arms, his fingers, his hands… Something to ground him in a moment of panic and stress.

Turning on his heel, he moved over to his bed, picking up the book Charles had been fidgeting with earlier. While he knew he needed to focus on his work, he was reminded of something Charles had said, before their conversation took a turn. He'd needed books, needed to study up on the Infernal. While there were likely plenty of books the Library had on offer, Edwin did like to believe himself a bit of an expert on the subject — and he had his own personal library filled with ancient Infernal lore.

Charles might already be souring on him — but he could at least offer him a boon. They weren't friends, but if this was some sort of alliance, then surely Edwin could grant him an offering of knowledge. Whether or not it would be accepted wouldn't matter — if Charles wished to send the books back, he could do so and that would be that.

It didn't take long for Edwin to find exactly what he needed, one tattered scroll, and three tattered books. Edwin could only hope Charles didn't question what the books were made out of lest he decide not to use them. They were ancient, infernal, and he made sure to cast a taming spell on all three just to be extra safe. He bound the three up with a variation of a binding spell, which was designated to unlock only for Charles, before placing the book and scroll in a bag.

Jotting down a quick note of explanation, he placed it atop the offering. Now the difficult part — delivery. Did he send them to him via portal? Did he seek him out and give them to him himself? He doubted Charles would wish to receive them in person, and it wasn't as if they shared any courses together. While it wouldn't be difficult to ascertain where Charles resided in the Academy dorms, he had no desire to take up any more of his time.

That left one option and only one option: Crystal Palace.

Making a face, he pushed the bag against the side of his desk. He had Spellweaving with her the following day. With luck, the exchange would be civil and brief.

===

Spellweaving was a four hour long course with a few breaks peppered within it. The first half of the class was often the lecture which was then either immediately followed by some sort of technical exam, a skill session, or both. Edwin felt this course was well beneath his skill level but that didn't mean he would give it less than his best. It meant he had high expectations out of his fellow classmates, and perhaps even more so, his professor. Unfortunately, this didn't earn him many friends.

Early on he had tried to be helpful: he'd encouraged the correct enunciation and cultural accent of a crafted spell; pointed out the flaws in the craftsmanship of a ritual; and called out the professor on glaring misinformation being spouted, particularly concerning Infernal best practices and policies. His aid backfired, because he apparently went about it in a manner that was nigh unforgivable. His peers were rankled further by him breezing through the work and quizzes with pleasure. He was an outstanding academic — and it earned him nothing but ire.

It didn't matter though. It wasn't as if Edwin had come here to make friends, despite whatever-was-happening with Charles. That was a …. an alliance, nothing more, and one foisted unwillingly upon him, no less. It was also why he had no choice but to approach Crystal during their assigned break, bag in hand. He cleared his throat upon arrival at her seat, hoping she might look up from where she was fighting with some modern-day gadget.

"For being a supernatural academy this place could sure fucking afford better Wi-Fi," she hissed under her breath.

Edwin had absolutely no idea what that meant but he did know when he was being ignored. "Ahem. Ms. Palace Surname-Von Hoverkraft?" he finally took to speaking to her directly, hoping that would do the trick.

It did not. Instead, she turned aside, and began digging through her satchel, pulling out a pair of headphones. Edwin's lips pursed— he could tell this was clearly going to be yet another snub. Very well. As she put on the headphones, he lifted up the bag of books, and dropped it right upon her desk. He could see the flash of ire in her gaze before she finally, with great aggravation, she looked up at him. "What the hell is this?"

Edwin's lips were pursed. "It's for Charles. You are a close acquaintance of his, are you not?"

Crystal's eyes narrowed immediately. "What is it? Why can't you give it to him yourself?" Her words were a heady mix of venom and suspicion. "Last I checked I wasn't running your errands. Probably not gifted enough to handle such thing."

Edwin frowned. He recalled their first lesson together, where in his frustration, he'd dubbed her incapable, inept, and though she might be dubbed a gifted student, the real gift was that she'd been considered competent enough to be invited to the Academy at all. It was not, perhaps, his finest moment— but she'd refused to listen to him and had been combative when he'd attempted to correct her work, to help her. Things had only devolved from there, and up until today, he did his best to ignore her existence — something she did not make easy with her loud and often crass opinions.

But he wanted to ensure Charles succeeded, and that was more important than a petty argument. However, he stubbornly refused to apologize. He would get around this impasse without taking back his assessment of her. "If you must know, they're a selection of texts that I believe will serve his studies well. I don't have any lessons with Charles, and I would much prefer he receive this sooner than later."

Crystal stared at him, and he wondered if he would have no choice but to hunt the other ghost down. He had no intention of explaining to her why he refused to seek him out himself. If the night prior had been the last Charles wished to spend with him, than far be it for Edwin to chase him down. But this offering would be beneficial to Charles, if he could but get him to receive them! "And if he doesn't want them?"

The thought of Charles rejecting the offering hadn't occurred to Edwin, and the sudden feeling that welled up at the mere idea of it only irritated him further.

"If he doesn't want them just bring them back to me, and that will be the end of it," he snapped. He watched with growing irritability as Crystal poked the black bag, as if it might turn on her and bite. "They truly are just books, Crystal, and the bag is just a bag. Neither of them bite. Now will you help?" He hated to have to reiterate his query, hated that it sounded like some sort of plea.

"What sort of books?" She asked coolly.

What was this, some sort of interrogation? "Does it really matter? Either you will bring them to him or you will not, but I will ensure he gets them regardless of their contents." Perhaps it would be better to simply answer her question, but Edwin didn't wish to share the particulars of their conversation if he could help it. He didn't know Crystal, besides remembering that Charles had mentioned her being his friend.

"Well, if you've other ways to get them to him then you don't need my—"

"They're books detailing demonology, infernal monsters, and diablerie," he interrupted impatiently. It was no great secret, he just disliked the details being held over him. He already would now owe Crystal fucking Palace a debt for doing this small favor. He didn't need her to question his motives, too. "I thought to help save him the trouble of wasting hours scouring drivel at the Library and get him accurate information instead."

Crystal scoffed, seemingly incredulous. "You know, Edwin— I might just be mortal with subpar psychic abilities, but it doesn't take a medium to see that you're very likely to be crushed by the weight of your astronomically large ego." She grabbed the bag, flinging it down haphazardly next to her own satchel. "I'll get these to Charles, but don't get used to me playing messenger." Without even waiting for a response, she shoved her headphones back on, and connected them to her gadget.

