to die upon a kiss.

@cwbosch​

“ah!” he exclaims, seemingly exiting his apartment in escalus just at the same time as his neighbor, who he’d happened to be looking for ever since he missed him at the picnic. even more so now, admittedly, since the news of valentine’s arrest, which had piqued wolfie’s interest into what alexandre had mentioned a week ago. “i was hoping i’d run into you, mate,” he offers what he hopes is a consoling smile, “are you busy?” 

christian was hoping to continue avoiding wolfie. with both tal and xandre on his case, plus the possibility that valentine could find some way to throw him under the bus at any moment, things feel rather tense. he’s exhausted from spinning lies, enough so that he fantasizes about marching into the police department and just telling it all... but each time christian considers working up the nerve to do it, he lapses in fear. and wolfie? lying to him is a special kind of torture. “you were? i’m, uh- headed to oberon’s office, actually. hoping to get some studying done in a spot that doesn’t have tess performing rituals in the living room.”

Xandre takes in the words, looks past them then and takes in the man before him. A multitude of emotions course through him, though pity or remorse are nowhere near in sight. “I think she told you what she wanted you to believe. She’s good that way.” Steel gaze doesn’t waver, neither does the resolve. “But i’m no idiot. And neither are you. Far from it. And act as blindsided as you must, but I also don’t believe that’s all you know. All you didn’t find out for yourself. A little birdie told me as much, and I trust her judgement far more than anyone else.”

“’No idiot’? You give me too much credit, Preston.” Christian replies sarcastically, hoping that by keeping his tone flippant, he can rise above whatever suspicions Xandre clearly has. Of course, he can’t stop the blossom of fear that Xandre’s words put in his chest: what could Octavia have told him? Who else could he have passed it on to? At this point, it’s as though Christian’s just stepping through a minefield. Only a matter of time until something blows up. “If I knew anything-- which I don’t-- what makes you think I’d tell you?”

ft. @cwbosch​

Is it technically breaking in when he lives in the same house? If it was, did he CARE? Either way it didn’t stop Xandre from finding a moment to be in Christian’s room as he returned to it. Perched against the dresser, arms crossed and the low tapping of his foot the only thing betraying any tension to his body. He rose to full height at the sound of the door, wasting little time. There was no time. As he stood the other’s little witch of a girlfriend was probably attempting to make bail. And so he begins. “It’s time to tell me what you know. Or tell me you didn’t know. No more bullshit, we’re family after all.”

“what the fuck, don’t you knock?” christian can’t say he’s exactly surprised by this, but it catches him off-guard all the same, the sudden intrusion from one of his less-preferred peers at the exact time when everything seems to be falling to shit. he sits up on his bed, mind spinning with a million different things he could say to xandre, each one sounding less favorable than the last. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.” he knows he doesn’t sound convincing, so christian steels himself, forces his gaze to meet xandre’s. “you really think she told me anything? me?” it hurts to say, but it’s the most honest thing he’s admitted in months.

@cwbosch​

the heavy-handed rap talbot places on the other side of christian’s dorm room door is one that he’s aware might go unanswered. for all he knows, not a single one of them are in at the moment and nor is the person he means to find.

“ christian? ” he calls out before impatiently offering another couple knocks.

christian considers not even answering, avoiding tal for just a little while longer; but no, that would look worse. still, he doesn’t open the door right away, raising his voice so he can be heard from inside.

“yeah, what is it?”

𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 !

in the day that had passed since valentine’s arrest, kit’s become a ghost of sorts himself. setting out early in the morning and spending the least amount of time in the house as possible. he should be working on his dissertation but instead, he finds himself holed up in the library pouring over the details he must have missed in the case. something he should have really done months ago. only stopping in the early evening to buy another packet of cigarettes and a bottle of shiraz before returning to escalus… suddenly very aware that he reeks of both when he bumps into the person on the path leading up to the house. 

