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    Summary

    Charles sighs, his shoulders slumping. “It’s just— I need to ask you something, and I don’t think you want to talk about it, is the thing. And I don’t wanna make you talk about something you don’t want to, and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but I think I need to talk about it.”

    Edwin considers Charles’ words, and together with his frazzled appearance and the way he is holding his hand, he draws a conclusion. Something he wouldn’t want to talk about, indeed. “Do you wish to ask me about Hell?”

    But Charles shakes his head, and says, “Not exactly, no. Not about Hell, but about… what you told me there. On the stairs.”

    Ah.

    Well. That is… much worse than discussing his 73 years and one day of unending torment.

    Charles is still holding his hand.

     

    Or: the boys have a talk.

    Language:
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