Chapter Text
The kitchen was graced with a full English breakfast, the door ajar to the right afforded a glimpse of Charle’s closed bedroom door. Edwin couldn’t sleep; he tried to write, to untangle his feelings into something coherent. But nothing made sense. So here he was, preparing food he had no appetite for. Charles had kissed him. It wasn’t a figment of his imagination. Maybe if he had gone to bed, he could have dismissed it all as a dream, inconsequential. But it wasn’t. Charles had kissed him.
Charles hadn’t come out from his room yet, but Edwin knew his morning routine like the back of his hand. With his job at the telephone company starting promptly at 8 a.m., Charles was up and about by 6, give or take a few minutes of snooze time. Typically, Charles would drag himself out of bed around 6:15, just after the alarm's first annoying ring. Edwin could hear the shuffle to the bathroom, likely still half-asleep. By 6:30, the kitchen would be infused with the aroma of coffee, courtesy of Edwin. While Charles devoured his beans on toast by 7, Edwin would linger in the kitchen, content to have contributed to the morning caffeine ritual.
It was 6:25, and still no sign of Charles. Edwin had cooked sausages, fried bacon, and eggs sunny-side-up. He had even served baked beans, though their texture revolted him. He had wanted to do something nice for Charles, but now it felt excessive. "Is this a ‘thank you for kissing me’ breakfast? A ‘sorry for not kissing you back’ meal?" It was ridiculous. He was mortified to face Charles, yet he yearned to see him now. Why hadn’t Charles come out of his room already? He'd be late for work.
"Maybe he needs time, space. I wouldn't want to make him more uncomfortable." Edwin set a plate on the small kitchen table and tentatively approached Charles’s door. He knocked twice.
“Charles? Good morning, I—”
“I made you some breakfast; it’s there for you.” Edwin slid his hand slowly across the door and pressed his ear to the wood. "I'm heading to my room now. Just let me know if you need anything.” He could only hear the rustle of bedsheets and the sound of his loafers on the floor. Before he could step back towards his room, the door swung open abruptly. Charles stood just centimetres away, their faces close.
“Oh, hi Charles! Sorry, I—I didn't want to disturb you.” Edwin stumbled over his words. Charles looked him squarely in the eye, his demeanour serious and composed. He wore a dark burgundy polo and his usual Harrington jacket, but today, no eyeliner, no cross earring, no smile. “I made some breakfast, though I think I might have made too much.”
Edwin rarely smiled so earnestly. Perhaps he was trying to mirror Charles, to evoke the familiar comfort of their usual interactions.
“Thanks, mate, but I really have to dash. I’m sorry.” Charles’s voice was quiet, almost as if he were speaking to himself.
“Are you sure? It’s not even 7 o'clock yet…” Edwin glanced at his watch. Why was Charles pushing him away?
“Yeah, mate, I’m just—just looking for a new job.” Charles rushed out his words, his whole body seeming eager to leave. “The whole telephone company thing pays, but I’m not keen on dealing with rude people all day and such.” Charles began pacing around the flat, searching for his keys.
Edwin remained rooted by Charles’s doorway, once again paralyzed. Why had Charles kissed him yesterday? Had it been out of pity? Would he act as though nothing had happened? Edwin needed to say something.
“Charles! I just wanted to say, if you need to talk about last night—”
“Nah, forget about it. I just—I just need to get out now. That’s all.” Charles cut him off, swinging the door open just to reveal someone standing behind it. Monty stood there, hand poised to knock, an expression of mild surprise on his face.
“Oh—sorry! Hi! Niko let me in. I know it’s early, but I was on my way to uni and came to return your book.” Charles frowned slightly in annoyance, pressing his lips. Edwin felt as if he’d rather be in hell than in this situation. “Oh, sorry, am I interrupting something?” Monty asked, sensing his presence unwelcomed.
“Oh, no, not at all. Thank you.” Edwin stepped forward to take the book from Monty. He watched as his flatmate distanced himself, retreating further and further.
“I loved it. It was beautiful and actually really funny,” Monty chuckled.
“Yes, *Valley of the Dolls* is quite the modern classic. Thanks for dropping by. Charles was—”
“Just leaving.” Charles cut in. “Sorry, in a rush. See you later.” He said it with his back to them, as though he were already gone. He slammed the door on his exit.
“Is he okay? I’ve had this feeling since yesterday that he doesn’t care much for me, you know?” Monty mentioned, his bright eyes clouding with concern.
“I don’t think that’s true. Charles is usually quite sociable. He just seems to be going through something…” Edwin felt conflicted. He liked Monty; Monty was present, straightforward. He didn’t know him well, but he wasn’t acting oddly.
