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Chapter Text

To others, there was something off with Edwin. 

It wasn’t just a vague feeling; it was as if there was a cloud of sorrow surrounding him, an invisible force that made others miserable. 

He was strange in how he acted, too rigid at times, or overly animated when he spoke of his passions. Conversations with him had a tendency to drift into unusual territory, touching on topics that left others puzzled or uncomfortable. There was a heaviness in his presence, a lingering shadow that seemed to wrap around him like a well-worn cloak. 

Edwin ended up finding solace in his solitude. While loneliness was a heavy burden for him, he still embraced it. Forced to wrap his arms around a feeling he would never escape, one he was perfectly aware of why. 

Edwin had always been aware of the distance between himself and those around him, a nagging sense that he existed in a separate realm. It was hard not to know. While others might have been consumed with shock or horror at the events they read, Edwin found himself captivated by the raw emotions and complexity of tragedy. He had a fondness of the darkness that others shied away from. The art of pain was one so incredibly ignored but Edwin had been fascinated by it, drinking more than his fill of sorrow. He lived for the stories of lovers torn apart only to be reunited through violence, the heartache that twisted into peaceful death. 

But it had been mysteries that truly stole his heart. Detective novels became his haven, their intricate plots and clever twists provided an escape from his enchanting life of pain and sadness. Even in these stories, Edwin sought the tragedy lurking. A skilled author could wryly sketch out the paradoxes of human nature, leaving the reader to ponder the darker truths hidden. For Edwin tragedy was more than just a theme; it was a lens which he viewed life. Shaping his understanding of joy and sorrow, blurred the lines. 

While his schoolmates had reveled in laughter, Edwin had been enchanted by the unsettling. This was one of the reasons Edwin had been targeted and eventually murdered. He was seen as a harbinger of pain and sorrow. On top of the assumptions of his sexuality and unusualness. And perhaps it was their misunderstanding that made him so tragically unique; he was born from pain and as a Payne, it was those that mapped his own tragic fate. 

It hadn’t changed until Charles. 

Charles had helped teach him the beauty in joy, the glee in laughter. Edwin had only ever really learned how to live long after his death. Charles had a way of illuminating the joy that often seemed beyond Edwin’s reach. Their moments together were filled with genuine laughter. For Edwin, who had spent his life drowning in pain and self-doubt, it was a breath of fresh air. Charles was warmth and acceptance, it was as if Charles could see though the layers of anguish, recognizing the person beneath the coldness and sorrow. 

But of course Edwin would find happiness in Charles, another with a tragic tale. 

While Edwin had always felt like a shadow, someone defined by a tragic narrative, Charles embraced him as he was, free from judgement. He would sit with Edwin, eager to drive into discussions about his favourite detective novels or the intricacies of a cursed ring, never turning away from the depths of Edwin’s interest. Charles had been the second person who had accepted his quirks and queerness. His father, though Edwin had very little memories of the man now, had gleefully bragged about Edwin.  

Charles never thought he was an omen of sorrow, to Charles he was just Edwin. Charles’s presence was a beacon of hope, a lantern of joy. 

He couldn’t help but find it somewhat beautiful that he didn't start living until he was dead. 

Charles also helped in terms of social interaction, Edwin had a habit of not seeing how bad things for others were, so Charles would correct him and explain things Edwin didn't understand. He’d do it firmly but with kindness with the knowledge that Edwin never meant anything harsh, he just did not understand. That is what Edwin liked most about Charles. 

Charles had made Edwin’s story into something more than a tragedy and that had brought something called Happiness along with it. 

Then Port Townsend. Then he went back to Hell and even while most of his thoughts were preoccupied with ‘run run run run run don’t let it get you’ he still knew that he would be called upon for the very reason he wore sorrow like a well-worn shirt. It seemed that due to who mothered him he was doomed to pain. 

He saw Simon. Once of his killers, all he had for pain was fucking papercuts . A lifetime of fucking papercuts while he got passed around between demons before landing on this fucking thing. He could of coped with being stuck on a music box, he could of coped slightly worse with the blindness and torture at random but he did not cope well with the fucking abomination that was a spider made of doll heads desperate to kill and fucking eat him. 

