Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Charles didn’t know how it was possible to both be freezing cold and burning hot at the same time.

His every breath stung.

His limbs all felt sluggish.

His every movement was like wading through molasses.

His teeth not being able to chatter fully only by the circumstance of his rugged panting.

But he couldn’t stop running. He’s lost in the woods and doesn’t really understand which way was back to campus, but his only thought was to get away.

A fleeting thought told him that he was probably going the wrong direction, deeper into the expansive forest. That he should stop and think for once, instead of acting on impulse. But his phone was at the bottom of the lake and Charles was just glad he wasn’t there along with it.

And, from experience, just because something bad stopped temporarily, didn’t mean it stopped permanently. Hiding was the only safe option—wait it out.

His foot catches over a stray root, sending him tumbling down. And once he was down, Charles couldn’t stop shivering. Couldn’t push through all of the pain and numbness that was overcoming his body to get up. So, like always, he does the next best thing in the moment. Half dragging himself along the ground, Charles comes to rest at the base of the closest tree—hoping desperately that it, along with the surrounding foliage, might warm him up enough to continue back to his dorm. Or an infirmary. Or the coffee shop. Whichever safe haven came first, he wasn’t all too picky.

Curling up upon himself, he vaguely wonders how long it would take for someone to find him. One of his friends or campus security.

“Maybe,” he mumbles to himself, “maybe one of ‘em is looking for me right now.” He rests his head upon his knees, the coldness seeping into his marrow.

“Maybe,” his words were slurring and if he was in a righter state of mind he would be worried about this, “maybe just gottta… wait right here ‘n they’ll find me. ‘s what yer supposed to do, innt?”

His eyelids felt unbearably heavy. Maybe he could just take a little nap. Maybe that would warm him up. Conserve energy and all that. Yeah, that sounds aces right now.

Just for a sec.

He feels a warm breath against his hand—too well-paced to be some random breeze—and he shoots upright, suddenly wide awake.

When did he fall asleep?

Though the question became quickly moot as he locked eyes with the most fuck off huge wolf Charles had ever seen… mere inches from his face.

Chapter Text

Several Months Earlier

First day of Uni.

Charles has been counting down the days—the minutes even—till he could get out of his house and never look back. Once he received that acceptance letter from St. Hilarion University, complete with a scholarship even, he felt like a weight had lifted from his chest.

And here he was, steps away from his new dorm and new roommate—hopefully new friend. It’s not like Charles didn’t have any friends. On the contrary, Charles had a lot of friends. He would like to think of himself as an all-around good chap—decent grades, decent looks, decent ability at sports. Though his father didn’t particularly… enjoy company at his house. And sneaking out was out of the question; he tried once to go to a party in Grade 9 and sported bruises for weeks. He never tried again. And all that to say, while Charles had a lot of friends, he wouldn’t say he had many good friends. Let alone a best friend.

But this was a time for change. He finally, finally, has some semblance of independence.

Opening the door to his dorm, he was surprised to see his roommate already completely moved in on his side of the room and… reading? Fairly intensely by the look of it.

“Cheers, mate!” Charles said, grinning, “Name’s Charles. I’m your new roommate.” He extends a hand to the brunette absorbed in his book.

The boy nearly jumped out of his chair, startled at the intrusion—was he already that settled in? Haven’t the dorms only been open for a few hours?

“Oi, sorry ‘bout that. Didn’t mean to give you a scare,” Charles weakly amends, arm still awkwardly hanging out in greeting.

“It is—” the boy finally speaks. “It is quite all right.” He turns his whole body to face Charles, the movement fluid and almost elegant, before standing up. “Edwin. Edwin Payne,” his new roommate—Edwin—finally supplies, reciprocating his handshake.

“Looks like you already picked your side of the room, yeah?” Charles says, trying to keep conversation going to ensure a good first impression, “all set up and everything. Makes me look like an underachiever.”

Charles takes in the décor that Edwin has laid out. His side of the room looks like it was taken out of an old timey library: weathered, leather bound tomes take up any free shelving space available—even some extra shelving Charles assumed Edwin brought in. Charles can barely make out the titles of most of them, and others seem to be in other languages, even. Despite having the same basic furniture, the way Edwin gussied it up made it look older, refined; like they were some sturdy heirloom pieces as opposed to carbon copy, mass-manufactured things. Despite the grandeur though, Edwin’s space felt more comfortable than stuffy. Everything felt well loved.

“An organized space is an organized mind, as father would say…” Edwin trailed off, in explanation.  He closes the book open on his desk, bringing two fingers with a flourish up to his temple to say a number—the page number of the book he was reading? He seems to fully take in Charles after this.

“You do not seem to have much with you,” Edwin observes mildly. A rugged looking duffel bag at their feet. “Is that all you have?”

“Yeah, well,” Charles pats his canvas bookbag good-naturedly, like how one would pet a dog, “Only really need the essentials, yeah?” He swallows any further explanation—how he wanted to leave most of his old life at home, how his father raged when he told him he was going off to university. How he was told to never come back… not that he necessarily wanted to. And his mum, well his mum was just tearful but silent.  

He shakes the memory from his head and grins, “I mean, isn’t that the classic uni experience?”

Edwin hums. “I suppose…” He looks at Charles inquisitively. Edwin starts to slightly pace around his new roommate. “But, what about your textbooks… Notebooks? Writing utensils?” Edwin gazes at the duffel bag and bookbag once more, examining. “Toiletries?”

“Ah yeah,” Charles chuckles, “Figured I’d get them here when I needed them!”  Edwin frowns, seemingly displeased at this answer. Taking out a pocket watch—people still carried pocket watches? Wasn’t that something only stuffy old bankers carried?—he checks the time before looking resolutely at Charles.

“The shops will not be closing for another two hours. We should have plenty of time to pick things up.” Edwin starts to gather a few belongings—a wallet, keys, and small notebook embossed with some sort of coat of arms—and stashes them amongst pockets in his coat. “Let’s get going.”

“Uh… what?” Charles figured he would get at least sort of settled before trying to figure out how to get other necessities and uni supplies, especially given his limited budget. Edwin, leaving no room for argument, starts out of their shared room.

“Come along, Charles.”  

And Charles, a bit baffled and a bit curious, follows Edwin.

Chapter Text

St. Hilarion University was picturesque—old brick buildings dotting a sprawling campus on a hill, surrounded by a deep, emerald forest. The forest had several pathways through the brunt of it to the small town nearby, set up to accommodate the needs of a bustling university a good ways outside of London. Some of these pathways were officially paved roads and walkways; others worn dirt routes created by numerous students in search of more optimal pathing. There were rumors of a vast network of these homegrown pathways, leading to the town, other campus buildings, and even to secret meet up spots (for both legal and slightly less legal activities).

While there were a few buses that took students and faculty to and from the town, it was also just as easy to walk one of the aforementioned walkways down into town.

Which was exactly what Edwin was aiming to do. With Charles slightly jogging to keep up—how could such a slender guy walk so fast?

“Oi, we really don’t have to do this, you know,” Charles starts as he was able to finally match pace with his new roommate.  “I can just come back after classes or something. Get the lay of the land, yeah? I’m sure there is something else you would rather be doing.”

“Nonsense, you need to be adequately prepared,” Edwin brushed Charles off, continuing his steady pacing, “And, frankly, it will bother me to no end if you are not.” Edwin proceeded to reach into his inner coat pocket, pulling out the palm sized notebook and a pen. “Now, what did you bring with you? What do you still need? What courses are you taking?” Edwin continues to list more and more questions, jotting down notes before Charles even had the chance to properly answer all of them. The more that Edwin wrote, the more anxious Charles became—more things to purchase meant more money he needed to spend. And he didn’t have a lot to begin with, having come in on scholarship and all. While Charles wanted to be cordial with his roomie, he didn’t really want to give Edwin a full financial backstory after knowing him for only a handful of hours.

He needed to nip this in the bud. Charles reaches out to Edwin’s arm to stop him—noting a slight flinch and curious glance to where Charles’s hand connected with his bicep.

“Hey, look,” Charles tries to keep his voice light and appeasing, “I’m really glad you seem to be wanting to help me and all that, but… I don’t really quite have the money for everything right now. So, let’s just go back to our room, yeah?”

Edwin tilted his head slightly, examining Charles, “Of course, yes. I sometimes forget I am in a position of privilege.” He hums for a bit, “Let me cover for you, then. Consider it… a gift. For both of our sakes.”

“Th-that’s,” Charles couldn’t believe that Edwin would just casually offer to drop that amount of money on a person he barely knew. “That’s too much, mate. I… I couldn’t ask for that. You barely know me.”

Edwin gently takes Charles hand from his upper arm, where it was still laying, and sets it back down at Charles’s side.  “Please, Charles, let me do this for you. I am not…” He pauses, struggling for the right word, “the easiest person to get along with, but I would much like to set us off on the right foot as we will be seeing much of each other in the foreseeable future.”

The sincerity of the request took Charles off-guard for a moment, his mouth slightly agape. “Uh… oh… kay.” The only answer he could really manage out and the only one Edwin seemed like he would accept.

Edwin nods gratefully, reopening his notebook to continue his inquiry into Charles, what he brought with him, and, even, some preliminary interests and preferences. Charles dutifully answers as much as he can while he and his interesting new roommate head further down the road to the town. Charles doesn’t remember the last time someone took this much interest in him. He would note later how his cheeks were sore from smiling.

Their time shopping both seemed to go by fast, and yet they about closed out every store; Edwin examining the minutiae of the supplies Charles picked out, often directing him to more high quality—yet more expensive—options. His roommate waved Charles’s concerns off every time. Often, some knick-knack caught both of their attention and would be unceremoniously added into their carts. And Edwin would posthumously add that item to the list in his notebook under a section called “Miscellaneous.”

It was all so incredibly peculiar, but Charles found the whole thing endearing nonetheless. He wondered what gave Edwin the impression that he was bad with people; He seemed right aces in Charles book, especially considering he still knew Edwin for only a few hours.

They finally walked back up the hill to campus while the sun was starting to set. Edwin still insisting on them walking and Charles shrugging—he liked the fresh air anyways. In exchange, he equally insisted to Edwin that he wanted to carry the bulk of their bags.

“They don’t call be Charles ‘One-Trip’ Rowland for nothin,’” he jokes as his arms are positively adorned with various paper and plastic bags, while Edwin merely carried enough that his hands were full.

“Do—” Edwin responded, puzzled, “Do people actually call you that?”

“Well… not yet, anyway,” Charles winked at his roommate, “Gotta start somewhere, yeah?”

Edwin looked away from Charles for a hot second before looking back at him. “If you are hoping that I will be one of the first to call you that, I believe you will be sorely disappointed, Charles.” That earned a slight chuckle from the both of them.

“Y’know, I tried to look you up on socials when I got your name, yeah?” Charles comments, switching topics in a way that should feel awkward, yet felt seamless with how they had been interacting throughout the day. “Lotta Edwin Payne’s but none of them our age.”

Edwin hums, looking decidedly in the middle distance. “I do not partake in social media. My family rather… discouraged the use of technology. By the time I could explore out on my own; I found I had no interest in the phenomenon.”

“Wow. Good for you. I’m proper addicted, unfortunately,” Charles laments lightheartedly. “What do you do for fun then?” He realizes faintly that Edwin inquired a lot about Charles’s likes and interests but didn’t comment much on his own.

“Mostly read or study,” Edwin notes, finally out of his pseudo-daze and glancing once more to his roommate. “Though I am not a total luddite, I do own an e-reader and laptop.”

“Wish I read more,” Charles offhandedly comments, “Hard for me with my dyslexia and all.” It took an unfortunate amount of time for Charles to actually get a diagnosis, to learn that his issues with reading weren’t some sort of intrinsic fault in his character. His father would just yell at him, calling him stupid or lazy or some other insult, whenever he would come home with some bad mark in English or Languages. It took a thankfully observant teacher in Year 9 that actually helped him figure it out. But he had still been afraid to go back to any sort of casual reading since.  

“Have you considered audiobooks?” Edwin offers, “I find them to be very accessible. Also, someone reading to you can be very soothing.”

“Huh, never thought about it,” Charles beamed at Edwin, “You’re a good friend, Edwin. You know that?”

Edwin stopped walking abruptly, looking positively baffled. It was like he was trying to see if he could get some sort of answer out of Charles if he just stared at him long enough.

“You okay, mate?”

“You called me your friend,” Edwin stated, equal parts a fact and a question. But still with an entirely confused look on Edwin’s face.

“Yeah,” Charles looked around them, like he was missing something, “And?”

“You have only known me for less than a day and you called us friends.”

“I’m… I’m still not getting what’s wrong.”

“I just,” Edwin looked down at his feet, like he was a tad embarrassed, and started again, “I don’t think I have ever had someone call me their friend.” He still stated this as a fact, with the same impartiality as someone stating the weather. The only note to any emotion about the subject was his prior glance downward. There’s something that panged in Charles’s heart at that fact.

“Their loss then,” he replied cheerfully, shrugging. “Seems like you’re stuck with me now, Edwin Payne.”

Chapter Text

Edwin and Charles, validating his comment from the first day, stuck together throughout the first weeks of university (aside from their separate courses). Their dorm, at first a space informally divided into two sides, quickly became one room representing an amalgamation of their personalities and personal effects.

It was a bit unnerving for Charles to finally have a space of his own, without the fear of his father taking out his frustrations on Charles’s things. And now, thanks to Edwin’s overwhelming kindness, he finally has nice things.

In Charles’s childhood house, his dingy basement room was littered with worn out furniture, threadbare sheets, and vintage posters of bands he had never seen—primarily to cover up any dents or holes in the plaster.

Their dorm was really the closest thing Charles had ever had to a home. And that was in no small part to Edwin, who might now be the closest thing Charles had ever had to a best mate.

He tries not to think about how pathetic that must sound if he ever said it out loud.

While Edwin was still fairly tightlipped about many aspects of his life, Charles was able to wear down his roommate’s meticulously built walls and get him to spill on certain things.

Charles learned that Edwin was pursuing a joint honours in Linguistics and History, with an interest with older languages. And that he already was proficient in a scary number of foreign languages already.

“I do not know if I would consider myself fluent, by any means,” Edwin elaborated, “Many modern languages share similar roots, so to understand one makes it significantly easier to pick up the semantics and structure of another language.”

“I dunno, mate,” Charles retorted, “Sounds pretty fluent to me.” Edwin rolled his eyes; something that seemed like Charles should have been offended by, but he saw no malice in the gesture.

Charles also picked up, from the few books of Edwin’s that he actually recognized, that Edwin was a fan of mysteries. Particularly old school detective stories.

“People often consider Sherlock Holmes to be the greatest literary detective,” Edwin commented when Charles asked about his seeming collection, “but I am more partial to Hercule Poirot myself.”

“More of an Encyclopedia Brown fan here,” Charles reminisced. It was one of the few books he remembered enjoying as a child. Edwin lit up at this factoid, rummaged around a box nearby, and brought out a subset of a familiar series of books.

“Truly one of the catalysts to my love of the genre.” Edwin passed the books to Charles, who handled them with great care. The thin books looked well read and well-loved. A grin came to Charles’s face at the thought of a tiny Edwin—somehow also wearing a bowtie like his older counterpart—reading and re-reading these books. “I fancied myself starting detective agency like Brown when I was a child.”

“What’s stoppin’ you from starting one now?”

Edwin merely scoffed and rolled his eyes at the suggestion.

Edwin offered to read Charles the old series of books after watching his roomie scan through a few with a fond sort of nostalgia. And, despite seeming a tad awkward and childish at the beginning, the duo seemed to mutually enjoy reliving a key aspect of their childhoods. Charles found Edwin’s voice to be oddly engaging yet calming at the same time. He could even hear the thinly undercurrent of excitement that Edwin seemed to have in recreating the stories aloud.

It had been long enough since he had initially read the books that Charles didn’t remember the answers to the mysteries presented. He and Edwin would postulate the solution written in the back of the books before actually turning to reveal the answer. Charles suspected that Edwin actually remembered every mystery and its corresponding solution, but he never let on like he did. Always played along with Charles in trying to piece together what happened.

This blossoming friendship made Charles feel all warm inside. He wanted to do something in return for his mate. While Edwin brushed off any attempt by Charles to pay Edwin back monetarily (not that he had much in the way of money to actually give), he reckoned that Edwin wouldn’t turn down a gift if given one by Charles. Edwin was much too proper and polite to refuse a gift.

And that, along with several other practical reasons like being able to afford food, led him to look for a part-time job in the nearby town. After several lackluster interviews—Charles unfortunately lacking any sort of relevant experience due to his focus on trying to get a scholarship in his last few years of secondary school—he found himself at The Cut & Brew Café after spotting a dingy looking “Help Wanted” sign in the window; the words written hastily on a piece of notebook paper with questionable stains splattered across the page.

But, hey, Charles wasn’t in the market to be picky.

A chime of bells signaled his entrance into the modest coffee shop. The interior was eclectic and chaotic yet humming with an energy Charles found pleasant. White tile and countertops contrasting with black leather and glowing neon signage—seemingly the only lighting in the place. Punk music was even growling in the background, a far cry from the typical smooth jazz of more conventional cafes. If it wasn’t for all of the furniture and coffee signage, you could have told Charles that he was in some underground Berlin nightclub, and he would’ve believed you. But he kinda dug it.

Over the hiss of the espresso machine and murmuring of fellow students posted up with their laptops and lattes, a girl behind the counter asked for his order. The accent was from the States, if Charles was not mistaken.

“Oh,” he responded, finally spotting the barista, “I’m—I’m not here for coffee—” She gave him a withering look as to say, ‘then why the hell are you in a coffee shop?’ before Charles continued. “I uhm, I’m here about the help wanted sign.” He juts his thumb towards the window.

“Ah,” the barista—Crystal, if her nametag was to be believed—remarked, “that. One sec.” Charles found himself rocking on his feet as Crystal made her way through a curtain of thick plastic strips.

Fairly soon after, the plastic curtain teeters once more as Crystal comes back out, followed by a tall, tattooed woman adorned in a black apron and white button-up. Crystal nodded at Charles.

“This is…” she prompted.

“Uh.. Charles. Charles Rowland.” He moves to offer his hand to the taller woman. She keeps her arms crossed, making no effort to return the greeting.

“Yeah. He’s here for the job listing.” With that resounding introduction, Crystal went back to making a drink for someone, more or less leaving Charles alone with this immensely threatening presence. Charles tries to make his attempt at a handshake into a smooth movement to brush his hair back. It went as well as you might expect.

“So…” She wipes the back of her hand across her mouth before re-crossing her arms, “you ever work at a coffee shop before?”

“No”

“Ever worked in food service?” She was being relentless—barely giving Charles any wiggle room to speak a word in edgewise.

“No”

“Do you have any job experience?”

“Uh… No” The woman looked even more displeased, if that was possible. Charles was cursing internally. This was going about as well as his other interviews. How was he supposed to get job experience if no one would give him any job?

The tattooed barista turned to walk away, seemingly ending the interview. “Wait!” Charles about shouted, feeling some form of desperation. The woman pivoted back to give him an incredulous look but seemed to let him continue.

“I might not have any job experience yet, but. But. I’m a quick learner, yeah?” He’s rambling. He knows he’s rambling. “And I’ve been told by many teachers and aunties that I’m quite personable. Charming and all. That’s, that’s good for customer service, right?”

She still doesn’t look quite impressed. Charles swallows a comment about how this place could use a more friendly touch if Crystal and her were anything to go by.

“Please,” he opts for instead. A surprising amount of sincerity bled into the simple plea, more than he intended.

“Come on, Jenny,” Crystal chimes in, apparently eavesdropping on their entire “interview.” “Term is ramping up and we’ve been looking for an extra set of hands to deal with all the added business. We can barely handle the demand as it is.”

Jenny turns her gaze to Crystal, who seems to only hold back her stare. A beat passed and then a beleaguered sigh comes out of Jenny. She looks up at the ceiling.

“God you kids will be the death of me,” she exhales before looking back at Charles, who tries to quickly plaster on a customer friendly smile—adapted from a placating grin that Charles was all too familiar with.

“Fine. You have the job. Starts tomorrow.” Jenny, seemingly addressing Crystal now, continues, “You’re in charge of him. One slip up and both of your asses are out. Got it?”

“Got it,” Crystal replies returning to her prior task, as if this whole affair was just another day at the office. As if she didn’t put her job on the line for Charles.

“Got it?” Jenny directed this to Charles now.

He jumped a bit at her severe tone. “Definitely. You won’t regret it.”

“Oh, trust me, I already am.” Jenny, sounding like she needed a multi-hour nap after a small conversation, headed back behind the plastic curtain to her office, presumably.

“Don’t worry about her,” Crystal remarked at Charles’s intent gaze on Jenny’s retreat. She put a series of beans in a grinder, pressing a button to make in whirl noisily. “She’s a big softie under all those bitchy spikes.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Charles muttered out, not quite believing Crystal’s assessment. A blur of black fabric headed towards his face breaks him out of his daze. He fumbles a bit but ultimately manages to catch it—a black apron, like Jenny and Crystal’s.

“Nice catch,” Crystal smirked, “See you tomorrow, Charles.”

Chapter Text

When Charles woke up the next day for his first day of work—at a frankly ungodly hour in his opinion—he noticed that Edwin was already gone; His bed neatly made in his absence and nothing seemingly out of place. Did Edwin come back to their room last night even? In thinking back, Charles doesn’t remember being stirred awake by his roommate at any point. And he was normally a light sleeper.

“Huh,” Charles mumbled to himself, wiping the sleep from his eyes, “Must be at the library or something.” It would about be the only other place you could find Edwin on campus, if he wasn’t in their room or in class.

Charles grabbed his phone to see if he had any messages from Edwin; granted his friend rarely texted, being one of the few people in their age group that preferred calling. Nothing. But he did note the time, or lack thereof.

“Oh bollocks,” Charles swore, quickly waking the fuck up. He rushed out to make it on time, his faint curiosity to Edwin’s whereabouts pushed from his mind in the panic.

Between the training that Crystal put him through and the lectures he had today, Charles was wiped by the time he made it back to his room in the early evening. But hey, he was at least able to not burn an espresso by the end of his first shift!

(His latte “art” left a lot to be desired.)

As he trudged into their room, he spots Edwin at his desk, head propped up on one of his hands—seemingly dead asleep. The lights were even still on overhead.

And Charles thought he was exhausted. Edwin looked positively wiped, visible dark circles under his eyes. Despite living with him for the past several weeks, Charles had never seen Edwin asleep before; his roommate was either already awake and at his desk in the morning or it was pitch black in their room before he heard any sort of even breathing.

…not that he was listening to Edwin’s breathing or anything. He was just a light sleeper is all.

Being one of the first times he’d been able to easily observe Edwin asleep, Charles noted that his friend actually looked… relaxed. At peace. Still.

People regularly made comments on Charles’s energy, both in front of his face and especially when people didn’t think he was listening. Since he was a kid, Charles has an almost ingrained inability to stand still. But Edwin was the same way, actually. His roommate’s constant energy was a more subtle one, unlike the physicality of Charles’s. He always needed to be doing something, whether that was reading, writing, or some other studious activity. It might be another reason why Charles liked Edwin: his energy matched Charles’s own and, therefore, Edwin never tried to force Charles into some box—like his teachers and parents often did.

That all being said, Charles held a deep enjoyment at witnessing this seldom seen side of Edwin. He also knew that his friend would be especially persnickety if he woke up like this: All out of sorts and most likely with a crick in his neck.

“Up we go,” Charles says as he goes to hoist Edwin up—putting the arm not keeping his roommate’s head up around his shoulders. Bringing him to a standing position, Edwin jerked awake suddenly, almost headbutting Charles in the nose.

Edwin gasped almost violently, trying to quickly look around. His eyes were only fully open for a second before drooping back to a half-lidded position. Though from Charles peripheral vision, it seemed like Edwin was fighting to stay more awake.

God, what was he up to yesterday to get him this tired? Or did Edwin just really do bad with all-nighters?

“Oi, easy there,” Charles goes to reassures, “Just gettin’ you back to bed, mate.”

“Where—where am I?” Edwin’s words were a bit slurred with grogginess and almost a bit frantic. Charles shuffles him closer to his bed, meeting some resistance with his friend.

“Home, sweet home,” Charles chuckled out. This flustered Edwin was an equally amusing and unseen aspect which Charles quickly found that he enjoyed. “You were asleep on your desk. Bout dead on your feet, yeah.”

“Oh,” Edwin simply replied, now helping Charles maneuver him around. Barely.

“And I knew you’d be proper cranky come morning if I left you there.”

“Ah,” Edwin nodded his head several times for emphasis, “Yes.”

Charles attempted to deposit Edwin softly. Unfortunately, his sleep-deprived mate had other thoughts. Edwin tried to fall onto his mattress—pretty much forgetting that he was being held up—throwing off Charles’s balance and leading them both to land gracelessly onto Edwin’s bed. The two of them nearly embracing in this new position, with Charles half on top of Edwin.

“My apologies, Charles,” Edwin mumbled out, eyes about closed and face so close to Charles’s that he could feel the former’s breath. Charles extricated himself from his roommate’s arms.

“No worries, mate,” Charles quickly answers, a tad breathless. “Get some sleep, yeah?” He patted Edwin’s knee a few times, moved to grab his toiletries, and rushed out to the nearest bathroom, slamming his hand on the light switch as he left.

He could hear Edwin’s slow breathing when he crept back into their dorm an hour later.

Chapter Text

That night was never really brought up by Edwin—aside from a chocolate muffin being on Charles’s bedside table when he woke up the next morning. Edwin already gone from their room. When Charles saw Edwin next, as the two routinely grabbed lunch together, he tried to bring it up.

“Hey, ‘win,” Charles started, the two of them sitting on one of the benches that surrounded the main quad on campus. “What had you all out of sorts last night? All-nighter or somethin’?”

He felt like he noticed Edwin stiffen a tick, before nodding, “I had a particularly grueling paper due today. My apologies if you felt put upon by my… negligence.”  

“No, no, it’s not that,” Charles put a reassuring hand on Edwin’s shoulder. He feels a slight tremor at the initial contact, “Just wanted to make sure you were okay, yeah? Nothing else.”

“Ah,” Edwin looked down at his lap, “I appreciate the concern, Charles, truly. I’m doing well now.” He finally looked back at Charles, with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, “No need to worry.”

“Yeah,” Charles replied, his tone portraying a slight suspicion, “Just… if you need anything, you know you can always come to me, Edwin.”

The smile started to reach his eyes. “Of course. You can always come to me with anything as well, Charles.”

Charles didn’t push the matter any further, even though something about Edwin’s explanation didn’t feel like the full truth of it all. Edwin was methodical and meticulous—almost to a fault. So how would he allow himself to slip so late on a deadline that he would need to stay up all night to finish it? Definitely something more up Charles’s alley, if he was being honest with himself.

It was nagging at him.

Maybe he was thinking too much into this.

Aside from that lingering frustration, Charles had been thriving. He was doing well enough in his coursework, despite it being, frankly, mind-numbingly boring. And at the cafe, Charles had been settling into a groove with Crystal; based on their respective strengths (to put it nicely), they decided to have Charles handle more of the front of house work—namely the register and dealing with customers—while Crystal worked on the various beverages that The Cut & Brew served. He’s even been able to make Jenny smile one or two times. Between the reasonable pay and the tips they were able to scrounge up—Charles had the brills idea of having two tip jars where customers could vote with tips on silly things which really boosted their intake—he was starting to get to a vaguely stable place in terms of his finances. Even enough extra saved up that he could actually purchase a gift for Edwin now. Which, based on the state he was in, might be the very thing to lift spirits and get him out of whatever funk that was.

Charles started to noodle on what type a gift he would get someone like Edwin as he walked to The Cut & Brew for his morning shift a few weeks later.

A book?

Would that too be cliché for Edwin? He about owns a whole library in their small space.

A fancy pen? Like one of those fancy tipped ink quill type pens that are made from some weird material like Peruvian marble or Dinosaur bone.

...Maybe that was a bit much.

Shaking the thoughts out of his head, Charles spies a fairly empty café through the main windows as he approaches. Just Crystal at the counter and some guy on the other side of it—a customer, Charles assumes. They seemed to be having some sort of conversation, with the guy leaning quite some ways over into her space. The fedora the man was wearing blocking any further view of his and Crystal’s faces.

A series of bells ringing signaled Charles’s entrance to the coffeehouse. He could hear the trail ends of a conversation abruptly stopped. Crystal jerked her head towards Charles; she was angry and… teary eyed. A heat builds up in Charles’s chest.

“Just go, David,” she grits out. The man, David, lifted up his hands in feigned innocence, leaning away.

“You know I’m right, Crys.”

“Just go!” She about shouted, her arm now extending and pointing to the door.

“Yeah, mate,” Charles butts in, “Piss off, why don’t you?”

David takes a look at him, raising one eyebrow incredulously. If the fedora wasn’t enough, the guy just oozed entitled knob. It was a look Charles unfortunately knew too well. He scoffed in response to what he saw in Charles.