“i don’t suppose i can tempt you to a nightcap?” kit asks meekly, using what little energy he has left to tilt the bottle from side to side — more desperate for the company than he’ll admit aloud. 

christian’s barely even noticing where he walks anymore, so it’s no wonder he almost walks right into kit on his way back to escalus. if his brain has been on overdrive these past few months, valentine’s arrest has made it melt into something hardly even functioning. christian has no reason to believe valentine would bring his name up during questioning--- if she tells the truth, she still comes out worse than he does. but still, there’s no telling what might happen anymore. there just isn’t. and any given moment could be christian’s last as a free man.

     she shakes her head as he admonishes himself. they were all allowed to grieve octavia, and she can see now how holding it in has taken a toll on christian. “it’s not dramatic and stupid, christian. octavia died. that’s not something we can ever change or take back.” it’s difficult, still, to speak so candidly of octavia’s death but it feels necessary now. she’s always been able to say things to christian she couldn’t bring herself to say to anyone else. “but it’ll be okay. eventually.” 

     she stiffens ever so slightly at the mention of octavia’s ghost. she’d suspected already that octavia was visiting all of them, because if her, then why not everyone else? “you’re not… you’re not going crazy, christian.” freda hesitates. “she appears to me too.” she’s mentioned it once or twice to talbot, but it’s not something they dwell on, not if tal could help it. but she’s never been afraid of octavia, not until recently. she’s never had any reason to think octavia would hurt her.

     “i didn’t know that.” she looks down, kicking herself for not noticing until christian had quite literally crumpled into himself already. “why didn’t you just come to me? i—” she lets things go unsaid. their relationship has never been clearly defined and maybe that was the difficulty of it but, “you can always talk to me. that’s never changed.”

every ounce of him wants to scream: this isn’t grief, it’s guilt. christian supposes it’s better this way, for winifred to think he’s simply distraught over losing octavia and continuing to be haunted by her, just as the rest of them are. it’s better than her catching a hint of the truth --- but is it? deep down, in a place christian can hardly stand to acknowledge, there’s a part of him that hopes more than anything for someone to just find out already. to save him from the probability that he will fail to find the courage himself.

“she does?” christian looks at freda, mingled feelings of relief and terror blossoming at the thought of octavia visiting her too. who knows how many other imperium members she’s appeared to --- it’s not as though any of them have really sat down and talked about it. he’s relieved by the confirmation that he’s not actually crazy, but still... octavia could be saying anything, to any of them. it’s far from a comforting revelation.

she’s been avoiding him. she has no proof that he’s the one responsible for removing her box from its hiding place under her bed, only the implications of an extremely vengeful ghost, but she has a hunch, and her intuition is rarely wrong. if only she had burned that damn letter when she had had the chance. 

she wants to pretend she doesn’t see him, that she was looking in a different direction, but she knows he’s not an idiot and that he won’t confront her about everything in public. maybe this is the best place to talk about, less chance of him mentioning the obvious. of course, my love, she signs back, walking towards him and closing their distance. are you okay? it used to be so easy to lie to him, but now her hands threaten to shake with every movement.

christian takes a gulp as she approaches, trying to suppress the rush of affection that surges when he looks at her, telling him to just forget about all of it and sweep her up in his arms and enjoy the evening together. it comes from the same part of him that hates himself for even doubting her --- that, a couple months ago, would have given her the benefit of the doubt without as much as a second thought. but christian sees things much more clearly, now.

he desperately wishes he didn’t.

no. no, i’m not, he replies, not maintaining eye contact with her. christian glances at the crowd surrounding them before turning nervously back to her. let’s go someplace more private. it isn’t a request, and he takes valentine’s hand, leading her away toward a building he knows will be far less occupied. christian doesn’t even realize they’re at the east wing until he’s pulling on the door, holding it open for valentine before entering himself. but once it lands on him where they are, a chill runs down his back. it’s a sick sort of irony that the two of them have ended up back here. he takes it in for a moment and then turns to face val, realizing suddenly that he has no idea exactly what he wants to say to her. where the hell does he even begin? christian stuffs his hands in his pockets and tries to stop his voice from shaking when he finally breaks the silence.

