Chapter Text
The problem with Charles Rowland, is once there’s something on his mind, he can’t really let it go.
He obsessed. Not in the way Edwin does, when Edwin fixates on something everyone else knows about it, because he physically cannot let anything go unless he understands it, and even then… he’s smart about it.
Charles just isn’t like that. He’s not smart like Edwin, there’s just no way he could ever be, actually, because Edwin is like a proper genius and he’s just… Charles. When he gets stuck on stuff it’s not because he’s able to understand it or because he’s capable of understanding it, it’s just because… it’s because… well… he doesn’t know. He’s never really understood himself the same way everyone else seems to. Anyone would say he’s got a solid sense of identity, that he knows who he is and he’s so solidly tied into his subcultures and way of life, but the truth is it’s kind of all a farce. Like – its true, in a sense. But beyond that it’s just external. He dresses the way he wants to dress and he listens to the music he loves and he exists as a boy from his time and era but that’s as deep as it goes.
He’s a mess, and he’s not sure how to fix it.
What he’s currently doing, what he currently can’t stop doing, is thinking about Monty.
Something about the birthday party they hosted for him, many somethings about Monty himself, they’re sticking in his mind, have stuck since that day, and he just can’t stop thinking.
The genuine glee that had lit up Monty’s expression when Charles had asked him to explain astrology.
The way they’d ended up talking and laughing like old friends on the floor of Niko’s room.
The way he’d gotten so shy talking about his birthday.
So many, so many little things, circling around and around in his head, over and over again. One of the few downsides of not being able to sleep – and really, it’s only a few Charles doesn’t miss it all that much, sleep was never really something he ever found much solace in, beyond it being a brief escape from the reality of his situation – is the fact that he literally never stops thinking. There’s no way to turn his brain off, no way to do anything other than think. All the time.
It's been two full days since Monty’s impromptu birthday party, and Charles knows he’s not been subtle. Edwin’s definitely picked up on it, but he’s not mentioned anything which means that maybe he doesn’t know, although Charles isn’t entirely sure that Edwin doesn’t not know, because Edwin seems to always know everything about Charles. Sometimes he’s fairly sure Edwin knows more about him than he does. He knows the depth of Charles’ bitter, miserable past. He checks up on Charles’ parents with him, holds him through the dark days, supports him through the good. He knows Charles intimately, and in some ways it’s terrifying. In other’s it’s amazing. It means they rarely actually have to have any proper conversations, because Edwin seems to always know if something’s bothering him, and he normally knows what it is.
Well.
With two glaring exceptions.
Crystal and The Cat King.
Those are two issues they’ve not discussed. Well, they’ve sort of been discussed, but not really, not properly… except really, suddenly Charles doesn’t care about that.
Not when Monty seems to be the most pressing issue at hand.
Everyone’s out, again. Or at least, everyone’s not here, again. Frankly, Charles has no idea where the girls are, or why he’s apparently been left out, but he does know that Edwin is out with Monty, and as much as that does not help the turmoil in his brain, he is honestly glad to have some time to himself. He kind of wants to pop back to the office, to sit on their sofa and stare up at the ceiling until everything sort of works itself out in his head, but he knows he can’t. Going back to the office takes him away from Edwin and the girls, and there’s no way he’s willing to do anything that might prevent him from being there if they need him. So he’s splayed out on Crystal’s bed, knuckles pressed into his eyes as he thinks.
And thinks.
And thinks.
Until the other day, Charles would say that he didn’t like Monty, for reasons somehow both ridiculous and also not. Reasons he couldn’t necessarily verbalise in any way that made sense.
But now he’s not so sure. Monty had been a little cold and prickly at first, not to Niko, not to Crystal, and definitely not to Edwin… but weirdly, bizarrely, to Charles and Charles alone.
Except now he wasn’t. Had it been purely because they hadn’t got to know each other all that well? Had they just managed to get off on slightly the wrong foot and then Charles had imagined the rest?
Because the thing is, when Charles thinks about Monty, there’s no flash of irritation, no prickle of the hair on the back of his neck. His instinct isn’t the bitter swell of discomfort, no, it’s… something warm, something hesitant and excitable and nice.
He likes him.
He wants to be friends, actual friends.
Charles sits up.
That’s what this is.
That’s all this is.
This weird circulation of his mind. He just wants to be Monty’s friend. He’s not jealous because Monty’s out spending time with Edwin this evening, he’s just jealous because Edwin’s spending time with Monty, because Charles wants to hang out with him too. Because he wants to be friends.
That’s it.