As irate as Edwin was, he gave a curt nod, and strode right back to his seat. He honestly didn't know what Charles saw in her, but … he supposed Crystal had to think the same thing about him.

===

The rest of the lesson passed without incident. Upon release, Edwin slowly packed up. He was in no rush to hurry out and bump into Charles; he also could ensure Crystal did as she promised. Thankfully Crystal picked up her satchel as well as the black bag containing Edwin's books, and hurried off. At least that was over and done with — dealing with Crystal was highly unpleasant, and he hoped he might avoid any further interaction with her going forward.

An oppressive silence gripped the now empty lecture hall. Packing up his things, he heard the smallest of shuffles as another entered the room. Glancing up, he suddenly did a double take, and found himself glaring at the new arrival.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

His hands started to tremble, his mouth went dry, and he found himself utterly terrified to move.

"Simon," he finally stammered, words rigid. He was certain that his heart would be pounding if he had one that actually beat. Nothing was more of a shock to his system than seeing him at this Academy. The last time Edwin had seen Simon, he'd watched him disappear, had seen Sa'al take the entire lot of his toadies to Hell, before dragging Edwin into its bowels as the sacrifice he was forever branded.

"Payne," Simon greeted with his usual caustic arrogance. Like he knew that he belonged, that the world was in the palm of his hands, and all he had to do was take what he wanted. And he had taken, hadn't he? Ended Edwin's life before it had even truly had a chance to begin. Had terrorized and terrified him before sacrificing him to an actual demon. Had stolen him out of his bed, had called out that awful name Mary-Anne, had laughed at his tears and his muffled screams, and then sent him to Hell…

Edwin had assumed all of the lads, including Simon Mould, were suffering similar fates in Hell. It wasn't until recently that he realized he'd been mistaken. While he didn't know the details, somehow, someway, Simon was here. Not a ghost, but not alive, either. Something else. Something different.

Edwin immediately scrambled to pack up his things, only for Simon to reach over, and push his book back down on the desk. "Woah — Easy there. What's the hurry?" The way he smiled at him hardly looked friendly. But Simon had never once been friendly. He'd teased Edwin mercilessly and not even a hundred years of the worst torture, pain, and agony had lessened the emotional and mental betrayal of his schoolmates.

Edwin had always been nervous around Simon, and the bullying and teasing didn't help. He had been everything Edwin wasn't and he'd never known how to act around him and his gang of friends. He'd get flustered when Simon did pay him attention, so it was better to simply avoid him altogether. "I really must go," he snapped, trying desperately to keep the waver out of his voice. He was not the same Edwin Payne he'd been when they had been classmates together — so why did his insides twist, and his hands tremble? He was a fucking ghost — he shouldn't have such an extreme response to…to….whatever Simon was!

Simon's brows knit and his mouth pulled into a frown. "Is this how it's going to be then? After all this time?"

Edwin couldn't help but be incredulous. Had Simon forgotten what their time at St. Hilarion's had been like? Did he forget why Edwin had been sent to Hell to begin with!? "You sacrificed me to the demon Sa'al in the dead of night, and damned me to a century of Hell! Of course this is how it's fucking going to be!" The anger he felt was driven more by fear and bitterness than actual wrath. He had stared down and fought countless, unimaginable horrors, and yet Simon fucking Mould had him feeling like he could actually retch. He could taste blood on his tongue, could feel the agony of his insides spilling out, could hear the sloppy tear of his limbs being ripped from his body… Again, and again, over and over. He could feel that darkness he had leaned into near the end, threatening to well up, to overwhelm him and pull him down, down, down….

"I tried apologizing back at the library, what more do you want?" Simon stared down at him, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. He at least had the decency to look dismayed, frustrated. "You threatened me, I merely reminded you of your…place…"

Edwin wanted to close his eyes, to take a breath, but he didn't dare do so in front of Simon. What had happened the last time he'd shut his eyes around him? What had happened when he had been sleeping so soundly in his bed? It was a good thing ghosts didn't sleep because he doubted he'd ever rest easy again. Not knowing what fate might await him when his guard was truly down meant he simply couldn't keep his guard down, not even for a moment.

Edwin could tell he was close to succumbing to a shameful bout of hysteria. Looking down at his hands, he could see the stains, the dirt, the torn out nails, and was certain he could small the stench of rot and bodily decay. Not here. He was not going to break down in front of Simon of all people. Crossing his arms, ducking his head, he tried desperately to remind himself that he wasn't in Hell; that Simon couldn't hurt him like he had before; that he was, for a little while, safe. Surely, nothing here could be as bad where he'd come…

Simon cleared his throat. "Look, it wasn't meant to be like that, all those years ago. It was supposed to be a joke—"

"That was your idea of a joke!?" His throat closed, his eyes stung, and could feel blood beginning to drip.

"It wasn't supposed to— I didn't realize you were a vi—"

The ghost yanked his books close to his chest, grabbed his pack, and pushed himself away from his desk, practically bolting to the exit.

"Edwin, wait—come back, we need to talk!"

Edwin ignored him. He didn't give two fucks about what Simon Mould had to say. He just wanted to put as much space between him and the other, wanted to go back to his room and lock himself away in the only safe place he'd known. He never thought he'd have to face him again, much less in yet another school setting — and now that he was here? He felt weak. Powerless. Ashamed. He should have moved on from these ancient feelings but he'd never gotten any closure, never found any peace. How could he?

His unlife was nothing but pain.

Even now, he couldn't escape some form of anguish. This was far from the promised tranquility so many other souls got to experience. There was no peace for Edwin Payne, and some days that was a much heavier cross to bear than others. He didn't even bother stumbling through the campus back to his dorms; he found a mirror, and fumbled his way back into the safety and security of his room.

The runes would keep him safe. His mirror was accessible only to himself, thanks to the spell he had cast upon it, a doorway that only opened for him. Simon couldn't get him here, at least he… he didn't think he could. Doubt began to creep into his psyche, even as he began running through the possibility of crafting additional barriers.

He could hear the laughter, the mockery, the giggles, the echo of a realm that felt like it was a physical part of him… He could feel Hell's invisible tether tighten around his neck, his wrists, his ankles. He might not be in the Hellfire and Brimstone Branch of the Academy, but he knew, deep down, he would never truly be free.

