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Edwin was well aware of the fact that he was too much for most people.
That the things that bothered him would be water under the bridge for others, that the things that dug and burrowed under his clavicle and into his lungs was nothing for most.
That Edwin was always, always, the problem in the equation.
The wrong number, the mistyped letter.
The thing that had to be fixed, because it was he who was wrong, not anything else.
Crystal had gotten rid of their sofa.
Their sofa had been a muddy colour, burgundy cushions browned with age and wear, but it blended nicely into their office. Fit right in with their old bookcases and filing cabinets.
Neither he, nor Charles, ever knew what it felt like, if the springs that creaked sometimes were uncomfortable, or if the fabric was a cheap, scratchy texture. Neither boy had reason to care about comfort in relation to this sofa, so it did not matter to them if it turned out to be uncomfortable.
This was one reason, Edwin was sure, that he had not been consulted about this new sofa.
It was a deep purple, with no hints of pink or red in its velvet looking upholstery. Maybe with a blue undertone, perhaps a fifth of the reason being Edwin’s partiality to blue, and four-fifths Crystal’s love for choosing anything that was a ‘statement piece.’
It had thick, squishy cushions that Crystal sank into, and was at least three feet longer than their previous sofa.
She could sprawl out on it, and nap whenever she chose.
From what Crystal said, it was massively more comfortable and prettier than their sofa had been, and she got final say as the only person who could feel the sofa.
She had moved their set of drawers—as well as everything on top of and around it—in front of their switchboard and filing cabinets, which meant the area was now darker than it had been previously. And they could not reach their filing cabinets now without moving a dozen things, and the chair that had been in front of the switchboard previously had been pushed in front of one of their short bookcases, which meant Edwin would have to move it out of the way every time he needed something from that particular bookcase.
No, they did not typically use their switchboard, so it did not strictly matter that it was now inaccessible.
Yes, they did only use their filing cabinets for storage. So it was… fine, that they could not access them. For now.
It was fine that their office was now darker than it had been previously, even if the shadows made figures on the walls in ways that made Edwin’s skin crawl.
It was not hard to do, to move the chair out from in front of his bookcases. Arguably the chair could go into the closet, but it meant another thing would be out of place.
It was not as if they played a lot of their games anymore; it did not matter if their chair went in the closet.
Crystal did not enjoy playing Cluedo with them. So they no longer played.
It did not matter that his spell books were not as easy to get to as they had been.
Things were not where they should be.
Edwin tried not to notice that it was all his things that were moved about, not Charles’.
That was unfair. It was wrong.
Some of Charles' things were moved, but his things had an area in which they could be, and often were, returned to. A couple of hidey holes throughout their office for Charles’ football or his bag of tricks.
For that matter, anything of his could easily go into the bag of tricks, and he would not have to worry about things going missing.
Edwin's things, on the other hand, tended to have one place they would sit and stay. Places that were now blocked, or covered, and hidden away.
It was hard to say what hurt more.
His things being moved, or this reminder that he should be smaller.
Should be hidden.
That perhaps it was a problem, that he was too much.
That he cared about things that no one else cared about.
That he would get upset over things no one else would get upset over.
So, as it stood, Edwin said nothing when Crystal had presented the sofa to him with a smug smile, surely waiting for Edwin to get upset with her, to ask where the other sofa had gone, or where his things had been placed.
Edwin knew better than to give her what she wanted, the reaction she was hoping for.
Ignoring it never helped.
But that never stopped Edwin from trying.
He had never not been one to pray that he could be boring enough to be ignored in turn.
For them to decide it was not worth it, not today.
Of course running was pointless; the office was where he was supposed to be, while Crystal could, and would, leave, at least until it was time to move on from researching to field work.
That they were now expected to wait for her, lest she feel like she were not part of the agency, or worse, purposefully excluded.
Time-sensitive cases were not so sensitive now, not when Crystal needed to sleep and eat and go to school.
It did not matter that Edwin could not sit still, would press his fists against each other with his back to the room, hoping that Charles would not notice, would not question what he was doing.
It was quite unfortunate, the things that Charles tended to notice and what he would let slide, but at least he was at least partially preoccupied ensuring Crystal knew she had a place in their office.
Forever and ever.
All the time in the world.
Edwin perhaps would not be so upset by it, if he were allowed to go on with their cases while Charles waited for Crystal. If he could scout ahead to at least be doing something, instead of being forced to wait in their office for Crystal to get ready on the other side of London, come to theirs on the tube, only to also take forever to get to their destination the long way.