“This is who you’re hanging out with now?” David barked out a sharp laugh, walking towards the door, and subsequently Charles. Leaning against one of the windows leading to the entrance, Charles crossed his arms over his chest. If for nothing else, the gesture was to stop Charles from knocking the daylights out of the absolute arse. And in predictable arse fashion, David roughly “bumped” his shoulder into Charles before chimes signaled his departure. Despite having plenty of space to move around him.

“You okay, Crystal?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Crystal mutters out, rubbing the heel of her palm against her eyes, “I’m just… I’m just gonna take my break now.” He thinks she says something further, but Crystal about sprints out the back before Charles can register anything else, shouting something to Jenny about going on break.

“I’m taking my break now too, Jenny!” He yelled as he instinctually followed Crystal out the back.

“What do I even pay you two for—” He hears Jenny say exasperated as the heavy back door slams the rest of her annoyance quiet. Charles might pay for that later, but he couldn’t let both of his new friends stew in some shit alone. It was already enough that Edwin was seemingly hiding something.

Luckily, Charles didn’t have to go running far to catch up with Crystal. A plume of smoke caught his eye—Crystal leaning against the back wall of the café, foot tapping rapidly and vape pen gripped in one of her fists.

“Didn’t seem like you were okay,” he gently offered, drawing her attention. “You wanna talk about what happened in there?” Charles juts out his thumb back at the building in emphasis. She seemed to glare at him for a second before directing her stare back across the alley. Crystal took another drag from her pen, releasing another voluminous cloud, and nodded to the space beside her on the wall. An invitation.

Moving next to Crystal, Charles mirrors her lean and stare across the alley. He quietly waits for her to start speaking, in order not to have her feel pressured when she already seems to be wound up. Her foot continues to tap up and down rhythmically.

“He was my ex,” she forces out after a few minutes of silence. “David. Real dick.”

“Seemed like it.”

“Abusive.”

“…I’m sorry.” Charles tries to tamp down the rising indignation.  

“Just,” she exhales a huge breath, “he’s the reason I’m here. I was trying to get away from him. And now he’s—” The tapping stops. “He fucking followed me here.” An aggravated noise comes out of Crystal, no longer leaning but standing straight—looking about ready to pounce.

She starts pacing instead. “And I was doing good! Left my shitty parents. Left my shitty, abusive ex. Started to have a normal life and it’s like—” She gestures around herself and spins to look directly at Charles.

“Like I’m back at fucking square one!” She throws her arms out. In response to the confused look on Charles’s face, Crystal elaborates.

“David’s fucking blackmailing me,” she grits out.

“About what?”

“Where I am. What I’m doing. What I’ve done…”

Charles takes a few steps closer to Crystal. “I’m sure it’s not that bad. What you’ve done. You’re aces to me, if that helps.” He placed his hands on Crystal arms, attempting to provide some amount of comfort and calm.

“You barely know me,” she hisses. Her tone feels combative yet… morose.

“I’d like to think we are friends,” Charles refutes, “We see each other ‘bout every day.”

“You don’t know who I was. Before this,” she roughly shrugs Charles presence away. He backs up a tad in response. “I was and am a shit friend and an even shittier person.”

“Lotta words with not much to back up, innit?”  Crystal looks at Charles with an exasperated disbelief, like she expected him to just leave—to decide she just wasn’t worth the effort. “I see you sneak treats to kids when they pop in the shop. When you pack up our leftovers to give to that homeless guy couple blocks down.” His voice became more determined as he continued, “You even risked your neck for me. You didn’t even know me. Didn’t have to help me get a job. But you did, yeah?”

“I—”

“None of that. Maybe you did some bad shite in your past. Whatever. It’s what you do now that counts.” He crosses his arms, a blazing intensity in his eyes, “And the Crystal I know now is pretty damn cool, if you ask me.”

Crystal lowers her gaze, an anger replaced with a tiredness. “That’s all well and good Charles, but if I can’t get David the money, I might be on the streets, too. Or back with my parents.” The last word feeling distasteful in her mouth. Like it was the worser of the two options. Charles could definitely relate to that feeling.

“How much do you need?” He simply asks. Crystal’s head jerks up to catch his gaze, like she couldn’t believe what she just heard.

“What?”

“How much do you need?”

“I—” Crystal stuttered out. “Don’t you need that money?”

Charles shrugged. “Not nearly as much as you do. So, spit it out, how much do you need?”

“Just enough to cover rent for a few months,” she stammers out. “I live above the café—Jenny already gives me a deep discount, but I had to give nearly everything I had to David and—”

“Done,” Charles announced. “Just text me the amount and I can get you the money today.”

“I—thank you, Charles,” Crystal settles on, a grin coming to her face and eyes watering up. “You are a good friend.”

“See? We are friends!”

A chuckle bubbles out of Crystal.

“I guess we are…”

The back door swings open abruptly.

“I’d like to think I’m a real cool boss and all,” Jenny says, popping her head across the threshold to stare at her employees, “but this is waaayyy past the standard half hour break. And we are starting to get swamped.” She narrows the eyes at the two of them. Motioning her head for them to follow her inside.

Crystal gives Charles a quick hug before going back in.

Chapter Text

It was hard to keep going with the rest of his shift with all the emotion spent in the morning. There was a palpable shift in the atmosphere on their side of the counter. Crystal, still affected by the run-in with David, snapped at a customer that returned their drink twice, citing it was not hot enough. Charles thinks she might have thrown the still very hot drink at the bloke if he hadn’t swooped in and done damage control. He opted to be even more cordial to offset Crystal’s very reasonable bad mood.

Suffice it to say, Charles was emotionally drained when he left work. And he still had a lecture he had to go to. Bollocks. At least he could just blend into the mass of other students in the same room. He just had to make sure he didn’t dose off. He was (mostly) successful.

When dismissed, Charles gained a rush of energy—the one that comes from the excitement of being done for the day. But he wasn’t truly done for the day, he still had to grab the money for Crystal, having texted him the amount during class. He jogged back to his residence hall, wanting to capitalize on his sudden wakefulness.

Rushing into his dorm, he spies Edwin sitting at his desk, reading intently before quickly slamming shut whatever book he was reading as Charles about ran into the room.

He wholly turns around in his chair to face this roommate. “Are you okay Charles?” One of his eyebrows cocked up with curiosity.

Charles’s eyes quickly scan the area around his bed, not facing Edwin as he answered, “Yeah, yeah, just… looking… for…” He finds what he was looking for: a Magic 8-ball. “This!”

He holds it up, spinning to show it off to Edwin.

“Needing a question answered, are you?” He stands up to face Charles. “I believe there are far more accurate instruments for such inquiries.” Edwin crosses his arms and smirks.

Charles chuckled at his mate’s deadpan response. “You’d be surprised.” He holds up the Magic 8-ball next to his ear, putting on a show, “Oh all-knowing Magic 8-ball, will I come into money soon?” He exaggeratedly shakes the toy with both hands. Flipping it over to the window of the fortune teller, Charles notes Edwin’s bemused expression. “All signs point to… yes!”

“Oh really?”

“You bet. That’s what it says right here, innit?” He points to the toy’s window—where there is no answer dice showing. “In fact…” He unscrews the Magic 8-ball, revealing his stash of money. “Ta-dah!”

Charles was hoping to keep this a secret from Edwin, so he could make the gift a surprise. But Charles figured it would be better to be up front about his hoard than to try to be dodgy about the whole thing—that would only pique Edwin’s curiosity and stubbornness more.

Also, Edwin still didn’t know about ‘Operation: Make Edwin Accept a Gift’, so really it was an overall win.

“Far be it from me to ever question the legitimacy of a Magic 8 ball ever again,” Edwin notes as Charles grabs his cell out of his pocket, unlocking it and scrolling to his messages. He dumped the contents of the toy out on his bed, starting to count exactly how much he would need.

“Are you planning on buying enough supper to feed our entire resident hall?”  Edwin questions from over Charles’s shoulder.

“Just helping out a friend.” He continues to count out the money he has, stacking dollars in one of his hands. It seems like he will have just enough money to help Crystal cover 3 months of rent.

“Help with what, Charles?” Edwin’s tone turned from joking to concerned. He swivels around to place himself between Charles and his bed. Staring at the amount of cash in Charles’ hands, Edwin continues, increasingly confused and concerned, “I would hazard a guess that this is all of your savings.”  

Charles doesn’t correct Edwin—it’s actually all of the money he has to his name, aside from a very blocked off account his Nani set up for him when he was a kid.

“Someone else needs it more than me, yeah?” Edwin looks back up at him, meeting his eyes and intently examining what he finds. The scrutiny makes Charles jittery. “I’ll be fine.” He attempts to move around Edwin to gather the last of the amount he needs.

“Charles,” Edwin pleads, hesitantly touching Charles’s shoulder to have him stop his frenzied movement, “What is going on?”

Charles sighs, turning to face Edwin again. “You know Crystal? From the café?”

He nods slightly, “You have mentioned her once or twice, yes.”

“Well, she’s just,” Charles hesitates, not wanting to divulge deeply personal stuff about Crystal without her permission, “She’s in a bit of a tight spot and just needs help with rent for a few months. And I don’t need this money so—”

“This seems certainly past the point of a friendly loan. Charles, you cannot—”

“She has no one she can go to, mate!” Charles retorts, louder and more aggressive than he intended. Edwin quickly snaps his arm back to his side, slightly stepping away from Charles. “Oi, I just… I know how that feels,” he adds on, quietly, “and I can actually help.”

Edwin glances away, over his shoulder. His expression incredibly sad before switching back to a neutral posture. It made Charles want to reach out and hug his friend. Soothe whatever misstep he made. Apologize. Something to make it better.

“Of course,” Edwin replies, clipped, before Charles could do anything. He then elegantly maneuvers past Charles, not even accidentally grazing him, towards his desk. “Let me help, then. You needn’t deprive yourself of your hard-earned savings.” Charles sees Edwin take out an old biscuit tin from a drawer in his desk, opening it up to reveal a pile of notes not unlike Charles’s own.

“Hey, hey, no,” he rushes to stop Edwin, grasping both of his arms and turning him around. “I offered to help Crystal, not you. You have been far more generous than anyone in my life. I mean it.” He tries to get Edwin to actually look at him, smiling in a way he intends to be comforting, reassuring. “I can only help Crystal because you helped me, mate. It’s okay. Really. Let me do this.”

Edwin closes his eyes for a beat, breathing in. “If you insist,” he exhales, resigned to not fighting his roommate anymore on the issue—no matter how much he wants to. He opens his eyes again. A part of Charles notes how pretty Edwin’s eyes are—a stormy grey-green—unique as his personality. He smiles and receives a mirrored grin from Edwin.

Charles becomes acutely aware of how physically close he is to Edwin. He finds he doesn’t hate it. Almost the opposite, really.

A cellphone chimes and Edwin seems to become as aware as Charles in regards to their proximity. Edwin clears his throat, “It appears you have a message. It would be rude not to answer.”

“Uh. Yeah. Right,” Charles breaks out of whatever moment they were having, sheepishly taking his hands off of Edwin. The message was from Crystal, asking if everything was okay and if he was going to come by tonight or tomorrow.

Charles glances toward their window—noting the pink and orange colors of the sky. It was just the start of sunset. He types out a quick response, telling her that he was going to swing by soon. Pocketing his phone, he gathers the money and his keys, aiming to head out.

“Gonna to head down to the café, be back in a tick,” Charles informs Edwin, who is staring at the same window Charles glanced at earlier. His roomie jerks his head towards him at this information. “Hardy Boys tonight, innit?”

“I am afraid I will have to postpone our reading until tomorrow,” Edwin replies, in a bit of a daze. He slowly moves his head back towards the window and then to a calendar they have tacked up on the wall. “I am about to head out for the night myself.”

“Hot date?” Charles supplies cheekily, trying to hide his disappointment that they weren’t reading tonight.

“Something like that.” Still incredibly preoccupied. The response takes Charles a bit off guard.

Edwin has a date?

He didn’t quite know how to continue this conversation. A vibration in his pocket reminds Charles that he really needs to start heading out if he wants to get to town and back before the buses shut down for the night.

“Well, uh…” Charles stammers out, attempting to be supportive, “Have… fun?”

Charles opens their door, hoping not to think any more about whatever Edwin had planned for his evening.

“Charles,” Edwin says abruptly as his roommate is halfway through their threshold. The gravity of how Edwin says his name has Charles automatically turning back around to face him.

“Yeah, mate?”

He notices Edwin come into himself more, blinking a few times before continuing.

“Do be careful,” he remarks with a perplexing amount of sincerity.

“You be careful,” Charles replied in a matching tone. He feels Edwin still staring at him as he leaves their room.

Chapter Text

Charles opted to walk down into town. His conversation with Edwin made him want the movement to clear his head.

…And he missed the bus anyway.

“‘You be careful’,” he mumbled, admonishing his choice of words, “Why the hell did I say that?”

Was he afraid of Edwin getting hurt on his date? Taken advantage of? It’s not like his mate was some fragile damsel or blushing virgin. And his natural severity on things would stop any pushy would-be suitor.

But who had broken through his roommate’s typically guarded exterior enough that Edwin would say yes to a date? Especially someone who Charles had no clue about. His roommate didn’t seem like the type to go out with someone after just meeting them: too spontaneous. So, who was it?

And why does Charles even care?

It all swirled around in his head as he walked the winding path down from the university. The cloudless sky growing more colorful as the day was coming to an end. They have been lucky; November around this neck of the woods could be mighty gloomy and rainy, but the past few weeks have been proper sunny. And Charles always preferred the sun. It made it easier for him to go out. Be away from his house and the minefield it was. Where he could run instead of tiptoe.

The nice weather was enough to make you forget the coming winter… and the end of term. Only a refreshing chill and the fog of his breath in the air were indicators of the changing of the seasons.

Navy vignetted the sky as he made it to The Cut & Brew, already closed for the night. He posted up against the exterior brick wall, shooting off a text and waiting for Crystal to come down from the second floor. He hears the sounds of shuffling and the chime of bells, standing straight up to face Crystal in uncharacteristically casual attire. Her arms were hugged around her. Her face and body language tense.

“First time I’ve seen you in proper human clothes, innit?” Charles tries to break the silence. He motions up and down to her outfit. “Here I thought you lived in a black apron and nametag.”

A small laugh. “Some friends we are,” she teases.

“Guess we gotta change that then, yeah?”

Crystal looks at him, discerning. “Yeah.” A beat. A blink. “Yeah.”

There was silence again. It makes Charles positively itchy. He clears his throat, reaching into his pocket for a wad of cash.

“Anyways,” he hands out the bills to Crystal, “this should cover you till you get back on your feet.”

She stares at his outstretched hand. Her lips pursed into a thin line. A part of Charles feels their interaction must look mad, like some sort of drug deal from a movie.

“You really don’t have to do this, you know?” she says quietly. Like she wants to give him one last chance to opt out.

“I know,” Charles says, nonchalantly, “Want to, don’t I?” He wags the money in his hand, emphasizing his point.

“Thank you. Again.” Crystal finally takes the bundle of cash, staring at it intently. “You have no idea what this means to me. I might actually have a chance to be fucking free of David.”

“I know what it’s like,” Charles sways back against the building, feeling suddenly vulnerable. “To want to be free of someone.”

Crystal follows suit, leaning both against the brick of the wall and Charles’s left arm. The silence this time feels inviting. She looks at him gently, waiting for him to continue. There’s a sense of déjà vu in reverse.

“My dad. Right cunt he was. Nothing I ever did was good enough for him,” he starts to feel a sting at the side of his eyes. “He—uh, he—”

Charles never really gave words to it in the past, worried that voicing it out loud would suddenly make it real. His throat was choking up against saying it now—even though he was able to get away. As tenuous as that freedom seemed sometimes.

“It’s okay, Charles,” Crystal offers. He sniffles, crossing his arms. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”

“I—I want to. It’s just…”

“Too big?”

“…Yeah.”

Crystal nods, putting her weight further into Charles’s as a comforting presence, “Seems like we both have assholes in our lives.”

They stay like that for a while, quietly watching the sky cascade into a darker shade of blue. Charles concentrating on Crystal’s warmth, using it as an anchor to not fall apart.

He feels Crystal start to shiver next to him. “Oi, Crystal, you should’ve told me you were getting cold.” He stands back up, shucking off his long black jacket to offer Crystal in a reflex of chivalry.

She shakes her head. “Charles, it’s okay,” a laugh accompanying her words, “I’m like… five steps from my apartment.”

“Oh. Yeah,” he says, suddenly feeling a tad silly. Looking up he can see a light shining through one of the windows, presumably Crystal’s room.

“Shit, it’s getting late, isn’t it?” It was hard to tell with the ambient light and the brightness of the full moon appearing. Crystal pushes the jacket back to Charles. “You better get heading back up.”

“You’re right.”

“I’m always right,” she remarks in a sarcastic tone reminiscent of Edwin. Crystal glances towards the door to The Cut & Brew, looking like she is about to head back inside. But first she turns to face him, her tone switching to sincerity, “Goodnight, Charles.”

She rises up on the balls of her feet and gives Charles a quick peck on the cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

He feels a bit of a spark where Crystal kissed him. “Yeah,” he absentmindedly mutters. As he finally notices Crystal head inside, Charles says goodbye in earnest, “Night, Crystal!”

She gives a small wave behind her as she retreats further back into the café. Charles looks at his phone, cursing under his breath. He missed the bus… again. At this point in the evening, transit was on a reduced schedule. So instead of every half hour, the next bus back up to campus wouldn’t be for another hour or so, if he was lucky.

“Guess I’m getting my steps in, then,” Charles groans as he starts to make the trek back up.

As the small town retreated and the forest surrounding the university grew, Charles was starting to feel the chill of the night pick up. The area was quiet, only the sound of his shoes on the pavement, crunching at dead leaves and pebbles, accompanying him. Most students and faculty were either milling about campus or tucked away into their flats in the village—not hanging about this liminal space between the two.

The forest seemed proper intimidating during the day, where the sun could reveal the various nooks and crannies. But in the night, even with the glow of the moon, it was hard not to feel a tingle crawl up your spine.

As he reached the part of the trail where the woods most encroached the road and walkways, the trees appearing as large tendrils looking to pull you down into hell, Charles could hear various noises start to join the sound of his footsteps. He couldn’t attribute the noise to a stray rabbit or squirrel rustling about. Much too loud and rhythmic for that. Couldn’t attribute the prickling feeling at the back of his neck to the ambience of the forest. He felt like he was being watched.

Keep calm, Charles. They were probably just a bunch of blokes trapsing about the various other pathways around the woods. Drinking or smoking or doing some other illicit activity. But his gut said something was different. His periphery vision couldn’t help him discern anything useful. Aside from it definitely being to human shaped blobs behind him. So, he kept up his normal pace, not wanting to spook whoever was tailing him.

He chanced a glance at his cell—the reception terrible at the point in the walk back. Fuck. As Charles tried to weigh his options of trying to text someone for help or breaking into a dead sprint in the hopes of getting distance, a figure stepped out into the pathway ahead of him, effectively blocking him in.

“Oh hello… Crystal’s friend, right?” A familiar, sleezy voice announces, “Or should I say boyfriend.” Charles stops in his tracks.

David. Double fuck. He closes his eyes, groaning, “Can you piss off? I’m really not in the mood, yeah?”

“Oh, come on,” David sneers out, “I think we can be friends too, y’know?” He starts walking—stalking—towards Charles. He could feel the other lads, David’s “friends” if he had to guess, drawing closer to him.

“Great way to start a friendship, mate,” Charles barks out, sarcastically. “Ambush a chap in the night’s definitely how I enjoy meeting new folks.” He shoves his hands into his pockets, trying to see if he can discreetly send some sort of distress signal on his phone, since the running plan seemed off the table.

“Ambush is such a nasty word, don’t cha think?” Charles’s arms are grabbed by arsehole 1 and arsehole 2, forcing his hands out of his pockets and holding him in place. He tries to struggle out of their grip, grimacing at David. “I’d like to think of it as more of a… negotiation.”

“Negotiation, huh?” Charles’s heart is beating faster, but his anger outweighed his fear. He tried to portray as much confidence as he could muster, “How about this: you leave me and Crystal the fuck alone and no one needs to know about this ‘friendly chat’?”

David bursts out laughing, cackling, doubling over even. Wiping a fake tear from his eyes, he stands up straight, a malicious glint in his eyes, “I don’t think you are really in the position for bargaining, dude!” He motions around him. “There’s no one here.”

Charles just glares further at David. He can’t believe he is getting threatened by someone in a fedora.

“Well get this, yeah?” Charles about growls out, “Crystal. She is better off without you. Way better off from what I gather. And I am not helping you with anything you want, you absolute cunt.”

The wind is suddenly knocked out of him as a punch connects with his stomach. His want to protectively curl into himself blocked by the flunkies holding him upright.

“God that felt good!” David hooted into the air, a maniacal grin spreading across his face like some kind of fucked up Chesire cat. David further crept into Charles’s space. He has to resist the urge to headbutt the arse in his smug, fedora-adorned face. David clasps a hand on his shoulder and Charles prides himself at not flinching at the mockery of a friendly gesture.

“Why don’t we take a walk?”

Chapter Text

Charles never really made it a habit to go adventuring about the forests around St. Hilarion.

“The only thing adventurous about those pathways is the varietal of excrement you will inevitably step in,” Edwin bristled when Charles brought up taking one of the student-made paths one evening as they were heading back from town.

“Dunno, mate,” he countered, continuing along with Edwin on the main road regardless, “Heard they were more efficient. Would’ve thought you’d be all into that stuff.”

Edwin groaned. “I highly doubt there has been any sort of concrete study done on the efficacy of those trails compared with the municipality provided option. And considering how vast and dense those forests are—” Charles had to abruptly stop walking as his friend had stilled; a faraway look in his eyes as he stared at the surrounding trees. Bumping lightly into his roomie as he came to a halt, Edwin turned to look at Charles. “I am certain those routes are fraught with switchbacks, dead-ends, and branches which, in turn, would cause you to take more time than you would have otherwise hoped to have saved.”

Though as Tweddle-Dum and Tweddle-Dumber are manhandling Charles through the aforementioned twisting and turning paths, he wished he had convinced Edwin to take a more scenic route one of those days. He hadn’t a clue where he was heading, with David leading the way, blathering on about some grandiose tosh Charles couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to. He hadn’t stopped trying to struggle against the two knobheads either, hoping that one of them would let up enough that he could scramble away. But alas, they were as unrelenting in their grip as they were thick in the head.

A dark part of him is reminded of his dad and how this wouldn’t be the first—nor second, nor third, nor… a lot—time he would end up with bruises on his upper arms. He tries to push down the panic from the sense memory; an instinctual need to start responding by pleading and saying he would do better.

No, fuck that.

“As much as I appreciate the moonlit stroll, mate,” Charles yelled up at David, breaking him out of whatever self-important tirade he was on, “are we getting to a point with all this?” He waved his head about in lieu of being able to emphasize with his hands. “Y’know I’m not helping you with whatever you have planned, don’t you? Or were you hoping this parade through the forest was gonna change my mind.”

They stop walking and David turns back to meet Charles’s defiant gaze. Something about the light makes his eyes look pitch black and Charles feels his stomach drop. He hopes it doesn’t show on his face.

“I was hoping you would see things my way,” David says as he approaches Charles, “but if you can’t join ‘em, beat ‘em, right?”

Charles was about to correct David on the usage of that saying, before being thrown down to the ground by his thugs. A swift kick hitting his side and sending him sprawling, open to any further attack.

Another kick, this time to his back. Someone stepping down on his hand. A boot grazing the top of his head—like he was a football, and the bloke had missed a free kick. Charles tries to roll to a fetal position but was intercepted by their ringleader’s hands roughly grabbing the lapel of his jacket, hoisting him upwards.

“You see, if I can’t have Crystal,” David speaks into Charles’s ear, eerily calm considering the violence he had been inflicting. Charles’s mind was still reeling from everything happening to do anything more than listen. “No one can. I will ruin her and everyone she even remotely cares about until I am the only thing she has left.”

“You’re—” Charles sputters out, “Y-you’re fucking psychotic.” He uses the proximity to headbutt the sod, hearing a satisfying crack as David lets go of him to stumble back. Unfortunately, the victory was only temporary, Charles already outnumbered and hurting before going into battle. Dragged backward by fingers grasping his hair, Charles finds himself in a headlock—the crook of a large arm pressing against his throat. Dark spots start to dance across his vision as he sees David wiping blood from his nose.

No, no, no, a part of him roars, it cannot end like this. He uses any strength he has left to scratch and claw at his assailant’s forearm. He can feel the blood build up behind his nails and it just fuels a primal need to continue. All at once, the pressure lessens, and he can breathe again. Charles collapses inelegantly on the ground.

“Give this shit stain a bath,” David nods his head over his shoulder. Before Charles could make out what he was motioning towards, Charles felt himself moving through the air. The world swirling around him, disoriented, until jolted into clarity by the sharp sting of freezing cold water encompassing his body.

The impact makes him gasp involuntarily, breathing in a gulp of the lake Charles now finds himself in. He struggles to find which way is up, flailing to right himself in the water. David and his lackeys cackling as he starts to drown. He’s sinking and some of him wants to just surrender to the cold—to stop fighting everything. Like he’s had to fight his whole life.

But a larger part, a combination of adrenaline and that pure rage that resides within him, compels Charles to swim back up, breaking the surface of the water into the night air. Flopping onto the nearest shore, he retches the swallowed water back up, coughing and spluttering in between until he can breathe once more.

He blearily hears a variety of noises around him. Voices yelling. A howl. Feet crunching against branches. Screams. Charles finds it hard to concentrate with everything hurting.

They’re coming back.

They’re going to finish the job.

You need to run.

You need to hide.

The survival instinct in him—the one that’s kept him alive the past 18 or so years of his life—has Charles scrambling up and running before he can figure out what the noises mean.

And that’s how Charles, freezing cold and (probably) half dead, found himself to be face-to-snout with a huge wolf.

“N-nice d-d-doggy,” he tries to placate between his teeth chattering, placing his hands out in a peaceful gesture. His mind is a swirl of incoherent half-thoughts as the creature intently stares back: Are wolves offended by being called doggy? Should he be trying to make himself large and intimidating—maybe that was just bears and cougars. Is staring a sign of aggression? Should he keep his palms flat—think that’s horses. Would he rather be killed by a wolf or David—probably a wolf, sounds more badass. Are wolves normally this large? He doesn’t suppose he’s ever seen a proper wolf before. Though it seems significantly larger than he would expect even a typical wolf to be.

As it moves closer to Charles, a morose thought almost chokes him: Would anyone miss him when he was gone?

He tightly closes his eyes, not wanting to see his untimely demise coming. Charles feels the nose of the wolf touch his neck and it takes everything within him not to move. He hears the sound of sniffing and then….

…More sniffing?

Its nose now touching the other side of his neck and sniffing intently, like Charles was smuggling dog treats in his polo. He cracked one of his eyes open to see the wolf simply examining him intently, seemingly curious. The beast was even lightly nudging one of Charles’s arms, like it wanted to check out the parts of Charles that he was covering.

“Okay. Okay,” he complied with the wolf’s nudging, a tad dumbfounded. He untangled himself, stretching his legs out. “M-must be going p-proper mad or something,” he mumbles as the wolf continued its examination. It hesitates at his abdomen. And let’s out… a small whine? The creature leans slightly onto Charles, forcing him to sink his hands into the wolf’s fur for stability.

The wolf didn’t seem to mind at all. “B-bloody hell, this is the softest thing I’ve ever felt, m-mate.” Charles felt like his arms would disappear entirely in the dense pelt. A giggle erupts from Charles as he feels the brush of whiskers against bare skin; The wolf having nosed underneath his shirt while he was distracted.

The sudden noise causes the wolf to jolt back from Charles. “D-didn’t mean to frighten ya,” he answers, his hands once again splayed out in front of him to soothe the creature. “Just tickled, is all.”

It takes a beat or two of the wolf looking at Charles, like it could actually understand what he was saying, before it moved back closer to Charles’s body. The wolf seemed to be lightly nipping at his clothes now, like it wanted them.

“D-dunno how to tell you this, mate,” he stammers out, near delirious on pain and exhaustion, “But I don’t think m-my k-kit is gonna fit you, is it?” Charles lightly nudges the wolf’s snout away, but it was not dissuaded and continued to nudge and nip at his layers.

Charles vaguely wonders if this is all a hallucination. He thinks he read something about hypothermia making you think nonsensical things like this right before you die. He thinks he should be more concerned about this but can’t quite bring himself to do anything about it.

“If this is all in my head,” he relents, complying with the wolf’s wishes and taking off all of the clothing it indicated. “Then my imagination is wicked vivid, innit?” Charles was left with a bare torso, save his gold chain, and pants—the wolf having nicked his shoes and socks while disrobing. Charles drew a hard line at taking off his trousers which the wolf didn’t seem to press.

Layers and layers of exhaustion wore upon Charles, even with the majority of his soaking wet clothing off. His eyes were heavy and head swaying to remain steady. He wanted to either go to sleep or have the wolf get on with it already and eat him. Charles giggles again—this time at the raw absurdity of what was happening to him.