Notes:

If you're still reading thanks for sticking around! I know I'm taking the scenic route getting anywhere with this story but hopefully you're enjoying the ride. <3

Comments and kudos are always welcome and always loved!

This installment's Chapter Title is based off the Teddy Swim's song "Lose Control".

Chapter 5: The World Is Ugly (But You're Beautiful To Me)

Summary:

"Edwin!" Charles's voice cracked with a surprising amount of feeling. "What happened? Who did this?" His concern was immediate. He hastily bridged the distance between them, crowding into the cracked door, hands reaching out as if to touch.

The other ghost flinched, retreating — but he did allow the door to swing open. "It's my own doing," Edwin finally answered, gaze averted. "It should pass in time," he assured quietly, though Charles wasn't sure Edwin was convinced.

Charles stepped inside, shutting the door firmly behind him. He shrugged off his backpack, letting it fall to the floor, even as he moved closer to Edwin. Not close enough crowd him, but close enough to prove he wasn't put off by his injuries.

"Don't worry 'bout it, mate." And he meant it, truly. With the initial shock starting to wear off, Charles realized what was going on.

Edwin was reverting.

===
Or, Edwin is having a rough time of it and Charles is ready to dive in and fix it!

"The next time your boyfriend wants to send you a gift, he can do it himself."

Charles gave Crystal a double take as a black bag was shoved forcibly into his arms. He had invited Crystal over for a study session, in hopes that he might help with his enchantment — but he hadn't expected her to bring mail.

"Huh?" He started, glancing from her to the bag, and back again. "I don't have a—"

"Yeah, yeah, sure you don't," Crystal interrupted, though this time her lips curled into a small, tight smile. "So you're not turning pink imagining it," she pointed out, and Charles had to huff in denial. No way was he blushing…. "Anyway, your little pet project doesn't think too highly of the library's collection of books and wanted you to have these."

Oh. Oh!

He finally picked up what she was putting down and this time he could feel himself flush with heat. Whatever was in the bag must have been from Edwin! His eyes brightened with pleasure before he realized this was just what Crystal had been going on about. Clearing his throat, he tried to hide his features by immediately digging into the contents of the bag. No way would he admit to her how happy such thoughtfulness made him. Edwin had sent him something, which meant he'd been thinking about him, which meant progress on the friendship front!

His smile was gummy and large, which was in stark contrast to Crystal's, whose nose was crinkled with clear disgust. He knew her feelings about his socializing with Edwin and how strongly she objected to it. However, the fact she'd hauled this offering from her lesson to Charles at all meant she cared enough about him to put her personal feelings about Edwin to the wayside.

A good lass, really.

Still, he knew smiling like an idiot wasn't going to convince her that her assessment was mistaken. They weren't boyfriends, and they weren't dating, and…. yeah. Would be silly to even humor such an idea, wouldn't it? Schooling his expression to something more neutral, Charles shrugged, and did his best to play it cool. "He's not my boyfriend." Ha! There. Denial. He'd just ignore the small part of him that bubbled up at such a fictitious possibility. Edwin didn't seem like the dating sort—but part of Charles was more than happy to kick around the idea now that it had been planted.

Or at least, he would certainly do so later, when Crystal wasn't prepared to read his every expression like an open book.

Reaching into the bag, he pulled out three thick books, bound together by a glowing string of magic, as well as an old, rolled up scroll.

Setting them down upon his desk, he tugged on the golden string. Thankfully, it immediately untied itself, before disappearing completely. A nifty little piece of magic.

The first book he picked up from the stack was a dark maroon in color, and hard bound. The pages were lined in gold, and there was some sort of dark aura radiating off it like a shadow. "…. Um… What language is that?"

Crystal leaned over and gave a snort, rolling her eyes. "Doesn't look like any script I've seen. Of course he'd send you a book in a language you don't know and can't read. How incredibly helpful. What an ass," she muttered, loud enough to ensure Charles heard.

Charles shrugged and set it to the side. It didn't matter that he couldn't read it — he was touched all the same. It was the thought that counted, wasn't it? And Edwin clearly thought highly enough of him that he thought he could read it, or figure it out.

As if he needed to defend Edwin's choices, he hurriedly picked up the next book. "This one looks aces!" The second book simply was titled Bestiary of the Nine Circles of Hell: Volume II. It was thick, with a lock that had to be opened by hand. As soon as it was free, it flew open with an actual snarl. It snapped at Charles's fingers, causing him to snatch his hand back. "Did that book just try to bite you?" Crystal asked, shock turning into curiosity as she leaned closer.

Charles gave a lopsided grin. "Think so," he concurred, before reaching a hand out to tentatively give the book's open page a little scritch with his finger. "Must've been a little pent up being locked tight! Now there's a good book," he encouraged, as if he were speaking to some sort of feral animal.

The book at least seemed to settle in on his desk, allowing its spine to stretch just so.

"Now what's this you're trying to tell me? Someone fall into a well, eh, Lassie?" Crystal rolled her eyes at his old-fashioned teasing. She liked to remind him he could be such an old man sometimes— in which he liked to counter he [i]was[/i]! Would've been well into his middle-ages if he'd lived.

The paper had looked blank but words began to appear. Unfortunately, they came out blotchy, and looked more akin to blood than ink. There were a few sigils and rituals— something about summoning a greater demon. In fact, the longer he stared, the more his eyes began to burn, even as his lips were tempted into uttering the incantation against his will.

Nope, nope, nope.

Charles quickly slammed the book shut. "Better read this one when it's a nicer mood, yeah?"

"Another winner," Crystal scoffed.

Picking up the last book, Charles studied it warily. It was the smallest of the three, both in size and length, but it also looked the oldest. The leather binding was cracked, seemingly ancient, and it appeared to be hand stitched together. The book had no name, but upon opening it, it appeared to be some sort of journal. The text was handwritten in dark ink, and included plenty of drawings, symbols, and notes. However, there was something dark and foreboding about the text. The light in the room flickered, the shadows darkened, and Charles felt the oppressive weight of something step into the room.

Yeah, that was a pass, at least for tonight.

"I'm not sure I even want to open that scroll," Charles joked, forcing himself to close the last book. Thankfully, as soon as he did, the unknown presence disappeared, and everything went back to normal. Reading that one was sure going to be …. fun.