Because it was a two person job, apparently, waiting.
A two person job, making space in their shared lives, even if it seemed as if it were Edwin who had to do most of the accommodating.
Because Charles was kinder, better, nicer than Edwin. Could make space without a second thought, without thinking terrible things while changing the only thing that had brought a sense of joy after a life and death of suffering.
Charles did not worry about their caseload piling up as the Night Nurse breathed down their necks, because the worst he would get was a smack on the back of the wrist.
The worst he would see was extra paperwork, not endless green halls and a porcelain beast that loved the taste of his flesh.
It was just a sofa.
A sofa that took up more space in their office than anything else, that was barely used yet was supposed to be dusted and taken care of.
Which Edwin could not find within himself to sit down on, as it was not his.
And he could remember, with stark clarity, what would happen if he used items which were not his.
The sofa sat in the nook where their old sofa had been, and Crystal would sprawl out on it when she was over, complaining about school, her lack of friends, their growing caseload.
How she quite disliked reading people nowadays, and couldn’t they simply do what they did before meeting her.
Whatever that was.
Charles’ eyes on Edwin, a warning from anything sharp that was about to leave his tongue.
Charles had had Edwin pack away a good number of their knickknacks at that point, as Crystal enjoyed bothering things in their office and had been forced to read a good number of them with a simple touch.
They were powerful, their payments, and wanted to share their stories.
There were already several Debacles of 2024 regarding this, and it was for the betterment of everyone that the worst of their collection went into storage.
Even Edwin’s favoured pen was not safe, after Crystal had grabbed it from him in the midst of note taking and caught a glimpse of his father’s backhand after Edwin had ruined an important document with its ink.
He hated how she looked following that, her wide eyes following him.
How she tried to corner him to discuss it, as if it were an event that happened recently, not long in the past and better left forgotten.
Edwin could not say he understood her urge to discuss every slight, every wrongdoing that had ever happened against them. The need to pick apart the situation until there was something there that wasn’t before.
As if absolution came from talking about it.
“It will make you feel better, you fucking priss!”
They were friends, apparently.
Edwin had not had much experience being friends with people, outside of Charles.
He had made many now, apparently.
Crystal, Monty, the Cat King.
Niko.
Despair.
It was hard to say if this was unusual treatment, for Charles had always been a special case. Had always been kinder, gentler, friendlier, than anyone Edwin had ever met.
Had allowed him space in his life, and did not expect him to be something he was not.
Had coaxed comfort into him, spoonfed love and friendship ‘till Edwin did not know what to do without it.
Had had the patience of a saint, and a heart that withstood so much more than it ever should have.
Niko had been the same. Kinder than she had any reason to be.
Perhaps Crystal’s version of friendship was the more common one.
One where you were forced to the side to make room for another, to watch as everything you valued changed, as it got cast aside for not being the right version.
Right version.
Had Edwin ever been the right version? The proper one?
The version of a friend someone was happy to have, rather than hating every moment.
Perhaps this was better, that Crystal was reminding him of his place. Reminding him that this bliss he has experienced for thirty-odd years was always temporary.
Was always bound to end.
For Edwin Payne could never hold onto something as good as Charles Rowland without ruining him.
Could never have someone like Niko Sasaki without killing them.
He already was, wasn’t he. With how he acted when Crystal first came with amnesia, then the whole of Port Townsend.
The Devlin family and Charles’ face as he was forced to fail at stopping Brandon Devlin. Forced to watch as he killed his family over and over and over again.
How Edwin had watched in terror and agony as Niko died only a few feet from him.
Bound and unable to do anything but watch.
It was awful.
But time moved on.
And when Edwin would think he was adjusting to it, getting used to Crystal’s presence, she would do something else.
Their sofa was different, their knickknacks put away.
She was putting all their cases into her, computer.
Ranting about their organization system, about how outdated it was.
How it made no sense, wouldn’t it be better to do it this way?
Couldn’t they get rid of all these case cards now?
“Can we clear out the waiting area? We can put a little kitchen there—” Crystal’s voice said, and Edwin closed his eyes as anger rushed to the forefront of his chest, as his unnecessary breath caught in his throat as he tried to shove down that wave of unpleasant emotion.
As he tried to rip away that desire to snap at Crystal, to shout. To force her to see inside his mind and how much he has hated looking at the place he once called home.
It was fear, that stopped him.
That terrified him.
