Chapter Text
Charles knew Edwin didn't care for touch. He knew that. He'd known it since a few days after he'd died, when Edwin had become stiff as a board when Charles had thrown an arm over his shoulders. Edwin didn't care for touch, and so Charles didn't touch him.
Not at first, at least.
Slowly, over the decades, Edwin had warmed up to Charles casually touching him. First, it was that he no longer flinched when Charles accidentally brushed against him. Then, he'd only hesitated for a moment when Charles had held out a hand to help him off the floor when a particularly nasty ghost had knocked him flat. Eventually he only let out a sigh when Charles rested a hand on his shoulder or nudged him to get his attention, and after some time he didn't even sigh anymore but rather just let it happen. At some point, Charles caught a hint of a smile and noticed that Edwin even leaned into the touch a little bit. After a full decade had passed, Charles noticed that Edwin no longer pulled away when Charles grabbed his wrist as they ran or when he decided it was time for Edwin to be pulled away from his books. It was around the same time that he realized that Edwin sometimes even touched him first. Usually it was to nudge him away or simply a light touch on his arm to get his attention, but it was progress.
It was a decade and a half when Charles let his thoughts get the better of him and pulled Edwin into a hug for the first time in their friendship; it had only been a few seconds before he'd realized what he'd done and he was so ready to pull away and apologize profusely, but then Edwin had hugged him back.
After that, Edwin had been a lot more open to Charles touching him. It became a natural part of their relationship, the way Charles would nudge Edwin with his knee or foot in admonishment, sitting in his usual spot on the corner of the desk as a client told them their story and got a sassy remark back from Edwin; the way Charles would sometimes rest a hand on his arm to get his attention. Edwin would sit reading a book, and Charles would come up behind him and rest his chin on Edwin's shoulder; Edwin would sigh as though annoyed, but the flipping of the pages would slow as he allowed Charles to catch up. Sometimes they'd share the couch and Charles would risk placing his legs into Edwin's lap, or sometimes Edwin would do something particularly clever and Charles would pat him on the back or squeeze his arm, and the other boy wouldn't push him away, even if he grew a little stiff under the affection. He allowed Charles to grip his shoulders when they faced each other as he tried to explain once again why he'd feel much better if Edwin learned to defend himself at least a little.
It was two decades before Edwin truly , for the first time, initiated touch. There had been the weak, light ones of before, but this was different. This was Edwin getting excited about something he'd read in their newest tome and deliberately reaching out, grabbing Charles’ arm, and pulling him into look at it until they stood side by side, until they were pressed together. And Edwin didn't even let go of his arm the entire time he'd excitedly explained something Charles couldn't even remember.
After that, casual touches became more common from both sides. Now, they'd reach for each other as they ran from some crazy thing on their case of the week. Edwin would turn to whisper something to Charles they didn't want the client hearing, and their shoulders would be pressed together. When he was reading and Charles would wander over, Edwin almost looked expectant that Charles would begin leaning over him or resting on him as he tried to follow along and then inevitably got bored, content to instead just exist in the same space as his best friend. Some ghoul would explode over them and Edwin would reach out to help Charles clean off his coat, fixing his collar or straightening out a pin along the way.
Even still, even with Edwin growing so much more used to the way Charles loved touch and going as far to initiate it once in a while, touch wasn't a complete free for all. He may have grown comfortable in their years and years of friendship and partnership, but Edwin still had boundaries. He had limits to how long he would let Charles drape over him before a tenseness grew in him and Charles knew it was time to back away. There were days Edwin would give Charles a particular look when he began to approach and he knew that it meant while Edwin may allow him to be in his personal space, actually touching was off limits. Sometimes, they went near a week without so much as brushing against each other, let alone properly touching. And Heaven forbid if a stranger tried to touch him; Edwin would get this look on his face, and he could range anywhere from growing snippy and rude with whoever had done it, to near shutting down completely. And it wasn't that Edwin couldn't handle it all the time; when it was necessary, he became the picture of professionalism and powered through it, or if someone was in need of help, he would reach out to help, even if a grimace crossed his face while doing so.