“sorry i’ve been avoiding you.” a pathetic start, but it’s true; he should have done this far sooner.

he hadn’t previously thought it to be possible, but christian was finally starting to loosen up a bit. there was always alcohol to thank for that, and the fact that the cops hadn’t seemed to even glance at him was putting him much more at ease. there was always the knowledge, in the back of his mind, that valentine was here somewhere --- apparently avoiding him just as much as he was avoiding her --- but christian was trying not to think about it. just for a moment, he felt normal.

“wolfie, hey,” christian waved at him genially. “i feel like i haven’t seen you all day. enjoying the picnic and all that?”

for weeks, he’s been trying to act as though nothing is wrong around valentine. to continue playing the dutiful boyfriend, acting like he doesn’t know... everything that he now knows. but he can only pretend for so long when it comes to her. the founders’ picnic is winding down and christian isn’t as drunk as he was before, and when he spots valentine by the music, a cold flood of determination rushes through him, as though he’s known the whole time what he has to do.

can we talk? christian signs, knowing there’s no chance she’d hear him speaking over the loud music. it’s important.

“christopher stanley! stanley the man-ley,” christian’s a few drinks in now, and starting to feel a bit more comfortable with the whole picnic thing. not anything close to actually being comfortable, of course, because how on earth could he be --- but just a tad bit closer. he approaches kit with a sloppy smile, looping an arm over the boy’s shoulders. “it’s crazy that your full name is christopher, like we almost have the same name,” christian chuckles. “how are you, mate?”

showing up at the picnic after all--- quite late and with his hair still wet, but showing up nevertheless--- was already feeling like a minefield to christian. everywhere he looks, there’s a police officer or an imperium member who might be suspicious of christian. he’s drunk by now, of course, but today he’s finding that it only increases his paranoia, rather than distracting him from it. there aren’t many people here he’d be relieved to see. perhaps one of the most nerve-wracking examples is mara, the absolute last person christian should be talking to and drawing the attention of; but she’s standing right behind him in line for one of the food stands, and it’s weirder if he doesn’t make conversation, isn’t it?

“hey,” christian greets mara as though he’s just noticing her. “you enjoying the picnic so far?”

christian had planned on at least making an appearance at the founders’ picnic, but when he emerges onto campus to find the place absolutely roaming with police officers, panic sets in. he needs to get away, and fast; he knows they’re still suspicious from the last time he was brought in for questioning, and who knows what they’ve found since then. backing away into a copse of trees, christian figures he’ll return to escalus and get so high that he forgets he’s supposed to be anywhere... but then he spots a familiar face.

“ilana-- psst, hey!” he calls out, hoping no one else sees him. “want to ditch this thing for a while? i don’t know about you, but cops make me too damn nervous.”

He pauses, not quite expecting the other to have the gall to say it out loud. Xan might be amused if it didn’t bristle the little feelings he’d shoved down about the topic all together. “I have done many things in my life, many I might not be proud of.” It’s an easy admission to reveal, the darkened tone doing nothing to dissuade from it. But he turns a bit to face Christian, voice still the ever soft whisper as to not draw attention. Something he would thrive in, but for this? Never.

“You seemed intelligent enough, Bosch. One would think someone of that intellect would try to examine all sides to an argument. That’s the only way to win after all. Remind me to never search you out for legal counsel.” His throat clears, unable to stop. “What I do now, I do for Evie, her alone in that aspect. The things that were hidden from me for a very long while were not my choice, that was taken away from me, just as it was Clara. Fourteen months left in the dark. You think I haven’t weighed the outcomes? If I make a scene, inquire into my options, that life of hers goes to ruin. What would be preferable for YOU, your highness?”