The wolf once again draws back to look at Charles, cocking its head to one side. Like it was judging Charles.

“None of that, yeah?” Charles chuckled out, his voice breaking, “This has been a real shite day, okay? I think I’m entitled to a bout of the g-giggles.”

The wolf straightens its head back in response—in that uncanny way like it knows what Charles is saying. The beast then maneuvered itself behind Charles, eventually curling itself around his body. It doesn’t feel constricting, like that thug’s arm around his windpipe, but comforting, protective. Like the world’s largest, softest blanket chasing away the bitter cold that had seeped into his marrow.

The wolf looks at him expectantly, motioning downward with his snout. “Oh,” Charles says, getting it but also not getting it at all, “cheers, mate.” He lets himself sink entirely into the wolf’s pelt, his head laying on the animal’s neck as it settles to let him.

The last fleeting thought Charles has as he succumbs to sleep: if he had to die, this doesn’t feel all that bad a way to go.

Charles wakes up in a bed. A monitor beeping beside him. Florescent light lazily flickering above.

“Oh my god, Charles,” he hears a voice gasp.

Crystal’s voice.

He’s in an infirmary.

What the hell?

Chapter Text

Edwin Payne was not always like this. A monster. Truth be told, he was a normal teenager up until a few years ago.

…Perhaps normal was an embellishment, but at least he didn’t turn into a bloody wolf every full moon.

In one terrible night, Edwin Payne was made a werewolf… and a murderer. An action he has resolved to never let happen again. But the damned beast now inside of him had other intentions.

It took Edwin perhaps a month or two of waking up stark naked in the forests outside of his family’s estate before he truly understood what was happening to him. Part of him thought he simply was going mad; The vague impressions of gnawing teeth, thrashing claws, and the unbearable pain of hearing your own bones break and shift in some macabre transformation merely trauma-induced nightmares. The blood he could taste on his tongue an artifact of biting the inside of his cheek as he slept.

So he examined the evidence, as any amateur detective within his stories is wont to do. The date of these “dreams” always coinciding with a full moon. The visceral pain and exhaustion that lingered the day after. The scratch marks he found on door frames and floorboards leading out into the garden, much larger than anything a human or average pet could do.

Edwin was not one for believing in the supernatural—a skeptic by nature—but it all added up. As Doyle once wrote: “When you have eliminated all which is impossible, then whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.”

The final nail in the proverbial coffin was when he set up cameras one full moon, recording himself from multiple angles within the confines of their house’s rarely used cellar. It was hard to watch the tape back, to see yourself contort into a larger-than-life beast—a veritable monster out of any child’s fairy tale. To hear your own screams drown into snarls and howling.  

Even more unsettling for Edwin was the understanding that he had no awareness or memory of what happens when he is the wolf. He only remembers flashes, echoes of emotions, like a vivid dream dissipating as you wake up and try to recall it.

The idea of having no control over his circumstance chilled him more than anything else.

He starts to develop a plan. If he cannot control the monster, perhaps he could outwit it.  His intellect and perseverance the only way he had been able to survive thus far in his relatively short life—his peers and parents certainly made sure of that fact.

One of the few saving graces, Edwin supposed, of having a mother and father that all but orphaned you as soon as you could be handed off to the nearest nanny: he needn’t worry about harming them as a beast. Edwin would merely continue to disappoint them by his continued existence as a human, something he had already been managing do to for 15 odd years at this point.

He also needn’t worry about attracting any undue attention; the nearest neighbours being several acres away and any remaining staff at the Payne manor only coming by during daylight hours.

Edwin started to retrofit the cellar he used in his prior experiments.

The name of the game was containment. He needed to minimize any potential damage he could do to person or property in his monstrous form. In an attempt to know thy enemy, Edwin gathered all manner of text on werewolves and other similar shapeshifting phenomenon. It was annoyingly difficult to decipher the folklore from fact. The slivers of truth buried within piles of useless conspiracy theory and conjecture. Edwin was not suddenly hearing or smelling at some superhuman level in his “usual” form. Fire did not inspire any primal fear within him nor the wolf when subjected to it. And Edwin certainly did not feel any insatiable need to bark at people, pee on various surfaces, or other such dog-related behavior. He almost felt offended by the implication—and he hated this newfound infliction as much as the next person.

Silver, though, that myth seemed to carry some merit. Not in that a singular silver bullet would kill him—though that was not a theory he was keen to test, bullets being particularly nasty as-is—but that it would now burn him. Even as a human. He was aware of nickel as a common allergy, but even nickel did not near-sizzle when in contact with skin like how silver now reacted to his own.

“Silver it is then,” he noted with a detached air, staring at the blackened skin of his palm in the aftermath of an experiment with the material.

Armed with the knowledge, Edwin reinforced the doors to the cellar with silver plated strips of metal—enough that the wolf would have to come in contact with it should it try to escape, but not so much as to allow him to open them back up without burning himself come morning. After some amount of trial and error, he was able to find the right amount of reinforcement to dissuade the creature from ramming itself against the gateway to the outdoors.

Edwin thought he finally had a solution as he bought time to try to find a cure: meticulously track the lunar cycles and lock himself down beneath the earth where the wolf could not escape; the only way in and out barricaded by silver.

His plan worked… for a while.

But then the wolf fought back. Its frustration in being trapped bleeding out into Edwin’s human form. It started small. Edwin would wake up to a bone deep exhaustion and pain, unlike the prior full moon, ever increasing as each transformation cycle passed. His body so thoroughly drained that he would have to miss classes the next day, should the aftermath be on a weekday, to simply sleep. He was fortunate enough to be ahead in most of his coursework that his instructors never commented on the uptick in absences. The administrators never reporting any irregularity, had they noticed, to his mother and father.  

Thus, Edwin simply endured the hurt and fatigue, considering them to be a necessary evil.

Then came the scarring. Edwin would come back to himself, nails cracked and hands caked with his own blood. The walls around him would be absolutely marred with claw marks; The beast trying to get out of its cage, even if the effort was entirely futile. Even if the cost was reflected back to Edwin, as if he—and not the wolf—were personally tearing at the cellar with his bare hands.

Edwin started to wear his leather gloves at all times. He had a reputation of being peculiar about dress to begin with, opting to be overly formal than adhering to traditional trends, so no one questioned this change as well.

This ignorance, while beneficial, was crippling lonely for Edwin, even worse than any physical torture he had gone through thus far.

Had he no one in his life to care about the changes in his behavior?

To question him even if he would try to dodge the truth of the matter?

To ask how he was doing, now that every movement of his hands were mired in stifled wincing?

Now that the dark circles appearing on his face make him look like death warmed over?

Perhaps that was for the best, Edwin would rationalize.

Last time he was even remotely close with someone… he killed them.

Chapter Text

Edwin’s breaking point came during the latter half of Sixth Form, a year and change into being saddled with a monster. To say he was coping would be generous, but he was at least surviving; moving forward with some semblance of a normal life—or at least a convincing façade.

Then came his seventeenth full moon. As per usual, Edwin settled himself down in his makeshift prison. Disrobing—since frankly he was tired of having to consistently purchase new clothing and at some point, his own reservations about nudity had to be forgone in lieu of practicality—he would sit and attempt a sort of meditation, breathing to calm his nerves about the impending pain of transformation. Not that it ever particularly helped. Never stopped the screaming that ripped from his throat at the feeling of his body contorting against his will.

And in the pain, Edwin would cease to exist—a beast in his place. He could only describe the in-between as both instant and infinite, something akin to that blip of time where one was knocked out by an aesthetic. A rare moment of respite before coming back into himself. A torrent of emotions and half-memories would assault him before hiding into the recesses of his subconscious, only to haunt him nightly in his dreams. And then the cycle would continue.

When Edwin awoke this time, a gasp knocking him breathless as always when confronted with everything all at once, he noticed it was dark outside.

Night.

He had never come back while the moon was still up. Maybe, a foolish part of him dared to hope, maybe Edwin was free. That he outlasted the monster and emerged victorious.

But then Edwin took a real good look at the moon. It was a waxing gibbous—and a fairly prominent one at that. His heart dropped. He could feel the blood rushing in his ears at the implication.

No. No. No. No.

A constant refrain in Edwin’s head as he ran to find his phone.

To check the date.

No. No. No. No. No.

It was two days later.

Edwin had lost two whole days.

He hoped for some sort of misunderstanding, that he was merely so delirious on pain and exhaustion that he was in a near-comatose state afterwards. But he needed to stop listening to that deeply naïve voice in his head, hoping for some sort of justice in this world. Quickly parsing the footage from the cameras set up around the cellar—still remaining in a hope to further observe the wolf in order to understand its behavior—his worst fears were confirmed.

He was a wolf that entire time. Edwin didn’t even know that was a possibility. None of the reference material he had managed to read ever alluded to such a thing. And while he had remained steady in the face of the horrors inflicted upon him, this was what lead him tumbling into the nearest washroom, bile rising from his throat and hands uncontrollably shaking. Edwin had never cried so hard in his life.

He would never escape. Never be free. A dark thought suffocating him with the very real possibility that the monster might take over… forever.

The next full moon didn’t fare any better for Edwin. He lost three and a half days. The beast was clawing for more and getting it. No textbook nor folklore nor even bloody reddit post proved any bit as useful into figuring a way out. Into taking back control.

It was hard not to fall into despair.

Even Edwin wasn’t strong enough to persevere through the living hell he found himself in.

And if his life was forfeit… what was the point?

He stopped keeping track of the days.

He didn’t lock himself in the cellar.

He didn’t try any more research.

He just waited for oblivion.

And, as was the case with time and the damnable loop he was stuck in, another full moon arrived. Another night being near ripped apart from the inside out. The only comforting thought as he fell into darkness: at least the pain might end should the wolf win.

Edwin awoke in the morning with only a night passing with his absence. He was dumbstruck with the realization. Perhaps the monster could be reasoned with.

“A compromise, then,” he said in disbelief, looking at his human face in a mirror. A hand splayed against his cheek, as if confirming he was real.

Chapter Text

If a deal with the devil is what Edwin had to do to keep the monster from devouring him whole, then a deal he shall do. The wolf wanted freedom—something he himself could relate to. But Edwin needed to be sure that it would not hurt anyone; he knew all too well the destructive capability of the beast inside of him.

Luckily, the Payne estate was vast and sprawling, surrounded by enough acreage to make it such that the only possible victims would be a passing rabbit or wandering fox. That would cover the immediate future. But what after? Edwin could not trade one prison for another—still bending to the will of the wolf by confining himself at his family home. He still wanted to have a life, wanted freedom, wanted more.

That was where St. Hilarion University came into the picture. Edwin desperately wanted to continue his education; education which may eventually lead to an end of his affliction. He enjoyed languages in his formative schooling, and it only proved more useful as he turned his research in a more supernatural direction. The ability to read and understand multiple languages, especially ancient languages, opened up potential texts that he would not have otherwise had access to.

St. Hilarion had an extensive Linguistics program and a hidden reputation of researching more unconventional topics. A prominent member of the department’s faculty, a Dr. Esther Finch, had one of the more promising modern research papers on supernatural phenomena that Edwin had come across during his extensive studies. In particular, she had an in-depth analysis in regard to the linguistic origins and societal understanding of shapeshifting beings—including werewolves. It would be a boon to have easy access to a source of information such as Dr. Finch.

Another benefit of St. Hilarion was the large woodland area surrounding it. During some exploratory studies of the wolf around the estate, a GPS tracker around a flexible band on his ankle (which took quite a bit of trial and error to ensure it would stay on during transformation), he found that the creature did not wander far from where Edwin would initially turn. Often only sticking to the covered wooded areas, not staying long in open fields or roads.

Allowing the wolf about the grounds also clued Edwin into certain benefits of his curse. Namely, he did not have to worry about exposure to the elements. His body never developed hypothermia or frostbite in the frigid British winters, nor extreme dehydration or heat stroke in the summers. He had no other sort of preternatural healing ability, but at least he wouldn’t have to worry about accidentally killing himself after turning back.

Edwin still had the pain of transformation, however.

The fatigue and emotional turmoil of the days after.

The scars on his fingers becoming only faint traces on the brutal history of his skin.

His nails finally growing out to a reasonable length.

It was a compromise through and through, but Edwin could feel the noose around his neck loosen. Could feel the idea of hope once more. St. Hilarion was not an Oxford or a Cambridge—something more “becoming” of a Payne man—but it was prestigious enough that his mother and father would still pay tuition (just begrudgingly).

It was, by all accounts, a solid plan Edwin had in place.

He did not quite account for Charles Rowland.

An explanation of sorts:

There was still the notable issue of the transformation’s effect on his clothing. Namely, that he would not have any when we awoke. Edwin would rather not be arrested for public indecency, an increasingly likely outcome if he had to traipse to and from a heavily populated campus. Any violation would most assuredly result in him being expelled from the university and, subsequently, result in garnering the attention of his mother and father. If he was a disappointment to them now, he shuddered at the thought of his family’s wrath, especially if his actions resulted in a blow to the Payne family reputation.

Therefore, to combat that potential hazard, Edwin made supply caches, plotting out various points on a topographical map of the forest. He could stash a small but modest change of clothing to slip into until he could get to his room. With that plan in place, Edwin needed to come onto the University’s campus earlier in order to have time to place them in strategic locations and conduct a trial run of sorts; there was fortuitously a full moon some handful of days before the start of the term.

Based on the—frankly archaic—paperwork regarding accommodations on campus, the only way Edwin could work around this deadline was to be placed in a hall wherein he would have a roommate.

It was not ideal but, to be quite honest, nothing about Edwin’s life recently could be considered ideal. He would just have to do his level best, just like he had for the past two or so years. It would most likely not even be a huge issue, hiding aspects of his life from his roommate. Based on online forum posts, roommates seem to rarely interact unless absolutely necessarily. And knowing his current track record of making and maintaining friendships, Edwin reasoned that his mandated bedfellow would easily be put off by his demeanor, leaving him more or less alone in their room.

But then he met Charles. A scrappy punk if Edwin ever saw one—someone his family would positively turn their noses up at—with only two meagre bags to his name. And then… Edwin couldn’t help himself. There was something about Charles that called to him. Someone whose pain seemed to resonate with his own, even if just a hum under the surface of this stranger.

Edwin tried to file his initial kindness as simply… building goodwill, should his roommate see anything strange or unusual as he conducted his research. That excuse did not last long, however, after he laughed with Charles as they conversed to and from the village. Edwin did not remember the last time he so much as chuckled, even before being saddled with a monster.

He was drinking water for the first time, never realizing he had been parched for years. And even though he knew getting close to someone would only result in disaster, Edwin wanted more. He could not help it—being selfish—at least for right now.

And then… and then Charles called him his friend. In the most casual manner possible. As if he hadn’t detonated a bomb in Edwin’s chest with such a declaration.

That was when Edwin knew he was properly fucked.

Chapter Text

Edwin could not quite tell you when his fondness for Charles turned from platonic to romantic. Perhaps it was during one of their many nights of reading where he would spot Charles positively enthralled in Edwin’s story telling; his eyes closed and a serene grin on his face. Maybe it was when Charles never shunned Edwin for his eccentricities, only finding fascination and curiosity for any topic Edwin brought up—even if Charles had absolutely no want to understand the subject. Though really, it might be as simple as the fact that Charles was someone who stayed: who did not see Edwin as the weirdo, as the outcast, as the monster.

Nevertheless, Edwin could feel his affection for Charles grow with each passing day they spent in each other’s company. And it terrified him.

Edwin had always had some inkling that he was gay, but knew it was something never to bring up to his family. It was not until Simon that he was sure of that fact and… well… Edwin quickly found what came out of having those types of feelings for someone.

A friendship with Charles was one risk, but a romantic entanglement? Even if by some miracle Charles reciprocated Edwin’s feelings—which he most assuredly did not, if how he talked about Crystal was any indication—he would only further risk Charles by implicating him with his monster. And Edwin could not do that. So, he kept his feelings buried, relishing in the little scraps of attention Charles dare deem him worthy of and being thankful he could at least have that.

He must have played some cruel trick on a god in a past life, Edwin firmly believes, when he awakened one cycle cuddling his roommate.

And not just cuddling. Spooning.

And Edwin was completely naked. Charles was topless.

And they were in the woods.

He hoped this was either some great dream or cruel nightmare, but as the sensations of the early morning chill prickled at his skin, juxtaposed with the warmth emanating from Charles at his front…

Edwin wanted the ground to swallow him whole.

He had no plan for this. No way he could talk his way out of this scenario should Charles awaken. Edwin’s heart felt as if it was beating double time.

He slowly—so painstakingly slowly—removed himself from behind Charles, holding his breath so much that Edwin thought he was going to pass out from lack of oxygen.

Luckily, Charles did not awaken. Unluckily, Edwin spotted the potential reason why. His stomach dropped at spying the black eye, bruises, and scrapes along Charles body.

“Wha.. what happened to you, Charles?” Edwin breathed out, hands hovering over his body and shaking near uncontrollably. His mind shot to the worst possible scenario: that he did this. That, despite the gentle nudging and influencing Edwin had done the past couple of months to ensure that Charles wouldn’t venture into the woods, he did. And on the worst possible night to do so.

And that fucking wolf near killed him. His eyes started to sting. Edwin needed to fix this. Pressing his ear to Charles’s chest, he could feel a gentle beating of his heart. Charles was still alive. Edwin about wanted to sob at the realization. The beast might have tried to hurt his friend, but Edwin would make sure it would not win. He needed to get Charles to the infirmary as soon as possible.

Edwin took stock of his surroundings. By his estimation, he was in the northwest quadrant of the forest—near turning point location gamma. A quick scan of the nearby trees, he found one of his markers; a carving in the base of the tree to help him triangulate the nearest cache.

And, while he did not want to leave Charles alone in the woods, he desperately needed clothing if he was going to get close to campus with Charles in tow. With great reluctance, Edwin dashed off to find the aforementioned cache, haphazardly tear at the plastic seal of the package, and scramble into the sweatpants and plain tee it contained—not even bothering with the shoes or any sort of clean-up he would normally do. There simply wasn’t the time.

During the run to and fro, a distant part of Edwin realized that he did not have the normal fatigue and pain that usually accompanied his transformations. If anything, he felt quite well rested. Edwin attributed this feeling to the adrenaline that must have been coursing through his system, unwilling to give the intrusive thought any further attention.

Charles was still laid out amongst the foliage when Edwin returned, looking neither better nor worse than when he left. Edwin crouched down, carefully gathering Charles up in his arms—hoping to not cause further damage to unknown injuries but knowing he couldn’t bring paramedics to the forest without questions he knew he couldn’t answer. Standing fully, Edwin held Charles in a bridal carry and started to carefully pick his way through the woods. Normally, this feat would be a challenge for someone—to carry a full-grown person of Charles’s stature by someone with Edwin’s leaner stature. This was one of the other rare benefits of his curse. While his senses were not enhanced by any measure, Edwin found that he had a noticeable increase in physical strength, even in his human form. It was not to superman levels, mind you—he could not lift a boulder with a pinky finger or anything one might find within comic books—but it was substantial enough. He never had occasion to really benefit from this strength, aside from being able to carry many large tomes of books without tiring, but he was certainly thanking what little mercy there was in the world that he could now.

Edwin supposed, in any other scenario, that this gesture would be romantic, tender even; Charles cradled against Edwin, his friend’s face looking relaxed as it leaned against Edwin’s shoulder. Perhaps, if he wasn’t the cause of Charles’s pain… Edwin shakes loose those thoughts. He had to focus on the task at hand. He could not afford to lose himself in guilt or lovesick daydreaming.

Edwin reached the university’s medical clinic some arduous minutes later. Crossing the threshold into the lobby, he was quickly spotted by the sleepy front desk attendant. Their expression switching from dazed to alert in the matter of seconds as they caught sight of the boy in Edwin’s arms. There was shouting, frantic movement… Edwin does not remember much after that. Charles was taken out of his arms, and a large part of him wished to follow on instinct.

But he did not. He could not allow himself the comfort of being with Charles, not when he was the cause. Some survival instinct, one that had been hell bent on keeping his monster under wraps thus far, screamed for him to leave, before anyone came back to inquire details from him. Edwin knew he wasn’t in the right mind to come up with a convincing story; he was never proficient at lying, all told. Half-truths, evasion, and lies by omission, perhaps, but never an outright deception. So, he snuck out amidst the chaos, feeling numb all the while.

Outside, the sun was rising further into the sky, starting to burn away the early morning mist. Edwin squinted at the brightness as he continued further away from the building, forcing the distance between them. A thought appeared between the static of his mind; If he could not be with Charles, someone should be. He owed Charles that much.

After a preliminary internet search, Edwin found the number for The Cut & Brew. He was able to reach someone on the second dial. Someone by the name of Jenny, from her automatic response when picking up. Edwin, in as even of a tone as he could manage, explained the situation: Of Charles being in the University’s infirmary. Of his potential injuries. Of the desire for someone to be there with him, if she could pass the message along to Crystal.

The woman on the other line seemed baffled, but fortunately did not ask any further questions (or even who Edwin was—not that he would have answered). After confirming she would let Crystal know of Charles’s situation, he abruptly hung up. After, Edwin stared at his phone for several minutes. He wanted something to happen, but he wasn’t quite sure what.

Nothing happened.

Edwin walked barefoot back to their room.  

Chapter Text

“Crystal?” Charles asked, his voice still dripping with sleep. “What? How?” There were too many questions running around in his mind. “How… did I get here?”

“I—” Crystal stammered, scooting her chair closer to Charles’s bedside. “I don’t know. They just—Someone called the cafe. Said you were in the University’s medical clinic. Said I needed to come.” Crystal’s hands were fidgeting, fingers interlacing to quickly come undone and re-combined once more. “Don’t know much else aside from that. What—what was the last thing you remember?”

The last thing he remembered… closing his eyes a tick, Charles sifted through the fog of his memory.

“A wolf,” Charles recalls. “Yeah, big, massive wolf.”

“A wolf did this to you?” Crystal responded, her eyes scanning Charles’s body.

“No, no,” Charles corrected, slowly shaking his head—stopping when the pressure in his head caught up to him. His brain still felt slow as he tried to connect it back to his mouth. “The wolf… saved me I think.”

“A wolf… saved you?” Crystal looked concerned. The corner of her mouth ticked up as she gently brought a hand to Charles’s head, prodding around. “Maybe I need to get the doctor. See if the bump on your head is worse than they thought.”

“’m serious Crystal.” Charles was getting frustrated. His voice gaining clarity. “I remember—remember being so cold. Never been so bloody cold in my life. And—and this wolf helped me… warmed me up… I think—” He was starting to get worked up, sitting up from his reclined position on the clinic’s cot.

Gentle hands pushed him back down, “Okay, okay. You saw a wolf. Just… chill, all right?” Crystal didn’t sound convinced, and Charles couldn’t chill.

“No, Crystal, I know it sounds mental. I get it, yeah? But I’m tellin’ you… thought David and his thugs were gonna kill me and—” As soon as the words rushed out of his mouth, Charles wished he could shove them back in.

“David?” Crystal sounded outside herself. Calm in the worst way. “David… did this?”  

“It’s fine Crystal, that’s not the point—”

“It’s exactly the point!” No longer an eerie calm, Crystal jolted up, wrapping her arms around herself. “This—this wouldn’t have happened if not for me.”

“It’s fine. I’m okay, Crystal, please—"

“You are not okay, Charles,” Crystal’s wide eyes were filling with tears. She about chokes out the words, “I—I… you almost died. Because of him. Because of me.”

“No—Crystal, that’s not—” Charles didn’t know how to fix this. It felt like he was watching a runaway train speeding towards an incomplete bridge; He knows what’s going to happen and he can’t stop it. He tried to get off the bed, stopping as a flare of pain shoots across his torso. Crystal saw his wince and immediately backed up.

“I—I have to go. I’m so sorry, Charles. I have to go.”  

“Wait—!” He reached out, wincing again from the pain in his ribs. But Crystal was gone. Charles, cursing to himself, laid back onto his bed and stared straight up at the pockmarked ceiling until someone came by to check on him.

He was discharged from the clinic a few hours later. The docs said he was lucky; a cracked rib or two was the worst of Charles’s injuries—something that should heal on its own over the course of several weeks. The rest of his body looked worse than it actually was, with prominent purple marks on his upper arms and throat alongside a myriad of scrapes and other bruises. Some tenderness on the top of his head, luckily not a concussion, from when David’s brute nicked his head. After the disaster that was trying to explain what happened to Crystal (and mentioning a wolf would certainly have gotten him held for some sort of psychiatric evaluation), Charles opted to not speak much at all to the cause of his current wrecked state with the various medical staff. He’s lied about the sources of bruises before, so the same lies came easily to him now.

Charles just wanted to go back to his room—go home—and sleep away all of this mess.

Even back in a familiar space, rest didn’t come easily to Charles. His brain felt fuzzy and frenzied all at the same time, turning over the memories of the past 24 hours or so over in his head like shards of broken ceramic that he was trying to piece back together. He remembers talking to Crystal about his dad. Walking back up to campus. David and his goons jumping him. The icy chill of water filling his lungs—a memory that caused him to become hyperfocused on his ability to breathe, like he had to remind his body that he still could. Running through the forest… thinking he was going to die… and then that wolf. A grey hulking thing with piercing green eyes.

As much as he wanted to attribute the memory to some sort of pain induced hallucination, that it was merely his memory filling in the blanks with some fantastical fantasy, Charles couldn’t shake the feeling of realness that the memory contained. If he closed his eyes, he could still feel the softness of the animal’s pelt, the warmth it emanated, its intense stare—like it could understand what Charles was saying…

Maybe he did need that psych eval, after all. Charles groaned as he tried to shut off his thoughts to sleep, shoving a pillow over his face as if he could physically force his mind to settle. It only caused the bump on his head to hum with discomfort.

Throwing the pillow back to his side, he gazed around the room. Charles still hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Edwin. Some not-so-small part of him lamented Edwin not being there with him in the hospital—though he knew that was a silly thing to hope for. For all Charles knew, Edwin didn’t even know his friend was in the infirmary. His roomie did have a date or something last night, after all. And Edwin was notoriously terrible at checking his phone, if they only reached Crystal by phone.

‘Bollocks, gonna need a new cell, aren’t I?’ Charles’s thoughts interjected. That wasn’t one of the personal effects he was given back when he left the clinic. Oddly enough, he only came in with his trousers, boxers, and the gold chain his mum got him for his twelfth birthday. Charles had to borrow some spare items from the medical staff to not look like a complete bum walking about campus.

Just another thing Charles was going to have to deal with…

What Charles wouldn’t give right now to have Edwin here, reading their next detective story out loud. His steady voice quieting the absolute shit show of Charles’s mind so he could get some rest. Perhaps Edwin would be back soon.

Chapter Text

Edwin was not back soon. Charles didn’t see him for the rest of that day. Or the day after. Or the next. Or the next.

Honestly, Charles would have been worried that something might have happened to Edwin, but Charles could tell that he had been in their room during those days; Charles could tell from the little things. A book slightly shifted or replaced. The pillows on his bed not quite lining up from where they were a night prior. He didn’t know when he picked up all on these things—how his mind instantly knew how Edwin arranged things and when they were off. But he just did. And they were off… but in a way that was made to seem like nothing changed. Like Edwin didn’t want Charles to know he had been back.

Was Edwin mad at him? Why? When he left Edwin that shitty night, his roomie didn’t seem cross with him or nothing. He seemed to begrudgingly accept what Charles was going off to do. Or maybe that was a lie? Maybe Edwin was angry about Charles running off to do something impulsive, yet again, damn the consequences.

Somehow this all felt like Charles’s fault, but he didn’t know what he even did. Didn’t know how to make it better. First, Crystal. Now, Edwin. He just seemed to keep fucking things up, even when he tried to do what he thought was right.

He felt his dad’s voice creeping to the forefront of his mind from where it was safely buried under meters of concrete in his subconscious. Saying how he was useless. Saying how he was a waste of space. Saying how he didn’t deserve friends. The pervasive thoughts were blighting everything they touched.

Charles doesn’t remember the last time he properly cried. It hurt his already broken ribs like crazy, but he couldn’t stop—something that seemed to be a recurring theme for him.  

“Oh. I didn’t think—” He heard a surprised huff from Edwin. Charles lifted his head from off his knees, where he was curled in on himself in misery. Through the blur in his eyes, he could see the wide-eyed look on Edwin’s face. The entire spectrum of his eyes on full display, body frozen in place at the threshold of their dorm. They stared at each other for a full minute before Edwin thawed himself out.

“Charles,” he nearly breathed out, “Have you been… have you been crying?”

Charles opened his mouth and quickly closed it, suppressing his gut reaction to say that he hadn’t, that he was just having an allergic reaction to the dust in their room. But then he feared Edwin would simply leave again. And Charles didn’t know when he would be able to catch his roommate next if he did.

“What did I do wrong, Edwin?” He sounded as miserable as he felt, voice scratchy from the sobbing.

“What?” Edwin sounded genuinely surprised. Perhaps he didn’t hear correctly.