But if someone startled him with a touch, especially if they did so from behind where Edwin couldn't even see they'd been there, Charles' hands would itch for his cricket bat as he told the person off harshly. He'd rather die all over again then see the look of fear that would always cross Edwin's face, as though he were right back to his schoolmates waking him up and manhandling him to be tied down.
So in the decades they'd known each other, become best friends, started the agency together, and grown so inseparable they'd made promise after promise that Death herself would never separate them, touch eventually became a fairly normal part of their relationship. But Charles knew that Edwin still didn't exactly care for touch. He himself threw casual touches around as much as he did smiles, and he was often wanting to touch his best friend in some way, but he kept it reserved. He learned when Edwin would welcome it and when he wouldn't.
During their time in Port Townsend, however, he’d had this itching feeling in his brain that Edwin was stuck in a phase of absolutely not welcoming it. It hadn't been cut out completely, but Charles had felt hesitant about it in a way he hadn't since they'd first met. Edwin had been hiding things from him, and he'd been hiding things right back.
Crystal had been a saving grace in more ways than one. She never pulled away from his touch and actively leaned into it or initiated it. Kissing her had been downright wonderful, even if that had had a stop put to it near immediately. Her touches were comforting and relieving and he reveled in it.
It never made up for the lack of touch between himself and Edwin, but it was something bright and new despite everything going on around him.
The last kiss he'd shared with Crystal had been before Esther had blown up Jenny's shop. Since then, Edwin had been tortured again, Niko had come so close to dying they'd been sure she wouldn't make it, they'd gone back to London, become semi-official employees of the Lost & Found Department, Crystal and Niko had flown to London and were becoming a permanent fixture of the Dead Boy Detectives Agency, and things were finally getting back to normal. He and Crystal had decided, after everything, that their short-lived romance would be best to stay short-lived. They were better off as friends, considering one of them was a non-aging ghost and the other was a living girl trying to manage her powers and the rediscovery of a life not suitable to any romantic relationship right now. They were both more than okay with that, though.
Overall, things were happy and good and relatively normal.
His and Edwin's hug after being told that they could truly, finally stay together without fear seemed to officially erase all the space between them, thankfully. Charles was sure it had been the best hug he'd had in his life and afterlife combined, what with the way he swore he could feel it in his soul. Charles had no hesitation falling right back into the casual touches their relationship had grown used to. It was good. He should be perfectly happy. They no longer had to run and were properly safe for the first time in three decades, the air between them had cleared, he had Edwin and Crystal and Niko all by his side.
And yet. . .
He knew Edwin didn't care for touch. In the long run, he was the only person who got to truly touch Edwin, though Niko was a close second. He'd learned that he needed to be reserved with his touch when it came to his best friend.
And yet. . .
Since they'd fallen out of hell, the Night Nurse slamming the door on the awful baby doll demon behind them, Charles had been itching to touch Edwin. And it wasn't like his usual touch-oriented personality just wishing to have some sort of contact. He could control that easily enough after all this time.
No, this was something different.
This felt like a desperation. A need to be in Edwin's personal space, to keep his hands on him. He wanted to wrap his best friend in a hug and never let go, he wanted to sit as close as possible as they heard a new case. He wanted to take Niko’s place as she grabbed Edwin's hand to drag him to watch another one of her shows. He wanted to tuck Edwin against him as they sat on the couch. He would wrap an arm around Crystal and wish it was Edwin, who was merely across the room. And along with it came the staring. If they were in the same room, his eyes were on Edwin more often than they weren't. If they weren't in the same room, Charles would be sure to know exactly where his friend was and his eyes would flitter around until they were back together and he could see Edwin for himself. When he was touching Edwin, he never wanted it to end. His grip on his best friend's arm lingered for much longer, and maybe he rested his arm on Edwin's shoulder a few more times a day than he usually would. His hands would twitch whenever Edwin was in the right distance for him to reach out and come in contact with him.
But he couldn't be acting on it; he simply couldn't be in contact with Edwin all day like he wished. Because Edwin didn't care for touch. He wouldn't welcome this new clinginess from Charles. He'd probably think Charles insane. He'd start pulling away again, and Charles was not going to let that happen again. So he tried to control it. Tried to shove this almost painful desperation to touch his friend down as far as he could so that everything could just return to normal. He didn’t know what it all meant. He didn’t know if it had something to do with what Edwin had told him on the stairs. He didn’t think it did.