“Maybe he’s jealous. I wouldn’t blame him.” Monty looks at him up and down,with a permanent smile etched on his face.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Monty. He’s just my flatmate.” A flatmate he had kissed. Maybe Edwin had imagined it all. Maybe it was just writer’s block hysteria.
“Right…” Monty seemed dubious, but his eyes remained bright. “So, are you free this afternoon? Do you wanna go for a walk? Maybe to the park?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I have a tight deadline…” Why did Edwin always isolate himself from the world? Why live in a fantasy, setting himself up for impossible situations? Here was a boy with starry eyes, sharp as a tack, kind and open with him. Why say no? Why be the same antisocial recluse who dreams of things that would never happen?
“...but a walk does sound lovely, actually.”
Monty tilted his head slightly, his jet black wavy hair framing his face.
“Sounds like a date. I’ve got an ornithology class now. Shall we meet at 5 o'clock?”
Monty departed swiftly, leaving Edwin alone again. He glanced at the breakfast laid out on the table, now cold. He marched over aggressively, dumping everything into the bin. He wanted to drown in his embarrassment once more.
He sank back onto the couch, the same couch Charles had sat on when he first entered Edwin’s life. The sofa where they’d watched movies. The sofa where they kissed. Edwin contemplated how he’d never felt so "homeless". It seemed absurd to feel that way within four walls, but he realised he’d never had a true home to return to. Never had one as a child. For a fleeting moment, he’d felt like he’d found one with Charles.
He sat there for a while, staring at his yellow paged notebook as it stared back at him, inviting him to write. Retrieving his lucky pen from his vest pocket, he made a list titled Benjamin Withrow’s ideal partner:
- a free spirit
- kind-hearted
- faithful
- opinionated
- always sees the bright side
- compassionate
- gentle
- loves him the way I love Charles
He traced a small line through that last point, flipped the notebook over, and tucked it under a crocheted cushion. He wants his brain to stop.
The day dragged on, and Monty returned. Edwin already felt guilty about leading him on. They strolled through the London streets together. Monty talked incessantly, sharing everything he’d learned in class. He was studying biology and aiming to specialise in birds. Monty couldn’t resist talking all about Corvid Thanatology—the practice of crows performing little rituals upon finding a dead crow. It was fascinating, but Edwin felt guilty for not being present, not feeling as he thought he should.
They eventually reached an empty park bench. The atmosphere was humid and overcast, unusually quiet save for distant dog barks.
“Sorry if I talk too much. When I like something it's all I can think about. Come on, tell me something about yourself.” Monty chuckled softly.
“I don't know if that is a good idea. I find it difficult to say anything cheerful.” admits Edwin
“I didn't say cheerful, I said something about you,” Monty corrected gently.
He hesitates first before talking “I’ve been pondering something lately… Since I was young, I’ve felt that there’s been a glass wall between me and the world. I can see the others, observe them interacting, but I'm on the outside, unable to touch anyone. For the longest time, I was fine with that. I didn't see the value in connecting. But just recently, I thought someone else had also seen me. Apparently, though, it’s not enough to break through that glass.” Edwin sighed, feeling as though he’d unburdened himself of something heavy.
Monty took Edwin’s hand gently, meeting his eyes and tilting his head.
“I really don’t know you that well, but I can see this in your eyes” He pauses, as if afraid of what he is going to say. “You crave love so deeply, why won’t you let yourself accept some of it?”
Edwin’s throat tightened.
“Wow, I'm sorry. That was too intense.” Monty nervously laughed.
“Listen, Monty, you’re a wonderful person, and I care a lot about you. But I love you as a friend, and I hope you understand that.” Edwin prays to the universe so that Monty doesn't hate him, so that he finds someone who truly loves him back.
They didn’t hug, but they exchanged a look that conveyed understanding. Edwin pressed a small kiss on his cheek before saying goodbye.
He walked home slowly, feeling somewhat better but still anxious about facing the boy he truly fancied. He contemplated giving him space, but Edwin needed to talk. He didn't care if Charles didn’t feel the same; he just needed to hear it. Unlocking the outer door with his key, Edwin ascended the wooden stairs quietly. As he reached the landing below his flat, he spotted Charles embracing Crystal, his face buried in her curly hair. Edwin noticed Crystal rubbing his back with her hand, just as Charles had done to him yesterday.
Pausing briefly, Edwin felt a mix of emotions—surprise, a pang of hurt, and a tinge of jealousy. It was becoming clear where he stood with his flatmate. He lingered for a moment, quietly observing, before turning towards his own door.
He understood now. He was Charles’s Monty.