Charles looked over at Crystal to see how she was doing. She was worrying at her lower lip, and her hands hovered over the stack of books curiously. Usually, she couldn't get wait to get her hands on such unique items, but right now she seemed hesitant. He didn't blame her. If he were honest with himself, he feared what might happen if she did touch them. Her abilities were shockingly powerful— what might she find or do or awaken by reading these clearly infernal texts? She'd already dabbled with demons in the past, and thanks to David, was extra susceptible to their trickery and abuses.

Having these texts around her was probably a bad idea.

"Crystal? You uh… you okay?" Charles asked, shoving the books farther from her reach. He tried to catch her eye, brows knit with concern.

"Yeah… Yeah!" She added hastily, blinking quickly and focusing back on Charles's face. "I think I'd better get to my studies," Crystal gave a small, grateful smile as she pulled her hands away and shoved them back into her pockets. She bumped Charles with her shoulder, before moving to settle in her usual place upon his couch.

"What's on the agenda tonight?" Charles asked, picking up the black bag to slip the books back into it. He was just about to slide them back in when something pale caught his eye. Down at the bottom rested a small note, with something scribbled in loopy, elegant handwriting.

Crystal's answer was completely ignored as he snatched up the note and gave it a read.

I trust you'll find these useful. Dousing your hands in Holy Water before handling is highly recommended. - Edwin Payne

Charles looked down at his hands, smiling. That Edwin had even bothered to write him a note at all warmed his dead heart. It felt all the more personal, like they really were becoming friends and it wasn't entirely one-sided. He certainly would find the contents of the books useful….ish. He'd need Edwin's help with translating whatever language the first book was in, but this would certainly aid him with his paper — and even if it didn't, it would aid him in their burgeoning friendship.

"Hello? Charles? Are you even listening?" Crystal's voice pulled him right out of his reverie. Shoving the books back into the bag.

"Yeah, course I am! Go on," he encouraged. Right now he had an afternoon study session with Crystal. He could spend a few hours thinking about her and his coursework and not Edwin… right?

===

Unfortunately, Charles's focus was shot.

While he had been able to work a little bit on his homework, his thoughts continued to drift back to Edwin. Crystal eventually gave up on trying to pull his focus. She seemed to know when she was beat.

He'd debated aloud whether or not he should thank Edwin in person for the books, or simply write him a note and deliver it via post. Crystal told him sending him a letter in either fashion was an old-fashioned and stupid idea. He ignored her. Instead of reciting lines of spellwork, instead, Charles crafted up his best thank you note, and decided that he would give it to him the next time they met.

But when would that be?

His thoughts were periodically interrupted by Crystal's chit-chat. She told him all about her lessons, her upcoming exams, as well as a girl she'd seen in passing with snow white hair, and the pinkest outfit she'd ever seen. Charles was happy to listen, but he kept thinking back to the letter Edwin had written — he would have never guessed someone with such perfect penmanship could be Hellbound.

What had he done to get sent there? Why was he the first student at the Academy allowed out? Crystal certainly didn't approve of Charles spending time with him—but he also understood why she'd be wary. Everything he'd heard about her demonic ex, David, made his skin crawl. He'd been a toxic, abusive, manipulative, asshole — and Charles wouldn't hesitate to send him back to the Nine Circles if he crossed her again. However, David wasn't Edwin, even if they did come from the same place. Surely, Edwin couldn't be anything like that.

He seemed …. awkward? Defensive? Normal?

So what if his walls were covered in runes, sigils, and protection spells the likes of which he'd never seen. That didn't make him a creeper. That sort of magical warding simply had to be normal from where he'd come from, right? And sure, Edwin seemed to write off people with a sharp tongue and a curt word, but that didn't make him a bad guy! Not everyone had to be overly friendly! It wasn't a crime to be prickly. Besides which, would a demon send him infernal books to corrupt his soul? …… okay, bad example, but surely that wasn't Edwin's intention!

The night wore on, and eventually Crystal called it. As she packed up her things, she watched Charles look back at the black bag full of demonic texts. "You're going over there, aren't you?"

Charles gave a snort. He opened his mouth, as if he was going to object, before he realized she was right. He shrugged and gave a nod instead. "I mean, he's a ghost, I'm a ghost—not like we need to sleep."

Crystal shook her head. "You're hopeless. If you get sacrificed by this asshole, I am not going to be part of the rescue mission," she warned, though they both knew that wasn't true. If anything happened to Charles, he knew that Crystal would be the first one to form a rescue mission. She spoke a big game, but he knew she genuinely cared about her friends— and not just because she'd lost so many during the David Years.

"I don't think ghosts can be proper sacrifices— but hopefully I won't have to test that one out, eh? I'll be fine. 'Sides, it's good manners thanking' someone right proper like, and nights are a ghost's most active hours.. The haunting hours, right?"

Crystal grinned, "Isn't that playing right into stereotypes? What'll you do next, don a white sheet and stalk the hallways saying 'boo'?"

Charles feigned offense. "Oi! None of that, now! Sides, you know I actually look pretty damn spectacular tangled up in bedsheets—"

The groan of disgust Crystal made was worth it.

===

Once Crystal had gone to catch up on sleep, Charles packed up his things, shoving the books he'd been given into his backpack, shoved his handcrafted note into his pocket, and made his way outside and over to Edwin's dorm. The clouds were low and thick, blotting out the stars, while a heavy autumn rain was coming steadily down — not that he felt or was affected by it. The Academy was as busy during the overnight hours as it was during the day. There were ghosts phasing in and out of hallways on their way to and from night classes; a coven of vampires harassing a lone werewolf separated from his pack; and even what appeared to be a harpy flirting with a reaper.

Edwin was located in a smaller, older wing of the Academy and it was just far enough a trip for Charles to get into his head. Was it going to be awkward showing up like nothing had happened? He had left in a hurry after finally, finally, being invited over — no apology, no explanation, nothing. Of course, his reasons for fleeing had nothing to do with Edwin, but he knew how it must have looked.

Well, awkward or not, Charles was determined to simply carry on like nothing was amiss. He wasn't about to give up on Edwin, even if his emotions had gotten the better of him. Whatever had overcome him before—well, it wouldn't happen this time. He'd be sure of it!

By the time he made it to Edwin's residency hall, he was feeling pretty good about everything. He'd never visited Edwin at this late an hour but that didn't matter. He was impulsive and spontaneous — there was no rule about haunting another ghost so late! So, he trudged up the couple floors of stairs with renewed vigor, rounding the corner of the dimly lit hall with eager familiarity.

