Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

For a long, long while, Edwin had known many physical sensations to be a mild inconvenience, if not an outright bother.
Before he had died, there had been some small pleasures. Though he would not imagine proclaiming he would rather return to those days, he would not be entirely wrong to say he missed some of what came with being human.
Ghost hands were not nearly as perceptive as human ones; textures that were once vastly different soon blurred together, temperatures became dulled, even pain itself seemed to lose it’s bite. He found himself in a vast plane of partial nothingness, as if his entire body were nearly numb.

Occasionally, this proved useful. He did not need to worry about burning himself on natural flames, and textures that had once made him wince with discomfort were now entirely unremarkable. Edwin had grown accustomed to it all, so that he no longer thought anything of it.

That was, until he met Charles Rowland.
Edwin had lived for a few years in a state of numbness, and the years that proceeded it had been spent in hell, where there were no ‘small pleasures’ to be found. The life he had lived was long forgotten, and with it had left the memory of any comforting touch -if there had ever been much to remember-.

Thus it came as quite a shock the first time Charles touched him. It was a passing thing, a touch acquaintances might share. In fact, Edwin wasn’t sure Charles had even thought about it.
But Edwin, Edwin who had not felt such a sincere touch since he was a young, young boy, nearly flinched.

—————

The halls of St Hilarion were quiet; eerily so. In the silence, Edwin thought even his breaths sounded loud; his footsteps may as well have been the pealing school bell. Surely someone would hear them, would find them. Had he a heart in his chest, it would be pounding.
But of course, nobody could hear them. Nobody living, anyway. Edwin leaned against the shelves behind him, upon which old cleaning equipment had been left to collect dust. He inhaled slowly, if only to feel the vaguely comforting sensation of filling his lungs.

Running always sent him to panic. And when he knew he was running from Death, who could send him to hell again-
Edwin opened his eyes, needing desperately to be sure he was not in that terrible, terrible hallway.

And before him stood Charles.

Charles had left the door ajar when he came into the broom closet they found themselves in, allowing a faint sliver of light to fall upon his face. Edwin could just see the breathless smile on the boy’s face, his cold-induced exhaustion quickly gone in favour of a boyish excitement that Edwin could not seem to believe was directed at him.

“Is being a ghost always this… weightless?” Charles asked, and Edwin nodded weakly.

“Yes. Technically, you have no mass at all now.” Edwin replied, grasping at the chance to explain something he knew.

Charles turned in a slow circle, brushing his fingers along the wall as he did. Once he had turned back to face Edwin, his eyebrows were furrowed.
“‘Can’t feel anything… ever?” He said, the enthusiasm in his voice replaced with unease.

“Never.” Edwin replied. “You cannot… smell, either. Or… taste.”

The air huffed out of Charles’s lungs, and, as if on instinct, the ghost reached out, his hand finding Edwin’s hands where he had been holding them in front of himself.

It was as if a blinding torch had been lit in a room that had not seen light in years. Even through his clothing, Edwin felt the touch with a searing warmth, a solidity that he had not believed to be possible.
The whole world was made of shadows, surely, and here, now was the only thing that was real. Charles, his smile now returned, his touch on Edwin’s skin.

Edwin snatched his hands back, his lungs suddenly demanding far more air than he could give them. He must have looked horrified, because Charles stepped back.

“Sorry, mate. I didn’t- Won’t try that again.” Charles said.

“Right.” Edwin breathed. “Yes.”

Chapter Text

Slowly, very slowly, Edwin became used to having Charles in his life.

At first, the boy’s presence was an irritant unlike nothing else. He was loud, and outgoing. He seemed to always be right where Edwin didn’t want him, behaving like a fool when Edwin was already at the end of his tether.
Often, Edwin would find his thoughts constantly being interrupted by the presence of Charles. He was impossibly distracting, and inexplicably frustrating, especially to Edwin, who was so very particular about the way things were.

Slowly, Edwin became familiar with the presence of Charles. He no longer felt like a jagged edge forced into his life, but rather a well-worn comfort.
They learned when one another would really rather be left alone, and strangely, Edwin even learned that on more occasions than he ever would have imagined, he much preferred that Charles was there.
The two began to carve out a sort of life in their afterlife. They bought an apartment with fake id’s, and started their detective business.
Charles began to start calling them the brains and the brawn, though Edwin always chuckled at the latter half.

By that time, Edwin nearly didn’t notice Charles when they were at home.
Nearly.

Occasionally Edwin’s mind would wander as he worked, or read, and he would come to to find his gaze on Charles.
Charles would never be doing anything of much interest, nothing worthy of drawing attention.
Edwin could never look away.

-Sight-
Edwin had hated summer when he was alive, but as a ghost the heat was no longer so stifling, and he was free to enjoy the long days with only a faint whisper of the telltale summer heat on occasion.
It was afternoon now, the heat had died down to a pleasant warmth, and the sun was casting a brilliant golden light across Charles’ and his home, bringing with it a breeze that just barely managed to ruffle Edwin’s ghostly hair.

Edwin was sat at his desk, poring over a book on magical botany that he was not entirely sure was accurate, but that he couldn’t possibly allow himself to leave unfinished.
As he struggled over a paragraph so convoluted and vague he wasn’t so sure the author had a point at all, Edwin found his gaze wandering across the room.
The last throes of sunlight drifted like gauze across it, bringing a sort of warmth to everything, as if the room had been gilded.

Edwin’s gaze followed the light to the corner of the room, where a small couch Charles had insisted upon buying sat mostly out of the way. Charles enjoyed ‘naps’ in the afternoon, and simply wouldn’t do it sitting in a chair, so Edwin had obliged him, and they had bought a couch together.
It was much too short for either of them; Charles’s legs hung over the armrests, but he managed to look casually comfortable nonetheless.
An arm lay lazily across his chest, the other hand loosely gripping the top of the couch.

If Edwin squinted, he could almost believe Charles was alive. He could imagine the heartbeat he may have, the way his sun-warmed skin may feel, the way his breathing would slow as he slept.
Charles didn’t have any of that, but Edwin thought he may have been better off for it. There was a grace to him, a subtle ghostly glow that Edwin wasn’t sure anybody else could see.

He was, in a sense, almost more solid than anything else. It was an exhilarating feeling, to look at someone that was so very clear to him. Someone that he could speak to, and touch.
Edwin glanced up at Charles’s face, to find his eyes were open, watching Edwin in return.

A sharp panic spiked through Edwin, feeling far too visceral for the lack-of-a-body he had. He averted his gaze quickly; an odd shame coming over him as if he had been caught misbehaving.
Charles said nothing, but Edwin couldn’t shake the strange feeling in his chest, as if the heart he did not have was pounding.

He returned to the book, now determined to keep his eyes solely on the pages.

“Hey mate?” Charles said casually, and Edwin very nearly jumped.

“Yes?” He replied in a tone that was entirely nonplussed, despite himself.

Edwin heard the faint rustle of clothing as Charles stood, and crossed the room to Edwin’s desk.
“Difficult book?” Charles asked, and Edwin nodded. “Can I help?”

“I highly doubt you’d be of much help understanding this, Charles,” Edwin said, only slightly sharper than he had intended.

Thankfully, Charles merely laughed and took a seat on the desk.
“How about you explain it to me then? That usually helps, yeah? You figure things out.”

Edwin finally looked up. The sun had caught itself in Charles’s hair, turning his curls to strands of golden thread.

“That… that may help, yes.” Edwin said eventually.

Charles grinned, and Edwin’s body again made an attempt at a pounding heart.

Edwin thought that perhaps, this was a mystery he would keep to himself.