He saw the change in the mirror and knew he was being called. He took a breath and dipped into it, entering the familiar domain. 

Mirrors were everywhere, stretching as far as the eye could see, the bright white of the room was blinding. Here she sat, kneeled next to the mirror Edwin had entered from, focused on the scene, relishing in the suffering of Simon. He’d known he’d be called. 

“Hello, Mother.” Edwin’s voice was calm, a sharp contrast to the thoughts swirling in his mind. He looked at his mother, wondering why she had summoned him this time. 

“It has been a while, Edwin Payne,” she responded, her tone dull, as if discussing the weather. Her head snapped in his direction, her dull grey eyes scrutinising his face, seeking something, anything. 

“What do you want?” Edwin spat the words laced with brittle resentment. 

“Only to catch up with my son.” her head turned back to the mirror, she was focused on Simon, one of his killers. He could sense her enjoyment, the way she savoured every drop of agony that he experienced. “I thought you’d like to know that I’ve been watching this one.” her words dripped with a twisted sense of pride. 

“He's been tearing pages from that silly book for almost 40,000 days and nights now,” she went on, her voice a whisper. The ring on her finger, a hook sharp and glistening, pressed harshly into her palm, mirroring the torment of Simon. 

“And every second is a tiny, forever ache, and blood, and suffering. Isn't it beautiful? Can't you just taste it?” Her eyes never left Simon, lost in the pleasure of his pain. 

“He did not kno-”

“I was enjoying watching you gloat,” she interrupted crisply, her impatience evident. “I have not seen much of you lately. You are not for joy.” 

“I-I was-” Edwin struggled for words, his eyes widening with bewilderment. The reality of their twisted connection was suffocating. “Mother-” 

“You were such a promising piece, Edwin Payne, a Painful one at that.” Her words stung, like daggers cutting deep into his skin, past all his shields and armour. 

Edwin swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his existence crash down on him. “My life was filled with you enough,” he replied, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I do not need to be plagued by you in death as well.” 

“You are my son; you and I are cut from the same cloth,” She snapped back, her voice rising slightly as if defending a claim. 

“I’m not just yours,” he replied, finding a flicker of strength within his vulnerability. Thinking of his father, of Charles, of Niko and of Crystal. 

“You can’t deny who you are, deep down,” she said, her voice softer now, pityingly so. But carrying an edge. “You swim in Despair and live for-” 

“Don’t” Edwin cut her off, the anger finally bubbling to the surface. “Don't even think of calling me that. I’m more than your son.” 

She turned her gaze back to Simon, seemingly unfazed by his defiance. “You say that, but look at what you do best. With your beautiful gloating creating more and more Pain for me to keep my fill of Despair. Go back to your gloating, my son.” 

Edwin tried to protest but a cold wave washed over him as he sat there, he blinked as he was looking at the mirror. Now cracked to show his mothers displeasure of their interaction.  

That had ended the first time he saw his Mother in 40 years. 

Edwin turned back to Simon. Watched him cry and keep hurting himself, over and over again. 

Simon had a specific punishment. A punishment for him to hurt himself over and over and over again, tearing apart the book he used to murder a boy for being different. 

Edwin didn't get that. The spider had not been specific to him, it had been what he was traded to. Edwin didn't get a punishment as he was never meant to be there. There was worse than what he got. 

His Hell wasn't even his, it was just Hell. It was awful and horrendous and filled with pain but it wasn't tailored to him. If he had deserved to be down here, he would have had a punishment fit to his crime like all the other souls here. 

He did not need to gloat for his pain was not worse than Simons, it was just different. 

He took a piece of paper from the pile. At the bottom were just two letters. 

S + E 

“Remember that blue cap you used to wear?” Simon broke the silence. And Edwin glanced over to him. 

“I remember you snatching it off me.” Edwin confessed a bit bitterly. 

