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Edwin looks up from his book, smiling as he watches Charles play. He usually plays without speaking aloud, something that Edwin is always reassuring him he can do if he wants to, so he’s not really sure what’s going on, but it’s entertaining none the less.
He slips his bookmark back into his book and stands, coming to crouch next to Charles on the floor.
“Well, what’s going on here, love?” Charles hums, always happy to hear one of Edwin’s nicknames.
“They’re having dinner!” He reports happily, and Edwin huffs in amusement. He gestures to another toy who’s set aside from the two that were supposedly eating together.
“And what’s going on with this one?” Charles shrugs.
“He’s in the basement.” Edwin is hit with a cold sense of dread. He furrows his eyebrows, trying not to jump to conclusions. Maybe it’s something completely unrelated.
“Should he not be having dinner with everyone else?” Charles shakes his head, staring at the innocently smiling toy with contempt.
“No, he broke the rules. He doesn’t get to have dinner.” Edwin repositions himself to be sitting fully on the floor. He’s going to need it for this conversation.
“I’m sure he didn’t do anything to warrant that. What rule did he break?” Charles looks back at the two toys that Edwin now believes are representing his parents.
“He broke one of his mum’s fancy glasses. Should’ve been more careful.” Edwin winces.
“Well, it sounds like it was just an accident.” He takes the toy and sets him at the table.
“I think he should still get to have dinner.” Charles gasps and quickly moves the toy back.
“No! His dad will be really mad if he does that! He’s supposed to stay in the basement until he lets him out.”
“He doesn’t sound like a very good father to me, then, if he would let his child go hungry over a simple mistake.” Charles clenches his fists nervously.
“Doesn’t matter. That’s just how it is.” Edwin raises an eyebrow.
“It doesn’t have to be. Perhaps we could do this instead.” He takes the boy and puts him at the table, then takes the father and chucks him across the room. Charles gapes at him in shock.
“But… but you can’t just do that!”
“Why not? Maybe his mother saw what he was doing and realized that she didn’t want to live with somebody like that. So, she threw him out, and now the two of them are allowed to have dinner together.” Charles looks at the two toys, smiling together, then to the other one, now thrown across the room. His eyes start to fill with tears, and he looks at Edwin.
“Was that always an option?” Edwin sighs.
“It was.” Charles’s lip starts to wobble.
“Then why didn’t she make him leave?” He wails, falling forward into Edwin’s arms. Edwin, of course, catches him, clutching him to his chest.
“I don’t know, Charles. I don’t know.”
“He was hurting me, and she didn’t do anything! She just watched!” Edwin holds him tighter, tears starting to form in his own eyes. He thinks he’ll never get over it, the fact that Charles spent so much time being hurt in his own home. It kills him again every time he’s reminded of it.
“I’m so sorry, my dear. It was never your fault. It was theirs. They were supposed to keep you safe.” Charles looks back at the two figures in the mock kitchen, his eyes still full of tears. He takes the one representing his mother and throws her away, too.
“I hate her! I hate that she didn’t do anything! She just stood there and watched!” He buries his face back in Edwin’s chest, and his heart just breaks. Charles never speaks ill of his mother. He’s always coming up with reasons to justify her neglect.
Realistically, Edwin knew that some part of him must be harboring these feelings, unbeknownst even to himself. It’s another thing entirely, however, to see it. To hear him cry and curse his mother, especially knowing that it took mentally regressing back to that age again for him to realize these feelings. It is altogether heart wrenching to witness.
“And I hate myself for hating her! And for being just like my dad! I don’t wanna be like this!” And if Edwin thought Charles’s breakdown was devastating before, he had another thing coming. He clutches him closer to his chest, stroking his back in an attempt to soothe him.
“You are not at fault for hating a woman who ignored you when your father was beating you, and you are certainly nothing like that wretched man.” He says sternly. “You are a lovely, kind boy who has been hurt by people who couldn’t even imagine being as wonderful as you are. You are not wrong to be angry about that.” Charles doesn’t respond, continuing to sniffle and sob, though his tears seem to be easing in intensity.
Edwin chooses to let the silence be. He understands, maybe more than most, needing a moment to collect one’s self. He rests a hand on Charles’s head, running his hand through his curls, smiling when he lets out a little sigh of contentment.
They sit like that for a while. Edwin doesn’t bother keeping track of time. He’s happy to stay there forever if that’s what Charles needs, detective agency be damned. Eventually, though, he lifts his head, a sheepish look on his face.
“Sorry.” Edwin smiles, placing his hands on Charles’s cheeks to wipe the remainder of his tears away.
“You do not need to be sorry for feeling big feelings. It is perfectly normal for very little boys like yourself to be overwhelmed sometimes.” As expected, Charles turns his head away. He always gets adorably shy when Edwin calls attention to his headspace.
In an attempt to ignore him, he turns to the one toy still remaining at the table and frowns.
“He’s all alone now.” He says sadly, and that certainly will not do. Edwin digs out in the small basket of toys they’ve collected over the years, pulling out another figure with brown hair and a familiar blue bow tie. He sets it next to the other one.
“There we are. He’s not alone any longer.” Charles lights up, arranging the toys in a way that quite obviously mimics their office.
“They’re ghost detectives, like us! They solve mysteries!” He launches into an animated story, involving many new characters and a barely followable plot. Edwin adds his input every now and then, resisting the urge to correct his interpretations of how magic works.
He thinks about how lucky he is, to get to spend an eternity with the loveliest boy he’s ever had the pleasure to meet. Who trusts him enough to let his guard down and tell him his feelings, and who loves him enough to take his reassurance at face value despite years of mistreatment telling him not to.
Yes, he decides. He will be eternally grateful that fate led him here.
He would do all of it over again for Charles Rowland.