He feels so much better immediately, like some weight has disappeared off his shoulders. It’s as simple as that, it’s all as simple as that.
Except, there’s a little devious voice that sounds awfully like Crystal, that says that that’s not quite the case, but he pushes it as far away as he can. He’s solved the problem, he understands.
Case closed, and all that.
He manages to stop thinking about Monty, for a little while, distracting himself for the rest of the evening with Niko’s laptop, scrolling through the various websites and streaming services she’d taught him how to use. The girls return shortly, carrying a plastic bag of Chinese food, and they settle in front of the TV, Niko and Crystal with tupperware containers and wooden chopsticks in their laps, and Charles lounging between them with one of Niko’s soft toys cradled in his arms. It’s nice, a chance to relax and enjoy time with his friends without the weight of figuring out what was going on his head.
That is, until Edwin gets home.
Charles is the one who notices that something’s off, the way Edwin’s twisting his hands just a little too tightly, the crease between his eyebrows that doesn’t instantly smooth when his stormy eyes lock on Charles’ brown.
He’s quick to push himself up off of the bed, stepping over to Edwin as the girls greet him, a hand settling on his shoulder.
“You okay, mate?”
“I… um –”
Charles nods, his hand sliding down to Edwin’s elbow as he gently guides the two of them out of Niko’s room and into the hallway, “we’ll be back in a sec.”
As soon as they’re out of earshot, Edwin sighs, dropping his head to Charles’ shoulder as they melt together, arms winding around waists. It’s a beautiful thing, being close enough to feel his best friend, warm and solid and real in a way that nothing else is. Crystal’s lovely and he likes kissing her and touching her and holding her, but it doesn’t feel like anything. It’s never felt like anything, beyond in his head. But Edwin… Edwin… Charles can feel him. He can feel every inch of his skin, the gentle tickle of his breath, the warmth of his hands… it’s perfect.
Like this, he can feel the tightness in Edwin’s shoulders begin to ease, letting out a breath he’s been holding.
“Talk to me, mate.”
Edwin withdraws, just a little, just enough to rest his chin on Charles’ shoulder.
“Monty kissed me.”
Something sharp twists in his chest and Charles pulls away, searching Edwin’s face.
“He did what?”
Edwin rolls his eyes, and Charles feels the initial flare of anger die down a little, relieved that it doesn’t seem like Edwin’s legitimately upset.
“It was a misunderstanding, he didn’t – we were talking about… about feelings and relationships and I… I misled him, by accident. He thought I meant that I had feelings for him, and really I’m not even sure that he’s got feelings for me, I think he’s just confused but I–” Edwin shakes his head. “He kissed me, and I froze. I didn’t kiss him back, and I’m not sure how I feel about it.”
It’s a stupid impulsive thing, one that Charles has legitimately no idea where it comes from, because it’s not like he’s ever thought about it at all until apparently right this second but… but he says it. Because he’s an idiot.
“You froze? Mate – even I’d have kissed him.”
Edwin’s eyes widen, his fingers tightening instinctively on Charles’ shoulder as he opens his mouth, then shuts it again.
“What?”
Charles swallows, his mouth suddenly painfully dry for someone who has been dead for thirty something years.
“I… uh… um.” He blinks at Edwin. “I don’t know what I meant by that.”
Blissfully, blessedly, Edwin doesn’t seem angry or hurt or annoyed by Charles’ stupidity. Instead, he laughs at him. Soft, gentle, affectionate.
“Oh Charles,” he whispers, and Charles does not like the tone of his voice, because it sounds like he knows something Charles doesn’t, and Charles really doesn’t understand it.
They head back to the girls a short while later, after Edwin’s told him everything he wants to, and Charles has done his absolute best to be the good, supportive friend he’s supposed to be. By the time they walk in, somehow, as foolish as Charles feels, Edwin appears to have actually calmed down about everything. He’s not upset about the kiss, he’s not upset with Monty, and he’s assured Charles that he’ll talk to him about it.
Tomorrow though.
For today, they spend the rest of the evening watching Scooby Doo until the girls are half-asleep, takeout abandoned in various states of consumption across the floor.
“Hey.” Crystal whispers, nudging Charles’ knee with her foot. “We should head to bed.”
Niko makes a sleepy protest, but Crystal’s already pushing herself up off of the bed, swinging her legs round the edge of the mattress. “Goodnight everyone.”
Together she and Charles retreat to her room and briefly Charles thinks that it’ll be a peaceful evening, holding her until she falls asleep, maybe some affectionate kissing.
But no, no today apparently.