He’d told Edwin that it wouldn’t change anything between them, that they had plenty of time to figure things out and he’d meant it. He didn’t want Edwin to think any differently just because Charles was struggling to manage himself. Besides, so far they hadn't talked about it, and Edwin seemed perfectly content with that. Charles didn't want to mess that up.
In the end, it took him a week of this to realize what it was. Why he felt like he couldn't function when Edwin wasn't close to him. Why he'd felt irked one day when Crystal had realized that Charles was just waiting for Edwin to come back from a trip to a shop with Niko and made a joke about how “codependent" they were.
In the end, it took one mention from the Night Nurse. One mention during a rant where she once again expressed her never-ending annoyance for being stuck on this plane with “these insolent boys”. One mention of how much paperwork she’d had to fill out because she’d opened a door to Hell for them.
After the two of them hadn’t been talking about it, after they were just ignoring it for now and trying to get back to normal, she had just dropped the reminder of Hell right on top of Charles. And he immediately knew.
She said that word and something in his chest just seized. He’d felt lightheaded, which was a true feat for a ghost. The edges of his vision had gone black, and that overwhelming need to be in contact with Edwin washed over him to the point that his arm involuntarily jerked as if reaching out to Edwin, who was across the room, ignoring the Night Nurse’s rant in favor of reading an encyclopedia of poisonous fungi.
If he’d been alive, if he’d actually needed to breathe, he was sure the air he’d sharply sucked in would have come with a wheezing sound. Charles’ eyes were blown wide as the sounds of Scottish ranting faded out and his focus was solely on Edwin. He needed to keep his eyes on Edwin.
Because if he didn’t. . .
If he didn’t have the ability to reach out and touch him. . .
The last time he had stepped away from his best friend and taken his eyes off him, Edwin had been ripped away from him before he’d even had a chance to blink. He’d found him, only for Edwin to be pulled away once more. He’d found him again, only to turn around and watch a version of his best friend being torn to shreds. He’d gotten two steps ahead of him in the Lust room and Edwin had almost gotten pulled right back in. Then they’d gotten out and felt safe, if only for a day, only for a witch to come snatch them up, chaining Charles in her kitchen to listen to the way Edwin screamed while Charles was helpless to get to him.
Four times. Four times, one right after the other, that Edwin had been ripped away from him and Charles hadn’t been sure he’d be able to get him back. Four times when, if he’d still been alive, fear would have stopped his heart completely.
And now that they were finally safe, with no risk of Hell coming for them, Charles was sitting here, trying to be happy about it all, trying to get back to normal, and he couldn’t trust it. Because their time in Port Townsend had proved to him again and again that as hard as he tries, Edwin can be taken away from him. He can and he has been. Four times in just the past few weeks.
And the fear of that was gripping his mind and body and he couldn’t relax. He needed to know where Edwin was, he needed to be able to feel that he was real. Because he couldn’t go through it again. He couldn’t watch the most important person in the world to him be ripped away and made to suffer. And if it happened again- the thought made him shudder- he needed to be right next to Edwin to ensure that they didn’t get separated. If Edwin got dragged back to Hell, Charles wouldn’t be going after him- he’d be right with him. Edwin wasn’t going without him. So he needed to keep an eye on him. He needed to be next to him and holding on tight.
With everything they’d ever been through, every case and every time they'd run from Death and everything in Port Townsend and going down to Hell, Charles wasn’t sure he’d ever been so on edge. He’d always known, in the back of his mind, that losing Edwin was a possibility, and that their luck couldn’t actually last forever, but he’d always been able to shove that thought to the back of his head. He’d been able to ignore it.
But now it was real. Now he’d had to go through it. Now it was at the very forefront of his mind. He couldn’t ignore it, even as Edwin and their friends relaxed and calmed around him, no longer worried about all the dangers they’d faced in the last weeks. Charles wanted to be like them. He wanted to feel safe.
Yet here he was. Terrified out of his fucking mind.
He couldn’t lose Edwin again. He just couldn’t. He wouldn’t let it happen.