The shadows in the corridor were dim, much too dim, and far more oppressive than usual, but Charles was accustomed to the school's atmosphere changing based on whatever was happening in any given area. Probably some sort of spell gone awry. Approaching the familiar door, Charles knocked. "Hey, mate, you in?" Even if he could have phased though (he could not, due to Academy warding), he wouldn't have— Edwin seemed uptight enough without Charles just bursting in.

Unfortunately, he was met with silence.

"….Edwin?" He knocked again.

Damn, had they missed one another?

He'd been so certain Edwin would be within the confines of his room he hadn't really planned on what to do if he didn't answer. The disappointment he felt hit surprisingly hard. He should've stayed longer yesterday, taken advantage of the time they'd had.

Did he stay? Did he go? He glanced down the hallway, the way he had come. Well, there was no use standing around like a fool. Charles leaned in and heaved a sigh, pressing his head against the door for just a moment. "Right, okay— will catch you later then, yeah?" He rambled, purely on the off-chance Edwin was inside and just feeling particularly avoidant.

Charles hesitated a moment, pulling out the note he'd written, before cramming it beneath the door. He had wanted to thank him in person, as well as see if they could set up a study session — but that could happen later. It was clear Edwin wasn't in or … or if he was, he had no interest in anything to do with him.

Turning away from the door, Charles shifted his backpack on his shoulder, before he made his way down the dark hallway. He was nearing the end of it when the click of a door opening, followed by a voice, broke through the silence of the corridor.

"Charles, wait—" the words were surprisingly vulnerable, shaky, uncertain — but he recognized Edwin's voice immediately.

Charles turned, surprised but pleased, a smile immediately lighting up his features. Unfortunately, his smile dimmed as soon as he laid eyes on the ghost peering out at him. It was Edwin, and yet, he looked horrific. He took a few steps closer, jaw dropping with surprise. There were dark rings under his eyes, and dried blood caked on his pale, sickly colored skin. More blood oozed from his eyes, his nose, his mouth, staining his clothing— clothing that looked threadbare at best. Gone were his usual pristine and wrinkle-free layers — instead, he was in some sort of pale, button down shirt and a loose pair of pale trousers, both stained red with blood.

"Edwin!" Charles's voice cracked with a surprising amount of feeling. "What happened? Who did this?" His concern was immediate. He hastily bridged the distance between them, crowding into the cracked door, hands reaching out as if to touch.

The other ghost flinched, retreating — but he did allow the door to swing open. "It's my own doing," Edwin finally answered, gaze averted. "It should pass in time," he assured quietly, though Charles wasn't sure Edwin was convinced.

Charles stepped inside, shutting the door firmly behind him. He shrugged off his backpack, letting it fall to the floor, even as he moved closer to Edwin. Not close enough crowd him, but close enough to prove he wasn't put off by his injuries.

"Don't worry 'bout it, mate." And he meant it, truly. With the initial shock starting to wear off, Charles realized what was going on.

Edwin was reverting.

Reversion was rare but could happen to any ghost at any time, particularly when they were upset or suffering from panic, fear, anxiety, or negative emotions. A ghost might be incorporeal and take on a variety of forms with a bit of work and effort, but they could also revert back to their death state, or a state associated with it. "Happens to every ghost now and then, doesn't it?" he assured, as if it wasn't shocking to see Edwin standing there, oozing blood with broken bones sticking out of his skin.

Now, how best to handle?

Charles wasn't sure if it was better to look at Edwin directly and act like he wasn't legitimately concerned, or to turn away and distract himself with other things in his room — see if maybe Edwin could better pull himself back together without him watching. Obviously, something had happened to spook him back to such a state — but he wasn't sure it was his place to ask about it, to push. Charles didn't want Edwin to think he was uncomfortable seeing him like this, even if it was disturbing to see. But he also didn't want Edwin to think he was staring or gaping at his pain. So, Charles settled for something in between: he remained where he was, near Edwin, but let himself glance around the room, taking note of frantically added spells to Edwin's collection. Some were now scribbled on the floor amid the blood splatter, while others were now on the back of the door.

Peeking back at Edwin, he did notice with some surprise that the note he'd shoved under the door was being held tightly to the others chest, like some sort of lifeline.

"Did you— Did you need something, Charles? I understand if you'd rather leave given my …. condition." Edwin was clearly trying to act normal, but he heard the tremor in his voice, saw the way his body seemed to shake.

"Naw, mate— happy to be here. Truly," he assured, hoping his words didn't sound forced or insincere. It wasn't a lie — he was happy to be here, even if hated to see his new friend so upset. "I had ..er… wanted to thank you for the books! They're aces." Maybe a little idle chit-chat would help. Of course he wanted to ask what happened, but he knew Edwin would probably shut it down. He wasn't a very open individual on the best days, after all.

Edwin gave a nod, glancing down at the note still in his hands. "I'm glad they got to you promptly," Edwin murmured, as if he had doubted that they would get to him at all. Charles supposed he believed it, given how he must have had to convince Crystal to deliver them in the first place.

"I hope Crystal wasn't too, well, Crystal," he teased, hoping too bring some levity to the situation.

Edwin finally looked up at Charles, giving a small sniff. That was more like it, right? "You speak as if she has some other side of her that isn't stubborn, abrasive, and willful."

Charles smiled, stepping just a bit closer. "Sounds a bit familiar, don't it mate?"

Edwin gave him a sour look, lips pulled into a grimace — but Charles thought he saw the fear, which lurked behind his stormy, jade-green eyes, morph a little bit into amusement. "You know her well then, I presume? Odd for a ghost to befriend a living girl." The way he crinkled his nose made it clear he disapproved of the association.

Charles, of course, couldn't be more pleased. There was the familiar judgment he so enjoyed. "She's smart, she is, and has some wicked abilities. Fit too," he noted, nothing short of honest about his assessment of her.

Edwin gave him a double-take, a flash of emotion crossing his features that Charles couldn't quite place. Annoyance maybe? Aggravation? …. Jealousy? He quickly quieted that rogue and hopeful thought. "We dated a while during our second year but turned out to be better friends. Her dorm's just a few doors down from mine, so we hang out pretty regularly." He felt like he was rambling, but was pleasantly surprised to see that Edwin's color was slowly returning, beneath all that caked on blood.

"You dated a living girl?" Edwin asked archly.

Charles laughed. "Course I did. Jealous, mate?"