The second the door closes, Crystal pushes him up against the door, her hands firm on his shoulders as she stretches up to kiss him.
He melts into it, an arm wrapping around her waist as their lips move in harmony.
It’s fun, getting to kiss her, getting to escape the world he’s spent the past three decades building to explore something new and exciting, but of course he has to ruin it.
Crystal’s kissing at the corner of his mouth, about to explore the length of his jaw, when he mumbles into her cheek, “what’s it like kissing a boy?”
Crystal stops kissing him.
“Charles… Why are you thinking about kissing boys?” She asks, drawing back away from him. She sounds like she should be angry, but like with Edwin earlier, there’s a hint of something knowing there, something not suspicious but… but…
He’s not sure.
“I–” he shakes his head, because frankly he’s not sure why he is. “Edwin –”
“ – You want to kiss Edwin?” Again, not suspicious, not angry, not how she ought to sound.
“No! No, I don’t – I don’t want to kiss Edwin. Or like, I don’t think so – but –”
Crystal presses a finger to his lips, her eyes glittering as she tries to suppress a smile. Charles really, really, doesn’t like the way she’s looking at him.
“Charles, do you want to kiss Monty?”
Right.
Yeah.
So that’s the problem.
Because it’s like the second Edwin mentioned his kiss with Monty, Charles hasn’t been able to stop picturing it. First, Monty kissing Edwin… then, Edwin kissing Monty, and then… Monty kissing Charles. And Charles kissing Monty.
It’s not like he’s thinking about it because he wants to kiss him, he just can’t stop thinking about it, and for some ridiculous, stupid reason, kissing Crystal doesn’t feel good right now because all his stupid brain won’t stop picturing a boy he barely knows.
“I don’t… know.” he whispers, voice cracking miserable. “He – he kissed Edwin and he’s – he’s pretty like a girl and I don’t – I can’t –”
He can’t bear to look her in the eyes, staring down at the ground between their feet. He’s expecting rejection, anger, something.
Not this.
She laughs at him.
Just like Edwin did earlier. It’s kind, light-hearted, everything except how she should react.
But she doesn’t stop laughing.
“Charles.” She gets out between giggles, reaching up to cup his face in her hands. “Oh baby, if you – if you really want to kiss Monty, or any boy, then go for it.”
“What?” He stares at her, the breath he doesn’t need catching in his throat. “Huh?”
She beams, rubbing the pad of her thumb across his cheekbone. “But please, if you’re going to flirt with him – with either of them –” Charles isn’t entirely sure what she means by that, “then you have to let me help.”
Charles takes a deep breath, then frowns, “I’m not bad at flirting!”
He should really have focused on any other part of this bizarre conversation, but for some reason that’s the bit that snaps him back to reality.
Crystal hums, tilting her head, and Charles groans. “... I am that bad at flirting?”
She nods. “Yeah, but like – in a cute way. It worked cause it was sweet, not because it was any good.”
Charles sighs, “I – I don’t have like feelings for Monty, or anything.” He says softly.
“Sure.” Crystal raises an eyebrow, and Charles shakes his head.
“No, like I don’t have feelings for anybody–”
“Anybody?”
“No! No, no, not like that. Not that I don’t have feelings for you, but like I don’t –” She’s smiling, he realises, and he sighs again. “You’re teasing me.”
“I am.”
Charles sighs, slumping back against the door. “Can we bench this ‘til tomorrow?”
Crystal nods, stroking his cheek again, before stretching up and pressing a soft kiss to Charles’ lips. “Of course we can. But just so you know, we will be recruiting Niko.”
They pull away from the door and he sighs, shaking his head. “I’d expect nothing less.”
Anyone else should probably be worried, how much time their not-quite-girlfriend spent with someone like Niko, someone where simple friendship seemed far too… well… simple, to cover the way they looked at each other, and how right they were for each other, but honestly Charles really wasn’t. Crystal had confessed to him pretty early on – before they’d first started… this – that she was bisexual, and honestly? This isn’t anything serious, Charles doesn’t expect it to ever go anywhere serious, and the idea of Crystal getting into a healthy relationship with someone living… It’s exciting. It’s something she ought to pursue, and if she decides she wants to, Charles is in full support.
He stays with Crystal until she falls asleep, then a little while longer. He doesn’t really want to talk to Edwin, because if he talks to Edwin then he’s going to tell him about this, and he doesn’t want to get in the way of any potential relationship that Edwin might be interested in pursuing but… well.
Thirty years together.
They spend the night together playing Cluedo, and when the girls wake up in the morning, Charles feels somewhat more normal about everything again.