“You looked very smart in that cap,” he smiled, bittersweet. “but when I tried to tell you, you just walked away. You never spoke to me,” 

Words seemed to flood out of Simon's mouth, the dam of pain being opened and all of the Despair rushing out. 

“I got so embarrassed thinking that we- that we were the same…” he trailed off tears coming more and more. 

Edwin stared at Simon, shocked and confused. Millions of feelings rushed through him all at once. 

“Simon, I was nervous… around you. I didn't realise-” 

“Do you think it has to be torture? Being the way we are?” He asked. 

Edwin could feel the strings of his heart weakening, close to snapping. The knowledge that Simon had been like him. Had thought for all these years he was in hell solely for that was something else. 

Simon didn't deserve that kind of Pain. 

“Listen to me,” Edwin lent in close to him. “No it does not. And although it is difficult for me to believe. I feel sorry for us both.” 

“So am I.” 

“I think this is what I deserve.” Simon spoke again. Looking at the book with words of demons and letters of childhood love. 

Edwin held Simon's face in his hands, forcing the boy to look at him. “Simon. If you punish yourself, everywhere becomes Hell.” 

He wanted to give Simon peace, even after all Simon did to him. He did something that would never be easy or simple. 

He forgave him.

Chapter Text

Edwin did not utter a word about that part of Hell. Did not tell Charles that his death had been caused by a boy with a crush on him. Did not tell Niko about the boy, who thought he deserved Hell for being a homosexual. He did not utter a single word about it. 

Kept it to himself, if he thought too much about Simon then Despair would follow and Edwin had enough with his mother and her games. But deep down, her words had dug themself into his soul, buried deep and a constant reminder of his mother.

Edwin Payne is the son of Despair of The Endless. He is sorrow and pain wrapped in human form. 

Edwin does not tell anyone he isn't fully human. Most people think the odd supernatural air about him is due to all the years he spent in Hell. He does not correct them. Not many actually know of the Endless, much less know of the few Children of the Endless. 

Some know of him. Of who his mother says he is. Very very few. All Edwin had to do to make sure no-one found out was keep people away from his mind and try to not interact with the Endless. 

Simple really. 

Then they got a case that included a crazy psychic. 

Just his luck. 

Edwin had been rather obvious with his hesitance in this case, he knew he was being rather obvious, but with how recently he’d seen his mother again, he couldn’t help it. The fear of her words and the fear of the others finding out what he truly is was terrifying. He simply did not know how they would take it, but couldn't see it going in a good direction. 

He’d been weird about the case from the very beginning, Niko and Charles had both tried talking to him and trying to figure out what was going on and why he was so worried about this psychic when Crystal was right there. Edwin had lied, simply and easily about it, saying nothing was wrong and to not worry about him. 

Niko and Charles had both gone out together, looking for any more clues about the psychic that would help them, while Crystal and Edwin had stayed at the office and read up on the information they already had. 

“So what the hell is going on with you?” Crystal questioned bluntly. “You’ve been so fucking weird about this psychic and its driving me mental.” 

“I-” Edwin cut himself off to think of his words carefully. “Psychics typically have an unusual… reaction to my mind.” 

Crystal's brow creased in confusion. “What do you mean?” 

“Once, a psychic read me and well let's say the things she saw were not pleasant for either of us.” He explained. “My father was the son of a slightly more powerful than average witch, it shows hell just… amplified.” 

Edwin only really was telling her something because he desperately did not want Crystal to read him forcefully so they all could figure out what was going on with them. His father had been the son of a witch, but a hedge witch and had not been overly powerful or gifted. She was well versed in healing, it gave Edwin some help when he started studying magic but the true power of it all came from his mother. 

“Oh shit,” Crystal replied, looking at him slightly concerned. “So don’t read you, got it.”

“Please do not tell Charles or Niko, I do not like this part of myself, I am only telling you so you do not read me.” He asked. 

“I think they should know, how does Charles not know?” 

Of course Crystal would point out the only flaw in his lie. “It happened randomly, in a bookshop when I was alone, I did not wish to trouble Charles with it.” 

Crystal nodded and that had been that. 