Edwin spluttered, features going pink beneath all that blood. Charles decided to ease off, and instead, carried on without missing a beat. "I mean, why not? Might not have felt everything but it was still pretty mint." And it had been, for all that it was a bit untraditional. "We didn't last, but I think we're better friends for it, really. We're comfortable. No secrets between us, ya know?" He was grateful that Crystal had remained in his life, even if their romantic relationship had fizzled. They made much better besties than they did partners. Their own personal baggage had wound up causing quite a bit of strife— and when their tempers crossed, it often turned explosive. Charles liked to keep things buried, preferred to sugar-coat his feelings, while Crystal was much more upfront about her feelings—and expected Charles to be the same. While there was no doubt they cared about each other, they were much better as friends and only friends.

Edwin gave a little nod, a little thoughtful hum, but said nothing.

"You dating anyone?" The question slipped out before Charles could stop it.

While Edwin didn't splutter like he had previously, his eyebrows lifted so high they practically got lost in his hairline. Charles gave a little laugh, but refused to take the question back—even if it seemed awfully invasive for someone as put together and private as Edwin Payne. "Hardly," came the stiff response, though Charles was certain he could see Edwin's ears turning a darker shade of pink.

"Just trying to be inclusive," Charles noted, amused at how put off his friend seemed by the notion. But of course, Charles wasn't going to change the subject or let him off the hook quite that easy. "Anyone you want to be dating?"

Edwin actually looked incredulous, his face turning beet red beneath the fading blood. "Really now! That hardly seems—"

THUD! THUD! THUD!!

Both Charles and Edwin jumped in surprise.

Charles turned his head to look at Edwin, who tore his gaze away from the door to stare right back. His eyes were wide as plates, chest heaving as he gasped for unneeded breath. Another pound, this time more forceful, followed by a loud voice. "Edwin, I know you're in there. We need to talk. Now!"

Charles immediately bristled.

He knew that voice. It had been the same one from the library that he'd overheard. Same pompous, arrogant, ass that had been picking on Edwin.

Edwin's lips had pursed, and Charles noticed with alarm that new wounds were beginning to open up on his pale skin — his ghostly flesh was beginning to rip, blood pouring out of fresh wounds at an alarming rate. The shadows of the room had darkened again, reaching once more for Edwin. All the progress Charles had been making in soothing Edwin had been completely undone by whatever twat was now outside the room.

Fuck that.

Storming over to the door, Charles yanked it open with a scowl. Standing in font of him was a tall, broad shouldered man, complete with fair skin and blonde curls. His expression was pinched, and he looked completely sour and far too self-important. He had a few inches on Charles, but he wasn't intimidated by his height, or the fact he was far broader in shoulder and chest. "Sod off, will you?"

"Who the hell are you?" Except he didn't even bother to give Charles time to answer. Instead, he attempted to push past him and force his way inside. It didn't work—Charles was in the way, but he could at least see past his shoulder. "Edwin? I know you're in there! Stop fucking around and answer me!"

Not on his bloody watch.

Charles stood his ground. He reached out with his arms to brace them against the frame of the door. He locked his stance, puffing out his chest, and looming as large as he could make himself. "I told you to beat it. He's not taking visitors and you've not been invited to come inside." Just let this arsehole try to push past him one more time. Charles almost hoped he would — he was certain he could take this stuffy wanker.

Simon cracked his knuckles. His lips parted, as if he were going to say something—but Edwin's voice pulled his attention back to the ghost in the room. "Go away, Simon. I told you already, there's nothing to discuss." Charles noticed that his voice sounded just on the side of hysterical.

Well that wouldn't do.

Dragging his hands off the door frame, he forced Simon out of the doorframes space, pushing him bodily back a step. He forcibly closed the door behind him, breaking any possibility of visual contact between Simon and Edwin.

While Charles hoped it had a positive affect on Edwin, it, unsurprisingly, pissed Simon right off. The curly haired man finally looked down at Charles, like he'd only just finally decided to consider him. His cheeks were red with vexation, and Charles could swear he saw a vein throbbing upon his temple. "What are you, his guard dog?" There was something about the way he sneered at him that reminded Charles of his old mates at St. Hil's. A bunch of tossers the lot of them turned out to be, which only made Charles all that more eager to throw down with him.

Maybe a good fight was what he needed, especially if it meant this arsehole stayed away from Edwin.

"I'm his best mate, if you must know, and if you don't start walking away I'm going to have to run you off my own way." Now it was Charles's turns to crack his knuckles.

"I'd like to see you try." He sneered, pushing Charles back against the closed door with a rough shove. They were chest to chest now, but Charles wasn't ready to back down. He was so fucking tired of people thinking he was nothing — too brown, too poor, too stupid, too scrawny, too difficult. They didn't know the shit he had dealt with day after day behind closed doors; they didn't know the rage that lurked behind his smile; they didn't know how damn hard it was to keep himself from turning into a monster just like his father. But maybe, just maybe, Simon would find out.

The tension was palpable and Charles could feel his temper rising. He wasn't afraid of Simon, and if it came to blows, so be it. Wouldn't be the first time Charles found himself in a fight, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. He'd certainly been knocked around by a hell of a lot worse.

"You don't know who you're messing with," Simon spat, his words threatening. It wasn't clear if he meant himself, or Edwin, but Charles didn't give a fuck either way. "You don't know the first thing about him. You don't fucking know who you're defending."

"And you do?"

"I know what he is. I know where he came from. And I know that if he's smart, he'd let bygones be bygones before he winds up in over his head. You hear that, Edwin? I know what you're doing and there'll be Hell to pay if you go through with it!" Simon moved faster than Charles expected, his fist slamming the door, inches from his head. The force was strong enough to make both the door and the nearby wall shudder — but Edwin remained silent within.

Simon looked at the door, then at Charles, before seemingly giving up. His nostrils flared with aggravation. "You can't hide forever, Payne. You hear me?!" With one last snarl at Charles, he shoved himself away from the door and finally took his leave.

Charles lingered in the hall for a few moments, wanting to ensure that Simon had indeed actually left. He didn't understand why he was coming after Edwin, or what he was going on about, butit didn't matter. All he knew was this guy was going to be harassing Edwin until he got whatever-answers-he-was-looking-for from the other ghost; answers Edwin clearly didn't want to give him.

Taking a steadying breath, once Charles was certain Simon was gone for good, he stepped back inside. He shut the door behind him, leaning back against it to give Edwin a little more space in the small room.