Christian seems to have succeeded in peeving Xandre off --- and he’s not normally the type to get enjoyment out of such things, but there’s a level of satisfaction in knowing he’s gotten under Xandre’s skin. Maybe it’s just because it’s a distraction, something to feel that isn’t related to Christian’s own secrets, but someone else’s. Because the truth is, as much as he dislikes the circumstances, he knows Xandre is fairly helpless in all of it; but that doesn’t mean Christian has to like him.

“Sorry, but what the fuck are you implying? You think anyone would just give Evie to you? Don’t say shit like that to me, Preston, not unless you want Clara hearing about it and ending whatever correspondences you’ve got going. That’s my fucking family you’re talking about.”

     something in her chest lightens when he agrees. it would’ve been easy for him to say no, easy for them to continue being nothing, but freda’s grasping at straws to keep the people she loves close. she’d been naive enough before to believe no harm would come to her, but, now with oberon out of commission, nothing was a given anymore. “great, it’s nearly done.” she closes the door behind him. he looks at her, and she can’t help the smile on her face. she turns around for just a second, but when she meets his gaze again, it isn’t the same. 

     a slight gasp escapes her at the way christian comes undone. she stands there for another moment, just watching him, watches him fold into himself. when he looks up from his hands, his eyes are shiny with tears. she moves toward him, wrapping her arms around him as she tucks her chin over his shoulder. “oh, christian.” she’s still at a loss for words. she’s ashamed that she’s so caught off guard. to think she considered him such a friend and she couldn’t even recognize when they were about to come to tears. 

     “i’m sure it’s fine. you’re fine.” she murmurs in an attempt to comfort him. she has no context, and they haven’t spoken in so long that everything she knows about christian feels outdated. but he is maybe one of the only truly good and kind people she’s ever known. her grip tightens just slightly before she finally pulls away to look at him. “what happened? is everything okay?”

he wants to believe freda when she says it’s fine, but she doesn’t know, can’t know, how just not fine it all is. christian has to keep reminding himself that she can’t know. there’s a warmth that spreads in his chest when she moves in close, and he wraps his arms around her in return, more grateful than anything for the fact that she’s standing there and that she still feels this familiar, this safe. he doesn’t want to let her go and have to answer that inevitable question --- but it comes anyway, as he knew it would from the moment he broke down.

“no, i-- i don’t think anything’s ever going to be okay, actually. i know that sounds dramatic and stupid but i...” christian’s voice shakes. he’s already spilling, saying things he shouldn’t. he looks into winifred’s eyes and wonders for a moment whether it’d be so terrible if he did tell her everything. if, for once, he didn’t keep all of it inside. but it’d be selfish, putting that burden on freda; even on the off chance that she didn’t go to the police, she’d then be carrying this secret with him, all because christian wanted just one moment of relief.

– “OH, COME ON. WHAT GOOD DOES THAT DO ANYONE?” SHE SHAKES HER HEAD. “ even if roman killed you on live television, they’d find some way to blame it on lysander, wouldn’t they ? and that really wouldn’t change the fact that HE’LL never see the consequences for his actions – your cowardice is really keeping that under wraps quite well, don’t you think?” she narrows her eyes. “ i’d get no peace from any of that. and you DISGUST me, that you’d prefer death over telling the truth, over taking responsibility for your actions – because i’ll tell you right now, death isn’t all that wonderful. ”

there is never a more intense emptiness, being a spirit is like being hungry for something you can never eat, constant longing, one step away from humanity that you used to know. even if you didn’t love yourself in life, it won’t stop the ache in death. 