Charles and Niko had stopped pressing him about it so he assumed Crystal had told them something to keep them away but he could tell Charles was still worried. 

When they’d gone to confront the psychic it could not have gone more wrong. 

The psychic had been much more powerful, and smarter than they expected. He was older than he looked, most likely a deal immortal and he was so incredibly desperate to make all of them relive their horrid traumas. 

Niko had been the first to get hit before she quickly backed off, terrified. Then Charles had gone and gone and gone again before he couldn't do anymore before it was Just Crystal and Edwin, Crystal trying desperately to get him to back off while Edwin tried to think of a new plan. 

“Edwin! We need to fucking do something!” She cried dancing around the man as he reached out. 

“Let him touch me!” Edwin blurted out, the sights of Niko and Charles both crumpled on the grass clearing was making him less and less worried, he highly doubted this man would explain who he was, if he knew. 

“What! Edwin I thought that was the exact thing we said not to do!” Crystal yelled back looking shocked and even concerned for him. 

“I’ll be fine! We need to incapacitate him and this will be the quickest way!” Edwin replied smoothly. Getting fed up with all of this. 

“What is going on in your head then?” The man appeared behind Edwin, crazed smile and wide eyes sinking into his head. 

“Nothing you will enjoy.” Edwin spat. 

The man laughed and rolled his eyes. “Don’t think too highly of yourself, boy.” 

With that he grabbed Edwins arm and his head went back. 

Edwin could still see perfectly, watching the man’s tilted head and white eyes. He also could see the visions his mind gave up to the man. Watching and feeling the pure pain from running, the adrenaline while he hid, the fear while he was torn apart, the nausea while he watched his last self be eaten. The dread of the cycle being repeated again and again and again.

He could hear and see it when he started screaming and shaking. Reacting to the horrifying realities of Hell, the act of being eaten and chased like prey. He could tell when the Despair wrapped around the man like an embrace, and as Desire wafted through the air, the only desire of the man to be free of the Pain. 

He was flung back to the floor, shaking and trembling with his own sobs and cries of the horrors he experienced in Edwin’s mind. Edwin stumbled and looked at the man. He felt numb. 

He was still staring at the man when Crystal ran over to Niko and Charles, both more aware and getting up again. 

The man fixed his gaze on Edwin with an intensity that felt almost tangible. In That moment, fear, sorrow and anger danced behind his eyes, weaving into a tapestry of emotions that sent a chill down Edwin’s spine. 

The murmur that followed, lightly laced with menace. “I know who you are.” 

Edwin could feel the distant memory of his heart racing, a primal instinct taking hold as he felt fear and dread wrap around him like a suffocating blanket. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, yet he couldn't bring himself to do a single thing other than keeping his eyes locked onto the man. Praying and hoping he would shut up. 

“You’re Pain, Son of Despair of The Endless,” the man hissed each word dripping with accusation. 

Edwin saw red at the sound of that name. 

A wave of blood red anger surged within Edwin, igniting a reaction that took him completely off guard. It felt as if his very essence was twisting, morphing from fear into something much darker. This was not just anger; it was primal rage that sun itself deep into his core, gnawing at him like a relentless beast. Before he could grasp what was happening, his body moved on its own accord. He lunged at the man, outrage blurring his vision, and the shouts of his friends fell away into silence. 

All that registered was the pulse of his anger, the fire that fueled his actions. He gripped at the man's neck with hands that now seemed to possess a life of their own. His nails became sharp as daggers, claws born from a rage that consumed him entirely. 

“I am Edwin James Payne! Son of James William Payne and I am a Dead boy Detective!” he screamed, the sound raw and desperate, echoing like a plea for validation. Each word was punctuated by a fervent shaking of his grip. The instinctive need to impose his true identity over the words of his accuser. 

“Edwin!” The panic in Charles' voice startled him, and jerked his head up to see his friends- Charles, Niko, and Crystal - their expressions twisted in horror. 

The realisation of what he was doing crashed over him like a tidal wave, drowning out the old rage that had built. He felt a sick churning in his stomach as he flinched back, suddenly aware of the violence clinging to his hands. He stumbled back, hands pulling himself back as his legs kicked himself away. His breath came in heavy gasps as he looked down at his trembling hands, disbelief washing over him. 