Charles cleared his throat, lifting his head up further. “I mucked something up, right? You’ve barely been back here in days. And when you are back here, you try to make it seem like you haven’t been. I’m not thick, Edwin… You’ve been avoiding me, haven’t you? And now you look like you are two steps from bookin’ it out our room. Just,” he could feel tears prickling again at the corners of his eyes, his voice breaking as he continued, “Just tell me what I did to make you hate me and I’ll fix it, yeah? Make it better. Promise.” Edwin simply stared in response—his face seeming to dance with so many emotions and yet barren at the same time.

Charles felt so small, so vulnerable. Everything hurt. He wanted it all to stop. He looked back down at his knees, away from Edwin’s intense gaze. “Please don’t leave me alone, Edwin. I—I swear I’ll fix whatever’s wrong with me if you just… stay.”

In a matter of a moment, Charles felt the bed dip in front of him. Hands came up to cradle the sides of his head, lifting his eyes to meet Edwin’s. His grey-green eyes giving him a stare that felt as if it would bore straight through his skull. His friend’s expression looked deeply pained.

“Charles Rowland,” Edwin said, steady and resolute. He swallowed and continued, “There is nothing—nothing—wrong with you. Anyone who says otherwise is a damned fool and not worth a second of your time.”

Charles opened his mouth to refute Edwin.

“—I am not finished.” Edwin cut him off, like he knew what Charles was going to say. The decisiveness of his tone snapping Charles’s mouth shut.

Edwin looked down, as if regaining some ounce of fortitude. “I will admit that I have indeed been… avoiding you, Charles,” Edwin looked at him once more, “And for making you feel like you are anything less than the best person I know, I apologize profusely.”

“I—” Edwin started but broke off before continuing. If Charles didn’t know better, he would say that Edwin looked terrified. “There are—” He stammered again. Another attempt aborted. Like the words want to come out of Edwin’s mouth but there was some unseen force choking him if he tried to continue. He finally dropped his hands from Charles’s face, resting them on his lap.

“It’s okay, Edwin,” Charles said meekly. “You don’t have to explain, alright?”

Edwin closed his eyes. From his periphery, Charles could see his roommate’s fists clenching, knuckles white with the effort. “I want to explain. You deserve an explanation—” Edwin’s eyes further clamped shut with the effort of trying to force the words out and being frustrated that he could not.

Charles laid his hands on Edwin’s fists, stilling them. The tension in his friend’s body eased up at the touch.

“Hey,” Charles reassured. Edwin’s eyes slowly opened back up. “Don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to, got it?”

Edwin frowned sadly. “You are too nice to me, Charles. I truly do not deserve such kindness.” He removed his hands out from under Charles’s touch, gracefully standing up from where he was kneeling on the bed.

Charles moved to say something to Edwin, to keep him from leaving. Edwin once again interjected before he could get a word in edgewise. “I would never wish to hurt you, Charles. I would daresay you are the person I care most about in the world, all told.”

Charles felt a spark of joy from Edwin’s declaration, but it was quickly smothered by what felt left unsaid. The proverbial other shoe. He launched himself up off of his bed, legs aching but happy to no longer be curled together. “Why do I feel like there’s a ‘but,’ mate?” His stance almost suggested that he was ready to dash in front of Edwin to block him from leaving. Didn’t quite know how his body would respond to that action, but at this point, he frankly didn’t care.

Edwin couldn’t meet Charles’s eyes; his gaze instead unfocused in the middle distance. Like he was reliving something. He looked increasingly shy—which felt out of place with Edwin’s typical “take no shit” demeanor. His left hand gripping his right elbow in a hunched over posture. Defensive. Unsure.

He licked his lips as he gathered his thoughts, “I cannot quite elaborate, but I… feel responsible for the attack perpetrated against you.”

So, Edwin did know. How did he find out? Doubtful Crystal or Jenny told him. But wait…

“You’re joking, right?” Any sense of sadness in Charles’s replaced with complete and utter bafflement.

Edwin didn’t seem to acknowledge Charles’s question. “I feel that for your safety I need to distance myself from you—”

“Now you are talking absolute bollocks, mate.” Charles’s voice now raising, causing Edwin to actually see him. “Look, I don’t know what you’re on about, but the only one to blame for this”—he generally gestured at his body—“was David and his thugs. And, no offense, mate, but I am pret-ty sure you aren’t some big, hulking bloke who gets his rocks off on fucking with someone, are you?”

Now it was Edwin’s turn to look proper baffled. “David?” He looked like he was recalculating something in his mind, eyes shifting back and forth.

“Who the fuck is David?”

Chapter Text

Charles told Edwin about David, why he needed to give Crystal the money he did, the walk back and getting jumped… He skipped some of the finer details, but recapped most of it to his friend, now sat next to Charles with his hands fisted against his thighs. He had an intense look on his face, not looking at Charles but staring directly ahead. Even with that, it was obvious that his roomie was listening intently to what he was saying. And Edwin was staying which was the by far the best outcome in Charles’s opinion.

“Next thing I knew… I was being tossed into a lake, yeah?” A phantom shiver ran up his spine. “It was bloody freezing. Never been so cold in my life.”

“What happened after?” Edwin asked, his voice attempting to be neutral, like he was gathering evidence.

“Oh, yeah, uh,” Charles sighed, “Got out of the lake, obviously. Ran for a while, probably getting more lost than anything, but I couldn’t think of straight, could I? Gets a bit fuzzy but…” He trailed off, unsure about whether to bring up the wolf of it all, considering how that blew up in his face when talking to Crystal.

“But what, Charles?” Edwin was now looking at Charles. He would almost think that Edwin was hoping for him to say something in particular.

“So,” Charles scrubbed his hands across his face. “Okay, this is gonna sound proper mental—I know it sounds literally insane, yeah—” Charles exhaled, trying to build up the courage.

“Charles—”

 “Sod it—there was a giant wolf. Like, unbelievably huge wolf, right?”

Edwin didn’t respond and Charles couldn’t read his expression. Fuck.

“I know, I know. But… but, you have to believe me, Edwin,” Charles pleaded, his voice going up an octave the longer that Edwin doesn’t respond.

“I believe you, Charles.” His friend, previously sat next to him—so close that their legs were touching as they hung off the side of the bed—swiveled to sit cross legged on the bed, fully facing Charles.

“You do?” He moved to mirror Edwin. 

“Mhmm,” Edwin nodded, decisively. “I do.”

“Oh, that’s…. brills…” Frankly Charles was amazed that Edwin, of all people, believed him without hesitation. Edwin loved arguing about things, but he didn’t look like he was biting back a snide remark at all. Charles didn’t even know if he would believe himself about the wolf if he hadn’t, y’know, experienced it firsthand.

“So, uhm… what happened with this… wolf?” There was a mix of trepidation and curiosity in his voice.

“Well, I think it kinda,” Charles knew he was only testing the limits of Edwin’s faith in him, but he did ask, “It kinda saved my life, I reckon.”

Edwin merely sputtered in response.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I get it. But I was freezing and just stuck in the woods, alright? No way I was making it out until morning. If I made it to morning. Probably would’ve been a right Charles popsicle.” He tries for some levity but only receives a concerned frown in response. Tough crowd. “I just—Last thing I remember before waking up in the Uni’s clinic… was that wolf… trying to warm me up. Like it was trying to help me. Like it knew… something.”

Edwin continued to stay silent, but Charles could see a tremor in his roommate’s hands. Charles brought the heels of his hands to his eyes. “Oi, I am going mad, aren’t I? Just—Just forget all that tosh about a wolf, yeah? It was probably just some crazy dream or hallucination or—”

He felt Edwin’s hands come to tentatively grasp Charles’s wrists, lightly tugging them away from his face.

“Charles, Charles,” he called, trying to refocus Charles from his rambling. “If that was what happened, then that was what happened. You could tell me that a flying purple giraffe came, hand knit you a jumper made of candy floss and tap danced into the night. And I would accept it.”

“Well now that just sounds silly—"

“The important thing is that you are okay.” Edwin paused, then amended, “Relatively speaking.”  

“You know what they say, can’t keep a good lad down, right?” This second attempt a levity receiving a huff of a laugh from Edwin.

“Indeed.” He shook his head in a fond way.

“So, what about you?” Charles sniffed and wiped the remnants of his tears away. “What’s got you all out of sorts?”

Edwin leaned back slightly, drawing his lips into a thin line before answering, “Let’s get you sorted first.” He swiveled his legs off of the bed and nearly glided to a stand. Taking out his notebook from one of his desk’s drawers, he evaded any attempt for Charles to needle any real answer out of Edwin. “So,” a click of his pen punctuating his segue, “I assume you have yet to visit a chemist for any provisions, what did the doctors advise you to do for aftercare?”

Shortly after, Edwin made a trip to a nearby store to get Charles some ibuprofen and ice packs, despite Charles’s weak insistence that he would be fine. Charles neglected to mention that this wasn’t the first time he has had his ribs injured, but he didn’t want to address the questions that might prompt from Edwin. And anyways, when Edwin came back, he stayed with Charles for the rest of the day; forgoing a lecture or two he had that afternoon to have an impromptu movie marathon with Charles. That was a better painkiller than anything Edwin could have purchased.

Chapter Text

After taking a week off of work on Jenny’s insistence, Charles went back to the Cut & Brew for his first shift back. He felt nervous while walking to down to work—unable to reach Crystal since she was in the clinic with him. He didn’t have a phone, so he couldn’t text her directly (and either way he didn’t remember her number, so using Edwin’s ancient phone was bunk). Anytime he tried to call the café directly and ask Jenny, she would only sigh and tell him that Crystal wasn’t around at the moment—probably a blatant lie if the annoyance in Jenny’s sigh was anything to go by. If he asked her to give a message to Crystal, Jenny would merely assert that she was a landlord and not an answering machine, but would listen to the message, nonetheless. Charles couldn’t be sure that any of his messages reached Crystal. Or even if she stuck around to get any of them.

He supposed he would find out soon, but the anxiety of it was making him jumpy. Coming in through the back, he spotted Jenny first. After a moment of staring at each other, she nodded her head towards the front of house.

“Don’t go overdoing it, Charles,” Jenny remarked as he passed her. At first, he wasn’t quite sure what exactly she was referring to, if he was honest. “Can’t afford to lose you for another week.”

Ah, his injuries then.

“’Course,” Charles responded to Jenny’s subdued form of kindness. Taking out his black apron and affixing his name tag, he spotted Crystal at the espresso machine—so she didn’t leave town, that was good at least.

“Hey, Crys,” he lightly greeted, trying not to startle her, “Want me to man the register like usual?”

She merely gave him a look that either felt like she wanted to burst into tears or wither him to ash.

Charles cleared his throat, “Take that as a yes. I’ll just… be over here then.” Crystal went back to working on her current order.

This was going to be painful, Charles thought as he sat himself behind the counter. And for the first part of his shift, it was extremely painful. Crystal would only say the bare minimum to him in order to do their job properly, sometimes even bypassing him entirely to just do something herself. Her voice, when either deigning to speak to him or when calling out names for orders, lacked her usual spark. Like there was a dial on Crystal and someone cranked it all the way down from a 10 to a 2.

It angered him. David was winning. This was exactly what he wanted to have happen. If that cunt ever stepped foot near him again, Charles swears he would—

His train of thought was broken by the sound of ringing and the sight of a familiar face. Edwin. In the months that Charles had been working at the Cut & Brew, his mate had yet to visit him while he was working, until today. Charles always thought about asking why but had yet to find a way that wouldn’t come across as needy.

Tagging along with Edwin was a new face. A cheerful looking girl with long white hair, currently talking Edwin’s ear off. He didn’t look annoyed at the conversation, quite the opposite in fact; this discovery intrigued Charles. The duo grabbed a free table near one of the front windows, with Edwin in direct view of Charles, and started to unpack a series of laptops and other work gear. So, they were staying for a while—that was also new and, if Charles could be frank, sorely needed after the past hours with Crystal stonewalling him.

After a quick look about, making sure no one looked like they were jonesing for an americano anytime soon, Charles jumped over the counter and walked up to the two of them. Crystal made a noise as he did so, annoyed with his parkour attempt.

“Hello, Charles,” Edwin greeted as he approached.

“Hey Edwin,” Charles shifted his attention to the girl, “And who’s your friend?”

“Oh! Niko,” she supplied sweetly, popping up from where she sat to stand in front of him, “Niko Sasaki.”

“Niko and I share a comparative literature class,” Edwin elaborated as he continued to unpack and set up at his seat.

“Ah, so you’re a smarty pants like Edwin too, yeah?” Edwin scoffed at the description and Charles felt himself grinning like a fool.

“Oh, thank you,” Niko says shyly, her voice both soft and loud at the same time, “I just really love reading is all.”

“Do not downplay your abilities, Niko. You have by far the best reading comprehension of anyone in the course, myself included,” Edwin said. He often bestowed those types of complements freely and genuinely, as if he had an endless supply of them. Charles never understood how Edwin kept thinking himself a person bad with others.

“Any friend of Edwin is aces in my book,” he extended his hand for a shake.

“Lovely to meet you, Charles,” she reciprocated the handshake with both hands, almost like his hand was getting a hug. “I haven’t met many people since transferring here.”

“Well now you’ve met me. So plus one to that counter,” Charles gave a charming smirk to which Niko responded with a slight smile, like she was the living embodiment of the ‘c:’ emoticon.

“Charles!” a grumpy Crystal called out, with probably the most energy that Charles had heard from her today, “Get your ass back here.” Some people started to line up at the register—must be one of those bursts of activity after lectures let out but before other classes begin.

“Back in a tick!” He waved back at Crystal, who merely rolled her eyes and returned to making a drink. Quickly turning around to address Edwin and Niko—that latter of whom looked upset that she might have gotten him in trouble—Charles said, “I’ll bring you lot some drinks when things quiet down, yeah? On the house, of course.”

"We can surely pay for our beverages, Charles,” Edwin motioned between the two of them, “I did not come here to take advantage of your generosity."

"Oi. None of that,” he playfully hit Edwin on the arm, “I mean, what's the point of workin' at a café if I can't give a free coffee every now and then?"

"I am not sure that's how your employment works," Edwin replied dryly, but ultimately not offering any more resistance. Charles chuckled to himself as he walked back to the counter, leaving Edwin to continue his coursework with Niko.

Having them in Charles’s sight line as he continued his shift improved his mood considerably, especially after the failure to make much headway with Crystal. He would see Niko energetically point something out in a book to Edwin, garnering a grin in response. He would spy Edwin in deep concentration as he typed away on his modest laptop, developing a small crease in the space between his eyebrows as he did so. It calmed him amidst the rush of patrons. An hour and change later, when the Cut & Brew died down again, Charles whipped up a simple Earl Grey tea with a splash of milk and two sugars for Edwin and a Strawberry Macha Latte for Niko. Okay, well, Crystal whipped up Niko’s order, after Charles hemmed and hawed over what sort of drink to make. As he started to reach for some milk to steam, Crystal quietly slid over the completed drink.

“For your friend,” she merely said.

“This is brills, Crystal,” Charles replied as he examined the drink, pulling out a whip cream canister to give it an appropriate finish. “Swear you must be psychic sometimes.”

“What.” Crystal choked out, as a statement rather than a question.

“Y’know,” Charles explained, trying to see if he could keep this conversation going, “Cause you are great at figuring out people’s orders without even asking.”

“Oh, yeah. That,” she seemed to regain some composure and scanned the café, “Barista’s intuition or something. I’m gonna… go take my break now. You good to cover in the meantime?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Charles was a tad dejected but reeled in the want to push her more, putting on a cheery smile before continuing, “Learned from the best, didn’t I?”

Crystal smirked at the thinly veiled complement and left out through the plastic curtains to the back. Charles let out an exhale before grabbing the drinks and walking back over to Niko and Edwin’s table (no jumping the counter this time).

Chapter Text

Charles placed the drinks in front of each of them and plopped himself down beside Edwin on the bench. He could hang with his friends for a bit and see if anyone was going to come in for a bev at the same time. Win-win.

“How did you know?!” Niko marveled as she looked at the pink drink. With her index finger, she swiped a bit of the whipped cream off and tasted it, humming in delight as she did so.

“Can’t take the credit for that, can I?” Charles noted, “That was all Crystal.” At the mention of her name, Edwin stared down at his drink thoughtfully.

“Thank you, Charles,” he replied, taking a small sip of his tea, “Though you must let us pay next time.”

“We’ll see about that,” Charles winked. Niko giggled. And Edwin rolled his eyes. Which really just captured their personalities.

Charles leaned slightly towards Edwin. “So, is this the lucky lady you took on a date the other week?” A fair assessment, he thought, seeing how friendly he seemed to be with Niko. How Charles only just now met her.

Apparently… Edwin thought otherwise. He nearly spit out the tea he was drinking at the question.

“B-beg your pardon?” He sputtered out, exasperated and a tad embarrassed. Nearby patrons glanced over in their direction to try to discern what the fuss what about.

“Oh! Edwin!” Niko interjected, giddy. Apparently, Charles also wasn’t as quiet as he thought he was being. “Did you end up telling that boy that you liked them?!” Her hands clasped in front of herself in excitement, hiding a grin in her hands.

Oh.

Boy.

Boy.

Edwin looked as if he wanted the ground to swallow him whole. A scarlet blush crept up from his neck to his cheek. He closed his eyes, “We really must have a discussion on discretion, Niko.” His voice, while calm and level for the most part, held a faint tremor underneath.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Edwin abruptly stood up, nearly elbowing Charles in the head in the process, “I-I just need some air.” He rushed out the front of the café quickly after, before Charles or Niko could utter any reassurance or comment to have him stay. The two watched Edwin disappear from view of the front windows. Niko and Charles then looked at each other for a moment.

“Well, he didn’t take his things, so he’ll be back,” Niko offered softly.

“Yeah, yeah,” Charles muttered, staring down at Edwin’s tea, barely touched. “So… uh… a boy?”

“You didn’t know?” Her voice sounded equal parts sympathetic and curious.

“Edwin’s a secretive guy, yeah?” he replied, a bit dazed, “I mean… guess I never really asked, if I’m being honest.”

“Oh.” Charles looked up to see a puzzled expression on Niko’s face.

“Not—not that I’m judging or nothin’,” Charles hurriedly added, “Love is love and all that.” He smirked for a tick; teeth clenched for some reason. “Guess he just didn’t strike me as the type who cared for any of that. Relationships and dating and such.”

“What about you?” Niko inquired thoughtfully, stirring her drink with its straw, “Do you care about that kind of stuff?”

Charles felt himself falter. “Y-yeah. I suppose. Never thought about the specifics of any of that myself.”

He’d fancied people before. Snogged a few girls at school. Liked it—well, really liked it, actually. But his home life never really led to any sort of long-term relationships, just as it had never allowed for any meaningful friendships. He only ever had short-lived flings and only with girls. I mean, he had admired the looks of some blokes on the telly but—

“Never had the opportunity to think about it, really,” Charles added.

Niko hummed. “And what about now?”

“I—” Charles didn’t know how to respond. He played with Edwin’s cup to have something to fiddle with, “I don’t know. I mean… guess I could now…”

He wasn’t under the watchful eye of his dad, the ever-present threat of his anger. The only thing on his mind had been to get out. Go to uni. Get a job. Maybe even try to get his mum away from his dad if he could.

Hell, he didn’t even give a lot of thought as to what to go to St. Hilarion’s for. They gave him a scholarship. He picked the least offensive sounding specialization to study, business—something that he was pretty sure he could get a well-paying job with, something that his dad wouldn’t put up much of a fight with. And he left.

Niko’s hands came to rest on Charles’s hands. Comforting. “You don’t have to force yourself if you don’t want to. Just an option,” she said with a sad smile, removing her hands and bringing them back to her lap, “I mean, what would I know? I haven’t even been kissed yet. Just been stuck in my room with my nose in a book.”

“I’m sure whoever you end up with will be extremely lucky to have you, Niko.” Both Niko and Charles smiled at each other, hopeful.

“Thanks, Charles,” she looked down, bashful.

“That’s what friends are for, yeah?”

“Yeah. That’s probably true,” Niko replied cheerfully. Looking around, she switched topics, vaguely nervous, “You should get back to the counter before you get in trouble again.”

“You’re probably right,” Charles stood up reluctantly, “Let me know if you need anything, okay?”

“Okay.” She nodded at him before taking a long sip of her drink—the whipped cream a tad deflated with the time that had passed and the stirring she had done.

After a patron or three, Crystal came back from her break, looking pensive. Edwin returning through the front a short moment afterwards. Crystal became less combative to Charles. Still a tad distant, but more willing to work with him in their usual tandem. Edwin and Niko were in a hushed conversation after his return, seemingly more concentrated on their respective coursework.

Charles was a bit stuck in his head for the remainder of his shift, trying to catalogue all the things he hadn’t allowed himself to have an opinion on.

“Hey,” Crystal nudged Charles. He blinked several times. “Time to clock out, dude.”  She nodded towards a clock on the wall. Charles realized it was now dark outside, the café was about empty, and Edwin and Niko were gone; the two seemingly having left some time ago (which he can only recall faintly). Damn, he really must have been in his head, hadn’t he?

“Oh,” Charles said, distracted. As he gained clarity, he put on a reassuring smile, “Must’ve lost track of time, huh?” He moved to take off his apron and head out the back but was stopped by Crystal grabbing his arm. He turned to face her.

“Charles,” she was looking at his shoulder, intentionally. “I’m sorry. For ditching you, I mean. At the hospital.”

“Oh, it wasn’t—”

“No, Charles,” Crystal now made eye contact with him, her voice solid and definitive, “Don’t just brush it off. It was a dick move of me. Doesn’t matter what shit I have going on with David… I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

Her arms were now crossed tightly over herself. “I just… I let him get in my head. I hate thinking that I was the reason you were attacked. You’re a nice guy, Charles.” She exhaled. Charles could hear the sound of her foot tapping rapidly.

“S’kinda what he wants, yeah?” Charles said tentatively, “Wants you to hate yourself. Wants you to only think about him.”

She groaned, bringing her hands now to her head in frustration. “I know. I knowww,” she whined, “Fuck. Fuck.” She started pacing in a tight circle, her foot movement escalating.

“…Dickhead’s not gonna stop me being your friend, Crystal.”

“It should.” She whipped her body to him, eyes now looking teary. Charles was thankful the Cut & Brew was now truly empty.

“Maybe,” he shrugged, “But it’s not, innit?”

Crystal looked at him for a second. Then crashed into him with a hug. Charles couldn’t hide a gasp of pain.

“Oh, shit!” she quickly let go, covering her mouth with her hands in embarassment, “I forgot.”

Charles chuckled, rubbing his side, “All good. Just give me a couple of weeks first, yeah?”

Crystal chuckled back, “Deal.”

Chapter Text

It became a regular occurrence after that; Niko and Edwin coming to the café, with his roommate often waiting for the end of Charles’s shift to walk back to dorm together. Niko and Edwin would even pick the same table each time: the one by the window with Edwin facing the counter and Niko across from him.

After a week, Charles even spied Crystal putting out a ‘reserved’ placard on their table—even though the Cut & Brew didn’t really do that sort of thing and Jenny would be crossed if she found out; Crystal would have a new creation for Niko to try right as she arrived, Niko giving notes and showering heavy praise each time. Edwin’s drink of choice was still the same, an aptly appropriate London Fog. Even though Charles would try to give him the drink for free, Edwin always insisted on paying and, failing that, would sneak a large tip (over the cost of both of their drinks combined) in their tip jar, which recently received an extravagant make-over from Niko.

Charles was feeling on top of the world, if he was being honest. He got his friends back, plus a lovely new addition in Niko, his ribs seemed to be healing fairly well, and he was feeling pretty confident for his upcoming end of term assessments.

And he hadn’t seen hide nor hair of dickhead David.

It was a Thursday afternoon, if he remembered correctly, when Niko came to the coffeeshop by herself.

To Charles’s confused expression, Niko supplied, “Edwin told me something came up and he wouldn’t be able to be here today.” At his slightly deflated response—when did he almost need the two of them to visit?—Niko did a sympathetic frown, “I’m sorry!”

“Not your fault, Niko,” Crystal wryly responded, somehow also working on a complex drink simultaneously, “Charles is just butthurt that his husband didn’t come by to say hi.”

“Oi, nuff of that,” Charles replied, a bit grumpier than intended. Nudging Crystal’s arm with his own, he continued, “Just because you think we act like an old married couple on acid, doesn’t mean we are one.”

“Sure, sure…” She trailed out, “Edwin just tries to escort you home every shift like some posh gentleman out of Bridgerton.” An overly dramatic posh accent colored the latter half of her teasing.

Charles leaned into Crystal space, muttering, “Don’t think I haven’t seen how you’ve been acting around Niko, going all off menu and such.”

Crystal glared at him. “She just appreciates my skill and creativity…” It was weak, they both glance to Niko as she set up her workspace at the same seat at the same table. “Anyway,” Crystal huffed as she bent down to retrieve the whipped cream dispenser from the small fridge underneath the counter, “David’s still lurking around somewhere. And Niko is too… good to pull into all my shit.”

The mention of that cunt put Charles on edge, gritting his teeth. He wanted to say so much to Crystal, try to comfort her in some way, but he still felt on shaky ground with her. And part of him feared what his anger might twist into. He crouched down to be on level with Crystal, his tone turning soft, “And Edwin’s just my best mate, yeah? He fancies some other bloke anyways.”

Charles tried to talk to Edwin… the day that he about ran away after getting accidentally outed by Niko. At first, his roomie attempted to play everything off as if it didn’t happen, but Charles wouldn’t have it.

“Hey, there’s nothing to worry about, okay?” Charles blurted in the silence, “Don’t matter one bit to me who you love… if that is what you’re afraid of.”

Edwin stared at him, quizzically, putting down the book he was reading. “Thank you, Charles,” he said quietly, “I...” He stopped his thought with a short hum. His face smoothed to something unreadable, his gaze far off, “Not everyone has been so accepting of my sexuality.” After… whatever that was… Edwin looked back up at Charles with a small grin.

He wanted to ask Edwin more but, well, Charles didn’t know shit about his own preferences, let alone what to even talk to Edwin about. And, besides, it seemed like one of those times where his mate’s defenses were firmly in place, despite how unguarded he had started to be around Charles.

Crystal and Charles looked at each other in a quiet battle of wills. She opened her mouth to say something when—

“Are you two playing hide and seek right now? Really?”

Jenny. The two of them sprang up from their crouching. They turned to see their manager’s arms crossed and her eyes shooting exasperated daggers at them.

“Get back to work,” she nodded at the register, where a student was really not looking to be part of this interaction. They all continued to stand in place. “Now?!” Jenny snapped, half question, half command. Crystal and Charles jolted into action and scrambled to get back to work, their line of conversation currently at a ceasefire.

It was a short shift today, the sky still bright out as Charles grabbed a bus back to campus. They were getting closer and closer to the end of term. Closer and closer to the start of winter break. He wasn’t going back home. He knew that when he climbed out of his basement room window with a duffel and a backpack. In many ways, it was a relief to not have the added tension of the holidays—the stress of appearing like a happy-go-lucky family to his relatives, feeling his dad’s eyes bore into his back, examining his every story and answer to see how much it disgraced the family (i.e. disgraced him). Being berated when everyone left for any minuscule thing he failed to be, failed to say. Really put a whole new meaning behind Boxing Day. The whole thing churned Charles’s stomach.

But in many other ways, there was a guilt gnawing at Charles as well. Leaving his mum to defend for herself. The bittersweet homesickness of the nostalgic undercurrents of warmth and joy with the festivities. The feeling of loneliness with the idea that all of his friends may be off doing their own thing during the weeks. Leaving Charles by himself to celebrate—hard to do a Christmas cracker with one person, he reckoned morosely.

Charles’s melancholia became quickly forgotten as a familiar figure passed his periphery. He swiveled to the source, preparing to greet his friend. His arm half-extended in a wave before aborting as the scene comes into view.

Edwin was leaning against an exterior wall of one of the many brick buildings on campus (Charles couldn’t tell you what the building was exactly for even). His mate’s arms were crossed, giving off the appearance of unaffected aloofness. One side of his mouth quirked up in amusement and his eyebrows ever so slightly furrowed, like he was playing a game.

That in and of itself wouldn’t be so shocking, but the blonde encroaching on his mate was. The bloke’s hair was fluffy and wild yet must have been meticulously maintained to look effortless. One of his arms was posted up on the wall next to Edwin’s neck, supporting him as he leaned into his friend’s space—something that Charles knew would properly annoy Edwin. But Edwin didn’t look as crossed as Charles would expect him to be… which in turn annoyed Charles instead. In the blonde’s other arm was a thick black tome of a book.

But the worst thing of all, the guy’s smile. Like he was the cat that got the cream it was. Almost reminded Charles of David’s shite eating grin but, where it looked plain sleezy on David, it looked charming and devious on this bloke.

…Which really just further annoyed Charles. He didn’t like this blonde fashion model type circling his friend like he wants to eat him alive.