“ a ghost’s word doesn’t really hold up in a court of law. but your testimony ? that little box ? it does. ” she looks at him. “ do you really want everyone to know that you KNEW and did nothing ? don’t you want a chance to be good ? ”

for a moment, christian tries to picture it. lysander’s name cleared, free to live the life he deserves. all of his friends, finally at peace. the satisfying sight of cal locked away behind bars, where he belongs. getting to sleep at night with the knowledge that he did the right thing. but then --- valentine loses everything. he tries to imagine ruining her life that way, the betrayal in her eyes when she realizes christian has hurt her in the worst way possible, and his heart splinters horribly at the mere idea of it. even now, knowing what he knows about her intentions... he loves her, and that doesn’t go away.

besides, what happens to christian when he comes forward? after lying to police and obstructing justice for this long, it’ll have to be a prison sentence. with cooperation and a good lawyer, he could be out in just a few years --- but what comes after that? he can never go home, it’ll be a scandal back there, where he and his family are household names. his parents will never want to be seen with him again. he could start over in london, new york, even los angeles, try to build a life for himself, but who will want to work with an ex-convict previously involved in a murder cover-up? it won’t only be val who gets ruined by this, not anymore; it’s christian, too.

“Am I not allowed to have fun?” He mused, though his eyes darkened a bit at the implication. Xandre knew what Christian thought of him, and his night spent with Clara while memorable, certainly wasn’t something he planned to ever repeat. And considering he hadn’t even known of his own damn daughter until WELL after her birth…. it irked him, to say the least.

 “Don’t imply things you know very little about, Bosch. Or actually — even you can’t be so innocent, hmm? I’m certain Val wasn’t the first to pop your metaphorical cork. So why the stick up the arse, hmm?” His voice had dropped to the lowest of whispers, knowing the other would listen. They always do, when filled with such a hypocritical fire.

Of all the words a person could use to describe Christian, prude has never been one of them --- while certainly an awkward fact to be aware of, it wouldn’t bother him if Xandre had only hooked up with his sister. He’s had his own share of one-night stands, to be sure. It’s the carelessness of getting her pregnant, only to hear from Xandre’s father urging them to keep the beloved Preston name out of it. As though being associated with Clara --- and by extension, her family --- would be a stain on them. It reminds Christian of all the ridiculous Ashcroft legacies who turn their noses up at “new money” such as the Bösches; fucking laughable at best, insulting at worst. His niece doesn’t deserve all that nonsense from her father.

“No, she wasn’t. It’s funny though, I’ve never derailed a hookup’s life and degraded her to some kind of ‘dirty secret.’ Still virginal in that department.”

“i’m a blemish on your clean-cut record, truly,” she snickers, not realising how far ironic the truth really is. but she means what she says; christian is probably one of the nicest boys she’s ever met, unexpectedly endeared by his earnest naivety. she can’t really imagine him with anything but a perfect track record, and she wonders absentmindedly if that’s the way people see it too: she’s not particularly well liked, would people like roman and tess think she’s corrupting christian, the way they believe she does to kit?

( well. they’re not entirely wrong, she supposes, if her intentions were to be counted. )

without further ado, she turns her attention to the laptop on the table, the only light in the deep blue dark around them. yet, only a few scenes in, she finds herself watching him out of the corner of her eye, interested in his own enjoyment at the movie. at a particular serious part, she’ finds her head turning out of her own accord to study his profile.

it’s safe to say that christian has firmly entered his ‘film-watching mode’, fully engrossed as the picture unfolds: two young men entering the home of a wealthy family to wreak havoc, play twisted games, and, eventually, murder them each in turn. no explanation given, no satisfying backstory to balance out the brutality. altogether, about as unsettling as it’s possible for a film to be. but he isn’t quite used to doing this with ilana present, and christian finds himself preoccupied with her proximity, wondering if she’s enjoying the movie or just finds it weird. there’s a strange urge to please her --- not in the same way that christian wants to constantly please everyone all the time, but in a smaller, more hopeful kind of way that he can’t quite name.

at one point, he turns his head --- not for the first time --- to check on her expression, and christian is surprised to find ilana looking at him already. he doesn’t break away this time, the darkness of the room hiding the slight flush in his cheeks. “is it too scary?” he asks quietly after a moment.