"He's gone."

Edwin was standing with his back against the wall farthest from the door, hands balled into fists while he pressed his knuckles together. All color had drained itself from his features, and there was afresh pool blood staining the floor. Charles couldn't imagine what the trauma Edwin had experienced in Hell —but one look at his broken, twisted, body was enough to make his stomach turn and put his imagination to work. "He'll come back," Edwin finally spoke, his words quietly resigned.

Charles frowned, before pushing himself away from the door. He approached carefully, looking for any sign that Edwin didn't want him near. If there was one thing Charles hated it was a bully, and seeing his friend so distressed, so shaken to his ghostly core, meant he couldn't just stand around and do nothing. That wasn't his way. He was a ghost of action, and honestly, seeing Edwin look so petrified hurt. "I'll run him off as many times as I have to, mate," Charles promised. And he would. "You don't have to give that wanker a minute of your time if you don't want to, no matter what he claims."

Edwin made a strangled noise, almost a sob, as he stared at a fixed point on the floor. He seemed to want to avoid looking at Charles. "You don't understand." His words were shaky, deflated, pained.

Bridging the distance between them, Charles tentatively, carefully, cautiously, reached out. Edwin didn't seem to notice. He let his hands come to rest on the others shoulders, giving him a gentle squeeze. For being a bit broader than Charles, he was painfully frail beneath his hands. He could feel the sharp bones of his shoulders, his collarbone jutting against the thin material of his shirt and into his thumbs. "Then , please, explain it to me. Let me help." Charles wasn't one to beg, but he wanted to ensure his friend knew he was here; that he didn't have to carry this burden alone.

How many times had he wished someone had been there for during his lowest and roughest? That someone would have seen the pain beneath the mask, would have questioned the bruises, the broken bones, the blood, the shouting… No, he wasn't going to just stand here and watch from the sidelines and keep his nose out of Edwin's business. Strangers they might well be, but Charles wasn't one to do anything halfway.

With the blood oozing down the side of Edwin's face, with his eyes sunken in, and his body still trembling beneath his touch, Charles couldn't help himself. He pulled Edwin fully into his arms, right into an impromptu embrace. He knew there was a good chance he'd be shoved back, pushed away, rejected—but he couldn't just stand there and not try to offer comfort when Edwin was clearly in duress.

For a long moment Edwin remained stiff as a board. He felt Edwin's hand immediately lift and come rest against him, palms against his chest. All Edwin had to do was push, and Charles would let him go…. But he didn't. In fact, for a long moment, he simply stood frozen in his embrace.

One breath.

Two.

Then a change. It was subtle, a small, shuddering breath, before Edwin's body slowly relaxed into his embrace. Maybe not fully, but Charles could feel his body begin to unravel and unwind. His hands slowly, tentatively, awkwardly, gripped Charles's shirt, and he leaned more fully into his hold. It wasn't an actual embrace, but his hands, fisted into his shirt, meant he was holding on.

For a long moment, Charles said nothing. His grip tightened, pulling Edwin more firmly into his embrace. Though they were almost the same height, and Edwin was definitely solid in stature, right now, he felt surprisingly small. Vulnerable.

But perhaps what was most surprising was how it felt.

It was different hugging another ghost. Charles had expected it to feel similar to when he hugged Crystal — more of a memory. He'd never been able to feel her warmth, the weight of her body against his, the scent of her skin, the taste of her tongue — but he remembered what it had felt like during his teenage years, before his death. But Edwin… he could feel him. The way his trim, bony frame felt against him; a coppery scent of blood followed by the rot of decay. He felt feverish in his arms, sticky beneath his hands, against his ghostly skin—he could only assume it was due to Edwin's terror manifesting tenfold. "You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to," Charles finally broke the silence, words low, hushed. "But you don't have to do this alone."

What exactly this was, Charles didn't know. Confronting Simon, perhaps; or whatever research the other had been on about; being afraid, dealing with ancient history…. hell, simply being the first scholar to make it out of Hell's stringent and secret grip. "Told you you were stuck with me, din't I?" he reminded, hoping to bring a bit of levity to lighten the mood. Maybe get Edwin to smile.

"Deep breaths," he encourage after a moment, inhaling deeply as encouragement. Thankfully, Edwin did as instructed. One breath, two… After three, Edwin finally loosened his grip and, a little while later, gently extricated himself from Charles's hold. Charles let his hands slide off him, taking a near imperceptible step back to give him a little space. Much to his relief, Edwin was looking much, much better.

The worst of the blood, bruises, and compound fractures had faded, as well as the deep rings beneath his eyes. His shirt and trousers were still stained, his hair loosely disheveled, but his color had returned. Yes, he was looking much more put together — and Charles felt his chest tighten with relief. He was glad that he'd been able to help, glad that Edwin seemed to be feeling more like himself. "How you feeling now?"

Edwin gave a small grimace, brushing off his shirt as if that would help. "Quite frustrated for succumbing to a fit of histrionics, if you must know." Charles would have objected if he actually knew what histrionics meant, but as it was, Edwin continued on. This time, he did finally look up at Charles, and offered a small smile. "However, you showed a surprising amount of gumption coming to my defense. I must confess, I did not expect it." Whether he was surprised that Charles could be handy in a pinch, or that he was surprised someone had defended him at all, wasn't clear — but Charles smiled a gummy smile all the same, brown eyes warm with pleasure.

"You'll find I'm full of surprises."

Edwin gave a slightly larger smile. "Yes I… I suspect I will." Clearing his throat, he moved pointedly over to his desk before he settled down behind it. He sat stiffly in his chair, his posture so straight Charles wondered if he'd ever slouched a day in his life. Following after, Charles hopped up on the side of the desk next to Edwin, not quite willing to allow too much space between them. Simon might be gone, and Edwin looked far more hale and healthy than he had moments before — but it just felt right sticking close by. Just in case.

Another silence fell between them, though it was less strained than earlier. Edwin looked exhausted, which was quite a feat for a ghost. Charles remained surprisingly still, watching as Edwin straightened a few items on top of his desk. Everything looked pristine from his position but he wouldn't interrupt. Anything he had to do to feel better, feel safe, feel back in control…

"Simon was one of my classmates when I attended St. Hilarion's boarding school." Edwin's voice broke the silence so suddenly, it almost startled Charles right off the desk. Of course that twat was from St. Hil's… Such a distinction meant he liked him even less. Still, Charles said nothing, even as he watched Edwin continue to straighten his desk. "He—" and here, Edwin paused, pursing his lips in thought. His thick eyebrows knit, and he remained quiet for so long Charles wondered if he was going to continue.