Charles wanted to go up and interrupt their whole rendezvous, but then he hesitated as a thought crossed his mind.

Was this the boy that Edwin liked? The guy he went on a date with?

He tried to not feel like a total weirdo as he continued to spy on their conversation.  Each making what looked like pointed remarks back and forth. Neither budging an inch in distance nor disposition. Charles now—oh so stealthily—pivoted to position himself not in the middle of a walkway, gaping like a mad fish for everyone to see. He opted to lean against a tree, all nonchalant like, pretending to look at something on his phone. One of the very, very few benefits of always needing to be aware of someone, no matter where they were, was that you got wicked good at covertly watching someone out of the weird parts of your eyes.

He should be a private eye, Charles idlily thought as he kept tabs on their interaction. It wasn’t a long one or, if it was, Charles must’ve only stumbled upon them during the end. The blonde, after comments that seemed to exasperate Edwin if his eyes rolling were any indication, moved further into Edwin’s space. Charles nearly thought the bloke was gonna snog Edwin—his heart weirdly jumping at that notion—but he merely moved to whisper into his friend’s ear.

As if they haven’t already been speaking all hush hush with how close they were. Charles rolled his eyes at the flirting.

Edwin’s mouth seemed to press into a line. His body looked tense. And then, almost out of nowhere, the mystery guy stood back, no longer leaning into Edwin’s space; his one arm now back to his side. The book the blonde was holding now pushed into Edwin’s chest, who, in turn, hugged it to keep the tome from falling.

With one more indecipherable comment, the bloke shoved his hands into his pockets and… sauntered away. Like the whole affair never happened.

“Bit anticlimactic, innit?” Charles muttered to himself, feeling some sort of relief and satisfaction.

Edwin now repositioned the book to be clasped within his hands instead, intensely examining the front cover. But he didn’t look in a hurry to open or read the thing.

Charles re-entered the pathway, like he had only just walked from the bus stop to that spot. He made a show of recognizing Edwin “for the first time.”

“Oi! Hey! Edwin!” Charles waved and lightly jogged over to his friend, who nearly dropped the book, startled by Charles’s greeting. That answered the question of whether Edwin had spotted him earlier.

“Oh, greetings Charles,” Edwin smiled as Charles approached. In contrast to his earlier smirk, this grin felt warmer, more relaxed.

Charles pointed casually at the textbook. “Whatcha got? Some light reading material?” He tried to play off his curiosity as a small joke, maneuvering his head all around to get a look at every angle.

He saw Edwin’s shoulders stiffen a tick before relaxing. Curious. “Oh, this? Nothing. Some text to translate for extra credit.”

“And the blonde chap?” Charles hitched a thumb back.

Edwin looked a bit surprised, but responded nonetheless, “Thomas? He is a graduate student for Professor Finch of the Linguistics Department.” He gestured the book, “He supplied me with the aforementioned text.”

The two naturally started to walk back to their room, neither conscious of the unsaid direction they were going.

Charles kept going, still attempting some form of levity and casualness to his inquiry, “Seemed like more than just a book delivery, mate.”

“So, you saw that,” Edwin trailed off.

“—that the boy you fancy?” Charles interrupted, nudging Edwin’s shoulder with his shoulder. He would be a supportive friend, goddammit. …Even if Thomas grated his nerves.

“Uh. Uhm.” Edwin seemed at a loss for words, merely blinking in response.

“Oh, I get it. Can’t get caught fooling around with a TA, yeah? Conflict of interest, innit?” Charles was starting to ramble. Edwin made no effort to confirm or deny. “Don’t worry, mum’s the word and all that jazz.” Charles mimed zipping his lips close and throwing away a fake key. Some part of him knew that he should stop, but he couldn’t get himself to shut up. And Edwin’s reaction, or lack thereof, wasn’t helping with that effort.

So… Charles just started rambling more. Like a runaway train heading off an unfinished bridge. He long since moved on from Thomas, switching the conversation to talk about anything other than Edwin’s crush, love life, et cetera.

As they crossed the threshold of their room, Edwin—who had been more or less silent the whole time—placed a hand on Charles’s shoulder. He immediately stopped the onslaught of words coming out of his mouth.

“Thank you for the walk back,” he simply said.

They continued their night as if nothing out of the ordinary happened.

But Charles’s thoughts kept coming back to Thomas.

…And the black book on Edwin’s desk. 

Chapter Text

End of term assessments. Otherwise known as, Charles and Edwin camped out in their dorm preparing for their various exams and projects for about a week straight. With the occasional appearance of Niko—to bounce ideas off of Edwin for their comparative literature module paper—and Crystal—to provide much needed food and caffeine (as she was the only one holding down the fort at the Cut & Brew while they were in crunch time).

“Man, this is making me so glad I’m not dealing with this BS anymore,” Crystal commented one evening as she entered their room, various papers and takeaway boxes littering the room. Niko looked up from where she worked, cross legged on Edwin’s bed, and gave a cheerful wave at Crystal, not betraying how incredibly tired she must have been. Edwin let out a hum as Crystal set down his drink on his desk. He otherwise didn’t acknowledge her, nose deep in a book.

“You’re a life saver, Crys,” Charles thanked as he greedily reached for the mocha she brought for him. He was probably the only one who looked knackered out of the three of them, even though they were all proper exhausted.

“Yeah, well,” Crystal flopped next to Charles on his bed, ruffling a few stray papers in the process (though, more importantly, the coffee didn’t spill), “It’s boring at the café without you guys around.”

Niko aww’d at the sentiment through a long sip from her Strawberry Matcha Latte—her tried and true favorite.

“Everyone’s practically a zombie around campus,” Crystal continued on, “So Jenny can actually stand to be working the front. Which gives me even more free time to bother you all.”

“Great,” Edwin grumbled out, “Because that is definitely what we need, more distractions.” Crystal grinned deviously, though Edwin made no effort to turn around to see.

“Oi. Manners. She brought us sustenance, didn’t she?”

“Yeah, Edwin, didn’t I?” Crystal piled on, seemingly enjoying pushing Edwin’s buttons.

A beleaguered sigh escaped Edwin. “Fine.” He finally turned around in his seat to look at Charles and Crystal. “Crystal… I appreciate your… presence… during this hectic time.”

“Wow, Edwin, sound more like I’m pulling your teeth out, why don’t you?” Crystal’s comment stepped a tad past Edwin’s cordiality, glaring at her insinuation.

“Americans,” Edwin huffed and turned back to his work, pulling out a pair of noise cancelling headphones—an early Christmas present from Niko, as she would be heading back to Osaka at the end of term—and making a minor show of tuning the rest of them out. And by them, it was really tuning Crystal out.

“Oh, there's that famous British politeness I hear so much about,” She snickered to herself, earning a joking punch from Charles.

They continued to work for the rest of the evening with Crystal simply scrolling on her phone next to Charles while the others were busy. It was past midnight by the time their room was back to just the two of them—Crystal and Niko ducking out to grab dinner and head to their respective flats. Niko gave Edwin a side hug before leaving and, though he vaguely reciprocated the hug, Edwin stayed in an ultra-focused mode, headphones still on.

Charles eventually got up to stretch, his legs and neck sore from hunching over his work. He sauntered over to Edwin’s desk, leaning against the side and waving a hand in front of his face.

“Earth to Edwin. Come in, Edwin.” He startled a bit, as if Charles had awoken him from a trance. Noticing his roommate in front of him, the headphones finally came off, a faint EDM beat sounding from the speakers.

“Yes, Charles?” Edwin even sounded a bit dazed.

“You good, mate?” Charles looked down at the book Edwin was absorbed in. It was that black tome from before. He couldn’t make heads or tails of the writing—certainly didn’t look like any language he knew. But there were pictures and pretty gnarly ones at that. Churned his stomach they did—which feels silly considering they are just drawings. They seemed to be graphic depictions of a person being ripped in two with a monster emerging from their body, like they were just a skin suit for this massive beast. A shiver traveled up Charles’s spine.

Edwin noticed him looking at the book and closed it swiftly. Charles tried not to feel offended. Tried to quell a morbid curiosity to look at the book himself.

“Quite alright,” Edwin coughed, like he was attempting to clear up any awkwardness, “My apologizes, I was particularly engrossed in the translation of this text.” Edwin gracefully stood up from his chair, taking in the room.

“When did the girls leave?” He asked, brows scrunched a tick.

“Couple of hours ago,” Charles answered warily, “Seems like we need to call it a night, yeah?”

Edwin looked back to the book. Then back at Charles. “But—”

“The book will be there in the morning. Still got a couple of days to work on assessments,” Charles poked lightly at Edwin’s temple, “Gotta give that brain of yours a rest, yeah?”

At the mention of a break, he could see Edwin’s shoulders, previously tense with anxious energy, settle. His façade was finally breaking; his exhaustion catching up to him.

“I suppose you’re right,” Edwin admitted finally, albeit reluctantly.

“Damn right I am,” Charles smiled, “Come on, let’s grab something from the cantina and chill for a bit.”

Edwin simply nodded and allowed Charles shepherded to him out of their room. As they headed off to the ground floor, opting to take the stairs to make up for their sedentary study time, Charles tried to broach the subject of the book.

“So…” he started, all casual like, “What’s that book of yours about? Looked a bit morbid, didn’t it?”

“Huh?” Edwin once again snapping out of wherever his mind went off to. With Charles’s expectant look, his friend frowned a bit but talked. “The book is about supernatural folklore.”

“Like ghosts and goblins?” Charles kept trying to play his interest off as a cheeky fun, wiggling his fingers in emphasis, “Nessie? Bigfoot?”

“More grounded in… reality,” Edwin answered diplomatically. He seemed unwilling elaborate further.

After a short pause, Charles continued, “didn’t take you for someone into that sort of thing.”

“It is hard to entirely discount the possibility of everything, but I do try to practice healthy skepticism.”

“If by ‘healthy skepticism,’ you mean intense scrutiny, then I agree,” Charles quipped with a smirk. Edwin rolled his eyes and smirked. The heaviness in his gaze receding.

As they reached the bottom landing and went into the main atrium of their hall of residence, Charles noticed an abundance of flurries outside. Charles had mixed feelings about winter and snow. Snowy days tended to mean having to be stuck inside. Stuck in his house—which was the very last place he wanted to be. But now… in this new light…

He pointed out the lazily falling snow to Edwin. “Proper beautiful, yeah?” Taking a quick detour to admire the weather, Charles moved closer to one of the many windows adorning the atrium. Edwin followed suit. The two of them standing next to each other while at the window.

“Quite beautiful, indeed,” Edwin commented softly, with remarkable fondness.

“Looks all otherworldly, with the moon reflecting off the snow and all that,” Charles gazed up, the sky remarkably clear given the current weather. “Speaking of… almost a full moon, innit? It will look even more ethereal then, I reckon.”

“There will be a full moon in four days,” Edwin noted under his breath, almost clinically. Charles could feel him clenching and unclenching his fists. Edwin only seemed to do that when he was particularly stressed. Charles turned to look at him.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Charles frowned, scanning Edwin up and down, “I haven’t seen you this tense since that bloke couple doors down from us kept spitting his gum out in the hallway.”

“We live in a shared space,” Edwin grumbled, remembering the incident. He eventually tracked down the careless gum chewer and, appropriately, chewed him out about it. Charles watched on with a perverse sort of glee (and to make sure the guy didn’t try to pull any funny business with Edwin).

Edwin continued, “It’s common courtesy to not be an absolute barbarian. It took weeks to get the crud off of my shoes…”

“You didn’t answer my question, mate. What’s got you so tense?” Charles tried again.

Much of the agitation built up in Edwin released as he let out a deep exhale. “I am fine, Charles,” he said in a decidedly not-fine way. He deflated a bit before adding, “I am merely hungry is all. Let’s get something to eat, shall we?”

“Yeah, mate. Crack on.”  The silence between them as they grabbed food and headed back to their room was stilted, where minutes prior it was comforting—like they could talk, but didn’t need to. It unnerved Charles. Edwin looked more or less neutral, which usually meant he was unnerved as well.

The more Charles tried to ask about the book, the cagier Edwin was getting about it. And he might not be as book smart as Edwin, but Charles didn’t get a scholarship to St. Hilarion for nothing. No way in hell that book was just some extra credit—like Edwin would even need some form of extra credit. Something was up with Edwin. With that book.

And Charles was going to get to the bottom of it.

Chapter Text

There was an obvious way to get the answer to Charles’s question: check Edwin’s notebook. He wrote about every minutia of his life in between those pages. Exactly why he does that, Charles never quite puzzled out, but if anything was up with Edwin, it would be documented in intricate detail there.

The problem was, however, that Charles couldn’t bring himself to try to pilfer and snoop through his journal. It wasn’t that he lacked the skill to do so; On the contrary, Charles had done his fair share of shoplifting when he was younger that he had no doubt that he could grab it, look through it, and place it back on Edwin’s person without him being any the wiser.

It’s just… it felt wrong. Like Charles would be defiling something sacred just to have his curiosity sated. No, no. He couldn’t, even with how tempting an option that was. He would figure it all out without crossing that line.

Instead, he decided to track down the only other person Charles knew would know what that book was about: the bloke who gave Edwin the book. Thomas.

Knowing what little information Edwin leaked about Thomas—that he was a graduate student under Professor Finch—a quick search of the University’s directory gave Charles his full name: Thomas Lyttel. After that, thanks to his prior social media addiction, he was able to find Thomas on Instagram, Twitter, Facebook… you name it.

Nothing was particularly revealing with his social media, aside from the fact that

(1) he seemed to drastically change his style at the drop of the hat (not beating the model allegations)

(2) he was a massive flirt (his username was @DontKissAndLyttel for fuck’s sake)

(3) he still seemed like a colossal tosser

“What does Edwin see in this guy?” Charles grumbled as he scrolled through what must have been the seventeenth thirst trap in two weeks.

“Oi. Hold on a tick,” Charles mumbled as he landed on a picture of Thomas all smiley at a local pub in the village. Seemed like the best place to track him down.

“Do I want to know why you are calling late at night, Charles?” Crystal asked as she picked up Charles’s call (from his newly acquired cell). Niko and Edwin were at the campus library for the evening, putting the finishing touches on their papers, so Charles could sneak about without raising suspicion. “Shouldn’t you be studying or something?”

And yeah, he had an exam the next morning, but this took priority. Exam should be cake anyways.

“Just need a small favor, yeah? Nothing big,” Charles placated Crystal. “Could you head over to a pub called The Cannery and see if you can spot a bloke for me?” He texted a picture of Thomas to Crystal. He put the phone back to his ear, continuing, “Just texted you what he looks like.”

He heard rustling on the other end. After a muffled scoff, Crystal talked again, “I mean, sure. I can. But, like, why?”

“It’s…” Charles paused, unsure how to explain what seemed like, objectively, a batshit crazy concern he had for his friend.

At his hesitation, Crystal supplied an explanation, her voice venomous, “He isn’t one of those fuckers who attacked you, is he?”

“No!” Charles quickly corrected; he wanted to get Thomas to answer a few questions, not to answer to Crystal’s fists. He went from shouting to a more hushed tone, “He’s not—not one of them. If he was, I wouldn’t even think about getting you involved, yeah?”

Crystal hummed in annoyance, like she was upset that he wouldn’t involve her in some retribution, “I mean, Jenny’s been teaching me a lot of neat knife skills…”

“Remind me to not get on your bad side ever again.”

Crystal chuckled. “Too late,” her voice felt like she was sticking her tongue out at him, “So spill, Rowland, before I castrate a rando.”

“There’s something up with Edwin and I think he might know why.”

“And you can’t just… ask Edwin what’s going on?” She stated, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Like she wasn’t sure that Charles would think to do that.

Charles groaned, “I’ve tried! He just gets all dodgy about it. Won’t tell me anything.”

Rustling once again came over the phone speaker. He heard a faraway Crystal say something to the effect of “boys are so stupid” with exasperation. There was even more rustling. Charles was starting to worry a tad.

“Fine. I’ll text you if I see pretty boy,” Crystal acquiesced with only minor agitation, “Just… don’t do anything dumb, okay? You’ve already gone through enough shit for one year.”

“Good thing New Year’s is soon then, isn’t it?”

“I’m hanging up now,” she said deadpanned, giving Edwin a run for his money.

Around a half hour later, Charles recieved a ping from Crystal, complete with a blurry pic of Thomas sitting alone at the bar.

<Found him. Came in a few minutes ago.>

<brills crystal. owe u one>

He hoisted his backpack over his shoulder, squinting as headlights came to a stop near him. Charles had been hanging by the bus stop for a good while already, having a hunch that Crystal was going to spot Thomas at the pub. And too full of energy to just wait in his room.

The trip down was relatively quick and uneventful; Charles now typically opting to take the bus to town (if was after dark and he was alone). Before he knew it, Charles found himself inside The Cannery. He hoped Crystal wasn’t still inside; he was unsure how much he wanted her to see him try to interrogate the poor sod—hoping that the conversation would remain civil.

With a quick scan, Charles couldn’t spy the curly maroon tinted shock of hair he associated with Crystal. But he did see Thomas and an open stool beside him.

“Thomas, yeah?” Charles said cooly as he hopped onto the seat, directly facing the suave looking grad student.

Thomas eyed him warily, eyes panning the full length of his body, like he was either analyzing or undressing Charles with his eyes—he didn’t quite care for either option. After his “inspection,” he responded, “Do I… know you?”

“We have a mutual friend.”

Thomas barked a laugh, “You’re going to have to be more specific than that.” He sounded like a predator playing with his meal before going in for the kill; His index finger lazily tracing the rim of his pint glass. “I have many friends,” he added, smirking.

Charles sighed, already regretting this conversation. “Edwin.”

“Oh Edwin,” Thomas purred out the last syllable, eyes glinting. “He’s not with you, is he?” His gaze darts behind Charles.

“No. Just me.”

“Oh. Boo.” Thomas turned to face the bar counter, deeming Charles boring.

A few moments pass where Thomas decidedly ignored Charles’s existence. Charles cleared his throat. Nothing. Aggravated, he just asked, “You aren’t going to ask me why I’m here?”

“Eh. Don’t want to know. Don’t care,” Thomas side-eyed Charles, “But you clearly want me to ask.”

Idly, Charles thought about how satisfying it would be to punch him in the face, but he wasn’t exactly keen on starting a bar fight and getting arrested. Still. It was certainly tempting.

“You gave Edwin a book some weeks ago. Black leather brick of a tome, yeah? What was it about?”

That seemed to re-pique Thomas’s interest. He turned to face Charles once more. He cocked his head to a side, “Why don’t you just ask him?”

“Well, I’m asking you, aren’t I?”

“Ah, so he won’t tell you, is that it?” Thomas leaned conspiratorially towards Charles, intentionally lowering his voice so he would have to lean in too, “Then why should I?” A bright grin erupted. Charles’s flicker of annoyance started to turn into a flame of anger. He shoved Thomas out of his space. Enough to make a statement, but not enough to be misconstrued into a threat of physical violence.

“This was a stupid idea,” Charles gritted out. He slammed a few notes on the counter (for a drink he never ordered) and stormed out of The Cannery.

He was halfway down the block before he heard, “You must be Charles, then?” Charles pivoted to see that Thomas followed him out.

“Yeah.” Charles crossed his arms, not wanting to play whatever game Thomas seemed to be playing.

“Edwin’s mentioned you before.” Thomas sauntered nearer to close the distance Charles had on him. “The… roommate.”

Charles didn’t quite know how to read into the way Thomas said roommate, but it certainly held something more than just “person you lived with.”

“He’s my best mate.” he felt the need to clarify.

Once again, Thomas seemed to intently examine him. Charles looked away from the scrutiny.

“The book is about shapeshifters,” Thomas said abruptly, his voice losing all playful jest and settling on something approaching normal. Charles snapped his attention back, in disbelief that he was actually going to get an answer. “Specifically, it’s a chronicle of history and folklore pertaining to animal based shapeshifting phenomena.”

“Like…”

Thomas sighed and glanced up, like he was the one being civil and trying his best to put up with Charles. “You know… fox spirits… selkies… lycanthropes?”

“Lycan-what?”

“Werewolves, man, werewolves!”  Thomas threw his arms up in the air, “God! Do you not know anything about anything?”

Charles couldn’t quite clock the rest of what Thomas said—couldn’t even muster the wherewithal to be offended by Thomas’s remark. Charles simply, and most likely gracelessly, ditched Thomas to rush back up to campus. He was unsure if he took the bus or just ran like hell. Charles felt like his ears were both rushing with blood and ringing with tinnitus. His face felt flushed. His heart was thumping near out of his chest.

It was like his body figured everything out but wouldn’t tell his brain the answer.

After taking a couple of tries to unlock his room—his hands holding a slight tremor—the noise of Charles’s thoughts started to coalesce into something recognizable. Things he didn’t quite want to believe coming back into focus. A potential answer to everything.

Edwin knowing about the attack and thinking he was responsible.

Edwin believing Charles about the wolf, with uncharacteristic certainty.

Edwin being gone random nights with strange excuses that didn’t quite add up.

Edwin giving Charles a cryptic message about being careful.

Edwin warning Charles against going into the woods around St. Hilarion.

Edwin seemingly very interested in the supernatural and saying the book was “grounded in reality.”

Edwin knowing by heart when the next full moon was.

…which was in two days.

Charles left their room as quickly as he entered.

Chapter Text

The days after Charles’s incident were very hazy, all told. Edwin could not say he remembered much. He tried to stay out of their room as much as possible. Tried to make himself a ghost to Charles. The distance, Edwin reasoned, would help minimize any damage he had caused or could cause. It would allow Charles to move on from him. He reasoned it would be better this way.

He was already accustomed to waking before Charles and falling asleep after him—partially due to the terrors that plagued him each night and partially due to the preparations needed for the next full moon. Now, Edwin merely… increased those increments on either end, rising even earlier and going to sleep even later. He was probably only sleeping around three hours each night if he was pressed to give a number. What little sleep he had was racked with a new kind of nightmare; Ones about the wolf hurting Charles or, worse still, killing him. With what little waking moments Edwin had in their room, he silently laid in bed, paralyzed with a mixture of worry, fear, and shame.

He would otherwise stay hidden within the campus library if he was not in classes, trying to lose track of the daylight hours within the towering stacks of books. He knew Charles’s schedule quite well at this point, so it was easy to circumvent running into him when traversing campus.

It was after the third day… or fourth actually… of existing like this where Edwin’s tenuous grip on his emotions shattered.

During a lecture of all things.

Normally, it was easy to erase himself in academia. To merely become a vessel to learn and to analyze things outside of “Edwin.” To put everything away in a box in service to some higher purpose.

However, he neglected to account for the problem of being able to relate too closely to the material. They were discussing The Bell Jar, Catcher in the Rye, Le Petit Prince… everything harping on this overwhelming sense of loneliness with a protagonist; loneliness that Edwin realized he would have to contend with once more.

He had always been alone before, but he thought—or at the very least deluded himself—into finding peace within it. That he was fine and would be perfectly fine with only himself as company. That it was better to not be seen at all than it was to be misunderstood or miscategorized by others.

But then he met Charles. Now being alone felt more suffocating than comforting.

His heartbeat accelerated. His breathing shallowed. His vision was unable to properly focus. He had the overwhelming desire to run, run, but he was frozen in his seat. He endured the lecture but retained none of it.

Even when dismissed, Edwin couldn’t seem to leave fast enough. He didn’t have a direction in mind, had no cognizance of any impropriety he may have been committing by sprinting blindly away in front of droves of his fellow students.

He came to a stop abruptly at the edge of the forest near the lecture hall. Once a place of refuge, somewhere to safely hide this monstrous part of himself, the forest now seemed foreign—more foe than friend.

Edwin sunk to the ground. He was utterly unmoored. He had only felt this way once before, when he thought the wolf was going to dominate his very being. And even then, he only tethered himself back to reality by sheer dumb luck. There was not quite the same hope for this time. Edwin lost himself within the feeling and the numbness it could afford him.

He sat curled up on the grass, staring into dead air for an indeterminant amount of time, before a perfect dandelion was held in front of his face.

“You look like you could use this,” the dandelion spoke softly.

Wait.

No, that could not be right. Edwin’s sight focused and found the source of the voice and the dandelion. A lovely girl, a student Edwin’s age approximately, with a near otherworldly head of white hair and a small, hopeful smile. Perhaps his initial assessment of the dandelion speaking was not entirely incorrect.

Edwin realized he had not responded to her gesture, merely staring at the flower and its benefactor in some half-awed stupor. He reached out to delicately take the stem of the pristine blowball.

“Thank you” Edwin’s eyes oscillated between the flower and the woman. “What,” he cleared his throat and continued, “What is its intended purpose? Aside from being a piece of flora, that is.”

She smiled at his question, a more earnest grin than her initial expression. At the perceived invitation, she lowered herself from a crouch to be sitting across from him. A direct mirror to Edwin’s posture: knees tucked against chest staring at their counterpart.

In a soft tone, she explained, “My dad used to say that if you needed a little extra courage, a dandelion in your pocket would do the trick.” She paused, “And you looked very sad. Like you could use some courage.”

“Perhaps I could.” Edwin lightly turned the stem between two fingers, carefully examining its movement. “Do you… often go looking for dandelions yourself?”

“Since coming to school here.”

“So, you can attest to their efficacy, I suppose?”  

“I’d like to think they work,” she answered, wistfully, “At the very least, I’d like to think they help me stay closer to my dad.”

He stilled his twirling, looking at his conversational partner directly. He could hear an all-to-familiar undercurrent of heartbreak to her voice. “My condolences.”

Part of her mouth crooked up in a sad smile, an acknowledgement of Edwin’s platitude. “My mom wanted me to come here. To St. Hilarion’s. To England. Far away from the sadness,” She looked away from Edwin, her eyes growing teary, “But the sadness came too.”

Edwin held out the dandelion for her. “Seems like we could both use the additional courage, then.” She accepted the flower back, gently plucking it from his fingers.

“We can share it,” she settled on. They both gazed at the dandelion within her fingers. An errant gust blowing away some of the seeds of the once perfect ball.

“Forgive me my dreadful manners. I neglected to ask for your name,” Edwin said, after a beat of silence. “My name is Edwin. Edwin Payne.”

“Oh, I know,” she answered, “We share the comparative literature module together.” Her mouth quirked up with a hint of mischief, the understanding that she knew more than she initially let on. “I’m Niko.”

“Seems I owe you yet another apology then,” Edwin huffed with some self-deprecation.

“It’s not your fault. I don’t participate much in class,” Niko hummed, “Or… outside of class for that matter. I’ve been a bit of a shut-in since moving here. It’s been… very lonely.”

“I can relate to that feeling,” Edwin swallowed a lump in his throat, “All too well, in fact. It had subsided, for quite a while… but I find myself facing that feeling once again.”

Niko turned her soft gaze to Edwin’s face, “So what’s got you so sad, Edwin?”

And so, he told her. At least, he told Niko an abridged version—no mention of specific names or places or dates. Certainly, no mention of the beast that lived inside of him. And Niko just… listened.

Niko, with her gentle words, understanding eyes, and seemingly unending kindness, seemed to utterly charm Edwin. He couldn’t not hold out his battered heart to her, unconcerned of what she might do to it.

It was almost like how he felt with Charles in a way. They both had this uncanny ability to slip past whatever defenses Edwin tried to construct in order to protect himself.

Like with Charles, it terrified him.

When he felt that he could come to grips with himself—when he could remember why he couldn’t become close to someone as good as Niko—he jolted up unceremoniously. His story more or less concluded.

“I…” Edwin started to feel panic rise within him, “I am terribly sorry.” Niko’s face looked puzzled as she quickly moved to stand up. “I would have sincerely loved to be friends with you further but—”

“What’s wrong?”

“Me. I’m afraid,” Edwin took a step back. “You have heard my story. What I have done. It’s plainly obvious that this… this friendship”—he motioned between the two of them frantically—“would simply lead to ruin. I would… very much not like to hurt you as well.”

Niko face looked pensive, “Don’t I get a say?”

Somehow that caught Edwin off guard. “What?”

She took a step forward, towards Edwin, “I mean… shouldn’t I be allowed to decide if I want to take that risk?”

“But why would you?” he asserted, incredulously, “I have given you ample reason to the contrary.”

“Good point,” Niko tapped a finger against her lip, “But you’ve also been nothing but nice to me.”

“Trust me, Niko. Any perceived benefit of this friendship with me is… not worth it.”

She took another step forward. “I don’t think that’s true, Edwin.” She enveloped both of her hands around one of Edwin’s, sliding the now well-worn dandelion back into his hand. “I think you just need some courage.”

Her hands were as warm as her smile. Edwin could not bring himself to rebuke her when faced with its radiance.

“I have to head home, but… I’ll see you tomorrow in tutorial?” Edwin nodded meekly, truthfully unable to do much of anything else. Niko seemed happy with that response, nodding in kind, albeit considerably more energetically. “I’ll save you a seat.”

Before Edwin knew it, Niko was gone. For a moment, he could not even be sure that the previous interaction even occurred, or if his levels of sleep deprivation had caused him to hallucinate it all.