The idea that he would be the thing out of place, as he always had been.
“And maybe after we get everything into the cloud we can start posting ads for supernatural creatures to find us!” Crystal had continued, her voice happy, carefree. Excited to change more of their agency.
To modernize it.
No need for the old things they once had.
“I dunno, Crystal,” Charles said, kicking his football in front of their closet, and Edwin looked up and saw the weary way he was looking at Crystal. “We get lots of ghosts coming in already, and business is never short from our walk-ins.”
“But we will have such a further reach! Like when we went to save Becky—”
Pain.
Overwhelming, all encompassing pain.
It did not end, no, not really. There was no moment in between where it calmed down, where he could catch his breath.
It was not unlike Hell.
“Think of it this way, if we weren’t across the hall from her, Niko might’ve have her fucking head exploded. We could help others like Niko!”
Edwin tried to tune her out, as he stared at his notebook in front of him, the cheap plastic of the pen Charles had found him nearly cracking from how he gripped it.
He hadn’t had to worry, with his old pen, of breaking it.
It had survived the Great War, after all. And the war after that.
Nicked from an exhibit, after Charles had asked him why he was staring at it.
“We don’t really leave England, Crystal—”
Charles had smiled at him, when he had given it to him. Wide and happy.
“But there might be more like Becky! And for that matter Niko—you guys only help those who can reach out to you! We need to get out there and find people who can’t come to you. Or maybe don’t even know about you!”
They had not gone to a museum since Crystal joined them.
Charles had said they could go during the day with her, but Crystal did not enjoy the stares that were sent her way when she talked to them.
They had not been able to get to the Greek exhibit before Crystal wanted to leave.
Edwin found he could not ask Charles if they could go alone.
That would be excluding Crystal, which he could not do.
“The supernatural community is big, we can’t be everywhere—”
“We have to try!”
“There are other people Crys, who help people—”
Edwin set down the pen, crushing his knuckles together as he tried to breathe slowly, in and out, in and out.
“But we need to be there for people, Charles! Think of how many we’re not helping ‘cause we don’t know about them!”
“We help ghosts move on—”
“Charles, you aren’t fucking listening!”
He wished Charles would stop arguing.
“I am!”
“No you aren’t!”
“Edwin, back me up here!”
Edwin opened his eyes and looked up, surprised to find both Charles and Crystal looking at him.
Waiting for something from him.
He could not even remember which of them had shouted.
Edwin did not want them looking at him.
He did not want to fight.
“Edwin?”
He was so tired—
“Edwin?” Charles’ face was blurred in an odd way, features not clear even as he seemed to get closer. “Wanna give me your hands there, mate?”
Warmth covered his hands, and gently, oh so gently, pulled them apart.
“Mate, c’mon. Can you look at me?”
A hard squeeze, that quickly released.
Again.
Squeeze.
Release.
“Mate, c’mon. You gotta breathe.”
A sharp breath.
“Crystal, get back—”
“Let me help!”
It was strange, to be touched by the living.
The way they felt like nothing, not really.
There was no warmth, or cold. No heat at all.
The touch not there, not really.
Like when one felt a web go across your face, but when you tried to brush it away, it was like it was never there.
That did not mean that that sensation left though.
The invasion of something he did not want present, shoving into his mind and knocking things about, rifling—
Searching—
“Shit!”
Edwin was used to his things being changed.
Coming home to see his mother had redecorated his room, his toys thrown out.
His books missing.
It did not get better when he went to St Hilarion’s.
He was used to pushing down his upset. Strangling the sobs that wished to leave his throat, blinking away the tears that welled in his eyes.
No one wanted to hear it. They did not care to understand.
It was Edwin who was wrong, after all.
What child got upset over such little things.
What man cried when his things were destroyed.
It did not matter in the end.
“What the Hell, Crystal!”
A gasping breath.
He was in the office.
Charles’ blurry form in front of him, Crystal sitting on the floor, looking as if she had been thrown back.
Edwin wanted to run.
He wanted to hide.
He wanted to be anywhere but here.
“I just want to help!”
“Crystal, you need to go—”
“Edwin is my friend too!”
“He doesn’t need you right now!”
It was suddenly quiet in the office.
A pin could fall and it would be clearly heard.
The street below fell silent, and all that was audible was Crystal’s heavy breathing.
Even Edwin’s thundering dead heart seemed to stop.
“What the hell?” Crystal broke the silence, her wide brown eyes looking at Charles like he had gone insane.
