The world bleeds back into focus slowly like light through a threadbare jumper, Charles blinking against it until the fog clears. Doesn’t even realise it has cleared, at first—it’s dark enough in the room to feel like he’s still squinting at it through a veil. He groans, his head sodding killing him, and curls in on himself like a dead spider.
I am in love with this opening, you set the scene so well.
Charles lurches, and there’s the sound again, complete with a cold dig into his wrists and stomach. He looks down. Chains, wrapped round his torso, lashing him soundly to a sturdy wooden chair with his hands trapped behind the back.
*eats popcorn* oh no
*eats more popcorn* charles in chains!
*yet more popcorn* what a shame he's in this predicament 👀
“I might ask you the same thing.” It’s a crisp, clear voice, light and not a little bit bloody posh. As Charles’ eyes adjust he makes out a shape on the other side of the… classroom? Looks like a classroom anyway, an old one. And there tucked into the opposite corner from Charles there’s another chair, another bloke, chained up about as thoroughly as Charles is. White bloke, tall, slim—probably would have been neat as a pin, if whoever had put him in that chair hadn’t roughed him up a bit first. His neat hair is escaping over his forehead and his button-up shirt is crumpled and dirtied. Good looking lad. Familiar.
Charles noting that Edwin's good looking, aaaahhhhh
“A paperclip?”
Charles considers. “S’not ideal, could break. But yeah, could give it a go.”
“I have one. In my back pocket.”
Of course that's where it is. I wonder however will they retrieve it 🤭
Charles grins. “Mate. You’re my new best friend.”
Edwin ducks his head, just briefly, not quite tucking his little smile away before Charles catches a glimpse of it. “Right. How do we…?”
Awwww Edwin likes being Charles' friend!!
Not exactly dignified, the bit that follows. Charles sort of drags himself along with a semi-continuous scrape across the floor, occasionally bashing into tables and chairs. Edwin, apparently a bit stronger than he looks, goes for picking the heavy chair up for a few seconds at a time and sort of awkwardly waddling with it, setting it down every couple of steps to catch his breath.
he's beauty, he's grace
“Ah!” Edwin half-squeaks, as Charles more or less gropes his arse in the hurry.
Charles is glad they’re back to back—he must be bright red to his bloody chest. “Sorry,” he mumbles, trying to dig around a little less eagerly. Why he thought diving right in with his hand in a sort of cupping position was a good idea…!
Omg Charles, a bit less eagre next time 😂
“That’s—that’s quite alright,” says Edwin with a clear of his throat. “It may have fallen right to the bottom, I’m afraid.”
I had to go back and read that again for the pun 😆
Edwin sighs. “Let us crack on, shall we?”
Charles has more arse jokes he could make off the back of that one, too, but he lets it slide for now. Doesn’t wanna start this relationship off on a bum note.
Charles really is full of cheek today 🤭
Taking a deep breath, Charles shifts again. Leap of faith, innit? Gotta give it a go now and then. “Hold still, yeah? Get you out in a tick.”
Charles immediately putting his faith into Edwin despite not having his memories!!!
“I couldn’t agree more,” says Edwin, straightening his clothes out with a brisk little tug. He’s got a natty little cardigan on over the rumpled shirt—Charles hadn’t noticed, it must’ve slid down his shoulders. It’s dark green and it brings out his eyes, even in the murky room. “Come along, then. Perhaps we might discuss this most peculiar meeting over tea.”
Before Charles can tease Edwin—hopefully—about asking him out, Edwin turns smartly on his heel and marches, with a bloody shocking level of unearned confidence, slap bang into the door.
No one's doing it like him
He shivers, sticking the empty drawer on the table to rub his arms. Whoever snatched him didn't grab him a hoodie or anything. He's still in just his vest, half undressed for sleep, and there's a right chilly draft in this old ruin. He supposes he ought to be glad he'd not got round to kicking off his jeans, too.
No wonder Edwin's asking Charles out, with him running round practically naked 😂
Footsteps creak towards him over the old wood floors. Charles' eyes snap up—and he starts waving his hand the moment he sees Edwin start to shrug his cardy off his shoulders. “Oi, now, you don't have to—”
BOYFRIEND CARDIGAN!!!!
“You’re off—but only by the span of the Adriatic. It’s Latin. Quite sloppy Latin, as it happens,” says Edwin, with a lip curl of distaste.
He's so judgy I love him so much 😂
“I could have done that,” Edwin grumbles.
“Were you hopin’ for a show?” Charles teases.
Edwin’s eyes dart to Charles’ hands, and he clears his throat and doesn't answer. “Well, do go on. What do we have?”
He wasssss
“Very well done on making it as far as the lockbox, dear boys. I doubt you’ll make it much further. I’m sure your time is ticking away, so I won’t keep you. Before I sign off, a little word to the wise; Edwin. You find yourself cellmates with a man you do not know. But oh, he knows you.”
noooooooooooo
The force of Charles’ relief almost crumples him. “Yeah. Better get a wiggle on, eh?”
He's so friggin cute 😭
He takes the fortune teller, fingers brushing against Edwin’s, and lets the ‘you seem like a bloke I wanna be honest for’ go unspoken.
I AM CLIMBING THE WALLS OMG!!!!
“‘Bout that,” says Charles, slowly, turning the dummy keypad over in his hands. “Think we might be barking up the wrong tree, mate.”
Edwin takes it, terribly quiet, turning it over to inspect the utter lack of wires on the other side.
“The numbers are a distraction,” he says at last, slowly, voice suspended on a tightrope. “Just another waste of our time.”
noooooooo
Charles grins, shedding the bulky cardigan. “Knew being a skinny arse was gonna do me good one day. Hold this, mate. And pass us the compass again.”
Noodle boy to the rescue!
“Alright, mate?” Charles picks up the cardboard box he'd salvaged and shoves it into Edwin’s arms. “Got you somethin’!”
“I—what—Charles, time is rather—”
“Everything you need in that box to nail that wanker for good, I had a look,” says Charles, brushing past Edwin to dig through the dented remains of the lockbox on the table. “Cocky bastard thought he could blow it up with the rest of the evidence.”
What a thoughtful gift!
“I’m always careful,” says Charles, innocently—before dropping the bottle on the floor and crushing it with the heel of his shoe.
The world lists and lurches, or maybe that’s just Charles’ stomach—he feels seasick, or like he’s been tipped upside down and shaken all around. He bends double and catches himself on his knees as the wave crashes over him and leaves him gasping for breath.
“Fuck,” he wheezes, coughing and groaning, as about thirty years of memories wedge themselves rudely into his head.
“Charles…?” Edwin croaks thinly.
Charles looks at him, and this time he sees him—Edwin Payne. ‘Course it is. Who else could it be?
Charles is so perceptive!!! Can write over his memories, but you can't stop him from being a detective!
This is sooo good!! You set the mystery up so well, and I loved all the twists! I had so much fun reading this 💜💜💜
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EveryMomentADifferentSound on Chapter 1 Sun 12 Oct 2025 06:55PM UTC
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