He saw the jagged lines of his fingernails digging into the man’s throat moments ago and all he could think was: 

What have I done? 

The weight of the thought crushed him, already worried from his mother’s call but now even more scared of the idea that she was right. 

Charles knelt beside him, concerned etching deep lines into his face as he tried to talk to Edwin, reassure him, comfort him but the words seemed to dissolve into the minimal distance, lost in the fog of confusion and dread. He could sense Niko and Crystal nearby, sharing in the unease, their presence a reminder of the fractured bond that hung in the air. 

Yet it was the man that spoke up again, his voice hoarse but laced with a sinister undertone. “ I wouldn't touch that one.” 

Edwin’s gaze snapped back to the man, desperation clawing at his chest. “Don’t,” he begged. 

“After all that, you still try to hide who you are?” The man shot back with a spiteful smile and Edwin’s heart sank deeper. “I really should say what you are though? Isn’t that right, Pain of The Endless?” 

The words sliced through him like a knife, raw and unfiltered and exposing the very core of his fear. In that moment, Edwin felt stripped bare, the name he’d been given since the moment he was born a curse on his mortal self. 

Edwin wasn’t Pain, no Edwin only had a few extra gifts from his mother. He was nowhere near powerful enough to be an Endless. No Pain was just what his mother liked to call him and the name had spread around the supernatural community like wildfire. 

The words wrapped around Edwin’s neck like a noose, as if he’d just be sentenced to his death. He desperately didn't want to look at his friend, to know the horror and fear they now must have of him. Who would like Pain itself? 

“Lets… Let's head back.” Crystal decided after the horrid silence carried on for far too long. Edwin got up, not sparing a second to look at their faces. 

“Edwin!” 

Edwin’s arm was pulled and he was twisted around to see Charles' face, worry etched deep into his skin. He looked tired, he would be after whatever that psychic made him see, but he only seemed to care about Edwin. Charles kept his hands on Edwin’s shoulders forcing Edwin to stay put. 

“What?” he whispered, waiting for the penny to drop. For Charles to confirm that he didn't want to be friends with Edwin anymore. 

“Edwin, you’re crying, mate.” Charles revealed. 

Edwin truely hadn't noticed the tears sliding down his face until now. He hurried to try and rub them away, but it was futile. 

“I’m not Pain, please believe me.” Edwin begged softly, still desperately trying to wipe away the tears cascading down his cheeks. 

“Hey, hey, hey, It’s alright, Eds, you hear me?” Charles replied, squeezing his shoulders gently. 

“It's not alright! I wanted to be more than hers-” Edwin sucked in a few sharp breaths. “-I wanted to be good! I don’t want to be hers,” he cried, finally stopping his attempts to get rid of his tears. 

“Edwin Payne, you are more than hers.” Charles said sternly. “You are a Dead Boy Detective and you are my Best Mate, who cares who your mum is.” 

“I hurt him, Charles.” Edwin protested. 

“You did, but you were also pretty mad, mate, and it's not like he didn't deserve it, yeah?” Charles agreed softly. “You are good, Edwin, you are so so good, Angel.” 

Edwin sagged in Charles' grip and let the upset take over. Charles pulled him into a hug, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and using the other to press Edwin’s head between his neck and shoulder. Edwins arms reached under Charles' and gripped tightly in the fabric of his jacket. Edwin nuzzled his head deeper into Charles and let himself cry and feel the pain. He let himself go to Despair, knowing Charles would drag him out. 

Edwin looked up and saw Niko and Crystal hovering far, looking like they wanted to join, he hesitated before meeting Niko’s eyes and nodding at her. She smiled and dragged Crystal over to join the hug. 

And right there, for now, Edwin was at peace. 

Later, they would have a conversation about what it all means. Edwin would explain in careful words who his mother is and even tell them their last meeting. And they would have their questions and their own feelings, but they still loved Edwin at the end of the day. They always would.