But in his hand, the almost impossible dandelion still remained; a tangible reminder of Niko and the realness of what just happened. There were too many emotions Edwin was ill equipped to handle swirling around in his brain; his mind a mess of wanting to desperately have friendship but knowing he would be doomed to destroy anything he cared about.

Edwin should have been paying attention to where he was going, though. What time it was.

He chided himself on his stupidity as realized where he had wandered to amidst the chaos of his own introspection. He was back in his room—his heart subconsciously leading him back to some source of comfort, where he didn’t have to feel this much.

Really, he was slipping up. A failure to even keep to his own plan. Perhaps fortune was on his side and Charles was away for the moment.

“Oh. I didn’t think—” The words automatic as he spotted Charles on his bed. Of course, Edwin would not be so lucky. But any further sentiment had died on his tongue as he saw the pure pain on Charles’s face.

“Charles,” Edwin nearly breathed out, “Have you been… have you been crying?”

Chapter Text

Edwin thought he had researched enough about his affliction that he no longer had the capacity to be surprised. That the wolf that resided beneath the surface could only cause pain, driven by an animalistic instinct to hunt. To kill.

Oh, how wrong he was.

Or rather, how he underestimated the ability for humans to be equally as cruel and painful.  Charles talked about what happened that night; helping Crystal with an abusive ex, missing the bus and walking up the hill to campus, being ambushed by David and those thugs who so callously assisted him. How anyone could think to do something so hurtful to someone so genuinely good as Charles, Edwin couldn’t imagine.

Except he could, could he not? While he may not have been the one to attack Charles—to hurt him physically—Edwin certainly seemed to have done enough damage to him emotionally. And from experience, he knew that type to be far, far worse.

Edwin vowed to remedy this grievance if it was the last thing he did.

And then Charles mentioned the wolf.

Edwin felt his heart drop to his feet. As if the emotions swirling around inside him were not enough, Charles dropped what could only be considered a tidal wave of new feelings.

That the wolf—his bitter combatant for years—had helped Charles that night. Not only that, but that Charles firmly believes that it saved his life.

Edwin idly wondered if this whirlpool would drown him.

He might have preferred it.

His hands started shaking.

And how could he lie? Try to dissuade Charles of what was in fact the truth of the matter. Especially as his beast seemed to be kinder to Charles than Edwin himself was.

It would only cause Charles more pain and Edwin wasn’t in the business of breaking his vow only moments after setting it. Though his inability to respond to Charles also seemed to make him distressed.

‘Get a grip, Payne,’ his mind admonished him. The voice saying it sounded like his father or his classmates in secondary school.

But it was warranted. Edwin had muddled through worse, and he will be damned if he couldn’t do it now for the person he loves most in the world—which that sort of revelation needed to be buried for the time being.  

Edwin needed to provide comfort and support to Charles. Unfortunately, his experience with that sort of love and affection was almost non-existent; his family, when they were actually present in Edwin’s life, would be considered “hands off” to be generous. In fact, Charles may have hugged Edwin more than anyone in the entirety of his life had combined. Now if that didn’t just sound incredibly pathetic.

He tried to ignore those feelings as well.

The only advantage Edwin had on his side was that he knew Charles quite well by this point. Thusly, he knew that Charles was, to be frank, terrible at looking out for his physical wellbeing. His typical treatment plan for anything was to wait it out, as if an ailment could be outwilled—though if it could, Edwin would bet several quid on Charles being able to do such.

Edwin started with the more tangible needs, something he was more equipped to handle. He compiled a list and executed on it, playing to his strengths. The walk to and from the chemist also allowed for Edwin to take a breath. To come up for air after struggling not to drown in the well of his emotions.

He wanted to tell Charles. About the wolf. About his true nature. But the damned words refused to come out when he tried. Despite what seemed to be a good deed done by a monster, Edwin was still terrified of this other side of himself. Terrified of how he would be perceived by Charles. Anecdotal and empirical evidence would point to the whole happenstance being a fluke, a statistical anomaly of sorts. That being said, further investigation felt warranted given this new possibility. Edwin had plateaued when it came to his research, being content with his current operating procedure and simply wanting to spend his free time with Charles, not with his nose stuck in some medieval text searching for an answer that didn’t want to be found. This accident proved he should renew his search efforts once more.

This meant he needed to gain access to Professor Finch’s library. If there was a solution to his affliction, it would have to be in one of the books within. The only difficulty was that she was notoriously secretive about her collection, allowing only a select few the ability to browse and borrow any of them.

After his trip to the chemist, Edwin stayed with Charles in their room for the rest of the day. They watched movies, but Edwin could not fully engage with the story. Instead, he was preoccupied on how to accomplish infiltrating Professor Finch’s collection in an expeditious timeline. It was easier to sink into that scheming than to broach the emotions that thoroughly battered him all day.

Knowing the full details of the attack on Charles, however, put Edwin at a level of unease. David’s whereabouts seemed to be unknown. Charles himself unsure of what happened to the bastard after he was given an impromptu dip in a freezing lake.

With that unknown, there was the lingering possibility that he would return. Edwin would make sure that would not happen.

“Niko,” Edwin brought up as they started to pack up from their tutorial section. She had indeed saved a seat next to her for Edwin, as promised the prior day, so they had already been chatting in quiet moments during class. “How would you feel about studying together sometime?”

“Oh?” A curious smile sprouting on her face. “With me? Of course! When?”

He grinned. “If you are amenable… how about right now?” He tried to offer it up nonchalantly, like this was a spur of the moment thought. “I found your insights on the passage today to be remarkably profound. We could… discuss the upcoming paper, perhaps?”

Despite the minor deceit, the praise was indeed genuine. Niko had a nuanced way of looking at any situation—now that she seemed comfortable to voice her opinion—and Edwin was intrigued about the prospect of learning more about her.

Niko looked around herself, like she was still expecting Edwin to be talking about someone else. “Uh.. y-yeah, that sounds great! Should we go to the library or—”

“How do you feel about coffee?”

As they walked to the Cut & Brew, Niko started asking Edwin a myriad of questions about himself. Truly the mark of a great academic, he thought. Conversing with Niko over the past days felt like watching a flower go from budding to blooming in real time. He quietly marveled at the colors she contained.

Do you have any siblings? No, he was an only child (and a begrudgingly had child at that).

Have you ever had any pets­­? He had wanted a dog in his youth, but his mother raised a fuss about the prospect of mess (even though she was often not around enough and had plenty of staff to clean the house to her exacting standards—though he omitted that tidbit).

What’s your favorite color? Blue, but he was becoming increasingly partial to maroon for some reason.

What do you want to do after university? He didn’t quite know.

Why? He couldn’t answer… or at least answer truthfully. There appeared to be a part of him—a significant part upon reflection—that didn’t think he would survive past University. That he was merely waiting for the other shoe to drop, as it were.

Niko seemed to pick up something from the look on his face or the tone of his voice. She stopped trying to follow that line of inquisition, instead questioning Edwin about his thoughts on various popular media (a subject he was woefully unprepared for, so Niko mostly talked about her favorite shows).

As they found a table at the Cut & Brew, Edwin could see Charles’s expression turn from one of concealed frustration to surprised glee. His smile going from one that felt too sugary sweet to something softer, more genuine. Edwin’s treasonous heart fluttered at how brightly Charles seemed to shine at seeing him, but he tamped those feelings down once more. He wanted to be there for Charles as a friend first and foremost, not try to play into some lovesick fantasy he harbored; He had hurt Charles enough being the former. Edwin could hardly imagine what damage he would do as a romantic interest.

It didn’t help that Charles made his way over to their table, setting down Edwin’s favorite drink without asking.

It didn’t help that Charles winked at him when he denied letting Edwin pay, in that sly and flirtatious way he seemed to charm everyone.

It did help, however, when Charles posed a frankly ridiculous question, “So, is this the lucky lady you took on a date the other week?”

It was so off the mark that Edwin had to stop from outright laughing in his friend’s face. I mean, he had not been forthcoming to Charles about his preferences, not that he currently had much of a romantic life to speak of. But really, if his bullies during secondary school could gleam his orientation from his disposition… surely Charles should have clocked it by now, right?

Edwin had little chance to offer a rebuttal to Charles’s question before Niko excitedly did so herself, “Oh! Edwin! Did you end up telling that boy that you liked them?!” 

Chapter Text

There was the slightest bit of Edwin that regretted spilling that particular aspect of his heart out to Niko. He had at least some foresight to keep Charles’s name out of his heartbroken ramblings yesterday. Just that there was a boy he liked very much and that he had hurt said boy. That keeping away from the boy hurt his heart quite spectacularly. That the boy most likely didn’t return his affections even if he had not hurt the boy. (Niko had asked if Edwin had told the boy that he liked liked him. Edwin said no.)

Unfortunately, his brain and his heart were not operating in sync. While Niko never uttered Charles’s name, nor seemed to suspect Edwin was referring to him back then, it felt as if she took out a large permanent marker and wrote the words “EDWIN LOVES CHARLES” on his forehead.

His heart pounded against his chest. His face flushed with a crimson version of embarrassment. He felt his throat constrict. It all reminded him of a time Edwin wished to forget.

He wanted the ground to swallow him whole.

Edwin tried his level best to excuse himself from the conversation, though he doubted he was as elegant as he was aiming to be. He just needed air. He needed to be alone, to gather his thoughts. To not think of the night when too many things went wrong.

After Edwin felt the cool air from the outside, he dashed around the corner to the nearby alleyway to hide while he metaphorically licked his wounds. He tried to steady his breathing, but felt like he might faint just standing there. He needed something solid to ground himself with. Bracing against the brick of the café’s exterior, he focused on the feeling of material against his fingers. The sounds of the cars periodically petering by. The vaguely rancid smell of rubbish.

Breathe in for 6. Hold for 6. Breathe out for 6. Breathe in for 6—

“Are you okay?” A voice asked, equal parts concerned and wary. He chanced a side glance.

“You’re Crystal,” he said, his chest heaving from the aborted attempt to regulate himself, “Are you not?” He made no further effort to move or otherwise engage.

“Uh… yeah,” Crystal answered, “So… you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Edwin gritted out, staring at the muck of the pavement beneath him.

“Yeah, because having a panic attack in an alleyway screams well-adjusted,” she quipped, taking a hit from her vape. A cloud escaping from her lips as she exhaled.

“I am better than whatever lung cancer you are sure to develop with that habit.” He couldn’t tell you what made him lash out.

“Fuck you. All I was doing was try to help—”

“I didn’t ask for your help,” he snapped his head towards her in a sneer. “I think you’ve done quite enough as it is.”

They stared at each other, tension sizzling between them.

“I don’t know what the fuck you are talking about, dude.” Her tone suggested otherwise. Edwin wanted blood.

He stood to his full height, pivoting to face her head on. “I think we both know what I’m talking about.”

She frowned. “You’re Charles’s roommate.”

“Edwin Payne,” he supplied, his ingrained manners superseding the conversational topic and adversarial tone. He faintly had to stop himself from trying to shake her hand.

“Didn’t ask. Don’t care.” Crystal wasn’t going to back down, stepping towards him. Perhaps she wanted a fight as much as he did. Some form of mutual self-punishment.

“How shocking,” Edwin’s voice dripping with a vicious sarcasm. “What do you care about then? Taking advantage of your friends and then ditching them the moment things get tough?”

Another step forward. “Where were you then, huh?” Crystal’s voice rising, “At the clinic. Waiting for Charles to wake up.” Edwin slightly flinched before quickly putting back on his façade of indifference. It was too late, however.

 “Oh wait,” she said, sickly sweet yet obviously mocking, “You weren’t there.”

“I—” Edwin stammered.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Crystal scoffed at Edwin’s lack of comeback, “So how about you come down from that posh purebred high horse you rode in on.”

Another step forward. “It was a mistake,” Edwin hissed out, “One that I am trying to remedy.”

“And so am I. By staying the fuck away from him.” Crystal’s movements were sharp and widespread. Her vape pen nearly crushed in her fist.

“I suppose I thought too highly of you,” he simply replied, “Thinking you could succeed where I failed.”

“Well join the fucking club,” she spat out, voice breaking in the midst of her comment. Crystal wrapped her arms around herself, her eyes starting to tear up. She tried to fight any of them falling, though it was a fruitless effort.

A silence passed between the two of them. The fight in both of them a flash in the pan; their anger dissipating as quickly as it started.  

Edwin’s hand flexed at his side, wanting to provide some sort of comfort to Crystal, but unsure how. “Charles cares about you a great deal.” He settled on, voice turning gentle, “You should know that, Crystal.”

Her eyes continued to bore into him. Then something flashed in her eyes, perhaps a reflection of light against her teary eyes. An expression of realization followed. “You’re the one who called Jenny.” It was both a statement and a question.

Edwin simply nodded in response. Crystal wiped at her eyes.

“Why weren’t you there then?” she asked, this time with a want to understand than to use as a weapon.

A sad huff of a laugh escaped Edwin, “I thought, incorrectly, that I was the cause of his attack. I too believed he would be better without me,” He paused, “But I didn’t want him to be alone, so I called you.”

“….and then I left him alone.”

“We have both made errors.”

“Yeah…” Crystal trailed off.

He turned his gaze downward. “I am afraid we have done more harm than good in trying to stay away.”

Crystal’s lips pressed together into a thin line. “It will be better for Charles in the long run,” she said, her voice lacking any conviction. Like she was trying to convince herself of the thought’s validity.

Edwin sighed at Crystal’s stubbornness.

“My friend Niko once told me,” He tried again, the irony of what he was about to tell Crystal not lost on him, “That no one person should dictate what is the best for a friendship. You owe it to Charles to let him decide if you are worth whatever risk you perceive by continuing your relationship. Not to simply push him away without any discussion.”

One corner of Crystal’s mouth ticked up. “Sounds like a good friend.”

“Far better than I deserve,” Edwin chuckled out, leaning his back against the brick wall. He combs a hand through his hair, too tired to try to keep it meticulous. “But she deems me worth the hassle, I suppose.”

“Charles does too,” Crystal offered, “from what I can see.”

“Charles is also far better than I deserve,” Edwin wistfully responded. Realizing he let his heart eek out once more—You are such an idiot, Edwin—he snapped to attention.

“A-as a friend, of course,” he stammered out.

Crystal looked at him in vague disbelief. “Of course.” She scanned him up and down once more. Edwin wanted to shiver at the scrutiny.

“I guess… we’ll just both try our best not to fuck things up,” Crystal settled on. “For them.”

“For them,” Edwin echoed.

“I uh… I gotta head back in,” Crystal nodded to the back door. “I’ll see you around, Edwin.” Edwin nodded in goodbye as he saw Crystal disappear back into the café.

Edwin let out a long breath. It was overwhelming, to say the least, to be faced with one’s own mistakes reflected back at him. Especially when packaged in someone as fiery as Crystal. Someone who could actually be with Charles in a way Edwin could not.

He clenched and released his fists several times.

He was tired of everything being so overwhelming and complicated. He wanted answers.

Breathe in for 6. Hold for 6. Breathe out for 6. Breathe in for 6. Hold for 6. Breathe out for 6…

Edwin walked back inside the Cut & Brew.

Chapter Text

Thomas Lyttel proved to be Edwin’s ticket into Professor Finch’s collection. A long-time graduate student of hers, Thomas was a PhD candidate and almost singlehandedly taught the ‘Language in Context: Social and Cultural Dimensions’ module Edwin was enrolled in; apparently Professor Finch only came in to teach the bare minimum that she could get away with without provoking the administration’s ire.

And Edwin wasn’t daft. He noticed how Thomas seemed to call on him at a significantly higher frequency than his peers. Gave him a decerning yet appreciative look at any answer given, like he was examining Edwin under a microscope. Thomas would even occasionally pull him aside to ask if he wanted to conduct any further “discussion” at The Cannery, a pub he often patronized.

Thomas initially phrased this meeting as a casual group round table of sorts, but when Edwin showed up—intrigued at what his fellow classmates may have had to offer—he was the only other one in attendance. Nevertheless, Edwin remained cordial and at a respectable distance, much to Thomas’s annoyance; he kept finding excuses to move closer to Edwin, to which Edwin would find excuses to move away the same distance. He realized only upon retrospect that Thomas may have purposefully misled him to the nature of their meeting in order to have time alone with him.

All told, Thomas was harmless. A flirt, indeed. Threading the line of professionalism and inappropriate conduct in a collegiate setting, perhaps. But he never took it any further than inviting Edwin out to a public setting and giving Edwin more attention than he would any other student. Thomas never forced himself on him nor made crude comments. Edwin suspected that if he actually voiced any discomfort, Thomas would appropriately back off.

Thus, Edwin resolved to not make a fuss about it. An attractive boy was interested in him; he was vaguely flattered at the notion. If he had any inclination to do so, he would even be tempted to entertain Thomas’s particular brand of game. Outside of the context of him effectively being Edwin’s professor, of course.

Though as the necessity for access to Finch’s collection became ever more apparent, Edwin understood that Thomas was his best choice for an expeditious entrance. Which likely meant needing to play along with his game, whatever that fully entailed.

A couple of days after his reconciliation with Charles, Edwin approached Thomas after class, waiting until the other students had all left the room.

“Ahh… Edwin,” Thomas about purred out, “To what do I owe this little tête-à-tête?”

“I was wondering if you would perhaps be interested in a rendezvous at that pub you so enjoy. The Cannery, if I recall correctly?” Edwin tried to come off as casual, even a little nervous, as to not hint at the true nature of his invitation.

A cheeky grin spread across Thomas’s face. “Oh?” He leaned forward onto his lecture podium, setting down an elbow to prop up his head on his hand. “You haven’t wanted to have a chat outside of class in some time. Why now?”

“As the term is coming to a close, and you will no longer be my instructor,” Edwin explained, “it would now be appropriate for us to interact outside the confines of coursework.” He shrugged, “It appeared to me that you were interested in more of a… friendship…  between us, if I am not mistaken.”

“How chivalrous of you,” Thomas remarked, emphasizing the word “chivalrous” in such a way that bordered on sarcasm. His eyes roamed up and down Edwin.

Thomas leaned in closer, narrowing his eyes. “Why don’t you cut the bullshit and tell me what you actually want, huh?”

“Uh,” Edwin was a bit shell-shocked, especially with the sudden closeness and the accompanying gravelly tinge to his voice.

“Come on, Edwin. I don’t bite,” Thomas chuckled out, a stark contrast to his earlier tone.

Edwin sighed, his unimpressive gambit an utter failure. “I need a book. From Professor Finch’s collection.”

“See,” Thomas backed away, standing normally once more, “wasn’t that a whole lot easier?”

Edwin closed his eyes for a tick, exhaling out of his nose. “That depends. Will you help me?”

Thomas hummed. “Only if I get something in return.”

“And what is it you want?” Edwin sharply enunciated.

“I’m sure we could figure out something…” Thomas was toying with him again, drawing circles on his podium with his pointer finger.

Edwin frowned. “Just tell me what you want, Thomas, or I am just going to find another way.”

“Oh, come on, Edwin,” Thomas replied, calling his bluff, “we both know I am your best shot at getting access to that library in this decade.”

He was right… unfortunately. Finch’s other graduate students rarely ever showed their faces around campus and, the few times Edwin did manage to grab a glimpse of one, they looked nearly haunted—severe, tired, and serious. She must be working them to the bone. It was a wonder that Thomas was as cheery and laid back as he seemed.

At Edwin’s lack of response and equal lack of storming out of the building, Thomas smiled. “How about this… I get you your mysterious book, and any other book you might want to borrow, but you owe me a favor. To be redeemed at my discretion. At some undisclosed point in the future. And no vetoes or take backs or trying to scheme your way out of doing it.” He wiggled his fingers at the mention of scheming which, if Edwin’s inability just moments earlier was any indication, wasn’t an issue to begin with.

Edwin paused, caught between a metaphorical rock and a hard place. “Just one favor?”

“Just. One. Favor.” Thomas further emphasized the singularity of it by holding up his index finger, wagging it back and forth.

“Fine,” Edwin reluctantly agreed through gritted teeth.

“Good boy,” Thomas bopped Edwin’s nose with his already extended finger. Edwin grimaced once more in resignation. “Now tell Professor Lyttel about this book you want…”

The book in question was called Fabulae Formarum: De Hominum Transformatione or Myths of Forms: On the Transformation of Humans. If rumor and Edwin’s own research was correct, there were only three known copies of the text in existence. One was owned by a Wiccan collector in the States and burned along with the rest of her possessions in a house fire started by some teenaged punks. The second was last seen in the collection of a high-ranking Cardinal in the Vatican City but, knowing the historically combative nature of organized religion and anything supernatural, Edwin didn’t have hope of its continued existence or his ability to access it. The last copy, believed to be in near pristine condition, was in the collection of Professor Finch at St. Hilarion University.

Despite the extremely limited quantity of hard copies, there was much to say about the contents therein. Many auxiliary publications around Lycanthropy or anything remotely similar to Edwin’s affliction seemed to contain a reference to a reference to yet another reference to Fabulae Formarum. The information inside the work seemed to have spread far and wide. However, as secondhand accounts turned into fourth and fifth-hand accounts, the factuality of any information purported to be in Fabulae Formarum started to become contradictory and muddled; an inevitability when playing a game of telephone across multiple generations.

But now Edwin had the chance to see this veritable bible of shapeshifting information up close and personal.  

It took Thomas about three weeks to be able to borrow it from Finch’s collection. Edwin tried to not appear desperate nor impatient with him, though it was hard to contain his curiosity when he was so close to the book.

Thomas texted to meet him for an exchange some Thursday in late Autumn—Edwin begrudgingly gave him his number which, unfortunately, wasn’t the favor Thomas had in mind.

“You are late,” Edwin commented as Thomas sauntered up to him.

“I like to think I’m… fashionably late,” he smirked.

“You had me waiting for almost an hour,” Edwin further complained, not letting Thomas try to skirt by his irritation. “I do have other things I need to attend to.”

“Yet here you are,” Thomas leaned forward, placing one of his hands on the wall tantalizingly close to Edwin’s body. He could about feel the tip of Thomas’s thumb grazing the skin where his jaw met his neck. Edwin schooled his face into one of aloofness.

“And I shall have you to blame for my abysmal grade on my essay regarding ‘Multilingualism in Society’ that’s due tomorrow,” He remarked dryly, trying his level best to not to let the proximity unsettle him like it had during his initial deal. Perhaps he needed to reevaluate his stance on Thomas adhering to boundaries.

He laughed, “You’ve definitely had that assignment done for days now. But I admire the spunk.”

Edwin cleared his throat, “Onto the matter at hand. The book?”

“I’ve got it, don’t worry your posh little head. But I have a question first.”

“You tend to have many of those,” Edwin grumbled.

“It’s not my fault you are so… oddly fascinating.”

Edwin sighed. “What do you wish to know?”

“What are you hoping to find in the Fabulae Formarum? Anything in particular?” Thomas’s gaze snapped quickly up and down Edwin. “I could just help you skip all this reading nonsense and just give you the SparkNotes of what you want to know.”

Edwin could feel his heartbeat quicken but he maintained his composure. “Are you redeeming your favor to know the answer to that?”

Thomas didn’t answer right away, humming. Then he leaned close to Edwin’s ear, whispering, “Now that would be too boring. I could always just give you some lovely silver bracelet to wear instead. Might get my answer that way and have you thinking about me. Two birds and all that, right?”

Fuck. Edwin couldn’t quite keep his cool at that remark. He felt his body immediately tense up in unconscious fear. His lips forcefully pressed shut to not reveal anything damning. Edwin hoped that Thomas was merely playing with him or just wildly speculating to get a reaction. (He was not the first person aiming to get a rise out of Edwin, and he would not be the last.)

“If you are not using your favor, you are not entitled to my thoughts,” Edwin replied sharply, every word feeling like it took a concerted effort to say. “The book, if you please, Thomas.”

Thomas leaned back away suddenly, a slight frown at Edwin’s lack of indulging his whims. Edwin was no longer vaguely caged in by his arm, which allowed him to relax a tick. However, his ease was momentary as a heavy object was not-so-gently shoved against his chest. The Fabulae Formarum. He quickly fumbled to keep the book from falling to the ground after Thomas released it.

For god’s sake, this is a rare and old book! It should be treated with respect, Thomas! Edwin thought, exasperated. He still found it too tumultuous to attempt to say this comment aloud, given how difficult his prior demand was.

“Don’t worry, Edwin. I plan on taking full advantage of that favor. And I’m patient.” Thomas smiled but… unlike some of his more playful ones, this one had an ominous undertone. Their transaction accomplished, Thomas pivoted away and left without any further comment.

Edwin maneuvered the book to stare at it. His knuckles were almost white with how tightly he was holding on to it. Like it might disappear. He could feel his hands trembling slightly.

Edwin had it, finally. Though he feared what the cost for it would be.

Chapter Text

Charles didn’t know where he was heading when he rushed out of the residence hall. He initially thought he was just craving some fresh air and movement, but his legs had more specific plans. It was only when he was staring at Niko and Edwin from afar did he realize he had trekked to the campus library. The duo had effectively annexed a table all to themselves—a hard feat to accomplish during assessments week. The tabletop was littered with various books all opened to different sections. Despite reading usually being a more relaxing pastime, Niko and Edwin stood hunched over the books, looking like they were ready to run around the table at a moment's notice to get to a paragraph they needed. Only those two would make this paper a full contact sport. Or perhaps an intricate dance was a more accurate metaphor for the two of them.

Charles felt himself grinning. And then he abruptly understood why he was grinning.

“What the bloody hell are you doing, Rowland?” He angrily whispered to himself, rushing into the nearest WC before either of them caught a glimpse of Charles.

He went to the sinks, immediately turning on the faucet. He hoped some water splashed on his face would shock some sense into him. He focused on the noise the tap made as water rushed out.

Was he really about to confront his best mate about being a werewolf?

At the campus library of all places?

He gripped the sides of the shabby porcelain basin and stared at his reflection. Charles certainly didn’t look like he was that sleep deprived. The dark circles under his eyes didn’t appear to be anything particularly egregious. He didn’t even feel tired. On the contrary, all the flurry of activity and the pounding of his heart made him feel positively wired.

Charles also didn’t feel like he was going mad or anything. Despite his brain feeling a right mess with everything, his hunch about Edwin made all of the things he had experienced over the past months make perfect sense. While his gut may be impulsive, it was usually never wrong.

He rubbed a hand across his face. Even if it was the truth, he doubted Edwin’s reaction would be any sort of positive one.

“What did I think was gonna happen?” He groaned, pushing himself away from the sink. He started pacing, thankful that the loo was empty for his meltdown.

“I was just gonna go up to Edwin and go”—he adopted an overly exaggerated version of his voice—"‘Hey mate, think you might be a werewolf? Like fangs, full moon, the whole she-bang werewolf. Crazy, yeah?’ and then he would just go”—now putting on an imitation of Edwin’s voice—“‘Oh Charles, I should have known better than to underestimate your keen intellect. I am, in truth, a werewolf and, not only that, but I am also the wolf that saved your life a month ago.’”

He threw his arms up, “And then what!? I just go on living with a half man, half wolf best friend? Play fetch with him during full moons?” He paused, lowering his arms, “Or is that offensive to werewolves…”

Charles knew he would also be a proper arse to throw this all on Edwin during an already stressful week. Hell, Charles had an exam in less than 12 hours that he had hardly prepared for. Instead, he had been chasing around what Edwin had been up to, as if it was even his right to know.

Perhaps he just needed a night of sleep. Clear his head or something like that.

He stopped pacing, sighing, “Hit the showers, Rowland.”

He left the WC. As much as he wanted to rush in headfirst, to demand some sort of satisfaction for his curiosity, he had to approach this carefully. Else it might blow up in his face.

“Charles?!”

…He forgot that he could be easily spotted by Edwin and Niko.

“It is you!” Niko, who had now gotten closer to Charles, exclaimed. She was shushed by some nearby students. “Oops. Sorry!” She apologized in a hushed voice.

Edwin was still at their table, looking at Niko and Charles quizzically.

“H-heyyyy, Niko,” Charles plastered on a good-natured smile after she caught him off-guard, hiding his internal torrent of cursing at being so gracelessly caught.

“What are you doing here?” Niko asked, her volume now a very loud whisper. She quickly crushed him in a hug. He hugged back (he might have been freaking out, but he wasn’t a monster). Pulling back, Niko continued, “Edwin said you had an exam early tomorrow.”

“I-I do! So, I should really—”

“You should say hi to Edwin while you’re here!” Before Charles could really get a word in edgewise, Niko grabbed Charles’s hand and dragged him to their table.

“Look who I found, Edwin,” Niko said as they reached their table.

“Keen eye, Niko,” Edwin remarked, bemused. He then turned his attention to Charles. “It’s not often you visit the library here.”

“Pshh. Love me a good book, mate.” Charles stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets.

Edwin raised an eyebrow. “Quite. Though I do believe you have referred to this building multiple times as ‘dusty, stuffy, and proper boring,’ if I am not mistaken.” He used exaggerated air quotes to further his point.

“Oi. Just because I like to study in a place where I can actually, y’know, move about and breathe doesn’t mean I never go to the library, yeah?”