“Just—” Charles let out a frustrated huff, his hand brushing his hair out of his face before reluctantly turning away from Edwin. “Come back tomorrow, alright?”
Crystal stared at Charles for a second, two.
Edwin found his voice. “You should come back tomorrow.”
The two turned to Edwin.
Hide.
Run.
Hide.
Run.
“We’ll be fine,” he said quietly.
Crystal turned to Charles, then looked at Edwin through the corner of her eye.
He wished she would stop doing that.
“You can come back tomorrow, Crystal,” Charles said, almost as quiet as Edwin.
Voices hushed, like they were still in those green halls.
Edwin could see tears welling in her eyes, but he was not sure what he could do.
What he could say.
There was truly nothing that would make this better.
That would stop them from staring at Edwin like he was bound to break.
“I’ll be right back, okay?” Charles said, before he shifted to stand up.
Charles stood up, and Edwin was not sure when he had ended up on the floor.
Why they were all on the floor.
“I can help,” Crystal said quietly.
“Not now,” Charles replied, before they both got too quiet for Edwin to hear.
Alone again.
It made sense, in multiple ways.
When Edwin thought about it.
He had always been solitary.
It made sense for Charles to be drawn to Crystal.
She was living, after all.
Capable of change, in a way that Edwin couldn’t.
Edwin brought his legs up, tucking them close to himself, as he tried to piece together what had just happened.
The bits of conversation he heard, that slipped out of his hands.
Before he could make sense of it, Charles was back.
They stared at each other for a second, then two.
Three.
It felt unnatural, to not be able to talk to Charles.
For words to be hesitated, to feel them get stuck in his throat.
Hands covered his fists, which Edwin had not realized were pressed together again.
“Can you tell me what’s going on in that big brain of yours?” Charles asked, still so quietly.
Edwin opened his mouth, but still, no sound would come out.
“‘Cause,” Charles started after a couple seconds of waiting for Edwin, “you’ve been super quiet lately. Not as snarky, letting Crystal change things around here without a peep. Isn’t like you, is it?”
Edwin slowly shook his head no, letting his eyes land on the desk behind Charles, the corner that was dented from Charles’ attempts at learning how to skateboard from 1994-1998.
“We are supposed to be welcoming to Crystal,” Edwin said carefully, trying to keep his emotions tucked inward. “It would not be welcoming to say no to all her ideas, and thoughts.”
Charles wet his lips, and Edwin tried to ignore the flutter in his belly. “‘S not that black and white though, mate. You know that.”
“Is it not?” Edwin asked.
After a couple seconds, Charles opened and closed his mouth, staying silent.
“Crystal’s thoughts have been prioritized,” Edwin said carefully, delicately. “Since before Port Townsend. So I apologize that I thought the pattern was continuing.”
“Mate…”
“It is important that she feels included in the agency,” Edwin said, “We cannot do our cases as we once did, nor can we risk her feeling left out.”
“Edwin, that’s not fair,” Charles interrupted, “She’s going through a lot—you know that!”
“Which is precisely why I said nothing,” Edwin said, pulling his hands away from Charles. “There is little point in saying anything. Everything will change. I imagine Crystal will want to change the name soon as well. After she ensures our cases are in some imaginary cloud and she clears out our closet for her coats.”
“She wouldn’t do that, Edwin,” Charles said.
“Would you say something if she did?” Edwin asked genuinely.
Charles was silent, for a second, then two. “She wouldn’t, Edwin.”
“It does not matter, I suppose.” Edwin looked away from Charles. “So much has already changed since we returned to London.”
“You don’t like it, do you?” Charles asked. “Everything that’s changed since we came back.”
“I will accept it, I am sure,” Edwin said. “It does not mean I have to be happy about it.”
“This is your home too, mate, you never had trouble speaking up about changes before Crystal. Like when I wanted to plaster the walls with posters, you had no problem telling me no.”
“That was different.”
“Why?”
“Because it was the two of us, Charles.”
“What has that got to do with anything?”
“It is two against one now.”
Charles fell quiet again, starting and stopping his argument before finally landing on, “I don’t always take her side.”
“You usually do, though.” Edwin said, fingers tracing the whorls of the hardwood beneath his fingertips.
“So what, you’re just not gonna say anything to us? When you don’t like things?”
“No one will listen anyway.” Edwin said, “I shan’t waste my breath.”
“I’ll listen, Edwin,” Charles said, “You’re my best mate. And Crystal would stop, if she knew.”