It was a lesson in patience, something Charles didn't always have — but he wasn't about to rush him. Not over this.

Thankfully, he didn't need to wait or wonder, because Edwin eventually carried on. "He played a major part in my death." His words were surprisingly matter-of-fact, like he was purposefully trying to keep any emotion out of the statement, like it was common to bump into someone that had a hand in your untimely demise. No fucking wonder Edwin had reacted so strongly to Simon sniffing around.

Charles couldn't believe how Edwin didn't sound more upset about it. He was acting like it was simply something that happened. Like he was recalling something trivial at best.

"How… how so?" Charles tentatively asked, cautiously pressing the topic. There was a lot to unpack in that admittance — how had Edwin died? How was Simon involved? How major was major? Had Simon caused all the blood he'd seen pouring out of Edwin, the shattered bones, the ripped up skin? While Charles didn't know entirely how old Edwin was, he could hazard a guess based on rumors of his time down in Hell, as well as his preferred style of clothing, that he was from the turn of the century. What else could have happened? Perhaps some sort of automobile accident—they had cars or at least jallopies, right? Or maybe one of the great wars?

Edwin only shook his head. "I'm afraid it has already been a far too emotional day, and the story doesn't make for particularly nice conversation." His words were shaky, but not unkind. Charles understood he wasn't in a space to discuss further. Charles wasn't surprised, but he was, admittedly, a little disappointed. He wouldn't push for details, especially for so private and traumatizing event, but that didn't make him less interested in wanting to know.

"No problem, mate."

Edwin actually smiled back, though it was one of relief. He was looking better, Charles, noted. The blood was finally beginning to fade, and Edwin had actually managed to re-manifest his jacket and bow tie. Good. All signs that he was starting to feel a bit more himself.

Smiling, Charles glanced down at the book that sat in front of Edwin, unopened. It was in a language that was unrecognizable to Charles, which did jog his memory. "So about the books you sent. Um. Not sure if it's just me or… what but I haven't a clue how to read the thick one."

Edwin looked surprised before seemingly making up his mind. "No, I suppose you wouldn't have been taught ancient Goetian."

Charles squinted and didn't point out that sounded made up. "Er…. nope. Guess not."

Without missing a beat, Edwin asked, "For the record, what languages do you know?"

Oh fuck, of course he'd ask that. Still, Charles gave shrug and a breezy smile. "English." He could see Edwin waiting for him to continue, could see the exact moment when he realized that was it, that was the entirety of his list. Charles expected some sort of ribbing or even some exasperated comment, but instead, all Edwin did was give a thoughtful hum.

"I see. Then perhaps I might assist in your studies? I dare say the books and scroll I sent have multiple passages that will require translation, and they will be useless to you without." It slowly dawned on Charles that Edwin seemed to expect him to actually read the books he'd sent him. While Charles had been planning to thumb through and try to find a few passages for his paper, he didn't intend on reading them in their entirety.

But admitting that might mean Edwin would take them back, or even decide he didn't wish to help him with his studies. "Could use all the help I can get," he confessed with a smile. It wasn't that Charles wasn't a good student when he applied himself, he just…didn't always pick it up as quick as others. And in the case of a book in a language he didn't even remotely understand, he absolutely needed his help.

Edwin gave a ghost of a smile. "If you've the time, and inclination, we could begin tonight. I don't believe we'll be interrupted further." Edwin looked once more at the door, as if to ensure it would indeed remain a barrier.

"Anyone tries to come around, happy to scare 'em off," Charles answered cheerfully He was quite pleased at the way Edwin tossed him an amused, even pleased, look — his mouth didn't look as strained, and there was some sort of glint in his eye.

"I fear you've quite mistaken me for some sort of damsel in distress."

Charles gave a playful grin. "Nah, mate — I know you can hold your own… But now that you mention it… Would make me a proper hero now if I did think so, wouldn't it?" Not to mention the other perks that often came in rescuing damsels, if the stories were true. "Tell me I wouldn't make a great knight."

Edwin rolled his eyes. "Awful scrawny for one if the stories I grew up with are to be believed."

"Oi! I'm right fit—" he claimed, leaning just a bit closer.

"And we're getting quite off topic." Charles was pretty sure Edwin had given him an appreciative look over but… that might have also been aggravation. It wasn't always easy to tell with Edwin.

"All right, all right." So saying, he slipped off the desk and picked up his backpack. He rustled around in it, before pulling out the book in question. "But uh, you don't have to read it all, you know— I mean. If you just want to focus on part of it, just a small passage or something…" The look Edwin gave him was so affronted by the suggestion Charles immediately walked back his suggestion. "But, you know, whatever you think is best!"

Edwin tilted his head to the side, even as he reached a hand out expectantly. It took Charles a minute to realize he wanted the book, which he hurriedly handed over. "We'll start from the beginning." Of course they would — why would he expect anything less? Still, Charles didn't really mind. It would give Edwin something to focus on, and allow Charles a chance to take notes about whatever-this -book-was-about. "Get comfortable, and I'll begin."

Charles wanted to perch next to Edwin on his desk, but instead, took his seat on the empty spot of Edwin's unused bed. Edwin took his usual seat at his desk. It had been a long time since he'd been read to by anyone, but Edwin's voice was easy to listen to with its posh accent and fuzzy timbre. It was nice, enjoyable even—despite the fact he was talking about some sort of ritual involving the bones of a slaughtered goat.

"Charles, are you writing any of this down?" Edwin asked, though the tone in his voice made it sound more like a command.

Right.

Notes. Better actually pay attention and not get too enchanted by the warm timbre of his voice. Pulling out a pen and notebook from his backpack, Charles settled in and finally got to work.

Notes:

A bit of a longer chapter this time -- building that trust and that friendship takes time, but hopefully Charles has earned a few points.

The title to this week's chapter is a line from My Chemical Romance's song "The World Is Ugly".

I know we're taking the scenic route to plot but I promise things will start picking up, haha. This whole fic is just a journey of vibes... but I hope you stick with me just to see it through!

Hope y'all are keeping warm and cozy for the holidays, and as always, kudos and comments are always welcome!