Edwin and Charles smirked at each other, pausing the conversation as each of them tried to get a read on the other.

“So… what are you here for then?” Niko prompted at the lull.

“What am I here for…” Charles made a clicking noise with his mouth, struggling to maintain an air of nonchalance while racking his brain for an explanation. “Well, it’s past dinner time, innit? And you know how this one gets about remembering to eat.”

He nodded his head towards Edwin, who frowned in response (which meant he definitely forgot to eat).

“Thought we could nip out for some grub,” Charles finished.

“How sweet of you, Charles!” Niko clapped her hands together. “Let’s go.”

Edwin made a move to object but paused upon seeing Niko and Charles giving him a pleading look. He sighed. “Very well. Grabbing something to eat would be for the best.” He grabbed his and Niko’s coats from where they laid over the chairs.

They headed out of the building, the air refreshing after the heat that had built up from the heaters going on overdrive in the old library.  “That was quite considerate of you, Charles. Thank you,” Edwin softly said to Charles as they walked to a nearby Fish and Chips shop that would still be open. The accompanying smile Edwin gave Charles did something weird to his heart.

“Anytime, mate. Someone’s gotta look out for you, right?” He nudged Edwin’s shoulder with his own.

This werewolf business was going to be harder to talk to Edwin about than Charles first thought.

“Are you two doing anything for the holidays?” Niko asked them as they waited for their food.

“Well, I’m stayin’ on campus over break, so I suppose it’s going to be a one-man party for me,” Charles answered, trying to smother the feelings of loneliness that entailed. And the accompanying memory of Edwin and Thomas talking that happened the last time he thought about the holidays.

“I do hope I haven’t done anything to have my invite to your party rescinded,” Edwin remarked playfully.

Charles looked at Edwin, confused, “What are you on about?”

It was Edwin’s turn to look equally befuddled. “Charles, you do realize that we are in the residence hall that we are in because it is the only one open over break to accommodate students.”

“So…”

“So… I too will be here over the winter break. I… assumed perhaps that we might celebrate the holidays together, but I apologize if that was presumptuous at all—”

“No, mate, that’s totally brills!” In his excitement, Charles hugged Edwin. Even going so far as to hoist him off the ground and spin him in a circle. Okay, maybe Charles was a bit too overzealous… but he hadn’t had the prospect of a fun Christmas in ages (probably ever if he was being honest with himself).

“Oh, sorry Edwin,” Charles quickly apologized, letting his embrace go. “Got a bit carried away there, didn’t I?”

Edwin looked flustered. “It’s… it’s perfectly all right, Charles.” He straightened out his clothing, pointedly not looking in Charles’s direction.

“Uhm. What about you, Niko?” Charles asked, trying to move away from the moment.

“Ah, well I am heading back to Osaka tomorrow after my last final to spend the holidays with my mom,” Niko answered, trying to come across as cheery. But Charles could hear what she was hiding. He knew the tone of someone who was putting on a good show for something most people should enjoy, but they truly did not. Charles frowned, feeling for Niko, but decided against asking anything further.

Charles could see Edwin with the same empathetic frown out of his periphery.

Charles wondered what provoked such a response. He turned the prospect over in his head as they collectively scarfed down their food.

What was Edwin dealing with to make him stay here instead of some posh estate in the countryside with his parents?

Did it have anything to do with him being a werewolf?

Charles could feel this question still looming above him after saying goodbye to Niko and Edwin for the night.

Fuck his previous thought; This werewolf business was going to be significantly harder to talk to Edwin about than Charles first thought.  A new plan formed in Charles’s brain as he walked back to his dorm.

Charles needed to follow Edwin during the full moon.

He didn’t want to do it, surprise Edwin like that. But Charles also knew it was the only way. The only way to know for sure without Edwin being able to talk his way out of it.

Charles’s breaths billowed out in white whisps as he inhaled and exhaled more forcefully than he would normally.

His shoes crunched against residual snow on the ground, melted and refrozen to have a crackling icy consistency.

Back in their dorm, Edwin’s notebook sang like a siren song on his desk. Charles hovered his hand over the cover.

He couldn’t do it.

Sleep didn’t come easily that night.

Chapter Text

Even with the shit sleep, Charles did aces on his exam the next morning. He may have needed to drink an alarming amount of energy drinks to do so, but he did it. Take that, assessments week.

As he trudged back to his residence hall, he could feel the lull in the campus as the term came to a close and other students were off to their winter break festivities. The eerie quiet, along with his current half-awake half-asleep state, made him feel like a zombie in some end of the world type movie.

Did that mean, if werewolves were real, other folk tales and fantastical creatures were also real? Were zombies real?

Maybe that is a bit of a stretch, Charles thought, reigning in his sleep addled mind.

He about passed out as soon as he stepped into their room, only bothering to shuck his shoes off before belly flopping into his bed.

In his dreams, Charles was back in the woods. Running away from something growling behind him in the night. He thought he outran the monster, but then found himself surrounded by not one, but a whole pack of wolves. None of them were his wolf; these were smaller with black pelts and beady eyes. They made up for their lack of stature with their overwhelming quantity. The dark swarm of fur circled around him, forming a living whirlpool with himself at the center. He felt like he was drowning on solid ground. Charles clawed at his throat, feeling something drip down in rivulets where he touched.

He blinked his eyes and the wolves were gone. The liquid now absent from his neck. Instead, Edwin stood before him in the clearing in the woods. Just staring at Charles. He tried to ask a question, but the words were all garbled, like he was speaking while underwater. Edwin tilted his head in confusion and then… the wolf was there instead, head tilted in the same manner. Edwin and the wolf seemed to glitch into each other with every blink Charles took.

The world became tinted entirely in red. He looked up to the moon to see a maroon curtain dragged across its face. A blood moon.

He felt a scream rip out of his throat. Everything faded to black.

The rest was dreamless or forgotten.

Charles woke up some hours later when Edwin entered their room.

“Oh,” Edwin remarked apologetically as Charles sprang upright, “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“’s all good, mate,” he yawned, rolling his shoulders and stretching his arms out. In all honesty, that was on the tamer side of his startled waking. A glance at the window revealed that it was dark outside. Charles reckoned he must have slept the day away; daylight was shorter in the winter, so it wasn’t all that surprising of a possibility. “Should be getting up now anyway—get something to nosh on. Done with everything for the term, yeah?”

Edwin exhaled, collapsing in his desk chair, “Thankfully, yes. I’ve just come back from my last exam.” He let his head hang backwards off the top of the chair.

“Sounds like we should celebrate proper then.”

“That would require me getting out of this chair,” Edwin groaned out.

“Can’t argue with that logic,” Charles laughed out, voice still tinged with a drowsy daze, “Still proper knackered myself. Another day?”

“When I can find the wherewithal to move my neck again.”

“Why don’t I grab us some takeaway and we can just chill for tonight, yeah? We’ve gotten behind on our reading, haven’t we?”

Edwin hummed, pleased with the proposal. “That sounds lovely, Charles.”

Since he was already fully dressed, Charles just toed into his shoes and popped out to get them something. He didn’t need to even ask Edwin what he would want by now; one of them getting food for the other was such a common routine that they were aware enough of the other’s preferences.

Several empty takeaway containers later, the two of them were appropriately fed and slightly more alive. Edwin now perusing his book collection for their nightly read. Charles laid on the floor between their beds. The sounds of shuffling paper were a fitting soundtrack to their restful evening.

Or it would be restful if not for that burning question in the back of Charles’s mind.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” Charles abruptly blurted, breaking their comfortable silence. He almost didn’t realize he said it. Edwin stilled in the process of taking out a novel.

A beat.

“Of course,” Edwin replied, warmly but with a hint of trepidation. “The same offer goes to you as well, should you ever need someone to talk to.”

Charles sat up, staring at the back of his friend’s head as he continued on sorting through an already sorted collection. “I mean it, mate. Anything. No judgement or nothin’.”

Edwin turned around, staring meaningfully at Charles. “I…”

“Yeah, Edwin?” Charles felt so close to a confirmation he could almost taste it.

“I—” Edwin tried again, but his mouth snapped shut. Charles had to suppress bemoaning at his silence. “I… wish us to be friends for quite a long time.” It felt like it wasn’t what Edwin wanted to say, but all he could manage to get out.

Charles bobbed his head slightly in multiple nods, trying to hide his disappointment. “Me too, Edwin. You’re my best mate. And I told ya, you’re stuck with me now. No matter what.” Charles flashed a placating grin. Edwin grinned slightly in return, turning his attention back to the collection.

“Shall we… continue our venture into the Hardy Boys series?” Edwin offered at last, raising a volume titled What Happened at Midnight. Charles was amused by the irony.

“Let’s do it.”

The full moon was tomorrow.

Charles had a shift at the Cut & Brew the next morning. Jenny wrangling him back to work now that term was finished. He was positively buzzing the whole day with anxious energy; he tried to channel it into his job, jumping to wipe down tables as soon as they were unoccupied, running drinks and food orders to every customer (even though that was not part of their usual services), asking Jenny for supplies to clean the windows out front. Jenny seemed confused and almost annoyed but couldn’t really argue about her employee putting in the extra effort.

Crystal, on the other hand, observed Charles’s frenzy with a mixture of amusement and suspicion.

“What’s got you all hopped up, Mr. Energizer Bunny?”

Charles smirked at the reference. “I’d fancy myself more Sonic the Hedgehog, but beggars and all that.” He was currently cleaning their counter with utmost focus.

“Nice evasion there, slick,” Crystal drawled sarcastically, striding up next to Charles. She held out a hand in front of his face. “Come on, hand it over and tell me what’s up.”

Charles stopped cleaning. “It’s nothing, Crys.”

“Well, nothing is going to erode a hole into a chunk of granite and have Jenny go ape shit all over our asses.” She opened and closed her hand in a grabbing motion. “Now gimmie.”

Charles sighed and relinquished the microfiber cloth to Crystal. He swiveled to face her, leaning against the counter. “There’s something happening tonight and I’m just anxious is all, alright?”

Crystal narrowed her eyes at him, crossing her arms, “Like that’s not incredibly vague. Does this ‘event’ have anything to do with that pretty boy grad student you wanted me to spy on several days ago?”

“Thomas? No!” Charles answered exasperated.

“Ohhhh,” Crystal teased, “His name is Thomas, is it?”

Charles was starting to get annoyed. “Crystal,” he warned.

“Is it a date? Does Edwin know?” she kept going, conspiratorially.  

“Edwin? Date? What are you—” Charles groaned. “Crystal”—her face sobered up quickly—"I just—this thing tonight. It’s not really something I want to talk about just yet, okay? So can you please drop it?”

Her gaze turned sympathetic. “Fine. Okay. Just,” Crystal sighed, “be careful with…”—she waved the hand with the towel at Charles—” whatever you’re getting yourself into.”

“I’m always careful, aren’t I?”

“Charles, you are probably the least careful person I know,” Crystal answered, an eyebrow cocked up. She tossed him back the cloth, “And that includes me.”

Charles shrugged and went back to cleaning.

Edwin and Charles were lounging about their room when the sun started to set. Charles had been subtlety monitoring the sun’s position all day—so much he would give an astronomer or weatherman or astrologist a proper run for their money. Edwin was looking over that black book for nearly the entire day Charles reckoned; his roommate was at his desk diligently researching its contents it when he left for work and was hunched over it (or at least Edwin’s equivalent of hunched) when he returned several hours later.

Edwin must have been also tracking the sun, as he abruptly stood up from his desk like clockwork at 4:30 precisely. He moved to grab his coat, a slight urgency coloring his movements.

“Where you off to, mate?” Charles said, already knowing Edwin would dodge the question but asking anyway.

“I am merely going out to run an errand,” Edwin answered, “I shall be back later.”  He started to don his coat. This was Charles’s opening.

“Brills,” he launched himself out of his bed, “I could stretch my legs. I’ll join you.”

This caught Edwin off guard. He fiddled with the cuffs of his coat. “T-that’s not necessary. I can go by myself.”

“It’s all good. I like spending time you, don’t I?” Charles plastered his most dazzling grin.

Edwin continued to flounder, attempting to think his way out of the situation that Charles had knowingly put him in. He closed his eyes for a tick to calm himself. Upon opening, Edwin exhaled and a put on a pensive smile, “Of course, Charles. I too always enjoy your company.”

Charles could see how tense Edwin was getting. His fists were balled in front of him. There was part of Charles that wanted to call it all off, let Edwin go and do whatever he was going to do. Play ignorant. But a larger part of him wanted to continue down this path. Wanted Edwin to let him in.

“Right,” Charles grabbed his coat, “On we go, then.”

Charles let Edwin lead the way to this “errand” unimpeded; not questioning where they were ultimately heading to nor making any sort of small talk like they typically would do. He suspected that Edwin was trying to figure a way to ditch Charles and therefore not in a chit-chatting mood.

Despite being a few steps ahead of him, Charles could see the severe expression on Edwin’s face. As they reached a turning point in the walkway—where the forest began to grow in earnest and the road lead down to town—his friend abruptly stopped, spinning to face Charles, who had just barely stopped in time as to not topple Edwin over.

“Charles, I…”  Edwin started. A sense of déjà vu came over Charles with the number of times he had heard Edwin start a sentence this way.  “I know this may seem like an unorthodox request, but I need you to go back to our room and stay there for the night.”

“Edwin, mate, I—”

Edwin’s tone turned even more serious, “Charles, please. I will… explain… later. Just, please, do not follow me. Go home.”

And he started to walk into the forest, with speed and purpose.

“Nuh-uh. Not gonna happen,” Charles shouted, jogging to keep up with Edwin’s wicked fast walking, “You aren’t doing this to me again.”

Edwin kept going, pointedly not looking at Charles. “I do not know what you are talking about, Charles. Now please stop this foolishness and leave me be.” He was getting irritated, and, in turn, Charles was getting irritated by being brushed aside.

Somehow Edwin’s pace increased, yet he was still walking. Luckily, Charles’s time in sports let him keep up with ease.

“Mate, you’ve been trying to tell me something for weeks now, yeah?” Charles was still talking loudly in his frustration and in his need to be heard. “And you’ve done a shite job at actually telling me anything. So sorry if I don’t quite believe this ‘explaining later’ bollocks.”

Edwin eased up and came to a stop at his accusation. But he didn’t turn around.

Charles continued, “I think I know what’s going on. You’re—”

“Stop,” Edwin interrupted, voice harsher and angrier than Charles had ever heard out of him. “I… do not know what you think you know. But I assure you—”

“You’re a werewolf,” Charles said simply. The air around them seemed to... pause.

He could see Edwin just… breathing. Harshly. Shoulders moving up and down with every inhale and exhale, like he was liable to collapse at any moment.

“And what,” Edwin uttered, sounding choked up. He swallowed. “What do you intend to do with that information? Should it be true.”

He sounded so… broken. Vulnerable. Afraid.

Charles stepped towards him. “Edwin,” he grabbed Edwin’s shoulders and gently turned him to finally face Charles. “Nothing, nothing, would make me change how I feel about you, yeah?”

“…But I’m a monster, Charles.”

He opened his mouth to rebuke that notion, when Edwin violently spasmed out of Charles’s grip. His mate tumbled to the ground, scrambling into a fetal position.

“Edwin?!” He crouched, his hands hovering over Edwin’s body as he seemed to tremble in pain. “What’s going on?” He asked, but of course he knew what was happening.

“I-it’s”—Edwin gasped in pain, going from a ball to arching his back in a contrasting movement—“starting.”

“What, what can I do, mate?” Charles felt a panic creep in, an overwhelming desire to stop this pain Edwin was feeling. His mind recalled the gruesome pictures in that book. “H-How can I help?”

“Run,” Edwin growled out, his voice sounding like several. He clutched his midsection and moved to bring himself up. “Get as far f-from me as you can.” His voice sounded normal again, albeit desperate and pleading.

“I’m not leaving you, Edwin. I told you that already!” Charles grabbed his friend’s underarms to help him up. Midway up, Edwin convulsed and shoved Charles back and away from him, using that momentum to propel himself into a nearby tree. His fingertips dug into the bark, keeping him momentarily stable. Charles landed on his ass in a pile of slush and foliage.

“Charles, I…” Tremors still ripping through Edwin’s body, he panted out, “I can’t hold it off for much longer. Please, go.”

Another cry of pain and Edwin crumpled to the base of the tree. Charles crawled over to close the gap, doing the exact opposite of his friend’s pleas.

Edwin’s blue-green eyes met Charles’s. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he spoke fearfully, voice breaking.

Charles returned his fearful stare with one of unwavering certainty, voice steady, “You are not going to hurt me.” Edwin nodded slightly, like he desperately wanted to believe in Charles.

A spasm once again ripped through Edwin.

His scream choked out into a snarl.

The sound of bones breaking echoed into the night.

Charles was frozen in place as Edwin transformed.

Chapter Text

When Charles was 13, he played a pick-up game of footie with a group of friends from the neighborhood. Nothing about that was unique, but what happened in that particular match was. Back then, he fancied himself more of a defender, so he hadn’t had an up close and personal view of the incident. The aftermath, however, had been seared into his memory ever since. A bloke on his team—a friend of a friend—made a breakaway with the ball, dribbling it down the center of the dinky pitch. One of their opponents, in trying to stop the charge, did a slide tackle to get the ball. While he was successful in dislodging the ball, he also ended up partially colliding with the forward’s leg.

The trip and resulting stumble yielded a sickening crack. The play stopped. At first, someone on the opposing team jeered at him to “stop being a pussy and get up.” But as the forward stayed curled up on the ground, making no attempt to stand up and keep playing, all the other kids went to investigate.

Charles remembered the sight of the bone piercing through his shin. The scrunch of his face in pain. The sheer amount of blood.

That was all to say, that graphic memory didn’t hold a candle to the sight Charles was bearing witness to now. It looked like something straight out of a horror movie. Edwin’s arms twisting and breaking in unnatural directions. Like some unseen pair of hands was puppeteering him in some gruesome marionette show. Clothing ripped away from his body as his muscles seemed to enlarge and spasm underneath flesh.

And Edwin’s screams. Charles doesn’t think he had ever heard someone in so much pain before. His heart clenched at it. He could feel tears running unbidden from the corners of his eyes. Charles wanted to do something. To help Edwin. To ease this pain somehow.

But he also couldn’t move. His brain short-circuiting with the visceral transformation and the sheer disbelief that what he was seeing was even real.

Was it like this every time?

Charles felt lightheaded and nauseous all at once. He turned to his side to vomit on the ground next to him; his mind at least allowing that much movement. The noises of what was happening only further fueled his body’s desire to get everything out. He knew he had the tendency to be a bit squeamish, but this was next level. He heaved and heaved until only bile was left. And even then, his body was still set on getting that out too.

He was shaking with the exertion of it. His arms unsteadily keeping him on hands and knees. Charles could only find it in himself to focus on his breathing.

Which… he found he could hear now. Titling his head to the direction where Edwin once was, Charles could see that massive grey wolf now standing. It was cautiously examining Charles, the hair on its hackles raised and ears pointed slightly backward.

“It’s just me, yeah?” He raised a hand towards him. “I’m not gonna hurt you, Edwin. And I know you’re not gonna hurt me either.”

At the mention of Edwin’s name, the wolf’s ears lifted—its gaze less wary. Charles slowly maneuvered himself backward to be sitting.

“Yeah,” Charles grinned slightly, “Still you under all that fur, innit? You’re still Edwin. My best mate.”

Looking at the wolf with a clearer mind, Charles reckoned he should have figured it out sooner that it was Edwin. They both have the same eyes—blue-green in color, shining with curiosity, judgement, and kindness in equal measure. His pelt was nearly silver in color, the moon’s light causing him to almost ethereally glow. It definitely wasn’t your average wolf, but, then again, Edwin was far from your average person.

The wolf tentatively walked towards Charles who murmured phrases to soothe and encourage him. A wet nose pressed against Charles still outstretched palm.

“That’s it,” Charles praised, “I’m your friend.” The wolf sniffed all around his hand and wrist, appraising. Though Edwin still seemed scared, like he would be liable to run if Charles suddenly moved, he tried not to give in to the ticklish feeling of whiskers against his skin.

Once it was satisfied, the wolf’s tail shot up, gently swaying back in forth. A lick or two from him allowing Charles to relax. He lowered his arm but found its path impeded by a mass of fur. The accidental pet eliciting the wolf’s tail to wag faster for a tick.

“Forgot how soft your fur was,” Charles said, a tad mesmerized by the feeling. He turned his stray swipe into an intentional petting. The wolf leaned into the touch.

Charles chuckled slightly, “Like that, don’t you?” He added his second hand to scratch behind the wolf’s ears, partially wondering if that stereotype held true for Edwin. It seemed so, as the wolf further pushed into the feeling. Charles was near hugging the animal at this point. He gave into another inexplicable gut desire and rested his head against its neck.

Charles was rewarded with an overwhelming feeling of warmth and sensory bliss. The wolf even smelled a bit like Edwin—not that Charles knew how he smelled or anything in a creepy way, but they have lived together for months now.

Air rushed out of Charles as the full weight of the wolf laid on top of him. “Oof, okay. I need to breathe, mate,” he wheezed out, patting against its side. “Come on, Edwin, ooooffff.” He nudged the wolf more forcefully, earning a side eye.  

“Don’t give me that look,” Charles quipped back, “I’ll give you more pets later, yeah?”

The wolf exhaled loudly through its nose, a canine equivalent of a sigh if there ever was one, and got off of Charles, giving him space to stand.

Getting up off the ground, Charles brushed off his pants and coat, both of which were covered in dirt, plant life, and hair. Looking around the forest, he asked the wolf, “So what do you normally do on nights like these? Hunt down some squirrel or rabbits? A deer if you are feeling like a challenge?”

Edwin tilted his head at the question. “No?” Charles muttered to himself, “Well it would’ve explained why you are so awful at feeding yourself.”

He looked back down to the wolf. “Moonlit stroll by the lake? That’s how you found me, right?”

Seemingly disinterested in what Charles had to say, the animal started to roam around the clearing, intently searching for the pieces of his clothing ripped to shreds during the transformation.

“Oh, better clean that up, huh,” Charles said once he realized what the wolf was doing, “Leave the place better than we found it and all that.” Nothing seemed particularly salvageable. Charles wondered what would typically happen with Edwin when a full moon happened with his change being this destructive to his kit. It didn’t seem like he went through any clothing since they had lived together. So did that mean…

Charles stopped walking, stunned by a mental picture that made his cheeks burn. The wolf stopped and stared at him, like it knew what Charles was thinking (or trying not to think about, thank you very much).

“H-hey, it’s a perfectly reasonable thing to wonder about, okay?” The wolf snorted and continued seeking out scraps. Charles wiped a hand across his face. “God, I hope Edwin doesn’t remember any of that.”

One of the last pieces he came across was Edwin’s brown peacoat, torn at the seams and ravaged by mud and claw marks. He frowned as he picked it up. Charles knew how much this coat meant to his friend.

“Still need to get you that gift, don’t I?” He pondered hopefully to himself. He folded up what workable pieces there were and placed them into his bag. Charles has patched up his fair share of items—his favorite jacket being key among them—perhaps he could repair this for Edwin.

With the rest now situated in a mound, Charles was unsure what to do with the pieces. He could try to place them in his pack with the coat, but it didn’t seem like everything would fit (it’s not like he had an infinite bag of holding or anything). “What do you reckon we do, Edwin?” he asked, deluding himself into believing the animal could understand him like the human could. “Not really close to any rubbish bin.”

The wolf looked at Charles, then to the pile, and then back at Charles. After which, the wolf started to decidedly trot in a direction further into the forest.

“Oi, wait for me!” Charles scrambled to pick up the awkward pile of fabric and followed after him. After a good trek in the woods, with the wolf stopping and sniffing every so often, it led Charles to a specific tree. The animal sat patiently as his companion traversed across the root system to come up next to him.

“Yeah, I don’t think putting it in a tree is very environmentally friendly, mate,” Charles commented as the wolf scratched at the tree. In response, the wolf maneuvered itself behind Charles, nudging him closer to the tree.

“Alright, alright,” Charles acquiesced, putting down the armful of scraps to examine further, “I’ll check the bloody tree, okay?”

Upon closer inspection, he spotted a very purposefully carved symbol into the smooth bark, along with an arrow pointing up and to the right. Following its direction, Charles could spot a hollow in the tree, with a corner of a package peeking out of the cavity.

“Now what is this,” Charles said with some measure of awe. Tugging on the object, he was able to dislodge a package wrapped in plastic. He glanced at the wolf, “Edwin put these here, didn’t he? Course he did.”

Ripping open the covering, Charles found a supply cache of sorts. It contained some meager attire—answered that question for him—a small first aid kit, a rubbish bag, a folding knife, and a lighter.

“Fuckin’ brills, Edwin.” Charles smirked as he threw all of the fabric scraps into the rubbish bag. Tying and placing it at the base of the tree, he remarked, “Since you seem to know where this is, suppose I can leave this here for now and come back for it later.”

Charles brought out his cell, the clock reading just after 8pm—still plenty of time in the night. He yawned, feeling already pretty tired from all that had happened. “Gotta say, Edwin… don’t really know why you are all secretive about this werewolf business. Seems pretty aces to me.” The wolf rubbed his body against Charles legs, nudging until he sat down. The density of the forest in this area meant that very little snow penetrated to the ground, so the floor was cold, but not damp.

“Right. I did promise more pets.” In a position reminiscent of that unfortunate night, Charles found himself once more encompassed by the massive animal. His pelt providing the same sort of comfort and coziness as it did then. Combined with the meditative repetition of caressing fur, Charles found himself struggling to stay awake.

He doesn’t remember exactly when he dozed off, but he sure as shit remembered when he woke up. It was still dark out and Edwin was still a wolf. Something seemed to wake him up; neck snapping upwards, frantically looking around, ears high and active. The abrupt movement of the wolf’s head jolting Charles to wakefulness.

“What…” He trailed off, drowsy and disoriented. “Wha’s goin’ on, ‘win?” He rubbed at his eyes to force some sort of clarity back into them. A sudden lack of heat at his back indicated that the wolf left Charles. The rush of cold was a better kick in the head than a cup of coffee.

Edwin scanned the trees around them. Charles scrambled to stand. “Is it a rabbit or something?” he asked, trying to see what it was seeing. He couldn’t see much of anything at all.

Finding the source of the disturbance, the wolf bolted further into the forest. Unlike the prior time, he was not looking for Charles to keep up.

“Wait!” He yelled after Edwin. Branches and rogue foliage scrapped against his arms as he used them to protect his head while wildly dashing to keep up with the wolf. He could only barely see where he was running, the silver grey of its pelt being the only thing Charles could visually latch on to as a guiding point.

After minutes of sprinting—man, Charles needed to get back into doing cardio—the wolf stopped, seemingly finding what it was after. Charles slowed down to come into the clearing where it was, feeling his heart beating loudly.

“Mate,” Charles exclaimed, heaving breaths in between words, “what the hell was that for? Time for a, for a midnight snack, innit?” He bent down to rest his hands on his knees. And then spotted the reason for Edwin’s sudden halt.

A bear trap clamped around one of wolf’s hind legs.

“Edwin,” Charles mournfully cried out, quickly crouching down next to the iron contraption to examine the damage. The wolf whimpered at its predicament and indignation flared under Charles’s breastbone in response. “I’ll get you out of this, alright? No problem.” He tried to murmur reassurances to both the animal and himself. The wolf settled down at this and Charles set to work—not that he had any clue how to undo a bear trap.

“Who the hell puts out a bloody claw trap all the way out here?” he grumbled, as his hands hovered over where the blunt teeth met the wolf’s flesh. “’s not even any flippin’ bears in this country, for fuck’s sake.”

Luckily, the leg didn’t seem to be actively bleeding. Charles’s first instinct was to try to pry apart the jaws, but they only budged the slightest bit, nowhere close enough to get Edwin out. He took out his phone in hopes of searching the internet—barely any signal. Charles cursed to himself but typed ‘how to undo a bear trap’ into a search engine regardless. He hoped that some amount of data would trickle in to give him a solution. He also hoped it wouldn’t have to come to that.

While he didn’t wait for that, Charles tried to see if he could just suss out how the mechanism worked; work backwards to get it loose and all. He might not have gone to uni for engineering, but he had done his fair share of tinkering before. Perhaps he could figure it out—on the plus side, it did look fairly simplistic.

As he traced the components of the trap, the wolf started growling. “Hey, hey,” Charles reassured, thinking this was just another emotional reaction of being stuck. He placed a placating hand on his neck, “It’s gonna be okay, yeah? You know me, Edwin. I’ll get you out of here. Promise.”

But the growling didn’t cease. If anything, Edwin’s snarls grew louder. Charles could feel the ends of his fur start to prickle.

“Oh, lookie here!” Charles’s stomach dropped at the voice and the memory it resurfaced. “And here I thought I was only going to get revenge on one fuckface tonight, but imagine my surprise when I saw you follow this stupid creature along…”

David.

Chapter Text

“Kinda hoped you were long gone, mate,” Charles yelled out, standing to face David head on. He was obscured by the shadows of the clearing’s tree line, but Charles could’ve sniffed out that sleezy git from a kilometer away.

“Soooo sorry to disappoint,” David replied sarcastically, his voice seeming to come from every direction. “Though, to be fair, I kinda hoped you were dead so… seems like we both didn’t get what we wanted.”

“Fuck with me all you want, yeah? But why go after a defenseless animal?” Charles’s fists balling as he felt his anger rise.

A dark chuckle came out of David as he stepped into the moonlight. “Oh, that thing is anything but defenseless.” Charles had to hold back a gasp as he saw David—who now sported three long, painful looking scars across his face.

They were the exact shape of claw marks.

“But I think you probably knew that, huh.”

“So this”—Charles nodded sideways at the trap—“was all you, innit?”

“Guilty as charged,” he shrugged casually. “Needed to keep the mutt still while I got myself a new rug.” A knife glinted against the moonlight as David brought it out, twirling it idly in his hand. Edwin snarled and snapped his jaws towards the cunt as he moved closer.

“If you want to get to him,” Charles declared, stepping in front of the wolf, “You’re gonna have to go through me first.” He didn’t know where this confidence came from, but it felt all consuming at this point and, frankly, he wasn’t going to question it. He squared up, trying to recall any past scuffle he’d have with mates and desperately wishing for a weapon of his own. His bag was inconveniently out of reach, discarded near the bear trap.

“I’m not picky,” he said with a grin.

“Come on, then,” Charles goaded, lifting up his fists. David charged in, slashing wildly in broad strokes. Charles was able to dodge the haphazard attack with relative ease, bouncing on the balls of his feet to stay agile; his past foray into boxing coming in handy.

“Not so tough without your goons, are ya?” He was feeling cocky, and he knew it. David seemed to fight only with pure emotion, which made him unpredictable but sloppy, so Charles hoped further teasing would give him the advantage he needed.

With the bastard further enraged, Charles tried to find some sort of opening to disarm him amongst his frenetic slashings. Unable to find any chance to grab his wrists, Charles instead kicked out the back of one of David’s knees. It was a successful counter—the leg buckling from the force. As the cunt fell to a kneel, he was able to nick Charles’s cheek with the stray motion of the blade, but Charles was so hopped up on adrenaline that he could barely feel the sting.

“This can all be over,” both breathing heavily, Charles still offered an out, “Just sod off, yeah? Leave now and never return. This doesn’t have to go any further.”

David, who had been staring intently at the ground, knuckles white with his grip on the knife, merely laughed once more.

“You have no fucking idea who you are messing with,” David said with a strange certainty. He lifted his gaze to Charles; his eyes now… pitch black.

It wasn’t a trick of the light like Charles thought last time. His eyes were just entirely coated in darkness. It stopped Charles completely in his tracks.

“What the—” he marveled before being pushed by… a wind or unseen force or something… ending up flat on his back. He felt disoriented by the sudden change and start to panic—this was a dangerous position to be caught in. Before he could right himself, David slammed on top of his midsection, pinning his body down.

Charles at least had the reflexes to defend himself as David plunged the knife down from overhead. The tip of the blade danced way too close to Charles’s neck as he caught David’s wrists. At this point, it became battle of strength between the two, with David bearing down and Charles holding his own. But only barely.  

David grinned maliciously as he pushed further, taking advantage of his positioning. Charles could feel desperation seize him in the face of his potential death, making it unsurprisingly more difficult to focus. He frantically looked around for anything that might help him before everything gave out. His bag was still maddeningly out of reach next to…

The trap and Edwin…

Both of which were… gone.

With a fierce growl and a rush of air, David was mauled off of Charles’s body. Following the movement, he spotted the wolf now on top of a thrashing David. The bear trap still around Edwin’s hind leg, bleeding heavily from him ripping the contraption out of the ground to get to David.

Charles scrambled towards his bag, feeling around for the folding knife he pocketed from the cache earlier.

A rattling of chains and a sharp whimper caused Charles’s head to whip back to their scuffle. “Edwin!” he cried as he saw the wolf now flung off of David, laid out on the ground.

The hilt of David’s knife sticking out of his side.

Charles lost all composure and, with it, any sound fighting tactic. Or any rational logic, really. He remembered screaming as he ran at David. The bastard, caught off guard and unarmed, was no threat as Charles dove at him.

Charles couldn’t recall what he intended to do afterwards. He only knew what ended up happening. How David’s throat ended up slashed with the blade in Charles’s hand. How Charles watched as David’s eyes turned from black to normal to lifeless. How David scratched at Charles’s forearms as he held the bastard down, waiting for him to stop moving. How he weakly gargled on the blood spilling out of the wound.

The same blood that was now all over Charles’s person.

Charles Rowland had just murdered a man.

The scarier part was that he felt no remorse for doing so.

Charles was snapped out of his daze by a broken whine. “Edwin,” he murmured in realization as he rushed over to the wolf’s body. Laying on its side, the beast drew labored breaths; its left eye trained on Charles as he knelt down next to its belly.

“Are you—are you alright, mate?” He asked, though quickly admonished himself, “He’s got a bloody knife sticking out of him, of course he’s not alright.”

The wolf made a snorting sound to draw Charles’s attention. “You’re a smart wolf, yeah? What should I do? How can I help you?”

He watched as the wolf’s gaze went from Charles to his own belly (or as close at it could without raising its head) and back to Charles.

“You want me to take the thing out? You sure?”

Edwin closed his eyes and exhaled forcefully through its nose. Then looked intently back at Charles.

“Okay, then,” Charles trailed off, “Just… just tell me if it hurts, okay?”

Another assenting puff. His hands held a slight tremor as he grasped the blade’s hilt.

“On three…” Charles exhaled and inhaled deeply, steeling himself. “One… Two…” He squeezed his eyes shut and pulled. An accompanying squelch sounded as Charles dislodged the knife. He immediately chucked the fucking thing far away. The wolf let out a sharp bark at the initial movement, but otherwise seemed… fine? Charles would have expected a proper fountain of blood to have gushed out with the knife no longer acting as a morbid plug, but the wound trickled blood for only a few moments before petering out completely.

“Werewolf super healing or something?” Charles said in awe, “Fuckin’ brills.”

Now for the bear trap. He shuffled down the wolf’s side to the leg.

“Let’s see, let’s see…” Charles muttered, still feeling unmoored and discombobulated. “Come on, think Rowland… you can do this.” He rubbed at his eyes, but merely looking at the mechanism yielded nothing in his brain. He was utterly unable to concentrate enough to figure it out.

“M-maybe my phone…” Charles clambered over to his bag once more, patting the ground around it for his mobile. He found it and, clicking it awake, was presented with the time: a little before 8 am.

“Wait a tick…” Charles looked towards the sky and found it brightening. Full sunrise would be soon.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he desperately checked to see if the article he searched for bloody loaded already. The website was pixelated as all hell, but Charles was able to glean some information. Namely, how to undo one of those traps.

As he got back to Edwin, his heart dropped. He was looking now at his friend… as a human. Curled up in a fetal position, his leg still stuck in the jaws of that godforsaken device. The transformation back caused the teeth to further dig into his skin, the metal oozing blood where it had punctured.

“Bollocks, Edwin,” Charles knelt down next to him, gently shaking his friend. He didn’t seem to respond. “Oi. Edwin, I need you to wake up for me, yeah?”

Edwin’s eyes fluttered open slightly. “That’s it,” Charles encouraged, one hand placed on his arm while the other cradled his face. “Come on, let me see those eyes of yours.”

“Wha—” Edwin croaked out, as he struggled to fully open his eyes. “Charles? What happened…”

“Got in a bit of a snag is all,” Charles explained, shrugging off his jacket to lay over Edwin’s body. “Don’t worry, though, I handled it.”

Edwin moved slightly to try to survey his surroundings. A groan dragged out from his lips.

“I need you to stay still, Edwin. Nasty contraption’s still on your leg.”

“What… contraption?” Edwin echoed, complying with Charles’s request to not move but still too out of it to grasp the implications of what he was asking.

“What do you remember?” Charles opted for instead, as he moved to work on Edwin’s leg.

“I uh…” he attempted to rack his brain. “We were in the forest…”

“Mhmm,” Charles confirmed as he used his teeth to rip open the small first aid kit from earlier. God, he wants to bloody kiss past Edwin for his foresight.

“We were… talking… fighting maybe… and uh…” Edwin wrenched his head to look at Charles, his eyes wide in realization. Charles didn’t pay much mind to his mate’s stare, focusing instead on the trap.

“This is gonna hurt, mate.” Charles rapidly engaged the two springs on either side of it. The mechanical teeth released their grip.

A gasp of pain came from Edwin. “I know, I know,” Charles muttered reassurances as he removed Edwin’s leg from the jaws. “Worst is over, yeah? Just need you to stay awake.”

The puncture wounds were not closing in that miraculous way that it did for his wolf form. He cursed quietly to himself.

“Guessing you don’t heal like the wolf does, huh?”

Edwin’s mouth was agape, like he had so much more he wanted to say aside from answering Charles’s question. He closed his mouth after a moment and resignedly responded, “I cannot say that I’ve ever… tested that particular capability… but my… affliction doesn’t afford me all the same benefits as it would for the creature.”

“So, no then.” Charles grimaced, unscrewing a bottle of disinfectant and unceremoniously dumping its contents on Edwin’s wounds. He hissed in response.

“That is correct.” Edwin gritted out, “As long as it wasn’t… silver… the wolf should be fine.”

“But what about you?” Charles could hear the nerves creeping into his voice. He continued to busy himself, wrapping Edwin’s calf in medical gauze. He hoped that that would staunch the bleeding a fair bit.

“Jury’s still out on that, I’m afraid,” Edwin shivered—whether from pain or shock or the cold, Charles couldn’t tell, “Historically… I tend to bear the brunt of my monster’s actions.”

“It’s not a monster, Edwin,” Charles lightly commented as he further examined Edwin’s condition. He could feel his friend’s gaze upon him.

“You are not injured… are you, Charles?”

“I’m perfectly fine. You saw to that,” Charles returned Edwin’s stare, grinning slightly, “Might’ve been a wolf when you did it, but it’s still you, innit?”

Edwin frowned, humming noncommittally.

“Saved my life twice, you did. Bout time I returned the favor.” Charles gently prodded at the area where the knife wound would be on a human version of Edwin. “Looks like wolfie did you a solid there”—he lightly touched the newly formed scar on Edwin’s abdomen—“All healed up it seems.”

His friend sharply inhaled at the touch. Must be a tad delicate still, Charles reckoned.

“Gotta get you to an A&E though. Don’t think that bandage is gonna hold up well enough,” Charles said, finally making eye contact with Edwin, “Do you think you can stand?”

“I’m not quite sure…” Edwin trailed off. He flexed his injured leg, flinching as he moved it. “Doubtful.”

Charles looked back to his cell and its piss poor signal. “Don’t suppose I can call for paramedics out here…”

“Regardless… it would be impossible to explain everything,” Edwin grumbled, now looking pointedly at something in the distance. Charles followed his line of sight to….

Oh. The dead body. Right.

“Charles?” Edwin nervously questioned, implicitly asking him for an explanation.  

“—I’ll tell you later, okay? J-just need to make sure you’re okay first.”

“I’m afraid our options are,” Edwin paused to tightly take a breath, as if using it to manage his pain, “rather limited at the moment.”

“Meaning?”

Edwin started to move to a sitting position. His arms trembling with the exertion before Charles quickly took over, helping him sit up fully.  Edwin grasped at the opening of Charles’s jacket around him, pulling it tighter around him—trying to gain some semblance of modesty.

“No hospital.”

“What?”

“We need to get someone else—”

“There is no one else, mate!”

“It would be far too much risk, Charles,” Edwin declared, his tone leaving no room for discussion, “For you especially.”

“Me? You are at risk of bleeding out, Edwin. We can figure—"

“—holy shit. He’s really dead.” A decidedly not Edwin or Charles voice gasped out. The two of them fell silent. Charles could see Edwin tense up. He could feel his own heart stutter. They were caught.

But wait… Charles knew that voice.

“Crystal?”

Chapter Text

It was, in fact, Crystal. She was staring intently at the corpse of David, her fists clenched tight.

Charles felt compelled to check on her, but he also needed to be with Edwin right now. He kept flicking his gaze between the two of them—stuck in a decision paralysis.

Edwin commented, seemingly unaware of his plight, “It looks that you found one of my caches—”

“Yeah, wolfie led me to one,” Charles interjected.

Edwin’s face flashed with confusion at that information. He quickly regained his composure and continued on, “Did you happen to keep the spare set of clothing it contained?”

“Right here.” Charles started to take out the clothing as he confirmed Edwin’s question, knowing he was inevitably about to ask for them.

“I’ll get myself... presentable while you work out what Crystal is doing here.”

“You sure you don’t need my help, mate?”

Edwin sighed. “Go to her, Charles. I shall be fine.”

As he moved to stand up, his injured leg gave out, only to be caught by Charles. “Edwin,” he said, concerned, as he righted his friend.

“Go,” Edwin commanded, agitated, “The sooner we get Crystal back to reality, the sooner we can get out of this dreadful place. We do not have the luxury to dawdle about right now.”

Charles nodded and reluctantly headed to Crystal, standing stock-still over David’s body. Her eyes boring holes into his skull. Charles tried not to look too long at the blood drying around the corpse’s throat.

“Hey.” Crystal didn’t respond at Charles’s gentle greeting. “Crystal,” he tried more firmly. Still nothing. “Crystal,” he said, this time even placing a hand on her shoulder. This seemed to break through to her, though Crystal jumped near sky high at his words. He was able to duck out of the way of a stray arm she flung out, else he was liable to get a wicked concussion.

“It’s okay. ‘s okay. It’s just me, yeah?”

There were tears in her eyes. “He’s finally… gone.” A gasp choked out of her.

“Can’t hurt you no more, got it?”

Crystal nodded several times, unable to open her mouth for fear of breaking down into sobs of relief. Charles brought her into an embrace, tucking her head under his chin.

“It’s okay,” Charles reassured, rubbing smoothing circles into Crystal’s back, “It’s gonna be okay.”

He held her as she shook in his arms. Don’t know how long they stayed like that.

“—Crystal,” Edwin’s voice cut through behind Charles, “What are you even doing here?”

“Oi,” Charles reprimanded, “Bedside manners.”

“We do not have the luxury of bedside manners at the present moment, Charles,” Edwin refuted. “Or have you forgotten about the dead body at our feet?”

Crystal pulled back from Charles, wiping her eyes off with her sleeve. “He’s right, Charles. I didn’t come here just to lose my shit.”

“What did you come here for then?” Edwin asked.

“How did you find us?” Charles asked simultaneously.

“I—” Crystal took a step back from Charles, “I can’t quite… look this is going to sound crazy—”

“You would be surprised at what would be considered crazy after this night,” Edwin dryly commented, folding his arms. Crystal shot him a look. Charles nodded for her to continue.

“I… had a vision,” Crystal rushed out. “When David”—she tried to search for the right word—"left… I felt this rush of energy back. And I saw you. I just knew where you two were. That he was there. I wanted to help.”

“You saw us?” Charles wondered out loud.

“You are a psychic,” Edwin declared, eyes examining Crystal. He limped over to come beside Charles, who automatically put his arm around Edwin’s back to keep him up.

“Yeah—” She exhaled, self-conscious. “I don’t really go advertising it. It’s only caused… a lot bad shit, okay?”

“So… psychics are real now, too?” What the hell had been in Charles’s world this whole time and he had been none the wiser?

“Charles, you’ve been living with a werewolf for several months now and psychics are where you draw the line?”

“Point taken.”

“—Wait. You’re a werewolf?” Crystal looked at Edwin incredulously. He looked offended at her apparent disbelief, like he was annoyed that she didn’t think him capable of such a feat.

Charles looked at Edwin, his gaze questioning. Was he really going to just tell Crystal about a secret he seemed to have kept under lock and key for… however long now?

“The canine is already out of the bag, so to speak,” Edwin said, understanding what Charles was asking from his expression, “Discretion or diversion will not get us out of this situation any sooner. Whether or not I like it, Crystal is now a part of this mess, too.”

“Gee. Thanks,” Crystal automatically quipped back.

“Besides, she has entrusted us with her secret,” Edwin continued, markedly more sincere, “Turnabout only seems like fair play.”

“Uh… Glad we are all in agreement, then,” Charles added, still wholly confused at what was happening. This all started to feel like some bonkers dream. “So, what now then?” He quickly flicked his gaze down at the corpse below—immediately thought better of it—and shot his gaze back up at the other two.

“We need to get rid of the body,” Edwin dictated, clinically. “Fortunately, this section of the forest is relatively less populated by students and hikers, so we have some time.” He looked towards the sky. “I would approximate we have three hours at the most.”

“What about your leg, mate?”

“I’ll be fine,” he responded, a little too immediate for Charles’s liking.

“Edwin—”

“He’s right,” Crystal said, cutting off Charles’s protests, “The dead guy is more important right now.”

Charles let out a noise of frustration. “Okay, okay, then. Do either of us even know how to dispose of a corpse? ‘s not really something they teach you in class, innit?”

Edwin hummed thoughtfully. “Alas, the only way I know without access to particularly harsh chemicals would be to dissect the body and burn the resulting parts, but a fire’s smoke trail would be too noticeable…”  

“Oi. How do you…” Charles trailed out—immediately unwilling to finish his question—a pit forming in his stomach. Edwin sounded more like he was coming from a place of experience as opposed to some hypothetical situation he had pondered in the past (which, frankly, with how many detective novels he has, wouldn’t be shocking for Edwin to have thought out).

Charles was getting antsy, a byproduct of feeling too many things closing in on him all at once. A gut reaction born from the sound of a slamming door and stomping feet. It was all rushing by him. He could feel his mind creeping in with the familiar mantra saying “Everything is your fault. This is all your fault. What did you do now, Charles. How did you fuck this up.”

He hadn’t heard that refrain in some time. He forgot how much he hated it.

“I know what to do,” Crystal murmured out. The look on her face grave but determined.

“Crystal…” Charles cautioned, concerned with the implications behind her expression. “You don’t have to…”

“My parents. They can make this go away.” Crystal brought out her mobile, opening it with a few taps.

“I thought you were trying to hide from your folks—” Charles sputtered out before she could continue to contact them.

“It’ll be fine—” She brushed him off.

“Can everyone stop saying that?!” Charles yelled out; a tad surprised from his own outburst. He felt Edwin tense under his arm at the volume. Charles desperately wanted to stop and think. Regain some composure. But his heart was having none of it. “You seem to be terrified of your folks, Crystal. Which I reckon for a psychic is proper scary, innit? Edwin was stabbed and had a sodding bear trap on his leg… and, I know you are denying it, mate, but you need some actual medical attention, yeah? And there’s—there’s a bloody corpse here! None of us are fine.” His voice cracked at the word fine.

Crystal and Edwin both frowned at him, sympathetically. It only agitated him. He should be helping them, not the other way around. He was the one who had to go and insist on following Edwin into the woods somewhere. He was the one who killed David.

“You two have helped me so much,” Crystal said, breaking the tension in the aftermath of Charles’s frustration. “Let me help you, okay? I can handle my parents. I’m not the same scared, self-centered girl who ran away from her problems instead of facing them head on.”

“Thank you, Crystal,” Edwin spoke before Charles could butt in again. He grit his teeth to silence his protests.

“Yeah,” Crystal exhaled, “yeah.” She moved towards the center of the clearing to get a better signal. Charles could hear Crystal’s voice change as she talked to whoever was on the other line, though he couldn’t quite make out what she was saying.

He grimaced at it all.

“Charles, I—” Edwin started, only to blanch and falter in his footing, relying on Charles to carry more of his weight.

“Shit, mate,” Charles cursed, bending his knees to brace himself for the additional load, “You’re sure we can’t go to an A&E?”

“It would invite too many questions.” Edwin turned paler the longer they stood around. He tried to remain unphased, or at least give a compelling façade of it. “To give Crystal the best chance for this, we need to handle this internally; reduce any possibility of a trail back here.”

“Alright,” Charles relented, “Just us then, yeah. Suppose we could see if Crystal’s people will help you out or…”

Edwin shook his head, “We have no idea how long they will take to get here nor if they would be particularly receptive to any… interlopers.”

“You think they are like… part of the mafia or something?” Charles uttered conspiratorially.

“I’m reluctant to speculate,” Edwin frowned, “Besides, I do believe you are correct about my wounds requiring stitches in short order.”

Charles glanced down at Edwin’s leg—the bandage started to show red. “Fuck, Edwin—you got to let me know about these things.” Charles shook his head, trying to clear his spike of worry, “Okay, yeah. We need to get you fixed up pronto. D’you think we can make it back to our room without anyone seeing us?”

“If it were earlier, I would say so”—Edwin paused to breathe— “Right now, I am… less than enthusiastic about the prospect.”

Charles exhaled harshly out of his nose. “What about the café? It’d be a lull right about now and I could get us in through the back.”

“That could work,” Edwin mused, considering, “though I don’t know how happy your employer would be about you bringing me to the café looking like this.”

“Use my place,” Crystal offered, now back from her conversation. She didn’t look particularly happy, but she also didn’t look devastated like earlier. Small victories, Charles supposed. “You can get in through the back and not freak the fuck outta Jenny.”

She tossed a ring of keys towards Charles who was able to (more or less) catch them with his one free hand.

“You’re the best, Crystal.” He tried to give her a reassuring grin.

Half of her mouth twitched up in a smile before settling back to a no-nonsense expression that Charles had only seen when she had to deal with particularly nasty customers.

“Glad you think so, Charles,” she said, her tone soft in drastic juxtaposition with her face, “I’ll catch up with you guys later.”

The duo nodded in appreciation and hobbled off towards the village.

When they left, Crystal closed her eyes and steadied her breathing.

“Have fun burning in hell, David…” A wicked smile cracking across her face.

Chapter Text

It took longer than Charles would have liked to get Edwin and him to Crystal’s place undetected. By the time they were able to unlock her door, Charles was about fully carrying his best mate. They both nearly fell through the entryway with the juggling Charles had to do between finding the right keys and keeping Edwin afloat.

“Come on, let’s get you patched up, yeah?” Charles lightly offered as he lowered Edwin down on the nearby couch in Crystal’s apartment.

Edwin tersely nodded, looking like it was taking his full concentration not to pass out.

“No nodding off on me, okay?” Charles warned as he rushed to the nearest bathroom. He tore open several cabinets and drawers, shoving aside several quantities of make-up and other beauty products in search of medical supplies he could potentially use. “Why don’t—why don’t you talk to me to stay awake.”

Over the shuffling he could hear Edwin respond, “I can… scarcely think of any appropriate topics at the present moment, Charles.” If he had the energy to act snippy, Charles would take it.

“I’m sure that big brain of yours can come up with something—” He quipped back, interrupting himself as he spotted a hefty first aid kit. “Ah ha! Gotcha.”

“And I’m sure Crystal will tear you a new one with what devastation I can only assume you are doing to her water closet,” Edwin dryly countered as Charles came back, arms full of various medical and non-medical objects.

Edwin’s eyebrows shot up as he got a glimpse of Charles, “Good lord, Charles! I only need help with some lacerations, not a full-on amputation.”

“Didn’t know what I needed, now, did I?” Charles grumbled as he inventoried his materials, ripping open various packages with his teeth. “Also, I’ll clean it all up after I get you sorted.” He gestured in the direction of the bathroom.

“Better see what we are working with,” Charles murmured as he put on some disposable gloves. He then carefully unwrapped the gauze bandage around Edwin’s calf. Charles tried to keep his face schooled to a neutral expression, as to not make his friend concerned (or perhaps to ease himself, Charles wasn’t entirely sure). He hummed, “Well, looks like it’s not infected yet, so that’s good at least.”

“Small blessings, I suppose,” Edwin mused in a far-off tone. A sharp bark of laughter shot out of him quickly after. He mumbled an apology at his outburst and continued to stare at the ceiling.

Charles gently prodded around the wounds, looking at the grimaces coming from Edwin in reaction. “Still need to stop that bleeding though…”

With an almost uncharacteristic severity, he proceeded to prop Edwin’s leg on a series of pillows, clean up any residue that he missed in his initial rush, and re-wrap his calf with a series of gauze pads and elastic bandage to maintain some pressure.

“Right, if we can staunch the bleeding, perhaps I can use some of these butterfly bandages to help close your wounds,” Charles pondered as he continued to survey what he had available to him. “Don’t suppose I could get Crystal to pick up a suture kit from the chemist, you think? Would rather like to not try my hand at stitches using a sewing needle again—”

“Again?” Edwin’s voice cut through the continuous monologuing of Charles.

“Oh uhm, yeah,” Charles moved to dispose of his current pair of gloves, washing his hands in Crystal’s tiny kitchenette—for proper hygiene and nothing else, okay? “Forget I said anything...”

“Charles.”

“It’s fine.”

“You have been adamant on learning my secrets—” Edwin’s voice started to raise with his indignation.

“Really, mate, it’s nothing—”

“It is certainly not ‘nothing,’ Charles. How do you know how to stitch someone up? How do you even know this much about first aid? I highly doubt you were a scout and you certainly don’t strike me as the camping type.”

“I could be a scout…” Charles grumbled out, petulant.

“Charles,” Edwin pleaded, abruptly losing his prior anger, “Please.”

“Right. You’re right,” Charles sighed. He plopped himself on the floor next to the sofa. Next to Edwin but pointedly not looking at him. “So, my dad, yeah… he was… he got angry… sometimes.”

“Oh, Charles—” Edwin spoke with such heartbreak. Charles’s eyes starting to sting.

“Please, Edwin, I…” Charles swallowed, “Just let me say everything, yeah?” He could feel Edwin’s head nod behind him.

“He uhm… he got… physical when he was mad.” Charles curled his legs up so he could hug his knees. “B-but at least he wasn’t…. wasn’t hurting my mum. I think.” He wiped one of his eyes with the palm of a hand.

“Couldn’t do anything right for that… cunt. Normally… I’d just end up with some bumps and bruises, yeah? Nothin’ I couldn’t handle. Sometimes though… he uh… got worse…”

Charles felt Edwin’s hand grip onto his shoulder, giving a comforting squeeze before staying a steadying weight for Charles.

“He would throw things… usually… my things… and… y’know, sometimes there would be shrapnel and shite like that.”

He huffed out a sad breath. “Normally it’d be something small, yeah? Just slap a plaster on it and everything’s good. But there was one time… I got a real nasty gash—from like, like a broken lamp or something.”

“Mum’s usually silent when it happens. But even she spoke up to my dad, saying that I needed to go to A&E and all.”

He frowned at the memory. “He wasn’t having it though. Said I needed to toughen up. That he didn’t want the neighbors seeing his ‘pansy of a son’ all beat up.” He scoffed and muttered, “Trying to save his ass more like…”

“She kept trying to convince him, but when he raised his hand… well I just said I was all right, didn’t I? That it looked worse than it was.”

“But it was bad,” Edwin supplied quietly. Charles nodded.

“Yeah, wouldn’t stop bleeding.” Charles started to fiddle with a stray thread from his trousers.

“If it got infected or if I’d bled out… I’d have to go to the hospital then… and then Children’s Services would be involved… would leave my mum all alone,” He sighed, “Grabbed a needle and some thread from mum’s sewing kit. And I… well… I had to stitch myself back up… Hurt like a bitch and I still have a nasty scar from it but… I healed up alright from it.”

Charles absentmindedly traced his fingers over the reminder of that night, a raised edge of scar tissue alongside his shin. Edwin’s hand on his shoulder squeezed in support. Charles sniffled and wiped at his face once more.

“Next day he said that that would never happen again. Mum said she would leave him if it ever did. Though that didn’t end up being a one-time thing…” he muttered out. The accompanying silence speaking to what hadn’t happened for him. The broken bones and broken promises. “So, I got better at it. And mum was able to grab some proper suturing materials from a nurse friend of hers. So at least I wasn’t liable to get an infection…”

“I am so sorry Charles,” Edwin said, voice seeping with sympathy. “You did not deserve that.”

“I—” Charles reflexively moved to rebuke Edwin’s absolution but was interrupted by the feeling Edwin’s arms wrapping around his shoulders from behind, pulling him into a hug.

“No. You did not deserve any of that, Charles Rowland.” He declared it with such conviction; his arms further tightening around Charles with every emphasis, like he wouldn’t let Charles go unless he accepted that as truth.

Charles burrowed his head into the crook of Edwin’s arm, wanting to hide within the hug. He closed his eyes and let himself just be held for a bit.

“I’m supposed to be taking care of you, mate. Not the other way around.” Charles reluctantly spoke sometime later, pulling out of the embrace. Turning to finally look at Edwin after all he had just told him, Charles found his friend studying him intensely.

 “Edwin?” he asked warily.

Edwin didn’t answer, his expression shifting from a deep sorrow to seriousness to… something almost fearful?

“Edwin?” Charles repeated, a churning feeling shaping up in his gut at Edwin’s gaze.

Then, like a dam breaking, Edwin spoke.

“Charles, I’m in love with you.”